Мольер (Жан-Батист Поклен)
Sganarelle, or, the Self-Deceived Husband
SCENE II. – CELIA, CELIA'S MAID
MAID. What, madam! you refuse positively what so many other people would accept with all their heart! You answer with tears a proposal for marriage, and delay for a long time to say a "yes" so agreeable to hear! Alas! why does some one not wish to marry me? I should not need much entreaty: and so far from thinking it any trouble to say "yes" once, believe me I would very quickly say it a dozen times. Your brother's tutor was quite right when, as we were talking about worldly affairs, he said, "A woman is like the ivy, which grows luxuriantly whilst it clings closely to the tree, but never thrives if it be separated from it." Nothing can be truer, my dear mistress, and I, miserable sinner, have found it out. Heaven rest the soul of my poor Martin! when he was alive my complexion was like a cherub's; I was plump and comely, my eyes sparkled brightly, and I felt happy: now I am doleful. In those pleasant times, which flew away like lightning, I went to bed, in the very depth of winter, without kindling a fire in the room; even airing the sheets appeared then to me ridiculous; but now I shiver even in the dogdays. In short, madam, believe me there is nothing like having a husband at night by one's side, were it only for the pleasure of hearing him say, "God bless you," whenever one may happen to sneeze.
CEL. Can you advise me to act so wickedly as to forsake Lelio and take up with this ill-shaped fellow?
MAID. Upon my word, your Lelio is a mere fool to stay away the very time he is wanted; his long absence makes me very much suspect some change in his affection.
GEL. (showing her the portrait of Lelio). Oh! do not distress me by such dire forebodings! Observe carefully the features of his face; they swear to me an eternal affection; after all, I would not willingly believe them to tell a falsehood, but that he is such as he is here limned by art, and that his affection for me remains unchanged.
MAID. To be sure, these features denote a deserving lover, whom you are right to regard tenderly.
CEL. And yet I must – Ah! support me.
(She lets fall the portrait of Lelio.)
MAID. Madam, what is the cause of… Heavens! she swoons. Oh! make haste! help! help!
SCENE III. – CELIA, SGANARELLE, CELIA'S MAID
SGAN. What is the matter? I am here.
MAID. My lady is dying.
SGAN. What! is that all? You made such a noise, I thought the world was at an end. Let us see, however. Madam, are you dead? Um! she does not say one word.
MAID. I shall fetch somebody to carry her in; be kind enough to hold her so long.
SCENE IV. – CELIA, SGANARELLE, SGANARELLE'S WIFE
SGAN. (passing his hand over Celia's bosom). She is cold all over, and I do not know what to say to it. Let me draw a little nearer and try whether she breathes or not. Upon my word, I cannot tell, but I perceive still some signs of life.
SGAN.'S WIFE, (looking from the window). Ah! what do I see? My husband, holding in his arms… But I shall go down; he is false to me most certainly; I should be glad to catch him.
SGAN. She must be assisted very quickly; she would certainly be in the wrong to die. A journey to another world is very foolish, so long as a body is able to stay in this. (He carries her in).
SCENE V. – SGANARELLE'S WIFE, alone
He has suddenly left this spot; his flight has disappointed my curiosity; but I doubt no longer that he is unfaithful to me; the little I have seen sufficiently proves it. I am no longer astonished that he returns my modest love with strange coldness; the ungrateful wretch reserves his caresses for others, and starves me in order to feed their pleasures. This is the common way of husbands; they become indifferent to what is lawful; at the beginning they do wonders, and seem to be very much in love with us, but the wretches soon grow weary of our fondness, and carry elsewhere what is due to us alone. Oh! how it vexes me that the law will not permit us to change our husband as we do our linen! That would be very convenient; and, troth, I know some women whom it would please as much as myself. (Taking up the picture which Celia had let fall). But what a pretty thing has fortune sent me here; the enamel of it is most beautiful, the workmanship delightful; let me open it?
SCENE VI. – SGANARELLE, SGANARELLE'S WIFE
SGAN. (Thinking himself alone). They thought her dead, but it was nothing at all! She is already recovering and nearly well again. But I see my wife.
SGAN.'S WIFE. (Thinking herself alone). O Heaven! It is a miniature, a fine picture of a handsome man.
SGAN. (Aside, and looking over his wife's shoulder). What is this she looks at so closely? This picture bodes my honour little good. A very ugly feeling of jealousy begins to creep over me.
SGAN.'S WIFE. (Not seeing her husband). I never saw anything more beautiful in my life! The workmanship is even of greater value than the gold! Oh, how sweet it smells!
SGAN. (Aside). The deuce! She kisses it! I am victimized!
SGAN.'S WIFE. (Continues her Monologue.) I think it must be a charming thing to have such a fine-looking man for a sweetheart; if he should urge his suit very much the temptation would be great. Alas! why have I not a handsome man like this for my husband instead of my booby, my clod-hopper…?
SGAN. (Snatching the portrait from her). What, hussey! have I caught you in the very act, slandering your honourable and darling husband? According to you, most worthy spouse, and everything well considered, the husband is not as good as the wife? In Beelzebub's name (and may he fly away with you), what better match could you wish for? Is there any fault to be found with me? It seems that this shape, this air, which everybody admires; this face, so fit to inspire love, for which a thousand fair ones sigh both night and day; in a word, my own delightful self, by no manner of means pleases you. Moreover, to satisfy your ravenous appetite you add to the husband the relish of a gallant.
SGAN.'S WIFE. I see plainly the drift of your jocular remarks, though you do not clearly express yourself. You expect by these means…
SGAN. Try to impose upon others, not upon me, I pray you. The fact is evident; I have in my hands a convincing proof of the injury I complain of.
SGAN.'S WIFE. I am already too angry, and do not wish you to make me more so by any fresh insult. Hark ye, do not imagine that you shall keep this pretty thing; consider…
SGAN. I am seriously considering whether I shall break your neck. I wish I had but the original of this portrait in my power as much as I have the copy.
SGAN.'S WIFE. Why?
SGAN. For nothing at all, dear, sweet object of my love! I am very wrong to speak out; my forehead ought to thank you for many favours received. (Looking at the portrait of Lelio). There he is, your darling, the pretty bed-fellow, the wicked incentive of your secret flame, the merry blade with whom…
SGAN.'S WIFE. With whom? Go on.
SGAN. With whom, I say… I am almost bursting with vexation.
[Footnote: The original has: "j'en creve d'ennuis." The French word ennui, which now only means weariness of mind, signified formerly injury, and the vexation or hatred caused thereby; something like the English word "annoy," as in Shakespeare's Richard III., v. 3: "Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy; Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy."]
SGAN.'S WIFE. What does the drunken sot mean by all this?
SGAN. You know but too well, Mrs. Impudence. No one will call me any longer Sganarelle, but every one will give me the title of Signor Cornutus; my honor is gone, but to reward you, who took it from me, I shall at the very least break you an arm or a couple of ribs.
SGAN.'S WIFE. How dare you talk to me thus?
SGAN. How dare you play me these devilish pranks?
SGAN.'S WIFE. What devilish pranks? Say what you mean.
SGAN. Oh! It is not worth complaining of. A stag's top-knot on my head is indeed a very pretty ornament for everybody to come and look at.
SGAN.'S WIFE. After you have insulted your wife so grossly as to excite her thirst for vengeance, you stupidly imagine you can prevent the effects of it by pretending to be angry? Such insolence was never before known on the like occasion. The offender is the person who begins the quarrel.
SGAN. Oh! what a shameless creature! To see the confident behaviour of this woman, would not any one suppose her to be very virtuous?
SGAN.'S WIFE. Away, go about your business, wheedle your mistresses, tell them you love them, caress them even, but give me back my picture, and do not make a jest of me. (She snatches the picture from him and runs away).
SGAN. So you think to escape me; but I shall get hold of it again in spite of you.
