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CROB. Go, Pogglostus, and fetch a poet to extol Tyrophagus to the skies with an apotheosis. And we owe him altars, victims, worship, immortality, because of his shrewd cunning.
. And do you want me to fetch some temple or the Capitoline Hill itself on my shoulders?
. What are you men trying to do? I am a mortal, and a dunce, a blockhead, a moron in comparison with an unprincipled scoundrel such as yourself.
CROB. Would that you were speaking the truth! But day by day my skill diminishes by disuse, nor do I weave my deceptions as adroitly as I was wont to do. For love’s heat has dried up the stream of my swindles, everything died once I began to love, and you see this emaciation settled upon my frame, upon these “fields, where stood Troy of yore.” I am not even able to eat and drink as once I did, my belly is terribly oppressed by obstructions and obstipations. I fear starvation. Ow! Hey!
TYR. It shames me to hear you bleat. Quite to the contrary, Crobolus, you strike me as fortunate, since everything is going so much your way that if you cheered from dawn to dusk you could scarcely congratulate yourself enough on your happiness.
POG. As for myself, even if I were despised by gods and men, even if I were obliged to greet the gallows (which I expect to be my duty after I have accomplished all my feats), even if the republic were to go to ruins and the nation come to naught, I wouldn’t be a hair the sadder. Master, would you like to make a brief trial of my dexterity?
CROB. When my master Chremylus died I fancied myself a free man, but I see I was misled. I only traded masters, and a harsher condition of servitude awaits me. To my unhappiness, Cupid has loaded me down with new chains, mighty Love contains within himself a mill and a millstone, his whippers are hope and fear, which scourge my miserable mind with alternating blows. My mind is fixed and transfixed by Cupid’s shaft. And in the meantime I have this one consolation, that my tormentors have bound me to this plank, and as long as I cling to it I shall willingly let them murder me to death.
POG. But now you should be free, carefree, and frolicsome, because your enemy has been overcome and your comedy has prevailed.
CROB. We’re still in the prologue. The struggle yet remains, a most arduous one.
POG. If we must fight, master, in me you will have the living image of all club-bearers, and gentlemen’s shield-bearers.
CROB. This old coot holds my Lydia captive within, and unless he gets his money back, he’ll not let her go. And so now I must lease her as well as love her. But quickly I shall convene a Senate in my head. Come hither, Reason (always like a Caesar Augustus), and next Invention and Judgment (like two Consuls), followed by Love and Hate (Tribunes of the People), then Confidence and Circumspection (Aediles or Weights and Measures Men) with your servants Deceit and Bribery, and in last place, like the entire Equestrian order, the full crowd of my clever ideas. Deliberate, decide where I’m going to get the requisite cash. [He fixes his eyes on the ground and goes into a meditative trance.]
TYR. Why foolishly stare at the ground? It has no idea mine any more than it has a gold mine. Look up.
POG. [Knocking on his head.] Hey, open up! Who’s inside?
CROB. Do you disturb me thus, rascal?
POG. I want to have a word with one of the Senators in there. They’re holding their meeting in silence. Now doubt they’re snoozing in your Senate, like aldermen.
CROB. Don’t you remember that I’m your master, rude man? For this a gallows or garrote will be readied for you. Put the question again, great Caesar, so the Senate may deliberate. Aha, that’s telling ’ em! I like that imperial brevity.
POG. You threaten the gallows? My ancestral tomb. The gallows? Story of my life. Meanwhile, master, I can’t mourn your lot enough. You’re making your brain threadbare by loving, and likewise disemboweling yourself. Abandon this womanish attitude, let’s attempt some crime worthy of a Hercules.
CROB. Gods give you the death you deservee! Because of your noise I can’t hear what the Consuls are saying. But go on.
POG. By our wit and resources, master, let us rescue the gold (that most excellent of metals, that has merited so well of the republic) from the chains and dungeons of these great misers. And then let us most pleasantly indulge our inner natures, let us rewarm our hearts by a dose of wine (that whetstone of courage), let us give our jaws some exercise lest they succumb to rust. What do you say to these things, you who have an educated palate and a six-foot belly?
TYR. Your choppers are always a-chomping, your molars a-munching. But my belly is bloated with wind, not wine. But pray tell me, upon your oath, since you’re so bound to be a burglar, don’t you dread the gallows?
POG. Why should I be afraid? We all have to die once.
TYR. But it’s shameful to hang by a rope.
POG. Assuredly, for Alexander, Caesar, Pompey, and folk of that sort, from whom the vulgar derive their notion of true glory. But my nobility, founded on virtue rather than reputation, cannot be sullied by any disgrace.
CROB. Caesar, pray restrain the Tribunes of the People. They’re fighting.
TYR. You certainly have some high spirits, worthy of being elevated to the very highest degree, to the top stair of the scaffold.
POG. I think nothing shabbier than a deathbed demise, as being obscure. It’s finer to give up the ghost in the sight of your fellow citizens, surrounded by a throng of spectators. How inglorious to expire in some hole in the wall!
TYR. You philosophize wonderfully! All you lack is an audience, and some judges.
POG. He dies more divinely who is raised upon high; separated from this earthly dross, he becomes a citizen of the skies. His soul has a shorter trip as it flies heavenward.
TYR. I mislike this lofty wisdom. For what if the soul is Underworld-bound? Doesn’t it face a longer journey? But you try it, if you want. If the experiment pleases you, I’ll follow your example.
CROB. The Aedile’s servants can achieve more than the entire Equestrian order.
POG. You have cowardly spirits, and lack this noble blood. I’ll try your mettle in something easier. Care to play a while with a pair of dice?
TYR. My interests are disparate. But what have you to wager? I’d stake a pound against your body and soul.
CROB. [To himself.] Really? Quite right. But what if she refuses to deceive him with feigned love? But she’ll do it, since she adores me with true love and there’s no other way for her to get me or her freedom. But what if he refuses, or can’t hand over so much money? Bah, you’re too concerned with details. He can do so perfectly well, no doubt he’ll want to, since he thinks his life depends on her. But if he buys her at that price, why shouldn’t the wedding be held immediately? No problem: as soon as the money’s been counted out and paid us, we’ll pretend she has died. thus we’ll cheat him out of both her and the money. Done! The Senate has decreed. So they have voted, it’s sure to happen. [Aloud.] Good-by, Tyrophagus.
TYR. The gods favor your undertaking.
CROB. Let’s go, Pogglostus. [Exeunt omnes.]


DRO. Now then, Parillus, let us finish up while walking the business we began when seated, and so we’ll be more Peripatetic, and that by the most appropriate logic. For motion excites heat; heat, being of a fiery nature, seeks the higher regions; and there it engenders genius.
. [Aside.] And indeed there is need for him to heat himself by motion, or at to the fire, so frigid is a philosopher. [Aloud.] Wind up what you’ve begun, I pray. I shall make myself compliant and attentive, as I should.
DRO. And so this text we are discussing, KNOW THYSELF, has many notable features if you regard it as a discrete quantity, and weighty ones if you consider it in the whole. Some belong to the subject, others to the predicate. KNOW does not mean hear, taste, see or touch, for these are sensual things and pertain to all living animals. And in general there are four kinds of animal, the flying, the swimming, the crawling, and the walking. But KNOW means to understand a thing by means of its causes. this is an axiom. Yet there are four Causes, corresponding in number to the four winds in this world, and these Causes are similar to the four Primal Qualities, derived in turn from the four Elements. And men refer to these four as the Quaternities, though some call them Nature’s Square. Nature does not arise from the senses, hence neither does cognition.
PAR. [Aside.] My God, it seems he’s right. For his cognition is totally lacking in sense.
DRO. And at this point it is asked whether each Cause causes us to know. The answer is in the negative. For you must make an exception in the case of Privation. For Privation is an accidental cause and principle: for the absence of a thing signifies nothing. For which cause it is eliminated from the Predications. For original matter and original form are the constitutive causes, for from them all else proceeds, such as vivification, a certain form of prolification.
PAR. Of a surety, your argument is solid but not stolid.
DRO. And furthermore, to KNOW is not to flow with phrases and to have as many things as you have words, but rather to embrace the thing within oneself totally and completely, to have it under one’s skin with all its subsistent and inherent features. You understand, hm? I hope these things are not beyond your grasp.
PAR. You make me understand clearly some things I did not comprehend before.
DRO. What makes something be some way, is itself the same way to a greater degree. This boy here has blue eyes, a clear complexion, dainty little ears, and lips that are far from gross. According to the laws of physiognomy he is to be deemed bright and docile. For just as a disease is to be diagnosed from the urine, so is the mind itself from the face. And just as the ruling humor in the body manifests itself by evaporation via the pores and orifices, so this innate intellectual capacity makes an appearance in the expression.
PAR. If this is so, most learned master, my best method of learning would be to look at my face in a glass mirror every day, as my sister does. Tell me, am I right?
DRO. [To himself.] He certainly argues clearly. [Aloud.] Your job is not to debate me, Parillus. Now attend to what follows.
PAR. With avid ears I most eagerly await your wisdom.
DRO. Since as far as KNOWING goes, I have collected its homogenous elements and segregated its heterogeneous ones, now what are YOU? Flesh? Blood? An animate body? Not at all. When (e. g.) I call myself learned, I do not mean my physical mass, nor this “walking animal, bipedal, without feathers” (for a capon could fit that description), but rather my essential form which alone grants me my being, but rather that part called my intellect This is to be known to you with all its potentiality and entelechy.
PAR. I’d never have known such a mystery lay hidden beneath these famous words, had I not heard so today.
DRO. But here another doubtful point must be resolved. “Socrates runs; Socrates does not run”: in these two contradictory statements “Socrates” is not said in the sense of “Socrates’ soul.” For a soul is not moved in terms of locality. But it is improper to say “Socrates runs,” for in a sense he runs, as he is animal, but he does not run qua Socrates. But enough of these things for now. It will be looked into later.
PAR. Not even Apollo himself (whose precept this was) could have explained these things more divinely, and I think you his chief prophet. You speak just as he would, were he present.
DRO. I see you have a certain fiery spark, your judgment is so sound and discriminating. For I would defend this against all comers: if Apollo had written treatises in which he had disputed these things with precision, this could not have been said by him any more briefly and implicitly, or been so explicitly and comprehensively unraveled than by myself, if Philosophy will pardon me for so saying.
PAR. Assuredly he could not have answered your reasoning.
DRO. In this cause I have a veritable forest of syllogisms. Wherefore I can say boldly, let whoever wants come against me.
PAR. Our Pedantius was unaccustomed to use this method in gathering his arguments out of some Forest of Synonyms or Flowers of the Poets.
DRO. Daily he plays around with you in points of grammar, in the Nominative, the Ablative, the Verb. Now I will lift you higher to philosophy, as to the Polestar. For “ratiocination begins where declination leaves off.” But let these things suffice for now. Every kind of saturation is bad, and a saturation of syllogisms the worst of all. Let us depart. [Exeunt. Enter Pedantius and Ludio.


PED. Bring aid, ye citizens! Ye mortals and mortals, come to my assistance! Is a professor of polite letters to be gulled in this way? In what nation do we live? To what man’s faith should we appeal? What complaint, what adequate expression can be found for this our calamity? Would that Minos and Rhadamanthus would come back to life (for the other gods are all drinking nectar at their leisure whilst I, their orator, am beset by injuries). Hear, Minos, I am minus twenty pounds thanks to fraud. What an unworthy crime! I convinced myself I would be happy. But o Solon, Solon, this was your “before his death, nobody —”
. If you yourself were Jupiter for a few days, I bet he wouldn’t dodge your lightning!
PED. If Jove were Pedantius in my stead, if I did not avenge his injuries with my voice, I’d soon be disarmed. Or if I were king for a while and had a king’s long reach, I would catch that most pestilential bandit and snatch him, swoop down on him, lay him low. Where, where is he? Since I am (as you are aware) an orator, what if I should write some Philippics against this most troublesome citizen, after the example of Cicero and Demosthenes? There is no enemy of the republic but who has declared war on me.
LUD. Then you’d truly assault this man, more so than Jupiter can do. But pray do not rage so inordinately. Those goods were temporary and transitory, and hence (as you yourself are wont to say, preceptor) worthy of scorn.
PED. [To himself.] This boy kills me with my own sword. [Aloud.] It does not grieve me that I am cheated out of my money because I am a man, but because I am learned. To steal these is to throw open a window on every manner of wrongdoing. [Enter Tuscidilla and Lydia on the other side of the stage.]
LUD. But make an end of your complaining, I beg of you. I shall get your wealth back for you. Ahem, these ladies are coming to see you. Has nothing in their faces or expressions moved you?
PED. I see and I fall silent. These are and are not my wealth. Lydia spurns my exceedingly rich love. Nevertheless, to tell the truth, now that I have had a glimpse of her, I am so restored that it seems some god has dosed me with medicine. [To Lydia.] Come, speak, that I may gaze on you.


TUSC. [Loudly enough to be overheard.] It’s as I told you, Lydia. On the one had there is the slave, poverty-stricken in cash and in brains. On the other, there is a wise man, most honorable. Don’t overlook this.
LYD. Indeed, although I often rejected this Pedantius (as all we girls do when we fall in love), I have never really despised him.
LUD. Prick up your ears. Do you hear what they’re saying? She seeks you out. But listen to me. Now you should refuse to grant what she wants. Thus you’ll return tit for tat, and let this vex her.
PED. Wicked boy, don’t you know the lex talionis is condemned by the philosophers? If I still can win her, even if a kingdom were offered me I’d never prefer it.
LYD. But I’m quite afraid lest he has cooled off, as he has suffered so many rejections.
PED. Cooled off? May the gods and goddesses avert this omen. No delaying, Pedantius. After the first, the going will be smooth as a bald man’s head. So far I’m scarcely cooled off, not at all; quite to the contrary, I’m warmer than ever, more and more so.
LYD. [Crossing over to Pedantius.] I think you stand watch here forever, since you are always running into me.
PED. The frequent sight of you is most pleasant. But this spot seems most capacious for action, most decorous for diction, Lydia, and just as a corpse attracts crows, so your fragrance attracts me. I am ventilated by your vision, as by the fan of sedition. Indeed, I would live happily forever in your ken and, if I may say so, in your kisses. “Over sea, over lands, after so many tribulations” I would follow you, even to India (where I would dispute with the Gymnosophists) or to Cathay (the so-called New World). On the journey I’d be your patient companion, and also (if I may put to the test the pardon you have already granted me) in marriage your potent companion. You own me, you own me totally with all my members and membranes. Oh my mellifluous Muse, I give, grant, donate, dedicate, consecrate and offer myself up on the altar of your mercy. So since your impoverished friend is giving you his humble gift, accept it calmly and completely, remembering to praise it.
USC. I swear by my womanly honor (which I have always valued highly), I’ve never heard anything to compare with this.
LYD. You re inexperienced, Tuscidilla, and do not know the Doctors’ wiles.
PED. Inasmuch as I perceive you to fear trickery, allow me to repeat these statements, pitched a little higher. Since I am temporarily at liberty from the chores of Court business and the duties of the Senate, at your summons in particular, either wholly or in greatest part, I have recalled myself to those pursuits which are most full of affection, not to the emptiness of pleasure. You are that tiny fish, my eel, the cause of my delay, who have forced me to heave to when I was hastening to Court, as they say, with sails and oars. For then my love (like the daemon of Socrates) whispered in my ear that someday it would befall that, as drops hollow out a rock, not by their strength, but by falling on it so often, thus I too, not by my merits (I would not dare say that), but by the rains of my importunings, would mollify your morosity. Wherefore I beseech you even now (since the road to good habits is never taken overlate) sing your palinode, grow wise in the end and, as it were, grow gray in old age. I know that everything fair (in which category you fall) is difficult. But nothing is so difficult that cleverness cannot surmount it, and I am (as you perceive) most clever. So love me in turn.
LUD. If you understood how many, how beautiful girls (or rather women) there are at Court who are vying for him, I do not think you would allow such a sweet pill to be wrenched from your jaws. All of them came running from every direction to gape at him, as if he were some parade.
PED. You dare take the stage with Roscius sitting in the audience? Let me relate these things, in which I not only participated but also predominated. When I was at Court, everyone pointed me out as I passed by, whispering “that’s the man” (which never befell any mortal man, Demosthenes excepted). Women of the courtroom were captured by my grace, as fish on by a hook. But in the midst of all those Harpies I protected my honor, keeping it water-tight. I responded to each lady that physical pleasure is bestial. And behold, now I offer this trifling gift, my most limpid Lydia.
USC. May the gods give me a husband similar to this man in all ways!
PED. Your kindness is most welcome to me. And so I thank you, I always shall feel gratitude, and someday I shall repay it (it seems fit for me to make this threefold distinction). But “I do not sleep for all men”: I am grateful to her, but not to you.
LYD. What’s the point in concealing any longer what I cannot hide? My Pedantius, for a long time I have loved you deeply. But to test your faith, I did not dare confess this. Now that I have tried you enough, rejoice, possess me, take me as your own.
PED. Oh the golden stream of your oratory! Assuredly this is a a speech sweeter than honey (as Homer sang of his Nestor). This is a festal day, to be marked by a white stone. I congratulate you, and rejoice for myself. We shall now be conjugated underneath the same conjugal yoke, for the girl Lydia will possess the Lydian Stone (thus the varsity men used to call me because of my very honest standard of judgment). And now I swear to you by your virginity (which I see myself dedicated under several titles) that in many places I shall have no more use for fire, water, air, earth, or heaven than for our amity. Aye, you are now a Vestal Virgin, not because you wear their vestments, but because you cherish and rekindle the most sacred flame of love within my breast.
LYD. Whatever pleases you is most pleasing to me.
PED. Elegantly put, as is all you say. The three Graces sit upon your lips, I think I do not hear the musings of your speech but rather the speaking Muses. Your breath is Drinkable Gold. While I enjoy you, I am in the Elysian fields, Your flesh is a remedy against snakebite, viz. that of my love. In sum (to epitomize everything in a compendium), you are my fully-stuffed cornucopia. And so I shall not say, with Pamphilus in Terence, “let them depart who wish a rift between us” — I say let ’em perish.
USC. I am so overcome with joy that I’m beside myself. Venus and Juno, hasten this marriage!
LUD. And I turn a certain profit from this business. For I hope this little lady will lessen his Lordship’s love of the lash, and diminish our mothers’ complaints about his severity.
LYD. I shall never repudiate this man and prefer that ne’er-do-well Crobolus. Go to the crows, Crobolus!
PED. That would be “to go from horses to donkeys,” as they say. And so, if you love me, you have to hate that stinking swine with a hatred greater than Vatinianus’. With him you’d be a girl of the kitchen, with me a girl of the Court. Choose which you want.
LYD. I choose nobody but you, without whom I would lead a bitter life.
PED. And so, since delay invites danger according to the vulgar saw, finish this quickly. “Delay is always morbid in amour” (and Echo picks up that last word, “more, more, more”).
LYD. A trifling problem remains for us in this matter. For this decrepit old man within, Charondas, will not set me free if he doesn’t get thirty pounds.
PED. Whew! You’ve just murdered a man! Thirty? Untie this knot. Now my mind’s in doubt, a scruple seizes me. But really thirty?
LYD. Thirty, not a shilling less. Do you value your Lydia any cheaper?
PED. No, at more. But I’d rather give it to you than to that decrepit, murderous old skinflint. Thirty. Hm. Where’ll I get it?
LYD. [To herself.] A weighty problem. He doesn’t usually ponder so long. Whatever his plan is, he’ll bring it forth well cooked.
PED. [To the audience.] Men of every quality and quantity, Pedantius now asks you, does anybody today want to buy the most exact Greek and Latin authors of every kind, both the ancients and the neoterics? I have lavishly embellished these for contemplative use by my reading, writing, and annotating, gilding them with marginal notes like jewels or stars, and now I wish to put them to practical use. And no use is more urgent than marriage, which can be accomplished by money, but not by art. A donkey loaded down with gold will conquer even castles, and (to compare great things to small) in order to win her I shall remove all obstacles by means of my money. [To.] My bride, the old man will be given his cash.
LYD. Then I shall give myself to you forever, Pedantius.
LUD. Pray, sweet mistress, allow me to beg this one trifle from you. Since you love my master (clearly masterful and half-divine) so violently, may you in your goodness love me a little too, Pedantius’ appendix and shadow.
PED. Who do I catch sight of, approaching from a distance? I am compelled to break off abruptly. I shall get this money together without delay, my bride. Ludio, tell this man I am not at home. [Goes off.]
LUD. Why is he flying away so quickly? I’ll find out what the matter is. You go indoors, good-bye. [Exit Lydia and Tuscidilla.]


GIL. [Scrutinizing his accounts book.] I cannot find the name I want. So many men are a-languishing in my ledger that I can’t assign each a home. But I won’t every quit until I find the fellow I want. Perhaps I’ll chance to run into somebody here. Cro — Crob — Crobolus, a man I should meet too — that witty lover and clever butcher Crobolus, who looks so fine thanks to my shop. I’ll jack up my prices if he doesn’t pay on the spot. But that wordy, natty, slender, well dressed man (well dressed at my expense), where is he hiding? Pe Pe — Pe (perish the fellow) Pedantius. Now I’ve found him. If I can meet the man, he’ll pay me the penalty immediately. I’ll make him read a bit out of this book, written in the finest letters. How turgid its heavy lines are! Turn the page.
LUD. But without reading your book, I’ll trick you today most memorably, in any way I please.
GIL. And here’s more. ITEM: 3 ELLS AND 4 IN
CHES FINE BLACK CLOTH. ITEM: 3 ELLS, 1 INCH PURE SILK OF THREE-STRAND WEAVE. ITEM: 4 ELLS SATIN. Alas, regarding the satin one a tail must be added to the 2 to turn it into a 3. My text is most hard to solve. But these puzzles are like crocodiles. My book eats up those academics, and reduces ’ em to nothing. For when recently I plied my art at the university, with my single book I was able to refute any number of their academic authors and knock them off their perches.
LUD. As near as I can guess, he’s come here to defeat and carry off our Pedantius’ whole library. But I’ll oppose his wrath, like some rampart or tower standing in his path.
GIL. Of all our debtors, none are as forsworn as these scholars. For, trusting in their tricks, they heed not our arguments, even when supported by authority. Out of our singular affection, and persuaded by our unmitigated mercy, we allow them to come onto our books, our sacred shrine, and thus they take away not only wool cloth of top quality, but also garments of bombazine and satin, damask, smooth silk, velvet silk, and anything else you care to name. They strut about as finely dressed as if they were well-born lawyers of the Temple. But the price is not to be paid, they avoid that with cunning. If we knock on their chamber doors, they sport their oak, they are careful to be abroad, or they refuse us arrogantly. “Who are you? What business have I with you? I am not, I cannot be, I do not care to be at home.” And then, should we catch sight of them, they sneak out by side gates and posterns like so many mice. And if they should meet us on the street unexpectedly, they can’t get out a word, as if they’ve seen a wolf. And now, as I was asking for a debt to be settled, one said to me “What’s the need for all this urgency? I am of the opinion that this requires further pondering. Why press me with all this suspicion? I am no vagabond. You townsmen bite us academics like so many snakes.” But see, very opportunely here’s the little lad who belongs to my debtor.
LUD. Has nobody seen my preceptor going out? I wonder where he’s gone. Someone’s inside hunting for him, a messenger from the king with plenty of coins, gold ones at that. And in searching him I’m certainly going to waste all the juices of this little body of mine in panting and working up a sweat.
GIL. Bah, a real scheme! Coming here I’ve often been swindled by such tricks. Halt in your tracks, boy. I myself know where the man you seek is.
LUD. So pray tell me this instant. You’re tedious with your delaying.
GIL. Turn yourself around, yes, I mean in that direction. He’s in that house.
LUD. Answer my question. For I am aware he lives here. So you are teasing me, whoever you are. Where is he at this moment?
GIL. Don’t you know too, for heaven’s sake? How cleverly he plays the monkey!
LUD. I now for sure that you’re a man, not a tree trunk, nor a rock, dirt, or a beast (save insofar as you’re a townsman), nor indeed a woman (I think), nor a child (except possibly in your habits).
GIL. Here’s a boy who deserves a whipping! Pay closer attention for a moment. Do you really not know?
LUD. Obviously you’re no gypsy, for you aren’t grimy of face. And you are not educated (I am on intimate terms with all of them that are). So tell me who you are.
GIL. Indeed I have an education. Don’t you seek this book? This is a very expensive tome.
LUD. And I have no time to fool with you. Get away.
GIL. Don’t you recollect where you acquired those shoes? I can’t say “where you bought them,” for you haven’t paid for them yet.
LUD. Oh, I think I must have been dreaming awhile. Am I looking at our haberdasher? Hail, greatest and best of our townsmen that is or ever was! In the name of your honesty, wholly unaccustomed to cheating people (creditors and debtors excepted), I beg you cease your joking and tell me seriously, where is my Pedantius?
GIL. [Pointing at the ledger.] Here he is, take a look. He’s sleeping on this page, all sprawled out.
LUD. Let’s wake him up. Ho, preceptor, wake up, arise! The thieves are at us!
GIL. Would that he were here, he’d correct you. Or with good cause I’d give him some correction!
LUD. You correct Cicero? Not bloody likely.
GIL. Stop this childishness. go off and search for your preceptor. Meanwhile I’ll go inside and await him together with that money-bringing messenger.
LUD. Stay here, please, don’t do that. This royal messenger I mentioned has come in secret, nor cares to be seen by anyone. If you please, you go off and search for him. Since I’m worn out I’ll take a rest while you do.
GIL. Now I see I’ll have to return another time. But he’ll not get away this unavenged. The written word endures. I’ll arrange things so that he will regret my efforts and his fraud. [Exit.]
LUD. And since he’s gone away, why don’t I too? [Exit.]

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