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.
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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.
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