Phil. Indeed, Madam, I have been very diligent in my vocation; but you have so drained all the French plays and romances, that they are not able to supply you with words for your daily expence.
Mel. Drained? What a word's there! Epuisée, you sot you. Come, produce your morning's work.
Phil. 'Tis here, madam. [Shows the paper.
Mel. O, my Venus! fourteen or fifteen words to serve me a whole day! Let me die, at this rate I cannot last till night. Come, read your works: Twenty to one, half of them will not pass muster neither.
Phil. Sottises. [Reads.
Mel. Sottises: bon. That's an excellent word to begin withal; as, for example, he or she said a thousand sottises to me. Proceed.
Phil. Figure: As, what a figure of a man is there! Naive, and naiveté.
Mel. Naive! as how?
Phil. Speaking of a thing that was naturally said, it was so naive; or, such an innocent piece of simplicity 'twas such a naiveté.
Mel. Truce with your interpretations. Make haste.