NIC. Do you intend to kill anybody?
MR. JOUR. Hold your tongues, I say. You are only ignorant women, both of you, and understand nothing concerning the prerogative of all this.
MRS. JOUR. You would do much better to think of seeing your daughter married, for she is now of an age to be provided for.
MR. JOUR. I shall think of seeing my daughter married when a suitable match presents itself; but, in the meantime, I wish to think of acquiring fine learning.
NIC. I have heard say also, mistress, that, to go the whole hog, he has now taken a professor of philosophy.
MR. JOUR. To be sure I have. I wish to be clever, and reason concerning things with people of quality.
MRS. JOUR. Had you not better go to school one of these days, and get the birch, at your age?
MR. JOUR. Why not? Would to heaven I were flogged this very instant, before all the world, so that I might know all they learn at school.
NIC. Yes, to be sure; that would much improve the shape of your leg.
MR. JOUR. Of course.
MRS. JOUR. And all this is very necessary for the management of your house.
MR. JOUR. Certainly. You both speak like a.s.ses; and I am ashamed of your ignorance. (_To_ MRS. JOURDAIN) Let me see, for instance, if you know what you are speaking this very moment.
MRS. JOUR. Yes, I know that what I speak is rightly spoken; and that you should think of leading a different life.
MR. JOUR. I do not mean that. I ask you what the words are which you are now speaking.
MRS. JOUR. They are sensible words, I tell you, and that is more than your conduct is.
MR. JOUR. I am not speaking of that. I ask you what it is that I am now saying to you. That which I am now speaking to you, what is it?
MRS. JOUR. Rubbish.
MR. JOUR. No! no! I don"t mean that. What we both speak; the language we are speaking this very moment.
MRS. JOUR. Well?
MR. JOUR. How is it called?
MRS. JOUR. It is called whatever you like to call it.
MR. JOUR. It is prose, you ignorant woman.
MRS. JOUR. Prose?
MR. JOUR. Whatever is prose is not verse, and whatever is not verse is prose. There! you see what it is to study. (_To_ NICOLE) And you, do you even know what you must do to say _u_?
NIC. Eh? What?
MR. JOUR. Yes; what do you do when you say _u_?
NIC. What I do?
MR. JOUR. Say _u_ a little to try.
NIC. Well, _u_.
MR. JOUR. What is it you do?
NIC. I say _u_.
MR. JOUR. Yes; but when you say _u_, what is it you do?
NIC. I do what you ask me to do.
MR. JOUR. Oh! What a strange thing it is to have to do with dunces!
You pout your lips outwards, and bring your upper jaw near your lower jaw like this, _u_; I make a face; _u_. Do you see?
NIC. Yes, that"s beautiful.
MRS. JOUR. It"s admirable!
MR. JOUR. What would you say then if you had seen _o_, and _da, da_, and _fa, fa_?
MRS. JOUR. What is all this absurd stuff?
NIC. And what are we the better for all this?
MR. JOUR. I have no patience with such ignorant women.
MRS. JOUR. Believe me, pack off all those people with their ridiculous fooleries.
NIC. And particularly that great scraggy fencing master, who fills the whole place with dust.
MR. JOUR. Goodness me! The fencing master seems to set your teeth on edge. Come here, and I will show you at once your senseless impertinence. (_He asks for two foils, and gives one to_ NICOLE.) Here, reason demonstrative the line of the body. When you thrust in quart, you have only to do so; and, when you thrust in tierce, only to do so! That is the way never to be killed; and is it not a fine thing to be quite safe when one fights against anybody? There, thrust at me a little to try.
NIC. Well, what? (NICOLE _gives him several thrusts_)
MR. JOUR. Gently! Hold! Oh! Softly. Deuce take the wench!
NIC: You tell me to thrust at you.
MR. JOUR. Yes; but you thrust in tierce before thrusting at me in quart, and you haven"t the patience to wait till I parry.
MRS. JOUR. You are crazy, husband, with all your fads; and this has come upon you since you have taken it into your head to frequent the gentlefolk.
MR. JOUR. By frequenting the gentlefolk I show my judgment. It is surely better than keeping company with your citizens.