Mercator, or The Merchant (829_sp15-829_sp44)

I hear; let her go on.

I’ll let her.

He says that she has come hither to our house for the sake of an old gentleman, a friend; that he has her for sale, so that he may withdraw her from his son, who’s in love with her. This really is a falsehood, either in my husband or my son; the accounts differ. The husband says that she was given him as a deposit; but the son says that she’s on sale.

I’ll go meet her on a sudden, that she mayn’t find out that I’ve been loitering.

In this matter I shan’t believe my son, who’s acting in compliance with his father; for, for him, like a regular cuckoo[*], has he determined to tell abundance of lies: for my own part I shall believe the Cook, in preference. But see, here’s Syra. How the old witch does run. Syra!

Who’s calling me?

The Gods send a plague upon you!

Mistress, if you are wise, bestow this upon your rival and your husband in preference.

For saying that, I’m no longer angry with you. But where’s your father? Why does he delay? Does gout hinder the man?

He’s lame with neither gout nor chalk-stones[*], whom his feet carry into the country.

Not at home?

No.

Where then?

They say he’s in the country, and that it’s uncertain whether he’ll return to-day, he has such a large account with his bailiff.

Everything is befalling me this day contrary to my wishes. I shan’t live till the evening, unless I drive that hussy away from the house. (She turns to the door.) I’m going home.

The mistress is going away.

What, going away? Call her.

Dorippa! Dorippa!

What nuisance is this? Who’s calling me back?

I’m not a nuisance, but a well-wisher; and it’s your friend Peristrata addresses you. Prithee, do stay.

Why, Peristrata—i’ faith, I didn’t know you: dreadful vexation is tormenting and agitating me.

This I enquire about—prithee don’t deny me. I heard you just now; tell me what annoyance is troubling you.

Peristrata, so may the Gods prosper your only son, do kindly lend me your attention; none could be given me more agreably: our ages are alike; together we grew up; we have husbands alike in age; with no one do I converse with greater pleasure. I’m really annoyed with good reason. What now would your feelings be, if at this time of life your husband Demipho were to bring a mistress before your eyes?

Has he brought one?

So it is.

She’s at your house?

At my house; aye, and cooks were hired; a banquet was being prepared, if my coming hadn’t upset everything. Venus and Cupid are tormenting the wretched old fellow at an unseasonable time.

But these things are trifles, Dorippa. I wish that I wasn’t more wretched.

Trifles?

Really trifles.