The Pretentious Young Ladies

In Short

This sharp, one-act comedy skewers the social affectations of 17th-century Paris. Two young women from the provinces, obsessed with the "precious" style of high-society romance, treat their respectable suitors with utter disdain. In retaliation, the rejected men send their own valets—disguised as a Marquis and a Viscount—to court the ladies. The play exposes the hollowness of a culture that values empty posturing over character, and it remains a masterclass in satire, showing how easily the desire to be "in the know" can make fools of us all.

The Story

The play opens with La Grange and Du Croisy, two honorable men, venting their frustration after a disastrous visit to the home of Gorgibus. They have just been rejected by Gorgibus’s daughter, Madelon, and his niece, Cathos, who found the men’s direct, honest conversation "vulgar" and lacking in the romantic flair they have studied in popular novels. The women crave the intricate, flowery language and the dramatic, staged courtship rituals they believe define true sophistication.

Seeking revenge for their humiliating dismissal, La Grange hatches a plan to expose the women’s pretension. He decides to dress up his clever, fast-talking valet, Mascarille, as a grand Marquis of wit and fashion. Mascarille, who prides himself on his ability to "ape a person of quality," agrees to the ruse. He is soon joined by another valet, Jodelet, who acts as a Viscount. Together, they arrive at the home of the ladies, masquerading as high-born courtiers.

Madelon and Cathos are instantly entranced. They are so desperate to appear worldly that they accept the valets’ ridiculous behavior—their exaggerated gestures, their tall tales of military valor, and their vapid, nonsensical poetry—as the pinnacle of grace and intellect. The women are delighted to host these "lords," arranging music and a dance to celebrate their supposed good fortune. They are perfectly willing to overlook the fact that these men are boastful, rude, and clearly insincere, provided the performance of "gallantry" is maintained.

As the dance reaches its peak, the real La Grange and Du Croisy burst into the room. They reveal the true identities of the "Marquis" and "Viscount," stripping them of their fine coats and ribbons. The masquerade collapses instantly. Left in their ordinary servants’ clothes, the valets are reduced to bickering about who owes the musicians for the performance.

Gorgibus, who has been watching the unfolding chaos with growing rage, berates his daughter and niece for their stupidity. He points out that they have been duped by their own vanity, having preferred the company of a masquerading servant to the honest, marriage-minded men he had provided for them. The ladies are left in total disarray, humiliated and exposed. The valets, realizing their ruse has failed and they are no longer welcome, leave to "seek their fortune elsewhere," while Gorgibus is left to deal with the musicians, who still demand payment for the performance that ruined his family’s reputation.

How It Unfolds

The rejection La Grange and Du Croisy discuss their stinging dismissal by the two young women, noting that their honest marriage proposals were met with nothing but yawns and contempt. Disgusted by the ladies’ obsession with romantic affectation, they decide to teach them a lesson in humility.

The masquerade The two men enlist their valets, Mascarille and Jodelet, to assume the roles of wealthy, witty aristocrats. The valets quickly adopt the absurd, borrowed phraseology and foppish manners that they know will appeal to the gullible Madelon and Cathos.

The courtly display Mascarille and Jodelet arrive at the house and immediately captivate the women with their ridiculous poetry, false tales of military heroism, and obsession with courtly fashion. The ladies are so blinded by the performance that they fail to notice the glaring lack of genuine substance in their visitors.

The unmasking La Grange and Du Croisy return to interrupt the dance, violently exposing the valets as common servants and taking back the finery they had lent them. The illusion is shattered, leaving the ladies to face the harsh judgment of Gorgibus and the ridicule of their neighbors.

The People

Madelon and Cathos are cousins and aspiring "precieuses" who have forsaken their own identities for the hollow language of romantic novels. They want to be seen as profound, yet they lack the self-awareness to realize they are being played. By the end, their pride is stripped away, leaving them exposed as mere caricatures.

Gorgibus is the frustrated, practical uncle and father who just wants his charges to marry well and settle down. He represents the voice of common sense, yet he is powerless to stop his family’s descent into nonsense until the social disaster is already complete.

La Grange and Du Croisy are the jilted, intelligent men who orchestrate the trap. While they are technically the protagonists, their primary role is that of a mirror; they provide the "wholesome chastisement" necessary to shock the ladies out of their delusion.

Mascarille and Jodelet are the clever valets who recognize that, in a world obsessed with appearances, anyone can be a "Marquis" if they have the right coat and a few rhymes. They are essentially the play’s most honest characters, as they are at least aware of their own performance.

In Its Own Voice

"There is a very great difference between the influence these ladies exercised from 1620 until 1640, and what took place in 1658, the year when Molière returned to Paris."

The editor describes the shift from genuine cultural refinement to the later, hollow imitation that the play targets.

"Instead of using an elegant and refined diction, they employed only a pretentious and conceitedly affected style, which became highly ridiculous."

This explains the central conflict: the loss of meaning in favor of a performative vocabulary.

"I perceive they love nothing here but outward show, and have no regard for worth unadorned."

Mascarille, the false Marquis, offers this cynical assessment of his hosts just before he is forced to leave.

What It's Really About

The central argument is that affectation—the deliberate adoption of a persona to seem more sophisticated than one truly is—is a form of social blindness. By prioritizing the manner of speech over the content of character, the characters in this story render themselves vulnerable to anyone who can mimic the right superficial cues. The book asks a question that remains relevant: how much of our own "taste" is genuine, and how much is merely a borrowed performance meant to signal belonging to a desired group? The play suggests that when we try to manufacture an identity based on the trends of the moment, we do not become more refined—we become, quite literally, ridiculous.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy social satire and have a soft spot for stories about the folly of pride will find much to love here. The play feels remarkably modern, functioning like a period version of a reality show where the "fame-obsessed" contestants are finally confronted with the truth of their situation. There is a sharp, quick energy to the dialogue that makes it an easy read, despite its 17th-century origins.

The primary challenge for a modern reader is the specificity of the "precious" dialect, which can occasionally feel dense with period references to obscure novels. However, the humor survives because the core human foible—the desperate need to be seen as "cool" or "intellectual" by adopting the jargon of an elite clique—is a constant in every generation. You will likely walk away from this play with a renewed suspicion of anyone who talks in buzzwords or prioritizes "vibes" over substance. It is a brisk, biting reminder that the more one works to seem sophisticated, the more likely one is to be the only person in the room who doesn't see the joke. It is a short, punchy performance that stays with you long after the final curtain falls on its foolish, humbled characters.