University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Enter TOXILUS.
Tox.
Yes, I have hit upon the very thing,
How I may make the pandar buy to day,
With his own cash, his own slave's liberty—
But see the parasite, whose help I want—
I'll make pretence as if I did not see him,
So draw him on—Mind you those things—Be brisk—
[to the slaves within.]
Lest ought be unprepar'd when I return,
Mix the sweet wine—Get myrrh and quinces ready—
Let them be warm'd together o'er the fire—
Throw in besides the aromatick reed—
For I expect my pot companion here.—

Sat.
[apart.]
O brave!—Well said—I am the man he means—

Tox.
For he'll return from bathing presently.

Sat.
[apart.]
What care he takes to have all things in order!

Tox.
See that the buns and biscuits be well done,
Serve them not up undress'd—

Sat.
[apart.]
He speaks the thing!
They're good for nought unless you eat them dress'd.
Nor are the sauces good, but when the spoon
Will stand an end—I hate your thin, clear slops
Tinctur'd with saffron—I like my sauce thick,
Stiff as a jelly—That which I should eat,
I would not drink—

Tox.
Some one is talking here,
I know not who—

Sat.
O my terrestrial Jove!
Your guest salutes you—

Tox.
You have nick'd the time,
Saturio—

Sat.
Now by Pollux! that's a fib
And misbecomes you mightily—for 'troth
I come Hungurio, not Saturio hither—

Tox.
But you shall eat—The dainties smoak within—
I've order'd last night's remnants to be warm'd—

Sat.
A ham is better cold the second day—

Tox.
So have I order'd it to be serv'd up.

Sat.
Hast any ketchup?

Tox.
Psha! Psha!—Ask you that?

Sat.
Nay, you're a man of taste.

Tox.
Don't you remember
The thing I mention'd yesterday—

Sat.
Quite well—
The conger eel should not be warm'd again,
Nor lamprey—both are eaten better cold.
Why do we loiter?—Let's begin the attack—
The morning is the time all men should eat—

Tox.
'Tis sure too early in the day—

Sat.
In general
What in the morning you begin, employs
The day—

Tox.
I beg your serious attention.
But yesterday, I had some talk with you—
And earnestly begg'd of you, that you'd lend me
Six hundred pieces, which I had a use for.

Sat.
I well remember it—And know you ask'd,
And that I had not wherewithal to lend it—
What sort of parasite is he, I pray,
Who has his money in his chest at home?
Had he wherewith at home to make a feast,
He'd cram and stuff his guts immediately.
A Parasite in truth should be a Cynic.
A jug, a strigil, drinking cup, and socks,
A cloak and purse, with just enough to serve
In cases of necessity, is all
He ought to have.—

Tox,
I now don't want your money—
Let me, instead of money, have your daughter—

Sat.
By Pollux' temple! I don't let my daughter—

Tox.
I mean not for the purpose you insinuate—

Sat.
Why, what is't then you want her for—

Tox.
I'll tell you.
She's a genteel smart figure—

Sat.
Yes, she is so—

Tox.
This pandar knows you not, nor yet your daughter—

Sat.
There's none know me, but those who entertain me.

Tox.
That's true—By this means, you may raise me cash.

Sat.
I wish I could—

Tox.
Then let me sell your daughter.

Sat.
You sell her?—

Tox.
No, not I—I will depute
Some other in my stead, who shall pretend
To be a foreigner, and he shall sell her—
'Tis not six months ago, that he, the pandar,
Remov'd from Megaris—

Sat.
The cookery spoils—
This may be done another time—

Tox.
But how?
You shall not eat a morsel—Nay depend on't,
Till you engage to do the thing I ask.
As soon as possible, unless you bring
Your daughter here, by Herc'les, I'll cashier you.
What now!—Why don't you tell me what you'll do?

Sat.
'Troth if you have a mind to't, sell me too,
So you'll but sell me with my stomach full.

Tox.
If you will do it, do it—

Sat.
I will do
Just what you please—

Tox.
That's kind—Make haste—Hie home—
Tutor your daughter cunningly; and give her
Her cue with art—How she may frame her story—
Where she may say she had her birth—Who were
Her parents, and the place whence she was stolen—
Let her suppose, tho', it was far from Athens—
Where she was born—And all the while she tells
Her story, let her feign a flood of tears—

Sat.
What! han't you said enough?—She's three times worse
Than even you could wish her.

Tox.
That's well said—
But do you know what 'tis I'd have you do?
You must provide a tunick and a girdle,
And bring a broad brim'd hat, and soldier's cloak
To dress him in, who is to sell your daughter.

Sat.
Excellent this!

Tox.
As if he was a foreigner.

Sat.
I praise your scheme—

Tox.
Do you then bring your daughter,
Quaintly dress'd out, and in some foreign fashion.

Sat.
But whence intend you to procure the habit?

Tox.
Why, from the master of the wardrobe—'Tis
His business to accommodate the actors—
The Ædiles for that purpose plac'd him there.

Sat.
Well, I'll take care to bring them here immediately,
But I am to know nothing of the matter.

Tox.
No, not a syllable—As soon as e'er
I have receiv'd the money she is sold for,
You will directly claim her of the pandar—

Sat.
If I don't bear her off immediately,
Why let him keep her—

Tox.
Go, and mind your business—
[Exit Saturio.
Meanwhile, I'll to my love dispatch the boy—
Bid her take heart—And tell her I shall finish
Th'affair to day—I prattle here too long.—

[Exit.