Must thy dear eyes, to which I yield my arms, From my sad sighs draw wanton pleasure still? Is't not enough to suffer for thy charms That I must grieve at thy capricious will? This double martyrdom a pain affords Too keen to bear at once; thy deeds, thy words, Work on my wasting heart a cruel doom, Love bids it burn; constraint its life doth chill. If pity soften not thy wayward will, Love, feigned and real, will lead me to the tomb." JU. I see that you make yourself out much more ill-used than you need; but it is the way with you poets to tell falsehoods in cold blood, and to pretend that those you love are much more cruel than they are, in order to make them correspond to the fancies you may take into your heads. Yet, I should like you, if you will, to give me those verses in writing. VISC. No, it is enough that I have repeated them to you, and I ought to stop there. A man may be foolish enough to make verses, but that is different from giving them to others. JU. It is in vain for you to affect a false modesty; your wit is well known, and I do not see why you should hide what you write. VISC. Ah! we must tread here with the greatest circumspection. It is a dangerous thing to set up for a wit. There is inherent to it a certain touch of absurdity which is catching, and we should be warned by the example of some of our friends. JU. Nonsense, Cléante; I see that, in spite of all you say, you are longing to give me your verses; and I feel sure that you would be very unhappy if I pretended not to care for them. VISC. I unhappy? Oh! dear no, I am not so much of a poet for you to think that I ... but here is the Countess of Escarbagnas; I'll go by this door, so as not to meet her, and will see that everything is got ready for the play I have promised you. SCENE II.--THE COUNTESS, JULIA; ANDRÉE and CRIQUET _in the background_. COUN. What, Madam, are you alone? Ah! what a shame! All alone! I thought my people had told me that the Viscount was here. JU. It is true that he came, but it was sufficient for him to know that you were not at home; he would not stop after that. COUN. What! did he see you? JU. Yes. COUN. And did he not stop to talk with you? JU. No, Madam; he wished to show you how very much he is struck by your charms. COUN. Still, I shall call him to account for that. However much any one may be in love with me, I wish them to pay to our sex the homage that is due to it. I am not one of those unjust women who approve of the rudeness their lovers display towards other fair ones. JU. You must in no way be surprised at his conduct. The love he has for you shows itself in all his actions, and prevents him from caring for anybody but you.