The Shopkeeper Turned Gentleman

MR. JOUR. Upon my word, I have been speaking prose these forty years without being aware of it; and I am under the greatest obligation to you for informing me of it. Well, then, I wish to write to her in a letter, Fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of love; but I would have this worded in a genteel manner, and turned prettily.

PROF. PHIL. Say that the fire of her eyes has reduced your heart to ashes; that you suffer day and night for her tortures…

MR. JOUR. No, no, no; I don't want any of that. I simply wish for what I tell you. Fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of love.

PROF. PHIL. Still, you might amplify the thing a little?

MR. JOUR. No, I tell you, I will have nothing but those very words in the letter; but they must be put in a fashionable way, and arranged as they should be. Pray show me a little, so that I may see the different ways in which they can be put.

PROF. PHIL. They may be put, first of all, as you have said, Fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of love; or else, Of love die make me, fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes; or, Your beautiful eyes of love make me, fair Marchioness, die; or, Die of love your beautiful eyes, fair Marchioness, make me; or else, Me make your beautiful eyes die, fair Marchioness, of love.

MR. JOUR. But of all these ways, which is the best?

PROF. PHIL. The one you said: Fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of love.

MR. JOUR. Yet I have never studied, and I did all that right off at the first shot. I thank you with all my heart, and I beg of you to come to-morrow morning early.

PROF. PHIL. I shall not fail.

SCENE VII.

– MR. JOURDAIN, A SERVANT.

MR. JOUR. What? Has my suit of clothes not come yet?

SER. No, Sir.

MR. JOUR. That confounded tailor makes me wait a long time on a day like this, when I have so much business to attend to. I am furious. May the deuce fly away with the tailor! May the plague choke the tailor! May the ague shake that brute of a tailor! If I had him here now, that rascally tailor, that wretch of a tailor, I…

SCENE VIII.

– MR. JOURDAIN, THE MASTER TAILOR, AN ASSISTANT TAILOR (bringing a suit of clothes for MR. JOURDAIN), A SERVANT.

MR. JOUR. Ha! here you are. I was just on the point of getting angry with you.

TAIL. I could not come sooner, although I set twenty people to work at your coat.

MR. JOUR. You have sent me such a small pair of silk stockings that I had no end of trouble to put them on, and two of the stitches are broken already.

TAIL. They are pretty sure to become only too large.

MR. JOUR. No doubt, if I keep on breaking the stitches. You also sent me a pair of shoes that hurt me horribly.

TAIL. Not at all, Sir.

MR. JOUR. How! not at all?

TAIL. No; they do not hurt you at all.

MR. JOUR. I tell you they do hurt me.

TAIL. You fancy so.

MR. JOUR. I fancy so because I feel it to be so. Did any one ever hear such an argument!

TAIL. See, we have the most beautiful and the best matched suit in the whole court. It is a work of art to have discovered a sober suit of clothes not black; and I bet that the most skilful tailors would not do as much after half a dozen trials.

MR. JOUR. Why, what does this mean? You have put all the flowers upside down.

TAIL. You did not tell me you wished to have them the other way up.

MR. JOUR. Was it necessary to say that?

TAIL. Yes, certainly; for all the people of quality wear them in this way.

MR. JOUR. All people of quality wear the flowers bottom upwards?

TAIL. Yes, Sir.

MR. JOUR. Oh, then it's all right.

TAIL. If you wish it, I will put them the other way up.

MR. JOUR. No, no.

TAIL. You have only to say so.

MR. JOUR. No, no. I tell you that you have done right. Do you think my clothes fit me well?

TAIL. No doubt about it. I defy any painter with his pencil to draw you anything to fit more exactly. I have in my house a workman who to get up a rhinegrave is the greatest genius of our time, and another who in putting together a doublet is the hero of our age.

MR. JOUR. Are the wig and feathers as they should be?

TAIL. Everything is right.

MR. JOUR. (looking carefully at the tailor's coat). Oh! oh! Mr. Tailor, you have there some of the stuff of the last coat you made for me! I know it well.

TAIL. I thought the stuff so beautiful that I could not help cutting a coat from it for myself.

MR. JOUR. Yes; but you should not have cut it from mine.

TAIL. Will you put on your coat?

MR. JOUR. Yes; give it me.

TAIL. Wait a moment. Things are not done in that manner. I have brought my people with me to dress you to music; such coats as these are only put on with ceremony. Hullo there! Come in.

SCENE IX.