Chapter 1
A WOOD NEAR ANTIOCH.
Enter CYPPRIAN in a Student's gown, followed by CLARIN and MOSCON, as poor Scholars, carrying books.
CYPRIAN. In the pleasant solitude Of this tranquil spot, this thicket Formed of interlacing boughs, Buds, and flowers, and shrubs commingled, You may leave me, leaving also, As my best companions, with me, (For I need none else) those books Which I bad you to bring hither From the house; for while, to-day, Antioch, the mighty city, Celebrates with such rejoicing The great temple newly finished Unto Jupiter, the bearing Thither, also, of his image Publicly, in grant procession, To its shrine to be uplifted;-- I, escaping the confusion Of the streets and squares, have flitted Hitherward, to spend in study What of daylight yet may glimmer. Go, enjoy the festival, Go to Antioch and mingle In its various sports, returning When the sun descending sinketh To be buried in the waves, Which, beneath the dark clouds' fringes, Round the royal corse of gold, Shine like sepulchres of silver. Here you'll find me.
MOSCON. Sir, although Most decidedly my wish is To behold the sports, yet I Cannot go without a whisper Of some few five thousand words, Which I'll give you in a jiffy. Can it be that on a day Of such free, such unrestricted Revelry, and mirth, and fun, You with your old books come hither To this country place, rejecting All the frolic of the city?
CLARIN. Well, I think my master's right; For there's nothing more insipid Than a grand procession day, Half fandangos, priests, and fiddles.
MOSCON. Clarin, from the first to last, All your life you've been a trickster, A smart temporizing toady, A bold flatterer, a trimmer, Since you praise the thoughts of others, And ne'er speak your own.
CLARIN. The civil Way to tell a man he lies Is to say he's wrong:--you twig me, Now I think I speak my mind.
CYPRIAN. Moscon, Clarin, both I bid ye Cease this silly altercation. It is ever thus betwixt ye, Puffed up with your little knowledge Each maintains his own opinion. Go, and (as I've said) here seek me When night falls, and with the thickness Of its shadows veils from view This most fair and wondrous system Of the universe.
MOSCON. How comes it, That although you have admitted 'Tis not right to see the feast, Yet you go to see it?
CLARIN. Simple Is the answer: no one follows The advice which he has given To another.
MOSCON [aside]. To see Livia, Would the gods that I were winged. [Exit.
CLARIN [aside]. If the honest truth were told Livia is the girl that gives me Something worth the living for. Even her very name has in it This assurance: 'Livia', yes, Minus 'a', I live for 'Livi'.* [Exit.
[footnote] *This, of course, is a paraphrase of the original, which, perhaps, may be given as an explanation. "Ilega, 'Livia'. Al 'na', y se, Livia, 'liviana'."
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