Abbé. Ah! Pour ça oui—I have given him notion how to live, I have teach him a tousand leetle agrements—and den I have make him widout Prejudices—qu'il na pas de prejugé.
Florid. There Monsieur l'Abbé, I have been chiefly Instrumental—I have exploded all his former Notions made him acquainted with Plastic Nature and have wandered with him in academic Groves.
(Enter JACK BROUGHTON)
Jack. Jarnie! Ventribleu! Que la preste m'etouffe—never tell me Man—furies! Death and Rage! What! All my things siez'd upon at the Custom House. I shall make my address to the Comptroller of the Finances or the Fermiers Generaux—I'll commence a Procés Verbal—Florid, did you ever hear of such a thing? Monsieur Abbé ayez pitié de moi—my Embroideries, my Laces, my Silks, my Pompons for the Ladies, all siez'd by the unmannerly Brutes—
Abbé. You call dis Liberty and Property, I tink in dis country.
Jack. Liberty and Property! Robbery and Arbitrary Powers to strip a Gentleman at this rate! But rot 'em, they have been making Piracies upon us for several Months past.
Abbé. Mais, ne vous derangez pas, Monsieur.
Jack. Non, mon cher Abbé Millamour—I'll not derange myself about it.
Abbé. Ecoutez mon cher Enfant—you must be toujours gai; and if par hazard, you are met en colère you must swear wid an air—que la peste m'etouffe—ça ne vaut rien. But I give you a Book of Oats made by a Swiss Officer, improve by an English Captain of Marine and finish by a Gascon Abbé, who lose all his Money at Trick-track.
Jack. Mon cher Abbé, you are too good.