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.

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..

Mademoiselle De Brie: But it can't be much fun seeing your work torn to shreds.

Moliere: What do I care? Didn't I get everything I wanted from my play? I was lucky — it appealed to the distinguished audience I was particularly eager to please. Don't you think I'm right to be happy with how it turned out? Can't you see that their attacks have come too late? It's out of my hands at this point. If people attack a successful play, they're attacking the audience who liked it, for their lack of judgement, not the art of the man who wrote the play, don't you see?