Philip Dwight Jones - The Middle-Cla** Gentleman (Act 3 Scene 10) lyrics

SCENE X (Cléonte, Lucile, Covielle, Nicole) NICOLE: For my part, I was completely shocked at it. LUCILE: It can only be, Nicole, what I told you. But there he is. CLÉONTE: I don't even want to speak to her. COVIELLE: I'll imitate you. LUCILE: What's the matter Cléonte? What's wrong with you? NICOLE: What's the matter with you, Covielle? LUCILE: What grief possesses you? NICOLE: What bad humor holds you? LUCILE: Are you mute, Cléonte? NICOLE: Have you lost your voice, Covielle? CLÉONTE: Is this not villainous! COVIELLE: It's a Judas! LUCILE: I clearly see that our recent meeting has troubled you. CLÉONTE: Ah! Ah! She sees what she's done. NICOLE: Our greeting this morning has annoyed you. COVIELLE: She has guessed the problem. LUCILE: Isn't it true, Cléonte, that this is the cause of your resentment? CLÉONTE: Yes, perfidious one, it is, since I must speak; and I must tell that you shall not triumph in your faithlessness as you think, I want to be the first to break with you, and you won't have the advantage of driving me away. I will have difficulty in conquering the love I have for you; it will cause me pain; I will suffer for a while. But I'll come through it, and I would rather stab myself through the heart than have the weakness to return to you. COVIELLE: Me too. LUCILE: What an uproar over nothing. I want to tell you, Cléonte, what made me avoid joining you this morning. CLÉONTE: No, I don't want to listen to anything . . . NICOLE: I want to tell you what made us pa** so quickly. COVIELLE: I don't want to hear anything. LUCILE: (Following Cléonte) Know that this morning . . . CLÉONTE: No, I tell you. NICOLE: (Following Covielle) Learn that . . . COVIELLE: No, traitor. LUCILE: Listen. CLÉONTE: I won't listen. NICOLE: Let me speak. COVIELLE: I'm deaf. LUCILE: Cléonte! CLÉONTE: No. NICOLE: Covielle! COVIELLE: I won't listen. LUCILE: Stop. CLÉONTE: Gibberish! NICOLE: Listen to me. COVIELLE: Rubbish! LUCILE: One moment. CLÉONTE: Never. NICOLE: A little patience. COVIELLE: Not interested! LUCILE: Two words. CLÉONTE: No, you've had them. NICOLE: One word. COVIELLE: No more talking. LUCILE: Alright! Since you don't want to listen to me, think what you like, and do what you want. NICOLE: Since you act like that, make whatever you like of it all. CLÉONTE: Let us know the reason, then, for such a fine reception. LUCILE: It no longer pleases me to say. COVIELLE: Let us know something of your story. NICOLE: I, myself, no longer want to tell you. CLÉONTE: Tell me . . . LUCILE: No, I don't want to say anything. COVIELLE: Tell it . . . NICOLE: No, I'll tell nothing. CLÉONTE: For pity . . . LUCILE: No, I say. COVIELLE: Have mercy. NICOLE: It's no use. CLÉONTE: I beg you. LUCILE: Leave me . . . COVIELLE: I plead with you. NICOLE: Get out of here. CLÉONTE: Lucile! LUCILE: No. COVIELLE: Nicole! NICOLE: Never. CLÉONTE: In the name of God! . . . LUCILE: I don't want to. COVIELLE: Talk to me. NICOLE: Definitely not. CLÉONTE: Clear up my doubts. LUCILE: No, I'll do nothing. COVIELLE: Relieve my mind! NICOLE: No, I don't care to. CLÉONTE: Alright! since you are so little concerned to take me out of my pain and to justify yourself for the shameful treatment you gave to my pa**ion, you are seeing me, ingrate, for the last time, and I am going far from you to die of sorrow and love. COVIELLE: And I -- I will follow in his steps. LUCILE: Cléonte! NICOLE: Covielle! CLÉONTE: What? COVIELLE: Yes? LUCILE: Where are you going? CLÉONTE: Where I told you. COVIELLE: We are going to die. LUCILE: You are going to die, Cléonte? CLÉONTE: Yes, cruel one, since you wish it. LUCILE: Me! I wish you to die? CLÉONTE: Yes, you wish it. LUCILE: Who told you that? CLÉONTE: Is it not wishing it when you don't wish to clear up my suspicions? LUCILE: Is it my fault? And, if you had wished to listen to me, would I not have told you that the incident you complain of was caused this morning by the presence of an old aunt who insists that the mere approach of a man dishonors a woman -- an aunt who constantly delivers sermons to us on this text, and tells us that all men are like devils we must flee? NICOLE: There's the key to the entire affair. CLÉONTE: Are you sure you're not deceiving me, Lucile? COVIELLE: Aren't you making this up? LUCILE: There's nothing more true. NICOLE: It's the absolute truth. COVIELLE: Are we going to give in to this? CLÉONTE: Ah! Lucile, how with a word from your lips you are able to appease the things in my heart, and how easily one allows himself to be persuaded by the people one loves! COVIELLE: How easily we are manipulated by these blasted minxes!