ELMIRE That declaration is very urbane, But in a man of God it's a bit profane. You ought to protect your heart a bit better And reflect more deeply on such a matter. A saint like you whom we all hail . . . TARTUFFE I may be holy, but I'm nonetheless male, And when one sees your heavenly charms, It's time for reason to throw up its arms. I know such words from me may seem strange--though, Madam, after all, I am not an angel, And if you condemn the confession I'm making, Admit nonetheless that your beauty's breath-taking. From the first time I set eyes on your supreme Splendor, my heart became yours and you my queen. The ineffable sweetness of your divine gaze Shattered my stout heart and set it ablaze. That look conquered all--fasting, prayers, duty-- And turned my vows into praise of your beauty. My eyes and my sighs have often shown my choice But to make it still clearer I now add my voice. If you should look down with a kindly eye Upon the base woes of a slave such as I And if your great kindness should happen to lead You to stoop down and grant what I need, I should always have for you, oh precious one, A love that beggars all comparison. |
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