Publii Terentii Carthaginiensis Afris poëtae lepidissimi comoediae sex Anglo-Latinae in usum ludi-discipulorum, quo Feliciùs venustatem linguae Latinae ad sermonem quotidianum exercendum assequantur / a Carolo Hoole ... = Six comedies of that excellent poet Publius Terentius, an African of Carthage, in English and Latine : for the use of young scholars, that they may the more readily attain the purity of the Latine tongue for common discourse / by Charles Hoole ...

Act II. Scene 1.

Phaedria, Parmeno.

Ph.

Do as I bade you, let those be brought away.

Par.

I will.

Ph.

But diligently.

Par.

It shall be done.

Ph.

But quickly.

Par.

It shall be done.

Ph.

Have I not Given you sufficient commands?

Par.

Do you go on to ask, as though i•• were such a hard matter? Phaedria, I wish you could as easily get any thing, [line 5] As this is sure to be lost.

Ph.

I am like to be lost my self too, which is a thing more precious to me; Do not you take that so impatiently.

Par.

No. But would you have any thing else, and I will dispatch it for you?

Ph.

Set out my present with words as well as you can, and thrust away T•…•… copes-mate from her as far as you can.

Par.

I remember it, though [line 10] You should say nothing of it.

Ph.

I will go into the country, and tarry there.

Par.

I think so.

Ph.

But do you bear?

Par.

What would you have?

Ph.

Do you think that I can Settle my self, and abide, so as not to come back again in the mean time?

Par.

What you? Truly I think not; for either you will return by and by, or your dreams after a while, Will drive you hitherway.

Ph.

I will do some work, until I be weary, [line 15] That I may sleep whether I will or no.

P.

You will lie waking, when you are weary, And then you will do this the rather.

Ph.

Alas, Parmeno, you talk to no purpose truly; This niceness of minde must be cast away. I pamper my self too much. Can I not be without her, if need be, for three days together?

Par.

Whoo, whole three days? beware what you do.

Ph.

I am resolved up∣on it.

Par.

[line 20] O wonderful what disease is this? that men should be so alter∣ed

By love, that you cannot know one to be the same he was? There was no man alive Less given to folly, nor any one more stayed, or that could better bridle his affections, than this man. But who is this that comes on hither? Ah, Ah, this indeed is Gnatho The Soldiers Parafite; he brings with him a Virgin for a present to her. O strange! [line 25] Of a beautifull countenance. It is a wonder, but I shall come basely off With this decrepit Eunuch of mine▪ She surpasseth Thai•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 self.