ORGON Argas, my friend who is in trouble, brought it Himself, most secretly, and left it with me. He chose me, in his exile, for this trust; And on these documents, from what he said, I judge his life and property depend. CLEANTE How could you trust them to another's hands? ORGON By reason of a conscientious scruple. I went straight to my traitor, to confide In him; his sophistry made me believe That I must give the box to him to keep, So that, in case of search, I might deny My having it at all, and still, by favour Of this evasion, keep my conscience clear Even in taking oath against the truth. CLEANTE Your case is bad, so far as I can see; This deed of gift, this trusting of the secret To him, were both--to state my frank opinion-- Steps that you took too lightly; he can lead you To any length, with these for hostages; And since he holds you at such disadvantage, You'd be still more imprudent, to provoke him; So you must go some gentler way about. ORGON What! Can a soul so base, a heart so false, Hide neath the semblance of such touching fervour? I took him in, a vagabond, a beggar! ... 'Tis too much! No more pious folk for me! I shall abhor them utterly forever, And henceforth treat them worse than any devil. CLEANTE So! There you go again, quite off the handle! In nothing do you keep an even temper. You never know what reason is, but always Jump first to one extreme, and then the other. You see your error, and you recognise That you've been cozened by a feigned zeal; But to make up for't, in the name of reason, Why should you plunge into a worse mistake, And find no difference in character Between a worthless scamp, and all good people? What! Just because a rascal boldly duped you With pompous show of false austerity, Must you needs have it everybody's like him, And no one's truly pious nowadays? Leave such conclusions to mere infidels; Distinguish virtue from its counterfeit, Don't give esteem too quickly, at a venture, But try to keep, in this, the golden mean. If you can help it, don't uphold imposture; But do not rail at true devoutness, either; And if you must fall into one extreme, Then rather err again the other way. SCENE II DAMIS, ORGON, CLEANTE DAMIS What! father, can the scoundrel threaten you, Forget the many benefits received, And in his base abominable pride Make of your very favours arms against you? ORGON Too true, my son. It tortures me to think on't. DAMIS Let me alone, I'll chop his ears off for him. We must deal roundly with his insolence; 'Tis I must free you from him at a blow; 'Tis I, to set things right, must strike him down. CLEANTE Spoke like a true young man. Now just calm down, And moderate your towering tantrums, will you? We live in such an age, with such a king, That violence can not advance our cause. SCENE III