Gregory. That may be, madam; and yet, for a bracing air, people are apt to die in it, sooner than in any other place.
Adeline. Pshaw! pr'ythee, man, put but a confident look on the matter, and we shall do, I warrant. A bluff and blustering outside often conceals a chicken heart. Mine aches, I am sure! but I will hide my grief under the veil of airy carelessness.—Down, sorrow! I'll be all bustle, like the occasion. Come, Gregory! Mark your mistress, man, and learn: see how she'll play the pert young soldier.
SONG.—ADELINE.
The mincing step, the woman's air,
The tender sigh, the soften'd note,
Poor Adeline must now forswear,
Nor think upon the petticoat.
Since love has led me to the field,
The soldier's phrase I'll learn by rote;