not worth anything to me. Do not be quite so honest a woman, and
don't bother me so much.

CLE. What? Do you blame me for being too honest?

MERC. A woman's gentleness is what charms me most: your virtue makes
a clatter that never ceases to deafen me.

CLE. You care for hearts full of false tenderness, for those women
with the laudable and fine talent of knowing how to smother their
husbands with caresses in order to make them oblivious of the
existence of lovers.

MERC. Well! Shall I tell you what I think? An imaginary evil
concerns fools only; my device should be: 'Less honour and more peace.'

CLE. Would you, without any repugnance, suffer me openly to love a gallant?

MERC. Yes, if I were no longer worried by your tongue, and if it
changed your temper and your goings-on. I prefer a convenient vice,
to a fatiguing virtue. Adieu, Cleanthis, my dear soul; I must follow
Amphitryon. (He goes away.)

CLE Why has not my heart sufficient resolution to punish this
infamous scoundrel? Ah, how it maddens me, now, that I am an honest woman!

END OF THE FIRST ACT

ACT Il