Scene I.

Davus alone.

Geta, my worthy friend and countryman, Came to me yesterday: for some time past I've ow'd him some small balance of account: This he desir'd I would make up: I have; And brought it with me: for his master's son, I am inform'd, has lately got a wife: So I suppose this sum is scrap'd together For a bride-gift. Alack, how hard it is That he, who is already poor, should still Throw in his mite to swell the rich man's heap! What he scarce, ounce by ounce, from short allowance, Sorely defrauding his own appetite, Has spar'd, poor wretch! shall she sweep all at once, Unheeding with what labor it was got? Geta, moreover, shall be struck for more; Another gift, when madam's brought to bed; Another too, when master's birthday's kept, And they initiate him. - All this mamma Shall carry off, the bantling her excuse. But is that Geta?