Tartuffe. Well! I must then mortify myself. If, however, you would …

Orgon. Ah!

Tartuffe. Be it so: let us say no more about it. But I know how to manage in this. Honour is a tender thing, and friendship enjoins me to prevent reports and causes for suspicion. I shall shun your wife, and you shall not see me …

Orgon. No, in spite of all, you shall frequently be with her. To annoy the world is my greatest delight; and I wish you to be seen with her at all times. Nor is this all: the better to defy them all, I will have no other heir but you, and I am going forthwith to execute a formal deed of gift of all my property to you. A faithful and honest friend, whom I take for son-in-law, is dearer to me than son, wife, and parents. Will you not accept what I propose?

Tartuffe. The will of Heaven be done in all things.

Orgon. Poor fellow. Quick! let us get the draft drawn up: and then let envy itself burst with spite!