Lack. Very true, Mrs. Casey, so I can.
[Puts up the Purse.
Mrs. Casey. But, however, since your honour insists upon paying it now, you shall see it—Here, Bob! [Calling.] Squire Lackland's bill—then Heavens save your handsome face, and your handsome hand, and your handsome leg—pretend to be without money!—Oh dear, how jokish these gentlemen are!—Here, Bob, Squire Lackland's bill—quick, quick!
[Exit Mrs. Casey and Servants.
Lack. I am sure, I'm vastly obliged to Colonel Epaulette, for this recruit of finance, if 'twas only to rescue me from this Irish harpy—Come, I do very well—Oh, lucky, lucky cards!—after paying her bill, I shall have as much as will set me up at the faro bank—Dem it, I mustn't—cannot think of this grocer's daughter—vile city bulls and bears—no, no, Tallyho may have her—Oh, here he comes!
Enter Tallyho, crossing quick, and singing.
Oh, Tallyho!
Tall. Couldn't stop to speak to a duke—not even a clerk of the course.
Lack. I'll bet you fifty guineas, you stop with me though.
Tall. But my little doe Doll waits for me at Colonel Epaulette's—a word—she's going off with me—so I must leave my match in the hands of my jockeys—Soho, puss!