Produced by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper, Ernest Schaal,
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
https://www.pgdp.net









                      THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY


                             Arthur Murphy


                             The Englishman
                               from Paris


                                _(1756)_


                           _Introduction by_
                             Simon Trefman


                         PUBLICATION NUMBER 137
                 WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
                 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
                                  1969




                            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_


                            ASSOCIATE EDITOR

  David S. Rodes, _University of California, Los Angeles_


                            ADVISORY EDITORS

  Richard C. Boys, _University of Michigan_
  James L. Clifford, _Columbia University_
  Ralph Cohen, _University of Virginia_
  Vinton A. Dearing, _University of California, Los Angeles_
  Arthur Friedman, _University of Chicago_
  Louis A. Landa, _Princeton University_
  Earl Miner, _University of California, Los Angeles_
  Samuel H. Monk, _University of Minnesota_
  Everett T. Moore, _University of California, Los Angeles_
  Lawrence Clark Powell, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
  James Sutherland, _University College, London_
  H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., _University of California, Los Angeles_
  Robert Vosper, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_


                        CORRESPONDING SECRETARY

  Edna C. Davis, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_


                          EDITORIAL ASSISTANT

  Mary Kerbret, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_




                              INTRODUCTION


Arthur Murphy's afterpiece, _The Englishman From Paris_, was given its
first and last performance at Drury Lane on 3 April 1756. According to
the prompter's account the play "went off well," and the receipts for
the night, £240, indicate that a large audience attended.[1] However,
despite these optimistic signs, Murphy never published the play nor did
he allow it to be presented again on any stage. It is even possible that
Murphy tried to destroy all traces of it; for the Lord Chamberlain's
copy from which this edition is printed was not found in the usual
depository, the Larpent Collection. Instead, the manuscript got in the
hands of private collectors, was wrongly ascribed to Samuel Foote, and
was sold in a series of auctions as an unconsidered part of a lot of
rare biblical and Shakesperian items.[2] In this manner the play finally
came into the possession of the Newberry Library where it eventually was
correctly catalogued, but its adventitious provenance is marked by it
being the only manuscript play in the collection.

[1] _The London Stage_ 1660-1800, ed. George Winchester Stone, Jr.
    (Carbondale, Ill., 1962), Part 4, II, 536. I would like to thank
    the Newberry Library for permission to reproduce this previously
    unpublished manuscript of Murphy's _Englishman From Paris_.

[2] Simon Trefman, "Arthur Murphy's Long Lost _Englishman From
    Paris_: A Manuscript Discovered," _Theatre Notebook_, XX (Summer
    1966), 137-138.

Certainly one important reason for Murphy's reticence to exhibit his
play can be found in the events leading up to its production. Samuel
Foote, who at this time was known as a comic actor and a writer of
farces, was a close friend of Murphy's and in the summer of 1754, when
Murphy was short of money, had taken him into his house. He encouraged
the young Murphy to become an actor, gave him lessons, and, no doubt,
was useful in getting him started in his new career at Covent Garden.
The following summer saw Murphy in far better circumstances. Garrick
articled him to act as a replacement for Mossop and also scheduled
Murphy's first farce, _The Apprentice_, for production that same season.
In a gush of confidence, Murphy told Foote, whose help and encouragement
had borne such fruit, of his plans for a new farce. He was going to
write a sequel to one of Foote's plays, _The Englishman in Paris_ (C. G.
24 March 1753), a popular farce that satirized the boorish antics of a
young English squire in a country where politeness is the mode.
Murphy's idea was to show this blood returned to England as a
Frenchified effeminate fop at odds with his family and former friends.
Foote listened closely as Murphy gave him the plot and even some of the
dialogue. Then, thinking that no one had a better right to a sequel than
the author of the original, Foote, keeping his own counsel, wrote _The
Englishman Return'd From Paris_ in time for the new season.[3]

[3] William Cooke, _Memoirs of Samuel Foote_ (London, 1805), I,
    72-73.

Although Foote was accused of plagiarism by Murphy and then by others
who had not seen the play, the charge was not strictly true. There are
general similarities because both plays are based upon the same idea,
and, if one looks closely, certain jokes and other bits of dialogue are
too alike to be accidental. It is also possible that Crab of Foote's
play was developed from certain characteristics of Quicksett. Yet on the
whole, Foote's plot, characterization, and dialogue are so distinctly
different from Murphy's that Foote can be given credit for writing his
own play. The attitudes of both writers towards their objects of satire
were entirely different. Foote wrote a wild and whimsical farce where
much of the humor is slapstick. Murphy's play is a carefully worked out
comedy where extreme behavior of any kind is gently ridiculed.

Despite Foote's desire for secrecy while getting his play ready for
production, Murphy would be sure to hear the news as soon as plans were
given out for costumes, sets, and rehearsals. His first response to
Foote's betrayal of their friendship was to publish anonymously _The
Spouter: or, the Triple Revenge_. This unplayed farce was probably
published in late January, a week or two before Foote's play was to be
shown. In an understandable but scurrilous rage, Murphy vilified Foote
(as Dapperwit) using all the advantages of a once close friendship. In
addition to being accused of plagiarism, Foote had all his personal
foibles held up to public ridicule. Though an able and often eager
controversialist, Foote made no reply but slyly advertised that his play
would open 3 February at Covent Garden and would be "a New Farce Sequel
to _The Englishman in Paris_, by the same author." The audience's
response to Foote's version justified Murphy's worst apprehensions; it
proved to be a brilliant success and was played nineteen times that
season.[4]

[4] Stone, II, 524, et passim.

It seems probable that Murphy did not plan to bring out his new play
that season because he had already introduced _The Apprentice_ (D.L. 2
January 1756). But he was an irascible man and it was undoubtedly
galling to watch Foote reap fame and fortune on his idea. Providing
himself some small measure of satisfaction and thinking he had little to
lose, Murphy made plans to give the play at least one performance on his
benefit night as an actor (he had already been given a benefit as an
author) and to alter some parts of the play to expose further Foote's
duplicity.

Although he did not act in the play, Murphy spoke the prologue which
bemoaned the fate of the dramatist:

    Shall he consult his friends?--when once 'tis shown
    If some friends like, they make the _hint_ their own.[5]

    [5] _Literary Magazine_ (15 March-15 April 1756), I, 29.

Two contemporaries also quote a last minute addition that is not in the
manuscript of the play. Foote's Englishman, Buck, probably dressed
similarly to Foote who played the role, appears on stage to say: "O Yes!
I grant you there has been an _imposter_ about town, who with easy
familiarity and assurance, has stolen my writings, &c.; and not only
thus treacherously robbed, but impudently dared to assume my very name
even to my face; but I am the true Charles Buck, I assure you."[6] The
manuscript too makes a reference to Foote's plagiarism when Bob Wildfire
and Harry Foxchase ask Jack if he had seen Buck in his travels. This
part too is probably a late insertion for it is irrelevant to the plot
and the characters.

[6] Cooke, I, 74-75; and Tate Wilkinson, _Memoirs of His Own Life_
    (York, 1790), II, 71-72.

Interestingly enough, Murphy's sequel is based on different characters
from those appearing in Foote's play, but it is closer in spirit to the
original than Foote's own sequel. Murphy's is an ironic and gentle
comedy that at first glance seems to be chauvinistically anti-French and
pro-English, reflecting public sentiment prior to the outbreak of the
Seven-Years' War with France. Though the climax of the plot is the fop's
rejection of French affectations (and Murphy made sure that the French
dogs did not get the best of it), English brutality and intolerance are
also exposed; and care is taken that nothing irrevocable is done so that
there is room for reformation on both sides. Foote's sequel, unlike his
original, is a fast-paced, almost brutal farce that depends on slapstick
and whimsy for belly laughs. Foote did pay some lip service to the
superiority of English manners and morals, but he was more interested in
getting his audience to laugh than to applaud. Murphy's play is more
serious, more sensible, and more tolerant than Foote's, but it would
suffer in comparison with the livelier play. Murphy's realization of
this inevitable comparison would probably be a strong reason for him to
disown his play.

Murphy's attitude is exemplified by his characters. Except for Florid,
none of them is truly treacherous or malicious; though some may be
foolish and intolerant, they are not beyond redemption. Characters that
represent simple-minded patriotic attitudes--such as Quicksett, Roger,
and The Mob--were likely to be cheered by the galleries; but the more
judicious part of the audience would have been able to recognize their
naivety and inflexibility. Quicksett as a no-nonsense John Bull squire
may serve to draw Jack Broughton out to his foppish worst, but he is
also too set in his ways to appreciate anything beyond his own narrow
views of property and propriety. Roger, the servant, is sincere in
hating his French compeers, and his thrashing of the French servants
undoubtedly elicited applause; but his limited understanding is also
held up to ridicule.

On the other side, Abbé Millamour, who is writing a book of observations
on the English nation, is Murphy's response to Jean Bernard Le Blanc, a
French Abbé whose published comments on the English did not endear him
to that people.[7] Though the Abbé is made an object of laughter, he is
allowed to come to an understanding of the English virtues, and he
praises them at the end of the play.

[7] Jean Bernard Le Blanc, _Lettres d'un François_ (Hague, 1745).
    See George R. Havens, "The Abbé Le Blanc and English
    Literature," _MP_, XVIII (1920), 79-97.

Florid's role in the play is more ambiguous than that of the other
characters. As a false philosopher who spouts nonsense, he represents
an affectation that is universal rather than national. Murphy, by
placing him in Jack's entourage as a tutor and by having Florid claim
that his theories are partly French, does put him on the French side.
But it is also clear from references made to "characteristics,"
"plastic nature," "systems of harmony," and the like that he is a
Shaftesburian. Furthermore, Florid's "gay contempt" as a reaction to
"the motley Livery of incongruous Appearances" is a paraphrase of some
lines of _The Pleasures of the Imagination_ by Mark Akenside, the
Shaftesburian poet.[8] Florid's incomprehensible spoutings can be seen
as mocking Akenside's turgid and abstract style, but I do not think
that Murphy meant to be taken seriously in this caricature of the poet.
A few years earlier in his _Gray's Inn Journal_, Murphy had shown
himself appreciative of the works of Akenside and Shaftesbury;[9] and
Murphy does not lampoon Akenside's personality as Smollett had done in
_Peregrine Pickle_ (1751). Furthermore, though Murphy mocks the concept
that ridicule is the test of truth by Florid's defense, this
Shaftesburian idea that Akenside vigorously upheld is approved of in
another play by Murphy, _Know Your Own Mind_. This time the hypocrite
Malvil, when exposed by ridicule, insists that it is no fair test of
truth. Perhaps, because of Murphy's recent familiarity with the poet
and the philosopher, he saw a possibility of raising a laugh through
parody, but he never meant to indicate his disapproval of either man.

[8] Mark Akenside, _Pleasures of the Imagination_ (London, 1744),
    pp. 105-107.

[9] _Gray's Inn Journal_ (London, 1756), Nos. 10, 44, 45, 46, 57,
    90, 96, 98. In 45 and 90 Murphy quotes passages from Akenside
    with great approval, including one that is later parodied by
    Florid.

Murphy's play is a plea for good sense--for all classes of society to
avoid extreme behavior. The upper classes tend to be affected or
unthinking, boorish pranksters; the lower classes can degenerate into a
brutal, capricious mob. Murphy shows that there is room in the English
way of life for tolerance, good sense, and patriotism. There was a need
for this view in 1756 when riots against the French were common, and it
took some skill to write a play that seemed to confirm national
prejudices at the beginning and thus insure a hearing and to end by
gently exposing those prejudices to ridicule. Had Murphy not been
disheartened by Foote's competition, this play might have had its share
of success.

In trying to retain the flavor of the manuscript, I have altered mainly
those aspects which would interfere with an easy comprehension of the
piece. To that end I have broken up run-on sentences when it seemed to
me that the point was lost in the ramble, though when the meaning was
clear I made no changes, because the lack of a full stop preserved the
natural flow of spoken words. The dashes were also kept when they gave
an indication of the rhythm and flow of dialogue, but when the meaning
became confused other punctuation was substituted to preserve the sense.
The erratic capitalization of the play was kept for nouns and compound
nouns, but capitals always replaced lower case letters for the first
letter of a sentence. The original eighteenth-century spelling was
retained, but obvious misspellings were corrected. The mangled French of
Jack, who is not supposed to be fluent in that language, was not
touched, but the French of the Abbé and the French servants was
corrected. All stage directions have been given in parentheses, and
legible but crossed out sections of dialogue in italics. All editorial
insertions have been placed within brackets.

Queensborough Community College,
The City University of New York




                     THE ENGLISHMAN FROM PARIS[10]


                   *       *       *       *       *


                           DRAMATIS PERSONAE

    SIR ROBERT BROUGHTON                                  Mr. Burton

    JACK BROUGHTON                                      Mr. Woodward

    QUICKSETT, _A Country Gentleman, Father
               to Harriet_                               Mr. Bransby

    FLORID, _A Philosopher and Tutor to young
            Broughton_                                     Mr. Yates

    M. MILLAMOUR, _A French Abbé_                         Mr. Blakes

    BOB WILDFIRE                                          Mr. Palmer

    HARRY FOXCHASE                                         Mr. Beard

    ROGER                                                 Mr. Clough

    SIDEBOARD                                          Mr. Jefferson

    FRENCH SERVANTS, MOB, ETC.

    LADY BETTY MOCKMODE                                   Mrs. Clive

    HARRIET, _Daughter to Quicksett_                  Miss Miles[11]

    [10] The manuscript is dated 29 March 1756, as part of the
         following note to the Licenser signed by Garrick and Lacy:
         "Sir/ This farce we intend to have perform'd at our Theatre
         if it meets with the Approbation of my Lord Chamberlain.
         from yr humble servants/D. Garrick & J. Lacy." Directly
         above this note in another hand is written "by Samuel
         Foote."

    [11] Miss Miles who was to have played Harriet was replaced by
         Miss Minors according to the playbill in Stone, II, 536.




                              ACT the 1st


               (SIR ROBERT BROUGHTON _and_ MR. QUICKSETT)

_Quicksett._ Why as to that matter, Sir Robert, I esteem you as
my old Acquaintance, and I had as soon marry my Daughter into
Sir Robert Broughton's Family, as any Family in England.

_Sir Robert._ I flatter myself Mr. Quicksett you can have no
reason to blush at the alliance; and then as the young Couple have
known one another from their Infancy, and as both our Estates lie
contiguous--

_Quicksett._ Why, as you say, the match in some respects may
be a prudent match--your Estate is a fine one, and when Neighbor
Hodge's Lease, and Barnaby Guzzledown's, and two or three more
of them fall in--but I forgot to tell you, your old Horse Regulus is
dead--I saw him last week--he was a fine Animal in his Time. He
was a great while drooping, and he died without a groan.

_Sir Robert._ So my Steward writes me. But Mr. Quicksett, this
is wandering from the Point--my Son--

_Quicksett._ Is a mere Coxcomb, I hear, since I came to Town--I
have no Opinion of your French Education.

_Sir Robert._ Dear Sir, it is the best thing in the World to reform
youth.

_Quicksett._ I don't know that Sir Robert; I have seen a great many
hopefull, promising young Men, come home such mere Ragouts. I'll tell
you what, Sir Robert--I was hugely pleas'd with one Inscription I once
read in a country church-yard. "Here lies John Trott, an honest Man
who was never out of his own Country."

_Sir Robert._ Nay, nay, but I tell you, all accounts from Paris
speak very well of the young Man.

_Quicksett._ Well, well, seeing is believing--I come up to Town
on purpose to be present at the Wedding, and now I am here, I don't
know what to say to it. I thank you, however, for your care of my
daughter, she has been but a Troublesome Baggage, I fear, here in
your House so long.

_Sir Robert._ So agreeable, that I'm not fond of parting with her.

_Quicksett._ Why does not the young Man appear then? I want
to see him.

_Sir Robert._ I have sent upstairs for him--he'll be here presently.

_Quicksett._ I don't know how to say it--he's but just arriv'd
as I may say, and he's the Town-talk already.

                          (_Enter_ SIDEBOARD)

_Sideboard._ My young Master is not stirring yet, Sir.

_Quicksett._ Not stirring at this time o' day?

_Sir Robert._ Nay, there's nothing in that--he has not recover'd
from his Fatigue--but there's his governor yonder. He can give
an account of him--call him in Sideboard. The Truth of the matter
is, I have not seen much of him myself, but by all accounts--O,
here comes Mr. Florid--Mr. Florid, they say is a particular sort of
Philosopher that talks much of characteristicks, I don't well understand
what characteristicks are, but he is a well spoken Man. O,
here he comes.

                            (_Enter_ FLORID)

_Florid._ Sir Robert, I hope I see you with your Spirits in due
Harmony, and all your Affections in proper ballance.

_Sir Robert._ I am very well, I thank you, if you mean that--Mr.
Florid, this is Mr. Quicksett.

_Florid._ The warmth of my Affections, Sir Robert, gives an instantaneous
glow to my Spirits, and I behold your Friend with Congenial
Feelings, and all the Impulse of Sympathetic Raptures. Sir,
your most Obedient.

_Quicksett._ Sir, your Servant--I am a plain spoken Man, lookye,
downright, and honest--my intended Son-in-Law, I find has been
under your Care. I should be glad to hear from you that he has
taken up a little, and sowed his wild Oats, as I may say.

_Florid._ Dear Sir, such an alteration was never known. The
Senses in general, Sir, have been wrongly confin'd to the five Classes
of External Senses--there are, Sir, in Human Nature many other
Inlets of Perception--there is the Public Sense--the Private Sense--the
Sense of Honor--the Moral Sense--the Internal Sense--

_Quicksett._ Ay, but has he common Sense?

_Florid._ The Sensus Communis, or the Public Sense is the same
thing. Now Sir, there is an amazing Connexion between the Organs
of Bodily Sensation, and the Faculties of Moral Perception, and
there are certain Powers in Human Nature--which seem to be Intermediate--

_Quicksett._ Sir Robert, I don't rightly comprehend this.

_Florid._ Those Intermediate Powers have been stiled in general
the Powers of Imagination, which do not seem to have given
him an ardent propensity to the Mimetic Arts--but his faculties of
moral perception have given him the To Prepon, the Kalogathia of
the Greeks, Honestum of the Latins, the Sympathetic Regularity,
the Responsive Harmony--

_Quicksett._ Odds, my life, I had as soon be at a Foxchase without
ever seeing the Dogs, as hear all this without understanding a
Word.

_Sir Robert._ Mr. Florid, my Friend Quicksett is like myself a
plain spoken Man--cou'd not you tell him now in plain English that
the Boy is reform'd?

_Florid._ Dear Sir, that's the very thing I'm about--the young
Gentleman has really very delicate Sensations, and when I have
fixed in him certain determinations to be pleas'd with the complex
forms of Beauty, Regularity, Order, Harmony and Proportion--

_Quicksett._ I am very much obliged to you, Sir--but I am as
far to seek as ever. And so now I'll go to the coffeehouse and see
if the Papers mention the taking of any more French ships.

_Sir Robert._ Nay, but Mr. Quicksett--don't be in such a hurry,
my Son shall be call'd upon.

_Quicksett._ No, I won't disturb him--I'll call again in the Evening.

_Sir Robert._ Well, well, I'll step to the coffe house with you--will
you dine with us?

_Quicksett._ No, I am to dine with Sergeant Interrogatory in
Chancery Lane--but I'll call in the Evening.

_Florid._ You may make yourself perfectly easy about the young
Gentleman--you'll find every Word I have said to be true.

                                   (_Exit Sir Robert and Quicksett_)

_Florid._ (_Alone_) I have already fixed a ridiculous Aposiation
of Ideas in my young Pupil's Mind concerning Marriage. If I can
bring him to decline it, I shall see whether I can't awaken Miss
Harriet's Affections in my own behalf--I have almost finish'd a
short Treatise upon Beauty, which I shall dedicate to her. I must
make all I can of this family; and then the pleasures of Imagination
will strike the Internal Sense with a finer Impulse, when some
Ideas of Property concur.

                          (_Enter_ SIDEBOARD)

_Sideboard._ My young Master's stirring Sir, and desires to
speak with you, Sir.

_Florid._ Honest Sideboard, I attend him.                   (_Exit_)

_Sideboard._ This House is nothing but a Scene of confusion,
I think, with all these French Parlevous about the House.

                     (_Enter_ ST. LOUIS _singing_)

_St. Louis._ La Guerre en Angleterre--hey--Bourguignon--La
Fleur, you must come upstair.

                            (_French Servants run across the Stage_)

_Sideboard._ I wish these fellows were out of the House--always
quarrelling with the Cook--and tossing up Ragouts and powdering
their Hair in the Kitchen--so friend Roger--

                            (_Enter_ ROGER)

_Roger._ Master Sideboard, a good Morning to you.

_Sideboard._ Good Morning, Roger. Why you're not chang'd in
your Travels abroad Roger.

_Roger._ No, Heav'n be prais'd, they cou'd not change me. Is
the Squire stirring yet?

_Sideboard._ Yes, and that chattering Frenchman is with him.
Pray, who is he?

_Roger._ O that's Mounsieur Abbé--the Squire has brought un
home with un to write Remarks, as I overheard un say, upon all
our Country Folk. He has learned English on purpose, and jabbers
from Morning to Night. Lord! When he was abroad, a used to dress
quite and clean in another manner, a was all over black with a silk
thing flowing behind, with a spruce Wig, and a black Patch on the
Crown of his head, as if a was one of your Sergeants at Law as one
may see upon circuit; but dear Heart, the Squire will be in a sad
frame presently when I tell un what news I got for un.

_Sideboard._ Why, what's the matter now?

_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.

_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


                             [Illustration]


                               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.




Transcriber Notes:

The footnotes have been rearranged to put them after the paragraphs
rather than at the end of the sections.

On Page iii, "&c" was replaced with "&c.".

On Page 6, a period was added after "JACK BROUGHTON'S Apartment".





End of Project Gutenberg's The Englishman from Paris, by Arthur Murphy