Tartuffe | Page 9

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 Valere; 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 turtle-doves; 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