DAVUS

I marveled if this matter should pass away so, and still I feared whereto my Master's long gen tlenes would grow at length: who after he herd that she whom he thought of, should not been given in marriage to his son, did, (notwithstanding) never speak word to and of us, nor yet was any thing moved at it. His purpose was to have us brought under hand into fools paradise, to the end that now hoping the best, and having cast of all fear, we should suddenly be taken napping, in such sort, as we might not have time to bethink us how to prevent the marriage. A subtle fox I warrant him. Good Lord my master is here, and I saw him not till now. Now, what is the matter? What a Devil will he have? Whereof should I talk? Yea no doubt the world cares much for that. Yes truly I mind it well enough. What mean you by this? So they say. Truly I understand you not. No, I am plain Davus, and not Oedipus [the rea der of Riddels.] Yea a Gods name. Yes full well, you went now very plainly to the matter, and nothing about the bush. Yet good words I pray you sir. Who calls me? Oh my Master Pamphilus, you are the man I look for. Well met Carinus: I find you both in good time, even you two I would speaks with all. You dull me with too many words, and yet I know the matter already. You fear least you must marry Philumena: And you (Carinus) take care how you may marry her. And in that, is there no danger at all: I war rant you. Yes, out of hand. Say to your father that you will marry. Why, what is the matter? Why not? Oh notable hold deed. Well, it shall been cared for. But your father is here hard by, beware that he do not find you sad. I Come again to see what they are a doing or consulting. This he says softly to Pam philus: Simo neither hear king nor seeing them. He makes sure account that you will refuse to marry: he hath studied by himself, and is now come out of some solitary corner, hoping he hath de vised talk wherewith he may bring you beside your self: Therefore see that your wits been your own. Master, credit Me in this: I say unto you that your father will not give you one evil word to day, if you do but say that you will marry. M Y master gave Me commandment, that setting all business aside, I should watch Pamphilus this day, to th'end I might learn what he did as touching the marriage: and that is the matter I am now come after him hither: but lo where he is with Davus, here hard at hand. I will do that, that I come for. Davus speak eth this to Pa philus, because Simo draws nigh. Hem, look to your self. All the speech of Davus in this Scene, is only unto Pa ̄ philus, and out of the hearing of Simo. Turn suddenly towards him as though you were not aware of his coming. Well handled of you. He hath never a word more to say. Davus spea keth this to the Audience, out of the hearing of Simo. I perceive the matter fell out otherwise than he thought for, and that troubles the man. Why, nothing readier. No certainly, or if he be, his grief is but for two or three days (perceive you Me?) and than it is done: for he will take a right course with himself, as tou ching that matter. While he might, & while it stood with his youth full years, he gave himself to love: nor then neither, but secretly: for he took heed that it should not at any time bring him to ill name, even as became a manly man to do. Now it is meet for him to have a wife, he hath settled his mind on marriage. Not a whit for this matter, but there is some cause why he is not well pleased with you. A trifling matter. Nothing in effect. He says that there is too much niggardness used in this matter. Yea by you. He scarcely (quoth he) bestowed for ty pence in cates, and does he seem to marry his son to a wife: what man of calling (of my Friends and e qualles) shall I bid to my wedding feast, as the case now stands? And you likewise, here be it spoken, are too much sparing indeed, which I do not commend in you. I have moved his patience. She does so. Davus speaks to the audience out of Simoes hearing. I would to God that either the old man were deaf, or that prattling wench dumb. Davus speaks this to the au dience, out of Simoes hearing What remedy now may I find for this mischief? He speaks (as it were) to the audience. What does he say that he hath found out? What, by Me? I wot not what you say. And what is that, I pray you? Davus says this to the Au dience. Now in good faith this man beguiles himself, I do not. This he speaks to himself. Oh, ho, I see now wherein he is deceived: I wot well what I will do. What should you give Me credit? as though it was not told you before, that these things would come so to pass. Why than, did you of your self, find that this is a feigned matter? No doubt it was told you before, for how else should it come upon you to suspect it? As who should say, it was done by my devise. Well sir, you do not yet thoroughly know what manner of man I am. But when I begin to tell you any thing, you straight way think that I go about to beguile you. So as in good faith, now a days, I dare not scarce open my lips to you. Have you understood so? But nevertheless ere it be long, the child shall be brought here and laid before the door: Master, I tell you of it now before hand, that you may certainly know what will follow: least here after you should say, that this was done by the counsel or craft of Davus: And I would in any wise, that this evil opinion which you have of Me, were clean out of your mind. I herd it, and I believe it be true. Well, without that it come so to pass that you do see the child with your own eyes, nothing will hinder the course of this marriage. Why than, who else hath withdrawn him from these harlots but my self? for certainly we all know how exceedingly he loved this woman. Now he is desi rous to have a wife, and as for that matter, let Me a lone withal: yet nevertheless go you on forward still with this marriage as you do: and I hope God will prosper it. Why is not the bride sent for? it waxes now very late. Alas sir, should I have done such a deed? What is it? At last then, you know what manner of man I am. What, was it not? What, is it true sir? See, I could never perceive so much. Oh notable policy. Davus says this softly to himself. Out alas, are we not clean cast a way? And this Like wise to him self. What is this I here? I am utterly undone. I say it is excellently well done. In deed I will do what I can. Well, set your mind at rest. It is marvel if he be not at home. I am a forlorn creature, what shall keep me but that I must go hence straight into the grinding house to prison? No prayer or entreaty will serve, I have now brought all out of frame: I have deceived my master: I have forced a marriage on my Master's son: I was the cause y to the marriage shall be made to day, even quite unhoped for of y e old man, & clean contrary to the mind of Pamphilus. See these goodly crafts of mine: had I not busied my self, there had happened no harm at all: Davus espieth Pamphilus coming. But lo yonder I see him himself, I am but a dead ma : I would to God here were some place, where I ight throw my self down headlong. W Here is that same mischievous varlet, which hath clean undone Me? Now Lord have mercy upon Me. This he says out of Pam philus hearing. I am sure to been safe enough for ever hereafter, if I may but now avoid this mischief. Davus speak eth all this out of Pamphilus hearing. Truly nor I neither, what to do with my self: yet this is it I am fully resolved upon, I will tell him that I shall presently find out some remedy, and so put of my punishment yet a little while. Now he sees Me. But I will remedy it by and by. Yes certainly master Pamphilus. Nay rather better, I hope. You did so. Hanging. But yet suffer Me a little to come to my self, I will straight way seek out some help. Yes. Well, I am deceived, but not discouraged. The matter came not well to pass this way, now we will take and other course, unless you be of opini on, that because it had ill success at the first: that there before this evil may not now be remedied at the last. Master Pamphilus, this I owe unto you of duty, as being your servant: even day and night to labours to my uttermost with might and main, and to hazard my life to do you good withal: it is your partly, if ought hath happened otherwise than was looked for, to pardon Me. Be it that my doings prosper not: Why yet I do my true intent: Or find you some better reme die your self, and let not Me either make or meddle withal. I will. Alas, but yet stay a little, Glyceries door creaks. Yet I would know. Well, I will presently find you out a devise for this. Wheresoever your friend Pamphilus be, I will forthwith seek him out, and bring him with me: In the mean time (dear heart) do not you vex your self with thought. Go too, if he be not mad enough of himself, do thou prick him forward. Well, certainly I will bring this to pass for you. I have it but even now to do. That thou deceive not thy self, I have it for this men behoof, and not for thine. I fear me, this day will skant serve me to do my business: Think not than, that I am now at lei sure to discourse: Therefore get the both away hence, for the do but trouble Me. And what will you? whither away hence? Nay, now he begins to tell me some long tale. Why thou shameless man, is it not well for Thee, that I gain Thee one little days respite, in that I do prolong his marriage? What then? See a fool. To what end shall I come? I can do nothing. Well, go too, I will come. Now he spea keth to Mysis. Mysis do thou stay here a little for Me, till I come forth again. For a thing that must needs be done. I tell Thee, I will been here again by and by. W Hat, can one be sure of nothing in this world? Oh Lord God, I still thought, that this Pamphilus was my mistress chiefest joy, as being her friend, her lo ver, her husband, and one ready to serve her turn in all assays. But now (a lack forlorn woman,) what grief takes she for his sake? without doubt there is more harm in this, than there was good in the other. But lo, Davus comes forth. Abide fellow, what is that, I pray Thee? whither away carriest thou the child? Mysis, now must I needs have Thee show thy rea die wit and cunning in this matter. Take this same child of me quickly, and lay it down before our door. Take Thee some herbs of this altar, and straw un der it. Because if perhaps I shall be driven to swear to my master, that I laid it not there: That then I may swear with a safe conscience. Go too, bestir Thee, that thou mayest know further of my mind, what I will do. Oh good Lord. The Brides father is come, and hath preuen ted me. Now I leave of my purpose which I first intended. I will now make as though I came this other way on the right hand: See that thou been ready to and swear and uphold my talk, in every point as shall been needful. Now Davus comes a long. Good Lord of heaven, what hurleburley is yonder at the market? how much people is there at strife? without it be that corn be at a high price, I wot not in the world what to make of it. How now, what tale is this of a roasted horse? Nay but hearest thou me Mysis, whose child is this? or who brought it hither? Whom then should I ask, seeing here is no body else? Wilt thou not tell me what I ask? Come thy way hither on my right hand. Hushed, be not so hard for thy ears as to speak one word more than I shall ask Thee. Whence is this child? speak out aloud. Would would would, it is a wonder no doubt, if a hoore play a shameless part. Do we seem such fit copesmates for you to mock and dally withal? Bestur Thee quickly, and take a way the child hence from the door. This, Davus speaks in a lo were voice, that Chremes may not here him. Abide still, see thou stir not a foot out of the place thou standest in. Do I speak to Thee or not? And dost thou yet ask me what? I pray the whose child hast thou laid here? Tell me. This he speaks soft lie unto her. Let pass what I know, and tell me what I ask. Which of us owes it? This he re peats aloud because Chre mes may hear him. Hah, what saidst thou? Is it Pamphilus child? Oh notable prank worthy of punishment. Why, did not I see this same child brought unto you yesterday in the evening? Davus vrg eth Mysis to prove plainly that the child is born of Gly cerie, least otherwise Chre mes should imagine it to be a feigned mat ter, as Simo does. Act. 3. Scen. 1. At least I saw Gammar Canthara with her clothes tucked about her, carrying somewhat in her lap. Without doubt she knew not him, for whose cause she takes this matter in hand. If Chremes shall see this same child, laid here before the door, then will he not give his daughter in marriage: Ah, in good sooth he will give her somuch the sooner. Now be thou well assured of this, that if thou do not take away the child, I will by and by spurn it into the amid of the street, where I will trample Thee also in the dirt. One deceitful devise brings and other to light: I hear now such whispering among them, that this same Glycerie is free born of Athens. So as he shall be driven by law to marry her. Who talketh here? Oh Chremes, you come, in as good time as may be: hear me what I shall say. What, have you hard all this talk? I pray you and have you hard it in deed? fie, out upon these lewd pranks: Now should this same quean be had hence into Bridewell. This same is the man thou dost mock: think not then, that thou mock est Davus. Yes. Why thou foolish wench, thou perceivest not what is done. This man is the brides father: it might not other wise be compassed, to make him understand ̄ worser these things that we would have him. I pray Thee now, and dost thou think but small difference between that, that one does in good earnest, and that which is done for the nonce. I TO was told me, that here in this street, dwelled Chrysis, who chosen ra there in this town to gather goods with dishonesty, than to led and honest poor life, in her own country. By whose death, those same goods, by right of law, are come to me. But I see now of whom I may inquire. God speed you. I will follow these, but I would not for any thing, that the old man should now see me. W EL neighbour Simo, you have now had trial enough and enough again, of my love and friendship towards you. I began to enter into danger far e nough for you. Now at length cease your entreating: for while I bent my self to follow your fancy, I had well nigh cast away my daughter. What through my help, and yonder stranger. I have not seen a meeter man, a more seasona ble coming, nor a fitter time. Now all is out of danger. Now at last he espieth Simo. My master is here, what shall I do. Now master, and master Chremes, all things be in a readiness within. Now send for him when you will. Who, I? What, I? I went in but even now. Your son and I went in together. So they are. Nay but master Chremes, you shall here me tell you of a notable strange matter: I wot not what old man is come yonder even now, but to look to, he is a sub stantiall and wary man: if you saw his face, you would take him for a right honest man. In his count nance is sad gravity, and his words do found of truth. Nothing forsooth but what I hard him say. Marry that he knoweth Glycerie to be a free born woman of Athens. Why, here me sir. I beseech you here me. Wherefore? What have I done sir? If you do find that I told you any lie, kill me forth right. What, notwithstanding I say nothing but Troth? whereabout here, is Pamphilus? What man is that? Oh my master Pamphilus. Very true, but I wot well what hath happened to my self. Yea it came to pass after the common course of the world, that you knew of the evil that happened to me, sooner than I knew of the good that happened to you. Oh happy chance. Who is that? You say well. Tush let it alone, God does specially provide for it above all other children. I am going. This seems not to he spoken by any of the in terloquutors, but by some oh there coming last on the stage. Do not stay looking for their coming out: for she shall be betrothed within: and if any thing more remain to be done, it shall been dispatched within also. Now clap hands, and rejoice. Whom I verily believe, if he have yet hard of the marriage prepared for him. That he is beside himself, seeking for me all the Town over. But where shall I seek for him, or whi there shall I now first go? Well, I go my ways. But yet listen to me a little. I wot what you fear. I wot also what you fear. And that I know too. Lo, I put you out of fear, Chremes will not at this time give you his daughter to wife. I know it full well: your father met me ere while and told me that he would marry you this day to a wiefe, beside many things else, which now is no time to rehers. By and by I hasted me and ran eve ry foot to the market place, to tell you of this: and when I could not find you there, I God me up, on a high standing, and looked round about me, you were no where to be seen. By chance I spied Byrria this men servant, I ask him for you, he said he saw you not. This troubled me: Then I bethink me what to do: and as I was returning thence, I fell to mistrust whither there were any marriage towards or no, I remembered there was very small provision of meat: he himself was very sad: The marriage was to be made on the soddeyn, This did not hang well to gether. I presently God me to Chremes house, and be king come thither, there was no body stirring about the door, I was glad of that. I stay there a while, and could see no body either going in, or coming out, I went my ways in, and looked narrowly, there was never and elderly woman, no tryming up of the house, no stir or preparation. Nay but do these things seem to agree with a marriage matter? Guess say you? you take your mark amiss: The matter is out of all doubt: Moreover, as I was coming thence, I met with Chremes boy, carrying potherbs and a halpwoorth of small fish for the old men supper. Truly but you are never the nearer. Oh wise woodcok, as though it must needs follow, if he give not his Daughter to him, that therefore you shall marry her: unless you see better unto it, and un less you make suit to the old men Friends, you do but throw your cap in the wind. Marry I shall tell you, if so be it he be now in a chafe because Chremes will not marry his daughter unto you: Then lo, may he think with himself that he does you wrong: But yet he will think it no wrong at all, before such time as he shall perceive how your mind is settled towards marriage. But if you shall refuse to marry, then will he lay all the fault upon you, and then will be old stir and hurleburly. Oh master consider, he is your father, it is hard to withstand him: Moreover this Glycerie is a love woman, he will quickly pick a quarrel against her, and so turn her packing out of town: Never deny it. Do but consider what will follow of this. Not so: Marry I ween your father will say thus much to you: I will have you to marry a wife to day. You shall say, I will: And then I pray you what cause shall he have to chide you? By this means you shall make all his devises which now are of force, to be then altogether frivolous: and that without any danger to your self: for this is without all question, that Chre mes will not marry his daughter unto you: And for more surety, you shall not cease to use Glyceries compa nigh still as you have done, least haply he should altar his mind. Tell your father that you are willing to marry, so as when he would be angry with you, he may have no cause: for as for that vain hope of yours (imagining thus with your self: Tush, it is no Dam ̄ her for me to withstand my father, No man will marry his daughter unto a man of my manners) I shall easily put you out of that hope: he will find out a poor and mean marriage for you, rather than he will suffer you to be spilled by harlots. But if he shall perceive that you are well content with this marriage, you shall make him reckless of the matter, he will seek and other wife for you at leisure, and in the mean space some good fortune will fallen. Nay surely there is no doubt of that. What, are you not yet resolved? did not I say true? Truly even as much now as be before. Nothing at all. Yea truly, I, and none else.)