University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Enter CALIDORUS with a letter in his hand, and PSEUDOLUS.
PSEUDOLUS.
If from your silence, Sir, I could but learn
With what sad cares you pine thus wretchedly,
Gladly I'd save the troubling of two persons,
Myself in asking, you in answering.
But as I cannot learn that way, I'm forc'd
To ask you, and pray answer me this question.
What is the cause, that now for many days
You're so dispirited; and in your hands
Still hold a letter, which you wet with tears:
To none imparting the sad secret?—Now
Speak out; that I may know't as well as you.

Cal.
Ah! Pseudolus! I am a wretched wretch!

Pseu.
Forbid it, Jupiter!

Cal.
This case of mine
Lies not before his court. 'Tis from the sentence
Of Venus that I suffer, not from Jupiter's.

Pseu.
May I not know it, Sir? You us'd e'er now
To make me chief of all your confidants.

Cal.
So would I now—

Pseu.
Then tell me what's the matter,
I shall find means; if not, I shall contribute
My aid, or give good counsel that may serve you.

Cal.
Then take this letter, [gives a letter.]
and there learn what cares
Make me thus wretched, and thus pine—

Pseu.
I'll do
Just as you'd have me—But what's this, I pray?

[looking on the letter.
Cal.
Why, what's the matter?

Pseu.
Sir, in my opinion
The letters fain would propagate their species,
They climb so on the back of one another.

Cal.
For your own sport you play the fool with me.

Pseu.
'Troth, I believe, unless a Sybil reads them,
None else can tell the meaning of the scrawl.

Cal.
Why such sweet letters treat with ridicule,
Wrote on so sweet a table, with a hand
As sweet?

Pseu.
What, in the name of wonder, then,
Have hens got hands?—For nothing but a hen
Could scratch these characters—

Cal.
Impertinent!
Or read the letter, or return it—

Pseu.
Nay,
I'll read it through—But give me your attention.

Cal.
I cannot— My attention's not at home.

Pseu.
Then call it in—

Cal.
No, I'll in silence wait.
'Tis in that letter; call it home from thence;
There my attention's lodg'd, not in my breast.

Pseu.
Methinks I see your mistress, Calidorus!

Cal.
See her!—O, where?

Pseu.
Why in this letter here.
Stretch'd at full length she lies upon the paper.

Cal.
May all the gods and goddesses!—

Pseu.
Preserve me!

Cal.
Not long since, was I like a plant that springs
In solstice season—Sudden I sprang up,
As suddenly decay'd—

Pseu.
Be silent, Sir,
'Till I have read it—

Cal.
Why then don't you read it?

Pseu.
[reading.]
“Phœnicium to her lover Calidorus,
“By means of wax, wood, and expressive letters,
“Sends health—From you she begs health to herself;
“Begs it with weeping eyes, with trembling hand;
“With thoughts distracted, and heart full of fears—”

Cal.
Undone!—For no where find I, Pseudolus,
That health to send her—

Pseu.
What health?—

Cal.
Health in money.

Pseu.
Would you, for health which she sends you on paper,
Return the compliment to her in money?—
Consider what you do—

Cal.
Do but read on;
And from the letter, I'll engage you'll find
What pressing need I have to raise some money.

Pseu.
[reading.]
“The pandar, you must know, my dear, has sold me
“To a Macedonian captain now abroad,
“For twenty minæ—Fifteen he paid down
“E'er his departure—Five remain still due.
“For these, the captain left behind a token,
“His image ta'en in wax from a seal-ring;
“So that whoever brings the like impression,
“The pandar is to send me off with him;
“And the next feast of Bacchus is the day
“Appointed.”

Cal.
That's to-morrow—Near at hand
Thus is my ruin, if you cannot find
Means to prevent it—

Pseu.
Let me read to the end.

Cal.
I'd have you—For the while you read, with her
I seem conversing—Pray read on—You give me
In this the sweet and bitter mix'd together.

Pseu.
[reading.]
“Now all our loves, and lover's ways familiar,
“Our jokes, and play, sweet converse and sweet kisses,
“Our equal close embracings, wanton woundings
“With tender lips, provoking, gentle pressures
“Of rising breasts; these pleasures are all vanishing,
“From you as well as me; and separation,
“Distance, a desart of all bliss is coming,
“Unless from this sad fate you can preserve me,
“Or think that I alone can make you happy.
“Thus have I taken care, that you should know
“All that I know myself: and shall experience
“Now from the event; what real love you bear me,
“Or what make meer pretences to!—Farewell!”

Cal.
'Tis a sad writing—

Pseu.
Sadly writ, indeed!

Cal.
Why dost not weep?—

Pseu.
My eyes are pumice stones,
I cannot make them shed a single tear.

Cal.
Why so?

Pseu.
I'm of a dry-eyed generation.

Cal.
And will you then adventure nought to aid me?

Pseu.
What can I do for you?

Cal.
Ah me!

[sighing.
Pseu.
Ah me!
I can supply you with ah me's! enough:
Nor need you e'er be sparing of the use of them.

Cal.
Unhappy me! I ne'er shall find, my Pseudolus,
The means of borrowing money any where.

Pseu.
Ah me!

Cal.
I've not a single piece at home.

Pseu.
Ah me!

Cal.
The fellow bears her off to-morrow.

Pseu.
Ah me!

Cal.
Is this the way then you assist me?

Pseu.
I give you what I have—I've of this coin
At home, a fund that's inexhaustible.

Cal.
Nay, then 'tis over with me—Can't you lend
One drachma but?—You shall be paid to-morrow.

Pseu.
Scarcely I think, if I should pawn myself for it.
What could a drachma do?

Cal.
'Twould buy a rope.

Pseu.
For what?

Cal.
To hang myself—For I'm determin'd
E'er dark to take a leap into the dark.

Pseu.
Then who shall pay my drachma, if I lend it?
And would you wilfully go hang yourself,
To cheat me, should I lend it, of my drachma?

Cal.
Should she become another's, and I lose her,
I could on no account survive the loss.

Pseu.
Why do you weep, you cuckow?—You shall live.

Cal.
Have I not cause? when I have neither money,
Nor hope to raise a single piece.

Pseu.
I find then
By the tenor of this letter, that unless
You could weep silver drachma's in her lap,
All you can do to endear you by your tears,
Would be but sending water in a sieve.
But I'm your friend, fear not, I'll not desert you.
I've hopes by hook or crook, this very day
To get you a supply of money somewhere.
And yet I can't tell how—'Tis all to come—
But that it will be so, I make no doubt,
The dancing of my eyelids tell me so—

Cal.
O that your words may be made good by deeds!

Pseu.
You know if once I set my wheels a going,
What stir and bustle I am us'd to raise.

Cal.
My every hope is center'd now in you.

Pseu.
Will you be satisfied, if I this day,
Make the girl yours, or get the twenty minæ?

Cal.
Well satisfied, if so it comes about.

Pseu.
The twenty minæ, then demand of me.
That you may know, I'll make good all I say,
Demand them now—I long to engage for them.

Cal.
Will you this day then get me twenty minæ?

Pseu.
I will—So be no farther troublesome.
And that you may not say I did not promise,
I tell you this beforehand, if I fail,
I'll touch your father for the money.

Cal.
Now may the gods preserve you for my service!
Nay, if you can, for aught my duty hinders,
E'en touch my mother too—

Pseu.
For that be easy,
And sleep on either eye—

Cal.
On either eye!
Or either ear, do you mean?

Pseu.
The latter is
Too trite a saying—Now that none may say
That they were not forewarn'd, I here proclaim
To all both young and old, that here are present,
To all my friends, and those to whom I'm known,
That they this day take more especial care
How they give credit to me.

Cal.
Hist! Be silent!

Pseu.
Why, what's the matter now?

Cal.
The pandar's door!
I hear it creak.—

Pseu.
I would it were his legs.

Cal.
'Tis the old rogue himself is coming forth.

[they stand apart.

SCENE II.

Enter BALLIO, the procurer, and several slaves.
Bal.
Come out, bestir, ye lazy, dear-bought scrubs,
Who ne'er once think of doing what is right.
Of whom, unless after this manner treated,
[beating them.
No good is to be got.—I ne'er saw men
Such asses, so unfeeling are their sides,
Beat them, you hurt yourself—Such dispositions
Have these same whipping-stocks, they'll counsel thus
Each other: Whensoe'er occasion serves,
Take, pilfer, pocket, seize upon, drink, gormandize,
Then run away—This is their trade—
You may as well leave wolves among your sheep,
As these to guard your house—To look, upon them,
You'd think them something; they have no bad aspect;
But when you come to action, they deceive you.
Hear now—Unless you will attend this charge;
Shake sleep from off your eyes, and from your breast
Drive laziness, I'll have your sides well scourg'd
With thongs, till they've as many colours on them
As carpets of Campania: and till
No Alexandrian tapestry, wrought with figures
Of beasts, like them, be equally variegated.
Before I told you, gave you yesterday
Your several tasks—But you're such heedless animals,
And so perverse, you force me thus with stripes
To make you do your duties, as you're order'd,
Such are your stubborn dispositions.
Get then the better of this scourge and me.
Look at them—They're intent on other matters.
Attend to this, and mind now what I say;
Turn your ears to me, do, you race of rascals,
Born for the scourge—You'll find this thong of mine
As tough as any of your backs, I warrant you.
[strikes one of them.
How now?—Do you feel it?—This the slave deserves
Who holds his master's orders in contempt.
Stand all of you before me, and attend
To what I say—You that have got a pitcher,
Bring water, and go fill that kettle there
Directly—You with the ax there, I assign
The task to cleave that wood—

Slave.
But, Sir, the ax
Has lost its edge—

Bal.
Well, be it so—I think
The stripes you've had have taken off your edge—
Yet notwithstanding you shall all be useful—
You, see and clean the house: you have your business.
Go, get you in— [Exit 1 slave.]
You lay the couches smooth.
You, clean the plate, and place it all in order.
Be sure, when from the Forum I return,
That I find all things ready: that I find them,
Brush'd, scour'd, smooth'd, each thing clean, and as it should be.
It is my birth-day: and 'tis fit you all
Should celebrate it—Let the gammon, neck,
The loin, the paps, be soak'd a while in water.
D'ye mind me?—I shall make an entertainment
For men of rank, that they may look upon me
As of a man of property—Go in then,
Get all in readiness; that when the cook
Comes to me, there be no delay— [Exeunt slaves.]
I'll strait
To market, and bespeak there all the fish.
Go you before, boy—I must take great care
That no one cuts my purse—Yet stay—I had
Almost forgot, I'd something more to say
At home—Attend to me, ye women slaves.
I've some commands for you—You then, who spend
Your time with men of figure, in the indulgence
Of neatness, dainties and of delicacy;
You misses of distinction; I shall know
By trial made this day, which of you minds
Her person, which her appetite, and which
Thinks on her business, which on nought but sleeping.
Which of you I shall think of setting free,
And which of parting with by sale to others.
See that you bring home presents in abundance
From your gallants this day.—For, mark,
Unless I raise of you a whole year's provision,
To-morrow I shall let you out for hire.
You know it is my birth-day—Where are now
Your men who love you as they do their eyes?
Who call you life, dear, darling, sweeting, honey?
Here make them come in crowds before my doors
With presents—Why procure I for your use
Money, and cloaths, and all—While I at home,
Get nothing but vexation for my pains.
Jades, ever moistening your clay with wine;
While I'm without a drop—I find 'tis best
To call you o'er by name; lest some of you
Should say they were not told their business—List!
List all then—First Hedylium with you—
Your dealings are among the corn-factors—
Who all heap up mountains of wheat at home.
Be it your care, they bring sufficient hither,
To serve me and my family a year:
And that I may abound so much in corn,
The city may henceforward change my name,
And call the pandar Ballio, royal Jason.

Cal.
[apart.]
Do you hear the rogue? What pompous words he utters?

Pseu.
In troth he does, and mischievous ones too.
But let's be silent, and attend to him.

Bal.
You too, who have your friends among the butchers,
Those apes of us procurers, men who get,
Like us, their money by their perjuries,
You, Æschrodora, hear me—If to-day
You fill not my three larders full of meat,
I'll tye you up to-morrow to the larder,
As heretofore the sons of Jove serv'd Dircè,
And tyed her to a bull, as says the story—
Your bull shall be that larder—

Pseu.
[apart.]
I'm on fire
To hear the fellow's talk—Is't not a shame
The Athenian youth should suffer such a man.
Where are they, say, where skulk the youth who at
Maturity, have dealings with this pandar?
Why not agree, why not combine together
To rid the city of this pestilence.
But I'm a fool, and ignorant of the matter.
Dare they deal so with those, to whom their lust
Makes them submissive; and prevents their acting
Against the rogues, as otherwise they would?

Cal.
Psha! Peace!

Pseu.
Why so?

Cal.
It is not quite so civil
To me, to spend your breath on such a rascal.

Pseu.
Sir, I am dumb—

Cal.
'Tis better so you were,
Than keep thus prating of it.

Bal.
Xystilis,
Do you attend to me—Your lovers deal
In oyl, and have large quantities at home.
If you procure me not some skins of oyl;
I'll put you in an empty skin to-morrow,
And hang you up in't 'gainst the portico—
That skin shall be your bed—A bed, I warrant,
Of little sleep, but languishment enough.
You mark the tendency of what I say—
You viper, you who have so many friends,
Laden with oyl, are any of the heads
Of these your fellow-slaves, say, are they better
Anointed for't? Or shall I have my hash
The better oyl'd for it—But well I know
You are too fond of wine to value oyl.
Assure yourself however, I'll pay off
All your old scores, you jade, if you this day
Perform not what I here enjoin you—Now,
For you, Phœnicium, now I speak to you,
The minion of the great, you who are always
So ready to pay down the money for
Your liberty, yet never keep your word:
Unless good store come from your friends to-day,
To-morrow sees your hide under the pent-house,
Dyed with Phœnician colour, my Phœnicium.

[Exeunt slaves.

SCENE III.

CALLIDORUS and PSEUDOLUS come forward.
Cal.
Hear you not what he says, my Pseudolus?

Pseu.
I hear it, Sir, and take good notice of it.

Cal.
What present would you have me send to him,
To hinder him from making my own mistress
Stand here for hire?

Pseu.
Take you no care about it;
But smooth your mind—I'll take sufficient care
Both for myself and you—'Tis now long time
That he and I have equally well wish'd
Each other—An old grudge subsists between us.
I'll send him something upon this his birth-day,
Some heavy mischief—

Cal.
But be speedy with
Whate'er is to be done—

Pseu.
Mind something else,
Can't you?

Cal.
But—

Pseu.
Hush!

Cal.
I'm on the rack—

Pseu.
Take courage.

Cal.
I can't—

Pseu.
Endeavour—

Cal.
How can I controul
My passion?

Pseu.
By attending more to what
Regards your interest, than in your distress,
What suits your inclination—

Cal.
Trifling all!
There's no delight in love unmix'd with folly.

Pseu.
Do you persist?

Cal.
Let me alone, my Pseudolus,
And let me be undone—

Pseu.
I may depart then?

[going.
Cal.
Stay, stay—I'll be as you would have me be.

Pseu.
Now you talk sensibly—

Bal.
Time wears. I loiter.
Go you before, boy— [going.


Cal.
Hola! there—He's gone—
But call him back—

Pseu.
And why in such a hurry—
Gently— [to Callidorus, who is pressing him.]


Cal.
Before he's gone—

Bal.
What hindrance now?
Do you saunter now?— [to the Boy.


Pseu.
You, born to-day! you, born to-day!
'Tis you I call; you born to-day, look on us—
Whatever business you're about, we stay you.
Stop—There are those who fain would speak with you.

Bal.
What is the matter? Who is't stops me thus,
When I have business?

Cal.
One who has been your friend.

Bal.
Your has been friend is dead—The man that is,
He is your living friend—

Pseu.
You are too saucy.

Bal.
You, too impertinent—

Cal.
Lay hold on him:
O'ertake him—

Bal.
On boy—

Pseu.
This way let us meet him.

Bal.
Confound thee, whosoe'er thou art!

Pseu.
And thee!—

Bal.
And both of you, say I!—Turn this way, boy—

Pseu.
Must I not speak to you?

Bal.
When I please, you may.

Pseu.
Suppose 'tis for your interest?

Bal.
You may.
Have I your leave to live, or have I not?

Pseu.
Psha! stop—

Bal.
Nay, let me go—

Cal.
But, Ballio, hear—

Bal.
I'm deaf; you talk but nonsense—

Cal.
When I had
To give, I gave—

Bal.
What's given I ask not for—

Cal.
And when I have it, I will give again.

Bal.
When that's the case, why take away your mistress.

Cal.
Alas! How ill my money's been bestow'd,
How ill my presents!

Bal.
Now your money's gone,
You give me words—Fool that you are, your cause
Is tried already—

Pseu.
Ay, but know at least,
Who 'tis that speaks to you.—

Bal.
Full well I know
Who once he was—Who he is now, is best
Known to himself.—On, boy—

Pseu.
What! not one look,
When 'tis your interest—

Bal.
At that price, I will.
For were I to high Jove to sacrifice;
The entrails in my hand, ready to lay
Upon the altar, shew one glimpse of interest,
With joy I'd quit the unfinish'd ceremony.

Pseu.
This fellow's not to be attack'd with piety,
As others are—As to the gods, whom all
Ought highly to revere, he values not
A rush—

Bal.
I'll speak to him—Good day to you!
Of all Athenian slaves, the very vilest.

[to Pseu.
Pseu.
The gods and goddesses protect you, Ballio!
It is his wish and mine—Or, if unworthy,
May they ne'er be propitious, nor protect you!

Bal.
How fare you, Callidorus?

Pseu.
Why, he fares
As well as love and poverty will let him.

Bal.
If pity would maintain my family,
I'd pity him—

Pseu.
We know you well enough,
No need proclaim yourself—But know you, Ballio,
What we would with you?

Bal.
I can guess—No good—

Pseu.
Attend to this, and what we call'd you back for.

Bal.
Well, I attend—But be as brief as may be,
For I am busy—

Pseu.
My young master here,
Is quite asham'd he has not perform'd his promise:
And paid you at the time he had appointed,
The twenty minæ also for his mistress.

Bal.
What we're asham'd of, with more ease we bear
Than what we're vex'd at.—The young man's asham'd
He has not paid the money—And I'm vex'd
I've not receiv'd it—

Pseu.
He'll procure and pay it:
Wait a few days.—He only fears you'll sell her,
Upon this disappointment.

Bal.
Had he chose it,
He might have paid it to me long ago—

Cal.
What if I had it not?—

Bal.
Why, was you not
In love?—You should have gone and borrow'd it—
Have given interest for it to a banker—
Or robb'd your father of it—

Pseu.
Shameless rascal!
What! robb'd his father?—There's not any fear
You'll put him in an honest way of doing it.

Bal.
That is not pandar like—

Cal.
Is't like I should
Steal from my father: from a man so cautious.
And if I could, duty forbids the crime.

Bal.
I hear you—Take your duty to your arms
This night, instead of your Phœnicium.
But since your duty's to your love prefer'd,
Is every man your father?—Can't you borrow
Of some one else—

Cal.
The term is obsolete.

Bal.
They who insist upon their own, yet pay not
The money that they owe, and leave the table,
When they have had sufficient, then men learn
Caution from others never to lend money.

Cal.
Most wretched am I! I shall ne'er procure
Some money: I'm as much undone by love,
As want of cash—

Bal.
Why then, buy oyl on trust,
And sell for ready money—By this means,
You easily will raise two hundred minæ.

Cal.
The quina-vicinarian law there ruins me—
All fear to trust me—

Bal.
That same law binds me.
I am afraid to trust—

Pseu.
Afraid to trust?—
Repent you then the profit you've made of him?

Bal.
He's no true lover, who desists from giving—
Give to the last—And when he has nothing left,
Then let him cease to love—

Cal.
No spark of pity!

Bal.
You're empty handed—Speeches make no chink.
I wish you, Sir, however, health and life—

Pseu.
What! is he dead then?

Bal.
In some sort he is—
He's with these speeches really dead to me.
When his procurer's pleas'd, a lover lives.
Be your complaint to me, a monied one.
For this same want of cash, which you lament
So deeply, tell your story to your step-mother.

Pseu.
Say, was you ever married to his father?

Bal.
From such a thing as that, defend me, gods!

Pseu.
I prithee, Ballio, do what we request,
And, if you will not trust him, on my faith,
Both sea and land I'll ransack, but I'll pay
The money in three days—

Bal.
Trust you!—

Pseu.
Why not?

Bal.
Because I look upon the trusting you
Like tying up a dog with chitterlings,
That's like to run away—

Cal.
And do you thus
Requite the favours I have done to you?

Bal.
What would you with me now?

Cal.
Only to wait
Six days before you sell the girl, and be
The death of him who loves her—

Bal.
Courage then,
Even six months I'll wait.

Cal.
Well said, a clever fellow!

Bal.
Shall I then make you, happy as you are,
Still happier?

Cal.
How is that?

Bal.
Because I've now
Got no Phœnicium to sell to you.

Cal.
Not have her?

Bal.
Not I, truly.

Cal.
Hither Pseudolus,
The victims bring, the offerings and the priests,
That I may sacrifice to this high Jove,
A greater Jove to me, than Jove himself.

Bal.
I want no victims, give me but the entrails.

Cal.
Why this delay?—Hasten and bring the lambs—
Hear you not Jove here?—

Pseu.
I'll be here this instant.
I will but run without the Metian gate—

Cal.
Why thither?

Pseu.
But to bring two executioners
With carts; fit priests for him—With them, two flocks
Of elm twigs—to appease this Jove of ours—
I'll to gibbet send this pandaring Jupiter.

Bal.
'Tis not for your advantage, I should die.

Pseu.
Your reason?

Bal.
This—If I were dead, you'd find
No greater rogue in Athens than yourself.

Pseu.
Nor is't for your advantage I should die.

Bal.
Your reason—

Pseu.
This—If I were dead, you'd find
No greater rogue in Athens than yourself—

Cal.
But tell me, Ballio, in good earnest tell me,
Have you not my Phœnicium now to sell?

Bal.
By Pollux' temple! no—I have her not—
I sold her some time since—

Cal.
And how?

Bal.
Why stripp'd
Of all appertinences—but her purtenance.

Cal.
What! sold my love!

Bal.
And well: for twenty minæ.

Cal.
For twenty minæ?

Bal.
If you like it better,
For four times five—To a Macedonian captain;
And have fifteen in hand—

Cal.
What do I hear of you?

Bal.
Hear!—That your love is turn'd to ready money.

Cal.
How durst you?—

Cal.
'Twas my pleasure—she was mine.

Cal.
Ho! Pseudolus! go bring a sword—

Pseu.
For what!

Cal.
To kill that rascal first, and then myself.

Pseu.
Rather yourself—As for that rascal there,
Famine will be his executioner.

Cal.
Most perjur'd villain, that the earth e'er swallow'd,
Did you not swear you'd sell her but to me?

Bal.
I own it—

Cal.
Ay, and on your conscience too.

Bal.
Ay, on my conscience.

Cal.
You are perjur'd then,
You villain—

Bal.
I have got the money tho',
And wicked I, may broach it at my pleasure—
While you, a good and pious son, have nothing.

Cal.
Assist me, Pseudolus, on either side,
To load this rascal here with maledictions.

Pseu.
With all my heart—Nor would I to the Prætor
More swiftly run, was he to make me free.

Cal.
Load him with curses in abundance then.

Pseu.
I'll publish him to all the world—Thou lack-shame!

Bal.
Most true.

Pseu.
Thou rascal!—

Bal.
True.

Pseu.
Thou whipping-post!

Bal.
Why not?

Cal.
Thou robber of the dead!

Bal.
For certain.

Cal.
Jail-bird!

Bal.
Well done—

Cal.
Faithless!

Bal.
O, that's my trade.

Pseu.
Parricide!

Bal.
On—

Pseu.
Robber of holy places!

Bal.
I own it—

Cal.
Perjur'd!

Bal.
An old story that.

Cal.
A law-breaker!

Bal.
A strong one—

Pseu.
Pest of youth!

Bal.
O, much so—

Cal.
Thief!

Bal.
Ay, wonderful, indeed!

Pseu.
Thou vagabond!

Bal.
Pshà! Pshà!

Cal.
Thou common cheat!

Bal.
Most plainly so—

Pseu.
Deceitful!—

Cal.
Filthy bawd—

Pseu.
Scum of the earth!

Bal.
Fine singers, both of you!

Cal.
You beat your father and your mother—

Bal.
Nay,
Kill'd them too, rather than give them food—
Is that a crime?

Pseu.
No more: for all we say
Is just like pouring water in a sieve.
Our labour's all in vain.

Bal.
Have you ought else
To charge me with?

Cal.
Are you asham'd of nothing?

Bal.
To have found a lover empty as a nut-shell.
But tho' you have bestow'd hard names upon me;
Curses in plenty too; unless the captain
Bring the five minæ which he owes to me,
(This is the very day he was to pay it)
If he comes not, I think I'll do my duty—

Cal.
And what is that?

Bal.
Why, if you bring the money,
I'll break my faith with him—This is my duty—
So, if 'tis worth my while, we'll have more talk—
But without money, 'tis in vain to prate
Of pity—This I am determin'd—So
You may consult what 'tis you have to do—

Cal.
What, are you going?

Bal.
I am full of business.

Pseu.
E'er long you will be more so—He's my man:
[Exit Ballio.
And now, if gods and men do not desert me,
I'll bone him, in like manner as a cook
Will bone a lamprey—But now, Calidorus,
I'd have you mind me—

Cal.
What are your commands?

Pseu.
I'd raise a battery 'gainst this town, to take it
This day: and for that purpose, I must have
Some artful, knowing, clever, cunning fellow,
One who'd dispatch the business, and ne'er think
Of sleeping o'er it—

Cal.
Tell me your design.

Pseu.
You'll know in time—I love not repetitions
Of the same things.—That way are stories made
Too long.

Cal.
Your plea's indeed most right and just.

Pseu.
Make hast; and quickly hither bring the man.
For out of many men, we find but few,
Who are staunch friends—

Cal.
'Tis what I know full well.

Pseu.
Hast then, and make your choice; and out of many,
Pick one that shall be so.

Cal.
He shall be here
This instant—

Pseu.
Hence—You lose your time in talk.

[Exit Calidorus.

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,
And give them to his son—Here I'll retire,
And try to pick up what they're talking of—

[stands apart.

SCENE V.

Enter SIMO and CALLIPHO.
Call.
If a Dictator now were to be chosen
Out of the spendthrifts and gallants of Athens,
None of them would bid fairer than my son.
'Tis the town-talk, in ev'ry body's mouth,
He had set his mistress free—And for that purpose
He is hunting after money.—This I hear
From others—And indeed, for some time past,
I have thought on it, and suspected it myself.

Pseu.
[apart.]
So then, the affair's cut short—This business
Won't be done here—The way I find's block'd up
Where I propos'd to go a foraging
For money—Yes, he smoak'd me—On that coast
No pilfer for marauders—

Call.
Your reporters,
And listners after faults, by my good will,
Should both be hang'd; the former by the tongue,
The latter by the ears—What you have heard
Of your son's love, and chousing you of money,
May be a pack of lies—But were they true,
As the world goes, what has he done surprising?
'Tis nothing new, that a young man should love,
And make his mistress free.

Pseu.
[apart.]
Well said, old boy!

Sim.
Tho' old the custom, I'd not have him follow it.

Call.
What you'd not have, it is in vain to say.
I warrant, you ne'er did so in your youth:
That father must be good indeed, who'd wish
His son to be still better than himself.
The pranks you've play'd, distributed about,
Would serve the town—And is it then a wonder
Your son should then thus imitate his father—

Pseu.
[apart.]
O Jove! How few men are there thus commode!
Ay, ay! This is indeed to be a father.

Sim.
Who is't that speaks here!—'Tis my servant Pseudolus.
This rascal's the corrupter of my son,
His chief, his leader to the school of lust.
I'd put him to the torture.

Call.
Folly that,
To be so quick in anger!—Sure 'tis better
To address your son with calmness; and enquire
Whether these things you hear abroad are true.
O, a good temper's half in half in evils.

Sim.
I'll do as you would have me.

Pseu.
[apart.]
Pseudolus,
They're making up to thee—Now for a speech
Against the old man comes—I first must greet,
As it is right, my master, wish him happiness.
And, if I've any left, I'll give't my neighbours.

Simo.
[to Pseu.]
Good day to you—What are you upon?

Pseu.
My legs:
Just as you see—

Sim.
Observe his posture, Callipho.
As if he were a person of condition.

Call.
I see he stands upright with good assurance.

Pseu.
So should a servant who is innocent,
Stand up with confidence—And chiefly so
Before his master—

Call.
Pseudolus, we want
Strictly to question you about some matters
We've seen and heard as through a cloud, imperfectly—

Sim.
He has such command of words, you'd think 'tis Socrates,
Not Pseudolus, that holds you in discourse.

Pseu.
'Tis so—You long have held me in contempt
I know; and little confidence have had in me.
You'd make me out a villain; but shall find
I shall appear to you an honest man.

Sim.
See that there be free entrance, Pseudolus,
In at your ears; so that my words may pass
Whither I'd have them—

Pseu.
Come then, speak your mind;
Say what you will, yet am I angry with you.

Sim.
You who're a slave, angry with me your master?

Pseu.
Do you think that strange?

Sim.
I do, by Hercules!
Think strange, that I must guard against that anger
Which you avow—You mean to make me suffer
A different kind of sufferings from those
You've us'd to bear from me—

Call.
Whate'er you think,
He's right, in my opinion, to be angry,
For that you question his integrity—

Sim.
Well, let him be as angry as he will,
I'll be upon my guard, he shall not hurt me—
But tell me, what do you say?—What's this affair
On which I question you?—

Pseu.
If you would know
What's in my power to tell you, why then ask me,
Depending on an answer as authentick
As from the Delphick oracle?—

Sim.
Then mind me,
And take good heed you keep your promise—Well,
What say you?—Know you that my son's in love,
And with a musick-girl?—

Pseu.
[aside.]
I must deny it—

Sim.
Whom he would fain make free?—

Pseu.
This and that too,
I do deny—

Sim.
And that by fraud and cunning,
You're now contriving to get out of me
Some twenty minæ—

Pseu.
I, Sir! out of you!

Sim.
Ay, out of me: which you may give my son
To free his mistress—

Pseu.
This too, Sir, and that
I do confess—

Call.
Come, come, he owns the fact—

Sim.
Have I not said as much to you but now?

Call.
I recollect—

Sim.
Why, when you knew all this,
Was it conceal'd?—Why was I kept i'th'dark?

Pseu.
I'll tell you—'Twas because I did not care
To be the author of so bad a custom,
As for a servant to accuse his master,
And to his master—

Sim.
Would you not advise
To have this fellow drag'd by neck and heels
Strait to the work-house?

Call.
Has he done amiss?

Sim.
Amiss?—Yes much amiss—

Pseu.
Desist, I beg you— [to Call.

I understand my own affairs—The fault
Is mine—Attend then, and I'll tell you why
I kept the secret of your son's amour.
I knew that if I had inform'd you of it,
I had been sent that instant to the work-house.

Sim.
And knew you not the work-house was your doom,
If you did not discover it?

Pseu.
Why yes.

Sim.
Then why not tell it me?—

Pseu.
Because this was
A present evil; t'other, farther off:
This is the spot, and that a little distant.

Sim.
And what's now to be done?—You cannot trick
Me of the money who have smoak'd your plot.
And I'll take care to make the affair so publick,
No one shall trust you for the smallest sum.

Pseu.
I shall apply to none, while you're alive.
You will yourself lay down the money, Sir—
Of you I'll have it.

Sim.
Have of me the money?

Pseu.
Undoubtedly—

Sim.
Yes, you shall have an eye
Out of this head, if e'er I give it you.

Pseu.
You'll give it tho'—I tell you this, that you
May be upon your guard now—

Sim.
This I know
For certain, that if you get ought from me,
It will be great and wonderful, indeed—

Pseu.
I'll do it—

Sim.
If you don't—

Pseu.
Why then, the scourge.
And now, what if I do?—

Sim.
Jove be my witness!
You shall live ever free from punishment.

Pseu.
See you remember.—

Sim.
Shall I not take heed,
When I'm forewarn'd?—

Pseu.
Take heed, I say, take heed.
Still I forewarn you—With those very hands
You will pay me the money—

Call.
By Pollux' temple!
A clever fellow if he keeps his word!—

Pseu.
Make me your slave for ever if I don't.

Sim.
Kindly said that, when you are mine already!

Pseu.
Shall I then tell you both more wonders still?

Call.
Those I'd fain hear—I list with pleasure to you.

Sim.
Come on, I list with pleasure to you too.

Pseu.
Yet e'er I fight this fight, I'll fight another,
Which shall be still more famous and more memorable.

Sim.
What fight?—

Pseu.
A victory o'er this pandar here—
By fraud and artful tricks, this musick-girl
Your son so loves, I'll cheat this fellow of.

Sim.
Say you?—

Pseu.
This evening bring them both to bear.

Sim.
Then do but as you say, and king Agathocles
In valorous deeds is but a fool to you.
But, should you fail, can you shew any cause
I should not strait confine you to the work-house?

Pseu.
Not only for a day, but, troth, for ever.
But tell me, if I should effect my purpose,
With good will, will you then advance the money,
To pay to the procurer out of hand?

Call.
He asks but right—Say, Yes, I'll give it him—

Sim.
But know you, Sir, what's come into my mind.
Suppose they lay their heads together, Callipho,
And in compact, by some invented trick,
They should contrive to chouse me of my money.

Pseu.
'Twere impudence beyond compare, for me
To attempt so foul a deed—And, if in compact,
Any contrivance, Simo, we have form'd,
Or ever join'd in this affair together;
Write on my back with elm-twigs for your styles,
As thick as you would letters in a book.

Sim.
Proclaim the games as soon as e'er you please.

Pseu.
I beg you, Callipho, give me this day,
And don't engage yourself in other business.

Call.
I had determin'd yesterday, to go
This day into the country.

Pseu.
Change your scheme.

Call.
On this occasion then, I'll stay, that's certain,
I have a mind to see these games of yours.
And if I see my friend refuse his promise,
Rather than so, I will pay down the money—

Sim.
I shall not change my purpose.

Pseu.
If you do,
Both ears shall hear of it, by Pollux' temple!
Come on, remove you in doors for a while,
And leave me room in turn to play my tricks in.

Sim.
Then be it so—You e'en shall have your way.

Pseu.
But I must have you keep at home—

Sim.
This too
I'll do to humour you—

Call.
Well, I must hence
To th'Forum—I'll be back again immediately—

Sim.
Make hast then, and return—

[Exeunt Call. and Simo severally.
Pseu.
[to the spectators.]
I much suspect
That you suspect I mean but to amuse you,
With all my feats, while this my play is acting;
And never do what I have said I would.
I shall not change my purpose—'Tis full sure
It will be so; but by what means I know not—
Only, that so it will be—Who appears
First on the scene, in some new character,
Should shew some new invention—If he cannot,
Let him resign his place to one who can.
Permit me therefore to withdraw a while,
To bring my tricks together—In the mean time,
Our player on the flute shall entertain you.

[Exit.