 | The Cheat |  |
SCENE I.
Enter PSEUDOLUS, drunk, with a wreath on his head.PSEUDOLUS.
How's this? [staggering.]
And is it so? Will you stand still
My feet, or not?—Or would you I lie here,
And some one pick me up?—If I do fall,
By Hercules! the fault is all your own.
And will ye on?—Ah! I must now sit down—
There is in this same wine a horrid fault;
It lays you first by the heels—A subtle wrestler!
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Delicious feasting!—delicate fine living!—
So rarely in so rare a place receiv'd!—
But what need many words?—'Tis this makes men
In love with life—Here every pleasure, here
Each grace [Uh!] Ay, next the life the gods live surely.
Here when the lover clasps his mistress' waist,
Joins lip to lip, and presses breast to breast—
Where the white hand puts round the luscious cup
To [Uh!]—friendly friendship—Where none holds his neighbour
In hate or envy—or in senseless prate.
Ointments, perfumes—ribbons and festal wreaths—
Nor was the rest serv'd niggardly—So ask
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This day luxuriously:—my task all finish'd,
Quite to my mind, and all my foes dispers'd.
Feasting, carousing, wenching have I left them,
With each his lass, and mine among the rest,
Indulging every one his heart and soul.
When I rose up, they begg'd of me [Uh] to dance—
And thus—I bore me; to convince them all
'Twas done by art—For at the Ionic step
I am a dab—But having on a cloak,
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I should return—Then thus I took a roll
Up to my love, that she might cuddle me—
When, as I turn'd, down flounc'd I—There, be sure
An elegy was sung to all our fun.
Aiming to rise—So!—Now again, I've nearly
Bedawb'd my cloak—Then, there was mirth in plenty—
Upon my downfall—Strait, a cup of wine—
And down it went—Then I but chang'd my cloak,
And laid aside the other—And came here
To—[Uh.]—ease my stomach after my debauch.
From my young master come I to my old one,
Just to remind him of his bargain struck—
Here! Open, open—Somebody tell Simo,
That I am here—
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