"Moliere says so, and Moliere is a judge of it; he declares he has himself made a hundred thousand verses."
"Come," said Moliere, laughing, "he is off now."
"It is like rivage, which rhymes admirably with herbage. I would take my oath of it."
"But—" said Moliere.
"I tell you all this," continued La Fontaine, "because you are preparing a divertissement for Vaux, are you not?"
"Yes, the 'Facheux.'"
"Ah, yes, the 'Facheux;' yes, I recollect. Well, I was thinking a prologue would admirably suit your divertissement."
"Doubtless it would suit capitally."
"Ah! you are of my opinion?"
"So much so, that I ask you to write this prologue."