_Die of love your beautiful eyes, fair Marchioness, make me_; or
else, _Me make your beautiful eyes die, fair Marchioness, of
love_.

MR. JOUR. But of all these ways, which is the best?

PROF. PHIL. The one you said: _Fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes
make me die of love_.

MR. JOUR. Yet I have never studied, and I did all that right off at
the first shot. I thank you with all my heart, and I beg of you to
come to-morrow morning early.

PROF. PHIL. I shall not fail.



SCENE VII.--MR. JOURDAIN, A SERVANT.

MR. JOUR. What? Has my suit of clothes not come yet?

SER. No, Sir.

MR. JOUR. That confounded tailor makes me wait a long time on a day
like this, when I have so much business to attend to. I am furious.
May the deuce fly away with the tailor! May the plague choke the
tailor! May the ague shake that brute of a tailor! If I had him here
now, that rascally tailor, that wretch of a tailor, I....