 | The Churl |  |
SCENE I.
Enter STRABAX.STRABAX.
One morning, not long since, my father sent me
Into the country hence, to give out fodder
To feed our oxen; scarce got I there, when
One came up to our farm, (so't pleas'd the gods!)
Who ow'd my father money: he had bought,
It seems, Tarentine sheep of him—He ask'd
Where was my father—Why, in town, I answer'd him.
And then I ask'd what was his business with him.
He took his purse from off his neck, and gave me
Just twenty minæ. Gladly I receiv'd them,
And stuff'd them in my purse—Away went he,
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Stow'd in my purse—By Pollux' temple! Mars
Is desperately enrag'd against my father,
His sheep have strol'd so very near the wolves.
Now all your finical, fine town gallants,
With this one stroke I'll set adrift, and turn them
Strait out of doors—My father I'm first fix'd
To ruin: then my mother—Now, to her,
Whom I much better than my mother, love;
I'll take the money—Who's here?—Nobody?
[knocking at Phronesium's door.
Who opens me the door?—
Enter ASTAPHIUM.
Ast.
What's this? Good now,
My Strabax!—You a stranger!—And why not
Come in at once?—Ought you to have been so shy?
You whom we look upon one of the family—
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Well, well, I'll in then, that you may not think
I loiter here too long—
Ast.
Why that's well done.
[Exit Strabax.
| The Churl | |