University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Enter DÆMONES from his House.
Ho! Sceparnio!

Scep.
Who calls me by my name?

Dæm.
Why, he that bought you,

Scep.
That is to say, you are my master.— (turning)
Dæmones!

Dæm.
Come, dig away; much stuff will be requir'd;
For, as I find, the whole house must be cover'd:
It has as many holes in't as a sieve.

Pleus.
(advancing)
Save you good father!—Save you both together!

Dæm.
Save you!

Scep.
(digging)
But are you man or woman, you
Who call him father?

Pleus.
Sure, I am a man.

Dæm.
Then seek elsewhere a father.—I had once
An only daughter, and I lost that one:—
I never had a son.

Pleus.
Pray heav'n may send—

Scep.
(still digging)
Send you a mischief, whosoe'er you are,
That seeing us employ'd would give us more
Employment with your chattering.

Pleus.
Dwell ye here?

Scep.
Why do you ask?—What! you survey the premises,
That you may come and plunder bye-and-bye.

Pleus.
That slave should be a trusty and a rich one,
Who lets his tongue run in his master's presence,
And dares in scurvy terms address a free-man.

Scep.
And he should be a filthy knave, a foul one,
An impudent base fellow, who will come
Of his own motion to another's house,
That owes him nothing.

Dæm.
Peace, Sceparnio. (to Pleus.)
Prithee,
Good youth, what would you?

Pleus.
I would ill to him
For his unmanner'd haste to speak the first,
When that his master's by.—But, sir, an't please you,
I'd ask in brief one question.

Dæm.
I'll attend you,
Though I am busied.

Scep.
(to Pleus.)
Go into the marsh,
Wilt thou? and cut some reeds to thatch our house with,
While it is fair.

Dæm.
(to Scep.)
Peace. (to Pleus.)
Tell me what's your pleasure?

Pleus.
Inform me what I ask you.—Have you seen
E'er a grey-headed, frizzle-pated fellow,
A scurvy, perjur'd knave, a fawning cogger?

Dæm.
Full many an one:—by reason of such men
I now alas! live miserable.

Pleus.
He,
I speak of, brought two damsels with him here,—
To-day or yesterday,—to Venus' temple,
In order to prepare a sacrifice.

Dæm.
I have seen no one sacrificing there.
These many days.—Nor can they sacrifice
Without my knowledge: Here they always come
For water, fire, or vessels, or a knife,
Spit, seething-pot, or something; in a word,
My well, my vessels are for Venus' use
More than my own:—But now, for many days,
There has been intermission.

Pleus.
What you say
Tells me I'm ruin'd.

Dæm.
'Tis no fault of mine.

Scep.
Hearkye me,—you, sir,—you that roam about
To temples for your belly's sake,—'twere best
Order your dinner to be got at home:
Belike you was invited yon to dinner,
And he, who ask'd you, never came.

Pleus.
(angrily)
Most excellent!

Scep.
E'en take thee home then with an empty belly;
There's nothing hinders.—Thou should'st rather be
A follower of Ceres than of Venus:
Love's her concern, but food is Ceres' care.

Pleus.
How scurvily this fellow dares to treat me!

Dæm.
(looking towards the sea.)
O ye good Gods! Who are those people yonder
Nigh to the shore, Sceparnio?—Look.

Scap.
Methinks
They've been invited to a parting dinner.

Dæm.
Why so?

Scep.
Because they've bath'd them after supper.
Their vessel's gone to pieces.

Dæm.
So it is.

Scep.
And so indeed our house too and its tiles
Are shatter'd upon land.

Dæm.
Alas! alas!
What nothings are poor mortal men!—See! see!
They are dash'd overboard! Look, how they swim!

Pleus.
I pray, where are they?

Dæm.
(pointing.)
This way, to the right,—
D'ye see them?—near the shore.

Pleus.
I see them.—
(To his Companions)
Follow me.
Would it were He I seek, that worst of villains!
Fare ye well.

Scep.
Of ourselves we should have look'd
To that without your bidding.

[Exit Pleusidippus and friends.