Chapter 4

Orgon, Cleante, Dorine

Orgon. Hello, brother! Cleante. I'm glad you've returned before my departure. The countryside isn't quite blossoming yet. Orgon. Dorine . . . One second brother, please! Just let Me set my heart at ease and soothe my fear Concerning the things that have happened here. [To Dorine.] For these past two days, how have things gone on? What has happened? And how is everyone? Dorine. The first day your wife had a bad fever And a headache that just wouldn't leave her. Orgon. And Tartuffe? Dorine. Tartuffe? He's in splendid shape, Fat and flabby, with red lips, and a shining face. Orgon. Poor fellow! Dorine. That night, your wife felt so sick And so feverish that she could only pick At her dinner and scarcely ate a bite. Orgon. And Tartuffe? Dorine. He alone ate with all his might, And devoutly devoured a pair of pheasants And a leg of lamb in our lady's presence. Orgon. Poor fellow! Dorine. The whole night passed before she Could even close her eyes to fall asleep; Shivers and chills beset her in bed, And right up till dawn we watched her with dread. Orgon. And Tartuffe? Dorine. Drowsy from all that he'd consumed, He left the table, went straight to his room, And fell quickly into his nice, warm sack Where he slept all night flat on his back. Orgon. Poor fellow. Dorine. At last your wife began heeding Our good advice that she needed bleeding, And she began to recover soon thereafter. Orgon. And Tartuffe? Dorine. He couldn't have been any better. To fortify himself against every ill And to regain the blood that Madam spilled, He drank at brunch four great glasses of wine. Orgon. Poor fellow! Dorine. Both of them are now quite fine; I'll now be going up to tell your wife Of your deep concern at this threat to her life.