_Sir Robert._ Gentlemen never mind him, let's make an End of our Bottle.

I am afraid Mr. Quicksett is in the right. (_Follows_)

_Abbe._ (_Sings_)

Boire a long trait De ce vin frais Et ne jamais quitter la Table, Que pour Dancer Rire a Chanter C'est se jouir d'un sort delectable.

(_Exeunt_)

(_Scene another Apartment. Enter_ LADY BETTY _and_ HARRIET)

_Lady Betty._ Well, but my dear Harriet, I a.s.sure you.

_Harriet._ Nay, but Ma'am, how can your Ladyship say so?

_Lady Betty._ Surely Madamoiselle Harriet you'll give me leave to know better than one who has never been beyond the Dust and Smoke of melancholy London.

_Harriet._ Well, I protest and now I can scarcely refrain from laughing at the Conceit of it.

_Lady Betty._ The Conceit!

_Harriet._ Dear Ma'am, your Ladyship can't be in earnest, sure, there's no Mystery--

_Lady Betty._ No Mystery--but I tell you there's a Je ne sais quoi--

_Harriet._ Dear Ma'am, I hope your Ladyship won't be in a pa.s.sion about it.

_Lady Betty._ Is it not enough to provoke anybody to be contradicted in a thing that a person has voyag'd for? But I tell you Madam, not one in a thousand of the English know how to blow the Nose--it's a thing not understood in this country.

_Harriet._ With all my Heart, Ma'am, if you will have it so.

_Lady Betty._ It's very true though--the people of this Country don't know how to blow the Nose--or to walk, or to sit down, or to rise up, or to cough, or to spit, or to sneeze--now let me hear you sneeze.

_Harriet._ I wou'd oblige you Ma'am with such a thing, if I possibly cou'd.

_Lady Betty._ Oh, you can't then, here, take a pinch of snuff to provoke a Sneeze. (_Gives snuff_)

_Harriet._ I have no Objection to a pinch of snuff, Ma'am. (_Takes snuff_)

_Lady Betty._ Look ye there, now, that's not the way to take Snuff. The thing does not consist in stuffing it up the Nostrils, as if you were gormandizing upon it--with your Arm lifted up, and your Head shrunk down, just as if you were frighten'd at something--but it must be introduced as a grace to Conversation. Now observe me--I make the most of my Person--hold my Head up with an air. Then suppose me in the middle of a story about an Amour, or the French Court, or a new fashion, or what you will--then I open my Snuff-box, then look at myself in the gla.s.s, and reclaim a straggling Hair--then I proceed. I wave my Arm out to its full length, then I gradually bring it to, forming a graceful Semicircle, and never move my head towards my hand--thus (_Mimicks_) but I make my hand pay its devoirs to my head--thus. (_Mimicks_) Then I apply my fingers with the utmost delicatesse--and I smile--I smile and look as if I were thinking--and then I don't souse my hand down at once, thus--(_Mimicks_) but I restore it to its place in the same graceful manner--thus--you see now the Semicircle opens. Then with an elegant turn of my wrist, I drop my Arm in a gentle dying--dying fall.

_Harriet._ Well now as I live and breathe, my Lady Betty I never cou'd have thought there was so much Consequence in a Trifle.

_Lady Betty._ Trifle! Trifles are the most important things in Life. The Beau Monde is made up of Trifles--Paris is made up of Trifles--I am made up of Trifles--the French are all Trifles, and so vive la Bagatelle. But my dear Madamoiselle Harriet you're a perfect corpse child, let me put on a little Rouge--no, I have none about me; and then your Cap (_Takes off a very small one_)--fie, done, it's large enough for a Soapboiler's Wife--here let me put this Bouquet in your Hair. There, now you have Cap enough--the Creature looked odiously handsome before--I cou'd not bear it.

_Harriet._ Dear Ma'am, but I'm afraid I shall take cold.

_Lady Betty._ Cold! What then? If you do, you'll be in the fashion. But I a.s.sure you, child, you must voyage, indeed, and 'till you do, I lend you one of my faces to keep you in Countenance.

_Harriet._ Ma'am I am very much oblig'd to you, but Heav'n has given me a face.

_Lady Betty._ Heav'n has given you a face! He! He! He! Well to be sure that notion is downright Insulaire, fit only for an Island--the Sentiments of the Continent, I a.s.sure you my dear are much sublimer.

Heav'n has given you a face--but I'll give you a better face, you shall have one of mine--how do you like this face? It has been generally taken notice of. They may talk what they will of their great Painters--my brush exceeds 'em all--the Coloring is so mellow, and so rich and so glowing--

_Harriet._ Ma'am as for your coloring, n.o.body can dispute it--but don't your Ladyship think a great Painter can draw a little more like the life?

_Lady Betty._ Like the life! That's a cold northern Sentiment again--why can't you see that if it were like the life one might soon become an old face? Now I like to be a new face every day--then the men cry, what a deal of sweetness my Lady Betty has in her face--ay, and what a deal of fire--and what a deal of meaning--and what a--and what a Je ne sais quoi! But I shall lay aside this face soon, and you shall have the preference of it.

_Harriet._ Dear Ma'am, I wou'd not rob your Ladyship on any Account.

_Lady Betty._ Oh you'll not derob me at all, and then I'll let you have a Copy of my Receipt how to be a fine Lady, it was made in Paris upon the most minute observation. I was a.s.sisted in it by Monsieur Capriole my dancing Master, Madam D'Epingle my Milliner, La Jeuness my hair dresser, and Fanchonette my waiting Maid.

_Harriet._ Dear Ma'am, let me have it of all things--it must needs be a curiosity.

_Lady Betty._ I believe I have it in my Pocket--here it is--I'll read it to you. "Take a score of French Phrases, everyday, bien tournees, and mix 'em well together to qualify the Barbarity of the English. Be sure to have a thorough contempt for the Milliners and the Tradesfolk of your own country. Be sure never to visit with your Husband, if you have a mind to be happy with him, don't see the horrid creature above one in a quarter."

_Harriet._ I suppose your Ladyship means as Falstaff says in a quarter of an hour.

_Lady Betty._ Well, by all that's pleasant, I shall never survive that.

No child, once in a quarter of a year is enough to see the domestic Animal, to get one's pin-money of him--or to make him mortgage--or sell--or anything to pay one's gaming Debts. But I'll go on. "Be sure to have a Douceur and a fierte ready to command in the Countenance." Now if one of these Insulaires--one of these Island People shou'd come within the Hemisphere of my Hoop there's my fierte--and if one meets with anything that has voyaged, that has depatriated as the Clive calls it in the Play--there's my Douceur--but don't interrupt. "Be sure never to be happy if anybody of your acquaintance keeps more Card Tables than yourself--"

_Harriet._ Is that an Essential to Happiness Ma'am?

_Lady Betty._ a.s.surement Ma'am'selle. A fine Lady can never sleep in her Bed if anybody that she has a regard for keeps more Card Tables than herself. There was my Lady f.a.n.n.y Brilliant, and I, vying about it for a whole half year--first she had twenty--then I had five more--then she kept Sundays then I kept Sundays--then she had thirty--then I had forty--then she added, then I added--then she--then I--then she again--then I again--'till at last, there was not a Hole or corner in the House but was cramm'd--and you'd think the front of the House wou'd come down, with all the Men's backs lolling out of the Window. I was oblig'd to play in my Bed-chamber in the Servant's Hall--everywhere--and if she had urg'd me further I should have had a Tent in the Courtyard, and on the leads of the House, but upon casting up the Accounts, I had the Majority by seven--and I lost a cool fifteen hundred more than her.

(_Enter_ JACK BROUGHTON)

_Jack._ Mesdames, votre tres humble--I have made my Escape from the Savages below--I believe they are following me--no--a la mode d'Angleterre to make an end of their Bottle.

_Lady Betty._ And mon cher Cavalier, you are come most a propos to decide a dispute between Miss Harriet and me. Is it not true what Moliere says, there is no happiness out of Paris?

_Jack._ Madam, hors de Paris, il n'y a pas de salut. The French to be sure, are the dearest creatures in the World. Under an absolute Monarch, you'll see them dance, and sing, and laugh, and ogle, and dress, and display their pretty little small talk--while an English John Trott, with his head full of Politics, shall knit his brow, and grumble, and plod, unhappy and discontented amidst all his boasted Liberty and Pudding.

_Lady Betty._ Then the French Ladies, what lives they lead! The Husband makes it the Business of his life to ruin himself for his Wife's diversions. They keep separate chariots as well as separate Beds. She is sure to have the handsomest fellows for her Laqueys--they are all sur le bon Ton. And then the pleasures of the agreeable Billet-doux, and dear enchanting Quadrille.

_Jack._ Oh my Lady Betty! The Joys of a life of Play are inexpressible--it leads a Person into the politest company, actuates the Spirits with the sweetest Vicissitudes of Pa.s.sions--hope and fear, Pleasure and Anxiety, running an eternal Round.

_Lady Betty._ There Madamoiselle Harriet, there's a life for you, but dear Heart, I must run away, this is Opera Night.

_Harriet._ Is your Ladyship very fond of Operas?

_Lady Betty._ Do you think Ma'am, I am like your English people of Quality, that go only because everybody goes--I'm a very Lady Townly for Operas--I expire at an Opera! Oh that enchanting air. (_Sings_)

_Harriet._ Don't you think a good Play has something more rational and more natural than an Opera?

_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?