SCENE II.

Another Part of the Course.

Enter Celia and Henry.

Henry. Charming creature! since the joy inspired by your conversation at the opera, and the grief of such a hopeless parting, to the instant of this lucky meeting, I have not enjoyed a moment's peace.

Celia. You think this a lucky meeting, sir; I congratulate you on your good fortune, and leave you to the enjoyment of your happiness.

[Courtesies and going, he takes her Hand.

Henry. One moment, my love!

Celia. Very fine, this; so here my captive presumes to make his conqueror a prisoner of war!

Henry. I am your captive, your slave—thus I kiss my chain; [Kisses her Hand.] and thus on my knee—

Celia. Stop, you'll soil your regimentals.

Henry. Dear, charming—[Aside.] I wish I knew her name.

Celia. Ha! ha! ha! do forgive me.

Henry. I am enchanted with your gaiety, charmed with your beauty—

Celia. 'Pray, were you ever enchanted, or charmed before?

Henry. But never lov'd till now.

Celia. Oh, if you're serious, I must—Come, come, come, I'll talk no more to you; walk that way, and I'll walk this way.

Henry. Nay, but my angel—

Celia. Well, well, I know all that, but if you really expect to meet me in the field again, you must send me a challenge by my brother—Eh—but I'll not tell you, for you seem to be conceited enough already.

AIR.—CELIA.

No hurry I'm in to be married, But if it's the will of my brother, I'd much rather stay, Yet, since in the way, I as well may have you as another. A strange custom this, to be marry'd, Though follow'd by father and mother, The grave and the gay, But, since in the way, I as well may have you as another. A prude, though she long to be marry'd, Endeavours her wishes to smother, I'd give you her nay, But, since in the way, I as well may have you as another.

[Exit.

Henry. Charming woman!

Tallyho. [Without.] Yoics! I'll bring in the stragglers—I'm the boy to fill the rooms, and empty the bottles.

Henry. Oh, here's Tallyho—as this brother she speaks of, is a man of the turf, probably he knows him—I'll just ask him, and—then for my sister Rosa.

Enter Tallyho.

Tall. I'm an excellent whipper-in for the bottle—Oh, ho! [Looking at Henry, then takes him under the Arm.] Come along.

Henry. Where?

Tall. To get drunk, to be sure—You wear his Majesty's cloth, and go to bed sober, when my English Whirligig has beat the mounseers!—Such a pack of jolly dogs! such burgundy!—won't you come and get drunk with us?

Henry. Certainly, my boy—but, pray, Tallyho, can you tell me—you saw the young lady that parted from me now—admirably handsome!——

Tall. Handsome! Yes, every body says she's like me.

Henry. I shall soon call her mine.

Tall. The devil you shall!

Henry. I have some hopes; the only obstacle is a brother—but, perhaps, you know him—one of our stupid, thick-headed fellows, without an idea, beyond a cock, or a horse.

Tall. For fifty pounds, I have as many ideas as you.

Henry. You!

Tall. Yes, Mr. Captain; who gave you commission to talk o'my thick head?

Henry. What a blunder! [Aside.] But, really, Squire, is that young lady your sister?

Tall. Celia? yes, to be sure she is my sister, and that's your share of her too. [Snaps his Fingers.] She has a great fortune, and you captains are damned poor—but, huzza! I have it, tol de rol lol!—[Sings and capers.] You shall fill your pockets with French gold—Louis d'ors, sous and souces, you damned son of a—give me your hand.

Henry. Now, what—what is all—

Tall. You shall go halves in my slang match to-morrow. Colonel Epaulette has matched his Black Prince, to run against my Kick-him-Jenny—it's play or pay.—You shall back his Black Prince, take all the odds—I will get my jockey to lame Kick-him-Jenny; and, to give a colour for her not being able to run, I've mounted Sir John Bull to take an airing on her, ha! ha! ha!—I warrant she plays him some prank or other, so, as he's a bad horseman, I'll lay her accident upon him—she can't run—pays forfeit—you sweep the field—touch them all—and when you've gathered in the cash, we'll meet privately, and divide it, even, fair and honest, in our pockets—Damme, there's our snug ten thousand a piece with a twopenny nail!

Henry. And this, perhaps, you call honour?

Tall. Yes, 'tis good turf honour.

Henry. What! to be a scoundrel?

Tall. Oh, very well; if you're so nice—ay, now, you're a very delicate chicken! But, harkye, the next time you see sister Celia, don't look at her.

[Going

Henry. Stop, Tallyho—I think I'll punish my knowing one. [Aside.] On second thoughts, I will join with you in this roguery.

Tall. Then you're a cursed honest fellow—my sister's yours.

Henry. Ay, with her consent——

Tall. Her consent! if we make the match, what has her consent to do with it?—but I'll settle that—come, you shall have it from her own mouth, this instant.

Henry. But what shall I do with Rosa?

[Aside, and looking out.

Tall. What, are you making a set, my pointer? Come, and be merry with us—Why, I'll get drunk to-night, though I'm in love up to the saddle girts—Oh, my darling Dolly!

Henry. Oh, Miss Bull—Ay, we shall soon have you a bridegroom too.

Tall. Yes, ha! ha! ha! I shall soon be a happy bull-calf.

DUETT.—HENRY and TALLYHO.

Tall. Your hand,

Henry. Your hand,

Tall. My hero,

Henry. My buck,

Tall. No more words;

Henry. No more pother!

Tall. My sister is yours, }

Henry. Your sister is mine,

Both. And the bargain is struck,

Tall. My brother!

Henry. My brother!

Both. The field round,

Tall. We'll slang 'em,

Henry. We'll slang 'em,

Tall. And if they complain, the captain shall bang 'em.

Henry. In this and that, and every nation,

Tall. Every rank, and every station, All, all declare, That cheating is fair,

Henry. If it takes but the knowing one in.

Tall. Miss Polly, how coy! With her amorous boy, Cries, dear sir! Oh fie, sir! and bridles her chin; You impudent man, you, How can you? how can you?

Henry. 'Tis all

Tall. 'Tis all

Both. To take the knowing one in; For all declare, That cheating is fair, If it takes but the knowing one in.

[Exeunt.