t all to split us in two?
Tartuffe. There is no pleasure in Heaven above
Sweeter than such words from the lips I love;
Their honeyed sound flows richly through my senses
With the sweetness of the purest essences.
The pleasure of pleasing you is my one goal,
And my heart finds happiness in that role,
But that heart also takes the slight liberty
Of daring to doubt this felicity.
Perhaps these sweet words are a decorous ruse
Designed to disrupt my hymeneal news;
And, if I may speak quite freely with you,
I won't believe that all you say is true
Until I'm assured that you couldn't lie
By a few of those favors for which I sigh.
Such favors would make me your devotee
And a true believer in your fondness for me.
Elmire [she coughs to warn her husband]. Do you demand to push on with such great speed,
And drain my heart dry by your burning need?
I risk my life in proclaiming my love,
And for you even that is not enough!
Can't you be satisfied with what I say?
Must you force me into going all the way?
Tartuffe. The less one merits, the more one desires.
Mere words will never quench our raging fires.
A promised gift is often suspected;
We rarely believe it, until we inspect it.
I, who so little merit your favors,
Doubt the happy outcome of my of labors.
And I will not believe a thing, my dear,
Until you ease my pain to prove you're sincere.
Elmire. Good God, your love is too oppressive;
It troubles my soul and becomes obsessive!
What a crazy power it has on the heart!
With what fierce passion it tears me apart!
What! Is there no way to stave off your desire?
Won't you give me a moment to respire?
Do you think it is fair to be so firm,
To demand everything and watch me squirm,
To take what you want, pushing and pressing,
And abusing my weakness in acquiescing?
Tartuffe. If you look on me with a kindly heart,
Then prove how you feel by playing your part.
Elmire. But how can I give you the things you seek
Without offending that God of whom you speak?
Tartuffe. If it's only God that opposes my desire,
I'll think up a way to make him conspire,
And that need not restrain your heart, my dear.
Elmire. But