Land. Yes—the revolution that turns us all topsy-turvy—the revolution of Love.
Beau. Romantic young Corydon! And with whom is he in love?
Land. Why—but it is a secret, gentlemen.
Beau. Oh! certainly.
Land. Why, then, I hear from his mother, good soul! that it is no less a person than the Beauty of Lyons, Pauline Deschappelles.
Beau. and Glavis. Ha, ha!—Capital!
Land. You may laugh, but it is as true as I stand here.
Beau. And what does the Beauty of Lyons say to his suit?
Land. Lord, sir, she never even condescended to look at him, though when he was a boy he worked in her father’s garden.
Beau. Are you sure of that?