 | The Treasure |  |
SCENE IV.
Enter STASIMUS running, at a distance.Stas.
(to himself)
Run, Stasimus,
Be quick, and hie thee with what speed thou canst
Home to thy master, or thy sluggard folly
Will make thy shoulders shrug for fear.—Then haste thee,
Quicken thy pace;—thou hast been gone from home
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Smack not upon thee, if thou should'st be absent,
When that thy master make for thee enquiry.—
Run, run then without ceasing.— (Stopping)
Hold thee,—Stasimus,
What a sad fellow art thou, to forget
Thy ring, and leave it at the tippling-house,
Where thou hadst warm'd thy gullet?—Back again,
And ask for't ere too late.—
Charm.
Whoe'er he be,
He skips and frisks about, as if an horse-fly
Had him to break, and taught him the menage.
Stas.
Art not asham'd, to lose thy memory
In drinking but three pottles?—or didst think
The men thou drank'st with were such honest souls,
They'd keep their hands from picking. There was Theruchus,
Cerconicus, Crinnus, Cercobulus, Collabus,
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Knights of the chain, and squires o'th'whipping-post.
And canst thou hope then from among such fellows
To get thy ring, when one of them did steal
A racer's shoe off in his utmost speed?
Charm.
'Fore heav'n, a finish'd thief!
Stas.
What's best to do?
Shall I, in seeking what is gone for ever,
Add loss of labour too?—What's gone, is gone.—
Then tack about, and hie thee to thy master.
Charm.
This is no run-away rogue, that having stray'd
Forgets to find his way home.
Stas.
Would to heav'n,
That the old manners, and the ancient thrift,
Were held in greater honour now-a-days
Than the base fashion of our times.
Charm.
Good heavens!
How gravely and how solemnly he talks!
The old, the old he praises, he is all
For the old manners.
Stas.
Modern uses teach us
To do what best we like, not what is best.
Ambition is by custom sanctified,
Freed from the law's restraint:—To throw away
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Is licens'd by our manners: to make vice
The ready road to honour, is the practice.
Charm.
O villainous manners!
Stas.
To neglect the brave,
And pass them by unheeded, is the custom.
Charm.
'Tis infamous!
Stas.
These manners have o'erpower'd
The laws themselves, and hold them in submission
With more authority than children now
Are us'd to sway their parents. The poor statutes
With iron nails are fix'd against the walls:
But it were fitter our degenerate manners
Were stuck up in their stead.
Charm.
I have a mind
To join, and enter into talk with him,
I hear him with such pleasure: but I fear,
If I address him, the discourse he'll turn
To other matters.
Stas.
Nothing now requires
The sanction of the laws; for these are bent
In pliable subjection to our manners,
Which in their wild career destroy, confound
All sacred and all public rights.
Charm.
A mischief
Light on these manners!
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Does not this require
The reprehension of the public state?
For men of such a stamp, such evil habits,
Are universal enemies to all;
They injure the whole people, while they break
Through faith and honesty; nay, they destroy
All confidence in those, who nothing merit it,
By rend'ring them suspected like themselves:
For 'twill be thought that others dispositions
Resemble theirs.—Now, as for these reflections,
How they have chanc'd to come into my mind,
A certain matter that of late concern'd me
Prompted me with them.—What you lend, is lost;
And when you ask it of your friend again,
You make that friend your enemy by your kindness.
Still would you press him further, of two things
You have the choice, either to lose your loan,
Or lose your friend.
Charm.
Why surely this is Stasimus,
My fellow.
Stas.
For example,—with the talent
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Myself an enemy, and sold a friend.—
But I'm a fool to busy thus my brain
About the public, rather than take heed
To that which most concerns myself, contrive
How to secure my back.—I'll go me home. (Going.)
Charm.
Hola, you,—stop,—hola,—d'ye hear me?—stop.
Stas.
Stop?—I'll not stop.
Charm.
But prithee—
Stas.
What if I
Dislike your prithee?
Charm.
How now?—Stasimus,
You are too saucy.
Stas.
You had better buy
One that will mind your bidding.
Charm.
I have bought,
And paid for one; but if he heed me not,
What should I do?
Stas.
Belabour him most heartily.
Charm.
Your counsel's right, and I'm resolv'd to do so.
Stas.
Except, indeed, that you are bounden to him
For his good services.
Charm.
If you are good then,
I'll hold me bounden to you; but if otherwise,
I'll do as you direct.
Stas.
What is't to me,
Whether your slaves are good or bad?
Charm.
Because
You have a share in't,—in the good or bad.
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As to the one, I give it to you all:
The other (that's the good) place all to me.
Charm.
I shall, if you deserve it.—Turn your head,
And look upon me: I am Charmides.
Stas.
Ha! who makes mention of that best of mortals?
Charm.
That best of mortals, he himself,—'tis I.
Stas.
(turning)
O sea! O earth! O heav'n! O all ye Gods!
Have I my eye-sight clear? and is it he?
Or is it not?—'Tis he!—'tis he, for certain!—
'Tis he indeed!—O my most wish'd-for master,
Save you—
Charm.
And you too, Stasimus.
Stas.
That you're safe—
Charm.
(interrupting)
I know what you would say, and do believe you.
Wave other points: resolve me but in this:
How do my children do, whom here I left,
My son and daughter?
Stas.
They're alive, and well.
Charm.
Both, say you?
Stas.
Both.
Charm.
Gods! 'twas your gracious will
To save me for them.—What I more would know,
I at my leisure will enquire within.—
Let's enter.—Follow.
(Advancing to his house)
Stas.
Whither are you going?
Charm.
Whither but home?
Stas.
You think then we live here?
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Where else can I imagine?
Stas.
Now—
Charm.
What now?
Stas.
This house—is none of our's.
Charm.
What's that you say?
Stas.
Your son has sold it,—
Charm.
Ruin'd!
Stas.
For the ready,
Paid on the spot.
Charm.
For how much?
Stas.
Forty Minæ.
Cham.
Undone!—Who bought it?
Stas.
Callicles, to whom,
While absent, your affairs you trusted: hither
Has he remov'd, and now abides here; us
He has turn'd out of doors.
Charm.
Where lives my son?
Stas.
Here in this back part.
Charm.
Utterly undone!
Stas.
I thought 'twould grieve you, when you came to hear it.
Charm.
What dangers have I past! borne, hapless wretch,
Through oceans vast, to pirates numberless
Expos'd, with hazard of my life!—At length
Preserv'd, return'd in safety, I am lost,
Here perish, and through those, for whom alone,
Old as I am, I struggled with misfortunes.—
I'm sick at heart with grief.—Support me, Stasimus!
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Shall I fetch water?
Char.
When my property,—
When oh! that sicken'd, then you should have pour'd
Your water on it, ere 'twas past recovery.
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