Tar. (stopping Orgon.) Gently, sir, gently; not so fast, I beg. You have not far to go to find a lodging, and you are a prisoner in the king’s name.
Org. Wretch! you had reserved this shaft for the last; by it you finish me, and crown all your perfidies.
Tar. Your abuse has no power to disturb me, and I know how to suffer every thing for the sake of heaven.
Clé. Your moderation is really great, we must acknowledge.
Da. How impudently the infamous wretch sports with heaven!
Tar. Your anger cannot move me. I have no other wish but to fulfill my duty.
Marianne. You may claim great glory from the performance of this duty: it is a very honorable employment for you.
Tar. The employment cannot be otherwise than glorious, when it comes from the power that sends me here.
Org. But do you remember that my charitable hand, ungrateful scoundrel, raised you from a state of misery?