pretends sometimes to be very ignorant, keeps his knowledge to himself, and dislikes nothing so much every day as using the marvellous talents which God has given him for the healing art.

Valère. It is a wonderful thing that all these great men have always some whim, some slight grain of madness mixed with their learning.

Martine. The madness of this man is greater than can be imagined, for sometimes he has to be beaten before he will own his ability; and I warn you beforehand that you will not succeed, that he will never own that he is a physician, unless you take each a stick, and compel him, by dint of blows, to admit at last what he will conceal at first. It is thus that we act when we have need of him.

Valère. What a strange delusion!

Martine. That is true; but, after that, you shall see that he works wonders.

Valère. What is his name?

Martine. His name is Sganarelle. But it is very easy to recognise him. He is a man with a large black beard, and wears a ruff, and a yellow and green coat.

Lucas. A yellow and green coat! He is then a parrot-doctor?

Valère. But is it really true that he is as clever as you say?

Martine. As clever. He is a man who works miracles. About six months ago, a woman was given up by all the other physicians; she was considered dead at least six hours, and they were going to bury her, when they dragged by force the man we are speaking of to her bedside. Having seen her, he poured a small drop of something into her mouth; and at that very instant she rose from her bed, and began immediately to walk in her room as if nothing had happened.

Lucas. Ah!

Valère. It must have been a drop of liquid gold.

Martine. Possibly so. Not more than three weeks ago, a young child, twelve years old, fell from the top of the belfry, and smashed his head, arms, and legs on the stones. No sooner took they our man to it, than he rubbed the whole body with a certain ointment, which he knows how to prepare; and the child immediately rose on its legs, and ran away to play at chuck-farthing.

Lucas. Hah!

Valère. This man must have the universal cure-all.

Martine. Who doubts it?

Lucas. Odds-bobs! that is the very man we want. Let us go quickly and fetch him.

Valère. We thank you for the service you have rendered us.

Martine. But do not fail to remember the warning I have given you.

Lucas. Hey! Zooks! leave it to us. If he wants nothing but a thrashing, we will gain our point.

Valère (to Lucas). We are very glad to have met with this woman; and I conceive the best hopes in the world from it.