The Misanthrope

Betrayed and wronged in everything, I’ll flee this bitter world where vice is king, And seek some spot unpeopled and apart Where I’ll be free to have an honest heart.

My hate is general, I detest all men; Some because they are wicked and do evil, Others because they tolerate the wicked, Refusing them the active vigorous scorn Which vice should stimulate in virtuous minds.

I have the defect of being more sincere than persons wish.

Each day my reason tells me so; But reason doesn't rule in love, you know.

I become quite melancholy and deeply grieved to see men behave to each other as they do. Everywhere I find nothing but base flattery, injustice , self-interest, deceit and roguery. I cannot bear it any longer; I'm furious; and my intention is to break with all mankind.

There is nothing I detest so much as the contortions of these great time-and-lip servers, these affable dispensers of meaningless embraces, these obliging utterers of empty words, who view every one in civilities

We ought to punish pitilessly that shameful pretence of friendly intercourse. I like a man to be a man, and to show on all occasions the bottom of his heart in his discourse. Let that be the thing to speak, and never let our feelings be beneath vain compliments

You may plainly perceive the traitor through his mask; he is well-known everywhere in his true colors; his rolling eyes and his honeyed tones impose only on those who do not know him.

You may plainly perceive the traitor through his mask; he is well known every-where in his true colors; his rolling eyes and his honeyed tones impose only on those who do not know him. People are aware that this low-bred fellow, who deserves to be pilloried, has, by the dirtiest jobs, made his way in the world; and that the splendid position he has acquired makes merit repine and virtue blush. Yet whatever dishonourable epithets may be launched against him everywhere, nobody defends his wretched honour. Call him a rogue, an infamous wretch, a confounded scoundrel if you like, all the world will say “yea, ” and no one contradicts you. But for all that, his bowing and scraping are welcome everywhere; he is received, smiled upon, and wriggles himself into all kinds of society; and, if any appointment is to be secured by intriguing, he will carry the day over a man of the greatest worth. Zounds! these are mortal stabs to me, to see vice parleyed with; and sometimes times I feel suddenly inclined to fly into a wilderness far from the approach of men.

If perchance a friend should betray you; if he forms a subtle plot to get hold of what is yours; if people should try to spread evil reports about you, would you tamely submit to all this without flying into a rage?

The world will not alter for all your meddling.

your humour, madam, Gives any and everyone too easy access Into your heart. You have too many lovers Besieging you—a thing I can't endure.

If the king had given me for my own Paris, his citadel, And I for that must leave alone Her whom I love so well, I'd say then to the Crown Take back your glittering town My darling is more fair, I swear. My darling is more fair.

That any gentleman should always keep In stern control this writing itch we’re seized with; That he must hold in check the great impatience We feel to give the world these idle pastimes; For, through this eagerness to show our works, 'Tis likely we shall cut a foolish figure.

Flatterers are always to blame for the vices which prevail among mankind

Good sense avoids all extremes, and requires us to be soberly rational. This unbending and virtuous stiffness of ancient times shocks too much the ordinary customs of our own; it requires too great perfection from us mortals; we must yield to the times without being too stubborn; it is the height of folly to busy ourselves in correcting the world.

Hé quoi ? vous ne ferez nulle distinction Entre l'hypocrisie et la dévotion? Vous les voulez traiter d'un semblable langage, Et rendre même honneur au masque qu'au visage, Égaler l'artifice à la sincérité, Confondre l'apparence avec la vérité, Estimer le fantôme autant que la personne, Et la fausse monnaie à l'égal de la bonne ? Les hommes la plupart sont étrangement faits ! Dans la juste nature on ne les voit jamais ; La raison a pour eux des bornes trop petites ; En chaque caractère ils passent ses limites ; Et la plus noble chose, ils la gâtent souvent Pour la vouloir outrer et pousser trop avant.

Alle Menschen sind mir in solchem Maße verhasst, dass es mich ärgern würde, wenn ich in ihren Augen weise wäre

Et leur conclusion fut, que vous feriez bien, De prendre moins de soin des actions des autres, Et de vous mettre, un peu, plus en peine des vôtres. Qu'on doit se regarder soi-même, un fort long temps, Avant que de songer à condamner les gens

PHILINTE: Il est bien des endroits, où la pleine franchise Deviendrait ridicule, et serait peu permise; Et, parfois, n'en déplaise à votre austère honneur, Il est bon de cacher ce qu'on a dans le cœur. Serait-il à propos, et de la bienséance, De dire à mille gens tout ce que d'eux, on pense? Et quand on a quelqu'un qu'on hait, ou qui déplaît, Lui doit-on déclarer la chose comme elle est? ALCESTE: Ouy..

But reason does not govern love.