e, or any other common terms
By which men speak of fools, befit me well:
But him they suit not: his stupidity
Is so transcendent, it exceeds them all.
SCENE II.
_Enter CHREMES._
CHREM. (_to SOSTRATA, within_). Nay prithee, good wife, cease to stun
the Gods
With thanking them that you have found your daughter;
Unless you fancy they are like yourself,
And think they can not understand a thing
Unless said o'er and o'er a hundred times.
--But meanwhile (_coming forward_) wherefore do my son and Syrus
Loiter so long?
MENE. Who are those loiterers, Chremes?
CHREM. Ha, Menedemus, are you there?--Inform me,
Have you told Clinia what I said?
MENE. The whole.
CHREM. And what said he?
MENE. Grew quite transported at it,
Like those who wish for marriage.
CHREM. Ha! ha! ha!
MENE. What do you laugh at?
CHREM. I was thinking of
The cunning rogueries of that slave, Syrus. (_Laughing._)
MENE. Oh, was that it?
CHREM. Why, he can form and mould
The very visages of men, a rogue! (_Laughing._)
MENE. Meaning my son's well-acted transport?
CHREM. Aye. (_Laughing._)
MENE. The very same thing I was thinking of.
CHREM. A subtle villain! (_Laughing._)
MENE. Nay, if you knew more,
You'd be still more convinc'd on't.
CHREM. Say you so?
MENE. Aye; do but hear.
CHREM. (_laughing_). Hold! hold! inform me first
How much you're out of pocket. For as soon
As you inform'd your son of my consent,
Dromo, I warrant, gave you a broad hint
That the bride wanted jewels, clothes, attendants;
That you might pay the money.
MENE. No.
CHREM. How? No?
MENE. No, I say.
CHREM. What! nor Clinia?
MENE. Not a word;
But only press'd the marriage for to-day.
CHREM. Amazing!--But our Syrus? Did not he
Throw in a word or two?
MENE. Not he.
CHREM. How so?
MENE. Faith I can't tell: but I'm amaz'd that you,
Who see so clearly into all the rest,
Should stick at this.--But that arch villain Syrus
Has form'd and moulded your son too so rarely.
That nobody can have the least suspicion
That this is Clinia's mistress.
CHREM. How?
MENE. I pass
Their kisses and embraces. All that's nothing.
CHREM. What is there more than he can counterfeit?
MENE. Ah! (_Smiling._)
CHREM. What d'ye mean?
MENE. Nay, do but hear. I have
A private snug apartment, a back room,
Whither a bed was brought and made.
CHREM. What then?
MENE. No sooner done, than in went Clitipho.
CHREM. Alone?
ME
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