Gip. What would you have me do, doctor?
Foig. Nothing, joy, but only hide the count in Mrs. Sullen's closet, when it is dark.
Gip. Nothing! Is that nothing? it would be both a sin and a shame, doctor.
Foig. Here is twenty Louis d'ors, joy, for your shame; and I will give you an absolution for the shin.
Gip. But won't that money look like a bribe?
Foig. Dat is according as you shall take it—If you receive the money before hand, 'twill be logicè, a bribe; but if you stay till afterwards, 'twill be only a gratification.
Gip. Well, doctor, I'll take it logicè——But what must I do with my conscience, sir?
Foig. Leave dat wid me, joy; I am your priest, gra; and your conscience is under my hands.
Gip. But should I put the count into the closet—
Foig. Vell, is dere any shin for a man's being in a closhet? one may go to prayers in a closhet.