ACT IV.
Scene 1.—Charinus—Pamphilus—Davus.
Cha. Oh! is it credible, or to be found,
Or did one ever hear of treachery,
Innate in the black heart, to match with this—
To gloat on ills of others and to reap
From thence advantages? Ah, even so,
There is a race of man so treacherous,
Who first blush to deny you—yet fall off
At the first show of false necessity
Unwilling for a while—then yielding to
Their interests—and straightway launching out
In impudent and insolent discourse—
Who are you? and, what may you be to me?
Or, what are mine to you? I am myself,
My nearest relative; but if you ask,
Oh! where then is good faith? they do not blush.
When there was no occasion, then they blushed;
And now there is occasion they blush not.
What shall I do—shall I go find him out,
Expostulate, and overwhelm with words?
You will reply—what good can come of that?
Much—he is troubled and I am avenged.
Pam. Charinus, I have lost, unwittingly,
Thee and myself, unless the gods assist us.
Cha. How, lost unwittingly? You find a cause
Sufficient, and you break your word.
Pam. What cause sufficient?
