Tartuffe or The Hypocrite Read online

  What! Must you go so fast?—and all at once

  Exhaust the whole love of a woman's heart?

  She does herself the violence to make

  This dear confession of her love, and you

  Are not yet satisfied, and will not be

  Without the granting of her utmost favours?

  TARTUFFE

  The less a blessing is deserved, the less

  We dare to hope for it; and words alone

  Can ill assuage our love's desires. A fate

  Too full of happiness, seems doubtful still;

  We must enjoy it ere we can believe it.

  And I, who know how little I deserve

  Your goodness, doubt the fortunes of my daring;

  So I shall trust to nothing, madam, till

  You have convinced my love by something real.

  ELMIRE

  Ah! How your love enacts the tyrant's rôle,

  And throws my mind into a strange confusion!

  With what fierce sway it rules a conquered heart,

  And violently will have its wishes granted!

  What! Is there no escape from your pursuit?

  No respite even?—not a breathing space?

  Nay, is it decent to be so exacting,

  And so abuse by urgency the weakness

  You may discover in a woman's heart?

  TARTUFFE

  But if my worship wins your gracious favour,

  Then why refuse me some sure proof thereof?

  ELMIRE

  But how can I consent to what you wish,

  Without offending Heaven you talk so much of?

  TARTUFFE

  If Heaven is all that stands now in my way,

  I'll easily remove that little hindrance;

  Your heart need not hold back for such a trifle.

  ELMIRE

  But they affright us so with Heaven's commands!

  TARTUFFE

  I can dispel these foolish fears, dear madam;

  I know the art of pacifying scruples.

  Heaven forbids, 'T is true, some satisfactions;

  But we find means to make things right with Heaven.

  ('T is a scoundrel speaking.)1

  There is a science, madam, that instructs us

  How to enlarge the limits of our conscience

  According to our various occasions,

  And rectify the evil of the deed

  According to our purity of motive.

  I'll duly teach you all these secrets, madam;

  You only need to let yourself be guided.

  Content my wishes, have no fear at all;

  I answer for 't, and take the sin upon me.

  (Elmire coughs still louder.)

  Your cough is very bad.

  ELMIRE

  Yes, I'm in torture .

  TARTUFFE

  Would you accept this bit of licorice?

  ELMIRE

  The case is obstinate, I find; and all

  The licorice in the world will do no good.

  TARTUFFE

  'T is very trying.

  ELMIRE

  More than words can say.

  TARTUFFE

  In any case, your scruple's easily

  Removed. With me you're sure of secrecy,

  And there's no harm unless a thing is known.

  The public scandal is what brings offence,

  And secret sinning is not sin at all.

  ELMIRE, after coughing again

  So then, I see I must resolve to yield;

  I must consent to grant you everything,

  And cannot hope to give full satisfaction,

  Or win full confidence, at lesser cost.

  No doubt 'T is very hard to come to this;

  'T is quite against my will I go so far;

  But since I must be forced to it, since nothing

  That can be said suffices for belief,

  Since more convincing proof is still demanded,

  I must make up my mind to humour people.

  If my consent give reason for offence,

  So much the worse for him who forced me to it;

  The fault can surely not be counted mine.

  TARTUFFE

  It need not, madam; and the thing itself…

  ELMIRE

  Open the door, I pray you, and just see

  Whether my husband's not there, in the hall.

  TARTUFFE

  Why take such care for him? Between ourselves,

  He is a man to lead round by the nose.

  He's capable of glorying in our meetings;

  I've fooled him so, he'd see all, and deny it.

  ELMIRE

  No matter; go, I beg you, look about,

  And carefully examine every corner.

  Scene VI

  ORGON, ELMIRE

  Orgon, crawling out from under the table

  That is, I own, a man…abominable!

  I can't get over it; the whole thing floors me.

  ELMIRE

  What? You come out so soon? You cannot mean it!

  Go back under the table; 'T is not time yet;

  Wait till the end, to see, and make quite certain,

  And don't believe a thing on mere conjecture.

  ORGON

  Nothing more wicked e'er came out of Hell.

  ELMIRE

  Dear me! Don't go and credit things too lightly.

  No, let yourself be thoroughly convinced;

  Don't yield too soon, for fear you'll be mistaken.

  (As Tartuffe enters, she makes her husband stand behind her.)

  Scene VII

  TARTUFFE, ELMIRE, ORGON

  TARTUFFE, not seeing Orgon

  All things conspire toward my satisfaction,

  Madam. I've searched the whole apartment through.

  There's no one here; and now my ravished soul…

  ORGON, stopping him

  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

  'T was 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.

  1Molière's note, in the original edition.

  | Go to Contents |

  Act V

  Scene I

  ORGON, CLEANTE

  CLEANTE

  Whither away so fast?

  ORGON

  How should I know?

  CLEANTE

  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.

  CLEANTE

  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.

  CLEANTE

  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.

  CLEANTE

  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!…

  'T is too much! No more pious folk for me!

  I shall abhor them utterly forever,

  And henceforth treat them worse than any devil.

  CLEANTE

  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 feignèd 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, CLEANTE

  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;

  'T is I must free you from him at a blow;

  'T is I, to set things right, must strike him down.

  CLEANTE

  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, CLENATE, 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 a speech?

  MADAME PERNELLE

  There are strange goings-on about your house,

  And everybody knows your people hate him.

  ORGON

  What's that to do with what I tell you now?

  MADAME PERNELLE

  I always said, my son, when you were little:

  That virtue here below is hated ever;

  The envious may die, but envy never.

  ORGON

  What's that fine speech to do with present facts?

  MADAME PERNELLE

  Be sure, they've forged a hundred silly lies…

  ORGON

  I've told you once, I saw it all myself.

  MADAME PERNELLE

  For slanderers abound in calumnies…

  ORGON

  Mother, you'd make me damn my soul. I tell you

  I saw with my own eyes his shamelessness.

  MADAME PERNELLE

  Their tongues for spitting venom never lack,

  There's nothing here below they'll not attack.

  ORGON

  Your speech has not a single grain of sense.

  I saw it, harkee, saw it, with these eyes

  I saw—d' ye know what saw means?—must I say it

  A hundred times, and din it in your ears?

  MADAME PERNELLE

  My dear, appearances are oft deceiving,

  And seeing shouldn't always be believing.

  ORGON

  I'll go mad.

  MADAME PERNELLE

  False suspicions may delude,

  And good to evil oft is misconstrued.

  ORGON

  Must I construe as Christian charity

  The wish to kiss my wife!

  MADAME PERNELLE

  You must, at least,

  Have just foundation for accusing people,

  And wait until you see a thing for sure.

  ORGON

  The devil! How could I see any surer?

  Should I have waited till, before my eyes,

  He…No, you'll make me say things quite improper.

  MADAME PERNELLE

  In sho
rt, 'T is known too pure a zeal inflames him;

  And so, I cannot possibly conceive

  That he should try to do what's charged against him.

  ORGON

  If you were not my mother, I should say

  Such things!…I know not what, I'm so enraged!

  DORINE, to Orgon

  Fortune has paid you fair, to be so doubted;

  You flouted our report, now yours is flouted.

  CLEANTE

  We're wasting time here in the merest trifling,

  Which we should rather use in taking measures

  To guard ourselves against the scoundrel's threats.

  DAMIS

  You think his impudence could go so far?

  ELMIRE

  For one, I can't believe it possible;

  Why, his ingratitude would be too patent.

  CLEANTE

  Don't trust to that; he'll find abundant warrant

  To give good colour to his acts against you;

  And for less cause than this, a strong cabal

  Can make one's life a labyrinth of troubles.

  I tell you once again: armed as he is

  You never should have pushed him quite so far.

  ORGON

  True; yet what could I do? The rascal's pride

  Made me lose all control of my resentment.

  CLEANTE

  I wish with all my heart that some pretence

  Of peace could be patched up between you two.

  ELMIRE

  If I had known what weapons he was armed with,

  I never should have raised such an alarm,

  And my…

  ORGON, to Dorine, seeing Mr. Loyal come in

  Who's coming now? Go quick, find out.

  I'm in a fine state to receive a visit!

  Scene IV

  ORGON, MADAME PERNELLE, ELMIRE, MARIANE, CLEANTE, DAMIS, DORINE, MR. LOYAL

  MR. LOYAL, to Dorine, at the back of the stage

  Good day, good sister. Pray you, let me see

  The master of the house.

  DORINE

  He's occupied;

  I think he can see nobody at present.

  MR. LOYAL

  I'm not by way of being unwelcome here.

  My coming can, I think, nowise displease him;

  My errand will be found to his advantage.

  DORINE

  Your name, then?

  MR. LOYAL

  Tell him simply that his friend

  Mr. Tartuffe has sent me, for his goods…

  DORINE, to Orgon

  It is a man who comes, with civil manners,

  Sent by Tartuffe, he says, upon an errand

  That you'll be pleased with.

  CLEANTE, to Orgon

  Surely you must see him,

  And find out who he is, and what he wants.

  ORGON, to Clèante

  Perhaps he's come to make it up between us;