Act,  scene

 1    1,   1|        said a hundred times to my poor son,~Your father, that you’
 2    1,   5|          fair, rosy-lipped.~Orgon~Poor man!~Dorine~At evening she
 3    1,   5|            mutton, deviled.~Orgon~Poor man!~Dorine~All night she
 4    1,   5|         until next morning.~Orgon~Poor man!~Dorine~At last she
 5    1,   5|           draughts of wine.~Orgon~Poor man!~Dorine~So now they
 6    1,   6|          eyes, and give it to the poor.~At length heaven bade me
 7    3,   3|           And nothing from my own poor weak endeavour.~You are
 8    3,   7|         done in everything!~Orgon~Poor man!~We’ll go make haste
 9    4,   3|         Do not make wretched this poor life you gave me.~If, crossing
10    4,   3|          He tried to play on this poor man; besides,~You were too
11    5,   3|          I saved him from.~Dorine~Poor man!~Madame Pernelle~My
12    5,   8| indignities, I beg you.~Leave the poor wretch to his unhappy fate,~