The Imaginary Invalid

Arg. My daughter?

Toi. Your daughter. She will tell you that she has no need of Mr. Diafoirus, nor of his son, Mr. Thomas Diafoirus, nor all the Diafoiruses in the world.

Arg. But I have need of them. Besides, the match is more advantageous than you think. Mr. Diafoirus has only this son for his heir; and, moreover, Mr. Purgon, who has neither wife nor child, gives all he has in favour of this marriage; and Mr. Purgon is a man worth eight thousand francs a year.

Toi. What a lot of people he must have killed to have become so rich!

Arg. Eight thousand francs is something, without counting the property of the father.

Toi. That is very well, Sir, but, all the same, I advise you, between ourselves, to choose another husband for her; she is not of a make to become a Mrs. Diafoirus.

Arg. But I will have it so.

Toi. Fie! nonsense! Don't speak like that.

Arg. Don't speak like that? Why not?

Toi. Dear me, no, don't.

Arg. And why should I not speak like that?

Toi. People will say that you don't know what you are talking about.

Arg. People will say all they like, but I tell you that I will have her make my promise good.

Toi. I feel sure that she won't.

Arg. Then I will force her to do it.

Toi. She will not do it, I tell you.

Arg. She will, or I will shut her up in a convent.

Toi. You?

Arg. I.

Toi. Good!

Arg. How good?

Toi. You will not shut her up in a convent.

Arg. I shall not shut her up in a convent?

Toi. No.

Arg. No?

Toi. No.

Arg. Well, this is cool! I shall not put my daughter in a convent if I like!

Toi. No, I tell you.

Arg. And who will hinder me?

Toi. You yourself.

Arg. Myself?

Toi. You will never have the heart to do it.

Arg. I shall.

Toi. You are joking.

Arg. I am not joking.

Toi. Fatherly love will hinder you.

Arg. It will not hinder me.

Toi. A little tear or two, her arms thrown round your neck, Or "My darling little papa," said very tenderly, will be enough to touch your heart.

Arg. All that will be useless.

Toi. Oh yes!

Arg. I tell you that nothing will move me.

Toi. Rubbish!

Arg. You have no business to say "Rubbish."

Toi. I know you well enough; you are naturally kind-hearted.

Arg. (angrily). I am not kind-hearted, and I am ill-natured when I like.

Toi. Gently, Sir, you forget that you are ill.

Arg. I command her to prepare herself to take the husband I have fixed upon.

Toi. And I decidedly forbid her to do anything of the kind.

Arg. What have we come to? And what boldness is this for a scrub of a servant to speak in such a way before her master?

Toi. When a master does not consider what he is doing, a sensible servant should set him right.