University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Enter GRUMIO and TRANIO.
GRUMIO.
Come from your kitchen, will you? Out, you rogue,
You who're so smart upon me 'midst your platters:
Out of the house, thou ruin of thy master—
By Pollux! let me catch thee in the country,
And, as I live, I'll soundly be reveng'd.—
Steam of the kitchen, why do'st hide thyself?

Tra.
You scoundrel, why this noise before the house!
Think you, you're domineering in the country?
Get from the house—Into the country—Hence.—
Go and be hang'd—Get farther from the door—
What! was it this you wanted then—

[striking him.
Gru.
Oh! Oh!
What do'st thou strike me for?

Tra.
Because you wanted it—

Gru.
Well, I must bear it—Let our old master but
Return again; let him but safe arrive,
Whom you are eating up while he's abroad—

Tra.
You clown, you prate nor truth nor likelihood.
How eat at home a man who is abroad?

Gru.
You! the mob-minion! the town-wit! You cast
The country in my teeth! We soon shall have you
Brought to the work-house there: by Hercules!
You'll visit us in chains e'er long, and add
One to the number of our iron race—
Now, while 'tis in your power, use your time:
Drink on, confound, corrupt your master's son.
An excellent young man!—Days, nights together,
Consume in riot—Be true Greeks; buy wenches,
And set them free; feed parasites; and feast,
Magnificently feast yourselves—Were these
Our master's orders when he went abroad?
Thus shall he find things husbanded at home?
This think'st thou a good servant's duty, this?
To ruin both his son and his estate!—
For, ruin'd I esteem him, who acts thus—
A youth, who us'd to bear the palm in Athens
For temperance and frugality. But now
Ranks foremost in the opposite—Effects
Of thy fine tutoring, thy virtuous care!

Tra.
You rascal, what have you to do with me,
Or with my actions? Have you not your cattle
To look to in the country? 'Tis my pleasure
To drink, to love, to keep my girls. I do it
At the hazard of my own back, not of yours.

Gru.
With what assurance does the fellow prate?
Fie, fie upon it!—

Tra.
Now may Jupiter
And all the Gods confound thee! How thou stink'st
Of garlick! Filth by nature, rustick, goat,
Foh! thou meer hog-sty—Dog and goat together—

Gru.
What would'st thou have me do? We cannot all
Stink as you do of foreign sweets; nor fill
The upper place at table; nor all live
On dainties like yourself—Well, Sir! Enjoy
Your turtle-doves, fish, wild fowl; and let me
Do, tho' I stink, the duties of my station.
Thy fortune's happy, miserable mine—
Both must be borne—Why let them, so my good
'Bide but with me, as shall your ill with you.

Tra.
Grumio, you seem as if you envy'd me,
Because 'tis well with me, and ill with you.
Tho' 'tis but what is just: It fits my station,
To keep my wenches; yours, to keep your cattle;
Mine to live well, and yours to feed with hogs.

Gru.
Thou sieve of flesh! for such will be the end;
So shall thy hide be finely pink'd, as through
The streets thou bear'st thy gibbet, if our master
But once return—

Tra.
How know'st thou, Grumio,
But such may be thy fate sooner than mine?

Gru.
Because I've not deserv'd it as thou hast;
And still deserv'st—

Tra.
Shorten your tale, unless
You wish t'enhance your punishment—

Gru.
Will you
Let me have fodder then to feed my beasts?
If you have none, why give me money for it;
And, on then with your business—Oh! for me,
As you've begun; drink, live like Greeks, eat, stuff,
E'en till you burst; kill all your fatted dainties—

Tra.
Peace, get into the country—Now will I
Away to market, and buy fish for supper:
I'll send you fodder for the farm to-morrow.
What now? Why do you stare at me, you jail-bird—

Gru.
That name will better suit you by-and-by:
Yes, 'twill by Pollux!—

Tra.
Suit then what suit may:
So I'm well now, I heed not by-and-by.

Gru.
Ay, that's your care—But this one thing be sure of—
Troubles come on us, swifter much than things
We wish—

Tra.
Yes, you're already come to trouble me.
But hence!—To th'country—Take yourself away.
'Tis the last time, mark that, you e'er shall stay me.

[Exit.
Gru.
[alone.]
Is he quite gone? E'en so; nor cares a rush
For ought I've said—Your aid, immortal Gods!
Send us, O send us back my good old master,
These three years gone—Gods! send him home again,
E'er house and farm, and all is gone to wreck.
If he return not in a few months more,
No remnants will remain—I'll to the country—
For see! my master's son is coming hither,
Once a deserving youth—now, quite corrupted—

[Exit.

SCENE II.

Enter PHILOLACHES.
Phi.
I've long and often thought, and argued deep,
And in my heart (if I have any heart)
Have long debated and revolv'd, What's man
Just born, to be compar'd to? and have now
Found out his likeness. Man is a new house—
I'll tell you how; and, tho' you think it not,
I will convince you, what I say is true.—
When you have heard, you'll think and say as I do.
Lend me your ears, and you shall hear my arguments;
For I'd have all as knowing as myself—
As soon as e'er an edifice is plann'd,
Built up in tast, and polish'd with exactness,
The architect's commended: and his house
By all approv'd; each takes it for a model,
And spares no pains, no cost to have one like it.
But when a tenant comes, unthrifty, mean,
Neglectful, with a lazy family,
The fault is strait upon the building laid;
Good in itself, but kept in bad repair.—
Then, as it often happens, comes a storm;
Demolishes the tiling, spoils the gutters,
And the too careless owner takes no heed
The damage to repair. A shower of succeeds;
Washes the walls, the roof admits the water,
The weather rots the builder's edifice,
The house grows worse by use: and in all this
The architect is not at all to blame—
A great part of mankind affect delay;
And, if it cost them money to repair it,
Delay it still, till ev'ry wall falls in,
And the whole's new again from the foundation—
Thus much for buildings.—Now, how men are like them.
First then—All parents are their children's architects;
They first lay the foundation, and then raise
The superstructure of their education—
They carefully add firmness; that they may
Become good men; and be an ornament
As well as use and safeguard to their country—
And to such ends, they spare nor cost nor pains;
Expence on this account, they count for nothing:
Refine their manners, teach them letters, laws:
And by their cost and care, endeavour still
That other men should wish their children like them—
Then to the army—There their fathers place them
Under protection of some great relation;
And so they pass out of the builder's hands,
'Ere they have serv'd a year—You then may see
A sample how the building may turn out.
For I myself, as long as I was under
The builder's hands, was sober all the time,
And honest—But as soon as e'er I follow'd
My own inventions; I at once undid
All that my architect had done before.
Then enter'd idleness—That was the storm
Brought on my hail and rain; quite overthrew
My modesty, and each restraint of virtue,
And utterly until'd me—Heedless I,
Again to cover in my edifice;
Love, like a torrent, rush'd into my heart,
O'erflow'd my breast, and soak'd quite through my soul.
And now, my fortune, credit, and fair fame,
My virtue and my honour, all have left me.
By negligence, I'm grown still worse and worse;
These rafters are so ruinous, so foul,
With rotting moisture, that, by Pollux' temple,
I see no means remain to patch it up:
The whole must fall, and its foundation fail,
Without an hand to help me. My soul's vex'd,
When I but think of what I once have been,
And what I am. None of my age more active,
Or at the discus, javelin, ball, at wrestling,
In horsemanship, in racing, or in arms—
I then enjoy'd me, an example liv'd
Of thrift and of hard living; an example
The best have copied; but I now have found
By following my inventions, after all,
I am myself become as 'twere just nothing.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

Enter PHILEMATIUM and SCAPHA.
Philem.
By Castor's temple! now I swear, my Scapha,
I've not this long while bath'd with greater pleasure;
Nor ris'n more pure from the cold wave, than now.

Sca.
Th'event of every thing with you succeeds,
Like the rich harvest to the year—

Philem.
What's harvest
To my cold bath?—

Sca.
Just what your bath's to harvest.

Re-enter PHILOLACHES.
Philol.
[apart.]
Love's lovely Goddess! This, this is my storm
That strip'd the modesty once cover'd me.
Cupid and love have rain'd into my breast,
Nor can I roof it in. My heart's strong walls
Soak'd thro', my fabrick fails—

Philem.
I prithee, Scapha,
Look if this dress becomes me; for I'd fain
Please my Philolaches, my lov'd protector—

Sca.
That pretty person, is it not adorn'd
Enough with pretty manners? No: our garments
The men admire not, but what stuffs them out.

Philol.
[apart.]
Now as the Gods shall love me, Scapha's waggish.
How knowing the jade is! and how prettily
She has learn'd the art of love, and lover's maxims!

Philem.
What say you now?

Sca.
What should I say?

Philem.
Look at me;
And see if this becomes me?—

Sca.
In yourself
You are so handsome, every thing becomes you.

Philol.
[apart.]
This day, my Scapha, shalt thou find me grateful;
Nor ever shall thy praise of her I love
Pass unrewarded—

Philem.
I'd not have you flatter me.

Sca.
A simple woman! Had you rather then
Be discommended, when there is no room for't,
Than prais'd with truth? By Pollux! I'd much rather
Be spoken well of, tho' there were no truth in't,
Than be found fault with; and to have my beauty
A laughing-stock for others—

Philem.
I love truth:
And wish to have it always spoken to me,
I hate a liar.—

Sca.
May you so love me,
So may your own Philolaches love you
As you are truly charming!—

Philol.
[apart.]
Ah! the jade?
What adjuration!—By my love to her!
Why was not added, by her love to me!
You've lost again your promis'd recompence.
Then I revoke my gifts; 'tis over with you.

Sca.
By Pollux! 'tis amazing! you that are
So clever, so accomplish'd, so brought up,
And not a fool, should act so foolishly—

Philem.
Tell me, if I'm in fault—

Sca.
By Castor! yes.
It is a fault, when your whole wish is center'd
In him alone, and still to humour him
Your chief regard; all other men despis'd.
'Tis a wife's duty, not a courtezan's,
To be devoted to a single lover.

Philol.
[apart.]
Jove! what a plague is this come to my house?
May all the Gods in the worst way confound me,
If I be not the death of that old jade,
By hunger, thirst and cold—

Philem.
I would not Scapha
Should counsel me bad measures—

Sca.
Fool indeed!
If you can think to keep this man for ever
Your friend and benefactor. Take my warning,
When age and when satiety come on,
He will desert you—

Philem.
Nay, I hope not so.

Sca.
Things we not hope for, oftner come to pass,
Than things we wish—If you'll not take my word,
Let fact convince you. See an instance here,
In what I now am, and in what I have been.
I once had my admirers, as you now;
And was to one devoted—And that one
Left me, as soon as age began to change
The colour of my hair—Deserted me—
And this will be your case—

Philol.
[apart.]
I scarce refrain
From plucking out the eyes of this incendiary.

Philem.
'Tis right I keep myself alone for him,
Who of himself alone, with his own money
Gave me my freedom.

Philol.
[apart.]
By the immortal Gods!
She's a sweet girl—and of chast disposition!
By Hercules! I've done well; and I rejoice,
That I'm not worth a drachma for her sake.

Sca.
Silly indeed!—

Philem.
Why so?—

Scap.
To be uneasy,
Whether or no he loves you.—

Philem.
And why, prithee!
Should I not be uneasy?

Sca.
You're now free:
You have what you desire—Of his free choice
If now he did not love you, he'd have lost
The money which he gave to buy your freedom.

Philol.
[apart.]
I'll die myself, by Hercules! but I'll put
That jade to a most cruel death! This bawd,
This ill-persuading bawd is absolutely
Corrupting of the girl—

Philem.
No, never can I
Repay, as he deserves, my obligations.
Scapha, persuade me not to love him less.

Sca.
Expect then, if you will devote your prime
To him alone, to sigh in vain when old—

Philol.
[apart.]
O that I now were chang'd into a quinsey,
To seize her throat, and strangle the vile jade.

Philem.
'Tis fit that I preserve the same mind now
That my desires obtain'd; to compass which,
I sooth'd him with caresses—

Philol.
[apart.]
May the Gods
Act all their pleasure on me, for that speech,
If I'd not free thee once again! and be
The death of Scapha!—

Sca.
If you're well assur'd
Your lover still will to your yoke submit,
And be your own for life, e'en humour him,
And him alone.—Be to him like a wife.

Philem.
People thrive well but as their names are fair.
Let me but keep my fame and character,
I shall be rich enough—

Philol.
[apart.]
By Hercules!
If it must come to selling, I'll e'en sell
My father, rather than I'll suffer thee
To want, or be a beggar while I live—

Sca.
What's to become then of your other lovers?

Philem.
They'll love me better, when they see me grateful.

Philol.
[apart.
O that I now could hear my father's dead,
That I at once myself might disinherit,
And make this girl my heir!—

Sca.
He can't hold long.
Whole days and nights consum'd in eating, drinking,
No thought of thrift—the fellow's a meer sty—

Philol.
[apart.]
By Hercules! you first shall feel my thrift,
For you no more shall eat and drink with me.

Philem.
Speak well of him; talk on: but if you abuse him,
By Castor's temple! you shall suffer for it.

Philol.
[apart.]
By Pollux' temple! had I sacrific'd
To mighty Jove what I disburs'd for her,
I'd not so well bestow'd it—Mark how well,
How heartily she loves me—Wisely done,
To plead my cause, I've freed an advocate.

Sca.
Philolaches, I see, outweighs mankind
In your esteem—I'd better join with you,
Than smart for him, since you're so well assur'd
He'll be your friend for ever—

Philem.
Reach the mirror;
The casket too, where all my trinkets are:
Quick! that I may be dress'd, when my delight,
My dear Philolaches shall hither come.

Sca.
The woman that neglects herself, her youth,
Had need a mirror use: but why should you,
Who are yourself a mirror to the mirror?

Philol.
[apart.]
Scapha, that pretty turn, shall something add
To your own stock. Sweet Philematium!

Philem.
See if each hair be nice, and in its place.

Sca.
So nice yourself, doubt not your hair's so too.

Philol.
[apart.]
What character can e'er be given worse
Than is that jade's? All flattery now; before,
All opposition—

Philem.
Quick! give me the white.

Sca.
What need have you of white?—

Philem.
To paint my cheeks.

Sca.
Oh! that's like making ivory white with ink.

Philol.
[apart.]
Wittily said that of the ink and ivory!
'Tis well said, Scapha; I applaud you for it.

Philem.
Give me the red then!—

Sca.
No—You're merry sure!
What! spoil a finish'd piece with a new daubing?
Such bloom as thine, no paint should ever touch,
No wash come near, ceruse, nor white of Melo—

Philem.
Take then the mirror—

Philol.
[apart.]
What a jade! she has kiss'd it.
O for a stone to break it all to shatters!

Sca.
Here, take the towel—Wipe your hands—

Philem.
Why so?

Sca.
Lest having touch'd the mirror, they smell silvery;—
And never must Philolaches suspect
You have been touching silver—

Philol.
[apart.]
I scarce know
I ever met with a more cunning bawd—
Why, what a witty thought; a subtle one
The jade had 'bout the mirror!—

Philem.
What do'st think?
Should I perfume me?—

Sca.
By no means.

Philol.
And why?

Sca.
A woman's best smell is to smell of nothing:
I swear 'tis true—Your 'nointed hags, who still
New vamp themselves, and hide with paint their wrinkles,
When once the sweat and perfumes mix, will stink
Worse than the greasy compound, when a cook
Pours all his broths together. None can say
Of what they smell; but only they smell ill.

Philol.
How learnedly the jade treats every thing!
The knowing ones less knowing than herself!
[to the spectators.
You know this true, who have old wives at home,
That bought you with their portions—

Philem.
This gold robe!
See, does't become me well enough, my Scapha?—

Sca.
That is not my concern—

Philem.
Then, prithee, whose?

Sca.
I'll tell you—'Tis Philolaches's—His;
That he may never buy you what you like not:
For 'tis with gold and purple lovers buy
Their mistress' favours; and what need have you
To make a shew of what he does not want.
Hide age in purple—Gold becomes not youth,
A naked beauty is more charming, than
From head to foot in purple. 'Tis in vain
A woman is well dress'd, if ill behav'd.
Ill conduct soils the finest ornaments,
As bad as dirt: for if a woman's handsome,
She's dress'd enough—

Philol.
[apart.]
Too long I've held me from her.
What are you two about?—

[shewing himself.
Philem.
I'm decking out
Myself to please your eye—

Philol.
You're dress'd enough.
Do you go in [to Scapha]
and take this finery.
But you, my Philematium, my delight,
I would regale with you—

Philem.
And I am for you,
My love, my only joy, your pleasure's mine.

Philol.
That word, my love, is cheap at twenty minæ.

Philem.
Then give me ten, my dear—I'll sell a bargain.

Philol.
You have got ten already—Cast the account.
I gave just thirty minæ for your freedom

Philem.
And why reproach me?—

Philol.
Can I then reproach thee?
With what I wish to be reproach'd myself?
I have not laid out money, many a day
More to my satisfaction—

Philem.
And I'm sure,
I never better can employ my pains,
Than in the love I bear you—

Philol.
We're agreed—
Debtor and creditor—We love each other,
And both, we think deservedly—May all
Who joy in ours, joy in their own good fortune,
Who envy us, ne'er envy'd be themselves—

Philem.
Then take your place—Some water for our hands—
Boy, set the little table here—The dice—
Would you have perfumes?—

Philol.
Ah! what need of perfumes?
When happy, I recline myself near you.
But is not that my friend, who's coming hither,
And with his mistress too?—See Callidamates
Approaches with his mistress—Come on, love—
Our comrades! See, they expect to share our plunder—

SCENE IV.

Enter CALLIDAMATES [drunk] and DELPHIUM.
Cal.
Come in good time, and fetch me from Philolaches.
[to a servant.
Hear—that's my order—For from where I've been,
I e'en took to my heels, so tir'd I was
With both their entertainment and discourse.
Now—for Philolaches—and make a bout on't:
He will receive us jovially and well—
Do I seem drunk, my mam—

[to Delphium.
Del.
No otherwise
Than you should always be.—

Cal.
I'll hug you then,
And you'll hug me—

Ded.
If you desire it, ay—

Cal.
You're a sweet soul—Eh! Hold me up, my dear.

Del.
Take care you do not fall.—Stand up—

Cal.
Oh! ho!
My sweetest—I'm thy child, my honey, I—

Del.
Take heed, or you'll recline upon the ground,
E'er we can reach the couch prepar'd for us—

Cal.
Let me fall then—

Del.
Fall then, and take the consequence.
I'm on the totter—Fall you, I fall with you—
Then both being down, some one shall help up both of us—
He's sadly drunk—

Cal.
Does mam-my say, I'm drunk?

Del.
Give me your hand—I would not have thee hurt.

Cal.
Here, take it—Stay—keep along with me, tho'—
Where am I go—ing—go—ing?—Can you tell?

Del.
Yes, sure—

Cal.
Oh! now it comes into my head—
I'm go—ing home—to spend the evening—

Del.
Certainly—

Cal.
Yes—to be sure—I well remember that—

Philol.
[to Philem.]
Will you not give me leave, my soul, to meet 'em?
He's one of all my friends I've most regard for.
I will return e'en now—

Philem.
Ah! that e'en now
To me's an age—

Cal.
Is any body there?

Del.
There is—

Cal.
That's well. Philolaches, good day—
My best of friends—

Philol.
God save you, Callidamates!
Here, take your place—Whence is it you come now?

Cal.
Whence should a man that's drunk?—

Philol.
Why, well said, boy.
Come, if you love me, Delphium, take your place.

Cal.
Give her some wine—I'll go to sleep directly—

Philol.
His constant trade—Nought strange or wonderful.
What, my dear Delphium, shall I do with him?

Del.
E'en leave him as he is—

Phil.
Come on then—Boy,
A cup of wine round, and begin with Delphium.

SCENE V.

Enter TRANIO.
Tra.
[apart.]
Great Jove with all his might, and all his power,
Is seeking mine, and my young master's ruin.—
All hope is gone—No ground remains for courage,
Nor could salvation's self, had she a mind,
Now save us. What a mountain of distress
Have I just seen at port! My master's landed,
And Tranio ruin'd—Is there any here
[to the spectators.
Would earn a little gain, and take my place
At the whipping-post?—Where are your hardned rogues
Will bear a flogging?—Or, for a trifling sum,
Would with their lances, dare attack a tower—
Where you may have five hundred spears at once
Fix'd in your body—I will give a talent
To the first man shall run and seize my gibbet.
But 'tis on this condition, that his legs
And arms be doubly bound; and when that's done,
Let him demand his money: he shall have it.
But what a dog am I not to scour home—?

Philol.
Our supper's come—See, Tranio, from the port.

Tra.
Philolaches—

Philol.
The matter?—

Tra.
I and you—

Philol.
What do you mean by I and you?—

Tra.
Are ruin'd.

Philol.
How so?—

Tra.
Your father's here.—

Philol.
What's that you tell me?

Tra.
Undone! undone!—I say, your father's coming—

Philol.
Where is he, prithee!—

Tra.
Just upon my heels—

Philol.
Who says so? Who has seen him?—

Tra.
That have I.
I say, I saw him—

Philol.
What am I about?

Tra.
A mischief on you! ask what you're about?
About your supper—

Philol.
You yourself have seen him!

Tra.
I have, I say—

Philol.
Indeed!—

Tra.
I say, indeed—

Philol.
Undone indeed, if what you say is true.

Tra.
What shall I get by telling you a lie?

Philol.
What's to be done?—

Tra.
Order these things away—
Who's that asleep?—

Philol.
Why, Callidamates—

Tra.
Awake him, Delphium—

Del.
Callidamates!
Why, Callidamates! awake—

Cal.
Well—well, [drunk]

I wake—Give me a cup of wine.—

Del.
Wake, wake—
Philolaches's father's just arriv'd—

Cal.
I hope—his father's well—

Philol.
He's well—and I
Undone—

Cal.
Undone! How can that be?—Undone!

Philol.
Up—Here's my father coming—

Cal.
Father coming—
Bid him—begone again—What comes he here for?

Philol.
What shall I do? Wretch! Shall my father find me
Immers'd in riot; his house full of guests,
And wenches?—A sad job, to dig a well,
When your throat's parch'd with thirst—And that's my case;
Who, now my father's come, am quite bewildered.

Tra.
See how he nods! He's fast again—Wake, rouse him.

Philol.
What not wake yet! My father will be here
Immediately, I tell you—

Cal.
Father, say you?
My pumps! I'd arm—I'll kill your father for you.

Philol.
Peace! you'll spoil all—I beg you, lead him in
Immediately—

[to Delph.
Cal.
A jourdan! or by Hercules!
I'll make one of you all—

[he is led off.
Philol.
Undone—

Tra.
No—Courage!
My wit shall ease you of that fear—Have courage—

Philol.
Quite ruin'd—

Tra.
Peace! I shall contrive for you,
To lay this storm—Shall you be satisfied,
If I not only bar your father's entrance
Within these doors, but make him fly the house?
Go all into the house; and with you take
These things—Make hast—

Philol.
And where then I, the while?

Tra.
Where you like best—With this girl, or with that—

Del.
Why, what's the matter now? Are we to move?

Tra.
No farther off than this; [pointing with his finger.]
nor need you drink
One cup the less on that account.—

Philol.
Fine words!
But where they'll end—I'm in a sweat for fear.

Tra.
Can you be quiet, and obey command?

Del.
Yes, yes, I can—

Tra.
First, Philematium then
Walk in; and Delphium, you—

Del.
We're all obedience.

[Exeunt Phil. and Delph.
Tra.
Jove grant you may! Now mark what I'd have done.
First, when the doors are lock'd, take heed within
That not a whisper's heard—

Philol.
I'll warrant you—

Tra.
As if no living soul were in the house—

Philol.
Well—

Tra.
And be sure let no man answer, when
The old man knocks—

Philol.
Any thing farther?—

Tra.
Bid them
Bring out to me the master key of the house,
That I may lock the door on the outside.

Philol.
To thy protection, Tranio, I commend
Myself and all my hopes—

[they go in.
Tra.
It matters not
A feather, be a man supported, or
By patron, or by client, if himself
Wants steadiness and courage. Every one
Or best or worst, can act with craft enough,
Tho' ne'er so suddenly—Give me the key,
Go in and shut the door— [to the Boy, who goes in.]
but the great care
And mastery of the art, is, where the roguery
Is plann'd and executed, so to manage
That nothing rise to shame the great projector:
That all run smooth, and happy be the issue:
As you shall see me do, and all this bustle
Glide glibly on, without a check to hurt us—
Re-enter BOY.
But what d'you mean by coming out? Undone!
How well my orders are obey'd!—

Boy.
My master
Has order'd me most earnestly to beg you
Some how to scare his father from the door.
See, here he comes—

Tra.
Go back, and tell him this;
That I shall take such measures, he shan't dare
To look upon the house; but veil his head,
And run away for fear—Give me the key—
In—Shut the door—I'll lock it without side.
[Exit Boy.
Now let him come—And he shall see alive
Such games perform'd to his honour, as I trust,
Will ne'er be paid him dead—But I'll retire,
And reconnoitre, where I best may load
His shoulders with this burthen, when he enters—

[Exit.