plays [77]
the world and
the man of delicacy. I find you all - permit me the expression -
gravelled. A marriage and an obstacle. Now, what is marriage?
The union of two souls, and, wha is possibly more romantic, the
fusion of two dowries. What is an obstacle? the devil. And
this obstacle? to me, as a man of family, the obstacle seems
grave; but to me, as a man and a brother, what is it but a word?
O my friend (TO GORIOT), you whom I single out as the victim of
the same noble failings with myself - of pride of birth, of pride
of honesty - O my friend, reflect. Go now apart with your
dishevelled daughter, your tearful son-in-law, and let their
plaints constrain you. Believe me, when you come to die, you
will recall with pride this amiable weakness.
GORIOT. I shan't, and what's more I wun't. (CHARLES AND
ERNESTINE LEAD HIM UP STAGE, PROTESTING. ALL RISE, EXCEPT
NOTARY.)
DUMONT (FRONT R., SHAKING HANDS WITH MACAIRE). Sir, you have a
noble nature. (MACAIRE PICKS HIS POCKET.) Dear me, dear me, and
you are rich.
MACAIRE. I own, sir, I deceived you: I feared some wounding
offer, and my pride replied. But to be quite frank with you, you
behold me here, the Baron Henri-Frederic de Latour de Main de la
Tonnerre de Brest, and between my simple manhood and the infinite
these rags are all.
DUMONT. Dear me, and with this noble pride, my gratitude is
useless. For I, too, have delicacy: I understand you could not
stoop to take a gift.
MACAIRE. A gift? a small one? never!
DUMONT. And I will never wound you by the offer.
MACAIRE. Bitten. }
BERTRAND. Sold again. } ASIDE.
GORIOT (TAKING THE STAGE). But, look'ee here, he can't marry.
MACAIRE. Hey? }
DUMONT. Ah! }
ALINE. Hey day! }
CURATE. Wherefore? } TOGETHER.
ERNESTINE. Oh! }
CHARLES. Ah! }
GORIOT. Not without his veyther's consent! And he hasn't got
it; and what's more, he can't get it: and what's more, he
hasn't got a veyther to get it from. It's the law of France.
ALINE. Then the law of France ought to be ashamed of itself.
ERNESTINE. O, couldn't we ask the Notary again?
CURATE. Indubitably you may ask him.
MACAIRE. Can't they marry? }
DUMONT. Can't he marry? }
ALINE. Can't she marry? } TOGETHER.
ERNESTINE. Can't we marry? }
CHARLES. Can't I marry? }
GORIOT. Bain't I right? }
NOTARY. Constracting parties.
CURATE. Possibly to-morrow at an early hour he may be more
perspicuous.
GORIOT. Ay, before he've time to get at it.
NOTARY. Unoffending jurisconsult overtaken by sorrow. Possibly
by applying justice of peace might afford relief.
MACAIRE. Bravo! }
DUMONT. Excellent! } TOGETHER.
CHARLES. Let's go at once! }
ALINE. The very thing! }
ERNESTINE. Yes, this minute!
GORIOT. I'll go. I don't mind getting advice, but I wun't take
it.
MACAIRE. My friends, one word: I perceive by your downcast
looks that you have not recognised the true nature of your
responsibility as citizens of time. What is care? impiety.
Joy? the whole duty of man. Here is an opportunity of duty it
were sinful to forego. With a word, I could lighten your hearts;
but I prefer to quicken your heels, and send you forth on your
ingenuous errand with happy faces and smiling thoughts, the
physicians of your own recovery. Fiddlers, to your catgut! Up,
Bertrand, and show them how one foots it in society; forward,
girls, and choose me every one the lad she loves; Dumont, benign
old man, lead forth our blushing Curate; and you, O bride,
embrace the uniform of your beloved, and help us dance in your
wedding-day. (DANCE, IN THE COURSE OF WHICH MACAIRE PICKS
DUMONT'S POCKET OF HIS KEYS, SELECTS THE KEY OF THE CASH-BOX, AND
RETURNS THE OTHERS TO HIS POCKET. IN THE END, ALL DANCE OUT:
THE WEDDING-PARTY, HEADED BY FIDDLERS, L. C; THE MAIDS AND ALINE
INTO THE INN, R. U. E. MANET BERTRAND AND MACAIRE.)
the man of delicacy. I find you all - permit me the expression -
gravelled. A marriage and an obstacle. Now, what is marriage?
The union of two souls, and, wha is possibly more romantic, the
fusion of two dowries. What is an obstacle? the devil. And
this obstacle? to me, as a man of family, the obstacle seems
grave; but to me, as a man and a brother, what is it but a word?
O my friend (TO GORIOT), you whom I single out as the victim of
the same noble failings with myself - of pride of birth, of pride
of honesty - O my friend, reflect. Go now apart with your
dishevelled daughter, your tearful son-in-law, and let their
plaints constrain you. Believe me, when you come to die, you
will recall with pride this amiable weakness.
GORIOT. I shan't, and what's more I wun't. (CHARLES AND
ERNESTINE LEAD HIM UP STAGE, PROTESTING. ALL RISE, EXCEPT
NOTARY.)
DUMONT (FRONT R., SHAKING HANDS WITH MACAIRE). Sir, you have a
noble nature. (MACAIRE PICKS HIS POCKET.) Dear me, dear me, and
you are rich.
MACAIRE. I own, sir, I deceived you: I feared some wounding
offer, and my pride replied. But to be quite frank with you, you
behold me here, the Baron Henri-Frederic de Latour de Main de la
Tonnerre de Brest, and between my simple manhood and the infinite
these rags are all.
DUMONT. Dear me, and with this noble pride, my gratitude is
useless. For I, too, have delicacy: I understand you could not
stoop to take a gift.
MACAIRE. A gift? a small one? never!
DUMONT. And I will never wound you by the offer.
MACAIRE. Bitten. }
BERTRAND. Sold again. } ASIDE.
GORIOT (TAKING THE STAGE). But, look'ee here, he can't marry.
MACAIRE. Hey? }
DUMONT. Ah! }
ALINE. Hey day! }
CURATE. Wherefore? } TOGETHER.
ERNESTINE. Oh! }
CHARLES. Ah! }
GORIOT. Not without his veyther's consent! And he hasn't got
it; and what's more, he can't get it: and what's more, he
hasn't got a veyther to get it from. It's the law of France.
ALINE. Then the law of France ought to be ashamed of itself.
ERNESTINE. O, couldn't we ask the Notary again?
CURATE. Indubitably you may ask him.
MACAIRE. Can't they marry? }
DUMONT. Can't he marry? }
ALINE. Can't she marry? } TOGETHER.
ERNESTINE. Can't we marry? }
CHARLES. Can't I marry? }
GORIOT. Bain't I right? }
NOTARY. Constracting parties.
CURATE. Possibly to-morrow at an early hour he may be more
perspicuous.
GORIOT. Ay, before he've time to get at it.
NOTARY. Unoffending jurisconsult overtaken by sorrow. Possibly
by applying justice of peace might afford relief.
MACAIRE. Bravo! }
DUMONT. Excellent! } TOGETHER.
CHARLES. Let's go at once! }
ALINE. The very thing! }
ERNESTINE. Yes, this minute!
GORIOT. I'll go. I don't mind getting advice, but I wun't take
it.
MACAIRE. My friends, one word: I perceive by your downcast
looks that you have not recognised the true nature of your
responsibility as citizens of time. What is care? impiety.
Joy? the whole duty of man. Here is an opportunity of duty it
were sinful to forego. With a word, I could lighten your hearts;
but I prefer to quicken your heels, and send you forth on your
ingenuous errand with happy faces and smiling thoughts, the
physicians of your own recovery. Fiddlers, to your catgut! Up,
Bertrand, and show them how one foots it in society; forward,
girls, and choose me every one the lad she loves; Dumont, benign
old man, lead forth our blushing Curate; and you, O bride,
embrace the uniform of your beloved, and help us dance in your
wedding-day. (DANCE, IN THE COURSE OF WHICH MACAIRE PICKS
DUMONT'S POCKET OF HIS KEYS, SELECTS THE KEY OF THE CASH-BOX, AND
RETURNS THE OTHERS TO HIS POCKET. IN THE END, ALL DANCE OUT:
THE WEDDING-PARTY, HEADED BY FIDDLERS, L. C; THE MAIDS AND ALINE
INTO THE INN, R. U. E. MANET BERTRAND AND MACAIRE.)