prightly_ I have danc'd with; Brigadier _Blenheim_
too has handed me out of the Box, but when Lady _Rodomont_ arriv'd, they
both flew from me like a parcel of Fortune-hunters from a reputed
City-Heiress, when her Father breaks, and can give her nothing.

_Flim_. Here she comes, surrounded with _Beaus_, and I warrant, thinks her
self as good as the Queen; if I were the Queen, I'd have her taken up for
thinking so. Pray Madam affront her.

_Enter Lady_ Rodomont, _and Mrs_. Lovejoy, _follow'd by Sir_ Harry,
_Collonel_ Blenheim, _Mr_. Nicknack, _Major_ Bramble, _several Fops
and Footmen_.

La. _Rod_. Dear _Messieurs_! give me Breath: Not but a Croud of Beaus are
very acceptable; but to press upon one too hard, is like a new Monarch
just seated on the Throne, that's stifl'd with Court Cringes--Don't you
think, Sir _Harry_, the _Italians_ that approach us at more distance, show
greater Veneration and Respect.

Sir _Har_. Ladies in their High-Noon of labour'd Garniture,
Are pleas'd, when we admire 'em like the Sun,
Whom none directly looks at,
But in the Ev'ning, as the Sun goes down,
They're better pleas'd we shou'd approach 'em nearer.

La. _Rod._ O you malicious Creature! That Censure's from the Freedoms of
the _French_: A Traveller shou'd humour Countries, Customs; in _Spain_, a
modest Woman hides her Face; in _France_ we shift our selves before our
Valets; nay, shou'd much greater Freedoms there be practis'd, none but an
_English_ Clown suspects our Vertue--_Collonel_, you're welcome to
_England_; you have distinguish'd your self nobly this Campaign; I hear at
_Audenard_ you acted Wonders.

_Col._ Madam, When Kings command their Subjects to the Field,
The Swords our Calling, and we fight for pay,
And lengthen out a War to raise Estates;
But when a Queen, whose matchless Virtue fires us,
And whose obliging Goodness courts our Valour,
We march with Pride, and unresisted Force,
To spread the Empire of so bright a Mistress.

La. _Rod._ I find, _Collonel_, an _English_ Officer may be perfectly
well-bred, but I attribute it to your success in War; you have taken most
of the _French_ Officers Prisoners, whose Conversation has refin'd your
Manners.

_Col._ 'Tis granted, Madam, their Conversation's wondrous _Degaugee_--
we'll take 'em to refine us ev'ry Year.

La. _Rod._ Sir _Harry_, what Diversions are a-foot; but _England_ is so
phlegmatick a Climate, no Carnivals, nor Midnight-Masquerades, but Two and