Tartuffe by Molière (most motivational books TXT) 📕
Description
The first three acts of Molière’s Tartuffe were first performed for Louis XIV in 1664, but the play was almost immediately suppressed—not because the King disliked it, but because the church resented the insinuation that the pious were frauds. After several different versions were written and performed privately, Tartuffe was eventually published in its final five-act form in 1669.
A comic tale of man taken in by a sanctimonious scoundrel, the characters of Tartuffe, Elmire, and Orgon are considered among some of the great classical theater roles. As the family strives to convince the patriarch that Tartuffe is a religious fraud, the play ultimately focuses on skewering not the hypocrite, but his victims, and the hypocrisy of fervent religious belief unchecked by facts or reason—a defense Molière himself used to overcome the church’s proscriptions. In the end, the play was so impactful that both French and English now use the word “Tartuffe” to refer to a religious hypocrite who feigns virtue.
In its original French, the play is written in twelve-syllable lines of rhyming couplets. Curtis Hidden Page’s translation invokes a popular compromise and renders it into the familiar blank verse without rhymed endings that was popularized by Shakespeare. The translation is considered a seminal by modern translators.
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- Author: Molière
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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? 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.
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.
To Mariane. So! I must learn what’s what from her, you see!
DorineYou might do worse than follow my advice.
OrgonDaughter, 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 Valère;
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.
You’d have him run there just when you do.
Like those who go on purpose to be seen?
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 turtledoves;
You’ll never fail to quarrel, scold, or tease,
And you may do with him whate’er you please.
With him? Do naught but give him horns, I’ll warrant.
OrgonOut on thee, wench!
DorineI tell you he’s cut out for’t;
However great your daughter’s virtue, sir,
His destiny is sure to prove the stronger.
Have done with interrupting. Hold your tongue.
Don’t poke your nose in other people’s business.
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.
OrgonYou’re too officious; pray you, hold your tongue.
Dorine’Tis love of you …
OrgonI want none of your love.
DorineThen I will love you in your own despite.
OrgonYou will, eh?
DorineYes, your honour’s dear to me;
I can’t endure to see you made the butt
Of all men’s ridicule.
Won’t you be still?
Dorine’Twould be a sin to let you make this match.
OrgonWon’t you be still, I say, you impudent viper!
DorineWhat! you are pious, and you lose your temper?
OrgonI’m all wrought up, with your confounded nonsense;
Now, once for all, I tell you hold your tongue.
Then mum’s the word; I’ll take it out in thinking.
OrgonThink all you please; but not a syllable
To me about it, or … you understand!
As a wise father, I’ve considered all
With due deliberation.
I’ll go mad
If I can’t speak.
Though he’s no lady’s man,
Tartuffe is well enough …
A pretty phiz!
OrgonSo that, although you may not care at all
For his best qualities …
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.
To Dorine. So—nothing that I say has any weight?
DorineEh? What’s wrong now? I didn’t speak to you.
OrgonWhat were you doing?
DorineTalking to myself.
OrgonOh! Very well. Aside. Her monstrous impudence
Must be chastised with one good slap in the face.
Daughter, you must approve of my design. …
Think of this husband … I have chosen for you …
To Dorine. Why don’t you talk to yourself?
DorineNothing to say.
OrgonOne little word more.
DorineOh, no, thanks. Not now.
OrgonSure, I’d have caught you.
DorineFaith, I’m no such fool.
OrgonSo, daughter, now obedience is the word;
You must accept my choice with reverence.
Running away.
You’d never catch me marrying such a creature.
OrgonSwinging his hand at her and missing her.
Daughter, you’ve such a pestilent hussy there
I can’t live with her longer, without sin.
I can’t discuss things in the state I’m in.
My mind’s so flustered by her insolent talk,
To calm myself, I must go take a walk.
Say, have you lost the tongue from out your head?
And must I speak your role from A to Zed?
You let them broach a project that’s absurd,
And don’t oppose it with a single word!
What can I do? My father is the master.
DorineDo? Everything, to ward off such disaster.
MarianeBut what?
DorineTell him
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