 | The Courtezans |  |
SCENE II.
Enter 1 BACCHIS and 2 BACCHIS.1 Bac.
Who is it that with such a noise and tumult,
Calls on my name, and knocks thus at the door?
Nic.
I, and this man here.
95
What's this business, say?
Prithee, who was it drove these sheep to us?
Nic.
These worst of hussies call us sheep.
2 Bac.
Their shepherd
Is sure asleep, since from the flock they come
Thus straggling.
1 Bac.
They look mighty white, and both
Are very clean.
2 Bac.
They both have just been shorn.
Phil.
Mark how they seem to flout us!
Nic.
Ay, ay, let them
Go on just as they please.
1 Bac.
D'you think they're shorn
Three times a year?
2 Bac.
Why one has been twice shorn
This very day—That's fact.
1 Bac.
These ancient beasts
Love thyme.
2 Bac.
I think they've once been in good plight.
96
See how they cast a sheep's eye at us—Look!
2 Bac.
I'll answer for't they have no ill design.
Phil.
'Troth we deserve all this for coming hither.
1 Bac.
Drive them to fold.
2 Bac.
There's no occasion for it.
They've neither milk, nor wool—Let them stand here.
How valuable so e'er they may have been,
They're now grown out of date. The fruit is drop'd
Quite off the tree—You see they stray alone.
I fancy they are dumb with age—They don't
So much as bleat, tho' absent from their flock.
1 Bac.
They seem but silly, harmless sheep—Come, sister,
Let us go in again.
Nic.
Stay both of you.
The sheep would speak to you.
1 Bac.
Prodigious this!
Sheep call us in a human voice!
Phil.
These sheep
97
1 Bac.
If aught you owe me, I forgive it you.
Keep it yourself, I never will demand it.
But what's the reason why you threaten us?
Phil.
Because they say, our lambs are lock'd up here.
Nic.
Besides these lambs, I have a curst cur there.
And, if you don't produce; and send them out,
We shall be metamorphos'd into rams;
And furiously attack you.
1 Bac.
This way, sister.
I've something to communicate apart.
2 Bac.
What pray?
[they go apart.
Nic.
[aside]
Where are they gone?
1 Bac.
Sister, I yield
The old fellow, he that's farthest off I mean,
To you—With art cajole him. I'll attack
The angry man—We may entice them in.
2 Bac.
I'll do my part. But 'tis an odious task
To embrace a corpse.
1 Bac.
Endeavour to succeed.
2 Bac.
Perform your part—I'll not go from my word.
Nic.
What are these two consulting there in private?
[to Philoxenus.
Phil.
What say you, friend?
Nic.
What would you have with me?
Phil.
There is a certain thing I blush to tell you.
Nic.
What is't you blush to tell me of?
Phil.
'St! 'St!—
There is a certain thing I long to trust
98
For nothing.
Nic.
Ay, that I've known long since.
But what d'you mean by good for nothing? Say.
Phil.
I'm hamper'd dreadfully indeed—My heart
Perceives the goad.
Nic.
'Twere better 'twas your side.
But what is it? Tho' I already think
I know, I wish to hear it from yourself.
Phil.
See you this woman?
Nic.
Yes.
Phil.
She's not uncomely.
Nic.
Troth but she is—and you are good for nothing.
Phil.
In short I'm fall'n in love.
Nic.
What! you in love!
Phil.
You murder me.
Nic.
Why, you old rotten stump,
Dare you turn lover at this time of day?
Phil.
Why not?
Nic.
It is a shame.
Phil.
What need of words?
I have no quarrel with my son—Nor yet
Should you with your's. To love is to be wise.
1 Bac.
Follow this way.
Nic.
Behold, they're coming this way.
Alluring jades, ye counsellors to evil—
[to them.
What now?—Will you restore our sons? Restore
My servant too? Or must I try, what force
Will do?
Phil.
Begone—You're not a man, to treat.
99
1 Bac.
Best of old men,
Do not, let me intreat you, thus pursue
With such severity this single fault.
Nic.
Altho' you're handsome, if you march not off,
I'll do you some great mischief.
1 Bac.
I shall bear it.
Nor do I fear that any blow of your's
Will give me pain.
Nic.
How smooth of speech she is!
Alack!—alack!—In troth I'm sore afraid—
2 Bac.
He grows more calm—Come in with me, and then
[to Nicobulus.
If you're inclin'd, reprove your son.
Nic.
Avaunt!—
Hence, harlotry—
1 Bac.
Let me prevail upon you,
My dear! my life!
Nic.
What! you prevail upon me!
1 Bac.
I'm sure, I shall prevail on this good man!
[meaning Philoxenus.
Phil.
I beg it as a favour, shew me in.
2 Bac.
O charming man!
Phil.
You know, on what condition,
You're to conduct me in.
2 Bac.
That you are with me.
Phil.
You mention every thing which I desire.
Nic.
Bad men I've seen; but never worse than you.
Phil.
I'm as you see.
1 Bac.
Come, come, go in with me,
100
With wines, with perfumes, and delicious viands.
Nic.
Fine treats enough you've had at my expence.
How I may be receiv'd, it recks me not.
My son and Chrysalus have chous'd me out of
Four hundred Philippæans; for the which
If I not torture him, I don't deserve
Ever again to have so great a sum.
1 Bac.
Suppose that half the money be return'd,
Will you go in, and pardon both their faults?
Phil.
He shall.
Nic.
I'll not—By no means—I dont care.
Let me alone—I'd rather be reveng'd
On both.
Phil.
You man of nothing, see you lose not,
By your neglect, the favour of the Gods.
Take half the money, drink, and have your wench.
Nic.
What! in the place, the very place wherein
My son has been debauch'd, can I carouse?
Phil.
Yes, there we must carouse.
Nic.
Well, do so then.
Altho' 'tis scandalous, I yet will bear it,
And bring my mind to do it. [pausing]
What! shall she
Be with my son on the same couch, and I
A looker on?
1 Bac.
No—By my troth, with you,
On the same couch, and you shall be my love,
And I'll caress you.
Nic.
How my head does itch!
101
1 Bac.
And don't you recollect the ancient saw,
My dear?—The time you live, indulge your appetite,
For life can ne'er last long; and if you miss
The opportunity to day, 'twill not
Return again when you are dead and gone.
Nic.
What shall I do?
Phil.
Still ask what shall you do?
Nic.
I long to go, but yet I am afraid.
1 Bac.
What is't you fear?
Nic.
Lest to my son, and servant
I should expose myself.
1 Bac.
A common case,
My love! He is your son. From whence, I prithee,
Should he d'you think have money, but from you?
Let me persuade you then to pardon both.
Nic.
How artfully the sly jade works upon me!
She has prevail'd on me to change what seem'd
As fix'd as fate. By you and by your art
I'm sunk beneath myself.
1 Bac.
No, no, my dear,
You ne'er from me shall tear yourself.—And that's
As fix'd as fate.
Nic.
The thing I once have said,
I'll never change.
1 Bac.
The day wears fast—Come in,
And let us to our couches. Now, your sons
Within expect—
Nic.
How soon we may be dead!
1 Bac.
'Tis evening—Follow—
Phil.
Lead us on as bondmen.
102
[to the spectators]
These men who for their sons had laid a snare
Are cleverly entrap'd themselves—In—In.
[to Nicobulus and Philoxenus.
[Exeunt omnes.
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