The whole world joins to sing his praise already;
He's noble--in his parish; handsome too;
Red ears and high complexion--oh, my lud!
You'll be too happy, sure, with him for husband.
MARIANE
Oh dear! . . .
DORINE
What joy and pride will fill your heart
To be the bride of such a handsome fellow!
MARIANE
Oh, stop, I beg you; try to find some way
To help break off the match. I quite give in,
I'm ready to do anything you say.
DORINE
No, no, a daughter must obey her father,
Though he should want to make her wed a monkey.
Besides, your fate is fine. What could be better!
You'll take the stage-coach to his little village,
And find it full of uncles and of cousins,
Whose conversation will delight you. Then
You'll be presented in their best society.
You'll even go to call, by way of welcome,
On Mrs. Bailiff, Mrs. Tax-Collector,
Who'll patronise you with a folding-stool.
There, once a year, at carnival, you'll have
Perhaps--a ball; with orchestra--two bag-pipes;
And sometimes a trained ape, and Punch and Judy;
Though if your husband . . .
MARIANE
Oh, you'll kill me. Please
Contrive to help me out with your advice.
DORINE
I thank you kindly.
MARIANE
Oh! Dorine, I beg you . . .
DORINE
To serve you right, this marriage must go through.
MARIANE
Dear girl!
DORINE
No.
MARIANE
If I say I love Valere . . .
DORINE
No, no. Tartuffe's your man, and you shall taste him.
MARIANE
You know I've always trusted you; now help me .
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