Tartuffe Molière (most romantic novels txt) 📖

Softly! You are too eager in your amours;
You needn’t be so passionate. Ah ha!
My holy man! You want to put it on me!
How is your soul abandoned to temptation!
Marry my daughter, eh?⁠—and want my wife, too?
I doubted long enough if this was earnest,
Expecting all the time the tone would change;
But now the proof’s been carried far enough;
I’m satisfied, and ask no more, for my part.

Elmire

To Tartuffe. ’Twas quite against my character to play
This part; but I was forced to treat you so.

Tartuffe

What? You believe⁠ ⁠… ?

Orgon

Come, now, no protestations.
Get out from here, and make no fuss about it.

Tartuffe

But my intent⁠ ⁠…

Orgon

That talk is out of season.
You leave my house this instant.

Tartuffe

You’re the one
To leave it, you who play the master here!
This house belongs to me, I’ll have you know,
And show you plainly it’s no use to turn
To these low tricks, to pick a quarrel with me,
And that you can’t insult me at your pleasure,
For I have wherewith to confound your lies,
Avenge offended Heaven, and compel
Those to repent who talk to me of leaving.

Scene VIII Elmire, Orgon. Elmire

What sort of speech is this? What can it mean?

Orgon

My faith, I’m dazed. This is no laughing matter.

Elmire

What?

Orgon

From his words I see my great mistake;
The deed of gift is one thing troubles me.

Elmire

The deed of gift⁠ ⁠…

Orgon

Yes, that is past recall.
But I’ve another thing to make me anxious.

Elmire

What’s that?

Orgon

You shall know all. Let’s see at once
Whether a certain box is still upstairs.

Act V Scene I Orgon, Cléante. Cléante

Whither away so fast?

Orgon

How should I know?

Cléante

Methinks we should begin by taking counsel
To see what can be done to meet the case.

Orgon

I’m all worked up about that wretched box.
More than all else it drives me to despair.

Cléante

That box must hide some mighty mystery?

Orgon

Argas, my friend who is in trouble, brought it
Himself, most secretly, and left it with me.
He chose me, in his exile, for this trust;
And on these documents, from what he said,
I judge his life and property depend.

Cléante

How could you trust them to another’s hands?

Orgon

By reason of a conscientious scruple.
I went straight to my traitor, to confide
In him; his sophistry made me believe
That I must give the box to him to keep,
So that, in case of search, I might deny
My having it at all, and still, by favour
Of this evasion, keep my conscience clear
Even in taking oath against the truth.

Cléante

Your case is bad, so far as I can see;
This deed of gift, this trusting of the secret
To him, were both⁠—to state my frank opinion⁠—
Steps that you took too lightly; he can lead you
To any length, with these for hostages;
And since he holds you at such disadvantage,
You’d be still more imprudent, to provoke him;
So you must go some gentler way about.

Orgon

What! Can a soul so base, a heart so false,
Hide neath the semblance of such touching fervour?
I took him in, a vagabond, a beggar!⁠ ⁠…
’Tis too much! No more pious folk for me!
I shall abhor them utterly forever,
And henceforth treat them worse than any devil.

Cléante

So! There you go again, quite off the handle!
In nothing do you keep an even temper.
You never know what reason is, but always
Jump first to one extreme, and then the other.
You see your error, and you recognise
That you’ve been cozened by a feigned zeal;
But to make up for’t, in the name of reason,
Why should you plunge into a worse mistake,
And find no difference in character
Between a worthless scamp, and all good people?
What! Just because a rascal boldly duped you
With pompous show of false austerity,
Must you needs have it everybody’s like him,
And no one’s truly pious nowadays?
Leave such conclusions to mere infidels;
Distinguish virtue from its counterfeit,
Don’t give esteem too quickly, at a venture,
But try to keep, in this, the golden mean.
If you can help it, don’t uphold imposture;
But do not rail at true devoutness, either;
And if you must fall into one extreme,
Then rather err again the other way.

Scene II Damis, Orgon, Cléante. Damis

What! father, can the scoundrel threaten you,
Forget the many benefits received,
And in his base abominable pride
Make of your very favours arms against you?

Orgon

Too true, my son. It tortures me to think on’t.

Damis

Let me alone, I’ll chop his ears off for him.
We must deal roundly with his insolence;
’Tis I must free you from him at a blow;
’Tis I, to set things right, must strike him down.

Cléante

Spoke like a true young man. Now just calm down,
And moderate your towering tantrums, will you?
We live in such an age, with such a king,
That violence can not advance our cause.

Scene III Madame Pernelle, Orgon, Elmire, Cléante, Mariane, Damis, Dorine. Madame Pernelle

What’s this? I hear of fearful mysteries!

Orgon

Strange things indeed, for my own eyes to witness;
You see how I’m requited for my kindness,
I zealously receive a wretched beggar,
I lodge him, entertain him like my brother,
Load him with benefactions every day,
Give him my daughter, give him all my fortune:
And he meanwhile, the villain, rascal, wretch,
Tries with black treason to suborn my wife,
And not content with such a foul design,
He dares to menace me with my own favours,
And would make use of those advantages
Which my too foolish kindness armed him with,
To ruin me, to take my fortune from me,
And leave me in the state I saved him from.

Dorine

Poor man!

Madame Pernelle

My son, I cannot possibly
Believe he could intend so black a deed.

Orgon

What?

Madame Pernelle

Worthy men are still the sport of envy.

Orgon

Mother, what do you mean by such