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319
SCENE IV.
PSEUDOLUS alone.Pseu.
Since he is gone, here, Pseudolus, thou stand'st
Alone—What's now to do, now that thou's been
So liberal to thy old master's son
In promises?—Where are they?—Thou hast not
A single drop of any certain project;
Much more, thou art not sure of any money.
And what to do I know not: how begin
To weave this web; nor, when begun, to end it.
But as a poet sits him down to write,
And seeks that which is no where, and yet finds it,
Making the probable from fiction spring,
So, I will be that poet—Twenty minæ
Which now are not, I'll find—A long time since
I promis'd my young master to procure them.
I then had thoughts of throwing out my hook
To catch the old one—But I know not how,
He smelt a rat—But hush! I must be silent:
I see my master Simo walking there
With Callipho his neighbour—I'll 'ere night
Dig twenty minæ out of this old sepulchre,
320
And try to pick up what they're talking of—
[stands apart.
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