All language subtitles for Misantropen (1974.Danish.Ingmar Bergman).FIXED.x264.DVBrip.English v4

The Misanthrope
Comedy by Molière

Cast:

Alceste, in love with Célimène

Philiente, Alceste’s friend

Oronte, in love with Célimène

Célimène, beloved by Alceste

Eliante, Célimène’s cousin

Arsinoë, Célimène’s friend

Arcaste, marquis

Clitandre, marquis

Basque, Célimène’s servant

An Officer of the Maréchaussée

Dubois, Alceste’s servant

Translation

Scenography and costumes

Lighting designer

Direction

Not merely for pleasure

What is wrong?
-Leave me alone.

What is this temper, my dear?
-I’m sick and tired.

Listen to me before you get angry.

I want to be angry,
I choose not to listen.

Where will this violent disposition lead?
Though we’re friends, I must insist.

I, your friend?

No, we are through.

Until now I’ve counted you
among my friends, but now…

Now that I really know you
I declare our friendship over.

I keep to honest people.

What have I done wrong?

You appear so changed.

You should be ashamed
the way you’ve behaved.

There is no excuse for such behavior,
it must seem scandalous to everyone.

You treat one with the greatest adulation.

You cherish your friendship with him,
constantly making him promises.

One thinks your warmth must have a reason.

When I ask who you’ve
so tenderly embraced.

You barely know him!

You hardly remember his name.

As soon as he had left,
you no longer cared about the case.

Good grief! The way you carry on
is disgraceful and cruel.

If I had done what you’ve just done…

I’d go and hang myself, right on the spot.

I have no reason to do that!

Hear my humble prayer
and let my punishment wait a while.

And hang me for a better reason.

To joke about such things is improper.

But, seriously, what is it you want?

I’d have you be truthful
and only say what is your heart.

But when a man greets you with kindness…

Must you not reciprocate
that same behavior?

Wouldn’t you respond with sympathy
to return the compliments?

No I cannot stand your deceitful method
currently in fashion.

Mostly, I hate phoney words
that live on the lip but not in the heart.

Those who offer their praise
to each and everyone.

Though the flattery mean nothing,
since they’re handed out to everybody.

For the man of honour
as well as the insipid fool.

It doesn’t do well to insult all wishes
and always say plainly one’s thoughts.

Suppose meeting a man
you didn’t want to see.

Should you really say that to his face?

Yes I would.

To Emilie, you’d say she wants to
act young though she’s an old maid?

That her heavy make-up offends everyone.

Yes.

And to Dorilas, that he’s a nuisance
who brags though nobody wants to hear.

Naturally.

You don’t mean that.
-Yes I do!

I tell you, where chastising is due,
I know no mercy.

I’ve already put up with too much.

And everybody, at Court
as well as in town, provokes my spleen.

I become deeply melancholic and grieved

each time I think about
the state of things.

Everywhere I turn, I see nothing but
treachery and lies before my eyes.

I’m disgusted by all this guile.

And this is why I declare
war against the world.

Such philosophical spleen
appears to me too morose.

Sorry that I smile of your sombre whims.

We resemble the well-known brothers in

The School for Husbands, they…

If only you would keep
your parables to yourself.

Let’s be serious.
This austerity suits you badly.

You won’t change the world, that’s settled.

Since honesty has you charmed,
listen to the consequences.

Everywhere, you will be a laughing stock.

Your war against the customs
will achieve but one thing:

Making a fool of yourself!

So much the better.

That is just what I want.

That is, after all, what I seek.

All men are odious to me, I should
be sorry to appear rational to them.

So you wish to take revenge on mankind?

That I will, I hate it of all my power.

All of the pitiful mankind?

You’re bitter and angry
at one and all of them?

There are some, though, who one must call…

No there are none, I hate them all!

One because he is evil,
the other because he accepts evil,

instead of holding it in contempt.

And this scoundrel with whom
I am at law, this wicked boy.

His wickedness shines
behind his bland façade,

Everybody knows his
manner’s a charade.

And yet,
his ugly face is welcome everywhere.

One greets him, smiles and honours him.

And where there is a promotion,

even the worthiest
must stand in the shadow of him.

Good grief!
Can’t you honour an honest man,

just see how you
incessantly greet vice.

You make this thought so bitter to me.

And so sombre that I will flee from
the world and live in a desert.

Oh God, let us not distress
so much by the way of the world.

Towards human nature
one must must show mercy.

You shouldn’t always see it so dismally.

And judge with a bit of mercy
the errors it did commit.

I see just as well as you
the things that could be better done.

If you have reason to be angry,
then I have as well.

But I don’t make a fuss,
exploding in fits of rage.

I accept men calmly just as they are.

And the way a man is,
that’s the way I receive him.

I think that this phlegm
is just as rational as your spleen.

But can this phlegm, this
all-knowing phlegm, never become upset?

What if a friend is disloyal?

If your possessions are stolen?

If people spread false rumors about you?

Is phlegm then still your duty?

I look upon these faults as vices
that are connected with human nature.

I’m no more shocked at human roguishness
than at preying vultures or wolves.

So I’m to watch the fellow fleece me?
And not… I shall say no more.

How low is your mentality!

You would do well to keep silent,
and not look to dispute.

Attend more to your process
while there’s time.

The process?
I am surely not to take care of that?

Who else should if I may ask?

Justice and the power of reason.

And talking to the judge
is not your intention?

No! Since my case is right,
it can speak for itself.

I’m sure it probably can, but you do know…

No, I’m sure. It would be robbing myself.

You should consider…

I won’t budge.

Your opponent
will achieve his goal cunningly.

That’s all the same to me!

You might be wrong.

Time will tell!

If I lose so what? I don’t care.

By this trial it will clearly be proven…

Whether men are impudent
as to do me this injustice.

But listen, what man would…

I’ll gladly lose the case
if I can bring attention to this point.

If people could only hear
the way you carry on…

They would laugh at you, trust me.

That would be worse for themselves.

This rectitude and integrity, which
you exact, do you see it in your lover?

This integrity you demand,
this truth exact,

say, do you find
them, in her you love?

And what surprises me still more,
is the person that you favor…

The noble Eliante has a liking for you…

The prude Arsinoë
looks with favor upon you…

Only Célimène can keep you enchained.

In spite of the fact
that her coquetry and wit

accords so well with these manners.

I can’t see how,
hating these things as you do,

you stoically accept them in that lady?

Are they not faults in her? Do not you
see them, or do you excuse them?

Not so. I love the young widow but I
clearly see her faults and know them well.

I am the first to see them
and condemn her ways. And yet…

I must confess my weakness…

What absorbs my heart the most,
I find in her.

Of course, I hate her faults…

But my rigor constantly fails,
her charms prevail.

My love, in time, will purge her soul
and the vices of the age.

If you do that, you will deserve praise.
But do you think she loves you?

Yes, of course!

I wouldn’t love her,
if this matter wasn’t sure.

Well then, but since this is settled,
why should rivals bother you, friend?

A lover wants to be wholly loved in return.

And the reason I’ve come
here is just to tell her

my thoughts and what I have at heart.

If I were to make your choice,
I would address my suit to Eliante.

She esteems you highly, and if you
chose her you’d choose a sweet woman.

Yes, quite true. My reason tells me so.
But reason does not govern love.

Though I don’t want to foreshadow
your affections, I must…

I was told that Eliante is out,
and with her Célimène.

I was just about to leave,
when I heard that you were upstairs.

Then I had to come up and earnestly
tell you how I esteem you, my dear.

I’ve long felt that, among all men,

you’re the one I would like most
to count as friend.

I always recognize true worth,
and I aspire to us becoming friends.

A man of importance such as I, his
friendship is not a thing to be refused?

I am talking to you as you might observe.

To me?

Yes, you. I hope I don’t offend you.

By no means. But I’m very much surprised.

I did not expect such an honour.

That is in virtue of your friendship.

A man such as you
should be revered by all.

Monsieur!

Even the State can’t come close
to rewarding you as much as it should.

I’ve yet to find your equal on this earth,
A man within a mile of what you’re worth.

Monsieur!
-And I say, it is true…

To prove my feelings, let me embrace you,
and ask for a place among your friends.

Do you promise me your friendship?

My hand I offer you, take it.

Monsieur…

Oh, so.

Monsieur, you honour me far too much.

But friendship
really needs a little more reserve.

If we call everyone friend,
then we profane.

We take the name of ‘friend’ in vain.

A friendship should be birthed
by the heart as well as reason.

And before you become friends,
you should know each other.

Who knows if your disposition
is the same as mine?

If not, we should both
repent our hasty bargain.

Spoken like a man of sense!
And I esteem you for it all the more.

We’ll let time knit
these gentle ties between us.

But meanwhile, I am at your service.

If you need any favor from the court…

You know,
I’m in good standing with the king.

He always listens to the advice I have
to tell and always treats me very well.

In short,
I am at your service however you wish.

Since I value your
opinion more than others’,

I’d like to start our friendship…

Wait a minute…

I will show a poem I’ve written, a sonnet!

Pray tell me whether
it deserves to be published?

You don’t seem to know how peculiar
I am in my convictions, pray excuse me.

Why? -Because I have an awful way
of blurting out my opinion.

That’s what I want. I’d complain
if you didn’t fully give me your word.

Okay then, as you want. Begin, I am ready.

Sonnet, for it is a sonnet you should know.

Hope… To the woman who I like.

Hope… It is no great poetry,
but a small verse, soft and languishing.

That remains to be seen.

Hope… I don’t know if its style

will seem clean-cut,
or if the wording will satisfy you.

Yes, that remains to be seen.

The whole thing took no more
than a quarter-hour to write.

Yes, just read! Time is of no importance.

Hope…

Hope, it is true, alleviates our woe

And helps us for a moment to endure

But, Phyllis, this advantage brings us low

When nothing follows from hope,
that is sure

How fine, how charming.

It’s incredible how you have
the impudence to approve of that.

You showed me some benevolence

But should have shown me less, or none

Nor put yourself to such expense

Since all you had to offer me
was hope alone

In what elegant verse
these things are phrased.

How can you praise
such empty-headed nonsense?

If I must wait eternally

By an eternal hope my sparks be made to fly

And die to end my lost endeavor

Then vain your care, my Phyllis fair

Hope and despair are one, I swear

When hope lasts on forever

What a magnificent ending.

What elegant rise and fall.

You yourself should
fall, have your face maimed,

sycophant, that’s what you deserve.

I never heard verse better turned.

Good grief!

You flatter me.

You think flattery delights me?

No no, I’m not flattering.

What then, traitor?

But you,
you know the bargain that we’ve made.

So tell me what you think,
straight out and all the way.

It is always a little challenging
to judge such things.

We would all like
to be admired for our wit.

I once said, no matter to whom,
about his verse when shown to me…

That a decent man
should keep his writing itch to himself.

And he has sense who knows to
not boast about his intellect.

And that by showing ones works, one might
make a fool of oneself before realising.

This entails then,
that I am not allowed to compose?

I didn’t say so.

But I told him,
a poem that doesn’t enthuse

deeply in the soul
only incites derision.

Let the man who wrote it be ever so kind,
people are judged by their foibles.

Have you something to say,
then, against my sonnet?

I didn’t say so.

I tried to show him that today,

this poet-itch has spoiled people
who deserved better.

Am I among those and do I write badly?

I didn’t say so.

But I asked: What’s put you to this craze,
why so obsessed with publication?

Only when writing to
survive is such rubbish excused.

I urge you to stop and tell no one!

That name of honour
in which you delight,

don’t lose to achieve
exaltation as a poet.

Don’t let your publisher persuade you
to expose yourself to mockery as a scribe.

That’s what I preached him again and again.

Yes, your intention is well enough,
and I do get the intention.

But please tell me why my sonnet is…

Put it in your desk, then you’ll be right.

You have been guided
by the worst models

and you don’t know
how to write naturally.

What is this?
‘Sorrow helps us for a moment to endure’.

And that ‘nothing follows from hope’.

‘But should have shown me less, or none,

since all you had to offer me
was hope alone’.

‘Hope and despair are one,
I swear, when hope lasts on forever’.

This style that’s so prominent these
days, is far from truth and sensibility.

It’s merely play on
words and affectation,

and nature speaks far
otherwise than so.

Though our ancestors were crude,
but they had better taste than us.

I would give up all modern artifice

for one old-fashioned song,
which goes like this.

If the king had given me
His Paris town so fair

But to have it I must leave
Loving of my dear, O!

I would say, “King Henry,
pray take back your Paris fair”

“I’d rather have my dearie, O!
I’d rather have my dear.”

The style’s old
and the rhyme is not exact,

but there’s more poetry in this
than in your modern trifles.

For here it is truth and emotion
that speak.

‘If the king had given me
His Paris town so fair’.

‘But to have it I must leave
Loving of my dear, O!’

‘I would say, King Henry,
pray take back your Paris fair’

‘I’d rather have my dearie, O!
I’d rather have my dear.’

That’s what
a really loving heart might say.

Just you laugh,
but for this plain desire,

I reject all the platitudes
you like so much.

I stand by my sonnet nonetheless.

You have your reasons, but I too have mine,
and you can’t require that mine yield.

I’m satisfied to find
that others prize them.

They pretend to prize it,
but that is hypocrisy.

Maybe you think you’ve got
all the wisdom in the world?

If I had lauded it,
you would have thought me wise.

Never mind your commending,
I can do without it.

You’ll have to, my noble friend.

How amusing if you were to compose,
I’d like to see your verse.

My verses might be as bad as yours
but in that case nobody’d have to see.

You are authoritative
and harsh in your judgment.

Yes, if you wish to be homaged,
don’t come to me.

Hey, there, my little man,
don’t take that tone with me.

I take the tone I like, my great man, you
don’t have to agree - Gentlemen, enough!

This is not proper for you.

Yes, I am wrong,
I’ll gladly quit the field.

I am your servant,
Monsieur, with all my heart.

I am your servant, Monsieur,
can I walk with you?

Honest… That you are. But at what cost?

Now you’ve made yet another enemy.

That Oronte wanted praise, I saw.

Don’t say anything -But…
-Leave me be -It’s shameful! -Abandon me!

But I… -Leave me alone!
-Listen! -I don’t want to listen!

But! -Won’t you leave?
-My dear! -Good grief!

Don’t follow me!

I won’t depart from you,
you’d not know me if you thought so.

Madame, If I may speak plainly,
I’m not satisfied with your behavior.

It is with great concern I see how you act.

Soon our friendship will become cold, yes
I can’t deny that a break seems imminent.

My dear Alceste,
have you followed me home

only to create strife
between the two of us?

I’m not creating strife, but with grief I
see, you open your heart to every protégé.

With your host of admirers
you play your games,

I find it difficult
to get used to this.

It is with great calm
I take such an unfounded allegation.

Is it my fault
that the men are pleased with me?

When they swarm around me in admiration,
I ought to chase them away with a stick?

No it is not stick that is needed,
Madame, but a heart that is more careful.

I know your charms dazzle, but of
those dazzled you hold on to them all.

You kindly welcome them,
and awaken in each the same hope.

By doing this,
you bind them all in attendance to you.

Complacence on your part would
drive away this jostling mob of suitors.

At least tell me by what kind of tricks
Clitandre can have pleased you so much?

On what foundation of merit in him
do you base the honour of your esteem?

Is it his one long fingernail
that makes him such a catch?

May be the merit of
his yellow wig quite overcame you,

as it did the rest of society?

Or maybe he owes his fortune
to his magnificent trousers?

Or can it be his laugh and falsetto,
that made him the lover of your choice?

How foolishly you take offence at him!
You know exactly why I treat him kindly.

My case comes up soon: he intends
to plead my cause with all his friends.

Then better lose your case, it pains me
that you retain a rival whom I detest.

You grow jealous of anybody and everybody.

Because I see all sorts welcomed here.

Exactly becuase I am equally polite to
all, you have no reason to jealousy.

You’d have more cause to be offended,
were all my favours heaped on one.

You say that I’m a lot too jealous.

Tell me, what do I have,
that the rest have not?

The happiness of knowing you are loved.

How can my heart be sure of it?

I think that since I’ve
taken pains to say so,

such a confession
ought to be sufficient.

How shall I know
you didn’t say as much to all the others?

Truly, a gallant lover’s compliment!

You seem to have
peculiar thoughts about me.

Well, then, to save you such anxiety,
I take back, here and now, all I have said.

Deceive yourself then,
I’ll pay no more regard to you.

Regrettably, I love you boundlessly.

If I could but get back my heart, how
I’d bless Heaven for such a rare fortune!

I strive with all my strength, I wish
to break the bonds by which I’m bound.

Still all my greatest
efforts come to nothing,

it must be for my
sins I love you so.

Truly,
you love with an unparalleled warmth.

On that point I challenge all the world.

My love is inconceivable,
it cannot be depicted.

No one has ever loved as I do.

But your method is novel,
you can’t deny that.

You only love in order to quarrel.

The feelings you express are like enmity,
I’ve never known a love so crotchety.

It rests with you to dissipate this strife.

And turn my anger
into delight and happiness.

Let us speak open-heartedly,
and with a calm…

What is it?
- Arcaste.

Please show him in.

You’re never a moment alone,
why can’t you show the door to anyone?

If someone once was turned away,
we could finally have a quiet moment.

You surely don’t want me to offend Arcaste?

Forget his feelings, just a little.

He would never forgive me,
if he’d feel unwelcome with me.

What would be the harm?

A man such as him
must be handled with care.

It’s people like him
who have their say at Court.

There, they’re a great success,
I don’t know why.

They’re at home
and have a stand everywhere.

Though they cannot help you,
they may harm you.

No matter what support you may have,
you must not quarrel with these gentry.

Your excuses may be genuine, the fact is,
you’re prepared to let the whole world in.

You’re good at justifying yourself.

Madame, here is Clitandre.

That’s it!

Are you going?
-I’m leaving!

No, stay! -Why should I?
-Stay! -No!

I want you to.

I can’t tell you how these chats weary me,
it’s too much to ask me to endure them.

I want you to, I do!

No no, I take my leave.

Then go! Or stay. Do as you wish.

The two marquis followed me here.

You’ve been informed?

Yes. Fetch some chairs.

Oh, so you’ve not gone yet?

No, as you see.
I want you to decide now: them or me?

Oh, do be quiet!

You must choose.

You’re mad.

Do it now! -Oh no!
-Decide! -Your joke is loathsome.

I’ve been waiting long enough.

I’m coming from the Louvre.

Cléonte did prove himself
a perfect ass at the levee.

Has he no friend who could enlighten him
with comments on his manners?

He always plays the fool,
truly everybody must find him outrageous.

When you see him after some absence,
you find him more fantastical than ever.

Talk of fantastic characters! I’ve just
encountered the most tedious: Damon.

Who with his talk, for more than
an hour forced me stroll in the sun!

An odd character!

He has his own way of saying
naught with many words.

You can’t make head or tail
of his discourse,

and what you listen
to is only noise.

A good opening. The conversation

takes a fine start toward
slandering our neighbors.

Timante’s another perfect type.

From head to foot,
of mystery and gravity compact.

He rushes past,
and nods distractedly.

He’s always busy,
though there’s nothing to do.

He pulls the oddest faces, he always
makes a fuss, he’s a frightful bore.

Though he tries to whisper in your ear,
his secrets are a waste of time to hear.

A triviality will set him all aglow. He
even makes a point of whispering ‘hello’.

And Gerald, Madame?

Monsieur, good gracious, no!

He always has to play the aristocrat…

is always moving
in the highest circles,

and constantly talks of
princes and princesses.

All the prestige has turned his head,
his talk is all of horses and dogs.

He thees and thous the men of rank, and
just plain Monsieur is obsolete with him.

He’s on the best terms with
Bélise as far as I know.

That dreary woman, she never says a word.

The days she calls I
suffer such an ordeal,

I struggle to keep the
conversation alive.

Constantly the barrenness
of her expression lets it die again.

You try to break the silence,

introduce the most banal clichés,
but no, it’s no use.

You try the weather,
if it’s cold or hot, sunny or rain,

but you find there’s nothing new.

It’s ghastly, you wish she’d be gone,
but she stays on and on.

You ask what’s the time, it’s no good:
She goes on sitting, like a log of wood.

What think you of Adraste?

What arrogance! The gentleman’s obsessed
with his own brilliance.

He’s never contented with the Court, since
they don’t recognize his exceptionality.

When someone else is appointed to office,
he immediately takes offence.

What of the young Cleon then?

At his house one finds the best of
society, does he please you more?

I can’t say that’s the case.

He’s made himself a merit of his cook,
and it’s his table people go to call on.

He takes great care
to serve the daintiest dishes.

Yes, if he only didn’t also serve himself.

The man’s peculiar, he’s indigestible,
it makes his dinner parties detestable.

His uncle, Damis, is tremendously polite.

He’s a friend of mine
and you’re completely right.

He seems a gentleman, and full of sense,
whose bearing does delight me.

Yes but he’s always trying to be witty.

In all his talk, he labors to be
delivered of some brilliant saying.

And since he has taken a notion
to be clever, nothing can hit his taste.

He criticizes all,
everywhere he sees errors.

Delivering praise is
below a brilliant man.

He thinks critique is a
sign of being erudite,

that showing admiration
means you’re inept.

In fact, he thinks he’s
showing he’s superior

by claiming all our
writers are inferior.

Even in conversations he finds frailty,

talk’s too trivial
for his spirit of nobility.

He folds his arms in pity at our plight,
and looks down on us from exalted height.

That’s just his picture, to the life.

For drawing portraits, you’re incomparable.

Oh very good, my court-friends.

Give everyone his due,
and don’t spare anyone.

Yet if one showed, you’d rush to meet him,
kiss his cheeks, swear you’re his friend.

It’s not us that are doing harm,
you must direct your blame against Madame.

No, to you!
It’s your approving laughter

that aids
these slanderous arrows of her wit.

It’s your sickening flattery that
gives rise to her satire and mockery.

Her gossip wouldn’t be such fun
if she wasn’t praised by everyone.

Her flatterers must take blame
for vices spread by of them.

Why are you on their side, when you’ve
said their behavior makes you wince?

He simply cannot share
the same opinion as others.

He must always have his belief for himself.

More than anything else, the wish for
naysaying has become firmly rooted in him.

Others’ opinions are not fit for him.

And he must always hold the opposite.

And he’d feel himself humiliated indeed,
if he found his fellow men and he agreed.

The glory of contradiction charms him so.

He even combats his own beliefs,
if he hears them from another’s lips.

You have the laughers, on your side I see,
you’re free make jokes, just aim for me.

You can’t deny you’re always up in arms
against everything that anybody says.

And with ill-humor you take offence,
by blame or praise, it makes no difference.

Good grief! I am right to be.
Because they’re always in the wrong.

Everywhere, I find fellow men perverse.
Praise or blame, which is worse?

But!
- If it will be my last word.

Your amusement
is less innocent than you think.

People here are wrong to nourish your
inclination to the faults they blame.

Allow me to observe,
believe me if you will.

That hitherto
I’ve found the lady faultless.

I find her full of
graces and attractions,

but as for faults,
I haven’t seen them yet.

I know her faults,
of that she surely knows.

I don’t conceal them, I make them exposed.

The more we love,
the less we ought flatter,

true love is proven
by condoning nothing.

For my part, I would banish those lovers
I found agreeing with my character flaws.

And pandering with weak obsequiousness
to my vagaries upon all occasions.

Is this what you advise? If we’re in
love, we needn’t try to be polite.

One is only to be rude.

The only one who is truly passionate
is the one raving at those they love?

This law is not found
in the average lover’s voice…

You’ll find that he’ll be keen
to boast about his choice.

Their passion can find
naught in her to blame.

And everything about her’s truly lovable.

They count her faults perfections,
and invent sweet names to call them by.

The frightful dark one is a rich brunette.

The pallid maiden is like
a pure white jasmine flower for fairness.

The skinny girl has spontaneity,
the plump one moves with dignity.

A scruffy neglects herself and lacks appeal
He thinks her beauty’s natural, more real.

A giantess is like a goddess,
that’s his claim.

A dwarf embodies
Heaven’s delights in her small frame.

A girl who’s arrogant
could hold the entire world.

A sly one’s brilliant, sweet is the fool.

The chatterer is always in a merry mood.

A tongue-tied girl is modest,
has such a tactful attitude.

Thus does a lover, whom passion fires,
love even the faults of whom he admires.

Well, let me tell you… - Stop it for once,
let us go for a walk in the gallery.

What, are you leaving?
- Oh no, Madame, we wouldn’t.

Stay if you please, Messieurs,

but I give you notice I won’t stir
before you are gone.

Unless Madame would that I went away,

I don’t have to rush,
I’ve nothing on today.

I’ve got an evening duty
to perform at Court,

but I have no other
business to engage me.

You’re joking, I assume.

No. Let’s see,
whom will you send off first?

Monsieur, a man wants to speak to you
on business that can’t be put off.

Tell him I know no urgent business.

He’s wearing a smart coat
with lacing and tassels…

Go see what it is, and let him in.

What seek you? Come forth.

Monsieur. I am here to report…

Speak out then, Monsieur,
and let me know what it is.

The honourable Marshals, bid you
appear before them, Monsieur, at once.

A summons to me?

Yes.
- And what for, may I ask?

It must be Oronte who has appealed.

What’s this?

Oronte and he have fallen out over a poem
he disliked. They want to settle the case.

I won’t budge an inch from my opinion.

Orders must be obeyed. Come, get ready…

They think it’s possible to reconcile us?

Do they think they can coerce me
to approve of his atrocious verse?

I won’t back down, my opinion stands:
The poem is bad.

Yes, but say it with a gentler tone.

I’ll stick to the point.

You ought to be a little tractable and come.

All right, I’ll come. But nobody
can make me take change my mind.

Let’s just go.

Unless the king commands me to think the
verses are good, I shall stick to my point.

The poem is offensive altogether,
to hang him by the neck would be proper.

By God’s blood, gentlemen,
I didn’t know I was so entertaining.

Go away where you are summoned.

I’ll come straight back again
to settle our debate.

Sur le Pont d’Avignon

Dear Marquis, you seem so cheerful and
content, as if fortune has indulged you.

Be honest with me: have you
so much reason to be so full of joy?

When I look myself well over,
I can’t find any cause for discontent.

I’m rich, I’m young, I’m of a noble
family that is held in universal respect.

And by the rank which my extraction gives
me, I can lay claim to almost any office.

In courage, which we all must value,
the world knows that I’m not lacking.

Not long ago,
I did carry an affair of honour

quite dashingly and
cavalierly through.

With wit, of course,
I’m furnished, and good taste.

To judge off-hand and talk on any subject.

When a new comedy come out, I’m on
the stage-seats as the knowing critic…

deciding the drama’s fate, and lead
the praise when a passage merits bravos.

I’m quite athletic, I look sleek, my
teeth are splendid, I’ve a slim physique.

I’m top in one thing, as all must confess:
I rule supreme when it comes to dress.

I find myself as much esteemed as can be,
loved by the fair sex, favored by the king.

And with this, dear Marquis, I should
think that one could settle anywhere.

If you’re so anxious to impress,

why waste your time here,
where there’s no hope of success?

What, me? Not I, you mean?

I wouldn’t waste my time upon
a beauty who turns me down.

Let commoners burn
for frigid beauties,

and try to win their hearts
in this tragic fashion.

And try to make up for, by long
continuance of service, their scanty merit.

But men like me, dear Marquis,
are not made to love on credit.

However rare may be the ladies’ merits,
I think that I’m as good as they.

If somebody wishes
to be honoured with a heart like mine,

I say it plainly, it’s not free.

The least a man like me can ask, to make
things fair, is meeting him half-way there.

You think then, Marquis,
you’re in favor here?

I have some reason, Marquis, so to think.

Trust me, you are mistaken, my dear.
You flatter yourself and must be blind.

I flatter myself, I am blind.

What makes your happiness so perfect?

I flatter myself.

Let’s hear! -I’m blind.
-Let’s hear the evidence! -I fool myself.

Has Célimène secretly
told her true opinion?

No, she just derides me.

But answer me. -I’ve nothing but rebuffs.
-Stop jesting, say what hope she’s given.

She can’t stand me,
and you’re the lucky person.

She feels for me a horrible aversion.

And one of these days
I must hang myself.

Look here, Marquis.

Let’s end this dispute,
and instead agree to make a mutual pact.

If either of us show convincing proof,
that he’s preferred by Célimène…

He shall keep his seat. The other
shall refrain from assiduous rivalry.

That’s a proposition I thoroughly like,

and it won’t be a surprise
that I’ll agree to that.

Madame!

Still here?

Yes, enchained by you.

I heard just now a carriage driving in.
Do you know who it is?

No
- Arsinoë is here, she’s asking for you.

What can the woman want?

Eliante is present, she’s talking to her.

What does she want with me?
Why can I never have peace?

She everywhere is called a perfect prude.
And her meek nature…

Is all for show.

At heart she’s worldly and does her utmost
to hook some man, yet she can’t succeed.

So she can only look with eyes of envy
upon another woman’s train of suitors.

Abandoned and with bitterness in her soul,
she rails at our age and finds it blind.

She acts like a prude,
but she lives an dreary life in solitude.

To save the credit of her feeble charms,
she makes a crime of every power they lack.

The lady, all the same, would like a lover,
and even has a weakness for Alceste.

She thinks his love for me is some slur,
she insists I have stolen him from her.

And in her jealous spite,
but ill concealed,

she secretly attacks me everywhere.

In short, she’s so such an idiot.

She conducts herself
in such a silly malice that...

Oh! What chance has brought you here?
In truth I was anxious for you, my dear.

I’ve come because I want to give you
some advice for your own good.

How kind! Aren’t I lucky?

How considerate of the gentlemen to resign.

Don’t you want to sit?
- No thank you, I prefer to stand.

Friendship ought most to show itself, in
things that are of most importance to us.

I’ve come to say,
I’m worried for your sake,

and warn you that your
honour is at stake.

Yesterday,
I called upon some noble friends,

and the talk was of you, amongst others.

They were keen to notice
your good sides…

But generally,
it was not praise you received.

The men flock around your door in queues,
your flirting, and the gossip that ensues…

were criticized so strongly,
it seemed unfair,

and judged, I found it hard to bear.

I tried to do you good.
I defended you as best I could.

I said I’d vouch for it
your heart was right,

swore you really
had good intentions.

You know how it is, sometimes it’s no use.
There are things in life one can’t excuse.

And in the end,
I had no choice but to agree with them

that how your life’s a bit too free.

That to the world it had an ugly look,
that everywhere it makes all sorts of talk.

And that your conduct might, if you chose,
give less reason for censorious judgment.

I can’t believe you don’t do what you ought.
Heaven preserve me from such thought!

But folk are all too keen
to swallow all that stuff,

and knowing that you’re
blameless isn’t quite enough.

You’re very reasonable,
you’ll receive my advice in good part,

and heed it, I believe.

You know I say this only
out of considerations for our friendship.

I don’t know how to thank you
for your advice, Madame.

It was too kind,
and I won’t take it wrongly.

I’ll do you the same for you,
dear, in return.

You’ve been a friend to me, I can see. You
hear the gossip, and give it back to me.

You set a good example,
it’s my turn now

to tell what’s said of you,
if you’ll allow.

The other day, as I was visiting somewhere,
I met some worthy people gathered there.

They talked of things
that decent people do,

and then the conversation turned to you.

They said you’re prudish and repressed,
Setting a bad example: no one’s impressed.

Your assumption of a grave demeanor,
your endless talk of virtue and honour.

You shriek with horror at harmless fun,

you sniff out innuendo,
find it where there’s none.

The high esteem in which you hold yourself.
And pity that you cast on others.

The way you snipe at us,
your attacks on things which are pure.

All this, excuse me for speaking so freely…

Was not exactly mentioned too gently.

What is the good, they said,
of all this outward show of solemnity?

It’s not in accord with her true nature.

She’s punctual at her prayers, but beats
her servants and won’t pay their wages.

She goes to church to show she’s dutiful.
But paints her face to look beautiful.

Nudes in paintings are embarrassing,
yet she lusts for the real thing.

I rushed to your defense, defying everyone,
and I maintained their attack was overdone.

But I couldn’t convince
a single one to agree.

It’d be well to think less of what others
do, and concentrate more carefully on you.

Try some introspection, now and then,
before launching attacks upon fellow men?

And add the weight of exemplary living
to any censure that we pass on others.

Even so we should leave it to those whom
Heaven appoints to judge such matters.

I hope you likewise are too sensible,
Madame, to take amiss this useful advice.

I’ve only let this come forth out of
my concern for all that touches you.

A person trying to do
good must risk attack,

I could’ve expected
that you’d answer back.

Your outburst’s quite revealing. I observe
that my advice has touched on a raw nerve.

No, it pleased me. Were folk wise
such mutual advise would be the fashion.

In good faith, they’d soon dispel the
blindness we suffer as regards ourselves.

We can continue, If that is your intention,
to help each other in this fashion.

By remembering correctly and saying plainly
what you may hear of me and I of you.

Ah! Madame, I can hear no ill of you.
It is in me that everything’s to blame.

Everything may be praised or blamed,
and much depends on the time and season.

There is an age for love-affairs.
And there’s an age that’s fit for prudery.

It may be wise to choose the second when
youth is gone and all its glamour faded.

For that may serve
to hide a sorry downfall.

Perhaps some day
I’ll follow in your footsteps.

For age brings everything, but Madame,
it’s not time to be a prude at twenty.

You plume yourself upon a slight advantage,
and make a frightful noise about your age.

The trifling difference between yours
and mine is nothing to be proud of.

And I can’t see why you’re so angry,
and fall upon me in such bitter fashion.

I’m quite taken aback
how you get at me behind my back.

Why blame me may I ask? If men
neglect you, must I be taken to task?

I may be lucky, I attract a lot of men,
who call upon me daily. Well, what then?

Is this my fault,
what would you have me do?

The field is free for
you, and I don’t hinder

your having charms to win them,
if you can.

Well! Do you think that anyone’s concerned
about the host of lovers you’re so vain of.

As if we cannot easily infer
what price is paid to get them now-a-days.

Do you think there’s any likelihood
you draw a crowd, solely by your good?

They’re inflamed with honourable passion,
they court you only for your virtues?

No one is blinded by such vain pretences,
the world’s no dupe.

I know of several with as
much beauty as anything,

and not have lovers
dangling on a string.

Whereby we may infer that they’re not won
without some great advances on our part.

Men don’t woo us to look from afar.
They want something, that’s how they are.

So don’t show off,
and think it’s satisfactory

To boast of your
pathetic little victory.

Let not your beauty be so conceited.

You’ve no call to look down,
you’re not superior.

If my charms could envy yours their
conquests, I might just do as you do.

And prove, by being lavish of myself,
that one has lovers if one wants them.

Then have them, Madame, let us see it done.

It would be amusing to see
what would come of this.

And without…
-Thats enough, Madame.

Shouldn’t we call a halt?

It’ll carry us too far if we don’t stop.

I should have taken my leave
a long time ago.

My carriage has kept me waiting.

No I pray, stay.
Nothing need hurry you home.

No one will be waiting
for you there anyways.

But I won’t stand on ceremony, as you see.
I’ll leave you in much better company.

Here’s a Monsieur…

Most opportunely come.

He has a better talent for conversing.

I must leave now, Alceste,
I’m sorry, there’s a letter I must write.

Please stay with Madame and talk.

She will be so kind, I’m sure,
to excuse my impoliteness.

Nothing to do
but to accept your sentence…

and keep me occupied, just for a moment,
until my carriage comes.

Her hospitality could offer nothing more
charming to me than such conversation.

You’re a man whose merit is supreme,
you’re held in high esteem.

Your worth has some charm to make my
heart espouse your interests in every way.

I wish you were better valued at the court.
They should appreciate you, they ought.

You’ve reason to complain. I’m out of
patience to see them do nothing for you.

Me, pray what claim have I upon them?
What service have I rendered to the state?

What right have I, I ask with respect,
to make a fuss and accuse them of neglect?

Not all those whom the court delights to
honour have always done such services.

It’s luck that counts, you know,

and all the qualities of mind
you show should surely…

Talk not about virtues!
The Court doesn’t value such qualities.

It would have its hands too full,

if it attempted to bring to light
the worth of all.

But brilliant worth
will bring itself to light.

And yours is esteemed by many,
more than you know.

I know several men extolled you yesterday,
from noble houses if I may say.

Madame, now-a-days all are praised.
I don’t care for empty praise.

One praises high and low
and everything nowadays is equally fine.

One drowns in all the flattery and praise.
Even my valet’s appeared in the Gazette!

Oh, you should display yourself
a little more.

Some court employment
might appeal to you.

If you’ll show the least desire for it,
we’ll set intrigues at work to serve you.

I’ve persons at my call, to help you
and make the pathway to preferment.

Play a role at court? To what point?
I’d rather away, I’d feel out of joint.

I completely lack the soul
congenial to court atmosphere.

Let’s drop the court, if this theme bothers
you, and talk about your love instead.

To tell you just what I think, I could wish
your passion were more fittingly bestowed.

You certainly deserve a kinder fate,
for she who charms you is unworthy of you.

When you say so, do you comprehend
that you’re discussing your devoted friend?

I’ve been most unhappy all along.
I can’t stand how she does you wrong.

The state I see you in afflicts my soul too
much. I warn you that your love’s betrayed.

How can I thank thank enough for
showing such sympathy for my situation.

Though my friend, she is unworthy to have
a good man’s heart, in her’s is but guile.

In love, it’s hard to know. With your meek
heart, you’d refrain causing doubt in mine.

If you prefer not to be undeceived, I’ll
say no more to you, that’s easy enough.

No, on the contrary, I wish to know
the whole truth to put an end my doubt.

Let me tell you, I don’t take kindly
to anything but a clear piece of evidence.

That’s right enough.

You shall receive full insight on the case.

All the schemes will be brought to light…

and all the plots be brought forward.

Escort me home, there I’ll show you.

There I’ve got a most revealing proof
that will remove all doubt.

And you will lose faith
in that scheming woman.

And if your heart can love another fair…

perhaps you’ll find your consolation there.

No, never was seen a mind
so hard to manage…

or compromise so difficult to make.

They tried appealing to the Good or using
power, but he kept to what he once said.

A stranger case
has probably never been seen before.

And no more difficult has it ever been
to settle on a decision.

I will agree to all you please,
Alceste said…

but on this one point I cannot budge.

Why is he dissatisfied?

On what charges will he judge me?

Does writing rubbish
seem to him a source of pride?

Is it my fault,
that he didn’t appreciate my advice?

A gentleman can still write awful verse.

This not raise the point of honour.
I hold him a man brave and courteous.

In short, nobleman through and through.
But still, a wretched writer.

In short, the only favor or concession he
could with effort bring himself to grant…

was these words,
which in his opinion were very mild:

‘I cannot change my opinion
however much I would like to’

I wish with all my
heart that I could agree with you

and have liked your sonnet better.

That was the best the judges could impose,
a brief embrace brought matters to a close.

Yes, his ways are very strange.

But I must confess that I appreciate
the honesty he always shows.

It does have a noble
and heroic side to it, which I like.

It’s a rare virtue, especially now-a-days.

I wish everyone held honesty
in the same regard as he.

And I, I well…

The more I see of him, the more amazed
I am of this passion inside him.

With such a character, I don’t know
how he ever came to love at all.

And even less how it could be
your cousin that his fancy fixed upon.

This goes to show that love is blind,
and doesn’t depend on harmony of humors.

The theories of inherent harmony between
souls are pretty but must be rejected.

But does she really love him,
of that I am not sure.

That is a point not easy to determine.

How should we know, when her
own heart’s not sure of what it feels?

Sometimes she thinks she loves
when she doesn’t.

And sometimes she loves without knowing it.

I think our friend is very like
to have more trouble than he looks for,

with your cousin.

If he but felt as I do,
he’d look in quite a different direction.

As long as you accord him kind favor,
he can’t make a better choice.

I don’t try to hide my
feelings, and think,

in such things,
we should be straightforward.

I don’t oppose his love. On the contrary,
I’d rather do my best to forward it.

If the matter could depend on me, I should
unite him with the one he loves so dearly.

If she loved him in return.

But if, and these things happen,
he there learns of the adversity of love…

If she then she leaves him relentlessly,
I should be glad to receive his homage.

His having been refused, in such a case,
would cause me no aversion.

For my part, I likewise don’t oppose
your kindness for him.

He can tell you, if he will,
What I have said to him upon that point.

If they join in marriage
and free you from your promise,

I would rejoice more than you know.

Blissful would be the day on which I
receive the love that he seems to reject.

Philinte, you’re jesting.

I am speaking here from my innermost heart.

I long for the moment where I can
make this offer and await your answer.

I pray, Madame, I need your help,
for I’ve been violated most nefariously.

What is the matter? What can move you so?

That anyone can act so audaciously.

Complete upheaval of the universe could
not overwhelm me more than this disaster.

Everything, I’ve lost everything…

my love, my faith.

Try to control yourself somewhat, Alceste.

Heaven! Why must so many graces
be united with vice in one woman?

Pray tell me, who has…

Everything, everything is over!
My whole life wasted to treachery!

Célimène… It’s unheard of,
unbelievably harsh…

Célimène has chased away
my good faith and trust.

Have you sufficient grounds
for that belief?

Maybe your misery is premature?

You are driven by jealousy, my dear.

Good grief! Mind your own business. Her
base ways are documented in this letter.

Here’s a letter she’s written to Oronte,
disclosing her shame and my misfortune.

Oronte, whose suit I
thought she scorned,

and whom I feared the least
of all my rivals.

Even letters are not so guilty as they
may appear. You should calm down a little.

Monsieur, will you let me alone,
this is not your concern.

You must try
to control your anger, Alceste.

You have to help me. Only you can heal this
heart, and aid my revenge and consolation.

Avenge me on she who has betrayed me.
Does such treachery not arouse horror?

Avenge you?

How could I?
- Take my hand and my heart…

our bond will then avenge
that perfidious fake.

Her punishment will be
the gentle bond that ties me to you.

The love of my life,
my heart will henceforth

offer at your shrine,
in joy and sorrow.

I truly sympathize with what you suffer.

And I make no mistake
of what you’ve just told me.

But maybe there’s still hope left, so you
may yet give up this wish for vengeance.

You may find, since you love your
tormentor, that you may change your mind.

Even with well-grounded reasons, a guilty
loved one soon seems innocent again.

In our minds, she will soon
be acquitted for all her guilt.

A lover’s wrath disappears quickly.

No, Madame. The injury goes much too deep.
There’s no relenting. I’m leaving her.

If I could love her still, I’d hate myself.

But here she comes.
My anger is redoubled at sight of her.

I’m going to tell her
of her actions to her face.

And bring to you a heart
quite freed from her delusive charms.

No!

How can I control my vehemence?

Ooh!

What’s the matter with you now?

Why are you heaving all these sighs,
and gazing at me with such sombre eyes?

For horror at its worst, and cruelty,

there’s nothing to compare
with your disloyalty.

And Heaven and hell
never produced a creature so perverse.

A pretty compliment,
now I recognize you again.

It’s no time for laughter.
Far rather blush, for you have reason to.

I have full proof of your perfidy.

It was this my presentiments foretold,
not without reason was my love alarmed.

Though those doubts you called hateful,

my soul foresaw the truth
that my eyes have found.

If you think to get away with it, this
final act of deceit, you don’t know me.

I know that will has no control
of our hearts, it can’t be forced.

And every soul is free
to name its master, I know that!

So I could find no reason for complaint,
if you had rejected me without deceit.

But by treachery cause my love to grow,
that’s deceit of an unprecedented kind.

No punishment is too severe,
no word too harsh, no revenge too cruel.

Fear the worst, I follow nothing
but my rage, no limits, no ends.

Pierced by the deadly blow which you have
struck, my reason can’t rule my senses.

I yield to impulses of righteous anger,
and won’t answer for my actions.

But tell me, whence comes this excess of
passion? Have you quite lost your senses?

Yes, I lost them.

How could I be anything but?
The sight of you mixes poison in my blood.

When I thought to find some slight
sincerity in those deceitful appearances.

Deceitful appearances?

In what manner have I deceived?

You truly are a hypocrite.

But it must come to an end.

Look at this, this letter…

you know the handwriting and its author.

It reveals your deceit so clearly,
I’m sure you’ve nothing more to say.

So that’s the thing
you’re so worked up about.

Yes, it is just that!

Why aren’t you blushing?

Why on earth should I blush,
I don’t see why?

You’re devious, and bold as well.

Will you disown it for being unsigned?

But why disown a letter that I wrote?

You take this as if it were nothing,
but it’s your sentence you’re passing.

You’re the most eccentric man I know.

So you find nothing in this document?

You think the love shown in this
letter for Oronte does not wrong me?

Who says the letter is to him?

Why, those who put it in my hands.

But suppose it wasn’t addressed to him…

Would I have less reason to complain
of you? Are you less culpable for that?

But suppose it was meant for a lady…

Against whom
would you then turn the charge?

A fine evasion, I must admit.

I didn’t expect such a shift,
and I am quite convinced by it, of course

You think you can deceive me with this?
How dare you lie to me so crudely?

Come on, just show me how and why
you aim to make me swallow this blatant lie.

Show that the letter, tender to the end,
was for a female friend.

Explain to me just a few of these words…

I do not care to.

Look at you, to assume such domination,
and say the things you dare to, to my face.

Now don’t get angry,
try a little to justify these words here.

I don’t want to do that…

and what you may think of it
is nothing to me.

But I beg, show how it can fit
a woman and not a man.

No, the letter is to Oronte as you say.

I cherish his polite flattery.

I’m filled with joy every time I see him.

In short, you’re right.

What do you want?

Now you know.

Do what you choose,
but don’t vex me about it any more.

No.

Can anything be found more cruel?
Was ever a heart so treated?

I come with righteous anger to complain…

and find myself the one that’s blamed.

She goads my griefs…

She bids me think the worst…

and does not oppose it.

And yet my heart is still so base
it cannot break the chains…

How to arm myself with proud disdain
for the woman who has enchained it?

How skilled you are in one thing,
I must confess…

You know how
to turn my weakness against me.

And use to your own ends the power of
love that sprung from your fickle beauty.

Defend yourself at least!

Don’t be so indifferent
and say that you are guilty!

Just explain all this to me, how did it
happen, and I will remain your friend.

If you would just try at least to appear
without fault, then I will trust you again.

You must be out of your mind.

You don’t deserve the kindness
shown to you.

You should leave!

I won’t be forced to hypocrisy by anyone.

Least of all for your sake
would I think so ill of myself.

If I preferred another man,
why shouldn’t I say so directly?

The kindness I always show you
is my best defence against your doubts.

Why do you allow yourself
this distrust in your heart?

You outrage me by listening to its voice.

Try to imagine how difficult it is
for a woman to confess to her inner love.

Modesty prohibits us
to put into words our inner thoughts.

When for his sake we pass those bounds,
how can doubt still be on his mind?

Is doubt not sinful
when at last we let love win?

Try as we might, in the end
we would find such doubt despicable.

You don’t deserve to be loved by a woman.

It is foolish of me to still hold onto you.

I consider this to be a vice of mine.

I ought to have rejected you long ago,
and give you reason for a just complaint.

You dupe me once again…

My weakness is too great…

Concealed
behind your sweet words lies deceit.

And yet, I must believe you
and fulfill my destiny.

I want to know for certain whether you
have the heart to stake my happiness.

No… You don’t care for me as you ought to.

Nothing can match the greatness of my love.

It rushes so violently
that it at times even does you harm.

If only you weren’t so lovable.

If only you were a poor, helpless woman.

If you had neither property nor rank,
then my love’s full devotion would show.

Then you’d know
that my love could amend everything.

I’d rejoice to see you owing
all your happiness to my love.

That’s a odd way to wish me well!

Heaven forbid your ever having cause.

Monsieur! It is an awful business!

What is it then?
-I think there is something wrong

I see.
- May I speak up?

You may and do it swiftly!

But someone is standing there!

Speak, will you?

We have to get away!

Why must we away?

We must leave.

I am asking why!

We must make off!

Tell my why, is something up?

Yes because we have to go.

This hour will be your worst
if you don’t say so clearly.

I sat by the kitchen
fire, who should appear?

This man in black,
his face was all severe.

He had a paper with scribbles over it:
The devil himself couldn’t read the bit.

It’s all about that case, without a doubt,
even though nobody could make it out.

What has this man and scrawl to do
with our sudden forced departure?

Well you see, Monsieur, less than an hour
after his visit came a friend of yours.

An hour later, your friend came
to look for you, at all costs.

He asked me to tell you… Because
he knows I am your faithful servant…

What is his name now?

Rogue! Never mind his name,
say what he told you!

Well, he’s a friend of yours,
and that’s enough.

He said you’re in danger,
you’d best get out,

you might get arrested
if you hang about.

That’s all he told?

No. He told me to give him paper,
pen, and ink.

And wrote a note for me to give you, to
explain to you and make the matter plain.

Hand it over! -What’s happened?

I hope the note will make things clear.
Well, come on, hurry up.

I must have left it at home.

I’ll have…!

Oh, there’s no need to shout.
You’d better go to sort things out.

It seems that Fate, in spite of all I do,
has sworn to interrupt my talk with you.

But help me baffle Fate, I pray,
and let me see you yet again today.

Ew.

No! My mind’s made up, I say.

But must this blow,
however hard it seem, compel you to…

No matter what say, nothing
can move me from my settled purpose.

There’s too much corruption today.
I want to leave men, get right away.

Honour, justice, decency, the laws,
are all combined against my adversary.

Everybody agreed my cause was just.

I rest assured
upon the justice of my cause.

With justice on my side, I lose my case!

Though my rights are clear as day!

A knave, whose story is a public scandal,
comes off triumphant in his treachery!

perverts the phoney smirk
he parades in town,

the truth,
turns justice upside down.

Then he compounds his wrongs
by prosecuting me.

Now, they’re passing
round an appalling book.

You can be prosecuted
if you take a look.

It should be banned,
it’s truly sickening.

And he’s telling everyone
I wrote the thing.

All traces of honour,
justice, and virtue are gone!

I’ve had enough of their conspiracies, so
now I will away from this den of thieves.

And since you live like wolves,
you’ll never see me more in all your days.

Look here…

No, you look here, don’t try,
you’ll never sway me.

Have you the cheek to say to my face
that you support what’s done in this place?

Oh, no.
You’re right to feel a sense of injury.

The world’s run by a selfish,
greedy coterie.

Selfishness rules man in every place,
they spite the authorities to their face.

But is this a reason to shun the world?

To seek refuge against evil in solitude?

This gives us opportunities in life
to put in practice our philosophy.

Has virtue not its best employment here?

If everyone was fair and virtuous,
most of our virtues would be superfluous.

Virtue will help us to bear
our grievances when the world is unfair.

Just as any heart of genuine virtue.

Thanks, you’re a mighty fluent talker,
and your reasoning is sublime.

Still, your words cannot heal my injury.

For my own good I must quit the world,
I can’t not control my tongue.

I’d have a hundred duels on my hands
because I can’t control my fierce temper.

Don’t argue, leave me here
to wait for Célimène.

In that way, the moment has come
for me to learn if she really loves me.

While we wait, let’s go to Eliante.

No, my heart’s too full of care.

You go on up, I’ll stay, to find relief,

in this dark corner,
alone, me and my grief.

Strange company that is,
and too austere to wait with!

I’ll bring Eliante here instead.

’Tis for you to say, if ties so dear,
shall make me wholly yours forever.

Make your mind up, I’m in your hands:
A lover must know exactly where he stands

And if my love has power to move you,
you should not hesitate to prove it to me.

But one thing you must, to pass my test,
that is to reject your other man, Alceste.

To sacrifice him and shut your door
against him from this day.

What is this clash of personalities?
You say yourself he’s got fine qualities.

There’s no need, of these explanations.
The point is, what are your own sentiments?

Choose the one you wish to keep.
My own decision only waits on yours.

Yes, Monsieur Oronte is right!
Choose: him or I?

His demand agrees with my desire.

I’m here, like him, to learn the truth:
I want to know. I need the final proof.

This has been too long,
it’s quite a strain.

Make your feelings plain.

Monsieur, not for anything would I disturb
your happy fortune by an ill-timed wooing.

Monsieur, not for anything, jealous
or not, would I stand in your way.

If she can possibly prefer your love…

If she can feel for you a scant leaning…

I swear she’ll have no more of my love.

I swear I’ll never set foot here again.

Madame, now it’s your turn to speak.

Madame, don’t be afraid to speak.

Tell us plainly what choice you have made.

You only need to tell us which you love.

How can you still be so hesitant?

How can you be uncertain?

Goodness, why insist?
It’s quite intolerable!

I must say,
you are both unreasonable.

I’ve got my views.
I’m not undecided, I know who to choose.

I’ll not hesitate and you’ll both find a
girl is quick to act if she knows her mind.

What holds me back is
that I’m rather proud:

It’s embarrassing to
say one loves out loud.

A girl doesn’t wear
her heart upon her sleeve:

This should be discussed
in private, I believe.

A heart wants to be understood
through secret revelation.

And nobody should demand
a thorough explanation.

Gentler intimations are sufficient
to tell a suitor of his ill success.

No! You must speak out.

I fear nothing from a frank avowal.
I consent.

Come on, don’t spare your audience.
You must give us the truth, no reticence.

You’re always trying to retain them all,
but no more dallying!

Make a clear declaration.

Or I shall take your silence for decision
and hold that it confirms my worst suspicion.

Your silence will be my rejection,
I’m versed in what to think,

I can expect the worst.

I thank you for your angry passion,
Monsieur, and I repeat those same words.

How you do weary me with your caprice!

What reason is there
in the thing you ask for?

I won’t put my feelings on display. Here’s
Eliante. Let’s hear what she has to say.

These two Messieurs are hounding me.
They’ve got together to upset me cruelly.

They’re insistent they must have their way:
They force me to choose one, right away.

I’ve got to turn one of
them down to his face,

reject his love,
and send him off in disgrace!

Now, tell me,
did you ever hear of such a thing?

You’d better not ask my counsel.

Perhaps I am the wrong one to appeal to.

I’m on the side of those
who speak their mind.

Madame, it is in vain you seek evasions.

Your shifts are ill supported here.

You must tip the scales to one side.

Your silence speaks volumes.

Just say one word.

I’ll understand your silence.

We’ve come to talk to you,
if you don’t mind.

There’s something bothering us, we find.

Ah, Messieurs,
we’re very pleased to find you here:

For you’re both implicated too,
as you’ll soon hear.

You must be quite surprised at seeing me:
The gentlemen insisted I came, you see.

Both called upon me, and complained to me
of certain doings that I could not credit.

I’ve got a high opinion of you, I’m
convinced you’re incapable of such crime.

I’ve denied the evidence of my own eyes.

We may disagree,
but old friendship I prize.

I’d come and keep them company,

to see you clear yourself
of vicious calumny.

We think it’ll be fun
to see you justify the things you’ve done.

This letter to Clitandre,
was it written by you?

And did you send Arcaste
this tender letter too?

Her writing is familiar.

You’ve both had friendly notes from her:
You know the sort she tends to write.

But this one’s well worth reading,
it’s a sheer delight.

You are an odd creature
to blame me for being merry.

How can you reproach me for being
most cheerful when I’m not with you?

It’s so unfair. Unless you’ll beg my pardon
for your wrong, I’ll never forgive you.

As for that great galumphing Vicomte…
Too bad he isn’t here.

As for that great galumphing Vicomte,

who heads your list of complaints,
I can’t stand the man.

Ever since I saw him spend
three-quarters of an hour

spitting in a well to make ripples,
I’ve never had a high opinion of him.

And as for the little Marquis…
She’s speaking of yours truly, gentlemen.

As for the little Marquis, who
insisted on keeping me company yesterday,

he’s the puniest fellow imaginable.

He’s one of those deserving people

who have nothing but a cloak
and sword to their name.

As for the man with the black ribbons...
Oh, this is for you Monsieur Alceste!

As for the man with the black ribbons,

he can be quite amusing,
with his rudeness and his sulks.

But time and time again,
I find him a crashing bore.

And as for the man with the sonnets…

Yes, now a present for you Monsieur Oronte.

And as for the man with the sonnets,
who wants to be a writer,

I can’t be bothered to listen
to what he says.

He’s equally tedious in prose and verse.

Believe me, I don’t always enjoy myself
as much as you think.

I miss you more than I care to admit.

All those parties hey drag me off to.

Happy moments seem twice as delightful
in the company of people you love.

My turn now.

You go on about Clitandre,
who simpers so sweetly,

but he’s the last
man I could care for.

He’s foolish enough to believe I like him.

And you’re foolish
to think I don’t love you.

Show some sense, and try to copy him.

Come and see me as often as you can,

to help me bear it
when he insists on hanging around.

There is a noble type
of character set forth!

You know its name perhaps, dear Madame.

Enough! We’ll both of us be proud to show
this portrait of your heart, wherever we go.

You’ll agree there’s plenty I could say.
You’re not worth my getting angry, anyway.

You’ll soon find that even little marquis
has love in higher places, wait and see!

I’m horrified, words stick in my throat.

What! After all those flattering letters
that you wrote.

Your vows, it seems you’ve got the face
to offer yourself up to all the human race?

I was too much the dupe, I’m so no longer.

I owe you much for teaching me this.

My heart’s my own again,
the future’s looking bright.

You’ve lost me now, which serves you right.

I won’t stand in your way, Monsieur.

Now you may conclude your match with her.

Oh, this is the most blackest deed
I’ve ever heard!

I’m so upset, I must speak a word.

Did ever anybody see the like?

Not that I care about those others.

It’s Monsieur here,
who loved you so devotedly.

An honourable man, full of integrity…

Madame, please allow me
to manage my affairs myself.

I don’t need your help,
so let the matter rest.

However warmly you espouse my cause,
I’m in no way to pay your zeal in kind.

I wouldn’t turn to you,
despite your charms,

if I wanted revenge
in someone else’s arms.

You cannot take that tone!

You think I’m desperate
to have you for my own?

I must say you are mighty vain if you can
lay that flattering unction to your soul.

I find that used goods are lacking charm,
I won’t feast upon the leavings of Madame.

Pray undeceive yourself, don’t be so proud.
People like me are not for such as you.

My advice to you: carry on with her.
Would be quite a wedding and make a stir.

I was quiet through all I heard.

It made quite an impression.

I’ve kept silent,
in spite of what I’ve heard.

So have I held back long enough now?
Have I got a right to speak?

Yes…

You can say what you like.

I’m a wicked person, rotten and immoral.

Blame me as you please.

You have every right.

I admit I’ve wronged.

I know I am guilty.

I shall not attempt to put you off
with any excuse.

I didn’t care for their fury, it’s true,
but I agree that I’ve been horrible to you.

And your anger beyond all doubt is just.

I know I’ve lost your high esteem.

It must really appear that you have
good cause to hate and despise me.

So hate me, if you want.

Oh, if I could only hate.

I can’t dislodge my former tenderness.

I should give
into my hatred’s bitter desire.

But still I can’t control
my ever-loving heart.

You see how far an abject love can go.
See how my love has made me weak.

But there’s more you must know,
to see how far my weakness goes.

Don’t trust human nature if you can:
At heart, the wisest is but a man.

You minx, yes,
I’m ready to forget the whole.

To pardon all your crimes,
forgive them in my soul.

It’s only frailty, swear it’s the truth,
Say it’s the fault of your youth.

But, in return, I want you to agree
To follow me, and leave society.

Which I’ve sworn forever to shun.

And be resolved to follow me
my lonely paths.

Share this life I vow to live,

It’s only so you can repair
the mischief of your letters.

And even after scandal so abhorrent
to noble natures, I may love you still.

Me, at my age? Do you think I could survive
away from town, in some hole, buried alive?

If your care equals mine, what matters all
the world beside? Will you not be content?

But solitude has terrors
for a soul of twenty years.

I don’t feel I’m mature or serious enough
to cope with leaving, it’d be much too tough.

If my hand can satisfy your wishes,

I’ll bring myself to suffer
such a bond of marriage…

No! My heart detests you now,
I’ve nothing but despise to give you.

If you can’t find your all in me,
as I my all in you, go, I want nothing!

Go away, I know you no more!

This last sore offence finally
sets me free from your base slavery!

A hundred virtues crown your beauty.
In you alone I’ve found sincerity.

And long I’ve felt for you a deep regard,
but let me still esteem you thus.

I’ve watched you from afar,
but now, things must stay the way they are.

I’m too unworthy, I begin to see
heaven did not create me fit for marriage.

I mean, how could I ask someone superior
to love the cast-off of a mere inferior?

Furthermore… - You’re right.

I completely agree, I pray.

I’m at no loss to give my hand away.

And here’s your friend,
to seek no further.

He, if I should ask him,
might accept of me.

There’s nothing I want more.

I’d lay down my life
to your honour if need be.

May you both be happy as the day is long.

I hope your feelings for each other
stay so strong!

Betrayed on all sides…

Overwhelmed with wrong…

I’ll leave this den of thieves
vice reigns among…

And find some faraway desert, if I can…

Where one is free to be an honest man.

Come, Madame, let us use our utmost art
to change this savage purpose of his heart.

TV camera

TV broadcast