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See, give that child the breast—How miserable,
How anxious are mothers, how distress'd!
'Tis a bad business this: and when I think
Upon it well, and turn it in my mind,
I am convinc'd, we're not esteem'd so bad
As in reality we are; and this
I speak from what I've just now learn'd at home.
What vast uneasiness, what pain I feel,
Lest this child's death should ruin all my plot.
And I'm more anxious for its life, because
I'm its reputed mother, and have dar'd
In private to attempt so bold a fraud.
'Twas greediness and thirst of gold, which push'd
Me on to this base deed: and made me sham
Another's pains—We never should attempt
An act of fraud, unless we are resolv'd
To carry it on with craft and diligence.

You see I'm dress'd as if I'd just lain in;
[to the spectators.
And soon shall counterfeit a decent sickness.
Whene'er a woman once begins a fraud,
Unless she perfects it, she'll find it pain
And grief and misery—If a good work
She takes in hand, how soon will she be weary!
But few indeed are tir'd with acting wrong;
And fewer persevere in acting right.
A woman finds it a much easier task
To do an evil, than a virtuous deed.
I, partly from my mother's bad advice,
And partly from my own bad disposition,
Am but a wicked jade 'tis true; who have
Thus feign'd a pregnancy; and have declar'd
The Babylonian captain as the father.
I hope he'll find the plot conducted well.
I apprehend e'er long he will be here,
And with that previous knowledge I'm fore-arm'd.
I'm dress'd as if I had but just lain in.
Bring me the oyl of cinnamon, and fire
For the altar—I'll now to Lucina pay
My adoration—Set them down and leave me.
Retire ye from my presence—Ho! Pithecium—
Get ready for my lying down—Come near—
Assist—This suits a woman in the straw—
Take off my sandals, and throw over me
My robe, Archillis—Where are you, Astaphium?
Bring me the vervain, frankincense, sweet wine,
And water for my hands—By Castor! now
I wish the captain here—