[...] Strange to say, the only badly drawn character is Foigard, the unscrupulous Irish Jesuit priest. Farquhar is fond of introducing an Irishman into each of his plays, but I cannot say that I think he is generally successful; certainly not in this instance. They are mostly broad caricatures, and speak an outlandish jargon, more like Welsh than Irish, supposed to be the Ulster dialect: anything more unlike it would be difficult to conceive.
 The early conventional stage Irishman, tracing him from Captain. Macmorris in Henry V.,through Ben Jonson’s Irish Masque and New Inn, Dekker’s Bryan, Ford’s Mayor of Cork, Shadwell’s O’Divelly (probably Farquhar's model for Foigard), is truly a wondrous savage, chiefly distinguished by his use of the expletives “Dear Joy!” and “By Creesh!” This character naturally rendered the play somewhat unpopular in Ireland, and its repulsiveness is unrelieved (as it is in the case of Teague in The Twin Rivals) by a single touch of humour or native comicality. It is an outrage. (pp.x-xi.)

Act. I
Boniface: I don’t know how, sir; she would not let the ale take its natural course, sir; she was for qualifying it every now and then with a dram, as the saying is; and an honest gentleman that came this way from Ireland, made her a present of a dozen bottles of usquebaugh - but the poor woman was never well after: but, howe’er, I was obliged to the gentleman, you know.

Act. II
Gibbet: Ah! poor woman! I pitied her; - from a poor lady just eloped from her husband. She had made up her cargo, and was bound for Ireland, as hard as she could drive; she told me of her husband’s barbarous usage, and so I left her half-a-crown. But I had almost forgot, my dear Cherry, I have a present for you.

Act III
Foigard: Save you, gentlemens, bote.
Aimwell: [Aside.] A Frenchman! [To Foigard.] Sir, your most humble servant.
Foigard: Och, dear joy, I am your most faithful shervant, and yours alsho.
Gibbet: Doctor, you talk very good English, but you have a mighty twang of the foreigner.
Foigard: My English is very veil for the vords, but we foreigners, you know, cannot bring our tongues about the pronunciation so soon.
Aimwell: [Aside.] A foreigner! a downright Teague, by this light! [Aloud.] Were you born in France, doctor?

Act IV
Foigard [to Gipsy]: Dat is according as you shall tauk it. If you receive the money beforehand, ’twill be logice, a bribe; but if you stay till afterwards, ’twill be only a gratification.
Gipsy: Well, doctor, I’ll take it logice. But what must I do with my conscience, sir?
Foigard: Leave dat wid me, joy; I am your priest, gra; and your conscience is under my hands.

[...]

Aimwell: O sir, your servant! Pray, doctor, may I crave your name?
Foigard: Fat naam is upon me? My naam is Foigard, joy.
Aimwell: Foigard! a very good name for a clergyman. Pray, Doctor Foigard, were you ever in Ireland?
Foigard: Ireland! no, joy. Fat sort of plaace is dat saam Ireland? Dey say de people are catched dere when dey are young.
Aimwell: And some of ’em when they are old: - as for example. - [Takes Foigard by the shoulder.] Sir, I arrest you as a traitor against the government; you’re a subject of England, and this morning showed me a commission, by which you served as chaplain in the French army. This is death by our law, and your reverence must hang for it.
Foigard: Upon my shoul, noble friend, dis is strange news you tell me! Fader Foigard a subject of England! de son of a burgomaster of Brussels, a subject of England! Ubooboo ...
Aimwell: The son of a bog-trotter in Ireland! Sir, your tongue will condemn you before any bench in the kingdom.
Foigard: And is my tongue all your evidensh, joy?
Aimwell: That’s enough.
Foigard: No, no, joy, for I vill never spake English no more.
Aimwell: Sir, I have other evidence. - Here, Martin!