University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Enter PAMPHILUS and PARMENO.
Pam.
Never did man experience greater ills,
More miseries in love than I.—Distraction!
Was it for This I held my life so dear?
For This was I so anxious to return?
Better, much better were it to have liv'd
In any place, than come to this again!
To feel, and know myself a wretch!—For when
Mischance befals us, all the interval
Between its happening, and our knowledge of it,
May be esteem'd clear gain.

Par.
But as it is,
You'll sooner be deliver'd from your troubles.
For had you not return'd, the breach between them
Had been made wider. But now, Pamphilus,
Both will, I doubt not, reverence your presence.
You'll know the whole, make up their difference,
And reconcile them to each other.—These
Are all mere trifles, which you think so grievous.

Pam.
Ah, why will you attempt to comfort me?
Was ever such a wretch?—Before I married,
My heart, you know, was wedded to another.
—But I'll not dwell upon that misery,
Which may be easily conceiv'd: and yet
I had not courage to refuse the match
My father forc'd upon me.—Scarcely wean'd
From my old love, my lim'd soul scarcely freed
From Bacchis, and devoted to my wife,
Than, lo, a new calamity arises,
Threatening to tear me from Philumena.
For either I shall find my mother faulty,
Or else my wife: In either case unhappy.
For duty, Parmeno, obliges me
To bear with all the failings of a mother:
And then I am so bounden to my wife,
Who, calm as patience, bore the wrongs I did her,
Nor ever murmur'd a complaint.—But sure
'Twas somewhat very serious, Parmeno,
That could occasion such a lasting quarrel.

Par.
Rather some trifle, if you knew the truth.
The greatest quarrels do not always rise
From deepest injuries. We often see,
That what wou'd never move another's spleen,
Renders the cholerick your worst of foes.
Observe how lightly children squabble.—Why?
Because they're govern'd by a feeble mind.
Women, like children, too are impotent,
And weak of soul. A single word, perhaps,
Has kindled all this enmity between them.

Pam.
Go, Parmeno, and let them know I'm come.

[noise within.
Par.
Ha! what's all this?

Pam.
Hush!

Par.
I perceive a bustle,
And running to and fro.—Come this way, Sir!
—To the door!—nearer still!—There, there, d'ye hear?

[noise continues.
Pam.
Peace; hush! [shriek within]
Oh Jupiter, I heard a shriek!

Par.
You talk yourself, and bid me hold my tongue.

Myrrhina,
within.]
Hush, my dear child, for heaven's sake!

Pam.
It seem'd
The voice of my wife's mother. I am ruin'd!

Par.
How so?

Pam.
Undone!

Par.
And why?

Pam.
Ah, Parmeno,
They hide some terrible misfortune from me!

Par.
They said, your wife Philumena was ill:
Whether 'tis that, I cannot tell.

Pam.
Death, sirrah!
Why did you not inform me that before?

Par.
Because I could not tell you all at once.

Pam.
What's her disorder?

Par.
I don't know.

Pam.
But tell me.
Has she had no physician?

Par.
I don't know.

Pam.
But why do I delay to enter strait,
That I may learn the truth, be what it will?
—Oh my Philumena, in what condition
Shall I now find thee?—If there's danger of thee,
My life's in danger too.

[Exit.