Valere. Gossip is singing a little ditty, My dear,--news to me and very pretty. Mariane. What? Valere. That you will marry Tartuffe. Mariane. It's true That my father has such a plan in view. Valere. Your father . . . Mariane. Has altered his inclination. Through him, all this has come to my attention. Valere. What? Seriously? Mariane. Yes, seriously. He wants this wedding--quite decidedly! Valere. And how does your heart respond to this plan, Madam? Mariane. I don't know. Valere. Your response is plain. You don't know? Mariane. No. Valere. No? Mariane. What do you recommend? Valere. I recommend that you accept this husband. Mariane. You recommend that? Valere. Yes. Mariane. Really? Valere. I do. A wonderful choice, well worth attending to. Mariane. Very well! That's advice, sir, that I accept. Valere. I doubt that taking it causes you regret. Mariane. No more regret than giving it causes you. Valere. I gave it thinking pleasure would ensue. Mariane. And I, I'll take it--simply to please you. Dorine [moving upstage]. Let's see what comes of this hullabaloo. Valere. So that's your love for me? And did you lie When you . . . Mariane. Please, let's not speak of days gone by. You've told me quite plainly that I must embrace As my mate the man they've chosen for that place, And now I say that I promise to obey Since you so kindly advise me that way. Valere. Don't excuse yourself through circumlocution: You've already made your own resolution, And you've seized upon a frivolous excuse To justify this lamentable ruse. Mariane. Quite true and well said. Valere. No doubt, and your soul Never lost, for love of me, its self-control. Mariane. Alas! Alas! You may as well think so. Valere. Yes, I may think so, but my broken heart Foresees you, too, suffering from Love's dart; I know to whom I'll take my heart and hand. Mariane. No doubt, and the love that merit can command... Valere. Dear God, let's leave merit to one side. I haven't much of it, as you have signified, But I know where there's a woman, soft-eyed And open-hearted . . . and this double-cross May make her more inclined to recompense my loss. Mariane. The loss isn't great; and your fickleness Will soon lead you to find a new mistress. Valere. I'll do my best--of that you may be sure! When one is forgotten, it's hard to endure, And so I, too, must struggle to forget. If I can't do it, I'll fake it . . .