Tartuffe by Molière (most motivational books TXT) 📕

I think there’s naught more odious
Than whited sepulchres of outward unction,
Those barefaced charlatans, those hireling zealots,
Whose sacrilegious, treacherous pretence
Deceives at will, and with impunity
Makes mockery of all that men hold sacred;
Men who, enslaved to selfish interests,
Make trade and merchandise of godliness,
And try to purchase influence and office
With false eye-rollings and affected raptures;
Those men, I say, who with uncommon zeal
Seek their own fortunes on the road to heaven;
Who, skilled in prayer, have always much to ask,
And live at court to preach retirement;
Who reconcile religion with their vices,
Are quick to anger, vengeful, faithless, tricky,
And, to destroy a man, will have the boldness
To call their private grudge the cause of heaven;
All the more dangerous, since in their anger
They use against us weapons men revere,
And since they make the world applaud their passion,
And seek to stab us with a sacred sword.
There are too many of this canting kind.
Still, the sincere are easy to distinguish;
And many splendid patterns may be found,
In our own time, before our very eyes
Look at Ariston, Periandre, Oronte,
Alcidamas, Clitandre, and Polydore;
No one denies their claim to true religion;
Yet they’re no braggadocios of virtue,
They do not make insufferable display,
And their religion’s human, tractable;
They are not always judging all our actions,
They’d think such judgment savoured of presumption;
And, leaving pride of words to other men,
’Tis by their deeds alone they censure ours.
Evil appearances find little credit
With them; they even incline to think the best
Of others. No caballers, no intriguers,
They mind the business of their own right living.
They don’t attack a sinner tooth and nail,
For sin’s the only object of their hatred;
Nor are they overzealous to attempt
Far more in heaven’s behalf than heaven would have ’em.
That is my kind of man, that is true living,
That is the pattern we should set ourselves.
Your fellow was not fashioned on this model;
You’re quite sincere in boasting of his zeal;
But you’re deceived, I think, by false pretences. Orgon

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

Cléante

Yes.

Orgon

I’m your humble servant.

Starts to go. Cléante

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

Orgon

Yes.

Cléante

You had named the happy day.

Orgon

’Tis true.

Cléante

Then why put off the celebration of it?

Orgon

I can’t say.

Cléante

Can you have some other plan
In mind?

Orgon

Perhaps.

Cléante

You mean to break your word?

Orgon

I don’t say that.

Cléante

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

Orgon

Well, that depends.

Cléante

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

Orgon

Heaven be praised!

Cléante

What answer shall I take him?

Orgon

Why, anything you please.

Cléante

But we must know
Your plans. What are they?

Orgon

I shall do the will
Of Heaven.

Cléante

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

Orgon

Goodbye.

Cléante

Alone. His love, methinks, has much to fear;
I must go let him know what’s happening here.

Act II Scene I Orgon, Mariane. Orgon

Now, Mariane.

Mariane

Yes, father?

Orgon

Come; I’ll tell you
A secret.

Mariane

Yes⁠ ⁠… What are you looking for?

Orgon

Looking into a small closet-room.