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SCENE III.
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SCENE III.

MERCURY appears above, with a Chaplet on his Head, pretending to be drunk.
Merc.
Who's at the door?

Amph.
'Tis I.

Merc.
I? who is I?

Amph.
'Tis I, I tell you.

Merc.
Jove and all the Gods
Owe you a spite, you bang so at the door.

Amph.
How?

Merc.
How?—that you may live a wretch for ever.

Amph.
Sosia.

Merc.
Ay, I am Sosia:—you don't think
That I've forgot my name?—What is't you want?

Amph.
Ask what I want, you villain?

Merc.
Yes, you fool!
You've almost tore our door here off it's hinges:
Think you we're furnish'd at the publick charge
With doors?—You numscull! why d'ye stare so at me?
What would you have?—Who are you?

Amph.
You whipt knave,
D'ye ask me who I am?—You hell of elm-rods!
I'll make you burn with smart beneath the scourge

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For these affronts.

Merc.
Why sure you must have been
A spendthrift in your youth.

Amph.
For why?

Merc.
Because
In your old age you beg a choke-pear of me.

Amph.
Slave! I will have you tortur'd for this language.

Merc.
I sacrifice to you.

Amph.
How?—what d'ye mean?

Merc.
I offer a libation of ill luck.

(Throwing water.)
[What follows is supplied by another hand, the original being lost.]
Amph.
Is this your off'ring, rascal?—If the Gods

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Preserve me what I am, your back shall bend
With many a leathern thong, laid heavy on it;
Victim of Saturn!—Yes—I'll sacrifice you—
With torture on the gallows.—Come you out,
You hang-dog.—

Merc.
Apparition!—What, you think
To fright me with your threats?—But if you don't
Take to your heels, if you dare knock, or touch
Our door here even with your little finger,
I'll beat about your pate so with this tile,
You'll sputter tongue and teeth out all together.

Amph.
You rascal! wo'n't you suffer me to come
Into my own house? knock at my own door?—
I'll pluck it off the hinges.

(Beating vehemently.)
Merc.
You persist?

Amph.
I do.

Merc.
Take this then.

(Throwing a tile.)
Amph.
Villain! at your master?
If I but catch you, to such misery
I will reduce you, you shall live a wretch
For evermore.

Merc.
You've play'd the Bacchanalian,
Old grey-beard.


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Amph.
Why?

Merc.
To think I am your slave!

Amph.
Not think it?

Merc.
Plague confound you! for I own
No master but Amphitryon.

Amph.
Have I lost
My form?—'Tis strange that Sosia should not know me!
I'll make a further tryal.—Hola! tell me,
Whom do I seem? is't plain I am Amphitryon?

Merc.
Amphitryon?—Are you mad?—I told you, dotard,
That you had play'd the Bacchanalian,
To ask another, who you are!—But go,
Go, I advise you, and make no disturbance:—
Amphitryon is return'd, and is at rest
A-bed now with his wife.

Amph.
What wife?

Merc.
Alcmena.

Amph.
Who is?

Merc.
How often would you have me tell you?
Amphitryon my master.—Don't be troublesome.

Amph.
Who is he with?

Merc.
Beware you do not seek
Your own mischance in trifling with me thus.

Amph.
Nay prithee tell me, my good Sosia, do.

Merc.
Now you bespeak me fairly!—with Alcmena.

Amph.
In the same chamber?

Merc.
The same chamber,—yes,
And the same bed too.

Amph.
O I am most wretched!


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Merc.
(Aside.)
What he counts loss, is gain.—To lend one's wife,
Is to let out a barren land for ploughing.

Amph.
Sosia!

Merc.
Well—what a plague now would you have
With Sosia,—Sosia?

Amph.
Don't you know me, sirrah?

Merc.
I know you for a wrangling saucy fellow.

Amph.
Yet once more,—tell me,—am I not Amphitryon,
Your master?

Merc.
You are Bacchus,—not Amphitryon.
How often would you have me tell it you?—
Must I repeat it?—Our Amphitryon's here,
And hugging his sweet spouse.—If you persist,
I'll bring him hither,—to your cost I warrant you.

Amph.
I would that you would call him here.—Pray heav'n,
(Aside.)
I may not lose for my good services
My country, house, wife, family, and Myself!

Merc.
I'll call him!—But mean while get from the door.—
The sacrifice is ended, I suppose,
And now to dinner.—Prithee don't disturb us,—
Or I will make a sacrifice of you.

[Mercury withdraws.

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Amph.
Ye Gods! what madness has possess'd our house!
What wonders have I seen since my arrival!—
Now do I hold those fabulous tales for true,
Which I have heard of old, that Attic men
Were in Arcadia turn'd to savage beasts,
So that their friends could never know them after.