_Pen._ Pray, familiar stranger, what can you mean? I never saw you before this instant, nor you me, I believe. _Y. Book._[47] Perhaps not, that you know of, madam, for your humility, it seems, makes you so little sensible of your own perfection, that you overlook your conquest; nor have you e'er observed me, though I hover day and night about your lodging, haunt you from place to place, at balls, in the park, at church. I gave you all the serenades you've had, yet never till this minute could I find you, and this minute an unfortunate one--But this is always my luck when I'm out of the field. _Vict._ You've travelled then, and seen the wars, sir? _Y. Book._ I--madam--I--all that I know of the matter is, that Louis the Fourteenth mortally hates me. They talk of French gold--what heaps have I refused! Yet to be generous even to an enemy, I must allow that Prince has reason for his rancour to me. There has not been a skirmish, siege, or battle since I bore arms, I made not one in; no, nor the least advantage got of the enemy, but I had my share, though perhaps not all my share of the glory. You've seen my name, though you don't know it, often in the _Gazette_. _Pen._ I never read news. _Enter_ LATINE. _Lat._ What tale's he telling now, tro'? _Y. Book._ You've never heard, I suppose, of such names as Ruremonde, Kaiserswerth, and Liege? nor read of an English gentleman left dead by his precipitancy upon a parapet at Venloo? I was thought so indeed, when the first account came away. Every man has his failings; rashness is my fault. _Lat._ Don't you remember a certain place called Oxford among your towns, sir? _Y. Book._ Pshaw, away--Oh! oh!--I beg your pardon, ladies, this fellow knows I was shot in my left arm, and cannot bear the least touch, yet will still be rushing on me. _Lat._ He has a lie, I think, in every joint. [_Aside._ _Pen._ Do you bear any commission, sir? _Y. Book._ There's an intimate of mine, a general officer, who has often said, Tom, if thou would'st but stick to any one application, thou might'st be anything. 'Tis my misfortune, madam, to have a mind too extensive. I began last summer's campaign with the renowned Prince Eugene, but was forced to fly into Holland for a duel with that rough Captain of the Hussars, Paul Diack. They talk of a regiment for me, but those things--besides, it will oblige me to attend it, and then I can't follow honour where'er she's busiest, but must be confined to one nation; when indeed 'tis rather my way of serving with such of our allies as most want me. _Pen._ But I see you soldiers never enjoy such a thing as rest: You but come home in winter to turn your valour on the ladies--'tis but just a change of your warfare.