________________________________________________
_ 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,
And that a sudden knowledge of that sort
Might set back your hopes of his lasting support?
Tartuffe.
I know that you are only too gracious
And that you will forgive my audacious
Deeds since they spring from a human failing
In that passionate love that you are bewailing,
And that you will reflect when you view things afresh
That I am not blind, and a man's only flesh.
Elmire.
Others might take things differently, I suppose,
But discretion prevails, and I won't expose
This matter to my spouse. In return, it's true,
I do want one little favor from you:
To push forward without any sly snare
The wedding of Mariane and Valere,
To renounce on your own the unjust power
That would enrich you with another's dower,
And . . .
SCENE IV
Elmire, Damis, Tartuffe
Damis
[coming out of the closet in which he was hiding].
No, madam, no. All this must be exposed.
By hiding here I've heard all he proposed,
And God in His goodness has guided me
To confound this noisome bastard's treachery,
To discover a way to take my vengeance
For his hypocrisy and insolence,
To wake up my father, and to justly screw
This scumbag who wants to make love to you.
Elmire.
No,Damis. It's enough if he has striven
To reform and merit the pardon I've given.
Don't make me retract what I have avowed.
I don't choose to discuss scandal out loud:
A woman laughs at these masculine foibles,
And never plagues her mate with paltry troubles.
Damis.
You have your own reasons for acting so,
And I have reasons for my quid-pro-quo.
The very thought of sparing him is a joke,
And the insolent pride of this base bloke
Has triumphed too often over my just wrath,
And has sown too much trouble along my path.
For too long that liar has ruled my old man
Blocking both my love and that of Mariane.
His perfidy must be brought to light of day,
And for that God gives us a ready way.
For this occasion I thank the good Lord;
It is far too lucky to be ignored.
The only way to deserve to lose it
Is to have it in hand and not to use it.
Elmire.
But Damis . . .
Damis.
No, please, my mind is made up.
It is time to rejoice and fill up the cup,
And you're trying in vain to obligated me
To give up the pleasure of my victory.
I'm going to expose this affair without delay;
This is just the thing that will make my day.
SCENE V
Orgon, Damis, Tartuffe, Elmire
Damis.
Father, it may surprise . . . and amuse you greatly . . .
To hear the news of what's gone on lately.
You're being well paid for all your caresses
By your friend's response to those tendernesses.
His great love for you has shown its hold
Through his eagerness to make you a cuckold.
And I heard him here confess to your bride
A love that has made him heart-sick and dove-eyed.
At all costs she wants to remain discreet
And preserve his secret--because she's sweet--
But I cannot bear the man's impudence
And think that my silence would cause you offense.
Elmire.
Yes, I would never disturb my husband's rest
By reporting the words of silly pest.
My honor does not depend on such a thing
Since I'm well able to resist flattering.
You wouldn't have spoken out against my view
If I had any power over you.
SCENE VI
Orgon, Damis, Tartuffe
Orgon. What do I hear? Good God! Is it credible?
Tartuffe. Yes, brother, I'm wicked and culpable,
A sorry sinner, full of iniquity,
As great a wretch as there ever could be.
My entire life has been soiled with evil;
It's nothing but a mass of sinful upheaval.
And I see that God has, for my punishment,
Chosen to mortify me with this event.
Let them connect any crime with my name;
I waive all defense and take all the blame.
Believe what they tell you, stoke up your wrath,
And drive me like a felon from your path.
The shame that I bear cannot be too great,
For I know I deserve a much worse fate.
Orgon
[to his son].
Traitor! Do you dare, by your duplicity,
To taint both his virtue and purity?
Damis.
What? Can the false meekness of this hypocrite
Cause you to belie . . .
Orgon.
Shut up, you misfit.
Tartuffe.
Oh, let him go on. You are wrong to scold,
And you'd be wise to believe the story he's told.
In light of his claims, why should you favor me?
What do you know of my culpability?
Why put your faith in my exterior?
Why should you think that I'm superior?
No, no, appearances are fooling you,
I am the kind of man you should eschew.
The whole world thinks that I have earned God's blessing,
But the plain truth is . . . that I'm worth nothing.
[Addressing Damis]
Yes, my dear son, speak. And don't merely chide.
Accuse me of treason, theft, and homicide.
Call me every foul name you can recall.
I deny nothing. I merit it all.
And I beg on my knees to bear this chagrin
As the shameful result of my life of sin.
Orgon
[To Tartuffe].
That's too much, brother.
[To his son]
Why can't you let go,
Scoundrel?
Damis.
What! Have his words seduced you so . . .
Orgon Keep quiet, you bum!
[To Tartuffe].
Brother, please arise.
[To his son].
Shame!
Damis.
He can . . .
Orgon.
Silence!
Damis.
Damn! Do you surmise . . .
Orgon.
If you say one word, I will break your arm.
Tartuffe. In the name of God, brother, do no harm.
I would rather face a ravening beast
Than that your dear son should be harmed in the least.
Orgon
[to his son].
Ingrate!
Tartuffe.
Leave him in peace. On my two knees
I beg you to give him your grace . . .
Orgon
[throwing himself to his knees and embracing Tartuffe].
Don't! Please!
[To his son]
Wretch, see his goodness.
Damis.
Then . . .
Orgon.
Shhh!
Damis.
I . . .
Orgon.
Cease, I say.
I'm aware of your motive in this foray:
You all hate him, and now I see how my wife,
Children, and maid conspire against his life.
You impudently try every trick you can
To alienate me from this holy man,
But the harder you try to drive him away,
The harder I'll try to get him to stay.
And I'll hasten his marriage to Mariane
To demolish the pride of this whole clan.
Damis.
So you will force her to marry this fellow?
Orgon.
Yes, this very night, to see you bellow.
I defy you all, and stand here to say
I am the master and you must obey.
Come now. Retract your words, oh foul pollution!
Throw yourself down and demand absolution.
Damis.
Who, me? Of that villain, by whose pretense . . .
Orgon.
So you refuse, you scum, and your impertinence
Persists? [To Tartuffe] A stick! A staff! Don't hold me back.
[To his son] Get out of my house and don't even pack,
And never again let me see your face.
Damis.
Yes, I will go, but . . .
Orgon.
Quickly! Leave this place.
I am cutting you off and what is worse
I am leaving you with my heart-felt curse.
SCENE VII
Orgon, Tartuffe
Orgon. To offend in that way a saintly man!
Tartuffe.
Heavenly Lord pardon him if you can.
[To Orgon.] If you only knew with what pain
I see them trying to blacken my name. . . .
Orgon.
Alas!
Tartuffe.
The mere thought of this ingratitude
Makes me suffer from a torture so crude . . .
The horror I feel . . . My soul longs to cry . . .
I can't even speak, and I'm sure I will die.
Orgon
[He runs weeping to the door through which he had chased his son.]
Villain! How I regret that I held my hand
And that I did not crush you where you stand.
[To Tartuffe.]
Calm yourself, brother and try not to fret.
Tartuffe.
Let's stop these squabbles that end in regret.
The great friction I have caused makes me grieve,
And I believe, brother, that I should leave.
Orgon.
What? Surely you jest?
Tartuffe.
They hate me and I see
That they want you to doubt my integrity.
Orgon.
Who cares! Do you think I'll listen to them?
Tartuffe.
No doubt they'll continue their stratagem;
And the same tales that you reject today
You may find credible some other day.
Orgon. No, brother, never.
Tartuffe.
Ah, brother, a man's mate
Can easily make her spouse speculate.
Orgon.
No, no.
Tartuffe.
Let me leave here at once and so
Escape the threat of another low blow.
Orgon.
No, please remain. I can't live without you.
Tartuffe.
Well! I suppose I will suffer if I do.
Still, if you wish . . .
Orgon.
Oh!
Tartuffe.
All right! It's a pact.
But in future I know how I must act.
Honor is tender, and friendship engages
Me to prevent gossip--however outrageous.
I'll avoid your wife and you will not see me . . .
Orgon.
No, in spite of everyone, you and she
Must often meet. I love to make a stir,
So day and night let them see you with her.
No, that's not enough, but this will make them stew:
I don't want to have any heir but you,
And I'm going to legally designate
You as the owner of my whole estate.
A frank and true friend, whom I take as my son,
Is dearer to me than my wife or children.
Will you accept the offer I am making?
Tartuffe.
May God's will be done in this undertaking!
Orgon.
Poor man! Let's quickly put it all in writing,
And let their envy choke on its own spiting. _
Read next: Act 4
Read previous: Act 2
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