Comedy plays; Molière, 1622-1673 -- Translations into English
HEN. You know that you may be sure of my love.
CLI. I see nothing to fear as long as I have that.
HEN. You see to what a union they mean to force me.
CLI. As long as your heart belongs entirely to me, I see nothing to
fear.
HEN. I will try everything for the furtherance of our dearest wishes,
and if after all I cannot be yours, there is a sure retreat I have
resolved upon, which will save me from belonging to any one else.
CLI. May Heaven spare me from ever receiving from you that proof of
your love.
ACT V.
SCENE I.--HENRIETTE, TRISSOTIN.
HEN. It is about the marriage which my mother has set her heart upon
that I wish, Sir, to speak privately to you; and I thought that,
seeing how our home is disturbed by it, I should be able to make you
listen to reason. You are aware that with me you will receive a
considerable dowry; but money, which we see so many people esteem, has
no charms worthy of a philosopher; and contempt for wealth and earthly
grandeur should not show itself in your words only.
TRI. Therefore it is not that which charms me in you; but your
dazzling beauty, your sweet and piercing eyes, your grace, your noble
air--these are the wealth, the riches, which have won for you my vows
and love; it is of those treasures only that I am enamoured.
HEN. I thank you for your generous love; I ought to feel grateful and
to respond to it; I regret that I cannot; I esteem you as much as one
can esteem another; but in me I find an obstacle to loving you. You
know that a heart cannot be given to two people, and I feel that
Clitandre has taken entire possession of mine. I know that he has much
less merit than you, that I have not fit discrimination for the choice
of a husband, and that with your many talents you ought to please me.
I see that I am wrong, but I cannot help it; and all the power that
reason has over me is to make me angry with myself for such blindness.
TRI. The gift of your hand, to which I am allowed to aspire, will give
me the heart possessed by Clitandre; for by a thousand tender cares I
have reason to hope that I shall succeed in making myself loved.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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