Act 2, Scene 12

In this scene, Hermocrate, an ascetic philosopher, confesses his love and his weakness to Phocion / Aspasie, a princess who has disguised both her identity and her sex. Hermocrate, who knows the truth of her gender but not her true identity, has been trying to get Phocion to depart, but she needs to stay in order to be able to capture the heart of her beloved, who lives sequestered at the philosopher's hermetic estate. To obtain the right to stay at the residence, Phocion has decided to convince Hermocrate that she is in love with him.

Though most of the dialogue is too long to be true marivaudage -- as has been noted by one of our correspondents -- in fact the basic elements are there. Hermocrate the philosopher uses reverse psychology, and even while he is claiming to be unworthy of love, he is showing a kind of heroism that is seductive in itself. Phocion / Aspasie responds in kind. The irony is of course that she is only using Hermocrate to get to her true love, the Prince Agis.
 

PHOCION: -- You appear at last, Hermocrate? In your efforts to dismiss the feelings which have captured my heart, have you thought at all of the state into which you would cast me? Besides, your strategies are not working: for all you’ve done I am but more sad, and but more in love than ever.

HERMOCRATE: -- Entirely different matters have retained me, Aspasie; but it’s no longer a question of your feelings. Your staying here is impossible; you would put yourself at peril, for Dimas knows who you are. Need more be said? – he knows the secret of your heart, he has overheard you. Let’s not entrust our destinies, neither mine nor yours, to the discretion of those he might tell! Your honor and reputation are in peril – there’s no choice for you but to withdraw.

PHOCION: -- Withdraw, Sir? Ahh! In what kind of state would you have me leave? With afflictions a thousand times compounded from what I had when I arrived! And what have you done to cure me? For what assistance in the banishment of my afflictions, can I be thankful to the wise Hermocrate?

HERMOCRATE: -- Your afflictions may well vanish once and for all after what I will now reveal to you. You’ve believed me wise; in that vision you’ve fallen in love with me; but I am not what you believe at all. A true sage would put his wisdom in the service of your well-being. By contrast, shall I tell you why I wish to send you back? It is because I am terrified your secret will come out into the open; that it will damage the esteem in which others hold me. I would send you away because I am fearful of not appearing virtuous – even though I no longer care whether I am or not; I would send you away because of false pride; I would send you away because I am but a clever forgery, a person to whom true wisdom is of less value than the contemptible and fraudulent caricature that I have made of it! That is the truth about the object of your ardor.

PHOCION: -- And never before has that object so deserved my admiration!

HERMOCRATE: -- How so?

PHOCION: -- Ah! Sir, have you no other fabrications to invent for me? By revealing your pitiless courage and the contempt in which you hold your passion, you do nothing but increase my ardor. You tell me you are unwise! Well! You’ve overwhelmed my reason and my senses with proof of the exact opposite!

HERMOCRATE: -- Wait, Madame. Do you believe me untouched by the ravages you've seen love wreak in the hearts of other men? How deceived you are! The basest soul, the most common lovers, the most folly-ridden youth, have not known my agitations! - worry, jealousies, ecstatic soarings, all have taken their turn with me! Do you recognize your Hermocrate in this portrait? You might well be confused, for the universe is filled with like images! Forsake therefore, Madame, the love of which anyone, chosen at random, is more worthy than am I.

PHOCION: -- No, once more I repeat it: if the gods were to indulge in weakness, they would do it in the manner of Hermocrate! Never has Hermocrate been of greater stature, never has he been more worthy of my love! You speak of my honor! Is there anything in my honor that is worthy of having caused the least of the agitations in your heart ? But, the deed is done: I will no longer need to implore you to set my heart at rest : by the very form of the confession you have made, you have already granted all I seek. You love me; I am calmed; I am enchanted. Our union is assured.

HERMOCRATE: -- There is only a word more to say, and it will be the end of the matter. I shall reveal your secret; I shall dishonor completely this man who now holds your admiration; and the resulting shock will even harm you, if you do not leave at once.

PHOCION: -- Oh, so be it! Sir, I shall leave; but I shall do so in the certainty of revenge: because you love me, your heart will be the avenger. Go on, cast me into despair; flee the tender love which would have made of your life a sweetness even while it now will make of mine a misery. Wield, if you will, the cruel wisdom to whose lasting reign of misfortune I will forever be captive. I came to petition you for refuge from the ravages of love; you’ve offered me none -- except to confess that you love me, too; and after that confession, which has only redoubled my affections, you are sending me away! The gods will abhor such wisdom, nourished at the expense of a young heart you’ve deceived, whose trust you’ve betrayed, whose honorable intentions you’ve scorned, a heart that has in the end merely served as the prey of your ferocious philosophies!

HERMOCRATE: -- Hold your voice, Madame – people are coming. 

PHOCION: -- You cast me into the abyss, and you wish me not to cry out!

HERMOCRATE: -- You touch me more deeply than you can know – but please, no outbursts!
 
 

Translation from Le Trimphe de l'Amour by Marivaux © 1999, Studios Saint-Sulpice.