THE IMAGINARY INVALID. (LE MALADE IMAGINAIRE.) by MOLIÃRE Translated into English Prose. _With Short Introductions and Explanatory Notes._ by CHARLES HERON WALL This is the last comedy written by MoliÃ¨re. He was very ill, nearly dying, at the time he wrote it. It was first acted at the Palais Royal Theatre, on February 10, 1673. MoliÃ¨re acted the part of Argan. PERSONS REPRESENTED. ARGAN, _an imaginary invalid_. BÃLINE, _second wife to_ ARGAN. ANGÃLIQUE, _daughter to_ ARGAN, _in love with_ CLÃANTE. LOUISON, ARGANâS _young daughter, sister to_ ANGÃLIQUE. BÃRALDE, _brother to_ ARGAN. CLÃANTE, _lover to_ ANGÃLIQUE. MR. DIAFOIRUS, _a physician_. THOMAS DIAFOIRUS, _his son, in love with_ ANGÃLIQUE. MR. PURGON, _physician to_ ARGAN. MR. FLEURANT, _an apothecary_. MR. DE BONNEFOI, _a notary_. TOINETTE, _maid-servant to_ ARGAN. THE IMAGINARY INVALID. ACT I. SCENE I.âARGAN (_sitting at a table, adding up his apothecaryâs bill with counters_). ARG. Three and two make five, and five make ten, and ten make twenty. âItem, on the 24th, a small, insinuative clyster, preparative and gentle, to soften, moisten, and refresh the bowels of Mr. Argan.â What I like about Mr. Fleurant, my apothecary, is that his bills are always civil. âThe bowels of Mr. Argan.â All the same, Mr. Fleurant, it is not enough to be civil, you must also be reasonable, and not plunder sick people. Thirty sous for a clyster! I have already told you, with all due respect to you, that elsewhere you have only charged me twenty sous; and twenty sous, in the language of apothecaries, means only ten sous. Here they are, these ten sous. âItem, on the said day, a good detergent clyster, compounded of double catholicon rhubarb, honey of roses, and other ingredients, according to the prescription, to scour, work, and clear out the bowels of Mr. Argan, thirty sous.â With your leave, ten sous. âItem, on the said day, in the evening, a julep, hepatic, soporiferous, and somniferous, intended to promote the sleep of Mr. Argan, thirty-five sous.â I do not complain of that, for it made me sleep very well. Ten, fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen sous six deniers. âItem, on the 25th, a good purgative and corroborative mixture, composed of fresh cassia with Levantine senna and other ingredients, according to the prescription of Mr. Purgon, to expel Mr. Arganâs bile, four francs.â You are joking, Mr. Fleurant; you must learn to be reasonable with patients; Mr. Purgon never ordered you to put four francs. Tut! put three francs, if you please. Twenty; thirty sous.[1] âItem, on the said day, a dose, anodyne and astringent, to make Mr. Argan sleep, thirty sous.â Ten sous, Mr. Fleurant. âItem, on the 26th, a carminative clyster to cure the flatulence of Mr. Argan, thirty sous.â âItem, the clyster repeated in the evening, as above, thirty sous.â Ten sous, Mr. Fleurant. âItem, on the 27th, a good mixture composed for the purpose of driving out the bad humours of Mr. Argan, three francs.â Good; twenty and thirty sous; I am glad that you are reasonable. âItem, on the 28th, a dose of clarified and edulcorated whey, to soften, lenify, temper, and refresh the blood of Mr. Argan, twenty sous.â Good; ten sous. âItem, a potion, cordial and preservative, composed of twelve grains of bezoar, syrup of citrons and pomegranates, and other ingredients, according to the prescription, five francs.â Ah! Mr. Fleurant, gently, if you please; if you go on like that, no one will wish to be unwell. Be satisfied with four francs. Twenty, forty sous. Three and two are five, and five are ten, and ten are twenty. Sixty-three francs four sous six deniers. So that during this month I have taken one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight mixtures, and one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve clysters; and last month there were twelve mixtures and twenty clysters. I am not astonished, therefore, that I am not so well this month as last. I shall speak to Mr. Purgon about it, so that he may set the matter right. Come, let all this be taken away. (_He sees that no one comes, and that he is alone._) Nobody. Itâs no use, I am always left alone; thereâs no way of keeping them here. (_He rings a hand-bell._) They donât hear, and my bell doesnât make enough noise. (_He rings again._) No one. (_He rings again._) Toinette! (_He rings again._) Itâs just as if I didnât ring at all. You hussy! you jade! (_He rings again._) Confound it all! (_He rings and shouts._) Deuce take you, you wretch! SCENE II.âARGAN, TOINETTE. TOI. Coming, coming. ARG. Ah! you jade, you wretch! TOI. (_pretending to have knocked her head_). Bother your impatience! You hurry me so much that I have knocked my head against the window-shutter. ARG. (_angry_). You vixen! TOI. (_interrupting_ ARGAN). Oh! ARG. There is.... TOI. Oh! ARG. For the last hour I.... TOI. Oh! ARG. You have left me.... TOI. Oh! ARG. Be silent! you baggage, and let me scold you. TOI. Well! thatâs too bad after what I have done to myself. ARG. You make me bawl till my throat is sore, you jade! TOI. And you, you made me break my head open; one is just as bad as the other; so, with your leave, we are quits. ARG. What! you hussy.... TOI. If you go on scolding me, I shall cry. ARG. To leave me, you.... TOI. (_again interrupting_ ARGAN.) Oh! ARG. You would.... TOI. (_still interrupting him_). Oh! ARG. What! shall I have also to give up the pleasure of scolding her? TOI. Well, scold as much as you please; do as you like. ARG. You prevent me, you hussy, by interrupting me every moment. TOI. If you have the pleasure of scolding, I surely can have that of crying. Let every one have his fancy; âtis but right. Oh! oh! ARG. I must give it up, I suppose. Take this away, take this away, you jade. Be careful to have some broth ready, for the other that I am to take soon. TOI. This Mr. Fleurant and Mr. Purgon amuse themselves finely with your body. They have a rare milch-cow in you, I must say; and I should like them to tell me what disease it is you have for them to physic you so. ARG. Hold your tongue, simpleton; it is not for you to control the decrees of the faculty. Ask my daughter AngÃ©lique to come to me. I have something to tell her. TOI. Here she is, coming of her own accord; she must have guessed your thoughts. SCENE III.âARGAN, ANGÃLIQUE, TOINETTE. ARG. You come just in time; I want to speak to you. ANG. I am quite ready to hear you. ARG. Wait a moment. (_To_ TOINETTE) Give me my walking-stick; Iâll come back directly. TOI. Go, Sir, go quickly; Mr. Fleurant gives us plenty to do. SCENE IV.âANGÃLIQUE, TOINETTE. ANG. Toinette! TOI. Well! what? ANG. Look at me a little. TOI. Well, I am looking at you. ANG. Toinette! TOI. Well! what, Toinette? ANG. Donât you guess what I want to speak about? TOI. Oh! yes, I have some slight idea that you want to speak of our young lover, for it is of him we have been speaking for the last six days, and you are not well unless you mention him at every turn. ANG. Since you know what it is I want, why are you not the first to speak to me of him? and why do you not spare me the trouble of being the one to start the conversation? TOI. You donât give me time, and you are so eager that it is difficult to be beforehand with you on the subject. ANG. I acknowledge that I am never weary of speaking of him, and that my heart takes eager advantage of every moment I have to open my heart to you. But tell me, Toinette, do you blame the feelings I have towards him? TOI. I am far from doing so. ANG. Am I wrong in giving way to these sweet impressions? TOI. I donât say that you are. ANG. And would you have me insensible to the tender protestations of ardent love which he shows me? TOI. Heaven forbid! ANG. Tell me, do you not see, as I do, Something providential, some act of destiny in the unexpected adventure from which our acquaintance originated? TOI. Yes. ANG. That it is impossible to act more generously? TOI. Agreed. ANG. And that he did all this with the greatest possible grace? TOI. Oh! yes. ANG. Do you not think, Toinette, that he is very handsome? TOI. Certainly. ANG. That he has the best manners in the world? TOI. No doubt about it. ANG. That there is always something noble in what he says and what he does? TOI. Most certainly. ANG. That there never was anything more tender than all he says to me? TOI. True. ARG. And that there can be nothing more painful than the restraint under which I am kept? for it prevents all sweet intercourse, and puts an end to that mutual love with which Heaven has inspired us. TOI. You are right. ANG. But, dear Toinette, tell me, do you think that he loves me as much as he says he does? TOI. Hum! Thatâs a thing hardly to be trusted at any time. A show of love is sadly like the real thing, and I have met with very good actors in that line. ANG. Ah! Toinette, what are you saying there? Alas! judging by the manner in which he speaks, is it possible that he is not telling the truth? TOI. At any rate, you will soon be satisfied on this point, and the resolution which he says he has taken of asking you in marriage, is a sure and ready way of showing you if what he says is true or not. That is the all-sufficient proof. ANG. Ah! Toinette, if he deceives me, I shall never in all my life believe in any man. TOI. Here is your father coming back. SCENE V.âARGAN, ANGÃLIQUE, TOINETTE. ARG. I say, AngÃ©lique, I have a piece of news for yon which, perhaps, you did not expect. You have been asked of me in marriage. Halloa! how is that? You are smiling. It is pleasant, is it not, that word marriage? there is nothing so funny to young girls. Ah! nature! nature! So, from what I see, daughter, there is no need of my asking you if you are willing to marry. ANG. I ought to obey you in everything, father. ARG. I am very glad to possess such an obedient daughter; the thing is settled then, and I have promised you. ANG. It is my duty, father, blindly to follow all you determine upon for me. ARG. My wife, your mother-in-law, wanted me to make a nun of you and of your little sister Louison also. She has always been bent upon that. TOI. (_aside_). The excellent creature has her reasons. ARG. She would not consent to this marriage; but I carried the day, and my word is given. TOI. (_to_ ARGAN). Really, I am pleased with you for that, and it is the wisest thing you ever did in your life. ARG. I have not seen the person in question; but I am told that I shall be satisfied with him, and that you too will be satisfied. ANG. Most certainly, father. ARG. How! have you seen him then? ANG. Since your consent to our marriage authorises me to open my heart to you, I will not hide from you that chance made us acquainted six days ago, and that the request which has been made to you is the result of the sympathy we felt for one another at first sight. ARG. They did not tell me that; but I am glad of it; it is much better that things should be so. They say that he is a tall, well-made young fellow. ANG. Yes, father. ARG. Of a fine build. ANG. Yes, indeed. ARG. Pleasant. ANG. Certainly. ARG. A good face. ANG. Very good. ARG. Steady and of good family. ANG. Quite. ARG. With very good manners. ANG. The best possible. ARG. And speaks both Latin and Greek. ANG. Ah! that I donât know anything about. ARG. And that he will in three days be made a doctor. ANG. He, father? ARG. Yes; did he not tell you? ANG. No, indeed! who told you? ARG. Mr. Purgon. ANG. Does Mr. Purgon know him? ARG. What a question! Of course he knows him, since he is his nephew. ANG. ClÃ©ante is the nephew of Mr. Purgon? ARG. What ClÃ©ante? We are speaking about him who has asked you in marriage. ANG. Yes, of course. ARG. Well, he is the nephew of Mr. Purgon, and the son of his brother-in-law, Mr. Diafoirus; and this son is called Thomas Diafoirus, and not ClÃ©ante. Mr. Fleurant and I decided upon this match this morning, and to-morrow this future son-in-law will be brought to me by his father.... What is the matter, you look all scared? ANG. It is because, father, I see that you have been speaking of one person, and I of another. TOI. What! Sir, you have formed such a queer project as that, and, with all the wealth you possess, you want to marry your daughter to a doctor? ARG. What business is it of yours, you impudent jade? TOI. Gently, gently. You always begin by abuse. Can we not reason together without getting into a rage? Come, let us speak quietly. What reason have you, if you please, for such a marriage? ARG. My reason is, that seeing myself infirm and sick, I wish to have a son-in-law and relatives who are doctors, in order to secure their kind assistance in my illness, to have in my family the fountain-head of those remedies which are necessary to me, and to be within reach of consultations and prescriptions. TOI. Very well; at least that is giving a reason, and there is a certain pleasure in answering one another calmly. But now, Sir, on your conscience, do you really and truly believe that you are ill? ARG. Believe that I am ill, you jade? Believe that I am ill, you impudent hussy? TOI. Very well, then, Sir, you are ill; donât let us quarrel about that. Yes, you are very ill, I agree with you upon that point, more ill even than you think. Now, is that settled? But your daughter is to marry a husband for herself, and as she is not ill, what is the use of giving her a doctor? ARG. It is for my sake that I give her this doctor, and a good daughter ought to be delighted to marry for the sake of her fatherâs health. TOI. In good troth, Sir, shall I, as a friend, give you a piece of advice? ARG. What is this advice? TOI. Not to think of this match. ARG. And your reason? TOI. The reason is that your daughter will never consent to it. ARG. My daughter will not consent to it? TOI. No. ARG. My daughter? TOI. Your daughter. She will tell you that she has no need of Mr. Diafoirus, nor of his son, Mr. Thomas Diafoirus, nor all the Diafoiruses in the world. ARG. But I have need of them. Besides, the match is more advantageous than you think. Mr. Diafoirus has only this son for his heir; and, moreover, Mr. Purgon, who has neither wife nor child, gives all he has in favour of this marriage; and Mr. Purgon is a man worth eight thousand francs a year. TOI. What a lot of people he must have killed to have become so rich! ARG. Eight thousand francs is something, without counting the property of the father. TOI. That is very well, Sir, but, all the same, I advise you, between ourselves, to choose another husband for her; she is not of a make to become a Mrs. Diafoirus. ARG. But I will have it so. TOI. Fie! nonsense! Donât speak like that. ARG. Donât speak like that? Why not? TOI. Dear me, no, donât. ARG. And why should I not speak like that? TOI. People will say that you donât know what you are talking about. ARG. People will say all they like, but I tell you that I will have her make my promise good. TOI. I feel sure that she wonât. ARG. Then I will force her to do it. TOI. She will not do it, I tell you. ARG. She will, or I will shut her up in a convent. TOI. You? ARG. I. TOI. Good! ARG. How good? TOI. You will not shut her up in a convent. ARG. I shall not shut her up in a convent? TOI. No. ARG. No? TOI. No. ARG. Well, this is cool! I shall not put my daughter in a convent if I like! TOI. No, I tell you. ARG. And who will hinder me? TOI. You yourself. ARG. Myself? TOI. You will never have the heart to do it. ARG. I shall. TOI. You are joking. ARG. I am not joking. TOI. Fatherly love will hinder you. ARG. It will not hinder me. TOI. A little tear or two, her arms thrown round your neck, or âMy darling little papa,â said very tenderly, will be enough to touch your heart. ARG. All that will be useless. TOI. Oh yes! ARG. I tell you that nothing will move me. TOI. Rubbish! ARG. You have no business to say âRubbish.â TOI. I know you well enough; you are naturally kind-hearted. ARG. (_angrily_). I am not kind-hearted, and I am ill-natured when I like. TOI. Gently, Sir, you forget that you are ill. ARG. I command her to prepare herself to take the husband I have fixed upon. TOI. And I decidedly forbid her to do anything of the kind. ARG. What have we come to? And what boldness is this for a scrub of a servant to speak in such a way before her master? TOI. When a master does not consider what he is doing, a sensible servant should set him right. ARG. (_running after_ TOINETTE). Ah, impudent girl, I will kill you! TOI. (_avoiding_ ARGAN, _and putting the chair between her and him_). It is my duty to oppose what would be a dishonour to you. ARG. (_running after_ TOINETTE _with his cane in his hand_). Come here, come here, let me teach you how to speak. TOI. (_running to the opposite side of the chair_). I interest myself in your affairs as I ought to do, and I donât wish to see you commit any folly. ARG. (_as before_). Jade! TOI. (_as before_). No, I will never consent to this marriage. ARG. (_as before_). Worthless hussy! TOI. (_as before_). I wonât have her marry your Thomas Diafoirus. ARG. (_as before_). Vixen! TOI. (_as before_). She will obey me sooner than you. ARG. (_stopping_). AngÃ©lique, wonât you stop that jade for me? ANG. Ah! father, donât make yourself ill. ARG. (_to_ ANGÃLIQUE). If you donât stop her, I will refuse you my blessing. TOI. (_going away_). And I will disinherit her if she obeys you. ARG. (_throwing himself into his chair_). Ah! I am done for. It is enough to kill me! SCENE VI.âBÃLINE, ARGAN. ARG. Ah! come near, my wife. BEL. What ails you, my poor, dear husband? ARG. Come to my help. BEL. What is the matter, my little darling child? ARG. My love. BEL. My love. ARG. They have just put me in a rage. BEL. Alas! my poor little husband! How was that, my own dear pet? ARG. That jade of yours, Toinette, has grown more insolent than ever. BEL. Donât excite yourself. ARG. She has put me in a rage, my dove. BEL. Gently, my child. ARG. She has been thwarting me for the last hour about everything I want to do. BEL. There, there; never mind. ARG. And has had the impudence to say that I am not ill. BEL. She is an impertinent hussy. ARG. You know, my soul, what the truth is? BEL. Yes, my darling, she is wrong. ARG. My own dear, that jade will be the death of me. BEL. Now, donât, donât. ARG. She is the cause of all my bile. BEL. Donât be so angry. ARG. And I have asked you ever so many times to send her away. BEL. Alas! my child, there is no servant without defects. We are obliged to put up at times with their bad qualities on account of their good ones. The girl is skilful, careful, diligent, and, above all, honest; and you know that in our days we must be very careful what people we take into our house. I say, Toinette. SCENE VII.âARGAN, BÃLINE, TOINETTE. TOI. Madam. BEL. How is this? Why do you put my husband in a passion? TOI. (_in a soft tone_). I, Madam? Alas! I donât know what you mean, and my only aim is to please master in everything. ARG. Ah! the deceitful girl! TOI. He said to us that he wished to marry his daughter to the son of Mr. Diafoirus. I told him that I thought the match very advantageous for her, but that I believed he would do better to put her in a convent. BEL. There is not much harm in that, and I think that she is right. ARG. Ah! deary, do you believe her? She is a vile girl, and has said a hundred insolent things to me. BEL. Well, I believe you, my dear. Come, compose yourself; and you, Toinette, listen to me. If ever you make my husband angry again, I will send you away. Come, give me his fur cloak and some pillows, that I may make him comfortable in his arm-chair. You are all anyhow. Pull your night-cap right down over your ears; there is nothing that gives people such bad colds as letting in the air through the ears. ARG. Ah, deary! how much obliged I am to you for all the care you take of me. BEL. (_adjusting the pillows, which she puts round him_). Raise yourself a little for me to put this under you. Let us put this one for you to lean upon, and this one on the other side; this one behind your back, and this other to support your head. TOI. (_clapping a pillow rudely on his head_). And this other to keep you from the evening damp. ARG. (_rising angrily, and throwing the pillows after_ TOINETTE, _who runs away_). Ah, wretch! you want to smother me. SCENE VIII.âARGAN, BÃLINE. BEL. Now, now; what is it again? ARG. (_throwing himself in his chair_). Ah! I can hold out no longer. BEL. But why do you fly into such a passion? she thought she was doing right. ARG. You donât know, darling, the wickedness of that villainous baggage. She has altogether upset me, and I shall want more than eight different mixtures and twelve injections to remedy the evil. BEL. Come, come, my dearie, compose yourself a little. ARG. Lovey, you are my only consolation. BEL. Poor little pet! ARG. To repay you for all the love you have for me, my darling, I will, as I told you, make my will. BEL. Ah, my soul! do not let us speak of that, I beseech you. I cannot bear to think of it, and the very word âwillâ makes me die of grief. ARG. I had asked you to speak to our notary about it. BEL. There he is, close at hand; I have brought him with me. ARG. Make him come in then, my life! BEL. Alas! my darling, when a woman loves her husband so much, she finds it almost impossible to think of these things. SCENE IX.âMR. DE BONNEFOI, BÃLINE, ARGAN. ARG. Come here, Mr. de Bonnefoi, come here. Take a seat, if you please. My wife tells me, Sir, that you are a very honest man, and altogether one of her friends; I have therefore asked her to speak to you about a will which I wish to make. BEL. Alas! I cannot speak of those things. MR. DE BON. She has fully explained to me your intentions, Sir, and what you mean to do for her. But I have to tell you that you can give nothing to your wife by will. ARG. But why so? MR. DE BON. It is against custom. If you were in a district where statute law prevailed, the thing could be done; but in Paris, and in almost all places governed by custom, it cannot be done; and the will would be held void. The only settlement that man and wife can make on each other is by mutual donation while they are alive, and even then there must be no children from either that marriage or from any previous marriage at the decease of the first who dies. ARG. Itâs a very impertinent custom that a husband can leave nothing to a wife whom he loves, by whom he is tenderly loved, and who takes so much care of him. I should like to consult my own advocate to see what I can do. MR. DE BON. It is not to an advocate that you must apply; for they are very particular on this point and think it a great crime to bestow oneâs property contrary to the law. They are people to make difficulties, and are ignorant of the bylaws of conscience. There are others whom you may consult with advantage on that point, and who have expedients for gently overriding the law, and for rendering just that which is not allowed. These know how to smooth over the difficulties of an affair, and to find the means of eluding custom by some indirect advantage. Without that, what would become of us every day? We must make things easy; otherwise we should do nothing, and I wouldnât give a penny for our business. ARG. My wife had rightly told me, Sir, that you were a very clever and honest man. What can I do, pray, to give her my fortune and deprive my children of it? MR. DE BON. What you can do? You can discreetly choose a friend of your wife, to whom you will give all you own in due form by your will, and that friend will give it up to her afterwards; or else you can sign a great many safe bonds in favour of various creditors who will lend their names to your wife, and in whose hands they will leave a declaration that what was done was only to serve her. You can also in your lifetime put in her hands ready money and bills which you can make payable to bearer. BEL. Alas! you must not trouble yourself about all that. If I lose you, my child, I will stay no longer in the world. ARG. My darling! BEL. Yes, my pet, if I were unfortunate enough to lose you.... ARG. My dear wifey! BEL. Life would be nothing to me. ARG. My love! BEL. And I would follow you to the grave, to show you all the tenderness I feel for you. ARG. You will break my heart, deary; comfort yourself, I beseech you. MR. DE BON. (_to_ BÃLINE). These tears are unseasonable; things have not come to that yet. BEL. Ah, Sir! you donât know what it is to have a husband one loves tenderly. ARG. All the regret I shall have, if I die, my darling, will be to have no child from you. Mr. Purgon told me he would make me have one. MR. DE BON. That may come still. ARG. I must make my will, deary, according to what this gentleman advises; but, out of precaution, I will give you the twenty thousand francs in gold which I have in the wainscoting of the recess of my room, and two bills payable to bearer which are due to me, one from Mr. Damon, the other from Mr. GÃ©ronte. BEL. No, no! I will have nothing to do with all that. Ah! How much do you say there is in the recess? ARG. Twenty thousand francs, darling. BEL. Donât speak to me of your money, I beseech you. Ah! How much are the two bills for? ARG. One, my love, is for four thousand francs, and the other for six thousand. BEL. All the wealth in the world, my soul, is nothing to me compared to you. MR. DE BON. (_to_ ARGAN). Shall we draw up the will? ARG. Yes, Sir. But we shall be more comfortable in my own little study. Help me, my love. BEL. Come, my poor, dear child. SCENE X.âANGÃLIQUE, TOINETTE. TOI. They are shut up with the notary, and I heard something about a will; your mother-in-law doesnât go to sleep; it is, no doubt, some conspiracy of hers against your interests to which she is urging your father. ANG. Let him dispose of his money as he likes, as long as he does not dispose of my heart in the same way. You see, Toinette, to what violence it is subjected. Do not forsake me, I beseech you, in this my extremity. TOI. I forsake you! I had rather die. In vain does your stepmother try to take me into her confidence, and make me espouse her interests. I never could like her, and I have always been on your side. Trust me, I will do every thing to serve you. But, in order to serve you more effectually, I shall change my tactics, hide my wish to help you, and affect to enter into the feelings of your father and your stepmother. ANG. Try, I beseech you, to let ClÃ©ante know about the marriage they have decided upon. TOI. I have nobody to employ for that duty but the old usurer Punchinello, my lover; it will cost me a few honeyed words, which I am most willing to spend for you. To-day it is too late for that, but to-morrow morning early I will send for him, and he will be delighted to.... SCENE XI.âBÃLINE (_in the house_), ANGÃLIQUE, TOINETTE. BEL. Toinette. TOI. (_to_ ANGÃLIQUE). I am called away. Good night. Trust me. FIRST INTERLUDE. ACT II. SCENE I.âCLÃANTE, TOINETTE. TOI. (_not recognising_ CLÃANTE). What is it you want, Sir? CLE. What do I want? TOI. Ah! ah! is it you? What a surprise! What are you coming here for? CLE. To learn my destiny, to speak to the lovely AngÃ©lique, to consult the feelings of her heart, and to ask her what she means to do about this fatal marriage of which I have been told. TOI. Very well; but no one speaks so easily as all that to AngÃ©lique; you must take precautions, and you have been told how narrowly she is watched. She never goes out, nor does she see anybody. It was through the curiosity of an old aunt that we obtained leave to go to the play where your love began, and we have taken good care not to say anything about it. CLE. Therefore am I not here as ClÃ©ante, nor as her lover, but as the friend of her music-master, from whom I have obtained leave to say that I have come in his stead. TOI. Here is her father; withdraw a little, and let me tell him who you are. SCENE II.âARGAN, TOINETTE. ARG. (_thinking himself alone_). Mr. Purgon told me that I was to walk twelve times to and fro in my room every morning, but I forgot to ask him whether it should be lengthways or across. TOI. Sir, here is a gentleman.... ARG. Speak in a lower tone, you jade; you split my head open; and you forget that we should never speak so loud to sick people. TOI. I wanted to tell you, Sir.... ARG. Speak low, I tell you. TOI. Sir.... (_She moves her lips as if she were speaking._) ARG. What? TOI. I tell you that.... (_As before._) ARG. What is it you say? TOI. (_aloud_). I say that there is a gentleman here who wants to speak to you. ARG. Let him come in. SCENE III.âARGAN, CLÃANTE, TOINETTE. CLE. Sir. TOI. (_to_ CLÃANTE). Do not speak so loud, for fear of splitting open the head of Mr. Argan. CLE. Sir, I am delighted to find you up, and to see you better. TOI. (_affecting to be angry_). How! better? It is false; master is always ill. CLE. I had heard that your master was better, and I think that he looks well in the face. TOI. What do you mean by his looking well in the face? He looks very bad, and it is only impertinent folks who say that he is better; he never was so ill in his life. ARG. She is right. TOI. He walks, sleeps, eats, and drinks, like other folks, but that does not hinder him from being very ill. ARG. Quite true. CLE. I am heartily sorry for it, Sir. I am sent by your daughterâs music-master; he was obliged to go into the country for a few days, and as I am his intimate friend, he has asked me to come here in his place, to go on with the lessons, for fear that, if they were discontinued, she should forget what she has already learnt. ARG. Very well. (To TOINETTE) Call AngÃ©lique. TOI. I think, Sir, It would be better to take the gentleman to her room. ARG. No, make her come here. TOI. He cannot give her a good lesson if they are not left alone. ARG. Oh! yes, he can. TOI. Sir, it will stun you; and you should have nothing to disturb you in the state of health you are in. ARG. No, no; I like music, and I should be glad to.... Ah! here she is. (_To_ TOINETTE) Go and see if my wife is dressed. SCENE IV.âARGAN, ANGÃLIQUE, CLÃANTE. ARG. Come, my daughter, your music-master is gone into the country, and here is a person whom he sends instead, to give you your lesson. ANG. (_recognising_ CLÃANTE). O heavens! ARG. What is the matter? Why this surprise? ANG. It is.... ARG. What can disturb you in that manner? ANG. It is such a strange coincidence. ARG. How so? ANG. I dreamt last night that I was in the greatest trouble imaginable, and that some one exactly like this gentleman came to me. I asked him to help me, and presently he saved me from the great trouble I was in. My surprise was very great to meet unexpectedly, on my coming here, him of whom I had been dreaming all night. CLE. It is no small happiness to occupy your thoughts whether sleeping or waking, and my delight would be great indeed if you were in any trouble out of which you would think me worthy of delivering you. There is nothing that I would not do for.... SCENE V.âARGAN, ANGÃLIQUE, CLÃANTE, TOINETTE. TOI. (_to_ ARGAN). Indeed, Sir, I am of your opinion now, and I unsay all that I said yesterday. Here are Mr. Diafoirus the father, and Mr. Diafoirus the son, who are coming to visit you. How well provided with a son-in-law you will be! You will see the best-made young fellow in the world, and the most intellectual. He said but two words to me, it is true, but I was struck with them, and your daughter will be delighted with him. ARG. (_to_ CLÃANTE, _who moves as if to go_). Do not go, Sir. I am about, as you see, to marry my daughter, and they have just brought her future husband, whom she has not as yet seen. CLE. You do me great honour, Sir, in wishing me to be witness of such a pleasant interview. ARG. He is the son of a clever doctor, and the marriage will take place in four days. CLE. Indeed! ARG. Please inform her music-master of it, that he may be at the wedding. CLE. I will not fail to do so. ARG. And I invite you also. CLE. You do me too much honour. TOI. Come, make room; here they are. SCENE VI.âMR. DIAFOIRUS, THOMAS DIAFOIRUS, ARGAN, ANGÃLIQUE, CLÃANTE, TOINETTE, SERVANTS. ARG. (_putting up his hand to his night-cap without taking it off_). Mr. Purgon has forbidden me to uncover my head. You belong to the profession, and know what would be the consequence if I did so. MR. DIA. We are bound in all our visits to bring relief to invalids, and not to injure them. (MR. ARGAN _and_ MR. DIAFOIRUS _speak at the same time_.) ARG. I receive, Sir.... MR. DIA. We come here, Sir.... ARG. With great joy.... MR. DIA. My son Thomas and myself.... ARG. The honour you do me.... MR. DIA. To declare to you, Sir.... ARG. And I wish.... MR. DIA. The delight we are in.... ARG. I could have gone to your house.... MR. DIA. At the favour you do us.... ARG. To assure you of it.... MR. DIA. In so kindly admitting us.... ARG. But you know, Sir.... MR. DIA. To the honour, Sir.... ARG. What it is to be a poor invalid.... MR. DIA. Of your alliance.... ARG. Who can only.... MR. DIA. And assure you.... ARG. Tell you here.... MR. DIA. That in all that depends on our knowledge.... ARG. That he will seize every opportunity.... MR. DIA. As well as in any other way.... ARG. To show you, Sir.... MR. DIA. That we shall ever be ready, Sir.... ARG. That he is entirely at your service.... MR. DIA. To show you our zeal. (_To his son_) Now, Thomas, come forward, and pay your respects. T. DIA. (_to_ MR. DIAFOIRUS). Ought I not to begin with the father? MR. DIA. Yes. T. DIA. (_to_ ARGAN). Sir, I come to salute, acknowledge, cherish, and revere in you a second father; but a second father to whom I owe more, I make bold to say, than to the first. The first gave me birth; but you have chosen me. He received me by necessity, but you have accepted me by choice. What I have from him is of the body, corporal; what I hold from you is of the will, voluntary; and in so much the more as the mental faculties are above the corporal, in so much the more do I hold precious this future affiliation, for which I come beforehand to-day to render you my most humble and most respectful homage. TOI. Long life to the colleges which send such clever people into the world! T. DIA. (_to_ MR. DIAFOIRUS). Has this been said to your satisfaction, father? MR. DIA. _Optime_. ARG. (_to_ ANGÃLIQUE). Come, bow to this gentleman. T. DIA. (_to_ MR. DIAFOIRUS). Shall I kiss? MR. DIA. Yes, yes. T. DIA. (_to_ ANGÃLIQUE). Madam, it is with justice that heaven has given you the name of stepmother, since we see in you steps towards the perfect beauty which....[2] ARG. (_to_ THOMAS DIAFOIRUS). It is not to my wife, but to my daughter, that you are speaking. T. DIA. Where is she? ARG. She will soon come. T. DIA. Shall I wait, father, till she comes? MR. DIA. No; go through your compliments to the young lady in the meantime. T. DIA. Madam, as the statue of Memnon gave forth a harmonious sound when it was struck by the first rays of the sun, in like manner do I experience a sweet rapture at the apparition of this sun of your beauty. As the naturalists remark that the flower styled heliotrope always turns towards the star of day, so will my heart for ever turn towards the resplendent stars of your adorable eyes as to its only pole. Suffer me, then, Madam, to make to-day on the altar of your charms the offering of a heart which longs for and is ambitious of no greater glory than to be till death, Madam, your most humble, most obedient, most faithful servant and husband. TOI. Ah! See what it is to study, and how one learns to say fine things! ARG. (_to_ CLÃANTE). Well! what do you say to that? CLE. The gentleman does wonders, and if he is as good a doctor as he is an orator, it will be most pleasant to be one of his patients. TOI. Certainly, it will be something admirable if his cures are as wonderful as his speeches. ARG. Now, quick, my chair; and seats for everybody. (_Servants bring chairs._) Sit down here, my daughter. (_To_ MR. DIAFOIRUS) You see, Sir, that everybody admires your son; and I think you very fortunate in being the father of such a fine young man. MR. DIA. Sir, it is not because I am his father, but I can boast that I have reason to be satisfied with him, and that all those who see him speak of him as of a youth without guile. He has not a very lively imagination, nor that sparkling wit which is found in some others; but it is this which has always made me augur well of his judgment, a quality required for the exercise of our art. As a child he never was what is called sharp or lively. He was always gentle, peaceful, taciturn, never saying a word, and never playing at any of those little pastimes that we call childrenâs games. It was found most difficult to teach him to read, and he was nine years old before he knew his letters. A good omen, I used to say to myself; trees slow of growth bear the best fruit. We engrave on marble with much more difficulty than on sand, but the result is more lasting; and that dulness of apprehension, that heaviness of imagination, is a mark of a sound judgment in the future. When I sent him to college, he found it hard work, but he stuck to his duty, and bore up with obstinacy against all difficulties. His tutors always praised him for his assiduity and the trouble he took. In short, by dint of continual hammering, he at last succeeded gloriously in obtaining his degree; and I can say, without vanity, that from that time till now there has been no candidate who has made more noise than he in all the disputations of our school. There he has rendered himself formidable, and no debate passes but he goes and argues loudly and to the last extreme on the opposite side. He is firm in dispute, strong as a Turk in his principles, never changes his opinion, and pursues an argument to the last recesses of logic. But, above all things, what pleases me in him, and what I am glad to see him follow my example in, is that he is blindly attached to the opinions of the ancients, and that he would never understand nor listen to the reasons and the experiences of the pretended discoveries of our century concerning the circulation of the blood and other opinions of the same stamp.[3] T. DIA. (_pulling out of his pocket a long paper rolled up, and presenting it to_ ANGÃLIQUE). I have upheld against these circulators a thesis which, with the permission (_bowing to_ ARGAN) of this gentleman, I venture to present to the young lady as the first-fruits of my genius. ANG. Sir, it is a useless piece of furniture to me; I do not understand these things. TOI. (_taking the paper_). Never mind; give it all the same; the picture will be of use, and we will adorn our attic with it. T. DIA. (_again bowing to_ ANGÃLIQUE). With the permission of this gentleman, I invite you to come one of these days to amuse yourself by assisting at the dissection of a woman upon whose body I am to give lectures. TOI. The treat will be most welcome. There are some who give the pleasure of seeing a play to their lady-love; but a dissection is much more gallant. MR. DIA. Moreover, in respect to the qualities required for marriage, I assure you that he is all you could wish, and that his children will be strong and healthy. ARG. Do you not intend, Sir, to push his way at court, and obtain for him the post of physician there? MR. DIA. To tell you the truth, I have never had any predilection to practice with the great; it never seemed pleasant to me, and I have found that it is better for us to confine ourselves to the ordinary public. Ordinary people are more convenient; you are accountable to nobody for your actions, and as long as you follow the common rules laid down by the faculty, there is no necessity to trouble yourself about the result. What is vexatious among people of rank is that, when they are ill, they positively expect their doctor to cure them. TOI. How very absurd! How impertinent of them to ask of you doctors to cure them! You are not placed near them for that, but only to receive your fees and to prescribe remedies. It is their own look-out to get well if they can. MR. DIA. Quite so. We are only bound to treat people according to form. ARG. (_to_ CLÃANTE). Sir, please make my daughter sing before the company. CLE. I was waiting for your commands, Sir; and I propose, in order to amuse the company, to sing with the young lady an operetta which has lately come out. (_To_ ANGÃLIQUE, _giving her a paper_) There is your part. ANG. Mine? CLE. (_aside to_ ANGÃLIQUE). Donât refuse, pray; but let me explain to you what is the scene we must sing. (_Aloud_) I have no voice; but in this case it is sufficient if I make myself understood; and you must have the goodness to excuse me, because I am under the necessity of making the young lady sing. ARG. Are the verses pretty? CLE. It is really nothing but a small extempore opera, and what you will hear is only rhythmical prose or a kind of irregular verse, such as passion and necessity make two people utter. ARG. Very well; let us hear. CLE. The subject of the scene is as follows. A shepherd was paying every attention to the beauties of a play, when he was disturbed by a noise close to him, and on turning round he saw a scoundrel who, with insolent language, was annoying a young shepherdess. He immediately espoused the cause of a sex to which all men owe homage; and after having chastised the brute for his insolence, he came near the shepherdess to comfort her. He sees a young girl with the most beautiful eyes he has ever beheld, who is shedding tears which he thinks the most precious in the world. Alas! says he to himself, can any one be capable of insulting such charms? Where is the unfeeling wretch, the barbarous man to be found who will not feel touched by such tears? He endeavours to stop those beautiful tears, and the lovely shepherdess takes the opportunity of thanking him for the slight service he has rendered her. But she does it in a manner so touching, so tender, and so passionate that the shepherd cannot resist it, and each word, each look is a burning shaft which penetrates his heart. Is there anything in the world worthy of such thanks? and what will not one do, what service and what danger will not one be delighted to run to attract upon oneself even for a moment the touching sweetness of so grateful a heart? The whole play was acted without his paying any more attention to it; yet he complains that it was too short, since the end separates him from his lovely shepherdess. From that moment, from that first sight, he carries away with him a love which has the strength of a passion of many years. He now feels all the pangs of absence, and is tormented in no longer seeing what he beheld for so short a time. He tries every means to meet again with a sight so dear to him, and the remembrance of which pursues him day and night. But the great watch which is kept over his shepherdess deprives him of all the power of doing so. The violence of his passion urges him to ask in marriage the adorable beauty without whom he can no longer live, and he obtains from her the permission of doing so, by means of a note that he has succeeded in sending to her. But he is told in the meantime that the father of her whom he loves has decided upon marrying her to another, and
{'title': 'The Imaginary Invalid by Molière', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}