Sir H. Ay, colonel, for such a woman! I had rather see her ruelle than the palace of Louis le Grand. There's more glory in her smile, than in the jubilee at Rome! and I would rather kiss her hand than the Pope's toe.

Vizard. You, colonel, have been very lavish in the beauty and virtue of your mistress; and Sir Harry here has been no less eloquent in the praise of his. Now will I lay you both ten guineas a-piece, that neither of them is so pretty, so witty, or so virtuous, as mine.

Colonel S. 'Tis done.

Sir H. I'll double the stakes—But, gentlemen, now I think on't, how shall we be resolved? For I know not where my mistress may be found; she left Paris about a month before me, and I had an account——

Colonel S. How, sir! left Paris about a month before you?

Sir H. Yes, sir, and I had an account that she lodged somewhere in St. James's.

Vizard. How! somewhere in St. James's say you?

Sir H. Ay, sir, but I know not where, and perhaps may'nt find her this fortnight.

Colonel S. Her name, pray, Sir Harry?

Vizard. Ay, ay, her name; perhaps we know her.

Sir H. Her name! Ay, she has the softest, whitest hand that ever was made of flesh and blood; her lips so balmy sweet——

Colonel S. But her name, sir?

Sir H. Then her neck and——

Vizard. But her name, sir? her quality?

Sir H. Then her shape, colonel?

Colonel S. But her name I want, sir.

Sir H. Then her eyes, Vizard!

Colonel S. Pshaw, Sir Harry! her name, or nothing!

Sir H. Then if you must have it, she's called the Lady——But then her foot, gentlemen! she dances to a miracle. Vizard, you have certainly lost your wager.