University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Enter CALIDORUS with a letter in his hand, and PSEUDOLUS.
PSEUDOLUS.
If from your silence, Sir, I could but learn
With what sad cares you pine thus wretchedly,
Gladly I'd save the troubling of two persons,
Myself in asking, you in answering.
But as I cannot learn that way, I'm forc'd
To ask you, and pray answer me this question.
What is the cause, that now for many days
You're so dispirited; and in your hands
Still hold a letter, which you wet with tears:
To none imparting the sad secret?—Now
Speak out; that I may know't as well as you.

Cal.
Ah! Pseudolus! I am a wretched wretch!

Pseu.
Forbid it, Jupiter!

Cal.
This case of mine
Lies not before his court. 'Tis from the sentence
Of Venus that I suffer, not from Jupiter's.

Pseu.
May I not know it, Sir? You us'd e'er now
To make me chief of all your confidants.

Cal.
So would I now—

Pseu.
Then tell me what's the matter,
I shall find means; if not, I shall contribute
My aid, or give good counsel that may serve you.

Cal.
Then take this letter, [gives a letter.]
and there learn what cares
Make me thus wretched, and thus pine—

Pseu.
I'll do
Just as you'd have me—But what's this, I pray?

[looking on the letter.
Cal.
Why, what's the matter?

Pseu.
Sir, in my opinion
The letters fain would propagate their species,
They climb so on the back of one another.

Cal.
For your own sport you play the fool with me.

Pseu.
'Troth, I believe, unless a Sybil reads them,
None else can tell the meaning of the scrawl.

Cal.
Why such sweet letters treat with ridicule,
Wrote on so sweet a table, with a hand
As sweet?

Pseu.
What, in the name of wonder, then,
Have hens got hands?—For nothing but a hen
Could scratch these characters—

Cal.
Impertinent!
Or read the letter, or return it—

Pseu.
Nay,
I'll read it through—But give me your attention.

Cal.
I cannot— My attention's not at home.

Pseu.
Then call it in—

Cal.
No, I'll in silence wait.
'Tis in that letter; call it home from thence;
There my attention's lodg'd, not in my breast.

Pseu.
Methinks I see your mistress, Calidorus!

Cal.
See her!—O, where?

Pseu.
Why in this letter here.
Stretch'd at full length she lies upon the paper.

Cal.
May all the gods and goddesses!—

Pseu.
Preserve me!

Cal.
Not long since, was I like a plant that springs
In solstice season—Sudden I sprang up,
As suddenly decay'd—

Pseu.
Be silent, Sir,
'Till I have read it—

Cal.
Why then don't you read it?

Pseu.
[reading.]
“Phœnicium to her lover Calidorus,
“By means of wax, wood, and expressive letters,
“Sends health—From you she begs health to herself;
“Begs it with weeping eyes, with trembling hand;
“With thoughts distracted, and heart full of fears—”

Cal.
Undone!—For no where find I, Pseudolus,
That health to send her—

Pseu.
What health?—

Cal.
Health in money.

Pseu.
Would you, for health which she sends you on paper,
Return the compliment to her in money?—
Consider what you do—

Cal.
Do but read on;
And from the letter, I'll engage you'll find
What pressing need I have to raise some money.

Pseu.
[reading.]
“The pandar, you must know, my dear, has sold me
“To a Macedonian captain now abroad,
“For twenty minæ—Fifteen he paid down
“E'er his departure—Five remain still due.
“For these, the captain left behind a token,
“His image ta'en in wax from a seal-ring;
“So that whoever brings the like impression,
“The pandar is to send me off with him;
“And the next feast of Bacchus is the day
“Appointed.”

Cal.
That's to-morrow—Near at hand
Thus is my ruin, if you cannot find
Means to prevent it—

Pseu.
Let me read to the end.

Cal.
I'd have you—For the while you read, with her
I seem conversing—Pray read on—You give me
In this the sweet and bitter mix'd together.

Pseu.
[reading.]
“Now all our loves, and lover's ways familiar,
“Our jokes, and play, sweet converse and sweet kisses,
“Our equal close embracings, wanton woundings
“With tender lips, provoking, gentle pressures
“Of rising breasts; these pleasures are all vanishing,
“From you as well as me; and separation,
“Distance, a desart of all bliss is coming,
“Unless from this sad fate you can preserve me,
“Or think that I alone can make you happy.
“Thus have I taken care, that you should know
“All that I know myself: and shall experience
“Now from the event; what real love you bear me,
“Or what make meer pretences to!—Farewell!”

Cal.
'Tis a sad writing—

Pseu.
Sadly writ, indeed!

Cal.
Why dost not weep?—

Pseu.
My eyes are pumice stones,
I cannot make them shed a single tear.

Cal.
Why so?

Pseu.
I'm of a dry-eyed generation.

Cal.
And will you then adventure nought to aid me?

Pseu.
What can I do for you?

Cal.
Ah me!

[sighing.
Pseu.
Ah me!
I can supply you with ah me's! enough:
Nor need you e'er be sparing of the use of them.

Cal.
Unhappy me! I ne'er shall find, my Pseudolus,
The means of borrowing money any where.

Pseu.
Ah me!

Cal.
I've not a single piece at home.

Pseu.
Ah me!

Cal.
The fellow bears her off to-morrow.

Pseu.
Ah me!

Cal.
Is this the way then you assist me?

Pseu.
I give you what I have—I've of this coin
At home, a fund that's inexhaustible.

Cal.
Nay, then 'tis over with me—Can't you lend
One drachma but?—You shall be paid to-morrow.

Pseu.
Scarcely I think, if I should pawn myself for it.
What could a drachma do?

Cal.
'Twould buy a rope.

Pseu.
For what?

Cal.
To hang myself—For I'm determin'd
E'er dark to take a leap into the dark.

Pseu.
Then who shall pay my drachma, if I lend it?
And would you wilfully go hang yourself,
To cheat me, should I lend it, of my drachma?

Cal.
Should she become another's, and I lose her,
I could on no account survive the loss.

Pseu.
Why do you weep, you cuckow?—You shall live.

Cal.
Have I not cause? when I have neither money,
Nor hope to raise a single piece.

Pseu.
I find then
By the tenor of this letter, that unless
You could weep silver drachma's in her lap,
All you can do to endear you by your tears,
Would be but sending water in a sieve.
But I'm your friend, fear not, I'll not desert you.
I've hopes by hook or crook, this very day
To get you a supply of money somewhere.
And yet I can't tell how—'Tis all to come—
But that it will be so, I make no doubt,
The dancing of my eyelids tell me so—

Cal.
O that your words may be made good by deeds!

Pseu.
You know if once I set my wheels a going,
What stir and bustle I am us'd to raise.

Cal.
My every hope is center'd now in you.

Pseu.
Will you be satisfied, if I this day,
Make the girl yours, or get the twenty minæ?

Cal.
Well satisfied, if so it comes about.

Pseu.
The twenty minæ, then demand of me.
That you may know, I'll make good all I say,
Demand them now—I long to engage for them.

Cal.
Will you this day then get me twenty minæ?

Pseu.
I will—So be no farther troublesome.
And that you may not say I did not promise,
I tell you this beforehand, if I fail,
I'll touch your father for the money.

Cal.
Now may the gods preserve you for my service!
Nay, if you can, for aught my duty hinders,
E'en touch my mother too—

Pseu.
For that be easy,
And sleep on either eye—

Cal.
On either eye!
Or either ear, do you mean?

Pseu.
The latter is
Too trite a saying—Now that none may say
That they were not forewarn'd, I here proclaim
To all both young and old, that here are present,
To all my friends, and those to whom I'm known,
That they this day take more especial care
How they give credit to me.

Cal.
Hist! Be silent!

Pseu.
Why, what's the matter now?

Cal.
The pandar's door!
I hear it creak.—

Pseu.
I would it were his legs.

Cal.
'Tis the old rogue himself is coming forth.

[they stand apart.