Fontainbleau; a comic opera. In three acts

by John O'Keeffe

Henry. Why, then you——

Lap. Oui, I ran avay. Ah, monsieur! in England, I vas high, and I vas low—I vas dit, and I vas dat:—I vas cook, parfumeur, maitre de langue, juggle, and toos drawer—in short I vas every ting.

Henry. And pray, my good friend, what are you now?

Lap. I am now myself, in my true charactere—A tailor, à votre service.

Henry. A tailor! what, and come here to the races of Fontainbleau, to sport your Louis d'ors upon the jockeys of France?

Lap. Non, monsieur, but I am come here to sport de pretty jacket upon de jockeys of France. Ah! I vill show so fine de green jockey, de blue jockey, and de red jockey!—dey may talk of vip and spur, but de beauty of de race come from my shear and timble.

Henry. Pray, which is your best hotel here?

Lap. Hotel! Ah, monsieur, vy no lodge in my house? So convenient for de single gentilhomme!—[Aside.] I will not tell him of de lady, my lodger, because I love her myself.

Henry. Well, I don't know but private lodgings, at this time, may be preferable to the noise and bustle of an hotel.

Lap. Eh bien, monsieur, vill you look at my lodgment?