SIMO

Nay, it is and other manner of matter. There is no need of that science, for this matter which I am now about: But faithfulness and secrecy, which I always noted to been in Thee, are the sciences I have need of now. Thou wotst how reasonable and easy a bondage thou hadst with me, ever since the time I bought Thee of a little one: and by cause thou didst thy service honest lie, and with good will, lo, of a Bondslave I made thee my free man, so as I rewarded Thee with the very best thing I had. I repent me not of that I did. So will I do, only this I tell Thee first and foremost: This marriage which thou weenest to be certain, is but a feigned marriage. Thou shalt hear all the matter from the begin ning, so shalt thou understand both my sons life, and my purpose, and also what I would have Thee do in this behalf. When my son grew to man's estate, it lay in his power to live more at random, for till than, how could a man know his nature, or discern his dis position, while as tender years, fearefullnesse, and his Master, kept him under. That which all young men for the most parts do applying their minds to some kind of study or other, as either to horses, and horsemanship: or to keep hounds for hunting, or to study Philosophy: he gave him self specially, to none of these things more than other, and yet was reasonably well seen in them all: I was glad of it. In this sort was the manner of his life, even gently to bear, and take all in good worth, at all men's hands that he kept company with: betaking himself to do as they did, and to follow their studies and exercises: Not thwarting any man, nor at any time putting forth himself before his companions, so as a man might full easily purchase praise, and not be envied, and also furnish himself with Friends. In the mean time, a certain woman of excel lent beauty, and in the flower of age, came from And dros, (now three years since) to dwell here, in our neigh borhod, being thereto driven through very poverty, and the small reckoning that was made of her among her own kindred. At the first, she lived chastely, sparingly, and hardly, earning her living by wool and web. But of terwards resorted, now one lover, and then and other, promising reward unto her, and as all are naturally given full soon to leave of labour and follow lust, even so this woman accepted the offers, and then she began the gain. They which then loved her (as it fell out) carried my son thither, in company with them. I straight way imagined with my self: without doubt he is caught for a bird: he hath his errand: I watched their Pages betimes in the morning, as they were wont to come thence, or go thither: I oftimes asked, ho Sir boy, tell Me if thou be a good fellow, who yesterday had his pleasure of Chrysis, (for so was the name of her of And dros. ) They would say, either Phedria, or Clinia, or Ni ceratus: for these three than loved her all at once. But what did Pamphilus, hah? (What, said they) Marry he supped and paid his share. I was well paid of this. In Like sort, I made enquiry at and other time, and could not find, that Pamphilus was any way touched with dishonesty. Therefore I thought I had suffici ent trial of him, and that he was a notable Pattern of Chastity: for he that hath to do with men of such conditions, and yet is not moved in mind that way, one would think he might full well have the rule and uyding of his own life. Now over and beside that this liked my self well, lo all other men also, even with one censent, gave all the commendations that might be, and praised my happy state, in that I a son, en dued with so good wit and government. What need I make many words? Chremes stirred up by this good report, came of him self unto me, to the end to match his only daughter in marriage to my son, and that with a ry large dowry: I was well pleased withal: promysd him my son: and this very day was appoint ted for the marriage. That shall thou hear: shortly after within few days that These things were a doing, this Chrysis our neighbour died. Than specially my son used thither, ever and anon in company with those which loved Chrysis: he was as busy as the best, in setting forth the burial: being all this while very sad: and now and than, would even shed tears with them for company: well, this also liked Me welinough: for thus thought I: he that upon small acquaintance and familiarity, takes this woman's death so grievously at the heart? what if he had loved her himself? or how would he take on for me his father? so as I took all this to have proceeded of a good nature, and gentle heart. To been bréfe, I my self likewise for his sake go forth to the burial, mistrusting no ill in the world. Thou shalt know by and by. The Coars is brought forth: we pass along with it: Anon I chuance to cast mine eye (among the women there) upon and odd young damosel, of such favour. Yea Sosia, of such modest and sober countenance and so passing beautiful to look too, as there could not possibly been more in a woman: who than to my seeming, made greater sorrow than any of the rest: And for that she excelled all the other women, bearing a face worthy and honest woman and well born, I get me to the waiting maids and ask what she might be: They tell Me that she is sister unto Chrys That went by and by, to the very heart of me. Out alas, this is it I wist not of: hence grew those tears of his: here is she whom he pitied so. Well, on goes the coars still: we follow after: we are come to the place of burial: it is put into the fire: They weep. In the mean space, this sister whom I told you of, rushed headlong to the flame with no small jeopardy: whereat my son Pamphilus being soar frigh ted, did than lo, bewray his love which he had cun ningly cloaked and kept secret all this while: he runs unto her, and takes her about the middle: My sweet heart Glycerie (quoth he) what do you? why go you about to cast away your self? with that, she cast her self weeping, and leaning upon him so familiarly, as a man might easily perceive their old accustomed love. I return thence angry and disquieted in mind, & yet had I not cause sufficie ̄ to to chide him: for he might have said: father what have I done? What punish meant have I deserved? or wherein have I offended? The maid which wilfully would have thrown her self into the fire, I stayed and saved her life: This were and honest excuse. The next day following, Chremes came to me exclaiming what a shameful Act it was, that Pam philus (as he had found out for certainty) used this stram ̄ ge naughty pack even as his wife: I straight way de nyed that there was any such matter, he earnestly of firms that it was so: well, in the end I parted from him, as one then utterly refusing to match his Daugh ter to my son. No, nor this was not cause great enough to rebuke him. He inought have answered thus: Father you your self have set a time when these things shall cease: ywis it is not long hence that I must live after and others pleasure: suffer me than, now in the mean while to live as I list my self. Marry, if for cause of this love he shall refuse to take a wife, Than lo, for that offence will I first cor rect him to begin with all. And now my endeavour is this, that by means of this feigned marriage, I may have unfeigned cause to rebuke him, if he do not agree to it: And with all that the naughty knave Davus, if he have any subtle device, may spend it now, while his craft can do no harm: whom I verily believe will labour with tooth and nail, to the uttermost that in him lies, and so much the rather that he may work me a displeasure, than for any care he hath to follow my sons fancy. Ask you why so? And ill mind, and ill meaning: whom if I shall percive, But what need I use many words, and if so be it, all do fallen out as I would, that there be no let or delay in my son Pamphilus: Than rests that I entreat Chremes for his Daughter, and that I hope to bring to pass well enough. Now is it thy part to set on a good face in feigning this same mar riage: to make Davus thoroughly afraid, and to be a watch over my son, espying what he does, and where of Davus and he do consult together. Go thou first, I will come anon. TO Here is no doubt of this, but that my Son will refuse to have a wife: I no ted such fear er while in Davus, as soon as he hard that there was a mar riage towards: but lo where he comes forth himself. Simo speaks this out of the hearing of Davus. But now he will, and that, as I ween to thy cost. What prates this Gallowelapper? Davus? What is that thou talkest of? Askest thou whereof? Sirrah, the report is that my son is in love. Nay, but dost thou mind what I speak to thee or not? Well, for Me now to go search and fifth out that mat ter, were but the partly of a harden father: for what he did heretofore, pertains nothing at all to me: so long as he took time convenient for it, I suffered him to fulfil his desire. Now it is high time for him to lead and other life, and change his manners. And therefore I require, or if it be reason I desire Thee Dauos, that now at length he do return into the right way. All men that been in love, can ill away to have wives appointed them by others. Then if one take a knave for his scholmaister in that behalf, The love sick mind of the scholar is by him commonly applied to all naughtiness. No, dost thou not? Wilt thou then that I speak the rest of my mind plainly. If I shall perceive that thou go about to work a nigh deceit this day, to the end to break of this mar riage, or that thou wilt therein show how sly and craft ty a companion thou art: I will kudgill thee well and thriftely, and then cast thee into the grinding house to grind till thou die: with this covenant and condition, that if I take Thee out thence, then I my self to grind in thy place. What, hast thou understood me now? or dost thou not yet understand this neither? I could rather bear any abuse at thy hands, than been deluded in this matter. What, dost thou laugh me to scorn? I see I am not a whit deceived in Thee: But I tell Thee this, that thou be not over rash, and that thou mayest not hereafter say but thou hadst a fair warning. I N good earnest Davus it is no time now to be flow and fluggish, so far as I per ceiued of late by the old men speech tou ching the marriage: which if it be not cunningly provided for and prevented, will cast either me or my master clean under foot: And yet I wot not in the world what to do: whither I shall help Pamphilus, or else listen of ter the old man. If I leave him helpless, I fear me that will cost him his life: Contrariwise, if I aid and fur there him, than stand I in fear of the old men threat ning, whom that is a hard matter to beguile: for first and foremost, he knoweth certainly of this same love, and being at deadly feud with me, he watches least I go about some guile to hinder the marriage: if he shall see any such matter by Me, I am utterly undone: or if the Toy take him in the head, he will find some cause or other, and so been it right or wrong, he will tum ble me headlong into the grinding house: Now over and beside these mischiefs, this comes also in the very icke: This same woman and of Andros whither she be wife to Pamphilus, or but his love, I know not, but great with child she is by him: And it is a world to hear their presumption: They fare as they were lunatic, and not love sick, for be it boy or girl that she shall be delivered of, they are determined to bring it It was not Lawful in A them to bring up the children begotten out of wedlock upon strange wome ̄ , but rather to do them a way. up. And now they feign betwixt themselves and odd piece of craft, that this Glycerie is a free born woman of A them: There was a good while since (say they) a certain old Merchant which suffered shipwreck at the I'll of Andros, who afterwards died there: and that she being then a small succourless child cast on the shore, should (forsooth) been fostered by Chrysis father: A trim fable. In good faith me thinks it sounds nothing Like troth, and yet this feigned devise pleases them well. But lo where Mysis comes forth from her. Now will I go get me hence to the market place to meet with Pamphilus, least his father come upon him unawares with this ma riage matter. A Rchillis, I herd you a pretty while since, bid that Lesbian should be brought hither: In very truth she is a drunken harebrained woman, and far unfit to take charge of a woman in travail of her first child: yet nevertheless I will bring her: See how earnest the old Trot is, to have her here, and all because she is a drinking Gossip of hers. God grant my Mistress safe and speedy deliverance, and that any other miscarry under the hands of the Tip sie Midwiefe, rather than she: But what is the matter that I see Pamphilus so much out of quiet, I fear me all is not well: I will stay, and know whither this his trouble of mind, bring not some hea vy news. I S this a point of good nature, or a kind lie deed? Is this the partly of a Father? Simo says this to himself, having Davus and Pamphilus in sighed. I see them both present before my face. Pamphilus. I will have Thee to been married to day, as I told Thee before. Thou dost as becomes Thee, in that I obtain with thy good will, y e thing which I require at thy hands. Now go thy ways in, that there be no tarrying for Thee when need is. What says Davus? What, is it nothing thou sayest? But I had hoped to hear somewhat. Canst thou tell Me truth? Is my son any thing grieved at this marriage, in respect of the love and familiarity betwixt him and this strange harlotry? I commend him for it. Me thought that he was somewhat sad. What is that? What is it, I say? But yet tell me what it is? What, by Me? Sirrah hold you your peace. I will see those things cared for well enough: but what is the meaning of this? what is it that this de ceitfull knave goes about? surely if any thing happen otherwise than well, even that same varlet is the chief worker of it. This talk be tween Mysis and the mid wife is over herd by Simo, whom they see not. I N good sooth Lesbian, it is very true as you say: one shall hardly find a man that is faithful and true of his word to a woman. This maid belongs to her of Andros, how sayest thou? He speaks still to Davus, & Mysis goes on with her speech, not hea ring him. What sayeth she? What? Oh the king of heaven, what is this I hear? Why, all is passed help, at least if it be true that this maid tells. What means this? does he dote so much on this strange harlat indeed? Now I perceive how this gear cottens: I scarce found it out now at last, foolish man that I am. That knave seeks to abuse me with this falsehood first and foremost. They feign that this quean is brought a bed, to th'end that so they may driven Chremes from giving his daughter. Whup hoyda: what in all the hast? see a foolish devise: as soon as she herd me at the door, she straight falls in labour: Davus, this was not half cunningly contrived of Thee, each thing in his endue time. Why make you it so strange, have you forgotten your scholar? If this knave had set his craft a broche against me unawares, and in a marriage meant in good earnest: what pranks would he than have played Me, trow you? But now, be it upon his peril: as for me I am safe. H Itherto Archillis I see all good signs of health in her, that are usual & ought to been in a woman in her case: Now first and foremost, cause you those things to be washed, and then give her that drink, and the same quantity that I ap appointed for her. I will come back again hither by and by. Before God there is a jolly bouncing boy born unto Pamphilus: Now I pray God send him long to live, because he hath so honest a man to his father, who had care & conscience not to deal amiss with this kind hearted young woman. And who that knew Thee, would not judge this all so to be a craft of thy budget. So as Simo thinks that Glycerie is not brought a bed, but that all this is feigned to blear his eyes with all. She did not will them while she was in the house, to do what was needful for the woman that lies in, but after she was come forth, she kept a prattling out of the street, unto them which were within doors. Why Davus, am I so little set by of Thee? Or I pray Thee, do I seem so fit a man, for Thee to seek to beguile, with such manifest fraud and falsehood? At least wise thou dost thy diligence, so as I may well seem to been put in fear by Thee: Surely if I had known it before. Why, did I not give Thee straight charge to the contrary? did I not threaten Thee with punishment, that thou shouldst not do it? did it fear Thee a whit? what hath it booted? Shall I now give Thee credit in this: that she there, is brought a bed of child by Pam philus? Did any body tell Me so? He laughs Me to scorn. How? marry because I knew Thee. Yea I am well assured of that. Do not I know Thee knave? That is a lie. This one thing I am sure of, that here is no woe man delivered of child. How camest thou to know this? There be many things more than one, which cause me to conjecture as I do: Even now, is the first time that this quean declared her self to be with child by Pam philus, which is but a false devise. Moreover, now that she sees preparation at home for the wedding, the maid forsooth, in all hast is sent for the midwife to come to her, and withal to bring also a child with her. What sayest thou? when thou once understoodst that they purposed such a matter, why didst thou not than presently tell it unto Pamphilus? Very well, go thy ways in, stay there till I come: and provide what is needful. Davus being gone in, Simo turn his tale to the audiens. He could not driven it in to my head, to make me believe all this, neither am I certain whither all that he told me be true or no: But I pass not greatly for that. Marry the matter I stand most upon, is the promise which my son himself made unto me: Now will I go meet with Chremes: I will entreat him for his daughter to my son in marriage, and if I do obtain her, why should I make any more daying for the matter, but marry them out of the way? for as touching my sons promise, I have no doubt at all, if he shall refuse to perform it, but I may full rightly compel him to it. But lo yonder where Chremes himself comes towards Me, even in as good time as may be. G ODD save you neighbour Chremes. And I you. Hear me a word, or two, and you shall soon know both what I desire of you, and also what you require of me. Chremes I beseech you for Gods sake, and for our friendships sake begun betwixt us from our childhood, and grown together with our years: I beseech you as you love your only daughter, & as you tender my son, whom it lies in you chiefly to save or to spill, y to you will help me now in this matter, and Like as the mar riage should have been, that so now, it may be made up betwixt them. Yea Chremes, even so is my meaning, and there before do I request that it may be effected. Neither would I request it at your hands, if the matter if self did not give me good occasion. Marry sir, my son and Glycerie are fallen out. Nay, but so far fallen out, as I hope they may be quite set a sunder. Nay, without doubt it is as I say. Alas, I pray you then, let us now prevent that, while time is, and while his hight love is alaid with bit ter words: Let us couple him to a wife, before that this naughty parks shrewd crafts, and feigned tears, do work again his lovesick mind, unto pity and come passion: I hope (Chremes) that being once reclaimed, by means of good company and honest wedlock, he will afterwards, w to case, wind himself out of these mischéefs. How can you know that, until you have made trial of it? Well yet, the very worst and uttermost of all, can be but a divorce or separation, if any such matter should happen, as God forbid it should: But contrari wise, if by this means he do amend and become a new man, see than how many commodities ensue: First and foremost, you shall restore to your Friend his son: next, you shall find a sure son in law to your self, and lastly, a stayed husband to your daughter. Chremes, not without good cause have I always set most store by you of any man. What? Even Davus himself, the chief of their privy Council, did tell it me. And he likewise persuades me to hasten this marriage, as much as I may: Think you he would have done this, unless he were sure that my son desires the same? You shall hear him your self, by and by. Holo sirs, call me out Davus hither. But see yonder where he comes forth of him self. I was coming to you. well, what is the matter? Simo says this softly to Chre mes. Do you not here him. Well Davus, I stood somewhat in fear of Thee erewhile, least thou (as the common sort of servants are wont) shouldst by craft and knavery have deceived me, in respect that my son is in love. I was of that belief, and therefore fearing such a matter, I kept secret from my son and Thee, that which now I will tell Thee. Thou shalt know, for now in a manner, I begin to have some trust in Thee. This marriage, was not meant to have been made indeed. No, but I feigned it of purpose, that I might thoroughly try you. It is even so as I tell Thee. Nay but listen to me, as soon as I bade Thee go hence in, this man met me in excellent good time. I show him all that thou toldst me erewhile. I entreat him for his daughter, and with much a do I obtain her. Hah, what sayest thou? Now is there no let or delay on this men behalf. Now Davus I pray Thee, sith thou alone hast brought this marriage for Me to pass: That thou wilt yet moreover labour my sons amendment. Thou mayest now well do it, especially while he is netteled at the heart. Go to then, But where is he now? Simo depar teth and Davus stays still. I will go to him, and tell him my mind in the same sort, as I told it Thee. Nay rather (neighbour Chremes ) I most instant lie request and beseech you, that you will now per form in deed, the good turn that ere while you promi said me on your word. With what unreasonableness? I beseech you for Gods sake, not to give your mind to credit those, whose greatest profit grows by my sons lewdest living: All this, is but forged and framed for the nonce, by reason of this marriage: when the cause why they do this, is once taken away, Then they will cease. I grant you. I believe it well, and that they would do so, Davus fortolde me a pretty while since, but I wot not how, otherwise than I meant, I forgotten to tell you somuch. A TO my word, now (at length) set your heart at rest: Thus Simo and Chremes do talk betwixt themselves, & Davus goes on still in his speech. Whence comes he? He speaks out of Davus hearing. What knavery is that? And so here likewise. Whom does this varlet prays thus? Why do I linger to speak to him? Oh, all hail to you honest man. Oh it is trimly done of you. Very well surely: that is the cause forsooth he is now absent: Nay but answer me to this, what business hast thou there? That is in Glyceries house Yea. Yea, you sirrah. As though I asked how long ago it was. Why than, and is Pamphilus within? I am still vexed unhappy man that I am. Why thou hang man thou, didst not thou tell me that they are fallen at debate. What makes he there than? What tidings bringest thou? And what says he, I pray you? Simo calls for him that whips the slaves. Hola howh, Dromo, Dromo. Dromo. If thou speak one word more— Dromo. Hoist up this knave on thy back, and carry him in as fast as thou canst. Davus. Because I will have it so, take him away I say. Away with him. I will not here one word: I shall set Thee in a beat by and by, I warrant Thee. He speaks to Dromo. Yea nevertheless, sirrah see thou that he be kept fast fettered: and hearest thou me? bind his hands and feet together, He turns his speech to Davus and Pamphilus. Now sir go to: By God if I live this day to and end, I will teach Thee and him both, what danger it is for the one of you to beguile his master, and for the other to deceive his father. Oh Chremes, do you not pity me, to see what re verend regard my son hath towards me? and that I should take somuch travail for such a son? Well go to Pamphilus: Come out here Pamphilus, Is there no shame in Thee? W Ho calls me? Oh I am undone, it is my father. What sayest thou? thou errand— Yea as though there could be any name to ill for this fellow. Now sirrah, do you say the same too? Is Glycerie free bone of this City? So it is reported? Oh wonderful impudence, doth he consider what he say, think you? is he any thing sorry for his misdeed? Nay but see, doth his colour a nigh whit change, or show any sign of shamefastness? is it meet he should be so unruly, as that contrary to the custom of his cuntrimen, contrary to law, and con trary to the mind of his father, he do labour to have that same naughty pack, even to his utter infamy and reproach? Oh Pamphilus, Pamphilus, dost thou now per ceiue that, and never before? Long since ywis, long since, when thou gavest thy mind so lewdly, as that by one mean or other thou must fulfil thy lust: lo, even that very first day, had this been truly said of Thee. But what mean I? why do I vex and disquiet my self? why do I consume my self with care? why do I wear my old age, with sorrowing for his madness? is it, that I should suffer punishment for his faults? Nay rather, let him have her: and farewell he: let him live with her and spare not. What my good father? as who should say, you have any need of this father: why, you have God you house, and wife, and children, and all maugre your father's heart. There be also those brought, which of firm that same quean to be free born of this city: well, you shall have the victory. What wilt thou say to me? I hear him Chremes? what should I hear him? Well go too, he may speak, I let him not. That thou mayest bring him here? I am content. Chremes, I yield to any thing, so that I find not my self to be deceived by this fell low. What, is it for Me thou askest? why sirrah, dost thou say that Glycerie is free born of this City? What, and art thou come so well provided in deed. Askest thou why? shalt thou do this, and escape un punished? dost thou toll here into thy snare, young men void of experience, and honestly brought up? Art thou he that feedest forth their minds with enticing & fair promising? And dost thou make marriages betwixt them and the harlots that they are in love withal? May this fellow be and honest man? comes he this day so jump in the very time of this marriage: and could he come never before now? why Chremes, is this a man to been believed? Hah fogging knave. Now he begins a fable. Nay what sayest thou? What think you of this? I knew the man, and I wot well he was your bro there. Now in good faith, I am glad that by many proofs she is found to be your daughter. Chremes, I ween you believe that we all rejoice at this. The matter it self hath reconciled me a good while since. Yea marry, that. And why do you not rather cause her to be brought hither to you? He cannot. Marry because he hath a great matter of his own, which touches him nearer. He lies bound in prison. Not so, I commanded it. Go to, be it so. I go in straight way. Come your way hither to Me. Dost thou not answer Me?