 | Phormio |  |
SCENE III.
ANTIPHO, PHÆDRIA.Ant.
Is it come to this?
My father, Phædria!—my best friend!—That I
Shou'd tremble, when I think of his return!
When, had I not been inconsiderate,
I, as 'tis meet, might have expected him.
Phæ.
What now?
Ant.
Is that a question? And from You,
Who know th'atrocious fault I have committed?
Oh, that it ne'er had enter'd Phormio's mind
To give such counsel! nor to urge me on,
In the extravagance of blind desire,
To this rash act, the source of my misfortunes!
I shou'd not have possest her: that indeed
Had made me wretched some few days.—But then
534
Phæ.
I hear you.
Ant.
—while each moment I expect
His coming to divorce me.
Phæ.
Other men,
For lack of what they love, are miserable;
Abundance is your grievance. You're too rich
A lover, Antipho! For your condition
Is to be wish'd and pray'd for. Now, by heaven,
Might I, so long as you have done, enjoy
My love, it were bought cheaply with my life.
How hard my lot, unsatisfied, unblest!
How happy your's, in full possession!—One
Of lib'ral birth, ingenuous disposition,
And honest fame, without expence, you've got:
The wife, whom you desir'd!—in all things blest,
But want the disposition to believe so.
Had you, like me, a scoundrel-pimp to deal with,
Then you'd perceive—But sure 'tis in our nature,
Never to be contented.
Ant.
Now to Me,
Phædria, 'tis You appear the happy man.
Still quite at large, free to consider still,
To keep, persue, or quit her: I, alas,
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That I can neither keep, nor let her go.
—What now? isn't that our Geta, whom I see
Running this way?—'Tis he himself—Ah me!
How do I fear what news he brings!
| Phormio | |