M. Jourdain. What! when I say, “Nicole, bring me my slippers, and give me my night-cap,” is that prose?
Professor of Philosophy. Yes, sir.
M. Jourdain. Upon my word, I have been talking prose these forty years without being aware of it! I am under the greatest obligation to you for informing me. Well, then, I wish to write to her in a letter, Fair marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of love! but I would have this worded in a genteel manner, and turned prettily.
Professor of Philosophy. Say that the fire of her eyes has reduced your heart to ashes; that you suffer day and night for her tortures——
M. Jourdain. No, no, no; I don’t want any of that. I simply wish to say what I tell you: Fair marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of love.
Professor of Philosophy. Still, you might amplify the thing a little?
M. Jourdain. No, I tell you, I will have nothing but those very words in the letter; but they must be put in a fashionable way, and arranged as they should be. Pray explain a little, so that I may see the different ways in which they can be put.
Professor of Philosophy. They may be put, first of all, as you have said, Fair marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of love; or else, Of love die make me, fair marchioness, your beautiful eyes; or, Your beautiful eyes of love make me, fair marchioness, die; or, Die of love your beautiful eyes, fair marchioness, make me; or else, Me make your beautiful eyes die, fair marchioness, of love.
M. Jourdain. But of all these ways, which is the best?
Professor of Philosophy. The one you said—Fair marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of love.