The Merchant | ||
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ACT III.
SCENE I.
Enter LYSIMACHUS, with PASICOMPSA.LYSIMACHUS.
I've acted by my neighbour neighbourly,
And bought this piece of goods at his request.
You're mine now. (To Pas.)
Follow me:—Nay, do not weep;
You are to blame to spoil those pretty eyes,
And you shall find more cause to laugh than cry.
Pas.
Good Sir, inform me!
Lys.
Ask whate'er you please.
Pas.
What did you buy me for?
Lys.
For what?—To do
Whate'er I order you; and in return
I'll do whatever you shall order me.
Pas.
I shall in all my best obey you, Sir.
Lys.
My orders will not be extremely painful.
(Smiling.
Pas.
Indeed, Sir, I've not learnt to carry burdens,
Nor to tend cattle, nor take care of children.
Lys.
Be a good girl, and you shall be well treated.
Pas.
Then I am miserable.
Lys.
Why?
Pas.
Because
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Nor would I speak what all folks know already.
Lys.
'Fore heaven, that speech alone is well worth more
Than I paid for her.—You'd insinuate
That there is no such thing as a good woman?
Pas.
Indeed I don't say that, Sir.
Lys.
Give me leave
To ask you one thing.
Pas.
Ask it: I'll reply.
Lys.
Acquaint me with your name then.
Pas.
Pasicompsa.
Lys.
It suits your form.—But tell me, Pasicompsa,
Could you, if there were an occasion for it,
Weave a fine woof?
Pas.
I could.
Lys.
It follows then
Undoubtedly that you could weave a coarser.
Pas.
I fear no woman of my age for weaving.
Lys.
Ay, a good girl, I warrant you, and honest;
And of an age to know your duty well.
Pas.
Indeed I have been well instructed, Sir;
And will not let my work be call'd in question.
Lys.
Well, that's the very thing; you'll do, I find;
I'll give you for your own peculiar use
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Pas.
So old, Sir?
Lys.
Of the true Grecian breed, extremely fine;
And you will sheer it most incomparably.
Pas.
Whatever honour's done me, I'll be grateful.
Lys.
Now, child, to undeceive you, you're not mine.
Do not imagine it.
Pas.
Whose am I then?
Lys.
You're purchas'd for your master's use again;
And I've now ransom'd you at his request.
Pas.
Ah! I revive, if he be true to me.
Lys.
Be of good cheer! he'll give you liberty.
'Fore heaven, girl, he loves you to distraction:
You charm'd him at first sight to-day.
Pas.
To-day?
'Tis now two years that we have been connected:
For since I find you are his friend, I'll trust you.
Lys.
How! have you been two years connected?
Pas.
Ay:
And bound each other by a mutual oath,
Never to know a man or wife beside,
Or yield to an adulterous embrace.
Lys.
Good heav'n! has he no commerce with his wife?
Pas.
His wife? He is not, nor will e'er be married.
Lys.
Would he were not! He is a perjur'd man.
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I love no man on earth like that dear youth.
Lys.
A youth, you simpleton!—Not long ago
His teeth fell out.
Pas.
Whose teeth?
Lys.
No matter whose.
Follow me in: he has intreated me
To give you entertainment at our house
For one day; since my wife is out of town.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
DEMIPHOalone.
I have concerted this intrigue at last,
And purchas'd, by my neighbour's help, a mistress,
Without the knowledge of my wife and son.
I'll recollect old saws, and please my humour:
My race near run, the rest of my career
Shall be fill'd up with pleasure, wine, and love:
For to indulge and sate the appetite
In this last stage of life is very meet.
While you are lusty, young, and full of blood,
You ought to toil and labour for a fortune;
But in old age, be happy, while you may,
And render all your latter years clear gain.
I by my deeds will prove these maxims true.
But mean while I must call at home: my wife,
I warrant you, is almost starv'd with waiting,
And has expected me at home long since.
—Yet if I go, she'll kill me with her scolding:
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But find my neighbour first, and give him charge
To hire me some apartments for my mistress.
But see! he's coming forth.
SCENE III.
Enter LYSIMACHUS.Lys,
(speaking to Pas. within)
I'll bring him to you
Directly, if I find him.
Dem.
(behind)
Meaning me.
Lys.
(turning about)
Demipho!
Dem.
Is the woman at your house?
Lys.
What do you think?
Dem.
What if I go and see?
(Going.
Lys.
Whither so fast? hold, hold!
(Stopping him.
Dem.
On what account?
Lys.
Think what you ought to do.
Dem.
And wherefore think?
To enter here is what I ought to do.
Lys.
And would you enter, you old bellweather?
Dem.
Why should not I?
Lys.
Be rul'd by me, and learn
Certain precautions I think needful first.
For shou'd you enter now, you'd run directly
Into her arms, and talk to her, and kiss her.
Dem.
You know my mind: I should do even so.
Lys.
You would do wrong then.
Dem.
Wrong, with her I love?
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More and more wrong with her you love.—What you!
A goat of an old fellow, rank, and fasting,
Go with your stinking breath to kiss a wench?
Your fondness will but make the woman sick.
'Fore heaven, you must doat indeed to think on't.
Dem.
Suppose then (since 'tis so) we get some cook
To dress a supper for us at your house
Against the evening.
Lys.
Well said! now you've hit it.
Now you talk gallantly, and like a lover.
Dem.
Why do we stand then? Let's go instantly,
And cater for a jovial entertainment!
Lys.
I'll follow you; but mark, I give you warning,
To look out for a lodging for this wench.
She cannot stay with me beyond to-day;
For fear my wife should come to town to-morrow,
And find her here.
Dem.
I've settled that. Away!
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
CHARINUSalone.
Now am not I a wretch, a wretch indeed,
To whom no place can minister repose?
If I'm at home, my mind is gone abroad;
If I'm abroad, my mind remains at home.
Love in my breast and heart so fiercely burns,
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My head would be in flames.—Some hope remains;
Safety is fled; if ever to return,
As yet I am uncertain. If my father
Should seize, as he has threaten'd, Pasicompsa,
Safety is gone for ever. If my friend
Return successful, he brings safety with him.
And yet had that same tardy Eutychus
Been crippled with the gout, he might have been
Here from the Port ere now.—Oh, he is slow,
When I could wish him nimble as my thoughts.
—But who comes running hither?—Ha! 'tis he.
I'll meet him.—And Oh Thou, who seest all deeds
Of Gods and men, the sovereign governess
Of ev'ry mortal accident, I thank thee
For bringing me this hope!—But may I hope?
Ah, I'm undone! His aspect likes me not.
Mournful he comes.—My bosom burns; I doubt;
—He shakes his head.—Well, friend!
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SCENE V.
Enter EUTYCHUS.Eut.
Alas, Charinus!
Cha.
Ere you take breath, deliver but one word.
Where am I? with the living, or the dead?
Eut.
With neither.
Cha.
Then I'm safe. I am immortal.
He has redeem'd her, and o'er-reach'd my father.
—There's no soul living that can sooner put
His purpose into act.—Come, prithee speak!
If neither here, nor with the dead, where am I?
Eut.
No where.
Cha.
Confusion! this dull trifling kills me.
When you should speak directly to the point,
To beat about the bush thus, is provoking.
Whate'er thy news, tell me the sum of all.
Eut.
First, we are ruin'd then.
Cha.
Nay, that's no news.
Inform me something I don't know.
Eut.
Your mistress
Is torn away from you.
Cha.
Ah, Eutychus!
You're guilty of a capital offence.
Eut.
Of what?
Cha.
Of murder: for you put to death
A friend, companion, and free citizen.
Eut.
Heaven forbid!
Cha.
You've cut my throat. I fall.
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Abandon not your mind unto despair!
Cha.
I have no mind to be abandon'd, I.
—Come, speak the rest of your ill news: for whom
Has she been purchas'd?
Eut.
That I cannot tell.
She was adjudg'd a slave, and carried off,
Before I reach'd the Port.
Cha.
Ah me! you throw
Mountains of fire upon me with these news.
Proceed, and torture, executioner,
Since you have once begun.
Eut.
Alas, my friend,
This troubles me as sorely as yourself.
Cha.
Tell me, who bought her.
Eut.
I don't know.
Cha.
See there!
Is that discharging business like a friend?
Eut.
What could I do?
Cha.
The very thing, that now
You've seen Me do; have died, but have discover'd
What kind of man he was, who purchas'd her:
And possibly that way have trac'd the woman.
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Alas!
(Weeping.
Cha.
Weep not the mischiefs you have done.
Eut.
What have I done?
Cha.
Destroy'd me; broke your faith.
Eut.
The Gods are witnesses I'm not to blame.
Cha.
Away! ne'er call upon the absent Gods.
Give me a living witness of your truth.
Eut.
I have proofs worthy your belief, proofs worthy
To be produc'd by me.
Cha.
You're quick and apt
At disputation; to discharge your trust
Lame, blind, dumb, senseless, weak, and impotent.
You promis'd to cajole my father. I,
Fool that I was! believ'd you capable:
But now I find you a mere block, a stone.
Eut.
What could I do?
Cha.
What could you do? Oh shame!
Have ask'd, enquir'd, who? whence he was? what figure?
A citizen, or foreigner?
Eut.
They told me,
That he was an Athenian citizen.
Cha.
You might at least discover his abode,
If not his name.
Eut.
No creature could inform me.
Cha.
His figure then you might have ask'd at least.
Eut.
I did.
Cha.
And how did they describe him to you?
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Just thus: bald-pated, bandy-legg'd, pot-bellied,
Wide-mouth'd, short, blear-eyed, lanthorn-jaw'd, splay-footed.
Cha.
This is not the description of a man,
But a mere bundle of deformities.
Know you aught more about him?
Eut.
Nothing more.
Cha.
Death! his vile lanthorn-jaws have ruin'd me!
I can't endure it. I will fly my country;
And only doubt what city I shall seek,
Eretria, Megara, Corinth, Chalcis,
Crete, Cyprus, Gnidus, Sicyon, Zacynthus,
Or Lesbia, or Bœotia.
Eut.
Why d'ye think on't?
Cha.
Because I'm cross'd in love.
Eut.
And what of that?
Suppose you gain your place of destination,
If there you chance again to fall in love,
And be again successless, will you fly
That country too? Another and another,
Upon the like occasion?—You will set
No bounds to exile; know no end of flight;
What country, what abode can then be certain?
Suppose you quit this city, d'ye suppose
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If you're convinc'd on't, how much better were it,
To go into the country, and live there,
Till this ungovern'd passion wears away?
Cha.
You've said?
Eut.
I have.
Cha.
In vain: for I'm resolv'd.
I'll home, and pay my duty to my parents;
And then, without their knowledge, fly my country,
Or take some other step as desperate.
[Exit.
SCENE VI.
EUTYCHUSalone.
How suddenly he took himself away!
Wretch that I am! if he should fly his country,
They'd say that my remissness was the cause.
I will assemble all the publick criers,
And find this woman out by proclamation.
If that should fail I'll to the Prætor, beg him
To grant search-warrant officers, and raise
An hue and cry in ev'ry street in town.
For these I think the only means are left me.
The End of the Third Act.
The Merchant | ||