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 _Degaugée_--
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
fifty Days lost ev'ry Year for want of Balls and Operas on a _Sunday_.