University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

EUCLIO,
dragging out STROBILUS.
Out, earthworm, out, who but a moment past,
Crept under-ground, wert no where to be seen;
But now thou dost appear, 'tis over with thee.
Rascal, I'll be thy death.

Strob.
What a plague ails you?
What business have you, you old wretch, with me?
Why do you lug me so? what makes you beat me?

Eucl.
D'ye ask? you whipping-stock! you villainous thief!
Not one alone, but all the thieves together!

Strob.
What have I stol'n of your's?

Eucl.
Restore it to me.

Strob.
Restore it? what?

Eucl.
D'ye ask?

Srob.
I've taken nothing.

Eucl.
Come, give me what you've got.

Strob.
What are you at?

Eucl.
What am I at?—You shall not carry it off.

Strob.
What is it you would have?

Eucl.
Come, lay it down.

Strob.
Why we have laid no wager, that I know of.

Eucl.
Come, come, no joking; lay it down, I say.

Strob.
What must I lay down? tell me, name it to me:
I have not touch'd, or taken any thing.

Eucl.
Shew me your hands.

Strob.
Here they are.

Eucl.
Shew them me.

Strob.
Why here they are.

Eucl.
I see.—Shew me your third hand.

Strob.
(Aside)
Sure the old fellow's crazy; he's bewitch'd.
Prithee now don't you use me very ill?

Eucl.
Very ill truly, not to have you hang'd,—
Which I will do, if now you don't confess.

Strob.
Don't confess what?

Eucl.
What did you take from hence?

Strob.
May I be curs'd, if I took any thing
Belonging to you, or desired it, I.

Eucl.
Come, come, pull off your cloak.

Strob.
(pulling it off)
Just as you please.

Eucl.
You may have hid it underneath your cloaths.

Strob.
Search where you will.

Eucl.
(Aside)
The rogue, how civil is he,
That I may not suspect!—I know his tricks.—
Once more, shew me your right hand.

Strob.
Here it is.

Eucl.
Well,—now shew me your left.

Strob.
There they are both.

Eucl.
Come,—I will search no further,—give it me.

Strob.
What must I give you?

Eucl.
Pshaw! don't trifle with me.
You certainly have got it.

Strob.
Got? got what?

Eucl.
So,—you would have me name it;—but I will not.
Restore whatever you have got of mine.

Strob.
You're mad sure.—You have search'd me at your pleasure,
And you have found nothing of your's upon me.

Eucl.
Stay, stay,—who was that other with you yonder?
(Aside)
I'm ruin'd! he's at work within; and if
I let him go, this other will escape.—
I've search'd him, it is true, and he has nothing.
(To Strob.)
Go where you will, and may the Gods confound you!

Strob.
I'm much oblig'd to you for your kind wishes.

Eucl.
I'll in, and if I light on your accomplice,
I'll strangle him.—Out of my sight—be gone.

Strob.
I go.

Eucl.
And never let me see you more.

[Euclio goes into the Temple.