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and soft as de filk! Vai vould I give to be dat dere Monsieur Dicky!

Jenny. Why, is it possible, Monsieur, that you can think me equal to your own country ladies ?

Tromf. Ah, Mademoiselle, dere is no comparison at all in de vorld : Vat havock your charm vould make in dis contry!

Jenny. I am not quite so certain of that.

Tromf. Dere is no doubt at all : Pour la preuve ; De very first a Frenchmans you vas see, is proud to drow himself at your feet.

Fenny. At mine? who can that be, Monsieur ?

Tromf. Votre tres humble, Mademoiselle ; it is moi, me myself.

Jenny. You ?

Tromf. Moi. Permit-a me, Mademoiselle, to declare de force of my passion, dat burn my ver

Jenny. For me? why, I have scarce been in your company a couple of minutes.

Tromf. Von instant is enough for your charm to make-a de conquest; de very first glance, your bright eyes shoot me quite to de heart. Ah! how it make-a me pat, pat, pat, pat ! Fait moi l'honneur to place-a your hand just here a my side.

Jenny. Here is an audacious old fop! I'll try how far the impudent puppy will go. Why, really, Monsieur, you're so amiable, and your manners so very polite, and so civil, that if it had not been for a prior engagement, I don't know but I might be tempted to listen.

Tromf. Courage, Monsieur Tromfort! Stay but littel time, Maister Dicky, begar I make you a cocu before you vas marry. afide.)-Engagement! vat is dat?

Fenny. The young man you saw here but now. Tromf. Maister Dicky; ver vell?

Jenny.

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Jenny. We are come over hither to marry, you know.

Tromf. Vy not?

Fenny. What, and at the same time encourage another's addrelles ?

Tromf. To be sure. En France, de lady alvays take de husband to make sure of de lover; de one pour la politiqu:e, de oder for de passion.

Jenny. Ay; but what would my countrywomen say at so very quick a.

Tromf. Say? 'ah-ha! she 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 Monsieur Tromfort.

Fenny. Oh, I don't doubt it at all !Was there ever such an impudent coxcomb !—If one did but know, indeed, the name of some of the ladies, it would be a kind of excuse.

Tromf. Pardonnez mai! jamais de man of honour ; never tell de name of de lady. La voies! looky here ! look at dis plumet ; dis pretty white fedder [shews a jhabby 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,

Monsieur, it is a sort of wonder too, for you are not over young, nor, between ourselves, remarkably handsome; and besides all that, you have but

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Tromf. Dat is true ; but den consider, Mademoiselle, dat the little god Cupid has got never a vone.

Jenny. Right; and I believe the lady must have been near as blind as the god. Tromf. Not at all. But, ma chere Mademoi

selle, selle, we lose time; and Maister Dicky may come back from de port. Dere is, in dis littel room, de ver pritt picter, which permit-a me to have de honour to Thew you.

Jenny. Nay, but, Monsieur

Tromf. Dere must be a littel compulsion to make de lady do vat she like [pulls her.] Venez 'ma! Jenny. Hands off, you insolent ruffian!

[Strikes him. Tromf. Diable !

Jenny. The vanity and impudence of this fellow exceeds all the accounts I have heard of his country.

Tromf. By gar, for de soft hand, it is de most hard I ever vas feel !

Fenny. Not half so 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 soon 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. Fenny. 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, Miss, here they all be
Fenny. All! who?

Dick.

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Dick. Father, mother, and your aunt Clack, the milliner from out of Pall-Mall. But, you seem flurried; there has nothing happened, I hope?

Jenny. Happened ? that faucy Frenchman has taken such liberties !

Dick. How !-Zounds, Sir, how dare you
Tromf. Monsieur Dicky-

Jenny. Nay, the fellow is only fit to be laughed at : Besides, at present we want him.-Hark'ee, Monsieur, if you wish to have your folly forgot, and not be exposed, as you richly deserve, you muft immediately lend your assistance.

Tromf. Vid plaisir.
Jenny. Where can I conceal myself from my

angry relations ?

Tromf. Dere is but littel time for to tink. Ahha! I have it. I vill dis instant put you into de coltuent, vere my sister is nun.

Fenny. But they will soon 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 priest never give up de convert ven she have got great deal of guinée, jamais.

Jenny. In the mean time, what is to become of my

friend? Tromf. De best vay for Maister Dicky is to take de littel trip to Dunkirk or Boulogne, till matters be settle.

Jenny. May I venture, Monsieur, to trust myself in your hands?

Tromf. By gar, Mademoiselle, dere is more danger from your hand dan frem mine!

Jenny, .

Jenny. We English, Monsieur, are an odd sort of people; it is near as dangerous to provoke our women as men.

Tromf. By gar, I believe so. No, no; l'affair of faite; I have done.---Ma femme, my littel vife, shall conduct Mademoiselle-La Jeunefle![Calls.

Enter La Jeuneffe. La Feu. Monsieur ?

Tromf. Go to my vife; tell her to take Mademoiselle to de couvent, and leave her dere vid my lifter. After dinner, I vill bring you de news to de grate.

Jenny. Well, Dicky, adieu! expect to hear from me soon.

Dick. Be as quick as you will, I shall think it an age. Dearest Jenny, farewell! (Exit.

Tromf. Jusque à revoir, Mademoiselle!
Jenny. Servant, Monsieur Tromfort !

Tromf. Ma foi, Mademoiselle be a great littel fool, to prefer Monsieur Dicky to such anoder as me. By gar, de Englis voman have no judgment at all! The vill repent by-and-by; more pity for she! La Jeunesse!

Enter La Jeunese. Have you sent dose bag of guinea to Dunkirk, to be melt?

La Jeu. Oui, Monsieur,

Tromf. Ver vell. [Exit La Jeunesse.] - Apres tout Messieurs l'Anglois, all de Englis people be ver great fool, to come here, spend dere !:oney, in search after vat dey never will find! to shange dere roast-a beef and pudding, for our rotten ragout; see de comedy, de play, dey don't comprehend; talk vid de people dey don't unB 3

derstand;

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