But there he is.
CLEONTE: I don't even want to speak to her.
COVIELLE: I'll imitate you.
LUCILE: What's the matter Cleonte? 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, Cleonte?
NICOLE: Have you lost your voice, Covielle?
CLEONTE: Is this not villainous!
COVIELLE: It's a Judas!
LUCILE: I clearly see that our recent meeting has troubled you.
CLEONTE: 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, Cleonte, that this is the cause of your
resentment?
CLEONTE: 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, Cleonte,
what made me avoid joining you this morning.
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