University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Enter CLEÆRETA.
Cle.
If any purchaser should offer me
For every word you've said, a Philippean,
I would not part with them—Whate'er you've said
Wrongfully of us, is good gold and silver.
Your heart's lock'd up with us, and Cupid keeps
The key—Haste then, begone this instant.
Hoist all the sail you can, and ply your oars.
The farther you get out to sea, the sooner
The increasing surge will bring you back to port.

Arg.
[aside.]
By Pollux! that inspector of the customs
Shall not be paid his duty. [to her.]
Yes, I'll treat you
As you've deserv'd, and as my ruin'd fortune
Shall dictate to me: You who have excluded me
Your house, when I have not deserv'd from you
Such treatment.

Cle.
Yes, you tell us so in words,
But you'll not make it good by deeds.

Arg.
'Twas I,
'Twas I alone, who brought you from obscurity,
Redeem'd you from your poverty; when I
Alone conferr'd my favours on you, you
Could scarce return acknowledgement enough.

Cle.
And still you shall continue so, provided
You always give me every thing I ask.

Arg.
When you are never satisfied, what bounds
To giving?—You have scarce receiv'd a favour,
But you are ready to ask something more.

Cle.
What bounds? Are you e'er satisfied yourself
With love, or with enjoyment of my daughter?
No sooner have you sent her home to me,
But you directly send for her again.

Arg.
In truth I've given whate'er you wanted of me.

Cle.
And I have ever sent to you your girl.
I've given you a requital, like for like;
And what I gave was in return for money.

Arg.
You use me ill.

Cle.
Why blame me, if I do
My duty? For 'twas never feign'd in story,
Painted in pictures, or in poems written,
That when a bawd shews favour to a lover,
It was for aught but for her own advantage.

Arg.
'Twould be but right to give me some indulgence,
That I may last the longer.

Cle.
What! not know,
The bawd that is indulgent to a lover,
Shews small indulgence to herself—A lover
Is to a bawd just like a fish; which if
Not fresh, is good for nothing. When 'tis fresh
'Tis full of juice, 'tis sweet; which ever way,
Or in whatever manner 'tis you season it,
Or stew'd or roasted; which way e'er you will,
You turn it often—Just so a new lover,
To give is ever ready, ever willing
To have something ask'd of him—For when he takes
From a full bag, he knows not what he gives,
Nor thinks on what he's out of pocket by it.
He thinks on nothing but to make himself
Both pleasing to his mistress and to me;
The footman, household servants, and the maidens;
Nay, a good lover strokes my lap-dog, that
Whene'er he sees him, he may wag his tail.
I tell you truth—'Tis right for every one
To be attentive to his proper interest.

Arg.
Yes, to my cost I've learn'd that this is true.

Cle.
By Castor's temple, if you had to give,
You'd tell another tale; but now you've nothing,
You think to have your mistress by abusing me.

Arg.
'Tis not my way.

Cle.
Troth, neither is it mine,
To let you take away the girl for nothing.
But this I'll do in pity to your youth,
And from the high regard which I have for you,
Considering too, that you have paid attention
To our advantage, more than your own fame,
If you will give me down upon the nail
Two silver talents for your honour's sake,
This night you shall possess your mistress gratis—

Arg.
But, what if I have not the money?

Cle.
Why
'Twill be worse for you; she shall go elsewhere.

Arg.
What is become of that already given you?

Cle.
'Tis spent—Was it not so, and I still had it,
The girl should be sent to you; and I'd ask
For nothing—True, I purchase not with money
Daylight nor water, sun nor moon, nor night:
What else we want, we buy for ready money.
If from the baker's we want bread, or wine
From out the vaults, if we send ready money
We have the goods—And thus it is with us.
My hands have always eyes—Within their palm
They never credit ought but what they see.
'Tis an old saying, money down's the thing.
Do you attend to me?—I'll say no more.

Arg.
Now I'm undone, you talk another language:
Far different this from that which once you talk'd,
When I was wont to make you presents: then
You sooth'd me, kindly spake to me, and bless'd me—
Your very house receiv'd me with a smile,
Whene'er I came to you. Oft you told me,
And told Philenium too the same, you lov'd
Me only, and preferr'd me to all others.
When I had ought to give, you then were ever
Like two young pigeons hanging on my lips:
Your likings all depended upon mine:
Whate'er I bad you do, or chose to have done,
You did: whatever I forbad the doing,
Or chose should not be done, with utmost care
You'd shun to do, nor dar'd to set about it.
Now whether I would have ought done or not,
Is no concern of yours, you wicked creatures—

Cle.
Know you not this?—Our trade is very like
The trade of fowling—When he has pitch'd upon
A place, the fowler throws down corn; the birds
Approach it. He who'd seek for gain, must be
At some expence. The birds oft eat the corn:
But once they're catch'd, they reimburse the fowler.
Just so it is with us. Our house, the place;
The fowler, I; the corn, the courtezan;
The bed is the decoy; the birds, the lovers.
They become tame by frequent salutations,
By speaking soft and kindly, mutual kisses,
With pleasant, sweet discoursing intermix'd.
If he should touch her bosom, then it is
Advantage to the fowler. Farther, if
He has ta'en a kiss, he's caught without a net.
You who so oft have made the experiment,
Have you forgot this?

Arg.
There you are to blame
To turn away a scholar half instructed.

Cle.
Come back again, when you have got the money,
With confidence; at present, get you gone.

Arg.
Stay, stay and hear me—What am I to give you
To have her to myself the whole year round?

Cle.
To have her to yourself? Why, twenty minæ.
On this condition tho', that if another
Should bring the money first, farewell to you.

Arg.
But I, before you go, have something more
To say to you—

Cle.
Well then, say what you please.

Arg.
I'm not entirely ruin'd, I've yet left
Something to lose—I've wherewithal to give you
What you demand; but on my own conditions,
That I the whole year have possession of her,
And she admit no other man whatever.

Cle.
The servants shall be all made eunuchs, if
'Tis your desire—Bring with you a deed,
Containing what is now agreed between us.
Enjoin whate'er you please, make your own bargain;
Bring but the money with you, all the rest
I shall with ease come into—A bawd's doors,
Like those of a collector of the customs,
If you bring with you wherewithal, are open:
If you have nought to give, why then they're shut.

[Exit.
Arg.
Unless I can procure these twenty minæ
I am undone—And if I pay it not,
I'm ruin'd horse and foot—I'll hie me now
Strait to the forum, try my utmost force—
I'll beg, I'll earnestly entreat each friend
I meet, accost both good and bad—And if
I can't without, must take it up at interest.

[Exit.