_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!