University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Enter DINARCHUS.
DINARCHUS.
There's not begotten, born, nor can be found,
Whom I would have more prais'd, more gratified,
Than Venus—Ye great gods! how I rejoice!
I'm overwhelm'd with joy—What ravishing news
Has Geta brought to-day!—Phronesium sets
A value on my gifts, and loves them dearly.
And 'tis not only this which charms me, but
What most delights me is, the Captain's gifts
Are ill receiv'd; nay more, are odious to her.
I'm all in rapture; for if he's dismiss'd,
The day's my own; my girl will live with me.
I in my ruin plainly find my safety.
Without such ruin I had quite been lost.
Now will I watch what they're about, and who
Comes out, and who goes in here—At some distance
What's like to be my fate, I can observe.
But still one thing disturbs me much; for now
Since all my fortune's spent, I must depend
Entirely on another's will and pleasure.

SCENE II.

Enter ASTAPHIUM [speaking to PHRONESIUM as she comes out.]
Ast.
I'll do my duty well, see you do yours
As well within—Love what you ought; your interest.
While he is willing, fleece him:—while he has
To give, why humour now the opportunity.
Call forth your graces, feast him with your charms:
I will preside and manage here without.
While he exports his father's goods to us,
I'll not admit a creature to be troublesome.
Go on to fleece, and strip him at your pleasure.

Din.
Ha! who is this! Astaphium! Prithee say,
Who's this, who now is on the brink of ruin?

Ast.
Was you here, marry!

Din.
Am I troublesome!

Ast.
More now than formerly—For he by whom
We nothing get, to us is troublesome—
But give me leave to say what I would say.

Din.
What is't?—Concerns it me?—

Ast.
No, not a jot.
There's one within who gives by heaps—

Din.
What now?
Some new gallant?

Ast.
A full and untouch'd hoard
She has seiz'd—

Din.
Who is't?

Ast.
Don't mention it, I tell you,
Don't you know Strabax?

Din.
To be sure I do—

Ast.
He is a prince with us; he's our estate—
He spends his cash with spirit—

Din.
How! By Hercules!
Then I'm undone indeed—

Ast.
Indeed you are—
A simpleton, who would with words undo
What is already done—But so did Thetis
Mourn her lost son with funeral lamentations.

Din.
Can I not be admitted?

Ast.
And why rather
You, than the Captain?—

Din.
Why?—Because I've given
Her more—

Ast.
You oftner had admission then—
Others you should permit, for what they give
To use their time—You've learn'd your A, B, C.
Since you are perfect, theirs let others learn.

Din.
Why let them learn, so I may con my lesson,
For fear I should forget my learning—

Ast.
But,
While you, a master, exercise your brain,
Why she will do the same with hers—

Din.
How's that?

Ast.
She'll ever and anon expect some money.

Din.
I sent her, it is but to-day, five minæ;
Yes, and one more besides, to buy provisions.

Ast.
And they were bought I know; we now regale
Upon your courtesy—

Din.
What! shall my enemies
Feast here at my expence? By Hercules!
I swear, I'd rather suffer death than bear it.

Ast.
My enemies I wish should envy me,
Not I my enemies—To see another
Happy, is pain and misery to you.
Who envies, pines in poverty and want;
While the objects of his spleen abound in wealth.
O you are mighty simple!—

Din.
How's that?

Ast.
Wait—

Din.
Why so?—

Ast.
Because I chuse you should.

Din.
And not
At least be sharer of my own provisions?—

Ast.
If that was your intent, to your own house
You should have order'd half—For our receipts
Are just like those of Acheruns; we all
Receive; but what comes in, returns no more—
Farewell—

Din.
Stay, stop—

Ast.
Let me alone; be quiet.

Din.
Well—then—But I'll go in—

Ast.
To your own house.

Din.
No—but in here—

Ast.
That's quite impossible.

Din.
'Tis very possible—Let me but try.

Ast.
No forcible entry—Wait here, and I'll tell her,
You're come, unless I find she is engag'd.

[going.
Din.
Stay—Hold—

Ast.
'Tis all in vain—

Din.
Will you return?

Ast.
I would—But hark! I hear one call, whose voice
Is louder far than yours—

Din.
One word—

Ast.
Well, say it.

Din.
You'll let me in?—

Ast.
You fib—Go to—Your word
You've multiplied; for you've said four—all fibs.

[Exit.
Din.
She's fled, gone in—What! shall I bear all this?
I'll make a riot, and expose you here
Before your proper doors; trickster, I will
By Hercules!—Thou, who against the laws
From numbers hast extorted money, now
There's not a magistrate in town, but I
Will lay thy name before; and then for quadruple,
Will seize upon thee, thou vile sorceress,
Who dost steal boys, and pass them for thy own.
I'll publish to the world thy wicked deeds.
I'm now not worth a sesterce—I've spent all
I had—I'm desperate grown, and reckless now
What shoes I wear—Why do I clamour here?
Suppose she would admit me now—Most solemnly
I swear, I'd not go in, tho' she intreated me.
This railing is but loss of time—Who strikes
A goad, will feel the smart—To vent your rage
'Gainst her, who does not care a straw, is folly.
But who is this!—Good gods! I see old Callicles;
Who once was to have been my near relation—
He brings two girls with him in bonds, the one
Phronesium's tire-woman, his own maid t'other.
I'm in a dreadful fright—For added to
The present grief, which wounds my heart, I fear
My old bad pranks will now be brought to light.

SCENE III.

Enter CALLICLES, his MAID, and SURA, bound.
Cal.
[to his maid.]
Speak I to you ill language?—Or to you?
[to Sura.
Bear I a mind malicious?—Both of you
In my opinion, have well nigh experienc'd
How gentle and how mild a man I am.
For when you both were scourg'd, and both examin'd,
I recollect, and know how every thing
You then confess'd—Now, here I fain would see,
If without torture, you will own the same.
But mind, I plainly tell you both beforehand,
Tho' of the serpent kind you are, beware
You speak not different language, lest for aye
I stop your double tongues; unless you chuse
To go to those will make the lashes smack
Upon your backs—

Maid.
I must perforce confess
The truth, the thongs so wring and gall my arms.

Cal.
Confess the truth, and you shall be unbound.

Din.
[aside.]
I know not what to make of this affair;
I only know I'm in a horrid fright.

Maid.
I'm yet to learn what crime I have committed.

Cal.
Stand first of all apart—Thus I, observe,
Would have it—Mark, and use no signs between you.
I'll be a screen—Speak you—

[to his maid.
Maid.
What shall I say?

Cal.
Say what's done with my daughter's child, my grandson?
Tell me from first to last.

Maid.
I gave it her—

[meaning Sura.
Cal.
Now hold your tongue—You took the child then from her?

[to Sura.
Sur.
I did.

Cal.
Well, peace! I stand on nothing else.
You have confess'd enough—

Sur.
I shan't deny it.

Cal.
By this you've made a plaister for your back.
As yet they both agree in what they say.

Din.
[aside.]
Wretch that I am, my wicked deeds are now
Disclos'd, which I have hop'd would ne'er have come
To light—

Cal.
Do you speak now: [to the maid.]
Who bid you give
The child to her?—

Maid.
'Twas my old mistress, Sir.

Cal.
Now what say you? [to Sura.]
Why did you take it of her?

Sur.
Why, my young mistress beg'd I would procure
A child, and keep the whole a secret, Sir.

Cal.
Speak you again—What did you with the child?

Sur.
Why, I convey'd it to my mistress strait.

Cal.
Well, what did she with't?

Sur.
She to my mistress
Directly gave it—

Cal.
To what mistress, carrion?

Sur.
I have two mistresses—

Cal.
Mind what you say.
Answer to what I say; my questions only.

Sur.
Why then I say, the mother, my old mistress,
The infant gave directly to her daughter.

Cal.
You did not say so much just now.

Sur.
Nor did
You ask so much—

Cal.
Come, answer me more speedily.
Now, she who had the child, what did she with it?

Sur.
She made it pass for—

Cal.
Whose?

Sur.
For her own child.

Cal.
For her own child! good Heaven! with what a deal
More ease, a stranger bears a child, than does
The real mother! Here is one has brought
A child into the world, and felt no pain.
A happy child indeed, and doubly blest,
Since it two mothers, and two grandams has.
I fear it has more fathers too, than one.
See, see the wicked ways of women!

Maid.
Troth
This fraud had more of man than woman in it.
It was a man, and not a woman got
The child—

Cal.
Ay, I know that as well as you.
You've been a trusty guardian—

Maid.
Why, the weakest
Goes always to the wall—He was a man—
Was strong, and conquer'd—What he ask'd, he took—

Cal.
And brought you into misery.

Maid.
You need not
Tell me the thing I know, by sad experience.

Cal.
Cannot I make you tell me, who's the father?

Maid.
I've kept it secret hitherto—But now
It all must out—For since he's present here,
I must perforce declare it—

Din.
[aside.]
I am petrified.
Wretch that I am! I dare not stir—'Tis all
Discover'd now; I'm trying for my life.
It was my folly, my foul deed: I fear
She'll name me soon—

Cal.
Tell me, who was't debauch'd
My virgin daughter?

Maid.
Why, I see him by you.

Cal.
Hussy! who is't?

Maid.
He who supports the wall.

Din.
I'm nor alive, nor dead—Nor do I know
What I've to do—How shall I face him? How
Get off?—I'm stupified with fear—

Cal.
Well, will you
Tell me, or no?

Maid.
Dinarchus; he, to whom
You had before espous'd her—

Cal.
And where is he?

Din.
Here, I am, Callicles: and by these knees
Adjure you, that what I with folly did,
You would with wisdom bear, and pardon me—
Wine was the cause; reason had lost her sway.

Cal.
I like not this—You throw the blame on that
Which can say nothing; for, could wine but speak,
Wine would defend its cause—'Tis not for wine
To guide and rule men's conduct—Wine is but
The slave of virtuous men; and, the debauch'd,
Whether they drink, or whether they abstain,
Will be debauch'd—The fault is in their hearts.

Din.
Many reproaches I must hear, I'm sensible,
Which I would not—I own besides, I have
Offended you—I'm privy to the crime.

Maid.
I beg you would not injure any, Callicles—
While the defendant pleads his cause at large,
You keep the witnesses in bonds—

Cal.
Unbind them.
There, get you gone— [to the maid.]
Do you go home—And you
[to Sura.
The same; and tell your mistress to restore
The child where 'tis demanded—As to you,
Dinarchus, you must go before the Prætor.

Din.
Why summon me before the magistrate?
Yourself shall be the judge—And, Callicles,
I beg you would consent that I may marry her.

Cal.
By Pollux! I perceive how you had judg'd
The thing, yet would not stay for my consent,
But serv'd yourself—As you have caught her, take her—
I'll fine your folly tho'—I shall deduct
For that, six Attic talents from her fortune.

Din.
You treat me kindly—

Cal.
You had best demand
Your son, and, soon as possible, take home
Your wife—I'll strait return my kinsman's messenger,
And let him know, he must look out his son
Some other match—

[Exit.
Din.
I'll claim my child, for fear
She should deny it—But that can't be, for she
Had openly declar'd the whole to me,
And of her own accord—By Pollux! see,
Most luckily she's coming—On my word
She has a long sting to wound my heart from thence.

SCENE IV.

Enter PHRONESIUM and ASTAPHIUM.
Phro.
She's an insipid and a dirty trollop,
Who even in her cups neglects her interest.
Tho' she is over head and ears in wine,
Tipsy from top to toe, yet let her mind
At least be sober—I am vex'd at heart,
Poor Sura has been treated so severely.
The child is prov'd to be Dinarchus' son:
She said—Where heard she that?—Yet all I have,
Children and all are his—Look here! I see
The man who made me guardian of his fortune.

Din.
Woman, I'm come to you—

Phro.
What would you have
My love?

Din.
No love—Truce with your fooleries.
I've nothing more to do with them—

Phro.
I know
What 'tis you want, and what 'tis you demand,
And what you seek for—To see me was what
You wanted; you demand my love, and seek for
The child—

Din.
Immortal gods! how plain she speaks!
And how concisely to the point she comes!

Phro.
I know you are betroth'd—I know you have
A son by your betroth'd—and soon you are
To marry her; and in another place
Your heart's now fix'd, and I'm to be forsaken.
But ne'ertheless reflect, the little mouse,
How sage a brute it is! who never trusts
Its safety to one hole: for when it finds
One entrance is block'd up, it has secure
Some other outlet—

Din.
Well, when we have leisure,
We'll discourse farther of these matters—Now
Restore the child—

Phro.
Nay, only a few days
I beg, you'd suffer him to be with me.

Din.
By no means—

Phro.
Do—I beg you do—

Din.
For what?

Phro.
'Tis for my interest—But for three days only,
'Till I can some how trick my noble captain.
If I have any gains, you shall have part.
Take the child from me, and you kill all hopes
I've in the Captain—

Din.
Well, I wish it so—
But there's no room for me to make that wish
Effectual, if I would—Now you've the child,
Do your best with it, and take care of it:
You've wherewithal—

Phro.
And for this kindness, I
By Castor! love you—And whene'er you fear
A scolding bout at home, fly here to me,
And be at least an useful friend—

Din.
Farewell,
Phronesium.

Phro.
Don't you call me then your love?

Din.
That name may now and then by stealth be mention'd.

Phro.
Any thing else?

Din.
Be mindful of your health.
When I have need, I'll visit you again.

[Exit.
Phro.
He's gone, he's fled—Now I may speak my mind.
The proverb's true—Best friends are sometimes troublesome.
On his account, the captain saw himself
Shut out to-day; whom, better than myself
I love, by Castor! So I gain my ends—
But when all comes to all, to say no more,
Little remains of what we get by trade—
Such are the glories of a courtezan!

Ast.
Hist, Hist! Phronesium!

Phro.
What's the matter now?

Ast.
Here is the father of the child—

Phro.
If he,
And only he, let him come when he will,
And come the nearest road—By Castor! if
He comes, I by my artifice will ease him,
First of his cash—Then pack him off again.

[Exeunt.