University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Enter PANÉGYRIS and PINACIUM.
PANÉGYRIS.
Penelope , I think, was from her soul
Unhappy, sister, to have liv'd so long
Barr'd from her husband's love, a widow'd life.
Her sense of this, we judge of from our own,
Whose husbands are away; for whose affairs,
We, as we ought, are anxious day and night.

Pin.
'Tis fit we do our duty; and in that
We do no other than affection dictates.
But this way, sister—I have much to say,
Relating to my husband—

Pan.
Things go well,
I hope, my dear?—

Pin.
I hope so too, and wish it.
But I am vex'd, my sister, that your father,
My father too, as just a man esteem'd
As any in the city, should now act
So false a part; injure our absent husbands
So much; and that without a fault of theirs;
Draw our affections from them too—These things
Weary my life, are worse than age and troubles.

Pan.
Weep not, my sister; nor, in thought do that
Your father threatens—We'll hope better from him.
I know him; know, he only says these things
In jest; nor would he for the wealth of Persia,
Dug from their mountains, said to be of gold,
Confirm your fears by facts—Nay, should he do so,
It would but ill become us to be angry:
Much may be said, nor, without reason said;
For 'tis the third year of our husband's absence.

Pin.
'Tis as you say.—

Pan.
And yet, whether alive,
In health, or where, or what about, (if ought
They are about) they make not us partakers,
Nor yet return—

Pin.
Grieve you, that they neglect
Their duty, sister, when you do your own?

Pan.
I do.—

Pin.
Be dumb! nor let me hear from you
That sentiment again—

Pan.
And wherefore, say?

Pin.
'Tis my opinion, sister, that the wise
Study their duty, and then practise it—
So, tho' my elder, I presume to advise
That you forget not yours—Say, they're unjust,
Nor treat us as they ought, let us remember
The duty we owe them, nor more expose
Our weakness to their strength.—

Pan.
'Tis right: I've done.

Pin.
Take heed then to remember it.

Pan.
I would not
Be deem'd unmindful of my husband, sister,
Nor shall he lose the favours he bestow'd.—
By Pollux! no—His kindness is my joy,
And well am I contented with my lot;
Nor do I seek e'en now to change my state.
But after all, 'tis in our father's power:
And well we know, parents must be obey'd.

Pin.
I know it, and that knowledge aids my sorrows;
For he already has declar'd his sentiments.

Pan.
Then think we what remains for us to do.

SCENE II.

Enter ANTIPHO, [speaking to his servants within.]
Ant.
That servant, let me tell you, is no good one,
Who waits till he has orders from his master;
Nor of his own accord will do his business.
Each month as it returns, you can remember
To ask for your allotment of provisions;
And why not think of what is to be done
About the house?—If then, at my return,
I find not each part of the furniture
Put in its proper place, I shall rub up
Your memories with the advertisement
Of a bull's pizzle—One would almost think,
Not men, but swine liv'd with me in the house.
See it be clean at my return; for I
Shall soon be back; I go but just to see
My eldest daughter; and, if I am wanted,
Call me from thence; or wait for my return,
Which will be very soon.

Pin.
Say, if our father
Should set himself against our resolution,
What, sister, would you do?

Pan.
What do? submit.
His power's the strongest.

Ant.
[apart.]
Say, they choose their state,
To remain here, rather than elsewhere marry?
Why not? Is it for me, in my decline
To war with them, who ne'er deserv'd it of me?
No, no—I hate contention—I'm convinc'd
What's fit—But how begin?—Ay, there's the doubt.
Shall I wind round about obscurely with them,
As I'd no reason to find fault—Nor had I
Been well inform'd of their deserving blame.
But shall I try them gently, or by threats?
Oh! I shall hear enough—I know them well.

Pin.
[apart to Pan.]
Methinks, we shall do better by intreaty
Than opposition. I do not despair
To gain my father's favour, should I ask it.
We can't oppose, but with disgrace and crime.
Nor shall I—Nor should you, might I advise.
No, let us use intreaty—I do know
Our father well; he's not inexorable.

Ant.
[apart.]
Yes—I will feign them guilty of some fault,
Perplex their minds, and put them in some fright.
That done, I shall know how to act; and, as
I find, discover plainly my intentions.—
I know we shall have words enough—I'll in—
But see, the door is open—

Pin.
Sure I hear
My father's voice?

Pan.
By Castor's temple, he!
Let us accost and kiss him.

Pin.
Sir, good day!

[They both run to kiss him.]
Ant.
The same to you—What! both at once upon me!
Have done—Away—

Pin.
One kiss—

Ant.
Enough of kissing.

Pin.
Why so, my father?

Ant.
I'm overseason'd with it.

Pin.
Sit here, my father!

Ant.
No, I'll not sit there.
Sit there yourselves—I'll sit upon this bench.

Pin.
Stay till I fetch a cushion.

Ant.
For your care
I thank you—As it is, 'twill do for me.

Pin.
Give me leave, Sir.

Ant.
No need—

Pin.
Indeed there is.

[bringing a cushion.]
Ant.
Well, I submit—So—so—'Tis very well.

Pin.
Children can never take too tender care
Of a lov'd parent—Whom should we esteem
More dear than you? And, next to you, our husbands,
Of your own choice—

Ant.
You do as good wives should,
And hold your absent husbands as if present.

Pin.
Decency, Sir, commands us honour those
Who've chosen us companions throughout life.

Ant.
Is there no stranger here, to catch our words?

Pin.
None; but ourselves and you.

Ant.
Attend me then.
Unskill'd in women's manners and affairs,
I come to you a scholar—What endowments
Should matrons have, the best esteem'd? Say both.—

Pan.
And why of us ask you of women's manners?

Ant.
Troth, as your mother's dead, I'm seeking out
Another wife—

Pan.
You easily may find
A worse wife, Sir, and one too of worse morals.
A better, sure you'll never find, nor could
The sun e'er shine on.

Ant.
'Tis on that account
I ask both your opinion, and your sister's.

Pin.
I know, by Pollux' temple, what they should be,
Were they but such, as I think right, they ought.

Ant.
Say then your thought, what women ought to be.

Pan.
They ought in public to shut up their mouths,
That none speak ill of them deservedly.

Ant.
Speak your opinion now in turn, Pinacium.

Pin.
And what, Sir, would you have me speak about?

Ant.
When is it best discern'd a woman has
Good dispositions?—

Pin.
When mischief's in her power,
And she restrains that power, and does it not.

Ant.
Not amiss that.—Come on.—What says the other?
Of two conditions, which is best, to marry
A maiden, or a widow?

Pan.
Sir, as far
As my poor skill will go, of many evils,
That evil which is least, is the least evil.
He that can live without a woman, let him;
And let him every day take special heed
Never to do that thing to-day, the which
He shall be sorry to have done, to-morrow.

Ant.
What sort of woman do you think the wisest?

Pan.
That woman, Sir, who in prosperity
Can know herself; and, when affairs are not
As once they have been, with an equal mind
Can bear the disappointment.

Ant.
What I've done
Was all by way of merriment, to try
Your dispositions. This is the true business
For which I came, and wish'd to meet you here.
Some friends advise that I should take you hence
To my own house immediately.

Pan.
But we,
Whose interests are at stake, advise quite otherwise.
Had you not lik'd the match, there was no reason
Why you should choose these husbands for us formerly;
And, as they're absent from us, 'twere unjust
To bear us off to your own house again.

Ant.
What, shall I suffer you, while I'm alive
To live with beggars for your husbands!

Pin.
Sir,
My beggar is agreeable to me;
Her king is to his queen agreeable,
And she, the same in poverty or riches.

Ant.
Set you such value then on thieves and beggars?

Pan.
'Twas to the man you married me, I thought,
Not to his money.

Ant.
What! and are you still
In expectation then of their return,
After a three years absence?—Why not rather
Fly from the worst, and take the fairest offer?

Pan.
'Tis folly, Sir, to lead folks to the chace
Against their will—That wife's an enemy,
Who's wedded to her husband 'gainst her liking.

Ant.
Are you determin'd then, that neither of you
Obey your father's will?

Pin.
We both determine
On strict obedience; never to forsake
The husbands you have given us.

Ant.
Then, farewell.
I'll hence, and tell my friends your resolutions.

Pan.
Your friends, if honest, will not fail to think
Our resolutions just.

Ant.
As you know how,
Take the best care of their affairs at home.

[Exit.
Pan.
Now pleas'd we listen to such good advice.
Come, sister, let's go in.

Pin.
I'm first for home.
If chance a message from your husband come,
You'll let me know it.

Pan.
I'll hide nothing from you.
Do you the same by me—Holla! Crocotium,
Go fetch Gelasimus the Parasite—
Bring him along—I'd send him to the port.
May hap some ship may have arriv'd from Asia
To-day or yesterday.—I've still a slave
Whole days in waiting—This I send 'tween whiles—
Make haste, and back return immediately.

[Exeunt severally.