CL. Fie, do not call those men true lovers who are never violent in
their passion; those lukewarm gallants, whose tranquil hearts already
think everything quite sure, have no fear of losing us, and
overweeningly suffer their love to slumber day by day, are on good terms
with their rivals, and leave a free field for their perseverance. So
sedate a love incites my anger; to be without jealousy is to love
coldly. I would that a lover, in order to prove his flame, should have
his mind shaken by eternal suspicions, and, by sudden outbursts, show
clearly the value he sets upon her to whose hand he aspires. Then his
restlessness is applauded; and, if he sometimes treats us a little
roughly, the pleasure of seeing him, penitent at our feet, to excuse
himself for the outbreak of which he has been guilty, his tears, his
despair at having been capable of displeasing us, are a charm to soothe
all our anger.
OR. If much violence is necessary to please you, I know who would
satisfy you; I am acquainted with several men in Paris who love well
enough to beat their fair ones openly.
CL. If to please you, there must never be jealousy, I know several men
just suited to you; lovers of such enduring mood that they would see you
in the arms of thirty people without being concerned about it.
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