Читать книгу The Imaginary Invalid - Жан-Батист Мольер, Жан-Батист Поклен Мольер, Мольер (Жан-Батист Поклен) - Страница 7

Arg. I say, Angélique, I have a piece of news for yon which, perhaps, you did not expect. You have been asked of me in marriage. Halloa! how is that? You are smiling. It is pleasant, is it not, that word marriage? there is nothing so funny to young girls. Ah! nature! nature! So, from what I see, daughter, there is no need of my asking you if you are willing to marry.

Ang. I ought to obey you in everything, father.

Arg. I am very glad to possess such an obedient daughter; the thing is settled then, and I have promised you.

Ang. It is my duty, father, blindly to follow all you determine upon for me.

Arg. My wife, your mother-in-law, wanted me to make a nun of you and of your little sister Louison also. She has always been bent upon that.

Toi. (aside). The excellent creature has her reasons.

Arg. She would not consent to this marriage; but I carried the day, and my word is given.

Toi. (to Argan). Really, I am pleased with you for that, and it is the wisest thing you ever did in your life.

Arg. I have not seen the person in question; but I am told that I shall be satisfied with him, and that you too will be satisfied.

Ang. Most certainly, father.

Arg. How! have you seen him then?

Ang. Since your consent to our marriage authorises me to open my heart to you, I will not hide from you that chance made us acquainted six days ago, and that the request which has been made to you is the result of the sympathy we felt for one another at first sight.

Arg. They did not tell me that; but I am glad of it; it is much better that things should be so. They say that he is a tall, well-made young fellow.

Ang. Yes, father.

Arg. Of a fine build.

Ang. Yes, indeed.

Arg. Pleasant.

Ang. Certainly.

Arg. A good face.

Ang. Very good.

Arg. Steady and of good family.

Ang. Quite.

Arg. With very good manners.

Ang. The best possible.

Arg. And speaks both Latin and Greek.

Ang. Ah! that I don't know anything about.

Arg. And that he will in three days be made a doctor.

Ang. He, father?

Arg. Yes; did he not tell you?

Ang. No, indeed! who told you?

Arg. Mr. Purgon.

Ang. Does Mr. Purgon know him?

Arg. What a question! Of course he knows him, since he is his nephew.

Ang. Cléante is the nephew of Mr. Purgon?

Arg. What Cléante? We are speaking about him who has asked you in marriage.

Ang. Yes, of course.

Arg. Well, he is the nephew of Mr. Purgon, and the son of his brother-in-law, Mr. Diafoirus; and this son is called Thomas Diafoirus, and not Cléante. Mr. Fleurant and I decided upon this match this morning, and to-morrow this future son-in-law will be brought to me by his father… What is the matter, you look all scared?

Ang. It is because, father, I see that you have been speaking of one person, and I of another.

Toi. What! Sir, you have formed such a queer project as that, and, with all the wealth you possess, you want to marry your daughter to a doctor?

Arg. What business is it of yours, you impudent jade?

Toi. Gently, gently. You always begin by abuse. Can we not reason together without getting into a rage? Come, let us speak quietly. What reason have you, if you please, for such a marriage?

Arg. My reason is, that seeing myself infirm and sick, I wish to have a son-in-law and relatives who are doctors, in order to secure their kind assistance in my illness, to have in my family the fountain-head of those remedies which are necessary to me, and to be within reach of consultations and prescriptions.

Toi. Very well; at least that is giving a reason, and there is a certain pleasure in answering one another calmly. But now, Sir, on your conscience, do you really and truly believe that you are ill?

Arg. Believe that I am ill, you jade? Believe that I am ill, you impudent hussy?

Toi. Very well, then, Sir, you are ill; don't let us quarrel about that. Yes, you are very ill, I agree with you upon that point, more ill even than you think. Now, is that settled? But your daughter is to marry a husband for herself, and as she is not ill, what is the use of giving her a doctor?

Arg. It is for my sake that I give her this doctor, and a good daughter ought to be delighted to marry for the sake of her father's health.

Toi. In good troth, Sir, shall I, as a friend, give you a piece of advice?

Arg. What is this advice?

Toi. Not to think of this match.

Arg. And your reason?

Toi. The reason is that your daughter will never consent to it.

Arg. My daughter will not consent to it?

Toi. No.

Arg. My daughter?

Toi. Your daughter. She will tell you that she has no need of Mr. Diafoirus, nor of his son, Mr. Thomas Diafoirus, nor all the Diafoiruses in the world.

Arg. But I have need of them. Besides, the match is more advantageous than you think. Mr. Diafoirus has only this son for his heir; and, moreover, Mr. Purgon, who has neither wife nor child, gives all he has in favour of this marriage; and Mr. Purgon is a man worth eight thousand francs a year.

Toi. What a lot of people he must have killed to have become so rich!

Arg. Eight thousand francs is something, without counting the property of the father.

Toi. That is very well, Sir, but, all the same, I advise you, between ourselves, to choose another husband for her; she is not of a make to become a Mrs. Diafoirus.

Arg. But I will have it so.

Toi. Fie! nonsense! Don't speak like that.

Arg. Don't speak like that? Why not?

Toi. Dear me, no, don't.

Arg. And why should I not speak like that?

Toi. People will say that you don't know what you are talking about.

Arg. People will say all they like, but I tell you that I will have her make my promise good.

Toi. I feel sure that she won't.

Arg. Then I will force her to do it.

Toi. She will not do it, I tell you.

Arg. She will, or I will shut her up in a convent.

Toi. You?

Arg. I.

Toi. Good!

Arg. How good?

Toi. You will not shut her up in a convent.

Arg. I shall not shut her up in a convent?

Toi. No.

Arg. No?

Toi. No.

Arg. Well, this is cool! I shall not put my daughter in a convent if I like!

Toi. No, I tell you.

Arg. And who will hinder me?

Toi. You yourself.

Arg. Myself?

Toi. You will never have the heart to do it.

Arg. I shall.

Toi. You are joking.

Arg. I am not joking.

Toi. Fatherly love will hinder you.

Arg. It will not hinder me.

Toi. A little tear or two, her arms thrown round your neck, Or "My darling little papa," said very tenderly, will be enough to touch your heart.

Arg. All that will be useless.

Toi. Oh yes!

Arg. I tell you that nothing will move me.

Toi. Rubbish!

Arg. You have no business to say "Rubbish."

Toi. I know you well enough; you are naturally kind-hearted.

Arg. (angrily). I am not kind-hearted, and I am ill-natured when I like.

Toi. Gently, Sir, you forget that you are ill.

Arg. I command her to prepare herself to take the husband I have fixed upon.

Toi. And I decidedly forbid her to do anything of the kind.

Arg. What have we come to? And what boldness is this for a scrub of a servant to speak in such a way before her master?

Toi. When a master does not consider what he is doing, a sensible servant should set him right.

Arg. (running after Toinette). Ah, impudent girl, I will kill you!

Toi. (avoiding Argan, and putting the chair between her and him). It is my duty to oppose what would be a dishonour to you.

Arg. (running after Toinette with his cane in his hand). Come here, come here, let me teach you how to speak.

Toi. (running to the opposite side of the chair). I interest myself in your affairs as I ought to do, and I don't wish to see you commit any folly.

Arg. (as before). Jade!

Toi. (as before). No, I will never consent to this marriage.

Arg. (as before). Worthless hussy!

Toi. (as before). I won't have her marry your Thomas Diafoirus.

Arg. (as before). Vixen!

Toi. (as before). She will obey me sooner than you.

Arg. (stopping). Angélique, won't you stop that jade for me?

Ang. Ah! father, don't make yourself ill.

Arg. (to Angélique). If you don't stop her, I will refuse you my blessing.

Toi. (going away). And I will disinherit her if she obeys you.

Arg. (throwing himself into his chair). Ah! I am done for. It is enough to kill me!