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    Tartuffe
    Tartuffe
    Tartuffe
    Ebook130 pages1 hour

    Tartuffe

    By Molière

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    About this ebook

    Among Molière's best-known works is "Tartuffe" (AKA "The Hypocrite"), written in 1664. Though "Tartuffe" was received well by the public and even by Louis XIV, its popularity was lessened when the Archbishop of Paris issued an edict lasting 5 years threatening excommunication for anyone who watched, performed in, or read the play.
    Molière's masterpiece 'Tartuffe'' is a story about a man who falls prey to misplaced adoration. The dramatic work presents several dramatic features which define the play as a comedy of manners. Of particular importance is Molière's satirical look at religious hypocrisy. 

    Tartuffe, a pious fraud who pretends to speak with divine authority, has insinuated himself into the household of Orgon. When Orgon announces that his daughter Mariane is to marry Tartuffe instead of her fiance Valère, the rest of the family realizes the extent of Tartuffe's influence over Orgon. Tartuffe tries to seduce Orgon's wife Elmire, who traps him into revealing to Orgon his intentions toward her. Orgon throws Tartuffe out of the house, Tartuffe returns with an order of eviction for the family, and at the final moment the tables are turned and the play ends happily.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherE-BOOKARAMA
    Release dateNov 17, 2023
    ISBN9788835317494
    Author

    Molière

    Molière was a French playwright, actor, and poet. Widely regarded as one of the greatest writers in the French language and universal literature, his extant works include comedies, farces, tragicomedies, comédie-ballets, and more.

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      Book preview

      Tartuffe - Molière

      Characters

      Madame Pernelle , mother of Orgon

      Orgon, husband of Elmire

      Elmire, wife of Orgon

      Damis, son of Orgon

      Mariane, daughter of Orgon, in love with Valere

      Cleante, brother-inlaw of Orgon

      Tartuffe, a hypocrite

      Dorine, Mariane’s maid

      M. Loyal, a bailiff

      A Police Officer

      Flipotte, Madame Pernelle’s servant

      The Scene is at Paris

      ACT I

      SCENE 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 one

      Must have his say; it’s perfect pandemonium.

      Dorine

      If . . .

      Madame Pernelle

      You’re a servant wench, my girl, and much

      Too full of gab, and too impertinent

      And free with your advice on all occasions.

      Damis

      But . . .

      Madame Pernelle

      You’re a fool, my boy — f, o, o, l

      Just spells your name. Let grandma tell you that

      I’ve said a hundred times to my poor son,

      Your father, that you’d never come to good

      Or 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 melt

      In 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 conduct

      In 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 eyes

      Alone, 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 come

      Within our doors. You preach a way of living

      That 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 criticaster

      Come and usurp a tyrant’s power here?

      And shall we never dare amuse ourselves

      Till 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 father

      Nor 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 it

      An open rupture with this sneaking scoundrel.

      Dorine

      Besides, ’tis downright scandalous to see

      This 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 now

      To censure everything, and rule the roost!

      Madame Pernelle

      Eh! Mercy sakes alive! Things would go better

      If 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 character

      May be; but I can guarantee the master

      A holy man. You hate him and reject him

      Because 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 call

      That 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 tongues

      From wagging? It would be a grievous thing

      If, for the fear of idle

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