School for Husbands and the Imaginary Cuckold, or Sganarelle
Page 8
And love is born of marriage, very often.
But I’m a fool to argue and persuade,
When a father should command, and be obeyed!
Let’s have no more, please, of your insolence,
And spare me your alases and laments.
My future son-in-law will call tonight;
Be sure, be very sure, to treat him right:
If you dare to be unwelcoming and cold,
I’ll . . . Well, I’ll say no more. Do as you’re told.
Scene 2
Célie, Célie’s Maid.
MAID
Dear Mistress, what possesses you to spurn
The thing for which so many women yearn—
To greet a marriage offer with streaming eyes,
And balk at saying yes to such a prize?
If only someone asked my hand, there’d be
No need to press the matter, believe you me,
And I’d not find that “yes” was hard to say:
I’d blurt a dozen yesses, right away.
Your little brother’s tutor, who comes around
To hear his daily lessons, was very sound
When, telling us of Nature’s great design,
He said that woman is like the ivy vine,
Which, clinging to its oak, grows lush and tall,
But, lacking that support, can’t thrive at all.
No truer words were ever spoken, ma’am,
As well I know, poor sinner that I am.
God rest my dear dead Jacques! Before he died,
My eye was merry, my heart was satisfied,
My cheeks were rosy and my body plump,
And now I’m nothing but a sad old frump.
Back in those sweet days when I had a man,
I slept all winter without a warming pan;
Small need there was to spread my sheets to dry!
But now I shiver even in July.
Believe me, dearest Mistress, there’s nothing quite
Like having a husband next to you at night,
If only for the cozy thought that he’s
Nearby to say, “God bless you,” when you sneeze.
CÉLIE
Would you have me jilt my dear Lélie, and wed
This ugly-looking man Valère instead?
MAID
Well, your Lélie’s a blockhead, in my view,
To take so long a trip away from you,
And his extended absence makes me start
To wonder if he’s had a change of heart.
CÉLIE
(Showing her a locket containing the portrait of Lélie:)
No, I’ll not entertain that dire conjecture.
Look at the noble features in this picture;
They speak to me of love that shall not die.
I can’t believe such lineaments could lie,
And since it’s he whose face is imaged here,
I know my love will ever hold me dear.
MAID
He has a faithful lover’s face, that’s true,
And you’re quite right to love him as you do.
CÉLIE
But what if I’m forced . . . Oh, hold me!
(She drops Lélie’s portrait.)
MAID
(Supporting Célie as she swoons:)
Madam, pray,
What ails you? . . . Heavens! She’s fainted dead away!
Help, someone! Hurry!
Scene 3
Célie, Sganarelle, Célie’s Maid.
SGANARELLE
What’s up? Did I hear you call?
MAID
Oh, sir, my lady’s dying.
SGANARELLE
Is that all?
You screamed as though all Hell had reared its head.
Let’s have a look at her. Madam, are you dead?
Huh! She says nothing.
MAID
I’ll go fetch someone who
Will help to carry her. Hold her, I beg of you.
Scene 4
Célie, Sganarelle, Sganarelle’s Wife.
SGANARELLE
(Supporting Célie, and passing his hand over her bosom:)
She’s cold all over; is that a proof of death?
I’ll watch her lips, to see if she takes a breath.
My word! I can’t be sure, but it seems to me
That her mouth shows signs of life.
WIFE
(Looking down from a window:)
Oh! What do I see?
My husband and some woman . . . I’ll slip downstairs
And catch that cheating rascal unawares.
SGANARELLE
(To a man whom the Maid has brought in:)
Come, we must get her help without delay;
It would be wrong of her to pass away.
The other world’s a stupid place to go
When everything’s so pleasant here below.
Scene 5
Sganarelle’s Wife alone.
WIFE
Well, he has suddenly vanished from this place,
And I can’t learn the full facts of the case;
But the little I saw has left no room for doubt:
The man’s a traitor, and I have found him out.
I now well understand the chilly fashion
Of his responses to my wifely passion:
He saves his hugs for other women, the swine,
And feeds their appetites while starving mine.
Well, that’s how husbands are: For them, the joy
Of lawful wedded love soon starts to cloy.
At first they think it wondrous and sublime,
And fervently adore us, but in time
They weary of our kisses, and start to roam,
Bestowing elsewhere what belongs at home.
O for a law that would allow us women
To change our husbands as we change our linen!
What a boon for wives! And I know many a one
Who’d gladly do it if it could be done.
(Picking up the portrait dropped by Célie:)
But what’s this locket, which chance drops at my feet?
The enamel’s charming, the engraving neat.
I’ll open it.
Scene 6
Sganarelle, Sganarelle’s Wife.
SGANARELLE
(Thinking himself alone:)
Was she dead? No, not a bit
She’d only fainted, and soon came out of it.
But I see my wife.
WIFE
(Thinking herself alone:)
Oh, my! It’s a miniature!
What a handsome man! What lifelike portraiture!
SGANARELLE
(Aside, as he looks over his wife’s shoulder:)
What is she so absorbed in looking at?
A portrait, eh? I don’t much care for that.
A dark suspicion takes possession of me.
WIFE
(Not noticing her husband:)
I’ve never laid eyes upon a thing so lovely.
The workmanship’s more precious than the gold.
And it smells so fragrant!
SGANARELLE
(Aside:)
So, I was right! Behold,
She’s kissing it!
WIFE
(Still unaware of her husband:)
I confess that I would be
Ravished if such a man paid court to me,
And that, if his sweet pleadings should persist,
My virtue might not manage to resist.
Ah, why can’t I have a mate thus nobly made,
Instead of the bald clown—
SGANARELLE
(Snatching away the portrait:)
Hold on, you jade!
I’ve caught you in the act. You dare defame
Your husband, and asperse his honored name.
So then, milady, in your considered view,
Milord is not quite good enough for you!
Well, by the Devil (and may the Devil take
you),
What better gift than me could Heaven make you?
Can you perceive in me a single flaw?
This figure, which the world regards with awe,
This face, which wakens love in each beholder
And makes a thousand beauties sigh and smolder,
Don’t these, and all my other charms, provide
A feast with which you should be satisfied?
Or does a tasty husband not suffice,
So that you need a gallant, for added spice?
WIFE
I see right through your sly buffooneries.
You hope thereby to—
SGANARELLE
No evasions, please.
The case is proved, and here in my possession
Is the clearest evidence of your transgression.
WIFE
See here: My anger is already strong,
Without your doing me a second wrong.
Give back my locket, and keep your tongue in check.
What do you mean—
SGANARELLE
I mean to wring your neck.
Oh, how I wish the rogue who’s pictured here
Were in my clutches!
WIFE
What for?
SGANARELLE
Why, nothing, dear!
I’m wrong to be resentful, and my brow
Should thank you for the gifts it’s wearing now.
(Looking at Lélie’s portrait:)
Yes, there he is, your pretty boy, your pet,
The spark by whom your secret fire was set,
The wretch with whom . . .
WIFE
With whom . . . Go on. What’s next?
SGANARELLE
With whom, I say . . . and it makes me deeply vexed.
WIFE
What is this drunken idiot trying to say?
SGANARELLE
You take my meaning, strumpet. It’s plain as day.
My name’s no longer Sganarelle, and folk
Will dub me Mister Staghorn, for a joke.
You’ve made me lose my honor; but when I’m through,
I shall have made you lose a tooth or two.
WIFE
How dare you speak to me so threateningly?
SGANARELLE
How dare you play such wicked tricks on me?
WIFE
What wicked tricks? Talk plainly. Spell it out.
SGANARELLE
Ah, no, I’ve nothing to be sore about!
What does it matter if people laugh and stare
At the buck’s antlers you have made me wear?
WIFE
So, having wronged me by a grave offense—
The crime a married woman most resents—
You seek now to forestall my rage by feigning
A righteous wrath, and clownishly complaining!
I’ve never seen so insolent a ruse:
The one you’ve sinned against, you dare accuse.
SGANARELLE
My! Judging by the haughty speech you’ve made me,
One might mistake you for a virtuous lady!
WIFE
Go on, pursue your mistresses, address them
With tender words, and lovingly caress them:
But let me have my locket, you lustful ape.
(She snatches the portrait from him, and flees.)
SGANARELLE
(Running after her:)
I’ll get that back, don’t worry . . . you shan’t escape.
Scene 7
Lélie, Gros-René.
GROS-RENÉ
We’re home at last. But now, sir, if you’ll hear me,
I’d like to pose to you a little query.
LÉLIE
Well, ask it.
GROS-RENÉ
Are you possessed, sir, by some devil,
So that you’re not worn out by all this travel?
For eight whole days we’ve galloped, sir; from dawn
To dusk we’ve spurred our spavined horses on,
And been so tossed and jolted by their pace
That all my bones feel bruised and out of place,
Not to forget a blister hot as flame
That pains me in a spot I shall not name:
Yet you, once here, rush out on eager feet
Without a moment’s rest, or a bite to eat.
LÉLIE
Our swift return was wholly necessary.
I’d heard dire news that Célie soon might marry;
You know I love her; I now must go in haste
And learn on what that dread report was based.
GROS-RENÉ
Yes, but you need a good square meal, sir, ere
You sally forth to fathom this affair;
’Twill fortify your heart, you may be sure,
To bear whatever shocks it must endure.
That’s how it is with me; when I haven’t eaten,
The smallest setback leaves me crushed and beaten;
But when my belly’s full, my soul is strong,
And the worst mischance can’t trouble me for long.
Be wise, then: Stuff yourself, and that will steel you
Against such bitter blows as fate may deal you;
Moreover, make your heart immune to woe
By downing twenty cups of wine or so.
LÉLIE
No, I can’t eat.
GROS-RENÉ
(Sotto voce, aside:)
If I don’t eat soon, I’ll die!
(Aloud:)
Your dinner could be served in the wink of an eye.
LÉLIE
Be still, I tell you.
GROS-RENÉ
How cruel! How unkind!
LÉLIE
It’s worry, and not hunger, that’s on my mind.
GROS-RENÉ
I’m hungry, sir, and it worries me to learn
That a foolish passion is your sole concern.
LÉLIE
Let me seek news of her whom I adore;
Go eat, if you wish, and pester me no more.
GROS-RENÉ
I shall not question such a sound command.
Scene 8
Lélie alone.
LÉLIE
No, no, I’ve let my fears get out of hand;
Her father’s solemn promise, and her demure
Avowals of love should make my hopes secure.
Scene 9
Sganarelle, Lélie.
SGANARELLE
(Not seeing Lélie, and holding the portrait in his hands:)
I’ve got it back, and I’ll study now the face
Of the scoundrel who’s the cause of my disgrace . . .
No, I don’t know him.
LÉLIE
(Aside:)
Great heavens! What have I seen?
Is that my portrait? What can this possibly mean?
SGANARELLE
(Not seeing Lélie.)
Alas, poor Sganarelle, your once proud name
Is doomed to suffer mockery and shame!
Henceforth . . .
(Noticing that Lélie is looking at him, he turns away.)
LÉLIE
(Aside:)
’Twill cause my faith in her to waver,
If she has parted with the gift I gave her.
SGANARELLE
(Aside:)
Henceforth you shall be scorned by all you meet;
They’ll point two fingers at you in the street,
And balladeers will jest about the horrid
Growths that a witch has planted on your forehead!
LÉLIE
(Aside:)
Could I be wrong?
SGANARELLE
(Aside:)
How could you, vicious wife,
Make me a cuckold in my prime of life?
Why, when your mate’s well favored, spry and dapper,
Were you attracted to this whippersnapper?
LÉLIE
(Aside, as he once more l
ooks at the portrait in Sganarelle’s hands:)
No, it’s my portrait, just as I surmised.
SGANARELLE
(Aside, turning his back to Lélie:)
That man is nosy.
LÉLIE
(Aside:)
I’m utterly surprised.
SGANARELLE
(Aside:)
What does he want?
LÉLIE
(Aside:)
I’ll speak to him. (To Sganarelle) If I may . . .
(Sganarelle starts moving away.)
Wait! Just one word.
SGANARELLE
(Aside, still moving away:)
What is it he wants to say?
LÉLIE
I should be grateful if you told me how