MR. JOUR. What are you laughing at?
NIC. Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi.
MR. JOUR. What does the hussy mean?
NIC. Hi, hi, hi. What a figure you cut! Hi, hi, hi.
MR. JOUR. Eh? What?
NIC. Ah! ah! my goodness! Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi.
MR. JOUR. What an impertinent jade! Are you laughing at me?
NIC. Oh no, Sir. I should be very sorry to do so. Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi.
MR. JOUR. I"ll slap your face if you laugh again.
NIC. I can"t help it, Sir. Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi.
MR. JOUR. Will you leave off?
NIC. Sir; I beg your pardon, Sir; but you are so very comical that I can"t help laughing. Hi, hi, hi.
MR. JOUR. Did you ever see such impudence?
NIC. You are so odd like that. Hi, hi.
MR. JOUR. I"ll....
NIC. I beg of you to excuse me. Hi, hi, hi, hi.
MR. JOUR. Look here, if you laugh again ever so little, I swear I will give you a box on the ears such as you never had before in all your life.
NIC. Well, Sir, I have done. I won"t laugh any more.
MR. JOUR. Mind you don"t. You must for this afternoon clean....
NIC. Hi, hi.
MR. JOUR. You must clean thoroughly....
NIC. Hi, hi.
MR. JOUR. You must, I say, clean the drawing-room, and....
NIC. Hi, hi.
MR. JOUR. Again?
NIC. (_tumbling down with laughing_). There, Sir, beat me rather, but let me laugh to my heart"s content. I am sure it will be better for me. Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi.
MR. JOUR. I am boiling with rage.
NIC. For pity"s sake, Sir, let me laugh. Hi, hi, hi.
MR. JOUR. If I begin....
NIC. Si-r-r, I shall bur-r-st if I d-don"t laugh. Hi, hi, hi.
MR. JOUR. But did you ever see such a hussy? She comes and laughs at me to my face, instead of attending to my orders.
NIC. What is it you wish me to do, Sir.
MR. JOUR. I want you to get this house ready for the company which is to come here by and by.
NIC. (_getting up_). Ah, well! All my wish to laugh is gone now; your company brings such disorder here that what you say is quite sufficient to put me out of temper.
MR. JOUR. I suppose that, to please you, I ought to shut my door against everybody?
NIC. Anyhow, you would do just as well to shut it against certain people, Sir.
SCENE III.--MRS. JOURDAIN, MR. JOURDAIN, NICOLE, TWO SERVANTS.
MRS. JOUR. Ah me! Here is some new vexation! Why, husband, what do you possibly mean by this strange get-up? Have you lost your senses that you go and deck yourself out like this, and do you wish to be the laughing-stock of everybody wherever you go?
MR. JOUR. Let me tell you, my good wife, that no one but a fool will laugh at me.
MRS. JOUR. No one has waited until to-day for that; and it is now some time since your ways of going on have been the amus.e.m.e.nt of everybody.
MR. JOUR. And who may everybody be, please?
MRS. JOUR. Everybody is a body who is in the right, and who has more sense than you. For my part, I am quite shocked at the life you lead.
I don"t know our home again. One would think, by what goes on, that it was one everlasting carnival here; and as soon as day breaks, for fear we should have any rest in it, we have a regular din of fiddles and singers, that are a positive nuisance to all the neighbourhood.
NIC. What mistress says is quite right. There is no longer any chance of having the house clean with all that heap of people you bring in.
Their feet seem to have gone purposely to pick up the mud in the four quarters of the town in order to bring it in here afterwards; and poor Francoise is almost off her legs with the constant scrubbing of the floors, which your masters come and dirty every day as regular as clockwork.
MR. JOUR. I say there, our servant Nicole; you have a pretty sharp tongue of your own for a country wench.
MRS. JOUR. Nicole is right, and she has more sense by far than you have. I should like to know, for instance, what you mean to do with a dancing master at your age?
NIC. And with that big fencing master, who comes here stamping enough to shake the whole house down and to tear up the floor tiles of our rooms.
MR. JOUR. Gently, my servant and my wife.
MRS. JOUR. Do you mean to learn dancing for the time when you can"t stand on your legs any longer?