Phyllis, deign to fill my glass; Give the draught an added charm. Which is fairer, wine or lass, Love for both my heart doth arm?-- In this hour supernal, Let us swear, while we can, For wine, woman, and man, A friendship eternal. Ruby-red, the blushing wine, Paints thy lips with brighter shade, While its colours softer shine Where thy glances fall, fair maid!-- While our youth is vernal, Let us swear, while we can, For wine, woman, and man, A friendship eternal. _Drinking Song_. Fill your glass, fill your glass, my friends, Let us drink, though time fly; We must live while we live, my friends, For time passes by. When we cross the waves of the river, Wine and love say farewell We must leave them behind for ever, So value them well. What though fools spend their time in thinking Of the true aim of life! Our philosophy lies in drinking, Not in wordy strife. And glory, wisdom, and wealth, Do not ease life of ill, But we find our pleasure and health As the wine-cup we fill. DORI. I never heard anything better sung, and all this is really beautiful. MR. JOUR. I see something still more beautiful here, Madam. DORI. Why, Mr. Jourdain, you are a greater flatterer than I should have thought. DOR. And for what, Madam, do you take Mr. Jourdain? MR. JOUR. I wish she would take me for what I could name. DORI. Again! DOR. (_to_ DORIMENE). You do not know him. MR. JOUR. But she will know me whenever it pleases her. DORI. Oh, I give up. DOR. He is a man always ready with an answer. But do you not see, Madam, that Mr. Jourdain eats all the pieces you have touched. DORI. Mr. Jourdain is a man I am charmed with. MR. JOUR. If I could only charm your heart, I should be.... SCENE II.--MRS. JOURDAIN, MR. JOURDAIN, DORIMENE, DORANTE, SINGERS, SERVANTS. MRS. JOUR. Ah! ah! I find charming company here, and I see clearly that I was not expected. It is for this fine piece of business, Sir, that you showed such anxiety to pack me off to my sister; was it? I have just seen a theatre down below, and here I find a banquet worthy of a wedding. That is the way you spend your money, and thus it is that you feast ladies in my absence, and give them music and the comedy, whilst you send me, trotting. DOR. What do you mean, Mrs. Jourdain, and what fancies are you taking into your head to go and imagine that your husband is spending his money and giving the dinner to this lady? I beg to tell you that he has only lent me his house, and that it is I who give this feast, and not he. You should be a little more cautious in what you say. MR. JOUR. Yes, rude woman that you are, it is the count who gives all that to this lady, who is a lady of rank. He does me the honour of making use of my house, and of wishing me to be with him. MRS. JOUR. All this is rubbish; I know what I know. DOR. Put on better spectacles, Mrs. Jourdain.