University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Enter SILENIUM, GYMNASIUM, and BAWD.
SILENIUM.
As I have hitherto, my dear Gymnasium,
Lov'd you, and rank'd your mother and yourself
Among my friends, so you've both made your friendship,
This day apparent.—Had you been my sister,
I know not how I could have been more honour'd.
Indeed, in my poor thoughts it could not be.
All other business have you laid aside
So often, to devote yourselves to me.
I own, on this account, my obligations
Due to you both, and give you both, my thanks.

Gym.
By Pollux! easy 'tis on such conditions
To visit you, and do you all good offices.
So handsomely, and with such elegance
You've din'd us, we shall ne'er forget the kindness.

Sil.
'Twas done with a good will; and ev'ry thing
I think you wish, it shall be mine to get.

Bawd.
'Troth! I shall always think we came to you,
Blown hither, as the sailors us'd to say,
On a calm sea, and with a prosperous gale.
So kindly have we been receiv'd to-day,
Nor was there any thing displeasing to me,
Except that silly custom—

Sil.
What! I pray you?

Bawd.
The fellow brought about the glass too seldom;
And spoil'd besides the colour of the wine.

Gym.
Pray, is it decent here to mention it?

Bawd.
Decent! 'Tis right—There is no stranger here.

Sil.
My love's your due, who love and honour me.

Bawd.
It is but right, my dear Silenium,
Our order 'mongst ourselves should keep up love,
And aid each other—When our dames of birth,
And grandee matrons, you may see how they
Cultivate friendship mutual; and cement
Their mutual correspondence, if we do
The same, and imitate their prudent custom.
Yet thus scarce live we, they so envy us
Of what they have, no share will they allow us.
Yet would be glad to have us be without
Strength of our own, and need their aid in all things,
That we may live their supplicant dependants.
Should you wait on them, you would rather give them
Your room, than company.—Before the world,
'Tis true, they're civil to us: but in private,
Whene'er occasion offers, underhand
They throw cold water on us—They give out
That we have commerce with their husbands; call us
Their harlots; for they still would keep us under,
Because we are the daughters but of slaves
Made free; and not free women like themselves.
Your mother and myself were of the trade;
We both were courtezans—She brought up you,
And I this girl: [meaning Gymnasium.]
from unknown parents both.
Nor did I drive my own to prostitution,
To gratify my vanity, but that
I might have means to keep us both from starving.

Sil.
But surely, it had been more eligible
To have got the girl an husband—

Bawd.
Ah! by Castor!
She has every day an husband; one to-day;
To-night she'll have another—I ne'er suffer
The girl to lie in widow'd sheets.—That soon
Would bring our house to famine.

Gym.
It behoves me
Ever to be what you would have me, mother.

Bawd.
'Troth! if you'll ever be what I would have you,
I sha'nt repent my pains—For if you are
What I would always have you, you will never
Become a Hecale; but continue always
As young and fair as now:—And while you fleece
Others, you'll be a gain to me, without
Farther expence of mine.

Gym.
The gods so grant it!

Bawd.
Without your help, the gods themselves can't do it.

Gym.
By Hercules! then, I'll do my best endeavours.
But amidst all this chat, my dear Silenium,
(I never saw you sadder) prithee tell me,
Why so averse to mirth?—You do not heed
Your dress as heretofore—How deep you sigh!
And then so pale—Speak, tell us both the matter,
And how we may assist you—Don't o'erwhelm me
Thus with your grief, your trouble and your tears.

Sil.
I am uneasy, my Gymnasium, ill,
And pine away—My spirit is depress'd,
My eyes are painful; and I feel a faintness—
What shall I say, but that my folly drives me
To this sad state?—

Gym.
Be then your folly buried
Where it arose—

Sil.
What shall I do?

Gym.
Why, hide it
Inly, i'th'deep recesses of your breast:
Be conscious of it to yourself alone.
Let none else know it.

Sil.
But I've pain at heart—

Gym.
What's that? From whence have you this pain at heart?
Pray tell me—For the men say, that a heart
Is not in me, nor any other woman.

Sil.
If any heart I have that can feel pain,
It pains me—If I've none, I feel however,
Pain here— [pointing to her heart.]


Gym.
The girl's in love!

Sil.
Is love, I pray you,
So bitter then at first?—

Gym.
By Castor! love
Hath both its gall and honey in abundance.
Sweet to the tast—But in't we swallow bitter
Ev'n till we loath—

Sil.
The malady with which
I pine, my dear Gymnasium, has that form.

Gym.
Love's full of treachery.

Sil.
So he makes his spoils
On me—

Gym.
Take courage—Your disease will mend.

Sil.
I trust it would, were the physician present
That could apply the medicine to this malady.

Gym.
Oh! he will come—

Sil.
A tedious word, he will,
To a girl in love, unless he come indeed.
But 'tis my fault I am tormented thus;
Who still have wish'd with him, and him alone,
To spend my days.—

Gym.
Well it becomes a wife
To love one man; to wear out life with him,
To whom she once is married—But with us,
A courtezan is like a wealthy town;
Which cannot get a livelihood alone,
But wants a multitude.

Sil.
Pray mind the affair
In hand—I'll tell you why I sent for you.
My mother, finding me averse to the name
Of courtezan, and, since I had in all things
Obey'd her will, comply'd with me in this,
To let me live with him I lov'd so dearly.

Bawd.
In troth, the more fool she!—But have you never
Kept company with any man?

Sil.
With none
Except Alcesimarchus: neither has
Another man injur'd my chastity.

Bawd.
And by what arts, I pray you, did this man
Gain your good grace?—

Sil.
At Bacchus' feast it was—
My mother carried me to see the shew.—
As I return'd, he from his secret stand
Had ey'd me to the door—And from that time
He by endearments, entertainments, presents,
Engag'd at once her friendship and my own.

Gym.
Would any one procure me such a man,
I'd give a good account of him, I warrant.

Sil.
What need of words?—A mutual intercourse
Began a mutual passion 'twixt us both.

Bawd.
O my Silenium!

Sil.
What?

Bawd.
You should feign love,
Not feel it; if you do, immediately
You'll more regard the welfare of your lover
Than of yourself—

Sil.
Ay, but he swore, in words
Most sacred, to my mother, that he'd marry me;
But now another is provided for him,
A Lemnian, his relation, here hard by.
His father's meer authority has done it.
And now my mother is displeas'd with me,
That I return'd not home, on my first knowledge
Of his intended marriage with another.

Bawd.
Nothing's unfair in love.

Sil.
Permit, I prithee!
Your daughter to be here only three days;
And look to my house, while I attend my mother,
Who has sent for me.

Bawd.
She's at your disposal.
Tho' let me tell you, they will be three days
Of trouble and of loss—

Sil.
Friendly and kind!
But, my Gymnasium, if while I am absent,
Alcesimarchus come, chide him not roughly.
Howe'er he has deserv'd of me, I love him.
Be gentle with him, lest you anger him.
Here are my keys—And if there's any thing
You've need of, freely take it—I must go—

Gym.
You have drawn tears into my eyes.

Sil.
My dear,
Adieu!

Gym.
Of your dear self take care.—But do you
Go off so much in deshabille?

Sil.
'Tis fit
My dress should suit my fortunes—

Gym.
But take up
Your robe at least—

Sil.
No, let it drag; myself
Am drag'd along—

Gym.
Since you will have it so,
[taking up her robe.
Adieu!—Look to your health—

Sil.
Yes, if I can.

[Exit Sil.
Gym.
Well, mother, would you any thing with me,
E'er I go in?—In my mind, she's in love.

Bawd.
That's what I'm ever dinning in thy ears,
Never to be in love—Go, get you in—

Gym.
Would you ought else?

Bawd.
Your health—

Gym.
And yours—Adieu!

[Exit Gym.

SCENE II.

Bawd.
I am, for all the world, like half the sex
That keep our trade—Soon as we've got our load,
We prate away, and chatter more than need.
This very girl, that's now gone off in tears,
Did I take up an infant, and expos'd
In a lone lane, and bred her up as mine.
Here is a certain youth, nobly allied—
(Why should not I, now I have eat my fill,
And got my skin full freely, free my tongue—
I cannot keep it, tho' so great a secret.)
His father lives at Sicyon, of a family
The noblest there.—The youth grew desperate,
Lost in the love of her you saw in tears,
And she of him—I made a present of her
To this Melænis, a good friend of mine;
Who oft had ask'd me for some boy or girl,
An infant, whom she might pretend her own.
Soon as I could, I granted her request,
And gave her this.—When she had got the girl,
She was directly brought to bed of her,
Without a midwife, or child-bearing throes;
Unlike those fools, who bring it on themselves.
And then, to make a fair pretence for having
A child supposititious, 'twas, forsooth,
To flatter her gallant, some foreigner.
We two alone are in the secret; I,
Who gave the girl, and she, who took her of me.
Except yourselves, indeed. [to the spectators.]
This is the story.
If any thing comes of it, you'll remember—
I must trot homeward—

[Exit.

SCENE III.

The PROLOGUE.

Enter AUXILIUM.
Aux.
How this old soul loves
To tattle, and to tipple!—Tho' a god,
She has scarce left me any thing to say.
She has forestall'd the market with her prate
Of this supposititious girl; when, had she
But held her tongue, I, who am call'd a god,
Could have explain'd it better—For my name's
Auxilium—Now attend me, and I'll tell you
How the plot lies.—At Sicyon were the feasts
Of Bacchus not long since, to which there came
A certain Lemnian merchant—Full of wine
And youth, he in the street, at dead of night,
Compress'd a girl—Conscious, for such a crime
What he deserv'd, he, with his heels took shelter,
And quick made off to Lemnos, where he liv'd.
The girl was here deliver'd of a daughter,
After due time; and, ignorant of the man
That did the deed, her father's servant made
Partaker of her project; and to him
Gave the poor girl to be to death expos'd.
This he strait did—This woman took her up—
The servant cunningly observ'd the place,
The house, to which the bantling was convey'd.
The Bawd, as you have heard her own, but now,
Gave her the courtezan Melænis, who
As her own daughter, educated her
In honesty and virtue—Now, this Lemnian
Married a neighbour, and a near relation.
The wife was complaisant enough, and died—
He, having paid due honours to her memory,
Came hither, and was married to the girl
He had compress'd; and knew her for the same.
She told him, she, from the compression, was
Deliver'd of a daughter, whom she gave
To a servant, to expose immediately.
That servant strait he orders to search out,
If e'er she might be found who took her up:
The servant to this task applied himself,
Assiduous to find out the courtezan,
Whom he, from his concealment, had observ'd
To take away the child he had expos'd.
I'll tell you now all that remains untold,
And so discharge my debt—A youth there lives
At Sicyon;—his father is alive—
This expos'd girl he loves to excess, the same
You saw but now go weeping to her mother:
She pays his love with that, which of all loves
The sweetest is, love mutual.—But such is
The state of all things human, that no bliss
Of man's perpetual—The father thinks
To give his son a wife—Her mother hears it,
And sends for her directly to come home.
And thus the matter stands—Farewell! and conquer,
As you was wont, with valour undismay'd.
Retain your old allies, support your new ones.
Still your supplies by your just laws increase.
Destroy your foes, and praise and laurels gather—
And may the vanquish'd Carthaginians still
Feel from your arms their proper punishment.

[Exit.