MASC. My heart surprise, that is, carries it away from me, robs me of it. Stop thief! stop thief! stop thief! Would you not think a man were shouting and running after a thief to catch him? Stop thief! stop thief! stop thief!
[Footnote: The scene of Mascarille reading his extempore verses is something like Trissotin in Les Femmes savantes (see vol. III.) reading his sonnet for the Princess Uranie. But Mascarille comments on the beauties of his verses with the insolent vanity of a man who does not pretend to have even one atom of modesty; Trissotin, a professional wit, listens in silence, but with secret pride, to the ridiculous exclamations of the admirers of his genius.]
MAD. I must admit the turn is witty and sprightly.
MASC. I will sing you the tune I made to it.
CAT. Have you learned music?
MASC. I? Not at all.
CAT. How can you make a tune then?
MASC. People of rank know everything without ever having learned anything.
MAD. His lordship is quite in the right, my dear.
MASC. Listen if you like the tune: hem, hem, la, la. The inclemency of the season has greatly injured the delicacy of my voice but no matter, it is in a free and easy way. (He sings). Oh! Oh! quite without heed was I, etc.