Eng. Mons. Because you lead so like French ladies.
Lady. Sir, why look you so earnestly on the ground?
Eng. Mons. I’ll lay a hundred pounds, here has been three English ladies walking up before us.
Crafty. How can you tell, Sir?
Eng. Mons. By being in France.
Crafty. What a devil can he mean?
Eng. Mons. I have often in France observed in gardens, when the company used to walk after a small shower of rain, the impression of the French ladies’ feet. I have seen such bon mien in their footsteps, that the King of France’s Maitre de Daunce could not have found fault with any one tread amongst them all. In this walk I find the toes of the English ladies ready to tread one upon another.
Vaine. Monsieur Frenchlove, well met—
Eng. Mons. I cannot say the like to you, Sir, since I’m told you’ve done a damn’d English trick.