MR. JOUR. Before I give you an answer, Sir, I beg you to tell me if
you are a nobleman.
CLE. Sir, most people would answer that question without any
hesitation whatever. The word is easily spoken; a title is generally
adopted without scruple, and present custom seems to sanction the
theft. For my part, however, I must confess that I look upon any kind
of imposture as unworthy of an honest man. I think it base to hide
what heaven has made us, to adorn ourselves before the world with a
title, and to wish to pass for what we are not. I am the son of
parents who have filled honourable offices. I have acquitted myself
with honour in the army, where I served for six years, and I am rich
enough to hold a tolerable position in the world; but for all this, I
will not assume a name that others might think I could pretend to in
my position, and I tell you openly that I cannot be reckoned a
nobleman.
MR. JOUR. Shake hands, then, my daughter is no wife for you.
CLE. How! May I know...?
MR. JOUR. You are not a nobleman, therefore you shall not have my
daughter.
MRS. JOUR. What is it you mean by your nobleman? Are we ourselves
descended from St. Louis?
MR. JOUR. Be silent, wife; I see what you are driving at.
MRS. JOUR. Are we not both descended from good, simple tradesmen?
MR. JOUR. Is not that a wicked slander?
MRS.
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