Cle. I shall keep to it.
Jac. (to Cléante). What! to your father?
Har. Let me do it.
Jac. (to Harpagon). What! to your son? To me it's different.
Har. I will make you judge between us, Master Jacques, so that you may see that I have right on my side.
Jac. Willingly. (To Cléante) Go a little farther back.
Har. There is a young girl I love and want to marry, and the scoundrel has the impudence to love her also, and wants to marry her in spite of me.
Jac. Oh! he is wrong.
Har. Is it not an abominable thing to see a son who does not shrink from becoming the rival of his father? And is it not his bounden duty to refrain from interfering with my love?
Jac. You are quite right; stop here, and let me go and speak to him.