CEL. (_Coming out in tears, her father following her_). Ah! never
expect my heart to consent to that.

GORG. What do you mutter, you little impertinent girl? Do you suppose
you can thwart my resolution? Have I not absolute power over you?
And shall your youthful brain control my fatherly discretion by foolish
arguments? Which of us two has most right to command the other? Which of
us two, you or I, is, in your opinion, best able to judge what is
advantageous for you? Zounds, do not provoke me too much, or you may
feel, and in a very short time too, what strength this arm of mine still
possesses! Your shortest way, you obstinate minx, would be to accept
without any more ado the husband intended for you; but you say,
"I do not know what kind of temper he has, and I ought to think about
it beforehand, if you will allow me." I know that he is heir to a large
fortune; ought I therefore to trouble my head about anything else?
Can this man, who has twenty thousand golden charms in his pocket to be
beloved by you, want any accomplishments? Come, come, let him be what he
will, I promise you that with such a sum he is a very worthy gentleman!

CEL. Alas!

GORG. Alas, indeed! What is the meaning of that?
A fine alas you have uttered just now! Look ye! If once you put me in a
passion you will have plenty of opportunities for shouting alas! This
comes of that eagerness of yours to read novels day and night; your head
is so full of all kinds of nonsense about love, that you talk of God
much less than of Clelie. Throw into the fire all these mischievous
books, which are every day corrupting the minds of so many young people;
instead of such trumpery, read, as you ought to do, the Quatrains of
Pibrac and the learned memorandum-books of Councillor Matthieu,