Le Malade Imaginaire (The Imaginary Invalid) is a masterpiece. André Gide thought it “the” masterpiece. It is an astonishing compilation of comedic knowledge, a beautifully structured plot, and astonishingly alive characters; it is Molière's last word in confronting private agonies with public laughter. The private moments now are not about Armande; his attention is not on new forms of theater; he is not writing pure farce for the “joy” of it, or fashioning perfect verse lines for the old themes of hypocrisy and societal foolishness. He is now facing Death at the core of his being. And he turns it into the perfect subject for laughter. That's his job.

Way back in time when he was on tour in southern France, Molière began by playing little farces about flying doctors. They were sketches for comic lazzi inspired by the Italians. They were mostly action, few words and very close to improvisation. His last would-be doctor begins with a page-long scripted analysis of various kinds of medical enemas and their exact ingredients.

Before the imaginary invalid speaks, however, there is a long section of music and dance by a large cast. Molière continued the court entertainment convention of Versailles and called it a comedy with a mêlée – a free-for-all, a mix-up, a confused brawl – of music and dance. He hired twelve musicians and seven singers and, for the first time, he premiered a musical comedy work at his own theater instead of at the court.