MR. JOUR. I say there, our servant Nicole; you have a pretty sharp tongue of your own for a country wench.
MRS. JOUR. Nicole is right, and she has more sense by far than you have. I should like to know, for instance, what you mean to do with a dancing master at your age?
NIC. And with that big fencing master, who comes here stamping enough to shake the whole house down and to tear up the floor tiles of our rooms.
MR. JOUR. Gently, my servant and my wife.
MRS. JOUR. Do you mean to learn dancing for the time when you can't stand on your legs any longer?
NIC. Do you intend to kill anybody?
MR. JOUR. Hold your tongues, I say. You are only ignorant women, both of you, and understand nothing concerning the prerogative of all this.
MRS. JOUR. You would do much better to think of seeing your daughter married, for she is now of an age to be provided for.
MR. JOUR. I shall think of seeing my daughter married when a suitable match presents itself; but, in the meantime, I wish to think of acquiring fine learning.
NIC. I have heard say also, mistress, that, to go the whole hog, he has now taken a professor of philosophy.