University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Enter PERIPHANES.
PERIPHANES.
'Twere right a man should hold a mirror up
Not only to his face, but to his mind;
And see the very heart of his discretion.
Whence he might judge its power and extent.
Consult that glass, and think what life you led
When young yourself, Periphanes—I, who
Thus fret and teaze my heart out, on my son's
Account, I now experienc'd, feel myself,
My own misdeeds in youth stronger than his.
But truth it is, we old folks sometimes doat;
And such a mirror would be useful to us.
But see my friend Apœcides; and with him
The prize my son has purchas'd.

SCENE II.

Enter APOECIDES, with a musick-girl.
—Welcome back,
My merchant, I am glad to see you safe
Return'd. What say you?

Apoe.
That the Heavens smile
Propitious on you.—

Per.
'Tis a lucky omen.

Apoe.
All things succeed as well as we could wish.
But order some one to conduct the girl
Into the house.

Per.
Hola! who waits there? One of you
Come hither.
Enter a Servant.
—Shew this girl into the house.
And, do you hear—

Serv.
Your pleasure, Sir?

Per.
Take care
You suffer not my daughter and this girl
To meet together, nor to see each other.
Mark me—I'd have her lock'd i'the little room
Alone. The manners of a modest virgin
Are widely distant from a common harlot's.—

[Exit Servant, with the Musick-Girl.
Apoe.
Spoke like a man of sense. No man can be
Too careful of his daughter's honour. Troth,
We nick'd the time in snapping up this girl,
Before your son could purchase her.

Per.
How so?

Apoe.
Because a person told me, that e'en now
He saw your son here—

Per.
Like enough, in troth!
And ready for his bargain.

Apoe.
Plainly so,
'Troth you've a servant fit to be enroll'd;
One worth his weight in gold—Nor is he dear
At gold so weigh'd—How finely he play'd off
The musick-girl, that she suspected not
The purchase made for you! with what a smile
He brought her laughing hither!

Per.
I'm amaz'd
How he could do it!

Apoe.
Under a pretence
That you'd a sacrifice to make at home
For your son's safety, just arriv'd from Thebes.

Per.
An excellent contrivance, that!—

Apoe.
And then,
The reason why he brought her thither, was
To assist you in performing it—He said
You had a sacrifice to make—While I
Look'd silly all the time; and made myself
A very ideot.

Per.
Right—

Apoe.
A friend of mine
Has an affair of consequence, depending
Now at the Forum—And I must away
To stand his advocate.

Per.
Go—and return
Soon as that's o'er—

Apoe.
I'll not be absent long.
[Exit Apoecides.

Per.
A friend in need, is sure a friend indeed.
Whate'er you wish, is done without your trouble.
Now had I trusted this affair to one
Less vers'd in tricks, I had been finely fob'd;
Then had my son shewn his white teeth with justice.
What folly 'tis in me, to blame in him,
The follies of my youth!—When in the army,
I split the ears of all that I could seize on,
With bragging of my feats—But who is this
Comes tossing on; waving his cloak in air?

[seeing the Captain of Rhodes at a distance.

SCENE III.

Enter a Captain of Rhodes.
Capt.
See that you pass no house, but ask at all
[to a servant.]
Where old Periphanes of Platea lives.
And take good care you come not back to me,
Before you've found him out.

Per.
Suppose, my youth,
I should inform you of the man you seek,
What thanks should I deserve?

Capt.
Brave as I've been
In war, my merits there have giv'n me right
To expect that every man should give me thanks.

Per.
Young man, you've not found out a proper place,
To brag of your atchievements. An inferior,
When he attempts to publish his exploits
Before his betters, does but foul his mouth.
But if you seek Periphanes of Platea,
I am the man, if you want ought with me.

Capt.
Are you the man, that in his youth, 'tis said,
Was spoke of before kings; and by his arms,
And soldier-like accomplishments, acquir'd
An ample fortune?

Per.
I, Sir, am the man;
And if you was to hear all my atchievements,
You'd drop your hands, and hie you home with speed—

Capt.
By Pollux! I had rather find the man
To tell my own atchievements to, than one
To tell me his.

Per.
This is no proper place.
Find some one else to tell your nonsense to.

Capt.
List to me then, and you shall know my errand—
I hear you've made a purchase of my mistress.

Per.
[aside.]
O ho! I now begin to know my spark!
The very captain that Epidicus
Had told me of. 'Tis very true, young man, [to him.]

I made the purchase.

Capt.
I'd have a word or two,
If't be not troublesome—

Per.
I can't tell that.
Speak as you will, it shall not trouble me.

Capt.
Then let me have her; I'll pay down the money.

Per.
Take her.—

Capt.
No need with you to mince the matter.
I think this day to give the girl her freedom,
And take her for my bed-fellow.—

Per.
In short,
I purchas'd her at fifty silver minæ;
Count me down sixty, and the girl is yours
Long as your furlow lasts—On this condition
You rid the country of her.

Capt.
Is she mine?

Per.
Upon those terms she is.

Capt.
You sell a bargain.

Per.
[to his servants.]
Who's there?—send out to us the musick-girl,
You carried in but now.— [to him.]
I'll give you too,
Her lute into the bargain—and her trumpery.
Enter Servants with a Musick-Girl.
There, take her, friend.—
[giving her to the captain.]

Capt.
What madness has possess'd you?
What, would you blind my eyes? the girl within—
Order her forth—

Per.
This is the girl I bought.
There is no other here.—

Capt.
No tricks with me!
Produce the musick-girl Acropolistis.

Per.
Why, this is she—

Capt.
I tell you, 'tis not she.
Think you I know not my own mistress? What!—

Per.
I tell you, this is she my son was fond of.

Capt.
'Tis not the same.

Per.
What? not the same?

Capt.
'Tis not.

Per.
Whence came she then? By Hercules! I swear,
This is the girl I gave the money for.

Capt.
You fool'd your money then away, and made
A plaguy blunder.

Per.
Out of doubt, 'tis she.
I sent my servant: one who usually
Attends upon my son; he made the purchase.

Capt.
This servant then has fairly bubbled you.

Per.
How bubbled me?

Capt.
Nothing: 'tis but suspicion.
This wench is put upon you for the musick-girl,
You're plainly, palpably impos'd upon.—

Per.
I'll find her out where'er she is: and so,
My man of war, adieu!—Well done, Epidicus!
[Exit Captain.
A clever fellow!—Bravely done, my man!
You've finely wip'd my nose.— [to the girl.]
Did not Apœcides
Buy thee this very day of the slave merchant!

Mus. Girl.
Ne'er till this day heard I of such a man:
Nor could he purchase me at any rate
Who have been five years free.

Per.
What business here, then?

Mus. Girl.
Here I was hir'd to sing and play the lute,
While an old gentleman perform'd a sacrifice.

Per.
There's not a greater ideot than myself;
No not in Athens.—But you know the musick-girl
Acropolistis?

Mus. Girl.
As I know myself.

Per.
Where lives she?

Mus. Girl.
Since her freedom I'm not sure.

Per.
Freedom!—And who gave her her freedom, pray?

Mus. Girl.
I'll tell you what I've heard; 'twas that Stratippocles,
Periphanes's son, who in his absence
Took care to get her freedom.

Per.
If 'tis true,
I am undone, by Hercules!—Epidicus
'Tis very plain, has squeez'd my purse most finely.

Mus. Girl.
By what I hear, you will no more with me.

Per.
No more, but death with torture, and your absence.

Mus. Girl.
You'll let me take my lute?—

Per.
Nor lute, nor flute—
Hast, if the gods will let you, fly.

Mus. Girl.
I go:
But you'll repent this usage some time hence.—
[Exit Musick Girl.

Per.
What's to be done? Shall I, who've had my name
Before so many edicts, let this rascal
Go off unpunish'd—No—tho' I should lose
As much again, I'd rather, than to bear
To be thus laugh'd at, plunder'd, unreveng'd.
Yes, I'm expos'd.—Yet I'm a fool indeed,
To have a worse opinion of myself
Than this Apœcides, who brags of being
A law-maker so famous—He is still
Boasting his wisdom—But, I'd have him know,
The hammer is no wiser than the handle.

SCENE IV.

Enter PHILIPPA at a distance.
Phi.
If man in all his misery's to be pitied,
'Tis when the malady is in his mind.
This I experience in all shapes of ill.
Fear, poverty alarm my inmost mind,
Nor find I, for the little hope I've left
A place of safety.—I have lost my daughter
To th'enemy—Nor know I where to seek her.

Per.
[aside.]
What woman's this?—A stranger, full of fears
Who thus bewails herself?

Phi.
They said, Periphanes
Liv'd somewhere hereabout—

Per.
[aside.]
She mentions me.
Perhaps she wants some hospitable friend.

Phi.
Would any one shew me the man, or where
He lives, I would reward him for't—

Per.
[aside.]
For certain
I know this woman: I have seen her face,
Tho' where I know not—Is it she or no?
My mind suspects 'tis she—

Phi.
[seeing him.]
O ye good gods!
He is familiar to me.—

Per.
[aside.]
I've no doubt,
'Tis the poor woman, whom in Epidaurus
I well remember to have had—

Phi.
'Tis he,
Who first enjoy'd my love in Epidaurus—

Per.
[aside.]
By whom I had a daughter now at home.—

Phi.
Say, I approach him—

Per.
[aside.]
Shall I then accost her,
Or no?—If 'tis the same—

Phi.
O, should it be
The man, as length of time has made it doubtful—

Per.
[aside.]
'Tis so long since, my mind is at a loss.
But if 'tis she, I'll artfully address her.

Phi.
Come to my aid some of my sex's arts!

Per.
[aside.]
I'll speak to her—

Phi.
I'll have some talk with him.

Per.
[to her.]
Mistress, good day!—

Phi.
Thanks, both for me and mine.

Per.
What more?

Phi.
Good day!—Your compliment's return'd.

Per.
For your just dealing, thanks—Do I not know you?

Phi.
If I am not mistaken, I've to say
That which will call me well to your remembrance.—

Per.
Where have I seen you?

Phi.
That's too hard a question.

Per.
Why so?

Phi.
You'd have me prompt your memory.

Per.
You'd tell fine stories—

Phi.
Your's were wonders all.

Per.
And do you recollect that better?

Phi.
Oh!
I do.

Per.
In Epidaurus—

Phi.
Ah! that word,
That word, a little drop of healing comfort,
Has cool'd the burning heat within my bosom.—

Per.
My taking pity on your mother's poverty,
Relieving her, and you, a helpless girl—

Phi.
Are you the man, who by deceiving me,
Have plung'd me into all this misery?

Per.
The very man—Good day!—You have your health!

Phi.
The better, that I see you well.

Per.
Your hand—

Phi.
Take it—You've here a woman full of misery.—

Per.
Why so concern'd?

Phi.
The daughter I had by you—

Per.
Well, what of her?

Phi.
When I had brought her up,
I lost her. She's a prisoner 'mongst the enemy.

Per.
Be easy then, and set your heart at rest:
Behold, within the house, she's safe and well.
As soon as e'er my slave told me her fate,
I purchas'd her; in that affair the fellow
Acquitted him with diligence, and prudence;
As in all else, he has been a very rascal.

Phi.
O let me see her, if you'd have me live!

Per.
Hola! who waits there? Canthara, go bid
My daughter instantly come out to me,
That she may see her mother.

Phi.
This revives me!

SCENE V.

Enter the MUSICK-GIRL.
Mus. Girl.
Your pleasure, father: why am I call'd forth?

Per.
To see thy mother, child—Go, get thee to her,
And meet her with a kiss—

Mus. Girl.
What mother, Sir?

Per.
She there, that's dying for the sight of you.

Phi.
Who's this, you'd have to kiss me?

Per.
Who?—your daughter.

Phi.
Who?—This?—

Per.
The same.

Phi.
What! kiss this creature, say you?

Per.
And why not kiss her? Is she not your daughter?

Phi.
The man's distracted.

Per.
I, distracted?

Phi.
You.

Per.
Why so?

Phi.
Because I know not who she is;
Have no acquaintance with her, nor so much
As e'er set eyes on her, before this instant.

Per.
I see from whence arises your mistake;
She has chang'd her dress and put on other cloaths.

Phi.
Kittens and pigs smell very different,
I neither know this girl, nor whence she is.

Per.
Gods! how is this? what! do I keep a brothel
To harbour strangers, and maintain them there?
Why did you call me father, and why kiss me?
Why stand there like a block? Why speak'st thou not?

Mus. Girl.
What would you have me say?

Per.
This woman says,
She's not your mother.

Mus. Girl.
If she's not—why, be it so.
In spite of her, I'll be my mother's daughter.
It is not fair to force her to be such
Against her will.—

Per.
Why then did'st call me father?

Mus. Girl.
The fault was yours, not mine—I never call'd
You father once, till you had call'd me daughter.
And should she call me so, I'd call her mother.
As she denies me, she's no more a mother—
No fault of mine—I said, as I was taught.
Epidicus was my instructor—

Per.
How!
Undone! undone!—I'm ruin'd horse and foot.

Mus. Girl.
Am I to blame?

Per.
If e'er you call me father,
By Hercules! your life shall answer for it.

Mus. Girl.
Well, I'll not call you father—when you please,
To be my father—so—when not—why, choose—

Phi.
What! did you buy her, thinking her your daughter?
What tokens had you to believe her such?

Per.
Troth, none at all.

Phi.
What was't then made you think so?

Per.
Epidicus my servant told me so.

Phi.
So, were your servant of another mind,
You knew her not yourself?

Per.
How should I know her,
That saw her but one time—and never after.

Phi.
Wretch, that I am!

Per.
Weep not, I say, but in.—
Have a good heart. I'll find her out, I'll warrant.

Phi.
A citizen of Athens purchas'd her;
A young man too, they say.

Per.
Be you but satisfied,
I'll find her out. Mean time, go in, and watch
This Circe here, this daughter of the sun.
[Exit Philippa into the house.
All other business I'll at once postpone,
And go in search of this Epidicus:
Whom if I find, this day shall be his last.

[Exit.