 | The Courtezans |  |
SCENE I.
Enter NICOBULUS.NICOBULUS.
Who are, who have been, or from hence shall be
Fools, noddies, ideots, dolts, oafs, sots, and blockheads,
I, single I, exceed them all in folly,
And in absurdity of manners too.
I am undone, and am asham'd to say so.
Ought I not blush too, at my time of life,
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I think upon the stir my son has made,
The more I am incens'd. I'm utterly
Undone and ruin'd—Vex'd a thousand ways—
All plagues attend me, and I die all deaths.
That rascal Chrysalus this day has plunder'd me,
Wretch that I am! he has robb'd me of my money.
With his keen tricks, just as the villain pleas'd,
He has shav'd me to the quick—For now, the Captain
Says plainly, that this Bacchis is his mistress,
Whom Chrysalus affirm'd to be his wife.
He has inform'd me of the whole affair,
That he had hir'd her for a year—The sum
She had to pay in order to be off,
Was what I in the heighth of folly promis'd.
'Tis this, 'tis this, which makes me so uneasy,
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In my old age to be so gull'd and fool'd!
And with a hoary head, and snowy beard
To be thus trick'd and cheated of my money!
That my own slave should dare to hold me cheap!
Undone, undone!—By other means I could
Have lost much more, have ta'en it less to heart,
And should have thought the loss not half so great.
Enter PHILOXENUS.
Phil.
Some one, I'm sure, seems talking not far off,
I know not whom. But who is this I see?
Sure 'tis the father of Mnesilochus.
Nic.
My brother in affliction and misfortune.
All hail! to you, Philoxenus.
Phil.
The same
To you—whence come you?
Nic.
From a place, from whence
A luckless, and a wretched man should come.
Phil.
And I'm, by Pollux! in the very place,
Just where a wretched, luckless man should be.
Nic.
Our fortunes, and our ages are alike.
Phil.
Even so—But what has hap'd to you?
Nic.
In troth
Much such ill hap as your's—
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And is this sorrow,
Upon your son's account?
Nic.
Yes truly, 'tis.
Phil.
I have the same disease at heart.
Nic.
That Chrysalus,
That precious villain has undone my son,
And ruin'd me, and all my fortune.
Phil.
Prithee,
Tell me what's this affair about your son?
Nic.
Why, you shall hear—My son, and your's with him,
Are both undone—For each of them has got
His mistress.
Phil.
And how know you that?
Nic.
I saw them.
Phil.
Alas! I'm ruin'd.
Nic.
Why then don't we knock,
And bid them both come out?
Phil.
You've my consent.
Nic.
Ho! Bacchis! Bacchis, ho!—This instant order
The door be open'd, if you would not have
That, and the pillars too knock'd down with hatchets.
[Knocks at Bacchis's door.
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