CRIQUET.
COUN. Come here, Mr. Thibaudier; do not be afraid of coming in. Your
note was well received, and so were your pears; and there is a lady
here who takes your part against your rival.
THI. I am much obliged to her, Madam, and if ever she has a lawsuit in
our court, she may be sure that I shall not forget the honour she does
me in making herself the advocate of my flame near your beauty.
JU. You have no need of an advocate, Sir, and your cause has justice
on its side.
THI. This, nevertheless. Madam, the right has need of help, and I have
reason to apprehend the being supplanted by such a rival, and the
beguiling of the lady by the rank of the viscount.
VISC. I had hopes before your note came, Sir, but now, I confess fears
for my love.
THI. Here are likewise a few little couplets which I have composed to
your honour and glory, Madam.
VISC. Ah! I had no idea that Mr. Thibaudier was a poet; these few
little couplets will be my ruin.
COUN. He means two strophes. (_To_ CRIQUET) Page, give a seat to Mr.
Thibaudier. (_Aside to_ CRIQUET, _who brings a chair_) A
folding-chair, little animal![5] Mr. Thibaudier, sit down there, and
read your strophes to us.
THI. (_reads_).
"A person of quality
Is my fair dame;
She has got beauty,
Fierce is my flame;
Yet I must blame
Her pride and cruelty."
VISC. I am lost after that.
COUN. The first line is excellent: "A person of quality."
JU. I think it is a little too long; but a liberty may be taken to
express a noble thought.
COUN. (_to_ MR. THIBAUDIER). Let us have the other.
THI. (_reads_).
"I know not if you doubt that my love be sincere,
Yet this I know, that my heart every moment
Longs to leave its sorry apartment
To visit yours, with fond respect and fear.
After all this, having my love in hand,
And my honour, of superfine brand,
You ought, in turn, I say,
Content to be a countess gay,
To cast that tigress' skin away,
Which hides your charms both night and day."
VISC. I am undone by Mr. Thibaudier.
COUN. Do not make fun of it; for the verses are good although they are
country verses.
VISC. I, Madam, make fun of it! Though he is my rival, I think his
verses admirable. I do not call them, like you, two strophes merely;
but two epigrams, as good as any of Martial's.
COUN. What! Does Martial make verses? I thought he only made gloves.
THI. It is not that Martial, Madam, but an author who lived thirty or
forty years ago.[6]
VISC. Mr. Thibaudier has read the authors, as you see. But, Madam, we
shall see if my comedy, with its interludes and dances, will
counteract in your mind the progress which the two strophes have made.
COUN. My son the Count must be one of the spectators, for he came this
morning from my country-seat, with his tutor, whom I see here.