SYRUS. You'd be in love; Possess your mistress; and have wherewithal To make her presents: but to gain all this You'd risk no danger. By my troth, you're wise, If it be wise to wish for what can't be. Take good and bad together; both, or none; Choose which you will; no mistress, or no danger. And yet, the scheme I've laid is fair and safe; Your mistress may be with you at your father's Without detection; by the self-same means I shall procure the sum you've promis'd her, Which you have rung so often in my ears, You've almost deafen'd them.--What would you more? CLIT. If it may be so---- SYRUS. If! the proof shall show. CLIT. Well, well then, what's this scheme? SYRUS. We will pretend That Bacchis is his mistress. CLIT. Mighty fine! What shall become then of his own? Shall she Pass for his too, because one's not enough To answer for? SYRUS. No. She shall to your mother. CLIT. How so? SYRUS. 'Twere tedious, Clitipho, to tell: Let it suffice, I've reason for it. CLIT. Nonsense! I see no ground to make me hazard this. SYRUS. Well; if you dread this, I've another way, Which you shall both own has no danger in't. CLIT. Aye, prithee, find that out. SYRUS. With all my heart. I'll run and meet the woman on the road, And order them to go straight home again. CLIT. How! what! SYRUS. I mean to ease you of your fear, That you may sleep in peace on either side. (_Going._) CLIT. What shall I do? CLIN. E'en profit of his scheme. CLIT. But, Syrus, tell me then---- SYRUS. Away, away! This day too late you'll wish for her in vain. (_Going._) CLIN. This is your time: enjoy it, while you may: Who knows if you may have the like again? CLIT. Syrus, I say. SYRUS. Call as you please, I'll on. CLIT. Clinia, you're right.--Ho, Syrus! Syrus, ho! Syrus, I say. SYRUS. So, he grows hot at last. (_To himself._) What would you, Sir? (_Turning about._) CLIT. Come back, come back! SYRUS. I'm here. (_Returns._) You're pleasure, Sir!--What, will not this content you? CLIT. Yes, Syrus; me, my passion, and my fame I render up to you: dispose of all; But see you're not to blame. SYRUS. Ridiculous! Spare your advice, good Clitipho! you know Success is my concern still more than yours: For if perchance we fail in our attempt, You shall have words; but I, alas! dry blows. Be sure then of my diligence; and beg Your friend to join, and countenance our scheme. CLIN. Depend on me: I see it must be so. CLIT. Thanks, my best Clinia! CLIN. But take heed she trip not. SYRUS. Oh, she's well instructed. CLIT. Still I wonder How you prevail'd so easily upon her: Her, who's so scornful.