Lord R. Come, you shall sit down, this fellow will make thee laugh. Bar. I shall laugh at you both, an' I stay. Lord R. Hark you, monsieur, this gentleman has a great mind to learn to dance. Le Fris. He command my service. Please your lordship begin, tat he may See your profit, allez-ha! Lord R. How like you this, Frank ? Bar. Well enough for the dog-days; but have Le Fris. It be all your grace, monsieur; your Lord R. For mirth's sake, an' thou lovest me. Le Fris. Begar, I teach you, presently, dance with all de grace of de body for your good, and my profit. Bar. Pardon me, my lord. Le Fris. Oh not, pardonnez moi. Lord R. Do but observe his method. Bar. I shall never endure it, pox upon him. Le Fris. "Tis but dis in de beginning, one, two, tree, four, five, the cinquepace; allez, monsieur; stand upright an begar. Lord R. Let him set you in t'other posture. Le Fris. My broder, my lord, know well, for de litle kit de fiddle, and me for de posture of de body; begar, de king has no too sush subjects, ha! dere be one foote, two foote; have you tree foote? begar, you have more den I have den. Bar. I shall break his fiddle. Lord R. Thou art so humorous. Le Fris. One been two, ha, you go too fast, you be at Dover, begar, and me be at Greenwish; de toder leg, psha. Bar. A pox upon your legs, I'll no more. Le Fris. Pourquoi? Lord R. Ha, ha, ha! I would some ladies were here to laugh At thee now; you will not be so rude to meddle with Bar. I'll kick him to death, and bury him in a base-viol— Le Fris. Jackalent! begar, you be Jackenape; if I had my weapon you durst no affront me; I be as good gentleman, an' for all my fiddle as you; call me a Jack a de lent! Lord R. Rail upon him, monsieur; I'll secure thee, ha, ha, ha! Le Fris. Because your leg have de poc, or someting dat make em no vell, and frisk, you make a fool of a monsieur. My lord use me like gentleman, an I care no rush for you; be desperate, kill me, and me complaine to de king, and teach new dance, galliard to de' gibbet, you be hang'd in English fashion. Bar. Go, you're an impertinent lord, and I will be re[exit. veng'd. Lord R. Ha, ha! good Diogenes. Come, monsieur, You and I will not part yet. Le Fris. My lord, if you had not been here, me would have broken his head with my fiddle. Lord R. You might soorer have broke your fiddle; but strike up. Le Fris. Allez, ah, bon. [exeunt dancing. SCENE II. Enter BOSTOCK. Bos. I spy Sir Marmaduke coming after me : This way I'll take to avoid his tedious questions; He'll interrupt me, and I have not finish'd Things fit for my design. Enter SIR AMBROSE. Amb. 'Tis Mr. Bostock; little does he think What I am going upon; I fear I shall not Contain my joys. Bos. Good fortune to Sir Ambrose. Amb. Sir, you must pardon me, I cannot wait Upon you now, I have business of much consequence. Bos. I thought to have made the same excuse to you, For at this present I am so engag'd. Amb. We shall meet shortly. Both. Ha, ha, ha! Bos. Poor gentleman, how is he beguil❜d. Amb. Your nose is wip'd, hum, 'tis Sir Marmaduke, Enter SIR MARMADUKE and COLONEL. I must salute him. Bos. The colonel? there's no going back. Mar. What misfortune's this? but 'tis no matter: Noble sir, how is't? Amb. As you see, sir. Col. As I could wish, noble Mr. Bostock. Bos. Your humble servant, colonel. Col. Nay, nay, a word. Mar. I shall not forbear jeering these poor things; They shall be mirth. Col. What! all met so happily? and how my Sparks of honour? Amb. Things so tickle me, I shall break out. Col. When saw you our mistress, lady Lucina? Amb. My suit is cold there; Mr. Bostock carries The lady clean before him. Bos. No, no, no, it is Sir Marmaduke. Mar. I glean my smiles after Sir Ambrose. I may as soon marry the moon, and get Mar. You'll march away with all. Col. I cannot tell, but there's small sign of victory; And yet, methinks, you should not be neglected, If the fens go forward, and your iron mills. Mar. Has she betray'd me? Col. Some are industrious, And have the excellent skill to cast brass buttons. Mar. Colonel! softly. Col. How will you sell your vinegar a pint? The patent's something saucy. Amb. The colonel jeers him. Bos. Excellent! ha, ha! Col. Had not you a head once, Of hair I mean; favours have glean'd too much, Till the next crop. Amb. Hum, the very language she us❜d to me. Bos. Does he jeer him too; nay, nay, pr'ythee spare him, ha! ha! Col. You may do much, and yet I could desire Bos. Good colonel! Col. Nay, pardon me; In the humour I am in, I wish, and heartily, You were a son o'the people. Bos. Colonel! How the devil came he by this? Col. Under the rose there was a gentleman |