He's mighty well; stout, fat, fair, rosy-lipped.

ORGON
Poor man!

DORINE
At evening she had nausea
And could't touch a single thing for supper,
Her headache still was so severe.

ORGON
And how
About Tartuffe?

DORINE
He supped alone, before her,
And unctuously ate up two partridges,
As well as half a leg o' mutton, deviled.

ORGON
Poor man!

DORINE
All night she couldn't get a wink
Of sleep, the fever racked her so; and we
Had to sit up with her till daylight.

ORGON
How
About Tartuffe?