Phil. But do you, like me, thoroughly understand the wit of it?
Arm. and Bél. Oh! Oh!
Phil. Drive forth that foe, whate’er men say.
Although another should take the fever’s part, pay no attention; laugh at the gossips.
| Drive forth that foe, whate’er men say, Whate’er men say, whate’er men say. |
This whate’er men say, says a great deal more than it seems. I do not know if every one is like me, but I discover in it a hundred meanings.
Bél. It is true that it says more than its size seems to imply.
Phil. (to Trissotin.) But when you wrote this charming whate’er men say, did you yourself understand all its energy? Did you realize all it tells us? And did you then think that you were writing something so witty?
Triss. Ah! ah!
Arm. I have likewise the ingrate in my head—this ungrateful, unjust, uncivil fever that ill-treats people who entertain her.