In Racine's _Plaideurs_, act ii. scene vii., Pet.i.t Jean takes literally the demand of the judge for _epices_, and fetches the pepper-box to satisfy him.

ARG. Two hundred pistoles!

SCA. Yes, and you will save by it. I have made a small calculation in my head of all that justice costs, and I find that by giving two hundred pistoles to your man you will have a large margin left--say, at least a hundred and fifty pistoles--without taking into consideration the cares, troubles, and anxieties, which you will spare yourself. For were it only to avoid being before everybody the b.u.t.t of some facetious counsel, I had rather give three hundred pistoles than go to law. {Footnote: What would Moliere have said if he had been living now!}

ARG. I don't care for that, and I challenge all the lawyers to say anything against me.

SCA. You will do as you please, but in your place I would avoid a lawsuit.

ARG. I will never give two hundred pistoles.

SCA. Ah! here is our man.

SCENE IX.--ARGANTE, SCAPIN, SILVESTRE, _dressed out as a bravo_.

SIL. Scapin, show me that Argante who is the father of Octave.

SCA. What for, Sir?

SIL. I have just been told that he wants to go to law with me, and to have my sister's marriage annulled.

SCA. I don't know if such is his intention, but he won't consent to give the two hundred pistoles you asked; he says it's too much.

SIL. S'death! s'blood! If I can but find him, I'll make mince-meat of him, were I to be broken alive on the wheel afterwards.

(ARGANTE _hides, trembling, behind_ SCAPIN.)

SCA. Sir, the father of Octave is a brave man, and perhaps he will not be afraid of you.

SIL. Ah! will he not? S'blood! s'death! If he were here, I would in a moment run my sword through his body. (_Seeing_ ARGANTE.) Who is that man?

SCA. He's not the man, Sir; he's not the man.

SIL. Is he one of his friends?

SCA. No, Sir; on the contrary, he's his greatest enemy.

SIL. His greatest enemy?

SCA. Yes.

SIL. Ah! zounds! I am delighted at it. (_To_ ARGANTE) You are an enemy of that scoundrel Argante, are you?

SCA. Yes, yes; I a.s.sure you that it is so.

SIL. (_shaking_ ARGANTE'S _hand roughly_). Shake hands, shake hands. I give you my word, I swear upon my honour, by the sword I wear, by all the oaths I can take, that, before the day is over, I shall have delivered you of that rascally knave, of that scoundrel Argante. Trust me.

SCA. But, Sir, violent deeds are not allowed in this country.

SIL. I don't care, and I have nothing to lose.

SCA. He will certainly take his precautions; he has relations, friends, servants, who will take his part against you.

SIL. Blood and thunder! It is all I ask, all I ask. (_Drawing his sword_.) Ah! s'death! ah! s'blood! Why can I not meet him at this very moment, with all these relations and friends of his? If he would only appear before me, surrounded by a score of them! Why do they not fall upon me, arms in hand? (_Standing upon his guard_.) What!

you villains! you dare to attack me? Now, s'death! Kill and slay!

(_He lunges out on all sides; as if he were fighting many people at once_.) No quarter; lay on. Thrust. Firm. Again. Eye and foot. Ah!

knaves! ah! rascals! ah! you shall have a taste of it. I'll give you your fill. Come on, you rabble! come on. That's what you want, you there. You shall have your fill of it, I say. Stick to it, you brutes; stick to it. Now, then, parry; now, then, you. (_Turning towards_ ARGANTE and SCAPIN.) Parry this; parry. You draw back?

Stand firm, man! S'death! What! Never flinch, I say.

SCA. Sir, we have nothing to do with it.

SIL. That will teach you to trifle with me.

SCENE X.--ARGANTE, SCAPIN.

SCA. Well, Sir, you see how many people are killed for two hundred pistoles. Now I wish you a good morning.

ARG. (_all trembling_). Scapin.

SCA. What do you say?

ARG. I will give the two hundred pistoles.

SCA. I am very glad of it, for your sake.

ARG. Let us go to him; I have them with me.

SCA. Better give them to me. You must not, for your honour, appear in this business, now that you have pa.s.sed for another; and, besides, I should be afraid that he would ask you for more, if he knew who you are.

ARG. True; still I should be glad to see to whom I give my money.

SCA. Do you mistrust me then?

ARG. Oh no; but....

SCA. Zounds! Sir; either I am a thief or an honest man; one or the other. Do you think I would deceive you, and that in all this I have any other interest at heart than yours and that of my master, whom you want to take into your family? If I have not all your confidence, I will have no more to do with all this, and you can look out for somebody else to get you out of the mess.

ARG. Here then.

SCA. No, Sir; do not trust your money to me. I would rather you trusted another with your message.

ARG. Ah me! here, take it.