Flirt. Nay, sir, you have too much of the French air, to have so little honour and good breeding. [Pulling him back.
Mons. Dee you tinke so then, sweet madam, I have mush of de French eyre?
Flirt. More than any Frenchman breathing.
Mons. Auh, you are the curtoise dame; morbleu! I shall stay then, if you think so. Monsieur Gerrard, you will be certain to see the lady to-morrow? pray not forget, ha! ha! ha!
Ger. No, no, sir.
Mar. You will go then?
Ger. I will go on a fool's errand for once. [Exeunt Gerrard and Martin.
Flou. What will you eat, sir?
Mons. Wat you please, madam.
Flou. D'ye hear, waiter? then some young partridge.