TERENCE's COMEDIES: Made ENGLISH.  
WITH HIS LIFE; AND SOME REMARKS at the End.  
By Several HANDS.  
The Second Edition Corrected.  
LONDON, Printed for Abel Swalle at the Unicorn in Pater-noster-Row. 1699.   

THE PREFACE.  
SInce long Prefaces are lately much in Fashion upon this and the like Occasions, why may not we be allowed some tolerable Liberty in this kind; provided we keep close to our Author, and our own Translation of him. As for our Author, wherever Learning, Wit and Judgement have flourished, this Poet has always had an extraordinary Repuration. To mention all his Excellencies and Perfections were a Task too difficult for us, and perhaps for the greatest Critics alive; so very few there are that perfectly understand all of 'em; yet we shall venture at some of the most Remarkable.  
To begin with him in general, he was certainly the most Exact, the most Elaborate, and withal the most Natural of all Dramatic Poets; His Style so neat and pure, his Characters so true and perfect, his Plots so regular and probable, and ●● most every thing so absolutely just and agreeable, that he may well seem to merit that Praise which several have given him, That he was the most correct Author in the World. To compare him with Plautus the other great Latin Comedian, we may observe that Plautus had mere Wit and Spirit, but Terence more Sense and Judgement; the former's Style was rich and glaring, the latter's more close and even: Plautus had the most dazzling outside and the most lively Colours, but Terence drew the finest Figures and Postures, and had the best Design; the one pleased the Vulgar, but our Author the Better sort of People, the former would usually set his Spectators into a loud Laughter, but the latter steal 'em into a sweet Smile, that should continue from the beginning to the end of the Representation; in short, Plautus was more lively and vigorous, and so fit for Action; and Terence more grave and serious, and so fit for Reading. Tho Plautus' Beauties were very extraordinary, yet he had his Faults and Indecorums very frequent, but Terence's Excellencies (though possibly inferior to some of the others) were more general, better dispersed, and closer continued; and his Faults so inconsiderable, and so very few, that Scaliger said, There were not three to be found thro' out the Six Plays. So that cur Author seems to want nothing to make him absolutely complete, but only that same Vis Comica that Caesar wishes he had, and which Plautus was Master of in such a high degree. We shall determine nothing between 'em, but leave them good Friends as we found 'em.  
This may be sufficient for our Author's Excellencies in general; for his particular ones, we shall begin with his Style, a thing he has been admired for in all Ages, and truly he deserves it; for certainly not one was ever more accurate, natural, and clear in his Expressions than he. But to be a little more particular in this Matter, we shall give you some few of our Author's Excellencies in this kind under three or four different Heads.  
And first, We may observe of his Words, that they are generally nicely chosen, extremely proper and significant; and many of 'em carry so much Life and Force in 'em, that they can hardly be expressed in any other Language without great disadvantage to the Original. To instance in these following. Qui cum ingeniis conflictatur ejusmodi. Ut animus in spe atque in timore usque ante haec attentus fuit. Nisi me lactasses amantem, & falsa spe produceres. Pam. Mi Pater. Si. Quid mi Pater? Quasi tu hujus indigeas Patris. Tandem ego non illa caream, si sit opus, vel totum triduum. Par. Hui? Universum triduum. Quam elegans formarum Spectator siem. Hunc comedendum & deridendum vobis propino.  
We shall next take notice of one or two Instances of the Shortness and Clearness of his Narrations; as that which Tully mentions. Funus interim procedit sequimur, ad Sepulchrum venimus, in ignem posita est, Fletur. Another may be that in Phormio. Persuasum est homini, factum est, ventum est, vincimur, duxit.  
Another remarkable Beauty of his Style appears in his Climaxes; where every Word is Emphatical, heightens the Sense, and adds considerably to what went before. As, Haec verba Mehercule una falsa Lachrymula, quam oculos terendo misere more remarkable yet, one single Scene shall please a whole day together; a Secret which few or no other Poet ever found out.  
And as we have scarce found one Man in the World that equal him in his Characters, so we find but very few that could come up to him in the Management (we mean his Art and Contrivance) of his Plots. We are sensible that many have been so foolish as to count his Plays a bare bundle of Dialogues dressed up in a neat Style, and there all his Excellency to consist, or at least that they are very ordinary and mean; but such senseless Suppositions will soon vanish upon giving an Account of the Nature and Perfection of 'em. He well understood the Rules of the Stage, or rather those of Nature; was perfectly Regular, wonderful exact and careful in ordering each Protafis, or Entrance, Epitasis, or working up, Catastasis, or height, and Catastrophe, or unravelling the Plot; which last he was famous for making it spring necessarily from the Incidents, and neatly and dextrously untying the Knot, whilst others of a grosser make, would either tear, or cut it in pieces. In short (setting aside some few things which we shall mention by and by) Terence may serve for the best and most perfect Model for our Dramatic Poets to imitate, provided they exactly observe the different Customs and Manners of the Roman and English People; and upon the same account we beg leave to be a little more particular in this Matter, which disposed us very much to this Translation.  
The Nature of his Plots was for the most part grave and solid and sometimes possionate a little, resembling our Modern Tragy-Comedies; only the Comical parts were seldom so merry; the Thinness and clearness of 'em somewhat resembling our Modern Tragedies, only more perfect in the latter, and not crowded with too many Incidents. They were all double except the Hecyra, or Mother-in-Law, yet so contrived that one was always an Under. Plot to the other: So that he still kept perfectly to the first great Rule of the Stage, the Unity of Action As for the second great Rule, the Unity of Time (that is for the whole Action to be performed in the compass of a day) he was as exact in that as possible, for the longest Action of any of his Plays reaches not Eleven Hours. He was no less careful in the third Rule, The Unity of Place, for it's plain be never shifts his Scene in any one of his Plays, but keeps constantly to the same place from the beginning to the end. Then for the Continuance in the Actions, he never fails in any one place, but every Instrument is perpetually at work in carrying on their several Designs, and in them the design of the whole; so that the stage never grows cold till all is finished: And to do this the more handsomely and dextrously, he scarce ever brings an Actor upon the Stage, but you presently know his Name and Quality, what part of the Intrigue he is to promote, why he came there, from whence he came, why just at that time, why he goes off, where he is a going, and also what he is or aught to be doing or contriving all the time he is away. His Scenes are always unbroken, so that the Stage is never perfectly clear but between the Acts; but are continually joined by one of the four Unions. Which according to Mon. Hedelin are these; Presence, Seeking, Noise, or Time; and when the Action ceaseth that is, upon the Stage) and the Stage is cleared, an Act is then finished. Then for Incidents, and the due Preparation of them, Terence was admirable: And the true and exact Management of these is one of the most difficult parts of Dramatic Poetry. He contrives every thing in such a manner so as to fall out most probably and naturally, and when they are over they seem almost necessary; yet by his excellent Skill he so cunningly conceals the Events of things from his Audience, till due time that they can never foresee 'em; by this means they are so amused with the Actors Designs, that the Poet's is unknown to them, till at last, being all along in the dark, they are surprised most agreeably by some. thing they never looked for: And this is the most taking and the most delightful part of a Play. We might insist much more largely upon each of these Particulars: and upon several others, but at present we shall content ourselves with saying that these Plots are all so very clear, and natural, that they might very well go for a Representation of a thing that had really happened; and not the mere Invention of the Poet.  
There are two or three remarkable Objections against our Author, which we cannot but take notice of. First, it's said, That he has not kept to the Unity of Time in his Heautontimoreumenos, or Self-Tormenter; which contains the space of two days. Then, between the second and third Acts, there's an absolute failure of the Continuance of the Action. These are generally believed by several Men, and such as are famous too; and some to vindicate Terence the better, have added another Mistake, that the Play was always acted two several times, the two first Acts one, and the three last another. But it is plain from all Circumstances, that the Action began very late in the Evening, and ended betimes in the Morning (of which we have said something in our Remarks at the end) so that the whole could not contain about Eleven hours; but as for that of the Cessation of the Action, it's answered two ways, either by the necessity of Sleep at that Interval, and consequently no Cessation, or (which is more probable) by the Persons being busy at the Treat at Chremess House, that being a necessary part of the main Action The two following are Mr. Dryden's Exceptions; where first he lays an Error to our Authors Charge in matter of Time. In the Eunuch (say he) when Laches enters Thais' House by mistake, between his Exit and the Entrance of Pythias, who comes to give ample Relation of the Disorder he has raised within, Parmeno, who is left upon the Stage, has not above five Lines to speak. In answer to this, Pythias makes no such amp Relation, but rather tells him what Disorders such a foolish Act of his was like to raise; and in truth it is not probable she should stay above five or six Lines speaking, since after she saw her Cheat had taken, she could not keep her Countenance within Doors, and was so eager to revenge herself by laughing at the Fool without; besides here is an excellent Artifice of the Poets, for had she tarried longer, Parmeno might have been gone, and her Mirth qualified when she saw the good Fortune Chaerea had met withal. His other Exception is, that our Author's Scenes are several times broken. He instances in the same Play, That Antipho enters singly in the midst of the third Act, after Chremes and Pythias were gone off. As for this, it is to be considered that Scenes are united by Time as well as Presence; and this is a perfect Union of Time, apparent to all who understand the Art of the Stage. A little farther he says, That Dorias gins the fourth Act alone;— She quits the Stage, and Phedria enters next. Here Dorias does not quit the Stage till three Scenes after, as appears by Pythias, bidding her carry in such things as she had brought with her from the Captain's Entertainment; but if she did, there would be an Union of Time nevertheless, as there is in all other places, where the Scenes seem broken. Some make this Objection; that in the beginning of many Scenes, two Actors enter upon the Stage, and talk to themselves a considerable time before they see or know one another; Which (they say) is neither probable nor natural. Those that object this don't consider the great Difference between our little scanty Stage, and the large magnificent Roman Theatres. Their Stage was sixty Yards wide in the Front, their Scenes so many Streets meeting together, with all By Lanes, Rows and Alleys; so two Actors coming down two different Streets or Lanes, cou'dned be seen by each other, tho' the Spectators might see both, and sometimes if they did see each other they couldn't well distinguish Faces at sixty Yards distance. Besides upon several accounts it might well be supposed when an Actor enters upon the Stage out of some House, he might take a turn or two under the Porticoes, Cloisters, or the like (that were usual at that time) about his Door, and take no notice of an Actors being on the other side of the Stage.  
But since we propose our Master as the best Model for Dramatic Poets to follow, we ought in Justice to mention such things wherein he was any ways faulty, or at least where he ought not to be imitated. The first is, He makes his Actors in some places speak directly, and immediately to the Audience (of which that Monologue of Mysis in the first Act of the first Play is an instance) which is contrary to the rules of Dramatic Poetry, or rather indeed of Nature; and this is the only real Fault that Terence was guilty of as his want of Vis Comica was the only real Defect. His Plots were not always the best for Story, the for Contrivance, and wanted somewhat of Length and Variety, fully and completely to satisfy an Aud●●● Take 'em all together, they were too much 〈◊〉 have always their deserved Effect of surprising; which also gave a mighty Limitation to the Variety of his Characters; a great pity for a Man that had such an admirable Knack of drawing them to the Life. It were also to be wished that his Monologues or Discourses by single Persons were less frequent, and sometimes shorter 100; for though they are all of 'em full of excellent Sense, sound Reasoning, ingenious Deliberations, and served truly to carry on the main Design; yet several parts of 'em, especially all Narrations, would ha' been more natural as well as Artificial, if told by Persons of the Drama to one another. Then his Aparts or Asides (that is when one Actor speaks something which another that is present is supposed not to hear, though the Audience do) are sometimes too long to be perfectly natural. Whether he has not sometimes too much Elevation of Passion, or Borders too nigh upon Tragedy for such inferior Persons, we leave to others. These are the main things to be taken notice of by all that make use of him for a Model, besides all such as belong purely to the various Customs of Countries, and to the difference of Theatres; but those are obvious enough to all.  
But there's still one great Objection against these Plays in general; that is, If Terence's Plays are so good as is pretended, why doesned some Poet or other translate one or more of 'em for the Stage, so save himself the trouble of racking his Brain for new Matter. We own they wou'dned take upon our Stage; but to clear all, we shall give these two Reasons: First, The Difference between the Romans and ourselves in Customs, Humours, Manners and Theatres is such, that it is impossible to adapt their Plays to our Stages. The Roman Plots were often founded upon the exposing of Children, and their unexpected Delivery, of buying of Misses and Musick-Girls; they were chief pleased to see a covetous old Father neatly bubbled by his Slave of a round Sum of Money, to find the young Spark his Son (miserably in want of Cash) join with the Slave in the Intrigue, that he may get somewhat to stop his Mistress' Mouth, whom he keeps unknown to his Father; to see a bragging Coxcomb wheadled and abused by some cunning Parasite; to hear a Glutton to talk of nothing but his Belly, and the like. Our Plots go chief upon variety of Love Intrigues, Ladies Cuckolding their Husband's most dextrously, Gallants danger upon the same account, with their escape either by witty Fetches, or hiding themselves in dark Holes, Closets, Beds, etc. We are all for Humour, Gallantry, Conversation, and Courtship, and should'nt endure the chief Lady in the Play a Mute, or to say very little, as 'twas agreeable to them: Our amorous Sparks love to hear the pretty Rogues prate, snap up their Gallants, and Repartee upon 'em on all sides. We should'nt like to have a Lady married without knowing whether she gives her consent or no, (a Custem among the Romans) but would be for hearing all the Courtship, all the rare and fine things that Lovers can say to each other. The second reason of their not taking upon our Stage is this, though Terence's Plays are for more exact, natutal, regular, and clear than ours, and his Persons speak more like themselves than generally ours do; yet (to speak impartially) our Plays do plainly excel his in some Particulars. 〈…〉 the great Variety of the 〈◊〉 and 〈…〉 our Plots; the Intrigues thicker and finer; the Stories better, longer, and 〈◊〉 curious 〈◊〉 most part than his: And though there's 〈…〉 buddle and precipitation in the generality of 〈◊〉; yet the great variety and number of Incidents. though ill managed 〈◊〉 have several Charms, and be mighty diverting especially to a vulgar Audience, like the Sight of a large City at a distance, where there is little of Regularity or Uniformity to be discerned just by. Next, we do much excel Terence in that which we call Humour, that is in our Comical Characters in which we have shown and exposed the several Humours, Dispositions Natures, Inclinations, Fancies, Irregularities, Maggots, Passions, Whims, Follies Extravagancies, etc. of Men under all sorts of Circumstances, of all sorts of Ranks and Qualities, of all Professions and Trades, and of all Nations and Countries, so admirably, and so lively, that in this no Nation among the Ancients or Moderns were ever comparable to us. Lastly, our Comedies excel his in some Delicacies of Conversation; particularly in the Refinedness of our Raillery and satire, and above 〈◊〉 Repartee. Some of these things (especially when mixed with Humour) have made many an ordinary Plot take and come off well, and without a pretty quantity of some of 'em, our Plays would go downvery heavily.  
Since we are accidentally fallen into the Excellencies of our Comedies, we hope it may be pardonable if we mention also some principal Faults in 'em, which ●●●m to need a Regulation. And first, our Poets seldom or never observe any of the three great Unities of Action; Time and Place, which are great Errors, for what breeds more Confusion than to have five or six main Plots in a Play, when the Audience can never attend to 'em? What more extravagant than to fancy the Actions of Weeks, Months, and Years represented in the Space of three or four Hours? Or what more unnatural than for the Spectators to suppose themselves now in a Street, than a Garden, by and by in a Chamber, immediately in the Fields, then in a Street again, and never move out of their place; Wou'dned one swear there was Conjuration in the Case; that the Theatres were a sort of Fairy Land where all is Enchantment, Juggle and Delusion? Next, our Plays are too often overpowered with Incidents and Under-Plots, and our Stage as much crowded with such Actors, as there's little or no occasion for; especially at one time. Then the Matter, and Discourse of our Plays is very often incoherent and impertinent as to the main Design: nothing being more common than to meet with two or three whole Scenes in a Play, which would have fitted any other part of the Play even as well as that; and perhaps any Play else. Thus some appear to swear out a Scene or two, others to talk Bawdy a little, without any manner of dependence upon the rest of the Action. But besides this (which is another great Error) when the Matter and Discourse do serve to carry on the main Design, commonly Persons are brought on to the Stage without any sort of Art, Probability, Reason or Necessity for their coming there; and when they have no such Business as one that comes to give you a Song or a Jig. They come there to serve the Poets Design a little, then off they go with as little Reason as they came on; and that only to make way for other Actors, who (as they did) come only to tell the Audience something the Poet has a mind to have 'em know; and that's all their business: And truly that's little enough. This we see frequently in the chief Actor of the Play, who comes on and goes off, and the Spectaters all the time stand staring and wondering at they know not what. Another great Fault common to many of our Plays is, that an Actor's Name, Quality, or Business is scarce ever known till a good while after his appearance; which must needs make the Audience at a great Loss, and the Play hard to be understood, forcing 'em to carry Books with 'em to the Play house, to know who comes in, and who goes out.  
The Ancients were guilty of none of these Absurdities, and more especially our Author; and indeed the Non observance of Rules has occasioned the great Miscarriages of many excellent Genius' of ours, particulary that of the immortal Shakespeare. Since these are such apparent Faults and Absurdities, and still our Beauties are so admirable as to cover, and almost to outweigh our Errors (else our Plays were not to be endured) undoubtedly our Dramatic Poets, by the Observance of this Author's Ways and Rules, might out do all the Ancients and Moderns too, both at Tragedy and at Comedy; for no Nation ever had greater Genius' than ours for Dramatic Poetry. These ha' been but little observed as yet, so that all our fine Imitations of Nature may often be called Lucky hits, and more by Accident than by Art. We very much need a Reformation in this Case, and our Plays can never arrive to any great Perfection without it; therefore the nigher they come up to this Standard, the more they will be admired and loved by all Judicious Persons, provided they still keep to those Excellencies before mentioned Besides, these are as easily practicable upon ours as upon the Greek and Roman Theatres; and by a strict Observance of the Unity of Place, the Stage may be made far more handsome and magnificent with less Charge; and by that of the Unity of Action (especially by the help of an Underplot or so) the Story may be made far more fine and clear with less trouble.  
But our Nation by long Custom, and the Success of Irregular Pieces, seems naturally averse to all Rules; and take it very ill to have their Thoughts confined and shackled, and tied to the Observance of such Niceties: Therefore in the first place they tell us, That Poets of all Men in the World are perfectly freely, and by no means ought to confine their Noble Fancies to dull pedantic Rules: For this (say they) is like taking of Bees, cutting off their Wings, and laying such Flowers before 'em to make Honey of as they please. A Poet indeed should be free, and unconfined as Air, as to his Thought, Fancy and Contrivance, but then his Poetica Licentia should'nt transport him to Madness and Extravagancy, making him phrensically transgress the Rules of Reason and Nature, as well as Poetry. These that we mention are not any Man's Arbitary Rules, but pure Nature only Methodised: They never hamper a Poet's Fancy or clip his Wings, but adorn their Thoughts, and regulate their Flights, so as to give 'em a clearer insight into Nature, Probability and Decency, without something of which it is impossible to please. And these are no more a Confinement to a Poet's Fancy, than the true Proportion of Pillars, the Regularity and Uniformity of Windows are to an Architect; or the exact Imitation of Nature to a Painter: As if there could be half so much Beauty in Grotesque and irregular Whims, as in the due Observation of the Rules of Prospect, Shadows and Proportion.  
Another Objection is, That, our Nation will never bear Rules, but are much better pleased with the ways now in practice. 'Tis true several of our most irregular Plays have come off with a great deal of Applaule, but certainly never the more for their Irregularity; but because most of the Audience knew no better, being often dazzled by the Greatness of the Author's Genius, and the Actors Performances; and those that did, were willing topardon the Faults for the sake of some choice Master-stroaks they had; and upon the same account a couple of good Scenes have many times carried off a very indifferent Play: 'Tis plain that want of Use and Knowledge have been the only Cause of these ways seeming so unpracticable; and if the middle sort of Persons were once truly brought to a Sight of the Excellencies of this, and the Deformities of the other way, (as the well reading of these Plays would in a great measure do, being chief designed for them) they would esteem of it far more than now; and certainly they could never pardon those many Indecencies, Improbabilities, Absurdities that are so frequent in our Plays. 'Tis true, there has been a considerable Regulation among many of 'em since the Days of Shakespeare, but not to bring things half to perfection. And thus Regulation has made hope for a further, as the Age will be brought to bear it.  
The last Objection is more particular: They say, That the Unities of Action, Time and Place must needs take off from the great Variety of the Plot, and a fine Story by this means will be quite murdered. 'Tis true, all Stories whatsoever are not fit for a Dramatic Poem; yet there may be an excellent Plot without crowaing together Intrigues (little depending upon one another) of half a dozen couple, suppose, in one Play; without hurrying over the business of three Months in three Hours time, or perhaps without skipping from Gardens to Mountains, from thence to Groves, and then to Town in an Act or two: But our prying curious Sparks can't rest here, but must be for peeping into Chambers, Closets, and Withdrawing-Rooms, ay, and into Beds too (sometimes with the Ladies in 'em) and have all things brought openly upon the Stage. though never so improper, and indecent. But this Objection may yet better be answered by Instances; and first for the Unity of Time, we may mention the Play called, The Adventures of Five Hours, the whole Action lasting no longer (much less a day, the extent allowed for a Dramatic Poem) yet this is one of the pleasantest Stories that ever appeared upon our Stage, and has as much Variety of Plots and Intrigues, without any thing being precipitated, improbable or unnatural as to the main Action; so by this it appears that this Rule is no Spoiler or Murderer of a finer Story. Then for the Unity of Time and Action too, Ben. Johnson's Silent Woman is a remarkable Instance: an excellent Comedy indeed, where the Action is perfectly single, and the utmost extent of the Time exceeds not three Hours and a half, (the shortest we ever find) yet still the Plot, Intrigues, and above all the Incidents are very fine; and no ways unnatural. Lastly, For all three Unities, Mr. Dryden's All for Love (though a Tragedy, and somewhat foreign to our business) is worthy to be taken notice of, that being perfectly Regular according to the Rules of the Stage, the Scenes unbroken, the Incidents exactly and duly prepared, and all things noble and beautiful, just and proportionable. This we reckon one of the best Tragedies of our Nation. Now can any Man justly think that these Plays we new mentioned were ever the worse for that Regularity they had; or indeed have we many better in the Nation for Plot; or many that have better pleased the generality of Persons that these; If so, this sufficiently shows the Truth of what we offered; and withal commends our Master's great Judgement in this Point: Who in our Opinion (besides the Excellency of his Characters) plainly deserves a greater Name for his Plots, than he does for his Language.  
Come we next then to our own Vindication, in which we shall briefly show the Reasons why we did it, and likewise what our Performances have been in this Version.  
The main Reasons why we undertook it were these. First, For the Excellency and Usefulness of this Author in general: And consequently for the benefit (as we shall show by and by) of most sorts of People, but especially for the Service it may do our Dramatic Poets. Next, for the Honour of own Language, into which all good Bocks ought to be Translated, since 'tis now become so Elegant, Sweet and Copious: And indeed nothing refines, or gives Foreigners a greater Opinion of any Language than its number of good Translations; of which the French is a great Instance. Thirdly, Because most of our Neighbours have got it into their Language, particularly the French, who have done it with good Success; and we have no reason for being outdone by any of our Neighbours, since we have a Language we dare set against any in the World. Lastly, Since the Author is so excellent, we undertook it because no other Persons would. 'Tis strange that none of our great Wits would undertake it before, but let us Persons of Obscurity, take their Works out of their Hands; when we can perceive by our liitle Performances that our Language will do it to a very high degree, undoubtedly better than the French.  
The most considerable Objections that have been made against our Translation are these. First, What real Use or Advantage can this Translation be to the Public? As for Schoolboys and Learners, Bernard's and Hool's Translations, the great number of Notes, a Schoolmaster, or their own Industry will well enough teach 'em to construe it. Men of Sense and Learning, they read it wholly for the Latin sake; therefore a Translation is of no use to them. Lastly, they won't fit our Stage; and consequently they are impertinent at best. To these we answer; First, As to Schoolboys and Learners! Bernard's and Hool's Translations are very often false, mostly so obsolete, flat and unpleasant, that a Man can scarce read half a Page without sleeping; the latter is full of Latinisms, and both are often more obscure than the Original. The Notes sometimes don't express the Author; Sense; and often very obscurely: In some things they are too short, in others too long and tedious: And most of them have the slight of running very nimbly over those Places which they are afraid they should stick in. Schoolmasters often want Time, and now then and Judgement and Learning to explain things as they ought; then to leave Boys by themselves to pick out the Sense of such a difficult Author as this, is very inconvenient which, besides the Discouragement sometimes of not being able to do it, will often lead 'em into such Errors and Mistakes, as perhaps they'll never get clear of. So that this will be of great use even ●o Schoolboys and Learners: Beside the great Advantage of teaching 'em, perhaps not the worst English; and something of the Idiom of our Tongue.  
As for the second part of the Objection, That Men of Sense and Learning read it only for the Latin sake; This is or aught to be looked upon as a great Mistake: Since Terence has other and greater Excellencies than his Style, as we have before shown. But however ingenious Persons must needs receive some pleasure in seeing such excellent fine Latin now speak tolerable good English: and likewise in seeing somewhat of the Conversation, Humour and Customs of the old Greeks and Romans put into a modern Dress; and perhaps not quite out of the Fashion. Besides, since many of these do sometimes upon an occasion make use of Notes, 'twill be of equal use (in that respect) to them as to all Learners. And that they have often need of such, will appear from the several difficult places (especially as to the Plot) and some obscure dubious Passages in this Author, which the utmost Skill in the Latin Tongue will not teach to explain; since there is as great a necessity for the understanding of the Roman Customs and Theatres in this Case, and of the Art of the Stage, as of the Latin Tongue. How extraordinary useful a Translation can be in perfectly clearing an Author, Roscommon's Translation of Horace's Art of Poetry is an apparent Instance; which shows the Sense, Meaning, Design, etc. of Horace better and easier than all the Paraphrases and Notes in the World.  
Thirdly, Tho our Translation will never fit our Stage, yet it may be of considerable use to some of the Dramatic Poets; which we had some respect to when we did it; they will serve 'em (as was said before) for Models; and though many of our Poets do very well understand the Original, yet 'tis plain that some of 'em do not understand it overmuch. But however, it may not be wholly useless to those that do, and more proper for their business, being ready explained to their hands: And upon some accounts to be read with less trouble than the Original: For that is in many places very-obscure by reason of corrupted Copies, wrong Points, false Division of whole Acts as well as Scenes, and the like: Further, if these Plays come to be frequently read by the more ordinary sort of People, they will by little and little grow more in love with, and more clearly see the true Excellencies of these Rules, and these lively Imitations of Nature, which will be the greatest Encouragement our Poets can have to follow 'em. And besides, the common People by these Plays may plainly perceive that Obscenities, and Debaucheries are no ways necessary to make a good Comedy; and the Poets themselves will be the more ready to blush when they see Heathens so plainly out-ao us Christians in their Morals; for their principal Vices in their Plays were chief from the Ignorance of the Times, but we have no such pretence. This alone might ha' been a sufficient reason for our undertaking this Design.  
But to come now to what we have done; 'tis not to be expected we should wholly reach the Air of the Original; that being so peculiar, and the Language so different; We have imitated our Author as well and as nigh as the English Tongue as our small Abilities would permit; each of us joining and consulting about every Line, not only for the doing of it better, but also for the making of it all of a piece. We followed not one Latin Copy by itself, because of the great disagreements among 'em, but have taken any that seemed truest. We lookld over all the Notes, sometimes they would help us a little, and often not; some hints we had from the French, but not very many; besides we had considerable helps from other Persons far above ourselves, for whose Care and Pains we shall ever acknowledge our Gratitude. A mere Verbal Translation is not to be expected, that would sound so horribly, and be more obscure than the Original; but we have been faithful Observers of his Sense, and even of his Words too, not slipping any of consequence without something to answer it; nay further, where two Words seem to be much the same, and perhaps not intended to be very different by the Author, we were commonly so nice as to do them too; such as Segnitia and Socordia, Scire and Noscere, and the like, which is more exact than most, if not all, our modern Versions. We couldn't have kept closer (especially in this Author, which several ingenious Persons told us, Is the hardest in the World to translate) without too much treading upon the Author's Heels, and destroying our Design of giving it an easy, Comic Style, most agreeable to our present Times. If we have been guilty of any Fault of this nature, it seems to be that of keeping too close.  
But still to be more particular; we did all we could to prevent any of the Meaning and Grace of the best Words to be lost; so that we were often forced to search and study some time for those most proper, and oftentimes to express 'em by two, and some times by a Circumlocution: Which Madam Dacier herself, as accurate as she is accounted, has often neglected; and thereby has wholly lost the Force and Beauty of many Emphatical Words. Terence had some words taken in a great many several Senses, such as Contumelia and Injuria, Odiosus, Tristis, etc. these we have been very careful about; but where he plays upon words (though never so prettily) he ought not in some places to be imitated at all, because the Fineness is more lost that way, than the other; yet we tried at several when they were Natural and tolerable in English. As for his Allusions and the like, many of them perhaps are quite lost to us. However they are commonly lost in our Language. On such places (as well as some others) we made Remarks or Notes at the latter end; some of which we are obliged to the French Lady for; these serving to show our Author's fine Strokes, as well as to vindicate our Translation. For his Sense and Meaning, we have taken more than ordinary care about, and weighed all Circumstances before we sixed. Several of the Passages are done contrary to the general Opinion, and some few differently from all, both as to the Person that speaks as well as the Meaning, but not without good Grounds: and if any be so nice in censuring, we desire that Person to show us three Terence's that exactly agree with one another, either in Points or Words, for two Acts together Of those Passages that were absolutely doubtful we always took the best, and that which seem d to us the most probable Way and Meaning: and all such as were difficult, knotty or obscure in the Original, we made as plain and clear as we could: and we presume to fancy there are very few Passages in ours, unintelligible to the meanest Capacity. In his Jests and Repartees (except they were Allusions or the like) we hope that the force of 'em is seldom lost. For making every Person speak so exactly like themselves (a thing that our Author was so famous for) is much more difficult it English by reason of its greater variety of Idioms and Phrases than in the Latin; and to suit these always right, requires a greater Genius than we can pretend to. Terence, though reckoned very genteel in his Days seems in some place, to have a sort of familiarity and bluntness in his Discourse not so agreeable with the Manners and Gallantry of our Times: which we have mollified as well as we could, still making the Servants saucy enough upon occasion. In some places we have had somewhat more of Humour than the Original, to make it still more agreeable to our Age; but all the while have kept so nigh our Author's Sense and Design, that we hope it can never be justly call d a fault. We can't certainly tell whether William the Conqueror, the Grand Signior (and the like) may pass with some: They may possibly take 'em for Blunders in time; which are now become Proverbial Expression; the first signifying only a great while ago, and t other a great Man.  
As for the Division of the Acts and Scenes, all the common Terence's are most notoriously false: The Acts are often wrong, but the Scences oftener; and these have bred some obscurity in our Author's Rules Madam Decier has been more exact in this than all others before her; yet, still she's once mistaken in her Acts, and very often in her Scenes. We have followed her as to her Acts, except one in the Phormio; but we have not divided the Scenes at all by Figures, because they are of no such use; only the Reader may take notice that whenever any particular Actor enters upon the Stage, or goes off, that makes a different Scene; for the Ancients never had any other that we know of. The Prologues, by the Advice of several Judicious Persons are left out, as being the Meanest, the fullest of Quibbles, and the least Intelligible of any thing he wrote: They relating chief to private Squabbles between our Author and the Poets of his time: The Particulars of which 'tis impossible for us to understand now, and we need not be much concerned that we don't. Besides, in the main, they are so much beneath the Author, that 'tis much questioned whether they are his or no, especially the Third. The Arguments are certainly none of his, and so far from being useful, that they only serve to forestall the Plots, and take away the Pleasure of surprising.  
Lastly, That there might be nothing wanting that might make this Translation as entire and clear as possible, weve all the way intermixed Notes of Explanation, such as, Enter, Exit, Asides, and all other things of Action, necessary to be known, and constantly practised among our Modern Dramatic Poets. These serve extremely to the clearing of the Plots which would be obscure without 'em; especially since their theatres were so different from ours. And as this sort of Notes are the shortest, that are generally used, so they are most complete, useful and clear, by the help of which any Child almost may apprehend every thing. Perhaps we might have omitted some of'em, but we had better offend this way than the other  
Thus have we said as much as we thought requisite in Vindication of our Master's Honour, and of our own Undertaking. And if we had said ten times as much; and ne'er so much to the purpose, People will think, and talk what they please, and we can't help it.   

THE Life of TERENCE.  
I Vblius Terentius had his Birth at the famous City of Carthage, in Africa, in the Year of Rome 559, Seven Years after the second Punic War, and 192 before Christ His Parentage was Mean no doubt; so little known, that his true Name is not remembered: for that of Terence he took from his Patron Terentius Lucanus, the Roman Senator. As for his Person, he was of a middle Stature, very slender, and somewhat of a tawny Complexion.  
When he was very young, and not past his Childhood, he was made Captive, as 'tis generally supposed, by the Numidians, who sent him immediately to Rome; and there he happened on the forementioned Terentius Lucanus. This Master had so great an Esteem for his good Mien and Excellent Parts, that he did only give him a most tender and genteel Education, but his Freedom too; and what is more, when he was very young; a Favour not very usual in those Days.  
After this, he more closely applied himself to Learning; and his observations and Studies of Men and Manners, seemed to be his chief Employment. His exact Remarks upon men's natural Dispositions; and his Genuis, led him wholly to Dramatic Poetry, particularly Comedy; wherein all the Humours and Passions of Men are so nicely observed and expressed; that we can no where find a truer and more lively Representation of Humane Nature. His comely Personage, and his accurate Writings, brought him into a great Esteem, not only with the People in general, but likewise with the greatest and noblest of 〈◊〉; but he wasmoreespecialy beloved and cherished 〈◊〉 the famous Scipio Africanus and Lelius. With these two inseparable Friends and Companions, he had gained more than ordinary Familiarity; passing away many a fair Hour in Pleasures and Delights, at their Country House at Mount Alba.  
He made himself Master of the Greek Tongue, from which he borrowed much in his Plays; of which we have six remaining. When he had finished his first Play, and brought it to the Edils; they would needs have him read it before Cecelius, as the most approved Judge. Cecelius was then at Supper. Terence's Garb, it seems, was none of the best at that time, therefore he was seated in an ordinary by-place, and there ordered to begin. But a few of his fine Verses so well made amends for the Meanness of his Habit, that he was immediately desired to sit down and take part of what he found at the Table; being placed next to Cecelius himself. After Supper, he read over the rest of his Play to Cecelius' wonderful Delight. The Name of it, we find not; it could not be the Andrian, for that was made two Years after Cecelius was dead.  
In the 28th Year of his Age, he made his Andrian; the first Comedy that we know of, which he took a great part from Menander the Greek Poet. The Year following he made his Hocyra, or Mother-in-Law, which he took chief from Apollodorus the Greek Poet. This Play was the first time unsuccessful, and is the only one whose Plot is perfectly Single. Two Years after, he made his Heautontimorumenos, or Self Tormentor, which he borrowed mostly from Menander. Two Years after that, his Phormio, taken chief from Apollodorus' Epidicazomenos. The same Year, he made his Eunuch; of which he borrowed a great part from Menander: This by many is reckoned his best; however it came off with far greatest Applause. The Year following, in the 34th Year of his Age he made his last Comedy called Adelphi, or the Brothers, and that too was mostly taken from Menander; which Varro, as to the beginning of it, prefers to the beginning of Menander himself.  
These Comedies were in great Reputation among the Romans, and generally succeeded very well; though Plautus had sometimes better Luck on the Stage. But never a one of his took like the Eunuch, for which Terence had 8000 Sesterces; a reward (though not exceeding Sixty Pounds of our Money) greater in those days than ever Poet had. Besides, it was acted twice in one day; the more strange, because Plays than were never made but to be acted two or three times in all. All six were almost equally esteemed by his Countrymen; and most of them had their peculiar Beauties. 'tis observed that the Andrian, and the Brothers, excel in their Characters and Manners; the Eunuch and Phormio, in the Vigour and Liveliness of their Intrigues; and the Self-tormentor, and Mother-in-Law, in their Thoughts, Passions, and Purity of Style.  
Upon the account of his intimate Acquaintance with Scipio and Lelius, it was, and is still generally believed that they had a great, if not a principal Share, in the making of his Plays: And this Conjecture is grounded not only upon the extraordinary Familiarity between them; but also the Accuracy, Propriety, Purity and Politeness of the Style, which do indeed seem above a poor Africans Abilities. But these are but mere Conjectures, intermixed with a Spice of Malice; though indeed redounding much to his Honour, as he himself intimates in the Prologue to his Brothers. The extraordinary Familiarity between them, was probably caused by his Eminent Deserts. The Accuracy and Propriety of his Style, proceeded, perhaps, from his Labour and Studies; as the Purity and Politeness of it, might be the Effects of his Roman Education, and his keeping the best Company. And if he defended himself but slightly whenever he was accused; that may be reckoned his great Complaisance to those Noble Persons.  
These Crimes he was often charged with; but in the Thirty Fifth Year of his Age, either to avoid these Scandals, or to instruct himself in the Customs and Manners of the Grecians, he left Rome to go for that Country, and died soon after his departure, in the Year of Rome 594, Nine Years before the Third Punic War, and 157 before Christ. The Place and Manner of his death is very doubtful. Some say he died in his return from Greece to Rome, with a great number of Greek Comedies Translated by him, and lost with him. Others that he died at Stymphalus, a Village in Arcadia, for Grief of losing those Comedies he had Translated. But here we leave all to the Judgement of more curious Persons.  
It is said by several, that he died very poor; but however his Daughter (the only Child he left) after his decease was married to a Roman Knight; to whom he left a House and a Garden of Six Acres, which was situated under the Appian-Way, nigh that place called Villa-Martis.   

THE Fair ANDRIAN, A COMEDY, Acted at the Feast of Cibele, WHEN M. Fulvius and M. Glabrio were Curule Edil's, By the Company of L Ambivius Turpio. and L. Attilius of Prenestae.  
Flaccus made free by Claudius, composed the Music, which was perform▪ d on two equal Flutes, the one Right-handed, and the other Left handed.  
It was taken wholly from the Greek and Acted,  
Under the Consulship of M. Marcellus, and C. Sulpicius.  
A. V C. 587. before Christ. 162.   

Dramatis Personae.  

MEN.  
Simo, An old rich Merchant of Athens; very kind and indulgent to his Son, but otherwise of a Disposition somewhat peevish.  
Chremes, His Friend and Neighbour Father to Philumena; of an easy pliant temper.  
Pamphilus, Simo s Son; very civil, courteous and obedient; but passionately in love with Glycerie.  
Charine, A young Gentlemen his Friend; in love with Chremes ' s Daughter Philumena.  
Socia, Simo ' s Steward.  
Dromo, His Footman.  
Davus, Servant to Pamphilus; a saucy, cunning, intriguing Fellow, always helping his Master out in his Amours, and putting Tricks upon Simo.  
Byrrhie, Servant to Charine.  
Crito, A Stranger of the Isle of Andro; an honest downright Country Fellow.   

WOMEN.  
Glycerie, The Fair Andrian; debauched and kept by Pamphilus  
Mysis, Her Maid, very faithful and careful.  
Lesbian, An old Shaking Midwife.   

MUTES.  
Archillis, Glycerie ' s Kurse.  
Servants to S●n●, Attendants, etc.   
Scene, ATHENS.  
The TIME about Seven or Eight Hours.   

THE Fair ANDRIAN.  

ACT I.  
SCENE, The Street before Simo ' s Door. TIME, The Forenoon.  Enter Simo, Socia, and other of Simo ' s Servants, with Provisions, and Things, as from the Market. Simo to the Servants. 
AWAY with those things there, and be gone.— But do you stay, Socia; I've something to say to you.  Exeunt Servants. Soc. 
I understand ye, Sir: You'd ha'Care taken of these things, I suppose.  Sim. 
Quite another Business.  Soc. 
Can my poor Skill be further Serviceable to you?  Sim. 
Nay, there's no need of that Skill of yours i'th' case: Be but as Faithful and Secret as ye used to be, and the business is done.  Soc. 
I wait your Pleasure, Sir.  Sim. 
I'm sure you can't but know what a fair and easy Master I ha' been t●ye e'er since I bought ye of a Child, and in requital of your good Services, I gave ye your Freedom, the most that I could do for ye.  Soc. 
Sir, I'm not forgetful of it.  Sim. 
Nor do I repent it.  Soc. 
I'm very glad, Sir, to find ye pleased with any thing I ever did, or can do; and am much obliged to ye for your good Opinion of me. But with Submission, Sir, this somewhat troubles me: for such a reminding a Man of a Benefit seems to intimate as if he were insensible of it.— But in one Word, Sir, What can I serve you in?  Sim. 
I'll tell you: i'the first place you are to understand, that the Business of the Wedding is all shame.  Soc. 
Why d'ye put it upo'th World then?  Sim. 
I'll tell ye the whole Mystery of it, and give ye such a light into my Son's Conversation and my Designs, that you'll immediately see what part you are to act in this Business.— When I first took him from School, Socia, I left him a little to himself, to try which way his Genius would lead him: which was hard to know for certain, or indeed tolerably to guests at, whilst he was a Boy, under the Awe of a Rod and Master.  Soc. 
Right, Sir.  Sim. 
You know 'tis a common thing for most young Men, to give up themselves wholly either to Horses, Hounds, Books, or the like: New he was not overfond of any of these, though he was in at all. This I liked well.  Soc. 
YE had reason, Sir: For not to be too much addicted to any one thing, I take to be the most excellent Rule of Life.  Sim. 
Then for his Conversation Socia: He was never uneasy upon any occasion, nor would he ever spoil Company, but closed with all Humours, never thwarting others, nor assuming too much to himself. And I think this was the way to get Reputation and Friends without Envy.  Soc. 
He took a wise Course: For as the World goes now, Complaisance goes currant, when Plaindealing will not pass.  Sim. 
In this Interim, there comes a Woman about three Years ago from Andro, who takes Lodgings in our Neighbourhood, forced hither by the scantiness of her own Fortune, and the neglect of her Relations: But she was a fine Woman indeed, and in the very Flower of her Age.  Soc. 
Ah, Sir! I fear this same fine Woman bodes us no good.  Sim. 
At first indeed, she lived a very honest; thrifty, and laborious sort of a Life, earning her Bread at her Finger's ends. But afterwards, when the Love-business came on, and the Golden Promises from this and tother, (as People had rather follow their Pleasure than their Work) she accepts of their Offers, and immediately sets up the Trade. Some of her Gallants, as ill luck would have it, carried my Boy along with 'em for Company's sake. Then said I to myself, the Fool's noosed, noos'd, he's smitten. So I made it my Business i'the Morning to watch the Lacky's going and coming, and would ask 'em now and then, Hark ye good Boy, tell me ye little Rogue to whose turn fell Chyrsis last Night? For you must know that was the Name she went by.  Soc. 
Very well, Sir.  Sim. 
They'd tell me, Phedrus, Clinie, or Niceratus perhaps, (for those were all in with her) Ay, Rutilio my good Lads, What did Pamphilus? What did ●e? (they'd cry) Why? he only eat with 'em, and paid his Club. This pleased me to the very Soul. So I fell to pumping 'em another time, but not one Word that Pamphilus had ever been dabbling. This I thought a sufficient Trial, and a considerable Instance of his Virtue. For he that has to do with such sort of Cattle, and comes off clear, you may safely trust him with the Management of himself. When others saw how I relish't it, they fell in one and all, and said a hundred fine things, I warrant ye, what a Blessed Father I was to have such a towardly Son.— In one Word, the Reputation of it wrought so upon my Neighbour Chremes, that nothing would serve him, but a Match between my Son and his Daughter, with a good Portion over and above too, The Proposal took, we both agreed upon't, and this was t'have been the Wedding-day.  Soc. 
Very good, And what obstruction now?  Sim. 
I'll tell ye.— In a very few days whilst this was doing, Chyrsis dies—  Soc. 
In a good hour, Sir. We are all made then. To be free with ye, I did ned like this same Chrysis.  Sim. 
My Son, you must know, and the humble Servants of Chrysis were together, and together took care of the Funeral: He was really sad, and now and then dropped a Tear, which I did ned dislike. For, thought I, He that is so much moved, and upon such slender acquaintance, What if she had been his own Mistress? How would he take on if I should die? All this I looked upon to be the Effects of good Nature, and a sweet Temper.— To conclude, I myself to humour him went also to the Funeral without suspecting any thing.  Soc. 
How, Sir! And what then? Fearfully.  Sim. 
I'll tell ye— The Body is brought out, the Company moves, and amongst the Women 'twas my Fortune to cast my Eye upon a young Creature, with a Face—  Soc. 
Good enough perhaps.  Sim. 
Ay Socia, and an Air so modest, so pretty, nothing could be more charming.— Now finding this Woman so much more concerned than the rest, and her Behaviour much more genteel and graceful than any there; I went and whispered to the Servants to know who she was. They told me, The dead Person's Sister. That Word struck me to the very Heart. Well, well, (though I) the whole Business is unravelled, and the Tears and the Whining are no longer a Mystery.  Soc. 
I'm in such a Fright to know how this business will come off.  Sim. 
Well: the Funeral marches, we follow, come to the place where the Body was to be laid, put it into the Fire, and give her a Tear: Mean time, the Sister I told ye of, runs like a Madwoman up to the Fire, and truly almost into't. At which Pamphilus in a great fright discovers that Love which he had so well dissembled, and concealed before, runs to her, takes her in his Arms My dear Gleycerie, says he, What de●e do? Would ye destroy yourself? With that all in Tears she flings herself upon him, and with so much tenderness too, that you might easily perceive 'twasn't the first time of their acquaintance.  Soc. 
Ah! How's this Sir? In a maze.  Sim. 
Away go I very moody and dissatisfied, but not enough to make a Wrangle on't, For if I had chid him, he'd ha' said, Pray, Sir, What have I done? What have I deserved, Sir? What's my Fault, Sir? A foolish Woman would ha' burnt herself, I hindered her, and saved her Life it may be. This is as fair a Plea as can be.  Soc. 
've Reason, Sir: For had you blamed him for saving her out of the Flames, what would ye ha' done if he had thrown her in?  Sim. 
Next day comes my Neighbour Chremes storming like a Madman, That there was Roguery i'th' Case, and that most certainly Pamphilus, and this Woman were engaged together. I denied it, he affirmed it, and in fine, went his way in a Pet as if he would break off the Match with his Daughter.  Soc. 
And did ned ye School your Son upon this?  Sim. 
No, no: 'twas ned enough yet to pick a Quarrel at.  Soc. 
How so I beseech ye?  Sim. 
He might have said: You, Sir, are now putting a stop to all my Pleasures of this nature; Shortly I must be married, and live after another's Humour, mean time, pray Sir, let me live a little after my own.—  Soc. 
Well Sir! If this won't do, What can you possibly find to chide him for?  Sim. 
Why, if he refuses to marry upon the account of his Miss, that Business, must be laid home to him first. Now my design is by means of this Mock-wedding to find a just Cause of being angry, if he should'nt agree to't: And that if the Rogue Davus has any Trick in his Head, he may put it off if he can; I ant like to be his Chapman: Tho I know he'll be at it tooth and nail, and more to plague me perhaps, than to pleasure my Son.  Soc. 
What makes ye think so?  Sim. 
d'ye ask that Question? Ever while ye live, What's bred i'the Bone will ne'er out of the Flesh. But if I find him tampering, I'll—. In short, put the Case that Pamphilus should'nt boggle (as I hearty wish he wou'dned) than Chremes is only to be sweetened, and I hope 'twill do. Now the part you're to act is to countenance the Marriage, mortify Davus, watch the Boy, and be a Spy upon their Counsels.  Soc. 
Enough Sir, I'll take care of all.— Now I suppose we may retire Sir.  Sim. 
Go. I'll follow ye presently. Exit Socia. Simo walks about studying.  
My Life on't, this Boy o●mine has no stomach to a Wife: For if he had, Davus would'nt ha' been so startled at the Talk of a Match in hand.— But hold ye! Yonder he comes. Enter Davus at another part of the Stage, not seeing Simo.  Dau. 
to himself. I should ha' wondered if this Business had gone off so: and that fleering Sweetness of my Master I didn't like. For when he heard the Match was breaking, he stood with his Finger in his Mouth, and never so much as grumbled at it.—  Sim. 
overhearing. But Sirrah! now he will, you shall see, and make ye smoke for t● to●. Aside.  Dau. 
to himself. I'll warrant ye his Business was to owl us into a Fool's Paradise, and I'th' midst of all our hop's have taken us napping, before. we could bethink ourselves of spoiling the joy. A cunning old Fellow!  Sim. 
listening. This Rogue! What says he? Aside.  Dau. 
discovering Simo S Life my Master's upo' th' Back o'me, and I ne'er dreamed of him. Softly,  Sim. 
Davus!  Dau. 
seeming not to know him Umph! Who's that?  Sim. 
Here, Sir, this way.  Dau. 
What would this old Fellow have? Softly.  Sim. 
partly hearing. De●e m●tter Sirrah?  Dau. 
Who I, Sir?  Sim. 
And ask Questions too?— Sirrah 'tis the Town-talk that my Son keeps a Miss.  Dau. 
The Town's much concerned I warrant for what our Pam does. Aside.  Sim. 
Rascal! d'ye mind what I say or no? Angrily.  Dau. 
O yes, Sir, very much.  Sim. 
I should be looked upon as a hard Father I know, for peeping into his Intrigues.— For what's gone and passed I regard not much; for he had Liberty enough, so long as 'twas fit for me to give it, or him to take it. But now the Case is alter'd, and new Circumstances call for new Measures and new Manners; and therefore I require you, or if 'twere decent, let me entreat ye good Davus, that my Son take up and mend.  Dau. 
Sir, I'm i'th' dark all this while.  Sim. 
Your Wenchers you know are sick at the Name of Wife and Matrimony—  Dau. 
Ay, Sir, so they say indeed.  Sim. 
— Then if any such has got a Tutor of his own Kidney, he shall be sure to be plied o'the weak side.  Dau. 
Really, Sir, I don't understand ye.  Sim. 
No? That's strange. Angrily.  Dau. 
Why Sir, I'm plain Davus still, no Conjurer.  Sim. 
Then you'd ha' the rest o'my Mind in words at length.  Dau. 
Yes Sir, to choose.  Sim. 
Look ye Sirrah! if I catch ye in any of your Roguy Legerdemain tricks to hinder this Match, or that ye have a Mind to show how shrewd you are at Plotting: I'll ha' your Skin stripped o'er your Ears, and you sent to Bridewell Sirrah! there to lie and rot, upon this Condition, and by this token, that when e'er I take you out, I'll give you leave to put me in.— What, does your Rogueship understand me now? Han't I spoke plain enough yet?  Dau. Ay shrewdly. 
'tis the very thing itself without going about.  Sim. 
Well Sirrah! Trick me in any thing but this.  Dau. 
Gently, gently, Sir, I beseech ye. Jeeringly.  Sim. 
Rascal d'ye laugh at me too? But I know ye well enough, and remember what I tell ye; done't Act hand over Head, and pretend ye hadned fair play shown ye.— Take this for a Warning Exit Simo.  Davus 
alone. Why seriously poor Davy, 'tis high time to bestir thy stumps, and to leave offdozing; at least if a body may guests at the old Man's meaning by his Mumping. If these Brains don't help me out at a dead lift, to pot goes Pilgarlick, or his Master for certain.— [He studies.] And hang me for a Dog, if I know which side to take, whether to help my young Master, or make fair with his Father.— Should I leave the Son, the poor Rogue may hang himself for aught I know; and if I help him, I dread an old Fox whom the Devil can't outwit.— In the first place he has certainly smelled out his Son's haunts, than he suspects and keeps a deadly narrow Eye o'er me, lest I should play fast and lose with him in this Business. If he smokes it I'm no Man of this World; or if the Toy takes him i'the Head, right or wrong he'll find an occasion to have me into Lobs-pound in a trice.— Besides all this, here's another piece of damned Luck, this same Glycerie (whether Wife or Miss I can't tell) is undoubtedly with Child by my master; and troth 'tis the pleasantest thing in the World, to tell their Adventure; for it looks more like a Romance than an Amour. Whatsee're God sends'em they're resolved to bring it up. And 've contrived to shame the Mother upon the World for a Citizen of Athens. Now (say they) once upon a time there was a certain old Man a Merchant of our Town, who was cast away upon the Isle of Andro: He dying, there did Chrysis ' s Father take this young Orphan cast ashore, and bring her up. 'Tis all stuff. O' my conscience it sounds like a Lie; but however the Story takes hugely with them.—  
Mysis appears at Glycerie's Door. But hold! here comes her Girl Mysis.— I'll even go to the Change, and hunt up my Master Pamphilus, his Father else will go nigh to surprise him before he has his Lesson.  
Exit Davus.  
As Mysis Enters upon the Stage, Archillis comes to the Door.  Mys. 
to Archillis. Yes, Yes: I understand ye Archillis without all this noise: You'd ha' me go for Lesbian by all means. But upon my word she's a true Toper, and a giddy Brain Creature, not fit to be trusted with a Womans' first Labour; But however I ll bring her.— Archillis retires, and Mysis turns to her Spectators. Didn't. ye see how eager this old Trot was to have her come, because they might Fuddle their Noses together.— Well! Heavens grant my poor Mistress a good Delivery, and that any body may miscarry under her Hands rather than she.—  Enter Pamphilus at a distance. 
But what's here to do that Mr. Pamphilus is so strangely discrdered?— It makes me tremble to think what should be the matter.— There's Mischief a brewing, and I ll stay a little to see what comes on't.  She retires to one side of the Stage. Pamp. 
to himself. Was ever such a thing done or thought of yet by Man? Is this the part of a Father?  Mys. 
What mischief's i'th' Wind now trow? Aside.  Pam. 
to himself. If this bened severity with a witness, before God and Man there's no such thing in nature.— My Father it seems designed t' have married me to day. One would ha' thought I might ha' known on't before. Or at least have had some notice of my own Wedding.  Mys. 
Alas! What's this I hear?  Aside. Pam. 
to himself. What means this Chremes too? Who but lately declared against the Match. Has he changed his own Mind, because he saw I would not change mine? Is he so resolutely bend to rend me from my dearest Glycerie? If it comes to that once, I'm ruined beyond Redemption.— Was there ever such an awkward and unlucky Fellow upon Earth as I?— O Heavens! Is there no way to shuffle off the Alliance with this Chremes? How grossly have I been abused and trampled on? All things were agreed upon, every thing signed and sealed; of a sudden I their Castoff must be brought on again. But why? unless there's some damnable Roguery i'th' bottom on't, which I am very suspicious of. Now because this Dowdy lies upon her Father's Hands, and no body else will, I must.  Scornfully. Mys. 
I vow these Words make my poor heart go pit-a-pat.  Aside. Pam. 
to himself. But what shall I say o'my Father all this while? Alas for him! That he should so carelessly huddle up a thing of so great Consequence.— He told me upon the Change as he went by me even now, Pamphilus, You're to be married to day, go home presently, and make yourself ready: Which sounded to me as if he said, Go home presently and hang yourself. It stunn d me so that I hadn't a Word to answer, nor the least Colour of excuse, tho' ne'er so foolish, false, or extravagant. In short, I was Tonguetied.— But if any body should ask me now, What would ye ha' done, supposing you had had timely notice on't? Why sure I would ha' done something not to have done this.— But as the Case now stands, Where shall I begin first? so many Difficulties cumber and distract my Soul at once: On this side Love, pity for that dear Creature, and my being urged to marry; on that side the Reverence due to my Father who has hitherto indulged me in all that Heart could wish, and shall I turn Rebel at last?— I'm very unhappy, and which side to take to I know not.  Mys. 
coming nearer. Alas! How I dread as much which side he'll take to! But now 'tis absolutely necessary for him to speak with her, or for me to tell him something about her. For when the Minds upon the Balance, the least thing i'the World turns the Scale.  Aside. Pam. 
What Voice is that?— Is it you Mysis? in good time.  Mys. 
O Mr. Pamphilus, well met.  Pam. 
How does your Mistress.  Mys. 
She Sir? Why she's just now in her Labour: than it goes the harder with the poor Creature, because she hears this is to be your Wedding day; but worst of all for fear you should leave her at last.  Pam. 
Oh hideous! Can I entertain such a Thought? Shall I suffer an unfortunate Gentlewoman to be ruined for my Pleasure, who put her Life and Honour into my hands? One that I've lov d with the Fondness and Tenderness of a Husband? Shall I expose so much Modesty and Virtue to the Temptation of so strong a Necessity? No, no: it must never be.  Mys. 
That is to say if you could help it; but I'm afraid you can't stand the Brunt of your Father.  Pam. 
But can ye think me such a Scoundrel? So ungrateful? So inhuman? Nay and so brutal too? That neither Friendship, Love, nor Honour, can make or keep me honest?  Mys. 
This I can assure ye, Sir, you do her great wrong if you forget her.  Pam. 
Forget her, say ye?— O Mysis, Mysis! What Chrysis spoke to me about her Sister, is to this day engraven on my Heart, she was just dying, I remember, when she called; I went to her, you among ye withdrew, we alone, she thus began. My Pamphilus! you see the Youth and Beauty of this poor Girl; I needned tell ye how little these signify either to the security of her Virtue, or Fortune.— Now by this Hand of yours, and your natural Goodness I beg of ye: I adjure ye by the Faith you ve given this poor Creature, and by her solitary Condition, to be true to her, and never for sake her.— If you ve ever been to me as my own Brother, if you're the Man i' the World whom she ever most esteem, d, if she never denied ye any thing, that she could grant ye: I now bequeath ye to her for a Husband, a Friend, a Guardian, and a Father too. I leave ye also Master of my Fortune to do with it as ye please.— With these Words she joined our Hands, and in the very Action died. I received her, and am resolved to keep her.  Mys. 
Indeed, Sir, I hope so.  Pam. 
But why from your Mistress at this time?  Mys. 
I'm going for a Midwife.  Pam. 
Prithee make haste then. [She is going off. But Hark ye: not a word o' th' Wedding to her; for fear it should make her the worse.  Mys. 
I understand ye.  Exeunt severally. 
End of the First Act.   

ACT II.  Charine attended by Byrrhie. Cham As they enter.— 
HOw's this Byrrhie? Is she to be married to Mr. Pamphilus to day? Ha!  Byr. 
Neither better nor worse.  Cham 
How know ye that?  Byr. 
I had it of Davus at the Change.  Cham 
Unlucky Creature that I am! There's some Life in a Man as long as he lies hover betwixt hope and fear, but when he comes to despond once, he sinks amain, and his Heart's as heavy as a lump of Lead.—  Byr. 
For Goodness sake, Sir, be but so much a Philosopher, as if ye can't have what ye would, content yourself with what you may.  Cham 
Nay, there is nothing I'd have, but my dear Philumena.  Byr. 
Ah, Sir, Were it not much better to try if ye can put that Love out of your Head, than to indulge your Passion thus, stand blowing o the Coal, and to no purpose neither.  Cham 
'Tis an easier Matter to give Council than to take it, and if you had my Distemper, you d say so.  Byr. 
Well, well, Sir! what ye please for that.  Enter Pamphilus at a distance. Cham 
But stay a little, I see Mr. Pamphilus yonder. Since my Life's at stake, I'm resolve d to make a Bolt or a Shaft on t.  Byr. 
What whim takes my Master now? Aside.  Cham 
Why I will so beg, and beg of him, and tell him such a dismal story of my Love, that I fancy he may be prevailed upon to put off the Wedding for two or three days; mean time something may happen.  Byr. 
And that something is just nothing at all. Aside.  Cham 
What think ye Byrrhie had I best go to him or no?  Byr. 
By all means, Sir, though to no other purpose than to make him believe you ll Cuckold him, if he marries her.  Cham 
Go hang yourself, ye suspicious Cur.  Pam. 
coming nearer. O here's Mr Charine.— Your Servant, Sir.  Cham 
Oh, Sir, the very man I wanted!— For if you don't keep up my Heart, protect, assist and advise me, I'm undone.  Pam. 
Troth, Sir, 've found me but in a sorry Condition, either to assist or advise ye.— But, pray, Sir, tell me what you'd have.  Cham 
Arned you to be married to day, Sir?  Pam. 
'Tis so reported.  Cham 
If ye do, Sir, 've seen your last of me.  Pam. 
Why so, Sir?  Cham 
Alas, Sir, I darened tell ye.— Prithee, Byrrhie, you tell him.  Byr. 
I will, Sir.  Pam. 
to Byrrhie. Well, what's the Business?  Byr. 
He's only in love with your Spouse, that's all, Sir.  Pam. 
Truly we arned both of a Mind.— But, pray be plain with me, Is there no nearer Engagement between you and her?  Cham 
Ah, Sir, none at all.  Pam. 
O my Soul I wish there were,  Cham 
Now as 've any Love or Friendship for me, I do adjure ye not to marry her;—  Pam. 
Sir, I'll do my best i'th' Case.  Cham 
— But if ye can't avoid it, or if the Wedding be so much to your Heart's desire,—  Pam. 
My Heart's desire? Angrily.  Cham 
— At least put it off a day or two longer, that I may get out of the way.  Pam. 
But hear me a little, Mr. Charine. This is all to the Tune of, I thank ye for nothing. For I ll assure ye I'm more against the Match, than you are for't.  Cham 
That word has brought me to Life again.  Pam. 
Now if there be any thing to be done between you and your Man Byrrhie, fall to work upon't, lie, contrive, do but order the Matter so that she may be yours; and let me alone to see she shall never be mine.  Cham 
Enough, Sir.  Pam. 
seeing Davus afar off. But yonder comes Davus in the lucky Minute, whose Advice I rely upon.  Cham 
to Byrrhie. Ay Davus— but you, Sirrah, are good for nothing, but to tell me what I shall be never the better for.— In short, out of my sight.  Byr. 
With all my Heart, Sir. Runs out.  
Enter Davus at a distance, looking about him.  Dau. 
to himself. In the name of Goodness!  
What a world of good News do I bring?— But where's our Pam. now? For I ve that to tell him which will rid him of his present Fears, and make his Heart leap in his Belly.  Cham 
There's something pleases him, if a Body knew what it were.  Pam. 
There's nothing in't; the Fellow hasned heard the Story of my misfortunes.  Dau. 
to himself.— I'll warrant, did he but know he was to be married today,—  Cham 
D'ye hear him, Sir?  Dau. 
to himself.— He'd post about the Town in a pitiful condition after me.— But where the De'l shall I meet with him now? Or where shall I go to find him?  Cham 
What not a word to him?  Dau. 
to himself. Well I ll be marching. Going off.  Pam. 
Soho! Davus, stay.  Dau. 
not knowing him. What Fellow's that interrupts?— [turning about O Lord! My Master Pamphilus! the Man I looked for:— And Heyday! here's Mr. Charine too! rarely well met, for I' ve Business with ye both.  Pam. 
Ah Davus! quite ruined!—  Dau. 
interrupting. But hear me first.  Pam. 
I'm a lost man.—  Dau. 
I know your Grief. Hastily.  Cham 
And my Life's at stake.—  Dav 
turning to Charine. That I know too.  Pam. 
I'm to be married—  Dau. 
As if I didn't know that too. Angrily.  Pam. 
But to day Davus.  Davus. 
Zookers! 've put me besides my Senses. I know all.— You're afraid ye should marry her, to Pamphilus— and you re afraid ye should not. to Charine.  Cham Pam. together, 
Thou hast nicked it. Ay, the very same.  Dau. 
That very same's nothing by this Light, trust me, Sir.  Pam. 
Prithee good Boy, without any more ado rid me from my Fears.  Dau. 
So I will, Sir, in a trice. Imprimis, Mr Chremes parts with no Daughter to day.  Pam. 
How d'ye know that?  Dau. 
I know't well enough, Sir— Your Father just now took me aside, and told me, You must be Married to day, with a long Story at the tail on't, not worth telling you now. Upon this I ran full speed to the Change, to acquaint you with't, where when I found ye not, I gets me up on high, then stairs me round about, but no Pamphilus appears. By chance I espied Byrrhie, asked him if he had seen ye, but no tidings yet. This fretted my very Guts. To work goes my Noddle, to know what to do. Mean while on my return I began to smell the whole Business out. A●, ha'! there's not a Bit extraordinary for a Treat, the old Man out of Tune too. A Wedding clapped up in a trice. These things don't hang well together.  Pam. 
Well, what of all this?  Dau. 
Away marched I to Neighbour Chremes'; when I got there, not a Creature stirring before the Door did I see, which made me laugh in my sleeve.  Cham 
That's well.  Pam. 
On with your Story.  Dau. 
There stayed I some time, but the De'il a Person saw I going out or in, never an old Governante; nor the least preparations or hurry in all the House.  Pam. 
I grant this is a good sign.  Dau. 
Does this look like a Wedding?  Pam. 
Indeed, Davus, I think not.  Da. 
Marry come up with your think notes— Ye know nothing I see, why 'tis as plain as a Pack Staff. As I was beating the Hoof homewards, who should I meet but Mr. Chremes' Boy, coming from the Market with a Bunch of Herbs, and Three ha' perth of little little Fishes, for the old Man's Supper.  Cham 
God-a-mercy Davus This day hast thou set me upon my Legs again.  
hear  Dau. 
What a plaguy Mistake you lie under?  Cham 
Why so? You're Master isn't like to have her  Da. 
Well done Logic! As if there were ne'er another Man i' th' World, but your Worship and my Master. If ye done t look about ye, make Friends to the old Gentleman, and ply the Lady briskly, ye may snap short for all that tho.  Cham 
Your Counsels good, I ll followed. Tho in troth my hopes have often jilted me, and so farewell.  Exit Charine. Pam. 
Prithee Davus, what does my Father propose to himself? what makes him double thus?  Da. 
I'll tell ye, Sir. If he should take pet now that Mr. Chremes won't part with his Daughter, he couldn't but blame himself for't, and right enough too, till he finds how you stand affected to the Wedding. But if it goes off on your side, the blame will be laid all at your door; and there will be the Devil to do then.  Pam. 
What? Shall I truckle?  Da. 
Why, Sir, he's your Father, and you'll have a hard task on't Besides your Mistress has no body to stand by her, upon the least occasion he'll quickly make the Town too hot for her.  Pam. 
Too hot for her?  Angrily and scornfully. Dau. 
In the turning of a Hand, Sir.  Pam. 
Prithee, honest Davus, what shall I do in this case  Da. 
Why even tell him you'll have her.  Pam 
Oh!  Da. 
Why that Sigh now?  Pam. 
What tell him a thing so far from my Heart?  Da. 
Why not, I pray?  Pam. 
O Davus, never, never—  Da. 
Never deny't man.  Pam. 
Don't put me upon't.  Da. 
Consider well what will come on't.  Pam. 
Yes, that 'twill put me out of the one and in with the other.  Da. 
No, no, you're wide.— Now I fancy that your Father will say some such thing as this. Come Son I must needs ha' ye Mary to day. With all my Heart, say you— Well; And what can he quarrel at now? This will ruin all his Designs, and you in a whole Skin all this while. For 'tis as certain as certainty itself, that Mr. Chremes won't give ye his Daughter. So that you needned break a jot of your own Measures for fear of his altering his mind. Do but tell your Father you'll marry, and let him be angry if he can. As for your flattering yourself, that no body else will part with his Daughter to one in your Circumstances. I'll answer that in a word, your Father will tie a Beggar Wench upon your Back, rather than let ye whore o''is rate— Look ye, if he find ye once indifferent: He'll sleep over it, and look ye out another no body knows when. In the mean time something may happen on our side.  Pam. 
Think ye so?  Da. 
No doubt on't, I'll warrant ye.  Pam. 
Have a care where thou lead'st me.  Da. 
What will ye never ha' done?  Pam. 
Well I ll say as you'd have me. But you must take special care it don't come to my Father's Ear that I've a Child, and that I'm in for Maintenance.  Da. 
O Confident Devil.  Pam. 
Why she bond me upon my Oath to take care on't, as a Token I would ne'er forsake her.  Da. 
Well, we'll take care on't—  
Enter Simo at a great distance.  
Yonder comes your Father, put on your t'other Face quick.  Sim. 
to himself. These Blades are conferring Notes; I have a mind to see what they'd be at.  Da. 
The good old Man takes it for granted, that you'll refuse to marry. He comes so cogitabund from some by corner or another; he questions not but he has that in his Head which will put ye to a confounded Nonplus— Be sure to have all your Brains about ye.  Pam. 
I'll do what I can Davus.  Da. 
Come, Sir, tell him but you'll marry her, and if ever he opens his Mouth to ye again upon that Business, never believe Davus.  
Enter Byrrhie at another part of the Stage watching them.  Byr. 
to himself. This Master o' mine has discharged me a while from all other Services, to make me a Spy upon Mr Pamphilus' Designs about this Wedding. For this purpose have I dogged Father Greybeard upon the heel— O here they are all together.— Faith I'll play at Bopeep here.  Withdraws to the side of the Stage. Sim. 
coming nearer. O here are the Gentlemen I want.  Da. 
' Is't! mind your Cue.  Sim. 
Pamphilus!  Dau. 
softly Turn quick as though you hadn't seen him.  Pam. 
turning hastily about. Ha my dear Father!  Da. 
Excellent I' Faith.  Aside to Pamphilus. Sim. 
I must ha' ye marry to day as I told ye.  Byr. 
Now I am plaguely afraid whether his answer will be for us. Aside.  Pam. 
Sir, I shall be ready to obey ye in this and all other Commands.  Byr. 
Say ye so?  Aside. Da. 
The old Man's Mouth is stopped.  Aside. Byr. 
What answered he?  Aside. Sim. 
Why this is like a Son, when ye cheerfully do as your Father would ha' ye  Da. 
Will ye believe me another time?  Aside to Pamphilus Byr. 
For aught I perceive, my poor Master may go whistle for a Wife.  Aside. Sim. 
Go in Pamphilus, that you may be at hand when you're wanted.  Pam. 
I'm going, Sir.  Exit Pamphilus. Byr. 
coming from his covert. Is there no Faith in Man? well I find the old Saying stands good, Every Man for his own ends. I remember once I had a glimpse of this Lass; 'Sbobs! a charming Creature! And Mr Pamphilus is i'th' right on't, if he had rather lie by such a one himself than my Master should.— I'll go tell him all; 'tis but venturing a few hard words for a little hard News. Ex. Byr.  Da. 
Now this old Mumpsimus concludes I ve got some notable Intrigue in my Budget, and that I planted myself here upon the same account.  Aside. Sim. 
What says Davus to the World?  Da. 
There's no News stirring, Sir.  Sim. 
None say ye?  Angrily. Da. 
None at all, Sir.  Sim. 
Truly but I looked for something tho.  Da. 
He has lost his Aim I perceive, and that nettles him too.  Aside. Sim. 
Sirrah, can ye speak without a Lie in your Mouth?  Da. 
Most fluently, Sir.  Sim. 
Come, Do'sned this Match stick in my Son's Stomach, because of his Amours with the Stranger?  Da. 
Why truly, Sir, no,— or were it so, that uneasiness would off in a day or two's time, (D ye understand me, Sir?) then all would be well again. But now he has fairly taken the Point by the right handle.  Sim. 
I commend him for't.  Da. 
Indeed when you winked at it, and his Age bore him out in't, he did wench a little, but then he did it secretly, and like a Man of Honour took care it should be no Blot to his Scutcheon.— Now 'tis time to look out for a Wife, he has his thoughts wholly upon Matrimony.  Sim. 
Methought he looked a little downish upon it tho.  Da. 
Not at all for that, but there's something else he didn't take so well at your hands.  Sim. 
what's that prey?  Da. 
A mere trifle, Sir.  Sim. 
What is't, for a trifle?  Da. 
Nay nothing at all to speak on.  Sim. 
Well, well, I must know what it is.  Da. 
He says, You're too sparing of your Purse.  Sim. 
Who I?  Angrily. Da. 
Yes, you Sir.— For, says he, my Father has laid out but Ten Groats for a Supper, And is that to be my Wedding Treat forsooth? Which of my Companions can I invite at such a time as this? And under the Rose, Sir, I think you are a little too close-fisted: I could wish it were otherwise.  Sim. 
Leave your prating Sirrah.  Da. 
I ve stung him I see.  Aside. Sim. 
Let me alone to see that all be well.—  Exit Davus. Simo 
alone. What's the meaning of all this?— What would this old Hocus be at?— If there be any piece of Roguery here on foot, I ll lay my Life he's chief Actor in't. Exit after him.  
The end of the Second Act.   

ACT III.  Enter Mysis and Lesbian on one part of the Stage; on another Simo and Davus observing them. Mys. 
TRuly Lesbian, you're much i'th' the right on't. A faithful Lover is a very great rarity.  Sim. 
This Maid belongs to the Andrian; What say you to't?  Da. 
Yes Sir.  Mys. 
to Lesbian But this Mr. Pamphilus—  Sim. 
What says she?  Aside. Mys. 
— Has signed and sealed over again;—  Sim. 
So, so!  Da. 
Woven the old Man's Ears were stopped, or her Tongue out for me.  Aside. Mys. 
— For whate'er God sends her, he has ordered to be brought up.  Sim. 
Confusion! What do I hear? If what she says be true, all's past recovery.  
Les. A sweet natured young Gentleman I'll warrant ye.  Mys. 
Oh a most sweet natured— But come along, for you'll be too late else  Les. 
Well let's in then. Exeunt Mysis and Lesbian.  Da. 
How shall we recover ourselves out of this Relapse.  Aside. Sim. 
walking aside. What means all this?— Is my Son so mad then? And for a stranger too? But hold! Now I see which way the Hare goes.— That I couldn't find it before, like a senseless Sot as I was.  softly. Dau. 
partly overhearing. what's that he has found out, says he?  Sim. 
Oh here gins the Rogue's tricks; they pretend a great Belly among 'em to beat off Mr. Chremes from the Match.  Aside. Glycerie 
within Oh!— Oh!— Help kind Heavens and free me from my Pains.— I beseech ye. Oh—  Sim. 
softly. Ha', ha', ha',— so nimble! A very good Jest! After she heard of my being at the Door, she presently falls in Labour forsooth.— Your Farce wasn't well timed Mr. Rogue. [too Dau.  Da. 
Meaning me, Sir?  Sim. 
Ah Sirrah, were your Actors out in their Parts?  Da. 
I don't understand ye, Sir, in the least.  Sim. 
If this Rascal had served me so in a real wedding here would ha' been fine work with a vengeance. But now he makes a Rod for his own Back; for my part I'm safe enough.  Enter Lesbian from Glycerie's House, not seeing Simo and Davus. Les. 
to Archillis at the Door. For what's past Archillis, and for a Woman in her Condition every thing is as well as a Body could wish. In the first place let her be well bathed; and then let h● take the Dose I prescribe her to drink, and just the quantity. I shall be back again in a minute.— Archillis retires, Lesbian speaks to herself. Heart o' my Body! Pamphilus has got a very pretty Boy. I hope in Heaven he'll live to make as good a Man as his Father, who scorned to wrong this innocent Creature.  Exit Lesbian. Sim. 
What Man alive that knew thee, wou'dned swear that this was one of thy Rogues tricks?  Da. 
What Rogues tricks, Sir?  Sim. 
Within Doors there were no Orders given about the bigbellied woman; but when she was once out, she sets up a bawling in the Streets to those within, that the whole Town might ring on't.— Why Davus am I to be made a Property; or what dost thou see in my Face, to think of making so palpable an Ass of me? If it had been more artificial, it would ha' looked like somewhat of Reverence for me, if I should have found it out.  Da. 
Faith the old Fool cheats himself, not I  Aside. Sim. 
Didn't I charge ye strictly? Nay didn't I threaten ye too? But what cared you? 'Twas all but so much Breath lost. Can ye think me so mad, as to believe this woman's brought to Bed?  Da. 
Oh have I found out his blind-side? I know my Cue then.  Aside. Sim. 
Have ye never a Tongue in your Head Sirrah?  Da. 
Why what would ye believe? As if you hadn't an Item of this beforehand.  Sim. 
Who should give me an Item?  Da. 
Strange! Did you find out this Imposture, and yourself too.  Jeeringly. Sim. 
Very fine! I'm laughed at.  Da. 
I'm sure 'twas told ye Sir; How should you suspect it else?  Sim. 
How? cause I knew thee for a Rogue.  Da. 
As much as to say I was the Contriver on't.  Sim. 
Nothing so certain. I knew't.  Da. 
Sir you're mightily mistaken in your Man;  Sim. 
Mistaken in my Man!  Da. 
For if I go about to speak a Word, you pre●●ly think that I put upon ye.  Sim. 
Belike I lie then.  Da. 
Troth at this rate I dare scarce move my Lips to ye.  Sim. 
This I'm certain of, that there has been no h●●ly laid here.  Da. 
Are ye very certain of't? Yet for all that you'll have a Child laid at your door before you're ware on't. This, Sir, will certainly be, and remember that I told ye on't now, that if there should happen any Roguery i'th' Case, it mightned be laid to Davus' charge. I would feign have ye believe better things of Davus.  Sim. 
But how d'ye know they'll trick a Child upon us?  Da. 
I heard it, and believe it too. And there are a thousand Circumstances which make me be of that mind. For first the Gentlewoman cried she was with Child by your Son, which is found to be a mere shame. As soon as she heard of a Wedding on foot; her Maid forsooth is posted away presently for the Midwife; and for a Child over and above. But if it chance that you should not see the Child at your door, the Wedding may go on for all this.  Sim. 
How's this?— As soon as ye heard of these Plots, Pray why cou'dned Pamphilus ha' been acquainted withal.  Da. 
And who waist d'ye think but I that parted them? For the whole Town knew that he was up to the Ears in Love. Now he has set his Mind upon a Wife. As for the Business of the Child, let me alone with that. Go on with the Wedding as 've begun, Heavens prosper it I say.  Sim. 
Very well!— Now ye may go in, and wait there till I come, and get ready what's wanting.  Exit Davus. Simo 
alone. The fellow wasn't very urgent upon me to believe his Stories; and may be all he said wasn't true neither. Be it so or no, I care not a Straw: the main thing I stand upon is my Son's promise.— Well I'll go see for my Neighbour Chremes, and beg his Daughter; then if I get her, I'll have a Wedding to day in spite of their teeths. I don't question my Son's promise at all. If he draws back, I can fairly force him to't now—  Enter Chremes. 
Here comes the Man in as good time as a body could wish.— A good day to ye Neighbour Chremes.  Chr. 
O Sir, you're the Man I looked for.  Sim. 
And I you.  Chr. 
You're well met Sir,— there are those who told me they heard from your own Mouth, that this day your Son and my Daughter were to be married. Now I'm come to see whether you of they are well in their Wits.  Sim. 
Have a little patience, and you ll hear my Desires, and an Answer to your Question too.  Chr. 
Well Neighbour, let's hear't then.  Sim. 
I beg of ye for Heaven's sake, by our Friendship begun with our Childhood and increased with our Years: By your dear Daughter, and my only Son, (whose welfare depends wholly upon you) to assist me in this weighty point? and let the Match still go on, as we formerly designed.  Chr. 
Pray, Sir, no such Entreaties: As though I couldn't grant it without all this begging. D'ye think I'm not the same man as when I made the first offer? If the Match be for both their goods, let 'em be sent for out of hand. But if more harm than good be like to come on't, I'd ha' ye consider Matters impartially, as though she were your Daughter, and Pamphilus my Son.  Sim. 
'tis upon such Conditions that I desire it, and press it so forward. Nor should I ha' been so urgent, hadned the Matter required it.  Chr. 
As how I beseech ye?  Sim. 
O Sir, my Son and his Mistress are fallen out.  Chr. 
Mere Tales!  Sim. 
Believe me Neighbour 'tis true.  Chr. 
Yes Faith just as I tell ye, Love's a mere Caterwawl, where scratc Sing begets kissing.  Sim. 
Say ye so Sir, pray then let's prevent the worst now we ve fair opportunity, whilst the edge of his Appetite is taken off by Affronts and ill usage. Let's give him a Wife before these wheedling Queans by their Tricks and false Tears soften his Lovesick Mind to pity. I hope, Sir, when he's once reclaimed by the pleasant Conversation of a virtuous Wife, he'll easily wind himself out of these Mischiefs.  Chr. 
You're of this Opinion, but I am not; they'll ne'er endure to be together, and I shall be as uneasy under it.  Sim. 
But how can you know't, till 've experienced it?  Chr. 
'Tis ill buying Experience at the Expense of my Daughter.  Sim. 
Why when the worst is come to the worst, if such a thing should happen (which Heavens forbidden) they can but part. But should he once take up and mend, consider how many Advantages will happen. First I shall have my Son well settled, you an honest Son-in-Law, and your Daughter a good Husband.  Chr. 
What's all this ado for? If you're fully persuaded that all will prove for the best, God forbidden I should be your hindrance in the least.  Sim. 
Indeed Sir, I have always had a high esteem for ye.  Chr. 
But to the purpose.  Sim. 
Well Sir.  Chr. 
How come ye to know that your Son and his Mistress are fallen out?  Sim. 
Why Sir, Davus, a Privy-councillor of theirs told me so, and withal urged me to strike up the Match with all speed. And d'ye think he would ha' done't, hadn't he known my Son was willing too.— Now I think on't, you shall hear't from his own Mouth.— to Servants within So ho! within there, bid Davus come hither.—  Enter Davus to them. 
But see here he comes himself.  Dau. 
to Sim. I was just coming to you Sir.  Sim. 
Well, what's the Matter?  Da. 
Why don't ye send for the Bride, Sir; it grows late. Fawningly.  Sim. 
to Chremes. Look ye there now, d'ye hear him?— to Davus Well, Davus, Servants are slippery, and I had a fancy once that you were as likely to serve your Master a slippery trick as another body; especially in the Case of my Son's Amours.  Da. 
Lord Sir! I do such a thing?  Sim. 
I was once of that Opinion, and for fear of the worst kept something to myself which now ●ll discover to ye.  Da. 
And what may that be I pray Sir?  Sim. 
I'll tell ye, for I could now find in my heart to trust thee  Da. 
I hope you're satisfied in my Fidelity at last.  Sim. 
In short, there was nothing of Marriage i' th' Case.  Da. 
How, Sir, no Marriage?  Sim. 
No, no, 'twas but a Contrivance to feel your Pulse.  Da. 
Will ye tell me so?  Sim. 
Even just so Davus.  Da. 
Why look ye Sir, I could never comprehend this. Bless me! there's a damned reach in't.  Jeering. Sim. 
But hear me on now.— No sooner had I sent you in, whom should I meet but my Neighbour here in the very nick?—  Da. 
'Sdeath is't come to this then? Softly.  Sim. 
— I up and told him, What you told me.—  Dav 
softly. Confusion! What's this I hear?  Sim 
— I begged his Daughter, and with much ado prevailed—  Da. 
Undone, undone! Softly.  Sim 
partly hearing. How? What say ye?  Da. 
I said 'twas excellently well done.  Sim. 
As for Mr. Chremes he's ready.  Chr. 
Well I'll just step home, and put all things in order then I'll come back, and tell ye more of my mind. Exit Chremes. Davus looks simply upon Simo.  Sim. 
Now prithee Davus, seeing this is a Match wholly of thy making.—  Da. 
'Twas wholly of my making with a Pox to't. Aside.  Sim. 
— I d ha' ye take my Son in hand and help to reclaim him.  Da. 
Yes Sir, I'll do my best. Coldly.  Sim. 
That's easily done now he's upo' th' peevish pin.  Da. 
Well Sir set your Heart at rest  Sim. 
Do't then, but where's he now?  Da. 
Ten to one he's at home.  Sim. 
Well I'll step in, and tell him just what I told you. Exit Simo.  Davus 
alone. So! I shall be hanged— I ve no more to do, but straight to Prison goes poor Davus with a vengeance,— there's no crying Peccavi i'th' the Case. I've turned all Topsey-turvey, imposed upon the old Man, noosed his Son into. Matrimony; and brought a Business about, that the one never dreamed of, and the other was afraid of— This 'tis to be super-subtle! Had I sat still, and not been tampering, all had been well enough.  Enter Pamphilus at a distance. 
But look now, as the Devil would have't, yonder he comes.— I'm damned already.— What would I give for a convenient Precipice to dash my Brains out. He sneaks aside.  Pam. 
to himself. Where's the Villain that has undone me?  Da. 
Heavens! what will become of me. Aside.  Pam 
to himself. I must confess I'm well enough served, like a senseless  Fop as I was what venture my Life and Soul to the Secrecy of a prating Fool? I shall pay dear for being a Blockhead; but as I live that Dog shan't carry it off so.  Da. 
If I sea poe hanging this bout, I'll be sworn the Gallows will never have me. Aside.  Pam. 
to himself. What excuse shall I pretend to my Father? Shall I break off, when but just now I engaged myself to marry.— With what Face shall I dare to offer it?— I'm at a wretched Nonplus—  Dau. 
listening. And so am I in good Faith, though my wits are on the Tenterhooks; yet I must pretend I've that in my Head will fetch him off again, though 'twere only to put off this plaguy Business a little longer. Aside.  Pam. 
seeing Davus. Ha! Are ye there?  Da. 
'Sdeath he sees me. Softly hanging his Head.  Pam. 
Pray come hither good Mr. Rogue! what Excuse now?— Don't ye see, you Rascal, what ● miserable Condition your damned Contrivances have brought me in to? Angrily.  Da. 
But I'll soon bring ye off again.  Pam. 
You bring me off again?  Da. 
Yes Sir, without doubt.  Pam. 
Without doubt as ye did before. Scornfully.  Da. 
I hope Sir a little better too.  Pam. 
How can I credit such a Villain? Can you set a Matter entirely lost and desperate to rights again?— Very fine! what a rare fellow have I relied upon? who this day amidst a calm has raised a Storm, and forced an odious Match upon me in spite of my Teeth?— Didn't I tell you how 'twould be, you Rascal?  Dau. 
You did so, Sir.  Pam. 
What d'ye deserve for your Pains?  Da. 
A Halter I must confess.— But pray, Sir, reprieve me, till I've recovered my Senses a little I'll soon see what's to be done i' th' Case.  Pam. 
I'm sorry I han't time to give you your, due. I have scarce enough to look to myself much less to punish you. Exeunt Amio.  
The end of the Third Act.   

ACT IU.  Enter Charine by himself. 
DId ever any body believe, or butread of people so horribly base, as to take pleasure in the Miseries of others, and out of them Ruins to make their own Fortunes?— Ah is this true or no? Yes, yes! 'tis true with a vengeance. There are a brutal sort of Men that ma'te some scruple of a downright Refusal; but when the time of performance comes; they pluck the Mas● aside with trembling hands, forced to discover what they are, and give a flat Denial; then being past all shame they cry, Pray who are you Sire What are you to me Sir? Shall I resign my Mistress to you Sir? Oh Sir, I'd ha' ye know, Charity always gins at home. If ye charge them with breach of Honour, they re, not ashamed: they can blush when there's no reason for't; but when there is, they shake hands with their Modesty.— what Measures shall I take?— Shall I go to him and reason the Case with him for this Affront?— I'll give him ill Language enough.— Hold Sir (may some say) you'll be ne'er the better for't— Oh much; I shall certainly plague him to some purpose, and so ease my Mind a little that way.  He goes towards Simo ' s Door, where he's met by Pamphilus and Davus. Pam. 
Ah dear Sir, I ve most inconsiderately ruined you and myself too, except Heaven help us.  Cham 
How! Inconsiderately d'ye call it? then ye aren't to seek for an excuse. You're a fine Man o' your word indeed. Scornfully.  Pam. 
How so, Sir?  Cham 
D'ye think to catch me a second time with your Flams?  Pam. 
What d'ye mean, Sir?  Cham 
I no sooner told ye of my Passion for Madam Philumena, but you were strangely smitten with her.— What a wretch was I to judge of another's Generosity by my own?  Pam. 
You re still under a mistake, Sir.  Cham 
Were not your Joys complete enough before without bubbling me the poor Cully, and ●rilling me on with fantastic Hopes.— But there! take her for me. Very angrily,  Pam. 
I take her?— Ah Sir, you can't concieve what troubles I lie under; and to what a miserable pass this Rascal of mine has brought me by his damned Projects.  Cham 
Where's the wonder, since he took you for his Pattern.  Pam. 
I'm sure ye would'nt talk at this rate if ye knew either me, or my Circumstanccs.  Cham 
Jeeringly. Yes, yes: I know very well-some words have passed between your Father and you; and that's the reason he's so very angry with ye: yet he couldn't force ye to marry to day.  Pam. 
Nay Sir, to let ye see how little ye know my troubles, there was no Wedding to be to day, nor any thing of a Wife designed for me.  Cham 
Yes Sir, I know 'twas a voluntary Compulsion.—  Pam. 
But hold Sir, ye don't know the Business yet.  Cham 
Yes so much on't, that you're just upon having her.  Pam. 
Why d'ye rack me thus? Do but hear.— He never gave over tampering with me to tell my Father I'd marry her: Nay, he lay pressing and begging o'me, till in plain dealing I could hold out no longer.  Cham 
What He d'ye mean?  Pam. 
Why Davus, that Herald  Cham 
Who Davus?  Pam. 
'Tis Davus all over.  Cham 
How so?  Pam. 
Indeed I can't tell, unless the angry Gods to punish me, made me give ear to that Rascal.  Cham 
to Dau. Is this true Sirrah?  Dau. 
Ay too true.  Cham 
What say ye Villain? Ha!— The Gallows reward ye for't.— Now answer me; if all the Devils in Hell were mustered together to force a Match upon him, could 've given fitter advice than this?  Dau. 
I confess Sir, I have been a little out-witted, but yet I don't despair.  Cham 
Very likely. Jeeringly.  Dau. 
The last Nail would'nt go, but we'll drive one that shall; unless you fancy a bad Beginning always makes a bad Ending.  Pam. 
to Dau. Right Boy; I know if you'll but set your wits to work, you'll bring me two Weddings out of one. Jeeringly.  Dau. 
Sir, I'm bound, as your Servant, to trudge for ye Night and Day, with might and main, even to venture my Neck, as long as I can do you any good. For what happens cross you ought to pardon. Tho'my Measures were broke, yet I did my best; if you can find how to do't better, I'll be gone.  Pam. 
With all my heart.— But first put me in the Condition you found me.  Pam. 
I'll do't Sir.  Pam. 
But out of hand then.  Dau. 
Hold ' Is't!— Glycerie's Door opens there.  Pam. 
What's that to the purpose?  Dau. 
There must I make my Plot.  Pam. 
What's your Plot to seek? Ha!  Dau. 
But now I'dad I've hit on't.  
Enter Mysis from Glycerie ' s House.  Mys. 
to Glycerie within. Well! this same Pumphilus of yours, I ll go hunt him up, and bring him along with me, if he be above ground— But my dea● don't you lie fretting yourself in the mean time? She comes from the door.  Pam. 
Oh Mysis!  Mys. 
What's the matter?— turning about Oh Mr. Pamphilus you're well met.  Pam. 
Why, what's the matter?  Mys. 
I am to charm you from my Mistress, that if you have any Love for her, you'd come to her presently; she says she longs strangely to see ye.  Pam. 
Alas, unhappy Man!— My misfortunes come one upo'th neck of another— to Davus Must we two now be plagued upon your account? I am sent for only because she heard of the Wedding.  Cham 
pointing to Davus. Hadned this Gentleman been tampering, how well and quiet might all ha' been?  Dau. 
Very well! He's not mad enough himself, but you must make him worse. Aside to Charine.  Mys. 
to Pamphilus. And truly, Sir, that's it which makes my poor Mistress take on so.  Pam. 
Mysis! I swear to thee by all that's Sacred, I'll never leave this Creature tho' I should lose all the Friends I have in the whole world for't. This is she I wished for; and my wishes are granted; our Humours are well enough suited. He that offers to divide us I'll ha' nothing to do with him, Death, and nothing but Death shall do't.—  Mys. 
I'm revived again.  Pam. 
The Oracle never spoke a truer thing.— If the breaking off this Match could be done by any body but me, I should be glad on't, but if that can't be, I'll even make a bold push on't, and own the thing.— What think ye of me? To Charine.  Cham 
Just as deep i'th' Dirt, as I i'th' Mire.  Dau. 
My Brains are at work.  Cham 
to Davus. Thou'rt a bold Britain.  Pam. 
to Dau. I know what you'd be at Jeeringly.  Dau. 
Depend on me, I'll do your Business to your hand. Pam. It must be presently then.  Dau. 
I have't in my Head, Sir, I have't.  Cham 
What's that I prithee?  Dau. 
Your Pardon Sir, I'm working for my Master, not for you; therefore don't mistake me.  Cham 
Well, I'm satisfied.  Pam. 
Well, what will ye do now?  Dau. 
Come, come, I want time for my Business, and mustned spend it in prating; to deal plainly with ye, you do but hinder me, and I had rather ha' your Room than your Company.  Pushing them. Pam. 
Well I'll to my Mistress. Exit Pamphilus.  Dau. 
staring on Charine. Well, what's your Business here? which way are you santring?  Cham 
Shall I tell ye the very truth?—  Dau. 
interrupting him. Yes, yes, why not?— we shall have a Speech on't.  Cham 
Prithee what shall poor I do?  Dau. 
Very pleasant I' faith! Arned ye content that I've put off the wedding, and reprieved ye for one short day?  Cham 
But yet Davus—  Shaking his Head. Dau. 
interrupting. What but yet?  Cham 
That I may but marry her.  Da. 
A pleasant Freak!  Cham 
Order the Matter so that you may come to my House there if possible. Pointing to his House.  Da. 
What should I come for I've no Business.  Cham 
But if something should happen—  Dau. 
interrupting. Well, well, I'll come.  Cham 
If there be any occasion, I shall be at home.  Exit Charine. Dau. 
Mysis, I must go out a little, do but you stay till I come back. Mys. What for?  Da. 
For a certain Reason that I know.  Mys. 
Prithee be quick then.  Da. 
I'll be here in a trice.  Exit Davus. Mysis 
alone. Is there nothing in this world that a Man can call his own?— Blessed Heaven? I took this Mr. Pamphilus to be the very Heart and Soul of my Mistress, a Friend, a Lover, and in effect a Husband, and all in one, and ready to serve her upon all occasions: And yet after all, what Miseries does this unfortunate Woman endure for his sake? And how much greater is her present Trouble, than all her former Satisfaction.  Enter. Enter Davus with Glycerie's Child in his Arms. 
O here comes Davus again.— Prithee good Boy what have we here?— discovering the Child Where d'ye carry that Child?—  Da. 
Now Mysis for one cast of thy Skill and Cunning at a Pinch.  Mys. 
What Plot's next Davus?  Da. 
Here, take the Child quickly, and lay it at our Door.  Mys. 
Prithee what on the cold Ground?  Da. 
Can't ye take some of those Herbs there, and lay under it?  Mys. 
Well and why can't ye do't yourself?  Da. 
Why if my Master put me to swear whether I laid it there or no, I may do't with a safe Conscience.  Mys. 
I understand ye. But pray how came this sudden qualm upon you?— Give it me then She takes the Child and moves towards Simo ' s Door.  Da. 
Prithee go faster and be back again in a moment, that I may give ye your Lesson.—  
Chremes appears at a great distance.  
But Oh the Devil!  Mys. 
starting back. What's the Matter now?  Da. 
Yonder's the Bride's Father; and I must even go another way to work now.  Aside. Mys. 
I can't imagine what you'd have.  Da. 
I'll make as if I came from that way there o'th' Right-hand.— Be sure to put in a word or two upon occasion to make our Stories hang together.  Mys. 
O'my Conscience I know your designs no more than a Post.— If I can do you any Service (which you know better than I) I'll stay where I am, without putting any stop to your Business.  
As Chremes comes towards Mysis, Davus sneaks to the other side  Chr. 
to himself. Every thing's ready now for my Daughter's Wedding, and 've nothing to do more but to invite the Guests.— seeing the Child at the Door. But what have we here in the Name of Goodness?— Goes nearer, and uncovers the Child's Face. A Child upo' my Life.— Hark ye Gossip! Did you lay this Child here? to Mysis.  Mys. 
looking fearfully about. Ha! What's become of him?  Chr. 
What are ye Tongue-tied?  Mys 
Alas! he's not to be seen.— O dear heart, the Fellow has left me and is vanished.  
Davus appears seemingly out of Breath, pretending he sees not Chremes, and bawls as loud as he can.  Da. 
Bless me! what a Bustles yonder i'th' Market!— There's a squabble indeed— then Corn is confoundedly dear.— Troth I ha' nothing else to say.  softly. Mys. 
to Davus. Prithee what must I be left alone for thus?  Dau. 
looking upon the Child. Heyday! what Farce is here?— turning to Mysis Oh ho! whence came this Bantling? Pray who brought it hither? He winks on her.  Mys. 
not understanding. What's the Fellow a Fool to ask me such a Question?  Da. 
Who should I ask? there's no body else here to ask?  Chr. 
I wonder whence it should come? Aside.  Da. 
Come will ye give me an Answer or no?  Angrily. Mys. 
Oh Lord!  Dau. 
softly to her To the Right-hand a little.  Mys. 
The Man is moped, waned it yourself?—  Dau. 
softly. If ye offer to speak one word from the Point, at your Peril be it. Holding up his Finger.  Mys. 
Die threaten me?  Dau. 
aloud. Whence came this Child?— softly speak out Wench.  Mys. 
From our House.  Dau. 
aloud. Ha', ha', ha',— 'tis not wonder if a Strumpet be so impudent.  Chr. 
I'm mistaken if this bened the Andrian's Maid.  Aside. Da. 
Can ye find no body else to make sport with?  Chr. 
I came in the very critical Minute.  Aside. Da. 
You'd best make haste, and be packing with the Child from the Door.— As she is about it, he speaks softly. But stay tho; see that ye don't budge from this place.  Holding up his Finger. Mys. 
Shame take ye for me, ye do so fright me.  Dau. 
aloud. Is't you I speak to or no?  Mys. 
Why what would the man have?  Da. 
Have with a Pox? Come tell me whose Child 've laid there, once for all, tell me.  Mys. 
You don't know I warrant ye.  Da. 
A fig for what I know; do you tell me what I ask.  Mys. 
'Tis yours among ye!  Dau. 
aloud. Which of ours? All of us didn't get it.  Mys. 
Why 'tis Mr Pamphilus'.  Da. 
Zookers! what my Master Pamphilus'.  Very Angrily. Mys. 
Very fine! why isn't it?  Chr. 
I was always i'th' right to be against this Match.  Aside. Dau. 
very loud. This is a Roguery deserves the Lash.  Mys. 
Why d'ye bawl so?  Da. 
Why didn't I see this very Child brought to your House last Night?  Mys. 
Oh thou brazen Face!  Da. 
I'm sure I saw Gammer Cauthara as big as she could tumble with something she carried.  Mys. 
Well 'twas a Blessing, that many creditable women were at my Mistress' Labour.  Dau. 
I'm sure she did not know her Man for whom she designed this Trick. I warrant, said they, when Chremes sees the Child, he'll not part with his Daughter. But i'faith he'll do't the sooner for that.  Chr. 
I'faith but he won't tho. Aside.  Dau. 
Now therefore in plain English, if ye don't take away the Bastard, I'll kick it into the middle of the Street, and take ye and set your A— in the Kennel.  Mys. 
You're either drunk or mad sure.  Dau. 
How one piece of Roguery brings out another: Now they begin to buzz it about, that this Glycerie is a Citizen of Athens,—  Chr. 
How? Aside.  Dau. 
— So that the Law will make him marry her in spite of his teeth.  Mys. 
Under favour, sweet Sir, Is she not a Citizen?  Chr. 
I had like to have fooled fair, why I had almost noosed myself. Aside.  Dau. 
Whose Tongue's that? turning about to Chremes O Sir, you're come in the luckiest time that can be.— Pray Sir hear me.—  Chr. 
I've heard all. Dau. How all?  Chr. 
Why all from the beginning.  Dau. 
've heard it then?— Fine Rogueries on foot! Now should'nt this same Jade be Carted?— to Mysis Don't think that poor Davus is the Man you play upon. Here's the Gentleman himself. pointing to Chremes.  Mys. 
Ah dear! Indeed Sir, an't please your Worship, I han't spoke one word of a Lye.  Chr. 
I know the whole Business.— But is my Neighbour Simo within?  Dau. 
I think so Sir. Exit Chremes.  
Davus goes to play with Mysis.  Mys. 
Hands off Varlet! If I don't do your Errand to my Mistress, ne'er trust me.  Dau. 
Oh thou silly Soul thou dosned know how the Case stands.  Mys. 
How should I?  Dau. 
Why this is the Bride's Father, and without all this, he couldn't ha' known what we'd have him.  Mys. 
Cou'dned ye give me an Item before?  Dau. 
Pshaw! as if there were no difference between what Nature does briskly on a sudden, and what's done by dull direction.  
Enter at a distance Crito in a Country habit.  Cri. 
to himself. Why I was told that our Chrysis lived somewhere down this Lane. And she found there was more to be got by Jaderyin the Town than Honesty in the Country. But now as she's dead I'm Heir at Law to her Goods. Where shall I ask about her?— O there are Folks.— goes up to them. By your leave I pray.  Mys. 
Goodnow, who's that? Isn't it old Crito, Mrs. Chrysis' Kinsman?— The very same.  Cri. 
O Mysis! I'm glad to see thee.  Mys. 
And I you, good Crito.  Cri. 
And is it so with poor Chrysis, Ha?—  Sorrowfully. Mys. 
Yes indeed; she has left us to our sorrows.  Sighing. Crit. 
Pray how do you do?— How goes the World? Pretty hoddy, Ha?  Mys. 
What we?— They that can't do as they would, must even do as they may, as the saying is.  Cri. 
How does young Glycerie? Has she found her Relations here?  Mys. 
Ah, would she had.  Cri. 
What not yet?— Then I've brought my Hogs to a fair Market. 'Sbud if I had known so much beforehand, the De'el a foot would I ha' stirred out o' my House. For she passed with every body for Chrysis' Sister, and she's now in possession of what she had. Now for me, that know no body, to hamper myself in Lawsuits, there are Examples enough in the world to keep me from burning my fingers. And, now I think on't, she may get some spruce Gallant to stand by her, for she was in the Teens, let me tell ye, when she went from us, the people will cry out, This is a beggarly Rascal, that sets up only a forged Title. And then a body would make some Conscience too of turning the poor Girl a begging.  Mys. 
Go thy ways honest Crito in troth; thou'rt the same Crito still.  Cri. 
Come bring me to her however; since I'm come so far, I'll see the poor Rogue.  Mys. 
With all my heart.  Exit Crito and Mysis with the Child. Dau. 
looking carefully about. I'll follow 'em, but wou'dned for the world that the old Man should see me this bout. Exit after them  
End of the Fourth Act.   

ACT V.  Chremes and Simo. Chr. 
entering. COme Mr. Simo, 've had proof enough in all Conscience of my Friendship to ye; and I've run risk enough for you: Therefore pray let us have no more of these Importunities. I ha' complied with ye now so long, that I was within a very little of undoing my Daughter.  Sim. 
Nay Sir, I must more and more entreat you and adjure ye, that you'd make good all your Promises with your Effects.  Chr, 
But pray see Sir, how unreasonable your Passion makes ye? For as long as you can obtain your own Ends, you don't regard common Civility, nor well consider what you'd have yourself. If ye did, I'm sure you wou'dned desire to serve me after this rate.  Sim. 
After what rate pray?  Chr. 
Ah Sir, d'ye ask that Question? 've put me upon marrying my Daughter to a wild Spark o'th' Town, that's pre-ingaged and a Marriage-hater, to have 'em always wrangling, and forced to part in a fortnight's time; thus my Daughter's to be mortified; and your Son t have the Benefit of it. I promised ye and began to perform with ye, whilst the matter would bear it; and since 'twill bear no longer, ye must ha' Patience. His Mistress they say is a free Citizen, and there's a Child got between 'em; therefore pray don't give us any further disturbance.  Sim. 
For Goodness sake, Sir, don't trouble your Head with such idle Stories. I tell ye 'tis their chief Interest to make him as bad they can; this is all a Trick from one end to the other to break off the Match; now do but take away the Cause of this, and the Effect ceases of itself.  Chr. 
You're out indeed Sir; for I just now saw her Maid and Davus quarrelling about it.  Sim. 
I know the trick.  Chr. 
Nay they were in earnest, for they little thought of my seeing 'em  Sim. 
That I believe too, for I had an Item of this Stratagem from Davus; and I thought t'have given ye a hint on't, but something put it out of my Head.  
Enter Davus just appearing at Glycerie's Door.  Dau. 
to them within.— 'Tis my Royal will and pleasure, that no Grief come within these walls to day.—  Chr. 
Look ye, yonder's your Man Davus.  Sim. 
Whence comes the Rogue? In a fret.  Dau. 
to them within. Let her rely upon my Worship and this honest Stranger.—  Sim. 
listening. What's there now a brewing. Aside.  Dau. 
coming from the Door. Well, for the Man, the nick of Time, and the Encounter take 'em all together, never was any thing so pat to our purpose. Aside.  Sim. 
partly overhearing. Ah damned Rogue! Who does he commend so? Aside.  Dau. 
to himself. Now Devil do thy worst; we are as safe as a Thief in a Mill.  Sim. 
Why don't I speak to him? Aside  Dau. 
perceiving Simo. 'S death here's my Master, what had I best do? Softly.  Sim. 
to Dau. Oh how is't with your Worship?  Scornfully. Dau. 
O my good Masters! Simo and Chremes both. Why all things are ready within. Very briskly.  Sim. 
've taken a world of pains I done t doubt. Jeeringly.  Da. 
Now, Sir, send for the Bride as soon as ye please. Leeringly.  Sim. 
Very well!— there's nothing but that wanting.— But good Sir, let me ask ye one Question.— What business had you at that House Sirrah? pointing to Glycerie's House.  Da. 
Who I, Sir? Sim. Ay you Sir.  Da. 
Meaning me Sir?  Sim. 
Yes, you Sir, if ye must be told so often.  Da. 
Why Sir, 'twasn't three minutes since I went in—  Sim. 
Sirrah, do I ask ye how long since? Angrily  Dau. 
— With my Master Pamphilus.  Sim. 
hastily. And is he there then?— O my Torture!— Ye Hang-dog, didn't ye tell me they were broken all to pieces?  Da. 
So they are Sir.  Sim. 
What should he do there then? Hastily.  Chr. 
What d'ye think Sir?— Only t'other brush of quarrelling. Jeeringly.  Da. 
Ah Mr Chremes, there's more i'th' Wind; I'll tell ye perhaps one of the foulest Stories you ever met withal.— pointing to Glycerie's House Here's a certain old Man just come to Town, whence the Lord knows, a shrewd wary Fellow, I'll warrant him; if ye did but see him you'd say he's no ordinary Personage; for he looks as grave as an Alderman, and talks like a Judge.  Sim. 
What News from him pray? Hastily.  Da. 
Nay, none to speak of— Only I remember he was a saying—  Sim. 
Well but what was he a saying?  Da. 
— That he certainly knows Glycerie to be a Citizen of Athens.  Sim. 
Soho! Dromo! Dromo! In a fury.  Da. 
What a Devil's to do now? Aside.  Sim Dromo 
I say! Louder.  Da. 
But hear me, Sir,— In a fright.  Sim. 
Dog! Speak but another word— Why Dromo, Dromo! Louder yet.  Da. 
upon his knees. I beseech ye Sir, hear me Enter Dromo.  Dro. 
to Simo. Your pleasure Sir.  Sim. 
Take this Rascal in, and truss him up imimediately. In a fury.  Dro. 
Who d'ye mean Sir?  Sim. 
Davus here.  Dau. 
Why good Sir, why?  Sim. 
'Tis my pleasure— to Dromo take him away I say.  Da. 
Why what have I done Sir?  Sim. 
Away with him. to Dromo.  Da. 
If you catch me in a Lie, cut my Throat.  Sim. 
stopping his Ears. I'll not hear a word— I'll put your Rogueship out of Homour.  Da. 
Notwithstanding it be true.  Sim. 
Notwithstanding— do you to Dromo take him and fetter him. And d'ye hear, let him be tied Neck and Heels like a Beast as he is— Away.— Exit Dromo leading in Davus.  
As I'm a living Soul, Sirrah, I'll make ye to know this day what 'tis for a Servant to put tricks upon his Master, and for a Son to make sport with his Father. Walking about in a great Passion.  Chr. 
For Heaven's sake Sir moderate your Passion.  Sim. 
Ah Sir, when it comes to the Duty of a Son, that's a tender point: Don't ye pity me?— that I should take so much pains for such an ungracious wretch?— Weeps looking towards Glycerie's House. Soho! Pamphilus!— out of your fulsome Nest.— Ha' ye no Grace left?  Enter Pamphilus. Pam. 
Who calls there?— seeing Simo Oh 'tis my Father. I'm Planet struck.  Sim. 
What sayest thou, the most ungracious— Very angrily.  Chr. 
O fie Sir, leave this ill Language, and argue the case calmly.  Sim. 
As tho' the worst Language wasn't good enough for him.— to Pamphilus and do you say now that Glycerie is a Citizen?  Pam. 
'Tis so reported, Sir.  Sim. 
Reported, Jackanapes?— O prodigious Impudence! was ever such an unthinking Coxcomb? Does he repent of any thing he has done? Nay has he Grace so much as to blush at it?— Is he so little Master of himself as to set his Heart upon such an infamous woman without regard either to the Customs or Laws of his Country, or to the will and Pleasure of his Father?  Pam. 
Oh me! Sighing.  Sim. 
O Pamphilus, are ye at last convinced?— then, then indeed you should ha' thought o''is, when first ye took your swing in all that's base, than you should ha' cried, Oh me!— walks about in a rage But what do I mean? Why should I plague and torment myself? Or why cark myself in my old Age for a mad hot headed Fool? Shall he play the Puppy and must I suffer for't?— E'en let him have her, make his best of her, and Kennel together.  Pam. 
Dear Father!— In a soft Tone.  Sim. 
interrupting. Why dear Father? As tho' you stood in need of such a Father.— 've got your House, your Wife and Children, and the dear Father ne'er the wiser; 've brought your Cheat to prove her a Citizen.— 've got the day much good  do ye.  Pam. 
Pray hear me one word Sir.  Sim. 
What can you say for yourself? Turning away.  Chr. 
Good Sir, give him the hearing.  Sim. 
I hear him? What should I hear him for Mr. Chremes?  Chr. 
But you may let him speak tho.  Sim. 
Let him speak then, who hinders him?  Pam. 
in a soft tone. Sir, I confess I loved, and if to love be Sin, I confess that too.— But now dear Sir I'm at your disposal, and submit to whatsoever you shall think fit or command. Would ye ha' me marry one woman, and part with another: I must bear either, as well as I can. Only thus much let me beg of ye, that you wou'dn t believe that I suborned this old Man: Let me but clear myself of that and bring him face to face.  Sim. 
Bring him?  Pam. 
Pray Sir let me.  Chr. 
'Tis nothing but reason, pray let him.  Pam. 
Sir, I beseech ye done t deny me.  Sim. 
Well: let it be so then.—  Exit Pamphilus. 
You see Sir, I'm content with any thing as long as I bened grossly imposed upon.  Chr. 
A small Punishment serves for a great Fault, between Father and Son.  Re-enter Pamphilus with Crito. Cri. 
entering.— Well without any more words now; for three Reasons are as good as three thousand. I ll do't either for your own sake, or for Truth's sake, or for poor Glycerie's sake, that I've a great kindness for.  Chr. 
Is that old Crito of Andro?— the very same.— Troth Crito I'm glad to see thee. What wind blew thee to Athens?  Cri. 
A chance one.— Is this Mr. Simo?  Chr. 
Yes.  Sim. 
D'ye ask for me?— Hark ye Friend,  
Ha' you the face to say, that Glycerie is a Citizen of Athens?  Cri. 
And ha' ye the Face to deny it? Pertly.  Sim. 
've your Lesson without Book I perceive.  Cri. 
Why that pray? Surliiy.  Sim. 
Would ye know?— Don't ye deserve to l e laid by the Heels for this? Are you come here to trapan and inveigle raw young Gentlemen? And to feed their Fancies with fine Flams, and gay Promises?—  Cri. 
interrupting What's the man mad? Surlily.  Sim. 
Then you make Matches between them and their Whores together. Crito stairs and wonders at them.  Pam. 
Alas! how do I tremble for fear the oed man shoudned stand his ground. Aside.  Chr. 
to Simo. If ye knew this man as well as ●, you'd be of another mind. Why he's as honest ● man as e'er broke Bread.  Sim. 
The Devil's Broker! He honest?— to come just i'th' nick on the Wedding day, to set up for an Evidence, and was never here before in his whole Life? well must his testimony carry't?  Pam. 
If I werned afraid of my Father, I ve that at my Tongue's end would help him out at a d●●● lift. Aside,  Sim. 
A Knight o'th' post!  Cri. 
What does be call me? Walks about in a h●ss.  Chr. 
'Tis his way, you'd better let him alone.  Cri. 
Let him look to't. If he pretends to talk what e'er he has a mind to, I'll make him hear something that he has no mind to. to Simo. Pish! Do I hinder or care a Fart for your Weddings? what can't ye bear your Misfortunes like a man?— whether I spoke true or false you ll know immediately.— turning to Chremes. Once upon a time d'ye see, there was a certain Athenian Merchant cast away at Andro, and that little Girl with him; this man, being in want, had the hap to apply himself to Chrysiss Father.—  Sim. 
interrupting. Now he gins a fine Tale.  Chr. 
Pray let him go on.  Cri. 
Why does he put me out? Angrily.  Cor. 
On with your Story.  Cri. 
Well! Now this same Crysis' Father, (D●●e mind?) was my Kinsman. And there did I hear the Man himself say, that he was a Merchant of Athens; in short, there he died.  Chr. 
His Name?  Cri. 
His Name?— Let me see, Oh his Name was Phania.  Chr. 
Bless me! I'm in a cold sweat. Aside.  Cri. 
Why truly Sir, I think they call him Phania. However, this I'm sure of, he said he was a ●amnusian;—  Chr. 
Oh Heavens! Aside.  Cri. 
— And a world of people in Andro heard as much as I.  Chr. 
aside. Would it were no worse than I wish for.— But prithee Crito tell me. What said he about this Girl? Did he say she was his own?  Cri. 
No Sir.  Chr. 
Whose then pray?  Cri. 
His Brother's I think.  Chr. 
O' my Soul she's mine then.  Cri. 
What d'ye say, Sir?  Sim. 
How's this? what say ye? Hastily.  Pam. 
Courage Pamphilus, Courage! Aside.  Sim. 
What make ye believe it so readily?  Chr. 
Why this Phania was my Brother.  Sim. 
I know't: I was well acquainted with him.  Chr. 
I'th' time o th' late Wars he fled for't, and follow'd me into Asia, but was afraid to leave my Daughter behind him. Now Sir, this is the first news I ve heard of him ever since.  Pam. 
Methinks I'm in another world. My Mind's distracted twixt Fear and Hope, Joy and Wonder at such a sudden Blessing. Aside.  ●●m. 
I m glad upon several accounts she's found 〈◊〉 your Daughter.  Pam. 
I believe, Sir, 'tis true.  Chr. 
But hark ye Crito there's one scruple yet that makes me uneasy.  Pam. 
Would you and your Scruples were hanged together. This is hunting for a Knot in a Bulrush.  Aside. Cri. 
What's that Sir?  Chr. 
The Name won't do.  Cri. 
Truly she had another Name when she was a little one.  Chr. 
Prithee what is't? Don't ye remember?  Cri. 
I'm hammering at it. He studies upon.  Pam. 
aside. Shall I suffer his shallow Brain 〈◊〉 stop the Current of my Joys, when I can cure 〈◊〉 with a word speaking? No I ll not suffered D'ye hear Mr. Chremes! Passibula is the Name you want.  Cri. Chr. together, 
Ay, that's it, that's it. The very same.  Pam. 
I had it from her own Mouth a thousand times.  Sim. 
Truly this is good News for all on's, and I hope you think so too. to Chremes.  Chr. 
As I hope to be saved 'tis true.  Pam. 
to Simo. And what's to be done next Sir?  Sim. 
Why now we are all friends again.  Pam. 
The best of Fathers!— I suppose Me Chremes will allow us to be in statu quo.  Chr. 
And all the Reason i'th' world, unless your Father's against all.  Pam. Sim. together, 
I'm sure he's not. I agree to't.  Chr. 
Mr Pamphilus, you shall have two thousand Pounds with her.  Pam. 
I'm satisfied Sir.  Chr. 
Well I'll to my poor Girl in an instant— Come, Crito, go you along with me, for I make a doubt whether she knows me or no.  Exeunt Crito and Chremes. Sim. 
And hadn't ye better send for her now?  Pam. 
I think 'twere better, and that shall be Davis' business.  Sim. 
But that can't be.  Pam. 
Why so Sir?  Sim. 
Because he's a little engaged  Pam. 
As how Sir?  Sim. 
Why he's bound Neck and Heels.  Pam. 
Ah Sir, 'twasn't well done.  Sim. 
I'm sure I ordered it to be well done.  Merrily. Pam. 
Pray, Sir, let him be undone then.  Sim. 
Well, let it be so then.  Pam. 
But immediately Sir, if you please.  Sim. 
I'll in and about it.  Pam. 
A blessed and happy days work! Ex. Simo.  Enter Charine at a distance. Cham 
to himself. Well I'll go to see how squares go with Mr. Pamphilus.— Oh yonder he is. Observes him.  Pam. 
Some may be apt to think my Heart is far From what my Lips do utter, but even Now, Now 'tis I'm Conscious what I says most true. That Gods themselves would not immortal be, Were not their Joys like them immortal too.— And now methinks I'm all encircled round With Heavenly Bliss, if no Left handed God Come in between and dash my sweets with sour. Oh for a Friend to whom I might relate This blessed Change to make't the more complete.  Cham 
What's the meaning of these Reptures?  Enter Davus at a distance. Pam. 
Oh yonder's Davus, the Man o'th' whole Earth I could have wished for; for I'm sure there is not a Soul can more hearty relish my Enjoyments.  Dau. 
to himself. Where should a man light of this same Pamphilus now?  Pam. 
Oh Davus!  Dau. 
not seeing him. Who art thou for a man?  Pam. 
'Tis I old Rock!  Dau. 
turning about. What you Sir?  Pam. 
Ay ye don't know what good Fortune I ve met withal.  Da. 
No Faith! But I know to my sorrow what Fortune I've met withal. Shrugging his shoulders.  Pam. 
Ay Boy that I know too.  Da. 
Just as the world goes. Bad News always flies faster than good.  Pam. 
My dearest has found out her Parents.  Dau. 
Before George 'tis brave. Merrily.  Cham 
listening. Bless me! Aside.  Pam. 
And her Father is one of our great Cronies.  Da. 
Who's that prey?  Pam. 
No less than Mr Chremes.  Da. 
Spoken like a Cherubin!  Pam. 
I've now nothing to do but to marry her, and—  Cham 
The Man dreams of what he has a mind to waking. Aside.  Pam. 
Then for the Child Davus—  Da. 
No more of him. I'll warrant ye he'll come to be a Hero at last.  Cham 
going to them. I'm a made Man, if all this be true,— I'll e'en speak with 'em. Aside.  Pam. 
Who goes there?— O dear Charine, you're come i' th' luckiest time that could be.  Cham 
I m very well, pleased—  Pam. 
How! Ha' ye heard the News then?  Cham 
Every Syllable.— Well I hope won't forget your old Friend on your Wedding day. Mr. Chremes is now your own, if you'll but say the word, I'm sure he'll do't.  Pam. 
I ll warrant ye, not forget ye.— IT would be too long to wait Mr. Chremes' coming, let's even go to my Mistress where we shall be sure to find him.— But do you Davus go home, and send Company to remove her to ours.— What makes ye stand like a Post?— why don't ye move?  Dau. 
I'm going Sir.—  Exeunt Pamphilus and Charine. Davus turns to the Spectators. 
Gallants, You must not expect their return, for the Match and every thing else will be made up within Doors.— One Clap, good Gentlemen.   
The End of the Fair Andrian.   

The Eunuch. A COMEDY, Acted at the Feast of Cybele, WHEN L. Postumius Albinius and L. Cornelius Merula were Curule Edil's, By the Company of L. Ambivius Turpio, and L. Attilius of Preneste.  
Flaccus made free by Claudius, Composed the Music, which was performed on two Right-handed FLUTES.  
It was taken from the GREEK of Menander;  
Acted twice under the Consulship of M. Valerius, and C. Fannius.  
A. U. C. 593. before Christ 156.   

Dramatis Personae.  

MEN.  
Laches, Father to Phedrie, and Cherea.  
Phedrie, His Eldest Son, a Gentleman of a soft and easy Temper, fond in Love with That's, whom he keeps.  
Cherea, His younger Brother, a hot, wild, amorous Youth, wantonly in Love with Pamphila.  
Antipho, A young Gent. Cherea ' s Companion and Confident.  
Chremes, A young Country Squire, somewhat blunt in Speech and Behaviour, and unacquainted with the Tricks of the Town.  
Thraso. A Proud, Selfconceited, Pedantic, Bragging, Hectoring, Clownish Officer; A Pretender to Thais, and one that believes himself a great Wit, and a Man of Courage, when at the same time he's both Coward and Coxcomb.  
Gnatho, The Parasite, a hanger on of the Captains; a crafty, sly, insinuating wheadling, buffooning Fellow, always extolling the Captain's Wit and Valour, and by an ingenious equivocating sort of Flattery, abusing the Captain to the very Face.  
Parmeno, Servant to Phedrie, and his Counsellor, a bold, cunning, intriguing Fellow, and a downright Woman-hater.  
●●●us, The Eunuch.  
Sanga, Servant to Thraso.   

WOMEN.  
Thais, A Noble Courtesan, kept by Phedrie, a good natured Creature, of a flattering, insinuating, winning disposition.  
Pythia, Her Maid very busy and faithful, a mortal Enemy to Parmeno.  
Doria, Another Servant to Thais.  
Sophrona, A Nurse.   

MUTES.  
Simalio, Dorax, Syriscus, Servants to the Captain.   
Scene, ATHENS,  
The Time Six or Seven Hours.   

The EUNUCH.  

ACT I.  
SCENE, The Street before Simon's Door. TIME, The Forenoon.  Phedrie attended by Parmeno. Phe. 
entering. WHAT's to be done now? Shan't I go to her?— What not now, when she sends for me so kindly?— Or shall I resolve never to put up the Affronts of a Jilting Mistress?— She shut me out; now she invites me in— Go with a Pox?— No that I won't, though she'd beg it on her Knees.  Angrily. Par. 
Troth Sir, if you could hold out at this rate, 'twould be the best and bravest thing you ever did: but if ye begin upo' th' Huff, and your Heart not serve ye to go through with it; if you faint i'th' Enterprise, and go before you're sent for, or so much as reconciled, and sneakingly tell her, You're so entirely devoted to her, as not to live an hour without her, your business is done to all Intents and Purposes. She'll ride you to death when she has you at mercy.— Wherefore I'd ha' you be twice advised before it be too late. For alas Sir, what will reason or moderation signify in a Case that will bear neither: For Love you know is strangely whimsical, containing Affronts, Jealousies, Jars, Parleys, Wars, than Peace again. Now for you to ask Advice to love by, is all one as if you ask advice to run mad by.— As for your present Resolutions while your Blood is up, What go to her? When a Rival's preferred? Myself refused? Even Entrance denied me? ne'er persuade me to 't; I'll die first. I'll make her know I'm none of her Cully. Why in good faith Sir, one pitiful hypocritical Drop of a Tear, which this Creature can hardly for her Soul squeeze out of her Eyes with all her scrubbing, will confound all this bluster, bring you to your whining Peccavi, and make you submit to her Ladyships' mercy.  Phe. 
Oh horrid shame!— Now I see she's a cursed Jilt, and I a miserable Fool; I'm sick on't, ●et I die with Love; then I perish with my Knowledge and Senses about me, both living and looking on. And I know not what to do.  Par. 
What should you do Sir, but free your self from her as cheap as you can? If you can't ●●aw the Stake fairly, make the best of a bad time, and never stand vexing yourself for the better.  Phe. 
D'ye think that's the best way?  Par. 
Ay Sir, if you know the best way.— Add no more Troubles to those that Love has brought only; but bear what's already befallen ●● like a Man.—  
Enter Thais at some distance.  
Oh yonder comes the Cater-pillar that spoils all our ●aivest, and leaves us to starve. Aside.  Thais 
to herself. Unhappy woman! I am very much afraid that Phedrie should take it worse, or otherwise than I intended, that I did not let him in yesterday.  Phe. 
Ah Parmeno! I'm all over in a cold sweat at the very sight of her.  Par. 
Brisk up Sir! To her I say, she carries Fire enough to warm ye with a vengeance  Tha. 
overhearing. How now Phedrie! What are you here? And waiting at the Door too? why didn't ye come in without any more ado?  Par. 
The De'el a word's here of shutting the Door upon us. Aside.  Tha. 
What Speechless my Dear?  Phe. 
Well asked Madam! for these Doors were always wide open to me, and I the highest in your Ladyship's Favours. Scornfully.  Tha. 
Let these things pass my Dear. Clapping him on the Cheek with her Fan.  Ph. 
angrily. How! Pass!— more mildly. Ah Thais, Thais, would that you and I did but love equally, and went an even pace: that what 've done might trouble you as much as me: or that I might concern myself as little at it, as you do.  Tha. 
interrupting. Prithee don't fret thyself my pretty Phedrie, for by this light twasned because I loved or cared for any body more than thy dear self, but as the case stood 'twas a thing not to be avoided.  Par. 
Likely enough: that's usual.— She poor Soul shut him out of doors out of stark Love and Kindness. Jeeringly.  Tha. 
to Par. Say ye so Parmeno?— Well, well, go on:— to Phe. but prithee my Dear, hear but why I sent for ye.  Phe. 
We'll hear ye for once.  Tha. 
First let me know, whether this Man here can keep Counsel.  Par. 
Meaning me Madam?— The rarest Fellow i th' world at it; but we must enter into Articles about keeping your Secrets; if the Story be true, I am as mute as a Fish; but if it be a falsity, a Foppery, or a Flame, 'twill out in an instant, I'm full of holes, and run like a Seive. Therefore pray Madam, not a word of a Lie as you hope for Secrecy.  Tha. 
My Mother was born at Samo, but lived at Rhodes.  Par. 
Mum, mum for that.  Aside. Tha. 
There it was that a certain Merchant presented her with a fine young Girl Kidnapped from Attica.  Phe. 
Was she a Gentlewoman?  Tha. 
I suppose so: We couldn't tell for a certain. She told us her Parents Names; as for her Country, and other Tokens she forgot, nor could it be otherwise expected because of her Age. The Merchant added withal, that he understood by the Pirates (of whom he bought her) that she was stolen from Sunio hard by Athens— No sooner did my Mother take charge on her, but she gave her the best Education she could, and bred her up like her own Child: So that we were generally taken for Sisters. In company with that Stranger (the only person I was then engaged withal) did I come hither, who left me all I have at present.  Par. 
interrupting. A couple of Rappers.— Gush.  Tha. 
Why so?  Par. 
Because forsooth one Dish to be sure would never satisfy you, neither was he your sole Benefactor; for this Gentleman's Pocket has smoked to some Tune for most of your Bravery.  Tha. 
Be it so: But can't you let me go on with my Stor?— to Phe. whilst things stood thus: the Captain, who began to take some liking to me marched into Caria, mean time I got acquainted with thee my dear Rogue. And thou knowest how dearly I have loved thee e'er since, even to the trusting thee with the greatest of my Secrets.—  Phe. 
Parmeno will let go again.  Par. 
You may swear it, Sir.  Tha. 
For Love's sake, dear Hearts! hear me out— Not long after my Mother died at Rhodes; now my Uncle, you must know, was a little given to the World, and perceiving the Girl was very likely, and had a good hand at the Lute, hoped to make Money of her, and forthwith exposed her to Sale, and made his Markets on her. As good Luck would have it, my Friend the Captain being there, buys her for a Present for me, being perfectly ignorant of this whole Affair. He's just come to Town, and perceiving what's between you and I, he invents many Excuses and Flams to put off his parting with her as long as he can: But says, could he but persuade himself I loved him better than you, and were he not miserably afraid that when I once got her I should turn him off, he'd part with her presently. This he's still afraid of, but as far as I can perceive he has a hankering after her himself.  Phe. 
And is it got no farther than hankering?  Tha. 
No, for I ve made strict enquiry— Now my dear Phedrie, I've a thousand Reasons why I'd wheadle him out of her. First, because she goes for my Sister; and then to restore her to her Friends; for I'm a lonesome Woman here, no body with me, neither Friend nor Kinsman; therefore I hope by this good Office to make myself Friends; therefore if you love me help me out in the Management of this business: Let this Swaggerer be Master of Misrule for two or three days— What not Answer.  Fawningly. Phe. 
Thou basest of thy Sex!— What shall I answer thee, who dealest so ungratefully by me? Walks about in a Passion.  Par. 
O rare Master o' mine! Gramercy say I: He's touched now— E'dad thou'rt a Man every Inch of thee.  Aside. Phe. 
As if I didn't know what you would be at.— in another tone mocking her A young Girl was Kidnapped hence,— my Mother bred her up like her own,— she went for my Sister— Id fain wheadle him out of her— and restore her to her Friends— All this stuff is to shift me off, and to take in your Captain forsooth; But why I pray? Only because he's more in your Ladyship's Favour than I am? and you're plaguily afraid this Girl will put your Nose out of joint, and take your justy Stallion from you.  Scornfully. Tha. 
Who I afraid on't?  Phe. 
Ay you: Why should you be so concerned else? Is he the only Person that has made you Presents? Did ye ever find me close fisted? Tother day you asked for a Black, didn't I go Post haste and get you one? And then you'd have your Eunuch forsooth, purely, because your Ladies of Quality have 'em, this I got too: I'm sure yesterday I paid down o'th' nail no less than fifty Guineas for 'em both. Tho I'm slighted by ye, yet you see I didn't forget ye; and my Good nature's finely rewarded.  Tha. 
How's this my Phedrie! No, tho' I should be very glad to have this Girl, and I believe I might this way as easily as may be; yet rather than disoblige thee, I ll do what thou wouldst have me Fawningly.  Phe. 
Oh that that word came from your Heart now rather than disoblige thee. Could I but believe that was spoken sincerely, I could then bear any thing.  Par. 
He staggers: one damned wheadle has done't in a trice.  Aside. Tha. 
Ah dear! Don't I then speak from my Heart? When did I ever deny you a Request, though 'twere made but in a jest? And yet I can't for my Soul obtain the Favour of your absence but for two days.  Weeping. Phe. 
Ay if it were but two days— But what if that two should prove twenty?  Tha. 
Indeed Sir, It shall be no more than two or—  Phe. 
interrupting. Or what? No more on't.  Tha. 
It shall be no longer indeed. Let me prevail with thee for once.  Phe. 
Well for once you shall have your Mind.  Coldly. Tha. 
Now I love thee most wonderfully, thou hast so obliged me.  Phe. 
Well I ll into the Country, and there pine away for these two days.— That's my Resolution since my cruel Dear must have her Humour.— But Parmeno, do you take care to deliver the Eunuch, and Black in my absence.  Parm. 
I will Sir.  Phe. 
God b'uy my dearest Thais, for two long days.  Tha. 
God b'uy to thee my sweet Creature. Ha' you any other Commands?  Phe. 
What can I desire further; but that though the Captain has your Company, yet your Heart may be at another place: Let me both night and day be the Entertainment of your Love, your Wishes, your Dreams, your Expectations, your Thoughts, your Hopes, your Pleasure, your All. In fine, let your Heart be as much mine, as mine is yours  Exeunt Phedrie and Parmeno. Thais alone. Tha. 
Dear Heart! I'm afraid Predrie believes not one word of what I have said, but takes me for one of your Jilting Creatures of the Town. But I that know my own Heart best, am sure, I've devised no Flams; nor is there any Soul I love so fond and tenderly as this Gentleman. And whatsoever I have done i'th' case was purely for the sake of the poor Girl, whose Brother, a person of some Repute, I hope I've in a manner found out. To day he appointed to give me a visit, I ll step in and wait his coming.  Exit. 
End of the First Act.   

ACT II.  Phedrie attended by Parmeno. Phe. 
DO as I ordered ye, Let the Presents be carried.  Par. 
So they shall Sir.  Phe. 
But with care then.  Par. 
It shall be done, Sir.  Phe. 
But with speed too. Par. It shall so.  Phe. 
Have I ●●'d ye enough on't.  Par. 
All! That's a Question indeed?  Angrily. 
As tho' 'twas so hard a piece of business.— For my part Sir, I wish with all my Soul that you were as sure of winning a Thousand pounds as ye are of losing these Presents.  Phe. 
Prithee don't trouble your Head about those things, for if I lose them I lose myself too, which is far the greater loss.  Par. 
It shan't trouble me, but I ll do your Business effectually.— Have you any further Commands for me?  Phe. 
Be sure you set off the Presents with all the Commendations you can; and give my Rival all the Interruption imaginable.  Par. 
Pshaw! I'd ha' done that without your bidding.  Phe. 
Well I ll into the Country; and there tarry.  Offers to go. Par. 
I fancy so.  Jerringly. Phe. 
returning. But hark ye Parmen.  Par. 
What's your pleasure, Sir?  Phe. 
Dost really think I can have so much power o'er myself as to hold out my whose time?  Par. 
Who you Sir? No Faith: For either you'll come back again presently, or else your want of sleep will send ye hither at Midnight with a Why-not?  Phe. 
I'll tyre myself as much as I can, that I may sleep whether I will or no.  Par. 
Twoned do Sir, tyre yourself as much as ye please, you'll be ne'er the nearer  Phe. 
All this signifies nothing Parmeno.— I must break the neck of this est●minate Humour; I indulge myself too much; in short, d'ye think I can't live without her three whole days if occasion serve?  Par. 
How Sir! What three live long days? For shame Sir! Jeeringly.  Phe. 
Nay I'm sully resolved upon't however.  Exit Phedrie. Parmeno 
alone. Heavens! What a plaguy thing's this! that Love should alter men so strangely, as you can't know 'em for the same? There was never a Gentleman in Town had a better Head-piece a graver Carriage, and less given to the Flesh than this master of mine.—  Enter Gnatho leading Pamphila, attended by her Waiting Maid at a distance from Parmeno. 
But who comes yonder i'th' Name of Goodness? Ha', ha', 'tis that wheadling Rascal Gnatho, a hanger on o' th' Captains. He has got the young Gentlewoman by the Fist, as a Present to his Lady.— Bless me what a smug-faced little Rogue it is. No wonder if I make but a scurvy Figure to day with my old rotten Eunuch.— Why this Creature cuts out Thais herself.  Walks about the Door. Gnatho, 
to himself. Bless me! to see the difference between one man and another, betwixt a Fool and a Philosopher! The thing I say it for is this: As I was coming along to day I stumbled upon one of my own Rank and Quality; an honest Fellow I ll warrant him, who had made a shift to guzzel away an Estate as I had done before him. I seeing such a rough, nasty, meager Fellow, rigged out with Rags and Rheumatisms. What's the meaning of this fine Dress? quoth I, Alas! (said he) I had an Estate once, but played the Fool and coudnt keep it, and you see what In brought to: All my Friends and Acquaintance fly me as they would the Plague— Here I began to look down upon him with scorn: Why you whoreson Blockhead, said I, is it come to that then, that you hadnt left yourself an Aftergame? Have ye lost your Brains and your Money together? Why do but look on me, who was once in the same Case with yourself? How fresh and sparkish, how Genteel I go, and how strong and lusty I am? I have the Indies at Command, though Lands I have none; and though I have scarce a Groat in the world, yet I want for nothing. In another Tone But (says he) In of such an unluckily Constitution that neither buffooning nor beating will agree with me. How's that, said I, d'ye think that's the way? No you're plaguily wide o' th' Mark. In the days of Yore this might have done well enough: but we are now in another Method, and perhaps I was the Inventor of it too— There's a sort of people in the World who ●et up for Wits of the first Rate, and yet have no more Brains than Maggots: Now these are the Men for my turn: but then I am not their Merry-Andrew to make them sport, but very readily make sport at them, though at the same time I praise their parts to the Skies. If they say any thing, I cry it up too. If they unsay it, I commend 'em for that too: What they deny, I deny: What they affirm, I affirm: In fine, I've brought myself to be just of their Mind in every thing: and by this means, I get many a sweet Bit, and a sweet Penny.  Par. 
A very pretty Fellow upo' my word! Give him a Fool and he'll make him a Madman. Aside.  Gna. 
Whilst this Chat lasted we got to the Marketplace, where I was joyfully met by a Troop of Confectioners, Fishmongers, Butchers, Cooks, Pastry-men, Fishermen, and Poulterers; all of my old Cronies whom I had been a good Customer to before, and since I had spent my Estate, and am so still: They Complimented me with Hat in Hand, invited me to Supper, and were very glad to see my Worship: when my poor hunger-starud Comrade saw I was so highly in their Books, and live so bravely at ease, he begged o' me for Heaven's sake to teach him a little of my Art. I bid him follow me, and be my Pupil; and as the Sects of Philosophers borrowed their Names from their Masters, so all that have learned the Art of Wheadling should from me be called Gnathonicks.  Par. 
To see the virtue now of living at ease, and being fed at another Man's Table Aside.  Gna. 
But hold In plaguy backward in handing this present to Mrs. Thais, and to invite her to the Treat— advances towards the Door and sees Parmeno yonder's Parmeno our Rival's Servant all i'th' dumps before the door: Our Business goes swimmingly on; these Sparks will have but a cold Suit on't— I'm rescived to have a little sport with this poor Rogue.  Par. 
I warrant they think this Gift will make the Lady theirs for ever. Aside.  Gna. 
My noun dear Friend! Gnatho's thy very humble Servant. Well what are ye upon now?  Jeeringly. Par. 
Upon my Legs. Surlily.  Gna. 
I I see that.— But done't ye see something here that offends your Eyesight. pointing to Pam.  Par. 
Yes you. Surlily.  Gna. 
That I believe too.— But is there nothing else?  Par. 
Why what should there be?  Gna. 
Because, my Friend, you seem to be a little out of Humour.  Par. 
Not in the least.  Gna. 
Nay I wou'dned have ye do so.— But what think ye of this Present? Ha!  Par. 
Why she's tolerable.  Gna. 
I've galled him I see. Softly.  Par. 
overhearing. How plaguily he's mistaken now? Aside.  Gna. 
Won't Madam Thais be mightily taken with this Present think ye?  Par. 
As much as to say our Nose is out of joint: But hark ye Friend, every Dog has his day; there is a time for all things.  Gna. 
Now, Parmeno will I give thee a Holiday for this half Year; and save thee the trouble of trotting up and down, and sitting up till four or five in the morning. Don't I do ye a prodigious piece of Service? Par Who me? Ay a damnable one.  Gna. 
Thus I always oblige Friends.  Par. 
You do well.  Gna. 
But perhaps I detain ye Sir; your business possibly calls ye elsewhere?  Par. 
No I'm at my Journey's end.  Gna. 
Pray Sir, do me the favour then to introduce me to the Lady.  Par. 
Very good! This present will be your Passport now.  Gna. 
Will ye be pleased to have any one sent out to ye? Exit Gnatho, Pamphilia, and Waiting Maid  Par. 
alone. Let but two days be over, and I'll take care that you may knock till your Heart aches without admittance, tho' now you are so happy as to have the Doors fly open at a touch of your little Finger.  Re-enter Gnatho. Gna. 
What here still my noun Friend? D'ye keep guard here that not an Embassy by a Civil Messenger can pass privately between the Captain and the Lady? Exit Gnatho.  Par. 
alone. Very wittily spoken! These wonderful fine things must needs please the Captain? seeing Cherea. But hold, I see my Master's younger Son making this way.— I wonder what makes him from his post at Pireo, when he's upon Duty there.— There's somewhat more than ordinary in the wind;— And he's in great haste too— I can't guests what makes him throw his Eyes about thus.  Enter Cherea at a distance from Parmeno, out of Breath, and looking about him. Che. 
to himself. I'm undone! The pretty Creature's lost— And so am I— who have unluckily missed on her. Where shall I look for her? where shall I trace her? whom shall I ask for her? what blind Alley shall I range in?— I'm in a strange Quandary.— I've this comfort left, that she can't be long incognito wherever she be.— The most charming Look! From this Moment, I've done with the whole Sex besides. Your Everyday Las●es and Faces will ne'er down again.  Par. 
Heyday! Here's another in the whining and languishing Vein, or I'm beside the Cushion— The old Gentleman their Father's finely blessed? If this Spark once gins the Sport, he'll be so mad upon't, that Mr. Phedrie will be a Child to him.  Aside. Che. 
Would the De'el had this old Mumsimus for stopping my Journey: And me too for staying, when I should have taken no notice of him.— Ho! here's Parmeno! Well met old Friend.  Par. 
Why so concerned, and yet so Gay? And whether a going?  Che. 
Who I? Troth I can't tell whence I came, nor where I'm going, I've lost my Senses.  Par. 
How so I beseech ye?  Che. 
I'm in Love man.  Par. 
Heyday.  Che. 
Now old Boy, show what a Man your are: thou knowest how often thou hast promised me: Master Cherea, do but find out one you ve a mind to, and I'll show what a Talon I have at Intriguing: You remember 'twas when I use to get you many a good bit out of my Father's Pantry, and no body  the wiser, ye Rogue.  Par. 
Pshaw no more of that.  Che. 
Why, Faith 'twas even so: Therefore prithee now be as good as thy word, at least if you think it worth beating your Brains about.— This pretty Creature isn't at all like our Town Ladies, whose Mothers saddle their backs, and strait-lace their Wastes to make 'em well shaped. If any chance to grow a little plumper than the rest, they presently cry, She's an Hostess; and then her Allowance must be shortened, and though she be naturally fat and lusty, yet by her dieting she's made as slender as a Broomstick: By this means one Woodcock or another is caught in their Spring.  Par. 
And how's yours I beseech ye?  Che. 
Such a Beauty, the World never saw.  Par. 
Heyday!  Che. 
Her Complexion true and natural; Her Body sound and strong, and as plump as a Partridge.  Par. 
How old think ye? Che. About Sixteen.  Par. 
In the very prime I faith.  Che. 
Now, do you but help me to this sweet Creature, either by force, fraud, or wheadle, I don't care which way, so I do but enjoy her.  Par. 
But what is this sweet Creature?  Che. 
Faith I know not.  Par. 
Whence came she?  Che. 
I can't tell.  Par. 
Where does she live?  Che. 
Nor that neither.  Par. 
Where did you see her●  Che. 
In the Street here.  Par. 
How came you to lose her?  Che. 
That's it I was cursing at, when I met you Nor do I think there's that Man living, whose good Fortune had left him thus in the lurch. What a Misfortune was here!— I'm a very Wretch.  Par. 
What's done to ye Sir?  Che. 
De●s ask? Don't ye know old Archidemides, my Father's Kinsman and Companion?  Par. 
Yes, very well.  Che. 
This Fellow met me full butt, as I was hot upo' th' Scent after this pretty Creature.  Par. 
Faith 'twas a little unseasonable.  Che. 
Rather devilish unfortunare: for lighter Matters may be called unseasonable For I can safely swear, I hadn't seen him this half Year till now, when I neither desired nor wanted his Company. wasn't this a damned Accident? Ha! what say you?  Par. 
As you say, Sir, 'twas a damned Accident.  Che. 
He comes hobbling after me as far as he could see me, with his Chin and his Knees together; his Joints shaking in his Hide; hanging his Jib like an old Horse, and groaning like a rotten Sheep; He bawls out, Soho, Cherea, Soho! 'tis you I would speak with.— With that I made a halt. d'ye know, says he, what's my Business with ye? No, pray tell me Sir. Oh, said he, my Cause comes on to morrow. And what then, said I? Why be sure (quoth he) to tell your Father, that he must not fail to be at th'Court. I think he was a whole hour by the Clock in telling this. I asked him if he had any further Business, he said None at all. Away march I: And looking for this young Creature, I found she had taken down this Street.  Par. 
My Life on't, if this bened the same that was presented to Thais. Aside.  Che. 
As soon as I was got hither she was vanished.  Par. 
Had she any Attendance with her?  Che. 
Yes a Man and a Waiting-maid.  Par. 
Aside. The very same i'faith.— Set your Heart at rest, Sir, your business is done.  Che. 
Sure thy Wits are a Woolgathering.  Par. 
No, I know what I say.  Che. 
Why, canst tell who she is?— Prithee tell me.— Did ye see her? Hastily.  Par. 
I did see her, I know her too, (more than that) I can tell where she's gone too.  Che. 
Ah dear Rogue! Dost know her indeed?  Par. 
Yes, Sir.  Che. 
And canst tell where she's gone too?  Par. 
She was brought hither as as a Present to ●●a●s.  Che. 
Is any Man living able to be at the Charge ●● such a Present?  Par. 
Yes, Captain Thraso, your Brother's Right.  Che. 
For aught I see my Brother will be put to his last Trumpets then.  Par. 
Ay Faith! so you'd swear indeed, if you knew what a precious Present he has provided to match this withal.  Che. 
What's that prithee.  Par. 
An Eunuch.  Che. 
What that Tool of a Man that he bought yesterday? That haggish Fellow?  Par. 
That's he Sir.  Che. 
Certainly he and his present will be kicked to the Devil.— But I ne'er knew before that this Thais was our Neighbour.  Par. 
Why she's lately removed hither.  Che. 
Unlucky Whelp that I am! That I should ne'er see her.— But prithee tell me is she such a Beauty as they talk of? Par. Every Jot.  Che. 
But short of ours my Life on't.  Par. 
Quite another thing.  Che. 
Prithee honest Boy, do but thy best to bring us both together.  Par. 
You shall have my good will in't. I'll do what I can to help ye: What would he have more;  Going est Che. 
Whither away now?  Par. 
Why home to hand the Presents hither according to your Brother's Orders.  Che. 
Oh the Luck of this same roguy Eunuch, to go into this House upon such an Errand!  Par. 
Why so Sir?  Che. 
De●e ask that? Why he'll always be blessed with the sight of his beautiful Companion; they li talk together, live together, and now and then perhaps lie together.  Par. 
What would you say now, if you were that blessed Creature?  Che. 
Which way? Speak dear Rogue. Hastily.  Par. 
Suppose you take his ,—  Che. 
His ? And how then?  Par. 
And be carried thither instead of him,—  Che. 
On, on Boy.  Par. 
And give out that you are he.  Che. 
I small your design.  Par. 
And there you may enjoy all those rare Blessings you fancied but just now for another. You may eat and drink with her, sit by her, touch, ●●y with her, and— lie by her. For not a Creature in that House can tell what you are, or whence you came. And besides, your Age and those Smooth chaps of yours will make you pass for a Complete Eunuch.  Che. 
Spoken like an Angel! and advised like an Oracle!— ●hugs Parmeno, and is carrying him off.] Come away Boy, let's in and about it, equip me to ●●ghts now, immediately away with me, and bring me to her as fast as you can for your Life.  Par. 
struggling. Hold Sir!— what d'ye mean? I did but jest.  Che. 
'Pshaw! That's Nonsense.  Par. 
I'm ruined! How like a Fool have I done! where d'ye thrust me Sir?— Faith you had almost hushed me on my Nose— 'Tis you I speak to Sir. Pray stay.  Che. 
But I say let's go.  Par. 
Are ye resolved upon't then?  Che. 
Absolutely.  Par. 
Have a care you don't make more haste 〈◊〉 good speed.  Che. 
No, no, let me alone for that.  Par. 
A● but my Bones will smart for't. Oh! 〈◊〉 horrible Villainy!  Che. 
A Villainy d'ye call it for a Man to go into a Bawdy-House; and a pay a Company of silts in their ●n Coin? why if they make a Trade to abuse, torment and trepan innocent young Men, is it not Justice and Equity to plague and choose them again?— Shan't I rather play Tricks with them, than with my Father? This I should be blamed for; as for t'other, 'twould be said, I served them in their own kind.  Par. 
How's this! Well! if ye be fully bend 〈◊〉 on't, even take your own course; but then 〈◊〉 lay the blame at my door afterwards.  Che. 
I won't then.  Par. 
And is it your will to have it so?  Che. 
'tis my will to have it so, and it must 〈◊〉 so, and it shall be so; and what I have said I was stand by.  Par. 
Nay then follow me.  Che. 
Venus and Cupid favour the Design.  Exeunt 〈◊〉 
The end of the Second Act.   

ACT III.  Thraso and Gnatho. Thr. 
WELL, but was she so very thankful then?  Gna. 
O yes Sir, most hugely.  Thr. 
And glad at Heart say ye?  Gna. 
O yes, but not so much for the Gift as the Giver: and for that let me tell ye she's plaguily. proud on't.  Enter Parmeno at a distance. Par. 
to himself. I'm come to watch a fair Opportunity to bring my Presents in too.— But hold! Here's Captain Bellswagger. Retires to one side.  Thr. 
Really I have the luck on't; every thing that I do is most wonderfully taking.  Gna. 
I have observed as much.  Thr. 
The King of Persia, whenever I did him a kindness, was always very sensible of it: He wasn't so to every body.  Gna. 
A smart Tongue so well hung as yours, makes all that Glory his own, which others so long have toiled for.  Thr. 
Right Boy!  Gna. 
The King has you in his Eye then?  Thr. 
Right again.  Gna. 
And loves to have you there.  Thr. 
No doubt on't.— Nay more he trusted his whole Army to my Conduct, and follows my Advice in every thing.  Gna. 
Prodigious!  Thr. 
Then if he chanced to be weary of Company or Business, and had a Mind to take a little ease— as the— you know what I mean.  Gna. 
Yes, Sir, As tho' when he had a mind to clear his Stomach, as a body may so say, of all Concerns,—  Thr. 
Right, then would he take me to him Hand to First.  Gna. 
Ay marry Sir! this is a King indeed.  Thr. 
Oh! He's a man of a Thousand.—  Gna. 
Yes, one of a million— if he choose you for his Companion. Aside.  Thr. 
All the Officers envied me, and grumbled at me behind my back: I didn't value it a Straw; they envied me damnably. But above all, one who had the Charge of the Indian Elephants. This Fellow being more troublesome than the rest, Prithee Strato, said I, why so plaguy Big? Is it because you are Lord o'er a parcel of Beasts?  Gna. 
Neatly said, i'faith, and shrewdly.— Bless me! You overthrew Man and Beast— What said he, Sir?  Thr. 
Not a word.  Gna. 
Nay I don't know how he should.  Par. 
Bless me! This Captain's the blindest Coxcomb, and the other the vilest Rascal I ever saw. Aside.  Thr. 
What think ye Gnatho? Did I ever tell ye how sharp I was upon the young Rhodian Spark at a Feast?  Gna. 
Never, Sir, let's hear it, I pray,— He has told it me a thousand times. Aside.  Thr. 
This Rhodian Spark I told ye of, was with me at a Feast, where by chance I had a small Girl; this Stripling began to be sweet upon her, and waggish upon me too. How now you impudent Saucebox, (said I) you're Man's meat yourself, and yet have a mind to a Tit-bit.  Gna. 
Ha', ha', he.  Thr. 
What's the matter? Ha!  Gna. 
Very fine, sharp and delicate; that could not be mended.— But pray, Sir, was this all your own? I took it for an old one.  Thr. 
Why did you ever hear't before?  Gna. 
Yes, Sir, very often: And it takes extremely.—  Thr. 
I'll affure you, 'twas all my own.  Gna. 
I am sorry you were so sharp upon the foolish young Gentleman.  Par. 
Ah the De'el take thee for a Rascal. Aside.  Gna. 
Pray, Sir, what did he say then?  Thr. 
He was quite dashed out of Countenance; And the whole Company was ready to die with Laughing. After that every body was plaguy wary of meddling with me.  Gna. 
And well they might.  Thr. 
— But hark ye, Gnatho, had I best clear myself to Thais from the jealousy she has of my being in love with Pamphila.  Gna. 
Let that be the least of your Thoughts; but rather give her more cause to be jealous.  Thr. 
Why so?  Gna. 
That's a Question: Don't ye apprehend me Sir? Should she but speak a word of Phedrie, or offer to commend him on purpose to plague you.—  Thr. 
That.  Gna. 
Your only way to prevent that, is, whenever she names Phedrie, be sure you hit her in the Teeth with Pamphila; if she cries, let's have Phedrie to be merry with us, do you answer, And Pamphila to give us a Song: If she praise his shape, extol her Face: And be sure give her a Rowland for her Oliver, and that will vex her to the Heart—  Thr. 
Ay, if she loved me, this might do, Gnatho.  Gna. 
As long as she desires and loves your Presents, you may lay your Life she loves you. So 〈◊〉 you may venture to tease her; she'll always 〈◊〉 lest any angry word should turn the 〈◊〉 of your Bounty another way.  Thr. 
Thou sayest right.— Why I never so much as dreamed of this before.  Gna. 
A good Jest i'faith: Sure you didn't give your Mind to't; for had you set your Wits about it, your Contrivance would ha' been worth fifty of mine  To them enter Thais attended by Pythia. Tha. 
I fancied I heard the Captain's Tongue just now.— Oh, here he as— My dear Hero, welcome. Hugs him.  Thr. 
Oh, my sweet Thais, my dear Honey, how, is't.— Don't ye love me now, for giving you this pretty Wench?  Par. 
Admirable i'faith! how nobly he opens the Campagne. Aside.  Tha. 
Oh, Sir, I'm eternally obliged to you for't.  Gna. 
Let's in to Supper I say: why this dallying?  Par. 
Here's another too! Faith one would swear he is the Captain's Bastard, they're so like one another. Aside.  Thr. 
to Gnatho. As soon as you will, for I am ready.  Par. 
advancing nigher. I'll to her, and make as though I just came from home.— Are you going a broad Madam. Aside to Thais  Tha. 
to him. Oh Parmeno, troth you are come very lucky, I was just a going out.  ●ar. 
Whither Madam?  Tha. 
Why don't ye see this Gentleman here. Aside to him  Par. 
I do see him, with a pox, to my sorrow.— When you please Madam, my Master's Presents are at your Service. Aloud  Thr. 
What do we stay for? why done't we ●●● on?  Par. 
to Thraso. May it please your Honour, by your leave; first let me make my Presents as I was ordered, and go and have a little harmless Chat with the Lady.  Thr. 
Special Presents! I'll warrant ye not to ●● named the same day with mine. Jeering.  Par. 
The Trial's all— Goes towards Lach House Soho! within there! send out the person, I ordered— Enter the Blackamoor. Here advanced forward— Here's a Lass come from as far as Prester John's Country.  Thr. 
I can have as good for Seven or Eight Guineas.  Gna. 
Ay and a better too.  Par. 
to them within You, Sir, Doras' where are ye? stand forth Boy.— Here's your Eunuch for ye then— see what a pert look he has got, and ●ast in the prime of his Age. Enter Cherea dressed up like the Eunuch.  Tha. 
As I hope to be saved a very tied Fellow.  Par. 
What say ye now Mr. Gnatho: D'ye spy any Faults here?— And you noble Captain?— what never a word?— That's Commendation enough of all Conscience.— Try him in the Schools, Field, Music, or where you will, you ll find he has had the Education of a Gentleman.  Thr. 
For a need that Eunuch would down well enough, though a man was sober. Aside to Gnatho.  Par. 
And yet Madam, the Gentleman that made these Presents, dosned desire to be your only Favourite, nor that all others should be thrust out of doors for his sake: He dosned tell your Romantic Stories of his Fights and Duels, nor yet boast of his Wounds and Scars; neither does he stand in your Light, as a certain person that shall be nameless. But when it shall be no trouble to you Madam, when you please, and your Ladyship is at leisure, he thinks it favour enough to be then admitted.  Thr. 
'tis Evident this Fellow has got some poor Grubstrect Merchant for his Master.  Gna. 
Faith like enough; for he would'nt keep this Fellow so long, had he a Shilling in his Pocket to hire him a better.  Par. 
Peace Dog.— Thou art not worthy to be kicked— If you can stoop to flatter him, pointing to the Captain thus, you'd be content to do the most sordid thing in the world for a livelihood.  Thr. 
Shall we stay to hear this Fellow prate?  Angrily. Tha. 
I'll only just step in with these, and order my Maids what to do; and I'll be back again in an instant. Exeunt Thais, Che. and the Black.  Thr. 
I ll go before— But do you stay and wait upon my Mistress. to Gnatho.  Par. 
Fie! 'tis beneath a General to Squire his own Mistress.  Thr. 
to Parmeno. Why should I spend my Breath upon thee?— Like Master like Man.  Exit Parmeno. Gna. 
Ha', ha', he.—  Thr. 
What d'ye laugh at? Somewhat surlily.  Gna. 
Why what you just now said: Besides you put me in mind of the Rhodian Spark, and I couldn't forbear— but here's Madam Thais again.  
Re-enter Thais, Pythia and Attendants.  Thr. 
Run home and see that all the Rooms ●o ready.  Gna. 
I'm gone Sir. Exi Gnatho.  Tha. 
to Pythia. Be sure Pythia take care to do what I bid ye— if Mr. Chremes should chance to come to day, desire him to stay a little; if he's in haste, beg him to come another time; if he can't do that, send him over to the Captains to me.  Pyt. 
I will Madam.  Tha. 
Hold— I had something else to say.— Let me see,— O I remembered— Be sure you make much of the young Gentlewoman. Do you keep home. Exit Pythia  Thr. 
Now let's march.  Tha. 
Do you follow me. to the Attendants. As they go off one way, enter Chremes alone another way.  Chr. 
In troth the more I think and chew upon this business, the more I'm afraid that this Thais should play me some plaguy Dogtrick or other; I find myself damnably wheadl d by her. When she first sent for me, any man might have wondered what business I had there; Faith I couldn't tell myself: but when I came, she immediately casts about for Fetches and Excuses to make me tarry. I have, (says she) just now been at my Devotion, therefore more fit to discourse of grave and serious Matters. At that my Heart misgave me plaguily. She drew a Chair and sat down by me, and fawning upon me, she began to pump for discourse. When she had nothing else to say, she'd fall a ask me, How long my Father and Mother had been dead? I told her, a pretty while since: Then, whether I had not a Seat at Sunio, and how far it stood off the Sea. Pox! I believe she liked the Situation herself, and had a mind to gull me out on't. And lastly, If I hadn't lost a young Sister thence? and who was with her then? What she had about her whenlost? Whether 'twas possible for one to know her again? And such like Stuff. I can't imagine why the De'el she asked all these Questions; without she designs to put herself upon me instead of this lost Sister; as it is the Impudence of these Jades. However if she is alive, 〈◊〉 is just Sixteen and no more: but this same Thais is somewhat older than myself— She has sent again to beg of me very earuestly to come.— Now let her tell her business plainl, or trouble me o more. I ll be hanged if she catch me here a third time. So ho! within there! soho! knocks at the Door.  Pyth. 
within Who is there?  Cor. 
'tis I, my Names Chremes  Enter Pythia. 
〈…〉 pretty little Squire is it you?  Chr. 
So— I said as much, this wheadling bodes 〈◊〉 good Aside.  Pyt. 
M Lady humbly desires you to come again to morrow.  Chr. 
I'm to go into the Country.  Pyth. 
For love's sake Sir, do.  Chr. 
I tell you plainly I can't.  Pyt. 
Why then, Sir, stay but a little till my Lady comes back.  Chr. 
Faith I don't intent it.  Pyt. 
Why not, dear Mr Chremcs. Fawningly.  Chr. 
Pox take ye for a dissembling Baggage.  Pyth. 
Well if you be resolved, I beseech ye Sir, to give yourself the trouble of stepping over to her where she is.  Chr. 
I dont care if I do that.  Pyth. 
to them within. Doria! Enter Doria. Go quickly and show this Gentleman over to the Captain's. Exeunt severally. Enter Antipho alone.  Ant. 
Yesterday a Knot of good Fellows of us were got together at Pireo, where we club d to have a Feast to day. We chose Cherea for our Steward. The Forfeits were all laid down, and time and place agreed upon. The time's past, and at the place they know nothing on't; our Gentleman Steward has given us the ●●ip, and Faith I can't tell what to say, or think o' th' Business.— The rest of the Company have employed me to hunt about for him; I think I d as good call in at his Father's— discovering Cherea. But who is yonder a coming out of Thais' House? is it he, or is it not he?— As I live 'tis he— He day! what a Toy of a man have we got here?— What means this disguise?— what unaccountable freak is this? I am puzzled, and cant imagine for my Heart what's the matter? whatsoever it be I will know before I stir a foot. Retires a little on one side.  Enter Cherea, looking cautionsly about. Che. 
to himself softly. But is no body here now? Not a Mortal.— Does no body dog me?— Not so much as my Shadow.— Shall I now give vent to my swelling Joys?— Oh Heavens! what would I give for some good Body to cut my Throat immediately, that in the height of this Joy I may end my Life without the least dash of misfortune.— But is there never a curious inquisitive Fellow following me close upon the Heel, to deafen and murder me with Question upon Question at every turn? As, Why so transported? Why so wonderful merry? Whither away so fast? Whence came ye? Where got ye this Garb? What Frolick's this? Are ye in your Wits? or are ye stark mad?  Ant. 
advancing nigher. Faith, I'll even up to him, and do him that favour myself.— Cherea, what is't you chuckle at so? what means this fool's Coat? why so merry about the Mouth? hay brave! what d'ye mean? D'ye pretend to be in your wits? what d'ye stare for?— Here they stare upon one another what never a word?  Che. 
Huzzah! This is a day of Jubilee! well met old Soul! Gad take me, there's not a Man alive I'd have wished for so soon as thy dear self.  Ant. 
Prithee tell me this mighty business.  Che. 
And prithee dear Rogue prepare thyself to receive it then.— I suppose you know my Brother's Mistress.  Ant. 
Yes, you mean Thais I suppose.  Che. 
The very same  Ant. 
I thought I knew her.  Che. 
This day a pretty young Female was presented to her. But why should I stand prating, and commending her charming Face to thee my Friend, when thou knowest so well what a Critic I am in Beauties?— In short she fired my Blood.  Ant. 
Say you so?  Che. 
Ay Boy, had you but seen her, I'm sure you'd say she was the Miracle of her Sex. But to leave impertinencies, I was presently in up to the Ears; And as good luck would have it, we had an Eunuch at home, which my Brother bought for his Mistress, but wasn't yet delivered to her. Our Man Parmeno gave me an Item of a Design, which I immediately put in Execution.  Ant. 
And what was that?  Che. 
Be patiented and you'll hear't the sooner. It was to change  with the Eunuch, and for me to be presented instead of him.  Ant. 
What for the Eunuch?  Che. 
Even so old Boy.  Ant. 
Prithee what advantage could you propose to yourself by that?  Che. 
That's worth the ask indeed, why to see her, discourse with her, and be alone with the pretty Creature I loved (ye Rogue.) And d'ye make nothing of this now?— In short presented I was to Thais, who as soon as she received me, very joyfully brought me home; and committed the Beautiful Creature to my charge.  Ant. 
To whose Charge? to thine?  Che. 
Yes, to mine.  Ant. 
Marry, she was in safe Hands!  Che. 
She ordered that not a Man should come nigh her but myself, and charged me not to stir a step from her; and that She and I should be alone together in the Parlour. I looked as if Butter would not melt in my Mouth, and cried, Yes Madam.  Ant. 
The Lord help thee.  Che. 
She told me she was going out to Supper; And with that drew all her Train after her, except a few raw new comers to attend the fair Stranger. Those prepared a Bath for my Angel: I urged 'em to hastened as much as they could. Whilst they were about it, this sweet Creature was sitting in a Withdrawing Room, casting her Eyes upon a fair Piece, which was the picture of Jupiter, who (as the story goes) came down into Danae's Lap in a Shower of Gold. I made bold to dart a Look that way too, and finding how like the Intrigue was to mine, I couldn't but beaten times the more tickled at the Conceit on't. That a very God should transform himself into a Mortal, and privately steal through the Tiles of another Man's House, and so drop like a Shower into his Mistresses Arms. But what God, thought I, was this? Why no less a God than the Thunderer himself, who shakes the Battlements of Heaven. And should Flesh and Blood refuse to follow his Example? I'll do't, and with all my Soul too. While these thoughts were working in my Head, they called her away to the Bath, she goes, she washes, she comes back: And then they put her to Bed, I stood waiting for the word of Command. At last comes one to me, Prithee do you Dorus take this Fan, and cool the young Gentlewoman thus, the time we are Bathing. When we have done, you may bathe if 've a mind to't.  Ant. 
I'd a given the whole almost t'have seen that impudent Face of thine at that time; how you carried yourself; and how like a great Booby you managed the Fan.  Che. 
The words were scarce out of her Mouth, but they all rushed out of the Room to the Bath, and set up a Gaggle, as Servants do when their Master's Back's turned. Mean time my dear Lady falls into a sweet sleep; with that I cunningly casts a Sheep's Eye askiew through the Fan, showing him how he looked and took a sidelong Glance round the Room to see that the Coast was clear.— I finding all right, made fast the Door.  Ant. 
What then brave Boy?  Che. 
How? what then? Simpleton!  Ant. 
A Simpleton indeed!  Che. 
Should I have neglected such a short, wished for, and unexpected Opportunity, when it dropped into my very Mouth. I must ha' been a very Eunuch indeed then.  Ant. 
Faith Boy, thou'rt in the right.— But in the mean time what's become of our Treat?  Che. 
'tis just ready.  Ant. 
Troth, thou 'rt a brave Fellow. But where is't? At your House.  Che. 
No; at old Harry Platters.  Ant. 
That's plaguy way off.  Che. 
We must go the faster then, that's all.  Ant. 
But won't you change your .  Che. 
How can I? Pox on't! I'm quite banished home, for fear my Brother should see me, and what's worse, lest my old Father should become out of the Country.  Ant. 
Why then even let's go to our House; that's the nighest place I can think of, to shift yourself.  Che. 
That's right; let's away then and lay our Heads together, how my Dear may be for ever mine.  Ant. 
A Match then.  
The end of the Third Act.   

ACT IU.  Doria alone, with a Casket under her Arm. 
AS I'm a living Soul, as much as I can gather from the Captain's humour, I'm terribly afraid this Swaggerer should make some disturbance to day, and fall foul upon my Lad●. For as soon as young Chremes, the Gentlewoman's Brother came thither, she asked leave of the Captain to have him admitted. He began to huff and be angry, but yet durst not deny her. Besides, my Lady urged him to desire the Gentleman to sit down and welcome, because she'd have him stay there, for this wasn't a proper time to tell him all she had a mind to about his Sister. At last with a dogged Look, he coldly bids him welcome. The Gentleman stayed, and my Lady began to discourse. This Captain Huff-cap imagining he had been a Rival brought under his Nose to affront him, thought he would do something that should plague her too. Hark ye, says he, go for Pamphila, to give us a Song. By no means in the World, cries my Lady; What should such a Wench do at a Feast? The Captain being set upon't fell to wrangling. Mean time the cunning Creature whips her Gold and Jewels into this Casket, and slipped it into my Hand to carry off; which is a certain sign she won't be long behind, as soon as she can get away.  Enter Phedrie at a distance. Phe. 
As I was walking to our Country House upon the Road, (as 'tis usual with people when they are uneasy) a thousand thoughts came running into my Head one after another, which I took all in the worst Sense: To be short, whilst I was musing upon these things, I passed by my House unawares, and had got half a Mile before I perceived it; upon that I turned back with a Heart as heavy as Led.— When I was just got by the way to the House, I stood still, and began to think thus with myself: What? must I be forced to stay here eight and forty long hours without her?— What of all that?— A mere trifle!— How a trifle?— What if I can't kiss her Hand, yet 'tis very hard if I can't have one look at her? If I can't have the one, sure I may have the other: 'tis better to be almost distanced, than to be quite thrown out of the Race. With that I went by on purpose.— But hold, what makes Pythia run out of Doors in such a fright?  Enter Pythia looking about. Pyth. 
to herself. Where's this cursed, wicked Creature— Wretch that I am! where shall I find him? Or where shall I look for him?— That ever any man should have the impudence to offer at such a Villainy!  Phe. 
Alas! my Heart misgives me strangely.  Aside. Pyth. 
to herself. Nay more than that; after the Villain had abused the Girl, he tears her , and drags her up and down by the Hair o'th' Head.  Phe. 
How's this? Aside.  Pyth. 
to herself. O that I had but the Rogue in my Clutches now!— How I would claw the Eyes of the Whores-bird!  Phe. 
I can't imagine what great disorder here has been in my absence— I'll even step to her Aside.  
To Pyth. What's the matter? whither in such haste? whom d'ye look for, Pythia?  Pyth. 
Ha, Mr Phedrie! Whom look for say ye? a Curse upon you and your precious Presents both together.  Phe. 
Prithee tell me what's the matter?  Pyth. 
The Matter, quoth I?— Your Eunuch that you gave us, what wicked Work has he made here? He has gone and ravished the young Gentlewoman the Captain gave my Lady.  Phe. 
in a maze. What sayest thou?  Pyth. 
I'm quite undone.  Phe. 
Ay and drunk too, I think.  Pyth. 
Would the worst of mine Enemies were as drunk as I am.  Dor. 
O Law, Pythia, wasn't it a very prodigious thing, ha'!  Phe. 
Thou'rt certainly mad.— How is it possible for an Eunuch to do this?  Pyth. 
I can't tell what he was; but what he has done, 'tis plain. The poor young Creature is all in Tears, neither can ye get one Word from her. This precious Rogue hides his Head now. I'm woefully afraid he has fingered somewhat out o'th' House too, when he ran away.  Phe. 
'Tis a wonder to me such a Limberhammed Dog should get out of sight so soon, unless he has hous'd himself at my Father's.  Pyth. 
Dear Sir, step in and see.  Phe. 
You shall know that presently.  Exit-Phedrie. Dor. 
O Gemini! Prithee my Dear, did you ever hear of such a horrid Prank before? I never did.  Pyth. 
Truly I have heard say, these Eunuches are great Admirers of fine Women, but can do nothing but slabber them over. But I, like a silly Jade as I was, never thought of this: If I had, I should have locked up my Gentleman, and have kept the Girl far enough from his reach.  Re-enter Phedrie dragging in Dorus by the Ears. Phe. 
Come out ye infamous Dog!— What d'ye hang an Arse ye Runagate Scoundrel!— Thou damnable Bargain out of your Kennel.  Dor. 
Good Sir.  Phe. 
Do but see what a damned Friday-face the Jail-bird makes? How came you hither again?— Why this change of Habit I pray?— What answer Dog?— Had I stayed but a minute longer, Pythia, I had miss doth Rogue, you see hes just equipt for the March.  Pyth. 
O dear Sir, have ye met with the Rascal?  Che. 
Met with him? Ay.  Pythias 
That's good Luck indeed.  Dor. 
Ay special good Luck upo' my word:  Pyth. 
What ha' ye done with him?  Phe. 
Done with him? Can't ye see before ye?  Pyth. 
Whom should I see?  Phe. 
This Fellow here. Pointing to Dorus.  Pyth. 
What of this Fellow here?  Phe. 
The same that was sent to your House to day.  Pyth. 
I dare swear Sir, none of our House  set eye upon him.  Phe. 
Sure they were blind then.  Pyth. 
Pray Sir, can ye believe this to be the Man that was brought to our House?  Phe. 
Bel? The De'el 〈◊〉 else had I to send.  Pyth. 
Fie!— there's no Comparison to be made between this and that; for that other had a fine Air, and looked like a Gentleman.  Phe. 
Ay, so you thought, because he had got his gay  on: now he has altered his Habit, you take him for an ugly Creature.  Pyth. 
Pray Sir, don't persuade me to't, as if there were no more difference than that comes to. Why he that we had to day was such a fine young Fellow, 'twould ha' done your Heart good to have seen him. This is a dry, decrepit, drowzy-headed Fumbler, and looks like a Weasel.  Phe. 
'Sdeath! What stuff's this?— 've brought me to that pass, that for my part I know not what I've done myself.— Come hither Sirrah, to Dorus Didn't I buy ye, and pay for ye?  Dor. 
Yes, an't please you.  Pyth. 
Now pray Sir, let me have one pull at him.  Phe. 
Do so.  Pyth. 
Were you at our House to day? He nods Look ye, he denies it,— He that Parmen) brought was but sixteen.  Phe. 
Well I'll at him once again myself. First, tell me how you came by these ? What ha' you lost you Tongue?— Ye ugly Dog, why don't ye answer me? Angrily.  Dor. 
One Mr Cherea came.—  Phe. 
Not my Brother I hope?  Dor. 
Yes Sir?  Phe. 
When?  Dor. 
To day.  Phe. 
How long ago?  Dor. 
But a little while.  Phe. 
Who did he come with?  Dor. 
Parmeno, an't please you.  Phe. 
Did you know him before?  Dor. 
No Sir, nor ever heard of his name.  Phe. 
How came ye then to know 'twas my Brother?  Dor. 
Parmeno told me so.— And 'twas Cherea gave me these —  Phe. 
Confusion!  Dor. 
— And put on mine, and away they went together.  Pyth. 
to Phedrie. So Sir, Who's drunk now? 'Twas I filled your Head with Stories, wasn't it? Now 'tis as clear as the Sun, that the poor Gentlewoman's ravished. Weeps.  Phe. 
Away ye Beast,— D'ye believe one word this Fellow prates?  Pyth. 
A Fig for believing! The thing's plain enough of itself.  Phe. 
softly to Dorus. Come a little this way, Die mind me Sirrah?— Nigher yet.— That's well.— Let me hear this Business once again, Did Cherea take your  from ye?  Dor. 
He did Sir,  Che. 
And put 'em on himself?  Dor. 
Yes Sir.  Che. 
And was sent hither in your stead.  Dor. 
Yes, that he was.  Phe. 
Oh Heavens! This is the most wicked impudent Dog living. Aloud in a passion.  Pyth. 
Alas Sir! Are ye not convinced that we have been most basely abused?  Phe. 
No wonder if a cracked Chambermaid believes this Scoundrel: Angrily to Pyth.— But the truth on't is, I am somewhat graveled myself softly— Hark ye Sirrah, deny all, or I'll cut your Throat aside to Dorus— Can't I rack the Truth out of ye to day? Did ye see my Brother Cherea? Aloud to Dorus.  Dor. 
No indeed, Sir. Fearfully.  Phe. 
I see there's nothing to be done without blows.— This way ye Dog— He hunts Counter.— Down o' your Knees, and ask me pardon.  
Aside to Dorus.  Dor. 
kneeling. Good Sir, I beseech ye, forgive me.  Phe. 
Into your Kennel then. Beats him.  Dor. 
hay, hay. Runs out howling.  Ph. 
Faith I couldn't tell how to make a fair come off without this Stratagem. If so, the thing's past cure. Aside.— D'ye think ye Rascal to make a May-game of me. Aloud to Dorus.  Exit after him. Pyth. 
My Life on't, this damned plot is of Parmeno's contriving.  Dor. 
You may swear it.  Pyth. 
I'faith I'll pay him in his own Coin before I sleep.— But prithee Doria, what wouldst advise me i'th' Case?  Dor. 
You mean in the young Gentlewoman's Business?  Pyth. 
Yes, whether we had best keep it to ourselves, or tell on't.  Dor. 
In truth, if you're wise, take no notice of the Eunuch, or the Girl either: for by that means you'll keep out of harms way, and oblige our Lady besides. You need only say the Eunuch has given us the slip:  Pyth. 
I'll follow your Counsel.  Dor. 
But yonder comes Mr. Chremes;— My Lady isn't far behind then  Pyth. 
What makes ye think so?  Dor. 
Because the Captain and she were almost at Daggers drawing when I left 'em.  Pyth. 
Then away with the Casket quick:— I'll learn of this Gentleman what's to do.  Exit Doria. To her, enter Chremes half drunk. Chr. 
to himself. Hey-dazy!— I ha' been finely bubbled I'faith.— This Wine has been too hard for me.— The time I was toping,— I thought myself as sober as a Judge,— But when I came to try my Legs,— S bud my Feet nor my head knew which was to go uppermost.—  Pyth. 
Oh Mr. Chremes!  Chr. 
Who's that?— Oh, the pretty, pretty, Phythie! Why thou art worth forty of the Phythies I saw last.  Pyth. 
And upo' my Word you're forty times more pleasant than you were before.  Che. 
The old Say very true, If twasned for Meat and good Drink the Women might gnaw the Sheets.— But your Mistress has been come home a long time I suppose?  Pyth. 
Why is she come from the Captain's then?  Chr. 
Oh a damnable while— They were quarrelling like Dog and Cat.  Pyth. 
Didn't she desire ye to follow her?  Chr. 
No, she only tipped a Wink at me as she went away.  Pyth. 
And wasn't that Item enough?  Chr. 
No Faith: I couldn't tell what her winking and twinking meant till the Captain very civilly gave me to understand it by thrusting me Head and Shoulders after her.— But see she's upo' th' Back on's already.— I wonder what Devil brought me hither before her. Enter Thais.  Tha. 
to herself. I believe this hectoring Bully will be upon my Back presently to take away the Girl by force: Ay let him come: if he offers to touch her but with one finger I'll pluck his Eyes out;— I can away with his Impertinencies and big Words, as long as they are but Words; but i'faith if he comes to touch our Copyhold once, I'll make him smart for't. Angrity.  Chr. 
Ah Madam, I've been here a long while.  Tha. 
My dear Chremes! 'twas you I wanted; Arned you sensible this Quarrel was upo' your account? And the whole business a concern of yours?  Chr. 
Of mine? Pray how so? As if I had been—  Tha. 
Whilst I'm taking pains to help you to your Sister, and restore her to ye, I'm forced to sit down with these and a thousand such like Affronts.  Chr. 
Pray Madam, where is she now?  Tha. 
At home at my House.  Chr. 
Ha! Concern'dly.  Tha. 
What's the Matter? you needned fear; for her education hasned been beneath herself, or you either.  Che. 
What's that you say?  Tha. 
Nothing but the truth. I freely give her to ye, and shan't expect a Farthing for my pains,  Chr. 
I thank ye Madam, and shall endeavour to make ye amends when time serves.  Tha. 
But have a care Sir, you don't lose her before you have her, for 'tis she the Captain is coming to plunder us of by force of Arms.— D'ye hear, Pythia, run n and fetch the Casket and Tokens quick.  Chr. 
discovering Thraso and his party. D'ye see 'em Madam?  Pyth. 
Where is't set, Madam?  Tha. 
In the Chest of Drawers.— D'ye move no faster you Baggage? Exit Pythia.  Chr. 
What an Army has this Fellow mustered up against ye?— Lamentable!  Tha. 
What Cow-hearted my Dear?  Chr. 
Pshaw, I Cow-hearted? I'm as bold as a Lion. Struts.  Tha. 
Ay, and so you had need.  Chr. 
Ah Madam, I doubt ye take me for ●a— strange Fellow.  Tha. 
However take this for your comfort, this Fellow you're to deal with is a perfect Stranger, has less Interest, less Acquaintance, and fewer Friends to back him than you.  Chr. 
That I know too: But 'tisn't for a wise Man to stand behind an Ass when he kicks. I'd rather prevent a Quarrel before hand, than revenge it afterward.— Do you run in and Barricade the Door, whilst I run to the Piazza, and fetch the Constable to keep the Peace. Going off.  Tha. 
catching him by the Cloak. Hold Sir.  Chr. 
I had better go.  Tha. 
Stand your ground pray. still holding him.  Chr. 
Pray let me go, I'll be back again in an instant.  Tha. 
Sir, you need not call any help— do but tell him she is your Sister, and that you lost her when she was young, and are now come to the knowledge of her, then show him the Tokens.  
Re-enter Pythia with the Casket.  Pyth. 
Here they are Madam.  Tha. 
Do you take 'em Sir.— Chr. takes the Casket. If he offers the least violence you may have him before his Betters:— You understand me?  Chr. 
Yes very well  Tha. 
Be sure you speak this with a good Courage.  Chr. 
Edad, and so I will. struts and puts his Arms a Kimbow.  Tha. 
Up with your Cloak Man— Dear Heart I've pitched upon a Champion that wants one himself. Aside Exeunt on one side.  
Enter on the other side Thraso, Gnatho, Sanga, Servants with Link-boys, Fireforks, Shovels, Dishclouts, etc.  Tha. 
Prithee Gnatho; Is't for a Man of Honour to put up such a notorious Affront as this? I'll die upo' th' spot first.— Simalio, Donax, Syriscus, follow your Leader.— First I'll storm their Castle.  Gna. 
Very well.  Thr. 
Then I'll carry off the Damsel triumphantly.  Gna. 
Better and better.  Thr. 
And lastly, I'll put the Jilt under severe Contributions.  Gna. 
Best of all.  Thr. 
Advance Donax with your Truncheon, and Command the main Body.— Simalio Command you the Left Wing, and you Syriscus the Right.— Where are the rest? Where's Captain Sanga with his Ragged Regiment?  San. 
Here Sir.  Thr. 
to Sanga. Ye lazy Son of a Whore! D'ye think to engage the Enemy with a Dishclout, what did you bring that for?  San. 
Who I, Sir? Why I knew the Prowess of my General, and the Carriage of his Soldiers so well, that they could never part without Blood and Wounds, so I brought this to wipe 'em withal.  Thr. 
Where's all the rest of 'em?  San. 
The rest, with a vengeance? There's only Sannio left to keep the House from running away.  Thr. 
Gnatho do you set 'em all in Rank and File.— I'll bring up the Rear, and there give the Signal for the Onset.  Gna. 
This 'tis to be Wise: When he has drawn up his Men in Battalia, he'll make sure of one apost for his own retreat. Aside.  Thr. 
This was always the F— K—'s way.  
Chremes and Thais appear above.  Chr. 
D'ye observe, Madam, what this Cut-throat's about? I see my Counsel wasn't amiss when I advised ye to Barricade the Door.  Thr. 
Pshaw! This Fellow that you take for a Hector, is as Faint-hearted as a Town Bully.— Bear up Man.  Thr. 
to Gnatho. What had we best do?  Gna. 
Had we but a Mortar now to play upon 'em under the Covert way; one Bomb would make 'em scamper.  Thr. 
discovering Thais. But hold, yonder's the Enemy.  Gna. 
Shall we give the Assault, noble General?  Thr. 
Hold I say.— Wise Commanders usually send a Summons before they Storm: Perhaps she'll surrender upon Discretion before we make the Assault.  Gna. 
Oh wonderful! What plaguy things these Politics are? I never am in your company, but I go away the wiser for't.  Thr. 
to Thais. Thais answer me the first Article, when I gave ye Pamphila, didn't ye promise me so many days to myself?  Tha. 
What of all that?  Thr. 
That's a pretty Question!— Didn't ye bring one of your Gallants under my Nose? What business had ye together? Why did you slink away with him from my House?  Tha. 
'Cause 'twas my Pleasure.  Thr. 
Why then deliver up Pamphila, unless you'd have her carried off by force.  Chr. 
Deliver her to thee? Touch her if you ●a●e: Thou worst of— Angrily.  Gna. 
to Chremes. Ha! Sir have a care, not a word more.  Chr. 
Do you prate, Buffoon.  Thr. 
Shan't I touch what's my own?  Chr. 
Thine, Villain?  Gna. 
to Chremes I say once again, have a care Friend; I see you done't know who you speak to?  Chr. 
to Gnatho. Won't ye be gone, ye Rascal 〈◊〉 to Thraso And you, Captain Swash, d'ye know what to trust to? If ye give us the least disturbance here, I'll make ye remember the Place, the Dav, and Person you affront too, as long as you breathe.  Gna. 
to Chremes. Poor Wretch! I pity ye, that ye should provoke so great a Man to be your Enemy.  Chr. 
I'll crack your Fool's Pate for ye, if ye bened gone presently.  G●na. 
Say you so, Mr. Snarle? Are your Hands so heavy?  Thr. 
to Chremes. Pray who are you for a Man? What would you have? And what have you to do with the Girl?  Chr. 
That ye shall know presently: First, I say she's's Freeborn.  Thr. 
So!  Chr. 
And a Citizen of Athens.  Thr. 
How!  Chr. 
And my Sister too.  Thr. 
Oh Impudence.  Chr. 
Therefore Captain, Jeeringly. I tell ye once for all, lay hands on her if you dare.— to Thais Now, Madam, I'll step and fetch Sopl●ona, the Nurse, and show her the Tokens.  Thr. 
Why will you, Sir, hinder me from meddling with what's my own?  Chr. 
Yes, that I will. Withdraws.  Gna. 
to Thraso. Bear witness, this Chremes own 〈◊〉 himself a Thief, he has done his own business.  Thr. 
to. Thais Do you say the same too?  Thr. 
Go look. Withdraws.  Here Thraso and Gnatho stare at one another. Thr. 
What shall we do next?  Gna. 
E'en let's march home again— By and by she'll come fawning like a Spaniel to beg your Pardon.  Thr. 
Think ye so?  Gna. 
Nothing more certain, I know the humour of these women well enough; when you will, they won't, and when you won't, they will.  Thr. 
Thou hast hit it.  Gna. 
Shall I dismiss the Army?  Thr. 
When you will.  Gna. 
to Sanga. Well Captain, you and yours are discharged, now like a noble General take your Army into Quarters of Refreshment i'th' Kitchin.  San. 
Troth my belly chimed Cupboard above half an hour ago.  Gna. 
Well said Tom Prog.—  Thr. 
Fellow your Leader. Exeunt shouting  
The End of the Fourth Act.   

ACT V.  Thais and Pythia. Tha. 
entering. D'Ye speak in Riddles still ye dirty Quean? In another Tone mocking her. I do know, I don't know, he's fled, I heard on't, but was not there. Hussy, can't ye tell me in plain terms whatever the Matter is. The poor Girl's Gown's rend, she's all in Tears, and won't speak. The Eunuches fled too; But why?— What's done?— What not answer?—  Pyth. 
Alas, Madam, What would ye ha' me say? when they all affirm 'twasn't a Eunuch that was here.  Tha. 
Who was't then●  Pyth. 
One Mr. Cherea.  Tha. 
What Mr. Cherea?  Pyth. 
The young Gentleman, Phedrie's Brother.  Tha. 
what's that ye say ye Witch?  Pyth. 
Nothing but what is certainly true.  Tha. 
Pray what should he do here? Upon what account came he hither, pray?  Pyth. 
I can't guests, unless he was in Love with Pamphila.  Tha. 
'S death, I'm undone then, all my Measures are broken if this be true. Is't for this the poor Creature bemoans herself so?  Pyth. 
So I believe, Madam.  Tha. 
How's this ye Baggage? Didn't I give you a particular Charge about her, when I went away.  Pyth. 
What could I do i'th' Case? You ordered that she should be wholly committed to his care?  Tha. 
Oh you Jade, you set the Wolf to keep the Sheep: I'm ashamed to the Soul to be so cursedly fooled.— see Cherea afar off. But what fellow's that?  Enter Cherea at a distance still in the Eunuch ' s Dress. Pyth. 
used, Madam! Patience I beseech ye: All's well, we have got our Spark in Lob's pound.  Tha. 
Where is he?  Pyth. 
' Is't! on the Lefthand; Don't you see him?— look there then.  Tha. 
I see him.  Pyth. 
Seize him immediately.  Tha. 
What can we do to him, Fool!  Pyth. 
Do to him, say ye?— See, I beseech you, what a cursed impudent Look he has got,—  Tha. 
I see no such thing.  Pyth. 
And with what Confidence he comes to us.  Che. 
to himself. Antipho's Father and Mother were both at home, as if they'd stayed there on purpose, that I couldn't possibly get in without being discovered. The time I was in th' Porch, an Acquaintance o'mine came that way. Upon this, I takes me to my heels as fast as I could, runs into a blind Alley, then to another, and so to a third. Thus did I dance up and down in a Peck of Troubles to prevent a discovery.— But hold, is that Thais? The very same.— I'm at a plaguy stand what to do.— Pshaw, what care I? She can neither hang, draw, nor quarter.  Tha. 
Let's up to him.— O good Sir Dorus, you're welcome home.— Pray tell me, Did you run away from us?  Che. 
True as you say, Madam. Looks simply.  Tha. 
And are extremely pleased with this vagary I warrant?  Che. 
Not so extremely neither Madam.  Tha. 
D'ye think you shall come off so?  Che. 
Well Madam, pardon me this one Fault, if you catch me in another hang me up.  Tha. 
Were you afraid that I should prove a harsh Mistress, that you ran for't?  Che. 
No indeed Madam.  Tha. 
Of what then?  Che. 
Why I was only afraid this woman should ha' told Tales of me. Pointing to Pythia.  Tha. 
Why what have you done then?  Che. 
A small matter.  Pyth. 
Impudence! A small matter d'ye call it?— Is ravishing a Virgin and a Citizen so small a Matter in your account? In a Passion.  Che. 
I took her for one of my fellow Servants.  Pyth. 
Thy fellow Servant? I can scarce keep my Nails out o'th' Eyes of him.— Thou Devil incarnate! Are you come to laugh at us too? In a great Fury.  Tha. 
to Pythia. Keep off you Bedlam.  Pyth. 
Why Madam? As if there could ha' been any thing done to me, if I had pulled his Locks for him, since he owns himself your Servant?  Tha. 
Trifling aside,— Indeed, Mr. Cherea, you ve done a very unworthy thing, and which did not become ye, for though I had deserved this Affront never so much, yet 'twas dishonourable for you to do't. As I live, I know not what course to take about the poor Girl. 've so broken all my Measures, that I can't possibly return her to her Friends, neither as I ought to do, nor as I intended: that I might ingratiate myself among 'em by so complete an Obligation.  Che. 
Now, Madam, I hope to see a lasting kindness betwixt us both. For from such bad Beginnings as this oft the greatest Friendships rise. And who knows but some lucky Star has ordered this?  Tha. 
Why truly I interpret it thus, and wish it from my Soul.  Che. 
And I beg it might be so. Believe this one thing, 'twasn't to affront you, but pure love caused all this.  Tha. 
I do believe it, and therefore rather pardon it: For I'm not of that Nature, Mr. Cherea, nor yet so insensible myself as not to know some what of the Power of Love.  Che. 
As I hope for Happiness, Madam, I'm extremely taken with you.  Pyth. 
Faith, Madam, look to yourself then.  Che. 
I would'nt hurt her if I might.  Pyth. 
I'll trust ye no farther than I can see ye.  Tha. 
Leave prating, Fool.  Che. 
Now, Madam, I must crave your Assistance in this great Design. I trust and commit myself wholly to your disposal, and beg your Protection. Let me die, if I don't marry her.  Tha. 
But what if your Father?—  Che. 
What he?— I'm sure of his Consent, could she be proved to be a Gentlewoman.  Tha. 
If you please to stay a little her Brother will be here straight: He's but stepped for the Nurse that brought her up. And so Sir you may be by at the Discovery.  Che. 
Then I'll stay.  Tha. 
I think we'd better go in i'th' mean time than stay at the Door.  Che. 
With all my Heart.  Pyth. 
D'ye know Madam whatyou're going to do?  Tha. 
Why that Question?  Pyth. 
Why? Sure you don't intent to take this Blade into your House again.  Tha. 
Why not?  Pyth. 
Trust me for once Madam, he'll make some new Disturbance.  Tha. 
Prithee leave your tattling.  Pyth. 
It seems you han't made sufficient trial of him then.  Che. 
I'll do no harm good Mrs Pythia.  Pyth. 
I'll not trust ye an Ace good Mr. Cherea.— ●anless your Head were off.  Che. 
But Mrs. Pythia thou shalt be my Keeper.  Pyth. 
No Faith, who will trust their selves with you, either to keep or be kept by ye? Away with ye.—  
Enter at a distance Chremes and Sophrona.  Tha. 
What luck's here, here's the Brother just upon us.  Che. 
Alas-a-day! I beseech ye Madam, let's in. I would'nt for the world be seen i'th' Street in this Dress.  Tha. 
Why so? 'Cause you're ashamed on't?  Che. 
Yes indeed am I  Pyth. 
Yes indeed am I, say ye? For the young Woman Cherea! clapping her Hands at him.  Tha. 
Do you go in, Sir, I'll follow ye.—  
Exit Cherea But do you stay here Pythia to bring in Mr. Chremes. Exit. Thais.  Pyth. 
to herself. What Trick now? what mischief can I think of?— How shall I contrive to make this Rogue Parmeno pay Sauce for this damnable Cheat, he has put upon us?  Che. 
Come, bestir yourself Nurse a little faster.  Soph. 
So I do you see.  Chr. 
Ay, but you don't advance.  Pyth. 
to Chremes. Have you shown Nurse the Tokens?  Chr. 
Yes all of 'em.  Pyth. 
Pray, Sir, what says she? Does she know 'em again?  Chr. 
Ay, and remember 'em very well.  Pyth. 
That's good News introth, I wish the poor Gentlewoman well with all my Heart.— Be pleased to walk in, my Lady has looked for ye some time.— Exeunt Chremes and Sophrona.  Enter Parmeno at a distance. 
Yonder comes that precious Rogue Parmeno,— In the Name of Heaven, how unconcernedly the Fellow stalks it?— But I believe I have found out a way to revenge myself on him as I would wish.— I'll go in and see the Truth of this Discovery, then I'll come again and fright the Rascal to some Tune. Exit Pythia.  Par. 
alone. I'm come to see how Cherea carries on his Intrigue; which if it be managed cunningly, goodly, goodly! what Monuments of Praise are due to my Worship? For to say nothing of procuring him the Person he loves without Trouble, Fees, or Charges, when the Amour might have proved very difficult and costly from a covetous Bawd: I've done that which I think I deserve a Statue for; Having shown this Spark a way to know all the tricks and customs of these common Jilts, and by timely notice to abhor 'em for ever after. When they're abroad forsooth, none so cleanly, none so modish and genteel, none so delicately neat as they: when their Ladyship's feast with their Gallants, they feed as nicely as possible: But to see the insatiable Gluttony, the vile Nastiness, the griping Penury of these filthy Jades at home, how greedy of a Crust, how eagerly they slabber and soss up Brown-George out of stinking Pottage; to know all this before hand may be the saving of a young man.  Pyth. 
at the Door overhearing him. Faith I'll be even with you for your Rogueries 've said or done; you shall have small Joy Sirrah, in making Sport with us.  
Enter Pythia, taking no notice of Parmeno.  Pyth. 
entering. Bless me! what a base unworthy Action's this: An unfortunate young Gentleman! And Parmeno, an ungracious Wretch to betray him hither!  Par. 
What's in the wind now? Aside:  Pyth. 
to herself It grieves me to the Soul Dear Heart, I left the House in haste to get out of the sight on't— What a dreadful Example do they say they'll make on him?  Par. 
Heavens! what new mischief's this? Is my Plot come to this then?— I'll even speak to her. Aside.— what's the matter M●s. Pythia? what's that you talked of? who's that will be made an Example?  Pyth. 
D'ye ask that, ye desperate Fool? why 've quite ruined the young Gentleman you had brought for the Eunuch, when you thought, I warrant, you had put a trick upon us.  Par. 
How so?— what has happened?— Prithee tell me.  Pyth. 
I will so.— You don't know then that the Girl that was presented to my Lady to day, is a Gentlewoman of this Town, and her Brother a Person of Quality?  Par. 
I know nothing on't.  Pyth. 
But so it proved.— And 'twas she that your poor wretch ravished. When her Brother knew of it, a most bloody-minded Fellow,—  Par. 
What did he do? Fearfully.  Pyth. 
— First bound him Hand and Foot, 'twould grieve your heart to see it.—  Gna. 
Bound him? Damnation!  Pyth. 
— Tho my Lady begged all she could for him.  Par. 
What say ye? Hastily.  Pyth. 
Now he threatens to serve him like a common Horner, a thing I ne'er saw, nor wou'dned for the world.  Par. 
With what Face can he answer so great a Villainy? Pyth. Why so great, I beseech you?  Par. 
Why isn't it the greatest of all Villainies?— Pray, who e'er heard of one apprehended for a Fornicator in a common Bawdy-house?  Pyth. 
I can't tell that.  Par. 
That you mayn't say you don't know on't, this I declare, and forewarn you, that 'tis no less than Mr. Phedrie's Brother,—  Pyth. 
How? Prithee, 'tisn't he? Is't?  Par. 
— Therefore your Lady had best take care he comes to no harm— But why done't I break into the House myself? Offers to go.  Pyth. 
Have a care what you do Parmeno, you'll do him no good, and ruin yourself into the Bargain; for every body believes 'tis all your contrivance.  Par. 
coming back. What course shall I set upon? Seeing Laches at a distance Oh, yonder comes my old Master from his Countryhouse— Shall I tell him on't or no?— Studies.— Introth I will, though I certainly know I shall make a Rod so my own Breech. Necessity has no Law, he must rescue his poor Son.  Pyth. 
You do well.— I'll go in.— Be sure you tell him the whole Story from the beginning to the end.  Enter Laches. Laches 
to himself. I always find this advantage from the nearness o' my Countryhouse, that I'm never much tired with the Town or Country: When I begin to be sick of the one, I shift Lodgings to the other.— But isn't that our Man Parmeno?— 'Tis he, as I hope to live.— Parmeno! Who is't you wait for at this House?  Par. 
turning short. Who's that there?— Ah, Sir, you're welcome to Town.  Lac. 
Who d'ye wait for? Ha!  Par. 
I'm Thunderstruck, I can't wag my Tongue for fear. Aside,  Lac. 
Ha! What's the matter? Why d'ye shake so? Is all well at home? Prithee tell me.  Par. 
First I'd have you be fully satisfied of this one thing, Sir, that whate'er has happened, I'm as innocent as a newborn Babe.  Lac. 
Why, what's the matter?  Par. 
That's well asked, for I should ha'● told you that before.— Mr. Phedrie bought an Eunuch, which he presented to this woman.  Lac. 
To what woman?  Par. 
Thais.  Lac. 
He buy Eunuches?— S'bud, I'm undone then.— what did he cost?  Par. 
Fifty pounds.  Lac. 
I must run my Country then.  Par. 
Then his Brother Cherea fell in Love with a Musick-Wench.  Lac. 
How! what? Is he in Love too? Does he know what belongs to that Sport already? Is he come from his Post to the City?— One Plague upon another! Angrily, looking on Parmeno.  Par. 
Pray Sir, don't you direct your Discourse to me, I wasn't his Counsellor.  Lac. 
Speak another word about yourself, you Hangman? and as I live.— But tell me the whole business quickly.  Par. 
Mr. Cherea was sent there instead of the Eunuch, Sir.  Lac. 
Instead of the Eunuch.  Par. 
Very true Sir, and now 've appehended him for a Rape, and have bound him Hand and Foot.  Lac. 
Hell and Furies!  Par. 
But mark the Impudence of these Jades.  Lac. 
Is there any Roguery you han't told me on yet?  Par. 
've heard all, Sir.  Lac. 
Why don't I break in upon 'em?  Exit Laches. Parmeno 
alone. I don't question but I've brought an old House upon my Head by this day's work; and yet I couldn't possibly avoid it.— Howe'er I'm pleased that these Strumpets shall feel some of the smart by my Means. The old Gentleman has sought an occasion this half Year, to make notorious Examples of some of 'em, and now I think he has found one.  Enter Pythia. Pyth. 
to herself. I'faith this was the pleasantest Scene I e'er saw in my Life, to see the old Gentleman come blundering upon us in such a mistake. I had all the Sport to myself, because I knew his Ailment.  Par. 
overhearing. What a Plague's here? Aside.  Pyth. 
to herself. I'm now come to see for the Fool Parmeno.— But where in the name of goodness shall I find him?  Par. 
O'my Soul she looks for me. Aside.  Pyth. 
to herself. O! I see him, I'll be with him presently.  Par. 
What's the matter Mrs. Impertinence? What would you be at? what are you so tickled at?— what ne'er a done?  Pyth. 
Oh my Sides!— I've almost burst my Sides with Laughing at thee.  Par. 
Your Reason, pray?  Pyth. 
A pretty Qnestion!— Faith, thou'rt the arrantest Ass I e'er did, or shall set my Eyes on? 'Tis utterly past my skill to tell thee what excellent Sport thou hast made within.— I took thee for a cunning ingenious Fellow.—  Par. 
How's this?  Pyth. 
Had ye no more wit than to believe presently what I said? were you not ashamed of the Villainy you put the poor Gentleman upon, but you must tell Tales of him to his Father? How simply did he look, think ye, when his Father surprised him in that disguise? What? Don't you see what a fine pass you have bronght yourself to?  Par. 
Ha! How's this you filthy Carrion? Did ye tell me a Lie, and then laugh at the Wit on't? D'ye think it such fine Sport to abuse us ye Jade.  Pyth. 
Oh the finest sport i'th' World.  Par. 
D'ye think you shan't pay dearly for this?  Pyth. 
Perhaps so.  Par. 
Ay, Faith shall ye.  Pyth. 
I fancy as much. These Threats may come to Morrow, but you'll be hanged to day for entering a young Gentleman a Debauchee, and then discovering it, they'll both have a pull at your Coat for this.  Par. 
I'm a Reprobate.  Pyth. 
You see the Reward of your Roguery; and so Good b'ye to ye. Exit Pythia.  Par. 
alone. Like a senseless Fool! I've betrayed myself like Rats with their own Squeaking.  Enter Thraso and Gnatho at another part of the Stage. Gna. 
to Thraso. What's in hand now, Sir? Upon what Assurance or Design came we hither? what Enterprise next, Sir?  Thr. 
Who I? I'll even surrender myself to her upon discretion, and even do as she'd have me.  Gna. 
How, Sir?  Thr. 
Why should I be less submissive to this Lady than Hercules was to Omphala?  Gna. 
A pat Example,— would I could see the Slipper fling at your soft Head too. Aside.— But what makes her Door open? Discovering Cherea. What mischief's a foot now?— I think I never saw that Face before.— What makes him cut Capers thus as he comes out?  Enter Cherea. Che. 
to himself. Come my dear Countrymen, was ever any Man born under a happier Planet than myself? Not a Man upon my word. For 'tis plain the Powers above to show in me how great their Sovereignty is have singled me out, on whom they have showered down so many Blessings all at once.  Par. 
Why's he so merry trow?  Che. 
My dear Parmeno! 'Tis to thee I'm indebted for the Rise, the Advancement, and the Perfection of my Comforts.— Dost know my dear sweet Creature's proved a Gentlewoman?—  Par. 
I heard it by the buy, Sir.  Che. 
— And that she's to be my Bride?  Par. 
As I hope to be Knighted that's Admirable.  Gna. 
D'ye hear, Sir, what he says? Aside to Thraso.  Che. 
Then I am hearty glad my Brother's Amours are in such a happy Condition. The Families are both united now; Thais has put herself wholly under my Father's Care and Protection, and is wholly ours.  Par. 
Then, Mr Phedrie is like to have her for good and all.  Che. 
Yes, indeed.  Par. 
This too is worth a laughing at, for the mighty Captain's routed.  Che. 
Do you take care that my Brother may know of this as soon as ye can, wheresoever he be.  Par. 
I'll see for him at home. Exit Parmeno.  Thr. 
So Gnatho, Dost not think I'm gone to all Intents and Purposes?  Gna. 
There's no thinking otherwise.  Cherea 
to himself. Where shall I begin first?  
Or whom commend most? Him that advised me to do't, or myself that had the Heart to venture upon't, or the good Fortune that directed us both, and that brought so many Circumstances of so great moment, and so luckily too into the Compass of one Day.—  
Or shall I praise the Indulgence of my Father?  
Great Jove! that dost poor Mortals Fate secure, secure,  
Grant that our Joys may with our Lives endure.  Enter Phedrie. Phe. 
to himself. Bless me! Parmeno tells me Wonders. But where's my Brother?  Che. 
Here at your Service.  Phe. 
I'm extremely glad for your good Fortune, Brother.  Che. 
I believe so, and truly Brother, there's ne'er a Mistress more worthy to be beloved than yours, she has so vastly obliged our Family.  Phe. 
Heyday! Do you commend her before my Face.  Thr. 
to Gnatho. I'm quite undone! The less I Hope the more I Love? Good Gnatho, I rely wholly upon thee  Gna. 
What would you ha' me do Sir?  Thr. 
Bring it about either for Love or Money. that I may continue a little in Madam Thais Favour.  Gna. 
That will be hard.  Thr. 
You can do't I know, if you give your Mind to't: If ye perform it, Command what Gift or Reward you please, 'tis your own?  Gna. 
Shall it so Sir?  Thr. 
It shall indeed.  Gna. 
Why then Sir, if I do't, I desire to have free Egress and Regress into your House, whether you be at home or abroad, and a Place at your Table, whether invited or no.  Thr. 
It shall be so upon my Honour.  Gna. 
Well, I'll make an Effort.  Phe. 
Whose Tongue's that?— O Captain is't you?  Thr. 
Gentlemen, I'm your humble Servant.  Phe. 
Perhaps you know not what has happened at this House.  Thr. 
Yes Sir, I do.  Phe. 
What makes ye scouting in these Quarters then?  Thr. 
Under your Protection, Gentlemen.—  Phe. 
D'ye know the Protection you're to expect? Take this from me Goodman Captain, if I find you sauntering here again in the Street, you mustned think to shame me off with; I was looking for a Friend, and my Business lay this way, for you're like to have no Quarter.  Gna. 
Soft Sir, that's not like a Gentleman.  Phe. 
I'll be no worse than my word.  Gna. 
Indeed Sir, I didn't think you'd been so huffy.  Phe. 
You'll find it just so.  Gna. 
Pray be pleased, Gentlemen, to hear your Servant Gnatho, a word or two, and then do what you please in this Affair.  Phe. 
Let's hear't then.  Gna. 
Do you Captain move a little a Thraso stands off. one side: In the first place, let me beseech ye both to be persuaded, that whate'er I do i'th' case is purely for my own sake, but if your Interest should jump with mine, you be unwise if you don't follow my Council. ●  Phe. 
Out with't then.  Gna. 
What if you took the Captain in amongst ye too? Fawningly.  Phe. 
How amongst us?  Gna. 
Consider a little better Sir.— Why faith you and your Mistress live very high, for you're used to an easy splendid Life, 've but a small Allowance yourself; and this Thais will be requiring more: Now that you may supply her, and save your own Pocket, there's not a fit or more convenient Ur●nsil than this Blunderbuss i'th●whole World. F●● 〈◊〉, he has Money enough at Command, and the more prodigal on't than he. Then he's a Soft-headed Fool, and a Half-witted Coxcomb, and a sumbling Fellow that snores Night and Day. Yet needned fear the Gentlewoman's falling in Love with him; than you may kick him out of Doors when you please.—  Phe 
to Cherea. What had we best do?  Gna. 
Then, Sir, what's best of all, he treats as high and nobly as a Lord.  Phe. 
Ten to one but we may have occasion for this fool sometime or other.  Che. 
I'm of that Mind too.  Gna. 
Gentlemen, I'm obliged to you.— One Favour more let me beg of you, to admit me also into your retinue.— I've been cleaving of that Block long enough already.  Phe. 
We grant it.  Che. 
And with all our Hearts.  Gna. 
Then in requital Gentlemen, here's to the fleecing and jeering the Cully to death.  Che. 
That's well.  Phe. 
He deserves it.  Gna. 
to Thraso. Now noble Captain you may make your Approaches.  Thr. 
And prithee how do Matters stand?  Gna. 
How? the Gentlemen didn't know your worth: when I had informed 'em of your good Qualities, and given 'em a Character of ye as your noble Actions and Virtues deserve, your Suit was granted. Aside to him.  Thr. 
to Gnatho. Well hast thou done.— To Phe. and Che. Gentlemen, great thanks do I return ye. I never was any where, but that all kind of People loved me most dearly.  Gna. 
Didn't I tell ye how choice he was of his Expressions; polite upo' my word.  Phe. 
Now there's nothing wanting; You may retire.  Turns to the Spectators. 
Gentlemen adieu, one kind Applause.   
The end of the Eunuch.   

THE Self-Tormenter. A COMEDY, Acted at the Feast of Cybele, WHEN L. Valerius Flaccus, and L. Cornelius-Lentulus were Curule Edil's, By the Company of Ambivius Turpio.  
It was taken from the GREEK of Menander;  
Flaccus made free by Claudius, Composed the Music, which was perform▪ d the first time of Acting on unequal FLUTES; The second time on two Right-handed FLUTES.  
This PLAY was Acted a Third time,  
Under the Consulship of Titus Sempronius, and M. Juventius.  
A. U. C. 591. Ante Christ 159.   

Dramatis Personae.  

MEN.  
Chremes, An old Gentleman hard by Athens, of a Nature somewhat strict and severe; very busy, and a great Meddler.  
Menedeme, A Gentleman, Chremes' Neighbour; The Self-Tormenter; of a Melancholy, yet of a softer and milder Disposition than the former.  
Clitipho, Chremes' Son, a hot, wild Spark; a lose Lover, and somewhat stubborn to his Parents.  
Clinie, His Friend, Menedeme's Son; of a civil, courteous, pliant Temper, passionately in Love with Antiphila.  
Syrus, Servant to Clitipho, and his Instructor; a very sly, subtle, active, intriguing Fellow: always plotting against Chremes, and tricking him of Money.  
Dromo, Servant to Clinie.   

WOMEN.  
Sostrata, Chremes' Wife, of a soft, easy and indulgent Nature, very submissive to her Husband.  
Antiphila, A young Gentlewoman; Clinie's Mistress, very innocent, modest, loving, and faithful.  
Bacchis, A noted Courtesan, kept by Clitipho, a haughty, proud, impudent, drinking, chargeable Miss.  
Phrygia, Her waiting Maid.  
Antiphila's Nurse.   
SCENE, The Fields near ATHENS.  
The TIME about Ten or Eleven Hours.   

THE Self-Tormenter.  

ACT I.  
SCENE, The Country before Chremes' Door. TIME, The Shut of the Evening.  Enter Chremes, and Menedeme, with a Rake, &c upon his Shoulders, returning from the Field. Chr. 
Tho' our Acquaintance is but very short, for it began, ye know, upon your buying this Farm here next mine; that and little else being the occasion of it, yet, either your own worth or your Neighbourhood, which I esteem next door to Friendship, makes me take the boldness with all freedom to tell ye, that you do not seem to live as becomes either your Age, or your Condition. For in the Name of Heaven and Wonder! what do ye do with yourself? what would ye be at? If a body may Judge by your Face, you writ Threescore at least. I don't know any that is better seated; has a prettier Estate; or is better served than you: and yet you manage all the Business yourself, as if you hadn't a Soul i'th' World to help ye. Let me go out ne'er so early in the Morning, or come home never so late at Night, there you're at it, Digging, Ploughing, or Lugging something or other; in a perpetual hurry, without any regard to your Quality or Person, I'm very certain you don't do this for your diversion.— Perhaps you'll say, I hate to see my Work go on so slowly: Let me tell ye, Neighbour, if you'd bestow but half the Pains upon your Servants, that you do upon your Ground, your Business would go on ten times faster.  Men. 
Chremes, ha' you so much leisure from your own Business, as to mind another Man's that dosned concern ye?  Chr. 
Common Humanity, Sir, obliges me to be so concerned, as I'm a Man: And therefore you may take what I say either by way of advice, or by way of enquiry: that if what you do be well, I may do so too; if ill, I may divert you from it.  Men. 
I have Reason for what I do: you may do as you please.  Chr. 
Can any Man ha' Reason to torment himself?  Men. 
I have.  Chr. 
If there were any just occasion for this toiling and moiling of yours, I should'nt be against it. But then I would gladly know what it is: and what ye ha' done to deserve so ill of yourself.  Men. 
hay ho! Weeps.  Chr. 
Never cry for the Matter: but whate'er 'tis let me know't: Out with it: Fear nothing, but Depend upon me. I'll either condole with ye, or ●vise ye, or assist ye in what else I can.  Men. 
Would ye needs know't then?  Chr. 
For the very Reason I just told ye of.  Men. 
I'll tell ye then.  Chr. 
But pray Sir, down with your Tools the mean time, and done't tyre yourself so.  Men. 
By no means.  Chr. 
Pray what's your design in't?  Men. 
Ah! Let me alone, that I mayn't indulge myself one minute.  Chr. 
Indeed, Sir, but I won't. He forces the Rake, etc. from him.  Men. 
Ah! that's not fair.  Chr. 
Bless me! What a weight's here?  Men. 
I deserve it all.  Chr. 
Come, come; out with't now.  Men. 
I have an only Son, a Youth.— What did I say I have? Ah Chremes! I had one indeed; but whether I have now or no, I know not.—  Chr. 
Why d'ye say so?  Men. 
I TWO tell ye, Sir.— Hard by dwells a poor old Woman of Cornith, whose Daughter my Son began to be so fond of, that it had like to have been a Match; and all this without my knowledge; When once I found out the Intrigue, I began to take him to task roundly; and not with the tenderness that is due to the Weaknesses of Youth: But extremely sharp I was, after the common ranting way of Fathers. I was every day taunting at him: How now, said I, d'ye think to go on after this vile rate? And keep a Mistress so openly, whilst I am living? No Clinie, you're mightily mistaken, and don't know me, if you think so; I shall look upon ye as mine, as long as ye do what ye ought to do; but if otherwise, I know what I ought to do, and you shall find it. I know this is only the effects of too much Idleness; when I was at your Years I didn't give my Mind to Women; but was forced to go a Soldier into Asia to get a Livelihood; where by the War I got me both Riches and Honour too. At last, Matters came to that pass, that the poor Boy hearing the same thing pressed upon him so often, and so gravely, was brought over. And thinking my Age and Prudence better Guides than his own, he shipped off for Asia, and went Reformade under the King of Persia there, Mr. Chremes.—  Chr. 
How's that, Sir?  Men. 
He stole away without my knowledge, and has been gone a whole quarter of a year Weeps  Chr. 
You're both to blame. Yet what he has done showed both an ingenuous Temper, and a brave Spirit.  Men. 
When I heard of this Journey from some of his Intimadoes, I went home with a Heart full of Sorrow, my Mind half distracted, not knowing where to turn my Head for Grief. I sat me down, my Servants all attend my beck, some help To undress me, others run to lay the Cloth, and get my Supper ready? And all most diligent to assuage my Grief? At sight of this, I thus began to muse: Alas! Must so many sweat and toil for me alone? So many strive to humour me? So many Women spend their time to adorn my House and me? Shall all these vast expenses be for me alone? For me, whose Cruelty has driven hence my Son? My only Son, who ought t'have an equal share with me or more, since Youth can better relish these Enjoyments. If I still keep this course of Life, no plague too great can light upon my Head. Whilst he thus lives in penury a●●cad, banished from home by my mies severily, Ill even revenge his wrong upon myself: I'll labour, spare, 〈◊〉, and scrape up all for him. With that I put my resolution in practice; for I've turned all things 〈◊〉 o' doors left neither Dish, nor Bed for use, 〈◊〉 pulled down all. I turned off all my Maid's 〈◊〉 Men too, except a few to till my Land, which were no charge to me. I exposed all to Sale, and put House to be Sold over the Door. I raised the Sum of two or three thousand Pounds, and bought this Farm, where I toil and moil every day: I'm fully persuaded Neighbour, I do less injury to my poor Child whilst I'm in Misery, as well as he: nor ought I to take any manner of Pleasure till he return safe to be sharer with me.  Chr. 
I believe you are an indulgent Father, and he as dutiful a Son, if mamged to the best advantage: But indeed you didn't know his Temper, nor he well yours: And when things are so, there's no living. You never told him how much you valued him, nor had he that confidence in you which he might have presumed upon. If this had been, things had never came to this.  Men. 
Very true, Sir, I confess; but I'm most in fault.  Chr. 
In troth, Sir, I hope the best yet, and do verily believe you'll see him safe at home ere long  Men. 
Ah! Heavens grant I may.  Chr. 
I'll warrant ve, Sir.— This is Bacchus' Day; and I should be galled of your company ac Supper to night, if you could conveniently.  Men. 
I must beg your pardon for that.  Chr. 
Why so?— Pray Sir give yourself some little Refreshment. In sure your absent Son would gladly have it so  Men. 
There is no Reason I that forced him to hardship, should shift it off myself.  Chr. 
Is that your resolution?  Men. 
'Tis so, Sir.  Chr. 
Good night t'ye Sir.  Men. 
And to you too.  Ex. 
Menedeme with his Rake upon his Shoulder. Chremes alone. I profess he has forced Tears from me, and I can't but pity the poor Gentleman.— But as the day goes 'tis time for me to invite my Neighbour Phania to Supper.— Ill call in and see if he's at home.—  Steps to Phania's Door and returns. 
Oh, I see he need not be reminded, for they tell me he's at our House already.— I make my Guests stay for me now: Ill in to 'em.— But what makes the Door go?— who's that comes out of my House.— I'll step a little a one side.  He retires. Enter Clitipho. Clit. 
to Clinie within at Chremes' House. As yet you needned fear Clinie: they han't been such a while away; I'm confident she'll be here, and the Messenger too in a short time. Therefore shake off these causeless Fears that so torment ye.  Chr. 
Who's that my Son talks to? Aside.  Clit. 
Oh! Here's my Father; just as I was wishing for him, Ill up to him.— Sir, In glad 〈◊〉 met with ye  Chr. 
Why what's the Matter?  
〈◊〉 Sir, die know our Neighbour Mr. Mene 〈…〉?  Chr. 
Yes, very well.  Clit. 
And that he has a Son too.  Chr. 
Yes, I heard he's in Asia.  Clit. 
No, Sir, but he's now at our house.  Chr. 
Indeed!  Clit. 
I happened on him just at his Landing, and brought him hither to Supper, for 've been very intimate form our very childhood.  Chr. 
Your News pleases me strangely.— What would I give now that Mr. Menedeme had come when I invited him, that I might have been the first to have surprised him with these joyful tidings. I believe 'tisn't too late yet.  Clit. 
O Sir, have a care what you do, twoned be proper.  Chr. 
Why not?  Clit. 
Because he's in a great Quandary what to do with himself. He's but just come ashore, and is dismally afraid, both of his Father's displeasure, and his Mistress' Inconstancy; whom he love; most entirely. 'Twas upon her account that all this stir, and his parting from his Father was occasioned.  Chr. 
I know't.  Clit. 
He has just now sent his Footboy into the City to her, and I made our Syrus go along with him.  Chr. 
What says the young Man to the world?  Clit. 
What, Sir? why that he's the greater Wretch in it.  Chr. 
He the greatest? No man less. Does he want for any thing that the World calls good? his Father's well, his Country happy, he has store of Friends, Relations of good Quality, and 〈◊〉 plentiful Estate. And these always prove good 〈◊〉 had according as the Man is; they are blessings 〈◊〉 those that know how to use 'em, but plagues 〈◊〉 them that do not.  Clit. 
But, Sir, his Father was always a cro's old Gentleman. And I'm afraid of nothing 〈◊〉 much, as that his Passion should make him 〈◊〉 his Son worse than he deserves.  Chr. 
What he cross?— I'll say no more, though, 'tis convenient he should stand in some awe of his Father. Aside.  Clit. 
What's that you say to yourself, Sir?  Chr. 
I say, that however the Case stood, he ought to have stayed at home. If his Father was a little more harsh than agreed with his debauchd Inclinations, he should have taken it patiently; for whom should he bear withal, if he can't with his Father? Which is most proper, think ye, the Father to live after the Son's humour, or the Son according to his Father's: As for the young Man's pretending he's hardly dealt by, 'tis no such matter. For the Severities of Parents, (I mean such as are not excessively severe) are very much the same; namely, they won't suffer their Sons to be always at the Bawdy-house, nor always at the Tavern; and will allow 'em but a little spending Money; and yet all this is for their children's good. For when ones Mind is quite drenched in Debaucheries, all that he does will have a notable Smack on't. And Son take this for a Rule, Never to buy Wit, when you can have it at another Man's cost.  Clit. 
I fancy so.  Chr. 
I'll go in, and see how Supper goes forward You know how late it is, therefore don't be out of the way. Exit Chremes.  Clitipho 
alone. What unconscionable Creatures these same Fathers are! to expect their Children should turn Philosophers in their hanging Sleeves, without so much as touching upo' the Levitieses of youth. They measure us by their own depraved Appetities as they are at present, and not as they were formerly.— Well! If ever Heaven send me a Son o' my own, he shall have an extreme loving Father of me: For he shan't be afraid to make me his very Confessor, and I'll be sure to give him Absolution: I'll not do as mine, who slyly insinuates his Morals by a side Wind. It vexes me,— when he gins to be Mellow, he'll then tell me of all his old Pranks! but now he reads me a Lect re, about Buying of Wit at other men's costs. A crafty Gentleman i'faith! Little does he think that he has preached to the wind. My Mistress' Words stick more in my Stomach by half than all his Preachments: Give me this fine thing, and buy me that: And i'faith I can't answer her a word. There's none so damnably put to't as I.— Although this Mr. Clinie has enough lying upon his own hands, yet his Mistress is well and modestly brought up, and unacquainted with the tricks of the Town: but mine's an imperious, craving, stately Dame: damnably expensive, and as proud as the Devil. When she asks me for any thing, I return her a Nod; but to tell her I han't for her, is a Mortal Sin.  
I did but lately these damned Tricks espy, Yet all lies hushed and kept from Daddy's Eye.  Exit. 
End of the First Act.   

ACT II.  Enter Clinie as from Chremes 's, and Clitipho behind him at distance. Clin. 
to himself. HAd there been any good News for me about my Mistress, I'm sure they'd ha' been here before now. But I'm horribly afraid some Body has been tampering with her in my absence. There are a thousand circumstances running in my Brain that rack my Mind: Opportunity, Place, Youth, a wicked Mother that governs her, and that would pawn her Soul for Half a piece.—  Clit. 
Mr. Clinie.  Clin. 
What a Wretch am I?  Clit. 
Have a care, Sir, that none of your Father's Family drop out and see you here.  Clin. 
I'll look to that.— But I'm afraid there's some mischief towards, for my mind misgives me strangely.  Clit. 
D'ye use to judge of things, before ye know what they are.  Clin. 
Why, if there hadn't been some unlukiness i' th' wind, we should have seen 'em before this time.  Clit. 
They'll be here in a minute, Sir.  Clin. 
But when will that Minute come?  Clit. 
You don't consider that 'tis a great way off. ' And when Women, ye know, fall once to Powd'ring and Combing, they are an Age a rigging out.  Clin. 
Ah, Clitipho, I'm very uneasy.  Clit. 
Bear up man,— yonder comes Dromo and Syrus both together.  Enter Syrus and Dromo at another part of the Stage talking together. Syr. 
to Dromo.— Say'st thou so my Lad? Hah!  Dro. 
Just as I tell ye.  Syr. 
But hold,— Looking about him. Whilst we go twattling on, 've lost the women.  Clit. 
D'ye hear that Clinie? Your Mistress will be here presently.  Clin. 
Yes, I do hear at last; and now am come to some Life and Sense again, Clitipho.  Dro. 
to Syrus Faith I don't wonder they lag behind; having drawn so great a train at their Heels.  Clin. 
overhearing Dromo. Confusion! How came she by such a Train?  Clit. 
D'ye ask me, Sir?  Syr. 
to Dromo. Troth we did not do well to leave 'em so, for 've things of considerable value about 'em,—  Clit. 
All's past recovery.  Syr. 
— As Jewels and fine .— Besides 'tis somewhat duskish, and they know not a step o' th' way.— In sober sadness 've done like a couple of Fools.— Prithee Dromo, do you go back, and meet them.— Make haste: what d'ye stay for?  Exit Dro. Clin. 
Oh cursed misfortune, how basely have my hopes deceived me!  Aside. Clit. 
What's the matter? what makes ye so concerned now?  Clin. 
So concerned say ye?— Don't ye hear what a train of Servants, what Jewels and fine  she brings with her? when I left her but with one Girl to wait upon her: where should she have all this, think ye?  Clit. 
Po! Now I know his Distemper.  Syr. 
to himself. Bless me! What a damnable crew is coming?— I'm sure our House will scarce hold 'em all— What a plaguy deal will they eat and drink, and how woefully our old Master will be put to't!— But hold here are the Sparks I wanted.  Clin. 
Oh Heavens! What's become of true Faith? Whilst for your sake, Antiphila, I fled my Native Country like a rambling Madman; you have feathered your Nest finely at home, and left me in the midst of all my troubles. You, I say, that are the cause of my foulest disgrace, and of my being so regardless of my Father. Now I'm ashamed and troubled to the Soul, that he who read me so many good Lectures upon the Tricks of those Creatures, lost all his Advice; and was not able to make me leave her. But now it must be done: When it might have been much to my advantage, than I would'nt,— Not a Creature more miserable than me.  Syr. 
aside. Faith Mr. Clinie has misunderstood every Syllable we were talking of.— To Clinie. Hark ye, Sir; you think worse of your Mistress than she deserves: for as far as we can gather from circumstances, she's still the same Woman; and her Heart as true to you as ever.  Clin. 
How's that? prithee tell me. For I'd desire nothing i'th' world sooner than to find my jealousies falsely grounded.  Syr. 
In the first place, that you may be sure to know all: the old Woman that went for your Mistress' Mother was nothing related to her; and she's gone to her long home. This by chance I heard Antiphila tell the other, as I was coming along.  Clit. 
Prithee what other was that? Hastily.  Syr. 
Good Sir, have patience, and let me finish my first Story, and then I'll come to yours.  Clit. 
Dispatch it quickly then.  Syr. 
To begin; when we were got to the House, Dromo knocks at the Door; out comes an old Woman: as soon as she had opened it, Dromo whips in, and I after him; the old Woman claps to the Door, and falls hard to work again. And now was the time or never, Sir, to learn how your Mistress had spent her time in your absence; since we dropped upon her unawares, and this gave us an opportunity of making a Guess at their common Practices; which give the best Light into People's Humours. We found her hard at it, making of Tapestry, meanly dressed in a Suit of Morning, for the old woman that's dead, I suppose. She had no rich or gaudy Attire on, but dressed like those homely Dames that have no Gallants to see: Nor yet daubed over with nasty paint: But her Hair loosely shevelled, and carelessly thrown about her Shoulders. Forbear! Clinie going to speak.  Clin. 
Prithee honest boy, don't feed me like a Fool.  Syr. 
Well Sir, the old woman she spun: besides her there was a Girl weaving too with patched , ill dressed and very nasty.  Clit. 
If this be true, Mr. Clinie, as I fancy 'tis, thou'rt the happiest Man alive. Didn't you mind how sluttish and nasty he said the Maid was? That's a certain sign Man, the Mistress is honest ' when the Confident goes in Rags: for 'tis always the way to Fee the Chambermaid first, before they make court to the Mistress.  Clin. 
Prithee, dear Rogue, on with your Story, but have a care of currying Favour by your Flams. What said she, when you first mentioned me?  Syr. 
When I told her you were landed; and desired her company forth with, she immediately threw aside her Work, and couldn't speak for crying; which, you may be sure, was all for your sake.  Clin. 
As I hope for Mercy, I'm so transported, I scarce know where I am, I was in such a fright but just now.  Clit. 
I knew, Sir, there was nothing amiss.— Now 'tis my turn, Syrus: Let's know who that other was.  Syr. 
've brought Madam Bacchis your Mistress, Sir.  Clit. 
How?— Bacchis d'ye say? Why ye cursed Dog whither d'ye bring her. In a passion.  Syr. 
Whether d'ye bring her? Why to our house, Sir.  Clit. 
What to my Father's Sirrah? Hastily.  Syr. 
Yes, to your Father's.  Clit. 
To see the Impudence of this Rascal!  Syr. 
Hark ye, Sir, Eaint Heart never won fair Lady.  Clit. 
Look to't Sirrah, shall you pretend to advance your own Reputation upo' my cost: If you step but the least awry, I'm gone to all intents and purposes— And what will ye do then?  Syr. 
But Sir—  Clit. 
But, What?  Syr. 
I'll tell ye, if you'll give me leave.  Clin. 
Prithee give him leave.  Clit. 
Well then.  Syr. 
The case is thus,— as if—  Clit. 
Pox he's going to tell a Story nine hours long.  Clin. 
I think so too.— Therefore, Syrus, leave fooling, and come to the point.  Syr. 
In troth Sir, I can hold no longer, you're grown so troublesome, that there's no dealing with you.— To Clitipho.  Clin. 
to Clitipho. Faith you should give him the hearing tho, therefore pray be silent a little.  Syr. 
You'd have a Mistress, Sir; you'd enjoy her, and be able to present her too, but you would'nt run any hazard for her. Really you are wondrous wise: If it be wisdom to aim at that which can never be. You must either take the Hazard with the Prize, or lose the Prize and run no Hazard. Now, Sir, take which side you love best: Tho I'm very certain the Plot I've laid is both well contrived and safe: First, you'll have the liberty of your Mistress' Company under your Father's Nose, without the least danger; and then by the selfsame means I shall find a Trick to nib the old Man o'th' Money you promised her; for which 've so often deafened my Ears with your Duns. And what a Deuce would you have more?  Clit. 
Provided it be as you say.  Syr. 
Hang your Provideds, can't you run the hazard on't.  Clit. 
Well, come on then, your Plot, how is't laid?  Syr. 
Your Mistress shall go for this Gentleman's—  Clit. 
Very fine!— But prithee, what shall we do with his own then? Shall she be clapped upon his Back too, as though one wasn't enough to crack his Credit.  Syr. 
We'll have her to your Mother's.  Clit. 
What to do there?  Syr. 
Faith, Sir, 'twill take up nine hours indeed to give ye the Why's and Wherefore's. 'Tis enough, that I ha' reason for't.  Clit. 
Mere stuff! I can see nothing as yet to remove my suspicions.  Syr. 
Hold Sir.— If you're afraid of this Plot, I've another in my head, which I'm sure you'll both own to be safe enough.  Clit. 
Prithee invent me such a one as that.  Syr. 
That I will in an instant.— I'll give 'em the meeting, and pray 'em to face about, and march home again.— Scornfully.  Clit. 
Ha! What's that you say?  Syr. 
I'll rid you of your Fears with a vengeance: that you may be sure to sleep sound in a whole Skin.— Is going off.  Clit. 
to Clinie. What had I best do now?  Clin. 
What you Sir? Why even make good use of—  Clit. 
Hark ye, Syrus, tell me truly what I should do.  Syr. 
Away, away, you'll wish ye had, when 'tis too late.  Clin. 
Here's a fair Opportunity offered; make good use on't while you may; you aren't sure of having the like again.  Clit. 
Why, Syrus, I say.  Syr. 
Bawl till your Heart ache, I'll on for all that.  Clit. 
to Clinie. In good earnest you're i'th' right on't.— But hark ye, Syrus; Syrus I say; foho Syrus.— Aloud.  Clit. 
No Syrus; I throw myself, my Love, my Reputation too into your Hands. Ill leave all to your determination; but see you discharge your Trust well.  Syr. 
That's Counsel worth laughing at i'faith: As though my Game wasn't at stake as well as yours. If an unlucky cast comes up, and spoils all our Designs, you'll come off with a Reprimand, or so; But poor Pilgarlick must meet with a dry beating. Upo' this Score, I must mind my Business very colsely. But you must beg this Gentleman to gallant your Mistress the while.  Clin. 
He may be sure of my assistance: And as the case stands I'm obliged to't.  Clit. 
Oh, Sir, I'm extremely engaged to ye.  Clin. 
You must take care Bacchis bened out in her part.  Syr. 
Oh, she has her Lesson to a tittle.  Clit. 
For my part, I wonder how you could wheadle her to come so soon; for she sometimes would scorn the very best of ye.  Syr. 
I took her in the very critical minute, which is the most nicking Advantage: For who should I find there but a sneaking Captain paying his Devoirs for one single Night's Lodging; she managed this poor Devil tightly with such Artifice, as to inflame his greedy Appetite by keeping him at Bay: and at the same time to do a Signal piece of Service to you.— But hark ye Sir, have a care of making any false step: You know how plaguy shap-sighted your Father is in these Intrigues. And I can tell, how hard it is for you to keep yourself within compass. You must have a mighty care of all double-meaning expressions, of casting a Sheep's Eye over your left Shoulder; of sighing, spitting, humming and jeering.—  Clit. 
Faith I'll act it rarely.—  Syr. 
See that you do then.  Clit. 
— You yourself shall admire me for't  Syr. 
But see how quickly the Ladies come after us?  Clit. 
Where are they? why die hold me Boy: To Syrus holding him.  Syr. 
've nothing to do with her now.  Clit. 
Right, not before my Father.— But till then.—  Syr. 
No nor till then neither.  Clit. 
Come let me go.  Syr. 
still holding him. Not a step, I say.  Clit. 
Prithee, for one minute.  S●r. 
That I forbidden too.  Clit. 
A civil Respect at least.  Syr. 
Get ye gone, if 've any Guts in your Brains.  Clit. 
Well I'm going, but what must Clinie do?  Sir 
Stay here  Clit. 
He has a fine time on't!  Syr. 
Troop off, I say.  Clitipho walks on a little a one side. 
Enter at a distance Bacchis, Antiphila, Dromo, Waiting-Maids, etc.  Bac. 
In troth, dear Philie, I can't but commend ye, and think ye very happy; in being so careful as to make your good Behaviour wholly answerable to your Beauty. As I'm a Sinner, I don't admire that all the Sparks of the Town should die for ye, since your Discourse discovers the Sweetness of your disposition: For my part, when I come to consider the Life and Conversation of all such as you, who are ned common to every Coxcomb, I don't wonder to find ye so modest and virtuous, and ourselves so very little like ye. For you it is the best way to be honest, but our Gallants won't suffer us to be so. Our Beauty makes 'em adore us for a while, but when that's decayed, the Sparks are mad for a new Face: So that if we didn't provide for ourselves in time, we might e'en pine away the rest of our days in a Desert. For you Madam, that take up with a Person, whose Age and Nature is correspondent with your own, he wholly keeps himself to you, and by mutual consent your Loves are made firm; and nothing can ever separate your Hearts.  Ant. 
I'm little acquainted with others; myself I know well enough, who always take care that my dear Clinie's Happiness should be the Foundaof my own.  Clin. 
overhearing. Ah, my dear Antiphila, 'tis for thy sake alone that In come home again; for whilst I was from thee all the Hardships I was put to were nothing to the being deprived of thy sweet Company.  Syr. 
to Clitipho peeping from his Covert. I believe him, Sir.  Clit. 
I can scarce contain myself old Boy! Is't not a plaguy thing to be debarred of one's Humour? Ha!  Syr. 
to Clitipho. As far as I can perceive your Father will make ye smart for't, if you bent gone.  Bac. 
What young Gentleman's that which ogles us so?  Ant. 
seeing Clinie. Oh,— lend me your hand 〈◊〉 beseech ye.  Bac. 
For Heaven sake, what all ye my Dear?  Ant. 
I'm going.— Faints away.  Bac. 
Help.— Alas, poor Soul!— Antiphila Recovers a little. How came this Fit upon ye my Philie!  Ant. 
in a soft Tone Do I see my Clinie, or do I dream.  Bac. 
who's that you see?  Clin. 
My Life, my Soul; Heavens bless thee.— Embracing.  Ant. 
And thee also my long wished for dear Clinie.  Clin. 
How is't my dear?  Ant. 
Well, since I've got you again my Dear.  Clin. 
embracing. And have I got you again, my Dear, within these Arms? You that I have so passionately longed for?  Syr. 
Come, come, turn in: The old Man and his Supper stays for ye. Exeunt omnes.  
End of the Second Act.   

ACT III.  Chremes alone. 
'TIs just break of Day: And why should'nt I knock at my Neighbour's door now, and give him the first news of his Son's Return, though the young man I fancy will hardly thank me for it? But when I see the poor Geneleman take on so extremely for his Sons leaving him, how can I find in my heart to keep from him this unexpected comfort, since his Son will be never the worse for't neither? This must not be. For I will assist the old man to the utmost of my power. And as I perceive his Son and mine help one another all they can, and go hand in hand together in all their concerns; so it is but reasonable that we their Fathers should do one another all the good Offices we are able.  Enter Menedeme on the other side of the Stage with a Rake, etc. upon his Shoulders. Men. 
to himself. Either I'm born under the Fatality of an unlucky Planet, or that old Say worth nothing, that Time cures all things. For this absence of my Son afflicts me every day more and more; and the longer he's away, the more I desire to see him again, and the more I miss him.  Chr. 
to himself. Oh, yonder's the Gentleman himself coming from home; I'll to him, and discourse.— Morrow to ye Neighbour, I'm come to ye with such News, that I believe you'll be hearty desirous to know what 'tis.  Men. 
Why, Sir, have ye heard any thing of my Son then?  Chr. 
He's safe and sound. Sir.  Men. 
Where is he, I beseech ye?  Chr. 
At my House, Sir.  Men. 
What my Son?  Chr. 
Yes, your Son.  Men. 
Is he come home then?  Chr. 
Yes, indeed.  Men. 
My Boy Clinie come home?  Throws down his Rake, etc. Chr. 
Even so.  Men. 
Let's be going then.— I beseech ye, Sir, bring me to the sight of him.  Chr. 
But he would'nt for the World have ye know he's come back: He avoids your Presence upon the account of what he has done; and is now afraid, you should be more severe than ever.  Men. 
And didn't you tell him, how I was quite another man?  Chr. 
Not I Sir.  Men. 
Why didn't ye?  Chr. 
Because if he finds you so soft, and give way so easily, 'twill be the whose for him and you too.  Men. 
It can't be helped; for I've been too too severe a Father already.  Chr. 
Ah, Sir, you are always upon the extremes, either too profuse or too sparing; you run into the same inconveniencies by one as well as the other. Formerly you forced your Son out of Doors rather than suffer him to keep a Mistress, who then was contented with a little, and would have been glad to have snapped at any thing: but when she was forced, by his leaving her, to grow common, and now can't be kept without a Mine of Money; now you give him his full liberty. For to let you know how she is accoutred for the Ruin of Mankind; she carries at her Heels no less than ten or a dozen Waiting-Maids, with a great luggage of Golden Trappings; were a Prince her Gallant, he d be put to t, to maintain her: Don t you think to do't.  Men. 
Is she at your House too?  Chr. 
She at my House say ye?— Yes, to my cost, I ve made but one Treat for her and her Retinue; and I faith, if I make another, I must be forced to run my Country. To omit other Charges, what a cursed deal of Wine has she consumed me by her tasting and sipping only: Crying, Good old Father, this same Wine is too rough, pray, Sir, let's have some that is more smooth. I pened every Cask and Pipe in my Cellar, and all my Servants we: as busy as so many Bees: And this was but one night's work; what will become of you then when they ll pray upon ye every day? As I'm ● living Soul, Sir, I hearty pity your condition.  Men. 
E'en let him do as he lists: Let him take it, spend it, make Ducks and Drakes of it; I've resolved to bear it, so I can but have him at home with me.  Chr. 
If you be so much set upon't: I believe 'twill be much the better way to conceal your Design, what're you allow him.  Men. 
What would ye have me do?  Chr. 
Any thing rather than that you intended● Can't you convey him Money by a second hen● and let your own Servant bubble ye or so? And the truth on't is, I have an inkling that that are about some such thing already; and that they are contriving how to do t most cleverly. My Man Syrus, he whispers with yours, and the young Men they lay their Heads together too: And 'tis better to lose a Pound this way than a Penny t other. 'Tisned so much the Money, Neighbour, that is to be minded, as the manner how to give it him with the least danger: For if he once finds which way the Stream runs, and that you had rather part with your Life and Money too, than lose him: Fie! What a vast Gap do you lay open to his Debaucheries? So that your Life will be a burden to ye; For too much Libe●● corrupts an Angel: Whatsoever Crotchet comes in his Crown, he'll be for't without considering whether his Demands be reasonable or no: You ll never endure to see your Estate go to wreck, and your Son spoiled into the Bargain. If you refuse him a Farthing; he'll fall to the old Dogtrick, which he finds will work most upon ye, and threaten to be gone forsooth.  Men. 
All this seems true and probable enough.  Chr. 
Troth, Sir, I couldn't sleep one wink this Night for racking my Head to restore to you your Son.  Men. 
Your hand Sir.— I hope, Sir, you'll go on as you ve begun.  Chr. 
I m ready to serve ye.  Men. 
D'ye know what I mean, Sir?  Chr. 
Let's hear't.  Men. 
That you'd hasten 'em in the Design, you perceive they have, of getting the Money from me: For I long to give my Boy what he wants, and as much to have a sight of him.  Chr. 
I'll do my best, Sir, I must take my Syrus in Hand, and give him his Leston.— But hold some body's coming out of my House.— You had best get out o'th' way; for fear they perceive we are plotting together. A little business at present calls me hence; for my Neighbour Simus and Crito have some difference about some Lands, and made me their Referree: I'll go tell 'em they must not look for me to day, as I promised them: I'll be here again in a minute.  Men. 
Pray Sir do. Exit Chremes.  Menedeme 
alone. Bless me! What an odd composition Men are of! that they should see further and judge better of other People's Affairs than their own? It may be, because in our own concerns we are too much prepossessed by our Passions of Joy or Grief. This same Chremes now, how much wiser he seems to be for me, than I am for myself? Going off.  Enter Chremes. Chr. 
to Mededeme as he is going off. I have got clear of them both, that I may serve you with more leisure.  Exit Menedeme with his Rake, etc. upon●h Shoulder is Enter Syrus at a distance. Syr. 
to himself. Well, Friend Syrus, take this way or that way, Money must be had by hook or by crook; and our old Fox must be trapped too.  Chr. 
partly hearing. I waned mistaken I perceive when I said they were about some such design. Clinies' Man is a poor dull Tool, but mine's a sharper; he must do the Business.  Aside. Syr. 
Whose Tongue's that?— Zookers all's spoiled? Did he hear me trow or no?— Aside,  Chr. 
Syrus!  Syr. 
What is it you, Sir?  Chr. 
What's your business here?  Syr. 
No great matter.— You're a brave Man, Sir, to be stirring so early this morning, after such a rattle last Night.  Chr. 
Why there was no hard drinking.  Syr. 
No hard drinking, say ye? marry, I think, you re heart of Oak.  Chr. 
No more of that.  Syr. 
This same Wench of Clinie's is a good sort of a Wench, and pleasant enough.  Chr. 
Ay, so I found.  Syr. 
And in troth has a very good Face too.  Chr. 
So so.  Syr. 
Tho, not comparable to the Women in your days: but really as the World goes now, the Woman is very well: And I don't wonder Clinie is so desperately smitten: But he has a Father, a covetous, miserable, griping old Hunks, our next Neighbour; Do ye know him Sir?— Because he is afraid he should be starved himself, he has turned his poor Son out a grazing; D●n● you know what I say to be true?  Chr. 
Ay, Why not?— There's a Rascal deserves the Strappado.  Syr. 
What Rascal, Sir?  Fearfully. Chr. 
The dull Rogue Clinie's Man.—  Syr. 
(Faith Syrus I was plaguily afraid of thy Corpse.  aside. Chr. 
— That suffered all this.  Syr. 
What could he do?  Chr. 
What could he do? Why he might ha' found out some device, or invented any slight to have helped the young Gentleman to Money for his Mistress: And so ha' saved the stingy old Fellow from all this vexation, whether he would or no.  Syr. 
You're pleased to rally Sir.  Chr. 
'twas no more than his Duty, Syrus.  Syr. 
Pray, Sir, do you approve of those that put tricks upon their own Masters?  Chr. 
Yes, if there be just occasion for't.  Syr. 
Very well I faith.  Aside, Chr. 
Sometimes a little Tricking saves a great deal of Trouble: As in this Case, 'twou'd ha' kept his only Son from rambling.  Syr. 
Faith I can't tell, whether he's in jest or in earnest: However he encourages me to that which I had a plaguy mind to before.  Aside. Chr. 
And now, Syrus, why does the Fellow idle away his time so, till his Master be forc d to march off a second time, for not being able to defray his Mistress' Charges: Won't he raise one battery against the old Man's Pocket.  Syr. 
The Fellow's a Fool, God bless him  Chr. 
You should give him one Push for the young Gentleman's sake.  Syr. 
Sir, I'd dot with all my Heart, if you'd say but the Word; for I'm a complete Master of that Art.—  Chr. 
So much the better.  Sir, 
— I don't use to fail, Sir.  Chr. 
Why do't then.  Syr. 
But pray, Sir, take care to remember this, if it should chance one day to be your Son's case, for you know we are all subject to failings.  Chr. 
Ihope, I shall have no occasion for that.  Syr. 
Troth, so do I: nor do I mention this, because I suspect any such thing; but I say again, if it should chance to happen so, that you mightned,— You see he's but young. And e'dad, Sir, if that time once come, I should manage ye most nobly.  Chr. 
Well talk of that when that time comes. Do you mind your present ●ue? Exit Chremes.  
Syrus alone. Well, I never heard Master talk better than mine upon this occasion. I could never ha' hoped to have had such a large Toleration for Roguery.— But who comes out of our House there?  
Re-enter Chremes with Clitipho.  Chr. 
to Clitipho entering. What Impudence is this I pray? 's this your Trade Clitipho? Do these things become you? Ha!  Clit. 
What did I do, Sir;  Chr. 
Didn't I see ye just now with your hand in the Courtesan's Bosom?  S●r. 
listening. All's out, I'm quite broke.—  Aside, Clit. 
Who I, Sir?  Chr. 
These very Eyes saw it: come don't stand in a lie. You deal basely by the Gentleman that you couldn't keep your hands to yourself. For 'tis a great Affront to entertain a Friend, and then play an underhand Game with his Mistress. How strangely uncivil you were last night at Supper too?  Syr. 
You re i'th' Right on't, Sir. To Chremes.  Chr. 
And how troublesome too? That, as I'm a living Soul, I was miserably afraid it should ha' cost you a Duel. I know the humour of these Lovers is to resent things extremely, which no body dream of.  Clit. 
But, Sir, he has a mighty confidence in me, and knows I won't serve him an unhandsome Trick.  Chr. 
What then? But you might ha' left 'em together a little while however: Lovers have a thousand things to say and do, which your Presence is a curb to; I know this by myself: for I have never a Friend i'th' world, Clitipho, that I dare trust all my private Actions with: I'm afraid of my Superior, and ashamed of my Equal, lest the one should take me for a Fool, and the other for a Debauchee.— Suppose it to be his Case: For 'tis our Duty to know when and where to be complaisant to a Friend.  Syr. 
D'ye mind what he says?  Aside to Clit. Clit. 
Ay, to my Sorrow.  Aside. Syr. 
Didn't I tell you of this before? But 've played the part of a very stayed and reserved Gentleman! Aside, and jeeringly to Clitipho.  Clit. 
Prithee hold your Tongue.  Syr. 
You are i'th' right, Sir.  Chr. 
I swear Syrus, I'm ashamed of him.  Syr. 
So I believe, Sir: and good reason too, for it grieves me also very much.  Clit. 
What ne'er a done?  Angrily. Syr. 
Faith, Sir, I speak as I think.  Clit. 
to Chremes. Mustn t I come nigh 'em then?  Chr. 
Yes, in a civil way, but not as you do.  Syr. 
aside. Our Plot's just sinking: He'll betray all before we get one Bag of Money.— to Chremes. Pray, Sir, will ye be pleas d to take a Fool's Counsel for once? Chr. What's that?  Syr. 
To order him to withdraw a little  Clit. 
Whither, I pray?  Angrily. Syr. 
Whither? why whither you please, make room for the Lovers, and take a turn the while.  Clit. 
I take a turn? To what place?  Syr. 
Pish! as if ye wanted a place to walk in: take this way, or that way, or which way you will.  Chr. 
He says right, I'll have it so.  Clit. 
Confound ye for a Dog! for sending me to the De'el's Arse a peak.  Syr. 
Keep your Hands to yourself then another time. Aside to Clitipho.  Exit. Clitipho. Syr. 
What say ye, Sir? What d'ye think will become of this Son of yours, if ye don't, with the utmost Authority of a Father, give him due Correction and Instruction?  Chr. 
Let me alone for that.  Syr. 
Ay, Sir, and now's the time you must watch him.  Chr. 
I'll warrant ye.  Syr. 
Ay, so you had best: for he minds me every day less and less.  Chr. 
But hark ye Syrus, tho'! Ha' ye considered the business, I told ye of? He ' ye found any Plot according to your Mind yet?  Syr. 
You mean about the bubbling of Menedeme.— Is't Sir! I've just now stumbled upon one.  Chr. 
Thou'rt a brave Lad: Prithee what is't?  Syr. 
I'll tell ye, Sir: But as one thing brings out another. Chr. What then Boy?  Syr. 
This same Bacchis is a plaguy Jade.  Chr. 
So I thought.  Syr. 
aside. Yes, if you knew all.— Do but observe what a Whore's trick she's going to play. Here lives an old Woman of Corinth, to whom this Baggage had lent above thirty pounds.—  Chr. 
Very well!  Syr. 
This old Woman's dead and gone, and left her young Daughter whom she, keeps in pawn for for the Money.  Chr. 
So then.  Syr. 
Her has this Bacchis brought along with the rest: and she's now in your Lady's Apartment.  Chr. 
Well, and how then?  Syr. 
She baits at Clinie to lay down the Money, and then she'll give him the Girl for an Acquittance. But she demands the full sum of Thirty Pounds.—  Chr. 
Does she so?  Syr. 
Who! D'ye question it?  Chr. 
I did— But what d'ye mean to do next?  Syr. 
Who I Sir?— I'll away to Mr. Menedeme's tell him that this Girl was spirited away from Caria, that she's one of a rich and noble Family, and he'll get the Lord knows what, if he'll ransom her.  Chr. 
've missed the Mark.  C●r. 
Why so, Sir?  Chr. 
I'll answer ye for Menedeme: I'll have nothing to do with her: What's your Reply?  Cyr. 
Pray, Sir, speak more to our Mind.  Shr. 
There's no occasion for that.  Syr. 
No occasion, Sir?  Chr. 
No marry is there.  Syr. 
Why, Sir? I don't take your meaning.  Chr. 
I'll tell ye presently.— Stay, stay, a little!— What's the meaning of this bustle at our Door.  Enter at a diflance Sostrata, with a Ring in her Hand, and the Nurse. Sost. 
to the Nurse entering. If I bened mightily mistaken, this is the very Ring I suspect my Daughter had about her when exposed.  Chr. 
What means my Woman by this talk, Syrus?  Sost. 
How is't Nurse, is't not the same think ye?  Nur. 
Truly, Madam, I said 'twas the same, as soon as e'er I saw't.  Sost. 
But did ye view it well?  Nur. 
Oh, very well, Madam.  Sost. 
Do you go in; and bring me word whether she has bathed herself; the mean time I'll wait here for my Husband. Exit Nurse.  Syr. 
to Chremes. She wants you Sir, you had best step and see what she'd have. I can't guests why she's so i'th' dumps: 'Tisned for nothing I'm sure— I fear the worst.  Chr. 
Pshaw! What should it be? She's only big with Fool, and wants to be delivered.  Sost. 
Ha, my good old Man!  Chr. 
And my good old Woman too.  Sost. 
I was looking for thee my Bird.  Chr. 
Well now, your pleasure.  Sost. 
First, I'd desire ye to believe that I would ned do any thing against your Commands.  Chr. 
That's very hard to believe, but if you'd ha' me, for once I'll believe't.  Syr. 
This clearing herself aforehand bodes some plaguy Mischief. Aside.  Sost. 
Don't you remember, when I was once big with Child, you strictly charged me not to bring it up, if it proved a Girl.  Chr. 
I smell out the business, you have brought it up then. Isn't it so?  Syr. 
If that be true, 'twill make a damned hole in my Master's Pocket.  Sost. 
No such matter: for I gave it to an old Woman of Corinth, a good honest Neighbour of ours to expose it.  Chr. 
Bless us! Was there ever such a Simpleton?  Sost. 
Oh me! What hurt have I done?  Chr. 
What hurt quoth a? Angrily.  Sost. 
Indeed dear Husband! If I have offended 'twas ignorantly.  Chr. 
I know this well enough, tho' you had ne'er owned it, that every thing you say or do is ignorantly and foolishly. How many Blunders ha' you committed in this one thing! First, had you, regarded my Authority, the Girl should ha' been made away withal, and you shou'dned ha' come with an idle flame of her Death, when you did all ye could to save her.— But let that pass, 'twas Fondness, and a Mother's Tenderness: 〈◊〉 bear with●t. But how rarely 've forecasted the Business! And what were your Intentions? Pray consider on't. 'Tis most manifest 've betrayed your▪ Child to this old Woman, either for a common Prostitute, or to be exposed to public Sale. I fancy you thought any thing would serve turn, so her Life was saved. But why should one trouble his Head with such Fools, who know nothing of Justice, Honesty or Reason: Be it better or worse, for 'em or against 'em, they see nothing but what they list.  Sost. 
My dear Chremes! I confess I was much to blame, and am convinced: And now let me beg of ye, as Nature has made you the Wiser of the two, so be the more generous: And let your Goodness protect my Simplicity.  Chr. 
Well I'll forgive ye this Fault: But in sober Sadness, Wife, my good Nature will be the spoiling of ye. But now let's hear the occasion of this Story whate re it be.  Sost. 
As we Women are always very foolish and superstitious; so when I gave the Child to be exposed, I took a Ring off my Finger, and sent it with her; that, if she died, she might ha' carried away some Token of our Kindness.  Chr. 
That's well; so you saved the Child's Life, and had your own Humour into the Bargain too.  Sost. 
showing a Ring. Look ye, this is the very Ring.  Chr. 
How came ye by 't?  Sost. 
The young Gentlewoman that Bacchis brought with her,—  Syr. 
How! Aside.  Chr. 
What says she to't?  Sost. 
— She gave it me to hold, whilst she went to the Bath: At first I took no notice on't; but when I eyed it more narrowly, I knew it, and came running in all haste to acquaint you.  Chr. 
And what can ye suppose or gather from this Gentlewoman?  Sost. 
I can't tell without you'll examine her where she had it, if she can inform you about it.  Syr. 
My Plot's countermined: I find there's more i'th' Wind than I could wish for; she's certainly my Master's Daughter, if this be true. Aside.  Chr. 
Is the old Woman alive ye delivered the Child to?  Sost. 
I don't know.  Chr. 
How did she say she had disposed on't?  Sost. 
Just as I ordered her.  Chr. 
What's her Name, that we may hunt her up?  Sost. 
Philtere.  Syr. 
The very same, She's as surely found, as I'm lost. Aside.  Chr. 
Come, Wife, let's retire.  Sost. 
How things happen beyond my Expectation! I was extremely afraid you'd prove as severe now, as when you gave your first Orders.  Chr. 
A Man can't always do, as he would, if his Estate won't afford't: Now my Circumstances are such, that I should be glad of a Daughter: Formerly 'twas otherwise. Exeunt omnes.  
The End of the Third Act.   

ACT IU.  Syrus alone. 
IF I am not very much mistaken, I'm in a fair way to be utterly routed; all my forces are so miserably straightened, that I shall never come off safe, unless I find out some way to keep the old Man from perceiving this to be his Son's Mistress. For to hope for one souse of Money, or to think of topping upon the old Fellow will be to no purpose. I shall come off nobly, and with flying Colours, if I can compound for a Leg or an Arm. It goes to the very heart of me, to have such a delicate bit snatched so suddenly out of my very Chaps.— What shall I go about?— Or what shall I invent?— I must draw a new Platform.— Hang't, Diligence out does the Devil.— Suppose I go this way to work.— Pox, that won't do— Suppose that way.— IT will be all one.— But I believe this will do't.— No,— Yes, best of all— I have't, I have't: I believe I shall once more come to the fingering of that damned Run-a-gate Money.  
Enter Clinie at a distance.  Clin. 
to himself. From this time forward nothing can happen to me that can give me any disquiet: Such is the Happiness I'm surprised into. I'll so wholly give up myself to my Father's pleasure now, that I'll be far better than he himself can wish.  Syr. 
aside. I wasn't beside the mark I see: The Gentlewoman is really discovered, by what I hear from the Spark— to Clinie. I'm hearty glad, Sir, things are fallen out so favourable to your desires.  Clin. 
Prithee, honest Boy, did you hear on't too?  Syr. 
Yes, for I was by at the discovery.  Clin. 
Did ye ever know any one so fortunate as I?  Syr. 
No, Sir.  Clin. 
Let me die if I'm half so glad for my own. sake as for hers, whom no blessing can be too great for.  Syr. 
I believe so too. Now Clinie it comes to your turn to do us a small kindness: You must remember your Friend, that his business may be secured too, and his Mistress be still concealed from our old Gentleman.  Clin. 
not minding him. Gods!—  Syr. 
Forbear these Raptures.  Clin. 
— Shall my dear Antiphila be mine then?  Syr. 
Won't ye let me speak, Sir.  Clin. 
What wouldst have me do, old Soul? ●m so transported, prithee bear with me.  Syr. 
Faith so I do, but sore against my will.  Clin. 
still not minding him. We shall live as happy as the Gods.  Syr. 
I see my Labour's lost.  Clin. 
Now speak, I'm ready.  Syr. 
But by and by you won't.  Clin. 
Yes, but I will.  Syr. 
I tell ye, Sir, there's some care to be taken, that your Friend's Business be secured. Now if you go away and leave Bacchis at our House, my old Master will immediately find her to be his Son's Mistress: But if you take her along with ye, the Intrigue will be as much i●th' dark, as ever 'twas,  Clin. 
Ah, but Syrus, nothing makes more against my wedding than this; for with what Face can I speak on't to my Father? Do you mind what I say?  Syr. 
Yes.  Clin. 
What shall I say to him? what excuse can I pretend?  Syr. 
What?— I wou'dned have ye say one word of untruth: but even plainly tell him the whole business. Clin. How!  Syr. 
I'd have ye tell him your Passion for Antiphila, and that you'd needs marry her: but that this Bacchis is Clitipho's Mistress.  Clin. 
You demand of me nothing but what is just, reasonable and easy; I suppose you'd have me beg my Father to keep all from your old Gentleman.  Syr. 
You mistake me; I'd ha' your Father tell him the whole story directly, from top to bottom  Clin. 
How! Are you mad or drunk? Introth you'll plainly ruin him: Prithee-tell me how he can have his Business secured, as ye say?  Syr. 
Oh, I reckon this a Master-piece of my Cunning: In this Part I triumph in having that mighty knack and faculty at Juggling as to cheat both of them, by telling the truth: So that when your old Gentleman shall tell our old Gentleman of his Son's Mistress, he shall laugh at it.  Clin. 
So you once more destroy all my hopes of Matrimony: For as long as Chremes believes her to be my Mistress; he'll never venture his Daughter upon me. Perhaps you don't care whether I sink or swim, so you can but serve Clitipho's turn.  Syr. 
What ● Pox! D'ye think I'd ha' ye act the Cheats for ever? One day serves my turn, till I've fingered the Money, that's all: Not a bit longer do I desire.  Clin. 
Will one day serve? But what if his Father should find out all i'th' mean time?  Syr. 
Right! And what if the Sky should fall!  Clin. 
I dread what will come on't.  Syr. 
Dread? A Fiddlestick! As if you weren't able to slip your Neck out of the Collar, when you please; you may clear all by making a full discovery.  Clin. 
Well come on then, let Bacchis be brought over then.  Syr. 
That's very well.— Here she comes.  
Enter Bacchis and Phyrgia.  Bac. 
to Phyrgia entering. I faith this Rogue's impudent Pretences have brought me hither to a fair purpose; in hopes of the Thirty Guinea's he promised me: And if he fool's me now, he shall pawn and cringe, till his Heart ache for me, to come hither again, and I'll not do't: Or else I'll make an Assignation. and appoint a time (which he'll be sure to tell his Master of;) and when Ciitipho's Mind is big with expectation, I'll baffle 'em and not come at all; and than Syrus' Back shall soundly smart for't.  Clin. 
overhearing. She promises very fair, Synod.  Syr. 
D'ye think she's in jest, Sir? She'll as fairly ourform it, if I don't look to my hits.  Bac 
to Phrygia They're in a dead Sleep sure; 〈◊〉 I'll rouse 'em with a vengeance.— Hark ye, Phrygia, did you take notice of Charine's House which the Man showed us just now?  Phr. 
I did Madam.  Bac. 
'Tis the very next House on the Right-hand. Phr. I remember it.  Bac. 
High you thither, full speed: For the Captain is just now with Charine at Bacchus's Feast.  Syr. 
What a Devil's to do now? Aside.  Bac. 
Tell him I'm here sore against my will, and am kept by force: But I'll have a trick to get rid of 'em, and come to him straight. Phrygia going off.  Syr. 
S death! I'm at my last Prayers Aside. Stay Madam, stay, Where are you sending her, I beseech ye? Call her back.  Bac. 
to Phrygia. Get you gone, I say.  Syr. 
The Guineas are just ready, Madam.  Bac. 
Then I'll stay. Phrygia returns.  Syr. 
You shall receive 'em in a minute.  Bac. 
As you please for that: D'ye see me in such haste for 'em?  Syr. 
Pray, Madam, do you know, what you are to do?  Bac. 
What?  Syr. 
You must just step over to Menedeme's, and all your Train must go too  Bac. 
Ye impudent Dog, what d'ye mean? Angrily.  Syr. 
To coin Money for your ladyship's use?  Bac. 
D'ye think me a fit Person to play upon thus?  Syr. 
No, I'm in earnest, Madam.  Bac. 
Have I any business with you there?  Syr. 
No, Madam, but there I'll pay you the Money.  Bac. 
Let's be going then.  Syr. 
Come this way, Madam.  Ex. 
Bacchis led out by Clinie, and Phrygia.  Syr. 
Soho, Dromo.  Enter Dromo. Dro. 
Who calls?  Syr. 
'Tis I.  Dro. 
What's the Matter?  Syr. 
Bring over all Bacchis' Servants to your House quickly.  D●o. 
Why so tho?  Syr. 
Don't stand to ask Questions, let 'em carry all their Baggage with 'em too: The old Gentleman will think his Charge is lessened as soon as his House is clear o'th Lumber: Faith he little thinks he shall pay sawee fort at the long run: And you, Dromo, if you have any Wit, take not the least notice of what you know.  Dro. 
You'll say, I'm a perfect Mute.  
Exit Dromo, and presently reenters with Bacchis' Servants, and their Luggage, crossing the Stage.  After them enter Chremes. Chr. 
to himself. As I'm a Sinner, I can't but pity my poor Neighbour's Case, to see him under such great Misfortunes, as to be forced to maintain this Creature, with all her Family at her back. I'm satisfied he won't feel much for a Week or so, 'cause of his longing desire to see his Son. But when he once comes to find such a vast Charge to continue daily, and that there will be no end on't, he'll wish his Boy at the furthest Indieses.— Oh, here is Syrus very seasonably.  Syr. 
Why don't I board him? Aside.  Syr. 
Ha! Sir!  Chr. 
What makes ye so merry?  Syr. 
I've wished for ye this half hour.  Chr. 
I fancy you ve been tampering with the old Gentleman about somewhat.  Syr. 
You mean that which we discoursed of just now— No sooner said, but done.  Chr. 
In good earnest?  Syr. 
Yes, Sir, in good earnest.  Chr. 
Faith I can't forbear stroking thee. Come hither ye little Rogue, I ll remember thee for this: E'dad I will.  Syr. 
Ah, Sir, if you knew how prettily it jumped into my Brain.  Chr. 
Pho! D ye pride yourself 'cause of your good Luck?  Syr. 
Troth, not I: I only speak the truth.  Chr. 
Let hear t then.  Syr. 
Clinie has told his Father that Bacchis is your Son's Mistress: and that he brought her thither only to cast a Mist before your Eyes.  Chr. 
Very well!  Syr. 
Pray tell me what ye think on't.  Chr. 
'Twas admirable, I swear.  Syr. 
aside. Ay, if you knew all— But mark what Plot's behind.— Then Clinie tells him he has seen your Daughter, is much taken with her, and has a Mind to marry her.  Chr. 
What she that we ve just found to be ours?  Syr. 
Yes, Sir.— And he'll desire his Father to get your consent.  Chr. 
Why so, Syrus? I don't understand any reason for it.  Syr. 
Pshaw! you're so dull of Apprehension.  Chr. 
Like enough.  Syr. 
His Father is to give him Money for the Wedding, to— you take me, Sir?  Chr. 
To buy him a Wedding-suit, I warrant.  Syr. 
Right, right.  Chr. 
But I'll neither give him my Daughter, nor my Promise.  Syr. 
No, Sir? Why not?  Chr. 
Why not, say ye? D'ye think I'll marry her to a—  Syr. 
As you please for that; I didn't say you should let him have her for good and all; but only pretend it.  Chr. 
I hate such Pretences.— Plot as you please, so as you don't make me one of the Plot. Shall I promise to give my Daughter when I don't intent to do any such thing?  Syr. 
I was in hopes you might.  Chr. 
Not a bit on't.  Syr. 
Introth it might ha' been done cleverly; I had ne'er undertaken it, hadn't you urged me to't.  Chr. 
I grant it.  Syr. 
But however, Sir, my Intentions were good.  Chr. 
I d ha' ye by all means do your best to cheat Menedeme, but then I d ha' ye go another way to work.  Syr. 
So I will, Sir, we'll find out one.— But for the Money I told ye your Daughter owes to Bacchis, that must be paid down upo' th' Nail. Neither will you (I presume) shift it off by saying, What is t to me? Did she lend me the Money? Was't done by my Orders? What had she to do pawn my Daughter, without my consent? As for that, the old Saying s true, You may have much Law o' your side, and but little Equity.  Chr. 
I ll ha' none of these shifts.  Syr. 
Tho' others may do't, yet 'twon't look well in you, for the whole Town counts you a rich Man, and very well to pass i'th' World.  Chr. 
Well then I ll go, and pay the Money myself,  Syr. 
You d better order your Son to do that.  Chr. 
Why so?  Syr. 
Because he now goes under the Name of her Gallant. Chr. What of all that?  Syr. 
Why if he carry't himself, the thing will look as if it had something of truth in't: And by that means I shall the more dexterously bring about my own design too— Oh, yonder's the Man, you'd best step in and fetch the Money.  Chr. 
So I will. Exit Chremes.  
Enter Clitipho at another part of the Stage.  Clit. 
to himself. There's nothing so easy, but it becomes hard to an unwilling mind. This very walk I have taken, though but a little one, yet how faint t has made me. And now, I dread nothing so much as to be sent on another Fool's Errand, and not suffered to come nigh my dear Bacchis.— to Syrus. Now all the Gods confound thee for a Rogue, and all the fine Tricks and Inventions!— Thou art always framing some damned Villany to plague me 〈◊〉 Angrily.  Syr. 
Keep your Curses to yourself (if you go to that) I'm 〈…〉 Ill-nature had liked to have brought my Neck to a Halter. Hussingly.  Clit. 
O' my Soul, I wish it had! I'm sure 'twas no more than you deserved.  Syr. 
Than I deserved.— How so pray? I'm glad I know so much of your Mind before ye received the Money I just got ready for ye.  Clit. 
What could I ha' said less t'ye? You went and brought my Mistress hither, and then not suffer me to come nigh her.  Syr. 
Well, I ha' done, I'm cool again.— But can you guests where your Mistress is?  Clit. 
Why at our House?  Syr. 
No but she isn't.  Clit. 
Where then pray?  Syr. 
At Mr. Clinie's.  Clit. 
All's gone.  Syr. 
Courage, Sir: You yourself shall go to her with the Money promised her presently.  Clit. 
Thou pratest like a Fool; Where should I have't?  Syr. 
From your own Daddy.  Clit. 
You only banter me. Smilingly.  Syr. 
You'll soon see that.  Clit. 
Nay then I'm made for ever, Syrus!— Dear Rogue, let me buss thee.  Syr. 
‛ Saint! there comes your Father.— Have a care you don't play the Fool, and make a wonderment at the Matter; observe the Motion; do as you're bid, and ask no Questions.  
Enter Chremes with a bag of Money.  Chr. 
Where's this Clitipho now?  Syr. 
Say, here Sir— Aside to Clitipho.  Clit. 
Here he is, Sir.  Chr. 
to Syrus. Ha' you told him the Business?  Syr. 
Most of it, Sir.  Chr. 
to Clitipho. Here take this Money, and carry it to her.  Syr. 
Zookers: Why d'ye stand like a Post? Why don't ye take it? [Aside to Clitipho.  Clit. 
Give't me if you please. Chremes gives him the Money.  Syr. 
Fellow me as fast as you can.— To Clitipho.— But you, Sir, be pleased to stay here a minute till we come back, for we ve no occasion to stay long there. To Chremes.  
Exeunt Clitipho and Syrus.  Chremes 
alone.  
So my Daughter has got Thirty good Pounds of me already, which account goes for her Board. I suppose the other Thirty must follow for fine . After this comes a round Sum for a Portion. Well! This same Custom is the Devil. Now must I leave all Works to find some honest Fellow to ease me of that Money I've been so long scraping together.  
To him enter Menedeme.  Men. 
to Clinie within. Dear Child, now do I think myself the happiest Father i'th' World, since I find you so well reformed.  Chr. 
overhearing. How sweetly he's mistaken. Aside.  Men. 
Chremes! 'twas you I wanted.— Now, Sir, you may be the making of my Son, myself, and Family; and I beg you'd do't.  Chr. 
Good Sir, What would ye ha' me do?  Men. 
It seems you have found out a Daughter to day.— My Son Clinie desires your Consent to marry her.  Chr. 
Bless me! What a strange Man are you?  Men. 
What d'ye mean?  Chr. 
Ha' ye so soon forgot the Trick we talked of just now, which was to be played to chouse you of your Money?—  Men. 
I remember it.  Chr. 
— Why this is it they're now at work upon.—  Men. 
What is't you say Chremes?  Chr. 
— I ll warrant ye, this same Bacchis at your House is my Son's Mistress too; Is she not?  Men. 
They say so.  Chr. 
And you believe it?  Men. 
Yes, that I do.  Chr. 
Then they pretend that your Son has a Mind to be married: So that when I've promised him my Daughter, you may let him ha' Money to buy Wedding-clothes and the like.  Men. 
That's the business then, he wants it for his Mistress. Chr. No doubt on't.  Men. 
Alas unhappy Man! My Joys are nipped i'th' bud: And yet I'd rather endure any thing than part with him again.— What answer, Sir, shall I carry from ye, that he mayn't perceive I've found it out or lay it to Heart?  Chr. 
To Heart say ye?— Pshaw! Menedeme you cocker him too much by half.  Men. 
Let it be so: I'm gone too far to draw back:— I beg, Sir, but the continuance of your Favours.  Chr. 
You may tell him we met and treated of the Match;—  Men. 
Well, and what more?  Chr. 
— That I'm ready to do any thing: that I like him for a Son-in-Law: And lastly, if you please you may tell him I've given my Consent.  Men. 
Oh that's it I'd have.  Chr. 
That he may ask ye for the Money the sooner, and you the sooner part with it according to your Wish.  Men. 
That's what I aim at.  Chr. 
Introth, by what I can see, you'll quickly be cloyed with this Son of yours; but as the Case stands, if 've your Wits about ye, you must give it him very cautiously, and little by little.  Men. 
So I will.  Chr. 
You had best go in and see how much he'd have, I shall be at home, if you want me.  Men. 
'Tis that I'd have, for whate'er I do I shall make you acquainted with. Exeunt.  
The End of the Fourth Act.   

ACT V.  Menedeme alone. 
FOr my part, I must own myself to be somewhat silly, and slow of Apprehension: But my Neighbour here, this same Assistant, Counsellor, and sage Direct ●●o mine outdoes me a bar and a half. All the honourable Titles of a Fool, Blockhead, Clod-pate, Ass, and Dolt, may well enough be appled to me; but they won't come up to him: for his Folly is beyond all Expression.  
Enter Chremes at another part of the Stage.  Chr. 
to Sostrata within. Prithee Wife don't tire out the Gods with being so unmannerly over-thankful for having found out your Daughter, unless you measure them by yourself, and fancy they can t understand a thing without hearing it a hundred times over— to himself But i'th' mean time, what aduce makes Clitipho and Syrus stay so long at Mendeme●s.  Men. 
Who are those that stay so long, Chremes?  Chr. 
Ha; Mr. Menedeme are you got hither again?— Well, Sir, did ye tell your Son what I said?  Men. 
Every Syllable, Sir.  Chr. 
And what says he to't?  Men. 
He was as much transported, as if he had a mind to be married.  Chr. 
Ha',— ha',— he.—  Men. 
What d'ye laugh at?  Chr. 
My Man Syrus' Trick came just into my Mind. Men. Indeed?  Chr. 
This cunning Rogue has a knack of setting other People's Faces as well as his own.  Men. 
You mean my Son only counterfeits his Joy. Chr. Yes, Sir.  Men. 
This very business came in my Head too.  Chr. 
Ah he's a pickled Rogue. Laughs.  Men. 
You'd say so indeed if you knew all. Jeeringly  Chr. 
Say ye so?  Men. 
Pray, Sir, give me the hearing.  Chr. 
But hold.— First, I desire to know how much 've thrown away upon 'em: For as soon as you told your Son I had promised him my Daughter, immediately Dromo, I'll warrant ye, clapped in a Word, that the Bride wanted Wedding , Jewels, Attendants, and the like, that you might give 'em Money for 'em.  Laughs again. Men. 
Not a word.  Chr. 
How! not a word. In a maze.  Men. 
No, indeed.  Chr. 
Nor your Son neither.  Men. 
Not a tittle, Sir, but was only very urgent to ha' the match struck up to day.  Chr. 
You amaze me.— But what did my Man, did he say nothing too?  Men. 
Nothing at all.  Chr. 
How so, I beseech ye!  Men. 
Nay, I can't tell.— But I admire that you should see other things so well, and not this.— Pshaw! 'Tis only Syrus has set your Son's Face too so admirably well, that no Man could suspect in the least this Bacchis to be my Boy's Mistress.  Jeeringly. Chr. 
How's that!  Men. 
I'll not say a word o' their kissing and clipping: for I reckon that nothing.  Chr. 
What more could be done to carry on the Counterfeit? Men. Pish!  Chr. 
What is't, I beseech ye?  Men. 
Well, observe then.— I've a little withdrawing Room at the back part of my House; where a Bed was brought in and made up.  Chr. 
What followed?  Men. 
What?— Why thither went Clitipho.  Chr. 
All alone? Men. Yes alone.  Chr. 
My Mind misgives me strangely Aside.  Men. 
Immediately after him went Bacchis  Chr. 
All alone too. Men. Ay, all alone too  Chr. 
I'm ruined.  Men. 
As soon as they were in, they made fast the Door.  Chr. 
How!— Was your Son a Looker on all the while.  Men. 
Why not? He and I saw it together.  Chr. 
Ay, Menedeme, she's certainly my Son's Whore then. I am absolutely undone.  Men. 
How so?  Chr. 
I ha' scarce where withal to keep House for ten days.  Men. 
What! Are ye concerned that he should help his Friend a little?  Chr. 
No, but for fear he should keephis she Friend.  Men. 
Yes, if he should indeed.  Chr. 
D'ye question that?— D'ye know any one of such a base and poor Spirit, as to suffer his own Mistress before his Face to be.— Men.  Men. 
Ha'— ha'— he. Why not? That I might the easier be imposed upon.  Jeeringly. Chr. 
D'ye jeer me, Sir?— Now what reason have I to curse my own Stupidity? How many signs ha' they given me to discover the Cheat, hadn't I been a downright Stock? what things have I been an Eye-witness to? Fool that I am!— But as I'm a living Soul they shan't go off : for immediately I'll— In a Passion.  Men. 
interrupting. Ha' ye no Government? Ha' ye no regard to yourself? Methinks my Example might be of use t'ye.  Chr. 
My Anger quite distracts me Menedeme.  Men. 
That you should say such a word now. Isn't that a great failing in you to advise others, and be so wi●e abroad, and yet can't help yourself at home?  Chr. 
What course shall I take?  Men. 
The same which you said I was so defective in— Make him sensible that you are his Father, that he may venture to trust all his Secrets, wants and desires with you alone, lest he seek his redress elsewhere, and cry, Good bw'ye Father.  Chr. 
Ay, let him be jogging to Jericho for me, rather than here by his Debaucheries bring his poor Father to a Crust. For, Menedeme, if I go on thus to supply all his Extravagances, I shall quickly come to your Hedging and Ditching.  Men. 
What a great many Troubles will ye pull down upo' your Head, if you don't look about ye: you'll show yourself a rigid Father, and pardon him at last, when he won't give ye one good word for your pains.  Chr. 
Ah, Sir! You can't conceive how much it goes to the Heart of me  Men. 
What you please for that.— But what say ye to my proposal? will you marry your Daughter to my Son? or ha' ye another in your Eye, that you like better?  Clit. 
No; I like him for a Son-in-law, and I like the Alliance too.  Men. 
What Money shall I tell him you'll give with her?— What not answer?—  Chr. 
pausing. Money say ye? Shakes his Head.  Men. 
Yes, Sir.  Chr. 
Ah, Sir! Sighing.  Men. 
Come Chremes, don't trouble yourself, tho' it be but a little; Portion shall break no Squares.  Chr. 
I designed her indeed no more than Three hundred Pounds, being all my Estate would bear: But if you tender the Welfare of me, my Estate, and Son, you may tell him I've promised to give all I'm worth for a Portion.  Men. 
What Project are ye framing now?  Chr. 
You may pretend to wonder at it, and ask him too why I did it.  Men. 
And so I may, for I can't conceive, why you should do it.  Chr. 
No?— Why to curb, and cool his Covage, now solely bend to Luxury, and Debauchery, and bring him to that pass, that he shan't know where to turn himself.  Men. 
What d'ye mean?  Chr. 
Pray, Sir, let me ha' my Humour in this thing.  Men. 
Well!— But would ye have me do so indeed?  Chr. 
Yes.  Men. 
Then I will, Sir.  Chr. 
Well, Sir, let your Son get ready, and send for his Bride. As for mine I'll rattle him to some Tune, as Fathers should do their Children.— But for that Dog Syrus.—  Men. 
What will ye do to him?  
Whilst Chremes speaks the next Exit Menedeme.  Chr. 
What? If I live, I'll so lace his Jacket, and curry his Hide for him, that he shall remember't as long as he has an hour to breath:— Damned Rogue, to think to make a Laughingstock and May-game o' me; I'll be hanged if the Rascal dare ha' served a poor friendless Widow so, as he has served me. Walks about in a huff.  
Reenters Menedeme with Clitipho, and Syrus following after.  Clit 
to Menedeme entering. I beseech ye Mr. Menedeme, is't come to that then? that my Father should so suddenly cast off all natural Affection? For what Offence? What grievous Crime have I miserable Fellow committed? I do but what all young Persons commonly do.  Men 
to Clitipho. I'm sensible this is most hard and severe to you that bear the burden of it: but I myself resent it no less than you, tho' I know not why, and can give ye no reason for't, but only my extraordinary kindness for ye.  Clit. 
Didn't ye say my Father was hard by?  Men. 
Yes, there he walks. Exit Menedeme.  Chr. 
What d'ye blame me for Clitipho? what I ha' done was to cure thee, and the rashness too: when I saw you of that sluggish Nature, and were all for the present Enjoyment, without considering the Future; I than took a Method to secure you from want, and my Estate from ruin. And seeing I couldn't make ye m●●ei●, as by Nature I ought, I had recourse to your highest Relations, making over and trusting all to their Hands. There you'll ever find Sanctuary for your Miscarriages, meet with Diet, , and a House to hid. your head in.  Clit. 
Woe's me!  Chr. 
This is better than by making you my Heir, to let Bacchis run away with all.  Syr. 
I'm undone! What a Storm has my Rogueship raised before I was a ware— Aside.  Clit. 
Woven to God I were dead!  Chr. 
Pray learn first what 'tis to live, when 've tried that and done't like it, then die if you will.  Syr. 
Good Sir, will you hear me one word.  Chr. 
Speak then.  Syr. 
But may I freely, Sir?  Chr. 
Speak I say.  Syr. 
What Injustice and Madness is it, that he should be punished for my Offence,—  Chr. 
'Tis done; don't you meddle nor make. No body impeaches you Syrus; therefore you needned look out for a Sanctuary, or one to plead for ye.  Syr. 
Pray, Sir, what's your design?  Chr. 
I'm neither angry with you nor him, nor ought you to be so with me for what I ha' done.  
Exit Chremes hastily.  Syr. 
He's fling away.— Pox! would I had asked him.— Clit. What Syrus?  Syr. 
— Where I should ha' had my Belly-timber, since he has turned us out of doors,— You it seems may mump it at your Sisters.  Clit. 
Am I reduced to this then, that I must starve for want of Bread?  Syr. 
However whilst there's Life there's hopes.—  Clit. 
Of what?  Syr. 
— Of a good coming Stomach.  Clit. 
Are ye so gamesome in time of Adversity? And not give me one push at this dead lift?  Syr. 
Yes, Sir, I'm ready for't, and was hammering on't all the time your Father was Schooling of ye— And as far as I can perceive.—  Clit. 
Prithee what?  Syr. 
pausing. You shall have't presently.  Clit. 
Pray what is't?  Syr. 
The Case is thus: For my part, I don't believe you are any of their Son.  Clit. 
‛ How's that Syrus? Art mad? Hastily.  Syr. 
I'll tell ye my Reasons, judge of 'em as you please.— Whilst they had none but you, and you alone were all their Joy, they then cockered you up, and gave ye any thing. But now they have found a Daughter, 've found an occasion to send you packing.  Clit. 
That seems very probable.  Syr. 
D'ye think he'd ha' been so damned mad for a Peccadillo else?  Clit. 
I can't think he would.  Syr. 
There's another business to be well considered: All Mothers you know are Pleaders for their Sons Faults, and constantly take their parts against their Fathers: But here we see no such matter.  Clit. 
Very true, Faith; therefore good Boy, tell me what to do.  Syr. 
Even put it to 'em to resolve ye that Scruple, and done't mince the Matter: If it be false you'll work upon their Affections: If true, you'll know your own Parents.  Clit. 
Your Counsels good, I'll follow it.  
Exit Clitipho.  Syrus alone. 
Egad this was a lucky Hit: for the less hope the Spark has, he'll much the sooner make his Peace with his Father, and at his own Terms too.— Perhaps the Toy may take him i'th' Crown to tie himself to a Wife; but God-a-mercy to Goodman Jobber Knowles here. Strikes himself on the Head. What noise is that?— Oh, 'tis the old Man coming again.— I must even seamper for't— Considering what has been done, I wonder he didn't order me to be trussed up with a Whip-stitch before now.— I'll betake me to Mr. Menedeme's, and get him beg me off. I'll never trust this old Fellow. Exit Syrus.  
‛ Enter Chremes and Sostrata.  Sost. 
Introth, my dear Husband, if you bened very cautious, you'll make the Boy do himself some mischief. And I can't but admire how such a Whim came into your Head.  Chr. 
You'll be a Woman still! Can't I do any thing but you must thwart me presently, Mrs. Impertinence?— Put the Case I should ask ye what's amiss in't, or upon what account 'twas done, you can't answer me. Therefore why do ye so confidently oppose me, ye old Fool?  Sost. 
Can't I answer ye?  Chr. 
Yes, yes, you can, I'd rather grant that, than tell the Story a hundred times over.  Sost. 
What an unreasonable thing 'tis to make me stand like Mumchance at such a time as this?  Chr. 
I don't make ye, speak your Heart out, I'll do as I please for all that.  Sost. 
Will ye so?  Chr. 
Yes by Cocksnowns will I  Sost. 
You don't consider the ill consequence of it. He'll think himself a Foundling.  Chr. 
A Foundling say ye?  Sost. 
Indeed, dear Husband he will.  Chr. 
And you may so too.  Sost. 
Oh I beseech ye, let them say so that hate 's most: Shall I say he's none of my Son, that is my Son?  Chr. 
What? Are ye afraid you can't make it out he's your Son whenever you please.  Sost. 
What because he's so like my new found Daughter?  Chr. 
No, but because he's so like you in Humours, which is a more convincing Argument by half: That way you'll easily prove him your own: For he resem bless ye extremely: There's ne'er an ill quality in him, but you have the same: Besides there's not another Woman upon God's Earth, that could ha' had such a Son— But here comes the Youth.— How gravely he looks. When you view him throughly, you'll know what he is.  
Enter Clitipho.  Clit. 
to Sostrata. If ever there was a time, Mother, you took delight or pleasure in calling me Son, I'd entreat ye to bring it to remembrance, and take pity upon a Wretch: who craves and desires to know who are his Parents.  Sost. 
For Heaven's sake dear Child, ne'er so much as think you had your being from any but us Clit. I can't help it. Sighing.  Sost. 
weeping Ah me! How could ye find in your Heart to ask me such a question? As I hope for your Prosperity when we are dead and gone, you are mine, and his And look to't (if 've any kindness for your Mother) that I never hear such a word from you again.  Chr. 
And, Jackanapes, if you have any Reverence for your Father. Let me see any more of these Tricks, and you had better eat your Nails.  Clit. 
What Tricks, Sir?  Chr. 
If you must needs know, I'll tell ye. The Tricks of any impertinent, idle, cheating, drinking, whoring, con●uining Debauchee.— Believe what I say, and done't donbt but that I am your Father.  Sost. 
Does this come from a Fahter's Mouth?  Chr. 
No! Tho' you had sprung out of my fertile Brain, as Pallas they say did from mighty Jove's, I'd not endure myself to be disgraced by your lewd Tricks. Angrily.  Sost. 
The Gods forbidden that.  Chr. 
I know not what the Gods will do, but I'll do my endeavour to prevent the worst.— to Clitipho. You look about for Parents, which you don't want, but not at all for what is most wanting, as how to obey your Parents, and to preserve what they by Industry have got. How could ye ha' th' impudence to cheat your Father, and bring before his Face your— I am ashamed to, name the filthy Word before you Mother; though you were not so to do the base Act.  Clit. 
Alas! How mad am I with myself! How ashamed of myself! I can't so much as see which way to begin to pacify him.  
Enter Menedeme.  Men. 
to himself entering. Introth, Chremes handles the poor young Gentleman too severely, and too roughly; Therefore I'm come to make up the Breach again.— Oh, best of all; there they are.  Chr. 
Oh Mr. Menedeme, Why isn't my Daughsent for to your House? And the Writings drawn about the Portion we agreed upon?  Sost. 
For God's sake Husband never do that.  Clit. 
kneeling. Dear Father! I beseech ye to pardon me.  Men. 
Pray do, Mr. Chremes; let his Repentance win upon ye so far.  Chr. 
Shall I in my right Senses part with my whole Estate to a Baggage.— I'll be twice advised first.  Men. 
That we'll take care to prevent.  Clit. 
still kneeling. Sir, if you tender my Life, forgive me.  Sost. 
Come, come sweet Husband do.  Men. 
Prithee Mr. Chremes don't be so obstinate.  Chr. 
What means all this?— Well, I perceive, I must not do what I designed.  Men. 
Now you do like a worthy Gentleman.  Chr. 
But then upon this Condition, that he shall do as I shall think most proper for him.  Clit. 
I'll do any thing, Sir, pray command me.  Chr. 
I'd ha' ye Mary.  Clit. 
But Sir.—  Chr. 
I'll take no Excuses.  Men. 
I'll engage for him, he shall do't.  Chr. 
But he himself says no such matter.  Clit. 
My Case is desperate. Aside.  Sost. 
What d'ye boggle for Clitipho?  Chr. 
Nay let him even take his own way.  Men. 
He shall do as you'd have him.  
Sost. Marriage is a Bug bear to Fools, but they that ha' tried it find it a Blessing.  Clitipho 
to Chremes. Well, I'll obey your pleasure, Sir.  Sost. 
to Clitipho. In good Faith my Boy I've a fine Girl in my Eye for thee, which you can't choose but be pleased with; 'tis our Neighbour Phanacrates' Daughter.  Clit. 
Pho! That Carrat-pated, Walleyed, Pimple-faced, Hook-nosed Creature? It goes against me, Sir.  Chr. 
Loy ye now, how nice he's grown!— You may guests what his Mind has been most upon  Sost. 
to Clitipho. I'll tell ye of another then  Clit. 
No need of that: Since I must marry, I've just one in my own Eye, which I like very well.  Sost. 
That's my good Boy!  Clit 
Archonides' Daughter.  Sost. 
That's as well as I could wish.  Clit. 
to Chremes. Now, Sir, I've one Favour to beg.  Chr. 
What's that?  Clit. 
To pardon Syrus all he has done for my sake.  Chr. 
Well, I will. Turns to the Spectators.  
Gentlemen,  
Far ye well, and give us your approbation.  Exeunt omnes  
The End of the Self-Tormenter.   

THE BROTHERS. A COMEDY, Acted at the Funeral-Games of L. Emilius Paulus. WHEN Q. Fabius Maximus, and P. Cornelius the African were Curule Edil's, By the Company of L. Attilius of Preneste, and Minucius Protimus.  
Flaccus made free by Claudius, Composed the Music, which was performed on Tyrian FLUTES.  
It was taken from the GREEK of Menander;  
And ACTED Under the Consulship of L. Anicius, and M. Cornelius.  
A. U. C. 583. Ante Christ 168.   

Dramatis Personae.  

MEN.  
Micio, A Rich Citizen of Athens, a mild, sweet-natured old Gentleman, and a Bachelor; extreme loving and kind to his Nephew's Eschine and Ctesipho; the first of which he adopts for his own.  
Demea, His Brother, Father to Eschine and Ctesipho, a Country Gentleman, and a violent, angry, fretful, busy, meddling Fellow; strict and severe to his Sons, and a great pretender to Education.  
Eschine, Demea ' s Eldest Son, adopted by Micio, and in Love with Pamphila; a wildish, lose Spark of the Town, generous and free hearted, who by reason of Micio ' s Indulgence often runs into open Extravagancies.  
Ctesipho, His Brother, as naturally vicious as the other, but for want of Encouragement is very fearful and secret, concealing all from his Father, whom he lives with in the Country.  
Hegio, Sostrata ' s Kinsman, a downright, truehearted, honest Athenian.  
Syrus, Eschine ' s Servant, a jubtle, insinuating, sh, ingenious Fellow, bold and saucy, almost always bantering, imposing and putting upon Demea.  
Dromo, Another of Eschine ' s Servant's.  
Geta, A very honest, true and faithful Servant of Sostrata ' s.  
Sunio, A Foolish Woman-Merchant, alias a Bawd.   

WOMEN.  
Sostrata, A decayed old Gentlewoman of Athens.  
Pamphila, Her Daughter, Debauched by Eschine.  
Gautha●●, Nurse to Pamphila.   

MUTES.  
Parmeno, Storax, and other Servants of Micio 's, the Musick-Girl, Rabble, Attendants, etc.   
Scene, ATHENS.  
TIME, about Eight or Nine Hours   

THE BROTHERS.  

ACT I.  
SCENE, The Street before Micio ' s Door. TIME, Betimes in the Morning.  Micio 
speaks within Storax, I say!—  Enter Micio alone. Mic. 
entering. O! No News, I see, of Eschine since last Night's Entertainment, nor of any of the Servants that went to bring him home.— Well, 'tis true, as they say, if a Man be but out of the way, or out-stays his time a little, he's less concerned at the Scolding and Suspicions of a jealous Wife, than a fond Parent is for a Child upon the like occasion For she, if you don't come in at your Hour, takes it for granted, that you have picked up a Girl, or a Girl you; or else that you're at the Tavern, or some other place of Diversion, or so; however that you far well, whate'er becomes of the poor Soul at home. But for me now, what a World of Thoughts, and what a rabble of Whimsies have I i' my Head, for this Boys lying out last Night? Lest he should be starved with Cold, tumbl'd into a Cellar, or ha' broke a Leg or an Arm.— Lord! That a Man should set his Heart upon any thing, and make it dearer to him than himself. And upon the whole Matter, this Boy is none of my Son neither, but my Brother's, who is of a quite different Humour from me. For my part, I always chose the quiet Life of the Town, to live at ease, and (what the Wits count a Happiness) have never been troubled with a Wife. But my Brother o'th' other hand has always lived in the Country, pinching and taking a world of Pains; committed Matrimony, and was the Father of two Sons: The Eldest I have adopted, brought up, esteemed and loved as my own; I please myself in him, the only Creature I dote upon. Then I do all I can to make him think as well of me: I deny him nothing, let him even do what he will himself, and don't think it fit upon every turn to make use o' my Authority. In short, I ha' brought him to this, that he'll conceal none of the Levitieses of his 〈◊〉, which others so industriously hid from their Fathers. For he that won't stick to falsify to his own Father, or will put upon him, will be done to make bolder with other People. 'twas always my Opinion, That 'tis much better to keep Children in order by Shame and Generosity of Inclination, than by Fear, My Brother and I can't agree in this Point, and my way of Breeding won't down with him. Ever and anon he comes open Mouth to me.— Why Micio! What d'ye mean? Will ye be the Ruin of our Child? Why does he whore? Why does he drink? Why d'ye maintain him in all this? You let him go too fine: You are extremely silly in't. He's extremely severe, say I, beyond all Right and Reason: And truly, in my Mind, that Man is very much out, that believes that Government purely by force should have more Authority, and a better Foundation, than when 'tis accompanied with Tenderness and Respect. This is my Logic, and I argue thus. He that's compelled by Threats to do his Duty, will be wary no longer than 've an Eye over him, but when he sees he shan't be found out he'll even follow his own Inclinations. But he that's governed by Love obeys most cheerfully, strives to make his due returns, and is the same whether you are present or absent. 'Tis a Father's part to use his Child so as his own choice rather than outward constraint, should put him upon doing well. Here lies the difference between a Father and a Master: and he that does otherwise, let him own that he understands not at all how to govern Children. seeing Demea at a distance. But isn't that the Gentleman I am discoursing of?— 'Tis he for certain.— He knits his Brows, but I know not why. I believe he's upon the Railing pin, as he uses to be.  
Enter Demea.  Mic. 
Brother! You are welcome to Town.  Dem. 
Oh! Well met! You're the Man I want.  Mic. 
What makes you so off the Hooks?  Dem. 
Is that a Question for me? when we have got such a hopeful Youth as Eschine?  Mic. 
I said, 'twou'd be so. Aside. What has he done now pray?  Dem. 
What has he done? He's ashamed of nothing, afraid of no body, and looks upon himself to be a lawless Man. I have nothing to say to old Stories, but what a prank has he just now played?  Mic. 
What's that I pray?  Dem. 
Why? he has gone and forced open a Man's Door, broke into his House, beat the Master and and all his Family most barbarously, left 'em for dead, and carried off a Wench he had a fancy for, by force of Arms. Every body cry d shame on't: What a world of People told me on't, as I came along! Nay, the whole Town rings on't. To say no more, if he would but take Example, does he not see how closely his Brother minds his his business, lives sparingly and soberly in the Country? He would'nt do such a thing for the World. But, Brother, in blaming Eschine, I blame you too, 'tis you have been the spoiling of him.  Mic. 
There's nothing more unreasonable than a Man unacquainted with the World; that thinks nothing well done, but what he does himself.  Dem. 
Why that pray?  Mic. 
'Cause you take things much otherwise than ye ought. Believe me Brother, 'tis no such mighty business for a young Fellow to wench and drink a little: No, nor yet to break a Door: If you and I were less extravagant, twasned for want of Will, but Money: And you count that your Virtue, which is only owing to Necessity; which is not fairly done. For had we had where-withal, we should ha' been as wild as others: And had you but common Sense, you would give that fine Son of yours the same liberty, whilst he's young: rather than he should, when your Bones are laid (which he has often prayed for) take the same wild Courses at an Age, when they will less become him.  Dem. 
'Sbud! You're enough to distract one! Then, be like there's no harm in a young Man to live at this mad rate!  Mic. 
Patience, good Brother! Prithee don't deafen my Ears with old Stories. You gave me your Son, and by Adoption he's mine; if he be extravagant, I shall bear the blame on't, and pay for't over and above. He treats, he drinks, he dresses! 'Tis all at my Charge. He keeps a Miss too! I'll supply his Pocket as long as I'm able, and when that fails, perhaps they'll turn him out. Has he broke any Doors? They shall be made good. Torn any ? They shall be mended too. I thank my Stars I've where-withal to do it, and as yet not uneasy under it. In short! Either leave off complaining, or choose who you will be judged by: and I'll make't appear, that you're more to blame than I  Dem. 
Mercy upon me! Learn to be a Father by them that are so indeed.  Mic. 
You are his Father by Nature, but I have the care of him.  Dem. 
Ay, special care! Scornfully,  Mic. 
Nay, if you're at that Sport, I'll be gone.  Offers to go. Dem. 
Will ye so?—  Mic. 
What should I stay for to hear the same thing a thousand times over.  Dem. 
'Tis only from my concern for him.  Mic. 
And I'm concerned for him too; but, good Brother, let's each concern ourselves as we ought; you for one, and I for t'other: For you to take care of both, looks as if you revoked that grant which made him mine.  Dem. 
Ah! Brother. Shakes his Head.  Mic. 
I'll have it thus.  Dem. 
Will ye so?— Well, if that's your resolution: Let him squander all, damn all, himself and all, 'tis all one to me. If ever I● speak a Syllable more.—  Mic. 
Now you begin to be angry again.  In a Passion Dem. 
Don't ye think there's reason for't. Do I desire to ha' your rare Son from ye? It grieves me, I must confess, for he's my own Flesh and Blood still. If I oppose, I shall— But I ha' done. You'd ha' me take care of one, and so I will. Heavens be praised, he proves after my own Heart. Your Profligate will feel the smart on't at last.— Well! But I won't be too hard upon him. Exit Demea.  Micio alone. 
I believe part of what he said is true, but not all: And truly I'm a little moved at it, though I would'nt show myself concerned before him: For He's such a strange Man, that to pacify him you must cross, and out-hector him, though then he can scarce contain himself. But should I chafe him, and blow the Coal, I should even be a Madman for Company. Yet I must confess my EschiM has been a kind of a naughty Boy in this business What Courtesan has not he visited? Or what pretty Face has not he presented some Toy or other to? In fine, not long ago (sick I thought of these Creatures) he told me he would take up and marry. I was in hopes the Heats of his Youth had been abated, and was hearty glad on't: When on a sudden a new Fires broke out. But I'll know't whate'er the Matter is, and go see whether I can meet with my Gentleman at the Change.  
Exit Micio.  
End of the First Act.   

ACT II.  
Enter Eschine with a Sword drawn leading in the Musick-Girl, and attended by Parmeno and Storax, after comes Sannio, running with the Rabble at his Heels.  S●n. 
as out of Breath. HElp— good Neighbours,— I beseech ye● Helpe— a— miserable, innocent— helpless Creature.  Esch. 
to the Girl. Stand your ground my pretty Rogue, and done't be afraid. Why dost thou look behind thee? There's no danger at all: And while I'm by, let him touch thee if he dare.  San. 
I'll have her again, in spite of the World.—  Esch. 
Tho' he's a very Rascal, yet he shan't provoke me to give him another beating to day.  San. 
Hark ye, Sir, that you mightned pretend to be ignorant of my Profession, I tell ye I'm a Woman-Merchant.  Esch. 
A Cock-Bawd you mean.  San. 
And one of the greatest Repute in Town. And don't you fancy now that you shall get off by saying, 'Twas against my will that you were abused: By the Lord Harry, I value it not a Straw. Assure yourself, I'll trounce ye to some Tune; your fine Words shall never make amends for the Blows you gave me. I know these will be your Tricks and Excuses. I'm extremely sorry for't, I'll take my Oath you did not deserve this usage. When the truth on't is, I've been used worse than a Dog.  Esch. 
to Parmeno. Run quickly before, Sirrah, and open the Door.  San. 
You had as good stay where you are.  
Parmeno opens the Door.  Esch. 
to the Girl. Step in quickly with him, my dear Rogue.  San. 
stepping between. But I forbidden that tho.  Esch. 
Come hither Parmeno.— You are too far.— Stand close to that Son of a Whore.— So, that's well. Take care to keep your Eye full upon mine, that when I tip the wink, you may be ready to give him a slap in the Face.  San. 
I'd fain see that. Eschine gives the Girl to Parmeno, which Sannio seeing, runs & catches hold of her.  Esch. 
Have a care, Parmeno. Parmeno strikes him.  Esch. 
to Sannio. Dog! Let go your hold.  San. 
Oh, monstrous!  Esch. 
You shall ha' the second part o'th' same Tune, if you han't a care. Parmeno strikes him.  San. 
Murder! murder!  Esch. 
to Parmeno. Hold, you go beyond your Commission. But better too much, than too little.— You may march off now 've got your black and blue Livery, Mr. Sannio!  
Exit Parmeno with the Girl.  San. 
What do you mean, Sir? Do you reign Lord and Master here?  Esch. 
If I did, I'd reward your Bawdship according to your deserts.  San. 
Pray what Authority have you over me?  Esch. 
None perhaps.  San. 
How! D'ye know who I am, Sir?  Esch. 
Nor yet desire it.  San. 
Did I meddle with any thing of yours pra?  Esch. 
If you had, Sirrah, it should ha' been a dear meddling.  San. 
Then how comes it to be more lawful for you to take my Goods, which I honestly bought and paid for? Answer me that pray.  Esch. 
You hadn't best stand bawling at this rate before the Door; if ye plague us any more, I'll ha' ●● dragged in, and whipped as long as ye can stand.  San. 
Bless me! Freeborn, and whipped!  Esch. 
That's your Doom.  San. 
Oh the Wickedness of the Man! Is this the eneral Freedom they talk of, with a Pox?  Esch. 
Worthy Mr. Pimp! If your mad Fit's over, hear me a word, if your Honour's so disposed.  San. 
Was't I that was mad, or you?  Esch. 
Let that pass, now come to the point.  San. 
What point? Whither shall I come?  Esch. 
Will ye give me leave to speak about your Business?  San. 
With all my heart, provided it be just.  Esch. 
Heigh toss! The Bawd's turned Puritan, ●nd would teach me Justice.  San. 
Tho' I am a Bawd, the common bane of Youth, a forsworn Wretch, a public Nuisance; yet I never did you any wrong, Sir?  Esch. 
That's kept for an after-clap.  San. 
Pray, Mr. Eschine, return to your first Proposal.  Esch. 
The Girl cost ye about Fifty Guineas, may ●● never thrive with ye! The Money shall be paid ●e again.  San. 
What if I won't part with her, who a plague shall force me? Will you? Esch. No.  San. 
I was afraid you would.  Esch. 
Truly, Friend Sannio, between you and ●●, she's not to be sold at all; for she's a Gentlewoman, and so I'll prove her to be. Now, Blockhead, choose whether you'll take the Money, or try it out at Law.— Chew upon this, till co● back, worthy Mr. Pimpwell. Exit Eschine  Sannio 
alone. Heavens! Now I don't want to see a Man's Brains turned by Oppression. T● Son of Thunder has ravished me out of my Cas● beat me to Mumm, took a Girl from me vi armis, and given poor Sanny above Five hundred Bastinadoes. After this sweet usage he'd ha' surrender up my Right and Title to her without Interest. Faith he shall have her indeed, since deserves her so well, and requires nothing ●● what's just.— Studies. Well I wish it might be so, so he pays me down the Ready.— B● my Mind misgives me, damnably, that whene● I do but set the Price, he'll presently bring Witnesses to swear 'twas a direct Bargain between Then for my Money I may go whilstle for't, He say, Come again an hour hence, to Morrow. Th● I can bear too, so I may be sure on't at last, th● it be some damage to me.— 'Twill be so, sure as a Gun. Since Friend Sanny thou hast take up such a nasty Trade, thou must be content bear and Pocket up the Affronts of such hectoring Gallants. But since no body's here to pay ●● I do reckon my Chickens before they are hatched  
Enter Syrus at a little distance.  Syr. 
to Eschine within. Hush! Not a w●● more, I'll go to him myself, and make him sk● at the Money, and say, He's rarely well dealt by, ● [Goes at Sannio.] What's the News with you Mr. Sannio? I hear my Master and you have ha' kind of a Scuffle.  San. 
shrugging. A Scuffle d'ye call't; Never ●● like surely! We were both sufficiently tired: ● with beating me, and I with being beaten.  Syr. 
You may thank yourself for't.  San. 
How could I help it?  Syr. 
You should ha'born with the young Genman's Humour a little.  San. 
What could I do more? I'm sure I bore the blows upon my Face, he was pleased to ●e me  Syr. 
Well, die know what I'm going to say? balk an Ace sometimes is the best play.  San. 
Heigh ho!  Syr. 
You are so timorous like a senseless Sot: Now if you had parted with a little of your Right, ●● humoured the Gentleman, you'd ha' got the Evil and all at the long run.  San. 
I don't love to buy a Pig in a Bag.  Syr. 
Ah, thou wilt ne'er be worth any thing. but upon ye, as if you hadn't a Spring to catch Woodcocks.  San. 
I believe that might be the best way, but had never the Grace to follow it, nor to refuse ●● Ready, when I could get it.  Syr. 
Go to, I know your generous Spirit: As ●ugh you regarded half a hundred Guinea's, so ●● could serve my Master b●●: Besides they say, ●u re making a Voyage to Cyprus.  San. 
Oh!  Syr. 
And have bought up several Commodities Transport thither; the Vessel's hired: I know ●ur Mind's a little wavering about this Money, when you come back I hope to see an end of the ●●iness.  San. 
I've no Voyage to make.— Faith I'm adone! 'tis upon this they have built their Plot.  Aside. Syr. 
The Fellows upon th' fret, I've put a Flea ● his Ear. Aside.  San. 
to himself. Oh horrid! See how he has asked me in the Critical minute! When I've just'd in a Stock of Females, and other wares to carry to Cyprus. If I lose my Fair it will ha' break me: And if I leave this business at six and sevens, the time will be over when I come back. There'll be no Remedy, and I shall have a plaguy cold Welcome. Are you come now, they'll say, ●● prosecute? Why did ye let it run so long? Where h●● ye been all this while? So that I had better lo● every cross on't, than tarry so long before I sue for't?  Syr. 
Clapping him on the Shoulders. Well! Ha● been casting up all the Gains of this Voyage?  San. 
Is this like a Gentleman? Is this Mr. Es●●chine's Conscience to take away a Girl by main force?  Syr. 
aside. He sinks a main.— I've one thing more to propose, see if you like it. Come, compound for half, rather than run a hazard of saving or losing all; we'll make a hard shift but weed scrape up about five and twenty Guinea's some where or other.  San. 
Oh miserable! Now poor I am in danger of losing part o'th' very Principal. Is he past all shame? He has beat all my Teeth down my Throat; and my Head into an an entire Gelly● Then he'd trick me o'th' Money into the Bargain.— I have no Voyage to make.  Syr. 
That's as you please.— Ha' ye any further Commands.— I'm going.  San. 
Ay, pray good Mr. Syrus, however things ha' been, rather than sue and quarrel, let him pay me my own: at lest what she cost me. I know● ye little Rogue, you never had occasion, as yet● to make use of me as a Friend: But if you shou'd● you'll say I'm no forgetful or ungrateful Person.  Syr. 
I'll do my best.— Oh, yonder comes Ctesipho, I faith as brisk as as a Body-louse for his Mistress.  San. 
Well, will ye do as I desired ye?  Syr. 
Have a little Patience.  
Enter Ctesipho. Sannio walks aside.  Ctes. 
to himself. When a Man stands in need of a good turn, he's glad to receive it from any hand. But it does him a double pleasure, when it comes from one he has reason to expect it from. Oh, Brother, Brother! How do I adore thee now! This I'm sure of, that the very best Words I can give thee are short of thy deserts. And I am happy in this particular beyond all Mortals. that I've the most accomplished Brother in nature.  Syr. 
Oh Mr. Ctesipho!  Ctes. 
Dear Rogue Syrus, where's my Brother?  Syr. 
Look ye, he's at home waiting for ye.  Ctes. 
Oh brave!  Syr. 
What's the Matetr, Sir?  Ctes. 
The Matter old Boy? I should ha' been cold in my Grave, but for his means.— Ah, he's an honest Soul! he neglected his own Interest to serve mine. He has taken upon himself all the Curses, Scandals, Love-Matters and Miscarriages that belong to me; And what could he do more? But who comes there? What makes the Door go?  Syr. 
Stay, stay, here he comes himself.  
Enter Eschine.  Esch. 
Where's the Scoundrel Son of a Whore?  San. 
Does he want me? Has he got any Money? I'm broke: the Devil a Penny do I see.  Esch. 
Ha! This is lucky, 'twas you I was wishing for— Well, how is't? All's well; off with that sour Look.  Ctes. 
Now I have reason, having such a Brother as you O Eschine! My true Brother indeed! I dare not praise ye any more before your Face, lest you should think it proceeded rather from Flattery than Gratitude.  Esch. 
Leave your fooling, as tho' we were mere Strangers to one another: But this troubles me that we couldn't know o'th' business sooner; for the Matter was come to that pass; that all the World could scarce ha' helped you, tho' they had desired it. Ctes. Modesty hindered me.  Esch. 
Pshaw! 'twas folly, notmodesty. What! to be upon running your Country for so small a Matter? Fie upon't: Heavens forbidden that.  Ctes. 
'Twasn't well I own.  Esch. 
to Syrus. What has Sannio concluded on? Syr. He's grown very tame.  Esch. 
I'll to the Piazza and discharge him.— but do you brother step in to your Mistress.  San. 
Good Mr. Syrus, push on the business.  Aside to him. Syr. 
Let's be quick, Sir. For the Man's in haste for Cyprus.  San. 
I'm in no such haste.— I've nothing to do, but to wait for the Money.  Syr. 
You shall have it man, nver feared.  San. 
What all?  Syr. 
Yes all. Say no more about it but follow us. San. So I will.  
Exeunt Eschine and Sannio.  Ctes. 
to Syrus going off. Hark ye Syrus.  Syr. 
Well, Sir your pleasure.  Ctes. 
Prithee see that paltry Rascal dispatched as soon as possible, lest upon farther provocation the business come to my Father's Ears; then I shall be ruined to all Intents and Purposes.  Syr. 
That shan't be: Take Heart Sir. Do you toy away half an hour or so with your Mistress, the mean time within. Order the Butler to lay the Cloth, and all things to be got ready. As soon as the business is over, I'll march home with plenty of Provisions.  Ctes. 
Prithee do: and since things have fallen out so luckily, let's even make a day on't.  Exeunt severally. 
The end of the Second Act.   

ACT III.  Sostrata and Canthara. Sost. 
PRithee my good Nurse, how is she like to do?  Can. 
How! Troth I hope she'll have a good time on't. Her Pains, my good Mistress, are just beginning: You're as fearful now, as if ye had ne'er been at a Labour, nor cried out yourself.  Sost. 
Alas-a-day! I've no body at home: and we are all alone. Our Man Geta's out o'th' way too; and there's never a Soul to send for the Midwife, or to call Eschine.  Can. 
Without doubt, Eschine will be here anon: never a day goes over his Head, but we have his Company.  Sost. 
He's the only Comfort I have in my Affliction.  Can. 
As the Case stands, Mistress', the business couldn't fall into better hands: since she had the mischance by such a Gentleman, of such a Parentage, so generous, and so nobly descended.  Sost. 
You're much in the right: Heavens keep him ours for ever.  
Enter Geta as out of Breath at a great distance.  Get. 
to himself. We are now brought to that pass, that if all the World laid their Heads together, to find out a remedy for this mischief that has happened to myself, my Mistress and her Daughter, they could do us no good.— Oh miserable! Such a Flood of Difficulties o'er whelm us, that 'tis impossible to keep above water. Ravishment, Poverty, Oppression, Desertion, Infamy.— Is the Age so debauched?— Abominable Villains! Cursed Wretches! This Devil of a Man.—  Sost. 
Bless me! What makes our Geta in such a Fright, and in such haste?  Get. 
to himself.— Whom nothing could restrain or move: Neither Promises, Oaths, nor Pity, nor yet the approaching Travail of her he had so shamefully abused.  Sost. 
I can't well understand what the Fellow says.  Can. 
Pray, Mistress, let's go a little nigher to him.  Get. 
to himself Ah poor Geta! I'm scarce Compos mentis, my Passion has inflamed me. I'd desire nothing more than to meet the whole Family of 'em, that I might disgorge my rage upon 'em, now my Blood's up. I'd be contented to suffer any thing, so I might have a swinging Revenge upon 'em. First, I'd tread out that stinking Snuff his Father, that gave being to the vice Rascal. Then for that Dog Syrus, that put him upon't.— How I'd tear him piecemeal! I'd give him such a toss, dash his Skull against the Stones, and strew the Streets with his Brains. That Boy Eschine too, I'd tear out his Eyes, and after that break his Neck.— The rest I'd down with 'em, drive 'em, drag 'em, pound 'em, and trample 'em under my Feet. But what makes me loiter, when I should be telling this damned News to my Mistress. Go.  Sost. 
Let's call him back.— Why, Geta! ing off.  Get. 
Pish, prithee don't trouble me, whosoever you are.  Sost. 
'Tis your Mistress calls.  Get. 
Ay, where is she?— turning about. I was hunting for you, Mistress', 'twas you I looked for.— 've met me as luckily as may be.  Sost. 
What's the Matter? Why dost pant so?  Get. 
Oh!  Sost. 
Why in such haste my poor Boy? Come take Breath.—  Get. 
We are absolutely—  Sost. 
What absolutely?  Get. 
— Undone— past all recovery.—  Sost. 
For Heaven's sake, what's the Matter?  In a fright. Get. 
Just now.—  Sost. 
What just now, Geta?—  Get. 
This Mr. Eschine.—  Sost. 
What of him?  Get. 
— Has quite— thrown off our Family.  Sost. 
Alas! Undone indeed! But how so?  Get. 
He's run mad after another Face.  Sost. 
Wretch that I am!  Get. 
He didn't do things in the dark, but forced her from a Bawd in the Eyes of the World.  Sost. 
Are you sure of this?  Get. 
Most sure, these very Eyes saw it.  Sost. 
weeping. Oh unfortunate Sostrata! what canst thou trust to? Or whom canst thou trust? Our dear Eschine do this; The very Soul of us all; in whom we placed our Hopes and Happiness? How oft he swore he would'nt live a day without his Pamphila? And said, he'd put the Infant on his Father's Knees, and in that sort beg his leave to marry her.  Get. 
Pray, Mistress, forbear weeping, but rather consider what's fit to be done: whether we should put up the Affront, or tell it to a Friend.  Can. 
Hold, hold Man; Hast lost thy Senses? D'ye think this a business fit to be blazed abroad?  Get. 
Nay, I'm for hushing of it against the World. First, The Case is plain, he has left us for good and all: Now if we make it public, ten to one but he'll disown it, than your Reputation, and your Daughter's Honour will be called in question. But put the Case he confesseth all, 'twouldn't be Prudence to give him your Daughter, whilst he keeps another: Therefore take the thing which way you please, Concealment is my Opinion.  Sost. 
Ah, by no means: I'll not agree to't.  Get. 
What will ye do then?  Sost. 
Divulge it.  Get. 
How! Have a special care, Mistress, what you do.  Sost. 
The Case can never be worse than 'tis; For first, she has no Portion; then she's robbed of that which might ha' went instead of one; so that she can't be put off for a Maid. I have one shift left, if he deny't, the Ring he lost is proof enough. In fine, since my own Conscience tells me, that this mishap can't be charged either to my Covetousness, or to any base Ends that I or my Daughter had in't, we'll even venture a Trial at Law.  Get. 
D'ye think so? Pray, think on't again.  Sost. 
Do you, Geta, make all the haste you can to her Cousin Hegeos, and tell him the whole Story: for he was a choice Friend of my poor Husbands, and had always a great kindness for our Family.  Get. 
Ay faith, there's no body else looks upon us.  Sost. 
Good Canthara, do you run, and call the Midwife, that she may be i'th' way if need be. exeunt severally.  
Enter Demea alone.  Dem. 
Undone, undone! They say my Boy Ctesipho made one with his Brother at the Rape: That he should be able to debauch a Lad of his Sobriety is the only thing that could add to my Misfortunes.— Where shall I search for him? I'm afraid 've carried him to some Bawdy-house or other. The Rakehell his Brother has drawn him in. I'm confident.— But yonder comes Syrus, I'll learn of him where he is. But i'faith he's one of their gang, and if he perceives I want him, the Rogue will never tell me any thing; therefore he shan't know my design.  
Enter Syrus at another part of the Stage, very merry.  Syr. 
to himself 've been telling the whole Exploit to the old Gentleman, and how 'twas carried on: I never saw the old Man so tickled inmy whole Life.  Dem. 
overhearing. Bless me! What a Coxcomb's my Brother?  Syr. 
to himself. He commended his Son, and thanked my Worship for advising of him.  Dem. 
I can't hold any longer. Aside.  Syr. 
to himself. He told out the Money forthwith; and gave us a broad Piece overplus to be merry withal, and e'dad 'twas employed even as I'd have it.  Dem. 
Ha! If you'd have any thing done as it should be, commend me to this Gentleman. Aside.  Syr. 
starting. Ha', Mr. Demea, I didn't see ye. How does your Worship?  Dem. 
How?— I can't but wonder at your fine way of living.  Syr. 
Faith, Sir, 'tis pretty Silly, and, to speak the truth, somewhat oddish— Turning to Micio ' s House. You Dromo, gut and scale the rest of o'th' Fish, but the great Conger-Eel let him play in the Water a little; when I come back, we'll bone him, and not before.  Dem. 
Are these scandalous Villainies to be allowed of?  Syr. 
to Demea. Truly, Sir, I don't like 'em at all, and do often cry out,— to him within. Stephanio, see that the Saltfish be well watered.  Dem. 
Oh Heavens! Does he do this on purpose, or does he think 'twill be for his Credit to ruin his Son? What a sad Creature am I! Methinks I have the day before my Eyes when this Boy will be forced for want of bread to run his Country, and list himself a Soldier.  Syr. 
Oh, Sir! There's Wisdom now! to see things at a distance, and not only what's just before ye.  Dem. 
Well, have ye got the f●ddling Wench at your House?  Syr. 
She's there within.  Dem. 
The Devil! surely she's not to dwell there?  Syr. 
I believe, they're mad enough to have't so.  Dem. 
Is't possible?  Syr. 
Ah the foppish Fondness and pernicious easiness of a Father!  Dem. 
In good truth, I'm ashamed, and hearty grieved, for my Brother.  Syr. 
There's too much; Ay, a great deal too much difference, Sir, between you two (tho' I should'nt say so much before your Face) you, Sir, as much as there's o'ye, are Wisdom all over: but he's a mere Gimcrack. Would you ha' suffered your Son to ha' done thus!  Dem. 
Suffered him? Zooks! I should ha' smelt him out six whole Months, before he had been concerned in such a business.  Syr. 
Ah Sir, you need not tell me what a wary Man you are.  Dem. 
Heavens grant he may continue, as he is.  Syr. 
Children prove as their Father's make 'em.  Dem. 
But hark ye Syrus, Prithee didst see him to day? Fawning ●●.  Syr. 
Mr. Ctesipho, Sir! (I'll send the old Fool packing into the Country) Aside. He's gone into the Country, and hard at work by this time▪ to Demea.  Dem. 
Are you sure he's there?  Syr. 
Sure? Why I saw him out o'Town myself.  Dem. 
That's well. I was afraid he had loitered hereabout still.  Syr. 
And was in a plaguy Huff too.  Dem. 
At what prithee?  Syr. 
He fell out with his Brother i'th' open Market about the Music Wench.  Dem. 
Say you so?  Syr. 
I'faith he spoke his Mind freely; for when we were paying the Money, in drops he unawares upon the back on's: and sets up an outery; Arned ye ashamed Brother Eschine to commit such Villainies? That you should dishonour our Family at this vile rate?  Dem. 
E'dad he makes me weep for Joy.  Wipes his Eyes. Syr. 
You don't only weaken your Estate, but your Reputation too.  Dem. 
Heavens bless him! I hope he will never● degenerate.  Syr. 
Who questions it?  Dem. 
O Syrus, he poor Boy has his head full of these Morals.  Syr. 
And well he may, when he has such a Father at home to fill it.  Dem. 
I do my best, and leave no Stone unturned, but exercise him in all that's good. Above all I charge him, Look into men's Actions as into a Glass, and take Example by 'em. Practise this, say I.—  Syr. 
Very well indeed.  Dem. 
Eat that,  Syr. 
Shrew●d.  Dem. 
This is commendable.  Syr. 
There you hit it again.  Dem. 
That won't be allowed at all.  Syr. 
Most admirable.  Dem. 
And moreover.—  Syr. 
interrupting. Your Pardon, Sir, I am ned at leisure for your Moreovers: I've got an excellent Dish of Fish to my Tooth, and I must take special care that they bened spoiled: For that is as scandalous a business among us, Sir, as the neglect of your Duty is among them. And according to my Abilities I give my fellow Servants Instructions after the selfsame manner. This is too Salt (Say I●) That's too much, this isn't done cleanly enough; that's well done, pray remember to do so another time. I instruct 'em diligently, as well as my Palate will serve me. Last of all too, I bid them 'em look into their Dishes as into a Glass, and there learn their Duty. I confess these are all mere Toys: but what signifies that? We must suit our Morals to the Persons we deal with.— Please to command me, Sir?  Dem. 
Yes, to get a little more Wit among ye.  Syr. 
D'ye design for the Country, Sir?  Dem. 
Ay, to rights.  Syr. 
Ay, what should you do here, Sir, where all your good Morals are but thrown away?  
Exit Syrus.  
Demea alone.  
Ay, truly, I'll to my Countryfarm, since he that brought me hither is gone back again.— That Boy's all my care, he's my true Son; since my Brother will have his own way, let him look to that Rakehell.— But who comes yonder at a distance? Mr. Hegio, one of our own Ward?— If my Eyes don't fail me, 'tis he indeed. Ah, 've been Cronies from our Cradles. By Jove, such honest Citizens are very scarce now a-days! A Man● o'th' right old Stamp for Virtue and Fidelity, and wou'dned do the Government any harm for the World. How glad am I to see the remains of the old Stock! Ah, Life is a Pleasure to me now. I'll wait for him here, and bid him Good-morrow, and have a little discourse with him.  
Enter Hegio and Geta at a distance.  Heg. 
Ye Powers! A dishonourable Action! What is it you say, Geta? Ha!  Get. 
Just as I told ye.  Heg. 
That ever that Family should be guilty of such an ungenteel thing. Oh, Eschine! You didn't learn this of your Father, I'm sure.  Dem. 
overhearing. Yes, he has heard of this singing Wench too, and it nearly touches him though a Stranger: but his sweet Father takes no notice on't. Oh dismal! Would he was but by a little that he might hear all these Complaints.  Heg. 
If they won't give satisfaction, they mustned think to carry it off thus.  Get. 
We all rely upon you, Sir: We ha' none else to stand by us: You are our Guardian, and Father too. The old Gentleman upon his Deathbed bequeathed us all to your Care, and if you forsake us, we're utterly undone.  Heg. 
No more of that: I'll not forsake ye, nor can I do't with a safe Conscience.  Dem. 
I'll to him.— Honest Hegio, I'm hearty glad to see ye.  Heg. 
Oh! Mr. Demca, I'm your humble Servant, you are the Man I wanted.  Dem. 
How so, Sir?  Heg. 
Why your Eldest Son Eschine, whom your Brother has adopted, has done neither like an honest Man, nor a Gentleman.  Dem. 
What has he done?  Heg. 
You knew one Simulus, a Friend and Cotemporary of ours.  Dem. 
Yes, very well.  Heg. 
Why, he has debauched his Daughter?  Dem. 
Oh! Sighs.  Heg. 
Hold, Sir, the worst is to come yet.  Dem. 
What more Mischief still?  Heg. 
Yes, truly; for that was, in some measure excusable. He had Opportunity, Heat, Wine, and Youth to prompt him to't; 'twas but a humane Frailty. But when he was sensible of his Fault, he comes forthwith to her Mother, weeping, praying, entreating, promising and swearing he'd take her home and marry her: Upon this all was pardoned, hushed and relied upon. The young Woman proved with Child upon this; has gone her Forty Weeks. But this sweet Youth is got to a Ballad-singer, in the Devil's Name, keeps her at his Fathers, and has left the tother to shift for herself.  Dem. 
Is all this true are you sure?  Heg. 
The Mother is ready to prove it, the young Woman and the Business speaks itself: Besides, here's Geta, as Servants are now, none of the worst, a painful Fellow, who maintains 'em all, and keeps the whole Family himself; take him, bind him, force the Truth out of him.  Get. 
Yes, verily Sir, rack me to death, if all bened true: Besides Mr. Eschine himself won't deny it, pray, Sir, bring us Face to Face.  Dem. 
I'm horribly ashamed, and can't imagine what to do, or what answer to make him.  Pamphila 
within. Oh me! I'm torn in pieces,— Help ye Powers above, and ease me for Heaven's sake.  Heg. 
to Geta. Ha! Prithee was that she that cried out?  Get. 
Without doubt, Sir.  Heg. 
Ah, Mr. Demea, she calls upon your Honour now; and begs ye to do that freely, which the Law would else oblige ye to. I beg Heaven to inspire ye to do as you ought; but if you are otherwise minded, Mr. Demea, I'll maintain her and her dead Father's Cause to the last Penny in my Purse. He was my Kinsman, we were bred up Children together, we were together at Wars abroad, and Peace at home, and together we underwent the straits of Poverty: Therefore I'll about it, do my utmost, and bring it to a Trial, and rather lose my Life than desert these poor Women.— What answer will ye return?  Dem. 
I'll go talk with my Brother, Sir; what Advice he gives, that I'll follow.  Heg. 
But, Mr. Demea, do but consider with yourself, that the more you live at Ease, the more Powerful, the more Rich, the more Happy, and the more Noble you are, so much the more Honest and Just aught you to be, if you'd be thought Men of Honour.  Dem. 
Away! No more, you shall have all Right and Justice done you.  Heg. 
Spoken like a worthy Gentleman.— Geta, bring me to your Mistress.  
Exeunt Hegio and Geta.  Demea alone. 
This was no more than I foretold. I wish to my Soul this was the last mad Prank! But this allowance of so much Liberty will end at last in so me sad Story or other.— Well I'll go hunt for my Brother, and discharge this News in his very Face. Exit Demea.  
At the same time reenters Hegio.  Heg. 
to Sostrata within. Cheer up, good Coz, ANd comfort your Child's poor heart as much aS you can. I'll go discourse Mr. Micio, if he be at the Piazza, and let him know how the Case stands; if he designs to do us right, well and good; If not, let him declare it plainly; that I may know how to take my Measures accordingly. Exit.  
The End of the Third Act.   

ACT IU.  Ctesipho and Syrus. Ctes. 
entering.— MY Father gone into the Country say ye?  Syr. 
Above an hour ago.  Ctes. 
Prithee tell me true.  Syr. 
He's at his grange, slaving himself most horribly by this time, I'll warrant ye.  Ctes. 
Faith, if it might not endanger his health, ●●cou'd wish hearty he might be so miserably tired, as to be laid up these three days.  Syr. 
So say I: and a longer time too, if possible.  Ctes. 
Ay, ay: for I'd very fain, now I've begun the day merrily, make an end of it merrily too▪ The only Quarrel I have with our Countty-house is, that 'tis too, nigh the Town: Were it farther off, before he could get thither and back again, '●would be Night first. But now when he finds no Ctesipho at home, I'm sure he'll be upo' th' spur back again in an instant. Then to Catechising he goes: Pray where ha' you been, Sir? What? Can't a Man have a glimpse of ye, in a whole day's time? What excuse. shall I have?  Syr. 
Han't ye got one ready?  Ctes. 
The Devil a one have 1  Syr. 
So much the worse: Why if you had but, one of your Domestics, a Friend, or a guest, that were better than no body yet.  Ctes. 
I have, what then?  Syr. 
Pretend you had hasty business to dispatch.  Ctes. 
What when I had none?— 'Twon't do.  Syr. 
'Twill tho.  Ctes. 
Ay for the day: but if I lie out all Night, what excuse then Syrus?  Syr. 
'Tis pity it is not more the Fashion to serve a Friend in the Nights as well as day.— But however, set your heart at rest; I know your Father's humour to a hair. When he rages like a Lion, I can presently make him as quiet as a Lamb.  Ctes. 
As how, I prithee?  Syr. 
Oh, he's mightily tickled when any body commends you: I make ye a very Saint before▪ him, and reckon up all your virtuous Qualities.  Ctes. 
Mine?  Syr. 
Ay, yours: Then of a sudden the good Man cries like a little Child, for Joy.— Look to yourself there.  
Enter Demea at a distance.  Ctes. 
starting. What d'ye mean?  Syr. 
Talk o'th' Devil and his Horns appear▪  Ctes. 
Is't my Father?  Syr. 
The very same.  Ctes. 
Prithee, Syrus, what shall we do now?  Syr. 
Run in quickly, I'll set my Wits to work.  Ctes. 
If he ask for me, say you han't seen me, d'ye hear?  Syr. 
Can ye hold your Tongue?  
Exit Ctesipho.  Dem. 
to himself. I'm the unluckiest Creature that ever was born▪ In the first place, my Brother is not to be found above Ground: Then as I was looking for him, who should I see but a Workman just come from my Countryhouse, and says my Boy isn't there neither. Nor can I tell for my Life what course to steer.  Ctes. 
appearing at the Window. Syrus!  Syr. 
What say ye?  Ctes. 
Does he inquire for me?  Syr. 
Yes, Faith.  Ctes. 
I'm undone.  Syr. 
Come, don't be discouraged.  Dem. 
to himself. How great is this my Misfortune! I can't sufficiently understand it, unless I was predestinated to be miserable. Is there any mischief happens to our Family, to be sure I'm the first that am sensible on't, the first that knows it, the first that reports it, and the only Man that feels the weight when it falls.  Syr. 
Faith I can't but laugh at him, to hear him say, that he's the first that knows every thing, when he's the only Man that knows nothing. Aside.  Dem. 
to himself. I'll even go again to see if my Brother be come back.  Ctes. 
Prithee, good Syrus, take care he don't break in upon us unawares.  Syr. 
Peace I say, I'll take care about it.  Ctes. 
Faith, Sir, but I shan't trust my Concerns in your hands to day: For I'll secure my Girl and myself in some by Closet or other; E'dad that will be the surest way by half. Ctesipho retires.  Syr. 
Away! I'll clear the Coast of him in a trice Syr. moves towards Demea shrugging his Shoulders, and snivelling.  Dem. 
Oh, there's the Hellhound, Syrus.  Syr. 
to himself. If this Trade last long, there'll be not enduring the House. I'd fain know of their Worships how many Masters I am to have; what a damnable thing is this?  Dem. 
What a yelping this Cur makes? What does he all?— What say you honest Man? Is my Brother at home? Ha!  Syr. 
Pox o'your honest Men, I'm a dead Man.  Dem. 
What's the Matter?  Syr. 
The Matter with a plague? Your sober stayed Son Ctesipho has almost beaten poor me and the Music Girl to death.  Dem. 
what's that you say? Ha!  Syr. 
See how he has slit my Lip up to my Nose.  Dem. 
How comes this to pass?  Syr. 
He says, I was the occasion o'the buying of her.  Dem. 
Didn't you just now tell me, he was gone into the Country, and you brought him part o'th' way.  Syr. 
True, Sir. But after that he came raving like a Madman, sparing never a Mother's Son of us. He might ha' been ashamed to fall upon the Bones of a poor old Man, who t'other day dandled him in my Arms, when he was no higher than this. Shows how high.  Dem. 
Ha'— ha'— he— God-a-mercy Ctesipho: Old Demea right. Well! thou'rt a Man every Inch of thee.  Syr. 
D'ye commend him? but i'faith he had best keep his flippant Fingers to himself another time, if he understands himself.  Dem. 
'Tis bravely done!  Syr. 
Very bravely indeed! To Cockcrow over a silly Woman, and a poor Servant, that darened hold up a Finger against him?— Yes, 'twas wonderful brave i'faith.  Dem. 
He couldn't ha' done better. He's o' my Opinion in thinking you to be the Ringleader of this Roguery.— But is my Brother within?  Syr. 
No, he's abroad.  Dem. 
I'm thinking where aduce I may look for him.  Syr. 
I know where he's gone, but shan't tell till to Morrow.  Dem. 
What's that you say, Sirrah? hah!  Syr. 
Just so, Sir.  Dem. 
I'll crack your Skull presently ye Dog.  Holds up his Cane. Syr. 
bantering. I know not the Man's Name where he is; but the Place I do.  Dem. 
Then tell me the place, Sirrah.  Syr. 
still bantering. Do you know the great Portico, that overlooks the Butcher-row as you go down there?  Dem. 
Well, what then?  Syr. 
still bantering. Go straight along this Street up there. pointing with his Fingers. When you are got there, you'll find on this hand a Descent, make a civil step down there. After that you'll see a little Chapel on that hand, and hard by that a little narrow Lane.  Dem. 
Whereabouts is that?  Syr. 
There, where the great wild Figtree stands, d'ye know it, Sir?  Dem. 
I do.  Syr. 
Keep directly through that.  Dem. 
But that narrow Lane is no Thoroughfare.  Syr. 
Ud's my Life 'tis true: I see I'm a silly Blockhead, I was out. You must come back again to the great Protico: e'dad here's a nigher way, and easier to hit on. D'ye know my Lord Cratine's great house?  Dem. 
Yes.  Syr. 
When you are passed that, turn to the Lefthand down the same Street: and when you're come to the Temple turn to the Right-hand: before you come to the City Gates hard by the Horsepond, there's a certain Mill, right over-against that is a joiner's Shop, and there you'll find the Gentleman.  Dem. 
What business has he there?  Syr. 
To speak for little Oaken-ledged Tables to set in the Sun.—  Dem. 
For your Worships to drink about— Fine work I faith. But why ain't I gone to him?  
Exit Demea.  Syrus alone. 
Go thy ways for a Fool: I'll work thee off thy Stump, as thou deservest, thou old doting Churl.— But Mr. Eschine stays a bloody while: Dinner will be quite spoiled: As for Ctesipho hes wholly taken up with his Mistress: but I●●● take care of my own sweet Corpse; and will pick out all the good Bits I can find, take off my Cups of my leisure, and so make the day as long as I can. Exit Syrus.  
Enter Micio and Hegio.  Mic. 
entering.— Indeed, Mr. Hegio, I can see nothing i'th' whole business that deserves such mighty Commendations. I discharge but my Duty, and give satisfaction for the Faults of my own house: Perhaps you took me to be one of those Men that think they receive an Injury when they do't themselves, and so call Whore first: Now 'cause I didn't serve you so, d'ye think yourself obliged to me for't?  Heg. 
Far be it from me! I never imagined ye to be otherwise than I really find ye: but let me engage ye so far as to step over with me to the Girl's Mother; and tell her the very same you told me: that their Jealousy was false grounded, and that he took away the Music Girl for his Brother.  Mic. 
If you think it convenient and necessary let's be going.  Heg. 
You do well, Sir! For you'll lighten the poor creatures' heart that's ready to sink with Grief and Vexation, and keep up the character of a worthy Gentlemen. But, Sir, if you don't think it so proper, I'll tell her what you say myself.  Mic. 
No, no, I'll go with ye.  Heg. 
You oblige me, Sir: For howsoever it comes about, all that are a little down in the world are very suspicious; take every thing at the worst hand, and fancy themselves slighted, cause of their Misfortunes: Therefore 'twill give great satisfaction to clear Mr. Eschine yourself.  Heg. 
You say nothing but what's tru●e and reasonable.  Heg. 
Be pleased, Sir, to come this way.  Mic. 
I will.  
Exeunt Hegio and Micio at the same time.  Eschine 
Enter alone. I'm quite distracted! That I should be so surprised with this unlucky Misfortune, that I know not what to do or undertake! Fear enfeebles my Limbs, Amazement shakes my Soul, and my Heart's uncapable of Advice. Alas! how shall I wind myself out of these Encumbrances, since their Jealousies are seemingly wellgrounded? Mrs. Sostrata believes I bought the Music Girl for myself: Old Canthara gave me to understand as much. For by chance I saw her as she was going for the Midwife, I presently made up to her, and asked her how my dear Pamphila did, whether she was near her time; and whether she was then going for the Midwife? She presently let fly upon me. In another Tone. Away, away Mr. Eschine; 've befooled us long enough, 've cajoled us sufficiently with your fine Promises. Alack-a-day (said I) prithee what dost mean? You may go now (continued she) and take up with the Girl you are so enamoured with. I immediately perceived their Jealousy: But yet I kept my Tongue between my Teeth, that I might not blab out any o' my Brother's Secrets to that tattling Gipsy, to have it blazed about the Town in an instant— But what shall I do now? Shall I go and say she's my Brother's? A thing that ought not ought not to be revealed for the World.— Well! Let that pass, perhaps they won't discover it. Then I am afraid they want take things as they are, there are so many Probabilities against me. 'twas I, u self that took her away, I myself that paid the Money for her, and 'twas I that furnished her with Lodgings. I must own the Fault of all this lies at my door: For not telling my Father how Cases stood between me and my Mistress; and not begging his Consent to take her home and marry her. We●ve been in a dead sleep till now, but now Eschine rouse thyself up. First of all I'll go to'em and clear myself.— I'll up to the Door straight. Goes and steps short. Oh my heart! how sadly it pants whensoever I knock at this Door Goes and knocks. Soho! 'Tis your Friend Eschine; some body open the Door quickly.— But, ha'! I can't imagine who comes out there?— I'll step a one side.  Enter Micio Mic. 
to Sostrata within. Do as I ordered ye Mrs. Sostrata, I'll find out Efchine to acquaiut him how Matters are carried on.— But where's he that knocked at the Door?  Esch. 
'Sdeath! My Father's Voice! I'm at a cursed Nonplus. Aside.  Mic. 
Eschine.  Esch. 
What business has he here? Aside.  Mic. 
Wast you that knocked at the door?— He's mute: Suppose I should banter with him a little, I believe 'twouldn't be amiss, since he'd never trust me with this Secret.— Aside,  Mic. 
What can't ye speak? To Eschine.  Esch. 
I didn't knock as I know of.  Mic. 
Indeed? Nay, I wondered what business should bring you hither. He blushes: that's sign good enough Aside.  Esch. 
Good, Sir, (if I may be so bold) what business had you at that House?  Mic. 
None o' my own. A Friend o' mine brought me from the Change to be his Spokesman in a Concern of his.  Esch. 
What was the Concern, Sir?  Mic. 
●●l tell ye: In this House dwells an ordinary Woman or two; which I suppose you don't know, ●●, I'm sure you done't; for they han't lived long in these parts.  Esch. 
Well, Sir, and what then?  Mic. 
Here's an old Woman and her Daughter.—  Esch. 
So, Sir.  Mic. 
— The Daughter has buried her Father: Now this Friend o' mine is the nearest Relation, and by Law is forced to marry her himself.  Esch. 
Undone! Aside.  Mic. 
partly hearing. What's the Matter?  Esch. 
Nothing, very well.— Proceed, Sir.  Mic. 
You must know he's just now come to take her away with him: For he dwells at Miletus.  Esch. 
How! To take the Girl away with him?  Concernedly. Mic. 
Yes.  Esch. 
What as far as Miletus, pray Sir?  Mic. 
Ay.  Esch 
aside. It stabs me to the Heart.— And the Women, Sir, what say they to't.  Mic. 
What should they, think ye? Even just nothing: Only the Mother pretends her Daughter has a Child by another Man (I can't tell who, for she named him not) that he was the first comer, therefore the Kinsman must go without her.  Esch. 
So, Sir: And wasn't that a sufficient Demurrer?  Mic. 
No, indeed.  Esch. 
Why so, I beseech ye? Will he take her away in good earnest?  Mic. 
Ay, why should'nt he?  Esch. 
Indeed, Sir, this was extreme severe and cruel, (if I might take the Liberty) I might say ungenreely done.  Mic. 
How so?  Esch. 
How so? What d'ye think will become o'th' poor young Man her first Lover (who for ought you know loves her most desperately) when he shall see her ravished before his Face, and hurried away from his sight for ever? Oh, 'twas a very dishonourable thing of you, Sir!  Mic. 
Why d'ye talk at this rate? Whose Promise had he? Or whose Consent? When, and how were they married? Pray who's the Man? What made him encroach upon another Man's Right?  Esch. 
Was it fit for a Girl of her age to sit crosslegged at home waiting for a Kinsman's coming the Lord knows when? Indeed, dear Father, you ought in Justice to have alleged that, and ha' defended it.  Mic. 
Very good! Should I ha' pleaded against my own Client?— but prithee Boy, what's all this to us? Or what ha' we to do with them?— Come let's be going— How now Boy! why in tears tho? Eschine weeps.  Esch. 
Hear me one word, Sir, I beseech ye.  Mic. 
Poor Boy! I've heard and know all: For loving thee I couldn't but be concerned in whate'er thou dost.  Esch. 
Dear Sir! I'd fain deserve your Love as long as you live. This Fault grieves me to the Soul; and I'm quite ashamed to look you in the Face.  Mic. 
I believe it sincerely: For I well know thy generous Temper: but I'm afraid you don't mind your own Concerns. What kind of Government is it that you think you live in? Thou hast debauched a Girl, whom by Law thou oughtest not to have touched; that's a great Fault, and tho' very great 'tis but a common failing: Others ha' done it often, and Men of Repute too. But when that was done, tell me, did you take the least care about it? Or did you forecast in such a case what should ha' been done? Or how it should ha' been done? And if thou hadst been ashamed to tell it me, couldn't I ha' know on't by others? In this you were in doubt of for ten Months together: So you have betrayed yourself, the poor young Woman, and your own Child too, as much as you were able. What? D'ye think that the God's should do your work for ye, and you sleep the while? Must she be brought to your Bedside, as if she were not worth the fetching? I wou dned ha' thee so miserably careless in other things for the World.— Come don't be cast down however, thou shalt marry her.  Esch. 
How?  Mic. 
Don't be cast down, I say.  Esch. 
Pray, Sir, are ye in earnest?  Mic. 
In earnest: Why not?  Esch. 
That I can't tell, unless 'tis 'cause the more passionately I desire to have it so, the more I'm afraid it won't be so.  Mic. 
Get thee home, and say your Prayers, and then send for your Wife, go, get thee gone.  Esch. 
What send for her presently?  Mic. 
Yes, presently.  Esch. 
What presently?  Mic. 
Presently, as soon as possible.  Esch. 
Let me never see good day, Sir, if I don't love ye better than my very Eyes.  Mic. 
Than your Mistress too?  Esch. 
Full as well.  Mic. 
That's much, indeed.  Esch. 
But what's become of the Miletian Spark?  Mic. 
He's vanished, shipped off, and cast away by this time.— But why don't ye go, I say to your Prayers.  Esch. 
It would be better for you to do that, S●ir. I'm sure your Prayers will be heard sooner than mine, since you are the better Man o' th' two.  Mic. 
I'll in, and take care of what's wanting. Do as I bid thee, if thou knowst what's best for thyself. Exit Micio.  Eschine alone. 
What Happiness is this? would any one think he's my Father, or I his Son? If he had been a Friend or a Brother could he ha' been more kind or obliging! Ought I not to love him? To wear him next my Heart? His wonderful Complaisance has obliged me to be so cautious, as imprudently to do nothing that may displease him; wherefore I'll now be always upo' my Guard.— But why done't I go in, that I may not defer my Marriage! Exit Eschine.  Demea Enter alone out of Breath. 
I'm quite foundered with trotting up and down.— A plague confound thee, Syrus, for thy damned Directions.— I've hobbled over the whole Town, been at the Gate, at the Horse-pond, and where not? The Devil a joiner's Shop could I find; or any Soul that so much as saw my Brother.— But now, I'm resolved I won't stir a step out of his House, till he comes back.  
Going off, and then enters Micio.  Mic. 
entering. I'll go and tell 'em for our parts we are ready.  Dem. 
Oh, here he comes.— I've been looking for you these two hours.  Mic. 
What's the business now?  Dem. 
I've fresh News to tell ye: horrid Villainies of that fine Son of yours.  Mic. 
Look ye now. Aside.  Dem. 
New Villainies, damnable Villainies!  Mic. 
Prithee no more.  Dem. 
Ah, you don't know what a fine Blade he is.  Mic. 
But I do.  Dem. 
Poor Simpleton! I warrant thou dreamest I'm about the Singing-wench: No, the Rascal has debauched a Citizen's Daughter.  Mic. 
That I know too.  Dem. 
Bless me! D'ye know it and suffer it too?  Mic. 
Ah, why should'nt I?  Dem. 
What? Methinks you should bellow and run mad at it.  Mic. 
No: But I could wish it otherwise.  Dem. 
He has got a Bastard too.  Mic. 
Heavens bless it, say I.  Dem. 
And the Woman's not worth a Groat.  Mic. 
So they say.  Dem. 
And shall he be married to a Beggar?  Mic. 
Yea verily.  Dem. 
Well, and what's to be done next prey?  Mic. 
Why even what should be done next, have the young Woman brought home.  Dem. 
Monstrous! And will ye suffered?  Mic. 
How can I avoid it?  Dem. 
Avoid it? Why, if you were not really concerned at it, 'twould become ye to seem so however.  Mic. 
I've given consent already: The business is concluded on: The Wedding's as good as over: Every thing is secure, and I think this becomes me better.  Dem. 
Then this Adventure pleases you wonderfully?  Mic. 
No, if I knew how to help it: since I can't, I must bear't patiently. Man's Life is like a Game at Tables, if you miss the Cast 've most need of, you must correct that by Skill which fell out by chance.  Dem. 
Your Servant, Mr. Corrector! Your Skill as you call it has fooled away Fifty Guinea's upon a Ballad-singer; who in three or four days time must be packed off; if not for a Piece of Money, at any rate.  Mic. 
There's no body to buy her, nor do I design to sell her.  Dem. 
What aduce will ye do with her then?  Mic. 
Why keep her at home.  Dem. 
Mercy upon my Soul●l A Whore and a Wife under the same Roof?  Mic. 
Why not, prithee?  Dem. 
And you are sure you arned mad?  Mic. 
Yes, indeed.  Dem. 
Let me die, if e'er I saw the like Folly● I'faith I believe thou thyself hast a mind to have a merry strain with her now and then.  Mic. 
Why should'nt I?  Dem. 
And the Bride, won't she be for learning the same Tune too?  Mic. 
No doubt on't.  Dem. 
And thou pretty Child wilt hobble out the Hay amongst 'em too?  Mic. 
Like enough.  Dem. 
Like enough with a Pox?  Mic. 
And rather than fail, Brother, thou shalt make one o' th' Company.  Dem. 
S'death! Are ye past all shame?  Mic. 
Prithee, Brother, throw off this sullen Humour of thine, and like a civil Person be free and merry at your Son's Wedding.— I'll just step and speak a word at that House, and then I'll come back again. Exit to Sostrata ' s.  Demea alone. 
Here's a sweet Life! Here are fine Morals! Here's mad work with a witness!— Let me see, a Wife not worth a Groat; a Ballad-singer under the same Roof: Every thing running to riot i' th' House: A profligate young Rogue, and a doting old Sot into the Bargain: Why Providence itself, if it should go about it, would never be able to save this Family.  
Enter Syrus, at a distance almost Drunk.  Syr. 
to himself. Faith and troth my little Rogue Sy, thou hast junketted thy pretty self deliciously, and played thy part very sumptuously. Go thy ways for a Wag— stroke himself. Since I've stuffed my sweet Corpse with the Dainties within, 'tis my Honour's Pleasure to take a turn i' th' fresh Air without. Walks and struts.  Dem. 
There goes a rare Model of their Education.  Syr. 
Oh here's our old Stingo i'faith— How is't old Gentleman? Why so alamort?  Dem. 
Oh damned Rascal.  Syr. 
How now old Wisdom, are you come to vent more Morals here? Belches.  Dem. 
Would I were thy Master,—  Syr. 
E'gad you'd be the richest Man under the Sun, and your Estate would be improved to a Miracle.  Dem. 
I'd make thee an Example to all Rogues.  Syr. 
Why so? What have I done?  Dem. 
Done, Rascal? In the heat of a disturbance, and in the midst of a most horrid crime, scarce yet settled, 've got drunk ye Swine, as if all were well and over.  Syr. 
Faith, would I had kept my Post. Aside.  
Enter Dromo.  Dro. 
D'ye hear Syrus? Mr. Ctesipho would pray ye to come to him.  Syr. 
Away with a Pox. Softly. Exit Dromo.  Dem. 
What's that he said of Ctesipho?  Syr. 
Nothing, Sir.  Dem. 
How ye Goal-bird! Is Ctesipho nested there●  Syr. 
No, Sir; no.  Dem. 
How came the Boy to name him then?  Syr. 
That's another of the Name, a young Smell feast; d'ye know him?  Dem. 
I will know presently. Going off.  Syr. 
holding him. What d'ye mean, Sir? Whither are ye going?  Dem. 
Dog, let me go.  Syr. 
I say, don't go.  Dem. 
Hands off ye Hellhound; or by Heavens I'll brain ye. He holds up his Cane, and Syrus let's go. Exit in a Fury.  Syrus alone. 
The Devil go with him: I'll be sworn he'll be no welcome Reveller to any of them, especially to poor Ctesipho.— Zookers! where shall I bestow myself?— The time this plaguy Storm is blowing over, I'll even slink into some by-corner, and there sleep out this Dose of Tipple. I think that will be best. Exit staggering.  
The End of the Fourth Act.   

ACT V.  
Enter Micio as from Sostrata 's  Mie. 
to Sostrata within. EVERY thing's ready with us, as I said before: And the Wedding shall be when you please— Coming forward. But who's that makes our Doors fly so?  
Enter Domea from Micio ' s raving and in a passion.  Dem. 
to himself. Hell and Furies! What shall I do?— What will become of me? Heavens, Earth, Seas! Whether am I to direct my Exclamations or Complaints?  Mic. 
Here's a Man for ye! He has smelled out the Intrigue, and that makes him bellow so.— 'Tis so, I must expect a smart brush: But the Boys must be helped. Aside.  Dem. 
Oh here comes the common Bane and Ruin of our Children.  Mic. 
Pray Brother moderate your passion, and be a little cool.  Dem. 
Well, I am moderate; I am cool.— I'll not give ye an ill word. Let's reason the case calmly— Wasn't it a plain Bargain between us (and that of your own proposing too) that you should ha' nothing to do with my Son, nor I with years? Answer me directly now.  Mic. 
True; I don't deny it.  Dem. 
What makes him a guzzling at your House then? Why d'ye entertain my Child? Why 〈◊〉 procure him a Wench, Brother? Is there not the same reason for you to deal as fairly by me, as I do by you? Since I neither meddle nor make with your Son, methinks you shou'dned with mine.  Mic. 
There's no reason for that: None at all. The old Proverb says, Among Friends all things are common.  Dem. 
Very pretty I faith! Are you come to talk at that rate at last?  Mic. 
Good Brother, hear me a word if it be'nt too great trouble to ye. First of all, if your Son's Charges are such a woeful burden to ye, pray consider a little with yourself, that formerly you maintained both of 'em according as your Estate would bear it; and thought it then sufficient for both; looking upon me as likely enough to marry: Why even follow that old course still, ●●ard, scrape, pinch, do all you can to raise their Fortunes, and take the credit of it to yourself. But then let the poor Rogues make use of my Purse freely, since that comes to 'em over and ●●●ve— IT won't diminith one Furrow of ●●● Land, and what they have from me, you may look upon as clear Gains. Now, Brother, if you do but impartially weigh all this, you'd ease m●●our self, and the poor Boys, of a world of tr●●●●  Dem. 
I don't 〈…〉 Money, 'tis their Morals—  Mic. 
Hold, 〈…〉. That's it I was going upon Many 〈…〉 may be made, Brother, upon 〈…〉 same thing; by which a Man ma conclude, 〈◊〉 be the ruin of the one, and no great hurt to the 〈◊〉: Not that there's any difference in the thing, 〈…〉 the Persons that did it. Truly, by what I 〈◊〉 the Boys, I'm confident they'll prove to our 〈◊〉 desire: I find they have Wit, Discretion, and Modesty enough upon occasion, and love one another entirely: so that 'tis easy to perceive their generous Nature and Spirit: You may reclaim 'em when you please: But perhaps you are afraid they aren't Husbands good enough. Ah, Brother, Age has always this ill Property with it; as it makes us wiser, so it makes us more worldly: And that will sufficiently incite 'em to be good Husbands.  Dem. 
Have a care Brother, these your fine Reasonings and gentle Nature don't ruin us all.  Mic. 
Peace, ne'er fear that: Lay aside this Disease, and be ruled by me to day:— Come, 〈◊〉 up your countenance.  Dem. 
more pleasantly. Well, since things require ●●, I must do so. But to morrow I'll into the Country with my Son by break of day,—  Mic. 
At Midnight if you please, so you be but merry to day.  Dem. 
— And take that singing Wench along with me too.  Mic. 
Best of all; by that means you'll keep 〈◊〉 Son from rambling: Only take care she don't 〈◊〉 ye the slip.  Dem 
I'll warrant●ye.— And then between the Oven and the Mill, I'll so besmear her with Cinders, Smoke and Meal.— Besides in the heat of the day, I'll send her to rake up Stubble till she be Sunburnt, and as black as a Coal.  Mic. 
That's excellent: Now methinks you have some Prudence in ye; and whilst she's in this cursed pickle, make your Son lie with her Nolens-Volens.  Dem. 
D'ye rally? well, you are a happy Man, to bear things so well, for my part I must—  Mic. 
interrupting What always in the same strain?  Dem. 
I ha' done, I ha' done.  Mic. 
Pray walk in then, and since the Day's designed for Mirth, let's as merrily spend it.  
Exit Micio.  Demea alone. 
Never did Man cast up the business of his Life so exactly; but still Experience, Years and Custom will bring in some new particulars that he was not ware of, and show his Ignorance of what he thought he knew, and after trial make him reject his former Opinions. This is plainly my case at present; for since my Glass is almost out, I renounce this rigid Life I have always led. But why so? Because Experience shows me there's nothing like gentleness and good nature: And this truth appears plainly to all that know me and my Brother. He always spent his time in Ease and Pleasure; always courteous, complaisant, speaking ill of no Man, but caressed all: lived as he pleased, spent as he thought sit, the World bless him, and love him too: But I, that rustic, rigid, morose, pinching, brutish, griping Fellow, must need marry; and how have I smarted for't! I had Children too, those were new Troubles: And truly, in raising up their Fortunes, I've worn out my Life and best Days; and now I'm just a marching ●● the Stage, the Fruit of all my Labour is to be ●●ted like a Toad. But my Brother enjoys all 〈◊〉 Pleasures of a Father without the drudgery; they love him, and fly me like the Plague. Him 〈◊〉 trust with all their Secrets, dote upon him, l●●e with him, but me they slight: They both pray 〈◊〉 his Life, but long for my Death: Those I have brought up with the greatest Labour, he has guard with a little Cost; so I take all the Pains, and he reaps all the Pleasure.— Well, well, for once we'll try what can be done, whether we can speak obligingly, and act the Gentleman too, since my Brother urges me to't I'd willingly have my Children love and respect me too; if Gifts and Compliments will do the Feat, I'll not be behind with best of 'em: but my Estate must go to wrack: What care I for that, since I've one Foot in the Grave already.  To him enter Syrus. Syr. 
D'ye hear, Sir, my Master desires you would'nt be out o'th' way.  Dem. 
Who calls there?— Honest Syrus, I'm glad to see thee: How is't? How goes the World?  Syr. 
Very well, Sir. Yawning.  Dem. 
aside. Excellent! This is the first time Ie'r used these expressions, Honest Syrus, How is't? How goes the World? They came out plaguily against the grain.— To Syrus. Thou hast shown thyself an admirable Servant, and I will do thee a good turn with all my Soul, I fack I will.  Syr. 
I'm very much obliged to you, Sir.  Dem. 
I fack Boy 'tis true; and thou shalt find it so ere long.  
Enter Geta at another part of the Stage.  Get. 
to Sostrata within. I'll go find 'em, Madam, and hasten 'em to carry over my young Mistress.— Coming from the Door. O here's Mr. Demea.— Your humble Servant, Sir.  Dem. 
Prithee Lad what may I call thy Name?  Get. 
Geta, Sir.  Dem. 
Honest Geta, why I look upon thee at present to be worth th' weight in Gold; I'd never desire to be better satisfied in a Servant, than that he should be as trusty to his Master, as I have found thee to be, Geta. For that reason, when it lies in my way, I'll do thee a good turn with all my Soul, I fack I will— I'm acting, Sir Courtly, and I do't rarely methinks. Aside.  Get. 
That's more your Goodness than my Deserts.  Dem. 
I shall do't by degrees: First of all I'll make these Scoundrels my own Aside.  Esch. 
to himself. These delays kill me: That they should trifle away the time with their formal Ceremonies, and tedious Preparations for the Wedding.  Dem. 
Eschine, Boy, How wags the World?  Esch. 
Ha! Are you here my dear Father?  Dem. 
Ay, i'faith Boy, I am thy Father both by Inclination, and by Nature too, and tender thee more than my Eyes— But why dostned thou send for thy sweet Lady?  Esch. 
I desire nothing more; I only stay for the City-waits and Singing-men.  Dem. 
Ho, Wilt thou take an old Fellow's Counsel for once?  Esch. 
Let's hear't pray, Sir.  Dem. 
Hang your Songsters, your Hubbubs, Flambeaux and Scrapers: And order the great Stone Wall i'th' Garden to be pulled down immediately, and convey her home that way: Run both Houses into one, and bring over the Mother, and her whole Family to yours.  Esch. 
With all my heart. The pleasantest Father i'th' World!  Dem. 
aside. hay brave! I'm called pleasant now: My Brother's House will be a Thoroughfare to all Comers, the whole Town will be there presently: His Purse must smoke for't, and to some Tune too. But what's that to me? whilst by my complaisance I oblige all. Aloud to Eschine. Go bid Babylo tell out half a hundred Guinea's quick.— But, Syrus, why don't you do as you are bid?  Syr. 
What, Sir?  Dem. 
Break down the Wall.— And do you Geta go, and bring 'em hither.  Get. 
Ay, God bless your Worship for being so kind to our poor Family. Exeunt Geta and Syrus.  Dem. 
'Tis no less than you deserve.— What say'st thou Boy, hah!  Esch. 
I'm o' your Opinion, Sir.  Dem. 
'Tis forty times better than bringing a Lying-in-Woman along the Streets.  Esch. 
Indeed, Sir! I know nothing like it.  Dem. 
This is my way.— But here comes my Brother. Enter Micio.  Mic. 
to Syrus within. My Brother order it, say ye?— Where is he? Ha', Brother, waste you that ordered this?  Dem. 
Yes, that I do: And in this, and all other things, I'm ready to do what may conduce to the uniting, serving, helping, and joining both Families together.  Esch. 
Pray, Sir, let it be so. To Micio.  Mic. 
Well, I've nothing to say against it.  Dem. 
Troth 'tis no more than we are obliged to.— For first, she's your Son's Wife's Mother.—  Mic. 
What then?  Dem. 
A very virtuous and modest Woman.—  Mic. 
So they say indeed.  Dem. 
Pretty well in years.—  Mic. 
She is so.  Dem. 
And past Childbearing, a lonesome Woman, and no body regards her.—  Mic. 
What aduce would he be at? Aside.  Dem. 
— Therefore you ought to marry her, and you Eschine to do what you can to bring it about.  Mic. 
Who I marry? Dem. Yes, you.  Mic. 
I prithee? Dem. Yes, you I say.  Mic. 
Po, you do but fool surely.  Dem. 
to Eschine. If thou hast any Life and Soul in thee, make him do't.  Esch. 
Dear Father—  Mic. 
interrupting. What? And dost thou Blockhead mind what he says?  Dem. 
'tis in vain to refuse, it can't be avoided.  Mic. 
Po, you dote surely.  Esch. 
Good Sir! Let me obtain that Favour.  Mic. 
Art out of thy Wits, let me alone. angrily.  Dem. 
Come, come, harken to what your Son says for once.  Mic. 
Han't ye played the fool enough yet? Shall I marry at Threescore and Five? And to an old Woman that's ready to drop into the Grave? This is your wise Counsel, is't?  Esch. 
Pray Sir do, I've promised it.  Mic. 
You promise with a Mischief! Promise for thyself, Chit.  Dem. 
Fie, fie! What if he had begged a greater thing at your hands?  Mic. 
As if there was any thing greater than this.  Dem. 
Pray grant his Request.  Esch. 
Good Sir, bened so hard to be entreated.  Dem. 
Po, promise him for once  Mic. 
Will ye never leave baiting me?  Esch. 
Not till I've prevailed, Sir.  Mic. 
Troth, this is downright forcing a Man.  Dem. 
Come, Micio, be good natured and do't.  Mic. 
Tho' this be the most damned, foolish, ridiculous Whim, and the most averse to my Nature that can be; yet since you are so extremely hot upon't, I'll humour ye for once.  Esch. 
This is excellent, I'm obliged to ye beyond measure.  Dem. 
aside. Well, what's next?— What shall I say next? This is as I'd have it.— What's more to be done?— to Micio. Ho! there's Hegio our poor Kinsman, and nighest Relation; in truth, we ought in Conscience to do something for him.  Mic. 
What pray?  Dem. 
There's a small piece in the Suburbs, which you Farm out, pray let's give him that to live on.  Mic. 
A small one say ye?  Dem. 
Were it a great one you might give it to him: He has been as good as as Father to Pamphila: Is a very honest Man, our Kinsman, and you can't bestow it better: Besides, Brother, there's a certain Proverb none of my own (I assure ye) which you so well and wisely made use of: That Age has always that ill Property of making us more Worldly, as well as more Wise. We should do well to keep clear of this Scandal. 'Tis a true Proverb, Brother, and aught to be regarded.  Mic. 
What's all this?— Well, let it be so, if he must needs have it so.  Esch. 
Brave Father I vow.  Dem. 
Now you are my true Brother, both in Body and Soul.  Mic. 
I'm glad on't.  Dem. 
I've stabbed him with his own Weapons ● sack. Aside laughing.  
Enter Syrus with a Pick-Ax upon his Shoulders.  Syr. 
to Demea. The Job is done as you ordered, ●●●.  Dem. 
Thou art an honest Lad.— And o' my Conscience I think Syrus deserves his Freedom.  Mic. 
He his Freedom? For what Exploit?  Dem. 
O for a thousand.  Syr. 
O dear Mr. Demea, you are a rare Gentleman, e'dad you are. You know I've looked to the young Gentlemen from their very Cradles: I taught 'em, advised 'em, and instructed 'em all I could possible.  Dem. 
Nothing more evident: Nay more than that, he catered for 'em, pimped for 'em, and took care of a Debauchees i'th' Morning for 'em. These are no ordinary Accomplishments, I can assure ye.  Syr. 
Your worship's very merry.  Dem. 
Besides he was Adjutant-General in buying this Musick-Girl; 'twas he that managed the whole Intrigue, and 'tis nothing but Justice to reward him, that it may be an Encouragement to others: In short, Eschine desires it too.  Mic. 
to Eschine Do you desireed too?  Esch. 
Yes, if you please, Sir.  Mic. 
Since 'tis so, come hither Syrus. Thou'rt free. Syrus knelt down, Micio lays his Hand on his Head, after that gives him a cuff on the Ear.  Syr. 
rising up. Generously done: A thousand thanks to ye all, and to you Mr. Demea.  Dem. 
I'm well satisfied. Esch. And I too.  Syr. 
I don't question it, Sir: But I wish hearty my Joy were more complete, that I might see my poor Spouse Phrygia to be made free too.  Dem. 
Troth she's a mighty good Woman.  Syr. 
And the first that gave Teat to your Grandson to day.  Dem. 
Faith, in good earnest, if she were the first, she deserves her Freedom against the World.  Mic. 
What? For that Service only?  Dem. 
Yes, for that: In fine, I'll pay for her Freedom.  Syr. 
God's blessing light upon your Worship, and grant all your wishes.  Mic. 
Syrus, thou hast made a good days work on't.  Dem. 
Besides, Brother, 'twould be a Deed of Charity to lend him a little Money beforehand to begin the World withal: I'll engage he'll soon pay it again.  Mic. 
Not a sauce.  Esch. 
He's a very honest Fellow, Sir.  Syr. 
Upo' my word I'll pay ye again: Do but trust me.  Esch. 
Pray do, Sir.  Mic. 
I'll consider on't first,  Dem. 
He shall pay ye.  Syr. 
to Demea. E'dad you're the best Man alive.  Esch. 
And the pleasantest i'th' World.  Mic. 
What's the meaning of this Brother? How comes this change of Humour all of a sudden? What a Fit's here of Squandring and Profusion!  Dem. 
I'll tell ye.— That you may know, Brother, these Sons of yours don't reckon you a sweet-natured and pleasant Man, cause you live as you should, or do what is just and reasonable, but you fawn, cocker, and give 'em what they TWO spend. Now, Son Eschine, if you are dissatisfied at my course of Life, cause I would'nt follow your humour in all things right or wrong; I'll not trouble my Head any further, squander, buy Misses, and do what you will. But if you would ha' me inform ye, and set ye right, and upon occasion serve ye too, in some things which by reason of your Youth you understand but little, are over fond of, and done't much consider of, see here I'm ready to do't for you.  Esch. 
Dear Sir, we commit ourselves wholly to your disposal; for you know what's fitting to be done far better than we.— But what will ye do in my Brother's business?  Dem. 
Well: Let him take the Musick-Girl; and so bid adieu to Wenching.  Esch. 
That's very reasonable. To the Spectators.  
Gentlemen, Your Favour.  Exeunt Omnes.  
The End of the Brothers.   

THE Tricks of Phormio.  
A COMEDY, Acted at the Roman Sports, WHEN L. Posthumius Albinus and L. Cornelius Merula, were Curule Edil's, By the Company of L Ambivius Turpio, and L. Attilius of Preneste,  
Flaccus made free by Claudius, Composed the Music, which was performed on Unequal FLUTES.  
It was taken from the GREEK of Apollodorus, call▪ d Epidicazomenos, and Acted four times,  
Under the Consulship of C. Fannius and M. Valerius.  
A. V C. 592. Before Christ 159.   

Dramatis Personae.  

MEN.  
Demipho, A rich old Citizen of Athens, somewhat Covetous, Mistrustful and Peevish.  
Chremes, Demipho' s Brother, another Citizen of Athens, an old Uxorious, Wife ridden Gentleman, and one who in his younger days loved a Girl in a Corner.  
Antipho, Demipho' s Son, a Good-natured, Modest, Well bred young Gentleman; very fond of Phanie his Wife.  
Phedrie, Chremes ' s Son, an amorous Gentile Spark of the Town, passionately in Love with a Masick-Girl.  
Phormio, The Parasite, a bold, cheating, subtle, intriguing Fellow, and one of singular Impudence.  
Geta, Servant to Antipho, an ingenious, designing, plotting Fellow, true. o the Interests of Antipho, and his Cousin Phedrie.  
Davus, A Servant and intimate Friend of Geta's.  
Dorio, A Covetous, Ill-natured, peevish Villainous Bawd, Owner of Phedrie ' s Music Girl.  
Hegio, Cratine, Crito, Three foolish Advocates, Friends to Demipho.   

WOMEN.  
N●utistrata, Chremes ' s Wife, a haughty and Imperious Woman, a great Talker, always awing her Husband.  
Sophrona, Nurse to Phanie, an honest harmless old Woman.   

MUTES.  
Dorcio, A Servant of Demipho's.  
●havie, Married secretly to Antipho.  
Servants, Attendants, etc.   
Scene, ATHENS.  
TIME, about Six or Seven Hours.   

THE Tricks of Phormio.  

ACT I.  
SCENE, The Street before Demipho's Door. TIME, The Forenoon.  Davus alone, with a Bag of Money in his Hand. 
MY very good Friend and Countryman Geta, came to me easterday about the Arrears of a small parcel of Money he had left in my Hands formerl: he begged me to get it up; so I have, and am just carrying it to him. His young Master has picked up a Wife I hear: And this looks as if 'twere a Present for Mrs. Bride. What a confounded Custom 'tis for those who have but a very little, to be always feeding them that have abundance! All that this poor Fellow now, by starving himself, has bit by bit, with much ado, scraped together out of his pitiful Allowance, must go at one swoop, People never considering the pains it cost him the getting. And then poor Geta must be squeezed over again, to give her Ladyship Joy of her Bantling: And after that again upon the Anniversary of the Brat's Nativity, when 'tis dedicated forsooth. The Child is the pretended Cause of all the Presents, but 'tis the Mother runs away with all— But isn't that Geta there?—  Enter Geta. Get. 
to them within. If a Redhaired Fellow should inquire for me.—  Dau. 
He's here, spare your breath.  Get. 
turning about. Ho, Davus! I was just coming to give ye the meeting.  Dau. 
Here, hold your Hand. Gives him the Bag. 'Tis all good and just what I owed ye.  Get. 
Thou art an honest Fellow, and 'twas kindly done not to forget me.  Dau. 
Kind indeed, as the World goes now, I'll assure ye: For 'tis come to that pass, that a Man must pray, and be thankful, to get his own again. But why so concerned?  Get. 
Who I?— If you did but know the dread and danger I'm in.  Dau. 
As how pray?  Get. 
You shall know upon promise of Secrecy.  Dau. 
Away Simpleton! What, trust me with thy Money, and afraid to trust me with a Secret? I should'nt get a Pin of my Sleeve by falsifying with thee now.  Get. 
Prithee hear me then.  Dau. 
Yes, with both Ears.  Get. 
You know, Mr. Chremes, our old Master's elder Brother, don't ye?  Dau. 
Very well.  Get. 
And his Son Phedrie too?  Dau. 
As well as I know thee.  Get. 
It so fell out, that the old Gentlemen took a Journey both together, Chremes to Lemno, and our good Man to Cilicia, where an old Crony of his had wheadled him over, Letter upon Letter, promising him whole Mountains of Gold, with the Devil and all.  Dau. 
What to him that had enough, and to spare already?  Get. 
Ne'er admire Man, 'tis his humour.  Dau. 
Pox of ill Luck! What pity 'tis I wasn't Grand Signior!  Get. 
When the old Gentlemen set out, they made me Tutor to their Sons.  Dau. 
Ah Geta, that was a hard task for thee.  Get. 
Troth so I found it by woeful Experience: I remember my unlucky Genius bore very hard upon me that day. At first I began to be strict with them: But what need many words? My faithfulness to my old Masters cost me many a sore drubbing.  Dau. 
I thought as much: For what a madness is it to strive against the stream?  Get. 
Upo' that I let go the Reins, and contented myself to drive as they'd ha' me.  Dau. 
You knew how to make your own Markets.  Get. 
As for our Youngster, he was very regular for a while: But Mr. Phedrie immediately picked up his Musick-Girl, and fell up to the Ears in Love. She was kept, it seems, by a damnable griping Cock-bawd.— The old Gentlemen had taken care to keep the young men's Pockets at Low-water: So that our amorous Spark could do nothing but look Babies in his Mistress' Eyes, follow her upo' th' Scent, and perhaps lead her to the Musick-School and back again. I and my young Master having little else to do, must needs bear the Spark company. Right against the School was a Barber's Shop, there did we commonly stay her coming out. One day while we were dancing Attendance, in comes a young Fellow snivelling at such a rate, as made ●● all wonder, and ask him, What he alled? Why (said he) never till now did I take Poverty for such a sad grievous Burden: Hard by I ve just been seeing a poor Girl, crying and taking on most heavily for the Death of her Mother, by whose dead Body she was then sitting. She had neither Friends, Acquaintance, nor Relation, besides one poor old Woman, to stand by her, or look after the Funeral. It grieved me to the very Soul, for she was an extraordinary Beauty. In short, we were all set agog at the Story. Mr. Antipho presently cried, Shall we go and see her? Ay, ay, says▪ another, Let's go, prithee honest Man bring us to the place. Away we go, come to her, see her: A pretty Rogue i'faith she was: And what's more, she had nothing of Ornament to set off her beauty: Her Hair all about her Ears, her Feet bare, all out of order, her Cheeks blubbered, and dressed in such a pickle, that if she hadn't been lovely to a Miracle, these Circumstances would have made her very disagreeable. The Spark that was enamoured with the Music-girl only said, She's well enough; but ours,—  Dau. 
interrupting Was smitten, I warrant.  Get. 
Can ye guests how deeply?— But now pray observe what came on't. The very next day he goes right to the old Woman, and very fairly begs her leave for a Night's Lodging; which she as fairly denied him, telling him, That his pretensions were unreasonable, that the Girl was a Citizen's Daughter, well-bred, and of a good Family; that if he would take her for better for worse, he had the Law to bear him out in't; but if not, she had no more to say to him. This put my Gentleman to a sad Nonplus▪ Mary her he would with all his Heart, but was afraid of the old Gentleman abroad.  Dau. 
Wou'dned his Father have allowed on't, think ye, when he came back?  Get. 
What? to have married a Girl, who had neither Fortune nor Honour? Not whilst his Eyes were open.  Dau. 
Well, and what came on't at last?  Get. 
What?— Why a certain wheadling Rascal, Phormio by Name, an audacious Fellow, would the Devil had him for me.  Dau. 
What of him prithee?  Get. 
He put this damned Project into the young Man 〈◊〉 ●ead I'm just about to tell ye— You know 'tis the Law here, that all Orphan-Girls must be married to the next of Kin, and the same Law 〈◊〉 the next of kin to marry them. Now, says he, I'll say you are the Girl's Kinsman, and commence ● S●● against ye, pretending to be a Friend of her Father 〈◊〉 and bring it to a Trial; as for who was her 〈◊〉 who her Mother, and how you came to be her 〈◊〉 let me alone for forging all, to the best advantage too. When you disprove none of all this, I shall 〈◊〉 ye. When your Father comes home, he'll be for t●●●●●ing o●me: But what care I? the Girl will be 〈◊〉 own.  Dau. 
A very pretty piece of Roguery in troth!  Get. 
Antipho was persuaded, the Business done, the Cause try'd, we Cast, and he Married.  Dau. 
What's that you tell me?  Get. 
'tis even as I say.  Dau. 
Ah poor Geta, what will become of thee then?  Get. 
Faith I can't tell; only thus much I know, that fall back, fall edge, we must bear it.  Dau. 
Now I like ye: Spoken like a Philosopher!  Get. 
I've not hopes but in this Inventing-Noddle of my own.  Dau. 
I commend thee.  Get. 
Should I go now and fee some petry Friend to plead for me thus! Good, Sir, pardon him this once, but if he ever does the like again, I'll not open my Mouth for him. 'Twere well if he didn't add, But when I am gone; Hang him Dog  Dau. 
But now for this Musick-Wench's Gentleman-Usher, how he comes off?  Get. 
Poorly enough, Jove knows.  Dau. 
I warrant he has but little of the Ready to bestow on her.  Get. 
Not a Souse: Only fine Words and gay Promises.  Dau. 
Is his Father come home or no?  Get. 
Not yet.  Dau. 
When d'ye look for your old Gentleman?  Get. 
I can't tell positively; but I hear there s●a Letter from him at the Customhouse, that came up by the Packet-Boat: I am just stepping for't.  Dau. 
D'ye want any thing else with me, Geta?  Get. 
Nothing, but good bye t'ye. Exit Davus  Geta alone. 
To them within. Soho Sirrah!— What's there no body at home? Enter a Footboy. ●ere take this, and carry it to Dorcio. Gives him the Money. Exeunt severally.  
The End of the First Act.   

ACT II.  Antipho and Phedrie. Ant. 
entering. BUT Phedrie, is it come to that pass now, that I should be afraid of my own Father, when I think of his returns and a Father that loves me so! If I had not been a rash Blockhead, I might have expected his coming home as became me.  Phe. 
What d'ye mean by all this?  Ant. 
A pretty question! When you yourself were my chiefest Confident in this mad Prank. Well, I could wish Phormio's Tongue had been out before he had given me such Counsel, and pressed my willing Mind on to what has been the Foundation of all my Miseries. If I hadn't enjoyed her at all, it might ha' made me melancholy for three or four days or so; but then I should'nt have had this perpetual vexation upon me,—  Phe. 
I give ye the hearing  Ant. 
— Whilst I am in hourly expectations o'my Father's sudden return, who will pluck me from her Embraces.  Phe. 
Others are grieved for want of Enjoyment, but you for being glutted with it. The God of Love has been too too liberal to ye, Cousin: For my part, yours is a Life I'd as soon wish for, and desire, as any whatever. I should thank the Gods did they bless me with so long a Banquet of Love as 've been blessed withal, and would be content to die the next moment. Pray consider with yourself what trouble I endure by being debarred from the thing I love, and what comfort you might take in your plentiful Enjoyment. I'll say nothing of your having got a civil well-bred Women without any charge, and of your being married to your own liking, to a Person of an unspotted Reputation. 'Tis manifest you're happy, and only want a Mind that can tell when things are well. Had you to do with a Bawd as I have, you'd feel how 'tis then. But 'tis the humour of us all, never to be contented.  Ant. 
But 'tis you yourself, Cousin, that are the happy Man in my Opinion, who have Power to consult at large, whether you had best keep her, love her still or leave her: But I've brought myself into such an unhappy strait, that I neither know how to quit mine, nor keep her.  
Enter Geta at a distance in great haste.  Ant. 
in a surprise. But what's the Matter now? Isn't that Geta in such haste?— 'Tis he for certain.— Alas! my poor Heart forbodes that he's the Messenger of some bad News or other.  Get 
to himself. Introth, Geta, thou'rt a dead Man, if thou dost not find some cunning shift or other to save thyself, and that quickly too, so many Misfortunes are ready to seize thee, before thou●rt prepared for 'em. I can neither tell how to escape 'em, nor how to get rid of them. Our Fool-hardiness can never be concealed any longer. If my Noddle doesned befriend us at this pinch, either I or my poor Master must smart for't.  Ant. 
What makes him in such a Chafe trow?  Get. 
to himself. Then I've but a Minute's time for Projection: My old Master's upon our Backs.  Ant. 
What ill Luck is come to Town now?  Get 
to himself. When he comes to hear on't, how is't possible to pache him? If I speak, he'll be Choleric; say nothing, 'twill fret him; and for excusing myself I had as good talk to the Wind.— Poor Geta! Alas for thee!— Then besides my own trouble, Mr. Antipho is a great vexation to my Spirits: 'Tis him I pity, and am now so much concerned for: 'Tis he that keeps me here; else I'd ha' made a shift for one well enough, and been revenged of the old Man's peevish Temper: I'd ha' fingered away something, and shown him a fair pair of Heels for't.  Ant. 
partly hearing. What Fingering and Heels is the Fellow talking of?  Get. 
to himself. But where shall I find my Master Antipho? Or where shall I go look him?  Phe. 
to Antipho. He names you, Cousin.  Ant. 
I expect to hear of some shrewd Misfortune by this Messenger.  Phe. 
Pho! Are ye out o' your Wits?  Get. 
to himself. I'll even get me home; ten to one but he's there. [Going off.  Phe. 
to Antipho. Let's call him back.  Ant. 
You, Sir, stay.  Get. 
not knowing him. You take upon ye sufficiently, whoever you are.  Ant. 
Geta, I say!  Get. 
turning about. Od's me, 'tis the very Man I wanted.  Ant. 
Prithee what's the News? Dispatch it in a word if ye can.  Get. 
I will so.  Ant. 
Out with it quick.  Get. 
Just now at the Waterside I saw—  Ant. 
My Father?  Get. 
've hit it.  Ant. 
Then I'm a dead Man.  Phe. 
'Sdeath!  Ant. 
Prithee what shall I do?  Phe. 
to Geta. How's this?  Get. 
I tell ye I saw his Father, your Uncle.  Ant. 
What course shall I take to help me out in this sudden Misfortune? Ah! Should my unlucky  Get. 
Ti●●● 〈◊〉 since things 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 are, you ought 〈◊〉 the more upon your Gu●●●● 〈◊〉 Terfaint 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 fair Lady.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Get. 
But considering your present Circumstances, 've great reason to be otherwise; for if you●● Fame, sees ye once down i'th' mouth, he'll conclude you are guilty of all.  Phe. 
He's i'th' right on't.  Ant. 
I can't change my Nature.  Get. 
Suppose you were put to a worse straight.  Ant. 
Why, not being able to do this, I should ne'er do that.  Get. 
Pshaw! He's good for nothing, Mr. Phedrie: Condemned already: Why should we stand trifling away our time with him? I'll even be jogging.  Phe. 
And so will I too. They are going off.  Ant. 
Prithee, Geta!— Suppose I look thus?— He tries to look pleasantly. Is this well?  Get. 
Not worth a Farthing.  Ant. 
Do but look on me now. Here he makes  
What d'ye think o''is? grimaces a good while, at last composes his Countenance.  Get. 
No.  Ant. 
What say ye to't now?  Get. 
Somewhat thereabouts.  Ant. 
Will this?  Get. 
That will do't— Keep ye there: Besure you answer him Word for Word, and let not his nussing and hectoring dash you out o'Countenance.  Ant. 
Well enough.  Get. 
Say you were forced to't by the Law, and the Rules of Court; d'ye mark me.— He looks to one corner of the Stage. But what old Man's yonder, at the further end o'th' Street?  Ant. 
peeping. 'Tis my Father, I ain't able ●● stand my ground. going off.  Get. 
What ha'ye a mind to do, Sir? Wither so fast? Stay, stay, I say.  Ant. 
I know my own frailty, and fault too well: I give up my Phanie, and my Life into your hands. Exit Antipho.  Phe. 
Prithee, Geta, what shall we do now?  Get. 
Why, you must expect a rattling, but poor Geta (if my Stars don't deceive me) will be trussed up to rights. Troth, I think we must even follow the same Advice we gave to Mr. Antipho.  Phe. 
Hang your Must! What you'd ha' me do, command me freely.  Get. 
Don't ye remember, when we began this Enterprise first, how ye agreed to manage it? That their Plea was just, fair, sure; in fine, the clearest Case in the World.  Phe. 
I do.  Get. 
Why this you must make use of: If you can think of a better or a sinner, take it.  Phe. 
I'll do what I can.  Get. 
Do you give the first onset, I'll lie in ambush as a reserve for ye when you begin to give ground.  Phe. 
Well enough.  
Enter Demipho at a distance.  
Phedrie and Geta move on one side, observing him.  Dem. 
to himself.— Is't come to that then?  
My Son Antipho marry without my consent? Sure a Father's Authority.— But why did I name Authority? Methinks the fear of my Displeasure might ha' created some Respect; what has he no shame in him? O impundent wickedness! And that Hang-dog Geta, the Tutor too.—  Get. 
aside to Phedrie. So, I'm brought in for a snack.  Dem. 
to himself. Suppose they pretend, 'twas done against his Will, the Law soreed him to't. Well, I understand, I grant it.  Get. 
That's well enough.  Dem. 
to himself. But to give up his Cause so willingly, and without one word to the contrary, did the Law force him upon that too?  Phe. 
to Geta. That's a hard Chapter.  Get. 
to Phedrie. Let me alone to clear that.  Dem. 
to himself. I'm at a sad Nonplus, things have happened so contrary to my expectations and belief. Then my Passion runs away with me, so as I can't bring my mind to the common use of thinking. Wherhfore in a Calm we should be always sure to provide for a Storm: So he that comes home from a long Journey, aught to think of the Dangers, Losses and Banishment, that may befall him: He may find his Son debauched, his Wife dead, and his Daughter dangerously ill. All these are common Accidents, and should be no News to him, if they happen: But if things fall out better than he expected, he may look upon't as clear Gains.  Get. 
aside to Phedrie. Troth, Sir, you would'nt think how much wiser I am than this old Fox my Master. I've forecasted all my Misfortunes: Videlicet, When my Master comes home, I must expect to beat Hemp in Beidewell all the days of my Life, to be whipped and shackled, or sent to the Plough-tail. All this will be no News to me, if any thing happens better than I expect, I shall look upon't as clear Gains, introth.— But why don't you go to him, and sweeten him up a little.  
Phedrie moves towards Demipho.  Dem. 
seeing Phedrie. Yonder comes my Cousin Hedrie to meet me.  Phe. 
Dear Uncle your humble Servant.  Dem. 
I'm glad to see thee, Coz; but where's P●ripho?  Phe. 
You're welcome home, Sir.  Dem. 
I thank ye;— but pray answer my Question.  Phe. 
He's very well, Sir; within call.— But your Affairs, Sir, do they succeed to your desire?  Dem. 
sighing. I wish they did.  Phe. 
Why what's amiss, Sir?  Dem. 
Amiss, Phedrie? 've made a fine Match among ye in my absence, han't ye?  Phe. 
Oh, ho! Is't that you are so angry with him for?  Get. 
A rare Actor i'faith. Aside.  Dem. 
And han't I reason to be so? I wish in my Soul, I could but set my Eyes upon him, he should see what 'tis to provoke a good-natured Father  Phe. 
Indeed, Sir, he has done nothing to deserve your Anger.  Dem. 
Look ye here! They're all of a plece, hang all on a string; know one, know all. Angrily.  Phe. 
Not so neither, Sir.  Dem. 
Does one commit a Reguery, whip, th'. other's ready to bear him out in't. Does this do it? Then that's ready to plead for him: So they help one another by turns.  Get. 
The old Man has hit upon both of their Humours better than he's ware on. Aside.  Dem. 
If it wasn't a Bargain between ye, you would'nt take his part so much as you do.  Phe. 
Sir, if my Cousin Antipho had commit a fault to the prejudice either of his Honour a Estate, I d sooner die than plead for him, but should leave him to suffer the just demerit of ●● Crimes. But o'th' other hand, if some Chea, emboldened in his Knaveries, should lay his Snares t' entrap unwary Youth, and should compass his designs, is the fault ours, or the Judges? Who ●● through Envy take from the Rich their Right, and for pity give it to the Poor.  Get. 
Weren't I privy to this whole Affair, I should think what he says to be as true as an Oracle. Aside.  Dem. 
Can any Judge ' th' World know a Man's Right, when he stands like a Post as he did?  Phe. 
He did like a modest Gentleman: For when he came in the open Court, Fear and Modesty so surprised him, that he couldn't utter a word of what he had premeditated.  Get: 
aside. An Orator i'faith!— But why done't I go and have a touch also with the old Mumpsimus.— Goes to Demipho. Dear Master, your humble Servant, welcome home with all my Heart.  Dem. 
Ho! Mr. Governor! The very prop of our Family! The Trustee o'er my Son in my absence! I'm yours too. Jecringly.  Get. 
I hear, Sir, you're pleased to blame us all▪ undeservedly, and me too that deserve it least of all: For what would ye had me ha' done i'th' case, when you know, Sir, the Law won't admit a Slave to plead or be a Witness?  Dem. 
Pish! I grant all this; and more, than that I own the Boy was bashful, and you a Slave. But let her be never so much akin, there was no necessity for his having her: the Law only obliges him to give her a Portion, and let her look out for another Husband. Your reason pray, why he rather chose to marry a Beggar Wench?  Get. 
Nay 'twasn't Reason, but Money that was wanting.  Dem. 
He might have borrowed it any where.  Get. 
Any where, say ye? Sooner said than done.  Dem. 
Rather than fail he should have taken it up on Interest.  Get. 
Ho, bravely spoken! As tho' any one would have trusted him while you are alive.  Dem. 
Well 〈◊〉 It shall never go thus, it must not be. Shall I sister 'em to live together one day to an end? No, I would'nt do't for the World.— but I'd fain that this palsy Rascal brought before me, or else direct me where he lives.  Get. 
You mean Phormio, Sir, don't ye?  Dem. 
Yes, the Woman's great Spokesman.  Get. 
I'll fetch him so ye presently.  Dem. 
But where's Antipho now?  Phe. 
Gone out, Sir.  Dem. 
Good Coz, do so much as seek him out for me, and bring him hither.  Phe. 
I'm going to rights. Exit Phedrie.  Get. 
To his Mistress he means. Aside.  
Exit Geta another way.  Demipho alone. 
I'll just step in and return my Thanks for my safe arrival; from thence I'll to the Piazza, and call some Friends to stand by me in this business, that I mayn't be unprovided when Phormio comes.  Exit. 
The End of the Second Act.   

ACT III.  Phormio and Geta. Phor. 
entering. HOW! Mr. Antipho play at Bopeep for fear of his Father, say ye?  Get. 
Very true.  Phor. 
So: Then poor Phany's left in the Lurch?  Get. 
Even so.  Phor. 
And the old Man's upo' th' fret?  Get. 
Yes, indeed.  Phor. 
to himself So then! the burden lies all upon thy shoulders, poor Phormio. Thou must take what comes on't, and even brew as thou hast bak'd.— To work then, old Boy.  Get. 
Prithee about it then.  Phor. 
not minding Geta. Suppose he should ask me.—  Get. 
'Tis you we only trust to.  Phor. 
studying That's right.— What if he should reply?—  Get. 
'Twas you put us upon't.  Phor. 
still in a study.— Ay, that will do.  Get. 
pulling by the Sleeve Prithee help us out then.  Phor. 
turning quick to Geta. Prithee, trail the old Fox hither: I've all my Traps ready laid for him.  Get. 
What design are ye upon now?  Phor. 
What would ye have me, but to let Phanie be his Wife still, clear Mr. Antipho of all, and turn the whole stream o' th' old Man's Rage upon myself?  Get. 
Spoken like a courageous Man, and a true Friend! But i'faith, honest Phormio, I'm afraid this Lion's Heart of yours will bring that pretty Face to look through a Pillory at the last.  Phor. 
Pshaw! Never fear that; I ain't to learn my Trade now; I know where to take sure footing. How many Men d'ye think I have in my time beat, and left for dead, Townsmen as well as Strangers? The oftener I exercised my Hand, the more Skill I had. And pray when did ye ever hear of an Action of Battery clapped upon my Back?  Get. 
How comes that about?  Phor. 
Pho! your Fowlers never aim at a Hawk or Kite that do mischief; but 'tis your harmless Birds they are for. In one there's Profit, in the other only Powder and Shot thrown away. Just so they who have any thing to lose are in the most danger: 'Tis well known I've nothing to lose but my Skin. You'll say perhaps, They might seize my Person: They'd be hanged before they'd maintain such a devouring Glutton, as I am. And troth, I fancy they are i'th' right on't, not to do me such an excellent good turn for a bad one.  Get. 
Faith, my young Master will not be able to make ye amends for this kindness.  Phor. 
'Tis we Vassals owe more than our Lives are worth for the Favours of our Princes. Isn't a rare thing to feast it at free-cost, to perfume and bathe one's self, to have no trouble upon your Spirit, whilst another ●ear● the Trouble and Charge of all? For you to have all things to your liking, to laugh and take your pleasure, whilst he 〈◊〉 himself; to be honoured with the first Cup, and set at the upper end of the Table, to eat of the puzzling Banquet!  Get. 
What d'ye mean by the Word puzzling?  Phor. 
When there's such a Plenty as would puzzle ye which Dish to choose first, ye little Rogue: And considering how delicious and costly all these Blessings are: How can ye call the Founder of 'em less than a God on Earth?  
Enter Demipho at a distance with Hegio, Cratine and Crito.  Get. 
Our old Gentleman's just upon us: Mind your hits, the first Onset will be the bloodiest of all: If you can bear the brunt of that, you may manage him as you please afterwards.  Dem. 
to his Followers. Hark ye, my Friends, was ever Man treated at such a contemptuous rate as I?— Your Opinion, Gentlemen.  Get. 
The Man's in wrath.  Phor. 
softly. Hold your Tongue; Is't!— I'll rouse him, I ll warrant ye. Very loud. O wonderful! Does Demipho deny Phanie to be his Kinswoman? Heavens bless us!— What, deny his own Kindred?  Get. 
He does, what then?  Dem. 
I think yonder's our Antagonist.— Keep those Neighbours.  Phor. 
aloud. Doesned he know who her Father was?  Get. 
No.  Phor. 
Nor yet Stilpho neither?  Get. 
No marry doesned he.  Phor. 
aloud. Ay, because she had nothing left her, her Father's disowned, and she slighted. See what it is to be a covetous old Hunks.  Get. 
You'd better be hanged ye Dog, than call my Master covetous. Seeming in a passion.  Dem 
overhearing. Abominable Impudence! What is he come to call Whore first?  Phor. 
aloud. Now I can't blame the young Gentleman indeed, for not knowing Stilpho, 'cause he was an old poor Man, that lived by his Labour, and was for the most part i'th' Country, where he hired a small piece of Ground o' my Father: The poor old Man has oft complained to me how basely Demipho his Kinsman had slighted him; but what a Man did he slight thus? Why one of the honestest Men that ever wore a Head.  Get. 
See that he and you prove as good as ye pretend.  Phor. 
You be hanged: If I hadn't found him to be as I say, I would never have engaged our Family in such terrible feuds upon her account, who is now so ungenteely slighted by your Master.  Get. 
What, still abuse my Master behind his back? Ye foul mouthed Varlet.  Phor. 
'Tis no more than he deserves.  Get. 
Say ye so, Jail-bird? Vnbottons his Collar, and clenches his Fist at him.  Dem 
coming nigher. Geta!  Get. 
not minding Demipho Abominable Thief! Damnable Che●●●  Phor. 
softly to Geta. Prithee give him an Answer.  Get. 
turning about. Who's that calls?— Oh, Sir—  Dem. 
Don't Quarrel.  Get. 
This Vari●t has been laying such base things to your Worship's Charge, that none but this Scoundrel would ●a been guilty of.  Dem. 
Well, say no more on't— To Phormio But, hark ye, young Man, by your good leave I'd ask ye one civil Question, if you please to give an Answer to't. Pray who was this Friend of yours that you were talking of? Tell me plainly, and how near did he say he was related to me?  Phor. 
You are for pumping, as tho' you didn't know him.  Dem. 
I know him?  Phor. 
Most certainly.  Dem. 
I deny't, you that affirm it, prove it, and rub up my Memory.  Phor. 
I warrant you don't know one of your own Flesh and Blood.  Dem. 
You make me stark mad: Can't ye tell me his Name?  Phor. 
His Name? with all my heart. Studies.  Dem. 
Why don't ye out with't then?  Phor. 
Pox on't, 'tis slipped out of my Head. Softly to Geta.  Dem. 
Ha! What's that you mutter?  Phor. 
softly to Geta. If you remember the Name we mentioned just now, prithee prompt me.— Aloud to Demipho Ha', ha', he,— You shall have none of the Name for me, as if you didn't know it already: You're upo'th catch I find Here Phormio laughs, and speaks as loud as he can, that Geta may tell him the Name, and Demipho not hear●t.  Dem. 
I scorn your Words.  Get. 
softly to Phermio. Stilpho, Stilpho.  Phor. 
The Name, Ha'— ha'— he— But what care I? The Name's Stilpho.  Dem. 
Who, say ye?  Phor. 
I say Stilpho; as if you didn't know him.  Dem. 
I ll take my Corporal Oath I know no such Man, nor was I ever akin to any of that Name.  Phor. 
Is't possible? Arned you ashamed to say so? Had he left you a sousing Sum of Money—  Dem. 
The Devil take ye.  Phor. 
— You'd ha' been the first that should ha' traced him, and his Pedigree, from the Conqueror.  Dem. 
Well, be it so: If I had undertaken it, I must have made it out, which way she was my Kinswoman: Therefore prithee do you the same: Tell me which way she's related to me.  Get. 
Faith well urged, Sir— Aside to Phormio Look to yourself, my Friend.  Phor. 
I made it out as clear as the Sun in open Court, where 'twas to be done: If 'twere Forgery, why didn't your Son make it appear to be so?  Dem. 
Tell not me of my Son; he behaved himself worse than a Changeling.  Phor. 
But you, Sir, that are so wondrous wise, may go into Court, and procure a second Hearing o'th' same Cause, since you play Rex here, and take upon ye the sole Prerogative of having the same Cause tried twice over.  Dem. 
Tho' I've been much abused in this business, yet rather than be plagued with Law-Suits, and your impertinent Tongue, let her go for my Kinswoman, I'll give her a Portion as the Law requires— Here, take half a score Pieces, and away with her. Offers him Money.  Phor. 
Ha'— ha'— he—: A very pleasant Man i'faith!  Dem. 
What would the Man have, don't I offer very fair? Can't I claim the Privilege of the Common Law?  Phor. 
Is it so, sweet Sir? When 've made use of a Citizen's Daughter, does the Law allow ye to give her a Whores Pay, and send her packing? Or doesned it rather require she should be married to the next of Kin, and keep to one Man, lest want should make her do that which might be a Scandal to her Quality? And you are against that, are ye?  Dem. 
Ay, ay, to the next of Kin: But what is she akin to us? Or how pray?  Phor. 
Enough, enough: We needned try it over again.  Dem. 
I don't design it; but I shall push hard till I've made an end on't,  Phor. 
You'd as good catch Butterflies.  Dem. 
I say, I will do't.  Phor. 
Besides, Sir, 'tis none of your Concern: 'Tis your Son is cast, and not you: Your Dancing days were over long ago.  Dem. 
Then you may suppose 'tis he that says all this to ye; if not, I'll turn him and his Trull out of Doors.  Get. 
Now his Back's up. Aside.  Phor. 
You'd be twice advised first.  Dem. 
You unlucky Dog, are ye resolved to do me all the mischief you're able?  Phor. 
He's damnably afraid, though he does all he can to conceal it. Aside to Geta.  Get. 
to Phormio. Your design succeeds rarely.  Phor. 
What? Can't ye endure with patience what can't be cured! Come, do like a Gentleman, that there may be a lasting Friendship between us. Jeering.  Dem. 
Pish! Do I care a Fig for your Friendship? Or desire to see, or be acquainted with such a Rascal?  Phor. 
If you two can agree upon't, you'll have a Comfortress in your old Age: Pray consider what time a day 'tis with ye.  Dem. 
Pox, let her comfort thee; take her and the Devil to boot.  Phor. 
Good Sir, moderate your Passion. Jeering.  Dem. 
Mark this then, without any more ado: If you don't make all the haste you can, and take away your Jilt, I'll thrust her out by Head and Shoulders: That's the Word for all, Mr. Knave.  Phor. 
If ye o●●er her the least Affront unworthy her Quality, I'll clap a swinging Action upon your back: That's the Word for all, Mr. Alderman!— Hark ye, if the want me, you'll find me at home. Aside to Geta.  Get. 
softly to Phormio. Well enough.  Exit Phormio. Dem. 
What a World of Care and Vexation has my Son brought me into, by entangling himself, as well as me, in this unlucky Match!— Then I can't get one glimpse of him, to know what he can say, or how he stands affected.— Run in, Geta, and see whether he be come home or no.  Get. 
I will, Sir.  Exit Geta. Dem. 
You see, Gentlemen, how the case stands; What had I best to do? Your Advice, Mr Counsellor. To Hegio.  Heg. 
Meaning me, Sir?— I think Mr. Cratine's the fittest Man to speak first, if you please.  Dem. 
Come on then, Mr. Cratine.  Cra. 
Who I, Sir?  Dem. 
Yes you, Sir.  Cra. 
I'd willingly advise ye for the best; I am of Opinion, Sir, that what your Son did in your absence, should, in Right and Reason, be nulled and void ipso facto; and the Law will allow it. Dixi.  Dem. 
Now for you, Mr Hogio.  Heg. 
I believe Mr. Cratine spoke as he thought; but as the saying is, So many Men, so many Minds, every one as they like. In my Opinion, what the Law has once determined shou'dned be cancelled, and 'twould be a Scandal to offer at such a thing.  Dem. 
Now for your Opinion, Mr. Crito.  Cri. 
I desire time to consider on't; 'tis a weighty Affair.  Heg. 
Ha'●ye any further occasion for our Advice?  Dem. 
've made rare work on't i'saith.  
Exeunt Hegio, Cratine and Crito.  Dem. 
alone looking after 'em. So I'm more to seek now than ever.  
Enter Geta.  Get. 
They say, Sir, he isn't come back yet.  Dem. 
I'll even stay till my Brother comes home; what Advice he gives in this case, that I'll follow. I'll inquire at the Waterside when they expect him. Exit Demipho.  Geta alone. Get. 
And I'll go see for Mr. Antipho, and let him know how Squares go— But look yonder, he comes in Pudding-time.  
Enter Antipho at a distance.  Antony's 
to himself. In good troth, Antipho, thou and this faint Heart of thine are mightily to be blamed: What? run away, and leave thy very Life and Soul to the Management of Deputies? Couldst think they'd take more care of thy business than thyself? Let other Matters ha' gone how they would, the dear Creature at home ought to ha' been looked after, for fear the poor Soul, that has lodged all her Hopes and Fortunes in thy hands, should, for trusting to thy Promises, come to any mischief.  Get. 
goes up to him Faith, Sir, we were just praying hearty for ye, but the wrong way, because you slunk away and left us so fairly i'th' lurch.  Ant. 
'twas thee I wanted, Geta.  Get. 
— But for all that we didn't flinch an Ace.  Ant. 
Prithee tell me in what posture my Affairs stand, and what have I to trust to; does my Father know any thing of the main business?  Get. 
Not a bit.  Ant. 
Is there any hopes left then?  Get. 
Indeed I can't tell—  Ant. 
Dear heart!.  Get. 
But Mr. Phedrie pleaded like a Counsellor for ye.  Ant. 
He has been always very obliging.  Get. 
Then for Phormio, in this as in all other things, he has behaved himself like a Hero,  Ant. 
What did he do?  Get. 
He quite out-hectored your Father, as huffing as he was.  Ant. 
God-a-mercy Phormio, I faith.  Get. 
And I also did my best.  Antony's 
hugging him. Ah, honest Rogue! Faith I'm obliged to ye all.  Get. 
The first Encounter was just as I tell ye; at present Matters go on very smoothly; your Father, it seems, will let things rest till your Uncle comes home.  Ant. 
Why till then?  Get. 
He says he'll be advised by him in this business.  Ant. 
Ah Geta! How I dread his coming home, since I understand 'tis his Sentence alone I must stand or fall by.  Get. 
Look, yonder's your Cousin Phedrie.  Ant. 
Where?  Get. 
Look ye! He's just coming out piping hot from his old Sweating-House.  
Enter Phedrie and Dorio; Antipho and Geta move on one side and observe them.  Phe. 
Nay, good Dorio, hear me.  Dor. 
The Devil I will.  Phe. 
But one word  Dor. 
Pox! done't tease me so.  Phe. 
Do but hear what I've to say.  Dor. 
I'm sick with hearing the same thing a thousand times over.  Phe. 
But I ha' something to offer, that you'll be glad to hear of.  Dor. 
Well, let's hear it then.  Phe. 
Is't impossible for me to prevail upon ye, to stay but three short days?— Dorio is going off, and Phedrie holds him Wither so fast pray?  Dor. 
I'd ha' scored it up for a Wonder, if you had made me any new offer.  Antony's 
to Geta. Alas, I'm horribly afraid the Bawd is working himself no good.  Goe, 
to Antipho. And so am I too.  Phe. 
You won't believe me then.  Dor 
That's we● guessed.  Phe. 
Suppose I pass my Word?  Dor. 
Mere Stuff!  Phe. 
You'd say 'twas one of the best days work ye ere made in your Life.  Dor. 
Idle Stories.  Phe. 
Do but trust me, and you shan't repent it; you'll find it to be as I say.  Dor. 
Silly Fancies!  Phe. 
Good now try me, the time isn't so long.  Dor. 
Cuckoo— Cuckoo.  Phe. 
You are my Relation, you are my Father, you are my Friend, you.—  Dor. 
interrupting. Tattle on, tattle on.  Phe. 
Are ye of such a barbarous and inflexible Nature, that neither Pity nor Entreaties can mollify ye?  Dor. 
And are you, Sir, so senseless and shameless, as to think your gay Words, and fine flourishes, shall chouse me out of what's my own for nothing?  Ant. 
to Geta. Troth I'm sorry for him.  Phe. 
Alas! I am convinced he's i'th' right on't. Aside.  Get. 
to Antipho. I think they both come up each to his proper Character.  Phe. 
And must this Misfortune needs light upo' me in a time when my Cousin Antipho is in the very same trouble himself?  Antipho and Geta go up to them. Ant. 
to Phedrie. Ha! Cousin, what's the Matter?  Phe. 
turning to him. My Cousin Antipho's the happiest Man alive.  Ant. 
Who I?  Phe. 
In having what you love in your own Custody; not tormented like me, with such a Villain as this.  Ant. 
In my Custody say ye?— Ay, indeed, I have, as the saying is, A Wolf by the Ears: How to part from her I know not, and how to keep her I can't tell.  Dor. 
My very Case, by the Mackins.  Ant. 
to Dorio. Courage Man, don't play the Bawd by halves.— To Phedrie. But prithee what has he done?  Phe. 
That Rascal?— Why, like a hardhearted wretch as he is, he has gone and sold my dearest Pamphila.  Get. 
How! Sold her?  Ant. 
Sold her, say ye?  Phe. 
He has so.  Dor. 
A mighty business indeed, for a Man to make Money of his own Wares!  Phe. 
I can't prevail upon him to stay but three days for me, and break off the Bargain with him, till such time as I shall receive the Money my Friends promised to lend me.— To Dorio. If I don't pay it ye then, you shan't stay a minute longer for me  Dor. 
You'll crack my Brainpan presently.  Ant. 
He desires but a very little time, Dorio; Prithee bened so hardhearted. The favour shall be requited to you double, take my Word for't.  Dor. 
Mere sham's!  Ant. 
to Phedrie. Can you suffer your Mistress to be Ravished from this pleasant Town?— To Dorio. And can you ha' the heart to part such fervent Lovers?  Dor. 
That's neither my Fault, nor yours.  Get. 
A plague on thee for a Rascal. Aside.  Dor. 
Look ye; many a month have I born with you against the grain; you ' ye brought me nothing but Court Promises, Crocodile's Tears, and a Beggar's Purse: Now on the other hand, I've got me a Chapman that will pay me freely without snivelling. Therefore, Sir, cede majoribus, I say.  Ant. 
In good earnest, as I remember there was a day set for my Cousin to have her.  Phe. 
There was so.  Dor. 
Do I deny't?  Ant. 
Is that day passed then?  Dor. 
No, but another's day came before it.  Ant. 
Arned ye ashamed of your Knavery?  Dor. 
Not as long as I can get by't.  Get. 
Sordid Villain!  Phe. Dorio, 
Is that your conscience now?  Dor. 
'Tis so; if you like me, make use o'me.  Ant. 
Why should you cheat him thus?  Dor. 
Rather I faith, Mr. Antipho, 'tis he cheats me; he knew well enough what I was, but I took him for another sort of a Gentleman; so that he has deceived me: I am just for all the World as I used to be. But let that pass; thus much I'll do. To morrow Morning the Captain says he'll bring me the Money: Now, Mr. Phedrie, if you'll bring it first, I ll follow my own Rule, First come, first served; and so good bye t'ye.  Phe. 
What shall I do now?— Where shall poor I now, that am worse than nothing, scrape up such a Sum at so short a warning?— If I could but ha' got him to have stayed three days, the Money was promised me by that time. Walks to and fro dejectedly.  Antony's 
to Geta What, shall we leave our Friend in such a miserable case, who but just now, as you told me, pleaded my Cause so handsomely? Shan't we requite his Courtesy in time of need?  Get. 
'Tis but right and reason we should, I confess.  Ant. 
Come on then; you are the Man that can keep his Head above Water.  Get. 
What would ye ha' me do?  Ant. 
Procure him the Money.  Get. 
That I would with all my heart; but where must I have it?  Ant. 
My Father's at home.  Get. 
That I know, but what then?  Ant. 
Po! A word to the Wise is enough.  Get. 
Is it so, Sir?  Ant. 
Yes, indeed.  Get. 
Very pretty Counsel I faith! You may do't yourself if you please; shan't I come off with flying Colours, if I scape with a whole Skin upo' your account? But I must needs venture my Neck upon his account too.  Ant. 
That's true I own.  Phe. 
What, Geta! Am I no body wi'ye then?  Get. 
Not so neither:— But is it nothing in your Esteem, that 've stirred up the old Gentleman's Anger against us all, unless we provoke him again beyond all hopes of Reconcilement?  Phe. 
Shall my Rival carry away my dearest beyond Sea, and I be the Spectator too?— Ah Cousin, speak with me while you may; take one farewel Look before I leave ye.  Ant. 
Why, Sir, what crotchet comes in your Head now? Prithee tell me.  Phe. 
I'll traverse Sea and Land after her, or perish in the Attempt; that I'm resolved on.  Get. 
A good Journey to ye, Sir; but soft and fair goes far.  Ant. 
Prithee, Geta, see if thou canst help him a little.  Get. 
Help him, pray how?  Ant. 
Good now try however, for fear he do what may make us both repent, more or less, hereafter.  Get. 
My Invention's upo'th ' tenterhooks.— Studies. He's out of danger, or I am mistaken; but still I'm afraid my poor Hide will smart for't.  Ant. 
Don't be afraid; we'll stand and fall with thee upon all accounts. ●  Get. 
to Phedrie. Well, how much Money d'ye want? Tell me.  Phe. 
Fourscore Guinea's or so: That's all.  Get. 
Fourscore Guineas? Whoop! Whoop! She's a plaguy dear bit, Mr. Phedrie.  Phe. 
No, she's an extraordinary Pennyworth.  Get. 
Come, no more; you shall ha' the Money.  Phe. 
hugging him Rare Rogue!  Get. 
Come let me alone.  Phe. 
I want it just now.  Phe. 
And you shall have it just now; but I shall want Phormio, to second me i'th' design.  Phe. 
to Geta Pray step, and desire him to be at home.  Ant. 
He's ready I warrant ye; lay what load you will upo' him he'll bear't. Hes the only Man of a thousand that's true to his Friend.  Get. 
Let's away to him, out of hand.  Ant. 
Can I do ye any kindness i' this Matter?  Get. 
None at all. Pray go and comfort the poor Creature at home, I know she's almost dead with fear— Why d'ye stay, Sir?  Ant. 
I know nothing I'd do with a more willing mind. Exit Antipho.  Phe. 
How will ye go to work in this business?  Get. 
I'll tell ye as we go along; therefore pray be moving. Exeunt Ambo.  
The End of the Third Act.   

ACT IU.  Demipho and Chremes. Dem 
●●●●ing.— WELL, ha'ye dispatched the Business you went about to Lemno, Brother? Have ye brought your Daughter along with ye?  Chr. 
No.  Dem. 
Why didn't ye?  Chr. 
After he, Mother saw I made a longer stay here than ordinary, and that the Girl's Age would not admit of my farther delays, she and her whole Family took Shipping, and (as I am informed) came hither in search after me.  Dem. 
When you heard of this, how came you to tarry so long behind 'em?  Chr. 
Alas! I was sick all the time.  Dem. 
How came that? Of what Distemper?  Chr. 
that's a Question! Above Threescore is Distemper sufficient— But the Master of the Ship that brought 'em over, told me, they are all landed safe.  Dem. 
But, Brother, ha' ye heard of the shrewd Misfortune that happened to my Son in my absence?  Chr. 
Ay truly; and 'tis that has broke the Neck of all my designs: For should I offer my Daughter in Marriage to a Stranger, I must tell the whole Story, how I came by her, and by whom; but you, I know, are as true to my Interest as I can be myself. A Stranger, that would be my Son-in-Law, would hold his Tongue, as long as we were good Friends together; but if he once disregarded me, he'll know more by half than I'd have him. Then I'm horribly afraid the business should come to my Wife's Ear; if it does, my only remedy will be to take up my Heels, and be marching: For to speak the Truth, I of the whole Family am the only Friend to myself.  Dem. 
I m sensible of it Brother, and 'tis a great trouble to me; but Ill leave no Stone unturned, till I've proved myself as good as my word. They walk aside.  
Enter Geta, at a great distance.  Get. 
to himself. I ne'er set my Eyes on a craftier Whores-bird than this Phormio in all my Life. I came to the Bastard to tell him that we wanted the Ready, and how we designed to angle for't; and I had scarce opened my Lips, but he knew my meaning by my gaping. He was tickled at the Fancy, clappd me upo' th' back for't, asked for the old Gentleman, and on his Marrowbones thanked the Gods a thousand times, for putting an opportunity into his hands of showing himself as much Mr. Phcdrie's, as he had been Mr Antipho's Friend. I bid him wait for me at the Piazza, where I'd bring the old Cully to him.— see Demipho. Look there he is!— But who's that looking or his Left-shoulder?— O the Devil! Mr. Phedries Father? Pish! What a Brute am I to be afraid of that? Is't cause thou hast caught two Woodcocks I thy Spring instead of one!— I'm sure 'tis safest to have two Strings to one's Bow.— Ill try to get it of him I 〈◊〉 designed; if he answers my expectation, well: If not, then have at the New-comer.  
Enter Antipho at another part of the ●●●ge, observing the rest.  Ant. 
to himself. I look every minute for this Geta's coming back.— Ha! Yonder's my Uncle wi' my Father, laying their Heads together 'Sdeath! How I dread what Designs his coming will put my Father upon!  Get. 
aside. Ill go to them.— goes to that part of the Stage where Demipho and Chremes are. What my Master Chremes?  Chr. 
Honest Geta, how is't?  Get. 
You're hearty welcome home, Sir.  Chr. 
I thank ye.  Get. 
How goes the World with you, Sir?  Chr. 
Much at one, upon my arrival here I find a great many Alterations, as I used to do.  Get. 
So: Then 've heard of Mr. Antipho's business, I suppose?  Chr. 
All, all.  Get. 
to Demipho. What did you tell him, Sir?— Wasn't it an abominable thing to be so put upon, Mr. Chremes?  Dem. 
'Twas that point he and I were just discoursing on.  Get. 
In troth, Sir, I've been hammering upo' thee same thing, and fancy I ve thought of an Expedient.  Dem. 
hastily. How, Geta! What Expedient?  Get. 
Just as I parted from you, by chance who should I meet with but Phormio?  Chr. 
Who, Phormio?  Get. 
Yes; he that is the young Woman's—  Chr. 
Oh, I know him.  Get. 
The Toy came into my Head, to feel his Pulse a little. I took him aside, Prithee, Phormio (said I) hadned ye better make an end of this Quarrel by fair means, rather than foul? My Master's a freehearted Gentleman, and one that hates Law: But I faith, if he had taken all his Friend's Advice, he d ha' kicked her to the Devil before this time.— Antipho behind overhearing. What does the Rogue mean? What would he be at?  Get. 
— I'll warrant ye you think the Law can take hold of him for that? Pish! We've had Council upon the Business already: And take my word for't, if you once begin a Suit with this Gentleman— he has his Tongue so well hung, he'll make ye smoke for't. But suppose he be Cast; 'tis no hanging Matter, and a little Money will put all to rights again. After this Discourse, I found my Gentleman took down a Peg lower: Here's only you and myself (continued I) Prithee, good Boy, tell me what you demand down and down, to secure my Master from hearing any more of this business, to take the Girl off our hands, and to plague us no farther—  Ant. 
What has Old-Nick bewitched the Fellow? Aside.  Get. 
— I'm sure of this, if you'll but propose any thing that's just and reasonable, he's such a civil Gentleman, there won't be two words between ye.  Dem. 
Who gave you Commission to say all this?  Chr. 
Po! He couldn't ha' spoken better to bring our design about.  Ant. 
All's lost. Aside.  Chr. 
On with your Story.  Get. 
At first he talked like a Madman.  Chr. 
Why, what did he ask?  Get. 
What? The Devil and all: Even what his wild Fancy pleased.  Chr. 
Let's hear't tho.  Get. 
He talked of two or three hundred Guinea's.  Chr. 
As many Devils take him: What, has he no Conscience?  Get. 
I told him as much myself: Good now (said I) suppose he had a Daughter of his own to marry, would he give any more! He's but little the better I sad for having none, since one's clapped on his Back he must give a Portion to. To be short, omitting his idle Impertinencies, at last he came to this conclusion: I've had a mind (said he) from the very first, to marry my Friends Daughters, which was no more than Reason required. For I foresaw the trouble the Girl would be put to, by marrying into a rich Family, she being poor would be made a Slave, not a Wife. But to be plain with ye, I want a Wife with a little Money to pay off my Debts, now if Mr Demipho will give as large a Portion with her, as I'm like to have with one I'm already engaged to, I'll choose her before any Woman alive.  Ant. 
A body don't know what to make on't, whether it be Foolery or Knavery, or whether the Man is silly or wilful. Aside.  Dem. 
What if he has pawned his Soul, must we redeem it?  Get. 
I've mortgaged (continued he) a piece of ground for 25 pounds—  Dem. 
Well, well! Let him take her, I'll pay the Money.  Get. 
and an old House or two for as much more.  Dem. 
Pox on him, that's too much by half [angrily  Chr. 
Make no noise then, he shall have as much as that of me.  Get. 
Then (quoth he) my Wife must have a Maid, more Householdstuff must be bought, and a good handsome Wedding kept: These things put all together will come to 25 pounds more.  Dem. 
He shall clap six hundred Actions upon my back first. I'll not part with a Groat: Shall the paltry Rascal make a Property of me. Walks about in a passion  Chr. 
Good Brother be pacified, I'll lay down the Money, get you but your Son in the Mood to marry the Woman we'd have him.  Ant. 
Alas for me! Ah, Geta, thy Treacheries have undone me. Aside.  Chr. 
'Tis upo' my account she's turned out, and 'tis but reason I should pay the Costs and Charges.  Get. 
Let me know (said he) their Minds as soon as ye can, whether they design to let me have her or no, that I may get clear of the other, and know what to trust to; for the other Girl's Friends are fully designed this very day to lay me down the Portion.  Chr. 
He shall have it immediately, let him break off that Match, and take this Girl.  Dem. 
And the Devil take him into the Bargain.  Chr. 
I've very luckily brought with me the Rent of my Wife's Farm at Lemno: I'll take that, and tell my Wife you had an occasion to borrow it. Exeunt Chremes and Demipho.  Antipho comes up to Geta. Ant. 
Hark ye, Mr. Rogue!  Get. 
Ha', Sir.  Ant. 
D'ye know what you ha' been a doing?  Get. 
Yes; nabbed both the old Fools o' their Money.  Ant. 
Is that enough think ye?  Get. 
Faith, Sir, I can't tell, 'twas as much as you ordered me.  Ant. 
Dog! Are ye at cross Questions with me?  Kicks him. Get. 
What d'ye mean, Sir?  Ant. 
Why, your Rogueship has brought Matters to that fine pass, that now I may go hang myself. To make an Example of thee to all Villains, Heaven, Hell and Earth confound thee. If you want any thing to be well done, I'll recommend ye to my Spark here.— What occasion had you to rip up th' old Sore? And bring my Dear's Name into Question? 've possessed my Father with new hopes of turning her off: And, sweet Sir, supposing Phormio should accept o'th' Portion, he must marry her then to be sure: And what will become of me then?  Get. 
Hell be hanged before he marries her.  Ant. 
I believe so: But when they come to demand their Money back again, he'll rather choose to go to Jail than betray us, I warrant ye. Scornfully.  Get. 
All Stories may be the worse for telling: The best part o''is 've left out, and only mentioned the worst. Now pray hear mine: If he receives the Portion, he's obliged to marry her, as you say; I own: But then there must be time allowed for getting things ready for the Wedding, for inviting of Guests, and for the offering of his Oblations: The mean time Mr. Phedrie's Friends will procure him the Money they promised him, and out of this may Phormio refund to the old Gentlefolks.  Ant. 
Why so? Or what pretence can he make?  Get. 
Pretence? O he has a thousand in his Budget. What Prodigies have I seen (may he pretend) since we made the Bargain? There came a strange Black Dog yelping into my House: A flying Dragon came down the Waterspout, my speckled Hen crowed; The Priest forbade it, and the cunning Man charged me to meddle with no new Business till Winter. These are as good pretences as any I'th' World. Thus shall things be ordered.  Ant. 
Provided they were so—  Get. 
So they shall, take my Word for't— But here comes your Father, withdraw and tell Mr. Phedrie the Money's our own. Exit Antipho.  
Enter at another part of the Stage Demipho with a Bag of Money, and Chremes.  Dem 
entering. Be content I say, I'll take care he shan't cheat us: I'll not part with a Cross to day but upon sure grounds, and before sufficient Witnesses to testify to whom, and for what I deliver it.  Get. 
overhearing. How cautious our Sir Solomon is, where there's no need on't! Aside.  Chr. 
Troth, and so you had need, Brother: But make haste whilst the Fit is upon him. If the other Woman should chance to be beforehand with us, he may throw us off perhaps.  Get. 
You are i'th' right on't.  Dem. 
Bring me to him, Geta.  Get. 
I am ready, Sir.  Chr. 
When 've dispatched that, step over to my Wife, and desire her to have some Discourse with the Girl before we pack her off, that she may tell her, She has no Cause to be angry that we'd have her married to Phormio, since he's the sitter Match, being intimately acquainted with her: and that we havened done contrary to our Duty, because we have given him as good a Portion as he desired.  Dem. 
Pshaw! what aduce is all this to you?  Chr. 
O, a great deal, Brother.  Dem. 
Isn't it enough for you to do your Duty, unless all the World commend ye for't?  Chr. 
I'd willingly have her Consent tho', that she might not pretend she was turned out o'doors  Dem. 
I can tell her all this myself.  Chr. 
But 'twill come better from a Woman tho'.  Dem. 
I'll call upo' your Wife then.  
Exit Demipho and Geta.  Chremes alone. 
I'm thinking now what corner o'th' Town to beat up for these Women of Lemno.  To him enter Sophrona out of Demipho's House. Soph. 
to herself. What shall I do?— What Friend shall I make use of, poor Fool that I am? Whom shall I trust with a Secret of so great Importance? Or where shall I look out for assistance?— I'm strangely afraid my poor Mistress will be basely dealt withal for following my Counsel, for I hear the young Gentleman's Father takes it very heinously.  Chr. 
What disconsolate old Creature's that which comes from my Brothers? A●●●.  Soph. 
to herself 'Twas nothing but Poverty that forced me to do what I did; tho' I knew the Match was scarce good in Law, yet I advised 〈◊〉 to't merely to avoid starving.  Chr. 
In good truth, if I bened mightily out I m● guests, and if my Eyesight don't deceive me, 〈◊〉 my Daughter's Nurse. As●●●.  Soph. 
to herself. Nor can we as yet—  Chr. 
What had I best to do i'th' Case? Aside  Soph. 
to herself.— Find out her Father.  Chr. 
Had I best go to her, or tarry here, and pick something out of her Discourse? 〈◊〉  Soph. 
to herself. If I could find him out, my fear would be over  Chr. 
'Tis she for certain— I'll go talk to her.  aside. Soph. 
Whose Voice is that trow?  Chr. 
Nurse Sophrona!  
Soph And calls me too?  Chr. 
Look this way a little.  Soph. 
turning. Mercy o' my Soul! Mr. Stilpho here?  Chr. 
No. Winking on her.  Soph. 
What deny your own Name?  Chr. 
Prithee, Nurse, come a little this way from that Door; and not a word more of Stilpho Softly.  Soph. 
No, Sir: And like your Worship, arned you he you always said you were?  Chr. 
S●t, S●t. going from his own Door.  Soph. 
What? I hope, Sir, you arned afraid of this Door.  Chr. 
No; but I've a mad Woman there in a Cage: and I formerly gave myself a Nickname for fear some of you should indiscreetly blab it about, and perhaps my Wife should smell a Rat.  Soph. 
And troth that's the reason that we poor Souls could never hear any tale or tidings of ye in Town.  Chr. 
Prithee tell me what business you had at that House you came out of? And where ha' you left your Mistresses?  Soph. 
A-lack-a-day. Sighing.  Chr. 
Ha! What's the Matter? They arned dead I hope  Soph. 
Your Daughter is alive; but the poor creature her Mother broke her Heart with grief. Weeps.  Chr. 
That's bad News, indeed.  Soph. 
But I, a forlorn poor old Woman, married your Daughter as well as I could, to the young Gentleman of that House.  Chr. 
What to Antipho?  Soph. 
Yes, Sir, to him.  Chr. 
How! Has he got two Wives then? angrily.  Soph. 
How so, I beseech ye? He never married any other but this.  Chr. 
What's become of her then that went for his Kinswoman?  Soph. 
Your Daughter Sirs the Person.  Chr. 
How!  Soph. 
'Twas only a contrivance of ours, that since he loved her, he might marry her without a Portion.  Chr. 
Bless me! How often do things fall out by chance, which we have not the heart to wish for! Upo' my coming home, I've found my Daughter settled with the Person I desired, and just as I wished. The very thing my Brother and I aimed at, this old Woman, without any care of ours, has most carefully hit on. Aside.  Soph. 
Now, Sir, you had best see what's to be done i'th' case, the young Gentleman's Father now come home, who, they say, highly 〈◊〉 the Marriage.  Chr. 
interrupting. All's safe enough.— But i'th' Name of Goodness, I conjure ye not to let any living Soul know she's mine.  Soph. 
Not from me, Sir.  Chr. 
Come along, ye shall hear all within.  Exeunt Ambo. 
The End of the Fourth Act.   

ACT V.  Demipho and Geta. Dem. 
WE can blame none but ourselves, for Knaves thriving in their Knavery; for we must, forsooth, affect to be thought genteel and generous: But we should'nt have outrun the Constable, as the saying is. We couldn't be content to be cheated by him, but we must freely throw the Rascal a good lump of Money into the Bargain, for him to live on till he can play us such another Dogtrick.  Get. 
Nothing more certain.  Dem. 
Now a-days, none are rewarded more than such Rogues as would persuade ye black's white.  Get. 
Nothing more sure.  Dem. 
How like a couple of Fools 've managed our business with this Rascal!  Get. 
'Tis managed well enough, provided he keeps to his word, and marries her.  Dem. 
Is there any danger of that now?  Get. 
Faith, Sir, he's such a wavering sort of a Fellow, that I can't tell but he may recant.  Dem. 
The Devil! He recant?  Get. 
That I can't tell, Sir; I only suppose such a thing.  Dem. 
I'll do as my Brother would ha' me; step and bring his Wife to talk with the young Woman.— Do you, Geta, go in and acquaint the Girl of her coming. Exit Demipho.  Geta alone. 
've Coined Money for Mr. Phedrie: The old Gentlemen are as quiet as Lambs: Care is taken that Phany shan't stir a Foot out of our House for the present.—, But what next, Friend Geta? What's to be done now?— Thou'rt as deep in the Dirt as ever; and Tinker-like, in mending one hole hast made two— 'Tis true, there's a sound drubbing put off for a day or two longer; but i'faith thou wilt receive it, and with Interest too, if thou dost not look about thee— Well, I'll go home and teach Phany her Lesson, that she mayn't be surprised at Phormio's Behaviour, or Nausistrata's Discourse. Exit Geta, and as he goes off,  
Enter Demipho leading in Nausistrata.  Dem. 
entring●— Come on then; and pray, Madam, make use of your fine knack of speaking, ●ow, that the Girl mayn't think hardly of us, but be brought to do what we'd have her freely and willingly.  Nau. 
So I will, Brother.  Dem. 
Let your Endeavours be as serviceable to me now, as before your Purse was.  Nau. 
I should be glad to pleasure ye: But in troth, Brother, 'tis all long of my naughty Man's carelessness that I can't do so handsomely as I would.  Dem. 
How so pray?  Nau. 
Why, in troth he doesned manage the Estate, my Father left me, worth a Farthing; for he constantly made nigh Four hundred Pound a Year of his Land.— Bless me! to see the difference of Men  Dem. 
Nigh Four hundred Pound a Year, say ye?  Nau. 
Yes, indeed, when things were at a lower rate by far than now.  Dem. 
Very strange!  Nau. 
You wonder At it I warrant ye.  Dem. 
AY, and I can't forbear.  Nau. 
Would I had been a Man for his sake, I'd ha' shown him—  Dem. 
Ay, aY, so you would. Jeeringly.  Nau. 
How I would have—  Dem. 
interrupting. Spare yourself, good Sister, to encounter the young Woman; perhaps she'll be too hard for ye at your own Weapon else.  Nau. 
I'll be ruled by ye:— But here comes my good Man from your House.  
Enter Chremes, goes up to Demipho not seeing his Wife.  Chr. 
Ho! Brother, have ye paid away the Money yet, or no?  Dem. 
I did that presently.  Chr. 
I wish you hadned.— Sees Nausistrata and starts. 'Sdeath my Wife! I had like to have said too much. Aside.  Dem. 
Why d'ye wish I hadned, Brother?  Chr. 
Nothing, all's well.  Dem. 
But hark ye, did ye tell the young Woman upon what account your Wife was coming to her?  Chr. 
Every bit on't.  Dem. 
Well, and what says she?  Chr. 
She can't be persuaded to't.  Dem. 
Why can't she tho?  Chr. 
Because of the Love that is between 'em.  Dem. 
Pish! What's that to us?  Chr. 
O very much;— Besides I've found her to be our real Kinswoman.  Dem. 
How? Are you mad too?  Chr. 
You'll find it so as I say: I don't speak but upon good grounds, pray recollect yourself a little.  Dem. 
Certainly you are mad.  Nau. 
Good Brother Demipho, you won't wrong your Kinswoman, will ye?  Dem. 
She's none of mine.  Chr. 
Don't say so; her Father has another Name, and that bred your mistake.  Dem. 
What? Didn't she know her own Father?  Chr. 
Yes marry did she.  Dem. 
Why didn't he call himself by his own Name then?  Chr. 
Will ye never believe, nor understand me?  
Aside to Demipho.  Dem. 
How should I, if you won't tell me—  Chr. 
You'll spoil all. Winks on him.  Nau. 
I can't imagine what the business should be.  Dem. 
Faith, nor I.  Chr. 
Must ye needs know all? As I hope for mercy, there's none so nigh akin to her as you and I.  Dem. 
Bless my Soul! Let's all go in together; I'll know something or nothing of her.  Chr. 
Hold! Dem. What's the Matter?  Chr. 
Have I got so little Credit with you, Brother?  Dem. 
Would ye have me credit you without searching any further into the business?— Well, be it so then: But how will ye bestow your Friend's Daughter the while?  Chr. 
She'll do well enough.  Dem. 
Must we turn her off then?  Chr. 
Why not?  Dem. 
And keep this Creature here?  Chr. 
Yes.  Dem. 
Well, Sister, you may go home again if you please.  Nau. 
Troth, I think 'tis much the better way to keep her still, than part with her; for when I first saw her, she looked very much like a Gentlewoman. Exit Nausistrata.  Dem. 
Now what's all this business?  Chr. 
looking after Nausistrata. Has she shut to the Door? Fearfully.  Dem. 
Yes.  Chr. 
Wonderful! The best Luck in the World. I find 'tis my own Daughter that's married to your Son.  Dem. 
Ha! Is't possible?  Chr. 
This is no safe place to tell ye.  Dem. 
Step into my House then.  Chr. 
But hark ye, I would'nt have so much as the two Boys know any thing of this. Exeunt Ambo.  Enter at another part of the Stage alone. Antipho 
Let my own Concerns go as they will, yet 'tis a Comfort to me that Matters go so well with my Cousin. 'Tis a piece of Art for a Man to rule his Appetite so, that a small Matter shall satisfy him when his Fortune is at the lowest Ebb. No sooner had my Cousin Phedrie received the Money, but his Cares are over, for my part I know no way to free myself from mine. If this business be concealed, I shall be always in fear; if discovered Infamy will be my reward.— I couldn't ha' the Heart to go home, if I hadn't some-small hopes of enjoying my dear Phanie still.— But where shall I meet with Geta. to know of him what may be the most convenient time of showing myself to my Father?  
Enter Phormio at a distance.  Phor 
to himself. I've received the Cash, paid off the Bawd, brought away the Wench, and taken care that Phedrie should now enjoy her as his own; since she's now out of her Slavery.— I've one thing still in hand which must be dispatched, that is, To get leave of these old Curmudgeons to go and tope it a little, for I've cut out a few odd days for my own diversion.  Ant. 
Look, here's Phormio.— What sayest?  Phor. 
What, Sir?  Ant. 
what's my Cousin Phedrie about? Does he pretend to play the Epicure in Love?  Phor. 
He's going in his turn to act your part now.  Ant. 
Prithee, what part?  Phor. 
Of keeping out of his old Daddy's clutches, and he begs you'd act his, and plead his Cause for him; for he and I are to sing Old Rose together.— I am going to tell the old Gentlemen, that I am bound for Sunio-Fair, to buy the little Slave Geta told 'em of. That so when they see I'm not in Town, they mayn't imagine I make their Money fly.— But your Door goes there.  Ant. 
Prithee see who comes out.  Phor. 
'Tis Geta.  
Enter Geta from Demipho' s in great haste, with a Cloak in his Hand.  Get. 
to himself. Thou blessed, blessed Fortune, how much is my Master Antipho obliged to thee for this Day's Work.  Antony's 
to Phormio. What does the Fellow mean?  Get. 
to himself. And out of how many cold Fits hast thou freed us that are his Friends?— But why do I loiter? And not clap on my Cloak? Why don't I run to find him out, and let him know how things have happened? Puts on his short Cloak and struts about.  A 〈◊〉 
yeye understand what he says?  Phor. 
Do you, Sir?  Ant. 
Not a word.  Phor. 
Nor I neither.  Get. 
to himself. I'll go to old Dorio's, for there to be sure they are. Going off.  Ant. 
Soho, Geta!  Get. 
Soho, to you too.— 'Tisned strange nor new for a Man o'my quality to be interrupted i'th' middle of his Journey.  Ant. 
Why, Geta!  Get. 
Faith he keeps his pace for all that. Your Impertinence shall never bring me back.  Ant. 
Vvoned ye stay then?  Get. 
Sirrah you shall be kicked— Some saucy Scullion or other that calls me thus. Aside.  Ant. 
You shall be served the same sauce, if ye don't stay, ye Dog.  Get. 
This must be one that knows me very well, that is so free of his Compliments. Turning about] But isn't it he I want?— 'Tis he.  Phor. 
to Antipho. Step up to him presently.  Ant. 
goes to Geta. what's the News with you?  Get. 
O, Sir! The happiest Man this day alive! without doubt you are the Darling of the Skies.  Ant. 
So I would be, and would have ye give me some reason to believe so.  Get. 
Isn't it enough if I plunge ye over Head and Ears in Joy?  Ant. 
You kill me with Impertinence.  Phor. 
Hang your Preambles, and say what 've to say quickly.  Get. 
Oh!— Art thou here, old Rock?  Phor. 
Yes; But why this fooling?  Get. 
Observe then; Him them!— As soone as we gave you the Money at the Piazza, we went straight home. To Phormio.— In the way home my Master sent me to your Lady. To Antipho.  Ant. 
For what?  Get. 
Nay, there I leave ye● That's nothing to our business, Sir,— Just as I was going int●●ner Apartment, her Boy Mida runs up to me, catches me hold by the Cloak, and pulls me back. I turned about, and asked him what he meant; he told me no body must come nigh his Mistress; that Sophrona just now brought Mr. Demipho's Brother, Mr. Chremes; and that there they were all together. At that word, I steals me up to the Door a Tiptoe, I went and stood close up to't, held my Breath, laid my Ear to the Keyhole, and very attentively listened to their Discourse, thus.  Showing how. Ant. 
O brave Geta!  Get. 
There did I hear the pleasantest Story in the World, that before George I could hardly forbear huzzaing there.  Phor. 
For what?  Get. 
For what d'ye think?  Ant. 
I can't guests.  Get. 
And such a prodigious wonderful Passage too.— 'Slid, your Uncle is found to be your Spouse's own Father.  Ant. 
Ha! What's that?  Get. 
He had formerly some private Acquaintance with her Mother at Lemno.  Phor. 
Mere Dreams! How came she not to know her own Father then?  Get. 
You may suppose there was a Reason for that: But d'ye think I that was without Doors, could understand every word that was spoke within?  Phor. 
Faith now I think on't, there was some such flying Report.  Get. 
I'll give ye some further Proof.— Whilst I stood listening, out goes your Uncle, and presently after brought your Father in along with him; and bo●● said you might keep her and welcome, In short, 've sent me to look for ye, and bring ye to 'em.  Ant. 
throws his Arms about Geta ' s Neck. Bless my Soul! away with me in a moment:— Are ye mad to stay?  Get. 
I'll do't, as I'm a living Man.  Ant. 
Dear Rogue, Phormio, farewell.  Phor. 
Adieu, adieu, Sir.  
Exit Gera carrying off Antipho.  
Phormio alone.  
Let me die, if this be'nt a lucky hit. I am glad with all my Heart 've met with such good Fortune, and so unexpectedly too. Faith now I've an excellent opportunity of bubbling both the old Fellows, and of taking the Money-care off Phedrie's hands: So that he needned be beholding to any of his Friends for't: For the same Money I squeezed from these old Gripes, shall go for Phedrie's use: And egad I've found out a way will do it effectually: I must get me a new stately Gate, and a fine set Countenance.— But I'll step into the next blind Alley, and pop out upon 'em as soon as they appear; for now I'm not for Sunio-Fair, as I pretended.  He retires to one side of the Stage. 
Enter Demipho and Chremes.  Dem. 
entering. I bless my Stars with all my heart, for the good Luck my business has met with.— But let us make what haste we can to Phormio, that we may recover our Money, before he makes it all go to wreck.  Phor. 
comes from his covert, speaks to himself, meets Demipho, then starts I'll go and see whether Mr. Demipho be at home, that I may—  Dem. 
We were coming to you, Mr. Phormio.  Phor. 
Upo'th'old business I warrant.  Dem. 
Yes, truly.  Phor. 
So I thought; but what need of that? A good Jest in troth. What, were ye afraid I should not stand to what I said? Hark ye, Gentlemen, though I am but a poor Fellow, I always took care to be a Man of my Word.  Chr. 
to Demipho. Isn't she a well-bred Girl as I told ye?  Dem. 
Yes, indeed  Phor. 
For that reason I'm come on purpose to tell ye, Sir, that I am ready, and you may give her away as soon as you please; for I've thrown off all my other business, as 'twas ●easor▪ I should, when I saw that you (Gentlemen) were so eager upon this.  Dem. 
But my Brother here advises me to the contrary: For (says he) by doing this you'll become the common Town-talk; when you might ha' put her away with some Credit, than you would'nt: And 'twould be a Scandal to turn her off now she's married to your Son. In fine, he used almost the same Reasons, you urged just now, against me.  Phor. 
Marry come up, how merry you are upon me!  Dem. 
How so?  Phor. 
How so quoth a? Why now I can never marry the tother. With what Face, think ye, can I go again to her I just now so bafely turned off?  Chr. 
aside to Demipho Tell him you find that Antipho won't endure to part with her.  Dem. 
Besides I find that Antipho won't endure to part with her.— Therefore, good Phormio, let me desire ye to step to the Bankers, and order the Money to be paid me back again.  Phor. 
What? When I've just paid it away to my Creditors?  Dem. 
aside to Chremes. What shall we do now?  Phor. 
If you'll let me have the Woman according to promise, so be it; if you design to keep her Person, I'll keep her Portion, Mr. Demipho: For there's no reason I should be fobbed by ye for your pleasure only, since to save your Credit I threw off another that would have had as good a Portion to a Farthing.  Dem. 
Old-Nick take thee with thy Rhodomontades for a Rogue as thou art; I warrant, you think I don't know you or your damned Tricks either.  Phor. 
This puts me beyond all patience.  Dem. 
Why, would you marry her if she were proffered to ye?  Phor. 
Try me, try me.  Dem. 
That so my Son might Bed and Board with her at your House: Was that your Plot?  Phor. 
Ha! What's that you say?  Dem. 
I say, give me my Money.  Phor. 
And I say, give me my Wife.  Dem. 
Come before a Justice of Peace, Sirrah,  Phor. 
A Justice of Peace? Nay, if you be thereabouts, I'll—  Dem. 
What will ye do?  Phor. 
Who I, Sir? I warrant you suppose I've none but Portionless Clients; but I'll have ye to know, I've those with Portions too.  Chr. 
what's that to us?  Phor. 
Nothing, Sir; only I know one of them in this Town, whose Husband had—  Chr. 
The Devil. Aside.  Dem. 
what's the matter now?  Phor. 
— Another Wife at Lemno.  Chr. 
I am dead.—  aside. Phor. 
— By whom he had a Daughter, which he brought up and no body e'er the wiser.  Chr. 
I am buried. Aside.  Phor. 
I'll just now go and acquaint the Gentlewoman with the long and the short on't.  Chr. 
holding him. Pray now done't.  Phor. 
Ah, ha', Sir! Are you the Party concerned?  Dem. 
How basely the Rogue plays upon us? aside  Chr. 
Come, we'll discharge ye.  Phor. 
Mere Flams.  Chr. 
What would ye have more? I tell ye we'll forgive ye the Money 've got of ours. Softly.  Phor. 
I hear ye.— What a plague yeye play children's play with me? I wont, I will; I will and I won't again; Give, take; 'tis said and unsaid, done and undone again.  Chr. 
By what means? Or how the duce came he to know this? Aside to Demipho.  Demipho and Chremes walk on one side. Dem. 
I can't imagine; for I am certain I never told any living Soul of it.  Chr. 
There's Witchcraft in't, I'll be sworn, else.  Phor. 
I've given them a Bone to pick. Aside.  Dem. 
aside to Chremes. S'bud, shall this Rascal carry off such a round Sum of Money, and abuse us to the very Face too? By Heavens he shall have my Heart for his Supper as soon. Come pluck up a good Heart, Brother, and play the Man; you see your failing has taken Air, and 'tis impossible to keep it from your Wife now: Since she must know it from others, 'tis the best way for quietness sake to tell her of it ourselves; then we may worry this dirty Rascal as we please. They move nigher to Phormio.  Phor. 
O lamentable! If I don't look about me I shall be trepanned, as sure as a Gun. They make towards me like a couple of Bullies to hector me. Aside.  Chr. 
aside to Demipho. But I'm afraid she'll ne'er be reconciled to me.  Dem. 
aside to Chremes Take heart Man, I'll certainly make up the business: You may trust to that, Brother, since the Woman you had this Daughter by is dead, and gone out of the way.  Phor. 
Is this your deal, Gentlemen? You come upon me very cunningly methinks: But in troth, Mr. Demipho, you've done your Brother but little good by provoking me thus.— To Chremes And you, Sir, after 've taken your swinge beyond Sea, and shown no regard to a Lady of Quality, but offered her the most sensible Affronts; d'ye think by whining and praying to expiate your Fault? No, with this Story I'll raise her in such Flames, that tho' you dissolved into Tears, yet you should'nt be able to quench 'em.  Dem. 
Plagues and Furies seize the Rogue, and cast him into the deepest Pit of Hell! Was there ever such an impudent Dog upon the Face of the Earth? Doesned this Rogue deserve to be transported at the public Charge to some Desert Island?  Chr. 
He has got me so upon the thank, that I know not what course to take with him.  Dem. 
I've found a way: Let's have him before a Justice.  Phor. 
Before a Justice? Ay, the She-Justice of this House then. It going towards Chremes' s.  Dem. 
Fellow him and hold him fast, till I call my Servants out.  Chr. 
holding him I ain't able to hold him: Come and help me. Here they both hold him.  Phor. 
I'll clap an Action upon your back, Mr. Demipho. Dem. Do't then.  Phor. 
And another upon yours, Mr. Chremes.  
Enter a Servant or two from Demipho ' s.  Dem. 
to the Servants. Here, take away this Rascal. Here the Servants lay hold of Phormio, he scuffles with them, throws down Demipho that comes to assist them, but at last is overpowered.  Phor. 
Are ye at that Sport? Nay then 'tis time to cry out; Nausistrata, come hither a little.  Chr. 
Gag the Villain.  Dem. 
panting. What— a confounded strong Dog he— is.  Phor. 
aloud. Nausistrata, I say.  Chr. 
Won't ye hold your Tongue, Sirrah?  Phor. 
Plague! I hold my Tongue?  Dem. 
to the Servants. If he won't go along freely give him a punch i'th' Guts  Phor. 
Or scratch my Eyes out; I've a way to be revenged for all that.  
Enter Nausistrata: The Servants unhand  
Phormio: Chremes looks very simply.  Naus. 
Who calls me?  Chr. 
Zookers! Aside.  Naus. 
Good Husband, what disturbance is this?  Phor. 
Ha! What is your Mouth stopped now?  
To Chremes.  Naus. 
What Fellow's this? Vvoned ye tell me?  Phor. 
He tell ye, Madam? I'faith his Head is so giddy, he can't tell where he is himself.  Chr. 
Good Duck! Don't believe one word he says.  Phor. 
Do but go and feel him, Madam; and hang me if he bened as cold as a Stone.  Chr. 
That signifies nothing.  Naus. 
What then? What does the Fellow talk of?  Phor. 
I'll tell ye, Madam, pray mind me.  Chr. 
Are ye resolved to believe him, Duck?  Naus. 
Prithee what can I believe, he has told me nothing yet.  Phor. 
The poor Man's fear has put him out of his Wits.  Naus. 
In troth this can't be for nothing that you should be in such a fright.  Chr. 
Who I in a fright?  Pher. 
Ay, for certain; for if you bened, and if this I'm going to tell, is of no consequence, pray tell it your self, Sir.  Dem. 
Y●●●ascal, shall he tell it to humour you?  Phor. 
Oh you do rarely in taking your Brother's part  Naus. 
What, Husband, won't ye tell me the Business then?  Chr. 
faltering. Po— but—  Naus. 
But, what But?  Chr. 
There's no ocasion for't—  Phor. 
Not for you, perhaps; but for her there is.— At Lemno.—  Chr. 
Ha! what says he?  Dem. 
Dog be silent  Phor. 
— Without your knowledge—  Chr. 
— Undone Aside.  Phor. 
— He married a Wife. Chremes looks  
upon the Ground.  Naus. 
Who, my Husband? Heavens forbidden that.  Phor. 
O'my Soul 'tis all true.  Naus. 
Alas-a-day I am utterly ruined.  Phor. 
And there he got a Daughter by her, which you never dreamt of.—  Chr. 
What will become of me now? Aside.  Naus. 
Oh Heavens! Base and treacherous this. Weeps.  Phor. 
'Tis as I say.  Naus. 
Was there ever such an unworthy Action heard of? When they come to their Wives, they pretend they are old, forsooth— ● address myself to you, Brother, for I am 〈◊〉 to speak to him. Was it for this he went so oft, and stayed so long at Lemno? Was this ●●● low Price of Corn that made our Rents full?  Dem. 
Indeed, Sister, I own he was in some fault, but yet 'tis a venial one.  Phor. 
He preaches to the Wind. Aside.  Dem. 
It wasn't out of Contempt or Aversion to you he did this. About fifteen years ago, he, in his Drink, had to do with this Woman, and had this Daughter by her, but ne'er touched her since; she's now dead, and gone out of the way, who was your only grievance. Therefore, good Sister, take it patiently, as you used to do other things.  Naus. 
Take it patiently? No: I had rather part from him for ever: For what can I hope for now? Can I expect Age will teach him better things? If that would ha' done't, he was old enough then: Or is my Age and Beauty like to please him more than formerly? What reason can ye give to make me to look, or hope for his amendment?  Phor. 
aside Ha'— ha'— ha'— Here's a cast of my Office— If any one has a mind to come to Chremes' Funeral, now is the time. Now let any Man provoke my Honour that dares, I'll serve him the same sauce I'll warrant him.— Let him be Friends with me now as soon as he please: I've swinged him off sufficiently for once; and she has wherewithal to hit him i'th' Teeth as long as he has an hour to live.  Naus. 
scornfully. I warrant ye, I deserved all this.— But, Brother, what need have I to reckon up how Faithful I've been to him in every thing.  Dem. 
I'm satisfied in that as well as you yourself.  Naus. 
D'ye really think I deserved this ill usage at his hands?  Dem. 
Not i'th' least— But since all your Complaints can't undo what's already done, forget and forgive: He begs your pardon, owns his Fault, and promises amends. What can ye desire more?  Phor. 
aside. But i'faith before the Pardon's sealed there must be a Proviso or two made for myself and Mr. Phedrie.— Hark ye, Madam, let me put in a word before you answer.  Naus. 
Let's hear it then.  Phor. 
I cokesed your Husband out of Threescore and Fifteen Pounds, which I gave to your Son to buy a Sweetheart of his of an old Pander.  Chr. 
hastily. Ha! How's that?—  Naus. 
interrupting. Is it such a strange think for your Son in his youthful days to keep one Mistress, when you aren't ashamed to have two Wives? With what Face can ye reprimand him? Answer me that pray.  
Chremes draws back and looks sillily.  Dem. 
He shall be ruled by you.  Naus. 
Well! that you may know my mind plainly, I'll neither pardon him, promise him any thing, nor give him any Answer till I see my Son, to whose determination I refer all; and shall do what he order.  Phor. 
've done very discreetly, Madam.  Naus. 
to Phormio. Will that satisfy you?  Phor. 
Yes indeed, Madam, I am come off rarely and beyond expectation.  Naus. 
Pray, honest Man, what may I call your Name.  Phor. 
Mine, Madam? 'Tis Phormio, your whole Family's humble Servant, and especially Mr Phedrie ●s.  Naus. 
Honest Phormio! Whatever kindness I can do thee, and thou desirest, be't in Word or Deed I'll do it.  Phor. 
You honour me too much, Madam.  Naus. 
Troth 'tis no more than your deserve.  Phor. 
First then, Madam, will ye do something that will pleasure, me and fret your Husband.  Naus. 
With all my Heart.  Phor. 
If you please invite me to Supper then.  Naus. 
Faith come and welcome.  Dem. 
Let's go in then.  Naus. 
Agreed,— But where's Phedrie our Referee all this while?  Phor. 
I hope he'll be here anon.—  
To the Spectators.  
Gentlemen,  
Far ye well, and clap.   
The End of the Tricks of Phormio.   

THE Mother-in-Law.  
A COMEDY, Acted at the Roman Sports, WHEN S. Julius Caesar, and Cn. Cornelius Dolabella, were Curule Edil's,  
At that time it was not Acted quite through.  
Flaccus made free by Claudius, Composed the Music, which was performed upon two Equal FLUTES.  
It was taken wholly from the Greek of Apollodorus.  
Acted first under the Consulship of Cn. Octavius and T. Manlius.  
It was Acted a second time at a Funeral Solemnity.  
Acted a third time, when Q. Fulvius, and L. Murcie, were Curule Edil's.  
A. V C. 588. Before Christ 155.   

Dramatis Personae.  

MEN.  
Laches, An old Gentleman of Athens; very honest and true hearted, lately retired into the Country.  
Phidippus Another old Citizen of Athens; his Neighbour and Friend, indulgent to his Family, but somewhat Angry when stirred.  
Pamphilus, Laches ' s Son; a very gentile, civil, obliging, good natured young Gentleman, and a great Respecter of his Parents, though formerly somewhat debauched.  
Parmeno, Servant to Pamphilus, and his Confident; a trusty, merry, inquisitive Fellow.  
Socia, Another Servant of Phamphilus ' s.   

WOMEN.  
Sostrata, The Mother in-law; Wife to Laches, a submissive, peaceable, kind old Gentlewoman  
Myrrhina, Wife to Phidippus; easy, gentle, and fearful.  
Bacchis, A noted Courtesan, formerly Miss to Pamphilus; very honest and generous considering her Circumstances.  
Philotis, Another Courtesan; of a merry, gentle, sweet, Nature.  
Syra, An old Woman of the same stamp, peevish, revengeful, and ill natured.   

MUTES.  
Philumena, Wife to Pamphilus, and Daughter to Phidippus.  
Scirtus, A Boy of Laches ' s.  
The Nurse.  
Two Servants to Bacchis.   
Scene, ATHENS.  
TIME, about Six or Seven Hours.   

THE Mother-in-Law.  

ACT I.  
SCENE, The Street, before Phidippus and Laches ' s Door. TIME, The Forenoon  Enter Philotis and Syra. Phil. 
I'Faith, old Syra, there's not one in forty of these young Fellows that keeps touch with a Mistress— Why here's Mr. Pamphilus now, how many thousand Oaths has he sworn to Bacchis (and solemnly too, that one cou'dned but believe him) that he'd never marry while she lived. Very good, yet my Gentleman's married for all that.  Syr. 
For that Reason, Girl, let me advise and conjure you as a Friend to pity none of the Sex; but fleece 'em maul 'em, pick the very Bones of every Creature of 'em, that you get in your Clutches.  Phil. 
What all without exception? Sighing.  Syr. 
Ay every Mother's Son of 'em.— Take this from an old Woman, that there's none of these Sparks that are so sweet upon ye, that has any other design than to have his will of ye, at as cheap a rate as he can. And prithee Child, should'nt thou in justice countermine 'em.  Phil. 
But to serve all alike is too cruel, I vow.  Syr. 
Cruel to be revenged of one's Enemies? Or to take Cheats in their own Traps? Ah! what pity 'tis, that I had not that Youth and Beauty of yours, or you those Sentiments of these Matters that I have.  
Enter Parmeno at a distance,  Par. 
to Scirtus within If the old Gentleman ask for me, tell him I'm just gone to the Waterside, to inquire when Mr. Pamphilus comes home— D'ye hear, Boy? If he asks for me, you may tell him so; if not say nothing; then this Excuse will keep cold for another time.— He comes from the Door. But is that Philly there?— Whence comes she, I wonder?— Goes up to 'em. Philotis, I'm hearty glad to see ye.  Phil. 
And I you, honest Parmeno.  Syr. 
Gods-buddikins, Parmeno, how dost thou do my Lad?  Par. 
ud's fish, Grannum, how dost thou? Ex. Syra. But prithee, Mrs. Philly, where ha' you been diverting yourself this livelong while?  Phil. 
But little diversion, Heaven knows; e'er since I marched off with the Captain to Corinth, the merest Brute upon Earth, where I led a very Dog's Life for two whole Years together.  Par. 
Ay faith! I warrant ye, you often sighed for old Athens again, and could ha' wished yourself hanged for undertaking the Journey.  Phil. 
'Tis impossible to tell ye how eager I was to come home to get clear of my Spark, and to see ye all once more; where I might ha' free liberty to enjoy my Friends and Merry-meetings as formerly. For there I couldn't utter a Word but what was shaped out by that rascally Captain.  Par. 
That same cutting ye short of your tattle, I fancy, must needs go against the grain.  Phil. 
Well: But what a business is this that Bacchis has been telling o' me within? I could ne'er have imagined Pamphilus could ha' found in his heart to marry as long as she lived.  Par. 
Marry quoth a? Angrily.  Phil. 
Heyday! Why isn't he married.  Par. 
Married indeed: But I have a conceit this Marriage won't hold long.  Phil. 
Pray Heavens it may not, if it be to Baschis' Advantage.— But how shall I be certain of it? Good Boy, satisfy me in that.  Par. 
'Tisned a thing to be asked: Therefore pray don't be so inquisitive.  Phil. 
You're afraid, I warrant, that I should blaze it abroad: But let me perish if I ask ye upon any such design, but only for my own private Satisfaction.  Par. 
All your fine Wheadling shall ne'er persuade me to trust my Back to your Discretion.  Phil. 
Well don't then, who cares? As if now you had not much more mind to tell me, than I to know. In a jaunting way.  Par. 
aside, E'dad she's i'th' right on t: See has hit upo' my greatest Weakness— Well, Madam, promise Secrecy upon your Honour, and I ll tell ye● all.  Phil. 
So: Now you're come to yourself again.— Upon my Honour then: away with't.  Par. 
Mind me then. Phil. Well.  Par. 
Mr. Pamphilus was i'th' very height of his Passion for Mrs. Bacchis, when his Father began to be earnest with him to marry. He alleged the usual Arguments of all Fathers in the like Case, namely, That he was an old Man, had no Child but him, and desired that he might not be destitute of a Support in his old Age. At first he rejects the Proposal; but when his Father came to press on the Business more zealously than ordinary, he was brought to such straits that he couldn't tell which to prefer either Love or Duty. At last the old Man by baiting and teazing his Son's Heart out, screwed him up to his Pitch, and got him made sure to his next Neighbour's Daughter. Pamphilus didn't take it in such dudgeon till his wedding-day came on; but when he saw all things ready; and without more ado, marry he must; he laid it so much to heart, that I'm persuaded if Bacchis herself had seen him in that plight, she couldn't but have pitied him. For whenever he had any spare time of being by himself, he'd call me aside to him and cry, Ah, Parmeno, I m a lost Man What have I done? What a dismal Condition have I brought myself into? I an't able to bear the weight of it: Oh, 'twill break my Heart.  Phil. 
The Devil and his Dam take this Laches for a baiting old Cur.  Par. 
To cut short o' my Story, the Bride was brought home: The first Night he did not touch her: and the following was the same.—  Phil. 
The Deuce take ye: what, a young Fellow to have his Bride in Bed with him on the wedding-night, and pretty tipsy too, I warrant ye, and not— A likely business introth: Come, this sounds like a Lye.  Par. 
I know you can't tell how to believe me, ● cause none comes to you, but he comes sharp set: But alas, our young Gentleman had no Stomach at all to his woman.  Phil. 
Well, but what then?  Par. 
A few days after, he takes me privately aside, and tells me, She was as good a Maid as ever for all him; and that before he married, he hop d a Wise might ha' gone down pretty well; but now (said he) I m resolved to part with her e'er long. 'twould be a buseness in me, and much to the prejudice of the poor Gentlewoman to abuse her so, as not to return her to her Friends, as I received her.  Phil. 
T was done like a Man of Principles and Modesty.  
Par. But then (continued he) ●wont be safe to publish my Intentions: and for me to send her back to her Father, and have nothing to say against her, would be too peremptory. All my hope is, when she finds there's no living together, that she'll be gone of her own accord.  Phil. 
But all this while did he continue his Visits to Bacchis.  Par. 
As constantly as the day came about: But (as 'tis usual for Women) when she saw him another's, she became more peevish and pretending than formerly.  Phil. 
I faith, and well she might.  Par. 
And this indeed was the chief cause of their parting. For by this time he had recollected himself, and seriously considered his Mistress' Temper and his Wife's; and well compared their Behaviours together. His Wife, he found, was a sweet-natured Gentlewoman; virtuous and modest, patiented under the Affronts and Incivilites of a Husband, and willing to wink at his Faults. So that partly touched with remorse for his usage of his Wife, and partly tired with the insolence of his Whore; at last he gave Bacchis the slip, and settled his Affections upon this woman, whose Homour he found so agreeable to his own.— Mean time, an old Kinsman of our Master dies at Imbros, and made him his Heir; and upon this unwilling Errand is our Lovesick Pamphilus posted away by his Father. He leaves his Lady with his Mother; for the old Gentleman lives retired in the Country, and seldom visits the Town.  Phil. 
But where's this Flaw in the Match all the while?  Par. 
I'm going to tell ye: At first, for a few days or so, the Mother, and the Daughter-in-law agreed mighty well together. When all on a sudden the young woman began to hate the old one most mortally, without any Quarrel or Complaint on either side.  Phil. 
How came it about then?  Par. 
If at any time my old Lady Sostrata came to have a little Chat with her, she'd presently avoid the Room, and fly the Sight of her: But when she could away with her Company no longer, she pretends her Mother had sent for her upon some business of Devotion; and away she goes. After she had been there a while, my Lady sends and desires her Company at home, she only returns her a lame excuse of I know not what. She sends a second time, but no Gentlewoman comes: At last after many Messages they pretend she is sick. Upo' this, any Lady steps over herself, to give her a Visit, but no admittance could be got. When this came to my old Master's Ears, yesterday he came out of the Country upo'this very account, and discourses her Father about it. I can't learn as yet what passed between them? but I'm in a peck of troubles to know what will come on't— Now 've the long and the short o' my Story.— I must away to the place I designed.  Phil. 
And so must I too: For I've made an Assignation with a Country Squire much about this time.  Par. 
I'll throw an old Shoe after ye, and wish ye good Luck.  Phil. 
Farewell Parmeno.  Par. 
And farewel to thee, my little Philly.  Exeunt severally. 
The End of the First Act.   

ACT II.  
Enter Laches and Sostrata after him.  Lach. 
entering. BLess my Soul! What a Strain's this? what a confounded Conspiracy is this? That all Women should take the same Bias, and do or not do every thing by consent? when did you see a Mother-in-Law that did not hate her Daughter-in-Law? Their Endeavours to oppose their Husbands are the same, and their cross-grained Stubborness the same. I faney they were all trained up for Mischief in the same School, of which damned place of Education (if there be any such) I'll be sworn my Dame is the Mistress.  Walks about in a huff. Soft. 
This is a hard Case, that I should be accused of a business that I know nothing of?  Lach. 
You know nothing of this then?  Soft. 
As I hope for mercy, I don't: And as I hope (my dear Laches!) we may live long together.  Lach. 
Heavens forbidden that, say I.  Soft. 
That I'm wrongfully accused, time will discover.  Lach. 
jeering. Yes, yes; you are wrongfully accused.— Can Words be ill enough to set ye out in your proper Colours? You that have disgraced me, yourself and our Family, and are laying in sufficient Matter to torment your Son? Then 've provoked our new Friends and Relations to hate us, those who were pleased to honour our Son with their Alliance: And you forsooth must start up, and confound all, by your ill-conditioned Humours.  Soft. 
Who I?  Lach. 
Woman, I say you: Why you take me surely for a Block and not a Man. Think ye because I'm retired into the Country, that I know nothing of your Pranks and Transactions here in Town? But let me tell ye, I know much better what's done here than at the place of my own residence; and that because my Reputation abroad depends upon your Behaviour at home. I heard indeed long ago that Philumena could not endure ye, and made no wonder on't; 'twould ha' been a greater Miracle if she could: But I little thought she cou'dned have endured the whole Family upo' your account; had ●●been ware of that, she should have stayed, and you packed off i'faith.— Pray see, Wife, what small rrason ye have to vex me thus. I retired into the Country, gave way to ye, afforded ye enough for your Necessities, and your Pleasures too; and that my Estate might the better bear it, I've wearied and toiled myself more than's convenient for my Age; and couldn't ye after all this have took care that nothing disturbed my repose?  Soft. 
By all that's good, what has happened was not through my means or fault.  Lach. 
No? Yes, but 'twas: For you're sele Mistress here. and you're only to be blamed: Sure you might ha' looked after things in your own House since I've taken all other Cares off your hands. An old Woman to stand squabbling with a Girl? Fie, fie!— You won't lay the Fault upon her sure?  Soft. 
No: Dear Husband, I lay nothing to her charge.  Lach. 
O' my Soul I'm glad o' that for poor Pam's sake: But as for you, do the worst ye can, I can't think worse of ye than I do.  Soft. 
But, good Husband, how d'ye know, but she may only pretend a displeasure against me, to be the more at home with her Mother?  Lach. 
ne'er tell me that. Wasn't yesterday shutting the Door against ye sufficient proof of her hatred?  Soft. 
They told me, she was very faint and weak; therefore 'twasn't convenient to disturb her.  Lach. 
She's sick, I fancy, of your ill Conditions more than of any thing else. And no wonder introth: for there's not a Mother of ye all but would have your Sons marry: And whoever is the Person that pleases you; they must have: And when to comply with your Humour they are married, to comply with your Humour again, they must turn their Wives out of doors.  
Phidippus appears at his Door.  Phid. 
to Philumena within. Tho' I'm satisfied I've Authority to force you to obey what I Command, yet my Fatherly Affection prevails with me rather to give way to ye, and not cross ye in your Humour.  Lach. 
Oh! here's my Brother Phidippus in good time, I shall know all from him.— They meet one another. I confess, Brother, I'm as indulgent to all my Family as any Man; yet I suffer not my easiness to corrupt their Morals. Were you as careful, I'm persuaded 'twould be more for your advantage, as well as ours: But now I find you suffer 'em to ride ye as they list.  Phid. 
Look ye there now. Aside.  Lach. 
Yesterday I waited upon ye about your Daughter; you sent me away as wise as I came: But let me tell ye, you don't do well to conceal the Cause of your Anger, if ye design a lasting Alliance between us. If any of us have offended ye, pray make it out; that so either by disproving or justifying what's done, we may give as ample Satisfaction as you shall require. If Sickness ' be the Cause of keeping your Daughter at home, let me tell ye, Brother, 'tis too great a Reflection upon us to imagine she shou'dned have due attendance at my House. As I hope to be saved, though you are her Father, you shan't outdo me in this: nor can you be more desirous of her Health than I am; and that for my poor Boys sake, who I perceive loves her more than his life, and am confident will highly resent it, when he comes to know on't; therefore pray let's have her home before he comes back from his Voyage.  Phid. 
I'm satisfied, Brother, of your extraordinary Care and Affection for my Daughter, and am apt to believe every Word 've said; but than I'd ha'ye believe me too, that 'tis my hearty desire to have her to your House, if I could prevail with her by any means.  Lach. 
Why what hinders ye?— Softly. Hark ye, does she object any thing against her Husband?  Phid. 
Nothing in the World; for when I urged it home to her, and seemed as tho' I'd force her to return, she vowed by all that's good, She wasn't able to endure your House, while her Pamphilus was away. Every one has his failings, for my part I'm so softnatured, I can't cross and thwart my own Flesh and Blood.  Lach. 
Die hear that Mistress. Aside to Sostrata.  Sost. 
Ay, to my Sorrow. Aside.  Lach. 
Is that your Resolution then, Brother?  Phid. 
As the Case stands, 'tis so.— But ha' ye any thing else to say? For I've a little business calls me in haste to the Piazza.  Lach. 
I'll bear ye Company if ye please.  
Exeunt Phidippus and Laches.  Sostrata 
alone. In good faith we poor Wives have got a very ill Name with our Husbands, because of a few bad Creatures, that make the World judge hardly of us all. For as I hope for Heaven, I'm as innocent of what my Husband accuses me of as the sucking infant. Yet 'tis next to impossible to be believed, there's such a common Scandal sticks upon all Mothers-in-law: But let me die if I'm one that deserve it; for I've been as tender of this same Creature, as if she had been a Daughter of my own. I can t imagine why this Misfortune should light upon my head. However upon many accounts I am extremely desirous of my Sons return. Exit.  
The End of the Second Act.   

ACT III.  Enter Pamphilus and Parmeno, at the farther end of the Stage. Pam. 
— WAs ever Man so perplexed in his love as I? Unhappy Wretch! Have I been such a good Husband o' my Life for this? Was't this which made me so desirous of returning home? 'thad been better for me to have spent my days any where in the World, than to come back hither, and find myself so unhappy here: For whatever Misfortune befalls a Man, the longer 'tis before he knows it, is so much time clearly gained.  Par. 
However, Sir, by your return, you'll be able the sooner to make yourself easy. Had you stayed away, the Breach would ha' been far wider. Now, Sir, I'm confident that your presence will have a great Influence upon them all. So you'll learn the whole Business, rectify Misunderstandings, and make all Friends again. All these dreadful Apprehensions of yours are in themselves but very slight things.  Pam. 
Why d'ye pretend to comfort me, when I'm the greatest Wretch alive? Before I marry d this Woman, my Heart was engag d elsewhere; how much I suffered upon that account, any one may easily guests, without my telling; and yet I never was the Man that dared to refuse the Match my Father put upon me: I had but just weaned myself from Bacchis, and disengaged my Affections; but just fixed my Love on Philumena; when alas, a new Business happens which forced me to leave her too: Then I'm afraid I shall find either my Mother or Wife to blame; and if so, the Consequence must be, that I shall be miserable still. For Duty, Parmeno, binds me to bear with my Mother's Failings; and for my Wife, I'm a thousand ways obliged to her, not only for meekly bearing with my Humours, but also for concealing my unkind Usage to her from all the World. Certainly, Parmeno, some extraordinary thing must have happened, which gave occasion to this Quarrel that has now lasted so long.  Par. 
Some frivolous thing or other I'll warrant ye, Sir: For upon close examination you'll find that the greatest Quarrels han t always the greatest Occasions. 'tis frequent, Sir, to find the same thing make one Man stark mad, and your mortal Enemy for ever, when it doesned move another. How do Childrenbite and scratch for the smallest Trifles! And why? Marry because their Understandings are weak, and are not able to direct 'em: And your Women truly are even as soon moved as Children; one chance word perhaps or so has been the occasion of all this Disturbance.  Pam. 
Well! go in, Parmeno, and let 'em know I'm here.  Parmeno going off hears a Noise and slops short. Par. 
Ha! What, s here to do.  Pam. 
Is't! Listens  Par. 
Here's a sad Bustle, they run up and down like mad— Pray, Sir, come a little this way.— Pamphilus goes towards him. A little closer yet. They both listen at Phidippus' Door. Ha! die hear, Sir?  Pam. 
Hold your prating.— Shrieking within. Bless me! I hear some body shriek.  Par. 
So, you enjoin me silence, and talk yourself.  Myr. 
within Doors. Prithee dear Child, as little noise as may be.  Pam. 
That's like Philumena's Mother's Voice.— Ruined!  Par. 
Why so.  Pam. 
Undone!  Par. 
Wherefore?  Pam. 
Ah, Parmeno, there is some Mischief more than ordinary has happened, which they conceal from me.  Par. 
They said indeed your Lady was out of order, whether that be it or no, I can't tell.  Pam. 
I'm a lost Man.— Why didn't ye tell me this before? Angrily.  Par. 
I con'dned tell ye every thing at once.  Pam. 
What's her Distemper?  Par. 
That I can't tell.  Pam. 
How! Is no body gone for a Doctor?  Par. 
I can't tell that neither.  Pam. 
But why don't I go in myself, that I may know for certain what's the Business?— Ah my dear Philumena, in what Condition shall I now find thee? Should thy Life be in danger; I shall certainly die with thee. Exit Pamphilus.  Parmeno 
alone. I don't think it convenient to venture in after him: For I very well know, they don't care for any of our Family. Yesterday they shut the Door against my Lady herself. If she should chance to grow worse (which introth I wou'dnt have for my poor Master's sake) they'll presently pretend (a plague on them all) that one of Madam Sostratas Servants came in, brought the Devil along with him, and thereupon that she grew worse immediately: So my Mistress will be blamed? but I shall ha' the worst on't.  The Noise increases within. 
Enter Sostrata on the other side.  Soft. 
to herself. Alas, I think I ve heard a strange sort of a Bustle in my Sister's House, and for some time too. I vow, I'm extremely afraid poor Philumenas' Distemper grows worse and worse: But Heavens forbidden it. Now I'll give her a visit.  She's going in. Par. 
Hark ye, Madam!  Soft. Ha! Par. 
You ll meet with another repulse, Madam.  Soft. 
turning about. Ha', Parmeno! are you there?— Alas poor Wretch! What shall I do? Shan't I go see my Son's Wife, when she lies sick but at next door.  Par. 
If you'd be ruled by me, Madam, neither see her, nor send to see her: For to be fond of one that perfectly hates you seems a double piece of Folly. You'll bestow your labour to no purpose, and be troublesome besides.— Then, Madam your Son went to see how she did, as soon as he came to Town.  Soft. 
How! my Son Pamphilus come ashore?  Par. 
Yes, Madam.  Sost. 
Heavens be praised.— That word has revived me, and set my Heart at rest.  Par. 
Upo' this account especially, I would'nt ha' ye go in: For if her Pains be a little abated, I'm confident, now they're together, she'll up and tell him all that passed between you two; and how the Difference first begun— But see where he comes.— He seems very melancholy upon't.  
Enter Pamphilus.  Soft. 
Ah, my Dear, dear Child! Embracing him.  Pam. 
Your Blessing, Madam.  Sost. 
Welcome home hearty.— But how is't with your Wife?  Pam. 
O' the mending hand— Wiping his Eyes.  Sost. 
Heavens continue it so.— But why in tears Son? Why thus melancholy.  Pam. 
Nothing at all, Madam.  Sost. 
What Bustle was that? tell me: Was she taken with a sudden Fit?  Pam. 
Yes Madam.  Sost. 
What's her Distemper?  Pam. 
An Ague.  Sost. 
A Quotidian?  Pam. 
So they tell me.— Pray, Madam, walk in, I'll follow immediately.  Sost. 
So I will. Exit Sostrata.  Pam. 
Parmeno, do you run and meet my Servants, and help them home with their Luggage.  Par. 
grumbling. What aduce can't they find the way home without a Guide?  Pam. 
You ll be gone won't ye? Exit Parmeno  Pamphilus alone walking about discontentedly. 
Where shall I begin now, to give an account of those many surprising Misfortunes that ha' befallen me? Part of which I heard, and part I saw with these very eyes; which made me run out of the House half distracted.— For when I hastily went in just now, in great concern for my Wife (thinking to find her sick of anothergates Distemper than what, alas! I found her in:) The Maids being surprised at first sight all of 'em o're-joyd, cried out, Hes come: But immediately after I perceived they changed Countenance, because I happened to come at such an unlucky Minute: mean time one of 'em ran up Stairs to give notice of my Arrival; and I, as eager to see my Wife, follow her directly. No sooner was I got in, but immediately I perceived her Ailment, unhappy Creature as I was: For they had no time i'th' World to conceal the business, for her Cry out did sufficiently discover her Condition. When I saw this, Base and unworthy, said I! And with that immediately fling out of the Room all in Tears, struck with Horror at such an unheard of dismal Accident. Her Mother, poor Soul, followed me close, catched me at the Door, and fling herself at my Feet, melting into Tears: so that I could not but pity her: And truly, I'm of Opinion, as a Man's Fortune rises or falls so is he up or down. She thus addressed herself to me: My dear Pamphilus, you're an Eye-witness now of the Cause that made this unhappy Creature leave your House: She was ravished sometime since by an unknown Villain; and is now fled hither to hid her shame from you and the World. He wipes his Eyes. But alas! the very Remembrance of her earnest Entreaties makes me melt afresh.— Whatsoever Chance or Fortune (continu d she) has brought you hither at this juncture, by that we both conjure ye (if we may in Equity and Justice presume so far) to bury and conceal this Mischance from the Eye of the World. If ever (dear Pamphilus!) if ever you were sensible that she had any Tenderness for ye, in requital she begs ye not to think that small Favour too much to grant her. As for taking her again, use your own discretion. You're the only Person that knows of her Lying in, and that the Child is none of yours: For they say you had nothing to do with her the first two Months; and after you had, 'tis now seven and no more. Your Behaviour shows what your thoughts are about it: Now, if it be possible (my Dear!) I wish and endeavour nothing more than that her Lying in may be kept from her Father, and every Soul besides: But should it come out, it shall go for a Miscarriage, I know none will think otherwise; but, what is most likely, will suppose you the Father of it. The Child shall immediately be exposed, and you ne'er the worse for't; and by this means you can suffer no inconvenience, and secure the poor Girls Reputation besides.— I passed my Word, and am resolved to keep it: But for taking her again, I think it no ways for my Honour, nor will I do it; though her Love and Conversation have a very great Influence o'er me.— I can't but weep to think what a melancholy Life I must lead for the future— Weeps. O Fortune, Fortune, what a changeable thing thou art! But my first Love has enured me to this usage; I conquered that by reason, and how I must endeavour to do the like—  
Enter Parmeno, Socia, and Porters at a great distance with Trunks, Portmantaus, etc.  
But yonder comes Parmeno with the rest, there's no occasion for him to be hereabouts at this time; for he's the only Person I made privy to my Behaviour to my Wife, when we first married. I fear should he hear her frequent Shrieks, he'll discover her to be in Labour: I must even send him on some Errand or other till all's over.  Par. 
to Socia. Say so? Had ye such a wretched Voyage on't? Ha!  Soc. 
In sober Sadness, Parmeno, 'tisn't possible to tell thee what a dismal thing 'tis to be a Shipboard.  Par. 
Indeed?  Soc. 
Troth thou'rt a happy Fellow, little dost thou know what dangers thou escapest by keeping always on dry ground. To pass over other Hardships, mark but this: Thirty long Days and Nights or more, was I on Shipboard; expecting every minute to be soused to the bottom of the Sea, 'twas such plaguy stormy weather all the time, and the Wind against us.  Par. 
Abominable!  Soc. 
So indeed I found it: In short, if I knew I must go back, rather than do't, upon my Soul I'd show 'em a light pair of Heels for't.  Par. 
Ay, old Boy, thou'st been ready for that sport upon slighter occasions than this:— But hold, yonder's my Master Pamphilus before that Door,— Go all in, and I'll step to him, and see if he has any business wi' me.  
Exeunt Socia and Porters.  
Parmeno goes to Pamphilus.  Par. 
Are you here still, Sir.  Pam. 
Yes, I stay for you.  Par. 
What's your Pleasure?  Pam. 
You must run as far as the Tower.  Par. 
Who must?  Pam. 
You must.  Par. 
As far as the Tower? For what pray, Sir?  Pam. 
To find out one Callidemides my Landlord of Myconia, who came over in the same Vessel wi' me.  Par. 
'Sdeath! I'll be sworn this Master o'mine has made a Vow, that if e'er he got ashore, he'd make me run my heart out. Aside.  Pam. 
Why don't ye stir?  Par. 
Must I say any thing to him, or must I only give him the meeting?  Pam. 
Tell him I can't meet him to day as I appointed, that he mayn't stay to no purpose,— Fly.  Par. 
But Sir, I don't know what manner of Man he is.  Pam. 
I'll tell ye how to know him presently.— He's a huge, fiery-faced, frizzled-crowned fat Fellow, with wall-eyes, and looks as if he'd fright ye.  Par. 
aside. Plague on him for a Son of Wh 〈…〉 Going off turns back. But suppose he bened there, must I stay till Night for him?  Pam. 
Ay, ay: Run Sirrah.  Par. 
I beg your Pardon for that, I'm quite foundered already. Exit Hobbling.  
Pamphilus alone.  
He's gone,— Now what course shall poor I take?— I'm at a strange loss how to conceal Philumenas' lying in, as her Mother desired me. I profess, I can't but pity the poor Woman. Ill do what I can, but still I'll discharge my Duty to my Parents, for my Love must give way to my Obedience.  
Enter Laches and Phidippus at some distance  
But lack-a-day there's my Father and Mr. Phidippus together,— They make this way too.— I can't devise what to say 'em.  Lach. 
to Phidippus. Didn't ye tell me just now that your Daughter only waited for my Sons coming home.  Phid. 
Yes.  Lach. 
I hear he's come, let her be brought home then.  Pam. 
to himself. I can't imagine what excuse to make to my Father for not taking her home again—  Lach. 
overhearing. What Voice is that?  Pam. 
to himself. Yet I'm fully resolved to keep firm to my first design.  Lach. 
O here's the Man we were talking of.  Pam. 
Your Blessing, Sir.  Lach. 
I'm glad to see thee.  Phid. 
Welcome home, Pamphilus; I'm also glad to see ye so sound and lusty after your Voyage.  Pam. 
In obliged to ye Sir.  Lach. 
Are ye but just landed, Son?  Pam. 
Just now, Sir.  Lach. 
Well! and what has our Kinsman Phanie left us? Ha!  Pam. 
Wh 〈…〉 really, Sir, he was a Man given up to his Pleasures in his Life-time, and such as he seldom leave much to their Heirs: However they leave this Commendation behind 'em, that as long as they lived, they lived like Gentlemen.  Lach. 
Then thou hast brought home nothing but that pretty Sentence instead of an Estate.  Pam. 
That little he has left, may do us some kindness.  Lach. 
Ah! none at all.— I wish hearty he were alive and in health again.  Phid. 
You may safely wish that: He's past wishing for.— I dare swear I know which you'd choose. Aside.  Lach. 
to Pamphilus. Yesterday my Brother here sent to desire his Daughter might come to his House.— Say you did.  
Aside to Phidip pus thrusting him.  Phid. 
softly to Laches. Don, t punch me so.— So I did.— [Aloud to Pamphilus.  Lach. 
But now he'll send her home again.  Phid. 
So I will.  Pam. 
Sir, I know the whole business, how every thing has been managed since I went. I heard the whole Story as soon as e'er I arrived.  Lach. 
Hang those envious Devils, that were so officious as to tell it ye. In a passion.  Pam. 
In sure I took all possible care to avoid giving any of ye the least offence: And had I● mind to't, I could here tell ye how faithful, loving, and kind I've been to her; but I had rather ye should hear't from her own Mouth: For by that means you ll the sooner believe my good Nature, when the Relation comes from her that at present is so unkind to me. Heavens my witness, I had no hand at all in this Difference: But since she thinks herself too good to stoop to my Mother, when Modesty might ha' taught her t'have born with her Humour; and since there's no other way of composing the Difference, I must e'en part with either one or the other. But now, Mr. Phidippus, Filial Duty obliges me to take my Mother's part before my Wives.  Lach. 
I am not displeased, Pamphilus, to find ye so ready to sacrifice all to the Interests of your Parents: But have a care you doubt engage too far in this Quarrel.  Pam. 
How can I engage myself in a Quarrel against her, that never disobligd me in any thing, but on the contrary has obliged me in many things? I love her, honour her, and still desire with all my Soul to keep her: For I've always found her of a wonderful sweet Temper towards me; therefore I wish with all my Heart she may spend the remainder of her days with a more fortunate Husband than me; since mere necessity tears her from me.  Phid. 
'Tis in your own power to hinder that.  Lach. 
Take her home again, if you be wise. Angrily.  Pam. 
That's not my intention, Sir. I must now consult my Mother's Interest. Exit Pamphilus.  Lach. 
Whether now?— Stay, stay, I say.— Where are ye going?  Phid. 
What Whim's this?  Surlily. Lach. 
I told ye, Brother, how highly he'd resent this; and therefore begged of ye to send home your Daughter in time.  Phid. 
'Sbud I didn't think he had been such a Churl. Does he think Ill go cringing with Cap in Hand to him? If he's disposed to take home his Wife, well and good; if not, let him refund her Portion, pack off, and a F— for him.  In a huff. Lach. 
Look ye now; you're in as great a Fume as he.  Phid. 
Pamphilus, You're grown mighty huffish methinks after your Voyage.—  Lach. 
His anger will soon be over, though indeed he had some cause.  Phid. 
Because forsooth 've got a little more Pelf fallen to ye, you swell so much upon't.  Lach. 
What? You'll fall out wi'me too?  Phid. 
Let him consider on't, and tell me to day, whether he'll have her or no; that if he won't another may. Exit in a huff.  Laches 
alone.  
Stay Brother, hear me but one word.— He's gone:— But what's this to me? In short, let 'em order their Matters as they please for me, since neither Brother nor Son will hear Reason, nor mind one Word I say, Ill turn all my Forces upo' my Wife, the Promoter of all this Mischief, and discharge all that sticks in my Stomach upon her.  
Exit Laches, and as he goes off.  Myrrhina Enter in disorder. 
I'm ruined! What shall I do?— Which way shall I turn myself?— Alas! What answer can I give my Husband? I'm persuaded he heard the Child cry, which made him run so hastily into my Daughter's Chamber, without saying a word. Should he find that she's in Labour, I vow I can't devise what excuse to invent for the concealing of it.— The Door goes,— I'm afraid hes upo'the Scent after me.— I'm no Woman of this World.  
Enter Phidippus.  Phid. 
entering. As soon as my Wife perceived I was going into my Daughter's Chamber, away she slunk out o' doors— But here she is tho.— How now Wife?— She seems not to see him. Hark ye, 'tis you I speak to.  Myr. 
Meaning me, my dear Husband?  Phid. 
I your Husband? D'ye regard me as a Husband, or so much as a Man? For had ye esteemed me either one or t'other (Gentlewoman!) you darened ha' made me such a public Scorn by your baseness.  Myr. 
By what baseness?  Phid. 
By what?— Isn't your Daughter brought to bed?— Ha! are ye Tongue-tyd now?— Who's the Father pray?  Myr. 
Is that a Question for a Father to ask?— Dear Heart, who d'ye think should be but her own Husband?  Phid. 
I believe it, nor is it for a Father to think otherwise: But I'm amazed why ye should so carefully keep all in hugger-mugger from us, especially when she was delivered at her full time, and all things were as they should be. Could ye be so damnably malicious, as to wish the poor Child's Death; which you knew would be the occasion of a more lasting Friendship between us, rather than suffer Man and Wife to live together contrary to your cross-grained Humour.— I took it to be wholly their fault, but now I find 'tis all long of you.  Myr. 
In a miserable Creature.  Phid. 
Would I were sure o' that— It now comes fresh into my mind, what you formerly said on this subject, when the Match was first made. You professed forsooth, that you couldn't away with a Son-in-law that kept his Wenches, and lay abroad whole Nights together.  Myr. 
I had rather he should suspect any thing i'th' world, than guess at the true Cause. Aside.  Phid. 
I knew that he kept a Mistress (Madam Wife!) long before you did: But I never counted that such a mighty fault in a young Man; for 'tis what we are all born with, but the time will quickly come when he'll hate himself for't: But you I see are still the same, and could ne'er be at quiet till you had parted 'em, and nulled the Marriage, 'cause 'twas of my making. Now 'tis plain how rarely you stood affected to the Match.  Myr. 
Can ye suppose me so base and cruel to my own Flesh and Blood, if this Match had been to our advantag?  Phid. 
Pish! You able to foresee or judge what's to our advantage? May be some body informed informed you that they saw him going to or coming from his Mistress. And what of all that, if he did it privately, and but seldom? Isn't it more handsome for us to wink at such flailing, than blaze 'em abroad and get nothing but ill will to ourselves by the bargain? For could he so suddenly draw his Affections from one he has loved so many years, I should'nt count him a man, nor think him half staunch and constant enough for my Daughter.  Myr. 
Good Husband, no more of the young man; nor of my pretended faults neither: Go and meet him privately, and ask him whether he'll take home his wife or no: If he says yes, send her away, if not, I think I've taken a wise course with my Daughter.  Phid. 
If he would'nt receive her, and you knew him in fault, Wife; I wasn't far off, pray why wasn't I consulted; withal? This mads me to the Heart, to find that ye dare do such a thing without my leave. I charge ye upon your Life, not to let the Child stir out of the House.— But what a Blockhead am I to think she'll mind what I say? I'll go in myself, and strictly charge my Servants, to let no body carry it away. Exit Phidippus.  Myrrhina 
alone.  
Let me die if I don't believe I'm th' unhappiest Woman i'th' world: In good truth, I plainly foresee how extremely ill he'll take it if he knew all, since he's so very angry for that little he does know; nor can I imagine how to alter his Resolution.— And this is the only Evil that could ha' befallen me after all my other Disasters, if I should be forced to bring up a Child we don't know the Father of. For when my Daughter was ravished, 'twas so dark she couldn't discern his Face, nor yet get any Token from him, whereby to discover him afterwards 〈◊〉 only when the Fellow left her, he forced a Ring off her Finger. Upon the whole matter I'm strangely afraid Mr. Pamphilus, when he comes to hear we bring up another Man's Child instead of his, will no longer conceal what we desired him to keep private. Exit Myrrhina.  
The end of the Third Act.   

ACT IU.  
Enter Sostrata and Pamphilus; Laches comes to the Door and observes 'em.  Sost. 
entering. I Know well enough, Pamphilus, you suspect 'twas long of my humours that your Wife left us, dissemble the matter as much as ye please: but may I never obtain Mercy, no enjoy that Comfort from ye I expect, if e'er to my knowledge I did any thing that should give her any disgust against me. I always believed you respected me, but now you ha' given certain proof of it: for your Father has been telling me within, how far you prefer my Reputation to your Love. And now I design to return ye the like Compliment, and let ye know how highly I esteem such Dutifulness. I believe, my dear Son, 'twill be better for both your Satisfaction and my Reputation, if I retire into the Country with your Father, as I've fully resolved, so my presence will be no Eyesore to ye, nor any pretence for your Wife's staying away.  Pam. 
Pray, Madam, what d'ye mean by this? Shall her silly Freaks drive you into the Country? It must not be; nor can I endure to have the envious world say, 'Twas done through my wilfulness, and not your good Nature: Besides, I would'nt for e'er so much ha'ye upon my account, banished the Enjoyment of your Friends, Relations, and all the Diversions of the Town.  Sost. 
Truly Son, I've now but little relish of these Enjoyments. Time was indeed when I had my fill of'em; but now I'm quite weary of those Gamhals. At present my chief care is to keep my Age from being a burden to others, that so they mayn't wish for my end▪ Here I find I'm despised without cause, and 'tis time to retreat: By this means I fancy, I shall cut off all cause of Discontent, clear myself of hard Suspicions, and homour 'em all: Therefore pray let me avoid those Scandals we Women generally lie under.  Pam. 
How happy am I upon all accounts, were it not for this; since I ha' such a Mother and such a Wife! Aside  Sost. 
Good, dear Boy, as the Case stands, try to make shift with one inconveniency. If other things go according to your mind▪ and your Wife is as I take her to be, grant me this one request, my Child, and have her home.  Pam. 
Ah! I'm very unhappy.  Sost. 
And I too: For I'm as much concerned at it● as you can be, my dear Child, for the Soul of ye.  
Laches appears, and goes up to 'em.  Lach. 
So Wife, I overheard all your discourse just by here. 'Tis Policy to comply freely with the Occasion, when you know force would follow else.  Sost. 
May it succeed well.  Lach. 
March into the Country then, and there we'll both bear with one another's humours.  Sost. 
I hope we shall.  Lach. 
Go in then, and pack up what things you'll have occasion for.— I'm fixed.  Sost. 
I shall obey your Orders. Exit Sostrata.  Pam. 
But, Sir!— Concernedly  Lach. 
Well, Pamphilus.  Pam. 
Will ye send my Mother into the Country? By no means.  Lach. 
Why not?  Pam. 
Because, Sir, as yet I'm not resolved what to do with my Wife  Lach. 
How! What should ye do but take her home again?  Pam. 
aside. That I would with all my Heart, and can hardly persuade myself not to do't: But I●●● not break one ●ot o' my measure, but even take that course I think most convenient.—— To Laches. I presume, Sir, they'll be better Friends, if she stays where she is.  Lach. 
That's more than you know: However 'tisn't a Pin matter to you whether they be Friends or Foes, when once your Mother's out o' the way. The truth on't is, we old Folks are no good Company to you young ones; and therefore we had even as good go our way. In short, Pamphilus, your Mother and I are become bywords t'ye, The old Man, and the old Woman.—— But yonder comes my Brother i'th' Critical minute. Let's give him the meeting.  
Enter Phidippus on the other side of the Stage; Laches moves towards him.  Phid. 
to Philumena within. Troth Daughter, I'm angry with you, and very much too, for in sober Sadness 'twas a very scurvy trick; tho' your Mother's forcing ye be your pretence, yet I'm sure she had no such excuse.  Lac. 
O Brother, you're come at the best time i'th' World.  Phid. 
Why so?  Pam. 
What answer shall I give 'em, or how be able to keep this Secret! Aside  Lach 
You may tell your Daughter, my Wife's going into the Country, so she needned be afraid to come home to her Husband.  Phid. 
Poh! Your Wife's innocent of all; 'tis my Wife that's the Broacher of all this,—  Pam. 
Nay, than the Case is altered. Aside  Phid. 
— And has caused all this ado, Mr. Laches  Pam. 
Let 'em cause what ado they please, so I don't take her home again. Aside.  Phid. 
Now Pamphilus I wish nothing more, if it can be brought about than that there may be a lasting Alliance between us. If you are of another mind, pray take the Child however.  Pam. 
He knows o' that too: I'm past all hope  Aside Lach. 
The Child? Prithee what Child? Hastily.  Phid. 
Why we have a Grandson, Brother. For my Daughter when she left your House, was big it seems; and I ne'er so much as knew of her breeding till now.  Lach. 
Good, introth, as I'm an honest Man; I'm hearty glad 'tis born, and your Daughter well.— But what a strange sort of a Woman is your wife Pam? what odd kind of Fancies she has about her, so long to keep things in the dark from us? I vow I can't say how unhandsome it looks.  Phid. 
Truly, Brother, I'm as little pleased at the proceed as you.  Pam. 
My mind was in suspense before, but now 'tis fixed; since she's to bring a Brat with her that's none o' mine. Aside.  Lach. 
Come, come, Pam, 'tis too late to stand shally, shally.—  Pam. 
I'm ruined,— Aside.  Lach. 
I've often wished for that happy day of having one to call you Father. 'Tis come at last, Heavens be praised.—  Pam. 
— Beyond Redemption. Aside.  Lach. 
— Take home your Wife, without any more grumbling.  Pam. 
Truly, Sir, had she been minded t'have had Children by me, or t'have been still my Wife, I'm certain she'd ne'er ha' concealed what I understand she has. Now, since I plainly see she has withdrawn her Love from me, I don't believe we shall ever agree well hereafter: why then should I take her again?  Lach. 
Poh! the young Girl did all by the Mother's Persuasion; and is that such a strange thing? D'ye expect to find any woman i'th' World without their Faults? Han't Men their Failings too.  Phid. 
Well! Look to't yourselves both of ye, whether ye think to have her or leave her: I can't answer for all that my foolish Wife does: For my own part, do what you will, you shan't find me unreasonable on either side: Mean time what shall we do wi' the Child?  Lach. 
A wise Query, introth! Let the Business go which way it will send the Child hither, since 'tis his, that we may nurse it as ours.  Pam. 
Shall I bring up that Child that the Mother takes no care of?  Lach. 
What's that you say? Not bring it up, Pamphilus? Good-now shall we make away with●t?— Why this is downright madness: Upo' my Life I can hold no longer. Now you force me to say what I would'nt have said before your Father-in-Law. Pamphilus weeps.— D'ye think I don't know what all this snivelling, and what all this Disorder means?— In another tone. First ye pretended, You couldn't have her home because of your Mother; She promises to leave the whole House to yourselves: Since that Excuse won't hold good now, forsooth, The Child's born without your Knowledge. You're mightily mistaken if ye think I don't know what you hanker after: How long did I wink at your keeping a Miss, in hopes at last of bringing ye over to a Wife? How patiently did I bear your lavish Expenses that way? I plied ye, I entreated ye to marry; told ye 'twas high time, and by much persuasion, you did. Then you obeyed me, as your Duty obliged ye to do: But now you're in with your Whore again; and to pleasure her, will ruin your Wife, I plainly see you're relapsing into your old course of Debaucheries.  Angrily. Pam. 
Who I, Sir?  Lach. 
Yes you; and let me tell ye 'tis base to invent shams, to quarrel with your Wife, that when once she's out of sight, you may the better live with your Strumpet. Your Wife was sensible o' this; or what reason had she to leave the house else?  Phid. 
He has hit upon't; certainly that's the reason.  Pam. 
If you please, Sir, I'll give it upon Oath, that 'tis nothing so as you imagine.  Lach. 
For shame, take home your Wife then, or give us a better reason why you won't.  Pam. 
'Tisned convenient at this time.  Lach. 
Take care o' the Child then: that I hope is in no fault: We'll consider o'th' Mother afterwards.  Pam. 
walking on one side. I'm miserable on all sides: My Father has so woefully graveled me, that I can't tell how to turn myself.— I'll even step out o' the way since I shall do but little good by my being here. I believe, they'll hardly bring up the Child without my order, especial since my Mother-in-Law will second me in the thing.  Aside. 
Pamphilus steal's off.  Lach. 
D'ye steal away? What? Give us no direct Answer?— D'ye think he isn't crack-brained?— Well! 'tis no matter, Brother, send the Child to me and I'll bring him up.  Phid. 
With all my Heart.— I don't wonder if his Wife beened pleased with these fine do; women are fretful Pieces, and can't away with such Affronts. This is the cause o' their Quarrel; my wife told me on't herself, but I would'nt mention it before him, nor would I believe it at first; but now tisas clear as the Sun; I perceive now he's a downright Marriage-hater.  Lach. 
What should I do i'th' Case? what would ye advise me to?  Phid. 
What? why, first I think 'tis best for us to go to his Miss: Let us first discourse her calmly, then charge her home; and if that won't do, let us threaten her severely, if ever she has any thing more to do with your Son.  Lach. 
I'll follow your Advice.— Goes towards his own House. Soho within there.—  Enter a Boy. 
Step over to my Neighbour Bacchis; and tell her I'd speak with her presently.— Ex. Boy.  
And I mnst desire you, Brother, to stand by me in this business.  Phid. 
Ah, Sir, I've often told ye; and am still o' the same mind, that I desire nothing so much as that the Alliance between us may be lasting, if it be possible to bring it about; and I hope we shall do't.— But would ye ha' me here when she comes?  Bach. 
No; you may go and provide a good Nurse for the Child. Exit Phidippus. Enter Bacchis on the other side of the Stage, with two Waiting-maids, and Laches ' s Boy.  Bac. 
entering. I'll be sworn 'tis no small matter, that makas Mr. Laches send to speak widow me now. But introth, I'm mightily mistaken if I don't guests ●● the business.  Lach 
to himself I must take special care, that my Passion don't hinder me from gaining upon her according as I wish; nor make me do that in haste, which I may repent at leisure.— I'll accost her,— Mrs. Bacchis your Servant.  Bac. 
Yours, good Mr. Laches.  Exit Boy. Lach. 
Troth, I don't question but you somewhat wonder, why I sent to speak with ye  Bac. 
And really when I consider myself, I am afraid lest the Scandal of my Trade should be to my prejudice; for as to my behaviour in it, I defy the World—  Lach. 
If it be so; 've not reason to be afraict o' me, Woman; for I'm of those Years that a false Step is not so easily pardonable in me; therefore am the more cautious to do nothing rashly. If both now and ever you do what ye can justify, 'twould be very unhandsome in me to do ye any injury, and very unjust since ye don't deserve it.  Bac. 
Upo' my word I'm extremely obliged to ye for that: For after an injury's done, begging of one's Pardon is but small amends.— But pray, Sir, your Pleasure.  Lach. 
I hear you entertain my Son Pamphilus.— Bac. interruptirg. Sir,—  Lach. 
Hear me out.— Before he married, I winked at your Amours.— Here Bacchis is going to speak.— Hold! I han't spoke all my mind yet.— Now he's married, you'd do well to look out a more constant Lover in time. For Pamphilus will not always ha' the same Inclinations, nor troth you the same Beauty.  Bac. 
Pray, Sir, who reports this?  Lach. 
His Mother-in-Law.  Bac. 
That I entertain him?  Lach. 
Yes, you: For that reason has she taken home her Daughter, and would privately ha' made away with the Child she has by him.  Bach. 
Sir, If I knew any thing more Sacred than an Oath to convince ye, I'd freely offer it t'ye, that I had never any thing to do with your Son, since he married.  Lach. 
Thou art a dainty fine girl! But can ye guests what further Favour I'd desire of ye?  Bac. 
What is it, good Sir?  Lach. 
Only to step just in there, Pointing to Phidippuss House and offer the Women within upon Oath to satisfy them, and clear yourself of all.  Bacch. 
I'll obey you, Sir: but in good earnest; there's never a one in my Circumstances would ha' done't, or shown her face before a young married woman upon such an account: but I scorn to see your Son scandalised upon a false story, or be undeservedly thought inconstant by such as should have a better opinion of him. He has done me many a good turn, and now I'll do him one.  Lach. 
Your smooth Tongue has made me conceive a more favourable opinion of ye; for twasned only their Surmises, but I thought as bad of ye myself too.— Since I've now found ye otherwise than we took ye to be, pray see that you prove still the same, and you may find a Friend of me: but if ye don't,— Well, I say no more for fear of disobliging ye.— This I'll advise ye, that you'd rather try what I can do as your Friend, than as your Enemy.  Bac. 
I'll do my best, Sir, to satisfy ye.  
Enter at a distance Phidippus with a Nurse.  Phid. 
to the Nurse. I won't see ye want any thing, but you shall ha' freely what my House will afford; but when 've eat and drank sufficiently, pray let the Child suck its bellyful. Ex. Nurse.  Lach. 
See, there comes our Son's Father-in-law: He has got him a Nurse for the Child.— Brother! here's Mrs. Bacchis swears by all the Gods.—  Phid. 
Is that she?  Bach. 
Yes.  Phid. 
Troth, these sort of Creatures care little for the Gods, and the Gods as little for them.  Bac. 
Take my Servants here, rack the truth out of 'em if ye please. The business is now on foot, and I'm obliged to reconcile Mr. Pamphilus and his Lady; which if I do, I shall get me Credit enough by being the only Person of my Profession, that would have undertaken such a Business.  Lach. 
to Phidippus walking on one side. I find upon Examinati a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Vives were mightily, out in their Conjectures: However let's make use o' this Woman now, for when your Wife once perceives her mistake, she'll quickly be pacified; but if Pamphilus be angry 'cause his Wife was brought to Bed privately, that's a trifle, he'll soon be satisfied: And E'dad I can see nothing in'is business that's worth falling out about.  Phid. 
Troth, would it were so as you say.  Lach. 
Examine her yourself, since she's here, she'll satisfy ye, I'll engage for't.  Phid. 
What need all this? Don't ye know my Mind already in'is Matter? Let her but satisfy the Women and I'm content.  Lach 
goes to Bacchis. Troth, Mrs. Bacchis, I I must desire ye to be as good as your word to me.  Bac. 
Would ye have me go in, Sir, about this business.  Lach. 
Yes; and satisfy them, that they may believe it too.  Bac. 
I will, Sir; but I am sure to be no welcome Guest there; For a young Woman, parted from her Husband upo' this account, is a mortal Enemy to a Courtesan.  Bach. 
They'll be your Friends, when once they know on what Errand you are come.  Phid. 
I'll pass my word for that too, when they come to know your business: For you'll clear them of a Mistake, and yourself of all Suspicion.  Bac. 
Alack-a-day, I'm so ashamed to look Madam Philumena i'th' Face.— To her Maids. Come both of ye after me.  
Exeunt Phidippus, Bacchis, with her two Maids.  Laches alone. 
What could I have wished for more than what has happened to this Woman, that she might procure herself Friends without costing her any thing, and do me a kindness into the Bargain: For if in reality she has withdrawn herself from Pamphilus, it will be very much to her Interest, Reputation and immortal Honour. For this one Act will for ever oblige my Son, and gain her our Friendship.  
Exit Laches.  
The End of the Fourth Act.   

ACT V.  Parmeno Enter at a distance. 
O' my Conscience this Master o' mine counts my labour worth nothing; he would'nt else ha'send me thus upon a Fool's Errand as far as the Tower; where I've loitered away a whole day in gaping for Callidemides, the Myconian Friend. There did I sit all day like a Simpleton, ask every body that came by, Pray, Sir, said I, are you a Myconian? No; says he. Is your name Callidemides? quoth I. No, quoth he: Are you acquainted with one Mr. Pamphilus? All answered i'th' Negative. O' my Soul there's no such Man in the World. Faith, at last I was damnably out of Countenance, and fairly slunk away.—  
Enter Bacchis and her Maid  
But what's the meaning of Bacchis' coming out of our Father-in-Law's? What has she to do there?  Bac. 
O Parmeno! You couldn't come in a better time. You must run for your Master Pamphilus in all haste.  Par. 
What for?  Bac. 
Tell him, I'd pray him to step hither a little.  Par. 
To you, Madam?  Bac. 
No; to his Lady.  Par. 
What's to do there?  Bac. 
Nothing about you; therefore don't be so inquisitive.  Par. 
Must I say nothing else?  Bac. 
Yes; tell him that Madam Myrrhina challenges the Ring he formerly gay me, and says 'twas her Daughters.  Par. 
I understand ye: Does the business require su●ch haste?  Bac. 
Yes, indeed: He'll be here in a trice, when you tell him of it.— What are you asleep?  Par. 
Not in the least; nor I suppose an't like to day; for I ha' spent it already in running and trapesing all o'er the Town. Exit.  Bacchis 
alone.  
What great satisfaction has my coming procured Mr. Pamphilus to day? How many Blessings have I brought him? And how many troubles have I freed him from? I have saved him a Son, which his Wife, his Mother, and he were thinking to make away with; recovered him a Loving Wife, whom he was just upon casting off, and cleared him from the unjust Suspicions of both his Fathers— This is the Ring Showing a Ring on her Hand. That has procured him all this good Fortune. For now I remember about nine months ago, he comes one Evening alone to my House, much out of Breath, and much in Drink: It almost put me into a Fit; Prithee my dear Pam (said I) for Love's sake, why so strangely disordered? Where got ye this Ring? Prithee tell me. He pretended to mind something else? at that I grew more suspicious, and urged him to tell me: At last my Gentleman confesses, That coming along the Street he had forced a young Woman he knew not; and in struggling took the Ring from her. Myrrhina spied it just now on my Finger, and asked me how I came by't? I told her the whole Story; upon which out came the Discovery, that Philumena was the Party he made bold with, and this the Child he got.— Introth I'm glad I should be the occasion of so much Joy to him, tho' others of my Trade would never ha' been so; for it never makes for our Interest to have our Sparks fond of Matrimony: But upon my Honesty, the smell of a little Pelf shall never make me to do a base thing. Indeed, I had a very free, jolly, pleasant Spark of him, whilst it was allowable; and this Match happened ill for me, I must needs say: But my comfort is, I've done nothing, that I know of, to deserve so great a Misfortune▪ 'Tis but Justice to bear some Inconveniences from him, that has been so good a Friend to me.  Pater 
Pamphilus and Parmeno at a distance.  Pam. 
to Parmeno.— Good Parmeno, have a care you give a clear and evident Proof of this Business; and that you don't, only for a moment, make me believe myself extremely happy.  Par. 
That Care's over.  Pam. 
For certain?  Par. 
Yes, for certain.  Pam. 
I'm in Heaven if it be so.  Par. 
You'll find it so, I'll warrant ye.  Pam. 
Prithee, not so fast.— I'm afraid you tell me one thing, and I think 'tis another.  Par. 
Well, Sir.  Pam. 
I think you told me that my Mother Myrrhina discovered her own Ring upon Bacchis' Finger—  Par. 
Right.  Pam. 
— And the very same I formerly presented to her; and 'twas she bade ye run, and tell me on't▪ Wasn't it?  Par. 
Yes, she did.  Pam. 
Who alive then is a happier and finer Fellow than I? what reward must I bestow on thee for this kind Message? what shall I? what? ● can't imagine.  Par. 
But I can, Sir.  Pam. 
Prithee what?  Par. 
Just nothing at all: For I can't see any thing either in the Message or Messenger that will turn to your Advantage.  Pam. 
Shall I suffer thee to go unrewarded, that hast rescued me from the Jaws of Death, and brought me to Life again? Surely thou canst not think me so ungrateful.— But hold! there walks Bacchis before their Door, waiting for me I fancy.— I'll go to her.  
Pamphilus goes up to Bacchis, Parmeno keeps his distance.  Bac. 
Mr. Pamphilus, your Servant.  Pam. 
Bacchis! My sweet Bacchis! Thou hast made me my Dear!  Bac. 
There's good News for you, Sir, and I'm hearty glad on't.  Pam. 
Your Actions speak it.— I see you are still Mistress of your old pleasant way, so that your Presence, Discourse, and Conversation will always be charming, wherever you go  Bac. 
And you, Sir, as I hope for Mercy, are still Master of your old sweet Temper, and pleasant Humour: The World can't show a more accomplished Gentleman than you, Mr. Pamphilus.  Pam. 
Ha'— Ha'— He— This to me Bacchis?  Bac. 
You have made an excellent choice of a Wife, Mr. Pamphilus; I never, that I know of, saw her till now: I●vow, she's a lovely Creature.  Pam. 
Are ye in earnest?  Bac. 
Let me perish, Sir, if I bened.  Pam. 
But pray did ye tell my Father any thing of this business.  Bac. 
Not a word.  Pam. 
Nor need ye, not so much as a Syllable: I don't desire this should prove like a Comedy ' where the whole Plot is discovered to every Body. Here only those that should, know all; but those that should not, know nothing, but shall ● lll be i'th' dark.  Bac. 
Nay more, I'll give a further Argument how easy 'tis to conceal it, for Madam Myrrhina told her Husband, she was satisfied with my Depositions, and believed You innocent.  Pam. 
Best of all: I hope all things will succeed according to our wishes  
Par. comes behind and plucks his master.) Pray, Sir, mayn't I know what good Office I've done ye to day? and what you two are debating upon?  Pam. 
No Sirrah  Par. 
But I guess tho.— I rescue him from the Jaws of Death? How did I do that? Aside.  Pam. 
Little dost thou think, Parmeno, what a piece of Service thou'st done me to day; and from what Troubles thou hast freed me.  Par. 
Your Pardon for that, Sir, I know't well enough, and did it on purpose. Fawningly.  Pam. 
So I fancy.  Par. 
D'ye think poor Parmeno shall let a day go over his Head without obliging his Friends?  Pam. 
Come on then honest Parmeno.  Par. 
I'll follow ye, Sir  
Exeunt Pamphilus and Bacchis with her Maids.  He turns to the Spectators. 
By my Soul, Gentlemen, I've done more good to day, without knowing it, than ever I did designedly in all my Life.— I hope we ha' pleased ye. Exit.   
The End of the Mother-in-Law.   

REMARKS UPON Terence's Comedies.  

Remarks upon the Fair Andrian.  

ACT I.  
PAg. 1. Lin 5, 6. You'd ha' care taken of these things.] Nempe ut curentur recte haec. The word Curentur is by some thought to be a Term proper to Cookery; but where Authors differ, in this as also in other places, we make use of general Words to avoid Errors.  
Pag. 3. Lin. 27. The Fools noosed, he is smitten.]  captus est, habet Thus is an Allusion to the constant Phrase of the Gladiators, and consequently the beauty of it is lost in our Language.  
Pag. 4. Lin. 6, 7 For he that has to do with such sort of ] N●● qui cum ingeaiis Conflictatur ejusmodi. This 〈◊〉 is a word very fine and significant; add 〈◊〉 inding to all the Shocks and Affaults that 〈◊〉 ured Man is exposed to in bad Company, and cannot be easily rendered into English.  
Pag. 6. Lin 1. For had you blamed him for saving her out of the Flames, what would ye ha' done if he had thrown her in?) Nam si illum objurges, vitae qui aeu●ilium tulit, quid facias illi, qui dederit damnum aut malum? This Sentence is so odd, as will hardly admit of an accurate Translation without too much flatness; therefore we have rather kept to the Author's Design, than to the close Signification of the Words.  
Pag. 8. Lin. 3●. And you sent to Bridewell.] In pistrinum, into the Grinding House; That being then the most common Punishment for Slaves. Our calling of it Bridewell, is only the changing of a Custom, by the same reason that we afterwards call Forum, the Change, and also Piazza, because 'twas a Public place of Commerce and Resort. The like Liberty we have taken in other places.  
Pag. 9 Lin. pennlt. They're resolved to bring it up.] Decreverunt Tollere. The word Tollere signifies taking off the Ground? This being an Allusion to a common in those days of exposing their Children, therefore has more in it than a Translation can express.  
11. Lin. 20. Some damnable Roguery i'th' bottom on't.] Aliquid monstrialunt. That is, the Woman has got some monstrous Imperfection, as a Wooden Leg, some foul Disease, or the like, which her Friends very industriously smother. Some think that this is a Proverbial Allusion; the Meaning whereof we have lost; but that we leave to Critics.  
Pag 18. Lin. 10, 11. My Pamphilus! you see, etc.] Mi. Pamphile! hujus formam, etc. These dozen Verses in the Original may serve to give the Reader a Taste of our Author's Excellency in moving the Passions whenever there is occasion.   

ACT II.  
'TIs observed that Charine and Byrrhie were added by our Author, and not taken from Menander; or else Philumena must have went unprovided, and so have given some disgust to the Audience. This under Plot of Charine does not only serve to make all end well, but also to hasten the main Plot, and keep the Stage from Languishing.  
Pag. 18. Lin. 23. Never a Governantc.] Matronam nullam. Matrona was a Person, that always assistled in Weddings, and had a particular Employment about the Bride, as the Aruspex had about the Bridegroom. Nonobservance of old Customs are allowable in Translations of this nature.  
Pag. 20. Lin. 11. So that you needned break a Jot of your own Measures for fear of his altering his mind.] Nectu ea causa minneris haec quae facis, ne is mutet suam Sententiam. 'Tis a very hard Passage; therefore we have done it in as general Terms as we could; perhaps, You mustned leave your old ways, lest Chermes should have a better Opinion of ye, might be somewhat more intelligible.   

ACT III.  
PAg. 25. Lin. 12. Your Farce wasn't well timed Mr. Rogue.] Non sat Commode divisa sunt temporibus tibi, Dave, haec. This is an Allusion to the Theatre, and is the same as if he had said, Your Incidents were not well prepared. The Translation comes short of the original, because the Rules of the stage were then more strictly observed.  
Ibid. Lin. 26. In the first place let her be well bathed. It was their constant Custom in Greece, for 2 Lying-in Woman to be immediately put into 2 Bath.  
Pag 33. Lin. 12. What d'ye deserve for your Pains? Quid meritus? This is an Allusion to the Athenian Custom of saying, Quid meritus, to Condemned Persons, whose Pains were augmented or diminished according to the Answer they gave; therefore the Grace of this Expression is quite lost in our Language.   

ACT IU.  
PAg. 39 Lin. 13. Take some of those Herbs there] Ex Ara hinc sume Ferbcnas tibi. It was usual for the Athenians to have an Altar at the corner of each Street, daily covered over with fresh Herbs, and according to all probability, the same Altar that was meant here. But this same Word Altar was not so necessary to be taken notice of in a Translation.  
Pag. 42 Lin 3. Many creditable Women.] Aliquot fuerunt Liberae; that is to say, Free Citizens, for Slaves among them were no Witnesses. The Phrase, creditable Women, is more agreeable to our Customs and Language, and also the Person's Character that speaks it.  
Pag 43 Lin. 17. Why, I was told that our Chry sis lived somewhere down that Lane.] To make Crito speak here like a plain Country Fellow, we believe is neither contrary to his Character nor his Habitation, nor yet beneath the Dignity of our Author.   

ACT V.  
PAg. 47. Lin 19 For he looks as grave as an Alderman, and talks like a Judge.] Tristis severitasinest in Voltu, atque in Verbis sides. Madam D acier commends this as one of the most elegant Lines in all Terence.  
Page 47. line 35, 36. Trass him up immeditely.] Sublimem hunc intro rape. The word Sublimem, signifies the usual Prison for Slaves, on the top of the House; which is more than our words up means, or indeed, more than a Translation ought to take notice of.  
Page 48. line 12, 13. Let him be tied Neck and Heels, like a Beast as he is.] Quadrupedem constringito. It was a Custom for the Athenians to tie Criminals Hands and Feet together like a Calf. We have done this Passage according to our own Customs, as we do many others of the like Nature.  
Page 50. line 3, etc. Only thus much let me beg of ye, that you would'nt believe that I suborned this old Man, &c] Pamphilus had all the Reason in the World to endeavour to bring Simo and Crito together, that so he might clear himself of such a Scandal as his Father very reasonably imputed to him. And this was all the young Gentleman's Design, but the Poet had a far greater. which the Audience couldn't so much as suspect: Namely, the Discovery of Glycerie, which comes in very naturally.  
Page 54. line 8, 9 Pam. Ah, Sir, 'twasn't well done. Sim. I'm sure I ordered it to be well done.] Pam. Pater, non recte vinctus est, Sim. Haud ita jussi. The meaning here is very doubtful; but there is certainly a playing upon the word Recte; and not being able to find a better, we took this.  
Page 56. line 4. Send Company to remove her to ours.] Among the Athenians, their Lying-in Women were usually well enough to go abroad in a days time.    

Remarks upon the Eunuch.  

ACT I.  
PAge 60. line 8, etc. What? Go to her? When a Rival's preferred? Myself refused? Even Entrance denied me? These Words express a great Passion, consisting chief in the acting.  
Page 61. line 21. And went an even pace.] Ac pariter fieret. The Word Pariter is a Metaphor taken from the Pairing of Horses in a Chariot, where both bear an equal share; therefore not to be so finely expressed in English.  
Page 62. line 10. Mum, mum for that.] Potest taceri hoc. Madam D'acier observes, that this is the most malicious Saying of Parmeno's that could be. 'Tis as much as to say, Your Mother was a Whore, and I ve nothing to say against it. And this appears from her removing from place to place, the common sign of such People in those days.  
Page 66. line 8, 9 Whose Brother I hope I've in a manner found out.] Our Author's Contrivance is very remarkable, for so ingeniously keeping Thais from speaking any thing of Chremes, Pamphila's Brother, till Parmeno and his Master were gone: A thing which (if discovered) would have spoiled the whole Plot.   

ACT II.  
PAge 67. lin. 26. How, Sir! What three livelong days?] Hui Univorsum triduum? The word Univorsum, by reason of its immediate following of Totum, has a peculiar Grace and Signification which our English Tongue will not reach to-Madam D'acier is content to repeat the same words, but we have tried to give it a lift.  
Page 74. line 10. To tell your Father that he must not fail to be at the Court.] Nuncies Patri, advocatus mane mihi esset ut meminerit. The word Advocatus here signifies a Pleader a Solicitor, or perhaps a Witness, and sometimes only a Friend. But in a Translation there was no need of being so particular.  
Pag. 76. line 32. Ay, but my Bones will smard for't.] At enim isthaec in me cudetur faba. As much as to say, My Body must be their Threshing floor. Critics differ about the meaning of it: But however 'tis an Allusion, and a Proverbial Saying, which would sound but indifferently in a close Translation.   

ACT III.  
PAg. 82. line 28. You'd be content to do the moss sordid thing in the World for a livelihood. E Flama petre te cibum posse Arbitror. It was a Custom among them to throw Victuals into the Fire after the dead Body; and 'twas reckoned one of the meanest things in the world to eat that, and the greatest Affront to be told of it. Therefore to come nigh the Original here were to lose more of the Grace of it than we have now.  
Pag. 88 line 8. But what Good, etc.] At queno Deum? Qui templa coeli summa sonitu concutit This is a verylofty Passage, taken, as Donatus says, from Ennius in his 〈◊〉 and neatly fitted for this place.   

ACT IU.  
PAg. 90. line 15. Whips her Gold and Jewels into this Casket.] These were certain Ornaments that the Laws of Athens forbade Courtesans to wear publicly in the Streets.  
Ibid. line 35. 'tis better to be almost distanced, than to be quite thrown out of the Race.]  extrema linea amare, hand nihil est. This is an Allusion to their Custom of Chariot Races, where the Racers were rewarded according to the Marks or Lines they first arrived at.  
Pag. 100 line 12, 13. Had we but a Mortar now to play upon 'em under the Covert way; one Bomb would make Tom scamper.] Fundam tibi nunc nimis vellem dari, ut tu illos procul hine ex occulto caederes: Facerent fugam. The liberty we have here taken is only changing of a custom; perhaps a Squib or a Cracker might have done as well; Gnatho being somewhat upon the Droll with the Captain.  
P. 102. l. 14, 15. Take your Army into Quarters of Refreshment i'th' Kitchin.] Domi focique fac Vicissim ut memiveris. This passage is admirable in the Original, and its Beauty can't be preserved in our Tongue, which consists in the words Domi focique, and the Verb Memineris. 'Tis an Allusion to Generals bidding their Soldiers (upon all desperate attempts) to think on their Houses and warm Chimneys at home, which were taken for the chief Blessing of a Soldier; and the word Memineris was then their constant word of Enouragement, which also is lost in our Tongue.   

ACT V.  
PAge 108. Line 12, 13 Faith I'll be even with you for your Mysteries, etc.] It was excellently contrived of Terence, to make Parmeno and Pythia perpetually to quarrel and hate one another. For upon this depends the whole Action. By this means old Laches (who comes upon the Stage purely by accident) is brought into Thais' House, and the Catastrophe wound up with the greatest Address imaginable. This is a remarkable instance of his admirable Art, in bringing about his Incidents contrary to the Expectations of the Audience.  
Page 117 Line 4. Here's to the fleecing and jeering the Cully to death.] Hunc comedendum & deridendum vobis propino. The Grace of the word Propino cannot be kept up in our Tongue. Propinare, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, properly signifies (according to their Customs) to taste or drink a little first, and then give the Cup to another. Gnatho alludes to this, and after an ingenious manner turns the use of the word from drinks to other things. As much as to say, gentlemans I've had the first Soup of this Blunderbuss, now you may take the rest. Some Copies have Prebeo instead of Propino, but the Nature of the Verse shows that to be false.    

Remarks upon the Self-Tormenter.  

ACT I.  
IT ' has been much doubted in what place, and at what time the Scene opens. To clear that as short as possible, it ought to be observed, that Chremes coming home pretty late one Evening, just by his House he meets with Menedeme, who had his Working-Tools upon his Shoulders, as being just come out of his Field, and there they began their Discourse together. That the Scene was by Chremes and Menedeme's Doors, and not in Menedeme's Working-Field, appears from Clitipho's coming out of Chremess House at the latter-end of the first Act, and by a great many other Circumstances afterwards: And that it was late is plain from Pag. 122. line 5, 6.— Or come home never so late at Night, there you're at it, digging, etc. Now the Scene opens after this late time.  
Page 122. line 20. etc.] And therefore you may take what I say either by way of Advice, or by way of Enquiry; that if what you do be well, I may do so too; if ill, I may divert you from it.] Vel me monere hoc, vel percontari puta; rectum est, ego ut faciam; non; te ut deterream: These two Verses are very fine and elaborate, and the Grace of 'em seems peculiar to the Latin Tongue. Here Ego ut faciam answers to percontari; te ut deterream, to Monere. Besides percontari is an Allusion to the Marriner's Word, when they fathom the Sea, and consequently better than our Word Enquiry.  
Page 123. line 4. Don't tyre yourself so.] Ne labora. Most have thought that Menedeme was working in his Field at this time, and Chremes by saying ne Labora desired him to leave off. But this mistake appears by what has been said before. So that this ne Labora, was as much as to say, Don't weary and burden yourself with the great weight of these Tools.  
Page 125. line 24. This is Bacchus ' s Day.] Donysia hic sunt. The Athenians had many Feasts of Bacchus, but two above all the rest, one in the Spring, and the other in Autumn. Now this it seems was that in Autumn, called Dionysia in agris, the place where this Scene lay,   

ACT II.  
PAge 135. line 9 We'll have her to your Mothers]  
Upon this Sentence depends the main Plot; and truly here is an admirable Contrivance through most of this Scene, not only to bring about Syrus or Clitipho's Design most ingeniously, but also the Poets, which was the Discovery of Antiphila.  
Page 138, line 31. I can scarce contain myself old Boy, etc.] In this all the common Books are in an Error, in making this to be spoken by Clinie, whereas indeed 'tis Clitipho, who doesned go off the Stage, as 'tis generally believed, but only hides himself.   

ACT III.  
PAge 141. line 25. With a great Luggage of Golden Trappings,] Ornatas veste, atque Auro, It was the Custom among their Courtesans to have Servants to carry their Finery for 'em, which was commonly such as the Athenian Laws forbade them to wear publicly. Some think that Ornatas, etc. signifies her Maids fine , but this has no probabisity.  
Page 144. line 22. You're Heart of Oak.] Aquilae Senectus. The Latin is a Proverbial Allusion to the Strength and Vigour of Eagles, who never die before they are old, and then they are always drinking. For this reason have we taken a Proverb of our own, used upon Fuddling occasions.  
Page 145. line ult. I don't use to fail, Sire.] Non est mentiri meum. The Sense of this place seems to have been mistaken by most People.  
Page 151. line antepenult. That, if she died, she might ha' carried away some Token of our kindness.] This Passage is grounded upon an old Heathen Custom of those Times; for they believed it a very great Crime for a Child to die, without posfessing some part of its Parents Goods.  
Ibid. line ult. So you saved the Child's Life, and had your own Humour into the Bargain?] Conservasti te atque illam. This is a difficult Passage, but the former Remark help to explain it; so it is Paraphrastically thus, Besides the saving of your Daughter 've had the Satisfaction of discharging your Conscience in not parting from her .   

ACT IU.  
PAge 154. line 6. Yes, for I was by at the Discovery. This Passage plainly shows Syrus went in with Chremes and Sostrata, and so left the Stage clear; consequently the Fourth Act must needs begin where we have made it.  
Page 158 line 34. Clinie has told his Father that Bacchis is your Son's Mistress, etc.] This is the beginning of a cunning Artifice, chief to amuse Chremes, and the more ingeniously to bring in what he says, Page 160 line 2, 3. But for the Money I told ye your Daughter owes to Bacchis, etc. and likewise to create a Pretence for Clitipho's carrying the Money himself, without which the Cheat might have been discovered too soon.   

ACT V.  
PAge 164. line 13. This same Assistant, Counsellor, and sage Director o' mine.] Sed hic Adutor meus, & Minitor, & Premonstrator. These three Words, Adjutor, Monitor, Premonstrator, are taken from the Theatres, signifying such a teach and prompt the Actors. We have given the natural Sense, but their Beauty consists in the Figurative Sense, for which we want suitable Words; only Prompter might perhaps have done well enough, if we had made one Word serve for three, as the French Lady in effect has done.  
Page 169 line 7, 8. I ll be hanged if the Rascal dare ha' served a poor Friendless Widow so as he served me.] Viduae mulieri, where lies the Emphasis. Widows among the Ancients were looked upon as the most shiftless, helpless Creatures of all; therefore the force of Viduae mulieri is much weakened in our Language. The meanest Slave upon Earth, would have better come up to the Original.  
Page 171. line 3, 4. For my part I don't believe you are any of their Son.] Here is an excellent Contrivance of Terence, in making Syrus propose such a business to Clitipho, as to question his Parents; which does not only much heighten the Character of Clitipho, but most dextrously and naturally brings all to an end in due time.  
Page 172. line penult. What because he's so like my newfound Daughter?] Quod silia est Inventa? This is a very difficult Passage, and if we had come nigher to the Original, we could have scarce made it Sense, however not clear and intelligible.  
Page 173 line penult. & ult. No! tho' you had sprung out of my fertile Brain, as Pallas they say did from mighty Jove's.] Non, si ex capite sis meo natus, item ut aiunt Minervam esse ex Jove. This may be thought too lofty for Comedy, but if we consider it proceeds from Chremcs' extreme Passion, we shall see 'tis not only fine but also natural. Upon this Horace in his Art of Poetry lays down this Rule;  
Interdum tamen & vocem Comedia tollit,  
Iratusque Chermes tumido delitigat ore.  
Page 174. line 11, 12. I'm ashamed to name the filthy Word before your Mother.] The Greeks and Romans were obliged both by their Religion and Policy not to mention any thing that so much as savoured of obscenity before their Wives.  
Page 175. line 25, 26. That Carrat-pated, Wall-eyed, Pimple-faced, Hook-nosed Creature?] Rufamne illam virginem, cesiam, sparso cre adunco naso? Here is a Happiness in our Language, which in composition of Words far excels all other Languages that are known to these Western parts of the World; the Greek indeed surpasses it.    

Remarks upon the Brothers.  

ACT I.  
PAge 179. line 5. That went to bring him home.] Qui adversum ierant. Adversum is an extraordinary proper word in this place; for Waiting-men were called Adversitores. Our Tongue seems to want a good Word for it, except the Usher will do, which is not so proper in this place neither.  
Page 184. line 25. He told me he would take up and marry. Here Micio discovers a very material thing to the Audience, and knows little of it himself. For as yet Eschine had not told him whom he designed to marry. This seems to be a meat Cast of our Poet's Skill.   

ACT II.  
PAge 185. line 17, 18. San I am a Woman-Merchant. Esch. A Cock-Bawd you mean.] San. Pgo Leno Sum. Esch. Scio. These Women-Merchants had peculiar Privileges in Athens, and were Persons of some Repute; but because such People are more scandalous among us, we have taken the liberty of translating Sico, according to the Notion we have of those Creatures.  
Page 186. line 32. D'ye know who I am, Sir?] Nostion qui sim? These words have a peculiar Meaning in the Original, which is lost in the Translation. For Nosti me? and Nosti qui sim? Are the usual and common words between Debtors and Creditors at the Bar. Therefore Sannio in saying Nostin qui sim? Did in effect say, Do I own you any Money, Sir?  
Page 188. line 31, etc. 1 hear my Master and you have had a kind of a Scuffle. San. A Scuffle d'ye call it? Never was the like surely.] Cum Hero nescio quid concertasse? San. Nunquam vidi iniquius concertationem comparatam. The Grace of the Original consists in the words, Concertasse and Comparatam; the first being a proper Term to imply an Equality between Eschine and Sannio, and the latter a word borrowed from the Gladiator's measuring their Swords; the Beauty of both which is lost in the Translation.  
Page 191. line 21, etc. He has taken upon himself all the Curses, Scandals, Love-Matters, and Miscarriages that belong to me.] Eschine in taking all upon himself, designed purely to oblige his Brother; but the Poet designed it to bring about the main Incident, (Viz. Eschine's Marriage) most naturally and dexterously. This Under-Plot of Clitipho and the Musick-Girl is admirably woven into the plot; and is an excellent instance to show how useful and beautiful an Under-Plot may be, and still preserve the Unity of Action.  
Page 192. line ult. I'll march home with Plenty of Provisions.] Convortam me domum cum obsonio. Here Syrus speaks as great as he can, for the word Convortam belongs to Magnificence, and Triumph; which is almost lost in our Tongue: Indeed, the word March would have been better, were it not now used upon every slight and trivial account.   

ACT III.  
PAge 195. line 1, Pish! Don't trouble me whoever you are. Madam D'acier says, that the Greeks took delight in staying the Slaves in the Streets, and amusing 'em, that so their Masters might beat them for loitering, when they come home. It seems Geta thought that Sostrata served him so.  
Page 195. line 33. He'd put the Infant on his Father's Knees.] It was a constant Custom among the Greeks, whenever they had a Child, immediately to put it upon their Grand father's Knees; probably to give them the Pleasure of seeing themselves live again in a new Race.   

ACT IU.  
PAge 206. line 16. The first that report it.] Primus porro obnuncio. The word Obnuncio is very proper, it signifies the telling of ill News, and is always taken in a bad Sense. We have no word to answer it in our Tongue that we know of.  
Page 209. line 15. Make this day as long as I can.] Hunc producam diem. The word Produco is a Funeral Term, and has a double Signification. Perhaps it might have been as proper to have said: I'll bury this Day in Pleasures.  
Page 214. line 1. But I'm afraid you don't mind your own Concerns, etc.] These dozen Verses in the Original most admirably show the gentle Chide of an indulgent Father; and there's scarce a Word but deserves Consideration, each of them making so deep an Impression upon a generous Mind.  
Page 217. line 29. And thou, pretty Child, wilt hobble out the Hay among 'em?] Tu inter eas restim ductans saltabis. This Phrase, Restim ductans, is an Allusion to their old way of Dancing, but whether with a Rope, as the word Restis seems to imply, or with joined hands, metaphorically so called, we leave to Critics in Antiquity. We have translated it nighest to our Customs, and Demea's Character.  
Page 219. line 21. He'll be no welcome Reveller.] Comissatorem haud sane Commodum. The word Commissator, properly signifies one a little in drink that goes in Masquerade to some new Company, and surprises them with his sudden and unexpected coming: So that this is much more expressive than our Reveller.   

ACT V.  
HEre our Author is not so clear indinstinguishing his Acts as in other places; for tho' we have followed Madam D'acier in making the Fifth Act begin at Parata a nobis sunt, yet we think we might with as much, or more reason have made it begin at Defessus sum Ambulando. The common Books are undoubtedly all false in this Point.  
Page 221● line 28. Many Observations may be made, Brother, upon two Persons doing the same thing, etc.] Here Micio is hard put to't, which makes him talk a little obscurely. In truth, Micio, thro' most of this Scene, though in very few words, says all that can be said to excuse his Nephew's Extravagancies: And Terence's Conduct is excellent in this place, making Micio assuage his brother so plausibly, and with so much colour of Reason, when the Case would bear it so ill.  
Page 225. line 30. Bid Babylo tell out half a hundred Guineas quick.] Interpreters seem much puzzled to find out who this Babylo is. Whether it be Micio, or a Banker, or any one else, 'tis not material; and whether this Money is for Eschine, Ctesipho, Syrus, or Sannio, the Humour is still the same, and as well carried on.  
Page 228. line 32. And took care of a Debauch in the Morning for 'em.] Apparar ede die Convivium. Demea mentions this as an unusual thing, because the Romans had their Feasts, great Entertainments, etc. always in the night; and to make a full Meal before that time was scandalous.    

Remarks upon the Tricks of Phormio.  

ACT. I.  
PAge 233. line 11, etc. All that this poor Fellow now, by starving himself, has bit by bit, with much ado, scraped together out of his pitiful Allowance must go at one Swoop; People never considering the Pains it cost him the getting.] Quod ille unciatim, vix, de demenso suo suum defraudans Genium comparsit miser, id illa uniuersum abripiet, haud existimans Juanto labore partum. These three Verses and a half are extreme fine and elaborate; All as far as Miser is an exact and regular Climax, almost every Word having a considerable Emphasis. After that, the Word Abripiet answers to Conraditur, five Lines before; Vniversum, to Vnciatim vix, and de demenso suo, and haud existimans, quanto labore partum, to suum defraudans Genium, and Comparsit miser: So that our Translation may well fall short of it.  
Page 236. line 23. Would have made her very disagreeable.] Haec formam extinguerunt. The word Extinguo, is an excellent Word in this place, belonging properly to Beauty, for the word Forma by its Derivation is observed to signify Light, Flame, Heat.  
Page 237. line 28. Antipho was persuaded, the Business done, the Cause tried, we Cast, and he married.] Persuasum est homini; factum est; Ventum est: Vincimur: Duxit. This is very concise and comprehensive in the Original. But yet oftentimes (as in this Passage for instance), our Tongue has a Happiness equal to the Latin in shortness of Expression; and where there is a Composition of Words, Superior.   

ACT II.  
WE have made the Second Act begin at Adeone rem rediisse, dividing the first Act of the common Books into two, and joining the Second and Third into one. For 'tis plain there's a Cessation of Action, and the Stage cleared at, Da hoc Dorcio: But there's neither at, Scd eccum ipsum video in tempore huc se recipere; All which Verse Madam D'acier, to make a Cessation more likely, has left out, when there was no other occasion but that, for her doing so.  
Page 242. line 30. And let not his hussing and hectoring dash you out of Countenance.] Ne suis to Irutus saevi victis protelet. The word Protelet is a Term borrowed from the Husbandmen, and signifies the spoiling or breaking of a Furrow by crossing it with a Plough. The Beauty of it lies in the Figurative Sense which is lost in our Tongue.  
Page 245. line 28. Sir, if my Cousin Antipho had committed a Fault to the Prejudice either of his Honour or Estate, etc.] Here is a remarkable instance of our Author's Closeness and Solidity of Sense, in making Phedrie here, and Geta soon after, to say so much in a bad Cause, and that in so few Words too.   

ACT III.  
PAge 252 line 26. I say Stilpho, as if you didn't— know him.] 'Tis very remarkable that Phormio should speak so important a Truth unknown both to himself and Demipho. The Poet makes it an ingenious Preparation to the Probability of the Concealment and Discovery of Phanie; though Phormio's Design was quite otherwise.  
Page 257. line 2. Out-hectored your Father.] Confutavit verbis Senem The word Confuto is a proper Term in Cookery, used commonly for pouring cold Water into a Pot that boils over: Perhaps we might ha' rendered it more properly— cooled the old Man's Courage.   

ACT IU.  
PAge 264. line 4. To take me to my Heels.]  me excutiam. Excutio signifies to shake, and Madam D'acier says, 'twas customary for the Greeks and Eastern People, to shake their  at the Door of the House they went from.  
Page 265. line 21, 22. I've been hammering upo' thee same thing, and fancy I've thought of an Expedient.] Geta's Expedient was the putting Phanie upon Phormio. Here are four several Designs in it. Geta's design was to cheat the old Men of their Money. Demipho's and Chremes' design was to part Antipho and Phanie, in order to marry him elsewhere. But the Poet had a double design; First, naturally to bring about Phanie's discovery in due time; And secondly, to make the old Men and Phormio fall out, the natural Consequence being the adjusting of Phedrie's Concerns, and making all end well.   

ACT V.  
PAge 273. line 5. We should'nt have outrun the Constable.] Ita fugias, ne preter Casam. This is one of the most difficult Passages in all Terence, and Interpreters very much differ about it, some making it praeter Causam. The most probable Meaning seems to be Paraphrastically thus: Go where you please, so you keep your Eye upon your House, and give Rogues no advantage over you. If our English Proverb, Outrun the Constable, should not answer it in all respects, 'tis more our Unhappiness than our Fault.  
Page 284. line 29, 30. They make towards me like a couple of Bullies to hector me. High gladiatorio animo ad me affectant viam. This is a Metaphor taken from the Roman Gladiators, who went with a Resolution to kill or be killed. If we had made it, They make towards me like bloody-minded Fellows, that will neither give nor take Quarter, it might perhaps have been nigher to the Original But such a Liberty as ours is allowable where we have neither Custom nor Words to express it closely.  
Page 288. line 19 I'll serve him the same sauce, I'll warrant him] Faxo Tali eum mactatum, atque hic est, infortunio. The Word Mactatum is borrowed from their Sacrifices, and properly signifies Magis auctum. The Grace of it consists in the Figurative Sense, and the comical joining it with Infortunio; which is lost in our Language.    

Remarks upon the Mother-in-law.  

ACT I.  
PAge 294. line 10, etc. Ah! what pity 'tis, that I had not that Youth and Beauty of yours, or you those Sentiments of these Matters that I have.] Eheu me miseram! Cur non aut isthaec mihi aetas & forma est, aut tibi haec sententia. These two Verses are very fine, and extreme hard to be equalled in a Translation. To have made it more like the Origival, perhaps this might have done better: Ah, what pity 'tis, I han't your Youth and Beauty, or you but my Discretion.  
Page 295. line Penult. Mr. Pamphilus was i'th' very height of his Passion for Mrs. Bacchis, when his Father began to be earnest with him to marry, etc.] This is the beginning of a most material Narration, which may be reckoned one of the best in Terence; especially if we consider the ingenious Preparation for it in the first Scene, and the Reasons Philotis had to inquire after this Business. Parmeno designs it purely for his Master's vindication, which seems as necessary in this place, as the Spectators Information.  
Page 298. line 5. The old Gentleman lives retired in the Country, and seldom visits the Town.] Nam senex rus abdidit se, huc raro in urbem Commeat. This is a very material Circumstance in this Narration; and what makes it still further remarkable, is the extraordinary Propriety of Terms. The word Abdidit implies a perfect Retirement, or an entire Retreat: and Commeat, notes him a great Stranger to the Town.  
Ibid. line 11, etc. When all on a sudden the young Woman began to hate the old one most mortally, without any Quarrel or Complaint on either side.] This Passage (though not perfectly true, but only believed by Parmeno) serves excellently to keep the Audience in suspense to warm 'em, and make 'em eager to know the Event of these things.   

ACT II.  
PAge 300. line 8, 9 And you forsooth must start up, and confound all, by your ill-conditioned Humours.] Tu sola exorere, quae perturbes haec tua impudentia. The Word Exorere in this place, is of great force, and signifies raising great Mischiefs, and the like; in which 'tis used by Virgil in his fourth Enead.  
Exoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor.  
We have no word to answer it fully in our Tongue that we know of.  
Page 302. line 30, etc. She vowed by all that's good, she wasn't able to endure the House while her Pamphilus was away. This confirmed Laches in the Suspicion of his Wife's Fault; The consequence of which, was her offering to go into the Country to clear herself: And this occasioned Pamphilus frivolous Excuses; and these increased the old men's Suspicions of his Infidelity; which brought about the whole Discovery. The close and natural Dependence of each Particular of this Plot is very remarkable.   

ACT III.  
PAge 303. line 23. Was ever Man so perplexed in his Love as I?] Nemini ego plura acerba esseex Amore homini unquam oblata credo quam mi. Donatus' Observation here is remarkable, That the Passions in this Scene would have been too Sublime and Tragical for Comedy, were the words ex Amore left out. But Love, it seems is a Passion predominant among ordinary, as well as great men, and consequently its Emotions are natural here.  
Page 306. line 23. But Heavens forbidden it.] Quod te, Ae●sculapi, & te, Salus, ne quid sit hujus oro. This was a Religious Custom in those days, which we didn't think necessary to take notice of in a Translation.  
Page 307. line 19 Nothing at all, Madam.] Recte, Mater. We know of no word in our Language that can reach this word Recte, which in this place is very proper, signifying, as Donatus observes, a refusing to answer a Question without any Offence or Incivility to the Person that asks it.  
Page 308. line 11. But immediately I perceived her Ailment.] Philumena's Labour was a very surprising Turn of the Stage, which did not only serve to introduce these moving Passions which followed, but also to quicken the Audience, and make 'em eager to know the Event.  
Page 316 line 16, 17. May be some body informed you that they saw him going to or coming from his Mistress. This Passage, and that above, Line 3, 4, in the same Page is an excellent preparation towards the old men's Suspicions of Pamphilus' Infidelity, which afterwards caused the meeting of Bacchis and Myrrhina. This was hinted at in the last Remark of the Second Act, where 'tis very observable that the Poet had prepared a Remedy, before the Audience so much as suspected the Disease.  
Page 317. line 17. Only when the Fellow left her, he forced a Ring off her Finger.] These words are very important, tho' they seem to be spoken accidentally, as were those in the last Remark; the Poet designed 'em to prepare that remarkable Narration of Bacchis' in the last Act, where the whole Plot is unravelled, and the Mystery discovered.   

ACT IU.  
PAge 317. line 27. I know well enough, Pamphilus, you suspect 'twas long o' my Humours that your Wife left us, etc.] Sostratas offering to go into the Country was designed on purpose by Terence to leave Pamphilus without excuse, when he refused to take home his Wife: So that by this means the old men's Suspicion might be heightened and confirmed, and they might have all the reason in the World to send for Bacchis, as they did. And indeed every little Incident promotes and tends to that Design.  
Page 321. line 14. Since she's to bring a Brat with her that's none o' mine.] Cum eam consequitur alienus Puer. Donatus observes, this is a Metaphor borrowed from young ones following their Dams. The word Consequitur, is a proper Term for that purpose, so that here is a considerable Beauty lost in the Translation.  
Page 323. line pen What? Why, first I think 'tis best for us to send for his Miss, etc.] The two old men's Design here in sending for Bacchis, was very material, and sufficiently apparent to the Audience; but the Poet's design was more material, and couldst be foreseen by the Audience. In this the Beauty of Incidents does chief consist.  
Page 327 ●●e 11, 12 Let her but satisfy the Women, and I'm content.] Upon Bacchis going to Myrrhina & Phiium●●●● ded the unraveling of the whole Plot. But that this might be done without the least bungling, and with all the probability in the World, the Poet has contrived every Instrument and every Scene so as to promote it, and give fair Pretexts for so doing.   

ACT V.  
THe Fifth Act must certainly begin where we have made it, for the Stage was not cleared before. Terence's Skill is remarkable in making of this Act so very short; or else the Spectators would have soon languished and grown cold after the Discovery, having nothing more to expect. And so they would have done not withstanding, had not the meeting of Pamphilus and Bacchis been somewhat more jocose and pleasant, than is frequent in Terence.  
Page 328 line 11, 12 Where I ve loitered away a whole day in gaping for Callidemides.] These words are not to be taken in a literal Sense, for then the Theatral Action would have lasted considerably above a day; whereas it does not last seven Hours, as may be proved from many Circumstances.  
Page 329. line 20. What great Satisfaction has my coming procured Mr. Pamphilus to day? etc.] This is the beginning of an excellent Narration, and the most material that could be; being the unravelling of all. It is remarkable for three Excellencies: First, Bacchis came not here to make this Discovery to the Audience, but only to go home: Secondly, after she was here, she did not stay for that purpose, but only for Pamphilus. And Thirdly, she spoke it in so few Words, and said such things before and after it, as made it seem to be purely Accidental.  
Page 331. line 22. So that your Presence, Discourse and Conversation will always be charming, where ere you go.]  Voluptati Obitus, Sermo, Adventus tuus, quocunque adveneris, semper siet. This is very fine in the Latin; and that which chief hinders our Translation from reaching it, is the different signification of the Words Obitus and Adventus; The first signifying an Accidental; the second, a designed Meeting. We have no words to answer them fully in our Language that we know of.  
Page 332. line 1, 2. I don't desire this should prove like a Comedy, where the whole Plot is discovered to every body, etc. 'Tis very remarkable that the Mystery of this Play is known but to very few of the Actors, a thing very uncommon either among the Ancients or Moderns; but here it was undoubtedly the best way, since it so well saved Pamphilus' Credit.  
We have been a little more particular in showing our Author's Management of this Plot, that we may let People know, that there is great Art, much Plot, and excellent Contrivance in that which is reckoned the very worst of his Plays. And it is certainly the worst, if a mean Subject, want of Variety, few Intrigues and Incidents, and want of Vnder-Plots can make it so.    
FINIS.