Tartuffe or The Hypocrite Read online

  TARTUFFE

  Ah! my friend, a woman

  May easily mislead her husband's mind.

  ORGON

  No, no.

  TARTUFFE

  So let me quickly go away

  And thus remove all cause for such attacks.

  ORGON

  No, you shall stay; my life depends upon it.

  TARTUFFE

  Then I must mortify myself. And yet,

  If you should wish…

  ORGON

  No, never!

  TARTUFFE

  Very well then;

  No more of that. But I shall rule my conduct

  To fit the case. Honour is delicate,

  And friendship binds me to forestall suspicion,

  Prevent all scandal, and avoid your wife.

  ORGON

  No, you shall haunt her, just to spite them all.

  'T is my delight to set them in a rage;

  You shall be seen together at all hours;

  And what is more, the better to defy them,

  I'll have no other heir but you; and straightway

  I'll go and make a deed of gift to you,

  Drawn in due form, of all my property.

  A good true friend, my son-in-law to be,

  Is more to me than son, and wife, and kindred.

  You will accept my offer, will you not?

  TARTUFFE

  Heaven's will be done in everything!

  ORGON

  Poor man!

  We'll go make haste to draw the deed aright,

  And then let envy burst itself with spite!

  1Some modern editions have adopted the reading, preserved by tradition as that of the earliest stage version:

  Heaven, forgive him even as I forgive him!

  Voltaire gives still another reading:

  Heaven, forgive me even as I forgive him!

  Whichever was the original version, it appears in none of the early editions, and Molière probably felt forced to change it on account of its too close resemblance to the Biblical phrase.

  | Go to Contents |

  Act IV

  Scene I

  CLEANTE, TARTUFFE

  CLEANTE

  Yes, it's become the talk of all the town,

  And made a stir that's scarcely to your credit;

  And I have met you, sir, most opportunely,

  To tell you in a word my frank opinion.

  Not to sift out this scandal to the bottom,

  Suppose the worst for us—suppose Damis

  Acted the traitor, and accused you falsely;

  Should not a Christian pardon this offence,

  And stifle in his heart all wish for vengeance?

  Should you permit that, for your petty quarrel,

  A son be driven from his father's house?

  I tell you yet again, and tell you frankly,

  Everyone, high or low, is scandalised;

  If you'll take my advice, you'll make it up,

  And not push matters to extremities.

  Make sacrifice to God of your resentment;

  Restore the son to favour with his father.

  TARTUFFE

  Alas! So far as I'm concerned, how gladly

  Would I do so! I bear him no ill will;

  I pardon all, lay nothing to his charge,

  And wish with all my heart that I might serve him;

  But Heaven's interests cannot allow it;

  If he returns, then I must leave the house.

  After his conduct, quite unparalleled,

  All intercourse between us would bring scandal;

  God knows what everyone's first thought would be!

  They would attribute it to merest scheming

  On my part—say that conscious of my guilt

  I feigned a Christian love for my accuser,

  But feared him in my heart, and hoped to win him

  And underhandedly secure his silence.

  CLEANTE

  You try to put us off with specious phrases;

  But all your arguments are too far-fetched.

  Why take upon yourself the cause of Heaven?

  Does Heaven need our help to punish sinners?

  Leave to itself the care of its own vengeance,

  And keep in mind the pardon it commands us;

  Besides, think somewhat less of men's opinions,

  When you are following the will of Heaven.

  Shall petty fear of what the world may think

  Prevent the doing of a noble deed?

  No!—let us always do as Heaven commands,

  And not perplex our brains with further questions.

  TARTUFFE

  Already I have told you I forgive him;

  And that is doing, sir, as Heaven commands.

  But after this day's scandal and affront

  Heaven does not order me to live with him.

  CLEANTE

  And does it order you to lend your ear

  To what mere whim suggested to his father,

  And to accept the gift of his estates,

  On which, in justice, you can make no claim?

  TARTUFFE

  No one who knows me, sir, can have the thought

  That I am acting from a selfish motive.

  The goods of this world have no charms for me;

  I am not dazzled by their treacherous glamour;

  And if I bring myself to take the gift

  Which he insists on giving me, I do so,

  To tell the truth, only because I fear

  This whole estate may fall into bad hands,

  And those to whom it comes may use it ill

  And not employ it, as is my design,

  For Heaven's glory and my neighbours' good.

  CLEANTE

  Eh, sir, give up these conscientious scruples

  That well may cause a rightful heir's complaints.

  Don't take so much upon yourself, but let him

  Possess what's his, at his own risk and peril;

  Consider, it were better he misused it,

  Than you should be accused of robbing him.

  I am astounded that unblushingly

  You could allow such offers to be made!

  Tell me—has true religion any maxim

  That teaches us to rob the lawful heir?

  If Heaven has made it quite impossible

  Damis and you should live together here,

  Were it not better you should quietly

  And honourably withdraw, than let the son

  Be driven out for your sake, dead against

  All reason? 'Twould be giving, sir, believe me

  Such an example of your probity…

  TARTUFFE

  Sir, it is half-past three; certain devotions

  Recall me to my closet; you'll forgive me

  For leaving you so soon.

  CLEANTE,alone

  Ah!

  Scene II

  ELMIRE, MARIANE, CLEANTE, DORINE

  DORINE, to Cleante

  Sir, we beg you

  To help us all you can in her behalf;

  She's suffering almost more than heart can bear;

  This match her father means to make to-night

  Drives her each moment to despair. He's coming.

  Let us unite our efforts now, we beg you,

  And try by strength or skill to change his purpose.

  Scene III

  ORGON, ELMIRE, MARIANE, CLEANTE, DORINE

  ORGON

  So ho! I'm glad to find you all together.

  (To Mariane)

  Here is the contract that shall make you happy,

  My dear. You know already what it means.

  Mariane, on her knees before Orgon

  Father, I beg you, in the name of Heaven

  That knows my grief, and by whate'er can move you,

  Relax a little your paternal rights,

  And free my love from this obedience!

  Oh, do not make me, by your ha
rsh command,

  Complain to Heaven you ever were my father;

  Do not make wretched this poor life you gave me.

  If, crossing that fond hope which I had formed,

  You'll not permit me to belong to one

  Whom I have dared to love, at least, I beg you

  Upon my knees, oh, save me from the torment

  Of being possessed by one whom I abhor!

  And do not drive me to some desperate act

  By exercising all your rights upon me.

  ORGON,a little touched

  Come, come, my heart, be firm! no human weakness!

  MARIANE

  I am not jealous of your love for him;

  Display it freely; give him your estate,

  And if that's not enough, add all of mine;

  I willingly agree, and give it up,

  If only you'll not give him me, your daughter;

  Oh, rather let a convent's rigid rule

  Wear out the wretched days that Heaven allots me.

  ORGON

  These girls are ninnies!—always turning nuns

  When fathers thwart their silly love-affairs.

  Get on your feet! The more you hate to have him,

  The more 'twill help you earn your soul's salvation.

  So, mortify your senses by this marriage,

  And don't vex me about it any more.

  DORINE

  But what…?

  ORGON

  You, hold your tongue, before your betters.

  Don't dare to say a single word, I tell you.

  CLEANTE

  If you will let me answer, and advise…

  ORGON

  Brother, I value your advice most highly;

  'T is well thought out; no better can be had;

  But you'll allow me—not to follow it.

  ELMIRE, to her husband

  I can't find words to cope with such a case;

  Your blindness makes me quite astounded at you.

  You are bewitched with him, to disbelieve

  The things we tell you happened here to-day.

  ORGON

  I am your humble servant, and can see

  Things, when they're plain as noses on folks' faces.

  I know you're partial to my rascal son,

  And didn't dare to disavow the trick

  He tried to play on this poor man; besides,

  You were too calm, to be believed; if that

  Had happened, you'd have been far more disturbed.

  ELMIRE

  And must our honour always rush to arms

  At the mere mention of illicit love?

  Or can we answer no attack upon it

  Except with blazing eyes and lips of scorn?

  For my part, I just laugh away such nonsense;

  I've no desire to make a loud to-do.

  Our virtue should, I think, be gentle-natured;

  Nor can I quite approve those savage prudes

  Whose honour arms itself with teeth and claws

  To tear men's eyes out at the slightest word.

  Heaven preserve me from that kind of honour!

  I like my virtue not to be a vixen,

  And I believe a quiet cold rebuff

  No less effective to repulse a lover.

  ORGON

  I know…and you can't throw me off the scent.

  ELMIRE

  Once more, I am astounded at your weakness;

  I wonder what your unbelief would answer,

  If I should let you see we've told the truth?

  ORGON

  See it?

  ELMIRE

  Yes.

  ORGON

  Nonsense.

  ELMIRE

  Come! If I should find

  A way to make you see it clear as day?

  ORGON

  All rubbish.

  ELMIRE

  What a man! But answer me.

  I'm not proposing now that you believe us;

  But let's suppose that here, from proper hiding,

  You should be made to see and hear all plainly;

  What would you say then, to your man of virtue?

  ORGON

  Why, then, I'd say…say nothing. It can't be.

  ELMIRE

  Your error has endured too long already,

  And quite too long you've branded me a liar.

  I must at once, for my own satisfaction,

  Make you a witness of the things we've told you.

  ORGON

  Amen! I take you at your word. We'll see

  What tricks you have, and how you'll keep your

  promise.

  ELMIRE, to Dorine

  Send him to me.

  DORINE, to Elmire

  The man's a crafty codger;

  Perhaps you'll find it difficult to catch him.

  ELMIRE, to Dorine

  Oh no! A lover's never hard to cheat,

  And self-conceit leads straight to self-deceit.

  Bid him come down to me.

  (To Clèante and Mariane)

  And you, withdraw.

  Scene IV

  ELMIRE, ORGON

  ELMIRE

  Bring up this table, and get under it.

  ORGON

  What?

  ELMIRE

  One essential is to hide you well.

  ORGON

  Why under there?

  ELMIRE

  Oh dear! Do as I say;

  I know what I'm about, as you shall see.

  Get under, now, I tell you; and once there

  Be careful no one either sees or hears you.

  ORGON

  I'm going a long way to humour you,

  I must say; but I'll see you through your scheme.

  ELMIRE

  And then you'll have, I think, no more to say.

  (To her husband, who is now under the table.)

  But mind, I'm going to meddle with strange matters;

  Prepare yourself to be in no wise shocked.

  Whatever I may say must pass, because

  'T is only to convince you, as I promised.

  By wheedling speeches, since I'm forced to do it,

  I'll make this hypocrite put off his mask,

  Flatter the longings of his shameless passion,

  And give free play to all his impudence.

  But, since 'T is for your sake, to prove to you

  His guilt, that I shall feign to share his love,

  I can leave off as soon as you're convinced,

  And things shall go no farther than you choose.

  So, when you think they've gone quite far enough,

  It is for you to stop his mad pursuit,

  To spare your wife, and not expose me farther

  Than you shall need, yourself, to undeceive you.

  It is your own affair, and you must end it

  When…Here he comes. Keep still, don't show yourself.

  Scene V

  TARTUFFE, ELMIRE; ORGON, under the table

  TARTUFFE

  They told me that you wished to see me here.

  ELMIRE

  Yes. I have secrets for your ear alone.

  But shut the door first, and look everywhere

  For fear of spies.

  (Tartuffe goes and closes the door, and comes back.)

  We surely can't afford

  Another scene like that we had just now;

  Was ever anyone so caught before!

  Damis did frighten me most terribly

  On your account; you saw I did my best

  To baffle his design, and calm his anger.

  But I was so confused, I never thought

  To contradict his story; still, thank Heaven,

  Things turned out all the better, as it happened,

  And now we're on an even safer footing.

  The high esteem you're held in, laid the storm;

  My husband can have no suspicion of you,

  And even insists, to spite the scandal-mongers,


  That we shall be together constantly;

  So that is how, without the risk of blame,

  I can be here locked up with you alone,

  And can reveal to you my heart, perhaps

  Only too ready to allow your passion.

  TARTUFFE

  Your words are somewhat hard to understand,

  Madam; just now you used a different style.

  ELMIRE

  If that refusal has offended you,

  How little do you know a woman's heart!

  How ill you guess what it would have you know,

  When it presents so feeble a defence!

  Always, at first, our modesty resists

  The tender feelings you inspire us with.

  Whatever cause we find to justify

  The love that masters us, we still must feel

  Some little shame in owning it; and strive

  To make as though we would not, when we would.

  But from the very way we go about it

  We let a lover know our heart surrenders,

  The while our lips, for honour's sake, oppose

  Our heart's desire, and in refusing promise.

  I'm telling you my secret all too freely

  And with too little heed to modesty.

  But—now that I've made bold to speak—pray tell me,

  Should I have tried to keep Damis from speaking,

  Should I have heard the offer of your heart

  So quietly, and suffered all your pleading,

  And taken it just as I did—remember—

  If such a declaration had not pleased me?

  And, when I tried my utmost to persuade you

  Not to accept the marriage that was talked of,

  What should my earnestness have hinted to you

  If not the interest that you've inspired,

  And my chagrin, should such a match compel me

  To share a heart I want all to myself?

  TARTUFFE

  'T is, past a doubt, the height of happiness,

  To hear such words from lips we dote upon;

  Their honeyed sweetness pours through all my senses

  Long draughts of suavity ineffable.

  My heart employs its utmost zeal to please you,

  And counts your love its one beatitude;

  And yet that heart must beg that you allow it

  To doubt a little its felicity.

  I well might think these words an honest trick

  To make me break off this approaching marriage;

  And if I may express myself quite plainly,

  I cannot trust these too enchanting words

  Until the granting of some little favour

  I sigh for, shall assure me of their truth

  And build within my soul, on firm foundations,

  A lasting faith in your sweet charity.

  Elmire, coughing to draw her husband's attention