 | The Churl |  |
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ACT II.
SCENE I.
Enter PHRONESIUM, [speaking to her Slaves within.]
See, give that child the breast—How miserable,
How anxious are mothers, how distress'd!
'Tis a bad business this: and when I think
Upon it well, and turn it in my mind,
I am convinc'd, we're not esteem'd so bad
As in reality we are; and this
I speak from what I've just now learn'd at home.
What vast uneasiness, what pain I feel,
Lest this child's death should ruin all my plot.
And I'm more anxious for its life, because
I'm its reputed mother, and have dar'd
In private to attempt so bold a fraud.
'Twas greediness and thirst of gold, which push'd
Me on to this base deed: and made me sham
Another's pains—We never should attempt
An act of fraud, unless we are resolv'd
To carry it on with craft and diligence.
How anxious are mothers, how distress'd!
'Tis a bad business this: and when I think
Upon it well, and turn it in my mind,
I am convinc'd, we're not esteem'd so bad
As in reality we are; and this
I speak from what I've just now learn'd at home.
What vast uneasiness, what pain I feel,
Lest this child's death should ruin all my plot.
And I'm more anxious for its life, because
I'm its reputed mother, and have dar'd
In private to attempt so bold a fraud.
'Twas greediness and thirst of gold, which push'd
Me on to this base deed: and made me sham
Another's pains—We never should attempt
An act of fraud, unless we are resolv'd
To carry it on with craft and diligence.
You see I'm dress'd as if I'd just lain in;
[to the spectators.
And soon shall counterfeit a decent sickness.
Whene'er a woman once begins a fraud,
Unless she perfects it, she'll find it pain
And grief and misery—If a good work
She takes in hand, how soon will she be weary!
But few indeed are tir'd with acting wrong;
And fewer persevere in acting right.
A woman finds it a much easier task
To do an evil, than a virtuous deed.
I, partly from my mother's bad advice,
And partly from my own bad disposition,
Am but a wicked jade 'tis true; who have
Thus feign'd a pregnancy; and have declar'd
The Babylonian captain as the father.
I hope he'll find the plot conducted well.
I apprehend e'er long he will be here,
And with that previous knowledge I'm fore-arm'd.
I'm dress'd as if I had but just lain in.
Bring me the oyl of cinnamon, and fire
For the altar—I'll now to Lucina pay
My adoration—Set them down and leave me.
Retire ye from my presence—Ho! Pithecium—
Get ready for my lying down—Come near—
Assist—This suits a woman in the straw—
Take off my sandals, and throw over me
My robe, Archillis—Where are you, Astaphium?
Bring me the vervain, frankincense, sweet wine,
And water for my hands—By Castor! now
I wish the captain here—
[to the spectators.
And soon shall counterfeit a decent sickness.
Whene'er a woman once begins a fraud,
Unless she perfects it, she'll find it pain
And grief and misery—If a good work
She takes in hand, how soon will she be weary!
But few indeed are tir'd with acting wrong;
And fewer persevere in acting right.
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To do an evil, than a virtuous deed.
I, partly from my mother's bad advice,
And partly from my own bad disposition,
Am but a wicked jade 'tis true; who have
Thus feign'd a pregnancy; and have declar'd
The Babylonian captain as the father.
I hope he'll find the plot conducted well.
I apprehend e'er long he will be here,
And with that previous knowledge I'm fore-arm'd.
I'm dress'd as if I had but just lain in.
Bring me the oyl of cinnamon, and fire
For the altar—I'll now to Lucina pay
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Retire ye from my presence—Ho! Pithecium—
Get ready for my lying down—Come near—
Assist—This suits a woman in the straw—
Take off my sandals, and throw over me
My robe, Archillis—Where are you, Astaphium?
Bring me the vervain, frankincense, sweet wine,
And water for my hands—By Castor! now
I wish the captain here—
[Goes to the back of the stage, and lies down on a bed, as if having just lain in.]
SCENE II.
Enter STRATOPHANES.Stra.
Do not, spectators,
Expect that I recount my valorous deeds.
My conquests, by my arm I'm wont to publish,
Not by my tongue—Soldiers there are, I know,
Who tell most marvelous tales.—There's Homeronida;
And after him a thousand might be nam'd,
Who have been both convicted, and condemn'd
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I don't commend the man, who rather trusts
His ears than eyes—It discomposes me
When those are louder in their commendations,
Who've only heard reports, than those who saw
The deeds perform'd.—And one eye-witness weighs
More than ten hear-says. Seeing is believing,
All the world o'er—I like not him, whose praise
Is trumpeted in town by low buffoons,
While in the camp, the common men are silent.
Nor like I those, whose tongues at home make blunt
Our sword's keen edge—The valiant profit more
Their country, than the finest cleverest speakers.
Valour once known, will soon find eloquence
To trumpet forth her praise—In the same light
Look I upon the inactive orator;
And her who sings encomiums on the dead—
Praises she has on others to bestow,
But none has for herself—'Tis now almost
Ten months, since last I took my leave of Athens.
I'll to my mistress, whom I left with child,
And see what she's about—
Phro.
Who's talking there?
[to Astaphium.
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The captain's here—Stratophanes is come.
Phronesium, now's your time; feign yourself ill.
Phro.
Peace then!—D'ye think that I want your advice?
Can any of you all exceed my cunning?
Stra.
She's brought to bed, I'll answer for't!
Ast.
Suppose
I speak to him.
Phro.
Ay, go—
Stra.
See here, Astaphium
Is coming to me.
Ast.
Hail! Stratophanes!
I'm glad you're safe arriv'd—
Stra.
Well, that I know.
But is Phronesium brought to bed?
Ast.
She is;
And of a charming boy—
Stra.
Is he like me?
Ast.
Why ask you such a question?—when the moment
The boy was born, he ask'd for sword and target.
Stra.
Yes; he is mine; the proof is quite apparent.
Extremely like me! wonderfully so!
Is not his size already large?—Already
Has he not chose what legion he would plunder?
Ast.
Why yesterday he was but four days old.
Stra.
What then?—something by this he should have done.
Why was he born before he could engage
In battle?
Ast.
Follow me, and greet my mistress;
And give her joy—
Stra.
We'll follow you.
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O heavens!
Where is she?—Gone! and left me here alone!
Ast.
I'm here—And I have brought your long desir'd,
Your lov'd Stratophanes—
Phro.
Where is he, pray?
Stra.
The god of war returning from abroad,
Salutes his wife Neriene—Since you have had
Success, and since with children you are bless'd;
And since you've honour'd both yourself and me,
I give you joy—
Phro.
You, who've of day-light robb'd me,
Of my life too almost, right welcome are you.
You, who have been the cause of all I've felt,
And all I feel—
Stra.
O fye! my love! this pain
Is for your interest—You've produc'd a son
Will fill your house with plunder—
Phro.
Ah! by Castor!
We want much more to have our granaries fill'd;
Lest famine starve us e'er his plunder comes.
Stra.
Have a good heart—
Phro.
Ask me to kiss you here, then?
I've been, and still I am so much in pain,
I can't lift up my head, nor stand upon
My feet without assistance.
Stra.
O my sweet!
If from the mid-sea you would bid me fetch
A kiss of yours, I should not think it trouble.
You have experienc'd that already.—Now
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I've brought you here two maids from Suria—Here,
[to a slave.
Produce them—These are yours—They both were queens
At home.—But I have wasted and destroy'd
Their country—
Phro.
Don't the number I've already
Displease you; notwithstanding, do you bring me
More maids, to eat me out of house and home?
Stra.
By Hercules! if this present you dislike—
Here, boy, give me the bag there—See, my love,
Here is a Phrygian robe—I pray accept it.
And one from Pontus too—Take it, my love.
Phro.
For all my grievous pains, d'ye make me such
A trifling present?
Stra.
I'm undone, by Hercules!
Ah, me! my son will cost his weight in gold.
She does not value me a rush—I've brought you,
See here, from Tyre, a beauteous purple robe—
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Out of her sight—Don't you love me a little?
Phro.
By Castor! not at all—You don't deserve it.
Stra.
Will nothing satisfy her? She han't said
One kind word to me—I am sure, the presents
I've made her now, would sell for twenty minæ.
She's desperate angry with me now, I know,
And feel—But I'll go to her—Well, what say you?
Would you, my love, that I should go and sup
Where I'm invited; then return, and sleep
With you—Why are you silent?—Without doubt
I'm ruin'd—Hey!—What have we here?—Who's he
That leads this grand procession?—I'm resolv'd
To watch which way they go—I do suppose
To her—but I shall presently know more.
[stands apart.
SCENE III.
Enter GETA, followed by slaves, with presents from his master Dinarchus.Geta.
Hey! gee! hey, mules!—Come this way both of you,
You who bear loss and ruin to my master;
Who his goods carry off from home, together
Drawing a cart-full of them at your tails.
The man who's heartily in love, must be
Quite good for nought—He takes incessant pains,
And uses art to rob himself—Nor ask,
How I know this—A master of the art
We have at home, who looks upon his furniture
As dung; bids it be carried out—He fears
The Ædiles, one would think; as it's their order
That all things be kept clean—He is resolv'd
To have his house quite free from dirt; and so
All that is in it he sweeps clean away—
By Hercules! then since he is determin'd
On his own ruin, I shall privately
Assist: he'll not be ruin'd much the sooner,
For that; since from a single mina here
For these provisions I have only crib'd
Five pieces; Hercules's share, a tenth.
'Tis as you'd turn a stream upon your field:
Which if you do not, it will all run wast
Into the sea—My master's money here
Runs wast: 'tis spent most wretchedly, I'm sure,
And without credit too; when I observe
Things go on thus, I pilfer, I purloin
A little plunder from the general spoils—
You who bear loss and ruin to my master;
Who his goods carry off from home, together
Drawing a cart-full of them at your tails.
The man who's heartily in love, must be
Quite good for nought—He takes incessant pains,
And uses art to rob himself—Nor ask,
How I know this—A master of the art
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As dung; bids it be carried out—He fears
The Ædiles, one would think; as it's their order
That all things be kept clean—He is resolv'd
To have his house quite free from dirt; and so
All that is in it he sweeps clean away—
By Hercules! then since he is determin'd
On his own ruin, I shall privately
Assist: he'll not be ruin'd much the sooner,
For that; since from a single mina here
For these provisions I have only crib'd
Five pieces; Hercules's share, a tenth.
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Which if you do not, it will all run wast
Into the sea—My master's money here
Runs wast: 'tis spent most wretchedly, I'm sure,
And without credit too; when I observe
Things go on thus, I pilfer, I purloin
A little plunder from the general spoils—
I can't but think a courtezan is like
The sea; she swallows every thing you give,
Yet ne'er o'erflows—Nay worse; for what you give
To her, is lost, and ne'er appears again.
But what the sea receives, the sea at least
Preserves—Now here this courtezan has brought
My wretched master, by her wheedling wiles,
To want; and robb'd him of his fortune, friends,
His honour, and his life—How now! she's here;
Just by; I wish she ha'n't o'erheard my prate.
She's pale, as just deliver'd of a child—
I'll talk to her, as if I did not know it—
Save you!—
The sea; she swallows every thing you give,
Yet ne'er o'erflows—Nay worse; for what you give
To her, is lost, and ne'er appears again.
But what the sea receives, the sea at least
Preserves—Now here this courtezan has brought
My wretched master, by her wheedling wiles,
To want; and robb'd him of his fortune, friends,
His honour, and his life—How now! she's here;
Just by; I wish she ha'n't o'erheard my prate.
She's pale, as just deliver'd of a child—
I'll talk to her, as if I did not know it—
Save you!—
Phro.
Our Geta!—What are you about?
How do'st?—
Geta.
I'm well—And sent to you, who are
Not well—I bring a med'cine with me here
Will make you better—Your dear love, my master,
Bid me these presents bring, which you may see
Conveying hither; these five minæ too.
Phro.
In troth, I have not lov'd him so for nought.
Geta.
He bade me beg you to accept them kindly.
Phro.
I do so, and with thanks—Order them in.
Go, Cyamus—What! don't you hear my orders?—
Geta.
They sha'n't bear off the vases—I will have them
Air'd first.—
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How troublesome's this saucy fellow?
Geta.
Do you in earnest call me saucy fellow,
Who are yourself the sink of vice?
Phro.
But tell me
Where is Dinarchus?
Geta.
He's at home—
Phro.
Then tell him,
For these his gifts, I love and honour him
Of all mankind—I beg he'd visit me.
Geta.
Immediately—But, who's that fellow there,
With those malignant eyes and woeful countenance?
He feeds on his own spleen, whoe'er he is,
And pines in thought, I'll swear.
Phro.
'Troth he deserves it.
Geta.
Who is it?
Phro.
What! not know him? Why, 'tis he
Who liv'd with me, the father of my child.
He order'd me to bring it up, and gave me
But scarce enough to serve him for a breakfast.
His orders I obey'd, and watch'd and waited.
Geta.
I know him well, a good for nothing rogue.
Pray is that he?
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The very same.
Geta.
He eyes me
Groaning, and from the bottom of his breast
He fetches deep his sighs—Observe him now,
He grinds his teeth together, smites his thigh.
Why sure the man is mad, to beat himself.
Stra.
Now will I rouze my indignation up,
And utmost fury—Say! Whence are you, tell me
Whose scoundrel slave? How do you dare to speak
Uncivilly to me?
Geta.
Because I chuse it.
Stra.
And is it thus you dare to answer me?
Geta.
Yes, thus; I do not value you a straw.
Stra.
[to Phron.]
And what say you? How dare you own you love
Another man?
Phro.
I like another man.
Stra.
Ay, say you so at last? I shall try first
If for a shabby present of mean pot-herbs,
Of butcher's meat, and sour wine, you'll love
A curl'd, effeminate voluptuous fribble,
A fellow of no mark nor likelihood.
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Rascal! how now! dare you abuse my master;
Spring-head of wickedness and perjury?
Stra.
Say one word more, I'll crumble you to atoms.
Geta.
Hold—Touch me but, I'll make a lamb of you;
I'll quarter you—If you're in the army
A famous warrior; I'm i'th'kitchen, Mars
Himself.
Phro.
If you was wise, you would not blame
My visitors, whose gifts, with pleasure I
Receive, and thanks: while yours are odious to me.
Stra.
Then I have lost my presents, and my thanks.
Geta.
That's a clear case—What stay you here for then?
Impertinence!—You have confess'd yourself
Undone and lost—
Stra.
I am undone to-day,
Indeed, if I can't drive this fellow off.
[coming towards Geta.
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Move but this way!—do but come here!
Stra.
Do you threaten?
You ragamuffin! Now—now—now—I'll mince you
To mammocks—Why, come hither? Why, to her?
I say, how didst thou come to know my mistress?
If you but move a hand, I'll murder you.
Geta.
What!—Should I move a hand?
Stra.
Do as I bid you.
Stop here—Now will I cut you into chops.
Geta.
[aside.]
I'd best march off—Why this is not fair play.
[to him.
You have a longer sword than mine by far—
Since we must fight, permit me but to fetch
A spit—I'll just step home—I'll chuse
No partial judge between us, man of war—
But wherefore do I tarry loit'ring here,
[aside.
And not pack off, while with whole bones I may?
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
Phro.Give me my sandals—Lead me in this minute.
The wind has made my head ache desperately.
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What's to become of me? For these two maids
I gave you, make my heart ache desperately.
[Phron. is led in.
What are you gone! A ha! have I bestow'd
My presents thus? I'm finely fool'd, indeed—
What! suffer this? How little would persuade me
Instant to turn this whole house topsy-turvy?
Is any thing so greedy as these women?
Having a boy, she plucks her spirit up—
This is as if she said, I neither ask,
Nor yet forbid you to come in—But I
Will not—I won't go in—In a few days
I'll make her say I am a man of blood.
Follow me this way— [to his attendants.]
I'll have no more prating.
[Exit.
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End of the Second Act.
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