THE IMPOSTURES OF SCAPIN
A monologue from the
play by Molière
|
NOTE: This monologue is reprinted
from The Dramatic Works of Molière, Vol. III. Ed.
Charles Heron Wall. London: George Bell & Sons, 1891. |
|
|
ZERBINETTE: I shall not risk much by telling you this
story, for it is an adventure which is not likely to remain secret
long. Fate placed me among one of those bands of people who are
called gypsies, and who, tramping from province to province,
tell you your fortune, and do many other things besides. When
we came to this town, I met a young man, who, on seeing me, fell
in love with me. From that moment he followed me everywhere;
and, like all young men, he imagined that he had but to speak
and things would go on as he liked; but he met with a pride which
forced him to think twice. He spoke of his love to the people
in whose power I was, and found them ready to give me up for
a certain sum of money. But the sad part of the business was
that my lover found himself exactly in the same condition as
most young men of good family, that is, without any money at
all. His father, although rich, is the stingiest old skinflint
and greatest miser you ever heard of. And our people wished to
leave town today, and my lover would have lost me through his
lack of money if, in order to wrench some out of his father,
he had not made use of a clever servant he has. His name is Scapin.
He is a most wonderful man and deserves the highest praise. Just
listen to the plan he adopted to take in his dupe--ha! ha! ha!
ha! I can't think of it without laughing--ha! ha! ha! He went
to that old screw--ha! ha! ha!--and told him that while he was
walking about the harbour with his son--ha! ha!--they noticed
a Turkish galley; that a young Turk had invited them to come
in and see it; that he had given them some lunch--ha! ha!--and
that, while they were at table, the galley had gone into the
open sea; that the Turk had sent him alone back, with the express
order to say to him that, unless he sent five hundred crowns,
he would take his son to be a slave in Algiers--ha! ha! ha! You
may imagine our miser, our stingy old curmudgeon, in the greatest
anguish, struggling between his love for his son and his love
for his money. Those five hundred crowns that are asked of him
are five hundred dagger-thrusts--ha! ha! ha! ha! He can't bring
his mind to tear out, as it were, this sum from his heart, and
his anguish makes him think of the most ridiculous means to find
money for his son's ransom--ha! ha! ha! He wants to send the
police into the open sea after the Turk's galley--ha! ha! ha!
He asks his servant to take the place of his son till he has
found the money to pay for him--money he has no intention of
giving--ha! ha! ha! The servant shows him each time how absurd
is what he proposes, and each reflection of the old fellow is
accompanied by an agonizing, "But why the devil did he go
in that galley for? Ah! cursed galley. Ah! scoundrel of Turk!"
At last, after many hesitations, after having sighed and groaned
for a long time ... but it seems to me that my story does not
make you laugh. Why aren't you laughing?
MORE
MONOLOGUES BY MOLIÈRE |
