LEL. What are you whispering?
MASC. (Aside). Oh! the confounded blockhead. He is going to spoil everything, He understands not one of my signs.
LEL. You are dreaming, Leander. You are telling me a pretty story! Is he not my servant?
LEAND. Did you not discharge him from your service for some fault?
LEL. I do not know what this means.
LEAND. And did you not, in the violence of your passion, make his back smart most unmercifully?
LEL. No such thing. I discharge him! cudgel him! Either you make a jest of me, Leander, or he has been making a jest of you.
MASC. (Aside). Go on, go on, numskull; you will do your own business effectually.
LEAND. (To Mascarille). Then all this cudgelling is purely imaginary?
MASC. He does not know what he says; his memory…