MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: You will see me fitted out properly, from head to foot. MUSIC MASTER: We have no doubt of it. MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: I had this robe made for me. DANCING MASTER: It's very attractive. MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: My tailor told me the people of quality dress like this in the mornings. MUSIC MASTER: It's marvelously becoming. MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: Hey lackeys! My two lackeys! FIRST LACKEY: What do you wish, Sir? MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: Nothing. I just wanted to see if you were paying attention. (To the two masters) What say you of my liveries? DANCING MASTER: They're magnificent. MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: (Half opening his gown, showing a pair of tight red velvet breeches, and a green velvet vest, that he is wearing) Here again is a sort of lounging dress to perform my morning exercises in. MUSIC MASTER: It is elegant. MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: Lackey! FIRST LACKEY: Sir? MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: The other lackey! SECOND LACKEY: Sir? MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: Hold my robe. (To the Masters) Do you think I look good? DANCING MASTER: Very well. No one could look better. MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: Now let's have a look at your little show. MUSIC MASTER: I would like very much for you to listen to a melody he (indicating his student) has just composed for the serenade that you ordered from me. He's one of my pupils who has an admirable talent for these kinds of things. MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: Yes, but you should not have had that done by a pupil; you yourself were none too good for that piece of work. MUSIC MASTER: You must not let the name of pupil fool you, sir. Pupils of this sort know as much as the greatest masters, and the melody is as fine as could be made. Just listen. MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: (To Lackeys) Give me my robe so I can listen better... Wait, I believe I would be better without a robe... No, give it back, that will be better. MUSICIAN: (Singing) I languish night and day, my suffering is extreme Since to your control your lovely eyes subjected me; If you thus treat, fair Iris, those you love, Alas, how would you treat an enemy? MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: This song seems to me a little mournful, it lulls to sleep, and I would like it if you could liven it up a little, here and there. MUSIC MASTER: It is necessary, Sir, that the tune be suited to the words. MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: Someone taught me a perfectly pretty one some time ago. Listen... Now... how does it go? DANCING MASTER: By my faith, I don't know. MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: There are sheep in it. DANCING MASTER: Sheep? MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: Yes. Ah! (He sings) I thought my Jeanneton As beautiful as sweet; I thought my Jeanneton Far sweeter than a sheep. Alas! Alas! She is a hundred times, A thousand times, more cruel Than tigers in the woods! Isn't it pretty? MUSIC MASTER: The prettiest in the world. DANCING MASTER: And you sing it well. MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: It's without having learned music.