Roman Comedy: Plautus and Terence

Foreword

By Ben Potter

Biography of Plautus

By Ben Potter

Biography of Terence

By Ben Potter

A Tale of Two Theatres

By Jocelyn Hitchcock

The Comedies of Plautus

Translated by

Henry Thomas Riley

The Comedies of Terence

Translated by

Henry Thomas Riley & George Colman

Foreword

By

Ben Potter

This month's Classical Wisdom ebook will bring some much-needed light relief via Rome's two champion mirth-makers, the playwrights Plautus (254-184 BC) and Terence (195/185-159 BC).

As our introduction contains biographies of both scribes (as well as Jocelyn Hitchcock's excellent précis of the physical differences between Greek and Roman theatre), we won't dwell too long on the two men themselves, but instead talk briefly about Roman comedy in general, and the plays presented in particular.

First, to Roman comedy. Roman comedy borrowed extensively from Greek New Comedy and relied heavily on stock characters involved in bawdy and ridiculous romances. To give you the chance to identify some of these stock roles when reading through the six plays, we'll spend a bit of time running through the main types:

The adulescens is the hero of most Roman comedies. He's typically a young bachelor who is in love with either the virgo and/or the meretrix. He's typically accompanied in his wooing by a clever slave, the servus, who gets his master out of the hilarious jams in which he finds himself.

The virgo, as the name suggests, is a humble maiden; one who is quite unsuitable for the adulescens to marry due to her low birth... or because the adulescens is too bound up with the meretrix, a prostitute. Often, in the final act, the virgo is revealed not to be of humble birth, but a free-born Roman citizen and therefore suitable to marry our hero.

The senex is a comic old man, usually the father of the adulescens. He is sometimes a miserable old Scrooge or a perverted old Benny Hill type character. He is usually a figure of ridicule who rarely gets a 'win'. He is often hauled from the stage by the enraged matrona, his wife.

The leno is a pimp/slave dealer; probably the character that draws least sympathy from the audience. His motives are almost always avaricious or generally immoral. That said, to modern eyes, the entire play seems pretty immoral, so the leno is definitely the bad guy.

The miles gloriosus is a soldier who is arrogant, egoistical, loud, boastful, and generally vulgar all round. Also, despite talking a big game, he's usually found wanting whenever there's any actual fighting afoot. He is usually accompanied by the parasitus, the parasite. This is a fawning and simpering character who is mostly concerned more about his empty stomach than anything else and will flatter, lie and steal to satisfy his desire.

Though there are other characters that crop up, and not every play features each stock character to the same extent, it can be said that these are the principle ingredients that make up a Roman comedy.

And so, to the plays themselves! Submitted for your approval are six comedies: two from Plautus and four from Terence. Though, of course, you're welcome to digest them how you wish, I'd recommend (especially if this is your first sampling of Roman comedy) to use the excellent footnotes sparingly. Though they contain a wealth of relevant and interesting information about the details of the texts, the characters and the wider context, constantly stopping to read footnotes is the best way to destroy the flow of a play.

If some context is welcome but you wish to maintain fluency, then you might want to take a few minutes to view the below summaries of our six plays.

Plautus

The Captivi (The Prisoners)

Set in Aetolia, in the mountains of Greece, the Captivi deals with an unusually serious subject matter with a surprising amount of sensitivity compared to Plautus' other works. Indeed, Plautus is the first one to bring this to the viewer's attention in his direct address to the audience in the prologue. Indeed, in a society where the brutality of war is commonplace and the cruelty of slavery accepted, if not positively enjoyed, Plautus deals with these two topics with uncommon nuance.

The play's protagonist, Hegio, fits in with the departure from the rumbustious norm of Roman comedy, being far less 'stock' and more complex than other heroes tend to be. But don’t worry! There is still plenty of knockabout comedy to amuse any Roman who has come to the theatre for a laugh, rather than for an educative experience.

The Captivi certainly has its champions, German philosopher Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729-1781) stated that it was the best play ever written!

Mostellaria (The Haunted House)

Taking place in Athens, the Mostellaria is a much more 'classic', straight-forward comedy than the Captivi. The hero, Philolahces, wants to buy a slave girl with whom he has become besotted and so needs to borrow money from a loan-shark to do so.

Theopropides, Philolahces’ father, returns home to Athens unexpectedly right in the middle of one of his son's uproarious parties. In order to hide the party from Theopropides, Tranio, a clever slave, locks all the guests inside the house and tells the father that he cannot enter as it is haunted. At this inopportune moment, the loan-shark turns up demanding repayment. Hilarity ensues!

Terence

Eunuchus (The Eunuch)

Produced in 161 BC, this was Terrence's greatest success as a playwright, both popularly and financially. And it is Athens, yet again, that sets the scene for this comedy of love, confusion, and farce.

The plot centres around Phaedira, an Athenian nobleman, and his love for Thais, a foreign prostitute – she hails from Rhodes which, though also Greek, would have been foreign enough for an Athenian's liking. As the story develops, various subplots and miscellany characters come and go with, usually, quite ignoble intentions. It's easy to understand why this complex and intricate story was performed twice in the same day as, when acted in real time, it would be easy to lose track of who is who and what their motivations are.

Needless to say, hilarity ensues; however, it must be noted that one of the amusing passages is probably a bit too raw and ready for modern tastes, featuring, as it does, a rape. However, if one can make gradations for such things, this terrible crime is dealt with here with slightly more tact and nuance than in our next offering, the Hecyra.

Hecyra (The Mother-in-Law)

Despite its enduring popularity through the ages, the Hecyra was something of a flop when it was first performed in 165 BC. Not only that, it remained a flop when it was next performed, too! In fact, Terence claims, in the prologue of the Phormio, that the reason for this lukewarm reception was a circulating rumour that acrobats were to be part of the ensemble. Whether we believe him or not, the fact is that, despite this difficult infancy, the Hecyra has survived the twisting, turbulent fortunes of the ages. This suggests that, perhaps, there is something within its pages worthy of closer inspection.

Even more than in Eunuchus, rape plays a central role in moving the comic plot of the Hecyra along. It is interesting to speculate on whether this blasé attitude towards one of mankind's greatest sins is because it was not equally shocking to Romans as it is to us, or, more likely, because these plays are set in Greece and therefore such behaviour is to be expected to a partisan, Roman audience. However, whatever the cause, it feels as though there is something lost through the ages in the transfer of humour. Which, in a way, makes the play even more interesting from an historical viewpoint.

Phormio

First performed at the Ludi Romani of 161 BC, Phormio is widely considered to be one of the best comedies to come out of ancient Rome. As is so often the case, we find ourselves in that den of iniquity, Athens. However, with a slight departure from the normal order of things, it is the parasite character who is up front and openly the star of the show, being as he is the eponymous Phormio. But fans of the genre need not fear too much, there is still the tangled web of thwarted or unacceptable love and lots of silly young men doing ridiculous things to try and fulfil their desires; with Phormio standing in the middle… getting rich off them all!

Adelphi (The Brothers)

Terence's last play is, almost universally, considered to be his best. And not only has it gone down in history as his masterpiece, but it must have been a seminal event even at the time, performed, as it was in 160 BC, at the funeral games of Lucius Aemilius Paullus Mecedonius (conqueror of the Antigonid dynasty). Though hard to exactly translate to the modern world, this might have been something like providing the entertainment at the Olympic Games opening ceremony, or the wedding of royal prince.

Though it may seem odd to us that a licentious and lewd comedy would be performed in honour of a dead hero of the state, entertaining the masses in someone's name was one of the highest forms of honour in the Roman world.

The plot itself might be one of the earliest templates for an 'odd couple' comedy. A strict and upright father decides to raise one of his son's himself and lets his freethinking and liberal brother raise the other son. Obviously, an inappropriate romantic alliance plays a major part in the plot, but it is the contrasting natures of the two 'fathers' that give the story its edge, its uniqueness.

If one of these synopses appeals to you more, then why not start with that one and take it from there? Otherwise, just dive right in and gorge yourself on Roman gags, gallivanting, and the occasional grotesque plotline!

Enjoy!

Ben Potter

July 2021

Plautus

By

Ben Potter

It’s often been said that the best things about the Romans came from their cultural forefathers, the Greeks.

Like most generalisations, there are grains of both truth and falsehood to this claim. Whilst there may well be startling similarities between Greek and Roman art, gods, drinking habits, sexual conduct and empire building, these are as nothing compared to the parallels between the two cultures’ comedic theatre.

In this respect, the man we turn to in order to sample our very first taste of Roman literature is the playwright Plautus. As classicist P.G. McC. Brown put it:

“Latin literature begins with a bang, with a dazzling display of virtuoso verbal fireworks in twenty comedies written by Plautus between about 205 and 184 BC”.

And the fact that he borrowed a plot or two (or 130 according to some sources) does nothing to diminish Plautus’ status as the first and, many say, best exponent of Roman Comedy. But before we dive head-first into those literary waters, a quick biographical note (such as posterity enables us to provide).

Plautus hailed from Sarsina in Umbria, near modern day San Marino, and his journey to theatrical greatness is an unusually cyclical one. The story goes that the young Plautus was originally some sort of stage-hand or set designer whose artistic curiosity eventually encouraged him to try his hand at acting. After what must have been a moderate success, he’d saved enough money to abandon this disreputable pursuit (actors were not well thought of in Roman society) and invested everything in a maritime business.

As great as he was with quill and parchment, Plautus was no entrepreneur. He lost his entire fortune and was reduced to working as a mill-hand by day and studying Greek comedy by night.

While this life of relative poverty and menial employment would suggest Plautus did not have a privileged upbringing, the very fact that he was extremely literate in both Latin and Greek means that this is no rags-to-riches story. To prove this point further, he was very knowledgeable of both nations’ politics and history, well-versed in poetry, and extensively well-read. Indeed, Plautus’ studious attentions to the Greek practitioners of his art meant his knowledge bordered on the comprehensive, rather than merely the extensive.

Interestingly, his playwright of choice was not the master of Old Comedy, Aristophanes, but a figure who dominated New (Greek) Comedy, Menander (342-290 BC).

Menander’s brand of humour was much less fierce and acerbic than that of Aristophanes. While it was obvious, he did engage in political satire and playful bawdiness, he never quite touched the subversive or perversive extremes that Aristophanes regularly reached. He also liked to pepper his works with easily digestible, homespun maxims which must have made him one of the more easily quotable artists of the age. These examples give us a flavour:

“Evil communications corrupt good manners”

“Whom the gods love die young”

“The property of friends is common”

Perhaps it was for this reason that Plautus chose Menander as his main influence rather than Aristophanes. Or maybe it was because Menander was closer in time than the Old Greek Comic… or perhaps, simply and banally, because Plautus liked Menander better!

Whatever the reason, the great Greek (and his contemporaries) had more than a little ‘influence’ on the Latin scribe.

Not that plot pilfering was either looked down upon or kept a secret. In fact, in several of Plautus’ prologues he openly provides the original Greek title and author of the plays he has translated. While this was not always the case, we can safely assume that his intentions were not deceitful in this respect.

So blatant was this that, originally, it had been assumed by many that Plautus was much more a linguist than a true poet. But in 1968, the discovery of Menander’s original play, Dis Exapaton (The Double Deceiver), shed light on Plautus’ methods. It was from this script that his Bacchides (the Bacchis Sisters) was adapted.

Though the broad plot and sequencing are much the same, Plautus cuts a couple of scenes, changes the order of others and tweaks the stage directions here and there.

He also adds and cuts jokes as he sees fit, inserts or enhances puns (his favoured method of comic delivery) and changes the characters’ names. This was about all that was required of Plautus in terms of characterisation, as both New Greek Comedy and Roman Comedy almost entirely relied on stock characters, e.g. the love-struck young man, his miserly father, the wily, manipulative slave, and the appetitive parasite to name but a few.

N.B. Renaissance Commedia dell'Arte, the Italian comic theatre that had a great influence on Shakespeare, had similar stock characters.

One thing Plautus did not do, surprisingly in our eyes, is change the setting of the play from Athens to Rome.

While the Greek setting of Plautus’ plays is fascinatingly paradoxical for us, it would have been seen as mundane to the average Roman. This is because Plautus didn’t actually write ‘comedies’, he wrote fabulae palliatae (dramas in a Greek cloak).

This framework allowed for much artistic and comedic license on the part of the writer, as Roman in-jokes could be used in an abstract setting for comic effect. Indeed, the fact that ‘going Greek’ was a stock phrase to denote debauchery and excess tells its own story. A modern parallel could be something like Blazing Saddles or Robin Hood: Men in Tights; these movies tell us more about contemporary America than their respective historical periods.

Similarly, Plautus’ work is full of risqué and compromising situations, along with slapstick and a penchant for randomly inserting a musical number. However, as a poet and an artist, Plautus clearly had a lot more to offer than the impressively endless gag-reel for which he is famed.

His loftier side shines through in his cantica. These highly stylised and impressive arias seem almost capriciously inserted (often early in a play) and presumably serve the dual purpose of captivating the audience’s attention and showing off the true skill of the writer. This obviously had the desired effect, as Plautus’ contemporary legacy was an impressive one; his plays were still being performed in Rome up until the time of Horace (65-8 BC).

He was also popular in Renaissance Italy, especially after 1429 when 12 of his plays, presumed lost forever, were unearthed in Germany. That said, his stock plummeted dramatically from the 17th century onwards. It would not be hard to imagine how this came about in England because he was... well, replaced. It was during this period that Shakespeare did to Plautus what Plautus had previously done to Menander.

In the end, there is no better summary of Plautus the comedian than that given to him as an epitaph. Unlike many a great man, he was fortunate enough to have his immortal legacy suitably reflect the scope and splendour of his art:

Postquam est mortem aptus Plautus, Comoedia luget,

Scaena est deserta, dein Risus, Ludus locusque

Et Numeri innumeri simul omnes conlacrimarunt

“Plautus is dead, and on the empty stage

Sad comedy doth lie

Weeping the brightest star of all our age

While artless Melody

And Jest and Mirth and Merriment forlorn

Their poet mourn”

Terence

By

Ben Potter

Plautus adapted Attic comedy and presented it to the Roman masses, and many say that Publius Terentius Afer, better known simply as Terence, followed him down the same path; however, if indeed he did, then he left a good many of his own footprints along the way. Indeed, despite their shared penchant for pilfering... sorry 'adapting'... Greek comedy, there is much that is dissimilar about the two men; not least their origin, trials and tribulations.

For instance, Plautus was a well-educated Italian, though he did have his fair share of mishaps and setbacks. Terence, meanwhile, is able to boast a story that is not merely rags, but restraints-to-riches. He does not quite have the claim of being the first slave to become a successful writer (that gong goes to Aesop), but he may have been the first African to make headway in the field. However, this is little more than a calculated assumption from the fact that his cognomen, Afer, means ‘the African’.

Suetonius, writing some 200 years after the fact, confirms that Terence was born in Carthage. However, such as distance in time means he cannot be viewed as a wholly reliable source, even though we have no reason to doubt his sincerity. Other speculations consider that he could have been Libyan rather than Carthaginian, as the term Afri would not have been used to denote a Carthaginian at this time. Less popular are the suggestions that he hailed from one of the towns of Magna Grecia, the Greek colonies of Southern Italy and Sicily. This idea, as well as being considerably less romantic, does nothing to account for the ‘Afer’. Regardless, it is universally accepted that he was brought to Rome in the thrall of the senator Terentius Lucanus, thus accounting for his nomen, ‘Terence’.

Terentius Lucanus ensured Terence received an education, a surprisingly common deed in those days. However, the senator also performed a very atypical act; he granted freedom to Terence, even though he was seen as a valuable piece of property. This was even more exceptional when considering that he was still relatively young. (Freedom was more often granted after a lifetime of loyal service, or upon the master’s death). It was most probably granted here because Terentius was impressed by the young man’s artistic talents and he didn’t want to stand in the way of a potentially glittering career. And glittering, though brief, it indeed was.

Brief because he died at sea on his way to Greece, either at the tender age of 35, or the positively raw age of 25! And glittering because Terence is in an elite group of ancient writers who have their entire canon preserved, intact.

The fact that this opus consists of only six plays does not detract from the fact that his work demands considerable respect. And it appears respect was precisely what Terrance was hoping to achieve… we know this because of his innovative use of the prologue.

Unlike Plautus and his Greek forebears, Terence didn’t do anything as crass and vulgar as give essential contextual information. Indeed, he was a staunch believer in letting the audience work things out for themselves:

“Do not expect the plot of the Play; the old men who come first will disclose it in part; a part in the representation they will make known”

So, what was the purpose of a prologue, if not to “lay our scene”? Why, to rebuke one’s critics of course:

“He [Terence] is wasting his labor in writing Prologues, not for the purpose of relating the plot, but to answer the slanders of a malevolent old Poet”.

Terence certainly had a unique approach to the prologue, a trait that differentiates him from Plautus; one, in fact, of many. Another was Terence’s conversational and realistic dialogue. It is thought that he may have been the man to create the dramatic use of the ellipsis, those little dots that nicely hint at a missing word, such as…

Indeed, his characters are far less prone to wallow in cunning punning or absolutely arbitrary amounts of alliteration than those found in Plautus. This, together with the fact that he was loath to break the fourth wall, has led to Terence being dubbed ‘the father of Sitcom’! However, if his works were to be considered sitcoms, then they could only be HBO ones; no G-rating for this Roman!

While his choice of subject matter is one of the most interesting things about Terence, there are moments when he skirts the boundary of what is now, and perhaps was then, good taste. The Hecyra, for example, shows a newly-minted marriage thrown into jeopardy when it turns out the bride is pregnant as the result of a rape she suffered before the wedding. But all turns out for the best in the end when it materializes that, unbeknownst to all, the groom was the rapist all along!

Of course, it is difficult to gauge just how much tastes have changed. It is possible that the plot line was tolerated mainly because the play was set in Greece, a supposedly decadent foreign land in which rape was taken with a pinch of salt. That said, Terence does deal with the topic with greater sensitivity in Eunuchus. There are also times when he focuses on the dynamics of the father/son relationship, generating a good deal more empathy than in some of his other tales.

Even though it seems his plays were enjoyed by the masses, Terrence was not rightly appreciated as an artist until after his death; and appreciated just how! Within 100 years of his premature demise, Terence had become a set text for all Roman schoolboys.

His place on the curriculum was retained throughout European schoolrooms until the nineteenth century, as he was regarded as the perfect conduit through which to study Latin. In fact, the Catholic church may have done its fair share to keep Terence’s works alive, as it was a necessity to learn Latin for mass and bible study. His plays were often chosen because they were popular and approachable texts… and perhaps a bit more entertaining than endless psalms.

Though, curiously, Terence’s most quoted line...

“homo sum, humani nil a me alienum puto” – “I am a man, I regard all that concerns men as concerning me”

….has been misappropriated as a piece of sagacious philosophy. In fact, it was originally put into the mouth of a nosy neighbour looking to justify his own snooping!

Nevertheless, the view of Terence as a fine and noble scholar, one worthy of our attentive consideration, is espoused by that fine man of letters, President John Adams. It is to him that we shall give the last word as to why Terence was, is, and always will be of interest to those with classical or literary interests:

“Terence is remarkable, for good morals, good taste, and good Latin…His language has simplicity and an elegance that make him proper to be accurately studied as a model”.

A Tale of Two Theatres

By

Jocelyn Hitchcock

Greek and Roman theaters regularly rank among the most popular archaeological sites to visit. Their sheer size and state of preservation make it easy for visitors to gauge the scale of events in antiquity and to feel as if they can travel back in time; an experience that doesn’t always occur when trekking crumbling ruins. But while Greek and Roman theaters are often lumped together in common vernacular, there are actually meaningful differences that distinguish their origins and cultures.

The most basic elements of both Greek and Roman theaters are shared: semicircular, raised seating, a chorus, and incredible acoustics. The early Greek theaters were made of wood, built into the hillside, and had a beaten earth stage as the focal point. The oldest example of an ancient Greek theater is the Theater of Dionysus Eleuthereus, located on the south slope of the Acropolis in Athens and dating to the 6th century BCE. The seats were built into the natural slope of the hill, taking advantage of the elevated viewing opportunity. Originally made all out of wood, the 5th century renovations saw a rectangular stage with corresponding wings added and stone seats in the front row only. By the 4th century BCE, all the seats were transformed from wooden planks into stone benches and acquired a backdrop of stone and semi-columns.

The evolution of the Theater of Dionysus exemplifies the transformations of other Greek theaters in antiquity, representing the typical architectural form embodied throughout. The theaters of Epidaurus, Delphi, and Pergamon all remain in great condition and demonstrate the social demand for these monumental arenas.

Centuries later, Roman theaters took the architectural form of Greek theaters and tweaked it, refined it, and altered it just enough to fit their own socio-political tastes. Perhaps the biggest visual difference is that Roman theaters were usually free-standing, which means that they were not constructed into a hillside.

Roman theaters also built the backdrop (or the scaenae frons) to at least two stories and joined it with the seating. They installed awnings that could be extended, enclosing the whole theater in a style of which we are familiar with today. Other modifications included the complete paving and/or marbling of the performance area, the orchestra, and the seats. They added monumental statues, columns, and reliefs to the stage to make it even more impressive to the viewers.

As to be expected, the type of performances held in both Greek and Roman theaters were quite similar. Comedy and tragedy dominated, and theaters housed drama competitions and festivals to be carried out throughout the year. Masks, costumes, props, songs, and music all made up the show, with actors communicating with the audience directly or indirectly.

Scholarship since the 1960’s has worked hard to reconstruct dramatic performances, prompting questions about the function of the built-in backdrop, stage decor, and what exactly was left up to the viewers to imagine themselves.

With few exceptions, Greek tragedies and comedies were performed by up to three actors, with some doubling up characters when need be. They used masks, which have been interpreted as “semiotic agents,” taking on a life of their own and possessing the typified personality, character, and attributes. As such, stock characters were immediately recognizable, but it was up to the play and performance to dictate the acute personality of the character.

Apart from the actors, Greek dramas made ample use of the chorus, much to the confusion of modern scholars. The chorus is distinct from the stage action spatially, as they stand on the circular orchestra in front of the rectangular stage. They sing directly to the audience or other characters, but often as a removed viewer of the activity.

Roman dramas, while originally taking themes from Greek topics and myths, eventually began to adopt their own themes with Etruscan and Latin origins. Choruses in Roman tragedies were incorporated into on-stage action, an aspect that differed from Roman comedy. Roman comedies were either Greek adaptations or entirely Roman in a Roman setting. Male actors would have likely performed all roles in Roman theater, like in Greek theater, but there is some evidence that women may have been minimally involved.

Overall, the comparison between Greek and Roman theater speaks to the desire for ‘more’ evolving in the respective societies: more genres, more topics, more characters, and more elaborate furnishings. Greek theaters, that were once comparatively humble, evolved into Roman theaters seating some 20,000 patrons viewing drama festivals and competitions with playwrights from around the Roman Empire.

The Comedies of Plautus

Translated by

Henry Thomas Riley

THE CAPTIVI

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

HEGIO, an Aetolian, father of Philopolemus.

PHILOCRATES, an Elean, captive in Aetolia.

TYNDARUS, his servant.

ARISTOPHONTES, an Elean, captive in Aetolia.

PHILOPOLEMUS, an Aetolian, captive in Elis.

ERGASILUS, a Parasite.

STALAGAMUS, the servant of Hegio.

A SLAVE of Hegio.

A LAD, the same.

Scene.—A place in Aetolia.

THE ACROSTIC ARGUMENT {1}.

{Supposed to have been written by Priseian the Grammarian.} One son of Hegio has been made prisoner (Captus) in battle. A runaway slave has sold the other (Alium) when four years old. The father (Pater) traffics in Elean captives, only (Tantum) desirous that he may recover his son, and (Et) among these he buys his son that was formerly lost. He (Is), his clothes and his name changed with his master, causes that (Ut) he is lost to Hegio; and he himself is punished. And (Et) he brings back the captive and the runaway together, through whose information (Indicio) he discovers his other.

{Footnote 1: In this Acrostic it will be found that the old form of "Capteivei" is preserved.}

THE PROLOGUE.

These two captives (pointing to PHILOCRATES and TYNDARUS), whom you see standing here, are standing here because—they are both {1} standing, and are not sitting. That I am saying this truly, you are my witnesses. The old man, who lives here (pointing to HEGIO's house), is Hegio—his father (pointing to TYNDARUS). But under what circumstances he is the slave of his own father, that I will here explain to you, if you give attention. This old man had two sons; a slave stole one child when four years old, and flying hence, he sold him in Elis {2}, to the father of this captive (pointing to PHILOCRATES). Now, do you understand this? Very good. I' faith, that man at a distance {3} there (pointing) says, no. Come nearer then. If there isn't room for you to sit down, there is for you to walk; since you'd be compelling an actor to bawl like a beggar {4}. I'm not going to burst myself for your sake, so don't you be mistaken. You who are enabled by your means to pay your taxes {5}, listen to the rest {6}; I care not to be in debt to another. This runaway slave, as I said before, sold his young master, whom, when he fled, he had carried off, to this one's father. He, after he bought him, gave him as his own private slave {7} to this son of his, because they were of about the same age. He is now the slave at home of his own father, nor does his father know it. Verily, the Gods do treat us men just like footballs {8}. You hear the manner now how he lost one son. Afterwards, the Aetolians {9} are waging war with the people of Elis, and, as happens in warfare, the other son is taken prisoner. The physician Menarchus buys him there in Elis. On this, this Hegio begins to traffic in Elean captives, if, perchance, he may be able to find one to change for that captive son of his. He knows not that this one who is in his house is his own son. And as he heard yesterday that an Elean knight of very high rank and very high family was taken prisoner, he has spared no expense to rescue his son {10}. In order that he may more easily bring him back home, he buys both of these of the Quaestors {11} out of the spoil.

Now they, between themselves, have contrived this plan, that, by means of it, the servant may send away hence his master home. And therefore, among themselves they change their garments and their names. He, there (pointing), is called Philocrates; this one (pointing), Tyndarus; he this day assumes the character of this one, this one of him. And this one to-day will cleverly carry out this plot, and cause his master to gain his liberty; and by the same means he will save his own brother, and without knowing it, will cause him to return back a free man to his own country to his father, just as often now, on many occasions, a person has done more good unknowingly than knowingly. But unconsciously, by their devices, they have so planned and devised their plot, and have so contrived it by their design, that this one is living in servitude with his own father. And thus now, in ignorance, he is the slave of his own father. What poor creatures are men, when I reflect upon it! This plot will be performed by us—a play for your entertainment. But there is, besides, a thing which, in a few words, I would wish to inform you of. Really, it will be worth your while to give your attention to this play. 'Tis not composed in the hackneyed style, nor yet like other plays, nor are there in it any ribald lines {12} unfit for utterance: here is neither the perjured procurer, nor the artful courtesan, nor yet the braggart captain. Don't you be afraid because I've said that there's war between the Aetoliains and the Eleans. There (pointing), at a distance, beyond the scenes, the battles will be fought. For this were almost impossible for a Comic establishment{13}, that we should at a moment attempt to be acting Tragedy. If, therefore, any one is looking for a battle, let him commence the quarrel; if he shall find an adversary more powerful, I'll cause him to be the spectator of a battle that isn't pleasant to him, so that hereafter he shall hate to be a spectator of them all. I now retire. Fare ye well, at home, most upright judges, and in warfare most valiant combatants.

{Footnote 1: Because—they are both)—Ver. 2. This is apparently intended as a piece of humour, in catching or baulking the audience. He begins as though he was going to explain why the captives are standing there, and ends his explanation with saying that they are standing because they are not sitting. A similar truism is uttered by Pamphila, in the Stichus, l. 120.}

{Footnote 2: In Elis)—Ver. 9. Elis, or, as it is called by Plautus, "Alis," was a city of Achaia, in the north-western part of the Peloponnesus. Near it the Olympic games were celebrated.}

{Footnote 3: That man at a distance)—Ver. 11. One of the audience, probably a plebeian who has no seat, but is standing in a remote part of the theatre, is supposed to exclaim in a rude manner that he cannot hear what the actor says. On this the speaker tells him that he had better come nearer; and if he cannot find a seat, there is room for him to walk away. Possibly the verb "ambulo" may be intended to signify in this case either "to walk" or "to stand," in contradistinction to sitting. Rost, with some reason, suggests "abscedito" "walk out," in place of "accedito," "come nearer."}

{Footnote 4: To bawl like a beggar)—Ver. 13. Commentators have differed as to the meaning of this passage. Some think that he means that with the view of pleasing the plebeian part of the audience, he shall not bawl out like a beggar asking alms; while others suppose that the meaning is, that he will not run the risk of cracking his voice, after which he will be hissed off the stage, and so be reduced to beggary.}

{Footnote 5: To pay your taxes)—Ver. 15. By this he shows that the party whom he is addressing, is either one of the lowest plebeians or a slave. In the assessment or census, which was made by the Censors, the slaves were not numbered at all, being supposed to have no "caput," or "civil condition." The lowest century were the "proletarii," whose only qualification was the being heads of families, or fathers of children. In addressing those who are reckoned in the census "ope vestra," "by your means" or "circumstances," he seems to be rebuking the "proletarii," who had no such standing, and who probably formed the most noisy part of the audience. As these paid no part of the taxes with which the theatres were in part supported, of course they would be placed at a greater distance from the stage, and probably were not accommodated with seats. It was just about this period that the elder Scipio assigned different places in the theatres to the various classes of the people.}

{Footnote 6: Listen to the rest)—Ver. 16. "Reliquum" was a term which either signified generally, "what is left," or money borrowed and still unpaid. He plays upon these different meanings—"Accipite reliquum," which may either signify "hear the rest" or "take what is due and owing," and he then makes the observation, parenthetically, "alieno uti nil moror," "I don't care to be in debt."}

{Footnote 7: His own private slave)—Ver. 20. "Peculiaris" means "for his own private use," or "attached to his person;" being considered as though bought with his son's "peculium," or out of his own private purse. The "peculium" was the sum of money which a son in his minority was allowed by his father to be in possession of. The word also signified the savings of the slave.}

{Footnote 8: Just like footballs)—Ver. 22. "Pilas." Among the ancients, games with the "pila" were those played with the "pila trigonalis," so called, probably, from the players standing in a triangle, and those with the "follis," which was a larger ball, inflated with air and struck with the hands, or used for a football. "Paganica" was a similar ball, but harder, being stuffed with feathers, and was used by the country-people. "Harpastum" was a small ball used by the Greeks, which was scrambled for as soon as it came to the ground, whence it received its name. The Greeks had a proverb similar to this expression, {Greek: Theon paignia anthropoi}, "men are the playthings of the Gods." So Plato called mankind {Greek: Theon athurmata}, "the sport of the Gods."}

{Footnote 9: The Aetolians)—Ver. 24. Aetolia was a country of Greece, the southern portion of which was bounded by the Corinthian Gulf; it was opposite to the Elean territory, from which it was divided by the gulf.}

{Footnote 10: To rescue his son)—Ver. 32. "Filio dum parceret." Literally, "so long as he might spare his son."}

{Footnote 11: Of the Quaestors)—Ver. 34. In speaking of these officers, Plautus, as usual, introduces Roman customs into a Play the scene of which is in Greece. It has been previously remarked that the Quaestors had the selling of the spoils taken in war}

{Footnote 12: Any ribald lines)—Ver. 56. See the address of the Company of actors to the Spectators at the end of the Play.}

{Footnote 13: A Comic establishment)—Ver. 61. "Comico choragio." Literally, "for the choragium of Comedy." The "choragium" was the dress and furniture, or "properties" for the stage, supplied by the "choragus." or keeper of the theatrical wardrobe.}

ACT I.—SCENE I.

Enter ERGASILUS.

ERG. The young men have given me the name of "the mistress," for this reason, because invocated {1} I am wont to attend at the banquet. I know that buffoons {2} say that this is absurdly said, but I affirm that it is rightly said. For at the banquet the lover, when he throws the dice, invokes his mistress.{3} Is she then invocated, or is she not? She is, most clearly. But, i' faith, we Parasites with better reason are so called, whom no person ever either invites or invokes, and who, like mice, are always eating the victuals of another person. When business is laid aside {4}, when people repair to the country, at that same moment is business laid aside for our teeth. Just as, when it is hot weather, snails lie hidden in secret, and live upon their own juices, if the dew doesn't fall; so, when business is laid aside, do Parasites lie hidden in retirement, and miserably live upon their own juices, while in the country the persons are rusticating whom they sponge upon. When business is laid aside, we Parasites are greyhounds; when business recommences, like mastiffs {5}, we are annoying-like and very troublesome-like {6}.

And here, indeed, unless, i'faith, any Parasite is able to endure cuffs with the fist, and pots to be broken {7} about his head, why he may e'en go with his wallet outside the Trigeminian Gate {8}. That this may prove my lot, there is some danger. For since my patron {9} has fallen into the hands of the enemy—(such warfare are the Aetolians now waging with the Eleans; for this is Aetolia; this Philopolemus has been made captive in Elis, the son of this old man Hegio who lives here (pointing to the house)—a house which to me is a house of woe, and which so oft as I look upon, I weep). Now, for the sake of his son, has he commenced this dishonorable traffic, very much against his own inclination. He buys up men that have been made captives, if perchance he may be able to find some one for whom to gain his son in exchange. An object which I really do much desire that he may gain, for unless he finds him, there's nowhere for me to find myself. I have no hopes in the young men; they are all too fond of themselves. He, in fine, is a youth with the old-fashioned manners, whose countenance I never rendered cheerful without a return. His father is worthily matched, as endowed with like manners. Now I'll go to him;—but his door is opening, the door from which full oft I've sallied forth drunk with excess of cheer (He stands aside.)

{Footnote 1: Because invocated)—Ver. 70. "Invocatus." The following Note is extracted from Thornton's Translation of this Play:— "The reader's indulgence for the coinage of a new term (and perhaps not quite so much out of character from the mouth of a Parasite) is here requested in the use of the word 'invocated' in a sense, which it is owned, there is no authority for, but without it no way occurs to explain the poet's meaning—which, such as it is, and involved in such a pun, is all that can be aimed at. The word 'invocatus' means both 'called upon' and 'not called upon.' Ergasilus here quibbles upon it; for, though at entertainments be attends, as it is the common character of Parasites to do, without invitation, that is 'not called upon;' and as mistresses are 'called upon' that their names so invoked may make their lovers throw the dice with success; still, according to the double sense of the word, they may be compared to each other, as they are both, according to the Latin idiom, 'invocati.'"}

{Footnote 2: That buffoons)—Ver. 71. "Derisores," "buffoons." By this word he means that particular class of Parasites who earned their dinners by their repartees and bon-mots.}

{Footnote 3: Invokes his mistress)—Ver. 73. It was the Grecian custom, when they threw dice at an entertainment, for the thrower to call his mistress by name, which invocation was considered to bring good luck.}

{Footnote 4: When business is laid aside)—Ver. 78. "Ubi res prolatae sunt." Meaning thereby "in vacation-time." In the heat of summer the courts of justice were closed, and the more wealthy portion of the Romans retired into the country or to the seaside. Cicero mentions this vacation as "rerum proliatio." The allusion in the previous line is probably derived from a saying of the Cynic Diogenes: when he saw mice creeping under the table, he used to say, "See the Parasites of Diogenes."}

{Footnote 5: Like mastiffs)—Ver. 86. "Molossici." Literally, "dogs of Molossus," a country of Epirus.}

{Footnote 6: Annoying-like and very troublesome-like)—Ver. 87. "Odiosici—incommodestici." These are two extravagant forms of the words "odiosi" and "incommodi," coined by the author for the occasion.}

{Footnote 7: Pots to be broken)—Ver. 89. By Meursius we are informed that these practical jokes were played upon the unfortunate Parasites with pots filled with cinders, which were sometimes scattered over their clothes, to the great amusement of their fellow-guests.}

{Footnote 8: The Trigeminian Gate)—Ver. 90. The Ostian Gate was so called because the Horatii left the city by that gate to fight the Curiatii. The brothers being born at one birth were "trigemini," whence the gate received its name. The beggars with their wallets were seated there. See the Trinummus, 1.423, and the Note to the passage.}

{Footnote 9: Since my patron)—Ver. 92. Rex; literally, "king." The Parasites were in the habit of so calling their entertainers.}

SCENE II.—Enter, from his house, HEGIO and a SLAVE.

HEG. Now, give attention you, if you please. Those two captives whom I purchased yesterday of the Quaestors out of the spoil, put upon them chains of light weight {1}; take of those greater ones with which they are bound. Permit them to walk, if they wish, out of doors, or if in-doors, but so that they are watched with the greatest care. A captive at liberty is like a bird that's wild; if opportunity is once given for escaping, 'tis enough; after that, you can never catch him.

SLAVE. Doubtless we all are free men more willingly than we live the life of slaves.

HEG. You, indeed, don't seem to think so {2}.

SLAVE. If I have nothing to give, should you like me to give myself to flight {3}?

HEG. If you do so give yourself, I shall at once have something to be giving to you.

SLAVE. I'll make myself just like the wild bird you were telling of.

HEG. 'Tis just as you say; for if you do so, I'll be giving you to the cage {4} But enough of prating; take you care of what I've ordered, and be off. (The SLAVE goes into the house.) I'll away to my brother's, to my other captives; I'll go see whether they've been making any disturbance last night. From there I shall forthwith betake myself home again.

ERG. (apart). It grieves me that this unhappy old man is following the trade of a slave-dealer, by reason of the misfortune of his son. But, if by any means he can be brought back here, I could even endure for him to become an executioner.

HEG. (overhearing him). Who is it that's speaking?

ERG. 'Tis I, who am pining at your affliction, growing thin, waxing old, and shockingly wasting away. Wretched man that I am, I'm but skin and bone through leanness; nor does anything ever do me good that I eat at home; even that ever so little which I taste out of doors, the same refreshes me.

HEG. Ergasilus, save you! ERG. (crying). May the Gods kindly bless you, Hegio!

HEG. Don't weep. ERG. Must I not weep for him? Must I not weep for such a young man?

HEG. I've always known you to be a friend to my son, and I have understood him to be so to you.

ERG. Then at last do we men know our blessings, when we have lost those things which we once had in our power. I, since your son fell into the power of the enemy, knowing by experience of what value he was, now feel his loss.

HEG. Since you, who are no relation, bear his misfortune so much amiss, what is it likely that I, a father, should do, whose only son he is?

ERG. I, no relation to him? He, no relation to me? Oh, Hegio! never do say that, nor come to such a belief. To you he is an only child, but to me he is even more only than an only one.

HEG. I commend you, in that you consider the affliction of your friend your own affliction. Now be of good heart.

ERG. (crying). O dear! HEG. (half-aside). 'Tis this afflicts him, that the army for guttling is now disbanded. Meanwhile, have you found no one to command for you the army that you mentioned as disbanded?

ERG. What do you think? All to whom it used to fall are in the habit of declining that province since your son Philopolemus was taken prisoner.

HEG. I' faith, 'tisn't to be wondered at, that they are in the habit of declining that province. You have necessity for numerous troops, and those of numerous kinds. Well, first you have need of the Bakerians {5}. Of these Bakerians there are several kinds. You have need of Roll-makerians, you hare need too of Confectionerians, you have need of Poultererians, you have need of Beccaficorians; besides all the maritime forces are necessary for you.

ERG. How the greatest geniuses do frequently lie concealed! How great a general now is this private individual!

HEG. Only have good courage; for I trust that in a few days I shall bring him back home. For see now; there's a captive here, a young man of Elis, born of a very high family, and of very great wealth; I trust that it will come to pass that I shall get my son in exchange for him.

ERG. May the Gods and Goddesses grant it so!

HEG. But are you invited out anywhere to dinner?

ERG. Nowhere that I know of. But, pray, why do you ask me?

HEG. Because this is my birthday; for that reason I'd like you to be invited to dinner at my house.

ERG. 'Tis kindly said. HEG. But if you can be content to eat a very little—

ERG. Aye, even ever so little; for on such fare as that do, I enjoy myself every day at home.

HEG. Come, then, please, set yourself up for sale.

ERG. I'll put myself up for purchase, just like a landed estate, unless any one shall privately make a better offer that pleases myself and my friends more, and to my own conditions will I bind myself.

HEG. You are surely selling me a bottomless pit {6}, and not a landed estate. But if you are coming, do so in time.

ERG. Why, for that matter. I'm at leisure even now.

HEG. Go then, and hunt for a hare; at present, in me you have but a ferret {7}, for my fare is in the way of frequenting a rugged road.

ERG. You'll never repulse me by that, Hegio, so don't attempt it. I'll come, in spite of it, with teeth well shod.

HEG. Really, my viands are but of a rough sort {8}. ERG. Are you in the habit of eating brambles?

HEG. Mine is an earthy dinner. ERG. A pig is an earthy animal.

HEG. Earthy from its plenty of vegetables.

ERG. Treat your sick people {9} at home with that fare? Do you wish anything else?

HEG. Come in good time. ERG. You are putting in mind one who remembers quite well. (Exit.

HEG. I'll go in-doors, and in the house I'll make the calculation how little money I have at my banker's; afterwards I'll go to my brother's, whither I was saying I would go. (Goes into his house.)

{Footnote 1: Chains of light weight)—Ver. 112. "Singularias" This word may admit of three interpretations, and it is impossible to decide which is the right one. It may mean chains weighting a single "libra," or pound; it may signify chains for the captives singly, in contradistiniction to those by which they were fastened to each other; or it may mean single chains, in opposition to double ones. In the Acts of the Apostles, ch. 12, v. 6, we read that St. Peter was bound with two chains; and in ch. 13, v. 33, the chief captain orders St. Paul to be bound with two chains.}

{Footnote 2: Don't seem to think so)—Ver. 120. Hegio means to say that the slave does not seem to think liberty so very desirable, or he would try more to please his master and do his duty, which might probably be the right method for gaining his liberty. As the slave could generally ransom himself out of his "peculium," or "savings," if they were sufficient, the slave here either thinks, or pretends to think, that Hegio is censuring him for not taking those means, and answer, accordingly, that he has nothing to offer}

{Footnote 3: Give myself to flight)—Ver. 121. "Dem in pedes." Literally, "give myself to my feet," meaning thereby "to run away." He puns upon this meaning of "dare," and its common signification of "to give" or "to offer to give."}

{Footnote 4: Giving you to the cage)—Ver. 124. "In cavears." He plays on the word "cavea," which meaning "a cage" for a bird, might also mean confinement for a prisoner.}

{Footnote 5: The Bakerians)—Ver. 162. This and the following appellations are expressive both of the several trades that contributed to furnishing entertainments, and, in the Latin, also denoted the names of inhabitants of several places in Italy or elsewhere. As this meaning could not be expressed in a literal translation of them, the original words are here subjoined. In the word "Pistorienses," he alludes to the bakers, and the natives of Pistorium, a town of Etruria; in the "Panicei," to the bread or roll bakers, and the natives of Pana, a little town of the Samnites, mentioned by Strabo; in the "Placentini," to the "confectioners" or "cake-makers," and the people of Placentia, a city in the North of Italy; in the "Turdetani," to the "poulterers" or "sellers of thrushes," and the people of Turdentania, a district of Spain; and in the "Fiendulae," to the "sellers of beccaficos," a delicate bird, and the inhabitants of Ficculae, a town near Rome. Of course, these appellations, as relating to the trades, are only comical words coined for the occasion.}

{Footnote 6: A bottomless pit)—Ver. 183. He plays upon the resemblance in sound of the word "fundum," "landed property," to "profundum," "a deep cavity," to which he compares the Parasite's stomach. "You sell me landed property, indeed; say rather a bottomless pit."}

{Footnote 7: Have but a ferret)—Ver. 185. This passage has much puzzled the Commentators; but allowing for some very far-fetched wit, which is not uncommon with Plautus, it may admit of some explanation. He tells the Parasite that he had better look for a nicer dinner, a hare, in fact; for that in dining with him, he will only get the ferret (with which the hare was hunted) for his dinner. Then, inasmuch as the ferret was and for following the bare or rabbit into "scruposae viae," "impervious" or "rocky places" where they had burrowed, he adds: "For my dinner, ferret-like, frequents ragged places;" by which he probably means that it is nothing but a meagre repast of vegetables, of which possibly capers formed a part, which grow plentifully in Italy, in old ruins and craggy spots. Some suggest that it was a custom with the huntsmen, if they failed to catch the hurt, to kill and eat the ferret.}

{Footnote 8: Are but of a rough sort)—Ver. 189. The word "asper" means either "unsavoury" or "prickly," according to the context. Hegio means to use it in the former sense, but the Parasite, for the sake of repartee, chooses to take it in the latter.}

{Footnote 9: Treat your sick people)—Ver. 191. He means that such a dinner may suit sick people, but will not be to his taste.}

ACT II.—SCENE I.

Enter, from the house, PHILOCRATES, TYNDARUS, and SLAVES and CAPTIVES of HEGIO.

SLAVE. If the immortal Gods have so willed it that you should undergo this affliction, it becomes you to endure it with equanimity; if you do so, your trouble will be lighter {1}. At home you were free men, I suppose; now if slavery has befallen you, 'tis a becoming way for you to put up with it, and by your dispositions to render it light, under a master's rule. Unworthy actions which a master does must be deemed Worthy ones.

PHIL. and TYND. Alas! alas! alas! SLAVE. There's no need for wailing; you cause much injury to your eyes. In adversity, if you use fortitude of mind, it is of service.

PHIL. and TYND. But we are ashamed, because we are in bonds.

SLAVE. But in the result it might cause vexation to our master, if he were to release you from chains, or allow you to be loose, whom he has purchased with his money.

PHIL. and TYND. What does he fear from us? We know our duty, what it is, if he allows us to be loose.

SLAVE. Why, you are meditating escape. I know what it is you are devising.

PHIL. and TYND. We, make our escape? Whither should we escape?

SLAVE. To your own country. PHIL. and TYND. Out upon you; it would ill befit us to be following the example of runaways.

SLAVE. Why, faith, should there be an opportunity, I don't advise you not.

PHIL. and TYND. Do you allow us to make one request.

SLAVE. What is it, pray? PHIL. and TYND. That you will give us an opportunity of conversing, without these and yourselves for overlookers.

SLAVE. Be it so; go you away from here, you people. Let's step here, on one side. (To the other CAPTIVES and SLAVES.) But commence upon a short conversation only.

PHIL. O yes, it was my intention so to do. Step aside this way (to TYNDARUS).

SLAVE (to the other CAPTIVES). Stand apart from them.

TYND. (to the SLAVE). "We are Both greatly obliged to you, by reason of your doing so, since you allow us to obtain what we are desirous of.

PHIL. Step here then, at a distance now, if you think fit, that no listeners may be enabled to overhear our discourse, and that this plan of ours mayn't be divulged before them for a stratagem is no stratagem, if you don't plan it with art but it is a very great misfortune if it becomes disclosed. For if you are my master, and I represent myself as your servant, still there's need of foresight, and need of caution, that this may be carried out discreetly and without overlookers, with carefulness and with cautious prudence and diligence. So great is the matter that has been commenced upon; this must not be carried out in any drowsy fashion.

TYND. Just as you shall desire me to be, I will be.

PHIL. I trust so. TYND. For now you see that for your precious life I'm setting at stake my own, as dear to me.

PHIL. I know it. TYND. But remember to know it when you shall be enjoying that which you wish for; for mostly, the greatest part of mankind follow this fashion; what they wish for, until they obtain it, they are rightminded; but when they have now got it in their power, from being rightminded they become most deceitful, and most dishonest; now I do consider that you are towards me as I wish. What I advise you, I would advise my own father.

PHIL. I' faith, if I could venture, I would call you father; for next to my own father, you are my nearest father.

TYND. I understand. PHIL. And therefore I remind you the more frequently, that you may remember it. I am not your master, but your servant; now this one thing I do beseech you. Inasmuch as the immortal Gods hare disclosed to us their wishes, that they desire me to have once been your master, and now to be your fellow-captive; what formerly of my right I used to command you, now with entreaties do I beg of you, by our uncertain fortunes, and by the kindness of my father towards you, and by our common captivity, which has befallen us by the hand of the enemy, don't you pay me any greater respect than I did you when you were my slave; and don't you forget to remember who you were, and who you now are.

TYND. I know, indeed, that I now am you, and that you are I.

PHIL. Well, if you are able carefully to remember that, I have some hope in this scheme of ours.

{Footnote 1: Will be lighter)—Ver. 197. The English proverb corresponds with this: What can't be cured must be endured.}

SCENE II.—Enter HEGIO, from his house, speaking to those within.

HEG. I shall return in-doors just now, when I shall have discovered from these people what I want to know. (To the SLAVES.) Where are those persons whom I ordered to be brought out of doors here, before the house?

PHIL. By my faith, I find that you have taken due precaution that we shouldn't be missed by you, so walled in are we with chains and keepers.

HEG. He that takes precaution that he mayn't be deceived, is hardly on his guard, even while he's taking precaution; even when he has supposed that he has taken every precaution, full often is this wary man outwitted. Was there not good reason, indeed, for me to watch you carefully, whom I purchased with so large a sum of ready money?

PHIL. Troth, it isn't fair for us to hold you to blame, because you watch us closely; nor yet for you us, if we go away hence, should there be an opportunity.

HEG. As you are here, so is my son a captive there among your people.

PHIL. He, a captive?

HEG. Even so.

PHIL. We, then, have not proved the only cowards {1}.

HEG. (to PHILOCRATES, supposing him to be the SERVANT of the other). Step you aside this way, for there are some things that I wish to enquire of you in private, on which subjects I would have you not to be untruthful to me. (They step aside.)

PHIL. I will not be, as to that which I shall know; if I shall not know anything, that which I don't know I'll tell you of.

TYND. (aside). Now is the old fellow in the barber's shop; now, at this very instant, is Philocrates wielding the razor {2}. He hasn't cared, indeed, to put on the barber's cloth {3}, so as not to soil his dress. But whether to say that he's going to share him close, or trim him {4} through the comb {5}, I don't know; but if he's wise, he'll scrape him right well to the very quick.

HEG. (to PHILOCRATES). Which would you? Would you prefer to be a slave, or a free man?—Tell me.

PHIL. That which is the nearest to good, and the furthest off from evil, do I prefer; although my servitude hasn't proved very grievous to me, nor has it been otherwise to me than if I had been a son in the family.

TYND. (aside). Capital! I wouldn't purchase, at a talent's price even, Thales the Milesian {6}; for compared with this man's wisdom, he was a very twaddler. How cleverly has he suited his language to the slave's condition.

HEG. Of what family is this Philocrates born?

PHIL. The Polyplusian {7}; which one family is flourishing there, and held in highest esteem.

HEG. What is he himself? In what esteem is he held there?

PHIL. In the highest, and that by the very highest men.

HEG. Since, then, he is held in such great respect among the Eleans, as you tell of, what substance has he?—Of large amount?

PHIL. Enough for him, even, when an old man, to be melting out the tallow {8}

HEG. What is his father? Is he living? PHIL, When we departed thence, we left him alive; whether he's living now or not, Orcus, forsooth, must know that.

TYND. (aside). The matter's all right; he's not only lying, but he's even philosophizing now.

HEG. What's his name? PHIL. Thesaurochrysonicocroesides {9}.

HEG. That name has been given, I suppose, by reason of his wealth, as it were.

PHIL. Troth, not so, but rather by reason of his avarice and grasping disposition; for, indeed, he was Theodoromedes originally by name.

HEG. How say you? Is his father covetous?

PHIL. Aye, by my faith, he is covetous. Why, that you may even understand it the better,—when he's sacrificing at any time to his own Genius {10}, the vessels that are needed for the sacrifice he uses of Samian ware, lest the Genius himself should steal them; from this, consider how much he would trust other people.

HEG. (addressing TYNDARUS as though PHILOCRATES). Do you then follow me this way. (Aside.) The things that I desire to know, I'll enquire of him. (Addressing TYNDARUS.) Philocrates, this person has done as it becomes an honest man to do. For from him I've learnt of what family you are sprang; he has confessed it to me. If you are willing to own these same things (which, however, understand that I already know from him), you will be doing it for your own advantage.

TYND. He did his duty when he confessed the truth to you, although, Hegio, I wished carefully to conceal both my rank and my wealth; now, inasmuch as I've lost my country and my liberty, I don't think it right for him to be dreading me rather than you. The might of warfare has made my fortunes on a level with himself. I remember the time when he didn't dare to do it in word; now, in deed, he is at liberty to offend me. But don't you see? Human fortune moulds and fashions just, as she wills. Myself, who was a free man she has made a slave, from the very highest the very lowest. I, who was accustomed to command, now obey the mandates of another. And indeed, if I meet with a master just such as I proved the ruler in my own household, I shall not fear that he will rule me harshly or severely. With this, Hegio, I wished you to be acquainted, unless perchance you yourself wish it not.

HEG. Speak boldly out. TYND. As free a man was I till lately as your son. As much did a hostile hand deprive me of my liberty as him of his. As much is he a slave among my people, as am now a slave here with yourself. There is undoubtedly a God, who both hears and sees the things which we do. Just as you shall treat me here, in the same degree will he have a care for him. To the well-deserving will he show favour, to the ill-deserving will he give a like return. As much as you lament your son, so much does my father lament me.

HEG. That I am aware of. But do you admit the same that he has disclosed to me?

TYND. I confess that my father has very great wealth at home, and that I am born of a very noble family; but I entreat you, Hegio, let not my riches make your mind too prone to avarice, lest it should seem to my father, although I am his only son, more suitable that I should be a slave in your house, bountifully supplied at your expense and with your clothing, rather than be living the life of a beggar where 'twould be far from honorable.

HEG. By the favour of the Gods and of my forefathers, I am rich enough. I don't quite believe that every kind of gain is serviceable to mankind. I know that gain has already made many a man famous; and yet there are occasions when it is undoubtedly better to incur loss than to make gain. Gold I detest: many a one has it persuaded to many an evil course. Now give your attention to this, that you may know as well what my wishes are. My son, taken prisoner, is in servitude at Elis there among your people; if you restore him to me, don't you give me a single coin besides; both you and him, your servant, I'll send back from here; on no other terms can you depart hence.

TYND. You ask what's very right and very just, and you are the very kindest person of all mankind. But whether is he in servitude to a private person or to the public {11}?

HEG. In private servitude to Menarchus, a physician.

PHIL. By my faith, that person's surely his father's dependant. Why really, that's down as pat for you, as the shower is when it rains.

HEG. Do you then cause this person, my son, to be redeemed.

TYND. I'll do so: but this I beg of you, Hegio—

HEG. Whatever you wish, so that you request nothing against my interest, I'll do.

TYND. Listen then, and you'll know. I don't ask for myself to be released, until he has returned. But I beg of you to give me him (pointing to PHILOCRATES) with a price set {12} upon him, that I may send him to my father, that this person, your son, may be redeemed there.

HEG. Why no; I'd rather send another person hence, when there shall be a truce, to confer with your father there, and to carry your injunctions which you shall entrust him with, just as you wish.

TYND. But it's of no use to send to him one that he doesn't know; you'd be losing your labour. Send this person; he'll have it all completed, if he gets there. And you cannot send any person to him more faithful, nor one in whom he places more confidence, nor who is more a servant after his own mind; nor, in fact, one to whom he would more readily entrust your son. Have no fears; at my own peril I'll make proof of his fidelity, relying upon his disposition; because he is sensible that I'm kindly disposed towards him.

HEG. Well then, I'll send him with a price set upon him, on the surety of your promise, if you wish it.

TYND. I do wish it; so soon as ever it can, I want this matter to be brought to completion.

HEG. What reason is there, then, that if he doesn't return, you should not pay me twenty minae for him?

TYND. Yes—very good. HEG. (to the SLAVES, who obey). Release him now forthwith; and, indeed, both of them. (On being released, PHILOCRATES goes into the house.)

TYND. May all the Gods grant you all your desires, since you have deigned me honor so great, and since you release me from my chains. Really, this is not so irksome now, since my neck is free from the collar-chain.

HEG. The kindnesses that are done to the good, thanks for the same are pregnant with blessings. Now, if you are about to send him thither, direct, instruct him, give him the orders which you wish to be carried to your father. Should you like me to call him to you?

TYND. Do call him. (HEGIO goes to the door, and calls PHILOCRATES.)

{Footnote 1: The only cowards)—Ver. 267. He alludes to the notion in the heroic times, that it was the duty of a warrior to conquer or to die, and that it was disgraceful to be made prisoner.}

{Footnote 2: Wielding the razor)—Ver. 271. It is hard to say whether by the word "cuttros," in this passage, razors or scissors are meant.}

{Footnote 3: To put on the barber's cloth)—Ver. 272. He probably means by this expression that Philocrates has made no preamble, and shown no hesitation, in commencing at once to dupe the old man.}

{Footnote 4: Or trim him)—Ver. 273. He alludes here to the two kinds of shaving and trimming the beard used by the barbers among the ancients. The one was close "strictim," when they shaved to the skin; the other was, when with a pair of scissors they clipped the hair, with the interposition of a comb. The former fashion was called by the Greeks {Greek: skaphion}; the latter method, which was borrowed from the Persians, {Greek: kaepos}. "Esse in tonstrina," "to be in the barber's shop," was a proverbial expression to denote "being imposed upon." Tyndarus is wondering to what extent Philocrates is going to impose upon Hegio.}

{Footnote 5: Through the comb)—Ver. 273. The Greeks and Romans made their combs of boxwood, much of which was imported from Paphlagonia. The Egyptians used them made of wood and of ivory, and toothed on one side only; while those of the Greeks had teeth on both sides.}

{Footnote 6: Thales the Milesian)—Ver. 279. A talent would be a low price for such a learned slave as Thales the Milesian, who was one of the seven wise men of Greece. He says, however, that Thales at such a low price would be nothing in comparison with Philocrates for the same money.}

{Footnote 7: The Polyplusian)—Ver. 282. This word is coined by Philocrates for the occasion, as being the name of his family, from the Greek word {Greek: polyplousios}, "very wealthy;" probably with the idea of raising the expectations of Hegio and making him the more ready to promote an exchange of his own son for a member of so opulent a family.}

{Footnote 8: Melting out the tallow)—Ver. 286. Hegio asks him if his riches are very abundant, and in doing so uses the word "opimae," of which the primary meaning was "fat;" the other answers, "Yes, so fat that he can be melting the tallow out of them even when he is an old man;" meaning thereby that he is amply provided with means.}.

{Footnote 9: Thesaurochrysonicocraesides)—Ver. 290. This is a name made up of several Greek words, and seems to mean "a son of Croesus, abounding in treasures of gold," in allusion to Croesus, the wealthy king of Lydia. The author indulges in similar pleasantry in the Miles Gloriosus.}

{Footnote 10: To his own Genius)—Ver. 295. As the Genius of a man was not only his guardian Deity through life, but the word was also used to signify his capacity for enjoyment; the term "to sacrifice to his Genius," is supposed by some Commentators to mean, "to indulge the appetite in feasting and good cheer." This, however, seems not to be the meaning in this instance; and he probably intends to be understood as alluding, literally, to the domestic sacrifice to the Genius.}

{Footnote 11: Or to the public)—Ver. 339. Some captives were employed in the public service, while others fell into the hands of private individuals.}

{Footnote 12: With a price set)—Ver. 845. "Aestimatus" here means "entrusted to a person at a fixed value, and at his risk for the due return of it."}

SCENE III.—Enter PHILOCRATES, from the house.

HEG. May this affair turn out happily for myself and for my son, and for yourselves. (To PHILOCRATES.) Your new master wishes you to pay faithful obedience to your former owner in what he wishes. For I have presented you to him, with the price of twenty minae set upon you: and he says that he is desirous to send you away hence to his father, that he may there redeem my son, and that an exchange may be made between me and him for our respective sons.

PHIL. My disposition takes its course straight in either direction, both to yourself and to him; as a wheel {1} you may make use of me; either this way or that can I be turned, whichever way you shall command me.

HEG. You yourself profit the most from your own disposition, when you endure slavery just as it ought to be endured. Follow me. (To TYNDARUS.) See here's your man.

TYND. I return you thanks, since you give me this opportunity and permission to send this messenger to my parents, who may relate all the matter in its order to my father, what I'm doing here, and what I wish to be done. (To PHILOCRATES.) Now, Tyndarus, thus is it arranged between myself and him, that I'm to send you, valued at a fixed price, to my father in Elis; so that, if you don't return hither, I'm to give twenty minae for you.

PHIL. I think that you've come to a right understanding. For your father expects either myself or some messenger to come from here to him.

TYND. I wish you, then, to mind what message it is I want you to carry hence to my country to my father.

PHIL. Philocrates, as up to this moment I have done, I will take all due care to endeavour that which may especially conduce to your interest, and to pursue the same with heart and soul, and with my ears.

TYND. You act just as you ought to act; now I wish you to give attention. In the first place of all, carry my respects to my mother and my father, and to my relations, and if any one else you see well-disposed towards me: say that I am in health here, and that I am a slave, in servitude to this most worthy man, who has ever honored me more and more with his respect, and does so still.

PHIL. Don't you be instructing me as to that; I can, still, easily bear that in mind.

TYND. For, indeed, except that I have a keeper, I deem myself to be a free man. Tell my father on what terms I have agreed with this party about his son.

PHIL. What I remember, it is sheer delay to be putting me in mind of.

TYND. To redeem me, and to send him back here in exchange for both of us.

PHIL. I'll remember it. HEG. But as soon as he can that is especially to the interest of us both.

PHIL. You are not more anxious to see your son, than he is to see his.

HEG. My son is dear to myself, and his own to every man.

PHIL. (to TYNDARUS). Do you wish any other message to be carried to your father?

TYND. Say that I am well here; and do you boldly tell him, Tyndarus, that we have been of dispositions for uninterrupted harmony between ourselves, and that you have neither been deserving of censure, nor that I have proved your enemy; and that still, amid miseries so great, you have shown implicit obedience to your master, and that you have never abandoned me, either in deed or in fidelity, amid my wavering, unprosperous fortunes. When my father shall know this, Tyndarus, how well-disposed you have proved towards his son and himself, he will never be so avaricious but that he'll give you your liberty for nothing. And by my own endeavours, if I return hence, I'll make him do so the more readily. For by your aid and kindness, and good disposition and prudence, you have caused me to be allowed to return to my parents once again, inasmuch as to Hegio you have confessed both my rank and my wealth; by means of which, through your wisdom, you have liberated your master from his chains.

PHIL. The things which you mention I have done, and I am pleased that you remember this. Deservedly have they been done for you by me; for now, Philocrates, if I, too, were to mention the things that you have kindly done for me, the night would cut short the day. For, had you been my slave even, no otherwise were you always obliging to me.

HEG. Ye Gods, by our trust in you! behold the kindly disposition of these persons! How they draw the very tears from me! See how cordially they love each other, and with what praises the servant has commended his master.

PHIL. I' troth, he hasn't commended me the one hundredth part of what he himself deserves to be commended in my praises.

HEG. (to PHILOCRATES). Since, then, you have acted most becomingly, now there's an opportunity to add to your good in managing this matter with fidelity towards him.

PHIL. I am not able more to wish it done, than by my endeavours to try to bring it about. That you may know this, Hegio, with praises do I call supreme Jove to witness that I will not prove unfaithful to Philocrates {2}—

HEG. You are a worthy fellow. PHIL. And that I will never in anything act otherwise towards him than towards my own self.

TYND. I wish you to put these speeches to the test, both by your deeds and your actions; and inasmuch as I have said the less about you than I had wished, I wish you the more to give me your attention, and take you care not to be angry with me by reason of these words. But, I beseech you, reflect that you are sent hence home with a price set upon you at my risk, and that my life is here left as a pledge for you. Do not you forget me the very moment that you have left my presence, since you will have left me here behind a captive in captivity for yourself, and don't consider yourself as free, and forsake your pledge {3}, and not use your endeavours for you to bring his son home again, in return for me. Understand that you are sent hence valued at twenty minae. Take care to prove scrupulously faithful; take care that you show not a wavering fidelity. For my father, I am sure, will do everything that he ought to do. Preserve me as a constant friend to you, and find out {4} this person so lately discovered. These things, by your right hand, holding you with my own right hand, do I beg of you; do not prove less true to me than I have proved to you. This matter do you attend to; you are now my master, you my patron, you my father; to you do I commend my hopes and my fortunes.

PHIL. You have given injunctions enough. Are you satisfied if I bring back accomplished what you have enjoined?

TYND. Satisfied. PHIL. (to HEGIO). According to your wishes, and (to TYNDARUS) according to yours, will I return, hither provided. Is there anything else?

TYND. For you to return bad as soon as ever you can.

PHIL. The business itself reminds me of that.

HEG. (to PHILOCRATES). Follow me, that I may give you your expenses for the journey at my banker's; on the same occasion I'll get a passport from the Praetor.

TYND. What passport {5}? HEG. For him to take with him hence to the army, that he may be allowed to go home from here. (To TYNDARUS.) You go in-doors.

TYND. Speed you well. PHIL. Right heartily, farewell. (TYNDARUS goes into the house.)

HEG. (aside). I' faith, I compassed my design, when I purchased these men of the Quaestors out of the spoil. I have released my son from slavery, if so it pleases the Gods; and yet I hesitated a long time whether I should purchase or should not purchase these persons. Watch that man indoors, if you please, you servants, that he may nowhere move a foot without a guard. I shall soon make my appearance at home; now I'm going to my brother's, to see my other captives; at the same time I'll enquire whether any one knows this young man. (To PHILOCRATES.) Do you follow, that I may despatch you. I wish attention first to be paid to that matter. (Exeunt.

{Footnote 1: As a wheel)—Ver. 374. This may either mean the wheel of a vehicle or a potter's wheel. The wheels used by the ancients revolved on the axle, as in the carriages of modern times, and were prevented, by pins inserted, from falling off. They consisted of naves, spokes, which varied much in number, the felly, or wooden circumference, made of elastic wood, such as the poplar and wild fig, and composed of several segments united, and the tire, which was of metal. Some of their carts and waggons had wheels made of a solid circle of wood, in shape like a millstone, with the axle running through the middle. Similar wheels are used in the south of Europe at the present day.}

{Footnote 2: Unfaithful to Philocrates)—Ver. 432. Philocrates might very safely take an oath to Hegio, that he would not prove unfaithful to himself.}

{Footnote 3: Forsake your pledge)—Ver. 441. Alluding to himself being left behind, and a surety for his speedy return.}

{Footnote 4: And find out)—Ver. 446. "Atque hunc inventum inveni." Some would render this, "And find this person still as you have found him," making it allude to Hegio; it seems, however, rather to apply to the son of Hegio, and to mean, "Do you seek out this person whom we have found out to be in the possession of the physician, Menarchus."}

{Footnote 5: What passport?)—Ver. 454. Being conscious of the trick which they are playing on the worthy old man, Tyndarus shows some alarm on hearing a passport, or "syngraphus," mentioned. Commentators are at a loss to know why he should express such alarm. It is difficult to say, but, probably, as there was in the passport a description of the bearer, who would be Philocrates under the name of Tyndarus, it suddenly comes to the recollection of Tyndarus that they were originally made prisoners under their proper names, and that possibly Philocrates may be recognised as attempting to pass under an assumed name.}

ACT III.—SCENE I.

Enter ERGASILUS.

ERG. Wretched is that man who is in search of something to eat, and finds that with difficulty; but more wretched is he who both seeks with difficulty, and finds nothing at all; most wretched is he, who, when he desires to eat, has not that which he may eat. But, by my faith, if I only could, I'd willingly tear out the eyes of this day;—with such enmity has it filled all people towards me. One more starved out I never did see, nor one more filled with hunger {1}, nor one who prospers less in whatever he begins to do. So much do my stomach and my throat take rest on these fasting holidays {2}. Away with the profession of a Parasite to very utter and extreme perdition! so much in these days do the young men drive away from them the needy drolls. They care nothing now-a-days for these Laconian men {3} of the lowest benches—these whipping-posts, who hare their clever sayings without provision and without money. They now-a-days seek those who, when they've eaten at their pleasure, may give them a return at their own houses. They go themselves to market, which formerly was the province of the Parasites. They go themselves from the Forum to the procurers with face as exposed{4} as the magistrates in court {5}, with face exposed, condemn those who are found guilty; nor do they now value buffoons at one farthing {6}; all are so much in love with themselves. For, when, just now, I went away from here, I came to some young men in the Forum: "Good morrow," said I; "whither are we going together to breakfast?" On this, they were silent. "Who says, 'here, at my house,' or who makes an offer?" said I. Just like dumb men, they were silent, and didn't smile at me. "Where do we dine?" said I. On this they declined, said one funny saying out of my best bon mots, by which I formerly used to get feasting for a month; not an individual smiled; at once I knew that the matter was arranged by concert. Not even one was willing to imitate a dog when provoked; if they didn't laugh, they might, at least, have grinned with their teeth {7}. From them I went away, after I saw that I was thus made sport of. I went to some others; then to some others I came; then to some others—the same the result. All treat the matter in confederacy, just like the oil-merchants in the Velabrum {8}. Now, I've returned thence, since I see myself made sport of there. In like manner do other Parasites walk to and fro, to no purpose, in the Forum. Now, after the foreign fashion {9}, I'm determined to enforce all my rights. Those who have entered into a confederacy, by which to deprive us of food and life,—for them I'll name a day. I'll demand, as the damages, that they shall give me ten dinners at my own option, when provisions are dear: thus will I do. Now I'll go hence to the harbour. There, is my only hope of a dinner; if that shall fail me, I'll return here to the old gentleman, to his unsavoury dinner.

{Footnote 1: Filled with hunger)—Ver. 471. This paradoxical expression is similar to the one used in the Aulularia, 1. 45, "inaniis oppletae," "filled with emptiness."}

{Footnote 2: Fasting holidays)—Ver. 473. He means to say, that as on feast days and holidays people abstain from work, so at present his teeth and stomach have no employment.}

{Footnote 3: These Laconian men)—Ver. 476. The Parasites, when there was not room for them on the "triclinia," or "couches" at table, were forced to sit on "subsellia," or "benches," at the bottom of the table. This was like the custom of the Spartans, or Laconians, who, eschewing the luxury of reclining, always persisted in sitting at meals. The Spartans, also, endured pain with the greatest firmness; a virtue much required by Parasites, in order to put up with the indignities which they had to endure from the guests, who daubed their faces, broke pots about their heads, and boxed their ears.}

{Footnote 4: With face as exposed)—Ver. 480. People, with any sense of decency, would resort to these places either in masks, or with a hood thrown over the face.}

{Footnote 5: In court)—Ver. 481. "In tribu." He alludes to the trials which took place before the Roman people in the "Comitia Tributa," or "assemblies of the tribes," where the Tribunes and Aediles acted as the accusers. The offences for which persons were summoned before the tribes, were, bad conduct of a magistrate in performance of his duties, neglect of duty, mismanagement of a war, embezzlement of the public money, breaches of the peace, usury, adultery, and some other crimes. The "Comitia Tributa" were used as courts of appeal, when a person protested against a fine imposed by a magistrate.}

{Footnote 6: At one farthing)—Ver. 482. Literally, "at a teruncius," which was a small coin among the Romans, containing three "unciae," "twelfth parts" or one quarter of the "as," which we generally take as equivalent to a penny.}

{Footnote 7: Grinned with their teeth)—Ver. 491. That is, by showing their teeth and grinning. This is not unlike the expression used in the Psalms (according to the translation in our Liturgy)—Ps. lix., ver. 6—"They grin like a dog and run about through the city."}

{Footnote 8: In the Velabrum)—Ver. 494. The "Via Nova," or "New Street," at Rome, led from the interior of the city to the "Velabra." The greater and the less "Velabrum" lay between the Palatine and the Capitoline Hills, where fruits and other commodities were sold in booths, or under awnings, from which ("vela") the streets probably derived their name. Varro, however, says that they were so called from the verb "veho," "to carry;" because in early times those spots were traversed in boats, which mode of carriage was called "velatura." From the present passage, it appears that the oil-merchants in the "Velabra" acted in confederacy not to sell their oils under a certain price.}

{Footnote 9: After the foreign fashion)—Ver. 497. Some suppose that "barbarica lege" here means "the foreign" or "Roman law," and that he refers to the "Lex Vinnia," introduced at Rome by Quintus Vinnius, which was said to have been passed against those persons who confederated for the purpose of keeping up the high prices of provisions. It is, however, somewhat doubtful if there really was such a law; and the better opinion seems to be that the word "lege" meant "fashion" or "custom;" and that he refers to the Roman method of trial. He will accuse his former entertainers of a conspiracy to starve him. He will name a day for trial, "diem dicet;" he will demand damages or a penalty, "irrogabit muletam;" and thus will he proceed at law against them, "sic egerit." Rost has written at great length on the meaning of this passage.}

SCENE II.—Enter HEGIO and ARISTOPHONTES.

HEG. (to himself). What is there more delightful than to manage one's own interests well for the public good {1}, just as I did yesterday, when I purchased these men. Every person, as they see me, comes to meet me, and congratulates me on this matter. By thus stopping and detaining unlucky me, they've made me quite tired. With much ado have I survived {2} from being congratulated, to my misfortune. At last, to the Praetor did I get. There, scarcely did I rest myself. I asked for a passport; it was given me: at once I delivered it to Tyndarus. He started for home. Thence, straightway, after that was done, I passed by my house; and I went at once to my brother's, where my other captives are. I asked about Philocrates from Elis, whether any one of them all knew the person. This man (pointing to ARISTOPHONTES) called out that he had been his intimate friend; I told him that he was at my house. At once he besought and entreated me that I would permit him to see him. Forthwith I ordered him to be released from chains. Thence have I come. (To ARISTOPHONTES.) Now, do you follow me, that you may obtain what you have besought of me, the opportunity of meeting with this person. (They go into the house.)

{Footnote 1: For the public good)—Ver. 504. It is possible that he may here refer to his purchase of Philocrates, whose high position among the Eleans would probably tend, on his return to his native country, to promote peace between it and the people of Aetoiia.}

{Footnote 2: With much ado have I survived)—Ver. 513. "Vox—eminebam." Literally, "I hardly kept myself above" water. He means that he was almost overpowered by the crowds of people congratulating him.}

SCENE III.—Enter TYNDARUS, from the house.

TYND. Now stands the matter so, that I would much rather that I had once existed, than that I still exist; now do my hopes, my resources, and my succour, desert me and spurn themselves. This is that day, when, for my life, no safety can be hoped; nor yet is death my end; nor hope is there, in fact, to dispel this fear for me; nor cloak have I anywhere for my deceitful stratagems; nor for my devices or my subterfuges is there anywhere a screen presented to me. No deprecating is there for my perfidy; no means of flight for my offences. No refuge is there anywhere for my trusting; and no escape for my cunning schemes. What was concealed is now exposed; my plans are now divulged. The whole matter is now laid open; nor is there any ado about this matter, but that I must perish outright, and meet with destruction, both on behalf of my master and myself. This Aristophontes has proved my ruin, who has just now come into the house. He knows me. He is the intimate friend and kinsman of Philocrates. Not Salvation herself {1} can save me now, even if she wishes; nor have I any means of escape, unless, perchance, I devise some artifice in my mind. (He meditates.) Plague on it!—how? What can I contrive?—what can I think of? Some very great folly and trifling I shall have to begin with. I'm quite at a loss. (He retires aside.)

{Footnote 1: Not Salvation herself)—Ver. 535. This was a proverbial expression among the Romans. "Salus," "Safety" or "Salvation," was worshipped as a Goddess at Rome. It is well observed, in Thornton's translation, that the word "Salus" may, without irreverence, be translated "Salvation," on no less authority than that of Archbishop Tillotson. "If," says he, "men will continue in their sins, the redemption brought by Christ will be of no advantage to them; such as obstinately persist in an impenitent course," "ipsa si velit Salus, servare non potest." "Salvation itself cannot save them."}

SCENE IV.—Enter HEGIO, ARISTOPHONTES, and SLAVES, from the house.

HEG. Whither am I to say, now, that that man has betaken himself from the house out of doors?

TYND. (apart). Now, for a very certainty, I'm done for; the enemies are coming to you, Tyndarus! What shall I say?—what shall I talk of? What shall I deny, or what confess? All matters are reduced to uncertainty. How shall I place confidence in my resources? I wish the Gods had destroyed you, before you were lost to your own country, Aristophontes, who, from a plot well concerted, are making it disconcerted. This plan is ruined, outright, unless I find out for myself some extremely bold device.

HEG. (to ARISTOPHONTES). Follow me. See, there is the man; go to him and address him.

TYND. (aside, and turning away). What mortal among mortals is there more wretched than myself?

ARIST. (coming up to him). Why's this, that I'm to say that you are avoiding my gaze, Tyndarus? And why that you are slighting me as a stranger, as though you had never known me? Why, I'm as much a slave as yourself; although at home I was a free man, you, even from your childhood, have always served in slavery in Elia.

HEG. I' faith, I'm very little surprised, if either he does avoid your gaze, or if he does shun you, who are calling him Tyndarus, instead of Philocrates.

TYND. Hegio, this person was accounted a madman in Elis. Don't you give ear to what he prates about; for at home he has pursued his father and mother with spears, and that malady sometimes comes upon him which is spit out {1}. Do you this instant stand away at a distance from him.

HEG. (to the SLAVES). Away with him further off from me.

ARIST. Do you say, you whipp'd knave, that I am mad, and do you declare that I have followed my own father with spears? And that I have that malady, that it's necessary for me to be spit upon {2}?

HEG. Don't be dismayed; that malady afflicts many a person to whom it has proved wholesome to be spit upon, and has been of service to them.

ARIST. Why, what do you say? Do you, too, credit him?

HEG. Credit him in what? ARIST. That I am mad?

TYND. Do you see him, with what a furious aspect he's looking at you? 'Twere best to retire, Hegio; it is as I said, his frenzy grows apace; have a care for yourself.

HEG. I thought that he was mad, the moment that he called you Tyndarus.

TYND. Why, he's sometimes ignorant of his own name and doesn't know what it is.

HEG. But he even said that you were his intimate friend.

TYND. So far from that, I never saw him. Why, really, Alcmaeon, and Orestes, and Lycurgus {3} besides, are my friends on the same principle that he is.

ARIST. Villain, and do you dare speak ill of me, as well? Do I not know you?

HEG. I' faith, it really is very clear that you don't know him, who are calling him Tyndarus, instead of Philocrates Him whom you see, you don't know; you are addressing him as the person whom you don't see.

ARIST. On the contrary this fellow's saying that he is the person who he is not; and he says that he is not the person who he really is.

TYND. You've been found, of course, to excel Philocrates in truthfulness.

ARIST. By my troth, as I understand the matter, you've been found to brazen out the truth by lying. But i' faith, prithee, come then, look at me.

TYND. (looking at him). Well! ARIST. Say, now; do you deny that you are Tyndarus?

TYND. I do deny it, I say.

ARIST. Do you say that you are Philocrates?

TYND. I do say so, I say.

ARIST. (to HEGIO). And do you believe him?

HEG. More, indeed, than either you or myself. For he, in fact, who you say that he is (pointing to TYNDARUS), has set out hence to-day for Elis, to this person's father.

ARIST. What father, when he's a slave. {4}

TYND. And so are you a slave, and yet you were a free man; and I trust that so I shall be, if I restore his son here to liberty.

ARIST. How say you, villain? Do you say that you were born a free man {liber}?

TYND. I really do not say that I am Liber {5}, but that I am Philocrates.

ARIST. How's this? How this scoundrel, Hegio, is making sport of you now. For he's a slave himself, and never, except his own self, had he a slave.

TYND. Because you yourself are destitute in your own country, and haven't whereon to live at home, you wish all to be found like to yourself; you don't do anything surprising. 'Tis the nature of the distressed to be ill-disposed, and to envy the fortunate.

ARIST. Hegio, take you care, please, that you don't persist in rashly placing confidence in this man; for so far as I see, he is certainly now putting some device in execution, in saying that he is redeeming your son from captivity; that is by no means satisfactory to me.

TYND. I know that you don't wish that to be done; still I shall effect it, if the Gods assist me. I shall bring him back here, and he will restore me to my father, in Elis. For that purpose have I sent Tyndarus hence to my father.

ARIST. Why, you yourself are he; nor is there any slave in Elis of that name, except yourself.

TYND. Do you persist in reproaching me with being a slave—a thing that has befallen me through the fortune of war?

ARIST. Really, now, I cannot contain myself.

TYND. (to HEGIO). Ha! don't you hear him? Why don't you take to flight? He'll be pelting us just now with stones there, unless you order him to be seized.

ARIST. I'm distracted. TYND. His eyes strike fire; there's need of a rope, Hegio. Don't you see how his body is spotted all over with livid spots? Black bile {6} is disordering the man.

ARIST. And, by my faith, if this old gentleman is wise, black pitch {7} will be disordering you with the executioner, and giving a light to your head.

TYND. He's now talking in his fit of delirium; sprites are in possession of the man.

HEG. By my troth, suppose I order him to be seized?

TYND. You would be acting more wisely.

ARIST. I'm vexed that I haven't a stone, to knock out the brains of that whip-scoundrel, who's driving mo to madness by his taunts.

TYND. Don't you hear that he's looking for a stone?

ARIST. I wish to speak with you alone, separately, Hegio.

HEG. Speak from where you are, if you want anything; though at a distance, I shall hear you.

TYND. Yes, for, by my faith, if you approach nearer, he'll to taking your nose off with his teeth.

ARIST. By heavens, Hegio, don't you believe that I am mad, or that I ever was so, or that I have the malady which that fellow avers. But if you fear anything from me, order me to be bound: I wish it, so long as that fellow is bound as well.

TYND. Why really, Hegio, rather let him be bound that wishes it.

ARIST. Now hold your tongue! I'll make you, you false Philocrates, to be found out this day to be a real Tyndarus. Why are you making signs {8} at me?

TYND. I, making signs at you? (To HEGIO.) What would he do, if you were at a greater distance off?

HEG. What do you say? What if I approach this madman?

TYND. Nonsense; you'll be made a fool of; he'll be prating stuff, to you, neither the feet nor the head of which will ever be visible. The dress only {9} is wanting; in seeing this man, you behold Ajax himself.

HEG. I don't care; still I'll approach him. (Advances to ARISTOPHONTES.)

TYND. (aside). Now am I utterly undone; now between the sacrifice and the stone {10} do I stand, nor know I what to do.

HEG. I lend you my attention, Aristophontes, if there is anything that you would wish with me.

ARIST. From me you shall hear that truth, which now you think to be false, Hegio. But I wish, in the first place, to clear myself from this with you—that madness does not possess me, and that I have no malady, except that I am in captivity; and, so may the King of Gods and of men make me to regain my native land, that fellow there is no more Philocrates than either I or you.

HEG. Come, then, tell me who he is?

ARIST. He whom I've told you all along from the beginning. If you shall find him any other than that person, I show no cause why I shouldn't suffer the loss with you both of my parents and of my liberty for ever.

HEG. (to TYNDARUS). What say you to this?

TYND. That I am your slave, and you my master.

HEG. I didn't ask that—were you a free man?

TYND. I was. ARIST. But he really wasn't; he is deceiving you.

TYND. How do you know? Were you, perchance, the midwife of my mother, since you dare to affirm this so boldly?

ARIST. When a boy, I saw yourself, a boy.

TYND. But, grown up, I now see you grown up; so, there's for you, in return. If you did right, you wouldn't be troubling yourself about my concerns; do I trouble myself about yours?

HEG. Was his father called Thesaurochrysonicocroesides?

ARIST. He was not; and I never heard that name before this day. Theodoromedes was the father of Philocrates.

TYND. (aside). I'm downright undone. Why don't you be quiet, heart of mine? Go and be stretched, and hang yourself; you are throbbing so, that unfortunate I can hardly stand up for my fear.

HEG. Is a full assurance given me that this was a slave in Elis, and that he is not Philocrates?

ARIST. So fully, that you will never find this to be otherwise; but where is he {11} now?

HEG. Where I the least, and he the most could wish himself. In consequence, then, I'm cut asunder, {12} disjointed, to my sorrow, by the devices of this scoundrel, who has bamboozled me by his tricks just as he has thought fit. But do, please, have a care that you are right.

ARIST. Why, I assure you of this, as an ascertained and established fact.

HEG. For certain? ARIST. Why, nothing, I say, will you find more certain than this certainty. Philocrates, from when a boy, has ever since that time been my friend.

HEG. But of what appearance is your friend Philocrates?

ARIST. I'll tell you: with a thin face, sharp nose, light hair, dark eyes, somewhat ruddy, with hair rather crisp and curling.

HEG. The description is like. TYND. (aside). Aye, so much so, indeed, that I've this day, much to my sorrow, got into the midst of this, i' faith. Woe to those unfortunate rods, which this day will be meeting their end upon my back.

HEG. I see that I've been imposed upon.

TYND. (aside). Why, fetters, do you delay to run towards me and to embrace my legs that I may have you in custody?

HEG. And have these two rascally captives really deceived me this day with their tricks? the other one pretended that he was the servant and this one that he himself was the master. I've lost a kernal; for a security, I've left the shell. To such a degree have they imposed upon me, {13} both on this side and that, with their trickeries. Still, this fellow shall never have the laugh against me. Colaphus, Cordalio, Corax {14} (to the SLAVES), go you away and bring out the thongs.

SLAVE. Are we to be sent to gather faggots {15}? (TheSLAVES go and bring the thongs from the house.)

{Footnote 1: Which is spit out)—Ver. 566. Some would render the words "qui sputatur," "which is spit upon," and fancy that they find authorities in the ancient writers for thinking that epilepsy was treated by spitting upon the patient. However, it seems much more probable, that the notion was that epilepsy was cured by the patient himself spitting out the noxious saliva; and that the word "sputatur" means, "is spit out," i. e. "is cured by spitting." Celsus thus describes the "comitialis morbus," "epilepsy," or "falling sickness: The person seized, suddenly falls down; foam drops from the mouth; then, after a little time, he comes to himself, and gets up again without any assistance." Pliny, in his Natural History, B. 38, c. 4, says: "Despuimus comitiales morbos, hoc est, contagia regerimus," "We spit out the epilepsy, that is, we avert the contagion." This is said, probably, in reference to a belief, that on seeing an epileptic person, if we spit, we shall avoid the contagion; but it by no means follows that the person so doing must spit upon the epileptic person. We read in the first Book of Samuel, ch. xxi., ver. 12: "And David laid up these words in his heart, and was sore afraid of Achish, the King of Gath. And he changed his behaviour before them, and feigned himself mad in their hands, and scrabbled on the doors of the gate, and let his spittle fall down on his beard." He probably pretended to be attacked with epileptic fits. In fact, after due examination, there seems little doubt that it was a common notion with the ancients that the distemper was discharged with the saliva.}

{Footnote 2: To be spit upon)—Ver. 569. Aristophontes has understood the words, "qua spitatur," in the sense of "which is spit upon," and asks Tyndarus if he affirms that he is afflicted with a disease which requires such treatment. Hegio, to pacify him, and to show off his medical knowledge, tells him that it has proved beneficial in some diseases to be so treated; but he does not go so far as to say what those diseases were. One malady, called "herpes," or "spreading ulcer," was said to be highly contagions, but capable of being cured by applications of saliva. Some Commentators here quote the method which our Saviour adopted in curing the blind man at Bethsaida: "And he took the blind man by the hand, and led him out of the town: and when he had spat on his eyes and put his hands upon him, he asked him if he saw aught." St. Mark, ch. viii., ver. 23. And again, the account given in the ninth chapter of St. John, ver. 6: "When he had thus spoken, he spat on the ground, and made clay of the spittle, and he anointed the eyes of the blind man with the clay." It may be possible that our Saviour thought fit to adopt these forms, in imitation of some of the methods of treating diseases in those times; though, of course, his transcendent power did not require their agency. Rost, in his Commentaries on Plautus, has very learned disquisition on the meaning of the present passage.}

{Footnote 3: Alcmaeon, and Orestes, and Lycurgus)—Ver. 568. He alludes to these three persons as being three of the most celebrated men of antiquity that were attacked with frenzy. Orestes slew his mother, Clytemnestra; Alcmaeon killed his mother, Eriphyle; and Lycurgus, King of Thrace, on slighting the worship of Bacchus, was afflicted with madness, in a fit of which he hewed off his own legs with a hatchet.}

{Footnote 4: When he's a slave)—Ver. 580. Slaves were not considered to have any legal existence; and, therefore, to have neither parents or relations.}

{Footnote 5: That I am Liber)—Ver. 584. Aristophontes asks him if he means to assert that he was born a free man, "liber." As "Liber" was also a name of Bacchus, Tyndarus quibbles, and says, "I did not assert that I am Liber, but that I am Philocrates." In consequence of the idiom of the Latin language, his answer (non equidem me Liberam, sed Philocratem esse aio) will admit of another quibble, and may be read as meaning, "I did not say that I am a free man, but that Philocrates is." This maybe readily seen by the Latin scholar, but is not so easily explained to the English reader}

{Footnote 6: Black bile)—Ver. 602. A superabundance of the bile was supposed to be productive of melancholy madness. The word "melancholy" is from the Greek {Greek: melangcholia}, "black bile."}

{Footnote 7: Black pitch)—Ver. 603. He alludes to a frightful punishment inflicted upon malefactors by the Romans. They were either smeared over with burning pitch, or were first covered with pitch, which was then set fire to. This punishment is supposed to have been often inflicted upon the early Christians. Juvena alludes to it in his First Satire, I. 155:

Pone Tigellinum, taeda lucebis in illa,

Qua stantes ardent, qui fixo gutture fumant.

Describe Tigellinus {an infamous minister of Nero}, and yon shall give a light by those torches, in which those stand and burn who send forth smoke with a stake driven into their throat."}

{Footnote 8: Why are you making signs)—Ver. 617. "Abnutas." The verb "abnuto" means, "to nod to a person that he may desist." Tyndarus thinks that by this time Aristophontes must surely understand the plan that has been devised for the escape of Philocrates; and, as he is about to step aside to speak with Hegio, he makes a sign, requesting him to stop short in his contradiction of what he has asserted.}

{Footnote 9: The dress only)—Ver. 620. By "ornamenta" he means the dress of Tragedy. The dresses of Comedy were essentially different from those of Tragedy. He means to say, "the man is mad; if he had only the Tragic garb on, you might take him for Ajax Telamon in his frenzy." On being refused the arms of Achilles, Ajax became mad, and slaughtered a flock of sheep fancying that they were Ulysses and the sons of Atreus.}

{Footnote 10: The sacrifice and the stone)—Ver. 624. We learn from Livy, that in the most ancient times the animal for sacrifice was killed by being struck with a stone; to stand between the victim and the stone, would consequently imply, to be in a position of extreme danger.}

{Footnote 11: But where is he)—Ver. 645. Tyndarus has probably betaken himself to some corner of the stage, and Aristophontes misses him from his former position.}

{Footnote 12: Cut asunder)—Ver. 646. "Deruncinatus" means, literally, cut asunder with a "runcina," or "saw."}

{Footnote 13: Have they imposed upon me)—Ver. 661. "Os sublevere offuciis." Literally "painted my face with varnish." This expression is probably derived from the practice of persons concealing their defects, by painting over spots or freckles in the face for the purpose of hiding them.}

{Footnote 14: Colaphus, Cordalio, Corax)—Ver. 662. These are the names of slaves. "Colaphus" means, also, "a blow with the fist." "Corax" was the Greek name for a "crow," and was probably given to a black slave.}

{Footnote 15: To gather faggots)—Ver. 663. He asks this question because cords, "lora," were necessary for the purpose of binding up faggots.}

SCENE V.—HEGIO, TYNDARUS, ARISTOPHONTES, and SLAVES.

HEG. (to the SLAVES). Put the manacles on this whipped villain.

TYND. (whilst the SLAVES are fastening him). What's the matter? What have I done wrong?

HEG. Do you ask the question? You weeder and sower of villanies, and in especial their reaper.

TYND. Ought you not to have ventured to say the harrower first? For countrymen always harrow before they weed.

HEG. Why, with what assurance he stands before me.

TYND. It's proper for a servant, innocent and guiltless, to be full of confidence, most especially before his master.

HEG. (to the SLATES). Bind this fellow's hands tightly, will you.

TYND. I am your own—do you command them to be cut off even. But what is the matter on account of which you blame me?

HEG. Because me and my fortunes, so far as in you singly lay, by your rascally and knavish stratagems you have rent in pieces, and have districted my affairs and spoiled all my resources and my plans, in that you've thus robbed me of Philocrates by your devices. I thought that he was the slave, you the free man. So did you say yourselves, and in this way did you change names between you.

TYND. I confess that all was done so, as you say, and that by a stratagem he has got away from you, through my aid and cleverness; and prithee, now, do you blame me for that, i' faith?

HEG. Why, it has been done with your extreme torture for the consequence.

TYND. So I don't die by reason of my misdeeds, I care but little. If I do die here, then he returns not, as he said he would; but when I'm dead, this act will be remembered to my honor, that I caused my captive master to return from slavery and the foe, a free man, to his father in his native land; and that I preferred rather to expose my own life to peril, than that he should be undone.

HEG. Take care, then, to enjoy that fame at Acheron.

TYND. He who dies for virtue's sake, still does not perish.

HEG. When I've tortured you in the most severe manner, and for your schemes put you to death, let them say either that you have perished or that you have died; so long as you do die, I don't think it matters if they say you live.

TYND. I' faith, if you do do so, you'll do it not without retribution, if he shall return here, as I trust that he will return.

ARIST. (aside). O ye immortal Gods! I understand it now; now I know what the case really is. My friend Philocrates is at liberty with his father, in his native land. 'Tis well; nor have I any person to whom I could so readily wish well. But this thing grieves me, that I've done this person a bad turn, who now on account of me and my talking is in chains.

HEG. (to TYNDARUS). Did I not forbid you this day to utter anything false to me?

TYND. You did forbid me. HEG. Why did you dare to tell me lies?

TYND. Because the truth would have prejudiced him whom I was serving; now falsehood has advantaged him.

HEG. But it will prejudice yourself.

TYND. 'Tis very good. Still, I have saved my master, whom I rejoice at being saved, to whom my elder master had assigned me as a protector. But do you think that this was wrongly done?

HEG. Most wrongfully. TYND. But I, who disagree with you, say, rightly. For consider, if any slave of yours had done this for your son, what thanks you would have given him. Would you have given that slave his freedom or not? Would not that slave have been in highest esteem with you? Answer me that.

HEG. I think so. TYND. Why, then, are you angry with me?

HEG. Because you have proved more faithful to him than to myself.

TYND. How now? Did you expect, in a single night and day, for yourself to teach me—a person just made captive, a recent slave, and in his noviciate—that I should rather consult your interest than his, with whom from childhood I have passed my life?

HEG. Seek, then, thanks from him for that. (To the SLAVES.) Take him where he may receive weighty and thick fetters, thence, after that, you shall go to the quarries for cutting stone. There, while the others are digging out eight stones, unless you daily do half as much work again, you shall have the name of the six-hundred-stripe man {1}.

ARIST. By Gods and men, I do entreat you, Hegio, not to destroy this man.

HEG. He shall be taken all care of {2}. For at night, fastened with chains, he shall be watched; in the daytime, beneath the ground, he shall be getting out stone. For many a day will I torture him; I'll not respite him for a single day.

ARIST. Is that settled by you? HEG. Not more settled that I shall die. (To the SLAVES.) Take him away this instant to Hippolytus, the blacksmith; bid thick fetters to be rivetted on him. From there let him be led outside the gate to my freedman, Cordalus, at the stone-quarries. And tell him that I desire this man so to be treated, that he mayn't be in any respect worse off than he who is the most severely treated.

TYND. Why, since you are unwilling, do I desire myself to survive? At your own hazard is the risk of my life. After death, no evil have I to apprehend in death. Though I should live even to extreme age, still, short is the space for enduring what you threaten me with. Farewell and prosper; although you are deserving for me to say otherwise. You, Aristophontes, as you have deserved of me, so fare you; for on your account has this befallen me.

HEG. (to the SLAVES). Carry him off.

TYND. But this one thing I beg, that, if Philocrates should come back here, you will give me an opportunity of meeting him.

HEG. (to the SLAVES). At your peril, if you don't this instant remove him from my sight. (The SLAVES lay hold of TYNDARUS, and push him along.)

TYND. I' troth, this really is violence {3}, to be both dragged and pushed at the same time. (He is borne off by the SLAVES.)

{Footnote 1: Six-hundred-stripe man)—Ver. 731. "Sexcentoplago." This is a compound word, coined by the author.}

{Footnote 2: He shall be taken all care of)—Ver. 733. Struck with admiration at his fidelity, Aristophontes begs Hegio not to destroy Tyndarus. As the verb "perduis" might also mean "lose" him, Hegio ironically takes it in the latter sense, and says that there is no fear of that, for he shall be well taken care of; or, in other words, strictly watched.}

{Footnote 3: This really is violence)—Ver. 755. According to Suetonius, Julius Caesar used an exactly similar expression when first attacked by his murderers in the senate-house. On Tullius Cimber seizing bold of his garments he exclaimed, "Ita quidem vis est!" "Why, really, this is violence!"}

SCENE VI.—HEGIO and ARISTOPHONTUS.

HEG. He has been led off straight to prison {1}, as he deserves. Let no one presume to attempt such an enterprise. Had it not been for you who discovered this to me, still would they have been leading me by the bridle with their tricks. Now am I resolved henceforth never to trust any person in anything. This once I have been deceived enough; I did hope, to my sorrow, that I had rescued my son from slavery. That hope has forsaken me. I lost one son, whom, a child in his fourth year, a slave stole from me; and, indeed, never since have I found either slave or son; the elder one has fallen in the hands of the enemy. What guilt is this of mine? As though I had become the father of children for the purpose of being childless. (To ARISTOPHONTES.) Follow this way. I'll conduct you back where you were. I'm determined to have pity upon no one, since no one has pity upon me.

ARIST. Forth from my chains with evil omen did I come; now I perceive that with like ill omen to my bonds I must return. (Exeunt.

{Footnote 1: To prison)—Ver. 756. "Phylacam." This is a Greek word Latinized, meaning "prison" or "confinement."}

ACT IV.—SCENE I.

Enter ERGASILUS. {1}

ERG. Supreme Jove! thou dost preserve me, and dost augment my means. Plenty, extreme and sumptuous, dost thou present to me; celebrity, profit, enjoyment, mirth, festivity, holidays, sights, provisions, carousings, abundance, joyousness. And to no man have I now determined with myself to go a-begging; for I'm able either to profit my friend or to destroy my enemy, to such extent has this delightful day heaped delights upon me in its delightfulness. I have lighted upon a most rich inheritance without incumbrances {2}. Now will I wend my way to this old gentleman Hegio, to whom I am carrying blessings as great as he himself prays for from the Gods, and even greater. Now, this is my determination, in the same fashion that the slaves of Comedy {3} are wont, so will I throw my cloak around my neck, that from me, the first of all, he may learn this matter. And I trust that I, by reason of this news, shall find provision up to the end.

{Footnote 1: Ergasilus) He has just come from the harbour, where he has seen the son of Hegio, together with Philocrates and Stalagmus, landing from the packet-boat. Now, as he speaks still of his intended dinner with Hegio, to which he had been invited in the earlier part of the Play, we must conclude, that since then, Philocrates has taken ship from the coast of Aetolia, arrived in Elis, procured the liberation of Philopolemus, and returned with him, all in the space of a few hours. This, however, although the coast of Elis was only about fifteen miles from that of Aetolia, is not at all consistent with probability; and the author has been much censured by some Commentators, especially by Lessing, on account of his negligence It must, however, be remembered, that Plautus was writing for a Roman audience, the greater part of whom did not know whether Elis was one mile or one hundred from the coast of Aetolia. We may suppose, too, that Philopolemus had already caused Stalagmus, the runaway slave, to be apprehended before the arrival of Philocrates in Elis.}

{Footnote 2: An inheritance without incumbrance)—Ver. 780. "Sine sacra hereditas." The meaning of this expression has been explained in the Notes to the Trinummus, 484.}

{Footnote 3: Slaves of Comedy)—Ver. 783. This was done that, when expedition was required, the cloak might not prove an obstruction to the wearer as he walked. The slaves in Comedies usually wore the "pallium," and as they were mostly active, bustling fellows, would have it tucked tightly around them. The "pallium" was usually worn passed over the left shoulder, then drawn behind the back, and under the left arm, leaving it bare, and then thrown again over the left shoulder.}

SCENE II.—Enter HEGIO, at a distance.

HEG. (to himself). The more that I revolve this matter in my breast, the more is my uneasiness of mind increased. That I should have been duped in this fashion to-day! and that I wasn't able to see through it! When this shall be known, then I shall be laughed at all over the city. The very moment that I shall have reached the Forum, all will be saying, "This is that clever old gentleman, who had the trick played him." But is this Ergasilus, that I see coming at a distance? Surely he has got his cloak gathered up; what, I wonder, is he going to do?

ERG. (advancing, and talking to himself). Throw aside from you all tardiness, Ergasilus, and speed on this business. I threaten, and I strictly charge no person to stand in my way, unless any one shall be of opinion that he has lived long enough. For whoever does come in my way, shall stop me upon his face. (He runs along, flourishing his arms about.)

HEG. (to himself). This fellow's beginning to box.

ERG. (to himself). I'm determined to do it; so that every one may pursue his own path, let no one be bringing any of his business in this street; for my fist is a balista, my arm is my catapulta, my shoulder a battering-ram; then against whomsoever I dart my knee, I shall bring him to the ground. I'll make all persons to be picking up their teeth {1}, whomsoever I shall meet with.

HEG. (to himself). What threatening is this? For I cannot wonder enough.

ERG. I'll make him always to remember this day and place, and myself as well. Whoever stops me upon my road, I'll make him put a stop to his own existence.

HEG. (to himself). What great thing is this fellow preparing to do, with such mighty threats?

ERG. I first give notice, that no one, by reason of his own fault, may be caught—keep yourselves in-doors at home, and guard yourselves from my attack.

HEG. (to himself). By my faith, 'tis strange if he hasn't got this boldness by means of his stomach. Woe to that wretched man, through whose cheer this fellow has become quite swaggering.

ERG. Then the bakers, that feed swine, that fatten their pigs upon refuse bran, through the stench of which no one can pass by a baker's shop; if I see the pig of any one of them in the public way, I'll beat the bran out of the masters' themselves with my fists.

HEG. (to himself). Royal and imperial edicts does he give out. The fellow is full; he certainly has his boldness from his stomach.

ERG. Then the fishmongers, who supply stinking fish to the public—who are carried about on a gelding, with his galloping galling pace {2}—the stench of whom drives all the loungers in the Basilica {3} into the Forum, I'll bang their heads with their bulrush fish-baskets, that they may understand what annoyance they cause to the noses of other people. And then the butchers, as well, who render the sheep destitute of their young—who agree with you about killing lamb {4}, and then offer you lamb at double the price—who give the name of wether mutton to a ram—if I should only see that ram in the public way, I'll make both ram and owner most miserable beings.

HEG. (to himself). Well done! He really does give out edicts fit for an Aedile, and 'tis indeed a surprising thing if the Aetolians haven't made him inspector of markets {5}.

ERG. No Parasite now am I, but a right royal king of kings; so large a stock of provision for my stomach is there at hand in the harbour. But why delay to overwhelm this old gentleman Hegio with gladness? With him, not a person among mankind exists equally fortunate.

HEG. (apart). What joy is this, that he, thus joyous, is going to impart to me?

ERG. (knocking atHEGIO'S door). Hallo, hallo!—where are you? Is any one coming to open this door?

HEG. (apart). This fellow's betaking himself to my house to dine.

ERG. Open you both these doors {6}, before I shall with knocking cause the destruction, piecemeal, of the doors.

HEG. (apart). I'd like much to address the fellow. (Aloud.) Ergasilus!

ERG. Who's calling Ergasilus?

HEG. Turn round, and look at me.

ERG. (not seeing who it is). A thing that Fortune does not do for you, nor ever will do, you bid me to do. But who is it.

HEG. Look round at me. 'Tis Hegio.

ERG. (turning round). O me! Best of the very best of men, as many as exist, you have arrived opportunely.

HEG. You've met with some one at the harbour to dine with; through that you are elevated.

ERG. Give me your hand. HEG. My hand?

ERG. Give me your hand, I say, this instant.

HEG. Take it. (Giving him his hand.)

ERG. Rejoice. HEG. Why should I rejoice?

ERG. Because I bid you; come now, rejoice.

HEG. I' faith, my sorrows exceed my rejoicings.

ERG. 'Tis not so, as you shall find; I'll at once drive away every spot of sorrow {7} from your body. Rejoice without restraint.

HEG. I do rejoice, although I don't at all know why I should rejoice.

ERG. You do rightly; now order—HEG. Order what?

ERG. A large fire to be made.

HEG. A large fire? ERG. So I say, that a huge one it must be.

HEG. What, you vulture, do you suppose that for your sake I'm going to set my house on fire?

ERG. Don't be angry. Will you order, or will you not order, the pots to be put on, and the saucepans to be washed out, the bacon and the dainties to be made warm in the heated cooking-stoves, another one, too, to go purchase the fish?

HEG. This fellow's dreaming while awake.

ERG. Another to buy pork, and lamb, and pullets.

HEG. You understand how to feed well, if you had the means.

ERG. Gammons of bacon, too, and lampreys, spring pickled tunny-fish, mackerel, and sting-ray; large fish, too, and soft cheese.

HEG. You will have more opportunity, Ergasilus, here at my house, of talking about these things than of eating them.

ERG. Do you suppose that I'm saying this on my own account?

HEG. You will neither be eating nothing here to-day, nor yet much more than usual, so don't you be mistaken. Do you then bring an appetite to my house for your every-day fare.

ERG. Why, I'll so manage it, that you yourself shall wish to be profuse, though I myself should desire you not.

HEG. What, I? ERG. Yes, you.

HEG. Then you are my master. ERG. Yes, and a kindly disposed one. Do you wish me to make you happy?

HEG. Certainly I would, rather than miserable.

ERG. Give me your hand. HEG. (extending his hand) Here is my hand.

ERG. All the Gods are blessing you.

HEG. I don't feel it so. ERG. Why, you are not in a quickset hedge,{8} therefore you don't feel it; but order the vessels, in a clean state, to be got for you forthwith in readiness for the sacrifice, and one lamb to be brought here with all haste, a fat one.

HEG. Why? ERG. That you may offer sacrifice.

HEG. To which one of the Gods?

ERG. To myself, i' faith, for now am I your supreme Jupiter. I likewise am your salvation, your fortune, your life, your delight, your joy. Do you at once, then, make this Divinity propitious to you by cramming him.

HEU. You seem to me to be hungry.

ERG. For myself am I hungry, and not for you.

HEG. I readily allow of it at your own good will.

ERG. I believe you; from a boy you were in the habit—{9}

HEG. May Jupiter and the Gods confound you.

ERG. I' troth, 'tis fair that for my news you should return me thanks; such great happiness do I now bring you from the harbour.

HEG. Now you are flattering me. Begone, you simpleton; you have arrived behind time, too late.

ERG. If I had come sooner, then for that reason you might rather have said that. Now, receive this joyous news of me which I bring you; for at the harbour I just now saw your son Philopolemus in the common fly-boat, alive, safe and sound, and likewise there that other young man together with him, and Stalagmus your slave, who fled from your house, who stole from you your little son, the child of four years old.

HEG. Away with you to utter perdition! You are trifling with me

ERG. So may holy Gluttony {10} love me, Hegio, and so may she ever dignify me with her name, I did see—

HEG. My son? ERG. Your son, and my good Genius.

HEG. That Elean captive, too?

ERG. Yes, by Apollo. {11}

HEG. The slave, too? My slave Stalagmus, he that stole my son—?

ERG. Yes, by Cora HEG. So long a time ago?

ERG. Yes, by Praeneste! HEG. Is he arrived?

ERG. Yes, by Signia! HEG. For sure?

ERG. Yes, by Phrysinone! HEG. Have a care, if you please.

ERG. Yes, by Alatrium! HEG. Why are you swearing by foreign cities?

ERG. Why, because they are just as disagreable as you were declaring your fare to be.

HEG. Woe be to you! ERG. Because that you don't believe me at all in what I say in sober earnestness. But of what country was Stalagmus, at the time when he departed hence?

HEG. A Sicilian. ERG. But now he is not a Sicilian—he is a Boian; he has got a Boian woman {12}. A wife, I suppose, has been given to him for the sake of obtaining children.

HEG. Tell me, have you said these words to me in good earnest?

ERG. In good earnest. HEG. Immortal Gods, I seem to be born again, if you are telling the truth.

ERG. Do you say so? Will you still entertain doubts, when I have solemnly sworn to you? In fine, Hegio, if you have little confidence in my oath, go yourself to the harbour and see.

HEG. I'm determined to do so. Do you arrange in-doors what's requisite. Use, ask for, take from my larder what you like; I appoint you cellarman.

ERG. Now, by my troth, if I have not prophesied truly to you, do you comb me out with a cudgel.

HEG. I'll find you in victuals to the end, if you are telling me the truth.

ERG. Whence shall it be? HEG. From myself and from my son.

ERG. Do you promise that? HEG. I do promise it.

ERG. But I, in return, promise {13} you that your son has arrived.

HEG. Manage as well as ever you can.

ERG. A happy walk there to you, and a happy walk back.

(Exit HEGIO.

{Footnote 1: To be picking up their teeth)—Ver. 803. "Dentilegos." He says that he will knock their teeth out, and so make them pick them up from the ground. We must suppose that while he is thus hurrying on, he is walking up one of the long streets which were represented as emerging on the Roman stage, opposite to the audience.}

{Footnote 2: Galling pace)—Ver. 819. "Crucianti" may mean either "tormenting" the spectator by reason of the slowness of its pace, or galling to the rider. "Quadrupedanti crucianti cauterio" is a phrase, both in sound and meaning, much resembling what our song-books call the "galloping dreary dun."}

{Footnote 3: In the Basilica)—Ver. 820. The "Basilica" was a building which served as a court of law, and a place of meeting for merchants and men of business. The name was perhaps derived from the Greek word Basileus, as the title of the second Athenian Archon, who had his tribunal or court of justice. The building was probably, in its original form, an insulated portico. The first edifice of this kind at Rome was erected B.C. 184; probably about the period when this Play was composed. It was situate in the Forum, and was built by Porcius Cato, from whom it was called the "Porcian Basilica." Twenty others were afterwards erected at different periods in the city. The loungers here mentioned, in the present instance, were probably sauntering about under the porticos of the Basilica, when their olfactory nerves were offended by the unsavoury smell of the fishermen's baskets.}

{Footnote 4: About killing lamb)—Ver. 824. In these lines he seems to accuse the butchers of three faults—cruelty, knavery, and extortion. The general reading is "duplam," but Rost suggests "dupla," "at double the price." If "duplam" is retained, might it not possibly mean that the butchers agree to kill lamb for you, and bring to you "duplam agninam," "double lamb," or, in other words, lamb twice as old as it ought to be? No doubt there was some particular age at which lamb, in the estimation of Ergasilus and his brother-epicures, was considered to be in its greatest perfection.}

{Footnote 5: Inspector of markets)—Ver. 829. "Agoranomum." The Aediles were the inspectors of markets at Rome, while the "Agoranomi" had a similar office in the Grecian cities.}

{Footnote 6: Both these doors)—Ver. 836. The street-doors of the ancients were generally "bivalve," or "folding-doors."}

{Footnote 7: Every spot of sorrow )—Ver. 846. He alludes, figuratively, to the art of the fuller or scourer, in taking the spots out of soiled garments.}

{Footnote 8: In a quickset hedge)—Ver. 865. Here is a most wretched attempt at wit, which cannot be expressed in a literal translation. Hegio says, "Nihil sentio," "I don't feel it." Ergasilus plays upon the resemblance of the verb "sentio" to "sentis" and "senticetum," a "bramble-bush" or "quickset hedge;" and says, 'You don't feel it so," "non sentis," "because you are not in a quickset hedge,' "in senticeto." }

{Footnote 9: From a boy)—Ver. 872. An indelicate allusion is covertly intended in this line. }

{Footnote 10: So may holy Gluttony—Ver. 882. The Parasite very appropriately deifies Gluttony: as the Goddess of Bellyful would, of course, merit his constant worship.}

{Footnote 11: Yes, by Apollo)—Ver. 885. In the exuberance of his joy at his prospects of good eating, the Parasite gives this, and his next five replies, in the Greek language; just as the diner-out, and the man of bon-mots and repartee, might in our day couch his replies in French, with the shrug of the shoulder and the becoming grimace. He first swears by Apollo, and then by Cora, which may mean either a city of Campania so called, or the Goddess Proserpine, who was called by the Greeks, {Greek: Korae}, "the maiden." He then swears by four places in Campania—Praeneste, Signia, Phrysinone, and Alatrium. As the scene is in Greece, Hegio asks him why he swears by these foreign places; to which he gives answer merely because they are as disagreable as the unsavoury dinner of vegetables which he had some time since promised him. This is, probably, merely an excuse for obtruding a slighting remark upon these places, which would meet with a ready response from a Roman audience, as the Campanians had sided with Hannibal against Rome in the second Punic war. They were probably miserable places on which the more refined Romans looked with supreme contempt.}

{Footnote 12: Got a Boian woman)—Vet. 893. There is an indelicate meaning in the expression "Buiam terere." The whole line is intended as a play upon words. "Boia" means either "a collar," which was placed round a prisoner's neck, or a female of the nation of the Boii in Gaul. "Boiam terere" may mean either "to have the prisoner's collar on," or, paraphrastically, "to be coupled with a Boian woman." Ergasilus having seen Stalagmus in the packet-boat with this collar on, declares that Stalagmus is a Sicilian no longer, for he has turned Boian, having a Boian helpmate.}

{Footnote 13: I, in return, promise)—Ver. 904. Ergasilus says, "Do you really promise me this fine entertainment?" To which, Hegio answers, "Spondeo," "I do promise." On this, Ergasilus replies, "that your son really has returned, I answer you," "respondeo," or, as he intends it to be meant, "I promise you once again," or "in return for your promise."}

SCENE III.—ERGASILUS, alone.

ERG. He has gone away from here, and has entrusted to me the most important concern of catering. Immortal Gods! how I shall now be slicing necks off of sides; how vast a downfall will befall the gammon {1}; how vast a belabouring the bacon! How great a using-up of udders, how vast a bewailing for the brawn! How great a bestirring for the butchers, how great a preparation for the pork-sellers! But if I were to enumerate the rest of the things which minister to the supply of the stomach, 'twould be sheer delay. Now will I go off to my government, to give laws to the bacon, and, those gammons that are hanging uncondemned, {2} to give aid to them. (Goes into the house.)

{Footnote 1: Befall the gammon)—Ver. 908. An alliteration is employed in these two lines, which cannot be well kept up in a literal translation. As, however, in the translation an attempt is made to give the spirit of the passage, the literal meaning may be here stated. "Pernis pestis," "a plague to the gammons;" "labes larido," "a fall for the bacon;" "sumini absumedo," "a consumption of udder;" "callo calamitas," "destruction to the brawn;" and "laniis lassitudo," "weariness to the butchers." Sows' udder, with the milk in it, first dried, and then cooked in some peculiar manner, was considered a great delicacy by the Roman epicures.}

{Footnote 2: Hanging uncondemned)—Ver. 913. He'll commute the punishment of the gammons and hams, for they shall hang no longer.}

ACT V.—SCENE I.

Enter a LAD, a servant of HEGIO.

LAD. May Jupiter and the Deities confound you, Ergasilus, and your stomach, and all Parasites, and every one who henceforth shall give a dinner to Parasites. Destruction and devastation and ruin have just now entered our house. I was afraid that he would be making an attack on me, as though he had been an hungry wolf. And very dreadfully, upon my faith, was I frightened at him; he made such a gnashing with his teeth. On his arrival, the whole larder, with the meat, he turned upside down. He seized a knife, and first cut off the kernels of the neck {1} from three sides. All the pots and cups he broke, except those that held a couple of gallons {2}; of the cook he made enquiry whether the salting pans could be set on the fire to be made hot. All the cellars in the house he has broken into, and has laid the store-closet {3} open. (At the door.) Watch him, servants, if you please; I'll go to meet the old gentleman. I'll tell him to get ready some provisions for his own self, if, indeed, he wishes himself to make use of any. For in this place, as this man, indeed, is managing, either there's nothing already, or very soon there will be nothing. (Exit.

{Footnote 1: The kernels of the neck)—Ver. 920. The "glandia" were the kernels or tonsils of the throat, situate just below the root of the tongue. These portions of the dead pig seem to have been much prized as delicate eating. Judging from the present passage, the whole side of the pig, including the half-head, was salted and dried in one piece: The first thing that the Parasite does, is to cut the kernels from off of three sides, which he has relieved from the punishment of hanging.}

{Footnote 2: A couple of gallons)—Ver. 921. "Modiales." Literally, containing a "modius," which contained sixteen sextarii, something more than a peck of dry-measure English.}

{Footnote 3: The store-closet)—Ver. 923. "Armarium" was to called because it was originally a place for keeping arms. It afterwards came to signify a cupboard in a wall, in which clothes, books, money, and other articles of value, were placed. It was generally in the "atrium," or principal room of the house. In this instance it evidently means the store-closet, distinguished from the larder and the}

SCENE II.—Enter HEGIO, PHILOPOLEMUS, PHILOCRATES, and behind them, STALAGMUS.

HEG. To Jove and to the Deities I return with reason hearty thanks, inasmuch as they have restored you to your father, and inasmuch as they have delivered me from very many afflictions, which, while I was obliged to be here without you, I was enduring, and inasmuch as I see that that fellow (pointing to STALAGMUS) is in my power, and inasmuch as his word (pointing to PHILOCRATES) has been found true to me.

PHILOP. Enough now have I grieved from my very soul, and enough with care and tears have I disquieted myself. Enough now have I heard of your woes, which at the harbour you told me of. Let us now to this business.

PHIL. What now, since I've kept my word with you, and have caused him to be restored back again to freedom?

HEG. Philocrates, you have acted so that I can never return you thanks enough, in the degree that you merit from myself and my son.

PHILOP. Nay, but you can, father, and you will be able, and I shall be able; and the Divinities will give the means for you to return the kindness he merits to one who deserves so highly of us; as, my father, you are able to do to this person who so especially deserves it.

HEG. What need is there of words? I have no tongue with which to deny whatever you may ask of me.

PHIL. I ask of you to restore to me that servant whom I left here as a surety for myself; who has always proved more faithful to me than to himself; in order that for his services I may be enabled to give him a reward.

HEG. Because you have acted thus kindly, the favour shall be returned, the thing that you ask; both that and anything else that you shall ask of me, you shall obtain. And I would not have you blame me, because in my anger I have treated him harshly.

PHIL. What have you done? HEG. I confined him in fetters at the stone-quarries, when I found out that I had been imposed upon.

PHIL. Ah wretched me! That for my safety misfortunes should have happened to that best of men.

HEG. Now, on this account, you need not give me even one groat of silver {1} for him. Receive him of me without cost that he may be free.

PHIL. On my word, Hegio, you act with kindness; but I entreat that you will order this man to be sent for.

HEG. Certainly. (To the attendants, who immediately obey.) Where are you? Go this instant, and bring Tyndarus here. (To PHILOPOLEMUS and PHILOCRATES.) Do you go in-doors; in the meantime, I wish to enquire of this statue for whipping {2}, what was done with my younger son. Do you go bathe in the meantime.

PHILOP. Philocrates, follow me this way in-doors.

PHIL. I follow you. (They go into the house.)

{Footnote 1: One groat of silver)—Ver. 952. "Libella" was the name of the smallest silver coin with the Romans, being the tenth part of a denarius. Hegio seems to make something of a favour of this, and to give his liberty to Tyndarus in consideration of his punishment; whereas he had originally agreed with Philocrates that, if Philopolemus was liberated, both he and Tyndarus should be set at liberty.}

{Footnote 2: This statue for whipping)—Ver. 956. The same expression occurs in the Pseudolus, I. 911.}

SCENE III.—HEGIO and STALAGMUS.

HEG. Come you, step this way, you worthy fellow, my fine slave.

STAL. What is fitting for me to do, when you, such a man as you are, are speaking false? I was never a handsome or a fine, or a good person, or an honest one, nor shall I ever be; assuredly, don't you be forming any hopes that I shall be honest.

HEG. You easily understand pretty well in what situation your fortunes are. If you shall prove truth-telling, you'll make your lot from bad somewhat better. Speak out, then, correctly and truthfully; but never yet truthfully or correctly have you acted.

STAL. Do you think that I'm ashamed to own it, when you affirm it?

HEG. But I'll make you to be ashamed; for I'll cause you to be blushes all over {1}.

STAL. Heyday—you're threatening stripes, I suppose, to me, quite unaccustomed to them! Away with them, I beg. Tell me what you bring, that you may carry off hence what you are in want of.

HEG. Very fluent indeed. But now I wish this prating to be cut short.

STAL. As you desire, so be it done.

HEG. (to the AUDIENCE). As a boy he was very obedient {2}; now that suits him not. Let's to this business; now give your attention, and inform me upon what I ask. If you tell the truth, you'll make your fortunes somewhat better.

STAL. That's mere trifling. Don't you think that I know what I'm deserving of?

HEG. Still, it is in your power to escape a small portion of it, if not the whole.

STAL. A small portion I shall escape, I know; but much will befall me, and with my deserving it, because I both ran away, and stole your son and sold him.

HEG. To what person? STAL. To Theodoromedes the Polyplusian, in Elis, for six minae.

HEG. O ye immortal Gods! He surely is the father of this person, Philocrates.

STAL. Why, I know him better than yourself, and have seen him more times.

HEG. Supreme Jove, preserve both myself and my son for me. (He goes to the door, and calls aloud.) Philocrates, by your good Genius, I do entreat you, come out, I want you.

{Footnote 1: Be blushes all over)—Ver. 967. He means that he will have him flogged until he is red all over.}

{Footnote 2: Was very obedient)—Ver. 971. An indelicate remark is covertly intended in this passage.}

SCENE IV.—Enter PHILOCRATES, from the house.

PHIL. Hegio, here am I; if you want anything of me, command me.

HEG. He (pointing to STALAGMUS) declares that he sold my son to your father, in Elis, for six minae.

PHIL. (to STALAGMUS). How long since did that happen?

STAL. This is the twentieth year, commencing from it.

PHIL. He is speaking falsely. STAL. Either I or you do. Why, your father gave you the little child, of four years old, to be your own slave.

PHIL. What was his name? If you are speaking the truth, tell me that, then.

STAL. Paegnium, he used to be called; afterwards, you gave him the name of Tyndarus.

PHIL. Why don't I recollect you? STAL. Because it's the fashion for persons to forget, and not to know him whose favour is esteemed as worth nothing.

PHIL. Tell me, was he the person whom you sold to my father, who was given me for my private service?

STAL. It was his son (pointing to HEGIO).

HEG. Is this person now living? STAL. I received the money. I cared nothing about the rest.

HEG. (to PHILOCRATES). What do you say?

PHIL. Why, this very Tyndarus is your son, according, indeed, to the proofs that he mentions. For, a boy himself together with me from boyhood was he brought up, virtuously and modestly, even to manhood.

HEG. I am both unhappy and happy, if you are telling the truth. Unhappy for this reason, because, if he is my son, I have badly treated him. Alas! why have I done both more and less than was his due. That I have ill treated him I am grieved; would that it only could be undone. But see, he's coming here, in a guise not according to his deserts.

SCENE V.—Enter TYNDARUS, in chains, led in by the SERVANTS.

TYND. (to himself). I have seen many of the torments which take place at Acheron {1} often represented in paintings {2}; but most certainly there is no Acheron equal to where I have been in the stone-quarries. There, in fine, is the place where real lassitude must be undergone by the body in laboriousness. For when I came there, just as either jackdaws, or ducks, or quails, are given to Patrician children {3}, for them to play with, so in like fashion, when I arrived, a crow was given {4} me with which to amuse myself. But see, my master's before the door; and lo! my other master has returned from Elis.

HEG. Hail to you, my much wished-for son.

TYND. Ha! how—my son? Aye, aye, I know why you pretend yourself to be the father, and me to be the son; it is because, just as parents do, you give me the means of seeing the light{5}.

PHIL. Hail to you, Tyndarus. TYND. And to you, for whose sake I am enduring these miseries.

PHIL. But now I'll make you in freedom come to wealth. For (pointing to HEGIO) this is your father; (pointing to STALAGMUS) that is the slave who stole you away from here when four years old, and sold you to my father for six minae. He gave you, when a little child, to me a little child, for my own service. He (pointing to STALAGMUS). has made a confession, for we have brought him back from Elis.

TYND. How, where's Hegio's son? PHIL. Look now; in-doors is your own brother.

TYND. How do you say? Have you brought that captive son of his?

PHIL. Why, he's in-doors, I say.

TYND. By my faith, you're done both well and happily.

PHIL. (pointing to HEGIO). Now this is your own father; (pointing to STALAGMUS) this is the thief who stole you when a little child.

TYND. But now, grown up, I shall give him grown up to the executioner for his thieving.

PHIL. He deserves it. TYND. I' faith, I'll deservedly give him the reward that he deserves. (To HEGIO.) But tell me I pray you, are you my father?

HEG, I am he, my son. TYND. Now, at length, I bring it to my recollection, when I reconsider with myself: troth, I do now at last recall to memory that I had heard, as though through a mist, that my father was called Hegio.

HEG. I am he. PHIL. I pray that your son may be lightened of these fetters, and this slave be loaded with them.

HEG. I'm resolved that that shall be the first thing attended to. Let's go in-doors, that the blacksmith may be sent for, in order that I may remove those fetters from you, and give them to him. (They go into the house.)

STAL. To one who has no savings of his own, you'll be rightly doing so {6}.

The COMPANY of PLAYERS coming forward.

Spectators, this play is founded on chaste manners. No wenching is there in this, and no intriguing, no exposure of a child, no cheating out of money; and no young man in love here make his mistress free without his father's knowledge. The Poets find but few Comedies {7} of this kind, where good men might become better. Now, if it pleases you, and if we have pleased you, and have not been tedious, do you give this sign of it: you who wish that chaste manners should have their reward, give us your applause.

{Footnote 1: At Acheron)—Ver. 1003. He here speaks of Acheron, not as one of the rivers of hell, but as the infernal regions themselves.}

{Footnote 2: Represented in paintings)—Ver. 1003 Meursius thinks that the torments of the infernal regions were frequently represented in pictures, for the purpose of deterring men from evil actions, by keeping in view the certain consequences of their bad conduct.}

{Footnote 3: To Patrician children)—Ver. 1007. This passage is confirmed by what Pliny the Younger tells us in his Second Epistle. He says, that on the death of the son of Regulus, his father, in his grief, caused his favourite ponies and dogs, with his nightingales, parrots, and jackdaws, to be consumed on the funeral pile. It would certainly have been a greater compliment to his son's memory had he preserved them, and treated them kindly; but probably he intended to despatch them as playthings for the child in the other world.}

{Footnote 4: A crow was given)—Ver. 1009. "Upupa." He puns upon the twofold meaning of this word, which signified either "a mattock" or a bird called a "hoopoe," according to the context. To preserve the spirit of the pun, a somewhat different translation has been given.}

{Footnote 5: Of seeing the light)—Ver. 1013. He says, "You can only resemble a parent in the fact that you have given me the opportunity of seeing the light of day, by taking me out of the dark stone-quarries."}

{Footnote 6: Be rightly doing so)—Ver. 1033. Stalagmus chooses to take the word "dem" "may give," used by Hegio in its literal sense, and surlily replies, "I have nothing of my own by way of savings, 'peculium,' so I am the very person to whom you ought to give."}

{Footnote 7: Find but few Comedies)—Ver. 1038. He here confesses that he does not pretend to frame the plots of his Plays himself, but that he goes to Greek sources for them; and forgetting that "beggars most not be choosers," he complains that so very few of the Greek Comedies are founded upon chaste manners. Indeed, this Play is justly deemed the most pure and innocent of all the Plays of Plautus; and the Company are quite justified in the commendations which, in their Epilogue, they bestow on it, as the author has carried out the premise which he made in the Prologue (with only four slight exceptions), of presenting them with an immaculate Play.}

MOSTELLARIA OR, THE HAUNTED HOUSE.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

THEUROPIDES, a merchant of Athens.

SIMO, an aged Athenian, his neighbour.

PHILOLACHES, son of Theuropides.

CALLIDAMATES, a young Athenian, friend of Philolaches.

TRANIO, servant of Philolaches.

GRUMIO, servant of Theuropides.

PHANISCUS, servant of Callidamates.

ANOTHER SERVANT of Callidamates.

A BANKER.

A BOY.

PHILEMATIUM, a music-girl, mistress of Philolaches.

SCAPHA, her attendant.

DELPHIUM, mistress of Callidamates.

Scene—Athens: before the houses of THEUROPIDES and SIMO.

MOSTELLARIA {1} OR, THE HAUNTED HOUSE.

{Footnote 1: Mottellaria) This is a word probably derived from "mostellum," the diminutive of "monstrum," a "spectre" or "prodigy." It was probably coined by Plautus to serve as the title of this Play, which is called by several of the ancient Commentators by the name of "Phasma," "the Apparition."}

THE ACROSTIC ARGUMENT.

{Supposed to have been written by Priscian the Grammarian.}

PHILOLACHES has given liberty to (Manumisit) his mistress who has been bought by him, and he consumes all (Omnem) his substance in the absence of his father. When he returns, Tranio deceives the old man (Senem); he says that frightful (Terrifica) apparitions have been seen in the house, and (Et) that at once they had removed from it. A Usurer, greedy of gain (Lucripeta), comes up in the meantime, asking for the interest of some money, and again the old man is made sport of (Lusus) for the servant says that a deposit for a house which has been bought has been taken up (Acceptum) on loan. The old man enquires (Requirit) which it is; he says that of the neighbour next door. He then looks over (Inspectat) it. Afterwards he is vexed that he has been laughed at; still by (Ab) the companion of his son he is finally appeased.

ACT I.—SCENE I.

Enter, from the house of THEUROPIDES, GRUMIO, pushing out TRANIO.

GRU. Get out of the kitchen, will you; out of it, you whip-scoundrel, who are giving me your cavilling talk amid the platters; march out of the house, you ruin of your master. Upon my faith, if I only live, I'll be soundly revenged upon you in the country. Get out, I say, you steam of the kitchen. Why are you skulking thus?

TRA. Why the plague are you making this noise here before the house? Do you fancy yourself to be in the country{1}? Get out of the house; be off into the country. Go and hang yourself. Get away from the door. (Striking him.) There now, was it that you wanted?

GRU. (running away). I'm undone! Why are you beating me? TRA. Because you want it.

GRU. I must endure it. Only let the old gentleman return home; only let him come safe home, whom you are devouring in his absence.

TRA. You don't say what's either likely or true, you blockhead, as to any one devouring a person in his absence.

GRU. Indeed, you town wit, you minion of the mob, do you throw the country in my teeth? Really, Tranio, I do believe that you feel sure that before long you'll be handed over to the mill. Within a short period, i' faith, Tranio, you'll full soon be adding to the iron-bound race {2} in the country. While you choose to, and have the opportunity, drink on, squander his property, corrupt my master's son, a most worthy young man, drink night and day, live like Greeks {3}, make purchase of mistresses, give them their freedom, feed parasites, feast yourselves sumptuously. Was it thus that the old gentleman enjoined you when he went hence abroad? Is it after this fashion that he will find his property well husbanded? Do you suppose that this is the duty of a good servant, to be ruining both the estate and the son of his master? For I do consider him as ruined, when he devotes himself to these goings on. A person, with whom not one of all the young men of Attica was before deemed equally frugal or more steady, the same is now carrying off the palm in the opposite direction. Through your management and your tutoring has that been done.

TRA. What the plague business have you with me or with, what I do? Prithee, haven't you got your cattle in the country for you to look to? I choose to drink, to intrigue, to keep my wenches; this I do at the peril of my own back, and not of yours.

GRU. Then with what assurance he does talk! (Turning away in disgust.) Faugh!

TRA. But may Jupiter and all the Deities confound you; you stink of garlick, you filth unmistakeable, you clod, you he-goat, you pig-sty, you mixture of dog and she-goat.

GRU. What would you have to be done? It isn't all that can smell of foreign perfumes, if you smell of them; or that can take their places at table above their master, or live on such exquisite dainties as you live upon. Do you keep to yourself those turtle-doves, that fish, and poultry; let me enjoy my lot upon garlick diet. You are fortunate; I unlucky. It must be endured. Let my good fortune be awaiting me, your bad yourself.

TRA. You seem, Grumio, as though you envied me, because I enjoy myself and you are wretched. It is quite my due. It's proper for me to make love, and for you to feed the cattle; for me to fare handsomely, you in a miserable way.

GRU. O riddle for the executioner {4}, as I guess it will turn out; they'll be so pinking you with goads, as you carry your gibbet {5} along the streets one day, as soon as ever the old gentleman returns here.

TERA. How do you know whether that mayn't happen to yourself sooner than to me? GRU. Because I have never deserved it; you have deserved it, and you now deserve it.

TRA. Do cut short the trouble of your talking, unless you wish a heavy mischance to befall you.

GRU. Are you going to give me the tares for me to take for the cattle? If you are not, give me the money. Go on, still persist in the way in which you've commenced! Drink, live like Greeks, eat, stuff yourselves, slaughter your fatlings!

TRA. Hold your tongue, and be off into the country; I intend to go to the Piraeus to get me some fish for the evening. To-morrow I'll make some one bring you the tares to the farm. What's the matter? Why now are you staring at me, gallows-bird?

GRU. I' faith, I've an idea that will be your own title before long.

TRA. So long as it is as it is, in the meantime I'll put up with that "before long."

GRU. That's the way; and understand this one thing, that that which is disagreable comes much more speedily than that which you wish for.

TRA. Don't you be annoying; now then, away with you into the country, and betake yourself off. Don't you deceive yourself, henceforth you shan't be causing me any impediment. (Exit.

GRU. (to himself). Is he really gone? Not to care one straw for what I've said! O immortal Gods, I do implore your aid, do cause this old gentleman of ours, who has now been three years absent from here, to return hither as soon as possible, before everything is gone, both house and land. Unless he does return here, remnants to last for a few months only are left. Now I'll be off to the country; but look! I see my master's son, one who has been corrupted from having been a most excellent young man. (Exit.

{Footnote 1: In the country)—Ver. 7. Grumio appears to have been cook and herdsman combined, and perhaps generally employed at the country farm of Thenropides. On this occasion he seems to have been summoned to town to cook for the entertainment which Philolaches is giving to his friends.}

{Footnote 2: The iron-bound race)—Ver. 18. The gang of slaves, who, for their malpractices, are working in the country in chains.}

{Footnote 3: Live like Greeks)—Ver. 21. "Pergraescamini." Though the Scene is at Athens, Plautus consults the taste of a Roman Audience, as on many other occasions, in making the Greeks the patterns of riotous livers. Asconius Pedianus says that at these entertainments the Greeks drank off a cup of wine every time they named a Divinity or mentioned a friend.}

{Footnote 4: Riddle for the executioner)—Ver. 52. Riddled with holes by the scourge of the executioner.}

{Footnote 5: You carry your gibbet—Ver. 53. Bearing his own cross; a refinement of torture which was too often employed upon malefactors.}

SCENE II.—

Enter PHILOLACHES,  from the house of THEUROPIDES.

PHIL. (to himself). I've often thought and long reflected on it, and in my breast have held many a debate, and in my heart (if any heart I have) have revolved this matter, and long discussed it, to what thing I'm to consider man as like, and what form he has when he is born? I've now discovered this likeness. I think a man is like unto a new house when he is born. I'll give my proofs of this fact. (To the AUDIENCE.) And does not this seem to you like the truth? But so I'll manage that you shall think it is so. Beyond a doubt I'll convince you that it is true what I say. And this yourselves, I'm sure, when you have heard my words, will say is no otherwise than just as I now affirm that it is. Listen while I repeat my proofs of this fact; I want you to be equally knowing with myself upon this matter. As soon as ever a house is built up, nicely polished off {1}, carefully erected, and according to rule, people praise the architect and approve of the house, they take from it each one a model for himself. Each one has something similar, quite at his own expense; they do not spare their pains. But when a worthless, lazy, dirty, negligent fellow betakes himself thither with an idle family, then is it imputed as a fault to the house, while a good house is being kept in bad repair. And this is often the case; a storm comes on and breaks the tiles and gutters; then a careless owner takes no heed to put up others. A shower comes on and streams down the walls; the rafters admit the rain; the weather rots the labours of the builder; then the utility of the house becomes diminished; and yet this is not the fault of the builder. But a great part of mankind have contracted this habit of delay; if anything can be repaired by means of money, they are always still putting it off, and don't * * * do it until the walls come tumbling down {2}; then the whole house has to be built anew. These instances from buildings I've mentioned; and now I wish to inform you how you are to suppose that men are like houses. In the first place then, the parents are the builders-up of the children, and lay the foundation for the children; they raise them up, they carefully train them to strength, and that they may be good both for service and for view before the public. They spare not either their own pains or their cost, nor do they deem expense in that to be an expense. They refine them, teach them literature, the ordinances, the laws; at their own cost and labour they struggle, that others may wish for their own children to be like to them. When they repair to the army, they then find them some relation {3} of theirs as a protector. At that moment they pass out of the builder's hands. One year's pay has now been earned; at that period, then, a sample is on view how the building will turn out. But I was always discreet and virtuous, just as long as I was under the management of the builder. After I had left him to follow the bent of my own inclinations, at once I entirely spoiled the labours of the builders. Idleness came on; that was my storm; on its arrival, upon me it brought down hail and showers, which overthrew my modesty and the bounds of virtue, and untiled them for me in an instant. After that I was neglectful to cover in again; at once passion like a torrent entered my heart; it flowed down even unto my breast, and soaked through my heart. Now both property, credit, fair fame, virtue, and honor have forsaken me; by usage have I become much worse, and, i' faith (so rotten are these rafters of mine with moisture), I do not seem to myself to be able possibly to patch up my house to prevent it from falling down totally once for all, from perishing from the foundation, and from no one being able to assist me. My heart pains me, when I reflect how I now am and how I once was, than whom in youthful age not one there was more active in the arts of exercise {4}, with the quoit, the javelin, the ball, racing, arms, and horses. I then lived a joyous life {5}; in frugality and hardihood I was an example to others; all, even the most deserving, took a lesson from me for themselves. Now that I'm become worthless, to that, indeed, have I hastened through the bent of my inclinations. (He stands apart.)

{Footnote 1: Polished off)—Ver. 98. From this passage it would seem that pains were taken to give the houses a smooth and polished appearance on the outside.}

{Footnote 2: Walls come tumbling down)—Ver. 114. Warner remarks that a sentiment not unlike this is found in Scripture, Ecclesiastes, x. 18: "By much slothfulness, the building decayeth; and through idleness of the hands the house droppeth through." It may be also observed that the passage is very similar to the words of the parable of the foolish man who built his house upon sand, St. Matthew, vii. 26: "And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon that house, and it fell; and great was the fall thereof."}

{Footnote 3: Find them some relation)—Ver. 127. In the first year of military service the Roman youths were placed under the tutelage of some relation or friend.}

{Footnote 4: In the arts of exercise)—Ver. 147. "Arte gymnastica." Literally, "in the gymnastic art."}

{Footnote 5: Lived a joyous life)—Ver. 148. "Victitabam volup." Lambinus suggests that the true reading here is "hand volup," "not voluptuously."}

SCENE III.—

Enter PHILEMATIUM and SCAPHA, with all the requisites for a toilet

PHILE. On my word, for this long time I've not bathed in cold water with more delight than just now; nor do I think that I ever was, my dear Scapha, more thoroughly cleansed than now.

SCA. May the upshot of everything be unto you like a plenteous year's harvest.

PHILE. What has this harvest got to do with my bathing?

SCA. Not a bit more than your bathing has to do with the harvest.

PHILO. (apart). O beauteous Venus, this is that storm of mine which stripped off all the modesty with which I was roofed; through which Desire and Cupid poured their shower into my breast; and never since have I been able to roof it in. Now are my walls soaking in my heart; this building is utterly undone.

PHILE. Do look, my Scapha, there's a dear, whether this dress quite becomes me. I wish to please Philolaches my protector, the apple of my eye.

SCA. Nay but, you set yourself off to advantage with pleasing manners, inasmuch as you yourself are pleasing. The lover isn't in love with a woman's dress, but with that which stuffs out {1}the dress.

PHILO. (apart). So may the Gods bless me, Scapha is waggish; the hussy's quite knowing. How cleverly she understands all matters, the maxims of lovers too!

PHILE. Well now? SCA. What is it?

PHILE. Why look at me and examine, how this becomes me.

SCA. Thanks to your good looks, it happens that whatever you put on becomes you.

PHILO. (apart). Now then, for that expression, Scapha, I'll make you some present or other to-day, and I won't allow you to have praised her for nothing who is so pleasing to me.

PHILE. I don't want you to flatter me.

SCA. Really you are a very simple woman. Come now, would you rather be censured undeservedly, than be praised with truth? Upon thy faith, for my own part, even though undeservedly, I'd much rather be praised than be found fault with with reason, or that other people should laugh at my appearance.

PHILE. I love the truth; I wish the truth to be told me; I detest a liar.

SCA. So may you love me, and so may your Philolaches love you, how charming you are.

PHILO. (apart). How say you, you hussy? In what words did you adjure? "So may I love her?" Why wasn't "So may she love me" added as well? I revoke the present. What I just now promised you is done for; you have lost the present.

SCA. Troth, for my part I am surprised that you, a person so knowing, so clever, and so well educated, are not aware that you are acting foolishly.

PHILE. Then give me your advice, I beg, if I have done wrong in anything.

SCA. I' faith, you certainly do wrong, in setting your mind upon him alone, in fact, and humouring him in particular in this way and slighting other men. It's the part of a married woman, and not of courtesans, to be devoted to a single lover.

PHILO. (apart). O Jupiter! Why, what pest is this that has befallen my house? May all the Gods and Goddesses destroy me in the worst of fashions, if I don't kill this old hag with thirst, and hunger, and cold.

PHILE. I don't want you, Scapha, to be giving me bad advice.

SCA. You are clearly a simpleton, in thinking that he'll for everlasting be your friend and well-wisher. I warn you of that; he'll forsake you by reason of age and satiety.

PHILE. I hope not.

SCA. Things which you don't hope happen more frequently than things which you do hope. In fine, if you cannot be persuaded by words to believe this to be the truth, judge of my words from facts; consider this instance, who I now am, and who I once was. No less than you are now, was I once beloved, and I devoted myself to one, who, faith, when with age this head changed its hue, forsook and deserted me. Depend on it, the same will happen to yourself.

PHILO. (apart). I can scarcely withhold myself from flying at the eyes of this mischief-maker.

PHILE. I am of opinion that I ought to keep myself alone devoted to him, since to myself alone has he given freedom for himself alone.

PHILO. (apart). O ye immortal Gods! what a charming woman, and of a disposition how chaste! By heaven, 'tis excellently done, and I'm rejoiced at it, that it is for her sake I've got nothing left.

SCA. On my word you really are silly.

PHILE. For what reason?

SCA. Because you care for this, whether he loves you.

PHILE. Prithee, why should I not care for it?

SCA. You now are free. You've now got what you wanted; if he didn't still love you, as much money as he gave for your liberty, he'd lose.

PHILO. (apart). Heavens, I'm a dead man if I don't torture her to death after the most shocking fashion. That evil-persuading enticer to vice is corrupting this damsel.

PHILE. Scapha, I can never return him sufficient thanks for what he deserves of me; don't you be persuading me to esteem him less.

SCA. But take care and reflect upon this one thing, if you devote yourself to him alone, while now you are at this youthful age, you'll be complaining to no purpose in your aged years.

PHILO. (apart). I could wish myself this instant changed into a quinsy, that I might seize the throat of that old witch, and put an end to the wicked mischief-maker.

PHILE. It befits me now to have the same grateful feelings since I obtained it, as formerly before I acquired it, when I used to lavish caresses upon him.

PHILO. (apart). May the Gods do towards me what they please, if for that speech I don't make you free over again, and if I don't torture Scapha to death.

SCA. If you are quite assured that you will have a provision to the end, and that this lover will be your own for life, I think that you ought to devote yourself to him alone, and assume the character of a wife {2}.

PHILE. Just as a person's character is, he's in the habit of finding means accordingly; if I keep a good character for myself I shall be rich enough.

PHILO. (apart). By my troth, since selling there must be, my father shall be sold much sooner than, while I'm alive, I'll ever permit you to be in want or go a-begging.

SCA. What's to become of the rest of those who are in love with you?

PHILE. They'll love me the more when they see me displaying gratitude to one who has done me services.

PHILO. (apart). I do wish that news were brought me now that my father's dead, that I might disinherit myself of my property, and that she might be my heir.

SCA. This property of his will certainly soon be at an end; day and night there's eating and drinking, and no one displays thriftiness; 'tis downright cramming {3}.

PHILO. (apart). I' faith, I'm determined to make trial on yourself for the first to be thrifty; for you shall neither eat nor drink anything at my house for the next ten days.

PHILE. If you choose to say anything good about him, you shall be at liberty to say it; if you speak otherwise than well, on my word you shall have a beating instantly.

PHILO. (apart). Upon my faith, if I had paid sacrifice to supreme Jove with that money which I gave for her liberty, never could I have so well employed it. Do see, how, from her very heart's core, she loves me! Oh, I'm a fortunate man; I've liberated in her a patron to plead my cause for me.

SCA. I see that, compared with Philolaches, you disregard all other men; now, that on his account I mayn't get a beating, I'll agree with you in preference, if you are quite satisfied that he will always prove a friend to you.

PHILE. Give me the mirror {4}, and the casket with my trinkets, directly, Scapha, that I may be quite dressed when Philolaches, my delight, comes here.

SCA. A woman who neglects herself and her youthful age has occasion for a mirror; what need of a mirror have you, who yourself are in especial a mirror for a mirror.

PHILO. (apart). For that expression, Scapha, that you mayn't have said anything so pretty in vain, I'll to-day give something for your savings—to you, my Philematium.

PHILE. (while SCAPHA is dressing her hair). Will you see that each hair is nicely arranged in its own place?

SCA. When you yourself are so nice, do believe that your hair must be nice.

PHILO. (apart). Out upon it! what worse thing can possibly be spoken of than this woman? Now the jade's a flatterer, just now she was all contradictory.

PHILE. Hand me the ceruse {5}.

SCA. Why, what need of ceruse have you?

PHILE. To paint my cheeks with it.

SCA. On the same principle, you would want to be making ivory white with ink.

PHILO. (apart). Cleverly said that, about the ink and the ivory! Bravo! I applaud you, Scapha.

PHILE. Well then, do you give me the rouge.

SCA. I shan't give it. You really are a clever one. Do you wish to patch up a most clever piece with new daubing? It's not right that any paint should touch that person, neither ceruse, nor quince-ointment, nor any other wash. Take the mirror, then. (Hands her the glass.)

PHILO. (apart.) Ah wretched me!—she gave the glass a kiss. I could much wish for a stone, with which to break the head of that glass.

SCA. Take the towel and wipe your hands.

PHILE. Why so, prithee?

SCA. As you've been holding the mirror, I'm afraid that your hands may smell of silver; lest Philolaches should suspect you've been receiving silver somewhere.

PHILO. (apart). I don't think that I ever did see anyone procuress more cunning. How cleverly and artfully did it occur to the jade's imagination about the mirror!

PHILE. Do you think I ought to be perfumed with unguents as well?

SCA. By no means do so. PHILE. For what reason?

SCA. Because, i' faith, a woman smells best {6} when she smells of nothing at all. For those old women who are in the habit of anointing themselves with unguents, vampt up creatures, old hags, and toothless, who hide the blemishes of the person with paint, when the sweat has blended itself with the unguents, forthwith they stink just like when a cook has poured together a variety of broths; what they smell of, you don't know, except this only, that you understand that badly they do smell.

PHILO. (apart). How very cleverly she does understand everything! There's nothing more knowing than this knowing woman! (To the AUDIENCE.) This is the truth, and a very great portion, in fact, of you know it, who have old women for wives at home who purchased you with their portions.

PHILE. Come now; examine my golden trinkets and my mantle; does this quite become me, Scapha?

SCA. It befits not me to concern myself about that.

PHILE. Whom then, prithee?

SCA. I'll tell you; Philolaches; so that he may not buy anything except that which he fancies will please you. For a lover buys the favours of a mistress for himself with gold and purple garments. What need is there for that which he doesn't want as his own, to be shown him still? Age is to be enveloped in purple; gold ornaments are unsuitable for a woman. A beautiful woman will be more beautiful naked than drest in purple. Besides, it's in vain she's well-drest if she's ill-conducted; ill-conduct soils fine ornaments worse than dirt. But if she's beauteous, she's sufficiently adorned.

PHILO. (apart). Too long have I withheld my hand. (Coming forward.) What are you about here?

PHILE. I'm decking myself out to please you.

PHILO. You are dressed enough. (To SCAPHA.) Go you hence indoors, and take away this finery. (SCAPHA goes into the house.) But, my delight, my Philematium, I have a mind to regale together with you.

PHILE. And, i' faith, so I have with you; for what you have a mind to, the same have I a mind to, my delight.

PHILO. Ha! at twenty minae that expression were cheap.

PHILE. Give me ten, there's a dear; I wish to let you have that expression bought a bargain.

PHILO. You've already got ten minae with you; or reckon up the account: thirty minae I gave for your freedom—

PHILE. Why reproach me with that?

PHILO. What, I reproach you with it? Why, I had rather that I myself were reproached with it; no money whatever for this long time have I ever laid out equally well.

PHILE. Surely, in loving you, I never could have better employed my pains.

PHILO. The account, then, of receipts and expenditure fully tallies between ourselves; you love me, I love you. Each thinks that it is so deservedly. Those who rejoice at this, may they ever rejoice at the continuance of their own happiness. Those who envy, let not any one henceforth be ever envious of their blessings.

PHILE. (pointing to a couch on the stage). Come, take your place, then. (At the door, to a SERVANT, who obeys.) Boy, bring some water for the hands; put a little table here. See where are the dice. Would you like some perfumes? (They recline on the couch.)

PHILO. What need is there? Along with myrrh I am reclining. But isn't this my friend who's coming hither with his mistress? 'Tis he; it's Callidamates; look, he's coming. Capital! my sweet one, see, our comrades are approaching; they're coming to share the spoil.

{Footnote 1: That which stuffs out)—Ver. 164. That is, the body.}

{Footnote 2: Assume the character of a wife)—Ver. 220. "Capiundos crines." Literally, "the hair mast be assumed." Festus says that it was usual on the occasion of the marriage ceremony, to add six rows of curls to the hair of the bride, in imitation of the Vestal virgins, who were patterns of purity, and were dressed in that manner. Hence the term "capere crines" came to signify "to become a wife."}

{Footnote 3: 'Tis downright cramming)—Ver. 230. "Sagina plane est." "Sagina" was the term applied to the fattening or cramming of animals for the purpose of killing. The use of the term implies Scapha'a notion of the bestial kind of life that Philolaches was leading.}

{Footnote 4: Give me the mirror)—Ver. 242. Probably a mirror with a handle, such as the servants usually held for their mistresses. There is something comical in the notion of a female coming out into the street to make her toilet.}

{Footnote 5: Hand me the ceruse)—Ver. 252. White lead, or "cerussa," was used by the Roman women for the purpose of whitening the complexion. Ovid mentions it in his Treatise on the Care of the Complexion, L 73.}

{Footnote 6: A woman smells best)—Ver. 267. Cicero and Martial have a similar sentiment; their opinion has been followed by many modern writers, and other persons as well.}

SCENE IV.—Enter CALLIDAMATES, at a distance, drunk, and DELPHIUM, followed by a SERVANT.

CALL. (to his SERVANT). I want you to come for me {1} in good time to the house of Philolaches; listen you; well then! those are your orders. (Exit SERVANT.) For from the place where I was, thence did I betake myself off; so confoundedly tired was I there with the entertainment and the discourse. Now I'll go to Philolaches to have a bout; there he'll receive us with jovial feelings and handsomely. Do I seem to you to be fairly drenched, my bubsy?

DEL. You ought always to live pursuing this course of life.

CALL. Should you like, then, for me to hug you, and you me? DEL. If you've a mind to do so, of course.

CALL. You are a charming one. (He stumbles.) Do hold me up, there's a dear.

DEL. (holding him by the arm). Take care you don't fall. Stand up.

CALL. O! you are the apple of my eye. I'm your fosterling, my honey. (He stumbles.)

DEL. (still holding him up). Only do take care that you don't recline in the street, before we get to a place where a couch is ready laid.

CALL. Do let me fall.

DEL. Well, I'll let you. (Lets go.)

CALL. (dragging her as he falls). But that as well which I've got hold of in my hand.

DEL. If you fall, you shan't fall without me falling with you. Then some one shall pick us both up as we lie. (Aside.) The man's quite drenched.

CALL. (overhearing). Do you say that I am drenched, my bubsy?

DEL. Give me your hand; I really do not want you hurt.

CALL. (giving his hand). There now, take it.

DEL. Come, move on with me.

CALL. Where am I going, do you know?

DEL. I know.

CALL. It has just come into my head: why, of course I'm going home for a booze.

DEL. Why yes, really now I do remember that.

PHILO. Won't you let me go to find them, my life? Of all persons I wish well to him especially. I'll return just now. (Goes forward towards the door.)

PHILE. That "just now" is a long time to me.

CALL. (going to the door and knocking). Is there any person here?

PHILO. 'Tis he.

CALL. (turning round). Bravo! Philolaches, good day to you, most friendly to me of all men.

PHILO. May the Gods bless you. (Pointing to a couch.) Take your place, Callidamates. (He takes his place.) Whence are you betaking yourself?

CALL. Whence a drunken man does.

PHILO. Well said. But, my Delphium, do take your place, there's a dear. (She takes her place on a couch.)

CALL. Give her something to drink. I shall go to sleep directly. (Nods and goes to sleep.)

PHILO. He doesn't do anything wonderful or strange. What shall I do with him then, my dear?

DEL. Let him alone just as he is.

PHILO. Come, you boy. Meanwhile, speedily pass the goblet round, beginning with Delphium.

{Footnote 1: You to come for me)—Ver. 306. Though none of the Editions say so, it is not improbable that this is said to Phaniscus, who, in the sequel, comes to fetch Callidamates home. The duties of the "adversitor" have been alluded to in a previous Note.}

SCENE V.—Enter TRANIO, at a distance.

TRA. (to himself). Supreme Jove, with all his might and resources, is seeking for me and Philolaches, my master's son, to be undone. Our hopes are destroyed; nowhere is there any hold for courage; not even Salvation {1} now could save us if she wished. Such an immense mountain of woe have I just now seen at the harbour: my master has arrived from abroad; Tranio is undone! (To the AUDIENCE.) Is there any person who'd like to make gain of a little money, who could this day endure to take my place in being tortured? Where are those fellows hardened to a flogging, the wearers-out of iron chains, or those, who, for the consideration of three didrachms, would get beneath besieging towers {2}, where some are in the way of having their bodies pierced with fifteen spears? I'll give a talent to that man who shall be the first to run to the cross for me; but on condition that twice his feet, twice his arms {3} are fastened there. When that shall have been done, then ask the money down of me. But am I not a wretched fellow, not at full speed to be running home?

PHILO. Here come the provisions; see, here's Tranio; he's come back from the harbour.

TRA. (running). Philolaches!

PHILO. What's the matter? TRA. Both I and you—

PHILO. What about "Both I and you?"

TRA. Are undone!

PHILO. Why so? TRA. Your father's here.

PHILO. What is it I hear of you?

TRA. We are finished up. Your father's come, I say.

PHILO. (starting up.) Where is he, I do entreat you?

TRA. He's coming.

PHILO. Coming? Who says so? Who has seen him?

TRA. I saw him myself, I tell you.

PHILO. Woe unto me! what am I about?

TRA. Why the plague now do you ask me, what you are about? Taking your place at table, of course.

PHILO. Did you see him? TRA. I my own self, I tell you.

PHILO. For certain? TRA. For certain, I tell you.

PHILO. I'm undone, if you are telling the truth.

TRA. What good could it be to me if I told a lie?

PHILO. What shall I do now?

TRA. (pointing to the table and couches). Order all these things to be removed from here. (Pointing.) Who's that asleep there?

PHILO. Callidamates. TRA. Arouse him, Delphium.

DEL. (bawling out in his ear). Callidamates! Callidamates! awake! CALL. (raising himself a little). I am awake; give me something to drink.

DEL. Awake; the father of Philolaches has arrived from abroad. CALL. I hope his father's well.

PHILO. He is well indeed; but I am utterly undone.

CALL. You, utterly undone? How can that be?

PHILO. By heavens! do get up, I beg of you; my father has arrived.

CALL. Your father has come? Bid him go back again. What business had he to come back here so soon?

PHILO. What am I to do? My father will, just now, be coming and unfortunately finding me amid drunken carousals, and the house full of revellers and women. It's a shocking bad job, to be digging a well at the last moment, just when thirst has gained possession of your throat; just as I, on the arrival of my father, wretch that I am, am now enquiring what I am to do.

TRA. (pointing at CALLIDAMATES). Why look, he has laid down his head and gone to sleep. Do arouse him.

PHILO. (shaking him). Will you awake now? My father, I tell you, will be here this instant.

CALL. How say you? Your father? Give me my shoes, that I may take up arms. On my word, I'll kill your father this instant.

PHILO. (seizing hold of him). You're spoiling the whole business; do hold your tongue. (To DELPHIUM.) Prithee, do carry him off in your arms into the house.

CALL. (To DELPHIUM, who is lifting him up). Upon my faith, I'll be making an utensil of you just now, if you don't find me one. (He is led off into the house.)

PHILO. I'm undone!

TRA. Be of good courage; I'll cleverly find a remedy for this alarm. PHILO. I'm utterly ruined!

TRA. Do hold your tongue; I'll think of something by means of which to alleviate this for you. Are you satisfied, if on his arrival I shall so manage your father, not only that he shall not enter, but even that he shall run away to a distance from the house? Do you only be off from here in-doors, and remove these things from here with all haste.

PHILO. Where am I to be? TRA. Where you especially desire: with her (pointing to PHILEMATIUM); with this girl, too, you'll be. (Pointing to DELPHIUM.)

DEL. How then? Are we to go away from here?

TRA. Not far from here, Delphium. For carouse away in the house not a bit the less on account of this.

PHILO. Ah me! I'm in a sweat with fear as to how these fine words are to end! TRA. Can you not be tranquil in your mind, and do as I bid you?

PHILO. I can be. TRA. In the first place of all, Philematium, do you go in-doors; and you, Delphium.

DEL. We'll both be obedient to you. (They go into the house.)

TRA. May Jupiter grant it so! Now then, do you give attention as to what I'd have attended to. In the first place, then, before anything, cause the house to be shut up at once. Take care and don't let any one whisper a word in-doors.

PHILO. Care shall be taken. TRA. Just as though no living being were dwelling within the house.

PHILO. Very well. TRA. And let no one answer, when the old gentleman knocks at the door.

PHILO. Anything else?

TRA. Order the master-key {4} of the house to be brought me at once from within; this house I'll lock here on the outside.

PHILO. To your charge I commit myself, Tranio, and my hopes. (He goes into the house, and the things are removed from the stage.)

TRA. (to himself). It matters not a feather whether a patron or a dependant is the nearest at hand for that man who has got no courage in his breast. For to every man, whether very good or very bad, even at a moment's notice, it is easy to act with craft; but this must be looked to, this is the duty of a prudent man, that what has been planned and done in craftiness, may all come about smoothly and without mishap; so that he may not have to put up with anything by reason of which he might be loth to live; just as I shall manage, that, from the confusion which we shall here create, all shall really go on smoothly and tranquilly, and not produce us any inconvenience in the results. (Enter a BOY, from the house.) But, why have you come out? I'm undone! (The BOY shows him the key.) O very well, you've obeyed my orders most opportunely.

BOY. He bade me most earnestly to entreat you some way or other to scare away his father, that he may not enter the house.

TRA. Even more, tell him this, that I'll cause that he shan't venture even to look at the house, and to take to flight, covering up his head {5} with the greatest alarm. Give me the key (taking it), and be off in-doors, and shut to the door, and I'll lock it on this side. (The BOY goes into the house, and TRANIO locks the door.) Bid him now come forthwith. For the old gentleman here while still alive this day will I institute games {6} in his presence, such as I fancy there will never be for him when he's dead. (Moving away.) I'll go away from the door to this spot; hence, I'll look out afar in which direction to lay the burden on the old fellow on his arrival. (Exit to a little distance.)

{Footnote 1: Not even Salvation)—Ver. 342. See the Captivi, 1. 535, and the Note to the passage.}

{Footnote 2: Beneath besieging towers)—Ver 348. "Falae" were wooden towers, placed on the top of walls or fortified places; of course the attack of these would imply extreme danger to those who attempted it.}

{Footnote 3: Twice his feet, twice his arms)—Ver. 351. Some suppose that by "bis pedes, bis brachia," he means that two nails were to be driven into each leg and foot. It seems more probable that he means two for the feet and two for the hands.}

{Footnote 4: Order the master-key)—Ver. 395. "Clavem—Laconicam;" literally, "the Laconian key." This was a kind of key originally invented by the Spartans, by means of which a door could be locked from the outside, but not from within. According to some, this key was called "Laconica," from its rough appearance, in allusion to the inelegant exterior of the Spartans. In his Thesmophoriazusae, Aristophanes informs us that these keys had three wards.}

{Footnote 5: Covering up his head)—Ver. 414. With the ancients, when either ashamed or alarmed at anything, it was the custom to throw a part of the dress over the head, as a hood.}

{Footnote 6: Will I institute games)—Ver. 417. He plays on the double meaning of "ludes," which means either "tricks," or "funeral games" in honor of the dead, according to the context.}

ACT II.—SCENE I.

Enter THEUROPIDES, followed by ATTENDANTS.

THEU. (to himself). Neptune, I do return extreme thanks to thee that thou hast just dismissed me from thee, though scarce alive. But if, from this time forward, thou shalt only know that I have stirred a foot upon the main, there is no reason why, that instant, thou shouldst not do with me that which thou hast now wished to do. Away with you, away with you from me henceforth for ever after to-day; what I was to entrust to thee, all of it have I now entrusted.

Enter TRANIO, overhearing him.

TRA. (apart). By my troth, Neptune, you've been much to blame, to have lost this opportunity so fair.

THEU. After three years, I've arrived home from Aegypt. I shall come a welcome guest to my household, I suppose.

TRA. (apart). Upon my faith, he might have come a much more welcome one, who had brought the tidings you were dead.

THEU. (looking at the door). But what means this? Is the door shut in the daytime? I'll knock. (Knocks at the door.) Hallo, there! is any one going to open this door for me?

TRA. (coming forward, and speaking aloud). What person is it that has come so near to our house?

THEU. Surely this is my servant Tranio.

TRA. O Theuropides, my master, welcome; I'm glad that you've arrived in safety. Have you been well all along?

THEU. All along, as you see.

TRA. That's very good.

THEU. What about yourselves? Are you all mad?

TRA. Why so?

THEU. For this reason; because you are walking about outside; not a born person is keeping watch in the house, either to open or to give an answer. With kicking with my feet I've almost broken in the panels?

TRA. How now? Have you been touching this house?

THEU. Why shouldn't I touch it? Why, with kicking it, I tell you, I've almost broken down the door.

TRA. What, you touched it?

THEU. I touched it, I tell you, and knocked at it.

TRA. Out upon you! THEU. Why so?

TRA. By heavens! 'twas ill done.

THEU. What is the matter? TRA. It cannot be expressed, how shocking and dreadful a mischief you've been guilty of.

THEU. How so?

TRA. Take to flight, I beseech you, and get away from the house. Fly in this direction, fly closer to me. (He runs towards TRANIO.) What, did you touch the door?

THEU. How could I knock, if I didn't touch it?

TRA. By all that's holy, you've been the death—

THEU. Of what person? TRA. Of all your family.

THEU. May the Gods and Goddesses confound you with that omen.

TRA. I'm afraid that you can't make satisfaction for yourself and them.

THEU. For what reason, or what new affair is this that you thus suddenly bring me news of?

TRA. And (whispering) hark you, prithee, do bid those people to move away from here. (Pointing to the ATTENDANTS of THEUROPIDES.)

THEU. (to the ATTENDANTS). More away from here.

TRA. Don't you touch the house. Touch you the ground {1}

as well. (Exeunt the ATTENDANTS.

THEU. I' faith, prithee, do speak out now.

TRA. Because it is now seven months that not a person has set foot within this house, and since we once for all left it.

THEU. Tell me, why so?

TRA. Just look around, whether there's any person to overhear our discourse.

THEU. (looking around). All's quite safe.

TRA. Look around once more.

THEU. (looking around). There's nobody; now then, speak out. TRA. (in a loud whisper). The house has been guilty of a capital offence {2}.

THEU. I don't understand you. TRA. A crime, tell you, has been committed there, a long while ago, one of olden time and ancient date.

THEU. Of ancient date?

TRA. 'Tis but recently, in fact, that we've discovered this deed.

THEU. What is this crime, or who committed it? Tell me.

TRA. A host slew his guest, seized with his hand: he, I fancy, who sold you the house.

THEU. Slew him?

TRA. And robbed this guest of his gold, and buried this guest there in the house, on the spot.

THEU. For what reason do you suspect that this took place?

TRA. I'll tell you; listen. One day, when your son had dined away from home, after he returned home from dining; we all went to bed, and fell asleep. By accident, I had forgotten to put out my lamp; and he, all of a sudden, called out aloud—

THEU. What person? My son?

TRA. Hist! hold your peace: just listen. He said that a dead man came to him in his sleep—

THEU. In his dreams, then, you mean?

TRA. Just so. But only listen. He said that he had met with his death by these means—

THEU. What, in his sleep?

TRA. It would have been surprising if he had told him awake, who had been murdered sixty years ago. On some occasions you are absurdly simple. But look what he said: "I am the guest of Diapontius, from beyond the seas; here do I dwell; this has been assigned me as my abode; for Oreus would not receive me in Acheron, because prematurely I lost my life. Through confiding was I deceived: my entertainer slew me here, and that villain secretly laid me in the ground without funereal rites, in this house, on the spot, for the sake of gold. Now do you depart from here; this house is accursed, this dwelling is defiled." The wonders that here take place, hardly in a year could I recount them. Hush, hush! (He starts.)

THEU. Troth now, what has happened, prithee?

TRA. The door made a noise. Was it he that was knocking?

THEU. (turning pale). I have not one drop of blood! Dead men are come to fetch me to Acheron, while alive!

TRA. (aside). I'm undone! those people there will mar my plot. (A noise is heard from within.) How much I dread, lest he should catch me in the fact.

THEU. What are you talking about to yourself? (Goes near the door.)

TRA. Do get away from the door. By heavens, fly, I do beseech you.

THEU. Fly where? Fly yourself, as well.

TRA. I am not afraid: I am at peace with the dead.

A VOICE (from within). Hallo! Tranio {3}.

TRA. (in a low voice, near the door). You won't be calling me, if you are wise. (Aloud, as if speaking to the APPARITION.) 'Tis not I that's guilty; I did not knock at the door.

THEU. Pray, what is it that's wrong? What matter is agitating you, Tranio? To whom are you saying these things?

TRA. Prithee, was it you that called me? So may the Gods bless me, I fancied it was this dead man expostulating because you had knocked at the door. But are you still standing there, and not doing what I advise you?

THEU. What am I to do? TRA. Take care not to look back. Fly; cover up your head!

THEU. Why don't you fly?

TRA. I am at peace with the dead.

THEU. I recollect. Why then were you so dreadfully alarmed just now?

TREA. Have no care for me, I tell you; I'll see to myself. You, as you have begun to do, fly as quick as ever you can; Hercules, too {4}, you will invoke.

THEU. Hercules, I do invoke thee! (Runs off.)

TRA. (to himself.) And I, as well, old fellow, that this day he'll send some heavy mishap upon you. O ye immortal Gods, I do implore your aid. Plague on it! what a mess I have got into to-day. (Exit.

{Footnote 1: Touch you the ground)—Ver. 457. The ancients were in the habit of reverentially touching the earth, when engaged in any affairs that related to the dead or the infernal Deities.}

{Footnote 2: Guilty of a capital offence)—Ver. 464. "Capitalis aedes facta est;" meaning that a murder had been committed in it.}

{Footnote 3: Hallo! Tranio)—Ver. 502. Weise's Edition gives these words to Theuropides. Rost, no doubt rightly, suggests that these words are spoken by Philolaches from inside (perhaps in a low voice, to ask Tranio how matters are going on). On this, Tranio turns it to good account, by pretending that the Ghost is calling out to him for his supposed impiety in daring to knock at the door.}

{Footnote 4: Hercules, too)—Ver. 514. Hercules having slain so many monsters, was naturally regarded as a Deity likely to give aid in extreme danger.}

ACT III.—SCENE I.

Enter a BANKER, at the end of the stage.

BAN. (to himself). I never knew any year worse for money upon interest, than this year has turned out to me. From morning even until night, I spend my time in the Forum; I cannot lend out a coin of silver to any one.

Enter TRANIO.

TRA. (apart). Now, faith, I am clearly undone in an everlasting way! The Banker's here who found the money with which his mistress was bought. The matter's all out, unless I meet him a bit beforehand, so that the old man may not at present come to know of this. I'll go meet him. But (seeing THEUROPIDES) I wonder why he has so soon betaken himself homeward again. I'm afraid that he has heard something about this affair. I'll meet him, and accost him. But how dreadfully frightened I am! Nothing is more wretched than the mind of a man with a guilty conscience, such as possesses myself. But however this matter turns out, I'll proceed to perplex it still further: so does this affair require.

Enter THEUROPIDES.

TRA. (accosting him). Whence come you?

THEU. I met that person from whom I bought this house.

TRA. Did you tell him anything about that which I was telling you?

THEU. I' faith, I certainly told him everything.

TRA. (aside). Woe to unfortunate me! I'm afraid that my schemes are everlastingly undone!

THEU. What is it you are saying to yourself?

TRA. Why nothing. But tell me, prithee, did you really tell him?

THEU. I told him everything in its order, I tell you.

TRA. Does he, then, confess about the guest?

THEU. Why no; he utterly denies it.

TRA. Does he deny it?

THEU. Do you ask me again? I should tell you if he had confessed it. What now are you of opinion ought to be done?

TRA. What is my opinion? By my troth, I beg of you, appoint an arbitrator together with him; but take you care that you appoint one who will believe me; you'll overcome him as easily as a fox eats a pear {1}

BAN. (to himself). But see, here's Tranio, the servant of Philolaches, people who pay me neither interest nor principal on my money. (Goes towards TRANIO, who steps forward to meet him.)

THEU. (to TRANIO). Whither are you betaking yourself?

TRA. I'm going no whither. (Aside.) For sure, I am a wretch, a rascal, one born with all the Gods my foes! He'll now be accosting me in the old man's presence. Assuredly, I am a wretched man; in such a fashion both this way and that do they find business for me. But I'll make haste and accost him. (Moves towards the BANKER.)

BAN. (apart). He's coming towards me. I'm all right; I've some hopes of my money; he's smiling.

TRA. (to himself). The fellow's deceived. (To the BANKER.) I heartily bid you hail, my friend Saturides {2}.

BAN. And hail to you. What about the money?

TRA. Be off with you, will you, you brute. Directly you come, you commence the attack {3} against me.

BAN. (apart). This fellow's empty-handed.

TRA. (overhearing him). This fellow's surely a conjurer.

BAN. But why don't you put an end to this trifling?

TRA. Tell me, then, what it is you want.

BAN. Where is Philolaches?

TRA. You never could have met me more opportunely than you have met me. BAN. How's that?

TRA. (taking him aside). Step this way.

BAN. (aloud). Why isn't the money repaid me?

TRA. I know that you have a good voice; don't bawl out so loud. BAN. (aloud). I' faith, I certainly shall bawl out.

TRA. O, do humour me now.

BAN. What do you want me to humour you in?

TRA. Prithee, be off hence home.

BAN. Be off? TRA. Return here about mid-day.

BAN. Will the interest be paid then?

TRA. It will be paid. Be off.

BAN. Why should I run to and fro here, or use or waste my pains? What if I remain here until mid-day in preference?

TRA. Why no; be off home. On my word, I'm telling the truth. Only do be off.

BAN. (aloud). Then do you pay me my interest. Why do you trifle with me this way?

TRA. Bravo! faith. Really now, do be off; do attend to me.

BAN. (aloud). I' faith, I'll call him now by name.

TRA. Bravo! stoutly done! Really you are quite rich now when you bawl out.

BAN. (aloud). I'm asking for my own. In this way you've been disappointing me for these many days past. If I'm troublesome, give me back the money; I'll go away then: That expression {4} puts an end to all replies.

TRA. (pretending to offer it him). Then, take the principal {5}.

BAN. (aloud). Why no, the interest; I want that first.

TRA. What? Have you, you fellow most foul of all fellows, come here to burst yourself? Do what lies in your power. He's not going to pay you; he doesn't owe it.

BAN. Not owe it?

TRA. Not a tittle, indeed, can you get from here. Would you prefer for him to go abroad, and leave the city in exile, driven hence for your sake? Why then, in preference let him pay the {6} principal.

BAN. But I don't ask for it.

THEU. (calling out to TRANIO, from a distance). Hark you! you whip-knave, come back to me.

TRA. (to THEUROPIDES). I'll be there just now. (To the BANKER.) Don't you be troublesome: no one's going to pay you; do what you please. You are the only person, I suppose, that lends money upon interest. (Moves towards THEUROPIDES.)

BAN. (bawling aloud). Give me my interest! pay me my interest! you pay my interest! Are you going to give me my interest this instant? Give me my interest!

TRA. Interest here, interest there! The old rogue knows how to talk about nothing but interest. I do not think that ever I saw any beast more vile than you.

BAN. Upon my faith, you don't alarm me now with those expressions. This is of a hot nature; although it is at a distance off, it scorches badly {7}.

TRA. Don't you be troublesome; no one's going to pay you; do what you please. You are the only person, I suppose, that lends money upon interest.

THEU. (to TRANIO). Pray, what interest is this that he is asking for?

TRA. (in a low voice, to the BANKER). Look now; his father has arrived from abroad, not long since; he'll pay you both, interest and principal; don't you then attempt any further to make us your enemies. See whether he puts you off.

BAN. Nay but, I'll take it, if anything's offered.

THEU. (to TRANIO, coming towards him). What do you say, then—? TRA. What is it you mean?

THEU. Who is this? What is he asking for? Why is he thus rudely speaking of my son Philolaches in this way, and giving you abuse to your face? What's owing him?

TRA. (to THEUROPIDES). I beg of you, do order the money to be thrown in the face of this dirty brute.

THEU. I, order it?

TRA. Order the fellow's face to be pelted with money.

BAN. (coming nearer). I could very well put up with a pelting with money.

THEU. (to TRANIO). What money's this?

TRA. Philolaches owes this person a little.

THEU. How much?

TRA. About forty minae.

BAN. (to THEUROPIDES). Really, don't think much of that; it's a trifle, in fact.

TRA. Don't you hear him? Troth now, prithee, doesn't he seem just suited to be a Banker—a generation that's most roguish?

THEU. I don't care, just now, for that, who he is or whence he is; this I want to be told me, this I very much wish to know—I heard from him that there was interest owing on the money as well.

TRA. Forty-four minae are due to him. Say that you'll pay it, that he may be off.

THEU. I, say that I'll pay it?

TRA. Do say so.

THEU. What, I?

TRA. You yourself. Do only say so. Do be guided by me. Do promise. Come now, I say; I beg of you.

THEU. Answer me; what has been done with this money?

TRA. It's safe.

THEU. Pay it yourselves then, if it's safe.

TRA. Your son has bought a house.

THEU. A house?

TRA. A house.

THEU. Bravo! Philolaches is taking after his father! The fellow now turns to merchandize. A house, say you?

TRA. A house, I tell you. But do you know of what sort?

THEU. How can I know?

TRA. Out with you!

THEU. What's the matter?

TRA. Don't ask me that.

THEU. But why so?

TRA. Bright as a mirror, pure brilliancy itself.

THEU. Excellently done, upon my faith! Well, how much did he agree to give for it?

TRA. As many great talents as you and I put together make; but these forty minae he paid by way of earnest. (Pointing to the BANKER.) From him he received what we paid the other man. Do you quite understand? {8} For after this house was in such a state as I mentioned to you, he at once purchased another house for himself.

THEU. Excellently done, upon my faith!

BAN. (touching TRANIO). Hark you. Mid-day is now close at hand.

TRA. Prithee, do dismiss this puking fellow, that he mayn't worry us to death. Forty-four minae are due to him, both principal and interest.

BAN. 'Tis just that much; I ask for nothing more.

TRA. Upon my faith, I really could have wished that you had asked more, if only by a single coin.

THEU. (to the BANKER). Young man, transact the business with me.

BAN. I'm to ask it of you, you mean?

THEU. Come for it to-morrow.

BAN. I'll be off, then; I'm quite satisfied if I get it tomorrow.

(Exit)

TRA. (aside). A plague may all the Gods and Goddesses send upon him! so utterly has he disarranged my plans. On my word, no class of men is there more disgusting, or less acquainted with fair dealing than the banking race.

THEU. In what neighbourhood did my son buy this house?

TRA. (aside). Just see that, now! I'm undone!

THEU. Are you going to tell me that which I ask you?

TRA. I'll tell you; but I'm thinking what was the name of the owner. (Pretends to think.)

THEU. Well, call it to mind, then.

TRA. (aside). What am I to do now, except put the lie upon this neighbour of ours next door? I'll say that his son has bought that house. I' faith, I've heard say that a lie piping-hot is the best lie; this is piping-hot; although it is at a distance off, it scorches badly. Whatever the Gods dictate, that am I determined to say.

THEU. Well now? Have you recollected it by this?

TRA. (aside). May the Gods confound that fellow!—no, this other fellow, rather. (To THEUROPIDES.) Your son has bought the house of this next-door neighbour of yours.

THEU. In real truth?

TRA. If, indeed, you are going to pay down the money, then in real truth; if you are not going to pay it, in real truth he has not bought it.

THEU. He hasn't bought it in a very good situation.

TRA. Why yes, in a very good one.

THEU. I' faith, I should like to look over this house; just knock at the door, and call some one to you from within, Tranio.

TRA. (aside). Why just look now, again I don't know what I'm to say. Once more, now, are the surges bearing me upon the self-same rock. What now? I' faith, I can't discover what I am now to do; I'm caught in the fact.

THEU. Just call some one out of doors; ask him to show us round.

TRA. (going to the door of SIMO's house). Hallo there, you! (Turning round.) But there are ladies here; we must first see whether they are willing or unwilling.

THEU. You say what's good and proper; just make enquiry, and ask. I'll wait here outside until you come out.

TRA. (aside). May all the Gods and Goddesses utterly confound you, old gentleman! in such a fashion are you thwarting my artful plans in every way. Bravo! very good! Look, Simo himself, the owner of the house, is coming out of doors. I'll step aside here, until I have convened the senate of council in my mind. Then, when I've discovered what I am to do, I'll join him. (THEUROPIDES and TRANIO stand at a distance from SIMO's house, in opposite directions, THEUROPIDES being out of sight.)

{Footnote 1: As a fox eats a pear)—Ver. 543. This may either mean, very easily indeed, or not at all. It is not clear that a fox will eat a pear; but if does, his teeth will go through it with the greatest ease. Not improbably, Tranio uses the expression for its ambiguity.}

{Footnote 2: Friend Saturides)—Ver. 552. A nickname coined by the author, from "satur," "brimful," of money, probably.}

{Footnote 3: Commence the attack)—Ver. 564. "Pilum injecisti." Literally, "you have thrown the dart." "To throw the dart" was a common expression, signifying to make the first attack;" as the darts were thrown before recourse was had to the sword.}

{Footnote 4: That expression)—Ver. 574. By "hoc verbum" he probably alludes to the expression, "reddite argentum," "down with the money."}

{Footnote 5: Take the principal)—Ver. 575. He finds he must say something, so he says this, although he has no money with him. He knows, however, that the usurer will first insist on the interest being paid, because if he takes the principal, it will be a legal waver of his right to claim the interest.}

{Footnote 6: Let him pay the)—Ver. 581. "Quin sortem potius dare licet?" is the reading here, in Weise's Edition; but the line seems hopelessly incorrect.}

{Footnote 7: It scorches badly)—Ver. 592. This line is given by Gruter to Theuropides, by Acidalius to Tranio, and by Lambinus to the Banker. The latter seems the most appropriate owner of it; and he probably alludes, aside, to the effects of his pressing in a loud voice for the money. Tranio is introduced as using the same expression, in l.650; but there can be no doubt that the line, as there inserted, is spurious.}

{Footnote 8: Do you quite understand)—Ver. 629. Warner suggests, that by using this expression before the Banker, he intends to make a secret of the house being haunted, and that he keeps up the mystery in the succeeding line.}

SCENE II.—Enter SIMO, from his house.

SIM. (to himself). I've not enjoyed myself better at home this year than I have to-day, nor has at any time any meal pleased me better. My wife provided a very nice breakfast for me; now she bids me go take a nap. By no means! It instantly struck me that it didn't so happen by chance. She provided a better breakfast than is her wont; and then, the old lady wanted to draw me away to my chamber. Sleep is not good {1} after breakfast—out upon it! I secretly stole away from the house, out of doors. My wife, I'm sure, is now quite bursting with rage at home.

TRA. (apart). A sore mischance is provided for this old fellow by the evening; for he must both dine and go to bed in-doors in sorry fashion.

SIM. (continuing). The more I reflect upon it in my mind: if any person has a dowried wife, sleep has no charms for him. I detest going to take a nap. It's a settled matter with me to be off to the Forum from here, rather than nap it at home. And, i' faith (to the AUDIENCE), I don't know how your wives are in their behaviour; this wife of mine, I know right well how badly she treats me, and that she will prove more annoying to me hereafter than she has been.

TRA. (apart). If your escape, old gentleman, turns out amiss, there'll be no reason for you to be accusing any one of the Gods; by very good right, you may justly lay the blame upon yourself. It's time now for me to accost this old fellow. 'Tis down upon him. {2} I've hit upon a plan whereby to cajole the old fellow, by means of which to drive grief {3} away from me. I'll accost him. (Accosting him.) May the Gods, Simo, send on you many blessings! (Takes him by the hand.)

SIM. Save you, Tranio! TRA. How fare you?

SIM. Not amiss. What are you about?

TRA. Holding by the hand a very worthy man.

SIM. You act in a friendly way, in speaking well of me.

TRA. It certainly is your due.

SIM. But, i' faith, in you I don't hold a good servant by the hand.

THEU. (calling from a distance, where he is not perceived by SIMO). Hark you! you whip-knave, come back to me.

TRA. (turning round). I'll be there just now.

SIM. Well now, how soon—?

TRA. What is it? SIM. The usual goings-on.

TRA. Tell me then, these usual goings-on, what are they?

SIM. The way that you yourselves proceed. But, Tranio, to say the truth, according as men are, it so befits you to humour them; reflecting, at the same time, how short life is.

TRA. What of all this? Dear me, at last, after some difficulty,

I perceive that you are talking about these goings-on of ours.

SIM. I' faith, you people are living a merry life, just as befits you: on wine, good cheer, nice dainty fish, you enjoy life.

TRA. Why yes, so it was in time past, indeed; but now these things have come to an end all at once. SIM. How so?

TRA. So utterly, Simo, are we all undone!

SIM. Won't you hold your tongue? Everything has gone on prosperously with you hitherto.

TEA. I don't deny that it has been as you say; undoubtedly, we have lived heartily, just as we pleased; but, Simo, in such a way has the breeze now forsaken our ship—

SIM. What's the matter? In what way?

TRA. In a most shocking way.

SIM. What, wasn't it hauled ashore {4} in safety?

TRA. Ah me! SIM. What's the matter?

TRA. Ah wretched me! I'm utterly undone!

SIM. How so? TRA. Because a ship has come, to smash the hull of our ship.

SIM. I would wish as you would wish, Tranio, for your own sake. But what is the matter? Do inform me.

TRA. I will inform you. My master has arrived from abroad.

SIM. In that case, the cord will be stretched for you; thence to the place where iron fetters clink; after that, straight to the cross.

TRA. Now, by your knees, I do implore you, don't give information to my master.

SIM. Don't you fear; he shall know nothing from me.

TRA. Blessings on you, my patron.

SIM. I don't care for clients of this description for myself.

TRA. Now as to this about which our old gentleman has sent me.

SIM. First answer me this that I ask you. As yet, has your old gentleman discovered anything of these matters?

TRA. Nothing whatever.

SIM. Has he censured his son at all?

TRA. He is as calm as the calm weather is wont to be. Now he has requested me most earnestly to beg this of you, that leave may be given him to see over this house of yours.

SIM. It's not for sale. TRA. I know that indeed; but the old gentleman wishes to build a woman's apartment {5} here in his own house, baths, too, and a piazza, and a porch.

SIM. What has he been dreaming of?

TRA. I'll tell you. He wishes to give his son a wife as soon as he can; for that purpose he wants a new apartment for the women. But he says that some builder, I don't know who, has been praising up to him this house of yours, as being remarkably well built; now he's desirous to take a model from it, if you don't make any objection—

SIM. Indeed, he is really choosing a plan for himself from a piece of poor workmanship.

TRA. It was because he heard that here the summer heat was much modified; that this house was wont to be inhabited each day all day long.

SIM. Why really, upon my faith, on the contrary, while there's shade in every direction, in spite of it, the sun is always here from morning till night: he stands, like a dun, continually at the door; and I have no shade anywhere, unless, perhaps, there may be some in the well.

TRA. Well now, have you one from Sarsina, if you have no woman of Umbria {6}?

SIM. Don't be impertinent. It is just as I tell you.

TRA. Still, he wishes to look over it.

SIM. He may look over it, if he likes. If there is anything that takes his fancy, let him build after my plan.

TRA. Am I to go and call this person hither?

SIM. Go and call him.

TRA. (to himself, as he goes to the other side of the stage to call THEUROPIDES). They say that Alexander the Great and Agathocles {7} achieved two very great exploits; what shall be the lot of myself, a third, who, unaided, am achieving deeds imperishable? This old fellow is carrying his pack-saddle, the other one, as well. I've hit upon a novel trade for myself, not a bad one; whereas muleteers have mules to carry pack-saddles; I've got men to carry the pack-saddles. They are able to carry heavy burdens; whatever you put upon them, they carry. Now, I don't know whether I am to address him. I'll accost him, however. (Calling aloud.) Hark you, Theuropides!

THEU. (coming forward). Well; who's calling me?

TRA. A servant most attached to his master. Where you sent me, I got it all agreed to.

THEU. Prithee, why did you stay there so long?

TRA. The old gentleman hadn't leisure; I was waiting until then.

THEU. You keep up that old way of yours, of being tardy.

TRA. Hark you! if you please reflect upon this proverb: to blow and swallow {8} at the same moment isn't easy to be done; I couldn't be here and there at the same time.

THEU. What now?

TRA. Come and look, and inspect it at your own pleasure.

THEU. Very well, you go before me.

TRA. Am I delaying to do so? THEU. I'll follow after you.

TEA. (as they advance). Look, the old gentleman himself is awaiting you before the door, but he is concerned that he has sold this house.

THEU. Why so?

TRA. He begs me to persuade Philolaches to let him off.

THEU. I don't think he will. Each man reaps on his own farm {9}. If it had been bought dear, we shouldn't have had permission to return it on his hands. Whatever profit there is, it's proper to bring it home. It don't, now-a-days, befit men to be showing compassion.

TRA. I' faith, you are losing time while you are talking. Follow me.

THEU. Be it so. TRA. (to THEUROPIDES). I'll give you my services. (Pointing.) There's the old gentleman. (To SIMO.) Well now, I've brought you this person.

SIM. I'm glad that you've arrived safely from abroad, Theuropides. THEU. May the Gods bless you.

SIM. Your servant was telling me that you were desirous to look over this house.

THEU. Unless it's inconvenient to you.

SIM. Oh no; quite convenient. Do step in-doors and look over it. THEU. (pausing). But yet—the ladies—

SIM. Take you care not to trouble yourself a straw about any lady. Walk in every direction, wherever you like, all over the house, just as though it were your own.

THEU. (apart to TRANIO). "Just as though—?"

TRA. (whispering). Oh, take care that you don't throw it in his teeth now in his concern, that you have bought it. Don't you see him, how sad a countenance the old gentleman has?

THEU. (apart). I see. TRA. (apart). Then don't seem to exult, and to be overmuch delighted; in fact, don't make mention that you've bought it.

THEU. (apart). I understand; and I think you've given good advice, and that it shows a humane disposition. (Turning to SIMO.) What now?

SIM. Won't you go in? Look over it at your leisure, just as you like.

THEU. I consider that you are acting civilly and kindly.

SIM. Troth, I wish to do so. Should you like some one to show you over.

THEU. Away with any one to show {10} me over. I don't want him. SIM. Why? What's the matter?

THEU. I'll go wrong, rather than any one should show me over.

TRA. (pointing). Don't you see, this vestibule before the house, and the piazza, of what a compass it is?

THEU. Troth, really handsome!

TRA. Well, look now, what pillars there are, with what strength they are built, and of what a thickness.

THEU. I don't think that I ever saw handsomer pillars.

SIM. I' faith, they were some time since bought by me at such a price!

TRA. (aside, whispering). Don't you hear—"They were once"? He seems hardly able to refrain from tears.

THEU. At what price did you purchase them?

SIM. I gave three minae for the two, besides the carriage. (He retires to some distance.)

THEU. (after looking close at them, to TRANIO). Why, upon my word, they are much more unsound than I thought them at first.

TRA. Why so? THEU. Because, i' faith, the woodworm has split them both from the bottom.

TRA. I think they were cut at an improper season; that fault damages them; but even as it is, they are quite good enough, if they are covered with pitch. But it was no foreign pulse-eating artisan {11} did this work. Don't you see the joints in the door? (Pointing.)

THEU. I see them. TRA. Look, how close together they are sleeping.

THEU. Sleeping? TRA. That is, how they wink, I intended to say. Are you satisfied?

THEU. The more I look at each particular, the more it pleases me.

TRA. (pointing). Don't you see the painting, where one crow {12} is baffling two vultures? The crow stands there; it's pecking at them both in turn. This way, look, prithee, towards me {13}, that you may be able to see the crow. (THEUROPIDES turns towards him.) Now do you see it?

THEU. (looking about). For my part, I really see no crow there.

TRA. But do you look in that direction, towards yourselves, since you cannot discover the crow, if perchance you may be able to espy the vultures. (THEUROPIDES turns towards SIMO.) Now do you see them?

THEU. Upon my faith, I don't see them.

TRA. But I can see two vultures.

THEU. To make an end of it with you, I don't see any bird at all painted here.

TRA. Well then, I give it up. I excuse you; it is through age you cannot see.

THEU. These things which I can see, really they do all please me mightily.

SIM. (coming forward). Now, at length, it's worth your while to move further on. THEU. Troth, you give good advice.

SIM. (calling at the door). Ho there, boy! take this person round this house and the apartments. But I myself would have shown you round, if I hadn't had business at the Forum.

THEU. Away with any one to show me over. I don't want to be shown over. Whatever it is, I'd rather go wrong than any one should show me over.

SIM. The house I'm speaking of.

THEU. Then I'll go in without any one to show me over.

SIM. Go, by all means.

THEU. I'll go in-doors, then.

TRA. (holding him back). Stop, please; let me see whether the dog—THEU. Very well then, look. (TRANIO looks into the passage.)

TRA. There is one. THEU. (looking in). Where is it?

TRA. (to the dog). Be off and be hanged! 'St, won't you be off to utter perdition with you? What, do you still linger? 'St, away with you from here!

SIM. (coming nearer to the door). There's no danger. You only move on. It's as gentle {14} as a woman in childbed. You may boldly step in-doors wherever you like. I'm going hence to the Forum.

THEU. You've acted obligingly. Good speed to you! (Exit SIMO.) Tranio, come, make that dog move away from the door inside, although it isn't to be feared.

TRA. Nay but (pointing), you look at it, how gently it lies. Unless you'd like yourself to appear troublesome and cowardly—

THEU. Very well, just as you like.

TRA. Follow me this way then.

THEU. For my part, I shall not move in any direction from your feet. (They go into the house.)

{Footnote 1: Sleep is not good)—Ver. 681. It was a custom with the Romans to take a nap at noon, after the "prandium." The modern Italians have the same practice, and call it the "siesta." Simo has his private reasons for thinking that this nap is not wholesome in his own case.}

{Footnote 2: Down upon him)—Ver. 698. "Hoc habet." Literally, "he has it;" a term used by the Spectators, when a gladiator received a wound at the gladiatoral games.}

{Footnote 3: By means of which to drive grief)—Ver. 699. He plays upon the resemblance of the words "dolo" and "dolorem."}

{Footnote 4: Wasn't it hauled ashore)—Vet. 723. It was the custom, when ships were not in use, especially in the winter time, to draw them up on chore, by means of rollers placed beneath them.}

{Footnote 5: A woman's apartment)—Ver. 741. "Gynaeceum." This was a name borrowed from the Greeks, for the apartments in the house which were especially devoted to the use of the females.}

{Footnote 6: No woman of Umbria)—Ver. 756. This is a poor pun upon the different acceptations of the word "umbra," which may signify, according to the context, "shade," or "a woman of Umbria." Simo means it in the former, while Tranio chooses to take it in the latter sense. Simo does not like this attempt at wit, and tells him not to be impertinent. We may here observe, that Plautus was born at Sarsina, a town of Umbria.}

{Footnote 7: Agathocles)—Ver. 761. Agathocles rose from the station of a potter to be king of Sicily.}

{Footnote 8: To blow and swallow)—Ver. 777. Or "exhale and inhale." A proverbial expression, very similar to that in use with us, that "a person cannot blow hot and cold at the same time."}

{Footnote 9: Reaps on his own farm)—Ver. 785. A country proverb, meaning "every one for himself."}

{Footnote 10: Away with any one to show)—Ver. 804. He says this, not liking the mention of the word "perductor," which, beside meaning an "attendant" or "one to escort," signifies a "pander" or "procurer." So in the next line, "perducto" means "to show over" or "to act the procurer."}

{Footnote 11: Foreign pulse-eating artisan)—Ver. 817. From the use of the word "pultiphagus," he probably alludes to Carthaginian workmen, who were very skilful at working in wood. In the Poenulus, Hanno the Carthaginian is called "patruus pultiphagonides," "the pulse-eating kinsman." If this is the meaning, it is pretty clear that he is not speaking in praise of the workmanship. Some, however, think that as, in early times, the lower classes at Rome lived upon "puls," "pap" or "pottage," the Scene being at Athens, Roman workmen are alluded to; if so, he may mean to speak in praise of the work, and to say that no bungling artists made the doors. See the Note in p. 355. The joints are said to wink, from the close conjunction of the eyelids in the act of winking.}

{Footnote 12: Where one crow)—Ver. 821. By the "crow," he means himself; and by the "vultures," the two old men. Simo is probably standing at some distance off; and knowing that his master's sight is not good, he feels that he may deride him with impunity.}

{Footnote 13: Towards me)—Ver. 822. "Ad me." Theuropides thinks he means, "in my direction;" whereas Tranio really means, "look 'at me,' and you will see the crow;" though he does not intend that his master shall take it in that sense.}

{Footnote 14: It's as gentle)—Ver. 840. This, probably, is intended to refer to the statue of a dog lying down in the vestibule, and not a real one. Pictures of dogs, with "cave canem" written beneath, were sometimes painted on the wall near the door.}

ACT IV.—SCENE I.

Enter PHANISCUS.

PHA. (to himself). Servants who, though they are free from fault, still stand in awe of punishment, those same are wont to be serviceable to their masters. But those who fear nothing, after they have merited punishment, hit upon foolish plans for themselves: they exercise themselves in running; they take to flight. But, if they are caught, they acquire from punishment a hoard, which by good means they cannot. They increase from a very little, and from that they lay by a treasure. The resolution that's in my mind is to be determined to be on my guard against punishment, before my back comes to lose its state of soundness. As hitherto it has been, so does it become my hide still to be, without a bruise, and such that I should decline its being beaten. If I have any control over it, I shall keep it well covered up {1}. When punishment is being showered down on others, don't let it be showered down on me. But as servants wish their master to be, such is he wont to be. He is good to the good, bad to the bad. But now at our house at home there do live so many rogues, lavish of their property {2}, bearers of stripes. When they are called to go fetch their master, "I shan't go; don't be plaguing me; I know where you are hurrying off to," is the reply. "Now, faith, you mule, you're longing to go to pasturage out of doors {3}." With better deserts, this advantage have I reaped from them, and, in consequence, I have come from home. I alone, out of so many servants, am going to fetch my master. When, to-morrow, my master comes to know this, in the morning he will chastise them with bull's-hide spoils. In fine, I care less for their backs than for my own. Much rather shall they be bull's-hide-scourged than I be rope-scourged {4}. (Moves on.)

Enter another SERVANT.

SER. Hold you and stop this instant. Phaniscus! look round, I say!

PHA. (not turning round). Don't be annoying to me.

SER. Do see how scornful the monkey is!

PHA. I am so for myself; I choose to be. Why do you trouble yourself about it? (Walking on.)

SER. Are you going to stop this instant, you dirty parasite? PHA. (turning round). How am I a parasite?

SER. Why, I'll tell you: you can be drawn anywhere by victuals. Do you give yourself airs, because your master's so fond of you?

PHA. (rubbing his eyes). O dear, my eyes do ache {5}.

SER. Why so?

PHA. Because the smoke's so troublesome.

SER. Hold your tongue, will you, you clever workman, who are in the habit of coining money out of lead {6}.

PHA. You cannot compel me to be abusive to you. My master knows me.

SER. Why, really, his own pillow {7} he ought to know, for resting on when drunk.

PHA. If you were sober, you wouldn't be abusive.

SER. Am I to give heed to you, when you won't to me?

PHA. But, you rascal, you come along with me to fetch him.

SER. Troth now, Phaniscus, prithee, do leave off talking about these matters.

PHA. I'll do so, and knock at the door. (Knocks at the door of the house of THEUROPIDES.) Hallo there! is there any person here to protect this door from a most serious injury? (Knocking again.) Is any one, is any one, I say, coming out here and going to open it? Why, really, no one comes out here. Just as befits such worthless fellows, so they are. But on that account, I've the more need to be cautious that no one may come out and use me ill. (They stand aside.)

{Footnote 1: Well covered up)—Ver. 865. He alludes to the practice of stripping disobedient slaves, for the purpose of flogging them.}

{Footnote 2: Lavish of their property)—Ver. 870. That is, of their backs.}

{Footnote 3: To pasturage out of doors)—Ver. 876. This was probably a proverbial phrase for going to the "thermopolium," the "hot liquor-shop" or "tippling-house," so much frequented by the slaves. See the Trinummus, 1. 1013, and the Note to the passage.}

{Footnote 4: bull's-hide-scourged—rope-scourged)—Ver. 882. "Bucaedae—restio." The latter word properly signifies "a ropemaker." The former is probably coined by Plautus.}

{Footnote 5: My eyes do ache)—Ver. 890. Phaniscus probably means to say, that the sight of him is as annoying to his eyes as smoke can be.}

{Footnote 6: Money out of lead)—Ver. 892. According to Erasmus, (Adagia Chil. v. Cent. 1,) this was a proverbial expression among the Romans, signifying the ability to put on a specious appearance.}

{Footnote 7: His own pillow)—Ver. 894. There is an indelicate allusion in this line; and another turn has been given to it in the Translation.}

SCENE II.—Enter TRANIO and THEUROPIDES, from the house of SIMO.

TRA. What's your opinion of this bargain?

THEU. I am quite delighted.

TRA. Does it seem to you to have been bought too dear?

THEU. I' faith, I'm sure that I never anywhere saw a house thrown away, this one only excepted.

TRA. Does it please you, then?

THEU. Does it please me, do you ask me? Why yes, upon my faith, it really does please me very much.

TRA. What a fine set of rooms for the women! What a porch!

THEU. Exceedingly fine. For my part, I don't think that there is any porch larger than this in the public buildings.

TRA. Why, I myself and Philolaches have taken the measure of all the porches in the public buildings.

THEU. Well, what then?

TRA. This is far larger than all of them.

THEU. Immortal Gods—a splendid bargain! On my word, if he were now to offer six great talents of silver, ready money, for it, I would never take it.

TRA. Upon my faith, if you were inclined to take it, I would never let you.

THEU. My money has been well invested upon this purchase.

TRA. Boldly confess that by my advice and prompting it was done, who urged him to take up the money of the Banker upon interest, which we paid this person by way of deposit.

THEU. You've saved the whole ship. Eighty minae {1}, you say, are owing for it?

TRA. Not a coin more. THEU. He may have it to-day.

TRA. By all means so, that there may be no dispute arising; or else pay them over to me, I'll then pay them over to him.

THEU. But still, don't let there be any taking me in, if I do give them to you.

TRA. Could I venture to deceive you in deed or word even in jest only?

THEU. Could I venture not to be on my guard against you, so as not to trust anything to you?

TRA. Why, have I ever imposed upon you in anything, since I was your servant?

THEU. But I've taken good care of that; I owe thanks to myself and my own judgment for that. If I'm only on my guard against you solely, I'm quite wise enough.

TRA. (aside). I agree with you.

THEU. Now be off into the country; tell my son that I've arrived.

TRA. I'll do as you wish.

THEIU. Run with all speed; bid him come to the city at once together with you.

TRA. Very well. (Aside.) Now I'll betake myself this way by the back-door to my boon-companions; I'll tell them that things are quiet here, and how I have kept him away from here. (Exit.

{Footnote 1: Eighty minae)—Ver. 919. Forty having been already paid (according to his story) as a deposit, and there being 120 minae in two talents.}

SCENE III.—THEUROPIDES, PHANISCUS, and another SERVANT.

PHA. (coming forward). Really, I don't hear either the sound of revellers here, as once it was, nor yet the music-girl singing, nor any one else. (Goes towards the door.)

THEU. What's the matter here? What are these people seeking at my house? What do they want? What are they peeping in for?

PHA. I shall proceed to knock at the door. (Knocks.)

Hallo there, unlock the door! Hallo, Tranio! are you going to open it, I say?

THEU. (advancing). What story's this, I wonder?

PHA. (aloud). Are you going to open it, I say? I've come to fetch my master Callidamates.

THEU. Harkye, you lads! what are you doing there? Why are you breaking down that door?

PHA. Our master's at a drinking-party here.

THEU. Your master at a drinking-party here?

PHA. I say so.

THEU. You're carrying the joke too far my lad.

PHA. We've come to fetch him.

THEU. What person? PHA. Our master. Prithee, how often must I tell you?

THEU. There's no one living here my lad; for I do think that you are a decent lad.

PHA. Doesn't a young gentleman called Philolaches live in this house?

SER. (aside). This old fellow's crack-brained, surely.

PHA. You are entirely mistaken, respected sir {1}; for unless he moved from here to-day or yesterday, I know for certain that he's living here.

THEU. Why, no one has been living here for these six months past.

SER. You are dreaming. THEU. What, I?

SER. You. THEU. Don't you be impertinent. Let me speak to the lad. (Pointing to PHANISCUS.)

PHA. No one lives there? O dear—

THEU. It's the fact.

PHA. Really! why, yesterday and the day before, four, five, six days ago, all along, in fact, since his father went abroad from here, eating and drinking have never ceased for a single three days here.

THEU. What is it you say?

PHA. That eating and drinking have never stopped for a single three days here, bringing in wenches, living like Greeks, hiring harpists and music-girls.

THEU. Who was it did this?

PHA. Philolaches.

THEU. What Philolaches?

PHA. He whose father I take to be Theuropides.

THEU. (apart). O dear, O dear! I'm utterly undone, if he says the truth in this. I'll continue to question him still. Do you say that this Philolaches, whoever he is, has been in the habit of drinking here together with your master?

PHA. Here, I tell you.

THEU. My lad, contrary to your appearance, you are a fool. See now, please, that you've not perchance been dropping in somewhere for an afternoon's whet {2}, and have been drinking there a little more than was enough.

PHA. What do you mean? THEU. Just what I say; don't be going by mistake to other persons' houses.

PHA. I know where I ought to go, and the place to which I was to come. Philolaches lives here, whose father is Theuropides; and who, after his father went away to trade, made free a music-girl here.

THEU. Philolaches, say you? PHA. Just so; Philematium, I mean.

THEU. For how much? SER. For thirty talents.

PHA. No, by Apollo {3}; you mean minae.

THEU. Do you say that a mistress was purchased for Philolaches for thirty minae?

PHA. I do say so. THEU. And that he gave her her freedom?

PHA. I do say so. THEU. And that after his father had departed hence abroad, he has been carousing here continually with your master?

PHA. I do say so. THEU. Well, has he made purchase of the house next door here?

PHA. I don't say so. THEU. Has he given forty minae, too, to this person, to be as a deposit?

PHA. Nor yet do I say so.

THEU. Ah me! you've proved my ruin!

PHA. Aye, and he has proved the ruin of his father.

THEU. You prophesy the truth! I could wish it false!

PHA. A friend of his father, I suppose?

THEU. Ah me! Upon my faith, you do pronounce him to be a wretched father.

PHA. Why really, this is nothing at all—thirty minae, in comparison with the other expenses he has incurred in good living. He has ruined his father. There's one servant there, a very great scoundrel, Tranio by name; he could even waste the revenue of a Hercules {4}. On my word, I'm sadly distrest for his father; for when he comes to know that things have gone on thus, a hot coal will be scorching his breast, poor man.

THEU. If, indeed, this is the truth.

PHA. What am I to gain, that I should tell a lie? (Knocks again at the door.) Hallo, you! is any one coming to open this door?

SER. Why do you knock in this way, when there's no one in the house?

PHA. I fancy that he's gone elsewhere to carouse. Now then, let's begone. (They move as if going.)

THEU. What, my lad, are you off then? Liberty's the overcoat for your back {5}.

PHA. Nothing have I with which to cover my back, except to pay respect and service to my master.

(Exeunt PHANISCUS and SERVANT.)

THEU. (to himself). By my troth, I am undone! What need is there of talking? According to the words I have heard, I surely haven't lately voyaged hence to Aegypt, but even to some desolate land and the most remote shores have I been borne about, so much am I at a loss to know where I now am. But I shall soon know; for see, here's the person of whom my son bought the house.

{Footnote 1: Respected sir)—Ver. 944. "Pater," Literally, "father."}

{Footnote 2: An afternoon's whet)—Ver. 958. "Merendam." According to some, this meal was the same as the "prandium," or "breakfast;" while others take it to have been a slight meal or luncheon, taken at about four or five in the afternoon.}

{Footnote 3: No, by Apollo)—Ver. 965. {Greek: Ma ton Apollo}. He uses a Greek adjuration.}

{Footnote 4: The revenue of a Hercules)—Ver. 976. It was the custom with many to devote to Hercules the tenth part of their possessions. Consequently, the revenues belonging to the Temples of this Deity would be especially large.}

{Footnote 5: The overcoat for your back)—Ver. 982. Schmieder thinks this is said insultingly to Phaniscus. It would, however, appear otherwise: Phaniscus having no "paenula," or "overcoat," on, Theuropides, who thinks him a very worthy fellow, says, "My good fellow, your freedom would make you a very fine overcoat." }

SCENE IV.—Enter SIMO.

THEU. What are you about?

SIM. I'm coming home from the Forum.

THEU. Has anything new been going on at the Forum to-day?

SIM. Why yes. THEU. What is it, pray?

SIM. I saw a dead man being carried to burial.

THEU. Dear me! that is something new!

SIM. I saw one who was dead being carried out to burial {1}. They said that he had been alive but just before.

THEU. Woe to that head of yours for your nonsense!

SIM. Why are you, thus idling about, enquiring after the news? THEU. Because I've just arrived from abroad.

SIM. I'm engaged out to dine: don't suppose I shall invite you {2}. THEU. I' faith, I don't want.

SIM. But, to-morrow, unless any person invites me first, I'll even dine with you.

THEU. I' faith, and that, too, I don't want. Unless you are engaged with something of greater importance, lend me your attention.

SIM. By all means. THEU. You have received, as far as I understand, forty minae of Philolaches.

SIM. Never a coin, so far as I know.

THEU. What? Not from my servant Tranio?

SIM. Much less is that the case.

THEU. Which he gave you by way of deposit?

SIM. What are you dreaming about?

THEU. What, I? Why, really, 'tis yourself, who hope that, by dissembling in this manner, you'll be able to make void this bargain.

SIM. Why, what do you mean? THEU. The business that, in my absence, my son transacted with you here.

SIM. How did your son, in your absence, transact any business with me? What pray, or on what day?

THEU. I owe you eighty minae of silver.

SIM. Not to me, indeed, upon my faith; but still, if you do owe them, give them me. Faith must be kept. Don't be attempting to deny it.

THEU. Assuredly, I shall not deny that I owe them; and I shall pay them. Do you take care how you deny that you received the forty from him.

SIM. Troth now, prithee, look this way at me, and answer me. He said that you were wishful to give a wife to your son; for that reason, he said that you intended building on your own premises.

THEU. I, intended building here? SIM. So he told me.

THEU. Ah me! I'm ruined outright! I've hardly any voice left {3}. Neighbours, I'm undone, ruined quite!

SIM. Has Tranio been causing any confusion?

THEU. Yes; he has thrown everything into confusion. He has made a fool of me to-day in a disgraceful manner.

SIM. What is it you say?

THEU. This matter is just as I am telling you; he has this day made a fool of me in an outrageous manner. Now I beseech you that you'll kindly aid me, and lend me your assistance.

SIM. What would you have?

THEU. I beg of you, come this way together with me.

SIM. Be it so. THEU. Lend me the assistance of your slaves and some scourges.

SIM. Take them by all means.

THEU. At the same time I'll tell you about this, in what a fashion he has this day imposed upon me. (They go into the house of SIMO.)

{Footnote 1: Being carried out to burial)—Ver. 991. It is supposed that in this reply he plays upon the question of Theuropides, who uses the word "processit" in his question, which may either mean, "what has been going on?" or "what procession has there been?"}

{Footnote 2: I shall invite you)—996. He alludes to the universal custom of giving friends a "coena viatica," or welcome entertainment, on arriving from off a journey.}

{Footnote 3: I've hardly any voice left)—Ver. 1019. "Vocis non habeo satis." Literally, "I have not voice enough."}

ACT V.—SCENE I.

Enter TRANIO.

TRA. (to himself). The man that shall prove timid in critical matters, will not be worth a nutshell. And, really, to say what that expression, "worth a nutshell," means, I don't know. But after my master sent me into the country to fetch his son hither, I went that way (pointing) slily through the lane to our garden. At the entrance to the garden that's in the lane, I opened the door; and by that road I led out all the troop, both men and women. After, from being in a state of siege, I had led out my troops to a place of safety, I adopted the plan of convoking a senate of my comrades, and when I had convoked it, they forthwith banished me from the senate. When I myself perceived that the matter must be decided by my own judgment, as soon as ever I could, I did the same as many others do, whose affairs are in a critical or a perplexed state; they proceed to render them more perplexed, so that nothing can be settled. But I know full well, that now by no means can this be concealed from the old man. But how's this, that our next neighbour's door makes a noise? Why, surely this is my master: I'd like to have a taste of his talk. (Goes aside, out of sight of THEUROPIDES.)

Enter THEUROPIDES, from SIMO'S house.

THEU. (in the doorway, speaking to SIMO'S SLAVES). Do you stand there, in that spot within the threshold; so that, the very instant I call, you may sally forth at once. Quickly fasten the handcuffs upon him. I'll wait before the house for this fellow that makes a fool of me, whose hide I'll make a fool of in fine style, if I live.

TRA. (apart). The affair's all out. Now it's best for you, Tranio, to consider what you are to do.

THEU. (to himself). I must go to work to catch him cleverly and artfully when he comes here. I'll not disclose to him my feelings all at once; I'll throw out my line; I'll conceal the fact that I know anything of these matters.

TRA. (apart). O cunning mortal! not another person in Athens can be pronounced more clever than he. One can no more this day deceive him than he can a stone. I'll accost the man; I'll address him.

THEU. (to himself). Now I do wish that he would come here.

TRA. (apart). I' faith, if me indeed you want, here I am ready at hand for you. (Comes forward.)

THEU. Bravo! Tranio, what's being done?

TRA. The country people are coming from the country: Philolaches will be here in a moment.

THEU. I' faith, he comes opportunely for me. This neighbour of ours I take to be a shameless and dishonest fellow.

TRA. Why so?

THEU. Inasmuch as he denies that he knows you.

TRA. Denies it? THEU. And declares that you never gave him a single coin of money.

TRA. Out with you, you are joking me, I do believe; he doesn't deny it.

THEU. How so? TRA. I am sure now that you are joking; for surely he doesn't deny it.

THEU. Nay but, upon my faith, he really does deny it; or that he has sold this house to Philolaches.

TRA. Well now, pray, has he denied that the money was paid him?

THEU. Nay more, he offered to take an oath to me, if I desired it, that he had neither sold this house, nor had any money him paid been. I told him the same that you told me.

TRA. What did he say? THEU. He offered to give up all his servants for examination.

TRA. Nonsense! On my faith, he never will give them up.

THEU. He really does offer them.

TRA. Why then, do you summon him to trial.

THEU. Wait a bit; I'll make trial as I fancy. I'm determined on it. TRA. Bring the fellow here to me.

THEU. What then, if I go fetch some men?

TRA. It ought to hare been done already; or else bid the young man to demand possession of the house.

THEU. Why no, I want to do this first—to put the servants under examination {1}.

TRA. I' faith, I think it ought to be done. Meantime, I'll take possession of this altar {2}. (Runs to the altar.)

THEU. Why so? TRA. You can understand nothing. Why, that those may not be able to take refuge here whom he shall give up for examination, I'll keep guard here for you; so that the examination may not come to nothing.

THEU. Get up from the altar. TRA. By no means.

THEU. Prithee, don't you take possession of the altar.

TRA. Why so?

THEU. You shall hear; why, because I especially want this, for them to be taking refuge there. Do let them; so much the more easily shall I get him fined before the judge.

TRA. What you intend to do, do it. Why do you wish to sow further strife? You don't know how ticklish a thing it is to go to law.

THEU. Just get up, (beckoning) this way; it's, then, to ask your advice upon something that I want you.

TRA. Still, as I am, I'll give my advice from this spot; my wits are much sharper when I'm sitting {3}. Besides, advice is given with higher sanction from holy places {4}.

THEU. Get up; don't be trifling. Just look me in the face. TRA. (looking at him). I am looking.

THEU. Do you see me? TRA. I do see—that if any third person were to step in here, he would die of hunger.

THEU. Why so? TRA. Because he would get no profit; for, upon my faith, we are both artful ones.

THEU. I'm undone! TRA. What's the matter with you?

THEU. You have deceived me. TRA. How so, pray?

THEU. You've wiped me clean {5}. TRA. Consider, please, if it wasn't well done; is your nose running still?

THEU. Aye, all my brains besides have you been wiping out of my head as well. For all your villanies I have discovered from their very roots; and not from the roots, indeed, i' faith, but even from beneath the very roots. Never this day, by my troth, will you have planned all this without being punished. I shall at once, you villain, order fire and faggots {6} to be placed around you.

TRA. Don't do it; for it's my way to be sweeter boiled than roasted.

THEU. Upon my faith, I'll make an example of you.

TRA. Because I please you, you select me for an example.

THEU. Say now: what kind of a person did I leave my son, when I went away from here?

TRA. One with feet and hands, with fingers, ears, eyes, and lips. THEU. I asked you something else than that.

TRA. For that reason I now answer you something else. But look, I see Callidamates, the friend of your son, coming this way. Deal with me in his presence, if you want anything.

{Footnote 1: Servants under examination)—Ver. 1073. "Quaestioni." "Examination by torture;" which was the method used by the Romans for extracting confessions from slaves.}

{Footnote 2: Take position of this altar)—Ver. 1074. When a person took refuge at an altar, he could not be brought to justice, or have violence offered to his person. According to some writers, there were always two altars on the stage of Comedy, one on the right hand, sacred to Apollo, and one on the left, devoted to that Divinity or Hero in honor of whom the Play was being acted.}

{Footnote 3: Sharper when I'm sitting)—1083. Warner suggests that a little raillery is intended here, upon the custom of sitting when dispensing justice and paying adoration to the Gods.}

{Footnote 4: With higher sanction from holy places)—Ver. 1084. The ancients made use of sacred places for the purpose of debating on affairs of importance in, as being likely to add weight and authority to their judgment. The Roman Senate often met in the Temples, and there administered justice and gate audience to ambassadors.}

{Footnote 5: You've wiped me clean)—Ver. 1089. "Emungo," "to wipe the nose" for a person, also meant "to cheat" or "impose upon him;" probably, by reason of the state of helplessness it implied in the party who was so treated.}

{Footnote 6: Order fire and faggots)—Ver. 1099. Though a suppliant could not be removed from the altar by force, still it was allowable to burn him away, by surrounding him with fire.}

SCENE II.—Enter CALLIDAMATES, at a distance.

CALL. (to himself). When I had buried all drowsiness {1}, and slept off the debauch, Philolaches told me that his father had arrived here from abroad; in what a way too his servant had imposed upon the man on his arrival; he said that he was afraid to come into his presence. Now of our company I am deputed sole ambassador, to obtain peace from his father. And look, most opportunely here he is. (Accosting THEUROPIDES.) I wish you health, Theuropides, and am glad that you've got back safe from abroad. You must dine here with us to-day. Do so.

THEU. Callidamates, may the Gods bless you. For your dinner I offer you my thanks.

CALL. Will you come then? TRA. (To THEUROPIDES.) Do promise him; I'll go for you, if you don't like.

THEU. Whip-scoundrel, laughing at me still?

TRA. What, because I say that I'll go to dinner for you?

THEU. But you shan't go. I'll have you carried to the cross, as you deserve.

TRA. Come, let this pass, and say that I shall go to the dinner. Why are you silent?

CALL. (to TRANIO). But why, you greatest of simpletons, have you taken refuge at the altar?

TRA. He frightened me on his arrival. (To THEUROPIDES.) Say now, what I have done amiss. Look, now there's an umpire for us both; come, discuss the matter.

THEU. I say that you have corrupted my son.

TRA. Only listen. I confess that he has done amiss; that he has given freedom to his mistress; that in your absence he has borrowed money at interest; that, I admit, is squandered away. Has he done anything different to what sons of the noblest families do?

THEU. Upon my faith, I must be on my guard with you; you are too clever a pleader.

CALL. Just let me be umpire in this matter. (To TRANIO.) Get up; I'll seat myself there.

THEU. By all means: take the management of this dispute to yourself. (Pushes him to one side of the altar.)

TRA. Why, this is surely a trick. Make me, then, not to be in a fright, and yourself to be in a fright in my stead.

THEU. I consider now everything of trifling consequence, compared with the way in which he has fooled me.

TRA. I' faith, 'twas cleverly done, and I rejoice that it was done. Those who have white heads ought at that age to be wiser.

THEU. What am I now to do if my friend Demipho or Philonides—

TRA. Tell them in what way your servant made a fool of you. You would be affording most capital plots for Comedies.

CALL. Hold your tongue awhile; let me speak in my turn.—Listen. THEU. By all means.

CALL. In the first place of all then, you know that I am the companion of your son; he has gone to my house, for he is ashamed to come into your presence, because he knows that you are aware what he has done. Now, I beseech you, do pardon his simplicity and youthfulness. He is your son; you know that this age is wont to play such pranks; whatever he has done, he has done in company with me. We have acted wrong: the interest, principal, and all the sum at which the mistress vas purchased, all of it we will find, and will contribute together, at our own cost, not yours.

THEU. No mediator could have come to me more able to influence me than yourself. I am neither angry with him {2}, nor do I blame him for anything: nay more, in my presence, wench on, drink, do what you please. If he's ashamed of this, that he has been extravagant, I have sufficient satisfaction.

CALL. I'm quite ashamed myself.

TRA. He grants pardon thus far; now then, what is to become of me?

THEU. Filth, tied up as you hang, you shall be beaten with stripes.

TRA. Even though I am ashamed {3}?

THEU. Upon my faith, I'll be the death of you, if I live!

CALL. Make this pardon general; do, pray, forgive Tranio this offence, for my sake.

THEU. I would more readily put up with your obtaining any other request of me than that I should forbear sending to perdition this fellow for his most villanous doings.

CALL. Pray, do pardon him. TRA. Do pardon me?

THEU. Look there, don't you see how the villain sticks there? (Pointing to the altar.)

CALL. Tranio, do be quiet, if you are in your senses.

THEU. Only do you be quiet in urging this matter. I'll subdue him with stripes, so that he shall be quiet.

CALL. Really, there is no need. Come now, do allow yourself to be prevailed upon.

THEU. I wish you would not request me.

CALL. Troth now, I do entreat you.

THEU. I wish you would not request me, I tell you.

CALL. It's in vain you wish me not; only do grant this one pardon for his offence, pray, for my sake, I do entreat you.

TRA. Why make this difficulty? As if to-morrow, I shouldn't be very soon committing some other fault; then, both of them, both this one and that, you'll be able to punish soundly.

CALL. Do let me prevail upon you.

THEU. Well then, have it so; begone, unpunished! (TRANIO jumps down from the altar.) There now, (pointing to CALLIDAMATES) return him thanks for it. (Coming forward.) Spectators, this Play is finished; grant us your applause {4}.

{Footnote 1: Buried all drowsiness)—Ver. 1102. Generally we hear of a person "being buried in sleep;" but Callidamates considers that a drunkard, when he awakes from his sleep, "buries slumber." It is not unlike the words of Shakspeare, in Macbeth: "Macbeth doth murder sleep!"}

{Footnote 2: Neither angry with him)—Ver. 1142. "Illi," "with him;" evidently meaning Philolaches.}

{Footnote 3: Though I am ashamed)—Ver. 1146. This piece of impudence is very characteristic of Tranio.}

{Footnote 4: Grant us your applause)—Ver. 1160. We may here remark that The Intriguing Chambermaid, one of Fielding's Comedies, is founded upon this entertaining Play.}

END

The Comedies of Terence

Translated

by

Henry Thomas Riley

&

George Colman

EUNUCHUS; THE EUNUCH.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

LACHES,[1] an aged Athenian.

PHÆDRIA,[2]  } his sons.

CHÆREA,[3]   }

ANTIPHO,[4] a young man, friend of Chærea.

CHREMES,[5] a young man, brother of Pamphila.

THRASO,[6] a boastful Captain.

GNATHO,[7] a Parasite.

PARMENO,[8] servant of Phædria.

SANGA,[9] cook to Thraso.

DONAX,[10]    }

SIMALIO,[11]  } servants of Thraso.

SYRISCUS,[12] }

DORUS,[15] a Eunuch slave.

THAIS,[13] a Courtesan.

PYTHIAS,[14] } her attendants.

DORIAS,[15]  }

SOPHRONA,[16] a nurse.

PAMPHILA,[17] a female slave.

_Scene._--Athens; before the houses of LACHES and THAIS.

THE SUBJECT.

A certain citizen of Athens had a daughter named Pamphila, and a son

called Chremes. The former was stolen while an infant, and sold to a

Rhodian merchant, who having made a present of her to a Courtesan of

Rhodes, she brought her up with her own daughter Thais, who was

somewhat older. In the course of years, Thais following her mother’s

way of life, removes to Athens. Her mother dying, her property is put

up for sale, and Pamphila is purchased as a slave by Thraso, an

officer and an admirer of Thais, who happens just then to be visiting

Rhodes. During the absence of Thraso, Thais becomes acquainted with

Phædria, an Athenian youth, the son of Laches; she also discovers from

Chremes, who lives near Athens, that Pamphila, her former companion,

is his sister. Thraso returns, intending to present to her the girl he

has bought, but determines not to do so until she has discarded

Phædria. Finding that the girl is no other than Pamphila, Thais is at

a loss what to do, as she both loves Phædria, and is extremely anxious

to recover Pamphila. At length, to please the Captain, she excludes

Phædria, but next day sends for him, and explains to him her reasons,

at the same time begging of him to allow Thraso the sole right of

admission to her house for the next two days, and assuring him that as

soon as she shall have gained possession of the girl, she will

entirely throw him off. Phædria consents, and resolves to spend these

two days in the country; at the same time he orders Parmeno to take to

Thais a Eunuch and an Æthiopian girl, whom he has purchased for her.

The Captain also sends Pamphila, who is accidentally seen by Chærea,

the younger brother of Phædria; he, being smitten with her beauty,

prevails upon Parmeno to introduce him into the house of Thais, in the

Eunuch’s dress. Being admitted there, in the absence of Thais, he

ravishes the damsel. Shortly afterward Thraso quarrels with Thais, and

comes with all his attendants to her house to demand the return of

Pamphila, but is disappointed. In conclusion, Pamphila is recognized

by her brother Chremes, and is promised in marriage to Chremes; while

Thraso becomes reconciled to Phædria, through the mediation of Gnatho,

his Parasite.

THE TITLE[18] OF THE PLAY.

Performed at the Megalensian Games; L. Posthumius Albinus and L.

Cornelius Merula being Curule Ædiles. L. Ambivius Turpio and L.

Atilius Præsnestinus performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius,

composed the music to two treble flutes. From the Greek of Menander.

It was acted twice,[19] M. Valerius and C. Fannius being Consuls.[20]

EUNUCHUS; THE EUNUCH.

THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.

The Captain, Thraso, being ignorant of the same, has brought {from

abroad} a girl who used wrongly to be called the sister of Thais, and

presents her to {Thais} herself: she {in reality} is a citizen of

Attica. To the same woman, Phædria, an admirer of Thais, orders a

Eunuch whom he has purchased, to be taken, and he himself goes away

into the country, having been entreated to give up two days to Thraso.

A youth, the brother of Phædria, having fallen in love with the damsel

sent to the house of Thais, is dressed up in the clothes of the

Eunuch. Parmeno prompts him; he goes in; he ravishes the maiden; but

{at length} her brother being discovered, a citizen of Attica,

betroths her who has been ravished, to the youth, {and} Thraso

prevails upon Phædria by his entreaties.

THE PROLOGUE.

If there is any one who desires to please as many good men as

possible, and to give offense to extremely few, among those does our

Poet enroll his name. Next, if there is one who thinks[21] that

language too harsh, is {here} applied to him, let him bear this in

mind-- that it is an answer, not an attack; inasmuch as he has himself

been the first aggressor; who, by translating {plays} verbally,[22]

and writing them in bad {Latin}, has made out of good Greek {Plays}

Latin ones by no means good. Just as of late he has published the

Phasma[23] [the Apparition] of Menander; and in the Thesaurus [the

Treasure] has described[24] him from whom the gold is demanded, as

pleading his cause why it should be deemed his own, before the person

who demands it {has stated} how this treasure belongs to him, or how

it came into the tomb of his father. Henceforward, let him not deceive

himself, or fancy thus, “I have now done with it; there’s nothing that

he can say to me.” I recommend him not to be mistaken, and to refrain

from provoking me. I have many other points, as to which for the

present he shall be pardoned, which, {however}, shall be brought

forward hereafter, if he persists in attacking me, as he has begun to

do. After the Ædiles had purchased the Eunuch of Menander, {the Play}

which we are about to perform, he managed to get an opportunity of

viewing it.[25] When the magistrates were present it began to be

performed. He exclaimed that a thief, no Poet, had produced the piece,

but still had not deceived[26] {him}; that, in fact, it was the Colax,

an old Play of Plautus;[27] {and} that from it were taken the

characters of the Parasite and the Captain. If this is a fault, the

fault is the ignorance of the Poet; not that he intended to be guilty

of theft. That so it is, you will now be enabled to judge. The Colax

is {a Play} of Menander’s; in it there is Colax, a Parasite, and a

braggart Captain: he does not deny that he has transferred these

characters into his Eunuch from the Greek; but assuredly he does deny

this, that he was aware that those pieces had been already translated

into Latin. But if it is not permitted {us} to use the same characters

as others, how can it any more be allowed to represent hurrying

servants,[28] to describe virtuous matrons, artful courtesans, the

gluttonous parasite, the braggart captain, the infant palmed off, the

old man cajoled by the servant, about love, hatred, suspicion? In

fine, nothing is said now that has not been said before. Wherefore it

is but just that you should know this, and make allowance, if the

moderns do what the ancients used to do. Grant me your attention, and

give heed in silence, that you may understand what the Eunuch means.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

_Enter PHÆDRIA and PARMENO._

PHÆD. What, then, shall I do?[29] Ought I not to go, not now even,

when I am sent for of her own accord? Or ought I rather so to behave

myself as not to put up with affronts from Courtesans? She shut her

door against me; she {now} invites me back. Ought I to return? No;

though she should implore me.

PAR. I’faith, if indeed you {only} can, there’s nothing better or more

spirited; but if you begin, and can not hold out stoutly, and if, when

you can not endure it, while no one asks you, peace being not made,

you come to her of your own accord, showing that you love her, and can

not endure it, you are done for; it’s all over {with you}; you are

ruined outright. She’ll be jilting you, when she finds you overcome.

Do you then, while there’s time, again and again reflect upon this,

master, that a matter, which in itself admits of neither prudence nor

moderation, you are unable to manage with prudence. In love there are

all these evils; wrongs, suspicions, enmities, reconcilements, war,

then peace; if you expect to render these things, {naturally}

uncertain, certain by dint of reason, you wouldn’t effect it a bit the

more than if you were to use your endeavors to be mad with reason.

And, what you are now, in anger, meditating to yourself, “What! I to

her?[30] Who-- him! Who-- me! Who wouldn’t? Only let me alone; I had

rather die; she shall find out what sort of a person I am;” these

expressions, upon my faith, by a single false tiny tear, which, by

rubbing her eyes, poor thing, she can hardly squeeze out perforce, she

will put an end to; and she’ll be the first to accuse you; and you

will be too ready to give satisfaction to her.

PHÆD. O disgraceful conduct! I now perceive, both that she is

perfidious, and that I am a wretched man. I am both weary of her, and

burn with passion; knowing {and} fully sensible, alive and seeing it,

I am going to ruin; nor do I know what I am to do.

PAR. What you are to do? Why, only to redeem yourself, {thus}

captivated, at the smallest price you can; if you can not at a very

small rate, still for as little as you can; and do not afflict

yourself.

PHÆD. Do you persuade me to this?

PAR. If you are wise. And don’t be adding to the troubles which love

itself produces; those which it does produce, bear patiently. But see,

here she is coming herself, the downfall of our fortunes,[31]-- for

that which we ought ourselves to enjoy she intercepts.

SCENE II.

_Enter THAIS from her house._

THAIS (_to herself, not seeing them._) Ah wretched me! I fear lest

Phædria should take it amiss or otherwise than I intended it, that he

was not admitted yesterday.

PHÆD. (_aside to PARMENO._) I’m trembling and shivering all over,

Parmeno, at the sight of her.

PAR. (_apart._) Be of good heart; {only} approach this fire,[32]

you’ll soon be warmer than you need.

THAIS (_turning round._) Who is it that’s speaking here? What, are you

here, my Phædria? Why are you standing here! Why didn’t you come into

the house at once?

PAR. (_whispering to PHÆDRIA._) But not a word about shutting you out!

THAIS. Why are you silent?

PHÆD. Of course, it’s because[33] this door is always open to me, or

because I’m the highest in your favor?

THAIS. Pass those matters by.

PHÆD. How pass them by? O Thais, Thais, I wish that I had equal

affection with yourself, and that it were in like degree, that either

this, might distress you in the same way that it distresses me, or

that I might be indifferent at this being done by you.

THAIS. Prithee, don’t torment yourself, my life, my Phædria. Upon my

faith, I did it, not because I love or esteem any person more {than

you}; but the case was such {that} it was necessary to be done.

PAR. (_ironically._) I suppose that, poor thing, you shut him out of

doors, for love, according to the usual practice.

THAIS. Is it thus you act, Parmeno? Well, well. (_To PHÆDRIA._) But

listen-- the reason for which I desired you to be sent for hither--

PHÆD. Go on.

THAIS. First tell me this; can this fellow possibly hold his tongue?

(_pointing to PARMENO._)

PAR. What, I? Perfectly well. But, hark you, upon these conditions I

pledge my word to you; the truth that I hear, I’m silent upon, and

retain it most faithfully; but if I hear what’s false and without

foundation, it’s out at once; I’m full of chinks, and leak in every

direction. Therefore, if you wish it to be kept secret, speak the

truth.

THAIS. My mother was a Samian; she lived at Rhodes--

PAR. That may be kept a secret.

THAIS. There, at that period, a certain merchant made present to my

mother of a little girl, who had been stolen away from Attica here.

PAR. What, a citizen?

THAIS. I think {so}; we do not know for certain: she herself used to

mention her mother’s and her father’s name; her country and other

tokens she didn’t know, nor, by reason of her age, was she able. The

merchant added this: that he had heard from the kidnappers that she

had been carried off from Sunium.[34] When my mother received her, she

began carefully to teach her every thing, {and} to bring her up, just

as though she had been her own daughter. Most persons supposed that

she was my sister. Thence I came hither with that stranger, with whom

alone at that period I was connected; he left me all which I {now}

possess--

PAR. Both these things are false; out it goes.

THAIS. How so?

PAR. Because you were neither content with one, nor was he the only

one to make you presents; for he likewise (_pointing to PHÆDRIA_)

brought a pretty considerable share to you.

THAIS. Such is the fact; but do allow me to arrive at the point I

wish. In the mean time, the Captain, who had begun to take a fancy to

me, set out to Caria;[35] since when, in the interval, I became

acquainted with you. You yourself are aware how very dear I have held

you; and how I confess to you all my nearest counsels.

PHÆD. Nor will Parmeno be silent about that.

PAR. O, is that a matter of doubt?

THAIS. Attend; I entreat you. My mother died there recently; her

brother is somewhat greedy after wealth. When he saw that this damsel

was of beauteous form and understood music, hoping for a good price,

he forthwith put her up for sale, {and} sold her. By good fortune this

friend of mine was present; he bought her as a gift to me, not knowing

or suspecting any thing of all this. He returned; but when he

perceived that I had formed a connection with you as well, he feigned

excuses on purpose that he might not give her; he said that if he

could feel confidence that he should be preferred to yourself by me,

so as not to apprehend that, when I had received her, I should forsake

him, {then} he was ready to give her to me; but that he did fear this.

But, so far as I can conjecture, he has set his affections upon the

girl.

PHÆD. Any thing beyond that?

THAIS. Nothing; for I have made inquiry. Now, my Phædria, there are

many reasons why I could wish to get her away from him. In the first

place, because she was called my sister; moreover, that I may restore

and deliver her to her friends. I am a lone woman; I have no one here,

neither acquaintance nor relative; wherefore, Phædria, I am desirous

by my good offices to secure friends. Prithee, do aid me in this, in

order that it may be the more easily effected. Do allow him for the

few next days to have the preference with me. Do you make no answer?

PHÆD. Most vile woman! Can I make you any answer after such behavior

as this?

PAR. Well done, my {master}, I commend you; (_aside_) he’s galled at

last. (_To PHÆDRIA._) You show yourself a man.

PHÆD. I was not aware what you were aiming at; “she was carried away

from here, {when} a little child; my mother brought her up as though

her own; she was called my sister; I wish to get her away, that I may

restore her to her friends.” The meaning is, that all these

expressions, in fine, now amount to this, {that} I am shut out, he is

admitted. For what reason? Except that you love him more than me: and

now you are afraid of her who has been brought {hither}, lest she

should win him, such as he is, from yourself.

THAIS. I, afraid of that?

PHÆD. What else, then, gives you concern? Let me know. Is he the only

person who makes presents? Have you found my bounty shut against you?

Did I not, when you told me that you wished for a servant-maid from

Æthiopia,[36] setting all other matters aside, go and seek for one?

Then you said that you wanted a Eunuch, because ladies of quality[37]

alone make use of them; I found {you one}. I yesterday paid twenty

minæ[38] for them both. Though slighted by you, I {still} kept these

things in mind; as a reward for so doing, I am despised by you.

THAIS. Phædria, what does this mean? Although I wish to get her away,

and think that by these means it could most probably be effected;

still, rather than make an enemy of you, I’ll do as you request me.

PHÆD. I {only} wish that you used that expression from your heart and

truthfully, “rather than make an enemy of you.” If I could believe

that this was said sincerely, I could put up with any thing.

PAR. (_aside._) He staggers; how instantaneously is he vanquished by a

single expression!

THAIS. I, wretched woman, not speak from my heart? What, pray, did you

ever ask of me in jest, but that you carried your point? I am unable

to obtain {even} this of you, that you would grant {me} only two days.

PHÆD. If, indeed, {it is but} two days; but don’t let these days

become twenty.

THAIS. Assuredly not more than two days, or--

PHÆD. “Or?” I won’t have it.

THAIS. It shall not be; only do allow me to obtain this of you.

PHÆD. Of course that which you desire must be done.

THAIS. I love you as you deserve; you act obligingly.

PHÆD. (_to PARMENO._) I shall go into the country; there I shall worry

myself for the {next} two days: I’m resolved to do so; Thais must be

humored. Do you, Parmeno, take care that they are brought hither.

PAR. Certainly.

PHÆD. For the next two days {then}, Thais, adieu.

THAIS. And the same to you, my Phædria; do you desire aught else?

PHÆD. What should I desire? That, present with the Captain, you may be

as if absent; that night and day you may love me; may feel my absence;

may dream of me; may be impatient for me; may think about me; may hope

for me; may centre your delight in me; may be all in all with me; in

fine, if you will, be my {very} life, as I am yours.

(_Exeunt PHÆDRIA and PARMENO._

SCENE III.

_THAIS alone._

THAIS, (_to herself._) Ah wretched me![39] perhaps now he puts but

little faith in me, and forms his estimate of me from the dispositions

of other women.[40] By my troth, I, who know my own self, am very sure

of this, that I have not feigned any thing that’s false, and that no

person is dearer to my heart than this {same} Phædria; and whatever in

the present case I have done, for {this} girl’s sake have I done it;

for I trust that now I have pretty nearly discovered her brother,

a young man of very good family; and he has appointed this day to come

to me at my house. I’ll go hence in-doors, and wait until he comes.

(_She goes into her house._)

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.

_Enter PHÆDRIA and PARMENO._

PHÆD. Mind that those people are taken {there}, as I ordered.

PAR. I’ll do {so}.

PHÆD. And carefully.

PAR. It shall be done.

PHÆD. And with all speed.

PAR. It shall be done.

PHÆD. Have you had sufficient instructions?

PAR. Dear me! to ask the question, as though it were a matter of

difficulty. I wish that you were able, Phædria, to find any thing as

easily as this present will be lost.

PHÆD. Together with it, I {myself} am lost, which concerns me more

nearly. Don’t bear this with such a feeling of vexation.

PAR. By no means; on the contrary, I’ll see it done. But do you order

any thing else?

PHÆD. Set off my present with words, as far as you can; and so far as

you are able, do drive away that rival {of mine} from her.

PAR. Pshaw! I should have kept that in mind, even if you hadn’t

reminded me.

PHÆD. I shall go into the country and remain there.

PAR. I agree with you. (_Moves as if going._)

PHÆD. But hark you!

PAR. What is it you want?

PHÆD. Are you of opinion that I can muster resolution and hold out so

as not to come back within the time?

PAR. What, you? Upon my faith, I don’t think {so}; for either you’ll

be returning at once, or by-and-by, at night, want of sleep will be

driving you hither.

PHÆD. I’ll do some {laborious} work, that I may be continually

fatigued, so as to sleep in spite of myself.

PAR. When wearied, you will be keeping awake; by this you will be

making it worse.

PHÆD. Oh, you talk to no purpose, Parmeno: this softness of spirit,

upon my faith, must be got rid of; I indulge myself too much. Could I

not do without her, pray, if there were the necessity, even for a

whole three days?

PAR. Whew! an entire three days! Take care what you are about.

PHÆD. My mind is made up. (_Exit._

SCENE II.

_PARMENO alone._

PAR. (_to himself._) Good Gods! What a malady is this! That a man

should become so changed through love, that you wouldn’t know him to

be the same person! Not any one was there[41] less inclined to folly

than he, and no one more discreet {or} more temperate. But who is it

that’s coming this way? Heyday! surely this is Gnatho, the Captain’s

Parasite; he’s bringing along with him the damsel as a present to her.

Heavens! How beautiful! No wonder if I make but a sorry figure here

to-day with this decrepit Eunuch of mine. She surpasses Thais herself.

(_Stands aside._)

SCENE III.

_Enter GNATHO at a distance, leading PAMPHILA._

GNA. (_to himself._) Immortal Gods! how much does one man excel

another! What a difference there is between a wise person and a fool!

This strongly came into my mind from the following circumstance. As I

was coming along to-day, I met a certain person of this place, of my

own rank and station, no mean fellow, one who, like myself, had

guttled away his paternal estate; I saw him, shabby, dirty, sickly,

beset with rags and years; --“What’s the meaning of this garb?” said

I; {he answered}, “Because, wretch that I am, I’ve lost what I

possessed: see to what I am reduced,-- all my acquaintances and

friends forsake me.” On this I felt contempt for him in comparison

with myself. “What!” said I, “you pitiful sluggard, have you so

managed matters as to have no hope left? Have you lost your wits

together with your estate? Don’t you see me, who have risen from the

same condition? What a complexion I have, how spruce and well dressed,

what portliness of person? I have every thing, {yet} have nothing; and

although I possess nothing, still, of nothing am I in want.” “But I,”

{said he}, “unhappily, can neither be a butt nor submit to blows.”[42]

“What!” {said I}, “do you suppose it is managed by those means? You

are quite mistaken. Once upon a time, in the early ages, there was a

calling for that class; this is a new mode of coney-catching; I, in

fact, have been the first to strike into this path. There is a class

of men who strive to be the first in every thing, but are not; to

these I make my court; I do not present myself to them to be laughed

at; but I am the first to laugh with them, and at the same time to

admire their parts: whatever they say, I commend; if they contradict

that self-same thing, I commend again. Does any one deny? I deny: does

he affirm? I affirm: in fine, I have {so} trained myself as to humor

them in every thing. This calling is now by far the most productive.”

PAR. (_apart._) A clever fellow, upon my faith! From being fools he

makes men mad outright.

GNA. (_to himself, continuing._) While we were thus talking, in the

mean time we arrived at the market-place; overjoyed, all the

confectioners ran at once to meet me; fishmongers,[43] butchers,

cooks,[44] sausage-makers, {and} fishermen, whom, both when my

fortunes were flourishing and when they were ruined, I had served, and

often serve {still}: they complimented me, asked me to dinner, {and}

gave me a hearty welcome. When this poor hungry wretch saw that I was

in such great esteem, and that I obtained a living so easily, then the

fellow began to entreat me that I would allow him to learn this

{method} of me; I bade him become my follower[45] if he could; as the

disciples of the Philosophers take their names from {the Philosophers}

themselves, so too, the Parasites ought to be called Gnathonics.

PAR. (_apart to the Audience._) Do you see the effects of ease and

feeding at another’s cost?

GNA. (_to himself, continuing._) But why do I delay to take this girl

to Thais, and ask her to come to dinner? (_Aside, on seeing PARMENO._)

But I see Parmeno, our rival’s servant, waiting before the door of

Thais with a sorrowful air; all’s safe; no doubt these people are

finding a cold welcome. I’m resolved to have some sport with this

knave.

PAR. (_aside._) They fancy that, through this present, Thais is

{quite} their own.

GNA. (_accosting PARMENO._) With his very best wishes Gnatho greets

Parmeno, his very good friend. --What are you doing?

PAR. I’m standing.[46]

GNA. {So} I perceive. Pray, do you see any thing here that don’t

please you?

PAR. Yourself.

GNA. I believe {you},-- but any thing else, pray?

PAR. Why so?

GNA. Because you are out of spirits.

PAR. Not in the least.

GNA. {Well}, don’t be {so}; but what think you of this slave?

(_pointing to her._)

PAR. Really, not amiss.

GNA. (_aside._) I’ve galled the fellow.

PAR. (_aside, on overhearing him._) How mistaken you are in your

notion!

GNA. How far do you suppose this gift will prove acceptable to Thais?

PAR. It’s this you mean to say now, that we are discarded there. Hark

you, there are vicissitudes in all things.

GNA. For the next six months, Parmeno, I’ll set you at ease; you

sha’n’t have to be running to and fro, or sitting up till daylight.

Don’t I make you happy?

PAR. Me? O prodigiously!

GNA. That’s my way with my friends.

PAR. I commend {you}.

GNA. I’m detaining you; perhaps you were about to go somewhere else.

PAR. Nowhere.

GNA. In that case then, lend me your services a little; let me be

introduced to her.

PAR. Very well; (_GNATHO knocks at the door, which immediately opens_)

now the door is open for you, (_aside_) because you are bringing her.

GNA. (_going into the house of THAIS, ironically._) Should you like

any one to be called out from here? (_Goes in with PAMPHILA, and shuts

the door._)

SCENE IV.

_PARMENO, alone._

PAR. (_to himself._) {Only} let the next two days go by; you who, at

present, in such high favor, are opening the door with one little

finger, assuredly I’ll cause to be kicking at that {door} full oft,

with your heels, to no purpose.

_Re-enter GNATHO from the house._

GNA. Still standing here, Parmeno? Why now, have you been left on

guard here, that no go-between might perchance be secretly running

from the Captain to her? (_Exit._

PAR. Smartly said; really {they ought to be} wonderful things to

please the Captain. But I see my master’s youngest son coming this

way; I wonder why he has come away from the Piraeus,[47] for he is at

present on guard there in the public service. It’s not for nothing;

he’s coming in a hurry, too; I can’t imagine why he’s looking around

in all directions.

SCENE V.

_Enter CHÆREA on the other side of the stage, in haste._

CHÆ. (_to himself._) I’m utterly undone! The girl is nowhere; nor do

I know where I am myself, to have lost sight of her. Where to inquire

for her, where to search for her, whom to ask, which way to turn, I’m

at a loss. I have only this hope; wherever she is, she can not long be

concealed. O what beauteous features! from this moment I banish all

other women from my thoughts; I can not endure these every-day

beauties.

PAR. (_apart._) Why look, here’s the other one. He’s saying something,

I don’t know what, about love. O unfortunate old man, {their father!}

This assuredly is a youth, who, if he does begin, you will say that

the other one was mere play and pastime, compared with what the

madness of this one will cause.

CHÆ. (_to himself, aloud._) May all the Gods and Goddesses confound

that old fellow who detained me to-day, and me as well who stopped for

him, and in fact troubled myself a straw about him. But see, here’s

Parmeno. (_Addressing him._) Good-morrow to you.

PAR. Why are you out of spirits, and why in {such} a hurry? Whence

come you?

CHÆ. What, I? I’faith, I neither know whence I’m come, nor whither I’m

going; so utterly have I lost myself.

PAR. How, pray?

CHÆ. I’m in love.

PAR. (_starting._) Ha!

CHÆ. Now, Parmeno, you may show what sort of a man you are. You know

that you often promised me {to this effect}: “Chærea, do you only find

some {object} to fall in love with; I’ll make you sensible of my

usefulness in such matters,” when I used to be storing up my father’s

provisions for you on the sly in your little room.[48]

PAR. To the point, {you} simpleton.

CHÆ. Upon my faith, this is the fact. Now, then, let your promises be

made good, if you please, or if indeed the affair is a deserving one

for you to exert your energies upon. The girl isn’t like our girls,

whom their mothers are anxious to have with shoulders kept down, {and}

chests well girthed,[49] that they may be slender. If one is a little

inclined to plumpness, they declare that she’s training for a

boxer,[50] {and} stint her food; although their constitutions are

good, by their treatment they make them as slight as bulrushes; and so

for that reason they are admired, {forsooth}.

PAR. What sort of a girl is this one of yours?

CHÆ. A new style of beauty.

PAR. (_ironically._) Astounding!

CHÆ. Her complexion genuine,[51] her flesh firm and full of

juiciness.[52]

PAR. Her age?

CHÆ. Her age? Sixteen.

PAR. The very flower of youth.[53]

CHÆ. Do you make it your care to obtain her for me either by force,

stealth, or entreaty; so that I only gain her, it matters not how to

me.

PAR. Well, but to whom does the damsel belong?

CHÆ. {That}, i’faith, I don’t know.

PAR. Whence did she come?

CHÆ. {That}, just as much.

PAR. Where does she live?

CHÆ. Nor yet do I know that.

PAR. Where did you see her?

CHÆ. In the street.

PAR. How did you come to lose her?

CHÆ. Why, that’s what I was just now fretting myself about; and I do

not believe that there is one individual to whom all good luck is a

greater stranger than to myself. What ill fortune this is! I’m utterly

undone!

PAR. What’s the matter?

CHÆ. Do you ask me? Do you know Archidemides, my father’s kinsman and

years’-mate?

PAR. Why not?

CHÆ. He, while I was in full pursuit of her, met me.

PAR. Unseasonably, upon my faith.

CHÆ. Aye, unhappily, rather; for other {ordinary} matters are to be

called “unseasonable,” Parmeno. It would be safe for me to make oath

that I have not seen him for fully these six or seven months, until

just now, when I least wanted, and there was the least occasion. Come

now! isn’t this like a fatality? What do you say?

PAR. Extremely {so}.

CHÆ. At once he came running up to me, from a considerable distance,

stooping, palsied, hanging his lip, {and} wheezing. “Halloo, Chærea!

halloo!” said he; “I’ve something to say to you.” I stopped. “Do you

know what {it is} I want with you?” {said he}. “Say on,” {said I}.

“To-morrow my cause comes on,” {said he}. “What then?” “Be sure and

tell your father to remember and be my advocate[54] in the morning.”

In talking of this, an hour elapsed.[55] I inquired if he wanted any

thing {else}. “That’s all,” said he. I left him. When I looked in this

direction for the damsel, she had that very instant turned thia way

down this street of ours.

PAR. (_aside._) It’s a wonder if he doesn’t mean her who has just now

been made a present of to {Thais here}.

CHÆ. When I got here, she was nowhere to be seen.

PAR. Some attendants, I suppose, were accompanying the girl?

CHÆ. Yes; a Parasite, and a female servant.

PAR. (_apart._) It’s the very same. (_To CHÆREA._) It’s all over with

you; make an end of it; you’ve said your last.[56]

CHÆ. You are thinking about something else.

PAR. Indeed I’m thinking of this same matter.

CHÆ. Pray, tell me, do you know her, or did you see her?

PAR. I did see, {and} I do know her; I am aware to what house she has

been taken.

CHÆ. What, my {dear} Parmeno, do you know her, and are you aware where

she is?

PAR. She has been brought here (_pointing_) to the house of Thais the

Courtesan.[57] She has been made a present to her.

CHÆ. What opulent person is it, to be presenting a gift so precious as

this?

PAR. The Captain Thraso, Phædria’s rival.

CHÆ. An unpleasant business for my brother, it should seem.

PAR. Aye, and if you did but know what present he is pitting against

this present, you would say so still more.

CHÆ. Troth now, what is it, pray?

PAR. A Eunuch.[58]

CHÆ. What! that unsightly creature, pray, that he purchased yesterday,

an old woman?

PAR. That very same.

CHÆ. To a certainty, the gentleman will be bundled out of doors,

together with his present; but I wasn’t aware that this Thais is our

neighbor.

PAR. It isn’t long {since she came}.

CHÆ. Unhappy wretch that I am! never to have seen her, even. Come now,

just tell me, is she as handsome as she is reported to be?[59]

PAR. Quite.

CHÆ. But nothing in comparison with this damsel of mine?

PAR. Another thing altogether.

CHÆ. Troth now, Parmeno, prithee do contrive for me to gain possession

of her.

PAR. I’ll do my best, and use all my endeavors; I’ll lend you my

assistance. (_Going._) Do you want any thing else with me?

CHÆ. Where are you going now?

PAR. Home; to take those slaves to Thais, as your brother ordered me.

CHÆ. Oh, lucky Eunuch that! really, to be sent as a present to that

house! PAR. Why so?

CHÆ. Do you ask? Ho will always see at home a fellow-servant of

consummate beauty, {and} he conversing with her; he will be in the

same house with her; sometimes he will take his meals with her;

sometimes sleep near her.

PAR. What now, if you yourself were to be this fortunate person?

CHÆ. By what means, Parmeno? Tell me.

PAR. Do you assume his dress.

CHÆ. His dress! Well, what then?

PAR. I’ll take you there instead of him.

CHÆ. (_musing._) I hear {you}.

PAR. I’ll say that you are he.

CHÆ. I understand {you}.

PAR. You may enjoy those advantages which you just now said he {would

enjoy}; you may take your meals together with her, be in company with

her, touch her, dally with her, {and} sleep by her side; as not one of

these women is acquainted with you, nor yet knows who you are.

Besides, you are of an age and figure that you may easily pass for a

eunuch.

CHÆ. You speak to the purpose; I never knew better counsel given.

Well, let’s go in at once; dress me up, take me away, lead me to her,

as fast as you can.

PAR. What do you mean? Really, I was only joking.

CHÆ. You talk nonsense.

PAR. I’m undone! Wretch that I am! what have I done? (_CHÆREA pushes

him along._) Whither are you pushing me? You’ll throw me down

presently. I entreat you, be quiet.

CHÆ. Let’s be off. (_Pushes him._)

PAR. Do you still persist?

CHÆ. I am resolved upon it.

PAR. Only take care that this isn’t too rash a project.

CHÆ. Certainly it isn’t; let me alone for that.

PAR. Aye, but I shall have to pay the penalty[60] for this?

CHÆ. Pshaw!

PAR. We shall be guilty of a disgraceful action.

CHÆ. What, is it disgraceful[61] to be taken to the house of a

Courtesan, and to return the compliment upon those tormentors who

treat us and our youthful age so scornfully, and who are always

tormenting us in every way;-- to dupe them just as we are duped by

them? Or is it right and proper that in preference my father should be

wheedled {out of his money} by deceitful pretexts? Those who knew of

this would blame me; while all would think the other a meritorious

act.

PAR. What’s to be done in such case? If you are determined to do it,

you must do it: but don’t you by-and-by be throwing the blame upon me.

CHÆE. I shall not do so.

PAR. Do you order me, {then}?

CHÆ. I order, charge, and command you; I will never disavow my

authorizing you.

PAR. Follow me; may the Gods prosper it! (_They go into the house of

LACHES._)

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

_Enter THRASO and GNATHO._

THRA. Did Thais really return me many thanks?

GNA. Exceeding {thanks}.

THRA. Was she delighted, say you?

GNA. Not so much, indeed, at the present itself, as because it was

given by you; really, in right earnest, she does exult at that.

_Enter PARMENO unseen, from LACHES’ house._

PAR. (_apart._) I’ve come here to be on the look-out, that when there

is an opportunity I may take {the presents}. But see, here’s the

Captain.

THRA. Undoubtedly it is the case with me, that every thing I do is a

cause for thankfulness.

GNA. Upon my faith, I’ve observed it.

THRA. The most mighty King,[62] even, always used to give me especial

thanks for whatever I did; but not so to others.

GNA. He who has the wit that you have, often by his words appropriates

to himself the glory that has been achieved by the labor of others.

THRA. You’ve just hit it.[63]

GNA. The king, then, kept you in his eye.[64]

THRA. Just so.

GNA. To enjoy your society.

THRA. True; he intrusted {to me} all his army, all his state secrets.

GNA. Astonishing!

THRA. Then if, on any occasion, a surfeit of society, or a dislike of

business, came upon him, when he was desirous to take some recreation;

just as though-- you understand?[65]

GNA. I know; just as though on occasion he would rid his mind of those

anxieties.

THRA. You have it. Then he used to take me aside as his only boon

companion.

GNA. Whew! You are telling of a King of refined taste.

THRA. Aye, he is a person of that sort; a man of but very few

acquaintanceships.

GNA. (_aside._) Indeed, of none,[66] I fancy, if he’s on intimate

terms with you.

THRA. All the people envied me, and attacked me privately. I don’t

care one straw. They envied me dreadfully; but one in particular, whom

{the King} had appointed over the Indian elephants.[67] Once, when he

became particularly troublesome, “Prithee, Strato,” said I, “are you

so fierce because you hold command over the wild beasts?”

GNA. Cleverly said, upon my faith, and shrewdly. Astounding! You did

give the fellow a home thrust. What said he?

THRA. Dumfounded, instantaneously.

GNA. How could he be otherwise?

PAR. (_apart._) Ye Gods, by our trust in you! a lost and miserable

fellow the one, and the other a scoundrel.

THRA. Well then, about that matter, Gnatho, the way in which I touched

up the Rhodian at a banquet-- did I never tell you?

GNA. Never; but pray, do tell me. (_Aside._) I’ve heard it more than a

thousand times already.

THRA. There was in my company at a banquet, this young man of Rhodes,

whom I’m speaking of. By chance I had a mistress there; he began to

toy with her, and to annoy me. “What are you doing, sir impudence?”

said I to the fellow; “a hare yourself, and looking out for game?”[68]

GNA. (_pretending to laugh very heartily._) Ha, ha, ha!

THRA. What’s the matter?

GNA. How apt, how smart, how clever; nothing {could be} more

excellent. Prithee, was this a saying of yours? I fancied it was an

old one.

THRA. Did you ever hear it before?

GNA. Many a time; and it is mentioned among the first-rate ones.

THRA. It’s my own.

GNA. I’m sorry {though} that it was said to a thoughtless young man,

and one of respectability.

PAR. (_apart._) May the Gods confound you!

GNA. Pray, what {did} he {do}?

THRA. Quite disconcerted. All who were present were dying with

laughter; in short, they were all quite afraid of me.

GNA. Not without reason.

THRA. But hark you, had I best clear myself of this to Thais, as to

her suspicion that I’m fond of this girl?

GNA. By no means: on the contrary, rather increase her jealousy.

THRA. Why so?

GNA. Do you ask me? Don’t you see, if on any occasion she makes

mention of Phædria or commends him, to provoke you----

THRA. I understand.

GNA. That such may not be the case, this method is the only remedy.

When she speaks of Phædria, do you instantly {mention} Pamphila. If at

any time she says, “Let’s invite Phædria to make one,” {do} you {say},

“Let’s {ask} Pamphila to sing.” If she praises his good looks, do you,

on the other hand, praise hers. In short, do you return like for like,

which will mortify her.

THRA. If, indeed, she loved me,[69] this might be of some use, Gnatho.

GNA. Since she is impatient for and loves that which you give her, she

already loves you; as it is, {then}, it is an easy matter for her to

feel vexed. She will be always afraid lest the presents which she

herself is now getting, you may on some occasion be taking elsewhere.

THRA. Well said; that never came into my mind.

GNA. Nonsense. You never thought about it; else how much more readily

would you yourself have hit upon it, Thraso!

SCENE II.

_Enter THAIS from her house, attended by PYTHIAS._

THAIS, (_as she comes out._) I thought I just now heard the Captain’s

voice. And look, here he is. Welcome, my {dear} Thraso.

THRA. O my Thais, my sweet one, how are you? How much do you love me

in return for that music girl?

PAR. (_apart._) How polite! What a beginning he has made on meeting

her!

THAIS. Very much, as you deserve.

GNA. Let’s go to dinner then. (_To THRASO._) What do you stand {here}

for?

PAR. (_apart._) Then there’s the other one: you would declare that he

was born for his belly’s sake.

THRA. When you please; I sha’n’t delay.

PAR. (_apart._) I’ll accost them, and pretend as though I had just

come out. (_He comes forward._) Are you going any where, Thais?

THAIS. Ha! Parmeno; well done; {just} going out for the day.

PAR. Where?

THAIS, (_aside, pointing at THRASO._) Why! don’t you see him?

PAR. (_aside._) I see him, and I’m sorry for it. (_Aloud._) Phædria’s

presents are ready for you when you please.

THRA. (_impatiently._) Why are we to stand {here}? Why don’t we be

off?

PAR. (_to THRASO._) Troth now, pray, do let us, with your leave,

present to her the things we intend, {and} accost and speak to her.

THRA. (_ironically._) Very fine presents, I suppose, or {at least}

equal to mine.

PAR. The fact will prove itself. (_Goes to the door of LACHES’ house

and calls._) Ho there! bid those people come out of doors at once, as

I ordered.

_Enter from the house a BLACK GIRL._

PAR. Do you step forward this way, (_To THAIS._) She comes all the way

from Æthiopia.

THRA. (_contemptuously._) Here are some three minæ in value.

GNA. Hardly so much.

PAR. Where are you, Dorus? Step this way.

_Enter CHÆREA from the house, dressed like the EUNUCH._

PAR. There’s a Eunuch for you-- of what a genteel appearance! of what

a prime age!

THAIS. God bless me, he’s handsome.

PAR. What say you, Gnatho? Do you see any thing to find fault with?

And what {say} you, Thraso? (_Aside._) They hold their tongues; they

praise him sufficiently {thereby}. (_To THAIS._) Make trial of him in

literature, try him in exercises,[70] and in music; I’ll warrant him

well skilled in what it becomes a gentleman to know.

THRA. That Eunuch, if occasion served,[71] even in my sober senses,

I--

PAR. And he who has sent these things makes no request that you will

live for him alone, and that for his own sake others may be excluded;

he neither tells of battles nor shows his scars, nor does he restrict

you as (_looking at THRASO_) a certain person does; but when it is not

inconvenient, whenever you think fit, whenever you have the time, he

is satisfied to be admitted.

THRA. (_to GNATHO, contemptuously._) It appears that this is the

servant of some beggarly, wretched master.

GNA. Why, faith, no person, I’m quite sure of that, could possibly put

up with him, who had the means to get another.

PAR. You hold your tongue-- a fellow whom I consider beneath all men

of the very lowest grade: for when you can bring yourself to flatter

that fellow (_pointing at THRASO_), I do believe you could pick your

victuals out of the {very} flames.[72]

THRA. Are we to go now?

THAIS. I’ll take these in-doors first (_pointing to CHÆREA and the

ÆTHIOPIAN_), and at the same time I’ll order what I wish; after that

I’ll return immediately. (_Goes into the house with PYTHIAS, CHÆREA,

and the SLAVE._)

THRA. (_to GNATHO._) I shall be off. Do you wait for her.

PAR. It is not a proper thing for a general to be walking in the

street with a mistress.

THRA. Why should I use many words with you? You are the very ape of

your master. (_Exit PARMENO._

GNA. (_laughing._) Ha, ha, ha!

THRA. What are you laughing at?

GNA. At what you were mentioning just now; that saying, too, about the

Rhodian, recurred to my mind. But Thais is coming out.

THRA. You go before; take care that every thing is ready at home.

GNA. Very well. (_Exit._

_Re-enter THAIS, with PYTHIAS and FEMALE ATTENDANTS._

THAIS. Take care, Pythias, and be sure that if Chremes should happen

to come,[73] to beg him to wait; if that is not convenient, then to

come again; if he can not do that, bring him to me.

PYTH. I’ll do so.

THAIS. Well, what else was I intending to say? O, do you take

particular care of that young woman; be sure that you keep at home.

THRA. Let us begone.

THAIS, (_to her attendants._) You follow me. (_Exeunt THAIS and

THRASO, followed by the Attendants. PYTHIAS goes into the house._)

SCENE III.

_Enter CHREMES._

CHREM. (_to himself._) Why, really, the more and more I think of it,

I shouldn’t be surprised if this Thais should be doing me {some} great

mischief; so cunningly do I perceive myself beset by her. Even on the

occasion when she first requested me to be fetched to her (any one

might ask me, “What business had you with her?” Really I don’t know.)

When I came, she found an excuse for me to remain there; she said that

she had been offering a sacrifice,[74] and that she was desirous to

speak upon some important business with me. Even then I had a

suspicion that all these things were being done for her artful

purposes. She takes her place beside me; pays every attention to me;

seeks an opportunity of conversation. When {the conversation} flagged,

she turned off to this point-- how long since my father and mother

died? I said that it was now a long time ago. Whether I had any

country-house at Sunium, and how far from the sea? I suppose that this

has taken her fancy, {and} she expects to get it away from me. Then at

last, whether any little sister of mine had been lost from there;

whether any person was with her; what she had about her when she was

lost; whether any one could recognize her. Why should she make these

inquiries? Unless, perhaps, she pretends-- so great is her assurance--

that she herself is the same person that was formerly lost when a

little girl. But if she is alive, she is sixteen years old, not older;

{whereas} Thais is somewhat older than I am. She has sent to press me

earnestly to come. Either let her speak out what she wants, or not be

troublesome; I assuredly shall not come a third time (_knocking at the

door of THAIS_). Ho! there, ho! there! Is any one here? It’s I,

Chremes.

SCENE IV.

_Enter PYTHIAS from the house._

PYTH. O most charming, dear creature!

CHREM. (_apart._) I said there was a design upon me.

PYTH. Thais entreated you most earnestly to come again to-morrow.

CHREM. I’m going into the country.

PYTH. Do, there’s a dear sir.

CHREM. I can not, I tell you.

PYTH. Then stay here at our house till she comes back.

CHREM. Nothing less likely.

PYTH. Why, my dear Chremes? (_Taking hold of him._)

CHREM. (_shaking her off._) Away to perdition with you!

PYTH. If you are so determined about it, pray do step over to the

place where she is.

CHREM. I’ll go {there}.

PYTH. (_calling at the door._) {Here}, Dorias (_DORIAS enters_), show

this person directly to the Captain’s.

(_Exit CHREMES with DORIAS, PYTHIAS goes into the house._

SCENE V.

_Enter ANTIPHO._

ANT. (_to himself._) Yesterday some young fellows of us agreed

together at the Piræus that we were to go shares today in a

club-entertainment. We gave Chærea charge of this matter; our rings

were given[75] as {pledges}; the place and time arranged. The time has

{now} gone by; at the place appointed there was nothing ready. The

fellow himself is nowhere {to be} met with; I neither know what to say

nor what to suppose. Now the rest have commissioned me with this

business, to look for him. I’ll go see, therefore, if he’s at home.

But who’s this, I wonder, coming out of Thais’s? Is it he, or is it

not? ’Tis the very man! What, sort of being is this? What kind of garb

is this? What mischief is going on now? I can not sufficiently wonder

or conjecture. But, whatever it is, I should like first at a distance

to try and find out. (_He stands apart._)

SCENE VI.

_Enter CHÆREA from the house of Thais, in the EUNUCH’S dress._

CHÆ. (_looking around, then aloud to himself._) Is there anybody here?

There’s no one. Is there any one following me from there? There’s not

a person. Now am I not at liberty to give vent to these raptures?

O supreme Jupiter! now assuredly is the time for me to meet my

death,[76] when I can so well endure it; lest my life should sully

this ecstasy with some disaster. But is there now no inquisitive

person to be intruding upon me, to be following me wherever I go, to

be deafening me, worrying me to death, with asking questions; why

{thus} transported, or why {so} overjoyed, whither I’m going, whence

I’m come, where I got this garb, what is my object, whether I’m in my

senses or whether downright mad?

ANT. (_apart._) I’ll accost him, and I’ll do him the favor which I see

he’s wishing for. (_Accosting him._) Chærea, why are you thus

transported? What’s the object of this garb? Why is it that you’re so

overjoyed? What is the meaning of this? Are you quite right in your

senses? Why do you stare at me? What have you to say?

CHÆ. O joyous day! O welcome, my friend! There’s not one in all the

world whom I would rather wish to see at this moment than yourself.

ANT. Pray, do tell me what all this means.

CHÆ. Nay rather, i’faith, I beg of you to listen to me. Do you know

the mistress whom my brother is so fond of?

ANT. I know her; I suppose you mean Thais?

CHÆ. The very same.

ANT. So far I recollect.

CHÆ. To-day a certain damsel was presented to her. Why now should I

extol or commend her beauty to you, Antipho, since you yourself know

how nice a judge of beauty I am? I have been smitten by her.

ANT. Do you say so?

CHÆ. If you saw her, I am sure you would say she’s exquisite. What

need of many words? I fell in love with her. By good luck there was at

our house a certain Eunuch, whom my brother had purchased for Thais,

and he had not as yet been sent to her. On this occasion, Parmeno, our

servant, made a suggestion to me, which I adopted.

ANT. What was it?

CHÆ. {Be} quiet, {and} you shall hear the sooner; to change clothes

with him, and order myself to be taken there in his stead.

ANT. What, instead of the Eunuch?

CHÆ. The fact.

ANT. To receive what advantage, pray, from this plan?

CHÆ. Do you ask? That I might see, hear, and be in company with her

whom I loved, Antipho. Is {that} a slight motive, or a poor reason?

I was presented to {the} woman. She, as soon as she received me,

joyfully took me home to her house and intrusted the damsel--

ANT. To whom? To you?

CHÆ. To me.

ANT. (_ironically._) In perfect safety, at all events.

CHÆ. She gave orders that we male was to come near her, and commanded

me not to stir away from her; that I was to remain alone with her in

the inner apartments.[77] Looking bashfully on the ground, I nodded

assent.

ANT. (_ironically._) Poor fellow!

CHÆ. (_continuing._) “I am going out,” said she, “to dinner.” She took

her maids with her; a few novices of girls[78] remained, to be about

her. These immediately made preparations for her to bathe. I urged

them to make haste. While preparations were being made, the damsel sat

in a room looking up at a certain painting,[79] in which was

represented how Jove[80] is said once to have sent a golden shower

into the bosom of Danaë. I myself began to look at it as well, and as

he had in former times played the like game, I felt extremely

delighted that a God should change himself into money, and slily come

through the tiles of another person’s house, to deceive the fair one

by means of a shower. But what God was {this}? He who shakes the most

lofty temples of heaven with his thunders. Was I, a poor creature of a

mortal,[81] not to do the same? Certainly, I was to do it, and without

hesitation. While I was thinking over these matters with myself, the

damsel meantime was fetched away to bathe; she went, bathed, and came

back; after which they laid her on a couch. I stood waiting to see if

they gave me any orders. One came up, “Here, Dorus,” said she, “take

this fan,[82] and let her have a little air in this fashion, while we

are bathing; when we have bathed, if you like, you may bathe too.”

With a demure air I took it.

ANT. Really, I should very much have liked to see that impudent face

of yours just then, and what figure a great donkey like you made,

holding a fan!

CHÆ. (_continuing._) Hardly had she said this, when all, in a moment,

betook themselves off: away they went to bathe, and chattered

aloud;[83] just as the way is when masters are absent. Meanwhile,

sleep overtook the damsel; I slily looked askance[84] through the

fan;[85] this way (_showing how_): at the same time I looked round in

all directions, to see whether all was quite safe. I saw that it was.

I bolted the door.

ANT. What then?

CHÆ. Eh? What then, {you} simpleton?

ANT. I own I am.

CHÆ. Was I to let slip the opportunity offered me, so excellent, so

short-lived,[86] so longed for, so unexpected. In that case, i’faith,

I really should have been the person I was pretending to be.

ANT. Troth, you certainly are in the right; but, meantime, what has

been arranged about the club-entertainment?

CHÆ. All’s ready.

ANT. You are a clever band; but where? At your house?

CHÆ. No, at Discus’s, our freedman.

ANT. That’s a long way off.

CHÆ. Then let’s make so much the greater haste.

ANT. Change your dress.

CHÆ. Where am I to change it? I’m at a loss; for at present I’m an

exile from home; I’m afraid of my brother, lest he should be in-doors:

and then again of my father, lest he should have returned from the

country by this.

ANT. Let’s go to my house; there is the nearest place for you to

change.

CHÆ. You say right. Let’s be off; besides, I want to take counsel with

you about this girl, by what means I may be able to secure the future

possession of her.

ANT. Very well. (_Exeunt._

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

_Enter DORIAS, with a casket in her hand._

DORIAS (_to herself._) So may the Gods bless me, but from what I have

seen, I’m terribly afraid that this mad fellow will be guilty of some

disturbance to-day or of some violence to Thais. For when this young

man, the brother of the damsel, arrived, she begged the Captain to

order him to be admitted; he immediately began to get into a passion,

and yet didn’t dare refuse; Thais still insisted that he would invite

the man in. This she did for the sake of detaining him; because there

was no opportunity {just then} of telling him what she wanted to

disclose about her sister. He was invited in, and took his seat. Then

she entered into discourse with him. But the Captain, fancying it was

a rival brought before his {very} eyes, wanted in his turn to mortify

her: “Hark you, boy,” said he, “go fetch Pamphila, that she may amuse

us here.” She exclaimed, “At a banquet! Certainly not.” The Captain

still persisted to a downright quarrel. Meanwhile my mistress secretly

took off her golden {jewels},[87] and gave them to me to take away:

this is a sign, I’m sure, that she’ll betake herself from there as

soon as she possibly can.

(_Goes into the house._)

SCENE II.

_Enter PHÆDRIA._

PHÆD. (_to himself._) While I was going[88] into the country, I began

on the road, as it mostly happens when there is any anxiety on the

mind, to reflect with myself upon one thing after another, and upon

every thing in the worst light. What need of words? While I was musing

thus, inadvertently I passed my country-house. I had already got some

distance from it, when I perceived this; I returned again, really

feeling quite uneasy; when I came to the very turning that leads to

{the house}, I came to a stop, {and} began to reason with myself;

“What! must I stay here alone for two days without her? Well, and what

then? It’s nothing at all. What? Nothing at all? Well now, if I

haven’t the privilege of touching her, am I not even to have that of

seeing her? If I may not do the one, at least I may the other. Surely

to love at a distance[89] {even}, is better than nothing at all.”

I purposely passed the house. But how’s this, that Pythias is suddenly

hurrying out in such a fright? (_Stands apart._)

SCENE III.

_Enter PYTHIAS and DORIAS in haste from the house of THAIS._

PYTH. (_aloud._) Where, wretch that I am, shall I find this wicked and

impious fellow? Or where look for him? That he should dare to commit

so audacious a crime as this! I’m ruined outright!

PHÆD. (_apart._) I dread what this may be.

PYTH. Besides, too, the villain, after he had abused the girl, rent

all the poor thing’s clothes, and tore her hair as well.

PHÆD. (_apart, in surprise._) Ha!

PYTH. If he were just now in my reach, how eagerly would I fly at that

villain’s eyes with my nails!

PHÆD. (_apart._) Really I can’t imagine what disturbance has happened

to us at home in my absence. I’ll accost them. (_Going up to them._)

What’s the matter? Why in such haste? Or whom are you looking for,

Pythias?

PYTH. Why, Phædria, whom should I be looking for? Away with you, as

you deserve, with such fine presents of yours.

PHÆD. What is the matter?

PYTH. What, do you ask? The Eunuch you gave us, what confusion he has

caused. He has ravished the girl whom the Captain made present of to

my mistress.

PHÆD. What is it you say?

PYTH. I’m ruined outright!

PHÆD. You are drunk.

PYTH. I wish that they were so, who wish ill to me.

DORIAS. Oh, prithee, my {dear} Pythias, what a monstrous thing this

is!

PHÆD. You are out of your senses. How could a Eunuch possibly do this?

PYTH. I know nothing about him: as to what he has done, the thing

speaks for itself. The girl is in tears; and when you ask her what’s

the matter, she does not dare tell. But he, a precious fellow, is

nowhere to be seen. To my sorrow I suspect too, that when he took

himself off he carried something away from the house.

PHÆD. I can not enough wonder, whither this varlet can possibly have

betaken himself to any distance from here; unless perhaps he has

returned home to our house.

PYTH. Pray, go and see whether he is there.

PHÆD. I’ll let you know immediately. (_Goes into the house of

LACHES._)

DORIAS. Ruined outright! Prithee, my dear, I never did so much as hear

of a deed so abominable!

PYTH. Why, faith, I had heard that they were extremely fond of the

women, but were incapable; unfortunately {what has happened} never

came into my mind; otherwise I should have shut him up somewhere, and

not have intrusted the girl to him.

SCENE IV.

_Enter PHÆDRIA from the house of LACHES, with DORUS in CHÆREA’S

clothes._

PHÆD. (_dragging him out._) Come out, you villain! What, do you lag

behind, you runaway? Out with you, you sorry bargain!

DORUS (_crying out._) Mercy, I do entreat you!

PHÆD. Oh, do look at that! How the villain distorts his face. What

means your coming back hither? Why this change of dress? What have you

to say? If I had delayed a moment, Pythias, I shouldn’t have found him

at home: he had just prepared, in this fashion, for flight. (_Pointing

at his dress._)

PYTH. Have you caught the fellow, pray?

PHÆD. Caught him, why not?

PYTH. O well done!

DORIAS. Upon my faith that really is capital!

PYTH. Where is he?

PHÆD. Do you ask the question? Don’t you see him? (_Pointing to the

EUNUCH._)

PYTH. (_staring about._) See whom, pray?

PHÆD. This fellow, to be sure (_pointing_).

PYTH. What person is this?

PHÆD. The same that was brought to your house to-day.

PYTH. Not one of our people has ever beheld this person with her eyes,

Phædria.

PHÆD. Not beheld him?

PYTH. Prithee, did you fancy that this was he who was brought to our

house?

PHÆD. Why, I had no other.

PYTH. O dear! this one really isn’t to be compared with the other. He

was of a handsome and genteel appearance.

PHÆD. He seemed {so}, just then, because he was decked out in

party-colored clothes:[90] now he appears ugly, for this reason--

because he hasn’t got them on.

PYTH. Prithee, do hold your tongue; as though indeed the difference

was so trifling. A young man was brought to our house to-day, whom,

really, Phædria, you would have liked to look upon. This is a

withered, antiquated, lethargic, old fellow, with a speckled

complexion.[91]

PHÆD. (_starting._) Hah! What tale is this? You’ll so be-fool me that

I sha’n’t know what I bought. (_To DORUS._) How now, sirrah, did I not

buy you?

DORUS. You did buy {me}.

PYTH. Bid him answer me in my turn.

PHÆD. Question {him}.

PYTH. (_to DORUS._) Did you come here to-day to our house? (_DORUS

shakes his head._) He says, no. But it was the other one that came,

about sixteen years of age; whom Parmeno brought with him.

PHÆD. (_to DORUS._) Well now, in the first place tell me this, where

did you get that dress that you have on? What, are you silent? Monster

of a fellow, are you not going to speak (_Shakes him._)

DORUS. Chærea came.

PHÆD. What, my brother?

DORUS. Yes.

PHÆD. When?

DORUS. To-day.

PHÆD. How long since?

DORUS. Just now.

PHÆD. With whom?

DORUS. With Parmeno.

PHÆD. Did you know him before?

DORUS. No.

PHÆD. How did you know he was my brother?

DORUS. Parmeno said he was. He gave me these clothes.

PHÆD. I’m undone!

DORUS. He himself put on mine; afterward, they both went out together.

PYTH. Now are you quite satisfied that I am sober, and that we have

told you no falsehood? Is it now sufficiently evident that the girl

has been ravished?

PHÆD. Avaunt, you beast, do you believe what he says?

PYTH. What is there to believe? The thing speaks for itself.

PHÆD. (_apart to DORUS._) Step aside a little this way. Do you hear?

(_DORUS steps aside._) A little further still. That will do. Now tell

me this once more; did Chærea take your clothes off you?

DORUS. He did.

PHÆD. And did he put them on?

DORUS. He did.

PHÆD. And was he brought here instead of you?

DORUS. Yes.

PHÆD. Great Jupiter! O wicked and audacious fellow!

PYTH. Woe unto me! Now at last will you believe that we have been

insulted in a disgraceful manner?

PHÆD. It is no wonder that you believe what the fellow says.

(_Aside._) What I’m to do I know not. (_Aside to DORUS._) Hark you,

deny {it all} again. (_Aloud._) Can I not this day extract the truth

from you? Did you {really} see my brother Chærea?

DORUS. No.

PHÆD. He can’t be brought to confess without being punished, I see:

follow me this way. At one moment he affirms, at another denies.

(_Aside._) Ask pardon of me.

DORUS. Indeed, I do entreat you, Phædria.

PHÆD. (_kicking him._) Be off in-doors.

DORUS. Oh! oh!

PHÆD. (_aside._) How in any other fashion to get decently out of this

I don’t know; for really it’s all up {with me}. (_Aloud, with

pretended indignation._) Will you be trifling with me even here, you

knave? (_Follows DORUS into the house._)

SCENE V.

_PYTHIAS and DORIAS._

PYTH. I’m as certain that this is the contrivance of Parmeno as that

I’m alive.

DORIAS. So it is, {no doubt}.

PYTH. I’faith, I’ll find out a method to-day to be even with him. But

now, what do you think ought to be done, Dorias?

DORIAS. Do you mean with regard to this girl?

PYTH. Yes; whether I ought to mention it or be silent?

DORIAS. Upon my word, if you are prudent, you won’t know what you do

know, either about the Eunuch or the girl’s misfortune. By this method

you’ll both rid yourself of all perplexity, and have done a service to

her.[92] Say this only, that Dorus has run away.

PYTH. I’ll do so.

DORIAS. But don’t I see Chremes? Thais will be here just now.

PYTH. Why so?

DORIAS. Because when I came away from there, a quarrel had just

commenced between them.

PYTH. Take in these golden {trinkets}; I shall learn from him what’s

the matter. (_DORIAS takes the casket into the house._)

SCENE VI.

_Enter CHREMES, somewhat drunk._

CHREM. Heyday! upon my faith, I’ve been bamboozled: the wine that I’ve

drunk has got the upper hand. But, so long as I was reclining, how

extremely sober I did seem to myself to be; when I got up, neither

feet nor senses were quite equal to their duty.

PYTH. Chremes!

CHREM. (_turning round._) Who’s that? What, Pythias; dear me, how much

more charming you now seem to me than a short time since!

PYTH. Troth now, you are much more merry, that’s certain.

CHREM. Upon my faith, it is a true saying, that “Venus grows cold

without Ceres and Bacchus.” But has Thais got here long before me?

PYTH. Has she already come away from the Captain’s?

CHREM. A long time ago; an age since. There has been a most violent

quarrel between them.

PYTH. Did she say nothing about you following her?

CHREM. Nothing at all; only, on going away, she gave me a nod.

PYTH. Well now, wasn’t that enough?

CHREM. Why, I didn’t know that she meant that, until the Captain gave

me an explanation, because I was dull of comprehension; for he bundled

me out of the house. But look, here she is; I wonder how it was I got

here before her.

SCENE VII.

_Enter THAIS._

THAIS. (_to herself._) I really do believe that he’ll be here

presently, to force her away from me. Let him come; but if he touches

her with a single finger, that instant his eyes shall be torn out.

I can put up with his impertinences and his high-sounding words, as

long as they remain words: but if they are turned into realities, he

shall get a drubbing.

CHREM. Thais, I’ve been here some time.

THAIS. O my {dear} Chremes, you are the very person I was wanting. Are

you aware that this quarrel took place on your account, and that the

whole of this affair, in fact, bore reference to yourself?

CHREM. To me? How so, pray?

THAIS. Because, while I’ve been doing my best to recover and restore

your sister to you, this and a great deal more like it I’ve had to put

up with.

CHREM. Where is she?

THAIS. At home, at my house.

CHREM. (_starting._) Hah!

THAIS. What’s the matter? She has been brought up in a manner worthy

of yourself and of her.

CHREM. What is it you say?

THAIS. That which is the fact. Her I present to you, nor do I ask of

you any return for her.

CHREM. Thanks are both felt and shall be returned in such way, Thais,

as you deserve.

THAIS. But still, take care, Chremes, that you don’t lose her, before

you receive her from me; for it is she, whom the Captain is now coming

to take away from me by force. Do you go, Pythias, and bring out of

the house the casket with the tokens.[93]

CHREM. (_looking down the side Scene._) Don’t you see him, Thais?

PYTH. (_to THAIS._) Where is it put?

THAIS. In the clothes’ chest. Tiresome {creature}, why do you delay?

(_PYTHIAS goes into the house._)

CHREM. What a large body of troops the Captain is bringing with him

against you. Bless me!

THAIS. Prithee, are you frightened, my {dear} sir?

CHREM. Get out with you. What, I frightened? There’s not a man alive

less so.

THAIS. Then now is the time to prove it.

CHREM. Why, I wonder what sort of a man you take me to be.

THAIS. Nay, and consider this too; the person that you have to deal

with is a foreigner;[94] of less influence than you, less known, and

one that has fewer friends here.

CHREM. I’m aware of that; but it’s foolish to run the risk of what you

are able to avoid. I had rather we should prevent it, than, having

received an injury, avenge ourselves upon him. Do you go in and fasten

the door, while I run across hence to the Forum; I should like us to

have the aid of some legal adviser in this disturbance. (_Moves, as if

going._)

THAIS. (_holding him._) Stay.

CHREM. Let me go, I’ll be here presently.

THAIS. There’s no occasion, Chremes. Only say that she is your sister,

and that you lost her {when} a little girl, {and} have now recognized

her; {then} show the tokens.

_Re-enter PYTHIAS from the house, with the trinkets._

PYTH. (_giving them to THAIS._) Here they are.

THAIS. (_giving them to CHREMES._) Take them. If he offers any

violence, summon the fellow to justice; do you understand me?

CHREM. Perfectly.

THAIS. Take care and say this with presence of mind.

CHREM. I’ll take care.

THAIS. Gather up your cloak. (_Aside._) Undone! the very person whom

I’ve provided as a champion, wants one himself. (_They all go into the

house._)

SCENE VIII.

_Enter THRASO, followed by GNATHO, SANGA, and other Attendants._

THRA. Am I to submit, Gnatho, to such a glaring affront as this being

put upon me? I’d die sooner. Simalio, Donax, Syriscus, follow me!

First, I’ll storm the house.

GNA. Quite right.

THRA. I’ll carry off the girl.

GNA. Very good.

THRA. I’ll give her own self a mauling.

GNA. Very proper.

THRA. (_arranging the men._) Advance hither to the main body, Donax,

with your crowbar; you, Simalio, to the left wing; you, Syriscus, to

the right. Bring up the rest; where’s the centurion Sanga, and his

maniple[95] of rogues?

SAN. (_coming forward._) See, here he is.

THRA. What, you booby, do you think of fighting with a dish-clout,[96]

to be bringing that here?

SAN. What, I? I knew the valor of the general, and the prowess of the

soldiers; {and} that this could not possibly go on without bloodshed;

how was I to wipe the wounds?

THRA. Where are the others?

SAN. Plague on you, what others? Sannio is the only one left on guard

at home.

THRA. (to GNATHO.) Do you draw up your men in battle order; I’ll be

behind the second rank;[97] from that position I’ll give the word to

all. (_Takes his place behind the second rank._)

GNA. (_aside._) That’s showing prudence; as soon as he has drawn them

up, he secures a retreat for himself.

THRA. (_pointing to the arrangements._) This is just the way Pyrrhus

used to proceed.[98]

_CHREMES and THAIS appear above at a window._

CHREM. Do you see, Thais, what plan he is upon? Assuredly, that advice

of mine about closing the door was good.

THAIS. He who now seems to you to be a hero, is in reality a mere

vaporer; don’t be alarmed.

THRA. (_to GNATHO._) What seems {best to you}?

GNA. I could very much[99] like a sling to be given you just now, that

you might pelt them from here on the sly at a distance; they would be

taking to flight.

THRA. (_to GNATHO._) But look (_pointing_), I see Thais there herself.

GNA. How soon are we to fall to?

THRA. Hold (_holding him back_); it behooves a prudent person to make

trial of every thing before arms. How do you know but that she may do

what I bid her without compulsion?

GNA. Ye Gods, by our trust in you, what a thing it is to be wise!

I never come near you but what I go away from you the wiser.

THRA. Thais, in the first place, answer me this. When I presented you

that girl, did you not say that you would give yourself up to me alone

for some days to come?

THAIS. Well, what then?

THRA. Do you ask the question? You, who have been and brought your

lover under my very eyes? What business had you with him? With him,

too, you clandestinely betook yourself away from me.

THAIS. I chose {to do so}.

THRA. Then give me back Pamphila; unless you had rather she were taken

away by force.

CHREM. Give her back to you, or you lay hands upon her? Of all the--

GNA. Ha! What are you about? Hold your tongue.

THRA. What do you mean? Am I not to touch my own?

CHREM. Your own, indeed, {you} gallows-bird![100]

GNA. (_to CHREMES._) Have a care, if you please. You don’t know what

kind of man you are abusing now.

CHREM. (_to GNATHO._) Won’t you be off from here? Do you know how

matters stand with you? If you cause any disturbance here to-day, I’ll

make you remember the place, and day, and me too, for the rest of your

life.

GNA. I pity you, who are making so great a man as this your enemy.

CHREM. I’ll break your head this instant if you are not off.

GNA. Do you really say so, puppy? Is it that you are at?

THRA. (_to CHREMES._) What fellow are you? What do you mean? What

business have you with her?

CHREM. I’ll let you know: in the first place, I assert that she is a

freeborn woman.

THRA. (_starting._) Ha!

CHREM. A citizen of Attica.

THRA. Whew!

CHREM. My own sister.

THRA. Brazen face!

CHREM. Now, therefore, Captain, I give you warning; don’t you use any

violence toward her. Thais, I’m going to Sophrona, the nurse, that I

may bring her here and show her these tokens.

THRA. What! Are you to prevent me from touching what’s my own?

CHREM. I will prevent it, I tell you.

GNA. (_to THRASO._) Do you hear him? He is convicting himself of

theft. Is not that enough for you?

THRA. Do you say the same, Thais?

THAIS. Go, find some one to answer you. (_She and CHREMES go away from

the window._)

THRA. (_to GNATHO._) What are we to do now?

GNA. Why, go back again: she’ll soon be with you, of her own accord,

to entreat forgiveness.

THRA. Do you think so?

GNA. Certainly, yes. I know the disposition of women: when you will,

they won’t; when you won’t, they set their hearts upon you of their

own inclination.

THRA. You judge right.

GNA. Shall I dismiss the army then?

THRA. Whenever you like.

GNA. Sanga, as befits gallant soldiers,[101] take care in your turn to

remember your homes and hearths.

SAN. My thoughts have been for some time among the sauce-pans.

GNA. You are a worthy fellow.

THRA. (_putting himself at their head._) You follow me this way.

(_Exeunt omnes._

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

_Enter THAIS from her house, followed by PYTHIAS._

THAIS. What! do you persist, hussy, in talking ambiguously to me? “I

do know;” “I don’t know;” “he has gone off;” “I have heard;” “I wasn’t

there.” Don’t you mean to tell me plainly, whatever it is? The girl in

tears, with her garments torn, is mute; the Eunuch is off: for what

reason? What has happened? Won’t you speak?

PYTH. Wretch that I am, what am I to say to you? They declare that he

was not a Eunuch.

THAIS. What was he then?

PYTH. That Chærea.

THAIS. What Chærea?

PYTH. That stripling, the brother of Phædria.

THAIS. What’s that you say, you hag?

PYTH. And I am satisfied of it.

THAIS. Pray, what business had he at my house? What brought him there?

PYTH. I don’t know; unless, as I suppose, he was in love with

Pamphila.

THAIS. Alas! to my confusion, unhappy woman that I am, I’m undone, if

what you tell me is true. Is it about this that the girl is crying?

PYTH. I believe so.

THAIS. How say you, you arch-jade? Did I not warn you about this very

thing, when I was going away from here?

PYTH. What could I do? Just as you ordered, she was intrusted to his

care only.

THAIS. Hussy, I’ve been intrusting the sheep to the wolf. I’m quite

ashamed to have been imposed upon in this way. What sort of man was

he?

PYTH. Hush! hush! mistress, pray; we are all right. Here we have the

very man.

THAIS. Where is he?

PYTH. Why there, to the left. Don’t you see?

THAIS. I see.

PYTH. Order him to be seized as quickly as possible.

THAIS. What can we do to him, simpleton?

PYTH. What do to him, do you ask? Pray, do look at him; if his face

doesn’t seem an impudent one.

THAIS. Not at all.

PYTH. Besides, what effrontery he has.

SCENE II.

_Enter CHÆREA, in the EUNUCH’S dress, on the other side of the

stage._

CHÆ. (_to himself._) At Antipho’s,[102] both of them, father and

mother, just as if on purpose, were at home, so that I couldn’t any

way get in, but that they must have seen me. In the mean time, while I

was standing before the door, a certain acquaintance {of mine} was

coming full upon me. When I espied him, I took to my heels as fast as

I could down a narrow unfrequented alley; thence again to another,

{and} thence to another; thus have I been most dreadfully harassed

with running about, that no one might recognize me. But isn’t this

Thais that I see? It is she. I’m at a stand. What shall I do? But what

need I care? What can she do to me?

THAIS, (_to PYTHIAS._) Let’s accost him. (_To CHÆREA._) Good Mister

Dorus, welcome; tell me, have you been running away?

CHÆ. Madam, I did so.

THAIS. Are you quite pleased with it?

CHÆ. No.

THAIS. Do you fancy that you’ll get off with impunity?

CHÆ. Forgive this one fault; if I’m ever guilty of another, {then}

kill me.

THAIS. Were you in fear of my severity?

CHÆ. No.

THAIS. No? What then?

CHÆ. (_pointing at PYTHIAS._) I was afraid of her, lest she might be

accusing me to you.

THAIS. What had you done?

CHÆ. A mere trifle.

PYTH. Come now, a trifle, you impudent fellow. Does this appear a

trifle to you, to ravish a virgin, a citizen?

CHÆ. I took her for my fellow-servant.

PYTH. Fellow-servant? I can hardly restrain myself from flying at his

hair. A miscreant! Even of his own free will he comes to make fun of

us.

THAIS, (_to PYTHIAS._) Won’t you begone from here, you mad woman?

PYTH. Why so? Really, I do believe I should be something in this

hang-dog’s debt, if I were to do so; especially as he owns that he is

your servant.

THAIS. We’ll pass that by. Chærea, you have behaved unworthily of

yourself; for if I am deserving in the highest degree of this affront,

still it is unbecoming of you to be guilty of it. And, upon my faith,

I do not know what method now to adopt about this girl: you have so

confounded all my plans, that I can not possibly return her to her

friends in such a manner as is befitting and as I had intended; in

order that, by this means, I might, Chærea, do a real service to

myself.

CHÆ. But now, from henceforth, I hope, Thais, that there will be

lasting good-will between us. Many a time, from some affair of this

kind and from a bad beginning, great friendships have sprung up. What

if some Divinity has willed this?

THAIS. I’faith, for my own part I both take it in that view and wish

{to do so}.

CHÆ. Yes, prithee, do so. Be sure of this one thing, that I did not do

it for the sake of affronting you, but in consequence of passion.

THAIS. I understand, and, i’faith, for that reason do I now the more

readily forgive you. I am not, Chærea, of a disposition so ungentle,

or so inexperienced, as not to know what is the power of love.

CHÆ. So may the Deities kindly bless me, Thais; I am now smitten with

you as well.

PYTH. Then, i’faith, mistress, I foresee you must have a care of him.

CHÆ. I would not dare--

PYTH. I won’t trust you at all in any thing.

THAIS, (_to PYTHIAS._) Do have done.

CHÆ. Now I entreat you that you will be my assistant in this affair.

I intrust and commit myself to your care; I take you, Thais, as my

protectress; I implore you; I shall die if I don’t have her for my

wife.

THAIS. But if your father {should say} any thing--

CHÆ. Oh, he’ll consent, I’m quite sure of that, if she is only a

citizen.

THAIS. If you will wait a little, the brother himself of the young

woman will be here presently; he has gone to fetch the nurse, who

brought her up when a little child; you yourself, shall be present

Chærea, at his recognition of her.

CHÆ. I certainly will stay.

THAIS. In the mean time, until he comes, would you prefer that we

should wait for him in the house, rather than here before the door?

CHÆ. Why yes, I should like it much.

PYTH. (_to THAIS._) Prithee, what are you going to do?

THAIS. Why, what’s the matter?

PYTH. Do you ask? Do you think of admitting him after this into your

house?

THAIS. Why not?

PYTH. Trust my word for it, he’ll be creating some new disturbance.

THAIS. O dear, prithee, do hold your tongue.

PYTH. You seem to me to be far from sensible of his assurance.

CHÆ. I’ll not do any thing, Pythias.

PYTH. Upon my faith, I don’t believe you, Chærea, except in case you

are not trusted.

CHÆ. Nay but, Pythias, do you be my keeper.

PYTH. Upon my faith, I would neither venture to give any thing to you

to keep, nor to keep you {myself}: away with you!

THAIS. Most opportunely the brother himself is coming.

CHÆ. I’faith, I’m undone. Prithee, let’s be gone in-doors, Thais.

I don’t want him to see me in the street with this dress on.

THAIS. For what reason, pray? Because you are ashamed?

CHÆ. Just so.

PYTH. Just so? But the young woman----

THAIS. Go first; I’ll follow. You stay here, Pythias, that you may

show Chremes in. (_THAIS and CHÆREA go into the house._)

SCENE III.

_Enter CHREMES and SOPHRONA._

PYTH. (_to herself._) Well! what now can suggest itself to my mind?

What, I wonder, in order that I may repay the favor to that villain

who palmed this {fellow} off upon us?

CHREM. Really, do bestir yourself more quickly, nurse.

SOPH. I am bestirring.

CHREM. {So} I see; but you don’t stir forward.

PYTH. (_to CHREMES._) Have you yet shown the tokens to the nurse?

CHREM. All of them.

PYTH. Prithee, what does she say? Does she recognize them?

CHREM. Yes, with a full recollection of them.

PYTH. Upon my faith, you do bring good news; for I {really} wish well

to this young woman. Go in-doors: my mistress has been for some time

expecting you at home. (_CHREMES and SOPHRONA go into THAIS’S house._)

But look, yonder I espy {that} worthy fellow, Parmeno, coming: just

see, for heaven’s sake, how leisurely he moves along. I hope I have it

in my power to torment him after my own fashion. I’ll go in-doors,

that I may know for certain about the discovery; afterward I’ll come

out, and give this villain a terrible fright. (_Goes into the house._)

SCENE IV.

_Enter PARMENO._

PAR. (_to himself._) I’ve just come back to see what Chærea has been

doing here. If he has managed the affair with dexterity, ye Gods, by

our trust in you, how great and genuine applause will Parmeno obtain!

For not to mention that a passion, full of difficulty and expense,

with which he was smitten for a virgin, belonging to an extortionate

courtesan, I’ve found means of satisfying for him, without

molestation, without outlay, {and} without cost; then, this other

point-- that is really a thing that I consider my crowning merit, to

have found out the way by which a young man may be enabled to learn

the dispositions and manners of courtesans, so that by knowing them

betimes, he may detest them ever after. (_PYTHIAS enters from the

house unperceived._) For while they are out of doors, nothing seems

more cleanly, nothing more neat or more elegant; and when they dine

with a gallant, they pick daintily about:[103] to see the filth, the

dirtiness, the neediness of these women; how sluttish they are when at

home, and how greedy after victuals; in what a fashion they devour the

black bread with yesterday’s broth:-- to know all this, is salvation

to a young man.

SCENE V.

_Enter PYTHIAS from the house._

PYTH. (_apart, unseen by PARMENO._) Upon my faith, you villain, I’ll

take vengeance upon you for these sayings and doings; so that you

sha’n’t make sport of us with impunity. (_Aloud, coming forward._) O,

by our trust in the Gods, what a disgraceful action! O hapless young

man! O wicked Parmeno, to have brought him here!

PAR. What’s the matter?

PYTH. I do pity him; and so that I mightn’t see it, wretched creature

that I am, I hurried away out of doors. What a dreadful example they

talk of making him!

PAR. O Jupiter! What is this tumult? Am I then undone? I’ll accost

her. What’s all this, Pythias? What are you saying? An example made of

whom?

PYTH. Do you ask the question, you most audacious fellow? You’ve

proved the ruin of the young man whom you brought hither for the

Eunuch, while you were trying to put a trick upon us.

PAR. How so, or what has happened? Tell me.

PYTH. I’ll tell you: that young woman who was to-day made a present to

Thais, are you aware that she is a citizen of this place, and that her

brother is a person of very high rank?

PAR. I didn’t know {that}.

PYTH. But so she has been discovered {to be}; he, unfortunate {youth},

has ravished her. When the brother came to know of this being done, in

a most towering rage, {he}----

PAR. Did what, pray?

PYTH. First, bound him in a shocking manner.

PAR. Bound him?

PYTH. And even though Thais entreated him that he wouldn’t do so----

PAR. What is it you tell me?

PYTH. Now he is threatening that he {will} also {do} that which is

usually done to ravishers; a thing that I never saw done, nor wish to.

PAR. With what assurance does he dare {perpetrate} a crime so heinous?

PYTH. How “so heinous?”

PAR. Is it not most heinous? Who ever saw any one taken up as a

ravisher in a courtesan’s house?

PYTH. I don’t know.

PAR. But that you mayn’t be ignorant of this, Pythias, I tell you,

{and} give you notice that he is my master’s son.

PYTH. How! Prithee, is it he?

PAR. Don’t let Thais suffer any violence to be done to him. But why

don’t I go in myself?

PYTH. Take care, Parmeno, what you are about, lest you both do him no

good and come to harm yourself; for it is their notion, that whatever

has happened, has originated in you.

PAR. What then, wretch that I am, shall I do, or how resolve? But

look, I see the old gentleman returning from the country; shall I tell

him or shall I not? By my troth, I will tell him; although I am

certain that a heavy punishment is in readiness for me; but it’s a

matter of necessity, in order that he may rescue him.

PYTH. You are wise. I’m going in-doors; do you relate to him every

thing exactly as it happened. (_Goes into the house._)

SCENE VI.

_Enter LACHES._

LACH. (_to himself._) I have this advantage[104] from my country-house

being so near at hand; no weariness, either of country or of town,

ever takes possession of me; when satiety begins to come on, I change

my locality. But is not that our Parmeno? Surely it is he. Whom are

you waiting for, Parmeno, before the door here?

PAR. (_pretends not to see him._) Who is it? (_Turning round._) Oh,

I’m glad that you have returned safe.

LACH. Whom are you waiting for?

PAR. (_aside._) I’m undone: my tongue cleaves {to my mouth} through

fright.

LACH. Why, what is it you are trembling about? Is all quite right?

Tell me.

PAR. Master, in the first place, I would have you persuaded of what is

the fact; whatever has happened in this affair has happened through no

fault of mine.

LACH. What {is it}?

PAR. Really you have reason to ask. I ought first to have told you the

circumstances. Phædria purchased a certain Eunuch, to make a present

of to this woman here.

LACH. To what woman?

PAR. To Thais.

LACH. Bought? Good heavens, I’m undone! For how much?

PAR. Twenty minæ.

LACH. Done for, quite.

PAR. Then, Chærea is in love with a certain music-girl here.

(_Pointing to THAIS’S house._)

LACH. How! What? In love? Does he know already what a courtesan means?

Is he come to town? One misfortune close upon another.

PAR. Master, don’t look so at me; he didn’t do these things by my

encouragement.

LACH. Leave off talking about yourself. If I live, you hang-dog,

I’ll---- But first give me an account of it, whatever it is.

PAR. He was taken to the house of Thais in place of the Eunuch.

LACH. In place of the Eunuch?

PAR. Such is the fact. They have since apprehended him in the house as

a ravisher, and bound him.

LACH. Death!

PAR. Mark the assurance of courtesans.

LACH. Is there any other calamity or misfortune besides, that you have

not told me of?

PAR. That’s all.

LACH. Do I delay rushing in here? (_Runs into the house of THAIS._)

PAR. (_to himself._) There’s no doubt but that I shall have a heavy

punishment for this affair, only that I was obliged to act thus. I’m

glad of this, that some mischief will befall these women here through

my agency, for the old man has, for a long time, been on the look-out

for some occasion[105] to do them a bad turn; at last he has found it.

SCENE VII.

_Enter PYTHIAS from the house of THAIS, laughing._

PYTH. (_to herself, on entering._) Never, upon my faith, for a long

time past, has any thing happened to me that I could have better liked

to happen, than the old gentleman just now, full of his mistake,

coming into our house. I had the joke all to myself, as I knew[106]

what it was he feared.

PAR. (_apart_). Why, what’s all this?

PYTH. Now I’m come out to meet with Parmeno. But, prithee, where is

he? (_Looking around._)

PAR. (_apart._) She’s looking for me.

PYTH. And there he is, I see; I’ll go up to him.

PAR. What’s the matter, simpleton? What do you mean? What are you

laughing about? Still going on?

PYTH. (_laughing._) I’m dying; I’m wretchedly tired with laughing at

you.

PAR. Why so?

PYTH. Do you ask? Upon my faith, I never did see, nor shall see,

a more silly fellow. Oh dear, I can not well express what amusement

you’ve afforded in-doors. And still I formerly took you to be a clever

and shrewd person. Why, was there any need for you instantly to

believe what I told you? Or were you not content with the crime, which

by your advice the young man had been guilty of, without betraying the

poor fellow to his father as well? Why, what do you suppose his

feelings must have been at the moment when his father saw him clothed

in that dress? Well, do you now understand that you are done for?

(_Laughing._)

PAR. Hah! what is it you say, you hussy? Have you been telling me

lies? What, laughing still? Does it appear so delightful to you, you

jade, to be making fools of us?

PYTH. (_laughing._) Very much so.

PAR. Yes, indeed, if you can do it with impunity.

PYTH. Exactly so.

PAR. By heavens, I’ll repay you!

PYTH. I believe you; but, perhaps, that which you are threatening,

Parmeno, will need a {future} day; you’ll be trussed up directly, for

rendering a silly young man remarkable for disgraceful conduct, and

{then} betraying him to his father; they’ll both be making an example

of you. (_Laughing._)

PAR. I’m done for!

PYTH. This reward has been found you in return for that present {of

yours};[107] I’m off. (_Goes into the house._)

PAR. (_to himself._) Wretch that I am; just like a rat, this day I’ve

come to destruction through betrayal of myself.[108]

SCENE VIII.

_Enter THRASO and GNATHO._

GNA. (_to THRASO._) Well now? With what hope, or what design, are we

come hither? What do you intend to do, Thraso?

THRA. What, I? To surrender myself to Thais, and do what she bids me.

GNA. What is it you say?

THRA. Why any the less so, than Hercules served Omphale.[109]

GNA. The precedent pleases me. (_Aside._) I only wish I may see your

head stroked down with a slipper;[110] but her door makes a noise.

THRA. Confusion! Why, what mischief’s this? I never saw this person

before; why, I wonder, is he rushing out in such a hurry? (_They stand

aside._)

SCENE IX.

_Enter CHÆREA from the house of THAIS, on the other side of the

stage._

CHÆ. (_to himself, aloud._) O fellow-townsmen, is there any one alive

more fortunate than me this day? Not any one, upon my faith: for

clearly in me have the Gods manifested all their power, on whom, thus

suddenly, so many blessings are bestowed.

PAR. (_apart._) Why is he {thus} overjoyed?

CHÆ. (_seeing PARMENO, and running up to him._) O my {dear} Parmeno,

the contriver, the beginner, the perfecter of all my delights, do you

know what are my transports? Are you aware that my Pamphila has been

discovered to be a citizen?

PAR. I have heard {so}.

CHÆ. Do you know that she is betrothed to me?

PAR. So may the Gods bless me, happily done.

GNA. (_apart to THRASO._) Do you hear what he says?

CHÆ. And then, besides, I am delighted that my brother’s mistress is

secured to him; the family is united. Thais has committed herself to

the patronage of my father;[111] she has put herself under our care

and protection.

PAR. Thais, then, is wholly your brother’s.

CHÆ. Of course.

PAR. Then this is another reason for us to rejoice, that the Captain

will be beaten out of doors.

CHÆ. Wherever my brother is, do you take care that he hears this as

soon as possible.

PAR. I’ll go look for him at home. (_Goes into the house of LACHES._)

THRA. (_apart to GNATHO._) Do you at all doubt, Gnatho, but that I am

now ruined everlastingly?

GNA. (_to THRASO._) Without doubt, I do think so.

CHÆ. (_to himself._) What am I to make mention of first, or commend in

especial? Him who gave me the advice to do so, or myself, who ventured

to undertake it? Or ought I to extol fortune, who has been my guide,

and has so opportunely crowded into a single day events so numerous,

so important; or my father’s kindness and indulgence? Oh Jupiter,

I entreat you, do preserve these blessings unto us!

SCENE X.

_Enter PHÆDRIA from the house of LACHES._

PHÆD. (_to himself._) Ye Gods, by our trust in you, what incredible

things has Parmeno just related to me! But where is my brother?

CHÆ. (_stepping forward._) Here he is.

PHÆD. I’m overjoyed.

CHÆ. I quite believe you. There is no one, brother, more worthy to be

loved than this Thais of yours: so much is she a benefactress to all

our family.

PHÆD. Whew! are you commending her {too} to me?

THRA. (_apart._) I’m undone; the less the hope I have, the more I am

in love. Prithee, Gnatho, my hope is in you.

GNA. (_apart._) What do you wish me to do?

THRA. (_apart._) Bring this about, by entreaties {or} with money, that

I may at least share Thais’s favors in some degree.

GNA. (_apart._) It’s a hard task.

THRA. (_apart._) If you set your mind on any thing, I know you {well}.

If you manage this, ask me for any present you like as your reward;

you shall have what you ask.

GNA. (_apart._) Is it so?

THRA. (_apart._) It shall be so.

GNA. (_apart._) If I manage this, I ask that your house, whether you

are present or absent, may be open to me; that, without invitation,

there may always be a place for me.

THRA. (_apart._) I pledge my honor that it shall be {so}.

GNA. (_apart._) I’ll set about it {then}.

PHÆD. Who is it I hear so close at hand? (_Turning round._) O Thraso--

THRA. (_coming forward._) Save you {both}--

PHÆD. Perhaps you are not aware what has taken place here.

THRA. I am quite aware.

PHÆD. Why, then, do I see you in this neighborhood?

THRA. Depending on your {kindness}.

PHÆD. Do you know what sort of dependence you have? Captain, I give

you notice, if ever I catch you in this street again, even if you

should say to me, “I was looking for another person, I was on my road

this way,” you are undone.

GNA. Come, come, that’s not handsome.

PHÆD. I’ve said it.

GNA. I didn’t know you gave yourself such airs.

PHÆD. So it shall be.

GNA. First hear a few words from me; and when I have said the thing,

if you approve of it, do it.

PHÆD. Let’s hear.

GNA. Do you step a little that way, Thraso. (_THRASO stands aside._)

In the first place, I wish you both implicitly to believe me in this,

that whatever I do in this matter, I do it entirely for my own sake;

but if the same thing is of advantage to yourselves, it would be folly

for you not to do it.

PHÆD. What is it?

GNA. I’m of opinion that the Captain, your rival, should be received

{among you}.

PHÆD. (_starting._) Hah!

CHÆ. Be received?

GNA. (_to PHÆDRIA._) Only consider. I’faith, Phaedria, at the free

rate you are living with her, and indeed very freely you are living,

you have but little to give; and it’s necessary for Thais to receive a

good deal. That all this may be supplied for your amour and not at

your own expense, there is not an individual better suited or more

fitted for your purpose {than the Captain}. In the first place, he

both has got enough to give, and no one does give more profusely. He

is a fool, a dolt, a blockhead; night and day he snores away; and you

need not fear that the lady will fall in love with him; you may easily

have him discarded whenever you please.

CHÆ. (_to PHÆDRIA._) What shall we do?

GNA. And this besides, which I deem to be of even greater

importance,-- not a single person entertains in better style or more

bountifully.

CHÆ. It’s a wonder if this sort of man can not be made use of in some

way or other.

PHÆD. I think so too.

GNA. You act properly. One thing I have still to beg of you,-- that

you’ll receive me into your fraternity; I’ve been rolling that

stone[112] for a considerable time past.

PHÆD. We admit you.

CHÆ. And with all my heart.

GNA. Then I, in return for this, Phaedria, and you, Chaerea, make him

over to you[113] to be eaten and drunk to the dregs.

CHÆ. Agreed.

PHÆD. He quite deserves it.[114]

GNA. (_calling to THRASO._) Thraso, whenever you please, step this

way.

THRA. Prithee, how goes it?

GNA. How? {Why}, these people didn’t know you; after I had discovered

to them your qualities, and had praised you as your actions and your

virtues deserved, I prevailed upon them.

THRA. You have managed well; I give you my best thanks. Besides,

I never was any where but what all were extremely fond of me.

GNA. (_to PHÆDRIA and CHÆREA._) Didn’t I tell you that he was a master

of the Attic elegance?

PHÆD. He is no other than you mentioned. (_Pointing to his FATHER’S

house._) Walk this way. (_To the AUDIENCE._) Fare you well, and grant

us your applause.

FOOTNOTES

[Footnote 1: From λαγχάνω, “to obtain by lot” or “heirship.”]

[Footnote 2: From φαιδρὸς, “cheerful.”]

[Footnote 3: From χαίρων, “rejoicing.”]

[Footnote 4: From ἀντὶ, “opposite to,” and φῶς, “light,” or φῆμι,

“to speak.”]

[Footnote 5: From χρεμίζω, “to neigh;” delighting in horses.]

[Footnote 6: From θρασὸς, “boldness.”]

[Footnote 7: From γναθὸς, “the jawbone;” a glutton.]

[Footnote 8: From παρὰ, “by,” and μένω, “to remain.”]

[Footnote 9: From Sangia in Phrygia, his native country.]

[Footnote 10: From δόναξ, “a reed.”]

[Footnote 11: From σιμὸς, “flat-nosed.”]

[Footnote 12: From Syria, his country; or from συρίσκος,

“a basket of figs.”]

[Footnote 13: From θεάομαι, “to look at.”]

[Footnote 14: From πυθομένη, “asking questions.”]

[Footnote 15: From Doris, their country, a part of Caria.]

[Footnote 16: From σώφρων, “prudent.”]

[Footnote 17: From πᾶν, “all,” and φιλὸς, “a friend.”]

[Footnote 18: _The Title_)--Colman has the following remark on

this Play: “This seems to have been the most popular of all the

Comedies of Terence. Suetonius and Donatus both inform us that it

was acted with the greatest applause, and that the Poet received a

larger price for it from the Ædiles than had ever been paid for

any before, namely, 8000 sesterces, which is about equal to 200

crowns, which in those times was a considerable sum.”]

[Footnote 19: _Acted twice_)--This probably means “twice in one

day.” As it is generally supposed that something is wanting after

the figures II, this is presumed to be “die,” “in one day,” in

confirmation of which Suetonius informs us that it really was

performed twice in one day. Donatus says it was performed three

times, by which he may probably mean, twice on one day and once on

another.]

[Footnote 20: _Being Consuls_)--M. Valerius Messala and C. Fannius

Strabo were Consuls in the year from the building of the City 591,

or B.C. 162.]

[Footnote 21: _If there is one who thinks_)--Ver. 4. He alludes to

his old enemy, Luscus Lavinius, the Comic Poet, who is alluded to

in the Prologue to the Andria, and has since continued his attacks

upon him.]

[Footnote 22: _By translating literally_)--Ver. 7. “Bene vertendo,

at eosdem scribendo male.” This passage has greatly puzzled some

of the Commentators. Bentley has, however, it appears, come to the

most reasonable conclusion; who supposes that Terence means by

“bene vertere,” a literal translation, word for word, from the

Greek, by which a servile adherence to the idiom of that language

was preserved to the neglect of the Latin idiom; in consequence of

which the Plays of Luscus Lavinius were, as he remarks, “male

scriptæ,” written in bad Latin.]

[Footnote 23: _Has published the Phasma_)--Ver. 9. The “Φασμά,” or

“Apparition,” was a play of Menander, so called, in which a young

man looking through a hole in the wall between his father’s house

and that next door, sees a young woman of marvelous beauty, and is

struck with awe at the sight, as though by an apparition; in the

Play, the girl’s mother is represented as having made this hole in

the wall, and having decked it with garlands and branches that it

may resemble a consecrated place; where she daily performs her

devotions in company with her daughter, who has been privately

brought up, and whose existence is unknown to the neighbors. On

the youth coming by degrees to the knowledge that the object of

his admiration is but a mortal, his passion becomes so violent

that it will admit of no cure but marriage, with the celebration

of which the Play concludes. Bentley gives us the above

information from an ancient Scholiast, whose name is unknown,

unless it is Donatus himself, which is doubtful. It would appear

that Luscus Lavinius had lately made a translation of this Play,

which, from its servile adherence to the language of the original,

had been couched in ungrammatical language, and probably not

approved of by the Audience. Donatus thinks that this is the

meaning of the passage, and that, content with this slight

reference to a well-known fact, the author passes it by in

contemptuous silence.]

[Footnote 24: _And in the Thesaurus has described_)--Ver. 10. Cook

has the following appropriate remark upon this passage: “In the

‘Thesaurus,’ or ‘Treasure’ of Luscus Lavinius, a young fellow,

having wasted his estate by his extravagance, sends a servant to

search his father’s monument: but he had before sold the ground on

which the monument was, to a covetous old man; to whom the servant

applies to help him open the monument; in which they discover a

hoard and a letter. The old fellow sees the treasure and keeps it;

the young one goes to law with him, and the old man is represented

as opening his cause first before the judge, which he begins with

these words:--

‘Athenienses, bellum cum Rhodiensibus,

Quod fuerit, quid ego prædicem?’

‘Athenians, why should I relate the war with the Rhodians?’ And he

goes on in a manner contrary to the rules of court; which Terence

objects to, because the young man, who was the plaintiff, should

open his cause first. Thus far Bentley, from the same Scholiast

[as referred to in the last Note]. This Note is a clear

explanation of the four verses to which it belongs. Hare concurs

with Madame Dacier in her opinion ‘de Thesauro,’ that it is only a

part of the Phasma of Menander, and not a distinct Play; but were

I not determined by the more learned Bentley, the text itself

would not permit me to be of their opinion; for the words ‘atque

in Thesauro scripsit’ seem plainly to me to be a transition to

another Play. The subject of the Thesaurus is related by

Eugraphius, though not with all the circumstances mentioned in my

Note from Bentley.” Colman also remarks here; “Menander and his

contemporary Philemon, each of them wrote a Comedy under this

title. We have in the above Note the story of Menander’s; and we

know that of Philemon’s from the ‘Trinummus’ of Plautus, which was

a Translation of it.”]

[Footnote 25: _Opportunity of viewing it_)--Ver. 21. Colman thinks

that this means something “stronger than merely being present at

the representation,” and he takes the meaning to be, that having

obtained leave to peruse the MS., he furnished himself with

objections against the piece, which he threw out when it came to

be represented before the magistrates. Cooke thinks that the

passage only means, “that he bustled and took pains to be near

enough at the representation to see and hear plainly.” The truth

seems to be that Lavinius managed to obtain admission at the

rehearsal or trial of the merits of the piece before the

magistrates, and that he then behaved himself in the unseemly

manner mentioned in the text.]

[Footnote 26: _Produced the piece, but still had not deceived

him_)--Ver. 24. There is a pun here upon the resemblance in

meaning of the words “verba dare” and “fabulam dare.” The first

expression means to “deceive” or “impose upon;” the latter phrase

has also the same meaning, but it may signify as well “to

represent” or “produce a Play.” Thus the exclamation in its

ambiguity may mean, “he has produced a Play, and has not succeeded

in deceiving us,” or “he has deceived us, and yet has not deceived

us.” This is the interpretation which Donatus puts upon the

passage.]

[Footnote 27: _Colax, an old Play of Plautus_)--Ver. 25. Although

Nonius Marcellus professes to quote from the Colax of Plautus (so

called from the Greek Κολὰξ, “a flatterer” or “parasite”), some

scholars have disbelieved in the existence of any Play of Plautus

known by that name. Cooke says: “If Plautus had wrote a Play under

the title of ‘Colax,’ I should think it very unlikely that it

should have escaped Terence’s eye, considering how soon he

flourished after Plautus, his being engaged in the same studies,

and his having such opportunities to consult the libraries of the

great; for though all learning was then confined to Manuscripts,

Terence could have no difficulty in coming at the best copies. The

character of the ‘Miles Gloriosus’ [Braggart Captain] here

mentioned, I am inclined to think the same with that which is the

hero of Plautus’s Comedy, now extant, and called ‘Miles

Gloriosus,’ from which Terence could not take his Thraso.

Pyrgopolinices and Thraso are both full of themselves, both boast

of their valor and their intimacy with princes, and both fancy

themselves beloved by all the women who see them; and they are

both played off by their Parasites, but they differ in their

manner and their speech: Plautus’s Pyrgopolinices is always in the

clouds, and talking big, and of blood and wounds-- Terence’s

Thraso never says too little nor much, but is an easy ridiculous

character, continually supplying the Audience with mirth without

the wild extravagant bluster of Pyrgopolinices; Plautus and

Terence both took their soldiers and Parasites from Menander, but

gave them different dresses.” Upon this Note Colman remarks:

“Though there is much good criticism in the above Note, it is

certain that Plautus did not take his ‘Miles Gloriosus’ from the

Colax of Menander, as he himself informs us it was translated from

a Greek play called Ἀλάζων, ‘the Boaster,’ and the Parasite is but

a trifling character in that play, never appearing after the first

Scene.”]

[Footnote 28: _Hurrying servants_)--Ver. 35. On the “currentes

servi,” see the Prologue to the Heautontimorumenos, l. 31. Ovid,

in the Amores, B. i., El. 15, l. 17, 18, mentions a very similar

combination of the characters of Menander’s Comedy: “So long as

the deceitful slave, the harsh father, the roguish procuress, and

the cozening courtesan shall endure, Menander will exist.”]

[Footnote 29: _What, then, shall I do?_)--Ver. 46. Phædria, on

being sent for by Thais, breaks out into those words as he enters,

after having deliberated upon his parting with her. Both Horace

and Persius have imitated this passage in their Satires.]

[Footnote 30: _What! I to her?_)--Ver. 65. Donatus remarks that

this is an abrupt manner of speaking familiarly to persons in

anger; and that the sentences are thus to be understood, “I, go to

her? Her, who has received him! Who has excluded me!”-- inasmuch

as indignation loves to deal in Ellipsis and Aposiopesis.]

[Footnote 31: _The downfall of our fortunes_)--Ver. 79. Colman

observes, “There is an extreme elegance in this passage in the

original; and the figurative expression is beautifully employed.”

“Calamitas” was originally a word used in husbandry, which

signified the destruction of growing corn; because, as Donatus

says, “Comminuit {calamum} et segetem;”-- “it strikes down the

blades and standing corn.”]

[Footnote 32: _Approach this fire_)--Ver. 85. “Ignem” is generally

supposed to be used figuratively here, and to mean “the flame of

love.” Eugraphius, however, would understand the expression

literally, observing that courtesans usually had near their doors

an altar sacred to Venus, on which they daily sacrificed.]

[Footnote 33: _Of course it’s because_)--Ver. 89. It must be

observed that these words, commencing with “Sane, quia vero,” in

the original, are said by Phædria not in answer to the words of

Thais immediately preceding, but to her previous question, “Cur

non recta introibas?” “Why didn’t you come into the house at

once?” and that they are spoken in bitter irony.]

[Footnote 34: _From Sunium_)--Ver. 115. This was a town situate

near a lofty Promontory of that name in Attica. It was famous for

a fair which was held there. “Sunium’s rocky brow” is mentioned by

Byron in the song of the Greek Captive in the third Canto of Don

Juan.]

[Footnote 35: _Set out for Caria_)--Ver. 126. This was a country

of Asia Minor upon the sea-coast, opposite to the island of

Rhodes.]

[Footnote 36: _Servant-maid from Æthiopia_)--Ver. 165. No doubt

Æthiopian or negro slaves were much prized by the great, and those

courtesans whose object it was to ape their manners.]

[Footnote 37: _Ladies of quality_)--Ver. 168. “Reginæ,” literally

“queens,” here means women of rank and distinction.]

[Footnote 38: _Paid twenty minæ_)--Ver. 169. The “minæ” contained

one hundred “drachmæ” of about 9¾_d._ each.]

[Footnote 39: _Ah wretched me!_)--Ver. 197. Donatus remarks that

the Poet judiciously reserves that part of the plot to be told

here, which Thais did not relate to Phædria in the presence of

Parmeno; whom the Poet keeps in ignorance as to the rank of the

damsel, that he may with the more probability dare to assist

Chærea in his attempt on her.]

[Footnote 40: _From the dispositions of other women_)--Ver. 198.

Donatus observes that this is one of the peculiar points of

excellence shown by Terence, introducing common characters in a

new manner, without departing from custom or nature; since he

draws a good Courtesan, and yet engages the attention of the

Spectators and amuses them. Colman has the following Note here:

“Under the name of Thais, Menander is supposed to have drawn the

character of his own mistress, Glycerium, and it seems he

introduced a Courtesan of the same name into several of his

Comedies. One Comedy was entitled ‘Thais,’ from which St. Paul

took the sentence in his Epistle to the Corinthians, ‘Evil

communications corrupt good manners.’” Plutarch has preserved four

lines of the Prologue to that Comedy, in which the Poet, in a kind

of mock-heroic manner, invokes the Muse to teach him to depict the

character of his heroine.]

[Footnote 41: _Not any one was there_)--Ver. 226-7. Very nearly

the same words as these occur in the Mostellaria of Plautus,

l. 29, 30: “Than whom, hitherto, no one of the youth of all Attica

has been considered more temperate or equally frugal.”]

[Footnote 42: _Nor submit to blows_)--Ver. 244. It has been

remarked in the Notes to the Translation of Plautus that the

Parasites had, in consequence of their state of dependence, to

endure blows and indignities from their fellow-guests. Their

attempts to be “ridiculi” or “drolls” were made in order to give

some small return to their entertainers. See especially the

character of Gelasimus in the Stichus of Plautus, and the words of

Ergasilus in the Captivi, l. 88, 90. Diderot, as quoted by Colman,

observes: “This is the only Scene in Terence which I remember that

can be charged with being superfluous. Thraso has made a present

to Thais of a young girl. Gnatho is to convey her. Going along

with her, he amuses himself with giving the Spectators a most

agreeable eulogium on his profession. But was that the time for

it? Let Gnatho pay due attention on the stage to the young woman

whom he is charged with, and let him say what he will to himself,

I consent to it.”]

[Footnote 43: _Fishmongers_)--Ver. 257. “Cetarii;” strictly

speaking, “dealers in large fish.”]

[Footnote 44: _Cooks_)--Ver. 257. The “coqui” were in the habit of

standing in the market-place for hire by those who required their

services. See the Pseudolus, the Aulularia, and the Mercator of

Plautus, and the Notes to Bohn’s Translation. See also a remark on

the knavish character of the sausage-makers in the Truculentus of

Plautus, l. 110]

[Footnote 45: _Become my follower_)--Ver. 262. “Sectari.” In

allusion to the manners of the ancient Philosophers, who were wont

to be followed by a crowd of their disciples, who were styled

“sectatores” and “sectæ.” Gnatho intends to found a new school of

Parasites, who shall be called the “Gnathonics,” and who, by their

artful adulation, shall contrive to be caressed instead of being

maltreated. Artotrogus, the Parasite in the Miles Gloriosus of

Plautus, seems, however, to have forestalled Gnatho as the founder

of this new school.]

[Footnote 46: _I’m standing_)--Ver. 271. “Quid agitur?” “Statur.”

The same joke occurs in the Pseudolus of Plautus, l. 457. “Quid

agitur? Statur hic ad hunc modum?” “What is going on?” or “What

are you about?” “About standing here in this fashion;” assuming an

attitude. Colman observes that there is much the same kind of

conceit in the “Merry Wives of Windsor.”

FALSTAFF. “My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about.”

PISTOL. “Two yards or more.”

Cooke has the following note: “‘Quid agitur’ is to be supposed to

have a single meaning as spoken by Gnatho, but Parmeno archly

renders it ambiguous by his answer. Our two first English

translations, that by Bernard and that by Hoole, make nothing of

it, nor indeed any other part of their author. Echard follows

Madame Dacier, and perceives a joke; but he does not render ‘quid,

agitur’ as the question ought to be translated. ‘Quid agitur’

sometimes means, ‘What are you doing?’ Sometimes, ‘How do you do?’

‘How are you?’ or ‘How goes the world with you?’”]

[Footnote 47: _From the Piraeus_)--Ver. 290. The Piraeus was the

chief harbor of Athens, at the mouth of the Cephisus, about three

miles from the City. It was joined to the town by two walls, one

of which was built by Themistocles, and the other by Pericles. It

was the duty of the Athenian youth to watch here in turn by way of

precaution against surprise by pirates or the enemy.]

[Footnote 48: _In your little room_)--Ver. 310. Though “cellulam”

seems to be considered by some to mean “cupboard” or “larder,” it

is more probable that it here signifies the little room which was

appropriated to each slave in the family for his own use.]

[Footnote 49: _Shoulders kept down and chests well girthed_)--Ver.

314. Ovid, in the Art of Love, B. iii., l. 274, alludes to the

“strophium” or “girth” here referred to: “For high shoulders,

small pads are suitable; and let the girth encircle the bosom that

is too prominent.” Becker thinks that the “strophium” was

different from the “fascia” or “stomacher,” mentioned in the

Remedy of Love, l. 338: “Does a swelling bosom cover all her

breast, let no stomacher conceal it.” From Martial we learn that

the “strophium” was made of leather.]

[Footnote 50: _Training for a boxer_)--Ver. 315. “Pugilem.” This

means “robust as a boxer,” or “athlete.” These persons were

naturally considered as the types of robustness, being dieted for

the purpose of increasing their flesh and muscle.]

[Footnote 51: _Complexion genuine_)--Ver. 318. “Color verns.” The

same expression is used by Ovid, in the Art of Love, B. iii.,

l. 164: “Et melior vero quæritur arte color:” “And by art a color is

sought superior to the genuine one.”]

[Footnote 52: _Full of juiciness_)--Ver. 318. “Succi plenum.”

A similar expression occurs in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus,

l. 787, where Periplecomenus wishes inquiry to be made for a woman

who is “siccam, at sucedam,” “sober, but full of juice:” _i.e._

replete with the plumpness and activity of youth.]

[Footnote 53: _The very flower of youth_)--Ver. 319. Ovid makes

mention of the “flos” or “bloom” of youth, Art of Love, B. ii.,

l. 663: “And don’t you inquire what year she is now passing, nor

under what Consulship she was born; a privilege which the rigid

Censor possesses. And this, especially, if she has passed the

bloom of youth, and her best years are fled, and she now pulls out

the whitening hairs.”]

[Footnote 54: _Be my advocate_)--Ver. 340. “Advocatus.” It must be

remembered that this word did not among the Romans bear the same

sense as the word “advocate” does with us. The “advocati” were the

friends of a man who accompanied him when his cause was pleaded,

and often performed the part of witnesses; those who assisted a

person in a dispute or difficulty were also his “advocati,” and in

this respect distantly resembled the “second” or “friend” of a

party in the modern duel. In the Phormio, Hegio, Cratinus, and

Crito are introduced as the “advocati” of Demipho. See also the

Pænulus of Plautus, and the Notes to that Play in Bohn’s

Translation.]

[Footnote 55: _An hour elapsed_)--Ver. 341. “Hora” is here used to

signify the long time, that, in his impatience, it appeared to him

to be.]

[Footnote 56: _It’s all over with you,-- you’ve said your

last_)--Ver. 347. “Ilicet” and “conclamatnm est,” are words of

mournful import, which were used with regard to the funeral rites

of the Romans. “Ilicet,” “you may begone,” was said aloud when the

funeral was concluded. “Conclamare,” implied the ceremony of

calling upon the dead person by name, before light was act to the

funeral pile; on no answer being given, he was concluded to be

really dead, and the pile was set fire to amid the cries of those

present: “conclamatum est” would consequently signify that all

hope has gone.]

[Footnote 57: _Thais the Courtesan_)--Ver. 352. Cooke remarks

here, somewhat hypercritically as it would seem: “Thais is not

called ‘meretrix’ here opprobriously, but to distinguish her from

other ladies of the same name, who were not of the same

profession.”]

[Footnote 58: _A Eunuch_)--Ver. 356. Eunuchs formed part of the

establishment of wealthy persons, who, in imitation of the Eastern

nobles, confided the charge of their wives, daughters, or

mistresses to them. Though Thais would have no such necessity for

his services, her wish to imitate the “reginæ,” or “great ladies,”

would make him a not unacceptable present. See the Addresses of

Ovid to the Eunuch Bagoüs in the Amours, B. ii., El. 2, 3.]

[Footnote 59: _as she is reported to be_)--Ver. 361. Donatus

remarks this as an instance of the art of Terence, in preserving

the probability of Chærea’s being received for the Eunuch. He

shows hereby that he is so entirely a stranger to the family that

he does not even know the person of Thais. It is also added that

she has not been long in the neighborhood, and he has been on duty

at the Piraeus. The meaning of his regret is, that, not knowing

Thais, he will not have an opportunity of seeing the girl.]

[Footnote 60: _Have to pay the penalty_)--Ver. 381. “In me cadetur

faba,” literally, “the bean will be struck” or “laid about me;”

meaning, “I shall have to smart for it.” There is considerable

doubt what is the origin of this expression, and this doubt

existed as early as the time of Donatus. He says that it was a

proverb either taken from the threshing of beans with a flail by

the countrymen; or else from the circumstance of the cooks who

have dressed the beans, but have not moistened them sufficiently,

being sure to have them thrown at their heads, as though for the

purpose of softening them. Neither of these solutions seems so

probable as that suggested by Madame Dacier, that dried beans were

inserted in the thongs of the “scuticæ,” or “whips,” with which

the slaves were beaten. According to others the knots in the whips

were only called “fabæ,” from their resemblance to beans.]

[Footnote 61: _Is it disgraceful_)--Ver. 382. Donatus remarks that

here Terence obliquely defends the subject of the Play.]

[Footnote 62: _The most mighty King_)--Ver. 397. It has been

suggested that Darius III. is here alluded to, who was a

contemporary of Menander. As however Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, is

mentioned in this Play, there is no necessity to go out of the way

to make Terence guilty of an anachronism. Madame Dacier suggests

that Seleucus, king of part of Asia Minor, is meant; and as Thraso

is called “a stranger” or “foreigner” toward the end of the Play,

he probably was intended to be represented as a native of Asia and

a subject of Seleucus. One of the Seleuci was also favored with

the services of Pyrgopolinices, the “Braggart Captain” of Plantus,

in the Miles Gloriosus. See l. 75 in that Play: “For King Seleucus

entreated me with most earnest suit that I would raise and enlist

recruits for him.”]

[Footnote 63: _You’ve just hit it_)--Ver. 401. Colman here

remarks, quoting the following passage from Shakspeare’s “Love’s

Labor Lost,” “That that Poet was familiarly acquainted with this

Comedy is evident from the passage, ‘Holofernes says, _Novi

hominem tanquam te_. His humor is lofty, his discourse peremptory,

his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his

general behavior vain, ridiculous, and Thrasonical.’” We may

remark that the previous words of Gnatho, though spoken with

reference to the King, contain a reproach against the Captain’s

boastfulness, though his vanity will not let him perceive it.]

[Footnote 64: _In his eye_)--Ver. 401. “In oculis” is generally

supposed to mean “as dearly in his eyes.” As, however, the Satraps

of the East were called “the king’s eyes,” those who suppose that

Darius is alluded to, might with some ground consider the passage

as meaning that the king ranked him in the number of his nobles.

See the Pænulus of Plautus, l. 693, and the Note in Bohn’s

Translation.]

[Footnote 65: _You understand_)--Ver. 405. He says this at the

very moment when he is at a loss what to say next; the Parasite

obligingly steps in to help him out with the difficulty.]

[Footnote 66: _Indeed, of none_)--Ver. 410. “Immo, nullorum

arbitror, si tecum vivit.” This expression which is used “aside,”

has two meanings, neither of which is complimentary to the

Captain. It may mean, “he has no society if he associates with

you,” making the Captain equivalent to nobody; or it may signify,

“if he associates with you he’ll be sure to drive all his other

acquaintances away.”]

[Footnote 67: _Over the Indian elephants_)--Ver. 413. Here he

shows his lofty position to perfection; he dares to take down the

pride of one who commanded even the royal elephants. The Braggart

Captain of Plautus comes into collision with the elephants

themselves: l. 26. Artotrogus says to him, “In what a fashion it

was you broke the fore-leg of even an elephant in India with your

fist!”]

[Footnote 68: _Looking out for game?_)--Ver. 426. “Pulmentum,”

more strictly speaking, “A nice bit.” Patrick has the following

Note on this passage: “‘Lepus tute es, et pulmentum quæris?’

A proverbial expression in use at that time: the proper meaning of

it, stripped of its figure, is, ‘You are little more than a woman

yourself, and do you want a mistress?’” We learn from Donatus and

Vopiscus, that Livius Andronicus had used this proverb in his

Plays before Terence. Commentators who enter into a minute

explanation of it offer many conjectures rather curious than

solid, and of a nature not fit to be mentioned here. Donatus seems

to think that allusion is made to a story prevalent among the

ancient naturalists that the hare was in the habit of changing its

sex.]

[Footnote 69: _If, indeed, she loved me_)--Ver. 446. Colman has

the following Note upon this passage: “I am at a loss to determine

whether it was in order to show the absurdity of the Captain or

from inadvertence in the Poet, that Terence here makes Thraso and

Gnatho speak in contradiction to the idea of Thais’s wonderful

veneration for Thraso, with which they opened the Scene.”]

[Footnote 70: _In exercises_)--Ver. 477. Reference will be found

made to the “palæstræ,” or “places of exercise,” in the Notes to

the Translation of Plautus.]

[Footnote 71: _If occasion served_)--Ver. 479. The Aposiopesis in

this line is very aptly introduced, on account of the presence of

the female; but it admirably illustrates the abominable turpitude

of the speaker, and perhaps in a somewhat more decent manner than

that in which Plautus attributes a similar tendency to his

Braggart Captain, l. 1111.]

[Footnote 72: _Out of the very flames_)--Ver. 491. This was a

proverb expressive of the lowest degree of meanness and infamy.

When they burned the bodies of the dead, it was the custom of the

ancients to throw meat and various articles of food upon the

funeral pile, and it was considered the greatest possible affront

to tell a person that he was capable of snatching these things out

of the flames.]

[Footnote 73: _If Chremes should happen to come_)--Ver. 513. This

is the first allusion to the arrangement which ultimately causes

the quarrel between Thais and the Captain.]

[Footnote 74: _Had been offering a sacrifice_)--Ver. 513. It was

the custom to sacrifice before entering on affairs of importance.

Thus, too, Jupiter, in the Amphitryon of Plautus, l. 938, speaks

of offering sacrifice on his safe return.]

[Footnote 75: _Our rings were given_)--Ver. 541. It was the custom

of parties who agreed to join in a “symbola,” or “club” or

“picnic” entertainment, to give their rings as pledges to the “rex

convivii,” or “getter up the feast.” Stakes were also deposited on

making bets at races. See Ovid’s Art of Love, B. i., l. 168.]

[Footnote 76: _To meet my death_)--Ver. 550. There is a passage in

the Othello of Shakspeare extremely similar to this:

--“If I were now to die,

I were now to be most happy; for, I fear,

My soul hath her content so absolute,

That not another comfort, like to this,

Succeeds in unknown fate.”]

[Footnote 77: _In the inner apartments_)--Ver. 579. The “Gynecæa,”

or women’s apartments, among the Greeks, always occupied the

interior part of the house, which was most distant from the

street, and there they were kept in great seclusion.]

[Footnote 78: _A few novices of girls_)--Ver. 582. These “noviciæ”

were young slaves recently bought, and intended to be trained to

the calling of a Courtesan.]

[Footnote 79: _At a certain painting_)--Ver. 584. See the story of

Jupiter and Danaë, the daughter of Acrisius, king of Argos, in the

Metamorphoses of Ovid, B. iv., l. 610. Pictures of Venus and

Adonis, and of Jupiter and Ganymede, are mentioned in the Menæchmi

of Plautus; l. 144, and paintings on the walls are also mentioned

in the Mostellaria of Plantus, l. 821, where Tranio tries to

impose upon Theuropides by pretending to point out a picture of a

crow between two vultures.]

[Footnote 80: _How Jove_)--Ver. 584. Donatus remarks here that

this was “a very proper piece of furniture for the house of a

Courtesan, giving an example of loose and mercenary love,

calculated to excite wanton thoughts, and at the same time hinting

to the young lover that he must make his way to the bosom of his

mistress, like Jupiter to Danaë, in a shower of gold. Oh the

avarice of harlots!”]

[Footnote 81: _A poor creature of a mortal_)--Ver. 591.

“Homuncio.” He uses this word the better to contrast his abject

nature as a poor mortal with the majesty of Jupiter. St. Augustin

refers to this passage. The preceding line is said by Donatus to

be a parody on a passage by Ennius.]

[Footnote 82: _Take this fan_)--Ver. 595. As to the fans of the

ancients, see the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 252, and the Note to

the passage in Bohn’s Translation. See also the Amours of Ovid, B.

iii., El. 2, l. 38.]

[Footnote 83: _Chattered aloud_)--Ver. 600. This line bears a

strong resemblance to two lines found in Anstey’s new Bath Guide:

“And how the young ladies all set up their clacks,

All the while an old woman was rubbing their backs.”]

[Footnote 84: _I slily looked askance_)--Ver. 601. This way of

looking aside, “limis,” is mentioned in the Miles Gloriosus of

Plautus, where Milphidippa tells Acroteleutium to look at the

Captain sideways, “Aspicito limis,” l. 1217; also in the

Bacchides, l. 1131. Those familiar with the works of Hogarth will

readily call to mind the picture of Bedlam in the Rake’s Progress,

whore the young woman is looking askance through her fan at the

madman in his cell.]

[Footnote 85: _Through the fan_)--Ver. 602. This shows that the

fan was probably one made of thin boards, and not of feathers.]

[Footnote 86: _So short-lived_)--Ver. 605. Colman has the

following Note here: “Short indeed, considering the number of

incidents, which, according to Chærea’s relation, are crowded into

it. All the time allowed for this adventure is the short space

between the departure of Thais and Thraso and the entrance of

Chærea; so that all this variety of business of sleeping, bathing,

ravishing, &c., is dispatched during the two soliloquies of

Antipho and Chærea, and the short Scene between Chremes and

Pythias. The truth is, that a very close adherence to the unities

often drives the Poet into as great absurdities as the perfect

violation of them.”]

[Footnote 87: _Took off her golden jewels_)--Ver. 627. This was

probably because it was contrary to the laws of Athens for a

Courtesan to appear with gold or jewels in the street. Madame

Dacier suggests another reason, in which there is some force,

although it is ridiculed by Cooke. Thais may have supposed that

the Captain, when irritated, might not have scrupled to take them

away from her. Indeed, nothing would be more probable, than that

he would be ready to take them by way of security for the return

of the slave, whom he had thus, to no purpose, presented to her.

In reference to the preceding line, we may remark that it was not

customary among the Greeks for females of good character to appear

at table with strangers.]

[Footnote 88: _While I was going_)--Ver. 629. Donatus remarks that

here the Poet artfully finds a reason to bring Phædria back again;

as he at first with equal art sent him out of the way, to give

probability to those incidents necessary to happen in his

absence.]

[Footnote 89: _At a distance_)--Ver. 640. “Extremâ lineâ.” There

have been many suggestions offered for the origin of this

figurative expression. Some suggest that it alludes to the last or

lowest stage of the supposed ladder of love; others that it refers

to the first or elementary line traced by the student, when

beginning to learn the art of painting. It is however more

generally thought to be a metaphor taken from the chariot-races in

the Circus, where, in going round the turning-place, he who was

nearest was said “currere in primâ lineâ;” the next, “in secundâ;”

and so on to the last, who took the widest range, and was said to

run “in extremâ lineâ.”]

[Footnote 90: _In party-colored clothes_)--Ver. 683. It was the

custom to dress Eunuchs in party-colored clothes of bright hue.

Most probably it was from them that the “motley” descended to the

fools and buffoons of the Middle Ages.]

[Footnote 91: _With a speckled complexion_)--Ver. 689. “Colore

stellionino;” probably having spots or freckles on his face like a

“stellio” or “lizard.”]

[Footnote 92: _Have done a service to her_)--Ver. 722. Though some

would have “illi” here to refer to the damsel, and others again to

Phædria, it is pretty clear that Madame Dacier is right in

suggesting that Thais is the person meant.]

[Footnote 93: _Casket with the tokens_)--Ver. 752. It was the

custom with the ancients when they exposed their children, to

leave with them some pledge or token of value, that they might

afterward be recognized by means of them. The catastrophes of the

Curculio, the Rudens, and other Plays of Plautus, are brought

about by taking advantage of this circumstance. The reasons for

using these tokens will be stated in a future Note.]

[Footnote 94: _Is a foreigner_)--Ver. 758. And therefore the more

unlikely to obtain redress from an Athenian tribunal. See the

Andria, l. 811, and the Note to the passage.]

[Footnote 95: _And his maniple_)--Ver. 775. We learn from the

Fasti of Ovid, B. iii., l. 117-8, that in early times the Roman

armies carried bundles or wisps of hay upon poles by way of

standards. “A long pole used to bear the elevated wisps, from

which circumstance the manipular soldier derives his name.” It

appears from this passage, and from other authors, that to every

troop of one hundred men a “manipulus” or wisp of hay (so called

from “manum implere,” to “fill the hand,” as being “a handful”),

was assigned as a standard, and hence in time the company itself

obtained the name of “manipulus,” and the soldier, a member of it,

was called “manipularis.” The “centurio,” or “leader of a

hundred,” was the commanding officer of the “manipulus.”]

[Footnote 96: _With a dish-clout_)--Ver. 776. “Peniculo.” This

word meant a sponge fastened to a stick, or the tail of a fox or

an ox, which was used as dusters or dish-clouts are at the present

day for cleaning tables, dishes, or even shoes. See the Menæchmi

of Plautus, ver. 77 and 391.]

[Footnote 97: _Be behind the second rank_)--Ver. 780. “Post

principia.” The Captain, with that discretion which is the better

part of valor, chooses the safest place in his army. The

“principes” originally fought in the van, fronting the enemy, and

behind them were the “hastati” and the “triarii.” In later times

the “hastati” faced the enemy, and the “principes” were placed in

the middle, between them and the “triarii;” but though no longer

occupying the front place, they still retained the name. Thraso,

then, places himself behind the middle line.]

[Footnote 98: _Pyrrhus used to proceed_)--Ver. 782. He attempts to

defend his cowardice by the example of Pyrrhus, the powerful

antagonist of the Romans, and one of the greatest generals of

antiquity. He might have more correctly cited the example of

Xerxes, who, according to Justin, did occupy that position in his

army.]

[Footnote 99: _I could very much_)--Ver. 785. Although Vollbehr

gives these words to Gnatho, yet, judging from the context, and

the words “ex occulto,” and remembering that Thais and Chremes are

up at the window, there is the greatest probability that these are

really the words of Thais addressed aside to Chremes.]

[Footnote 100: _You gallows-bird_)--Ver. 797. “Furcifer;”

literally, “bearer of the furca.”]

[Footnote 101: _As befits gallant soldiers_)--Ver. 814. Beaumont

and Fletcher not improbably had this scene in view in their

picture of the mob regiment in Philaster. The ragged regiment

which Shakspeare places under the command of Falstaff was not very

unlike it, nor that which owned the valiant Bombastes Furioso as

its Captain.]

[Footnote 102: _At Antipho’s_)--Ver. 839. Madame Dacier here

observes that Chærea assigns very natural reasons for not having

changed his dress; in which the art of Terence is evident, since

the sequel of the Play makes it absolutely necessary that Chærea

should appear again before Thais in the habit which he wore while

in the house.]

[Footnote 103: _Pick daintily about_)--Ver. 935. He seems here to

reprehend the same practice against which Ovid warns his fair

readers, in his Art of Love, B. iii. l. 75. He says, “Do not first

take food at home,” when about to go to an entertainment.

Westerhovius seems to think that “ligurio” means, not to “pick

daintily,” but “to be fond of good eating;” and refers to the

Bacchides of Plautus as portraying courtesans of the “ligurient”

kind, and finds another specimen in Bacchis in the

Heautontimorumenos.]

[Footnote 104: _This advantage_)--Ver. 970. Donatus here observes

that the Poet introduces Laches, as he has Parmeno just before, in

a state of perfect tranquillity, that their sudden change of

feeling may be the more diverting to the Audience.]

[Footnote 105: _For some occasion_)--Ver. 999. We learn from

Donatus that Menander was more explicit concerning the resentment

of Laches against Thais, on account of her having corrupted

Phædria.]

[Footnote 106: _As I knew_)--Ver. 1003. She enjoyed it the more,

knowing that the old man had nothing to fear, as he had just heard

the fiction which she had imparted to Parmeno. Donatus observes

that the terror of Laches accounts for his sudden consent to the

union of Chærea with Pamphila; for though he could not settle the

matter any other way with credit, he was glad to find that his son

had made an unequal match rather than endangered his life. Colman,

however, observes with considerable justice: “I think Chærea

apologizes still better for this arrangement in the Scene with

Thais at the opening of this Act, where he says that he is

confident of obtaining his father’s consent, provided Pamphila

proves to be a citizen; and, indeed, the match between them is

rather a reparation of an injury done to her than a degradation of

himself.”]

[Footnote 107: _In return for that present of yours_)--Ver. 1022.

By the present she means Chærea in the disguise of the Eunuch.]

[Footnote 108: _Through betrayal of myself_)--Ver. 1023. Which

betrays itself by its own squeaking.]

[Footnote 109: _Hercules served Omphale_)--Ver. 1026. He alludes

to the story of Omphale, Queen of Lydia, and Hercules. Being

violently in love with her, the hero laid aside his club and

boar’s skin, and in the habit of a woman plied the spindle and

distaff with her maids. See a curious story of Omphale, Hercules,

and Faunus, in the Fasti of Ovid, B. ii. l. 305. As to the

reappearance of Thraso here, Colman has the following remarks:

“Thraso, says Donatus, is brought back again in order to be

admitted to some share in the good graces of Thais, that he may

not be made unhappy at the end of the Play; but surely it is an

essential part of the poetical justice of Comedy to expose

coxcombs to ridicule and to punish them, though without any

shocking severity, for their follies.”]

[Footnote 110: _With a slipper_)--Ver. 1027. He doubtless alludes

to the treatment of Hercules by Omphale; and, according to Lucian,

there was a story that Omphale used to beat him with her slipper

or sandal. On that article of dress, see the Notes to the

Trinummus of Plautus, l. 252.]

[Footnote 111: _To the patronage of my father_)--Ver. 1038. It was

the custom at Athens for strangers, such as Thais was, to put

themselves under the protection (in clientelam) of some wealthy

citizen, who, as their patron, was bound to protect them against

injury. An exactly parallel case to the present is found in the

Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, l. 799, where the wealthy

Periplecomenus says, “Habeo, eccillam, meam clientam, meretricem

adolescentulam.” “Why, look, I have one, a dependent of mine,

a courtesan, a very young woman.”]

[Footnote 112: _Been rolling that stone_)--Ver. 1084. Donatus

thinks that he alludes to the story of Sisyphus, who, in the

Infernal Regions, was condemned eternally to roll a stone up a

hill, which, on arriving at the summit, immediately fell to the

bottom.]

[Footnote 113: _Make him over to you_)--Ver. 1086. “Vobis

propino.” The word “propino” was properly applied to the act of

tasting a cup of wine, and then handing it to another; he means

that he has had his taste of the Captain, and is now ready to hand

him over to them.]

[Footnote 114: _He quite deserves it_)--Ver. 1087. Cooke has the

following appropriate remark: “I can not think that this Play,

excellent as it is in almost all other respects, concludes

consistently with the manners of gentlemen; there is a meanness in

Phædria and Chærea consenting to take Thraso into their society,

with a view of fleecing him, which the Poet should have avoided.”]

*       *       *       *       *

*       *       *       *

ADELPHI; THE BROTHERS,

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

DEMEA,[1] Brother, aged Athenian.

MICIO,[2] Brother, aged Athenian.

HEGIO,[3] an aged Athenian, kinsman of Sostrata.

ÆSCHINUS,[4] son of Demea, adopted by Micio.

CTESIPHO,[5] another son of Demea.

SANNIO,[6] a Procurer.

GETA,[7] servant of Sostrata.

PARMENO,[8] servant of Micio.

SYRUS,[9] servant of Micio.

DROMO,[10] servant of Micio.

PAMPHILA,[11] a young woman beloved by Æschinus.

SOSTRATA,[12] a widow, mother of Pamphila.

CANTHARA,[13] a Nurse.

A Music-girl.

_Scene._--Athens; before the houses of MICIO and SOSTRATA.

THE SUBJECT.

MICIO and DEMEA are two brothers of dissimilar tempers. Demea is

married, and lives a country life, while his brother remains single,

and resides in Athens. Demea has two sons, the elder of whom,

Æschinus, has been adopted by Micio. Being allowed by his indulgent

uncle to gratify his inclinations without restraint, Æschinus has

debauched Pamphila, the daughter of a widow named Sostrata. Having,

however, promised to marry the young woman, he has been pardoned for

the offense, and it has been kept strictly secret. Ctesipho, who lives

in the country with his father under great restraint, on visiting the

city, falls in love with a certain Music-girl, who belongs to the

Procurer Sannio. To screen his brother, Æschinus takes the

responsibility of the affair on himself, and succeeds in carrying off

the girl for him. Demea, upon hearing of this, censures Micio for his

ill-timed indulgence, the bad effects of which are thus exemplified in

Æschinus; and at the same time lauds the steady conduct and frugality

of Ctesipho, who has been brought up under his own supervision.

Shortly after this, Sostrata hears the story about the Music-girl, at

the very time that her daughter Pamphila is in labor. She naturally

supposes that Æschinus has deserted her daughter for another, and

hastens to acquaint Hegio, her kinsman, with the fact. Meantime Demea

learns that Ctesipho has taken part in carrying off the Music-girl,

whereon Syrus invents a story, and screens Ctesipho for the moment.

Demea is next informed by Hegio of the conduct of Æschinus toward

Pamphila. Wishing to find his brother, he is purposely sent on a

fruitless errand by Syrus, on which he wanders all over the city to no

purpose. Micio having now been informed by Hegio, and knowing that the

intentions of Æschinus toward Pamphila are not changed, accompanies

him to the house of Sostrata, whom he consoles by his promise that

Æschinus shall marry her daughter. Demea then returns from his search,

and, rushing into Micio’s house, finds his son Ctesipho there

carousing; on which he exclaims vehemently against Micio, who uses his

best endeavors to soothe him, and finally with success. He now

determines to become kind and considerate for the future. At his

request, Pamphila is brought to Micio’s house; and the nuptials are

celebrated. Micio, at the earnest request of Demea and Æschinus,

marries Sostrata; Hegio has a competency allowed him; and Syrus and

his wife Phrygia are made free. The Play concludes with a serious

warning from Demea, who advises his relatives not to squander their

means in riotous living; but, on the contrary, to bear admonition and

to submit to restraint in a spirit of moderation and thankfulness.

THE TITLE OF THE PLAY.

Performed at the Funeral Games of Æmilius Paulus,[14] which were

celebrated by Q. Fabius Maximus and P. Cornelius Africanus. L. Atilius

Prænestinus and Minutius Prothimus performed it. Flaccus, the freedman

of Claudius, composed the music for Sarranian flutes.[15] Taken from

the Greek of Menander, L. Anicius and M. Cornelius being Consuls.[16]

ADELPHI; THE BROTHERS.

THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.

As Demea has two {sons}, young men, he gives Æschinus to his brother

Micio to be adopted {by him}; but he retains Ctesipho: him, captivated

with the charms of a Music-girl, {and} under a harsh and strict

father, his brother Æschinus screens; the scandal of the affair and

the amour he takes upon himself; at last, he carries the Music-girl

away from the Procurer. This same Æschinus has {previously} debauched

a poor woman, a citizen of Athens, and has given his word that she

shall be his wife. Demea upbraids him, {and} is greatly vexed;

afterward, however, when the truth is discovered, Æschinus marries

{the girl} who has been debauched; {and}, his harsh father Demea {now}

softened, Ctesipho retains the Music-girl.

THE PROLOGUE.

Since the Poet has found that his writings are carped at by unfair

{critics}, and that his adversaries represent in a bad light {the

Play} that we are about to perform, he shall give information about

himself; you shall be the judges whether this ought to be esteemed to

his praise or to his discredit. The Synapothnescontes[17] is a Comedy

of Diphilus;[18] Plautus made it into a Play {called} the

“Commorientes.” In the Greek, there is a young man, who, at the early

part of the Play, carries off a Courtesan from a Procurer; that part

Plautus has entirely left out. This portion he has adopted in the

Adelphi, {and} has transferred it, translated word for word. This new

{Play} we are about to perform; determine {then} whether you think a

theft has been committed, or a passage has been restored to notice

which has been passed over in neglect. For as to what these malevolent

persons say, that men of noble rank assist him, and are always writing

in conjunction with him-- that which they deem to be a heavy

crimination, he takes to be the highest praise; since he pleases those

who please you all and the public; the aid of whom in war, in peace,

in private business,[19] each one has availed himself of, on his own

occasion, without {any} haughtiness {on their part}. Now then, do not

expect the plot of the Play; the old men[20] who come first will

disclose it in part; a part in the representation they will make

known. Do you cause your impartial attention to increase the industry

of the Poet in writing.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

_Enter MICIO, calling to a servant within._

MIC. Storax! Æschinus has not returned {home} from the entertainment

last night, nor any of the servants who went to fetch him.[21] (_To

himself._) Really, they say it with reason, if you are absent any

where, or if you stay abroad at any time, ’twere better for that to

happen which {your} wife says against you, and which in her passion

she imagines in her mind, than the things which fond parents {fancy}.

A wife, if you stay long abroad, either imagines that you are in love

or are beloved, or that you are drinking and indulging your

inclination, and that you only are taking your pleasure, while she

herself is miserable. As for myself, in consequence of my son not

having returned home, what do I imagine? In what ways am I not

disturbed? For fear lest he may either have taken cold,[22] or have

fallen down somewhere, or have broken some {limb}. Oh dear! that any

man should take it into his head, or find out what is dearer {to him}

than he is to himself! And yet he is not my son, but my brother’s. He

is quite different in disposition. I, from my very youth upward, have

lived a comfortable town life, and {taken} my ease; and, what they

esteem a piece of luck, I have never had a wife. He, on the contrary

to all this, has spent his life in the country, {and} has always lived

laboriously and penuriously. He married a wife, {and} has two sons.

This one, the elder of them, I have adopted. I have brought him up

from an infant, {and} considered {and} loved him as my own. In him I

centre my delight; this {object} alone is dear to me. On the other

hand, I take all due care that he may hold me equally dear. I give-- I

overlook; I do not judge it necessary to exert my authority in every

thing; in fine, the things that youth prompts to, {and} that others do

unknown to their fathers, I have used my son not to conceal from me.

For he, who, as the practice is, will dare to tell a lie to or to

deceive his father, will still more dare {to do so} to others. I think

it better to restrain children through a sense of shame and liberal

treatment, than through fear. On these points my brother does not

agree with me, nor do they please him. He often comes to me

exclaiming, “What are you about, Micio? Why do you ruin for us this

youth? Why does he intrigue? Why does he drink? Why do you supply him

with the means for these goings on? You indulge him with too much

dress; you are very inconsiderate.” He himself is too strict, beyond

what is just and reasonable; and he is very much mistaken, in my

opinion, at all events, who thinks that an authority is more firm or

more lasting which is established by force, than that which is founded

on affection. Such is my mode of reasoning; and thus do I persuade

myself. He, who, compelled by harsh treatment, does his duty, so long

as he thinks it will be known, is on his guard: if he hopes that it

will be concealed, he again returns to his natural bent. He whom you

have secured by kindness, acts from inclination; he is anxious to

return like for like; present and absent, he will be the same. This is

the duty of a parent, to accustom a son to do what is right rather of

his own choice, than through fear of another. In this the father

differs from the master: he who can not do this, let him confess that

he does not know how to govern children. But is not this the very man

of whom I was speaking? Surely it is he. I don’t know why it is I see

him out of spirits; I suppose he’ll now be scolding as usual. Demea,

I am glad to see you well.[23]

SCENE II.

_Enter DEMEA._

DEM. Oh,-- opportunely met; you are the very man I was looking

for.[24]

MIC. Why are you out of spirits?

DEM. Do you ask me, when we have {such a son as} Æschinus,[25] why I’m

out of spirits?

MIC. (_aside._) Did I not say it would be so? (_To DEMEA._) What has

he been doing?

DEM. What has he been doing? He, who is ashamed of nothing, and fears

no one, nor thinks that any law can control him. But I pass by what

has been previously done: what a thing he has just perpetrated!

MIC. Why, what is it?

DEM. He has broken open a door,[26] and forced his way into another

person’s house, beaten to death the master himself, and all the

household, {and} carried off a wench whom he had a fancy for. All

people are exclaiming that it was a most disgraceful proceeding. How

many, Micio, told me of this as I was coming here? It is in every

body’s mouth. In fine, if an example must be cited, does he not see

his brother giving his attention to business, {and} living frugally

and soberly in the country? No action of his {is} like this. When I

say this to him, Micio, I say it to you. You allow him to be

corrupted.

MIC. Never is there any thing more unreasonable than a man who wants

experience, who thinks nothing right except what he himself has done.

DEM. What is the meaning of that?

MIC. Because, Demea, you misjudge these matters. It is no heinous

crime, believe me, for a young man to intrigue or to drink; it is not;

nor yet for him to break open a door. If neither I nor you did so, it

was poverty that did not allow us to do {so}. Do you now claim that as

a merit to yourself, which you then did from necessity? That is

unfair; for if we had had the means to do so, we should have done {the

same}. And, if you were a man, you would now suffer that {other son}

of yours to act {thus} now, while his age will excuse it, rather than,

when he has got you, after long wishing it, out of the way, he should

still do {so}, at a future day, {and} at an age more unsuited.

DEM. O Jupiter! You, sir, are driving me to distraction. Is it not a

heinous thing for a young man to do these things?

MIC. Oh! do listen to me, and do not everlastingly din me upon this

subject. You gave me your son to adopt; he became mine; if he offends

in any thing, Demea, he offends against me: in that case I shall bear

the greater part {of the inconvenience}. Does he feast,[27] does he

drink, does he smell of perfumes,[28]-- it is at my cost. Does he

intrigue, money shall be found by me, so long as it suits me; when it

shall be no {longer convenient}, probably he’ll be shut out of

doors.[29] Has he broken open a door-- it shall be replaced; has he

torn any one’s clothes-- they shall be mended. Thanks to the Gods,

I both have means for doing this, and {these things} are not as yet an

annoyance. In fine, either desist, or else find some arbitrator

{between us}: I will show that in this matter you are the most to

blame.

DEM. Ah me! Learn to be a father from those who are really so.

MIC. You are his father by nature, I by my anxiety.

DEM. You, feel any anxiety?

MIC. Oh dear,-- if you persist, I’ll leave you.

DEM. Is it thus you act?

MIC. Am I so often to hear about the same thing?

DEM. I have some concern {for my son}.

MIC. I have some concern {for him} too; but, Demea, let us each be

concerned for his own share-- you for the one, and I for the other.

For, to concern yourself about both is almost the same thing as to

demand him back again, whom you intrusted to me.

DEM. Alas, Micio!

MIC. So it seems to me.

DEM. What {am I to say} to this? If it pleases you, {henceforth}-- let

him spend, squander, {and} destroy; it’s nothing to me. If I {say} one

word after this----

MIC. Again angry, Demea?

DEM. Won’t you believe me? Do I demand him back whom I have intrusted?

I am concerned for him; I am not a stranger in blood; if I do

interpose-- well, well, I have done. You desire me to concern myself

for one {of them},-- I do concern myself; and I give thanks to the

Gods, he is just as I would have him; that fellow of yours will find

it out at a future day: I don’t wish to say any thing more harsh

against him. (_Exit._

SCENE III.

_MICIO alone._

MIC. These things are[30] not nothing at all, nor yet all just as he

says; still they do give me some uneasiness; but I was unwilling to

show him that I took them amiss, for he is such a man; when I would

pacify him, I steadily oppose and resist {him}; {and} in spite of it

he hardly puts up with it like other men; but if I were to inflame, or

even to humor his anger, I should certainly be as mad as himself. And

yet Æschinus has done me some injustice in this affair. What courtesan

has he not intrigued with? Or to which {of them} has he not made some

present? At last, he recently told me that he wished to take a

wife,[31] I suppose he was just then tired of them all. I was in hopes

that the warmth of youth had now subsided; I was delighted. But look

{now}, he is at it again; however, I am determined to know it,

whatever it is, and to go meet the fellow, if he is at the Forum.

(_Exit._

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.

_Enter ÆSCHINUS and PARMENO with the MUSIC-GIRL, followed by SANNIO

and a crowd of people._

SAN. I beseech you, fellow-citizens, do give aid to a miserable and

innocent man; do assist the distressed.

ÆSCH. (_to the GIRL._) Be quiet, and now then stand here just where

you are. Why do you look back? There’s no danger; he shall never touch

you while I am here.

SAN. I’ll {have} her, in spite of all.

ÆSCH. Though he is a villain, he’ll not risk, to-day, getting a

second beating.

SAN. Hear me, Aeschinus, that you may not say that you were in

ignorance of my calling; I am a Procurer.[32]

ÆSCH. I know it.

SAN. And of as high a character as any one ever was. When you shall be

excusing yourself by-and-by, how that you wish this injury had not

been done me, I shall not value it this (_snapping his fingers_).

Depend upon it, I’ll prosecute my rights; and you shall never pay with

words for the evil that you have done me in deed. I know those {ways}

of yours: “I wish it hadn’t happened; I’ll take my oath that you did

not deserve this injustice;” while I myself have been treated in a

disgraceful manner.

ÆSCH. (_to PARMENO._) Go first with all dispatch and open the door.

(_PARMENO opens the door._)

SAN. But you will avail nothing by this.

ÆSCH. (_To the GIRL._) Now then, step in.

SAN. (_coming between._) But I’ll not let her.

ÆSCH. Step this way, Parmeno; you are gone too far that way; here

(_pointing_), stand close by him; there, that’s what I want. Now then,

take care you don’t move your eyes in any direction from mine, that

there may be no delay if I give you the sign, to your fist being

instantly planted in his jaws.

SAN. I’d have him then try that.

ÆSCH. (_to PARMENO._) Now then, observe me.

PAR. (_to SANNIO._) Let go the woman. (_Strikes him._)

SAN. Oh! scandalous deed!

ÆSCH. He shall repeat it, if you don’t take care. (_PARMENO strikes

him again._)

SAN. Oh shocking!

ÆSCH. (_to PARMENO._) I didn’t give the sign; but still make your

mistakes on that side in preference. Now then, go. (_PARMENO goes with

the MUSIC-GIRL into MICIO’S house._)

SAN. What is the meaning of this? Have you the sway here, Aeschinus?

ÆSCH. If I had it, you should be exalted for your deserts.

SAN. What business have you with me?

ÆSCH. None.

SAN. How then, do you know who I am?

ÆSCH. I don’t want to.

SAN. Have I touched any thing of yours?

ÆSCH. If you had touched it, you’d have got a drubbing.

SAN. What greater right then have you to take my {property}, for which

I paid {my} money? Answer me that.

ÆSCH. It were better for you not to be making a disturbance here

before the house; for if you persist in being impertinent, you shall

be dragged in at once, and there you shall be lashed to death with

whips.

SAN. A free man, with whips?

ÆSCH. So it shall be.

SAN. Oh, you shameless fellow! Is this the place where they say there

is equal liberty for all?

ÆSCH. If you have now raved enough, Procurer, now then listen, if you

please.

SAN. Why, is it I that have been raving, or you against me?

ÆSCH. Leave alone {all} that, and come to the point.

SAN. What point? Where am I to come to?

ÆSCH. Are you willing now that I should say something that concerns

you?

SAN. With all my heart, only so it be something that’s fair.

ÆSCH. Very fine! a Procurer wishing me not to say what’s unfair.

SAN. I am a Procurer,[33] I confess it-- the common bane of youth-- a

perjurer, a {public} nuisance; still, no injury has befallen you from

me.

ÆSCH. Why, faith, that remains to come----

SAN. Pray, Æschinus, do come back to the point at which you set out.

ÆSCH. You bought her for twenty minæ; and may your bargain never

thrive! That sum shall be given {for her}.

SAN. What if I don’t choose to sell her to you? Will you compel me?

ÆSCH. By no means.

SAN. I was afraid you would.

ÆSCH. Neither do I think that a woman can be sold who is free; for I

claim her by action of freedom.[34] Now consider which you choose;

take the money, or prepare yourself for the action. Think of it,

Procurer, till I return.[35] (_He goes into the house of MICIO._)

SCENE II.

_SANNIO alone._

SAN. (_to himself._) O supreme Jupiter! I do by no means wonder that

men run mad through ill usage. He has dragged me out of my house,

beaten me, taken my {property} away against my will, {and} has given

me, unfortunate wretch, more than five hundred blows. In return for

all this ill usage he demands {the girl} to be made over to him for

just the same price at which she was bought. But however, since he has

{so well} deserved {of me}, be it so: he demands what is his due. Very

well, I consent then, provided he only gives the money. But I suspect

this; when I have said that I will sell her for so much, he’ll be

getting witnesses forthwith that I have sold her.[36] As to getting

the money, it’s all a dream. {Call again} by and by; come back

to-morrow. I could bear with that too, hard as it is, if he would only

pay it. But I consider this to be the fact; when you take up this

trade, you must brook and bear in silence the affronts of {these}

young fellows. However, no one will pay me; it’s in vain for me to be

reckoning upon that.

SCENE III.

_Enter SYRUS, from the house of MICIO._

SYR. (_speaking to ÆSCHINUS within._) Say no more; I myself will

arrange with him; I’ll make him glad to take the money at once, and

say besides that he has been fairly dealt with. (_Addressing SANNIO._)

Sannio, how is this, that I hear you have been having some dispute or

other with my master?

SAN. I never saw a dispute on more unequal terms[37] than the one that

has happened to-day between us; I, with being thumped, he, with

beating me, were both of us quite tired.

SYR. Your own fault.

SAN. What could I do?

SYR. You ought to have yielded to the young man.

SAN. How could I more so, when to-day I have even afforded my face to

his blows?

SYR. Well-- are you aware of what I tell you? To slight money on some

occasions is sometimes the surest gain. What! --were you afraid, you

greatest simpleton alive, if you had parted with ever so little[38] of

your right, and had humored the young man, that he would not repay you

with interest?

SAN. I do not pay ready money for hope.

SYR. {Then} you’ll never make a fortune. Get out with you, Sannio; you

don’t know how to take in mankind.

SAN. I believe that to be the better {plan}-- but I was never so

cunning as not, whenever I was able to get it, to prefer getting ready

money.

SYR. Come, come, I know your spirit; as if twenty minæ were any thing

at all to you in comparison to obliging him; besides, they say that

you are setting out for Cyprus----

SAN. (_aside._) Hah!

SYR. That you have been buying up many things to take thither; {and}

that the vessel is hired. This I know, your mind is in suspense;

however, when you return thence, I hope you’ll settle the matter.

SAN. Not a foot {do I stir}: Heavens! I’m undone! (_Aside._) It was

upon this hope they devised their project.

SYR. (_aside._) He is alarmed. I’ve brought the fellow into a fix.

SAN. (_aside._) Oh, what villainy! --Just look at that; how he has

nicked me in the very joint.[39] Several women have been purchased,

and other things as well, for me to take to Cyprus.[40] If I don’t get

there to the fair, my loss will be very great. Then if I postpone this

{business}, and settle it when I come back from there, it will be of

no use; the matter will be quite forgotten. “Come at last?” {they’ll

say}. “Why did you delay it? Where have you been?” So that I had

better lose it altogether than either stay here so long, or be suing

for it then.

SYR. Have you by this reckoned[41] up what you calculate will be your

profits?

SAN. Is this honorable of him? Ought Æschinus to attempt this? Ought

he to endeavor to take her away from me by downright violence?

SYR. (_aside._) He gives ground. (_To SANNIO._) I have this one

{proposal to make}; see if you fully approve of it. Rather than you

should run the risk, Sannio, of getting or losing the whole, halve it.

He will manage to scrape together ten minæ[42] from some quarter or

other.

SAN. Ah me! unfortunate wretch, I am now in danger of even losing part

of the principal. Has he no shame? He has loosened all my teeth; my

head, too, is full of bumps with his cuffs; and would he defraud me as

well? I shall go nowhere.

SYR. Just as you please. Have you any thing more to say before I go?

SAN. Why yes, Syrus, i’ faith, I have this to request. Whatever the

matters that are past, rather than go to law, let what is my own be

returned me; at least, Syrus, the sum she cost me. I know that you

have not hitherto made trial of my friendship; you will have no

occasion to say that I am unmindful or ungrateful.

SYR. I’ll do the best I can. But I see Ctesipho; he’s in high spirits

about his mistress.

SAN. What about what I was asking you?

SYR. Stay a little.

SCENE IV.

_Enter CTESIPHO, at the other side of the stage._

CTES. From any man, when you stand in need of it, you are glad to

receive a service; but of a truth it is doubly acceptable, if he does

you a kindness who ought to do so. O brother, brother, how can I

sufficiently commend you? This I am quite sure of; I can never speak

of you in such high terms but that your deserts will surpass it. For I

am of opinion that I possess this one thing in especial beyond all

others, a brother than whom no individual is more highly endowed with

the highest qualities.

SYR. O Ctesipho!

CTES. O Syrus, where is Æschinus?

SYR. Why, look-- he’s at home, waiting for you.

CTES. (_speaking joyously._) Ha!

SYR. What’s the matter?

CTES. What’s the matter? ’Tis through him, Syrus, that I am now

alive-- generous creature! Has he not deemed every thing of secondary

importance to himself in comparison with my happiness? The reproach,

the discredit, my own amour and imprudence, he has taken upon himself.

There can be nothing beyond this; but what means that noise at the

door?

SYR. Stay, stay; ’tis {Æschinus} himself coming out.

SCENE V.

_Enter ÆSCHINUS, from the house of MICIO._

ÆSCH. Where is that villain?

SAN. (_aside._) He’s looking for me.[43] Is he bringing any thing

{with him}? Confusion! I don’t see any thing.

ÆSCH. (_to CTESIPHO._) Ha! well met; you are the very man I was

looking for. How goes it, Ctesipho? All is safe: away then with your

melancholy.

CTES. By my troth, I certainly will away with it, when I have such a

brother as you. O my {dear} Æschinus! O my brother! Alas! I am

unwilling to praise you any more to your face, lest you should think I

do so rather for flattery than through gratitude.

ÆSCH. Go to, you simpleton! as though we didn’t by this time

understand each other, Ctesipho. This grieves me, that we knew of it

almost too late, and that the matter had come to such a pass, that if

all mankind had wished they could not possibly have assisted you.

CTES. I felt ashamed.

ÆSCH. Pooh! that is folly, not shame; about such a trifling matter

{to be} almost {flying} the country![44] ’Tis shocking to be

mentioned; I pray the Gods may forbid it!

CTES. I did wrong.

ÆSCH. (_in a lower voice._) What says Sannio to us at last?

SYR. He is pacified at last.

ÆSCH. I’ll go to the Forum to pay him off; you, Ctesipho, {step}

in-doors to her.

SAN. (_aside to SYRUS._) Syrus, do urge {the matter}.

SYR. (_to ÆSCHINUS._) Let us be off, for he is in haste for

Cyprus.[45]

SAN. Not particularly so; although still, I’m stopping here doing

nothing at all.

SYR. It shall be paid, don’t fear.

SAN. But he is to pay it all.

SYR. He shall pay it all; only hold your tongue and follow {us} this

way.

SAN. I’ll follow.

CTES. (_as SYRUS is going._) Harkye, harkye, Syrus.

SYR. (_turning back._) Well now, what is it?

CTES. (_aside._) Pray do discharge that most abominable fellow as soon

as possible; for fear, in case he should become more angry, by some

means or other this matter should reach my father, and then I should

be ruined forever.

SYR. That shall not happen, be of good heart; meanwhile enjoy yourself

in-doors with her, and onder the couches[46] to be spread for us, and

the other things to be got ready. As soon as {this} business is

settled, I shall come home with the provisions.

CTES. Pray {do} so. Since this has turned out so well, let us make a

cheerful day of it. (_CTESIPHO goes into the house of MICIO; and

exeunt ÆSCHINUS and SYRUS, followed by SANNIO._)

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

_Enter SOSTRATA and CANTHARA, from the house of the former._

SOS. Prithee, my {dear} nurse, how is it like to end?

CAN. Like to end, do you ask? I’troth, right well, I trust.

SOS. Her pains are just beginning, my dear.

CAN. You are in a fright now, just as though you had never been

present {on such an occasion}-- never been in labor yourself.

SOS. Unfortunate woman that I am! I have not a person {at home}; we

are quite alone; Geta too is absent. I have no one to go for the

midwife, or to fetch Æschinus.

CAN. I’faith, he’ll certainly be here just now, for he never lets a

day pass without visiting us.

SOS. He is my sole comfort in my afflictions.

CAN. Things could not have happened, mistress, more for the advantage

of your daughter than they have, seeing that violence was offered her;

so far as he is concerned, it is most lucky,-- such a person, of such

disposition and feelings, a member of so respectable a family.

SOS. It is indeed as you say; I entreat the Gods that he may be

preserved to us. (_They stand apart, on seeing GETA._)

SCENE II.

_Enter GETA, on the other side of the stage._

GETA (_to himself._) Now such is {our condition}, that if all were to

combine all their counsels, and to seek a remedy for this mischief

that has befallen myself, my mistress, and her daughter, they could

find no relief. Oh wretched me! so many calamities beset us on a

sudden, we can not possibly extricate ourselves. Violence, poverty,

oppression, desertion, infamy! What an age is this! O {shocking}

villainy! O accursed race! O impious man!--

SOS. Unhappy me! How is it that I see Geta hurrying along thus

terrified?

GETA (_continuing._) Whom neither promises, nor oaths, nor compassion

could move or soften; nor yet the fact that the delivery was nigh at

hand of the unfortunate woman on whom he had so shamefully committed

violence.

SOS. (_apart to CANTHARA._) I don’t well understand what he is talking

about.

CAN. Pray, let us go nearer to him, Sostrata.

GETA (_continuing._) Ah wretched me! I am scarcely master of my

senses, I am so inflamed with anger. There is nothing that I would

like better than for all that family to be thrown in my way, that I

might give vent to all {my} wrath upon them while this wound is still

fresh. I could be content with any punishment, so I might only wreak

my vengeance on them. First, I would stop the breath of the old fellow

himself who gave being to this monster; then as for his prompter,

Syrus, out upon him! how I would tear him piecemeal! I would snatch

him by the middle up aloft, and dash him head downward upon the earth,

so that with his brains he would bestrew the road: I would pull out

the eyes of the young fellow himself, {and} afterward hurl him

headlong {over some precipice}. The others I would rush upon, drive,

drag, crush, and trample them {under foot}. But why do I delay at once

to acquaint my mistress with this calamity? (_Moves as if going._)

SOS. (_to CANTHARA._) Let us call him back. Geta----

GETA. Well-- leave me alone,[47] whoever you are.

SOS. ’Tis I,-- Sostrata.

GETA (_turning round._) Why, where are you? You are the very person I

am looking for. I was in quest of you; it’s very fortunate you have

met me.

SOS. What’s the matter? Why are you trembling?

GETA. Alas! Alas!

SOS. My {dear} Geta, why in such haste? Do take breath.

GETA. Quite-- (_pauses._)

SOS. Why, what means this “quite”?

GETA. Undone-- It’s all over with us.

SOS. Say, then, I entreat you, what is the matter.

GETA. Now----

SOS. What “now,” Geta?

GETA. Æschinus----

SOS. What about him?

GETA. Has abandoned our family.

SOS. Then I am undone! Why so?

GETA. He has attached himself to another woman.

SOS. Woe unto wretched me!

GETA. And he makes no secret of it; he himself has carried her off

openly from a procurer.

SOS. Are you quite sure of this?

GETA. Quite sure; I saw it myself, Sostrata, with these same eyes.

SOS. Ah wretched me! What is one now to believe, or whom believe? Our

own Æschinus, the {very} life of us all, in whom all our hopes and

comforts were centred! Who used to swear he could never live a single

day without her! Who used to say, that he would place the infant on

his father’s knees,[48] {and} thus entreat that he might be allowed to

make her his wife!

GETA. {Dear} mistress, forbear weeping, and rather consider what must

be done for the future in this matter. Shall we submit to it, or shall

we tell it to any person?

CAN. Pooh, pooh! are you in your senses, my {good} man? Does this seem

to you a business to be made known to any one?

GETA. I, indeed, have no wish for it. In the first place, then, that

his feelings are estranged from us, the thing itself declares. Now, if

we make this known, he’ll deny it, I’m quite sure; your reputation and

your daughter’s character will {then} be in danger. On the other hand,

if he were fully to confess it, as he is in love with another woman,

it would not be to her advantage to be given to him. Therefore, under

either circumstance, there is need of silence.

SOS. Oh! by no means in the world! I’ll not do it.

GETA. What is it you say?

SOS. I’ll make it known.

GETA. Ha, my {dear} Sostrata, take care what you do!

SOS. The matter can not possibly be in a worse position than it is at

present. In the first place, she has no portion; then, besides, that

which was as good as a portion, {her honor}, is lost: she can not be

given in marriage as a virgin. This {resource} is left; if he should

deny it, I have a ring which he lost as evidence {of the truth}. In

fine, Geta, as I am fully conscious that no blame attaches to me, and

that neither interest nor any consideration unworthy of her or of

myself has had a share in this matter, I will make trial----

GETA. What am I to say to this? I agree, as you speak for the best.

SOS. You be off as fast as possible, and relate all the matter just as

it has happened to her kinsman Hegio; for he was the best friend of

our {lamented} Simulus, and has shown especial regard for us.

GETA. (_aside._) Aye, faith, because nobody else takes any notice {of

us}.

SOS. Do you, my {dear} Canthara, run with all haste, {and} fetch the

midwife, so that, when she is wanted, we may not have to wait for her.

(_SOSTRATA goes into the house, and exit GETA and CANTHARA._)

SCENE III.

_Enter DEMEA._

DEM. (_to himself._) Utterly undone! I hear that Ctesipho was with

Æschinus at the carrying off {of this girl}. This sorrow {still}

remains for unhappy me, should {Æschinus} be able to seduce him, even

him, who promises so fair, to a course of debauchery. Where am I to

inquire for him? I doubt he has been carried off to some bad house;

that profligate has persuaded him, I’m quite sure. But look-- I see

Syrus coming {this way}, I shall now know from him where he is. But,

i’faith, he is one of the gang; if he perceives that I am looking for

him, the rascal will never tell me. I’ll not let him know what I want.

SCENE IV.

_Enter SYRUS, at the other side of the stage._

SYR. (_to himself._) We just now told the old gentleman the whole

affair just as it happened; I never did see any one more delighted.

DEM. (_apart._) O Jupiter! the folly of the man!

SYR. (_continuing._) He commended his son. To me, who put them upon

this project, he gave thanks----

DEM. (_apart_) I shall burst asunder.

SYR. (_continuing._) He told down the money instantly, {and} gave me

half a mina besides to spend. That was laid out quite to my liking.

DEM. (_apart._) Very fine-- if you would wish a thing to be nicely

managed, intrust it to this {fellow}.

SYR. (_overhearing him._) Ha, Demea! I didn’t see you; how goes it?

DEM. How should it go? I can not enough wonder at your mode of living

{here}.

SYR. Why, really silly enough, and, to speak without disguise,

{altogether} absurd. (_Calls at the door of MICIO’S house._) Dromo,

clean the rest of the fish; let the largest conger-eel play a little

in the water; when I come {back} it shall be boned;[49] not before.

DEM. Is profligacy like this----

SYR. As for myself, it isn’t to my taste, and I often exclaim {against

it}. (_Calls at the door._) Stephanio, take care that the salt fish is

well soaked.

DEM. Ye Gods, by our trust in you! is he doing this for any purpose of

his own, or does he think it creditable to ruin {his} son? Wretch that

I am! methinks I already see the day when {Æschinus} will be running

away for want, to serve somewhere or other as a soldier.[50]

SYR. O Demea! that is wisdom {indeed},-- not only to look at the

present moment, but also to look forward to what’s to come.

DEM. Well-- is this Music-girl still with you?

SYR. Why, yes, she’s in-doors.

DEM. How now-- is he going to keep her at home?

SYR. I believe so; such is his madness!

DEM. Is it possible?

SYR. An imprudent lenity in his father, and a vicious indulgence.

DEM. Really, I am ashamed and grieved at my brother.

SYR. Demea! between you there is a great-- I do not say it because you

are here present-- a too great difference. You are, every bit of you,

nothing but wisdom; he a {mere} dreamer. Would you indeed have

suffered that son of yours to act thus?

DEM. I, suffer him? Would I not have smelt it out six months before he

attempted it?

SYR. Need I be told by you of your foresight?

DEM. I pray he may only continue the same he is at present!

SYR. Just as each person wishes his son to be, so he turns out.

DEM. What news of him? Have you seen him to-day?

SYR. What, your son? (_Aside._) I’ll pack him off into the country.

(_To DEMEA._) I fancy he’s busy at the farm long before this.

DEM. Are you quite sure he is there?

SYR. What! --when I saw him part of the way {myself}----

DEM. Very good. I was afraid he might be loitering here.

SYR. And extremely angry too.

DEM. Why so?

SYR. He attacked his brother in the Forum with strong language about

this Music-girl.

DEM. Do you really say so?

SYR. Oh dear, he didn’t at all mince the matter; for just as the money

was being counted out, the gentleman came upon us by chance, {and}

began exclaiming, “Oh Æschinus, that you should perpetrate these

enormities! that you should be guilty of actions {so} disgraceful to

our family!”

DEM. Oh, I shall weep for joy.

SYR. “By this you are not squandering your money {only}, but your

reputation.”

DEM. May he be preserved to me! I trust he will be like his

forefathers. (_Weeping._)

SYR. (_aside._) Heyday!

DEM. Syrus, he is full of these maxims.

SYR. (_aside._) Strange, indeed! He had the means at home of learning

them.

DEM. I do every thing I can; I spare no pains; I train him up to it:

in fine, I bid him look into the lives of men, as though into a

mirror, and from others to take an example for himself. Do this, {I

say}----

SYR. Quite right.

DEM. Avoid that----

SYR. Very shrewd.

DEM. This is praiseworthy----

SYR. That’s the thing.

DEM. That is considered blamable----

SYR. Extremely good.

DEM. And then, moreover----

SYR. Upon my honor, I have not the leisure to listen to you just at

present: I have got some fish just to my taste, {and} must take care

they are not spoiled; for that would be as much a crime in me, as for

you, Demea, not to observe those maxims which you have just been

mentioning; and so far as I can, I lay down precepts for my

fellow-servants on the very same plan; “this is {too} salt, that is

quite burned up, this is not washed enough, that is {very} well done;

remember {and do} so another time.” I carefully instruct them so far

as I can to the best of my capacity. In short, Demea, I bid them look

into their sauce-pans as though into a mirror,[51] and suggest to them

what they ought to do. I am sensible these things are trifling which

we do; but what is one to do? According as the man is, so must you

humor him. Do you wish any thing else?

DEM. That more wisdom may be granted you.

SYR. You will be going off into the country, {I suppose}?

DEM. Directly.

SYR. For what should you do here, where, if you do give any good

precepts, no one will regard them? (_Goes into MICIO’S house._)

SCENE V.

_DEMEA, alone._

DEM. (_to himself._) I certainly will be off, as he on whose account I

came hither has gone into the country. I have a care for him: that

alone is my own concern, since my brother will have it so; let him

look to the other himself. But who is it I see yonder at a distance?

Isn’t it Hegio of our tribe?[52] If I see right, i’faith, it is he.

Ah, a man I have been friendly with from a child! Good Gods! we

certainly have a great dearth of citizens of that stamp nowadays, with

the old-fashioned virtue and honesty. Not in a hurry will any

misfortune accrue to the public from him. How glad I am to find some

remnants of this race even still remaining; now I feel some pleasure

in living. I’ll wait here for him, to ask him how he is, and have some

conversation with him.

SCENE VI.

_Enter HEGIO and GETA, conversing, at a distance._

HEG. Oh immortal Gods! a disgraceful action, Geta! What is it you tell

me?

GETA. Such is the fact.

HEG. That so ignoble a deed should come from that family! Oh Æschinus,

assuredly you haven’t taken after your father in that!

DEM. (_apart._) Why surely, he has heard this about the Music-girl;

that gives him concern, {though} a stranger; this father {of his}

thinks nothing of it. Ah me! I wish he were somewhere close at hand to

overhear this.

HEG. Unless they do as they ought to do, they shall not come off so

easily.

GETA. All our hopes, Hegio, are centred in you; you we have for {our}

only {friend}; you are our protector, our father. The old man,

{Simulus}, when dying, recommended us to you; if you forsake us, we

are undone.

HEG. Beware how you mention {that}; I neither will do it, nor do I

think thaat; with due regard to the ties of relationship, I could.

DEM. (_apart._) I’ll accost him. (_Approaches HEGIO._) Hegio, I bid

you welcome right heartily.

HEG. (_starting._) Oh! I you are the very man I was looking for.

Greetings to you, Demea.

DEM. Why, what’s the matter?

HEG. Your eldest son Æschinus, whom you gave to your brother to adopt,

has been acting the part of neither an honest man nor a gentleman.

DEM. What has he been doing?

HEG. You knew my friend and year’s-mate, Simulus?

DEM. Why not?

HEG. He has debauched his daughter, a virgin.

DEM. Hah!

HEG. Stay, Demea. You have not yet heard the worst.

DEM. Is there any thing still worse?

HEG. Worse, by far: for this indeed might in some measure have been

borne with. The hour of night prompted him; passion, wine, young

blood; ’tis human nature. When he was sensible of what he had done, he

came voluntarily to the girl’s mother, weeping, praying, entreating,

pledging his honor, vowing that he would take her home.[53] {The

affair} was pardoned, hushed, up, his word taken. The girl from that

intercourse became pregnant: {this} is the tenth month. He, worthy

fellow, has provided himself, if it please the Gods, with a Music-girl

to live with; the other he has cast off.

DEM. Do you say this for certain?

HEG. The mother of the young woman is among us,[54] the young woman

too; the fact {speaks for} itself; this Geta, besides, according to

the common run of servants, not a bad one or of idle habits; he

supports them; alone, maintains the whole family; take him, bind

him,[55] examine him upon the matter.

GETA. Aye, faith, put me to the torture, Demea, if such is not the

fact: besides, he will not deny it. Confront me with him.

DEM. (_aside._) I am ashamed; and what to do, or how to answer him,

I don’t know.

PAM. (_crying out within the house of SOSTRATA._) Ah me! I am racked

with pains! Juno Lucina,[56] bring aid, save me, I beseech thee!

HEG. Hold; is she in labor, pray?

GETA. No doubt of it, Hegio.

HEG. Ah! she is now imploring your protection, Demea; let her obtain

from you spontaneously what the power {of the law} compels you to

give. I do entreat the Gods that what befits you may at once be done.

But if your sentiments are otherwise, Demea, I will defend both them

and him who is dead to the utmost of my power. He was my kinsman:[57]

we were brought up together from children, we were companions in the

wars and at home, together we experienced the hardships of poverty.

I will therefore exert myself, strive, use all methods, in fine lay

down my life, rather than forsake these women. What answer do you give

me?

DEM. I’ll go find my brother, Hegio: the advice he gives me upon this

matter I’ll follow.[58]

HEG. But, Demea, take you care and reflect upon this: the more easy

you are in your circumstances, the more powerful, wealthy, affluent,

{and} noble you are, so much the more ought you with equanimity to

observe {the dictates of} justice, if you would have yourselves

esteemed as men of probity.

DEM. Go back {now};[59] every thing shall be done that is proper to be

done.

HEG. It becomes you to act {thus}. Geta, show me in to Sostrata.

(_Follows GETA into SOSTRATA’S house._)

DEM. (_to himself._) Not without warning on my part have these things

happened: I only wish it may end here; but this immoderate indulgence

will undoubtedly lead to some great misfortune. I’ll go find my

brother, and vent these feelings upon him. (_Exit._

SCENE VII.

_Enter HEGIO, from SOSTRATA’S house, and speaking to her within._

HEG. Be of good heart,[60] Sostrata, and take care and console her as

far as you can. I’ll go find Micio, if he is at the Forum, and

acquaint him with the whole circumstances in their order; if so it is

that he will do his duty {by you}, let him do so; but if his

sentiments are otherwise about this matter, let him give me his

answer, that I may know at once what I am to do. (_Exit._

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

_Enter CTESIPHO and SYRUS from the house of MICIO._

CTES. My father gone into the country, say you?

SYR. (_with a careless air._) Some time since.

CTES. Do tell me, I beseech you.

SYR. He is at the farm at this very moment,[61] I warrant-- hard at

some work or other.

CTES. I really wish, provided it be done with no prejudice to his

health, I wish that he may so effectually tire himself, that, for the

next three days together, he may be unable to arise from his bed.

SYR. So be it, and any thing still better than that,[62] if possible.

CTES. Just so; for I do most confoundedly wish to pass this whole day

in merry-making as I have begun it; and for no reason do I detest that

farm so heartily as for its being so near {town}. If it were at a

greater distance, night would overtake him there before he could

return hither again. Now, when he doesn’t find me there, he’ll come

running back here, I’m quite sure; he’ll be asking me where I have

been, that I have not seen him all this day: what am I to say?

SYR. Does nothing suggest itself to your mind?

CTES. Nothing whatever.

SYR. So much the worse[63]-- have you no client, friend, or guest?

CTES. I have; what then?

SYR. You have been engaged with them.

CTES. When I have not been engaged? That can never do.

SYR. It may.

CTES. During the daytime; but if I pass the night here, what excuse

can I make, Syrus?

SYR. Dear me, how much I do wish it was the custom for one to be

engaged with friends at night as well! But you be easy; I know his

humor perfectly well. When he raves the most violently, I can make him

as gentle as a lamb.

CTES. In what way?

SYR. He loves to hear you praised: I make a god of you to him, {and}

recount your virtues.

CTES. What, mine?

SYR. Yours; immediately the tears fall from him as from a child, for

{very} joy. (_Starting._) Hah! take care----

CTES. Why, what’s the matter?

SYR. The wolf in the fable[64]----

CTES. What! my father?

SYR. His own self.

CTES. What shall we do, Syrus?

SYR. You only be off in-doors, I’ll see to that.

CTES. If he makes any inquiries, you {have seen} me nowhere; do you

hear?

SYR. Can you not be quiet? (_They retreat to the door of MICIO’S

house, and CTESIPHO stands in the doorway._)

SCENE II.

_Enter DEMEA, on the other side of the stage._

DEM. (_to himself._) I certainly am an unfortunate man. In the first

place, I can find my brother nowhere; and then, in the next place,

while looking for him, I met a day-laborer[65] from the farm; he says

that my son is not in the country, and what to do I know not----

CTES. (_apart._) Syrus!

SYR. (_apart._) What’s the matter?

CTES. (_apart._) Is he looking for me?

SYR. (_apart._) Yes.

CTES. (_apart._) Undone!

SYR. (_apart._) Nay, do be of good heart.

DEM. (_to himself._) Plague on it! what ill luck is this? I can not

really account for it, unless I suppose myself {only} born for the

purpose of enduring misery. I am the first to feel our misfortunes;

the first to know of them all; then the first to carry the news; I am

the only one, if any thing does go wrong, to take it to heart.

SYR. (_apart._) I’m amused at him; he says that he is the first to

know of {every thing, while} he is the only one ignorant of every

thing.

DEM. (_to himself._) I’ve now come back; and I’ll go see whether

perchance my brother has yet returned.

CTES. (_apart._) Syrus, pray do take care that he doesn’t suddenly

rush in upon us here.

SYR. (_apart._) Now will you hold your tongue? I’ll take care.

CTES. (_apart._) Never this day will I depend on your management for

that, upon my faith; for I’ll shut myself up with her in some

cupboard[66]-- that’s the safest. (_Goes into the house._)

SYR. (_apart._) Do so, still I’ll get rid of him.

DEM. (_seeing SYRUS._) But see! there’s that rascal, Syrus.

SYR. (_aloud, pretending not to see DEMEA._) Really, upon my faith, no

person can stay here, if this is to be the case! For my part, I should

like to know how many masters I have-- what a cursed condition this

is!

DEM. What’s he whining about? What does he mean? How say you, good

sir, is my brother at home?

SYR. What the plague do you talk to me about, “good sir”? I’m quite

distracted!

DEM. What’s the matter with you?

SYR. Do you ask the question? Ctesipho has been beating me, poor

wretch, and that Music-girl, almost to death.

DEM. Ha! what is it you tell me?

SYR. Aye, see how he has cut my lip. (_Pretends to point to it._)

DEM. For what reason?

SYR. He says that she was bought by my advice.

DEM. Did not you tell me, a short time since, that you had seen him on

his way into the country?

SYR. I did; but he afterward came back, raving like a madman; he

spared nobody-- ought he not to have been ashamed to beat an old man?

Him whom, only the other day, I used to carry about in my arms when

thus high? (_Showing._)

DEM. I commend him; O Ctesipho, you take after your father. Well, I do

pronounce you a man.

SYR. Commend him? Assuredly he will keep his hands to himself in

future, if he’s wise.

DEM. {’Twas done} with spirit.

SYR. Very much so, to be beating a poor woman, and me, a slave, who

didn’t dare strike him in return; heyday! very spirited indeed!

DEM. He could not {have done} better: he thought the same as I {did},

that you were the principal in this affair. But is my brother within?

SYR. He is not.

DEM. I’m thinking where to look for him.

SYR. I know where he is-- but I shall not tell you at present.

DEM. Ha! what’s that you say?

SYR. {I do say} so.

DEM. Then I’ll break your head for you this instant.

SYR. I can’t tell the person’s name {he’s gone to}, but I know the

place where he lives.

DEM. Tell me the place then.

SYR. Do you know the portico down this way, just by the shambles?

(_Pointing in the direction._)

DEM. How should I but know it?

SYR. Go straight along, right up that street; when you come there,

there is a descent right opposite that goes downward, go straight down

that; afterward, on this side (_extending one hand_), there is a

chapel: close by it is a narrow lane, where there’s also a great wild

fig-tree.

DEM. I know it.

SYR. Go through that--

DEM. But that lane is not a thoroughfare.

SYR. I’ faith, that’s true; dear, dear, would you take me to be in my

senses?[67] I made a mistake. Return to the portico; indeed that will

be a much nearer way, and there is less going round about: you know

the house of Cratinus, the rich man?

DEM. I know it.

SYR. When you have passed that, keep straight along that street on the

left hand;[68] when you come to the Temple of Diana, turn to the

right; before you come to the {city} gate,[69] just by that pond,

there is a baker’s shop, and opposite to it a joiner’s; there he is.

DEM. What is he doing there?

SYR. He has given some couches to be made, with oaken legs, for use in

the open air.[70]

DEM. For you to carouse upon! Very fine! But {why} do I delay going to

him? (_Exit._)

SCENE III.

_SYRUS alone._

SYR. Go, by all means. I’ll work you to day, {you} skeleton,[71] as

you deserve. Æschinus loiters intolerably; the breakfast’s spoiling;

and as for Ctesipho, he’s head and ears in love.[72] I shall now think

of myself, for I’ll be off at once, and pick out the very nicest bit,

and, leisurely sipping my cups,[73] I’ll lengthen out the day. (_Goes

into the house._)

SCENE IV.

_Enter MICIO and HEGIO._

MIC. I can see no reason here, Hegio, that I should be so greatly

commended. I do my duty; the wrong that has originated with us I

redress. Unless, perhaps, you thought me one of that class of men who

think that an injury is purposely done them if you expostulate about

any thing they have done; and yet are {themselves} the first to

accuse. Because I have not acted thus, do you return me thanks?

HEG. Oh, far from it; I never led myself to believe you to be

otherwise than you are; but I beg, Micio, that you will go with me to

the mother of the young woman, and {repeat to her} the same; what you

have told me, do you yourself tell the woman, that this suspicion of

{Æschinus’s fidelity} was incurred on his brother’s account, {and}

that this Music-girl was for him.

MIC. If you think I ought, or if there is a necessity for doing so,

let us go.

HEG. You act with kindness; for you’ll then both have relieved her

mind who is {now} languishing in sorrow and affliction, and have

discharged your duty. But if you think otherwise, I will tell her

myself what you have been saying to me.

MIC. Nay, I’ll go as well.

HEG. You act with kindness; all who are in distressed circumstances

are suspicious,[74] to I know not what degree; they take every thing

too readily as an affront; they fancy themselves trifled with on

account of their helpless condition; therefore it will be more

satisfactory for you to justify him to them yourself. (_They go into

the house of SOSTRATA._)

SCENE V.

_Enter ÆSCHINUS._

I am quite distracted in mind! for this misfortune so unexpectedly to

befall me, that I neither know what to do with myself, or how to act!

My limbs are enfeebled through fear, my faculties bewildered with

apprehension; no counsel is able to find a place within my breast.

Alas! how to extricate myself from this perplexity I know not; so

strong a suspicion has taken possession of them about me; not without

some reason too: Sostrata believes that I have purchased this

Music-girl for {myself}: the old woman informed me of that. For by

accident, when she was sent for the midwife, I saw her, and at once

went up to her. “How is Pamphila?” I inquired; “is her delivery at

hand? Is it for that she is sending for the midwife?” “Away, away,

Æschinus,” cries she; “you have deceived us long enough; already have

your promises disappointed us sufficiently.” “Ha!” said I; “pray what

is the meaning of this?” “Farewell,” {she cries}; “keep to her who is

your choice.” I instantly guessed what it was they suspected, but

still I checked myself, that I might not be telling that gossip any

thing about my brother, whereby it might be divulged. Now what am I to

do? Shall I say she is for my brother, a thing that ought by no means

to be repeated any where? However, let that pass. It is possible it

might go no further. I am afraid they would not believe it, so many

probabilities concur {against it}: ’twas I myself carried her off;

’twas I, my own self, that paid the money {for her}; ’twas my own

house she was carried to. This I confess has been entirely my own

fault. Ought I not to have disclosed this affair, just as it happened,

to my father? I might have obtained his consent to marry her. I have

been too negligent hitherto; henceforth, then, arouse yourself,

Æschinus. This then is the first thing; to go to them and clear

myself. I’ll approach the door. (_Advances to the door of SOSTRATA’S

house._) Confusion! I always tremble most dreadfully when I go to

knock at that {door}. (_Knocking and calling to them within._) Ho

there, ho there! it is Æschinus; open the door immediately, some one.

(_The door opens._) Some person, I know not who, is coming out; I’ll

step aside here. (_He stands apart._)

SCENE VI.

_Enter MICIO from the house of SOSTRATA._

MIC. (_speaking at the door to SOSTRATA._) Do as I told {you},

Sostrata; I’ll go find Æschinus, that he may know how these matters

have been settled. (_Looking round._) But who was it knocking at the

door?

ÆSCH. (_apart._) Heavens, it is my father! --I am undone!

MIC. Æschinus!

ÆSCH. (_aside._) What can be his business here?

MIC. Was it you knocking at this door? (_Aside._) He is silent. Why

shouldn’t I rally him a little? It would be as well, as he was never

willing to trust me with this {secret}. (_To ÆSCHINUS._) Don’t you

answer me?

ÆSCH. (_confusedly._) It wasn’t I {knocked} at that {door}, that I

know of.

MIC. Just so; for I wondered what business you could have here.

(_Apart._) He blushes; all’s well.

ÆSCH. Pray tell me, father, what business have you there?

MIC. Why, none of my own; {but} a certain friend {of mine} just now

brought me hither from the Forum to give him some assistance.

ÆSCH. Why?

MIC. I’ll tell you. There are some women living here; in impoverished

circumstances, as I suppose you don’t know them; and, {in fact}, I’m

quite sure, for it is not long since they removed to this place.

ÆSCH. Well, what next?

MIC. There is a girl living with her mother.

ÆSCH. Go on.

MIC. This girl has lost her father; this friend of mine is her next of

kin; the law obliges him to marry her.[75]

ÆSCH. (_aside._) Undone!

MIC. What’s the matter?

ÆSCH. Nothing. Very well: proceed.

MIC. He has come to take her with him; for he lives at Miletus.

ÆSCH. What! To take the girl away with him?

MIC. Such is the fact.

ÆSCH. All the way to Miletus, pray?[76]

MIC. Yes.

ÆSCH. (_aside._) I’m overwhelmed with grief. (_To MICIO._) {But} what

of them? What do they say?

MIC. What do you suppose they should? Why, nothing at all. The mother

has trumped up a tale, that there is a child by some other man, I know

not who, and she does not state the name; {she says} that he was the

first, {and} that she ought not to be given to the other.

ÆSCH. Well now, does not this seem just to you after all?

MIC. No.

ÆSCH. Why not, pray? Is {the other} to be carrying her away from here?

MIC. Why should he not take her?

ÆSCH. You have acted harshly and unfeelingly, and even, if, father,

I may speak my sentiments more plainly, unhandsomely.

MIC. Why so?

ÆSCH. Do you ask me? Pray, what do you think must be the state of mind

of the man who was first connected with her, who, to his misfortune,

may perhaps still love her to distraction, when he sees her torn away

from before his face, {and} borne off from his sight {forever}? An

unworthy action, father!

MIC. On what grounds is it so? Who betrothed her?[77] Who gave her

away? When {and} to whom was she married? Who was the author of all

this? Why did he connect himself with a woman who belonged to another?

ÆSCH. Was it to be expected that a young woman of her age should sit

at home, waiting till a kinsman {of hers} should come from a distance?

This, my father, you ought to have represented, and have insisted on

it.

MIC. Ridiculous! Was I to have pleaded against him whom I was to

support? But what’s all this, Æschinus, to us? What have we to do with

them? Let us begone:---- What’s the matter? Why these tears?

ÆSCH. (_weeping._) Father, I beseech you, listen to me.

MIC. Æschinus, I have heard and know it all; for I love you, and

therefore every thing you do is the more a care to me.

ÆSCH. So do I wish you to find me deserving of your love, as long as

you live, my {dear} father, as I am sincerely sorry for the offense I

have committed, and am ashamed to see you.

MIC. Upon my word I believe it, for I know your ingenuous disposition:

but I am afraid that you are too inconsiderate. In what city, pray, do

you suppose you live? You have debauched a virgin, whom it was not

lawful for you to touch. In the first place then that was a great

offense; great, but still natural. Others, and even men of worth, have

frequently done the same. But after it happened, pray, did you show

any circumspection? Or did you use any foresight as to what was to be

done, {or} how it was to be done? If you were ashamed to tell me of

it, by what means was I to come to know it? While you were at a loss

upon these points, ten months have been lost. So far indeed as lay in

your power, you have periled both yourself {and} this poor {girl}, and

the child. What did you imagine-- that the Gods would set these

matters to rights for you while you were asleep, and that she would be

brought home to your chamber without any exertions of your own?

I would not have you to be equally negligent in other affairs. Be of

good heart, you shall have her for your wife.

ÆSCH. Hah!

MIC. Be of good heart, I tell you.

ÆSCH. Father, are you now jesting with me, pray?

MIC. I, {jesting} with you! For what reason?

ÆSCH. I don’t know; but so anxiously do I wish this to be true, that I

am the more afraid it may not be.

MIC. Go home, and pray to the Gods that you may have your wife; be

off.

ÆSCH. What! have my wife now?

MIC. Now.

ÆSCH. Now?

MIC. Now, as soon as possible.

ÆSCH. May all the Gods detest me, father, if I do not love you better

than even my very eyes!

MIC. What! {better} than her?

ÆSCH. Quite as well.

MIC. Very kind of you!

ÆSCH. Well, where is this Milesian?

MIC. Departed, vanished, gone on board ship; but why do you delay?

ÆSCH. Father, do you rather go and pray to the Gods; for I know, for

certain, that they will rather be propitious to you,[78] as being a

much better man than I {am}.

MIC. I’ll go in-doors, that what is requisite may be prepared. You do

as I said, if you are wise. (_Goes into his house._)

SCENE VII.

_ÆSCHINUS alone._

ÆSCH. What can be the meaning of this? Is this being a father, or this

being a son? If he had been a brother or {familiar} companion, how

could he have been more complaisant! Is he not worthy to be beloved?

Is he not to be imprinted in my very bosom? Well then, the more does

he impose an obligation on me by his kindness, to take due precaution

not inconsiderately to do any thing that he may not wish. But why do I

delay going in-doors this instant, that I may not myself delay my own

nuptials? (_Goes into the house of MICIO._)

SCENE VIII.

_Enter DEMEA._

I am quite tired with walking: May the great Jupiter confound you,

Syrus, together with your directions! I have crawled the whole city

over; to the gate, to the pond-- where not? There was no joiner’s shop

there; not a soul could say he had seen my brother; but now I’m

determined to sit and wait at his house till he returns.

SCENE IX.

_Enter MICIO from his house._

MIC. (_speaking to the people within._) I’ll go and tell them there’s

no delay on our part.

DEM. But see here’s the very man: O Micio, I have been seeking you

this long time.

MIC. Why, what’s the matter?

DEM. I’m bringing you some new and great enormities of that hopeful

youth.

MIC. Just look at that!

DEM. Fresh ones, of blackest dye.

MIC. There now-- at it again.

DEM. Ah, {Micio}! you little know what sort of person he is.

MIC. I do.

DEM. O simpleton! you are dreaming that I’m talking about the

Music-girl; this crime is against a virgin {and} a citizen.

MIC. I know it.

DEM. So then, you know it, and put up with it!

MIC. Why not put up with it?

DEM. Tell me, pray, don’t you exclaim about it? Don’t you go

distracted?

MIC. Not I: certainly I had rather[79]----

DEM. There has been a child born.

MIC. May the Gods be propitious {to it}.

DEM. The girl has no fortune.

MIC. {So} I have heard.

DEM. And he-- must he marry her without one?

MIC. Of course.

DEM. What is to be done then?

MIC. Why, what the case itself points out: the young woman must be

brought hither.

DEM. O Jupiter! must that be the way {then}?

MIC. What can I do else?

DEM. What can you do? If in reality this causes you no concern, to

pretend it were surely the duty of a man.

MIC. But I have already betrothed the young woman {to him}; the matter

is settled: the marriage takes place {to-day}. I have removed all

apprehensions. This is rather the duty of a man.

DEM. But does the affair please you, Micio?

MIC. If I were able to alter it, no; now, as I can not, I bear it with

patience. The life of man is just like playing with dice:[80] if that

which you most want to throw does not turn up, what turns up by chance

you must correct by art.

DEM. {O rare} corrector! of course it is by your art that twenty minæ

have been thrown away for a Music-girl; who, as soon as possible, must

be got rid of at any price; and if not for money, why then for

nothing.

MIC. Not at all, and indeed I have no wish to sell her.

DEM. What will you do with her then?

MIC. She shall be at my house.

DEM. For heaven’s sake, a courtesan and a matron in the same house!

MIC. Why not?

DEM. Do you imagine you are in your senses?

MIC. Really I do think {so}.

DEM. So may the Gods prosper me, I {now} see your folly; I believe you

are going to do so that you may have somebody to practice music with.

MIC. Why not?

DEM. And the new-made bride to be learning too?

MIC. Of course.

DEM. Having hold of the rope,[81] you will be dancing with them.

MIC. Like enough; and you too along with us, if there’s need.

DEM. Ah me! are you not ashamed of this?

MIC. Demea, do, for once, lay aside this anger of yours, and show

yourself as you ought at your son’s wedding, cheerful and

good-humored. I’ll just step over to them, {and} return immediately.

(_Goes into SOSTRATA’S house._)

SCENE X.

_DEMEA alone._

DEM. O Jupiter! here’s a life! here are manners! here’s madness!

A wife to be coming without a fortune! A music-wench in the house!

A house full of wastefulness! A young man ruined by extravagance! An

old man in his dotage! --Should Salvation herself[82] desire it, she

certainly could not save this family. (_Exit._

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

_Enter SYRUS, drunk, and DEMEA, on the opposite side of the stage._

SYR. Upon my faith, my dear little Syrus, you have taken delicate care

of yourself, and have done your duty[83] with exquisite taste; be off

with you. But since I’ve had my fill of every thing in-doors, I have

felt disposed to take a walk.

DEM. (_apart._) Just look at that-- there’s an instance of their

{good} training!

SYR. (_to himself._) But see, here comes our old man. (_Addressing

him._) What’s the matter? Why out of spirits?

DEM. Oh you rascal!

SYR. Hold now; are you spouting your sage maxims here?

DEM. If you were my {servant}----

SYR. Why, you would be a rich man, Demea, and improve your estate.

DEM. I would take care that you should be an example to all the rest.

SYR. For what reason? What have I done?

DEM. Do you ask me? in the midst of this confusion, and during the

greatest mischief, which is hardly yet set right, you have been

getting drunk, you villain, as though things had been going on well.

SYR. (_aside._) Really, I wish I hadn’t come out.

SCENE II.

_Enter DROMO in haste, from the house of MICIO._

DRO. Halloo, Syrus! Ctesipho desires you’ll come back.

SYR. Get you gone. (_Pushes him back into the house._)

DEM. What is it he says about Ctesipho?

SYR. Nothing.

DEM. How now, {you} hang-dog, is Ctesipho in the house?

SYR. He is not.

DEM. {Then} why does he mention him?

SYR. It’s another person; a little diminutive Parasite. Don’t you know

him?

DEM. I will know him before long. (_Going to the door._)

SYR. (_stopping him._) What are you about? Whither are you going?

DEM. (_struggling._) Let me alone.

SYR. (_holding him._) Don’t, I tell you.

DEM. Won’t you keep your hands off, whip-scoundrel? Or would you like

me to knock your brains out this instant? (_Rushes into the house._)

SYR. He’s gone! no very pleasant boon-companion, upon my faith,

particularly to Ctesipho. What am I to do now? Why, even get into some

corner till this tempest is lulled, and sleep off this drop of wine.

That’s my plan. (_Goes into the house, staggering._)

SCENE III.

_Enter MICIO, from the house of SOSTRATA._

MIC. (_to SOSTRATA, within._) Every thing’s ready with us, as I told

you, Sostrata, when you like. --Who, I wonder, is making my door fly

open with such fury?

_Enter DEMEA in haste, from the house of MICIO._

DEM. Alas! what shall I do? How behave? In what terms exclaim, or how

make my complaint? O heavens! O earth! O seas of Neptune!

MIC. (_apart._) Here’s for you! he has discovered all about the

affair; {and} of course is now raving about it; a quarrel is the

consequence; I must assist him,[84] {however}. DEM. See, here comes

the common corrupter of my children.

MIC. Pray moderate your passion, and recover yourself.

DEM. I have moderated it; I am myself; I forbear all reproaches; let

us come to the point: was this agreed upon between us,-- proposed by

yourself, in fact,-- that you were not to concern yourself about my

{son}, nor I about yours? Answer me.

MIC. It is the fact,-- I don’t deny it.

DEM. Why is he now carousing at your house? Why are you harboring my

son? Why do you purchase a mistress for him, Micio? Is it at all fair,

that I should have any less justice from you, than you from me? Since

I do not concern myself about your {son}, don’t you concern yourself

about mine.

MIC. You don’t reason fairly.

DEM. No?

MIC. For surely it is a maxim of old, that among themselves all things

are common to friends.

DEM. Smartly {said}; you’ve got that speech up for the occasion.

MIC. Listen to a few words, unless it is disagreeable, Demea. In the

first place, if the extravagance your sons are guilty of distresses

you, pray do reason with yourself. You formerly brought up the two

suitably to your circumstances, thinking that your own property would

have to suffice for them both; and, of course, you then thought that I

should marry. Adhere to that same old rule {of yours},-- save, scrape

together, {and} be thrifty {for them}; take care to leave them as much

as possible, and {take} that credit to yourself: my fortune, which has

come to them beyond their expectation, allow them to enjoy; of {your}

captial there will be no diminution; what comes from this quarter, set

it {all} down as so much gain. If you think proper impartially to

consider these matters in your mind, Demea, you will save me and

yourself, and them, {considerable} uneasiness.

DEM. I don’t speak about the expense; their morals--

MIC. Hold; I understand you; that point I was coming to.[85] There are

in men, Demea, many signs from which a conjecture is easily formed;

{so that} when two persons do the same thing, you may often say, this

one may be allowed to do it with impunity, the other may not; not that

the thing {itself} is different, but that he is who does it. I see

{signs} in them, so as to feel confident that they will turn out as we

wish. I see that they have good sense and understanding, that they

have modesty upon occasion, {and} are affectionate to each other; you

may infer that their bent and disposition is of a pliant nature; at

any time you like you may reclaim them. But still, you may be

apprehensive that they will be somewhat too apt to neglect their

interests. O my {dear} Demea, in all other things we grow wiser with

age; this sole vice does old age bring upon men: we are all more

solicitous about our own interests than we need be; and in this

respect age will make them sharp enough.

DEM. Only {take care}, Micio, that these fine reasonings of yours, and

this easy disposition of yours, do not ruin us {in the end}.

MIC. Say no more; there’s no danger of that. Now think no further of

these matters. Put yourself to-day into my hands; smooth your brow.

DEM. Why, as the occasion requires it, I must do so; but to-morrow {I

shall be off} with my son into the country at daybreak.

MIC. Aye, to-night, for my share; only keep yourself in good-humor for

the day.

DEM. I’ll carry off that Music-girl along with me as well.

MIC. You will gain your point; by that means you will keep your son

fast there; only take care to secure her.

DEM. I’ll see to that; and what with cooking and grinding, I’ll take

care she shall be well covered with ashes, smoke, and meal; besides

{all} this, at the very mid-day[86] I’ll set her gathering stubble;

I’ll make her as burned and as black as a coal.

MIC. You quite delight me; now you seem to me to be wise; and for my

part I would then compel my son to go to bed with her, even though he

should be unwilling.

DEM. Do you banter me? Happy man, to have such a temper! I feel--

MIC. Ah! at it again!

DEM. I’ll have done then at once.

MIC. Go in-doors then, and let’s devote this day to the object[87] to

which it belongs. (_Goes into the house._)

SCENE IV.

_DEMEA alone._

DEM. Never was there any person of ever such well-trained habits of

life, but that experience, age, {and} custom are always bringing {him}

something new, {or} suggesting something; so much so, that what you

believe you know you don’t know, and what you have fancied of first

importance to you, on making trial you reject; and this is my case at

present: for the rigid life I have hitherto led, my race nearly run,

I {now} renounce. Why so? --I have found, by experience, that there is

nothing better for a man than an easy temper and complacency. That

this is the truth, it is easy for any one to understand on comparing

me with my brother. He has always spent his life in ease {and} gayety;

mild, gentle, offensive to no one, having a smile for all, he has

lived for himself, {and} has spent his money for himself; all men

speak well of him, {all} love him. I, {again}, a rustic, a rigid,

cross, self-denying, morose and thrifty person, married a wife; what

misery I entailed in consequence! Sons were born-- a fresh care. And

just look, while I have been studying to do as much as possible for

them, I have worn out my life and years in saving; now, in the decline

of my days, the return I get from them for my pains {is} their

dislike. He, on the other hand, without any trouble on his part,

enjoys a father’s comforts; they love him; me they shun; him they

trust with all their secrets, are fond of him, are {always} with him.

I am forsaken; they wish him to live; but my death, forsooth, they are

longing for. Thus, after bringing them up with all possible pains, at

a trifling cost he has made them his own; thus I bear all the misery,

he enjoys the pleasure. Well, then, henceforward let us try, on the

other hand, whether I can’t speak kindly and act complaisantly, as he

challenges me to it: I also want myself to be loved and highly valued

by my friends. If that is to be effected by giving and indulging,

I will not be behind him. If our means fail, that least concerns me,

as I am the eldest.[88]

SCENE V.

_Enter SYRUS._

SYR. Hark you, Demea, your brother begs you will not go out of the

way.

DEM. Who {is it}? --O Syrus, my {friend},[89] save you! how are you?

How goes it {with you}?

SYR. Very well.

DEM. Very good. (_Aside._) I have now for the first time used these

three expressions contrary to my nature,-- “O Syrus, my {friend}, how

are you? --how goes it with you?” (_To SYRUS._) You show yourself far

from an unworthy servant, and I shall gladly do you a service.

SYR. I thank you.

DEM. Yes, Syrus, it is the truth; and you shall be convinced of it by

experience before long.

SCENE VI.

_Enter GETA, from the house of SOSTRATA._

GETA (_to SOSTRATA, within._) Mistress, I am going to see after them,

that they may send for the damsel as soon as possible; but see, here’s

Demea. (_Accosting him._) Save you!

DEM. O, what’s your name?

GETA. Geta.

DEM. Geta, I have this day come to the conclusion that you are a man

of very great worth, for I look upon him as an undoubtedly good

servant who has a care for his master; as I have found to be your

case, Geta; and for that reason, if any opportunity should offer,

I would gladly do you a service. (_Aside._) I am practicing the

affable, and it succeeds very well.

GETA. You are kind, sir, to think so.

DEM. (_aside._) Getting on by degrees-- I’ll first make the lower

classes my own.

SCENE VII.

_Enter ÆSCHINUS, from the house of MICIO._

ÆSCH. (_to himself._) They really are killing me while too intent on

performing the nuptials with all ceremony; the {whole} day is being

wasted in their preparations.

DEM. Æschinus! how goes it?

ÆSCH. Ha, my father! are you here?

DEM. Your father, indeed, both by affection and by nature; as I love

you more than my very eyes; but why don’t you send for your wife?

ÆSCH. {So} I wish {to do}; but I am waiting for the music-girl[90] and

people to sing the nuptial song.

DEM. Come now, are you willing to listen to an old fellow like me?

ÆSCH. What {is it}?

DEM. Let those things alone, the nuptial song, the crowds, the

torches,[91] {and} the music-girls, and order the stone wall in the

garden[92] here to be pulled down with all dispatch, {and} bring her

over that way; make but one house {of the two}; bring the mother and

all the domestics over to our house.

ÆSCH. With all my heart, kindest father.

DEM. (_aside._) Well done! now I am called “kind.” My brother’s house

will become a thoroughfare; he will be bringing home a multitude,

incurring expense in many ways: what matters it to me? I, as the kind

{Demea}, shall get into favor. Now then, bid that Babylonian[93] pay

down his twenty minæ. (_To SYRUS._) Syrus, do you delay to go and do

it?

SYR. What {am I to do}?

DEM. Pull down {the wall}: and you, {Geta}, go and bring them across.

GETA. May the Gods bless you, Demea, as I see you so sincere a

well-wisher to our family. (_GETA and SYRUS go into MICIO’S house._)

DEM. I think they deserve it. What say you, {Æschinus, as to this

plan}?

ÆSCH. I quite agree to it.

DEM. It is much more proper than that she, being sick {and} lying-in,

should be brought hither through the street.

ÆSCH. Why, my {dear} father, I never did see any thing better

contrived.

DEM. It’s my way; but see, here’s Micio coming out.

SCENE VIII.

_Enter MICIO, from his house._

MIC. (_speaking to GETA, within._) Does my brother order it? Where is

he? (_To DEMEA._) Is this your order, Demea?

DEM. Certainly, I do order it, and in this matter, and in every thing

else, {wish} especially to make this family one with ourselves, to

oblige, serve, {and} unite them.

ÆSCH. Father, pray let it be so.

MIC. I do not oppose it.

DEM. On the contrary, i’ faith, it is what we ought to do: in the

first place, she is the mother of his wife (_pointing to Æschinus_).

MIC. She is. What then?

DEM. An honest and respectable woman.

MIC. So they say.

DEM. Advanced in years.

MIC. I am aware of it.

DEM. Through her years, she is long past child-bearing; there is no

one to take care of her; she is a lone woman.

MIC. (_aside._) What can be his meaning?

DEM. It is right you should marry her; and that you, {Æschinus},

should use your endeavors to effect it.

MIC. I, marry her, indeed?

DEM. You.

MIC. I?

DEM. You, I say.

MIC. You are trifling!

DEM. {Æschinus}, if you are a man, he’ll do it.

ÆSCH. My {dear} father----

MIC. What, ass! do you attend to him?

DEM. ’Tis all in vain; it can not be otherwise.

MIC. You are mad!

ÆSCH. Do let me prevail on you, my father.

MIC. Are you out of your senses? Take yourself off.[94]

DEM. Come, do oblige your son.

MIC. Are you quite in your right mind? Am I, in my five-and-sixtieth

year, to be marrying at last? A decrepit old woman too? Do you advise

me {to do} this?

ÆSCH. Do; I have promised it.[95]

MIC. Promised, indeed; be generous at your own cost, young man.

DEM. Come, what if he should ask a still greater favor?

MIC. As if this was not the greatest!

DEM. Do comply.

ÆSCH. Don’t make any difficulty.

DEM. Do promise.

MIC. Will you not have done?

ÆSCH. Not until I have prevailed upon you.

MIC. Really, this is downright force.[96]

DEM. Act with heartiness, Micio.

MIC. Although this seems to me[97] to be wrong, foolish, absurd, and

repugnant to my mode of life, yet, if you so strongly wish it, be it

so.

ÆSCH. You act obligingly.

DEM. With reason I love you; but----

MIC. What?

DEM. I will tell you, when my wish has been complied with.

MIC. What now? What remains {to be done}?

DEM. Hegio here is their nearest relation; {he is} a connection of

ours {and} poor; we ought to do some good for him.

MIC. Do what?

DEM. There is a little farm here in the suburbs, which you let out;

let us give it him to live upon.

MIC. But is it a little one?

DEM. If it were a large one, {still} it ought to be done; he has been

as it were a father to her; he is a worthy man, {and} connected with

us; it would be properly bestowed. In fine, I now adopt that proverb

which you, Micio, a short time ago repeated with sense and wisdom-- it

is the common vice of all, in old age, to be too intent upon our own

interests. This stain we ought to avoid: it is a true maxim, and ought

to be observed in deed.

MIC. What am I to say to this? Well then, as he desires it (_pointing

to ÆSCHINUS_), it shall be given {him}.

ÆSCH. My father!

DEM. Now, Micio, you are {indeed} my brother, both in spirit and in

body.

MIC. I am glad of it.

DEM. (_aside._) I foil him at his own weapon.[98]

SCENE IX.

_Enter SYRUS, from the house._

SYR. It has been done as you ordered, Demea.

DEM. You are a worthy fellow. Upon my faith,-- in my opinion, at

least,-- I think Syrus ought at once to be made free.

MIC. He free! For what reason?

DEM. For many.

SYR. O my {dear} Demea! upon my word, you are a worthy man! I have

strictly taken care of both these {sons} of yours, from childhood;

I have taught, advised, {and} carefully instructed them in every thing

I could.

DEM. The thing is evident; and then besides {all} this, to cater {for

them}, secretly bring home a wench, prepare a morning

entertainment;[99] these are the accomplishments of no ordinary

person.

SYR. O, what a delightful man!

DEM. Last of all, he assisted to-day in purchasing this Music-wench--

he had the management of it; it is right he should be rewarded; other

servants will be encouraged {thereby}: besides, he (_pointing to

ÆSCHINUS_) desires it to be so.

MIC. (_to ÆSCHINUS._) Do you desire this to be done?

ÆSCH. I do wish it.

MIC. Why then, if you desire it, just come hither, Syrus, to me

(_performing the ceremony of manumission_); be a free man.[100]

SYR. You act generously; I return my thanks to you all;-- and to you,

Demea, in particular.

DEM. I congratulate you.

ÆSCH. And I.

SYR. I believe you. I wish that this joy were made complete-- that I

could see my wife, Phrygia,[101] free as well.

DEM. Really, a most excellent woman.

SYR. And the first to suckle your grandchild, his son, today

(_pointing to ÆSCHINUS_).

DEM. Why really, in seriousness, if she was the first to do so, there

is no doubt she ought to be made free.

MIC. {What}, for doing that?

DEM. For doing that; in fine, receive the amount from me[102] at which

she is valued.

SYR. May all the Gods always grant you, Demea, all you desire.

MIC. Syrus, you have thrived pretty well to-day.

DEM. If, in addition, Micio, you will do your duty, and lend him a

little ready money in hand for present use, he will soon repay you.

MIC. Less than this (_snapping his fingers_).

ÆSCH. He is a deserving fellow.

SYR. Upon my word, I will repay it; only lend it me.

ÆSCH. Do, father.

MIC. I’ll consider of it afterward.

DEM. He’ll do it, {Syrus}.

SYR. O most worthy man!

ÆSCH. O most kind-hearted father!

MIC. How is this? What has so suddenly changed your disposition,

{Demea}? What caprice {is this}? What means this sudden

liberality?[103]

DEM. I will tell you:-- That I may convince you of this, Micio, that

the fact that they consider you an easy and kind-hearted man, does not

proceed from your real life, nor, indeed, from {a regard for} virtue

and justice; but from your humoring, indulging, and pampering them.

Now therefore, Æschinus, if my mode of life has been displeasing to

you, because I do not quite humor you in every thing, just {or}

unjust, I have done: squander, buy, do what you please. But if you

would rather have one to reprove and correct those faults, the results

of which, by reason of your youth, you can not see, which you pursue

too ardently, {and} are thoughtless upon, and in due season to direct

you; behold me ready to do it for you.

ÆSCH. Father, we leave it to you; you best know what ought to be done.

But what is to be done about my brother?

DEM. I consent. Let him have {his mistress}:[104] with her let him

make an end {of his follies}.

MIC. That’s right. (_To the AUDIENCE._) Grant us your applause.

FOOTNOTES

[Footnote 1: From δημὸς, “the people.”]

[Footnote 2: From Μικιὼν, a Greek proper name.]

[Footnote 3: From ἡγεῖσθαι, “to lead,” or “take charge of.”]

[Footnote 4: From αισχὸς, “disgrace.”]

[Footnote 5: From κτησὶς, “a patrimony,” and φῶς, “light.”]

[Footnote 6: From σαννὸς, “foolish.”]

[Footnote 7: One of the nation of the Getæ.]

[Footnote 8: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]

[Footnote 9: From Syria, his native country.]

[Footnote 10: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

[Footnote 11: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]

[Footnote 12: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Heautontimorumenos.]

[Footnote 13: From κανθαρὸς [“a cup.”]

[Footnote 14: _Of Æmilius Paulus_)--This Play (from the Greek

Ἀδελφοὶ, “The Brothers”) was performed at the Funeral Games of

Lucius Æmilius Paulus, who was surnamed Macedonicus, from having

gained a victory over Perseus, King of Macedon. He was so poor at

the time of his decease, that they were obliged to sell his estate

in order to pay his widow her dower. The Q. Fabius Maximus and P.

Cornelius Africanus here mentioned were not, as some have thought,

the Curale Ædiles, but two sons of Æmilius Paulus, who had taken

the surnames of the families into which they had been adopted.]

[Footnote 15: _Sarranian flutes_)--The “Sarranian” or “Tyrian”

pipes, or flutes, are supposed to have been of a quick and

mirthful tone; Madame Dacier has consequently with much justice

suggested that the representation being on the occasion of a

funeral, the title has not come down to us in a complete form, and

that it was performed with the Lydian, or grave, solemn pipe,

alternately with the Tyrian. This opinion is also strengthened by

the fact that Donatus expressly says that it was performed to the

music of Lydian flutes.]

[Footnote 16: _Being Consuls_)--L. Anicius Gallus and M. Cornelius

Cethegus were Consuls in the year from the Building of the City

592, and B.C. 161.]

[Footnote 17: _Synapothnescontes_)--Ver. 6. Signifying “persons

dying together.” The “Commorientes” of Plautus is lost. It has

been doubted by some, despite these words of Terence, if Plautus

ever did write such a Play.]

[Footnote 18: _Of Diphilus_)--Ver. 6. Diphilus was a Greek Poet,

contemporary with Menander.]

[Footnote 19: _In war, in peace, in private business_)--Ver. 20.

According to Donatus, by the words “in bello,” Terence is supposed

to refer to his friend and patron Scipio; by “in otio,” to Furius

Publius; and in the words “in negotio” to Lælius, who was famed

for his wisdom.]

[Footnote 20: _The old men_)--Ver. 23. This is similar to the

words in the Prologue to the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 16: “But

expect nothing about the plot of this Play; the old men who will

come hither will disclose the matter to you.”]

[Footnote 21: _To fetch him_)--Ver. 24. “Advorsum ierant.” On the

duties of the “adversitores,” see the Notes to Bohn’s Translation

of Plautus.]

[Footnote 22: _Either have taken cold_)--Ver. 36. Westerhovius

observes that this passage seems to be taken from one in the Miles

Gloriosus of Plautus, l. 721, _et seq._: “Troth, if I had had

them, enough anxiety should I have had from my children; I should

have been everlastingly tormented in mind: but if perchance one

had had a fever, I think I should have died. Or if one in liquor

had tumbled any where from his horse, I should have been afraid

that he had broken his legs or neck on that occasion.” It may be

remarked that there is a great resemblance between the characters

of Micio here and Periplecomenus in the Miles Gloriosus.]

[Footnote 23: _To see you well_)--Ver. 81. Cooke remarks, that

though there are several fine passages in this speech, and good

observations on human life, yet it is too long a soliloquy.]

[Footnote 24: _I was looking for_)--Ver. 81. Donatus observes that

the Poet has in this place improved upon Menander, in representing

Demea as more ready to wrangle with his brother than to return his

compliments.]

[Footnote 25: _Such a son as Æschinus_)--Ver. 82. The passage

pretty clearly means by “ubi nobis Æschinus sit,” “when I’ve got

such a son as Æschinus.” Madame Dacier, however, would translate

it: “Ask me-- you, in whose house Æschinus is?” thus accusing him

of harboring Æschinus; a very forced construction, however.]

[Footnote 26: _Broken open a door_)--Ver. 88. The works of Ovid

and Plautus show that it was no uncommon thing for riotous young

men to break open doors; Ovid even suggests to the lover the

expediency of getting into the house through the windows.]

[Footnote 27: _Does he feast_)--Ver. 117. Colman has the following

observation here: “The mild character of Micio is contrasted by

Cicero to that of a furious, savage, severe father, as drawn by

the famous Comic Poet, Caecilius. Both writers are quoted in the

Oration for Caelias, in the composition of which it is plain that

the orator kept his eye pretty closely on our Poet. The passages

from Caecilius contain all that vehemence and severity, which, as

Horace tells us, was accounted the common character of the style

of that author.”]

[Footnote 28: _Smell of perfumes_)--Ver. 117. For an account of

the “unguenta,” or perfumes in use among the ancients, see the

Notes to Bohn’s translation of Plautus.]

[Footnote 29: _Will be shut out of doors_)--Ver. 119. No doubt by

his mistress when she has drained him of his money, and not by

Micio himself, as Colman says he was once led to imagine.]

[Footnote 30: _These things are_)--Ver. 141. Donatus observes

here, that Terence seems inclined to favor the part of mild

fathers. He represents Micio as appalled at his adopted son’s

irregularities, lest if he should appear wholly unmoved, he should

seem to be corrupting him, rather than to be treating him with

only a proper degree of indulgence.]

[Footnote 31: _Wished to take a wife_)--Ver. 151. Donatus remarks

here, that the art of Terence in preparing his incidents is

wonderful. He contrives that even ignorant persons shall open the

plot, as in the present instance, where we understand that

Aeschinus has mentioned to Micio his intention of taking a wife,

though he has not entered into particulars. This naturally leads

us to the ensuing parts of the Play, without forestalling any of

the circumstances.]

[Footnote 32: _I am a Procurer_)--Ver. 161. He says this aloud,

and with emphasis, relying upon the laws which were enacted at

Athens in favor of the “lenones,” whose occupation brought great

profits to the state, from their extensive trading in slaves. It

was forbidden to maltreat them, under pain of being disinherited.]

[Footnote 33: _I am a Procurer_)--Ver. 188. Westerhovius supposes

this part to be a translation from the works of Diphilus.]

[Footnote 34: _By action of freedom_)--Ver. 194. “Asserere

liberati causa,” was to assert the freedom of a person, with a

determination to maintain it at law. The “assertor” laid hands

upon the person, declaring that he or she was free; and till the

cause was tried, the person whose freedom was claimed, remained in

the hands of the “assertor.”]

[Footnote 35: _Till I return_)--Ver. 196. Colman has a curious

remark here: “I do not remember, in the whole circle of modern

comedy, a more natural picture of the elegant ease and

indifference of a fine gentleman, than that exhibited in this

Scene in the character of Æschinus.”]

[Footnote 36: _I have sold her_)--Ver. 204. He means, that if he

only names a price, Æschinus will suborn witnesses to say that he

has agreed to sell her, in which case Æschinus will carry her off

with impunity, and the laws will not allow him to recover her; as

it will then be an ordinary debt, and he will be put off with all

the common excuses used by debtors.]

[Footnote 37: _On more unequal terms_)--Ver. 212. “Certationem

comparatam.” This was a term taken from the combats of gladiators,

where it was usual to choose as combatants such as seemed most

nearly a match for each other.]

[Footnote 38: _If you had parted with ever so little_)--Ver. 217.

This passage is probably alluded to by Cicero, in his work, De

Officiis B. ii. c. 18: “For it is not only liberal sometimes to

give up a little of one’s rights, but it is also profitable.”]

[Footnote 39: _In the very joint_)--Ver. 229. “Ut in ipso articulo

oppressit.” Colman translates this, “Nick’d me to a hair.”]

[Footnote 40: _To take to Cyprus_)--Ver. 230. He alludes to a

famous slave-market held in the Isle of Cyprus, whither merchants

carried slaves for sale, after buying them up in all parts of

Greece.]

[Footnote 41: _Have you by this reckoned_)--Ver. 236. “Jamne

enumerasti id quod ad te rediturum putes?” Colman renders this,

“Well, have you calculated what’s your due?” referring to the

value of the Music-girl that has been taken away from him; and

thinks that the following conversation between Sannio and Syrus

supports that construction. Madame Dacier puts another sense on

the words, and understands them as alluding to Sannio’s

calculation of his expected profits at Cyprus.]

[Footnote 42: _Scrape together ten minæ_)--Ver. 242. Donatus

remarks, that Syrus knows very well that Æschinus is ready to pay

the whole, but offers Sannio half, that he may be glad to take the

bare principal, and think himself well off into the bargain.]

[Footnote 43: _He’s looking for me_)--Ver. 265. Donatus remarks

upon the readiness with which Sannio takes the appellation of

“sacrilegus,” as adapted to no other person than himself.]

[Footnote 44: _Flying the country_)--Ver. 275. Donatus tells us,

that in Menander the young man was on the point of killing

himself. Terence has here softened it into leaving the country.

Colman remarks: “We know that the circumstance of carrying off the

Music-girl was borrowed from Diphilus; yet it is plain from

Donatus that there was also an intrigue by Ctesipho in the Play of

Menander; which gives another proof of the manner in which Terence

used the Greek Comedies.”]

[Footnote 45: _He is in haste for Cyprus_)--Ver. 278. Donatus

remarks that this is a piece of malice on the part of Syrus, for

the purpose of teasing Sannio.]

[Footnote 46: _Order the couches_)--Ver. 285. Those used for the

purpose of reclining on at the entertainment.]

[Footnote 47: _Leave me alone_)--Ver. 321. Quoting from Madame

Dacier, Colman has this remark here: “Geta’s reply is founded on a

frolicsome but ill-natured custom which prevailed in Greece-- to

stop the slaves in the streets, and designedly keep them in chat,

so that they might be lashed when they came home for staying out

so long.”]

[Footnote 48: _On his father’s knees_)--Ver. 333. It was a

prevalent custom with the Greeks to place the newly-born child

upon the knee of its grandfather.]

[Footnote 49: _It shall be boned_)--Ver. 378. The operation of

boning conger-eels is often mentioned in Plautus, from whom we

learn that they were best when eaten in that state, and cold.]

[Footnote 50: _Serve somewhere or other as a soldier_)--Ver. 385.

See a similar passage in the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 722, whence

it appears that it was the practice for young men of ruined

fortunes to go and offer their services as mercenaries to some of

the neighboring potentates. Many of the ten thousand who fought

for the younger Cyrus at the battle of Cunaxa, and were led back

under the command of Xenophon, were, doubtless, of this class.]

[Footnote 51: _As though into a mirror_)--Ver. 428. He parodies

the words of Demea in l. 415, where he speaks of looking into the

lives of men as into a mirror.]

[Footnote 52: _Of our tribe_)--Ver. 439. Solon divided the

Athenians into ten tribes, which he named after ten of the ancient

heroes: Erectheis, Ægeis, Pandionis, Leontis, Acamantis, Œneis,

Cecrops, Hippothoontis, Æantis, and Antiochis. These tribes were

each divided into ten Demi.]

[Footnote 53: _Would take her home_)--Ver. 473. As his wife.]

[Footnote 54: _Is among us_)--Ver. 479. “In medio,” “is alive,” or

“in the midst of us.”]

[Footnote 55: _Take him, bind him_)--Ver. 482. In allusion to the

method of examining slaves, by binding and torturing them.]

[Footnote 56: _Juno Lucina_)--Ver. 487. So in the Andria, l. 473,

where Glycerium is overtaken with the pains of labor, she calls

upon Juno Lucina.]

[Footnote 57: _He was my kinsman_)--Ver. 494. In the Play of

Menander, Hegio was the brother of Sostrata.]

[Footnote 58: _Upon this matter I’ll follow_)--Ver. 500. “Is, quod

mihi de hae re dederat consilium, id sequar.” Coleman has the

following Note on this passage: “Madame Dacier rejects this line,

because it is also to be found in the Phormio. But it is no

uncommon thing with our author to use the same expression or verse

for different places, especially on familiar occasions. There is

no impropriety in it here, and the foregoing hemistich is rather

lame without it. The propriety of consulting Micio, or Demea’s

present ill-humor with him, are of no consequence. The old man is

surprised at Hegio’s story, does not know what to do or say, and

means to evade giving a positive answer, by saying that he would

consult his brother.”]

[Footnote 59: _Go back now_)--Ver. 506. “Redite.” Demea most

probably uses this word, because Hegio has come back to him to

repeat the last words for the sake of greater emphasis.]

[Footnote 60: _Be of good heart_)--Ver. 512. Colman has the

following Note here: “Donatus tells us, that in some old copies

this whole Scene was wanting. Guyetus therefore entirely rejects

it. I have not ventured to take that liberty; but must confess

that it appears to me, if not supposititious, at least cold and

superfluous, and the substance of it had better been supposed to

have passed between Hegio and Sostrata within.”]

[Footnote 61: _At this very moment_)--Ver. 519. It is very

doubtful whether the words “cum maxime” mean to signify exactly

“at this moment,” or are intended to signify the intensity with

which Demea is laboring.]

[Footnote 62: _Any thing still better than that_)--Ver. 522.

Lemaire suggests that by these words Syrus intends to imply that

he should not care if Demea were never to arise from his bed, but

were to die there. Ctesipho, only taking him heartily to second

his own wishes for the old man’s absence, answers affirmatively

“ita,” “by all means,” “exactly so.”]

[Footnote 63: _So much the worse_)--Ver. 529. Schmieder observes

that “tanto nequior” might have two meanings,-- “so much the worse

{for us},” or, as the spectators might understand it, “so much the

more worthless you.”]

[Footnote 64: _The wolf in the fable_)--Ver. 538. This was a

proverbial expression, tantamount to our saying, “Talk of the

devil, he’s sure to appear.” Servius, in his Commentary on the

Ninth Eclogue of Virgil, says that the saying arose from the

common belief that the person whom a wolf sets his eyes upon is

deprived of his voice, and thence came to be applied to a person

who, coming upon others in the act of talking about him,

necessarily put a stop to their conversation. Cooke says, in

reference to this passage, “This certainly alludes to a Fable of

Æsop’s, of the Wolf, the Fox, and the Ape: which is translated by

Phædrus, and is the tenth of his First Book.” It is much more

certain that Cooke is mistaken here, and that the fable of the

arbitration of the Ape between the Wolf and the Fox has nothing to

do with this passage. If it alludes to any fable (which from the

expression itself is not at all unlikely), it is more likely to be

that where the Nurse threatens that the wolf shall take the

naughty Child, on which he makes his appearance, but is

disappointed in his expectations, or else that of the Shepherd-boy

and the Wolf. See the Stichus of Plautus, l. 57, where the same

expression occurs.]

[Footnote 65: _Met a day-laborer_)--Ver. 542. Donatus remarks that

the Poet artfully contrives to detain Demea in town, his presence

being necessary in the latter part of the Play.]

[Footnote 66: _With her in some cupboard_)--Ver. 553. Donatus

observes that the young man was silly in this, for if discovered

to be there he would be sure to be caught. His object, however,

for going there would be that he might not be discovered.]

[Footnote 67: _Take me to be in my senses_)--Ver. 580. “Censen

hominem me esse?” literally, “Do you take me to be a human being?”

meaning, “Do you take me to be a person in my common senses?”]

[Footnote 68: _Street on the left hand_)--Ver. 583. Theobald, in

his edition of Shakspeare, observes that the direction given by

Lancelot in the Merchant of Venice seems to be copied from that

given here by Syrus: “Turn up on your right hand at the next

turning, but at the next turning of all on your left; marry, at

the very next turning of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the

Jew’s house.”]

[Footnote 69: _Come to the city gate_)--Ver. 584. From this we

discover that Demea is being sent to the very extremity of the

town, as Donatus informs us that ponds of water were always close

to the gates of towns, for the purpose of watering the beasts of

burden, and of having a supply at hand in case the enemy should

set fire to the city gates.]

[Footnote 70: _The open air_)--Ver. 586. Donatus remarks that it

was usual for the Greeks to sit and drink in the sun; and that

Syrus being suddenly asked this question shows his presence of

mind by giving this circumstantial answer, that he may the better

impose upon Demea. The couches used on such occasions may be

presumed to have required stout legs, and to be made of hard wood,

such as oak, to prevent them from splitting. Two instances of

couches being used for carousing in the open air will be found in

the last Scenes of the Asinaria and Stichus of Plautus.]

[Footnote 71: _You skeleton_)--Ver. 588. “Silicernium.” This was

said to be the name of a funeral entertainment or dish of meats

offered up to the “umbræ” or “manes,” in silence. The word is also

said to have been applied to an old man from his stooping

postures, “silices cernit,” “he looks at the stones.”]

[Footnote 72: _Head and ears in love_)--Ver. 590. “Totus,”

literally, “quite” or “altogether.”]

[Footnote 73: _Sipping my cups_)--Ver. 592. As to the “cyathi” and

cups of the ancients, see the last Scene of the Stichus of

Plautus, which is a perfect specimen of a carousal among the lower

classes in ancient times. See also the last Scene of the Asinaria.

The slaves generally appear to have taken part in the

entertainments with their young masters.]

[Footnote 74: _Are suspicious_)--Ver. 606. These lines are

supposed to be founded on some verses of Menander which are still

extant.]

[Footnote 75: _Obliges him to marry her_)--Ver. 655. It appears to

have been a law given by Solon to the Athenians that the next male

relative of suitable age should marry a female orphan himself, or

find her a suitable portion. Madame Dacier suggests that the

custom was derived from the Phœnicians, who had received it from

the Jews, and quotes the Book of Numbers, xxxvi. 8. This law forms

the basis of the plot of the Phormio.]

[Footnote 76: _To Miletus, pray?_)--Ver. 658. A colony of Athens,

on the coast of Asia Minor.]

[Footnote 77: _Who betrothed her?_)--Ver. 673. Donatus observes

that these questions, which enumerate all the proofs requisite for

a marriage, are an indirect and very delicate reproof of Æschinus

for the irregular and clandestine nature of his proceedings.]

[Footnote 78: _Propitious to you_)--Ver. 707. Donatus remarks that

there is great delicacy in this compliment of Æschinus to Micio,

which, though made in his presence, does not bear the semblance of

flattery. Madame Dacier thinks that Terence here alludes to a line

of Hesiod, which says that it is the duty of the aged to pray.

Colman suggests that the passage is borrowed from some lines of

Menander still in existence.]

[Footnote 79: _Certainly I had rather_)--Ver. 730. He pauses after

“quidem,” but he means to say that if he had his choice, he would

rather it had not been so.]

[Footnote 80: _Playing with dice_)--Ver. 742. The “tesseræ” of the

ancients were cubes, or what we call “dice;” while the “tali” were

in imitation of the knuckle-bones of animals, and were marked on

four sides only. For some account of the mode of playing with the

“tali,” see the last Scene of the Asinaria, and the Curculio of

Plautus, l. 257-9. Madame Dacier suggests that Menander may

possibly have borrowed this passage from the Republic of Plato,

B. X., where he says, “We should take counsel from accidents, and,

as in a game at dice, act according to what has fallen, in the

manner which reason tells us to be the best.”]

[Footnote 81: _Hold of the rope_)--Ver. 755. “Restim ductans

saltabis.” Donatus and Madame Dacier think that this is only a

figurative expression for a dance in which all joined hands;

according to some, however, a dance is alluded to where the person

who led off drew a rope or cord after him, which the rest of the

company took hold of as they danced; which was invented in

resemblance of the manner in which the wooden horse was dragged by

ropes into the city of Troy.]

[Footnote 82: _Salvation herself_)--Ver. 764. See an observation

relative to the translation of the word “Salus,” in the Notes to

Plautus, vol. i. pages 193, 450.]

[Footnote 83: _Have done your duty_)--Ver. 767. His duty of

providing the viands and drink for the entertainment. So Ergasilus

says in the Captivi of Plautus, l. 912, “Now I will go off to my

government (præfecturam), to give laws to the bacon.”]

[Footnote 84: _I must assist him_)--Ver. 795. Colman remarks on

this passage: “The character of Micio appears extremely amiable

through the first four Acts of this Comedy, and his behavior is in

many respects worthy of imitation; but his conduct in conniving at

the irregularities of Ctesipho, and even assisting him to support

them, is certainly reprehensible. Perhaps the Poet threw this

shade over his virtues on purpose to show that mildness and

good-humor might be carried to excess.”]

[Footnote 85: _That point I was coming to_)--Ver. 824. Colman

observes here: “Madame Dacier makes an observation on this speech,

something like that of Donatus on one of Micio’s above; and says

that Micio, being hard put to it by the real circumstances of the

case, thinks to confound Demea by a nonsensical gallimatia. I can

not be of the ingenious lady’s opinion on this matter, for I think

a more sensible speech could not be made, nor a better plea

offered in favor of the young men, than that of Micio in the

present instance.”]

[Footnote 86: _At the very mid-day_)--Ver. 851. Exposed to the

heat of a mid-day sun.]

[Footnote 87: _To the object_)--Ver. 857. The marriage and its

festivities.]

[Footnote 88: _Am the eldest_)--Ver. 884. And therefore likely to

be the first to die, and to avoid seeing such a time come.]

[Footnote 89: _O Syrus, my friend_)--Ver. 886. The emptiness of

his poor attempts to be familiar are very evident in this line.]

[Footnote 90: _The music-girl_)--Ver. 908. “Tibicinæ,” or

music-girls, attended at marriage ceremonials. See the Aulularia

of Plautus, where Megadorus hires the music-girls on his intended

marriage with the daughter of Euclio.]

[Footnote 91: _The crowds, the torches_)--Ver. 910. See the Casina

of Plautus, Act IV., Scenes 3 and 4, for some account of the

marriage ceremonial. The torches, music-girls, processions, and

hymeneal song, generally accompanied a wedding, but from the

present passage we may conclude that they were not considered

absolutely necessary.]

[Footnote 92: _Stone wall in the garden_)--Ver. 911. The

“maceria,” or garden-wall of loose stones, is also mentioned in

the Truculentus of Plautus, l. 301.]

[Footnote 93: _Bid that Babylonian_)--Ver. 918. This passage has

much puzzled the Commentators; but it seems most probable that it

is said aside, and that in consequence of his profuseness he calls

his brother a Babylonian, (just as we call a wealthy man a nabob,)

and says, “Well, let him, with all my heart, be paying twenty minæ

(between £70 and £80) for music-girl.”]

[Footnote 94: _Take yourself off_)--Ver. 940. Æschinus, probably,

in his earnestness, has seized hold of him with his hand, which

Micio now pushes away.]

[Footnote 95: _I have promised it_)--Ver. 943. This is not the

truth; the notion has only been started since he last saw them.]

[Footnote 96: _Really, this is downright force_)--Ver. 946. “Vis

est hæc quidem.” The same expression occurs in the Captivi of

Plautus, l. 755. The expression seemed to be a common one with the

Romans. According to Suetonius, Julius Cæsar used it when attacked

by his murderers in the senate-house. On Tullius Cimber seizing

hold of his garments, he exclaimed, “Ita quidem vis est!”-- “Why,

really, this is violence!”]

[Footnote 97: _This seems to me_)--Ver. 947. Donatus informs us

that in Menander’s Play, the old man did not make any resistance

whatever to the match thus patched up for him. Colman has the

following observation on this fact: “It is surprising that none of

the critics on this passage have taken notice of this observation

of Donatus, especially as our loss of Menander makes it rather

curious. It is plain that Terence in the plan of his last Act

followed Menander; but though he has adopted the absurdity of

marrying Micio to the old lady, yet we learn from Donatus that his

judgment rather revolted at this circumstance, and he improved on

his original by making Micio express a repugnance to such a match,

which it seems he did not in the Play of Menander.”]

[Footnote 98: _At his own weapon_)--Ver. 961. He probably means,

by aping the kind feeling which is a part of Micio’s character.]

[Footnote 99: _A morning entertainment_)--Ver. 969. A banquet in

the early part or middle of the day was considered by the Greeks a

debauch.]

[Footnote 100: _Be a free man_)--Ver. 974. He touches Syrus on the

ear, and makes him free. The same occurs in the Epidicus of

Plautus, Act V., Sc. 2, l. 65.]

[Footnote 101: _My wife, Phrygia_)--Ver. 977. The so-called

marriage, or rather cohabitation, of the Roman slaves will be

found treated upon in the Notes to Plautus. Syrus calls Phrygia

his wife on anticipation that she will become a free woman.]

[Footnote 102: _Receive the amount from me_)--Ver. 981. The only

sign of generosity he has yet shown.]

[Footnote 103: _This sudden liberality_)--Ver. 989. “Quid

prolubium? Quae istæc subita est largitas?” Madame Dacier tells us

that this passage was borrowed from Coecilius, the Comic Poet.]

[Footnote 104: _Let him have his mistress_)--Ver. 1001. It must be

remembered that he has the notions of a Greek parent, and sees no

such criminality in this sanction as a parent would be sensible of

at the present day.]

*       *       *       *       *

*       *       *

HECYRA; THE MOTHER-IN-LAW

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

LACHES,[1] an aged Athenian, father of Pamphilus.

PHIDIPPUS,[2] an aged Athenian, father of Philumena.

PAMPHILUS,[3] son of Laches.

SOSIA,[4] servant of Pamphilus.

PARMENO,[5] servant of Sostrata.

SOSTRATA,[6] wife of Laches.

MYRRHINA,[7] wife of Phidippus.

BACCRIS,[8] a Courtesan.

PHILOTIS,[9] a Courtesan.

SYRA,[10] a Procuress.

_Scene._--Athens; before the houses of LACHES, PHIDIPPUS, and BACCHIS.

THE SUBJECT.

Pamphilus, the son of Laches by his wife Sostrata, being at the time

enamored of Bacchis, a Courtesan, chances, one night, in a drunken

fit, to debauch Philumena, the daughter of Phidippus and Myrrhina. In

the struggle he takes a ring from her, which he gives to Bacchis. Some

time afterward, at his father’s express desire, he consents to marry.

By chance the young woman whom he has ravished is given to him as a

wife, to the great joy of her mother, who alone is aware of her

misfortune, and hopes that her disgrace may be thereby concealed. It,

however, happens otherwise; for Pamphilus, still retaining his passion

for Bacchis, refuses for some time to cohabit with her. Bacchis,

however, now rejects the advances of Pamphilus, who by degrees becomes

weaned from his affection for her, and grows attached to his wife,

whom he has hitherto disliked. Meantime, however, he is suddenly

called away from home. During his absence, Philumena, finding herself

pregnant in consequence of her misfortune before her marriage, fearing

detection, especially avoids the company of her mother-in-law. At

length she makes an excuse for returning to the home of her own

parents, where she remains. Sostrata thereupon sends for her, but is

answered that she is ill, on which she goes to see her, but is refused

admittance to the house. On hearing of this, Laches blames his wife as

being the cause of this estrangement. Pamphilus now returns, and it so

happens that, on the day of his arrival, Philumena is brought to bed

of a child. Impatient to see her, Pamphilus rushes into her room, and

to his great distress finds that this is the case. Myrrhina thereupon

entreats him to keep the matter secret, and begs him, if he refuses to

receive her daughter back again, at least not to ruin her reputation

by divulging it. As he now declines either to take back his wife or

give his reason for so doing, Laches suspects that he is still

enamored of Bacchis, and accordingly sends for her, and expostulates

with her. She, however, exonerates herself; on which the old man,

supposing that Philumena and her mother are equally ignorant with

himself as to his son’s motives, begs her to call on them and remove

their suspicions. While she is conversing with them, they recognize

the ring upon her finger which Pamphilus had formerly taken from

Philumena. By means of this it is discovered that Pamphilus himself is

the person who has ravished Philumena; on which, overjoyed, he

immediately takes home his wife and son.

THE TITLE OF THE PLAY.

Performed at the Megalensian Games; Sextus Julius Csesar and Cneius

Cornelius Dolabella being Curule Ædiles. The whole was not then acted.

Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius, composed the music to a pair of

flutes. It was composed wholly from the Greek of Menander.[11] It was

performed the first time without a Prologue. Represented a second

time; Cneius Octavius and T. Manlius being Consuls.[12] It was then

brought out in honor of L. Æmilius Paulus, at his Funeral Games, and

was not approved of. It was repeated a third time; Q. Fulvius and L.

Marcius being Curule Ædiles. L. Ambivius Turpio performed it. It was

then approved of.[13]

HECYRA; THE MOTHER-IN-LAW.

THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.

Pamphilus has married Philumena, to whom, when a virgin, he formerly,

not knowing who she was, offered violence; and whose ring which he

took off by force, he gave to his mistress, Bacchis, a Courtesan.

Afterward he sets out for Imbros, not having touched his bride. Having

become pregnant, her mother brings her over to her own house, as

though sick, that her mother-in-law may not know it. Pamphilus

returns; detects her being delivered; conceals it; but determines not

to take back his wife. His father imputes {this} to his passion for

Bacchis. While Bacchis is exculpating herself, Myrrhina, the mother of

the injured girl, by chance recognizes the ring. Pamphilus takes back

his wife, together with his son.

THE FIRST PROLOGUE.

Hecyra[14] is the name of this Play; when it was represented for the

first time, an unusual disaster and calamity[15] interrupted it, so

that it could not be witnessed {throughout} or estimated; so much had

the populace, carried away with admiration, devoted their attention to

some rope-dancing. It is now offered as though entirely a new Play;

and he who wrote it did not wish to bring it forward {then} a second

time, on purpose that he might be able again to sell it.[16] Other

{Plays} of his[17] you have seen represented; I beg you now to give

your attention to this.

THE SECOND PROLOGUE.[18]

I come to you as an envoy from the Poet, in the character of

prologue-speaker; allow me to be a successful pleader, that in my old

age I may enjoy the same privilege that I enjoyed when a, younger man,

when I caused new Plays, that had been {once} rejected, to come into

favor; so that his writings might not die with the Poet. Among them,

as to those of Cæcilius,[19] which I first studied when new; in some

of which I was rejected; in some I kept my ground with difficulty. As

I knew that the fortune of the stage was varying, where the hopes were

uncertain, I submitted to certain toil. Those I zealously attempted to

perform, that from the same {writer} I might learn new ones, {and} not

discourage him from his pursuits. I caused them to be represented.

When seen, they pleased. Thus did I restore the Poet to his place, who

was now almost weaned, through the malevolence of his adversaries,

from his pursuits and labors, and from the dramatic art. But if I had

at that period slighted the writer, and had wished to use my endeavors

in discouraging him, so that he might live a life of idleness rather

than of study, I might have easily discouraged him from writing

others. Now, for my sake, hear with unbiased minds what it is I ask.

I again bring before you the Hecyra, which I have never been allowed

to act {before you} in silence; such misfortunes have so overwhelmed

it. These misfortunes your intelligence will allay, if it is a

seconder of our exertions. The first time, when I began to act this

{Play}, the vauntings of boxers,[20] the expectation of a

rope-dancer,[21] added to which, the throng of followers, the noise,

the clamor of the women, caused me to retire from your presence before

the time. In this new Play, I attempted to follow the old custom {of

mine},[22] of making a fresh trial; I brought it on again. In the

first Act I pleased; when in the mean time a rumor spread that

gladiators were about to be exhibited; the populace flock together,

make a tumult, clamor aloud, {and} fight for their places:[23]

meantime, I was unable to maintain my place. Now there is no

confusion: there is attention and silence-- an opportunity of acting

{my Play} has been granted me; to yourselves is given the power of

gracing the scenic festival.[24] Do not permit, through your agency,

the dramatic art to sink into the hands of a few; let your authority

prove a seconder and assistant to my own. If I have never covetously

set a price upon my skill, and have come to this conclusion, that it

is the greatest gain in the highest possible degree to contribute to

your entertainment; allow me to obtain this of you, that him who has

intrusted his labors to my protection, and himself to your

integrity,-- that him, I {say}, the malicious may not maliciously

deride, beset {by them} on every side. For my sake, admit of this

plea, and attend in silence, that he may be encouraged to write other

{Plays}, and that it may be for my advantage to study new ones

hereafter, purchased at my own expense.[25]

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

_Enter PHILOTIS[26] and SYRA._

PHIL. I’faith, Syra, you can find but very few lovers who prove

constant to their mistresses. For instance, how often did this

Pamphilus swear to Bacchis-- how solemnly, so that any one might have

readily believed him-- that he never would take home a wife so long as

she lived. Well now, he is married.

SYR. Therefore, for that very reason, I earnestly both advise and

entreat you to take pity upon no one, but plunder, fleece, {and} rend

every man you lay hold of.

PHIL. What! Hold no one exempt?

SYR. No one; for not a single one of them, rest assured, comes to you

without making up his mind, by means of his flatteries, to gratify his

passion with you at the least possible expense. Will you not, pray,

plot against them in return?

PHIL. And yet, upon my faith, it is unfair to be the same to all.

SYR. What! unfair to take revenge on your enemies? or, for them to be

caught in the very way they try to catch you? Alas! wretched me! why

do not your age and beauty belong to me, or else these sentiments {of

mine} to you?

SCENE II.

_Enter PARMENO from the house of LACHES._

PAR. (_at the door, speaking to SCIRTUS within._) If the old man

should be asking for me, do you say that I have just gone to the

harbor to inquire about the arrival of Pamphilus. Do you hear what I

say, Scirtus? If he asks for me, then you are to say {so}; if he does

not, {why}, say nothing at all; so that at another time I may be able

to employ that excuse as a new one. (_Comes forward, and looking

around._)--But is it my dear Philotis that I see? How has she come

{here}? (_Accosting her._) Philotis heartily good-morrow.

PHIL. O, good-morrow, Parmeno.

SYR. By my troth, good-morrow, Parmeno.

PAR. I’faith, Syra, the same to you. Philotis, tell me, where have you

been enjoying yourself so long?

PHIL. For my part, indeed, I have been far from enjoying myself, in

leaving this place for Corinth with a most brutal captain; for two

whole years, there, had I to put up with him to my sorrow.

PAR. I’troth, I fancy that regret for Athens full oft possessed you,

and that you thought but poorly of your foresight.

PHIL. It can not be expressed how impatient I was to return hither,

get rid of the captain, and see yourselves here, that after our old

fashion I might at my ease enjoy the merry-makings among you; for

there it was not allowed {me} to speak, except at {the moment}

prescribed, {and} on such subjects as he chose.

PAR. (_sarcastically._) I don’t think it was gallant in the captain to

place a restraint on your tongue.

PHIL. But what is this piece of business that Bacchis has just now

been telling me in-doors here? (_pointing to her house._) {A thing} I

never supposed would come to pass, that he, in her lifetime, could

possibly prevail upon his feelings to take a wife.

PAR. To take, indeed!

PHIL. Why, look you, has he not taken one?

PAR. He has; but I doubt whether this match will be lasting.

PHIL. May the Gods and Goddesses grant it so, if it is for the

advantage of Bacchis. But why am I to believe it is so? Tell me,

Parmeno.

PAR. There is no need for its being spread abroad; ask me no more

about it.

PHIL. For fear, I suppose, it may be made public. So may the Gods

prosper me, I do not ask you in order that I may spread it abroad, but

that, in silence, I may rejoice within myself.

PAR. You’ll never speak me so fairly, that I shall trust my back to

your discretion.

PHIL. Oh, don’t {say so}, Parmeno;[27] as though you were not much

more impatient to tell me this, than I to learn what I’m inquiring

about.

PAR. (_to himself._) She tells the truth there; and that is my

greatest failing. (_To PHILOTIS._) If you give me your word that

you’ll keep it a secret, I’ll tell you.

PHIL. You are {now} returning to your {natural} disposition. I give

you my word; say on.

PAR. Listen.

PHIL. I’m all attention.

PAR. Pamphilus was in the height of his passion for Bacchis here, when

his father began to importune him to take a wife, and to urge those

points which are usual with all fathers, that he {himself} was {now}

in years, and that he was his only son, that he wished for a support

for his declining years. He refused at first. But on his father

pressing more urgently, he caused him to become wavering in his mind,

whether to yield rather to duty or to love. By hammering on and

teazing him, at last the old man gained his point; and betrothed him

to the daughter of our next-door neighbor here (_pointing to the house

of PHIDIPPUS_). This did not seem so very disagreeable to Pamphilus,

until on the very point of marriage, when he saw that all was ready,

and that no respite was granted, but marry he must; then, at last, he

took it so much to heart, that I do believe if Bacchis had been

present, {even} she would have pitied him. Whenever opportunity was

afforded for us being alone, so that he could converse with me, {he

used to say}: “Parmeno, I am ruined! What have I done! Into what

misery have I plunged myself! Parmeno, I shall never be able to endure

this. To my misery, I am undone!”

PHIL. (_vehemently exclaiming._) May the Gods and Goddesses confound

you, Laches, for vexing him so!

PAR. To cut the matter short, he took home his wife. On the first

night, he did not touch the girl; the night that followed that, not a

bit the more.

PHIL. What is it you tell me? A young man go to bed with a virgin,

intoxicated to boot, {and} able to restrain himself from touching her!

You do not say what’s likely; nor do I believe it to be the truth.

PAR. I suppose it does seem so to you, for no one comes to you unless

he is eager for you; {but} he had married her against his will.

PHIL. After this, what followed?

PAR. In a very few days after, Pamphilus took me aside, away from the

house, and told me how that the young woman was still untouched by

him; and {how} that before he had taken her home as his wife, he had

hoped to be able to endure this marriage: “But, Parmeno, as I can not

resolve to live with her any longer, it is neither honorable in me,

nor of advantage to the young woman herself, for her to be turned to

ridicule, but rather I ought to return her to her relations just as I

received her.”

PHIL. You tell me of a conscientious and virtuous disposition in

Pamphilus.

PAR. “For me to declare this, I consider to be inconvenient to me, but

for her to be sent back to her father without mentioning any blame,

would be insolent; but I am in hopes that she, when she is sensible

that she can not live with me, will go at last {of her own accord}.”

PHIL. What {did he do} in the mean while? Used he to visit Bacchis?

PAR. Every day. But as {usually} is the case, after she saw that he

belonged to another, she immediately became more ill-natured and more

peevish.

PHIL. I’faith, that’s not to be wondered at.

PAR. And this circumstance in especial contributed to estrange him

from her; after he had fairly examined himself, and her, and the one

that was at home, he formed a judgment, by comparison, upon the

principles of them both. She, just as might be expected from a person

of respectable and free birth, chaste {and} virtuous, patient under

the slights and all the insults of her husband, and concealing his

affronts. Upon this, his mind, partly overcome by compassion for his

wife, partly constrained by the insolence of the other, was gradually

estranged from Bacchis, and transferred its affections to the other,

after having found a congenial disposition. In the mean time, there

dies at Imbros[28] an old man, a relative of theirs. His property

there devolved on them by law. Thither his father drove the love-sick

Pamphilus, much against his will. He left his wife here with his

mother, for the old man has retired into the country; he seldom comes

into the city.

PHIL. What is there yet in this marriage to prevent its being lasting?

PAR. You shall hear just now. At first, for several days, there really

was a good understanding between them. In the mean time, however, in a

strange way, she began to take a dislike to Sostrata; nor yet was

there ever any quarrel or words between them.

PHIL. What then?

PAR. If at any time she came to converse with her, she would instantly

withdraw from her presence,[29] and refuse to see her; in fine, when

she could no longer endure her, she pretended that she was sent for by

her mother to assist at a sacrifice. When she had been there a few

days, {Sostrata} ordered her to be fetched. She made some, I know not

what, excuse. Again she gave similar orders; no one sent back {any

excuse}. After she had sent for her repeatedly, they pretended that

the damsel was sick. My {mistress} immediately went to see her; no one

admitted her. On the old man coming to know of this, he yesterday came

up from the country on purpose, {and} waited immediately upon the

father of Philumena. What passed between them, I do not know as yet;

but really I do feel some anxiety in what way this is to end. You

{now} have the whole matter; {and} I shall proceed whither I was on my

way.

PHIL. And I too, for I made an appointment with a certain stranger[30]

to meet him.

PAR. May the Gods prosper what you undertake!

PHIL. Farewell!

PAR. And a kind farewell to you, my dear Philotis. (_Exeunt

severally._

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.[31]

_Enter LACHES and SOSTRATA, from the house of the former._

LACH. O faith of Gods and men! what a race is this! what a conspiracy

this! that all women should desire and reject every individual thing

alike! And not a single one can you find to swerve in any respect from

the disposition of the rest. For instance, quite as though with one

accord, do all mothers-in-law hate their daughters-in-law. Just in the

same way is it their system to oppose their husbands; their obstinacy

{here} is the same. In the very same school they all seem to me to

have been trained up to perverseness. Of that school, if there is any

mistress, I am very sure that she (_pointing at SOSTRATA_) it is.

SOS. Wretched me! when now I don’t so much as know why I am accused!

LACH. Eh! you don’t know?

SOS. So may the Gods kindly prosper me, Laches, and so may it be

allowed us to pass our lives together in unity!

LACH. (_aside._) May the Gods avert {such} a misfortune!

SOS. I’m sure that before long you will be sensible that I have been

accused by you undeservedly.

LACH. You, undeservedly? Can any thing possibly be said that you

deserve in return for this conduct of yours? You, who are disgracing

both me and yourself and the family, {and} are laying up sorrow for

your son. Then besides, you are making our connections become, from

friends, enemies to us, who have thought him deserving for them to

intrust their children[32] to him. You alone have put yourself

forward, by your folly, to be causing this disturbance.

SOS. What, I?

LACH. You, woman, I say, who take me to be a stone, not a man. Do you

think because it’s my habit to be so much in the country, that I don’t

know in what way each person is passing his life here? I know much

better what is going on here than there, where I am daily; for this

reason, because, just as you act at home, I am spoken of abroad. Some

time since, indeed, I heard that Philumena had taken a dislike to you;

nor did I the least wonder at it; indeed, if she hadn’t done so, it

would have been more surprising. But I did not suppose that she would

have gone so far as to hate even the whole of the family; if I had

known {that}, she should have remained here in preference, {and} you

should have gone away. But consider how undeservedly these vexations

arise on your account, Sostrata; I went to live in the country, in

compliance with your request, and to look after my affairs, in order

that my circumstances might be able to support your lavishness and

comforts, not sparing my own exertions, beyond what’s reasonable and

my time of life allows. That you should take no care, in return for

all this, that there should be nothing to vex me!

SOS. Upon my word, through no means or fault of mine has this taken

place.

LACH. Nay, {through you} in especial; you were the only person here;

on you alone, Sostrata, falls all the blame. You ought to have taken

care of matters here, as I had released you from other anxieties. Is

it not a disgrace for an old woman to pick a quarrel with a girl? You

will say it was her fault.

SOS. Indeed I do not say so, my {dear} Laches.

LACH. I am glad of that, so may the Gods prosper me, for my son’s

sake. I am quite sure {of this}, that no fault of yours can possibly

put you in a worse light.

SOS. How do you know, my husband, whether she may not have pretended

to dislike me, on purpose that she might be more with her mother?

LACH. What say you {to this}? Is it not proof sufficient, when

yesterday no one was willing to admit you into the house, when you

went to see her?

SOS. Why, they told me that she was very ill just then; for that

reason I was not admitted to her.

LACH. I fancy that your humors are more her malady than any thing

else; and with good reason in fact, for there is not one of you but

wants her son to take a wife; and the match which has taken your fancy

must be the one; when, at your solicitation, they have married,

{then}, at your solicitation, they are to put them away again.

SCENE II.

_Enter PHIDIPPUS from his house._

PHID. (_speaking to PHILUMENA within._) Although I am aware,

Philumena, that I have the right to compel you to do what I order,

still, being swayed by the feelings of a father, I will prevail {upon

myself} to yield to you, and not oppose your inclination.

LACH. And look, most opportunely I see Phidippus; I’ll presently know

from him how it is. (_Accosting him._) Phidippus, although I am aware

that I am particularly indulgent to all my family, still it is not to

that degree to let my good nature corrupt their minds. And if you

would do the same, it would be more for your own interest and ours. At

present I see that you are under the control of those {women}.

PHID. Just look at that, now!

LACH. I waited on you yesterday about your daughter; you sent me away

just as wise as I came. It does not become you, if you wish this

alliance to continue, to conceal your resentment. If there is any

fault on our side, disclose it; either by clearing ourselves, or

excusing it, we shall remedy these matters for you, yourself the

judge. But if this is the cause of detaining her at your house,

because she is ill, {then} I think that you do me an injustice,

Phidippus, if you are afraid lest she should {not} be attended with

sufficient care at my house. But, so may the Gods prosper me, I do not

yield in this to you, although you are her father, that you can wish

her well more than {I do}, and that on my son’s account, who I know

values her not less than his own self. Nor, in fact, is it unknown to

you, how much, {as} I believe, it will vex him, if he comes to

know[33] of this; for this reason, I wish to have her home before he

returns.

PHID. Laches, I am sensible of both your carefulness and your

good-will, and I am persuaded that all you say is just as you say: and

I would have you believe me in this; I am anxious for her to return to

you, if I possibly can by any means effect it.

LACH. What is it prevents you from effecting it? Come, now, does she

make any complaint against her husband?

PHID. By no means; for when I urged it still more strongly, and

attempted to constrain her by force to return, she solemnly protested

that she couldn’t possibly remain with you, while Pamphilus was

absent. Probably each has his own failing; I am naturally of an

indulgent disposition; I can not thwart my own family.

LACH. (_turning to his wife, who stands apart._) Ha! Sostrata![34]

SOS. (_sighing deeply._) Alas! wretched me!

LACH. (_to PHIDIPPUS._) Is this your final determination?

PHID. For the present, at least, as it seems; but have you any thing

else to say? for I have some business that obliges me to go at once to

the Forum.

LACH. I’ll go with you. (_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_SOSTRATA alone._

SOS. Upon my faith, we assuredly are all of us hated by our husbands

with equal injustice, on account of a few, who cause us all to appear

deserving of harsh treatment. For, so may the Gods prosper me, as to

what my husband accuses me of, I am quite guiltless. But it is not so

easy to clear myself, so strongly have people come to the conclusion

that all step-mothers are harsh: i’faith, not I, indeed, for I never

regarded her otherwise than if she had been my own daughter; nor can I

conceive how this has befallen me. But really, for many reasons,

I long for my son’s return home with impatience. (_Goes into her

house._)

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

_Enter PAMPHILUS and PARMENO._

PAM. No individual, I do believe, ever met with more crosses in love

than I. Alas! unhappy me! that I have {thus} been sparing of life! Was

it for this I was so very impatient to return home? O, how much more

preferable had it been for me to pass my life any where in the world

than to return here and be sensible that I am thus wretched! For all

of us know who have met with trouble from any cause, that all the time

that passes before we come to the knowledge of it, is so much gain.

PAR. Still, as it is, you’ll the sooner know how to extricate yourself

from these misfortunes. If you had not returned, this breach might

have become much wider; but now, Pamphilus, I am sure that both will

be awed by your presence. You will learn the facts, remove their

enmity, restore them to good feeling once again. {These} are but

trifles which you have persuaded yourself are {so} grievous.

PAM. Why comfort me? Is there a person in all the world so wretched as

{I}? Before I took her to wife, I had my heart engaged by other

affections. Now, though on this subject I should be silent, it is easy

for any one to know how much I have suffered; yet I never dared refuse

her whom my father forced upon me. With difficulty did I withdraw

myself from another, and disengage my affections so firmly rooted

there! and hardly had I fixed them in another quarter, when, lo! a new

misfortune has arisen, which may tear me from her too. Then besides,

I suppose that in this matter I shall find either my mother or my wife

in fault; and when I find such to be the fact, what remains but to

become still more wretched? For duty, Parmeno, bids me bear with the

feelings of a mother; then, to my wife I am bound by obligations; with

so much temper did she formerly bear my usage, and on no occasion

disclose the many wrongs {inflicted on her} by me. But, Parmeno,

something of consequence, I know not what it is, must have happened

for {this} misunderstanding to have arisen between them, that has

lasted so long.

PAR. Or else something frivolous, i’faith, if you would only give

words their proper value; those which are sometimes the greatest

enmities, do not argue the greatest injuries; for it often happens

that in certain circumstances, in which another would not even be out

of temper, for the very same reason a passionate man becomes your

greatest enemy. What enmities do children entertain among themselves

for trifling injuries! For what reason? Why, because they have a weak

understanding to direct them. Just so are these women, almost like

children with their fickle feelings; perhaps a single word has

occasioned this enmity between them, master.

PAM. Go, Parmeno, into the house, and carry word[35] that I have

arrived.

(_A noise is heard in the house of PHIDIPPUS._)

PAR. (_starting._) Ha! What means this?

PAM. Be silent. I perceive a bustling about, and a running to and fro.

PAR. (_going to the door._) Come then, I’ll approach nearer to the

door. (_He listens._) Ha! did you hear?

PAM. Don’t be prating. (_He listens._) O Jupiter, I heard a shriek!

PAR. You yourself are talking, while you forbid me.

MYR. (_within the house._) Prithee, my child, do be silent.

PAM. {That} seems to be the voice of Philumena’s mother. I’m undone!

PAR. Why so?

PAM. Utterly ruined!

PAR. For what reason?

PAM. Parmeno, you are concealing from me some great misfortune to me

unknown.

PAR. They said that your wife, Philumena, was in alarm about[36]

something, I know not what; whether that may be it, perchance, I don’t

know.

PAM. I am undone! Why didn’t you tell me of this?

PAR. Because I couldn’t {tell} every thing at once.

PAM. What is the malady?

PAR. I don’t know.

PAM. What! has no one brought a physician {to see her}?

PAR. I don’t know.

PAM. Why delay going in-doors, that I may know as soon as possible for

certain what it is? In what condition, Philumena, am I now to find

you? But if you are in any peril, beyond a doubt I will perish with

you. (_Goes into the house of PHIDIPPUS._)

SCENE II.

_PARMENO alone._

PAR. (_to himself._) There is no need for me to follow him into the

house at present, for I see that we are all disagreeable to them.

Yesterday, no one would give Sostrata admittance. If, perchance, the

malady should become worse, which really I could far from wish, for my

master’s sake especially, they would at once say that Sostrata’s

servant had been in there; they would invent a story that I had

brought some mischief against their lives and persons, in consequence

of which the malady had been increased. My mistress would be blamed,

and I should incur heavy punishment.[37]

SCENE III.

_Enter SOSTRATA._

SOS. (_to herself._) In dreadful alarm, I have for some time heard,

I know not what confusion going on here; I’m sadly afraid Philumena’s

illness is getting worse. Æsculapius, I do entreat thee, and thee,

Health,[38] that it may not be so. Now I’ll go visit her. (_Approaches

the door._)

PAR. (_coming forward._) Hark you, Sostrata.

SOS. (_turning round._) Well.

PAR. You will again be shut out there.

SOS. What, Parmeno, is it you? I’m undone! wretch that I am, what

shall I do? Am I not to go see the wife of Pamphilus, when she is ill

here next door?

PAR. Not go see her! Don’t even send any person for the purpose of

seeing {her}; for I’m of opinion that he who loves a person to whom he

is an object of dislike, commits a double mistake: he himself takes a

useless trouble, and causes annoyance to the other. Besides, your son

went in to see how she is, as soon as he arrived.

SOS. What is it you say? Has Pamphilus arrived?

PAR. He has.

SOS. I give thanks unto the Gods! Well, through that news my spirits

are revived, and anxiety has departed from my heart.

PAR. For this reason, then, I am especially unwilling you should go in

there; for if Philumena’s malady at all abates, she will, I am sure,

when they are by themselves, at once tell him all the circumstances;

both what misunderstandings have arisen between you, {and} how the

difference first began. But see, he’s coming out-- how sad {he looks}!

SCENE IV.

_Re-enter PAMPHILUS, from the house of PHIDIPPUS._

SOS. (_running up to him._) O my son! (_Embraces him._)

PAM. My mother, blessings on you.

SOS. I rejoice that you are returned safe. Is Philumena in a fair way?

PAM. She is a little better. (_Weeping._)

SOS. Would that the Gods may grant it so! Why, then, do you weep, or

why so dejected?

PAM. All’s well, mother.

SOS. What meant that confusion? Tell me; was she suddenly taken ill?

PAM. Such was the fact.

SOS. What is her malady?

PAM. A fever.

SOS. An intermitting one?[39]

PAM. So they say. Go in the house, please, mother; I’ll follow you

immediately.

SOS. Very well. (_Goes into her house._)

PAM. Do you run and meet the servants, Parmeno, and help them with the

baggage.

PAR. Why, don’t they know the way themselves to come to our house?

PAM. (_stamping._) Do you loiter? (_Exit PARMENO._

SCENE V.

_PAMPHILUS, alone._

PAM. I can not discover any fitting commencement of my troubles, at

which to begin to narrate the things that have so unexpectedly

befallen me, some of which with these eyes I have beheld; some I have

heard with my ears; {and} on account of which I so hastily betook

myself, in extreme agitation, out of doors. For just now, when, full

of alarm, I rushed into the house, expecting to find my wife afflicted

with some other malady than what I have found it to be;-- ah me!

immediately the servant-maids beheld that I had arrived, they all at

the same moment joyfully exclaimed, “He is come,” from having so

suddenly caught sight of me. But I soon perceived the countenances of

all of them change,[40] because at so unseasonable a juncture chance

had brought me there. One of them in the mean time hastily ran before

me to give notice that I had come. Impatient to see my wife,

I followed close. When I entered the room, that instant, to my sorrow,

I found out her malady; for neither did the time afford any interval

to enable her to conceal it, nor could she complain in any other

accents than {those which} the case itself prompted. When I perceived

{this}: “O disgraceful conduct!” I exclaimed, and instantly hurried

away from the spot in tears, overwhelmed by such an incredible and

shocking circumstance. Her mother followed me; just as I got to the

threshold, she threw herself on her knees: I felt compassion for her.

Assuredly it is the fact, in my opinion, just as matters befall us

all, so are we elated or depressed. At once she began to address me in

these words: “O my {dear} Pamphilus, you see the reason why she left

your house; for violence was offered to her when formerly a maid, by

some villain to us unknown. Now, she took refuge here then, that from

you and others she might conceal her labor.” But when I call to mind

her entreaties, I can not, wretched as I am, refrain from tears.

“Whatever chance or fortune it is,” said she, “which has brought you

here to-day, by it we do both conjure you, if with equity and justice

we may, that her misfortune may be concealed by you, and kept a secret

from all. If ever you were sensible, my {dear} Pamphilus, that she was

tenderly disposed toward you, she now asks you to grant her this favor

in return, without making any difficulty of it. But as to taking her

back, act quite according to your own convenience. You alone are aware

of her lying-in, and that the child is none of yours. For it is said

that it was two months after the marriage before she had commerce with

you. And then, this is but the seventh month since she came to

you.[41] That you are sensible of this, the circumstances themselves

prove. Now, if it is possible, Pamphilus, I especially wish, and will

use my endeavors, that her labor may remain unknown to her father, and

to all, in fact. But if that can not be managed, and they do find it

out, I will say that she miscarried; I am sure no one will suspect

otherwise than, what is so likely, the child was by you. It shall be

instantly exposed; in that case there is no inconvenience whatever to

yourself, and you will be concealing an outrage so undeservingly

committed upon her,[42] poor thing!” I promised {this}, and I am

resolved to keep faith in what I said. But as to taking her back,

really I do not think that would be at all creditable, nor will I do

so, although love for her, and habit, have a strong influence upon me.

I weep when it occurs to my mind, what must be her life, and {how

great} her loneliness in future. O Fortune, thou hast never been found

constant! But by this time {my} former passion has taught me

experience in the present case. The means by which I got rid of that,

I must employ on the present occasion. Parmeno is coming with the

servants; it is far from convenient that he should be here under

present circumstances, for he was the only person to whom I trusted

the secret that I kept aloof from her when I first married her. I am

afraid lest, if he should frequently hear her cries, he might find out

that she is in labor. He must be dispatched by me somewhere till

Philumena is delivered.

SCENE VI.

_Enter at a distance PARMENO and SOSIA, with people carrying

baggage._

PAR. (_to SOSIA._) Do you say that this voyage was disagreeable to

you?

SOSIA. Upon my faith, Parmeno, it can not be so much as expressed in

words, how disagreeable it is to go on a voyage.

PAR. Do you say so?

SOSIA. O lucky man! You don’t know what evils you have escaped, by

never having been at sea. For to say nothing of other hardships, mark

this one only; thirty days or more[43] was I on board that ship, and

every moment, to my horror, was in continual expectation of death:

such unfavorable weather did we always meet with.

PAR. How annoying!

SOSIA. That’s not unknown to me: in fine, upon my faith, I would

rather run away than go back, if I knew that I should have to go back

there.

PAR. Why really, but slight causes formerly made you, Sosia, do what

now you are threatening to do. But I see Pamphilus himself standing

before the door. (_To the Attendants, who go into the house of

LACHES._) Go in-doors; I’ll accost him, {to see} if he wants any thing

with me. (_Accosts PAMPHILUS._) What, still standing here, master?

PAM. Yes, and waiting for you.

PAR. What’s the matter?

PAM. You must run across to the citadel.[44]

PAR. Who must?

PAM. You.

PAR. To the citadel? Why thither?

PAM. To meet Callidemides, my entertainer at Myconos, who came over in

the same ship with me.

PAR. (_aside._) Confusion! I should say he has made a vow that if ever

he should return home safe, he would rupture me[45] with walking.

PAM. Why are you lingering?

PAR. What do you wish me to say? Or am I to meet him only?

PAM. No; say that I can not meet him to-day, as I appointed, so that

he may not wait for me to no purpose. Fly!

PAR. But I don’t know the man’s appearance.

PAM. Then I’ll tell you how to know it; a huge {fellow}, ruddy, with

curly hair, fat, with gray eyes {and} freckled countenance.

PAR. May the Gods confound him! What if he shouldn’t come? Am I to

wait {there}, even till the evening?

PAM. Yes, wait {there}. Run!

PAR. I can’t; I am so tired. (_Exit slowly._

SCENE VII.

_PAMPHILUS, alone._

PAM. He’s off. What shall I do in this distressed situation? Really,

I don’t know in what way I’m to conceal this, as Myrrhina entreated

me, her daughter’s lying-in; but I do pity the woman. What I can, I’ll

do; {only} so long, however, as I observe my duty; for it is proper

that I should be regardful of a parent,[46] rather than of my passion.

But look-- I see Phidippus and my father. They are coming this way;

what to say to them, I’m at a loss. (_Stands apart._)

SCENE VIII.

_Enter, at a distance, LACHES and PHIDIPPUS._

LACH. Did you not say, just now, that she was waiting for my son’s

return?

PHID. Just so.

LACH. They say that he has arrived; let her return.

PAM. (_apart to himself, aloud._) What excuse to make to my father for

not taking her back, I don’t know!

LACH. (_turning round._) Who was it I heard speaking here?

PAM. (_apart._) I am resolved to persevere in the course I determined

to pursue.

LACH. ’Tis the very person about whom I was talking to you.

PAM. Health to you, my father.

LACH. Health to you, my son.

PHID. I am glad that you have returned, Pamphilus, and the more

especially so, as you are safe and well.

PAM. I believe you.

LACH. Have you but just arrived?

PAM. Only just now.

LACH. Tell me, what has our cousin Phania left us?

PAM. Why really, i’faith, he was a man very much devoted to pleasure

while he lived; and those who are so, don’t much benefit their heirs,

but for themselves leave this commendation: While he lived, he lived

well.[47]

LACH. So then, you have brought home nothing more[48] than a single

sentiment?

PAM. Whatever he has left, we are the gainers by it.

LACH. Why no, it has proved a loss; for I could have wished him alive

and well.

PHID. You may wish that with impunity; he’ll never come to life again;

and after all I know which of the two you would prefer.

LACH. Yesterday, he (_pointing to PHIDIPPUS_) desired Philumena to be

fetched to his house. (_Whispers to PHIDIPPUS, nudging him with his

elbow._) Say that you desired it.

PHID. (_aside to LACHES._) Don’t punch me so. (_To PAMPHILUS._)

I desired it.

LACH. But he’ll now send her home again.

PHID. Of course.

PAM. I know the whole affair, and how it happened; I heard it just

now, on my arrival.

LACH. Then may the Gods confound those spiteful people who told this

news with such readiness!

PAM. (_to PHIDIPPUS._) I am sure that it has been my study, that with

reason no slight might possibly be committed by your family; and if I

were now truthful to mention of how faithful, loving, and tender a

disposition I have proved toward her, I could {do so} truly, did I not

rather wish that you should learn it of herself; for by that method

you will be the more ready to place confidence in my disposition when

she, who is now acting unjustly toward me, speaks favorably of me. And

that through no fault of mine this separation has taken place, I call

the Gods to witness. But since she considers that it is not befitting

her to give way to my mother, and with readiness to conform to her

temper, and as on no other terms it is possible for good feeling to

exist between them, either my mother must be separated, Phidippus,

from me, or else Philumena. Now affection urges me rather to consult

my mother’s pleasure.

LACH. Pamphilus, your words have reached my ears not otherwise than to

my satisfaction, since I find that you postpone all considerations for

your parent. But take care, Pamphilus, lest impelled by resentment,

you carry matters too far.

PAM. How, impelled by resentment, could I now be biased against her

who never has been guilty of any thing toward me, father, that I could

not wish, and who has often deserved as well as I could desire? I both

love and praise and exceedingly regret her, for I have found by

experience that she was of a wondrously engaging disposition with

regard to myself; and I sincerely wish that she may spend the

remainder of her life with a husband who may prove more fortunate than

me, since necessity {thus} tears her from me.

PHID. ’Tis in your own power to prevent that.

LACH. If you are in your senses, order her to come back.

PAM. It is not my intention, father; I shall study my mother’s

interests. (_Going away._)

LACH. Whither are you going? Stay, stay, I tell you; whither are you

going? (_Exit PAMPHILUS._

SCENE IX.

_LACHES and PHIDIPPUS._

PHID. What obstinacy is this?

LACH. Did I not tell you, Phidippus, that he would take this matter

amiss? It was for that reason I entreated you to send your daughter

back.

PHID. Upon my faith, I did not believe he would be so brutish; does he

now fancy that I shall come begging to him? If {so} it is that he

chooses to take back his wife, why, let him; if he is of another mind,

let him pay back her portion,[49] {and} take himself off.

LACH. Just look at that, now; you too are getting obstinate and

huffish.

PHID. (_speaking with anger._) You have returned to us in a very

ungovernable mood, Pamphilus.

LACH. This anger will depart; although he has some reason for being

vexed.

PHID. Because you have had a windfall, a little money, your minds are

elevated.

LACH. Are you going to fall out with me, too?

PHID. Let him consider, and bring me word to-day, whether he will or

will not, that she may belong to another if she does not to him.

(_Goes hastily into his own house._)

LACH. Phidippus, stay; listen to a few words--

SCENE X.

_LACHES, alone._

LACH. He’s off; what matters it to me? In fine, let them manage it

between themselves, just as they please; since neither my son nor he

pay any regard to me; they care but little for what I say. I’ll carry

the quarrel to my wife, by whose planning all these things have been

brought about, and against her I will vent all the vexation that I

feel.

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

_Enter MYRRHINA, from her house._

MYR. I am undone! What am I to do? which way turn myself? In my

wretchedness, what answer am I to give to my husband? For he seems to

have heard the voice of the child when crying, so suddenly did he rush

in to my daughter without saying a word. What if he comes to know that

she has been delivered? for what reason I am to say I kept it

concealed, upon my faith I do not know. But there’s a noise at the

door; I believe it is himself coming out to me: I’m utterly undone!

SCENE II.

_Enter PHIDIPPUS, from the house._

PHID. (_to himself._) My wife, when she saw me going to my daughter,

betook herself out of the house: and look, there she is. (_Addressing

her._) What have you to say, Myrrhina? Hark you! to you I speak.

MYR. What, to me, my husband?

PHID. Am I your husband? Do you consider me a husband, or a man, in

fact? For, woman, if I had ever appeared to you to be either of these,

I should not in this way have been held in derision by your doings.

MYR. By what {doings}?

PHID. Do you ask the question? Is not your daughter brought to bed?

Eh, are you silent? By whom?

MYR. Is it proper for a father to be asking such a question? Oh,

shocking! By whom do you think, pray, except by him to whom she was

given in marriage?

PHID. I believe it; nor indeed is it for a father to think otherwise.

But I wonder much what the reason can be for which you so very much

wish all of us to be in ignorance of the truth, especially when she

has been delivered properly, and at the right time.[50] That you

should be of a mind so perverse as to prefer that the child should

perish, through which you might be sure that hereafter there would be

a friendship more lasting between us, rather than that, at the expense

of your feelings, his wife should continue with him! I supposed this

to be their fault, while {in reality} it lies with you.

MYR. I am an unhappy creature!

PHID. I wish I were sure that so it was; but now it recurs to my mind

what you once said about this matter, when we accepted him as {our}

son-in-law. For you declared that you could not endure your daughter

to be married to a person who was attached to a courtesan, {and} who

spent his nights away from home.

MYR. (_aside._) Any cause whatever I had rather he should suspect than

the right one.

PHID. I knew much sooner than you did, Myrrhina, that he kept a

mistress; but this I never considered a crime in young men; for it is

natural to them all. For, i’ faith, the time will soon come when even

he will be disgusted with himself {for doing so}. But just as you

formerly showed yourself, you have never ceased to be the same up to

the present time; in order that you might withdraw your daughter from

him, and that what I did might not hold good, one thing itself now

plainly proves how far you wished it carried out.

MYR. Do you suppose that I am so willful that I could have entertained

such feelings toward one whose mother I am, if this match had been to

our advantage?

PHID. Can you possibly foresee or judge what is to our advantage? You

have heard it of some one, perhaps, who has told you that he has seen

him coming from or going to his mistress. What then? If he has done so

with discretion, and but occasionally, is it not more kind in us to

conceal our knowledge of it, than to do our best to be aware of it, in

consequence of which he will detest us? For if he could all at once

have withdrawn himself from her with whom he had been intimate for so

many years, I should not have deemed him a man, or likely to prove a

constant husband for our daughter.

MYR. Do have done about the young man, I pray; and what you say I’ve

been guilty of. Go away, meet him by yourself; ask him whether he

wishes to have her as a wife or not; if so it is that he should say he

does wish it, {why}, send her {back}; but if on the other hand he does

not wish it, I have taken the best course for my {child}.

PHID. And suppose he does not wish it, and you, Myrrhina, knew him to

be in fault; {still} I was at hand, by whose advice it was proper for

these matters to be settled; therefore I am greatly offended that you

have presumed to act thus without my leave. I forbid you to attempt to

carry the child any where out of this house. But I am very foolish to

be expecting her to obey my orders. I’ll go in-doors, and charge the

servants to allow it to be carried out nowhere. (_Goes into the

house._)

SCENE III.

_MYRRHINA, alone._

MYR. Upon my faith, I do believe that there is no woman living more

wretched than I; for how he would take it, if he came to know the real

state of the case, i’ faith, is not unknown to me, when he bears this,

which is of less consequence, with such angry feelings; and I know not

in what way his sentiments can possibly be changed. Out of very many

misfortunes, this one evil alone had been wanting to me, for him to

compel me to rear a child of whom we know not who is the father; for

when my daughter was ravished, it was so dark that his person could

not be distinguished, nor was any thing taken from him on the occasion

by which it could be afterward discovered who he was. He, on leaving

her, took away from the girl, by force, a ring which[51] she had upon

her finger. I am afraid, too, of Pamphilus, that he may be unable any

longer to conceal what I have requested, when he learns that the child

of another is being brought up as his. (_Goes into the house._)

SCENE IV.

_Enter SOSTRATA and PAMPHILUS._

SOS. It is not unknown to me, my son, that I am suspected by you as

the cause of your wife having left our house in consequence of my

conduct; although you carefully conceal your knowledge of it. But so

may the Gods prosper me, and so may you answer all my hopes, I have

never knowingly deserved that hatred of me should with reason possess

her; and while I thought before that you loved me, on that point you

have confirmed my belief: for in-doors your father has just now

related to me in what way you have preferred me to your passion. Now

it is my determination to return you the favor, that you may

understand that with me lies the reward of your affection. My

Pamphilus, I think that this is expedient both for yourselves and my

own reputation. I have finally resolved to retire hence into the

country with your father, that my presence may not be an obstacle,

and that no pretense may remain why your Philumena should not return

to you.

PAM. Pray, what sort of resolution is this? Driven away by her folly,

would you be removing from the city to live in the country? You shall

not do {so}; and I will not permit, mother, any one who may wish to

censure us, to say that this has been done through my perverseness,

{and} not your inclination. Besides, I do not wish you, for my sake,

to forego your friends and relations, and festive days.[52]

SOS. Upon my word, these things afford me no pleasure now. While my

time of life permitted it, I enjoyed them enough; satiety of that mode

of life has now taken possession of me: this is at present my chief

concern, that the length of my life may prove an annoyance to no one,

or that he may look forward with impatience to my death.[53] Here I

see that, without deserving it, I am disliked; it is time for {me} to

retire. Thus, in the best way, I imagine, I shall cut short all

grounds {of discontent} with all; I shall both free myself from

suspicion, and shall be pleasing them. Pray, let me avoid this

reproach, which so generally attaches on women to their disadvantage.

PAM. (_aside._) How happy am I in other respects, were it not for this

one thing alone, in having such a {good} mother, and her for my wife!

SOS. Pray, my Pamphilus, can you not, seeing how each woman is,

prevail upon yourself to put up with one matter of inconvenience? If

every thing else is according to your wish, and such as I take it to

be-- my son, do grant me this indulgence, {and} take her back.

PAM. Alas! wretched me!

SOS. And me as well; for this affair does not cause me less sorrow

than you, my son.

SCENE V.

_Enter LACHES._

LACH. While standing just by here, I have heard, wife, the

conversation you have been holding with him. It is true wisdom to be

enabled to govern the feelings whenever there is necessity; to do at

the present moment what may perhaps, in the end, be necessary to be

done.

SOS. Good luck to it, i’troth.

LACH. Retire then into the country; there I will bear with you, and

you with me.

SOS. I hope so, i’faith.

LACH. Go in-doors then, and get together the things that are to be

taken with you. I have {now} said it.

SOS. I’ll do as you desire. (_Goes into the house._)

PAM. Father!

LACH. What do you want, Pamphilus?

PAM. My mother go away? By no means.

LACH. Why would you have it so?

PAM. Because I am as yet undetermined what I shall do about my wife.

LACH. How is that? What should you intend to do but bring her home?

PAM. For my part, I could like, and can hardly forbear it; but I shall

not alter my design; that which is most advantageous I shall pursue;

I suppose (_ironically_) that they will be better reconciled, in

consequence, if I shall take her back.

LACH. You can not tell. But it matters nothing to you which they do

when she has gone away. {Persons of} this age are disliked by young

people; it is right {for us} to withdraw from the world; in fine, we

are now a {nice} by-word. We are, Pamphilus, “the old man and the old

woman.”[54] But I see Phidippus coming out just at the time; let’s

accost him.

SCENE VI.

_Enter PHIDIPPUS, from his house._

PHID. (_speaking at the door to PHILUMENA, within._) Upon my faith,

I am angry with you too, Philumena, extremely so, for, on my word, you

have acted badly; still there is an excuse for you in this matter;

your mother forced you to it; but for her there is none.

LACH. (_accosting him._) Phidippus, you meet me at a lucky moment,

just at the very time.

PHID. What’s the matter?

PAM. (_aside._) What answer shall I make them, or in what manner keep

this secret?

LACH. (_to PHIDIPPUS._) Tell your daughter that Sostrata is going into

the country, that she may not now be afraid of returning home.

PHID. Alas! your wife has been guilty of no fault in this affair; all

this {mischief} has originated in my wife Myrrhina.

PAM. (_aside._) They are changing sides.

PHID. ’Tis she that causes our disturbances, Laches.

PAM. (_aside._) So long as I don’t take her back, let her cause as

much disturbance as she pleases.

PHID. I, Pamphilus, could really wish, if it were possible, this

alliance between us to be lasting; but if you are otherwise inclined,

{still} take the child.[55]

PAM. (_aside._) He has discovered that she has been brought to bed.

I’m undone!

LACH. The child! What child?

PHID. We have had a grandson born to us; for my daughter was removed

from you in a state of pregnancy, and yet never before this day did I

know that she was pregnant.

LACH. So may the Gods prosper me, you bring good tidings, and I am

glad a child has been born, and that she is safe: but what {kind of}

woman have you for a wife, or of what sort of a temper, that we should

have been kept in ignorance of this so long? I can not sufficiently

express how disgraceful this conduct appears to me.

PHID. This conduct does not vex me less than yourself, Laches.

PAM. (_aside._) Even if it had just now been a matter of doubt to me,

it is so no longer, since the child of another man is to accompany

her.

LACH. Pamphilus, there is no room now for deliberation for you in this

matter.

PAM. (_aside._) I’m undone!

LACH. (_to PAMPHILUS._) We were often longing to see the day on which

there should be one to call you father; it has come to pass. I return

thanks to the Gods.

PAM. (_aside._) I am ruined!

LACH. Take home your wife, and don’t oppose my will.

PAM. Father, if she had wished to have children by me, or to continue

to be my wife, I am quite certain she would not have concealed from me

what I find she has concealed. Now, as I find that her mind is

estranged from me, and think that there would be no agreement between

us in future, why should I take her back?

LACH. The young woman has done what her mother persuaded her. Is that

to be wondered at? Do you suppose you can find any woman who is free

from fault? Or is it that men have no failings?

PHID. Do you yourselves now consider, Laches, and you, Pamphilus,

whether it is most advisable for you to leave her or take her back.

What your wife may do, is not in my control. Under neither

circumstance will you meet with any difficulty from me. But what are

we to do with the child?

LACH. You do ask an absurd question; whatever happens, send him back

his {child} of course, that we may bring it up as ours.

PAM. (_in a low voice._) A child which the father has abandoned, am I

to rear?

LACH. What was it you said? How-- not rear it, Pamphilus? Prithee, are

we to expose it, in preference? What madness is this? Really, I can

not now be silent any longer. For you force me to say in his presence

(_pointing to PHIDIPPUS_) what I would rather not. Do you suppose I am

in ignorance {of the cause} of your tears, or what it is on account of

which you are perplexed to this degree? In the first place, when you

alleged as a reason, that, on account of your mother, you could not

have your wife at home, she promised that she would leave the house.

Now, since you see this pretext as well taken away from you, because a

child has been born without your knowledge, you have got another. You

are mistaken if you suppose that I am ignorant of your feelings. That

at last you might prevail upon your feelings to take this step, how

long a period for loving a mistress did I allow you! With what

patience did I bear the expense you were at in keeping her!

I remonstrated with you and entreated you to take a wife. I said that

it was time: by my persuasion you married. What you then did in

obedience to me, you did as became you. Now again you have set your

fancy upon a mistress, and, to gratify her, you do an injury to the

other as well. For I see plainly that you have once more relapsed into

the same course of life.

PAM. What, I?

LACH. Your own self, and you act unjustly therein. You feign false

grounds for discord, that you may live with her when you have got rid

of this witness {of your actions}; your wife has perceived it too; for

what other reason had she for leaving you?

PHID. (_to himself._) It’s clear he guesses right; for that must be

it.

PAM. I will give you my oath that none of these is the reason.

LACH. Oh take home your wife, or tell me why you should not.

PAM. It is not the time at present.

LACH. Take the child, for surely that is not in fault; I will consider

about the mother afterward.

PAM. (_apart._) In every way I am wretched, and what to do I know not;

with so many troubles is my father now besetting wretched me on every

side. I’ll go away from here, since I avail but little by my presence.

For without my consent, I do not believe that they will bring up the

child, especially as on that point my mother-in-law will second me.

(_Exit speedily._

SCENE VII.

_LACHES and PHIDIPPUS._

LACH. (_to PAMPHILUS._) Do you run away? What, and give me no distinct

answer? (_To PHIDIPPUS._) Does he seem to you to be in his senses? Let

him alone. Phidippus, give me the child; I’ll bring it up.

PHID. By all means. No wonder if my wife has taken this amiss: women

are resentful; they do not easily put up with such things. Hence that

anger of hers, for she herself told me of it; I would not mention this

to you in his presence, and at first I did not believe her; but now it

is true beyond a doubt; for I see that his feelings are altogether

averse to marriage.

LACH. What am I to do, then, Phidippus? What advice do you give?

PHID. What are you to do? I am of opinion that first we ought to go to

this mistress of {his}. Let us use entreaties with her; {then} let us

rebuke her; and at last, let us very seriously threaten her, if she

gives him any encouragement in future.

LACH. I will do as you advise. (_Turning to an ATTENDANT._) Ho, there,

boy! run to the house of Bacchis here, our neighbor; desire her, in my

name, to come hither. (_Exit ATTENDANT._) And you, I further entreat,

to give me your assistance in this affair.

PHID. Well, I have already said, and I now say again to the same

effect, Laches, I wish this alliance between us to continue, if by any

means it possibly may, which I trust will be the case. But should you

like[56] me to be with you while you meet her?

LACH. Why yes; but first go and get some one as a nurse for the child.

(_Exit PHIDIPPUS._

SCENE VIII.

_Enter BACCHIS, attended by her WOMEN._

BACCH. (_to her WOMEN._) It is not for nothing that Laches now desires

to speak with me; and, i’ faith, I am not very far from mistaken in

making a guess what it is he wants me for.

LACH. (_to himself._) I must take care that I don’t, through anger,

miss gaining in this quarter what I {otherwise} might, and that I

don’t do any thing which hereafter it would have been better I had not

done. I’ll accost her. (_Accosts her._) Bacchis, good-morrow to you!

BACCH. Good-morrow to you, Laches!

LACH. Troth, now, Bacchis, I suppose you somewhat wonder what can be

my reason for sending the lad to fetch you out of doors.

BACCH. Upon my faith, I am even in some anxiety as well, when I

reflect what I am, lest the name of my calling should be to my

prejudice; for my behavior I can easily defend.

LACH. If you speak the truth, you will be in no danger, woman, from

me, for I am now of that age that it is not meet for me to receive

forgiveness for a fault; for that reason do I the more carefully

attend to every particular, that I may not act with rashness; for if

you now do, or intend to do, that which is proper for deserving

{women} to do, it would be unjust for me, in my ignorance, to offer an

injury to you, when undeserving of it.

BACCH. On my word, great is the gratitude that I ought to feel toward

you for such conduct; for he who, after committing an injury, would

excuse himself, would profit me but little. But what is the matter?

LACH. You admit my son, Pamphilus, to your house.

BACCH. Ah!

LACH. Just let me {speak}: before he was married to this woman,

I tolerated your amour. Stay! I have not yet said to you what I

intended. He has now got a wife: look out for another person more to

be depended on, while you have time to deliberate; for neither will he

be of this mind all his life, nor, i’ faith, will you be {always} of

your present age.

BACCH. Who is it says this?

LACH. His mother-in-law.

BACCH. What! that I--

LACH. That you {do}: and she has taken away her daughter; and for that

reason, has wished secretly to destroy the child that has been born.

BACCH. Did I know any other means whereby I might be enabled to

establish my credit with you, more solemn than an oath, I would,

Laches, assure you of this, that I have kept Pamphilus at a

distance[57] from me ever since he took a wife.

LACH. You are very good. But, pray, do you know what I would prefer

that you should do?

BACCH. What? Tell me.

LACH. Go in-doors there (_pointing to the house of PHIDIPPUS_) to the

women, and make the same promise, on oath, to them; satisfy their

minds, and clear yourself from this charge.

BACCH. I will do {so}; although, i’faith, if it had been any other

woman of this calling, she would not have done so, I am quite sure;

present herself before a married woman for such a purpose! But I do

not wish your son to be suspected on an unfounded report, nor appear

inconstant, undeservedly, to you, to whom he by no means ought; for he

has deserved of me, that, so far as I am able, I should do him a

service.

LACH. Your language has rendered me quite friendly and well disposed

toward you; but not only did they think {so}-- I too believed it. Now

that I have found you quite different from what I had expected, take

care that you still continue the same-- make use of my friendship as

you please; if otherwise----; but I will forbear, that you may not

hear any thing unkind from me. But this one thing I recommend you--

make trial what sort of a friend I am, or what I can effect {as such},

rather than {what as} an enemy.

SCENE IX.

_Enter PHIDIPPUS and a NURSE._

PHID. (_to the NURSE._) Nothing at my house will I suffer you to be in

want of; but whatever is requisite shall be supplied {you} in

abundance. Still, when you are well fed and well drenched, do take

care that the child has enough. (_The NURSE goes into his house._)

LACH. (_to BACCHIS._) My son’s father-in-law, I see, is coming; he is

bringing a nurse for the child. (_Accosting him._) Phidippus, Bacchis

swears most solemnly.

PHID. Is this she?

LACH. It is.

PHID. Upon my faith, those women don’t fear the Gods; and I don’t

think that the Gods care about them.

BACCH. (_pointing to her ATTENDANTS._) I will give you up my female

servants; with my full permission, examine them with any tortures you

please. The business at present is this: I must make his wife return

home to Pamphilus; should I effect that, I shall not regret its being

reported that I have been the only one to do what other courtesans

avoid doing.[58]

LACH. We find, Phidippus, that our wives have been unjustly

suspected[59] by us in this matter. Let us now try her still further;

for if your wife discovers that she has given credence to a false

charge, she will dismiss her resentment; but if my son is also angry,

by reason of the circumstance that his wife has been brought to bed

without his knowledge, that is a trifle: his anger on that account

will speedily subside. Assuredly in this matter, there is nothing so

bad as to be deserving of a separation.

PHID. I sincerely wish it may be {so}.

LACH. Examine {her}; here she is; she herself will satisfy you.

PHID. Why do you tell me these things? {Is it} because you have not

already heard what my feelings are with regard to this matter, Laches?

Do you only satisfy their minds.

LACH. Troth now, Bacchis, I do entreat that what you have promised me

you will do.

BACCH. Would you wish me, then, to go in about this business?

LACH. Go, and satisfy their minds, so as to make them believe it.

BACCH. I’ll go: although, upon my word, I am quite sure that my

presence will be disagreeable to them, for a married woman is the

enemy of a mistress, when she has been separated from her husband.

LACH. But they will be your friends, when they know the reason of your

coming.

PHID. And I promise that they shall be your friends, when they know

the fact; for you will release them from their mistake, and yourself,

at the same time, from suspicion.

BACCH. Wretched me! I’m ashamed {to meet} Philumena. (_To her

ATTENDANTS._) Do you both follow me into the house. (_Goes into the

house with PHIDIPPUS and her ATTENDANTS._)

LACH. (_to himself._) What is there that I could more wish for, than

what I see has happened to this woman? To gain favor without loss to

myself, and to benefit myself at {the same time}. For if now it is the

fact that she has really withdrawn from Pamphilus, she knows that by

that step she has acquired honor and reputation: she returns the favor

to him, and, by the same means, attaches us as friends to herself.

(_Goes into the house._)

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

_Enter PARMENO, moving along with difficulty._

PAR. (_to himself._) Upon my faith, my master does assuredly think my

labor of little value; to have sent me for nothing, where I have been

sitting the whole day to no purpose, waiting at the citadel for

Callidemides, his landlord at Myconos. And so, while sitting there

to-day, {like} a fool, as each person came by, I accosted him:--

“Young man, just tell me, pray, are you a Myconian?” “I am not.” “But

is your name Callidemides?” “No.” “Have you any {former} guest here

{named} Pamphilus?” All said. “No; and I don’t believe that there is

any such person.” At last, i’ faith, I was quite ashamed, {and} went

away. But how is it I see Bacchis coming out of our neighbor’s? What

business can she have there?

SCENE II.

_Enter BACCHIS, from the house of PHIDIPPUS._

BACCH. Parmeno, you make your appearance opportunely; run with all

speed[60] to Pamphilus.

PAR. Why thither?

BACCH. Say that I entreat him to come.

PAR. To your house?

BACCH. No; to Philumena.

PAR. What’s the matter?

BACCH. Nothing that concerns you; so cease to make inquiry.

PAR. Am I to say nothing else?

BACCH. Yes; that Myrrhina has recognized that ring as her daughter’s,

which he formerly gave me.

PAR. I understand-- is that all?

BACCH. That’s all. He will be here directly he has heard this from

you. But do you linger?

PAR. Far from it, indeed; for I’ve not had the opportunity given me

to-day; so much with running and walking about have I wasted the whole

day. (_Goes into the house of LACHES._)

SCENE III.

_BACCHIS, alone._

BACCH. What great joy have I caused for Pamphilus by my coming to-day!

How many blessings have I brought him! and from how many sorrows have

I rescued him! A son I save for him, when it was nearly perishing

through the agency of these {women} and of himself: a wife, whom he

thought that he must cast off forever, I restore {to him}: from the

suspicion that he lay under with his father and Phidippus, I have

cleared him. This ring, in fact, was the cause of these discoveries

being made. For I remember, that about ten months ago, at an early

hour of night, he came running home to my house, out of breath,

without a companion, and surcharged with wine,[61] with this ring {in

his hand}. I felt alarmed immediately: “My Pamphilus,” I said,

“prithee, my dear, why thus breathless, or where did you get that

ring? --tell me!” He {began} to pretend that he was thinking of

something else. When I saw {that}, I began to suspect I know not what,

{and} to press him still more to tell me. The fellow confessed that he

had ravished {some female}, he knew not whom, in the street; and said,

that while she was struggling, he had taken that ring away from her.

Myrrhina here recognized it just now, while I had it on my finger. She

asked whence it came: I told her all the story. Hence the discovery

has been made that it was Philumena ravished by him, and that this

new-born child is his. I am overjoyed that this happiness has befallen

him through my agency; although other courtesans would not have

similar feelings; nor, indeed, is it to our interest that any lover

should find pleasure in matrimony. But, i’faith, I never, for the sake

of gain, will give my mind to base actions. So long as I had the

opportunity, I found him to be kind, easy, and good-natured. This

marriage has fallen out unluckily for me,-- that I confess to be the

fact. But, upon my word, I do think that I have done nothing for it to

befall me deservedly. It is but reasonable to endure inconveniences

from one from whom I have received so many benefits.

SCENE IV.

_Enter PAMPHILUS and PARMENO, from the house of LACHES, on the other

side of the stage._

PAM. Once more, take care, will you, my {dear} Parmeno, that you have

brought me a faithful and distinct account, so as not to allure me for

a short time to indulge in these transient joys.

PAR. I have taken care.

PAM. For certain?

PAR. For certain.

PAM. I am quite a God, if it is so!

PAR. You’ll find it true.

PAM. Just stay, will you; I fear that I’m believing one thing, and you

are telling another.

PAR. I am staying.

PAM. I think you said to this effect-- that Myrrhina had discovered

that Bacchis has her ring.

PAR. It is the fact.

PAM. The one I formerly gave to her; and she has desired you to tell

me this: is such the fact?

PAR. Such is so, I tell you.

PAM. Who is there happier than I, and, in fact, more full of

joyousness? What am I to present you for these tidings? What? --what?

I know not.

PAR. But I know.

PAM. What?

PAR. Why, nothing; for neither in the tidings nor in myself do I know

of there being any advantage to you.

PAM. What! am I to suffer you, who have caused me, when dead, to be

restored from the shades to life-- to leave me unrewarded? Oh, you

deem me too thankless! But look-- I see Bacchis standing before the

door; she’s waiting for me, I suppose; I’ll accost her.

BACCH. Save you, Pamphilus!

PAM. Oh Bacchis! Oh my Bacchis-- my preserver!

BACCH. {It is} a fortunate thing, and gives me great delight.

PAM. By your actions, you give me reason to believe you, and so much

do you retain your former charming qualities, that wherever you go,

the meeting with you, your company, your conversation, always give

pleasure.

BACCH. And you, upon my word, possess your former manners and

disposition; so much so that not a single man living is more engaging

than you.

PAM. (_laughing._) Ha, ha, ha! do you {tell} me so?

BACCH. You had reason, Pamphilus, for being so fond of your wife. For

never before to-day did I set eyes upon her, so as to know her: she

seems a very gentle person.

PAM. Tell the truth.

BACCH. So may the Gods bless me, Pamphilus!

PAM. Tell me, have you as yet told any of these matters to my father?

BACCH. Not a word.

PAM. Nor is there need, in fact; therefore keep it a secret: I don’t

wish it to be the case here as it is in the Comedies,[62] where every

thing is known to every body. Here, those who ought to know, know

already; but those who ought not to know, shall neither hear of it nor

know it.

BACCH. Nay more, I will give you a {proof} why you may suppose that

this may be the more easily concealed. Myrrhina has told Phidippus to

this effect-- that she has given credit to my oath, and that, in

consequence, in her eyes you are exculpated.

PAM. Most excellent; and I trust that this matter will turn out

according to our wishes.

PAR. Master, may I not be allowed to know from you what is the good

that I have done to-day, or what it is you are talking about?

PAM. You may not.

PAR. Still I suspect. “I {restore} him, when dead, from the shades

below.”[63] In what way?

PAM. You don’t know, Parmeno, how much you have benefited me to-day,

and from what troubles you have extricated me.

PAR. Nay, but indeed I do know: and I did not do it without design.

PAM. I know that well enough (_ironically_).

BACCH. Could Parmeno, from negligence, omit any thing that ought to be

done?

PAM. Follow me in, Parmeno.

PAR. I’ll follow; for my part, I have done more good to-day, without

knowing it, than ever {I did}, knowingly, in all my life. (_Coming

forward._) Grant us your applause.[64]

FOOTNOTES

[Footnote 1: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]

[Footnote 2: From φειδὼ, “parsimony,” and ἱππὸς “a horse.”]

[Footnote 3: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

[Footnote 4: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

[Footnote 5: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]

[Footnote 6: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Heautontimorumenos.]

[Footnote 7: From μυῤῥινὴ “a myrtle.”]

[Footnote 8: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Heautontimorumenos.]

[Footnote 9: From φιλοτὴς “friendship.”]

[Footnote 10: From Syria, her native country.]

[Footnote 11: _Menander_)--According to some, this Play was

borrowed from the Greek of Apollodorus, a Comic Poet and

contemporary of Menander, who wrote forty-seven Plays.]

[Footnote 12: _Being Consuls_)--Cneius Octavius Nepos and T.

Manlius Torquatus were Consuls in the year from the building of

the City 587, and B.C. 166.]

[Footnote 13: _It was then approved of_)--“Placuit.” This is

placed at the end, in consequence of the inauspicious reception

which had been given to it on the two first representations. See

the account given in the Prologues.]

[Footnote 14: _Hecyra_)--Ver. 1. The Greek word Ἕκυρα,

a “step-mother,” or “mother-in-law,” Latinized.]

[Footnote 15: _And calamity_)--Ver. 3. “Calamitas.” This word is

used in the same sense in the first line of the Eunuch. This is

evidently the Prologue spoken on the second attempt to bring

forward the piece. On the first occasion it probably had none.

“Vitium” was a word used by the Augurs, with whom it implied an

unfavorable omen, and thence came to be used for any misfortune or

disaster. He seems to mean the depraved taste of the public, that

preferred exhibitions of rope-dancers and pugilists to witnessing

his Plays.]

[Footnote 16: _Again to sell it_)--Ver. 7. See the last Note to

the Second Prologue.]

[Footnote 17: _Other Plays of his_)--Ver. 8. Madame Dacier informs

us that Vossius was of opinion that the second representation of

this Play did not take place till after that of the Adelphi. In

that case, they had already seen the rest of his Plays.]

[Footnote 18: _Second Prologue_)--Eugraphius informs us that this

Prologue was spoken by Ambivius Turpio, the head of the company of

Actors.]

[Footnote 19: _Cæcilius_)--Ver. 14. Colman has the following Note:

“A famous Comic Poet among the Romans. His chief excellences are

said to have been, the gravity of his style and the choice of his

subjects. The first quality was attributed to him by Horace,

Tully, etc., and the last by Varro. ‘In argumentis Cæcilius poscit

palmam, in ethesi Terentius.’ ‘In the choice of subjects, Cæcilius

demands the preference; in the manners, Terence.’” Madame Dacier,

indeed, renders “in argumentis,” “in the disposition of his

subjects.” But the words will not bear that construction.

“Argumentum,” I believe, is uniformly used for the argument

itself, and never implies the conduct of it; as in the Prologue to

the Andrian, “non tam dissimili argumento.” Besides, the

disposition of the subject was the very art attributed by the

critics of those days to Terence, and which Horace mentions in the

very same line with the gravity of Cæcilius, distinguishing them

as the several characteristics of each writer, “Vincere Cæcilius

gravitate, Terentius arte.”]

[Footnote 20: _Vauntings of boxers_)--Ver. 33. Horace probably had

this passage in his mind when he penned the First Epistle in his

Second Book, l. 185; where he mentions the populace leaving a Play

in the midst for the sight of a bear, or an exhibition of boxers.]

[Footnote 21: _Of a rope-dancer_)--Ver. 34. The art of dancing on

the tight rope was carried to great perfection among the ancients.

Many paintings have been discovered, which show the numerous

attitudes which the performers assumed. The figures have their

heads enveloped in skins or caps, probably intended as a

protection in case of falling. At the conclusion of the

performance the dancer ran down the rope. Germanicus and Galba are

said to have exhibited elephants dancing on the tight rope.]

[Footnote 22: _The old custom of mine_)--Ver. 38. He says that on

the second representation he followed the plan which he had

formerly adopted in the Plays of Cæcilius, of bringing those

forward again which had not given satisfaction at first.]

[Footnote 23: _Fight for their places_)--Ver. 41. This was in

consequence of their sitting indiscriminately at the Amphitheatre,

where the gladiators were exhibited; whereas at the Theatres there

were distinct places appropriated to each “ordo” or class.]

[Footnote 24: _Gracing the scenic festival_)--Ver. 45. Madame

Dacier remarks that there is great force and eloquence in the

Actor’s affecting a concern for the sacred festivals, which were

in danger of being deprived of their chief ornaments, if by too

great a severity they discouraged the Poets who undertook to

furnish the Plays during the solemnity.]

[Footnote 25: _At my own expense_)--Ver. 57. It is generally

supposed that “meo pretio” means “a price named as my estimate;”

and that it was the custom for the Ædiles to purchase a Play of a

Poet at a price fixed by the head of the company of actors. It is

also thought that the money was paid to the actor, who handed over

the whole, or a certain part, to the Poet, and if the Play was not

received with favor, the Ædiles had the right to ask back the

money from the actor, who consequently became a loser by the

transaction. Pareus and Meric Casaubon think, however, that in

case of this Play, the Ædiles had purchased it from the Poet, and

the performers had bought it of the Ædiles as a speculation. What

he means at the end of the First Prologue by selling the Play over

again, is not exactly known. Perhaps if the Play had been then

performed throughout and received with no favor, he would have had

to forfeit the money, and lose all right to any future pecuniary

interest in it; but he preferred to cancel the whole transaction,

and to reserve the Play for purchase and representation at a more

favorable period.]

[Footnote 26: _Philotis_)--This is a protatic character, or one

that helps to introduce the subject of the Play, and then appears

no more.]

[Footnote 27: _Don’t say so, Parmeno_)--Ver. 109. She says this

ironically, at the same time intimating that she knows Parmeno too

well, not to be sure that he is as impatient to impart the secret

to her as she is to know it. Donatus remarks, that she pretends

she has no curiosity to hear it, that he may deem her the more

worthy to be intrusted with the secret.]

[Footnote 28: _Imbros_)--Ver. 171. An island in the Ægean Sea, off

the coast of Thrace.]

[Footnote 29: _From her presence_)--Ver. 182. For the purpose, as

will afterward appear, of not letting Sostrata see that she was

pregnant.]

[Footnote 30: _With a certain stranger_)--Ver. 195. Here Philotis

gives a reason, as Donatus observes, why she does not again appear

in the Play. The following is an extract from Colman’s remarks on

this passage: “It were to be wished, for the sake of the credit of

our author’s acknowledged {art} in the Drama, that Philotis had

assigned as good a reason for her appearing at all. Eugraphius

justly says: ‘The Courtesan in this Scene is a character quite

foreign to the fable.’ Donatus also says much the same thing in

his Preface, and in his first Note to this Comedy; but adds that

‘Terence chose this method rather than to relate the argument by

means of a Prologue, or to introduce a God speaking from a

machine. I will venture to say that the Poet might have taken a

much shorter and easier method than either; I mean, to have begun

the Play with the very Scene which now opens the Second Act.’”]

[Footnote 31: _Scene I._)--Colman has the following observations

on this Scene: “Donatus remarks that this Scene opens the

intention of Terence to oppose the generally-received opinion, and

to draw the character of a good step-mother. It would, therefore,

as has been already observed, have been a very proper Scene to

begin the Play, as it carries us immediately into the midst of

things; and we can not fail to be interested when we see the

persons acting so deeply interested themselves. We gather from it

just so much of the story as is necessary for our information at

first setting out. We are told of the abrupt departure of

Philumena, and are witnesses of the confusion in the two families

of Laches and Phidippus. The absence of Laches, which had been in

great measure the occasion of this misunderstanding, is also very

artfully mentioned in the altercation between him and Sostrata.

The character of Laches is very naturally drawn. He has a good

heart, and a testy disposition, and the poor old gentleman is kept

in such constant perplexity that he has perpetual occasion to

exert both those qualities.”]

[Footnote 32: _Intrust their children_)--Ver. 212. The plural

“liberos,” children, is used where only one is being spoken of,

similarly, in the Heautontimorumenos, l. 151.]

[Footnote 33: _If he comes to know_)--Ver. 262. Donatus observes

that the Poet shows his art in here preparing a reason to be

assigned by Pamphilus for his pretended discontent at the

departure of his wife.]

[Footnote 34: _Ha! Sostrata_)--Ver. 271. Colman observes on this

passage: “This is extremely artful. The answer of Philumena, as

related by Phidippus, contains an ample vindication of Pamphilus.

What, then, can we suppose could make the house so disagreeable to

her in his absence, but the behavior of Sostrata? She declares her

innocence; yet appearances are all against her. Supposing this to

be the first Act of the Play, it would be impossible for a Comedy

to open in a more interesting manner.”]

[Footnote 35: _And carry word_)--Ver. 314. It was the custom with

the Greeks and Romans, when returning from abroad, to send a

messenger before them, to inform their wives of their arrival.]

[Footnote 36: _Was in alarm about_)--Ver. 321. “Pavitare.”

Casaubon has a curious suggestion here; he thinks it not

improbable that he had heard the female servants whispering among

themselves that Philumena “paritare,” “was about to be brought to

bed,” which he took for “pavitare,” “was in fear” of something.]

[Footnote 37: _Heavy punishment_)--Ver. 335. Probably meaning that

he will be examined by torture, whether he has not, by drugs or

other means, contributed to Philumena’s illness.]

[Footnote 38: _And thee, Health_)--Ver. 338. She invokes

Æsculapius, the God of Medicine, and “Salus,” or “Health,”

because, in Greece, their statues were always placed near each

other; so that to have offered prayers to one and not to the

other, would have been deemed a high indignity. On the worship of

Æsculapius, see the opening Scene of the Curculio of Plautus.]

[Footnote 39: _An intermitting one_)--Ver. 357. “Quotidiana;”

literally, “daily.”]

[Footnote 40: _All of them change_)--Ver. 369. This must have been

imaginary, as they were not likely to be acquainted with the

reason of Philumena’s apprehensions.]

[Footnote 41: _Since she came to you_)--Ver. 394. There is great

doubt what is the exact meaning of “postquam ad te venit,” here,--

whether it means, “it is now the seventh month since she became

your wife,” or, “it is now the seventh month since she came to

your embraces,” which did not happen for two months after the

marriage. The former is, under the circumstances, the most

probable construction.]

[Footnote 42: _Committed upon her_)--Ver. 401. Colman very justly

observes here: “it is rather extraordinary that Myrrhina’s account

of the injury done to her daughter should not put Pamphilus in

mind of his own adventure, which comes out in the Fifth Act. It is

certain that had the Poet let the Audience into that secret in

this place, they would have immediately concluded that the wife of

Pamphilus and the lady whom he had ravished were one and the same

person.” Playwrights have never, in any age or country, troubled

themselves much about probability in their plots. Besides, his

adventure with Philumena was by no means an uncommon one. We find

similar instances mentioned by Plautus; and violence and

debauchery seem almost to have reigned paramount in the streets at

night.]

[Footnote 43: _Thirty days or more_)--Ver. 421. In his voyage from

Imbros to Athens, namely, which certainly appears to have been

unusually long.]

[Footnote 44: _To the citadel_)--Ver. 431. This was the fort or

citadel that defended the Piræus, and being three miles distant

from the city, was better suited for the design of Pamphilus,

whose object it was to keep Parmeno for some time at a distance.]

[Footnote 45: _He would rupture me_)--Ver. 435. He facetiously

pretends to think that Pamphilus may, during a storm at sea, have

vowed to walk him to death, if he should return home.]

[Footnote 46: _Regardful of a parent_)--Ver. 448. Colman observes

here: “This reflection seems to be rather improper in this place,

for the discovery of Philumena’s labor betrayed to Pamphilus the

real motive of her departure; after which discovery his anxiety

proceeds entirely from the supposed injury offered him, and his

filial piety is from that period made use of merely as a

pretense.”]

[Footnote 47: _He lived well_)--Ver. 461. This is living well in

the sense used by the “Friar of orders gray.” “Who leads a good

life is sure to live well.”]

[Footnote 48: _Brought home nothing more_)--Ver. 462. Colman

remarks that this passage is taken notice of by Donatus as a

particularly happy stroke of character; and indeed the idea of a

covetous old man gaping for a fat legacy, and having his mouth

stopped by a moral precept, is truly comic.]

[Footnote 49: _Pay back her portion_)--Ver. 502. As was

universally done on a separation by agreement.]

[Footnote 50: _At the right time_)--Ver. 531. Lemaire observes

that, from this passage, it would appear that the Greeks

considered seven months sufficient for gestation. So it would

appear, if we are to take the time of the Play to be seven, and

not nine, months after the marriage; and, as before observed, the

former seems to be the more reasonable conclusion.]

[Footnote 51: _A ring which_)--Ver. 574. Colman remarks that this

preparation for the catastrophe by the mention of the ring, is not

so artful as might have been expected from Terence; as in this

soliloquy he tells the circumstances directly to the Audience.]

[Footnote 52: _And festive days_)--Ver. 592. “Festos dies.” The

days for sacrificing to particular Divinities, when she would have

the opportunity of meeting her friends, and making herself merry

with them.]

[Footnote 53: _Look forward with impatience to my death_)--Ver.

596. Colman says: “This idea of the long life of a step-mother

being odious to her family, is applied in a very beautiful and

uncommon manner by Shakspeare:--

“Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour

Draws on apace; for happy days bring in

Another morn; but oh, methinks how slow

This old morn wanes! she lingers my desires

Like to a step-dame, or a dowager,

Long withering out a young man’s revenue.”

_Midsummer Night’s Dream._]

[Footnote 54: _The old man and the old woman_)--Ver. 621. “Senex

atque anus.” In these words he probably refers to the commencement

of many of the stories current in those times, which began: “There

were once upon a time an old man and an old woman.” Indeed, almost

the same words occur in the Stichus of Plautus, l. 540, at the

commencement of a story: “Fuit olim, quasi ego sum, senex,” “There

was upon a time an old man, just like me.”]

[Footnote 55: _Still take the child_)--Ver. 638. In cases of

separation it was customary for the father to have the care of the

male children.]

[Footnote 56: _But should you like_)--Ver. 725. Donatus observes

that Phidippus utters these words with an air of disinclination to

be present at the conference; and, indeed, the characters are well

sustained, as it would not become him coolly to discourse with a

courtesan, whom he supposes to have alienated Pamphilus from his

daughter, although he might very properly advise it, as being

likely to conduce to the peace of both families.]

[Footnote 57: _Kept Pamphilus at a distance_)--Ver. 752. Colman

observes, how are we to reconcile this with the words of Parmeno

at the beginning of the Play, where he says that Pamphilus visited

Bacchis daily; and he inquires whether we are to suppose that

Bacchis, who behaves so candidly in every other instance, wantonly

perjures herself in this, or that the Poet, by a strange

infatuation attending him in this Play, contradicts himself? To

this it may be answered, that as Bacchis appears to be so

scrupulous in other instances, it is credible that,

notwithstanding his visits, she may not have allowed him to share

her embraces.]

[Footnote 58: _Other courtesans avoid doing_)--Ver. 777. Colman

has the following quotation from Donatus: “Terence, by his

uncommon art, has attempted many innovations with great success.

In this Comedy, he introduces, contrary to received prejudices,

a good step-mother and an honest courtesan; but at the same time

he so carefully assigns their motives of action, that by him alone

every thing seems reconcilable to truth and nature; for this is

just the opposite of what he mentions in another place, as the

common privilege of all Poets, ‘to paint good matrons and wicked

courtesans.’” Perhaps the same good feeling prompted Terence, in

showing that a mother-in-law and a courtesan could be capable of

acting with good and disinterested feelings, which caused

Cumberland to write his Play of “The Jew,” to combat the popular

prejudice against that persecuted class, by showing, in the

character of Sheva, that a Jew might possibly be a virtuous man.]

[Footnote 59: _Have been unjustly suspected_)--Ver. 778. The words

here employed are also capable of meaning, if an active sense is

given to “suspectas,” “our wives have entertained wrong

suspicions;” but the sense above given seems preferable, as being

the meaning of the passage.]

[Footnote 60: _Run with all speed_)--Ver. 809. Donatus remarks,

that Parmeno is drawn as being of a lazy and inquisitive

character; and that Terence, therefore, humorously contrives to

keep him always on the move, and in total ignorance of what is

going on.]

[Footnote 61: _Surcharged with wine_)--Ver. 824. Cooke has this

remark here: “I suppose that this is the best excuse the Poet

could make for the young gentleman’s being guilty of felony and

rape at the same time. In this speech, the incident is related on

which the catastrophe of the Play turns, which incident is a very

barbarous one, and attended with more than one absurdity, though

it is the occasion of an agreeable discovery.”]

[Footnote 62: _In the Comedies_)--Ver. 867.-- Madame Dacier

observes on this passage: “Terence here, with reason, endeavors to

make the most of a circumstance peculiar to his Play. In other

Comedies, every body, Actors as well as Spectators, are at last

equally acquainted with the whole intrigue and catastrophe, and it

would even be a defect in the plot were there any obscurity

remaining. But Terence, like a true genius, makes himself superior

to rules, and adds new beauties to his piece by forsaking them.

His reasons for concealing from part of the personages of the

Drama the principal incident of the plot, are so plausible and

natural, that he could not have followed the beaten track without

offending against manners and decency. This bold and uncommon turn

is one of the chief graces of the Play.”]

[Footnote 63: _From the shades below_)--Ver. 876. Parmeno says

this, while pondering upon the meaning of all that is going on,

and thereby expresses his impatience to become acquainted with it.

He therefore repeats what Pamphilus has before said in the twelfth

line of the present Act, about his having been restored from death

to life by his agency.]

[Footnote 64: _Your applause_)--Ver. 881. We may here remark, that

the Hecyra is the only one of the Plays of Terence with a single

plot.]

*       *       *       *       *

*       *       *       *

PHORMIO; OR, THE SCHEMING PARASITE

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

DEMIPHO,[1] } Aged Athenians, brothers.

CHREMES,[2] }

ANTIPHO,[3] son of Demipho.

PHÆDRIA,[4] son of Chremes.

PHORMIO,[5] a Parasite.

GETA,[6] servant of Demipho.

DAVUS,[7] a servant.

HEGIO,[8]    }

CRATINUS,[9] } Advocates.

CRITO,[10]   }

DORIO,[11] a Procurer.

NAUSISTRATA,[12] the wife of Chremes.

SOPHRONA,[13] the nurse of Phanium.

_Scene._--Athens; before the houses of DEMIPHO, CHREMES, and DORIO.

THE SUBJECT.

CHREMES and DEMIPHO are two aged Athenians, brothers. Nausistrata, the

wife of Chremes, is a wealthy woman, possessed of large estates in the

island of Lemnos. Chremes, who goes thither yearly to receive the

rents, meets with a poor woman there, whom he secretly marries, and

has by her a daughter called Phanium: while engaged in this intrigue,

Chremes passes at Lemnos by the name of Stilpho. By his wife,

Nausistrata, at Athens, Chremes has a son, named Phædria, and his

brother has a son, named Antipho. Phanium having now arrived at her

fifteenth year, the two brothers privately agree that she shall be

brought to Athens and married to Antipho. For this purpose, Chremes

goes to Lemnos, while Demipho is obliged to take a journey to Cilicia.

On departing, they leave their sons in the care of Geta, one of

Demipho’s servants. Shortly afterward, Phædria falls in love with a

Music-girl, but, from want of means, is unable to purchase her from

her owner. In the mean time, the Lemnian wife of Chremes, urged by

poverty, embarks for Athens, whither she arrives with her daughter and

her nurse. Here they inquire for Stilpho, but in vain, as they can not

find any one of that name. Shortly after, the mother dies, and

Antipho, seeing Phanium by accident, falls in love with her. Being

wishful to marry her, he applies to Phormio, a Parasite, for his

advice. The latter hits upon the following scheme: there being a law

at Athens, which obliges the next-of-kin to female orphans, either to

marry them or give them a portion, the Parasite pretends that he is a

friend of Phanium, and insists that Antipho is her nearest relation,

and is consequently bound to marry her. Antipho is summoned before a

court of justice, and it being previously arranged, allows judgment to

be given against himself, and immediately marries Phanium. Shortly

after, the old men return upon the same day, and are much vexed, the

one on finding that his son has married a woman without a fortune, the

other that he has lost the opportunity of getting his daughter

advantageously married. In the mean time, Phædria being necessitated

to raise some money to purchase the Music-girl, Geta and Phormio

arrange that the former shall pretend to the old man that Phormio has

consented to take back the woman whom Antipho has married, if Demipho

will give her a portion of thirty minae. Demipho borrows the money of

Chremes, and pays it to Phormio, who hands it over to Phædria, and

Phædria to Dorio, for his mistress. At this conjuncture, it becomes

known who Phanium really is, and the old men are delighted to find

that Antipho has married the very person they wished. They attempt,

however, to get back the thirty minae from Phormio, and proceed to

threats and violence. On this, Phormio, who has accidentally learned

the intrigue of Chremes with the woman of Lemnos, exposes him, and

relates the whole story to his wife, Nausistrata; on which she

censures her husband for his bad conduct, and the Play concludes with

her thanks to Phormio for his information.

THE TITLE OF THE PLAY.

Performed at the Roman Games,[14] L. Posthumius Albinus and

L. Cornelius Merula being Curule Ædiles. L. mbivius Turpio and

L. Atilius Prænestinus performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of

Claudius, composed the music to a base and a treble flute. It is

wholly from the Greek, {being} the Epidicazomenos of Apollodorus. It

was represented four times,[15] C. Fannius and M. Valerius being

Consuls.[16]

PHORMIO; OR, THE SCHEMING PARASITE.

THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.

Demipho, the brother of Chremes, has gone abroad, his son Antipho

being left at Athens. Chremes has secretly a wife and a daughter at

Lemnos, another wife at Athens, and an only son, who loves a

Music-girl. The mother arrives at Athens from Lemnos, {and there}

dies. The girl, her orphan daughter, (Chemes being away,) arranges the

funeral. After Antipho has fallen in love with her when seen there,

through the aid of the Parasite he receives her as his wife. His

father and Chremes, having {now} returned, {begin} to be enraged.

Afterward they give thirty minæ to the Parasite, that he may take her

{as his own} wife. With this money the Music-girl is bought {for

Phædria}. Antipho {then} keeps his wife, who has been recognized by

his uncle.

THE PROLOGUE.

Since the old Poet[17] can not withdraw {our} bard from his pursuits

and reduce him to indolence, he endeavors, by invectives, to deter him

from writing: for he is wont to say to this effect,-- that the Plays

which he has hitherto composed are poor in their language, and of

meagre style: because he has nowhere described a frantic youth as

seeing a hind in flight, and the hounds pursuing; while he

implores[18] {and} entreated that he would give her aid. But if he had

been aware that {his Play}, when formerly first represented, stood its

ground more through the merits of the performers than its own, he

would attack with much less boldness than he does. Now, if there is

any one who says or thinks to this effect, that if the old Poet had

not assailed him first, the young one could have devised no Prologue

for him to repeat, without having some one to abuse, let him receive

this for an answer: “that the prize is proposed in common to all who

apply to the Dramatic art.” He has aimed at driving our Poet from his

studies to {absolute} want; he {then} has intended this for an answer,

not an attack. If he had opposed him with fair words, he would have

heard himself civilly addressed; what has been given by him, let him

consider as {now} returned. I will make an end of speaking about him,

when, of his own accord, he himself makes an end of offending. Now

give your attention to what I request. I present you a new play, which

they call “Epidicazomenos,”[19] in Greek: in the Latin, he calls it

“Phormio;” because the person that acts the principal part is Phormio,

a Parasite, through whom, principally, the plot will be carried on, if

your favor attends the Poet. Lend your attention; in silence give an

ear with impartial feelings, that we may not experience a like fortune

to what we did, when, through a tumult, our Company was driven from

the place;[20] which place, the merit of the actor, and your good-will

and candor seconding it, has {since} restored unto us.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

_Enter DAVUS,[21] with a bag of money in his hand._

DAV. Geta, my very good friend and fellow-townsman, came to me

yesterday. There had been for some time a trifling balance of money of

his in my hands upon a small account; {he asked me} to make it up.

I have done so, {and} am carrying it to him. But I hear that his

master’s son has taken a wife; this, I suppose, is scraped together as

a present for her. How unfair a custom! --that those who have the

least should always be giving something to the more wealthy! That

which the poor wretch has with difficulty spared, ounce by ounce, out

of his allowance,[22] defrauding himself of every indulgence, the

whole of it will she carry off, without thinking with how much labor

it has been acquired. And then besides, Geta will be struck[23] for

another present[24] when his mistress is brought to bed; and then

again for another {present}, when the child’s birthday comes; when

they initiate him,[25] too: all this the mother will carry off; the

child will {only} be the pretext for the present. But don’t I see Geta

there?

SCENE II.

_Enter GETA, from the house of DEMIPHO._

GETA (_at the door, to those within._) If any red-haired man should

inquire for me--

DAV. (_stepping forward._) Here he is, say no more.

GETA (_starting._) Oh! Why I was trying {to come} and meet you, Davus.

DAV. (_giving the money to GETA._) Here, take it; it’s {all} ready

counted out;[26] the number just amounts to the sum I owed you.

GETA. I am obliged to you; and I return you thanks for not having

forgotten me.

DAV. Especially as people’s ways are nowadays; things are come to such

a pass, if a person repays you any thing, you must be greatly obliged

to him. But why are you out of spirits?

GETA. What, I? You little know what terror and peril I am in.

DAV. What’s the matter?

GETA. You shall know, if you can only keep it secret.

DAV. Out upon you, simpleton; {the man}, whose trustworthiness you

have experienced as to money, are you afraid to intrust with words? In

what way have I any interest in deceiving you?

GETA. Well then, listen.

DAV. I give you my best attention.

GETA. Davus, do you know Chremes, the elder brother of our old

gentleman?

DAV. Why should I not?

GETA. Well, {and} his son Phædria?

DAV. As well as your own self.

GETA. It {so} happened to both the old gentlemen, just at the same

period, that the one had to take a journey to Lemnos, and our {old

man} to Cilicia, to see an old acquaintance; he tempted over the old

man by letters, promising {him} all but mountains of gold.

DAV. To one who had so much property, that he had more than he could

use?

GETA. Do have done; that is his way.

DAV. Oh, {as for that}, I {really} ought to have been a man of

fortune.

GETA. When departing hence, both the old gentlemen left me as a sort

of tutor to their sons.

DAV. Ah, Geta, you undertook a hard task {there}.

GETA. I came to experience it, I know that. I’m quite sure that I was

forsaken by my good Genius, who must have been angry with me.[27]

I began to oppose them at first; {but} what need of talking? As long

as I was trusty to the old men, I was paid for it in my

shoulder-blades. This, then, occurred to my mind: why, this is folly

to kick against the spur.[28] I began to do every thing for them that

they wished to be humored in.

DAV. You knew how to make your market.[29]

GETA. Our {young fellow did} no mischief whatever at first; that

Phædria at once picked up a certain damsel, a Music-girl, {and} fell

in love with her to distraction. She belonged to a most abominable

Procurer; and their fathers had taken good care that they should have

nothing to give him. There remained nothing for him then but to feed

his eyes, to follow her about, to escort her to the school,[30] and to

escort her back again. We, having nothing to do, lent our aid to

Phædria. Near the school at which she was taught, right opposite the

place, there was a certain barber’s shop: here we were generally in

the habit of waiting for her, until she was coming home again. In the

mean time, while {one day} we were sitting there, there came in a

young man in tears;[31] we were surprised at this. We inquired what

was the matter? “Never,” said he, “has poverty appeared to me a burden

so grievous and so insupportable as just now. I have just seen a

certain poor young woman in this neighborhood lamenting her dead

mother. She was laid out before her, and not a single friend,

acquaintance, or relation was there with her, except one poor old

woman, to assist her in the funeral: I pitied her. The girl herself

was of surpassing beauty.” What need of a long story? She moved us

all. At once Antipho {exclaims}, “Would you like us to go and visit

her?” The other {said}, “I think we ought-- let us go-- show us the

way, please.” We went, and arrived {there}; we saw her; the girl was

beautiful, and that you might say so the more, there was no

heightening to her beauty; her hair disheveled, her feet bare, herself

neglected, and in tears; her dress mean, so that, had there not been

an excess of beauty in her very charms, these circumstances must have

extinguished those charms. The one who had lately fallen in love with

the Music-girl said: “She is well enough;” but our {youth}--

DAV. I know it already-- fell in love with her.

GETA. Can you imagine to what an extent? Observe the consequence. The

day after, he goes straight to the old woman; entreats her to let him

have her: she, on the other hand, refuses him, and says that he is not

acting properly; that she is a citizen of Athens, virtuous, and born

of honest {parents}: that if he wishes to make her his wife, he is at

liberty to do so according to law; but if otherwise, she gives him a

refusal. Our {youth} was at a loss what to do. He was both eager to

marry her, and he dreaded his absent father.

DAV. Would not his father, if he had returned, have given him leave?

GETA. He let him marry a girl with no fortune, and of obscure birth!

He would never do {so}.

DAV. What came of it at last?

GETA. What came of it? There is one Phormio here, a Parasite, a fellow

of great assurance; may all the Gods confound him!

DAV. What has he done?

GETA. He has given this piece of advice, which I will tell you of.

“There is a law, that orphan girls are to marry those who are their

next-of-kin; and the same law commands such persons to marry them.

I’ll say you are the next-of-kin, and take out a summons[32] against

you; I’ll pretend that I am a friend of the girl’s father; we will

come before the judges: who her father was, who her mother, how she is

related to you-- all this I’ll trump up, just as will be advantageous

and suited to my purpose; on your disproving none of these things,

I shall prevail, of course. Your father will return; a quarrel will be

the consequence; what care I? She will still be ours.”

DAV. An amusing piece of assurance!

GETA. He was persuaded to this. It was carried out; they came {into

court}: we were beaten. He has married her.

DAV. What is it you tell me?

GETA. Just what you have heard.

DAV. O Geta, what will become of you?

GETA. Upon my faith, I don’t know; this one thing I do know, whatever

fortune may bring, I’ll bear it with firmness.

DAV. You please me; well, that is the duty of a man.

GETA. All my hope is in myself.

DAV. I commend you.

GETA. Suppose I have recourse to some one to intercede for me, who

will plead for me in these terms: “Pray, do forgive him this time; but

if after this {he does} any thing, I make no entreaty:” if only he

doesn’t add, “When I’ve gone, e’en kill him {for my part}.”

DAV. What of the one who was usher to the Music-girl?[33]

GETA (_shrugging his shoulders._) So so, but poorly.

DAV. Perhaps he hasn’t much to give.

GETA. Why, really, nothing at all, except mere hopes.

DAV. Is his father come back or not?

GETA. Not yet.

DAV. Well, when do you expect your old man?

GETA. I don’t know for certain; but I just now heard that a letter has

been brought from him, and has been left with the officers of the

customs: I’m going to fetch it.

DAV. Is there any thing else that you want with me, Geta?

GETA. {Nothing; but} that I wish you well. (_Exit DAVUS._) Hark you,

boy (_calling at the door_). Is nobody coming out here? (_A LAD comes

out._) Take this, and give it to Dorcium. (_He gives the purse to the

LAD, who carries it into DEMIPHO’S house and exit GETA._)

SCENE III.

_Enter ANTIPHO and PHÆDRIA._

ANT. That things should have come to such a pass, Phædria, that I

should be in utter dread of my father, who wishes me so well, whenever

his return comes into my thoughts! Had I not been inconsiderate,

I might have waited for him, as I ought to have done.

PHÆD. What’s the matter?

ANT. Do you ask the question? You, who have been my confederate in so

bold an adventure? How I do wish it had never entered the mind of

Phormio to persuade me to this, or to urge me in the heat of my

passion to this step, which is the source of my misfortunes. {Then} I

should not have obtained her; in that case I might have been uneasy

for some {few} days; but still, this perpetual anxiety would not have

been tormenting my mind (_touching PHÆDRIA_).

PHÆD. I hear you.

ANT. While I am every moment expecting his return, who is to sever

from me this connection.[34]

PHÆD. Other men feel uneasiness because they can not gain what they

love; you complain because you have too much. You are surfeited with

love, Antipho. Why, really, upon my faith, this situation of yours is

surely one to be coveted and desired. So may the Gods kindly bless me,

could I be at liberty to be so long in possession of the object of my

love, I could contentedly die. Do you, then, form a judgment as to the

rest, what I am now suffering from this privation, and what pleasure

you enjoy from the possession of your desires; not to mention how,

without {any} expense, you have obtained a well-born and genteel

woman, and have got a wife of unblemished reputation: happy {you},

were not this one thing wanting, a mind capable of bearing all this

with moderation. If you had to deal with that Procurer with whom I

have to deal, then you would {soon} be sensible of it. We are mostly

all of us inclined by nature to be dissatisfied with our lot.

ANT. Still, on the other hand, Phædria, you now seem to me the

fortunate man, who still have the liberty, without restraint, of

resolving on what pleases you best: {whether} to keep, to love on,

{or} to give her up. I, unfortunately, have got myself into that

position, that I have neither right[35] to give her up, nor liberty to

retain her. But how’s this? Is it our Geta I see running this way?

’Tis he himself. Alas! I’m dreadfully afraid what news it is he’s now

bringing me.

SCENE IV.

_Enter GETA, running, at the other side of the stage._

GETA (_to himself._) Geta, you are undone, unless you instantly find

out some expedient; so suddenly do such mighty evils now threaten me

thus unprepared, which I neither know how to shun, nor how to

extricate myself therefrom; for this daring step of ours can not now

any longer be kept a secret. If such a result is not adroitly guarded

against, these matters will cause the ruin of myself, or of my master.

ANT. (_to PHÆDRIA._) Why, I wonder, is he coming in such fright?

GETA (_to himself._) Besides, I’ve but a moment left for this matter--

my master’s close at hand.

ANT. (_to PHÆDRIA._) What mischief is this?

GETA (_to himself._) When he comes to hear of it, what remedy shall I

discover for his anger? Am I to speak? I shall irritate him: be

silent? I shall provoke him: excuse myself? I should be washing a

brickbat.[36] Alas! unfortunate me! While I am trembling for myself,

this Antipho distracts my mind. I am concerned for him; I’m in dread

for him: ’tis he that now keeps me here; for had it not been for him,

I should have made due provision for my safety, and have taken

vengeance on the old man for his crabbedness; I should have scraped up

something, and straightway taken to my heels away from here.

ANT. (_to PHÆDRIA._) I wonder what running away or theft it is that

he’s planning.

GETA (_to himself._) But where shall I find Antipho, or which way go

look for him?

PHÆD. (_to ANTIPHO._) He’s mentioning your name.

ANT. (_to PHÆDRIA._) I know not what great misfortune I expect to hear

from this messenger.

PHÆD. (_to ANTIPHO._) Why, are you in your senses?

GETA (_to himself._) I’ll make my way homeward; he’s generally there.

PHÆD. (_to ANTIPHO._) Let’s call the fellow back.

ANT. (_calling out._) Stop, this instant.

GETA (_turning round._) Heyday-- with authority enough, whoever you

are.

ANT. Geta!

GETA. The very person I wanted to find.

ANT. Pray, tell me what news you bring and dispatch it in {one} word,

if you can.

GETA. I’ll do {so}.

ANT. Out with it.

GETA. Just now, at the harbor--

ANT. What, my {father}--?

GETA. You’ve hit it.

ANT. Ruined outright!

PHÆD. Pshaw!

ANT. What am I to do?

PHÆD. (_to GETA._) What is it you say?

GETA. That I have seen his father, your uncle.

ANT. How am I, wretch that I am, now to find a remedy for this sudden

misfortune? But if it should be my fortune, Phanium, to be torn away

from you, life would cease to be desirable.

GETA. Therefore, Antipho, since matters are thus, the more need have

you to be on your guard; fortune helps the brave.

ANT. I am not myself.

GETA. But just now it is especially necessary you should be so,

Antipho; for if your father perceives that you are alarmed, he will

think that you have been guilty of some fault.

PHÆD. That’s true.

ANT. I can not change.

GETA. What would you do, if now something else still more difficult

had to be done by you?

ANT. As I am not equal to this, I should be still less so to the

other.

GETA. This is doing nothing at all, Phædria, let’s be gone; why do we

waste our time here to no purpose. I shall be off.

PHÆD. And I too. (_They move as if going._)

ANT. Pray, now, if I assume an air, will that do? (_He endeavors to

assume another air._)

GETA. You are trifling.

ANT. Look at my countenance-- there’s for you. (_Assuming a different

air._) Will that do?

GETA. No.

ANT. Well, will this? (_Assuming another air._)

GETA. Pretty well.

ANT. Well then, this? (_Assuming a still bolder air._)

GETA. That’s just the thing. There now, keep to that, and answer him

word for word, like for like; don’t let him, in his anger, disconcert

you with his blustering words.

ANT. I understand.

GETA. {Say} that you were forced against your will by law, by sentence

of the court; do you take me? (_Looking earnestly in one direction._)

But who is the old man that I see at the end of the street?

ANT. ’Tis he himself. I can not stand it. (_Going._)

GETA. Oh! What are you about? Whither are you going, Antipho? Stop,

I tell you.

ANT. I know my own self and my offense; to your management I trust

Phanium and my own existence. (_Exit hastily._

SCENE V.

_PHÆDRIA and GETA._

PHÆD. Geta, what’s to be done now?

GETA. You will just hear some harsh language: I shall be trussed up

and trounced, if I am not somewhat mistaken. But what we were just now

advising Antipho to do, the same we must do ourselves, Phædria.

PHÆD. Away with your “musts;” rather do you command me what I am to

do.

GETA. Do you remember what were your words formerly on our entering

upon this project, with the view of protecting yourselves from ill

consequences-- that their cause was just, clear, unanswerable, {and}

most righteous?

PHÆD. I remember it.

GETA. Well then, now there’s need of that {plea}, or of one still

better and more plausible, if such there can be.

PHÆD. I’ll use my best endeavors.

GETA. Do you then accost him first; I’ll be here in reserve,[37] by

way of reinforcement, if you give ground at all.

PHÆD. Very well. (_They retire to a distance._)

SCENE VI.

_Enter DEMIPHO, at the other side of the stage._

DEM. (_to himself._) And is it possible that Antipho has taken a wife

without my consent? and that no authority of mine-- but let alone

“authority”[38]-- no displeasure of mine, at all events, has he been

in dread of? To have no sense of shame! O audacious conduct! O Geta,

{rare} adviser!

GETA (_apart to PHÆDRIA._) Just {brought in} at last.

DEM. What will they say to me, or what excuse will they find? I wonder

much.

GETA (_apart._) Why, I’ve found that out already; do think of

something else.

DEM. Will he be saying this to me: “I did it against my will; the law

compelled me?” I hear {you, and} admit it.

GETA (_apart._) Well said!

DEM. But knowingly, in silence, to give up the cause to his

adversaries-- did the law oblige him to do that as well?

GETA (_apart._) That is a hard {blow}.

PHÆD. I’ll clear that up; let me alone {for that}.

DEM. It is a matter of doubt what I am to do; for beyond expectation,

and quite past all belief, has this befallen me. So enraged am I, that

I can not compose my mind to think {upon it}. Wherefore it is the duty

of all persons, when affairs are the most prosperous,[39] then in

especial to reflect within themselves in what way they are to endure

adversity. Returning from abroad, let him always picture to himself

dangers and losses, either offenses committed by a son, or the death

of his wife, or the sickness of a daughter,-- that these things are

the common lot, so that no one of them may ever come as a surprise

upon his feelings. Whatever falls out beyond his hopes, all that he

must look upon as so much gain.

GETA (_apart._) O Phædria, it is incredible how much I surpass my

master in wisdom. All my misfortunes have been {already} calculated

upon by me, upon my master coming home. I must grind at the mill, be

beaten, wear fetters, be set to work in the fields; not one individual

thing of these will happen unexpected by my mind. Whatever falls out

beyond my expectations, all that I shall look upon as so much gain.

But why do you hesitate to accost him, and soften him at the outset

with fair words? (_PHÆDRIA goes forward to accost DEMIPHO._)

DEM. (_to himself._) I see Phædria, my brother’s son, coming toward

me.

PHÆD. My uncle, welcome!

DEM. Greetings to you; but where is Antipho?

PHÆD. That you have arrived in safety----

DEM. I believe it; answer my question.

PHÆD. He is well; he’s close at hand; but is every thing quite to your

wishes?

DEM. I wish it was so, indeed.

PHÆD. What’s the matter?

DEM. Do you ask me, Phædria? You {people} have cooked up a fine

marriage in my absence.

PHÆD. What now, are you angry with him for that?

GETA (_apart._) What a clever contriver!

DEM. Have I not reason to be angry with him? I long for him to come

into my sight, that he may know that through his faultiness, from

being a mild father, I am become a most severe one.

PHÆD. But he has done nothing, uncle, for which you should blame him.

DEM. Now, do look at that; all alike; all hanging together; when you

know one, you know all.

PHÆD. That is not the case.

DEM. When the one is in fault, the other is at hand to defend him;

when it is the other, {then} he is ready; they {just} help one another

by turns.

GETA (_apart._) The old man, without knowing it, has exactly described

their proceedings.

DEM. For if it had not been so, you would not, Phædria, have stood up

for him.

PHÆD. If, uncle, it is {the fact}, that Antipho has been guilty of any

fault, in consequence of which he has been too regardless of his

interest or his reputation, I would not allege any reason why he

should not suffer what he deserves. But if some one by chance, relying

upon his own artfulness, has laid a snare for our youthful age, and

has succeeded, is it our fault or {that} of the judges, who often,

through envy, take away from the rich, or, through compassion, award

to the poor?

GETA (_apart._) Unless I knew the case, I could fancy he was saying

the truth.

DEM. Is there any judge who can possibly know your rights, when you

yourself don’t answer a word-- as he has done?

PHÆD. He acted the part of an ingenuous young man; after they had come

before the judges, he was not able to say what he had intended, so

much did his modesty confuse him there through his bashfulness.

GETA (_apart._) I commend him: but why do I hesitate at once to accost

the old man? (_Going forward to DEMIPHO._) Master, welcome to you! I’m

glad to see you safe returned.

DEM. (_ironically._) Ah, excellent guardian! save you, stay of my

family, no doubt, to whom, at my departure, I intrusted my son.

GETA. For some minutes past I’ve heard you accusing all of us

undeservedly; and me the most undeservedly of them all; for what would

you have had me do for you in this affair? The laws do not allow a

person who is a slave to plead; nor is there any giving evidence[40]

{on his part}.

DEM. I grant all that: I admit this too-- the young man, unused to

courts, was bashful; I allow it: you, {too, are} a slave: still, if

she was ever so near a relative, it was not necessary {for him} to

marry her, but as the law enjoins, you might have given her a

portion;[41] she could have looked out for another husband. Why, then,

in preference, did he bring a pauper home?

GETA. No {particular} reason; but he hadn’t the money.

DEM. He might have borrowed it from some person or other.

GETA. From some person or other? Nothing more easily said.

DEM. After all, if on no other terms, on interest.

GETA. Aye, aye, fine talking; as if any one would have trusted him,

while you were living.[42]

DEM. No, it shall not be so; it must not be. Ought I to allow her to

remain with him as his wife a single day? She merits no indulgence.

I should like this fellow to be pointed out to me, or to be shown

where he lives.

GETA. Phormio, do you mean?

DEM. That fellow, the woman’s next friend?[43]

GETA. I’ll have him here immediately.

DEM. Where is Antipho at present?

GETA. Away from home.

DEM. Go, Phædria, look for him, and bring him here.

PHÆD. I’ll go straightway to the place.

GETA (_aside._) To Pamphila, you mean.

(_Exeunt PHÆDRIA and GETA._

SCENE VII.

_DEMIPHO, alone._

DEM. (_to himself._) I’ll just step home to salute the household

Gods.[44] From there, I’ll go to the Forum, and summon some of my

friends to give me their assistance in this affair; so that I may not

be unprepared, when Phormio comes. (_Goes into his house._)

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.

_Enter PHORMIO and GETA._

PHOR. And so you say[45] that, dreading his father’s presence, he has

taken himself off?

GETA. Exactly so.

PHOR. That Phanium is left alone?

GETA. Just so.

PHOR. And that the old man is in a rage?

GETA. Extremely so.

PHOR. The whole business, Phormio, rests on yourself alone; you

yourself have hashed it up;[46] it must all be swallowed by yourself,

{so} set about it.

GETA. I entreat you----

PHOR. (_to himself._) If he inquires.

GETA. In you is {all} our hope.

PHOR. (_to himself._) Look at this, now:-- What if he sends her back?

GETA. It was you that urged us.

PHOR. (_to himself._) I think that will do.

GETA. Do help us.

PHOR. (_with alacrity._) Let the old gentleman come; all my plans are

now ready prepared in my mind.

GETA. What will you do?

PHOR. What would you have me? But that Phanium may continue {with

him}, and that I may clear Antipho from this charge, and turn upon

myself[47] all the wrath of the old gentleman?

GETA. O brave and kind man! But, Phormio, I often dread lest this

courage may end in the stocks at last.[48]

PHOR. Oh, by no means; I’ve made trial, and have already pondered on

the paths for my feet. How many men before to-day do you suppose I

have beaten, even to death, strangers as well as citizens: the better

I understand it, the oftener I try it. Just tell me, look you, did you

ever hear of an action of damages being brought against me?

GETA. How {is} that?

PHOR. Because the net is never spread for the hawk or the kite, that

do us the mischief; it is spread for those that do us none: because in

the last there is profit, while with the others it is labor lost. For

persons, out of whom any thing can be got, there’s risk from others;

they know that I’ve got nothing. You will say: “They will take

you,[49] when sentenced, into their house;” they have no wish to

maintain a devouring fellow; and, in my opinion, they are wise, if for

an injury they are unwilling to return the highest benefits.

GETA. It’s impossible that sufficient thanks can be returned you by

him for your kindness.

PHOR. Why no; no person can return thanks sufficient to his patron[50]

for his kindness. For you to take your place {at table} at free

cost,[51] anointed and just washed at the bath, with your mind at

ease, whereas he is devoured with the care and expense: while every

thing is being done to give you delight, he is being vexed at heart;

you are laughing away, first to drink,[52] take the higher place;

a banquet full of doubts[53] is placed before you--

GETA. What is the meaning of that expression?

PHOR. When you are in doubt which in especial to partake of. When you

enter upon a consideration how delicious these things are, and how

costly they are, the person who provides them, must you not account

him a very God-- neither more nor less?

GETA. The old man is coming; take care what you are about; the first

onset is the fiercest; if you stand that, then, afterward, you may

play just as you please. (_They retire to a distance._)

SCENE II.

_Enter, at a distance, DEMIPHO, HEGIO, CRATINUS, and CRITO,

following him._

DEM. Well now-- did you ever hear of an injury being done to any

person in a more affronting manner than this has to me? Assist me,

I do beg of you.

GETA (_apart._) He’s in a passion.

PHOR. (_apart._) Do you mind your cue; I’ll rouse him just now.

(_Stepping forward and crying aloud._) Oh immortal Gods! does Demipho

deny that Phanium here is related to him?

GETA. He does deny it.

DEM. (_to his friends._) I believe it is the very man I was speaking

about. Follow me. (_They all come forward._)

PHOR. (_to GETA._) And that he knows who her father was?

GETA. He does deny it.

PHOR. And that he knows who Stilpho was?

GETA. He does deny it.

PHOR. Because the poor thing was left destitute, her father is

disowned; she herself is slighted: see what avarice does.

GETA (_in a loud voice._) If you are going to accuse my master of

avarice, you shall hear what you won’t like.

DEM. Oh, the impudence {of the fellow}! Does he come on purpose to

accuse me?

PHOR. For really, I have no reason why I should be offended at the

young man, if he did not know him; since that person, when growing

aged {and} poor, and supporting himself by his labor, generally

confined himself to the country; there he had a piece of land from my

father to cultivate; full oft, in the mean time, did the old man tell

me that this kinsman of his neglected him: but what a man? The very

best I {ever} saw in {all} my life.

GETA (_in a loud voice._) Look to yourself as well as to him, how you

speak.

PHOR. (_with affected indignation._) Away, to utter perdition, {with

you}. For if I had not formed such an opinion of him, I should never

have incurred such enmity with your family on her account, whom he now

slights in such an ungenerous manner.

GETA (_aloud._) What, do you persist in speaking abusively of my

master in his absence, you most abominable fellow?

PHOR. Why, it’s {just} what he deserves.

GETA (_aloud._) Say you so, you jail-bird?

DEM. (_calling aloud._) Geta!

GETA (_aloud._) A plunderer of people’s property-- a perverter of the

laws!

DEM. (_calling aloud._) Geta!

PHOR. (_apart, in a low voice._) Answer him.

GETA. Who is it? (_Looking round._) Oh!----

DEM. Hold your peace.

GETA. He has never left off uttering abuse against you behind your

back, unworthy of you, and {just} befitting himself.

DEM. Well now, have done. (_Addressing PHORMIO._) Young man, in the

first place, with your good leave, I ask you this, if you may possibly

be pleased to give me an answer: explain to me who this friend of

yours was, that you speak of, and how he said that he was related to

me.

PHOR. (_sneeringly._) You are fishing it out, just as if you didn’t

know.

DEM. I, know?

PHOR. Yes.

DEM. I say I do not; you, who affirm it, recall it to my recollection.

PHOR. Come now, didn’t you know your own cousin-german?

DEM. You torture me to death; tell me his name.

PHOR. His name?

DEM. Of course. (_PHORMIO hesitates._) Why are you silent now?

PHOR. (_aside._) Heavens, I’m undone; I’ve forgot the name.

DEM. Well, what do you say?

PHOR. (_aside, to GETA._) Geta, if you recollect the {name} I told you

a short time since, prompt me. (_Aloud, to DEMIPHO._) Well then,

I sha’n’t tell you; as if you didn’t know, you come to pump me.

DEM. I, come to pump you, indeed?

GETA. (_whispering to PHORMIO._) Stilpho.

PHOR. But, after all, what matters that to me? It is Stilpho.

DEM. Whom did you say?

PHOR. Stilpho, I tell you; you knew him.

DEM. I neither know him, nor had I ever any relation of that name.

PHOR. Say you so? Are you not ashamed of this? But if he had left you

ten talents----

DEM. May the Gods confound you!

PHOR. You’d have been the first, from memory, to trace your line of

kindred, even as far back as from grandfather and great-grandfather.

DEM. Very likely what you say. In that case, when I had undertaken it,

I should have shown how she was related to me; do you do the same:

tell me, how is she related to me?

GETA. Well done, my {master}, that’s right! (_Threateningly to

PHORMIO._) Hark you, take you care.

PHOR. I’ve already made the matter quite plain where I ought, before

the judges; besides, if it was untrue, why didn’t your son disprove

it?

DEM. Do you talk about my son to me? Of whose folly there is no

speaking in the language it deserves.

PHOR. Then do you, who are so wise, go to the magistrates, that for

you they may give a second decision in the same cause, since you reign

alone[54] {here}, and are the only man allowed to get a second trial

in the same cause.

DEM. Although wrong has been done me, still, however, rather than

engage in litigation, or listen to you, just as though she had been my

relation, {as} the law orders one to find her a portion, rid me of

her, {and} take five minæ.

PHOR. (_laughing._) Ha, ha, ha! a pleasant individual!

DEM. Well! am I asking any thing unfair? Or am I not to obtain even

this, which is my right at common law?

PHOR. Pray, really is it so, that when you have abused her like a

courtesan, the law orders you to pay her hire and pack her off? Or {is

it} the fact, that in order that a citizen may bring no disgrace upon

herself through poverty, she has been ordered to be given to her

nearest relative, to pass her life with him alone? {A thing} which you

mean to prevent.

DEM. Yes, to her nearest relative, indeed; but why to us, or on what

ground?

PHOR. Well, well, a thing tried, they say, you can’t try over {again}.

DEM. Not try it? On the contrary, I shall not desist until I have gone

through with it.

PHOR. You are trifling.

DEM. Only let me alone {for that}.

PHOR. In short, Demipho, I have nothing to do with you; your son has

been cast, {and} not you; for your time of life for marrying has now

gone by.

DEM. Consider that it is he that says to you all I now say, or else

assuredly, together with this wife {of his}, I’ll be forbidding him

the house.

GETA (_aside._) He’s in a passion.

PHOR. You’ll be acting more considerately.

DEM. Are you so resolved, you unlucky fellow, to do me all the

mischief you can?

PHOR. (_aside, to GETA._) He’s afraid of us, although he’s so careful

to conceal it.

GETA (_aside, to PHORMIO._) Your beginning has turned out well.

PHOR. But if, on the contrary, you endure what must be endured, you’ll

be doing what’s worthy of you, so that we may be on friendly terms.

DEM. (_indignantly._) What, I seek your friendship, or have any wish

to see or hear you?

PHOR. If you can agree with her, you will have some one to cheer up

your old age; {just} consider your time of life.

DEM. Let her cheer up yourself; keep her to yourself.

PHOR. Really, do moderate your passion.

DEM. Mark what I say. There have been words enough already; if you

don’t make haste to fetch away the woman, I shall turn her out: I have

said it, Phormio.

PHOR. If you use her in any other manner than is befitting a free-born

woman, I shall be bringing a swinging action against you: I have said

it, Demipho. (_To GETA._) Hark you, if there should be any occasion

for me, I shall be at home.

GETA (_apart._) I understand you. (_Exit PHORMIO._

SCENE III.

_DEMIPHO, HEGIO, CRATINUS, CRITO, and GETA._

DEM. What care and anxiety my son does bring upon me, by entangling

himself and me in this same marriage! And he doesn’t {so much as} come

into my sight, that at least I might know what he says about this

matter, or what his sentiments are. (_To GETA._) Be off, go see

whether he has returned home or not by this.

GETA. I will. (_Goes into the house._)

DEM. (_to the ASSISTANTS._) You see how the case stands. What am I to

do? Tell {me}, Hegio.

HEG. What, I? I think Cratinus {ought}, if it seems good to you.

DEM. Tell {me}, Cratinus.

CRAT. What, do you wish me to speak? I should like you to do what is

most for your advantage; it is my opinion, that what this son of yours

has done in your absence, in law and justice ought to be annulled; and

that you’ll obtain redress. That’s my opinion.

DEM. Say now, Hegio.

HEG. I believe that he has spoken with due deliberation; but it is the

fact, “as many men, so many minds;”[55] every one his own way. It

doesn’t appear to me that what has been done by law can be revoked;

and it is wrong to attempt it.

DEM. Speak, Crito.

CRIT. I am of opinion that we must deliberate further;[56] it is a

matter of importance.

HEG. Do you want any thing further with us?

DEM. You have done very well. (_Exeunt ASSISTANTS._) I am much more at

a loss[57] than before.

_Re-enter GETA, from the house._

GETA. They say that he has not come back.

DEM. I must wait for my brother. The advice that he gives me about

this matter, I shall follow. I’ll go make inquiry at the harbor, when

he is to come back. (_Exit._

GETA. And I’ll go look for Antipho, that he may learn what has passed

here. But look, I see him coming this way, just in the very nick of

time.

SCENE IV.

_Enter ANTIPHO, at a distance._

ANT. (_to himself._) Indeed, Antipho, in many ways you are to be

blamed for these feelings; to have thus run away, and intrusted your

existence to the protection of other people. Did you suppose that

others would give more attention to your interests than your own self?

For, however other matters stood, certainly you should have thought of

her whom you have now at home, that she might not suffer any harm in

consequence of her confiding in you, whose hopes and resources, poor

thing, are all now centred in yourself alone.

GETA (_coming forward._) Why really, master, we have for some time

been censuring you here in your absence, for having {thus} gone away.

ANT. You are the very person I was looking for.

GETA. But still, we were not a bit the more remiss on that account.

ANT. Tell me, I beg of you, in what posture are my interests and

fortunes. Has my father any suspicion?

GETA. Not any at present.

ANT. Is there still any hope?

GETA. I don’t know.

ANT. Alas!

GETA. But Phædria has not neglected to use his endeavors in your

behalf.

ANT. He did nothing new.

GETA. Then Phormio, too, in this matter, just as in every thing else,

showed himself a man of energy.

ANT. What did he do?

GETA. With his words he silenced the old man, who was very angry.

ANT. Well done, Phormio!

GETA. I, too, {did} all I could.

ANT. My {dear} Geta, I love you all.

GETA. The commencement is just in this position, as I tell you:

matters, at present, are going on smoothly, and your father intends to

wait for your uncle till he arrives.

ANT. Why him?

GETA. He said he was wishful to act by his advice, in all that relates

to this business.

ANT. How greatly now, Geta, I do dread my uncle’s safe arrival! For,

according to his single sentence, from what I hear, I am to live or

die.

GETA. Here comes Phædria.

ANT. Where is he, pray?

GETA. See, he’s coming from his place of exercise.[58]

SCENE V.

_Enter from DORIO’S house, DORIO, followed by PHÆDRIA._

PHÆD. Prithee, hear me, Dorio.

DOR. I’ll not hear you.

PHÆD. Only a moment.

DOR. Let me alone.

PHÆD. Do hear what I have to say.

DOR. Why really I am tired of hearing the same thing a thousand times

over.

PHÆD. But now, I have something to tell you that you’ll hear with

pleasure.

DOR. Speak {then}; I’m listening.

PHÆD. Can I not prevail on you to wait for only three days? Whither

are you going now?

DOR. I was wondering if you had any thing new to offer.

ANT. (_apart, to GETA._) I’m afraid for this Procurer, lest----

GETA (_apart, to ANTIPHO._) Something may befall his own safety.[59]

PHÆD. You don’t believe me?

DOR. You guess right.

PHÆD. But if I pledge my word.

DOR. Nonsense!

PHÆD. You will have reason to say that this kindness was well laid out

by you on interest.

DOR. Stuff!

PHÆD. Believe me, you will be glad you did so; upon my faith, it is

the truth.

DOR. {Mere} dreams!

PHÆD. Do but try; the time is not long.

DOR. The same story over again.

PHÆD. You {will be} my kinsman, my father, my friend; you----

DOR. Now, do prate on.

PHÆD. For you to be of a disposition so harsh and inexorable, that

neither by pity nor by entreaties can you be softened!

DOR. For you to be of a disposition so unreasonable and so

unconscionable, Phædria, that you can be talking me over with fine

words,[60] and be for amusing yourself with what’s my property for

nothing!

ANT. (_apart, to GETA._) I am sorry for him.

PHÆD. (_aside._) Alas! I feel it to be too true.

GETA (_apart, to ANTIPHO._) How well each keeps up to his character!

PHÆD. (_to himself._) And would that this misfortune had not befallen

me at a time when Antipho was occupied with other cares as well.

ANT. (_coming forward._) Ah Phædria, why, what is the matter?

PHÆD. O most fortunate Antipho!

ANT. What, I?

PHÆD. To have in your possession the object of your love, and have no

occasion to encounter such a nuisance as this.

ANT. What I, in my possession? Why yes, as the saying is, I’ve got a

wolf by the ears;[61] for I neither know how to get rid of her, nor

yet how to keep her.

DOR. That’s just my case with regard to him (_pointing to PHÆDRIA_).

ANT. (_to DORIO._) Aye, aye, don’t you show too little of the

Procurer. (_To PHÆDRIA._) What has he been doing?

PHÆD. What, he? Acting the part of a most inhuman fellow; been and

sold my Pamphila.

GETA. What! Sold her?

ANT. Sold her, say you?

PHÆD. Sold her.

DOR. (_ironically._) What a shocking crime-- a wench bought with one’s

own money!

PHÆD. I can not prevail upon him to wait for me the next three days,

and {so far} break off the bargain with the person, while I get the

money from my friends, which has been promised {me}; if I don’t give

it him then, let him not wait a single hour longer.

DOR. Very good.

ANT. It’s not a long time that he asks, Dorio; do let him prevail upon

you; he’ll pay you two-fold for having acted to him thus obligingly.

DOR. {Mere} words!

ANT. Will you allow Pamphila to be carried away from this place? {And}

then, besides, can you possibly allow their love to be severed

asunder?

DOR. Neither I nor you {cause that}.

GETA. May all the Gods grant you what you are deserving of!

DOR. I have borne with you for several months quite against my

inclination; promising {and} whimpering, and {yet} bringing nothing;

now, on the other hand, I have found one to pay, and not be sniveling;

give place to your betters.

ANT. I’ faith, there surely was a day named, if I remember right, for

you to pay him.

PHÆD. {It} is the fact.

DOR. Do I deny it?

ANT. Is that {day} past, then?

DOR. No; but this one has come before it.

ANT. Are you not ashamed of your perfidy?

DOR. Not at all, so long as it is for my interest.

GETA. Dunghill!

PHÆD. Dorio, is it right, pray, for you to act thus?

DOR. It is my way; if I suit you, make use of me.

ANT. Do you try to trifle with him (_pointing to PHÆDRIA_) in this

manner?

DOR. Why really, on the contrary, Antipho, it’s he trifling with me,

for he knew me to be a person of this sort; I supposed him to be quite

a different man; he has deceived me; I’m not a bit different to him

from what I was {before}. But however that may be, I’ll yet do this;

the captain has said, that to-morrow morning he will pay me the money;

if you bring it me before that, Phædria, I’ll follow my rule, that he

is the first served who is the first to pay. Farewell! (_Goes into his

house._)

SCENE VI.

_PHÆDRIA, ANTIPHO, and GETA._

PHÆD. What am I to do? Wretch that I am! where am I now in this

emergency to raise the money for him, {I}, who am worse than nothing?

If it had been possible for these three days to be obtained of him, it

was promised me {by then}.

ANT. Geta, shall we suffer him to continue thus wretched, when he so

lately assisted me in the kind way you were mentioning? On the

contrary, why not, as there’s need of it, try to do him a kindness in

return?

GETA. For my part, I’m sure it is {but} fair.

ANT. Come then, you are the only man able to serve him.

GETA. What can I do?

ANT. Procure the money.

GETA. I wish I could; but where {it is to come} from-- tell me that.

ANT. My father has come home.

GETA. I know; but what of that?

ANT. Oh, a word to the wise[62] is quite enough.

GETA. Is that it, then?

ANT. Just so.

GETA. Upon my faith, you really do give me fine advice; out upon you!

Ought I not to be heartily glad, if I meet with no mishap through your

marriage, but what, in addition to that, you must now bid me, for his

sake, to be seeking risk upon risk?

ANT. ’Tis true what he says.

PHÆD. What! am I a stranger to you, Geta?

GETA. I don’t consider {you so}. But is it so trifling a matter that

the old gentleman is now vexed with us all, that we must provoke him

still more, and leave no room for entreaty?

PHÆD. Is another man to take her away from before my eyes to some

unknown spot? Alas! speak to me then, Antipho, and look upon me while

you have the opportunity, and while I’m present.

ANT. Why so, or what are you going to do? Pray, tell me.

PHÆD. To whatever part of the world she is borne away, I’m determined

to follow her or to perish.

GETA. May the Gods prosper your design! Cautiously’s {the word},

however.

ANT. (_to GETA._) Do see if you can give him any assistance at all.

GETA. Any at all-- how?

ANT. Pray, do try, that he mayn’t be doing something that we may

afterward be more or less sorry for, Geta.

GETA. I’m considering. (_He pauses._) He’s all safe, so far as I can

guess: but still, I’m afraid of mischief.

ANT. Don’t be afraid: together with you, we’ll share good {and} bad.

GETA. (_to PHÆDRIA._) How much money do you want? Tell me.

PHÆD. Only thirty minæ.

GETA. Thirty? Heyday! she’s monstrous dear, Phædria.

PHÆD. Indeed, she’s very cheap.

GETA. Well, well, I’ll get them for you.

PHÆD. Oh the dear man! (_They both fall to hugging GETA._)

GETA. Take yourselves off. (_Shakes them off._)

PHÆD. There’s need for them directly.

GETA. You shall have them directly; but I must have Phormio for my

assistant in this business.

ANT. He’s quite ready; right boldly lay on him any load you like,

he’ll bear it: he, in especial, is a friend to his friend.

GETA. Let’s go to him at once then.

ANT. Will you have any occasion for my assistance?

GETA. None; but be off home, and comfort that poor thing, who I am

sure is now in-doors almost dead with fear. Do you linger?

ANT. There’s nothing I could do with so much pleasure. (_Goes into the

house of DEMIPHO._)

PHÆD. What way will you manage this?

GETA. I’ll tell you on the road; first thing, betake yourself off.

(_Exeunt_

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

_Enter DEMIPHO and CHREMES._

DEM. Well, have you brought your daughter with you, Chremes, for whom

you went to Lemnos?

CHREM. No.

DEM. Why not?

CHREM. When her mother found that I staid here longer than usual, and

at the same time the age of the girl did not suit with my delays, they

told me that she, with all her family, set out in search of me.

DEM. Pray, then, why did you stay there so long, when you had heard of

this?

CHREM. Why, faith, a malady detained me.

DEM. From what cause? Or what {was it}?

CHREM. Do you ask me? Old age itself is a malady. However, I heard

that they had arrived safe, from the captain who brought them.

DEM. Have you heard, Chremes, what has happened to my son in my

absence?

CHREM. ’Tis that, in fact, that has embarrassed me in my plans. For if

I offer my daughter in marriage to any person that’s a stranger, it

must all be told how and by whom I had her. You I knew to be fully as

faithful to me as I am to myself; if a stranger shall think fit to be

connected with me by marriage, he will hold his tongue, just as long

as good terms exist between us: but if he takes a dislike to me, he’ll

be knowing more than it’s proper he should know. I am afraid, too,

lest my wife should, by some means, come to know of it; if that is the

case, it {only} remains for me to shake myself[63] and leave the

house; for I’m the only one I can rely on at home.[64]

DEM. I know it is so, and that circumstance is a cause of anxiety to

me; and I shall never cease trying, until I’ve made good what I

promised you.

SCENE II.

_Enter GETA, on the other side of the stage, not seeing DEMIPHO or

CHREMES._

GETA. (_to himself._) I never saw a more cunning fellow than this

Phormio. I came to the fellow to tell him that money was needed, and

by what means it might be procured. Hardly had I said one half, when

he understood me; he was quite delighted; complimented me; asked where

the old man was; gave thanks to the Gods that an opportunity was

afforded him for showing himself no less a friend to Phædria than to

Antipho: I bade the fellow wait for me at the Forum; whither I would

bring the old gentleman. But see, here’s the very man (_catching sight

of the Old Man_). Who is the further one? Heyday, Phædria’s father has

got back! still, brute beast that I am, what was I afraid of? Is it

because two are presented instead of one for me to dupe? I deem it

preferable to enjoy a two-fold hope. I’ll try for it from him from

whom I first intended: if he gives it me, well and good; if I can make

nothing of him, then I’ll attack this new-comer.

SCENE III.

_Enter ANTIPHO from the house, behind at a distance._

ANT. (_to himself._) I’m expecting every moment that Geta will be

here. But I see my uncle standing close by, with my father. Ah me! how

much I fear what influence his return may have upon my father!

GETA. (_to himself._) I’ll accost them. (_Goes up to them._) O welcome

to you, our {neighbor} Chremes.

CHREM. Save you, Geta.

GETA. I’m delighted to see you safe returned.

CHREM. I believe you.

GETA. How go matters?

CHREM. Many changes here upon my arrival, as usually the case.

GETA. True; have you heard what has happened to Antipho?

CHREM. All.

GETA. (_to DEMIPHO._) What, have you told him? Disgraceful conduct,

Chremes, thus to be imposed on.

DEM. It was about that I was talking to him just now.

GETA. But really, on carefully reflecting upon this matter I think I

have found a remedy.

DEM. What {is} the remedy?

GETA. When I left you, by accident Phormio met me.

CHREM. Who {is} Phormio?

GETA. He who {patronized} her.

CHREM. I understand.

GETA. It seemed to me that I might first sound him; I took the fellow

aside: “Phormio,” said I, “why don’t we try to settle these matters

between us rather with a good grace than with a bad one? {My} master’s

a generous {man}, and one who hates litigation; but really, upon my

faith, all his friends were just now advising him with one voice to

turn her instantly out of doors.”

ANT. (_apart._) What is he about? Or where is this to end at last?

GETA (_continuing the supposed conversation._) “He’ll have to give

satisfaction at law, you say, if he turns her out? That has been

already inquired into: aye, aye, you’ll have enough to do, if you

engage with him; he is so eloquent. But suppose he’s beaten; still,

however, it’s not his life, but his money that’s at stake.” After I

found that the fellow was influenced by these words, I said: “We are

now by ourselves here; come now, what should you like to be given you,

money down, to drop this suit with my master, so that she may betake

herself off, {and} you annoy us no more?”

ANT. (_apart._) Are the Gods quite on good terms with him?[65]

GETA (_continuing the conversation._) “For I’m quite sure, if you were

to mention any thing that’s fair and reasonable, as he is a reasonable

man, you’ll not have to bandy three words with him.”

DEM. Who ordered you to say so?

CHREM. Nay, he could not have more happily contrived to bring about

what we want.

ANT. (_apart._) Undone!

CHREM. Go on with your story.

GETA. At first the fellow raved.

DEM. Say, what did he ask?

GETA. What? A great deal too much.

CHREM. How much? Tell me.

GETA. Suppose he were to give a great talent.

DEM. Aye, faith, perdition {to him rather}; has he no shame?

GETA. Just what I said to him: “Pray,” {said I}, “suppose he was

portioning an only daughter of his own. It has been of little benefit

that he hasn’t one of his own, when another has been found to be

demanding a fortune.” To be brief, and to pass over his impertinences,

this at last was his final answer: “I,” said he, “from the very first,

have been desirous to marry the daughter of my friend, as was fit I

should; for I was aware of the ill results of this, a poor wife being

married into a rich family, and becoming a slave. But, as I am now

conversing with you unreservedly, I was in want of {a wife} to bring

me a little money with which to pay off my debts; and even yet, if

Demipho is willing to give as much as I am to receive with her to whom

I am engaged, there is no one whom I should better like for a wife.”

ANT. (_apart._) Whether to say he’s doing this through folly or

mischief, through stupidity or design, I’m in doubt.

DEM. What if he’s in debt to the amount of his life?[66]

GETA. His land is mortgaged,-- for ten minæ he said.

DEM. Well, well, let him take her then; I’ll give it.

GETA. He has a house besides, {mortgaged} for another ten.

DEM. Huy, huy! that’s too much.

CHREM. Don’t be crying out; you may have those ten of me.

GETA. A lady’s maid must be brought for his wife; and then too,

a little more is wanted for some furniture, {and} some is wanted for

the wedding expenses. “Well then,” said he, “for these items, put down

ten more.”

DEM. Then let him at once bring six hundred actions[67] against me;

I shall give nothing at all; is this dirty fellow to be laughing at me

as well?

CHREM. Pray do be quiet; I’ll give it: do you only bring your son to

marry the woman we want him {to have}.

ANT. (_apart._) Ah me! Geta, you have ruined me by your treachery.

CHREM. ’Tis on my account she’s turned off; it’s right that I should

bear the loss.

GETA. “Take care and let me know,” said he, “as soon as possible, if

they are going to let me have her, that I may get rid of the other, so

that I mayn’t be in doubt; for the others have agreed to pay me down

the portion directly.”

CHREM. Let him have her at once; let him give notice to them that he

breaks off the match {with the other, and} let him marry this woman.

DEM. Yes, {and} little joy to him of the bargain!

CHREM. Luckily, too, I’ve now brought {home} some money with me, the

rents which my wife’s farms at Lemnos produce. I’ll take it out of

that, {and} tell my wife that you had occasion for it. (_They go into

the house of CHREMES._)

SCENE IV.

_ANTIPHO and GETA._

ANT. (_coming forward._) Geta.

GETA. Well.

ANT. What have you been doing?

GETA. Diddling the old fellows out of their money.

ANT. Is that quite the thing?

GETA. I’ faith, I don’t know: it’s just what I was told {to do}.

ANT. How now, whip-scoundrel, do you give me an answer to what I don’t

ask you? (_Kicks him._)

GETA. What was it then that you did ask?

ANT. What was it I did ask? Through your agency, matters have most

undoubtedly come to the pass that I may go hang myself. May then all

the Gods, Goddesses, Deities above {and} below, with every evil

confound you! Look now, if you wish any thing to succeed, intrust it

to him who may bring you from smooth water on to a rock. What was

there less advantageous than to touch upon this sore, or to name my

wife? Hopes have been excited in my father that she may possibly be

got rid of. Pray now, tell me, suppose Phormio receives the portion,

she must be taken home {by him} as his wife: what’s to become of me?

GETA. But he’s not going to marry her.

ANT. I know that. But (_ironically_) when they demand the money back,

of course, for our sake, he’ll prefer going to prison.

GETA. There is nothing, Antipho, but what it may be made worse by

being badly told: you leave out what is good, {and} you mention the

bad. Now then, hear the other side: if he receives the money, she must

be taken as his wife, you say; I grant you; still, some time at least

will be allowed for preparing for the nuptials, for inviting, {and}

for sacrificing. In the mean time, {Phædria’s} friends will advance

what they have promised; out of that he will repay it.

ANT. On what grounds? Or what will he say?

GETA. Do you ask the question? “How many circumstances, since then,

have befallen me as prodigies? A strange black dog[68] entered the

house; a snake came down from the tiles through the sky-light;[69]

a hen crowed;[70] the soothsayer forbade it; the diviner[71] warned me

not: besides, before winter there is no sufficient reason for me to

commence upon any new undertaking.” This will be the case.

ANT. I only wish it may be the case.

GETA. It shall be the case; trust me for that. Your father’s coming

out; go tell Phædria that the money is found.

SCENE V.

_Enter DEMIPHO and CHREMES, from the house of the latter, the former

with a purse of money._

DEM. Do be quiet, I tell you; I’ll take care he shall not be playing

any tricks {upon us}. I’ll not rashly part with this without having my

witnesses; I’ll have it stated to whom I pay it, {and} for what

purpose I pay it.

GETA. (_apart._) How cautious he is, when there’s no need for it!

CHREM. Why yes, you had need do so, and with all haste, while the fit

is upon him; for if this other woman shall prove more pressing,

perhaps he may throw us over.

GETA. You’ve hit upon the very thing.

DEM. Lead me to him then.

GETA. I won’t delay.

CHREM. (_to DEMIPHO._) When you’ve done so, go over to my wife, that

she may call upon her before she goes away. She must tell her that we

are going to give her in marriage to Phormio, that she may not be

angry with us; and that he is a fitter match for her, as knowing more

of her; that we have in no way departed from our duty; that as much

has been given for a portion as he asked for.

DEM. What the plague does that matter to you?

CHREM. A great deal, Demipho. It is not enough for you to do your

duty, if common report does not approve of it; I wish {all} this to be

done with her own sanction as well, that she mayn’t be saying that she

has been turned out of doors.

DEM. I can do {all} that myself.

CHREM. It will come better from one woman to another.

DEM. I’ll ask her. (_Goes into the house of CHREMES; and exit GETA._)

CHREM. (_to himself._) I’m thinking where I can find them now.[72]

SCENE VI.

_Enter SOPHRONA from the house of DEMIPHO, at a distance._

SOPH. (_to herself._) What am I to do? What friend, in my distress,

shall I find, to whom to disclose these plans; and where shall I look

for relief? For I’m afraid that my mistress, in consequence of my

advice, may undeservingly sustain some injury, so extremely ill do I

hear that the young man’s father takes what has happened.

CHREM. (_apart, to himself._) But what old woman’s this, that has come

out of my brother’s house, half dead with fright?

SOPH. (_to herself, continuing._) It was distress that compelled me to

this step, though I knew that the match was not likely to hold good;

my object was, that in the mean time life might be supported.

CHREM. (_apart, to himself._) Upon my faith, surely, unless my

recollection deceives me, or my sight’s not very good, I espy my

daughter’s nurse.[73]

SOPH. (_to herself._) And we are not able to find----

CHREM. (_apart._) What must I do?

SOPH. (_to herself._) Her father.

CHREM. (_to himself, apart._) Shall I accost her, or shall I wait to

learn more distinctly what it is she’s saying?

SOPH. (_to herself._) If now I could find him, there’s nothing that I

should be in fear of.

CHREM. (_apart, to himself, aloud._) ’Tis the very woman. I’ll address

her.

SOPH. (_turning round._) Who’s that speaking here?

CHREM. (_coming forward._) Sophrona.

SOPH. Mentioning my name, too?

CHREM. Look round at me.

SOPH. (_seeing him._) Ye Gods, I do beseech you, isn’t this Stilpho?

CHREM. No.

SOPH. Do you deny it?

CHREM. (_in a low voice._) Step a little this way from that door,

Sophrona, if you please (_pointing_). Don’t you, henceforth, be

calling me by that name.

SOPH. Why? Pray, are you not the person you always used to say you

were?

CHREM. Hush! (_pointing to his own house._)

SOPH. Why are you afraid about that door?

CHREM. (_in a low voice._) I have got a shrew of a wife shut up there.

For by that name I formerly falsely called myself, in order that you

might not chance indiscreetly to blab it out of doors, and then my

wife, by some means or other, might come to know of it.

SOPH. I’ faith, that’s the very reason why we, wretched creatures,

have never been able to find you out here.

CHREM. Well, but tell me, what business have you with that family from

whose house you were coming out? Where are the ladies?[74]

SOPH. Ah, wretched me!

CHREM. Hah! What’s the matter? Are they still alive?

SOPH. Your daughter is alive. Her poor mother died of grief.

CHREM. An unfortunate thing!

SOPH. As for me, being a lone old woman, in want, {and} unknown,

I contrived, as well as I could, to get the young woman married to the

young man who is master of this house (_pointing_).

CHREM. What! to Antipho?

SOPH. The very same, I say.

CHREM. What? {Has} he {got} two wives?

SOPH. Dear no, prithee, he has only got this one.

CHREM. What about the other one that’s called his relative?

SOPH. Why, this is she.

CHREM. What is it you say?

SOPH. It was done on purpose, in order that her lover might be enabled

to marry her without a portion.

CHREM. Ye Gods, by our trust in you! How often do those things come

about through accident, which you couldn’t dare to hope for? On my

return, I have found my daughter matched with the very person I

wished, and just as I wanted; a thing that we were both using our

endeavors, with the greatest earnestness, to bring about. Without any

very great management on our part, by her own management, she has by

herself brought this about.

SOPH. Now consider what’s to be done. The young man’s father has

returned, and they say that he bears this with feelings highly

offended.

CHREM. There’s no danger {of that}. But, by Gods and men, do take care

that no one comes to know that she’s my daughter.

SOPH. No one shall know {it} from me.

CHREM. Follow me; in-doors we’ll hear the rest. (_He goes into

DEMIPHO’S house, followed by SOPHRONA._)

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

_Enter DEMIPHO and GETA._

DEM. ’Tis caused by our own fault, that it is advantageous to be

dishonest; while we wish ourselves to be styled very honest and

generous. “So run away as {not to run} beyond the house,”[75] as the

saying is. Was it not enough to receive an injury from him, but money

must be voluntarily offered him as well, that he may have something on

which to subsist while he plans some other {piece} of roguery?

GETA. Most clearly so.

DEM. They now get rewarded for it, who confound right with wrong.

GETA. Most undoubtedly.

DEM. How very foolishly, in fact, we have managed the affair with him!

GETA. If by these means we can only manage for him to marry her.

DEM. Is that, then, a matter of doubt?

GETA. I’ faith, judging from what the fellow is, I don’t know whether

he mightn’t change his mind.

DEM. How! change it indeed?

GETA. I don’t know: but “if perhaps,” I say.

DEM. I’ll do as my brother advised me, bring hither his wife, to talk

with her. Do you, Geta, go before; tell her that Nausistrata is about

to visit her. (_DEMIPHO goes into the house of CHREMES._)

SCENE II.

_GETA, alone._

GETA. The money’s been got for Phædria; it’s all hushed about the

lawsuit; due care has been taken that she’s not to leave for the

present. What next, then? What’s to be done? You are still sticking in

the mud. You are paying by borrowing;[76] the evil that was at hand,

has been put off for a day. The toils are increasing upon you, if you

don’t look out. Now I’ll away home, and tell Phanium not to be afraid

of Nausistrata, or his talking.[77] (_Goes into the house of

DEMIPHO._)

SCENE III.

_Enter DEMIPHO and NAUSISTRATA, from the house of CHREMES._

DEM. Come now, Nausistrata, after your usual way, manage to keep her

in good-humor with us, {and} make her do of her own accord what must

be done.

NAUS. I will.

DEM. You are now seconding me with your endeavors, just as you

assisted me with your money[78] before.

NAUS. I wish to do so; and yet, i’ faith, through the fault of my

husband, I am less able than I ought to be.

DEM. Why so?

NAUS. Because, i’ faith, he takes such indifferent care of the

property that was so industriously acquired by my father; for from

those farms he used regularly to receive two talents of silver

{yearly}; there’s an instance, how superior one man is to another.

DEM. Two {talents}, pray?

NAUS. {Aye}, and when things were much worse, two talents even.

DEM. Whew!

NAUS. What! does this seem surprising?

DEM. Of course it does.

NAUS. I wish I had been born a man; I’d have shown----

DEM. That I’m quite sure of.

NAUS. In what way----

DEM. Forbear, pray, that you may be able {to do battle} with her; lest

she, {being} a young woman, may be more than a match for you.

NAUS. I’ll do as you bid me; but I see my husband coming out of your

house.

SCENE IV.

_Enter CHREMES, hastily, from DEMIPHO’S house._

CHREM. Ha! Demipho, has the money been paid him yet?

DEM. I took care immediately.

CHREM. I wish it hadn’t been paid him. (_On seeing NAUSISTRATA,

aside._) Halloo, I espy my wife; I had almost said more than I ought.

DEM. Why do you wish I hadn’t, Chremes?

CHREM. It’s all right.

DEM. What {say} you? Have you been letting her know why we are going

to bring her? (_pointing to NAUSISTRATA._)

CHREM. I’ve arranged it.

DEM. Pray, what does she say?

CHREM. She can’t be got to leave.

DEM. Why can’t she?

CHREM. Because they are fond of one another.

DEM. What’s that to us?

CHREM. (_apart, to DEMIPHO._) A great deal; besides that, I’ve found

out that she is related to us.

DEM. (_apart._) What! You are mad, {surely}.

CHREM. (_apart._) So you will find; I don’t speak at random; I’ve

recovered my recollection.

DEM. (_apart._) Are you quite in your senses?

CHREM. (_apart._) Nay, prithee, do take care not to injure your

kinswoman.

DEM. (_apart._) She is not.

CHREM. (_apart._) Don’t deny it; her father went by another name; that

was the cause of your mistake.

DEM. (_apart._) Did she not know who was her father?

CHREM. (_apart._) She did.

DEM. (_apart._) Why did she call him by another {name}?

CHREM. (_apart, frowning._) Will you never yield to me, nor understand

{what I mean}?

DEM. (_apart._) If you don’t tell me of any thing----

CHREM. (_impatiently._) Do you persist?

NAUS. I wonder what {all} this can be.

DEM. For my part, upon my faith, I don’t know.

CHREM. (_whispering to him._) Would you like to know? Then, so may

Jupiter preserve me, not a person is there more nearly related to her

than are you and I.

DEM. (_starting._) Ye Gods, by our trust in you! let’s away to her;

I wish for all of us, one way or other, to be sure about this

(_going_).

CHREM. (_stopping him._) Ah!

DEM. What’s the matter?

CHREM. That you should put so little confidence in me!

DEM. Do you wish me to believe you? Do you wish me to consider this as

quite certain? Very well, be it so. Well, what’s to be done with our

friend’s[79] daughter?

CHREM. She’ll do well enough.

DEM. Are we to drop her, then?

CHREM. Why not?

DEM. The other one to stop?

CHREM. Just so.

DEM. You may go then, Nausistrata.

NAUS. I’ faith, I think it better for all that she should remain here

as it is, than as you {first} intended; for she seemed to me a very

genteel person when I saw her. (_Goes into her house._)

SCENE V.

_DEMIPHO and CHREMES._

DEM. What is the meaning of all this?

CHREM. (_looking at the door of his house._) Has she shut the door

yet?

DEM. Now {she has}.

CHREM. O Jupiter! the Gods do befriend us; I have found that it is my

daughter married to your son.

DEM. Ha! How can that possibly be?

CHREM. This spot is not exactly suited for me to tell it {you}.

DEM. Well then, step in-doors.

CHREM. Hark you, I don’t wish our sons even to come to know of this.

(_They go into DEMIPHO’S house._)

SCENE VI.

_Enter ANTIPHO._

ANT. I’m glad that, however my own affairs go, my brother has

succeeded in his wishes. How wise it is to cherish desires of that

nature in the mind, that when things run counter, you may easily find

a cure {for them}! He has both got the money, {and} released himself

from care; I, by no method, can extricate myself from these troubles;

on the contrary, if the matter is concealed, {I am} in dread-- but if

disclosed, in disgrace. Neither should I now go home, were not a hope

{still} presented me of retaining her. But where, I wonder, can I find

Geta, that I may ask him what opportunity he would recommend me to

take for meeting my father?

SCENE VII.

_Enter PHORMIO, at a distance._

PHOR. (_to himself._) I received the money; handed it over to the

Procurer; brought away the woman, that Phædria might have her as his

own-- for she has {now} become free. Now there is one thing still

remaining for me to manage,-- to get a respite from the old gentlemen

for carousing; for I’ll enjoy myself the {next} few days.

ANT. But {here’s} Phormio. (_Going up to him._) What have you to say?

PHOR. About what?

ANT. Why-- what’s Phædria going to do now? In what way does he say

that he intends to take his fill of love?

PHOR. In his turn, he’s going to act your part.

ANT. What {part}?

PHOR. To run away from his father; he begs that you in your return

will act on his behalf-- to plead his cause for him. For he’s going to

carouse at my house. I shall tell the old man that I’m going to

Sunium, to the fair, to purchase the female servant that Geta

mentioned a while since, so that, when they don’t see me here, they

mayn’t suppose that I’m squandering their money. But there is a noise

at the door of your house.

ANT. See who’s coming out.

PHOR. It’s Geta.

SCENE VIII.

_Enter GETA, at a distance, hastily, from the house of DEMIPHO._

GETA. (_to himself._) O fortune! O good luck![80] with blessings how

great, how suddenly hast thou loaded this day with thy favors to my

master Antipho!--

ANT. (_apart to PHORMIO._) I wonder what it is he means.

GETA. (_continuing._) And relieved us, his friends, from alarm; but

I’m now delaying, in not throwing my cloak[81] over my shoulder

(_throws it over his shoulder_), and making haste to find him, that he

may know what has happened.

ANT. (_apart to PHORMIO._) Do you understand what he’s talking about?

PHOR. (_apart to ANTIPHO._) Do you?

ANT. (_apart to PHORMIO._) Not at all.

PHOR. (_apart to ANTIPHO._) And I just as much.

GETA. (_to himself._) I’ll be off hence to the Procurer’s; they are

there just now. (_Runs along._)

ANT. (_calling out._) Halloo! Geta!

GETA. (_still running._) There’s for you. Is it any thing new or

wonderful to be called back, directly you’ve started?

ANT. Geta!

GETA. Do you persist? Troth, you shall not on this occasion get the

better of me by your annoyance.

ANT. (_running after him._) Won’t you stop?

GETA. You’ll be getting a beating.

ANT. Assuredly that will befall yourself just now unless you stop, you

whip-knave.

GETA. This must be some one pretty familiar, threatening me with a

beating. (_Turns round._) But is it the person I’m in search of or

not? ’Tis the very man! Up to him at once.

ANT. What’s the matter?

GETA. O being most blessed of all men living! For without question,

Antipho, you are the only favorite of the Gods.

ANT. So I could wish; but I should like to be told why I’m to believe

it is so.

GETA. Is it enough if I plunge you into a sea of joy?

ANT. You are worrying me to death.

PHOR. Nay but do have done with your promises, and tell us what you

bring.

GETA. (_looking round._) Oh, are you here too, Phormio?

PHOR. I am: but {why} do you delay?

GETA. Listen, then. When we just now paid you the money at the Forum,

we went straight to Chremes; in the mean time, my master sent me to

your wife.

ANT. What for?

GETA. I’ll omit telling you {that}, as it is nothing to the present

purpose, Antipho. Just as I was going to the woman’s apartments, the

boy Mida came running up to me, and caught me behind by my cloak,

{and} pulled me back; I turned about, {and} inquired for what reason

he stopped me; he said that it was forbidden for any one to go in to

his mistress. “Sophrona has just now,” said he, “introduced here

Chremes, the old gentleman’s brother,” and {he said} that he was then

in the room with them: when I heard this, on tip-toe I stole softly

along; I came there, stood, held my breath, I applied my ear, {and} so

began to listen, catching the conversation every word in this fashion

(_shows them_).

ANT. Well done, Geta.

GETA. Here I overheard a very pretty piece of business; so much so

that I had nearly cried out for joy.

ANT. What {was it}?

GETA. (_laughing._) What do you think?

ANT. I don’t know.

GETA. Why, something most marvelous. Your uncle has been discovered to

be the father of your wife, Phanium.

ANT. (_starting._) Ha! what’s that you say?

GETA. He formerly cohabited secretly with her mother at Lemnos.

PHOR. A dream: how could she be ignorant about her own father?

GETA. Be sure, Phormio, that there is some reason: but do you suppose

that, outside of the door, I was able to understand every thing that

passed between them within?

ANT. On my faith, I too have heard the same story.

GETA. Aye, and I’ll give you still further reason for believing it:

your uncle in the mean time came out from there; not long after he

returned again, with your father; each said that he gave you

permission to retain her; in fine, I’ve been sent to find you, and

bring you to them.

ANT. Why then carry me off[82] {at once};-- why do you delay?

GETA. I’ll do so.

ANT. O my {dear} Phormio, farewell!

PHOR. Farewell, Antipho. (_ANTIPHO and GETA go into DEMIPHO’S house._)

SCENE IX.

_PHORMIO, alone._

PHOR. So may the Gods bless me, this has turned out luckily. I’m glad

{of it}, that such good fortune has thus suddenly befallen them.

I have now an excellent opportunity for diddling the old men, and

ridding Phædria of {all} anxiety about the money, so that he mayn’t be

under the necessity of applying to any of his companions. For this

same money, as it has been given him, shall be given {for good},

whether they like it or not: how to force them to this, I’ve found out

the very way. I must now assume a new air and countenance. But I’ll

betake myself off to this next alley; from that spot I’ll present

myself to them, when they come out of doors. I sha’n’t go to the fair,

where I pretended I was going. (_He retires into the alley._)

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

_Enter DEMIPHO and CHREMES, from DEMIPHO’S house._

DEM. I do give and return hearty thanks to the Gods, and with reason,

brother, inasmuch as these matters have turned out for us so

fortunately. We must now meet with Phormio as soon as possible, before

he squanders our thirty minæ, so that we may get them from him.

_Enter PHORMIO, coming forward, and speaking aloud, as though not

seeing them._

PHOR. I’ll go see if Demipho’s at home; that as to what[83]--

DEM. (_accosting him._) Why, Phormio, we were coming to you.

PHOR. Perhaps about the very same affair. (_DEMIPHO nods assent._) I’

faith, I thought so. What were you coming to my house for? Ridiculous;

are you afraid that I sha’n’t do what I have once undertaken? Hark

you, whatever is my poverty, still, of this one thing I have taken due

care, not to forfeit my word.

CHREM. (_to DEMIPHO._) Is she not genteel-looking,[84] just as I told

you?

DEM. Very much so.

PHOR. And this is what I’m come to tell you, Demipho, that I’m quite

ready; whenever you please, give me my wife. For I postponed all my

{other} business, as was fit I should, when I understood that you were

so very desirous to have it so.

DEM. (_pointing to CHREMES._) But he has dissuaded me from giving her

to you. “For what,” says he, “will be the talk among people if you do

this? Formerly, when she might have been handsomely {disposed of},

then she wasn’t given; now it’s a disgrace for her to be turned out of

doors, a repudiated woman;” pretty nearly, {in fact}, all the reasons

which you yourself, some little time since, were urging to me.

PHOR. Upon my faith, you are treating me in a very insulting manner.

DEM. How so?

PHOR. Do you ask me? Because I shall not be able to marry the other

person {I mentioned}; for with what face shall I return to her whom

I’ve slighted?

CHREM. Then besides, I see that Antipho is unwilling to part with her.

(_Aside, prompting DEMIPHO._) Say so.

DEM. Then besides, I see that my son is very unwilling to part with

the damsel. But have the goodness to step over to the Forum, and order

this money to be transferred to my account,[85] Phormio.

PHOR. What, when I’ve paid it over to the persons to whom I was

indebted?

DEM. What’s to be done, then?

PHOR. If you will let me have her for a wife, as you promised, I’ll

take her; but if you prefer that she should stay with you, the portion

must stay with me, Demipho. For it isn’t fair that I should be misled

for you, as it was for your own sakes that I broke off with the other

woman, who was to have brought me a portion just as large.

DEM. Away with you to utter perdition, with this swaggering, you

vagabond. What, then, do you fancy we don’t know you, or your doings?

PHOR. You are provoking me.

DEM. Would you have married her, if she had been given to you?

PHOR. Try the experiment.

DEM. That my son might cohabit with her at your house, that was your

design.

PHOR. Pray, what is that you say?

DEM. Then do you give me my money?

PHOR. Nay, but do you give me my wife?

DEM. Come before a magistrate. (_Going to seize hold of him._)

PHOR. Why, really, if you persist in being troublesome----

DEM. What will you do?

PHOR. What, I? You fancy, perhaps, just now, that I am the protector

of the portionless; for the well portioned,[86] I’m in the habit {of

being so} as well.

CHREM. What’s that to us?

PHOR. (_with a careless air._) Nothing at all. I know a certain lady

here (_pointing at CHREMES’S house_) whose husband had----

CHREM. (_starting._) Ha!

DEM. What’s the matter?

PHOR. Another {wife} at Lemnos--

CHREM. (_aside._) I’m ruined!

PHOR. By whom he had a daughter; and her he is secretly bringing up.

CHREM. (_aside._) I’m {dead and} buried!

PHOR. This I shall assuredly now inform her of. (_Walks toward the

house._)

CHREM. (_running and catching hold of him._) I beg of you, don’t do

so.

PHOR. (_with a careless air._) Oh, were you the person?

DEM. What a jest he’s making {of us}.

CHREM. (_to PHORMIO._) We’ll let you off.

PHOR. Nonsense.

CHREM. What would you have? We’ll forgive you the money you’ve got.

PHOR. I hear you. Why the plague, then, do you {two} trifle with me in

this way, you silly men, with your childish speeches-- “I won’t, {and}

I will; I will, {and} I won’t,” over again: “keep it, give it me back;

what has been said, is unsaid; what had been just a bargain, is {now}

no bargain.”

CHREM. (_aside, to DEMIPHO._) In what manner, or from whom has he come

to know of this?

DEM. (_aside._) I don’t know; but that I’ve told it to no one, I know

for certain.

CHREM. (_aside._) So may the Gods bless me, ’tis as good as a miracle.

PHOR. (_aside, to himself._) I’ve graveled them.

DEM. (_apart, to CHREMES._) Well now, is he to be carrying off[87]

from us such a sum of money as this, and so palpably to impose upon

us? By heavens, I’d sooner die. Manage to show yourself of resolute

and ready wit. You see that this slip of yours has got abroad, and

that you can not now possibly conceal it from your wife; it is then

more conducive to our quiet, Chremes, ourselves to disclose what she

will be hearing from others; {and} then, in our own fashion, we shall

be able to take vengeance upon this dirty fellow.

PHOR. (_aside, to himself._) Good lack-a-day, {now’s} the

sticking-point, if I don’t look out for myself. They are making toward

me with a gladiatorial air.

CHREM. (_apart, to DEMIPHO._) But I doubt whether it’s possible for

her to be appeased.

DEM. (_apart, to CHREMES._) Be of good courage; I’ll effect a

reconciliation between you; remembering this, Chremes, that she is

dead[88] and gone by whom you had this girl.

PHOR. (_in a loud voice._) Is this the way you are going to deal with

me? Very cleverly {done}. Come on with you. By heavens, Demipho, you

have provoked me, not to his advantage (_pointing at CHREMES_). How

say you? (_addressing CHREMES_). When you’ve been doing abroad just as

you pleased, and have had no regard for this excellent lady {here},

but on the contrary, have been injuring her in an unheard-of manner,

would you be coming to me with prayers to wash away your offenses? On

telling her of this, I’ll make her so incensed with you, that you

sha’n’t quench her, though you should melt away into tears.

DEM. (_aside._) A plague may {all} the Gods and Goddesses send upon

him. That any fellow should be possessed of so much impudence! Does

not this villain deserve to be transported hence to some desolate land

at the public charge?

CHREM. (_aside._) I am brought to such a pass, that I really don’t

know what to do in it.

DEM. I know; let’s go into court.

PHOR. Into court? Here {in preference} (_pointing to CHREMES’S

house_), if it suits you in any way. (_Moves toward the house._)

DEM. (_to CHREMES._) Follow him, and hold him back, till I call out

the servants.

CHREM. (_trying to seize PHORMIO._) But I can’t by myself; run {and

help me}.

PHOR. (_to DEMIPHO, who seizes hold of him._) There’s one action of

damages against you.

CHREM. Sue him at law, then.

PHOR. {And} another with you, Chremes.

DEM. Lay hold of him. (_They both drag him._)

PHOR. Is it thus you do? Why then I must exert my voice: Nausistrata,

come out (_calling aloud_).

CHREM. (_to DEMIPHO._) Stop his mouth.

DEM. See how strong the rascal is.

PHOR. (_calling aloud._) Nausistrata, I say.

CHREM. Will you not hold your tongue?

PHOR. Hold my tongue?

DEM. (_to CHREMES, as they drag him along._) If he won’t follow, plant

your fists in his stomach.

PHOR. Or e’en gouge out an eye. The time’s coming when I shall have a

full revenge on you.

SCENE II.

_Enter NAUSISTRATA, in haste, from the house._

NAUS. Who calls my name?

CHREM. (_in alarm._) Ha!

NAUS. My husband, pray what means this disturbance?

PHOR. (_to CHREMES._) Oh, oh, why are you mute now?

NAUS. Who is this man? Won’t you answer me?

PHOR. What, he to answer you? who, upon my faith, doesn’t know where

he is.

CHREM. (_to NAUSISTRATA._) Take care how you believe that fellow in

any thing.

PHOR. (_to NAUSISTRATA._) Go, touch him; if he isn’t in a cold sweat

all over, why then kill me.

CHREM. ’Tis nothing at all.

NAUS. What is it, then, that this person is talking about?

PHOR. You shall know directly; listen {now}.

CHREM. Are you resolved to believe him?

NAUS. Pray, how can I believe him, when he has told me nothing?

PHOR. The poor creature is distracted from fright.

NAUS. It isn’t for nothing, i’ faith, that you are in such a fright.

CHREM. What, I in a fright?

PHOR. (_to CHREMES._) All right, of course: since you are not in a

fright at all, and this is nothing at all that I’m going to tell, do

you relate it.

DEM. Villain, is he to relate it at your request?

PHOR. (_to DEMIPHO._) Come now, you’ve managed nicely for your

brother.

NAUS. My husband, will you not tell me?

CHREM. But--

NAUS. But what?

CHREM. There’s no need to tell you.

PHOR. {Not} for you, indeed; but there’s need for her to know it. At

Lemnos--

CHREM. (_starting._) Ha! what are you doing?

DEM. (_to PHORMIO._) Won’t you hold your tongue?

PHOR. (_to NAUSISTRATA._) Unknown to you----

CHREM. Ah me!

PHOR. He married another----

NAUS. My {dear} sir, may the Gods forbid it!

PHOR. Such is the fact.

NAUS. Wretch that I am, I’m undone!

PHOR. And had a daughter by her, too, while you never dreamed of it.

CHREM. What are we to do?

NAUS. O immortal Gods! --a disgraceful and a wicked misdeed!

DEM. (_aside, to CHREMES._) It’s all up {with} you.

PHOR. Was ever any thing now more ungenerously done? Your men, who,

when they come to their wives, then become incapacitated from old age.

NAUS. Demipho, I appeal to you; for with that man it is irksome for me

to speak. Were these those frequent journeys and long visits at

Lemnos? Was this the lowness of prices that reduced our rents?

DEM. Nausistrata, I don’t deny that in this matter he has been

deserving of censure; but still, it may be pardoned.

PHOR. (_apart._) He is talking to the dead.

DEM. For he did this neither through neglect or aversion to yourself.

About fifteen years since, in a drunken fit, he had an intrigue with

this poor woman, of whom this girl was born, nor did he ever touch her

afterward. She is dead and gone: the {only} difficulty that remained

in this matter. Wherefore, I do beg of you, that, as in other things,

you’ll bear this with patience.

NAUS. Why {should I} with patience? I could wish, afflicted as I am,

that there were an end now of this matter. But how can I hope? Am I to

suppose that, at his age, he will not offend in future? Was he not an

old man then, if old age makes people behave themselves decently? Are

my looks and my age more attractive now, Demipho? What do you advance

to me, to make me expect or hope that this will not happen any more?

PHOR. (_in a loud voice._) Those who have[89] a mind to come to the

funeral of Chremes, why now’s their time. ’Tis thus I retaliate: come

now, let him challenge Phormio who pleases: I’ll have him

victimized[90] with just a like mischance. Why then, let him return

again into her good graces. I have now had revenge enough. She has got

something for her as long as she lives, to be forever ringing into his

ears.

NAUS. But it was because I deserved this, I suppose; why should I now,

Demipho, make mention of each particular, how I have conducted myself

toward him?

DEM. I know it all, as well as yourself.

NAUS. Does it appear, then, that I deserved this treatment?

DEM. Far from it: but since, by reproaching, it can not now be undone,

forgive him: he entreats you-- he begs your pardon-- owns his fault--

makes an apology. What would you have more?

PHOR. (_aside._) But really, before she grants pardon to him, I must

take care of myself and Phædria. (_To NAUSISTRATA._) Hark you,

Nausistrata, before you answer him without thinking, listen {to me}.

NAUS. What’s the matter?

PHOR. I got out of him thirty minæ by a stratagem. I give them to your

son; he paid them to a Procurer for his mistress.

CHREM. Ha! what is it you say?

PHOR. (_sneeringly._) Does it seem to you so very improper for your

son, a young man, to keep one mistress, {while} you {have} two wives?

Are you ashamed of nothing? With what face will you censure him?

Answer me that.

DEM. He shall do as you wish.

NAUS. Nay, that you may now know my determination. I neither forgive

nor promise any thing, nor give any answer, before I see my son: to

his decision I leave every thing. What he bids me, I shall do.

DEM. You are a wise woman, Nausistrata.

NAUS. Does that satisfy you, Chremes?

CHREM. Yes, indeed, I come off well, and fully to my satisfaction;

indeed, beyond my expectation.

NAUS. (_to PHORMIO._) Do you tell me, what is your name?

PHOR. What, mine? Phormio; a well-wisher to your family, upon my

honor, and to your {son} Phaedria in particular.

NAUS. Then, Phormio, on my word, henceforward I’ll both do and say for

you all I can, and whatever you may desire.

PHOR. You speak obligingly.

NAUS. I’ faith, it is as you deserve.

PHOR. First, then, will you do this, Nausistrata, at once, to please

me, and to make your husband’s eyes ache {with vexation}?

NAUS. With all my heart.

PHOR. Invite me to dinner.

NAUS. Assuredly indeed, I do invite you.

DEM. Let us now away in-doors.

CHREM. By all means; but where is Phaedria, our arbitrator?

PHOR. I’ll have him here just now. (_To the AUDIENCE._) Fare you well,

and grant us your applause.[91]

ADDITIONAL SCENE.

(_Which is generally considered to be spurious._)

_Enter PHÆDRIA and PHORMIO, from opposite sides of the stage._

PHÆD. Assuredly there is a God, who both hears and sees what we do.

And I do not consider that to be true which is commonly said: “Fortune

frames and fashions the affairs of mankind, just as she pleases.”

PHOR. (_aside._) Heyday! what means this? I’ve met with Socrates, not

Phædria, so far as I see. Why hesitate to go up and address him?

(_Accosting him._) How now, Phædria, whence have you acquired this new

wisdom, and derived such great delight, as you show by your

countenance?

PHÆD. O welcome, {my} friend; O most delightful Phormio, welcome!

There’s not a person in all the world I could more wish just now to

meet than yourself.

PHOR. Pray, tell me what is the matter.

PHÆD. Aye, faith, I have to beg of you, that you will listen to it. My

Pamphila is a citizen of Attica, and of noble birth, and rich.

PHOR. What is it you tell me? Are you dreaming, pray?

PHÆD. Upon my faith, I’m saying what’s true.

PHOR. Yes, and this, too, is a true saying: “You’ll have no great

difficulty in believing that to be true, which you greatly wish {to be

so}.”

PHÆD. Nay, but do listen, I beg of you, to all the wonderful things I

have to tell you of. It was while thinking of this to myself, that I

just now burst forth into those expressions which you heard-- that we,

and what relates to us, are ruled by the sanction of the Gods, {and}

not by blind chance.

PHOR. I’ve been for some time in a state of suspense.

PHÆD. Do you know Phanocrates?

PHOR. As well as {I do} yourself.

PHÆD. The rich man?

PHOR. I understand.

PHÆD. He is the father of Pamphila. Not to detain you, these were the

circumstances: Calchas was his servant, a worthless, wicked fellow.

Intending to run away from the house, he carried off this girl, whom

her father was bringing up in the country, {then} five years old, and,

secretly taking her with him to Eubæa, sold her to Lycus, a merchant.

This person, a long time after, sold her, when now grown up, to Dorio.

She, however, knew that she was the daughter of parents of rank,

inasmuch as she recollected herself being attended {and} trained up by

female servants: the name of her parents she didn’t recollect.

PHOR. How, then, were they discovered?

PHÆD. Stay; I was coming to that. This runaway was caught yesterday,

and sent back to Phanocrates: he related the wonderful circumstances I

have mentioned about the girl, and how she was sold to Lycus, and

afterward to Dorio. Phanocrates sent immediately, and claimed his

daughter; but when he learned that she had been sold, he came running

to me.

PHOR. O, how extremely fortunate!

PHÆD. Phanocrates has no objection to my marrying her; nor has my

father, I imagine.

PHOR. Trust me for that; I’ll have all this matter managed for you;

Phormio has so arranged it, that you shall not be a suppliant to your

father, but his judge.

PHÆD. You are joking.

PHOR. So it is, I tell you. Do you only {give me} the thirty minæ

which Dorio--

PHÆD. You put me well in mind; I understand you; you may have them;

for he must give them back, as the law forbids a free woman to be

sold; and, on my faith, I do rejoice that an opportunity is afforded

me of rewarding you, and taking a hearty vengeance upon him; a monster

of a fellow! he has feelings more hardened than iron.

PHOR. Now, Phædria, I return you thanks; I’ll make you a return upon

occasion, if ever I have the opportunity. You impose a heavy task upon

me, to be contending with you in good offices, as I can not in wealth;

and in affection and zeal, I must repay you what I owe. To be

surpassed in deserving well, is a disgrace to a man of principle.

PHÆD. Services badly bestowed, I take to be disservices. But I do not

know any person more grateful and more mindful {of a service} than

yourself. What is it you were just now mentioning about my father?

PHOR. There are many particulars, which at present I have not the

opportunity to relate. Let’s go in-doors, for Nausistrata has invited

me to dinner, and I’m afraid we may keep them waiting.

PHÆD. Very well; follow me. (_To the AUDIENCE._) Fare you well, and

grant us your applause.

FOOTNOTES

[Footnote 1: From δημὸς, “the people,” and φῶς “light”.]

[Footnote 2: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

[Footnote 3: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]

[Footnote 4: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]

[Footnote 5: From φορμὸς, “an osier basket.”]

[Footnote 6: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Adelphi.]

[Footnote 7: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

[Footnote 8: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Adelphi.]

[Footnote 9: From κρατὸς, “strength.”]

[Footnote 10: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

[Footnote 11: From Doris, his country, a part of Caria.]

[Footnote 12: From ναῦς, “a ship,” and στρατὸς, “an army.”]

[Footnote 13: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]

[Footnote 14: _The Roman Games_)--The “ludi Romani,” or “Roman

Games,” were first established by Ancus Marcius, and were

celebrated in the month of September.]

[Footnote 15: _Four times_)--The numerals signifying “four,”

Donatus takes to mean that this was the fourth Play composed by

Terence; it is, however, more generally supposed that the meaning

is, that it was acted four times in one year.]

[Footnote 16: _Being Consuls_)--M. Valerius Messala and C. Fannius

Strabo were Consuls in the year from the Building of the City 591,

and B.C. 162.]

[Footnote 17: _Since the old Poet_)--Ver. 1. He alludes to his old

enemy, Luscus Lavinius, who is mentioned in all his Prologues,

except those to the Hecyra.]

[Footnote 18: _While one implored_)--Ver. 8. “Et eam plorare,

orare ut subveniat sibi.” This is probably in allusion to some

absurd passage in one of the Plays of Lavinius. It is generally

supposed to mean, that the stag implores the young man; but as the

youth is mad, the absurdity, of the passage is heightened if we

suppose that he implores the stag, and, in the moment of its own

danger, entreats it to come to his own assistance; as certainly

the Latin will admit of that interpretation. --Ovid has a somewhat

similar passage in the Pontic Epistles, B. ii. Ep. ii. l. 39: “The

hind that, in its terror, is flying from the savage dogs,

hesitates not to trust itself to the neighboring house.”]

[Footnote 19: _Epidicazomenos_)--Ver. 25. A Play of Apollodorus,

so called from that Greek word, signifying “one who demands

justice from another,” in allusion to Phormio, who is the

complainant in the suit, which is the foundation of the plot.]

[Footnote 20: _Was driven from the place_)--Ver. 32. Alluding,

probably, to the disturbances which took place at the first

representation of the Hecyra, and which are mentioned in the

Prologues to that Play.]

[Footnote 21: _Davus_)--Davus is a protatic character, only

introduced for the purpose of opening the story.]

[Footnote 22: _Out of his allowance_)--Ver. 43. Donatus tells us

that the slaves received four “modii,” or measures of corn, each

month, which was called their “demensum.”]

[Footnote 23: _Will be struck_)--Ver. 48. “Ferietur.” “To strike”

a person for a present was said when it was extorted from him

reluctantly. So in the Trinummuns of Plautus, l. 247, “Ibi illa

pendentem ferit.” “Then does she strike while he is wavering.”]

[Footnote 24: _For another present_)--Ver. 48. Presents were

usually made to persons on their birthday, on the day of their

marriage, and on the birth of their children.]

[Footnote 25: _Initiate him_)--Ver. 49. It is not known what

initiation is here referred to. Madame Dacier thinks it was an

initiation into the great mysteries of Ceres, which was commonly

performed while children were yet very young; others suggest that

it means the period of weaning the child, and initiating it into

the use of another kind of diet. Donatus says, that Varro speaks

of children being initiated into the mysteries of the Deities

Edulia, Potica, and Cuba, the Divinities of Eating, Drinking, and

Sleeping.]

[Footnote 26: _Ready counted out_)--Ver. 53. “Lectum,” literally

“picked out” or “chosen”-- the coins being of full weight.]

[Footnote 27: _Have been angry with me_)--Ver. 74. He alludes to

the common belief that each person had a Genius or Guardian Deity;

and that when misfortune overtook him, he had been abandoned by

his Genius.]

[Footnote 28: _Kick against the spur_)--Ver. 78. “To kick against

the pricks,” or “in spite of the spur,” was a common Greek

proverb. The expression occurs in the New Testament, Acts ix. 5.

“It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.”]

[Footnote 29: _To make your market_)--Ver. 79. This is a

metaphorical expression taken from traffic, in which merchants

suit themselves to the times, and fix a price on their

commodities, according to the course of the market.]

[Footnote 30: _To the school_)--Ver. 86. It was the custom for the

“lenones,” or “procurers,” to send their female slaves to

music-schools, in order to learn accomplishments. So in the

Prologue to the Rudens of Plautus: “This Procurer brought the

maiden to Cyrene hither. A certain Athenian youth, a citizen of

this city, beheld her us she was going home from the

music-school.”]

[Footnote 31: _Young man in tears_)--Ver. 92. In the Play of

Apollodorus, it was the barber himself that gave the account how

he had just returned from cutting off the young woman’s hair,

which was one of the usual ceremonies in mourning among the

Greeks. Donatus remarks, that Terence altered this circumstance

that he might not shock a Roman audience by a reference to manners

so different from their own.]

[Footnote 32: _Take out a summons_)--Ver. 127. “Dica” was the writ

or summons with which an action at law was commenced.]

[Footnote 33: _Usher to the Music-girl_)--Ver. 144. This is said

satirically of Phaedria, who was in the habit of escorting the

girl to the music-school. It was the duty of the “pædagogi,” or

“tutors,” to lead the children to school, who were placed under

their care. See the speech of Lydus, the pædagogus of Pistoclerus,

in the Bacchides of Plautus, Act iii. Sc. 3, where, enlarging upon

his duties, he mentions this among them.]

[Footnote 34: _Sever from me this connection_)--Ver. 161. By

forcing him to divorce her.]

[Footnote 35: _Neither right_)--Ver. 176. No right to get rid of

her in consequence of the judgment which, at the suit of Phormio,

has been pronounced against him; nor yet, right to keep her,

because of his father insisting upon turning her out of doors.]

[Footnote 36: _Be washing a brickbat_)--Ver. 187. “Laterem

lavare,” “to wash a brick,” or “tile,” was a proverb signifying

labor in vain, probably because (if the brick was previously

baked) it was impossible to wash away the red color of it.

According to some, the saying alluded to the act of washing a

brick which had been only dried in the sun, in which case the

party so doing both washed away the brick and soiled his own

fingers.]

[Footnote 37: _Here in reserve_)--Ver. 230. “Succenturiatus.” The

“succenturiati” were, properly, men intrusted to fill up vacancies

in the centuries or companies, when thinned by battle.]

[Footnote 38: _Let alone “authority”_)--Ver. 232. “Ac mitto

imperium.” Cicero has quoted this passage in his Epistles to

Atticus, B. ii. Ep. 19.]

[Footnote 39: _When affairs are the most prosperous_)--Ver. 241.

Cicero quotes this passage in the Third Book of his Tusculan

Questions, and the maxim here inculcated was a favorite one with

the Stoic philosophers.]

[Footnote 40: _Any giving evidence_)--Ver. 293. Slaves were

neither allowed to plead for themselves, nor to give evidence. See

the Curculio of Plautus, l. 621, and the Notes to the Andria.]

[Footnote 41: _Given her a portion_)--Ver. 297. By this remark,

Donatus observes that Terence artfully prepares us for the

imposition of Phormio, who extorts money from the old gentleman on

this very ground.]

[Footnote 42: _While you were living_)--Ver. 302. There was a law

at Athens which enacted that persons who lent money to young men

in the lifetime of their parents should have no power to recover

it. In line 303 of the Pseudolus, Plautus alludes to the

Quinavicenarian or Lætorian Law, at Rome, which forbade credit to

be given to persons under the age of twenty-five years, and

deprived the creditor of all right to recover his money or goods.]

[Footnote 43: _The woman’s next friend_)--Ver. 307. The “patronus”

was the person who undertook to conduct a lawsuit for another.]

[Footnote 44: _Salute the household Gods_)--Ver. 311. It was the

custom for those returning from a voyage or journey, to give

thanks to their household Gods for having protected them in their

absence. Thus, in the Amphitryon of Plautus, Jupiter, while

personating Amphitryon, pretends, in l. 983, that he is going to

offer sacrifice for his safe return.]

[Footnote 45: _And so you say_)--Ver. 315. Donatus tells the

following story with reference to this passage: “This Play being

once rehearsed before Terence and some of his most intimate

acquaintances, Ambivius, who acted the part of Phormio, came in

drunk, which threw the author into a violent passion; but Ambivius

had scarcely repeated a few lines, stammering and scratching his

head, before Terence became pacified, declaring that when he was

writing these very lines, he had exactly such a Parasite as

Ambivius then represented, in his thoughts.”]

[Footnote 46: _Have hashed it up_)--Ver. 318. He is thought to

allude here, figuratively, to the composition of a dish called

“moretum,” (in praise of which Virgil wrote a poem) which was

composed of garlic, onions, cheese, eggs, and other ingredients,

beaten up in a mortar. The allusion to eating is appropriately

used in an address to a Parasite.]

[Footnote 47: _Turn upon myself_)--Ver. 323. Donatus observes that

in this Scene Terence exhibits the lower order of Parasites, who

ingratiated themselves by sharping and roguery, as in the Eunuchus

he describes Parasites of a higher rank, and of a newer species,

who obtained their ends by flattery.]

[Footnote 48: _In the stocks at last_)--Ver. 325. “In nervum

crumpat denique.” There are several interpretations suggested for

these words. Some think they allude to the drawing of a bow till

it breaks; but they are more generally thought to imply

termination in corporal punishment. “Nervus” is supposed to have

been the name of a kind of stocks used in torturing slaves, and so

called from being formed, in part at least, of the sinews of

animals.]

[Footnote 49: _They will take you_)--Ver. 334. At Rome, insolvent

debtors became the slaves of their creditors till their debts were

paid.]

[Footnote 50: _To his patron_)--Ver. 338. “Regi.” The Parasites

were in the habit of calling their patron “Rex,” their “King.”]

[Footnote 51: _At free cost_)--Ver. 339. “Asymbolum.” Without

having paid his “symbola,” or “club,” for the entertainment.

Donatus informs us that the whole of this passage is borrowed from

one of Ennius, which is still preserved.]

[Footnote 52: _First to drink_)--Ver. 342. To be the first to

drink, and to take the higher place on the couch when eating, was

the privilege of the most honored guests, who usually bathed, and

were then anointed before the repast.]

[Footnote 53: _Banquet full of doubts_)--Ver. 342. “Coena dubia.”

Horace, who borrows many of his phrases from Terence, uses the

same expression.]

[Footnote 54: _Since you reign alone_)--Ver. 605. This is a remark

well put into the mouth of an Athenian, as the public were very

jealous of any person becoming paramount to the laws, and to

prevent it, were frequently guilty of the most odious oppression.]

[Footnote 55: _So many minds_)--Ver. 454. “Quot homines, tot

sententiæ.” This is a famous adage. One similar to the succeeding

one is found in the Second Eclogue of Virgil, l. 65: “Trahit sua

quemque voluptas,” exactly equivalent to our saying, “Every man to

his taste.”]

[Footnote 56: _Must deliberate further_)--Ver. 457. “Amplius

deliberandum.” This is probably a satirical allusion to the

judicial system of procrastination, which, by the Romans, was

called “ampliatio.” When the judges could not come to a

satisfactory conclusion about a cause, they signified it by the

letters N. L. (for “non liquet,” “it is not clear”), and put off

the suit for a rehearing.]

[Footnote 57: _Much more at a loss_)--Ver. 459. See the Poenulus

of Plautus, where advocates or assistants are introduced among the

Dramatic Personæ. Colman has the following remarks on this quaint

passage: “I believe there is no Scene in Comedy more highly

seasoned with the {ridiculous} than this before us. The idea is

truly comic, and it is worked up with all that simplicity and

chastity so peculiar to the manner of Terence. An ordinary writer

would have indulged himself in twenty little conceits on this

occasion; but the dry gravity of Terence infinitely surpasses, as

true humor, all the drolleries which, perhaps, even those great

masters of Comedy, Plautus or Molière, might have been tempted to

throw out. It is the highest art of a Dramatic Author, on some

occasions, to leave a good deal to the Actor; and it has been

remarked by Heinsius and others, that Terence was particularly

attentive to this circumstance.”]

[Footnote 58: _From his place of exercise_)--Ver. 484. “Palæstra.”

He alludes to the Procurer’s house under this name.]

[Footnote 59: _Befall his own safety_)--Ver. 490. Overhearing

Phædria earnest and determined, and the Procurer obstinate and

inflexible, Antipho and Geta join in apprehending that the

brutality of the latter may provoke Phædria to some act of

violence.]

[Footnote 60: _With fine words_)--Ver. 499. “Phaleratis dictis.”

“Phaleræ” were, properly, the silver ornaments with which horses

were decked out, and being only for show, and not for use, gave

rise to this saying. “Ductes” was an obscene word, and not likely

to be used by any but such characters as Dorio.]

[Footnote 61: _A wolf by the ears_)--Ver. 505. A proverbial

expression which, according to Suetonius, was frequently in the

mouth of Tiberius Cæsar.]

[Footnote 62: _A word to the wise_)--Ver. 540. “Dictum sapienti

sat est.” The same proverb is found in the Persa of Plautus,

l. 736.]

[Footnote 63: _To shake myself_)--Ver. 585. “Me excutiam.” In

reference to the custom of the Greeks, and the Eastern nations, of

shaking their clothes at the door of any house which they were

going to leave.]

[Footnote 64: _Rely on at home_)--Ver. 586. “Nam ego meorum solus

sum meus.” He means that he is the only person in his house

friendly to himself, inasmuch as his wife, from her wealth, has

supreme power over the domestics, in whom he himself can place no

trust.]

[Footnote 65: _Good terms with him_)--Ver. 635. Meaning, “Is he in

his senses or not?”]

[Footnote 66: _Amount of his life_)--Ver. 660. “Quid si animam

debet?” Erasmus tells us that this was a proverb among the Greeks

applied to those who ran so deeply in debt, that their persons,

and consequently, in one sense, their very existence, came into

the power of their creditors.]

[Footnote 67: _Six hundred actions_)--Ver. 667. “Sescentos;”

literally, “six hundred.” The Romans used this term as we do the

words “ten thousand,” to signify a large, but indefinite number.]

[Footnote 68: _A strange black dog_)--Ver. 705. This omen, Plautus

calls, in the Casina, l. 937, “canina scæva.”]

[Footnote 69: _Through the sky-light_)--Ver. 706. So in the

Amphitryon of Plautus, l. 1108, two great snakes come down through

the “impluvium,” or “sky-light.” On the subject of the

“impluvium,” see the Notes to the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus,

l. 159.]

[Footnote 70: _A hen crowed_)--Ver. 707. Donatus tells us that it

was a saying, that in the house where a hen crowed, the wife had

the upper hand.]

[Footnote 71: _The soothsayer-- the diviner_)--Ver. 708. According

to some accounts there was this difference between the “hariolus”

and the “aruspex,” that the former foretold human events, the

latter those relating to the Deities. Donatus has remarked on

these passages, that Terence seems to sneer at the superstitions

referred to.]

[Footnote 72: _Can find them now_)--Ver. 726. His Lemnian wife and

daughter. Colman remarks: “This is intended as a transition to the

next Scene; but I think it would have been better if it had

followed without this kind of introduction. The Scene itself is

admirable, and is, in many places, both affecting and comic, and

the discovery of the real character of Phanium is made at a very

proper time.”]

[Footnote 73: _My daughter’s nurse_)--Ver. 735. Among the

ancients, it was the custom for nurses who had brought up children

to remain with them in after-life.]

[Footnote 74: _Where are the ladies?_)--Ver. 748. “Ubi illæ?”

literally, “Where are these women?”]

[Footnote 75: _Run beyond the house_)--Ver. 767. “Fugias ne præter

casam.” This passage has given much trouble to the Commentators;

but it is pretty clear that the explanation of Donatus is the

correct one: “Don’t abandon your own home,” that being the safest

place. Stallbaum agrees with Gronovius in thinking that it was

first applied as a piece of advice to runaway slaves, as being

likely to become worse off by the change; probably much in the

same spirit as we say, “Out of the frying-pan into the fire.”]

[Footnote 76: _Paying by borrowing_)--Ver. 779. “Versura solvere,”

was “to pay a debt by borrowing money,” and consequently to be no

better off than before. Geta having, by the money he has procured,

freed Phædria from all danger of losing his mistress, but at the

same time having brought Antipho into still greater danger of

losing his wife.]

[Footnote 77: _Or his talking_)--Ver. 782. “Ejus” here alludes,

not to Nausistrata but to Phormio. Madame Dacier suggests that it

should be “hujus.”]

[Footnote 78: _With your money_)--Ver. 785. Colman observes:

“Alluding to the money borrowed of her to pay Phormio; and as

Donatus observes in another place, it is admirably contrived, in

order to bring about a humorous catastrophe that Chremes should

make use of his wife’s money on this occasion.”]

[Footnote 79: _Our friend’s_)--Ver. 811. Chremes himself is so

called, to deceive Nausistrata.]

[Footnote 80: _O good luck_)--Ver. 840. “Fors fortuna,” “good

fortune;” while “fortuna” merely means “chance.”]

[Footnote 81: _Throwing my cloak_)--Ver. 843. When expedition was

required, it was usual to throw the ends of the “pallium,” or

“cloak,” over the shoulders.]

[Footnote 82: _Carry me off_)--Ver. 881. Madame Dacier says that

Antipho is so rejoiced here at Geta’s news, that he jumps upon his

shoulders, and is carried off in triumph, which was a sort of

stage-trick, and was very diverting to the Audience. On this,

Colman observes: “I believe Madame Dacier has not the least

foundation for this extraordinary piece of information; and I must

confess, that I have too high an opinion, both of the Roman

audience and actors, to believe it to be true.”]

[Footnote 83: _That as to what_)--Ver. 898. Lemaire suggests that

he is about to say: “that as to what was agreed upon between us,

I may take home this young woman, and make her my wife.”]

[Footnote 84: _Is she not genteel-looking_)--Ver. 904. Patrick has

the following note here: “One can not conceive any thing more

happy or just than these words of Chremes. Demipho’s thoughts are

wholly taken up how to recover the money, and Phormio is equally

solicitous to retain it; but Chremes, who had just left his

daughter, is regardless of their discourse, and fresh from the

impressions which she had made on him, longs to know if his

brother’s sentiments of her were equally favorable, and naturally

puts this paternal question to him.”]

[Footnote 85: _Transferred to my account_)--Ver. 921. “Rescribere

argentum,” or “nummos,” meant “to transfer,” or “set down money to

the account of another person in one’s banker’s books.” A passage

in the Asinaria of Plautus, l. 445, seems to have the same

meaning.]

[Footnote 86: _For the well portioned_)--Ver. 939. Though Colman

thinks otherwise, it is pretty clear that he alludes to

Nausistrata in these words.]

[Footnote 87: _To be carrying off_)--Ver. 954. Patrick has the

following note here: “The different characters of the two brothers

are admirably preserved throughout this Scene. Chremes stands

greatly in awe of his wife, and will submit to any thing rather

than the story should come to her ears; but Demipho can not brook

the thoughts of losing so much money, and encourages his brother

to behave with spirit and resolution, promising to make up matters

between him and his wife.”]

[Footnote 88: _Dead and gone_)--Ver. 965. “E medio excedere,” was

an Euphemism signifying “to die,” which it was deemed of ill omen

to mention.]

[Footnote 89: _Those who have_)--Ver. 1025. He here uses the terms

which it was customary to employ in the celebration of a public

funeral. See also the form of proclaiming an auction, at the end

of the Menæchmi of Plautus.]

[Footnote 90: _Have him victimised_)--Ver. 1027. “Mactatus” was

the term applied to the pouring of wine and frankincense on the

victim about to be sacrificed, on which it was said to be “magis

auctus,” “increased,” or “amplified;” which, in time, became

corrupted into the word “mactatus,” or “mactus.”]

[Footnote 91: _Grant us your applause_)--Ver. 1054. Thus concludes

the last, and certainly not the least meritorious of the Plays of

our Author; indeed, for genuine comic spirit, it may challenge

comparison with the Eunuch, which is in general considered to be

the best.]

*       *       *       *       *

*       *       *       *

*       *       *       *       *

Errors and Inconsistencies (Noted by transcriber)

The variation between “Augustin” and “Augustine” (St.) is unchanged.

Unless otherwise noted, errors found in the New York (Harper) edition

are also present in the London (Bell/Bohn) edition.

Andria:

CHREM. But how say you----? [extraneous close quote at end]

Footnote 83... She speaks of “liberæ,” “free women,”

[in Harper edn. only, second open quote missing]

Footnote 90... to tie criminals hands and feet together

[no apostrophe after ”criminals”; grammatical intent is

ambiguous]

Eunuch:

Footnote 10... From δόναξ, “a reed.” [δόνὰξ with extra accent]

Footnote 33... these words, commencing with “Sane, quia vero,”

[Harper edn. has “conmencing”]

Self-Tormentor:

CHREM. ...I opened all the casks, all the vessels;[56]

[footnote tag missing in Bell/Bohn;

Harper has extraneous close quote instead]

Adelphi:

Footnotes 14-16 --This Play [page printed without dashes in

footnotes]

DEM. {Æschinus}, if you are a man, he’ll do it.

[final period missing in Harper]

Hecyra:

Footnote 57... contradicts himself?

[Harper edn. has extraneous close quote]

END

Table of Contents

The Comedies of Plautus

Translated by

Henry Thomas Riley

(Untitled)

THE CAPTIVI

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

THE ACROSTIC ARGUMENT {1}.

THE PROLOGUE.

ACT I.—SCENE I.

Enter ERGASILUS.

SCENE II.—Enter, from his house, HEGIO and a SLAVE.

ACT II.—SCENE I.

SCENE II.—Enter HEGIO, from his house, speaking to those within.

SCENE III.—Enter PHILOCRATES, from the house.

ACT III.—SCENE I.

Enter ERGASILUS.

SCENE II.—Enter HEGIO and ARISTOPHONTES.

SCENE III.—Enter TYNDARUS, from the house.

SCENE IV.—Enter HEGIO, ARISTOPHONTES, and SLAVES, from the house.

SCENE V.—HEGIO, TYNDARUS, ARISTOPHONTES, and SLAVES.

SCENE VI.—HEGIO and ARISTOPHONTUS.

ACT IV.—SCENE I.

Enter ERGASILUS. {1}

SCENE II.—Enter HEGIO, at a distance.

SCENE III.—ERGASILUS, alone.

ACT V.—SCENE I.

Enter a LAD, a servant of HEGIO.

SCENE II.—Enter HEGIO, PHILOPOLEMUS, PHILOCRATES, and behind them, STALAGMUS.

SCENE III.—HEGIO and STALAGMUS.

(Untitled)

SCENE IV.—Enter PHILOCRATES, from the house.

(Untitled)

SCENE V.—Enter TYNDARUS, in chains, led in by the SERVANTS.

MOSTELLARIA OR, THE HAUNTED HOUSE.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

MOSTELLARIA {1} OR, THE HAUNTED HOUSE.

THE ACROSTIC ARGUMENT.

{Supposed to have been written by Priscian the Grammarian.}

ACT I.—SCENE I.

Enter, from the house of THEUROPIDES, GRUMIO, pushing out TRANIO.

SCENE II.—

Enter PHILOLACHES,  from the house of THEUROPIDES.

SCENE III.—

Enter PHILEMATIUM and SCAPHA, with all the requisites for a toilet

SCENE IV.—Enter CALLIDAMATES, at a distance, drunk, and DELPHIUM, followed by a SERVANT.

SCENE V.—Enter TRANIO, at a distance.

ACT II.—SCENE I.

Enter THEUROPIDES, followed by ATTENDANTS.

ACT III.—SCENE I.

Enter a BANKER, at the end of the stage.

SCENE II.—Enter SIMO, from his house.

ACT IV.—SCENE I.

Enter PHANISCUS.

SCENE II.—Enter TRANIO and THEUROPIDES, from the house of SIMO.

SCENE III.—THEUROPIDES, PHANISCUS, and another SERVANT.

SCENE IV.—Enter SIMO.

ACT V.—SCENE I.

Enter TRANIO.

SCENE II.—Enter CALLIDAMATES, at a distance.