SCENE VII (ORGON, TARTUFFE) ORGON To offend in that way a saintly man! TARTUFFE Heavenly Lord pardon him if you can. [To ORGON.] If you only knew with what pain I see them trying to blacken my name. . . . ORGON Alas! TARTUFFE The mere thought of this ingratitude Makes me suffer from a torture so crude . . . The horror I feel . . . My soul longs to cry . . . I can't even speak, and I'm sure I will die. ORGON [He runs weeping to the door through which he had chased his son.] Villain! How I regret that I held my hand And that I did not crush you where you stand. [To TARTUFFE.] Calm yourself, brother and try not to fret. TARTUFFE Let's stop these squabbles that end in regret. The great friction I have caused makes me grieve, And I believe, brother, that I should leave. ORGON What? Surely you jest? |
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