And call for a Retreat while pocketing their pay, Who know how to tally their zeal with their vices,-- Faithless, vindictive, full of artifices-- To ruin someone they'll conceal their resentment With a capacious cloak of Godly contentment. They are doubly dangerous in their vicious ire Because they destroy us with what we admire, And their piety, which gains them an accolade, Is a tool to slay us with a sacred blade. There are many men in this false disguise, But those with pure hearts are easy to recognize. Our age, my friend, has brought into plain sight Many glorious examples of what is right. Look at Ariston, or Periandre, Oronte, Alcidamus, or Clitandre; Their title is one that all agree to. They decline any fanfare for their virtue; They don't indulge in vain ostentation; Their humane faith finds form in moderation; They never censure all of our actions, For they sense the vain pride in such transactions. And, leaving boastful rhetoric to others, By their own actions they reprove their brothers. The appearance of evil is no concern of theirs; They cast the best light on others' affairs. They plot no intrigues; seek no one to fleece; Their only concern is to live at peace. They don't seek to cause any sinner chagrin; Their abhorrence is directed only at sin. And they don't take the side of God more extremely Than God himself--who could act supremely! These are my models, and these are their ways; Such examples are the ones that most merit praise. But your man, in truth, is not made from such steel. In good faith, perhaps, you praise his great zeal, But I think you're dazed by his meaningless Glitter. Orgon. Dear brother-in-law, are you finished? Cleante. Yes. Orgon. Your humble servant. [He begins to leave.] Cleante. Pardon me. One word, brother. Let's drop this discussion. You know that Valere Has your word that he'll be Mariane's spouse. Orgon. Yes. Cleante. And you've announced this fact in your house. Orgon. That is true. Cleante. Then why postpone the event? Orgon. I don't know. Cleante. Do you intend to recant? Orgon. Perhaps. Cleante. How could you go back on your word? Orgon. I didn't say I would. Cleante. I hope no absurd Hitch could make you retract your own promise. Orgon. We'll see. Cleante. Why do you speak with such finesse? Valere sent me to ask you this verbatim. Orgon. Praise God! Cleante. But what shall I report to him? Orgon. What you please. Cleante. But it is essential To know your plans. What are they?