 | The Carthaginian |  |
SCENE V.
Enter LYCUS.Lyc.
Let all diviners now go hang themselves.
Why should I henceforth credit what they say?
Who, in the sacrifice, e'en now foretold
341
Since when, I have increas'd my fortune.
Ago.
Save you!
Lyc.
May the gods bless you, Agorastocles!
Ago.
You greet me now more civilly than usual.
Lyc.
'Tis now a calm; as 'tis at sea sometimes—
I'm always us'd to shift the sail to windward.
Ago.
I hope the women are all well at home.
For thee—I care not.
Lyc.
Well enough they are:
But not for you.
Ago.
Send me this day, I prithee,
This celebrated, famous day, this feast
Of Venus, send me Adelphasium.
Lyc.
Say, has your dinner burnt your mouth to-day?
Ago.
How's that?
Lyc.
Because your question only serves
To cool your chaps—
342
Pandar, attend—I hear
My slave's with you—
Lyc.
With me! You'll never find
That fact—
Ago.
You lye.—He came to you, and brought
Some money to you—This was told to me
By those whom I can trust—
[pointing to the witnesses.]
Lyc.
You are a bite:
And come to ensnare me with your Witnesses.
There's nought of yours, people or property,
At my house—
Ago.
Witnesses, remember that.
Wit.
We'll not forget it.
Lyc.
[laughing.]
Now I smoke this plot.
I smelt a rat before—These are the men
Who recommended me the Spartan stranger;
'Tis that has fir'd their brains; as, by his means,
I am to get three hundred Philippæans.
And, as they know this man to be my enemy,
They've set him on to say it is his slave
Who brought the gold, and is at home with me.
'Tis all a form'd contrivance how to chouse me;
And to divide the plunder 'mongst themselves.
From the wolf's jaws they'd snatch the lamb—They're fools.
Ago.
Do you deny my money and my slave
Are at your house?
Lyc.
I do deny it, flat;
And would till I was hoarse, were there occasion—
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You're in a cleft stick, pandar—'Tis his bailiff
We told you was the Spartan, and who brought you
Three hundred Philippeans; and the money
Is in that purse—
Lyc.
The plague now light upon you.
Wit.
That has already lighted upon you.
Ago.
Hang-dog! give up the purse—You're prov'd a thief,
You're taken with the manner—Pray attend,
[to the witnesses.]
And see me bring my slave out of his house.
[goes into the Lycus's house.]
Lyc.
Now I'm undone indeed—Without a doubt,
This snare was laid designedly to catch me.
But why do I delay to hang myself,
E're neck and heels I'm dragg'd before the Prætor—
Out on't! what sad soothsayers I have had!
If ought of good they promise, it comes slowly;
If ought of ill, it speeds with instant hast—
Now will I go, consult my friends, which way,
They think the very best—to hang myself.
[Exit Lycus.
| The Carthaginian | |