ORGON It was a matter of conscience, you see, So I consulted Tartuffe in secrecy, And his arguments came to persuade me That he should keep the box for security, So I could deny having it on hand. And thus I'd have a subterfuge on demand With which my conscience might muddle through In swearing to things that I knew weren't true. CLEANTE You're in trouble, judging by appearances; Both the deed of gift and these confidences Are, to tell you my thoughts quite honestly, Measures that you took very thoughtlessly. They might put you in jail with such evidence, And since that man has it, it makes no sense To drive him away through your imprudence; You need to regain his full confidence. ORGON With what a fair appearance and touching zeal He hides a wicked soul and a heart of steel! And I, who received him begging and broke . . . That's it, I renounce all such pious folk. Henceforth, I will hold them as wholly evil And do my best to send them to the devil. |
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