SGAN. (_Thinking himself alone_). They thought her dead, but it was
nothing at all! She is already recovering and nearly well again. But I
see my wife.
SGAN.'S WIFE. (_Thinking herself alone_). O Heaven! It is a
miniature, a fine picture of a handsome man.
SGAN. (_Aside, and looking over his wife's shoulder_). What is this
she looks at so closely? This picture bodes my honour little good. A
very ugly feeling of jealousy begins to creep over me.
SGAN.'S WIFE. (_Not seeing her husband_). I never saw anything more
beautiful in my life! The workmanship is even of greater value than the
gold! Oh, how sweet it smells!
SGAN. (_Aside_). The deuce! She kisses it! I am victimized!
SGAN.'S WIFE. (_Continues her Monologue_.) I think it must be a
charming thing to have such a fine-looking man for a sweetheart; if he
should urge his suit very much the temptation would be great. Alas! why
have I not a handsome man like this for my husband instead of my booby,
my clod-hopper...?
SGAN. (_Snatching the portrait from her_). What, hussey! have I
caught you in the very act, slandering your honourable and darling
husband? According to you, most worthy spouse, and everything well
considered, the husband is not as good as the wife? In Beelzebub's name
(and may he fly away with you), what better match could you wish for?
Is there any fault to be found with me? It seems that this shape, this
air, which everybody admires; this face, so fit to inspire love, for
which a thousand fair ones sigh both night and day; in a word, my own
delightful self, by no manner of means pleases you. Moreover, to satisfy
your ravenous appetite you add to the husband the relish of a gallant.
SGAN.'S WIFE. I see plainly the drift of your jocular remarks, though
you do not clearly express yourself. You expect by these means...
SGAN. Try to impose upon others, not upon me, I pray you. The fact
is evident; I have in my hands a convincing proof of the injury I
complain of.
SGAN.'S WIFE. I am already too angry, and do not wish you to make me
more so by any fresh insult. Hark ye, do not imagine that you shall keep
this pretty thing; consider...
SGAN. I am seriously considering whether I shall break your neck.
I wish I had but the original of this portrait in my power as much
as I have the copy.
SGAN.'S WIFE. Why?
SGAN. For nothing at all, dear, sweet object of my love! I am very wrong
to speak out; my forehead ought to thank you for many favours received.
(_Looking at the portrait of Lelio_). There he is, your darling,
the pretty bed-fellow, the wicked incentive of your secret flame, the
merry blade with whom...
SGAN.'S WIFE. With whom? Go on.
SGAN. With whom, I say... I am almost bursting with vexation.
[Footnote: The original has: "_j'en creve d'ennuis_." The French
word _ennui_, which now only means weariness of mind, signified
formerly injury, and the vexation or hatred caused thereby; something
like the English word "annoy," as in Shakespeare's Richard III., v. 3:
"Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy;
Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy."]
SGAN.'S WIFE. What does the drunken sot mean by all this?
SGAN. You know but too well, Mrs. Impudence. No one will call me any
longer Sganarelle, but every one will give me the title of Signor
Cornutus; my honor is gone, but to reward you, who took it from me, I
shall at the very least break you an arm or a couple of ribs.
SGAN.'S WIFE. How dare you talk to me thus?
SGAN. How dare you play me these devilish pranks?
SGAN.'S WIFE. What devilish pranks? Say what you mean.
SGAN. Oh! It is not worth complaining of. A stag's top-knot on my head
is indeed a very pretty ornament for everybody to come and look at.
SGAN.'S WIFE. After you have insulted your wife so grossly as to excite
her thirst for vengeance, you stupidly imagine you can prevent the
effects of it by pretending to be angry? Such insolence was never before
known on the like occasion. The offender is the person who begins the
quarrel.
SGAN. Oh! what a shameless creature! To see the confident behaviour of
this woman, would not any one suppose her to be very virtuous?
SGAN.'S WIFE. Away, go about your business, wheedle your mistresses,
tell them you love them, caress them even, but give me back my picture,
and do not make a jest of me. (_She snatches the picture from him and
runs away_).
SGAN. So you think to escape me; but I shall get hold of it again in
spite of you.