Mylio—"Accordingly, you are informed that my friend Goose-Skin, whom I hereby introduce to you, is a gourmand, likes his cups a little—or, rather, a good deal—"

Goose-Skin—"I! Just heavens!"

Mylio—"He is also somewhat of a fibber, a roysterer, not over bold, considerable of a libertine and a braggart—that is his portrait from the side of his morals!"

Goose-Skin (with a contrite air)—"Oh! Respectable host and hostess! Do not believe that wicked jester! All that he has just told you is false!"

Mylio—"After this confession that modesty alone kept back from my friend's lips, I shall add: But he has a good heart, he shares his crust of bread with whomsoever is hungry, and his pot of wine with whomsoever is thirsty. Finally, he has given me proofs of affection that I shall not forget in all my life. (Addressing Goose-Skin more particularly) This being said, my good Goose-Skin, my friends and myself must now request you not to have the word 'virtue' constantly on your lips, and, instead of lowering your eyes, of keeping yourself under constraint, of puckering your lips with an air of piety, allow your broad smile to spread freely over your wide countenance, and, should it please you, even to sing, full throated, whatever is your favorite song. Nobody will be angry about it."

Karvel (to Goose-Skin, who heaves a sigh of relief, and whose face seems slowly to dilate)—"My brother has interpreted our thoughts. So, then, dear guest, no more constraint. Return to your natural good spirits. We heartily love a hearty laugh. Do you know why? Because a false or wicked heart never is frankly joyous. Moreover, we believe that much should be pardoned to those who have remained good; they will become better. You are of the former, dear guest. We welcome you. We shall love you as you are, and, jolly friend, love us as we are."

Goose-Skin (wholly himself again)—"Oh! Dame Virtue, I bow to you—"

Mylio (interrupting him)—"How is that? Still affecting sanctity?"

Goose-Skin—"Oh! Dame Virtue! You muffle yourself up in an unseemly cloak. With a suspicious eye, foaming mouth and twisted neck you harass people in the voice of an owl in love, saying: 'This way! Come immediately this way, you lumbering scamp! You sack of wine! You pig of gluttony! You brick of lasciviousness! You hare of cowardice! This way! Be quick about it and adore me, serve me! Woo me! And if you do not, I shall strangle you, vagabond! Green dog! Red donkey! Triple mule!' And do you wonder, sweet lady, that people take their paunches between their hands in order that they may be able to run all the faster, and escape from your gracious invitation?"

Morise (to Karvel, smiling)—"He is right!"