not pretend to have even one atom of modesty; Trissotin, a professional
wit, listens in silence, but with secret pride, to the ridiculous
exclamations of the admirers of his genius.]

MAD. I must admit the turn is witty and sprightly.

MASC. I will sing you the tune I made to it.

CAT. Have you learned music?

MASC. I? Not at all.

CAT. How can you make a tune then?

MASC. People of rank know everything without ever having learned
anything.

MAD. His lordship is quite in the right, my dear.

MASC. Listen if you like the tune: _hem, hem, la, la._ The inclemency of
the season has greatly injured the delicacy of my voice but no matter,
it is in a free and easy way. (_He sings_). _Oh! Oh! quite without heed
was I_, etc.

CAT. What a passion there breathes in this music. It is enough to make
one die away with delight!

MAD. There is something plaintive in it.

MASC. Do you not think that the air perfectly well expresses the