MUSIC MASTER: See the self-importance of the man!
FENCING MASTER: My little Dancing Master, I'll make you dance as you ought. And you, my little musician, I'll make you sing in a pretty way.
DANCING MASTER: Monsieur Clanger-of-iron, I'll teach you your trade.
MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: (To the Dancing Master) Are you crazy to quarrel with him, who knows tierce and quarte, and who can kill a man by demonstration?
DANCING MASTER: I disdain his demonstrations, and his tierce, and his quarte.
MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: Careful, I tell you.
FENCING MASTER: What? You little impertinent!
MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: Oh! My Fencing Master.
DANCING MASTER: What? You big workhorse!
MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: Oh! My Dancing Master.