Tartuffe; Or, The Hypocrite
So that, whatever the future may bring,
You can postpone and postpone this wedding.
By gaining time, we gain our remedy.
Sometimes you will feign a strange malady
Whose sudden onset will bring some delay;
Sometimes an ill-omen will cause you dismay:
You saw a corpse and never felt queerer,
Dreamt of muddy water, or broke a mirror.
The point above all is that no one, I guess,
Can force you to marry unless you say, "Yes."
But our ship would sail in fairer weather
If you were never seen talking together.
[To Valere] Go, and without delay employ each friend
To keep him on course toward what we intend.
[To Mariane] We are going to seek help from his brother
And we'll also recruit your step-mother.
Farewell.
Valere [to Mariane]. Whatever we attempt to do,
In truth, my greatest hope resides in you.
Mariane [to Valere]. Although I cannot answer for my father,
I vow I'll never belong to another.
Valere. How happy you have made me! If they ever . . .
Dorine. Fie! You young lovers prattle forever!
Be off, I say.
Valere [going a step and then returning]. Finally . . .
Dorine. What blather!
You go off that way, and you go the other.
ACT III
SCENE I
Damis, Dorine
Damis. May a bolt of lightning now strike me dumb,
May everybody treat me like a bum
If either respect or force can hinder me
From blowing my top at this calamity!
Dorine. For heaven's sake, control your displeasure.
Your father has merely mentioned this measure.
No one does everything he proposes.
How something opens may not be how it closes.
Damis. I need to stop this vulgar coxcomb's plot
And in two little words tell him what's what.
Dorine. Whoa now! Why don't you let your step-mother
Manage him just as she does your father.
Over Tartuffe she has her own little ways
Of making him welcome all that she says,
And perhaps she makes his heart go pitter-patter.
Pray God it's true! That would be a fine matter.
In fact she has summoned him for your sake
In order to learn exactly what's at stake,
To find out his feelings, and to let him know
What really rotten results would flow
From any pretensions he might have to marry.
His valet says he's praying, and I should tarry--
That he'll descend after he meditates.
Be off then, I beg you, and let me wait.
Damis. I demand to be here the whole time they meet.
Dorine. No. They must be alone.
Damis. I won't even speak.
Dorine. You're kidding yourself. You're so quick to anger,
And that would surely put us all in danger.
Go.
Damis. No. I'm going to watch--without getting cross.
Dorine. How tiresome you are! Here they come. Get lost!
[Damis hides himself in a closet.]
SCENE II
Tartuffe, Laurent, Dorine
Tartuffe [observing Dorine]. Laurent, lock up my hair shirt and my scourge,
And pray for freedom from each carnal urge.
If anyone comes calling, say I have gone
To share my alms with the poor souls in prison.
Dorine [aside]. Such affectation and boastful behavior!
Tartuffe. What do you wish?
Dorine. To say . . .
Tartuffe [taking a handkerchief from his pocket]. Wait! By our Savior,
Please! Before you speak take this handkerchief.
Dorine. Why?
Tartuffe. Because seeing your bosom causes me grief.
Through one's eyes one's soul may be wounded,
And then sinful thoughts may grow unattended.
Dorine. Then you are quite ready for temptation,
And bare skin makes on you a big impression.
I truly don't know why you feel such passion;
I myself think lust is out of fashion,
For I could see you nude from top to toe
Without your pelt setting my cheeks aglow.
Tartuffe. Put a little modesty in your discourse
Or I must leave you instantly perforce.
Dorine. No, it is I who will leave you here in peace,
And I will just say this before I cease:
Madam is coming down to visit you
And demands the favor of a rendezvous.
Tartuffe. Oh yes! Most willingly!
Dorine [to herself]. Isn't he sweet!
I'm even surer now that dog's in heat.
Tartuffe. Will she soon come?
Dorine. I think I can hear her.
Yes, there. Now I will leave you two together.
SCENE III
Elmire, Tartuffe
Tartuffe. May Heaven forever in its great bounty
Grant you good health both in soul and body,
And bless your days as much as he desires
Who is the humblest of those your love inspires!
Elmire. I'm much obliged for your pious wishes, but please,
Let us be seated and put ourselves at ease.
Tartuffe [sitting down]. Have you quite recovered from your illness?
Elmire [sitting as well]. Yes, my headache quickly lost its sharpness.
Tartuffe. My prayers haven't enough value to buy
Such grace from the Heavenly One on High,
But most of my recent prayers have in essence
Been mainly focused on your convalescence.
Elmire. Your concern for me is somewhat disquieting.
Tartuffe. I dearly cherish your precious well-being,
And to restore it I would have given my own.
Elmire. Such Christian charity is overblown,
But I am much obliged for all your care.
Tartuffe. I try to do as much for you as I dare.
Elmire. I wish to speak of some private business
And am pleased there's no one to overhear us.
Tartuffe. I, too, am delighted, and entre nous
It's very sweet being one-on-one with you.
For this also have I begged the Deity,
But only now has he granted it to me.
Elmire. I myself want an encounter between us two
Where your whole heart is opened through and through.
[Without exposing himself and in order to better hear the conversation, Damis opens the door of the closet in which he is hiding.]
Tartuffe. In exchange for this unique blessing, I
Desire only to reveal to you my
Whole soul, and to swear that all my preaching
About your guests--though perhaps over-reaching--
Was not caused by any anger or hate
But rather by a zeal that's passionate
And pure . . .
Elmire. I wholly understand and declare
My belief that you seek only my welfare.
Tartuffe [pressing the tips of her fingers]. Yes, madam, it's true; my devotion is such . . .
Elmire. You're hurting me.
Tartuffe. Passion pushes me too much.
I never wanted to hurt you, I swear,
And I would rather . . .
[He puts his hand on her knee.]
Elmire. Why is your hand there?
Tartuffe. I'm feeling your dress. Such fine dimity!
Elmire. Oh! Please let me go. You're tickling me.
[She pushes her chair back, and Tartuffe moves his forward.]
Tartuffe [putting his hand on her lacy collar]. Dear Lord! But this workmanship is marvelous!
Lacework nowadays is miraculous.
I've never seen anything quite so fine.
Elmire. That's true. But let's speak of this concern of mine.
I hear that my husband may be breaking his word
And giving you his daughter. What have you heard?
Tartuffe. In truth, madam, some such words did transpire,
But that is not the joy to which I aspire,
And I see elsewhere those splendid attractions
Which I seek to attain through all of my actions.
Elmire. Then all your earthly love has been overthrown?
Tartuffe. My breast does not hold a heart made of stone.
Elmire. I'm sure that all your thoughts are on salvation,
And nothing less holds any fascination.
Tartuffe. The love that attracts us to what's eternal
Does not stop our love for the merely temporal.
Our senses can be quite easily charmed
By the perfect Earthly works that God has formed.
His glory is mirrored in those like you,
But in you yourself we see its rarest hue.
He has molded your face with such sublime art
That it surprises the eye and transports the heart,
And I can't gaze upon you, you perfect creature,
Without worshipping in you both God and nature,
And sensing in my soul an ardent love
For this, the most beautiful portrait by God above.
At first I feared that my secret passion
Might be a tricky trap laid by Satan,
And I even resolved to flee from your eyes
As if you were something to exorcise.
But I finally learned, oh beauty most lovable,
That my ardor for you could never be culpable,
That I should even consider it right,
And so I submit to my heart's delight.
I confess that I'm playing an audacious part
In presenting to you the gift of my heart,
But I place all my faith in your kindness
Like a beggar-man hindered by blindness.
In you I seek peace, hope, and happiness;
On you depends my torment or my bliss.
And through you alone I will finally be
Happy if you will, or sad if you please.
Elmire. That declaration is very urbane,
But in a man of God it's a bit profane.
You ought to protect your heart a bit better
And reflect more deeply on such a matter.
A saint like you whom we all hail . . .
Tartuffe. I may be holy, but I'm nonetheless male,
And when one sees your heavenly charms,
It's time for reason to throw up its arms.
I know such words from me may seem strange--though,
Madam, after all, I am not an angel,
And if you condemn the confession I'm making,
Admit nonetheless that your beauty's breath-taking.
From the first time I set eyes on your supreme
Splendor, my heart became yours and you my queen.
The ineffable sweetness of your divine gaze
Shattered my stout heart and set it ablaze.
That look conquered all--fasting, prayers, duty--
And turned my vows into praise of your beauty.
My eyes and my sighs have often shown my choice
But to make it still clearer I now add my voice.
If you should look down with a kindly eye
Upon the base woes of a slave such as I
And if your great kindness should happen to lead
You to stoop down and grant what I need,
I should always have for you, oh precious one,
A love that beggars all comparison.
With me your honor will never be damaged;
No disgrace can attend an affair I have managed.
All these gallants at court, for whom wives act absurd,
Are reckless in their deeds and rash in their words.
They endlessly brag about every success.
Each favor they receive, they quickly confess,
And their wagging tongues, on which you rely,
Dishonor the shrine before which they lie.
But men like me burn with a discreet fever,
And we keep your sweet secrets safe forever.
The concern we have for our good reputation
Will also preserve you in your own station;
In us you will find, if you wish it, my dear,
Love without scandal, pleasure without fear.
Elmire. I have heard your words, and your rhetoric
Leaves your point clear--though you lay it on thick.
Aren't you afraid that I could be in the mood
To tell my husband of your solicitude,