ACT the 2nd

(Enter SIR ROBERT and SIDEBOARD)

Sir Robert. What, is this part of his French Manners? Neither to come home to Dinner, nor send word?

Sideboard. I wish some Accident has not happen'd, Sir. (A knocking at the Door)

Sir Robert. Perhaps this is he—

Sideboard. Walk in Gentlemen.

(Enter WILDFIRE and FOXCHASE)

Wildfire. Sir Robert, your most obedient—we have made bold to come and take share of a Dinner with your Son.

Sir Robert. Gentlemen, you're heartily welcome—but I don't know what's become of him.

Wildfire. He'll be here immediately, Sir, with a very splendid Retinue—he has got the Mob after his Chariot all the way from the Park.

(Enter ROGER)

Roger. Here he comes, but in such a Pickle—the French Parlevous picked a quarrel with the People and there's the new Paper vis-a-vis all demolish'd. There's Lady Betty all towzled, and the Mounsieurs beat to Stockfish—here comes the Squire.

(Enter JACK all splashed)

Jack. Pardie! There is no Regulation, no Police in this Country—to serve a Gentleman at this rate, my new vis-a-vis, and touts mes gens—deranged in this manner by them.

Wildfire. What a Pickle the Fellow's in!

Sir Robert. A sad figure indeed.

Jack. This is it to live in a Country of Liberty.

(Enter a chair with the Glasses all shatter'd)

Lady Betty. (Comes out) Oh! I shall certainly expire in this Country! My dear Monsieur de Broughton was there ever anything so barbarous and inhospitable!

Roger. It's my Opinion, if I had not been there to speak English for un, they'd a kill un all.

Mob. (Without) Hurra! No Mounsieurs, no wooden Shoes. (A Noise if the windows were breaking)

Mob. Hurra! No French Spys!

(Enter ST. LOUIS)

St. Louis. Jarnie, Monsieur, I was going up de hide in de garret, and this stone come Pauf—here by my head.

Roger. I'll go and speak to un, they'll give over for an honest Englishman, I warrant un. (Exit)

Lady Betty. What a pack of Savages!

Jack. They have no police; at Paris one of the Canaille dare not come within the Atmosphere of a Man of Condition—there, for sending forty Livres to the Lieutenant of the Police, a Man of Quality may run a Scoundrel thro' the Body.

Sir Robert. Well, well, come let's in to dinner—Mr. Florid, and the French Gentleman are waiting for us.

Lady Betty. Oh, I could not eat in this condition—I'll step upstairs to M'am'selle Harriet. (Exit)

Jack. And I'll go up to my Toilette.

Wildfire. No, no, you shall come and dine.

Sir Robert. That's right, Lads, bring him along. (Exeunt)

(Enter ROGER with a Tankard in his hand)

Roger. There, I gave un something to drink, and they've quiet.

Sideboard. Young Master's greatly chang'd Roger.

Roger. He is greatly chang'd indeed; here's my sarvice to you.

Sideboard. He must have spent a great deal of Money abroad.

Roger. Ay, ay, Sir Robert never stinted un for that.

Sideboard. We were all in a sad way about him at one time.

Roger. Ay, that was when the French Marquis run un thro' the Body; Lord help ye, I was in a sad Pucker—as sure as you are there I thought we had lost un—thoff he deserv'd it in part too. I'll tell you how it was. He was got one day bragging of his Amorous, I think they call it—and so some young thing was toasted—she was painted up to the Eyes, I warrant her—they all paint there Master Sideboard, like so many Dolls.

Sideboard. So I have heard.

Roger. Here's my sarvice to you—and so when the young woman was toasted, odds my Heart, what does the Squire, but says he, what signifies drinking she—I have had she; thoff he never had her atall Master Sideboard, a had not indeed. I have had she, says the Squire, give us a new face. Had she says the Marquis do you know she is my Sister? I know that says the Squire, and I lov'd her the better for it. And so the Marquis grew bloody angry and run un thro' the small Ribs—a did indeed.

Sideboard. We were all afraid he would have died.

Roger. Here's my sarvice to you, a wish a had never set a foot in their Country. I never had so much as a hearty meal while I was among un, excepten a Month or two in the beginning, when the Squire liv'd with some of his Country Folks in the Rue de Butchery—I think they call it.

Sideboard. No place like our Country, I believe Roger, let 'em say what they will.

Roger. You have hit it Master Sideboard, you have indeed. Dear Heart, they have such Laws there—why a poor Servant dare not give his Opinion there of the Government.

Sideboard. No!

Roger. No—if he does, he's taken up with a Letter Scratched, and sent to the Bastile, and if you ask a reason for it, all they say to you is—de parlour oi. Why now here we can each talk of folks at Helm and of Taxes, and know as much of the matter as any of un.

Sideboard. That's the Privilege of an Englishman, Roger.

Roger. And then a Sarvant there has no Vails—a Butler's place is nothing there, a poor Gentleman may come and dine there, and you're oblig'd to be as civil to him, as if he had money in his Pocket, and was oblig'd to give you more than his dinner is worth, as they do in England. I had rather live with an honest Citizen, who brings his friend home from change to his own dinner, mayhap a Leg of Mutton and a Pudding, and if you fix yourself well at the Door, you are sure to touch un for a Hog.

Sideboard. A poor servant had better be a country curate than that.

Roger. I am sure I hated them all the time I was there and their lingo and all. Such outlandish Names they have for things—what do you think they call a Horse? Cheval. And Beef, now what do you think they call Beef?

Sideboard. I can't say.

Roger. They call it Beff—and sometimes they call it Bulli, the honest Beef of old England is call'd Beff by un. And what do you think they call the French King?

Sideboard. The grand Monarque.

Roger. It's worser than that, it is not as you read in the Flying Mercury and the Country Journal, but they call un the King of France, they do indeed.

Sideboard. Hush! The bell rings, I must go into 'em.

Roger. Do so, Master Sideboard, and I'll step down—Beff, I'll tell you what Master Sideboard, it's my Opinion they'll never come to speak English while they live—Beff. (Exeunt)

(Scene discovers them [JACK, WILDFIRE, FOXCHASE, SIR ROBERT, ABBÉ, and FLORID] at Table)

Jack. Mort de ma Vie! I am burnt alive.

Wildfire. Come, come, off with your Glass.

Foxchase. Ay, ay, off with this Bumper.

Jack. Gentlemen, I believe you take me for the Fire Eater, I can't swallow liquid Flames; can't we have the coffee and the Liquor?

Wildfire. There's more trouble with one Fellow that won't drink, than with fifty that will, off with it I say.

Sir Robert. Drink Boy, you're fairly hunted.

Jack. (Drinks) Vive l'Amour.

Wildfire. And so Monsieur Abbé, you say that the French are making great Armaments.

Abbé. Ver great Marine, Monsieur, ver great Marine.

Jack. The French are a very politic Nation; they never make a Treaty, but with an Intent to break it, when it suits their Conveniency—so you'll find they will at last give Laws, as Fashions to Europe.

Wildfire. Never fear, you'll find that John Bull will be too many for Louis Baboon any day in the year. Let 'em land here, we'll shew 'em what a figure Slaves will cut in a Land of Liberty. Come now, I'll give you a Toast—Monsieur need not drink it, but as he began the subject he must excuse my National Partiality—here's Old England for ever.

All. Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!

Jack. L'Angleterre.

Wildfire. L'Angleterre! Say it in plain English, Old England.

Florid. (Drunk) Ay, ay, give me another Bumper to it—it's both agreeable to the Public Sense and the Moral Sense.

Jack. Old England. (Squeamishly)

Foxchase. Wounds! I wish they have not made a Papist of him.

Jack. A Papist! Do you suppose there's Religion in France?

Abbé. Ah! Pour ça non—parmi les honêtes Gens, wid les Espirits forts, dare is none at all. Religion it is ver pretty Bagatelle to quarrel about, but ma foi, dat is all.

Florid. Yes, they have the Religion of Nature, and the Theory of agreeable Sensations. (Drinks) They have the Ideas of Beauty and Virtue, and by the favor of the Sylvan Nymphs, they pursue their platonic Loves (Drinks) and invoking first the Genius of the Place—what is the Bottle come round again? This is indulging the Pleasurable Perceptions arising from the Organ of Bodily Sensations (Drinks) and invoking first the Genius of the Place (Very drunk) obtain some faint and distant view of the Sovereign Genius, and first Beauty.

Wildfire. Pha! Sauce with your Jargons—come Foxchase give us an honest song.

Foxchase. With all my Heart. (During the song Jack steals off)

Wildfire. Hang the Fellow—he's off.

Foxchase. Let's after him. (Exeunt)

Florid. Ay, let's bring him back to indulge the Social Affections.

Sir Robert. Gentlemen never mind him, let's make an End of our Bottle. I am afraid Mr. Quicksett is in the right. (Follows)

Abbé. (Sings)

Boire a long trait De ce vin frais Et ne jamais quitter la Table, Que pour Dancer Rire a Chanter C'est se jouir d'un sort delectable.

(Exeunt)

(Scene another Apartment. Enter LADY BETTY and HARRIET)

Lady Betty. Well, but my dear Harriet, I assure you.

Harriet. Nay, but Ma'am, how can your Ladyship say so?

Lady Betty. Surely Madamoiselle Harriet you'll give me leave to know better than one who has never been beyond the Dust and Smoke of melancholy London.

Harriet. Well, I protest and now I can scarcely refrain from laughing at the Conceit of it.

Lady Betty. The Conceit!

Harriet. Dear Ma'am, your Ladyship can't be in earnest, sure, there's no Mystery—

Lady Betty. No Mystery—but I tell you there's a Je ne sais quoi—

Harriet. Dear Ma'am, I hope your Ladyship won't be in a passion about it.

Lady Betty. Is it not enough to provoke anybody to be contradicted in a thing that a person has voyag'd for? But I tell you Madam, not one in a thousand of the English know how to blow the Nose—it's a thing not understood in this country.

Harriet. With all my Heart, Ma'am, if you will have it so.

Lady Betty. It's very true though—the people of this Country don't know how to blow the Nose—or to walk, or to sit down, or to rise up, or to cough, or to spit, or to sneeze—now let me hear you sneeze.

Harriet. I wou'd oblige you Ma'am with such a thing, if I possibly cou'd.

Lady Betty. Oh, you can't then, here, take a pinch of snuff to provoke a Sneeze. (Gives snuff)

Harriet. I have no Objection to a pinch of snuff, Ma'am. (Takes snuff)

Lady Betty. Look ye there, now, that's not the way to take Snuff. The thing does not consist in stuffing it up the Nostrils, as if you were gormandizing upon it—with your Arm lifted up, and your Head shrunk down, just as if you were frighten'd at something—but it must be introduced as a grace to Conversation. Now observe me—I make the most of my Person—hold my Head up with an air. Then suppose me in the middle of a story about an Amour, or the French Court, or a new fashion, or what you will—then I open my Snuff-box, then look at myself in the glass, and reclaim a straggling Hair—then I proceed. I wave my Arm out to its full length, then I gradually bring it to, forming a graceful Semicircle, and never move my head towards my hand—thus (Mimicks) but I make my hand pay its devoirs to my head—thus. (Mimicks) Then I apply my fingers with the utmost delicatesse—and I smile—I smile and look as if I were thinking—and then I don't souse my hand down at once, thus—(Mimicks) but I restore it to its place in the same graceful manner—thus—you see now the Semicircle opens. Then with an elegant turn of my wrist, I drop my Arm in a gentle dying—dying fall.

Harriet. Well now as I live and breathe, my Lady Betty I never cou'd have thought there was so much Consequence in a Trifle.

Lady Betty. Trifle! Trifles are the most important things in Life. The Beau Monde is made up of Trifles—Paris is made up of Trifles—I am made up of Trifles—the French are all Trifles, and so vive la Bagatelle. But my dear Madamoiselle Harriet you're a perfect corpse child, let me put on a little Rouge—no, I have none about me; and then your Cap (Takes off a very small one)—fie, done, it's large enough for a Soapboiler's Wife—here let me put this Bouquet in your Hair. There, now you have Cap enough—the Creature looked odiously handsome before—I cou'd not bear it.

Harriet. Dear Ma'am, but I'm afraid I shall take cold.

Lady Betty. Cold! What then? If you do, you'll be in the fashion. But I assure you, child, you must voyage, indeed, and 'till you do, I lend you one of my faces to keep you in Countenance.

Harriet. Ma'am I am very much oblig'd to you, but Heav'n has given me a face.

Lady Betty. Heav'n has given you a face! He! He! He! Well to be sure that notion is downright Insulaire, fit only for an Island—the Sentiments of the Continent, I assure you my dear are much sublimer. Heav'n has given you a face—but I'll give you a better face, you shall have one of mine—how do you like this face? It has been generally taken notice of. They may talk what they will of their great Painters—my brush exceeds 'em all—the Coloring is so mellow, and so rich and so glowing—

Harriet. Ma'am as for your coloring, nobody can dispute it—but don't your Ladyship think a great Painter can draw a little more like the life?

Lady Betty. Like the life! That's a cold northern Sentiment again—why can't you see that if it were like the life one might soon become an old face? Now I like to be a new face every day—then the men cry, what a deal of sweetness my Lady Betty has in her face—ay, and what a deal of fire—and what a deal of meaning—and what a—and what a Je ne sais quoi! But I shall lay aside this face soon, and you shall have the preference of it.

Harriet. Dear Ma'am, I wou'd not rob your Ladyship on any Account.

Lady Betty. Oh you'll not derob me at all, and then I'll let you have a Copy of my Receipt how to be a fine Lady, it was made in Paris upon the most minute observation. I was assisted in it by Monsieur Capriole my dancing Master, Madam D'Epingle my Milliner, La Jeuness my hair dresser, and Fanchonette my waiting Maid.

Harriet. Dear Ma'am, let me have it of all things—it must needs be a curiosity.

Lady Betty. I believe I have it in my Pocket—here it is—I'll read it to you. "Take a score of French Phrases, everyday, bien tournées, and mix 'em well together to qualify the Barbarity of the English. Be sure to have a thorough contempt for the Milliners and the Tradesfolk of your own country. Be sure never to visit with your Husband, if you have a mind to be happy with him, don't see the horrid creature above one in a quarter."

Harriet. I suppose your Ladyship means as Falstaff says in a quarter of an hour.

Lady Betty. Well, by all that's pleasant, I shall never survive that. No child, once in a quarter of a year is enough to see the domestic Animal, to get one's pin-money of him—or to make him mortgage—or sell—or anything to pay one's gaming Debts. But I'll go on. "Be sure to have a Douceur and a fierté ready to command in the Countenance." Now if one of these Insulaires—one of these Island People shou'd come within the Hemisphere of my Hoop there's my fierté—and if one meets with anything that has voyaged, that has depatriated as the Clive calls it in the Play—there's my Douceur—but don't interrupt. "Be sure never to be happy if anybody of your acquaintance keeps more Card Tables than yourself—"

Harriet. Is that an Essential to Happiness Ma'am?

Lady Betty. Assurement Ma'am'selle. A fine Lady can never sleep in her Bed if anybody that she has a regard for keeps more Card Tables than herself. There was my Lady Fanny Brilliant, and I, vying about it for a whole half year—first she had twenty—then I had five more—then she kept Sundays then I kept Sundays—then she had thirty—then I had forty—then she added, then I added—then she—then I—then she again—then I again—'till at last, there was not a Hole or corner in the House but was cramm'd—and you'd think the front of the House wou'd come down, with all the Men's backs lolling out of the Window. I was oblig'd to play in my Bed-chamber in the Servant's Hall—everywhere—and if she had urg'd me further I should have had a Tent in the Courtyard, and on the leads of the House, but upon casting up the Accounts, I had the Majority by seven—and I lost a cool fifteen hundred more than her.

(Enter JACK BROUGHTON)

Jack. Mesdames, votre tres humble—I have made my Escape from the Savages below—I believe they are following me—no—à la mode d'Angleterre to make an end of their Bottle.

Lady Betty. And mon cher Cavalier, you are come most à propos to decide a dispute between Miss Harriet and me. Is it not true what Molière says, there is no happiness out of Paris?

Jack. Madam, hors de Paris, il n'y a pas de salut. The French to be sure, are the dearest creatures in the World. Under an absolute Monarch, you'll see them dance, and sing, and laugh, and ogle, and dress, and display their pretty little small talk—while an English John Trott, with his head full of Politics, shall knit his brow, and grumble, and plod, unhappy and discontented amidst all his boasted Liberty and Pudding.

Lady Betty. Then the French Ladies, what lives they lead! The Husband makes it the Business of his life to ruin himself for his Wife's diversions. They keep separate chariots as well as separate Beds. She is sure to have the handsomest fellows for her Laqueys—they are all sur le bon Ton. And then the pleasures of the agreeable Billet-doux, and dear enchanting Quadrille.

Jack. Oh my Lady Betty! The Joys of a life of Play are inexpressible—it leads a Person into the politest company, actuates the Spirits with the sweetest Vicissitudes of Passions—hope and fear, Pleasure and Anxiety, running an eternal Round.

Lady Betty. There Madamoiselle Harriet, there's a life for you, but dear Heart, I must run away, this is Opera Night.

Harriet. Is your Ladyship very fond of Operas?

Lady Betty. Do you think Ma'am, I am like your English people of Quality, that go only because everybody goes—I'm a very Lady Townly for Operas—I expire at an Opera! Oh that enchanting air. (Sings)

Harriet. Don't you think a good Play has something more rational and more natural than an Opera?

Lady Betty. I detest Plays—but I shall go to the first good Play that's acted—my Lady Tattleaid and I have made a Party to go and talk at the first good Play. But mon cher Cavalier, what do you think? When I arriv'd on this Island, I expected to hear of nothing but politics, and Crown Point and Scalping, but I find all the People of Fashion's thoughts are taken up about another thing—they're all in an uproar about an Opera-singer's sore Throat—some say there was a sore throat—others say there was not a sore throat. You know Lord Maggoti, he spoke to me the other night, to be of his Party for the Sore Throat. I have not taken my Party yet, tho' I believe I shall be for the Sore Throat; but I must be gone.

Harriet. Had not your Ladyship better spend the Evening with us?

Lady Betty. No, Madamoiselle, I must run away—Lord it's six o'clock—I shall be too late. I have an appointment there—Signora Sorethroatini is to take notice of me, after her first Song.

Harriet. That will certainly do your Ladyship a great deal of Honor.

Lady Betty. Assurement, it will—there was my Lady Scatterbrain making Interest for it—but she can't have a Curts'y 'till Tuesday—and who wou'd choose to have it on a Tuesday—there will be nobody there to see it. But it will be charming tonight, when at the End of her Song she drops me a Salute—then I rise up and I return it; then all the Eyes are directed to me, and the whisper runs along the Rows, "Did you not see the Sorethroatini do the Honors to Lady Betty Mockmode?"

(Without) Jarnie! Les Anglois sont les Diables.

Jack. Hey! What's the meaning of all this?

(Enter French Servants and throw themselves on their Knees one with his Nose bloody, another without a Wig)

St. Louis. Monsieur, pour l'amour de Dieu!

Bourguignon. Ayez pitié de moi Monsieur.

La Fleur. Ah mon Dieu! Partagez nous Monsieur.

Jack. How comes this?

St. Louis. (Pointing to his nose) De Englishman bob wid his head.

Bourguignon. And give me one knock in my Stomach make me tink my Soul and Body, and all come up.

La Fleur. Monsieur—tare all my Coat.

Jack. Who's without there? Roger—let some attend.

(Enter ROGER with his fist doubled)

Roger. It's my Opinion Master I cou'd beat a dozen of 'em, I cou'd indeed.

Jack. What is all the meaning of this?

Roger. They're always doing Keekshaws, and quarrelling with the Cook—so that there's no Peace for us below stairs, and when I was abroad they were always jeering me, and so I bethink me now that I am in a Land of Liberty, a free born Briton shou'd not be impos'd upon by such Powder-Puffs.

Jack. Sirrah! Get out of the Room, or you shall walk off with two Ears less.

Roger. I will Master, thoff an' I said, it's my Opinion I cou'd beat a dozen of un—I cou'd indeed. (Exit)

Jack. Pauvre St. Louis, Bourguignon, La Fleur, courage. I will accommodate you better in a few days.

St. Louis. Fort bien Monsieur.

(Enter SIR ROBERT)

Sir Robert. I don't like all these strange doings here in my House. But come, come, Harriet, I must desire you to show this Lady into the next Room. Here's your Father coming upstairs, and he desires to have a little private conversation with my Son.

Lady Betty. So mon pauvre Marquis, they are going to make you a mere John Trott of an English Husband, sullenly civil to your Spouse, and morosely disobliging to the rest of the World—so a l'honneur, I leave you to your Tête à tête. Ma'm'selle Harriet, a good Evening, you shall certainly have one of my faces, and the Receipt—but I must run away to the Sorethroatini. (Exit)

Sir Robert. Now Jack, be upon your Guard—why don't those French Fellows get out of the Room? Go down Stairs Monsieur. I wou'd not have Mr. Quicksett see 'em for the world. Mr. Quicksett has his oddities, Jack, and hates the French so at this Juncture, that he wou'd willingly pay half his Estate in Taxes, to help 'em to a good drubbing, but be upon your guard, and talk discreetly.

Jack. Had not I better get St. Louis to arrange my dress before I receive the Gentleman's Visit?

Sir Robert. No, no, you must show no French Airs—he is willing to settle his Estate on his Daughter—and I long to have the Match concluded—so take care you don't spoil all. Here he comes.

(Enter QUICKSETT)

Mr. Quicksett, this is my Son—Son, this is Mr. Quicksett, and so now I'll leave you together. (Exit)

Quicksett. Ay, he answers the Description I had of him.

Jack. Pardie, voila un droll de figure—I wish I was dress'd out that I might make the Man of Quality for him—but I'll shew him a pretty Gentleman as it is. Monsieur, votre tres humble—your commands with me, Sir.

Quicksett. (Takes a chair and sits) Why look ye young Man, your Father is my old Acquaintance, and as he propos'd this Match, I had as soon marry my Daughter into Sir Robert Broughton's Family, as any at all—but I then must not throw my Girl away and I must like the Man before I settle her for Life do you see?

Jack. Ma foi, voila un homme sans façon, sans Ceremonie—I'll sit down too. (Draws a chair)

Quicksett. But your French Education, young Gentleman, I am afraid won't recommend you to me. Odds my Life, it seems to have made a downright coxcomb of you.

Jack. Mr. Quicksett, if you are for indulging your Raillery, I shall be oblig'd to you—I love Raillery of all things—it is to me a party of pleasure, but prenez garde a vous—take care Mr. Quicksett. My Raillery is so brisk, it is like your fire Arms that discharge I don't know how often in a minute—Pi! Pa! Pauf!

Quicksett. Yes, it's just as I heard. (Aside)

Jack. Well, but courage, Mr. Quicksett, don't be frighten'd—you set out very well—keep it up. Vous ne repondez rien—'tis your turn now. (Pauses) Hem! Plait-il Mr. Quicksett, I wait your pleasure, Sir. Pardie! I believe the Gentleman is going to take a Nap. O—this is an English Visit, and I'll sustain an English Conversation. (He continues silent for some time, looks at Mr. Quicksett and at last addresses him) How do you do? How do y'do? What News? A very dull day. Egad I wish Monsieur Abbé were looking in upon us, it wou'd furnish him with some pleasant Hints for his Remarks on the English Nation. En bien, Mr. Quicksett—upon my Soul you have a great deal of very pretty Phrases, and most admirable repartee.

Quicksett. I hear you, Sir, I observe you—this is your French Education.

Jack. French Education is the only thing in the World to form a pretty Gentleman—it gives a man a notion how to live, and a taste for Intrigue.

Quicksett. You've had a great many Intrigues, I suppose.

Jack. Intrigue, Mr. Quicksett is the Pleasure of Life. If you were to see me in a Circle of French Ladies—before I went abroad I had not assurance to look a modest Woman in the face—but now—Je badine—I amuse them with small Talk—Je papillon—I am a very Butterfly.

Quicksett. That I do verily believe—go on, Sir, give yourself Airs.

Jack. A Frenchman is the only Person breathing that knows how to give himself Airs—a Frenchman has manners and in short everything. Is a Frenchman in a circle? He takes care neither to say anything nor do anything but what is perfectly obliging. He possibly lends his Ear to one—makes an obliging answer to another, recommends himself to this person with a whisper—to that with a Smile. He declares a civil War of Raillery upon some Person of Wit, says a handsome thing to the Mother, and a soft thing to the Daughter. Do you pay a visit to a Frenchman's Wife? He commodiously withdraws knowing that he is there de trop, that there is no manner of Occasion for him. And if he goes to take a Walk, he does it, thus—with an air—Ha! Ha! Head erect—with a Mien that says, "See me go by," and then the Ladies, they do so ogle, and so admire, and their hearts do so pit-a-pat, and they say to themselves, "Well to be sure that's a pretty fellow." Then cries he, "I know what you'd be at; vous voudriez me possesser—you would be glad to have me, you would be glad to have me." And then in all public places he smiles content, as much as to say, "Well to be sure, Je suis un aimable fripon—I am an agreeable Devil."

Quicksett. So, so, there's enough of it—it will never do—here. I don't come often to Town—but when I do, I generally see everything strange. Here, here's three Shillings for you.

Jack. What is this more of your Raillery, Sir?

Quicksett. There, take it (Throws the Money down)—you're worth three Shillings of any man's Money, and so now I'll go and see the Dromedary, and the tall man at Charing Cross.

(Enter SIR ROBERT)

Sir Robert. Well, Mr. Quicksett, I told you he was reform'd.

Quicksett. No, no it will never do—he is reform'd indeed! To be plain with you Sir Robert, he's little better than a Monkey, I think. I have heard how he had the Mob at his heels today, and I don't wonder at it. There's no harm done, Sir Robert, I'll take the Girl into the Country with me.

Sir Robert. Nay but dear Mr. Quicksett, let me speak to you.

Quicksett. In short his Journey to France has made him a mere Ragout—and so I'll go and order Harriet to pack up all her things.

Sir Robert. (To Jack) I told you what your foppery wou'd do—Ecod I am so provok'd I cou'd find it in my Heart to marry the Girl myself.

Quicksett. I'll tell you what, Sir Robert—you're still hale and hearty, and to show how willing I am to match with you, say but the word and you shall have her yourself before that weasen-fac'd thing—but where's Harriet? (Exit)

Sir Robert. Nay, nay, but Mr. Quicksett. (Follows him)

Jack. Hey! Who's without there? Here comes that clodpated fellow—

(Enter ROGER)

Roger, let all my People be ready for me to dress.

Roger. Why the things are detained at the Coostum Hoose, and so there's no cloaths, unless you'll put on Something out of the old Trunk, you left above Stairs before you went abroad.

Jack. What, put on an English dress!

Roger. It would give my heart joy to see it, Master.

Jack. Was ever an unfortunate Gentleman in such distress? Such a day of Embarras, I never knew—pelted by the Mob, and my Father now threatening to have the Girl himself. Old Cojer is still a tough piece of Oak, and if he shou'd get a chopping Boy Egad, it may spoil the Beau. Let me see—why as my French Manners are all mere Affectation and as it will be much harder for me to keep it up I don't know whether I had not better own the Truth.

Roger. You had, indeed Master, and be a brave Englishman as you was before.

Jack. Egad, I have a mind to surprize 'em with another Frolick—let me take a moment's thought. Roger do you follow me upstairs. (Exit)

(Reenter SIR ROBERT and QUICKSETT)

Sir Robert. The young Man, Mr. Quicksett has no harm in him in the main—

Quicksett. Well but you know I am a downright Englishman, and I can never think of marrying my Daughter to a ridiculous ape of those perfidious Frenchman who have always been the Disturbers of Europe—and now have put the Nation to such an Expense.

(Enter HARRIET)

Harriet. Did you send for me, Sir?

Quicksett. Yes child; you must pack up all your things, and to get ready to go with me into the country to-morrow Morning.

Harriet. I shall be ready to obey you, Sir.

Sir Robert. Well, but Mr. Quicksett believe me, when he is got off this folly, the young Man may still make a figure.

(Enter ROGER)

Roger. Odds my heart! He'll be downstairs presently; a has taken another frolick, as he calls it, but if he sticks to it, it will be the best frolick I ever knew un to take.

Sir Robert. What's the matter Roger?

Roger. It will do your Heart good to see un—but here a comes.

(Enter JACK in an English Dress)

Jack. There Gentlemen, behold me once more an honest Englishman.

Quicksett. Why now, indeed, he looks like something.

Sir Robert. Can this be in earnest Lad?

Jack. In downright Earnest, I assure you, Sir. I consider'd my French Manners as an Incumbrance after the many disasters of this day, and so I resolv'd at one bold fling, to discharge my whole Retinue of follies, and since my heart is in fact engag'd to this Lady, I hope Mr. Quicksett, you will now give her hand to an undisguised Briton.

Quicksett. The Name and Look of a Briton warms my Blood, and if I thought you in earnest—

Jack. Sir, you may depend I shall have sense enough never to despise my own country again.

Quicksett. Here, here, take her hand, she's yours from this Moment.

Roger. Ay, I knew there was true blood at the Bottom.

Sir Robert. This is so unexpected a change I am transported with joy—Mr. Wildfire—Mr. Foxchase, come up and be partners of my Happiness.

Jack. They'll be glad to see me an honest fellow again.

(Enter WILDFIRE and FOXCHASE)

My dear Boy Wildfire give us your hand.

Wildfire. Can I believe my Eyes?

Jack. Nay, never stare, man. Foxchase, I am glad to see thee. Here's to your old friend Jack Broughton. I'll on with my Buckskins, and take a hunt with you to-morrow morning.

Wildfire. That's right my boy—away with the ridiculous outside of a Frenchman; take honest Nature for your guide, and be only what she intends you.

Jack. Ay, we'll all reform; you shall for the future Endeavor be polite Englishmen—and I will only imitate the sensible Frenchman.

Wildfire. Come, come, I own it to be wrong, and acknowledge I have been in the opposite Extream to you, an absurd Imitation of a Modern Blood.

Jack. You shall go down with me to Broughton Hall where you shall be the terror of all the Foxes for twenty Miles round, and in time we'll get a Girl to reform you too.

Foxchase. I don't care if I try the Experiment.

Quicksett. And now Sir Robert since your Son is so hopeful a young Man I'll sign the marriage Settlement as soon as you please.

Sir Robert. The lawyers will be here immediately.

Jack. And in the mean time here come two Persons to whom I must speak a few words, towards compleating this day's Business.

(Enter ABBÉ and FLORID very drunk)

Abbé. (Sings) Quand je suis a Table, tout me rejouit—ah! Pardie! You are ver fine Party dere altogether.

Florid. Had not you better come and indulge the Social Affections over the remainder of the Bottle?

Jack. A very pretty condition for a travelling Governor.

Florid. That amazing connexion between the Organs of bodily Sensation, and the faculties of Moral Perception.

Jack. Take him out of the Room; he shall be discharg'd to-morrow morning, as a vain Pretender to a Philosophy which his conduct shews him to be incapable of relishing. I remember when I was at the University I heard that several Men of distinguished Genius, were admirers of that System, and in their hands it may have its lustre, but Mr. Florid's principles, shew that he is very little enamour'd with the Ideas of Beauty and Nature.

Harriet. And pray Sir, when you dismiss him, give him back this Letter.

Jack. (Reads) "To Miss Harriet Quicksett—Ideas of Beauty and Virtue—good and beautiful are the same—enjoy with me Order, Harmony, and Proportion, O—sweetest of Sensations—Moral Sense—Eternal admirer, with the most enthusiastic Imagination. Florid." A very honest design, and agreeable to his moral fitness of things.

Florid. Why, there is no Incongruity in the Claim. Let me try it upon my Muscles, that's the way I always try a Proposition—for Ridicule being the Test of Truth—if the incongruous appearances provoke my Muscles to the Sensation of Laughter, my mind is urged to reject the claim with a gay contempt.

Jack. Take him out of the Room.

Florid. The Pleasures of a mislike Apprehension—thou Plastic Nature—empower'd Creatures etc. (Exit)

Abbé. Mais mon Chevalier de Broughton, what sort of dress is dat?

Jack. Ecoutez Monsieur l'Abbé, I brought you over to write Remarks on the English Nation, but shall no longer harbour a conceal'd Enemy to my Country. As the frolick was mine it's fit that I pay for it and you shall be supply'd with Money to carry you back to your own Country.

Abbé. Il faut que je retourne donc?

Jack. You must, Sir, and when you are arriv'd, divest yourself of your Prejudices; don't follow the Example of Voltaire and Abbé Le Blanc, but dare to speak the Truth. Tell your countrymen you heard here of a King determin'd to prosecute a vigorous War, but more desirous of an honorable Peace—tell 'em we have Ministers who understand the true Interest of their country, and are determin'd to maintain the just rights of Great Britain—tell 'em that plain good Sense, honor, honesty, and a regard for our word, are the characteristicks of the English Nation—and tell 'em the most ridiculous object you saw in this country is a Frenchify'd Englishman.

Abbé. Mais, Monsieur, est-il possible!

Jack. No more Monsieur l'Abbé—I wish you well, and take my leave.

Abbé. Pardie! Den I must go back. I shall now go play a game at Trick-Track with my friend Monsieur d'Eschallot, and den I look over my little Memorandum. To-morrow Morning, I take my Party to go back to Paris. I assure you Monsieur de Broughton, you have now give me ver pretty Memorandum—and so Messieurs and Mesdames, à l'honneur. I shall represent your liberalité—and love Shakespeare more than ever. (Exit singing)

Quicksett. Wounds! Sir Robert, what a pity it had been, this young fellow shou'd be lost, and I believe I shall rejoice in him for a son-in-Law.

Jack. I hope it will prove so, and now since we are happy together let mirth conclude the Evening, and let us my dear Wildfire celebrate our Reformation with an English Country Dance.

Wildfire. With all my Heart, and in good time; here come some other visitors that will joyn us.

Jack.

The wide Extremes of modern Life, you've seen, The home-bred, Blood, the travel'd Coxcomb's mien, But let not riot, Virtue's place supply, Nor Gallic affectation mock the Eye. So shall all politeness grow from Sense alone, And the fair smile with Beauties all their own.

FINIS

The Augustan Reprint Society

WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK

MEMORIAL LIBRARY

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES

PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT

1948-1949

16. Henry Nevil Payne, The Fatal Jealousie (1673).

18. Anonymous, "Of Genius," in The Occasional Paper, Vol. III, No. 10 (1719), and Aaron Hill, Preface to The Creation (1720).

1949-1950

19. Susanna Centlivre, The Busie Body (1709).

20. Lewis Theobald, Preface to the Works of Shakespeare (1734).

22. Samuel Johnson, The Vanity of Human Wishes (1749), and two Rambler papers (1750).

23. John Dryden, His Majesties Declaration Defended (1681).

1951-1952

31. Thomas Gray, An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard (1751), and The Eton College Manuscript.

1952-1953

41. Bernard Mandeville, A Letter to Dion (1732).

1963-1964

104. Thomas D'Urfey, Wonders in the Sun; or, The Kingdom of the Birds (1706).

1964-1965

110. John Tutchin, Selected Poems (1685-1700).

111. Anonymous, Political Justice (1736).

112. Robert Dodsley, An Essay on Fable (1764).

113. T. R., An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning (1698).

114. Two Poems Against Pope: Leonard Welsted, One Epistle to Mr. A. Pope (1730), and Anonymous, The Blatant Beast (1742).

1965-1966

115. Daniel Defoe and others, Accounts of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal.

116. Charles Macklin, The Covent Garden Theatre (1752).

117. Sir George L'Estrange, Citt and Bumpkin (1680).

118. Henry More, Enthusiasmus Triumphatus (1662).

119. Thomas Traherne, Meditations on the Six Days of the Creation (1717).

120. Bernard Mandeville, Aesop Dress'd or a Collection of Fables (1704).

1966-1967

123. Edmond Malone, Cursory Observations on the Poems Attributed to Mr. Thomas Rowley (1782).

124. Anonymous, The Female Wits (1704).

125. Anonymous, The Scribleriad (1742). Lord Hervey, The Difference Between Verbal and Practical Virtue (1742).

126. Le Lutrin: an Heroick Poem, Written Originally in French by Monsieur Boileau: Made English by N. O. (1682).

1967-1968

127-

128. Charles Macklin, A Will and No Will, or a Bone for the Lawyers (1746). The New Play Criticiz'd, or The Plague of Envy (1747).

129. Lawrence Echard, Prefaces to Terence's Comedies (1694) and Plautus's Comedies (1694).

130. Henry More, Democritus Platonissans (1646).

131. John Evelyn, The History of Sabatai Sevi, The Suppos'd Messiah of the Jews (1669).

132. Walter Harte, An Essay on Satire, Particularly on the Dunciad (1730).

Publications of the first fifteen years of the Society (numbers 1-90) are available in paperbound units of six issues at $16.00 per unit, from the Kraus Reprint Company, 16 East 46th Street, New York, N.Y. 10017.

Publications in print are available at the regular membership rate of $5.00 yearly. Prices of single issues may be obtained upon request. Subsequent publications may be checked in the annual prospectus.

William Andrews Clark Memorial Library: University of California, Los Angeles

The Augustan Reprint Society

2520 CIMARRON STREET, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90018

General Editors: William E. Conway, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library; George Robert Guffey, University of California, Los Angeles; Maximillian E. Novak, University of California, Los Angeles

Corresponding Secretary: Mrs. Edna C. Davis, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library

The Society's purpose is to publish rare Restoration and eighteenth-century works (usually as facsimile reproductions). All income of the Society is devoted to defraying costs of publication and mailing.

Correspondence concerning memberships in the United States and Canada should be addressed to the Corresponding Secretary at the William Andrews Clark Memorial Library, 2520 Cimarron Street, Los Angeles, California. Correspondence concerning editorial matters may be addressed to the General Editors at the same address. Manuscripts of introductions should conform to the recommendations of the MLA Style Sheet. The membership fee is $5.00 a year in the United States and Canada and £1.16.6 in Great Britain and Europe. British and European prospective members should address B. H. Blackwell, Broad Street, Oxford, England. Copies of back issues in print may be obtained from the Corresponding Secretary.

Publications of the first fifteen years of the Society (numbers 1-90) are available in paperbound units of six issues at $16.00 per unit, from the Kraus Reprint Company, 16 East 46th Street, New York, N. Y. 10017.

Make check or money order payable to The Regents of the University of California

REGULAR PUBLICATIONS FOR 1968-1969

133. John Courtenay, A Poetical Review of the Literary and Moral Character of the Late Samuel Johnson (1786). Introduction by Robert E. Kelley.

134. John Downes, Roscius Anglicanus (1708). Introduction by John Loftis.

135. Sir John Hill, Hypochondriasis, a Practical Treatise on the Nature and Cure of that Disorder Call'd the Hyp or Hypo (1766). Introduction by G. S. Rousseau.

136. Thomas Sheridan, Discourse ... Being Introductory to His Course of Lectures on Elocution and the English Language (1759). Introduction by G. P. Mohrman.

137. Arthur Murphy, The Englishman From Paris (1756). Introduction by Simon Trefman. Previously unpublished manuscript.

138. [Catherine Trotter], Olinda's Adventures (1718). Introduction by Robert Adams Day.

SPECIAL PUBLICATION FOR 1968-1969

After THE TEMPEST. Introduction by George Robert Guffey.

Next in the continuing series of special publications by the Society will be After THE TEMPEST, a volume including the Dryden-Davenant version of The Tempest (1670); the "operatic" Tempest (1674); Thomas Duffet's Mock-Tempest (1675); and the "Garrick" Tempest (1756), with an Introduction by George Robert Guffey.

Already published in this series are:

1. John Ogilby, The Fables of Aesop Paraphras'd in Verse (1668), with an Introduction by Earl Miner.

2. John Gay, Fables (1727, 1738), with an Introduction by Vinton A. Dearing.

3. Elkanah Settle, The Empress of Morocco (1673) with five plates; Notes and Observations on the Empress of Morocco (1674) by John Dryden, John Crowne and Thomas Shadwell; Notes and Observations on the Empress of Morocco Revised (1674) by Elkanah Settle; and The Empress of Morocco. A Farce (1674) by Thomas Duffet; with an Introduction by Maximillian E. Novak.

Price to members of the Society, $2.50 for the first copy of each title, and $3.25 for additional copies. Price to non-members, $4.00. Standing orders for this continuing series of Special Publications will be accepted. British and European orders should be addressed to B. H. Blackwell, Broad Street, Oxford, England.