PHORMIO.

PHORMIO.PERSONS REPRESENTED.Prologue.Demipho.Chremes.Antipho.Phædria.Cratinus.Crito.Hegio.Phormio.Dorio.Geta.Davus, and other Servants.Nausistrata.Sophrona.Scene, Athens.PROLOGUE.TheOld Bard finding it impossibleTo draw our Poet from the love of verse,And bury him in indolence, attemptsBy calumny to scare him from the stage;Pretending that in all his former playsThe characters are low, and mean the style;Because he ne’er describ’d a mad-brain’d youth,Who in his fits of frenzy thought he sawA hind, the dogs in full cry after her;Her too imploring and beseeching himTo give her aid.—But did he understandThat, when the piece was first produc’d, it ow’dMore to the actor than himself its safety,He would not be thus bold to give offense.—But if there’s any one who says, or thinks,“That had not the Old Bard assail’d him first,Our Poet could not have devis’d a Prologue,Having no matter for abuse;”—let suchReceive for answer, “that although the prizeTo all advent’rers is held out in common,The Veteran Poet meant to drive our BardFrom study into want:Hetherefore choseTo answer, though he would not first offend.And had his adversary but have prov’dA generous rival, he had had due praise;Let him then bear these censures, and reflectOf his own slanders ’tis the due return.But henceforth I shall cease to speak of him,Although he ceases not himself to rail.”But now what I’d request of you, attend:To-day I bring a new play, which the GreeksCall Epidicazomenos; the Latins,From the chief character, name Phormio:Phormio, whom you will find a parasite,And the chief engine of the plot.—And now,If to our Poet you are well inclin’d,Give ear; be favorable; and be silent!Let us not meet the same ill fortune nowThat we before encounter’d, when our troopWas by a tumult driven from their place;To which the actor’s merit, secondedBy your good-will and candor, has restor’d us.ACT THE FIRST.SCENE I.Davusalone.Geta, my worthy friend and countryman,Came to me yesterday: for some time pastI’ve ow’d him some small balance of account:This he desir’d I would make up: I have;And brought it with me: for his master’s son,I am inform’d, has lately got a wife:So I suppose this sum is scrap’d togetherFor a bride-gift. Alack, how hard it isThat he, who is already poor, should stillThrow in his mite to swell the rich man’s heap!What he scarce, ounce by ounce, from short allowance,Sorely defrauding his own appetite,Has spar’d, poor wretch! shall she sweep all at once,Unheeding with what labor it was got?Geta, moreover, shall be struck for more;Another gift, when madam’s brought to bed;Another too, when master’s birthday’s kept,And they initiate him.——All this mammaShall carry off, the bantling her excuse.But is that Geta?SCENE II.EnterGeta.Geta(at entering.) If a red-hair’d manInquire for me——Davus.No more! he’s here.Geta.Oh, Davus!The very man that I was going after.Davus.Here, take this! (Gives a purse.) ’Tis all told: you’ll find it right;The sum I ow’d you.Geta.Honest, worthy Davus!I thank you for your punctuality.Davus.And well you may, as men and times go now,Things, by my troth, are come to such a pass,If a man pays you what he owes, you’re muchBeholden to him.—But, pray, why so sad?Geta.I?—You can scarce imagine in what dread.What danger I am in.Davus.How so?Geta.I’ll tell you,So you will keep it secret.Davus.Away, fool!The man whose faith in money you have tried,D’ye fear to trust with words?—And to what endShould I deceive you?Geta.List, then!Davus.I’m all ear.Geta.D’ye know our old man’s elder brother, Chremes?Davus.Know him? aye, sure.Geta.You do?—And his son Phædria?Davus.As well as I know you.Geta.It so fell out,Both the old men were forc’d to journey forthAt the same season. He to Lemnos, oursInto Cilicia, to an old acquaintanceWho had decoy’d the old curmudgeon thitherBy wheedling letters, almost promisingMountains of gold.Davus.To one that had so muchMore than enough already?Geta.Prithee, peace!Money’s his passion.Davus.Oh, would I had beenA man of fortune, I!Geta.At their departure,The two old gentlemen appointed meA kind of governor to both their sons.Davus.A hard task, Geta!Geta.Troth, I found it so.My angry Genius for my sins ordain’d it.At first I took upon me to oppose:In short, while I was trusty to th’ old man,The young one made my shoulders answer for it.Davus.So I suppose: for what a foolish taskTo kick against the pricks!Geta.I then resolv’dTo give them their own way in every thing.Davus.Aye, then you made your market.Geta.Our young sparkPlay’d no mad pranks at first: but PhædriaGot him immediately a music-girl:Fond of her to distraction! she belong’dTo a most avaricious, sordid pimp;Nor had we aught to give;—th’ old gentlemanHad taken care of that. Naught else remain’d,Except to feed his eyes, to follow her,To lead her out to school, and hand her home.We too, for lack of other business, gaveOur time to Phædria. Opposite the school,Whither she went to take her lessons, stoodA barber’s shop, wherein most commonlyWe waited her return. Hither one dayCame a young man in tears: we were amaz’d,And ask’d the cause. Never (said he, and wept)Did I suppose the weight of povertyA load so sad,soinsupportable,As it appear’d but now.—I saw but now,Not far from hence, a miserable virginLamenting her dead mother. Near the corpseShe sat; nor friend, nor kindred, nor acquaintance,Except one poor old woman, was there nearTo aid the funeral. I pitied her:Her beauty, too, was exquisite.—In short,He mov’d us all: and Antipho at onceCried, “Shall we go and visit her?”—Why, aye,“I think so,” said the other; “let us go!”“Conduct us, if you please.”—We went, arriv’d.And saw her.—Beautiful she was indeed!More justly to be reckon’d so, for sheHad no additions to set off her beauty.Her hair dishevel’d, barefoot, woe-begone,In tears, and miserably clad: that ifThe life and soul of beauty had not dweltWithin her very form, all these togetherMust have extinguish’d it.—The spark, possess’dAlready with the music-girl, just cried,“She’s well enough.”—But our young gentleman——Davus.Fell, I suppose, in love.Geta.In love, indeed.But mark the end! next day, away he goesTo the old woman straight, beseeching herTo let him have the girl.—“Not she, indeed!Nor was it like a gentleman,” she said,“For him to think on’t: She’s a citizen,An honest girl, and born of honest parents:——If he would marry her indeed, by lawHe might dothat; on no account, aught else.”—Our spark, distracted, knew not what to do:At once he long’d to marry her, at onceDreaded his absent father.Davus.Would not he,Had he return’d, have giv’n consent?Geta.To wedA girl of neither family nor fortune?Never.Davus.What then?Geta.What then! There is a parasite,One Phormio, a bold, enterprising fellow,Who—all the Gods confound him!——Davus.What did he?Geta.Gave us the following counsel.—“There’s a lawThat orphan Girls should wed their next of kin,Which law obliges too their next of kinTo marry them.”—I’ll say that you’re her kinsman,And sue a writ against you. I’ll pretendTo be her father’s friend, and bring the causeBefore the judges. Who her father was,Her mother who, and how she’s your relation,All this sham evidence I’ll forge; by whichThe cause will turn entirely in my favor.You shall disprove no tittle of the charge;You shall disprove no title of the charge;So I succeed.—Your father will return;Prosecute me;—what then?—The girl’s our own.”Davus.A pleasant piece of impudence!Geta.It pleas’dOur spark at least: he put it into practice;Came into court; and he was cast; and married.Davus.How say you?Geta.Just as you have heard.Davus.Oh Geta,What will become of you?Geta.I don’t know, faith.But only this I know, what’er chance brings,I’ll patiently endure.Davus.Why, that’s well said,And like a man.Geta.All my dependence isUpon myself.Davus.And that’s the best.Geta.I mightBeg one indeed to intercede for me,Who may plead thus—“Nay, pardon him this once!But if he fails again, I’ve not a wordTo say for him.”—And well if he don’t add,“When I go hence e’en hang him!”Davus.What of him,Gentleman-usher to the music-girl?How goes he on?Geta.So, so!Davus.He has not muchTo give, perhaps.Geta.Just nothing, but mere hope.Davus.His father too, is he return’d?Geta.Not yet.Davus.Nor your old man, when do you look for him?Geta.I don’t know certainly: but I have heardThat there’s a letter from him come to port,Which I am going for.Davus.Would you aught elseWith me, good Geta?Geta.Nothing, but farewell!ExitDavus.Ho, boy! what, nobody at home! (Enter boy.) Take thisAnd give it Dorcium. (Gives the Purse, and Exit.)SCENE III.Antipho,Phædria.Ant.Is it come to this?My father, Phædria!—my best friend!—That IShould tremble, when I think of his return!When, had I not been inconsiderate,I, as ’tis meet, might have expected him.Phæd.What now?Ant.Is that a question? and from you?Who know the atrocious fault I have committed?Oh, that it ne’er had enter’d Phormio’s mindTo give such counsel! nor to urge me on,In the extravagance of blind desire,To this rash act, the source of my misfortunes!I should not have possess’d her: that indeedHad made me wretched some few days.—But thenThis constant anguish had not torn my mind.——Phæd.I hear you.Ant.—While each moment I expectHis coming to divorce me.Phæd.Other men,For lack of what they love, are miserable;Abundance is your grievance. You’re too richA lover, Antipho! For your conditionIs to be wish’d and pray’d for. Now, by Heaven,Might I, so long as you have done, enjoyMy love, it were bought cheaply with my life.How hard my lot, unsatisfied, unbless’d!How happy yours, in full possession!—OneOf lib’ral birth, ingenuous disposition,And honest fame, without expense, you’ve got:The wife, whom you desir’d!—in all things bless’d,But want the disposition to believe so.Had you, like me, a scoundrel pimp to deal with,Then you’d perceive—But sure ’tis in our natureNever to be contented.Ant.Now to me,Phædria, ’tis you appear the happy man.Still quite at large, free to consider still,To keep, pursue, or quit her: I, alas!Have so entangled and perplex’d myself,That I can neither keep nor let her go.—What now? isn’t that our Geta, whom I seeRunning this way?—’Tis he himself— Ah me,How do I fear what news he brings!SCENE IV.Enter at a distanceGeta, running.Geta.Confusion!A quick thought, Geta, or you’re quite undone,So many evils take you unprepar’d;Which I know neither how to shun nor howTo extricate myself: for this bold strokeOf ours can’t long be hid.Ant.What’s this confusion?Geta.Then I have scarce a moment’s time to think.My master is arriv’d.Ant.What mischief’s that?Geta.Who, when he shall have heard it, by what artShall I appease his anger?—Shall I speak?’Twill irritate him.—Hold my peace?—enrage him.——Defend myself?—impossible?—Oh, wretch!Now for myself in pain, now AntiphoDistracts my mind.—But him I pity most;For him I fear; ’tis he retains me here:For, were it not for him, I’d soon provideFor my own safety—aye, and be reveng’dOn the old graybeard—carry something off,And show my master a light pair of heels.Ant.What scheme to rob and run away is this?Geta.But where shall I find Antipho? where seek him?Phæd.He mentions you.Ant.I know not what, but doubtThat he’s the messenger of some ill news.Phæd.Have you your wits?Geta.I’ll home: he’s chiefly there.Phæd.Let’s call him back!Ant.Holloa, you! stop!Geta.Heyday!Authority enough, be who you will.Ant.Geta!Geta(turning). The very man I wish’d to meet!Ant.Tell us, what news?—in one word, if you can.Geta.I’ll do it.Ant.Speak!Geta.This moment at the port——Ant.My father?Geta.Even so.Ant.Undone!Phæd.Heyday!Ant.What shall I do?Phæd.What say you? (ToGeta.)Geta.That I’ve seenHis father, Sir,—your uncle.Ant.How shall I,Wretch that I am! oppose this sudden evil!Should I be so unhappy to be tornFrom thee, my Phanium, life’s not worth my care.Geta.Since that’s the case then, Antipho, you oughtTo be the more upon your guard.Ant.Alas!I’m not myself.Geta.But now you should be most so, Antipho.For if your father should discern your fear,He’ll think you conscious of a fault.Phæd.That’s true.Ant.I can not help it, nor seem otherwise.Geta.How would you manage in worse difficulties?Ant.Since I’m not equal to bear this, to thoseI should be more unequal.Geta.This is nothing.Pooh, Phædria, let him go! why waste our time?I will be gone. (Going.)Phæd.And I. (Going.)Ant.Nay, prithee, stay!What if I should dissemble?—Will that do?Endeavoring to assume another air.Geta.Ridiculous!Ant.Nay, look at me! will thatSuffice?Geta.Not it.Ant.Or this?Geta.Almost.Ant.Or this?Geta.Aye! now you’ve hit it. Do but stick to that;Answer him boldly; give him hit for dash,Nor let him bear you down with angry words.Ant.I understand you.Geta.“Forc’d”—“against your will”——“By law”—“by sentence of the court”—d’ye take me?—But what old gentleman is that I seeTurning the corner of the street?Ant.’Tis he.I dare not face him. (Going.)At t’other end o’ th’ street?Ant.’Tis he himself.I dare not face him. (Going.)Geta.Ah! what is’t you do?Where d’ye run, Antipho! stay, stay, I say.Ant.I know myself and my offense too well:To you, then, I commend my life and love.Exit.SCENE V.ManentPhædriaandGeta.Phæd.Geta, what now?Geta.You shall be roundly chid;I soundly drubb’d; or I am much deceiv’d.—But what e’en now we counsel’d Antipho,It now behooves ourselves to practice, Phædria.Phæd.Talk not of what behooves, but say at onceWhat you would have me do.Geta.Do you rememberThe plea whereon you both agreed to rest,At your first vent’ring on this enterprise?“That Phormio’s suit was just, sure, equitable,Not to be controverted.”——Phæd.I remember.Geta.Now then that plea! or, if it’s possible,One better or more plausible.Phæd.I’ll do’t.Geta.Do you attack him first! I’ll lie in ambush,To reinforce you, if you give ground.Phæd.Well. (They retire.)SCENE VI.EnterDemiphoat another part of the stage.Dem.How’s this? a wife! what, Antipho! and ne’erAsk my consent?—nor my authority——Or, grant we pass authority, not dreadMy wrath at least?—To have no sense of shame?—Oh, impudence!—Oh, Geta, rare adviser!Geta.Geta at last.Dem.What they will say to me,Or what excuse they will devise, I wonder.Geta.Oh, we have settled that already: thinkOf something else.Dem.Will he say this to me,—“Against my will I did it”—“Forc’d by law”———I hear you: I confess it.Geta.Very well.Dem.But conscious of the fraud, without a wordIn answer or defense, to yield the causeTamely to your opponents—did the lawForce you tothattoo?Phæd.That’s home.Geta.Give me leave.I’ll manage it.Dem.I know not what to do:This stroke has come so unawares upon me,Beyond all expectation, past belief.—I’m so enrag’d, I can’t compose my mindTo think upon it.—Wherefore ev’ry man,When his affairs go on most swimmingly,Ev’n then it most behooves to arm himselfAgainst the coming storm: loss, danger, exile,Returning ever let him look to meet;His son in fault, wife dead, or daughter sick——All common accidents, and may have happen’d;That nothing should seem new or strange. But ifAught has fall’n out beyond his hopes, all thatLet him account clear gain.Geta.Oh, Phædria,’Tis wonderful how much a wiser manI am than my old master. My misfortunesI have consider’d well.—At his returnDoom’d to grind ever in the mill, beat, chain’d,Or set to labor in the fields; of theseNothing will happen new. If aught falls outBeyond my hopes, all that I’ll count clear gain.—But why delay t’accost th’ old gentleman,And speak him fair at first? (Phædriagoes forward.)Dem.Methinks I seeMy nephew Phædria.Phæd.My good Uncle, welcome!Dem.Your servant!—But where’s Antipho?Phæd.I’m gladTo see you safe——Dem.Well, well!—But answer me.Phæd.He’s well: hard by.—But have affairs turn’d outAccording to your wishes?Dem.Would they had!Phæd.Why, what’s the matter?Dem.What’s the matter, Phædria?You’ve clapp’d up a fine marriage in my absence.Phæd.What! are you angry with him about that?Geta.Well counterfeited!Dem.Should I not be angry?Let me but set eyes on him, he shall knowThat his offenses have converted meFrom a mild father to a most severe one.Phæd.He has done nothing, Uncle, to offend you.Dem.See, all alike! the whole gang hangs together:Know one, and you know all.Phæd.Nay, ’tis not so.Dem.One does a fault, the other’s hard at handTo bear him out: when t’other slips,he’sready:Each in their turn!Geta.I’ faith th’ old gentlemanHas blunder’d on their humors to a hair.Dem.For, were’t not so, you’d not defend him, Phædria.Dem.If ’twere not so, you’d not defend him, Phædria.Phæd.If, Uncle, Antipho has done a wrong,Or to his interest or reputation,I am content he suffer as he may:But if another, with malicious fraud,Has laid a snare for unexperienced youth,And triumph’d o’er it; can you lay the blameOn us, or on the judges, who oft takeThrough envy from the rich, or from compassionAdd to the poor?Geta.Unless I knew the cause,I should imagine this was truth he spoke.Dem.What judge can know the merits on your side,When you put in no plea; as he has done?Phæd.He has behav’d like an ingenuous youth.When he came into court, he wanted pow’rTo utter what he had prepar’d, so muchHe was abash’d by fear and modesty.Geta.Oh brave!—But why, without more loss of time,Don’t I accost th’ old man! (Going up.) My master, welcome!I am rejoic’d to see you safe return’d.Dem.What! my good master Governor! your slave!The prop! the pillar of our family!To whom, at my departure hence, I gaveMy son in charge.Geta.I’ve heard you for some timeAccuse us all quite undeservedly,And me, of all, most undeservedly.For what could I have done in this affair?A slave the laws will not allow to plead;Nor can he be an evidence.Dem.I grant it.Nay more—the boy was bashful—I allow it.—You but a slave.—But if she had been prov’dEver so plainly a relation, whyNeeded he marry her? and why not ratherGive her, according to the law, a portion,And let her seek some other for a husband?Why did he rather bring a beggar home?Geta.’Twas not the thought, but money that was wanting.Dem.He might have borrow’d it!Geta.Have borrow’d it!Easily said.Dem.If not to be had else,On interest.Geta.Nay, now indeed you’ve hit it!Who would advance him money in your life?Dem.Well, well, it shall not, and it can not be,That I should suffer her to live with himAs wife a single day. There is no cause.—Would I might see that fellow, or could tellWhere he resides!Geta.What, Phormio!Dem.The girl’s Patron.Geta.He shall be with you straight.Dem.Where’s Antipho?Phæd.Abroad.Dem.Go, Phædria; find him, bring him here.Phæd.I’ll go directly.ExitGeta(aside). Aye, to Pamphila.ExitSCENE VII.Demiphoalone.I’ll home, and thank the Gods for my return:Thence to the Forum, and convene some friends,Who may be present at this interview,That Phormio may not take me unprepar’d.Exit.ACT THE SECOND.SCENE I.Phormio,Geta.Phor.And Antipho, you say, has slunk away,Fearing his father’s presence?Geta.Very true.Phor.Poor Phanium left alone?Geta.’Tis even so.Phor.And the old gentleman enrag’d!Geta.Indeed.Phor.The sum of all then, Phormio, rests on you:On you, and you alone. You’ve bak’d this cake;E’en eat it for your pains. About it then!Geta.I do beseech you.Phor.(to himself.) What if he inquire?——Geta.Our only hope’s in you.Phor.(to himself). I have it!—Then,Suppose he offer to return the girl?——Geta.You urg’d us to it.Phor.(to himself). Aye! it shall be so.Geta.Assist us!Phor.Let him come, old gentleman!’Tis here: it is engender’d: I am arm’dWith all my counsels.Geta.What d’ye mean to do?Phor.What would you have me do, unless contriveThat Phanium may remain, that AntiphoBe freed from blame, and all the old man’s rageTurn’d upon me?Geta.Brave fellow! friend indeed!And yet I often tremble for you, Phormio,Lest all this noble confidence of yoursEnd in the stocks at last.Phor.Ah, ’tis not so.I’m an old stager too, and know my road.How many men d’ye think I’ve bastinadoedAlmost to death? Aliens and citizens?The oft’ner, still the safer.—Tell me then,Didst ever hear of actions for assaultAnd batt’ry brought against me?Geta.How comes that?Phor.Because the net’s not stretch’d to catch the hawk,Or kite, who do us wrong; but laid for thoseWho do us none at all: In them there’s profit,In these mere labor lost. Thus other menIn those mere labor lost. Thus other menMay be in danger who have aught to lose;I, the world knows, have nothing.—You will say,They’ll seize my person.—No, they won’t maintainA fellow of my stomach.—And they’re wise,In my opinion, if for injuriesThey’ll not return the highest benefit.Geta.It is impossible for AntiphoTo give you thanks sufficient.Phor.Rather say,No man sufficiently can thank his patron.You at free cost to come! anointed, bath’d,Easy and gay! while he’s eat up with careAnd charge, to cater for your entertainment!He gnaws his heart, you laugh; eat first, sit first,And see a doubtful banquet plac’d before you!Geta.Doubtful! what phrase is that?Phor.Where you’re in doubt,What you shall rather choose. Delights like theseWhen you but think how sweet, how dear, they are;Him that affords them must you not supposeA very deity?Geta.The old man’s here.Mind what you do! the first attack’s the fiercest:Sustain but that, the rest will be mere play. (They retire.)SCENE II.Enter at a distanceDemipho—Hegio,Cratinus,Crito, following.Dem.Was ever man so grossly treated, think ye?—This way, Sirs, I beseech you.Geta.He’s enrag’d!Phor.Hist! mind your cue: I’ll work him.—(Coming forward, and speaking loud.) Oh, ye Gods!Does he deny that Phanium’s his relation?What, Demipho! does Demipho denyThat Phanium is his kinswoman?Geta.He does.Phor.And who her father was, he does not know?Geta.No.Dem.(to the Lawyers). Here’s the very fellow, I believe,Of whom I have been speaking.—Follow me!Phor.(aloud). And that he does not know who Stilpho was?Geta.No.Phor.Ah! because, poor thing, she’s left in want,Her father is unknown, and she despis’d.What will not avarice do?Geta.If you insinuateMy master’s avaricious, woe be to you!Dem.(behind). Oh impudence! he dares accuse me first.Phor.As to the youth, I can not take offense,If he had not much knowledge of him; since,Now in the vale of years, in want, his workHis livelihood, he nearly altogetherLiv’d in the country: where he held a farmUnder my father. I have often heardThe poor old man complain that this his kinsmanNeglected him.—But what a man! A manOf most exceeding virtue.Geta.Much at one:Yourself and he you praise so much.Phor.Away!Had I not thought him what I’ve spoken of him,I would not for his daughter’s sake have drawnSo many troubles on our family,Whom this old cuff now treats so scandalously.Geta.What, still abuse my absent master, rascal!Phor.It is no more than he deserves.Geta.How, villain!Dem.Geta! (Calling.)Geta.Rogue, robber, pettifogger! (ToPhormiopretending not to hearDemipho.)Dem.Geta!Phor.Answer. (Apart toGeta.)Geta(turning). Who’s that?—Oh!Dem.Peace!Geta.Behind your backAll day without cessation has this knaveThrown scurvy terms upon you, such as noneBut men like him can merit.Dem.Well! have done.PuttingGetaby, then addressingPhormio.Young man! permit me first to ask one question.And, if you please, vouchsafe to answer me.—Who was this friend of yours? Explain! and howMight he pretend that I was his relation?Phor.So! you fish for’t, as if you did not know. (Sneeringly.)Dem.Know! I!Phor.Aye; you.Dem.Not I: You that maintainI ought, instruct me how to recollect.Phor.What! not acquainted with your cousin?Dem.Plague!Tell me his name.Phor.His name? aye!Dem.Well, why don’t you?Phor.Confusion! I’ve forgot the name. (Apart.)Dem.What say you?Phor.Geta, if you remember, prompt me. (Apart toGeta.)—Pshaw,I will not tell.—As if you did not know,You’re come to try me. (Loud toDemipho.)Dem.How! try you?Geta.Stilpho. (WhisperingPhormio.)Phor.What is’t to me?—Stilpho.Dem.Whom say you?Phor.Stilpho:Did you know Stilpho, Sir?Dem.I neither know him,Nor ever had I kinsman of that name.Phor.How! are you not asham’d?—But if, poor man,Stilpho had left behind him an estateOf some ten talents——Dem.Out upon you!Phor.ThenYou would have been the first to trace your lineQuite from your grandsire and great grandsire.Dem.True.Had I then come, I’d have explain’d at largeHow she was my relation: so do you!Say, how is she my kinswoman?Geta.Well said!Master, you’re right.—Take heed! (Apart toPhormio.)Phor.I have explain’dAll that most clearly, where I ought, in court.If it were false, why did not then your sonRefute it?Dem.Do you tell me of my son?Whose folly can’t be spoke of as it ought.Phor.But you, who are so wise, go seek the judge:Ask sentence in the self-same cause again:Because you’re lord alone, and have alonePow’r to obtain judgment of the courtTwice in one cause.Dem.Although I have been wrong’d,Yet, rather than engage in litigation,And rather than hear you; as if she wereIndeed related to us, as the lawOrdains, I’ll pay her dowry: take her hence,And with her take five minæ.Phor.Ha! ha! ha!A pleasant gentleman!Dem.Why, what’s the matter?Have I demanded any thing unjust?Sha’n’t I obtain this neither, which is law?Phor.Is’t even so, Sir?—Like a common harlot,When you’ve abus’d her, does the law ordainThat you should pay her hire and whistle her off?Or, lest a citizen through povertyBring shame upon her honor, does it orderThat she be given to her next of kinTo pass her life with him? which you forbid.Dem.Aye; to her next of kin: But why to us;Or wherefore?Phor.Oh! that matter is all settled:Think on’t no more.Dem.Not think on’t! I shall thinkOf nothing else till there’s an end of this.Phor.Words, words!Dem.I’ll make them good.Phor.But, after all,With you I have no business, Demipho!Your son is cast, not you: for at your ageThe coupling-time is over.Dem.Be assur’dThat all I’ve said he says: or I’ll forbidHim and this wife of his my house.Geta.He’s angry. (Apart.)Phor.No; you’ll think better on’t.Dem.Are you resolv’d,Wretch that you are, to thwart me ev’ry way?Phor.He fears, though he dissembles.Geta.Well begun!(Apart.)Phor.Well; but what can’t be cur’d must be endur’d:’Twere well, and like yourself, that we were friends.Dem.I! friend to you? or choose to see or hear you!Phor.Do but agree with her, you’ll have a girlTo comfort your old age. Your years, consider!Dem.Plague on your comfort! take her to yourself!Phor.Ah! don’t be angry!Dem.One word more, I’ve done.See that you fetch away this wench, and soon,Or I shall turn her headlong out o’doors.So much for Phormio!Phor.Offer but to touch herIn any other manner than beseemsA gentlewoman and a citizen,And I shall bring a swinging writ against you.So much for Demipho!—If I am wanted,I am at home, d’ye hear? (Apart toGeta.)Geta.I understand. (Apart.)ExitPhormio.SCENE III.

Prologue.

Demipho.

Chremes.

Antipho.

Phædria.

Cratinus.

Crito.

Hegio.

Phormio.

Dorio.

Geta.

Davus, and other Servants.

Nausistrata.

Sophrona.

Scene, Athens.

TheOld Bard finding it impossibleTo draw our Poet from the love of verse,And bury him in indolence, attemptsBy calumny to scare him from the stage;Pretending that in all his former playsThe characters are low, and mean the style;Because he ne’er describ’d a mad-brain’d youth,Who in his fits of frenzy thought he sawA hind, the dogs in full cry after her;Her too imploring and beseeching himTo give her aid.—But did he understandThat, when the piece was first produc’d, it ow’dMore to the actor than himself its safety,He would not be thus bold to give offense.—But if there’s any one who says, or thinks,“That had not the Old Bard assail’d him first,Our Poet could not have devis’d a Prologue,Having no matter for abuse;”—let suchReceive for answer, “that although the prizeTo all advent’rers is held out in common,The Veteran Poet meant to drive our BardFrom study into want:Hetherefore choseTo answer, though he would not first offend.And had his adversary but have prov’dA generous rival, he had had due praise;Let him then bear these censures, and reflectOf his own slanders ’tis the due return.But henceforth I shall cease to speak of him,Although he ceases not himself to rail.”But now what I’d request of you, attend:To-day I bring a new play, which the GreeksCall Epidicazomenos; the Latins,From the chief character, name Phormio:Phormio, whom you will find a parasite,And the chief engine of the plot.—And now,If to our Poet you are well inclin’d,Give ear; be favorable; and be silent!Let us not meet the same ill fortune nowThat we before encounter’d, when our troopWas by a tumult driven from their place;To which the actor’s merit, secondedBy your good-will and candor, has restor’d us.

TheOld Bard finding it impossible

To draw our Poet from the love of verse,

And bury him in indolence, attempts

By calumny to scare him from the stage;

Pretending that in all his former plays

The characters are low, and mean the style;

Because he ne’er describ’d a mad-brain’d youth,

Who in his fits of frenzy thought he saw

A hind, the dogs in full cry after her;

Her too imploring and beseeching him

To give her aid.—But did he understand

That, when the piece was first produc’d, it ow’d

More to the actor than himself its safety,

He would not be thus bold to give offense.

—But if there’s any one who says, or thinks,

“That had not the Old Bard assail’d him first,

Our Poet could not have devis’d a Prologue,

Having no matter for abuse;”—let such

Receive for answer, “that although the prize

To all advent’rers is held out in common,

The Veteran Poet meant to drive our Bard

From study into want:Hetherefore chose

To answer, though he would not first offend.

And had his adversary but have prov’d

A generous rival, he had had due praise;

Let him then bear these censures, and reflect

Of his own slanders ’tis the due return.

But henceforth I shall cease to speak of him,

Although he ceases not himself to rail.”

But now what I’d request of you, attend:

To-day I bring a new play, which the Greeks

Call Epidicazomenos; the Latins,

From the chief character, name Phormio:

Phormio, whom you will find a parasite,

And the chief engine of the plot.—And now,

If to our Poet you are well inclin’d,

Give ear; be favorable; and be silent!

Let us not meet the same ill fortune now

That we before encounter’d, when our troop

Was by a tumult driven from their place;

To which the actor’s merit, seconded

By your good-will and candor, has restor’d us.

Davusalone.

Geta, my worthy friend and countryman,Came to me yesterday: for some time pastI’ve ow’d him some small balance of account:This he desir’d I would make up: I have;And brought it with me: for his master’s son,I am inform’d, has lately got a wife:So I suppose this sum is scrap’d togetherFor a bride-gift. Alack, how hard it isThat he, who is already poor, should stillThrow in his mite to swell the rich man’s heap!What he scarce, ounce by ounce, from short allowance,Sorely defrauding his own appetite,Has spar’d, poor wretch! shall she sweep all at once,Unheeding with what labor it was got?Geta, moreover, shall be struck for more;Another gift, when madam’s brought to bed;Another too, when master’s birthday’s kept,And they initiate him.——All this mammaShall carry off, the bantling her excuse.But is that Geta?

Geta, my worthy friend and countryman,

Came to me yesterday: for some time past

I’ve ow’d him some small balance of account:

This he desir’d I would make up: I have;

And brought it with me: for his master’s son,

I am inform’d, has lately got a wife:

So I suppose this sum is scrap’d together

For a bride-gift. Alack, how hard it is

That he, who is already poor, should still

Throw in his mite to swell the rich man’s heap!

What he scarce, ounce by ounce, from short allowance,

Sorely defrauding his own appetite,

Has spar’d, poor wretch! shall she sweep all at once,

Unheeding with what labor it was got?

Geta, moreover, shall be struck for more;

Another gift, when madam’s brought to bed;

Another too, when master’s birthday’s kept,

And they initiate him.——All this mamma

Shall carry off, the bantling her excuse.

But is that Geta?

EnterGeta.

Geta(at entering.) If a red-hair’d manInquire for me——Davus.No more! he’s here.Geta.Oh, Davus!The very man that I was going after.Davus.Here, take this! (Gives a purse.) ’Tis all told: you’ll find it right;The sum I ow’d you.Geta.Honest, worthy Davus!I thank you for your punctuality.Davus.And well you may, as men and times go now,Things, by my troth, are come to such a pass,If a man pays you what he owes, you’re muchBeholden to him.—But, pray, why so sad?Geta.I?—You can scarce imagine in what dread.What danger I am in.Davus.How so?Geta.I’ll tell you,So you will keep it secret.Davus.Away, fool!The man whose faith in money you have tried,D’ye fear to trust with words?—And to what endShould I deceive you?Geta.List, then!Davus.I’m all ear.Geta.D’ye know our old man’s elder brother, Chremes?Davus.Know him? aye, sure.Geta.You do?—And his son Phædria?Davus.As well as I know you.Geta.It so fell out,Both the old men were forc’d to journey forthAt the same season. He to Lemnos, oursInto Cilicia, to an old acquaintanceWho had decoy’d the old curmudgeon thitherBy wheedling letters, almost promisingMountains of gold.Davus.To one that had so muchMore than enough already?Geta.Prithee, peace!Money’s his passion.Davus.Oh, would I had beenA man of fortune, I!Geta.At their departure,The two old gentlemen appointed meA kind of governor to both their sons.Davus.A hard task, Geta!Geta.Troth, I found it so.My angry Genius for my sins ordain’d it.At first I took upon me to oppose:In short, while I was trusty to th’ old man,The young one made my shoulders answer for it.Davus.So I suppose: for what a foolish taskTo kick against the pricks!Geta.I then resolv’dTo give them their own way in every thing.Davus.Aye, then you made your market.Geta.Our young sparkPlay’d no mad pranks at first: but PhædriaGot him immediately a music-girl:Fond of her to distraction! she belong’dTo a most avaricious, sordid pimp;Nor had we aught to give;—th’ old gentlemanHad taken care of that. Naught else remain’d,Except to feed his eyes, to follow her,To lead her out to school, and hand her home.We too, for lack of other business, gaveOur time to Phædria. Opposite the school,Whither she went to take her lessons, stoodA barber’s shop, wherein most commonlyWe waited her return. Hither one dayCame a young man in tears: we were amaz’d,And ask’d the cause. Never (said he, and wept)Did I suppose the weight of povertyA load so sad,soinsupportable,As it appear’d but now.—I saw but now,Not far from hence, a miserable virginLamenting her dead mother. Near the corpseShe sat; nor friend, nor kindred, nor acquaintance,Except one poor old woman, was there nearTo aid the funeral. I pitied her:Her beauty, too, was exquisite.—In short,He mov’d us all: and Antipho at onceCried, “Shall we go and visit her?”—Why, aye,“I think so,” said the other; “let us go!”“Conduct us, if you please.”—We went, arriv’d.And saw her.—Beautiful she was indeed!More justly to be reckon’d so, for sheHad no additions to set off her beauty.Her hair dishevel’d, barefoot, woe-begone,In tears, and miserably clad: that ifThe life and soul of beauty had not dweltWithin her very form, all these togetherMust have extinguish’d it.—The spark, possess’dAlready with the music-girl, just cried,“She’s well enough.”—But our young gentleman——Davus.Fell, I suppose, in love.Geta.In love, indeed.But mark the end! next day, away he goesTo the old woman straight, beseeching herTo let him have the girl.—“Not she, indeed!Nor was it like a gentleman,” she said,“For him to think on’t: She’s a citizen,An honest girl, and born of honest parents:——If he would marry her indeed, by lawHe might dothat; on no account, aught else.”—Our spark, distracted, knew not what to do:At once he long’d to marry her, at onceDreaded his absent father.Davus.Would not he,Had he return’d, have giv’n consent?Geta.To wedA girl of neither family nor fortune?Never.Davus.What then?Geta.What then! There is a parasite,One Phormio, a bold, enterprising fellow,Who—all the Gods confound him!——Davus.What did he?Geta.Gave us the following counsel.—“There’s a lawThat orphan Girls should wed their next of kin,Which law obliges too their next of kinTo marry them.”—I’ll say that you’re her kinsman,And sue a writ against you. I’ll pretendTo be her father’s friend, and bring the causeBefore the judges. Who her father was,Her mother who, and how she’s your relation,All this sham evidence I’ll forge; by whichThe cause will turn entirely in my favor.You shall disprove no tittle of the charge;You shall disprove no title of the charge;So I succeed.—Your father will return;Prosecute me;—what then?—The girl’s our own.”Davus.A pleasant piece of impudence!Geta.It pleas’dOur spark at least: he put it into practice;Came into court; and he was cast; and married.Davus.How say you?Geta.Just as you have heard.Davus.Oh Geta,What will become of you?Geta.I don’t know, faith.But only this I know, what’er chance brings,I’ll patiently endure.Davus.Why, that’s well said,And like a man.Geta.All my dependence isUpon myself.Davus.And that’s the best.Geta.I mightBeg one indeed to intercede for me,Who may plead thus—“Nay, pardon him this once!But if he fails again, I’ve not a wordTo say for him.”—And well if he don’t add,“When I go hence e’en hang him!”Davus.What of him,Gentleman-usher to the music-girl?How goes he on?Geta.So, so!Davus.He has not muchTo give, perhaps.Geta.Just nothing, but mere hope.Davus.His father too, is he return’d?Geta.Not yet.Davus.Nor your old man, when do you look for him?Geta.I don’t know certainly: but I have heardThat there’s a letter from him come to port,Which I am going for.Davus.Would you aught elseWith me, good Geta?Geta.Nothing, but farewell!ExitDavus.Ho, boy! what, nobody at home! (Enter boy.) Take thisAnd give it Dorcium. (Gives the Purse, and Exit.)

Geta(at entering.) If a red-hair’d man

Inquire for me——

Davus.No more! he’s here.

Geta.Oh, Davus!

The very man that I was going after.

Davus.Here, take this! (Gives a purse.) ’Tis all told: you’ll find it right;

The sum I ow’d you.

Geta.Honest, worthy Davus!

I thank you for your punctuality.

Davus.And well you may, as men and times go now,

Things, by my troth, are come to such a pass,

If a man pays you what he owes, you’re much

Beholden to him.—But, pray, why so sad?

Geta.I?—You can scarce imagine in what dread.

What danger I am in.

Davus.How so?

Geta.I’ll tell you,

So you will keep it secret.

Davus.Away, fool!

The man whose faith in money you have tried,

D’ye fear to trust with words?—And to what end

Should I deceive you?

Geta.List, then!

Davus.I’m all ear.

Geta.D’ye know our old man’s elder brother, Chremes?

Davus.Know him? aye, sure.

Geta.You do?—And his son Phædria?

Davus.As well as I know you.

Geta.It so fell out,

Both the old men were forc’d to journey forth

At the same season. He to Lemnos, ours

Into Cilicia, to an old acquaintance

Who had decoy’d the old curmudgeon thither

By wheedling letters, almost promising

Mountains of gold.

Davus.To one that had so much

More than enough already?

Geta.Prithee, peace!

Money’s his passion.

Davus.Oh, would I had been

A man of fortune, I!

Geta.At their departure,

The two old gentlemen appointed me

A kind of governor to both their sons.

Davus.A hard task, Geta!

Geta.Troth, I found it so.

My angry Genius for my sins ordain’d it.

At first I took upon me to oppose:

In short, while I was trusty to th’ old man,

The young one made my shoulders answer for it.

Davus.So I suppose: for what a foolish task

To kick against the pricks!

Geta.I then resolv’d

To give them their own way in every thing.

Davus.Aye, then you made your market.

Geta.Our young spark

Play’d no mad pranks at first: but Phædria

Got him immediately a music-girl:

Fond of her to distraction! she belong’d

To a most avaricious, sordid pimp;

Nor had we aught to give;—th’ old gentleman

Had taken care of that. Naught else remain’d,

Except to feed his eyes, to follow her,

To lead her out to school, and hand her home.

We too, for lack of other business, gave

Our time to Phædria. Opposite the school,

Whither she went to take her lessons, stood

A barber’s shop, wherein most commonly

We waited her return. Hither one day

Came a young man in tears: we were amaz’d,

And ask’d the cause. Never (said he, and wept)

Did I suppose the weight of poverty

A load so sad,soinsupportable,

As it appear’d but now.—I saw but now,

Not far from hence, a miserable virgin

Lamenting her dead mother. Near the corpse

She sat; nor friend, nor kindred, nor acquaintance,

Except one poor old woman, was there near

To aid the funeral. I pitied her:

Her beauty, too, was exquisite.—In short,

He mov’d us all: and Antipho at once

Cried, “Shall we go and visit her?”—Why, aye,

“I think so,” said the other; “let us go!”

“Conduct us, if you please.”—We went, arriv’d.

And saw her.—Beautiful she was indeed!

More justly to be reckon’d so, for she

Had no additions to set off her beauty.

Her hair dishevel’d, barefoot, woe-begone,

In tears, and miserably clad: that if

The life and soul of beauty had not dwelt

Within her very form, all these together

Must have extinguish’d it.—The spark, possess’d

Already with the music-girl, just cried,

“She’s well enough.”—But our young gentleman——

Davus.Fell, I suppose, in love.

Geta.In love, indeed.

But mark the end! next day, away he goes

To the old woman straight, beseeching her

To let him have the girl.—“Not she, indeed!

Nor was it like a gentleman,” she said,

“For him to think on’t: She’s a citizen,

An honest girl, and born of honest parents:——

If he would marry her indeed, by law

He might dothat; on no account, aught else.”

—Our spark, distracted, knew not what to do:

At once he long’d to marry her, at once

Dreaded his absent father.

Davus.Would not he,

Had he return’d, have giv’n consent?

Geta.To wed

A girl of neither family nor fortune?

Never.

Davus.What then?

Geta.What then! There is a parasite,

One Phormio, a bold, enterprising fellow,

Who—all the Gods confound him!——

Davus.What did he?

Geta.Gave us the following counsel.—“There’s a lawThat orphan Girls should wed their next of kin,Which law obliges too their next of kinTo marry them.”—I’ll say that you’re her kinsman,And sue a writ against you. I’ll pretendTo be her father’s friend, and bring the causeBefore the judges. Who her father was,Her mother who, and how she’s your relation,All this sham evidence I’ll forge; by whichThe cause will turn entirely in my favor.You shall disprove no tittle of the charge;You shall disprove no title of the charge;So I succeed.—Your father will return;Prosecute me;—what then?—The girl’s our own.”Davus.A pleasant piece of impudence!

Geta.Gave us the following counsel.—“There’s a law

That orphan Girls should wed their next of kin,

Which law obliges too their next of kin

To marry them.”—I’ll say that you’re her kinsman,

And sue a writ against you. I’ll pretend

To be her father’s friend, and bring the cause

Before the judges. Who her father was,

Her mother who, and how she’s your relation,

All this sham evidence I’ll forge; by which

The cause will turn entirely in my favor.

You shall disprove no tittle of the charge;

You shall disprove no title of the charge;

So I succeed.—Your father will return;

Prosecute me;—what then?—The girl’s our own.”

Davus.A pleasant piece of impudence!

Geta.It pleas’d

Our spark at least: he put it into practice;

Came into court; and he was cast; and married.

Davus.How say you?

Geta.Just as you have heard.

Davus.Oh Geta,

What will become of you?

Geta.I don’t know, faith.

But only this I know, what’er chance brings,

I’ll patiently endure.

Davus.Why, that’s well said,

And like a man.

Geta.All my dependence is

Upon myself.

Davus.And that’s the best.

Geta.I might

Beg one indeed to intercede for me,

Who may plead thus—“Nay, pardon him this once!

But if he fails again, I’ve not a word

To say for him.”—And well if he don’t add,

“When I go hence e’en hang him!”

Davus.What of him,

Gentleman-usher to the music-girl?

How goes he on?

Geta.So, so!

Davus.He has not much

To give, perhaps.

Geta.Just nothing, but mere hope.

Davus.His father too, is he return’d?

Geta.Not yet.

Davus.Nor your old man, when do you look for him?

Geta.I don’t know certainly: but I have heard

That there’s a letter from him come to port,

Which I am going for.

Davus.Would you aught else

With me, good Geta?

Geta.Nothing, but farewell!

ExitDavus.

Ho, boy! what, nobody at home! (Enter boy.) Take this

And give it Dorcium. (Gives the Purse, and Exit.)

Antipho,Phædria.

Ant.Is it come to this?My father, Phædria!—my best friend!—That IShould tremble, when I think of his return!When, had I not been inconsiderate,I, as ’tis meet, might have expected him.Phæd.What now?Ant.Is that a question? and from you?Who know the atrocious fault I have committed?Oh, that it ne’er had enter’d Phormio’s mindTo give such counsel! nor to urge me on,In the extravagance of blind desire,To this rash act, the source of my misfortunes!I should not have possess’d her: that indeedHad made me wretched some few days.—But thenThis constant anguish had not torn my mind.——Phæd.I hear you.Ant.—While each moment I expectHis coming to divorce me.Phæd.Other men,For lack of what they love, are miserable;Abundance is your grievance. You’re too richA lover, Antipho! For your conditionIs to be wish’d and pray’d for. Now, by Heaven,Might I, so long as you have done, enjoyMy love, it were bought cheaply with my life.How hard my lot, unsatisfied, unbless’d!How happy yours, in full possession!—OneOf lib’ral birth, ingenuous disposition,And honest fame, without expense, you’ve got:The wife, whom you desir’d!—in all things bless’d,But want the disposition to believe so.Had you, like me, a scoundrel pimp to deal with,Then you’d perceive—But sure ’tis in our natureNever to be contented.Ant.Now to me,Phædria, ’tis you appear the happy man.Still quite at large, free to consider still,To keep, pursue, or quit her: I, alas!Have so entangled and perplex’d myself,That I can neither keep nor let her go.—What now? isn’t that our Geta, whom I seeRunning this way?—’Tis he himself— Ah me,How do I fear what news he brings!

Ant.Is it come to this?

My father, Phædria!—my best friend!—That I

Should tremble, when I think of his return!

When, had I not been inconsiderate,

I, as ’tis meet, might have expected him.

Phæd.What now?

Ant.Is that a question? and from you?

Who know the atrocious fault I have committed?

Oh, that it ne’er had enter’d Phormio’s mind

To give such counsel! nor to urge me on,

In the extravagance of blind desire,

To this rash act, the source of my misfortunes!

I should not have possess’d her: that indeed

Had made me wretched some few days.—But then

This constant anguish had not torn my mind.——

Phæd.I hear you.

Ant.—While each moment I expect

His coming to divorce me.

Phæd.Other men,

For lack of what they love, are miserable;

Abundance is your grievance. You’re too rich

A lover, Antipho! For your condition

Is to be wish’d and pray’d for. Now, by Heaven,

Might I, so long as you have done, enjoy

My love, it were bought cheaply with my life.

How hard my lot, unsatisfied, unbless’d!

How happy yours, in full possession!—One

Of lib’ral birth, ingenuous disposition,

And honest fame, without expense, you’ve got:

The wife, whom you desir’d!—in all things bless’d,

But want the disposition to believe so.

Had you, like me, a scoundrel pimp to deal with,

Then you’d perceive—But sure ’tis in our nature

Never to be contented.

Ant.Now to me,

Phædria, ’tis you appear the happy man.

Still quite at large, free to consider still,

To keep, pursue, or quit her: I, alas!

Have so entangled and perplex’d myself,

That I can neither keep nor let her go.

—What now? isn’t that our Geta, whom I see

Running this way?—’Tis he himself— Ah me,

How do I fear what news he brings!

Enter at a distanceGeta, running.

Geta.Confusion!A quick thought, Geta, or you’re quite undone,So many evils take you unprepar’d;Which I know neither how to shun nor howTo extricate myself: for this bold strokeOf ours can’t long be hid.Ant.What’s this confusion?Geta.Then I have scarce a moment’s time to think.My master is arriv’d.Ant.What mischief’s that?Geta.Who, when he shall have heard it, by what artShall I appease his anger?—Shall I speak?’Twill irritate him.—Hold my peace?—enrage him.——Defend myself?—impossible?—Oh, wretch!Now for myself in pain, now AntiphoDistracts my mind.—But him I pity most;For him I fear; ’tis he retains me here:For, were it not for him, I’d soon provideFor my own safety—aye, and be reveng’dOn the old graybeard—carry something off,And show my master a light pair of heels.Ant.What scheme to rob and run away is this?Geta.But where shall I find Antipho? where seek him?Phæd.He mentions you.Ant.I know not what, but doubtThat he’s the messenger of some ill news.Phæd.Have you your wits?Geta.I’ll home: he’s chiefly there.Phæd.Let’s call him back!Ant.Holloa, you! stop!Geta.Heyday!Authority enough, be who you will.Ant.Geta!Geta(turning). The very man I wish’d to meet!Ant.Tell us, what news?—in one word, if you can.Geta.I’ll do it.Ant.Speak!Geta.This moment at the port——Ant.My father?Geta.Even so.Ant.Undone!Phæd.Heyday!Ant.What shall I do?Phæd.What say you? (ToGeta.)Geta.That I’ve seenHis father, Sir,—your uncle.Ant.How shall I,Wretch that I am! oppose this sudden evil!Should I be so unhappy to be tornFrom thee, my Phanium, life’s not worth my care.Geta.Since that’s the case then, Antipho, you oughtTo be the more upon your guard.Ant.Alas!I’m not myself.Geta.But now you should be most so, Antipho.For if your father should discern your fear,He’ll think you conscious of a fault.Phæd.That’s true.Ant.I can not help it, nor seem otherwise.Geta.How would you manage in worse difficulties?Ant.Since I’m not equal to bear this, to thoseI should be more unequal.Geta.This is nothing.Pooh, Phædria, let him go! why waste our time?I will be gone. (Going.)Phæd.And I. (Going.)Ant.Nay, prithee, stay!What if I should dissemble?—Will that do?Endeavoring to assume another air.Geta.Ridiculous!Ant.Nay, look at me! will thatSuffice?Geta.Not it.Ant.Or this?Geta.Almost.Ant.Or this?Geta.Aye! now you’ve hit it. Do but stick to that;Answer him boldly; give him hit for dash,Nor let him bear you down with angry words.Ant.I understand you.Geta.“Forc’d”—“against your will”——“By law”—“by sentence of the court”—d’ye take me?—But what old gentleman is that I seeTurning the corner of the street?Ant.’Tis he.I dare not face him. (Going.)At t’other end o’ th’ street?Ant.’Tis he himself.I dare not face him. (Going.)Geta.Ah! what is’t you do?Where d’ye run, Antipho! stay, stay, I say.Ant.I know myself and my offense too well:To you, then, I commend my life and love.Exit.

Geta.Confusion!

A quick thought, Geta, or you’re quite undone,

So many evils take you unprepar’d;

Which I know neither how to shun nor how

To extricate myself: for this bold stroke

Of ours can’t long be hid.

Ant.What’s this confusion?

Geta.Then I have scarce a moment’s time to think.

My master is arriv’d.

Ant.What mischief’s that?

Geta.Who, when he shall have heard it, by what art

Shall I appease his anger?—Shall I speak?

’Twill irritate him.—Hold my peace?—enrage him.——

Defend myself?—impossible?—Oh, wretch!

Now for myself in pain, now Antipho

Distracts my mind.—But him I pity most;

For him I fear; ’tis he retains me here:

For, were it not for him, I’d soon provide

For my own safety—aye, and be reveng’d

On the old graybeard—carry something off,

And show my master a light pair of heels.

Ant.What scheme to rob and run away is this?

Geta.But where shall I find Antipho? where seek him?

Phæd.He mentions you.

Ant.I know not what, but doubt

That he’s the messenger of some ill news.

Phæd.Have you your wits?

Geta.I’ll home: he’s chiefly there.

Phæd.Let’s call him back!

Ant.Holloa, you! stop!

Geta.Heyday!

Authority enough, be who you will.

Ant.Geta!

Geta(turning). The very man I wish’d to meet!

Ant.Tell us, what news?—in one word, if you can.

Geta.I’ll do it.

Ant.Speak!

Geta.This moment at the port——

Ant.My father?

Geta.Even so.

Ant.Undone!

Phæd.Heyday!

Ant.What shall I do?

Phæd.What say you? (ToGeta.)

Geta.That I’ve seen

His father, Sir,—your uncle.

Ant.How shall I,

Wretch that I am! oppose this sudden evil!

Should I be so unhappy to be torn

From thee, my Phanium, life’s not worth my care.

Geta.Since that’s the case then, Antipho, you ought

To be the more upon your guard.

Ant.Alas!

I’m not myself.

Geta.But now you should be most so, Antipho.

For if your father should discern your fear,

He’ll think you conscious of a fault.

Phæd.That’s true.

Ant.I can not help it, nor seem otherwise.

Geta.How would you manage in worse difficulties?

Ant.Since I’m not equal to bear this, to those

I should be more unequal.

Geta.This is nothing.

Pooh, Phædria, let him go! why waste our time?

I will be gone. (Going.)

Phæd.And I. (Going.)

Ant.Nay, prithee, stay!

What if I should dissemble?—Will that do?

Endeavoring to assume another air.

Geta.Ridiculous!

Ant.Nay, look at me! will that

Suffice?

Geta.Not it.

Ant.Or this?

Geta.Almost.

Ant.Or this?

Geta.Aye! now you’ve hit it. Do but stick to that;

Answer him boldly; give him hit for dash,

Nor let him bear you down with angry words.

Ant.I understand you.Geta.“Forc’d”—“against your will”——“By law”—“by sentence of the court”—d’ye take me?—But what old gentleman is that I seeTurning the corner of the street?Ant.’Tis he.I dare not face him. (Going.)At t’other end o’ th’ street?Ant.’Tis he himself.I dare not face him. (Going.)Geta.Ah! what is’t you do?Where d’ye run, Antipho! stay, stay, I say.Ant.I know myself and my offense too well:To you, then, I commend my life and love.

Ant.I understand you.

Geta.“Forc’d”—“against your will”——

“By law”—“by sentence of the court”—d’ye take me?

—But what old gentleman is that I see

Turning the corner of the street?Ant.’Tis he.I dare not face him. (Going.)

Turning the corner of the street?

Ant.’Tis he.

I dare not face him. (Going.)

At t’other end o’ th’ street?

Ant.’Tis he himself.

I dare not face him. (Going.)

Geta.Ah! what is’t you do?

Where d’ye run, Antipho! stay, stay, I say.

Ant.I know myself and my offense too well:

To you, then, I commend my life and love.

Exit.

ManentPhædriaandGeta.

Phæd.Geta, what now?Geta.You shall be roundly chid;I soundly drubb’d; or I am much deceiv’d.—But what e’en now we counsel’d Antipho,It now behooves ourselves to practice, Phædria.Phæd.Talk not of what behooves, but say at onceWhat you would have me do.Geta.Do you rememberThe plea whereon you both agreed to rest,At your first vent’ring on this enterprise?“That Phormio’s suit was just, sure, equitable,Not to be controverted.”——Phæd.I remember.Geta.Now then that plea! or, if it’s possible,One better or more plausible.Phæd.I’ll do’t.Geta.Do you attack him first! I’ll lie in ambush,To reinforce you, if you give ground.Phæd.Well. (They retire.)

Phæd.Geta, what now?

Geta.You shall be roundly chid;

I soundly drubb’d; or I am much deceiv’d.

—But what e’en now we counsel’d Antipho,

It now behooves ourselves to practice, Phædria.

Phæd.Talk not of what behooves, but say at once

What you would have me do.

Geta.Do you remember

The plea whereon you both agreed to rest,

At your first vent’ring on this enterprise?

“That Phormio’s suit was just, sure, equitable,

Not to be controverted.”——

Phæd.I remember.

Geta.Now then that plea! or, if it’s possible,

One better or more plausible.

Phæd.I’ll do’t.

Geta.Do you attack him first! I’ll lie in ambush,

To reinforce you, if you give ground.

Phæd.Well. (They retire.)

EnterDemiphoat another part of the stage.

Dem.How’s this? a wife! what, Antipho! and ne’erAsk my consent?—nor my authority——Or, grant we pass authority, not dreadMy wrath at least?—To have no sense of shame?—Oh, impudence!—Oh, Geta, rare adviser!Geta.Geta at last.Dem.What they will say to me,Or what excuse they will devise, I wonder.Geta.Oh, we have settled that already: thinkOf something else.Dem.Will he say this to me,—“Against my will I did it”—“Forc’d by law”———I hear you: I confess it.Geta.Very well.Dem.But conscious of the fraud, without a wordIn answer or defense, to yield the causeTamely to your opponents—did the lawForce you tothattoo?Phæd.That’s home.Geta.Give me leave.I’ll manage it.Dem.I know not what to do:This stroke has come so unawares upon me,Beyond all expectation, past belief.—I’m so enrag’d, I can’t compose my mindTo think upon it.—Wherefore ev’ry man,When his affairs go on most swimmingly,Ev’n then it most behooves to arm himselfAgainst the coming storm: loss, danger, exile,Returning ever let him look to meet;His son in fault, wife dead, or daughter sick——All common accidents, and may have happen’d;That nothing should seem new or strange. But ifAught has fall’n out beyond his hopes, all thatLet him account clear gain.Geta.Oh, Phædria,’Tis wonderful how much a wiser manI am than my old master. My misfortunesI have consider’d well.—At his returnDoom’d to grind ever in the mill, beat, chain’d,Or set to labor in the fields; of theseNothing will happen new. If aught falls outBeyond my hopes, all that I’ll count clear gain.—But why delay t’accost th’ old gentleman,And speak him fair at first? (Phædriagoes forward.)Dem.Methinks I seeMy nephew Phædria.Phæd.My good Uncle, welcome!Dem.Your servant!—But where’s Antipho?Phæd.I’m gladTo see you safe——Dem.Well, well!—But answer me.Phæd.He’s well: hard by.—But have affairs turn’d outAccording to your wishes?Dem.Would they had!Phæd.Why, what’s the matter?Dem.What’s the matter, Phædria?You’ve clapp’d up a fine marriage in my absence.Phæd.What! are you angry with him about that?Geta.Well counterfeited!Dem.Should I not be angry?Let me but set eyes on him, he shall knowThat his offenses have converted meFrom a mild father to a most severe one.Phæd.He has done nothing, Uncle, to offend you.Dem.See, all alike! the whole gang hangs together:Know one, and you know all.Phæd.Nay, ’tis not so.Dem.One does a fault, the other’s hard at handTo bear him out: when t’other slips,he’sready:Each in their turn!Geta.I’ faith th’ old gentlemanHas blunder’d on their humors to a hair.Dem.For, were’t not so, you’d not defend him, Phædria.Dem.If ’twere not so, you’d not defend him, Phædria.Phæd.If, Uncle, Antipho has done a wrong,Or to his interest or reputation,I am content he suffer as he may:But if another, with malicious fraud,Has laid a snare for unexperienced youth,And triumph’d o’er it; can you lay the blameOn us, or on the judges, who oft takeThrough envy from the rich, or from compassionAdd to the poor?Geta.Unless I knew the cause,I should imagine this was truth he spoke.Dem.What judge can know the merits on your side,When you put in no plea; as he has done?Phæd.He has behav’d like an ingenuous youth.When he came into court, he wanted pow’rTo utter what he had prepar’d, so muchHe was abash’d by fear and modesty.Geta.Oh brave!—But why, without more loss of time,Don’t I accost th’ old man! (Going up.) My master, welcome!I am rejoic’d to see you safe return’d.Dem.What! my good master Governor! your slave!The prop! the pillar of our family!To whom, at my departure hence, I gaveMy son in charge.Geta.I’ve heard you for some timeAccuse us all quite undeservedly,And me, of all, most undeservedly.For what could I have done in this affair?A slave the laws will not allow to plead;Nor can he be an evidence.Dem.I grant it.Nay more—the boy was bashful—I allow it.—You but a slave.—But if she had been prov’dEver so plainly a relation, whyNeeded he marry her? and why not ratherGive her, according to the law, a portion,And let her seek some other for a husband?Why did he rather bring a beggar home?Geta.’Twas not the thought, but money that was wanting.Dem.He might have borrow’d it!Geta.Have borrow’d it!Easily said.Dem.If not to be had else,On interest.Geta.Nay, now indeed you’ve hit it!Who would advance him money in your life?Dem.Well, well, it shall not, and it can not be,That I should suffer her to live with himAs wife a single day. There is no cause.—Would I might see that fellow, or could tellWhere he resides!Geta.What, Phormio!Dem.The girl’s Patron.Geta.He shall be with you straight.Dem.Where’s Antipho?Phæd.Abroad.Dem.Go, Phædria; find him, bring him here.Phæd.I’ll go directly.ExitGeta(aside). Aye, to Pamphila.Exit

Dem.How’s this? a wife! what, Antipho! and ne’er

Ask my consent?—nor my authority——

Or, grant we pass authority, not dread

My wrath at least?—To have no sense of shame?

—Oh, impudence!—Oh, Geta, rare adviser!

Geta.Geta at last.

Dem.What they will say to me,

Or what excuse they will devise, I wonder.

Geta.Oh, we have settled that already: think

Of something else.

Dem.Will he say this to me,

—“Against my will I did it”—“Forc’d by law”——

—I hear you: I confess it.

Geta.Very well.

Dem.But conscious of the fraud, without a word

In answer or defense, to yield the cause

Tamely to your opponents—did the law

Force you tothattoo?

Phæd.That’s home.

Geta.Give me leave.

I’ll manage it.

Dem.I know not what to do:

This stroke has come so unawares upon me,

Beyond all expectation, past belief.

—I’m so enrag’d, I can’t compose my mind

To think upon it.—Wherefore ev’ry man,

When his affairs go on most swimmingly,

Ev’n then it most behooves to arm himself

Against the coming storm: loss, danger, exile,

Returning ever let him look to meet;

His son in fault, wife dead, or daughter sick——

All common accidents, and may have happen’d;

That nothing should seem new or strange. But if

Aught has fall’n out beyond his hopes, all that

Let him account clear gain.

Geta.Oh, Phædria,

’Tis wonderful how much a wiser man

I am than my old master. My misfortunes

I have consider’d well.—At his return

Doom’d to grind ever in the mill, beat, chain’d,

Or set to labor in the fields; of these

Nothing will happen new. If aught falls out

Beyond my hopes, all that I’ll count clear gain.

—But why delay t’accost th’ old gentleman,

And speak him fair at first? (Phædriagoes forward.)

Dem.Methinks I see

My nephew Phædria.

Phæd.My good Uncle, welcome!

Dem.Your servant!—But where’s Antipho?

Phæd.I’m glad

To see you safe——

Dem.Well, well!—But answer me.

Phæd.He’s well: hard by.—But have affairs turn’d out

According to your wishes?

Dem.Would they had!

Phæd.Why, what’s the matter?

Dem.What’s the matter, Phædria?

You’ve clapp’d up a fine marriage in my absence.

Phæd.What! are you angry with him about that?

Geta.Well counterfeited!

Dem.Should I not be angry?

Let me but set eyes on him, he shall know

That his offenses have converted me

From a mild father to a most severe one.

Phæd.He has done nothing, Uncle, to offend you.

Dem.See, all alike! the whole gang hangs together:

Know one, and you know all.

Phæd.Nay, ’tis not so.

Dem.One does a fault, the other’s hard at hand

To bear him out: when t’other slips,he’sready:

Each in their turn!

Geta.I’ faith th’ old gentlemanHas blunder’d on their humors to a hair.Dem.For, were’t not so, you’d not defend him, Phædria.Dem.If ’twere not so, you’d not defend him, Phædria.Phæd.If, Uncle, Antipho has done a wrong,Or to his interest or reputation,I am content he suffer as he may:But if another, with malicious fraud,Has laid a snare for unexperienced youth,And triumph’d o’er it; can you lay the blameOn us, or on the judges, who oft takeThrough envy from the rich, or from compassionAdd to the poor?

Geta.I’ faith th’ old gentleman

Has blunder’d on their humors to a hair.

Dem.For, were’t not so, you’d not defend him, Phædria.

Dem.If ’twere not so, you’d not defend him, Phædria.

Phæd.If, Uncle, Antipho has done a wrong,

Or to his interest or reputation,

I am content he suffer as he may:

But if another, with malicious fraud,

Has laid a snare for unexperienced youth,

And triumph’d o’er it; can you lay the blame

On us, or on the judges, who oft take

Through envy from the rich, or from compassion

Add to the poor?

Geta.Unless I knew the cause,

I should imagine this was truth he spoke.

Dem.What judge can know the merits on your side,

When you put in no plea; as he has done?

Phæd.He has behav’d like an ingenuous youth.

When he came into court, he wanted pow’r

To utter what he had prepar’d, so much

He was abash’d by fear and modesty.

Geta.Oh brave!—But why, without more loss of time,

Don’t I accost th’ old man! (Going up.) My master, welcome!

I am rejoic’d to see you safe return’d.

Dem.What! my good master Governor! your slave!

The prop! the pillar of our family!

To whom, at my departure hence, I gave

My son in charge.

Geta.I’ve heard you for some time

Accuse us all quite undeservedly,

And me, of all, most undeservedly.

For what could I have done in this affair?

A slave the laws will not allow to plead;

Nor can he be an evidence.

Dem.I grant it.

Nay more—the boy was bashful—I allow it.

—You but a slave.—But if she had been prov’d

Ever so plainly a relation, why

Needed he marry her? and why not rather

Give her, according to the law, a portion,

And let her seek some other for a husband?

Why did he rather bring a beggar home?

Geta.’Twas not the thought, but money that was wanting.

Dem.He might have borrow’d it!

Geta.Have borrow’d it!

Easily said.

Dem.If not to be had else,

On interest.

Geta.Nay, now indeed you’ve hit it!

Who would advance him money in your life?

Dem.Well, well, it shall not, and it can not be,

That I should suffer her to live with him

As wife a single day. There is no cause.

—Would I might see that fellow, or could tell

Where he resides!

Geta.What, Phormio!

Dem.The girl’s Patron.

Geta.He shall be with you straight.

Dem.Where’s Antipho?

Phæd.Abroad.

Dem.Go, Phædria; find him, bring him here.

Phæd.I’ll go directly.

Exit

Geta(aside). Aye, to Pamphila.

Exit

Demiphoalone.

I’ll home, and thank the Gods for my return:Thence to the Forum, and convene some friends,Who may be present at this interview,That Phormio may not take me unprepar’d.Exit.

I’ll home, and thank the Gods for my return:

Thence to the Forum, and convene some friends,

Who may be present at this interview,

That Phormio may not take me unprepar’d.

Exit.

Phormio,Geta.

Phor.And Antipho, you say, has slunk away,Fearing his father’s presence?Geta.Very true.Phor.Poor Phanium left alone?Geta.’Tis even so.Phor.And the old gentleman enrag’d!Geta.Indeed.Phor.The sum of all then, Phormio, rests on you:On you, and you alone. You’ve bak’d this cake;E’en eat it for your pains. About it then!Geta.I do beseech you.Phor.(to himself.) What if he inquire?——Geta.Our only hope’s in you.Phor.(to himself). I have it!—Then,Suppose he offer to return the girl?——Geta.You urg’d us to it.Phor.(to himself). Aye! it shall be so.Geta.Assist us!Phor.Let him come, old gentleman!’Tis here: it is engender’d: I am arm’dWith all my counsels.Geta.What d’ye mean to do?Phor.What would you have me do, unless contriveThat Phanium may remain, that AntiphoBe freed from blame, and all the old man’s rageTurn’d upon me?Geta.Brave fellow! friend indeed!And yet I often tremble for you, Phormio,Lest all this noble confidence of yoursEnd in the stocks at last.Phor.Ah, ’tis not so.I’m an old stager too, and know my road.How many men d’ye think I’ve bastinadoedAlmost to death? Aliens and citizens?The oft’ner, still the safer.—Tell me then,Didst ever hear of actions for assaultAnd batt’ry brought against me?Geta.How comes that?Phor.Because the net’s not stretch’d to catch the hawk,Or kite, who do us wrong; but laid for thoseWho do us none at all: In them there’s profit,In these mere labor lost. Thus other menIn those mere labor lost. Thus other menMay be in danger who have aught to lose;I, the world knows, have nothing.—You will say,They’ll seize my person.—No, they won’t maintainA fellow of my stomach.—And they’re wise,In my opinion, if for injuriesThey’ll not return the highest benefit.Geta.It is impossible for AntiphoTo give you thanks sufficient.Phor.Rather say,No man sufficiently can thank his patron.You at free cost to come! anointed, bath’d,Easy and gay! while he’s eat up with careAnd charge, to cater for your entertainment!He gnaws his heart, you laugh; eat first, sit first,And see a doubtful banquet plac’d before you!Geta.Doubtful! what phrase is that?Phor.Where you’re in doubt,What you shall rather choose. Delights like theseWhen you but think how sweet, how dear, they are;Him that affords them must you not supposeA very deity?Geta.The old man’s here.Mind what you do! the first attack’s the fiercest:Sustain but that, the rest will be mere play. (They retire.)

Phor.And Antipho, you say, has slunk away,

Fearing his father’s presence?

Geta.Very true.

Phor.Poor Phanium left alone?

Geta.’Tis even so.

Phor.And the old gentleman enrag’d!

Geta.Indeed.

Phor.The sum of all then, Phormio, rests on you:

On you, and you alone. You’ve bak’d this cake;

E’en eat it for your pains. About it then!

Geta.I do beseech you.

Phor.(to himself.) What if he inquire?——

Geta.Our only hope’s in you.

Phor.(to himself). I have it!—Then,

Suppose he offer to return the girl?——

Geta.You urg’d us to it.

Phor.(to himself). Aye! it shall be so.

Geta.Assist us!

Phor.Let him come, old gentleman!

’Tis here: it is engender’d: I am arm’d

With all my counsels.

Geta.What d’ye mean to do?

Phor.What would you have me do, unless contrive

That Phanium may remain, that Antipho

Be freed from blame, and all the old man’s rage

Turn’d upon me?

Geta.Brave fellow! friend indeed!

And yet I often tremble for you, Phormio,

Lest all this noble confidence of yours

End in the stocks at last.

Phor.Ah, ’tis not so.

I’m an old stager too, and know my road.

How many men d’ye think I’ve bastinadoed

Almost to death? Aliens and citizens?

The oft’ner, still the safer.—Tell me then,

Didst ever hear of actions for assault

And batt’ry brought against me?

Geta.How comes that?Phor.Because the net’s not stretch’d to catch the hawk,Or kite, who do us wrong; but laid for thoseWho do us none at all: In them there’s profit,In these mere labor lost. Thus other menIn those mere labor lost. Thus other menMay be in danger who have aught to lose;I, the world knows, have nothing.—You will say,They’ll seize my person.—No, they won’t maintainA fellow of my stomach.—And they’re wise,In my opinion, if for injuriesThey’ll not return the highest benefit.Geta.It is impossible for AntiphoTo give you thanks sufficient.

Geta.How comes that?

Phor.Because the net’s not stretch’d to catch the hawk,

Or kite, who do us wrong; but laid for those

Who do us none at all: In them there’s profit,

In these mere labor lost. Thus other men

In those mere labor lost. Thus other men

May be in danger who have aught to lose;

I, the world knows, have nothing.—You will say,

They’ll seize my person.—No, they won’t maintain

A fellow of my stomach.—And they’re wise,

In my opinion, if for injuries

They’ll not return the highest benefit.

Geta.It is impossible for Antipho

To give you thanks sufficient.

Phor.Rather say,

No man sufficiently can thank his patron.

You at free cost to come! anointed, bath’d,

Easy and gay! while he’s eat up with care

And charge, to cater for your entertainment!

He gnaws his heart, you laugh; eat first, sit first,

And see a doubtful banquet plac’d before you!

Geta.Doubtful! what phrase is that?

Phor.Where you’re in doubt,

What you shall rather choose. Delights like these

When you but think how sweet, how dear, they are;

Him that affords them must you not suppose

A very deity?

Geta.The old man’s here.

Mind what you do! the first attack’s the fiercest:

Sustain but that, the rest will be mere play. (They retire.)

Enter at a distanceDemipho—Hegio,Cratinus,Crito, following.

Dem.Was ever man so grossly treated, think ye?—This way, Sirs, I beseech you.Geta.He’s enrag’d!Phor.Hist! mind your cue: I’ll work him.—(Coming forward, and speaking loud.) Oh, ye Gods!Does he deny that Phanium’s his relation?What, Demipho! does Demipho denyThat Phanium is his kinswoman?Geta.He does.Phor.And who her father was, he does not know?Geta.No.Dem.(to the Lawyers). Here’s the very fellow, I believe,Of whom I have been speaking.—Follow me!Phor.(aloud). And that he does not know who Stilpho was?Geta.No.Phor.Ah! because, poor thing, she’s left in want,Her father is unknown, and she despis’d.What will not avarice do?Geta.If you insinuateMy master’s avaricious, woe be to you!Dem.(behind). Oh impudence! he dares accuse me first.Phor.As to the youth, I can not take offense,If he had not much knowledge of him; since,Now in the vale of years, in want, his workHis livelihood, he nearly altogetherLiv’d in the country: where he held a farmUnder my father. I have often heardThe poor old man complain that this his kinsmanNeglected him.—But what a man! A manOf most exceeding virtue.Geta.Much at one:Yourself and he you praise so much.Phor.Away!Had I not thought him what I’ve spoken of him,I would not for his daughter’s sake have drawnSo many troubles on our family,Whom this old cuff now treats so scandalously.Geta.What, still abuse my absent master, rascal!Phor.It is no more than he deserves.Geta.How, villain!Dem.Geta! (Calling.)Geta.Rogue, robber, pettifogger! (ToPhormiopretending not to hearDemipho.)Dem.Geta!Phor.Answer. (Apart toGeta.)Geta(turning). Who’s that?—Oh!Dem.Peace!Geta.Behind your backAll day without cessation has this knaveThrown scurvy terms upon you, such as noneBut men like him can merit.Dem.Well! have done.PuttingGetaby, then addressingPhormio.Young man! permit me first to ask one question.And, if you please, vouchsafe to answer me.—Who was this friend of yours? Explain! and howMight he pretend that I was his relation?Phor.So! you fish for’t, as if you did not know. (Sneeringly.)Dem.Know! I!Phor.Aye; you.Dem.Not I: You that maintainI ought, instruct me how to recollect.Phor.What! not acquainted with your cousin?Dem.Plague!Tell me his name.Phor.His name? aye!Dem.Well, why don’t you?Phor.Confusion! I’ve forgot the name. (Apart.)Dem.What say you?Phor.Geta, if you remember, prompt me. (Apart toGeta.)—Pshaw,I will not tell.—As if you did not know,You’re come to try me. (Loud toDemipho.)Dem.How! try you?Geta.Stilpho. (WhisperingPhormio.)Phor.What is’t to me?—Stilpho.Dem.Whom say you?Phor.Stilpho:Did you know Stilpho, Sir?Dem.I neither know him,Nor ever had I kinsman of that name.Phor.How! are you not asham’d?—But if, poor man,Stilpho had left behind him an estateOf some ten talents——Dem.Out upon you!Phor.ThenYou would have been the first to trace your lineQuite from your grandsire and great grandsire.Dem.True.Had I then come, I’d have explain’d at largeHow she was my relation: so do you!Say, how is she my kinswoman?Geta.Well said!Master, you’re right.—Take heed! (Apart toPhormio.)Phor.I have explain’dAll that most clearly, where I ought, in court.If it were false, why did not then your sonRefute it?Dem.Do you tell me of my son?Whose folly can’t be spoke of as it ought.Phor.But you, who are so wise, go seek the judge:Ask sentence in the self-same cause again:Because you’re lord alone, and have alonePow’r to obtain judgment of the courtTwice in one cause.Dem.Although I have been wrong’d,Yet, rather than engage in litigation,And rather than hear you; as if she wereIndeed related to us, as the lawOrdains, I’ll pay her dowry: take her hence,And with her take five minæ.Phor.Ha! ha! ha!A pleasant gentleman!Dem.Why, what’s the matter?Have I demanded any thing unjust?Sha’n’t I obtain this neither, which is law?Phor.Is’t even so, Sir?—Like a common harlot,When you’ve abus’d her, does the law ordainThat you should pay her hire and whistle her off?Or, lest a citizen through povertyBring shame upon her honor, does it orderThat she be given to her next of kinTo pass her life with him? which you forbid.Dem.Aye; to her next of kin: But why to us;Or wherefore?Phor.Oh! that matter is all settled:Think on’t no more.Dem.Not think on’t! I shall thinkOf nothing else till there’s an end of this.Phor.Words, words!Dem.I’ll make them good.Phor.But, after all,With you I have no business, Demipho!Your son is cast, not you: for at your ageThe coupling-time is over.Dem.Be assur’dThat all I’ve said he says: or I’ll forbidHim and this wife of his my house.Geta.He’s angry. (Apart.)Phor.No; you’ll think better on’t.Dem.Are you resolv’d,Wretch that you are, to thwart me ev’ry way?Phor.He fears, though he dissembles.Geta.Well begun!(Apart.)Phor.Well; but what can’t be cur’d must be endur’d:’Twere well, and like yourself, that we were friends.Dem.I! friend to you? or choose to see or hear you!Phor.Do but agree with her, you’ll have a girlTo comfort your old age. Your years, consider!Dem.Plague on your comfort! take her to yourself!Phor.Ah! don’t be angry!Dem.One word more, I’ve done.See that you fetch away this wench, and soon,Or I shall turn her headlong out o’doors.So much for Phormio!Phor.Offer but to touch herIn any other manner than beseemsA gentlewoman and a citizen,And I shall bring a swinging writ against you.So much for Demipho!—If I am wanted,I am at home, d’ye hear? (Apart toGeta.)Geta.I understand. (Apart.)ExitPhormio.

Dem.Was ever man so grossly treated, think ye?

—This way, Sirs, I beseech you.

Geta.He’s enrag’d!

Phor.Hist! mind your cue: I’ll work him.—(Coming forward, and speaking loud.) Oh, ye Gods!

Does he deny that Phanium’s his relation?

What, Demipho! does Demipho deny

That Phanium is his kinswoman?

Geta.He does.

Phor.And who her father was, he does not know?

Geta.No.

Dem.(to the Lawyers). Here’s the very fellow, I believe,

Of whom I have been speaking.—Follow me!

Phor.(aloud). And that he does not know who Stilpho was?

Geta.No.

Phor.Ah! because, poor thing, she’s left in want,

Her father is unknown, and she despis’d.

What will not avarice do?

Geta.If you insinuate

My master’s avaricious, woe be to you!

Dem.(behind). Oh impudence! he dares accuse me first.

Phor.As to the youth, I can not take offense,

If he had not much knowledge of him; since,

Now in the vale of years, in want, his work

His livelihood, he nearly altogether

Liv’d in the country: where he held a farm

Under my father. I have often heard

The poor old man complain that this his kinsman

Neglected him.—But what a man! A man

Of most exceeding virtue.

Geta.Much at one:

Yourself and he you praise so much.

Phor.Away!

Had I not thought him what I’ve spoken of him,

I would not for his daughter’s sake have drawn

So many troubles on our family,

Whom this old cuff now treats so scandalously.

Geta.What, still abuse my absent master, rascal!

Phor.It is no more than he deserves.

Geta.How, villain!

Dem.Geta! (Calling.)

Geta.Rogue, robber, pettifogger! (ToPhormiopretending not to hearDemipho.)

Dem.Geta!

Phor.Answer. (Apart toGeta.)

Geta(turning). Who’s that?—Oh!

Dem.Peace!

Geta.Behind your back

All day without cessation has this knave

Thrown scurvy terms upon you, such as none

But men like him can merit.

Dem.Well! have done.

PuttingGetaby, then addressingPhormio.

Young man! permit me first to ask one question.

And, if you please, vouchsafe to answer me.

—Who was this friend of yours? Explain! and how

Might he pretend that I was his relation?

Phor.So! you fish for’t, as if you did not know. (Sneeringly.)

Dem.Know! I!

Phor.Aye; you.

Dem.Not I: You that maintain

I ought, instruct me how to recollect.

Phor.What! not acquainted with your cousin?

Dem.Plague!

Tell me his name.

Phor.His name? aye!

Dem.Well, why don’t you?

Phor.Confusion! I’ve forgot the name. (Apart.)

Dem.What say you?

Phor.Geta, if you remember, prompt me. (Apart toGeta.)—Pshaw,

I will not tell.—As if you did not know,

You’re come to try me. (Loud toDemipho.)

Dem.How! try you?

Geta.Stilpho. (WhisperingPhormio.)

Phor.What is’t to me?—Stilpho.

Dem.Whom say you?

Phor.Stilpho:

Did you know Stilpho, Sir?

Dem.I neither know him,

Nor ever had I kinsman of that name.

Phor.How! are you not asham’d?—But if, poor man,

Stilpho had left behind him an estate

Of some ten talents——

Dem.Out upon you!

Phor.Then

You would have been the first to trace your line

Quite from your grandsire and great grandsire.

Dem.True.

Had I then come, I’d have explain’d at large

How she was my relation: so do you!

Say, how is she my kinswoman?

Geta.Well said!

Master, you’re right.—Take heed! (Apart toPhormio.)

Phor.I have explain’d

All that most clearly, where I ought, in court.

If it were false, why did not then your son

Refute it?

Dem.Do you tell me of my son?

Whose folly can’t be spoke of as it ought.

Phor.But you, who are so wise, go seek the judge:

Ask sentence in the self-same cause again:

Because you’re lord alone, and have alone

Pow’r to obtain judgment of the court

Twice in one cause.

Dem.Although I have been wrong’d,

Yet, rather than engage in litigation,

And rather than hear you; as if she were

Indeed related to us, as the law

Ordains, I’ll pay her dowry: take her hence,

And with her take five minæ.

Phor.Ha! ha! ha!

A pleasant gentleman!

Dem.Why, what’s the matter?

Have I demanded any thing unjust?

Sha’n’t I obtain this neither, which is law?

Phor.Is’t even so, Sir?—Like a common harlot,

When you’ve abus’d her, does the law ordain

That you should pay her hire and whistle her off?

Or, lest a citizen through poverty

Bring shame upon her honor, does it order

That she be given to her next of kin

To pass her life with him? which you forbid.

Dem.Aye; to her next of kin: But why to us;

Or wherefore?

Phor.Oh! that matter is all settled:

Think on’t no more.

Dem.Not think on’t! I shall think

Of nothing else till there’s an end of this.

Phor.Words, words!

Dem.I’ll make them good.

Phor.But, after all,

With you I have no business, Demipho!

Your son is cast, not you: for at your age

The coupling-time is over.

Dem.Be assur’d

That all I’ve said he says: or I’ll forbid

Him and this wife of his my house.

Geta.He’s angry. (Apart.)

Phor.No; you’ll think better on’t.

Dem.Are you resolv’d,

Wretch that you are, to thwart me ev’ry way?

Phor.He fears, though he dissembles.

Geta.Well begun!

Phor.Well; but what can’t be cur’d must be endur’d:

’Twere well, and like yourself, that we were friends.

Dem.I! friend to you? or choose to see or hear you!

Phor.Do but agree with her, you’ll have a girl

To comfort your old age. Your years, consider!

Dem.Plague on your comfort! take her to yourself!

Phor.Ah! don’t be angry!

Dem.One word more, I’ve done.

See that you fetch away this wench, and soon,

Or I shall turn her headlong out o’doors.

So much for Phormio!

Phor.Offer but to touch her

In any other manner than beseems

A gentlewoman and a citizen,

And I shall bring a swinging writ against you.

So much for Demipho!—If I am wanted,

I am at home, d’ye hear? (Apart toGeta.)

Geta.I understand. (Apart.)

ExitPhormio.

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