Agnès. Heaven! you ought not to blame me. Why did you not make yourself loved, as he has done? I did not prevent you, I fancy.

Arnolphe. I tried all I could; but all my pains were to no purpose.

Agnès. Of a truth then he knows more about it than you; for he had no difficulty in making himself loved.

Arnolphe (aside). See how the jade reasons and retorts! Plague! could one of your witty ladies say more about it? Ah, I was a dolt; or else, on my honour, a fool of a girl knows more than the wisest, man. (To Agnès.) Since you are so good at reasoning, Madam Chop-logic, should I have maintained you so long for his benefit?

Agnès. No. He will pay you back, even to the last farthing.

Arnolphe (aside). She hits on words that double my vexation. (Aloud). With all his ability, hussy, will he discharge me the obligations that you owe me?

Agnès. I do not owe you so much as you may think.

Arnolphe. Was the care of bringing you up nothing?

Agnès. Verily, you have been at great pains there, and have caused me to be finely taught throughout. Do you think I flatter myself so far as not to know in my own mind that I am an ignoramus? I am ashamed of myself, and at my age, I do not wish to pass any longer for a fool, if I can help it.

Arnolphe. You shrink from ignorance, and would learn something of your spark, at any cost.

Agnès. To be sure. It is from him I know what I do know; I fancy I owe him much more than you.

Arnolphe. Really, what prevents me from revenging this saucy talk with a cuff? I am enraged at the sight of her provoking coldness: and to beat her would be a satisfaction to me.

Agnès. Ah, you can do that if you choose.

Arnolphe (aside). That speech and that look disarm my fury, and bring back the tenderness to my heart which effaces all her guilt. How strange it is to be in love! To think that men should be subject to such weakness for these traitresses! Everyone knows their imperfection. They are extravagant and indiscreet. Their mind is wicked and their understanding weak. There is nought weaker, more imbecile, more faithless; and, in spite of all, everything in the world is done for the sake of these bipeds. (To Agnès). Well, let us make peace. Listen, little wretch, I forgive all, and restore you to my affection. Learn thus how much I love you; and, seeing me so good, love me in return.

Agnès. With all my heart I should like to please you, if it were in my power.

Arnolphe. Poor little darling, you can if you will. Just listen to this sigh of love. See this dying look, behold my person, and forsake this young coxcomb and the love he inspires. He must have thrown some spell over you, and you will be a hundred times happier with me. Your desire is to be finely dressed and frolicsome; then I swear you shall ever be so; I will fondle you night and day, I will hug you, kiss you, devour you; you shall do everything you have a mind to. I do not enter into particulars; and that is saying everything. (Aside). To what length will my passion go? (Aloud). In short, nothing can equal my love. What proof would you have me give you, ungrateful girl? Would you have me weep? Shall I beat myself? Shall I tear out one half of my hair? Shall I kill myself? Yes, say so if you will. I am quite ready, cruel creature, to convince you of my love.

Agnès. Stay. All you say does not touch my heart. Horace could do more with a couple of words.