Andria the first comoedie of Terence, in English. A furtherance for the attainment vnto the right knowledge, & true proprietie, of the Latin tong. And also a commodious meane of help, to such as haue forgotten Latin, for their speedy recouering of habilitie, to vnderstand, write, and speake the same. Carefully translated out of Latin, by Maurice Kyffin.

ANDRIA The firſt Comoedie of Terence, in Engliſh.

A furtherance for the attainment vnto the right knowledge, & true proprietie, of the Latin Tong. And alſo a commodious meane of help, to ſuch as •… ue forgotten Latin, for their ſpeedy recouering of habilitie, to vnderſtand, write, and ſpeake the ſame.

Carefully tranſlated out of Latin, by Maurice Kyffin.

Haud fruſtrà Spero.

Comoedia, Imitatio Vitae: Speculum Conſuetudinis: Imago Veritatis.

Cic.

Printed at London by T.E. for Thomas Woodcocke, at the Signe of the black Beare in Paules Churchyard. 1588.

Plura Poſthac.

author's device HAVD FRVSTRA SPERO.

M Kyffin

INVITA INVIDIA

In M. Kyffini Andriam. CAutè ſectatus quondam, ſapienſque Menandrum, Aeternum nomen Publius eſt meritus. Conſimiles laudes puto te Kyffine mereri, Afri quod Vatis ſtrictè imitere pedem. Namque aliena ſequi, quam ſit veſtigia magnum Noui. Qui neſcit, carpere ſolus auet. Andria multarum fuit illi prima ſororum: Andria ſit caueas vltima ſcena tibi. W. Morgan.

In Andriam a M. Kyffino Angl. donatam. ARte laborata prodit vetus Andria, veſte Cultior: & noſtris nunc magis apta ſcholis. Reſtat, vt Eunuchum, reliquoſque annectere libros Pergas: nam facilis iam labor omnis erit. Th. Lloid.

Eiuſdem in Zoylum. INuide quid turges? quid non laudabile cernis? Dic, ſi diſpliceat, quis meliora dedit?

In Andriam Anglicè a M. Kyffino conuerſam. G. Camdeni Tetraſtichon. DVm laudes cumulare tuas Kyffine parabam, Andria quòd ſtudiis facta ſit Angla tuis: Adſtitit en ſtatim, ridenſque Terentius inquit, Quid vis? quid laudas? carpere nemo poteſt.

In amiciſs, ſui, M. Kyffini Andriam, Petri Bizari Carmen. VT nemo ex Comicis, Latina lingua Quos effert, potuit Terentianum Stylum vincere, candidum, & nitentem, Purumque, ac ſine fuco, & arte mira Constructum, ac ſalibus facetijsque Conditum vndi que , et omnibus placentem: Sic nemo tua ſcripta, quae Terentii Senſus, verbáque in Anglicum relata Sermonem, enucleant, venuſta & apta, Verborum ſerie, optimîſque verbis Vincet. Perge itaque, vt facis, iuuare Et dulcem patriam, & ſimul perennem Aeternamque tibi parare laudem. Petrus Bizarus.

R. Cooke to the Readers of Mr. Kyffins Tranſlation. THE perfect pattern of pure Latin ſpeche, In Engliſh phraſe moſt fitly here expreſt, Yelds Pleaſure, Profit, Eaſe, and Aide, to eche, That would of Latin language be poſſeſt. Thank Kyffin then, whoſe pen hath purchaſt praiſe: His pain (your gaine) deſerues the ſame alwaies.

TO THE RIGHT WOORSHIPFVLL, AND woorthy gentleman, Maiſter VVilliam Sackeuille, ſonne to the Right honorable (my verie good L. and Maiſter) The Lord Buckhurſt, one of her Maieſties moſt honorable priuie Councell.

SIR, by intermiſsion of your noble exerciſes in feats of Armes, and your ſtudious endeuor emploied in forrein tongs: I muſt needes craue at your hands, to vouchſafe ſome ſpare tyme (for your recreation) in the interteinment of your old acquaintance Pub. Terē tius: whom I here preſent vnto you, in ſuch and ſo much, Engliſh attire, as my poore iudgement found fitteſt for him to be clad withall.

Whyle he liued at Rome, his moſt company, and conuerſation, was among the Nobilitie, and moſt of al other, with thoſe twoo noble and learned gentlemen, Laelius, and Scipio Africane: In like ſort, after his death, his woorks were right currantly accounted of, and highly commended, by the two Princes of eloquence, euen Caeſar, and Cicero: as their own vvritings do witnes the ſame vnto vs. Therefore, ſith Terence, neither aliue, nor dead, did euer vvant a noble Moecenas to protect him: I hope that novv, being partly put into engliſh, & hauing cheefly choſen you for his Patrone in Englād: you likevviſe, in regard of your noble birth, & vertues, wil graunt him like curteous & frendly fauour, as by theſe noble men in Rome, vvas heretofore affoorded vnto him. I truſt alſo he ſhal be neuer the vvoorſe vvelcome vnto you, in that he is diligently attended on, vvith my poore name: & like as my firſt attempt to tranſlate him, proceeded cheefly frō you, ſo look I that my labour ſpēt on him, ſhal be fauorablie protected by your vvhich to me vvill bee a thing much comfortable, & to you nothing cūberſome. And ſo, fully reſting, & relying my ſelfe on your vvonted curteſies, I here make an end: & beſech the almighty, ſtil to increaſe & accōpliſh, thoſe his good gifts & graces, vvhich he hath placed in you moſt ſhining & apparant.

At London. Decemb. 3. 1587. By your wor, alwaies to be commaunded Maurice Kyffin.

TO THE RIGHT WOORSHIPFVL GENTLEmen, maiſter Henry, and maiſter Thomas Sackeuille, ſonnes to the Right Honorable the Lord Buckhurſt (one of her Maieſties moſt honorable Priuie Councell,) Maurice Kyffin wiſheth all health, and happines.

IT is now full. 7. yeeres (as you can well remēber) ſince I firſt attempted the tranſlation of Andria into Engliſh verſe, being thereto partely incited by your meanes: But afterward perceiuing what difficultie it was, to enforce the pithie and prouerbiall ſayings of Terence into Rime, and withall what inconuenience grew, by reaſon of diuers ſeuerall Speakers, ſometime ſeuerally happening, within the length of one line or leſſe: I playnely ſaw, that ſuch manner of forced tranſlation, muſt needs be both harſh and vnpleaſāt to the Reader, and alſo not halfe ſeemly beſitting the ſweete ſtyle and eloquence of the Author. So as hauing thus tranſlated the whole Comoedie in verſe (ſauing the two laſt leaues) my paines beſtowed therein did ſomuch miſlike me, as that euer ſithens yt lay by me, vtterly neglectted, and neuer fully finiſhed: Tyll that now of late, being by ſome, much requeſted to make common the ſame, for the benefit of ſuch as ſtudie the latin: I haue therevpon ſomwhat altered my cours, and indeuored to turne it into proſe, as a thing of leſſe labour in ſhow, and more libertie in ſubſtance, ſeeming withall, moſt accordant, with this Comicall kinde of writing. And bicauſe I am not ignorant, with what ardent loue, and liking, you haue alwaies, moſt ſtudiouſlie embraced all good Authors: (being of your ſelues, euen naturally inclined, to all learning and knowledge:) I cannot therfore, but recomēd to your fauour, this peece of Terence, bearing the frame of my poore workemanſhip: which I deſire you, at idle, and vacant times, to vouchſafe to peruſe, both for Terence ſake, whom I am ſure you loue: And alſo at my requeſt, whom I know you do not hate. And ſo I commit you to the moſt gracious Protection of the Higheſt.

A Preface to the curteous Reader.

AMONG all the Romane writers, there is none (by the iudgement of the learned) ſo much auailable to bée read and ſtudied, for the true knowledge and puritie of the Latin tong, as Pub. Terentius: for, ſith the chéefeſt matter in ſpeech, is to ſpeak properly and aptly, and that we haue not a more cunning Craftſ-maſter of apt and proper ſpéech than Terence, well woorthy is he then, euen with all care and dilligence, to be both taught and learned before any other. And ſurely, great is the pity, that Terence were not more vſed of maiſters in teaching, and made more familiar to ſchollers in learning, than commonly it is: being (as I haue knowen my ſelfe) by dyuers men, in diuers ſentences, diuerſly miſvnderſtood: for, the Author in many places, vſing abbreuiations, and figuratiue ſpéeches, aſwell in regard of his verſe, as alſo that ſuch maner of writing, was very eloquent and familiar in his tyme: doth thereby cauſe the ſence ſéeme very doubtful, to ſuch Readers as are not fully acquainted with him: which comes to paſſe, by meanes that this booke, is not ſo frequented in ſchooles, nor laboured in ſtudie, according to the woorthines of it: but other baſe and inferior bookes, commonly preferd before it, to the vtter marring, and maiming of Schollers both in ſtile and iudgement.

Though this Comoedie, now engliſhed, perhaps ſéeme not altogether ſo pleaſant, as could be wiſhed, neither in matter, nor manner of handling: Yet is it to be conſidered (beſides that it léeſeth his natural grace, being turnd into another language) that the tyme when, and the place where, it was firſt publiſhed in Latin, affoorded no other ſort of Comoedies than this is. And therefore, it was no part of my meaning, to trāſlate the ſame, as a thing either pleaſant to be played, or very delightful to bée read: (Notwithſtanding that this Author was moſt excellent, and moſt learned, of any that wrote in this kinde:) but eſpecially, for that the Latin is pure & eloquent, much commended by Tullie himſelfe, & right requiſite to be ſtudied, & vnderſtood of all ſuch, as would attaine to the knowledge of right ſpeaking, and readines of wel writing, in the Latin tong: for whoſe only ſakes (and alſo at the earneſt requeſt of ſome, whom I was deſirous to ſatiſfy) I haue aduentured the engliſhing hereof: wiſhing, that as I haue thus boldly begoon with the firſt, ſo ſome other hauing more leiſure, and learning, would go thorough with the reſt of the Comedies. I haue vſed (as neere as I could) the moſt knowen, vſuall, and familiar phraſes in common ſpéech, to expreſſe the authors meaning, as (to my thinking) beſt agréeing therewithall. Neuertheles, I make account my doing herein, ſhall be carpt and caueld at by ſome, from whoſe malicious cenſure, euen the beſt writers can not ſcape vntouched, and therefore no marueile if they ſpurne at me. Of which kinde of men, I haue knowen by experience, & noted for memory, twoo ſorts: One ſort pretending a ſhew of learning, & being indéed but very dunſes, loue to be ſpeaking they wot not what, to diſgrace they care not whom, and yet not rendring any reaſon why, but onely to feed their owne bad humours: In whom, true iudgement, being altogether ſuppreſt, what with affection, or ignorance, or both: as either mooued by fond lyking, to commend that is bad: or ſtird with fowle hatred to diſpraiſe that is good: are thus commonly carried along, with the vaine tyde and winde of their willes, without any regard of right, or due reſpect of wrong. An other ſort (whereof I knew ſome good ſchollers, the more the pity) blinded with ouerweening of themſelues, and miſlyking al other mens dooings (how wel ſoeuer they deſerue:) like onely of their owne, be they neuer ſo mean: neuer geuing any man his due, fearing, by like, whatſoeuer commendation is attributed to others, that the ſame muſt néeds be a derogation frō themſelues: wherin they are far vnlike Tullie, the welſpring of wit and learning: who alwaies praiſed, all men of deſert, euen in thoſe things, wherein he both deſired, and deſerued, moſt praiſe himſelfe: This is read of Tullie, to his great praiſe, and remembred of others to their iuſt reproch. And here, leaſt perchance I be miſtaken more than I would, & miſconſtrued otherwiſe than I meane, though my woords before doo ſufficiently declare my meaning: yet (to auoyd all dowt) it ſhall not be amiſſe, if I ad a few more in this place. To diſalow the iudgement of ſuch, as by learning can, and by reaſon know, where, when, and how, to finde fault, as iuſt cauſe and matter ſhall lead them: were to be wilfully blinde, and obſtinately fooliſh: God forbid I ſhould be ſo vnreaſonable, or that men ſhould iudge of mée ſo vnrightly.

Of the curious Carper I looke not to be fauoured, and yet if my labour may be equally compared with my Authors words and meaning, I doubt not but it will appeare vnto him, an eaſier matter to finde fault with part, than to amend the whole.

Onely, I ſubmit this poore tranſlation vnto the vew & iudgement of the learned: who lyking the Truth, and louing to ſpeake Truth, will both allow what is well don, and amend that is amiſſe: As for others, I ſee not but that they ought firſt to learne, before they take vppon them to Controll:

Farewel.

To all young Students OF THE LATIN TONG (for whoſe onely help and benifit this Comoedie is publiſhed) Maurice Kyffin, wiſheth encreaſe of knowledge, & finall perfection.

HOw neceſſarie, the vſe and familiaritie of Terence, is for all ſuch, as would attaine, vnto ripenes in vnderſtanding, readynes in ſpeaking, and right iudgement in writing Latin: is a thing, ſo commonly knowen and confeſſed of all men, as I ſhall not néede any reaſons to prooue the ſame. Therefore, for the better furthering of thoſe, that as yet are vnacquainted with him, I was the rather perſwaded, to publiſh this my Tranſlation of Andria: wherein, whither my labour meriteth, ought, or nought, Aliorum ſit Iudicium.

My chéefeſt care hath bin, to lay open the meaning of the Author, eſpecially, in all hard and difficult places of this Comoedie, and to vtter the ſame, in ſuch apt, plaine, and familiar words, as are moſt méete, for this low ſtile and Argument: for, to handle a meane matter, with high and lofty phraſe, were as great ouerſight, & lack of iudgement as could be.

Touching the interpretation of ſome places in Andria. I was forced to diſſent, from ſome of no ſmall Authoritie, and ſpecially from one very learned man, who occaſioned (in a work that he wrote) to engliſh certaine diſperſed phraſes of Terence, hath (without offence be it ſpoken) ſo engliſhed ſome, and namely in Andria, as I am faine to forſake the ſame, and giue other quite contrary engliſhe vnto them.

One of thoſe places in Andria, hath theſe words: Aliquid monſtri alunt. Act. 1. Scen. 5. By him thus engliſhed: They bring ſome monſtrous creature: And by mée in this ſort: They cloake ſome ſecret fault in her: which may bee ſéene, interpreted to that effect, by Eraſ. Roterod. handling that place in his Chiliads.

An other place, is this, (conteining the anſwere of Pamphilus vnto Carinus:) Neque pol conſilij locum habeo, neque auxilij copiam: Act. 2. Scen. 1. which he hath thus engliſhed: I neither haue place to take counſaill, nor helpe of any man: and by me contrariwiſe, as thus: In good faith, I am neither a meete man to geue counſail, nor yet haue wherewith to helpe another. Now to prooue that I haue geuen it a right Engliſh: read that page in Terence, and you ſhall ſoone fynde, that of neceſſitie the ſence muſt ſo be ment and taken. Some other like places I could recite, but theſe ſhall ſuffice for a Say: whereof I thought good to aduertiſe you, to thend you may ſée, that my diſſenting (in theſe points) from a man of ſo great learning and authority, hath not bin without vrgent occaſion.

One thing more I muſt note vnto you, that commonly in all bookes of Terence, this place of Andria, [Num quod tuiſperas propulſabo facile] Act. 2. Scene. 3. is noted thus in the margine: Speras .j. times: which, put the caſe, Speras were here ſo to bée vnderſtood (as I ſée no reaſon why it ſhould) yet neuertheles, the ſence remaines ſtill very lame and vnperfect: vnderſtand you therefore, that as Dauus in that Scene, counſelleth Pamphilus to make anſweare to his father that he will marry: ſo Pamphilus on the other ſide, (fearing that would bée a meane to induce marriage betwixt him and Philumena) will not in a good while geue conſent thereunto: thinking (as it ſéemes) that by not aſſenting to his fathers will therein, he ſhall be quite freed from marrying either her, or any other: for hée hoped that no man would geue him his doughter in marryage, ſith his ſtate and condition was ſo to be reiected: wherefore Dauus perceiuing whereupon he moſt inſiſted: ſéekes to diſſwade him from the ſame, and among other reaſons vſeth this: Nam quod tu ſperas, propulſabo facile, Vxorem his moribus Dabit nemo: Iuueniet inopem potius quam te corrumpi ſinat. Which (for your better vnderſtanding) I haue thus tranſlated by way of Paraphraſe:

For as for that vaine hope of yours (imagining thus with your ſelfe, tuſh it is no danger for mee to withſtand my father: No man will marry his doughter vnto a man of my manners) I ſhall eaſily put you out of that hope: hee wil finde out a poore and mean marriage for you, rather than hee will ſuffer you to bee ſp • t by Harlots. In the interpretation of this place. I haue wholly relyed vpon the iudgement of that learned man Muretus, who expoundeth the ſame to this effect. By this you may ſee, that it much better beſitteth the woord Speras, here in this place, to haue his owne naturall ſignification of Hope, than that wreſted ſignification of Feare. I know by experience, that ſome Scholemaſters are to ſeeke in theſe matters themſelues, and therefore no maruayll though their Schollers be ignorant. And here I remember one Scholemaiſter aboue the reſt: who (notwithſtanding hée were maiſter of Art,) was yet ſo blunt and vnſkilfull in Terence, as (among other errors) he taught his Schollers to vnderſtand this place of Andria [Non tu ibi gnatum] in this ſort. Non tu ibi gnatum ſupple Negaſti: Act 1. Scen. 1. whereas it manifeſtly appeareth by the next lyne following, that the woord Obiurgaſti is there to be vnderſtood, and not Negaſti. Moreouer, for that the not well vnderſtanding of the Argument of this comoedie, hath in diuers, bred errors and miſtakings: I haue therefore bin carefull herein to explane the Argument at large vnto you: and withall, to ſet downe each particular Argument before euery Scene. Lykewyſe, by my notes in the margine, you ſhall be inſtructed (as occaſion is offered) touching any dowtfull ſpéeches of the ſpeakers: as whether they ſpeake vnto him that ſpake laſt before, or elſe to the audience, or to themſelues.

Thus, haue I for your ſakes, bin carefull to diſſolue all dowts, and difficulties, in this part of Terence: which, if I may perceiue, that you doo as curteouſly accept from me, as it is frendly ment for you: I ſhal bée more willing (if God ſpare me life and health) to pleaſure you hereafter in a greater matter: In the meane tyme, I commit you to God, and my ſelfe into your good loue and frendſhip.

Your faithfull wellwiller M. K.

The Argument of the COMOEDIE.

CHremes & Phania (two brethren) were citizens of Athens: which Chremes, taking his iourney into Aſia, left Paſsibula (as then his onely daughter) to the charge and ſafe keeping of his brother Phania: but not long after his departure, there enſued in Greece ſo great ſturre and tumult of warre, as that Phania determining to folow his brother into Aſia, did therefore embarke himſelfe (and his little Neece Paſsibula) for that voyage: But, a ſore tempeſt ariſing, he ſuſteined ſhipwrack in ſuch ſort, as both he and his forenamed Neece, were caſt on ſhore at the Ile of Andros, where he chaunced into the houſe of a certain dweller in that countrie, by whome he was gently receiued and relieued, & in whoſe houſe ſhortly after he died. After whoſe death, the good man of the houſe changed the name of the young childe, calling her by the name of Glycerie: and when he had by the ſpace of certeine yeeres, brought her vp with like care, and in like knowledge, as he did bring vp his owne daughter Chryſis, he likewiſe ended his lyfe. Chryſis (perceiuing her ſelfe bereft of Father and friends, & being alſo pinched with pouertie) toke Glycerie with her, and ſayled to Athens. In which Citie, during a ſmall ſeaſon, ſhe earned her liuing by Wooll and making Cloth: but afterward, being haunted by certain youths, who fed her with guifts and faire promiſes, ſhe (ouercome by thoſe men, and by theſe meanes) yelded the vſe of her bodie for gaine. Among other younkers, Pamphilus the ſonne of Simo, a well minded young man, dyd oftentimes reſort to the houſe, not for her ſake, but onely for the great loue and liking he bare vnto Glycerie: by whome Glycerie, (within a while,) proouing to be with childe, he made faithfull promis vnto her, that he would make her his wife. By this time, Chremes (hauing long ſince returned home to Athens,) had an other daughter become marriageable, named Philumena, whome he much deſired to match in marriage with Pamphilus, in reſpect of the good report that generally went of him: Wherevpon, by his owne ſeeking vnto Simo for the ſame, the match with conſent of both parents, is made vp, & vtterly vnawares vnto Pamphilus, a day is appointed for the marriage.

In the meane ſeaſon Chryſis dyeth, by which meanes Simo came firſt to knowledge that his ſonne is in loue. For at the buriall of Chryſis, Glycerie for pure griefe and ſorrow being about to haue throwen her ſelfe into the fire with the coars, was ſo ſpeedely ſtayed, and ſo louingly recomforted by Pamphilus, as thereby their wonted loue and familiaritie was manifeſtly bewrayed. Herevpon Chremes reuoked his former offer, declaring how he had certaine intelligence that Pamphilus vſed this ſtrange minion for his wife: little thinking that ſhe whome he termed by ſo vile a name, was his owne daughter.

Pamphilus (at length) perceiuing that Chremes brake of the marriage, was very ioyfull: Simo on the other ſide was exceeding ſorry. The day once appointed for the wedding, is come. Simo therfore of meere craft and pollicie (determining to feele the mynde of his ſonne Pamphilus) pretendeth notwithſtanding all this, that the marriage ſhall bee made out of hand: with intent that if his ſonne ſhould refuſe to marrye, that thereby hee might haue good occaſion to reprehend him, which till then hee could not well doo. But contrarywiſe, yf his ſonne ſhould conſent to marry, than hee hoped to obteyne his deſire at Chremes hands, and ſo to make vp the marriage preſently. Therefore meeting with his ſonne, (who little minded any ſuch matter) he ſpake thus vnto him: Pamphilus, go home and make thee ready, thou muſt be married to day.

Pamphilus ſoddeinly amaſed with theſe woords, knew neither what to ſay, nor what to doo: But Dauus (a craftie knauiſh ſeruant) ſmelling out the drift and deuiſe of the olde man, comes to Pamphilus and ſheweth by circumſtance of tyme, place, and perſons, the great vnlikelyhood of the marriage.

In this very time Carinus (a young man of Athens) exceedingly enamoured on Philumena, and heareing ſhe ſhould be furthwith married vnto Pamphilus, dyd therefore come to him and prayed him for Gods ſake, as he tendred his lyfe, that either he would not marry her at all, or at leaſt wiſe, that he would put of the marriage for a few dayes longer.

Pamphilus on the other ſide being wonderfully in loue with Glycerie, deſires nothing more than that he might haue quite and cleane ryddance of this ſame marriage pretended for him, and ſo made aunſwere vnto Carinus accordingly. To this ende therefore, Dauus aduiſeth Pamphilus to ſaye vnto his father, that he is willing to marry (though he ment nothing leſſe) hoping thereby both to ſatiſfie the minde of Simo, and withall to continue ſtill loue and familiaritie with Glycerie, hauing no miſtruſt in the world that Chremes would euer be induced to match his daughter Philumena vnto Pamphilus, whome he had once before reiected for his ſonne in lawe. But Pamphilus folowing this deuiſe of Dauus, is notably ouertaken, when and where he leaſt thought of: for Simo ſo much preuailed with Chremes by earneſt intreatie, as that contrarie to all expectation, the marriage matter is brought to that paſſe, euen to haue bene made out of hand: ſo as Dauus, hauing no other meane to ſhift of this marriage, cauſeth the childe, whereof Glycerie the ſame day was deliuered, to be layed before Simoes dore: which, when Chremes ſaw, and vnderſtoode to be the childe of Pamphilus, he ſtraight way falls of againe from performance of the marriage. Heerevpon enſueth great ſturre and hurleburly, till that by the comming of Crito from Andros to Athens, (by meere chaunce) euen the whole difficulty of the Comoedie is diſſolued: for thorough him, Chremes comes to certaine knowledge that Glycerie is his owne daughter, ſometime called by the name of Paſſibula: And ſo with great ioy and contentation of all parts, he giues Glycerie in marriage vnto Pamphilus, and Philumena to Carinus.

Some wil haue it conſiſt of 4. & thē the Prologue is ye firſt.¶The Comoedie conſiſts of three parts: to witte: 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Which in Latin are ſignified by theſe three woords: Propositio, Intentio, Conuersio.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . Propositio. The firſt, is Proposition, conteining the firſt Act and the beginning of variety of Speakers, ſome entring, ſome remaining on the Stage, and ſome departing away.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . Intentio. The ſecond is Intention or Full Sway, conteyning the growing on & continuance of all the hot ſturre, trouble and difficult ſtate of the Comoedie.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . Conuersio. The third and laſt part, is Conuersion, in the which all is turned to a ioyfull ende, and the whole matter made knowen.

By heedfull reading, and diligent marking, the due Decorum obſerued by Terence in his Comoedies, the ſcholer ſhall gather verie much pleaſure and profit, as for example, in this Comoedie of Andria, he oppoſeth ſeuerall ſpeakers, of ſeuerall natures, and contrary condicions, one to another: as, Simo beeing hot and teſty, is oppoſed vnto Chremes, a milde and moderate man. Pamphilus, a ſtayed and ſhamefaſt young man, is oppoſed vnto Carinus, a harebraind fellow voyde of diſcretion. Dauus, a ſlye and ſuttle ſeruant, is oppoſed vnto Byrria, a ſlouthfull and rechles fellow. Myſis, a ſober maide, is oppoſed vnto Leſbia, a drunken Goſsip. Crito, honeſt and poore, is oppoſed vnto Chryſis, diſhoneſt and rich.

Theſe perſōs, are of ſet purpoſe thus placed by Terence, to the end that the vndue demeanor in the one, may the ſooner be ſeen by the contrarie in the other.

Very ſinguler alſo is the eloquence of the Author, in ſetting downe the moane and complaint of Pamphilus, The Narration, Conſultation, and Reprehenſion of Simo: From which places, are to be learned choice woords, apt figures, and right order of ſpeaking Latin.

¶The ſpeakers in this Comoedie. Simo, the olde man. Soſia, the late Bondman. Dauus, the ſeruant. Myſis, the maide. Pamphilus, a young man. Byrria, the ſeruant. Lesbia, the Midwife. Glycerie, Louer vnto Pamphilus. Chremes, the olde man. Crito, the ſtranger. Dromo, the whipping Bedle.

¶Act. 1. Scen. 1. The Argument.

Simo diſcourſeth vnto his late Bondman, firſt of the honeſt life of his ſonne: And afterward of his falling in loue: Laſtlie he diſcloſeth for what cauſe he faineth a marriage for him.

Simo, the olde man. Soſia, the ſeruant.

SIrs, haue in theſe things: diſpatch. Soſia ſtay thou héere. I wil ſpeake a word or two with thée.

Soſia.

I know your minde alredie, you would haue theſe things wel handled.

Simo.

Nay, it is an other manner of matter.

So.

What is it ſir? that my ſcience can ſtande you in more ſteade than this comes to?

Si.

There is no néede of that ſcience, for this matter which I am now about: But faithfulneſſe and ſecrecie, which I alwaies noted to bée in thée, are the ſciences I haue néede of now.

So.

I long to know what is your will with mée.

Si.

Thou wotſt how reaſonable and eaſie a bondage thou hadſt with me, euer ſince the time I bought thée of a little one: and by cauſe thou didſt thy ſeruice honeſtlie, and with good will, lo, of a Bondſlaue I made thee my frée man, ſo as I rewarded thée with the very beſt thing I had.

So.

I remember it well.

Si.

I repent me not of that I did.

So.

Maſter, I am glad if I haue done, or doe, any ſeruice that may pleaſe you, and I thanke you with all my heart that you take it in good woorth: But yet this ſpéech of yours troubles mée: for this manner of ripping vp things paſt, is as it were an vpbrayding to one vnmindefull of a good turne done him: but ſpeake at a word what is your will with mée.

Si.

So will I doe, onelie this I tell thée firſt and formoſt: This marriage which thou wéeneſt to be certaine, is but a fained marriage.

So.

For what cauſe doo you pretend it than?

Si.

Thou ſhalt heare all the matter from the beginning, ſo ſhalt thou vnderſtand both my ſonnes lyfe, and my purpoſe, and alſo what I would haue thée do in this behalfe. When my ſonne grew to mannes eſtate, it lay in his power to liue more at randon, for till than, how could a man know his nature, or diſcerne his diſpoſition, while as tender yéeres, fearefullneſſe, and his Maſter, kept him vnder.

So.

It is true Sir.

Si.

That which all young men for the moſt parts do applying their minds to ſome kinde of ſtudie or other, as either to horſes, and horſmanſhip: or to kéepe hounds for hunting, or to ſtudie Philoſophie: he gaue himſelfe ſpeciallie, to none of theſe things more than other, and yet was reaſonablie well ſéene in them all: I was glad of it.

So.

And good cauſe why, for I holde it a verie commodious matter in a mans lyfe, Not to go too far in any thing.

Si.

In this ſorte was the manner of his lyfe, euen gently to beare, and take all in good worth, at all mens hands that he kept companie with: betaking himſelfe to doo as they did, and to follow their ſtudies and exerciſes: Not thwarting any man, nor at any time putting furth himſelfe before his companions, ſo as a man might full eaſily purchas prayſe, and not be enuied, and alſo furniſh himſelfe with fréends.

So.

He tooke him to a wiſe courſe of liuing, for now a dayes, Flatry gaynes Freends, and Truthe gets Foes.

Si.

In the meane time, a certaine woman of excellent beautie, and in the flowre of age, came from Andros, (now thrée yéeres ſince) to dwell héere, in our neighborhod, béeing thereto dryuen thorough very pouertie, and the ſmall reckning that was made of her among her owne kindred.

So.

Alas I feare mée, that this woman of Andros, might be cauſe of ſome euell.

Si.

At the firſt, ſhe liued chaſtlie, ſparingly, and hardly, earning her liuing by wooll and web. But afterwards reſorted, now one louer, and then an other, promiſing reward vnto her, and as all are naturally geuen full ſoone to leaue of labour and follow luſt, euen ſo this woman accepted the offers, and then ſhe began the gaine.

They which then loued her (as it fell out) carried my ſonne thether, in company with them. I ſtraight way imagined with my ſelfe: 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 goe thither: I oftimes aſked, ho Sir boy, tell mée if thou be a good fellow, who yeſterday had his pleaſure of Chryſis, (for ſo was the name of her of Andros.)

So.

I perceiue you.

Si.

They would ſay, either Phedria, or Clinia, or Niceratus: for theſe thrée than loued her all at once. But what did Pamphilus, hah? (What, ſayd they) Mary he ſupt and payed his ſhare. I was well apaid of this. In like ſorte, I made enquirie at an other time, and could not finde, that Pamphilus was any way toucht with diſhoneſty. Therefore I thought I had ſufficient tryall of him, and that he was a notable Pattern of Chaſtitie: for he that hath to doe with men of ſuch condicions, and yet is not moued in mynde that way, one wold thinke hee might ful well haue the rule and •… uyding of his owne life. Now ouer and beſides that this lyked my ſelfe well, lo all other men alſo, euen with one cenſent, gaue al the commendations that might be, and praiſed my happy ſtate, in that I 〈◊〉 a ſonne, endued with ſo good witte and gouernment. What néede I make many woordes? Chremes ſtird vp by this good report, came of him ſelfe vnto me, to the end to match his onely daughter in marryage to my ſonne, and that with a •… ry large dowry: I was well pleaſ'd withall: promyſd him my ſonne: and this very day was appointed for the marryage.

So.

Why than what letteth, that it is not made accordingly?

Si.

That ſhall thou heare: ſhortly after within few dayes that theis thinges were a dooing, this Chryſis our neighbour dyed.

So.

O happy chaunce, you haue now made mée glad, for ſtill I doubted the woorſt of that Chryſis.

Si.

Than ſpecially my ſon vſed thither, euer and anon in company with thoſe which loued Chryſis: he was as buſie as the beſt, in ſetting furth the buryal: beyng all this while very ſad: and now and than, would euen ſhead teares with them for company: well, this alſo lyked mée welinough: for thus thought I: hée that vppon ſmall acquaintance and familiarity, takes this womans death ſo greeuouſly at the hart? what if hee had loued her himſelfe? or how would he take on for me his father? ſo as I tooke all this to haue proceeded of a good nature, and gentle hart. To bée bréfe, I my ſelfe lykewiſe for his ſake go furth to the buriall, miſtruſting no ill in the world.

So.

O what followed?

Si.

Thou ſhalt knowe by and by. The Coars is brought furth: we paſſe along with it: Anon I chuance to caſt myne eye (among the women there) vpon an od young damoſell, of ſuch fauour.

So.

What, ſo good?

Si.

Yea Soſia, of ſuch modeſt and ſober countenance and ſo paſſing beautifull to looke too, as there could not poſſibly bée more in a woman: who than to my ſéeming, made greater ſorrow than any of the reſt: And for that ſhe excelled all the other women, bearing a face worthy an honeſt woman and well borne, I get me to the wayting maides and aſke what ſhée might bee: They tell mée that ſhée is ſiſter vnto Chryſ •… That went by and by, to the very hart of mee. Out alas, this is it I wiſt not of: hence grew thoſe tears of his: here is ſhée whom hée pittied ſo.

So.

O how greatly I feare whereto your tale tends.

Si.

Well, on goeth the coars ſtill: wée follow after: we are come to the place of buriall: it is put into the fire: They wéepe. In the meane ſpace, this ſiſter whom I told you of, ruſht headlong to the flame with no ſmall ieopardy: wherat my ſonne Pamphilus being ſore frighted, did than lo, bewray his loue which hée had cunningly cloked and kept ſecrete all this while: hee runnes vnto her, and takes her about the middle: My ſwéete hart Glycerie (quoth hee) what do you? why goe you about to caſt away your ſelfe? with that, ſhée caſte her ſelfe weeping, and leaning vpon him ſo familiarly, as a man might eaſily perceiue their old accuſtomed loue.

So.

What, ſay you ſo?

Si.

I returne thence angry and diſquieted in minde, & yet had I not cauſe ſufficiēt to chide him: for he mought haue ſayd: father what haue I done? What puniſhment haue I deſerued? or wherein haue I offended? The mayd which wilfully would haue throwen her ſelfe into the fire, I ſtaied and ſaued her lyfe: This were an honeſt excuſe.

So.

It is well conſidered of you: for if you would chide him which helped to ſaue ones life, what would you doo to him that wrought ones harme or miſchiefe?

Si.

The next day following, Chremes came to me exclaming what a ſhamefull Act it was, that Pamphilus (as he had found out for certenty) vſed this ſtrāge noughtie pack euen as his wife: I ſtraight way denyed that there was any ſuch matter, he earneſtly affirmes that it was ſo: well, in the end I parted from him, as one then vtterly refuſing to match his Daughter to my ſonne.

So.

Did you not then rebuke your Sonne for it?

Si.

No, nor this was not cauſe great inough to rebuke him.

So.

How ſo I pray you?

Si.

Hée inought haue aunſwered thus: Father you your ſelfe haue ſet a time when theſe things ſhall ceaſe: ywis it is not long hence that I muſt liue after an others pleaſure: ſuffer me than, now in the meane while to liue as I lyſt my ſelfe.

So.

What occaſion then is left to rebuke him?

Si.

Mary, if for cauſe of this loue hée ſhall refuſe to take a wife, Than lo, for that offence will I firſt correct him to begin with all. And now my indeuour is this, that by meanes of this fained marriage, I may haue vnfayned cauſe to rebuke him, if he doo not agrée to it: And with all that the naughtie knaue Dauus, if he haue any ſuttle deuice, may ſpende it now, while his craft can doo no harme: whom I verely beleeue wil labour with tooth and nayl, to the vttermoſt that in him lyeth, and ſo much the rather that he may worke mee a diſpleaſure, than for any care hee hath to followe my ſonnes fancy.

So.

Why ſo?

Si.

Aſke you why ſo? An ill minde, an ill meaning: whom if I ſhall perciue, But what néede I vſe many words, and if ſo be it, all doe fall out as I would, that ther be no let or delay in my ſonne Pamphilus: Than reſteth that I entreate Chremes for his Daughter, and that I hope to bring to paſſe well inough. Now is it thy parte to ſet on a good face in faining this ſame marriage: to make Dauus thorowly afrayed, and to be a watch ouer my ſonne, eſpying what he doth, and whereof Dauus and he do conſult together.

So.

You haue ſaid inough. I will ſée to it: wée may now goe in.

Si.

Goe thou firſt, I will come anon.

¶Act. 1. Scen. 2. The Argument.

The father hauing found out that his Sonne is in loue, pretendeth a marriage for him, he threatneth Dauus with puniſhment if he ſhall go about any deceyt to hinder the marriage.

Simo, the olde man. Dauus, the ſeruant.

THere is no doubt of this, but that my Sonne will refuſe to haue a wife: I noted ſuch feare er while in Dauus, as ſoone as he hard that there was a marriage towards: but lo where he comes forth himſelfe.

Dauus.

I meruailed if this matter ſhould paſſe away ſo, and ſtill I feared whereto my Maſters long gentlenes would grow at length: who after he heard that ſhée whom hee thought of, ſhould not bée geuen in marriage to his ſon, did, (notwithſtanding) neuer ſpeake woorde to an • of vs, nor yet was any thing mooued at it.

Si.

Simo ſpeaketh this out of the hearing of Dauus. But now hee will, and that, as I wéene to thy coſt.

Da.

His purpoſe was to haue vs brought vnder hande into fooles paradiſe, to the end that now hoping the beſt, and hauing caſt of all feare, wée ſhould ſuddeinly bee taken napping, in ſuch ſorte, as wée might not haue time to bethinke vs how to preuent the marryage. A ſuttle foxe I warrant him.

Si.

What prates this Gallowelapper?

Da.

Good Lord my maiſter is here, and I ſaw him not till now.

Si.

Dauus?

Da.

Now, what is the matter?

Come your way hether to mée.

Da.

What a Deuill will hée haue?

Si.

What is that thou talkeſt of?

Da.

Whereof ſhould I talke?

Si.

Aſkeſt thow whereof? Sirra, the report is that my ſonne is in loue.

Da.

Yea no doubt the world cares much for that.

Si.

Nay, but doſt thou minde what I ſpeake to thee or not?

Da.

Yes truly I mynde it well inough.

Si.

Wel, for mée now to go ſerch and fift out that matter, were but the part of a harde father: for what he did heretofore, pertaynes nothing at all to mee: ſo long as he tooke time conuenient for it, I ſuffered him to fulfill his deſire. Now it is high time for him to leade an other life, and chaunge his manners. And therefore I require, or if it be reaſon I deſyre thée Dauos, that now at length he do returne into the right way.

Da.

What meane you by this?

Si.

All men that bée in loue, can ill away to haue wiues appoynted them by others.

Da.

So they ſay.

Si.

Then if one take a knaue for his ſcholmaiſter in that behalfe, The loue ſicke mynde of the ſcholler is by him commonly applied to all naughtines.

Da.

Truely I vnderſtand you not.

Si.

No, doſt thou not?

Da.

No, I am plaine Dauus, and not Oedipus [the reader of Riddels.]

Si.

Wilt thou then that I ſpeake the reſt of my minde plainly.

Da.

Yea a Gods name.

Si.

If I ſhall perceiue that thou go about to worke any deceyte this day, to the ende to breake of this marriage, or that thou wilt therein ſhew how ſlie and crafty a companion thou art: I will kudgill thee well and thriftely, and then caſt thee into the grinding houſe to grinde till thou die: with this couenant and condicion, that if I take thée out thence, then I my ſelfe to grinde in thy place. What, haſt thou vnderſtoode me now? or doſt thou not yet vnderſtande this neither?

Da.

Yes full well, you went now very plainly to the matter, and nothing about the buſh.

Si.

I could rather beare any abuſe at thy hands, than bée deluded in this matter.

Da.

Yet good woordes I pray you ſir.

Si.

What, doſt thou laugh mee to ſcorne? I ſée I am not a whit deceiued in thée: But I tell thée this, that thou be not ouer raſh, and that thou maiſt not hereafter ſay but thou hadſt a faire warning.

¶Act. 1. Scen. 3. The Argument.

In this ſcene Dauus deliberateth whether it be beſt for him to ayde Pamphilus, or to obey the olde man.

Dauus alone.

IN good earneſt Dauus it is no time now to be flow and fluggiſh, ſo far as I perceiued of late by the old mans ſpeech touching the marriage: which if it bee not cunningly prouided for and preuented, will caſt either me or my maiſter cleane vnder foote: And yet I wot not in the world what to doo: whether I ſhall helpe Pamphilus, or els liſten after the old man. Yf I leaue him helples, I feare me yt will coſt him his life: Contrariwiſe, if I ayd and further him, than ſtand I in feare of the old mans threatning, whom yt is a hard matter to beguyle: for firſt and formoſt, he knoweth certeynlie of this ſame loue, and beyng at deadly fewd with me, he watcheth leaſt I go about ſome guile to hinder the marriage: yf hée ſhall ſée any ſuch matter by mée, I am vtterly vndon: or if the Toy take him in the head, hée will finde ſome cauſe or other, and ſo bée it right or wrong, he will tumble me headlong into the grinding hous: Now ouer and beſides theſe miſcheeues, this comes alſo in the very • icke: This ſame woman an of Andros whether ſhe be wife to Pamphilus, or but his loue, I knowe not, but great with childe ſhe is by him: And it is a world to heare their preſumption: They fare as they were lunaticke, and not loue ſicke, for be it boy or gyrle that ſhe ſhal be deliuered of, they are determined to bring it It was not Lawful in Athens to bring vp the children begotten out of wedlocke vpon ſtrange womē, but rather to doo them away.vp. And now they faine betwixt themſelues an od péece of craft, that this Glycerie is a free borne woman of Athens: Ther was a good while ſince (ſay they) a certaine old Marchant which ſuffred ſhipwracke at the Ile of Andros, who afterward died there: and that ſhée being then a ſmall ſuccourles childe caſt on the ſhore, ſhould (forſooth) bée foſtred by Chryſis father: A trim fable. In good faith me thinks it ſoundes nothing like troth, and yet this fayned deuiſe pleaſeth them well. But lo where Myſis comes furth from her. Now wil I go get me hence to the market place to méete with Pamphilus, leaſt his father come vpon him vnawares with this mariage matter.

¶Act. 1. Scen. 4. The Argument.

MYSIS declareth the cauſe of her comming furth from Glycerie: And here Terence g • ues a leſſon, That ſuch eſpecially as haue charge of waighty buſines, ought to eſchew immoderate drinking of wine, concluding that a drunkard can do nothing rightly.

Myſys, the mayde.

ARchillis, I heard you a prety while ſince, bid that Lesbia ſhould be brought hither: In very truth ſhe is a drunken harebraynd woman, and far vnfit to take charge of a woman in trauaile of her firſt child: yet neuertheleſſe I will bring her: See how erneſt the olde Trot is, to haue her here, and all becauſe ſhe is a drinking Goſſip of hers. God graunt my Miſtres ſafe and ſpéedy deliuerance, and that any other miſcarry vnder the handes of the Tipſie Midwiefe, rather than ſhée: But what is the matter that I ſée Pamphilus ſo much out of quiet, I feare me all is not well: I will ſtay, and know whither this his trooble of minde, bring not ſome heauy newes.

¶Act. 1. Scen. 5. The Argument.

This ſcene conteynes the griefe of Pamphilus as touching the marriages where likewiſe he promiſeth to keepe faithful touch with Glycerie, yea, whether his father will or no, if cauſe ſo require.

Pamphilus, the young man. Myſis the, Mayde.

IS this a point of good nature, or a kindely déede? Is this the part of a Father?

My.

Myſis ſpeakes this to her ſelf, out of the hearing of Pamphilus. What might that be?

Pamph.

O the faith of God and man, what can be greater ſpite than this? he had purpoſed with himſelfe to marry me to a wife to day: ought not I haue knowen ſo much before hand? had it not bin méete to haue made me priuie to it long ere this?

My.

This alſo is ſpoken by Myſis, out of the hearing of Pamphilus. Wo is me (ſilly wench that I am,) what newes doo I heare?

Pamph.

What meanes Chremes, who hauing once denyed to giue me his daughter to wife, doth he now change his minde in that, becauſe he ſéeth me ſtill one manner of man? Dooth he deale ſo ouerthwartly, to thend to part me from Glycerie, forlorne man that I am? which, if it come to paſſe, I am cleane caſt away. Alas, alas, is there any man lyuing ſo reſt of all grace and good fortune as my ſelfe? O Lord God, ſhall I by no meanes be able to auoyd the Aliance of Chremes? How many waies am I deſpiſed and ſet at naught? All things were done and paſt, and ſo, I that was refuſed am ſought for againe, and wherefore, without it be as I ſuſpect, they cloake ſome ſecret fault in her, and becauſe ſhe cannot be ſhifted to any other, they would thruſt her on me.

My.

This likewiſe ſhe ſpeakes to her ſelfe. Theſe wordes do aſtony me for feare, (ſillie wench that I am)

Pamph.

But what ſhould I now ſay of my father? is it fit he go ſo careleſlie to woork about ſo great a matter? who paſſing by me crewhile at the market place, ſpake to me in this ſorte: Pamphilus; thou muſt be married to day: Get the home and make thée ready. It ſéemed to me he ſaid, Get thee away quicklie and hang thy ſelfe. I was vtterlie amazed: Think ye that I could bring furth one woord, or make any excuſe for my ſelfe, were it wrong, fals, or neuer ſo fooliſh? I became quite dumbe. But had I wiſt ſo much before, if one ſhould now aſke me, what would I then haue don, ſurely ſomwhat I would haue don, rather than doo as I dyd. But now whereto ſhall I firſt betake me? I am cumbred with ſo many cares, which diuerſlie hale my minde to & fro, what with loue & pitie toward this woman, The griefe I conceiue of this marriage, and the ſhame I incurre with my father, who hitherto ſo gently ſuffred me to do what I would, (and ſhall I now gaineſay him?) That wo is me, I wot not what to do.

My.

This ſpeech of Myſis is ouerheard by Pamphilus. I feare me wretch whereto this doubtfull pang will breake in the end, ſo as now it is very needfull that either he come and ſpeake with my Miſtres himſelfe, or els that I ſay ſomewhat to him as touching her. For while his minde hangs thus in doubt, it is carryed héere, and there, with the leaſt thing in the world.

Pamph.

Who talkes héere? O Myſis, welcome.

My.

God ſaue you maiſter Pamphilus.

Pamph.

How dooth thy miſtres?

My.

Doo you not know? ſhe is in labour with childe: And for this the ſilly woman takes care and thought, bycauſe heretofore your mariage was appointed to bée made as this day: Moreouer ſhe is in great feare leaſt you will forſake her.

Pamph.

O Lord, ſhould I finde in my hart to do ſo? Alas poore ſowle, ſhould I ſuffer her to bée deceiued thorough me, which committed her whole truſt vnto me, and euen put her life in my hands? Shall I deale ſo by her (whom I haue intirely loued as my wife) that through néed and neceſſity her chaſt behauiour and wel ordered life ſhould be corrupted and changed? No, I wil neuer doo it.

My.

I would not feare at all, if it lay onely in you, but I feare how you will be able to hide the brunt of your father.

Pamph.

What, doſt thou thinke me ſo faint harted, or moreouer, ſo vnkinde, or vncurteous, or ſo cruell, as that neither our daily familiarity, nor loue, nor yet very ſhame, can mooue me nor put mée in minde to kéepe promiſe with her?

My.

This one thing I wot well: ſhée hath deſerued that you ſhould be mindefull of her.

Pamph.

That I ſhould be mindfull of her? O Myſis Myſis, thoſe woordes of Chryſis remaine yet printed in my minde, which ſhe ſpake vnto mée, as touching Glycerie: Being néere the point of Death, ſhee calles mée to her: I came, and after you were gone aſide and no body left but wée twoo: thus ſhée began: Frend Pamphilus, you ſée of what beauty and yéeres this ſame mayden is: neither are you to bée tolde, what inconuenience theſe twoo thinges are vnto her, both for ſauing her honeſty and her ſtocke: And therefore I pray you by this right hand of yours, and your honeſty: I beſéech you alſo on your faith and troth, and in reſpect of the ſolitary ſtate of this maiden, that you will neither part her from you, nor forſake her: euen as I haue loued you as myne owne brother, and as ſhée alwaies eſtéemed you alone aboue all men liuing, and was in all things ready at your commaundement. I bequeath you to her, as huſband, frend, tutor, and father. Theſe our goods I commit vnto you, and charge you with them of truſt. Herevpon ſhée deliuered Glycerie vnto mee in way of marriage, and by and by gaue vp the Ghoſt: I receiued Glycerie of her, and hauing once receiued her, I will kepe her ſtill.

My.

Truly I hope no leſſe.

Pamph.

But why art thou come from her?

My.

I go for the midwife.

Pamph.

Hye thée apace: and hearſt thou mée? beware thou ſpeake not one woorde of the marriage, leaſt that alſo increaſe her griefe.

My.

O, I vnderſtand you.

¶Act 2. Scen. 1. The Argument.

CARINVS vnderſtanding that Philumena ſhall be maried to Pamphilus: entreateth Pamphilus that he doo not marry her. Here Carinus and Byrria are purpoſely brought in, leaſt that Philumena ſhould not bee eſteemed of at all.

Carinus, a yong man. Byrria, the ſeruant. Pamphilus.

BYrria, what ſayeſt thou? ſhall ſhée bée married this day to Pamphilus?

Byr.

Yea, euen ſo.

Ca.

How knoweſt thou?

Byr.

I heard it of Dauus but a little while ſince, at the market place.

Car.

Wo is mée vnhappy man, for as my minde was held betwéene hope and feare euer till now: ſo now that all hope is paſt, euen worne and wearied with care, it is vtterly diſmayed.

Byr.

I pray you Sir for Gods ſake, ſith you cannot haue what you would, that you will haue what you may.

Car.

There is nothing that I will haue but Philumena.

Byr.

Alas how much better were it for you, to ſéeke to weare this loue out of your mynde, than to vtter furth ſuch ſpéeches, whereby your deſire is kindled more and more in vayne.

Car.

Wée can all lightly when wee are in health, geue good counſayle to ſuch as are ſicke: But if thou wert in my caſe, thou wouldſt ſing mée a new ſong.

Byr.

Wel, go too then, doo as you liſt.

Car.

But to where I ſée Pamphilus, I am determined to prooue all manner of wayes before I dye.

Byr.

What will he now doo?

Car.

This ſame man will I intreate, him wil I earneſtly beſéech, to him will I diſcouer my loue: I beléeue I ſhall get him to put of the marriage, at leaſt, for a few dayes longer: and in the meane ſpace I hope ſomewhat may be done.

Byr.

That ſomewhat, will prooue iuſt nothing.

Car.

But how thinkeſt thou Byrria, were I beſt go to him or not?

Byr.

Yes, what els? though you obteyne nothing at his handes, that yet hée may thinke you ready to make him cuckold, if hée do marry her.

Car.

Go get thée hence knaue, with a miſchiefe to thée for thy peeuiſh ſuſpicion.

Pamph.

I ſee Carinus: God ſpéede ſir.

Car,

O Pamphilus, God ſaue you: I come to you requeſting at your handes, hope, health, helpe, and counſaile.

Pamph.

In good faith I am neither a méete man to geue counſaile, nor yet haue wherewith to helpe an other: but what is your matter?

Car.

Do you marry to day?

Pamph.

So the talke goeth.

Car.

Pamphilus if you do ſo, then ſhall you neuer ſée mée aliue after this day.

Pamph.

Why, how ſo?

Car.

Alas I feare to vtter it: I pray thée Byrria doe thou tell it him.

Byr.

I will.

Pamph.

What is it?

Byr.

He is in loue with your Bride.

Pamph.

Now in good fayth hée is not of my minde: but come néere and tel mee Carinus, hath there bene any further matter betwéene you and her?

Car.

O, Alas Pamphilus, no.

Pamph.

Mary ſir I would there had.

Car.

Now I hartely beſéech you, euen for the loue and frendſhip betwixt you and mée: firſt and formoſt, that you do not marry her at all.

Pamph.

Truely I will do my beſt indeuor.

Car.

But if you may not otherwiſe chooſe, or that this marriage be according to your owne hart:

Pamph.

According to my hart?

Car

Yet at leaſt wiſe, prolong it for a day or twoo, while I get mée away ſomewhither, that I may not behold it.

Pamph.

Nay but liſten to mée now Carinus, I hold it in no wiſe the part of an honeſt man, to pike a thanke where none is due vnto him: God wot I am more deſirous to be rid of this mariage, than you are to obtayne it.

Car.

You haue reuiued my ſpirites.

Pamph.

Now if either your ſelfe, or Byrria here, can do ought in the matter, be doing, faine, finde out and procure the meanes that you may haue her: I for my part will ſo handle the matter, as ſhée may not bée married to mée.

Car.

I haue my deſire.

Pamph.

Oh, in very good tyme do I ſée Dauus, whoſe aduiſe I vſe altogether.

Car.

He ſpeaketh to his ſeruant Byrria. But in good ſooth thou wilt tell mée nothing, except ſuch things as are not woorth the knowing: doſt thou not get thée hence.

Byr.

Yes truely, and that with a very good wil.

¶Act. 2. Scen. 2. The Argument.

DAVVS hauing gathered by ſundry ſignes and coniectures the vnlikelihood of the mariage, ſeeketh all the towne ouer for Pamphilus, & reioiceth out of meaſure.

Dauus. Charinus. Pamphilus.

O Good God, what good newes doo I bring with me, But where ſhall I now finde Pamphilus, that I may releaſe him from that feare he is in, and fill his hart with ioy.

Car.

This talke of Carinus and Pamphilus muſt bee ſuppoſed to be betwixt themſelues, Dauus neither hearing nor ſeeing thē, and therefore he goeth on ſtil with his ſpeche He is very méery, what the matter is I know not.

Pamph.

It is nothing to any purpos, he hath not yet vnderſtood of this miſchiefe.

Da:

Whome I verily beléeue, if he haue yet hard of the marriage prepared for him.

Car.

He ſpeaketh ſtill to Pamphilus. Doo you not heare what he ſaith?

Da:

That he is beſide himſelfe, ſéeking for me all the Towne ouer. But where ſhall I ſeke for him, or whither ſhall I now firſt go?

Car.

And this alſo he ſpeaketh to Pamphilus. What, doo you linger to ſpeake to him?

Da:

Well, I go my waies.

Pamph.

Dauus, come hither, ſtay.

Da.

Who calles me? O my Maſter Pamphilus, you are the man I looke for. Well met Carinus: I finde you both in good time, euen you two I would ſpeaks with all.

Pamph.

Dauus, I am a forlorn man.

Da:

But yet liſten to me a little.

Pamph.

I am caſt away.

Da:

I wot what you feare.

Car.

Truely and my liefe is in hazard in very déede.

Da:

I wot alſo what you feare.

Pamph.

I muſt be married.

Da:

And that I know too.

Pamph.

Yea but too day.

Da.

You dull me with too many wordes, and yet I know the matter already. You feare leaſt you muſt marry Philumena: And you (Carinus) take care how you may marry her.

Car.

Thou haſt hit the nayle on the head.

Pamph.

That ſame is it.

Da.

And in that, is there no daunger at all: I warrant you.

Pamph.

I pray thée for Gods ſake, ryd me preſently out of this feare, poore wretch that I am.

Da:

Lo, I put you out of feare, Chremes will not at this time giue you his daughter to wife.

Pamph.

How knoweſt thou ſomuch?

Da:

I know it full well: your father met me erewhile and told me that he would marry you this day to a wiefe, beſides many things elſe, which now is no time to rehers. By and by I haſted me and ran euery foote to the market place, to tel you of this: and when I could not finde you there, I got me vp, on a high ſtanding, and looked round about me, you were no where to be ſéene. By chaunce I ſpied Byrria this mans ſeruant, I aſke him for you, he ſayd he ſawe you not. This troubled me: Then I bethink me what to doo: and as I was returning thence, I fell to miſtruſt whether there were any marriage towards or no, I remembred there was verie ſmall prouiſion of meate: he himſelfe was very ſad: The marriage was to be made on the ſoddeyn, This did not hang well together.

Pamph.

What of all this?

Da:

I preſently got me to Chremes houſe, and being come thither, there was no body ſturring about the doore, I was glad of that.

Car.

You ſay well.

Pamph.

Tell on.

Da:

I ſtay there a while, and could ſée no body either going in, or comming out, I went my waies in, and looked narrowly, there was neuer an elderly woman, no tryming vp of the houſe, no ſtur or preparacion.

Pamph.

I graunt you, it is great likelihood.

Da:

Nay but doo theſe thinges ſéeme to agrée with a marriage matter?

Pamph.

No Dauus, as I gheſſe.

Da:

Gheſſe ſay you? you take your marke amis: The matter is out of al doubt: Moreouer, as I was comming thence, I met with Chremes boy, carrying potherbs and a halpwoorth of ſmall fiſh for the old mans ſupper.

Car.

Dauus, I am ryd out of danger this day by thy meanes.

Da:

Truely but you are neuer the néerer.

Car:

How can that be? for ſurely Chremes will not giue his daughter in marriage to him.

Da:

O wiſe woodcok, as though it muſt néedes folow, if he giue not his Daughter to him, that therefore you ſhall marry her: vnles you ſée better vnto it, and vnleſſe you make ſute to the olde mans fréends, you do but throw your cap in the winde.

Car.

You aduiſe me well, I will go thither, although in good faith, this hope hath deceyued me alredy more than once or twiſe. Farewell.

¶Act. 2. Scen. 3. The Argument.

DAVVS earneſtly prayeth and perſwadeth Phamphilus, to ſay vnto his father that he will marry.

Phamphilus. Dauus.

WHat meanes my father then? why doth he diſſemble with vs?

Da:

Mary I ſhal tel you, if ſo be it he be now in a chafe bycauſe Chremes will not marry his daughter vnto you: Then lo, may he thinke with himſelfe that he doth you wrong: But yet he will thinke it no wrong at all, before ſuch time as he ſhall perceyue how your minde is ſetled towards marriage. But if you ſhall refuſe to marry, then will he lay all the fault vpon you, and then will be old ſturre and hurleburly.

Pamph.

What wouldſt thou haue me to doo? that I ſhould yéeld to marry?

Da:

O maſter conſider, he is your father, it is hard to withſtand him: Moreouer this Glycerie is a loue woman, he will quickly picke a quarell againſt her, and ſo turn her packing out of town:

Pamph.

May he turn her away?

Da.

Yes, out of hand.

Pamph.

Then I pray thée Dauus what ſhall I doo?

Da.

Say to your father that you will marry.

Pamph.

Alas.

Da.

Why, what is the matter?

Pamph.

Should I ſay ſo?

Da.

Why not?

Pamph.

I will neuer doe it.

Da:

Neuer deny it.

Pamph.

Neuer doo thou perſwade me to it.

Da:

Do but conſider what will follow of this.

Pamph.

This will follow, that I ſhall be ſhut from Glycerie, and tyed vp to this woman.

Da:

Not ſo: Mary I wene your father will ſay thus much to you: I will haue you to marry a wyfe to day. You ſhall ſay, I will: And then I pray you what cauſe ſhall he haue to chide you? By this meanes you ſhall make all his deuiſes which now are of force, to be then altogether friuolous: and that without any danger to your ſelfe: for this is without all queſtion, that Chremes will not marry his daughter vnto you: And for more ſurety, you ſhall not ceaſe to vſe Glyceries company ſtill as you haue done, leaſt haply he ſhould alter his minde. Tell your father that you are willing to marry, ſo as when he would be angrie with you, he may haue no cauſe: for as for that vaine hope of yours (imagining thus with your ſelfe: Tuſh, it is no dāger for me to withſtand my father, No man will marry his daughter vnto a man of my manners) I ſhall eaſilie put you out of that hope: he will finde out a poore and meane marriage for you, rather than he will ſuffer you to be ſpilt by harlots. But if he ſhall perceiue that you are well content with this marriage, you ſhall make him reckles of the matter, he will ſeeke an other wife for you at leyſure, and in the meane ſpace ſome good fortune will fall.

Pamph.

Doſt thou think ſo?

Da:

Nay ſurely there is no doubt of that.

Pamph.

Yea, but take héede whereto thou perſwadeſt me.

Da:

What, are you not yet reſolued?

Pamph.

Well, I will ſay ſo to my father: but we muſt take héede, that he vnderſtand not of the childe I haue by Glycerie, for I haue promiſed to bring it vp.

Da.

O notable hold déede.

Pamph.

Shée earneſtly beſought mée to geue her my fayth and troth on this, that ſo ſhée might bée ſure I would not forſake her.

Da.

Well, it ſhall bée cared for. But your father is here hard by, beware that hée do not finde you ſad.

¶Act 2. Scen 4. The Argument.

In this ſcene bee deuiſes practiſed of both ſides: Dauus putteth Pamphilus in mynde that hee doe not feare or faint, but that he be prouided what to ſay to his father.

Simo. Dauus. Pamphilus.

I Come againe to ſée what they are a dooing or conſulting.

Da.

This he ſaith ſoftly to Pamphilus: Simo neither hearing nor ſeeing them. Hée makes ſure account that you will refuſe to marry: he hath ſtudied by himſelfe, and is now come out of ſome ſolitary corner, hoping he hath deuiſed talke wherewith hée may bring you beſide your ſelfe: Therefore ſée that your wits bée your owne.

Pamph.

I will doo as well as I may.

Da.

Maiſter, credite mée in this: I ſay vnto you that your father will not geue you one euill woord to day, if you doo but ſay that you will marry.

¶Act. 2. Scen. 5. The Argument.

BYRRIA watcheth Pamphilus: Pamphilus anſweareth his father that hee is ready in all things at his commaundement. Byrria makes report thereof to Carmus.

Byrria. Simo. Dauus. Pamphilus.

MY maiſter gaue mée commaundement, that ſetting all buſines aſide, I ſhould watch Pamphilus this day, to thend I might learne what hée did as touching the marriage: and that is the matter I am now come after him hither: but lo where he is with Dauus, here hard at hand. I will do that, that I come for.

Si.

Simo ſaith this to himſelf, hauing Dauus and Pamphilus in ſight. I ſée them both preſent before my face.

Da.

Dauus ſpeaketh this to Paphilus, becauſe Simo draweth nigh. Hem, looke to your ſelfe.

Si.

Pamphilus.

Da.

All the ſpech of Dauus in this Scene, is onely vnto Pā philus, and out of the hearing of Simo. Turne ſuddenly toward him as though you were not aware of his comming.

Pamph.

Oh father.

Da.

Well handled of you.

Si.

I will haue thée to bée married to daye, as I told thée before.

Byr.

Byrria ſaith this to himſelfe out of their hearing. Now feare I of our ſide, how this man will anſweare.

Pamph.

Neither in this thing, nor in any thing els, ſhall you finde any let or delay, in me.

Byr.

All the ſpeech of Byrria in this Scene, is either to himſelfe, or to the Audiens: and not to any of the ſpeakers. Out alas.

Da.

He hath neuer a word more to ſay.

Byr.

What did he anſweare?

Si.

Thou doſt as becommeth thée, in that I obteine with thy good wil, ye thing which I require at thy hands.

Da:

did not I ſay true?

Byr.

As far as I héere, my maſter is like to leape beſide his wife.

Si.

Now go thy waies in, that there be no tarrying for thée when néede is.

Pamph.

I go.

Byr.

Is there no truſt to be put in any man, for any thing in the world? Euery man for himſelfe and God for vs all.That ſame is a true ſaying which is commonly vſed: Euery man wiſheth more good to himſelfe than to an other. I my ſelfe haue ſéene that ſame mayden, and I remember ſhe was of a good louely fauour: Therefore I blame not Pamphilus ſo much though he had leauer, lye colling of her himſelfe a nights, than that my Maiſter ſhould: well, I will go ſhew all to my Maiſter, that for theſe ill newes he may giue me ill language.

¶Act. 2. Scen. 6. The Argument.

IN this ſcene Dauus and Simo deceyue one an other: which is woorth the noting.

Dauus. Simo.

This he ſpeaketh to the audiens. NOw thinks the old man verilie, that I bring ſome flye ſhift to beguyle him, and that I ſtaied here therefore of purpos.

Si.

What ſaith Dauus?

Da:

Truly euen as much now as before.

Si.

What, is it nothing thou ſaieſt?

Da:

Nothing at all.

Si.

But I had hoped to heare ſomewhat.

Da.

Dauus ſpeaketh this to the Audience, out of the hearing of Simo. I perceiue the matter fell out otherwiſe than he thought for, and that troubles the man.

Si.

Canſt thou tell mée truth?

Da.

Why, nothing readier.

Si.

Is my ſonne any thing gréeued at this marriage, in reſpect of the loue and familiarity betwixt him and this ſtrange harlatry?

Da.

No certeinly, or if he be, his gréefe is but for two or three dayes (perceiue you mée?) and than it is don: for hée will take a right courſe with himſelfe, as touching that matter.

Si.

I commend him for it.

Da.

While he might, & while it ſtood with his youthfull yéeres, he gaue himſelfe to loue: nor then neither, but ſecretly: for he tooke héede that it ſhould not at any tyme bring him to ill name, euen as became a manly man to do. Now it is méete for him to haue a wife, hée hath ſetled his minde on marriage.

Si.

Mée thought that he was ſomewhat ſad.

Da.

Not a whit for this matter, but there is ſome cauſe why he is not wel pleaſed with you.

Si.

What is that?

Da.

A trifling matter.

Si.

What is it, I ſay?

Da.

Nothing in effect.

Si.

But yet tell me what it is?

Da.

He ſaith that there is too much niggardnes vſed in this matter.

Si.

What, by mée?

Da.

Yea by you. Hée ſcarcely (quoth hée) beſtowed forty pence in cates, and doth hée ſéeme to marry his ſonne to a wife: what man of calling (of my fréendes and equalles) ſhall I bid to my wedding feaſt, as the caſe now ſtands? And you likewiſe, here be it ſpoken, are too much ſparing indéede, which I do not commend in you.

Si.

Sirra hold you your peace.

Da.

I haue mooued his patience.

Si.

I will ſée thoſe things cared for well inough: but what is the meaning of this? what is it that this deceitfull knaue goeth aboute? ſurely if any thing happen otherwiſe than well, euen that ſame varlet is the chéefe woorker of it.

¶Act. 3. Scen. 1. The Argument.

SIMO, thorough his ouermuch wilines, is notably deceiued, thinking the birth of the childe to bee a fained matter: which indeede was nothing leſſe.

Myſis. Simo. Dauus. Lesbia, the Midwife. Glycerie, lying in childbed.

This talke betweene Myſis and the midwife is ouerheard by Simo, whom they ſee not. IN good ſooth Lesbia, it is very true as you ſay: one ſhall hardly finde a man that is faithfull and true of his woord to a woman.

Si.

This mayde belongs to her of Andros, how ſaieſt thou?

Da.

Shée doth ſo.

My.

And yet this yong man Pamphilus.

Si.

He ſpeaketh ſtill to Dauus, & Myſis goeth on with her ſpeche, not hearing him. What ſaieth ſhée?

My.

Was as good as his woord.

Si.

What?

Da.

Dauus ſpeakes to the audience out of Simoes hearing. I would to God that either the olde man were deafe, or that pratling wench dumbe.

My.

For were it man childe or woman childe that my miſtres were deliuered of, hée tooke order for the nurſing of it.

Si.

O the king of heauen, what is this I heare? Why, all is paſt helpe, at leaſt if it bee true that this mayde tells.

Lesb.

Lesbia & Myſis go on ſtill with their talk and theſe interſpeeches of Simo and Dauus, muſt be ſuppoſed to be vttered by thē ſelues, out of the womens ſight and hearing. He is a good natured yong man, by your ſaying.

My.

Yea of an excellent good nature: But doo you follow me in preſently, that ſhe néede not to ſtay for you.

Lesb.

I come after you.

Da.

Dauus ſpeakes this to the audience, out of Simoes hearing What remedy now may I find for this miſchéefe?

Si.

What meanes this? doth he dote ſo much on this ſtrange harlat indéede? Now I perceiue how this geare cottens: I ſcarſe found it out now at laſt, fooliſh man that I am.

Da.

He ſpeaks (as it were) to the audience. What doth he ſay that he hath found out?

Si.

That knaue ſéekes to abuſe me with this falſhood firſt and formoſt. They faine that this quean is brought a bed, to thend that ſo they may driue Chremes from geuing his daughter.

Glycer.

This is vttered within by Glycerie, being in trauaile with childe. Oh lady Iuno Lucina, helpe and ſaue mée I beſéech thée.

Si.

Whup hoyda: what in all the haſt? ſée a fooliſh deuiſe: as ſoone as ſhe heard me at the dore, ſhée ſtraight falles in labour: Dauus, this was not halfe cunningly contriued of thée, ech thing in his due time.

Da.

What, by mée?

Si.

Why make you it ſo ſtrange, haue you forgot your ſcholler?

Da.

I wot not what you ſay.

Si.

If this knaue had ſet his craft a broche againſt me vnawares, and in a marriage ment in good earneſt: what prancks would hée than haue played mée, trow you? But now, be it vpon his perill: as for me I am ſafe.

¶Act. 3. Scen. 2. The Argument.

LESBIA comming furth, ſheweth the ſtate of Glycery lying in childbed: and withall appointes a drinke to be geuen her, thereby imitating the Phiſitians, which are wont to preſcribe vnto the ſicke, what they ſhall eate and drinke. Laſtly, Simo and Dauus are at variance about the birth of the child.

Lesbia, Simo, Dauus.

HItherto Archillis I ſée all good ſignes of health in her, that are vſuall & ought to bée in a woman in her caſe: Now firſt and formoſt, cauſe you thoſe things to be waſhed, and then geue her that drink, and the ſame quantity that I apappointed for her. I will come backe againe hither by and by. Before god there is a iolly bouncing boy borne vnto Pamphilus: Now I pray God ſend him long to liue, bycauſe he hath ſo honeſt a man to his father, who had care & conſcience not to deale amis with this kinde harted young woman.

Si.

And who that knew thée, would not iudge this alſo to be a craft of thy budget.

Da.

And what is that, I pray you?

Si.

So as Simo thinks that Glycerie is not brought a bed, but that al this is fained to bleare his eyes with all. Shée did not will them while ſhe was in the houſe, to doo what was néedefull for the woman that lyes in, but after ſhee was come furth, ſhe kept a pratling out of the ſtréet, vnto them which were within doores. Why Dauus, am I ſo little ſet by of thée? Or I pray thée, doo I ſéeme ſo fit a man, for thée to ſéeke to beguile, with ſuch manifeſt fraud and falſhood? At leaſt wiſe thou doſt thy diligence, ſo as I may wel ſéeme to bée put in feare by thée: Surely if I had knowen it before.

Da.

Dauus ſaith this to the Audience. Now in good faith this man beguiles himſelfe, I doo not.

Si.

Why, did I not geue thée ſtraight charge to the contrary? did I not threaten thée with puniſhment, that thou ſhouldſt not doo it? did it feare thée a whit? what hath it booted? Shall I now geue thée credite in this: that ſhée there, is brought a bed of childe by Pamphilus?

Da.

This he ſpeaks to himſelfe. O, ho, I ſée now wherein he is deceiued: I wot well what I wil doo.

Doſt thou not anſweare mée?

Da.

What ſhould you geue mée credite? as though it was not told you before, that theſe things would come ſo to paſſe.

Si.

Did any body tell mée ſo?

Da.

Why than, did you of your ſelfe, finde that this is a fained matter?

Si.

Hée laughes mée to ſcorn.

Da.

No doubt it was told you before, for how els ſhould it come vpon you to ſuſpect it?

Si.

How? marry bycauſe I knew thée.

Da.

As who ſhould ſay, it was done by my deuiſe.

Si.

Yea I am well aſſured of that.

Da.

Well ſir, you doo not yet throughly know what manner of man I am.

Si.

Doo not I know thée knaue?

Da.

But when I begin to tell you any thing, you ſtraight way thinke that I go about to beguyle you.

Si.

That is a lye.

Da.

So as in good faith, now a daies, I dare not ſcarce open my lips to you.

Si.

This one thing I am ſure of, that here is no woman deliuered of childe.

Da.

Haue you vnderſtoode ſo? But neuertheleſſe ere it be long, the childe ſhall be brought here and laid before the doore: Maiſter, I tel you of it now before hand, that you may certainly know what will follow: leaſt hereafter you ſhould ſay, that this was don by the counſaile or craft of Dauus: And I would in any wiſe, that this euil opinion which you haue of mée, were cleane out of your minde.

Si.

How cameſt thou to know this?

Da.

I heard it, and I beléeue it be true.

Si.

There be many things mo than one, which cauſe me to coniecture as I doo: Euen now, is the firſt tyme that this queane declared her ſelfe to be with childe by Pamphilus, which is but a falſe deuiſe. Moreouer, now that ſhe ſées preparation at home for the wedding, the maid forſooth, in all haſt is ſent for the midwife to come to her, and withall to bring alſo a childe with her.

Da.

Well, without that it come ſo to paſſe that you do ſée the childe with your owne eies, nothing will hinder the courſe of this marriage.

Si.

What ſayeſt thou? when thou once vnderſtoodeſt that they purpoſed ſuch a matter, why didſt thou not than preſently tell it vnto Pamphilus?

Da.

Why than, who els hath withdrawen him from theſe harlots but my ſelfe? for certeynly we all know how excéedingly he loued this woman. Now he is deſirous to haue a wife, and as for that matter, let mée alone withall: yet neuertheleſſe go you on forward ſtill with this marriage as you doo: and I hope God will proſper it.

Si.

Very well, go thy waies in, ſtay there till I come: and prouide what is néedfull. Dauus being gon in, Simo turne his tale to the audiens. He could not driue it into my head, to make me beléeue all this, neither am I certaine whether all that hée told me be true or no: But I paſſe not greatly for that. Marry the matter I ſtand moſt vpon, is the promiſe which my ſonne himſelfe made vnto me: Now will I go méete with Chremes: I will intreate him for his daughter to my ſonne in marryage, and if I doo obteine her, why ſhould I make any more daying for the matter, but marry them out of the way? for as touching my ſonnes promiſe, I haue no doubt at all, if hée ſhall refuſe to performe it, but I may full rightly compel him to it. But lo yonder where Chremes himſelfe comes towards mée, euen in as good time as may be.

¶Act. 3. Scen. 3. The Argument.

In this ſcene, by meanes of Chremes and Simo meeting together, the fained marriage is become a marriage in good earneſt.

Simo, and Chremes, the old men.

GOD ſaue you neighbour Chremes.

Chr.

O ſir, you are the onely man I ſought.

Si.

And I you.

Ch.

You com as wel as I could wiſh: There haue ſome bin with me, which told me they heard you ſay that my daughter ſhould this day be marryed to your ſonne: Now the matter I come for, is to ſée, whether you, or they, do dote.

Si.

Heare me a word, or twoo, and you ſhall ſoone know both what I deſire of you, and alſo what you require of me.

Ch.

I heare you, go too, ſpeake your minde.

Si.

Chremes I beſéech you for Gods ſake, and for our frendſhips ſake begun betwixt vs from our childehood, and growen together with our years: I beſeech you as you loue your onely daughter, & as you tender my ſon, whome it lieth in you chéefely to ſaue or to ſpill, yt you will help me now in this matter, and like as the marriage ſhould haue bin, that ſo now, it may be made vp betwixt them.

Chre.

Tuſh, neuer pray mée ſo much, as though you could not obteine this at my hands but by much praying: Doo you think mée now an other manner of man, than I was then, when I promiſed my daughter vnto you? If it be a matter profitable for both parts, that this marriage be made, then cauſe hir furthwith to be ſent for. But if there grow of this, more harme than good, as well to the one as to the other: Then my deſire is, that you will conſider of the matter indifferently for both parts, euen no otherwiſe than if ſhe were your daughter, and that I were father vnto Pamphilus.

Si.

Yea Chremes, euen ſo is my meaning, and therfore doo I requeſt that it may be effected. Neither would I requeſt it at your hands, if the matter if ſelfe dyd not geue me good occaſion.

Chr.

What may that be?

Si.

Mary ſir, my ſonne and Glycerie are fallen out.

Chr.

I heare you.

Si.

Nay, but ſo far fallen out, as I hope they may be quite ſet a ſunder.

Chr.

Tuſh, it is but a Tale.

Si.

Nay, without dowt it is as I ſay.

Chr.

Yea forſooth, thus, as I ſhall tell you, The falling out of Louers, is a Renewing of Loue.

Si.

Alas, I pray you then, let vs now preuent that, while time is, and while his hot loue is alaid with bitter words: Let vs couple him to a wife, before that this naughtie parks ſhrewd crafts, and fained teares, doo woork againe his loueſick minde, vnto pitie and compaſſion: I hope (Chremes) that being once reclaimed, by meanes of good company and honeſt wedlock, he will afterward, wt cas, winde himſelf out of theſe miſchéefs.

Chr.

It ſéemes ſo to you, but I think it neither poſſible for him to continue with this wife, nor yet for me to be able to endure it.

Si.

How can you know that, vntill you haue made tryall of it?

Chr.

Yea mary, but it is a ſhrewd matter to make that Tryall vpon my daughter.

Si.

Well yet, the very worſt and vttermoſt of all, can be but a diuorſe or ſeperation, if any ſuch matter ſhould happen, as God forbyd it ſhould: But contrariwiſe, if by this meanes he doo amend and become a new man, ſée than how many commodities enſue: Firſt and formoſt, you ſhall reſtore to your fréend his ſonne: next, you ſhall finde a ſure ſonne in law to your ſelfe, and laſtly, a ſtayed huſband to your daughter.

Chr.

What? ſay you ſo? If you be perſwaded that this is expedient, I for my part, will not haue you hindred of any good turne that I may affoord you.

Si.

Chremes, not without good cauſe haue I alwaies ſet moſt ſtore by you of any man.

Chr.

But what ſayd you erewhile?

Si.

What?

Chr.

How came you to know, that they be at iarre betwéene themſelues?

Si.

Euen Dauus himſelfe, the chéefe of their priuie Councell, dyd tell it me. And he likewiſe perſwades me to haſten this marriage, as much as I may: Think you he would haue done this, vnleſſe he were ſure that my ſonne deſires the ſame? You ſhall heare him your ſelfe, by and by. Holo ſirs, call me out Dauus hither. But ſée yonder where he comes furth of him ſelfe.

¶Act. 3. Scen. 4. The Argument.

Dauus fawning vppon the olde man, dooth perſwade him to make vp the marriage, little thinking that it ſhould come to paſſe in deede: But whē he perceiueth that Simo deales in good earneſt with Chremes as touching his daughter: he is then much perplexed, and cleane beſide himſelfe.

Dauus. Simo. Chremes.

I was comming to you.

Si.

well, what is the matter?

Da.

Why is not the bryde ſent for? it waxeth now very late.

Si.

Simo ſaith this ſoftly to Chremes. Doo you not héere him. Well Dauus, I ſtood ſomewhat in feare of thée erewhile, leaſt thou (as the common ſort of ſeruants are wont) ſhouldſt by craft and knauery haue deceyued me, in reſpect that my ſonne is in loue.

Da.

Alas ſir, ſhould I haue don ſuch a déede?

Si.

I was of that beléefe, and therefore fearing ſuch a matter, I kept ſecret from my ſonne and thée, that which now I will tell thée.

Da.

What is it?

Si.

Thou ſhalt know, for now in a manner, I begin to haue ſome truſt in thée.

Da.

At laſt then, you know what manner of man I am.

Si.

This marriage, was not meant to haue bin made indéede.

Da.

What, was it not?

Si.

No, but I fayned it of purpoſe, that I might thoroughlie trye you.

Da.

What, is it true ſir?

Si.

It is euen ſo as I tell thée.

Da.

Sée, I could neuer perceyue ſo muche. O notable pollicie.

Si.

Nay but liſten to me, as ſoone as I bade thée go hence in, this man met me in excellent good time.

Da.

Dauus ſaith this ſoftly to himſelfe. Out alas, are we not cleane caſt a way?

Si.

I ſhew him all that thou toldſt me erewhile.

Da.

And this like wiſe to himſelfe. What is this I héere?

Si.

I entreat him for his daughter, and with much a doo I obtaine her.

Da.

I am vtterly vndon.

Si.

Hah, what ſayeſt thou?

Da.

I ſay it is excellently well don.

Si.

Now is there no let or delay on this mans behalfe.

Chr.

I will ſtraight goe hence to byd euery thing be made redy, and ſo bring woord hither againe.

Si.

Now Dauus I pray thée, ſith thou alone haſt brought this marriage for mée to paſſe:

(Da.

Yea truly, I, and none elſe.)

Si.

That thou wilt yet moreouer labour my ſonnes amendment.

Da.

In déede I will doo what I can.

Si.

Thou maiſt now well do it, eſpecially while he is netteled at the heart.

Da.

Well, ſet your minde at reſt.

Si.

Go to then, But where is he now?

Da.

It is maruaile if he be not at home.

Si.

Simo departeth and Dauus ſtayeth ſtill. I will go to him, and tell him my minde in the ſame ſort, as I told it thée.

Da.

I am a forlorne creature, what ſhall kéepe me but that I muſt go hence ſtreight into the grinding houſe to priſon? No prayer or intreaty wil ſerue, I haue now brought all out of frame: I haue deceyued my maſter: I haue forced a marriage on my Maſters ſonne: I was the cauſe yt the marriage ſhal be made to day, euen quite vnhoped for of ye old man, & cleane contrary to the minde of Pamphilus. Sée theſe goodly crafts of mine: had I not buſied my ſelfe, there had hapned no harme at all: Dauus eſpieth Pamphilus comming. But lo yonder I ſée him himſelfe, I am but a dead ma •… : I would to God héere were ſome place, where I •… ight throwe my ſelfe downe headlong.

¶Act. 3. Scen. 5. The Argument.

PAMPHILVS takes on very much, that by following the deceitfull deuiſe of Dauus, he made aunſwere to his father that he would marry.

Pamphilus, Dauus.

WHere is that ſame miſchéeuous varlet, which hath cleane vndon mée?

Da.

Now Lord haue mercy vpon mée.

Pamph.

And yet I confeſſe, this that hath hapned, is euen good enough for mée, when I would bée ſo ſottiſh, and ſo very a dolt, as to commit my whole eſtate and welfare vnto a prating villaine. Therefore I reape a iuſt reward for my folly. But he ſhal neuer ſcape ſcotfrée with it.

Da.

This he ſaith out of Pamphilus hearing. I am ſure to bée ſafe enough for euer hereafter, if I may but now auoide this miſchéefe.

Pamph.

But what may I now ſay to my father? ſhal I now refuſe marriage, and yet promiſed erewhile that I would marry? with what face dare I doo that? I wot not what to doo with my ſelfe.

Da.

Dauus ſpeaketh all this out of Pamphilus hearing. Truely nor I neither, what to doo with my ſelf: yet this is it I am fully reſolued vpon, I will tell him that I ſhall preſently finde out ſome remedy, and ſo put of my puniſhment yet a little while.

Pamph.

Oh.

Da.

Now hée ſées mée.

Pamph.

Come hither you honeſt man: how ſay you ſirra, ſée you not how I (poore ſoule) am beſtad by meanes of your deuiſes?

Da.

But I will remedy it by and by.

Pamph.

Wilt thou remedy it?

Da.

Yes certainly maiſter Pamphilus.

Pamph.

Yes, euen as thou didſt of late.

Da.

Nay rather better, I hope.

Pamph.

O, ſhould I credit thée vile hangman? canſt thou recouer a matter full of trouble, and paſt all hope of helpe? Out alas, what a ſure ſtay had I of thée, who this day, out of my greateſt quietnes, haſt forced mée into a marriage ſpite of my téeth? did I not tell thee it would come thus to paſſe?

Da.

You did ſo.

Pamph.

What then art thou woorthy of?

Da.

Hanging. But yet ſuffer mée a litle to come to my ſelfe, I will ſtraight way ſéeke out ſome helpe.

Pamph.

Alas that I haue not leyſure to puniſh thée as I would: it is now time for mée to ſée to my ſelfe, and not to be auenged of thée.

¶Act 4. Scen. 1. The Argument.

This ſcene doth cheefly containe the angry ſpeeches of Carinus againſt Pamphilus.

Carinus. Pamphilus. Dauus.

IS this a thing credible, or worthy to be ſpoken of, that there ſhold be ſomuch peruerſneſſe in any man, as to delight in euill, and to ſéeke his owne commoditie, euen by the diſcommodity of an other? Is this kinde of people to be truſted? Nay certainely, thoſe are the very worſt kinde of people, who are ſomewhat ſhamefaſt in denying a Requeſt, but afterward, when time requires performance of their promiſes, Then of neceſſitie, they bewray themſelues and faulter, and yet the matter it ſelfe driues them then to a flat denyall: Then is their ſpéech void of all ſhame and honeſty, as thus: who are you ſir? What friend of mine are you? why ſhould you deſire my ſwéete hart? O ſir, heare you me, I loue you well, but my ſelfe better. Neuertheleſſe, if you aſke where is truth and truſtines of promis, they are neuer a whit aſhamed. Now they are not a frayd to deny, when as they ought to performe: And yet are they then afrayd, when they ſhold not. But what ſhall I doo? Is it beſt that I goe to him, to taunt and take him vp for this iniurie? I ſhall giue him ſhrewd woords his fill: But one may ſay to me, thou ſhalt be neuer the néere: yes very much: without doubt I ſhall anger euerie vayne in his hart, and withall ſhall eaſe mine owne minde.

Pamph.

Carinus, I haue vnawares (without God help vs) euen cleane caſt away both you and my ſelfe.

Car.

Yea, vnawares: is it ſo indéede? Now at laſt you haue got an excuſe: Tuſh, thou haſt broken thy faith and promis.

Pamph.

Why, what excuſe now at laſt?

Car.

What, woldſt thou yet againe deceiue me now, with thoſe ſuttle ſpéeches of thine?

Pamph.

Why, what is the matter with you now?

Car.

Mary after I had told you that I was in loue with Philumena, forſooth it pleaſed you to like her well for your ſelfe: Wo is me wofull wretch, who eſtéemed the honeſty of thy minde by mine owne.

Pamph.

You miſtake the matter.

Car.

Why, and doſt thou not think this yet a ioy perfect enough for thée, vnles thou maiſt make a tame foole of me that am in loue, and feede me with vaine hope? well, take her to thée.

Pamph.

Shold I take her? Alack, ful little do you know, in how great troobles I am wrapt, vnhappie man that I am: and what care and anguiſh, this my Tormentor hath put me to, with his deuiſes.

Car.

Why, is that ſuch a marueill? he takes enſample by you.

Pamph.

Well, you would not ſay this, if you knew either me, or my loue.

Car.

I know you were at words with your father of late, and that is the matter he is now diſpleaſed with you, but yet he could not cōpel you to marry her to day.

Pamph.

Yea and by how much the more you are ignorant of my heauines: This ſame marriage was not meant or intended for me, neither did any man motion, now at this time, to procure a wife for me.

Car.

I wot well, you are compeld to it euen of your owne frée will.

Pamph.

Abide, you wot not yet how the caſe ſtands.

Car.

Yes certainely, I wot full well that you will marry her.

Pamph.

Why do you thus kil my hart? heare me what I ſhall ſay to you: he neuer ceaſſed, preaſſing, perſwading, and praying me ſo long, till at laſt he inforced me to ſay vnto my father, that I would marry her.

Car.

What man did this?

Pamph.

Dauus.

Car.

What, Dauus?

Pamph.

Yea, hée brought all out of ſquare.

Car.

Wherefore did hée ſo?

Pamph.

I wot not in the world, without that God were highly offended with mée, in that I followed his counſaile.

Car.

Dauus, Didſt thou doo this?

Da.

Yes.

Car.

Hah, what ſayeſt thou villayne? Now I pray God geue thee a miſchéeuous end as thou haſt deſerued. Why I pray thee tell me, if all the enemies hée hath in the world would haue wiſhed to force a marryage vpon him, what other counſaile could they haue geuen him than this?

Da.

Well, I am deceiued, but not diſcouraged.

Car.

Ironice. I know it well.

Da.

The matter came not well to paſſe this way, now wee will take an other courſe, vnleſſe you be of opinion, that bycauſe it had ill ſucceſſe at the firſt: that therfore this euill may not now be remedied at the laſt.

Pamph.

Yes mary may it, for I verily beleeue if thou doo bend thy whole indeuor vnto it, thou wilt make for me two marriages of one.

Da.

Maiſter Pamphilus, this I owe vnto you of duty, as being your ſeruaunt: euen day and night to labours to my vttermoſt with might and maine, and to hazard my life to doo you good withall: it is your part, if ought hath hapned otherwiſe than was looked for, to pardon mée. Be it that my doings proſper not: Why yet I doo my true intent: Or finde you ſome better remedy your ſelfe, and let not mée either make or meddle withall.

Pamph.

That is it I deſire: ſet mée againe in the ſame ſtate thou foundeſt me.

Da.

I will.

Pamph.

But it muſt be don by and by.

Da.

Alas, but yet ſtay a little, Glyceries doore creaks.

Pamph.

That is nothing to thée.

Da.

Yet I would know.

Pamph.

What, ſtill more ſtaying?

Da.

Well, I will preſently finde you out a deuiſe for this.

¶Act. 4. Scen. 2. The Argument.

HEERE Pamphilus makes promis vnto Myſis that he will neuer forſake Glycerie: yea though he ſhall procure all men to be his enimies for it.

Myſis. Pamph. Carinus. Dauus.

WHereſoeuer your friend Pamphilus be, I wil furthwith ſéeke him out, and bring him with me: In the meane time (dere hart) doo not you vexe your ſelfe with thought.

Pamph.

Myſis?

My.

Who is there? O maſter Pamphilus, you méete me in very good time.

Pamph.

What is the matter with thée?

My.

My miſtres bad me pray you for Gods ſake, if you loue her, that you will come to her, now out of hand. She ſaith that ſhe longs much to ſée you.

Pamph.

Out alas, I am a forlorne man? This miſchéefe beginnes now againe a freſh: Is it méete that both I and ſhe (ſilly ſoules) ſhould be thus vexed and diſquieted thorough thy meanes? for dowtles that is the cauſe ſhe now ſends for mée, hauing vnderſtood of the marriage I am towards.

Car.

Concerning which matter truly, full eaſily mought we haue bin at quiet, if this knaue had not buſted himſelfe.

Da.

Go too, if he be not mad enough of himſelfe, doo thou pricke him forward.

My.

Truly forſooth, and euen that is the cauſe that the woefull woman is in ſorrow for.

Pamph.

Myſis I ſweare to thée by all the Gods, that I will neuer forſake her, no not if I wiſt, I ſhould haue all men liuing myne enemies for it. I haue deſired this woman in my hart: Shée is fallen to my lot: wée are alike in manners and condition: farewel they, that would ſet vs two a ſunder. There ſhall none part her from me, but onely death.

Car.

I am now come to my ſelfe.

Pam.

No not the anſweare of God Apollo can be truer than this. Mary I would faine (if it may bée) that my father ſhall not thinke, that I withſtood the going forward of this marriage: But if it may not bée, then will I go the plaine way to woork, that he may thinke that I did withſtand it. What manner of man do I ſeeme?

Car.

Euen as forlorn a creature as my ſelfe.

Pamph.

I ſéeke for counſaile.

Car.

Thou art a valiant man.

Pamph.

Dauus I know whereabout thou goeſt.

Da.

Wel, certeinly I will bring this to paſſe for you.

Pamph.

It is more than time it were don.

Da.

I haue it but euen now to doo.

Car.

What is it?

Da.

That thou deceiue not thy ſelfe, I haue it for this mans behoofe, and not for thyne.

Car.

That is ſufficient for me.

Pam.

Tell mée I pray thée, what is that thou wilt doo?

Da.

I feare me, this day will ſkant ſerue me to doo my buſines: Thinke not than, that I am now at leiſure to diſcourſe: Therefore get yée both away hence, for yée doo but trouble mée.

Pamph.

I will go ſée Glycerie.

Da.

And what will you? whither away hence?

Car.

Wilt thou haue me ſay the truth?

Da.

Nay, now he begins to tell me ſome long tale.

Car.

But what ſhall become of mée?

Da.

Why thou ſhameles man, is it not well for thée, that I gayne thée one litle dayes reſpite, in that I doo prolong his marriage?

Car.

O Dauus, yet notwithſtanding.

Da.

What then?

Car.

That I may attaine to marry her.

Da.

Sée a foole.

Car.

Well, looke thou come hither to me, if ſo hée thou mayſt doo any good in the matter.

Da.

To what end ſhall I come? I can do nothing.

Car.

But yet if thou may doo ought.

Da.

Well, go too, I will come.

Car.

Yf thou maiſt doo any thing, thou ſhalt finde me at home.

Da.

Now he ſpeaketh to Myſis. Myſis doo thou ſtay here a little for mée, till I come furth againe.

My.

Wherefore?

Da.

For a thing that muſt néedes be don.

My.

Hye thee apace.

Da.

I tell thée, I will bée here againe by and by.

Act. 4 Scen. 3. The Argument.

DAVVS brings the childe before Simoes doore, to thend to driue Chremes backe from accompliſhing the marriage. And this ſcene conſiſts more in geſture, then in vtterance.

Myſis. Dauus.

WHat, can one be ſure of nothing in this world? O Lord God, I ſtill thought, that this Pamphilus was my miſtres chéefeſt ioy, as being her frend, her louer, her huſband, and one ready to ſerue her turne in all aſſayes. But now (alack forlorne woman,) what gréefe takes ſhe for his ſake? without doubt there is more harme in this, than there was good in the other. But lo, Dauus comes furth. Abide fellow, what is that, I pray thée? whither away carrieſt thou the childe?

Da.

Myſis, now muſt I néeds haue thée ſhew thy ready wit and cunning in this matter.

My.

Where about goeſt thou?

Da.

Take this ſame childe of me quickly, and lay it downe before our doore.

My.

What I pray thée, on the bare ground?

Da.

Take thée ſome herbes of this alter, and ſtraw vnder it.

My.

And why doeſt not thou doo it thy ſelfe?

Da.

Bycauſe if perhaps I ſhall be driuen to ſweare to my maiſter, that I layd it not there: That then I may ſweare with a ſafe conſcience.

My.

I perceiue you. But yet tell me, I pray thée, how is it come vpon thee to be ſo holy now of late?

Da.

Go too, beſtir thée, that thou mayeſt know further of my minde, what I will doo. O good Lord.

My.

Why, what now?

Da.

The Brides father is come, and hath preuented me. Now I leaue of my purpoſe which I firſt entended.

My.

I wot not what thou ſayeſt.

Da.

I will now make as though I came this other way on the right hand: Sée that thou bée ready to anſweare and vphold my talke, in euery point as ſhall bée néedfull.

My.

I perceiue not at all, what thou intendeſt to doo. But if there bée any thing that my helpe may ſtand you in ſteade, or that thou ſée further into the matter than I doo: I will ſtay here, leaſt you ſhould be hindered of any benefite by my default.

Act. 4. Scen. 4. The Argument.

CHREMES heareth that Glycerie hath a childe by Pamphilus, and withall that ſhee is a free borne woman of Athens: by which meanes, he is quite withdrawen from the marriage.

Chremes. Myſis. Dauus.

NOw that I haue made all things in a readines for my daughters marriage, I am come againe that I may cauſe her to be ſent for. But what haue we here? In good faith it is a childe: woman didſt thou lay this ſame childe here?

My.

She lookes after Dauus. Whether is this fellow gon?

Chr.

What, wilt thou not aunſwere me?

My.

Alack he is no where in ſight, wo is me (poore wench) the fellow is gon his waies, and left me here.

Da.

Now Dauus comes a long. Good Lord of heauen, what hurleburley is yonder at the market? how much people is there at ſtrife? without it be that corne be at a high price, I wot not in the world what to make of it.

My.

I pray you ſirra, why did you leaue me here all alone?

Da.

How now, what tale is this of a roſted horſe? Nay but heareſt thou me Myſis, whoſe childe is this? or who brought it hether?

My.

Art thou well in thy wits, that aſkeſt me this queſtion?

Da.

Whom then ſhould I aſke, ſéeing here is no body els?

Chr.

This he ſaith to himſelfe. Chremes muſt be ſuppoſed to ſtand a loof liſtening vnto all the talke betweene Dauus and Myſis, and yet not ſhewing himſelfe vnto them, but vppon occaſion of their talke he oftimes vttereth ſpeaches as to himſelfe. I marueil whence it ſhould be?

Da.

Wilt thou not tell me what I aſke?

My.

Ahlas.

Da.

Come thy way hither on my right hand.

My.

Thou raueſt, dydſt not thou thy ſelfe?—

Da.

Huſht, be not ſo hard for thy eares as to ſpeake one word more than I ſhall aſke thée.

My.

Thou rayleſt.

Da.

Whence is this childe? ſpeake out aloud.

My.

From among you.

Da.

Ha ha ha, it is a wonder no doubt, if a hoore play a ſhameles parte.

Chr.

He ſpeakes this to himſelfe This maid belongs to her of Andros for ought I can perceiue.

Da.

Doo we ſéeme ſuch fit copesmates for you to mock and dally withall?

Chr.

To himſelfe. I came in time.

Da.

Beſtur thée quickly, and take a way the childe hence from the doore. This, Dauus ſpeakes in a lower voice, that Chremes may not here him. Abide ſtill, ſée thou ſtur not a foote out of the place thou ſtandſt in.

My.

I pray God a very vengeance light on thée, that ſo doſt terrifie me, poore wretch that I am.

Da.

Doo I ſpeake to thée or not?

My.

What wouldſt thou?

Da.

And doſt thou yet aſke me what? I pray the whoſe childe haſt thou laid here? Tel me.

My.

Doſt not thou know?

Da.

This he ſpeaketh ſoftly vnto her. Let paſſe what I know, and tell me what I aſke.

My.

It is yours among you.

Da.

Which of vs oweth it?

My.

Pamphilus.

Da.

This hee repeats alowd bycauſe Chremes may heare him. Hah, what ſaydſt thou? Is it Pamphilus childe?

My.

Why I pray thée and is it not?

Chr.

To him ſelf. I ſée I did wel alwaies to ſhun this ſame marriage.

Da.

O notable prank worthie of puniſhment.

My.

What exclaming makeſt thou?

Da.

Why, did not I ſée this ſame child brought vnto you yeſterday in the euening?

My.

O thou braſen faaſt fellow.

Da.

Dauus vrgeth Myſis to proue plainely that the child is borne of Glycerie, leaſt otherwiſe Chremes ſhould imagin it to be a fayned matter, as Simo doth. Act. 3. Scen. 1. At leaſt I ſaw Gammar Canthara with her clothes tuckt about her, carrying ſomewhat in her lap.

My.

In good faith yet I thank GOD with all my hart, that there were ſome frée women of the citie, at my miſtres deliuerance.

Da.

Without doubt ſhe knewe not him, for whoſe cauſe ſhe takes this matter in hand. If Chremes ſhall ſée this ſame childe, layd héere before the doore, then will he not giue his daughter in marriage: Ah, in good ſooth he will giue her ſomuch the ſooner.

Chr.

Meaning by him ſelfe. But in good ſooth he will not.

Da.

Now be thou well aſſured of this, that if thou do not take awaie the childe, I will by and by ſpurn it into the midſt of the ſtrete, where I will trample thée alſo in the durt.

My.

In good ſadneſſe fellow, thou art not well in thy wits.

Da.

One deceitfull deuiſe bringes an other to light: I heare now ſuch whiſpering among them, that this ſame Glycerie is frée borne of Athens.

Chr.

Chremes ſpeakes ſtill to himſelfe. What is this?

Da.

So as he ſhall be driuen by law to marry her.

My.

Why I pray thée, and is ſhe not frée of this Citie indéede?

Chr.

I ſée I was well nigh fallen into a ſhrewd ſporting game vnawares.

Da.

Who talketh here? O Chremes, you come, in as good time as may be: heare me what I ſhall ſay.

Chr.

I haue heard euery word alredy.

Da.

What, haue you hard all this talke?

Chr.

I tell thee I hard all from the beginning.

Da.

I pray you and haue you hard it in déede? fye, out vppon theſe lewd pranks: Now ſhould this ſame queane be had hence into Bridewell. This ſame is the man thou doſt mock: think not then, that thou mockeſt Dauus.

My.

Alas for me vnhappy wench that I am: In good ſooth, olde father, I haue tolde nothing but truth.

Chr.

I know the whole matter already: but is Simo within.

Da.

Yes.

My.

It ſeems that Dauus offereth to d • ly and play with Myſis, ſeeking thereby to pleaſe her: and ſhee wil not abide him. Touch me not thou varlet. By God if I tell not all this vnto Glicerie, [neuer credit me.]

Da.

Why thou fooliſh wench, thou perceiueſt not what is don.

My.

What ſhould I perceiue?

Da.

This man is the brides father: it might not otherwiſe be compaſſed, to make him vnderſtād theſe things that we would haue him.

My.

Why then, thou ſhouldſt haue told me ſo before.

Da.

I pray thée now, and doſt thou thinke but ſmall difference betwéene that, that one doth in good earneſt, and that which is done for the nones.

¶Act. 4. Scen. 5. The Argument.

CRITO comming from Andres to Athens, enquireth whether Glycerie haue found out who be her parents or no: and vnderſtanding that ſhe hath not yet found them, hee is therewith much greeued, bycauſe that matter doth hinder his enioying of the goods fallen vnto him by Glyceries death.

Crito, the ſtranger. Myſis. Dauus.

IT was tolde me, that héere in this ſtréete, dwelt Chryſis, who choſe rather in this town to gather goods with diſhoneſty, than to lead an honeſt poore life, in her owne countrey. By whoſe death, thoſe ſame goods, by right of law, are come to me. But I ſée now of whom I may enquire. God ſpéede you.

My.

I pray you whom doo I ſée? Is not this Crito, coſin germain to Chryſis? it is euen he.

Cr.

O Myſis, God ſaue you.

My.

And you too good Crito.

Cr.

Alack for pity, and is Chryſis dead indéede?

My.

Yea truly forſooth, we poore ſoules are vndon by hir death.

Cr.

Why, what do you? how goeth the world with you here, all well?

My.

What we? Truly (as the prouerb goeth) Wee doo as wee may, ſith wee may not as wee would.

Cr.

How fares Glycerie, hath ſhe found out yet who be her parents here?

My.

Would God ſhe had.

Cr.

Why than, & hath ſhe not yet? Than in an il howre am I come hether. For in good faith if I had knowen this, I would neuer haue ſet foot forward in this iourney. For ſhe hath euer bin held and reputed for Chryſis own ſiſter. She is in preſent poſſeſſion of al that ye other had. And now, for me a ſtranger to go follow ſutes and brables in law, how eaſy and profitable a matter were that for me here to doo, euen the examples of others doo foreſhew me. Beſides that, I cannot but thinke, that ſhe hath now ſome frend and defender, for ſhe was of méetely good age and ſtature, when ſhe went from vs. I ſhould be exclaimed vpon to bée a beggerly fogger, gréedily hunting after heritage. And moreouer, it were no reaſon to ſpoyle her of that ſhe hath.

My.

O Gaffar Crito, in good ſooth full well doſt thou kéepe thy old wont ſtill.

Cr.

Well, ſith I am come hether, bring me to her, that I may yet ſée her.

My.

With a very-good will.

Da.

I will follow theſe, but I would not for any thing, that the old man ſhould now ſée me.

¶Act. 5. Scen. 1. The Argument.

SIMO earneſtly deſireth to effect the marriage: Chremes on the other ſide vtterly renounceth Pamphilus for his ſonne in law, bycauſe hee hath a childe by Glycerie.

Chremes. Simo.

WEL neighbour Simo, you haue now had tryall enough and enough againe, of my loue and frendſhip towards you. I began to enter into daunger far enough for you. Now at length ceaſe your entreating: for whyle I bent my ſelfe to follow your fancie, I had well nigh caſt away my doughter.

Si.

Nay rather (neighbour Chremes) I moſt inſtantly requeſt and beſeech you, that you will now performe in déede, the good turne that ere whyle you promiſed me on your woord.

Chr.

See how vnreaſonable you are, reſpecting your owne deſire: ſo you may bring to paſſe what you would haue, you neither regard a meane in courteſie, nor yet conſider what you requeſt at my hands: for if you did, you would (now at laſt) geue ouer to ſurcharge mee with your vnreaſonablenes.

Si.

With what vnreaſonablenes?

Chr.

Why, & do you aſke me with what? mary ſir, you enforced me thus far, that to a looſe young man entangled in loue with a ſtrange harlot, and vtterly miſliking marriage, I ſhould giue my daughter to wife, to be in daily diſcord, and vncertaine ſtate of wedlock, to thend that with her trauail, and trooble, I might heale your ſonnes diſeas. You obteyned this at my hands, and I went about it while there was any boote: now it boots not, you muſt therefore beare with me. They ſay, that ſame woman is frée born of this Cittie. She is deliuered of a childe. Séeke to vs no further.

Si.

I beſech you for Gods ſake, not to giue your minde to credit thoſe, whoſe greateſt profit groweth by my ſonnes lewdeſt liuing: All this, is but forged and framed for the nones, by reaſon of this marriage: when the cauſe why they do this, is once taken away, Then they will ceaſe.

Chr.

You are diceyued, for I my ſelfe ſaw her maide chiding and brawling with Dauus.

Si.

I graunt you.

Chr.

Nay but in right good earneſt, when as neither of them both was aware of my being there.

Si.

I beléeue it well, and that they would do ſo, Dauus fortolde me a prety while ſince, but I wot not how, otherwiſe than I ment, I forgot to tell you ſomuch.

¶Act. 5. Scen. 2. The Argument.

SIMo hearing by Dauus, that there was one come, which affirmed Glycerie to be free borne of Athens: in a great rage, cauſeth Dauus to be had into priſon faſt bound. And herein, Terence doth liuely expreſſe the vſuall manner both of an angry father, and alſo of an angrie maſter.

Dauus. Chremes. Simo. Dromo, the whipping Bedle.

AT my word, now (at length) ſet your hart at reſt:

Chr.

Thus Simo and Chremes do talk betwixt themſelues, & Dauus goeth on ſtill in his ſpeach. Sée where Dauus is.

Si.

Thus Simo and Chremes do talk betwixt themſelues, & Dauus goeth on ſtill in his ſpeach. Whence comes he?

Da.

What thorough my helpe, and yonder ſtranger.

Si.

He ſpeaketh out of Dauus hearing. What knauery is that?

Da.

I haue not ſéene a méeter man, a more ſeaſonable comming, nor a fitter time.

Si.

And ſo heere likewiſe. Whome doth this varlet prays thus?

Da.

Now all is out of danger.

Si.

Why doo I linger to ſpeake to him?

Da.

Now at laſt he eſpyeth Simo. My maſter is here, what ſhall I do.

Si.

O, all haill to you honeſt man.

Da.

Now maſter, and maſter Chremes, all things be in a redines within.

Si.

O it is trimly don of you.

Da.

Now ſend for him when you will.

Si.

Very well ſurely: that is the cauſe forſooth he is now abſent: Nay but aunſwere me to this, what buſines haſt thou there? That is in Glyceries houſe

Da.

Who, I?

Si.

Yea.

Da.

What, I?

Si.

Yea, you ſirra.

Da.

I went in but euen now.

Si.

As though I aſked how long ago it was.

Da.

Your ſonne and I went in together.

Si.

Why than, and is Pamphilus within? I am ſtill vext vnhappy man that I am. Why thou hangman thou, didſt not thou tell me that they are fallen at debate.

Da.

So they are.

Si.

What makes he there than?

Chr.

This is ſpoken in deriſion. What think you that he is a dooing? he is ſure chiding with her.

Da.

Nay but maſter Chremes, you ſhall here me tel you of a notable ſtrange matter: I wot not what olde man is come yonder euen now, but to looke to, he is a ſubſtantiall and warie man: if you ſawe his face, you would take him for a right honeſt man. In his countenance is ſad grauitie, and his wordes do ſound of truth.

Si.

What tydings bringſt thou?

Da.

Nothing forſooth but what I hard him ſay.

Si.

And what ſaith he, I pray you?

Da.

Mary that he knoweth Glycerie to be a frée born woman of Athens.

Si.

Simo calles for him that whips the ſlaues. Hola howh, Dromo, Dromo.

Dro.

What is the matter?

Si.

Dromo.

Da.

Why, here me ſir.

Si.

If thou ſpeake one word more—Dromo.

Da.

I beſech you here me.

Dro.

What would you haue ſir?

Si.

Hoyſe vp this knaue on thy back, and cary him in as faſt as thou canſt.

Dr.

Whom?

Si.

Dauus.

Da.

Wherefore?

Si.

Bycauſe I will haue it ſo, take him away I ſay.

Da.

What haue I don ſir?

Si.

Away with him.

Da.

If you do finde that I told you any lye, kill me furth right.

Si.

I will not here one word: I ſhall ſet thée in a beate by and by, I warrant thée.

Da.

What, notwithſtanding I ſay nothing but Troth?

Si.

He ſpeakes to Dromo. Yea neuertheleſſe, ſirra ſée thou that he be kept faſt fetterd: and heareſt thou me? binde his hands and féete together, He turnes his ſpeach to Dauus and Pamphilus. Now ſir go to: By God if I liue this day to an end, I will teach thée and him both, what danger it is for the one of you to beguile his maſter, and for the other to deceiue his father.

Chr.

Tuſh man, be not in ſo great a rage.

Si.

O Chremes, do you not pitie me, to ſée what reuerend regard my ſonne hath towards me? and that I ſhould take ſomuch trauaill for ſuch a ſonne? Well go to Pamphilus: Come out here Pamphilus, Is there no ſhame in thée?

Act. 5. Scen. 3. The Argument.

SIMO ſharply rebuketh his ſonne: who confeſſing his fault, ſubmitteth himſelfe wholy vnto his fathers pleaſure, Chremes endeuoreth to appeaſe thextreame Rage of Simo.

Pamphilus. Simo. Chremes.

WHo calles me? O I am vndone, it is my father.

Si.

What ſaieſt thou? thou arrand—

Chr.

Fie, go to the matter, and ceaſe your euill language.

Si.

Yea as though there could be any name to ill for this fellow. Now ſirra, doo you ſay the ſame too? Is Glycerie frée bone of this Citie?

Pamph.

So it is reported.

Si.

So it is reported? O wonderfull impudency, dooth he conſider what he ſayth, thinke you? is he any thing ſorry for his miſdéede? Nay but ſée, dooth his colour any whit change, or ſhew any ſigne of ſhamefaſtnes? is it meete he ſhould be ſo vnruly, as that contrary to the cuſtome of his cuntrimen, contrary to law, and contrary to the minde of his father, hée doo labour to haue that ſame naughty packe, euen to his vtter infamie and reproche?

Pam.

Wo is me, forlorne man that I am.

Si.

O Pamphilus, Pamphilus, doſt thou now perceiue that, and neuer before? Long ſince ywis, long ſince, when thou gaueſt thy mynde ſo lewdly, as that by one meane or other thou muſt fulfill thy luſt: lo, euen that very firſt day, had this bin truely ſayd of thée. But what meane I? why do I vexe and diſquiet my ſelfe? why doo I conſume my ſelfe with care? why doo I weare my old age, with ſorrowing for his madnes? is it, that I ſhould ſuffer puniſhment for his faults? Nay rather, let him haue her: and farewell hée: let him liue with her and ſpare not.

Pam.

My good father.

Si.

What my good father? as who ſhould ſay, you haue any néede of this father: why, you haue got you houſe, and wife, and children, and all maugre your fathers hart. There be alſo thoſe brought, which affirme that ſame quean to be frée borne of this city: wel, you ſhall haue the victory.

Pam.

Father, may I ſpeake a word or twoo?

Si.

What wilt thou ſay to me?

Chr.

O Simo, yet heare him.

Si.

I heare him Chremes? what ſhould I heare him?

Chr.

Why man, yet geue him leaue to ſpeake.

Si.

Well go too, he may ſpeake, I let hm not.

Pamph.

Father, I confeſſe I loue that ſame woman: and if that be an offence, I confeſſe that alſo. I ſubmit my ſelfe into your hands father, lay vppon mee what charge you will: commaund me. Is it your pleaſure I ſhould marry a wife? will you haue mée forgo this woman? well, I will beare all as I may. Onely this I beſéech you, not to beléeue that this old man is come hether by my appointment. Geue mee leaue to cléere my ſelfe, and that I may bring the man here before your face.

Si.

That thou maiſt bring him here?

Pam.

Yea Father, ſuffer. mée.

Chr.

He craues but reaſon, geue him leaue.

Pam.

Let me obteine this much at your hands.

Si.

I am content. Chremes, I yéeld to any thing, ſo that I finde not my ſelfe to be deceiued by this fellow.

Chr.

Small puniſhment contents a father, for a great offence in his ſonne.

¶Act. 5. Scen. 4. The Argument.

In this ſcene Crito of Athens meeteth both with Simo and Chremes, wherby the whole error of the comoedy is laid opē: for here, Glycerie is manifeſted to be the doughter of Chremes.

Crito, the ſtranger. Chremes. Simo. Pamphilus.

CEas to pray me, any one of theſe reſpects, ſhall cauſe mée to doo it: as either for your owne ſake, or for that the matter is truth, or in reſpect that I wiſh well to Glycerie.

Chr.

What, is it Crito of Andros that I doo ſée? Truly it is hée indéede. Welcome Crito: what make you at Athens, being here ſuch a ſtranger?

Cr.

It is ſo fallen out. But is this Simo?

Chr.

This ſame is hée.

Si.

What, is it for mée thou aſkeſt? why ſirra, doſt thou ſay that Glycerie is frée borne of this Citie?

Cr.

Dooſt thou deny it?

Si.

What, and art thou come ſo well prouided indéede.

Cr.

Why ſo?

Si.

Aſkeſt thou why? ſhalt thou doo this, and ſcape vnpuniſhed? doſt thou toll here into thy ſnare, yong men voyd of experience, and honeſtly brought vp? Art thou hée that féedeſt furth their mindes with intyſing & faire promiſing?

Cr.

Abyde, art thou well in thy wits?

Si.

And doſt thou make marriages betwixt them and the harlots that they are in loue withall?

Pamph.

This to himſelfe. Alas I am vndon, I feare me the ſtranger will haue neuer a word to ſay.

Chr.

Simo, if you knew this man thorowly, you would not think ſo of him: this is an honeſt man.

Si.

May this fellow be an honeſt man? comes he this day ſo iump in the very time of this marriage: and could he come neuer before now? why Chremes, is this a man to bée beléeued?

Pam.

Were I not afeard of my father, I could tell him that which would ſatiſfie him in this point well ynough.

Si.

Hah fogging knaue.

Cr.

What?

Chr.

O Crito beare with him, this is his faſhon.

Cr.

Nay let him conſider what he is: As for me, if hée procéede to call mée at his pleaſure, hée ſhall heare that, that ſhall bée litle to his lyking. Doo I let that ſame marriage? or doo I ought at all paſſe for it? He turnes his ſpeech to Simo. Thou doſt not beare thy gréefe patiently: for as touching what I ſpake, whether it bée true or falſe that you heard, may ſoone be knowen.

Here is recited the argument of the Comoedie. A certaine man of Athens, a good while ſince, ſuffring Shipwracke, was caſt on ſhore at Andros, together with that ſame Glycerie, as than a little childe. This man being than in néede & neceſſitie: by chaunce firſt arriued at the houſe of Chryſis father.

Si.

Now he beginnes a fable.

Chr.

Suffer him to go on.

Cr.

What, euen ſo indéede? hée interrupts me.

Chr.

Go on with your tale.

Cr.

Moreouer, hée which receiued him into his houſe, was my Coſin: there did I heare the man himſelfe ſay, that hée was of Athens: and in that houſe he died.

Chr.

What was his name?

Cr.

would you know his name ſo quickly? Phania.

Chr.

Out alas to day.

Cr.

In good ſooth, I take it, his name was Phania. This I am well aſſured of, that he ſaid he was a Rhamnus was a famous village by Athens. And Rhamnuſius, 〈◊〉 is a mā of that village. Rhamnuſian.

Chr.

O the King of heauen.

Cr.

Yea Chremes, there were than many other in Andros, which hard him ſay the ſame.

Chr.

Would to God it were no otherwiſe than I hope for. But tell me this Crito, what ſaid he than as touching the girle? dyd hée ſay that ſhée was his doughter?

Cr.

No.

Chr.

Whoſe than?

Cr.

His brothers doughter.

Chr.

Without dowt ſhe is myne.

Cr.

What ſay you?

Si.

Nay what ſaieſt thou?

Pamph.

Liſten to this geare Pamphilus.

Si.

What think you of this?

Chr.

That ſame Phania was my brother.

Si.

I knew the man, and I wot wel he was your brother.

Chr.

He flying hence, for feare of the warre, takes his way after me into Aſia, and than he was afraid to leaue her here behind him. Since which time, I neuer hard what became of him till now.

Pam.

I am well nigh beſide my ſelfe, my minde is ſo whelmed, with feare, hope, Ioy, and with wondring at ſo great, and ſo ſodeyn good hap.

Si.

Now in good faith, I am glad that by many proofs ſhe is found to be your daughter.

Pamph.

Father I beléeue it well.

Chr.

But there remaines yet one doubt, which ſore troubles me.

Pamph.

You are well worthie to be hated for your péeuiſh preciſenes: you make a doubt where all is as plaine as a pack ſtaf.

Cr.

What is that you doubt of?

Chr.

Her name falles not out right.

Cr.

Truly ſhe had an other name, when ſhe was a childe.

Chr.

What name? Cannot you remember it Crito?

Cr.

I am calling it to minde.

Pamph.

Shall I ſuffer this mans memory to be a hinderance vnto my wiſhed ioy, when as I may helpe my ſelfe in this point? no, I will not ſuffer it. Lo you heare Cremes, the name you ſéeke for, is Paſsibula.

Cr.

That ſame is ſhe.

Chr.

Is it euen ſhe.

Pamp.

ſhe hath told it me her own ſelf a thouſād times.

Si.

Chremes, I wene you beleue that we all reioyce at this.

Chr.

Yea ſo God me help, doo I beleue it.

Pamph.

Father, what remaines now to be don?

Si.

The matter it ſelfe hath reconciled me a good while ſince.

Pamph.

O an excellent father. Chremes altereth nothing as touching my wife, but that I may ſtill enioy her, as I haue don.

Chr.

Mary and good cauſe why. Vnleſſe your father ſay otherwiſe.

Pamph.

Onely, as touching the dowry.

Si.

Yea marry, that.

Chr.

Pamphilus her dowry is fiue hundered pound.

Pamph.

I accept it.

Chr.

I will now hye me to my daughter, and you Crito, go with me: for I beleue ſhe neuer knew me.

Si.

And why doo you not rather cauſe her to be brought hether to you?

Pamph.

You put vs well in minde, I will preſently cauſe Dauus to go about that matter.

Si.

He cannot.

Pamph.

How ſo?

Si.

Mary bycauſe he hath a great matter of his own, which toucheth him néerer.

Pamph.

What is that?

Si.

He lieth bound in priſon.

Pamph.

Father, then is he wrongfully bound.

Si.

Not ſo, I commaunded it.

Pamph.

I beſeche you, command that he be let looſe.

Si.

Go to, be it ſo.

Pamph.

But make haſt than.

Si.

I go in ſtraight way.

Pamph.

O Bliſfull and happy day that this is.

¶Act. 5. Scen. 5. The Argument.

PAMPHILVS declareth vnto Dauus, how that Glycerie is found to be free borne of Athens, & that he ſhall marry her Likewiſe Carinus ſheweth vnto Pamphilus, that by his meanes, he alſo may obtaine Philumena at Chremes hands. This Scene brings an other ſonne in law to Chremes: leaſt that either Carinus ſhould depart away ſorowfull, or that Philumena ſhould be left vnprouided for.

Carinus. Pamphilus. Dauus.

I I am come furth, to ſée what Pamphilus is a doing: but lo where he is.

Pamph.

Perhaps ſome body would think that I ſkant beleue this to be true, but I will haue it to be true, as it is in déede. I ſuppoſe that therefore the lyfe of the Gods is euerlaſting, bycauſe pleaſures do properly belong vnto them: for mine own part, I am in heauen al redy, if ſo be it, no griefe of minde doo intermingle with this ioy. But now what man ſhould I moſt ſpecially deſire to méete withall, to whome I might ſhew all that hath happened.

Car.

This to himſelfe. What great ioy is that?

Pamph.

Lo, I ſee Dauus: There is no man liuing that I would fayner haue: for I am ſure that he, of all other, will vnfainedly reioyce at my ioy and gladneſſe.

Da.

whereabout here, is Pamphilus?

Pamph.

Dauus.

Da.

What man is that?

Pamph.

It is I.

Da.

O my maſter Pamphilus.

Pamph.

Thou wotſt not what hath hapned to me.

Da.

Very true, but I wot well what hath hapned to my ſelfe.

Pamph.

And ſo doo I too.

Da.

Yea it came to pas after the common courſe of the world, that you knew of the euil that hapned to me, ſooner than I knew of the good that hapned to you.

Pamph.

My ſwéete loue Glycerie, hath found out who be her parents.

Da.

O happy chaunce.

Car.

This he ſaith to himſelfe. What is that?

Pamph.

Her father is a very ſpeciall frend of ours.

Da.

Who is that?

Pamph.

Chremes.

Da.

You ſay well.

Pamph.

Neither is there any let or tariance, but that I may marry her out of hand.

Car.

This is ſpoken out of the hearing of Pamphilus. What, doth he not dreame trow you, that which his minde ran vpon being awake?

Pamph.

Now moreouer Dauus, as touching the childe.

Da.

Tuſh let it alone, God doth ſpecially prouide for it aboue all other children.

Car.

Carinus is ouer heard by Pamphilus. I am a made man, if this be true: I will ſure ſpeake with him.

Pamph.

What man is there? O Carinus, you come to me, euen as well as heart can wiſh.

Car.

It is well.

Pamph.

What, haue you heard the matter?

Car.

Yes euery whit: Go to, haue ſome reſpect of me, now in the time of your proſperitie: I know that Chremes is now yours altogether, and will doo all that you will haue him doo.

Pamph.

I wot it full well: but it would be too long for vs, to tarry and looke for his comming furth:

Therefore follow me along this way: he is now within with Glicerie. Dauus go thou thy way home: hye thée, go for company to bring her away hence. Why doſt thou ſtand ſtill? why goeſt thou not?

Da.

I am going.

This ſeems not to he ſpoken by any of the interloquutors, but by ſome other comming laſt on the ſtage. Do not ſtay looking for their comming out: for ſhée ſhall be betrothed within: and if any thing more remaine to be don, it ſhall bée diſpatcht within alſo.

Now clap hands, and reioyce.

FINIS.

Here is to be vnderſtood that as Pamphilus hath Glycerie to wife: Euen ſo Carinus likewiſe hath Philumena, the other Doughter of Chremes.