SYRUS. Sir!

CHREM. What now?

SYRUS. Nothing.--But I wonder
To see you up so early in the morning,
Who drank so freely yesterday.

CHREM. Not much.

SYRUS. Not much? You have, Sir, as the proverb goes,
The old age of an eagle.

CHREM. Ah!

SYRUS. A pleasant,
Good sort of girl, this wench of Clinia's.

CHREM. Aye, so she seems.

SYRUS. And handsome.

CHREM. Well enough.

SYRUS. Not like the maids of old, but passable,
As girls go now: nor am I much amaz'd
That Clinia dotes upon her. But he has,
Alas, poor lad! a miserable, close,
Dry, covetous, curmudgeon to his father:
Our neighbor here; d'ye know him?--Yet, as if
He did not roll in riches, his poor son
Was forc'd to run away for very want.
D'ye know this story?

CHREM. Do I know it? Aye.
A scoundrel! should be horse-whipp'd.

SYRUS. Who?

CHREM. That slave
Of Clinia's----

SYRUS. Troth, I trembled for you, Syrus! (_Aside._)

CHREM. Who suffer'd this.

SYRUS. Why what should he have done?

CHREM. What?--have devis'd expedients, contriv'd schemes,
To raise the cash for the young gentleman
To make his mistress presents; and have done
A kindness to th' old hunks against his will.

SYRUS. You jest.

CHREM. Not I: it was his duty, Syrus.

SYRUS. How's this? why prithee then, d'ye praise those slaves,
Who trick their masters?

CHREM. Yes upon occasion.

SYRUS. Mighty fine, truly!

CHREM. Why, it oft prevents
A great deal of uneasiness: for instance,
This Clinia, Menedemus' only son,
Would never have elop'd.

SYRUS. I can not tell
Whether he says all this in jest or earnest;
But it gives fresh encouragement to me. (_Aside._)

CHREM. And now what is't the blockhead waits for, Syrus?
Is't till his master runs away again,
When he perceives himself no longer able
To bear with the expenses of his mistress?
Has he no plot upon th' old gentleman?

SYRUS. He's a poor creature.

CHREM. But it is your part,
For Clinia's sake, to lend a helping hand.

SYRUS. Why, that indeed I easily can do,
If you command me; for I know which way.

CHREM. I take you at your word.

SYRUS. I'll make it good.

CHREM. Do so.

SYRUS. But hark ye, Sir! remember this,
If ever it hereafter comes to pass,
--As who can answer for th' affairs of men!
That your own son----

CHREM. I hope 'twill never be.

SYRUS. I hope so too; nor do I mention this
From any knowledge or suspicion of him:
But that in case--his time of life, you know;
And should th