Sganarelle. Because there is in bread and wine mixed together a sympathetic virtue which produces speech. Do you not see that they give nothing else to parrots, and that, by eating it, they learn to speak?

Géronte. That is true. Oh! the great man! Quick, plenty of bread and wine.

Sganarelle. I shall come back to-night to see how the patient is getting on.

Scene VII.—Géronte, Sganarelle, Jacqueline.

Sganarelle (to Jacqueline). Stop a little you. (To Géronte.) Sir, I must give some medicine to your nurse.

Jacqueline. To me, Sir? I am as well as can be.

Sganarelle. So much the worse, nurse, so much the worse. This excess of health is dangerous, and it would not be amiss to bleed you a little gently, and to administer some little soothing injection.

Géronte. But, my dear Sir, that is a method which I cannot understand. Why bleed folks when they are not ill?

Sganarelle. It does not matter, the method is salutary; and as we drink for the thirst to come, so must we bleed for the disease to come.

Jacqueline (going). I do not care a fig for all this, and I will not have my body made an apothecary’s shop.

Sganarelle. You object to my remedies; but we shall know how to bring you to reason.

Scene VIII.—Géronte, Sganarelle.

Sganarelle. I wish you good day.

Géronte. Stay a moment, if you please.

Sganarelle. What are you going to do?

Géronte. Give you your fee, sir.

Sganarelle (putting his hands behind him, from under his gown, while Géronte opens his purse). I shall not accept it, Sir.

Géronte. Sir.

Sganarelle. Not at all.

Géronte. One moment.

Sganarelle. On no consideration.

Géronte. Pray!

Sganarelle. You are jesting.

Géronte. That is settled.

Sganarelle. I shall do nothing of the kind.

Géronte. What!