of the ancients, and that he never would understand or
listen to the reasonings and experiments of the pretended
discoveries of our age in reference to the circulation of the
blood, and other opinions of the same kind. 28

THOM. {Drawing from his pocket a large thesis rolled
up, which he presents to Angelique). I have defended a the-
sis against the circulators, which, with the permission of
your father (Bowing to Argan), I make bold to offer to
this young lady, as a homage which I owe to her of the
first fruits of my mind.

AN. It is a useless piece of furniture to me, Sir, and I
am no judge in these matters.

Toi. (Taking the thesis). Give it all the same; it is
worth taking for the picture; it will do to decorate our
room.

THOM. (Again bowing to Argan). Once more, with the
permission of your father, I invite you to come and see,
one of these days, for your amusement, the dissection of a
woman, upon which I am to lecture.

Toi. The entertainment will be pleasant. There are
some people who treat their mistresses to a comedy ; but
to provide a dissection is more gallant.

MR. D. For the rest, as regards the requisite qualities
for wedlock and propagation, I assure you that, according
to the rules of our physicians, he is such as could be wished
for ; that he possesses in a praiseworthy degree the prolific
virtue, and that he is of the proper temperament to engen-
der and procreate well-conditioned children.

ARC. Is it not your intention, Sir, to push him at

28 Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood in 1619, and many
discussions took place in France on that subject, which were not com-
pletely ended when Moliere's last play was performed. This same year
(1673) Louis XIV. instituted at the jfardin des Plantes a special chair for
anatomy.



192 THE IMAGINARY INVALID. (ACT n.

Court, and to procure for him the place of a physician in
ordinary ?

MR. D. To speak frankly to you, our profession when
near the great has never appeared pleasant to me; and I
have always found that it does better for us to remain with
the public. The public is easy to deal with; you are re-
sponsible for your actions to no one; and provided you
follow the current of the rules of your art, you need not be
uneasy about what may happen. But what is vexatious
with the great, is that, when they fall ill, they absolutely
wish their physicians to cure them.

Toi. That is funny ! and they are very impertinent to
wish you gentlemen to cure them ! You are not near them
for that ; you are there only to receive your fees, and to
order them remedies ; it is for them to get better, if they
can.

MR. D. That is true ; one is only obliged to treat peo-
ple according to the rules.

ARG. {To Cleanti). Just make my daughter sing a little
before the company, Sir.

CLE. I was awaiting your orders, Sir; and an idea has
just struck me, to entertain the company, to sing with the
lady a scene from an operetta which has lately been com-
posed. ( To Angelique, giving her a paper). There, this is
your part.

AN. I?

CLE. {Softly to Angelique'}. Do not make any objection
to it, pray, and let me make you understand what the scene
is which we are to sing. (Aloud}. I have no voice for
singing ; but in this case it is sufficient that I can make
myself heard ; and you will have the kindness to excuse
me, by the necessity under which I find myself to make
the young lady sing. 29

ARG. Is the poetry good ?

CLE. It is properly called a little improvised opera; and
you will only hear sung rhythmical prose, or some sort of
blank verse, such as affection and necessity might suggest



29 A similar scene is also to be found in The Blunderer (see Vol. I.), The
School for Husbands (see Vol. I.), Love is the Physician (see Vol. II.),
The Sicilian (see Vol. II.), and The Miser (see Vol. III.)



SCENE in.} THE IMAGINARY INVALID. 193

to two persons, who say those things out of their own
heads, and speak on the spur of the moment.

ARC. Very good. Let us listen.

CLE. This is the plot of the scene : A shepherd was
attentively watching the beauties of a spectacle which had
just commenced, when his attention was disturbed by a
noise which he heard at his side. He turns round, and
sees a coarse fellow, who with insolent words insults a
shepherdess. Immediately he espouses the interests of
that sex to which all men owe homage ; and after having
given the coarse fellow the punishment due to his in-
solence, he comes back to the shepherdess, and beholds a
young person, who, from the most lovely eyes which he
had ever seen, drops tears which he thinks the most beau-
tiful in the world. Alas ! says he to himself, can people
be capable of insulting so amiable a being ! and what in-
human monster, what barbarian would not be touched by
such tears ? He busies himself to stop them, these tears
which he thinks so beautiful ; and the gentle shepherdess
takes care at the same time to thank him for his slight
service, but in a manner so charming, so tender and so
impassioned, that the shepherd cannot resist it; and every
glance, is a dart full of fire with which his heart feels itself
pierced. Is there ought, said he, that could deserve the
sweet words of such an acknowledgment ? And what
would we not do, to what services, to what dangers would
we not feel delighted to run, to attract to ourselves, but
for one moment, the moving tenderness of so grateful a
heart ! The whole of the spectacle is enacted without his
paying the least attention to it ; but he complains that it
is too short, for the end will separate him from his ador-
able shepherdess ; and from this first sight, from this first
moment, he brings back with him all that can be most
intense in a passion of several years' duration. Behold
him immediately experiencing all the ills of absence, and
he is tortured by seeing no longer her whom he has seen
such a short time. He does all he can to enjoy this sight
once more, of which he preserves night and day so pre-
cious a recollection; but the great restraint under which
his shepherdess is kept deprives him of every opportunity.
The violence of his passion makes him resolve to ask for



194 THE IMAGINARY INVALID. [ ACT .

the hand of the adorable fair one, without whom he can
no longer live ; and he obtains her permission by means
of a note which he has the skill to have conveyed to her.
But, at the same time, he is informed that the father of
his fair one has projected a marriage with some one else,
and that everything is being prepared to celebrate the
ceremony. 30 Judge how cruel is the blow to the heart of
this sad shepherd ! Behold him overwhelmed by a mortal
grief; he cannot bear the horrible thought of seeing all
he loves in the arms of another ; and in despair, his love
makes him find the means of introducing himself into the
house of his shepherdess to learn her feelings, and to know
from her the fate to which he is to submit. He there
meets with the preparations for all that he fears ; he wit-
nesses the coming of the unworthy rival whom the whims
of a father oppose to the tenderness of his love ; he sees
him triumphant, this ridiculous rival, near the gentle
shepherdess, as if the conquest were sure ; and this sight
fills him with anger which he can scarcely master ; he
darts painful glances at her whom he adores; and the
respect for her, and the presence of her father, prevent
his saying anything to her except by his looks ; but at
last he breaks through all restraint, and the transport of
his passion obliges him thus to speak (He sings}

Beauteous Philis, it is too much, it is too

much to suffer ;
Let us break this cruel silence, and bare your

thoughts to me.
Tell me my fate .
Am I to live ? am I to die ?

AN. (Singing). You behold me, Tircis, sad and melan-
choly,
At the preparations for the marriage which alarms

you.

To Heaven I lift my eyes, I look at you, I sigh ;
Need I to tell you more ?

30 Moliere has borrowed this tale of Cleante most probably from the
Sanish of Francisco de Roxas, which had already been used by Thomas
Corneille, in Don Bertrand de Cigarral, a comedy, performed in 1650.



SCENE vi.J THE IMAGINARY INVALID. 195

ARC. Lack-a-day ! I did not think that my daughter
was so clever as to sing thus at first sight, without hesi-
tating.

CLE. Alas ! fair Philis,

Can it be that the enamoured Tircis
Could be happy enough
To find a place in your heart ?

AN. I do not refuse to acknowledge it, in this exceed-
ing grief;

Yes, Tircis, I love you.
CLE. O word full of charms !

Have I heard rightly ? Alas !
Say it once more, Philis, so that I may not doubt.
AN. Yes, Tircis, I love you.
CLE. For mercy's sake, once more, Philis.
AN. I love you.

CLE. Repeat it a hundred times ; do not get weary.
AN. I love you, I love you ;
Yes, Tircis, I love you.
CLE. Ye gods, ye kings, who look down upon the world

beneath your feet,

Can you compare your happiness with mine ?
But, Philis, one thought
Comes to trouble this sweet bliss.
A rival, a rival . . .
AN. Ah ! I hate him more than death ;

And his presence is to me, as it is to you,
A cruel torture.

CLE. But a father wishes to compel you to obey his
wishes.

AN. Sooner, sooner will I die
Than ever consent to it ;
Sooner, sooner will I die, sooner will I die. 81
ARC. And what says the father to all this ?
CLE. He says nothing.

ARC. That is an idiot of a father, to suffer all this non-
sense without saying anything.



81 La Grange and the wife of Moliere had a great success in this scene,
as it is said in the Sixth of the Entretiens Galants, about Music, published
in Paris in 1681.



196 THE IMAGINARY INVALID. [ ACT 11.

CLE. ( Wishing to continue to sing).
Ah ! my love . . .

ARC. No, no ; this is enough of it. This comedy sets
a very bad example. The shepherd Tircis is an imperti-
nent fellow, and the shepherdess Philis is an impudent hussy
to speak in that way before her father. (To Angelique).
Show me this paper. Ah ! ah ! but where are the words
which you have spoken? There is nothing but music
written there ?

CLE. Do not you know, Sir, that it has been recently
invented to write the words with the notes in one ? M

ARC. Very good. I am your servant, Sir; good-bye.
We could have very well dispensed with your impertinent
opera.

CLE. I thought to amuse you.

ARC. Nonsense does not amuse. Ah ! here comes my
wife.

SCENE VII. BELINE, ARGAN, ANGELIQUE, MR. DIAFOIRUS,
THOMAS DIAFOIRUS, TOINETTE.

ARG. My love, this is the son of Mr. Diafoirus.

THOM. Madam, it is with justice that Heaven has granted
you the title of stepmother, for we see in your face . . . M

BEL. Sir, I am delighted to have come here opportunely,
to enjoy the honour of seeing you.

THOM. For we see in your face . . .for we see in your
face . . . Madam, you have interrupted me in the midst
of my period, and that has confused my memory.

MR. D. Thomas, reserve this for another opportunity.

ARG. My pet, I would have wished you to be here just
now.

Toi. Ah ! Madam, you have lost a great deal in not
having been here at the second father, at the statue of
Memnon, and at the flower called heliotrope.

ARG. Come, daughter, put your hand in this gentle-
man's, and pledge him your faith, as to your husband.

82 In the Elzevir edition of the play, Cleante pretends that the words of
the duet are old and well known.

83 Thomas Diafoirus utters a compliment which he has studied, but can-
not finish it. Belle-mere means stepmother, but belle mere handsome
mother.



SCENE vii.] THE IMAGINARY INVALID. 197

AN. Father . . .

ARC. Well ! father ! What does this mean.

AN. Pray, do not hurry matters. Give us at least time
to know each other, and to see grow up in us that in-
clination for one another which is so necessary to form a
perfect union.

THOM. As for me, Miss, it is already entirely grown up
in me ; and I have no need to wait any longer.

AN. If you are so prompt, Sir, it is not the same with
me ; and I confess to you that your merit has not as yet
made any impression on my heart.

ARC. Oh ! well, well ; there will be ample leisure for
that when you are married.

AN. Ah ! father, give me some time, I pray you.
Wedlock is a chain to which we should never subject a
heart by force ; and if this gentleman is a man of honour,
he ought not to wish to accept a person who would be his
by coercion.

THOM. Nego consequentiam, Miss ; and I may be a man
of honour, and still wish to accept you from the hands of
your father.

AN. It is a bad means of making yourself beloved by
any one by doing her violence.

THOM. We read of the ancients, Miss, that their custom
was to carry away by force, from the homes of their
fathers, the daughters who were led to marriage, so that it
might not appear to be by their own consent that they flew
into the arms of a man.

AN. The ancients, Sir, are the ancients ; and we are
the people of the present day. Pretences are not at all
necessary in our age ; and when a marriage pleases us, we
know well enough how to go to it, without being dragged
to it. Have patience ; if you love me, Sir, you ought to
wish everything that I wish.

THOM. Yes, Miss, up to the interests of my love, ex-
clusively.

AN. But the great sign of love is to submit to the
wishes of her whom we love.

THOM. Dtstinguo, Miss. In what concerns not her pos-
session, concedo; but in what concerns it, nego.

Toi. You may argue as much as you please. The



198 THE IMAGINARY INVALID. [ACTII.

gentleman is fresh from college, and he will always give
you your answer. Why resist so much, and refuse the
glory of being attached to the body of the faculty ?

BEL. Perhaps she has some other inclination in her
mind.

AN. If I had, Madam, it would be such as reason and
honour would allow.

ARG. Good gracious ! I am acting a pretty part here.

BEL. If I were you, child, I should not force her to
marry ; and I know well enough what I should do.

AN. I am aware, Madam, of what you mean, and of the
kind feelings which you have towards me ; but your de-
signs may not perhaps be so happy as to be executed.

BEL. It is because very circumspect and very respec-
table girls like you, do not care to be obedient and sub-
missive to the wishes of their fathers. That was very well
in times gone by.

AN. The duty of a daughter has its limits, Madam ;
and neither reason nor the laws extend it to other mat-
ters.

BEL. This means that your ideas are not averse to mar-
riage ; but that you wish to choose a husband according
to your own fancy.

AN. If my father will not give me a husband whom I
like, I shall beseech him, at least, not to force me to mar-
ry one whom I cannot love.

ARG. Gentlemen, I ask your pardon for all this.

AN. Every one has his own motive for marrying. As
for me, who wish no husband but to truly love him, and
who intend to make it a life-long attachment, I confess to
you that I am somewhat cautious about it. There are
some who take husbands only to emancipate themselves
from the restraint of their parents, and to place themselves
in a position to do as they like. There are others, Mad-
am, who make marriage a commerce of sheer interest,
who only wed in order to obtain jointures, to enrich
themselves by the death of those whom they espouse, and
run without scruple from husband to husband, to appro-
priate to themselves their spoils. These persons, in truth
do not stand upon so many ceremonies, and have little
regard to the persons themselves.



SCENBIX.] THE IMAGINARY INVALID. 199

BEL. I find you in a great mood for arguing to-day, and
I should like to know what you mean by this.

AN. I, Madam? What should I mean but what I
say?

BEL. You are so silly, my dear, that there is no enduring
you any longer.

AN. You would like to provoke me, Madam, into an-
swering you by some impertinence ; but I warn you that
you shall not have the advantage.

BEL. Your insolence is matchless.

AN. No, Madam, you may say your best.

BEL. And you have a ridiculous pride, an imperti-
nent presumption, which causes every one to shrug their
shoulders.

AN. All this will be of no avail, Madam. I shall be
prudent in spite of you ; and to take away all hope of
your succeeding in what you wish, I shall retire from your
presence.

SCENE VIII. ARGAN, BELINE, MR. DIAFOIRUS, THOMAS

DlAFOIRUS, TOINETTE.

ARC. ( To Angelique, who is going). Hark ye. There
is no middle way in this case : make up your mind to
marry this gentleman in four days, or a convent. ( ToBeline).
Do not trouble yourself: I shall manage her properly.

BEL. I am sorry to leave you, child ; but I have some
business in town which I cannot delay. I shall soon be
back again.

ARC. Go, my love, and call in at your notary, that he
may attend to what you know.

BEL. Farewell, my little dear.

ARC. Good bye, darling.

SCENE IX. ARGAN, MR. DIAFOIRUS, THOMAS DIAFOIRUS,
TOINETTE.

ARC. There is a woman who loves me . . . it is not to
be believed.

MR. D. We are going to take leave of you, Sir.

ARC. Pray, Sir, just tell me in what condition I am.

MR. D. (Feeling the pulse of Argari}. Come, Thomas,
take hold of the other arm of this gentleman, to see



200 THE IMAGINARY INVALID. [ACT n.

whether you can form a good judgment of his pulse.
Quid diets ?

THOM. Dico, that this gentleman's pulse is the pulse of
a man who is not in good health.

MR. D. Good,

THOM. That it is hardish not to say hard.

Dr. D. Very well.

THOM. That it acts by fits and starts.

Mr. D. Bene

THOM. And even a little irregular.

MR. D. Optime.

THOM. Which is a sign of intemperature in the splene-
tic parenchyma, which means the milt.

MR. D. Very good.

ARC. No; Mr. Purgon says that it is my liver which is
not right.

MR. D. Well, yes : whosoever says parenchyma, says
the one and the other, on account of the close sympathy
there is between them through the vas breve, the pylorus,
and often through the meatus cholidici. He no doubt
orders you to eat much roast meat.

ARC. No ; nothing but boiled.

MR. D. Well, yes : roast, boiled, the same thing. He
prescribes very carefully for you, and you cannot be in
better hands.

ARC. Sir, how many grains of salt ought there to be
put in an egg?

MR. D. Six, eight, ten, in even numbers, just as in
medicine in odd numbers.

ARC. Until we meet again, Sir.

SCENE X. BELINE, ARGAN.

BEL. I have come, child, before going out, to inform
you of something to which you ought to look. In passing
by Angelique's room, I noticed a young man with her,
who ran away the moment he saw me.

ARC. A young man with my daughter !

BEL. Yes. Your little daughter Louison was with them,
who can tell you particulars about it.

ARC. Send her here, my love, send her here. Ah ! the



SCENE xi. 1 THE IMAGINARY INVALID. 2OI

bold hussy. (Alone). I am no longer astonished at her
resistance.

SCENE XI. ARGAN, LOUISON.

Lou. What do you wish with me, papa? My step-
mother has told me that you want me.

ARG. Yes. Come here. Come closer. Turn round.
Turn up your eyes. Look at me. Eh ?

Lou. What, papa?

ARG. So?

Lou. What?

ARG. Have you nothing to tell me ?

Lou. I will tell you, if you like, to amuse you, the story
of The Donkey's Skin, or the fable of The Raven and the
Fox, which I have been taught lately. 35

ARG. That is not what I ask you.

Lou. What then ?

ARG. Ah ! you sly girl, you know very well what I
mean !

Lou. I beg your pardon, papa.

ARG. Is it thus that you obey me?

Lou. What?

ARG. Did I not recommend you to come and tell me
directly all that you see ?

Lou. Yes, papa.

ARG. Have you done so ?

Lou. Yes, papa. I have come and told you everything
I saw.

ARG. And have you seen nothing to-day ?

Lou. No, papa.

ARG. No ?

Lou. No, papa.

ARG. You are sure?

Lou. I am sure.

ARG. Oh ! very well ; I shall let you see something.

Lou. (Noticing some switches which Argan has taken
up). Oh ! papa.

85 Perrault published the story of Peru <T Ane (the Donkey's Skin), in
1694, and as The Imaginary Invalid was performed in 1673, it is a proof
that it was well known long before it was published.



202 THE IMAGINARY INVALID. [ACT u.

ARC. Ah ! Ah ! you little deceiver, you do not tell me
that you have seen a man in your sister's room !

Lou. (.Crying). Papa!

ARC. ( Taking Louison by the arm). This will teach
you to tell lies.

Lou. (Throwing herself at his knees.} Ah! papa, I
ask your pardon. It is because my sister told me not to
tell you ; but I am going to tell you all.

ARC. First of all you must be whipped for having told
a lie. Afterwards we shall see about the rest.

Lou. Pardon, papa.

ARC. No, no.

Lou. Dear papa, do not whip me.

ARC. You shall be whipped.

Lou. In Heaven's name, papa, do not whip me !

ARC. ( Wanting to whip her). You shall, you shall.

Lou. Ah ! papa, you have hurt me. Wait : I am
dead. (She pretends to be dead.

ARC. Hullo ! What is this ? Louison, Louison ! Ah !
great Heaven ! Louison ! Ah ! my daughter. Ah ! un-
happy being that I am ! my dear daughter is dead ! What
have I done, wretch that I am ! Ah ! these cursed
switches ! The plague take the switches ! Ah ! my poor
daughter, my poor little Louison !

Lou. There, there, papa do not cry so : I am not en-
tirely dead.

ARG. Do you see the artful little girl ! Well, I forgive
you this time, provided you really tell me everything.

Lou. Oh ! yes, papa.

ARG. You had better be careful in any case; for this
little finger knows everything, and will tell me if you tell
lies.

Lou. But, papa, do not tell sister that I have told you.

ARG. No, no.

Lou. (After having made sure that no one is listening).
A man came into sister's room while I was there.

ARG. Well?

Lou. I asked him what he wanted, and he told me that
he was her singing-master.

ARG. (Aside). Hem, hem ! that is it. (To Louison).
Well?



SCENE xii.] THE IMAGINARY INVALID. 203

Lou. Sister came in afterwards.

ARC. Well?

Lou. She said to him : begone, begone, begone.
Great Heavens, begone ; you will drive me desperate.

ARG. Well?

Lou. And he, he would not go.

ARG. What did he say to her?

Lou. He said to her I do not know how many things.

ARG. And what more ?

Lou. He said this, that, and the other, that he loved
her dearly, and that she was the prettiest girl in the
world.

ARG. And after that ?

Lou. And after that, he fell down on his knees before
her.

ARG. And after that ?

Lou. And after that, he kissed her hands.

ARG. And after that ?

Lou. And after that, stepmother came to the door, and
he ran away.

ARG. There is nothing else ?

Lou. No, papa.

ARG. My little finger, however, mutters something.
(Placing his finger to his ear]. Wait. Eh! ah! ah! Yes?
oh ! oh ! Here is my little finger, which tells me of some-
thing that you have seen, but which you have not told me.

Lou. Ah ! papa, your little finger is a story-teller.

ARG. Take care.

Lou. No, papa; do not believe it: it tells a story, I
assure you.

ARG. Oh ! very well, very well, we shall see. Go now,
and take notice of everything : go. (Alone). Ah ! there
are no longer any children ! Ah! what perplexity! I
have not even so much leisure as to think about my illness.
Really, I can hold out no longer. (He drops into a chair.

SCENE XII. BERALDE, ARGAN.

BER. Well, brother ! what is the matter ? How do you
do?

AR. Ah ! brother, very poorly.



204 THE IMAGINARY INVALID.

BER. How ! very poorly ?

AR. Yes ! I am in so weak a state, that it is incredible.

BER. That is sad.

AR. I have not even the strength to be able to speak.

BER. I came hither, brother, to propose to you a match
for my niece Angelique.

AR. (Speaking excitedly, and rising from his chair],
Brother, do not speak to me about this hussy. She is a
wretch, an impertinent, impudent girl, whom I shall place
i n a convent before two days are over.

BER. Ah ! that is right ! I am very glad that your
strength is coming back a little, and that my visit is doing
you good. Well, we will talk of business by-and-by. I
have brought you an entertainment with which I fell in,
which will dissipate your chagrin, and make you better
disposed for what we are to talk about. They are Gipsies
dressed as Moors, who perform dances intermixed with
songs, with which I am sure you will be pleased ; and this
will be as good for you as a prescription of Mr. Purgon.
Come.



SECOND INTERLUDE,

The brother of the Imaginary Invalid brings, to amuse
him, several Gipsies of both sexes, dressed as Moors, who
perform some dances intermixed with music,

IST MOORISH WOMAN

Sweet youth,

Take advantage of the spring

Of your best years ;

Take advantage of the spring

Of your best years ;