ELMIRE Your declaration's turned most gallantly; But truly, it is just a bit surprising. You should have better armed your heart, methinks, And taken thought somewhat on such a matter. A pious man like you, known everywhere ... TARTUFFE Though pious, I am none the less a man; And when a man beholds your heavenly charms, The heart surrenders, and can think no more. I know such words seem strange, coming from me; But, madam, I'm no angel, after all; If you condemn my frankly made avowal You only have your charming self to blame. Soon as I saw your more than human beauty, You were thenceforth the sovereign of my soul; Sweetness ineffable was in your eyes, That took by storm my still resisting heart, And conquered everything, fasts, prayers, and tears, And turned my worship wholly to yourself. My looks, my sighs, have spoke a thousand times; Now, to express it all, my voice must speak. If but you will look down with gracious favour Upon the sorrows of your worthless slave, If in your goodness you will give me comfort And condescend unto my nothingness, I'll ever pay you, O sweet miracle, An unexampled worship and devotion. Then too, with me your honour runs no risk; With me you need not fear a public scandal. These court gallants, that women are so fond of, Are boastful of their acts, and vain in speech; They always brag in public of their progress; Soon as a favour's granted, they'll divulge it; Their tattling tongues, if you but trust to them, Will foul the altar where their hearts have worshipped. But men like me are so discreet in love, That you may trust their lasting secrecy. The care we take to guard our own good name May fully guarantee the one we love; So you may find, with hearts like ours sincere, Love without scandal, pleasure without fear. ELMIRE I've heard you through--your speech is clear, at least. But don't you fear that I may take a fancy To tell my husband of your gallant passion, And that a prompt report of this affair May somewhat change the friendship which he bears you? TARTUFFE I know that you're too good and generous, That you will pardon my temerity, Excuse, upon the score of human frailty, The violence of passion that offends you, And not forget, when you consult your mirror, That I'm not blind, and man is made of flesh. ELMIRE Some women might do otherwise, perhaps, But I am willing to employ discretion, And not repeat the matter to my husband; But in return, I'll ask one thing of you: That you urge forward, frankly and sincerely, The marriage of Valere to Mariane; That you give up the unjust influence By which you hope to win another's rights; And ... SCENE IV ELMIRE, DAMIS, TARTUFFE