MRS. JOUR. I can do very well without your friendship.
DOR. You see that your daughter yields to her father's will.
MRS. JOUR. My daughter consents to marry a Turk?
DOR. Certainly.
MRS. JOUR. She can forget Cléonte?
DOR. What will not one do to be a grand lady?
MRS. JOUR. I would strangle her with my own hands if she had done such a thing.
MR. JOUR. Too much prating by half! I tell you the marriage shall take place.
MRS. JOUR. And I tell you that it shan't.
MR. JOUR. Ah! what a row!