Sbri. What is the matter, Sir? what ails you?
Mr. Pour. Everything I see seems injection.
Sbri. How is that?
Mr. Pour. You can't think what has happened to me in that house where you took me.
Sbri. No! What has happened?
Mr. Pour. I thought I should be well feasted there.
Sbri. Well?
Mr. Pour. I leave you in this gentleman's hands. Doctors dressed in black. In a chair. Feel the pulse. In proof of what I say. He is mad. Two big, fat-faced fellows, with large-brimmed hats. Buon dì, buon dì. Six pantaloons. Ta, ra, ta, toi, ta, ra, ta, ta, toi. Allegramente, Monsu Pourceaugnac. Take, Sir; take, take. It is gentle, gentle, gentle. Piglialo sù, Signor Monsu; piglialo, piglialo sù. I never was so surfeited with absurdities in all my life.
Sbri. What does it all mean?
Mr. Pour. It means, Sir, that this gentleman, with all his kissing and hugging, is a deceitful rascal, who has sent me to that house to play me some trick.