Mercator, or The Merchant (380-410)

I’m not afraid now lest he should be able to come to know that I’m in love with her, because I’ve not as yet done anything in a foolish manner, as people in love are wont to do.

I’ faith, the affair for the present is really quite safe; for I’m quite certain that he doesn’t know anything about that mistress of mine; if he did know, his talk would have been different.

Why don’t I accost him about her?

Why don’t I betake myself off hence?

(Aloud.) I’m going to deliver the commissions from my friends to their friends.

Nay, but stop; I still want to make a few enquiries of you first.

Say what it is you wish.

Have you all along been well?

Quite well all the time, so long, indeed, as I was there; but as soon as I had arrived here in harbour, I don’t know what faintness it was came over me.

I’ faith, I suppose it arose from sea-sickness; but it will be going off just now.

But how say you? What servant-maid is this that you have brought from Rhodes for your mother?

I’ve brought one.

Well, what sort of a woman is she as to appearance?

Not an ill-favored one, i’ faith.

How is she as to manners?

In my way of thinking, I never saw one better.

So, indeed, i’ faith, she seemed to me when I saw her.

How now, have you seen her, father?

I have seen her; but she doesn’t suit our ways, and so she doesn’t please me.

Why so?

Because she hasn’t a figure suitable to our establishment; we stand in need of no female servant but one who can weave, grind, chop wood, make yarn, sweep out the house, stand a beating, and who can have every day’s victuals cooked for the household. This one will be able to do not any single one of these things.

Why, in fact,

for this reason I purchased her, to make a present of her to my mother.

Don’t you be giving her, nor mention that you have brought her.

The Deities favour me.

I’m shaking him by slow degrees. (Aloud.) But, what I omitted to say,—she can neither with due propriety follow your mother as an attendant;

nor will I allow it.

But why?

Because, with those good looks, it would be scandalous if she were to be following a matron when she’s walking through the streets; all people would be staring, gazing, nodding, winking, hissing, twitching, crying out, be annoying, and singing serenades at our door; my door, perhaps, would be filled with the charcoal marks[*] of her praises;

and, according as persons are scandalizing at the present day, they might throw it in the teeth of my wife and myself, that we are carrying on the business of a Procurer. Now what occasion is there for this?