Racine: Phaedra

310
MOLIERE
Alceste. What ! you face thus calmly this all-convincing proof?
And the tenderness you show in it for Oronte, has it noth-
ing that can outrage me or shame you ?
Celimene. Oronte! who told you that this letter is for him?
Alceste. Those who, to-day, put it in my hands. But suppose
I grant that it is for another, have I less cause to com-
plain ? and would you be, in fact, less guilty towards me ?
Celimene. But if the letter was written to a woman, in what
can it hurt you, and what guilt is there in it ?
Alceste. Ah ! the evasion is excellent, and the excuse admirable!
I must acknowledge that I did not expect such
deceit, and I am now altogether convinced. What ! do you
dare to have recourse to such base tricks? Do you think
people entirely devoid of understanding ? Show me a little
in what way you can maintain such a palpable falsehood,
and how you can apply to a woman all the words which in
this letter convey so much tenderness. In order to cover
your infidelity, reconcile if you can what I am going to
read to . . .
Celimene. No, I will not. What right have you to assume
such authority, and to dare to tell me such things to my
face?
Alceste. No, no, instead of giving way to anger, try to ex-
plain to me the expressions you use here.
Celimene. I shall do nothing of the kind, and what you think
on the subject matters very little to me.
Alceste. For pity's sake, show me, and I shall be satisfied, that
this letter can be explained to be meant for a woman.
Celimene. It is for Oronte ; there ! and I will have you believe
it. I receive all his attentions gladly. I admire what he
says; I like his person, and I admit whatever you please.
Do as you like, take your own course, let nothing stop you,
and annoy me no more.
Alceste [aside], O heavens! can anything more cruel be invented;
and was ever a heart treated in such a manner?
What! I am justly incensed against her, I come to complain,
and I must bear the blame ! She excites my grief and
my suspicion to the utmost. She wishes me to believe
everything, she boasts of everything; and yet my heart is
cowardly enough not to break the bonds that bind it, cow-