_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_)
_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.
_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.
_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_)