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.
(Enter ROGER)
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)
(Scene the Park. Enter WILDFIRE and FOXCHASE)
Wildfire. Split the fellow! Did you ever see anything so metamorphos'd? But rot him. Let's talk no more about him.
Foxchase. He verifies the old Proverb, send a Goose from Dover—there's hardly any Company in the Park this Morning.
Wildfire. A few discontented Politicians, and Poets taking the benefit of the Air; but what the Deuce is the Matter yonder?
Foxchase. There's a Mob got together—