Isn't it true, Cléonte, that this is the cause of your
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.
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 passion, you are seeing me, ingrate, for the last time, and I am
going far from you to die of sorrow and love.
Is it not wishing it when you don't wish to clear up
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?