MR. JOUR. What! When I say, "Nicole, bring me my slippers, and give me
my night-cap," is that prose?

PROF. PHIL. Yes, Sir.

MR. JOUR. Upon my word, I have been speaking prose these forty years
without being aware of it; and I am under the greatest obligation to
you for informing me of it. Well, then, I wish to write to her in a
letter, _Fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of
love_; but I would have this worded in a genteel manner, and turned
prettily.

PROF. PHIL. Say that the fire of her eyes has reduced your heart to
ashes; that you suffer day and night for her tortures....

MR. JOUR. No, no, no; I don't want any of that. I simply wish for what
I tell you. _Fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of
love_.

PROF. PHIL. Still, you might amplify the thing a little?

MR. JOUR. No, I tell you, I will have nothing but those very words in
the letter; but they must be put in a fashionable way, and arranged as
they should be. Pray show me a little, so that I may see the different
ways in which they can be put.

PROF. PHIL. They may be put, first of all, as you have said, _Fair
Marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of love_; or else,
_Of love die make me, fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes_; or,
_Your beautiful eyes of love make me, fair Marchioness, die_; or,