Tartuffe

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 gentleman.

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;
’Twill be all steeped in sweetness and delight.
You’ll live together, in your faithful loves,
Like two sweet children, like two turtledoves;
You’ll never fail 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 thee, 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, ’tis for your own good.

Orgon

You’re too officious; pray you, hold your tongue.

Dorine

’Tis 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

’Twould 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.3

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 role 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