University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Enter CAPPADOX from the temple of ÆSCULAPIUS.
CAPPADOX.
Since I perceive what Æsculapius means,
I am resolv'd forthwith to quit his temple.
Too well I find he pays me no regard:
Nor is dispos'd to cure me—For my health
Declines apace, my malady gets ground.
I walk as I were girdled with my spleen;
And look as if my belly carried twins—
Wretch that I am! I fear me I shall burst—

Enter PALINURUS [speaking to PHÆDROMUS within]
Pal.
You would do well, Sir, would you list to me,
And bannish from your mind this anxious sorrow.
You doubt your parasite's return from Caria.
'Tis my opinion, he will bring the money.
For if he bring it not, no chain's so strong
To hold him from his crib to eat with you.

Cap.
Who's talking here?

Pal.
What voice is this I hear?

Cap.
'Tis Palinurus sure, the slave of Phædromus.

Pal.
What man is this, with this club-paunch, and eyes
As green as grass! I know his figure sure,
But his complexion puzzles me. Oh!—Now
I know him well; 'tis the procurer Cappadox.
I will accost him—

Cap.
Save you, Palinurus!

Pal.
Ha! is it you, the chief in all bad pranks?
Save you!—How fares it—

Cap.
I am just alive—

Pal.
That's just as much as you deserve—But what
Is it that ails you?

Cap.
Why; I'm kill'd with spleen,
My reins are painful, and my lungs are torn,
My liver is in torment, and my heart-strings
Are crack'd, and all my small guts full of pain.

Pal.
Then your complaint is of the royal sort.

Cap.
An easy matter 'tis, to jeer the wretched!

Pal.
I'd have you hold out still a few days longer,
'Till your intestines 'gin to putrify—
For if you now go off, while yet their salting
Has not lost all its virtue, your intestines
May fetch a greater price than will yourself.

Cap.
Ay, but my spleen, I say's truss'd up—

Pal.
Then walk—
That's best for all disorders of the spleen—

Cap.
Truce with your raillery, and answer me
To what I ask. I've had a dream to night:
If I should tell it you, can you expound it?

Pal.
I am the only man who knows that art:
The interpreters of dreams all come to me
In consultation; and when I have answer'd,
Abide by my opinion.—

SCENE II.

Enter COOK.
Cook.
Palinurus,
Why this delay? Why don't you set me out
The things I want; that our keen parasite,
When he comes back, may find his dinner ready.

Pal.
You'll wait 'till I interpret him his dream?

Cook.
Whene'er you dream yourself, you apply to me.

Pal.
'Tis true.

Cook.
Go then, and look me out what's necessary.

Pal.
Agreed—Mean time then, tell your dream to him.
I warrant him more skilful than myself:
For what I know, I know it all from him.

Cap.
Let him attend to me—

Pal.
He will—

Cap.
He is,
What few slaves are, obedient to his master—
Mark me then—

Cook.
Well—Tho' you're unknown to me.

Cap.
This night I dream'd, that Æsculapius sat
At distance from me: nor did he approach
Nor seem to heed me—

Cook.
O! this signifies
That all the other gods will do the like.
In truth, there is among them but one mind.
No wonder, if it fares no better with you.
Better you'd pass'd the night in great Jove's temple—
He spar'd you, when you invok'd him to a falsehood.

Cap.
If all who take false oaths were to sleep thus,
The capitol itself would not contain them.

Cook.
Attend then: and to Æsculapius sue
For peace, lest some misfortune happen to you,
Such as has been foreboded in this dream.

Cap.
You counsel well.—I'll go into the temple,
And ask his favour—

Cook.
May he never grant it!

Pal.
Immortal gods! who is it there I see?
Is't not the parasite I sent to Caria?
Phædromus, haste; come forth, come forth, I say.

Enter PHÆDROMUS.
Phæ.
What noise is this?

Pal.
See, see, your parasite
Coming this way at farther end o'the street.
Let's step aside, and list what he's about—

Phæ.
I think you're in the right—

SCENE III.

Enter CURCULIO.
Cur.
Known or unknown,
Make way, while I do my commission here:
Fly all, begone, and quit the way to me,
Lest in my speed, with elbow, breast, knee, head,
I some one hurt; I am so charg'd with business
Of diligence and speed; no man whatever,
Let him be e'er so rich, let him be king,
Or general, let him be clerk o'the market,
Sheriff or headborough in all his glory,
Shall stand before me, if he stops my way—
And those cloak'd Grecians, who stalk gravely on,
With their heads cover'd, and their laps quite cramm'd
With books—They carry baskets with them too.
They stop the runaways, and chatter still
Their wise opinions—At each tippling house
You see them toping—There they hide their heads,
And as they steal their liquor, drink it hot—
Then with great gravity, and half seas over,
They sally forth: but, if I meet with them,
I'll make them send their barley-broth out backwards.
The slaves too of buffoons, who play in th'streets,
The throwers and the catchers of the ball,
All to the ground I fell.—Why, let 'em keep
At home, and by that means avoid the danger.

Phæ.
[aside.]
If this same fellow were our governor,
He shews what he'd be at. Such are our manners;
And such slaves now: 'tis well he wants the means
To put the thing he knows so well, in practice.

Cur.
Is there none here, can tell me where to find
My patron Phædromus? my business hastes,
And I must meet with him as soon as possible.

Pal.
He's seeking you.—

Phæ.
Suppose we join him—Ho!
Curculio! Here! 'Tis you I want—

Cur.
Who calls me
By name?

Phæ.
One who has wish'd to meet with you.

Cur.
You could not more than I have wish'd for you.

Phæ.
O my commodious, necessary, long'd for
Curculio, save you!

Cur.
Save you too—

Phæ.
How stand
My hopes?—Speak out—I beg you tell me all—

Cur.
Speak out, I pray, and tell me how stand mine.

Phæ.
What is the matter?

Cur.
Oh! my eyes grow dim,
My knees are weak with hunger—

Phæ.
Weariness—

Cur.
Support me, hold me up, I beg of you.—

Phæ.
See you, how pale he looks? a seat here quickly;
Go bring a ewer with water—Hast, be quick—

Cur.
I'm sick at heart—

Phæ.
Would you some water?

Cur.
No—
A bit to eat—I'd swallow't in a moment—

Phæ.
A plague confound you!

Cur.
Give me, I beseech you,
On my arrival, some refreshment?

Phæ.
Yes,
It shall be done. [fanning him.]


Cur.
What is it you're about?

Phæ.
Why, giving you refreshment.

Cur.
No, I want not
Refreshment quite so airy.

Phæ.
Why, what then?

Cur.
I want to eat; 'tis that, on my arrival
Must welcome me.

Phæ.
May Jove, and all the Gods
Confound you!

Cur.
I'm quite spent, I scarce can see,
My mouth is bitter, and my teeth are rusty,
My jaws for want of exercise, are grown
Quite clammy, and my guts quite lank thro' emptiness.

Phæ.
Well, by-and-by then, you shall eat a morsel.

Cur.
None of your morsels, I'm for a full meal.

Phæ.
Did you but know what is reserv'd for you?

Cur.
I wish I knew but where: my teeth want much
To find it out.

Phæ.
A ham; a fat sow's paunch,
With paps and kernels.

Cur.
What, all these?—Perhaps
You mean i'th'market—

Phæ.
In the dish, I tell you,
And ready for you, since we heard the news
Of your arrival.

Cur.
Don't play tricks with me.

Phæ.
As I could wish the girl I love, lov'd me,
I do not lye. But I hear nothing yet
Of the affair on which you were dispatch'd.

Cur.
I have brought back nothing.

Phæ.
Then am I undone.

Cur.
I could find something, if you'll have but patience.
According to your order, I set out,
Arriv'd at Caria—there I saw your friend.
I ask him to make up the sum you wanted.
He'd have you think him willing to oblige you,
Nor would he disappoint you—as becomes
Friends to be willing to assist each other—
But answer'd in few words, and faithfully;
That he, like you, was in great want of money.

Phæ.
Your words are daggers—

Cur.
Nay, I'm saving you,
And I will have you sav'd—Upon this answer,
I left him, and went thence unto the Forum,
Pensive to think my errand was in vain.
By accident I there espy'd a captain.
Him I accost with salutations—He
Returns the compliment—Then takes my hand,
Draws me apart, and asks me, Why at Caria?
I tell him, I came thither for amusement.
Says he, In Epidaurus do you know
Lyco the banker?—Yes, says I, I do.—
And know you the procurer Cappadox?
Says he—O, ay, I yearly visit him.—
But what of him?—Because I bought of him
A girl for thirty minæ; and her cloaths,
And jewels for ten minæ more—The money,
Says I, have you yet paid him? It is lodg'd
In Lyco's hands, the banker that I spoke of:
I order'd him, that when he should receive
A letter from me, seal'd with my own ring,
He strait should take the girl, her cloaths and jewels
From the procurer—Having heard his story,
I left him—Strait he calls me back; invites me
To sup with him—My conscience would not let me
Refuse his offer—Then, says he, suppose
We go, and take our places at the table.
The motion pleas'd me—For it suits not me
To lengthen out the day, nor injure night
Of her due rights, defrauding her—In short,
All was prepar'd, and we ourselves not wanting.
When we had eat and drank, he took the dice,
And challeng'd me to play—I stake my cloak;
And he his ring—and then invok'd Planesium.

Phæ.
My mistress?

Cur.
Peace a while—He threw deuce-ace.
I take the dice: invoke my patron Hercules!
And throw a princely cast. Then drink to him
In a large cup of wine. He drinks it up,
Reclines his head, and sleeps. I slily draw
From him his ring; and steal from off the couch,
For fear the captain see me. Whither going?
The slaves then ask—Why, whither all men go,
Who've made an hearty meal—As soon as e'er
I saw the door, I took me to my heels.

Phæ.
I praise you.

Cur.
Praise me, when I've done your job!
Come, come, let's in, and seal—

Phæ.
Do I delay you?

Cur.
But first for this same ham, kernel and paps.
A good foundation for the belly these.
Bread, bumpers, beef, and a capacious pot.
These will supply good counsel: while you seal,
He'll wait, and I shall eat. I'll dictate to you
What you shall write—Follow me in.

Phæ.
I follow.

[Exeunt.