Apple. What is he really not the Colonel-Am I to be chous'd out of my hundred pounds! Is nobody to be hang'd?

Phil. Hang yourself.

Apple. Fire and combustibles, this the cele brated incendiary that has led me over hedge and ditch-Ö you Will-o-the Wifp! But Sir, for my zeal, mayn't I have the honor of kiffing your Majefty's hand on fome pretty post?

Czar. What, falute "the fin of a grampus"? Apple. (looking at the Czar) 'Tis he, the prince of carpenter's!

Czar. That I fhould banifh fuch talents to find them abroad. (to Colonel Lefort) Count, by your falfe pursuit of London pleafures, you've ga ther'd weeds in a flower garden-moft contemptible, the degenerate noble who plumes himself upon the illuftrious actions of his ancestors; but the man who by his own worth rifes from a private station, gives nobility its trueft luftre, the dignity of merit.-Commodore, fhou'd any of my fucceffors forget that 'tis to Britain they owe their firft fpark of Naval Glory, may British thunder punifh their ingratitude.-Come now my amiable Uttokefa, let me fhew the English Court, that it's my pride, to bid you share a Throne your virtues muft adorn.

FINALE.

OTTOKESA.

Life fhews Spring reviving, winter to deftroy,
But it's happy fummer, friends; let's now enjoy,
See the intrepid Hero to each ill refigned,
Then never fading wreaths his temples bind.

Let voice and heart be gay,
Let pleasure crown the day,
And raise the jocund lay.

CHORUS.

Let voice and heart, &c.

ELLEN.

Gad-a-mercy, Mafter Philip, if you wont,
Another will you know ;

What pray, Sir, do you mean, you cap'ring Count,
To use a woman fo?

Wou'd you'd never knew me,
Sure you came to woo me,

Only to undo me,

Devil's in the beau !

PHILIP.

Put a finger in an eye, poor Nelly,
And has it loft it's Doll?
When I've got a bottle in my pate,
Perhaps I'll at your window call.
When I chufe to drop in,

Or, my eye-brow pop in,
Do not let that Fop in,
Pretty little Poll.

COL. LEFORT.

Life fhews fpring reviving,
Winter to deftroy,

But it's fmiling fummet,

Friends, let's now enjoy.

As happy be our gay amusements feen,
As ruftic gambols on the dewy green.

CHORUS.

Let voice and heart, &c.

COL.

COM. SWIVEL.

O'er our nuptial banquet, tho' innocence prefide,
Yet to merry Momus we'll throw the portal wide.

CZAR.

Maids all rofy blushing flit the mazy round,
Feather footed pleasure lightly trip the ground.

CHORUS.

Let voice and heart, &c.

MRS. APPLEJACK.

What the deuce, my dainty Madam Slip-flop,
Is your fine new coach broke down?

COUNT COUVANSKI.

Dem'me too fevere upon my quondam,
Mifs Maraud don't dare to frown. (to Applejack)

APPLEJACK.

Hark'ee, little crack hemp, if you'll marry Nell
A noble hundred pound.

PHILIP.

Is it the reward for taking me pray tell

My little fly blood hound.

I'll, my little trimbo

With my arma kimbo

Shove you into limbo.

'Sblood if here you're found.

OTTOKESA.

Mantling cheeks, eyes fparkle, wit fhall point the jeft, At the feaft of reafon, love's a welcome gueft,

O'er

O'er our higheft bliffes, tears of pity flow,
And prove the nobleft joy's to heal anothers woe,

CHORUS.

Let voice and heart be gay,
Let pleasure crown the day,
And raise the jocund lay.

THE END.