JAC. Since you wish it, Sir, I will tell you frankly that you are the laughing-stock of everybody; that they taunt us everywhere by a thousand jokes on your account, and that nothing delights people more than to make sport of you, and to tell stories without end about your stinginess. One says that you have special almanacks printed, where you double the ember days and vigils, so that you may profit by the fasts to which you bind all your house; another, that you always have a ready-made quarrel for your servants at Christmas time or when they leave you, so that you may give them nothing. One tells a story how not long since you prosecuted a neighbour's cat because it had eaten up the remainder of a leg of mutton; another says that one night you were caught stealing your horses' oats, and that your coachman,--that is the man who was before me,--gave you, in the dark, a good sound drubbing, of which you said nothing. In short, what is the use of going on? We can go nowhere but we are sure to hear you pulled to pieces. You are the butt and jest and byword of everybody; and never does anyone mention you but under the names of miser, stingy, mean, niggardly fellow and usurer. HAR. (_beating_ JACQUES). You are a fool, a rascal, a scoundrel, and an impertinent wretch. JAC. There, there! Did not I know how it would be? You would not believe me. I told you I should make you angry if I spoke the truth? HAR. Learn how to speak. SCENE VI.--VALÈRE, MASTER JACQUES. VAL. (_laughing_). Well, Master Jacques, your frankness is badly rewarded, I fear. JAC. S'death! Mr. Upstart, you who assume the man of consequence, it is no business of yours as far as I can see. Laugh at your own cudgelling when you get it, and don't come here and laugh at mine. VAL. Ah! Master Jacques, don't get into a passion, I beg of you. JAC. (_aside_). He is drawing in his horns. I will put on a bold face, and if he is fool enough to be afraid of me, I will pay him back somewhat. (_To_ VALÈRE) Do you know, Mr. Grinner, that I am not exactly in a laughing humour, and that if you provoke me too much, I shall make you laugh after another fashion. (JACQUES _pushes_ VALÈRE _to the farther end of the stage, threatening him_.) VAL. Gently, gently. JAC. How gently? And if it does not please me to go gently? VAL. Come, come! What are you about? JAC. You are an impudent rascal. VAL. Master Jacques.... JAC. None of your Master Jacques here! If I take up a stick, I shall soon make you feel it. VAL. What do you mean by a stick? (_Drives back_ JACQUES _in his turn_.) JAC. No; I don't say anything about that. VAL. Do you know, Mr. Conceit, that I am a man to give you a drubbing in good earnest? JAC. I have no doubt of it. VAL. That, after all, you are nothing but a scrub of a cook? JAC. I know it very well. VAL. And that you don't know me yet? JAC. I beg your pardon. VAL. You will beat me, you say? JAC. I only spoke in jest.