 | The Churl |  |
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.
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