University of Virginia Library

ACT. III.

SCENE I.

Enter SATURIO, and his daughter in the habit of a Persian.
SATURIO.
Heaven grant, this thing may turn out well to me,
To you, my appetite, and also to
A perpetuity of feasts!—O may
There be enough, a superfluity, and may
They e'en outlast me!—With the gods good leave,
Follow me, daughter—You perceive, you know,
You comprehend the thing we are to do—
All my designs I have imparted to you;
And for that purpose I have dress'd you thus,
You must be sold to day—

Daug.
I beg, my father,
At others cost how much so e'er you wish
To eat, you'd not, to gratify your appetite,
Now sell your daughter.

Sat.
'Twould be strange, that I,
For Attalus, or for king Philip's sake,
Should rather sell thee, girl, than for my own.
Why, are you not my own?

Daug.
Do you, my father,
Look on me as your daughter, or your slave?

Sat.
That which is most convenient for my appetite—
I am your lord and master, not you mine—

Daug.
Father, I own it, it is true you are—
But since our pittance is but small, we ought
To lead a frugal, and a modest life.
For, if to poverty we add disgrace,
Our poverty will be of double weight;
Our credit, of no weight at all.

Sat.
Be gone—
You are impertinent—

Daug.
I hope I'm not,
Nor do I think I am; when, though so young,
I give my father good advice—Our foes
Misrepresent things—

Sat.
Let them, as they please;
And then go hang themselves—for their reports
Won't hurt me half so much, nor do I think them
One half so bad, as an uncover'd table.

Daug.
Disgrace and scandal are immortal, sir;
And live, when one would think them dead and gone.

Sat.
What! are you then afraid lest I should sell you?

Daug.
My father—no I'm not afraid you will.
But I could wish you would not feign to sell me—

Sat.
That wish is vain; for I must have my will.
It shall be so—What now!

Daug.
Reflect on this—
Whene'er a master menaces a slave;
Although he don't intend to put his threats
In execution, whilst the whip's in hand,
While he undresses, what's the misery,
What is the pain, he does not undergo!
So I the thing, which may not happen, fear.

Sat.
There never was a girl, nor yet a woman,
Who thought herself much wiser than her parents,
But she was good for nothing—

Daug.
Let me say,
There never was a girl, nor yet a woman,
That e'er was good, who held her peace, while things
Were going wrong before her face.

Sat.
You'd better
Beware of mischief—

Daug.
If I can't avoid it,
What should I do? You'd best beware yourself.

Sat.
Am I a mischief?

Daug.
No: And if you were
It would not become me to say you were—
But I would do my best to hinder others
From saying it, who have licentious tongues.

Sat.
Let every man say what he will, I will not
Be driven from this purpose—

Daug.
Sir, if I
Might have my way, you rather should act wisely
Than act imprudently—

Sat.
It is my pleasure—

Daug.
Your pleasure I esteem a law—But if
I had my will, it should not be your pleasure.

Sat.
Will you, or will you not obey your father?

Daug.
I'm all obedience.—

Sat.
Know you my instructions?

Daug.
I know them all—

Sat.
And this among the rest—
How you was stolen?

Daug.
Perfectly well—

Sat.
And who
Your parents were?

Daug.
I bear it all in mind.
You force me to do this through meer necessity.
But pray, be cautious, when you'd have me married,
That this report don't spoil the match—

Sat.
Peace, fool!
You don't observe the manners of the times—
Girls, of whatever character, get husbands,
Easily here—And so they have but money,
All faults are overlook'd—

Daug.
Remember though
That I'm without a fortune—

Sat.
Say not so—
Through the assistance of the gods, and from
My ancestors, I swear I have a fortune
For you.—Say not then you are dowerless,
Who have at home a fortune—I have got
A choice collection of most curious books—
And if you manage this affair adroitly,
Your fortune is, six hundred witty sayings,
All Attic—Not a Syracusian word
Among them—With a fortune such as this,
Why you may marry even with a beggar—

Daug.
If I'm to go, sir, lead me where you will—
Or sell me, or do with me what you please.

Sat.
You now say what is just and equitable—
Follow me this way—

Daug.
I obey you, sir—

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter DORDALUS.
Dord.
What shall I say my neighbour is about?
Who swore, he'd this day let me have the cash:
If he does not, and lets the whole day pass,
His oaths he'll forfeit, and I lose my money.
But the door creaks—Who is it coming out?

SCENE III.

Enter TOXILUS.
Tox.
Take care within doors—I shall be at home
Forthwith—

[speaking to the slaves within—
Dor.
What are you, Toxilus, about?

Tox.
So ho there, sirrah!—pimp of dirt and mud—
Thou publick dunghill, shameful fellow, filth,
Unrighteous, lawless ruin of the city,
Thou money-hawk—greedy and spiteful, bold,
Rapacious, stingy—In three hundred verses,
Who can recount thy villainies—Here, take
The money, impudence! What?—won't you take it?
Is there no way to make you take it, scoundrel?
Who would'st not trust me, but upon my oath.

Dor.
Let me recover breath to answer you—
Dregs of the rabble, and for worn out wenches
Thou stable, and of punks thou manumitter,
Of scourges thou consumer, wearer out
Of fetters—Citizen of bridewell thou—
Eternal slave, thou gormandizing glutton—
Thou thief, thou run-away—Give me the money,
Give it, I say—Consummate impudence!
Is there no way to wrest the money from thee?
Give me the money—What! and won't you give it me?
Can nothing shame you?—Why, thou perfect slavery—
To let a merchant here demand his money,
So loud, that the whole town may hear—Why 'tis
The purchase of your mistress's liberty—

Tox.
Truce with your tongue, I beg—your voice is strong,
And must prevail—

Dor.
Yes, yes, I have a tongue
To give an answer—My salt costs no more
Than yours—And if this tongue will not defend me,
It never shall lick salt again—

Tox.
So now
I'm calm again—It put me in a rage
That you refus'd to trust me with the money.

Dor.
'Tis marvellous indeed I did not trust you:
That you might act as many bankers do,
Who from the forum run, when they have pocketed
The cash, fast as a hare, when at the games
She's first turn'd out—

Tox.
Take this—

Dor.
Why don't you give it?

Tox.
Here are six hundred pieces, ready told—
Now give my girl her freedom—Bring her here,
Immediately—

Dor.
I'll bring her in a twinkling—
By Hercules! I know not whom to trust,
To try this money—

Tox.
What, are you afraid,
Not to find any hand to trust it in?

Dor.
It would be strange indeed, should not the bankers
Scamper away, and fly off from the forum,
Swift as the chariot wheel whirls round the circus—

Tox.
Thro' th'alley go, the back way to the forum;
And thro' the garden let her come to me,
The same back-way—

Dor.
I'll see, she shall be here—

Tox.
But not in publick—

Dor.
No, no—most discreetly.

Tox.
To morrow to the gods she shall return
Her thanks—

Dor.
That's right, by Hercules!

Tox.
You might
Have been return'd, while you've been loitering here.

[Exeunt.