Act One

ARGAN’s study in his house in Paris. ARGAN is sitting in a combination wheelchair / commode. It has a table surface attached so that he can get on with his ‘work’ without getting up. It is obvious that he spends all day every day in it. In the pockets and recesses of the chair are secreted books on medicine, pills, potions, handkerchiefs etc. ARGAN is going through receipts and totalling the sums. When he gets a figure he writes it down.

ARGAN: Three francs plus two francs is five francs, and another five is ten, and another ten is twenty. Twenty francs?! What the hell…!?

    He refers to the detail of the bill.

    ‘Twenty-fourth of January, a penetrating, emollient exemplum to soften, moisten and enliven Monsieur’s rectum.’

    What I appreciate most about Doctor Purgon’s invoices is the poetry.

    ‘Anal vetting – thirty francs.’

    Thirty francs for a quick once over?! Any other part of the body is twenty francs! What’s he asking for? Danger money!? You’re getting ten francs.

    He writes that down.

    If you fancy yourself as a poet Purgon you should be employing your words to celebrate love, not to fleece the terminally ill.

    (Reading.) ‘That same day, a cleansing clyster’ – (huh! alliteration, that’ll be an extra ten francs) – ‘a cleansing clyster of wild Greek honey infused with roses designed to embellish and generally tidy up Monsieur’s fundament.’ Thirty francs? Nope! Ten.

    ‘The night of the twenty-fifth, a soporific, hepatic julep to assist Monsieur to sleep. Thirty-five cents.’ Credit where credit is due. I went out like a light. I’ll give you half.

    He writes that down.

    ‘Later on the twenty-fifth,’ – (it was a full day I remember) – ‘a bracing, purgative tonic composed of cayenne pepper, oriental senna’ – (oriental? that’ll be pricey) – ‘and a gill of Monsieur Popineau’s elixir – patent pending’ – (oh a secret ingredient – ching! ching!) – ‘to evacuate Monsieur’s bile.’ Five francs! Over my dead body! Three francs.

    He writes it down.

    ‘Twenty-sixth. Ten tablets of anti-flatulence clyster to excite the expulsion of Monsieur’s painful wind. Ten francs.’ Nope! Seven francs! Only seven of them worked.

    He writes it down.

    In fact I’m losing faith in Purgon. Today’s enema doesn’t seem to have worked either.

    Looking between his legs.

    Unless it was a quiet one. There might be something seriously wrong with me! Help! Toinette! I’m abandoned by my own servants!

    He rings a handbell.

    Toinette! They’ve all gone deaf!

    He throws the handbell at the door.

    Dinga linga ling! Dinga linga ling! I’m getting angry now. In this day and age, leaving a poor frail invalid dangerously stranded in his own home. Oh my God! They’ve left me here to die!

    He stands and screams.

    DINGA LINGA BLOODY LING!!!

    Enter TOINETTE, slowly, ARGAN jumps back into his chair looking pathetic again.

TOINETTE: Here we go again.

ARGAN: What kept you?!

TOINETTE: This is me rushing.

ARGAN: (With a hint of affection.) Lazy cow!

TOINETTE: (Suddenly holding her head.) Ah! My head. I banged my head on the shutters, back there, when I was rushing!

ARGAN: You neglected me.

TOINETTE: Can you see blood? Ohhh!

ARGAN: A whole hour –

TOINETTE: – I might die, it could be a brain tumour, or –

ARGAN: – Shut it will you! Now listen to me.

TOINETTE: – Concussion, maybe a –

ARGAN: – Be quiet! And listen! This is a ticking off. Now –

TOINETTE: Oh! After what I’ve just done to myself – rushing, I –

ARGAN: – I’ve lost my voice now!

TOINETTE: And I’ve cracked my head open, so shut up, we’re square!

ARGAN: Don’t talk to me like that!

TOINETTE: I’ll cry. Promise.

ARGAN: Today’s enema doesn’t –

TOINETTE: – Oh!

ARGAN: – Listen! You left me. Alone. In here when I’m –

TOINETTE: (Moaning.) – Ohh! Is the skin broken?

ARGAN: Stop bloody interrupting me will you!

TOINETTE: Criticize me all you like. I don’t think it matters any more.

ARGAN: I’m trying incredibly hard to tear a couple of strips off you but you keep interrupting me you big –

TOINETTE: – Yes?

ARGAN: – daft…

TOINETTE: – I’ll cry.

ARGAN: – lazy…fat…whore.

TOINETTE: Fat?

    He gets up from his chair which is revealed as an emergency commode.

ARGAN: What’s in the pan?

TOINETTE: Is this a game? I like games. A gold coin?

ARGAN: Insolent tart! I don’t think today’s enema has worked. Is there anything in there?

TOINETTE: I’m not poking my nose into Doctor Purgon’s business.

ARGAN: It is your job to take the pan away and empty it!

TOINETTE: I’ve found a way of doing it without making eye contact.

ARGAN: Just tell me what’s in there!

TOINETTE: (She has a look.) Nothing to write home about sir.

ARGAN: Nothing ‘substantial’ then?

TOINETTE: Quite a lot of number one.

ARGAN: Damn! I knew it. That enema he gave me this morning hasn’t worked. Take it away then.

    TOINETTE picks the bowl out of the chair. We see rather a lot of urine.

TOINETTE: If I take it away now, empty it, and wash it out carefully, and diligently, as I normally do. How are you going to manage if the enema suddenly starts to work?

ARGAN: It won’t. I’ve lost faith in the man. Go on!

    TOINETTE leaves. ARGAN sits again and continues his accounts.

    ‘Twenty-seventh. In order to hasten Monsieur to stool. A motivating, propellant enema, experimentally hand administered. Three francs.’ Payment in full. That one did work! Efficient, original and uniquely enjoyable. What more can we ask?

    He writes it down.

    ‘In addition,’ – (huh! obviously they don’t do ‘subtraction’ at medical school) – ‘a heart-strengthening preventative prophylactic’ – (ah, ah, tautology, you’re not getting away with that!) – ‘made from four strands of fox hair, one syrop of lemon and pomegranate, and some of the poisonous bit of an artichoke. Fifteen francs!’ Whoooa! Steady on Doctor Purgon. Carry on like that and no-one will want to be ill ever again! You’re getting five francs and you’ll be grateful.

    He writes it down.

    So, this month I’ve had one, two, three, four, five, six, seven – eight consultations, and one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Twelve enemas. Last month I had twelve consultations and twenty-one enemas! That’s it then! That’s why I feel worse this month! He’s deliberately neglecting me!

    Enter ANGELIQUE.

    Angelique, I want to talk to you. (Grips his stomach.) Agh!

ANGELIQUE: Yes father?

ARGAN: Ooo! Ah. Oooh! Hang on!

ANGELIQUE: What is it father?

ARGAN: Toinette! The bowl! Quick! Agh! Give me my stick!

    ANGELIQUE hands him his stick, which he grabs. He then runs out stage right. Enter TOINETTE stage left with clean bowl which she puts in the commode.

TOINETTE: Where is he?

ANGELIQUE: He got caught short.

    TOINETTE laughs.

    (Looking lovelorn.) Toinette?

TOINETTE: (Not looking at her.) Mmm?

ANGELIQUE: Toinette!?

TOINETTE: (Not looking at her.) What?

ANGELIQUE: Look at me! Toinette!

TOINETTE: What? What do you mean ‘Toinette’?

ANGELIQUE: Do you know what I want to talk about?

TOINETTE: Let me guess. On Sunday you told me that you’d met this boy Cleante. Monday you wanted to talk about Cleante; Tuesday you wanted to know why I thought Cleante had smiled at you. Wednesday – what did Cleante really mean when he said, ‘It’s very hot outdoors.’ Thursday – ‘Cleante is wearing a hat,’ do I think that’s significant? Today’s Friday. Er…Cleante?

ANGELIQUE: If you know, why don’t you raise the subject first, instead of me having to work my way round to it?

TOINETTE: I can’t usually get a word in edgeways.

ANGELIQUE: Do you disapprove of my feelings for him?

TOINETTE: No.

ANGELIQUE: Am I wrong to be obsessed with him?

TOINETTE: Nope.

ANGELIQUE: I could make it look like I don’t care about him?

TOINETTE: Huh.

ANGELIQUE: Agh! Talk to me about him! Say something! Have an opinion! Don’t you think there’s an element of fate, of destiny, in the unusual way in which we met.

TOINETTE: Yeah.

ANGELIQUE: At the fair, why would he spring to my defence like that without even knowing who I was? That must mean that he has some feelings for me?

TOINETTE: Yeah.

ANGELIQUE: Don’t you think that was one of the noblest things you’ve ever heard of?

TOINETTE: Yup.

ANGELIQUE: That brute could have punched him. Oh Toinette! Come on! He’s gorgeous isn’t he?

TOINETTE: Yeah.

ANGELIQUE: And funny. Oh, he’s so funny! Isn’t he?

TOINETTE: Yes.

ANGELIQUE: And what he said to me –

TOINETTE: – on Wednesday?

ANGELIQUE: Yes! Have you ever heard anything more romantic?

TOINETTE: No.

ANGELIQUE: But Toinette, what do I do?! I’m stuck here, and I have to obey my father.

TOINETTE: Yup.

ANGELIQUE: You know what Cleante has said to me. Do you think he’s telling the truth?

TOINETTE: He’s a man.

ANGELIQUE: Oh, if he’s lying I’ll never believe another man in my life!

TOINETTE: You’ll have learnt an important lesson then.

    Enter ARGAN.

    Anybody injured?

ARGAN: Watch it you. Angelique! I’ve had an approach. This may come as a shock. Someone wants to marry you.

ANGELIQUE: Oh!

ARGAN: It’s a good thing, generally, marriage. Women like it. It seems to come naturally to them. Is that alright with you then? Getting married?

ANGELIQUE: It is my duty, my obligation as a daughter, to please my father.

ARGAN: Good. That’s a relief. I’ve already said yes, you see.

ANGELIQUE: What pleases you pleases me.

ARGAN: Your step-mother wanted to send you and your sister off to a nunnery. She’s been on about that for a while.

TOINETTE: I wonder why sir?

ARGAN: Eh? She didn’t want me to agree to the marriage, but I got my own way. For once, huh!

ANGELIQUE: Thank you father! You’re so good to me.

ARGAN: Yes, I am aren’t I.

TOINETTE: It’s the wisest thing you’ve ever done.

ARGAN: One little proviso – I’ve never met the boy.

ANGELIQUE: Oh you’ll be pleased father.

ARGAN: What? You’ve met him?

ANGELIQUE: Six days ago, at the fair, he rescued me from a man who was pestering me. We’re in…there is a strong mutual attraction.

ARGAN: Good, I hear he’s a well built lad.

ANGELIQUE: Yes.

ARGAN: With a pleasant manner.

ANGELIQUE: Very pleasant.

ARGAN: Good looking with it.

ANGELIQUE: Very good looking.

ARGAN: Intelligent, apparently, and from a good family?

ANGELIQUE: Absolutely.

ARGAN: It’ll be good to have someone in the family who speaks fluent Greek.

    TOINETTE and ANGELIQUE swap glances.

ANGELIQUE: Does he?

ARGAN: Course he does. In three days time he’s going to qualify as a doctor.

ANGELIQUE: Who told you that?

ARGAN: Doctor Purgon. He’s Doctor Purgon’s nephew.

ANGELIQUE: Cleante is not Doctor Purgon’s nephew.

ARGAN: Who the hell is Cleante? You’re marrying Thomas Diafoirerhoea, Doctor Purgon’s nephew, the son of his brother-in-law, Doctor Diafoirerhoea, who is also a doctor, naturally. They’re all doctors.

ANGELIQUE: We’ve been talking about a different person then.

    ANGELIQUE runs off into a corner and cries.

TOINETTE: You’re a very rich man, you’ve no need to marry your daughter off to a mere doctor.

ARGAN: What the bloody hell’s it got to do with you, you nosy cow?

TOINETTE: Oh yeah, swearing’s gonna help! Let’s talk about this calmly. What is the reason for this marriage?

ARGAN: It would be good for me to have a son-in-law, and relatives who are doctors. I’m extremely ill and it would be useful to have immediate access to consultations and remedies from within the family. Be a lot cheaper too.

TOINETTE: At least you’re honest. But, are you really ill?

ARGAN: (Forcefully.) Am I ill? It’s a miracle I’m still alive! You stupid bitch!

TOINETTE: Alright, alright! Actually, I think you’re sicker than you think you are.

ARGAN: Do you? God, I think you might be right.

TOINETTE: But your daughter is not ill, and so there’s no need for her to marry a doctor.

ARGAN: She’s going to marry a doctor for ME. A daughter who truly loves her father would do anything to improve his health.

TOINETTE: Don’t even think about this marriage.

ARGAN: Why not?

TOINETTE: Your daughter will not consent to it. She doesn’t want to have anything to do with Thomas Diafoirerhoea, his father, or any of the Doctor Diafoirerhoeas.

ARGAN: I want to have a lot to do with them. Anyhow, it’s a damn good match in more ways than one. Thomas Diafoirerhoea will inherit everything, he’s the only son, AND, Doctor Purgon has neither wife nor children so will give this Thomas character everything, EVERYTHING, the moment he marries! And Doctor Purgon has got eight thousand francs in the bank, most of which was mine at one time, before I got ill.

TOINETTE: She won’t marry him, she wasn’t made to be Mrs Diafoirerhoea.

ARGAN: I am her father.

TOINETTE: Oh don’t be like that.

ARGAN: It is my wish. I’ve given my word already.

TOINETTE: She won’t do it.

ARGAN: I’ll put her in a convent then.

TOINETTE: You wouldn’t.

ARGAN: I would!

TOINETTE: You couldn’t!

ARGAN: I could! Who’s going to stop me?

TOINETTE: Yourself.

ARGAN: Me?

TOINETTE: You wouldn’t have the heart. You’d be overcome with paternal tenderness.

ARGAN: No I would not!

TOINETTE: A bit of ‘oh my darling daddy please’.

ARGAN: It wouldn’t work, not with me.

TOINETTE: The first little tear and you’d give in.

ARGAN: I wouldn’t budge an inch!

TOINETTE: You know you would! You’re a bit of a softie really!

ARGAN: (Standing, grabbing his stick.) How dare you call me ‘a bit of a softie’!? I am actually a complete and utter bastard as a father!

TOINETTE: Don’t forget you’re ill.

ARGAN: I categorically order her to prepare for the marriage!

TOINETTE: And I categorically forbid you to order her to do something she doesn’t want to do!

ARGAN: What?! A tart of a servant?! Ordering her master about!? This is the end!

TOINETTE: When the master is obviously deluded it is the servant’s duty to save him.

ARGAN: (Now chasing TOINETTE with the stick.) You insolent bitch! I’ve been looking forward to this.

TOINETTE: It’s my job not to let you make a fool of yourself.

ARGAN: Cow!

TOINETTE: I will do everything in my power to stop her marrying this Thomas Diafoirerhoea.

ARGAN: Scheming hermaphrodite!

TOINETTE: She’s more inclined to obey me on this one than you.

ARGAN: Angelique! Don’t just stand there! Grab hold of her!

ANGELIQUE: Father, don’t get so excited.

ARGAN: Agh! What was that? Oh my God, my heart missed a beat.

    He sits, holding his chest.

    I’m tightening up. Don’t leave me like this. Agh! It’s my heart! I’ve definitely got heart trouble.

TOINETTE: The only trouble with your heart is that it’s not big enough.

    TOINETTE and ANGELIQUE leave.

ARGAN: Oh my God! Darling!! Beline!! Help!!

    Enter BELINE.

BELINE: What’s the matter poppet?

ARGAN: They’re making me angry! My heart skipped a beat.

BELINE: Oh baby, you poor thing.

ARGAN: That Toinette, she’s vicious, she’s driving me mad.

BELINE: I’m here now.

ARGAN: She’s spent the last hour ridiculing me, my life, and everything I’ve ever stood for. She even said I’m not really ill. Ha!

BELINE: Really?

ARGAN: My dear darling wife, what would I do without you?

BELINE: There, there, there.

    ARGAN feels her bottom. She clips him.

    Naughty boy! You know you’re not supposed to –

ARGAN: – But darling –

BELINE: – Doctor Purgon told me your bad humours will bubble to the top if you get aroused.

ARGAN: (Touching her again.) He never told me that.

BELINE: Stop it! He specifically said you’re not allowed anything, in that department. You can touch but you can’t feel.

ARGAN: What’s the difference?

BELINE: Everything.

ARGAN: But I need a son and heir?

BELINE: Purgon told me that intense physical activity combined with extreme emotion could be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Doing it would kill you.

ARGAN: Damn!

BELINE: Now tell me, what’s this about Toinette?

ARGAN: That woman’ll be the death of me.

    BELINE crosses her fingers behind his back in a ‘let’s hope so’ gesture.

BELINE: Don’t exaggerate darling.

ARGAN: You know all that vile foul smelling bile I cough up nowadays. That’s her.

BELINE: Oh didums.

ARGAN: I’ve asked you to sack her.

BELINE: Oh come on sugar. She’s clever, resourceful, careful, honest and most of all loyal, and nowadays that’s a rare quality.

    (Fiercely.) TOINETTE!!!

    Enter TOINETTE.

    I understand you’ve been abusing my husband?!

TOINETTE: Madam! Me, abuse your husband?! The seven seas would run dry before I would allow him to suffer a moment’s discomfort at my hand.

ARGAN: Snake!

TOINETTE: He wants to marry Angelique to a doctor. I said I thought that that was a very good idea. But that he’d be better off sending her to a nunnery.

BELINE: (To ARGAN.) You see, that’s good advice.

ARGAN: She’s scheming!

BELINE: Are we going to calm down, or does mommy have to make you calm down?

    She starts arranging pillows around ARGAN.

    Listen Toinette, you want to watch your step. I’ll have you thrown out. Get some more pillows, and his coat. Come on this is your job!

    (To ARGAN, pulling him about.) Keep your bonnet right down. Pneumonia starts when you get air in your ears.

ARGAN: Oh darling, thank you. At least I can rely on you.

BELINE: (Arranging pillows.) Lift up. One behind your back, and one for your little head.

    TOINETTE shoves a pillow over his head and makes to suffocate him.

TOINETTE: And this one to save you from the damp!

    TOINETTE leaves.

ARGAN: Did you see that!? She tried to kill me!

BELINE: No, no, no.

ARGAN: You do not have the faintest idea how astonishingly wicked that woman can be. I’m very frail!

BELINE: There, there, my little one.

ARGAN: You know darling, you’re my only real comfort in this life.

BELINE: Oh my poor little boy!

ARGAN: To try to thank you for all your love and dedication, as I’ve said, I’d like to make a will.

BELINE: Oh no! Darling, please! Don’t talk about such horrible things!

ARGAN: With my health as it is, one has to be pragmatic about money.

BELINE: But when you love someone money’s the last thing one thinks about. The very word. Money! Ugh!

ARGAN: I know this is difficult for you but I asked you to talk to your legal advisor friend. Did you remember to do that?

BELINE: He’s in the lobby.

ARGAN: Oh? Excellent! Bring him in.

BELINE: Monsieur Bonnefoi! You can come in now!

    Enter BONNEFOI.

ARGAN: Forgive me, I can’t get up, I’m rather weak. My wife tells me that you are an honest man and a close friend?

BONNEFOI: I first had the pleasure of providing a service to her last spring, and since then we have been firm friends.

ARGAN: Good. Have you given her any good advice about my will?

BELINE: (Swooning.) Agh! I can’t bring myself to think about it.

BONNEFOI: I’ve looked into it and I must advise you that you cannot, according to the law, leave your wife anything in your will.

ARGAN: That’s crazy.

BONNEFOI: Yes, it is, but it is also the law of France. The only thing you can do is bestow a gift whilst both parties are still alive. Additionally, there should be no dependent children of the marriage on the death of either party.

ARGAN: What?! I can’t leave anything at all to this woman who has selflessly and faithfully cared for me through thick and thin. I think I’d better talk to my own lawyer.

BONNEFOI: Lawyers tend to lack imagination when it comes to the law. Lawyers take the law at face value. Now, there are other people you can talk to who are a bit more flexible in these matters, and who are adept at finding ways round the law, shall we say.

ARGAN: Who are they?

BONNEFOI: Solicitors.

ARGAN: And you’re a –

BONNEFOI: – solicitor.

ARGAN: Well, that makes everything easier! My wife was right when she described you as a brilliant and thoroughly honest man. So, let’s not beat around the bush, how do I go about leaving all my wealth to my wife and keep it from my daughters.

BONNEFOI: One thing that you can do is get your wife to choose a reliable, trusted male friend –

ARGAN: – a male friend of hers?

BONNEFOI: Yes, a trusted male friend of hers, and then you leave everything in the will to him.

ARGAN: I don’t see how that works.

BONNEFOI: The friend gives all the money back to your wife.

ARGAN: When?

BONNEFOI: When you die.

ARGAN: Oh I see!

BELINE: Agh! This talk of death, and dying, wills and MONEY. I can’t bear it!

    BELINE starts crying.

ARGAN: Darling! Please, calm yourself. You’re making things worse.

BELINE: But imagine – LIFE – without you! The thought! Ugh! I can’t breathe!

BONNEFOI: Naturally, you can give your wife any number of gifts whilst you’re still alive.

BELINE: I want nothing! If anything happens to you my darling, I don’t think I could bear to live another day. Look! I’m shaking.

ARGAN: Beline! Precious! It’s upsetting enough this business. You’re breaking my heart!

BONNEFOI: Your tears are premature, Beline.

BELINE: Monsieur Bonnefoi, I cannot begin to describe the love I feel for this poor sick man. He’s not only a dear loving husband, he’s also my best friend. To lose him…ugh!…to wake up without…ugh!…oh no…I think I’m going to faint!

BONNEFOI: Sit!

ARGAN: Enough! Let’s make out the will as Monsieur Bonnefoi advises but, to be on the safe side, how about if I give you twenty thousand francs in gold immediately, and, also I’ve got two quite substantial bearer bonds which I could sign over to you. What do you think?

BELINE: I don’t want anything to do with any of this horrid business! How much gold?

ARGAN: Twenty thousand.

BELINE: Ughagh! Do we really have to talk about this, I get so upset! What are the bonds worth?

ARGAN: The two together, ten thousand francs.

BELINE: Ughagh!! All the money in the world could not compensate for the loss of your love.

BONNEFOI: Shall we do the will now?

ARGAN: Why not?! Strike while the iron’s hot, eh! Let’s go to my study.

BELINE: Let me push you, my darling. It’s the least I can do.

    ARGAN, BONNEFOI and BELINE exit. In the wings TOINETTE and ANGELIQUE linger.

TOINETTE: That’s her solicitor. They’re talking about wills. Your step-mother isn’t wasting any time is she? Whatever it is they’re up to, I have no doubt it has to be against your best interests. I’ve never liked her.

ANGELIQUE: Why don’t you like her?

TOINETTE: I don’t like her for the same reason I don’t keep a bucket of sick in the corner of my room.

ANGELIQUE: I don’t care if he gives her all his money, as long as he doesn’t give away my heart. Oh Toinette, I am lost! I am in a hopeless position. What can we do?

TOINETTE: I’ve got a plan. But we need him to listen to someone. Who does he respect?

ANGELIQUE: Er…well…no-one…my godfather, his brother. He might listen to him.

TOINETTE: Yes! Beralde. I’ll get a message to him. It may begin to look as if I’m in agreement with your father and step-mother, but I want you to know that my loyalty to you is total.

ANGELIQUE: Can I trust you?

TOINETTE: You’re going to have to, I’m all you’ve got.

    They hug.

    End of Act One.