and foft as de filk! Vat vould I give to be dat dere Monsieur Dicky! Jenny. Why, is it poffible, Monfieur, that you can think me equal to your own country ladies? Tromf. Ah, Mademoiselle, dere is no comparifon at all in de vorld: Vat havock your charm vould make in dis contry! Jenny. I am not quite fo certain of that. Tromf. Dere is no doubt at all: Pour la preuve ; De very first-a Frenchmans you vas fee, is proud to drow himself at your feet. Jenny. At mine? who can that be, Monfieur? Tromf. Votre tres humble, Mademoiselle; it is moi, me myself. Jenny. You? Tromf. Moi. Permit-a me, Mademoiselle, to declare de force of my paffion, dat burn my ver→ Jenny. For me? why, I have fcarce been in your company a couple of minutes. Tromf. Von inftant is enough for your charm to make-a de conqueft; de very first glance, your bright eyes fhoot me quite to de heart. Ah! how it make-a me pat, pat, pat, pat! Fait moi l'honneur to place-a your hand juft here a my fide. Jenny. Here is an audacious old fop! I'll try how far the impudent puppy will go.-Why, really, Monfieur, you're fo amiable, and your manners fo very polite, and fo civil, that if it had not been for a prior engagement, I don't know but I might be tempted to liften. Tromf. Courage, Monfieur Tromfort! Stay but littel time, Maister Dicky, begar I make you a cocu before you vas marry. [afide.]-Engagement! vat is dat? Jenny. The young man you saw here but now. Tromf. Maifter Dicky; ver vell? B Jenny. Jenny. We are come over hither to marry, you know. Tromf. Vy not? Jenny. What, and at the fame time encourage another's addreffes? Tromf. To be fure. En France, de lady alvays take de husband to make fure of de lover; de one pour la politique, de oder for de paffion. Jenny. Ay; but what would my countrywomen fay at fo very quick a Tromf. Say? ah-ha! fhe begin to capitulate. [afide.]-Say? dat you take de ver vise step. Oh, Mademoiselle, dere be many pretty my lady who vait at my hotel for de vind, that can tell many comic storie of Monfieur Tromfort. Jenny. Oh, I don't doubt it at all!-Was there ever fuch an impudent coxcomb!-If one did but know, indeed, the name of fome of the ladies, it would be a kind of excufe. : Tromf. Pardonnez moi! jamais de man of honour; never tell de name of de lady. La voies! looky here! look at dis plumet; dis pretty white fedder [hews a fhabby white feather]; dis trophy of my victory I receive from de hand of de pretty my lady. Jenny. That indeed is a proof; and yet, Monfieur, it is a fort of wonder too, for you are not over young, nor, between ourselves, remarkably handfome; and befides all that, you have but one eye. Tromf. Dat is true; but den confider, Mademoifelle, dat the little god Cupid has got never .a vonė, Jenny. Right; and I believe the lady muft have been near as blind as the god.. Tromf. Not at all. But, ma chere Mademoi felle, felle, we lofe time; and Maifter Dicky may come back from de port. Dere is, in dis littel room, de ver pritt pieter, which permit-a me to have de honour to fhew you. Jenny. Nay, but, Monfieur Tromf. Dere must be a littel compulsion to make de lady do vat she like [pulls her.] Venez ma! Jenny. Hands off, you infolent ruffian! Tromf. Diable! [Strikes him. Jenny. The vanity and impudence of this fellow exceeds all the accounts I have heard of his country. Tromf. By gar, for de foft hand, it is de most hard I ever vas feel! Jenny. Not half fo much as you merit. A pretty account you give of the English; and a fine return for all the favours you have received at their hands! Tromf. Pardie, c'est une espèce de virago.—Mais, Mademoiselle! Jenny. However, the gentleman will foon be back, and return you thanks for this piece of civility. Tromf. Mais, Mademoiselle, you vas know de mode of dis country, de littel gallantry to de pretty fine vomans. Jenny. Gallantry! what, from a fellow like you, a pitiful publican? Tromf. Diable! publican ? dat be good enough for de maker of pin. Jenny. Here he comes. Enter Dick Drugget. Dick. Zounds, Mifs, here they all be Jenny. All! who? Dick. Father, mother, and your aunt Clack, the milliner from out of Pall-Mall.-But, you feem flurried; there has nothing happened, I hope? Jenny. Happened? that faucy Frenchman has taken fuch liberties! Dick. How!-Zounds, Sir, how dare you- Fenny. Nay, the fellow is only fit to be laughed at: Befides, at prefent we want him.-Hark'ee, Monfieur, if you wish to have your folly forgot, and not be expofed, as you richly deserve, you muft immediately lend your affiftance. Tromf. Vid plaifir. Jenny. Where can I conceal myself from my angry relations? Framf. Dere is but littel time for to tink. Ahha! I have it. I vill dis inftant put you into de couvent, vere my fifter is nun. Jenny. But they will foon find me out, and force me from them. Tromf. You must pretend to have de grand inclination to become de bon catolick. Jenny. And will that do? Tromf. Never fear! Mademoiselle est bien riche; and de French prieft never give up de convert ven the have got great deal of guinée, jamais. Jenny. In the mean time, what is to become of my friend? Tromf. De beft vay for Maifter Dicky is to take de littel trip to Dunkirk or Boulogne, till matters be settle. Fenny. May I venture, Monfieur, to truft myfelf in your hands? Tromf. By gar, Mademoifelle, dere is more danger from your hand dan from mine! Jenny. Jenny. We English, Monfieur, are an odd fort of people; it is near as dangerous to provoké our women as men. Tromf. By gar, I believe fo. No, no; l'affair eft faite; I have done. Ma femme, my littel vife, fhall conduct Mademoiselle-La Jeuneffe![Calls, Enter La Jeunesse. La Feu. Monfieur? Tromf. Go to my vife; tell her to take Mademoiselle to de couvent, and leave her dere vid my fifter. After dinner, I vill bring you de news to de grate. Jenny. Well, Dicky, adieu! expect to hear from me foon. Dick. Be as quick as you will, I fhall think it an age. Deareft Jenny, farewell! Tromf. Jufque à revoir, Mademoiselle! Jenny. Servant, Monfieur Tromfort! [Exit. Tromf. Ma foi, Mademoiselle be a great littel fool, to prefer Monfieur Dicky to fuch anoder as me. By gar, de Englis voman have no judgment at all! fhe vill repent by-and-by; more pity for fhe!-La Jeuneffe! Enter La Jeuneffe. Have you fent dofe bag of guinea to Dunkirk, to be melt? La feu. Oui, Monfieur. Tromf. Ver vell. [Exit La Jeunesse.]-Apres tout Meffieurs l'Anglois, all de Englis people be ver great fool, to come here, spend dere money, in fearch after vat dey never will find! to fhange dere roaft-a beef and pudding, for our rotten ragout; fee de comedy, de play, dey don't comprehend; talk vid de people dey don't understand; B 3 |