University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Enter ANTHRAX from MEGADORUS's house.
(Speaking to some within)
Here, Dromo, scale those fishes,—and do you,
Machærio, split that conger and that lamprey,
As fast as possible,—d'ye hear?—and bone them.—
I'm only stepping to next door to borrow
A baking-pan of Congrio.—See, you pick
That capon clean as a young actor's chin.—
How now? what means this uproar at next door?
The cooks are at it, I suppose. I'll in,
For fear that ours should make the same disturbance.

[Goes in.

SCENE II.

Enter CONGRIO hastily from EUCLIO's house.
Room, room, good citizens, dear countrymen,
Inhabitants, and strangers, give me way,
Let me have room to run, clear all the streets
Before me.—Never did I till this day
Go cook for Bacchants at a Bacchanal,
I and my comrades are so bruis'd, so cudgel'd
I'm sore all over, I am scarce alive,
The old hunks has belabour'd me so lustily
By way of exercise.—I never saw
A man in all my life so generous,
So liberal of his wood; for he has loaded
Me and my fellow-cooks with sticks in plenty.
Ha! I am ruin'd, I am dead, I'm done for:
The Bacchanal now opens,—here he comes,
Close after me:—I know what I'm to do,—
Take to my heels,—for so my master taught me.

[Going off.

SCENE III.

Enter EUCLIO.
Eucl.
Come back,—where are you running?—Stop him, stop him.

Cong.
You fool, why do you bawl so?

Eucl.
I will give
Your name in to the magistrate.

Cong.
For what?

Eucl.
Because you have a knife stuck in your girdle.

Cong.
Why so a cook should have.

[Brandishing it.
Eucl.
What! do you threaten me?

Cong.
By good rights I should sheath it in your guts.

Eucl.
There's not a greater rascal breathing, one
That I should take so much delight to cudgel.

Cong.
You need not tell me so; the thing is manifest;
I know it with a witness: you have made
My limbs as soft and pliant as a tumbler's.
But prithee, you poor dog, what has provok'd you
To treat us in this manner? what's the matter?

Eucl.
D'ye ask? What have I not giv'n you enough?

[Going to strike him.
Cong.
Let me alone.—If this head think at all,
I'll make you suffer for't.

Eucl.
I can't tell what
Your head will think; I now know what it feels.
But pray what business had you in my house,
When I was absent? did I send you there?
I should be glad to know.

Cong.
Don't make a noise then.—
We came to dress the wedding-supper.

Eucl.
Plague!
What is't to you, whether I eat my meat
Or drest or raw, except you are my guardian?

Cong.
I should be glad to know, whether or not
You'll let us dress the supper?

Eucl.
And I too,
I should be glad to know, whether my house
Is safe.

Cong.
I wish I had my things again,
Which I brought with me, I should hardly meddle
With any thing of yours.

Eucl.
Well, say no more.

Cong.
But wherefore won't you let us dress the supper?

Eucl.
D'ye ask, you rascal, when ye have been prying
In ev'ry nook and corner of my house,
Made it a downright thorough-fare?—But had you
Stuck to your fire-side, as was your business,
You had not had your crown split, as you've merited.
But now, that you may know my mind, I'll tell you:
Come but a step here nearer to the door,
Unless I order you, and I will make you
The most unhappy of all mortals.—So,—
D'ye know my mind now?—Whither are you going?
Come back again.

[Euclio goes in.
Cong.
Laverna be my friend!
(Hollaing after Euclio)
Hearkye me now, if you don't give me back
The utensils I brought here, I'll expose you
Before your own door.—What now shall I do?
I have been hired for a good round sum,
But it will cost me more to pay the surgeon.

SCENE IV.

Re-enter EUCLIO, with the Pot of Money.
Eucl.
Well, by my faith, this shall accompany me
Where'er I go, I'll always bear it with me,
Nor will I ever trust it in such danger.—
(To Congrio, &c.)
Get ye all in, Cooks, Musick-Girls, and all;
Nay, you may introduce too a whole tribe
Of hirelings, if you will. Fry, stew, bake, boil,
Make as much stir and bustle as you please.

Cong.
Faith in good time, when you have cleft our skulls.

Eucl.
Get you in, sirrah.—You was hired to work,
Not prate.

Cong.
Ha! are you there, old gentleman?
I shall expect you'll pay me for my bruises:
For I was hir'd to cook, not to be drubb'd.

Eucl.
The law is open: don't be troublesome.
Go, dress the supper,—or go hang yourself.

Cong.
Nay prithee go yourself, Sir, if you please.

[Congrio goes in.

SCENE V.

EUCLIO
alone.
He's gone.—Good heav'ns! how rash a thing it is
For a poor man like me to have concern
Or dealings with a rich one.—Megadorus
Tries to surprize me ev'ry way whatever.
Under pretence forsooth to do me honour,
He sent these cooks in to purloin this from me.
(Pointing to his Pot.
The cock too, which belongs to the old jade,
Had near undone me: he began to scratch
The ground up all about, where this was buried.
It so provok'd me, that I took a stick,
And knock'd him on the head at once;—the thief!
I caught him in the very act.—No doubt
The cooks had promis'd to reward the villain,
If he could make discovery; but I snatch'd
The means out of their hands,—to say no more,
I slew the dunghil knave.—But Megadorus,
My son-in-law, comes hither from the market.
I dare not pass him: I must stop, and speak to him.

SCENE VI.

Enter MEGADORUS at a distance.
Meg.
I have communicated my design,
Touching this match, to many of my friends:
They're lavish in their praises of the girl,
And say, 'tis wisely and discreetly done.—
Indeed, were other men to do the same,
If men of ample means would take for wives
The daughters of the poorer sort unportion'd,
There would be greater concord in the state,
We should have less of envy than we have,
Wives would be more in dread of acting wrong
Than now they stand in, husbands too would live
At less expence than they are at at present.
The greater part would be advantag'd by it;—
Though a few niggard wretches might object,
Whose greedy and insatiate dispositions
No law can check, no magistrate set bounds to.
But 'twill be said,—suppose this rule should hold
In favour of the poor, how shall the rich,
Those maidens that have portions, get them husbands?
Why let them marry whom they will, provided
Their portion do not go along with them.
Were this the case, our girls would be solicitous
About their manners rather than their portions.
I would engage, that mules, which bear at present
A greater price than horses, would be cheaper
Than the poor sorry geldings brought from Gaul.

Eucl.
(overbearing)
Now by the Gods I hear him with delight:
I'm sure he loves œconomy by his talk.

Meg.
No wife would then say twittingly,—“I've brought you
“A larger portion than your own estate:
“It is but just then I should have fine cloaths,
“Maids, mules and muleteers, lacquies, and lads
“To carry how-d'yes, carriages to ride in.”

Eucl.
How well he knows the fashions of our ladies!
Would he were made inspector of their morals!

Meg.
Go where you will, you'll see more carriages
Than in the country at a country villa.—
But this is light, compar'd to other charges.—
The scourer comes for payment, the embroiderer,
The jeweller, the clothier, tissue-weavers,
Dyers in sundry colours, mantua-makers,
Perfumers, haberdashers, linen-drapers,
Shoemakers, milliners, and many more,
Who gain a livelihood from women's geer.
Well,—these are satisfied: a thousand others
Block up your gates like guards before a prison.
You pay them: these are satisfied: yet still
More come, and more; still one damn'd plague or other,
To teize and press you evermore for money.

Eucl.
Now would I fain accost him, but I fear
He would cease talking of our ladies' manners.—
I will not interrupt him.

Meg.
When you've paid
These nicknack-mongers, trumpery-retailers,
Comes the tax-gatherer, and demands his rate:
Away you post, to reckon with your banker:
He, the tax-gatherer, waits the while half-starv'd,
Expecting of his money: when th'account
You've settled with your banker, it appears
Yourself are in his debt, and the collector
Is put off to another day.—All these,
And many other inconveniences,
With unsupportable expences, wait
On ample portions: maidens, that come dowerless,
Are ever in their husbands' pow'r; but dames
With full-swoln portions are their plague and ruin.
But see—my father-in-law before his door.—
(Advancing)
Euclio! how fares it?

Eucl.
I've been greedily
Devouring your discourse.

Meg.
You've overheard me?

Eucl.
From the beginning, ev'ry word.

Meg.
Methinks
You should be somewhat smarter, better dress'd,
Upon your daughter's wedding day.

Eucl.
Why, ev'ry one
Should cut his coat according to his cloth:
Those, that have wherewithal, should bear in mind
To act becoming of their birth and station.
My circumstances rank me with the poor,
Nor are they better than opinion speaks them.

Meg.
Surely they are, and may the Gods still add
To what you have at present.

Eucl.
(Aside)
Have at present!
I don't like that.—He knows what I have got
As well as I myself: th'old jade has told it.

Meg.
Why do you talk apart?

Eucl.
I was considering,
How I should rate you soundly.

Meg.
What's the matter?

Eucl.
D'ye ask me, what's the matter? You've undone me,
Fill'd ev'ry nook and corner of my house
With thieves and pick-locks, let within my doors
Full fifty cooks, all of Geryon's race,
Each with six hands apiece:—if Argus' self,
Who was all eyes, (he to whom Juno gave
Io in custody,) if he, I say,
Was set to watch them, they would 'scape his vigilance.
Then there's a rascal Musick-Girl among them
Would drink the Pyrenæan fountain dry,
If it flow'd all with wine:—then the provisions—

Meg.
I'm sure there is enough to feast a regiment.
I sent a lamb.

Eucl.
A lamb? what sort of lamb?
I never saw an animal more care-full.

Meg.
Careful? what mean you by a careful lamb?

Eucl.
Nothing but skin and bone, so worn with care.
If you hold him to the light, you'll see his entrails:
He's as transparent as a Punic lanthorn.

Meg.
I bought him to be kill'd for our repast.

Eucl.
'Faith he is dead already, and 'twere best
To bury him.

Meg.
Come, come, Euclio, I intend
To take a cup with you.

Eucl.
I shall not drink.

Meg.
I'll bid them bring a cask of good old wine
From my own cellar.

Eucl.
I'll not touch a drop.
I am resolv'd to drink nothing but water.

Meg.
You shall be soak'd with wine, seas over, you
That are resolv'd to drink nothing but water.

Eucl.
(Aside)
I know what he designs: he goes the way
To knock me up with drinking, and transport
That which I hold here to another quarter.
But I'll prevent him: for I'll hide it somewhere
Out of the house: so shall he lose his labour
And wine too in the bargain.

Meg.
Have you any
Further commands with me? I'll go and bathe,
So shall I be prepar'd to sacrifice.

[Exit.

SCENE VII.

EUCLIO
alone.
My dear Pot! thou hast many enemies,
So has the gold committed to thy care.—
The best that I can do now is to carry thee
Strait to the temple of the Goddess Faith,
There hide thee.—Faith, thou know'st me, and I thee.
Beware thee, that thou dost not change thy name,
If I intrust thee with this charge.—I come,
Good Faith, relying on thy confidence.

[Goes into the Temple of Faith.