SCA. Hide yourself; here comes one of the bullies! He is looking for you. (_Altering his voice_.) {Footnote: All the parts within inverted commas are supposed to be spoken by the man Scapin is personating; the rest by himself.} "Vat! I shall not hab de pleasure to kill dis Géronte, and one vill not in sharity show me vere is he?" (_To_ GÉRONTE, _in his ordinary tone_) Do not stir. "Pardi! I vill find him if he lied in de mittle ob de eart" (_To_ GÉRONTE, _in his natural tone_) Do not show yourself. "Ho! you man vid a sack!" Sir! "I will give thee a pound if thou vilt tell me where dis Géronte is." You are looking for Mr. Géronte? "Yes, dat I am." And on what business, Sir? "For vat pusiness?" Yes. "I vill, pardi! trash him vid one stick to dead." Oh! Sir, people like him are not thrashed with sticks, and he is not a man to be treated so. "Vat! dis fob of a Géronte, dis prute, dis cat." Mr. Géronte, Sir, is neither a fop, a brute, nor a cad; and you ought, if you please, to speak differently. "Vat! you speak so mighty vit me?" I am defending, as I ought, an honourable man who is maligned. "Are you one friend of dis Géronte?" Yes, Sir, I am. "Ah, ah! You are one friend of him, dat is goot luck!" (_Beating the sack several times with the stick_.) "Here is vat I give you for him." (_Calling out as if he received the beating_) Ah! ah! ah! ah! Sir. Ah! ah! Sir, gently! Ah! pray. Ah! ah! ah! "Dere, bear him dat from me. Goot-pye." Ah! the wretch. Ah!...ah! GER. (_looking out_). Ah! Scapin, I can bear it no longer. SCA. Ah! Sir, I am bruised all over, and my shoulders are as sore as can be. GER. How! It was on mine he laid his stick. SCA. I beg your pardon, Sir, it was on my back. GER. What do you mean? I am sure I felt the blows, and feel them still. SCA. No, I tell you; it was only the end of his stick that reached your shoulders. GER. You should have gone a little farther back, then, to spare me, and....