VAL. I agree to the arrangement.
SGAN. And so do I, with all my heart. (_Aside_). We will have a
good laugh presently. (_Aloud)_. There, brother, sign; yours the
honour to sign first.
AR. But why all this mystery...
SGAN. The deuce! what hesitation. Sign, you simpleton.
AR. He talks of Isabella, and you of L?onor.
SGAN. Are you not agreed, brother, if it be she, to leave them to their
mutual promises?
AR. Doubtless.
SGAN. Sign, then; I shall do the same.
AR. So be it. I understand nothing about it.
SGAN. You shall be enlightened.
MAG. We will soon return.
(_Exeunt Magistrate and Notary into Vale?re's house_).
SGAN. (_To Ariste_). Now, then, I will give you a cue to this
intrigue. (_They retire to the back of the stage_).
SCENE IX.--L?ONOR, SGANARELLE, ARISTE, LISETTE.
LEO. Ah, what a strange martyrdom! What bores all those young fools
appear to me! I have stolen away from the ball, on account of them.
LIS. Each of them tried to make himself agreeable to you.
LEO. And I never endured anything more intolerable. I should prefer the
simplest conversation to all the babblings of these say-nothings.
[Footnote: The original has _contes bleus_, literally "blue
stories" because old tales, such as _The Four Sons of Aymon,
Fortunatus, Valentine and Orson_ were formerly sold, printed on
coarse paper and with blue paper cover; a kind of popular, but not
political, "blue-books."]
They fancy that everything must give way before their flaxen wigs, and
think they have said the cleverest witticism when they come up, with
their silly chaffing tone, and rally you stupidly about the love of an
old man.
Pages:
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60