The Imaginary Invalid Part 8

MR. DIA. Of your alliance ...

ARG. Who can only ...

MR. DIA. And a.s.sure you ...

ARG. Tell you here....

MR. DIA. That in all that depends on our knowledge....

ARG. That he will seize every opportunity....

MR. DIA. As well as in any other way....

ARG. To show you, Sir....

MR. DIA. That we shall ever be ready, Sir....

ARG. That he is entirely at your service....

MR. DIA. To show you our zeal. (_To his son_) Now, Thomas, come forward, and pay your respects.

T. DIA. (_to_ MR. DIAFOIRUS). Ought I not to begin with the father?

MR. DIA. Yes.

T. DIA. (_to_ ARGAN). Sir, I come to salute, acknowledge, cherish, and revere in you a second father; but a second father to whom I owe more, I make bold to say, than to the first. The first gave me birth; but you have chosen me. He received me by necessity, but you have accepted me by choice. What I have from him is of the body, corporal; what I hold from you is of the will, voluntary; and in so much the more as the mental faculties are above the corporal, in so much the more do I hold precious this future affiliation, for which I come beforehand to-day to render you my most humble and most respectful homage.

TOI. Long life to the colleges which send such clever people into the world!

T. DIA. (_to_ MR. DIAFOIRUS). Has this been said to your satisfaction, father?

MR. DIA. _Optime_.

ARG. (_to_ ANGeLIQUE). Come, bow to this gentleman.

T. DIA. (_to_ MR. DIAFOIRUS). Shall I kiss?

MR. DIA. Yes, yes.

T. DIA. (_to_ ANGeLIQUE). Madam, it is with justice that heaven has given you the name of stepmother, since we see in you steps towards the perfect beauty which....[2]

ARG. (_to_ THOMAS DIAFOIRUS). It is not to my wife, but to my daughter, that you are speaking.

T. DIA. Where is she?

ARG. She will soon come.

T. DIA. Shall I wait, father, till she comes?

MR. DIA. No; go through your compliments to the young lady in the meantime.

T. DIA. Madam, as the statue of Memnon gave forth a harmonious sound when it was struck by the first rays of the sun, in like manner do I experience a sweet rapture at the apparition of this sun of your beauty. As the naturalists remark that the flower styled heliotrope always turns towards the star of day, so will my heart for ever turn towards the resplendent stars of your adorable eyes as to its only pole. Suffer me, then, Madam, to make to-day on the altar of your charms the offering of a heart which longs for and is ambitious of no greater glory than to be till death, Madam, your most humble, most obedient, most faithful servant and husband.

TOI. Ah! See what it is to study, and how one learns to say fine things!

ARG. (_to_ CLeANTE). Well! what do you say to that?

CLE. The gentleman does wonders, and if he is as good a doctor as he is an orator, it will be most pleasant to be one of his patients.

TOI. Certainly, it will be something admirable if his cures are as wonderful as his speeches.

ARG. Now, quick, my chair; and seats for everybody. (_Servants bring chairs._) Sit down here, my daughter. (_To_ MR. DIAFOIRUS) You see, Sir, that everybody admires your son; and I think you very fortunate in being the father of such a fine young man.

MR. DIA. Sir, it is not because I am his father, but I can boast that I have reason to be satisfied with him, and that all those who see him speak of him as of a youth without guile. He has not a very lively imagination, nor that sparkling wit which is found in some others; but it is this which has always made me augur well of his judgment, a quality required for the exercise of our art. As a child he never was what is called sharp or lively. He was always gentle, peaceful, taciturn, never saying a word, and never playing at any of those little pastimes that we call children's games. It was found most difficult to teach him to read, and he was nine years old before he knew his letters. A good omen, I used to say to myself; trees slow of growth bear the best fruit. We engrave on marble with much more difficulty than on sand, but the result is more lasting; and that dulness of apprehension, that heaviness of imagination, is a mark of a sound judgment in the future. When I sent him to college, he found it hard work, but he stuck to his duty, and bore up with obstinacy against all difficulties. His tutors always praised him for his a.s.siduity and the trouble he took. In short, by dint of continual hammering, he at last succeeded gloriously in obtaining his degree; and I can say, without vanity, that from that time till now there has been no candidate who has made more noise than he in all the disputations of our school. There he has rendered himself formidable, and no debate pa.s.ses but he goes and argues loudly and to the last extreme on the opposite side. He is firm in dispute, strong as a Turk in his principles, never changes his opinion, and pursues an argument to the last recesses of logic. But, above all things, what pleases me in him, and what I am glad to see him follow my example in, is that he is blindly attached to the opinions of the ancients, and that he would never understand nor listen to the reasons and the experiences of the pretended discoveries of our century concerning the circulation of the blood and other opinions of the same stamp.[3]

T. DIA. (_pulling out of his pocket a long paper rolled up, and presenting it to_ ANGeLIQUE). I have upheld against these circulators a thesis which, with the permission (_bowing to_ ARGAN) of this gentleman, I venture to present to the young lady as the first-fruits of my genius.

ANG. Sir, it is a useless piece of furniture to me; I do not understand these things.

TOI. (_taking the paper_). Never mind; give it all the same; the picture will be of use, and we will adorn our attic with it.

T. DIA. (_again bowing to_ ANGeLIQUE). With the permission of this gentleman, I invite you to come one of these days to amuse yourself by a.s.sisting at the dissection of a woman upon whose body I am to give lectures.

TOI. The treat will be most welcome. There are some who give the pleasure of seeing a play to their lady-love; but a dissection is much more gallant.

MR. DIA. Moreover, in respect to the qualities required for marriage, I a.s.sure you that he is all you could wish, and that his children will be strong and healthy.

ARG. Do you not intend, Sir, to push his way at court, and obtain for him the post of physician there?

MR. DIA. To tell you the truth, I have never had any predilection to practice with the great; it never seemed pleasant to me, and I have found that it is better for us to confine ourselves to the ordinary public. Ordinary people are more convenient; you are accountable to n.o.body for your actions, and as long as you follow the common rules laid down by the faculty, there is no necessity to trouble yourself about the result. What is vexatious among people of rank is that, when they are ill, they positively expect their doctor to cure them.

TOI. How very absurd! How impertinent of them to ask of you doctors to cure them! You are not placed near them for that, but only to receive your fees and to prescribe remedies. It is their own look-out to get well if they can.

MR. DIA. Quite so. We are only bound to treat people according to form.

ARG. (_to_ CLeANTE). Sir, please make my daughter sing before the company.

CLE. I was waiting for your commands, Sir; and I propose, in order to amuse the company, to sing with the young lady an operetta which has lately come out. (_To_ ANGeLIQUE, _giving her a paper_) There is your part.

ANG. Mine?

CLE. (_aside to_ ANGeLIQUE). Don't refuse, pray; but let me explain to you what is the scene we must sing. (_Aloud_) I have no voice; but in this case it is sufficient if I make myself understood; and you must have the goodness to excuse me, because I am under the necessity of making the young lady sing.

ARG. Are the verses pretty?

CLE. It is really nothing but a small extempore opera, and what you will hear is only rhythmical prose or a kind of irregular verse, such as pa.s.sion and necessity make two people utter.

ARG. Very well; let us hear.