CHREMES. Oh, why d'ye think?

He's gone to quarrel with her. (_Sneering._)

DAVUS. Nay, but Chremes, There's more in this, and you shall hear strange news.

There's an old countryman, I know not who, Is just arriv'd here; confident and shrewd; His look bespeaks him of some consequence.

A grave severity is in his face, And credit in his words.

SIMO. What story now?

DAVUS. Nay, nothing, Sir, but what I heard him say.

SIMO. And what says he, then?

DAVUS. That he's well a.s.sur'd Glycerium's an Athenian citizen.

SIMO. Ho, Dromo! Dromo!

DAVUS. What now?

SIMO. Dromo!

DAVUS. Hear me.

SIMO. Speak but a word more--Dromo!

DAVUS. Pray, Sir, hear!

SCENE III.

_Enter DROMO._

DROMO. Your pleasure, Sir?

SIMO. Here, drag him headlong in, And truss the rascal up immediately.

DROMO. Whom?

SIMO. Davus.

DAVUS. Why!

SIMO. Because I'll have it so.

Take him, I say.

DAVUS. For what offense?

SIMO. Off with him!

DAVUS. If it appear that I've said aught but truth, Put me to death.

SIMO. I will not hear. I'll trounce you.

DAVUS. But though it should prove true, Sir!

SIMO. True or false.

See that you keep him bound: and do you hear?

Bind the slave hand and foot. Away! (_Exeunt DROMO and DAVUS._

SCENE IV.

_Manent SIMO, CHREMES._

--By Heav'n, As I do live, I'll make you know this day What peril lies in trifling with a master, And make him know what 'tis to plague a father.

CHREMES. Ah, be not in such rage.

SIMO. Oh Chremes, Chremes, Filial unkindness!--Don't you pity me!

To feel all this for such a thankless son!---- Here, Pamphilus, come forth! ho, Pamphilus!

Have you no shame? (_Calling at GLYCERIUM'S door._)

SCENE V.

_Enter PAMPHILUS._

PAM. Who calls?--Undone! my father!

SIMO. What say you? Most----

CHREMES. Ah, rather speak at once Your purpose, Simo, and forbear reproach.

SIMO. As if 'twere possible to utter aught Severer than he merits!--Tell me then; (_To PAM._) Glycerium is a citizen?

PAM. They say so.

SIMO. They say so!--Oh amazing impudence!---- Does he consider what he says? does he Repent the deed? or does his color take The hue of shame?--To be so weak of soul, Against the custom of our citizens, Against the law, against his father's will, To wed himself to shame and this vile woman.

PAM. Wretch that I am!

SIMO. Ah, Pamphilus! d'ye feel Your wretchedness at last? Then, then, when first You wrought upon your mind at any rate To gratify your pa.s.sion: from that hour Well might you feel your state of wretchedness.

--But why give in to this? Why torture thus, Why vex my spirit? Why afflict my age For his distemp'rature? Why rue his sins?

--No; let him have her, joy in her, live with her.

PAM. My father!----

SIMO. How, my father!--can I think You want this father? You that for yourself A home, a wife, and children have acquir'd Against your father's will? And witnesses Suborn'd, to prove that she's a citizen?

--You've gain'd your point.