SCENE II.—The French House.—A table, bottles, and candles.
Enter Mr. Gerrard, Martin, and Monsieur de Paris.
Mons. 'Tis ver veritable, jarni! what the French say of you Englis: you use the debauch so much, it cannot have with you the French operation; you are never enjoyee. But come, let us for once be infiniment gaillard, and sing a French sonnet. [Sings,—"La bouteille, la bouteille, glou, glou."
Mar. [To Gerrard.] What a melodious fop it is!
Mons. Auh! you have no complaisance.
Ger. No, we can't sing; but we'll drink to you the lady's health, whom (you say) I have so long courted at her window.
Mons. Ay, there is your complaisance: all your Englis complaisance is pledging complaisance, ventre!—But if I do you reason here, [Takes the glass.]—will you do me reason to a little French chanson à boire I shall begin to you?—[Sings.] "La bouteille, la bouteille—"
Mar. [To Gerrard.] I had rather keep company with a set of wide-mouthed, drunken cathedral choristers.
Ger. Come, sir, drink; and he shall do you reason to your French song, since you stand upon't.—Sing him "Arthur of Bradley," or "I am the Duke of Norfolk."