That is the pattern we should set ourselves.
Your fellow was not fashioned on this model;
You're quite sincere in boasting of his zeal;
But you're deceived, I think, by false pretences.
ORGON
My dear good brother-in-law, have you quite done?
CLEANTE
Yes.
ORGON
I'm your humble servant.
(Starts to go.)
CLEANTE
Just a word.
We'll drop that other subject. But you know
Valère has had the promise of your daughter.
ORGON
Yes.
CLEANTE
You had named the happy day.
ORGON
'T is true.
CLEANTE
Then why put off the celebration of it?
ORGON
I can't say.
CLEANTE
Can you have some other plan
In mind?
ORGON
Perhaps.
CLEANTE
You mean to break your word?
ORGON
I don't say that.
CLEANTE
I hope no obstacle
Can keep you from performing what you've promised.
ORGON
Well, that depends.
CLEANTE
Why must you beat about?
Valère has sent me here to settle matters.
ORGON
Heaven be praised!
CLEANTE
What answer shall I take him?
ORGON
Why, anything you please.
CLEANTE
But we must know
Your plans. What are they?
ORGON
I shall do the will
Of Heaven.
CLEANTE
Come, be serious. You've given
Your promise to Valère. Now will you keep it?
ORGON
Good-bye.
CLEANTE, alone
His love, methinks, has much to fear;
I must go let him know what's happening here.
1Referring to the rebellion called La Fronde, during the minority of Louis XIV.
2Molière's note, inserted in the text of all the old editions. It is a curious illustration of the desire for uniformity and dignity of style in dramatic verse of the seventeenth century, that Molière feels called on to apologize for a touch of realism like this. Indeed, these lines were even omitted when the play was given.
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Act II
Scene I
ORGON, MARIANE
ORGON
Now, Mariane.
MARIANE
Yes, father?
ORGON
Come; I'll tell you
A secret.
MARIANE
Yes…What are you looking for?
Òrgon, looking into a small closet-room
To see there's no one there to spy upon us;
That little closet's mighty fit to hide in.
There! We're all right now. Mariane, in you
I've always found a daughter dutiful
And gentle. So I've always loved you dearly.
MARIANE
I'm grateful for your fatherly affection.
ORGON
Well spoken, daughter. Now, prove you deserve it
By doing as I wish in all respects.
MARIANE
To do so is the height of my ambition.
ORGON
Excellent well. What say you of—Tartuffe?
MARIANE
Who? I?
ORGON
Yes, you. Look to it how you answer.
MARIANE
Why! I'll say of him—anything you please.
Scene II
ORGON, MARIANE; DORINE, coming in quietly, and standing behind Orgon, so that he does not see her
ORGON
Well spoken. A good girl. Say then, my daughter,
That all his person shines with noble merit,
That he has won your heart, and you would like
To have him, by my choice, become your husband.
Eh?
MARIANE
Eh?
ORGON
What say you?
MARIANE
Please, what did you say?
ORGON
What?
Surely I mistook you, sir?
ORGON
How now?
MARIANE
Who is it, father, you would have me say
Has won my heart, and I would like to have
Become my husband, by your choice?
ORGON
Tartuffe.
MARIANE
But, father, I protest it isn't true!
Why should you make me tell this dreadful lie?
ORGON
Because I mean to have it be the truth.
Let this suffice for you: I've settled it.
MARIANE
What, father, you would…?
ORGON
Yes, child, I'm resolved
To graft Tartuffe into my family.
So he must be your husband. That I've settled.
And since your duty…
(Seeing Dorine)
What are you doing there?
Your curiosity is keen, my girl,
To make you come eavesdropping on us so.
DORINE
Upon my word, I don't know how the rumour
Got started—if 'twas guess-work or mere chance—
But I had heard already of this match,
And treated it as utter stuff and nonsense.
ORGON
What! Is the thing incredible?
DORINE
So much so
I don't believe it even from yourself, sir.
ORGON
I know a way to make you credit it.
DORINE
No, no, you're telling us a fairy tale!
ORGON
I'm telling you just what will happen shortly.
DORINE
Stuff!
ORGON
Daughter, what I say is in good earnest.
DORINE
There, there, don't take your father seriously;
He's fooling.
ORGON
But I tell you…
DORINE
No. No use.
They won't believe you.
ORGON
If I let my anger…
DORINE
Well, then, we do believe you; and the worse
For you it is. What! Can a grown-up man
With that expanse of beard across his face
Be mad enough to want…?
ORGON
You hark to me:
You've taken on yourself here in this house
A sort of free familiarity
That I don't like, I tell you frankly, girl.
DORINE
There, there, let's not get angry, sir, I beg you.
But are you making game of everybody?
Your daughter's not cut out for bigot's meat;
And he has more important things to think of.
Besides, what can you gain by such a match?
How can a man of wealth, like you, go choose
A wretched vagabond for son-in-law?
ORGON
You hold your tongue. And know, the less he has,
The better cause have we to honour him.
His poverty is honest poverty;
It should exalt him more than worldly grandeur,
For he has let himself be robbed of all,
Through careless disregard of temporal things
And fixed attachment to the things eternal.
My help may set him on his feet again,
Win back his property—a fair estate
He has at home, so I'm informed—and prove him
For what he is, a true-born ge
ntleman.
DORINE
Yes, so he says himself. Such vanity
But ill accords with pious living, sir.
The man who cares for holiness alone
Should not so loudly boast his name and birth;
The humble ways of genuine devoutness
Brook not so much display of earthly pride.
Why should he be so vain?…But I offend you:
Let's leave his rank then—take the man himself:
Can you without compunction give a man
Like him possession of a girl like her!
Think what a scandal's sure to come of it!
Virtue is at the mercy of the fates,
When a girl's married to a man she hates;
The best intent to live an honest woman
Depends upon the husband's being human,
And men whose brows are pointed at afar
May thank themselves their wives are what they are.
For to be true is more than woman can,
With husbands built upon a certain plan;
And he who weds his child against her will
Owes heaven account for it, if she do ill.
Think then what perils wait on your design.
ORGON, to Mariane
So! I must learn what's what from her, you see!
DORINE
You might do worse than follow my advice.
ORGON
Daughter, we can't waste time upon this nonsense;
I know what's good for you, and I'm your father.
True, I had promised you to young Valère;
But, first, they tell me he's inclined to gamble,
And then, I fear his faith is not quite sound.
I haven't noticed that he's regular
At church.
DORINE
You'd have him run there just when you do,
Like those who go on purpose to be seen?
ORGON
I don't ask your opinion on the matter.
In short, the other is in Heaven's best graces,
And that is riches quite beyond compare.
This match will bring you every joy you long for;
'T will be all steeped in sweetness and delight.
You'll live together, in your faithful loves,
Like two sweet children, like two turtle-doves;
You'll never fall to quarrel, scold, or tease,
And you may do with him whate'er you please.
DORINE
With him? Do naught but give him horns, I'll warrant.
ORGON
Out on the wench!
DORINE
I tell you he's cut out for 't;
However great your daughter's virtue, sir,
His destiny is sure to prove the stronger.
ORGON
Have done with interrupting. Hold your tongue.
Don't poke your nose in other people's business.
DORINE (She keeps interrupting him, just as he turns and starts to speak to his daughter.)
If I make bold, sir, 'T is for your own good.
ORGON
You're too officious; pray you, hold your tongue.
DORINE
'T is love of you…
ORGON
I want none of your love.
DORINE
Then I will love you in your own despite.
ORGON
You will, eh?
DORINE
Yes, your honour's dear to me;
I can't endure to see you made the butt
Of all men's ridicule.
ORGON
Won't you be still?
DORINE
'T would be a sin to let you make this match.
ORGON
Won't you be still, I say, you impudent viper!
DORINE
What! you are pious, and you lose your temper?
ORGON
I'm all wrought up, with your confounded nonsense;
Now, once for all, I tell you hold your tongue.
DORINE
Then mum's the word; I'll take it out in thinking
ORGON
Think all you please; but not a syllable
To me about it, or…you understand!
(Turning to his daughter)
As a wise father, I've considered all
With due deliberation.
DORINE
I'll go mad
If I can't speak.
(She stops the instant he turns his head.)
ORGON
Though he's no lady's man,
Tartuffe is well enough…
DORINE
A pretty phiz!
ORGON
So that, although you may not care at all
For his best qualities…
DORINE
A handsome dowry!
(Orgon turns and stands in front of her, with arms folded, eyeing her)
Were I in her place, any man should rue it
Who married me by force, that's mighty certain;
I'd let him know, and that within a week,
A woman's vengeance isn't far to seek.
ORGON, to Dorine
So—nothing that I say has any weight?
DORINE
Eh? What's wrong now? I didn't speak to you.
ORGON
What were you doing?
DORINE
Talking to myself.
ORGON
Oh! Very well. (Aside) Her monstrous impudence
Must be chastised with one good slap in the face.
(He stands ready to strike her, and, each time he speaks to his daughter, he glances toward her; but she stands still and says not a word.)1
ORGON
Daughter, you must approve of my design…
Think of this husband…I have chosen for you…
(To Dorine)
Why don't you talk to yourself?
DORINE
Nothing to say.
ORGON
One little word more.
DORINE
Oh, no, thanks. Not now.
ORGON
Sure, I'd have caught you.
DORINE
Faith, I'm no such fool.
ORGON
So, daughter, now obedience is the word;
You must accept my choice with reverence.
dorine, running away
You'd never catch me marrying such a creature.
orgon, swinging his hand at her and missing her
Daughter, you've such a pestilent hussy there
I can't live with her longer, without sin.
I can't discuss things in the state I'm in.
My mind's so flustered by her insolent talk,
To calm myself, I must go take a walk.
Scene III
MARIANE, DORINE
DORINE
Say, have you lost the tongue from out your head?
And must I speak your rôle from A to Zed?
You let them broach a project that's absurd,
And don't oppose it with a single word!
MARIANE
What can I do? My father is the master.
Dorine
Do? Everything, to ward off such disaster.
MARIANE
But what?
DORINE
Tell him one doesn't love by proxy;
Tell him you'll marry for yourself, not him;
Since you're the one for whom the thing is done,
You are the one, not he, the man must please;
If his Tartuffe has charmed him so, why let him
Just marry him himself—no one will hinder.
MARIANE
A father's rights are such, it seems to me,
That I could never dare to say a word.
DORINE
Come, talk it out. Valère has asked your hand:
Now do you love him, pray, or do you not?
MARIANE
Dorine! How can you wrong my love so much,
And as
k me such a question? Have I not
A hundred times laid bare my heart to you?
Do you not know how ardently I love him?
DORINE
How do I know if heart and words agree,
And if in honest truth you really love him?
MARIANE
Dorine, you wrong me greatly if you doubt it;
I've shown my inmost feelings, all too plainly.
DORINE
So then, you love him?
MARIANE
Yes, devotedly.
DORINE
And he returns your love, apparently?
MARIANE
I think so.
DORINE
And you both alike are eager
To be well married to each other?
Mariane
Surely.
DORINE
Then what's your plan about this other match?
MARIANE
To kill myself, if it is forced upon me.
DORINE
Good! That's a remedy I hadn't thought of.
Just die, and everything will be all right.
This medicine is marvellous, indeed!
It drives me mad to hear folk talk such nonsense.
MARIANE
Oh dear, Dorine, you get in such a temper!
You have no sympathy for people's troubles.
DORINE
I have no sympathy when folk talk nonsense,
And flatten out as you do, at a pinch.
MARIANE
But what can you expect?—if one is timid?—
DORINE
But what is love worth, if it has no courage?
MARIANE
Am I not constant in my love for him?
Is't not his place to win me from my father?
DORINE
But if your father is a crazy fool,
And quite bewitched with his Tartuffe? And breaks
His bounden word? Is that your lover's fault?
MARIANE
But shall I publicly refuse and scorn
This match, and make it plain that I'm in love?
Shall I cast off for him, whatever he be,
Womanly modesty and filial duty?
You ask me to display my love in public…?
DORINE
No, no, I ask you nothing. You shall be
Mister Tartuffe's; why, now I think of it,
I should be wrong to turn you from this marriage.
What cause can I have to oppose your wishes?
So fine a match! An excellent good match!
Mister Tartuffe! Oh ho! No mean proposal!
Mister Tartuffe, sure, take it all in all,
Is not a man to sneeze at—oh, by no means!
'T is no small luck to be his happy spouse.
The whole world joins to sing his praise already;
He's noble—in his parish; handsome too;
Red ears, and high complexion—oh, my lud!
You'll be too happy, sure, with him for husband.
MARIANE
Oh dear!…
DORINE
What joy and pride will fill your heart
To be the bride of such a handsome fellow!
MARIANE