University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Enter CHARMIDES.
To the high ruler of the sea, Jove's brother,
And to his Thetis, I give praise and thanks
With joy and gratitude; to the salt floods,
That having in their pow'r my life, my all,
From their dread realms restor'd me to my country.
To you, great Neptune, above other Gods,
I pay my utmost thanks.—Men call you cruel,
Rude, and severe, of greedy disposition,
Blood-thirsty, fierce, unsufferable, outragious:
But I have prov'd you other; in the deep
I found you of an easy clement nature,
And mild as I could wish.—I've heard before
This commendation of you, and from great ones,
That you were wont to spare the indigent,
And crush the wealthy.—I applaud your justice
In treating men according to their merits.—
'Tis worthy of the Gods to have respect
Unto the poor.—I know you may be trusted,
Though they proclaim you treacherous: for without
Your aid your wild attendants in the deep
Had maul'd me sorely, scatter'd all I have,
All mine, and me too, through the azure plains.
Fierce hurricanes beset the ship, like dogs:
Rain, winds, and waves had broke the masts and yards,
And split the sails, if with propitious peace
You had not been at hand.—Away then, I'm
Resolv'd henceforth to give me up to ease.—
I've got enough.—O with what troubles have I
Struggled, in seeking riches for my son?
But who is this, that's entering now our street?—
A stranger in appearance, and in dress.—
Well,—though I needs must long to be at home,
I'll wait awhile, and see what he's about.

SCENE II.

Enter THE COUNTERFEIT at a distance.
I'll name this day the Festival of Three Pieces,
On which I've let my art out for that sum.
Here I am, from Seleucia just arriv'd,
Arabia, Asia, Macedon,—which I never
Saw with my eyes, nor ever once set foot on.—
Behold, what troubles will not poverty
Bring on a needy wretch!—For those three pieces
Am I compell'd to say, that I receiv'd
These letters from a man, of whom I'm ignorant,
Who he may be; nor do I know indeed,
If such an one was ever born.

Charm.
In troth
This fellow's like a mushroom: he's all head.—
His countenance bespeaks him an Illyrian,
His garb too of that country.

Count.
He, who hired me,
Brought me home with him, told me what he wanted,
Gave me instructions how and what to do:
If of my own head I should throw in more,
Our plot will thrive the better.—I'm apparel'd,
As he would have me:—Money 'tis, that does it:—
My garb he hired from the Play-house.—Now
If my disguise succeed, I'll prove myself
No common cheat.

Charm.
The more I see his looks,
The less I like them.—He's some night-adventurer,
Or cut-purse surely.—How he looks about him,
How he surveys the place, and of my house
Takes special note!—Why sure he marks the place,
To come and rob it by and bye.—'Twere best
To watch him close what he's about:—I'll do so.

Count.
This is the spot my hirer pointed out,
And this the house, where I'm to play my part.
I'll knock then at the door.

Charm.
The fellow makes
Directly to my house.—Egad, I fancy
I must keep watch to-night, though just arriv'd.

Count.
Open the door there—Open—Where's the porter?

Charm.
What do you want, young man?—Why knock you here?

Count.
Prithee, old grey-beard, I have giv'n account
Already, when examin'd at the Customs.—
I want a young man,—somewhere hereabout
He dwells,—one Lesbonicus,—and another
With a white pate as yours is;—he, from whom
I had these letters, said his name was Callicles.

Charm.
(Aside)
'Tis Lesbonicus my own son he seeks,
And Callicles my friend too, in whose charge
I left my means and children.—

Count.
If you know,
Most rev'rend Sire, inform me where they dwell.

Charm.
Why do you want to find them out?—Who are you?
Whence are you? where d'you come from?

Count.
Hey!—You ask
So many questions in a breath, I know not
Which to resolve you first: but if you'll put them
Gently and singly, one by one, my name
I'll tell, and wherefore I have journey'd hither.

Charm.
Well,—as you please. Come,—tell me first your name.

Count.
You ask an arduous task.

Charm.
Why so?

Count.
Because,
Should you set out, before the day began,
With the first part and foremost of my name,
The night would go to bed ere you had reach'd
The hindmost of it.

Charm.
He had need of torches
And of provisions, whoso undertakes
To journey through it.

Count.
I've another name though;
A tiny one,—no bigger than an hogshead.

Charm.
This is a rogue in grain!—But hearkye—

Count.
What?

Charm.
What want you with those persons you enquire for?

Count.
The father of the young man Lesbonicus
Gave me these letters.—He's my friend.

Charm.
(Aside)
I have him,—
He's taken in the manner.—He pretends,
Myself did give him letters.—I will have
Rare fun with him.

Count.
Attend, and I'll proceed.

Charm.
I am attentive.

Count.
He commission'd me
To give one letter to young Lesbonicus,
His son, the other to his friend, to Callicles.

Charm.
A pretty joke, i'faith!—I'll keep it up.—
Where was he?

Count.
He has manag'd matters well.

Charm.
Where?

Count.
In Seleucia.

Charm.
You had letters of him?

Count.
With his own hands he gave them into mine.

Charm.
What sort of man?

Count.
He's taller than yourself
By half a foot.

Charm.
(Aside)
Faith, he has gravel'd me,
To find that I was taller when away,
Than now I'm here.—You knew him, did you not?

Count.
Knew him? A foolish question!—We were us'd
To mess together.

Charm.
Say then, what name bore he?

Count.
A fair one verily.

Charm.
I'd hear his name.

Count.
(Hesitating)
It's—it's—ah me!—his name is.

Charm.
What's the matter?

Count.
I've swallow'd it this instant unawares.

Charm.
How? swallow'd, say you? troth, I like him not,
Who holds his friends inclos'd within his teeth.

Count.
I had it at my tongue's end but just now.

Charm.
(Aside)
'Twas opportune my coming here to day
Before this rascal.

Count.
(Aside)
I am caught most plainly.

Charm.
Have you yet found the name?

Count.
'Fore Gods and men
I own myself abash'd.

Charm.
Behold, how much
You knew him!

Count.
As myself.—It happens oft,
That what we hold in hand, and have in sight,
We look for as if lost.—I'll recollect it
Letter by letter.—It begins with C.

Charm.
Is it Callicias?

Count.
No.

Charm.
Callippus?

Count.
No.

Charm.
Is't Callidemides?

Count.
No.

Charm.
Callinicus?

Count.
No.

Charm.
Is't Callimarchus?

Count.
'Tis in vain to seek it,
Nor do I heed it much, so my own name
I don't forget.

Charm.
But there are many here
Call'd Lesbonicus; and, unless you tell
The father's name, I cannot shew them to you,
Whom you enquire for,—What is't like?—We'll try,
If we can hit upon it by conjecture.

Count.
'Tis like Char.

Charm.
Is it Chares? Charidemus?
Or Charmides?

Count.
Oh, that.—The Gods confound him!

Charm.
'Tis fitter you should bless a friend than curse him.

Count.
A worthless fellow, to have lain perdue thus
Within my lips and teeth.

Charm.
You should not speak
Ill of an absent friend.

Count.
Why did the knave
Then hide him from me?

Charm.
He had answer'd, had you
But call'd him by his name.—Where is he now?

Count.
Truly I left him last at Rhadamanth
In the Cecropian Island.

Charm.
(Aside)
Can there be
A greater simpleton than I, to ask
Where I myself am? But no matter.—Tell me,—

Count.
What?

Charm.
Let me ask, what places have you been at?

Count.
Most wondrous ones.

Charm.
I should be glad to hear,
If 'tis not too much trouble.

Count.
I'm impatient
To give you an account.—Then first of all,
We came to Araby in Pontus.

Charm.
How?
Is Araby in Pontus?

Count.
Yes, it is;
But not that Araby, where frankincense
Is grown, but where sweet-marjoram, and wormwood.

Charm.
(Aside)
'Tis the completest knave!—More fool am I though,
To ask him whence I came, (which I must know,
He cannot,) but that I've a mind to try,
How he'll get off at last.—What is your name,
Young man?

Count.
'Tis Touchit;—that, Sir, is my name,
A common one.

Charm.
A very knavish name;
As though you meant to say, if any thing
Was trusted to you, touch it, and 'tis gone.—
But hearkye,—whither did you further travel?

Count.
Attend, and I'll relate. We journey'd on
To the river's head that rises out of heaven
Beneath the throne of Jove.

Charm.
The throne of Jove?

Count.
I say it.

Charm.
Out of heav'n?

Count.
Aye, from the midst on't.

Charm.
How! you ascended up to heav'n?

Count.
We did;
In a small cock-boat were we carried thither
Against the stream.

Charm.
Oh ho!—And saw you Jove?

Count.
The other Gods inform'd us he was gone
Unto his villa to dispense provisions
Among his slaves.—Moreover—

Charm.
Pshaw! moreover
I want to hear no more.

Count.
Nay, I have done,
If you are tired.

Charm.
How shameless! who pretends,
That he has mounted up from earth to heaven.

Count.
I'll let you go then, since I see you chuse it:—
But shew me where they live whom I enquire for,
Where I may bear these letters.

Charm.
Hearkye now,
If haply you should see this Charmides,
The same that you pretend gave you those letters,
Say, should you know him?

Count.
Think you I'm a beast,
As not to know a man I've past my life with?
Or, can you think, would he be such an oaf,
To trust me with a thousand Philippeans,
Enjoining me to bear them to his son
And Callicles his friend, to whom, he told me,
He had consign'd the charge of his affairs?
Would he, I say, have trusted me, except
We had been well acquainted with each other?

Charm.
(Aside)
Now would I trick this trickster,—if I could
But cozen him of those thousand Philippeans,
He said I gave him! though I know him not,
Nor ever saw him till this day.—What, I
Trust him with gold? who would not even give
A dump of lead to save him from an hanging.—
I must go cunningly to work.—Hoa, Touchit,
Three words with you.

Count.
Three hundred, if you please.

Charm.
Have you the money you receiv'd of Charmides?

Count.
In Philippeans, told upon the nail,
A thousand pieces.

Charm.
You receiv'd them, did you,
Of Charmides himself?

Count.
It had been wondrous,
Had I receiv'd them of his grandsire truly,
Or his great-grandsire,—who are dead.

Charm.
Young man,
Prithee give me the gold.

Count.
Give you what gold?

Charm.
That which you own'd you did receive of me.

Count.
Receiv'd of you?

Charm.
I say it.

Count.
Who are you?

Charm.
Who gave to you the thousand pieces:-I
Am Charmides.

Count.
You're not, nor ever shall be,
I mean, the master of this gold.—Away,—
You are a knowing one!—you'd take me in!—
But I too am a knowing one.

Charm.
I'm Charmides.

Count.
You may be, but in vain.—I bring no money.
You've crept upon me in the very nick
Most slily. When I said I had brought gold,
You then was Charmides; before you was not,
Till I made mention of the gold.—'Twon't do.—
So prithee, as you've taken up the name
Of Charmides, e'en lay it down again.

Charm.
Who am I, if I am not that I am?

Count.
What's that to me? Be whom you please, you're welcome,
So you are not the person I'd not have you.
Before, you was not who you was; and now,
You are who then you was not.

Charm.
Come, dispatch.

Count.
How? what dispatch?

Charm.
Give me the money.

Count.
Sure
You dream, old gentleman.

Charm.
Did you not own,
That Charmides had giv'n it you?

Count.
I did,—
In writing,—not in specie.

Charm.
Prithee hence,
And leave the place this instant, ere I order you
An hearty drubbing.

Count.
Why?

Charm.
Because myself
Am that same Charmides that you've invented;—
Who you pretend has giv'n you letters.

Count.
How!
I pray you, are you he?

Charm.
Yes, I am he.

Count.
What say you? are you he?

Charm.
I am, I say.

Count.
Himself?

Charm.
I say, I'm Charmides,—himself.

Count.
And are you he himself?

Charm.
His very self.—
Out of my sight;—Be gone then.

Count.
Now, because
Your coming was so late, I'll have you beaten
At the new Ædiles' and my own award.

Charm.
What! you abuse me?

Count.
All the gods confound you
For your arrival! I had little car'd,
If you had perish'd first.—I've got at least
The money for my trouble.—Ill betide you!
And now, or who you are, or who you are not,
I value not a straw.—To him I'll go,
Who hir'd me for three pieces, and acquaint him,
How that his money's thrown away.—I'm gone.—
Farewell?—Fare ill!—May all the gods confound you,
For coming from abroad,—you, master Charmides!

[Exit.

SCENE III.

CHARMIDES
alone.
Now he is gone, I've opportunity
And time more freely to debate this matter.—
I am perplex'd, I'm stung at heart, to think
What business he could have now at my door.—
Those letters that he talk'd of fill my mind
With apprehensions;—and those thousand pieces,
What could he mean by them?—The bell doth never
Clink of itself: unhandled, and unmov'd,
'Tis dumb.—But who is this, that down the street
Comes running hither?—I've a mind to watch
What he's about.—I'll step aside.

[Retires.

SCENE IV.

Enter STASIMUS running, at a distance.
Stas.
(to himself)
Run, Stasimus,
Be quick, and hie thee with what speed thou canst
Home to thy master, or thy sluggard folly
Will make thy shoulders shrug for fear.—Then haste thee,
Quicken thy pace;—thou hast been gone from home
A long while.—Have a care then, that the lash
Smack not upon thee, if thou should'st be absent,
When that thy master make for thee enquiry.—
Run, run then without ceasing.— (Stopping)
Hold thee,—Stasimus,
What a sad fellow art thou, to forget
Thy ring, and leave it at the tippling-house,
Where thou hadst warm'd thy gullet?—Back again,
And ask for't ere too late.—

Charm.
Whoe'er he be,
He skips and frisks about, as if an horse-fly
Had him to break, and taught him the menage.

Stas.
Art not asham'd, to lose thy memory
In drinking but three pottles?—or didst think
The men thou drank'st with were such honest souls,
They'd keep their hands from picking. There was Theruchus,
Cerconicus, Crinnus, Cercobulus, Collabus,
A race of broken-shin'd and black-eyed bruisers,
Knights of the chain, and squires o'th'whipping-post.
And canst thou hope then from among such fellows
To get thy ring, when one of them did steal
A racer's shoe off in his utmost speed?

Charm.
'Fore heav'n, a finish'd thief!

Stas.
What's best to do?
Shall I, in seeking what is gone for ever,
Add loss of labour too?—What's gone, is gone.—
Then tack about, and hie thee to thy master.

Charm.
This is no run-away rogue, that having stray'd
Forgets to find his way home.

Stas.
Would to heav'n,
That the old manners, and the ancient thrift,
Were held in greater honour now-a-days
Than the base fashion of our times.

Charm.
Good heavens!
How gravely and how solemnly he talks!
The old, the old he praises, he is all
For the old manners.

Stas.
Modern uses teach us
To do what best we like, not what is best.
Ambition is by custom sanctified,
Freed from the law's restraint:—To throw away
One's shield, and turn one's back upon the foe,
Is licens'd by our manners: to make vice
The ready road to honour, is the practice.

Charm.
O villainous manners!

Stas.
To neglect the brave,
And pass them by unheeded, is the custom.

Charm.
'Tis infamous!

Stas.
These manners have o'erpower'd
The laws themselves, and hold them in submission
With more authority than children now
Are us'd to sway their parents. The poor statutes
With iron nails are fix'd against the walls:
But it were fitter our degenerate manners
Were stuck up in their stead.

Charm.
I have a mind
To join, and enter into talk with him,
I hear him with such pleasure: but I fear,
If I address him, the discourse he'll turn
To other matters.

Stas.
Nothing now requires
The sanction of the laws; for these are bent
In pliable subjection to our manners,
Which in their wild career destroy, confound
All sacred and all public rights.

Charm.
A mischief
Light on these manners!

Stas.
Does not this require
The reprehension of the public state?
For men of such a stamp, such evil habits,
Are universal enemies to all;
They injure the whole people, while they break
Through faith and honesty; nay, they destroy
All confidence in those, who nothing merit it,
By rend'ring them suspected like themselves:
For 'twill be thought that others dispositions
Resemble theirs.—Now, as for these reflections,
How they have chanc'd to come into my mind,
A certain matter that of late concern'd me
Prompted me with them.—What you lend, is lost;
And when you ask it of your friend again,
You make that friend your enemy by your kindness.
Still would you press him further, of two things
You have the choice, either to lose your loan,
Or lose your friend.

Charm.
Why surely this is Stasimus,
My fellow.

Stas.
For example,—with the talent
I lent a friend, what did I? why, I bought
Myself an enemy, and sold a friend.—
But I'm a fool to busy thus my brain
About the public, rather than take heed
To that which most concerns myself, contrive
How to secure my back.—I'll go me home. (Going.)


Charm.
Hola, you,—stop,—hola,—d'ye hear me?—stop.

Stas.
Stop?—I'll not stop.

Charm.
But prithee—

Stas.
What if I
Dislike your prithee?

Charm.
How now?—Stasimus,
You are too saucy.

Stas.
You had better buy
One that will mind your bidding.

Charm.
I have bought,
And paid for one; but if he heed me not,
What should I do?

Stas.
Belabour him most heartily.

Charm.
Your counsel's right, and I'm resolv'd to do so.

Stas.
Except, indeed, that you are bounden to him
For his good services.

Charm.
If you are good then,
I'll hold me bounden to you; but if otherwise,
I'll do as you direct.

Stas.
What is't to me,
Whether your slaves are good or bad?

Charm.
Because
You have a share in't,—in the good or bad.

Stas.
As to the one, I give it to you all:
The other (that's the good) place all to me.

Charm.
I shall, if you deserve it.—Turn your head,
And look upon me: I am Charmides.

Stas.
Ha! who makes mention of that best of mortals?

Charm.
That best of mortals, he himself,—'tis I.

Stas.
(turning)
O sea! O earth! O heav'n! O all ye Gods!
Have I my eye-sight clear? and is it he?
Or is it not?—'Tis he!—'tis he, for certain!—
'Tis he indeed!—O my most wish'd-for master,
Save you—

Charm.
And you too, Stasimus.

Stas.
That you're safe—

Charm.
(interrupting)
I know what you would say, and do believe you.
Wave other points: resolve me but in this:
How do my children do, whom here I left,
My son and daughter?

Stas.
They're alive, and well.

Charm.
Both, say you?

Stas.
Both.

Charm.
Gods! 'twas your gracious will
To save me for them.—What I more would know,
I at my leisure will enquire within.—
Let's enter.—Follow.

(Advancing to his house)
Stas.
Whither are you going?

Charm.
Whither but home?

Stas.
You think then we live here?

Charm.
Where else can I imagine?

Stas.
Now—

Charm.
What now?

Stas.
This house—is none of our's.

Charm.
What's that you say?

Stas.
Your son has sold it,—

Charm.
Ruin'd!

Stas.
For the ready,
Paid on the spot.

Charm.
For how much?

Stas.
Forty Minæ.

Cham.
Undone!—Who bought it?

Stas.
Callicles, to whom,
While absent, your affairs you trusted: hither
Has he remov'd, and now abides here; us
He has turn'd out of doors.

Charm.
Where lives my son?

Stas.
Here in this back part.

Charm.
Utterly undone!

Stas.
I thought 'twould grieve you, when you came to hear it.

Charm.
What dangers have I past! borne, hapless wretch,
Through oceans vast, to pirates numberless
Expos'd, with hazard of my life!—At length
Preserv'd, return'd in safety, I am lost,
Here perish, and through those, for whom alone,
Old as I am, I struggled with misfortunes.—
I'm sick at heart with grief.—Support me, Stasimus!

Stas.
Shall I fetch water?

Char.
When my property,—
When oh! that sicken'd, then you should have pour'd
Your water on it, ere 'twas past recovery.

SCENE V.

Enter CALLICLES.
Cal.
What noise is this I hear before the door?

Charm.
O Callicles! O Callicles! to whom
Have I intrusted my affairs? ah me!
To what a friend?

Cal.
An honest and a faithful,
A trusty one, of strict fidelity.—
I am rejoic'd to see you here return'd
In safety.

Charm.
I believe it all, if so
You prove yourself as you pretend you are.—
But wherefore thus accoutred?

Cal.
I'll inform you.
I have been digging up your treasure here,
To portion out your daughter.—But within
More fully I'll unfold to you both this,
And other matters. Come along.

Charm.
Here,—Stasimus!

Stas.
Sir!

Charm.
Run with speed unto the haven;—make
One running of it;—there you'll find the ship,
That brought me hither: bid Sangario see
The goods unladen, which I order'd;—go then,—
The impost I have paid.

Stas.
I'll make dispatch.

Charm.
Go, get you gone;—be back with speed.

Stas.
I'm there,
And here too, in a twinkling.

Cal.
Will you please
To enter with me?—Come now.

Charm.
I attend you.

[Exeunt Callicles and Charmides.

SCENE VI.

STASIMUS
alone.
This is my master's friend! the only one,
That has stuck firmly to him! he, good man,
Has lov'd him with unchangeable affection!
Oh, he's the only one, I dare be sworn,
That's faithful to him!—Aye,—he has a view
To serve himself in serving of my master.

[Exit.