University of Virginia Library

There were two brothers, Carthaginians both,
Both opulent, and of a noble family:
One yet is living, but the other's dead.
And this with greater confidence I say,
Because the embalmer, who embalm'd him told me.
The brother who is dead, had but one son.
This only son, when seven years old was stolen
From Carthage, and secreted from his father—
Six years indeed before the old man's death.—
He, seeing he had lost his only son,
Fell sick with grief, making his brother heir;
Then, without taking leave, set out for Acheron.
The kidnapper brought off the child to Calydon;
Here sold him to a rich old man, desirous
Of having children, but averse to marriage.
This old man bought him, without knowing him
To be the son of his old host at Carthage,
Adopted him, and made him when he died
His heir—The young man lives there in that house—
To Carthage shall I now return again—
Have you, good folks, any commands at Carthage?
If so, pay down the ready, or you trifle—
But if you pay it, you will trifle more—
This old man's uncle, old, and living still
At Carthage, had two daughters—Five years old
Was one, the other four: when with their nurse
Together they were lost: and from Megara,
By stealth, convey'd away to Anactorium.
There the kidnapper sold for ready money
Both nurse and children, to a man, (if pandars
Are men) the most accursed upon earth—
Yourselves may farther guess what kind of man
He is, whose name is Lycus—From that town,
From Anactorium, where he liv'd before,
He, on account of gain, remov'd but lately
Hither to Chalydon—In that house he lives.
By that young man here, ignorant who she is,
And little thinking she's his own relation.
Yet he has ne'er enjoy'd her; he's so harrass'd
By that vile pandar, and so tantaliz'd—
As yet he has neither privately debauch'd her,
Nor brought her home in publick, as his own.
The rascal would not part with her: but seeing
How the youth lov'd her, rais'd his price the higher.
The younger sister is a captain's flame,
Who fain would purchase her to be his mistress.
The Carthaginian, having lost his daughters,
Seeks them by sea and land; and at each town
Finds out the courtezans, where'er they live:
Gives gold, prolongs the night in his enquiries,
Whence, of what family, of what estate,
Servile, or free; taken in war, or stolen.
So wisely of his daughters he pursues
The search; so subtlely too. All languages
He knows; but hides his knowledge, he's so true
A Carthaginian. 'Twas but yesten eve,
In short, he landed at this port. The father
Of these two girls is uncle to the youth.
D'ye take it? If you do, then draw it out:
Break it not short; but let the Play go on—
[going.
Hold! I'd almost forgot to tell the rest.
He who adopted this young man, was guest,
And well received by the Carthaginian,
Who will this day be here, and find his daughters;
With this his brother's son—as I've been told.
Well, I go in and dress. And you with coolness,
Remember this—He who to-day arrives here,
Will find his daughters and his brother's son.
Then fare ye well—Attend—I'll go, e'er long
To appear another man. For what remains,
Some remain here, who will explain it to you—
Farewell—Now favour us.—And so the goddess
Salvation be propitious to you all.