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.