Amphitryon
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Moliere >> Amphitryon
ALC. In truth, Amphitryon, you must be jesting, to talk thus; I
should be afraid anyone who heard you would think you were not sane.
JUP. There is more reason in this discourse, Alcmene, than you
think. But a longer stay here would render me guilty, and time
presses for my return to port. Adieu. The stern call of duty tears
me away from you for a time; but, lovely Alcmene, I beseech you at
least to think of the lover when you see the husband.
ALC. I do not separate what the Gods unite: both husband and lover
are very precious to me.
CLE. O Heaven! How delightful are the caresses of an ardently
cherished husband! How far my poor husband is from all this tenderness!
MERC. I must tell Night she has but to furl all her sails; the Sun
may now arise from his bed and put out the stars.
SCENE IV
CLEANTHIS, MERCURY (Mercury turns to go away)
CLE. So? Is it thus you quit me?
MERC. What would you have? Do you wish me not to do my duty, and
follow in Amphitryon's footsteps?
CLE. To separate from me so rudely as this, you villain!
MERC. It is a fine subject to make a fuss about! We have still
plenty of time to live together!
CLE. But to go in such a churlish manner, without saying a single
kind word to cheer me!
MERC. Where the deuce shall I dig up silly compliments? Fifteen
years of married life exhaust nonsense; we said all we had to say to
each other a long time ago.
CLE. Look at Amphitryon, you rascal; see how his ardour burns for
Alcmene; and then blush for the little passion that you show your wife.
MERC. But, gracious me! Cleanthis, they are still lovers. There
comes a certain age when all this passes away; what suits them well
in these early days would look ridiculous in us, old married people.
It would be it fine sight to see us embracing each other, and saying
sweet nothings!
CLE. Oh! You perfidious wretch, must I give up hope that a heart sighs for me?
MERC. No, I should be sorry to say that; but I have too long a beard
to dare to sigh; I should make you die of laughter.
CLE. You brute, do you deserve the good fortune of having a virtuous
woman for your wife?
MERC. Good Heavens! You are but too virtuous; this fine virtue is
not worth anything to me. Do not be quite so honest a woman, and
don't bother me so much.
CLE. What? Do you blame me for being too honest?
MERC. A woman's gentleness is what charms me most: your virtue makes
a clatter that never ceases to deafen me.
CLE. You care for hearts full of false tenderness, for those women
with the laudable and fine talent of knowing how to smother their
husbands with caresses in order to make them oblivious of the
existence of lovers.
MERC. Well! Shall I tell you what I think? An imaginary evil
concerns fools only; my device should be: 'Less honour and more peace.'
CLE. Would you, without any repugnance, suffer me openly to love a gallant?
MERC. Yes, if I were no longer worried by your tongue, and if it
changed your temper and your goings-on. I prefer a convenient vice,
to a fatiguing virtue. Adieu, Cleanthis, my dear soul; I must follow
Amphitryon. (He goes away.)
CLE Why has not my heart sufficient resolution to punish this
infamous scoundrel? Ah, how it maddens me, now, that I am an honest woman!
END OF THE FIRST ACT
ACT Il
SCENE I
AMPHITRYON, SOSIE
AMPH. Come here, you rascal, come here. Do you know, Master Villain,
that your talk is sufficient to cause me to knock you down, and that
my wrath waits only for a stick to thrash you as I intend?
SOS. If you take it in that way, Monsieur, I have nothing more to
say; you will be always in the right.
AMPH. So? You scoundrel, you wish to impose upon me as truths tales
which I know to be extravagantly far-fetched?
SOS. No; I am the servant, and you are the master; it shall not be
otherwise than you wish it, Monsieur.
AMPH. Come, I will choke down the anger that inflames me, and hear
all you have to say about your mission. I must unravel this
confusion before I see my wife. Collect your senses, think well over
what you say, and answer each question word for word.
SOS. But, lest I make a mistake, tell me, I beseech you, beforehand,
in what way it would please you to have this affair healed. Shall I
speak, Monsieur, according to my conscience, or as usual when near
the great? Shall I tell the truth or use a certain complaisance?
AMPH. No; I only wish you to give me a perfectly unvarnished account.
SOS. Good. That is enough; leave it to me; you have, but to interrogate me.
AMPH. Upon the order which I lately gave you . . .
SOS. I set forth under skies veiled in black crape, swearing
bitterly against you for this wretched martyrdom, and cursing twenty
times the order of which you speak.
AMPH. What do you mean, you villain?
SOS. You have only to speak, Monsieur, and I shall lie, if you desire it.
AMPH. That is how a valet shows his zeal for us. Never mind. What
happened to you on the way?
SOS. I had a mortal fright at the least thing I met.
AMPH. Poltroon!
SOS. Nature has her caprices in forming us; she gives us differing
inclinations; some find a thousand delights in exposing themselves;
I find them in taking care of myself.
AMPH. When you arrived at the house...?
SOS. When I reached the door, I wished to rehearse to myself for a
short time, in what tone and in what manner I should give a glorious
account of the battle.
AMPH. What followed?
SOS. Some one came to annoy and trouble me.
AMPH. Who was he?
SOS. Sosie; another I, jealous of your orders, whom you sent to
Alcmene from the port, and who has as full knowledge of our secrets
as I who am speaking to you.
AMPH. What nonsense!
SOS. No, Monsieur, it is the simple truth: this I was at your house
sooner than I; and, I swear to you, I was there before I had arrived.
AMPH. Pray, where does all this cursed nonsense come from? Is it a
dream? Is it drunkenness? Mind-wandering? Or a sorry joke?
SOS. No, it is the thing as it is, and by no means an idle tale. I
am a man of honour, I give you my word, and you must please believe
it. I tell you, believing I was but one Sosie, I found myself two at
your house; and of these two I's, piqued with jealousy, one is at
the house, and the other is with you; the I who is here, tired out,
found the other I fresh, jolly and active, having no other anxiety
than to fight and break bones.
AMPH. I confess I must be of a very placid temper, very peaceable,
very gentle, to permit a valet to entertain me with such nonsense!
SOS. If you become angry, no more conference between us: you know
all will be over at once.
AMPH. No; I will listen to you without being carried away; I
promised it. But tell me in good earnest, is there any shadow of
likelihood in this new mystery which you have just told me?
SOS. No; you are right, the matter must appear to everyone past
credit. It is a fact past understanding, an extravagant, ridiculous,
far-fetched tale: it shocks common sense; but it is none the less a fact.
AMPH. How can anyone believe it, unless he has taken leave of his senses?
SOS. I myself did not believe it without extreme difficulty: I
thought I was losing my senses when I saw myself two, and, for a
long time, I treated my other self as an impostor: but he compelled
me in the end to recognise myself; I saw it was I, without any
trickery; from head to foot he is like me-handsome, a noble air,
well built, charming manners; in fact, two peas do not resemble each
other more; were it not that his hands are a little too heavy, I
should be perfectly satisfied.
AMPH. I had need exhort myself to patience! But did you not in the
end go into the house?
SOS. Good, go in! Ah! In what fashion? Have I never wished to listen
to reason? Did I not forbid myself to enter our door?
AMPH. In what way?
SOS. With a stick, my back still aches from it.
AMPH. You have been thrashed?
SOS. Truly.
AMPH. And by whom?
SOS. Myself.
AMPH. You have thrashed yourself?
SOS. Yes, I; not the I who is here, but the I from the house, who
whacks soundly.
AMPH. Heaven confound you for talking to me like this!
SOS. I am not joking; the I whom I have just met has great
advantages over the I who speaks to you. He has a strong arm and
great courage; I have had proofs of both; this devil of an I has
licked me soundly; he is a fellow who can do wonders.
AMPH. Let us, cease this. Have you seen my wife?
SOS. No.
AMPH. Why not?
SOS. For a sufficiently strong reason.
AMPH. Who hindered you, scoundrel? Explain yourself.
SOS. Must I repeat the same thing twenty times? I, I tell you, this
I who is more robust than I, this I who took possession of the door
by force, this I who made me slope off, this I who wishes to be the
only I, this I who is jealous of myself, this valiant I, whose anger
made itself known to this poltroon of an I, in fact, this I who is
at our house, this I who has shown himself to be my master, this I
who has racked me with pain.
AMPH. His brain must be addled by having had too much to drink this morning.
SOS. May I be hanged if I have had anything to drink but water: I
take my oath on it.
AMPH. Then your senses must have been fast asleep: some silly dream
has shown you all these fairy tales and confused mysteries which you
wish me to take for truths.
SOS. That is just as far away from the truth. I have not slept, and
I do not even feel inclined that way. I am speaking to you wide-
awake; I was wide awake this morning, upon my life! And the other
Sosie was also wide-awake, when he drubbed me so well.
AMPH. Follow me; I order you to be silent. You tire my brain too
much; I must be an out-and-out fool to have the patience to listen
to the nonsense a valet has to say.
SOS. All talk is nonsense that comes from a man who is unknown. If a
great man were to say it, it would be exquisite language.
AMPH. Let us go in without waiting any longer. But here comes
Alcmene clothed in all her charms. Doubtless she does not expect me
so soon, and my arrival will surprise her.
SCENE II
ALCMENE, CLEANTHIS, AMPHITRYON, SOSIE
ALC. Come, Cleanthis, let us attend the Gods, pay them our homage
for my husband's sake, and thank them for the glorious success, of
which Thebes, by his arm, reaps the advantage. O ye Gods!
AMPH. Heaven grant that victorious Amphitryon may be met with
renewed pleasure by his wife: that this day may be favourable to my
passion, and restore you to me with the same heart: may I again find
as much love as my heart brings to you!
ALC. Ah! Have you returned so soon.
AMPH. Really, you give me but a sorry proof of your love; this, 'Ah!
have you returned so soon?' is scarcely the language a heart really
inflamed with love would use on such an occasion as this. I dared to
flatter myself I had remained away from you too long. The
expectation of an ardently longed for return makes each moment seem
of great length; the absence of what we love, however brief it may
be, is always too long.
ALC. I do not see . . .
AMPH. No, Alcmene, time is measured in such cases by one's
impatience; you count the moments of absence as one who does not
love. When we really love, the slightest separation kills us; the
one whom we love to see never returns too soon. I confess that the
love I bear you has cause to complain of your reception; I expected
different expressions of joy and tenderness from your heart.
ALC. I cannot understand on what you found the words you have just
uttered; if you complain of me, upon my word I do not know what
would satisfy you. I think I showed a sufficiently tender joy last
night, at your happy return; my heart responded by every means you
could wish to the claims of your affection.
AMPH. In what way?
ALC. Did I not clearly show the sudden transports of a perfect joy?
Could a heart's feelings be better expressed at the return of a
husband who is tenderly loved?
AMPH. What do you say?
ALC. That even your affection showed an inconceivable joy at my
reception; and that, as you left me at break of day, I do not see
that my surprise at this sudden return is so guilty.
AMPH. Did you, in a dream last night, Alcmene, anticipate in idea
the reality of my hastened return; and having, perhaps, treated me
kindly in your sleep, does your heart think it has fully acquitted
itself of its duty to my passion?
ALC. Has some malignant vapour in your mind, Amphitryon, clouded the
truth of last night's return? Does your heart pretend to take away
from me the credit of all the gentle affection I showed you in my
tender welcome?
AMPH. This vapour you attribute to me seems to me somewhat strange.
ALC. It is in return for the dream which you attribute to me.
AMPH. Unless it is because of a dream, what you have just now told
me is entirely inexcusable.
ALC. Unless it is a vapour which troubles your mind, what I have
heard from you cannot be justified.
AMPH. Let us leave this vapour for a moment, Alcmene.
ALC. Let us leave this dream for a moment, Amphitryon.
AMPH. One cannot jest on the subject in question without being carried too far.
ALC. Undoubtedly; and, as a sure proof of it, I begin to feel somewhat uneasy.
AMPH. Is it thus you wish to try to make amends for the welcome of
which I complain?
ALC. Do you desire to try to amuse yourself by this feint?
AMPH. For Heaven's, sake, I beseech you, Alcmene! Let us cease this,
and talk seriously.
ALC. You carry your amusement too far, Amphitryon: let there be an
end to this raillery.
AMPH. Do you really dare maintain to my face that I was seen here
before this hour?
ALC. Have you really the assurance to deny that you came here early
yesterday evening?
AMPH. I! I came yesterday?
ALC. Certainly; and you went away again before dawn.
AMPH. Heavens! Was ever such a debate as this heard before? Who
would not be astonished at all this? Sosie?
SOS. She needs six grains of hellebore, Monsieur; her brain is turned.
AMPH. Alcmene, in the name of all the Gods, this discourse will have
a strange ending! Recollect your senses a little better, and think
what you say.
ALC. I am indeed thinking seriously; all in the house saw your
arrival. I am ignorant what motive makes you act thus; but, if the
thing were in need of proof, if it were true that such a thing could
be forgotten, from whom, but from you, could I have heard the news
of the latest of all your battles, and of the five diamonds worn by
Pterelas, who was plunged into eternal night by the strength of your
arm? Could one wish for surer testimony?
AMPH. What? I have already given you the cluster of diamonds which I
had for my share, and intended for you?
ALC. Assuredly. It is not difficult to convince you thoroughly on that point.
AMPH. How?
ALC. Here it is.
AMPH. Sosie!
SOS. She is jesting: I have it here; Monsieur, the feint is useless.
AMPH. The seal is whole.
ALC. Is it a vision? There. Will you think this proof strong enough?
AMPH. Ah Heaven! O just Heaven!
ALC. Come, Amphitryon, you are joking in acting thus: you ought to
be ashamed of it.
AMPH. Break this seal, quickly.
SOS. (Having opened the casket.) Upon my word, the casket is empty.
It must have been taken out by witchcraft, or else it came by itself
a guide, to her whom it knew it was intended to adorn.
AMPH. O Gods, whose power governs all things, what is this
adventure? What can I augur from it that does not clutch at my heart?
SOS. If she speaks the truth, we have the same lot, and, like me,
Monsieur, you are double.
AMPH. Be silent.
ALC. Why are you so surprised? What causes all this confusion?
AMPH. O Heaven! What strange perplexity! I see incidents which
surpass Nature, and my honour fears an adventure which my mind does
not understand.
ALC. Do you still wish to deny your hasty return, when you have this
sensible proof of it?
AMPH. No; but if it be possible, deign to tell me what passed at this return.
ALC. Since you ask an account of the matter, you still say it was not you?
AMPH. Pardon me; but I have a certain reason which makes me ask you
to give us this account.
ALC. Have the important cares which perhaps engross you made you so
quickly lose the remembrance of it?
AMPH. Perhaps; but, in short, you would please me by telling me the
whole story.
ALC. The story is not long. I advanced towards you full of a
delighted surprise; I embraced you tenderly, and showed my joy more
than once.
AMPH. (to himself.) Ah! I could have done without so sweet a welcome.
ALC. You first made me this valuable gift, which you destined for me
from the spoils of the conquered. Your heart vehemently unfolded to
me all the violence of its love, and the annoying duties which had
kept it enchained, the happiness of seeing me again, the torments of
absence, all the care which your impatience to return had given you;
never has your love, on similar occasions, seemed to me so tender
and so passionate.
AMPH. (to himself.) Can one be more cruelly tortured?
ALC. As you may well believe, these transports and this tenderness
did not displease me; if I must confess it, Amphitryon, my heart
found a thousand charms in them.
AMPH. What followed, pray?
ALC. We interrupted each other with a thousand questions concerning
each other. The table was laid. We supped together by ourselves;
and, supper over, we went to bed.
AMPH. Together?
ALC. Assuredly. What a question?
AMPH. Ah; this is the most cruel stroke of all; my jealous passion
trembled to assure itself of this.
ALC. Why do you blush so deeply at a word? Have I done something
wrong in going to bed with you?
AMPH. No, to my great misery, it was not I; whoever says I was here
yesterday, tells, of all falsehoods, the most horrible.
ALC. Amphitryon!
AMPH. Perfidious woman!
ALC. Ah! What madness is this!
AMPH. No, no; no more sweetness, no more respect; this rebuff puts
an end to all my constancy; at this ghastly moment, my heart
breathes only fury and, vengeance.
ALC. On whom then would you be avenged? What want of faith in me
makes you treat me now as a criminal?
AMPH. I do not know, but it was not I; this despair makes me capable
of anything.
ALC. Away unworthy husband, the deed speaks for itself, the
imposture is frightful. It is too great an insult to accuse me of
infidelity. If these confused transports mean that you seek a
pretext to break the nuptial bonds which hold me enchained to you,
all these pretences are superfluous, for I am determined that this
day all our ties shall be broken.
AMPH. After the unworthy affront, which I now learn has been done
me, that is indeed what you must prepare yourself for; it is the
least that can be expected; and things may not perhaps remain there.
The dishonour is sure; my misery is made plain to me; and my pride
in vain would hide it from me. The details are still not clear: My
anger is just and I claim to be enlightened. Your brother can
positively avouch that I did not leave him until this morning: I
will go and seek him, in order that I may confound you about the
return falsely imputed to me. Afterwards, we will penetrate to the
bottom of a mystery unheard of until now; and, in the fury of a
righteous anger, woe to him who has betrayed me!
SOS. Monsieur . . .
AMPH. Do not accompany me, but remain here for me.
CLE. Must I . . .?
ALC. I cannot hear anything: leave me alone: do not follow me.
SCENE III
CLEANTHIS, SOSIE
CLE. Something must have turned his brain; but the brother will soon
finish this quarrel.
SOS. This is a very sharp blow for my master; his fate is cruel. I
greatly fear something coming for myself. I will go softly in enlightening her.
CLE. Let me see whether he will so much as speak to me! I will not
reveal anything.
SOS. These things are often annoying when one knows about them: I
hesitate to ask her. Would it not be better not to risk anything,
and to ignore what may have happened? Yet, at all hazard, I must
see. I cannot help myself. Curiosity concerning things which one
would rather not know is a human weakness. Heaven preserve you, Cleanthis!
CLE. Ah! Ah! You dare to come near me, you villain!
SOS. Good Heavens! What is the matter with you? You are always in a
temper, and become angry about nothing!
CLE. What do you call about nothing? Speak out.
SOS. I call about nothing what is called about nothing in verse as
well as in prose; and nothing, as you well know, means to say
nothing, or very little.
CLE. I do not know what keeps me from scratching your eyes out,
infamous rascal, to teach you how far the anger of a woman can go.
SOS. Hullo! What do you mean by this furious rage?
CLE. Then you call that nothing, perhaps, which you have done to me?
SOS. What was that?
CLE. So? You feign to be innocent? Do you follow the example of your
master and say you did not return here?
SOS. No, I know the contrary too well; but I will be frank with you.
We had drunk some wretched wine, which might have made me forget what I did.
CLE. You think, perhaps, to excuse yourself by this trick, . . .
SOS. No, in truth you may believe me. I was in such a condition that
I may have done things I should regret; I do not remember what they were.
CLE. You do not even remember the manner in which you thought fit to
treat me when you came from the port?
SOS. Not at all. You had better tell me all about it; I am just and
sincere, and would condemn myself were I wrong.
CLE.Well? Amphitryon having warned me of your return, I sat up until
you came; but I never saw such coldness: I had myself to remind you
that you had a wife; and, when I wanted to kiss you, you, turned
away your head, and gave me your ear.
SOS. Good.
CLE. What do you mean by good?
SOS. Good gracious! You do not know why I talk like this, Cleanthis:
I had been eating garlic, and, like a well-bred man, just turned my
breath away from you.
CLE. I showed you every possible tenderness; but you were as deaf as
a post to everything I said; never a kind word passed your lips.
SOS. Courage!
CLE. In short, my flame bad to burn alone, its chaste ardour did not
find anything in you but ice; you were the culprit in a return that
might have been so different: you even went so far as to refuse to
take your place in bed, which the laws of wedlock oblige you to occupy.
SOS. What? Did I not go to bed?
CLE. No, you coward.
SOS. Is it possible?
CLE. It is but too true, you rascal. Of all affronts this affront is
the greatest; and, instead of your heart repairing its wrong this
morning, you left me with words full of undisguised contempt.
SOS. Vivat Sosie!
CLE. Eh, what? Has my complaint had this effect? You laugh at your
fine goings on?
SOS. How pleased I am with myself!
CLE. Is this the way to express your grief at such an outrage?
SOS. I should never have believed I could be so prudent.
CLE. Instead of condemning yourself for such a perfidious trick, you
rejoice at it to my face!
SOS. Good gracious! Gently, gently! If I appear pleased, you must
believe that I have a very strong private reason for it; without
thinking of it, I never did better than in using you in such a manner as I did.
CLE. Are you laughing at me, you villain?
SOS. No, I am speaking openly to you. I was in a wretched state. I
had a certain load, which your words have lifted from my soul. I was
very apprehensive, and feared that I had played the fool with you.
CLE. What is this fear? Come, let us know what you mean.
SOS. The doctors say that, when one is drunk, one should abstain
from one's wife, for, in that condition we can only have children
who are dull, and who cannot live. Think, if my heart had not armed
itself with coldness, what troubles might have followed!
CLE. I do not care a fig for doctors, with their insipid reasonings.
Let them rule those who are sick without wishing to govern healthy
people. They meddle with too many affairs when they seek to rein in
our chaste desires; in addition to the dog days, and their strict
rules, they tell us a hundred ridiculous stories into the bargain.
SOS. Gently.
CLE. No; I maintain theirs is a worthless conclusion: those reasons
come from idiotic brains. Neither wine nor time ought to prevent the
duties of conjugal love from being fulfilled; doctors are donkeys.
SOS. I entreat you, moderate your anger against them; they are
honest people, whatever the world may say of them.
CLE. Things are not what you think them; you can shut up; your
excuse will not go down; and, sooner or later, I tell you plainly, I
will avenge myself for the contempt you show me every day. I
remember everything you said just now, and I shall try to make use
of the liberty you gave me, You faithless, cowardly husband.
SOS. What?
CLE. You told me just now, you villain, that you would heartily
agree to my loving another.
SOS. Ah! In that matter I was wrong. I retract; my honour is at
stake. You had better beware you do not give way to that sentiment.
CLE. Nevertheless if some time I can make up my mind to the thing . . .
SOS. Just stop talking for the present. Amphitryon is coming back,
and he seems pleased.
SCENE IV
JUPITER, CLEANTHIS, SOSIE
JUP. I shall take this opportunity of appearing to Alcmene to banish
the sorrow in which she wishes to indulge, and, under the pretence
that brings me here, I will gratify my passion with the delight of a
reconciliation with her. Alcmene is upstairs, is she not?