SCENE II (Fencing Master, Music Master, Dancing Master, Monsier Jourdain, a Lackey)

FENCING MASTER:
(After giving a foil to Monsieur Jourdain) Come, sir, the salute. Your body straight. A little inclined upon the left thigh. Your legs not so wide apart. Your feet both in a line. Your wrist opposite your hip. The point of your sword even with your shoulder. The arm not so much extended. The left hand at the level of the eye. The left shoulder more squared. The head up. The expression bold. Advance. The body steady. Beat carte, and thrust. One, two. Recover. Again, with the foot firm. Leap back. When you make a pass, Sir, you must first disengage, and your body must be well turned. One, two. Come, beat tierce and thrust. Advance. Stop there. One, two. Recover. Repeat. Leap back. On guard, Sir, on guard. (The fencing master touches him two or three times with the foil while saying, "On guard." )

MONSIEUR JOURDAIN:
How was that? (Breathlessly)

MUSIC MASTER:
You did marvelously!

FENCING MASTER:
As I have told you, the entire secret of fencing lies in two things: to give and not to receive; and as I demonstrated to you the other day, it is impossible for you to receive, if you know how to turn your opponent's sword from the line of your body. This depends solely on a slight movement of the wrist, either inward or outward.

MONSIEUR JOURDAIN:
In this way then, a man, without courage, is sure to kill his man and not be killed himself?

FENCING MASTER:
Without doubt. Didn't you see the demonstration?

MONSIEUR JOURDAIN:
Yes.

FENCING MASTER:
And thus you have seen how men like me should be considered by the State, and how the science of fencing is more important than all the other useless sciences, such as dancing, music, ...
DANCING MASTER:
Careful there, Monsieur swordsman! Speak of the dance only with respect.

MUSIC MASTER:
I beg you to speak better of the excellence of music.

FENCING MASTER:
You are amusing fellows, to want to compare your sciences with mine!

MUSIC MASTER:
See the self-importance of the man!

FENCING MASTER:
My little Dancing Master, I'll make you dance as you ought. And you, my little musician, I'll make you sing in a pretty way.

DANCING MASTER:
Monsieur Clanger-of-iron, I'll teach you your trade.

MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: (To the Dancing Master) Are you crazy to quarrel with him, who knows tierce and quarte, and who can kill a man by demonstration?

DANCING MASTER:
I disdain his demonstrations, and his tierce, and his quarte.

MONSIEUR JOURDAIN:
Careful, I tell you.
FENCING MASTER:
What? You little impertinent!

MONSIEUR JOURDAIN:
Oh! My Fencing Master.

DANCING MASTER:
What? You big workhorse!

MONSIEUR JOURDAIN:
Oh! My Dancing Master.

FENCING MASTER:
If I throw myself on you ...

MONSIEUR JOURDAIN:
Careful.

DANCING MASTER:
If I get my hands on you ...

MONSIEUR JOURDAIN:
Be nice!

FENCING MASTER:
I'll go over you with a curry-comb, in such a way...
MONSIEUR JOURDAIN:
Mercy!

DANCING MASTER:
I'll give you a beating such as ...

MONSIEUR JOURDAIN:
I beg of you!

MUSIC MASTER:
Let us teach him a little how to talk!

MONSIEUR JOURDAIN:
Oh Lord! Stop.