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Orgon [crawling out
from under the table]
That is, I own, a man ... abominable!
I can’t get over it; the whole thing floors me.
Elmire
What? You come out so soon? You cannot mean it!
Get back under the table; ’tis not time yet;
Wait till the end, to see, and make quite certain,
And don’t believe a thing on mere conjecture.
Orgon
Nothing more wicked e’er came out of Hell.
Elmire
Dear me! Don’t go and credit things too lightly.
No, let yourself be thoroughly convinced;
Don’t yield too soon, for fear you’ll be mistaken.
[As Tartuffe enters, she makes her husband stand behind her.]