ORGON, ELMIRE

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.)