CLEANTE My goodness, brother! I think you're crazy! Are you mocking me with sheer lunacy? And how can you pretend that this pure rot . . . ? ORGON Dear brother, your words reek of that free thought With which I find you more than a bit impeached, And, as ten times or more I have clearly preached, You will soon find yourself in a wicked bind. CLEANTE Now this is the normal jargon of your kind. They want everyone to be as blind as they are. To be clear-sighted, is to be in error, And one who rejects their vain hypocrisy Has no respect for faith or sanctity. Go on, all your tart sermons scarcely smart; I know what I'm saying, and God sees my heart. I'm not a slave to your silly ceremony. There is false piety like false bravery; Just as one often sees, when honor calls us, That the bravest men never make the most fuss, So, too, the good Christians, whom one should follow, Are not those who find life so hard to swallow. What now? Will you not make any distinction Between hypocrisy and true devotion? Would you wish to use the same commonplace To describe both a mere mask and a true face? |
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