like to go out a ſhooting with me for an hour before dinner?
Count.
Bravo, Colonel! A charming thought! This will give me an opportunity to uſe my elegant gun: the but is inlaid with mother-of-pearl. You cannot find better work, or better taſte.—Even my coat of arms is engraved.
Baron.
But can you ſhoot?
Count.
That I have never tried—except, with my eyes, at a fine woman.
Baron.
I am not particular what game I purſue.—I have an old gun; it does not look fine; but I can always bring down my bird.
Enter Servant.
Servant.
Mr. Anhalt begs leave——
Baron.
Tell him to come in. I ſhall be ready in a moment. [Exit Servant.
Count.
Who is Mr. Anhalt?
Amelia.
Oh, a very good man. [With warmth.]
Count.
“A good man.” In Italy, that means a religious man; in France, it means a cheerful man; in Spain, it means a wiſe man; and in England, it means a rich man.—Which good man of all theſe is Mr. Anhalt?
Ame-