Ang. Ah! what a delightful surprise! Father, since heaven has given you back to our love, let me here throw myself at your feet to implore one favour of you. If you do not approve of what my heart feels, if you refuse to give me Cléante for a husband, I conjure you, at least, not to force me to marry another. It is all I have to ask of you.
Cle. (throwing himself at Argan’s feet). Ah! Sir, allow your heart to be touched by her entreaties and by mine, and do not oppose our mutual love.
Ber. Brother, how can you resist all this?
Toi. Will you remain insensible before such affection?
Arg. Well, let him become a doctor, and I will consent to the marriage. (To Cléante) Yes, turn doctor, Sir, and I will give you my daughter.
Cle. Very willingly, Sir, if it is all that is required to become your son-in-law. I will turn doctor; apothecary also, if you like. It is not such a difficult thing after all, and I would do much more to obtain from you the fair Angélique.
Ber. But, brother, it just strikes me; why don’t you turn doctor yourself? It would be much more convenient to have all you want within yourself.
Toi. Quite true. That is the very way to cure yourself. There is no disease bold enough to dare to attack the person of a doctor.
Arg. I imagine, brother, that you are laughing at me. Can I study at my age?
Ber. Study! What need is there? You are clever enough for that; there are a great many who are not a bit more clever than you are.