Act IScene I
Madame Pernelle and Flipotte, her servant; Elmire, Mariane, Cleante, Damis, Dorine
Madame Pernelle
Come, come, Flipotte, and let me get away.
Elmire
You hurry so, I hardly can attend you.
Madame Pernelle
Then don’t, my daughter-in law. Stay where you are.I can dispense with your polite attentions.
Elmire
We’re only paying what is due you, mother.Why must you go away in such a hurry?
Madame Pernelle
Because I can’t endure your carryings-on,And no one takes the slightest pains to please me.I leave your house, I tell you, quite disgusted;You do the opposite of my instructions;You’ve no respect for anything; each oneMust have his say; it’s perfect pandemonium.
Dorine
If ...
Madame Pernelle
You’re a servant wench, my girl, and muchToo full of gab, and too impertinentAnd free with your advice on all occasions.
Damis
But ...
Madame Pernelle
You’re a fool, my boy—f, o, o, lJust spells your name. Let grandma tell you thatI’ve said a hundred times to my poor son,Your father, that you’d never come to goodOr give him anything but plague and torment.
Mariane
I think ...
Madame Pernelle
O dearie me, his little sister!You’re all demureness, butter wouldn’t meltIn your mouth, one would think to look at you.Still waters, though, they say ... you know the proverb;And I don’t like your doings on the sly.
Elmire
But, mother ...
Madame Pernelle
Daughter, by your leave, your conductIn everything is altogether wrong;You ought to set a good example for ’em;Their dear departed mother did much better.You are extravagant; and it offends me,To see you always decked out like a princess.A woman who would please her husband’s eyesAlone, wants no such wealth of fineries.
Cleante
But, madam, after all ...
Madame Pernelle
Sir, as for you,The lady’s brother, I esteem you highly,Love and respect you. But, sir, all the same,If I were in my son’s, her husband’s, place,I’d urgently entreat you not to comeWithin our doors. You preach a way of livingThat decent people cannot tolerate.I’m rather frank with you; but that’s my way—I don’t mince matters, when I mean a thing.
Damis
Mr. Tartuffe, your friend, is mighty lucky ...
Madame Pernelle
He is a holy man, and must be heeded;I can’t endure, with any show of patience,To hear a scatterbrains like you attack him.
Damis
What! Shall I let a bigot criticasterCome and usurp a tyrant’s power here?And shall we never dare amuse ourselvesTill this fine gentleman deigns to consent?
Dorine
If we must hark to him, and heed his maxims,There’s not a thing we do but what’s a crime;He censures everything, this zealous carper.
Madame Pernelle
And all he censures is well censured, too.He wants to guide you on the way to heaven;My son should train you all to love him well.
Damis
No, madam, look you, nothing—not my fatherNor anything—can make me tolerate him.I should belie my feelings not to say so.His actions rouse my wrath at every turn;And I foresee that there must come of itAn open rupture with this sneaking scoundrel.
Dorine
Besides, ’tis downright scandalous to seeThis unknown upstart master of the house—This vagabond, who hadn’t, when he came,Shoes to his feet, or clothing worth six farthings,And who so far forgets his place, as nowTo censure everything, and rule the roost!
Madame Pernelle
Eh! Mercy sakes alive! Things would go betterIf all were governed by his pious orders.
Dorine
He passes for a saint in your opinion.In fact, he’s nothing but a hypocrite.
Madame Pernelle
Just listen to her tongue!
Dorine
I wouldn’t trust him,Nor yet his Lawrence, without bonds and surety.
Madame Pernelle
I don’t know what the servant’s characterMay be; but I can guarantee the masterA holy man. You hate him and reject himBecause he tells home truths to all of you.’Tis sin alone that moves his heart to anger,And heaven’s interest is his only motive.
Dorine
Of course. But why, especially of late,Can he let nobody come near the house?Is heaven offended at a civil callThat he should make so great a fuss about it?I’ll tell you, if you like, just what I think;
Pointing to Elmire
Upon my word, he’s jealous of our mistress.
Madame Pernelle
You hold your tongue, and think what you are saying.He’s not alone in censuring these visits;The turmoil that attends your sort of people,Their carriages forever at the door,And all their noisy footmen, flocked together,Annoy the neighbourhood, and raise a scandal.I’d gladly think there’s nothing really wrong;But it makes talk; and that’s not as it should be.
Cleante
Eh! madam, can you hope to keep folk’s tonguesFrom wagging? It would be a grievous thingIf, for the fear of idle talk about us,We had to sacrifice our friends. No, no;Even if we could bring ourselves to do it,Think you that everyone would then be silenced?Against backbiting there is no defenceSo let us try to live in innocence,To silly tattle pay no heed at all,And leave the gossips free to vent their gall.
Dorine
Our neighbour Daphne, and her little husband,Must be the ones who slander us, I’m thinking.Those whose own conduct’s most ridiculous,Are always quickest to speak ill of others;They never fail to seize at once uponThe slightest hint of any love affair,And spread the news of it with glee, and give itThe character they’d have the world believe in.By others’ actions, painted in their colours,They hope to justify their own; they think,In the false hope of some resemblance, eitherTo make their own intrigues seem innocent,Or else to make their neighbours share the blameWhich they are loaded with by everybody.
Madame Pernelle
These arguments are nothing to the purpose.Orante, we all know, lives a perfect life;Her thoughts are all of heaven; and I have heardThat she condemns the company you keep.
Dorine
O admirable pattern! Virtuous dame!She lives the model of austerity;But age has brought this piety upon her,And she’s a prude, now she can’t help herself.As long as she could capture men’s attentionsShe made the most of her advantages;But, now she sees her beauty vanishing,She wants to leave the world, that’s leaving her,And in the specious veil of haughty virtueShe’d hide the weakness of her worn-out charms.That is the way with all your old coquettes;They find it hard to see their lovers leave ’em;And thus abandoned, their forlorn estateCan find no occupation but a prude’s.These pious dames, in their austerity,Must carp at everything, and pardon nothing.They loudly blame their neighbours’ way of living,Not for religion’s sake, but out of envy,Because they can’t endure to see anotherEnjoy the pleasures age has weaned them from.
Madame Pernelle
To Elmire
There! That’s the kind of rigmarole to please you,Daughter-in-law. One never has a chanceTo get a word in edgewise, at your house,Because this lady holds the floor all day;But none the less, I mean to have my say, too.I tell you that my son did nothing wiserIn all his life, than take this godly manInto his household; heaven sent him here,In your great need, to make you all repent;For your salvation, you must hearken to him;He censures nothing but deserves his censure.These visits, these assemblies, and these balls,Are all inventions of the evil spirit.You never hear a word of godlinessAt them—but idle cackle, nonsense, flimflam.Our neighbour often comes in for a share,The talk flies fast, and scandal fills the air;It makes a sober person’s head go round,At these assemblies, just to hear the soundOf so much gab, with not a word to say;And as a learned man remarked one dayMost aptly, ’tis the Tower of Babylon,Where all, beyond all limit, babble on.And just to tell you how this point came in ...
To Cleante
So! Now the gentlemen must snicker, must he?Go find fools like yourself to make you laughAnd don’t ...
To Elmire
Daughter, good-bye; not one word more.As for this house, I leave the half unsaid;But I shan’t soon set foot in it again,
Cuffing Flipotte
Come, you! What makes you dream and stand agape,Hussy! I’ll warm your ears in proper shape!March, trollop, march!