LUCAS: Your
daughter
has run away with Leandre.
World's Greatest Books - Volume 17 - Poetry and Drama
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!
[_Re-enter_ LEANDRE _and_ LUCINDE.
LEANDRE: Monsieur, I appear before you as Leandre,
and to restore Lucinde to your authority. We intended
to go off and to get married, but this undertaking has
given place to a more honourable proceeding. It is only
from your hands that I will receive Lucinde. I have
to tell you, monsieur, that I have just received letters
from which I learn that my uncle is dead, and that I am
the heir to all his property.
GERONTE: Monsieur, your virtue merits every consideration,
and I give you my daughter with the greatest
pleasure in the world.
SGANARELLE: Physic has had a narrow escape.
MARTINE: Since you are not going to be hanged, you
may thank me for making you a doctor. It was I who
gained you that honour.
SGANARELLE: I forgive you the beating because of the
dignity to which you have raised me, but be prepared
henceforth to show great respect towards a man of my
consequence; and remember that a doctor's anger is
more to be feared than folk imagine.
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!
[_Re-enter_ LEANDRE _and_ LUCINDE.
LEANDRE: Monsieur, I appear before you as Leandre,
and to restore Lucinde to your authority. We intended
to go off and to get married, but this undertaking has
given place to a more honourable proceeding. It is only
from your hands that I will receive Lucinde. I have
to tell you, monsieur, that I have just received letters
from which I learn that my uncle is dead, and that I am
the heir to all his property.
GERONTE: Monsieur, your virtue merits every consideration,
and I give you my daughter with the greatest
pleasure in the world.
SGANARELLE: Physic has had a narrow escape.
MARTINE: Since you are not going to be hanged, you
may thank me for making you a doctor. It was I who
gained you that honour.
SGANARELLE: I forgive you the beating because of the
dignity to which you have raised me, but be prepared
henceforth to show great respect towards a man of my
consequence; and remember that a doctor's anger is
more to be feared than folk imagine.
