University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Enter FISHERMEN, with their Lines, Nets, &c.
A Fisherman.
We poor folks lead a sorry life, especially
If we have learn'd no trade, no occupation,
So of necessity must be content
With what we have.—Guess ye, how rich we are
By this our tackle. These poor hooks and rods
Are all we have to live by. From the city
We come here to the sea in quest of forage;
Our sport and exercise is catching lobsters,
Crabs, oysters, cockles, ev'ry kind of fish;
Some with our hooks, some get we from the rocks.
We draw all our provisions from the sea:
If we catch nothing, then well sous'd and pickled
We e'en sneak home, and sleep with empty bellies.—
The sea is now so rough, we have no hope
Of sport here; and except we get some shell-fish,
We must go supperless.—We will beseech
Good Venus here to favour and befriend us.

[They advance towards the Temple.

SCENE II.

Enter TRACHALIO, at a little distance.
I've us'd my best endeavours not to slip
My master any where. When he went out,
He said that he was going to the port,
And bade me meet him here at Venus' temple.—
But see, some people stand there opportunely,
Of whom I may enquire. I'll up to them.
Save you, ye sea-thieves, ye starv'd generation!
How fares it with you?

Fisherman.
As with fishermen;
Dying with hunger, thirst, and expectation.

Trach.
Have you seen come this way, since you've been here,
E'er a fresh-colour'd, stout, well-looking youth,
And three companions with him, drest like soldiers?

Fish.
We have seen no one answering your description.

Trach.
Or have you met an old bald-pated fellow,
Hook-nos'd, pot-bellied, beetle-brow'd, squint-ey'd,
A sour-fac'd knave, the scorn of Gods and men,
Full of iniquity and vile dishonour,
With two young likely damsels?

Fish.
Such an one
In mind and deed is fitter for the gallows
Than Venus' temple.

Trach.
Tell me, have you seen him?

Fish.
No,—no one has come hither.—Fare you well.

Trach.
Farewell.

[Exeunt Fishermen.

SCENE III.

TRACHALIO
alone.
I thought so: 'tis as I suspected:—
My master is deceiv'd; this curst procurer
Is run away, has got on board a ship,
And carried off the damsels.—I'm a conjurer.—
My master was invited by the knave
To dinner here: I had best stay his coming:
And if I see the priestess, I'll enquire,
If she can give me further information:
She may perhaps know more.

SCENE IV.

Enter AMPELISCA from the Temple.
(To the Priestess within.)
I understand:
Your orders are, to knock here at this house
Next to the temple, and to ask for water.

Trach.
Whose voice is that?

Amp.
Bless me! who's that, that speaks there?
Whom do I see?

Trach.
Is not that Ampelisca
Comes from the temple?

Amp.
Is not that Trachalio
I see there, Pleusidippus' rogue?

Trach.
'Tis she.

Amp.
'Tis he.—Trachalio! save you.

Trach.
Ampelisca!
Save you.—How fares it?

Amp.
Very ill.

Trach.
Don't say so.

Amp.
'Tis right to speak the truth.—But prithee now
Where is your master Pleusidippus?

Trach.
Pshaw!
As though he weren't within there.

Amp.
He is not,
Nor any other man.

Trach.
He is not come!

Amp.
You say the truth.

Trach.
That's not my custom. But
How near is dinner ready?

Amp.
Pray, what dinner?

Trach.
You're sacrificing here.

Amp.
What are you dreaming?

Trach.
Why sure your master Labrax did invite
My master Pleusidippus here to dinner.

Amp.
No wonder what you say.—If he deceives
Both Gods and men, he acts but like a pimp.

Trach.
Are you not sacrificing? nor my master?

Amp.
You've guess'd it.

Trach.
Prithee then what do you here?

Amp.
From dire afflictions, from severest frights,
From hazard of our lives, in want of succour,
The Priestess took us in, me and Palæstra.

Trach.
Ha! is Palæstra here, my master's love?

Amp.
Yes verily.

Trach.
There's pleasure in your news,
My Ampelisca.—But I long to know
The perils you were in.

Amp.
Our ship, Trachalio,
Last night was cast away.

Trach.
Ship? cast away?
What story's this?

Amp.
Have you not heard forsooth,
How that our master privately design'd
To carry us away to Sicily,
And put on ship-board all that he was worth?
Now all is lost.

Trach.
Thanks, gentle Neptune: verily
Thou art a cunning gamester; thou hast giv'n him
A pleasant cast i'faith: the rogue is done for.—
But where's the villain now?

Amp.
Dead drunk, I fancy;
For Neptune had invited him last night
To deep potations, and, as I suppose,
Gave him a finishing cup.

Trach.
O how I love thee,
My Ampelisca! What a dear sweet creature!
There's honey in thy words too!—But inform me,
How scap'd you and Palæstra?

Amp.
You shall hear.
Seeing the ship borne full upon a rock,
We, sore affrighted, leapt into the boat:
I hasten'd to untie the rope that held her;
And while the rest were wrapt in wild dismay,
Our boat was sever'd from them by the storm,
Which drove us to the right; and in this wise,
Poor helpless souls, tost by the winds and waves,
We pass'd the live-long night, till on the morn
The wind scarce bore us to the shore quite spent.—

Trach.
I understand;—'tis ever Neptune's way:—
He's a most dainty Ædile, and whenever
He finds commodities stark naught, the word
At once is “over with them.”

Amp.
A plague on you!

Trach.
On you, my Ampelisca.—But I knew
The scurvy pimp would do what he has done;—
And I have often said it:—I had best
Let my hair grow, and set up for a conjurer.

Amp.
A pretty care you took, with all your foresight,
You and your master, to prevent his going!

Trach.
What could he do?

Amp.
A lover he, and ask you,
What could he do? Day, night he should have kept
A constant watch, been always upon guard.
Yes truly,—'tis so like them,—his concern
And care about her tallied with his love.

Trach.
Do you not know, when a man goes to bathe,
Let him be e'er so mindful of his cloaths,
They yet are stolen: for he can't devise
Whom he should have an eye to; but the thief
Holds easily his mark of observation
Point blank before him: all the while our spark
Kens not the lurking knave.—But bring me to her.
Where is she, pray?

Amp.
Go straight into the temple:
You'll find her sitting there, all drown'd in tears.

Trach.
I'm sorry for't!—but wherefore doth she weep?

Amp.
I'll tell you. She is vexed to the soul,
That the procurer should have ta'en her casket,
Where she had lodg'd some trinkets, which she hop'd
Might lead to a discovery of her parents;
And now she fears 'tis lost.

Trach.
Where was the casket?

Amp.
He lock'd it in his wallet, to prevent
Discovery of her parents.

Trach.
What a shame
To make a slave of one that should be free!

Amp.
She thinks it with the ship gone to the bottom.
All the old fellow's treasure too was with it:
Some one, I hope, has div'd, and brought it up:
She is sore grieved for the loss of it.

Trach.
'Tis fit that I should go and comfort her.
But let her not despond; for true it is,
Good oft befalls us, when we least expect it.

Amp.
And true it is, that when we trust in hope,
We're often disappointed.

Trach.
Patience then
Is the best remedy against affliction.—
I'll in, except you want me further.

Amp.
Go.

[Exit Trachalio.

SCENE V.

AMPELISCA
alone.
I'll now do what the Priestess order'd me;
I'll beg some water here at the next house.
She told me if I ask'd it in her name,
They'd give it me forthwith. I never saw
A worthier old woman, more deserving
Favour from Gods and men. How courteously,
And with what gentle breeding she receiv'd us
Trembling, in want, wet, cast away, half-dead,—
And treated us as though we were her children!
How readily herself did warm us water
For us to wash!—But I must mind her orders,
That I mayn't make her wait.
[Knocking at Dæmones' door.
Ho! who's within here?
Open the door.—Will nobody come forth?

SCENE VI.

Enter SCEPARNIO.
Who's at the door there banging so unmercifully?

Amp.
'Tis I.

Scep.
What good d'ye bring us?—By my troth
A likely wench!

Amp.
Good day to you, young man.

Scep.
The same to you, young woman.

Amp.
I am come to you,—

Scep.
I'll entertain you, if you come anon,
As you could wish: at present I have nothing
To satisfy your wants.—Ah ha, my pretty one!
My smirking, smiling rogue!

(Offering to embrace her.
Amp.
Let me alone:—
Fye,—now you are too rude.

Scep.
By heav'ns, the very
Image of Venus! What a sparkling eye
The jade has!—what a shape!—what a complexion!—
A walnut,—a nut brown I meant to say!—
What breasts!—what pretty pouting lips!—

(Lays hold of her.
Amp.
(Struggling,)
Be quiet!—
I am not for your turn:—d'ye think me common?
What!—can't you keep your hands off?—

Scep.
Prithee, sweet,
May I not toy a little?

Amp.
Bye and bye,—
When I'm at leisure, I'll then trifle with you:—
Now let me have your answer, aye or no,
To that which I was sent to ask.

Scep.
What would you?

Amp.
Can you not guess by this?

(Pointing to the pitcher.)
Scep.
And can't you guess
What I would have of you?

Amp.
The Priestess sent me
To beg some water.

Scep.
I am proud and lordly:
Unless you sue to me with low petition,
You will not get a drop.—Our well we dug,
At our own hazard, with our proper tools.—
Unless you wooe me with much blandishment,
You will not get a drop.

Amp.
Why should you grudge
To give me water, which an enemy
Will give an enemy?

Scep.
Why should you grudge
To grant me that same favour, which a friend
Will give a friend?

Amp.
Well, well, my sweet, I'll do
All you desire.

Scep.
(Aside.)
O charming!—I am blest!—
She calls me sweet.—
(To Amp.)
You shall have water;—No,
You shall not love in vain.—Give me the pitcher.

Amp.
Here,—take it.—Prithee, love, make haste, and bring it me.

Scep.
Stay:—I'll be here this instant, my sweet charmer!

[Exit Sceparnio.

SCENE VII.

AMPELISCA
alone.
What shall I tell the Priestess in excuse
For tarrying here so long?—Oh, how I dread
Ev'n now to look upon the deep!—
(Looking towards the Sea.)
Ah me!
What do I see there on the shore?—my master
And his Sicilian guest, whom I believ'd
Both drown'd!—More evil still survives to plague us
Than we imagin'd.—Why do I not run
Into the temple to inform Palæstra,
That we may fly to th'altar ere he come,
And seize us?—I'll be gone:—th'occasion presses,
And suddenly inspires the thought.

[Runs into the temple.

SCENE VIII.

Enter SCEPARNIO.
Good heav'ns!
I ne'er believ'd such pleasure was in water;
I drew it with such heartiness!—The well
Methought too was less deep than heretofore;
With so much ease I drew it!—Verily
I am an oaf, that I should fall in love now
For the first time.—Here, take your water, precious!
I would that you might carry it with that pleasure
Which I myself do; so shall I adore you.
Where are you, dainty dear?—Here, take your water.—
Where are you?—Verily, I think she loves me:
The wanton plays at bo-peep.—Ho! where are you?—
A pleasant joke i'faith:—but come, be serious.
Why won't you take it?—Where in the world are you?—
I see her nowhere:—she's upon her fun.—
I'll leave it on the ground.—But softly—What
If some one take the pitcher?—It belongs
To Venus; and 'twould bring me into trouble.
'Gad I'm afraid, the jilt has some design
To trap me by its being found upon me:
The magistrate would have a fair pretence
To clap me into chains, if any one
Should chance to see me with it: for 'tis letter'd,—
Tells of itself whose property it is.
I'll call the Priestess out, that she may take it.
I'll to the door then of the temple. (Calling.)
Ho there,
Ptolemocratia!—Come, and take your pitcher.—
I'll carry it in.—Troth I've enough to do,
If I'm to fetch them water, all that ask for't.

[Goes into the temple.

SCENE IX.

Enter LABRAX, followed by CHARMIDES, from among the Cliffs at the further End of the Stage.
LABRAX.
He that would be a beggar and a wretch,
Let him trust Neptune with his life and fortune:
Whoe'er has any dealings with that God,
He'll send him home again in this sweet trim.—
Ah, Liberty, 'twas wisely done of you,
That thou would'st ne'er set foot on board a ship
With Hercules.—But where's this friend of mine,
Who has undone me? (Looking back.)
Oh, see where he crawls.

Charm.
What a plague, Labrax, whither in such hurry?
I can't keep up with you, you walk so fast.

Labr.
Would thou hadst died in Sicily on a gallows,
E'er I set eyes on thee, on whose account,
Ah me! this vile disaster has befall'n us.

Charm.
Would thou hadst lain in prison, on the day
Thou first admitted me within thy doors!
And I beseech the Gods, that all thy life
Thou mayst for ever have such guests as I.

Labr.
When I let Thee in, I let in Misfortune.—
Why did I hearken to thee, thou vile rogue?
Why did I thence depart? why go on shipboard?
Where I have lost e'en more than I was worth.

Charm.
I marvel not our ship was cast away,
When it had such a rogue as thee on board,
And thy ill-gotten pelf.

Labr.
Thou hast undone me
With thy cajoling speeches.

Charm.
Thou hast giv'n me
A more atrocious supper, than which erst
Was set before or Tereus or Thyestes.

Labr.
I die! I'm sick at heart! pray, hold my head.

Charm.
Would thou couldst bring thy lungs up, for my part.

Labr.
Alas! poor Ampelisca, and Palæstra,
Where are you?

Charm.
Food for fishes, I suppose;
Gone to the bottom.

Labr.
Thou hast brought upon me
Beggary and want, because I gave an ear
To thy romancings.

Charm.
Nay, thou ow'st me thanks:
Before, thou wast a dull insipid fellow;
I've giv'n thee salt and seasoning to thy wit.

Labr.
Go, get thee hence, and hang thyself.

Charm.
Go thou.—
I did as bad, when I embark'd with thee.

Labr.
Can there exist a wretch like me?

Charm.
Yes, I,
I am more wretched.

Labr.
How?

Charm.
Because I don't
Deserve it, but thou dost.

Labr.
Ye bulrushes!
I envy your condition, who preserve
For evermore your dryness.

Charm.
By my troth
My words come from me broken, and as 'twere
By fits, like lightning, flash succeeding flash,
I tremble so.

Labr.
Neptune, thy bath's a cold one:
Since I've come out on't in my cloaths, I freeze.
He deals in nothing warm to chear our hearts,
But gives up only salt and cold potations.

Charm.
How happy are the blacksmiths, who are ever
Employ'd about a fire, are always warm!

Labr.
O for the nature of a duck, that now
I might be dry, tho'come from out the water.

Charm.
What if I hire me for a bug-bear?

Labr.
Why?

Charm.
Because I chatter with my teeth so terribly.
Yes, yes, I own I have deserv'd this ducking.

Labr.
Why so?

Charm.
Because I dar'd embark with Thee,
Whose crimes have stir'd up ocean from its bottom.

Labr.
Fool! to have listen'd to thy vain pretences,
That in thy country I from girls should draw
Huge profit, and amass a world of riches!

Charm.
Why, thou unclean, unhallow'd beast, didst think
To gobble up all Sicily at a mouthful?

Labr.
I wonder what sea-beast has gobbled up
My wallet, with the treasure pack'd within it.

Charm.
The same, I fancy, that has got my pouch,
With all its silver, which was in the wallet.

Labr.
Alas! I am reduc'd to this one waistcoat,
And this poor shabby cloak.—Undone for ever!

Charm.
We may set up in partnership together;
Our means are equal.

Labr.
Were the damsels sav'd,
Some hope were left me.—Now, if Pleusidippus,
Who gave me earnest for Palæstra, see me,
'Twill cause me much vexation.

(He cries.
Charm.
Prithee, oaf,
Why dost thou blubber thus?—Thou'lt never want,
While thou canst wag a tongue; thy perjury
Will quit all payments.

SCENE X.

Enter SCEPARNIO, from the Temple.
What can be the matter,
That these two damsels here in Venus' Temple
Should so bewail them, and embrace her image?
They have I know not what strange fears:—they talk
Of having been last night tost on the sea,
And cast on shore this morning.

Labr.
(overhearing)
Prithee, youth,
Where are the damsels, whom you mention?

Scep.
Here
In Venus' Temple.

Labr.
And how many are they?

Scep.
As many as you and I make, put together.

Labr.
Undoubtedly they're mine.

Scep.
Undoubtedly
I know not that.

Labr.
Of what appearance are they?

Scep.
Good likely wenches.—Were I in my cups,
I could make shift to toy with either of them.

Labr.
And young forsooth?

Scep.
Forsooth you're plaguy troublesome.
Go, if you will, and see.

Labr.
Dear Charmides,
Sure they must be my wenches.

Charm.
Jove confound thee,
Whether they are or not.

Labr.
I'll go directly
Into the Temple.

Charm.
Go into a dungeon,
I care not.

[Exit Labrax.

SCENE XI.

CHARMIDES and SCEPARNIO.
Charm.
Prithee now shew me some place,
Where I may sleep, good friend.

Scep.
Sleep where you will;
There's no one hinders; the highway is common.

Charm.
D'ye see? my cloaths here are wet thro'; then take me
Into thy house, lend me some fresh apparel,
While mine is drying; thou shalt have my thanks.

Scep.
Here, you may take this coarse frock, if you will,
It's all that I have dry: it serves to shelter me
In rainy weather. Come, give me your cloaths;
I'll get them dry'd.

Charm.
So! is it not enough
The sea has made a broken merchant of me,
But thou wouldst take me in too on the land?

Scep.
Broken or whole, I value not a straw:
I shall not trust a rag without a pawn.
Whether you sweat or freeze, are sick or well,
I will not let a stranger in the house:
No, no, I've had enough of rogues already.

[Exit Sceparnio.

SCENE XII.

CHARMIDES
alone.
What! is he gone?—Why sure this fellow deals,
Whoe'er he is, in girl's flesh, he's so merciless.
Wet as I am, why stand I here? 'twere best
To go into the Temple, and sleep off
Last night's debauch, which went against my stomach.
Old Neptune drench'd us with his damn'd sea-water
As though 't had been Greek wine, and so he hop'd
To burst our bellies with his briny draughts.
Troth, had he ply'd us but a little longer,
We had been fast asleep, and now indeed
He has sent us home half dead.—Well, I'll go in,
And see what's doing by my pot-companion.

[Goes into the Temple.