________________________________________________
_ ACT II
SCENE I
Orgon, Mariane
Orgon.
Mariane.
Mariane.
Yes.
Orgon.
Come here. We need to speak
Privately.
Mariane.
Father, what is it you seek?
Orgon
[looking in the closet].
I'm seeing if anyone can overhear us.
This is a perfect place for such a purpose.
There now, it's okay. Mariane, I find
You endowed with a heart that's sweet and kind
And you have always been most dear to me.
Mariane.
A father's love brings true felicity.
Orgon.
Well said, my child! And to earn it fully
You should devote yourself to contenting me.
Mariane.
That's how my devotion is put to the proof.
Orgon.
Good. Now what do you think of our guest, Tartuffe?
Mariane.
Who me?
Orgon.
You. Think well before you reply.
Mariane.
Oh my! Tell me what to say . . . and I'll comply.
[Dorine enters quietly and hides herself behind Orgon without being seen.]
Orgon.
That's sensibly spoken. Now tell me, girl,
That his merit shines like a gleaming pearl,
That he warms your heart, and that you would rejoice
To have him be your husband by my choice.
Eh?
[Mariane recoils in dismay.]
Mariane. Eh?
Orgon.
What's that?
Mariane.
Please?
Orgon.
What?
Mariane.
Am I in error?
Orgon.
Why?
Mariane.
Whom do you wish that I should now swear
Touches my heart--and who would rejoice me
If we joined, by your choice, in matrimony?
Orgon. Tartuffe.
Mariane.
Out of the question, father, I assure
You! Why urge on me such an imposture?
Orgon.
But, my dear, I wish it to be true,
And it should be enough that I've chosen for you.
Mariane. What? Father, would you . . .?
Orgon.
Yes, I intend, you see
To unite in marriage Tartuffe and my family.
He will be your husband. I do declare it!
Since you have promised . . .
SCENE II
Dorine, Orgon, Mariane
Orgon
[perceiving Dorine].
What do you stare at?
You must be eaten up with curiosity
To eavesdrop on my daughter and me.
Dorine.
I don't know whether the rumor I hear
Is sly conjecture or a wicked smear;
But I've just heard word of this marriage,
And I trust it is only verbiage.
Orgon.
Why? Is the idea itself so very absurd?
Dorine.
I wouldn't believe it, sir, if you gave your word!
Orgon.
I will make you believe it by-and-by.
Dorine.
Yes. You're going to tell us a bald-faced lie.
Orgon.
I am only saying what you will soon see.
Dorine.
Nonsense!
Orgon.
What I say, dear girl, will soon be.
Dorine. Go on. Don't believe him! It's too bizarre!
He's joking.
Orgon.
I say . . .
Dorine.
No, you've gone too far,
And no one believes you.
Orgon.
Damn you, you shrew . . .
Dorine.
Well, I believe you then; the worse for you.
What? Monsieur, can you pose as one who's sage,
Gravely stroking your breaded visage?
And still be fool enough to wish . . .
Orgon.
Hear me!
I have given you too much liberty,
And it no longer gives me any pleasure.
Dorine.
Monsieur, please. Keep your anger within measure.
Are you mocking us with your silly plot?
Your daughter is no match for a bigot;
He has other schemes to worry about.
And what would you gain if she wed this lout?
With your wealth, what benefit would it bring
To pick a bum . . .
Orgon.
Ssh! Say he has nothing;
For that reason, you should revere him the more.
He is a holy man and nobly poor.
It raises him up to greater grandeur
That he has renounced all wealth by his pure
Detachment from the merely temporal
And his powerful love for the Eternal.
But my assistance may give him the means
To restore his lands and remove his liens.
He is a man of repute in the land of his birth,
And, even as he is, he's a man of worth.
Dorine.
Yes, so he tells us, but his vanity
Does not sit so well with true piety.
A man pleased with a simple sanctity
Needn't vaunt his name and his dignity,
And the humility born of devotion
Suffers beneath such blatant ambition.
What good is his pride? . . . But perhaps I digress:
Let's speak of the man--not his nobleness.
Can you bestow, without feeling like a rat,
A girl like this on a man like that?
And shouldn't you think of propriety
And foresee the end with anxiety?
We know that some girls cannot remain chaste
If their husband's tush is not to their taste,
And that the best-laid plans for an honest life
Are somewhat easier for the best-laid wife,
And that many a man with a horned head
Has driven his wife to another man's bed.
It is entirely too much to ask
That a wife be faithful to a flabby ass.
And one who gives a girl to a man she hates
Is guilty before God for all her mistakes.
Consider the perils you expose yourself to.
Orgon.
So you think I should learn how to live from you!
Dorine.
You could do worse than follow my lead.
Orgon.
Dear daughter, do drop this maid's daffy creed;
I know what's best for you in this affair.
It's true I betrothed you to young Valere,
But I hear he likes his dicing and drinking
And even worse is inclined to free-thinking.
I note with regret we don't see him at mass.
Dorine.
Must he be there the same moment you pass
Like those who attend only to be seen?
Orgon.
Your advice isn't wanted. Don't intervene.
Tartuffe is on the path to salvation,
And that is a treasure past calculation.
This wedding will bring blessings beyond measure,
And be crowned with great sweetness and pleasure.
Together you will live, thriving on love
Like new-born babes, or a pair of turtledoves.
You will never be found in angry debate
For you will find all that you wish in this mate.
Dorine.
She'll only make him a cuckold, I'm sure.
Orgon. What?
Dorine.
He looks just like a caricature,
And his fate, monsieur, will make him an ass
No matter how much virtue your daughter has.
Orgon.
Don't interrupt me and remember your place
And quit sticking your nose up in my face!
Dorine.
I'm only trying, sir, to protect you.
[Hereafter she always interrupts him at the
moment he begins speaking to his daughter.]
Orgon.
You're too kind, but do shut up--please do!
Dorine.
If I didn't like you . . .
Orgon.
I don't need liking.
Dorine.
But I will like you, sir, despite your griping.
Orgon.
Oh?
Dorine.
Your honor is dear and I'd be provoked
To find you the butt of some smutty joke.
Orgon. Can't you keep quiet?
Dorine.
In all good conscience,
It's a shame to foster such an alliance.
Orgon.
Shut up, you viper, with your brazen traits . . .
Dorine.
What? You've been reborn, yet you give way to hate?
Orgon.
Yes, your twaddle has made me quite high-strung,
And I now insist that you hold your tongue.
Dorine.
All right. But I'll think in silence nonetheless.
Orgon.
Think if you wish to, but strive for success
At shutting your mouth . . . or beware.
[Turning to his daughter]
Let's see,
I have weighed everything quite maturely.
Dorine
[aside].
I hate this silence.
[She falls quiet every time Orgon turns toward her.]
Orgon.
Without being smug, I'll
Say Tartuffe's face . . .
Dorine.
Yes, he has a fine muzzle!
Orgon.
Is so fine that even if you forgot
His other traits . . .
Dorine
[aside].
And they're a sorry lot!
[Orgon turns toward Dorine and, with his arms folded,
listens while staring in her face.]
If I were in her place, most assuredly
No man would wed me with impunity,
And I'd prove to him right after the wedding
That a wife's vengeance lies in the bedding!
Orgon
[to Dorine].
So you refuse to obey me, is that true?
Dorine.
What's your beef, sir? I'm not speaking to you.
Orgon.
Then what are you doing?
Dorine.
Soliloquizing.
Orgon.
Very well.
[aside]
To give her a good chastising,
I think she needs a taste of the back of my hand.
[He prepares to slap her, but each time Dorine sees him
looking at her, she stands silent and erect.]
Child, you should approve of all I have planned . . .
And have faith in the spouse . . . who's my designee.
[To Dorine.]
Speak to yourself!
Dorine.
I've nothing to say to me.
Orgon.
Just one little word.
Dorine.
I'm not in the mood.
Orgon.
Because I was ready!
Dorine.
What ineptitude!
Orgon.
Now, daughter, let's see some obedience.
Accept my choice with complete deference.
Dorine
[running away]. I'd thumb my nose at such a silly spouse.
[Orgon tries to slap Dorine and misses.]
Orgon.
Daughter, your maid is a pest and would arouse
Vice in a saint--she's an absolute shrew!
I'm so upset that I can't continue.
Her taunts have nearly driven me to swear,
And I need to calm down in the open air.
SCENE III
Dorine, Mariane
Dorine.
Have you entirely lost your voice and heart?
Why must I continue playing your part?
To think you allow such a mad proposal
Without voicing even a meek refusal!
Mariane.
How can I resist such a harsh patriarch?
Dorine.
By any means! Don't be an easy mark!
Mariane.
But how?
Dorine.
Tell him you can't love on command,
That you marry for yourself, not by demand,
And since you are most concerned in these affairs
You'll choose for yourself the sire of his heirs,
And that, if Tartuffe is so charming to him,
He can wed him himself--if that's his whim.
Mariane.
A father, I'm sure, has absolute power;
Before him I can only cringe and cower.
Dorine.
Use your head. Valere wants to tie the knot.
Do you really love him, I ask--or not?
Mariane.
Your injustice to me has a mortal sting!
Dorine, how can you ask me such a thing?
Haven't I poured out my whole soul to you,
And don't you know yet that my love is true?
Dorine.
How do I know that your heart echoes your voice
And that this love is truly your own choice?
Mariane.
Your doubts, Dorine, wrong me greatly;
My real feelings are shown far too plainly.
Dorine.
You love him then?
Mariane.
Yes, with the strongest passion.
Dorine.
And he seems to love you in the same fashion?
Mariane.
I think so.
Dorine.
And both of you burn equally
For this union in marriage?
Mariane.
Certainly.
Dorine.
And about this other man, what's your intention?
Mariane.
I'd die before I'd submit to coercion.
Dorine.
Fine! I hadn't thought of that recourse.
Death would give you such a forcible divorce.
What an ingenious remedy! Geez!
I hate to hear such stupid ideas.
Mariane.
Good Heavens! What a rotten mood you're in!
You have no pity for my pain, Dorine!
Dorine.
I have no sympathy for foolishness
And those who meet a crisis with such weakness.
Mariane.
But what do you want me to do? I was born frail.
Dorine.
A woman in love needs a heart of steel.
Mariane.
But haven't I kept it free for my lover
Whose task it is to win me from my father?
Dorine.
What! If your father is a mad fanatic
Whose love for Tartuffe is completely lunatic
And who has blocked the match you are now bewailing,
Is your lover to be damned for failing?
Mariane.
But am I to display how deeply I'm bitten
By rejecting Tartuffe like one who's love-smitten?
Am I, because of Valere's strength and beauty,
To renounce my modesty and duty?
And would you have me show my heart to all . . . ?
Dorine.
No, no, not at all. I'm wrong to forestall
Your marriage to Tartuffe, and my defiance
Is apparent in barring that alliance.
What reason have I for my outrageous
Attempt to stop something so advantageous?
Tartuffe! Oh! Isn't he something to behold?
Surely Tartuffe is not made from such a mold,
If rightly viewed, as to make a person laugh;
'Twould be an honor to be his better half.
The whole world already crowns him with glory;--
Both in physique and character he's laudatory;
He has red ears and a florid, flushing face
With him for a mate you'd live in joyful grace.
Mariane.
Dear God!
Dorine.
What delight you will feel within
To know that you're wed to a man like him.
Mariane.
Oh! Please stop talking, and show me the way
To avoid this marriage. I will obey,
You've said enough, and I'm ready to be led.
Dorine.
No. A good daughter must obey her dad--
Even if he wishes her to make love
To an ape. What are you complaining of?
You will proceed to his little villa
Where you will get your absolute fill of
Uncles and cousins to be entertained.
Right away you'll move among the most urbane
Of hicks. First you will make some overture
To the wives of the judge and the tax assessor,
Who will kindly seat you on a folding chair.
During Carnival, you may hope to have there
A ball with two bagpipes for an orchestra
And maybe some puppets and a tame gorilla.
But if your husband . . .
Mariane.
Oh! You're killing me.
Please help me avoid this catastrophe.
Dorine. I am your servant.
Mariane.
Oh! Dorine, mercy . . .
Dorine.
To punish you, I ought to leave things be.
Mariane. My dear girl!
Dorine.
No.
Mariane.
If I declared my love . . .
Dorine.
No. Tartuffe is your man; that's sure enough.
Mariane.
You know that I've always trusted that you'd
Help me . . .
Dorine.
No. I'm sure you will be tartuffed.
Mariane.
All right! Since my fate no longer moves you,
Henceforth you may leave me alone and blue;
From deep sorrow my heart will draw relief,
And I know an absolute cure for my grief.
[She starts to leave.]
Dorine.
Whoa! I'm not really angry. Come back,--do.
In spite of everything, I pity you.
Mariane.
If I'm to be the one you crucify,
You'll see, Dorine, how quickly I shall die.
Dorine.
Don't torture yourself. We can easily
Block them. . . . But look! I think that's Valere I see.
SCENE IV
Valere, Mariane, Dorine
Valere. Gossip is singing a little ditty,
My dear,--news to me and very pretty.
Mariane.
What?
Valere.
That you will marry Tartuffe.
Mariane.
It's true
That my father has such a plan in view.
Valere. Your father . . .
Mariane.
Has altered his inclination.
Through him, all this has come to my attention.
Valere.
What? Seriously?
Mariane.
Yes, seriously.
He wants this wedding--quite decidedly!
Valere.
And how does your heart respond to this plan,
Madam?
Mariane.
I don't know.
Valere.
Your response is plain.
You don't know?
Mariane.
No.
Valere.
No?
Mariane.
What do you recommend?
Valere. I recommend that you accept this husband.
Mariane. You recommend that?
Valere.
Yes.
Mariane.
Really?
Valere.
I do.
A wonderful choice, well worth attending to.
Mariane.
Very well! That's advice, sir, that I accept.
Valere.
I doubt that taking it causes you regret.
Mariane.
No more regret than giving it causes you.
Valere.
I gave it thinking pleasure would ensue.
Mariane.
And I, I'll take it--simply to please you.
Dorine
[moving upstage]. Let's see what comes of this hullabaloo.
Valere.
So that's your love for me? And did you lie
When you . . .
Mariane.
Please, let's not speak of days gone by.
You've told me quite plainly that I must embrace
As my mate the man they've chosen for that place,
And now I say that I promise to obey
Since you so kindly advise me that way.
Valere.
Don't excuse yourself through circumlocution:
You've already made your own resolution,
And you've seized upon a frivolous excuse
To justify this lamentable ruse.
Mariane.
Quite true and well said.
Valere.
No doubt, and your soul
Never lost, for love of me, its self-control.
Mariane.
Alas! Alas! You may as well think so.
Valere.
Yes, I may think so, but my broken heart
Foresees you, too, suffering from Love's dart;
I know to whom I'll take my heart and hand.
Mariane.
No doubt, and the love that merit can command...
Valere.
Dear God, let's leave merit to one side.
I haven't much of it, as you have signified,
But I know where there's a woman, soft-eyed
And open-hearted . . . and this double-cross
May make her more inclined to recompense my loss.
Mariane.
The loss isn't great; and your fickleness
Will soon lead you to find a new mistress.
Valere.
I'll do my best--of that you may be sure!
When one is forgotten, it's hard to endure,
And so I, too, must struggle to forget.
If I can't do it, I'll fake it . . . and yet
I could never forgive my own servility
If I kept loving one who abandoned me.
Mariane.
What a noble, uplifting sentiment!
Valere.
Quite so. Everyone should give it their assent.
What? Do you think that I should perpetuate
The flame of love that I have felt of late,
And see you pass into another's arms
Without letting my heart seek other charms?
Mariane.
No, indeed. It's what I want, and I vow
I wish the thing were to happen right now.
Valere.
You do?
Mariane.
Yes.
Valere.
That's enough insults from you,
Madam, and now I will bid you adieu.
[He starts to leave; each time he does so, he quickly comes back.]
Mariane.
Very well.
Valere
[coming back]. At least remember that you
Are the one who forced me down this avenue.
Mariane. Yes.
Valere.
And that I am doing nothing more
Than following the path you took before.
Mariane.
So be it.
Valere
[leaving].
Fine. I'm doing what you want.
Mariane.
Good.
Valere
[returning again].
I'm leaving forever--not some short jaunt.
Mariane.
The sooner the better.
[He begins to leave and, when he is near the door, he returns.]
Valere.
Eh?
Mariane.
What?
Valere.
You called?
Mariane.
Me? No.
Valere.
Ah. Well then, I'll soon be abroad.
Adieu, madam. [He slowly starts to leave.]
Mariane.
Adieu.
Dorine
[to Mariane].
I think, perchance,
You've lost your mind through extravagance,
And I've only allowed you to go on
Like this to see what folly you might spawn.
Hey! Valere!
[She grabs him by the arm and he makes a show of resistance.]
Valere.
Huh? What do you want, Dorine?
Dorine. Come here.
Valere.
No. I'm too mad. Don't intervene.
She wishes me to drain this bitter cup.
Dorine.
Stop.
Valere.
No, can't you see that my mind's made up?
Dorine. Ah!
Mariane
[aside].
My presence pains him, I drive him away.
I think it would be best if I didn't stay.
Dorine
[She leaves Valere and runs after Mariane].
Now where are you going?
Mariane.
Let go.
Dorine.
Then return.
Mariane.
No, no, Dorine. It's none of your concern.
Valere
[aside].
I see that my presence causes her pain;
It would be best if I freed her again.
Dorine
[She leaves Mariane and runs to Valere].
Wait! May you both be damned if I want this mess!
Come here you two and settle this fracas.
[She pulls them both together.]
Valere
[to Dorine]. But what's your plan?
Mariane
[to Dorine].
What do you wish to do?
Dorine.
To patch things up a bit between you two.
[To Valere]. Are you out of your mind to fight in this way?
Valere.
Did you hear her treat me like a popinjay?
Dorine
[to Mariane].
Are you mad to have gotten so enraged?
Mariane.
Did you see what happened? It can't be assuaged.
Dorine.
You're both dunces.
[To Valere]
She wants nothing more
Than to be the one woman you adore.
[To Mariane] He loves you alone, and to make you his wife
Is his only desire--I swear on my life!
Mariane
[to Valere].
How, then, could you give me such bad advice?
Valere.
And how could you demand it? Was that wise?
Dorine.
You're both insane. Now give your hands to me.
[To Valere]
Come on.
Valere
[giving his hand to Dorine].
What for?
Dorine.
There. [To Mariane] Now yours, don't you see.
Mariane
[giving her hand as well].
What's the point of all this?
Dorine.
Lord! Quick! Come on!
Your love for each other can't be withdrawn.
[Valere and Mariane hold hands for awhile without looking at each other.]
Valere
[turning toward Mariane].
Don't react so painfully by the book.
Try giving a fellow a civil look.
[Mariane turns her gaze on Valere and gives him a shy smile.]
Dorine.
All lovers are crazy! It's sad, but true.
Valere
[to Mariane]. Am I not right to complain about you?
And to tell the truth, weren't you rather unkind
To delight in trying to unsettle my mind?
Mariane.
What about you? Aren't you the bigger ingrate . . . ?
Dorine.
Let's wait until later for this debate
And try instead to stop this marriage.
Mariane.
Tell us, then, what we can use for leverage.
Dorine.
We will wage warfare on every front.
Your father is bluffing and playing a stunt.
[To Mariane] But it might be better for you to seem
To sweetly consent to his crazy scheme
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! Your 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. _
Read next: Act 3
Read previous: Act 1
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