PROF. PHIL. They may be put, first of all, as you have said, _Fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of love_; or else, _Of love die make me, fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes_; or, _Your beautiful eyes of love make me, fair Marchioness, die_; or, _Die of love your beautiful eyes, fair Marchioness, make me_; or else, _Me make your beautiful eyes die, fair Marchioness, of love_. MR. JOUR. But of all these ways, which is the best? PROF. PHIL. The one you said: _Fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of love_. MR. JOUR. Yet I have never studied, and I did all that right off at the first shot. I thank you with all my heart, and I beg of you to come to-morrow morning early. PROF. PHIL. I shall not fail. SCENE VII.--MR. JOURDAIN, A SERVANT. MR. JOUR. What? Has my suit of clothes not come yet? SER. No, Sir. MR. JOUR. That confounded tailor makes me wait a long time on a day like this, when I have so much business to attend to. I am furious. May the deuce fly away with the tailor! May the plague choke the tailor! May the ague shake that brute of a tailor! If I had him here now, that rascally tailor, that wretch of a tailor, I.... SCENE VIII.--MR. JOURDAIN, THE MASTER TAILOR, AN ASSISTANT TAILOR (_bringing a suit of clothes for_ MR. JOURDAIN), A SERVANT. MR. JOUR. Ha! here you are. I was just on the point of getting angry with you. TAIL. I could not come sooner, although I set twenty people to work at your coat. MR. JOUR. You have sent me such a small pair of silk stockings that I had no end of trouble to put them on, and two of the stitches are broken already. TAIL. They are pretty sure to become only too large. MR. JOUR. No doubt, if I keep on breaking the stitches. You also sent me a pair of shoes that hurt me horribly. TAIL. Not at all, Sir. MR. JOUR. How! not at all? TAIL. No; they do not hurt you at all. MR. JOUR. I tell you they do hurt me. TAIL. You fancy so. MR. JOUR. I fancy so because I feel it to be so. Did any one ever hear such an argument! TAIL. See, we have the most beautiful and the best matched suit in the whole court. It is a work of art to have discovered a sober suit of clothes not black; and I bet that the most skilful tailors would not do as much after half a dozen trials. MR. JOUR. Why, what does this mean? You have put all the flowers upside down. TAIL. You did not tell me you wished to have them the other way up. MR. JOUR. Was it necessary to say that? TAIL. Yes, certainly; for all the people of quality wear them in this way. MR. JOUR. All people of quality wear the flowers bottom upwards? TAIL. Yes, Sir. MR. JOUR. Oh, then it's all right. TAIL. If you wish it, I will put them the other way up. MR. JOUR. No, no. TAIL. You have only to say so. MR. JOUR. No, no. I tell you that you have done right. Do you think my clothes fit me well?