The Miser

Eli. I see many things in what you tell me, dear brother; and it is sufficient for me to know that you love her for me to understand what she is.

Cle. I have discovered, without their knowing it, that they are not in very good circumstances, and that, although they live with the greatest care, they have barely enough to cover their expenses. Can you imagine, my sister, what happiness it must be to improve the condition of those we love; skilfully to bring about some relief to the modest wants of a virtuous family? And think what grief it is for me to find myself deprived of this great joy through the avarice of a father, and for it to be impossible for me to give any proof of my love to her who is all in all to me.

Eli. Yes, I understand, dear brother, what sorrow this must be to you.

Cle. It is greater, my sister, than you can believe. For is there anything more cruel than this mean economy to which we are subjected? this strange penury in which we are made to pine? What good will it do us to have a fortune if it only comes to us when we are not able to enjoy it; if now to provide for my daily maintenance I get into debt on every side; if both you and I are reduced daily to beg the help of tradespeople in order to have decent clothes to wear? In short, I wanted to speak to you that you might help me to sound my father concerning my present feelings; and if I find him opposed to them, I am determined to go and live elsewhere with this most charming girl, and to make the best of what Providence offers us. I am trying everywhere to raise money for this purpose; and if your circumstances, dear sister, are like mine, and our father opposes us, let us both leave him, and free ourselves from the tyranny in which his hateful avarice has for so long held us.

Eli. It is but too true that every day he gives us more and more reason to regret the death of our mother, and that …

Cle. I hear his voice. Let us go a little farther and finish our talk. We will afterwards join our forces to make a common attack on his hard and unkind heart.

SCENE III. – HARPAGON, LA FLÈCHE

Har. Get out of here, this moment; and let me have no more of your prating. Now then, be gone out of my house, you sworn pickpocket, you veritable gallows' bird.

La Fl. (aside). I never saw anything more wicked than this cursed old man; and I truly believe, if I may be allowed to say so, that he is possessed with a devil.

Har. What are you muttering there between your teeth?

La Fl. Why do you send me away?

Har. You dare to ask me my reasons, you scoundrel? Out with you, this moment, before I give you a good thrashing.

La Fl. What have I done to you?

Har. Done this, that I wish you to be off.

La Fl. My master, your son, gave me orders to wait for him.

Har. Go and wait for him in the street, then; out with you; don't stay in my house, straight and stiff as a sentry, to observe what is going on, and to make your profit of everything. I won't always have before me a spy on all my affairs; a treacherous scamp, whose cursed eyes watch all my actions, covet all I possess, and ferret about in every corner to see if there is anything to steal.

La Fl. How the deuce could one steal anything from you? Are you a man likely to be robbed when you put every possible thing under lock and key, and mount guard day and night?

Har. I will lock up whatever I think fit, and mount guard when and where I please. Did you ever see such spies as are set upon me to take note of everything I do? (Aside) I tremble for fear he should suspect something of my money. (Aloud) Now, aren't you a fellow to give rise to stories about my having money hid in my house?

La Fl. You have some money hid in your house?

Har. No, scoundrel! I do not say that. (Aside) I am furious! (Aloud) I only ask if out of mischief you do not spread abroad the report that I have some?

La Fl. Oh! What does it matter whether you have money, or whether you have not, since it is all the same to us?

Har. (raising his hand to give La Flèche a blow). Oh! oh! You want to argue, do you? I will give you, and quickly too, some few of these arguments about your ears. Get out of the house, I tell you once more.

La Fl. Very well; very well. I am going.

Har. No, wait; are you carrying anything away with you?

La Fl. What can I possibly carry away?

Har. Come here, and let me see. Show me your hands.

La Fl. There they are.

Har. The others.

La Fl. The others?

Har. Yes.

La Fl. There they are.

Har. (pointing to La Flèche's breeches). Have you anything hid in here?

La Fl. Look for yourself.

Har. (feeling the knees of the breeches). These wide knee-breeches are convenient receptacles of stolen goods; and I wish a pair of them had been hanged.

La Fl. (aside). Ah! how richly such a man deserves what he fears, and what joy it would be to me to steal some of his …

Har. Eh?

La Fl. What?

Har. What is it you talk of stealing?

La Fl. I say that you feel about everywhere to see if I have been stealing anything.

Har. And I mean to do so too. (He feels in La Flèche's pockets).

La Fl. Plague take all misers and all miserly ways!

Har. Eh? What do you say?

La Fl. What do I say?

Har. Yes. What is it you say about misers and miserly ways.

La Fl. I say plague take all misers and all miserly ways.

Har. Of whom do you speak?

La Fl. Of misers.

Har. And who are they, these misers?

La Fl. Villains and stingy wretches!

Har. But what do you mean by that?