ORGON Yes, and this very evening, to enrage you, Young rascal! Ah! I'll brave you all, and show you That I'm the master, and must be obeyed. Now, down upon your knees this instant, rogue, And take back what you said, and ask his pardon. DAMIS Who? I? Ask pardon of that cheating scoundrel ? ORGON Do you resist, you beggar, and insult him? A cudgel, here! a cudgel! (To Tartuffe) Don't restrain me. (To his son) Off with you! Leave my house this instant, sirrah, And never dare set foot in it again. DAMIS Yes, I will leave your house, but ORGON Leave it quickly. You reprobate, I disinherit you, And give you, too, my curse into the bargain. SCENE VII ORGON, TARTUFFE ORGON What! So insult a saintly man of God!

TARTUFFE Heaven, forgive him all the pain he gives me! [Footnote 4: Some modern editions have adopted the reading, preserved by tradition as that of the earliest stage version: Heaven, forgive him even as I forgive him! Voltaire gives still another reading: Heaven, forgive me even as I forgive him! Whichever was the original version, it appears in none of the early editions, and Moliere probably felt forced to change it on account of its too close resemblance to the Biblical phrase.] (To Orgon) Could you but know with what distress I see Them try to vilify me to my brother! ORGON Ah! TARTUFFE The mere thought of such ingratitude Makes my soul suffer torture, bitterly My horror at it Ah! my heart's so full I cannot speak I think I'll die of it. ORGON (in tears, running to the door through which he drove away his son) Scoundrel! I wish I'd never let you go, But slain you on the spot with my own hand. (To Tartuffe) Brother, compose yourself, and don't be angry.

TARTUFFE Nay, brother, let us end these painful quarrels. I see what troublous times I bring upon you, And think 'tis needful that I leave this house. ORGON What! You can't mean it? TARTUFFE Yes, they hate me here, And try, I nd, to make you doubt my faith. ORGON What of it? Do you nd I listen to them? TARTUFFE No doubt they won't stop there. These same reports You now reject, may some day win a hearing. ORGON No, brother, never. TARTUFFE Ah! my friend, a woman May easily mislead her husband's mind. ORGON No, no. TARTUFFE So let me quickly go away And thus remove all cause for such attacks. ORGON No, you shall stay; my life depends upon it. TARTUFFE Then I must mortify myself. And yet, If you should wish ORGON No, never! TARTUFFE Very well, then; No more of that. But I shall rule my conduct To t the case. Honour is delicate, And friendship binds me to forestall suspicion, Prevent all scandal, and avoid your wife.

ORGON No, you shall haunt her, just to spite them all. 'Tis my delight to set them in a rage; You shall be seen together at all hours And what is more, the better to defy them, I'll have no other heir but you; and straightway I'll go and make a deed of gift to you, Drawn in due form, of all my property. A good true friend, my son-in-law to be, Is more to me than son, and wife, and kindred. You will accept my offer, will you not? TARTUFFE Heaven's will be done in everything! ORGON Poor man! We'll go make haste to draw the deed aright, And then let envy burst itself with spite! ACT IV SCENE I CLEANTE, TARTUFFE