Tartuffe; Or, The Hypocrite - Жан-Батист Мольер 3 стр.

  My dear good brother-in-law, have you quite done?

  Yes.

  I'm your humble servant.
(Starts to go.)

  Just a word.
  We'll drop that other subject. But you know
  Valere has had the promise of your daughter.

  Yes.

  You had named the happy day.

  'Tis true.

  Then why put off the celebration of it?

  I can't say.

  Can you have some other plan
  In mind?

  Perhaps.

  You mean to break your word?

  I don't say that.

  I hope no obstacle
  Can keep you from performing what you've promised.

  Well, that depends.

  Why must you beat about?
  Valere has sent me here to settle matters.

  Heaven be praised!

  What answer shall I take him?

  Why, anything you please.

  But we must know
  Your plans. What are they?

  I shall do the will
  Of Heaven.

  Come, be serious. You've given
  Your promise to Valere. Now will you keep it?

  Good-bye.
  CLEANTE (alone)
  His love, methinks, has much to fear;
  I must go let him know what's happening here.

  Now, Mariane.

  Yes, father?

  Come; I'll tell you
  A secret.

  Yes What are you looking for?
  ORGON (looking into a small closet-room)
  To see there's no one there to spy upon us;
  That little closet's mighty fit to hide in.
  There! We're all right now. Mariane, in you
  I've always found a daughter dutiful
  And gentle. So I've always love you dearly.

  I'm grateful for your fatherly affection.

  Well spoken, daughter. Now, prove you deserve it
  By doing as I wish in all respects.

  To do so is the height of my ambition.

  Excellent well. What say you of Tartuffe?

  Who? I?

  Yes, you. Look to it how you answer.

  Why! I'll say of him anything you please.

  ORGON, MARIANE, DORINE (coming in quietly and standing behind
  Orgon, so that he does not see her)

  Well spoken. A good girl. Say then, my daughter,
  That all his person shines with noble merit,
  That he has won your heart, and you would like
  To have him, by my choice, become your husband.
  Eh?

  Eh?

  What say you?

  Please, what did you say?

  What?

  Surely I mistook you, sir?

  How now?

  Who is it, father, you would have me say
  Has won my heart, and I would like to have
  Become my husband, by your choice?

  Tartuffe.

  But, father, I protest it isn't true!
  Why should you make me tell this dreadful lie?

  Because I mean to have it be the truth.
  Let this suffice for you: I've settled it.

  What, father, you would ?

  Yes, child, I'm resolved
  To graft Tartuffe into my family.
  So he must be your husband. That I've settled.
  And since your duty ..
  (Seeing Dorine)
  What are you doing there?
  Your curiosity is keen, my girl,
  To make you come eavesdropping on us so.

  Upon my word, I don't know how the rumour
  Got started if 'twas guess-work or mere chance
  But I had heard already of this match,
  And treated it as utter stuff and nonsense.

  What! Is the thing incredible?

  So much so
  I don't believe it even from yourself, sir.

  I know a way to make you credit it.

  No, no, you're telling us a fairly tale!

  I'm telling you just what will happen shortly.

  Stuff!

  Daughter, what I say is in good earnest.

  There, there, don't take your father seriously;
  He's fooling.

  But I tell you

  No. No use.
  They won't believe you.

  If I let my anger

  Well, then, we do believe you; and the worse
  For you it is. What! Can a grown-up man
  With that expanse of beard across his face
  Be mad enough to want ?

  You hark me:
  You've taken on yourself here in this house
  A sort of free familiarity
  That I don't like, I tell you frankly, girl.

  There, there, let's not get angry, sir, I beg you.
  But are you making game of everybody?
  Your daughter's not cut out for 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?

  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.

  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: