ANTONIO: Some men have wish’d to die
At the hearing of sad tidings; I am glad
That I shall do’t in sadness. I would not now
Wish my wounds balm’d nor heal’d, for I have no use
To put my life to. In all our quest of greatness,
Like wanton boys, whose pastime is their care,
We follow after bubbles blown in th’ air.
Pleasure of life, what is’t? Only the good hours
Of an ague, merely a preparative to rest
To endure vexation. I do not ask
The process of my death; only commend me
To Delio.
BOSOLA: Break, heart!
ANTONIO: And let my son fly the courts of princes.
Dies
BOSOLA: Thou seem’st to have lov’d Antonio?
SERVANT: I brought him hither,
To have reconcil’d him to the Cardinal.
BOSOLA: I do not ask thee that.
Take him up, if thou tender thy own life,
And bear him where the lady Julia
Was wont to lodge. O my fate moves swift!
I have this Cardinal in the forge already,
Now I’ll bring him to th’ hammer. O direful misprision!
I will not imitate things glorious,
No more than base; I’ll be mine own example.
On, on, and look thou represent, for silence,
The thing thou bear’st.
They exit with the body
ACT V, SCENE V
The CARDINAL’S apartments
Enter CARDINAL, with a book
CARDINAL: I am puzzled in a question about hell.
He says, in hell there’s one material fire,
And yet it shall not burn all men alike.
Lay him by. How tedious is a guilty conscience!
When I look into the fish-ponds in my garden,
Methinks I see a thing arm’d with a rake,
That seems to strike at me.
Enter BOSOLA and SERVANT
Now, art thou come? Thou look’st ghastly.
There sits in thy face some great determination,
Mix’d with some fear.
BOSOLA: Thus it lightens into action.
I am come to kill thee.
CARDINAL: Ha! Help! Our guard!
BOSOLA: Thou art deceiv’d;
They are out of thy howling.
CARDINAL: Hold, and I will faithfully divide
Revenues with thee.
BOSOLA: Thy prayers and proffers
Are both unseasonable.
CARDINAL: Raise the watch. We are betray’d!
BOSOLA: I have confin’d your flight.
I’ll suffer your retreat to Julia’s chamber,
But no further.
CARDINAL: Help! We are betray’d!
Enter MALATESTE, PESCARA, RODERIGO, and GRISOLAN, above
MALATESTE: Listen.
CARDINAL: My dukedom for rescue!
RODERIGO: Fie upon his counterfeiting.
MALATESTE: Why, ’tis not the Cardinal.
RODERIGO: Yes, yes, ’tis he,
But I’ll see him hang’d ere I’ll go down to him.
CARDINAL: Here’s a plot upon me; I am assaulted! I am lost
Unless some rescue!
GRISOLAN: He doth this pretty well;
But it will not serve to laugh me out of mine honor.
CARDINAL: The sword’s at my throat!
RODERIGO: You would not bawl so loud then.
MALATESTE: Come, come, let’s go to bed. He told us thus much aforehand.
PESCARA: He wish’d you should not come at him; but believe’t,
The accent of the voice sounds not in jest.
I’ll down to him, howsoever, and with engines
Force ope the doors.
Exit
RODERIGO: Let’s follow him aloof,
And note how the Cardinal will laugh at him.
Exit above, Malateste, Roderigo, and Grisolan
BOSOLA: There’s for you first,
‘Cause you shall not unbarricade the door
To let in rescue.
He kills the servant
CARDINAL: What cause hast thou to pursue my life?
BOSOLA: Look there.
CARDINAL: Antonio!
BOSOLA: Slain by my hand unwittingly.
Pray, and be sudden. When thou kill’d’st thy sister,
Thou took’st from Justice her most equal balance,
And left her naught but her sword.
CARDINAL: O mercy!
BOSOLA: Now it seems thy greatness was only outward,
For thou fall’st faster of thyself than calamity
Can drive thee. I’ll not waste longer time; there.
Stabs him
CARDINAL: Thou hast hurt me.
BOSOLA: Again.
CARDINAL: Shall I die like a leveret,
Without any resistance? Help, help, help!
I am slain.
Enter FERDINAND
FERDINAND: Th’ alarum! Give me a fresh horse;
Rally the vaunt-guard, or the day is lost.
Yield, yield! I give you the honors of arms,
Shake my sword over you; will you yield?
CARDINAL: Help me, I am your brother!
FERDINAND: The devil! My brother fight upon the adverse party?
He wounds the CARDINAL, and (in the scuffle) gives BOSOLA his death wound
There flies your ransom.
CARDINAL: O justice!
I suffer now for what hath former been:
Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.
FERDINAND: Now you’re brave fellows.
Caesar’s fortune was harder than Pompey’s;
Caesar died in the arms of prosperity,
Pompey at the feet of disgrace.
You both died in the field,
The pain’s nothing. Pain many time is taken away with
The apprehension of greater, as the toothache with the sight
Of a barber that comes to pull it out; there’s philosophy for you.
BOSOLA: Now my revenge is perfect. Sink, thou main cause
Of my undoing. The last part of my life
Hath done me best service.
He stabs Ferdinand
FERDINAND: Give me some wet hay, I am broken-winded.
I do account this world but a dog-kennel.
I will vault credit and affect high pleasures
Beyond death.
BOSOLA: He seems to come to himself, now he’s so near the bottom.
FERDINAND: My sister, O my sister! there’s the cause on’t.
Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust,
Like diamonds, we are cut with our own dust.
Dies
CARDINAL: Thou hast thy payment too.
BOSOLA: Yes, I hold my weary soul in my teeth;
’Tis ready to part from me. I do glory
That thou, which stood’st like a huge pyramid
Begun upon a large and ample base,
Shalt end in a little point, a kind of nothing.
Enter PESCARA and the others
PESCARA: How now, my lord!
MALATESTE: O, sad disaster!
RODERIGO: How comes this?
BOSOLA: Revenge for the Duchess of Malfi, murder’d
By the Arragonian brethren; for Antonio,
Slain by this hand; for lustful Julia,
Poison’d by this man; and lastly for myself,
That was an actor in the main of all
Much ‘gainst mine own good nature, yet i’th’ end
Neglected.
PESCARA: How now, my lord?
CARDINAL: Look to my brother:
He gave us these large wounds, as we were struggling
Here i’th’ rushes. And now, I pray, let me
Be laid by and never thought of.
Dies
PESCARA: How fatally, it seems, he did withstand
His own rescue!
MALATESTE: Thou wretched thing of blood,
How came Antonio by his death?
BOSOLA: In a mist; I know not how.
Such a mistake as I have often seen
In a play. O, I am gone!
We are only like dead walls, or vaulted graves,
That ruin’d, yield no echo. Fare you well.
It may be pain, but no harm to me to die
In so good a quarrel. O, this gloomy world!
In what a shadow, or deep pit of darkness,
Doth womanish and fearful mankind live!
Let worthy minds ne’er stagger in distrust
To suffer death or shame for what is just:
Mine is another voyage.
Dies
PESCARA: The noble Delio, as I came to th’ palace,
Told me of Antonio’s being here, and show’d me
A pretty gentleman, his son and heir.
Enter DELIO, and Antonio’s son
MALATESTE: O sir, you come too late!
DELIO: I heard so, and
Was arm’d for’t ere I came. Let us make noble use
Of this great ruin, and join all our force
To establish this young hopeful gentleman
In’s mother’s right. These wretched eminent things
Leave no more fame behind ‘em, than should one
Fall in a frost, and leave his print in snow:
As soon as the sun shines, it ever melts,
Both form and matter. I have ever thought
Nature doth nothing so great for great men,
As when she’s pleas’d to make them lords of truth:
Integrity of life is fame’s best friend,
Which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end.
Finis
THE MISANTHROPE by Molière
1666
This 17th-century comedy of manners was first performed in 1666 at the Théâtre du Palais-Royal, Paris by the King’s Players. The play satirises the hypocrisies of French aristocratic society, and also engages a more serious tone when pointing out the flaws which all humans possess. The play differs from other farces at the time by employing dynamic characters like Alceste and Célimène as opposed to the traditionally flat characters used by most satirists to criticize problems in society. It also differs from most of Molière’s other works by focusing more on character development and nuances than on plot progression.
The famous playwright that went by the stage name of Molière
CONTENTS
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ACT I
SCENE I. — PHILINTE, ALCESTE.
SCENE II. — ORONTE, ALCESTE, PHILINTE.
SCENE III. — PHILINTE, ALCESTE.
ACT II
SCENE I. — ALCESTE, CÉLIMÈNE.
SCENE II. — CÉLIMÈNE, ALCESTE, BASQUE.
SCENE III. — CÉLIMÈNE, ALECESTE.
SCENE IV. — ALCESTE, CÉLIMÈNE, BASQUE.
SCENE V. — ELIANTE, PHILINTE, ACASTE, CLITANDRE, ALCESTE, CÉLIMÈNE, BASQUE.
SCENE VI. — ALCESTE, CÉLIMÈNE, ELIANTE, ACASTE, PHILINTE, CLITANDRE, BASQUE.
SCENE VII. — ALCESTE, CÉLIMÈNE, ELIANTE, ACASTE, PHILINTE, CLITANDRE, A GUARD OF THE MARÉCHAUSSÉE.
ACT III
SCENE I. — CLITANDRE, ACASTE.
SCENE II. — CÉLIMÈNE, ACASTE, CLITANDRE.
SCENE III. — CÉLIMÈNE, ACASTE, CLITANDRE, BASQUE.
SCENE IV. — ARSINOÉ, CÉLIMÈNE, CLITANDRE, ACASTE.
SCENE V. — ARSINOÉ, CÉLIMÈNE.
SCENE VI. — ALCESTE, CÉLIMÈNE, ARSINOÉ.
SCENE VII. — ALCESTE, ARSINOÉ.
ACT IV
SCENE I. — ELIANTE, PHILINTE
SCENE II. — ALCESTE, ELIANTE, PHILINTE.
SCENE III. — CÉLIMÈNE, ALCESTE.
SCENE IV. — CÉLIMÈNE, ALCESTE, DUBOIS.
ACT V
SCENE I. — ALCESTE, PHILINTE.
SCENE II. — CÉLIMÈNE, ORONTE, ALCESTE.
SCENE V. — CÉLIMÈNE, ELIANTE, ARSINOÉ, ALCESTE, ORONTE, PHILINTE.
SCENE VI. — CÉLIMÈNE, ELIANTE, ARSINOÉ, ALCESTE, PHILINTE.
SCENE VII. — CÉLIMÈNE, ELIANTE, ALCESTE, PHILINTE.
SCENE VIII. — ELIANTE, ALCESTE, PHILINTE.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Alceste, in love with Célimène.
Philinte, his friend.
Oronte, in love with Célimène.
Célimène, beloved by Alceste.
Eliante, her cousin.
Arsinoé, Célimène’s friend.
Acaste, marquises.
Clitandre, marquises.
Basque, servant to Célimène.
Dubois, servant to Alceste.
An Officer of the Maréchaussée.
ACT I
SCENE I. — PHILINTE, ALCESTE.
Philinte. What is the matter? What ails you?
Alceste (seated ). Leave me, I pray.
Philinte. But, once more, tell me what strange whim. . .
Alceste. Leave me, I tell you, and get out of my sight.
Philinte. But you might at least listen to people, without getting angry.
Alceste. I choose to get angry, and I do not choose to listen.
Philinte. I do not understand you in these abrupt moods, and although we are friends, I am the first. . .
Alceste (rising quickly ). I, your friend? Lay not that flattering unction to your soul. I have until now professed to be so; but after what I have just seen of you, I tell you candidly that I am such no longer; I have no wish to occupy a place in a corrupt heart.
Philinte. I am then very much to be blamed from your point of view, Alceste?
Alceste. To be blamed? You ought to die from very shame; there is no excuse for such behaviour, and every man of honour must be disgusted at it. I see you almost stifle a man with caresses, show him the most ardent affection, and overwhelm him with protestations, offers, and vows of friendship. Your ebullitions of tenderness know no bounds; and when I ask you who that man is, you can scarcely tell me his name; your feelings for him, the moment you have turned your back, suddenly cool; you speak of him most indifferently to me. Zounds! I call it unworthy, base, and infamous, so far to lower one’s self as to act contrary to one’s own feelings, and if, by some mischance, I had done such a thing, I should hang myself at once out of sheer vexation.
Philinte. I do not see that it is a hanging matter at all; and I beg of you not to think it amiss if I ask you to show me some mercy, for I shall not hung myself, if it be all the same to you.
Alceste. That is a sorry joke.
Philinte. But, seriously, what would you have people do?
Alceste. I would have people be sincere, and that, like men of honour, no word be spoken that comes not from the heart.
Philinte. When a man comes and embraces you warmly, you must pay him back in his own coin, respond as best you can to his show of feeling, and return offer for offer, and vow for vow.
Alceste. Not so. I cannot bear so base a method which your fashionable people generally affect; there is nothing I detest so much as the contortions of these great time-and-lip servers, these affable dispensers of meaningless embraces, these obliging utterers of empty words, who view every one in civilities, and treat the man of worth and the fop alike. What good does it do if a man heaps endearments on you, vows that he is your friend, that he believes in you, is full of zeal for you, esteems and loves you, and lauds you to the skies, when he rushes to do the same to the first rapscallion he meets? No, no, no heart with the least self-respect cares for esteem so prostituted; he will hardly relish it, even when openly expressed, when he finds that he shares it with the whole universe. Preference must be based on esteem, and to esteem every one is to esteem no one. Since you abandon yourself to the vices of the times, zounds! you are not the man for me. I decline this over-complaisant kindness, which uses no discrimination. I like to be distinguished; and, to cut the matter short, the friend of all manki
nd is no friend of mine.
Philinte. But when we are of the world, we must confirm to the outward civilities which custom demands.
Alceste. I deny it. We ought to punish pitilessly that shameful pretence of friendly intercourse. I like a man to be a man, and to show on all occasions the bottom of his heart in his discourse. Let that be the thing to speak, and never let our feelings be hidden beneath vain compliments.
Philinte. There are many cases in which plain speaking would become ridiculous, and could hardly be tolerated. And, with all due allowance for your unbending honesty, it is as well to conceal your feelings sometimes. Would it be right or decent to tell thousands of people what we think of them? And when we meet with some one whom we hate or who displeases us, must we tell him so openly?
Alceste. Yes.
Philinte. What! Would you tell old Emilia, that it ill becomes her to set up for a beauty at her age, and that the paint she uses disgusts everyone?
Alceste. Undoubtedly.
Philinte. Or Dorilas, that he is a bore, and that there is no one at court who is not sick of hearing him boast of his courage, and the lustre of his house?
Alceste. Decidedly so.
Philinte. You are jesting.
Alceste. I am not jesting at all; and I would not spare any one in that respect. It offends my eyes too much; and whether at Court or in town, I behold nothing but what provokes my spleen. I become quite melancholy and deeply grieved to see men behave to each other as they do. Everywhere I find nothing but base flattery, injustice, self-interest, deceit, roguery. I cannot bear it any longer; I am furious; and my intention is to break with all mankind.
Philinte. This philosophical spleen is somewhat too savage. I cannot but laugh to see you in these gloomy fits, and fancy that I perceive in us two, brought up together, the two brothers described in The School for Husbands , who. . .
Alceste. Good Heavens! drop your insipid comparisons.
Philinte. Nay, seriously, leave off these vagaries. The world will not alter for all your meddling. And as plain speaking has such charms for you, I shall tell you frankly that this complaint of yours is as good as a play, wherever you go, and that all those invectives against the manners of the age, make you a laughing stock to many people.
Alceste. So much the better Zounds! so much the better. That is just what I want. It is a very good sign, and I rejoice at it. All men are so odious to me, that I should be sorry to appear rational in their eyes.
Philinte. But do you wish harm to all mankind?
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