Phormio: Act the First: Scene II

GETA (at entering.) If a red-hair'd manInquire for me----DAVUS. No more! he's here.

GETA. Oh, Davus!The very man that I was going after.

DAVUS. Here, take this! (Gives a purse.) 'Tis all told: you'll findit right;The sum I ow'd you.

GETA. Honest, worthy Davus!I thank you for your punctuality.

DAVUS. And well you may, as men and times go now,Things, by my troth, are come to such a pass,If a man pays you what he owes, you're muchBeholden to him.--But, pray, why so sad?

GETA. I?--You can scarce imagine in what dread.What danger I am in.

GETA. I'll tell you,So you will keep it secret.

DAVUS. Away, fool!The man whose faith in money you have tried,D'ye fear to trust with words?--And to what endShould I deceive you?GETA. List, then!

DAVUS. I'm all ear.

DAVUS. Know him? aye, sure.

GETA. You do?--And his son Phaedria?

DAVUS. As well as I know you.

GETA. It so fell out,Both the old men were forc'd to journey forthAt the same season. He to Lemnos, oursInto Cilicia, to an old acquaintanceWho had decoy'd the old curmudgeon thitherBy wheedling letters, almost promisingMountains of gold.

DAVUS. To one that had so muchMore than enough already?

GETA. Prithee, peace!Money's his passion.

DAVUS. Oh, would I had beenA man of fortune, I!

GETA. At their departure,The two old gentlemen appointed meA kind of governor to both their sons.DAVUS. A hard task, Geta!

GETA. Troth, I found it so.My angry Genius for my sins ordain'd it.At first I took upon me to oppose:In short, while I was trusty to th' old man,The young one made my shoulders answer for it.

DAVUS. So I suppose: for what a foolish taskTo kick against the pricks!

GETA. I then resolv'dTo give them their own way in every thing.

DAVUS. Aye, then you made your market.

GETA. Our young sparkPlay'd no mad pranks at first: but PhaedriaGot him immediately a music-girl:Fond of her to distraction! she belong'dTo a most avaricious, sordid pimp;Nor had we aught to give;--th' old gentlemanHad taken care of that. Naught else remain'd,Except to feed his eyes, to follow her,To lead her out to school, and hand her home.We too, for lack of other business, gaveOur time to Phaedria. Opposite the school,Whither she went to take her lessons, stoodA barber's shop, wherein most commonlyWe waited her return. Hither one dayCame a young man in tears: we were amaz'd,And ask'd the cause. Never (said he, and wept)Did I suppose the weight of povertyA load so sad, so insupportable,As it appear'd but now.--I saw but now,Not far from hence, a miserable virginLamenting her dead mother. Near the corpseShe sat; nor friend, nor kindred, nor acquaintance,Except one poor old woman, was there nearTo aid the funeral. I pitied her:Her beauty, too, was exquisite.--In short,He mov'd us all: and Antipho at onceCried, "Shall we go and visit her?"--Why, aye,"I think so," said the other; "let us go!""Conduct us, if you please."--We went, arriv'd.And saw her.--Beautiful she was indeed!More justly to be reckon'd so, for sheHad no additions to set off her beauty.Her hair dishevel'd, barefoot, woe-begone,In tears, and miserably clad: that ifThe life and soul of beauty had not dweltWithin her very form, all these togetherMust have extinguish'd it.--The spark, possess'dAlready with the music-girl, just cried,"She's well enough."--But our young gentleman----DAVUS. Fell, I suppose, in love.

GETA. In love, indeed.But mark the end! next day, away he goesTo the old woman straight, beseeching herTo let him have the girl.--"Not she, indeed!Nor was it like a gentleman," she said,"For him to think on't: She's a citizen,An honest girl, and born of honest parents:----If he would marry her indeed, by lawHe might do that; on no account, aught else."--Our spark, distracted, knew not what to do:At once he long'd to marry her, at onceDreaded his absent father.

DAVUS. Would not he,Had he return'd, have giv'n consent?

GETA. To wedA girl of neither family nor fortune?Never.

GETA. What then! There is a parasite,One Phormio, a bold, enterprising fellow,Who--all the Gods confound him!----DAVUS. What did he?

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

GETA. It pleas'dOur spark at least: he put it into practice;Came into court; and he was cast; and married.

DAVUS. How say you?

GETA. Just as you have heard.

DAVUS. Oh Geta,What will become of you?

GETA. I don't know, faith.But only this I know, what'er chance brings,I'll patiently endure.

DAVUS. Why, that's well said,And like a man.

GETA. All my dependence isUpon myself.DAVUS. And that's the best.

GETA. I mightBeg one indeed to intercede for me,Who may plead thus--"Nay, pardon him this once!But if he fails again, I've not a wordTo say for him."--And well if he don't add,"When I go hence e'en hang him!"

DAVUS. What of him,Gentleman-usher to the music-girl?How goes he on?

DAVUS. He has not muchTo give, perhaps.

GETA. Just nothing, but mere hope.

DAVUS. His father too, is he return'd?

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

GETA. I don't know certainly: but I have heardThat there's a letter from him come to port,Which I am going for.

DAVUS. Would you aught elseWith me, good Geta?

GETA. Nothing, but farewell! (Exit DAVUS.Ho, boy! what, nobody at home! (Enter boy.) Take thisAnd give it Dorcium. (Gives the Purse, and Exit.)

You shall disprove no tittle of the charge