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.