Lack. Polite! then I suppose he can drink, swear, play at cricket, and smoke tobacco.
Tall. Yes, he comes on, but I'll give him up to you—or you to him, to get rid of you.
[Aside.
Lack. Yet, I am told this French gentleman has a most benevolent heart—a man of much worth.
Tall. Yes, he is worth twenty thousand a year.
Lack. I like a man of twenty thousand a year—hem! tell him who I am.
[With great Consequence.
Tall. I'll tell him, you're a wrangling mastiff, pointer-made—he thinks so highly of our courage, with him, the boldest bully, is the bravest Briton, ha! ha! ha!—he's so fond of our English customs, ha! ha! ha! why, he'd introduce himself to a duchess, with a zounds; and thinks if he can come out with a dozen dammes or so, he speaks very good English.
Enter Colonel Epaulette, singing.
Colonel E. Rule Britannia, Britannia rule de vay. Ah, my victorious squire—[Sings.] If you should like, De Yorkshire tyke, an honest lad behold me.