Damis. Father, it may surprise . . . and amuse you greatly . . . To hear the news of what's gone on lately. You're being well paid for all your caresses By your friend's response to those tendernesses. His great love for you has shown its hold Through his eagerness to make you a cuckold. And I heard him here confess to your bride A love that has made him heart-sick and dove-eyed. At all costs she wants to remain discreet And preserve his secret--because she's sweet-- But I cannot bear the man's impudence And think that my silence would cause you offense. Elmire. Yes, I would never disturb my husband's rest By reporting the words of silly pest. My honor does not depend on such a thing Since I'm well able to resist flattering. You wouldn't have spoken out against my view If I had any power over you. SCENE VI Orgon, Damis, Tartuffe Orgon. What do I hear? Good God! Is it credible? Tartuffe. Yes, brother, I'm wicked and culpable, A sorry sinner, full of iniquity, As great a wretch as there ever could be. My entire life has been soiled with evil; It's nothing but a mass of sinful upheaval. And I see that God has, for my punishment, Chosen to mortify me with this event. Let them connect any crime with my name; I waive all defense and take all the blame. Believe what they tell you, stoke up your wrath, And drive me like a felon from your path. The shame that I bear cannot be too great, For I know I deserve a much worse fate. Orgon [to his son]. Traitor! Do you dare, by your duplicity, To taint both his virtue and purity? Damis. What? Can the false meekness of this hypocrite Cause you to belie . . . Orgon. Shut up, you misfit. Tartuffe. Oh, let him go on. You are wrong to scold, And you'd be wise to believe the story he's told. In light of his claims, why should you favor me? What do you know of my culpability? Why put your faith in my exterior? Why should you think that I'm superior? No, no, appearances are fooling you, I am the kind of man you should eschew. The whole world thinks that I have earned God's blessing, But the plain truth is . . . that I'm worth nothing. [Addressing Damis] Yes, my dear son, speak. And don't merely chide. Accuse me of treason, theft, and homicide. Call me every foul name you can recall. I deny nothing. I merit it all. And I beg on my knees to bear this chagrin As the shameful result of my life of sin. Orgon [To Tartuffe]. That's too much, brother. [To his son] Why can't you let go, Scoundrel? Damis. What! Have his words seduced you so . . . Orgon Keep quiet, you bum! [To Tartuffe]. Brother, please arise.