University of Virginia Library

SCENE VII.

Enter HARPAX.
Har.
That slave's a base and wicked fellow, who
Pays to his master's orders no regard.
And he too, who neglects to do his duty,
Unless he's often put in mind of it,
Is good for nothing. They, who deem themselves,
As soon as master's back is turn'd, at liberty;
And give themselves to riot and debauch,
Shall never have another name than slave.
Nor any spark of genius do they shew,
But to maintain them in their wicked sleight.
With such I herd not, speak not; nor am I
Renown'd among 'em. But, as I am order'd,
I deem my master present in his absence;
And dread his anger tho' he is not by:
That when we meet, I may have nought to fear.
'Tis worth attending to. Syrus, to whom
I gave the token, wou'd have let me stay
Till this time in my quarters.—As he bad me,
I staid there—When the bawd came home, he said
He'd send for me.—But since he neither came,
Nor sent, I'm come here of my own free motion,
To see the cause, lest he play tricks with me.
I'd best knock at the door, and give a call
For some one to come out; for I would fain
The pandar should receive of me this money,
And send away the girl along with me.

Bal.
Hark you!—

Sim.
What would you?

Bal.
Here I have my man—

Sim.
How so?

Bal.
Because I'll make a prey of him.
He wants a wench, and has the money ready.
O! how I long to fix my teeth upon him.

Sim.
What, would you eat him?

Bal.
Yes, while he is fresh,
And warm, and fit to please my appetite.
'Tis your chast gentry keep me poor; your lewd ones
I feed on well: my fortune is augmented
By dealing with bad men—The good and true
I lose by—All my profit's from the wicked.

Sim.
[aside.]
Mischievous fellow!—And the gods will give
Mischief to thee, thou art such a wicked rascal.

Har.
But I delay to knock here at the door;
And know, if Ballio is at home.

Bal.
[to Simo.]
'Tis thus
Venus befriends me, when she hither sends
Her sons of dissipation and expence;
Who of their youth and money take such care:
Eat, drink, wench—Quite another kind of creatures,
Than thou art, Simo: suffering not thyself
To indulge, and envying those that do.

Har.
Hola!
Where are you all?

Bal.
He's making to my house.

Har.
Where are you all, I say?

Bal.
Hark you, young man;
What want you there? (This fellow'll be rare plunder)
[aside.
I knew he'd bring good luck!

Har.
Will no one open?

Bal.
You, in the cloak, what business have you there?

Har.
I'm looking for the pandar Ballio's house.

Bal.
Whoe'er you are, you need not look for it long.

Har.
Why so?

Bal.
The man's here, face to face before you.

Har.
And are you he?

Sim.
Take care, man, of yourself; [to Har.]

And point him out—this is an old procurer—

Bal.
And, this a man of probity—but oft
Your man of probity, when cash runs low,
Is set with duns, that make the Forum ring,
And to the old procurer he's oblig'd
For a supply.

Har.
What! won't you answer me?

Bal.
Yes sure. What want you?

Har.
Take your money, do.

Bal.
I'd long been ready, wou'd you give it me.

Har.
Take it—Here are five minæ ready told;
This debt Polymachæroplacides
My master bad me pay you—Just the sum,
And that you send Phœnicium home by me.

Bal.
Your master!

Har.
Ay.

Bal.
The captain!

Har.
Ay, I tell you.

Bal.
The Macedonian captain?

Har.
To be sure.

Bal.
And so, Polymachæroplacides
Sent you to me?

Har.
You say the truth.

Bal.
To give
This money to me?

Har.
Yes, if you're the pandar,
And your name Ballio?

Bal.
Well!—and to bear off
The girl?

Har.
Just so.

Bal.
Phœnicium, did he say?

Har.
You're right.

Bal.
Well, stay a moment, I'll return
Immediately—

Har.
Don't stay, for I'm in haste.
The day's far spent you see—

Bal.
I see it is.
I'll only call him, [pointing.]
here to be a witness
[aside to Simo.
What's to be done now, Simo? say, what course
Are we to take? I plainly smoke the fellow
Who has brought the money.

Simo.
Well, how so?—

Bal.
And do you
Know nought of this contrivance?

Sim.
Just as much
As does the man i'th'moon!

Bal.
By Pollux' temple!
That Pseudolus of your's, a rogue of rogues!
O what a cunning scheme has he contriv'd!
The sum the captain ow'd me, he has given
Here to this fellow, and instructed him
To fetch the girl. Certain, thy Pseudolus
Has hither sent this Counterfeit, as from
The Macedonian captain.

Sim.
Ha'st the money?

Bal.
Do you ask that and see it? Where's your eyes?

Sim.
Good! but remember, one half of the prey
Belongs to me; it is to be divided.

Bal.
Plague on you! that, you may depend upon.

Har.
Will you dispatch me?

Bal.
Presently. What, Simo,
Would you advise me in this case to do?

Sim.
Let's make some sport with this same Counterfeit.

Bal.
Yes, 'till he's sensible he's made a fool of.
Follow me then—And, so you say you are
[to Harpax.
The captain's slave?

Har.
Most certainly.

Bal.
What was
The price he gave?—

Har.
His valour in the field—
In my own country, I was general.

Bal.
What, did your master lay siege to a jail,
That he took you?

Har.
Come, no hard words, friend.
You'll have as much from me.

Bal.
And when do you say
Did you set out from Sicyon?

Har.
Yesterday,
At noon—

Bal.
He's made good hast, by Hercules!
How swift of foot he is: look at his calves,
You'll find by them he can bear heavy chains—
I'll warrant when a boy, he scorn'd a cradle.

Har.
Go, hang yourself!

Bal.
That you yourself may do,
You will have time enough for it in the day.

Har.
Come, send the girl out, or restore the money.

Bal.
Well, stay a little.

Har.
Wherefore shou'd I stay?

Bal.
What give you for the hire of that same cloak?

Har.
What do you mean by that?

Bal.
And of that sword?

Har.
These fellows should be dosed with hellebore.

Bal.
How!—

Har.
Come, ha' done.

Bal.
What do you pay the owner
For that same hat?

Har.
What, owner! Do you dream?
The things are mine, and bought with my own money.

Bal.
With your own back, you mean!

Har.
These dotards here
Have bath'd, and want a'nointing and a rubbing,
As is the custom.

Bal.
Prithee tell me, truly,
What now does Pseudolus give you for this job?
What is your price?

Har.
What Pseudolus do you mean?

Bal.
Your tutor, your instructor in your art,
How you may rob me of my girl by slights.—

Har.
What Pseudolus, what slights do you tell me of?
I know of no such man.

Bal.
Will you not pack?
Here's nothing to be got by counterfeits.
You may go back, and tell your Pseudolus,
One Harpax has been here, beforehand with you,
And carried off the booty.—

Har.
Pollux' temple!
Why I am Harpax—

Bal.
So you wou'd be thought—
But are an arrant counterfeit—No more.

Har.
I'm sure, I paid the money to yourself;
And some time since, on my arrival, gave
The token to your slave, here at the door,
A letter seal'd up with my master's seal.

Bal.
A letter to my slave! To what slave, say.

Har.
To Syrus.

Bal.
This rogue has not brass enough.
He's but a sorry counterfeit, and shallow.
But O rare Pseudolus! By Pollux' temple!
How cunningly the rogue had hid his hook.
Here was the very sum the captain owed,
Ready in hand; and then he had his lesson,
To take the girl away.—For the true Harpax
Gave me that letter here, into my hands.

Har.
My name is Harpax: my condition, slave
To the Macedonian captain. I know no trick.
I play, nor act the counterfeit in aught;
I'm not acquainted with this Pseudolus,
Nor know I who he is—

Sim.
I'm much mistaken,
Procurer, if you've not quite lost your girl.

Bal.
The more I hear, the more I am afraid so,
By Pollux' temple!

Sim.
Ay, the very name
Of that same Syrus made my blood run cold,
Who took the token—Wonderful! 'tis Pseudolus!
Hark you, my lad? What kind of man was he
You gave the ring to?

Har.
Why, a red hair'd fellow,
Gorbellied, and big headed, with sharp eyes,
Thick calves, red face, and his complexion, wainscot—
Swinging large feet—

Sim.
Then you have lost the girl!
The feet are his;—'tis Pseudolus himself.

Bal.
'Tis over with me—and I can't survive it.

Har.
Ay, but you must tho', 'till you've pay'd the money,
My twenty minæ.

Sim.
Twenty more to me.

Bal.
And will you take it of me, when you know
I spake it but in joke.

Sim.
Of a known rascal
'Tis right to make one's market any how.

Bal.
At least, you'll give up Pseudolus.

Sim.
Give him up?
What is his crime? Have I not giv'n you warning,
An hundred times, to be upon your guard?—

Bal.
He has undone me.

Sim.
And has lay'd a fine
On me of twenty pretty minæ.

Bal.
What
Shall I do now?

Har.
Give me the money but,
You may go hang yourself.

Bal.
The gods confound you!
Then to the Forum follow me, that I
May there discharge the debt—

[to Harpax.
Har.
I follow you.

Bal.
This day I clear with strangers:—Fellow-citizens
Must tarry till to-morrow. [to Simo.]
This same Pseudolus
Has from all quarters summon'd all his forces,
And sent this fellow to bear off the girl.
You, follow me.—You must not, Sirs, expect,
[to the spectators.
As matters stand, that I return this way;
By alleys blind, I'll in at the back door.

Har.
Were your legs nimble as your tongue, by this
You'd reach'd the Forum.

Bal.
'Stead of my birth-day,
They've made a dying-day of it to me.

[Exit Ballio, Harpax following.