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.