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?) 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.) 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.

Lady Betty Mockmode Monologue from The Englishman from Paris

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