Orgon. Ah! I'm pleased to see you all assembled. [To Mariane] This contract here should make you very gay; I'm sure you know what I'm about to say. Mariane [kneeling]. In the name of God, who knows how I hurt, And of everything which might move your heart, Forgo, for now, the rights of paternity And release me from my vow of docility. Do not reduce me by some brutal rule To asking God why you've grown so cruel. And this life, alas, that you gave to me-- Do not make it a life of misery. If, contrary to all my sweet hopes of Joy, you forbid me to wed the man I love, Hear me at least--on my knees I implore You not to give me to a man I abhor, And don't push me past the point of despair By using your full force in this affair. Orgon [to himself, sensing himself weakening]. Be firm. This is no time for humanity! Mariane. Your fondness for him doesn't bother me. Indulge it, and if it's not enough to consign Your whole estate to him--then give him mine! I freely consent and will sign on demand, But please, please, do not offer him my hand, And allow me to live in a convent where I May count the sad days till God lets me die. Orgon. Young girls always play such religious pranks When their fathers hobble their lusty flanks! Get up! The harder you have to work to bear it, The greater the virtue and the merit. Let this marriage mortify your senses And quit bothering me with your meek defenses. Dorine. But . . . Orgon. Keep quiet, and stay out of this matter. I completely forbid you to add to the chatter. Cleante. If you will allow me to offer some advice . . . Orgon. Brother, your advice is worth any price: It is thoughtful and I truly respect it, But I hope you don't mind if I reject it. Elmire [to her husband]. What can I think about what you're saying Except that your blindness is quite dismaying! You must be besotted and led astray To refuse to believe what has happened today. Orgon. My dear, I only call 'em as I see 'em. You favor my son, that worthless young bum, And I think that you are afraid to condemn His dirty trick on this most saintly of men. You are, in fact, too calm to be believed; You ought to have seemed a bit more aggrieved. Elmire. When a love-sick man makes a foolish mistake Must we take up arms as if honor's at stake? And should we always respond to small slips With fire in our eyes and abuse on our lips? For myself, I laugh at these signs of lust; It doesn't please me at all to grow nonplussed. I seek wisdom tempered with charity, And I'm not one of those prudes whose asperity Is such that they fight for virtue tooth and nail,