The Englishman from Paris Part 3

_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 ma.n.u.script 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 b.i.t.c.h 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 d.a.m.n'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 Ladys.h.i.+p. They surrounded me too, and I suppose wou'd still have kept me en Embarras had they not been call'd off to partic.i.p.ate 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 s...o...b..tic 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.