PAMPHILUS

Oh the faith of God and man, what can be greater spite than this? he had purposed with himself to marry me to a wife to day: ought not I have known so much before hand? had it not been meet to have made me pri vie to it long ere this? What means Chremes, who having once denied to give me his daughter to wife, does he now change his mind in that, because he seeth me still one manner of man? Doth he deal so overthwartly, to th'end to partly me from Glycerie, forlorn man that I am? which, if it come to pass, I am clean cast away. Alas, alas, is there any man living so rest of all grace and good fortune as my self? Oh Lord God, shall I by no means be able to avoid the Alliance of Chremes? How many ways am I despised and set at nought? All things were done and passed, and so, I that was re fused am sought for again, and wherefore, without it be as I suspect, they cloak some secret fault in her, and because she cannot be shifted to any other, they would thrust her on me. But what should I now say of my father? is it fit he go so carelessly to work about so great a matter? who passing by me crewhile at the market place, spoke to me in this sort: Pamphilus; thou must be married to day: Get the home and make Thee ready. It seemed to me he said, Get thee away quickly and hang thy self. I was utterly amazed: Think you that I could bring forth one word, or make any excuse for my self, were it wrong, falls, or never so foolish? I became quite dumb. But had I wist so much before, if one should now ask me, what would I then have done, surely some what I would have done, rather than do as I did. But now whereto shall I first betake me? I am cumbered with so many cares, which diversely hale my mind to & from, what with love & pity towards this woman, The grief I conceive of this marriage, and the shame I incur with my father, who hitherto so gently suffered me to do what I would, (and shall I now gainsay him?) That woe is me, I wot not what to do. Who talks here? Oh Mysis, welcome. How doth thy mistress? Oh Lord, should I find in my heart to do so? Alas poor soul, should I suffer her to been deceived through me, which committed her whole trust unto me, and even put her life in my hands? Shall I deal so by her (whom I have entirely loved as my wife) that through need and necessity her chased behaviour and well ordered life should be corrupted and changed? No, I will never do it. What, dost thou think me so faint hearted, or moreover, so unkind, or uncourteous, or so cruel, as that neither our daily familiarity, nor love, nor yet we ry shame, can move me nor put Me in mind to keep promise with her? That I should be mindful of her? Oh Mysis Mysis, those words of Chrysis remain yet printed in my mind, which she spoke unto Me, as touching Gly cerie: Being near the point of Death, she calls Me to her: I came, and after you were gone aside and no body left but we two: thus she began: Friend Pam philus, you see of what beauty and years this same maiden is: neither are you to been told, what incon uenience these two things are unto her, both for sa ving her honesty and her stock: And therefore I pray you by this right hand of yours, and your honesty: I beseech you also on your faith and troth, and in res pect of the solitary state of this maiden, that you will neither partly her from you, nor forsake her: even as I have loved you as mine own brother, and as she all ways esteemed you alone above all men living, and was in all things ready at your commandment. I bequeathe you to her, as husband, friend, tutor, and fa there. These our goods I commit unto you, and charge you with them of trust. Hereupon she delivered Glyce rye unto me in way of marriage, and by and by gave up the Ghost: I received Glycerie of her, and having once received her, I will keep her still. But why art thou come from her? High Thee apace: and hearst thou Me? beware thou speak not one word of the marriage, least that also increase her grief. I see Carinus: God speed sir. In good faith I am neither a meet man to give counsel, nor yet have wherewith to help and oh there: but what is your matter? So the talk goes. Why, how so? What is it? Now in good faith he is not of my mind: but come near and tell me Carinus, hath there be any further matter between you and her? Marry sir I would there had. Truly I will do my best endeavour. According to my heart? Nay but listen to Me now Carinus, I hold it in no wise the partly of and honest man, to pike a thank where none is endue unto him: God wot I am more desirous to be rid of this marriage, than you are to obtain it. Now if either your self, or Byrria here, can do ought in the matter, be doing, feign, find out and pro cure the means that you may have her: I for my partly will so handle the matter, as she may not been marri ed to Me. O, in very good time do I see Davus, whose advise I use altogether. It is nothing to any purpose, he hath not yet understood of this mischief. Davus, come hither, stay. Davus, I am a forlorn man. I am cast away. I must be married. Yea but too day. That same is it. I pray Thee for Gods sake, rid me presently out of this fear, poor wretch that I am. How knowest thou somuch? What of all this? Tell on. I grant you, it is great likelihood. No Davus, as I guess. What wouldst thou have me to do? that I should yield to marry? May he turn her away? Then I pray Thee Davus what shall I do? Alas. Should I say so? I will never do it. Never do thou persuade me to it. This will follow, that I shall be shut from Glycerie, and tied up to this woman. Dost thou think so? Yea, but take heed whereto thou persuadest me. Well, I will say so to my father: but we must take heed, that he understand not of the child I have by Glycerie, for I have promised to bring it up. She earnestly besought Me to give her my faith and troth on this, that so she might been sure I would not forsake her. I will do as well as I may. O father. Neither in this thing, nor in any thing else, shall you find any let or delay, in me. I go. And yet I confess, this that hath happened, is even good enough for Me, when I would been so sottish, and so we ry a dolt, as to commit my whole estate and welfare unto a prating villain. Therefore I reap a joust reward for my folly. But he shall never escape scotfree with it. But what may I now say to my father? shall I now refuse marriage, and yet promised erewhile that I would marry? with what face dare I do that? I wot not what to do with my self. O. Come hither you honest man: how say you sirrah, see you not how I (poor soul) am bestead by means of your devises? Wilt thou remedy it? Yes, even as thou didst of late. Oh, should I credit Thee vile hangman? canst thou recover a matter full of trouble, and passed all hope of help? Out alas, what a sure stay had I of Thee, who this day, out of my greatest quietness, hast forced Me into a marriage spite of my tooth? did I not tell thee it would come thus to pass? What then art thou worthy of? Alas that I have not leisure to punish Thee as I would: it is now time for Me to see to my self, and not to be avenged of Thee. I S this a thing credible, or wor thy to be spoken of, that there should be somuch perverseness in any man, as to delight in evil, and to seek his own commodity, even by the discommodity of and other? Is this kind of people to be trusted? Nay certainly, those are the very worst kind of people, who are somewhat shamefast in denying a Request, but of terward, when time requires performance of their pro mises, Then of necessity, they bewray themselves and falter, and yet the matter it self drives them then to a flat denial: Then is their speech void of all shame and honesty, as thus: who are you sir? What friend of mine are you? why should you desire my sweet heart? Oh sir, hear you me, I love you well, but my self bet ter. Nevertheless, if you ask where is truth and trusti nes of promise, they are never a whit ashamed. Now they are not a frayed to deny, when as they ought to perform: And yet are they then afraid, when they should not. But what shall I do? Is it best that I go to him, to taunt and take him up for this injury? I shall give him shrewd words his fill: But one may say to me, thou shalt be never the near: yes very much: without doubt I shall anger every vain in his heart, and withal shall ease mine own mind. Carinus, I have unawares (without God help us) even clean cast away both you and my self. Why, what excuse now at last? Why, what is the matter with you now? You mistake the matter. Should I take her? Alack, full little do you know, in how great troobles I am wrapped, unhappy man that I am: and what care and anguish, this my Tormen tor hath put me to, with his devises. Well, you would not say this, if you knew either me, or my love. Yea and by how much the more you are ig norant of my heaviness: This same marriage was not meant or intended for me, neither did any man more cion, now at this time, to procure a wife for me. Abide, you wot not yet how the case stands. Why do you thus kill my heart? hear me what I shall say to you: he never ceased, pressing, perswa ding, and praying me so long, till at last he enforced me to say unto my father, that I would marry her. Davus. Yea, he brought all out of square. I wot not in the world, without that God were highly offended with Me, in that I followed his counsel. Yes marry may it, for I verily believe if thou do bend thy whole endeavour unto it, thou wilt make for me two marriages of one. That is it I desire: set Me again in the same state thou foundest me. But it must be done by and by. That is nothing to Thee. What, still more staying? Mysis? What is the matter with Thee? Out alas, I am a forlorn man? This miss chief begins now again a fresh: Is it meet that both I and she (silly souls) should be thus vexed and dis quieted through thy means? for doubtless that is the cause she now sends for Me, having understood of the marriage I am towards. Mysis I swear to Thee by all the Gods, that I will never forsake her, no not if I wist, I should have all men living mine enemies for it. I have desi read this woman in my heart: She is fallen to my lot: we are alike in manners and condition: farewell they, that would set us two a sunder. There shall none partly her from me, but only death. I seek for counsel. Davus I know whereabout thou goest. It is more than time it were done. I will go see Glycerie. So it is reported. Father, I confess I love that same woman: and if that be and offence, I confess that also. I sub mit my self into your hands father, lay upon me what charge you will: command me. Is it your plea sure I should marry a wife? will you have Me forgo this woman? well, I will bear all as I may. Only this I beseech you, not to believe that this old man is come hither by my appointment. Give me leave to clear my self, and that I may bring the man here before your face. This to him self. Alas I am undone, I fear me the stranger will have never a word to say. Listen to this gear Pamphilus. Father I believe it well. You are well worthy to be hated for your peevish preciseness: you make a doubt where all is as plain as a pack staff. Shall I suffer this men memory to be a hindrance unto my wished joy, when as I may help my self in this point? no, I will not suffer it. Lo you hear Cremes, the name you seek for, is Passibula. Father, what remains now to be done? Oh and excellent father. Chremes altereth no thing as touching my wife, but that I may still enjoy her, as I have done. Only, as touching the dowry. I accept it. You put us well in mind, I will present lie cause Davus to go about that matter. How so? What is that? Father, then is he wrongfully bound. I beseech you, command that he be let lose. But make hast than. Oh Blissful and happy day that this is. I I am come forth, to see what Pamphilus is a doing: but lo where he is. Perhaps some body would think that I skant believe this to be true, but I will have it to be true, as it is in deed. I suppose that therefore the life of the Gods is everlasting, because pleasures do proper lie belong unto them: for mine own partly, I am in heaven all ready, if so be it, no grief of mind do intermingle with this joy. But now what man should I most spe cially desire to meet withal, to whom I might show all that hath happened. Lo, I see Davus: There is no man living that I would fainer have: for I am sure that he, of all other, will unfeignedly rejoice at my joy and gladness. Davus. It is I. Thou wotst not what hath happened to me. And so do I too. My sweet love Glycerie, hath found out who be her parents. Her father is a very special friend of ours. Chremes. Neither is there any let or tarriance, but that I may marry her out of hand. Now moreover Davus, as touching the child. What man is there? Oh Carinus, you come to me, even as well as heart can wish. What, have you herd the matter? I wot it full well: but it would be too long for us, to tarry and look for his coming forth: Therefore follow me along this way: he is now with in with Glicerie. Davus go thou thy way home: hie Thee, go for company to bring her away hence. Why dost thou stand still? why goest thou not? No not the answer of God Apollo can be true er than this. Marry I would feign (if it may been) that my father shall not think, that I withstood the going forward of this marriage: But if it may not been, then will I go the plain way to work, that he may think that I did withstand it. What manner of man do I seem? Tell Me I pray Thee, what is that thou wilt do? Woe is me, forlorn man that I am. My good father. Father, may I speak a word or two? Yea Father, suffer. Me. Let me obtain this much at your hands. Were I not afeard of my father, I could tell him that which would satisfy him in this point well y nough. I am well nigh beside my self, my mind is so whelmed, with fear, hope, Joy, and with woned ring at so great, and so sudden good hap. she hath told it me her own self a thousa ̄ worser times.