No More Learning

GERONTE: It----

LUCINDE: My heart cannot submit to such a tyranny.

GERONTE: There----

LUCINDE: And I will sooner throw myself into a convent
than marry a man I don't love.

GERONTE: But----

LUCINDE (_speaking in deafening tone of voice_): It
is no use. You waste your time. I will not do anything
of the kind. I am resolved.

GERONTE: Ah! What a wildness of speech! I beg
you, monsieur, to make her dumb again.

SGANARELLE: That is impossible. All that I can do
for you is to make you deaf, if you like.

GERONTE: You shall marry Horace this very evening.

LUCINDE: I will sooner marry death.

SGANARELLE: Let me take this disease in hand. It
is a complaint that has got hold of her, and I know the
remedy to apply.
GERONTE: Is it possible that you can cure this mental
malady also?

SGANARELLE: Yes; let me manage it. I have remedies
for everything, and our apothecary is the man for
this cure. (_He calls the apothecary, and speaks to him_. )
You see that the passion she has for this Leandre is quite
against the wishes of her father, and that it is necessary
to find a prompt remedy for the evil, which will only
become worse by delay. For my part, I see but one
remedy, a dose of purgative flight suitably mixed with
two drachms of matrimony in pills. Go and take a little
turn in the garden with her to prepare the humours,
while I talk here with her father; but, above all, lose
no time. Apply the remedy at once--apply the specific
remedy.

[_Exeunt_ LEANDRE _and_ LUCINDE. _Enter_ LUCAS _and_
MARTINE.

LUCAS: Your daughter has run away with Leandre.
He was the apothecary, and this is the doctor who has
performed the operation.

GERONTE: Quick, fetch the police, and prevent him
from going off! Oh, traitor, I will have you punished
by law.

LUCAS: You shall hang for this, doctor! Don't stir a
step from here!