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 4.

Bacchis, Antiphila, Clinia, Syrus.

B.

TRuly my Antiphila, I commend you, and deem you Fortunate, seeing you endeavoured that your conditions might be answerable to your beautie: And (I swear) I do not wonder, though every one desire to enjoy you, For your talk discovered to me of what disposition you are, and when I consider [line 5] With my self your course of life, and also of all such as you, who cast off vulgar persons, it is no wonder That you are such as you are, and that we are not. For it stands you in hand to be honest; They with whom we have to doe, will not suffer us. For lovers being taken with our beauty Do haunt us; when this is decayed, they turn their minds elsewhere; Unless we have provided somewhat for our selves in the mean time, we live forlorn. [line 10] Ye are resolved to spend your time with one husband, whose beha∣viour is Very answerable to yours; these apply themselves to you; by this good turn Ye are so really linked one to another, that never any mishap Can befal your love.

Ant.

I know not what other women are, but I know I have always done my best, That I might do my self good by seeking his good.

Clin.

Ah, then [line 15] My Antiphila, you alone bring me back again into my countrey. For whilst I was absent from you, I thought all the pains which I un∣dertook were nothing, But only that I was without your company.

Syr.

I beleeve you.

Clit.

Sy∣rus, I have much ado To forbear. That I poor man may not do now as it liketh my self;

Syr.

Nay, for as I see your father is disposed, a long while he will deal hardly with you.

B.

[line 20] What yong man is this that looketh at us?

Ant.

Ah, hold me, I pray you.

B.

I pray you, what ail you?

Ant.

I am undone poor woman.

B.

Antiphila, Why are you ready to sound.

Ant.

Do I see Clinia, or no?

B.

Whom do you see?

Clin.

God save you my dear-heart.

Ant.

O my long-looked for Clinia, God save you.

Clin.

How do you?

Ant.

I am glad that you are come safe home.

Clin.

[line 25] Do I imbrace you Antiphila, whom my heart so much desireth?

Syr.

Get ye in, for the old man hath tarried for you a good while.