Flirt. Must we drink the scullion's health?
Mons. Auh, you will not be désobligeante, madam; he is the cuisinier for a king, nay, for a cardinal or French abbot. [Drinks. Exit Scullion.
Flou. But how shall we divertise ourselves till supper be ready?
Flirt. Can we have better divertissement than this gentleman?
Flou. But I think we had better carry the gentleman home with us, and because it is already late, sup at home, and divertise the gentleman at cards, till it be ready.—D'ye hear, waiter? let it be brought, when 'tis ready, to my lodging hard by, in Mustard-Alley, at the sign of the Crooked-billet.
Mons. At the Crooked-billet!
Flirt. Come, sir, come.
Mons. Morbleu! I have take the vow (since my last clap) never to go again to the bourdel.
Flou. What is the bourdel?