University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Enter ERGASILUS.
It's a sad case for a poor wretch to prowl
In quest of a meal's meat, and at the last
With much ado to find one;—sadder is it,
With much ado to hunt upon the trail,
And at the last find nothing; but most sad,
To have a keen and craving appetite,
Without a morsel to appease it's longing.—
A plague upon this day!—I'd dig it's eyes out,
Had I the pow'r, it has so fill'd mankind
With enmity towards me.—Never sure
Was there a wretch so starv'd, so cram'd with hunger,
Or one, whose projects have so little prosper'd.—
I fear, my belly will keep holy-day.
Would it were hang'd for me, this scurvy trade,
This Parasite's profession!—Our young sparks
Consort not now a-days with us poor drolls;
They care not for us humble hangers-on,
Who are content to take the lowest seat
At table, who bear buffers like a Spartan,
And have no other fortune but our jests.—
Their choice is to associate with their equals,
Who, having ate with them, return the favour
At their own houses.—For themselves they cater,
Which was the province heretofore of Parasites.—
Shame on them! they will go into a brothel
Barefaced, nor muffled up, but all as publickly
As magistrates pass sentence on the guilty,
Unveil'd, in open court.—Buffoons they now
Count nothing worth; but they are all self-lovers.
For when I went from hence a while ago;
I met some of these young men at the Forum.
Good day, said I!—Where shall we dine together?
No answer.—What! will no one speak? says I,
None promise me a dinner?—Silent all,
As they were dumb.—Nay, not a single smile.
Where shall we sup then?—Still no invitation.
One of my best jests, such as heretofore
Have got me suppers for a month, I then
Repeat them.—Not a soul vouchsafed to smile.
I then found out, 'twas a concerted matter:
Not one would deign to imitate a dog,
When he's provok'd:—But if they did not chuse
To laugh outright, at least they might have shewn
Their teeth, as though they smiled.—Finding myself
The scoff and mockery of these sparks, I leave them,
March up to others, others still, and others;
All the same thing! all in confederacy,
Like the oil merchants in the market.—Well then,
Seeing myself thus fool'd, I came back hither.—
More parasites were sauntering at the Forum,
And to as little purpose as my self.—
I am determin'd, that the law shall right me
Against all those, who join in combination
To have me starv'd.—I will appoint a day
For them to give their answer.—I will have
Large satisfaction.—Dear as are provisions,
They shall be fined at least ten entertainments.—
Now to the port, where I have yet one hope
Of feasting:—if that fail me, I'll return
To this old Hegio, and his scurvy supper.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

Enter HEGIO, with ARISTOPHONTES behind.
What can be more delightful than promoting
The public good, as yesterday I did
By purchasing these captives? Ev'ry one,
Soon as he sees me, strait makes up to me,
Congratulates me on it:—they have tired me
Quite out, by stopping and detaining me:—
Scarce have I 'scaped alive from their civilities,
At length I got me to the Prætor;—there
Scarce rested me:—I ask'd a pass-port of him:
'Twas granted; and I gave it strait to Tyndarus,
Who is set off:—from thence I hurried home:
Then to my brother's, to my other captives.
I ask'd, if any one among them knew
Philocrates of Ælis, when this man
Cried out, he was his friend and intimate.
On telling him he now was at my house,
He beg'd me, I would give him leave to see him:
On which I order'd off his chains that instant.—
(To Arist.)
Follow me now, that you may have your wish,
And meet the person you desire to see.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter TYNDARUS.
Would I were dead now rather than alive,
As things turn out!—Hope has deserted me,
No succour will come near me.—See the day,
In which there is no chance to save my life!
Destruction's unavoidable,—no hope,
That can dispel my fear,—no cloak to screen
My subtle lies, false dealings, and pretences:
No deprecation can excuse my perfidy,
No subterfuge can palliate my offence:
No room for confidence, no place for cunning.—
What hitherto was hid is brought to light,
My tricks laid open, and the whole discover'd:
Nor have I ought to do but meet my fate,
And dye at once for me and for my master.—
Aristophontes, who is just gone in,
Has been my utter ruin; for he knows me:
He is a friend and kinsman to Philocrates.
Salvation could not save me, if she would:
Nor can I 'scape,—except that I contrive
Some cunning trick, some artifice. (meditating.)

A plague on't!
What can I think of?—what devise?—my thoughts
Are foolish, and my wit quite at a stand.

(Retires aside.

SCENE IV.

Enter HEGIO, ARISTOPHONTES, and Slaves.
HEGIO.
Where can he now have stole him out of doors?

Tynd.
(Aside.)
'Tis over with me!—Tyndarus, your foes
Are making their advances strait towards you.—
What shall I say? what talk off? what deny,
Or what confess?—'Tis all uncertainty;
Nor know I what to think of or confide in.—
Would that the Gods had utterly destroy'd you,
Aristophontes, ere you lost your country,
To disconcert a scheme so well contrived.
Our state is desperate, if I don't devise
Some cunning trick,

Heg.
(To Arist.)
Follow me.—Here he is:—
Approach, and speak to him.

Tynd.
(Aside, and turning away.)
Can there exist
A greater wretch than I am?

Arist.
Why is this,
That you avoid my eyes, and slight me, Tyndarus,
As though I were a stranger, and you ne'er
Had known me.—It is true, I am a slave
As you are:—though in Ælis I was free;
You from your youth have ever been a slave.

Heg.
In troth I am not in the least amazed,
That he should shun you, and avoid your sight,
Or hold you in despite and detestation,
When for Philocrates you call him Tyndarus.

Tynd.
Hegio, this fellow was at Ælis deem'd
A madman:—give no ear to what he says.
'Tis there notorious, that he sought to kill
His father and his mother, and has often
Fits of the falling sickness come upon him,
Which makes him foam at mouth.—Pray get you from him.

Heg.
Here—bear him further off. (To the Slaves.)


Arist.
How say you, rascal!
That I am mad? and that I sought to kill
My father and my mother? and have often
Fits of the falling sickness come upon me,
Which makes me foam at mouth?

Heg.
Be not dismay'd.
Many have labour'd under this disease,
And spitting has restor'd them to their health.

Tynd.
I know, to some at Ælis it has prov'd
Of special use.

Arist.
And will you credit him?

Heg.
I credit him!—in what?

Arist.
That I am mad.

Tynd.
See how he eyes you with a furious aspect!—
'Twere best retire.—'Tis, Hegio, as I said:—
His frenzy grows upon him,—have a care.

Heg.
True,—when he call'd you Tyndarus, I thought,
That he indeed was mad.

Tynd.
Nay, but sometimes
He knows not his own name, nor who he is.

Heg.
He said, you was his friend.

Tynd.
I never saw him.
Alcmæon, and Orestes, and Lycurgus,
Are just as much my friends, as he is, Hegio.

Arist.
How, rascal!—do you dare bespeak me ill?
Do I not know you?

Heg.
By my troth 'tis plain
You know him not, when for Philocrates
You call him Tyndarus:—you are a stranger
To him you see, and name him whom you see not.

Arist.
'Tis he pretends himself the man he is not,
Denies himself to be the man he is.

Tynd.
O to be sure, you'll get the better of me
In reputation for veracity!

Arist.
You, as it seems, my truth will overpower
With falsehood.—Prithee look me in the face.

Tynd.
Well.

Arist.
Speak.—Do you deny, that you are Tyndarus?

Tynd.
I tell you, I deny it.

Arist.
Will you say,
You are Philocrates?

Tynd.
I say, I am.

Arist.
(To Phil.)
And you,—do you believe him?

Heg.
More than you,
Or than myself.—The man, you say he is,
Set out this day for Ælis to His father.

Arist.
What Father?—He's a slave.—

Tynd.
And so are you,
Once free as I was,—as I trust I shall be,
When I have gain'd this old man's son his liberty.

Arist.
How rascal! will you dare to call you free man?

Tynd.
Not Freeman, but I say, I am Philocrates.

Arist.
See, Hegio, how the rogue makes sport with you!
For he's a slave, and never own'd a slave
Besides himself.

Tynd.
So then,—because you liv'd
A beggar in your country without means
For your support, you would have ev'ry one
Plac'd on the self same footing with yourself.—
No wonder:—'tis the nature of the poor
To hate and envy men of property.

Arist.
Have a care, Hegio, how you rashly credit him.
As far as I can see, he means to trick you:—
Nor do I like at all his talking to you
Of the redemption of your son.

Tynd.
I know,
You wish it not: but with the help of heav'n
I shall accomplish it:—I shall restore
His son to him, and he will send me back
To Ælis to my father; for which purpose
Have I sent Tyndarus.

Arist.
Why You are He;
Nor is there any other slave at Ælis
Of that name but yourself.

Tynd.
And will you still
Reproach me with my state of servitude,
Brought on me by the chance of hapless war?

Arist.
I can't contain myself.

Tynd.
Ha! do you hear him?—
Will you not fly?—He'll pelt us now with stones,
Unless you have him seiz'd.

Arist.
I'm vext to death.

Tynd.
Look, how his eyes strike fire!—A cord, a cord,
Good Hegio. Don't you see his body's charged
With livid spots all over?—The black bile
Disorders him, poor fellow!

Arist.
The black pitch
Disorder you beneath the hangman's hand,
And (if this old man would but serve you right,)
Illuminate your head!

Tynd.
How wild he talks!
He is possess'd by evil spirits.

Heg.
Suppose
I order him to be seiz'd.

Tynd.
'Twere the best way.

Arist.
It vexes me I cannot find a stone
To dash the villain's brains out, who insists
That I am mad.

Tynd.
There—do you hear him, Sir?
He's looking for a stone.

Arist.
Shall I beg, Hegio,
A word with you alone?

Heg.
Speak where you are,—
What would you?—I can hear you at a distance.

Tynd.
If you permit him to approach you nearer,
He'll bite your nose off.

Arist.
Hegio, do not you
Believe that I am mad, or ever was;
Nor have I the disorder he pretends.
If any outrage you do fear from me,
Command me to be bound: 'tis my desire,
So at the same time he be bound with me.

Tynd.
Let him be bound, that chuses it.

Arist.
No more:—
I warrant I shall make you, false Philocrates,
To be found out the real Tyndarus.—
Why do you nod at me?

Tynd.
I nod at you?
(To Hegio)
What would he do, if you were further off?

Heg.
How say you? What if I approach this madman?

Tynd.
He'll teaze you with his fooleries, and jabber
Stuff without head or tail.—He only wants
The habit, else he is a perfect Ajax.

Heg.
No matter—I'll go to him.

(advances to Arist.
Tynd.
I'm undone.—
Now do I stand between the stone and victim,
Nor know I what to do.

Heg.
Aristophontes, ,
If you would ought with me, I lend attention.

Arist.
Sir, you shall hear the real truth from me,
Which now you deem a falshood.—But I first
Would clear me to you from this charge of madness.—
Believe me, Hegio, I'm not mad, nor have I
Any complaint but this,—that I'm a slave.—
O never may the king of gods and men
My native country suffer me to see,
If This is any more Philocrates
Than you or I.

Heg.
Tell me, who is he then?

Arist.
The same, I said he was from the beginning.
If you shall find it other, I can shew
No cause, no reason, why I should not suffer
A lack of liberty, your slave for ever.

Heg.
(to Tynd.)
And what do you say?

Tynd.
That I am your slave,
And you my master.

Heg.
I don't ask you that.—
Was you a free man?

Tynd.
Yes, I was.

Arist.
Indeed
He never was: he trifles with you, Hegio.

Tynd.
How do you know? or was you peradventure
My mother's midwife, that you dare affirm
What you advance with so much confidence?

Arist.
A boy I saw you when a boy.

Tynd.
A man
I see you now a man.—So—there's an answer.—
If your behaviour was as would become you,
You would not interfere in my concerns.—
Do I in yours?

Heg.
(to Arist.)
Say, was his father's name
Thesaurochrysonicochrysides?

Arist.
'Twas not,—nor did I ever hear the name
Before to-day:—Philocrates's father
Was call'd Theodoromedes.

Tynd.
I'm ruin'd!
Be still my heart!—prithee go hang yourself—
Still, still will you be throbbing.—Woe is me!
I scarce can stand upon my legs for fear.

Heg.
Can I be sure this fellow was a slave
In Ælis, and is not Philocrates?

Arist.
So certain, that you'll never find it other.
But where is He now?

Heg.
Where I least could wish him,
And where he wishes most himself to be.
Ah me! I am disjointed, sawn asunder,
By the intrigues of this vile rascal, who
Has led me by the nose just at his pleasure.—
But have a care you err not.

Arist.
What I say,
Is as a thing assur'd, a truth establish'd.

Heg.
And is it certain?

Arist.
Yes,—so very certain,
That you can never find a thing that's more so.
I and Philocrates have been friends from boys.

Heg.
What sort of person was Philocrates?

Arist.
His hair inclin'd to red, frizzled and curl'd,
A lenten jaw, sharp nose, a fair complexion,
And black eyes.—

Heg.
The description's very like him.

Tynd.
Now by my troth it was a sore mischance,
My coming here:—woe to the hapless twigs,
Will die upon my back:

Heg.
I plainly see,
I have been cheated.

Tynd.
Why do ye delay?
Haste, haste, ye chains, come and embrace my legs,
That I may have you in my custody.—

Heg.
These villainous captives, how they have deceiv'd me!
He, that is gone off, feign'd himself a slave,
And this a free man.—I have lost the kernel,
And for security the shell is left me.—
Fool that I am! they have impos'd upon me
In ev'ry shape.—But he shall never more
Make me his sport.—Hoa, Colapho, Cordalio,
Corax, go in and bring me out the thongs.

Slave.
What, is he sending us to bind up faggots?

[The Slaves go in, and return with thongs.

SCENE V.

HEGIO, ARISTOPHONTES, and Slaves.
HEGIO.
This instant manacle that rascal there.

[to his Slaves.
Tynd.
Ah! why is this? in what have I offended?

Heg.
What, do you ask? you that have been the sower,
The weeder, and the reaper of these villainies.—

Tynd.
Why, first of all, did you not call me harrower?
Husbandmen always harrow first the ground,
Before they weed it.—

Heg.
See, with what assurance
He stands before me!

Tynd.
It becomes a slave,
That's innocent, unconscious of a crime,
To bear him with such confidence, especially
Before his master.—

Heg.
See you bind his hands,
And hard too.

Tynd.
I am yours, my hands are yours;—
If 'tis your pleasure, bid them be cut off.—
But what's the matter?—why thus angry with me?

Heg.
Because that by your knavish lying schemes
You have destroy'd, as far as in your power,
Me and my hopes, distracted my affairs,
And by your tricks have chous'd me of Philocrates.
I thought he was a slave, and you a free man,
For so you said you were, and for that purpose
You chang'd your names.

Tynd.
I own that I have acted
E'en as you say,—that he has found the means
For his escaping, and through my assistance.—
Is it for this then you are angry with me?

Heg.
What you have done, you'll find will cost you dear.

Tynd.
Death I esteem a trifle, when not merited
By evil actions.—If I perish here,
And he return not, as he gave his word,
This act will be remembred to my honour,
After I'm dead;—that I contriv'd to free
My master,when a captive, from his state
Of slavery and oppression with the foe;
Restor'd him to his country and his father,
Preferring rather to expose my life
To danger for him, than that he should suffer.

Heg.
Enjoy that fame then in the other world.

Tynd.
He dies to live, who dies in Virtue's cause.

Heg.
When I have put you to severest torture,
And for your tricks have ta'en away your life,
Let them extol you, that you are no more,
Let them extol you, that you've lost your life,
Nay, let them say, that you are still alive,
It matters not to me, so you but die.

Tynd.
Do,—put your threats in force,—you'll suffer for it,
If he return here, as I trust he will.

Arist.
(Aside)
O ye immortal gods!—I know it now,
I understand it all.—My friend Philocrates
Enjoys his liberty, is with his father
At large in his own country.—That is well.—
There's not a man, whom I wish better to.—
But O! it grieves me, I have done for Him
So ill an office, who alas! is chain'd
On my account for what I hap'd to say.

Heg.
Did I not charge you not to tell me false?

Tynd.
You did.

Heg.
Then wherefore have you dar'd to do it?

Tynd.
Truth would have done him hurt I wish'd to serve:
Falsehood has done him good.

Heg.
But hurt to you.

Tynd.
'Tis best.—I've serv'd my master, and I joy in't:—
My good old master gave him to my care.—
And do you think this wrongly done in me?

Heg.
Most wrongly.

Tynd.
I, who can't but differ from you,
Say rightly.—Only think,—if any slave
Of your's had done the same thing for your son,
How, how would you have thank'd him!—would you not
Have giv'n him freedom? would you not have held him
In your esteem high above all his fellows?—
I prithee answer me.

Heg.
I think I should.

Tynd.
Why are you angry then with me?

Heg.
Because
You were to him more faithful than to me.

Tynd.
What! could you have expected, that a man,
Newly a captive, and just made your slave,
Should in one night and day be taught by you
More to consult your interest than the good
Of one, whom he had liv'd with from a boy?

Heg.
Seek your reward then of that one.—
(To the Slaves.)
Go bear him,
Where he may put on large and ponderous chains.—
To the stone-quarries after shalt thou go:
There, in the time that others dig out eight,
If ev'ry day thou dost not dig twelve stones,
Thou shalt be dubb'd with stripes Sexcentoplagus.

Arist.
By Gods and men I do conjure you, Hegio,
O let him not be lost.

Heg.
I'll look to that.
At night he shall be guarded, bound with thongs,
And in the day shall labour in the quarries.
I'll keep him in continual exercise,
Nor shall he know the respite of one day.

Arist.
Is that your resolution?

Heg.
Sure as death.—
Bear him directly to Hippolytus
The smith, and bid him clap upon his legs
Huge massy irons; then without the gate
Go, carry him to Cordalus my freed-man,
That he may make him labour in the quarries;
And tell him, 'tis my pleasure he be used
No better than the vilest slave I have.

Tynd.
Against your will why should I wish to live?
My loss of life will be a loss to you.
There is no evil I need dread in death,
When death is over. Were I to survive
To th'utmost age of man, my space of time
To bear the hardships, which you threat me with,
Would yet be short.—Then fare you well,—be happy,—
Though you deserve another language from me.
And you, Aristophontes, take from me
As good a farewell, as you've merited:
For you have been the cause of this.

Heg.
Hence with him.

Tynd.
One thing I yet request,—that, if Philocrates
Come back again, I may have leave to see him.

Heg.
Bear him this instant from my sight, ye slaves,
Or you yourselves shall suffer.

(The Slaves lay hold on Tyndarus, and push him along.
Tynd.
This indeed
Is downright violence,—to be drag'd and driven.

[He is born off by the Slaves.

SCENE VI.

Enter HEGIO and ARISTOPHONTES.
HEGIO.
So—he is carried off to limbo.—Well,—
I'll teach my other captives, how to dare
Attempt another such-like enterprise!
Had it not been for Him, who made discovery
Of this device, they all with knavish arts
Had led me by the bridle.—I'm resolv'd
Henceforth I will have faith in none of them.—
I have been once impos'd on full enough.—
Ah me! I hop'd to have redeem'd my son
From slavery.—That hope is vanish'd quite!—
One son I lost at four years old;—a slave
Then stole him from me; nor have I once heard
From that time of the slave or of my son.—
My eldest is a captive with the foe.—
Ha! how is this? as though I had begot
My children only to be childless.—Follow me;
(to Arist.
And I'll conduct you to your former station.
I am resolv'd, to no one will I shew
Pity henceforth,—since no one pities me.

Arist.
With an ill omen freed from chains I came,
With an ill omen I to chains return.

[Exeunt.