Part 2

_Roger._ I ha' been at the Coostum Hoose to get un things home that he sent by long Sea from Calais but they are all siezed upon, excepten some linnen and wearing Apparrell--Wounds! Says the Coostum Hoose--Gentleman, your Master is an Enemy to his country, to lay out so much Money abroad, and starve honest Tradesfolk at Home, so there's the Devil to pay, a power of Embroidery and Lace, and I don't know what all, seiz'd upon. (_Hurra without_) Pray Master Sideboard, what may all that mean?

_Sideboard._ Why those are young Master's Companions before he went abroad, they've heard he's come home, and so they're gather'd about the Doors for joy--there's Bob Dare-devil, and Handsome Billy, and Buckhorse and all the Fellows in Town, I think.

_Roger._ Ay, but they'll find un another sort of man now, I can tell un that.

(_A knocking at the door and Enter a_ FOOTMAN)

_Footman._ Is Miss Harriet at Home?

_Sideboard._ Yes.

_Footman._ Lady Betty Mockmode--bring in the Chair.

_Chairman._ By your leave, set down.

_Lady Betty._ (_Comes out_) What can that rude canaille mean by making a Rendezvous there to derange People of Condition? I could almost fancy the Captain of the Ship has made a Mistake, and landed me at the Cape of Good Hope among the Hottentots. But where's Madamoiselle Harriet, where's Madamoiselle? (_Exit_)

_Chairman._ (_Rubbing his face_) The Devil set fire to her French airs. I've carried her all the way to Grosvenor Square, and there down Burlington Gardens, and then to St. James's Place--and then here again, a man had better be a Horse nor a chairman at this rate. Come, take out there, Paddy, we'll go and have a sup of the Craitur. (_Exeunt_)

_Sideboard._ What did that Lady come over with your Master, Roger?

_Roger._ Yes, and we had such a do with her--but don't you remember her? Why that's she a Squire Wildfire was in love with--by the by, I met Squire Wildfire and Squire Foxchase. I told un Master was come, and they were main glad, and said they'd come and see un. (_Exeunt_)

(_Scene_: JACK BROUGHTON'S _Apartment. French Servants setting the Toilette_)

_Florid._ Ridicule being the Test of Truth, Monsieur Abbé, if it brings into your Mind the motley Livery of incongruous Appearances; I fancy your account of us when you publish your Remarks on the English Nation, will strike Foreigners with a gay contempt.

_Abbé._ Monsieur, vous avez raison--but your Pupil--whence is it gone?

_Florid._ Just stept out to speak with Roger, he'll be here again instantaneously--I think between us both Monsieur Abbé, we have made him a pretty Gentleman.

_Abbé._ Ah! Pour ça oui--I have given him notion how to live, I have teach him a tousand leetle agrements--and den I have make him widout Prejudices--qu'il na pas de prejugé.

_Florid._ There Monsieur l'Abbé, I have been chiefly Instrumental--I have exploded all his former Notions made him acquainted with Plastic Nature and have wandered with him in academic Groves.

(_Enter_ JACK BROUGHTON)

_Jack._ Jarnie! Ventribleu! Que la preste m'etouffe--never tell me Man--furies! Death and Rage! What! All my things siez'd upon at the Custom House. I shall make my address to the Comptroller of the Finances or the Fermiers Generaux--I'll commence a Procés Verbal--Florid, did you ever hear of such a thing? Monsieur Abbé ayez pitié de moi--my Embroideries, my Laces, my Silks, my Pompons for the Ladies, all siez'd by the unmannerly Brutes--

_Abbé._ You call dis Liberty and Property, I tink in dis country.

_Jack._ Liberty and Property! Robbery and Arbitrary Powers to strip a Gentleman at this rate! But rot 'em, they have been making Piracies upon us for several Months past.

_Abbé._ Mais, ne vous derangez pas, Monsieur.

_Jack._ Non, mon cher Abbé Millamour--I'll not derange myself about it.

_Abbé._ Ecoutez mon cher Enfant--you must be toujours gai; and if par hazard, you are met en colère you must swear wid an air--que la peste m'etouffe--ça ne vaut rien. But I give you a Book of Oats made by a Swiss Officer, improve by an English Captain of Marine and finish by a Gascon Abbé, who lose all his Money at Trick-track.

_Jack._ Mon cher Abbé, you are too good.

_Florid._ And I shall dedicate you a System of the most refin'd and true Philosophy--it is partly from the French, and I call it the Theory of Agreeable Sensations.

_Jack._ That will give me a reputation for the Belles Lettres; but come, let me see if my arrival is mentioned dans les Affiches--le voila. "Yesterday arriv'd at his Father Sir Robert Broughton's John Broughton, Esq. from his Travels abroad, and we hear that a treaty of Marriage is on foot, and will speedily be consumated between him and Miss Harriet Quicksett, a beautiful young Lady and an Heiress." Pardie! C'est bien suprenant; do my dear Florid, order my vis-a-vis, that I may go abroad and contradict this Rumor. Matrimony is too plain a dish, and what I believe I shall never sit down to--I possibly may go to an Ordinary, but that will only be for a Smack and away--at least if I ever should take up with it, I shall be sure to have it better season'd to my Palate, than mon cher Pere intends. My dear Abbé, I have brought you to a strange country.

_Abbé._ Pardie! Ver strange indeed! I have see for the times a good deal. I have dine yesterday at a caffée--I know not what you call--Monsieur D'Eschallot bring me dare. Monsieur D'Eschallot, I assure you is ver prett Gentleman, and leave two tousand livres devant, avec droit de chasse, behind him--avec droit de chasse Monsieur; but by Gar I never see such dinner in all my Life. "How do you do?--Very well tank you--What news?--Noting at all--My service to you, to you, to you, to you" all de way down, and ma foi, dey talk no more. And den, jarnie! Me was ver much surprise to see my own Countrymen as unmannerly as de English--and I scramble for de Soup and boulli--me was 'fraid to put my hand to de dish, for fear amidst all de Knife and Fork, somebody in a hurry help himself to my fingers.

_Jack._ O this Country is enough to ruin the manners of an Angel.

_Abbé._ And den I was at de play last night, Otello I tink was de play--by Gar he vas in ver great Passion because he loose his Handkercher--such play! It is one of Shakespeare I tink--

_Jack._ O le Barbare! Voltaire you know calls him a Drunken Savage--un Savage enyorée!

_Abbé._ But by Gar me vas ver much please to see so many naked Shoulder in de Box, and ma foi, to see some of the Ladies paint as much by Gar as if dey be in Paris. But Monsieur de Broughton tink upon vat I say to you about des Airs, des façons, and de manières--you have already ver pretty French Manners--you have de turn of de Head, de movement of de Shoulder, de geste, de Look, de Inflexion de Voix; and pon my vor, you take snuff, you smile, you whisper, comme à la cour de France.

_Jack._ Oh you flatter me--I wish I could obtain an Act of Parliament to unnaturalize myself.

_Abbé._ Laisez moi faire, I make you in ver leetle time so dat nobody know you, you have ver good Naturel; vous avez les graces en partage Monsieur you have ver much grace, and den you must never tink, never plodd--no Embarras about Sense. Il faut voltiger Monsieur--fly about from one ting to an uder, talk ill of your Acquaintance, you must have your leetle Bagatelle, your leetle Persiflage. An so now I go make my memorandum of vat I see in dis country.

(_Enter_ ST. LOUIS)

_St. Louis._ Two coachmen below Stair want to speak vid you Sir.

_Jack._ Coachmen! Why you know I'm provided, but it's rumour'd about I'm arriv'd and the fellows are ambitious of being in my Service, that they may see me give myself airs--let 'em come up. My dear Abbé, you can't be too severe in your Remarks on the English Nation.

_Abbé._ Laisez moi faire--I now go make my memorandum. Let me see--de man dat preach to de Butcher every Sunday--yesterday an Englishman hang himself, but dat is noting new. De preacher at Moorfields--de Robin Hood Society--de dissertation at Macklin's Room--de Mob at de Executions--'twill do ver well, and so Monsieur de Broughton au revoir. Il faut voltiger Monsieur. (_Sings_)

Sans L'amour et sans ses charmes, Tout languit dans l'univers. (_Exit_)

(_Enter_ WILDFIRE _and_ FOXCHASE)

_Wildfire._ Ha! My Boy Jack! Give us your hand you queer Son of a Bitch.

_Foxchase._ How dost my Boy? I'm glad to see thee.

_Jack._ Pardie voila la mode d'Angleterre! St. Louis, did you not say that two coachmen wanted to speak with me?

_St. Louis._ Pardonnez moi, Monsieur--me no know dat Gentlemen dress like coachman in dis Country.

_Jack._ Let Roger attend the Door for the future--I'll keep him as a Valet de place.

_Wildfire._ Ram my Eyes, the same comical Son of a Bitch he ever was--mimicking the French--Scoundrels. Come speak to me, or I'll have you in the Mark.

_Jack._ I thought, Sir, the bruising Amphithea[t]re had been shut up--but your English Gazettes are always telling abominable Lyes.

_Wildfire._ Come, my Boy, how do you do?

_Jack._ Pardie! Voila toujours, how do you do?

_Wildfire._ Well, but Jack, did you see Buck in Paris?

_Jack._ Who, Sir?

_Foxchase._ Buck.

_Jack._ I know very little of the Gentleman, Sir. I saw him once where I happened to be upon a Visit, and mentioned that I should come over and shew the advantages of Travel, and display to all our Beaux and pretty Gentlemen, an Englishman return'd from Paris; and so whip and Spur, away he set out, that he might make the first Impression, and I hear in his Empressment his Post-chaise broke down on the road.

_Wildfire._ Well, but you, I was at the old Place last night--about went the Bottle like a Windmill in a Storm. At length we sallied forth, and smash went the Lamp into a thousand Shatters, and the watch cower'd before us like so many Midnight Rascals; at last two or three of 'em stood their ground and [they][12] dealt their Poles about our Ears--but soon we clos'd in upon 'em made their old lanthorn Jaws rattle again, stretched 'em in the Kennel, and so we got clear off. (_Lolls on Jack's Shoulder_)

[12] The manuscript has "we."

_Foxchase._ I am just come smoaking hot from Epsom; I was after the hounds all day yesterday, the rarest Sport in Nature--away swept the Dogs, and old Reynard before 'em like a cunning son of a bitch as he was, led us a Devil's Dance after his old rank Tail--Silverlocks and I perform'd Wonders. Hillo! Ho! Cleared everything. (_Lolls on his other Shoulder_)

_Jack._ Nay, but Gentlemen--

_Foxchase._ I'll tell you who was our Party--you know Bob Nankeen--there was he--and Jack Oakstir--and Billy Thachm, and Harry Lappelle, and myself, and so we drank like Souls all night, and then I scamper'd up to Town like Lightning--

_Jack._ Gentlemen, I think I have read in one of your English Gazettes of a Dancing School for grown People. I cou'd wish Gentlemen you wou'd both profit of the Occasion.

_Wildfire._ Come, you've kept the Farce up long enough. Shall we dine together?

_Jack._ I am to dine in particular today.

_St. Louis._ I put on your Wig, Sir.

_Jack._ Allons, St. Louis. (_Sits down_)

_Wildfire._ What's that, a Wig? (_Jack puts on a mask while his man powders him_) Wounds what a fellow it is. Egad he's in earnest all this while. He has forgot the plainess and honesty of an Englishman without having the outside Shew of a Frenchman.

_Foxchase._ Come along man, let's leave the fellow to himself.

_Wildfire._ Lookye Jack. (_Pulls the mask from Jack's face_) When you are the same honest fellow we once knew we shall to crack a Bottle with you, but while you continue a ridiculous Ape of French Manners, we heartily despise you, and so you may go and be damn'd Mounsieur. Hillo ho! (_Exeunt_)

_Jack._ Hey! St. Louis, Bourguignon, La Fleur, Hector, de Roger, I am never at home for these People again. Pardie sont des Homes a jetter par le Fenestre to be thrown out of the window. Allons, finish my head, St. Louis.

(_Enter_ ROGER)

_Roger._ Lady Betty Mockmode, Sir, is with Miss Harriet, and desires to speak with you.

_Jack._ This Eyebrow is very obstinate today, here La Fleur, arch my Eyebrow. Tell my Lady Betty that I am so deranged by these People, that I must now go and take the Air to recover my Spirits--and tell my Lady Betty if she will come to the Park, we will entertain ouselves with a little Raillery upon the Mob of English Gentlemen. It is well observed by one of the wits of France that few People know how to take a walk, I'll shew them how to walk. Plus belle que l'Aurora. (_Exit_)

(_Scene the Park. Enter_ WILDFIRE _and_ FOXCHASE)

_Wildfire._ Split the fellow! Did you ever see anything so metamorphos'd? But rot him. Let's talk no more about him.

_Foxchase._ He verifies the old Proverb, send a Goose from Dover--there's hardly any Company in the Park this Morning.

_Wildfire._ A few discontented Politicians, and Poets taking the benefit of the Air; but what the Deuce is the Matter yonder?

_Foxchase._ There's a Mob got together--

_Wildfire._ Split me, but I believe it is--yes, it is--it is by Jupiter--it's Jack Broughton with the Mob at his Heels, death what a figure he cuts! Let's step aside, and not pretend to know him.

(_Enter_ JACK BROUGHTON _dress'd fantastically_)

_Mob._ Hurra! Hurra! Make room for the French Gentleman.

_1st Mob._ Mounsieur, Mounsieur, what will you dine upon the haunch of a Frog today?

_2nd Mob._ Mounsieur, what was you taken Prisoner?

_Jack._ Ma foi, voila, un droll de Paris--English Manners.

_Mob._ Hurra! Hurra!

_Jack._ Hey Bourguignon, La Fleur, Hector, this fellow has picked my Pocket here.

_Pickpocket._ I pick your pocket! I scorn your Words, ram my Eyes, what do you mean Mounsieur? I believe I've as much Money in my pocket as you, for all your Bag Mounsieur. Come, now, ram my Eyes, will you box?

_Jack._ English Liberty in Perfection! The fellow puts his hand in my Pocket, whips out my Handkerchief, and when I tell him he's a Fripon, the Scoundrel cries, "Ram my Eyes will you Box."

_Pickpocket._ Come now, for all you're a Gentleman--

_Mob._ A Ring, a Ring for the French Gentleman. (_A ring made_)

_Jack._ Nay, but Gentlemen, I am no Frenchman, there are two Gentlemen there, that know me--Mr. Wildfire, Mr. Foxchase--

_Wildfire._ What does the fellow mean? I know nothing of you.

_Jack._ Nay, but Gentlemen you see my Distress.

_Wildfire._ We know nothing of you Fellow. Who is he?

_Mob._ A French Spy, I suppose.

_Mob._ Let the French Gentleman have fair Play.

_1st Mob._ Come now, what signifies your law? I saw you pick his Pocket.

_Mob._ Did you? Hurra! A Pickpocket--let's duck him--a Pickpocket! Hurra!

_Jack._ O Paris! Paris! But who have we here? My Lady Betty by all that's agreeable.

(_Enter_ LADY BETTY)

_Lady Betty._ Oh, I shall expire in this Country! English Liberty will certainly be the death of me. Mon cher Cavalier the horrid creatures got round me as if they had never seen a Gentlewoman before.

_Jack._ Madam, I have the Honor of sympathising with your Ladyship. They surrounded me too, and I suppose wou'd still have kept me en Embarras had they not been call'd off to participate of an English Diversion call'd ducking a Pickpocket.

_Lady Betty._ Marquis! Marquis! Marquis! As sure as you are there my poor little Dog is lost--let my Chairman and Servants seek about--I'll give any reward for him. I brought him with me for a little Air, the poor thing had the Vapours ever since he arriv'd, the Air of this Country is too thick and scorbutic for him, and then you know Marquis was always Journalier; such a gloom hangs over the People he cou'd not endure to go into Company! I am so deranged I look like a fright--do I? He--how do I look?

_Jack._ Madam, your Face is admirably imagin'd today. I always said in Paris that you had a better taste for Faces, than any of them.

_Lady Betty._ Well, that is so obliging now--pauvre Marquis! My poor Marquis! I took him to visit with me last night, it would divert you to see how the dear little thing stared at them seated at the Whist Tables. "How do you like Paris Madam? What's Trumps? Clubs--hum! Is it as large as London? They say short aprons are coming into fashion." And that was all the conversation for half an hour--and then to see the dear creature bark at 'em when they all began in one loud Din. "Captain Hazard, why did you not lead thro' the Honors? Dear Madam, why did you not see-saw? My Lord how could you think of finessing--don't you know what Hoyle says? If A and B are Partners against C and D and the game nine all. A and B have won three tricks, and C and D four tricks then C leads his Suit, D puts up the King, then returns the Suit; A passes, C puts up the Queen, B finesses, and so A and B etc."

_Jack._ Well to be sure they have very fine Raillery in this Country--

_Lady Betty._ And then at the Brag Table, such a Scene of confusion! I brag--hum! I pass--hum! And then to see my Lady Laststake bully the Room with a Thump of her Fist on the Table, "And I brag ten guineas over." (_Hurra without_)

_Jack._ Oh that rude Canaille have duck'd their Pickpocket, and are following us again, do my Lady Betty, let us make our Escape. Hey! Let touts mes gens be ready. St. Louis, Bourguignon, La Fleur! (_Exeunt_)

(_Enter_ WILDFIRE _and_ FOXCHASE)

_Wildfire._ What a figure they both cut!

_Foxchase._ They've been rightly serv'd.

_Wildfire._ Let us go and dine at his Father's to plague the fellow.

_Foxchase._ With all my Heart. Sir Robert will be glad to see us.

_Wildfire._ By Jupiter the People are after 'em still. They deserve it. The Man who foolishly adopts French Manners, joyns in League with their Barbers, their Milliners, and is guilty of a Petit-Treason to his Country. (_Exeunt_)

(_The End of the 1st Act_)

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.