_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.