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Tartuffe
Jean-Baptiste Poquelin Molière

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DORINE 
Go on.  Don't believe him!  It's too bizarre!
He's joking.

ORGON 
I say . . .

DORINE         
No, you've gone too far,
And no one believes you.

ORGON                   
Damn you, you shrew . . .

DORINE 
Well, I believe you then; the worse for you.
What?  Monsieur, can you pose as one who's sage,
Gravely stroking your bearded visage?
And still be fool enough to wish . . .

ORGON                              
Hear me!
I have given you too much liberty,
And it no longer gives me any pleasure.

DORINE 
Monsieur, please.  Keep your anger within measure.
Are you mocking us with your silly plot?
Your daughter is no match for a bigot;
He has other schemes to worry about.
And what would you gain if she wed this lout?
With your wealth, what benefit would it bring
To pick a bum . . .
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