GETA. Plague on you!
DORIO (_to PHaeDRIA_). I have, against my natural disposition, Borne with you several months, still promising, Whimpering, and ne'er performing any thing: Now, on the contrary, I've found a spark, Who'll prove a ready-paymaster, no sniveler: Give place then to your betters!
ANT. Surely, Phaedria, There was, if I remember, a day settled That you should pay the money down.
PHaeD. There was.
DORIO. Do I deny it?
ANT. Is the day past?
DORIO. No.
But this has come before it.
ANT. Infamous!
Ar'n't you asham'd of such base treachery?
DORIO. Not I, while I can get by't.
GETA. Scavenger!
PHaeD. Is this just dealing, Dorio?
DORIO. 'Tis my way: So, if you like me, use me.
ANT. Can you deceive him thus?
DORIO. Nay, Antipho, 'Tis he deceives me: he was well aware What kind of man I was, but I believ'd Him diff'rent. He has disappointed me, But I am still the same to him as ever.
However, thus much I can do for him; The Captain promis'd to pay down the money To-morrow morning. But now, Phaedria, If you come first, I'll follow my old rule, "The first to pay shall be first serv'd." Farewell. (_Exit._
SCENE VI.
_PHaeDRIA, ANTIPHO, GETA._
PHaeD. What shall I do? Unhappy that I am, How shall I, who am almost worse than nothing, Raise such a sum so suddenly?--Alas!
Had I prevail'd on him to wait three days, I had a promise of it.
ANT. Shall we, Geta, Suffer my Phaedria to be miserable?
My best friend Phaedria, who but now, you said, Assisted me so heartily?--No--Rather Let us, since there is need, return his kindness!
GETA. It is but just, I must confess.
ANT. Come then; 'Tis you alone can save him.
GETA. By what means?
ANT. Procure the money.
GETA. Willingly: but whence?
ANT. My father is arriv'd.
GETA. He is: what then?
ANT. A word to the wise, Geta!
GETA. Say you so?
ANT. Ev'n so.
GETA. By Hercules, 'tis rare advice.
Are you there with me? will it not be triumph, So I but 'scape a scouring for your match, That you must urge me to run risks for him?
ANT. He speaks the truth, I must confess.
PHaeD. How's that?
Am I a stranger to you, Geta?
GETA. No: Nor do I hold you such. But is it nothing That the old man now rages at us all, Unless we irritate him so much further As to preclude all hopes to pacify him?
PHaeD. Shall then another bear her hence? Ah me!
Now then, while I remain, speak to me, Antipho.
Behold me!
ANT. Wherefore? what is it you mean?
PHaeD. Wherever she's convey'd, I'll follow her; Or perish.
GETA. Heaven prosper your designs!-- Gently, Sir, gently!
ANT. See if you can help him.
GETA. Help him! but how?
ANT. Nay, think, invent, devise; Lest he do something we repent of, Geta!
GETA. I'm thinking. (_Pausing._)--Well then I believe, he's safe.
But I'm afraid of mischief.
ANT. Never fear: We'll bear all good and evil fortune with you.
GETA. Tell me the sum you have occasion for.
PHaeD. But thirty minae.
GETA. Thirty! monstrous, Phaedria!
She's very dear.