Lady L. What! is he come over?
Colonel S. Ay, and he told me—but I don't believe a syllable on't——
Lady L. What did he tell you?
Colonel S. Only called you his mistress; and pretending to be extravagant in your commendation, would vainly insinuate the praise of his own judgment and good fortune in a choice.
Lady L. How easily is the vanity of fops tickled by our sex!
Colonel S. Why, your sex is the vanity of fops.
Lady L. On my conscience, I believe so. This gentleman, because he danced well, I pitched on for a partner at a ball in Paris, and ever since he has so persecuted me with letters, songs, dances, serenading, flattery, foppery, and noise, that I was forced to fly the kingdom.——And I warrant you he made you jealous?
Colonel S. 'Faith, madam, I was a little uneasy.
Lady L. You shall have a plentiful revenge; I'll send him back all his foolish letters, songs, and verses, and you yourself shall carry them: 'twill afford you opportunity of triumphing, and free me from his further impertinence; for of all men he's my aversion. I'll run and fetch them instantly. [Exit.
Colonel S. Dear madam, a rare project! Now shall I bait him, like Actæon, with his own dogs.——Well, Mrs. Parly, it is ordered by act of parliament, that you receive no more pieces, Mrs. Parly.