Amphitryon - The flying doctor
Amphitryon - The flying doctorNotesPROLOGUEACT IACT IIACT IIITHE FLYING DOCTOR.NotesCopyright
Amphitryon - The flying doctor
Molière
Notes
Amphitryon was played for the first time in Paris, at the
Theatre du Palais-Royal, January 13, 1668. It was successfully
received, holding the boards until the 18th of March, when Easter
intervened. After the re-opening of the theatre, it was played half
a dozen times more the same year, and continued to please.
The first edition was published in 1668.
Note: It is perhaps hardly necessary to refer the reader to
Amphitryon, by Plautus, the comedy upon which Moliere's charming
play was, in the main, based. The rendering attempted here can give
but a faint reflection of the original, for hardly any comedy of
Moliere's loses more in the process of translation.
PROLOGUE
MERCURY, on a cloud; NIGHT, in a chariot drawn by two horses
MERC. Wait! Gentle Night; deign to stay awhile: Some help is needed
from you. I have two words to say to you from Jupiter.
NIGHT. Ah! Ah! It is you, Seigneur Mercury! Who would have thought
of you here, in that position?
MERC. Well, feeling tired, and not being able to fulfil the
different duties Jupiter ordered me, I quietly sat down on this
cloud to await your coming.
NIGHT. You jest, Mercury: you do not mean it; does it become the
Gods to say they are tired?
MERC. Are the Gods made of iron?
NIGHT. No; but one must always have a care for divine decorum.
There are certain words the use of which debases this sublime
quality, and it is meet that these should be left to men, because
they are unworthy.
MERC. You speak at your ease, fair lady, from a swiftly rolling
chariot, in which, like a dame free from care; you are drawn by two
fine horses wherever you like. But it is not the same with me. Such
is my miserable fate that I cannot bear the poets too great a
grudge for their gross impertinence in having, by an unjust law,
which they wish to retain in force, given a separate conveyance to
each God, for his own use, and left me to go on foot: me, like a
village messenger, though, as everyone knows, I am the famous
messenger of the sovereign of the Gods, on the earth and in the
heavens. Without any exaggeration, I need more than any one else
the means of being carried about, because of all the duties he puts
upon me.
NIGHT. What can one do? The poets do what pleases them. It is not
the only stupidity we have detected in these gentlemen. But surely
your irritation against them is wrong, for the wings at your feet
are a friendly gift of theirs.
MERC. Yes; but does going more quickly tire oneself less?
NIGHT. Let us leave the matter, Seigneur Mercury, and learn what is
wanted.
MERC. Jupiter, as I have told you, wishes the dark aid of your
cloak for a certain gallant adventure, which a new love affair has
furnished him. His custom is not new to you, I believe: often does
he neglect the heavens for the earth; and you are not ignorant that
this master of the Gods loves to take upon himself the guise of man
to woo earthly beauties. He knows a hundred ingenious tricks to
entrap the most obdurate. He has felt the darts of Alcmene's eyes;
and, whilst Amphitryon, her husband, commands the Theban troops on
the plains of Boeotia, Jupiter has taken his form, and assuaged his
pains, in the possession of the sweetest of pleasures. The
condition of the couple is propitious to his desire: Hymen joined
them only a few days ago; and the young warmth of their tender love
suggested to Jupiter to have recourse to this fine artifice. His
stratagem proved successful in this case; but with many a cherished
object a similar disguise would not be of any use: it is not always
a sure means of pleasing, to adopt the form, of a husband.
NIGHT. I admire Jupiter, and I cannot imagine all the disguises
which come into his head.
MERC. By these means he wishes to taste all sorts of conditions:
that is the act of a God who is not a fool. However mortals may
regard him, I should think very meanly of him if he never quitted
his redoubtable mien, and were always in the heavens, standing upon
his dignity. In my opinion, there is nothing more idiotic than
always to be imprisoned in one's grandeur; above all, a lofty rank
becomes very inconvenient in the transports of amorous ardour.
Jupiter, no doubt, is a connoisseur in pleasure, and he knows how
to descend from the height of his supreme glory. So that he can
enter into everything that pleases him, he entirely casts aside
himself, and then it is no longer Jupiter who appears.
NIGHT. I could overlook seeing him step down from his sublime stage
to that of men, since he wishes to enter into all the transports
which their natures can supply, and join in their jests, if, in the
changes which take his fancy, he would confine himself to nature.
But I do not think it fitting to see Jupiter as a bull, a serpent,
a swan, or what not, and it does not astonish me that it is
sometimes talked about.
MERC. Let all the busybodies talk; such changes have their own
charms and surpass people's understanding. The God knows what he
does in this affair as in everything else: in the movements of
their tender passions, animals are not so loutish as one might
think.
NIGHT. Let us return to the lady whose favours he enjoys. If, by
his stratagem, his pursuit is successful, what more can he wish?
What can I do?
MERC. He wishes that you would slacken the pace of your horses, to
satisfy the passion of his amorous heart, and so make of a
delightful night the longest night of all; that you would give him
more time for his transports, and retard the birth of day since it
will hasten the return of him whose place he occupies.
NIGHT. Really the employment which the great Jupiter reserves for
me is a worthy one! The service he requires of me passes under a
very respectable name.
MERC. You are somewhat old-fashioned for a young goddess! Such an
employment is not debasing except among people of mean birth. When
one has the happiness of belonging to lofty rank, whatever one does
is always right and good; things change their names to suit what
one may be.
NIGHT. You know more about such matters than I do; I will trust to
your enlightened views and accept this employment.
MERC. Come, come, now, Madam Night, a little gently, I beseech you.
The world gives you the reputation of not being so scrupulous. In a
hundred different climes you are made the confidant of many gallant
adventures; and, if I may speak candidly, we do not owe each other
anything.
NIGHT. Let us cease these reproaches and remain what we are. Let us
not give men cause to laugh by telling each other the truth.
MERC. Adieu. I am going there to play my part in this business,
promptly to strip myself of the form of Mercury and to take in its
place the figure of Amphitryon's valet.
NIGHT. I am going to keep station in this hemisphere with my sombre
train.
MERC. Good day, Night.
NIGHT. Adieu, Mercury.
(Mercury descends from his cloud to the earth, and Night goes away
in her chariot.)
END OF THE PROLOGUE.
ACT I
SCENE I SOSIE
Who goes there? Eh? My fear grows with every step. Gentlemen, I am
a friend to all the world. Ah! What unparalleled boldness, to be
out at this hour! My master is crowned with fame, but what a
villainous trick he plays me here! What? If he had any love for his
neighbour, would he have sent me out in such a black night? Could
he not just as well have waited until it was day before sending me
to announce his return and the details of his victory? To what
servitude are thy days subjected, Sosie! Our lot is far more hard
with the great than with the mean. They insist that everything in
nature should be compelled to sacrifice itself for them. Night and
day, hail, wind, peril, heat, cold, as soon as they speak we must
fly. Twenty years of assiduous service do not gain us any
consideration from them. The least little whim draws down upon us
their anger.
Notwithstanding this, our infatuated hearts cling to the empty
honour of remaining near them, contented with the false idea, which
every one holds, that we are happy. In vain reason bids us retire;
in vain our spite sometimes consents to this; to be near them is
too powerful an influence on our zeal, and the least favour of a
caressing glance immediately re-engages us. But at last, I see our
house through the darkness, and my fear vanishes.
I must prepare some thought-out speech for my mission. I must give
Alcmene warlike description of the fierce combat which put our
enemies to flight. But how the deuce can I do this since I was not
there? Never mind; let us talk of cut and thrust, as though I were
an eyewitness. How many people describe battles from which they
remained far away! In order to act my part without discredit, I
will rehearse it a little.
This is the chamber into which I am ushered as the messenger: this
lantern is Alcmene, to whom I have to speak. (He sets his lantern
on the ground and salutes it.) 'Madam, Amphitryon, my master and
your husband,... (Good! that is a fine beginning!) whose mind is
ever full of your charms, has chosen me from amongst all to bring
tidings of the success of his arms, and of his desire to be near
you.' 'Ah! Really, my poor Sosie, I am delighted to see you back
again.' 'Madam, you do me too much honour: my lot is an enviable
one.' (Well answered!)