I merely say this by the way, good brother.
ORGON
You are the sole expounder of the doctrine;
Wisdom shall die with you, no doubt, good brother, You are the only wise, the sole enlightened, The oracle, the Cato, of our age.
All men, compared to you, are downright fools.
CLEANTE
I'm not the sole expounder of the doctrine, And wisdom shall not die with me, good brother.
But this I know, though it be all my knowledge, That there's a difference 'twixt false and true.
And as I find no kind of hero more To be admired than men of true religion, Nothing more noble or more beautiful Than is the holy zeal of true devoutness;Just so 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 over-zealous 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?
CLEANTE
Yes.
ORGON
I'm your humble servant.
(Starts to go.)
CLEANTE
Just a word.
We'll drop that other subject.But you know Valere has had the promise of your daughter.
ORGON
Yes.
CLEANTE
You had named the happy day.
ORGON
'Tis true.
CLEANTE
Then why put off the celebration of it?
ORGON
I can't say.
CLEANTE
Can you have some other plan In mind?
ORGON
Perhaps.
CLEANTE
You mean to break your word?
ORGON
I don't say that.
CLEANTE
I hope no obstacle Can keep you from performing what you've promised.
ORGON
Well, that depends.
CLEANTE
Why must you beat about?
Valere has sent me here to settle matters.
ORGON
Heaven be praised!
CLEANTE
What answer shall I take him?
ORGON
Why, anything you please.
CLEANTE
But we must know Your plans.What are they?
ORGON
I shall do the will Of Heaven.
CLEANTE
Come, be serious.You've given Your promise to Valere.Now will you keep it?
ORGON
Good-bye.
CLEANTE (alone)
His love, methinks, has much to fear;
I must go let him know what's happening here.
