The Force being over, and we left to our
selves, the _Provincial_ returning up Stairs from conducting his Troop
to the Door, Well, Gentlemen, says he, how do you relish your Diversion?
_Et vous Monsieur le Prince_, if this will not bring you to your self,
you shall be Dethron'd at _Lyons_, and put upon a Level with the rest of
the Company; for he that pretends to put on a starch'd reserv'd Air upon
a Journey, make himself a Prince by his Distance, and so must either
lose his Dignity by being good Humour'd, or pay the Reckoning like a
Prince, and that we have Decreed shall be your Choice the Remainder of
the Journey. The _Provincial_ gain'd his End, for either this comical
Accident was the Occasion, or the Term of the Gentleman's Melancholy was
expired; for afterwards he put on a gay Temper, and proved tollerable
Company.
We cou'd not content our selves with a single Nights Lodging in _Lyons_,
that City is furnish'd with too many Rarities for the amusement of
Strangers, not to partake of a little more of their Money than any
Vulgar Inn upon the Road.
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