VAL. He?
POL. Do not deceive yourself; you do not yet know what a strange fellow Ascanio is.
ALB. He is blind to it now, but Ascanio will let him know in a little time.
VAL. Come on, then; let him do so now.
MAR. What! before everybody?
GR.-RE. That would not be decent.
VAL. Are you making fun of me? I will break the head of any fellow who laughs. But let us see what Ascanio is going to do.
ASC. No, no. I am not so bad as they make me out; in this adventure, in which every one has put me forward, you shall see my weakness appear more than anything else; you will discover that Heaven, to which we must all submit, did not give me a heart to hold out against you, but that it reserved for you the easy triumph of putting an end to Lucile"s brother.
Yes; far from boasting of the power of his arm, Ascanio shall receive death from your hands; nay, would gladly die, if his death could contribute to your satisfaction, by giving you, in the presence of all this company, a wife who lawfully belongs to you.
VAL. No, even the whole world, after her perfidy and shamelessness...
ASC. Ah! Valere, allow me to tell you that the heart which is pledged to you is guilty of no crime against you; her love is still pure, and her constancy unshaken; I call your own father himself to witness that I speak the truth.
POL. Yes, son, we have laughed enough at your rage; I see it is time to undeceive you; she to whom you are bound by oath is concealed under the dress you here behold. Some question about property was the cause of this disguise, which from her earliest youth deceived so many people.
Lately love was the cause of another which deceived you, whilst it made of the two families but one. Yes, in a word, it is she whose subtle skill obtained your hand at night, who pretended to be Lucile, and by this contrivance, which none discovered, has perplexed you all so much.
But since Ascanio now gives place to Dorothea, your love must be free from every appearance of deceit, and be strengthened by a more sacred knot!
ALB. This is the single combat by which you were to give us satisfaction for your offence, and which is not forbidden by any laws.
[Footnote: Severe laws were promulgated in the preceding reign against duelling; Louis XIV. also published two edicts against it in 1643 and in 1651. _The Love-Tiff_ was first performed in 1656.]
POL. Such an event amazes you, but all hesitation is now too late.
VAL. No, no, I do not hesitate; if this adventure astonishes me, it is a flattering surprise; I find myself seized with admiration, love, and pleasure. Is it possible that those eyes...?
ALB. This dress, dear Valere, is not a proper one to hear your fine speeches in. Let her go and put on another, and meanwhile you shall know the particulars of the event.
VAL. Pardon me, Lucile, if my mind, duped by...
LUC. It is easy to forget that.
ALB. Come, these compliments will do as well at home; we shall then have plenty of time to pay them to one another.
ERAS. But in talking thus you do not seem to think that there is still occasion for manslaughter here. Our loves are indeed crowned, but who ought to obtain the hand of Marinette, his Mascarille or my Gros-Rene?
This affair must end in blood.
MASC. No, no, my blood suits my body too well; let him marry her in peace, it will be nothing to me. I know Marinette too well to think marriage will be any bar to my courting her.
MAR. And do you think I will make my gallant of you? A husband does not matter; anything will do for that. We do not stand, then, upon so much ceremony; but a gallant should be well made enough to make one"s mouth water.
GR.-RE. Listen! When we are united by marriage, I insist that you should turn a deaf ear to all sparks.
MASC. Do you think, brother, to marry her for yourself alone?
GR.-RE. Of course; I will have a virtuous wife, or else I shall kick up a fine row.
MASC. Ah! lack-a-day, you shall do as others, and become more gentle.
Those people who are so severe and critical before marriage, often degenerate into pacific husbands.
MAR. Make yourself easy, my dear husband, and do not have the least fear about my fidelity; flattery will produce no impression on me, and I shall tell you everything.
MASC. Oh! what a cunning wench to make of a husband a confidant.
MAR. Hold your tongue, you knave of clubs.
[Footnote: The original has _as de pique_, and different commentators have of course given various explanations. But why, says M.
Despois, should Marinette, who appears to be fond of cards, not call people by names derived from her favourite game? She calls Gros-Rene in another place _beau valet de carreau_.]
ALB. For the third time, I say, let us go home, and continue at leisure such an agreeable conversation.