The Impostures of Scapin | Page 9

sake, don't think of that now, but try to give me
the help I ask.
OCT. Scapin, you must do something to help him.
SCA. How can I after such abuse?
LEA. I beseech you to forget my outburst of temper, and to make use
of your skill for me.
OCT. I add my entreaties to his.
SCA. I cannot forget such an insult.
OCT. You must not give way to resentment, Scapin.
LEA. Could you forsake me, Scapin, in this cruel extremity?
SCA. To come all of a sudden and insult me like that.
LEA. I was wrong, I acknowledge.

SCA. To call me scoundrel, knave, infamous wretch!
LEA. I am really very sorry.
SCA. To wish to send your sword through my body!
LEA. I ask you to forgive me, with all my heart; and if you want to see
me at your feet, I beseech you, kneeling, not to give me up.
OCT. Scapin, you cannot resist that?
SCA. Well, get up, and another time remember not to be so hasty.
LEA. Will you try to act for me?
SCA. I will see.
LEA. But you know that time presses.
SCA. Don't be anxious. How much is it you want?
LEA. Five hundred crowns.
SCA. You?
OCT. Two hundred pistoles.
SCA. I must extract this money from your respective fathers' pockets.
(To OCTAVE) As far as yours is concerned, my plan is all ready. (To
LÉANDRE) And as for yours, although he is the greatest miser
imaginable, we shall find it easier still; for you know that he is not
blessed with too much intellect, and I look upon him as a man who will
believe anything. This cannot offend you; there is not a suspicion of a
resemblance between him and you; and you know what the world
thinks, that he is your father only in name.
LEA. Gently, Scapin.
SCA. Besides, what does it matter? But, Mr. Octave, I see your father
coming. Let us begin by him, since he is the first to cross our path.
Vanish both of you; (to OCTAVE) and you, please, tell Silvestre to
come quickly, and take his part in the affair.

SCENE VIII.--ARGANTE, SCAPIN.
SCA. (_aside_). Here he is, turning it over in his mind.
ARG. (_thinking himself alone_). Such behaviour and such lack of
consideration! To entangle himself in an engagement like that! Ah!
rash youth.
SCA. Your servant, Sir.
ARG. Good morning, Scapin.
SCA. You are thinking of your son's conduct.
ARG. Yes, I acknowledge that it grieves me deeply.

SCA. Ah! Sir, life is full of troubles; and we should always be prepared
for them. I was told, a long time ago, the saying of an ancient
philosopher which I have never forgotten.
ARG. What was it?
SCA. That if the father of a family has been away from home for ever
so short a time, he ought to dwell upon all the sad news that may greet
him on his return. He ought to fancy his house burnt down, his money
stolen, his wife dead, his son married, his daughter ruined; and be very
thankful for whatever falls short of all this. In my small way of
philosophy, I have ever taken this lesson to heart; and I never come
home but I expect to have to bear with the anger of my masters, their
scoldings, insults, kicks, blows, and horse-whipping. And I always
thank my destiny for whatever I do not receive.
ARG. That's all very well; but this rash marriage is more than I can put
up with, and it forces me to break off the match I had intended for my
son. I have come from my solicitor's to see if we can cancel it.
SCA. Well, Sir, if you will take my advice, you will look to some other
way of settling this business. You know what a law-suit means in this
country, and you'll find yourself in the midst of a strange bush of
thorns.
ARG. I am fully aware that you are quite right; but what else can I do?
SCA. I think I have found something that will answer much better. The
sorrow that I felt for you made me rummage in my head to find some
means of getting you out of trouble; for I cannot bear to see kind
fathers a prey to grief without feeling sad about it, and, besides, I have
at all times had the greatest regard for you.
ARG. I am much obliged to you.
SCA. Then you must know that I went to the brother of the young girl
whom your son has married. He is one of those fire-eaters, one of those
men all sword-thrusts, who speak of nothing but fighting, and who
think no more of killing a man