OR. I see a gentleman here who is not ignorant; he will be able to judge of our dispute. Marquis, a word, I beg of you. Allow us to ask you to decide in a quarrel between us two; we had a discussion arising from our different opinions, as to what may distinguish the most perfect lovers. ER. That is a question difficult to settle; you had best look for a more skilful judge. OR. No: you speak to no purpose. Your wit is much commended; and we know you. We know that everyone, with justice, gives you the character of a... ER. Oh, I beseech you ... OR. In a word, you shall be our umpire, and you must spare us a couple of minutes. CL. (_To Orante_). Now you are retaining one who must condemn you: for, to be brief, if what I venture to hold be true, this gentleman will give the victory to my arguments. ER. (_Aside_). Would that I could get hold of any rascal to invent something to get me off! OR. (_To Climène_). For my part, I am too much assured of his sense to fear that he will decide against me. (_To Éraste_). Well, this great contest which rages between us is to know whether a lover should be jealous. CL. Or, the better to explain my opinion and yours, which ought to please most, a jealous man or one that is not so? OR. For my part, I am clearly for the last. CL. As for me, I stand up for the first. OR. I believe that our heart must declare for him who best displays his respect. CL. And I that, if our sentiments are to be shewn, it ought to be for him who makes his love most apparent. OR. Yes; but we perceive the ardour of a lover much better through respect than through jealousy. CL. It is my opinion that he who is attached to us, loves us the more that he shows himself jealous? OR. Fie, Climène, do not call lovers those men whose love is like hatred, and who, instead of showing their respect and their ardour, give themselves no thought save how to become wearisome; whose minds, being ever prompted by some gloomy passion, seek to make a crime out of the slightest actions, are too blind to believe them innocent, and demand an explanation for a glance; who, if we seem a little sad, at once complain that their presence is the cause of it, and when the least joy sparkles in our eyes, will have their rivals to be at the bottom of it; who, in short, assuming a right because they are greatly in love, never speak to us save to pick a quarrel, dare to forbid anyone to approach us, and become the tyrants of their very conquerors. As for me, I want lovers to be respectful; their submission is a sure proof of our sway.