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LES FÂCHEUX.
COMÉDIE.
* * * * *
THE BORES.
A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS.
(_THE ORIGINAL IN VERSE_.)
AUGUST 17TH, 1661.
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE.
_The Bores_ is a character-comedy; but the peculiarities taken as
the text of the play, instead of being confined to one or two of the
leading personages, are exhibited in different forms by a succession of
characters, introduced one after the other in rapid course, and
disappearing after the brief performance of their rôles. We do not find
an evolution of natural situations, proceeding from the harmonious
conduct of two or three individuals, but rather a disjointed series of
tableaux--little more than a collection of monologues strung together on
a weak thread of explanatory comments, enunciated by an unwilling
listener.
The method is less artistic, if not less natural; less productive of
situations, if capable of greater variety of illustrations. The
circumstances under which Molière undertook to compose the play explain
his resort to the weaker manner of analysis. The Superintendent-General
of finance, [Footnote: In Sir James Stephen's _Lectures on the History
of France_, vol. ii. page 22, I find: "Still further to centralize
the fiscal economy of France, Philippe le Bel created a new ministry. At
the head of it he placed an officer of high rank, entitled the
Superintendent-General of Finance, and, in subordination to him, he
appointed other officers designated as Treasurers."] Nicolas Fouquet
desiring to entertain the King, Queen, and court at his mansion of
Vaux-le-Vicomte, asked for a comedy at the hands of the Palais-Royal
company, who had discovered the secret of pleasing the Grand Monarque.
Molière had but a fortnight's notice; and he was expected, moreover, to
accommodate his muse to various prescribed styles of entertainment.
Fouquet wanted a cue for a dance by Beauchamp, for a picture by Lebrun,
for stage devices by Torelli. Molière was equal to the emergency. Never,
perhaps, was a literary work written to order so worthy of being
preserved for future generations. Not only were the intermediate ballets
made sufficiently elastic to give scope for the ingenuity of the poet's
auxiliaries, but the written scenes themselves were admirably contrived
to display all the varied talent of his troupe.
The success of the piece on its first representation, which took place
on the 17th of August, 1661, was unequivocal; and the King summoned the
author before him in order personally to express his satisfaction. It is
related that, the Marquis de Soyecourt passing by at the time, the King
said to Molière, "There is an original character which you have not yet
copied." The suggestion was enough. The result was that, at the next
representation, Dorante the hunter, a new bore, took his place in the
comedy.
Louis XIV. thought he had discovered in Molière a convenient mouthpiece
for his dislikes. The selfish king was no lover of the nobility, and was
short-sighted enough not to perceive that the author's attacks on the
nobles paved the way for doubts on the divine right of kings themselves.
Hence he protected Molière, and entrusted to him the care of writing
plays for his entertainments; the public did not, however, see _The
Bores_ until the 4th of November of the same year; and then it met
with great success.
The bore is ubiquitous, on the stage as in everyday life. Horace painted
him in his famous passage commencing _Ibam forte via Sacrâ_, and the
French satirist, Regnier, has depicted him in his eighth satire.
Molière had no doubt seen the Italian farce, "_Le Case svaliggiate
ovvera gli Interrompimenti di Pantalone_," which appears to have
directly provided him with the thread of his comedy. This is the gist of
it. A girl, courted by Pantaloon, gives him a rendezvous in order to
escape from his importunities; whilst a cunning knave sends across his
path a medley of persons to delay his approach, and cause him to break
his appointment. This delay, however, is about the only point of
resemblance between the Italian play and the French comedy.
There are some passages in Scarron's _Epîtres chagrines_ addressed
to the Marshal d'Albret and M. d'Elbène, from which our author must have
derived a certain amount of inspiration; for in these epistles the
writer reviews the whole tribe of bores, in coarse but vigorous
language.
Molière dedicated _The Bores_ to Louis XIV. in the following words:
SIRE,
I am adding one scene to the Comedy, and a man who dedicates a book is a
species of Bore insupportable enough. Your Majesty is better acquainted
with this than any person in the kingdom: and this is not the first time
that you have been exposed to the fury of Epistles Dedicatory. But
though I follow the example of others, and put myself in the rank of
those I have ridiculed; I dare, however, assure Your Majesty, that what
I have done in this case is not so much to present You a book, as to
have the opportunity of returning You thanks for the success of this
Comedy. I owe, Sire, that success, which exceeded my expectations, not
only to the glorious approbation with which Your Majesty honoured this
piece at first, and which attracted so powerfully that of all the world;
but also to the order, which You gave me, to add a _Bore_, of which
Yourself had the goodness to give me the idea, and which was proved by
everyone to be the finest part of the work. [Footnote: See Prefatory
Memoir, page xxviii. ?] I must confess, Sire, I never did any thing with
such ease and readiness, as that part, where I had Your Majesty's
commands to work.
The pleasure I had in obeying them, was to me more than _Apollo_
and all the _Muses_; and by this I conceive what I should be able
to execute in a complete Comedy, were I inspired by the same commands.
Those who are born in an elevated rank, may propose to themselves the
honour of serving Your Majesty in great Employments; but, for my part,
all the glory I can aspire to, is to amuse You. [Footnote: In spite of
all that has been said about Molière's passionate fondness for his
profession, I imagine he must now and then have felt some slight, or
suffered from some want of consideration. Hence perhaps the above
sentence. Compare with this Shakespeare's hundred and eleventh sonnet:
"Oh! for my sake, do you with Fortune chide
The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,
That did not better for my life provide
Than public means which public manners breeds.
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand;
And almost thence my nature is subdu'd
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand."]
The ambition of my wishes is confined to this; and I think that, to
contribute any thing to the diversion of her King, is, in some respects,
not to be useless to France. Should I not succeed in this, it shall
never be through want of zeal, or study; but only through a hapless
destiny, which often accompanies the best intentions, and which, to a
certainty, would be a most sensible affliction to SIRE, _Your_
MAJESTY'S _most humble, most obedient, and most faithful Servant_,
MOLIÈRE.
In the eighth volume of the "Select Comedies of M. de Molière, London,
1732," the play of _The Bores_ is dedicated, under the name of
_The Impertinents_, to the Right Honourable the Lord Carteret,
[Footnote: John, Lord Carteret, born 22nd April, 1690, twice
Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, was Secretary of State and head of the
Ministry from February, 1742, until November 23, 1744, became Earl
Granville that same year, on the death of his mother; was president of
the Council in 1751, and died in 1763.] in the following words:
MY LORD,
It is by Custom grown into a sort of Privilege for Writers, of
whatsoever Class, to attack Persons of Rank and Merit by these kind of
Addresses. We conceive a certain Charm in Great and Favourite Names,
which sooths our Reader, and prepossesses him in our Favour: We deem
ourselves of Consequence, according to the Distinction of our Patron;
and come in for our Share in the Reputation he bears in the World. Hence
it is, MY LORD, that Persons of the greatest Worth are most expos'd to
these Insults.
For however usual and convenient this may be to a Writer, it must be
confess'd, MY LORD, it may be some degree of Persecution to a
_Patron_; Dedicators, as _Molière_ observes, being a Species
of _Impertinents_, troublesome enough. Yet the Translator of this
Piece hopes he may be rank'd among the more tolerable ones, in presuming
to inscribe to Your LORDSHIP the _Facheux of Molière_ done into
_English_; assuring himself that Your LORDSHIP will not think any
thing this Author has writ unworthy of your Patronage; nor discourage
even a weaker Attempt to make him more generally read and understood.
Your LORDSHIP is well known, as an absolute Master, and generous Patron
of Polite Letters; of those Works especially which discover a Moral, as
well as Genius; and by a delicate Raillery laugh men out of their
Follies and Vices: could the Translator, therefore, of this Piece come
anything near the Original, it were assured of your Acceptance. He will
not dare to arrogate any thing to himself on this Head, before so good a
Judge as Your LORDSHIP: He hopes, however, it will appear that, where
he seems too superstitious a Follower of his Author, 'twas not because
he could not have taken more Latitude, and have given more Spirit; but
to answer what he thinks the most essential part of a Translator, to
lead the less knowing to the Letter; and after better Acquaintance,
Genius will bring them to the Spirit.
The Translator knows your LORDSHIP, and Himself too well to attempt Your
Character, even though he should think this a proper occasion: The
Scholar--the Genius--the Statesman--the Patriot--the Man of Honour and
Humanity.--Were a Piece finish'd from these Out-lines, the whole World
would agree in giving it Your LORDSHIP.
But that requires a Hand--the Person, who presents This, thinks it
sufficient to be indulg'd the Honour of subscribing himself
_My_ LORD, _Your Lordship's most devoted, most obedient, humble
servant,_
THE TRANSLATOR.
Thomas Shadwell, whom Dryden flagellates in his _Mac-Flecknoe_, and
in the second part of _Absalom and Achitophel_, and whom Pope
mentions in his _Dunciad_, wrote _The Sullen Lovers, or the
Impertinents_, which was first performed in 1668 at the Duke of
York's Theatre, by their Majesties' Servants.
This play is a working up of _The Bores_ and _The
Misanthrope_, with two scenes from _The Forced Marriage_, and a
reminiscence from _The Love-Tiff_. It is dedicated to the "Thrice
Noble, High and Puissant Prince William, Duke, Marquis, and Earl of
Newcastle," because all Men, who pretend either to Sword or Pen, ought
"to shelter themselves under Your Grace's Protection." Another reason
Shadwell gives for this dedication is in order "to rescue this (play)
from the bloody Hands of the Criticks, who will not dare to use it
roughly, when they see Your Grace's Name in the beginning." He also
states, that "the first Hint I received was from the Report of a Play of
Molière's of three Acts, called _Les Fascheux_, upon which I wrote
a great part of this before I read that." He borrowed, after reading it,
the first scene in the second act, and Molière's story of Piquet, which
he translated into Backgammon, and says, "that he who makes a common
practice of stealing other men's wit, would if he could with the same
safety, steal anything else." Shadwell mentions, however, nothing of
borrowing from _The Misanthrope_ and _The Forced Marriage_.
The preface was, besides political difference, the chief cause of the
quarrel between Shadwell and Dryden; for in it the former defends Ben
Jonson against the latter, and mentions that--"I have known some of late
so insolent to say that Ben Jonson wrote his best playes without wit,
imagining that all the wit playes consisted in bringing two persons upon
the stage to break jest, and to bob one another, which they call
repartie." The original edition of _The Sullen Lovers_ is partly in
blank verse; but, in the first collected edition of Shadwell's works,
published by his son in 1720, it is printed in prose. Stanford, "a
morose, melancholy man, tormented beyond measure with the impertinence
of people, and resolved to leave the world to be quit of them" is a
combination of Alceste in _The Misanthrope_, and Éraste in _The
Bores_; Lovel, "an airy young gentleman, friend to Stanford, one that
is pleased with, and laughs at, the impertinents; and that which is the
other's torment, is his recreation," is Philinte of _The
Misanthrope_; Emilia and Carolina appear to be Célimène and Eliante;
whilst Lady Vaine is an exaggerated Arsinoé of the same play. Sir
Positive At-all, "a foolish knight that pretends to understand
everything in the world, and will suffer no man to understand anything
in his Company, so foolishly positive, that he will never be convinced
of an error, though never so gross," is a very good character, and an
epitome of all the Bores into one.
The prologue of _The Sullen Lovers_ begins thus:--
"How popular are Poets now-a-days!
Who can more Men at their first summons raise,
Than many a wealthy home-bred Gentleman,
By all his Interest in his Country can.
They raise their Friends; but in one Day arise
'Gainst one poor Poet all these Enemies."
PREFACE.
Never was any Dramatic performance so hurried as this; and it is a
thing, I believe, quite new, to have a comedy planned, finished, got up,
and played in a fortnight. I do not say this to boast of an
_impromptu_, or to pretend to any reputation on that account: but
only to prevent certain people, who might object that I have not
introduced here all the species of Bores who are to be found. I know
that the number of them is great, both at the Court and in the City, and
that, without episodes, I might have composed a comedy of five acts and
still have had matter to spare. But in the little time allowed me, it
was impossible to execute any great design, or to study much the choice
of my characters, or the disposition of my subject. I therefore confined
myself to touching only upon a small number of Bores; and I took those
which first presented themselves to my mind, and which I thought the
best fitted for amusing the august personages before whom this play was
to appear; and, to unite all these things together speedily, I made use
of the first plot I could find. It is not, at present, my intention to
examine whether the whole might not have been better, and whether all
those who were diverted with it laughed according to rule. The time may
come when I may print my remarks upon the pieces I have written: and I
do not despair letting the world see that, like a grand author, I can
quote Aristotle and Horace. In expectation of this examination, which
perhaps may never take place, I leave the decision of this affair to the
multitude, and I look upon it as equally difficult to oppose a work
which the public approves, as it is to defend one which it condemns.
There is no one who does not know for what time of rejoicing the piece
was composed; and that _fete_ made so much noise, that it is not
necessary to speak of it [Footnote: _The Bores_, according to the
Preface, planned, finished, got up, and played in a fortnight, was acted
amidst other festivities, first at Vaux, the seat of Monsieur Fouquet,
Superintendent of Finances, the 17th of August, 1661, in the presence of
the King and the whole Court, with the exception of the Queen. Three
weeks later Fouquet was arrested, and finally condemned to be shut up in
prison, where he died in 1672. It was not till November, 1661, that
_The Bores_ was played in Paris.] but it will not be amiss to say a
word or two of the ornaments which have been mixed with the Comedy.
The design was also to give a ballet; and as there was only a small
number of first-rate dancers, it was necessary to separate the
_entrées_ [Footnote: See Prefatory Memoir, page xxx., note 12] of
this ballet, and to interpolate them with the Acts of the Play, so that
these intervals might give time to the same dancers to appear in
different dresses; also to avoid breaking the thread of the piece by
these interludes, it was deemed advisable to weave the ballet in the
best manner one could into the subject, and make but one thing of it and
the play. But as the time was exceedingly short, and the whole was not
entirely regulated by the same person, there may be found, perhaps, some
parts of the ballet which do not enter so naturally into the play as
others do. Be that as it may, this is a medley new upon our stage;
although one might find some authorities in antiquity: but as every one
thought it agreeable, it may serve as a specimen for other things which
may be concerted more at leisure.
Immediately upon the curtain rising, one of the actors, whom you may
suppose to be myself, appeared on the stage in an ordinary dress, and
addressing himself to the King, with the look of a man surprised, made
excuses in great disorder, for being there alone, and wanting both time
and actors to give his Majesty the diversion he seemed to expect; at the
same time in the midst of twenty natural cascades, a large shell was
disclosed, which every one saw: and the agreeable Naiad who appeared in
it, advanced to the front of the stage, and with an heroic air
pronounced the following verses which Mr. Pellison had made, and which
served as a Prologue.
PROLOGUE.
(_The Theatre represents a garden adorned with Termini and several
fountains. A Naiad coming out of the water in a shell.)
Mortals, from Grots profound I visit you,
Gallia's great Monarch in these Scenes to view;
Shall Earth's wide Circuit, or the wider Seas,
Produce some Novel Sight your Prince to please;
Speak He, or wish: to him nought can be hard,
Whom as a living Miracle you all regard.
Fertile in Miracles, his Reign demands
Wonders at universal Nature's Hands,
Sage, young, victorious, valiant, and august,
Mild as severe, and powerful as he's just,
His Passions, and his Foes alike to foil,
And noblest Pleasures join to noblest Toil;
His righteous Projects ne'er to misapply,
Hear and see all, and act incessantly:
He who can this, can all; he needs but dare,
And Heaven in nothing will refuse his Prayer.
Let Lewis but command, these Bounds shall move,
And trees grow vocal as Dodona's Grove.
Ye Nymphs and Demi-Gods, whose Presence fills
Their sacred Trunks, come forth; so Lewis wills;
To please him be our task; I lead the way,
Quit now your ancient Forms but for a Day,
With borrow'd Shape cheat the Spectator's Eye,
And to Theatric Art yourselves apply.
(_Several Dryads, accompanied by Fawns and Satyrs, come forth out of
the Trees and Termini_.)
Hence Royal Cares, hence anxious Application,
(His fav'rite Work) to bless a happy Nation:
His lofty Mind permit him to unbend,
And to a short Diversion condescend;
The Morn shall see him with redoubled Force,
Resume the Burthen and pursue his Course,
Give Force to Laws, his Royal Bounties share,
Wisely prevent our Wishes with his Care.
Contending Lands to Union firm dispose,
And lose his own to fix the World's Repose.
But now, let all conspire to ease the Pressure
Of Royalty, by elegance of Pleasure.
Impertinents, avant; nor come in sight,
Unless to give him more supreme Delight.
[Footnote: The Naiad was represented by Madeleine Beéjart, even then
good-looking, though she was more than forty years old. The verses are
taken from the eighth volume of the "Select Comedies of M. de Molière in
French and English, London, 1732," and as fulsome as they well can be.
The English translation, which is not mine, fairly represents the
official nonsense of the original.]
(_The Naiad brings with her, for the Play, one part of the Persons she
has summoned to appear, whilst the rest begin a Dance to the sound of
Hautboys, accompanied by Violins_.)
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
ÉRASTE, _in love with Orphise_.
DAMIS, _guardian to Orphise_.
ALCIDOR, _a bore_.
LISANDRE, _a bore_.
ALCANDRE, _a bore_.
ALCIPPE, _a bore_.
DORANTE, _a bore_.
CARITIDÈS, _a bore_.
ORMIN, _a bore_.
FILINTE, _a bore_.
LA MONTAGNE, _servant to Éraste_.
L'ÉPINE, _servant to Damis_.
LA RIVIERE _and_ TWO COMRADES.
ORPHISE, _in love with Éraste_.
ORANTE, _a female bore_.
CLIMÈNE, _a female bore_.
_Scene_.--PARIS.
* * * * *
[Footnote: Molière himself played probably the parts of Lisandre the
dancer, Alcandre the duellist, or Alcippe the gambler, and perhaps all
three, with some slight changes in the dress. He also acted Caritidès
the pedant, and Dorante the lover of the chase. In the inventory taken
after Molière's death we find: "A dress for the Marquis of the
_Fâcheux_, consisting in a pair of breeches very large, and
fastened below with ribbands, (_rhingrave_), made of common silk,
blue and gold-coloured stripes, with plenty of flesh-coloured and yellow
trimmings, with Colbertine, a doublet of Colbertine cloth trimmed with
flame-coloured ribbands, silk stockings and garters." The dress of
Caritidès in the same play, "cloak and breeches of cloth, with picked
trimmings, and a slashed doublet." Dorante's dress was probably "a
hunting-coat, sword and belt; the above-mentioned hunting-coat
ornamented with fine silver lace, also a pair of stag-hunting gloves,
and a pair of long stockings (_bas a botter_) of yellow cloth." The
original inventory, given by M. Soulié, has _toile Colbertine_, for
"Colbertine cloth." I found this word in Webster's Dictionary described
from _The Fop's Dictionary of 1690_ as "A lace resembling net-work,
the fabric of Mons. Colbert, superintendent of the French king's
manufactures." In Congreve's _The Way of the World_, Lady Wishfort,
quarrelling with her woman Foible (Act v., Scene i), says to her, among
other insults: "Go, hang out an old Frisoneer gorget, with a yard of
yellow colberteen again!"]
THE BORES (_LES FÁCHEUX._)
ACT I.
SCENE I.--ÉRASTE, LA MONTAGNE.
ER. Good Heavens! under what star am I born, to be perpetually worried
by bores? It seems that fate throws them in my way everywhere; each day
I discover some new specimen. But there is nothing to equal my bore of
to-day. I thought I should never get rid of him; a hundred times I
cursed the harmless desire, which seized me at dinner time, to see the
play, where, thinking to amuse myself, I unhappily was sorely punished
for my sins. I must tell you how it happened, for I cannot yet think
about it coolly. I was on the stage,
[Footnote: It was the custom for young men of fashion to seat themselves
upon the stage (see Vol. I.. Prefatory Memoir, page 26, note 7). They
often crowded it to such an extent, that it was difficult for the actors
to move. This custom was abolished only in 1759, when the Count de
Lauraguais paid the comedians a considerable sum of money, on the
condition of not allowing any stranger upon the stage.]
in a mood to listen to the piece which I had heard praised by so many.
The actors began; everyone kept silence; when with a good deal of noise
and in a ridiculous manner, a man with large rolls entered abruptly,
crying out "Hulloa, there, a seat directly!" and, disturbing the
audience with his uproar, interrupted the play in its finest passage.
Heavens! will Frenchmen, altho' so often corrected, never behave
themselves like men of common-sense? Must we, in a public theatre, show
ourselves with our worst faults, and so confirm, by our foolish
outbursts what our neighbours everywhere say of us? Thus I spoke; and
whilst I was shrugging my shoulders, the actors attempted to continue
their parts. But the man made a fresh disturbance in seating himself,
and again crossing the stage with long strides, although he might have
been quite comfortable at the wings, he planted his chair full in front,
and, defying the audience by his broad back, hid the actors from
three-fourths of the pit. A murmur arose, at which anyone else would
have felt ashamed; but he, firm and resolute, took no notice of it, and
would have remained just as he had placed himself, if, to my misfortune,
he had not cast his eyes on me. "Ah, Marquis!" he said, taking a seat
near me, "how dost thou do? Let me embrace thee." Immediately my face
was covered with blushes that people should see I was acquainted with
such a giddy fellow. I was but slightly known to him for all that: but
so it is with these men, who assume an acquaintance on nothing, whose
embraces we are obliged to endure when we meet them, and who are so
familiar with us as to thou and thee us. He began by asking me a hundred
frivolous questions, raising his voice higher than the actors.
Everyone was cursing him; and in order to check him I said, "I should
like to listen to the play." "Hast thou not seen it, Marquis? Oh, on my
soul, I think it very funny, and I am no fool in these matters. I know
the canons of perfection, and Corneille reads to me all that he writes."
Thereupon he gave me a summary of the piece, informing me scene after
scene of what was about to happen; and when we came to any lines which
he knew by heart, he recited them aloud before the actor could say them.
It was in vain for me to resist; he continued his recitations, and
towards the end rose a good while before the rest. For these fashionable
fellows, in order to behave gallantly, especially avoid listening to the
conclusion. I thanked Heaven, and naturally thought that, with the
comedy, my misery was ended. But as though this were too good to be
expected, my gentleman fastened on me again, recounted his exploits, his
uncommon virtues, spoke of his horses, of his love-affairs, of his
influence at court, and heartily offered me his services. I politely
bowed my thanks, all the time devising some way of escape. But he,
seeing me eager to depart, said, "Let us leave; everyone is gone." And
when we were outside, he prevented my going away, by saying, "Marquis,
let us go to the Cours to show my carriage."
[Footnote: The Cours is that part of the Champs-Elysées called _le
Cours-la-Reine_; because Maria de Medici, the wife of Henry IV., had
trees planted there. As the theatre finished about seven o'clock in the
evening, it was not too late to show a carriage.]
"It is very well built, and more than one Duke and Peer has ordered a
similar one from my coach-maker." I thanked him, and the better to get
off, told him that I was about to give a little entertainment. "Ah, on
my life, I shall join it, as one of your friends, and give the go-by
to the Marshal, to whom I was engaged." "My banquet," I said, "is too
slight for gentlemen of your rank." "Nay," he replied, "I am a man of
no ceremony, and I go simply to have a chat with thee; I vow, I am tired
of grand entertainments." "But if you are expected, you will give
offence, if you stay away." "Thou art joking, Marquis! We all know each
other; I pass my time with thee much more pleasantly." I was chiding
myself, sad and perplexed at heart at the unlucky result of my
excuse, and knew not what to do next to get rid of such a mortal
annoyance, when a splendidly built coach, crowded with footmen before
and behind, stopped in front of us with a great clatter; from which
leaped forth a young man gorgeously dressed; and my bore and he,
hastening to embrace each other, surprised the passers-by with their
furious encounter. Whilst both were plunged in these fits of civilities,
I quietly made my exit without a word; not before I had long groaned
under such a martyrdom, cursing this bore whose obstinate persistence
kept me from the appointment which had been made with me here.
LA M. These annoyances are mingled with the pleasures of life. All goes
not, sir, exactly as we wish it. Heaven wills that here below everyone
should meet bores; without that, men would be too happy.
ER. But of all my bores the greatest is Damis, guardian of her whom I
adore, who dashes every hope she raises, and has brought it to pass that
she dares not see me in his presence. I fear I have already passed the
hour agreed on; it is in this walk that Orphise promised to be.
LA M. The time of an appointment has generally some latitude, and is not
limited to a second.
ER. True; but I tremble; my great passion makes out of nothing a crime
against her whom I love.
LA M. If this perfect love, which you manifest so well, makes out of
nothing a great crime against her whom you love; the pure flame which
her heart feels for you on the other hand converts all your crimes into
nothing.
ER. But, in good earnest, do you believe that I am loved by her?
LA M. What! do you still doubt a love that has been tried?
ER. Ah, it is with difficulty that a heart that truly loves has complete
confidence in such a matter. It fears to flatter itself; and, amidst its
various cares, what it most wishes is what it least believes. But let us
endeavour to discover the delightful creature.
LA M. Sir, your necktie is loosened in front.
ER. No matter.
LA M. Let me adjust it, if you please.
ER. Ugh, you are choking me, blockhead; let it be as it is.
LA M. Let me just comb...
ER. Was there ever such stupidity! You have almost taken off my ear with
a tooth of the comb.
[Footnote: The servants had always a comb about them to arrange the wigs
of their masters, whilst the latter thought it fashionable to comb and
arrange their hair in public (see _The Pretentious Young Ladies_).]
LA M. Your rolls...
ER. Leave them; you are too particular.
LA M. They are quite rumpled.
ER. I wish them to be so.
LA M. At least allow me, as a special favour, to brush your hat,
which is covered with dust.
ER. Brush, then, since it must be so.
LA M. Will you wear it like that?
ER. Good Heavens, make haste!
LA M. It would be a shame.
ER. _(After waiting_). That is enough.
LA M. Have a little patience.
ER. He will be the death of me!
LA M. Where could you get all this dirt?
ER. Do you intend to keep that hat forever?
LA M. It is finished.
ER. Give it me, then.
LA M. (_Letting the hat fall_). Ah!
ER. There it is on the ground. I am not much the better for all your
brushing! Plague take you!
LA M. Let me give it a couple of rubs to take off...
ER. You shall not. The deuce take every servant who dogs your heels, who
wearies his master, and does nothing but annoy him by wanting to set
himself up as indispensable!