 | The Persian |  |
SCENE III.
Enter SAGARISTIO.Sag.
For his deserts with pleasure I rejoice
In the renowned son of Ops, high Jove,
The mighty, powerful, and the supreme,
Who hope, and help and plenty does bestow.
For he it is has kindly lent the money,
That I may aid my friend—I neither dream'd,
Nor could have thought, nor ever could imagine
I should have such an opportunity—
'Tis just as if it drop'd from heaven—My master
Has sent me to Eretria, to buy
Some oxen train'd for service, and has given me
The money for the purchase—And he said
The fair would be the seventh day from hence.
A fool, to give me money, when he knows
My disposition—To some other use
I shall apply it—Then, there are no oxen
For me to buy—And now unto my friend
I'll give success, and freely gratify
My inclinations—One day's pain will pay
An age of pleasure—Thwack upon my shoulders—
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My friend with these train'd oxen from my purse—
O 'tis a charming thing, to bite your dry,
Niggardly, covetous, spiritless old fellows,
Who from their slaves lock up their very salt.
'Tis virtue, when a fair occasion serves,
To hold them in contempt—What will he do?—
Why strait command me to be scourg'd and shackled—
Then let him do't—I would not have him think
I'll be upon my knees—My curses on him!
He can do nought but what I have experienc'd—
But see! Here's Pægnium, Toxilus's boy.
| The Persian | |