Tall. What, the devil, are you mad, old Holofernes! It's that there greyhound has whipped up little puss.
Sir J. B. I believe it.
Colonel E. Diable m'emporte—Zounds—Splutter and oons—it is no such ting.
Tall. It is.
Colonel E. It is not—You are as wrong in dis, as when you took me for a taileur.
Sir J. B. Where have you hid my child? restore her, or, I'll Cressy and Agincourt you—I'll be a Black Prince to you. Why, Dolly Bull!
[Calling.—Exit.
Colonel E. Nay, but, Sir John——
Tall. I am so vexed and perplexed—Oh, if I had you at Dover, I'd fight you—ay, with a pair of queen Anne's pocket pistols.
Colonel E. Monsieur, any thing to oblige you—I vil fight, or let it alone—all von to me—ma foi! Who's there? [Calls.] Hey! Le Fleche, Justine!—