University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

DEMIPHO.

SCENE II.

Enter LYSIMACHUS and SERVANT.
Lysim.
(to Servant)
Now by my troth, I'll have that old goat gelt,
That gives me so much trouble in the country.

Dem.
(behind)
Oh horrid omen! dreadful augury!
I wish my wife don't treat me like this Goat,
And act the part of that same Ape I dreamt of.

Lysim.
(to Servant.)
Go you directly to my country-house,
And see that you deliver up those rakes
Into my farmer Pistus his own hands.
Let my wife know, she is not to expect me,
As I have business keeps me here in town;
Say, I've three causes coming on to-day.
Go, and remember.

Serv.
Nothing else, Sir?

Lysim.
Nothing.

[Exit Serv.
Dem.
(coming up)
Save you, Lysimachus!

Lysim.
Ha, Demipho!
Save you: how is't? how goes it?

Dem.
Wretchedly.

Lysim.
The Gods forbid!

Dem.
'Tis the Gods' doing.

Lysim.
What?

Dem.
I'd tell you, if I saw you were at leisure.

Lysim.
Nay, tho' I'm busy, tell me, Demipho:
I've always leisure to assist my friend.

Dem.
I know your friendly nature by experience.
—How old do I appear to you?

Lysim.
So old,
That you have one foot in the grave; quite aged;
Tottering beneath the weight of years; decrepid.

Dem.
You're blind: I am a child, Lysimachus,
A child of sev'n years old.

Lysim.
Of sev'n years old!
You're mad.

Dem.
'Tis true.

Lysim.
Oh, now I guess your meaning.
When a man reaches the last stage of life,
“Sans sense, sans taste, sans eyes, sans every thing,”
They say that he is grown a child again.

Dem.
Nay, nay, but I'm in better health than ever.

Lysim.
Well done! I'm glad on't.

Dem.
And if you knew all,
My eyes are better than they ever were.

Lysim.
Very well!

Dem.
Very ill, Sir.

Lysim.
Very ill then.

Dem.
But may I dare to tell you?

Lysim.
Boldly.

Dem.
Hear then!

Lysim.
I'm all attention.

Dem.
On this very day
I've been to school to learn the alphabet.
I know four letters.

Lysim.
What four letters?

Dem.
LOVE.

Lysim.
Love, you old fool! with that grey head, you dotard!

Dem.
Grey head, or red head, or black head, I love.

Lysim.
You mean to play upon me, Demipho.

Dem.
Cut off my head, if what I say be false:
Or, that you may be certain that I love,
Take a knife, cut my finger, or my ear,
My nose, or lip; and if I shrink, or wince,
Or feel that I am cut, Lysimachus,
I'll give you leave to kill me for my love.

Lysim.
If you have ever seen, or wish to see
The picture of a lover, this is he.
For in my mind an old, decrepid, dotard
Is but a painted sign upon a wall.

Dem.
This, I suppose, is meant to punish me.

Lysim.
I punish you?

Dem.
I don't deserve reproof.
Many great men have done the same before.
'Tis natural to all mankind to love:
'Tis natural to all mankind to pardon.
Upbraid me not; I love against my will.

Lysim.
I don't upbraid you.

Dem.
Nay, but do not hold me
The less in your esteem on this account.

Lysim.
Ah! heav'n forbid I should!

Dem.
Take care!

Lysim.
I will.

Dem.
But certainly?

Lysim.
You pester me.—This man
Is mad with love.—Would you aught else?

Dem.
Your servant!

Lysim.
I'm going to the Port: I've business there,

Dem.
A pleasant walk to you!

Lysim.
Farewel.

Dem.
Farewel!

[Exit Lysimachus.

SCENE III.

DEMIPHO
alone.
I have some business at the Port myself:
I'll thither.—But I see my son. Good! good!
I'll wait his coming; and I must consider
Which way I shall endeavour to persuade him
To fell this wench, not give her to his mother,
For whom I hear he bought her as a present.
But it behoves me to be wary, lest
He find I've set my heart upon the girl.

SCENE IV.

Enter at a distance CHARINUS.
Cha.
Never, I verily believe, was man
So miserable as myself, so cross'd.
Whate'er I undertake, I can't effect;
Whatever wish I form, I can't accomplish:
Some evil fortune comes across me still,
Destroying my best counsels.—What a wretch!
I purchas'd me a mistress to my liking,
Thinking I could conceal her from my father.
He has discover'd, seen her, and undone me.
Nor have I yet determin'd what to say,
When he enquires; so many different thoughts
Fight in my breast, I have not pow'r to chuse,
But my care's doubled by uncertainty.
Sometimes I like my servant's counsel well;
And then again I like it not; and think
My father never can believe I purchas'd
This woman to attend upon my mother.
Then if I tell the real truth, and own
I bought the girl upon my own account,
What will he think of me? He'll rob me of her,
And send her back beyond sea to be sold.
I am not now to learn his cruelty,
Too well convinc'd on't e'er I went from home.
—And is this love then? better plow, than love.
He thrust me forth from home against my will
To trade abroad; and there this evil seiz'd me.
What joy's in that, whose pain exceeds the pleasure?
In vain I hid, conceal'd, and kept her secret.
My father, like a fly, is every where,
Enters all places, sacred, or profane:
And I have lost all confidence, all hope.

Dem.
(behind)
What is't my son is muttering to himself?
He seems uneasy.

Cha.
(seeing him)
Ha! my father here!
I'll go and speak to him. (Going up)
How do you, Sir?

Dem.
Whence come you? Why are you so flutter'd, son?

Cha.
Nothing.

Dem.
I'm glad to hear it.—But what now?
You turn pale.—Are you sick?

Cha.
A little, Sir.
I did not sleep extremely well last night.

Dem.
Having been out so long at sea, your head
Turns round now you're on shore.

Cha.
I fancy so.

Dem.
Ay, ay, that's it: but it will soon go off.
That is the reason of your turning pale:
Go home then, if you're wise, and rest yourself.

Cha.
I have not time: I've business to look after.

Dem.
Do that to-morrow, or some other day.

Cha.
I've often heard you say, Sir, that wise men
Should take care to dispatch their business first.

Dem.
Well, follow your own way: I'll not oppose you.

Cha.
(Aside)
Let him but stick to that, I'm safe enough.

Dem.
(Aside)
What is it he's consulting by himself?
I'm not afraid of his discovering me;
Since I've done nothing foolish or absurd,
As men in love are apt to do.

Cha.
(Aside)
I'm safe.
'Tis plain that he knows nothing of my mistress;
For if he did, he would talk otherwise.

Dem.
(Aside)
I'll speak to him about her.

Cha.
(Aside)
I'll walk off.
(Aloud)
I'll go and execute my friends' commissions.

Dem.
Stay, son; not yet: I want to ask you something
Before you go.

Cha.
What is your pleasure, Sir?

Dem.
(after hesitating)
How have you had your health since you've been gone?

Cha.
Very well, all the time I was abroad:
But coming into Port, turn'd strangely sick.

Dem.
Sea-sickness, I suppose: 'twill soon away.
—But prithee tell me, have not you brought home
A slave from Rhodes to wait upon your mother?

Cha.
I have.

Dem.
And is she beautiful?

Cha.
Not ugly.

Dem.
And well behav'd?

Cha.
Extremely well, I think.

Dem.
Why truly, when I saw her, so she seem'd.

Cha.
What! have you seen her, father?

Dem.
I have seen her:
But she'll not do for us, she's not the thing.

Cha.
Why so?

Dem.
Her person is too delicate.
We want a lusty servant-wench, to weave,
Grind-corn, cut wood, spin, sweep the house, be cudgel'd,
And cook the dinner for the family.
This girl's not fit for any of these uses.

Cha.
The very reason that I purchas'd her,
As a genteeler present for my mother.

Dem.
No, no: don't give her; do not say you've brought her.

Cha.
Heav'n favours me! (Aside)


Dem.
I shake him by degrees. (Aside)

(To Cha.)
Besides, tho' I forgot to mention it,
Such an attendant could not decently
Follow your mother, nor will I allow it.

Cha.
Why so?

Dem.
Because it would be scandalous
To see a girl so handsome in the street,
After the mistress of a family.
The folks would gaze, and stare, and wink and beckon,
Hiss her, and twitch her by the sleeve, call to her,
Grow rude, sing catches underneath her window,
And scrawl her praise with coal upon our doors.
And as the world is given to detraction,
They'd say my wife and I were turn'd procurers.
Now where is the occasion for all this?

Cha.
You're in the right: I'm quite of your opinion.
—But how shall we dispose her then?

Dem.
I'll tell you.
I'll buy your mother a stout strapping wench,
Some Syrian or Ægyptian, plain and homely,
Fit for the mistress of a family;
And she shall grind, and spin, and take a whipping,
And bring no shame or scandal to our door.

Cha.
Suppose then I return this girl to him,
Of whom I purchas'd her?

Dem.
On no account.

Cha.
He said he'd take her back, if not approv'd of.

Dem.
There's no occasion for it; no occasion.
I would not make a difference betwixt you,
Nor have your faith and honour call'd in question:
And I would rather, if 'twere necessary,
Endure some little loss, than have this woman
Bring a disgrace and scandal on our house.
But I believe that I can sell her for you,
And make a tolerable market too.

Cha.
At no less price than I paid for her, father.

Dem.
Peace! an old gentleman of my acquaintance
Commission'd me, some little time ago,
To purchase for him such a girl as this.

Cha.
But a young man of my acquaintance, Sir,
Commission'd me to purchase one for him.

Dem.
I think, I can have twenty Minæ for her.

Cha.
But, if I pleas'd, I could have sev'n and twenty
Paid down immediately.

Dem.
But I—

Cha.
But I—

Dem.
Peace! you don't know what I was going to say:
I can bid up three Minæ more; that's thirty.

(Looking on one side.
Cha.
Whom are you turning to?

Dem.
The purchaser.

Cha.
Where is the gentleman?

Dem.
I see him yonder:
He bids me add five Minæ more.

Cha.
Plague take him,
Whoe'er he be! (Apart)


Dem.
He nods to me again:
Six Minæ more!

Cha.
Sev'n more!—I am resolv'd
He shan't exceed me. My chap bids the fairest.

Dem.
Bid what he will, I'll have her.

Cha.
Mine bid first.

Dem.
No matter.

Cha.
He bids fifty.

Dem.
For a hundred
He shall not have her. Why d'ye bid against me?
You'll have a noble bargain; the old man,
For whom I purchase her, is such a dotard:
He's mad for love of her; and you shall have
Your price, ask what you will.

Cha.
Indeed, indeed, Sir,
The youth, for whom I buy, is dying for her.

Dem.
The old man, if you knew him, is much fonder.

Cha.
The old man never was, and never will be,
More mad for love than this young fellow, Sir.

Dem.
Have done: I'll manage this.

Cha.
What mean you?

Dem.
How!

Cha.
I did not take this woman as a slave.

Dem.
But he will take her as a slave: so let him.

Cha.
You have no right to set her up to sale.

Dem.
I'll mind that matter.

Cha.
Then too she belongs
To me in common with another man:
And how am I to judge of his intentions,
Whether he means to part with her, or no?

Dem.
I know he will.

Cha.
But I know one that won't.

Dem.
What's that to me?

Cha.
Because he has a right
To challenge the disposal of his own.

Dem.
What do you say?

Cha.
I say that she is mine
In common with another, not now present.

Dem.
You answer me, before I ask the question.

Cha.
You buy my slave, before I sell her, father:
I don't know if my friend and partner in her
Chuses to part with her, or no.

Dem.
How then
Can t'other man commission you to purchase,
When he don't chuse to sell? You trifle with me.
No man shall have her but the man I mean,
I am resolv'd.

Cha.
You are resolv'd?

Dem.
I am.
Moreover, I'll directly to the ship,
And there she shall be sold.

Cha.
Shall I go with you?

Dem.
No.

Cha.
You don't chuse it?

Dem.
You had better stay,
And look to the commission you are charg'd with.

Cha.
You won't allow me?

Dem.
No. Excuse yourself,
And tell your friend that you have done your best.
But come not to the Port, I charge you.

Cha.
No, Sir.

Dem.
(Aside)
I'll to the Port myself, and left my son
Discover my proceedings, use great caution.
I will not purchase her myself; but trust
My friend Lysimachus to buy her for me.
He said that he was going to the Port.
I'll to him, without further loss of time.

[Exit.

SCENE V.

CHARINUS
alone.
Death and confusion! ruin'd and undone!
They say, the Bacchanals tore Pentheus piece-meal:
Ah, he was never half so torn as I am!
Why do I live? why, why am I not dead?
I'll go and seek out an apothecary,
And kill myself with poison; being robb'd
Of that, for which alone I wish to live.

(Going.

SCENE VI.

Enter EUTYCHUS.
Eut.
Hold, hold, Charinus!

Cha.
Who calls?

Eut.
Eutychus.
Your friend, companion, neighbour, Eutychus.

Cha.
Ah! you don't know the griefs I labour under.

Eut.
I do: from our door I have heard it all.
I know the whole affair.

Cha.
What is't you know?

Eut.
Your father means to sell—

Cha.
You're right.

Eut.
Your mistress—

Cha.
You're but too well inform'd.

Eut.
Against your will.

Cha.
You know too much: but how did you discover
She was my mistress?

Eut.
You acquainted me
Yourself but yesterday.

Cha.
I had forgot it.

Eut.
No wonder.

Cha.
Come, instruct me, Eutychus;
Tell me, which way I shall destroy myself.

Eut.
Peace! never talk thus!

Cha.
What then shall I talk of?

Eut.
Shall I impose upon your father?

Cha.
Ay;
With all my heart.

Eut.
And shall I to the Port?

Cha.
On wings, if possible.

Eut.
And buy the girl?

Cha.
Ay; with her weight in gold.

Eut.
But where's the gold?

Cha.
I'll beg Achilles to lend Hector's ransom.

Eut.
You're mad.

Cha.
True: were I in my perfect mind,
I should not ask your help, as my physician.

Eut.
Shall I pay down whatever price he asks?

Cha.
More than he asks; a thousand pieces more.

Eut.
Peace; and consider where you'll get the money,
When you're to settle with your father.

Cha.
Somewhere;
Anywhere; something shall be thought of.

Eut.
Pshaw!
I am afraid that something will be nothing.

Cha.
Can't you be silent?

Eut.
I am dumb.

Cha.
But are you
Sufficiently instructed?

Eut.
Prithee think
Of something else.

Cha.
It is impossible.

Eut.
Farewell!

Cha.
I can't fare well, till you return.

Eut.
Pity, you're mad!

Cha.
Go, thrive, and save my life!

Eut.
I'll do it: do you wait for me at home!

Cha.
And you return with speed, and bring the spoil!

[Exeunt severally.