University of Virginia Library

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.