AMPH. Upon the order which I lately gave you . . .

SOS. I set forth under skies veiled in black crape, swearing
bitterly against you for this wretched martyrdom, and cursing twenty
times the order of which you speak.

AMPH. What do you mean, you villain?

SOS. You have only to speak, Monsieur, and I shall lie, if you desire it.

AMPH. That is how a valet shows his zeal for us. Never mind. What
happened to you on the way?

SOS. I had a mortal fright at the least thing I met.

AMPH. Poltroon!

SOS. Nature has her caprices in forming us; she gives us differing
inclinations; some find a thousand delights in exposing themselves;
I find them in taking care of myself.

AMPH. When you arrived at the house...?

SOS. When I reached the door, I wished to rehearse to myself for a
short time, in what tone and in what manner I should give a glorious
account of the battle.

AMPH. What followed?