THE
COMEDIES
TERENCE.
LITERALLY TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH PROSE,
WITH NOTES.
By henry THOMAS RH.EY, B.A.,
LATE SOUOLAE OF CLARE HALL, CAMBRIDGE.
TO WHICH IS ADDED
THE BLANK VERSE TRANSLATION OF
GEORGE COLMAN.
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MAIN
PREFACE.
In this Version of the Plays of Terence the Text of
Volbehr, 1846, has been followed, with the few excep-
tions mentioned in the Notes.
The Translator has endeavored to convey faithfully
the meaning of the author, and although not rigorously
literal, he has, he trusts, avoided such wild departures
from the text as are found in tho versions of Echard,
Cooke, Patrick, and Gordon.
CONTENTS,
COMEDIES OF TERENCE.
IN PROSE.
^Anduia ; OK, THic FaiPv Andkian .'T'i 1
• EuNUCHus; ou, tiie Eunuch 63
/ IIbautoxtimorumenos ; or, the Self-tokmextoPw 132
yVDELPiii ; OR, Tin: Brothers ". 197
/Hecyra ; the Mother-in-law 254
JPhormio ; or, the Scheming Parasite : 301
IN VERSE.
/ The Andrian 367
/fHE Eunuch 408
> The Self-tormentor 451
^::^TnE Brothers 494
/'The Step-mother : 535
y Phormio , 568
ANDRIAf
THE FAIR ANDRIAK
DRAMATIS PERSON-aS.
Smo/ an aged Athenian.
Pamphilus," son of Simo,
SosiA,^ freedman of Simo.
Chremes,* an aged Athenian.
CiiARiNus,^ a young Athenian, in love with Philumena.
Crito,^ a native of Andros.
Davus,'' servant of Simo.
Dromo,^ servant of Simo.
Byrriiia,^ servant of Charinus.
Glycerium/" a young woman beloved by Pamphilus.
Mysis,^^ her maid-servant.
Lesbia,^^ a midwife.
Scene. — Athens ; before the houses of Smo and Glycerium.
^ From o-i//df , " fiat-nosed."
^ From Traf, " all," and ^ilog, " a friend."
^ From ffwC^J, " to save ;" saved in war.
* From xp^l^'^ToiLtai, ' ' to spit."
* From ;^apif, "grace."
^ From KpLTr)g, "a judge."
' From Dacia, his native country ; the Davi and Daci being th©
same people.
^ From SpSfiog, "a race."
' From 7ri»/5/f5df, "red-haired."
" From ylvKepoc, "sweet."
" From Mysia, her native country.
" From Lesbos, her native country.
A
THE SUBJECT.
Chremes and Phania were brothers, citizens of Athens. Chremes go-
ing to Asia, leaves his daughter, Pasibula, in the care of his brother
Phania, who, afterward setting sail with Pasibula for Asia, is wrecked
off the Isle of Andros. Escaping with their lives, they are kindly-
received by a native of the island ; and Phania soon afterward dies
there. The Andrian changes the name of the girl to Glycerium,
and brings her np, as his own child, with his daughter Chrysis. On
his death, Chrysis and Glycerium sail for Athens to seek their fortune
there. Chrysis being admired by seA'eral Athenian youths, Pam-
philus, the son of Simo, an opulent citizen, chances to see Glycerium,
and falls violently in love with her. She afterward becomes preg-
nant by him, on which he makes her a promise of marriage. In
the mean time, Chremes, who is now living at Athens, and is ignorant
of the fate of Pasibula, agrees with Simo, the father of Pamphilus,
to give Philumena, another daughter, in marriage to Pamphilus.
Wliile these arrangements are being made, Chrysis dies ; on which
Simo accidentally discovers his son's connection with Glycerium.
Chremes, also coming to hear of it, declines the match, having no
idea that Glycerium is really his own daughter. Simo, however, in
order to test his son's feelings, resolves to pretend that t]^c marriage-
day is fixed. Meeting Pamphilus in the town, he desires him to go
home and prepare for the wedding, which is to take place imme-
diately. In his perjilexity, the youth has recourse to his servant
Davus, who, having heard of the refusal of Chremes, suspects the de-
sign of Simo. At this conjuncture, Charinus, a friend of Pam])hilus,
who is enamored of Philumena, but has been rejected by her father,
entreats Pamphilus to put off the marriage, for at least a few days.
Disclosing his own aversion to the match, Pamphilus readily engages
to do this. In order the more effectually to break it oif, Davus
advises Pamphilus to pretend a readiness to comply with his father's
wishes, supposing that of course Chremes will steadily persist in his
refusal. Pamphilus does as he is advised, on which Simo again ap-
plies to Chremes, who, after some entreaty, gives his consent. Just
at this conjuncture, Glycerium is delivered of a son ; and by the ad-
vice of Davus, it is laid before the door of Simo's house. Chremes
happening to see it there, and ascertaining that Pamphilus is its fa-
ther, again refuses to give him his daughter. At this moment, Crito,
a native of Andros, arrives, who, being a relative of Chrysis, has come
to Athens to look after her property. Through him, Chremes dis-
covers that Glycerium is no other than his long-lost daughter, Pasib-
ula ; on which he consents to her immediate marriage with Pam-
philus, who promises Charinus that he will use his best endeavors to
obtain for him the hand of Philumena.
THE TITLE OF THE PLAY.
Performed at the Megalensian Games ;^ M. Fulvius and
M. Glabrio being Curule ^diles.^ Ambivius Turpio and
Lucius Atilius Prasnestinus-^ performed it. Flaccus, the
freedman of Claudius,^ composed the music, to a pair of
treble flutes and bass flutes^ alternately. And it is entirely
^ The Megalensian Games) — These games were instituted at Rome
in honor of the Goddess Cybcle, when her statue was brought thither
from Pessinum, in Asia Minor, by Scipio Nasica ; they were so called
from the Greek title M.eydlri Mtjttjp, "the Great Mother." They
were called Mcgalesia or Megalensia, indifferently. A very interesting
account of the origin of these games will be found in the Fasti of Ovid.
B. iv. 1. 191, et seq.
^ Being Curule JEdiles^j — Among the other offices of the iEdiles at
Rome, it was their duty to preside at the public games, and to provide
the necessary dramatic representations for the Theatre, by making con-
tracts with the Poets and Actors.
^ Ambivius Turpio and Lucius Atilius Prcenestinus') — These persons
were the heads or managers of the company of actors who performed
the Play, and as such it was their province to make the necessary con-
tracts with the Curule ^diles. They were also actors themselves, and
usually took the leading characters. Ambivius Turpio seems to have
been a favorite with the Roman public, and to have performed for many
years ; of L. Atilius Prasnestinus nothing is known.
* Fi-eedman of Claudius) — According to some, the words, "Flaccus
Claudi" mean "the son of Claudius." It is, however, more generally
thought that it is thereby meant that he was the freedman or liberated
slave of some Roman noble of the family of the Claudii.
^ Treble flutes and bass fl,utes') — The history of ancient music,
and especially that relative to the "tibia," "pipes" or "flutes," is
replete with obscui-ity. It is not agreed what are the meanings of
the respective terms, but in the present Translation the following
theory has been adopted: The words "dextraj" and "sinistra?" denote
the kind of flute, the former being treble^ the latter bass flutes, or, as
they were sometimes called, "incentiva;" or " succentivce ;" though it
has been thought by some that they were so called because the former
were held with the right hand, the latter with the left. When two
4 THE TITLE.
Grecian.! Published — M. Marcellus and Cneius Sulpicius
being Consuls.^
treble flutes or two bass flutes were played upon at the same time, they
were called " tibiaj pares ;" but when one was " dextra" and the other
"sinistra," "tibiee impares." Hence the words "paribus dextris et
sinistris," would mean alternately with treble flutes and bass flutes.
Two " tibiaj" were often played upon by one performer at the same
time. For a specimen of a Roman " tibicen" or " piper," see the last
scene of the Stichus of Plautus. Some curious information relative to
the pipers of Rome and the legislative enactments respecting them will
be found in the Fasti of Ovid, B. vi. 1. 653, et seq.
^ It is enth-ely Grecian) — This means that the scene is in Greece,
and that it is of the kind called " palliata," as representing the manners
of the Greeks, who wore the "pallium," or outer cloak; whereas the
Romans wore the "toga." In the Prologue, Terence states that he
borrowed it from the Greek of Menander.
2 Being Consuls) — M. Claudius Marcellus and C. Sulpicius Galba were
Consuls in the year from the building of Rome 586, and B.C. 167.
ANDRIA;
THE FAIR ANDRIAK
THE SUMMAKY OF C. SULFITIUS APOLLINARIS.
Pamphilus seduces Glycerium, wrongfully supposed to be a sister of a
Courtesan, an Andrian by birth ; and she having become pi'egnant,
he gives his word that she shall be his wife ; but his father has en-
gaged for him another, the daughter of Chremes ; and when he dis-
covers the intrigue he pretends that the nuptials are about to take
place, desiring to learn what intentions his son may have. By the
advice of Davus, Pamphilus does not resist ; but Chremes, as soon as
he has seen the little child born of Glycerium, breaks off the match,
and declines him for a son-in-law. Afterward, this Glycerium, un-
expectedly discovered to he his own daughter, he bestows as a wife
on Pamphilus, the other on Charinus.
THE PROLOGUE.
The Poet, when first he applied his mind to writing, thought
that the only duty which devolved on him was, that the
Plays he should compose might please the public. But he per-
ceives that it has fallen out entirely otherwise ; for he 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.^
Now I beseech you, give your attention to the thing w^hich
they impute as a fault. Menander composed the Andrian^
^ A malevolent old Poet) — Ver. 7. He alludes to Luscus Lanuvinus,
or Lavinius, a Comic Poet of his time, but considerably his senior. Ho
is mentioned by Terence in all his Prologues except that to the Hecyra,
and seems to have made it the business of his life to run down his pi-o-
ductions and discover faults in them.
2 Composed the Andrian) — Ver. 9. Tliis Play, like that of our au-
thor, took its name from the Isle of Andro^, one of the Cyclades in the
iEgean Sea, where Glycerium is supposed to have been born. Do-
natus, the Commentator on Terence, informs us that the first Scene of
this Play is almost a literal translation from the Perinthian of Menander,
6 ANDRIA; [Act I.
and the Perinthian.^ He who knows either of them well,
will know them both; they are in plot not very different,
and yet they have been composed in different language and
style. What suited, he confesses he has transferred into
the Andrian from the Perinthian, and has employed them
as his own. These parties censure this proceeding; and on
this point they differ from Mm, that Plays ought not to be
mixed up together. By being thus knowing, do they not
show that they know nothing at all? For while they are
censuring him, they are censuring NfEvius, Plautus, and
Ennius," wliom our Poet has for his precedents ; whose care-
lessness he prefers to emulate, rather than the mystifying care-
fulness^ of those parties. . Therefore, I advise them to be quiet
in future, and to cease to slander; that they may not be
made acquainted with their own misdeeds. Be well disposed,
then ; attend with unbiased mind, and consider the matter,
that you may determine Avhat hope is left ; wlu 'her the Plays
which he shall in future compose anew, are to be witnessed,
or are rather to be driven off the stage.
ACT TPIE FIRST.
Scene I.
Enter Sii\io and Sosia, followed hj Sekvaxts carrying
jirovisions.
SiMO (to the Servants.) Do you carry those things away
in-doors; begone. (Beckoning to Sosia.) Sosia, just step
here ; I want a few words with you.
in wliich the old man was represented as discoursinfi; with his wife just
as Simo does here with Sosia. In the Andrian of Menander, the old
man opened with a sohloquy.
^ And the Perinthiaii) — Ver. 9. This Play was so called from Perin-
thus, a town of Thrace, its heroine being a native of that ])lace.
2 Ncevius, Plautus, and Ennlus) — Ver. 18. Ennius Avas the oldest of
these three Poets. Ntevius a contemporary of Plautus. See a probable
allusion to his misfortunes in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, 1. 211.
^ Tlxe mystifying carefulness) — Ver. 21. By " obscuram diligentiam"
he means that formal degree of precision which is productive of ob-
scurity.
Sc. I.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 7
SosiA. Consider it as said ; that these things are to be taken
care of, I suppose. ^
Sim. No, it's another matter.
Sos. What is there that my ability can effect for you more
than this ?
Sim. There's no need of that ability in the matter which I
have in hand ; but of those qualities which I have ever known
as existing in you, fidelity and secrecy.
Sos. I await your will.
Sim. Since I purchased yon, you know, that, from a little
child, your servitude with me has always been easy and light.
From a slave I made you my freedman ;2 for this reason, be-
cause you served me with readiness. The greatest recompense
that I possessed, I bestowed upon you.
Sos. I bear it in mind.
Sim. I am not changed
Sos. If I have done or am doing aught that is pleasing to
you, Simo, I am glad that it has been done ; and that the
same has been gratifying to yoif, I consider sufficient thanks.
But this is a cause of uneasiness to me ; for the recital is, as
it were, a censure^ to one forgetful of a kindness. But tell
me, in one Avord, what it is that you want with me.
Sim. I'll do so. In the first place, in this affair I give you
notice : this, which you suppose to be such, is not a real mar-
riage.
Sos. Why do you pretend it then ?
Sim. You shall hear all the matter from the beginning;
by that means you'll be acquainted with both my son's mode
' Are to he taken care of, I suppose^ — Ver. 30. " Nempc ut curentur
rocte lircc." Colman here remarks ; " Madame Dacier will have it that
Simo here makes use of a kitchen term in the word ' cm-entur.' I be-
lieve it rather means 'to take care of any thing generally; and at the
conclusion of this Axry scene, Sosia uses the word again, speaking of
things very foreign to cookery, ' Sat est, curabo.' "
^ To he my freedman) — Ver. 37. "Libertus" was the name given to
a slave set at liberty by his master. A "libertinus" was the son of a
''libertus."
^ As it ivere a censure) — Ver. 43. Among the Greeks (whose manners
and sentiments are supposed to be depicted in this Flay) it was a maxim
tliat he who did a kindness should forget it, while he who received it
should keep it in memory. Sosia consequently feels uneasy, and con-
siders the remark of his master in the light of a rein-oach.
8 ANDRIA ; [Act I.
of life and my own design, and what I want you to do in this
aiFair. For after he had passed youthfulness,^ Sosia, and had
obtained free scope of livingj (for before, how could you know
or understand his disposition, while youthful age, fear, and a
master^ were checking him T)
Sos. That's true.
Sim. What all young men, for the most part, do, — devote
their attention to some particular pursuit, either to training
horses or dogs for hunting, or to the philosophers;-^ in not one
of these did he engage in particular beyond the rest, and jet
in all of them in a moderate degree. I was pleased.
Sos. Not without reason ; for this I deem in life to be es-
pecially advantageous ; that one do nothing to excess.^
Sim. Such was his mode of life ; readily to bear and to
comply with all ; with whomsoever he was in company, to
them to resign himself; to devote himself to their pursuits ;
at variance with no one ; never preferring himself to them.
Thus most readily you may acquire praise without envy, and
gain friends. *
Sos. Pie has wisely laid down his rule of life ; for in these
days obsequiousness begets friends ; sincerity, dislike.
Sm. Meanwhile, three years ago,^ a certain woman from
^ After he had passed from youthfuhiess) — Ver. 51. "Ephebus" Avas
the name given to a youth when betAveen the ages of sixteen and
twenty.
2 And a master) — Ver. Bi. See the Notes to the Translation of the
Bacchides of PLautus, 1. 109, where Lydus, a slave, appears as the
"pffidagogus," or "magister," of Pistoclerus.
^ Or to the philosophers) — Ver. 57. It was the custom in Greece with
all young men of free birth to apply themselves to the study of philos-
ophy, of course with zeal proportioned to the love of learning in each.
They each adopted some particular sect, to which they attached them-
selves. There is something sarcastic here, and indeed not very re-
spectful to the "philosophers," in coupling them as objects of attraction
with horses and hounds.
* Nothing to excess) — Ver. 61. "Ne quid nimis." This was one of
the three sentences which were inscribed in golden letters in the Temple
of Apollo at Delphi. The two others were " Know thyself," and " Mis-
ery is the consequence of debt and discord." Sosia seems from the
short glimpse Ave have of him to have been a retailer of old s'aAvs and
proverbs. He is unfortunately only a Protatic or introductory charac-
ter, as Ave lose siglit of him after this Act.
* Meamvhile, three years ar/o) — Ver. 69. The folloAving remark of
Donatus on this passage is quoted by Colman for its curiosity. "The
Sc. I.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 9
Andros removed hither into this neighborhood, driven by pov-
erty and the neglect of her relations, of surpassing beauty and
in the bloom of 3'outh.
Sos. Ah! I'm afraid that this Andrian will bring some
mischief.
Soi. At first, in a modest way, she passed her life with
thriftiness and in hardship, seeking a livelihood w'ith her wool
and loom. But after an admirer made advances, promising
licr a recompense, ^?'s^ one and then another; as the disposi-
tion of all mankind has a downward tendency from industry
toward pleasure, she accepted their proposals, and then began
to trade uimn her heaiity. Those who then were her admirers,
by chance, as it often happens, took my son thither that he
might be in their company. Forthwith I said to myself, " He
is surely caught; he is smitten."^ In the morning I used to
observe their servant-boys coming or going away; I used to
make inquiry, "Here, my lad, tell me, will you, who had
Chrysis yesterday?" for that was the name of the Andrian
{touching Sosia on the arm).
Sos. I understand.
Sim. Phosdrus, or Clinias, or Niceratus, they used to say ;
for these three then loved her at the same time. " Well now,
what did Pamphilus do f " What ? He gave his contribu-
tion ;2 he took part in the dinner." Just so on another day I
made inquiry, but I discovered nothing whatever that affected
Pamphilus. In fact, I thought him sufficiently proved, and
a great pattern of continence ; for he who is brought into
Author has artfully said three years, when he might have given a
longer or a shorter period ; since it is probable that the woman might
have lived modestly one year ; set up the trade the next; and died the
third. In the first year, therefore, Pamphilus knew nothing of the
family of Chrysis ; in the second, he became acquainted with Glycei-i-'
um; and in the third, Glycerium marries Pamphilus, and finds her
parents."
^ He is smitten)— Yer. 78. "Habet," literally "He has it." This
was the expression used by the spectators at the moment when a Glad-
iator was wounded by his antagonist. In the previous line, in the words
"captus est," a figurative allusion is made to the "retiarius," a Gladi-
ator who was provided with a net, with which he endeavored to entan-
gle his opponent.
2 Gave his contribution) — Ver. 88. "Symbolam." The "symbolte,"
"shot" at picnic or club entertainments, are more than once alluded to
in the Notes to the Translation of Plautus.
A 9
10 ANDRIA ; [Act I.
contact with dispositions of that sort, and his feelings arc
not aroused even under such circumstances, you may be sure
that he is ah-eady capable of undertaking the governance of
his own life. This pleased me, and every body with one voice
began to say all kinds of flattering things, and to extol my
good fortune, in having a son endowed with such a disposi-
tion. What need is there of talking "? Chremes, influenced
by this report, came to me of his own accord, to offer his only
daugliter as a wife to ray son, with a very large portion. It
pleased me ; I betrothed him ; this was the day appointed for
the nuptials.
Sos. What then stands in the way? Why should they not
take place'?
Sim. You shall hear. In about a few days after these
things had been agreed on, Chrysis, this neighbor, dies.
Sos. Bravo! You've made me happy. I Avas afraid for
him on account of Chrysis.
Sim. Then my son was often there, with those who had
admired Chrysis; with them he took charge of the funeral;
sorrowful, in the mean time, he sometimes wept ivith them
in condolence. Then that pleased me. Thus I reflected:
"He by reason of this slight intimacy takes her death so
much to heart; what if he himself had wooed her? What
will he do for me his fiither?" All these things I took to
be the duties of a humane disposition and of tender feelings.
Why do I detain you with many ivords? Even I myself,^
for his sake, went forth to the funeral, as yet suspecting no
harm.
Sos. Ila ! what is this ?
Sim. You shall know. She is brought out ; we proceed.
In the mean time, among the females who were there
present, I saw by chance one young woman of beauteous
form.
Sos. Very likely.
Sim. And of countenance, Sosia, so modest, so charming,
that nothing could surpass. As she appeared to me to lament
beyond the rest, and as she was of a figure handsome and
genteel beyond the other women, I approached the female at-
^ Even. I myself) — Ver. IIG. Cooke remarks here : " A complaisant
father, to go to the funeral of a courtesan, merely to obhge his
Sc. L] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 11
tendants;^ I inquired who she was. They said that she was
the sister of Chrysis. It instantly struck my mind : " Ay,
ay, this is it ; hence those tears, hence that sympathy."
Sos. How I dread Avhat you are coming to !
Sim. The funeral procession meanwhile advances ; we
follow ; we come to the burying-place.- She is placed upon
the pile ; they weep. In the mean time, this sister, whom I
mentioned, approached the flames too incautiously, with <'on-
siderable danger. There, at that moment, Pamphilus, in his
extreme alarm, discovers his well-dissembled and long-hidden
passion; he runs up, clasps the damsel by the waist. "My
Glycerium," says he, "what are you doing? Why are you
going to destroy yourself f Then she, so that you might
easily recognize their habitual attachment, weeping, threw
herself back upon him — how affectionately!
Sos. What do you say ?
Sim. I returned thence in anger, and hurt at heart : and yet
there was not sufficient ground for reproving him. He might
say ; " What have I done ? How have I deserved this, or
offended, father ? She who wished to throw herself into the
flames, I prevented ; I saved her." The defense is a reasona-
ble one.
Sos. You judge aright ; for if you censure him who has
assisted to preserve life, what are you to do to him who causes
loss or misfortune to it ?
Sim. Chremes comes to me next day, exclaiming: "Dis-
graceful conduct !" — that he had ascertained that Pamphilus
was keeping this foreign woman as a wife. I steadfastly de-
nied that to be the fact. He insisted that it was the fact. In
short, I then left him refusing to bestow his daughter.
Sos. Did not you then reprove your son?
Sim. Not even this was a cause sufficiently strong for cen-
suring him.
Sos. How so? Tell me.
^ The female attendants) — Vcr. 123. "Pedisseqn£X>." These "pedis-
sequoB," or female attendants, are frequently alluded to in the Plays of
riautus. See the Notes to Bolin's Translation.
^ To the hurying-place) — Ver. 128. " Sepulcrum" strictly means, the
tomb or place for burial, but here the funeral pile itself. When the
bones were afterward buried on the spot where they were burned, it was
called "bustum."
12 ANDEIA; [AotI.
Sim. " You yourself, father," he might say ^ "have prescribed
a limit to these proceedings. The time is near, when I must
live according to the- humor of another ; meanwhile, for the
present allow me to live according to my own."
Sos. What room for reproving him, then, is there left?
Sim. If on account of his amour he shall decline to take a
wife, that, in the first place, is an offense on his part to be
censured. And now for this am I using my endeavors, that,
by means of the pretended marriage, there may be real ground
for rebuking him, if he should refuse ; at the same time, that
if that rascal Davus has any scheme, he may exhaust it now,
while his knaveries can do no harm : who, I do believe, with
hands, feet, and all his might, will do every thing ; and more
for this, no doubt, that he may do me an ill turn, than to
oblige my son.
Sos. For what reason ?
Sim. Do you ask? Bad heart, bad disposition. Whom,
however, if I do detect But what need is there of talk-
ing? If it should turn out, as I wish, that there is no delay
on the part of Pamphilus, Chremes remains to be prevailed
upon by me ; and I do hope that all will go well. Now it's
your duty to pretend these nuptials cleverly, to terrify Davus ;
and watch my son, what he's about, what schemes he is plan-
ning with him.
Sos. 'Tis enough ; I'll take care ; now let's go in-doors.
Sim. You go first ; I'll follow. (Sosia goes into the house
of SiMO.)
Sim. {to himself.) There's no doubt but that my son doesn't
wish for a wife ; so alarmed did I perceive Davus to be just
now, when he heard that there was going to be a marriage.
But the very man is coming out of the house. (Stands
aside.)
Scene II.
Enter Davus /rom the house o/'Simo.
Day. {aloud to himself.) I was wondering if this matter
was to go off thus ; and was continually dreading where my
I
So. II.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 13
master's good humor Avould end ; for, after he had heard that
a wife, would not be given to his son, he never uttered a word
to any one of us, or took it amiss.
Sim. {apart, overhearing him.) But now hell do so: and
that, I fancy, not without heavy cost to you.
Dav. {to himself.) He meant this, that we, thus unsus-
pecting, should be led away by delusive joy ; that now in hope,
all fear being removed, we miglit during our supineness be
surprised, so that there might be no time for planning a rup-
ture of the marriage. How clever !
Sim. {apart.) The villain ! what does he say?
Dav. {overhearing him, to himself.) It's my master, and I
didn't see him.
Sim. Davus.
Day. Well, what is it ?
Sim. Just step this way to me.
Dav. {to himself .) What. does he want?
Sim. What are you saying ?
Dav. About what ?
Sim. Do you ask the question ? There's a report that my
son's in love.
Dav. The public troubles itself about that,^ of course.
Sim. Will you attend to this, or not ?
Dav. Certainly, I ivill, to that.
Sim. But for me to inquire now into these matters, were
the part of a severe father. For what he has done hitherto,
doesn't concern me at all. So long as his time of life prompt-
ed to that course, I allowed him to indulge his inclination :
now this day brings on anotlicr mode of life, demands other
habits. From this time forward, I do request, or if it is rea-
sonable, I do entreat you, Dayus, that he may now return to
the right path.
Dav. {aside.) What can this mean?
Sim. All who are intriguing take it ill to have a wife given
them.
Dav. So they say.
Sim. And if any one has adopted a bad instructor in that
1 Troubles its f If about that) — Ver. 185. He suys this contemptuously,
as if it was likely that the public should take any such great interest in
his son as the father would imply by his remark. By thus saying, he
also avoids giving a direct reply.
14 AJNDRIA; [Act I.
course, be generally urges the enfeebled mind to pursuits still
more unbecoming.
Day. r faith, I do not comprehend.
Sim. No? Ha
Dav. No — I am Davus, not G^dipus.'
Sim. Of course then, you wish me to speak plainly in what
further I have to say.
Dav. Certainly, by all means,
Sim. If I this day find out that you are attempting any
trickery about this marriage, to the end that it may not take
place ; or are desirous that in this matter it should be proved
how knowing you are; I'll hand you over, Davus, beaten
with stripes, to the mill,^ even to your dying day, upon this
condition and pledge, that if ever I release you, I shall grind
in your place. Now, do you understand tliis '? Or not yet
even this?
Dav. Yes, perfectly : you hav^ now spoken so plainly upon
the subject, you have not used the least circumlocution.
Sim. In any thing would I more willingly allow myself to
be imposed upon than in this matter.
Dav. Fair words, I entreat.
Sim. You are ridicuhng me : you don't at all deceive me.
I give you warning, don't act rashly, and don't say you were
not warned. Take care. (Shakirig his stick, goes into t'ic
house.)
Scene III.
Davus alone.
Dav. (to himself.) Assuredly, Davus, there's no room for
slothfulness or inactivity, so far as I've just now ascertained
the old man's mind about the marriage ; which if it is not
provided against by cunning, will be bringing either myself or
my master to ruin. What to do, I am not determined;
wliether I should assist Pamphilus or obey the old man. If
I desert the former, I fear for his life ; if I assist him, I dread
^ Davns, not (Tulipus) — Vcr. 194. Alluding to the circumstance of
G^dipus alone being able to solve the riddle of the Sphynx.
- To the mill) — Ver. 199. The "pistrinum,"or "hand-mill," for grind-
ing corn, was used as a mode of punishment for refractory slaves. Sec
the Notes to the Translation of Plautus.
Sc. IV.] THE FAIR ANDIUAN. 15
the other's threats, on whom it will be a difficult matter to
impose. In the first place, he has nov*- found out about this
amour ; with hostile feehngs he watclies mc, lest I bhould be
devising some trickerj against the marriage. If he discovers
it, I'm undone ; or even if he chooses to allege any pretext,
whether rightfully or wrongfully, he will consign me head-
long to the mill. To these evils this one is besides added
for me. This Andrian, whether she is his wife, or whether
Ids mistress, is pregnant by Pamphilus. It is worth ^^hile
to hear their effrontery ; for it is an undertaking worthy of
those in their dotage, not of those who dote in love;^ what-
ever she shall bring forth, they have resolved to rear ;2 and
they are now contriving among themselves a certain scheme,
that she is a citizen of Attica. There was formerly a certain
old man of this place, a merchant ; he was shipwrecked
off the Isle of Andros ; he died. They say that there, the
father of Chrysis, on that occasion, sheltered this girl, thrown
on shore, an orphan, a little child. What nonsense! To
myself at least it isn't very probable ; the fiction pleases them,
however. But Mysis is coming out of the house. Now I'll
betake myself hence to the r'orum,^ that I may meet with
Pamphilus, lest his father should take him by surprise about
this matter. {Exit.
Scene IV.
Enter Mysis from the house of Glyceeium.
Mys. {speaking at the door to ArcJnjlis within.) I've heard
^ Those in their dotage, not those irho dote in love) — Ver. 218. There
is a jingle intended in this line, in the resemblance betAveen " ameuti-
um," "mad persons," and " amantium," " lovers."
^ They have resolved to rear') — Ver. 219. This passage alludes to the
custom among the Greeks of laying new-born children on the ground,
upon Avhich the father, or other person who undertook the care of the
child, lifted it from the ground, " tollebat." In case no one took charge
of the child, it was exposed, which was very frequently done in the case
of female children. Plato was the first to inveigh against this barbar-
ous practice. It is frequently alluded to in the Plays of Plautus.
- Hence to the Forum) — Ver. 226. Colman has the following remark :
"The Forum is frequently spoken of in the Comic Authors ; and from
various passages in which Terence mentions it, it may be collected that
it was a public place, serving the several purposes of a market, the seat
of the courts of justice, a public walk, and an exchange."
16 ANDRIA; [Act I.
you already, Archylis ; you request Lesbia to bo fetched,
lleally, upon my faith, she is a wine-bibbing^ and a rash
woman, and not sufficiently trustworthy for you to commit
to her care a female at her first delivery; is she still to be
brought? (She receives an answer from luithin, and comes
forward.) Do look at the inconsiderateness of the old
woman; because she is her pot-companion. Ye Gods, I
do entreat you, give her ease in her delivery, and to that
woman an opportunity of making her mistakes elsewhere
in preference. But why do I see Pamphilus so out of
spirits'? I fear what it may be. I'll wait, that I may
know whether this sorrow portends any disaster. {Stands
apart.)
'Scene V.
Enter Pamphilus, luringing his hands.
Pam. {to himself) Is it humane to do or to devise this?
Is this the duty of a father?
Mys. {apart.) "What does this mean ?
Pam. {to himself) O, by our faith in the Gods! what is,
if this is not, an indignity? He had resolved that he him-
self would give me a wife to-day ; ought I not to have known
this beforehand? Ought it not to have been mentioned pre-
viously ?
Mys. {apart.) Wretched me ! What language do I licar ?
Pam. {to himself.) What does Chremes do ? He v/ho had de-
clared that he would not intrust his daughter to me as a
wife; because he himself sees me unchanged he has changed.
Thus perversely does he lend his aid, that he may withdraw
wretched me from Glycerium. If this is effected, I am utterly
undone. That any man should be so unhappy in love, or so
unfortunate as I am! Oh, faith of Gods and men! shall 1
by no device be able to escape this alliance with Chremes?
In how many ways am I contemned, a^cZ held in scorn?
Every thing done, and concluded ! Alas ! once rejected I am
sought again ; for what reason ? Unless perhaps it is this,
^ Wine-hihhing) — Ver. 229. The nurses and midwives of anticiuity
seem to have been famed for their tippling propensities. In some of
the Plays of Plautus we do not find them spared.
Sc. v.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN.
I
which I suspect it is: they are rearing some moii Jer/ a)id
as she can not be pushed off upon any one else, they have
recourse to me.
Mys. {apart.) This language has terrified wretched me with
apprehension.
Pam. (^0 himself.) But what am I to say about my father ?
Alas! that he should so thoughtlessly conclude an affair of
such importance! Passing me in the Forum just now, ho
said, " Pamphilus, you must be married to-day : get ready ;
be off home." He seemed to me to say this : "Be off this
instant, and go hang j^ourself." I was. amazed ; think you
that I was able to utter a single word, or any excuse, even
a frivolous, false, or lame one? I was speechless. But if
any one were to ask me now what I would have done, if I
had known this sooner, why, I would have done any thing
rather than do this. But now, what course shall I first
adopt? So many cares beset me, which rend my mind to
pieces ; love, sympathy for her, the worry of this marriage ;
then, respect for my father, who has ever, until now, with
such an indulgent disposition, allowed me to do whatever was
agreeable to my feelings. Ought I to oppose him ? Ah me !
I am in uncertainty what to do.
Mys. {apart.) I'm wretchedly afraid how this uncertainty
is to terminate. But now there's an absolute necessity, either
for him to speak to her, or for me to speak to him about her.
While the mind is in suspense, it is swayed by a slight impulse
one way or the other.
Pam. {overhearing her.) Who is it speaking here % {Seeing
her.) Mysis ? Good-morrow to you.
Mys. Oh ! Good-morrow to you, Pamphilus.
Pam. How is she ?
Mys. Do you ask ? She is oppressed with grief,^ and on
this account the poor thing is anxious, because some time
^ Rearing some monster) — Ver. 250. " Aliquid monstri alimt." Ma-
dame Dacier and some other Commentators give these words the rath-
er far-fetched meaning of "They are hatching some plot." Donatus,
with much more probability, supposes him to refer to the daughter
of Chremes, whom, as the young women among the Gi'eeks were
brought up in great seclusion, we may suppose Pamphilus never to have
seen.
^ She is oppressed with grief) — Ver. 268. "Laborat a dolore."
18 ANDRIA; [Act I., Sc. V.
ago the^fiiarriage was arranged for this day. Then, too, she
fears this, that you may forsake her.
Pam. Ha ! could I attempt that ? Could I suffer her, poor
thing, to be deceived on my account? She, who has con-
fided to me her affection, and her entire existence? She,
whom I have held especially dear to my feelings as my wife ?
Shall I suffer her mind, well and chastely trained and tutor-
ed, to be overcome by poverty and corrupted? I will not
do it.
Mrs. I should have no fear if it rested with yourself alone ;
but whether you may be able to withstand compulsion
Pam. Do you deem me so cowardly, so utterly ungrateful,
inhuman, and so brutish, that neither intimacy, nor affection,
nor shame, can move or admonish me to keep faith ?
Mys. This one thing I know, that she is deserving that
you should not forget her.
Pam. Forget her? Oh Mysis, My sis, at this moment
are those words of Chrysis concerning Glycerium written on
my mind. Now at the point of death, she called me ; I went
to her ; you had withdrawn ; we were alone ; she began : " My
dear Pamphilus, you see her beauty and her ijouth ; and it is
not unknown to you to what extent both of these are now
of use to her, in protecting both her chastity and her. inter-
ests. By this right hand I do entreat you, and by your
good Genius,^ by your own fidelity, and by her bereft condi-
Colman has the following remark upon this passage: "Though the
Avord ' laborat' has tempted Donatus and the rest of the Commentators
to suppose that this sentence signifies Glycerium being in labor, I can
not help concurring with Cooke, that it means simply that she is weigh-
ed down with grief. The words immediately subsequent corroborate
this interpretation ; and at the conclusion of the Scene, when Mysis
tells him that she is going for a midwife, Pamphilus hurries her away,
as he would naturally have done here had he understood by these words
that her mistress was in labor."
^ By your good Genius) — Ver. 289. "PcrGenium tuum." This was
a common expression with the Romans, and is used by Horace, Epis-
tles, B. i., Ep. 7 :—
" Quod te per Genium dextramque Deosque Penates,
Obsecro, et obtestor "
The word "Genius" signified the tutelary God who was supposed to
attend every person from the period of his birth. The signification of
the word will be found further referred to in the Notes to the Transla-
tion of Plautus.
Act II., Sc. I.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 19
tion, do not withdraw yourself from her, or forsake her; if
I have loved you as my own brother, or if she has always
prized you above all others, or has been obedient to you in
all things. You do I give to her as a husband, friend, pro-
tector, father. This property of mine do I intrust to you,
ai^d commit to your care." She placed her in my hands;
that instant, death came upon her. I accepted her; having
accepted, I will protect her.
Mys. So indeed I hope. {Moving.)
Pam. But why are you leaving her ?
Mys. I'm going to fetch the midwife.^
Pam. Make all haste. And — do you hear? — take care,
and not one word about the marriage, lest that too should add
to her illness.
Mys. I understand. {Exeunt severally.
ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.
Enter Charinus and Byrrhia.^
Char. How say you, Byrrhia? Is she to be given in mar-
riage to Pamphilus to-day ?
Byr. It is so.
CiiAR. How do you know ?
^ To fetch the midwife) — Ver. 299. Cooke has the following remark
here : " Metliinks Mysis has loitered a little too much, considering the
business which she was sent about ; but perhaps Terence knew that some
women were of such a temper as to gossip on the way, though an affair
of Hfe or death requires their haste." Colman thus* takes him to task
for this observation: "This two-edged refiection, glancing at once on
Terence and the ladies, is, I think, very ill-founded. The delay of
Mysis, on seeing the emotion of Pamphilus, is very natural ; and her
artful endeavors to interest Pamphilus on behalf of her mistress, are
rather marks of her attention than neglect."
* Charimis and Byrrliia). We learn from Donatus that the charac-
ters of Charinus and Byrrhia were not introduced in the Avork of Me-
nander, but were added to the Play of Terence, lest Philumena's being
left without a liusband, on the marriage of Pamphilus to Glycerium,
should appear too tragical a circumstance. Diderot is of opinion that
Terence did not improve his Play by this addition.
20 ANDRIA; [Act II.
Byr. I heard it just now from Davus at the Forum.
Char. Woe unto wretched me ! ^s, hitherto, until now,
my mind has been racked amid hope and fear ; so, since hope
has been withdrawn, wearied with care, it sinks overwhelmed.
Byr. By my troth, Charinus, since that which you wish
can not come to pass, prithee, do wish that which can.
Char. I wish for nothing else but Philumena.
Byr. Alas ! How much better were it for you to endeavor
to expel that passion from your mind, than to be saying that
by which your desire is to no purpose still more inflamed.
Char. We all, when we are well, with ease give good ad-
vice to the sick. If you were in my situation, you would
think otherwise.
Byr. Well, well, just as you like.
Char, {looking dow7i the side scene.') But I see Pamphilus ;
I'm determined I'll try every thing before I despair.
Byr. {aside,) What does he mean 1
Char. I will entreat his own self; T will supplicate him ;
I will disclose to him my love. ML think that I shall prevail
upon him to put off the marriage for some days at least ; in
the mean time, something will turn up, I trust.
Byr. That something is nothing.
Char. Byrrhia, how seems it to you ? Shall I accost him %
Byr. Why not % Should^ you not prevail, that at least he
may look upen you as a gallant ready provided for him, if he
marries her.
Char. Away with you to perdition with that vile sugges-
tion, you rascal I
Scene II.
Enter Pampihlus.
Pam. I espy Charinus. {Accosting him) Good-morrow !
Char. O, good-morrow. Pamphilus, I'm come to you,
seeking hope, safety, counsel, and assistance.
Pam. I'faith, I have neither time for counsel, nor resources
for assistance. But what's the matter now?
Char. To-day you are going to take a wife ?
Pam. So they say.
Char. Pamphilus, if you do that, you behold me this day
for the last time.
Sc. II.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN, 21
Pam. Why so?
Char. Ah me I I dread to tell it; prithee, do you tell it
Byrrhia.
Bye. I'll tell it.
Pam. What is it?
Bye. He's in love with your betrothed.
Pam. Assuredly he's not of my way of thinking. Come
now, tell me, have you had any more to do with her, Charinus %
Char. Oh Pamphilus, nothing.
Pam. How much I wish you had.
Char. Now, by our friendship and by my affection, I do
beseech you, in the first place, not to marry her.
Pam. For my own part I'll use my endeavors.
Char. But if that can not be, or if this marriage is agree-
able to you
Pam. Agreeable to me ?
Char. Put it off for some days at least, while I go else-
where, that I may not be witness.
Pam. Now listen, once for all : I think it, Charinus, to be
by no means the part of an ingenuous man, when he confers
nothing, to expect that it should be considered as an obliga-
tion on his part. I am more desirous to avoid this match,
than you to gain it. ^ " ^
Char. You have restored me to life. ^jf,
Pam. Now, if you can do any thing, either j^IxT yourself, or
Byrrhia here, manage, fabricate, invent, contrive some means,
whereby she may be given to you; this I shall aim at, how
she may not be given to me.
Char. I am satisfied.
Pam. Most opportunely I perceive Davus, on whose advice
I have depended.
Char, {turning to Byrrhia.) But you, i'faith, tell me no-
thing,^ except those things which there is no need for know-
ing. {Pushing him away,) Get you gone from here.
Byr. Certainly I ivill, and with all my heart. {Exit.
' Tell me nothing) — Ver. 336. It has been suggested that this refers
to Byrrhia's dissuading his master from addressing Pamphilus, or else
to what he has told him concerning the intended marriage. Wester-
hovius thinks that Byrrhia is just then whispering some trifling non-
sense in his master's ear, which he, occupied with more important
cares, is unwilling to attend to.
22 ANDRIA; [Act 11.
Scene III,
Enter Davus in haste.
Dav. {not seeing Pampiiilus and Chakinus.) Ye gracious
Gods, what good news I bring ! But where shall I find Pam-
philus, that I may remove the apprehension in which lie now
is, and fill his mind with joy ?
Char, {apart to Pampiiilus.) He's rejoiced about some-
thing, I don't know what.
Pam. (apart.) It's of no consequence; he hasn't yet heard
of these misfortunes.
Dav. (to Jiimself.) For I do believe now, if he has already
heard that a marriage is prepared for him
CiiAK. {apart.') Don t you hear him %
Dav. {to himself.) He is seeking me distractedly all the city
over. But where shall I look for him % Or in which direc-
tion now first to betake me
Char, {apart to Pampiiilus.) Do you hesitate to accost
him?
Dav. {to himself.) I have it. {Moving on.)
Pam. Davus, come here ! Stop !
Dn-V. Who's the person that's {Turning romid.) O
Pamphilus, you are the very man I'm looking for. AVell
done, Charinus ! both in the nick of time : I want you both.
CiiAR. Davus, I'm undone !
Dav. Nay but, do hear this.
Pam. I'm utterly ruined !
Dav. I know what you are afraid of
Char. I'faith, my life indeed is really in danger.
Dav. {to Charinus.) And what you are afraid of I know.
Pam. My marriage
Dav. As if I did not know it ?
Pam. This day
Dav. Why keep dinning me ivith it, when I know it all?
{To Pamphilus.) This are you afraid of, lest you should marry
her ; and you {to Charinus,) lest you should not marry her.
Char. You understand the matter.
Pam. That's the very thing.
Dav. And that very thing is in no danger; trust me for
that.
Sc. III.] THE FAIK ANDRIAN. 23
Pam. I do entreat you, release wretched me as soon as pos-
sible from this apprehension.
Dav. Well, then, I will release you ; Chremes is not going
to give you his daughter at present.
Pam. How do you know ?
Dav. You shall know. Your father just now laid hold
of me ; he said that a wife was to be given you to-day, and
many other things as well, which just now I haven't time
to relate. Hastening to you immediately, I ran on to the
Forum that I might tell you these things. When I didn't
find you, I ascended there to a high place. ^ I looked
around ; you were nowhere. There by chance I saw Byrrhia,
his servant {■pointing to Ciiarinus). I inquired of him ;
he said he hadn't seen you. This puzzled me. I consid-
ered what I was to do. As I was returning in the mean
time, a surmise from the circumstances themselves occurred
to me: "How now, — a very small amount of good cheer;
he out of spirits ; a marriage all of a sudden ; these things
don't agree."
Pam. But to what purpose this ?
Dav. I forthwith hetooh myself to the house of Chremes.
When I arrived there — stillness before the door f- then I was
pleased at that.
CiiAK. You say well.
Pam. Proceed.
Dav. I stopped there. In the mean time I saw no one
going in, no one going out ; no matron at the house,^ no
preparation, no bustle. I drew near ; looked in
- To a high place) — Vcr. 35G. He probably alhides to some part of
the Acropolis, the citadel, or higher part of Athens, which commanded
a view of the lower town.
^ Stillness before the door) — Ver. 362. Madame Dacier observes that
this remark is very appropriately made by Davus, as showing that the
marriage was clearly not intended by Chremes. The house of the
bride on such an occasion would be thronged by her friends, and at the
door would be the musicians and those who were to form part of the
bridal procession.
^ No matron at the house) — Ver. 364. By the use of the word " ma-
trona," he probably alludes to the "pronuba?" among the Romans,
whose duties were somewhat similar to those of our bride's-maids. At
the completion of the bridal repast, the bride was conducted to the
bridal chamber by matrons who had not had more than one husband.
24 ANDRIA; [Act IL
Pam. I understand ; a considerable indication.
Day. Do these things seem to accord with a wedding ?
Pam. I think not, Davus.
Day. Think, do you say? You doi^'t view it rightly: the
thing is certain. Besides, coming away from there I saw the
servant-boy of Chremes carrying some vegetables and little
fishes, an obol's worth, ^ for the old man's dinner.
Char. This day, Davus, have I been delivered by your
means.
Dav. And yet not at all.
Char. Why so? Surely he will not give her to him, after
all this. {Pointing to Pamphilus.)
Dav. You silly fellow ! as though it were a necessary con-
sequence that if he doesn't give her to him you should marry
her : unless, indeed, you look about you ; unless you entreat
and make court to the old man's friends.
Char. You advise well. I'll go ; although, upon my faith,
this hope has often eluded me already. Farewell !
{Exit.
Scene IV.
Pamphilus and Davus.
Pam. AVhat then does my father mean? Why does he
thus make pretense ?
Dav. I'll tell you. If now he were angry ivith you, be-
cause Chremes will not give you a wife, he would seem to
himself to be unjust, and that not without reason, before 1^
has ascertained your feelings as to the marriage, how they
are disposed. But if you refuse to marry her, in that case
he will transfer the blame to you ; then such disturbances
will arise. •>'
Pam. I will submit to any ihmg from him.
Dav. He is your father, Pamphilus. It is a difficult mat-
ter. Besides, this woman is defenseless. No sooner said
^ An ohoVs worth) — Ver. 369. The " obolus" was the smallest Greek
silver coin, and Avas equal in value to about three halfpence of our mon-
ey. "Pisciculi minuti," "little fish," were much used for food among
the poorer classes; "mena," a fish resembling our pilchard, was a com-
mon article of food with the Romans. The larger kinds of fish went
under the general name of "cetum."
Sc. IV.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 25
than done; he will find some pretext for driving her away
from the city.
Pam. Driving her away ?
Dav. Aye, and quickly too.
Pam. Tell me then, Davus, what am I to do ?
Dav. Say that you will marry her.
^ Pam. {starting.) Ha !
Dav. What's the matter ?
Pam. What, am I to say so ?
Dav. Why not?
Pam. Never will I do it.
Dav. Don't say so.
Pam. Don't attempt to persuade me.
Dav. Consider what will be the result of it.
Pam. That I shall be deprived of the one, and fixed with
the other.
Dav. Not so. In fact, I think it will be thus : Your fa-
ther will say: "I wish you to marry a wife to-day." You
reply : " I'll marry her." Tell me, how can he raise a quarrel
with you % Thus you will cause all the plans which are now
arranged by him to be disarranged, without any danger ; for
this is not to be doubted, that Chremes will not give you his
daughter. Therefore do not hesitate in those measures which
you are taking, on this account, lest he should change his
sentiments. Tell your father that you consent; so that al-
though he may desire it, he may not be able to be angry at
you with reason. For that which you rely on, I will easily
refute ; " No one," you think, " will give a wife to a pei^son of
these habits." But he will find a beggar for you, rather than
allow you to be corrupted by a mistress. If, however, he shall
believe that you bear it with a contented mind, you will render
hin^jindifferent ; at his leisure he will look out for another tuife
for you ; in the mean time something lucky may turn up.
Pam. Do you think so %
Dav. It really is not a matter of doubt.
Pam. Consider to what you are persuading me.
Dav. Nay, but do be quiet.
Pam. Well, I'll say it ; but, that he mayn't come to know
that she has had a child by me, is a thing to be guarded
against ; for I have promised to bring it up.
Dav. Oh, piece of effrontery.
B
26 ANDRIA; [Act 11.
Pam. She entreated me that I would give her this pledge,
by which she might be sure she should not l)e deserted.
Day. It shall be attended to; but your father's coming.
Take care that he doesn't perceive that you are out of spirits.
Scene V.
Enter Simo, at a distance.
Sim. (ajiari to himself.) I've come back to see what they
are about, or what scheme they are hatching.
Day. (to Pamphilus.) He has no doubt at present but
that you'll refuse to marry. Having considered his course,
he's come from a retired spot somewhere or otlier ; he hopes
that he has framed a speech by which to disconcert you ; do
you take care, then, to be yourself.
Pam. If I am only able, Davus.
Day. Trust me for that, Pamphilus, I tell you ; your father
will never this day exchange a single word with you, if you
say that you will marry.
Scene VI.
JUntej^ Byrkhia, unperceived, at a distance behind SiMO.
Byr. (apart to himself.) My master has ordered me, leaving
my business, to keep an eye on Pamphilus to-day, what he
is doing with regard to the marriage. I was to learn it ; for
that reason, I have now followed him^ {pointing to Simo) as
^ I have noio followed Mm) — Vcr. 414. "Hmic venientem sequor."
Cooke has the following remark on this line : " This verse, though in ev-
ery edition, as Bentley judiciously observes, is certainly spurious ; for
as Pamphilus has not disappeared since Byrrhia left the stage, he could
not say ' nunc hunc venientem sequor.' If vfo, suppose the line genu-
ine, "we must at the same time suppose Terence guilty of a monstrous
absurdity." On these words Colman makes the following just observa-
tions : " Other Commentators have also stumbled at this passage ; but
if in the words 'followed Mm hither,' we suppose ^ Mm' (hunc) to refer
to Simo, the difficulty is removed ; and that the pronoun really does
signify Simo, is evident from the circumstance of Pamphilas never
having left the stage since the disappearance of Byrrhia. Simo is also
represented as coming on the stage homeward, so that Byrrhia might
easily have followed him along the street ; and it is evident that Byrrhia
does not allude to Pamphilus from the agreeable surprise which he ex-
presses on seeing him there so opportunely for the purpose."
Sc. VLl THE EAIK ANDRIAN. 27
he came hither. Himself, as well, I see standing with Davus
close at hand ; I'll note this.
Sim. {ajxirt to himself.) I see that both of them are here.
Dav. {in a low voice to Pamphilus.) Now then, be on
your guard.
Sim. Pamphilus!
Dav. {in a low voice.) Look round at him as though taken
unawares.
Pam. {turning round sharply.) What, my father!
Dav. {in a low voice. ) Capital !
Sim. I wish you to marry a v/ife to-day, as I was
saying.
ByR. {apart.) Now I'm in dread for our side, as to what
he will answer.
F^m. Neither in that nor in any thing else shall you ever
find any hesitation in me.
Bye. {apart.) Hah!
Dav. {in a low voice to Pamphilus.) He is struck dumb.
Byk. {apart.) What a speech !
Sim. You act as becomes you, when that which I ask I
obtain with a good grace.
Dav. {aside to Pamphilus.) Am I right ?
Byk. My master, so far as I learn, has missed his wife.
Sim. Now, then, go in-doors, that you mayn't be causing
delay when you are wanted.
Pam. I'll go. {Goes into the house.)
Byk. {apart.) Is there, in no case, putting trust in any
man ? That is a true proverb which is wont to be commonly
quoted, that " all had rather it to be well for themselves than
for another." I remember noticing, when I saw her, that she
was a young woman of handsome figure ; wherefore I am the
more disposed to excuse Pamphilus, if he has preferred that he
himself, rather than the other, should embrace her in his slum-
bers. I'll carry back these tidings, that, in return for this
evil he may inflict evil upon me.^ {Exit.
"^ Inflict evil upon me) — Ver. 431. "Malum;" the usual name by
which slaves spoke of the beatings they were in the habit of receiving
at the hands or by the order of their irascible masters. Colman has
the following remarks: "Donatus observes on this Scene between
Byrrhia, Simo, Pamphilus, and Davus, that the dialogue is sustained
by four persons, who have little or no intercourse with each oth«r ; so
28 ANDRIA ; [Act IL, Sc. VII.
Scene VII.
SiMO and Davus.
Day. {aside, coming away from the door of the house.) He
now supposes that I'm bringing some trick to bear against
him, and that on that account I've remained here.
Sim. What does he say, Davus^^
Dav. Just as much as nothing.^
Sim. What, nothing? Eh?
Dav. Nothing at all.
Sim. And yet I certainly was expecting something.
Dav. It has turned out contrary to your expectatipns.
(Aside.) I perceive it ; this vexes the man.
Sim. Are you able to tell me the truth ?
Dav. I? Nothing more easy.
Sim. Is this marriage at all disagreeable to him, on account
of his intifxiacy with this foreign woman %
Dav. No, faith ; or if at all, it is a two or three days' an-
noyance this — you understand. It will then cease. More-
over, he himself has thought over this matter in a proper way.
Sim. I commend him.
that the Scene is not only in direct contradiction to the precept of Hor-
ace, excluding a fourth person, but is also otherwise vicious in its con-
struction. Scenes of this kind are, I think, much too frequent in Ter-
ence, though, indeed, the form of the ancient Theatre was more adapt-
ed to the representation of them than the modern. The multiplicity
of speeches aside is also the chief error in this dialogue ; such speeches,
though very common in dramatic writers, ancient and modern, being
always more or less unnatural."
^ What does he say, Davusf) — Ver. 434. "Quid, Dave, nan-at?"
This reading Vollbehr suggests in place of the old one, "Quid Davus
narrat ?" and upon good grounds, as it appears. According to the lat-
ter reading we are to suppose that Davus is grumbling to himself, on
which Simo says, "What does Davus say?" It seems, however, much
more likely that Davus accompanies Pamphilus to the door, and speaks
to him before he goes in, and then, on his return to Simo, the latter
asks him, " What does he say, Davus ?"
' Just as much as nothing) — Ver. 434. " ^que quidquam nunc qui-
dem." This is a circumlocution for "nothing at all :" somewhat more
literally perhaps, it might be rendered "just as much as before." Per-
izonius supplies the ellipsis with a long string of Latin words, which
translated would mean, " Now, indeed, he says equally as much as he
says then, when he says nothing at all."
Act III., Sc. I.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 29
Day. While it was allowed him, and while his years
prompted him, he intrigued; even then it was secretly. He
took precaution that that circumstance should never be a
cause of disgrace to him, as behooves a man of principle ; now
that he must have a wife, he has set his mind upon a wife.
Sim. He seemed to me to be somewhat melancholy in a
slight degree.
Day. Not at all on account of her, but there's something
he blames you for.
Sim. What is it, pray %
Dav. It's a childish thing.
Sim. What is it?
Dav. Nothing at all.
Sim. Nay but, tell me what it is.
Dav. He says that you are making too sparing preparations.
Sim. What, I?
Dav. You. — He says that there has hardly been fare pro-
vided to the amount of ten drachmas.^ — " Does he seem to be
bestowing a wife on his son ? Which one now, in preference,
of my companions shall I invite to the dinner f And, it
must be owned, you really are providing too parsimoniously
— I do not commend you.
Sim. Hold your tongue.
Dav. (aside.) I've touched him up.
Sim. I'll see that these things are properly done. (Davus
goes into the house.) What's the meaning of this? What
does this old rogue mean ? But if there's any knavery here,
why, he's sure to be the source of the mischief {Goes into
his Jtouse,)
ACT THE THIRD.
Scene I.
Enter Simo and Davus from the house of the former. Mysis
and Lesbia are coming toward the house of Glycerium.
Mys. {not seeing Simo and Davus.) Upon my faith, the
fact is really as you mentioned, Lesbia, you can hardly find
a man constant to a woman.
' Amount often drachnce) — Ver. 451. The Attic drachma was a sil-
ver coin worth in value about ^Id. of English money.
30 ANDRIA; [Act III.
Sim. {apart to Davus.) This maid-servant comes from the
Andrian.
Day. {apart to Simo.) What do you say?
Sim. {apart to Davus.) It is so.
Mys. But this Pamphilus
Sim. {apart to Dxvvus.) What is she saying?
Mys. Has proved his constancy.
Sim. {apart.) Hah !
Dav. {apart to himself.) I wish that either he were deaf,
or she struck dumb.
Mys. For the child she brings forth, he has ordered to be
brought up.
Sim. {apart.) O Jupiter! What do I hear! It's all over,
if indeed this woman speaks the truth.
Les. You mention a good disposition on the part of the
young man.
Mys. a most excellent one. But follow me in-doors, that
you mayn't keep her waiting.
Les. I'll follow. (Mysis and Lesbia go into Glycerium's
house.)
Scene II.
Simo and Davus.
Dav. {aside.) What remedy now shall I find for this
mishap?
Sim. {to himself aloud.) What does this mean? Is he so
infatuated ? The child of a foreign woman ? Now I under-
stand ; ah ! scarcely even at last, in my stupidity, have I
found it out. v
Dav. {aside to himself) What does he say he has found out?
Sim. {aside.) This piece of knavery is being now for the
first time palmed upon me by this fellow; they are pre-
tending that she's in labor, in order that they may alarm
Chremes.
Gly. {exclaiming from within her house.) Juno Lucina,^
grant me thine aid, save me, I do entreat thee !
Sim. Whew! so sudden? What nonsense! As soon
^ Juno Lucina) — Ver. 473. Juno Lucina had the care of women in
childbed. Under this name some suppose Diana to have been wor-
shiped. A similar incident to the present is found in the Adelphi,
1. 486 ; and in the Aulularia of Plautus, 1, 646.
I
Sc. IV.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 31
as she has heard that I'm standing before the door, she makes
all haste. These incidents, Davus, have not been quite happi-
ly adapted by you as to the points of time.
Dav. By me ?
Sim. Are your scholars forgetful?^
Dav. I don't know what you are talking about.
Sim. (aside.) If he at the real marriage of my son had tak-
en me off my guard, what sport he would have made of me.
Now it is at his own risk ; I'm sailing in harbor.
Scene III.
Re-enter Lesbia from the house of Glycerium.
Les. {speaking to Archylis at the door, and not seeing Simo
and Davus.) As yet, Archylis, all the customary symptoms
which ought to exist toward recovery, I perceive in her.
Now, in the first place, take care and let her bathe -^ then,
after that, what I ordered to be given her to drink, and as
much as I prescribed, do you administer : presently I will re-
turn hither. (To herself aloud.) By all that's holy, a fine
boy has been born to Pamphilus. I pray the Gods that he
may survive, since the father himself is of a good disposition,
and since he has hesitated to do an injustice to this most ex-
cellent young woman. {Exit.
Scene IV.
Simo and Davus.
Sim. Even this, who is there that knows you that would
not believe that it originated in you %
Dav. Why, what is this?
Sim. She didn't order in their presence what was requisite
to be done for the woman lying in ; but after she has come out,
she bawls from the street to those who are in the house. O
Davus, am I thus trifled with by you ? Or pray, do I seem
to you so very well suited to be thus openly imposed upon
' Are your scholars forgetfid?) — Yer. 477. He aHudes under this
term to Mysis, Lesbia, and Pamphilus, whom he supposes Davus to have
been training to act their parts in the plot against him.
^ Let her bathe) — Ver. 483. It was the custom for women to bathe
immediately after childbirth. See the Amphitryon of Plautus, 1. G61),
and the Note to the passage in Bohn's Translation.
32 ANDRIA; [Act III.
by your tricks ? At all events it should have been witli pre-
caution ; that at least I might have seemed to be feared, if I
should detect it.
Day. (aside.) Assuredly, upon my faith, it's he that's now
deceiving himself, not I.
Sim. I gave you warning, I forbade you with threats to do
it. Have you been awed? What has it availed? Am I to
believe you now in this, that this woman has had a child by
Pamphilus ?
Day. (aside.) I understand where he's mistaken ; and I
see what I must do.
Sim. Why are you silent ?
Day. What would you believe ? As though word had not
been brought you that thus it would happen.
Sim. Any ivoixl brought to me 1
Day. Come now, did you of your own accord perceive that
this was counterfeited ?
Sim. I am being trifled with-
Day. Word has been brought you ; for otJierwise how could
this suspicion have occurred to you?
Sim. How? Because I knew you.
Day. As though you meant to say that this has been done
by my contrivance.
Sim. Why, I'm sure of it, to a certainty.
Day. Not yet even do you know me sufficiently, Simo,
what sort of person I am.
Sim. I, not know you !
Day. But if I begin to i^Wyou any thing, at once you think
that deceit is being practiced upon you in guile; therefore,
upon my faith, I don't dare now even to whisper.^
Sim. This one thing I am sure of, that no person has been
delivered here. (Pointing to Glycerium's house.)
Day. You have discovered that"? Still, not a bit the less
will they presently be laying the child^ here before the door.
Of this, then, I now warn you, master;, that it will happen,
^ Be laying the child) — Ver. 507. Colman has the following remark
on this line: — "The art of this passage is equal to the pleasantry, for
though Davus runs into this detail merely with a view to dupe the old
man still further by flattering him on his fancied sagacity, yet it veiy
naturally prepares us for an incident which, by another turn of circum-
stances, afterward becomes necessary."
Sc. IV.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 33
that you may be aware of it. Don't you hereafter be saying
that this was done through the advice or artifices of Davus.
I wish this suspicion of yours to be entirely removed from
myself.
Sim. How do you know that ?
Dav. I've heard so, and I believe it : many things combine
for me to form this conjecture. In the first place then, she
declared that she was pregnant by Pamphilus ; that has been
proved to be false. ^ Now, when she sees that preparations
are being made for the wedding at our house, the maid-servant
is directly sent to fetch the midwife to her, and to bring a
child at the same time.^ Unless it is managed for you to see
the child, the marriage will not be at all impeded.
Sim. What do you say to this? When you perceived that
they were adopting this plan, why didn't you tell Pamphilus
immediately ?
Dav. Why, who has induced him to leave her, but myself?
For, indeed, we all know how desperately he loved her. Now
he wishes for a wife. In fine, do you intrust me with that
affair ; proceed however, as before, to celebrate these nuptials,
just as you are doing, and I trust that the Gods will prosper
this matter.
Sim. Very well ; be off in-doors ; wait for me there, and get
ready what's necessary to be prepared. (Davus goes into the
house.) He hasn't prevailed upon me even now altogether to
believe these things, and I don't know whether what he has
said is all true ; but I deem it of little moment ; this is of far
greater importance to me — that my son himself has promised
me. Now I'll go and find Chremes ; I'll ask him for a wife
for my son ; if I obtain my request, at what other time rather
than to-day should I prefer these nuptials taking place ? For
as my son has promised, I have no doubt but that if he should
prove unwilling, I can fairly compel him. And look ! here's
Chremes himself, just at the very time.
^ Proved to he false) — ^Ver. 513. That is, according to Simo's own
notion, which Davus now thinks proper to humor.
^ To bring a child at the same time) — Ver. 515. This is a piece of
roguery wliich has probably been practiced in all ages, and was some-
what commonly perpetrated in Greece. The reader of English history
will remember how the unfortunate son of James II. was said, in the
face of the strongest evidence to the contrary, to have been a suppositi-
tious child brought into the queen's chamber in a silver warming-pan.
P> 2
34 ANDRIA; [Act III.
Scene V.
Enter Chremes.
Sim. I greet you, Chremes.
Chrem. O, you are the very person I was looking for.
Sim. And I for you.
CiiREM. You meet me at a welcome moment. Some per-
sons have been to me, to say that they had heard from you,
that my daughter was to be married to your son to-day ; I've
come to see whether they are out of their senses or you.
Sim, Listen ; in a few words you shall learn both what I
want of you, and what you seek to know.
Chrem. I am listening ; say what you wish.
Sim. By the Gods, I do entreat you, Chremes, and hj our
friendship, which, commencing with our infancy, has grown
up with our years, and by your only daughter and by my own
son (of preserving whom the entire power lies with you), that
you will assist me in this matter ; and that, just as this mar-
riage was about to be celebrated, it may be celebrated.
Chrem. O, don't importune me; as though you needed to
obtain this of me by entreaty. Do you suppose I am differ-
ent now from what I was formerly, when I promised her?
If it is for the advantage of them both that it should take
place, order her to be sent for. But if from this course there
would result more harm than advantage for each, this I do
beg of you, that you will consult for their common good, as
though she were your own daughter, and I the father of
Pamphilus.
Sim. Nay, so I intend, and so I wish it to be, Chremes ;
and I would not ask it of you, did not the occasion itself re-
quire it.
Chrem. What is the matter?
Sim. There is a quarrel between Glycerium and my son.
Chrem. {ironically.) I hear you.
Sim. So much so, that I'm in hopes they may be separated.
Chrem. Nonsense!
Sim. It really is so.
Chrem. After this fashion, i'faith, I tell you, " the quarrels
of lovers are the renewal of love."
Sc. v.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 35
Sim. Well — this I beg of yoa, that we may prevent it.
While an opportunity offers, and while his passion is cooled
by affronts, before the wiles of these women and their tears,
craftily feigned, bring back his love-sick mind to compassion,
let us give him a wife. I trust, Chremes, that, when attach-
ed by intimacy and a respectable marriage, he will easily ex-
tricate himself from these evils.
CiiREM. So it appears to you; but I do not think^ that
either he can possibly hold to her with constancy, or that I
can put up with it if he does not.
Sim. How then can you be sure of that, unless you make
the experiment?
Chrem. But for that experiment to be made upon a daugh-
ter is a serious thing
Sim. Why look, all the inconvenience in fine amounts to
this — possibly, which may the Gods forfend, a separation may
take place. But if he is reformed, see how many are the ad-
vantages : in the first place, you will have restored a son to
your triend ; you will obtain a sure son-in-law^ for yourself,
and a husband for your daughter.
Chrem. What is one to say to all this? If you feel per-
suaded that this is beneficial, I don't wish that any advantage
should be denied you.
Sim. With good reason, Chremes, have I always considered
you a most valuable friend.
Chrem. But how say you ?"
Sim. V\liat?
Chrem. How do you know that they are now at variance ?
Sim. Davus himself, who is privy to all their plans, has
told me so ; and he advises me to expedite the match as fast
as I can. Do you think he would do so, unless he was aware
that my son desired it? You yourself as well shall presently
hear what he says. (^Goes to the door of his house and calls.)
^ But I do not think) — Vcr. 563-4. "At ego non posse arbitror
neque ilium banc perpetuo habere." Chremes uses an ambiguous ex-
pression here, perhaps purposely. It may mean, "I do not think that
he can possibly be constant to her," or, " that she will continue to live
with him."
2 A sure so7i-in-laiv) — Yer. 571. By the use of the word "firmum,"
he means a son-in-law who will not be likely to resort to divorce or
separation from bis wife.
36 ANDRIA ; [Act III.
Halloo there ! Call Davus out here. Look, here he is ; I see
him just coming out.
Scene VL
Enter Daws from the house.
Dav. I was coming to you.
Sim. Why, what's the matter 1
Dav. Why isn't the bride sent forl^ It's now growing
late in the day.
Sim. Do you hear me ? I've been for some time not a lit-
tle apprehensive of you, Davus, lest you should do that which
the common class of servants is in the habit of doing, namely,
impose upon me by your artifices ; because ray son is engaged
in an amour.
Dav. What, I do that?
Sim. I fancied so ; and therefore, fearing that, I concealed
from you what I shall now mention.
Dav. AVhatI
Sii\L You shall know; for now I almost feel confidence
in you.
Dav. Have you found out at last what sort of a person I
am?
Sim. The marriage was not to have taken place.
Dav. How ? Not to have taken place ?
Sim. But I was making pretense, that I might test you
all.
Dav. (affecting surprise.) What is it you tell me ?
Sim. Such is the fact.
Dav. Only see! I was not able to discover that. Dear
me ! what a cunning contrivance !
Sim. Listen to this. Just as I ordered you to go from here
into the house, he {pointing to Chremes) most opportunely
met me.
^ Why isrit the bride sent for ?) — Ver. 582. Among the Greeks the
bride was conducted by the bridegroom at nightfall from her father's
house, in a chariot drawn by a pair of mules or oxen, and escorted by
persons carrying the nuptial torches. Among the Romans, she pro-
ceeded in the evening to the bridegroom's house ; preceded by a boy
carrying a torch of white thorn, or, according to some, of pine-wood.
To this custom reference is indirectly made in the present passage.
Sc. VII.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 37
D AV. (aside. ) Ha ! Are we undone, then ?
Sim. I told him what you just now told me.
Dav. (aside.) Why, what am I to hear?
Sim. I begged him to give his daughter, and with difficulty
I prevailed upon him.
Dav. (aside.) Utterly ruined!
Sim. (overhearing him speaking.) Eh — What was it you said?
Dav. Extremely well done, I say.
Sim. There's no delay on his part now.
Chkem. I'll go home at once ; I'll tell her to make due
preparation, and bring back word here. (Exit,
Sim. Now I do entreat you, Davus, since you by yourself
have brought about this marriage for me
Dav. I myself, indeed ! ^
Sim. Do your best still to reform my son.
Dav. Troth, I'll do it with all due care.
Sim. Do it now, while his mind is agitated.
Dav. You may be at ease.
Sim. Come then; where is he just now?
Dav. a wonder if he isn't at home.
Sim. I'll go to him ; and what I've been telling you, I'll
tell him as well. (Goes into his house.)
Scene VIL
Davus alone,
Dav. (to himself.) I'm a lost man ! What reason is there
why I shouldn't take my departure straightway hence for the
mill ? There's no room left for supplicating ; I've upset every
thing now; I've deceived my master; I've plunged my mas-
ter's son into a marriage ; I've been the cause of its taking
place this very day, without his hoping for it, and against the
wish of Pamphilus. Here's cleverness for you ! But, if I had
kept myself quiet, no mischief would have happened. (Start-
ing.) But see, I espy him ; I'm utterly undone ! Would that
there were some spot here for me, from which I might this in-
stant pitch myself headlong ! (Stands apart.)
^ I myself indeed!) — Ver. 597. No doubt Davus says these words in
sorrow and regret; Simo, however, supposes them to be uttered in ex-
ultation at the apparent success of his plans. Consequently "vero" is
intended by Davus to have the sense here of " too truly."
38 ANDRIA ; [Act III., Sc. VIII.
Scene VIII.
Enter Pamphilus m haste from Simo's house.
Pam. Where is he? The villain, who this day I'm
ruined; and I confess that this has justly befallen me, for
being such a dolt, so devoid of sense ; that I should have in-
trusted my fortunes to a frivolous slave ! • I am suffering the
reward of my folly ; still he shall never get off from me un-
punished for this.
Dav. {apart.) I'm quite sure that I shall be safe in future,
if for the present I get clear of this mishap.
Pam. But what now am I to say to my father? Am I to
deny that I am ready, who have just promised to marry?
With what effrontery could I presume to do that? I know
not what to do with myself.
Dav. (apart) Nor I with myself, and yet I'm giving all
due attention to it. I'll tell him that I will devise something,
in order that I may procure some respite in this dilemma.
Pam. [catching sight of him.) Oho !
Dav. {apart.) I'm seen.
Pam. {sneeringhj.) How now, good sir, what are you about ?
Do you see how dreadfully I am hampered by your devices ?
Dav. Still, I'll soon extricate you.
Pam. You, extricate me .?
Dav. Assuredly, Pamphilus.
Pam. As you have just done, I suppose.
Dav. Why no, better, I trust.
Pam. What, am I to believe you, you scoundrel ?2 You,
indeed, make good a' matter that's all embarrassment and
' To a frivolous slave) — Ver. 610. " Servo futili." According to the
Scholiast on the Thebais of Statins, B. viii. 1. 297, *'vas futile" was a
kind of vessel with a broad mouth and narrow bottom, used in the rites
of Vesta. It was made of that peculiar shape in order that the priest
should be obliged to hold it during the sacrifices, and might not set it
on the ground, which was considered profane ; as, if set there, the con-
tents must necessarily fall out. From this circumstance, men who
could not contain a secret were sometimes called " fntiles."
^ You scoundrel) — Ver. 619. "Furcifer;" literally, wearer of the
" furca," or wooden collar. This method of punishment has been re-
ferred to in the Notes to the Translation of Plautus.
Act IV., Sc. L] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 39
ruin ! Just see, in whom I've been placing reliance — ^you who
this day from a most happy state have been and plunged me
into a marriage. Didn't I say that this would be the case ?
Dav. You did say so.
Pam. What do you deserve?^
Dav. The cross.^ But allow me a little time to recover
myself; I'll soon hit upon something.
Pam. Ah me ! not to have the leisure to inflict punishment
upon you as I desire ! for the present conjuncture warns me
to take precautions for myself, not to be taking vengeance on
you. {Exeunt.
ACT THE FOURTH.
Scene I.
I" Enter Ciiakinus, ivringing his hands.
Char, {to himself.) Is this to be believed or spoken of ;
that malice so great could be inborn in any one as to exult
at misfortunes, and to derive advantage from the distresses
of another! Oh, is this true? Assuredly, that is the most
dangerous class of men, in whom there is only a slight de-
gree of hesitation at refusing ; afterward, when the time ar-
rives for fulfilling their promises, then, obliged, of necessity
they discover themselves. They are afraid, and yet the
circumstances^ compel them to refuse. Then, in that case,
their very insolent remark is, ''Who are you? What are
you to me? What should I give up to you what's my own?
' What do you deserve ?) — Ver. 622. Madame Dacier remarks that
this question is taken from the custom of the Athenians, who never
condemned a criminal without first asking him what punishment lie
thought he deserved ; and according to the nature of his answer they
mitigated or increased his punishment. The Commentators quote a
similar passage from the Frogs of Aristophanes.
2 I'he cross) — Ver. G22. The "cross," "crux," as a punishment for
refractory slaves has been remarked upon in the Notes to the Transla-
tion of Flautus.
" The circumstances) — Ver. 635. "Res." According, however, to
Donatus, this Avord has the meaning here of "malice" or "spiteful-
40 ANDRIA; [Act IV.
Look you, I am the most concerned in my own interests." ^
But if you inquire where is honor, they are not ashamed.^
Here, where there is occasion,, they are not afraid ; there,
where there is no occasion, they are afraid. But what am I
to do^ Ought I not to go to him, and reason with him
upon this outrage, and heap many an invective upon him ?
Yet some one may say, "you will avail nothing." Nothing?
At least I shall have vexed him, and have given vent to my
own feelings.
Scene II.
Enter Pamphilus and Davus.
Pam. Charinus, unintentionally I have ruined both myself
and you, unless the Gods in some way befriend us.
Char. Unintentionally, is it ! An excuse has been discov-
ered at last. You have broken your word.
Pam. How so, pray ?
Char. Do you expect to deceive me a second time by
these speeches?
Pam. What does this mean ?
Char. Since I told you that I loved her, she has become
quite pleasing to you. Ah wretched me ! to have judged of
your disposition from my own.
Pam. You are mistaken.
Char. Did this pleasure appear to you not to be quite com-
plete, unless you tantalized me in my passion, and lured me
on by groundless hopes ? — You may take her.
Pam. I, take her ? Alas ! you know not in what perplex-
ities,' to my sorrow, I am involved, and what vast anxieties
this executioner of mine {pointing to Davus) has contrived
for me by his devices.
Char. What is it so wonderful, if he takes example from
yourself?
* Concerned in my own interests) — Ver. 637. Equivalent to our say-
ings, " Charity begins at home;" "Take care of number one."
^ They are not ashamed) — Ver. 638. Terence has probably borrowed
this remark from the Epidicus of Plautus, 1. 165-6 : " Generally all
men are ashamed when it is of no use ; when they ought to be ashamed,
then does shame forsake them, when occasion is for them to be
ashamed."
Sc. II.] THE FAIR ANDKIAN. 41
Pam. You would not say that if you understood either my-
self or my affection.
Chak. I'm quite aware {ironically) ; you have just now had
a dispute with your father, and he is now angry with you in
consequence, and has not been able to-day to prevail upon
you to marry her.
Pam. No, not at all, — as you ai*e not acquainted with my
sorrows, these nuptials were not in preparation for me; and
no one was thinking at present of giving me a wife.
Ciiak. I am aware; you have been influenced by your
own inclination.
Pam. Hold ; you do not yet know all
Chak. For my part, I certainly do know that you are
about to marry her.
Pam. Why are you torturing m« to death ? Listen to this.
He {pointing to Davus) never ceased to urge me to tell my fa-
ther that I would marry her ; to advise and persuade me,
even until he compelled me.
Chak. Who was this person ?
Pam. Davus.
Chak. Davus ! For what reason ?
Pam. I don't know; except that I must have been under
the displeasure of the Gods, for me to have listened to him.
Chak. Is this the fact, Davus ?
Dav. It is the fact.
Chak. {starting.) Ha! What do you say, you villain?
Then may the Gods send you an end worthy of your deeds.
Come now, tell me, if all his enemies had wished him to be
plunged into a marriage, what advice but this could they
have given ?
Dav. I have been deceived, but I don't despair.
Char, {ironically^ I'm sure of that.
Dav. This way it has not succeeded ; we'll tiy another.
Unless, perhaps, you think that because it failed at first, this
misfortune can not now possibly be changed for better luck.
Pam. Certainly not ; for I quite believe that if you set about
it, you will be making two marriages for me out of one.'
Dav. I owe you this, Pamphilus, in respect of my servi-
tude, to strive with hands and feet, night and day ; to sub-
mit to hazard of my life, to serve you. It is your part, if
any thing has fallen out contrary to expectation, to forgive
42 ANDRIA; [Act IV.
me. What I was contriving has not succeeded ; still, I am
using all endeavors ; or, do you yourself devise something het
ter, and dismiss me.
Pam. I wish to ; restore me to the position in which ycu
found me.
Day. ril do so.
Pam. But it must be done directly.
Day. But the door of Glycerium's house here makes a
noise. ^
Pam. That's nothing to you.
Day. (assuming an attitude of meditation.) I'm in search
of
Pam. {ironically.) Dear me, what, now at last ?
Day. Presently PlI give you what I've hit upon.
a
Scene III ^
Enter Mysis from tlm house 6f Glycekium.
Mys. {calling at the door to Glycekium within.) Now,
wherever he is, I'll take care that your own Pamphilus shall
be found for you, and brought to you by me ; do you only,
my life, cease to vex yourself.
Pam. Mysis.
Mys. {turning round.) Who is if? Why, Pamphilus, you
do present yourself opportunely to me. My mistress charged
me to beg of you, if you love her, to come to her directly ; she
says she wishes to see you.
Pam. {aside.) Alas ! I am undone ; this dilem.ma grows
apace! {To Dayus.) For me and her, unfortunate persons,
now to be tortured this way through your means ; for I am
sent for, because she has discovered that my marriage is in
preparation.
^ Mahes a noise) — Ver. 683. The doors with the Eomans oiJcned in-
wardly, while those of the Greeks ojDened on the outside. It was there-
fore usual with them, when coming out, to strike the door on the in-
side with a stick or with the knuckles, that those outside might be
warned to get out of the way. Patrick, however, observes with some
justice, that the word " concrepuit" may here allude to the creaking of
the hinges. See the Curculio of Plautus, 1. 160, where the Procuress
pours water on the hinges, in order that Cappadox may not hear the
opening of the door.
Sc. in.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 43
Char. From which, indeed, how easily a respite could have
been obtained, if he (^■pointing to Davus) had kept himself quiet.
Dav. (ii-omcalli/ to C II AiiiNXJS.) Do proceed; if he isn't suf-
ficiently angry of his own accord, do you irritate him.
Mys. (to Pamphilus.) Aye faith, that is the case ; and for
that reason, poor thing, she is now in distress.
Pam. Mysis, I swear by all the Gods that I will never for-
sake her ; not if I were to know that all men would be my
enemies in consequence. Her have I chosen for mine ; slie
has fallen to my lot ; our feelings are congenial ; farewell
they, who wish for a separation between us ; nothing but
Death separates her from me.
Mys. I begin to revive.
Pam. Not the responses of Apollo are more true than this.
If it can possibly be contrived that my father may not believe
that this marriage has been broken off through me, I could
wish it. But if that can not be, I will do that which is easi-
ly effected, for him to believe that through me it has been
caused. What do you think of me ?
Chak. That you are as unhappy as myself.
Dav. {placing his finger on his forehead.) I'm contriving an
expedient.
Chak. You are a clever hand ; if y<3u do set about any thing.
Dav. Assuredly, I'll manage this for you.
Pam. There's need of it now.
Dav. But I've got it now.
Char. What is it?
Dav. For him {pointing to Pamphilus) I've got it, not for
you, don't mistake.
Char. I'm quite satisfied.
Pam. What will you do? Tell me.
Dav. I'm afraid that tliis day won't be long enough for
me to execute it, so don't suppose that I've now got leisure
for relating it ; do you betake yourself off at once, for you are
a hinderance to me.
Pam. I'll go and see her. {Goes into the house of Qd^xc^rnxju.)
Dav. {to Charinus.) What are you ^70% to do ? Whither
are you going from here ?
Char. Do you wish me to tell you the truth ?
Dav. No, not at all ; {aside) he's making the beginning of
a long story for me.
44 ANDRIA; [Act IV.
Chae. What will become of me ?
Dav. Come now, you unreasonable person, are you not
satisfied that I give you a little respite, by putting off his
marriage ?
CiiAK. But yet, Davus
Dav. What then?
Chak. That I may marry her
Dav. Absurd.
Char. Be sure to come hither {pointing in the direction of
his house) to my house, if you can effect any thing.
Dav. Why should I come? I can do nothing /o?'?/om.
Char. But still, if any thing
Dav. Well, well, I'll come.
Char. If you can ; I shall be at home. {Exit,
Scene IV.
Mysis and Davus.
Dav. Do you, Mysis, remain here a little while, until I
come out.
Mys. For what reason ?
Dav. There's a necessity for so doing.
Mys. Make haste. »
Dav. I'll be here this moment, I tell you. {He goes into
the house of Glycerium.)
Scene Y.
Mysis alone.
Mys. {to herself.) That nothing can be secure to any one !
Ye Gods, by our trust in you ! I used to make sure that this
Pamphiliis was a supreme blessing for my mistress ; a friend,
a protector, a husband secured und*er every circumstance ; yet
what anguish is she, poor thing, now suffering through him ?
Clearly there's more trouble /or her now than there ivas hap-
piness formerly. But Davus is coming out.
Scene VI.
Enter D'avus f^om the house of Glycerium with the child.
Mys. My good sir, prithee, what is that? Whither are
you carrying the child ?
Sc. VI.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 45
Dav. Mysis, I now stand in need of your cunning being
brought into play in this matter, and of your address.
Mys. Why, what are you going to do ?
Dav. {holding out the child.) Take it from me directly, and
lay it down before our door.
Mys. Prithee, on the ground 1
Dav. (pointing.) Take some sacred herbs^ from the altar
here, 2 and strew them under it.
Mys. Why don't you do it yourself?
Dav. That if perchance I should have to swear to my
master that I did not place it there, I may be enabled to do
so with a clear conscience.
Mys. I understand ; have these new scruples only just now
occurred to you, pray?
Dav. Bestir yourself quickly, that you may learn what
I'm going to do next. (Mysis lays the child at Simo's door.)
Oh Jupiter!
Mys. {starting iqj.) What's the matter?
Dav. The father of the intended bride is coming in the
middle of it all. The plan which I had first purposed I now
give up. 3
Mys. I don't understand what you are talking about.
Dav. I'll pretend too that I've come in this direction from
the right. Do you take care to help out the conversation by
your words, whenever there's necessity.*
^ Take some sacred herbs) — Ver. 727. "Verbena" appears to have
been a general term appHed to any kind of herb used in honor of the
Deities, or to the boughs and leaves of any tree gathered from a pure
or sacred place. Fresh " verbenae" were placed upon the altars every
day. See the Mercator of Plautus, 1. 672.
2 From the altar here) — Ver. 727. It was usual to have altars on the
stage ; when Comedy was performed, one on the left hand in honor of
Apollo, and on the representation of Tragedy, one on the right in hon-
or of Bacchus. It has been suggested that Terence here alludes to the
former of these. As, however, at Athens almost every house had its
own altar in honor of Apollo Prostaterius just outside of the street door,
it is most probable that to one of these altars reference is here made.
They are frequently alluded to in the Plays of Plautus. ,
^ Which I had first purposed, I now give up) — ^Ver. 734. His first in-
tention no doubt was to go and inform Simo of the child being laid at
the door.
* Whenever there's necessity) — Ver. 737. He retires without fully ex-
plaining his intention to Mysis ; consequently, in the next Scene she
gives an answer to Chremes which Davus does not intend.
46 ANDRIA; [Act IV.
Mys. I don't at all comprehend what you are about ; but
if there's any thing in which you have need of my assistance,
as you understand the best, I'll stay, that I mayn't in any
way impede your success. (Davus retires out of sight.)
Scene VII.
Enter Chremes oh the other side of the stage, going toward
the house of Simo.
CiiiiEM. (to himself.) After having provided the things nec-
essary for my daughter's nuptials, I'm returning, that I may
request her to be sent for. {Seeing the child.) But what's
this? I'faith, it's a child. {Addressing Mysis.) "Woman,
have you laid that here {pointing to the child) ?
Mys. {aside, looking out for Davus.) Where is he?
Chrem. Don't you answer me?
Mys. {looking about, to herself.) He isn't any where to be
seen. "Woe to wretched me ! the fellow has left me and is off.
Dav. {coming forward and pretending not to see them.) Yc
G ods, by our trust in you ! what a crowd there is in the Fo-
rum ! What a lot of people are squabbling there! {Aloud.)
Then provisions are so dear. {Aside.) AVhat to say besides, I
don't know. (Chremes passes by Mysis, and goes to a distance
at the back of the stage.)
Mys. Pray, why did you leave me here alone ?
Dav. {pretending to start on seeing the child.) Ha! what
story is this? How now, Mysis, whence comes this child?
Who has brought it liere ?
Mys. Are you quite right in your senses, to be asking me
that ?
Dav. Whom, then, ought I to ask, as I don't see any one
else here ?
Chrem. {apart to himself) I wonder whence it has come.
Dav. Are you going to tell me what I ask ?
Mys. Pshaw!
Dav. {in a whisper.) Step aside to the riglit. {They retire
on one side.)
Mys. You -are out of your senses ; didn't you your own self?
Dav. {in a low voice.) Take you care not to utter a single
word beyond what I ask you. Why don't you say aloud
whence it comes ?
Mys. {in a loud voice.) From our house.
Sc. VII.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 47
Dav. {afecting indignation.) Heyday, indeed ! it really is a
wonder if a woman, who is a courtesan, acts impudently.
Chrem. {apart.) So far as I can learn, this woman belongs
to the Andrian.
Dav. Do we seem to you such very suitable persons for
you to be playing tricks with us in this way ?
CiiKEM. {apart.) I came/ws^ in time.
Dav. Make haste then, and take the child away from the
door here : {in a low voice) stay there; take care you don't stir
from that spot.
Mys. {aside.) May the Gods confound you ! you do so ter-
rify poor me.
Dav. {in a loud voice.) Is it to you I speak or not?
Mys. AVhat is it you want ? •
Dav. {aloud.) What — do you ask me again? Tell me,
whose child have you been laying here ? Let me know.
Mys. Don't you know ?
Dav. {in a loiu voice.) Have done with what I know ; tell
me what I ask.
My^s. {aloud.) It belongs to your people.
Dav. {aloud. Which of our people ?
Mys. {aloud.) To Pamphilus.
Dav. {affectinrj surprise in a loud tone.) How? What — to
Pamphilus ?
Mys. {aloud.) How now — is it not so?
Chrem. {apart.) With good reason have I always been
averse to this match, it's clear.
Dav. {calling aloud.) O abominable piece of effrontery!
Mys. Why are you bawling out so ?
Dav. (aloud.) What, the very one I saw being carried to
your house yesterday evening ?
Mys. O you impudent fellow !
Dav. {aloud.) It's the truth. I saw Canthara stuffed out
beneath her clothes.^
Mys. I'faith, I thank the Gods that several free women
were present^ at the delivery.
^ Stuffed out beneath her clothes) — Ver. 771. " SuiFarcinatam." He
alludes to the trick already referred to as common among the Greeks,
of the nurses and midwives secretly introducing supposititious children;
see 1. 515 and the Note.
' Several jree women were present) — Ver. 772. She speaks of "libe-
48 ANDRIA ; [Act IV.
Day. {aloud.') Assuredly she doesn't know him, on whose
account she resorts to these schemes. Chremes, she fancies,
if he sees the child laid before the door, will not give his
daughter ; i'faith, he'll give her all the sooner.
Cpirem. {apart) I'faith, he'll not do so.
Day. {aloM.) Now therefore, that you may be quite aware,
if you don't take up the child, I'll roll it forthwith into the
middle of the road ; and yourself in the same place I'll roll
over into the mud.
Mys. Upon my word, man, you are not sober.
Day. {aloud.) One scheme brings on another. I now hear
it whispered about that she is a citizen of Attica
Chrem. {apart.) Ha!
Dav. {alt>ud.) And that, constrained by the laws,^ he will
have to take her as his wife.
Mys. AVell now, pray, is she not a citizen %
Chrem. {apa7't.) I had almost fallen unawares into a com-
ical misfortune. {Comes forivard.)
Day. Who's that, speaking? {Pretending to look ahout.)
O Chremes, you have come in good time. Do listen to this.
Chrem. I have heard it all already.
Day. Prithee, did you hear it ? Here's villainy for you !
she {pointing at My sis) ought to be carried off^ hence to the
torture forthwith. {To Mysis, pointing at Chremes.) This is
Chremes himself; don't suppose that you are trifling with
Davus only.
Mys. Wretched me ! upon my faith I have told no untruth,
my worthy old gentleman.
Chrem. I know the whole affair. Is Simo within 1
Day. He is. (Chremes goes into Simo's house.)
rre," free women," because in Greece as well as Italy slaves were not
permitted to give evidence. See the Curcuho of Plautus, 1. 621, and
the Note to the passage in Bohn's Translation. See also the remark
of Geta in the Phormio, 1. 293.
^ Constrained by the laws) — Ver. 782. He alludes to a law at Athens
which compelled a man who had debauched a free-born woman to mar-
ry her. This is said by Davus with the view of frightening Chremes
from the match.
' She ought to he carried off) — Ver. 787. He says this implying that
Mysis, who is a slave, ought to be put to the torture to confess the
truth ; as it was the usual method at Athens to force a confession from
slaves by that method. We find in the Hecyra, Bacchis readily offer-
ing her slaves to be put to the torture, and in the Adelphi the same
custom is alluded to in the Scene between Micio, Hegio, and Geta.
Sc. IX.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 49
* Scene VIII.
Davus and Mysis.
Mys. (Davus attempting to caress her.) Dcn't touch me,
villain. {Moving away.) On my word, if I don't tell Glyceri-
um all this
Dav. How now, simpleton, don't you know what has been
done?
Mys. How should I know %
Dav. This is the blade's father. It couldn't any other
way have been managed that he should know the things that
we wanted him to know.
Mys. You should have told me that before.
Dav. Do you suppose that it makes little difference wheth-
er you do things according to impulse, as nature prompts, or
from premeditation ?
Scene IX.
Enter Crito, looking about him.
Crito {to himself.) It was said that Chrysis used to live
in this street, who preferred to gain wealth here dishonorably
to living honestly as a poor woman in her own country : by
her death that property has descended to me by law.' But I
see some persons of whom to make inquiry. {Accosting them.)
Good-morrow to you.
Mys. Prithee, whom do I see? Isn't this Crito, the kins-
man of Chrysis ? It is he.
Cri. O Mysis, greetings to you.
Mys. Welcome to you, Crito.
Cri. Is Chrysis then %'^ Alas !
^ Descended to me by lata) — Ver. 800. On the supposition that Chry-
sis died without a will, Crito as her next of kin would be entitled to
her effects.
^ Is Chrysis then ?) — Ver. 804. This is an instance of Aposio-
pesis ; Crito, mudi affected, is unwilling to name the death of Chrysis.
It was deemed of ill omen to mention death, and numerous Euphe-
misms or circumlocutions were employed in order to avoid the neces-
sity of doing so.
c
50 ANDRIA ; [Act IV., Sc. IX.
Mrs. Too truly. She has indeed left us poor creatures
quite heart-broken.
Cri. How fare you here, and in what fashion? Pretty
well?
Mys. What, we % Just as we can, as they say ; since we
cfin't as we would.
Cri. How is Glycerium? Has she discovered her parents
yet?
Mys. I wish she had.
Cri. What, not yet? With no favorable omen did I set
out for this place ; for, upon ray faith, if I had known that,
I never would have moved a foot hither. She was always
said to be, and was looked upon as her sister; what things
were hers she is in possession of; now for me to begin a suit
at law here, the precedents of others warn me, a stranger,^
how easy and profitable a task it would be for me. At the
same time, I suppose that by this she has got some friend and
protector; for she was pretty nearly a grown-up girl when
she left there. They would cry out that I am a sharper;
that, a pauper, I'm hunting after an inheritance ; besides, I
shouldn't like to strip the girl herself.
Mys. O most worthy stranger! I'faith, Crito, you still
adhere to your good old-fashioned ways.
Cri. Lead me to her, since I have come hither, that I may
see her.
Mys. By all means. {Theij go into the house of Glyce-
RIUM.)
Dav. {to himself.) I'll follow them; I don't wish the old
man to see me at this moment. {He follows My'Sis and
Crito.)
^ Warn me, a stranger) — Vcr. 812. Patrick has the following re-
marks upon this passage: "Madame Dacier observes that it appears,
from Xenophon's Treatise on the policy of the Athenians, that all the
inhabitants of cities and islands in alliance with Athens were obliged
in all claims to repair thither, and refer their cause to the decision of
the people, not being permitted to plead elsewhere. We can not won-
der then that Crito is unwilling to engage in a suit so inconvenient
from its length, expense, and little prospect of success." She might
have added that such was the partiality and corruptness of the Atheni-
an people, that, being a stranger, his chances of success would proba-
bly be materially diminished.
Act v., Sc. I.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 5J
ACT THE FIFTH.
Scene I.
Enter Chremes and Smo fro7n the house of Simo.
Chrem. Enough already, enough, Simo, has my friendship
toward you been proved. Sufficient hazard have I begun to
encounter; make an end of your entreaties, then. While
I've been endeavoring to oblige you, I've almost fooled away
my daughter's prospects in life.
Sim. Nay but, now in especial, Chremes, I do beg and en-
treat of you, tliat the favor, commenced a short time since in
words, you'll now complete by deeds.
Ciirem. See how unreasonable you are from your very
earnestness ; so long as you effect what you desire, you nei-
ther think of limits to compliance, nor what it is you request
of me ; for if you did think, you would now forbear to trouble
me with unreasonable requests.
Sim. What unreasonable requests ?
Chrem. Do you ask? You importuned me to promise my
daughter to a young man engaged in another attachment,
averse to the marriage state, to plunge her into discord and
a marriage of uncertain duration ; that through her sorrow
and her anguish I might reclaim your son. You prevailed;
while the case admitted of it I made preparations. Now it
does not admit of it ; you must put up with it ; they say that
she is a citizen of this place ; a child has been born ; do cease
to trouble us.
Sim. By the Gods, I do conjure you not to bring your
mind to believe those whose especial interest it is that he
should be as degraded as possible. On account of the mar-
riage, have all these things been feigned and contrived. When
the reason for which they do these things is removed from
them, they will desist.
Chrem. You are mistaken ; I myself saw the servant-maid
wrangling with Davus.
Sim. {sneeringly.) I am aware.
Chrem. With an appearance of earnestness, when neither
at the moment perceived that I was present there.
52 ANDRIA; [Act V.
Sim. I believe it ; and Davus a short time since forewarned
me that this would be the case ; and I don't know how 1 for-
got to tell it you to-day, as I had intended.
• Scene II.
Enter Davus from the house of Glycerium.
Dav. {aloud at the door, not seeing Simo and Chremes.)
Now then, I bid you set your minds at ease.
Chrem. {to Simo.) See you, there's Davus.
Sim. From what house is he coming out ?
Dav. {to himself.) Through my means, and that of the
stranger
Sim. {overhearing.) What mischief is this 1
Dav. {to himself) I never did see a more opportune person,
encounter, or occasion.
Sim. The rascal ! I wonder who it is he's praising?
Dav. All the affair is now in a safe position.
Sim. Why do I delay to accost him ?
Dav. {to himself catching sight of Simo.) It's my master ;
what am I to do?
Sim. {accosting him.) O, save you, good sir !
Dav. {affecting surprise.) Hah! Simo! O, Chremes, my
dear sir, all things are now quite ready in-doors.
Sim. {ironically.) You have taken such very good care.
Dav. Send for the bride when you like.
Sim. Very good: {ironically) of course, that's the only
thing that's now wanting here. But do you answer me this,
what business had you there ? {Pointing to the house of Gly-
cerium.)
Dav. What, I?
Sim. Just so.
Dav. 1%
Sim. Yes, you.
Dav. I went in just now.
Sim. As if I asked how long ago !
Dav. Together with your son.
Sim. What, is Phamphilus in there ? {Aside.) To my con-
fusion, I'm on the rack ! {To Davus.) How now ? Didn't
you say that there was enmity between them, you scoundrel ?
Dav. There is.
Sc. Ill] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 53
Sim. Why is he there, then ?
Chrem. Why do you suppose he is? {Ironically.) Quar-
reling with her, of course.
Dav. Nay but, Chremes, I'll let you now hear from me a
disgraceful piece of business. An old man, I don't know who
he is, has just now come here; look you, he is a confident
and shrewd person ; when you look at his appearance, he
seems to be a person of some consequence. There is a grave
sternness in his features, and something commanding in his
words.
Sim. What news are you bringing, I wonder?
Dav. Why nothing but what I heard him mention.
Sim. What does he say then ?
Dav. That he knows Glycerium to be a citizen of Attica.
Sim. {going to his door.) Ho there ! Dromo, Dromo !
Scene III.
Enter Dromo hastihj from the house,
Dro. What is it %
Sim. Dromo!
Dav. Hear me.
Sim. If you add a word Dromo !
Dav. Hear me, pray.
Dro. {to SiMO.) What do you want?
Sim. {pointing to Davus.) Carry him off on your shoulders
in-doors as fast as possible.
Dro. Whom?
Sim. Davus.
Dav. For what reason?
Sim. Because I choose. {To Dromo.) Carry him off, I say.
Dav. What have I done ?
Sim. Cany him off.
Dav. If you find that I have told a lie in any one matter,
then kill me.
Sim. I'll hear nothing. I'll soon have you set in motion.^
- You set in motion) — Ver. 865. By the use of the word " Commo-
tus" he seems to allude to the wretched, restless existence of a man
tied hand and foot, and continually working at the hand-mill. West-
erhovius thinks that Simo uses this word sarcastically, in allusion to the
words of Davus, at the beginning of the present Scene, "Animo otioso
esse impero ;" "I bid you set your minds at ease."
64 ANDRIA; [Act V.
Dav. What ? Although this is the truth.
Sim. In spite of it. {To Dromo.) Take care he's kept well
secured; and, do you hear? Tie him .up hands and feet
together.^ Now then, be off; upon my faith this very day, if
I live, I'll teach you what hazard there is in deceiving a mas-
ter, and him in deceiving a father. (Dromo leads Davus into
the house.)
Chrem. Oh, don't be so extremely vexed.
Sim. O Chremes, the dutifulness of a son ! Do you not
pity me ? That I should endure so much trouble for such a
son ! (Goes to the door of Glycerium's house.) Come, Pam-
philus, come out, Pamphilus ! have you any shame left ?
Scene IV.
Enter Pamphilus in haste from Glycerium's house.
Pam. Whe is it that wants me? {Aside.) I'm undone! it's
my father.
Sim. What say you, of all men, the ?
Chrem. Oh ! rather speak about the matter itself, and for-
bear to use harsh language.
Sim. As if any thing too severe could now be possibly said
against him. Pray, do you say that Gly cerium is a citizen —
Pam. So they say.
Sim. So they say ! Unparalleled assurance ! does he con-
sider what he says? Is he sorry for what he has done?
Does his countenance, pray, at all betray any marks of shame?
That he should be of mind so weak, as, without regard to the
custom and the law^ of his fellow-citizens, and the wish of
his own father, to be anxious, in spite of every thing, to have
her, to his own utter disgrace !
Pam. Miserable that 1 am !
Sim. Ha ! have you at last found that out only just now,
Pamphilus ? Long since did that expression, long since, when
' Hands and feet together) — Ver. 866. " Quadrupedem." Literally
" as a quadruped" or "all fours." Echard remarks that it was the cus-
tom of the Athenians to tie criminals hands and feet together, just like
calves.
= Without regard to the custom and the law) — Ver. 880. There was a law
amonp; the Athenians which forbade citizens to marry strangers, and made
the offspring of such alliances illegitimate ; the same law also excluded
such as were not born of two citizens from all offices of trust and honor.
Sc. v.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 55
you made up your mind, that what you desired must be ef-
fected by you at any price ; from that very day did that ex-
pression aptly befit you. But yet why do I torment myself?
Why vex myself? Why worry my old age with this mad-
ness? Am I to suffer the punishment for his offenses ? Nay
then, let him have her, good-by to him, let him pass his life
with her.
Pam. My father
Sim. How, "my father?" As if you stood in any need of
this father. Home, wife, and children, provided by you
against the will of your father ! People suborned, too, to say
that she is a citizen of this place ! You have gained your
point.
Pam. Father, may I say a few words ?
Sim. What can you say to me ?
Chrem. But, Simo, do hear him.
Sim. I, hear him? Why should I hear him. Chromes?
Chrem. Still, however, do allow him to speak.
Sim. Well then, let him speak : I allow him.
Pam. I own that I love her ; if that is committing a fault,
I own that also. To you, father, do I subject myself. Im-
pose on me any injunction you please ; command me. Do
you wish me to take a wife? Do you wish me to give her
up ? As well as I can, I will endure it. This only I request
of you, not to think that this old gentleman has been suborn-
ed by me. Allow me to clear myself, and to bring him here
before you.
Sim. To bring him here?
Pam. Do allow me, father.
Chrem. He asks what's reasonable; do give him leave.
Pam. Allow me to obtain thus much of you.
Sim. I allow it. I desire any thing, so long as I find,
Chremes, that I have not been deceived by him. (Pamphi-
Lus goes into the house of Glycerium.)
Chrem. For a great offense, a slight punishment ought tc
satisfy a father.
Scene V.
He-enter Pasiphilus with Crito.
Cri. (to Pamphilus, as he is coming out.) Forbear entreat-
ing. Of these, any one reason prompts me to do it, either
56 AOT)RIA ; [Act V.
your own sake, or the fact that it is the truth, or that I wish
well for Glycerium herself.
Chrem. {starting.) Do I see Crito of Andros? Surely it
is he.
Cri. Greetings to you, Chremes.
Chrem. How is it that, so contrary to your usage, you are
at Athens ?
Cri. So it has happened. But is this Simo %
Chrem. It is he.
Cri. Simo, were you asking for me"?
Sim. How now, do you say that Glycerium is a citizen of
this place?
Cri. Do you deny it ?
Sim. {ironically. ) Have you come here so well prepared?
Cri. For what purpose?
Sim. Do you ask? Are you to be acting this way with
impunity? Are you to be luring young nun into snares
liere,- inexperienced in affairs, and liberally brought up, by
tempting them, and to be playing upon their fancies by mak-
ing promises?
Cri. Are you in your senses?
Sim. And are you to be patching up amours with Courte-
sans by marriage?
Pam. {aside.) Pm undone ! I fear that the stranger will not
put up with this.
Chrem. If, Simo, you knew this person well, you would
not think thus ; he is a worthy man.
Sim. He, a worthy man ! To come so opportunely to-day
just at the very nuptials, arid yet never to have come before ?
{Ironically.) Of course, we must believe him, Chremes.
Pam. {aside.) If I didn't dread my father, I have some-
thing, which, in tliis conjuncture, I could opportunely suggest
to him.^
^ Could opportunely suggest to 1dm) — Ver, 919. Colman has the fol-
lowing remark on this line : " Madame Dacier and several English
Translators make Pamphilus say that he could give Crito a hint or two.
What hints he could propose to suggest to Crito, I can not conceive.
The Italian translation, printed with the Vatican Terence, seems to
understand the words in the same manner that I have translated them,
in which sense (the pronoun ' ilium' referring to Simo instead of Crito)
they seem to be the most natural words of Pamphilus on occasion of
his father's anger and the speech immediately preceding."
Sc. v.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 57
Sim. {sneenngly, to Chremes.) A sharper!^
Cri. {starting.) Hah !
CiiREM. It is his way, Crito ; do excuse it.
Cri. Let him take heed how he behaves. If he persists
in saying to me what he likes, he'll be hearing things that he
don't like. Am I meddlin": with these matters or interestinsr
myself? Can you not endure your troubles with a patient
mind? For as to what I say, whether it is true or false
what I have heard, can soon be known. ^ A certain man of
Attica, a long time ago,^ his ship being wrecked, was cast
ashore at Andros, and this woman together with him, who
was tlien a little girl ; he, in his destitution, by chance first
made application to the father of Chrysis
Sim. {ironically.) He's beginning his tale.
CiiREM. Let him alone.
Cri. Keally, is he to be interrupting me in this way?
Chrem. Do you proceed.
Cri. He who received him was a relation of mine. There
I heard from him that he was a native of Attica. He died
there.
Chrem. His name ?
Cri. The name, in such a hurry !
Pam. Phania.
Chrem. {starting.) Hah ! I shall die !
Cri. I'faith, I really think it was Phania; this I know for
certain, he said that he was a citizen of Rhamnus.^
Chrem. O Jupiter !
^ A sharper) — Ver. 920. " Sycophaiita." For some account of the
"sycophants," "swindlers" or "sharpers" of ancient times, see the
Notes to the Trinummus of Plautus, Bohn's Translation.
' A long tijne ago) — Ver. 924. The stoiy begins tvith " Olim," just in
the same way that with us nursery tales commence with " There was,
a long time ago."
=■ A citizen of Rhamnus) — Ver. 931. Rhamnus was a maritime town
of Attica, near which many of the more wealthy Athenians had coun-
try-seats. It was famous for the Temple of Nemesis there, the Goddess
of Vengeance, who was thence called "Rhamnusia." In this Temple
was her statue, carved by Phidias out of the marble which the Persians
brought to Greece for the purpose of making a statue of Victory out of
it, and which was thus appropriately devoted to the Goddess of Retri-
bution. The statue wore a crown, and had wings, and, holding a spear
of ash in the right hand, it was seated on a stao-.
C 2
58 ANDRIA; [Act V.
Cri. Many other persons in Andros have heard the same,
Chremes.
Chrem. (aside.) I trust it may turn out as I hope. (To
Crito.) Come now, tell me, what did he then sat/ about her?
Did he say she was his own daughter ?
Cri. No.
Chrem. Whose then ?
Cri. His brother's daughter.
Chrem. She certainly is mine.
Cri. What do you say ?
Sim. What is this that you say ?
Pam. (aside.) Prick up your ears, Pamphilus.
Sim. Why do you suppose so ?
CiiREM. That Phania was my brother.
Sim. I knew him, and I am aware of it.
Chrem. He, flying from the wars, and following me to
Asia, set out from here. At the same time he was afraid to
leave her here behind ; since then, this is the first time I have
heard what became of him.
Pam. (aside.) I am scarcely myself, so much has my mind
been agitated by fear, hope, joy, and surprise at this so great,
so unexpected blessing.
Sim. Really, I am glad for many reasons that she has been
discovered to be a citizen.
Pam. I believe it, father.
Chrem. But there yet remains one difficulty^ with me,
which keeps me in suspense.
Pam. (aside.) You deserve to be , with your scruples,
i/ou plague. You are seeking a knot in a bulrush.^
Cri. (to Chremes.) What is that?
Chrem. The names don't agree.
Cri. Troth, she had another when little.
Chrem. What was it, Crito ? Can you remember it 1
^ One difficulty) — Ver. 941. " Scrupus," or " scrupulus," was proper-
ly a stone or small piece of gravel which, getting into the shoe, hurt
the foot; hence the word figuratively came to mean a "scruple," "dif-
ficulty," or "doubt." We have a similar expression: "to be grav-
eled."
' A knot in a bulrush) — Ver. 942. ' ' Nodum in scirpo qua;rere" was
a proverbial expression implying a desire to create doubts and difficul-
ties where there really were none; there being no knots in the bulrush.
The same expi-ession occurs in the Menaschrai of Plautus, 1. 247.
Sc. v.] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 59
Cki. I'm trying to recollect it.
Pam. (aside.) Am I to suffer his memory to stand in the
way of my happiness, when I myself can provide my own rem-
edy in this matter ? I will not suffer it. (Aloud.) Hark you,
Chremes, that which you are trying to recollect is " Pasibula."
Chrem. The very same.
Cri. That's it.
Pam. I've heard it from herself a thousand times.
Sim. I suppose, Chremes, that you believe that we all re-
joice at this discovery.
Chrem. So may the Gods bless me, I do believe it.
Pam. What remains to be done, father ?
Sim. The event itself has quite brought me to reconcile-
ment.
Pam. O kind father ! With regard to her as a wife, since
I have taken possession of her, Chremes will not offer any
opposition.
Chrem. The plea is a very good one, unless perchance your
father says any thing to the contrary.
Pam. Of course, I agree.
Sim. T/ie?i be it so.i
Chrem. Her portion, Pamphilus, is ten talents.
Pam. I am satisfied.
Chrem. I'll hasten to my daughter. Come now, (heclcon-
ing) along with me, Crito ; for I suppose that she will not
know me. (They go into Glycerium's house.)
Sim. (To Pamphilus.) Why don't you order her to be sent
for hither, to our house ?
Pam. Well thought of; I'll at once give charge of that to
Davus.
Sim. He can't do it.
"■ Of course 7^ew6e t7so)— Ver. 951. " Nempe id. Scilicet." Col-
man has the following remark on this line : " Donatus, and some others
after him, understand these words of Simo and Pamphilus as requiring
a fortune of Chremes with his daughter; and one of them says that
Simo, in order to explain his meaning, in the representation, should
produce a bag of money. This surely is precious refinement, worthy
the genius of a true Commentator. Madame Dacier, who entertains a
just veneration for Donatus, doubts the authenticity of the observation
ascribed to him. The sense I have followed is, I think, the most ob-
vious and natural interpretation of the words of Pamphilus and SiMo,
which refer? to the preceding, not the subsequent, speech of Chremes."
60 ANDEIA; [Act V.
Pam. How so ?
Sim. Because he has another matter that more nearly con-
cerns himself, and of more importance.
Pam. What, pray?
Sim. He is bound.
Pam. Father, he is not rightly bound. ^
Sim. But I ordered to that effect.
Pam. Prithee, do order him to be set at liberty.
Sim. "Well, be it so.
Pam. But immediately.
Sim. I'm going in.
Pam. O fortunate and happy day! (SiMO goes into his
house.)
Scene VI.
Enter Charinus, at a distance.
Chak. {apart to himself.) I'm come to see what Pamphilus
is about ; and look, here he is.
Pam. {to himself.) Some one perhaps might imagine that
I don't believe this to be true; but now it is clear to me
that it really is true. I do think that the life of the Gods
is everlasting, for this reason, because their joys are their
own.'-^ For immortality has been obtained by me, if no sor-
row interrupts this delight. But whom in particular could
I wish to be now thrown in my way, for me to relate these
things to?
Chak. {apart to himself.) What means this rapture ?
^ lie is not rightly hound) — Ver. 956. " Non recte vinctus ;" meaning
" it was not well done to bind him." The father pretends to understand
him as meaning (which he might equally well by using the same words),
"non satis stricte," "he wasn't tightly enough" bound; and answers
"I ordered.that he should be," referring to his order for Davus to be
bound hand and foot. Donatus justly observes that the disposition of
the old gentleman to joke is a characteristic mark of his thorough rec-
onciliation.
^ Their joys are their own)— Ver. 9G1. Westerhovius remarks that he
seems here to be promulgating the doctrine of Epicurus, who taught
that the Deities devoted themselves entirely to pleasure and did not
trouble themselves about inortals. Donatus observes that these are the
doctrines of Epicurus, and that the whole sentence is copied from the
Eunuch of Menander ; to which practice of borrowing from various
PHtys, allusion is made in the Prologue, where he mentions the mixing
of plays ; " contaminari fabulas."
Sc. VIL] THE FAIR ANDRIAN. 61
Pam. {to himself.) I see Davus. There is no one in the
world whom I would choose in preference ; for I am sure that
he of all people will sincerely rejoice in my happiness.
Scene VII.
Enter Davus.
Dav. {to himself.) Where is Pamphilus, I wonder ?
Pam. Here he is, Davus.
Day. {turning round.) Who's that ?
Pam. 'Tis I, Pamphilus ; you don't know what has hap-
pened to me.
Dav. No really ; but I know what has happened to myself.
Pam. And I too.
Dav. It has fallen out just like human affairs in general,
that you should know the mishap I have met with, before I
the good that has befallen you.
Pam. My Glycerium has discovered her parents.
Dav. O, well done !
Char, {apart, in surprise.) Hah !
Pam. Her father is an intimate friend of ours.
Dav. Who?
Pam. Chremes.
Dav. You do tell good news.
Pam. And there's no hinderance to my marrying her at
once.
Char, {apart.) Is he dreaming the same that he has been
wishing for when awake ?
Pam. Then about the child, Davus.
Dav. O, say no more ; you are the only person whom the
Gods favor.
Char, {apart.) I'm all right if these things are true. I'll
accost them. {Comes forward.)
Pam. Who is this ? Why, Charinus, you meet me at the
very nick of time.
Char. That's all right.
Pam. Have you heard %
Char. Every thing ; come, in your good fortune do have
some regard for me. Chremes is now at your command ; I'm
sure that he'll do every thing you wish.
62 ANDKIA ; THE FAIR ANDRIAN. [Act V., Sc. VII.
Pam. I'll remember you ; and because it is tedious for us
to wait for him until he comes out, follow me this way ; he
is now in-doors at the house of Glycerium ; do you, Davus,
go home; send with all haste to remove her thence. Why
are you standing there ? Why are you delaying ?
Dav. I'm going. (Pamphilus and Charinus go into the
house of Glycerium. Davus then comes forward and address-
es the Audience.) Don't you wait until they come out from
there ; she will be betrothed within : if there is any thing else
that remains, it will be transacted in-doors. Grant us your
applause.^
^ Grant us your applause) — Ver. 982. "Plaudite." Colman has the
following remark at the conclusion of this Play: "All the old Trage-
dies and Comedies acted at Rome concluded in this manner. ' Donee
cantor vos " Plaudite" dicat,' says Horace. Who the ' cantor' was, is a
matter of dispute. Madame Dacier thinks it was the whole chorus;
others suppose it to have been a single actor ; some the prompter, and
some the composer. Before the word 'Plaudite' in all the old copies
is an i2, which has also given rise to several learned conjectures. It is
most probable, according to the notion of Madame Dacier, that this S2,
being the last letter of the Greek alphabet, was nothing more than the
mark of the transcriber to signify the end, like the Latin word ' Finis'
in modern books ; or it might, as Patrick supposes, stand for Q,6og,
* cantor,' denoting that the following word ' Plaudite' was spoken by
him. After 'Plaudite' in all the old copies ofTei-ence stand these two
words, ' Calliopius recensui ;' which signify, ' I, Calliopius, have re-
vised and coiTected this piece.' And this proceeds from the custom of
the old critics, who carefully revised all Manuscripts, and when they
had read and corrected any work, certified the same by placing their
names at the end of it."
EUNUCHUS; THE EUNUCH.
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
Laches,^ an aged Athenian.
Ph^dria,'
_ , , his sons.
Chjerea.
Antipho,* a young man, friend of Chserea.
Chremes,^ a young man, brother of Pamphila.
Thraso,^ a boastful Captain.
Gnatho,'^ a Parasite.
Parmexo,^ servant of Pha^dria.
Sanga,^ cook to Thraso.
D0NAX,^° \
SiMALio, ' ' y servants of Thraso.
Striscus,'^)
DoRus,^^ a Eunuch slave.
Thais, ^^ a Courtesan.
Pythias.**
^ , , , her attendants
DORIAS,
SoPHRONA,^^ a nurse.
Pamphila, ^'^ a female slave.
Scene. — Athens ; before the houses of Laches and Thais.
1 From ?.ajx(^^^', "to obtain by lot" or "heirship."
^ From (j)at6pdg, "cheerful."
^ From xaip<^v, "rejoicing."
* From uvTi, "opposite to," and (pCJg, "light," or fr/fii, "to speak.'
* From xp^H-K<^-) "to neigh ;" delighting in horses.
^ From ^pacrof, "boldness."
' From yva^of, " the jawbone ;" a glutton.
® From TTcpa, "by," and fj.f:vu, "to remain."
® From Sangia in Phrygia, his native country.
'° From 66vu^, "a reed."
^* From Giiib^, " flat-nosed."
^^ From Syria, his country; or from GvpioKog, " a basket of figs."
" From Oeuofiai, " to look at."
^* From -Kvdofievr], " asking questions."
*^ From Doris, their country, a part of Caria.
'^ From adxppuv, "prudent."
^^ From TTuv, "all," and (bilbc, "a friend."
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 fol-
lowing her mother's way of life, removes to Athens. Her mother
dying, her property is put up for sale, and Pamphihi is purchased as
a slave by Thraso, an officer and an admirer of Tliais, who happens
l^st then to be visiting Rhodes. During the absence of Thraso, Thais
becomes acquainted with Phajdria, 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 Phasdria. Finding that the girl
is no other than Pamphila, Thais is at a loss what to do, as she both
loves Phaedria, and is extremely anxious to recover Pamphila. At
length, to please the Captain, she excludes Phtedi-ia, 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. Pliosdria 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 Ethiopian girl, whom he has purchased for her. The
Captain also sends Pamphila, who is accidentally seen by Chairea,
the younger brother of Phtedria ; 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 Cheerea; while Thraso becomes reconciled to Phtedria, through
the mediation of Gnatho, his Parasite. -
THE TITLEi OF THE PLAY.
Performed at the Megalensian Games; L. Posthumius Al'
bin us and L. Cornelius Merula being Curule JEdiles. L.
Ambivius Turpio and L. Atilius Praenestinus performed it.
Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius, composed the music to
two treble flutes. From the Greek of Menander. It was
acted twice,2 M. Valerius and C. Fannius being Consuls.^
^ 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 great-
est applause, and that the Poet received a larger price for it from the
JEcliles than had ever been paid for any before, namely, 8000 sesterces,
which is about equal to 200 crowns, which in those times was a consid-
erable sum."
^ 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 Sue-
tonius informs us that it really Avas performed twice in one day. Do-
natus says it was performed three times, by which he may probably
mean, twice on one day and once on another.
^ 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.
EUNUCHUS; THE EUNUCH.
THE SUMMAKY 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 l^hais herself: she in reality is a citizen of Attica.
To the same woman, Phasdria, 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 Phjedria, having fallen in love with the dam-
sel sent to the house of Thais, is dressed up in the clothes of the Eu-
nuch. "Parmeno prompts him ; he goes in ; he ravishes the maiden ;
but at length her brother being discovered, a citizen of Attica, be-
troths her who has been ravished, to the youth, and Thraso prevails
upon Phaedria 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^ 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 p/a^s verbally,^ and writing them in bad Latin, has
made out of good Greek Plays Latin ones by no means good.
^ 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.
2 By translating literally) — Ver. 7. "Bene vertendo, at eosdem scj-i-
bendo male." This passage has greatly puzzled some of the Comment-
ators. Bentley has, however, it appears, come to the most reasonable
conclusion; who supposes that Terence means by "bene vertere," a
literal translation, word for Avord, from the Greek, by which a sen'ile
adherence to the idiom of that language was preserved to the neglect
of the Latin idiom ; in consequence of which the Plays of Luscus La-
vinius were, as he remarks, "male scriptae," written in bad Latin.
EUNUCHUS ; THE EUNUCH. 67
Just as of late he has published the Phasma^ [the Appari-
tion] of Menander; and in the Thesaurus [the Treasure]
has described^ him from whom the gold is demanded, as
^ Has published the Phasma) — Ver. 9. The "<l>a(T//a," or "Appari-
tion," was a play of Menander, so called, in which a young man look-
ing 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 deck-
ed 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, un-
less 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 couch-
ed 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.
^ And in the Thesaurus has described) — Ver. 10. Cook has the fol-
lowing 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 monu-
ment : 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
hi in, 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 preedicem?'
'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
68 EUNUCHUS;
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 re-
frain from provoking me. I have many other points, as to
which for the present he shall be pardoned, which, however,
shall be brouglit forward hereafter, if he persists in attacking
mc, as he has begun to do. After the ^diles had purchased
the Eunuch of Menander, the Plwj which we are about
to perform, he managed to get an opportunity of viewing
it.^ When the magistrates were present it began to be per-
formed. He exclaimed that a thief, no Poet, had produced
the piece, but still had not deceived^ him; that, in fact, it
was the Colax, an old Play of Plautus ;^ and that from it
were taken the characters of the Parasite and the Captain.
Eugraphius, though not with all the circumstances mentioned in my
Note from I5entley." 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."
^ Opportunity ofvieicmg 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.
^ Produced the piece, hut 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.
3 Colax, an old Play of Plautus)— Ver. 25. Although Nonius Mar-
THE EUNUCH. 69
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 per-
mitted us to use the same characters as others, how can it
any more be allowed to represent hurrying servants,^ to
describe virtuous matrons, artful courtesans, the ' gluttonous
cellus professes to quote from the Colax of Plautus (so called from the
Greek Ko/laf, "a flatterer" or "parasite"), some scholars have disbe-
lieved 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 en-
gaged 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 Pyrgopoli-
nices 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 ridic-
ulous 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 him-
self informs us it was translated from a Greek play called 'AAaCwi', ' the
Boaster,' and the Parasite is but a trifling character in that play, never
appearing after the first Scene."
^ Hurrying servants) — Ver. 35. On the "currentes servi," see the
Prologue to the Heautontimorumenos, 1. 31. Ovid, in the Am ores, B.
i., El. 15, 1. 17, 18, mentions a very similar combination of the charac-
ters 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."
7G EUNUCHUS; . [Act I
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 Ph^dria and Parmeno.
PiiiED. What, then, shall I do?^ 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. rfaith, 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 ivithyoa; you are ruined
outright. She'll be jilting you, when she finds you over-
come. 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 un-
able 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 un-
certain, certain by dint of reason, you wouldn't effect it a
bit the more than if you were to use your endeavors to be
^ What, then, shall I do f )— Ver. 46. Phaedria, on being sent for by
Thais, breaks out into these words as he enters, after having delibera-
ted upon his parting with her. Both Horace and Persius have imita-
ted this passage in their Satires.
Sc. n.] THE EUNUCH. 71
mad vdih reason. And, what you are now, in anger, medi-
tating to yourself, "What! I to her^^ 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 ac-
cuse you; and you will be too ready to give satisfaction to
her.
Ph^d. 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 sensi-
ble, 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 your-
self, t/ms 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.
Pii^D. Do you persuade me to this ?
. Par. If you are wise. And don't be adding to the troub-
les which love itself produces ; those which it does produce,
bear patiently. But see, here she is coming herself, the down-
fall of our fortunes,^ — for that which we ought ourselves to
enjoy she intercepts.
Scene II.
Enter Thais from her Jiouse*
Thais {to herself, not seeing them.) Ah wretched me ! I
fear lest Phaedria should take it amiss or otherwise than I in-
tended it, that he was not admitted yesterday.
1 What! I to hei'?') — Ver. 65. Donatus remarks that this is an ab-
rupt manner of speaking familiarly to persons in anger ; and that the
sentences are thus to be understood, " I, go to her? Her, who has re-
ceived him ! Who has excluded me !" — inasmuch as indignation loves
to deal in Ellipsis and Aposiopesis.
^ The downfall of our fortunes) — Ver. 79. Colman observes, " There
is an extreme elegance in this passage in the original ; and the figura-
tive 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."
72 EUNUCHUS ; [Act I.
Ph^d. {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,^
you'll soon be warmer than you need.
Thais {turning round.) Who is it that's speaking here?
What, are you here, my Phsedria? Why are you standing
here? Why didn't you come into the house at once?
Par. {whispering to Pii^dria.) But not a word about shut-
ting you out!
Thais. Why are you silent ?
Ph^ed. Of course, it's because"^ this door is always open to
me, or because Pm the highest in your favor ?
Thais. Pass those matters by.
Ph^d. How pass them by ? O Thais, Thais, I wish that
I had eqaal 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 be-
ing done by you.
Thais. Prithee, don't torment yourself, my life, my Phae-
dria. 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
Ph^dria.) But listen — the reason for which I desired you
to be sent for hither •
Ph^d. 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
^ Approach this Jive) — 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.
^ Of course Ws because) — Ver. 89. It must be observed that these
words, conmencing with " Sane, quia vero," in the original, are said
by Phtedria 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.
I
fie. II.J THE EUNUCH. 73
these conditions I pledge my word to you ; the truth that I
hoar, 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 50 ; we do not know for certain : she her-
self 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.i When my mother received her, she began
carefully to teach her every thing, aJicl 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 connect-
ed ; he left me all which I noiv 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
{l^ohiting to Ph^dria) 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 be-
gun to take a ftincy to me, set out to Caria f- 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.
PuiED. Nor will Parmeno be silent about that.
^ 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.
* Set out for Caria) — Ver. 126. This was a country of Asia Minor
upon the sea-coast, opposite to the island of Rhodes.
D
74 EUNUCHUS; [Act I.
Pak. O, is that a matter of doubt ?
Thais. Attend ; I entreat you. My mother died there re-
cently ; 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 sus-
pecting 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 pre-
ferred 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.
YiiJED. Any thing beyond that?
Thais. Nothing; for I have made inquiry. Now, my
Phaidria, there are many reasons why I could wish to get
her away from hira. In the first place, because she was call-
ed 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, Phajdria, 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 1
PiiiED. 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 Pii^dria.) You show yourself a man.
Ph^.d. I was not aware what you were aiming at;
" she was carried away from here, ivhen 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 ?
I
Sc. II.] THE EUNUCH. 75
Ph^d. What else, then, gives you concern 1 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 -Ethiopia, ^ setting
all other matters aside, go and seek for one? Then you said
that you wanted a Eunuch, because ladies of quality^ alone
make use of them ; I found you one. I yesterday paid twen-
ty minas^ 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. Phsedria, what does this mean 1 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.
Pii^D. I onl?/ 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 van-
quished 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 car-
ried your point? I am unable to obtain even this of you, that
you would grant ?ne only two days.
Pii^D. If, indeed, it is but two days ; but don't let these
days become twenty.
Thais. Assuredly not more than two days, or
Phjsd. " Or 1" I won't have it.
Thais. It shall not be ; only do allow me to obtain this of
you.
Ph^d. Of course that which you desire must be done.
Thais. I love you as you deserve ; you act obligingly.
pHiED. (to Parmeno.) I shall go into the country; there I
shall worry myself for the next two days : I'm resolved to do
' Servant-maid Jrom JEtkiopia) — Ver. 165. No doubt Ethiopian or
negro slaves were much prized by the great, and those courtesans
whose object it was to ape their manners.
= Ladies of quality) — Ver. 168. "Reginae," literally "queens," here
means women of rank and distinction,
- Paid twenty minm) — Ver. 169. The " raina" contained one hundred
" drachmce" of about 9|c/. each.
76 EUNUCHUS ; [Act I., Sc. III.
so ; Thais must be humored. Do you, Parmeno, take care
that they are brought hither.
Par. Certainly.
Ph^ed. For the next two days then, Thais, adieu .
Thais. And the same to you, my Phaedria ; do you desire
aught else ?
Ph^d. 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 venj life, as I am yours.
{Exeunt PuiEDRiA and Parmeno.
Scene III.
Thais alone.
Thais, {to herself.) Ah wretched me!^ perhaps now he
puts but little faith in me, and forms his estimate of me
from the dispositions of other women.2 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 pei-son is
dearer to my heart than this same Phaedria ; and whatever
' Ah wretched VIC I) — Ver. 197. Donatixs remarks that the Poet judi-
ciously reserves that part of the plot to be told here, \vhich Thais did
not relate to Phredria 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 Chairea in his attempt on her.
' From the dispositions of other women) — Ver. 198. Donatus ob-
serves 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, Me-
nander 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.
J
Act II., Sc. L] THE EUNUCH. 77
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
•)
ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.
Enter Ph^dria and Parsieno.
PhvED. Mind that those people are taken there, as I or-
dered.
Par. I'll do so.
Ph^d. And carefully.
Par. It shall be done.
Ph^d. And with all speed.
Par. It shall be done.
Ph^d. 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, Phaedria, to
find any thing as easily as this present will be lost.
Phjed. Together with it, I myself am lost, which concerns
me more nearly. Don't bear this with such a feeling of vex-
ation.
Par. By no means ; on the contrary, I'll see it done. But
do you order any thing else ?
Ph^d. 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.
Ph^d. I shall go into the country and remain there.
Par. I agree with you. {Moves as if going.)
PiiiED. But hark you !
Par. What is it you want?
Ph^d. 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; f9r
78 EUNUCHUS;' [Act It.
either you'll be returning at once, or by-and-by, at night,
want of sleep will be driving you hither.
Ph^d. I'll do some laborious work, that I may be contin-
ually 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.
PiiiED. 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.
Ph^d. 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^ less iticlined 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 Cap-
tain'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
» Not any one was there) — Ver. 226-7. Very nearly the same words
as these occur in the Mostellaria of Plautus, 1. 29, 30 : " Than whom,
hitherto, no one of the youth of all Attica has been considered more
temperate or equally frugal."
So. III.] /niE p:unuch. 79
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 garbf 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 com-
plexion I have, how spruce and well dressed, what portli-
ness 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."! "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 : what-
ever 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
' Nor submit to blows) — Ver. 244. It has been remarked in the Notes
to the Translation of Flautus 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 espe-
cially the character of Gelasimus in the Stichus of Plautus, and the
words of Ergasilus in the Captivi, 1. 88, 90. Diderot, as quoted by
Colman, observes: "This is the only Scene in Terence which I re-
member 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."
80 EUNUCHUS ; * [Act n.
humor them in every thing. This calling is now by far the
most productive."
Par. (apart.) A clever fellow, upon my faith ! From be-
ing fools he makes men mad outright.
Gna. {to himself J 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,^
butchers, cooks, 2 sausage-makers, and fishermen, whom, both
when my fortunes were flourishing and when they were ruin-
ed, 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 fel-
low began to entreat me that I would allow him to learn this
method of me ; I bade him become my follower^ if he could ;
as the disciples of the Philosophers take th^ir named from
the Fhiloso2)hers themselves, so too, the Parasites ought to be
called Gnathonics.
Pak. {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 Pakmeno.) But I see Parmeno, our rival's servant,
waiting before the door of Thais with a soirowful air ; all's
safe ; no doubt these people are finding a cold welcome. Pm
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 wishe?
* Fishmongers) — Ver. 257. "Cetarii;" strictly speaking, " dealers in
large fish."
^ 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 Aiilularia, and the Mercator of Plautus, and the
Notes to Bohn's Translation. See also a remark on the knavish char-
acter of the sausage-makers in the Truculentus of Plautus, 1. 110.
^ Become my follower) — Ver. 2G2. " 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 "sectas."
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 Gna-
tho as the founder of this new school.
Sc. III.] THE EUNUCH. 81
Gnatho greets Parmeno, his very good friend. — What are you
doing '?
Par. I'm standing. ^
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. Eeally, not amiss.
Gna. (aside.) Pve galled the fellow.
Par. (aside, on overhearing him.) Kow mistaken you are in
your notion !
Gna. How far do you suppose this gift will prove accept-
able 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 ?/oz<.
» 7'wi s«anc?t«^)— Ver. 271. "Quid agitur?" "Statur." The same
joke occurs in the Psoudolus of Plautus, 1. 457. "Quid agitur? Sta-
tur hie ad hunc modum?" "What is going on?" or "What are you
about?" "About standing here in this fashion;" assuming an atti-
tude. 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 ren-
ders 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 per-
ceives 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 vou ?' "
D2
82 EUNUCHUS; [Act II.
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 knoclcs at the door, which imme-
diatehj 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 ivith Pam-
PHILA, 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 linger, assuredly I'll cause to be kicking at that door
full oft, with your heels, to no purpose.
lie-enter GNATiio/rom 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 he 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,^ for he is at present on guard there in the public serv-
ice. 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 Chjerea on the other side of the stage, in haste.
Cum. (to himself.) I'm utterly undone I The girl is no-
I ^ From the Pirceus) — Ver. 290. The Pirteus 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 The-
mistocles, 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.
Sj. v.] the eunuch. 83
where ; nor do I know where I am myself, to hiivc 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 ev-
ery-day beauties.
Par. {apart.) Why look, here's the other one. He's say-
ing something, I don't know what, about love. O unfortu-
nate 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.
QiiM. (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 ?
Ch^. 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?
Ch^. I'm in love.
Par. (starting.) Ha!
Ch^. Now, Parmeno, you may show what sort of a man
you are. You know that you often promised me to this effect :
" Ch^erea, 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.^
Par. To the point, you simpleton.
Cii^. 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
' In your little room) — Ver. 310, Though " cellulam" seems to be
considered by some to mean, "cupboard" or "larder," it is moi-e prob-
able that it here signifies the little room which was appropriated to each
slave in the family for his own use.
84 EUNUCHUS; [Act II.
anxious to have with shoulders kept dQwn, and chests well
girthed,- that they may be slender. If one is a little inclined
to plumpness, they declare that she's training for a boxer,^
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 ?
Chje. a new style of beauty.
Pah, {ironically.) Astounding!
Cii^. Her complexion genuine,^ her flesh firm and full of
juiciness.*
Par. Her age?
QiiM. Her age ? Sixteen.
Par. The very flower of youth. ^
Ch^. Do you make it your care to obtain her for me ei-
ther by force, stealth, or entreaty ; so that I only gain her,
it matters not how to me.
^ Shoidders kept down and chests well girthed) — Ver. 314. Ovid, in the
Art of Love, B. iii,, 1. 274, alludes to the " stropliium" or "girth" here
referred to: "For liigh shoulders, small pads are suitable; and let the
girth encircle the bosom that is too prominent." Becker thinks that
the " strophium" was ditferent from the " fascia" or " stomacher," men-
tioned in the Ilemedy of Love, 1. 338 r "Does a swelling bosom cover
all her breast, let no stomacher conceal it." From Martial we learn
that the "strophium" was made of leather.
^ Training for a boxer) — Ver. 315. "Pugilem." This means "ro-
bust as a boxer," or " athlete." These persons were naturally consid-
ered as the types of robustness, being dieted for the purpose of increas-
ing their flesh and muscle.
' Complexion gemdne) — Ver. 318. "Color verus." The same ex-
pression is used by Ovid, in the Art of Love, B. iii,, 1. 164 : "Et melior
vero qua3ritur arte color:" "And by art a color is sought superior to
the genuine one."
* Full of juiciness) — Ver. 318. "Succi plenum." A similar expres-
sion occurs in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, 1. 787, where Peripleco-
menus wishes inquiry to be made for a woman who is " siccam, at suc-
cidam," " sober, but full of juice :" i. e. replete with the plumpness and
activity of youth.
* The very flower of youth) — Ver. 319. Ovid makes mention of the
"flos" or "bloom" of youth, Art of Love, B. ii., 1. 663: "And don't
5'ou inquire what year she is now passing, nor under what Consulshii)
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."
Sc. v.] THE EUNUCH. 85
Par. Well, but to whom does the damsel belong *?
Ch^. That, i'faith, I don't know.
Par. Whence did she come?
Ch^. That, just as much.
Par. Where does she live %
QnM. Nor yet do I know that.
Par. Where did you see her ? ,
Cii^. In the street.
Par. How did you come to lose her ?
Cylm. 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?
Cii^. Do you ask me ? Do you know Archidemides, my
father's kinsman and years'-mate ?
Par. Why not ?
CuiE. He, while I was in full pursuit of her, met me.
Par. Unseasonably, upon my faith.
Ch^e. Aye, unhappily, rather; for other ordinanj 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
afatahty? What do you say?
Par. Extremely so.
CiiM. At once he came running up to me, from a consider-
able distance, stooping, palsied, hanging his lip, and wheezing.
"Halloo, Chaerea ! 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," sa/cZ he. "What then?" "Be sure and
tell your father to remember and be my advocate^ in the
' Be my advocate) — Ver. 340. "Advocatus." It must be remem-
bered 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 dis-
pute 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 "advo-
86 EUNUCHUS ; [Act II.
morning." In talking of this, an hour elapsed.^ 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, slie
had that very instant turned this way down this street of
ours.
Par. (ciside.) It's a wonder if he doesn't mean her who has
just now been made a present of to Thais here.
CuiE. When I got here, she was nowhere to be seen.
Par. Some attendants, I suppose, were accompanying the
girl?
Cn^. Yes ; a Parasite, and a female servant.
Par. (apart.) It's the very same. {To Chorea.) It's all
over with you; make an end of it; you've said your last.'-
Ch^. You are thinking about something else.
Par. Indeed I'm thinking of this same matter.
Cii^. 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.
Cum. 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. ^ She has been made a present to her.
Ch^. What opulent person is it, to be presenting a gift so
precious as this ?
Par. The Captain Thraso, Pha^dria's rival.
cati" of Demipho. See also the Paiimlus of Plaiitns, and tlie Notes to
that Play in Bohn's Translation.
^ An hour elapsed) — Ver. 341. "Hora" is here nsed to signify the
long time, that, in his impatience, it appeared to him to be.
' iCs all over with you, — you!ve said your last) — Ver. 34:7. "Ilicet"
and "conclamatum 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. " Con-
clamare," implied the ceremony of calling upon the dead person by
name, before light was set 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 sig-
nify that all hope has gone.
^ Thais the Courtesan) — Ver. 352. Cooke remarks here, somewhat
hypercritically as it would seem: "Thais is not called 'mei-etrix' hei-e
opprobriously, but to distinguish her from other ladies of the same name,
who were not of the same profession."
1
Sc. v.] THE EUNUCH. 87
Ch^. An unpleasant business for my brother, it should
seem.
Par. Aye, and if you did but know what present he is pit-
ting against this present, you would say so still more.
Ch^. Troth now, what is it, pray ?
Par. a Eunuch.^
Ch^. What! that unsightly creature, pray, that he pur-
chased yesterday, an old woman ?
Par. That very same.
Ch-<e. 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.
PAii. It isn't long since she came.
Cum. 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 P
Par. Quite.
Cum. But nothing in comparison with this damsel of mine ?
Par. Another thing altogether.
Cum. Troth now, Parmeno, prithee do contrive for me to
gain possession of her.
Par. ril do my best, and use all my endeavors ; I'll lend
you my assistance. {Going.) Do you want any thing else
with me?
Cum. Where are you going now ?
Par. Home ; to take those slaves to Thais, as your brother
ordered me.
Cum. Oh, lucky Eunuch that ! really, to be sent as a pres-
ent to that house !
^ A Eunuch) — Ver. 356. Eumiclis formed part of the estabiishment
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 "reginse," or "great ladies," would make him a not unacceptable
present. See the Addresses of Ovid to the Eunuch Bagoiis in the
Amours, B. ii.. El. 2, 3.
^ As she is reported to be) — Ver. 361. Donatus remarks this as an
instance of the art of Terence, in pi-eserving the probability of Chorea'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.
88 EUNUCHUS; [Act II., Sc. V.
Par. Why so? •
Cum. Do you ask ? He will always see at home a fellow-
servant of consummate beauty, and be conversing with her ;
he will be in the same house with her; sometimes he will
take his meals with her ; sonietimes sleep near her.
Par. What now, if you yourself were to be this fortunate
person "?
CniE. By what means, Parmeno ? Tell me.
Par. Do you assume his dress.
Ch^. His dress ! Well, what then 1
Par. ril take you there instead of him.
Ch^. (imising.) I hear t/ou.
Par. ril say that you are he.
CnjE. I understand you.
Par. You may enjoy those advantages which you just
now said he ivould 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 ac-
quainted with you, nor yet knows who you are. Besides,
you are of an age jind figure that you may easily pass for a
eunuch.
Ch^. 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.
Ch^. You talk nonsense.
Par. Pm undone ! Wretch that I am! what have I done?
(Chjerea 2^ushes him along.') Whither are you pushing me?
You'll throw me down presently. I entreat you, be quiet.
CuiE. Let's be off. {Pushes him.)
Par. Do you still persist ?
Cum. I am resolved upon it.
Par. Only take care that this isn't too rash a project.
CHiE. Certainly it isn't ; let me alone for that.
Par. Aye, but I shall have to pay the penalty^ for this ?
^ Have to pay the penalty') — Ver. 381. "In me cudetur fsiba," lit-
erally, "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 exjjression, 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 liave not moistened thorn
Act III., Sc. I.] THE EUNUCH. 89
CiiiE. Pshaw!
Par. We shall be guilty of a disgraceful action.
Ch^. What, is it disgraceful^ to be taken to the house of
a Courtesan, and to return the compliment upon those tor-
mentors who treat us and our youthful age so scornfully, and
who are always tormenting us in every way ; — to dupe tliem
just as we are duped by them? Or is it right and proper
that in preference my father should be wheedled out of his mon-
ey by deceitful pretexts % Those Avho knew of this would blame
me ; while all would think the other a meritorious act.
Pak. What's to be done in such case? If you are determ-
ined to do it, you must do it : but don't you by-and-by be
throwing the blame upon me.
Ch^. I shall not do so.
Par. Do you order me, then ?
Ch^. I order, charge, and command you ; I will never dis-
avow my authorizing you.
Par. Follow me ; may the Gods prosper it ! {They go into
the house of Laches.)
ACT THE THIRD.
Scene I.
Enter Tiiraso 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.
sufficiently, being sure to have them thrown at their heads, as though
for the purpose of softening them. Neither of these sohitions seems so
probable as that suggested by Madame Dacier, that dried beans were
inserted in the thongs of the "scuticie," or "whips," with which the
slaves were beaten. According to others the loiots in the whips were
only called "fabae," from their resemblance to beans.
^ Is it disgraceful) — Ver. 382. Donatus remarks that here Terence
obhquely defends the subject of the Play.
90 EUNUCHUS; [Act III.
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.
TiiRA. Undoubtedly it is the case with me, that every thing
I do is a cause for thankfulness.
GrNA. Upon my faith, I've observed it.
TiiRA. The .most mighty King,^ even, always used to give
me especial tlianks 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 thj^t has been achieved by the
labor of others.
TiiRA. You've just hit it.2
Gna. The king, then, kept you in his eye.^
TiiRA. Just so.
Gna. To enjoy your society.
Thra. True ; he intrusted to me all his army, all his state
secrets.
' The most mighty King)— Ycr. 397. It has been suggested that Da-
rius 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 anachro-
nism, 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 fa^^ored with the services of Pyrgopolinices, the "Braggart Cap-
tain" of Plautus, in the Miles Gloriosus. See 1. 75 in that Play ; " For
King Seleucus entreated me with most earnest suit that I would raise
and enlist recruits for him."
^ 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 remai-k that the previous words of Gnatho, though spoken with
reference to the King, contain a reproach against the Captain's boast-
fulness, though his vanity will not let him perceive it.
^ In his eye) — Ver. 40L "In oculis" is generally supposed to mean
"as dearly ih his eyes." As, however, the Satraps of the East were
called "the king's eyes," those who suppose that Darius^s alluded to,
might with some ground consider the passage as meaning that the king
ranked him in the number of his nobles. See the Painulus of Plautus,
\. 693, and the Note in Bohn's Translation.
Sc. I.] THE EUNUCH. 91
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?^
Gna. I know ; just as though on occasion he would rid his
mind of those anxieties.
TiiRA. You have it. Then he used to take me aside as
his only boon companion.
Gna. Whew ! You are tellinpr of a Kin<? of refined taste.
Thra. Aye, he is a person of that sort ; a man of but very
few acquaintanceships.
Gna. (aside.) Indeed, of none,^ I fancy, if he's on intimate
terms with you.
Thra. All the people envied me, and attacked me private-
ly. I don't care one straw. They envied me dreadfully;
but one in particular, whom the King had appointed over the
Indian elephants.^ Once, when he became particularly troub-
lesome, " Prithee, Strato," said I, " are you so fierce because
you hold command over the wild beasts f
Gna. Cleverly said, upon my faith, and shrewdly. Astound-
ing ! 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. AYell then, about that matter, Gnatho, the way in
which I touched up the Ehodian at a banquet — did I never
tell you '?
^ 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.
^ Indeed, of none) — Ver. 410. "Immo, nullorum arhitror, 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."
^ Ocer the Indian elephants) — Ver. 413. Here he shows his lofty posi-
tion to perfection ; he dares to take down the pride of one who com-
manded even the royal elephants. The Braggart Captain of Plautus
comes into collision with the elephants themselves: 1. 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 !"
92 EUNUCHUS; [Act III.
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 f said I to the fellow;
"a hare yourself, and looking out for gamef ^
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 fan-
cied 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 dy-
ing with laughter; in short, they were all quite afraid of me.
Gna. Not without reason.
Tqra. 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 Phaedria or commends him, to provoke
you
^ Looking out for game?) — Ver. 42G. "Pulmen turn," more strictly-
speaking, "A nice bit." Patrick has the following Note on this pas-
sage : " ' Lepus tute es, et pulmentum qiiaris ?' 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 mis-
tress?'" We learn from Donatus and Vopiscus, that Livius Androni-
cus 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 an>.
cient naturalists that the hare was in the habit of changing its sex.
Sc. II.] THE EUNUCH. 93
Thka. I understand.
Gna. That such may not be the case, this method is the
only remedy. When she speaks of Pha^dria, do you instantly
mention Pamphila. If at any time she says, " Let's invite
Phaedria 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,^ 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 hy 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? Plow
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 de-
clare that he was born for his belly's sake.
^ 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 absm-dity 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
ppened the Scene."
94 EUNUCHUS; [Act III.
TiiRA. 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! Parraeno; well done ; /M5i{ going out for the
day.
Par. Where?
Thais, {aside, pointinrj at Tiiraso.) Why ! don't you see
him "?
Par. (aside.) I see him, and I'm sorry for it. (Aloud.)
Pha^dria's presents are ready for you when you please.
TiiRA. (impatiently.) AVhy are we to stand here ? Why
don't we be oflf?
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.) Slie comes
all the way from Ethiopia.
Thra. (contenip)tuously.) Here are some three mina3 in
value.
Gna. Hardly so much.
Par. Where are you, Dorus ? Step this way.
Enter Chorea from the house, dressed like the Eunuch.
Par. There's a Eunuch for you — of what a genteel appear-
ance 1 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,^
^ In exercises) — Ver. 477. Reference will be found made to the
"palestra," or "places of exercise," in the Notes to the Translation of
Plautus.
Sc. II.] THE EUNUCH. 95
and in music; I'll warrant him well skilled in what it be-
comes a gentleman to know.
TriRA. That Eunuch, if occasion served, ^ even in my sobei'
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, when-
ever you think fit, whenever you have the time, he is satisfied
to be admitted.
Tiika. {to Gnatiio, 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 yon
can bring yourself to flatter that fellow {pointing at Thraso),
I do believe you could pick your victuals out of the vei^
flames.^
Thra. Are we to go now %
Thais. I'll take these in-doors first {pointing to Ch^erea
and the ^tihopian), and at the same time I'll order what I
wish; after that I'll return immediately. {Goes into the house
u'ith Pythias, Chjsrea, and the Slave.)
TiiRA. {to Gnatiio.) 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.
TiiRA. Why should I use many words with you ? You are
the very ape of your master. {Exit Parmeno.
Gna. {laughing.) Ha, ha, ha!
^ If occasion served) — Ver. 479. The Ai^osiopesis in this line is very
aptly introduced, on account of the presence of the female ; but it ad-
mirably illustrates the abominable turpitude of the speaker, and perhaps
in a sotnewhat more decent manner than that in which Plautus attrib-
utes a similar tendency to his Braggart Captain, 1. 1111.
^ Out of the very flames) — Yer. 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 snatch-
ing these things out of the flames.
96 EUNUCHUS; [Act III.
TiiKA. What are you laughing at?
Gna. At what you were mentioning just now ; that say-
ing, too, about the Rhodian, recurred to my mind. But Thais
is coming out.
TiiRA. You go before ; take care that every thing is ready
at home.
Gna. Very well. {Exit.
He-enter Thais, with Pythias and Female Attendants.
Thais. Take care, Pythias, and be sure that if Chremes
should happen to come,^ 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. AVell, 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 TuTiASO, folloived hy 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 sacri-
fice,2 and that she was desirous to speak upon some im-
portant business with me. Even then I had a suspicion
^ If Chremes should happen to come) — Ver. 513. This is the first alki-
sion to the arrangement which ultimately causes the quarrel between
Thais and the Captain.
^ Had been offering a sacrifice) — Ver. 513. It was the custom to sac-
rifice before entering on affairs of importance. Thus, too, Jupiter, in
the Amphitryon of Plautus, 1. 938, speaks of offering sacrifice on his
safe return.
I
Sc. IV.] THE EUNUCH. 97
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, wheth-
er 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 trouble-
some ; 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 /rom 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.
E
98 . EUNUCHUS; [Act III.
Pytii. (calling at the door.) Here, Dorias (Dokias enters),
show this person directly to the Captain's.
{Exit Chremes ivith Dohias, Pythias goes into the house.
Scene V.
Enter Antipho.
Ant. {to himself.) Yesterday some young fellows of us
agreed together at the Piraeus that we were to go shares to-
day in a club-entertainment. We gave Chasrea charge of this
matter ; our rings were given^ as pledges ; the place and time
arranged. The time has now gone by ; at the place appoint-
ed there was nothing ready. The fellow himself is nowhere
to he met with; I neither know what to say nor what to sup-
pose. Now the rest have commissioned me with this busi-
ness, to look for him. Til 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 Chorea from the house of Thais, in the Eunuch's
dress.
Ch^e. {looldng around, then aloud to himself.) Is there
any body 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 !
' 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., 1. 168.
I
Sc. VI.] THE EUNUCH. 99
now assuredly is the time for me to meet my death, ^ when I
can so well endure it ; lest my life shoufld 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 ques-
tions ; 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.) Chserea, 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 ?
Cii^. 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. Fray, do tell me what all this means.
Ch^. 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 ?
CHiE. The very same.
Ant. So far I recollect.
QnjE.. 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 ?
Ch^. If you saw her, I am sure you would say she's ex-
quisite. 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, Parmcno, our servant,
made a suggestion to me, which I adopted.
^ 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."
100 EUNUCHUS ; [Act III.
Ant. What was it?
Ch^. Be quiet, dnd 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 ?
Cii^. The fact.
Ant. To receive what advantage, pray, from this plan?
Ch^. 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 ?
CiiM. To me.
Ant. (ironicallij.) In perfect safety, at all events.
Chje. She gave orders that no 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.^ Looking
bashfully on the ground, I nodded assent.
Ant. {ironically.') Poor fellow !
Ch^. (coniimcing.) " I am going out," said she, " to dinner."
She took her maids with her ; a few novices of girls^ re-
mained, to be about her. These immediately made prepara-
tions 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,^ in which was represented
how Jove* is said once to have sent a golden shower into the
bosom of Danae. I myself began to look at it as well, and
^ In the inner apartments) — Ver. 579. The "Gyneca;a," 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.
^ A few novices of girls) — Ver. 582. These "novicise" were young
slaves recently bought, and intended to be trained to the calHng of a
Courtesan,
^ At a certain painting) — Ver. 584. See the story of Jupiter and
Danae, the daughter of Acrisius, king of Argos, in the Metamorphoses
of Ovid, B. iv., 1. 610. Pictures of Venus and Adonis, and of Jupiter
and Ganymede, are mentioned in the Menaechmi of Plautus ; 1. 144,
and paintings on the walls are also mentioned in the Mostellaria of
Plautus, 1. 821, where Tranio tries to impose upon Theuropides by pre-
tending to point out a picture of a crow between two vultures.
* How Jove) — Ver. 584. Donatus remarks here that this was " a very
1
Sc. VI-l THE-EUNtJGII. 101
as Le had in former times played the like game, I felt ex-
tremely delighted that a God should change himself into mon-
ey, 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 heav-
en wifrii his thunders. Was I, a poor creature of a mortal,^
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 or-
ders. One came up, " Here, Dorus," said she, " take this
fan,2 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 !
CuiE. {continuing.) Hardly had she said this, when all, in a
moment, betook themselves off: away they went to bathe, and
chattered aloud ;3 just as the way is when masters are absent.
Meanwhile, sleep overtook the damsel ; I slily looked askance'*
proper piece of furniture for the house of a Courtesan, giving an exam-
ple 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 Danae, in a shower
of gold. Oh the avarice of harlots !"
' 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 pre-
ceding line is said by Donatus to be a parody on a passage by Ennius.
^ Take this fan) — Ver. 595. As to the fans of the ancients, see the
Trinummus of Plautus, 1. 252, and the Note to the passage in Bohn's
Translation. See also the Amours of Ovid, B. iii.. El. 2, 1. 38.
^ 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 tlie while an old woman was rubbing their backs."
* I slily looked askance) — Ver. GOl. This way of looking aside, "li-
mis," is mentioned in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, where Milphi-
dippa tells Acroteleutium to look at the Captain sideways, "Aspicito
limis," 1. 1217; also in the Bacchides, 1. 1131. Those familiar with
the works of Ilogarth will readily call to mind the picture of Bedlam
102 EUNUDHUS; [Act III., Sc. VI.
through the fan ;^ 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?
CniE. ¥A\% What then, you simpleton?
Ant. I own I am.
Cii^. AVas I to let slip the opportunity offered me, so ex-
cellent, so short-lived,^ so longed for, so unexpected. In that
case, i'faith, I really should have been the person I was pre-
tending to be.
Ant. Troth, you certainly are in the right ; but, meantime,
.what has been arranged about the club-entertainment %
Cum. All's ready.
Ant. You are a clever hand ; but where? At your house?
CHiE. No, at Discus's, our freedman.
Ant. That's a long way off.
Ch^. Then let's make so much the greater haste.
Ant. Change your dress.
Cii^E. 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
ho should have returned from the country by this.
Ant. Let's go to my house ; there is the nearest place for
you to change.
Cii^. 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
in the Rake's Progress, where the young woman is looking askance
through her fan at the madman in his cell.
^Through the fan) — Ver. 602. This shows that the fan was probably
one made of thin boards, and not of feathers.
2 go short-lived) — Ver. 605. Colman has the following Note here :
" Short indeed, considering the number of incidents, which, according
to Chaerea'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 Chagrea; so that all this A-ariety of business of
sleeping, bathing, ravishing, &c., is dispatched during the two soliloquies
of Antipho and Charea, 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."
J
Act IV., Sc. I.] THE EUNUCH. 103
ACT TPIE FOURTH.
Scene I.
Enter Dorias, ivith 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 dam-
sel, arrived, she begged the Captain to order him to be ad-
mitted ; 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 ; be-
cause 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. Mean-
while my mistress secretly took off her golden jewels,^ 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.)
^ Took off her (/olden jewels) — Vcr. 627. This was probably because
it was contrary to the laws of Athens for a Courtesan to appear Avith
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 ap-
pear at table with strangers.
104 EUNUCHUS ; [Act IV.
Scene II.
Enter Phjedria.
PiiiED. {to hhnself.) While I was going' 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 feeU
ing quite uneasy ; when I came to the very turning that leads
to the house, I came to a stop, and began to reason with my-
self; "What! must 1 stay here alone for two days without
her? Well, and what then? It's nothing at all. Vv'hat?
Nothing at all? Well now, if I haven't the pr^ilege of touch-
ing 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'^ 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 <?/ Thais.
Pytii. {aloud.) Where, wretch that I am, shall I find this
wicked and impious fellow? Or where look for him ? That
^ While I was going) — Ver. G29. Donatus remarks that here the Poet
artfully finds a reason to bring Phtedria 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.
^ At a distance) — Ver. 640. "Extrema linea." There have been
manv 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 how-
ever 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 prima linea;" the next, "in secun-
da ;" and so on to the last, who took the widest range, and was said to
run " in extrema linea."
I
Sc. III.] THE EUNUCH. 105
he should dare to commit so audacious a crime as this ! I'm
ruined outright!
Pii^D. {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.
Ph^d. {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 !
Ph^d. {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, Pha^dria, whom should I be looking for?
Away with you, as you deserve, with such fine presents of
yours.
Ph^d. 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.
Ph^d. What is it you say?
Pyth. I'm ruined outright !
PuiED. You are drunk.
Pyth. I wish that they were so, who wish ill to me.
DoEiAS. Oh, prithee, my dear Pythias, whht a monstrous
thing this is !
Ph^d. You arc 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 some-
thing away from the house.
Piled. I can not enough wonder, whither this varlet can
possibly have betaken himself to any distance from here ; un-
less perhaps he has returned home to our house.
Pyth. Pray, go and see whether he is there.
ViiMD. I'll let you know immediately. {Goes into the house
of Lachejj.)
E 2
106 EUNUCHUS ; [Act IV.
DoRiAS. Euined 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 IY.
Enter Ph^dkia from the house of Laches, ivith DoRUS in
Chorea's clothes.
Ph^d. (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 !
Pn^D. 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 ?
PniED. Caught him, why not ?
Pyth, O well done !
Dorias. Upon my faith that really is capital !
Pyth. Where is he ?
Ph^d. Do you ask the question? Don't you see him?
(Pointing to the Eunuch.)
Pyth. {staring about.) See whom, pray ?
Ph^d. This fellow, to be sure (pointing).
Pyth. What person is this?
Ph^d. The same that was brought to your house to-day.
Pyth. Not one of our people has ever beheld this person
with her eyes, Phaedria.
Ph^d. Not beheld him ?
Pyth. Prithee, did you fancy that this was he Avho was
brought to our house?
Ph^d. Why, I had no other.
I
Sc. IV.] THE EUNUCH. 107
Pyth. O dear! this one really isn't to be compared with
the other. He was of a handsome and genteel appear-
ance.
Filed. He seemed so, just then, because he was decked out
in party-colored clothes:^ now he appears ugly, for this rea-
son— because he hasn't got them on.
Pytii. 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, Phasdria, you would have liked
to look upon. This is a withered, antiquated, lethargic, old
fellow, with a speckled complexion.^
PiiuED. {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 ?
DoKUS. You did buy me.
Pytii. Bid him answer me in my turn.
Phjed. 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.
Ph^d. {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. Chaerea came.
PiiiED. What, my brother ?
DoRUS. Yes.
Ph^d. When?
DoRUS. To-day.
Pn^D. How long since ?
DoRus. Just now.
PuuED. With whom ?
DoRus. With Parmeno.
- 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.
* With a speckled coviplexion) — Ver. 689. "Colore stellionino ;"
probably having spots or freckles on his face like a "stellio" or
" lizard."
108 EUNUCHUS ; [Act IV.
Ph^d. Did you know liim before ?
Doiius. No.
Piled. Plow did you know he was my brother ?
DoRUS. Parmeno said he was. He gave me these clothes.
PiiiED. Pm 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?
Piled. Avaunt, you beast, do you believe what he says ?
Pyth. What is there to believe? The thing speaks for
itself.
Pii^D. {apart to DoRUS.) Step aside a little this way. Do
you hear ? (Dorus ste2:)s aside.) A little further still. That
will do. Now tell me this once more ; did Chaerea take your
clothes oiF you ?
Dorus. He did.
Pii^D. And did he put them on ?
Dorus. He did.
Pn^D. And. was he brought here instead of you ?
Dorus. Yes.
Pii^D. Great Jupiter! O wicked and audacious fellow !
Pyth. Woe unto me! Now at last will you believe that
Ave have been insulted in a disgraceful manner ?
Ph^ed. It is no wonder that you believe what the fellow
says. (Aside.) What I'm to do I know not. (Aside to Do-
rus.) Hark you, deny it all again. (Aloud.) Can I not this
day extract the truth from you ? Did you really see my broth-
er Chasrea?
Dorus. No.
Ph^d. He can't be brought to confess without being pun-
ished, 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, Pha3dria.
Pii^^D. (kicking him.) Be off in-doors.
Dorus. Oh ! oh !
Ph^d. (aside.) How in any other fashion to get decently
out of this I don't know; for really it's all up ivith me.
(Aloud, with pretended indignation.) Will you be trifling with
me even here, you knave ? (Follows Dorus into the house.)
Sc. VI.] THE EUNUCH. ' 109
Scene V.
Pythias and Dorias.
Pyth. I'm as certain that this is the contrivance of Parme-
no as that I'm alive.
DoEiAS. 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.^ 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 1
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 Ciikemes, 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!
' Have done a service to her) — Ver. 722. Though some would have
" illi" here to refer to the damsel, and others again to Pheedria, it is
pretty clear that Madame Dacier is right in suggesting that Thais is
the person meant. ''
110 ' EUNUCHUS; [Act IV.
Chrem. {twming 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 cer-
tain.
Chkem. Upon my faith, it is a true saying, that *' Venus
grows cold without Ceres and Bacchus." But has Thais got
here long before me ?
.Pytii. 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.
I
Sc. VII.] THE EUNUCH. Ill
Chrem. (starling.) Hah! •
Thais. What's the matter? She has been brought up in a
manner worthy of yourself and of her.
CiiKEM. 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.^
Chrem. (looHng down the side Scene.) Don't you see him,
Thais?
Pith, (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 bring-
ing 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 r 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 pre-
vent it, than, having received an injury, avenge ourselves
^ Casket with the tokens) — Yer. 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.
^ Is a foreigner) — Ver. 758. And therefore the more unlikely to ob-
tain redress from an Athenian tribunal. See the Andria, 1. 811, and
the Note to the passage.
112 EUNUCHUS; [Act IV.
upon liirn. 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.
Chkem. 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 ivhen a little girl, and have
now recognized her ; then show the tokens.
Re-enter VxTinx^ from the house, with the trinkets.
Pytii. {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 under-
stand me?
CiniEM. Perfectly.
Tiiy^is. Take care and say this with presence of mind.
CiiKEM. ril take care.
Thais. Gather up your cloak. {Aside.) Undone ! the very
person whom Pve provided as a champion, wants one himself.
{They all go into the house.)
Scene VIlI.
Enter Thraso, followed hy Gnatiio, 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, Bonax,
Syriscus, follow me! First, I'll storm the house.
Gna. Quite right.
Thra. I'll carry off the girl.
Gna. Very good.
TiiRA. 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^ of rogues ?
- And his maniple) — Ver. 775. We learn from the Fasti of Ovid,
B. iii., 1. 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
i
Sc. VJII.] THE EUNUCH. 113
San. {coming forward.) See, here he is.
Thra. What, you booby, do you think of fighting with a
dish-clout, 1 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'? Sanniais 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 -^ from that position
I'll give the word to all. {Talces 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.^
Chremes and Thais aj^j^ear above at a window.
Chrem. Do you see, Thais, what plan he is upon? As-
bear the elevated wisps, from which circumstance the manipular soldier
derives his name." It appears from this passage, and from other au-
thors, 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 com-
pany itself obtained the name of " manipulus," and the soldier, a mem-
ber of it, was called " manipularis." The "centurio," or "leader of a
hundred," was the commanding officer of the "manipulus,"
- 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, dish-
es, or even shoes. See the Meno3chmi of Plautus, ver. 77 and 391.
2 Be behind the second rank) — Ver. 780. "Post principia." The Cap-
tain, 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.
3 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.
1 14 EUNUCHUS ; [Act IV.
suredly, that advice of mine about closing the door was
good.
Thais. He who now seems to yon to be a hero, is in real- '
ity a mere vaporer ; don't be alarmed.
Thra. (to Gnatho.) What seems best to you ?
Gna. I could very much^ like a sling to be given you just
now, that you might pelt them from here on the sly at a dis-
tance ; they wojild 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 hint 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 com-
pulsion ?
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 1 Hold your tongue.
Thra. What do you mean ? Am I not to touch my own ?
Chrem. Your own, indeed, you gallows-bird I^
^ I cotild 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 gi'eatest probabihty that these are really the words of Thais ad-
dressed aside to Chremes.
^ You gallows-bird) — Ver. 797. "Furcifer;" literally, "bearer of the
furca."
Sc. VIII.] ^ THE EUNUCH. 115
Gna. (to Chremes.) Have a care, if you please. You don't
know what kind of man you are abusing now.
Chrem. {to Gnatiio.) 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 array then ?
Thra. Whenever you like.
116 EUNUCHUS; ^ [Act V.
Gna. Sanga, as befits gallant soldiers,^ 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.
TiiRA. {putting himself at their head.) You follow me this
way. {Exeunt omnes.
ACT THE FIFTH.
Scene I.
Ente?' Thais from her house, followed hy Pythias.
Thais. What! do you persist, hussy, in talking ambigu-
ously to me? "I do know;" "I don't know;" "he has
gone off;" "I have heard;" "I wasn't there." Don't you
m«an to tell me plainly, whatever it is? The girl in tears,
w^ith her garments torn, is mute ; the Eunuch is off: for what
reason ? What has happened ? Won't you speak ?
Pytii. 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 Cha3rea.
Thais. What Chosrea?
Pyth. That stripling, the brother of Phoedria.
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 kno-^i*; unless, as I suppose, he was in love
with Pamphila.
Thais. Alas ! to my confusion, unhappy woman that I am,
Tm undone, if what you tell me is true. Is it about this that
the girl is crying?
Pyth. I believe so.
^ 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.
I
Sc. ILJ THE EUNUCH. 117
Thais. How say you, you arch-jade? Did I not warn
you about this very thing, when I was going away from
here ?
Pytii. 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. Plush ! 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 Chorea, in the Eunuch's dress, on the other side of
the stage.
Cum. {to himself.) At Antipho's,^ 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
naiTOW 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 ? AVhat can she do
to me?
^ A t Antipho's) — Ver. 839. Madame Dacier here observes that Chasrea
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 ab-
solutely necessary that Chserea should appear again before Thais in the
habit which he wore while in the house.
118 EUNUCHUS; [Act V.
Thais, {to Pythias.) Let's accost him. {To Chorea.)
Good Mister Dorus, welcome ; tell me, have you been run-
ning away?
Ch^. Madam, I did so.
Thais. Are you quite pleased with it ?
Ch^. No.
Thais. Do you fancy that you'll get off with impunity ?
CniE. Forgive this one fault ; if I'm ever guilty of another,
then kill me.
Thais. Were you in fear of my severity ?
Ch^. No.
Thais. No ? What then ?
Cum. {pointing at Pythias.) I was afraid of her, lest she
might be accusing me to you.
Thais. What had you done ?
Ch^. a mere trifle.
Pyth. Come now, a trifle, you impudent fellow. Does this
appear a trifle to you, to ravish a virgin, a citizen?
CiiiE. I took her for my fellow-servant.
Pyth. Fellow-servant ? I can hardly restrain mj^self 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 some-
thing 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. Cha3rea, 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 confound-
ed all my plans, that I can riot possibly return her to her
friends in such a manner as is befitting and as I had intend-
ed; in order that, by this means, I might, Chaerea,.do a real
service to myself
CuiE. 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?
Sell.] THE EUNUCH. 119
Thais. I'faitb, for ir.y own part I both take it in that view
and wish to do so.
Cum. Yes, prithee, do so. Be sure of this one thing, that
I did not do it for the sake of affronting you, but in conse-
quence of passion.
Thais. I understand, and, i'faith, for that reason do I now
the more readily forgive you. I am not, Chasrea, of a dis-
position so ungentle, or so inexperienced, as not to know what
is the power of love.
Ch^. So may the Deities kindly bless me, Thais ; I am
BOW smitten with you as well.
Pyth. Then, i'faith, mistress, I foresee you must have a
care of him.
Cii^. I would not dare
Pyth. I won't trust you at all in any thing.
Thais, {to Pythias.) Do have done.
Ch^. 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
CniE. 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
tlie 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 Chserea, at his recognition of
her.
Cum. I certainly will stay.
Thais. In the mean time, until he comes, would you prefei!
that we should wait for him in the house, rather than here
before the door?
Ch^. 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. 0 dear, prithee, do hold your tongue.
120 EUNUCHUS; [Act V.
Pytii. You seem to me to be far from sensible of his assur-
ance.
CiiM. I'll not do any thing, Pythias.
Pyth. Upon my faith, I don't believe you, Chserea, except
in case you are not trusted.
Ch^. 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.
CniE. I'faith, I'm undone. Prithee, let's be gone in-doors,
Thais. I don't w^ant him to see me in the street with this
dress on.
Thais. For what reason, pray '? Because you are ashamed?
CiiM. Just so.
Pyth. Just so? But the young woman
Thais. Go first; I'll follow. You stay here, Pythias, that
y<^u may show Chremes in. (Thais and Ch^kea go into the
house.)
Scene III.
Enter Ciikemes and Sophrona.
Pyth. {to herself?) Well! what now can suggest itself to
my mind? AVhat, 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
tliem?
Chrem. Yes, with a f«ll recollection of them.
Pyth. Upon my faith, you do bring good news; for I
really wish well to this young M^oman. 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
Sc. V.J THE EUNUCH. 121
I'll go in-doors, that I may know for certain about the dis-
covery ; afterward I'll come out, and give this villain a terri-
ble fright. {Goes into the house.)
Scene IV.
Enter Fakmeno.
Par. (to himself.) I've just come back to see what Chaerea
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 court-
esan, I've found means of satisfying for hira, without molest-
ation, without outlay, and without cost; then, this other
point — that is really a thing that I consider my crowning
merits to have found out the way by which a young man may
be enabled to learn the dispositions and manners of court-
esans, 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 :^ to see the filth, the dirti-
ness, 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 Tythi as from the house.
Pyth. {apart, unseen hj Paemeno.) 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.
^ Pick daintily about) — Ver. 935. He seems here to reprehend the
same practice apjainst which Ovid warns his fair readers, in his Art of
Love, B. iii. 1. 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 eat-
ing ;" and refers to the Bacchides of Plautus as portraying courtesans
of the "ligurient" kind, and finds another specimen in Bacchis in the
Heautontimorumenos.
F
122 EUNUCHUS; [xicx V.
(Aloud, coming forward.) O, by our trust in the Gods, what a
disgraceful action ! O hapless young man ! O wicked Par-
meno, to have brought him here !
Pak. What's the matter ?
Pyth. I do pity him ; and so that I mightn't see it, wretch-
ed 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 un-
lone % I'll accost her. What's all this, Pythias ? What are
^'ou saying ? An example made of whom ?
Pyth. Do you ask the question, you most audacious fel-
low? 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 he; 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 Jie
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.
Pa.r. With v/hat 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 ?
Sc. VI.] THE EUNUCH. 123
Far. Don't let Thais suffer any violence to be done to him.
But why don't I go in myself?
Pyth. Take care, Farmeno, 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.
Far. What then, wretch that I am, shall I do, or how re-
solve '? 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 punish-
ment is in readiness for me ; but it's a matter of necessity, in
order that he may rescue him.
PyTii. 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^ from my coun-
try-house being so nfear at hand ; no weariness, either of coun-
try or of town, ever takes possession of me ; when satiety be-
gins to come on, I change my locality. But is not that our
Farmeno? Surely it is he. Whom are you waiting for,
Farmeno, before the door here ?
Far. {2^retends not to see him.) Who is it '? {Turning rourid.)
Oh, I'm glad that you have returned safe.
Lach. Whom are you waiting for?
Far. {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.
Far. Master, in the first place, I would have you per-
suaded of what is the fact ; whatever has happened in this
affair has happened through no fault of mine.
Lach. What is it 1
1 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 di-
verting to the Audience.
124 EUNUCHUS; [Act V.
Par. Heally you have reason to ask. I ought first to have
told you the circumstances. Phasdria purchased a certain Eu-
nucli, to make a present of to this woman here.
Lacii. To what woman ?
Par. To Thais.
Lacii. Bought? Good heavens, Pm undone! For how
much ?
Par. Twenty miuae.
Lach. Done for, quite.
Par. Then, Ch^erea 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 mis-
fortune close upon another.
Par. Master, don't look S3 at me ; he didn't do these things
by my encouragement.
Lacii. Leave off talking about yourself. If I live, you
hang-dog, I'll But first give me an account of it, what-
ever it is.
Par. lie was taken to the house of Thais in place of the
Eunuch.
Lacii. In place of the Eunuch ?
Par. Such is the fact. They have since apprehended him
in the house as a ravisher, and bound him.
Lacii. Death!
Par. Mark the assurance of courtesans.
. Lacii. Is there any other calamity or misfortune besides,
that you liave not told me of?
Par. That's all.
Lacii. 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^ to do
them a bad turn ; at last he has found it.
^ For some occasion) — Ver. 999. We learn from Donatus that Me-
nander was more exphcit concerning the resentment of Laches against
Thais, on account of her having coiTupted Phsedria.
Sc. VIL] THE EUNUCH. 125
Scene VII.
Enter VYTBiAsfroin the house 0/ 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^ what it was he feared.
Pak. {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.
Pak. 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 for-
merly 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,
^ 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 ter-
ror of Laches accounts for his sudden consent to the union of Chserea
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 Chterea 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."
12G EUNUCIIUS; [Act V.
what do you suppose his feelings must have been at the mo-
ment 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.
Pytii. Exactly so.
Par. By heavens, I'll repay you I
Pytii. I believe you ; but, perhaps, that which you arc
threatening, Parmcno, will need n future day; you'll be truss-
ed 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 Tjours ;'' 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.^
Scene YIII.
Enter Thraso wul Gnatiio.
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 Plercules served Om-
phale.^
' In return for that present of yours) — Ver. 1 022. By the present she
means Chcerea in the disguise of the Eunuch.
' Through betrayal of myself)— Ver. 1023. Which betrays itself by
its own squeaking.
3 Hercules served Omphale) — Ver. 1 026. He alhules 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.
I
Sc. IX.] THE EUNUCH. 127
Gna. The precedent pleases me. (Aside.) I only wish I
may see your head stroked down with a slipper ;^ but her door
makes a noise.
Thra. Confusion ! Why, what mischiefs this ? I never
saw this person before ; why, I wonder, is he rushing out in
such a hurry ? (They stand aside.)
Scene IX.
Enter Cujerex fro7n the house 0/ Thais, on the other side of
the stage.
CiiM. {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
arc bestowed.
Par. (apart.) Why is he thus overjoyed ?
CiiiE. (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 cit-
izen ?
Par. I have heard so.
QuM. Do you know that she is betrothed to me ?
Par. So may the Gods bless me, happily done.
Gna. (apart to Tiiraso.) Do you hear what he says?
CiiiE. 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 ;2 she has put
herself under our care and protection.
1. 305. As to the reappearance of Thraso here, Colman has the follow-
ing 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 essen-
tial part of the poetical justice of Comedy to expose coxcombs to ridi-
cule and to punish them, though without any shocking severity, for their
follies."
^ 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 ar-
ticle of dress, see the Notes to the Trinummus of Plautus, 1. 252.
* To the patronage of my father) — Ver. 1038. It was the custom at
128 EUNUCHUS; [Act V.
Pak. Thais, then, is wholly your brother's.
Ch^. Of course.
Pak. Then this is another reason for us to rejoice, that the
Captain will be beaten out of doors.
CniE. Wherever my brother is, clo you take care that he
hears this as soon as possible.
Pak. I'll go look for him at home. {Goes into the house of
Laches.)
TiiKA. {apart to Gnatiio.) Do you at all doubt, Gnatho,
but that I am now ruined everlastingly?
Gna. {to TiiKASO.) Without doubt, I do think so.
Cii^. {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 opportune-
ly crowded into a single day events so numerous, so import-
ant ; or my father's kindness and indulgence ? Oh Jupiter, I
entreat you, do preserve these blessings unto us !
Scene X.
Enter Ph^edria from the house of Laches.
PhtED. {to himself) Ye Gods, by our trust in you, what
incredible tilings has Parmeno just related to me ! But where
is my brother ?
ChyE. {stepping forward.) Here he is.
PiiyED. I'm overjoyed.
Ch^. 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.
Pn^D. Whew ! are you commending her too to me ?
TiiKA. {apart.) I'm undone; the less the hope I have,
Athens for strangers, such as Thais was, to put themseh'es 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, 1. 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 Avoman."
1
Sc. X.] THE EUNUCH. 129
the more I am in love. Prithee, Gnatho, my hope is in
you.
Gna. {apart.) AVhat do you wish me to do?
Thra. (ctpart.) 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.
TiiRA. {apart.) If you set your mind on any thing, I know
you ivell 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?
Thka. {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 the?i.
PiijLD. Who is it I hear so close at hand? {Turning
round.) O Thraso^
Thra. {coming forward.) Save you hoth-
PHiED. Perliaps you are not aware what has taken place
here.
Thra. I am quite aware.
Pn^D. Why, then, do I see you in this neighborhood ?
Thra. Depending on your kindness.
Ph^d. 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 an-
other person, I was on my road this way," you are undone.
Gna. Come, come, that's not handsome.
Ph^d. I've said it.
Gna. I didn't know you gave yourself such airs.
PHiED. 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.
Ph^d. 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 ad-
vantage to yourselves, it would be folly for you not to do it.
F 2
130 EUNUCHUS; [Act V.
Ph^.d. What is it?
Gna. I'm of opinion that the Captain, your rival, should
be received among you.
Pu^D. {starting.) Hah !
Cum. Be received ?
Gna. {to Ph^dkia.) Only consider. I'faith, Phasdria, 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 sup-
plied for your amour and not at your own expense, there is
not an individual better suited or more fitted for your pur-
pose 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.
Cii^. {to Ph^edria.) 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.
Ch^. It's a wonder if this sort of man can not be made
^use of in some way or other.
PiiiED. 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^ for a considerable time past.
Ph^d. We admit you.
Ch^. And with all my heart.
Gna. Then I, in return for this, Pheedria, and you, Chagrea,
make him over to you*^ to be eaten and drunk to the dregs.
CiiiE. Agreed.
PHiED. He quite deserves it.^
' 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, im-
mediately fell to the bottom.
^ 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.
" He quits deserves it)— Ver 1087. Cooke has the following appropri-
Sr. X.] THE EUNUCH. 131
Gna. {calling to Tiikaso.) Thraso, whenever you please,
«*tep this way.
Thka. 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 PiiJEDRiA and Ch^eea.) Didn't I tell you that
he was a master of the Attic elegance ?
Ph^d. He is no other than you mentioned. {Pointing to
his Father's housed Walk this way. {To the Audience.)
Fare you well, and grant us your applause.
ate remark: "I can not think that this Play, excellent as it is in al-
most all other respects, concludes consistently with the manners of
gentlemen ; there is a meanness in Phredria and Chserea consenting to
take Thraso into their society, with a view of fleecing him, which the
Poet should have avoided."
HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS;
THE SELF-TORMENTOR.
DKAMATIS PERSONS.
Chkemes,' an old gentleman, living in the country.
Menedemus,^ an old gentleman, his neighbor.
. Clinia,^ son of Menedemus.
Clitipiio,* son of Chremes.
Dromo,^ son of Clinia.
Syrus,'' servant of Clitipho.
SosTRATA,' wife of Chremes.
Antipiiila,^ a young woman beloved by Clinia.
Bacchis,^ a Courtesan, the mistress of Clitipho,
The Nurse of Antiphila.
Piirygia,^" maid-servant to Bacchis.
Scene. — In the country, near Athens ; before the houses of Chremes
and Menedemus.
^ See the Dramatis Personam of the Andria.
^ From ^evhg, " strength," and iyfiog, " the people."
^ From K/dvu, " to incline," or from kIlvtj, "the marriage-bed."
* From Kkeirb^, "illustrious," and ^wf, "light."
^ See the Dramatis Persona? of the Andria.
^ From Syria, his native country.
■^ From (7w|^w, "to preserve," or "save."
^ From avrl, " in return," and ^fAw, " to love."
From Bacchus, the God of Wine.
^° From Phrygia, her native country.
THE SUBJECT.
CiiREMES commands his wife, when pregnant, if she is delivered of a
girl immediately to kill the child. Having given birth to a girl, Sos-
trata delivers her to an old woman named Philtera to be exposed.
Instead of doing this, Philtera calls her Antiphila, and brings her up
as her own. Clinia, the son of Menedemus, falls in love with her,
and treats her as though his wife. Menedemus, on learning this, is
very angry, and by his harsh language drives away his son from home.
Taking this to heart, and in order to punish himself for his ill-timed
severity, Menedemus, though now an aged man, fatigues himself by
laboring at agricultural pursuits from morning till night. At the pe-
riod when the Play commences, Clinia has just returned to Attica,
but not daring to go to his father's house, is entertained by Clitipho,
the son of Chremes, who is the neighbor of Menedemus. Clitipho
then sends for Antiphila, whose supposed mother has recently died,
to come and meet her lover. On the same day, Chremes learns from
Menedemus how anxious he is for his son's return ; and on hearing
from his son of the arrival of Clinia, he defers informing Menedemus
of it until the next day, Syrus, the servant who has been sent to
fetch Antiphila, also brings with him Bacchis, an extravagant Court-
esan, the mistress of Clitipho. To conceal the truth from Chremes,
they represent to him that Bacchis is the mistress of Clinia, and that
Antiphila is one of her maids. Next morning Chremes informs Men-
edemus of his son's arrival, and of the extravagant conduct of his
mistress, but begs that he will conceal from Clinia his knowledge of
this fact. Bacchis requiring ten minai, Syrus devises a plan for ob-
taining the money from Chremes, while the latter is encouraging him
to think of a project against Menedemus. Syrus tells him a story, that
the mother of Antiphila had borrowed a thousand drachmae of Bac-
chis, and being dead, the girl is left in her hands as a pledge for the
money. While these things are going on, Sostrata discovers in An-
tiphila her own daughter. In order to obtain the money which Bacchis
persists in demanding, Syrus suggests to Chremes that it should be
represented to Menedemus that Bacchis is the mistress of Clitipho, and
that he should be requested to conceal her in his house for a few
days ; it is also arranged that Clinia shall pretend to his father to be
in love with Antiphila, and to beg her as his wife. He is then to ask
for money, as though for the Avedding, which is to be handed over to
Bacchis, Chremes does not at first approve of the plan suggested by
Syrus ; but he pays down the money for which he has been informed
his daughter is a pledge in the hands of Bacchis. This, with his
knowledge, is given to Clitipho, who, as Syrus says, is to convey it to
Bacchis, who is now in the house of Menedemus, to make the latter
more readily believe that she is his mistress. Shortly after this, the
plot is discovered by Chremes, who threatens to punish Clitipho and
Syrus. The Play concludes with Chremes giving his consent to the
marriage ofClinia with Antiphila, and pardoning Clitipho, who prom-
ises to abandon the Courtesan, and marry. Unlike the other Plays
of Terence and Plautus, the Plot of this Play extends over two days.
THE TITLE OF THE PLAY.
It is from the Greek of Menander. Performed at the Mega-
lensian Games ; Lucius Cornelius Lentulus and Lucius Va-
lerius Flaccus being Curule -ZEdiles. Ambivius Turpio
performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius, composed
the music. The first time it was performed to the music
of treble and bass flutes; the second time, of two treble
flutes. It was acted three times ; Marcus Juventius and
Titus Sempronius being Consuls.^
' Being Consuls) — M. Juventius Thalna and Ti. Sempronius Grac-
chus were Consuls in the year from the Building of the City 589, and
B.C. 164.
I
HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS^
THE SELF-TORME^iTOR.
THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.
A SEVERE father compels his son Clinia, in love with Antiphila, to go
abroad to the wars ; and rejienting of what has been done, torments
himself in mind. Afterward, when he has returned, unknown to his
father, he is entertained at the house of Clitipho. .. The latter is in
love with Bacchis, a Courtesan, When Clinia sends for his much-
loved Antiphila, Bacchis comes, as though his mistress, and Antiphi-
la, wearing the garb of her servant ; this is done in order that Cliti-
pho may conceal it from his father. He, through the stratagems of
Syrus, gets ten minai from the old man for the Courtesan. Antiphila
is discovered to be the sister of Clitipho. Clinia receives her, and
Clitipho, another woman, for his wife.
THE PROLOGUE.
Lest it should be a matter of surprise to any one of j^ou, why
the Poet has assigned to an old man^ a part that belongs to the
young, that I will first explain to you ;2 and then, the reason
^ Assigned to an old man) — Ver. ] . He refers to the fact that the Pro-
logue was in general spoken by young men, whereas it is here spoken
by L. Ambivius Turpio, the leader of the Company, a man stricken in
years. The Prologue was generally not recited by a person who per-
formed a character in the opening Scene.
^ That I will first explain to you) — Ver. 3. His meaning seems to be,
that he will first tell them the reason why he, who is to take a part in
the opening Scene, speaks the Prologue, Avhich is usually spoken by a
young man who does not take part in that Scene ; and that he will then
proceed to speak in character (eloquor), as Chremes, in the first Scene.
His reason for being chosen to speak the Prologue, is that he may be a
pleader (orator) for the Poet, a task which would be likely to be better
performed by him than by a younger man.
13G IIEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ;
for my coming I will disclose. An entire Play from an entire
Greek one,^ the Heautontimorumenos, I am to-day about to
represent, which from a two-fold plot^ has been made but one.
I have shown that it is new, and what it is : next I would
mention who it was that wrote it, and whose in Greek it is,
if I did not think that the greater part of you are aware.
Now, for what reason I have learned this part, in a few
words I will explain. The Poet intended me to be a Plead-
er,^ not the Speaker of a Prologue ; your decision he asks, and
has appointed me the advocate ; if this advocate can avail
as much by his oral powers as he has excelled in inventing
happily, who composed this speech which I am about to
recite. For as to malevolent rumors spreading abroad
that he has mixed together many Greek Plays while writing
a few Latin ones, he does not deny that this is the case, and
that he does not repent of so doing ; and he affirms that he
will do so again. He has the example of good Poets; after
which example he thinks it is allowable for him to do what
^ From an entire Greek one) — Ver. 4. In contradistinction to sucli
Plays as the Andria, as to which it was a subject of complaint that it
had been formed out of a mixture (contaminatus) of the Andrian and
Perinthian of Menander.
^ Which from a two-fold plot) — Ver. G. Vollbehr suggests that the
meaning of this line is, that though it is but one Play, it has a two-fold
l)lot — the intrigues of two young men with two mistresses, and the fol-
lies of two old men. As this Play is supposed to represent the events
of two successive days, the night intervening, it has been suggested that
the reading is "duplex — ex argument© — simplici;" the Play is "two-
fold, with but one plot," as extending to two successive days. The Play
derives its name from the Greek woi'ds, iavrbv, " himself," and rc/xopov-
fievog, "tormenting."
^ To he a Pleader) — Ver. 11. He is to be the pleader and advocate
of the Poet, to influence the Audience in his favor, and against his
adversai-ies ; and not to explain the plot of the Play. Colman has the
following observation : " It is impossible not to regret that there are
not above ten lines of the Self-Tormentor preserved among the Frag-
ments of Menander. We are so deeply interested by what we see of
that character in Terence, that one can not but be curious to inquire in
what manner the Greek Poet sustained it through five Acts. The
Koman author, though he has adopted the title of the Greek Play, has
so altered the fable, that Menedemus is soon thrown into the back-
ground, and Chremes is brought forward as the principal object; or, to
vary the allusion a little, the Menedemus of Terence seems to be a
drawing in miniature copied from a full length, as large as the life, by
Menander."
I
THE SELF-TOBMENTOR. 137
they have done. Then, as to a malevolent old Poet^ saying
that he has suddenly applied himself to dramatic pursuits,
relying on the genius of his friends,^ and not his own natural
abilities ; oa that your j udgment, your opinion, v^ill prevail.
Wherefore I do entreat you all, that the suggestions of our
antagonists may not avail more than those of our favorers.
Do you be favorable ; grant the means of prospering to
those Avho afford you the means of being spectators of new
Flays ; those, I mean, without faults ; that he may not suppose
this said in his behalf who lately made the public give way
to a slave as he ran along in the street \^ why should he take
a madman's part? About his faults he will say more when
he brings out some other new ones, unless he puts an end to
his caviling. Attend with favorable feelings; grant me the
opportunity that I may be allowed to act a quiet Play^ in
^ A malevolent old Poet) — Ver. 22. He alludes to his old enemy, Lais-
cus Lavinius, referred to in the preceding Prologue.
2 The genius of his friends) — Ver. 2-t. He alludes to a report Avhicli
had been spread, that his friends Laslius and Scipio had published their
own compositions under his name. Servilius is also mentioned by
Eagraphius as another of his patrons respecting whom similar stories
were circulated.
^ As he ran along in the street) — Ver. 31. He probably does not in-
tend to censure this practice entirely in Comedy, but to remind the
Audience that in some recent Play of Luscus Lavinius this had been
the sole stirring incident introduced. Plautus introduces Mercury run-
ning in the guise of Sosia, in the fourth Scene of the Amphitryon, 1.
087, and exclair^ing, "For surely, why, faith, should I, a God, be any
less allowed to threaten the ])ublic, if it doesn't get out of my way, than
a slave in the Comedies?" This practice can not, however, be intend-
ed to be here censured by Plautus, as he is guilty of it in three other
instances. In the Mercator, Acanthio runs to his master Charinus, to
tell him that his mistress Pasicompsa has been seen in the ship by his.
father Demipho ; in the Stichus, Pinacium, a slave, runs to inform his
mistress Philumena that her husband has arrived in port, on his return
from Asia ; ahd in the Mostellaria, Tranio, in haste, brings informa-
tion of the unexpected arrival of Theuropides. The "currens servus"
is also mentioned in the Prologue to the Andria, 1. 36. See the solil-
oquy of Stasimus, in the Trinummus of Plautus, 1. 1007.
* A quiet Play) — Ver. 36. "Statariam." See the spurious Prologue
to the Bacchides of Plautus, 1. 10, and the Note to the passage in Bohn's
Translation. The Comedy of the Romans was either " stataria," " mo-
toria," or "mixta." " Stataria" was a Comedy which Avas calm and
peaceable, such as the Cistellaria of Plautus; "motoria" was one full
of action and disturbance, like his Amphitryon; while the "Comcedia
mixta" was a mixture of both, such as the Eunuchus of Terence.
138 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; • [Act I,
silence; that the servant everlastingly running about, the
angry old man, the gluttonous parasite, the impudent sharp-
er, and the greedy procurer, may not have always to be per-
formed by me with the utmost expense of voice, and the
greatest exertion. For my sake come to the conclusion that
this request is fair, that so some portion of my labor may be
abridged. For nowadays, those who write new Plays do
not spare* an aged man. If there is any piece requiring ex-
ertion, they come running to me; but if it is a light one, it
is taken to another Company. In the present one the style
is pure. Do you make proof, what, in each character,^ my
ability can effect. If I have never greedily set a high price
upon my skill, and have come to the conclusion that this is
my greatest gain, as far as possible to be subservient to your
convenience, establish in me a precedent, that the young may
be anxious rather to please you than themselves.
ACT THE FIRST.
Scene I.
Enter Chremes, and Menedemus with a spade in his hand, who
falls to digging.
Chrem. Although this acquaintanceship between us is of
very recent date, from the time in fact of your*purchasing an
estate here in the neighborhood, yet either your good quali-
ties, or our being neighbors (which I take to be a sort of
friendship), induces me to inform you, frankly and familiarly,
that you appear to me to labor beyond your years, and be-
yond what your affairs require. For, in the name of Gods
and men, what would you have? What can b6 your aim?
You are, as I conjecture, sixty years of age, or more. No
man in these parts has a better or a more valuable estate, no
one more servants ; and yet you discharge their duties just as
diligently as if there were none at all. However early in the
morning I go out, and however late in the evening I return
^ Wliat in each character) — Ver. 47. "In utramqiic partem ingenium
quid possit meum." This line is entirely omitted in Vollbehr's edition ;
but it appears to be merely a typographical en-or.
I
Sc. I.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 139
home, I see you either digging, or plowing, or doing some-
thing, in fact, in the fields. You take respite not an instant,
and are quite regardless of yourself. I am very sure that this
is not done for your amusement. But really I am vexed how
little work is done here.^ If you were to employ the time
you spend in laboring yourself, in keeping jouv servants at
work, you would profit much more.
Men. Have you so much leisure, Chremes, from your own
affairs, that you can attend to those of others — those whicli
don't concern you?
Chrem. I am a man,^ cmd nothing that concerns a man do
I deem a matter of indifierence to me. Suppose that 1 wish
^ How little work is done here) — Ver. 72. Vollbehr thinks that his
meaning is, that he is quite vexed to see so little progress made, in spite
of his neighbor's continual vexation and turmoil, and that, as he says in
the next line, he is of opinion that if he were to cease working himself,
and were to overlook his servants, he would get far more done. It is
more generally thought to be an objection which Chremes suggests that
Menedemus may possibly make.
^ I am a man) — Ver. 77. "Homo sum: humani nihil a me alienum
puto." St. Augustine says, that at the delivery of this sentiment, the
Theatre resounded with applause ; and deservedly, indeed, for it is re-
plete with the very essence of benevolence and disregard of self. Cicero
quotes the passage in his work Dc Officiis, B. i., c. 9, The remarks of
Sir Richard Steele upon this passage, in the Spectator, No, 502, are
worthy to be transcribed at length. "The Play was the Self-Tor-
mentor. It is from tlie beginning to the end a perfect picture of
human life, but I did not observe in the whole one passage that could
raise a laugh. How well-disposed must that people be, who could be
entertained with satisfaction by so sober and polite mirth ! In the
first Scene of the Comedy, when one of the old men accuses the other
of impertinence for interposing in his affairs, he answers, 'I am a
man, and can not help feeling any sorrow that can arrive at man.' It
is said this sentence was received with an universal applause. There
can not be a greater argument of the general good understanding of a
people, than their sudden consent to give their approbation of a senti-
ment which has no emotion in it. If it were spoken with ever so great
skill in the actor, the manner of uttering that sentence could have
nothing in it which could strike any but people of the greatest human-
ity— nay, people elegant and skillful in observation upon it. It is possi-
ble that he may have laid his hand on his heart, and with a winning
insinuation in his countenance, expressed to his neighbor that he was a
man who made his case his own ; yet I will engage, a player in Covent
Garden might hit such an attitude a thousand times before he would
have been regarded."
140 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; [Act I.
either to advise you in this matter, or to be informed myself:
if lohat you do is right, that I may do the same ; if it is not,
then that I may dissuade you.
Men. It's requisite for me to do so; do you as it is neces-
sary for you to do.
CiiKEM. Is it requisite for any person to torment himself?
Men. It is for me.
Chrem. If you have any affliction, I could wish it other-
wise. But prithee, what sorrow is this of yours f How have
you deserved so ill of yourself?
Men. Alas! alas! [lie begins to icecp.)
Chrem. Do not weep, but make me acquainted with it,
whatever it is. Do not be reserved ; fear nothing ; trust me,
I tell you. Either by consolation, or by counsel, or by any
means, I will aid you.
IMen. Do you Avish to know this matter?
Chrem. Yes, and for the reason I mentioned to you.
Men. I will tell you.
Chrem. But still, in the mean time, lay down that rake;
don't fatigue yourself.
Men. By no means.
■^ Chrem. What can be your object % {Tries to take the rake
from him.)
Men. Do leave me alone, that I may give myself no res-
pite from my labor.
Chrem. I will not* allow it, I tell you. {Taking the rake
from him.)
Men. Ah ! that's not fair.
Chrem. {poising the rake.) Whew! such a heavy one as
this, pray !
Men. Such are my deserts.
Chrem. Now speak. (Laying down the rake.)
Men. I have an only son, — a young man, — alas ! why did
I say — " I have?" — rather I should say, '•' I had" one, Chremes:
— whether I have him now, or not, is uncertain.
Chrem. Why so?
Men. You shall know : — There is a poor old woman here,
a stranger from Corinth : — her daughter, a young woman,
he fell in love with, insomuch that he almost regarded her
as his wife; all this took 'place unknown to me. When I
I
Sc. I.] THE SELF-TOKMENTOR. 141
discovered the matter, I began to reprove him, not with
gentleness, nor in the way suited to the love-sick mind of a
youth, but with violence, and after the usual method of fa-
thers. I was daily reproaching him, — "Look you, do you
expect to be allowed any longer to act thus, myself, your fa-
ther, being alive ; to be keeping a mistress pretty much as
though your wife? You are mistaken, Clinia, and you don't
know me, if you fancy that. I am willing that you should
be called my soil, just as long as you do what becomes you ;
but if you do not do so, I shall find out how it becomes me to
act toward you. This arises from nothing, in fact, but too
much idleness. At your time of life, I did not devote my
time to dalliance, but, in consequence of my poverty, departed
hence for Asia, and there acquired in arms both riches and
military glory." At length the matter came to this, — the
youth, from hearing the same things so often, and with such
severity, was overcome. He supposed that I, through age and
affection, had more judgment and foresight for him than him-
self. He went off to Asia, Chreraes, to serve under the king.
CiiREM. What is it you say?
Men. He departed without my knowledge — and has been
gone these three months.
CiiREM. Both are to be blamed — although I still iJmk this
step shows an ingenuous and enterprising disposition.
^Ien. When I learned this from those who were in the
secret, I returned home sad, and with feelings almost over-
whelmed and distracted through grief. I sit down ; my
servants run to me; they take off my shoes :^ then some
make all haste to spread the couches,^ and to prepare a re-
past ; each according to his ability did zealously tvhat he
could, in order to alleviate my sorrow. When I observed
this, I began to reflect thus : — " What ! are so many persons
anxious for my sake alone, to pleasure myself only? Are so
^ Take off my shoes) — Ver. 124. As to the *'socci," or low shoes of
the ancients, see the Notes to the Trinummus of Plautus, 1. 720, in
Bohn's Translation. It was the especial duty of certain slaves to take
off the shoes of their masters.
2 7b spread the couches) — Ver. 125. The "lecti" or ''couches" upon
which the ancients reclined at meals, have been enlarged upon in the
Notes to Plautus, where full reference is also made to the " coena,"
or "dinner," and other meals of the Romans.
142 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; [Act I.
many female servants to provide me with dress ?i Shall I
alone keep up such an expensive establishment, while my
only son, who ought equally, or even more so, to enjoy these
things — inasmuch as his age is better suited for the enjoy-
ment of them — him, poor youth, have I driven away from
home by my severity ! Were I to do this, really I should
deem myself deserving of any calamity. But so long as he
leads this life of penury, banished from his country through
my severity, I will revenge his wrongs upon myself, toiling,
making money, saving, and laying up for him." At once I
set about it ; I left nothing in the house, neither movables^
nor clothing; every thing I scraped together. Slaves, male
and female, except those who could easily pay for their keep
by working in the country, all o*f them I set up to auction
and sold. I at once put up a bill to sell my house. ^ I col-
lected somewhere about fifteen talents, and purchased this
farm ; here I fatigue myself I have come to this conclu-
sion, Chremes, that I do my son a less injury, while I am un-
happy ; and that it is not right for me to enjoy any pleasure
here, until such time as he returns home safe to share it with
me.
CiiKEM. I believe you to be of an affectionate disposition
^ Provide me loltk dress) — Ver. 130. It was the custom for the mis-
tress and female servants in each family to make the clothes of the
master. Thus in the Fasti of Ovid, B. ii., 1. 746, Lucretia is found
amidst her female servants, making a cloak, or " lacerna," for her hus-
band. Suetonius says that Augustus refused to wear any garments not
woven by his female relations. Cooke seems to think that "vestiant"
alludes to the very act of putting the clothes upon a person. He says,
"The better sort of people had eating-dresses, which are here alluded
to. These dresses were light garments, to put on as soon as they liad
bathed. They commonly bathed before eating, and the chief meal was
in the evening." This, however, does not seem to be the meaning of
the passage, although Colman has adopted it. We may here remark
that the censure here described is not unlike that mentioned in the Pro-
logue to the Mercator of Plautus, as administered by Demienetus to his
son Charinus.
2 Neither movables) — Ver. 141. "Vas" is he^re used as a general
name for articles of furniture. This line appeaii-s to be copied almost
literally from one of Menander, v/hich still exists.
^ To sell my house) — Ver. 145. On the mode of advertising houses
to let or be sold among the Romans, see the Trinummus of Plautus, 1.
168, and the Note to the passage iu Bohn's Translation.
I
Sc. I.] THE SELF-TORMENTOK. 143
toward your children,^ and him to be an obedient son, if one
were to manage him rightly or prudently. But neither did
you understand him sufficiently well, nor he you — a thing that
happens Avhere persons don't live on terms of frankness to-
gether. You never showed him how highly you valued him,
nor did he ever dare put that confidence in you which is due
to a father. Plad this been done, these troubles would never
have befallen you.
Men. Such is the fact, I confess ; the greatest fault is on
my side.
CiiREM. But still, Menedemus, I hope for the best, and I
trust that he'll be here safe before long.
IVIen. Oh that the Gods would grant it !
Chrem. They will do so. Now, if it is convenient to you —
the festival of Bacchus^ is being kept here to-day — I wish you
to give me your company.
1 Toicard your children) — Ver. 151. The plural " liberos" is here used
to signify the one son which Menedemus has. So in the Heeyra, 1, 217,
the same word is used to signify but one daughter. This was a common
mode of expression in the times of the earlier Latin authors.
^ Festival of Bacchus, ^^ Dionysia'^) — Ver. 162. It is generally sup-
posed that there were four Festivals called the Dionysia, during the
year, at Athens. The first was the Rural, or Lesser Dionysia, Kar'
aypovg, a vintage festival, which was celebrated in the "Demi" or bor-
oughs of Attica, in honor of Bacchus, in the month Poseidon. This
AY as the most ancient of the Festivals, and was held with the greatest
merriment and freedom ; the slaves then enjoyed the same amount of
liberty as they did at the Saturnalia at Rome. The second Festival,
vvhich was called the Lenaa, from ?.7]vd(;, a wine-press, was celebrated
in the month Gamelion, with Scenic contests in Tragedy and Comedy.
The third Dionysian Festival was the Anthesteria, or "Spring feast,"
being celebrated during three days in the month Anthestcrion. The
first day was called iridoiyia, or "the Opening of the casks," as on that
day the casks were opened to taste the Avine of the preceding year. The
second day was called xo£C, from xoi'C^ "^ cup," and was probably de-
voted to drinking. The third day was called X'^^^P'^^^ from ;^;yrpof, " a
pot," as on it persons offered pots with flower-seeds or cooked vegeta-
bles to Dionysus or Bacchus. The fourth Attic festival of Dionysius
was celebrated in the month Elaphebolion, and was called the Dionysia
tv ucsTet, AariKu, or MefaAu, the "City" or "great" festival. It was
celebrated with great magnificence, processions and dramatic represent-
ations forming part of the ceremonial. From Greece, by way of Sicily,
the Bacchanalia, or festivals of Bacchus, Avere introduced into Rome,
Avhere they became the scenes of and pretext for every kind of Adce and
144 HEAUTONTIMORUxMENOS ; [Act I.
Men. I can not.
Chrem. Why not 2 Do, pray, spare yourself a little while.
Your absent son would wish you do so.
Men. It is not right that I, who have driven him hence to
endure hardships, should now shun them myself.
Chrem. Is such your determination ?
Men. It is.
Chrem. Then kindly fare you well.
Men. And you the same. (Goes into his house.)
Scene II.
Chkemes, alone.
Chrem. (to himself.) He has forced tears from me, and I do
pity him. But as the day is far gone, I must remind Phania,
this neighbor of mine, to come to dinner. I'll go see whether
he is at home. (Goes to Phania' s c/oor, inakes the inquinj, and
returns.) There was no occasion for me to remind him : they
tell me he has been some time already at my house ; it's I
myself am making my guests wait. I'll go in-doors imme-
diately. But what means the noise at the door of my house ?
I wonder who's coming out ! I'll step aside here. (He stands
aside.)
Scene HI.
Enter Clitipho, from the house of Chremes.
Clit. (at the Uoor, to Clinia ivithin.) There is nothing, Clinia,
for you to fear as yet : they have not been long by any means :
and I am sure that she will be with you presently along with
the messenger. Do at once dismiss these causeless apprehen-
sions which are tormenting you.
debaucheiy, until at length they were put down in the year b.c. 187,
with a strong hand, by the Consuls Spurius Posthumius Albinus and
Q. Marcius Philippus ; from which period the words ''bacchor" and
" bacchator" became synonymous with the practice of every kind of vice
and turpitude that could outrage common decency. See a very full ac-
count of the Dionysia and the Bacchanalia in Dr. Smith's Dictionary of
Greek and Roman Antiquities.
Sc. in.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 145
Chrem. (apart.) Who is my son talking to ? {Makes his ap-
pearance.)
Clit. {to himself.) Here comes my father, whom I wished to
see : I'll accost him. Father, you have met me opportunely.
Chrem. What is the matter?
Clit. Do you know this neighbor of ours, Mcnedemus?
Chrem. Very well.
Clit. Do you know that he has a son ?
Chrem. I have heard that he has ; in Asia.
Clit. He is not in Asia, father ; he is at our house.
Chrem. What is it you say ?
Clit. Upon his arrival, after he had just landed from the
ship, I immediately brought him to dine with us ; for from
our very childhood upward I have always been on intimate
terms with him.
Chrem. You announce to me a great pleasure. How much
I wish that Menedemus had accepted my- invitation to make
one of us : that at my house I might have been the first to
surprise him, when not expecting it, with this delight ! — and
even yet there's time enough
Clit. Take care what you do ; there is no necessity, father,
for doing so.
Chrem. For what reason ?
Clit. Why, because he is as yet undetermined what to do
with himself. He is but just arrived. He fears everything;
his father's displeasure, and how his mistress may be disposed
toward him. He loves her to distraction : on her account,
this trouble and going abroad took place.
Chrem. I know it.
Clit. He has just sent a servant into the city to her, and I
ordered our Syrus to go with him.
Chrem. What does Clinia say?
Clit. What does he say ? That he is wretched.
Chrem. Wretched? Whom could we less suppose so?
What is there wanting for him to enjoy every thing that
among men, in fact, are esteemed as blessings? Parents, a
country in prosperity, friends, family, relations, riches? And
yet, all these are just according to the disposition of him who
possesses them. To him who knows how to use them, they
are blessings ; to him who does not use them rightly, they are
evils.
G
146 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; [Act II.
Clit. Aye, but he always was a morose old man ; and now
I dread nothing more, father, than that in his displeasure
he'll be doing something to him more than is justifiable.
CuREM. What, he? (Aside.) But I'll restrain myself; for
that the other one should be in fear of his father is of service
to him.^
Clit. AVhat is it you are saying to yourself?
CnREM. I'll tell you. Ilowever the case stood, Clinia ought
still to have remained at home. Perhaps his father was a little
stricter than he liked: he should have put up with it. For
whom ought he to bear with, if he would not bear with his
own father ? Was it reasonable that he should live after his
son's humor, or his son after his? And as to charging him
with harshness, it is not the fact. For the severities of fathers
are generally of one character, those I mean who are in some
degree reasonable men.^ They do not wish their sons to be al-
ways wenching ; they do not wish them to be always carous-
ing ; they give a limited allowance ; and yet all this tends to
virtuous conduct. But v/hen the mind, Clitipho, has once en-
slaved itself by vicious appetites, it must of necessity follow
similar pursuits. This is a wise maxim, " to take warning
from others of what may be to your OAvn advantage."
Clit. I believe so.
Chrem. I'll now go hence in-doors, to see what we have
for dinner. Do you, seeing what is the time of day, mind
and take care not to hQ any where out of the way. {Goes into
his house, and exit Clitipho.)
ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.
Enter Clitipho.
Clit. {to himself.) What partial judges are all fathers in
regard to all of iis young men, in thinking it reasonable for
^ Is of service to Mm) — Ver. 199. He means that it is to the ad-
vantage of Clitipho that Clinia should be seen to stand in awe of his
father.
8 Reasonable men) — Ver. 205. "Homo," "a man," is here put for
men in general who are fathers.
Sc. 11.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR 147
us to become old men all at once from boys, and not to
participate in those things Avhich youth is naturally inclined
to. They regulate us by their own desires, — such as they
now are, — not as they once were. If ever I have a son,
he certainly shall find in me an indulgent father. For the
means both of knowing and of pardoning^ his faults shall be
found hy me ; not like mine, who by means of another person,
discloses to me his own sentiments. I'm plagued to death,
— when he drinks a little more than usual, what pranks of
his own he does relate to me ! Now he says, " Take warn-
ing from others of what may be to your advantage." How
shrewd ! He certainly does not know how deaf I am at the
moment when he's telling his stories. Just now, the w^ords
of my mistress make more impression upon me. " Give me
this, and bring me that,'^ she cries; I have nothing to say
to her in answer, and no one is there more wretched than
myself. But this Clinia, although he, as well, has cares
enough of his own, still has a mistress of virtuous and modest
breeding, and a stranger to the arts of a courtesan. Mine is
a craving, saucy, haughty, extravagant creature, full of lofty
airs. Then all that I have to give her is — fair words^ — for I
make it a point not to tell her that I have nothing. This mis-
fortune I met with not long since, nor does my father as yet
know amj thing of the matter. {Exit.
Scene II.
Enter Clinia from the house of Chremes.
Clin, (to himself) If my love-affairs had been prosperous
for me, I am sure she would have been here by this; but
I'm afraid that the damsel has been led astray here in my
absence. Many things combine to strengthen this opinion in
my mind ; opportunity, the place, her age, a worthless moth-
^ Of knowing and of pardoning) — Ver. 218. There is a jingle in-
tended here in the resemblance of the words "cognoscendi," "know-
ing," and "ignoscendi," "pardoning."
^ Is— fair words) — Ver. 228. "Recte est." It is supposed that he
pauses before uttering these words, which mean "very well," or "very
good," implying the giving an assent without making a promise ; he
tells the reason, in saying that he has scruples or prejudices against
confessing that he has got nothing to give her.
148 HEAUTONTIMOKUMENOS; [Act II.
er, under whose control she is, with whom nothing but gain
is precious.
Enter Clitipiio.
Clit. Clinia!
Clin. Alas! wretched me !
Clit. Do, pray, take care that no one coming out of your
father's house sees you here by accident.
Clin. I will do so; but really my mind presages I know
not what misfortune.
Clit. Do you persist in making up your mind upon that,
before you know what is the fact?
Clin. Had no misfortune happened, she would have been
here by this.
Clit. She'll be here presently.
Clin. When will that presently be?
Clit. You don't consider that it is a great way from here.^
Besides, you know the ways of women, while they are bestir-
ring themselves, and while they are making preparations a
wJiole year passes by.
Clin. O Clitipho, I'm afraid
Clit. Take courage. Look, here comes Dromo, together
with Syrus : they are close at hand. {They stand aside.)
Scene III.
Enter Syrus and Dromo, conversing at a distance.
Syr. Do you say so %
Dro. 'Tis as / told you, — but in the mean time, while we've
been carrying on our discourse, these women have been left
behind.
Clit. {apart.) Don't you hear, Clinia'? Your mistress is
close at hand.
Clin, {apart.) Why yes, I do hear now at last, and I see
and revive, Clitipho.
Dro. No wonder ; they are so encumbered ; they are bring-
ing a troop of female attendants^ with them.
' Great way from here) — Ver. 230. That is, from the place where
they are, in the country, to Athens,
2 Troop of female attendants) — Yer. 245. The train and expenses of
a courtesan of hijrh station are admirably depicted in the speech of
Lysiteles, in the Trinummus of Plautus, 1. 252.
Sc. III.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 149
Clin, {apart) I'm undone! Whence come these female
attendants ?
Clit. {apart.) Do you ask me?
Syk. We ought not to have left them ; what a quantity of
things they are bringing !
Clin, {apart) Ah me !
Syr. Jewels of gold, and clothes ; it's growing late too, and
they don't know the way. It was very foolish of us to leave
them. Just go back, Dromo, and meet them. Make haste —
why do you delay ? * {Exit Dromo.
Clin, {apart.) Woe unto wretched mc ! — from what high
hopes am I fallen !
Clit. {apart.) What's the matter? W^by, what is it that
troubles you ?
Clin, {apart) Do you ask what it is? Why, don't you
see ? Attendants, jewels of gold, and clothes^ her too, whom
I left here with only one little servant girl. Whence do you
suppose that they come ?
Clit. {apart.) Oh ! now at last I understand you.
Syr. {to himself.) Good Gods ! what a multitude tliere
is! Our house will hardly hold them, I'm sure. How much
they will eat ! how mucli they will drink ! what will there
be more wretched than our old gentleman ? {Catching sight
of Cljnia and Clitipho.) But look, I espy the persons I was
wanting.
Clin, {apart.) Oh Jupiter! Why, where is fidelity ^o??c ?
While I, distractedly wandering, have abandoned my country
for your sake, you, in the mean time, Antiphila, have been
enriching yourself, and have forsaken me in these troubles,
you for whose sake I am in extreme disgrace, and have been
disobedient to my father; on whose account I am now
ashamed and grieved, that he who used to lecture me about
the manners of these women, advised me in vain, and was not
able to wean me aAvay from her : — which, however, I shall
now do; ivhereas when it might have been advantageous to me
to do so, I was unwilling. There is no being more wretched
than I.
Syr. {to himself) He certainly has been misled by our words
which we have been speaking here. {Aloud.) Clinia, you im-
agine your mistress quite different from what she really is.
For both her mode of life is the same, and her disposition
150 HEAUTONTIMOEUMENOS; [Act II.
toward you is the same as it always was ; so far as we could
form a judgment from the circumstances themselves.
Clin. How so, prithee? For nothing in the world could
I rather wish for just now, than that I have suspected this
without reason.
Syr. This, in the first place, then (that you may not be
ignorant of any thing that concerns her) ; the old woman, who
was formerly said to be her mother, was not so. — She is dead :
this I overheard by accident from her, as we came along,
while she was telling the other one.
Clit. Pray, who is the other one %
Syr. Stay; what I have begun I wish first to relate, Cliti-
pho ; I shall come to that afterward.
Clit. Make haste, then.
Syr. First of all, then, when Ave came to the house, Dromo
knocked at the door ; a certain old woman came out ; when
she opened the door, he directly rushed in ; I followed ;
the old woman bolted the door, and returned to her wool.
On this occasion might be known, Clinia, or else on none,
in what pursuits she passed her life during your absence;
when we thus came upon a female unexpectedly. For this
circumstance then gave us an opportunity of judging of the
course of her daily life ; a thing which especially discovers
what is the disposition of each individual. We foupd her
industriously plying at the w^eb ; plainly clad in a mourning
dress,^ on account of this old woman, I suppose, who was
lately dead; without golden ornaments, dressed, besides, just
like those who only dress for themselves, and patched up with
no worthless woman's trumpery.^ Pier hair was loose, long.
' In a mourning dress) — Ver. 286. Among the Greeks, in general,
mourning for the dead seems to have lasted till the thirtieth day after
the funeral, and during that period black dresses were worn. The Ro-
mans also wore mourning for the dead, which seems, in the time of the
Republic, to have been black or dark blue for either sex. Under the
Empire the men continued to wear black, but the women wore white.
No jewels or ornaments were worn upon these occasions.
? With no ivorthless woman''s trumpery) — Ver. 289. By '* nulla mala
re muliebri" he clearly means that they did not find her painted up
with the cosmetics which some women were in the habit of using.
Such preparations for the face as white-lead, wax, antimony, or ver-
milion, well deserve the name of " mala res." A host of these cosmetics
will be found described in Ovid's Fragment " On the Care of the Com-
Sc. III.] THE SELF-TORMENTOK. 151
and thrown back negligently about her temples. {To Clinia.)
Do you hold your peace. ^
Clin. My dear Syrus, do not without cause throw me into
ecstasies, I beseech you.
Syr. The old woman was spinning the woof:^ there was
one little servant girl besides; — she was weaving^ together
with them, covered with patched clothes, slovenly, and dirty
with filthiness.
Clit. If this is true, Clinia, as I believe it is, who is there
more fortunate than you ? Do you mark this girl whom he
speaks of, as dirty and drabbish ? This, too, is a strong indi-
cation that the mistress is out of harm's way, when her con-
fidant is in such ill plight ; for it is a rule with those who
wish to gain access to the mistress, first to bribe the maid.
Clin, {to Syrus.) Go on, I beseech you; and beware of
endeavoring to purchase favor by telling an untruth. What
did she say, when you mentioned me ?
Syr. When we told her that you had returned, and had
requested her to come to you, the damsel instantly put away
the web, and covered her face all over with tears; so that
plexion," and much information upon this subject is given in various
passages in the Art of Love. In the llemedy of Love, 1. 351, Ovid
speaks of these practices in the following terms : " At the moment, too,
when she shall be smearing her face with the cosmetics laid up on it,
you may come into the presence of your mistress, and don't let shame
prevent you. You will find there boxes, and a thousand colors of ob-
jects ; and you will sec ' cRsypum,' the ointment of the fleece, trickling
down and flowing upon her heated bosom. These drugs, Phineus, smell
like thy tables ; not once alone has sickness been caused by this to my
stomach. " Lucretius also, in his Fourth Book, 1. 1 168, speaks of a fe-
male who " covers herself with noxious odors, and whom her female at-
tendants fly from to a distance, and chuckle by stealth." See also the
Mostellaria of Plautus, Act I., Scene 3, 1. 135, where Philematium is
introduced making her toilet on the stage.
^ Do hold your peace) — Ver. 291. "Pax," literally "peace!" in the
sense of " Hush !" " Be quiet !" See the Notes to the Trinummus of
Plautus, 11. 889-891, in Bohn's Translation.
^ The woof) — Ver. 293. See an interesting passage on the ancient
weaving, in the Metamorphoses of Ovid, B. vi., 1. 54, et seq. See also
the Epistle of Penelope to Ulysses, in the Heroides of Ovid, 1. 10, and
the Note in Bohn's English Translation.
^ She loas lueaving) — Ver. 294:. This line and part of the next are
supposed to have been translated almost literally from some lines, the
composition of Menander, which are still extant.
152 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; [Act II.
you might easily perceive that it really was caused by her af-
fection for you.
Clin. So may the Deities bless me, I know not where I am
for joy! I was so alarmed before.
Clit. But I was sure that there was no reason, Clinia.
Come now, Syrus, tell me, in my turn, who this other lady is.
Syr. Your Bacchis, ivhom we are bringing.^
Clit. Ha! What! Bacchis? How now, you rascal!
whither are you bringing her %
Syk. Whither am I bringing her? To our house, to be
sure.
Clit. What! to my father's ?
Sye. To the very same.
Clit. Oh, the audacious impudence of the fellow !
Syk. Plark'ye, no great and memorable action is done with-
out some risk.
Clit. Look now ; are you seeking to gain credit for your-
self, at the hazard of my character, you rascal, in a point,
where, if you only make the slightest slip, I am ruined?
What would you be doing with her?
Sye. But still
Clit. Why -'still?"
Syk. If you'll give me leave, I'll tell you.
Clin. Do give him leave.
Clit. I give him leave then.
Sye. This affair is now just as though when-
Clit. Plague on it, what roundabout story is he beginning
to tell me ?
Clin. Syrus, he says what's right — do omit digressions;
come to the point.
Syr. Keally I can not hold my tongue. Clitipho, you are
every way unjust, and can not possibly be endured.
Clin. Upon my faith, he ought to have a hearing. {To
Clitipho.) Do be silent.
Syk. You wish to indulge in your amours; you wish to
possess your mistress; you wish that to be procured where-
^ Your BaccMs, whom we are bringing) — Ver. 310, Colman has the
following remark: "Here we enter upon the other part of the table,
which the Poet has most artfully complicated with the main subject by-
making Syrus bring Clitipho's mistress along with Antiphila. This
part of the story, we know, was not in Menander."
Sc. III.] THE SELF-TORMENTOK. 153
withal to make her presents ; in getting tJtis, you do not wish
the risk to be your own. You are not wise to no purpose,
— if indeed it is being wise to wish for that which can not
happen. Either the one must be had with the other, or the
one must be let alone with the other. Now, of these two al-
ternatives, consider which one you would prefer; although
this project which I have formed, I know to be both a wise
and a safe one. For there is an opportunity for your mistress
to be with you at your father's house, without fear of a discov-
ery ; besides, by these self-same means, I shall find the mon-
ey which you have promised her — to effect which, you have
already made my ears deaf with entreating me. What would
you have more?
Clit. If, indeed, this could be brought about
Syk. If, indeed"? You shall know it by experience.
Clit. Well, well, disclose this project of yours. What is
it?
Syr. We will pretend that your mistress is his {pointing to
Clinia).
Clit. Very fine ! Tell me, what is he to do with his own ?
Is she, too, to be called his, as if one was not a sufficient dis-
credit "?
Syk. No — she shall be taken to your mother.
Clit. Why there ?
Syr. It would be tedious, Clitipho, if I were to tell you
why I do so ; I have a good reason.
Cut. Stuff! I see no grounds sufficiently solid wliy it
should be for my advantage to incur this risk.^ {Turning as
if going.)
Syr. Stay ; if there is this risk, I have another project,
which you must both confess to be free from danger.
Clit. Find out something of that description, I beseech
you.
Syr. By all means ; I'll go meet her, and tell her to return
home.
Clit. Ha ! what was it you said ?
Syr. I'll rid you at once of all fears, so that you may sleep
at your ease upon either ear.'"^
' Inair this i~isk) — Ver. 337. As to his own mistress.
^ Upon either ear) — Ver. 342. " In aurem utramvis," a proverbial
expression, imph'incr an easy and secure repose. It is also used by
G 2
154 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; [Act II.
Clit. What am I to do now ?
Clin. What are you to do ? The goods that
Clit. Only tell me the truth, Syrus.
Syr. Dispatch quickly; you'll be wishing just now too
late and in vain. {Going.')
Clin. The Gods provide, enjoy while ?/e;{ you may; for you
know not
Clit. {calling.) Syrus, I say!
Syr. {moving on.) Go on; I shall still do that wldcli 1
said. ^
Clin. Whether you may have another opportunity hereaft-
er or ever again.
Clit. I' faith, that's true. {Calling.) Syrus, Syrus, I say,
harkye, harkye, Syrus !
Syr. {aside.) He warms a little. {To Clitipho.) What is
it you want %
Clit. Come back, come back.
Syr. {coming bach to him.) Here I am ; tell me what you
would have. You'll be presently saying that this, too, doesn't
please you.
Clit. Nay, Syrus, I commit myself, and my love, and mjj
reputation entirely to you : you are the seducer ; take care you
don't deserve any blame.
Syr. It is ridiculous for you to give me that caution,
Clitipho, as if my interest was less at stake in this aifair than
yours. Here, if any ill luck should perchance befall us,
words will be in readiness for you, hut for this individual
blows {pointing to himself). For that reason, this matter is
by no means to be neglected on my part : but do prevail upon
him {pointing to Clinia) to pretend that she is his own mis-
tress.
Clin. You may rest assured I'll do so. The matter has
now come to that pass, that it is a case of necessity.
Clit. 'Tis with good reason that I love you, Clinia.
Plautus, and is found in a fragment of the HIoklov, or Necklace, a
Comedy of Menander.
^ Still do that which I said) — Ver. 346. "Perge porro, tamen istuc
ago." Stallbaum observes that the meaning is: "Although I'm going
off, I'm still attending to what you're saying." According to Schmieder
and others, it means: "Call on just as you please, I shall pei'sist in
sendino; Bacchis awav."
8c. m.] THE SELF-TORMENTOK. 155
Clin. But she mustn't be tripping at all.
Syr. She is thoroughly tutored in her part.
Clit. But this I wonder at, how you could so easily pre-
vail upon her, who is wont to treat such great people^ with
scorn.
Syr. I came to her at the proper moment, which in all
things is of the first importance : for there I found a certain
wretched captain soliciting her favors : she artfully managed
the man, so as to inflame his eager passions by denial; and
this, too, that it might be especially pleasing to yourself.
But hark you, take care, will you, not to be imprudently
impetuous. You know your father, how quick-sighted he is
in these matters; and I know you, how unable you are to
command yourself Keep clear of words of double mean-
ing,2 your sidelong looks, sighing, hemming, coughing, tit-
tering.
Clit. You shall have to commend me.
Syr. Take care of that, please.
Clit. You yourself shall be surprised at me.
Syr. But how quickly the ladies have come up with us !
Clit. Where are they? (Syrus stands before him.) Why
do you hold me back ?
Syr. For the present she is nothing to you.
Clit. I know it, before my father ; but now in the mean
time
Syr. Not a bit the more.
Clit. Do let me.
Syr. I will not let you, I tell you.
Clit. But only for a moment, pray.
^ Such great people) — Vcr. 3G3. " Quos," literally, "What per-
sons!"
2 Words of double meaning) — Ver. 372. " Inversa verba, eversas cer-
vices tuas." " Inversa verba" clearly means, words with a double mean-
ing, or substituted for others by previous arrangement, like correspond-
ence by cipher. Lucretius uses the words in this sense, B. i., 1. 643.
A full account of the secret signs and con-espondence in use among
the ancients will be found in the 16th and 17th Epistles of the Heroides
of Ovid, in his Amours, B. i.. El. 4, and in various passages of the Art
of Love. See also the Asinaria of Plautus, 1. 780. It is not known for
certain what " eversa cervix" here means ; it may mean the turning of
the neck in some particular manner by way of a hint or to give a side-
long look, or it may allude to the act of snatching a kiss on the sly,
which might lead to a discovery.
156 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; [Act II.
Syk. I forbid it.
Clit. Onlj to salute her.
Syr. If you are wise, get you gone.
Clit. I'm off. But what's he to do? {Pointing at Clinia.)
Syr. He will stay here.
Clit. O happy man !
Syr. Take yourself oiF. {Exit Clitipho.
Scene IV.
Enter Bacchis and Antiphila at a distance.
Bacchis. Upon my word, my dear Antiphila, I commend
you, and think you fortunate in having made it your study
that your manners should be conformable to those good looks
of yours: and so may the Gods bless mo, I do not at all won-
der if every man is in love with you. For your discourse has
been a proof to me what kind of disposition you possess. And
when now 1 reflect in my mind upon your way of life, and that
of all of you, in fact, who keep the public at a distance from
yourselves, it is not surprising both that you are of that di&-
position, and that we are not; for it is your interest to be
virtuous ; those, with whom we are acquainted, will not allow
us to be so. For our lovers, allured merely by our beauty,
court us for that; when that has faded, they transfer their
affections elsewhere; and unless we have made provision in
the mean time for the future, we live in destitution. Noiv
with you, when you have once resolved to pass your life with
one man whose manners are especially kindred to your own,
those persons^ become attached to you. By this kindly feel-
ing, you are truly devoted to each other; and no calamity
can ever possibly interrupt your love.
Anti. I know nothing about other women: I'm sure that
I have, indeed, always used every endeavor to derive my own
happiness from his happiness.
Clin, {apart, overhearing Antiphila.) Ah! 'tis for that
reason, my Antiphila, that you alone have now caused me to
return to my native country; for while I was absent from
^ A man whose manners — those persons) — Ver. 393- " Cujus — hi;" a
change of number by the use of the figure Enallage.
Sc. IV.] THE SELF-TOKMENTOK. 157
you, all other hardships which I encountered were light to
me, save the being deprived of you.
Syr. (upart.) I believe it.
Clin, (apart.) SyruS, I can scarce endure it l^ Wretch that
I am, that I should not be allowed to possess one of such a
disposition at my own discretion !
Syr. Nay, so far as I understand your father, he will for a
long time yet be giving yoii a hard task.
Baccii. Why, who is that young man that's looking at us?
Anti. (seeing Clinia.) Ah ! do support me, I entreat you !
Baccii. Prithee, what is the matter with you ?
Anti. I shall die, alas ! I shall die !
Baccii. Why are you thus surprised, Antiphila ?
Anti. Is it Clinia that I see, or not?
Baccii. Whom do you see?
Clin, (running to embrace Antiphila.) Blessings on you,
ray life !
Anti. Oh my long-wished for Clinia, blessings on you !
Clin. How fare you, my love ?
Anti. I'm overjoyed that you have returned safe.
Clin. And do I embrace you, Antiphila, so passionately
longed for by my soul ?
Syr. Go in-doors ; for the old gentleman has been waiting
for us some time. (They go into the house of Ciiremes.)
- / can scarce endure it) — Ver. 400. Colman'has the following re-
mark on this passacre : "Madame Dacicr, contraiy to the authority of
all editions and MSS., adopts a conceit of her father's in this place, and
places this speech to Clitipho, whom she supposes to haA'c retired to a
hiding-place, where he might overhear the conversation, and from
whence he peeps out to make this speech to Syrus. This she calls an
agreeable jew de theatre, and doubts not but all lovers of Terence will
be obliged to her father for so ingenious a remark; but it is to be
feared that critical sagacity Avill not be so lavish of acknowledgments
as filial piety. There does not appear the least foundation for this re-
mark in the Scene, nor has the Poet given us the least room to doubt
of Clitipho being actually departed. To me, instead of an agreeable
jeu de theatre, it appears a most absurd and ridiculous device ; particu-
larly vicious in this place, as it most injudiciously tends to interrupt the
course of Clinia's more interesting passion, so admirably delineated in
this little Scene."
158 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; [Act III
ACT TPIE THIRD.
Scp:ne I.
Enter Chremes from his house.
Chrem. {to himself.) It is now daybreak.^ Why do I delay
to knock at my neighbor's door, tliat he may learn from me
the first that his son has returned? Although I am aware
that the youth would not prefer this. But when I see him
tormenting himself so miserably about his absence, can I con-
ceal a joy so unhoped for, especially Avhen there can be no
danger to him from the discovery? I will not do so; but as
far as I can I will assist the old man. As I see my son aid-
ing his friend and year's-mate, and acting as his confidant in
his concerns, it is but right that we old men as well should
assist each other.
Enter Menedemus from his house.
Men. (to himself) Assuredly I was either born with a dis-
position peculiarly suited for misery, or else that saying which
I hear commonly repeated, that 'Uime assuages human sor-
row," is false. For really my sorrow about my son increases
daily ; and the longer he is away from me, the more anxious-
ly do I wish for him, and the more I miss him.
Chrem. {apart.) But I see him coming out of his house ; Til
go speak to him. (Aloud.) Menedemus, good-morrow ; I bring
you news, which you would especially desire to be imparted.
Men. Pray, have you heard any thing about my son,
Chremes ?
Chrem. He's alive, and well.
Men. Why, where is he, pray ?
^ It is 710X0 daybreah) — ^Ver. 410. Thouf]!;h this is tho only Play which
includes more than one day in the action, it is not the only one inwhicli
the day is represented as breaking. The Amphitryon and the Curculio
of Plautus commence before daybreak, and the action is carried on into
the middle of the day. Madame Dacier absolutely considers it as a
fact beyond all doubt, that the Roman Audience went home after the
first two Acts of the Play, and returned for the representation of the
third the next morning at daybreak. Scaliger was of the same opinion ;
but it is not generally entertained by Commentators.
1
So. I.] THE SELF-TORMENTOK. 159
Chrem. Here, at my house, at home.
Men. My son ?
Chrem. Such is the fact.
Men. Come Jiome?
Chrem. Certainly.
Men. My son, Clinia, come home .^
CHREJti. I say so.
Men. Let us go. Lead me to him, I beg of you.
Chrem. He docs not wish you yet to know of his return,
and he shuns your presence ; he's afraid that, on account of
that fault, your former severity may even be increased.
Men. Did you not tell him how I was affected 1 ^
Chrem. No
Men. For what reason, Chrcmes ?
Chrem. Because there you would judge extremely ill both
for yourself and for him, if you were to show yourself of a
spirit so weak and irresolute.
Men. I can not help it: enough already, enough, have I
proved a rigorous father.
Chrem. Ah Menedemus ! you are too precipitate in either
extreme, either with profuseness or with parsimony too great.
Into the same error will you fall from the one side as from
the other. In the first place, formerly, rather than allow
your son to visit a young woman, Avho was then content with
a very little, and to whom any thing was acceptable, you
frightened him away from here. After that, she began, quite
against her inclination, to seek a subsistence upon the town.
Now, when she can not be supported without a great expense,
you are ready to give any thing. For, that you may know
how perfectly she is trained to extravagance, in the first place,
she has already brought with her more than ten female at-
tendants, all laden with clothes and jewels of gold ; if a satrap-
had been her admirer, he never could support her expenses,
much less can you.
Men. Is she at your house ?
Chrem. Is she, do you ask ? I have felt it ; for 1 have
^ How I teas affected) — Ver. 436. "Ut essem," literally, "How I
was."
^ If a satrap) — Ver. 452. " Satrapa" was a Persian word signifying
"a ruler of a province." The name was considered as synonymous
with "possessor of wealth almost inexhaustible."
160 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; [Act III.
given her and her retinue one dinner; had I to give them
another such, it would be all over ivith me; for, to pass by
other matters, what a quantity of wine she did consume for
me in tasting only,^ saying thus, "This wine is too acid,'
respected sir,^ do please look for something more mellow."
I opened all the casks, all the vessels;" she kept all on the
stir: and -this hut a single night. What do you suppose
will become of you when they are constantly preying upon
you? So may the Gods prosper me, Menedemus, I do pity
your lot.
Men. Let him do what he will; let him take, waste, and
squander; I'm determined to endure it, so long as I only have
him with me.
' In tasting only) — Vei*. 457. " Pytiso" was the name given to tlie
nasty practice of tasting wine, and then spitting it out; offensive in a
man, but infinitely more so in a woman. It seems in those times
to have been done by persons who wished to give themselves airs in
the houses of private persons ; at the present day it is probably confined
to wine-vaults and sale-rooms where wine is put up to auction, and even
there it is practiced much more than is either necessary or agreeable.
Doubtless Bacchis did it to show her exquisite taste in the matter of
wines.
' Is too acid) — Ver. 458. "Asperum;" meaning that the wine was
not old enough for her palate. The great fault of the Greek wines was
their tartness, for which reason sea-water was mixed with them all ex-
cept the Chian, which was the highest class of wine.
^ Respected sir) — Ver. 459. "Pater," literally "father;" a title by
Avhich the young generally addressed aged persons who were strangers
to them.
* All the casks, all the vessels) — Ver. 460. "Dolia omnia, omnes se-
rias." The finer kinds of wine were drawn off from the " dolia," or
large vessels, into the "amphoraj," which, like the "dolia," were made
of earth, and sometimes of glass. The mouths of the vessels were
stopped tight by a plug of wood or cork, which was made impervioi;s to
the atmosphere by being rubbed over with a composition of pitch, clay,
wax, or gypsum. On the outside, the title of the wine was painted,
and among the Romans the date of the vintage was denoted by the
names of the Consuls then in office. When the vessels Avere of glass,
small tickets or labels, called '' pittacia," were suspended from them,
stating to a similar effect. The "seriaj" were much the same as the
" dolia," perhaps somewhat smaller ; they were both long, bell-mouthed
vessels of earthen-ware, formed of the best clay, and lined with })itch
while hot from the furnace. " Seriaj" were also used to contain oil and
other liquids ; and in the Captivi of Plautus the word is applied to pans
used for the purpose of salting meat. " Relino" signifies the act of tak-
ing the seal of pitch or wax off the stopper of the wine-vessel.
1
Sc. I.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. IGl
Chrem. If it is your determination thus to act, I hold it to
be of very great moment that he should not be aware that
with a full knowledge you grant him this.
Men. What shall I do ?
CiiKEM. Any thing, rather than what you are thinking of;
supply him luith money through some other person ; suiFer
yourself to be imposed upon by the artifices of his servant :
although I have smelt out this too, that they are about that,
and are secretly planning it among them. Syrus is always
whispering with that servant of yours ;^ they impart their
plans to the young men ; and it were better for you to lose a
talent this way, than a mina the other. The money is not
the question now, but this — in what way we can supply it to
the young man with the least danger. For if he once knows
the state of your feelings, that you would sooner part with
your life, and sooner with all your money, than allow your
son to leave you ; whew ! what an inlet^ will you be opening
for his debauchery ! aye, and so much so, that henceforth to
live can not be desirable to you. For we all become worse
through indulgence. Whatever comes into his head, he'll be
wishing for ; nor will he reflect whether that which he desires
is right or wrong. You will not be able to endure your es-
tate and him going to ruin. You will refuse to supply him :
he will immediately have recourse to the means by which he
finds that he has the greatest hold upon you, and threaten
that he will immediately leave you.
Men. You seem to speak the truth, and just what is the
fact.
Chrem. I'faith, I have not been sensible of sleep this night
with my eyes,^ for thinking of this — how to restore your son
to you.
^ With that servaoit of yours) — Ver. 473. Dromo.
2 What an inlet) — Ver. 482. " Fenestrnm ;" literally, "a window."
3 This night icith my eyes) — Ver. 491. Colman has the following Note
here: "Hedelin obstinately contends from this passage, that neither
Chremes nor any of his family went to bed the whole night ; the con-
trary of which is evident, as Menage observes, from the two next
Scenes. For why should Syrus take notice of his being up so early, if
he had never retired to rest? Or would Chremes have reproached
Clitipho for his behavior the night before, had the feast never been in-
terrupted? Eugraphius's interpretation of these words is natural and
obvious, who explains them to signify that the anxiety of Chremes to
restore Clinia to Menedemus broke his rest."
1C2 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; [Act III.
Men. {taking his hand.) Give me your right hand. I request
that you will still act in a like manner, Chremes.
Chrem. I am I'eady to serve you.
Men. Do you know what it is I now want you to do?
Chrem. Tell me.
Men. As you have perceived that they are laying a plan
to deceive me, that they may hasten to complete it. I long
to give him whatever he wants : I am now longing to behold
him.
Chrem. I'll lend my endeavors. This little business is in
my way. Our neighbors Simus and Crito are disputing
here about boundaries ; they have chosen me for arbitrator.
I'll go and tell them that I can not possibly give them my at-
tention to-day as I had stated I would. I'll be here imme-
diately. {Exit.
Men. Pray do. {To himself.) Ye Gods, by our trust in
you ! That the nature of all men should be so constituted,
that they can see and judge of other men's affairs better than
their own! Is it because in our own concerns we are
biased either with joy or grief in too great a degree ? How
much wiser now is he for me, than I have been for my-
self!
He-enter Chremes.
Chrem. I have disengaged myself, that I might lend you
my services at my leisure. Syrus must be found and instruct-
ed by me in this business. Some one, I know not who, is com-
ing out of my house: do you step hence home, that they may
not perceive^ that we are conferring together. (Menedemus
goes into his house.)
Scene II.
Enter Syrus from the house of Chremes.
Syr. {aloud to himself) Eun to and fro in every direction ;
still, money, you must be found : a trap must be laid for the
old man.
^ That they maynot perceive) — Ver. 511. Madame Dacier observes
that Chremes seizes this as a very plausible and necessary pretense to
engage Menedemus to return home, and not to his labors in the field,
as he had at first intended.
Sc. II.] THE SELF-TORMENTOIJ. 1G3
Chrem. {apart, overhearing him.) "Was I deceived in saying
that they were planning this? That servant of Clinia's is
somewhat dull; therefore that province has been assigned to
this one of ours.
Syk. {in a low voice.) Who's that speaking? {Catches sight
o/*Chremes.) I'm undone! Did he hear it, I wonder?
Chrem. Syrus.
Syr. Well
Chrem. What arc you doing here ?
Syr. All right. Kcally, I am quite surprised at you,
Chremes, up so early, after drinking so much yesterday.
Chrem. Not too much.
Syr. Not too much, say you ? Keally, you've seen the old
age of an eagle, ^ as the saying is.
Chrem. Pooh, pooh!
Syr. a pleasant and agreeable woman this Courtesan.
Chrem. Why, so she seemed to me, in fact.
Syr. And really of handsome appearance.
Chrem. Well enough.
Syr. Not like those of former days,^ but as times are now,
very passable : nor do I in the least wonder that Clinia doats
upon her. But he has a father — a certain covetous, miserable,
and niggardly person — this neighbor of ours {pointing to the
house). Do you know him? Yet, as if he was not abound-
ing in wealth, his son ran away through want. Are you
aware that it is the fact, as I am saying?
Chrem. How should I not be aware ? A fellow that de-
serves the mill.
Syr. Who?
^ Old age of an eagle) — Ver. 521. This was a proverbial expression,
signifying a hale and vigorous old age. It has been suggested, too, that
it alludes to the practice of some old men, who drink more than they
eat. It was vulgarly said that eagles never die of old age, and that
when, by reason of their beaks growing inward, they are unable to feed
upon their prey, they live by sucking the blood.
* Not like those of former days) — Ver. 524. Syrus, by showing him-
self an admirer of the good old times, a " laudator temporis acti," is
wishful to flatter the vanity of Chremes, as it is a feeling common to
old age, perhaps by no means an unamiable one, to think former times
better than the present. Aged people feel grateful to those happy hours
when their hopes were bright, and every thing was viewed from the
sunny side of life.
1G4 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; [Act III.
Chrem. That servant of the young gentleman, I mean.
Syr. (aside.) Syrus ! I was sadly afraid for you.
CiiREM. To suffer it to come to this !
Syr. What was he to do *?
Chrem. Do you ask the question? He ought to have
found some expedient, contrived some stratagem, by means of
which there might have been something for the young man to
give to his mistress, and thus have saved this crabbed old fel-
low in spite of himself
Syr. You are smrl?/ joking.
Chrem. This ought to have been done by him, Syrus.
Syr. Plow now — pray, do you commend servants, who de-
ceive their masters ?
Chrem. Upon occasion — I certainly do commend them.
Syr. Quite right.
Chrem. Inasmuch as it often is the remedy for great dis-
turbances. Then would this man's only son have staid at
home.
Syr. (aside.) Whether he says this in jest or in earnest, I
don't know ; only, in fact, that he gives me additional zest for
lon^infr still more to trick him.
Chrem. And what is he now waiting for, Syrus? Is it
until his father drives him away from here a second time,
when he can no longer support her expenses?^ Has he no
plot on foot against the old gentleman ?
Syr. He is a stupid fellow.
Chrem. Then you ought to assist him — for the sake of the
young man.
Syr. For my part, I can do so easily, if you command me ;
for I know well in what fashion it is usually done,
Chrem. So much the better, i' faith.
Syr. 'Tis not my way to tell an untruth.
Chrem. Do it then.
Syr. But hark you ! Just take care and remember this,
in case any thing of this sort should perchance happen at a
future time, such are human affairs ! — your son might do the
same.
Chrem. The necessity will not arise, I trust.
Syr. I' faith, and I trust so too: nor do I say so now,
^ Can no longer support her expenses) — Ver. 541. He refers to Mene-
demus and Bacchis.
Sc. Ill] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 165
because I have suspected him in any way ; but in case, none
the more^ You see what his age is; (aside) and truly,
Chreines,^ if an occasion does happen, I may be able to handle
you right handsomely.
Chrem. As to that, we'll consider v/hat is requisite when
the occasion does happen. At present do you set about this
matter. (Goes into his house.)
Syr. (to himself.) Never on any occasion did I hear my
master talk more to the purpose ; nor at any time could I be-
lieve that I was authorized to play the rogue with greater
impunity. I wonder who it is coming out of our house?
(Stands aside.)
Scene III.
Enter Chremes and Clitipho /ro7n the house of the former.
Chrem. Pray, what does this mean ? "What behavior is
this, Clitipho? Is this acting as becomes you?
Cut. What have I done ?
Chrem. Did I not see you just now putting your hand into
this Courtesan's bosom?
Syr. (apart.) It's all up with us — I'm utterly undone !
Clit. What, I?
Chrem. With these self-same eyes / saw it don't deny
it. Besides, you wrong him unworthily in not keeping your
hands off: for indeed it is a gross affront to entertain a per-
son, your friend, at your house, and to take liberties with
his mistress. Yesterday, for instance, at wine, how rude you
were
Syr. (apart.) 'Tis the truth.^
^ But iti case, none the more) — Ver. 555. " Sed si quid, ne quid."
An instance of Aposiopesis, signifying " But if any thing does happen,
don't you blame me."
2 And truly, Chremes) — Yer. 557. Some suppose that this is said in
apparent candor by Syrns, in order the more readily to throw Chremes
off' his guard. Other Commentators, again, fancy these words to be
said by Syrus in a low voice, aside, which seems not improbable ; it
being a just retribution on Chremes for his recommendation, however
well intended : in that case, Chremes probably overhears it, if we may
judge from his answer.
^ 'Tis the truth)— Vgt. 568. ''Factum." ''Done for" is another
translation which this word will here admit of.
166 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; [Act III.
Chrem. How annoying yoii ivere ! So much so, that for
my part, as the Gods may prosper me, I dreaded what in the
end might be the consequence. I understand lovers. They re-,
sent highly things that you would not imagine.
Clit. But he lias full confidence in me, father, that I wouk
not do any thing of that kind.
Chrem. Be it so; still, at least, you ought to go some-
where for a little time away from their presence. Passion
prompts to many a thing ; your presence acts as a restraint
upon doing them. I form a judgment from myself There's
not one of my friends this day to whom I would venture,
Clitipho, to disclose all my secrets. With one, Im station
forbids it ; with another, I am ashamed of the action itself,
lest I may appear a fool or devoid of shame; do you rest
assured that he does the same.^ But it is our part to be
sensible oithis; and, when and where it is requisite, to show
due complaisance.
Syr. [coming forward and ivhispering to Clitipho.) What is
it he is saying ?
Clit. {aside, to Syrus.) I'm utterly undone!
Syr. Clitipho, these same injunctions I gave you. You
have acted the part of a prudent and discreet person.^
Clit. Hold your tongue, I beg.
Syr. Very good.
Chrem. {approaching them.) Syrus, I am ashamed of him.
Syr. I believe it; and not without reason. Why, he
vexes myself even.
Clit. {to Syrus.) Do you persist, then ?
Syr. r faith, I'm saying the truth, as it appears to me.
Clit. May I not go near them ?
Chrem. Hoav now — pray, is there but one way^ of going
near them ^
Syr. {aside.) Confusion ! He'll be betraying himself before
I've got the money. {Aloud.) Chremes, will you give atten-
tion to me, who am but a silly person?
Chrem. What am I to do ?
Syr. Bid him go somewhere out of the way.
1 That he does the same) — Ver. 577. Clinia.
2 Of a prudent and discreet person) — Ver. 680. This is said iron-
;cally.
^ Is there hut one way) — Ver. 583. And that an immodest one.
Sc. III.] THE SELF-TOKMENTOR. 167
Cut. Where am I to go ?
Syr. Where you please ; leave the place to them ; be off
and take a walk.
Cut. Take a walk ! where ?
Syk. Pshaw! Just as if there was no place to walk in.
Why, then, go this way, that way, where you will.
Chrem. He says right, I'm of his opinion.
Clit. May the Gods extirpate you, Syrus, for thrusting me
away from here.
Syr. {aside to Clitipho ) Then do you for the future keep
those hands o/T/owrs within bounds. (£0:2'^ Clitipho.) Really
now (to Chremes), what do you think? What do you im-
agine will become of him next, unless, so far as the Gods
afford you the means, you watch him, correct aiid admonish
him ?
Chrem. I'll take care of that.
Syr. But now, master, he must be looked after by you.
Chrem. It shall be done.
Syr. If you are wise, — for now he minds me less and less
evejy day.
Chrem. What say you? What have you done, Syrus,
about that matter which I was mentioning to you a short
time since? Have you any '2olan that suits you, or not yet
even ?
Syr. You mean the design upon Menedemus ? I have ; I
have just hit upon one.
Cpirem. You are a clever fellow ; what is it ? Tell me.
Syr. I'll tell you; but, as one matter arises out of an-
other
Chrem. Why, what is it, Syrus?
Syr. This Courtesan is a very bad woman.
Chrem. So she seems.
Syr. Aye, if you did but know.- O shocking! just see
what she is hatching. There was a certain old woman
here from Corinth, — this Bacchis lent her a thousand silver
drachmae.
Chrem. What then ?
Syr. She is now dead : she has left a daughter, a young
girl. She has been left with this Bacchis as a pledge for that
sum.
Chrem. I understand you.
168 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; [Act III., Sc. IV.
Syr. She has brought her hither along with her, her I mean
who is now with your wifei^
CiiREM. What then ?
Syk. She is soliciting CHnia at once to advance her this
money ; she says, however, that this girl is to be a security,
that, at a future time, she will repay the thousand pieces of
money.
Chrem. And would she really be a security V
Syr. Dear me, is it to be doubted '? I think so.
Chrem. What then do you intend doing ?
Syr. What, I? I shall go to Menedemus; I'll tell him she
is a captive from Caria, rich, and of noble family; if he re-
deems her, there will be a considerable profit in this transac-
tion.
Chrem. You arc in an error.
Syr. Why so?
Chrem. I'll now answer you for Menedemus — I will not
purchase her.
Syr. What is it you say? Do speak more agreeably to
our wishes.
Chrem. But there is no occasion.
Syr. No occasion?
Chrem. Certainly not, i' faith.
Syr. How so, I wonder ?
CiniEM. You shall soon know.^
' With your icife) — Ver. 604. Madame Dacier remarks, that as Anti-
phila is shortly to be acknowledged as the daughter of Chremes, she is
not therefore in company with the other women at the feast, who are
Courtesans, but with the wife of Chremes, and consequently free from
reproach or scandal.
^ Would she really he a security)— Yer. 606. The question of Chremes
seems directed to the fact whether the girl is of value sufficient to be
good security for the thousand drachma;.
- You shall soon know) — Ver. 612. Madame Dacier suggests thnt
Chremes is prevented by his wife's coming from making a proposal to
advance the money himself, on the supposition that it will be a lucra-
tive speculation. This notion is contradicted by Colman, who adds the
following note from Eugraphius: "Syrus pretends to have concerted
this plot against Menedemus, in order to trick him out of some money
to be given to Clinia's supposed mistress. Chremes, however, does not
approve of this : yet it serves to carry on the plot ; for when Antiphila
proves afterward to be the daughter of Chremes, he necessarily becomes
the debtor of Bacchis, and is .obliged to lay down the sum for which he
imagines his daughter is pledged."
Act IV., Sc. L] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 169
Syk. Stop, stop ; what is the reason that there is such a
great noise at our door ? {They retire out of sight.)
ACT THE FOURTH.
Scene I.
Enter Sostrata and a Nurse in haste from the house of
Chremes, and Chremes and Syrus on the other side of the
stage unperceived,
Sos. (holding up a ring and examining it.) Unless my fancy
deceives me, surely this is the ring which I suspect it to be,
the same with which my daughter was exposed.
Chrem. (apart.) Syrus, what is the meaning of these ex-
pressions %
Sos. Nurse, how is it? Does it not seem to you the
same?
NuR. As for me, I said it was the same the very instant
that you showed it me.
Sos. But have you now examined it thoroughly, my dear
nurse ?
NuR. Thoroughly.
Sos. Then go in-doors at once, and if she has now done
bathing, bring me word. Til wait here in the mean time for
my husband.
Syr. (apart.) She wants you, see what it is she wants ; she
is in a serious mood, I don't know why ; it is not without a
cause 1 fear what it may be.
Chrem. Whatit may be? I' faith, she'll now surely be an-
nouncing some important trifle, with a great parade.
Sos. (turning round.) Ha ! my husband !
Chrem. Ha ! my wife !
Sos. I was looking for you.
Chrem. Tell me what you want.
Sos. In the first place, this I beg of you, not to believe
that I have ventured to do any thing contrary to your com-
mands.
Chrem. Would you have me believe you in this, althougli
so incredible ? Well, I will believe you.
H
170 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; [Act IV.
Syk. {aside.) This excuse portends I know not what of-
fense.
Sos. Do you remember me being pregnant, and yourself
declaring to me, most peremptorily, that if I should bring
forth a girl, you would not have it brought up.
Chrem. I know what you have done, you have brought
it up.
Syr. {aside.) Such is the fact, Fm sure : my young master
has gained a loss^ in consequence.
Sos. Not at all ; but there was here an elderly woman of
Corinth, of no indifferent character ; to her 1 gave it to be ex-
posed.
Chrem. O Jupiter ! that there should be such extreme folly
in a person's mind.
Sos. Alas! what have I done?
Chrem. And do you ask the question?
Sos. If I have acted wrong, my dear Chremcs, I have done
so in ignorance.
Chrem. This, indeed, I know for certain, even if you were
to deny it, that in every thing you both speak and act igno-
rantly and foolishly : how many blunders you disclose in this
single affair ! For, in the first place, then, if you had been
disposed to obey my orders, the child ought to have been dis-
patched ; you ought not in words to have feigned her death,
and in reality to have left hopes of her surviving. But that
I pass over ; compassion, maternal affection, I allow it. But
how finely you did provide for the future ! What was your
meaning ? Do reflect. It's clear, beyond a doubt, that your
daughter was betrayed by you to this old woman, either that
through you she might make a living by her, or that she
might be sold in open market as a slave. I suppose you rea-
soned thus : *' any thing is enough, if only her life is saved :"
what are you to do with those who understand neither law,
nor right and justice? Be it for better or for worse, be it for
them or against them, they see nothing except just what they
please.
Sos. My dear Chremes, I have done wrong, I own ; I am
convinced. Now this I beg of you ; inasmuch as you are
^ lias gained a loss) — Ver. 628. He alludes to Clitiplio, who, by the
discovery of his sister, would not come in for such a large share of his
father's property, and would consequently, as Syrus observes, gain a loss.
I
Sc. I.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 171
more advanced in years than I, be so much the more ready to
forgive; so that your justice may be some protection for my
weakness.
Chrem. I'll readily forgive you doing this, of course; but,
Sostrata, my easy temper prompts you to do amiss. But,
whatever this circumstance is, by reason of which this was be-
gun upon, proceed to tell it.
Sos. As we women are all foolishly and wretchedly super-
stitious, when I delivered the chilcf to her to be exposed, I
drew a ring from off my finger, and ordered lier to expose it,
together with the child ; that if she should die, she might not
be without^ some portion of our possessions.
CiiKEM. That luas right ; thereby you proved the saving of
yourself and her. 2 ^
Sos. {holding out the ring?) This is that ring.
Chrem. Whence did you get if?
Sos. From the young woman whom Bacchis brought here
with her.
Syr. (aside.) Ha!
Chrem. What does she say 1
Sos. She gave it me to keep for her, while she went to
bathe. At first I paid no attention to it; but after I looked
at it, I at once recognized it, a?id came running to you.
Chrem. What do you suspect now, or have you discovered,
relative to her ?
Sos. I don't know ; unless you inquire of herself whence
she got it, if that can possibly be discovered.
^ Tliat she might not he without) — Ver. G52. Madame Dacier observes
upon this passage, that the ancients thought themselves guilty of a
heinous offense if they suffered their children to die without having be-
stowed on them some of their property ; it was consequently the cus-
tom of the women, before exposing children, to attach to them some
jewel or trinket among their clothes, hoping thereby to avoid incurring
the guilt above mentioned, and to ease their consciences:
^ Saving of yourself and her) — Ver. 653. Madame Dacier says that
the meaning of this passage is this : Chremes tells his wife that by hav-
ing given this ring, she has done two good acts instead of one — she has
both cleared her conscience and saved the child ; for had there been no
ring or token exposed with the infant, the finder would not have been at
the trouble of taking care of it, but might have left it to perish, never
suspecting it would be inquired after, or himself liberally rewarded
for having preserved it.
172 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; [Act IV.
Syr. (aside.) I'm undone! I see more hopes^/rom this in-
cident than I desire. If it is so, she certainly must be ours.
Chkem. Is this ivoman living to whom you delivered the
child 1
Sod. I don't know.
CiiREM. What account did she bring you at the time %
Sos. That she had done as I had ordered her.
Chrem. Tell me what is the woman's name, that she may
be inquired after.
Sos. Philtere.
Syr. {aside.) 'Tis the very same. It's a wonder if she
isn't found, and I lost.
Chrem. Sostrata, follow me this way in-doors.
Sos. How much beyond my hopes hq^ this matter turned
out ! How dreadfully afraid I was, Chremes, that you would
now be of feelings as unrelenting as formerly you were on ex-
posing the child.
Chrem. Many a time a man can not be*^ such as he would
be, if circumstances do not admit of it. Time has now so
brought it about, that I should be glad of a daughter ; former-
ly / wished for nothing less.
(Chremes and Sostrata go into the house.)
Scene II.
Syrus alone.
Syr. Unless my fancy deceives me,^ retribution^ will not
' 1 see more hopes) — Ver. 659. Sjrus is now alai-med that Antiphila
should so soon be acknowledged as the daughter of Chremes, lest he
may lose the opportunity of obtaining the money, and be punished as
well, in case the imposition is detected, and Bacchis discovered to be
the mistress of Clitipho and not of Clinia.
' A man can not he) — Ver, QQ>Q. This he says by way of palliating
the cruelty he was guilty of in his orders to have the child put to
death.
^ Unless my fancy deceives me) — Ver. 668. "Nisi me animus fallit,"
He comically repeats the very same words with which Sostrata com-
menced in the last Scene.
* Retribution) — Ver. 668. "Infortunium!" was the name by which
the slaves commonly denoted a beating. Colman has the following
remark here : " Madame Dacier, and most of the later critics who have
implicitly followed her, tell us that in the interval between the third
I
Sc. III.] THE SELF-TORMENTOK. 173
be very far off from me ; so much by this incident are my
forces now utterly driven into straits ; unless I contrive by
some means that the old man mayn't come to know that
this damsel is his son's mistress. For as to entertaining
any hopes about the money, or supposing I could cajole him,
it's useless ; I shall be sufficiently triumphant, if I'm allowed
to escape with my sides covered.^ I'm vexed that such a
tempting morsel has been so suddenly snatched away from
my jaws. What am I to do ? Or what shall I devise ? I
must begin upon my plan over again. Nothing is so diffi-
cult, but that it may be found out by seeking. What now
if I set about it after this fashion. {He considers.) That's of
no use. What, if after this fashion? I effect just about
the same. But this I think will do. It can not. Yes!
excellent. Bravo ! I've found out the best of all — I' faith, I
do believe that after all I shall lay hold of this same run-
away money.2
Scene III.
Enter Clinia at the other side of tlie stage.
Clin, {to himselj.) Nothing can possibly henceforth befall
and fourth Acts, Syrus has been present at the interview between
Chremes and Antiphila within. The only difficulty in this doctrine is
how to reconcile it to the apparent ignorance of Syrus, which he dis-
covers at the entrance of Chnia. But this objection, says she, is easily
answered. Syrus having partly heard Antiphila's story, and finding
things likely to take an unfavorable turn, retires to consider what is
best to be done. But surely this is a most unnatural impatience at so
ci-itical a conjuncture ; and, after all, would it not be better to take up
the matter just where Terence has left it, and to suppose that Syrus
knew nothing more of the affair than what might be collected from the
late conversation between Chremes and Sostrata, at which we know he
was present ? This at once accounts for his apprehensions, which he
betrayed even during that Scene, as well as for his imperfect knowl-
edge of the real state of the case, till apprised of the whole by Clinia."
^ Willi my sides covered) — Ver. 673. Pie most probably alludes to the
custom of tying up the slaves by their hands, after stripping them naked,
when of course their " latera" or " sides" would be exposed, and come
in for a share of the lashes.
- Runaway money) — Ver. 678. "Fugitivum argentum." Madame
Dacier suggests that this is a bad translation of the words ofMenander,
which were ^^aTToarpeipeiv rov dpanerav ;^;pt;f76i'," where "^^pi^aof" signi-
fied both "gold" and the name of a slave.
174 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; [Act IV.
me of such consequence as to cause me uneasiness ; so ex-
treme is this joy that has surprised me. Now then I sliall
give myself up entirely to my father, to be more frugal than
even he could wish.
Syr. {apart.) I wasn't mistaken ; she has been discovered,
so far as I understand from these words of his. (Advancing.)
I am rejoiced that this matter has turned out for you so much
to your wish.
Clin. O my dear Syrus, have you heard of it, pray?
Syr. How shouldn't I, when I was present all the
while 1
Clin. Did you ever hear of any thing falling out so fortu-
nately for any one?
Syr. Never.
Clin. And, so may the Gods prosper me, I do not now re-
joice so much on my own account as hers, whom I know to
be deserving of any honor.
Syr. I believe it: but now, Clinia, come, attend to me
in my turn. For your friend's business as well, — it must be
seen to — that it is placed in a state of security, lest the old
gentleman should now come to know any thing about his mis-
tress.
Clin. O Jupiter !
Syr. Do be quiet.
Clin. My Antiphila will be mine.
Syr. Do you still interrupt me thus ?
Clin. What can I do? My dear Syrus, I'm transported
with joy ! Do bear with me.
Syr. r faith, I really do bear with you.
Clin. We are blest with the life of the Gods.
Sy^r. I'm taking pains to no purpose, I doubt.
Clin. Speak ; I hear you.
Syr. But still you'll not mind it.
Clin. I will.
Syr. This must be seen to, I say, that your friend's busi-
ness as well is placed in a state of security. For if you now
go away from us, and leave Bacchis here, our old man will
immediately come to know that she is Clitipho's mistress ; if
you take her away with you, it will be concealed just as much
as it has been hitherto concealed.
Clin. But still, Syrus, nothing can make more against my
I
So. III.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 175
marriao-e than tliis; for with what face am I to address my
father about it ? You understand what I mean ?
Syr. Why not?
Clik. What can I say % What excuse can I make ?
Syr. Nay, I don't want you to dissemble ; tell him the
whole case just as it really is.
Clin. What is it you say ?
Syr. I bid you do this; tell him that you are in love with
her, and want her for a wife : that this Bacchis is Clitipho's
mistress.
Clin. You require a thing that is fair and reasonable, and
easy to be done. And I suppose, then, you would have me
request my father to keep it a secret from your old man.
Syr. On the contrary; to tell him directly the matter just
as it is.
Clin. What? Are you quite in your senses or sober?
Why, you were for ruining him outright. For how could he
be in a state of security ? Tell me that.
Syr. For my part, I yield the palm to this device. Here I
do pride myself exultingly, in having in myself such exquisite
resources, and power of address so great, as to deceive them
both by telling the truth : so that when your old man tells
ours that she is his son's mistress, he'll still not believe him.
Clin. But yet, by these means you again cut off all hopes
of my marriage ; for as long as Chremes believes that she
is my mistress, he'll not give me his daughter. Perhaps
you care little wdiat becomes of me, so long as you provide
for him.
Syr. What the plague, do you suppose I want this pre-
tense to be kept up for an age ? 'Tis but for a single day,
only till I have secured the money : you be quiet ; / ask no
more.
Clin. Is that sufficient? If his father should come to know
of it, pray, what then ?
Syr. What if I have recourse to those who say, " WhaJ
now if the sky were to fall? "^
1 If the shy were to fall) — Ver. 719. He means those who create un-
necessary difficulties in their imagination. Colman quotes the following
remark from Patrick: "There is a remarkable passage in Arrian's
Account of Alexander, lib. iv., where he tells us that some embassador;^
176 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; [Act IV.
Clin. I'm afraid to go about it.
Syr. You, afraid ! As if it was not in your power to
clear yourself at any time you like, and discover the whole
matter.
Clin. Well, well ; let Bacchis be brouo^ht over to our
Syr. Capital ! she is coming out of doors.
Scene IV.
Enter Bacchis and Piirygia, from the house of Chremes.
Baccii. {2-)retending not to see Clinia and Syrus.) To a
very fine purpose,^ upon my faith, have the promises of Syrus
brought me hither, who agreed to lend me ten min^e. If
now he deceives me, oft as he may entreat me to come, he
shall come in vain. Or else, when I've promise 1 to come, and
fixed the time, when he has carried word back for certain,
and Clitipho is on the stretch of expectation, I'll disappoint
him and not come. Syrus will Aake atonement to me with
his back.
Clin, {apart, to Syrus.) She promises you very fairly.
from the Celtic, being asked by Alexander what in the world they
dreaded most, answered, ' That they feared lest tlie sky should faU
[upon them].' Alexander, who expected to hear himself named, was
surprised at an answer which signified that they thought themselves
beyond the reach of all human" power, plainly implying that nothing
could hurt them, unless he would suppose impossibilities, or a total
destruction of nature." Aristotle, in his Physics, B. iv., informs us
that it was the early notion of ignorant nations that the sky was sup-
ported on the shoulders of Atlas, and that when he let go of it, it would
fall.
^ To a very fine purpose) — Ver. 723. " Satis pol proterve," »S;c.
C. Lielius was said to have assisted Terence in the composition of his
Plays, and in confirmation of this, the following story is told by Cor-
nelius Nepos : " C. Laclius, happening to pass the Matronalia [a Festi-
val on the first of March, when the husband, for once in the year, was
bound to obey the wife] at his villa near Puteoli, was told that dinner
was waiting, but still neglected the summons. At last, Avhen he made
his appearance, he excused himself by saying that he had been in a
particular vein of composition, and quoted certain lines which occur in
the Heautontimorumenos, namely, those beginning ' Satis pol proterve
me Syri promissa hue induxerunt.' "
I
1
Sc. I V.J THE SELF-TOEMENTOR. 177
Syr. {to Clinia.) But do you think she is in jest '^ She'll
do it, if I don't take care.
Baccii. {aside.) They're asleep^ — I'faith, I'll rouse them.
{Aloud.) My dear Phrygia, did you hear about the country-
seat of Charinus, which that man was showing us just now?
Phry. I heard of it.
Bacch. {aloud.) That it was the next to the farm here on
the right-hand side.^
PiiRY. I remember.
Baccii. {aloud.) Run thither post-haste ; the Captain is
keeping the feast of Bacchus^ at his house.
Syr. {apart.) What is she going to be at ?
Bacch. {aloud.) Tell him I am here very much against
my inclination, and am detained ; but that by some means
or other I'll give them the slip and come to Mm. (Phrygia
moves.)
Syr. {coming forward.) Upon my faith, I'm ruined! Bac-
chis, stay, stay ; prithee, where are you sending her % Order
her to stop.
Bacch. {to Phrygia.) Be off.
Syr. Why, the money's ready.
Bacch. Why, then I'll stay. (Phrygia returns.)
Syr. And it will be given you presently.
Bacch. Just when you please ; do I press you ? ,
Syr. But do you know what you are to do, pray ?
Bacch. What?
Syr. You must now go over to the house of Menedemus,
and your equipage must be taken over thither.
Bacch. What scheme are you upon, you rascal?
Syr. What, I ? Coining money to give you.
Baccii. Do you think me a proper person for you to play
upon ?
^ They're asleep) — Ver. 730. " Dormiunt." This is clearly used figur-
atively, though Hedelin interprets it literally.
^ Farm here on the i-ight-hand side) — Ver. 732. Cooke suggests that
the Poet makes Bacchis call the house of Charinus "villa," and that of
Chremes " fundus" (which signifies " a farm-house," or "farm"), for the
purpose of exalting the one and depreciating the other in the hearing
of Syrus.
^ The feast of Bacchus) — Ver. 733. This passage goes far to prove
i\int the Dionysia here mentioned as being celebrated, were those /car'
uygovr, or the "rural Dionvsia."
112
178 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; [Act IV.
Sye. It's not without a purpose.
Bacch. {iwinling to the house.) Why, have I auy business
then with you here %
Syr. O no ; I'm only going to give you what's your own.
Baccit. Then let's be going.^
Syr. Follow this way. ( Goes to the door of Menedemus,
and calls.) Ho there ! Dromo.
Enter Dromo from the house,
Dro. Who is it wants rae ?
Syr. Syrus.
Dro. What's the matter?
Syr. Take over all the attendants of Bacchis to your house
here immediately.
Dro. AVhy so?
Syr. Ask no questions. Let them take what they brought
here with them. The old gentleman will hope his expenses
are lightened by their departure ; for sure he little knows how
much loss this trifling gain will bring him. You, Dromo, if
you are wise, know nothing of what you do know.
Dro. You shall own that I'm dumb. (Clinia, Bacciits,
and PiiRYGiA go into the house of Menedemus, and Dromo
follows with Bacchis's retinue and baggage.)
Scene V.
Enter Chremes /rom his house.
Chrem. {to himself.) So may the Deities prosper me, I am
now concerned for the fate of Menedemus, that so great a
misfortune should have befallen him. To be maintaining
that woman with such a retinue! Although I am well
aware he'll not be sensible of it for some days to come, his son
was so greatly missed by him ; but when he sees such a vast
expense incurred by him every day at home, and no limit to
^ Lefs he going) — Ver. 742. Colman here remarks to the following
effect: "There is some difficulty in this and the next speech in the
original, and the Commentators have been puzzled to make sense of
them. It seems to me that the Poet's intention is no more than this :
Bacchis expi'esses some reluctance to act under the direction of Syrus,
but is at length prevailed on, finding that h» can by those means con-
trive to pay her the money which he has promiiied her."
Sc. v.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 179
it, he'll wish that this son would leave him a second time.
See — here comes Syrus most opportunely.
Syk. {to himself, as he comes forward.) Why delay to accost
him ?
Chkem. Syrus.
Syk. Well.
Chrem. How go matters ?
Syr. I've been wishing for some time for you to be thrown
in my way.
Chrem. You seem, then, to have effected something, I know
not what, with the old gentleman.
Syk. As to what we were talking of a short time since ^
No sooner said than done.
Chrem. In real earnest ?
Syr. In real.
Chrem. Upon my faith, I can not forbear patting your head
for it. Come here, Syrus ; I'll do you some good turn for
this matter, and with pleasure. {Patting his head.)
Syr. But if you knew how cleverly it came into my
head
Chrem. Pshaw ! Do you boast because it has turned out
according to your wishes ?
Syr. On my word, not I, indeed; I am telling the truth.
Chrem. Tell me how it is.
Syr. Clinia has told Menedemus, that this Bacchis is your
Clitipho's mistress, and that he has taken her thither with him
in order that you might not come to know of it.
Chrem. Very good.
Syk. Tell me, please, ivhat you think of it.
Chrem. Extremely good, I declare.
Syr. Why yes, pretty fair. But listen, what a piece of
policy still remains. He is then to say that he has seen your
daughter — that her beauty charmed him as soon as he beheld
her ; and that he desires her for a wife.
Chrem. What, her that has just been discovered?
Syr. The same ; and, in fact, he'll request that she may be
asked for.
Chrem. For what purpose, Syrus *? For I don't altogether
comprehend it.
Syr. O dear, you are so dull.
Chrem. Perhaps so.
180 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; [Act IV.
Syr. Money will be given him for the wedding — with which
golden trinkets and clothes do you understand me ?
Chkem. To buy them ?
Syr. Just so.
Chrem. But I neither give nor betroth my daughter to him.
Syr. But why ?
Chrem. Why, do you ask me ? To a fellow
Syr. Just as you please. I don't mean that in reality you
should give her to him, but that you should pretend it.
CiiREM. Pretending is not in my way ; do you mix up these
plots of yours, so as not to mix me up in them. Do you think
that I'll betroth my daughter to a person to whom I will not
marry her?
Syr. I imagined so.
CiiREM. By no means.
Syr. It might have been cleverly managed ; and I under-
took this affair for the very reason, that a short time since you
so urgently requested it.
Chrem. I believe you.
Syr. But for my part, Chremes, I take it well and good,
either way.
Chrem. But still, I especially wish you to do your best for
it to be brought about ; but in some other way.
Syr. It shall be done : some other method must be thought
of; but as to what I was telling you of, — about the money
which she owes to Bacchis, — that must now be repaid her.
And you will not, of course, now be having recourse to this
method; "What have I to do with it? Was it lent to me?
•Did I give any orders? Had she the power to pawn my
daughter without my consent ?" They quote that saying,
Chremes, with good reason, " Kigorous law^ is often rigorous
injustice."
Chrem. I will not do so.
Syr. On the contrary, though others were at liberty, you
are not at liberty ; all think that you are in good and very
easy circumstances.
^ Rigorous law) — Ver. 796. Cicero mentions the same proverb in
his work De Officiis, B. i., eh. 10, substituting the word "injuria" for
" malitia." " ' Extreme law, extreme injustice,' is now become a stale
proverb in discourse." The same sentiment is found in th^ Fragments
of Menander.
Sc. VL] THE SF.LF-TORMENTOR. 181
Chrem. Nay rather, I'll at once carry it to her myself.
Syr. Why no ; request your son in preference.
Chrem. For what reason ?
Syr. Why, because the suspicion of being in love wjth her
has been transferred to him ivith Menedemus.
Chrem. What then ?
Syr. Because it will seem to be more like probability
when he gives it her; and at the same time I shall effect
more easily what I wish. Here he comes too ; go, and bring
out the money.
CnfeEM. I'll bring it. {Goes into his house.)
Scene VL
Enter Clitipho.
Clit. {to himself.) There is nothing so easy but that it
becomes difficult when you do it with reluctance. As this
walk of mine, for instance, though not fatiguing, it has re-
duced me to weariness. And now I dread nothing more
than that I should be packed off somewhere hence once
again, that I may not have access to Bacchis. May then all
the Gods and Goddesses, as many as exist, confound you,
Syrus, with these stratagems and plots of yours. You are
always devising something of this kind, by means of which to
torture me.
Syr. Will you not away with you — to where you deserve ?
How nearly had your forwardness proved my ruin !
Clit. Upon my faith, I wish it had been so; just Avhat you
deserve.
Syr. Deserve? How so? Really, I'm glad that I've
heard this from you before you had the money which I was
just going to give you.
Cut. What then would you have me to say to you ? You've
made a fool of me ; brought my mistress hither, whom I'm
not allowed to touch
Syr. Well, I'm not angry then. But do you know where
Bacchis is just now ?
Cut. At our house.
Syr. No.
Cut. Where then ?
182 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; [Act IV.
Syr. At Clinia's.
Clit. I'm ruined !
Syr. Be of good heart ; you shall presently carry to her
the money that you promised her.
Clit. You do prate away. — Where from?
Syr. From your own father.
Clit. Perhaps you are joking with me.
Syr. The thing itself will prove it.
Clit. Indeed, then, I am a lucky man. Syrus, I do love
you from my heart.
Syr- But your father's coming out. Take care not to
express surprise at any thing, for what reason it is done;
give way at the proper moment ; do what he orders, and say
but little.
Scene VII.
Enter Chremes from the house, with a hag of money.
Chrem. Where's Clitipho now ?
Syr. {aside to Clitipiio.) Say — here I am.
Clit. Here am I.
Chrem. {to Syrus.) Have you told him how it is ?
Syr. I've told him pretty well every thing.
Chrem. Take this money, and carry it. {Holding out the
hag.)
Syr. {aside to Clitipho.) Go — why do you stand still, you
stone ; why don't you take it ?
Clit. Very well, give it me. {Receives the hag.)
Syr. {to Clitipho.) Follow me this way directly. {I'o
Chremes.) You in the mean while will wait here for us till
we return ; for there's no occasion for us to stay there long,
(Clitipho and Syrus go into the house 0/ Menedemus.)
Chrem. {to himself) My daughter, in fact, has now had
ten mince from me, which I consider as paid for her board ;
another ten will follow these for clothes; and then she will
require two talents for her portion. How many things,
Jo^/i just and unjust, are sanctioned by custom!^ Now I'm
^ Are sanctioned hy custom) — Ver. 839. lie inveighs, perhaj)S justl}^,
against the tyranny of custom; but iu selecting this occasion for
doing so, he does not manifest any great affection for his newly-found
daughter.
Sc. VIII.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 183
obliged, neglecting my business, to look out for some one on
whom to bestow my property, that has been acquired by my
labor.
Scene VIII.
Enter Menedemus from his house.
Men. (to CoNiA within.) My son, I now think myself the
happiest of all men, since I find that you have returned to a
rational mode of life.
Chrem. (aside.) How much he is mistaken !
Men. Chremes, you are the very person I wanted ; pre-
serve, so far as in you lies, my son, myself, and my family.
Chrem. Tell me what you would have me do.
Men. You have this day found a daughter.
Chrem. What then ?
Men. Clinia wishes her to be given him for a wife.
Chrem. Pritliee, what kind of a person arc you ?
Men. Why?
Chrem. Have you already forgotten what passed between
us, concerning a scheme, that by that method some money
might be got out of you ?
Men. I remember.
Chrem. That self-same thing they are now about.
Men. What do you tell me, Chremes? Why surely, this
Courtesan, who is at my house, is Clitipho's mistress.
Chrem. So they say, and you believe it all ; and they say
that he is desirous of a wife, in order that, when I have
betrothed her, you may give him money, with which to
provide gold trinkets and clothing, and other things that are
requisite.
Men. That is it, no doubt ; that money will be given to his
mistress.
Chrkm. Of course it is to be given.
Men. Alas ! in vain then, unhappy man, have I been over-
joyed ; still however, I had rather any thing than be deprived
of him. What answer now shall I report from you, Chremes,
so that he may not perceive that I have found it out, and take
it to heart ?
Chrem. To heart, indeed! you are too indulgent to him,
Menedemus.
184 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; [Act V.
Men. I^t me go on ; I have 7iow begun : assist me in this
throughout, Chremes.
Chrem. Say then, that you have seen me, and have treated
about the marriage.
Men. I'll say so — what then?
CiiEEM. That I will do every thing ; that as a son-in-law
he meets my approbation ; in fine, too, if you like, tell him
also that she has been promised him.
Men. Well, that's what I wanted
CiiREM. That he may the sooner ask of you, and you may
as soon as possible give him what you wish.
Men. It is my wish.
Chrem. Assuredly, before very long, according as I view
this matter, you'll have enough of him. But, however that
may be, if you are wise, you'll give to him cautiously, and a
little at a time.
Men. I'll do so.
Chrem. Go in-doors and see how much he requires. I
shall be at home, if you should want me for any thing.
Men. I certainly do want you ; for I shall let you know
whatever I do. {They go into their respective houses.)
ACT THE FIFTH.
Scene I.
Enter Menedemus from his house.
Men. (to himself.) I am quite aware that I am not so over-
wise, or so very quick-sighted ; but this assistant, prompter,
and director^ of mine, Chremes, outdoes me in that. Any
one of those epithets which are applied to a fool is suited to
myself, such as dolt, post, ass,^ lump of lead ; to him not one
can apply ; his stupidity surpasses them all.
^ Assistant, pr-ompter, and director) — ^Ver. 875. The three terms here
used are borrowed from the stage. " Adjutor" was the person who as-
sisted the performers either by voice or gesture; "monitor" was the
prompter; and " pramonstrator" was the pei'son who in the rehearsal
trained the actor in his part.
' Dolt, post, ass) — Ver. 877. There is a similar passage in the Bac-
Sc. I.] THE SELF-TORMENTOE. 185
Enter Chkemes, speaking to Sostrata within.
Chrem. Hold now, do, wife, leave oiF dinning the Gods
with thanksgivings that your daughter has been discovered ;
unless you judge of them by your own disposition, and think
that they understand nothing, unless the same thing has been
told them a hundred times. But, in the mean time, why does
my son linger there so long with Syrus ?
Men. What persons do you say are lingering ?
Chrem. Ha ! Menedemus, you have come opportunely.
Tell me, have you told Clinia what I said ?
Men. Every thing.
Chrem. What did he say?
Men. He began to rejoice, just like people do who wish to
be married.
Chrem. (laughing.) Ha! ha! ha!
Men. Why are you laughing ?
Chrem. The sly tricks of my servant, Syvus, Just came into
my mind.
Men. Did they ?
Chrem. The rogue can even mould the countenances of
people. ^
Men. That my son is pretending that he is overjoyed, is it
that you mean ?
Chrem. Just so. (Laughing.)
Men. The very same thing came into my mind.
Chre3I. a crafty knave !
Men. Still more would you think such to be the fact, if
you knew more.
Chrem. Do you say so ?
Men. Do you give attention then ?
Chrem. Just stop — first I want to know this, what money
you have squandered; for when you told your son that she
was promised, of course Dromo would at once throw in a word
•
chides of Plautus, 1. 1087. " Whoever there are in any place whatso-
ever, whoever have been, and whoever shall be in time to come, fools,
blockheads, idiots, dolts, sots, oafs, lubbers, I singly by far exceed them
all in folly and absurd ways."
^ Mould the countenances of people) — ^Ver. 887. He means that Syrus
not only lays his plots well, but teaches the performers to put on coun-
tenances suitable to the several parts they are to act.
186 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; [Act V.
that golden jewels, clothes, and attendants would be needed
for the bride, in order that you might give the money.
Men. No.
Chkem. How, no %
Men. No, I tell you.
Chrem. Nor yet your son himself?
Men. Not in the slightest, Chremes. He was only the
more pressing on this one point, that the match might be con-
cluded to-day.
CnREM. You say what's surprising. What did my servant
Syrus do? Didn't even he say any thing?
Men. Nothing at all.
Chrem. For what reason, I don't know.
Men. For my part, I wonder at that, when you know other
things so well. But this same Syrus has moulded your son,^
too, to such perfection, that there could not be even the slight-
est suspicion that she is Clinia's mistress !
Chrem. What do you say ?
Men. Not to mention, then, their kissing and embracing ;
that I count nothing.
Chrem. What more could be done to carry on the cheat ?
Men. Pshaw!
Chrem. What do you mean ?
Men. Only listen. In the inner part of my house there is
a certain room at the back ; into this a bed was brought, and
was made up with bed-clothes.
Chrem. What took place after this ?
Men. No sooner said than done, thither went Clitipho.
Chrem. Alone?
Men. Alone.
Chrem. I'm alarmed.
Men. Bacchis followed directly.
Chrem. Alone?
Men. Alone.
Chrem. I'm undone !
Men. 'When they had gone into the room, they shut the
door.
Chrem. Well — did Clinia see all this going on ?
^ Has moulded your son) — Ver. 898. "Mirefinxit." He sarcastic-
ally uses the same word, *' fingo," -which Chremes himself employed
in 1. 887.
Sc. I.J THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 187
Men. How shouldn't he? He was with me.
Chrem. Bacchis is my son's mistress, Menedemus — I'm
undone.
Men. ^YhJ so ?
Chrem. I have liardly substance to suffice for ten days.'
Men. What ! are you alarmed at it, because he is paying
attention to his friend ?
Chrem. His "she-friend" rather.2
Men. If he ideally is paying it.
Chrem. Is it a matter of doubt to you? Do you suppose
that there is any person of so accommodating and tame a spirit
as to suffer his own mistress, himself looking on, to
Men. (chuckling and speaking ironically.') Why not? That
I may be imposed upon the more easily.
Chrem. Do you laugh at me? You have good reason.
How angry I now am with myself! How many things gave
proof, whereby, had I not been a stone, I might have been
fully sensible of this ? What was it I saw ? Alas ! wretch
that I am ! But assuredly they shall not escape my vengeance
if I live ; for this instant ■
Men. Can you not contain yourself? Have you no respect
for yourself? Am I not a sufficient example to you ?
Chrem. For very anger, Menedemus, I am not myself
Men. For you to talk in that manner ! Is it not a shame
for you to be giving advice to others, to show wisdom abroad
and yet be able to do nothing for yourself?
Chrem. What shall I do?
Men. That which you said I failed to do : make him sens-
ible that you are his father; make him venture to intrust
every thing to you, to seek and to ask of you ; so that he may
look for no other resources and forsake you.^
^ Substance to suffice for ten daijs) — Ver. 909. "Familia" here means
" property," as producing sustenance. Cohnan, however, has translated
the passage: "Mine is scarce a ten-days' family."
^ His she friend rather) — Ver. 911. Menedemus speaks of "amico,"
a male friend, which Chremes plays upon by saying "amicaj," which
literally meant a she-friend, and was the usual name by which decent
people called a mistress.
^ And forsake you) — Ver. 924. Madame Dacier observes here, that
one of the gi-eat beauties of this Scene consists in Chremes retorting
on Menedemus the very advice given by himself at the beginning of
the Plav.
188 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; [Act V.
Chrem. Nay, I had much rather he would go any where
in the world, than by his debaucheries here reduce his father
to beggary! For if I go on supplying his extravagance, Men-
edemus, in that case my circumstances will undoubtedly be
soon reduced to the level of your rake.
Men. What evils you will bring upon yourself in this
affair, if you don't act with caution ! You'll show yourself
severe, and still pardon him at last; that too with an ill
grace.
Chrem. Ah ! you don't know how vexed I am.
Men. Just as you please. What about that which I desire
— that she may be married to my son ? Unless there is any
other step that you would prefer.
CiiREM. On the contrary, both the son-in-law and the con-
nection are to my taste.
Men. What portion shall I say that you have named for
your daughter? Why are you silent?
Chrem. Portion?
Men. I say so.
Chrem. Alas!
Men. Chremes, don't be at all afraid to speak, if it is but a
small one. The portion is no consideration at all with us.
Chrem. I did think that two talents were sufficient, accord-
ing to my means. But if you wish me to be saved, and my
estate and my son, you must say to this effect, that I have
settled all my property on her as her portion.
Men. What scheme are you upon ?
Chrem. Pretend that you wonder at this, and at the same
time ask him the reason why I do so.
Men. Why, really, I can't conceive the reason for your
doing so.
Chrem. Why do I do so? To check his feelings, which
are now hurried away by luxury and wantonness, and to
bring him down so as not to know which way to turn him-
self
Men. What is your design ?
Chrem. Let me alone, and give me leave to have my own
way in this matter.
Men. I do give you leave : is this your desire ?
Chrem. It is so.
Men. Then be it so.
1
Sc. II.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 189
Chrem. And now let your son prepare to fetch the bride.
The other one shall be schooled in such language as befits
children. But Syrus
Men. What of him?
Chrem. What % If I live, I will have him so handsomely
dressed, so well combed out, that he shall always remember
me as long as he lives ; to imagine that I'm to be a laugh-
ing-stock and a plaything for him ! So»may the Gods bless
me ! he would not have dared to do to a widow-woman the
things which he has done to me.^ {They go into their respective
houses.)
Scene II.
Enter Menedemus, with Clitipho and Syrus.
Clit. Prithee, is it really the fact, Menedemus, that my fa-
ther can, in so short a space of time, have cast off all the natu-
ral affection of a parent for me ? For what crime ? What
so great enormity have I, to my misfortune, committed?
Young men generally do the same.
■ Men. I am aware that this must be much more harsh and
severe to you, on whom it falls ; but yet I take it no less
amiss than you. How it is so I know not, nor can I account
for it, except that from my heart I wish you well.
Clit. Did not you say that my father was waiting hei'e ?
Enter Chremes from his house.
Men. See, here he is. (Menedemus goes into his house.)
^ Which he has done to me) — Ver. 954. Colman has the following
Note : "The departure of Menedemus here is very abrupt, seeming to
be in the midst of a conversation ; and his re-entrance with Clitipho,
already supposed to be apprised of what has passed between the two
old gentlemen, is equally precipitate. Menage imagines that some
verses are lost here. Madame Dacier strains hard to defend the Poet,
and fills up the void of time by her old expedient of making the
Audience wait to see Chremes walk impatiently to and fro, till a suffi-
cient time is elapsed for Menedemus to have given Clitipho a summary
account of the cause of his father's anger. The truth is, that a too
strict observance of the unity of place will necessarily produce such ab-
surdities ; and there are several other instances of the like nature in
Terence."
190 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; [Act V.
CiiREM. "Why are you blaming me, Clitlplio ? Whatever
I have done in this matter, I had a view to you and your im-
prudence. When I saw that you were of a careless disposi-
tion, and held the pleasures of the moment of the first import-
ance, and did not look forward to the future, I took measures
that you might neither want nor be able to waste this ivhich I
have. When, through your own conduct, it was not allowed
me to give it you, to^whom I ought before all, I had recourse
to those who were your nearest relations; to them I have
made over and intrusted every thing J There you'll always
find a refuge for your folly; food, clothing, and a roof under
which to betake yourself.
Clit. Ah me !
CriREM. It is better than that, you being my heir, Bacchis
should possess this estate of mine.
Syr. (ajiart) I'm ruined irrevocably! — Of what mischief
have I, wretch that I am, unthinkingly been the cause ?
Clit. Would I were dead !
CuREM. Prithee, first learn what it is to live. When you
know that, if life displeases you, then try the other.
Syr. Master, may I be allowed ?
C 11 REM. Say on.
Syr. But may I safely?
Chrem. Say on.
Syr. What injustice or what madness is this, that that in
whicji I have offended, should be to his detriment %
CiiREM. It's all over. 2 Don't you mix yourself up in it;
no one accuses you, Syrus, nor need you look out for an al-
tar,^ or for an intercessor for yourself.
Syr. What is your design ?
CuREM. I am not at all angry either with you {to
Syrus), or with you {to Clitipiio); nor is it fair that you
^ Intrusted every thing) — Ver. 906. This is an early instance of a
trusteeship and a guardianship.
* ICs all over) — Ver. 974. " Ilicct," literally, "you may go away."
This was the formal word with M-^hich funeral ceremonies and trials at
law were concluded.
^ Look out for an altar) — Ver. 975. He alludes to the practice of slaves
taking refuge at altars when they had committed any fault, and then
suing for pardon through a "precator" or "mediator." See the Mos-
tellaria of Plautus, 1. 1074, where Tranio takes refuge at the altar from
the vengeance of his master, Theuropides.
I
I
Sc. IL] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 191
should he so Avith me for what I am doing. (He goes into his
house.)
Syk. He's gone. I wish I had asked him
Cut. What, Syrus?
SvK. Where I am to get my subsistence ; he has so utterly
cast us adrift. You are to have it, for the present, at your
sister's, I find.
Clit. Has it then come to this pass, Syrus — that I am to
be in danger even of starving ?
Syk. So we only live, there's hope
Cut. What hope ?
Syk. That we shall be hungry enough.
Clit. Do you jest in a matter so serious, and not give me
any assistance with your advice "i
Syk. On the contrary, I'm both now thinking of that, and
have been about it all the time your father was speaking just
now ; and so far as I can perceive
Clit. What?
Syk. It will not be wanting long. (He meditates.)
Clit. What is it, then?
Syr. It is this — I think that you are not their so7i.
Clit. How's that, Syrus? Are y5u quite in your senses?
Syk. I'll tell you what's co7ne into my mind; be you the
judge. While they had you alone, while they had no other
source of joy more nearly to affect them, they indulged
you, they lavished upon you. Now a daughter has been
found, a pretense has been found in fact on which to turn you
adrift.
Clit. It's very probable.
Syr. Do you suppose that he is so angry on account of this
fault?
Clit. I do not think so.
Syr. Now consider another thing. All mothers are wont
to be advocates for their sons when in fault, and to aid them
against a father's severity ; 'tis not so /zere.
Clit. You say true ; what then shall I now do, Sy-
rus?
Syr. Question them on this suspicion ; mention the matter
without reserve; either, if it is not true, you'll soon bring
them both to compassion, or else you'll soon find out whose so?i
you are.
192 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; [Act V.
Clit. You give good advice ; I'll do so. (He goes into the
house of Chremes.)
Syr. {to himself.) Most fortunately did this come into my
mind. For the less hope the young man entertains, the
greater the difficulty with which he'll bring his father to his
own terms. I'm not sure even, that he may not take a wife,
and then no thanks for Syrus. But what is this? The old
man's coming out of doors ; I'll be off. What has so far hap-
pened, I am surprised at, that he didn't order me to be carried
oflf from here : now I'll away to Menedemus here, I'll secure
him as my intercessor; I can put no trust in our old man.
{Goes into the house of Menedemus.)
Scene III.
Enter Chremes and Sostrata from the house.
Sos. Really, sir, if you don't take care, you'll be causing
some mischief to your son ; and indeed I do wonder at it, my
husband, how any thing so foolish could ever come into your
head.
Chrem. Oh, you persist in being the woman ? Did I ever
wish for any one thing iVi all my life, Sostrata, but that you
were my contradicter on that occasion ? And yet if I were
now to ask you what it is that I have done amiss, or why you
act thus, you would not know in what point you are now so
obstinately opposing me in your folly.
Sos. I, not know 1
Chrem. Yes, rather, / should have said you do know ; inas-
much as either expression amounts to the same thing. ^
Sos. Alas! you are unreasonable to expect me to be silent
in a matter of such importance.
Chrem. I don't expect it ; talk on then, I shall still do it
not a bit the less.
Sos. Will you do it %
Chrem. Certainly.
Sos. Don't you see how much evil you will be causing by
that course ? — He suspects himself to he a foundling.
* Amounts to the same thing) — Ver. 1010. " Quam quidem vedit ad
integrum eadem oratio ;" meaning, " it amounts to one and the same
thing," or, "it is all the same thing," whether you do or whether you
don't knoAv.
I
Sc. IV.] THE SELF-TORMENTOK. 193
Chrem. Do you say so ?
Sos. Assuredly it will be so.
Chrem. Admit it.
Sos.- Hold now — prithee, let that be for our enemies. Am
I to admit that he is not my son who realhj is ?
Chrem. What ! are you afraid that you can not prove that
he 4s yours, whenever you please ?
Sos. Because my daughter has been found V
Chrem. No ; but for a reason why it should be much soon-
er believed — because he is just like you in disposition, you
will easily prove that he is your child ; for he is exactly like
you ; why, he has not a single vice left him but you have just
the same. Then, besides, no woman could have been the
mother of such a son but yourself But he's coming out of
doors, and how demure ! When you understand the matter,
you may form your own conclusions.
Scene IV.
Enter Clitipho fro?n the house of Chremes.
Clit. If there ever was any time, mother, when I caused
you pleasure, being called your son by your own desire, I be-
seech you to remember it, and now to take compassion on me
in my distress. A thing I beg and request — do discover to
me my parents.
^ Because rmj daughter has been found) — Ver. 1018. This sentence
has given much trouble to the Commentators. Colman has tlie follow-
ing just remarks upon it: <' Madame Dacier, as well as all the rest of
the Commentators, has stuck at these words. Most of them imagine
she means to say, that the discovery of Antiphila is a plain proof tha't
she is not barren. Madame Dacier supposes that she intimates such a
proof to be easy, because Clitipho and Antiphila were extremely alike ;
which sense she thinks immediately confirmed by the answer of Clii'emes.
I can not agree with any of them, and think that the whole difficulty
of the passage here, as in many other places, is entirely of their own
making. Sostrata could not refer to the reply of Chremes, because she
could not possibly tell what it would be ; but her own speech is intend-
ed as an answer to his preceding one, which she takes as a sneer on
her late wonderful discovery of a daughter ; imagining that he means
to insinuate that she could at any time Avitli equal ease make out the
proofs of the birth of her son. The elliptical mode of expression so
usual with Terence, together with the refinements of Commentators,
seem to' have created all the obscurity."
I
194 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; [Act V.
Sos. I conjure you, my son, not to entertain that notion in
your mind, that you are another person's child.
Clit. I am.
Sos. Wretch that I am ! {Turning to Chremes.) ^Vas it
this that you wanted, pray "? {To Clitipho.) So may you be
the survivor of me and of him, you are my son and his ; and
henceforth, if you love me, take care that I never hear that
speech from you again.
Chkem. But I say, if you fear me, take care how I find
these propensities existing in you.
Clit. What propensities ?
Cheem. If you wish to know, I'll tell you; being a trifler,
an idler, a cheat, a glutton, a debauchee, a spendthrift — Be-
lieve me, and believe that you are our son.
Clit. This is not the language of a parent.
Ciirem. If you had been born from my head, Clitipho, just
as they say Minerva was from Jove's, none the more on that
account would I suffer myself to be disgraced by your profli-
gacy.i
Sos. May the Gods forbid it.
Chrem. I don't know as to the Gods \^ so far as I shall be
enabled, / will carefully ^rerewi it. You are seeking that which
you possess — parents ; that which you are in want of you
don't seek — in what way to pay obedience to a fixther, and to
preserve what he acquired by his industry. That you by trick-
ery should bring before my eyes 1 am ashamed to mention
the unseemly word in her presence {pointing to Sostrata), but
you were not in any degree ashamed to act thus.
Clit. {aside.) Alas ! how thoroughly displeased I now am
with myself ! How much ashamed ! nor do I know how to
make a beginning to pacify him.
^ By your profligacy) — Ver. 1036. It is probably this ebullition of
Comic anger which is referred to by Horace, in his Art of Poetry :
"Interdum tamen et rocem Comoedia tollit,
Iratusque Chremes tuniido delitigat ore :"
" Yet sometimes Comedy as well raises her A'oice, and eni'aged Chremes
ccnsnres in swelling phrase."
- / don't know as to the Gods) — Ver. 1037. " Deos nescio." The
Critic Lambinus, in his letter to Charles the Ninth of France, accuses
Terence of impiety in this passage. Madame Dacier has, however, well
observed, that the meaning is not "I care not for the Gods," but "I
know not what the Gods will do."
I
Sc. v.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 195
Scene V.
Enter Menedemus from his house.
Men. (to himself.) Why really, Chremes is treating his
son too harshly and too unkindly. I'm come out, therefore,
to make peac5 between them. Most opportunely I see them
both.
Chrem. Well, Menedemus, why don't you order my daugh-
ter to be sent for, and close with the offer^ of the portion that
I mentioned ?
Sos. My husband, I entreat you not to do it.
Clit. Father, I entreat you to forgive me.
Men. Forgive ftim, Chremes ; do let them prevail upon
you.
Cheem. Am I knowingly to make my property a present
to Bacchis ? I'll not do it.
Men. Why, we would not suffer it.
Clit. If you desire me to live, father, do forgive me.
Sos. Do, my dear Chremes.
Men. Come, Chremes, pray, don't be so obdurate.
Chrem. What am I to do here*? I see I am not allowed
to carry this through, as I had intended.
Men. You are acting as becomes you.
Chrem. On this condition, then, I'll do it ; if he does that
which I think it right he should do.
Clit. Father, I'll do any thing ; command me.
Chrem. You must take a wife. •
Clit. Father
Chrem. I'll hear nothing.
Men. I'll take it upon myself; he shall do so.
Chrem. I don't hear any thing from him as yet.
Clit. {aside.) I'm undone!
Sos. Do you hesitate, Clitipho ?
Chrem. Nay, just as he likes.
Men. He'll do it all.
Sos. This course, while you are making a beginning, is
^ And close with the offer) — Yer. 1048. * ' Firmas." This ratifica-
tion or affirmation would be made by Menedemus using the formal
word "Accipio," "I accept."
196 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS. [Act V., Sc. V.
disagreeable, and while you are unacquainted with it. When
you have become acquainted with it, it will become easy.
Clit. I'll do it, father.
Sos. My son, upon my honor I'll give you that charming
girl, whom you may soon become attached to, the daughter of
our neighbor Phanocrata.
Clit. What I that red-haired girl, with cat's eyes, freckled
face,^ and hooked nose ? I can not, father.
Chrem. Heyday ! how nice he is ! You would fancy he
had set his mind upon it.
Sos. I'll name another.
Clit. Why no — since I must marry, I myself have one that
I should pretty nearly make choice of.
Sos. Now, son, I commend you.
Clit. The daughter of Archonides here.
Sos. I'm quite agreeable.
Clit. Father, this now remains.
Chrem. What is it ?
Clit. I want you to pardon Syrus for what he has done for
my sake.
Chre3I. Be it so. {To the Audience.) Fare you well, and
grant us your applause.
^ Freckled face) — Ver. 1060. Many take "sparse ore" here to mean
" wide-mouthed." Lemonnier thinks that must be the meaning, as he
has analyzed the other features of her countenance. There is, howevei",
no reason why he should not speak of her complexion ; and it seems,
not improbably, to have the same meaning as the phrase ' ' os lentigino-
sum," " a freckled face."
ADELPHI; THE BROTHERS
DKAMATIS PERSONS.
' {- Brothers, ajrcd Athenians.
Micio,= ) ' °
Hegio,^ an aged Athenian, kinsman of Sostrata,
JEscHiNus,* son of Demea, adopted by Micio.
Ctesipho,^ anotlier son of Demea.
Sannio, ^ a Procurer.
Geta/ servant of Sostrata.
Parmeno,^ \
Syrus,^ >■ servants of Micio.
Dromo,^" )
Pamphila/' a young woman beloved by JEsehinus.
Sostrata/2 ^ widow, mother pf Pamphila.
Canthara,'^ a Nurse.
A Music-girl.
Scene. — Athens ; before the houses of Micio and Sostrata.
^ From drjjubg, " the people."
^ From MiKidv, a Greek proper name.
^ From i/yeladai, " to lead," or " take charge of."
* From ataxog, "disgrace."
^ From KTrjalc, " a patrimony," and ^iwf, "light."
^ From aavvoc, " foolish."
' One of the nation of the Getse.
^ See the Dramatis PersonjB of the Eunuchus.
^ From Syria, his native country.
^° See the Dramatis Personae of the Andria.
" See the Dramatis Personce of the Eunuclius.
^' See the Dramatis Personse of the Heautontimorumenos.
^^ From tcavdapoc, " a cup."
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,
JEschinvTs, has been adopted by Micio. Being allowed by his indid-
gent uncle to gratify his inclinations without restraint, ^schinus has
debauched Pamphila, the daughter of a widow named Sostrata. Hav-
ing, however, promised to marry the young woman, he has been par-
doned 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, -S^schinus 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 iEschinus ; and at the same time lauds the steady conduct and
frugality of Ctesipho, who has been brought up under his own super-
-— vision. 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 ^schinus 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 ^Qjaclii^^^
of -^schinus toward Pamphila. Wishing to find his brother, lieiTpui^^^^
posely 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 JEschinus toward Pam-
phila are not changed, accompanies him to the house of Sostrata,
whom he consoles by his promise that ^schinus shall many her j
daughter. Demea then returns from his search, and, rushing into I
Micio's house, finds his son Ctesipho there carousing ; on which he 1
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 iEschinus, 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 ^^2milius Paulus,'
which were celebrated by Q. Fabius Maximus and F. Cor-
nelius Africanus. L. Atilius Prasnestinus and Minutius
Prothimus performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of Clau-
dius, composed the music for Sarranian flutes.^ Taken
from the Greek of Menander, L. Anicius and M. Cornelius
being Consuls.^
' Of jEmilius Paulus) This Play (from the Greek 'A(5e/„0o^, "The
Brothers") was performed at the Funeral Games of Lucius ^m'ilius
Paulus, who was surnaraed Macedonicus, fi-om 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 Avere not, as some have thought, the Curule JSdiles, but
two sons of JEmilius Paulus, who had taken the surnames of the fami-
lies into which they had been adopted.
" Sarranian flutes) The "Sarranian" or "Tyrian" pipes, or flutes,
are supposed to have been of a quick and mirthful tone; Madame Da-
cier has consequently with much justice suggested that the representa-
tion being on the occasion of a funeral, the title has not come down to
us ill 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 per-
formed to the music of Lydian flutes.
3 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.
ADELPHI; THE BROTHERS.
THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINAEIS.
As Demea has two sons, young men, he gives JEschinus 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 ^schinus 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 JEschinus 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 ; afterv.o- d, how-
ever, when the truth is discovered, ^schinus marries the girl who has
been debauched ; and, his harsh father Demea now i ^.Ttened, 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 dis-
credit. The Synapothnescontes^ is a Comedy of Diphilus ;2
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 Plau-
tus 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 v/hich has been passed over in
^ 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.
= Of Diphilus) — Ver. 6. Diphilus was a Greek Poet, contemporary
with Menander.
Act. I., Sc. L] ADELPHI ; THE BROTHERS. 201
neglect. For as to what these malevolent persons say, that
men of noble rank assist him, and are always writing in con-
junction 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,^ each one has availed him-
self of, on his own occasion, without any haughtiness on
their part. Now then, do not expect the plot of the Play ;
the old men^ who come first Avill 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 FIEST.
Scene. I.
Enter Micio, calling to a servant ivithin.
Mic. Storax ! ^schinus has not returned home from the
entertainment last night, nor any of the servants who went
to fetch him.3 {To himself.) Keally, 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 inclina-
tion, 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
' In war, in peace, in private business) — Ver. 20. According to Doiia-
tus, 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 Lrelius, who was famed for his wisdom.
'^ The old men) — Ver. 23. This is similar to the words in the Pro-
lojiue to the Trinummus of Plautus, 1. 16: "But expect nothing about
tlie plot of this Play; the old men who will come hither will disclose
the matter to you."
^ To/etch him) — Ver. 24. " Advorsum ierant." On the duties of the
" adversitores," see the Notes to Bohn's Translation of Plautus.
I 2
202 ADELPHI; [Act I.
taken cold,^ 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. Pie 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.
Pie 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, P take all due care that he may hold me
equally dear. P give — I overlook ; I do not judge it neces-
sary 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. Pie often comes to me exclaiming,
"What are you about, Micio ? Why do you ruin for us
this youth? Why does he intrigue? AVhy 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." Pie 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 afi'ection. Such is my mode of reason-
* Either have taken cold) — Ver. 3G. Westerhovius observes that this
passage seems to be taken from one in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus,
1. 721, et seq. : "Troth, if I had had them, enongh 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 oc-
casion." It may be remarked that there is a great resemblance between
the characters of Micio here and Periplecomenus in the Miles Gloriosus.
Sc. II.] THE BROTHERS. 203
irig ; 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 hope» that it will be concealed,
he again returns to his natural bent. He whom you have se-
cured by kindness, acts from inclination ; he is anxious to re-
turn like for like ; present and absent, he will be the same.
This is the duty of a parent, to accustom a son to do wdiat 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 speak-
ing? 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. Deniea,
I am glad to see you well.^
Scene II.
Enter Demea.
Dem. Oh, — opportunely met ; you are the very man I was
looking for.2
Mic. Why are you out of spirits ?
Dem. Do you ask me, when we have such a son as JEsi^i-
nus,3 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? lie, who is ashamed of
nothing, and fears no one, nor thinks that any law can con-
trol 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,^ and forced his way
^ To see you well) — Ver. 81. Cooke remarks, that though there are
several fine passages in this speech, and good obser\^ations on human
life, yet it is too long a soliloquy.
^ I was looking fo?-) — 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.
^ Such a son as yEsckinus) — Ver. 82. The passage pretty clearly
means by "ubi nobis ^schinus sit," "when I've got such a son as
^Eschinus." Madame Dacier, however, would translate it: "Ask me
— you, in whose house ^schinus is?" thus accusing him of harboring
^schinus ; a very forced construction, however.
* Broken open a door) — Ver. 88. The works of Ovid and Plautus show
204 ADELPHI; [Act I.
into another person's house, jbeaten to death the master him-
self, and all tlie household, and carried oiF a wench whomThe"
"liad 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. AVhat 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
sa$ne. 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 v/ishing 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, arc 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 oiFends in any thing, Demea, he offends
against me : in that case I shall bear the greater part of the
inconvenience. Does he feast, ^ does he drink, does he smell
that it was no uncommon thing for riotous young men to break o; en
doors ; Ovid even suggests to the lover the expediency of getting into
the house througli the windows.
^ Does lie 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 Cotnic Poet,
Caicilius. Both writers are quoted in the Oration for Ca^l»us, in the
Sc. II.] THE BROTHERS. 205
of perfumes,^ — it is at my cost. Does ho intrigue, money-
shall be found by me, so long as it suits me ; Avhen it shall
be no longer convenient, probably he'll be shut out of doors.'-
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 naturcj 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 m?/ 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 in-
trusted to me.
Dem. Alas, Micio !
Mic So it seems to me.
Dem. What am I to say to this? If it pleases you, hence-
forth— let him spend, squander, and destroy; it's nothing to
me. If / 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
composition of which it is plain that the orator kept his eye pretty
closely on our Poet. The passages from Ceecilius contain all that ve-
hemence and severity which, as Horace tells us, was accounted the
common character of the style of that author."
^ Smell of perfumes) — Ver. 117. For an account of the "nnguenta,"
or perfumes in use among the ancients, see the Notes to Bohn's Trans-
lation of Plautus.
^ Will he 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.
206 ADELPHI; [Act 11.
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 da : I don't wish to say any thing more
harsh against him. {Exit.
Scene III.
Micio alone.
Mic. These things are^ 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 Jiim ; ami 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
iEschinus has done me some injustice in this affair. AVhat
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,^ I suppose he was just
then tired of them all. I was in hopes that the warmt!i
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 ^schinus and Parmeno with the Music-girl,
followed hy Sannio and a croivd of people.
San. I beseech you, fellow-citizens, do give aid to a miser-
able and innocent man ; do assist the distressed.
^ These things are) — Ver. 141. Donatns observes here, that Terence
seems inclined to favor the part of mild fathers. He rcin-esents Micio
as appalled at his adopted son's irrej^ularities, 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.
^ 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 ])resent instance,
Sc. lO THE BROTHERS. 207
^SCH. {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.
^SCH. Though he is a villain, he'll not risk, to-day, get-
ting a second beating.
San. Hear me, ^schinus, that you may not say that you
were in ignorance of my calling; I am a Procurer.^
JEscii. 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.
^SCH. {to Parmeno.) Go first with all dispatch and open
the door. (Parmeno 02')ens the door.)
San. But you will avail nothing by this.
iEscii. {To the Girl.) Now then, step in.
San. {coming between.) But I'll not let her.
^scii. 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.
^SCH. {to Parmeno.) Now then, observe me.
Par. {to Sannio.) Let go the woman. {Strikes him.)
San. Oh ! scandalous deed !
where we understand that ^schinus has mentioned to Micio his inten-
tion of taking; a wife, though lie has not entered into particulars. This
naturally leads us to the ensuing parts of tlie Play, without forestalling
any of the circumstances.
^ ^ / am a Procurer) — Ver. 161. He says this aloud, and with "empha-
sis, 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.
208 ADELPHI; [Act II.
^scii. He shall repeat it, if you don't take care. (Par-
MENO Strikes him again.)
San. Oh shocking !
^SCH. {to Parmeno.) I didn't give the sign ; but still make
your mistakes on that side in preference. Now then, go.
(Parmeno goes ivith the Music-gikl into Micio's house.)
San. What is the meaning of this? Have you the sway
here, ^schinus?
^SCH. If I had it, you should be exalted for your deserts.
San. What business have you with me %
^]scn. None.
San. Plow then, do you know who X am ?
-<3i^scii. I don't want to.
San. Have I touched any thing of yours?
-^SCH. If you had touched it, you'd have got a drubbing.
San. What greater right then have you to take vi\j property.,
for which I paid my money % Answer me that.
^SCH. It were better for you not to be making a disturb-
ance here before the house; for if you persist in being imper-
tinent, you shall be dragged in at once, and there you shall
be lashed to death with whips.
San. a free man, with whips ?
^SCH. So it shall be.
San. Oh, you shameless fellow ! Is this the place where
they say there is equal liberty for all ?
^scii. 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
mel
^SCH. Leave alone all that, and come to the point.
San. What point % Where am I to come to ?
^SCH. 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.
^scii. Very fine ! a Procurer wishing me not to say what's
unfair.
San. I am a Procurer,^ I confess it — the common bane of
youth — a perjurer, a ipuhlic nuisance; still, no injury has be-
fallen you from me.
^ / am a Procurer) — Ver. 1 88, Westerliovi-iis supposes this part to be
a translation from the works of Diphilus.
Sc. II.] THE BIIOTHERS. 209
^scii. Why, faith, that remains to come-
San. Pray, ^schinus, do come back to the point at which
you set out.
^scii. You bought her for twenty minoe ; 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 % AVill you
compel me ^
JEscH. By no means.
San. I was afraid you would.
iEscii. Neither do I think that a woman can be sold who
is free; for I claim her by action of freedom. ^ Now consider
which you choose ; take the money, or prepare yourself for
the action. Think of it, Procurer, till I return. ^ {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 ivell 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.3 As to getting the money, it's all a dream. Call
again by and by ; come back to-morrow. I could bear with
^ By action of freedoin) — Ver. 194r. "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."
^ Till I return) — Ver. 196. Colman has a curious remark here : "I
do not remember, in the whole circle of modern comedy, a moi*e natural
picture of the elegant ease and indifference of a fine gentleman, than
that exhibited in this Scene in the character of ^schinus."
' That I have sold her) — Yer. 204. He means, that if he only names
210 ADELPHI; [Act II.
that too, hard as it is, if lie would only pay it. But I con-
sider this to be the fact ; when you take up this trade, you
must brook and bear in silence the affronts of these young fel-
lows. 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. {peaking to -^schinus ivithin.) Say no more ; I my-
self will arrange with him ; I'll make him glad to take the
money at once, and say besides that he has l)een fairly dealt
with. {Addressing Sannio.) Sannio, how is this, that I hear
you have been having some dispute or other with my mas-
ter?
San. I never saw a dispute on more unequal terms^ 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 af-
forded 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'^ of your right, and had hu-
mored the young man, that he would not repay you with in-
terest %
a price, ^schinus will suborn witnesses to say that he has agreed to
sell her, in which case -^schinus will carry her off with impunity, and
the laws will not allow him to recover her ; as it will then be an ordina-
ry debt, and he will be put off with all the common excuses used by
debtors.
^ On more unequal terms) — Ver. 212, " Certationcm 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.
" If you had parted with ever so little) — Ver. 217. This passage is
probably alluded to by Cicero, in his work, De Oificiis, 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."
So. III.] THE BROTHERS. 211
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 mina3
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 2^ iooi 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.^ Several women have
been purchased, and other things as well, for me to take
to Cyprus.2 If I don't get there to the fair, my loss will be
very great. Then if I postpone this business, and settle it
jvhen I come back from there, it will be of no use ; the matter
will be quite forgotten. '' Come at last?" theijllsay. "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^ up what you calculate
will be your profits ?
^ In the very joint) — Ver. 229. "Ut in ipso articulo oppressit." Col-
man translates this, "Nick'd me to a hair."
^ To take to Ci/prus) — 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.
^ Have you hy this reckoned) — Ver. 236. " Jamne enumerasti id quod
ad te rediturum putes ?" Colman renders this, "Well, have you calcu-
lated what's your due?" referring to the value of the Music-girl that
has been taken away from him ; and thinks that the following conver-
sation between Sannio and Syrus supports that construction. Madame
Dacier puts another sense on the words, and understands them as al-
luding to Sannip's calculation of his expected profits at Cyprus.
212 ADELPHI; [Act II.
San. Is this honorable of him? Ought -ZEschinus to at-
tempt this? Ought he to endeavor to take her away from
me by downright violence ?
Syr. (aside.) He gives ground. (To Sannio.) I have this
ouQ 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 mina3^
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 cuiFs ; and would he defraud me as well ? I shall go
nowhere.
Syr. Just as you please. Plave 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. l^ut I see Ctesipho ; he's in
high spirits about his mistress.
San. What about what I was asking you ? ^
Syr. Stay a little.
Scene IY.
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 ac-
ceptable, 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
^ Scrape together ten minai) — Ver. 2-t2. Donatus remarks, that Syrus
knows very well that ^schinus 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.
Sc. v.] THE BKOTHERS. 213
others, a brother than whom no individual is more highly en-
dowed with the highest qualities.
Syr. O Ctesipho!
Ctes. O Syrus, where is JEschinus ?
Syk. 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 uEscMnus himself coming out.
Scene V.
Enter ^schinus, from the house of Micio.
-^SCH. Where is that villain ?
San. (aside.) He's looking for me.^ Is he bringing any
thing with him ? Confusion ! I don't see any thing.
^SCH. {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 jEschinus ! 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.
^SCH. 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.
^ He's looking for me) — Ver. 265. Donatus remarks upon the readi-
ness with which Sannio takes the appellation of " sacrilegus," as adapt-
ed to no other person than himself.
214 ADELPHI; [Act IL, So. V.
^SCH. Pooh ! that is folly, not shame ; about such a tri-
fling matter to he ?lmosi flying the country I^ 'Tis shocking
to be mentioned ; I pray the Gods may forbid it !
Ctes. I did wrong.
^scn. {in a lower voice.) What says Sannio to us at last 1
Syr. He is pacified at last.
JEscH. I'll go to the Forum to pay him off; you, Ctesipho,
ste}-) in-doors to her.
San. {aside to Syrus.) Syrus, do urge the 7nattei\
Syr. (to ^SCHINUS.) Let us be off, for he is in haste foz*
Cyprus.2
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.) Fray do discharge that most abominable fel-
low 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 order the couches^ 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 pro-
visions.
Ctes. Fray do so. Since this has turned out so well, let us
^ 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 ; Avhich gives another proof of the
manner in which Terence used the Greek Comedies."
2 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.
3 Order the coiiches) — Ver. 285. Those used for the purpose of reclin-
ing; on at the entertainment.
Act III., Sc. IL] THE BROTHERS. 215
make a cheerful day of it. (Ctesipho goes into the house of
Micio ; and exeunt .^schinus and Syrus, followed hy San-
NIO.)
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
^mirself. ^
^Sos. Unfortunate woman that I am ! I have not a person
at home; we are quite alone ; Geta too is absent. I.haye no
^nejo go for the midwife, or to fetch ^schinus.
Can. r 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 wa^offered her j^ so far as he is concerned, it is most
luckyy— 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 miscEierihat lias 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
216 ADELPHI; [Act III.
extricate ourselves. Violence, poverty, oppression, desertion,
infamy ! What an age is this ! O shocking villainy! O ac-
cursed race ! O impious man !
Sos. Unhappy me! How is it that I see Geta hurrying
along thus terrified ?
Geta {continuing.) Whom neither promises^jior 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 Caktiiaka.) 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 mas-
ter of my senses, 1 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. 1 could
be content with any punishment, so I might only wreak my
vengeance on them. First, I would stop the breatli of the
old fellow himself who gave being to this monster; then as
for his prompter, Syrus, out upon him ]_Jiaw 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 Cantiiara.) Let us call him back. Geta
■^^<^ GETA.-.JWell— -leave me alone, ^ whoever you are.
\ Sos. 'Tis I,— BostmtaT"
Geta {turning round.) Why, where are youl 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 ?
^ Leave me alone) — Ver. 321. Quoting from Madame Daciei", Colmaii
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."
Sc. II.] THE BROTHERS. 217
Geta. Alas! alas!
Sos. My dea?' Geta, why in such haste ? D^J-ake-bteatli;
Geta. Quite (pauses.)
Sos. Whj) what means-thia^liquitfi!' 1
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. ^schinus
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 car-
ried her off openly from a procurer.
Sos. Are you quite sure of this 1
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 ^schinus, 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"^Uuld"place the infant on hisHTather's
knees, ^ and thus entreat that he might be allowed^ to~make
lier his wife !
Geta. Dear mistress, forbear weeping, and rather consider
what mustjbe, 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- sceH*^«4o.ypu a business to be mad£ known to any
one 1 " ""' "'^ ™ ""^' '"''^
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 the?i be in danger. On the other hand, if he were fully
to confess it, as he is in love with another woman, it would
^ On his father's knees) — Ver. 333. It was a prevalent custom witli
the Greeks to place the newly-born child upon the knee of its grand-
father.
K
218 ADELPHI; [Act III.
not be to her advantage to be given to him. Therefore, un-
der 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 con-
scious that no blame attaches to me, and thatlv5itKer~iiiterGst
nor any consideration unworthy of hef'OT'^fmyseirTias liad a
share in this matter, I will make trial — ~^^ — —-
Geta. What am I to say to tliis ? I agree, as you speak
for the best.
Sos. You be off as fast as possible, and relate all the mat-
ter just as it has happened to her kinsman Hegio ; for he was
the best friend of our lamented Simulus, and has shown espe-
cial 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 ^schinus at the carrying off of this girl. This, sor-
Yoyv^ still remains for unhappy WlQ, should j^scJmiusJ^ able
\j/ to seduce him, even him, who promises so fair, toa course
of debauchery. Where am I to inquire for him ? "X 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
I
Sc.IV.] THE BROTHERS. 219
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 asTFtappened; T nBver~T}iTt~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 thisjproject, he gave thanks ~~"
iymi[r{apart.) I shairbui^t aiun"3ei%
Syr. {continuing.) He told down the money ,.ijastanlly, and
gave me half a mina besides T6'"spendr That was laid out
quite to my liking.
Dem. {apart.) Very fine — if you would wish_a^lmiigJo_be
nicely maTiaged,iiitrustrrTo "'this jTe^/oIi^
Syr. {overhearing him.) Ha, Deme'aTT" 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 dis-
guise, aliogWi£f~v^^v^r'^X^^^^^"^i ^^^ (^^or o/Micio's house.)
Dromo, clean the rest of the fish ; let the largest conger-eel
play a little in the water; when I come hack it shall be
l3oned ;i not before.
Dem. Is profligacy like this
Syr. As for myself, it istt'4 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 lie doing this for
any purpose of his own, or does he think it creditable to ruin
..'/wTsont-^'Wretch that 1 am! methinks I already see the day
when jEschinus will be running away for want, to serve some-
where or other as a soldier.'-
^ It shall he honed) — 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.
= Serve somewhere or other as a soldier) — "Ver. .385- See a similar pas-
sage in the Trinummus of Plautus, 1. 722, whence it appears that it
220 ADELPHI; [Act IIL
Syr. O Demea ! that is wisdom indeed, — not only to look
flt 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 in-
dulgence.
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. Ntied I be told by you of your foresight?
Dem. I pray he may only continue the same he is at pres-
ent!
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 atr the iaFHiJxjn^J>e-
fore 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
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.
Sc. IV.] THE BROTHERS. 221
as tlie money was being counted out, the gentleman came
upon us by chance, and began exclaiming, " Oh JEschinus,
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.)
Syk. {aside.) Heyday!
Dem. Syrus, he is full of these maxims.
Syk. {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, / 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,^ 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 ? Ac-
^ As though into a mirror) — Ver. 428. He parodies the words of
Demea in 1. 415, where he speaks of looking into the lives of men as
into a mirror.
222 ADELPHI; [Act III.
cording as the man is, so must you humor him. Do you wish
any thing else ?
Dem. That more wisdom may be granted you.
Syk. You will be going off into the country, / sup-
pose f
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.)
ScENi: V.
Demea, alone.
Dem. {to himself.) I certainly will be off, as lie 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 whois it I.see yonder at a distarice't TsTrt'TTlIegio of
our tribe ^^ If I see right, i' faith, it is he. Ah, a man I
have been friendly with from a child ! Good Godsj^ yyo, cer-
tainly have a great dearth of citizens of tlmt stamj) nowa-
days, 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.
1 Of our tribe) — Ver. 439. Solon divided the Athenians into ten
tribes, which he named after ten of the ancient heroes: Erectheis,
JEgeis, Pandionis, Leontis, Acamantis, CEneis, Cecrops, Hippothoontis,
-Mantis, and Antiochis. These tribes were each divided into ten
Demi.
Sc. VL] THE BROTHERS. 223
Heg. That so ignoble a deed should come from that family !
Oh ^schinus, assuredly you_ haven't taken after ^our jfather
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, Heglo, 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 that, with due regard to tlie ties of relation-
ship, I could.
Dem. {apart.) I'll accost him. (^j7pw<cA(?s Hegio.) Hegio,
I bid you welcome right heartily.
Heg. (starting.) Oh ! you are the very man I was looking
for. Greetings to you, Demea.
Dem. Why, what's the matter?
Heg. Your eldest son ^schinus, whom you gave to your
brother to adopt, has been acting the part of neither an hon-
est 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. AYorse, by far : for this indeed might in some meas-
ure 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.^ The affair
was pardoned, hushed up, his word taken. The girl from
that intercourse became pregnant : this is the tenth month.
^ Would taJce her home) — Ver. 473. As his wife.
224 ADELPHI; [Act III.
He, worthy fellow, has provided himself, if it please the Gods,
with a Music-girl to live with ; the other he has cast oiF.
Dem. Do you say this for certain 1
Heg. The mother of the young woman is among us,^ the
young woman too ; the fact speaks for itself; this Geta, be-
sides, 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,^ examine him upon the
matter.
Geta. Aye, faith, put me to the torture, Demea, if such is
not the i'xoX, : 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. (nying out ivithin the house o/Sostrata.) Ah ir^c! I
am racked with pains! Juno Lucina,^ bring aid, savo me, I
beseech thee !
Heg. Hold; is she in labor, pray?
Geta. No do?abt of it, Hegio.
Heg. Ah ! she is now imploring your protection, Demca ;
let her obtain from you spontaneously what the power, o/J/V
law compels you to give. I do entreat the Gods that what
befits you may at on^je be done. But if your sentiments are
otherwise, Demea, I will defend both them and him who is
dead to the utmost of rny power. He was my kinsman -^ we
were brought up together from children, we were companions
in the wars and at home, together we experienced the hard-
ships 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 yoa give me ?
Dem. I'll go find my brother, Hegio : the advice he gives
me upon this matter I'll follow.^
^ Is among vs) — Vcr. 470. " In medio," "is alive," or "in the midst
of us."
2 Take him, bind him) — Ver. 482. In allusion to the method cf ex-
amining slaves, by binding and torturing them.
3 Juno Lucina) — Ver. 487. So in the Andria, 1. 473, where Glycerium
is overtaken with the pains of labor, she calls upon Juno Lucina.
* He was my kinsman) — Ver. 494. In the Pilay of Menander, Hegio
was the brother of Sostrata.
^ Upon this matter Tllfolloiv) — Ver. 500. ''Is, quod mihi de hac re
dederat consilium, id sequar." Colinan has the f;)riOwing Note on
Sc. VII.] THE BROTHERS. 225
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 ;^ 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. {Ea:it.
Scene VII.
Enter Hegio, from Sostrata's house, and speaking to her
within.
Heg. Be of good heart,^ Sostrata, and take care and con-
sole 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 hy 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.
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 anther
to use the same expression or verse for different places, especially on
familiar occasions. There is no impropriety in it here, and the fore-
going hemistich is rather lame without it. The propriety of consulting
Micio, or Demca'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 h©
would consult his brother."
^ Co hack now) — Ver. 506. " Redite." Demea most probably uses
tliis word, because Hegio has come back to him to repeat the last words
for the sake of greater emphasis.
^ Be of good heart) — Ver. 512. Colmanhas the following Note here:
"Donatus tells us, that in some old copies this whole Scene was want-
ing. Guyetus therefore entirely rejects it. I have not ventured to take
that libertv ; but must confess that it appears to me, if not supposititious,
K2
226 ADELPHI; [Act IV.
ACT THE FOURTH.
Scene I.
Enter Ctesipho and Syrus /ro??i the house o/Micio.
Ctes. My father gone into the country, say you %
Syk. {with a careless air.) Some time since.
Ctes. Do tell me, I beseech you.
Syr. He is at the farm at this very moment,^ 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,^ if pos-
sible.
Ctes. Just so ; for I do most confoundedly wish to pass
this whole day in merry-making as 1 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 over-
take 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^ — have you no client, friend, or
guest %
at least cold and superfluous, and the substance of it had better been
supposed to have passed between Hegio and Sostrata within."
^ At this very moment) — Ver. 519. It is very doubtful whether the
words " cum maxime" mean to signify exactly "at this moment," of
are intended to signify the intensity with which Demea is laboring.
2 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."
^ So viucli the worse) — Ver. 529. Schmieder observes that " tanto
Sc. I.] THE BROTHERS. 227
Ctes. I have ; what then ?
Syr. You liave 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 tlic
most violently; 1 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. AVhat, mine?
Syr. Yours ; immediately the tears fall from him as from a
child, for fe?'?/ joy. {Starting.) Hah! take care
Ctes. Why, what's the matter?
Syr. The wolf in the fable^
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.
nequior" miglit have two meanings, — "so much the -worse yb?- ?«," or,
as the spectators might understand it, "so much the more worthless
you."
^ 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 pei'son 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 ^sop's,
of the Wolf, the Fox, and the Ape : which is translated by Phredrus,
and is the tenth of his First Book." It is much more certain that
Cooke is mistaken here, and that the fable of the ar1)itration 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 appear-
ance, but is disappointed in his expectations, or else that of the Shep-
herd-boy and the Wolf. See the Stichus of Plautus, 1. 57, where the
same expression occurs.
228 ADELPHI; [Act IV.
Ctes. If he makes any inquiries, you have seen me no-
where ; 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^
from the farm ; he says that my son is not in the country,
and Avhat 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 sud-
denly 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
^ Met a day-laborer) — Ver. 542. Donatus remarks that the Poet art-
fully contrives to detain Demea in town, his presence being necessary
in the latter part of the l*lay.
Sc. n.J THE BROTHERS. 229
with her in some cupboard' — that's the safest. {Goes into the
house.)
Syk. {apart.) Do so, still I'll get rid of him.
Dem. {seeing Sykus.) 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 ho mean?
How say you, good sir, is my brother at home 1
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 "l 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 p)oint
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 mad-
man ; 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. ^2\vas 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 ?
^ 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 micrht not be discovered.
230 ADELPHI; [Act IV.
Syr. He is not.
Dem. I'm thinking where to look for him.
Syk. I know where he is — but I shall not tell you at present.
Dem. Ha ! what's that you say ?
Syk. / 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 if?
Syr. Go straight along, right up that street; when you
come there, there is a descent right opposite that goes down-
ward, go straight down that ; afterward, on this side {extend-
ing 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. r faith, that's true ; dear, dear, would you take me
to be in my senses?^ I made a mistake. Return to the por-
tico ; 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;^ when you come to the Temple of
Diana, turn to the right ; before you come to the city gate, '
just by that pond, there is a baker's shop, and opposite to it
a joiner's ; there he is.
^ Take me to he in my senses) — Ver. 580. " Censeu hominem inc
esse?" literally, "Do you take me to be a human being?" meaning,
"Do you take mc to be a person in my common senses?"
2 Street on the left hand) — Vcr. 583. Theobald, in his edition of
Shakspeare, observes that the direction given by Lancelot in the Mer-
chant 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 turn-
ing of all on your left ; marry, at the very next turning of no hand, but
turn down indirectly to the Jew's house."
^ Come to the city gate) — Ver. 584. From this we discover that Dc-
mea is being sent to the vei-y extremity of the town, as Donatus informs
So. III.] THE BROTHERS. 231
Dem. What is he doing there ?
Syr. He has given some couches to be made, with oaken
legs, for use in the open air J
Dem. For you to carouse upon ! Very fine ! But why do
I delay going to liini ? {Exit.
Scene III.
Syrus alone.
Syr. Go, by all means. I'll work you to day, you skele-
ton,2 as you deserve. Ji^^schinus loiters intolerably ; the break-
fast's spoiling; and as for Ctesipho, he's head and ears in
love.3 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,*
I'll lengthen out the day. {Goes into the house.)
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 sup])ly at
hand in case the enemy should set fire to the city gates.
^ Tlie open air) — Ver. 58G. Donatus remarks that it was usual ibr
the Greeks to sit and drink in the sun ; and that Syrus being sudden-
ly asked this question shows his presence of m.ind by giving this cir-
cumstantial answer, that he may the better impose upon Demea. The
•couches used on such occasions maybe 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.
■■* You skeleton) — Ver. 588. " Silicernium." This was said to be the
name of a funeral entertainment or dish of meats offered up to the
"umbra;" or "manes," in silence. The word is also said to have been
applied to an old man from his stooping postures, "silices ccrnit," " he
looks at the stones."
2 Head and ears in love) — Ver. 590. "Totus," literally, "quite" or
" altogether."
* Sipping my ajps) — 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 cai-ousal 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.
232 ADELPHI; [Act IV
Scene IV.
Enter Micio and Hegio.
IMic 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 pur-
posely done them if you expostulate about any thing they
have done ; and yet are themselves the first to accuse. Be-
cause 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 7'ejieat to he?-
the same ; what you have told me, do you yourself tell the
woman, that this suspicion of jEschinus'' 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 do-
ing 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 af-
fliction, 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 witli kindness ; all who are in distressed
circumstances are suspicious,^ 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 o/.Sostrata.)
Scene V.
Enter ^scniNUS.
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
' Are suspicious) — Ver. 606. These lines are supposed to be founded
on some verses of Menander which are still extant.
1
Sc. VT.] THE BROTHERS. 233
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 with-
out 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, ^lilschinus," cries
she ; " you have deceived us long enough ; already have your
promises disappointed us sufficiently." " Pla !" 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 lAj brother, a thing that ought by no means to be re-
peated 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 /or
Jier ; 'twas my own house she was carried to. This I con-
fess 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,
-ZEschinus. 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 dooi\ {Knocking and
calling to them within.) Ho there, ho there! it is ^schinus;
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.,
234 ADELPHI; [Act IV.
Sostrata ; I'll go find ^^schinus, that he may know how these
matters have been settled. {Looking round.) But who M-as it
knocking at the door ?
JEscn. {cqicirt.) Heavens, it is my father I — I am undone !
Mic. iEschinus!
JEscii. {aside.) What can be his business here?
Mic.. Was it you knocking at this door? {Aside.) Pie 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
JEscniNUS.) Don't you answer me %
iEsCH. {confused/?/.) It wasn't I hnocled at that door, that
I know of.
JMic. Just so; for I wondered what business you could
have here. {Apart.) He blushes ; all's Avell.
JEscii. Pray tell me, father, what business have you
there ?
Mic. Why, none of my own ; hut a certain friend of mine
just now brought me hither from the Forum to give hfin some
assistance.
^scii. 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.
iEscH. Well, what next?
Mic. There is a girl living with her mother.
iEscii. 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.^
^scii. {aside.) Undone !
Mic. What's the matter?
^SCH. Nothing. Very well : proceed.
Mic. He has come to take her with him ; for he lives at
Miletus.
^ Obliges Mm to mai-j-y Iter) — Vcr. 655. It appears to have been a
law given by Solon to the Athenians that the next male relative of suit-
able age should marry a female orphan himself, or find her a suitable
portion. Madame Dacier suggests that the custom was derived from
the Phoenicians, 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.
J
Sc. VI.] THE BROTHERS. 235
^SCH. What! To take the girl away with him?
Mic. Such is the fact.
JEscH. All the way to Miletus, pray ?^
Mic. Yes.
^SCH. {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 slic
ought not to be given to the other.
^scn. Well noAv, does not this seem just to you after all?
Mic. No.
^scH. Why not, pray? Is the other to be carrying her
away from here ?
Mic. AVhy should he not take her ?
JEscii. You have acted harshly and unfeelingly, and even,
if, father, I may speak my sentiments more plainly, unhand-
somely.
Mic. Why so ?
tEscii. 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 dis-
traction, when he sees her torn away from before his face, and
borne off from his sight forever ? An unworthy action, fa-
ther!
Mic. On what grounds is it so? AVho betrothed her?^
Who gave her away ? When and to whom was she married ?
Who was the author of all this ? Why did he connect him-
self with a woman who belonged to another ?
.^SCH. 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.
^ To Miletus, praj ?) — Ver. 658. A colony of Athens, on the coast
of Asia Minor.
2 Who betrothed her ?) — Ver. G73. Donatus observes that these ques-
tions, which enumerate all the proofs requisite for a marriage, are an
indirect and very delicate reproof of ^schinus for the irregular and
clandestine nature of his proceedings.
23G ADELPHI; [^Act IV.
Mic. Eidiculous! Was I to have pleaded against liim
whom I was to support 1 But what's all this, ^^schinus, to
US'? What have we to do with them'? Let us begone :
What's the matter? Why these tears'?
jEsch. {weeping.) Father, I beseech you, listen to me.
Mic. ^schinus, I have heard and know it all ; for I love
you, and therefore every thing you do is the more a care to
me.
^lilscH. 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 m.y word 1 believe it, for I know 'your in-
genuous disposition : but I am afraid that you are too incon-
siderate. 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 exer-
tions of your own ? I would not have you to be equally neg-
ligent in other affairs. Be of good heart, you shall have her
for your wife.
JEsch. Plah!
Mic. Be of good heart, I tell you.
^scii. Father, are you now jesting with me, pray 7
Mic. I, jesting with you ! For what reason ?
-^SCH. 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.
^SCH. What ! have my wife now %
i
Sc. VII.] THE BROTHERS. 237
Mic. Now.
^scii. Now?
Mic. Now, as soon as possible.
iEscii. May all the Gods detest me, father, if I do not love
you better than even my very eyes !
Mic. What! better than her?
-3^scii. Quite as well.
Mic. Very kind of you !
-^sciT. Well, where is this Milesian %
Mic. Departed, vanished, gone on board ship ; but why do
you delay?
JEscn. Father, do you rather go and pray to the Gods ; for
I know, for certain, that they will rather be propitious to you,i
as being a much better man than I am.
Mic. I'll go in-doors, that what is requisite may be pre-
pared. You do as I said, if you are wise. (Goes into his
house.)
Scene VII.
-^sciiiNUS alone.
-^SCH. 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 complai-
sant ! Is he not worthy to be beloved ? Is he not to be im-
printed in my very bosom ? Well then, the more does he im-
pose an obligation on me by his kindness, to take due precau-
tion 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.)
^_ Propitious to you) — Yer. 707. Donatus remarks that there is gi-eat
delicacy in this compliment of ^schinus to Micio, which, though made
in his presence, does not bear the semblance of flattery. Madame Da-
cier 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 pas-
sage is borrowed from some lines of Menander still in existence.
238 ADELPHI; [Act IV.
Scene VIII.
Enter Demea.
I am quite tired with walking : May the great Jupiter con-
found 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 iieople within.) I'll go and tell thcni
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'
' Certainly Iliad 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.
1
Sc. IX.J THE BROTHERS. 239
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 wo-
man 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 Avere 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 :^ if that which you most want to throw does
not turn up, what turns up by chance you must correct by
art.
Dem. 0 rare corrector! of course it is by your art that
twenty minse 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 !
^ Playing with dice) — Ver. 742. The "tesserae" of the ancients were
cubes, or what we call " dice ;" while the "tali" were in imitation of
the knuckle-bones of animals, and were mai'ked 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, 1. 257-9. Madame Da-
cier 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."
240 ADELPHI ; [Act IV., Sc. X.
]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 7iow 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. JIaving hold of the rope,^ 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, cheer-
ful 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^ desire it, she certainly could not
save this family. (Uxii.
^ 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 ; whicJi
was invented in resemblance of the manner in which the wooden horse
was dragged by ropes into the city of Troy.
2 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.
I
Act v., Sc. If.] THE BROTHERS. 241
ACT THE FIFTH.
Scene I.
Enter SrRUd, 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^ 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. {Ad-
dressing 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 hack into the house.)
' Have done your duUj)—Yev. 7G7. His duty of providing the viands
and drink for the entertainment. So Ergasilus says in the Captivi of
Plautus, 1. 912, " Now I will go off to ray government (prafecturam), to
give laws to the bacon."
L
242 ADELPHI; [Act V.
Dem. What is it he says about Ctesipho ?
Syr. Nothing.
Dem. How now, you hang-dog, is Ctesipho in the house ?
Sye. He is not.
Dem. Then why does he mention him?
Syr. It's another person ; a little diminutive Piirasitc.
Don't you know him ?
Dem. I will know him before long. {Going to the door.)
Syr. {stopping him.) What are you about? Whither arc
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 IH.
Enter Micio, from the house of Sostrata.
Mic. {to Sostrata, ivithin.) 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,i however.
' / 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 reprc-
I
I
Sc. III.] THE BROTHERS. 243
De:\i. See, here comes tlie common corrupter of my chil-
dren.
Mic. Pray moderate your passion, and recover yourself.
Dem. I have moderated it ; I am myself; I forbear all re-
proaches ; 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 so??, 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 arc
you harboring my son ? Why do you purchase a mistress for
him, Micio '? Is it at all fair, that I should have any less jus-
tice 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 them-
selves all things are common to friends.
Dem. Smartly said ; you've got that* speech up for the oc-
casion.
Mic. Listen to a few words, unless it is disagreeable, Dc-
mea. 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 foi^ them ; take care to leave them as
much as possible, and take that credit to yourself: my for-
tune, which has come to them beyond their expectation, allow
them to enjoy; o^ your capital 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 mat-
ters in your mind, Demea, you will save me and yonrself, and
them, considerable uneasiness.
Dem. I don't speak about the expense ; their morals
Mic. Hold ; I understand you ; that point I was coming
hensible. Perhaps the Poet threw this shade over his virtues on pur-
pose to show that mildness and good-humor might be carried to ex-
cess."
244 ADELPHI ; [Act V.
toJ Thero 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 m.ay 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
hav.e 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.
Desi. 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
liands ; smooth your brow.
De.m. Why, as the occasion requires it, I must do so ; but
to-morrow / shall be of with my son into the country at day-
break.
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
' That point I was coming to) — Vcr. 82-i. Colman observes here:
" Madame Dacicr makes an observation on this speech, something like
that of Donatus on one of Micio's above ; and says that Micio, beinj^
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."
I
Sc. IV.] THE BROTHERS. 245
meal ; besides all this, at the very mid-day ^ I'll set her gath-
ering stubble ; I'll make her as burned and as black as a
coal.
Mic. You quite delight me ; now you seem to mc to be
wise ; and for my part I would then compel my son to go to
bed with her, even though he should be imwilling.
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 tlien, and let's devote this day to the ob-
ject- 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 • hiui 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 noiv 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, oifensive
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 en-
tailed in consequence! Sons were born — a fresh care. And
just look, while I have been studying to do as much as pos-
sible 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, with.
^ At the vcrjj mid-day) — Ver. 851. Exposed to the lieat of a mid-day
sun.
• To the object) — Ver. 857. The marriage and its festivities.
24G ADELPIII; [ActV.
out 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 tluit
is to be effected by giving and indulging, I will not be be-
hind him. If our means fail, that least concerns me, as I am
the eldest.'
Scene V.
Enter Syrus.
Sye. Hark you, Demea, your brother begs you will not go
out of the way.
Dem. Who is it? — O Syrus, my friend,'^ save you ! how are
you? How goes it with you f
Syk. 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 f
{To Syrus.) You show yourself far from an unworthy serv-
ant, and I shall gladly do you a service.
Syr. I thank you.
Dem. Yes, Syrus, it is the truth ; and you shall be con-
vinced of it by experience before long.
Scene VI.
Enter Geta, from the home o/Sostrata.
Geta {to SosTRATA, ivithin). Mistress, I am going to see
^ Am the eldest)— Yar. 884. And therefore likely to be the first to
die, and to avoid seeing such a time come.
2 0 Syrus, my friend)— Vqw 886. The emptiness of his poor attempts
to be familiar are very evident in this line.
I
Sc. VII.] THE BROTHERS. 247
after them, that they may send for the damsel as soon as pos-
sible; 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 «^ 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, szr, to think so.
Dem. {aside.) Getting on by degrees — I'll first make the
lower classes my own.
Scene VII.
Enter iEscHiNUS, .from the house of Micio.
^SCH. {to himself.) They really are killing me while too
intent on performing the nuptials with all ceremony; the
ivhole day is being wasted in their preparations.
Dem. ^schinus! how goes it?
-^ilscH. 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 %
^scii. So I wish to do ; but I am waiting for the music-
girP and people to sing the nuptial song.
Dem. Come now, are you willing to listen to an old fellow
like me?
iEscii. What is it .?
Dem. Let those things alone, the nuptial song, the crowds,
the torches,-^ and the music-girls, and order the stone wall in
1 The music-girl)— Ver. 908. ''Tibicinge," or music-girls, attendee
at marriage ceremonials. See the Aulularia of Plautus, where Mega-
dorus hires the music-girls on his intended marriage with the daughter
of Euclio.
^ 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 accom-
panied a wedding, but from the present passage we may conclude that
they were not considered absolutely necessary.
248 ADELPHI; [Act V.
the garden^ 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.
-3£scii. 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 bring-
ing 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^ pay down his twenty raina^.
{To Syrus.) Syrus, do you delay to go and do it ?
Syr. What am I to do 1
De3I. Pull down the ivall: and you, Geta, go and bring
them across.
Geta. May the Gods bless you, Dcmea, as I see you so
sincere a well-wisher to our family. (Geta and Stilus (jo
into Micio's house.)
Dem. I think they deserve it. What say } '^u, jEschinuSy
as to this plan ?
^scii. I quite agree to it.
Dem. It is much more proper than that she, being sick and
l}dng-in, should be brought hither through the street.
iEscH. 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.
JEnier Micio, from his house.
Mic. {spealcing to Geta, ivithin.) 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, ivish especially to make this family one with
ourselves, to oblige, serve, and unite them.
' Stone ivallin the garden) — Ver. 911. The "maccria," or garden-wall
of loose stones, is also mentioned in the Truculentus of Plautus, 1. 301.
2 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 Avealthy man a tiabob,)and says, "Well, let him, witli
all my heart, be paying twenty miriaj (between £70 and £80) for a mu
sic-girl."
m, m
itil jlj
Sc. Vm.] THE BROTHERS. 249
^scii. 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 pkice, she is the mother of his wife {pointing to
JESCHINUS).
Mic. She is. AVhat 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,
yEschiims, 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. yEschmus, if you are a man, he'll do it
JEscii. My clear father
Mic. What, ass! do you attend to him?
Dem. 'T is all in vain ; it can not be otherwise.
Mic. You are mad !
^scii. Do let me prevail on you, my father.
Mic. Are you out of your senses? Take yourself off.'
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 ?
JEscH. Do ; I have promised it.^
Mic. Promised, indeed ; be generous at your own cost,
young man.
Dem. Come, what if he should ask a still greater fa-
vor ?
^ Take yourself off) — Ver. 940. JEschinus, probably, in his earnest-
ness, has seized hold of him with his hand, which Micio now pushes
av/ay.
'-' I have promised «V)— Ver. 943. This is not the truth ; the notion has
oulv been started since be b".st saw them.
T. 2
250 ADELPHI; [Act V.
Mic. As if this was not the greatest !
Dem/ Do comply.
^scii. Don't make any difficulty.
Dem. Do promise.
Mic. Will you not have done ?
JEscH. Not until I have prevailed upon you.
Mic. Really, this is downright force. ^
Dem. Act with heartiness, Micio.
Mic. Although this seems to me'^ to be wrong, foolish, ab-
surd, and repugnant to my mode of life, yet, if you so strong-
ly wish it, be it so.
^SCH. 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 he done ?
Dem. Hegio here is their nearest relation ; he is a connec-
tion of ours and poor ; we ought to do some good for him.
J\iic. Do what ?
Dem. There is a little farm here in the suburbs, which you
let out ; let us give it him to live upon.
MiCo 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,
^ Really, this is downright force) — Ver. 946. "Vis est htec quidem."
The same expression occurs in the Captivi of Plautus, 1. 755. The ex-
pression seemed to be a common one with the Romans. According to
Suetonius, Julius Ca2sar used it when attacked by his murderers in the
senate-house. On Tullius Cimber seizing hold of his garments, he ex-
claimed, "Ita quidem vis est!" — "Why, really, this is violence!"
2 This seems to ?«e) — Ver. 947. Donatus informs us that in Menan-
der'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."
I
I
Sc. IX.j THE BROTHERS. 2o I
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 -3^schinus), it shall be given him.
^scii. 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. ^
Scene IX.
Enter Syrus, from the house,
Sye. 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.
Syk. O my dear Demea ! upon liiy 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 in-
structed them in every thing I could.
Dem. The thing is evident ; and then, besides all this, to
cater yb?' them, secretly bring home a wench, prepare a morn-
ing entertainment ;2 these are the accomplishments of no or-
dinary 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 there-
hij : besides, he {pointing to ^schinus) desires it to be so.
^ At his own weapon) — Ver, 961. He pi'obably means, by aping the
kind feeling which is a part of Micio's character.
^ A morning entertainment) — Ver. 969. A banquet in the early part
or middle of the day was considered by the Greeks a debauch.
252 ADELPHI; [Act V
Mic. {to ^sciiiNUS.) Do you desire this to be done ?
^SCH. 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.i
Syr. You act generously ; I return my thanks to you all ;
— and to you, Demea, in particular.
Dem. I congratulate you.
^SCH. And I.
Syr. I believe you. I wish that this joy were made com-
plete— that I could see my wife, Phrygia,^ free as well.
Dem. Really, a most excellent woman.
Syr. And the first to suckle your grandchild, his son, to-
day (jjoiniing to ^sciiiNUS).
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^
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.
De:m. 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).
iEscii. He is a deserving fellow.
Syr. Upon my word, I will repay it ; only lend it me.
-32scn. Do, father.
Mic. I'll consider of it afterward.
Dem. He'll do it, Syrus.
Syr. O most worthy man !
^scii. O most kind-hearted father !
* Be a free man) — Ver. 974. He touches Syrus on tlic car, niicl
makes him free. The same occurs in the Epidicus of Plautus, Act V.,
Sc. 2, 1. 65.
^ My wife, Phryrjia) — Ver. 977. The so-called marriage, or ratlier co-
habitation, of the iioman 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.
3 Receive the amount from me) — Ver. 981. The only sign of generosity
he has yet shown.
J
Sc. IX.] THE BKOTHERS. 253
Mic. How is this? What has so suddenly changed your
disposition, Demea ? What caprice is this f What means this
sudden liberality?'
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, in-
deed, from a regard for virtue and justice ; but from your
humoring, indulging, and pampering them. Now therefore,
^schinus, if my mode of life has been displeasing to you, be-
cause I do not quite humor you in every thing, just or un-
just, I iiave 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.
^scii. 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 .-^ with her let
him make an end of his follies.
Mic That's right. {To the Audience.) Grant us your
applause.
1 This sudden liberality) — Ver. 989. " Quid prolubium? Qua; istaec
subita est largitas ?" Madame Dacier tells us that this passage was
borrowed from Ccecilius, the Comic Poet.
2 Let Mm 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 PERSONS.
Laches,^ an aged Athenian, father of Pamphilus.
PhidippuSj^ an aged Athenian, father of Phihimcna.
Pamphilus,^ son of Laches.
SosiA,* servant of Pamphilus,
Pabmexo,^ servant of Sostrata.
SosTRATA,^ wife of Laches.
Mterhixa,' wife of Phidippus.
Bacchis,^ a Courtesan.
Philotis,' a Courtesan.
Stra,'° a Procuress.
Scene. — Athens ; before the houses of Laches, Phidippus, and Bac-
CHIS.
See the Dramatis Persona? of the Eunuchus.
From <i>€L6d, "parsimony," and In-bg, "a horse."
See the Dramatis Persona of the Andria.
See the Dramatis Persona? of the Andria.
See the Dramatis Persona? of the Eunuchus.
See the Dramatis Personse of the Heautontimorumenos.
From fiv^pivi), " a myrtle."
See the Dramatis Personse of the Heautontimorumenos.
From ^i/orz/f, "friendship."
From Syria, her native country.
THE SUBJECT.
Pamphilus, the son of Laches by his wife Sostrata, beini:^ at the time
enamored of Bacchis, a Coui-tesan, 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 tlie young woman whom he has ravished is
given to him as a wife, to the great joy of her mother, Avho 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 Pamphihis,
who by degrees becomes weaned from his afiection for her, and grows
attached to his wife, Mhom 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 there-
upon 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 w^ife as being the cause of this estrangement.
Pamphilus now returns, and it so happens that, on the day of his ar-
rival, 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 mat-
ter 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 con-
versing with them, they recognize the ring upon her finger w^hich
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 Caesar
and Cneius Cornelius Dolabella being Curule ^diles. The
whole was not then acted. Flaccus, the freedman of Clau-
dius, composed the music to a pair of flutes. It was com-
posed wholly from the Greek of Menander.' It was per-
formed the first time without a Prologue. Represented a
second time ; Cneius Octavius and T. Manlius being Con-
suls.2 It was then brought out in honor of L. Emilias
Paulus, at his Funeral Games, and was not approved of.
It was repeated a third time ; Q. Fulvius and L. Marcius
being Curule ^diles. L. Ambivius Turpio .performed it.
It was then approved of.^
^ Menander) — Accordin{:f to some, this Play was borrowed from the
Greek of Apollodorus, a Comic Poet and contemporary of Menander,
who wrote forty-seven Plays.
^ Being Consuls) — Cneius Octavius Nepos and T. Manlius Torquatus
were Consuls in the year from the building of the City 587, and B.C. 16G.
3 It was then approved q/")— " 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.
HECYRA; THE MOTHER-IN-LAW.
THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.
Pa?.ipiiilt:s has married Pliilumena, to whom, when a virgin, he for-
merly, not knowing who she was, offered violence ; and whose ring,
whicli he took off by force, he gave to his mistress, Bacchis, a Court,
esan. 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 de-
termines not to take back his wife. His father imputes this to his
passion for Bacchis. While Bacchis is exculpating herself, Myr-
rhina, the mother of the injured girl, by chance recognizes the ring.
Pamphilus takes back his wife, together with his son.
THE FIRST PEOLOGUE.
IIecyra^ is the name of this Play ; when it was represent-
ed, for the first time, an unusual disaster and calamity^ inter-
rupted it, so that it could not be witnessed throughout or esti-
mated ; so much had the populace, carried away with admi-
ration, devoted their attention to some rope-dancing. It is
now offered as though entirely a new Play ; and he vvlio wrote
it did not wish to bring it forward then a second time, on pur-
pose that he might be able again to sell it.^ Other Plajjs of
^ Jlecyra) — Ver. 1. The Greek word "E/cfpa, a "step-mother," or
"mother-in-law," Latinized.
2 And calamity) — Ver. 3. "Calamitas." This word is used in the
same sense in the first line of the Eunuch. This is evidently the Pro-
logue 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 prefei-red exhibitions of rope-
dancers and pugilists to witnessing his Plays.
2 Again to sell it) — Ver. 7. See the last Note to the Second Pro-
logue.
258 HECYRA;
I
liis^ you havo seen represented ; I beg you now to give your
attention to this.
THE SECOND PROLOGUE.^
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 Caicilius,^ 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 uncer-
tain, 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 re-
store 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 endeav-
* Other Plays of his) — Ver. 8. Madame Dacier informs ns that Vos-
sius 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 Pla3^s.
^ Second Prologue) — Eugraphius informs us that this Prologue was
spoken by Ambivius Turpio, the head of the company of Actors.
3 Ccecilius) — Ver. 14. Colman has the following Note: "A famous
Comic Poet among the Romans. His cliief excellences are said to have
been, the gravity of his style and the choice of his subjects. The first
quaUty was attributed to him by Horace, Tully, etc., and the last by
Varro. ' In argumentis Crecilius poscit palmam, in ethesi Terentius.'
* In the choice of subjects, Cajcilius demands the preference ; in the man-
ners, 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 ar-
gument 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 atti-ibuted by the critics of those days to
Terence, and which Horace mentions in the very same line with the
gravity of Cascilius, distinguishing them as the several characteristics
of each writer, *' Vincere Cgecilius gravitate, Terentius arte."
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 259
ors in discouraging liim, so that he might live a life of idle-
ness rather than of study, I might have easily discouraged
him from Meriting others. Now, for my sake, hear with un-
biased 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 lirst time, when I began to act this P/c///,
the vauntings of boxers,^ the expectation of a rope-dancer, '
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,^ 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 :* meantime, I was unable to maintain
my place. Now there is no confusion : there is attention and
silence — an opportunity of acting m?/ Play has been granted
me; to yourselves is given the power of gracing the scenic
festival.^ Do not permit, through your agency, the dramatic
^ Vauntings of boxers) — Ver. 33. Horace probably had tins passaj^c
in his mind when he penned the First Epistle in his Second Book, 1. 185 ;
where he mentions the populace leaving a Play in the midst for the
sight of a bear, or an exhibition of boxers.
^ Of a rope-dancer) — Vev. 3J:. 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 tlieir 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. Ger-
manicus and Galba are said to have exhibited elephants dancing on the
tight rope.
^ The old custom of mine) — Ver. 38. He says that on the second rep-
resentation he followed tlie plan which he had formerly adopted in the
Plays of Ca^cilius, of bringing those foi'ward again which had not given
satisfaction at first.
* 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 appropri-
ated to each "ordo" or class.
^ 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
260 IIECYRA ; [Act I.
art to sink into the hands of a few ; let your authority prove
a seconder and assistant to my own. If I have never covet-
ously set a price upon my skill, and have come to this conclu-
sion, 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 protec-
tion, and himself to your integrity, — that him, I say, the mali-
cious may not maliciously deride, beset hy 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.^
ACT THE FHiST.
Scene I.
Enter Piiilotis'^ and Syka.
PiiiL. r 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
chief ornaments, if by too .Q;reat a severity they discouraged the Poets
wlio undertook to furnisli the Phxys during the solemnity.
^ At my own expense) — Ver, 57. It is generally supposed that "meo
pretio" means "a price named as my estimate;" and tliat it was the
custom for the iEdiles to purchase a Flay 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 iEdiles had
the right to ask back the money from the actor, who consequently be-
came a loser by the transaction. Parens and Meric Casaubon think,
however, that in case of this Play, the iEdiles had purchased it from
the Poet, and the performers had bought it of the ^diles as a S]>ccula-
tion. 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 in-
terest in it ; but he preferred to cancel the whole transaction, and to
reserve the Play for purchase and representation at a more favorable
period.
^ Philoiis) — This is a protatic character, or one that helps to intro-
duce the subject of the Play, and then appears no more.
I
Sc. II.] THE MOTHEll-IX-LAVv". 261
any one might have readily believed him — that he never would
take home a wife so long as she lived. Well now, he is mar-
ried. •
Syk. Therefore, for that very reason, I earnestly both ad-
vise 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 ?
Syk. 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. AVill 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.
Ente7' Pakmeno from the house of Laches.
Pak. {at the door, spealdng to Sciktus ivithin.) 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 Pam-
philus. Do you hear what I say, Scirtus? If he asks for
me, then you are to say so ; if he docs not, ivhy, say nothing
at all ; so that at another time I may be able to employ
that excuse as a new one. {Comes forivard, 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. r 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 fixncy that regret for Athens full oft pos-
202 IIECYRA; [Act I.
sessed you, and that yOu thought but poorly of your fore-
sight.
Phil. It can not be expressed how impatient I was to re-
turn hither, get rid of the captain, and see yourselves hero,
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 sub-
jects as he chose.
Par. {sarcasticalhj.) I don't think it was gallant in the cap-
tain 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? (joointing 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 last-
ing.
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 with-
in 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 ;^ as though you were not
much more impatient to tell me this, than I to learn what I'm
inquiring about.
Par. (to himself.) Sbe 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.
1 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 Avorthy to be intrusted with the secret.
Sc. II.] THE MOTHEK-IN-LAW. 203
Phil. You are noiv returning to your natural disposition.
I give you my word ; say on.
Par- Listen.
Phil. I'm all attention.
Par. Pampliilus was in the height of his passion for Bac-
chis 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 noiu 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, Avhether 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 Pampliilus, until on the very 23oint of marriage, when ho
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 slie would
have pitied him. Whenever opportunity Avas aiForded 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 miserj^, 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 liis wife. On
tlie first night, he did not touch the girl ; the night that follow-
ed 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 him-
self 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 ; hut 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 hoiv that before he had taken
her home as his wife, he had hoped to be able to endure this
264 HECYRA; [Act I.
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 re-
ceived her."
Phil. You tell me of a conscientious and virtuous disposi-
tion 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 men-
tioning 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 accorcV
Phil. What did he do in the mean while % Used he to vi'sit
Bacchis?
Par. Every day. But as usucdhj is the case, after she saAV
that he belonged to another, she immediately became more
ill-natured and more peevish.
Phil. P faith, that's not to be wondered at.
Par. And this circumstance in especial contributed to es-
trange him from her; after he had fairly examined himself,
and her, and the one that was at home, he formed a judg-
ment, 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 oyercome by compassion for his
wife, partly constrained by the insolence of the other, was
gradually estranged from Bacchis, and transferred its affec-
tions to the other, after having found a congenial disposition.
In the mean time, there dies at Imbros^ an old man, a rela-
tive 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 be-
ing lasting ?
Par. You shall hear just now. At first, for several days,
there really was a good understanding between them. In the
^ Imbros) — Ver. 171. An island in the ^gean Sea, off the coast of
Thrace.
I
Sc. II.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 265
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 '?
Pah. If at any time she came to converse with her, she
would instantly withdraw from her presence,^ 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. vShe 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 pur-
pose, 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 7iow
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^ 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,
' From her presence^ — Ver. 182. For the purpose, as will afterward
appear, of not letting Sostrata see that she was pregnant.
' 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 acknowl-
edged 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 ar-
gument 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.' "
M
266 HECYRA ; [Act II.
ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.^
Enter Laches and Sostkata, /ro;?i 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 obsti-
nacy 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 !
Lacii. {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.
Lacii. You, undeservedly ? Can any thing possibly be
said that you deserve in return for this conduct of yours ?
* Scene I.) — Colmnn 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 imme-
diately 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 informa-
tion at first setting out. We are told of the abrupt departure of Philu-
mena, and are witnesses of the confusion in the two families of Laches
and rhidippus. The absence of Laches, which had been in great meas-
ure the occasion of this misunderstanding, is also very artfully men-
tioned in the altercation between him and Sostrata. The character of
Laches is very naturally drawn. He has a good heart, and a testy dis-
position, and the poor old gentleman is kept in such constant perplexity
that he has perpetual occasion to exert both those qualities."
J
Sc. I.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 267
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^ to him. You alone have put yourself forward, by
your folly, to be causing this disturbance.
Sos. What, I?
Lacii. 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 compli-
ance with your request, and to look after my affairs, in order
that my circumstances might be able to support your lavish-
ness 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
* Intrust their children) — ^Ver. 212. The plural "liberos," children, is
used where only one is being spoken of, similarly, in the Heautonti-
jnorumenos, 1. 151.
268 HECYRA; [Act II.
have pretended to dislike me, on purpose that she might be
more with her mother 1
Lacii. 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 'Phidipfus 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 zqwri myself io yield to you, and not oppose your
inclination.
Lacii. And look, most opportunely I see Phidippus; I'll
presently know from him how it is. {Accosting him.) Phidip-
pus, 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 \vould 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
I
Sc. ni.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 269
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' 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.
Lacii. What is it prevents you from effecting if? 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 solemn-
ly 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.
Lacii. {turning to Ids ivife, who stands apart.) Ha! Sos-
trata !2
Sos. {sighinrj 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.
Lacii. 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
^ If he comes to hnoio) — 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.
2 Hal Sostrata) — Ver. 271. Cohnan observes on this passage : "This
is extremely artful. The answer of Philumena, as rehited by Phidip-
pus, 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 appear-
ances 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 man-
ner."
270 IIECYRA; [Act III.
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 cross-
es 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 per-
suaded yourself are so grievous.
Pam. Why comfort me? Is there a person in all the
world so wretched as /.? 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 an-
other quarter, when, lo ! a new misfortune has arisen, which
Sc. I.] THE MOTHEIMN-LAW. 271
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 be-
come 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
iujlicted on her by me. But, Parmeno, something of conse-
quence, I know not what it is, must have happened for this
mismiderstanding 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 under-
standing 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^ 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 run-
ning 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.
Pm undone !
Par. Why so?
Pam. Utterly ruined !
- And carry loord) — Ver. 314. It was the custom with the Greeks and
Komans, when returning from abroad, to send a messenger before them,
to inform their wives of their arrival.
272 HECYRA; [Act III.
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^ 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, Phi-
lumena, am I now to find you ? But if you are in any peril,
beyond a doubt I will perish with you. {Goes into t.,c 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 disagree-
able to them. Yesterday, no one would give Sostrata ad-
mittance. 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.'^
' Was in alarm about) — Ver. 32 1 . " Pavitare." Casaubon has a curi-
ous suggestion here ; he thinks it not improbable that he had heard the
female servants whispering among themselves that Philumena "pari-
tare," "was about to be brought to bed," which he took for "pavitare,"
" was in fear" of something.
^ Heavy punishmenf) — Ver. 335. Probably meaning that he will be
examined by torture, whether he has not, by drugs or other means, con-
tributed to Philumena's illness.
I
Sc. ni.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 273
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 iUness is getting worse, ^sculapius, I do
entreat thee, and thee. Health, ^ 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. AVhat, Parmeno, is it you ? I'm undone! wretch that
I am, what shall I do ? Am I not to go see the wife of Pam-
philus, 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 annoy-
ance 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!
^ And thee, Health] — Ver. 338. She invokes iEsculapius, the God of
Medicine, and "Salus," or "Health," because, in Greece, their statues
Avere 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 ^sculapius, see the opening Scene of the Curculio
of Plautus.
M 2
274 HECYKA; [Act III.
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 1
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 sud-
denly taken ill %
Pam. Such was the fact.
Sos. What is her malady ?
Pam. a fever.
Sos. An intermitting one ?^
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. {stamjnng.) Do you loiter? (£'ic/i 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, 1
rushed into the house, expecting to find m,y wife afflicted
with some other malady than what I have found it to be ; —
ah me ! immediately the servant-maids beheld that I had
' An intermitting one) — Ver. 357. " Quotidiana ;" literally, "daily."
Sc. v.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 275
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,^
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
vv^ife, I followed close. When I entered the room, that in-
stant, 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 tliose 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 shock-
ing circumstance. Her mother followed me ; just as I got to
the threshold, she threw herself on her knees : I felt compas-
sion 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 Pam-
philus, you see the reason why she left your house ; for vio-
lence 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 clear 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.^ That you are sensible of this, the circum-
stances themselves prove. Now, if it is possible, Pamphilus,
^ All of them change) — Ver. 3G9. This must have been imaginary, as
they were not likely to be acquainted with the reason of Phihimena's
apprehensions.
^ Since she came to you) — Ver. 394, There is great doubt what is the
276 HECYRA ; [Act III.
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 other-
wise 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,^ poor thing!" I prom-
ised 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 1 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. Par-
mcno 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.
exact meaning of " postquam ad tc 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 tlie
circumstances, the most probable construction.
^ Committed upon h.er') — 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 adven-
ture, 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 imme-
diately 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 thetmselves 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.
Sc. VI.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 277
Scene VI.
Enter at a distance Parmeno and Sosia, with people
carrying baggage.
Par. {to Sosia.) Do you say that this voyage was disagree-
able 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 noth-
ing of other hardships, mark this one only; thirty days or
more^ was I on board that ship, and every moment, to my
horror, was in continual expectation of death : such unfavor-
able 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 Attend-
ants, who go into the house of Laches.) Go in-doors ; I'll accost
him, to see if he wants any thing with me. {Accosts Pamphi-
lus.) What, still standing here, master ?
Pam. Yes, and waiting for you.
Par. What's the matter ?
Pam. You must run across to the citadel.^
Par. Who must 1
Pam. You.
Par. To the citadel ? Why thither 1
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
^ Thirty days or wore) — Ver. 421. In his voyage from Imbros to
Athens, namely, which certainly appears to have been unusually long.
2 To the citadel)— Vev. 431. This was the fort or citadel that defended
the Piraeus, and being three miles distant from the city, was better suit-.
ed for the design of Pamphilus, whose object it was to keep Parmeno
for some time at a distance.
278 HECYRA; [Act III.
that if ever he should return home safe, he would rupture nie^
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 ap-
pointed, 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 coun-
tenance.
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 situa-
tion ? 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 regard-
ful of a parent,^ 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 ?
^ He would rupture 7ne) — Ver. 435. He facetiously pretends to think
that Pamphilus may, during a storm at sea, bara vowed to walk him to
death, if he should return home.
2 Regardful of a parent) — Ver. 448. Colman observes here: "This
reflection seems to be rather improper in this place, for the discovery of
Philumenas labor betrayed to Pamphilus the real motive of her depart-
ure ; after which discovery his anxiety proceeds entirely from the sup-
posed injury offered him, and his filial piety is from that period made
use of merely as a pretense."
Sc. VIII.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 279
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 de-
voted to pleasure while he lived ; and those who are so, don't
much benefit their heirs, but for themselves leave this com-
mendation : While he lived, he lived well.^
Lach. So then, you have brought home nothing more^
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 {p)ointing to Phidippus) desired Philu-
mena to be fetched to his house. {Whispers to Phidippus,
nudging him with his elboiv.) Say that you desired it.
^ 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 hve
well."
^ 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.
280 HECYEA; [Act lU.
FiiiD. (aside to Laches.) Don't punch me so. (To Pam-
PHiLus.) I desired it.
Lacii. 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 PiiiDiPPUS.) 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, M'ho is
now acting unjustly toward me, speaks favorably of me.
And that through no foult 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 post-
pone all considerations for your parent. But take care, Pam-
philus, 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 1 I both love and praise and exceed-
ingly 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,)
Sc. X.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 281
Lach. Whither are you going ? Stay, stay, I tell you ;
whither are you going ? (Exit Pamphilus.
Scene IX.
Laches wid 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 50 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,^ and
take himself off.
Lach. Just look at that, now ; you too are getting obstinate
and huffish.
Phid. (speaking ivith anger.) You have returned to us in a
very ungovernable mood, Pamphilus.
Lach. This anger will depart ; although he has some rea-
son 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?
PiHD. 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 hastihj 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 plan-
ning all these things have been brought about, and against her
I will vent all the vexation that I feel.
^ Pay hack her portion) — Ver. 502. As was universally done on a sep-
aration bv aerreement.
282 HECYKA; [Act IV.
ACT THE FOURTH.
Scene I.
Enter' Mykrhina, 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 1 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 ut-
terly undone !
Scene II.
Enter Phidippus, from the house.
PiiiD. {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.
Myk. What, to me, my husband?
Phid. Am I your husband ? Do you consider me a hus-
band, 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. ^ That you should be of a mind so per-
^ At the right time) — Ver. 531. Lemaire observes that, from this pas-
sage, it would appear that the Greeks considered seven months suffi-
Sc. II.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 283
verse 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 /or doing so. But just as you formerly showed your-
self, 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 it-
self now plainly proves how far you wished it carried out.
Myk. 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 discre-
tion, and but occasionally, is it not more kind in us to con-
ceal 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.
cient 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 con-
clusion.
284 HECYRA ; [Act IV.
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 hack ; but if on the other hand he does not wish it, I have
taken the best course for ray 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 Avithout
my leave. I forbid you to attempt to carry the child any
where out of this house. But I am very foolish to be ex-
pecting 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 un-
known to me, when he bears this, which is of less conse-
quence, 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^ 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.)
^ 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 cir-
cumstances directly to the Audience.
Sc. IV.] THE MOTHEK-IN-LAW. 285
Scene IV.
Enter Sostrata and Pampiiilus.
Sos. It is not unknown to me, ray son, that I am sus-
pected by you as the cause of your wife having left our house
in consequence of my conduct ; although you carefully con-
ceal your knowledge of it. But so may the Gods prosper me,
and so may you answer all my hopes, I have never knowing-
ly 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 re-
ward 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 in-
clination. Besides, I do not wish you, for my sake, to forego
your friends and relations, and festive days.^
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. ^ Here I see
that, without deserving it, I am disliked; it is time /or me to
retire. Thus, in the best way, I imagine, I shall cut short
^ And festive days) — ^Ver. 592. "Festos dies." The days for sacri-
ficing to particular Divinities, when she would have the opportunity of
meeting her friends, and making herself merry with them.
^ Look forward ivith impatience to my death) — Ver. 596. Colman
says : *' This idea of the long life of a step-mother being odious to her
286 HECYRA ; [Act IV.
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.
Lacii. 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.)
family, is applied in a very beautiful and uncommon manner by Shaks-
peare : —
"Now, fair Hii^polyta, 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 Nighfs Dream.
Sc. VI.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 287
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 advanta-
geous 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. Perso?is 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." ^ 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, icithin.) Upon
my faith, I am angry with you too, Philumena, extremely so,
for, on my word, you have acted badly ; still there is an ex-
cuse 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 ?
^ 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, 1. 540, at the commencement of a sto-
ry : " Fuit olim, quasi ego sum, senex," " There was upon a time an
old man, just like me."
288 HECYRA; [Act IV.
Lach. {to Phidippus.) Tell your daughter that Sostrata is
going into the country, that the may not now be afraid of re-
turning home.
PiiiD. Alas ! your wife has been guilty of no fault in this
affair; all this mischief has originated in my wife Myr-
rhina.
Pam. {aside.) They are changing sides.
PiiiD. '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 other-
wise inclined, still take the child. ^
Pam. [aside.) He has discovered that she has been brought
to bed. Pm undone !
Lach. The child ! What child ?
Phid. We have had a grandson born to us ; for my daugh-
ter 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 ti-
dings, 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 disgrace-
ful 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.
Pajvi. (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.
^ StiU take the child) — Ver. 638. In cases of separation it was cus-
tomary for the father to have the care of the male children.
Sc. VI.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 289
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 per-
suaded 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 aban-
doned, am I to rear ?
Lach. What was it you said ? How — not rear it, Pam-
philus ? 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 {imnting to Phi-
Dippus) 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 moth-
er, 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
N
290 HECYRA.; [Act IV.
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 be-
setting wretched me on every side. I'll go away from here,
since I avail but little by my presence. For without my con-
sent, I do not believe that they will bring up the child, espe-
cially as on tliat 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
marriaj]^e.
Sc. VIII.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 291
Lach. What am I to do, then, Phidippus ? What advice
do you give ?
Thid. 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 seri-
ously 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 neigh-
bor ; desire her, in my name, to come hither. {Exit Attend-
ant.) 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^ 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 PniDn^rus.
Scene VIII.
Enter Bacchis, attended ly her Women.
Baccii. {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 won-
1 But should you like) — Ver. 725. Donatus observes that Phidippus
utters these words with an air of disinclination to be present at the con-
ference ; 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 prop-
erly advise it, as being likely to conduce to the peace of both families.
292 HECYRA ; [Act IV.
der what can be my reason for sending the lad to fetch you
out of doors.
Baccii. Upon my faith, I am even in some anxiety as well,
Avhen 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 un-
deserving of it.
Bacch. On liiy word, great is the gratitude that I ought to
feel toward you for such conduct ; for he who, after commit-
ting an injury, would excuse himself, would profit me but lit-
tle. But what is the matter %
Lach. You admit my son, Pamphilus, to your house.
Baccii. Ah !
Lach. Just let me speah : 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.
Baccii. What! that I
Lach. That you do : and she has taken away her daugh-
ter ; 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 bo
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^ from me ever since he took a wife.
^ 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 can-
didly in every other instance, wantonly perjures herself in this, or that
the Poet, bv a strange infatuation attending him in this Play, contra-
Sc. IX.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 293
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 Phidip-
pus) to the women, and make the same promise, on oath, to
them ; satisfy their minds, and clear yourself from this charge.
Baccit. 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, til at, 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 differ-
ent from what I had expected, take care that you still con-
tinue 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 ivhat as an enemy.
Scene IX.
Enter Pihdippus 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 com-
ing ; he is bringing a nurse for the child. {Accosting him.)
Phidippus, Bacchis swears most solemnly.
Phid. Is this she ?
diets liimself ?" To this it may be answered, tliat as Bacchis appears
to be so scrupulous in other instances, it is credible that, notwithstand-
ing hi? visits, she may not have allowed him to share her embraces.
294 HECYRA ; [Act IV., Sc. IX.
Lach. It is.
PiiiD. Upon my faith, those women don't fear the Gods;
and I don't think that the Gods care about them.
Baccii. {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 ef-
fect that, I shall not regret its being reported that I have been
the only one to do what other courtesans avoid doing. ^
Lacii. We find, Phidippus, that our wives have been un-
justly suspected^ by us in this matter. Let us now try lu r
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 sub-
side. 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.
PiiiD. Why do you tell me these things? 7s it because you
have not already heard what my feelings are with regard to
this matter, Laches ? Do you only satisfy their minds.
^ Other courtesans avoid doing) — ^Ver. 777. Colman has the following
quotation from Donatus : "Terence, by his uncommon art, has attempt-
ed many innovations with great success. In this Comedy, he introdu-
ces, 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 Ter-
ence, in showing that a mother-in-law and a courtesan could be capable
of acting with good and disinterested feelings, Avhich caused Cumber-
land 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.
" Have been unjustly suspected) — Ver. 778. The words here employed
are also capable of meaning, if an active sense is given to " suspec-
tas," "our wives have entertained wrong suspicions;" but the sense
above given seems preferable, as being the meaning of the passage.
Act v., Sc. I.j THE MOTHEK-IN-LAW. 295
Lacii. Troth now, Bacchis, I do entreat that what you
have promised me you will do.
Baccii. 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 sepa-
rated 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 mis-
take, 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 ivith Phidippus and her Attendants.)
Lach. {to himself.) What is there that I could more wish
for, than what I sec 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 fiivor 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 ivith difficulty.
Par. {to himself.) Upon my faith, my master does assured-
ly think my labor of little value ; to have sent me for no-
thing, where I have been sitting the whole day to no purpose,
waiting at the citadel for Callidemides, his landlord at My-
conos. 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 Myconianf "I am not." ''But is your
296 HECYRA; [Act V.
name Callidemides'?" "No." '' Have you any former guest
here named Pamphilus V 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.
^ntei^ Bacchis, /ro7?z the home o/* Phidippus.
Baccii. Parmeno, you make your appearance opportunely ;
run with all speed^ to Pamphilus.
Pak. 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 in-
quiry.
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 0/ 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
1 Eun icith 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.
Sc. III.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 297
I save for him, when it was nearly perishing tlirough 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 sur-
charged with wine,i 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 some-
thing else. When I saw that, I began to suspect I know not
what, and to press him still more to tell me. The fellow con-
fessed 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
hsa befallen him through my agency ; although other courte-
sans 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 in-
conveniences from one from whom I have received so many
benefits.
* 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 dis-
covery."
N2
298 HECYRA; [Act V.
Scene IV.
Enter Pamphilus and Pakmeno, 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 tran-
sient joys.
Pah. 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-r— 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 my-
self 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 un-
rewarded ? 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 cliarming qualities,
8c. IV.] THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 299
that wherever you go, the meeting with you, your company,
your conversation, always give pleasure.
Baccii. And you, upon my word, possess your former man-
ners 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.
Baccii. 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,^
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.
Baccii. Nay more, I will give you a proof why you may
suppose that this may be the more easily concealed. Myr-
rhina 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 talk-
ing about ?
Pam. You may not.
* In the Comedies) — Ver. 867. — Madame Dacier observes on this pas-
sage : " 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 plaus-
ible and natural, that he could not have followed the beaten track with-
out otfending against manners and decency. This bold and uncommon
turn is one of the chief graces of the Plnv."
800 HECYEA ; [Act V., Sc. IV.
Par. Still I suspect. " I restore him, when dead, from the
shades below." ^ In what way"?
Pam. You don't know, Parmeno, how much you have ben-
efited me to-day, and from what troubles you have extricated
me.
Par. Nay, but indeed I do know : and I did not do it with-
out design.
Pam. I know that well enough {ironically).
Baccii. 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 / did, knowingly, in all
my life. {Coming forward.) Grant us your applause.^
^ From the shades below) — Ver. 876. Parmeno says this, while pon-
dering 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.
2 Your applause) — Ver. 881. We may here remark, that the Hecyra
is the only one of the Plays of Terence with a single plot.
I PHORMIOj OR, THE SCHEMING PARASITE.
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
Demipho,^
^ ' [■ Aged Athenians, brothers.
Chremes,'' ) *=
Antipho,^ son of Demipho.
Ph^dria,* son of Chremes.
Phormio,^ a Parasite.
Geta,® servant of Demipho.
Davus,^ a servant.
Hegio,^ \
Cratinus,^ s- Advocates.
CrITOjIO )
Doric,' ^ a Procurer.
Nausistrata," the wife of Chremes.
SoPHRONA,'^ the nurse of Phaniura.
Scene. — Athens ; before the houses of Demipho, Chremes, and DoRio.
' From Stj/io^, "the people," and ^wf, "light."
^ See the Dramatis Personaa of the Andria.
^ See the Dramatis Personal of the Eunuchus.
* See the Dramatis Personoc of the Eunuchus.
* Erom (popjubc, " an osier basket."
^ See the Dramatis Personae of the Adelphi.
' See the Dramatis Persona) of the Andria.
® See the Dramatis PersonjB of the Adelphi.
^ Erom KpaTog, "strength."
^° See the Dramatis Persona) of the Andria.
1^ Erom Doris, his country, a part of Caria.
" From vavg, " a ship," and arparog, " an army."
" See the Dramatis Personse of the Eunuchus.
THE SUBJECT.
Chremes and Demipiio are two aged Athenians, brothers. Nansistrafa,
the wife of Chremes, is a wealthy woman, possessed of large estates
in the island of Lemnos. Chremes, who goes thither yearly to re-
ceive 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
Phffldria, and his brother has a son, named Antipho. Phanium hav-
ing 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, Phce-
dvia falls in love with a Music-girl, but, from want of means, is un-
able to purchase her from her owner. In the mean time, the Lem-
nian wife of Chremes, urged by poverty, embarks for Athens, whith-
er 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 ac-
cident, falls in love with her. Being wishful to marry her, he applies
to Phormio, a Parasite, for his advice. The latter hits upon the fol-
lowing scheme : there being a law at Athens, wliich obliges the next-
of-kin to female orphans, either to marry them or give them a por-
tion, the Parasite pretends that he is a friend of Phanium, and in-
sists 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 otlier
that he has lost the opportunity of getting his daughter advantageous-
ly married. In the mean time, Pha?dria 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 con-
sented to take back the woman whom Antipho has married, if Demi-
pho will give her a portion of thirty mince. Demipho borrows the
money of Chremes, and pays it to Phormio, who hands it over to
Phajdria, and Phaedria to Dorio, for his mistress. At this conjunct-
ure, it becomes known who Phanium really is, and the old men arc
delighted to find that Antipho has married the very person they
wished. They attempt, however, to get back the thirty minaj 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 informa-
tion.
THE TITLE OF THE PLAY.
Performed at the Roman Games,^ L. Posthumius Albinus
and L. Cornelius Merula being Curule ^diles. L. Ambi-
vius Turpio and L. Atilius Praenestinus 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 repre-
sented four times,'-^ C. Fannius and M. Valerius being Con-
suls.^
^ The Roman Games) — The"ludi Romani," or "Roman Games,"
were first established by Ancus Marcius, and were celebrated in the
month of September.
2 Four times) — The numerals signifying "four," Donatus takes to
mean that this was the fourth Play composed by Terence ; it is, how-
ever, more generally supposed that the meaning is, that it was acted
four times in one year.
^ Being Consuls) — M. Valerius Messala and C. Fannius Strabo were
Consuls in the year from the Building of the City 59], and B.C. 162.
PHORMIOi OE, THE SCHEMING PARASITE.
THE SUMMAKY 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, (Chremes 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 noio returned, begin to be enraged.
Afterward they give thirty min^e to the Parasite, that he may take
her as his oivn wife. With this money the Music-girl is bought yb?-
Phcedria. Antipho then keeps his wife, who has been recognized by
his uncle.
THE PROLOGUE.
Since the old Poet^ can not withdraw our bard from his
pursuits and reduce him to indolence, he endeavors, bj in-
vectives, to deter him from writing: for he is wont to say
to this effect, — that the Plays which he has hitherto com-
posed 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^ and
^ 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.
* While one implored) — ^Ver. 8. " Et earn 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 im-
plores 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 assist-
ance ; as certainly the Latin will admit of that interpretation. — Ovid
has a somewhat similar passage in the Pontic Epistles, B. ii. Ep. ii. 1.
39 : "The hind that, in its terror, is flying from the savage dogs, liesi-
tates not to trust itself to the neighboring house."
niOllMIO ; OR, THE ^SCHEMING PAKASiTE. 305
entreated that he would give her aid. But if he had been
aware that Ids 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 lie
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 in-
tended 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 noiv 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 " Epidicazo-
menos,"! 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 ;- which place, the merit of the actor, and
your good-will and candor seconding it, has since restored
imto us.
^ Epid'icazomcnos) — Ver. 25. A Play of Aiwllodoi'us, 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.
^ 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.
30G niOEMIO; OR, [Act I., Sc. I.
ACT THE FIRST.
Scene I.
Enter Davus,'^ loith a hag 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,^ 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^ for another present^ when
his mistress is brought to bed; and then again for another
present, when the child's birthday comes ; when they initiate
him,^ too : all this the mother will carry off; the child will
onl?/ be the pretext for the present. But don't I see Geta
there ?
^ Davus) — Davus is a protatic character, only introduced for the pur-
pose of opening the story.
'^ Out of his allowance) — Ver. 43. Donatus tells us that the slaves re-
ceived four " modii," or measures of corn, each month, which was called
their "demensum."
3 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, 1. 247, " Ibi ilia pendentem ferit." " Then
does she strike while he is wavering,"
* For another present) — Ver. 48. Presents were usually made to per-
sons on their birthday, on the day of their marriage, and on the birth
of their children.
* Initiate hivi) — Ver. 49. It is not known what initiation is here
referi-ed to. Madame Dacier thinks it was an initiation into the great
mysteries of Ceres, which was commonly performed while children were
yet very yoimg ; 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, Drink-
ing, and Sleeping.
Sc. II.] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 307
Scene II.
Enter G'EUX, from the house o/Demipiio.
Geta (at the door, to those ivithin.) If any red-haired man
should inquire for me
Day. (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;^ 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 obhged to him. But why arc 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 trustwor-
thiness you have experienced as to money, are you afraid to
intrust with words ? In what way have I any interest in de-
ceiving 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 1
Dav. Why should I not?
Geta. Well, and his son Phsedria ?
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 Lem-
nos, 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.
* Ready counted out) — ^Ver. 53, "Lectum," literally "picked out" or
"chosen" — the coins being of full weight.
308 PHORMIO;OR, [Act I.
Dav. To one who had so much property, thjit 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.^ I began to oppose them at first ; hut
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.2 I began to do every thing for them that they wished
to be liumored in.
Dav. You knew how to make your market.-^
Geta. Our young fellow did no mischief whatever at first ;
that Phoedria 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,* and to escort her back
again. We, having nothing to do, lent our aid to Phfedria.
Near the school at which she was taught, right opposite the
' Have been angry icith vie) — Ver. 74. He alludes to the common be-
lief that each person had a Genius or Guardian Deity ; and that when
misfortune overtook him, he had been abandoned by his Genius.
^ 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."
2 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.
* 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 Gyrene hither. A certain
Athenian youth, a citizen of this city, beheld her as she was going home
from the music-school."
Sc. II.] THE SCHEMING PAEASITE. 309
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 ;^ 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 la-
menting 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 extin-
guished 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
liarents: 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 yoxdh was at a loss what to do.
He was both eager to marry her, and he dreaded his absent
father.
- Young man in tears) — Ver. 92. In the Play of ApoUodorus, 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 cere-
monies in mourning among the Greeks. Donatns remarks, that Ter-
ence altered this circumstance that he might not shock a Eoman audi-
ence by a reference to manners so different from their own.
310 PHORMIO; OR, [Act I.
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 ob-
scure 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 con-
found him !
Dav. What has he done ?
Geta. He has given this piece of advice, whicli 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^ against you ; Pll 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 Pll 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. Ho was persuaded to this. It was carried out ;
they came vito 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, Pll 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 for-
give 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 /or my parV
Dav. What of the one who was usher to the Music-girl 1"^
^ Take out a summons) — Ver. 127. "Dica" was the writ or summons
with which an action at law was commenced.
' Usher to the Music-girl) — Ver. 144. This is said satirically of
Sc. III.] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 311
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, hut 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, ivho carries it into Demipho's
house and exit Geta.)
Scene IH.
Enter Antipho and Ph^deia.
Ant. That things should have come to such a pass, Pha?-
dria, that I should be in utter dread of my father, who wishes
mo 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.
Ph^d. 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 Ph^dkia).
Ph^d. I hear you.
Phjedria, who was in the habit of escorting the girl to the music-school.
It was the duty of the " psedagogi," or " tutors," to lead the children to
school, who were placed under their care. See the speech of Lydus,
the pgedagogus of Pistoclerus, in the Bacchides of Plautus, Act iii. So.
3, where, enlarging upon his duties, he mentions this among them.
312 PHORMIO ; OR, [Act I.
Ant. While I am every moment expecting his return, who
is to sever from me this connection J
Ph^d. 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. vSo 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, Phaidria, you now seem to
me the fortunate man, who still have the liberty, without re-
straint, of resolving on what pleases you best : whether to keep,
to love on, or to give her up. I, unfortunately, have got my-
self into that position, that I have neither right^ 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 in-
stantly 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
^ Sever from, me this connection) — Ver. IGl. By forcing him to divorce
her.
^ 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.
Sc. IV. J THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 313
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 Ph^dria.) 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.
Ajrt'. (to Pii^DKiA.) 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.^ 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 Fii^DRi A.) I wonder what running away or theft
it is that he's planning.
Geta (to himself) But wliere shall I find Antipho, or
which way go look for him ?
Pii^D. (to Antipho.) He's mentioning your name.
Ant. (to Ph^dkia.) I know not what great misfortune I
expect to hear from this messenger.
PiiyED. (to Antipho.) Wh.y, are you in your senses?
Geta (to himself) I'll make my way homeward ; he's gen-
erally there.
PiiiED. (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.
' Be ivashing a hrickhat) — Ver. 187. " Laterem lavare," " to wash a
brick," or "tile," was a proverb sis^nifying labor in vain, probably be-
cause (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 waslied away the brick and soiled hfs own
fingers.
o
314 PHORMlOjOK, [Act I.
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 !
PiiiED. Pshaw!
Ant. What am I to do 1
Pii^D. {to Geta.) What is it you say?
Geta. That I have seen his father, your uncle.
Ant. Plow 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.
Gp:ta. But just now it is especially necessary you should
be so, Antipho ; for if your father perceives that you arc
alarmed, he will think that you have been guilty of some
fault.
Pn^:i). 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, Phoedria, let's be gone ;
why do we waste our time here to no purpose. I shall be
off.
Ph^d. 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. {Assum-
ing a different air.) Will that do %
Geta. No.
Ant. Well, will this ? {Assuming another air.)
Geta. Pretty well.
Sc. v.] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 315
Ant. Well then, this? (Assuming a still holder 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 % (Looldng earnest-
ly 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 go-
ing, Antipho? Stop, I tell you.
Ant. I know my own self and my offense ; to your man-
agement I trust Phanium and my own existence.
(Exit hastily.
Scene V.
I'li^DRiA and Geta.
Ph^d. 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, Phsedria.
Ph^d. 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 ?
Ph^d. 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.
PuiED. I'll use my best endeavors.
Geta. Do you then accost him first; I'll be here in re-
serve,^ by way of reinforcement, if you give ground at all.
Ph^d. Very well. (They retire to a distance.)
^ Here in reserve) — Ver. 230. " Succenturiatus." The "succentu-
riati" were, properly, men intrusted to fill up vacancies in the centuries
or companies, when thinned by battle.
3 1 6 PIIORMIO ; OR, [Act I.
Scene VI.
Enter Demipiio, at the other side of the stage.
Dem. {to himself.) And is it possible that Antiplio has
taken a wife without my consent? and that no authority of
mine — but let alone " authority"^ — 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 !
Get A {apart to Ph^dria.) 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 obHge him to do that as well ?
Geta {apart) That is a hard hloio.
Piled. 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 af-
fairs are the most prosperous,^ then in especial to reflect
within themselves in what way they are to endure adversity.
Keturning 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
^ Let alone ^^ authority'^) — Ver. 232. " Ac mitto impcrium." Cicero
has quoted this passage in his Epistles to Atticus, B. ii. Ep. 19.
- 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.
Sc. VL] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 317
Geta {apart.) O Phaedria, 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? (Pii^dria goes
forward to accost Demipiio.)
Dem. {to himself.) I sec Fha^Jria, my brother's son, coming
toward me.
PiiyED. My uncle, welcome !
Dem. Greetings to you ; but where is Antipho 1
Pii^D. That you have arrived in safety
Dem. I believe it ; answer my question.
Piled. He is well ; he's close at hand ; but is every thing
quite to your wishes ?
De3I. I wish it was so, indeed.
PiT^D. What's the matter?
Dem. Do you ask me, Phasdria ? You people have cooked
up a fine marriage in my absence.
Piled. What now, arc you angry with him for that ?
Geta {apart.) What a clever contriver !
De3I. Have I not reason to be angry with him ? I long
for him to come into my sight, that he may know that
through liis faultiness, from being a mild father, I am become
a most severe one.
Pii^D. But he has done nothing, uncle, for which you
should blame him.
Dem. Now, do look at that; all alike; all hanging to-
gether ; when you know one, you know all.
PriiED. That is not the case.
Dem. When the one is in fault, the other is at hand to de-
fend 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 ex-
actly described their proceedings.
Dem. For if it had not been so, you would not, l^hxdria,
have stood up for him.
Pn^.D. If, uncle, it is tlie fact, that Antiplio lias been
318 PHORMIO; OR, [Act I.
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 (ajmrt.) Unless I knew the case, I could fancy lie
was saying the truth.
Dem. Is there any judge who can possibly know ycitr
rights, when you yourself don't answer a word — as he has
done?
Pii^D. He acted the part of an ingenuous yomig 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 foricard 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, 1 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 af-
fair? The laws do not allow a person who is a slave to
plead ; nor is there any giving evidence^ 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 ;2 she could have looked out
for another husband. Why, then, in preference, did he bring
a pauper home ?
' Any giving evidence) — Ver. 293. Slaves were neither allowed to plead
for themselves, nor to give evidence. See the Curculio of Plautus, 1.
G21, and the Notes to the Andria.
^ Given her a portion) — Ver. 297. By this remark, Donatus observes
that Terence artfully pre])arcs ns for the imposition of Phorniio, who
extorts money from the old ijcntleman on this vcrv gi-onnd.
Sc. VII.] THE SCHEMING rAUASITE. 319
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. ^
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 ?2
Geta. I'll have him here immediately.
Dem. Where is Antipho at present ?
Geta. Away from home.
Dem. Go, Phtedria, look for him, and bring him here.
Ph^d. I'll go straightway to the place.
Geta (aside.) To Pamphila, you mean.
{Exeunt PiiiEDRiA and Geta.
Scene VII.
Demipho, alo7ie.
Dem. {to himself.) Ill just step home to salute the house-
hold Gods.3 From there, I'll go to the Forum, and sum-
^ While you were living) — Yer. 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 orLajtorian 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.
* The ivoviarCs next friend) — Ver. 307. The " patronus" was the per-
son who undertook to conduct a lawsuit for another.
^ 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 Am-
phitryon of Plautus, Jupiter, while personating Amphitryon, pretends,
in 1. 983, that he is going to offer sacrifice for his safe return.
320 PHORMIO ; OK, [Act II.
mon some of my friends to give me their assistance in this af-
fair ; so that I may not be unprepared, when Phormio comes.
(Goes info his house.)
ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.
Enter Phormio a?id Geta.
Phor. And so you say^ 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 ;2 it must all be swal-
lowed 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.
1 And so you say) — Ver. 315. Donatus tells tlie following story with
reference to this passage : " This Play being once rehearsed before Ter-
ence and some of his most intimate acquaintances, Ambivius, who act-
ed the part of Phormio, came in drunk, which threw the author into a
violent passion ; but Ambivius had scarcely repeated a few lines, stam-
mering and scratching his head, before Terence became pacified, de-
claring that when he was writing these very lines, he had exactly such
a Parasite as Ambivius then represented, in his thoughts."
" Have hashed it ?/;>) — Ver, 318. He is thought to allude here, figura-
tively, to the com])Osition 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 m.ortar. The allu-
sion to eating is appropriately used in an address to a Parasite.
Sc. I.] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 321
PiiOR. {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?
PnoK. What would you have me? But that Flianium
may continue ivith him^ and that I may clear Antipho from
this charge, and turn upon myself ^ 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.'-^
PiiOR. 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,^
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.
^ Turn upon myself) — Ver. 323. Donatus observes that in this Scene
Terence exhibits the lower order of Parasites, who ingratiated them-
selves by sharping and roguery, as in the Eunuchus he describes Para-
sites of a higher rank, and of a newer species, who obtained their ends
by flattery.
^ 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.
" Nervns" 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.
^ 7^hei/ lolll take you) — Ver. 334. At Rome, insolvent debtors became
t!;e slaves of their creditors till their debts were paid.
02
322 PHORMIO; OR, [Act IL
Geta. It's impossible that sufficient thanks can be returned
you by him for your kindness.
Phor. Wliy no ; no person can return thanks sufficient to
his patron^ for his kindness. For you to take your place at
tahle at free cost,'^ 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,3 take the higher place; a banquet full of doubts^ is
placed before you
Geta. What is the meaning of that expression ?
PiiOR. When you are in doubt which in especial to par-
take of. When you enter upon a consideration how delicious
these things are, and how costly they are, the person who pro-
vides them, must you not account him a very God — neitlier
more nor less ?
Gp:ta. 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, PIegio, 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.
^ To his patron) — Ver. 338. "Regi." The Parasites were in the
habit of calhng their patron "Rex," their "King."
^ 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, whicli is still
preserved.
3 First to drink) — Yer. 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.
* Banquet full of doubts) — Ver. 312. "Coina diibia." Horace, who
borrows mnn}^ of his phrases from Terence, uses the same expression.
Sc. 11.] THE SCHEMING TARASn E. 323
Phor. (ajxirt.) Do you mind your cue ; I'll rouse him just
now. {Steiyjniig forward and cnjincj 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.)
Phok. {to Geta.) And that he knows who her father
was ?
Geta. He does deny it.
PiiOK. And that he knows who Stilpho was ?
Geta. He does deny it.
Phok. Because the po^ 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 mas-
ter 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 %
Phok. For really, I have no reason why I should be of-
fended 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 fiither 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.
Phok. {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?
Phok. 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 per-
verter of the laws !
Deji. {calling aloud.) Geta !
324 PHORMIO; OR, [Act II.
Phor. {apart, in a low voice.) Answer him.
Geta. Who is it? (Looking j^ound.) Oh!
Dem. Hold your peace.
Geta. lie has never left off uttering abuse against you be-
hind your back, unworthy of you, and just befitting himself.
Dem. Well now, have done. (Addressing 'Fuoii:!,no.) 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.
PiiOR. (sneeringhj.) You are fishing it out, just as if you
didn't know.
Dem. I, knoAV? %
. PiioR. Yes.
Dem. T say I do not; you, who affirm it, recall it to my
recollection.
PiiOR. Come now, didn't you know your own cousin-ger-
nian ?
Dem. You torture me to death ; tell me his name.
PiiOR. His name?
Dem. Of course. (Piiormio hesitates.) Why are you silent
now ?
PiioR. (aside.) Iloavcns, I'm undone ; I've forgot the
name.
Dem. Well, what do you say ?
PiiOR. (aside, to Geta.) Geta, if you recollect the name I
told you a short time since, prompt me. (Aloud, to Demipiio.)
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 (ivhispering to Piiormio.) 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
til at name.
PiiOR. 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 memorv, to trace
Sc. IL] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 325
your line of kindred, even as far back as from grandfather and
great-grandfather.
Dem. Very likely what yon 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 ! {Threateninghj
to PiiORMio.) 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.
PiiOK. 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^ here, and arc 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 mina).
PiiOR. [laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! a pleasant individual !
Dem. Well ! am I asking any thing unfair "l Or am I not
to obtain even this, which is my right at common law?
PiTOR. 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 citi-
zen 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 pre-
vent.
Dem. Yes, to her nearest relative, indeed; but why to us,
or on what ground ?
PnOK. Well, well, a thing tried, they say, you can't tiy
over again.
Dem. Not try it? On the contrary, I shall not desist until
I have gone through with it.
PiiOR. You arc trifling.
' Since you reign alone) — Ver. 605. This is a remark Avell put into the
mouth of an Athenian, as the pubhc were very jealous of any person
becoming paramount to the laws, and to prevent it, were frequently
guilty of the most odious oppression.
326 PHOKMIO; OH, [Act II.
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 forbid-
ding 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 Pjiormio.) 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. Keally, 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.
DEjnPHO, 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 wlmt his
Sc. III.] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 327
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, Plegio.
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 re-
dress. 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 ;"^ every
one his own v/ay. It doesn't appear to me that what has been
done by law cafn be revoked ; and it is wrong to attempt it.
Dem. Speak, Crito.
Chit. I am of opinion that we must deliberate furthei- y-
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^ than before.
^ ^S'o viariy minds) — Yer. 454. "Quot homines, tot sentential." This
is a famous adage. One similai' to the succeeding one is found in the
Second Eclogue of Virgil, 1. Qo : " Trahit sua quemque voluptas," ex-
actly equivalent to our saying, " Every man to his taste."
^ Mttst deliberate further) — Yer. 457. " Amplius deliberandum." This
is probably a satirical allusion to the judicial system of jn-ocrastination,
which, by the Romans, was called " ampliatio." When the judges could
not come to a satisfactory conclusion about a cause, they signified it bv
the letters N. L. (for "non liquet," "it is not clear"), and put off the
suit for a rehearing.
' Much more at a loss) — Yer. 459. See the Poenulus of Plautus, where
advocates or assistants are introduced among the Dramatic Personam.
Colman has the following remarks on this quaint passage: "I believe
there is no Scene in Comedy more highly seasoned with the ridiailous
than this before us. The idea is tnily 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 himsielf 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
328 PHORMIO; OR, [Act II.
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 in-
quiry 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 mdre 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 hav-
ing thus gone away.
Ant. You are the veiy 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 inter-
ests 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!
of Comedy, Plautus or Moliere, 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."
Sc. v.] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 320
Geta. But Phasdria 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 fa-
ther 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 Pha^dria.
Ant. Where is he, pray ?
Geta. See, he's coming from his place of exercise. ^
Scene V.
Enter from DoRio's house, Doixio, followed hy Pii^dria.
Pii^D. Prithee, hear me, Dorio.
DoK. ril not hear you.
PHuED. Only a moment.
Dor. Let me alone.
Ph^d. Do hear what I have to say.
Dor. Why really I am tired of hearing the same thing a
thousand times over.
Ph^d. But now, I have something to tell you that you'll
hear with pleasure.
Dor. Speak then; I'm listening.
* From his place of exercise) — ^Ver. 484. "Palasstra." He alludes to
the Procurer's house under this name.
330 PHORMIO ; OR, [Act II.
PHiED. Can I not prevail on you to wait for only three
days? Whither are j'^ou going now?
Dor. I was wondering if you had any thing new to oiFer.
Ant. {apart, to Geta.) I'm afraid for this Procurer, lest —
Geta {apart, to Antipho.) Something may befall his own
safety.^
Ph^d. You don't believe me ?
Dor. You guess right.
ViiMD. But if I pledge my word.
Dor. Nonsense!
Ph^d. You will have reason to sa}^ that tliis kindness was
well laid out by you on interest.
Dor. Stuff!
PriyED. Believe me, you Avill be glad you did so ; upon my
faith, it is the truth.
Dor. Mei^e dreams !
Ph^d. Do but try ; the time is not long.
Dor. The same story over again.
Puii^D. You ivill he my kinsman, my father, my friend;
you
Dor. Now, do prate on.
PiiiED. For you to be of a disposition so harsh and inexor-
able, that neither by pity nor by entreaties can you be soft-
ened !
Dor. For you to be of a disposition so unreasonable and
so unconscionable, Phcedria, that you can be talking me over-
with fine words,^ and be for amusing yourself with what's my
property for nothing !
Ant. {apart, to Geta.) I am sorry for him.
Ph^d. {aside.) Alas ! I feel it to be too true.
Geta {apart, to Antipho.) How well each keeps up to his
character !
^ Befall his own safety) — Ver. 490. Overhearing Pheedria earnest and
determined, and the Procurer obstinate and inflexible, Antij^ho and
Geta join in apprehending that the brutaUty of the latter may provoke
Phffldria to some act of violence.
2 With fine words) — Ver. 499. " Phalei'atis dictis." "Phalera?" Avere,
properly, the sih'er 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 charac-
ters as Dorio.
Sc. v.] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 331
Ph^d. {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 Pheedria, why, what is the mat-
ter %
Pii/ED. O most fortunate Antipho !
Ant. What, I ?
Ph^d. 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 cars ;^ 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
PHiEDRIA).
Ant. {to DoRio.) Aye, aye, don't you show too little of the
Procurer. (To Piijsdria.) What has he been doing?
ViiMD. What, he? Acting the part of a most inhuman
fellow ; been and sold my Pamphila.
Geta. What! Sold her?
Ant. Sold her, say you?
Piled. Sold her.
Dor. {ironically.) AVhat a shocking crime — a wench bought
with one's own money!
Pn^ED. 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 prom-
ised 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. Mei'e 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.
' A wolf by the ears) — Ver. 505. A proverbial expression which,
according to Suetonius, was frequently in the mouth of Tiberius
Cicsar.
332 PHORMIO ; OK, [Act JI.
Geta. May all the Gods grant you what you are deserving
of!
DoK. 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.
Ph^d. It is the fact.
Dor. Do I deny it ?
Ant. Is that day past, tlicn ?
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 !
Pii^D. 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 Ph^dria)
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 sup-
posed 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, Phoedria, I'll follow my rule, that he
is the first served who is the first to pay. Farewell! {Goes
into his Jiouse.)
Scene YI.
PiijEDRiA, Antipho, and Geta.
Pitted. What am I to do ? Wretch that I am ! where am
I now in this emergency to raise the money for Iiim, /, 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 men-
tioning? On the contrary, why not, as there's need cf it, try
to do him a kindness in return?
.So. VI.] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 333
Get A. For my part, rm sure it is hut 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^ 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 seeldng risk
upon risk "?
Ant. 'Tis true what he says.
FniED.. What ! am I a stranger to you, Geta ?
Geta. I don't consider you so. But is it so trifling a mat-
ter that the old gentleman is now vexed with us all, that
we must provoke him still more, and leave no room for en-
treaty'?
PiiJiD- Is another man to take her away from before my
eyes to some unknown spot ? Alas ! speak to me then, Anti-
pho, and look upon mo while you. have the opportunity, and
while I'm present.
Ant. Why so, or what arc you going to do? Pray, tell
me.
Pii^D. To whatever part of the Avorld 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
* A icord to the leise) — Ver. 540. " Dictum sapienti sat est." The
same proverb is found in the Pcrsa of Plantus, 1. 736.
334 PHORMIO; OR, [Act III.
Ant. Don't be afraid: together with you, we'll share good
and bad.
Geta {to Ph^dria.) How much money do you want?
Tell me.
Ph^d. Only thirty minas.
Geta. Thirty ? Heyday ! she's monstrous dear, Phasdria.
Ph^d. Indeed, she's very cheap.
Geta. Well, well, PU get them for you.
Ph^d. Oh the dear man ! {They hoth fall to hugging
Geta.)
Geta. Take yourselves oif. {Shakes them off.)
Ph^d. 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 o/Demipiio.)
PiiiED. What way will you manage this ?
Geta. I'll tell you on the road ; first thing, betake your-
self oif. {Exeunt.
ACT THE THIRD.
Scene I.
Unter- DEmrno 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
Sc. II.] THE SCHEMING FAKASITE. 3b5
suit with my delays, they told me that she, with all her fami-
ly, 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 ivas it ?
Chrem. Do you ask me? Old age itself is a malady.
However, I heard that they had arrived safe, from the cap>
tain 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 witli
me by marriage, he will hold his tongue, just as long as gopd
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 onl^ remains for me to shake
myself 1 and leave the house ; for I'm the only one I can rely
on at home. 2
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. 1 came to the fellow to tell him that money
^ 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.
^ 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.
S'JG PHORMIO ; OR, [Act III.
was needed, and by what means it might be procured. Hard-
ly 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 afford-
ed him for showing himself no less a friend to Phaedria 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? Pleyday, Phaidria'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 Kt^twiio 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 Chromes.
CiiREM. Save you, Geta.
Geta. I'm delighted to see you safe returned.
Chrem. I believe you.
Geta. How go matters ?
CiiREM. Many changes here upon my arrival, as usually
the case.
Geta. True; have you heard what hasjiappened to An-
tipho?
ClIREM. All.
Geta {to Demipho.) What, have you told him? Disgrace-
ful 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.
Sc. III.] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 337
Dem. What is the remedy ?
Geta. When I left you, by accident Phormio met me.
CiiREM. Who is Phormio ?
Geta. Pie who patronized her.
CiiREM. I understand,
Geta. It seemed to me thnt 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 ? J/?/ 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 instant-
ly out of doors."
Ant. [apart.) What is he about? Or where is this to end
at last ?
Geta {continuing the supposed conversation) " PIc'U 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 sup-
pose he's beaten ; still, however, it's not his life, but his mon-
ey that's at stake." After I found that the fellow was influ-
enced by these words, I said : " We are now by ourselves here ;
come now, what should you like to be given you, money down,
to drof this suit with my master, so tliat she may betake her-
self off, and you annoy us no more ?"
Ant. {apart.) Are the Gods quite on good terms with
him?i
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! •
Ciirem. Go on with your story.
Geta. At first the fellow raved.
Dem. Say, what did he ask?
Geta. What ? A great deal too much.
' Good terms ivith him) — Ver. G35. Meaning, "Is he in his senses or
not?"
338 PHORMIOjOB, [Act III.
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 : " Praj," said /, " 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 an-
swer : " 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 oflf 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?^
GeTxV. His land is mortgaged, — for ten minaj he said.
Dem. Well, well, let him take her then ; I'll give it.
Geta. He has a house besides, mortgaged for anotfier ten.
Dem. Huy, buy ! 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-
against me ; I shall give nothing at all ; is this dirty fellow to
be laughing at me as well?
^ Amount of Ms life) — Ver. 660. " Quid si animam debet?" Erasmus
1 .tils 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.
^ Six hundred actions) — Ver, 667. " Sescentos ;" literally, "six hun-
dred." The Romans used this term as we do the words *'tcn thou-
sand," to signify a large, but indefinite number.
Sc. IV.] THE SCHEMING FAKASITE. 339
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 oiF; 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 oiF the match ivith 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 forivard.) 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 an-
swer to what I don't ask you ? {Kicks him.)
Geta. What was it then tl^it you did ask ?
Ant. What was it I did ask ? Through your agency, mat-
ters 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
340 PHORMIO; OR, [Act III.
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 hj 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, lie' 11 prefer going to
prison.
Geta. There is nothing, Antipho, but vrhat 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, slic must be taken as his wife, you say ;
I grant you ; still, some time at least will be allowed for pre-
paring for the nuptials, for inviting, and for sacrificing. In
the mean time, Phcedria's friends will advance what they have
promised ; out of that he will repay it.
Ant. On what g\;ounds? Or what will he say?
Geta. Do you ask the question? "How many circum-
stances, since then, have befallen me as prodigies ? A strange
black dog^ entered the house ; a snake came down from the
tiles through the sky-light;^ a hen crowed ;3 the soothsayer
forbade it ; the diviner^ warned me not : besides, before win-
ter 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 Phaidria tliat the money is
found.
^ A strange black dog) — Ver. 705. This omen, Plautus calls, in the
Casina, 1. 937, "canina scteva."
^ Through the sky-light') — Ver. 706. So in the Amphitryon of Plautus,
1. IIO81 two great snakes come down through the "impluvium," or
"sky-light." Oil the subject of the " impluvium," see the Notes to the
Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, 1. 159.
3 A hen crowed) — Yer. 707. Dontitus tells us that it was a saying,
that in the house where a hen crowed, the wife had the upper hand.
* The soothsayer — the diviner) — Ver. 708. According to some ac-
counts there was this difference between the "hariolus" and the " arus-
pex," 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.
Sc. v.] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 341
Scene Y.
Enter Demipiio and Ciiremes, 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.
CiiREM. {to Demipiio.) 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 W'C 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
^ve 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 ?
CiiREM. 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 slie has been turned out of doors.
Dem. I can do all that myself.
CiiREM. It will come better from one woman to another.
Dem. I'll ask her. {Goes into the house of Ciiremes; and
exit Geta.)
Chrem. {to himself.) I'm thinking where I can find them
now.^
^ Can find them now) — Ver. 720. His Lemnian v/ife 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 Fhanium is made at a very proper time."
342 PHORMIO ; OE, [Act III.
Scene VI.
Enter SoPimoNA/rom the house o/'Demipho, at a distance.
Soph, {to herself.) AVhat am I to do ? What friend, in my
distress, shall I find, to whom to disclose these plans; aYid
where shall I look for relief? For I'm afraid that my mis-
tress, 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 com-
pelled 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.
CiiijEM. {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. ^
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. {apaj% 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.
1 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.
I
So. VI.] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 343
Soph. Do you deny it ?
Chrem. {ill a low voice.) Step a little this way from that
door, Sophrona, if you please (pointing). Don't you, hence-
forth, 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 oivn 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?^
Soph. Ah, wretched me!
Chrem. Plah! What's the matter"? Are they still alive?
Soph. Your daughter is alive. Pier poor mother died of
grief.
Chrem. An unfortunate thing !
Soph. As for me, being a lone old woman, in want, and
vinknown, I contrived, as well as I could, to get the young
woman married to the young man who is niaster 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 rela-
tive?
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
Where are the ladies?) — Ver. 748. "Ubi ilia)?" literally, "Where
are these women ?"
344 PHORMIO ; OK, [Act IV.
to hope for? On my return, I have found my daughter match-
ed with the very person I wished, and just as I wanted ; a thing
that we were both using our endeavors, with the greatest earn-
estness, to bring about. Without any very great management
on our part, by her own management, she has by herself
brought this about.
Sopii. Now consider what's to be done. The young man's
father has returned, and they say that he bears this with feel-
ings highly offended.
CnEEM. There's no danger of that. But, by Gods and men,
do take care that no one comes to know that she's my dauo^h-
ter.
Soph. No one shall know it from me.
Chrem. Follow me ; in-doors we'll hear the rest. {lie goes
into Demipho's house, folloived by Sophkona.)
ACT THE FOUETII.
Scene I.
Enter Demipho and Geta.
Dem. 'Tis caused by our own fault, that it is advantageous
to be dishonest ; while we Avish ourselves to be styled very hon-
est and generous. *' So run away as not to run beyond the
house," ^ 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 iiiecc of roguery ?
^ Run beyond the house) — Ver, 7G7. " Fugias nc pnviter casnm." 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 aban-
don 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."
Sc. II.] THE SCHEMING PAKASITE. 345
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
lliat Nausistrata is about to visit her. (DESiirJio r/ocf: i/i/o the
houf^e of Ciii:p:3IES.)
Scene II.
Geta, alone.
Geta. The money's been got for Phasdria ; it's all hushed
about the lawsuit; due care has been taken that she's not
to leave for the present. AVhat next, then? What's to be
done? You are still sticking in the mud. You are paying
by borrowing;^ 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.^ {Goes into the house of
Demipho.)
' Paying hy lorrowing) — Vcr. 779. " Versnra solvere," was "to pay
a debt by borrowing money," and consequently to be no better otFthan
before. Geta having, by the money he has procured, freed Pha;dria
from all danger of losing his mistress, but at the same time having
brought Antipho into still greater danger of losing his wife.
- Or his talking)— Vex. 782. "Ejus" here alludes, not to TS[ausistrata
but to Phormio. Madame Dacier suggests that it should be ' ' hujus."
P2
346 PHORMIO; OB, [Act IV.
Scene III.
Enter Demipho and Nausistrata, frmn the house of
Chremes.
Dem. Gome now, Nausistrata, after your usual way, man-
age 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^ 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 ^mrZ^; there's an instance, how superior one man is
to another.
Dem. Two talents, pray?
Naus. A^je, 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 com-
ing out of your house.
^ Witkyotir money) — Ver. 785. Colman obsen'es: "Alluding to the
money borrowed of her to pay Phormio ; and as Donatus obser\^es in
another place, it is admirably contrived, in order to bring about a hu-
morous catastrophe that Chremes should make use of his wife's money
on this occasion.'
Sc. IV.] THE SCHEMING PARA.SITE. 347
Scene IV.
Enter Chremes, hastily, from Demipho's house.
Chrem. Ha! Demipho, has the money been paid him
yet?
Dem. I took care immediately.
CiiREM, I wish it hadn't been paid him. {On seeing Nau-
siSTRATA, 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.
De3I. What say you? Have you been letting her know
why we are going to bring her ? (jmnting 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 ran-
dom ; 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 anothe'r
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 ivhat 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.
348 PHORMIO; OR, [Act IV.
CiiREM. {lohiqiering 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).
Chkem. (stojyping 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 w^ith our friend's^ daughter?
CiuiEM. She'll do well enough.
Dem. Are we to drop her, then ?
CiiiiEM. Why not ?
Dem. The other one to stop ?
Chrem. Just so.
Dem. You may go then, Nausistrata.
Naus. r faith, I think it better for all that she should re-
main 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.
Demipiio 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
1/OU.
Dem. Well then, step in-doors.
Chrem. Hark you, I don't wish our sons even to come to
know of this. {Thei/ go into Demipho's house.)
^ Our friend's) — Ver. 811. Chremes himself is so called, to deceive
Nausistrata.
Sc. VII.] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 349
Scene VI.
Enter Antipiio.
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 /or 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, / 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 oppor-
tunity he would recommend me to take for meeting my
father?
Scene VII.
Enter Piiormio, at a distance.
PiiOR. {to himself.) I received the money; handed it over
to the Procurer ; brought away the woman, that Phredria
might liave her as his own — for she has 7iow become free.
Now tliere 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 vj^ to him.) What have
you to say ?
PiiOK. About what?
Ant. Why — what's Phoedria 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. 'Wh^i part?
Phor. To run away from his father; he begs that you i:i
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.
3DJ PHORMIO ; OR, [Act IV.
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.
Fhor. It's Geta.
Scene VIII.
Enter Geta, at a distance, hastily, from the house of
DEanPHO.
Geta {to himself) 0 fortune! O good luckl^ 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^ over my
shoulder {throws it over his shoulder), and making haste to find
him, that he may know what has happened.
Ant. {apart to Phokmio.) Do you understand what he's
talking about ?
PiiOR. {apart to Antipiio.) Do you ?
Ant. {apart to Piiormio.) 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 oc-
casion 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.
^ 0 good luck) — Vcr. 840. 'Tors fortuna," "good fortune;" while
" fortuna" merely means " chance."
=^ Throwing viy cloak) — Ver. 843. When expedition was required, it
was usual to throw the ends of the "pallium," or "cloak," over the
shoulders.
Sc. VIII.] THE SCHEMING PABASITE. 351
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 1
Geta. O being most blessed of all men living ! For with-
out question, Antipho, you are the only favorite of the Gods.
Ant. So I could wish; but I should like to be told why
Tm 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?
PnoR. I am : but ivhy 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 wo-
man'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 {shoivs 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.
352 PHORMIO; OR, [Act IV., Sc. IX.
PiiOR. 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 under-
stand every thing that passed between them within "?
Ant. On my faith, I too have heard the same storj'.
Geta. Aye, and I'll give you still further reason for believ-
ing 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. Whv then carry me off^ at once; — why do you de-
lay ?
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 oppor-
tunity for diddling the old men, and ridding Pha^dria 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 fo)^ good,
whether they like it or not : how to force them to this, I've
Ibund 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
1 Carry me off)—Ycv. 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 Acry
diverting to the Audience. On this, Colman ohserves: "I helievo
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 Lc
trne."
ActV., Sc.L] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 353
out of doors. I sha'n't go to the fair, where I pretended I was
going. {He retires into the alley.)
ACT THE VIFTIL
Scene 1.
iiJ/i fcr' Demipiio and Chkemes, //•o?rt 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 minse, so
that we may get them from him.
Enter Piior^niio, coming forward, and speaUng aloud, as though
not seeing them.
PiiOK. ni go see if Demipho's at home ; that as to
what^
Dem. (accosting him.) Why, Phormio, we were coming to
you.
Phor. Perhaps about the very same affair. (Demipiio nods
assent.) T faith, I thought so. What were you coming to
my house for? Eidiculous; 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.
Ciirem. (to Demipiio.) Is she not genteel-looking,^ just as
I told you ?
^ That as to loliai) — ^\''er. 898. Lemaire suggests that lie i.i about to
say: "that as to what was agreed upon between us, 1 may take home
this young woman, and make her my wife."
^ Is she not genteel-lookinrj) — Yer. 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 daugfhter, 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 faA'orable, and
naiurally puts this paternal question to him."
354 PHORMIO ; OR, [Act V.
Dem. Very much so.
PiiOK. And this is what I'm come to tell you, Demipho,
that I'm quite ready ; Avhenever yoa 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. {iwinting to Cukemes.) 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 j^ourself, some little time since, were urging to me.
PiiOR. Upon my faith, you are treating me in a very in-
sulting manner.
Dem. How so ?
PiiOR. 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?
Ciikem. 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 ac-
count,^ 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 prom-
ised, 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 swag-
gering, you vagabond. What, then, do you fancy we don't
know you, or your doings?
* 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 A^naria
of riautuB, 1. 445, seems to have the same meaning.
I
Sc. I.] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 355
PaoR. 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 tliat you say !
Dem. Then do you give me my money ?
PiiOR. Nay, but do you give me my wife ?
Dem. Come before a magistrate. {Gomg 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,^ I'm
in the habit of heing so as well.
Chrem. What's that to us?
Phor. {icith a careless air.) Nothing at all. I know a cer-
tain lady here (loointing at Chre^ies's house) whose husband
had .
Chrem. {starting.) Ha!
Dem. AVhat's the matter ?
Phor. Another wife at Leranos
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 PnoRivno.) 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
' For the well portioned) — ^Ver. 939. Though Colman thinks other-
wise, it is pretty clear that he aUudes to Nausistrata in these words.
356 PHORMIO; OR, [Act V.
speeches — "I won't, and I will; I -svill, and I won't," over
again : " keep it, give it me back ; what has been said, is un-
said ; what had been just a bargain, is now no bargain."
CriREM. (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 tokl it to no
one, I know for certain.
CriREM. (aside.) So may the Gods bless me, 'tis as good as
a miracle.
PnOR. (aside, to himself.) I've graveled them.
Dem. (apart, to Ciiremes.) "Well now, is he to be carrying
off ^ 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 possi-
bly conceal it from your wife; it is then more conducive to
our quiet, Chremes, ourselves to disclose Avhat she will be
hearing from others ; and then, in our own fashion, we shall
be able to take vengeance upon this dirty fellow.
PiiOR. (aside, to liimself.) Good lack-a-day, void's the stick-
ing-point, if I don't loolc out for myself They are making
toward me with a gladiatorial air.
Chrem. (apart, to Demipho.) But I doubt whether it's pos-
sible 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 and gone^ by whom you had this girk
PiiOR. (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 (p)ointing 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,
^ To he carrying off) — Ver. 054. Patrick has the followinj; note here :
" The different characters of the two brotliers 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."
2 Dead and gone) — Ver. ^:)Qi>. "E medio excedere," was an Euphe-
mism signifying "to die," which it was deemed of ill omen to mention.
Be. l: the scheming parasite. 357
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 trans-
ported hence to some desolate land at the public charge ?
CiiKE^r. (aside.) I am brought to such a pass, that I really
don't know what to do in it.
Dksi. I know ; let's go into court.
Piioii. Into court ? Here i}i iireference (jwinting to Ciire-
MEs's house), if it suits you in any way. (Moves toward the
house.)
Dem. (to CiiKEMES.) Follow him, and hold him back, till I
call out the servants.
Ciirem. (ti-ying to seize Piiormio.) But I can't by myself;
run and help me.
PiiOR. (to Demipiio, ivho seizes hold of him.) There's one
action of damages against you.
CiiPvEM. Sue him at law, then.
PiiOR. And another with you, Cliremps.
Dem. Lay hold of him. (They both drag him.)
PiiOE. Is it thus you do? Why then I must exert my
voice : Nausistrata, come out (calling aloud).
CiiKEM. (to De:\iipiio.) Stop his mouth.
Dem. See how strong the rascal is.
PnoR. (calling aloud) Nausistrata, I say.
Ciirem. Will you not hold your tongue '?
PiiOR. Hold my tongue ?
Dem. (to CiiRE]MEs, 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 fidl revenge on you.
■
358 PHOKMIO ; OK, [Act V.
Scene II.
Enter Nausistrata, in haste, from the house.
Naus. Who calls my name ?
Chrem. (m alarm.') Ha !
Naus. My husband, pray what means this disturbance ?
PiiOR. {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.
CiiREM. {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 Cihiemes.) 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?
Sc. II.J THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 359
Dem. {to PiiORMio.) 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, Pm 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 Ciiremes.) It's all up luith you.
Phor. Was ever any thing now more ungenerously done ?
Your men, who, when they come to their v/ives, 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. Where-
fore, 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, afflict-
ed 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 oiFend 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^ a mind to come
' Those who Imve) — Yer. 1025. He here uses the terms which it v/as
360 PHORMIO; OR, [Act V.
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^ 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
cars.
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 treat-
ment ?
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 ?
Piioii. (aside.) But really, before she grants pardon to him,
I must take care of myself and Phcedria. (To Nausistkata.)
Hark you, Nausistrata, before you answer him without think-
ing, listen to me.
Naus. What's the matter ?
Phor. I got out of him thirty minns by a stratagem. I
give them to your son ; he paid them lo a Procurer for his
mistress.
CiiiiEM. Ha! what is it you say?
PiiOR. (sneering!?/.) Does it seem to you so very im-
proper for your son, a young man, to keep one mistress,
tvhile 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,
customary to employ in the celebration of a public funeral. See also
the form of proclaiming an auction, at the end of the Menachmi of
Plautus.
2 Have him victimized) — Ver. 1027. " Mactatus" was the term applied
to the pouring of wine and frankincense on the victim about to be sacri-
ficed, on which it was said to be "magis auctus," " increased," or "am-
plified ;" which, in time, became corrupted into the word " mactatus,"
or "mactus."
Sc. II.] THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 361
before I see my son : to his decision I leave every thing.
What he bids me, I shall do.
Dem. You are a vv^ise woman, Nausistrata.
Naus. Does that satisfy you, Chremes ?
Chrem. Yes, indeed, I come off well, and fully to my satis-
faction ; 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 Phredria in par-
ticular.
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 vex-
ation ?
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 Phcedria, our arbi-
trator ?
Phor. I'll have him here just now. {To the Audience.)
Fare you well, and grant us your applause.^
^ 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.
Q
362 PHORmO; OR,
Additional Scene.
( Which is generally considered to he spuriuuj. )
A'nter Ph^dria and Piiormio, from opposite sides of the stage.
Pn^D. 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."
PiiOR. (aside.) Heyday! what means this? I've met
Avith Socrates, not Phtedria, so far as I see. Why hesi-
tate to go up and address him? {Accosting him.) How
now, Phasdria, whence have you acquired this new wisdom,
and derived such great delight, as you show by your counte-
nance ?
PiiiED. O welcome, vi?/ 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.
Pii^D. Aye, faith, I have to beg of you, that you will list-
en to it. My Pamphila is a citizen of Attica, and of noble
birth, and rich.
PiiOR. What is it you tell me? Arc you dreaming,
pray ?
PHiED. Upon my faith, Pm 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.""
Pii^D. Nay, but do listen, I beg of you, to all the won-
derful things I have to tell you of. It was while thinking
of this to myself, that I just now burst forth into those ex-
pressions 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.
PiiiED. Do you know Phanocrates ?
Phor. As well as / do yourself.
Ph^:d. The rich man ?
THE SCHEMING PAEASITE. 363
PnoR. I understand.
PiiiED. He is the fatlicr of Pamphila. Not to detain you,
tliese 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, iJien five years old, and, secretly taking her
with him to Euba^a, 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 at-
tended and trained up by female servants : the name of her
parents she didn't recollect.
Phok. How, then, were they discovered ?
PiiiED. 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.
PiiOR. O, how extremely fortunate !
PuiED. Phanocrates has no objection to my marrying her ;
nor has my father, I imagine.
Phor. Trust me for that ; Til have all this matter man-
aged for you ; Phormio has so arranged it, that you shall not
be a suppliant to your father, but his judge.
Ph^d. You are joking.
Phor. So it is, I tell you. Do you only give me the thirty
minse which Dorio
PHiED. You put me well in mind ; I understand you ; you
may have them ; for he must give them back, as the law for-
bids 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, Phsedria, 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 wdth 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.
364 PHORMIO; OR, THE SCHEMING PARASITE.
Ph^d. Services badly bestowed, I take to be disservices.
But I do not know any person more grateful and more mind-
ful of a service than yourself. What is it you were just now
mentioning about my father ?
Ppior. There are many particulars, which at present I have
not the opportunity to relate. Let's go in-doors, for Nausis-
trata has invited me to dinner, and I'm afraid we may keep
them waiting.
Ph^d. Very well; follow me. {To the Audience.) Fare
you well, and grant us your applause.
THE
COMEDIES
OF
TERENCE.
TSANSLATED INTO
FAMILIAR BLANK VERSE,
BY GEORGE COLMAN.
Primores popnli airipuit populumqiie tributim :
Scilicet uni asquus virtuti atque ejus ainicis.
Quiu ubi se a vulgo et seen a in secreta remorant
Virtus Scipiada? et mitis sapientia Lteli,
Nugari cum illo et discincti ludere, donee
Decoqueretur olus, soliti.
HOEAOH.
THE ANDRIAN.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Prologue.
SiMO.
Pamphilus.
Chremes.
charinus.
Crito.
SOSIA.
Davus.
Byrrhia.
Dromo.
Servants, etc.
Glycerium.
Mysis.
Lesbia.
Archyllis.
Scene, Athens.
PROLOGUE.
The Bard, when first he gave his mind to write,
Thought it his only business, that his Plays
Should please the people : but it now falls out,
He finds, much otherwise, and wastes, perforce,
His time in wi-iting Prologues; not to tell
The argument, but to refute the slanders
Broach'd by the malice of an older Bard.
And mark what vices he is charg'd withal!
Menander wrote the Andrian and Perinthian :
Know one, and you know both ; in argument
Less diff'rent than in sentiment and style.
What suited with the Andrian he confesses
From the Perinthian he transferr'd, and us'd
Eor his: and this it is these sland'rers blame,
Proving by deep and learned disputation.
That Fables should not be contaminated.
Troth! all the knowledge is they nothing know:
Who, blaming him, blame Na;vius, Plautus, Ennius,
Whose great example is his precedent ;
Whose negligence he'd wish to emulate
Rather than their dark diligence. Henceforth,
Let them, I give them v/arning, be at peace,
And cease to rail, lest they be made to know
Their own misdeeds. Be favorable! sit
With equal mind, and hear our play; that hence
Yo may conclude, what hope to entertain.
The comedies he may hereafter write
Shall merit approbation or contempt.
368 THE ANDKIAN. [Act I.
ACT THE FIEST.
Scene I.
SiMO, SosiA, and Servants with Provisions.
SiMo. Carry those things in: go! {Exit Servants.
Sosia, come here ;
A word with you !
Sosia. I understand: that these
Be ta'en due care of.
SiMo. Quite another thing.
Sosia. What can ray art do more for you?
SiMO. This business
Needs not that art ; but those good qualities,
Which I have ever known abide in you,
Fidelity and secrecy.
Sosia. I wait "
Your pleasure.
SiMO. Since I bought you, from a boy
How just and mild a servitude you've pass'd
With me, you're conscious : from a purchas'd slave
I made you free, because you serv'd me freely:
The greatest recompense I could bestow.
SosiA. I do remember.
SiMo. Nor do I repent.
SosiA. If I have ever done, or now do aught
That's pleasing to you, Simo, I am glad.
And thankful that you hold my service good-
And yet this troubles me : for this detail,
Forcing your kindness on my memory,
Seems to reproach me of ingratitude.
Oh tell me then at once, what would you? Sir!
Simo. I will ; and this I must advise you first ; .
The nuptial you suppose preparing now,
Is all unreal.
Sosia. Why pretend it then ?
Simo. You sliall hear all from first to last: and thus
The conduct of my son, my own intent.
And what })art you're to act, you'll know at once.
For my son, Sosia, now to manhood groAvn,
Had freer scope of living : for before
How might you know, or how indeed divine
His disposition, good or ill, while youth,
Fear, and a master, all constrain'd him ?
Sosia. True.
Simo. Though most, as is the bent of youth, apply
Their mind to some one object, horses, hounds,
Or to the study of philosophy ;
Sc. I.] THE ANDRIAN. 369
Yet none of these, beyond the rest, did he
Pursue ; and yet, in moderation, all.
I was o'erjoy'd.
SosiA. And not without good cause.
For this I hold to be the Golden Rule
Of Life, too much of one thing's good for nothing.
SiMO. So did he shape his life to bear himself
With ease and frank good-humor unto all ;
Mix'd in what company soe'er, to them
He wholly did resign himself; and join'd
In their pui-suits, opposing nobody,
Nor e'er assuming to himself: and thus
With ease, and free from envy, may you gain
Praise, and conciliate friends. %•
SosiA. He rul'd his life
By prudent maxims : for, as times go now,
Compliance raises friends, and truth breeds hate.
SiMO. MeanAvhile, 'tis now about three years ago,
A certain woman from the isle of Andros,
Came o'er to settle in this neighborhood,
By poverty and cruel kindred driv'n :
Handsome and young.
SosiA. Ah ! I begin to fear
Some mischief from this Andrian.
SiMo. At first
Modest and thriftily, though poor, she liv'd,
With her own hands a homely livelihood
Scarce earning from the distaff and the loom.
But when a lover came, with prbmis'd gold,
Another, and another, as the mind
Falls easily from labor to delight.
She took their offers, and set up the trade.
They, who were then her chief gallants, by chance
Drew thither, as oft happen with young men
My son to join their company. So, so !
Said I within myself, he's smit ! he has it !
And in the morning as I saw their servants
Run to and fro, I'd often call, here, boy !
Prithee now, who had Chrysis yesterday ?
The name of this same Andrian.
SosiA. I take you.
SiMO. Phgedrus they said, Clinia, or Niceratus,
For all these three then follow' d her. — Well, well,
But what of Pamphilus ? — Of Pamphilus !
He supp'd, and paid his reck'ning. — I was glad.
Another day I made the like inquiry.
But still found nothing touching Pamphilus.
Thus I believ'd his virtue prov'd, and hence
Thought him a miracle of continence :
For he who struggles with such spirits, yet
Holds in that commerce an unshaken mind,
Q2
370 THE ANDRIAN. [Act I
May well be trusted with the governance
Of his own conduct. Nor was I alone
Delighted with his life, but all the world
"With one accord said all good things, and prais'd
My happy fortunes, who possess'd a son
So good, so lib'rally disposed. — In short
Chremes, seduc'd by this fine character,
Came of his own accord, to offer me
His only daughter with a handsome portion
In marriage with my son. I lik'd the match ;
Betroth'd my son ; and this was pitch'd upon,
By joint agreement, for the wedding-day.
SosiA. And what prevents it's being so?
SiMO. I'll tell-'you.
In a few days, the treaty still on foot,
This neighbor Chrysis dies.
SosiA. In happy hour :
Happy for you! I was afraid of Chrysis.
SiMO. My son, on this event, was often there
"With those who were the late gallants of Chrysis;
Assisted to prepare the funeral,
Ever condol'd, and sometimes wept with them.
This pleas' d me then ; for in myself I thought,
Since merely for a small acquaintance-sake
He takes this woman's death so nearly, what
If he himself had lov'd ? What would he feel
For me, his father ? All these things, I thought,
"Were but the tokens and the offices
Of a humane and tender disposition.
In short, on his account, e'en I myself
Attend the funeral, suspecting yet
No harm.
SosiA. And what — >
SiMO. You shall hear all. The Corpse
Borne forth, we follow : when among the women
Attending there, I chanc'd to cast my eyes.
Upon one girl, in form
SosiA. Not bad, perhaps
SiMO. And look ; so modest, and so beauteous, Sosia !
That nothing could exceed it. As she seem'd
To grieve beyond the rest; and as her air
Appear'd more liberal and ingenuous,
I went and ask'd her women who she was.
Sister, they said, to Chrysis : when at once
It struck my mind ; So ! so ! the secret's out ;
Hence were those tears, and hence all that compassion!
Sosia. Alas ! I fear how this affair will end !
SiMo. Meanwhile the funeral proceeds : we follow ;
Come to the sepulchre : the body's plac'd
Upon the pile, lamented : whereupon
This sister I was speaking of, all Avild,
Sc. I.] THE ANDRIAN. 371
Ean to tlic Hames with peril of her life.
Then ! there ! the frighted Pamphilus betrays
His well-dissembled and long-hidden love :
Euns up, and takes her round the waist, and crie^
Oh my Glycerium! what is it you do?
Why, why endeavor to destroy yourself?
Then she, in such a manner, that you thence
Might easily perceive their long, long, love,
Threw herself back into his arms, and wept,
Oh how familiarly!
SosiA. How say you!
SiMO. I
Return in anger thence, and hurt at heart,
Yet had no cause sufficient for reproof.
What have I done ? he'd say ; or how deserv'd
Reproach? or how offended, Father? — Her
Who meant to cast herself into the flames,
I stopped. A fair excuse!
SosiA, You're in the right ;
For him, who sav'd a life, if you reprove.
What will you do to him that offers wrong?
SiMO. Chremes next day came open-mouth'd to me:
Oh monstrous ! he had found that Pamphilus
Was married to this stranger woman.
Deny the fact most steadily, and he
As steadily insists. In short we part
On such bad terms, as let me understand
He would refuse his daughter.
SosiA. Did not you
Then take your son to task?
SiMO. Not even this
Appear 'd sufficient for reproof.
SosiA. How so?
SiMO. Father, (he might have said) You have, you know,
Prescrib'd a term to all these things yourself.
The time is near at hand, when I must live
According to the humor of another.
Meanwhile, permit me now to please my own !
SosiA. What (ftiuse remains to chide him then? ^
SiMO. If he ^
Refuses, on account of this amour.
To take a wife, such obstinate denial
Must be considered as his first offense.
Wherefore I now, tVoin this mock-nuptial.
Endeavor to draw real cause to chide :
And that same rascal Davus, if he's plotting.
That he may let his counsel run to waste,
Now, when his knaveries can do no harm :
Who, I believe, with all his might and main
Will strive to cross my purposes ; and that
More to plague me, than to oblige my son.
372 THE ANDRIAN. [Act I.
SosiA. Why so ?
SiMo. Why so! Bad mind, bad heart: But if
I catch him at his tricks!-— But what need words?
— If, as I wish it may, it should appear
That Pamphilus objects not to the match,
Chremes remains to be prevail'd upon.
And will, I hope, consent. 'Tis noAV your place
To counterfeit these nuptials cunningly ;
To frighten Davus; and observe my son,
What he's about, what plots they hatch together.
SosiA. Enough ; I'll take due care. Let's now go in !
SiMO. Go first : I'll follow you. {Exit Sosia.
Beyond all doubt
My son's averse to take a wife: I saw
How frighten'd Davus was, but even now,
When he was told a nuptial was preparing.
But here he comes.
Scene II.
Enter Davus.
Davus (to himself^. I thought 'twere wonderful
If this affair went off so easily ;
And dreaded where my master's great good-humor
Would end at last: who, after he perceiv'd
The Lady was refus'd, ne'er said a word
To any of lis, nor e'er took it ill.
"SiMO {behind). But now he will ; to your cost too, J war-
rant you !
Davus. This was his scheme ; to lead us by the Rv^se
In a false dream of joy ; then all agape
With hope, even then that Ave were most secure,
To have o'erwhelm'd us, nor have giv'n us time
To cast about which way to break the match.
Cunning old Gentleman !
SiMO. What says the rogue?
Davus. My master and I did not see him!
^ SiMo. Davus! •
Davus. Well ! what now ? {Pretending not to see him.)
SiMO. Here ! this way !
Davus. What can he want? {To himself.)
SiMO {overhearing). What say you ?
Davus. Upon what? Sir.
SiMO. Upon what!
The world reports that my son keeps a mistress.
Davus. Oh, to be sure, the world cares much for that-
SiMO. D'ye mind what I say? Sirrah!
Davus. Nothing more. Sir.
SiMo. But for me now to dive into these matters
May seem pcrliaps like too severe a father:
Sc. III.] THE ANDRIAN. 373
For all his youthful pranks concern not me.
While 'twas in season, he had my free leave
To take his swing of pleasure. But to-day
Brings on another stage of life, and asks
For other manners : whei-efore I desire.
Or, if you please, I do beseech you, Davus,
To set him right again.
Davus. What means all this?
SiMO. All, who are fond of mistresses, dislike
The thoughts of matrimony.
Davus. So they say.
SiMO. And then, if such a person entertains
An evil counselor in those affairs.
He tampers with the mind, and makes bad worse.
Davus. Troth, I don't comprehend one w^ord of this.
SiMo. No?
DA^^JS. No. I'm Davus, and not CEdipus.
SiMO. Then for the rest I have to say to you,
You choose I should speak plainly.
Davus. By all means.
SiMO. If I discover then, that in this match
You get to your dog's tricks to break it oiF,
Or try to show how shrewd a rogue you are,
I'll have you beat to mummy, and then thrown
^ In prison. Sirrah ! upon this condition,
' That when I take you out again, I swear
To grind there in your stead. D'ye take me now?
Or don't you understand this neither?
Davus. Clearly.
You have spoke out at last : the very thing !
Quite plain and home ; and nothing round about.
SiMO. I could excuse your tricks in any thing,
Rather than this.
Davus. Good words! I beg of you.
SiMO. You laugh at me : well, well ! — I give you warning
That you do nothing rashly, nor pretend
You was not advertis'd of this — take heed ! {Exit.
Scene III.
Davus.
Troth Davus, 'tis high time to look about you;
No room for sloth, as far as I can sound
The sentiments of our old gentleman
About this marriage, which if not fought off,
And cunningly, spoils me, or my poor master.
I know not what to do ; nor can resolve
To help the son, or to obey the father.
If I desert poor Pamphilus, alas !
I tremble for his life ; if I assist him,
374 THE ANDRIAN. [Act I.
I dread his father's threats: a shrewd old Cuff,
Not easily dcceiv'd. For first of all,
He knows of this amour ; and watches me
With jealous eyes, lest I devise some trick
To break the match. If he discovers it,
Woe to poor Davus! nay, if he's inclin'd
To punish me, he'll seize on some pretense
To throw me into prison, right or wrong.
Another mischief is, this Andrian,
Mistress or wife, 's with child by Pamphilus.
And do but mark their confidence! 'tis sure
The dotage of mad people, not of lovers.
Whate'er she shall bring forth, they have resolv'd
To educate: and have among themselves
Devis'd the strangest story ! that Glycerium
Is an Athenian citizen. "There was
Once on a time a certain merchant, shipwreck'd
Upon the isle of Andros ; there he died :
And Chrysis' father took this orphan-wreck,
Then but an infant, under his protection."
Ridiculous ! 'tis all romance to me :
And yet the story pleases them. And see !
My sis comes forth. But I must to the Forum
To look for Pamphilij^, for fear his father
Should find him first, and take him unawares.
Scene IV.
Enter Mysis. {Speaking to a servant within^
• I hear, Archyllis ; I hear what you say:
You beg me to bring Lesbia. By my troth
That Lesbia is a drunken wretch, hot-headed,
Nor worthy to be trusted with a woman
In her first labor. Well, well ! she shall come.
— Observe how earnest the old gossip is, (Coming forward)
Because this Lesbia is her pot-companion.
— Oh gi-ant my mistress, Heav'n, a safe delivery,
And let the midwife trespass any where
Eather than here ! — But what is it I see ?
Pamphilus all disorder'd: How I fear
The cause! I'll wait a while, that I may know
If this commotion means us any ill.
Scene V.
Pamphilus, Mysis behind.
Pam. Is this well done ? or like a man ? — Is this
The action of a father?
Mysis. What's the matter?
Sc. v.] THE ANDRIAN. 375
Pam. Oh all ye pow'rs of heav'n and earth, what's wrong
If this is not so? — If he was determin'd
That I to-day should marry, should I not
Have had some previous notice? — ought not he
To have inform'd me of it long ago ?
Mysis. Alas ! what's this I hear ?
Pajm. And Chremes too,
Who had refus'd to trust me with his daughter,
Changes his mind, because I change not mine.
Can he then be so obstinately bent
To tear me from Glycerium ? To lose her
Is losing life. — Was ever man so cross'd.
So curs'd as I ? — Oh pow'rs of heav'n and earth I
Can I by no means fly from this alliance
With Chremes' family? — so oft contemn'd
And held in scorn ! — all done, concluded all ! —
Rejected, then recall'd: — and why? — unless,
For so I must suspect, they breed some monster,
Whom as they can obtrude on no one else.
They bring to me.
Mysis. Alas, alas ! this speech
Has struck me almost dead with fear.
Pam. And then
My father I — what to say of him ? — Oh shame !
A thing of so much consequence to treat
So negligently ! — For but even now
Passing me in the forum, Pamphilus !
To-day's your wedding-day, said he : prepare ;
Go, get you home ! — This sounded in my ears
As if he said, go, hang yourself! — I stood
Confovmded. Think you I could speak one word?
Or offer an excuse, how weak soe'er?
No, I was dumb : — and had I been aware.
Should any ask what I'd have done, I would,
Rather than this, do any thing. — But now
What to resolve upon? — So many cares
Entangle me at once, and rend my mind.
Pulling it diff'rent ways. My love, compassion.
This urgent match, my rev'rence for my father,
Who yet has ever been so gentle to me.
And held so slack a rein upon my pleasures.
— And I oppose him ? — Racking thought ! — Ah me !
I know not what to do.
Mysis. Alas, I fear
Where this uncertainty will end. 'Twere best
He should confer with her; or I at least
Speak touching her to him. For while the mind
Hangs in suspense, a trifle turns the scale.
Pam. Who's there ? what, Mysis ! Save you !
Mysis. Save you! Sir. {Coming forward.)
Pam. How does she?
376 THE ANDRIAN. [Act I., Sc. V.
Mysis. How ! oppress'd with wretcliedness.
To-day supremely wretched, as to-day
Was formerly appointed for yom* wedding.
And then she fears lest you desei't her.
Pam. I!
Desert her ? Can I think on't ? or deceive
A wretched maid ! who trusted to my care
Her life and honor. Her whom I have held
Near to my heart, and cherish'd as my wife ?
Or leave her modest and well nurtur'd mind
Through want to be corrupted? Never, never.
Mysis. No doubt, did it depend on you alone;
But if consti'ain'd
Pam. D'ye think me then so vile?
Or so ungrateful, so inhuman, savage,
Neither long intercourse, nor love, nor shame,
Can make me keep my faith ?
Mysis. I only know
That she deserves you should remember her.
Pam, I should remember her? Oh, Mysis, Mysis!
The words of Chrysis touching my Glycerium
Are written in my heart. On her death-bed
She call'd me. I approach'd her. You retir'd.
We were alone ; and Chrysis thus began :
My Pamphilus, you see the youth and beauty
Of this unhappy maid : and well you know,
These are but feeble guai'dians to preserve
Her fortune or her fame. By this right hand
I do beseech you, by your better angel,
By your tried faith, by her forlorn condition,
I do conjure you, put her not away,
Nor leave her to distress. If I have ever,
As my own brother, lov'd you ; or if she
Has ever held you dear 'bove all the world,
And ever shown obedience to your will
I do bequeath you to her as a husband,
Friend, Guardian, Father: all our little wealth
To you I leave, and trust it to your care.
She join'd our hands, and died. — I did receive her,
And once receiv'd will keep her.
Mysis. So we trust.
Pam. What make you from her?
Mysis. Going for a midwife.
Pam. Haste then ! and hark, be sure take special heed,
You mention not a word about the marriage,
Lest this too give her pain.
Mysis. I understand.
Act II., Sc. II.] THE ANDKIAN. 377
ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.
Charinus, Byerhia.
Char. How, Byrrhia? Is she to be married, say you,
To Pamphilus to-day ?
Byr. 'Tis even so.
Char. How do you know?
Byr. I had it even now
From Davus at the Forum.
Char. Woe is me !
Then I'm a wretch indeed : till now my mind
Floated 'twixt hope and fear: now, hope remov'd,
Stunn'd, and o'ervvhelm'd, it sinks beneath its cares.
Byr. Nay, prithee master, since the thing you wish
Can not be had, e'en wish for that which may !
Char. I wish for nothing but Philumena.
Byr. Ah, how much wiser were it, that you strove
To quench this passion, than, with words like these
To fan the fire, and blow it to a flame ?
Char. How readily do men at ease prescribe
To those who're sick at heart! distress'd like me,
You would not talk thus.
Byr. Well, well, as you please.
Char. Hal I see Pamphilus. I can resolve
On any thing, e'er give up all for lost.
Byr. What now?
Char. I will entreat him, beg, beseech him.
Tell him our course of love, and thus, perhaps,
At least prevail upon him to defer
His marriage some few days : meanwhile, I hope,
Something may happen.
Byr. Aye, that something's nothing.
Char. Byrrhia, what think you? Shall I speak to him?
Byr. Why not ? for though you don't obtain your suit,
He will at least imagine you're prepar'd
To cuckold him, in case he marries her.
Char. Away, you hang-dog, with your base suspicions !
Scene II.
Enter Pamphilus.
Pam. Charinus, save you !
Char. Save you, Pamphilus !
Imploring comfort, safety, help, and counsel,
You see me now before voii.
378 THE ANDKIAN. [Act II.
Pam. I do lack
Myself both help and counsel — But what mean you ?
Char. Is this your wedding-day?
Pam. Aye, so they say.
Char. Ah, Pamphilus, if so, this day
You see the last of me.
Pam. How so ?
Char. Ah me !
I dare not speak it : prithee tell him, Byrrhia.
Byr. Aye, that I will.
Pam. What is't?
Byr. He is in love
"With your bride, Sir.
Pam. r faith so am not I.
Tell me, Charinus, has aught further passed
'Twixt you and her?
Char. Ah, no, no.
Pam. Would there had !
Char. Now by our friendship, by my love I beg
You would not marry her.
Pam. I will endeavor.
Char. If that's impossible, or if this match
Be grateful to your heart
Pam. My heart !
Char. At least
Defer it some few days ; while I depart,
That I may not behold it.
Pam. Hear, Charinus ;
It is, I think, scarce honesty in him
To look for thanks, who means no favor. I
Abhor this marriage, more than you desire it.
Char. You have reviv'd me.
Pa3I. Now if you, or he.
Your Byn'hia here, can do or think of aught;
Act, plot, devise, invent, strive all you can
To make her yours ; and I'll do all I can
That she may not be mine.
Char. Enough.
Pam. I see
Davus, and in good time : for he'll advise
What's best to do.
Char. But you, you sorry rogue, {To Byrrhia)
Can give me no advice, nor tell me aught,
But what it is impertinent to know.
Hence, Sirrah, get you gone!
Byr. With all my heart. {Exit.
ScEKE in.
Enter Davus hastily.
Dayus. Good Heav'ns, what news I bring I what joyful news !
Sc. III.] THE ANDRIAN. 379
But where shall I find Pamphilus, to drive
His fears away, and make him full of joy ?
Char. There's something pleases him.
Pam. No matter what.
He has not heard of our ill fortune yet.
Davus. And he, I warrant, if he has been told
Of his intended wedding
Char. Do you hear?
Davus. Poor soul, is running all about the tOAvn
In quest of me. But whither shall I go? ,
Or which way run ?
Char. Why don't you speak to him ?
Davus. I'll go.
Pam. Ho I Davus ! Stop, come here !
Davus. Who calls?
0, Pamphilus ! the very man. — Heyday !
Charinus too! — Both gentlemen, well met!
I've news for both.
Pam. I'm ruin'd, Davus.
Davus. Hear me!
Pam. Undone!
Davus. I know your fears.
Char. My life's at stake.
Davus. Yours I know also.
Pam. Matrimony mine.
Davus. I know it.
Pam. But to-day.
Davus. You stun me; plague!
I tell you I know ev'ry thing: you fear (To Charinus.)
You should not marry her. — You fear you should. ( To Pam.)
Char. The very thing.
Pam. The same.
Davus. And yet that same
Is nothing. Mark!
Pam. Nay, rid me of my fear.
Davus. I will then. Chremes
Won't give his daughter to you.
• Pam. How d'ye know ?
Davus, I'm sure of it. Your Father but just now
Takes me aside, and tells me 'twas his will
That you should Aved to-day ; with much beside,
Which now I have not leisure to repeat.
1, on the instant, hastening to find you.
Run to the Forum to inform you of it :
There, failing, climb an eminence, look round:
No Pamphilus : I light by chance on Byrrhia ;
Inquire ; he hadn't seen you. Vex'd at heart,
What's to be done ? thought I. Returning thence
A doubt arose Avithin me. Ha! bad cheer.
The old man melancholy, and a wedding
Clapp'd up so su'ddenly! This don't agree.
380 THE ANDRIAN. [Act IL
Pam, Well, what then ?
Davus. I betook me instantly
To Chromes' house ; but thither when I came,
Before the door all hush. This tickled me.
Pam. You're in the right. Proceed.
Davus. I watch'd a while :
Meantime no soul went in, no soul came out ;
No matron ; in the house no ornament ;
No note of preparation. I approach' d,
, Look'd in
Pam. I understand : a potent sign!
Davus. Does this seem like a nuptial?
Pam. I think not,
Davus.
Davus. Tldnk not, d'ye say ? you don't conceive :
The thing is evident. I met beside.
As I departed thence, with Chremes' boy,
Be0.ring some pot-herbs, and a pennyworth
Of little fishes for the old man's dinner.
Char. I am deliver'd, Davus, by your means,
From all my apprehensions of to-day.
Davus. And yet you are undone.
Char. How so? Since Chremes
Will not consent to give Philumena
To Pamphilus.
Davus. Ridiculous ! As if.
Because the daughter is denied to him.
She must of course wed you. Look to it well ;
Court the old Gentleman through friends, apply,
Or else
Char. You're right : I will about it straight,
Although that hope has often fail'd. Farewell. (Exit.
Scene IV.
Pam. What means my father then ? Why counterfeit ?
Davus. That I'll explain. If he were angry now,
Merely that Chremes has refus'd his daughter.
He'd think himself in fault ; and justly too,
Before the bias of your mind is known.
But granting you refuse her for a wife.
Then all the blame devolves on you, and then
Comes all the storm.
Pam. What course then shall I take?
Shall I submit
Davus. He is your Father, Sir,
Whom to oppose were difficult ; and then
Glycerium's a lone woman ; and he'll find
Some course, no matter what, to drive her hence.
Pam. To drive her hence?
Davus. Directly.
Sc. IV.] THE ANDRIAN. 381
Pam. Tell me then,
Oh tell me, Davus, what were best to do ?
Davus. Say that you'll marry !
Pam. How!
Davus. And where's the harm ?
Pam. Say that I'll marry!
Davus. Why not?
Pam. Never, never.
Davus. Do not refuse !
Pam. Persuade not!
Davus. Do but mark
The consequence.
Pam. Divorcement from Glycerium.
And marriage with the other.
Davus. No such thing.
Your father, I suppose, accosts you thus.
Td have you wed to-day ; — / will, quoth you :
"What reason has he to reproach you then ?
Thus shall you baffle all his settled schemes,
And put him to confusion ; all the while
Secure yourself: for 'tis beyond a doubt
That Chremes will refuse his daughter to you ;
So obstinately too, you need not pause.
Or change these measures, lest he change his mindj
Say to your father then, that you will wed,
That, with the will, he may want cause to chide.
But if, deluded by fond hopes, you cry,
"No one will wed their daughter to a rake,
A libertine." — Alas, you're much deceiv'd.
For know, your father will redeem some wretch
From rags and beggary to be your wife.
Rather than see your ruin with Glycerium.
But if he thinks you bear an easy mind,
He too will grow indifF'rent, and seek out
Another match at leisure ; the mean while
Affairs may take a lucky turn.
Pam. D'ye think so?
Davus. Beyond all doubt.
Pam. See, what you lead me to.
Davus. Nay, peace!
Pam. I'll say so then. But have a care
He knows not of the child, which I've agreed
To educate.
Davus. O confidence!
Pam. She drew
This promise from me, as a firm assurance
That I would not forsake her,
Davus. We'll take care.
But here's your father: let him not perceive
You're melancholy.
I
382 THE ANDRIAN. [Act IL
Scene V.
Enter Simo at a distance.
SiMO. I return to see
What they're about, or what they meditate.
Davus. Now is he sure that you'll refuse to wed.
From some dark corner brooding o'er black thoughts
He comes, and fancies he has fram'd a speech
To disconcert you. See, you keep your ground'.
Pam. If I can, Davus.
Davus. Trust me, Pamphilus,
Your father will not change a single word
In anger with you, do but say you'll wed.
Scene VI.
Enter Btrriiia behind.
Btr. To-day my master bade me leave all else
For Pamphilus, and watch how he proceeds,
About his marriage ; wherefore I have now
Followed the old man hither : yonder too
Stands Pamphilus himself, and with him Davus.
To business then!
Simo. I see them botli together.
Davus. Now mind. {Apart to Pam.)
Simo. Here, Pamphilus!
Davus. Now turn about,
As taken unawares. {Apart.)
Pam. Who calls? my father! {Apart.)
*SiMO. It is my pleasui-e, that to-day,
As I have told you once before, you marry.
Davus. Now on our part, I fear what he'll reply. {Aside.]
Pam. In that, and all the rest of your commands,
I shall be ready to obey you, Sir !
Byr. How's that! {Overhearing.)
Davus. Struck dumb. {Aside.)
Btr. What said he? {Listening.)
Simo. You perform
Your duty, when you cheerfully comply
With my desires.
Davus. There! said I not the truth? {Apart to Pam.)
Byr. My master then, so far as I can find,
May whistle for a wife.
SiMQ. Now then go in
That when you're wanted you be found.
Pam. I go. {Exit.
Byr. Is there no faith in the affairs of men?
'Tis an old saying and a tnie one too;
" Of all mankind each loves himself the best."
Sc. VII,] THE /VNDRIAN. 383
I've seen the lady; know her beautiful;
And therefore sooner pardon Pamphilus,
If he had rather win her to his arms,
Than yield her to th' embraces of my master.
I will go bear these tidings, and receive
Much evil treatment for my evil news. (Exit.
Scene VII.
Manent Simo and Davus.
Davus. Now he supposes I've some trick in hand,
And loiter here to practice it on him!
Simo. Well, what now, Davus ?
Davus. Nothing.
Simo. Nothing, say you ?
Davus. Nothing at all.
Snio. And yet I look'd for something.
Davus. So, I perceive, you did: — Thi^ nettles him.
(Asid''.)
Simo. Can you speak truth?
Davus. Most easily.
Simo. Say then.
Is not this wedding irksome to my son,
From his adventure with the Andrian?
Davus. No faith; or if at all, 'twill only be
Two or three days' anxiety, you know;
Then 'twill be over: for he sees the thing
In its true light.
Simo. I pi'aise him for't.
Davus. While you
Restrain'd him not ; and while his youth allow'd
'Tis true he lov'd; and even then by stealth,
As wise men ought, and careful of his fame. ^
Now his age calls for matrimony, now *
To matrimony he inclines his mind.
Simo. Yet, in my eyes, he seem'd a little sad.
Davus. Not upon that account. He has he thinks
Another reason to complain of you.
Simo. For what?
Davus. A trifle.
Simo. Well, what is't?
Davus. Nay, nothing.
Simo. Tell me, what is't?
Davus. You are then, he complains,
Somewhat too sparing of expense.
Smo. I?
Davus. You.
A feast of scarce ten Drachms? Does this, says he.
Look like a wedding-supper for his son ?
What friends can I invite? especially
384 THE ANDRIAN. [Act HI.
At such a time as this? — and, truly, Sir,
You have been very frugal ; much too sparing.
I can't commend you for it.
SiMO. Hold your peace.
Davus. I've ruffled him. (Aside.)
SiMO. I'll look to that. Away ! (Exit Davus.
What now? What means the varlet? Precious rogue,
For if there's any knavery on foot.
He, I am sure, is the contriver on't. (^Exit,
ACT THE THIRD.
Scene I.
Snio, Davus, coming out of Simo's house. — Mtsis, Lesbia,
golny towai'd the house of Glycekium.
Mysis. Aye, marry, 'tis as you say, Lesbia:
Women scarce ever find a constant man.
SiMO. The Andrian's maid-servant! Is't not?
Davus. Aye.
Mysis. But Pamphilns
SiMO. What says she? {Overhearing.)
Mysis. Has been true.
SiMO. How's that? {Overhearing.)
Davus. Would he were deaf, or she were dumb! (^Aside.)
Mysis. For the child, boy, or girl, he has resolv'd
To educate.
SiMO. O Jupiter! what's this
I hear? If this be true, I'm lost indeed.
Lesbia. A good young Gentleman!
Mysis. Oh, very good.
But in, in, lest you make her wait.
Lesbia. I follow. (Exeunt Mysis and Lesbia.
Scene II.
Manent Simo, Davus.
Davus. Unfortunate! What remedy! (Aside.^
Simo. How's this? (To himself.)
And can he be so mad? What! educate
A harlot's child! — Ah, now I know their drift;
Fool that I was, scarce smelt it out at last.
Davus (listening). What's this he says he has smelt out?
Slmo. Imprimis, (To himself)
'Tis this rogue's trick upon me. All a sham :
A counterfeit deliv'ry, and mock labor,
Devis'd to frighten Chremes from the match.
So. IV.] THE ANDRIAN. 385
Gly. (within). Juno Lucina, save me ! Help, I pray thee.
SiMO. Heyday ! Already ! Oh ridiculous !
Soon as she heard that I was at the door
She hastens to cry out: your incidents
Are ill-tim'd, Davus.
Davus. Mine, Sir?
SiMO. Are your players
Unmindful of their cues, and want a prompter?
Davus. I do not comprehend you.
SiMO (apart.) If this knave
Had, in the real nuptial of my son,
Come thus upon me unprepar'd, what sport,
What scorn he'd have exposed me to? But now
At his own peril be it. I'm secure.
Scene III.
He-enter Lesbia. — Archyllis appears at the door.
Lesbia to Archyllis (loithin). As yet, Archyllis, all the
symptoms seem
As good as might be wish'd in her condition :
First, let her make ablution : after that.
Drink what I've order'd her, and just so much :
And presently I will be here again. (Coming forward.')
Now, by this good day, Master Pamphilus
Has got a chopping boy : Heav'n grant it live !
For he's a worthy Gentleman, and scorn'd
To do a wrong to this young innocent. (^Exit.
Scene IV.
SiMo. This too Where's he that knows you would not swear
Was your contrivance ?
Davus. My contrivance ! what. Sir ?
SiMo. While in the house, forsooth, the midwife gave
No orders for the Lady in the straw:
But having issued forth into the street.
Bawls out most lustily to those within.
— Oh Davus, am I then so much your scorn ?
Seem I so proper to be play'd upon.
With such a shallow, barefac'd, imposition?
You might at least, in reverence, have us'd
Some spice of art, wer't only to pretend
You fear'd my anger, should I find you out.
Davus. F faith now he deceives himself, not I. (Aside.')
SiMO. Did not I give you warning? threaten too,
In case you play'd me false? But all in vain:
For what car'd yoii ? — What ! think you I believe
This story of a child by Pamphilus ?
Davus. I see his error: Now I know my game. (Aside.')
SiMO. Why don't vou answer?
R
386 THE ANDRIAN. [Act III.
Bavus. What! you don't believe it!
As if you had not been informed of this ? {Archly.')
SiMO. I been inform'd?
Davus. "What then you found it out ? {Archly.)
SiMO. D'ye laugh at me?
Davus. You must have been inform'd :
Or whence this shrewd suspicion ?
SiMO. Whence ! from you :
Because I know you.
Davus. Meaning, this was done
By my advice ?
SiMO. Beyond all doubt ; I know it :
Davus. You do not know me, Simo.
SiMO. I not know you ?
Davus. For if I do but speak, immediately
You think yourself impos'd on.
Simo. Falsely, hey ?
Davus. So that I dare not ope my lips before you.
SiMO. All that I know is this ; that nobody
Has been deliver'd here.
Davus. You've found it out ?
Yet by-and-by they'll bring the bantling here,
And lay it at our door. Kemember, Sir,
I give you warning that will be the case ;
That you may stand prepar'd, nor after say,
'Twas done by Davus's advice, his tricks!
I would fain cure your ill opinion of me.
Simo. But how d'ye know?
Davus. I've heard so, and believe so.
Besides a thousand things concur to lead
To this conjecture. In ^le first place, she
Profess'd herself with child by Pamphilus :
That proves a falsehood. Now that she perceives
A nuptial preparation at our house,
A maid's dispatch'd immediately to bring
A midwife to her, and withal a child ;
You too they will contrive shall see the child.
Or else the wedding must proceed.
Simo. How's this ?
Having discover'd such a plot on foot,
Why did you not directly tell my son?
Davus. Who then has drawn him from her but myself?
For we all know how much he doted on her:
But now he wishes for a wife. In fine,
Leave that affair to me ; and you meanwhile
Pursue, as you've begun, the nuptials ; which
The Gods, I hope, will prosper !
Simo. Get you in.
Wait for me there, and see that you prepare
What's requisite. {Exit Davus.
He has not wrought upon me
Sc. v.] THE ANDKIAN. 887
To yield implicit credit to his tale,
Nor do I know if all he said be true.
But, true or false, it matters not: to me
My Son's own promise is the main concern.
Now to meet Chremes, and to beg his daughter
In marriage with my son. If I succeed,
"What can I rather wish, than to behold
Their marriage-rites to-day? For since my sou
Has given me his word, I've not a doubt,
Should he refuse, but I may force him to it:
And to my wishes see where Chremes comes. ;
Scene V.
Enter Chremes.
SiMO. Chremes, good-day !
Chremes. The Aery man I look'd for.
SiMO. And I for you.
Chremes. Well met. — Some persons came
To tell me you inform'd them, that my daughter
Was to be married to your son to-day:
And therefore came I here, and fain would know
Whether 'tis you or they have lost their wits.
SiMO. A moment's hearing; you shall be inforniM,
What I request, and what you wish to know.
Chremes. I hear : what would you ? speak.
SiMO. Now by the Gods ;
Now by our friendship, Chremes, which begun
In infancy, has still increas'd with age ;
Now by your only daughter, and my son,
Whose preservation wholly rests on you ;
Let me entreat this boon : and let the match
Which should have been, still be.
Chremes. Why, why entreat?
Knowing you ought not to beseech this of me.
Think you that I am other than I was,
When first I gave my promise? If the match
Be good for both, e'en call them forth to wed.
But if their union promises more harm
Than good to both, you also, I beseech you,
Consult our common interest, as if
You were her father, Pamphilus my son.
Simo. E'en in that spirit, I desire it, Chremes,
Entreat it may be done ; nor would entreat,
But that occasion urges.
Chremes. What occasion ?
Simo. A diff'rence 'twixt Glycerium and my son.
Chremes. I hear. {Ti-onically.)
Simo. A breach so wide as gives me hopes
To sep'rate them forever.
388 THE ANDRIAN. [Act IIL
Chremes, Idle tales!
SiMO. Indeed 'tis thus.
Chremes. Aye marrv, thus it is.
Quarrels of lovers but renew their love.
SiMO. Prevent we then, I pray, this mischief now;
While time permits, while yet his passion's sore
From contumelies ; ere these women's wiles.
Their wicked arts, and tears made up of fraud
Shake his weak mind, and melt it to compassion.
Give him a wife : by intercourse with her,
Knit by the bonds of wedlock, soon I hope,
He'll rise above the j^uilt that sinks him now.
Chremes. So you believe: for me, I can not think
That he'll be constant, or that I can bear it.
SiMO. How can you know, unless you make the trial?
Chremes. Aye, but to make that trial on a daughter
Is hard indeed.
SiMO. The mischief, should he fail,
Is only this : divorce, which Heav'n forbid !
But mark what benefits if he amend!
First, to your friend you will restore a son;
Gain to yourself a son-in-law, and match
Your daughter to an honest husband.
Chremes. Well!
Since you're so thoroughly convinc'd 'tis right,
I can deny you naught that lies in me.
Simo. I see I ever lov'd you justly, Chremes.
Chremes. But then
Simo. But what?
Chremes. Whence is't you know
That there's a difference between them?
Simo. Davus,
Davus, in all their secrets, told me so ;
Advis'd me too, to hasten on the match
As fast as possible. Would he, d'ye think,
Do that, unless he were full well assur'd
My son desir'd it too? — Hear, what he says.
Ho there! call Davus forth. — But here he comes.
Scene VI.
Enter Davus.
Davus. I was about to seek you.
Simo. What's the matter?
Davus. Why is not the bride sent for? it grows late.
Simo. D'ye hear him? — Davus, I for some time past
Was fearful of you ; lest, like other slaves.
As slaves go now, you should put tricks upon me,
And baffle me, to favor my son's love.
Davus. I, Sir?
Sc. VIL] THE ANDRIAN. 389
SiMO. I thought so: and in fear of that
Conceal'd a secret which I'll now disclose.
Davus. What secret, Sir?
SiMO. I'll tell you: for I now
Almost begin to think you may be trusted.
Davus. You've found what sort of man I am at last.
SiMO. No marriage was intended.
Davus. How ! none !"
SiMO. None.
All counterfeit, to sound my son and you.
Davus. How say you?
SiMo. Even so.
Davus. Alack, alack!
I never could have thought it. Ah, what art! (Archly.')
SiMo. Hear me. No sooner had I sent you in,
But opportunely I encounter'd Chremes.
Davus. How! are we ruin'd then? {Aside.)
SiMO. I told him all.
That you had "just told me,
Davus. Confusion ! how ? {Aside.)
SiMO. Begged him to grant his daughter, and at length
With much ado prevail'd.
Davus. Undone! {Aside.)
SiMO. How's that? {Overhearing.)
Davus. Well done ! I said.
SiMo. My good friend Chremes then
Is now no obstacle.
Chremes. I'll liome a while.
Order due preparations, and return. (Exit,
Smo. Prithee, new, Davus, seeing you alone
Have brought about this match
Davus. Yes, I alone.
Smo. Endeavor farther to amend my son.
Davus. Most diligently.
SiMo. It were easy now.
While his mind's irritated.
Davus. Be at peace.
SiMO. Do then : where is he ?
Davus. Probably at home.
SiMO. I'll in, and tell him, what I've now told you. {Exit.
Scene VII.
Davus alone.
Lost and undone! To prison with me straight!
No prayer, no ])lea : for I have ruin'd all !
Deceiv'd the old man, hamper'd Pamphilus
With marriage ; marriage, bi'ought about to-day
By my sole means ; beyond the hopes of one \
Against the other's will. Oh, cunning fool !
390 THE ANDRIAN. [Act III., Sc. VIII.
Had I been quiet, all had yet been well.
But see, he's coming. Would my neck were broken !
(Retires.^
Scene VHI.
Enter Pamphilus; Davus behind.
Pam. "Where is this villain that has ruined me?
Davus. I'm a lost man.
Pam. And yet I must confess,
That I deserv'd this, being such a dolt,
A very idiot, to commit my fortunes
To a Vile slave. I suffer for my folly.
But will at least take vengeance on him.
Davus. If I can but escape this mischief now,
I'll answer for hereafter.
Pam. To my father
What shall I say? — And can I then refuse.
Who have but now consented? with what face?
I know not what to do.
Davus. I' faith, nor I;
And yet it takes up all my thoughts. I'll tell him
I've hit on something to delay the match.
Pam. Oh ! {Seeing Davus.)
Davus. I am seen.
Pam. So, good Sir! What say you?
See, how I'm hamper'd with your fine advice.
Davus (comiwj forward). But I'll deliver you,
Pam. Deliver me?
Davus. Certainly, Sir.
Pam. What, as you did just now?
Davus. Better, I hope.
Pam. And can you then believe
That I would trust you, rascal? You amend
My broken fortunes, or redeem them lost?
You, who to-day, from the most happy state,
Have thrown me upon marriage. — Did not I
Foretell it would be thus?
Davus. You did indeed.
Pam. And what do you deserve for this?
Davus. The gallows.*^
— Yet suffer me to take a little breath,
I'll devise something presently.
Pam. Alas,
I have not leisure for your punishment.
The time demands attention to myself.
Nor will be wasted in revenge on you.
Act IV., Sc. II.J THE ANDRIAN. 391
ACT THE FOURTH.
Scene I.
Charinus alone.
[is this to be believ'd, or to be told?
Can then such inbred malice live in man,
To joy in ill, and from aQpther's woes
To draw his own delight r4-Ah, is't then so? i
— Yes, such there are, the meanest of mankind,
Who, from a sneaking bashful iiess, at first
Dare not refuse ; but when the time comes on
To make their promise good, tlien force per force
Open themselves and fear: yet must deny.
Then too, oh shameless impudence, they cry,
"Who then are you? and what are you to me?
Why should I render up my love to you?
Faith, neighbor, charity begins at home."
— Speak of their broken faith, they blush not, they,
Now throwing off that shame they ought to wear,
Which they before assum'd without a cause.
— What shall I do ? go to him? on my wrongs
Expostulate, and throw reproaches on him?
What will that profit, say you ? very much.
I shall at least imbitter his delight.
And gratify my anger.
Scene II.
To hiiti Pa^mphilus and Davus.
Pam. Oh, Charinus,
By my imprudence, unless Heav'n forefend,
I've ruin'd both myself and you.
Char. Imprudence !
Paltry evasion ! you have broke your faith.
Pam. What now?
Char. And do you think that words like these
Can baffle me again?
Pam. What means all this?
Char. Soon as I told you of my passion for her,-
Then she had charms for you. Ah, senseless fool,
To judge your disposition by my own!
Pam. You are mistaken.
Char. Was your joy no joy.
Without abusing a fond lover's mind,
Fool'd on with idle hopes? — Well, take her.
Pam. Take her?
Alas, you know not what a wretch I am :
How many cares this slave has brought upon me,
My rascal here.
392 THE ANDKIAN. [Act IV.
Char. No wonder if he takes
Example from his master.
Pam. Ah, you know not
Me, or my love, or else you would not talk thus.
Char. Oh yes, I know it all. You had but now
A dreadful altercation with your father:
And therefore he's cnrag'd, nor could prevail
On you, forsooth, to wed. (^Ironically,)
Pam. To show you then,
How little you conceive of my distress.
These nuptials were mere semblance, mock'ry all,
Nor was a wife intended me.
Char. I know it:
You are constrain'd, poor man, by inclination.
Pam. Nay, but have patience ! you don't know —
Char. I know
That you're to marry Iier.
Pam. Why rack me thus ?
Nay hear! he never ceas'd to importune
That I would tell my father, I would wed;
So press'd, and urg'd, that he at length pre".\.ll'd.
Char. Who did this?
Pam. Davus.
Char. Davus!
Pam, Davus all.
Char. Wherefore?
Pam. I know not : but I know the Gods
Meant in their anger I should listen to him.
Char. Is it so, Davus?
Davus. Even so.
Char. How, villain ?
The Gods confound you for it ! — Tell me, wretch
Had all his most inveterate foes desir'd
To throw him on this marriage, what advice
Could they have given else?
Davus. I am deceiv'd,
But not dishearten'd.
Char. True. (L-onicallij.}
Davus. This Avay has fail'd;
We'll try another way : unless you think
Because the business has gone ill at first,
We can not graft advantage on misfortune.
Pam. Oh aye, I warrant you, if you look to 't^
Out of one wedding you can work me two.
Davus. Pamphilus, 'tis my duty, as your slave,
To strive with mi^lit and main, by day and nighty
With hazard of my life, to do you service :
'Tis yours, if I am cross'd, to pardon me.
My undertakings fail indeed, but then
I spare no pains. Do better, if you can,
And send me packing.
Sc. III.] THE ANDRIAN. 393
Pam. Aye, with fill my heart:
Place me but where you found me first.
Davus. I will.
Pam. But do it instantly.
Davus. Hist! hold a while:
I hear the creaking of Gly cerium's door,
Pam. Nothing to you.
Davus. I'm thinking.
Pam. What, at last?
Davus. Your business shall be done, and presently.
Scene III.
Enter Mysis.
Mtsis to Gltcerium (within). Be where he will, I'll find
your Pamphilus,
And bring him with mc. Meanwhile, you, my soul,
Forbear to vex yourseh'.
Pam. Mysis !
Mysis. Who's there?
Oh Pamphilus, well met, Sir!
Pam. What's the matter?
Mysis. My mistress, by the love you bear her, begs
Your presence instantly. She longs to see you.
Pam. Ah, I'm undone : This sore breaks out afresh.
Unhappy that we are, through your curs'd means.
To be tormented thus. (7b Davus.) — She has been told
A nuptial is prepar'd and therefore sends.
Char. Prora which how safe you were, had he been quiet!
{Pointing to Davus.)
Davus. Aye, if he raves not of himself enough,
Do, irritate him. (7b Ciiarinus.)
Mysis. Truly that's the cause;
And therefore 'tis, poor soul, she sorrows thus.
Pam. Mysis, I swear to thee by all the Gods,
I never will desert her : though assur'd
That I for her make all mankind my foes.
I sought her, carried her : our hearts are one,
And farewell they that wish us put asunder!
Death, naught but death shall part us.
Mysis. I revive.
Pam. Apollo's oracles are not more true.
If that my father may be wrought upon.
To think I hindcr'd not the match, 'tis Avell:
But if that can not be, come what come may,
Why let him know, 'twas I — What think you now?
(7b Charinus.)
Char. That we are wretches both.
Davus. My brain 's at work.
Char. O brave!
R2
394 THE ANDRIAN. [Act IV
Pam. I know what you'd attempt.
Davds. Well, well!
I will eifect it for you.
Pam. Aye, but now.
Davus. E'en now.
Char. What is't?
Davus. For him, Sir, not for you.
Be not mistaken.
Char. I am satisfied.
Pam. Say, what do you propose?
Davus. This day, I fear,
Is scarce sufficient for the execution,
So think not I have leisure to relate.
Hence then! you hinder me: hence, hence I say.
Pam. I'll to Glycerium. {Exit.
Davus. Well, and what mean you?
Whither will you, Sir?
Char. Shall I speak the truth?
Davus. Oh to be sure; now for a tedious tale!
Char. What will become of me?
Davus. How! not content!
Is it not then sufficient, if I give you
The respite of a day, a little day,
By putting off his wedding?
Char. Aye, but Davus,
Davus. But what?
Char. That I may wed
Davus. Ridiculous !
Char. If you succeed, come to me.
Davus. Wherefore come?
I can't assist you.
Char. Should it so fall out
Davus. Well, well, I'll come.
Char. If aught, I am at home. {Exit,
Scene IV.
Manent Davus, Mysis.
Davus. Mysis, wait here till I come forth.
Mysis. For what?
Davus. It must be so.
Mysis. Make haste then.
Davus. In a moment. {Exit to Glycerium's.
Scene V.
Mysis alone.
Can we securely then count nothing ours?
Oh all ye Gods! I thought this Pamphilns
The greatest good my mistress cor.ld obtain,
VII.J Till-: AXDlilAX. 395
Friend, lovev, husband, cv'ry way a blessing:
And yet what woe, poor wretch, endures she not
On his account? Alas, more ill than good.
But here comes Davus.
Scene VI.
Re-enter Davus with the child.
Mtsis. Prithee, man, what now?
Where are you carrying the child?
Davus. Oh, My sis,
Now have I need of all your ready wit,
And all your cunning.
Mysis. What are you about?
Davus. Quick, take the boy, and lay him at our door.
Mtsis. What, on the bare ground?
Davus. From the altar then
Take herbs and strew them underneath.
Mysis. And why
Can't you do that yourself?
Davus. Because, that if
My master chance to put me to my oath
That 'twas not I who laid it there, I may
With a safe conscience swear. {Gives her the child.)
Mysis. I understand.
But pray how came this sudden qualm upon you?
Davus. Nay, but be quick, that you may comprehend
What I propose. — (Mysis lays the child at Simo's door.)
Oh Jupiter! {Looking out.)
Mysis. What now?
Davus. Here comes the father of the bride ! — I change
My first-intended purpose.
Mysis. What you mean
I can't imagine.
Davus. This way fi'om the right,
I'll counterfeit to come: — And be't your care
To throw in aptly now and then a word.
To help out the discourse as need requires.
Mysis. Still what you're at, I can not comprehend.
But if I can assist, as you know best.
Not to obstruct your purposes, I'll stay. (Davus retires.)
SCENK VII.
Enter Ciiremes going toward Simo's.
Chremes, Having provided all things necessary,
I now return to bid them call the bride.
What's here ? (seeing the child) by Hercules, a child ! Ha,
woman.
Was 't vou that laid it hero?
396 THE ANDRIAN. [Act IV.
Mysis. Where is he gone ? (^Looking after Davus.)
Chremes. What, won't you answer me?
Mysis. {Looking about.) Not here : Ah me !
The fellow's gone, and left me in the lurch.
(Davus coming forward and pretending not to see them.')
Davus. Good Heavens, what confusion at the Forum !
The people all disputing with each other!
The market-price is so confounded high. (Loud.)
What to say else I know not, (Aside.)
Mysis (to Davus). What d'ye mean, (Chremes reti7-es and
By leaving me alone? listens to their conversation.)
Davus. What farce is this?
Ha, Mysis, whence this child? Who brought it here?
Mysis. Have you your wits, to ask me such a question ?
Davus. Whom should I ask, when no one else is here?
Chremes {behind). I wonder whence it comes. (7b himself.)
Davus. Wilt answer me ! (Loud.)
Mysis. Ah! {Confused.)
Davus. This way to the right! (Aj)art to Mysis.)
Mysis. You 're raving mad.
Was 't not yourself!
Davus. I charge you not a word,
But what I ask you. (Apart to Mysis.)
Mysis. Do you threaten me ?
Davus. Whence conies this child? {Loud.)
Mysis. From our house.
Davus. Ha! ha! ha!
No wonder that a harlot has assurance.
Chremes. This is the Andrian's servant-maid, I take it.
Davus. Do we then seem to you such proper folks
To play these tricks upon? (Loud to Mysis.)
Chremes. I came in time. (To himself.)
Davus. Make haste, and take your bantling from our door.
(Loud.)
Hold ! do not stir from where you arc, besure. (Softly.)
Mysis. A plague upon you : you so terrify me !
Davus. Wench, did I speak to you or no? {L^oud.)
Mysis. What would you?
Davus. What would I ? Say, whose child have you laid here ?
Tell me. (Loud.)
Mysis. You don't know?
Davus. Plague of what I know :
Tell what I ask. {Softly.)
Mysis. Yours.
Davus. Oars? Whose? {Loud.)
Mysis. Pamphilus's.
Davus. How say you? Pamphilus's? (Loud.)
Mysis. Why is 't not ?
Chremes. I had good cause to be against this match. {To
himself.)
Sc. VIU.] THE ANJDRIAN. 397
Davus. O monstrous impudence! {Bawling.')
Mysis. Why all this noise ?
Davus. Did not I see this child convey'd by stealth
Into your house last night?
Mysis. Oh rogue!
Davus. 'Tis true.
I saw old Canthara stuff d out ?
Mysis. Thank Heav'n,
Some free-women were present at her labor ?
Davus. Troth, she don't know the gentleman, for whom
She plays this game. She thinks, should Chremes see
The child laid here, he would not grant his daughter.
Faith, he would grant her the more willingly.
Chremes. Not he indeed. {To himself.)
Davus. But now, one word for all.
Take up the child ; or I shall trundle hira
Into the middle of the street, and roll
You, madam, in the mire.
Mysis. The fellow's drunk.
Davus. One piece of knavery begets another:
Now, I am told, 'tis whisper'd all about.
That she's a citizen of Athens {Loud.)
Chremes. How !
Davus. And that by law he will be forc'd to wed her.
Mysis. Why prithee is she not a citizen?
Chremes. What a fine scrape was I within a hair
Of being drawn into! {To himself.)
Davus. What voice is that ? ( Turning about.)
Oh Chremes ! you are come in time. Attend !
Chremes. I have heard all already.
Davus. You've heard all?
Chremes. Yes all, I say, from first to last.
Davus. Indeed ?
Good lack, what knaveries ! tliis lying jade
Should be dragg'd hence to torture. — This is he! (To Mysis.)
Think not 'twas Davus you impos'd upon.
Mysis. Ah me! — Good Sir, I spoke the truth indeed.
Chremes. I know the whole. — Is Simo in the house?
Davus. Yes, Sir. {Exit Chremes.
Scene VIII.
Manent Davus, Mysis. Davus runs up to her.
Mysis. Don't offer to touch me, you villain !
If I don't tell my mistress every word
Davus. Why you don't know, you fool, what good we've done.
Mysis. How should I?
Davus. This is fiither to the bride:
Nor could it otherwise have been contriv'd
That he should know wliat we would have him.
198 THE Ai^DRIAN. [Act IV., Sc. IX.
Mysis. Well,
You should have given me notice.
Davus. Is there then
No dift'rence, think you, whether all you say
Falls natural from the heart, or comes
From dull premeditation ?
Scene IX.
Enter Crito.
Crito. In this street
They say that Chrysis liv'd: who rather chose
To heap up riches here by wanton ways,
Than to live poor and honestly at home :
She dead, her fortune comes by law to me.
But I see persons to inquire of. {Goes up.) Save you!
Mysis. Good now, who's that I see? is it not Crito,
Chrysis's kinsman? Aye, the very same.
Crito. O Mysis, save you!
Mysis. Save you, Crito !
Crito. Chrysis
Is then ha?
Mysis. Aye, she has left us, poor souls !
Crito. And ye ; how go ye on here ? — pretty well ?
Mysis. We? — as we can, as the old saying goes,
When as we icould we can not.
Crito. And Glycerium,
Has she found out her parents?
Mysis. Would she had !
Crito. Not yet! an ill wind blew me hither then.
For truly, had I been appris'd of that,
I'd ne'er have set foot here : for this Glycerium
Was always call'd and thought to be her sister.
What Chrysis left, she takes possession of:
And now for me, a stranger, to commence
A lawsuit here, how good and wise it were,
Other examples teach me. She, I warrant,
Has got her some gallant too, some defender :
For she was growing up a jolly girl
When first she journeyed hither. They will cry
That I'm a pettifogger, fortune-hunter,
A beggar. — And besides it were not well
To leave her in distress.
Mysis. Good soul ! troth Crito,
You have the good old-fashion'd honesty.
Crito. Well, since I am arriv'd here, bring me to her.
That I may see her.
Mysis. Aye, with all my heart.
Davus. I will in with them : for I would not choose
That our old gentleman should see me now. {Exciint.
Act v., Sc. II.] THE ANDRIAN. 399
ACT THE FIFTH.
Scene I.
Chremes, Simo.
Chremes. Enough already, Simo, and enough
I've shown my friendship for you; hazarded
Enough of peril : urge me then no more !
Wishing to please yon, I had near destroy'd
My daughter's peace and happiness forever.
Simo. Ah, Chremes, I must now entreat the more,
More urge you to confirm the promis'd boon.
Chremes. Mark, how unjust you are through willfulness !
So you obtain what you demand, you set
No bounds to my compliance, nor consider
What you request; for if you did consider,
You'd cease to load me with these injuries.
Simo. What injuries?
Chremes. Is that a question now?
Have you not driven me to plight my child
To one possess'd with other love, averse
To marriage- to expose her to divorce.
And crazy nuptials ; by her woe and bane
To work a cure for your distemper'd son?
You had pi-evail'd: I travel'd in the match.
While circumstances would admit ; but now
The case is chang'd, content 3'ou : — It is said
That she's a citizen ; a child is born :
Prithee excuse us!
Simo. Now, for Heav'n's sake.
Believe not them, whose interest it is
To make him vile and abject as themselves.
These stories arc all feign'd, concerted all.
To break the match : when the occasion's past
That urges them to this, they will desist.
Chremes. Oh, you mistake : e'en now I saw the maid
Wrangling with Davus.
Simo. Artifice! mere trick.
Chremes. Aye, but in earnest; and when neither knew
That I was there.
Simo. It may be so: and Davus
Told me beforehand they'd attempt all this;
Though I, I know not how, forgot to tell you.
Scene II.
Enter Davus from Gltcerium's.
Davus {to himself). He may be easy now, I warrant him —
400 THE ANDEIAN. [Act V.
Chremes. See yonder's Davus.*
SiMo. Ha ! whence comes the rogue ?
Davds. By my assistance, and this stranger's safe.
{To himself.)
SiMO. What mischief's this? {Listening.)
Davus. A more commodious man,
Arriving just in season, at a time
So critical, I never knew. {To himself.)
SiMo. A knave !
Who's that he praises ? {Listening.)
Davus. All is now secure. {To himself.)
SiMO. Why don't I speak to him ?
Davus. My master here! {Turning ahouu)
What shall I do ? {To himself.)
SiMO. Good Sir, your humble Servant ! {Sneeri/ir;.)
Davus. Oh, Simo ! and our Chremes ! — All is now
Prepar'd within.
Simo. You've taken special care. {Tronicalltj .)
Davus. E'en call them when you please.
Simo. Oh, mighty fine!
That to be sure is all that's wanting now.
— But tell me. Sir ! what business had you there ? {Pointing
to Glycerium's.)
Davus. I? {Confused.)
Simo. You?
Davus. I ? {Stammering.)
Simo. You, Sir.
Davus. I went in but now. {Disordered.)
Simo. As if I ask'd, how long it was ago.
Davus. AVith Pamphilus.
Simo. Is Pamphilus within ?
— ^Oh torture. — Did not you assure me, Sirrali,
They were at variance ?
Davus. So they are.
Simo. Why then
Is Pamphilus within ?
Chremes. Oh, why d'ye think?
He's gone to quarrel with her. {Sneering.)
Davus. Nay, but Chremes,
There's more in this, and you shall hear strange news.
There's an old countryman, I know not who,
Is just arriv'd here ; confident and shrewd ;
His look bespeaks him of some consequence.
A gi-ave seventy is in his face,
And credit in his words.
Simo. What story now ?
Davus. Nay, nothing. Sir, but what I heard him say.
Simo. And what says he, then?
Davus. That he's well assur'd
Glycerium's an Athenian citizen.
Simo. Ho, Dromo! Dromo!
Sc. v.] THE ANDPJAN. 401
Davus. What now?
SiMO. Dromo!
Davus. Hear me.
Si3io. Speak but a word more — Dromo !
Davus. Pray, Sir, hear!
Scene III.
Enter Dromo.
Dromo. Your pleasure, Sir?
SiMO. Here, drag him headlong in.
And truss the rascal up immediately.
Dromo. Whom ?
SiMO. Davus.
Davus. Why!
SiMo. Because I'll have it so.
Take him, I say.
Davus. For what offense?
SiMO. Off with him !
Davus. If it appear that I've said aught but truth,
Put me to death.
SiMO. I will not hear. I'll trounce you.
Davus. But though it should prove true, Sir !
SiMO. True or false.
See that you keep him bound : and do you hear ?
Bind the slave hand and foot. Away !
(^Exeunt Dromo and Davus.
Scene IV.
Manent Simo, Chremes.
— By Heav'n,
As I do live, I'll make you know this day
What peril lies in trifling with a master,
And make him know what 'tis to plague a father.
Chremes. Ah, be not in such rage.
Simo. Oh Chremes, Chromes,
Filial unkindness ! — Don't you pity me I
To feel all this for such a thankless son!
Here, Pamphilus, come forth ! ho, Pamphilus !
Have you no shame ? ( Calling at Gltcerium's door.')
Scene V.
Enter Pamphilus.
Pam. Who calls ? — Undone ! my father !
Simo. What say yon ? Most
Chremes. Ah, rather speak at once
Your purpose, iSiiiu), and i';)i-bc;r.- reproach.
402 THE ANDEIAN. [Act V.
SiMO. As if 'twere possible to utter aught
Severer than he merits! — Tell me then; {To Pam.)
Glycerium is a citizen?
Pam. They say so.
SiMO. They say so ! — Oh amazing impudence !
Does he consider what he says? does he
Eepent the deed? or does his color take
The hue of shame? — To be so weak of soul,
Against the custom of our citizens,
Against the law, against his father's will,
To wed himself to shame and this vile woman.
Pam. Wretch that I am!
SiMO. Ah, Pamphilus ! d'ye feel
Your wretchedness at last? Then, then, when first
You wrought upon your mind at any rate
To gratify your passion : from that hour
Well might you feel your state of wretchedness.
— But why give in to this? Why torture thus,
Why vex my spirit? Why afflict my age
For his distemp'rature ? Why rue his sins ?
— No ; let him have her, joy in her, live with her.
Pam. My father !
SiMO. How, my father! — can I think
You want this father? You that for yourself
A home, a wife, and children have acquir'd
Against your father's will? And witnesses
Suborn'd, to prove that she's a citizen?
— You've gain'd your point.
Pam. My father, bnt one word!
Simo. What would you say?
Chremes. Na}"-, hear him, Simo.
Simo. Hear him ?
What must I hear then, Chremes!
Chkemes. Let him speak.
Simo. Well, let him speak: I hear him.
Pam. I confess,
I love Glycerium: if it be a fault,
That too I do confess. To you, my father,
I yield myself: dispose me as you please !
Command me ! Say that I shall take a wife;
Leave her; I will endure it, as I may
This only I beseech you, think not I
Suborn'd this old man hither. — Suffer me
To clear myself, and bring him here before you.
Simo. Bring him here!
Pam. Let me, father!
Chremes. 'Tis but just : . ,
Permit him!
Pam. Grant me this !
Simo. Well, be it so.
{Exit Pamphiltts.
Sc. VI.] THE ANDRIAN. 403
I could bear all this bravely, Chremcs ; more,
Much more, to know that he deceiv'd me not.
Chremes. For a great fault a little punishment
Suffices to a father.
Scene VI.
Re-enier Pamphilus with Ckito.
Crito. Say no more!
Any of these inducements would prevail :
Or your entreaty, or that it is truth.
Or that I wish it for Glycerium's sake.
Chremes. Whom do I see? Crito, the Andrian ?
Nay certainly 'tis Crito.
Crito. Save you, Chremes!
Chremes. "What has brought you to Athens ?
Crito. Accident.
But is this Simo?
Chremes. Aye.
Simo. Asks he for me ?
So, Sir, you say that this Glycerium
Is an Athenian citizen ?
Crito. Do you
Deny it ?
Simo. What then are you come prepar'd?
Crito. Prepar'd! for what?
Simo. And dare you ask for what?
Shall you go on thus with impunity?
Lay snares for inexpevienc'd, lib'ral youth,
With fraud, temptation, and fair promises
Soothing their minds?
Crito. Have yon your wits?
Simo. — And then
With marriage solder up their harlot loves?
Pam. Alas, I fear the stranger will not bear this. {Aside.^
Chremes. Knew you this person, Simo, you'd not think
thus :
He's a good man.
Simo. A good man he ? — To come.
Although at Athens never seen till now,
So opportunely on the wedding-day! —
Is such a fellow to be trusted, Chremes?
Pam. But that I fear my father, I could make
That matter clear to him. {Aside.')
Simo. A Sharper!
Crito. How ?
Chremes. It is his humor, Crito: do not heed him.
Crito. Let him look to 't. If he persists in saying
Whate'er he pleases, I shall make him hear
Something that may displease him. — Do I stir
404 THE ANDPvIAN. [Act V.
In these affairs, or make them my concern?
Bear your misfortunes patiently! For me,
If I speak true or false, shall now be known.
— " A man of Athens once upon a time
Was shipwreck'd on the coast of Andros : with him
This very woman, then an infant. He
In this distress applied, it so fell out,
For help to Chrysis' father "
SiMO. All romance.
Chremes. Let him alone.
Crito. And will he interrupt me?
Chremes. Go on.
Crito. "Now Chrysis' father, who receiv'd him,
Was my relation. Tlicre I've often heard
The man himself declare, he was of Athens.
There too he died."
Chremes. His name ?
Crito. His name so quickly! — Phania.
Chremes. Amazement!
Crito. By my troth, I think 'twas Phania;
But this I'm sure, he said he was of Rhamnus.
Chremes. Oh Jupiter!
Crito. These circumstances, Cliremcs,
Were known to many others, then in Andros.
Chremes. Heav'n grant it may be as I wish ! — Inform me,
Whose daughter, said he, was the child? his own?
Crito. No, not his own.
Chremes. Whose then?
Crito. His brother's daughter.
Chremes. Mine, mine undoubtedly!
Crito. What say you?
SiMo. How !
Pam. Hark, Pamphilus!
Sbio. But why believe you this?
Chremes, That Phania was my brother.
SiMO. True. I knew him.
Chremes. He, to avoid the Avar, departed hence:
And fearing 'twere unsafe to leave the child,
Embai-k'd with her in quest of me for Asia :
Since when I've heard no news of him till now.
Pam. I'm scarce myself, my mind is so enrapt
With fear, hope, joy, and wonder of so great.
So sudden happiness.
SiMO. Indeed, my Chremes,
I heartily rejoice she's found your daughter.
Pam. I do believe you, father.
Chremes. But one doubt
There still remains, which gives mo pain.
Pam. Away
With all your doubts ! you puzzle a plain cause. (Aside.)
Crito. What is that doubt ?
Sc. VI.] THE ANDEIAN. 405
Chremes. The name does not agree.
Crito. She had another, when a child.
Chremes. What, Crito ?
Can you remember ?
Crito. I am hunting for it.
Pam. Shall then his memory oppose my bliss,
When I can minister the cure myself?
No, I will not permit it — Hark you, Chremes,
The name is Pasibula.
Crito. True.
Chremes. The same.
Pam. I've heard it from herself a thousand times.
SiMo. Chremes, I trust you will believe, we all
Rejoice at this.
Chremes. 'Fore Heaven I believe so.
Pam. And now, my father
SiMO. Peace, son! the event
Has reconcil'd me.
Pam. O thou best of fathers!
Does Chremes too confirm Glycerium mine?
Chremes. And with good cause if Sirao hinder not.
Pam. Sir! {To Simo.)
Simo. Be it so.
Chremes. My daughter's portion is
Ten talents, Pamphilus.
Pam. I am content.
Chremes. I'll to her instantly: and prithee, Crito,
Along with me! for sure she knows me not.
{Exeunt Chreaies and Crito.
Simo. Why do you not give orders instantly
To bring her to our house?
Pam. Th' advice is good.
I'll give that charge to Davus.
Simo. It can't be.
Pam. Why?
Simo. He has other business of his own,
Of nearer import to himself.
Pam. What business?
Simo. He's bound.
Pam. Bound! how. Sir!
Simo. How, Sir? neck and heels.
Pam. Ah, let him be enlarg'd.
Simo. It shall be done.
Pam. But instantly.
Simo. I'll in, and order it. (Exit.
Pam. Oh what a happy, happy day is this!
406 THE ANDRIAN. [Act V.
SCEVE VII.
Enter CiiA'iiNUS behind.
Char. I come to see what Pamphilus is doing:
And there he is!
Pam. And is this true?- -yes, yes,
I know 'tis true, because I wish it so.
Therefore I think the lile of Gods eternal,
For that their joys are permanent : and now,
My soul hath her content so absolute.
That I too am immortal, if no ill
Step in betwixt me and this happiness.
Oh, for a bosom-friend now to pour out
My ecstasies before him !
Char. What's this rapture? {Listening.)
Pam. Oh, yonder's Davus : nobody more welcome :
For he, I know, will join in transport with me.
Scene Vin.
Enter Davus.
Davus {entering). Where's Pamphilus ?
Pam. Oh Davus!
Davus. Who's there ?
Pam. I.
Davus. Oh Pamphilus!
Pam. You know not my good fortune.
Davus. Do you know my ill fortune?
Pam. To a tittle.
Davus. 'Tis after the old fashion, that my ills
Should reach your eai-s, before your joys reach mine.
Pam. Glycerium has discover'd her relations.
Davus. O excellent!
Char. How's that ? {Listening.)
Pam. Her father is
t)ur most near friend.
Davus. Who?
Pam. Chremes.
Davus. Charming news!
Pam. And I'm to marry her immediately.
Char. Is this man talking in his sleep, and dreams
Dn what he wishes waking? {Listening.)
Pam. And moreover,
for the child, Davus
Davus. Ah, Sir, say no more.
STou're th' only favorite of the Gods.
Char. I'm made,
tf this be true. I'll speak to them. {Comes forward.)
Sc. VIII.] THE ANDRIAN. 407
Pam. Who's there?
Charinus! oh, well met.
Char. I give you joy.
Pam. You've heard then
Chak. Ev'ry word: and prithee now,
In your good fortune, think upon your friend.
Chremes is now your own ; and will perform
Whatever you shall ask.
Pam. I shall remember.
'Twere tedious to expect his coming forth :
Along with me then to Glycerium!
Davus, do you go home, and hasten them
To fetch her hence. Away, away!
Davus. I go. {Exeunt Pamphilus and Charinus.
(Davus addressing the audience.)
Wait not till they come forth: within
She'll be betroth'd; within, if aught remains
Undone, 'twill be concluded — Clap your hands!
THE EUNUCH.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Prologtte.
Laches.
Ph^edria.
Chjerea.
Antipho.
Chremes.
Thraso.
Gnatho.
Parmeno.
DORUS.
Sanga.
StMALIO, ETC.
Thais.
Pythias.
DORIAS.
sophrona.
Pamphila.
Scene, Athens.
PROLOGUE.
To please the candid, give offense to none,
This, says the Poet, ever was his care :
Yet if there's one who thinks he's hardly censur'd,
Let him remember he was the aggressor :
//e, who translating many, but not well,
On good Greek fables fram'd poor Latin plays ;
He^ who but lately to the public gave
The Phantom of Menander ; He^ who made,
In the Thesaurus, the Defendant plead
And vouch the question'd treasure to be his,
Before the Plaintiff his own title shows,
Or whence it came into his father's tomb.
Henceforward, let him not deceive himself,
Or cry, *'Pm safe, he can say naught of me."
I charge him that he err not, and forbear
To urge me farther; for Pve more, much more,
Which now shall be o'erlook'd, but shall be known,
If he pursue his slanders, as before.
Soon as this play, the Eunuch of Menander,
Which we are now preparing to perform,
Was purchas'd by the -^Ediles, he obtain'd
Leave to examine it : and afterward
When 'twas rehcars'd before the Magistrates,
Act I., Sc. I.] THE EUNUCH. 409
"A Thief," he cried, "no Poet gives this piece.
Yet has he not deceived ns : for we know,
The Colax is an ancient comedy
Of Ncevius, and of Plautus ; and from thence
The Parasite and Soldier both are stolen."
If that's the Poet's c. .c, it is a crime
Of jgnoi'ance, and not a studied theft.
Judge for yourselves ! the fact is even thus.
The Colax is a fable of Menander's ;
Wherein is drawn the character of Colax
The parasite, and the vain-glorious soldier 5
Which characters, he scruples not to own,
He to his Eunuch from the Greek transferr'd :
But that he knew those pieces were before
Made Latin, that he steadfastly denies.
Yet if to other Poets 'tis not lawful
To draw the characters our fathers drew,
How can it then be lawful to exhibit
Slaves running to and fro ; to represent
Good matrons, wanton harlots ; or to show
An eating parasite, vain-glorious soldier,
Supposititious children, bubbled dotards,
Or love, or hate, or jealousy ? — In ^hort.
Nothing's said now but has been said before.
Weigh then these things with candor, and forgive
The Moderns, if what Ancients did, they do.
Attend, and list in silence to our play,
That ye may know what 'tis the Eunuch means.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCEKE I.
Enter Pii^dria and Parmeno.
Ph^d. And what then shall I do? not go? net now?
When she herself invites me ? or were 't best
Fashion my mind no longer to endure
These harlots' impudence? — Shut out! recall'd!
Shall I return? No, not if she implore me.
Par. Oh brave ! oh excellent ! if you maintain it !
But if you try, and can't go through with spirit.
And finding you can't bear it, uninvited.
Your peace unmade, all of your own accord,
You come and swear you love, and can't endure it,
S
410 THE EUNUCH. [Act I.
Good-night I all's over! ruin'd and undone:
She'll jilt you, when she sees you in her pow'r.
Pii/TiD. You then, in time consider and advise !
Par. Master iQ^ie thing which hath not in itself
Or measure or {Uivicc, advice can't rule.
In love are all these ills : suspicions, quarrels,
AVrongs, reconcilements, war, and peace again :
Things thus uncertain, if by reason's rules
You'd certain make, it were a^wise a task
To try with reason to run maj|^ And now
What you in anger meditate — I her?
That him ? — that me ? that would not pardon me !
I would die rather : No ! she shall perceive
How much I am a man. Big words like these,
She in good faith with one false tiny drop.
Which, after grievous rubbing, from her eyes
Can scarce jjerforcc be squeez'd, shall overcome.
Nay, she shall swear, 'twas you in fault, not she ;
Y'ou too shall own th' offense, and pray for pardon.
ViiMi). Oh monstrous I monstrous ! now indeed I see
How false she is, and what a wretch I am !
Spite of myself I love ; and knowing, feeling,
With open eyes rnn on to my destruction ;
And what to do I knov/ not.
Pah. What to dorf
What should you do, Sir, but redeem yourself
As cheaply as you can ? at easy rates
If possible if not at any rate
And never vex yourself.
Pii^D. Is that your counsel?
Par. Aye, if you're wise ; and do not add to love
More troubles than it has, and those it has
Bear bravely ! But she comes, our ruin comes ;
For she, like storms of hail on fields of corn,
Beats down our hopes, and carries all before her.
Scene II.
Enter TiiAis.
Thais. Ah me ! I fear lest Phixidria take offense
And think I meant it other than I did.
That he was not admitted yesterday, (To herself, not seeing
them.)
Ph^ed. 1 tremble, Parmeno, and freeze with horror.
Par. Be of good cheer! approach yon fire — she'll warm you.
TiiAis. Who's there ? my Phiedria ? Why did you stand here ?
Why not directly enter?
Par. Not one word
Of having shut him out!
Thats. AVhy don't you speak?
Sell.] THE EUNUCH. 411
Thjed. Because, forsooth, these doors v.'iil always fly
Open to me, or tliat because I stand
The fii'st in your good graces. {Ironicallij.)
Thais. Nay, no more !
Pii^D. No more? — O Thais, Thais, would to Heaven
Our loves- were parallel, that things like these
Might torture you, as this has tortur'd me:
Or that your actions were indifferent to me!
Thais. Grieve not, I beg, my love, my Phajdria!
Not that I lov'd another more, I did this.
But I by circumstance was forc'd to do it.
Par. So then, it seems, for very love, poor soul,
You shut the door in 's teeth.
Thais. Ah Parmeno!
Is 't thus you deal with me ? Go to ! — But hear
Why I did call you hither?
Ph^ed. Be it so.
Thais. But tell mc first, can yon slave liold his peace?
Paji. I? oh most faithfully: But hark ye, madam!
On this condition do I bind my faith:
The truths I hear, I wall conceal; whate'er
Is false, or vain, or feign' d, I'll publish it.
I'm full of chinks, and run through here and there:
So if you claim my secrecy, speak truth.
Thais. My motlicr was a Samian, liv'd at Rhodes.
Par. This sleeps in silence. {Archly.)
Thais. There a certain merchant
Made her a present of a little girl,
Stol'n hence from Attica.
Phjed. a citizen?
Thais. I think so, but we can not tell for certain.
Her ftither's and her mother's name she told
Herself; her country and the other marks
Of her original, she neither knew,
Nor, from her age, was 't possible she should.
The merchant added further, tliat the pirates.
Of whom he bought her, let him understand.
She had been stol'n from Sunium. My mother
Gave her an education, brought her up
In all respects as she had been her own ;
And she in gen'ral was suppos'd my sister.
I jom-neyed hither with the gentleman
To whom alone I was connected then,
The same who left me all I have.
Par. Both these
Are false, and shall go forth at large.
Thais. Why so?
Par. Because nor you -with one could be content,
Nor he alone enrich'd you; for my master
Made good and large addition.
412 THE EUNUCH. [Act I.
Thais. I allow it,
But let mc hasten to the point I wish:
Meantime the captain, who was then but young
In his attachment to me, went to Caria.
I, in his absence, was address'd by yon;
Since when, full well you know, how very dear
I've held you, and have trusted you with all
My nearest counsels.
Ph^d. And yet Parmeno
Will not be silent even here.
Par. Oh, Sir,
Is that a doubt?
Thais. Nay, prithee now, attend!
My mother's lately dead at Rhodes: her brother,
Too much intent on wealth, no sooner saw
This virgin, handsome, well-accomplish'd, skill'd
In music, than,.spurr'd on by hopes of gain,
In public market he expos'd and sold her.
It so fell out, my soldier-spark was there.
And bought her, all unknowing these events,
To give to me: but soon as he return'd.
And found how much I was attach'd to you.
He feign'd excuses to keep back the girl;
Pretending, were he thoroughly convinc'd
That I would still prefer him to yourself,
Nor fear'd that when I had receiv'd the girl,
I would abandon him, he'd give her to me ;
But that he doubted. For my part, I think
He is grown fond of her himself.
Ph^d. Is there
Aught more between them ?
Thais. No; for I've inquir'd.
And now, my Phoedria, there arc sundry causes
Wherefore I wish to win the virgin from him.
First, for she's call'd my sister; and moreover,
That I to her relations may restore her.
I'm a lone woman, have nor friend, nor kin:
Wherefore, my Phaidria, I would raise up friends
By some good turn : — And you, I prithee now,
Help me to do it. Let him some few days
Be my gallant in chief. What! no reply?
PHiED. Abandon'd woman ! Can I aught reply
To deeds like these?
Par. Oh excellent! well said!
He feels at length ; Now, master, you're a man.
Ph^d. I saw your story's drift. — A little girl
Stol'n hence — My mother brought her up — was call'd
My sister — I would fain obtain her from him,
That I to her relations might restore her —
All this preamble comes at last to this.
Sc. II.] THE EUNUCIL 413
I am excluded, he's admitted. Why?
But that you love him more than me, and fear
Lest this young captive win your hero from you,
Thais. Do I fear that?
Pii^D. Why, prithee now, what else?
Does he bring gifts alone? didst e'er perceive
My bounty shut against you? Did I not,
Because you told me you'd be glad to have
An Ethiopian servant-maid, all else
Omitted, seek one out? You said besides,
You wish'd to have an Eunuch, 'cause forsooth,
They were for dames of quality ; I found one :
For both I yesterday paid twenty mince^
Yet you contemn mc — I forgot not these,
And for these I'm despis'd.
Thais. Why this, my Phaidria?
Though I would fain obtain the girl, and though
I think by these means it might well be done ;
Yet, rather than make you my enemy,
I'll do as you command.
Pii^D. Oh, had you said
Those words sincerely. "Rather than make you
My enemy!" — Oh, could I think those words
Came from your heart, what is 't I'd not endure!
Pae. Gone ! conquer'd with one word ! alas, how soon !
Thais. Not speak sincerely? from my very soul?
What did you ever ask, although in sport.
But you obtain'd it of me ? yet I can't
Prevail on you to grant but two short days.
Ph.ed. Well — for two days — so those two be not twenty.
Thais. No in good faith but two, or—
PiL^D. Or? no more.
Thais. It shall not be: but you will grant mc those.
PiiiED. Your Avill must be a law.
Thais. Thanks, my sv/eet Pha3dria !
Ph^d. I'll to the country : there consume myself
For these two days : it must be so : we must
Give way to Thais. See you, Parmeno,
The slaves brouglit hither.
Pae. Sir, I will.
Pii/ED. My Thais,
For these two days farewell !
Thais. Farewell, my Pha3dria!
Would you aught else with me?
Ph^o. Augiit else, my Thais ?
Be with yon soldier i)resent, as if absent :
All night and day love me : still long for me :
Dream, ponder still of me ; wish, hope for me :
Delight in me ; be all in all with me ;
Give your whole heart, for mine's all yours, to me. {Exeunt.
414 THE EUNUCH. [Act IL
Scene HI.
Manet Thais.
Ah me ! I fear that he believes me not.
And judges of my heart from those of others.
I in my conscience know, that nothing false
I have deliver'd, nor to my true heart
Is any dearer than this Phasdria :
And whatsoe'er in this affair I've done,
For the girl's sake I've done : for I'm in hopes
I know her brother, a right noble youth.
To-day I wait him, by his own appointment ;
Wherefore I'll in, and tarry for his coming.
ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.
Pil.uSDRIA, PaRMENO.
Pii^DRiA, Carry the slaves according to my order.
Par. I will.
PpiiED. But diligently.
Par. Sir, I will.
PiiiED. But soon.
Par. I will. Sir !
Ph^d. Say, is it sufficient?
Par. Ah ! what a question 's that ? as if it were
So difficult ! I wish. Sir Phsedria,
You could gain aught so easy, as lose these.
PiiiED. I lose, what's dearer yet, my comfort with them.
Repine not at my gifts.
Par. Not I : moreover
I will convey them straight. But have you any
Other commands ?
Ph^d. Oh yes : set off our presents
With words as handsome as you can : and drive.
As much as possible, that rival from her !
Par. Ah, Sir, I should, of course, remember that.
Ph^d. I'll to the country, and stay there.
Par. O, aye! (Ironically.)
Pii/ED. But hark you !
Par. Sir, your pleasure?
Ph^d. Do you think
I can with constancy hold out, and not
Return before my time?
Par. Hold out? Not vou.
Re. II.] THE EUNUCH. 415
Either you'll straiglit return, or soon at niglit
Your dreams will drive you out o' doors.
PiiiED. I'll toil;
That, weary, I may sleep against my will.
Par. Weary 'you may be ; but you'll never sleep.
Ph.ed. Ah, Parmeno, you wrong me. I'll cast out
This treacherous softness from my soul, nor thus
Indulge my passions. Yes, I could remain,
If need, without her even three whole days.
Par. Ilui ! three whole livelong days ! consider, Sir.
PiiiED. I am resolved.
Parmeno alone.
Heav'ns, what a strange disease is tliis ! that love
Shoifld so change men, that one can hardly swear
They are the same! No mortal liv'd
Less weak, more grave, more temperate than he.
— But who comes yonder? — Gnatho, as I live;
The Captain's parasite ! and brings along
The Virgin for a present : oh rare wench I
How beautiful ! I shall come off, I doubt,
But scurvily with my decrepit Eunuch.
This Girl surpasses cv'n Thais herself.
Scene II.
Enter Gnatho leading Pami'Iiila ; Parmeno behind.
Gnat. Good Heav'ns ! how much one man excels another !
What diff'rence 'twixt a wise man and a fool!
What just now happen'd proves it : coming hither
I met with an old countryman, a man
Of my own place and order, like myself,
No scurvy fellow, v/ho, like m.e, had spent
In mirth and jollity his whole estate.
He was in a most wretched trim ; his looks
Lean, sick, and dirty ; and his clothes all rags.
How now! cried I, what means this figure, friend?
Alas ! says he, my patrimony's gone.
— Ah, how am I reduc'd ! my old acquaintance
And friends all shun me. — Hearing this, hov/ cheap
I held him in comparison with me !
Why, how now ? wretch, said I, most idle wretch !
Have you spent all, nor left ev'n hope behind ?
AVhat ! have you lost your sense with your estate ?
Me! — look on me — come from the same condition!
How sleek ! how neat ! how clad ! in what good case i
I've ev'ry thing, though nothing ; naught possess,
Yet naught I ever want. — Ah, Sir, but I
Have an unhappy temper, and can't bear
To be tlic butt of others, or to take
416 THE EUNUCH. [Act H.
A "beating now and then. — How then ! d'ye think
Those are the means of tliriving? No, my friend .'
Such formerly indeed might drive a trade :
But mine 's a new profession ; I the first
That ever struck into this road. Tiiere are
A kind of men, who wish to be the head
\ Of ev'ry thing ; but are not. These I follow ;
/ Not for their sport and laughter, but for gain
; To laugh with them, and wonder at their parts :
I "Whate'er they say, I praise it; if again
I They contradict, I praise that too : does any
i Deny ? I too deny : affirm ? I too
( Affirm : and in a word, I've brought myself
I To say, unsay, swear, and forswear, at pleasure :
[ And that is now the best of all professions. *
Par. a special fellow this ! who drives fools mad.
Gnat. Deep in tliis conversation, we at length
Come to the market, where the sev'ral tradesmen,
Butchers, cooks, grocers, poult'rers, fishmongers,
(Who once did profit and still profit by me.)
All run with joy to me, salute, invite.
And bid me welcome. He, poor half-starv'd v.^etch,
Soon as he saw me thus earess'd, and found
I got my bread so easily, desii-ed
He might have leave to learn that art of n\e.
I bade him foUov/ me, if possible :
And, as the Schools of the Philosophers
Have ta'eu from the Philosophers their names,
So, in like manner, let all Parasites
Be cali'd from me Gnathonics !
Par. Mark, what ease,
And being kept at other's cost, pi'oduces !
Gnat. But hold, I must convey this girl to Thais,
And bid her forth to sup. — Ha, Parmeno !
Our rival's slave, standing at Thais' door !
— How melancholy he appears ! All 's safe :
These i>oor rogues find but a cold welcome here.
I'll play upon this knave. (Aside.)
Par. These fellows think
This present will make Thais all their own. (Aside.)
Gnat. To Parmeno, his lov'd and honor'd friend,
Gnatho sends greeting. {Ironically.) — What are you >apon ?
Par. My legs.
Gnat. I see it. — Is there nothing here
DisjDleasing to you ?
Par. You.
Gnat. I do believe it.
But jn-ithee, is there nothing else?
Par. Wherefore?
Gnat. Because you're melancholy.
Par. Not at a\\.
Sc. III.] THE EVNUCH. 417
Gnat. Well, do not be so !— Pray, now, what d ye think
Of this young handmaid?
Par. Troth, she 's not amiss.
Gnat. I plague the rascal. {Half aside.)
Par. How the knave 's deceiv'd ! {Half aside.)
Gnat. AVill not this gift be very acceptable
To Thais, think you?
Par. You'd insinuate
That we're shut out. — There is, alas, a change
In all things.
Gnat. For these six months, Parmeno,
For six whole months at least, I'll make you easy ;
You sha'n't run up and down, ^nd watch till daylight;
Come, don't I make you happy?
Par. Very happy.
Gnat. 'Tis my way with my friends.
Par. You're very good.
Gnat. But I detain you : you, perhaps, was going
Somewhere else.
Par. Nowhere.
Gnat. May I beg you then
To use your int'rest here, and introduce me
To Thais?
Par. Hence ! away ! these doors
Fly open now, because you carry her.
Gnat. Would you have any one call'd forth? {Exit.
Par. Well, well!
Pass but two days ; and you, so welcome now,
That the doors open with your little finger,
Shall kick against them then, I warrant you,
Till your heels ache again.
lie-enter Gnatiio.
Gnat. Ha ! Parmeno !
Are you here still ? What ! are you left a spy,
Lest 'any go-between should run by stealth
To Thais from the Captain? {Exit.
Par. Very smart !
No wonder such a wit delights the Captain!
But hold ! I see, my master's younger son
Coming this way. I wonder much he should
Desert Piraius, where he 's now on guard.
'Tis not for nothing. All in haste he comes,
And seems to look about.
Scene III.
Enter Chorea ; Parmeno behind.
Ch^r. Undone ! undone !
The Girl is loL-t ; I know not where she is,
S 2
418 THE EUNUCH. [Act II.
Nor where I am : ah, whither shall I trace ?
Where seek ? of whom inquire ? or which Avay turn ?
I'm all uncertain ; but have one hope still :
Where'er she is, she can not long lie hid.
Oh charming face ! all others from my memory
Hence I blot out. Away with common beauties !
Par. So, here's the other ! and he mutters too
I know not what of love. Oh what a poor
Unfortunate old man their father is !
As for this stripling, if he once begin.
His brother's is but jest and children's play
To his mad fury.
CHiER. Twice ten thousand curses
Seize the old wu-etch, who kept me back to-day ;
And me for staying ! with a fellow too
I did not care a farthing for ! — But see !
Yonder stands Parmeno. — Good-day !
Par. How now?
WHierefore so sad ? and why this hurry, Charea ?
Whence come you?
Ch^r. I? I can not tell, i' faith.
Whence I am come, or whither I am going,
I've so entirely lost myself.
Par. And why?
Ch.er. I am in love.
Par. Oh brave !
Ch^r. Now, Parmeno,
Now you may show what kind of man you are.
You know you've often told me ; Chajrea,
Find something out to set your heart upon.
And mark how I will serve you ! yes, you know
You've often said so, when I scrap'd together
All the provisions for you at my father's.
Par. Away, you trifler!
Ch^r. Nay, in faith, it's true :
Now make your promise good ! and in a cause
Worthy the utmost Teachings of your soul :
A girl ! my Parmeno, not like our misses ;
Whose mothers try to keep their shoulders do\^Ti,
And bind their bosoms, that their shapes may seem
Genteel and slim. Is a girl rather i>lump ?
They call her nurse, and stint her in her food:
Thus art, in s])ite of nature, m.akes them all
Mere bulrushes : and therefore they're belov'd.
Par. And what's this girl of yours ?
Ch^r. a miracle.
Par. Oh, to be sure !
Ch^r. True, natui'al red and white ;
Her body firm, and full of precious stuff!
Par. Her age ?
Cii.ER. About sixteen.
So. III.] THE EUNUCH. 419
Par. Tlic vcrv prime !
Cn.EK. This girl, by force, by stealth, or by entreaty,
Procure me ! how I care not, so I have her.
Par. Well, whom does she belong to?
Ch/ER. I don't know.
Par. Whence comes she ?
Ch^r. I can't tell.
Par. Where does she live ?
Ch.er. I can't tell neither.
Par. Where Avas it you saw her?
Ch^r. Here in the street.
Par. And how was it you lost her ?
Cii^R. Why it was that, which I*so fumed about,
As I came hither! nor was ever man
So jilted by good fortune as myself.
Par. What mischief now?
Ch^r. Confounded luck.
Par. How so?
Ch^r. How so! d'ye know one Archidemides,
My father's kinsman, and about his age ?
Par. Full well.
Cii^R. As I was in pursuit of her
He met me.
Par. Kather inconveniently.
CiiiER. Oh most unhappily ! for other ills
May be told, Parraeno ! — I could svv'ear too,
Por six, nay seven months, I had not seen him,
Till now, when least I wish'd and most would shun it.
Is not this monstrous ? Eh !
Par. Oh! very monstrous.
Cii-iiR. Soon as from far he saw me, instantly,
Bent, trembling, drop-jaw'd, gasping, out of breath,
He hobbled up to me. — Holo! ho!"Cha3rea! —
I stopp'd. — D'ye know what I want with you ? — Wliat ?
— I have a cause to-morrow. — Well ! what then ? —
— Fail not to tell your father, he remember
To go up with me, as an advocate.
His prating took some time. Aught else? said I.
Nothing, said he : — Away flew I, and saw
The girl that instant turn into this street.
Par. Sure he must mean the virgin, just nov/ brouglit
To Thais for a present.
CiiiER. Soon as I
Came hither, she was out of sight.
Par. Had she
Any attendants?
Ch^r. Yes; a parasite,
With a maid-servant.
Par. 'Tis the very same:
Away! have done! all's over.
CiiiER. What d'vc mean?
420 THE EUNUCH. [Act H,
Par. The giii I mean.
CHiER. D'ye know then who she is ?
Tell me! — or have you seen her?
Par, Yes, I've seen her;
I know her ; and can tell you where she is.
Ch^r. Hov/ ! my dear Parmeno, d'ye know her ?
Par. Yes.
Ch^r. And where she is, d'ye know?
Par. Yes, — there she is ; (Pointing.^
Carried to Madam Thais for- a present.
Ch^r. What monarch could bestow a gift so precious ?
Par. The mighty Captain Thraso, Phaedria's rival.
Ch^r. Alas, poor brother!
Par. Aye, and if you knew
The gift he sends to be compar'd with this,
You'd cry alas, indeed!
CiiyER. What is his gift?
Par. An Eunuch.
Ch.er. What! that old and ugly slave
That he bought yesterday?
Par. The very same.
CHiER. Why, surely, he'll be trundled out o' doors
He and his gift together — I ne'er knew
Till now that Thais was our neighbor.
Par. She
Has not been long so.
CruER. Ev'ry way unlucky :
Ne'er to have seen her neither: — Prithee, tell me,
Is she so handsome, as she's said to be?
Par. Yes, faith?
Ch.i:r. But nothing to compare to mine.
Par. Oh, quite another thing.
Ch^r. But Parmeno!
Contrive that I may have her.
Par. Well, I will.
Depend on my assistance: — have you any
Further commands ? (^As if going.')
Ch^r. Where are you going?
Par. Home ;
To bring according to your brother's order,
The slaves to Thais.
CiiiER. Oh, that happy Eunuch!
To be convey'd into that house !
Par. Why so?
CiLER. Why so ? why, he shall have that charming girl
His fellow-servant, see her, speak with her,
Be with her in the same house all day long,
And sometimes eat, and sometimes sleep by hei'.
Par. And what if you should be so happy?
Ch^r. How?
Tell mc, dear Parmeno !
Sc. III.] THE^UNUCH. 421
Par. Assume his dress.
Ch^r. His dress ! what tiien ?
Par. I'll carry yon for him.
Ch^r. I hear you. .
Par. I will say that you are he.
Ch^r. I understand you.
Par. So shall you enjoy
Those blessings which but now you envied hini :
Eat with her, be with her, touch, toy with her,
And sleep by her : since none of Thais' maids
Know you, or dream of what you are. Besides,
Your figure, and your age are such, that you
May well pass for an Eunuch.
Cii^R. Oh, well said!
I ne'er heard better counsel. Come, let's in?
Dress me, and carry me! Away, make haste!
Par. What are you at ? I did but jest.
Ch^r. You trifle.
Par. I'm ruin'd : fool, what have I done ? Nay, whither
D'ye push me thus? You'll throw me down. Nay, stay!
CuiER. Away.
Par. Nay, prithee!
CHiER. I'm resolv'd.
Par. Consider;
You carry this too far.
CiiiER. No, not at all.
Give way!
Par. And Parmeno must pay for all.
Ah, we do wrong!
CiiJER. Is it then wrong for me
To be convey'd into a house of harlots.
And turn those very arts on them, with which
They hamper us, and turn our youth to scorn ?
Can it be wrong for me too, in my turn.
To deceive them, by whom we're all deceiv'd?
No, rather let it be ! 'tis just to play
This trick upon them: which, if gray-beards know,
They'll blame indeed, but all will think well done.
Par. Well, if you must, you must ; but do not then,
After all's over, throw the blame on me.
Ch^r. No, no!
Par. But do you order me?
Ch^r. I do: •
Order, command, force.
Par. Oh, I'll not dispute
Your pow'r. So, follow me.
Ch^r. Heav'n speed the plow.
422 THE EUI^CH. [Act III
ACT THE THIRD.
Scene I. *
Enter TiiiiAso and Gnatho.
Thraso. And Thais then returns mo many thanks?
Gnat. Ten thousand.
Thka. Say, is she delighted with it?
Gnat. Not so much with the gift itself, as that
By you 'twas given : but therein she triumphs.
Enter PAnMENO behind.
Pae. I'm come to look about me, and observe
A proper opportunity to bring
My presents. But behold the Captain !
Thka. 'Tis
Something, I know not how, peculiar to me,
That all I do 's agreeable.
Gnat. In truth
I have observ'd it.
Thra. E'en the King always
Held himself much obliged, whate'er I did :
Not so to others.
Gnat. Men of wit, like you.
The glory, got by others' care and toil,
Often transfer unto themselves.
Thra. You've hit it.
Gnat. The king then held you
Thra. Certainly.
Gnat. Most dear.
Thra. Most near. He trusted his Avhole army to me,
His counsels.
Gnat. Wonderful!
Thra. And then whene'er
Satiety of company, or hate
Of business seiz'd him — when he would repose —
As if you understand me.
Gnat. Perfectly.
When he would — in a manner — clear his stomach
Of all imeasiness.
Thra. The very thing. •
On such occasions he chose none but me.
Gnat. Hui ! there's a king indeed ! a king of taste !
Thra. One of a thousand.
Gnat. Of a million sure !
— If he could live with you. {Aside.)
Thra. The courtiers all
Began to envy me, and rail'd in secret :
I car'd not; whence their spleen increas'd the more.
Sc. I.J THE EUNUCH. 423
One in particular, who liad tlie charge
Of th' Indian elephants ; who grew at last
So very troublesome, " I prithee, Strato,
Are you so savage, and so fierce, (says I,)
Because you're governor of the wild beasts?"
Gnat. Oh, finely said! and shrewdly! excellent!
Too hard upon him! — what said he to't?
TiiRA. Nothing.
Gnat. And how the devil should he?
Par. Gracious Heav'n !
The stupid coxcomb! — and that rascal too! (Aside.)
Thra. Aye ! but the story of the Rhodian, Gnatho !
How smart I was upon him at a feast
Did I ne'er tell you?
Gnat. Never: but pray do!
— I've heard it o'er and o'er a thousand times, (Aside.)
Thra. We were by chance together at a feast
This Rhodian, that I told you of and I. —
I, as it happen'd, had a wench : the spark
Began to toy with her, and laugh at me.
" Why how now, Impudence ! (said I,) are you
A hare vourself, and yet would hunt for gamef^
Gnat."' Ha! ha! ha!
Thra. What's the matter?
Gnat. Ha! ha! ha!
Witty! smart! excellent! incomparable!
Is it your own ? I swear I thought 'twas old.
Thra. Why, did you ever hear it ?
Gnat. Very often ;
And reckon'd admirable.
Thra. 'Tis my own.
Gnat. And yet 'twas pity to be so severe
On a young fellow, and a gentleman.
Par. Ah ! devil take you ! {Aside.)
Gnat. What became of him ?
Thra. It did for him. The company were all
Ready to die with laughing : — in a word.
They dreaded me.
Gnat. No wonder.
Thra. Harkye, Gnatho !
Thais, you know, suspects I love this girl.
Shall I acquit myself?
Gnat. On no account.
Rather increase her jealousy.
Thra. And why ?
Gnat. Why ?— do you ask ?— as if you didn't know !—
Whene'er she mentions Phredria, or whene'er
She praises him, to vex you
Thra. I perceive.
Gnat. To hinder that, you've only this resource.
When she names Phsedria, name you Pamphila.
424 THE EUNUCH. [Act HI.
If she should say, come ! let's have Phoedria
To dinner with us ! — aye, and Pamphila
To sing to us ! — if she praise Phaidria's person,
Praise you the girl's! so give her tit for tat,
And gall her in her turn,
Thra. Suppose she lov'd me.
This might avail me, Gnatho !
Gnat. While she loves
The presents which you give, expecting more.
So long she loves you; and so long you may
Have pow'r to vex her. She will always fear
To make you angry, lest some other reap
The harvest, Avhich she now enjoys alone.
Thra. You're right : and yet I never thought of it.
Gnat. Ridiculous! because you did not turn
Your thoughts that way; or with how much more ease
Would you have hit on this device yourself!
Scene II.
Enter Thais and Pythias.
Thais. I thought I heard the Captain's voice : and see !
Good-day, my Thraso !
Thra. Oh ray Thais, welcome!
How does my sweeting? — are you fond of me
For sending you that music-girl?
Par. Oh brave !
He sets out nobly!
Thais. For your worth I love you.
Gnat. Come, let's to supper? why do you delay?
Par. Mark t'other ! he's a chip of the old block.
Thais, I'm ready when you please.
Par. I'll up to her.
And seem as if but now come forth. — Ha! Thais,
Where are you gadding?
Thais. Well met, Parmeno!
I was just going
Par. Whither?
Thais. Don't vou see
The Captain?
Par. Yes, I see him — to my sorrow.
The presents from my master wait your pleasure.
Thra. Why do Vv'e stop thus? wherefore go not hence?
{Angrily.)
Par. Beseech you. Captain, let us, with your leave.
Produce our presents, treat, and parley with her!
Thra. Fine gifts, I warrant you, compar'd with mine !
Par. They'll answer for themselves — Holo, there! order
The slaves, I told you, to come forth. — Here, this way!
Sc. IL] THE EUNUCH. 425
Enter a Black Girl.
Do you stcand forward! — This girl, ma'am, comes quite
From Ethiopia.
TiiRA. Worth about three Minaj.
GxAT. Scarce.
Par. Ho! where are you, Dorus?— Oh, come liithcr!
Enter CniERKA in the Eunuch's habit.
An Eunuch, Madam! of a lib'ral air,
And in his prime!
Thais. Now as I live, he's handsome !
Par, What say you, Gnatho? Is he despicable?
Or, Captain, what say you ?— Dumb ?— Praise sufficient;
Try him in letters, exercises, music:
In all the arts, a gentleman should know,
I'll warrant him accomplish'd.
Tiira. Troth, that Eunuch
Is well enough.
Par. And he, who sends these presents,
Requires you not to live for him alone.
And for his sake to shut out all mankind:
Nor does he tell his battles, show his wounds,
Or shackle your free will, as some folks do.
{Looking at Thraso.)
But when 'twill not be troublesome, or when
You've leisure, in due season, he's content
If then he is admitted.
Thra. This poor fellow
Seems to belong to a poor wretched master.
Gnat. Beyond all doubt ; for who that could obtain
Another, would endure a slave like this?
Par. Peace, wretch, that art below the meanest slave !
You that could bring your mind so very low.
As to cry aye and no at yon fool's bidding,
I'm sure^ might get your bread out o' the fire.
Thra. Why don't we go? {Impatiently.)
Thais. Let me but carry in
• These first, and give some orders in the house,
And I'll attend you.
{Exit loith CiiiEREA, and the Ethiopian.
Thra. I'll depart from hence.
Gnatho, wait you for her!
Par. It ill beseems
The dignity of a renown'd commander,.
T' escort his mistress *in the street.
Thra. Away,
Slave! you're beneath my notice — like your master.
{Exit Parmeno.
Gnat. Ha! ha! ha! ha!
Thra. What moves your laughter?
Gnat. That
426 THE EUNUCH. [Act HI.
You said just now : and then the Rhodian came
Across my mind. But Thais comes.
Thra. Go run,
And 'see that ev'ry tiling's pvepai-'d at home !
Gnat. It shall be done. {Exit.
Thais (enterhg ivith Pythias). Take care now, Pythias,
Great care, if Ch.vemes come, to press him stay ;
Or, if that's inconvenient, to return :
If that's impossible, then bring him to me !
Pyth. I'll do so.
Thais. Hold! what else had I to say?
Take care, be sure, of yonder virgin ! see,
You keep at home.
Thra. Let's go.
Thais. Girls, follow me !
(Exit, attended hij Servants and Thraso.
SCEXE III.
CiiiiEMES alone.
In truth the more and more I think, the more
I am convinc'd that Thais means me ill:
So plain I see her arts to draw me in.
Ev'n when she first invited me, (and when
Had any ask'd, What business have you there ?
The question would have stagger'd me,) she fram'd
Sev'ral excuses to detain me there.
Said she had made a sacrifice, and had
Affairs of consequence to settle with me.
— Oho! thought I immediately, I smell
A trick upon me! — down she sat, behav'd
Familiarly, and tried to beat about
For conversation. Being at a loss.
She ask'd, how long my parents had been dead?
— I told her, long time since : — on which she ask'd,
Whether I had a country-house at Sunium ?
— And how far from the sea? — I half believe
She likes my villa, and would wheedle me
To give it her. — Her final questions were.
If I ne'er lost a little sister thence?
■ — Who was miss'd with her? — what she had when lost?
If any one could know her? Why should Thais
Demand all this, unless, — a saucy baggage! —
She means to play the counterf(^it, and feign
Herself that s.ister? — but if she's alive.
She is about sixteen, not more ; Thais
Is elder than myself. — She sent beside
To beg I'd come again. — Or, let her say
What she would have ; or, not be troublesome !
I'll not return a third time. — Ho! who's there?
Here am I! Chremes!
,Sc. VI.] THE EUNUCH. 427
Scene IV.
Enter Pythias.
Pytii. Ob, sweet, charming, Sir!
Chre. a coaxing hussy!
Pyth. Thais begs and prays
You'd come again to-morrow.
Cure. I am going
Into the country.
Pyth. Nay, now prithee come !
Chre. I can't, I tell you.
Pyth, Walk in, then, and stay
Till she rctuir.s hjixjU".
Chre. Not I.
Pyth. And why,
Dear Chremes ?
Chre. Go, and hang yourself!
Pyth. Well, Sir,
Since you're so positive, shall I entreat you
To go to her ?
Chre. I will.
Pyth. Here, Dorias ! {A viaid-servant enteis.)
Conduct this gentleman to Captain Thraso's.
(Pythias re-enters. — Chreme.s goes out another way icith
Dorias.)
Scexe V.
Axtipho alone.
But yesterday a knot of us young fellows
Assembled at Pirajus, and agreed
To club together for a feast to-day.
Chorea had charge of all ; the rings were given,
And time and place appointed. — The time's past;
No entertainment's at the place; and Chaerea
Is nowhere to be found. — I can't tell what
To think on't. — Yet the rest of my companions
Have all commission'd me to seek him out.
ni see if he's at home; — but who comes here
lu-om Thais ?— Is it he, or no ?— 'Tis he.
— What manner of man's here ? — what habit's that ?
— What mischief has the rogue been at? I'm all
Astonishment, and can not guess. — But I'll
Withdrav/ a while, and try to find it out. (Retires.)
Scene VI.
Enter Cnii:nEA, in the Etmuch's habit.
CiiiKR. (looking ahout). Is any body here ? — No, nobody.
Does any follow mc ? — No, nobody.
428 THE EUNUCH [Act HI.
May I then let my ecstasy break fortli !
0 Jupiter ! 'tis now the very time,
When I could suffer to be put to death,
Lest not another transport like to this.
Remain in life to come. — But is there not
Some curious impertinent to come
Across me now, and murder me with questions ?
— To ask, why I'm so flutter'd? why so joyful?
Whither I'm going? Avhence I came? and where
1 got this habit? what I'm looking after?
Whether I'm in my senses ? or stark mad ?
Anti. I'll go myself, and do that kindness to him.
Chcerea, (advancing,') what's all this flutter? what's this dress?
What is't transports you? what d'ye want? art mad?
Why do ye start at me? and why not speak?
CiiiER. O happy, happy day ! — Save you, dear friend !
There's not a man on earth I'd rather see
This moment than yourself.
Anti. Come, tell me all !
Cii.icR. Tell you ! I vv'ill beseech you give me hearing. .
D'ye know ray brother's mistress here?
Anti. Yes: Tiuiis,
Or I'm decciv'd,
CiiiEU. The same.
Anti. I do remember,
CiiiER, To-day a girl was sent a present to her.
Why need I speak or praise her beauty now
To you, that know me, and my taste so well ?
She set me all on fire.
Anti. Is she so handsome?
Ch.^r. Most exquisite: Oh, had 3'ou but once seen her,
You would pronounce her, I am confident.
The first of womankind. — But to be brief,
I fell in love with her. — By great good luck
There was at home an Eunuch, which my brother
Had bought for Thais, but not yet sent thither.
— I had a gentle hint from Parmeno,
Which I seiz'd greedily.
Anti. And what was that?
CiiiER. Peace, and I'll tell you. — To change dresses with
And order Parmeno to carry me [him,
Instead of him.
• Anti. How ? for an Eunuch, you ?
CiiiER. E'en so.
Anti. What good could you derive from that ?
Chz-er. What good! — why, see, and hear, and be with her
I languish'd for, my Antipho I — was that
An idle reason, or a trivial good?
— To Thais I'm deliver'd; she receives mc,
And carries me with joy into her house;
Commit.^ the channiu'' fri.l
Sc. VI.] THE EUNUCH. 429
Anti. To whom? to you?
Ch^r. To me.
Anti. In special hands, I must confess.
CiiJEU. — Enjoins me to permit no man come near her ;
Nor to depart, myself, one instant from her ;
But in an inner chamber to remain
Alone with her alone. I nod, and look
Bashfully on the gi'ound.
Anti. Poor simple soul!
Chjer. I am bid forth, says she; and carries off
All her maid-servants with her, save some few
Raw novices, who straight prepar'd the bath.
I bade them haste ; and while it was preparing.
In a retiring-room the Virgin sat;
Viewing a picture, where the tale was drawn
Of Jove's descending in a golden show'r
To Danai's bosom. 1 beheld it too,
And because he of old the like game play'd,
I felt my mind exult the more within me,
That Jove should change himself into a man,
And steal in secret through a stranger- roof, ,
With a mere woman to intrigue. — Great Jove,
Who shakes the highest heav'ns with his thunder!
And I, poor mortal man, not do the same ! —
I did it, and with all my heart I did it.
— While thoughts, like these, possess'd my soul, they call'd
The girl to bathe. She goes, bathes, then returns :
Which done, the servants put her into bed.
I stand to wait their orders. Up comes one,
Here, harkye, Dorus ! take this fan and mark
You cool her gently thus, while wc go bathe.
When we have bath'd, you, if yo* please, bathe too,
I, with a sober air, receive the fan.
Anti. Then would I fain have seen your simple face !
I should have been delighted to behold
How like an ass you look'd, and held the fan.
CiiiEU. Scarce had she spoke, when all rush'd out o' doors ;
Away they go to bathe ; grow full of noise,
As servants vise, when masters are abroad.
Meanwhile sleep seiz'd the virgin: I, by stealth,
Peep'd through the fan-sticks thus ; then looking round,
And seeing all was safe, made fast the door.
Anti. What then?
Cii^R. What then, fool!
Anti. I confess.
Ch^r. D'ye think,
Bless'd Avith an opportunity like this.
So short, so wish'd for, yet so unexpected,
I'd let it slip ? No. Then I'd been, indeed,
The thing I counterfeited.
430 THE EUNUCH. [Act IV.
Anti. Very true.
But what's become of our club-supper?
CajEU. Ready,
Anti. An honest fellow! where? at your own house?
Ch^r. At Freeman Discus's.
Anti. A great way off.
Cbler. Then we must make more haste.
Anti. But change your dress.
CiiJER. Where can I change it ? I'm distress'd. From home
I must play truant, lest I meet my brother.
My father too, perhaps, is come to town.
Anti. Come then to my house ! that's the nearest place
Where you may shift.
Ch^er. With all my heart ! let's go !
And at the same time, I'll consult with you
How to enjoy this dear girl.
Anti. Be it so.
ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENK I.
Enter Dorias, icith a Casket.
DORIAS.
Now, as I hope for mercy, I'm afraid.
From what I've seen, lest yonder swaggerer
Make some disturbance, or do violence
To Thais. For as soon as Chremes came,
(The youth that's broUier to the virgin,) she
Beseech'd of Thraso he might be admitted.
This piqu'd him ; yet he durst not well refuse.
She, fearing Chremes should not be detain'd,
Till she had time and opportunity
To tell him all she wish'd about his sister,
Urg'd Thraso more and more to ask him in.
The Captain coldly asks him ; down he sat ;
And Thais enter'd into chat with him.
The Captain, fancying a rival brought
Before his face, resolv'd to vex her too :
Here, boy, said he, let Pamphila be call'd
To entertain us ! — Pamphila ! cries Thais ;
She at a banquet? — No it must not be. —
Thraso insisting on't, a broil ensued:
On which my mistress slyly slipping off
Her jewels, gave them me to bear away ;
Which is, I know, a certain sign, she will,
As soon as possible, sneak off herself. Exit.)
Sc. III.] THE EUNUCH. 431
Scene II.
Enter Pii^edria.
PiiiED. Going into the country, I began
(As happens when the mind is ill at ease)
To ponder with myself upon the road,
Tossing from thought to thought, and viewing all
In the worst light. While thus I ruminate,
I pass unconsciously my country-house,
And had got far beyond, ere I perceiv'd it.
I turn'd about, but with a heavy heart ;
And soon as to the very spot I came
Where the roads part, I stop. Then paus'd a while:
Alas! thought I, and must I here remain
Two days? alone: without her? — Well! what then?
That's nothing. — What, is't nothing ? — If I've not
The privilege to touch her, shall I not
Behold her neither ? — If one may not be,
At least the other shall. — And certainly
Love, in its last degree, is something still.
— Then I, on purpose, pass'd the house. — But see!
Pythias breaks forth affrighted. — What means this?
Scene III.
Enter Pythias and Dohias ; Pii.edria at a distance.
Pytii. Where shall I find, unhappy that I am.
Where seek this rascal-slave? — tliis slave, that durst
To do a deed like this ? — Undone ! undone !
Ph^ed. What this may be, I dread.
Pyth. And then the villain.
After he had abused the virgin, tore
The poor girl's clothes, and dragg'd her by the hair.
Pii^D. How's this !
Pyth. V/ho, were he now within my reach,
How could I fiy upon the vagabond,
And tear the villain's eyes out with my nails ?
PHiED, What tumult's this, arisen in my absence ?
I'll go and ask \iQx.-^{Go'mg tiji.) What's the matter, Pythias?
Why thus disturb'd ? and whom is it you seek ?
Pytii. Whom do I seek? Away, Sir Phaidria !
You and your gifts together !
Pii^D. What's the matter?
Pytii. The matter, Sir! the Eunuch, that you sent us,
Has made fine v.^ork here ! the young virgin, whom
The Captain gave ray mistress, he has ravish'd.
Pii^D. Ravish'd? How say you?
Pyth. Ruin'd, and undone !
Ph^d. You're drunk.
432 THE EUNUCH. [Act IV.
Pyth. Would those who wish me ill were so !
DoRi. Ah Pythias ! what strange prodigy is this ?
Ph^d. You're mad : how could an Eunuch
Pyth. I don't know
Or who, or what he was. — What he has done,
The thing itself declares. The virgin weeps,
Nor, when you ask what ails her, dare she tell.
But he, good man, is nowhere to be found :
And I fear too, that when he stole away,
He carried something off,
Phjed. I can't conceive
Whither tlie rascal can have flown, unless
He to our house, perhaps, slunk back again.
Pyth. See now, I pray you, if he has.
PHiED. I will. " {Exit.
DoRi. Good lack ! so strange a thing I never heard.
Pyth. I've heard, that they lov'd women mightily
But could do nothing ; yet I never thought on't :
For if I had, I'd have confin'd him close
In some by-placc, nor trusted the girl to him.
Scene IV.
Re-enter Ph^edria, icith Dorus the Enniich, in Chorea's clothes.
'PiiMY). Out, rascal, out ! — What are you resty. Sirrah ?
Out, thou vile bargain !
Dor. Dear Sir! {Crying.)
Ph^d. Sfee the wretch!
What a wry mouth he makes ! — Come, what's the meaning
Of your returning ? and your change of dress ?
What answer. Sirrah ! — If I had delay'd
A minute longer, Pythias, I had miss'd him,
He was equipp'd so bravely for his flight.
Pyth. What, have you got the rogue?
Ph^d. I warrant you.
Pyth. Well done l' well done !
DoRi. Aye, many, very well.
Pyth. Where is he?
Phjed. Don't you see him?
Pyth. See him? whom?
Ph^d. This fellow, to be sure.
Pyth. This man ! who is he ?
Paa;D. He that was carried to your house to-day.
Pyth. None of our people ever laid their eyes
Upon this fellow, Pha^dria !
Ph^d. Never saw him?
Pyth. W^hy, did vou think this fellow had been brought
To us?
Ph^d. Yes, surely ; for I had no other.
Pyth. Oh dear ! this fellow's not to be compar'd
To t'other. He was elegant, and handsome.
Sc. IV.] THE EUNUCH. 433
Ph^d. Aye, so he might appear a while ago,
Because he had gay clothes on : now he seems
Ugly, because he's stripped.
Pyth. Nay, prithee, peace !
As if the difFrence was so very small !
The youth conducted to our house to-day,
'Twould do you good to cast your eyes on, Phtcdria :
This is a dro\YSv, witlicr'd, wcasel-fac'd,
Old fellow.
PHiED. How ? you drive me to that pass,
That I scarce know what I have done myself.
— Did not I buy you, rascal? {To DoRUS.)
Dor. Yes, Sir.
Pyth. Order him
To answer me.
Ph^^d. Well, question him.
Pyth. {to Dorus). Was you
Brought here to-day ? {Shakes his head.') See there ! Not
he. It was
Another, a young lad, about sixteen,
Whom Parmeno brought with him.
Ph^ied. (to Dorus). Speak to me!
First tell me, whence had you that coat ? What, dumb ?
I'll make you speak, you villain? {Beating him.)
Dor. Chcerea came {Crying.)
Ph^d. My brother?
Dor. Yes, Sir!
PHiED. When?
Dor. To-day.
PHiED. How long since?
Dor. Just now.
Ph^d. With whom?
Dor. With Parmeno.
Ph^ed. Did you
Know him before ?
Dor. No, Sir ; nor e'er heard of him.
Ph^d. How did you know then that he was my brother?
Dor. Parmeno told me so ; and Chserea
Gave me these clothes-
Ph^d. Confusion! {Aside.)
Dor. Put on mine ;
And then they both went out o' doors together.
Pyth. -Now, Sir, do you believe that I am sober?
Now do you think, I've told no lie? And now
Are you convinc'd the girl has been abus'd !
Ph^d. Away, fool ! d'ye believe what this wretch says ?
Pyth. What signifies belief? — It speaks itself.
Ph^d. {apart to Dorus). Come this way — hark ye ! fur-
ther still. Enough.
Tell me once more. Did Chrerea strip you?
Dor. Yes.
T
434 THE EUNUCH. [Act IV.
Ph^d. And put Tour clothes on?
Dor. Yes, Sir ! "
Ph^d. And was brought
In your stead hither?
Dor. Yes.
Ph^ed. Great Juintcr! {Pretending to he in a jyassion with him.')
What a most -wicked scoundrel 's this ?
Pytii. Alas !
Don't you believe, then, we've been vilely us'd ?
Ph^d. No wonder if you credit what he says.
I don't knoAV what to do. {Aside.) — Here, harkye, Sirrah !
Deny it all again. {Apart to Dorus.) — What ! can't I beat
The truth out of you, rascal? — have you seen
My brother Chtcrea ? {Almtd, and heating him.)
Dor. No, Sir! {Crying.)
Ph^ed. So ! I sec
He won't confess without a beating. — This way ! (Apart.)
Now
He owns it ; nov»^ denies it. — Ask my pardon ! (Apca-t.)
Dor. Beseech you. Sir, forgive me !
Pn.iiD. Get you gone. {Kicking him.)
Oh me ! oh dear ! {Exit, hoivUng.
PhxED. {aside). I had no other way
To come off handsomely. — We're all undone.
— D'ye think to play your tricks on me, you rascal?
{Aloud, and Exit ajter DoRuy.
Scene V.
Mancnt Pythias and Dorias.
Pytii. As sure as I'm alive, this is a tri*k
Of Parmeno's.
DoRi. No doubt on't.
Pytii. I'll devise
Some means to-day to fit him for't. — But now
What would you have me do ?
DoRi. About the girl!
Pytii. Aye; shall I tell; or keep the matter secret?
DoRi. Troth, if you're wise you know not what you know,
Ilfor of the Eunuch, nor the ravishment:
So shall you clear yourself of all this trouble,
And do a kindness to our mistress too.
Say nothing, but that Dorus is gone off.
Pytii. I'll do so.
DoRi. Prithee is not Chremes yonder?
Thais will soon be here.
Pyth. How so ?
DoRi. Because
When I came thence, a quarrel was abroach
Among them.
Sc. Vn.J THE EUNUCH. 435
Pyth. Carry in the jewels, Dorias.
Meanwhile I'll learn of Chremes what has happen'd.
{Exit Dorias.
Scene VL
Enter Chremes iipsij.
CniiEM. So! so! — I'm in for't — and the wine I've drank
Has made me reel again. — Yet while I sat,
How sober I suppos'd myself! — But I
No sooner rose, than neither foot, nor head,
Knew their own business !
Pyth. Chremes !
Chrem. Who's that?— Ha!
Pythias ! — How much more handsome you seem now,
Than you appear'd a little Avhile ago !
Py'th. I'm sure you seem a good deal merrier.
Chrem. I' faith it's an old saying, and a true one,
"Ceres and Bacchus arc warm friends of Venus."
— But, pray, has Thais been here long before mc?
Pi'TH. Has she yet left the Captain's?
Chrem. Long time since :
An age ago. They've had a bloody quarrel.
Pyth. Did not she bid you follow her?
Chrem. Not she:
Only she made a sign to me at parting.
Pyth. Well, wasn't that enough?
Chrem. No, faith! I did not
At all conceive her meaning, till the Captain
GaA^e me the hint, and kick'd me out o' doors !
— But here she is ! I wonder how it was,
I overtook her!
Scene VII.
Enter Thais.
Thais. I am apt to think,
The Captain will soon follow me, to take
The virgin from me: Well then, let him cornel
But if he does but lay a finder on her,
We'll tear his eyes out. — His impertinence,
And big words, while mere v/ords, I can endure ;
But if he comes to action, woe be to him !
Chrem. Thais, I have been here some time.
Thais. My Chremes !
The very man I wanted ! — Do you know
That you have been th' occasion of this quarrel ?
And that this whole affair relates to you?
Chkem. To me ! how so ?
436 THE EUNUCH. [Act IV.
Thais. Because, while I endeavor,
And study to restore your sister to you,
This and much more I've suiFer'd.
Chrem. Where's my sister?
Thais. Within, at my house.
Chrem. Ha ! ( With concern.)
Thais. Be not alarm'd:
She has been well brought up, and in a manner
Worthy herself and you.
Chrem. Indeed?
Thais. Tis true:
And now most freely I restore her to you,
Demanding nothing of you in return.
Chrem. I feel your goodness, Thais, and shall ever
Remain much bounden to you.
Thais. Aye, but now
Take heed, my Chremes, lest ere you receive
The maid from me, you lose her! for 'tis she.
Whom now the Captain comes to take by storm.
— ^Pythias, go, fetch the casket with the proofs !
Chrem. D'ye see him, Thais? {Looking out.)
Pyth. Where's the casket plac'd?
Thais. Plac'd in the cabinet. — ^D'yc loiter, hussy?
(Exit Pythias.
Chre3I. What force the Captain brings with him against
you!
Good Heav'n!
Thais. Are you afraid, young gentleman?
Chrem. Away ! — who ? I ? afraid ? — There is no man
Alive less so.
Thais. You'd need be stout at present.
Chrem. What kind of man d'ye take me for?
Thais. Consider,
He, whom you've now to cope with, is a stranger
Less powerful than you, less known, and less
Befriended here than you !
Chrem. I know all that:
But why, like fools, admit what we may shun ?
Better prevent a wrong, than afterward
Revenge it, when receiv'd Do you step in,
And bolt the door, while I run to the Forum,
And call some officers to •ur assistance. (Going.)
Thais. Stay! (Holding him.)
Chrem. 'Twill be better.
Thais. Hold!
Chrem. Nay, let me go !
I'll soon be back.
Thais. We do not want them, Chremes.
Say, only, that this maiden is your sister,
And that you lost her when a child, and now
Know her again for vours.
Sc. VIIL] TPIE EUNUCH. 437
Enter Pythias.
Thais {to Ptth.) Produce the proofs!
Pyth. Here they are.
* Thais. Take them, ChremesI — If the Captain
Attempts to do you any violence,
Lead him before a magistrate. D'ye mark mc-?
Chrem. I do.
Thais. Be sure now speak with a good courage !
Chrem. I will.
Thais. Come, gather up your cloak. Undone !
Pve got a champion, who wants help himself. {Exeunt.
Scene VIK.
Enter Thraso, Gnatho, Sanga, etc.
Thraso. Shall I put up with an affront so gross,
So monstrous, Gnatho? — No, I'd rather die.
Simalio, Donax, Syrus, follow me !
First, I will storm their castle.
Gnat. Excellent !
Thra. Next carry off the Virgin.
Gnat. Admirable !
Thra. Then punish Thais herself.
Gnat. Incomparable !
Thra. Here, in the centre, Donax, with your club]
Do you, Simalio, charge on the left wing*
You, Syrus, on the right ! — Bring up the rest !
Where's the Centurion Sanga, and his band
Of rascal runaways ?
San. Here, Sir !
Thra. How now ?
Think'st thou to combat with a dish-clout, slave !
That thus thou bring'st it here ?
San. Ah, Sir ! I knew
The valor of the gen'ral and his troops ;
And seeing this atfair must end in blood,
I brought a clout, to wipe the wounds withal. ^
Thra. Where are the rest?
San. Rest ! Plague, whom d'ye mean ?
There's nobody, but Sannio, left at home.
Thra. Lead you the van (to Gnatho) ; and I'll bring up
the rear:
Thence give the word to all.
Gnat. What wisdom is !
Now he has drawn up these in rank and file,
His post behind secures him a retreat,
TiiRA. Just so his line of battle Pyrrhus form'd.
(Chremes and Thais appear above at a ivindoiv.')
Chrem. D'ye see, my Thais, what he is about?
To bar and bolt tlie doors was good advice.
438 THE EUNUCH. [Act IV., Sc. VHI.
TiiAis. Tut, man! yon fool, that seems so mighty brave,
Is a mere coward. Do not be afraid !
Thra. What were best? (7o Gnatho.)
Gnat. Troth, I wish you had a sling: *
That you from far in ambush might attack them!
They'd soon fly then, I warrant you.
TiiRA. But see !
Thais appears.
Gnat. Let's charge them then ! Come on !
TiiRA. Halt ! — 'Tis the part of a wise general
To try all methods, ere he come to arms.
How do you know, but Thais may obey
My orders Avithout force ?
Gnat. Oh, gracious Heavens !
Of what advantage is it to be wise I
I ne'er approach but I go wiser from you.
Thra. Thais, first answer this ! Did you, or no.
When I presented you the Virgin, promise,
To give yourself some days to me alone ?
TiiAis.' What then?
Thra. Is that a question, when you durst
To bring a rival to my face ?
Thais. And what
Business have you with him ?
Thra. And then stole off
In company with him ?
Thais. It was my i)leasure,
Thra. Therefore, restore my Pamphila ; unless
You choose to see her carried oft' by force.
Chrem. She restore Pamphila to you ? Or you
Attempt to touch her, rascal ?
Gnat. Ah, beware !
Peace, peace, young gentleman !
Thra. {to Chreju.) What is't you mean ?
Shall I not touch my own ?
Chrem. Your own, you scoundrel?
Gnat. Take heed! you know not whom you rail at thus.
* Chrem. Won't you be gone ? — here, hark ye, Sir ! d'ye
know
How matters stand with you? — if you attempt
To raise a riot in this place to-day,
I'll answer for it, that you shall remember
This place, to-day, and me, your whole life-long.
Gnat. I pity you : to make so great a man
Your enemy !
Chrem. Hence ! or I'll break your head.
Gnat. How's that, you hang-dog ? Are you for that sport ?
Thra. Who are you, fellow ? — what d'ye mean ? — and what
Have you to do with Pamphila?
Chrem. I'll tell you,
First, I declare, that she's a free-born \voman !
Act v., So. I.] THE EUNUCH. 439
Thra. How ?
Chrem. And a citizen of Athens.
Thra. Hui!
CHRE3I. My sister.
TiiRA. Impudence !
Chrem. So, Captain, now
I give you warning, offer her no force !
— Thais, I'll now to Sophrona, the Nurse,
And bring her here with me to see the proofs.
Thra. And you prohibit me to touch my own ?
Chrem. Yes, I proliibit you.
Gnat. D'ye hear ? he owns
The robbery himself. Isn't that sufficient?
Thra. And, Thais, you maintain the same?
Thais. Ask those
Who care to answer. (Shuts down the ivindow.)
Manent Thraso and Gnatho, etc.
Thra. What shall we do now ?
Gnat. Why — e'en go back again! — This harlot here
Will soon be with you to request forgiveness.
Thra. D'ye think so ?
Gnat. Aye, most certainly. I know
The ways of women. — When you will, they won't ;
And when you won't, they're dying for you.
Thra. True.
Gnat. Shall I disband the army ?
Thra. When you will.
Gnat. Sanga, as well becomes a brave militia,
Take to your houses and firesides again.
San. My mind was like a sop i' th' pan, long since.
Gnat. Good fellow !
San. To the right about therej march !
(Exit, with Gnatuo and Thraso at the head of the troops.
ACT THE FIFTH.
Scene I.
Thais and Pythias.
Thais. Still, still, you, baggage, will you shuffle with me ?
— ''I know — I don't know — he's gone off — I've heard —
*'I was not present" — Be it what it may.
Can't you inform me openly? — The Virgin,
Her clothes all torn, in sullen silence weeps.
The Eunuch's fled. — What means all this? and what
Has happeu'd? — Won't you answer me?
440 THE EUNUCH. [Act Y.
Pytii. Alas!
What can I answer you ? — Ho was, they say,
No Eunuch.
Thais. What then?
Ptth. Chorea.
Thais. Chterea!
What Cha;rea?
Pyth. Phajdria's younger brother.
Thais. How!
What's that, hag?
Pyth. I've discover'd it: I'm sure on't.
Thais. Why, what had he to do with us? or why
Was he brought hither?
Pyth. That I can not tell;
Unless, as I sujipose, for love of Pamphila.
Thais. Alas! I am undone; undone, indeed,
If that, which you have told me now, be true.
Is 't that the girl bemoans thus ?
Pyth. I believe so.
Thais. How^, careless wretch ! was that the ( harge I gave you
At mv departui'e?
Pyth. What could I do? She
V/as trusted, as you bade, to him alone.
Thais. Oh, jade, you set the wolf to keep the sheep.^
— I'm quite asham'd to 've been so poorly bubbled.
Pyth. Who comes here? — Hist! peace, madam, I beseech
you!
We're safe: we have the very man.
(Seeing Ch.ekea at a distance.)
Thais. Where is he?
Pyth. Here, on the left; d'ye see him, ma'am?
Thais. I see him.
Pytii. Let him be sciz'd immediately!
Thais. And what
Can we do to him, fool?
Pyth. Do to him, say you ?
— See, what a saucy face the rogue has got!
Ha'nt he? — and then how settled an assurance^.
Scene II.
Unter Chorea.
CiiiER. At Antipho's, as if for spite, there wert
His father and his mother both at home,
So that I could by no means enter, but
They must have seen me. Meanwhile, as I stood
Before the door, came by an old acquaintance.
At sight of whom I flew, with all my speed,
Into a narrow, unfrequented alley;
And thence into another, and another,
Frighten'd and Hurried as I scampered on,
Sc. II.] THE EUNUCH. 441
Lest any one should know me. — But is that
Thais? 'Tis she herself. I'm all aground.
What shall I do?— Pshaw! what have I to care?
What can she do to me?
Thais. Let's up to him.
Oh, Dorus ! good Sir, welcome ! — And so, Sirrah,
You ran away.
Cn^R. Yes, madam!
Thais. And you think
It was a clever trick?
Ch^er. No, madam!
Thais. Can you
Believe that you shall go unpunish'd for it ?
CHiER. Forgive me this one fault! If I commit
Another, kill me!
Thais. Do you dread my cruelty?
Ch^r. No, ma'am!
Thais. What then?
Ch^r. I was afraid, lest She
Accuse me to you. {Pointing to Pythias.)
Thais. Upon what account?
Cii^R. A little matter.
Pytii. Rogue! a little matter?
Is it so little, think you, to abuse
A virgin, and a citizen !
CiiiER. I thought
She was my fellow-servant.
Pytii. Fellow-servant !
I can scarce hold from flying at his haii\
Monstrous ! he's come to make his sport of us.
Thais. Away! you rave.
Pytii. Why so ? if I had done 't,
I should have still been in the monster's debt;
Particularly, as he owns himself
Your servant.
Thais. Well — no more of this. — Oh, Chairea,
You've done a deed unworthy of yourself:
For granting I, perhaps, might well deserve
This injury, it was not honorable
^In you to do it. — As I live, I know not
What counsel to pursue about this girl ;
You've so destroy'd my measures, that I can't
Eestore her, without blushing to her friends,
Nor so deliver her, as I propos'd.
To make them thank me for my kindness, Chcerea!
CiiiER. Henceforth, I hope, eternal peace shall be
Betwixt us, Thais! Oft from things like these,
And bad beginnings, warmest friendships rise.
What if some God hath order'd this?
Thais. Indeed,
I'll so interpret it, and wish it so.
T 2
442 THE EUNUCH. [Act V.
CiiJER. I prithee do I — and be assured of this,
That nauglit I did in scorn, but all in love.
Thais. I do believe it; and, on that account,
More readily forgive you : for oh ! Chacrea,
I am not form'd of an ungentle nature,
Nor am I now to learn the pow'r of love.
Ch^r. Now, Thais, by my life, I love thee too.
Pyth. Then, by my troth, you must take care of him.
Ch^r. I durst not
Pyth. I don't mind a word you say.
Thais. Have done!
Cii^R. But now, in this one circumstance,
Let me beseech you to assist me! I
Commit myself entirely to your care :
Invoke you, as my patroness ; imploi'e you.
Pei'dition seize me, but I'll marry her!
Thais. But if your father
Ch^er. What of him? I know
He'll soon consent, provided it appears
That she's a citizen.
Thais. If you will wait
A little while, her brother will be here :
He's gone to fetch the nurse that brought her up;
And you shall Avitness the discovery.
Cii^R. I will remain then.
Thais. But, in the mean time.
Had you not rather wait within, than here
Before the door?
CiiiER. Much rather.
Pyth. What the plague
Are you about ?
Thais. What now?
Pyth. What now, indeed?
Will you let him within your doors again?
Thais. Why not?
Pyth. Remember that I prophesy.
He'll make some fresh disturbance.
Thais. Prithee, peace !
Pyth. It seems, you have not had sufficient proof
Of his assurance. ^
Ch^r. I'll do no harm, Pythias!
Pyth. I'll not believe it, Chairea, till I see it.
Ch^r. But you shall keep me, Pythias !
Pyth. No, not I.
For, by my troth, I would trust nothing with you.
Neither to keep, nor be kept by you. — Hence!
Away !
Thais. Oh brave ! the brother's here ! {Looking out.)
CHiER. Confusion!
Let's in, dear Thais! I'd not have him see me
Here in this dress.
Sc. IV.] THE EUNUCH. Ul
Thais. Why so? Arc you asliam'd?
Cir^R. I am indeed.
Pyth. Indeed! asham'd! oh dear!
Think of the girl !
Thais. Go in! I'll follow you.
Pythias, do you stay here to bring in Chremcs.
{Exeunt Thais and Cii.t^rea.
Scene III.
Pythias, Chremes, Sophrona.
Pyth. What can I think of? what can I devise?
Some trick now to be even with that rogue
Who palm'd this young spark on us.
Chrem. {leading the nurse). Nay, but stir
Your stumps a little faster, nurse !
Soph. I come.
Chrem. Aye, marry ; but you don't come on a jot.
Pyth. Well! have you shown the tokens to the nurse?
Chbem. I have.
Pyth. And pray what says she? Did she know them?
Chrem. At first sight.
Pyth. Oh brave news ! I'm glad to hear it ;
For I've a kindness for the girl. Go in ;
My mistress is impatient for your coming.
{Exeunt Chremes and Sophrcxa.
See, yondcr's my good master Parmeno,
Marching this way : How unconcern'd, forsooth.
He stalks along ! — But I've devis'd, I hope,
The means to vex him sorely. — First I'll in.
To know the truth of this discovery.
And then return to terrify this rascal. {Exit.
Scene IV.
Enter Parmeno.
Par. I'm come to see what Chrarea has been doing:
Who, if he has but manag'd matters well.
Good Heav'ns, how much, and what sincere applause
Shall Parmeno acquire ! — For not to mention.
In an intrigue so difficult as this.
Of so much probable expense at least.
Since v.ith a griping harlot he'd have bargain'd,
That I've procur'd for him the girl he lov'd.
Without cost, charge, or trouble ; t'other point,
That, that I hold my master-piece, there think
I've gain'd the prize, in showing a young spark
The dispositions and the Avays of harlots :
Which having early learn'd, he'll ever shun.
{Enter Pythias hehind.')
444 THE EUNUCH. [Act V.
When they're abroad, forsooth, there's none so clean,
Nothing so trim, so elegant, as they ;
Nor, when they sup with a gallant, so nice!
To see these very creatures' gluttony.
Filth, poverty, and meanness, when at home ;
So eager after food, that they devour
From yesterday's stale broth the coarse black bread : —
All this to know is safety to young men.
Scene V.
Pythias, Parmeno.
Pyth. (behind). 'Faith, Siirah, I'll be handsomely revenged
For all you've done and said. You shall not boast
Your tricks on iis without due punishment.
(Aloud, coming forward.)
Oh Heav'ns ! oh dreadful deed ! oh hapless youth !
Oh wicked Parmeno, that brought him here !
Par. What now?
Pyth. It mov'd me so, I could not bear
To see it : therefore I flew out o' doors.
What an example will they make of him!
P*VR. Oh Jupiter ! What tumult can this be ?
Am I undone, or no? — I'll e'en inquire.
Pythias ! {going up.) What now ? what is't you rave about ?
Who's to be made this terrible example?
Pyth. Who? most audacious monster! while you meant
To play your tricks on us, you have destroyed
The youth whom you brought hither for the Eunuch.
Par. How so? and what has happen'd? Prithee tell me!
Pyth. Tell you ? D'ye know the virgin, that was sent
To-day to Thais, is a citizen ?
Her brother too a man of the first rank ?
Par. I did not know it.
Pyth. Aye, but so it seems.
The poor young spark abus'd the girl; a thing
No sooner known, than he, the furious brother
Par. Did what?
Pyth. First bound him hand and foot
Par. How! bound him!
Pyth. And now, though Thais begged him not to do it —
Par. How! what!
Pyth. Moreover thi'eatens, he will sei-ve him
After the manner of adulterers;
A thing I ne'er saw done, and ne'er desire.
Par. How durst he offer at an act so monstrous?
Pyth. And why so monstrous?
Par. Is it not most monstrous?
Who ever saw a young man seiz'd and bound
For rapes and lewdness in a house of harlots ?
Sc. VI.] THE EUNUCH. 445
Pyth. I don't know.
Pak. Aye ; but you must all know this.
I tell you, and foretell you, that young spark
Is my old master's son.
Pyth. Indeed, is he ?
Par. And let not Thais suffer any one
To do him violence! — But why don't I
Rush in myself?
Pyth. Ah! take care, Parmeno,
What you're about ; lest you do him no good,
And hurt yourself: for they imagine you.
Whatever has been done, the cause of all.
Par. What shall I do then, wretch ? what undertake ?
— Oh ! yonder's my old master, just return'd
To town. Shall I tell him, or no ?— I' faith
I'll tell him, though I am well convinc'd it will
Bring me into a scrape ; a heavy one : And yet
It must be done to help poor Charea.
Pyth. Eight.
I'll in again ; and you, in the mean while,
Tell the old gentleman the whole affair. (Exit.
Scene VI.
E7iter Laches.
Laches. I've this convenience from my neighb'ring villa;
I'm never tir'd of country or of town.
For as disgust comes on, I change my place.
— But is not that our Parmeno ? 'Tis he
For certain. — Whom d'ye wait for, Parmeno,
Before that door?
Par. Who's that ? Oh, Sir ! you're welcome :
I'm glad to see you safe return'd to town.
Laches. Whom do you wait for?
Par. I'm undone : my tongue
Cleaves to my mouth through fear.
Laches. Ila! what's the matter?
Why do you tremble so ? Is all right ? Speak !
Par. First, Sir, I'd have you think, for so it is,
Whatever has befall'n has not befall'n
Through any fault of mine.
Laches, What is't?
Par. That's true.
Your pardon, Sir, I should have told that first.
— Phaidria, Sir, bought a certain Eunuch, as
A present to send her.
Laches. Her ! — Her ! whom ?
Par. Thais.
Laches. Bought? I'm undone! at what price?
Par. Twenty Mina\
446 THE EUNUCH. [Act V
Laches. I'm riiin'd.
Par. And then Chterea's fall'n in love
With a young music-girl.
Laches. How ! what ! in love !
Knows he already what a harlot is ?
Has he stol'n into town? More plagues on plagues.
Par. Nay, Sir ! don't look on me ! it was not done
By my advice.
Laches. Leave prating of yourself.
As for you, rascal, if I live But first
"Whatever has befallen, tell me, quick !
Par. Chcerca was cai'ried thither for the Eunuch.
Laches* He for the Eunuch !
Par. Yes : since when, within
They've seiz'd and bound him for a ravisher.
Laches. Confusion !
Par. See the impudence of harlots !
Laches. Is there aught else of evil or misfortune
You have not told me yet ?
Par. You know the whole.
Laches. Then why do I delay to rush in on them ? (Exit.
Par. There is no doubt but I shall smart for this.
But since I was oblig'd to 't, I rejoice
That I shall make these strumpets suffer too :
For our old gentleman has long desir'd
Some cause to punish them; and noAv he has it.
Scene VII.
Enter Pythias ; Parmexo at a distance.
Ptth. Well ! I was ne'er more plcas'd in all my life
Than when I saw th' old man come blund'ring in.
I had the jest alone ; for I alone
Knew what he was afraid of.
Par. Hey! Avhat now?
Pyth. I'm now come forth t' encounter Parmeno.
Where is he ?
Par. She seeks me.
Pyth. Oh, there he is.
I'll go up to him.
Par. Well, fool, what's the matter? (Pythias laughs.)
What would you? what d'ye laugh at? Hey! what still?
Pyth. Oh, I shall die : I'm horribly fatigu'd
With laughing at you. {Laughing heartilj.)
Par. Why so? pray!
Pyth. Why so ? {Laughing,')
I ne'er saw, ne'er shall see, a greater fool.
Oh, it's impossible to tell what sport
You've made within. — I swear, I always thought
That you had been a shrewd, sharp, cunning fellow.
Sc. IX.] THE EUNUCH. 447
"What ! to believe directly what I told you !
Or was you prick'd in conscience for the sin
The young man had committed through your means,
That you must after tell his father of him ?
How d'ye suppose he felt when old gray-beard
Surpris'd him in that habit ? — What ! you find
That you're undone. {Laughing heartily.')
Par. What's this, impertinence ?
Was it a lie you told me? D'ye laugh still?
Is't such a jest to make fools of us, hag ?
Pyth. Delightful ! {Laughing.)
Par, If you don't pay dearly for it!-
Pytii. Perhaps so. {Laughing.)
Par. I'll return it.
Pyth. Oh, no doubt on't. (Latigh{7ig.)
But what you threaten, Parmcno, is distant :
You'll be truss'd up to-day; who first draw in
A raw young man to sin, and then betray him.
They'll both conspire to make you an example. (T^aughing.)
Par. I'm done for.
Pytii. Take this, slave, as a reward
For the fine gift you sent us ; so, farewell ! {Exit Pythias.
Par. I've been a fool indeed ; and like a rat,
Betray'd myself to-day by my own squeaking.
ScENi: VIII.
Enter Tiiraso, Gnatiio ; Parmeno hehind.
Gnat. What now? in what hope, or with what design
Advance we hither ? Avhat adventure, Thraso ?
Tiiraso. What do I mean ? — To Thais to surrender
On her own terms ?
Gnat. Indeed?
Thraso. Indeed ! why not,
As well as Hercules to Omphale ?
Gnat. A fit example. — Would I might behold
Your head broke with her slipper. {Aside.) But her doors
Creak, and fly open.
Tiiraso. 'Sdeath ! what mischief now ?
I ne'er so much as saw this face before.
Why bursts he forth with such alacrity?
Scene IX.
Enter Ch.erea at another part of the stage.
Ch^r. Lives there, my countrymen, a happier man
• To-day than I? — Not one. — For on my head
The gods have plainly emptied all their store.
On whom they've pour'd a flood of bliss at once.
448 THE EUNUCH. [Act V.
Par. What's lie so pleas'd at ?
Ch^r. {seeing him.) Oh my Parmeno
Inventor, undertaker, perfecter
Of all my pleasures, know'st thou my good fortunes?
Know'st thou my Pamphila's a citizen?
Par. Pve heard so.
Ch^er. Know'st thou she's bctroth'd my wife? .
Par. Oh brave, by Heav'n !
Gnat. Hear you what he says? (To Tiiraso.)
CHiER. Then I rejoice, my brother Phffidria's love
Is quietly secur'd to him forever:
We're now one fiimily : and Thais has
Found favor with my father, and resign'd
Herself to us for patronage and care.
Par. She's then entirely Phicdria's !
CiiiER. Aye, entirely.
Par. Another cause of joy : the Captain routed !
CuiER. See, Parmeno, my brother (wheresoe'er
He be) know this, as soon as j)ossible !
• Par. I'll see if he's at home. {Exit.
Tiiraso. Hast any doubt,
Gnatho, but I'm entirely ruin'd ?
Gnat. None at all.
CiiiER. What shall I mention first ? whom praise the most !
Him that advis'd this action ? or myself
That durst to undertake it? — or extol
Fortune, the governess of all, who deign'd,
Events so many, of such moment too,
So happily to close within one day?
Or shall I praise my father's frank good-humor,
And gay festivity ? Oh, Jupiter,
Make but these blessings sure !
Scene X.
Enter Pm^DRiA.
Pii^D. O heavenly powers ! -
What wondrous things has Parmeno just told me !
But Where's my brother ?
Cii^R. Here he is.
Ph^d. I'm happy.
Ch.er. I dare believe you arc ; and trust me, brother,
Naught can be worthier of your love than Thais :
Our family are all much bounden to her.
Ph^<:d. So ! you'd need sing her praise to me !
Tiiraso. Confusion !
As my hope dies, my love increases, Gnatho
Your help ! my expectation's all in you. •
Gnat. What would you have me do ?
Thraso. Accomplish this ;
Sc. X.] THE EUNUCH. 449
By pray'r, by purchase, that I still may have
Some little share in Thais.
Gnat. A hard task !
Thraso. Do but incline to do't, you can, I knov
Effect it, and demand whatever gift,
Whate'er reward you please, it shall be yours.
Gnat. Indeed?
Thraso. Indeed!
Gnat. If I accomplish this,
I claim, that you agree to throw your doors,
Present or absent, always open to me ;
A welcome, uninvited guest forever.
Thraso. I pawn my honor as the pledge.
Gnat. I'll try.
Ph^d. What voice is that? Oh, Thraso!
Thraso. Gentlemen,
Good-day !
Ph^ed. Perhaps you're not acquainted yet
With what has happen'd here ?
Thraso. I am.
PHiED. Why then
Do I behold you in these territories?
Thraso. Depending on
Ph^d. Depend on naught but this!
Captain, I give you warning, if, henceforth,
I ever find you in this street, although
You tell me, "/ was looking/ for another,
J ivas hut passing through,''^ expect no quarter.
Gnat. Oh fie! that is not handsome.
PHiED. I have said it.
Gnat. You can not be so rude.
Ph^d. It shall be so.
Gnat. First grant me a short hearing: if you like
What I pi'opose, agree to't.
PniED. Let us hear !
Gnat. Do you retire a moment, Thraso ! (Thraso retires.)
First,
I must beseech you both, most firmly think,
That I, whate'er I do in this affair,
For my own sake I do it : but if that
Likewise advantage you, not to agree
In you Avere folly.
Ph^d. What is't you propose ?
Gnat. I think you should admit the Captain, as
Your rival.
PHJiD. How ? admit him ?
Gnat. Nay consider!
Phfedria, you live at a high rate with her.
Revel, and feast, and stick at no expense.
Yet what you give's but little, and you know
'Tis needful Thais should receive much more.
450 THE EUNUCH. [Act V., Sc. X.
Now to supply your love without your cost,
A fitter person, one more form'd, can't be
Than Thraso is : first, he has wherewithal
To give, and gives most largely : a fool too,
A dolt, a block, that snores out night and day ;
Nor can you fear slie'll e'er grow fond of him ;
And you may drive him hence whene'er you please.
PiiiED. What shall we do? {To Cii/Erea.)
Gnat. Moreover this ; the which
I hold no trifle, no man entertains
More nobly or more freely.
Phjed. I begin
To think we've need of such a fool,
Cii^K. And I.
Gnat. Well judg'd ! and let me beg one favor more ;
Admit me of your family ! — I have
Koll'd this stone long enough.
Pii^D. We do admit you.
Ch^r. With all our hearts.
Gnat. And you. Sirs, in return,
Shall pledge me in the Captain ; eat him ; drink him :
And laugh at him.
Cii^R. A bargain!
PiizED. 'Tis his due.
Gnat. Thraso, whene'er you please, approach !
Thraso. Pray now.
How stands the case ?
GxAT. Alas ! they knew you not !
But when I drew your character, and prais'd
Your worth, according to your deeds arfd virtues,
I gain'd my point.
Thraso. 'Tis well : I'm much oblig'd ;
I ne'er was any where, in all my life,
But all folks lov'd me dearly.
Gnat. Did not I
Cay he had all the Attic elegance ?
Phjed. He is the very character you drew.
Gnat. Retire then. — Ye, {to the audience^) farewell, and clap
your hands !
THE SELF. TORMENTOR.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Prologue.
Menedemus.
CHREMES.
Clinia.
Clitipiio.
Strus.
Dromo.
Scene, a Village near Atiien
sostrata.
Antipiiila.
Bacciiis.
Nurse.
Phrygia, and other servants
of Bacciiis.
PROLOGUE.
Lest any of }*ti Avonder, why the Bard
To an old actor hatli assign'd the part
Sustain'd of okl by young performers; that
ril first exphiin : then say what brings
To-day, a whole play, vvholly from the Greek,
We mean to represent : — The Self-Tormentor :
Wrought from a single to a double plot.
Now therefore that our comedy is new,
And what it is, I've shown : who wrote it too,
And whose in Greek it is, were I not sure
Most of you knew already, would I tell.
But, wherefore I have ta'en this part upon me,
In brief I will deliver: for the Bard
Has sent me here as pleader, not as Prologue;
You he declares his judges, me his counsel:
And yet as counsel nothing can I speak
More than the Author teaches me to say,
Who wrote th' oration which I now recite.
As to reports, which envious men have spread,
That he has ransack'd many Grecian plays,
While he composes some few Latin ones,
That he denies not, he has done ; nor does
Repent he did it ; means to do it still ;
Safe in the warrant and authority
Of greater bards, who did long since the same.
Then for the charge, that his arch-ei\emy
Maliciously reproaches him withal,
452 PEOLOGUE. [Act I.
That he but lately hath applied himself
To music, with the genius of his friends,
Rather than natural talents, fraught; how true,
Your judgment, your opinion, must decide.
I would entreat you, therefore, not to lean
To tales of slander, rather than of candor.
Be favorable ; nurse with growing hopes
The bards, who give you pleasing novelties ;
Pleasing I say, not such as His I mean,
Who lately introduc'd a breathless slave,
Making the crowd give way — But wherefore trace
A dunce's faults? Avhich shall be shown at large,
When more he writes, unless he cease to rail.
Attend impartially I :uid let me once
Without annoyance act an easy part;
Lest your old servant be o'er-labor'd still
With toilsome characters, the running slave,
The eating parasite, enrag'd old man.
The bold-fac'd sharper, covetous procurer ;
Parts, that ask pow'rs of voice, and iron sides.
Deign then, for my sake, to accept this plea,
And grant me some remission from my labor.
For they, who now produce new comedies.
Spare not my age ! If there is au^t laborious,
They run to me ; but if of little weight.
Away to others. In our piece to-day
The style is pure : now try my talents then
In either character. If I for gain.
Never o'er-rated my abilities ;
If I have held it still my chief reward
To be subservient to your pleasure ; fix
In me a fair example, that our youth
May seek to please you, rather than themselves.
ACT THE FIRST.
Scene I.
ClIKEMES, MeNEDEMUS.
Chrem. Though our acquaintance is as yet but young,
Since you have bought this farm that neighbors mine,
And little other commerce is betwixt us ;
Yet or your virtue, or good neighborhood,
(Which is in my opinion kin to friendship,)
Urge me to tell you, fairly, openly.
That you appear to me to labor more
Than your age warrants, or affairs require.
Sc. I.] THE SELF-TOKMENTOR. 453
Now, in the name of lieav'n and earth, what is't
You want ? v/hat seek you ? Threescore years of age,
Or older, as I guess; with an estate,
Better than which, more profitable, none
In these parts hold ; master of many slaves ; *
As if you had not one at your command,
You labor in their offices yourself.
I ne'er go out so soon at morn, return
So late at eve, but in your grounds I see you
Dig, plow, or fetch and carry : in a word,
You ne'er remit your toil, nor spare yourself.
This, I am certain, is not done for pleasure.
— You'll say, perhaps, it vexes you to see
Your work go on so slowly ; — do but give
The time you spend in laboring yourself
To set your slaves to work, 'twill profit more.
Mene. Have you such leisure from your own affairs
To think of those, that don't concern you, Chremes ?
Chrem. I am a man, and feel for all mankind.
Think, I advise, or ask for information :
If right, that I may do the same ; if wrong,
To turn you from it.
Mene. I have need to do thus.
Do you as you think fit.
Chkem. Need any man
Torment himself?
Mene. I need.
Chrem. If- there's a cause,
I'd not oppose it. But what evil's this ?
"What is th' offense so grievous to your nature,
That asks such cruel vengeance on yourself?
Mene. Alas ! alas ! {In tears.')
Chrem. Nay, weep not ; but inform me.
Be not reserv'cl ; fear nothing : prithee, trust me :
By consolation, counsel, or assistance,
possibly may serve you.
Mene. Would you know it ?
Chrem. Aye, for the very reason I have mention'd.
Mene. I will inform you.
Chrem. But meanwhile lay doAvn
Those rakes : don't tire yourself.
Mene. It must not be.
Chrem. What mean you?
Mene. Give me leave: that I may take
No respite from my toil.
Chrem. I'll not allow it. {Talcing aicay the rakes.)
Mene. Ah, you do wrong.
Chrem. What, and so heavy too!
(Weighing them in his hand.)
Mene. Such my desert.
Chrem. Now speak. {Laying down the rakes.)
454 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. [Act I.
Mene. One only son
I have. — Have, did I say? — Had I mean, Chremes.
Have I or no, is now uncertain.
Chrem. Wherefore ?
Mene.* That you shall know. An old Corinthian woman
Now sojourns here, a stranger in these parts,
And very poor. It happen'd, of her daughter
My son became distractedly enamor'd;
E'en to the brink of marriage ; and all this
Unknown to me : which I no sooner learn'd
Than I began to deal severely with him,
Not as a young and love-sick mind requir'd,
But in the rough and usual way of fathers.
Daily I chid him; crying, "How now, Sir!
Think you that you shall hold these courses long,
And I your father living ? — Keep a mistress,
As if she were your wife ! — You are deceiv'd,
If you think that, and do not know me, Clinia.
While you act worthily, you're mine ; if not,
I shall act toward you worthy of myself.
All this arises from mere idleness.
I, at your age, ne'er thought of love ; but went
To seek my fortune in the wars in Asia,
And there acquir'd in arms both wealth and glory."
— In short, tbangs came to such a pass, the youth,
O'ercome with hearing still the self-same thing,
And wearied out with my reproaches ; thinking,
Age and experience had enabled me
To judge his interest better than himself,
Went off to serve the king in Asia, Chremes.
Chrem. How say you?
Mene. Stole away three months ago,
Without my knowledge.
Chrem. Botli have been to blame:
And yet this enterprise bespeaks a mind,
Modest and manly.
Mene. Having heard of this
From some of his familiars, home I came
Mournful, half-mad, and almost wild with grief.
I sit me down ; my servants run to me ;
Some draw my sandals off; while others haste
To spread the couches, and prepare the supper:
Each in his way, I mark, does all he can
To mitigate my sorrow. Noting this,
" How, said I to myself, so many then
Anxious for me alone ? to pleasure me ?
So many slaves to dress me? All this cost
For me alone ? — Meanwhile, my only son,
For whom all these were fit, as well as me,
Nay rather more, since he is of an age
More proper for their use ; him, him, poor boy,
Sc. II.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 455
Has my tinkindness driven forth to sorrow.
Oh I were worthy of the heaviest curse,
Could I brook that! — No; long as he shall lead
A life of penury abroad, an exile
Through my unjust severity, so long
Will I revenge his wrongs upon myself,
Laboring, scraping, sparing, slaving for him."
— In short, I did so ; in the' house I left
Nor clothes, nor movables : I scrap'd up all.
My slaves, both male and female, except those
Who more than earn'd their bread in country-work,
I sold: Then set my house to sale: In all
I got together about fifteen talents ;
Purchas'd this farm ; and here fatigue myself ;
Thinking I do my son less injury,
While I'm in misery too ; nor is it just
Eor me, I think, to taste of pleasure here,
Till he return in safety to partake on't.
Chrem. You I believe a tender parent, him
A duteous son, if govcrn'd prudently.
But you was unacquainted with his nature.
And he with yours : sad life, where things are so !
You ne'er betray'd jouv tenderness to him;
Nor durst he place that confidence in you,
Which well becomes the bosom of a father.
Had that been done, this had not happen'd to you.
Mene. True, I confess ; but I was most in fault.
Chrem. All, Menedcmus, will, I hope, be well,
And trust, your son will soon return in safety.
Mene. Grant it, good Gods !
Chrem. They will. Now, therefore, since
The Dionysia are held, here to-day.
If 'tis convenient, come, and feast with me.
Mene. Impossible.
Chrem. Why so ? Nay, prithee now,
Indulge yourself a while : your absent son,
I'm sure, would have it so.
Mene. It is not meet.
That I, who drove him forth to misery,
Should fly it now myself.
Chrem. You are resolv'd?
Mene. Most constantly.
Chrem. Farewell then!
Mene. Fare you well ! (Jixit.
Scene IL
Chremes alone.
He draws tears from me. — How I pity him !
— But 'tis high time, as the d;iy j;oes, (o warn
456 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. [Act I.
My neighbor Phania to come forth to supper.
I'll go, and see if he's at home.
{Goes to Piiania's door, and returns.)
There was,
It seems, no need of warning : for, they tell me,
He has been gone to my house some time since ;
I keep my guests in waiting; so I'll in.
But my doors creak. (Clitipho appeals.)
Who's this? I'll step aside. (Retires.)
Scene III.
Enter Clitipho, speaking to Clinia within.
As yet, my Clinia, you've no cause to fear:
They are not long: and she, I'm confident,
Will be here shortly with the messenger.
Prithee, away tlien with these idle cares.
Which thus torment you!
Chrem. (behind.) Whom does my son speak to?
Clit. My father as I wish'd — Good Sir, well met.
Chre3i. What now?
Clit. D'ye know our neighbor Menedemus ?
Chrem. Aye, very well.
Clit. D'ye know he has a son ?
Chrem. I've heard he is in Asia.
Clit. No such thing.
He's at our house, Sir.
Chrem. How!
Clit. But just arriv'd :
Ev'n at his landing I fell in with him,
And brought him here to supper: for, from boys,
We have been friends and intimates.
Chrem. Good news :
Now do I wish the more that Menedemus,
Whom I invited, were my guest to-day,
That I, and under my own roof, had been
The first to have surpris'd him with this joy !
And I may yet. {Going.)
Clit. Take heed ! it were not good.
Chrem. How so?
Clit. Because the youth is yet in doubt:
Newly arriv'd ; in fear of ev'ry thing ;
He dreads his father's anger, and suspects
The disposition of his mistress tow'i'ds him ;
Her, whom he dotes upon ; on Avhose account,
This difFrence and departure came about.
Chrem. I know it.
Cut. He has just dispatch'd his boy
Into the city to her, and our Syrus
I sent along with him.
Sc. IV.] THE SELF-lt)RMENTOR. 457
Chrem. What says the son ?
Clit. Says ? that he's miserable.
Chrem. Miserable!
Who needs be less so? for what earthly good
Can man possess which he may not enjoy ?
Parents, a -prosp'rous country, friends, birth, riches.
Yet these all take their value from the mind
Of the possessor : he that knows their use,
To him they're blessings ; he that knows it not,
To him misuse converts them into curses.
Clit. Nay, but he ever was a cross old man:
And now there's nothing that I dread so much,
As lest he be transported in his rage
To some gross outrages against his son.
Chrem. He! — He! — But I'll contain myself. 'Tis good
For Menedemus that his son should fear. (Aside.)
Clit. What say you. Sir, within yourself! (Overhearing.')
Chrem. I say,
Be't as it might, the son should have remain'd.
Grant that the father bore too strict a hand
Upon his loose desires; he should have borne it.
Whom would he bear withal, if not a pai-ent ?
Was't fitting that the father should conform
To the son's humor, or the son to his?
And for the rigor that he murmurs at,
'Tis nothing : the severities of fathers.
Unless perchance a hard one here and there.
Are much the same : they reprimand their sons
For riotous excesses, wenching, drinking;
And starve their pleasures by a scant allowance.
Yet this all tends to good: but when the mind
Is once enslav'd to vicious appetites.
It needs must follow vicious measures too.
Eemember then this maxim, Clitipho,
A wise one 'tis to draw from others' faults
A profitable lesson for yourself.
Clit. I do believe it.
Chrem. Well, I'll in, and see
What is provided for our supper: you,
As the day wears, see that you're not far hence. (Exit*
Scene IV.
Clitipho ahne.
What partial judges of all sons are fathers I
Who ask gray wisdom from our greener years.
And think our minds should bear no touch of youth ;
Governing by their passions, now kill'd in them,
And not by those that formerly rebclPd.
If ever I've a son, I promise him
u
458 THE SELF-TOKMENTOR. [Act II.
He shall find me an easy father; fit
To know, and apt to pardon his offenses!
Not such as mine, who, speaking of another,
Shows how he'd act in such a case himself:
Yet when he takes a cup or two too much,
Oh, what mad pranks he tells me of his own :
But warns me now "to draw from others' faults
A profitable lesson for myself."
Cunning old gentleman ! he little knows.
He pours his proverbs in a deaf man's ear.
The words of Bacchis, Give me, Bi'ing me, now
Have greater weight with me: to Avhose commands,
Alas ! I've nothing to reply withal ;
Nor is there man more wretched than myself.
For Clinia here (though he, I must confess,
Has cares enough) has got a mistress, modest,
Well-bred, and sti-anger to all harlot arts:
Mine is a self-will'd, wanton, haughty madam,
Gay, and extravagant ; and let her ask
Whate'er she will, she must not be denied ;
Since poverty I durst not make my plea.
This is a plague I have but newly found,
Nor is my father yet appris'd of it.
ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.
Enter Clinia.
Clin. Had my affairs in love been prosperous, ■
They had, I know, been here long since : but, ah,
I fear she's fall'n from virtue in my absence:
So many things concur to prove it so.
My mind misgives me ; opportunity,
The place, her age, an infamous old mother.
Under whose governance she lives, to whom
Naught but gain's precious.
To liim CLiTinio.
Clit. Clinia !
Clin. Woe is me! {To himself.)
Cut. Take heed, lest some one issue from your father's,
And chance to see you here.
Clin. I will : but yet
My mind- forebodes I know not what of ill.
Clit. What, still foreboding, ere you know the truth ?
Clin. Had there been no untoward circumstance,
They had return'd already
Sc. II.] THE SELF-TOKMENTOR. 459
Clit. Patience, Clinia!
They'll be here presently.
Clin. Presently! but wlien?
Clit. Consider, 'tis a long way off: and then
You know the ways of women ; to set off.
And trick their persons out, requires an age.
Clix. Oh Clitipho, I fear
Clit. Take courage; see,
Dromo and gyrus!
ScENK n.
Enter Syrus aucl Dkomo, conversing at a distance.
Syrus. Say you ?
Dromo. Even so.
Syrus. But while we chat, the girls are loft behind.
Clit. (listening.) Girls, Clinia! do you hear?
Clin. I hear, I see.
And now, at last, I'm ha])py, Clitipho.
Dromo {to Syrus). Left behind! troth, no wonder: so
encumber'd ;
A troop of waiting-women at her heels !
Clin, (listening). Confusion ! Whence should she have wait-
ing-women ?
Clit. How can I tell ?
Syrus (to Dromo). We ought not to have droi)p'd them.
Tliey bring a world of baggage!
Clin, (listening). Death !
Syrus. Gold, clothes !
It grows late too, and they may miss their way.
We've been to blame: Dromo, run back, and meet them.
Away! quick! don't loiter. (Exit Dromo.
Clin. What a wretch!
All my fair hopes quite blasted!
Clit. What's the matter?
What is it troubles you?
Clin. What troubles me ?
D'ye hear ? She waiting-women, gold, and clothes !
She, whom I left with one poor servant-girl!
Whence come they, think you ?
Clit. Oh, I take you now.
Syrus (to himself). Gods, what a crowd! our house will
hardly hold them.
What eating, and what drinking will there be!
How miserable our old gentleman!
But here are those I wish'd to sec ! {Seeing Clit. and Clin.)
Clin. Oh Jove!
Where then are truth, and faith, and honor fled?
While I a fugitive, for love of you,
Quit my dear country, you, Antiphila,
460 THE SELF-TORMENTOE. [Act II.
For sordid gain desert me in distress!
You, for whose sake I courted infamy,
And cast oflF my obedience to my father.
He, I remember now with grief and shame,
Oft warn'd me of these women's ways ; oft tried
In vain by sage advice to wean me from her.
But now I bid farewell to her forever ;
Though, when 'twere good and wholesome, I was froward.
No wretch more curs'd than I!
Strus. He has misconstrued
All our discourse, I find You fancy, Clinia,
Your mistress other than she is. Her life.
As far as we from circumstance could learn,
Her disposition tow'rd you, are the same.
Clin. How! tell me all: for there is naught on earth
I'd rather know than that my fears are false.
Strus. First then, that you may be appris'd of all,
Th' old woman, thought her mother, was not so :
That beldam also is deceas'd ; for this
I overheard her, as we came along,
Telling the other.
•Clit. Other! who? what other?
Syrus. Let me but finish what I have begun.
And I shall come to that.
Clit. Dispatch then.
Syrus. First,
Having arriv'd, Dromo knocks at the door :
Which an old woman had no sooner open'd,
But in goes Dromo, and I after him.
Th' old woman bolts the door, and spins again,
And now, or never, Clinia, might be known,
Coming thus unexpectedly npon her,
Antiphila's employments in your absence :
For such, as then we saw, we might presume
Her daily practice, which of all things else.
Betrays the mind and disposition most.
Busily plying of the web we found her.
Decently clad in mourning, — I suppose.
For the deceas'd old woman. She had on
No gold or trinkets, but was plain and neat.
And dress'd like those who dress but for themselves.
No female varnish to set off her beauty :
Her hair dishevel'd, long, and flowing loose
About her shoulders. Peace! {To Clinia.)
Clin. Nay, prithee, Syrus,
Do not transport me thus without a cause.
Syrus. Th' old woman spun the woof; one servant-giri,
A tatter'd dirty dowdy, weaving by her.
Clit. Clinia, if this be true, as sure it is,
"Who is more fortunate than you ? D'ye mark
The ragged dirty girl that he describ'd ?
Sc. II.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 461
A sign the mistress leads a blameless life,
When she maintains no flaunting go-between :
For 'tis a rule with those gallants, who wish
To win the mistress, first to bribe the maid.
Clin. Go on, I beg you, Syrus ; and take heed
You fill me not with idle joy. — What said she
Wli-3n you nam'd me?
Syrus. As soon as we inform'd her
You was return'd, and begg'd her to come to you,
She left her work immediately, and burst
Into a flood of tears, which one might see
Were shed for love of you.
Clix. By all the Gods,
I know not where I am for A'ery joy.
Oh, how I trembled !
Clit. Without cause, I knew.
But come ; now, Syrus, tell us, who's that other ?
Syrus. Your mistress, Bacchis.
Clit. How! what! Bacchis? Tell me,
Where d'ye bring her, rogue ?
Syrus. Where do I bring her?
To our house certainly.
Clit. My father's ?
Syrus. Aye.
Clit. Oh monstrous impudence !
Syrus. Consider, Sir ;
More danger, the more honor.
Clit. Look ye. Sirrah,
You mean to purchase praise at my expense.
Where the least slip of yours would ruin me.
What is't you drive at ?
Syrus. But
Clit. But what?
Syrus. I'll tell you,
Give me but leave !
Clin. Permit him.
Clit. AVell, I do.
Syrus. This' business — now — is just as if — {Drawling^
Clit. Confusion !
What a long roundabout beginning!
Clin. True.
To the point, Syrus !
Syrus. I've no patience with you.
You use me ill, Sir, and I can't endure it.
Clin. Hear him: peace, Clitipho! ( Jb Clitipho.)
Syrus. You'd be in love ;
Possess your mistress ; and have wherewithal
To make her presents : but to gain all this
You'd risk no danger. By my troth, you're wise,
If it be Avise to wish for what can't be.
Take good and bad together; both, or none;
462 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. Act II.
Choose which you will ; no mistress, or no danger.
And yet the scheme I've laid is fair and safe ;
Your mistress may be with you at your father's
"Without detection ; by the self-same means
I shall procure the sum you've promis'd her,
Which you have rung so often in my ears,
You've almost deafen'd them. — What would you more ?
Clit. If it may be so
Syrus. If! the proof shall show.
Clit. Well, well then, what's this scheme?
Syrus. We will pretend
That Bacchis is his mistress.
Clit. Mighty fine !
What shall become then of his own ? Shall she
Pass for his too, because one's not enough
To answer for?
Syrus. No. She shall to your ijiother.
Clit. How so?
Syrus. 'Twere tedious, Clitipho, to tell :
Let it suffice, I've reason for it.
Clit. Nonsense !
I see no ground to make me hazard this.
Syrus. Well ; if you dread this, I've another way,
Which you shall both own has no danger in't.
Clit. Aye, prithee, find that out.
Syrus. With all my heart.
I'll run and meet the woman on the road.
And order them to go straight home again.
Clit. How ! what !
Syrus. I mean to ease you of your fear.
That you may sleep in peace on either side. (Going.)
Clit. What shall I do ?
Clix. E'en profit of his scheme.
Clit. But, Syrus, tell me then
Syrus. Away, away!
This day too late you'll Avish for her in vain. (Goinf/.)
Clin. This is your time : enjoy it, while you may :
Who knows if you may haA'C the like -again ?
Clit. Syrus, I say.
Syrus. Call as you please, I'll on.
Clit. Clinia, you're right, — Ho, Syrus I Syrus, lio !
Syrus, I say.
Syrus. So, he grows hot at last. (To himself.)
What would you. Sir? {Turning about.)
Clit. Come back, come back !
Syrus. I'm here. (Returns.)
You're pleasure. Sir ! — What, will not this content you ?
Clit. Yes, Syrus ; me, my passion, and my fame
I render up to you : dis])ose of all ;
But see you're not to blame.
Syrus. Ridiculous !
Sc. II.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 463
Spare your advice, good Clitipho! you know
Success is my concern still more than yours :
For if perchance we fail in our attempt,
You shall have words ; but I, alas ! dry blows.
Be sure then of my diligence; and beg
Your friend to join, and countenance our scheme.
Clin. Depend on me : I see it must be so.
Clit. Thanks, my best Clinia!
Clin. But take heed she trip not.
Syrus. Oh, she's well instructed.
Clit. Still I wonder
How you prevail'd so easily upon her :
Her, who's so scornful.
Syrus. I came just in time,
Time, that in most affairs is all in all :
For there I found a certain wretched captain,
Begging her favors. She, an artful baggage,
Denied him, to inflame his mind the more,
And make her court to you. — But hark ye. Sir,
Be cautious of your conduct ! no imprudence !
You know how shi'ewd and keen your father is ;
And I know your intemperance too well.
No double-meanings, glances, leers, sighs, hems,
Coughing, or titt'ring, I beseech you. Sir!
Clit. I'll play my part
Syrus. Look to't !
Clit. To your content.
Syrus. But see, the women! they're soon after us.
{Looking out.)
Clit. Where are they?— (Syrus stops him.) Why d've hold
me?
Syrus. She is not
Your mistress now.
Clit. True : not before my father.
But now, meanwhile
Syrus. Nor now, meanwhile,
Clit. Allow me!
Syrus. No.
Clit. But a moment!
Syrus. No.
Clit. A single kiss !
Syrus. Away, if you are wise!
Clit. Well, well, I'm gone.
--What's he to do?
Syrus. Stay here.
Clit. 0 happy
Syrus. March ! {Pushes off Clitipho.)
464 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. [Act II., Sc. III.
Scene III
Enter Bacchis, and Antiphila at a distance.
Bacch. Well, I commend you, my Antiphila :
Happy, that you have made it still j^our care,
That virtue should seem fair as beauty in you !
Nor Gracious Heav'n so help me, do I wonder
If ev'ry man should wish you for his own ;
For your discourse bespeaks a worthy mind.
And when I ponder with myself, and weigh
Your course of life, and all the rest of those
Who live not on the common, 'tis not strange,
Your morals should be different from ours.
Virtue's your int'rest; those, with whom we deal,
Forbid it to be ours : For our gallants,
Chai-m'd by our beauty, court us but for that;
Which fading, they transfer their love to others.
If then meanwhile we look not to ourselves.
We live forlorn, deserted, and distress'd.
You, when you've once agreed to pass your lii'j
Bound to one man, whose temper suits with yours,
He too attaches his whole heart to you :
Thus mutual friendship draws you each to each;
Nothing can part you, nothing shake your love.
Anti. I know not others' ; for myself I know.
From his content I ever drew my own.
Clin, {overhearing). Excellent maid ! my best Antiphila !
Tliou too, thy love alone is now the cause
That brings me to my native land again.
For when away, all evils else were light
Compar'd to wanting thee.
Syrus. I do believe it. V
Clin. 0 Syrus, 'tis too much : I can not bear it.
Wretch that I am ! — and must I be debarr'd
To give a loose to love, a love like this ?
Syrus. And yet if I may judge your father's mind.
He has more troubles yet in store for you.
Bacch. Who is that youth that eyes us ? (^Seeing Clinia.}
Anti. Ha ! (seeing him.) — Support me !
Bacch. Bless me, what now?
Anti. I faint.
Bacch. Alas, poor soul!
What is't surprises you, Antiphila?
• Anti. Is't Clinia that I see, or no?
Bacch. Whom do you see?
Clin. Welcome my soul ! (Running up to her.)
Anti. My wish'd-for Chnia, welcome!
Clin. How fares my love ?
Anti. O'erjoyed at your return.
Act III., Sc. II.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 465
Clin. And do I hold thee, my Antiphila,
Thou only wish and comfort of my soul !
Sykus. In, in, for you have made our good man wait.
{Exeunt.
ACT THE THIRD.
Scene I.
Cheem. 'Tis now just daybreak. — ^Why delay I then
To call my neighbor forth, and be the first
To tell him of his son's return ? — The youth,
I understand, would fain not have it so.
But shall I, when I see this poor old man
Afflict himself so grievously, by silence
Rob him of such an unexpected joy.
When the discov'ry can not hurt the son?
No, I'll not do't ; but far as in my pow'r
Assist the father. As my son, I see.
Ministers to th' occasions of his friend,
Associated in counsels, rank, and age.
So we old men should serve each other too.
Scene IL
Enter Menedemus.
Mene. (to Idmself). Sure I'm by nature form'd for misery
Beyond the rest of humankind, or else
'Tis a false saying, though a common one,
"That time assuages grief." For ev'ry day
My sorrow for the absence of my son
Grows on my mind : the longer he's away,
The more impatiently I wish to see him,
The more pine after him.
Chrem. But he's come forth. (Seeing Menedemus.)
Yonder he stands. I'll go and speak with him.
Good-morrow, neighbor ! I have news for you ;
Such news as you'll be overjoy'd to hear.
Mene. Of my son, Chremes ?
Chrem. He's alive and well.
Mene. Where?
Chrem. At my house.
Mene. My son?
Chrem. Your son.
Mene. Come home?
Chrem. Come home.
Mene. My dear boy come ? my Clinia ?
Chrem. He.
U2
466 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. [Act III.
Mene. Away then ! prithee, bring me to him.
Chrem. Hold!
He cares not you should know of his return,
And dreads your sight because of his late trespass.
He fears, besides, your old severity
Is now augmented.
Mene. Did not you inform him
The bent of my affections?
Chrem. Not I.
Mene. Wherefore, Chremes?
Chrem. Because 'twould injui'e both yourself and him
To seem of such a poor and broken spirit.
Mene. I can not help it. Too long, much too long,
I've been a cruel father.
Chrem. Ah, my friend,
You run into extremes ; too niggardly,
Or, too profuse ; imprudent either way.
First, rather than permit him entertain
A mistress, who was then content with little.
And glad of any thing, you drove him hence :
Whereon the girl was forc'd against her will,
To grow a common gamester for her bread :
And now she can't be kept without much cost,
You'd squander thousands. For to let you know
How admirably madam's train'd to mischief.
How finely form'd to ruin her admirers,
She came to my house yesternight with more
Than half a score of women at her tail.
Laden with clothes and jewels. — If she had
A Prince to her gallant, he could not bear
Such wild extravagance : much less can you.
Mene. Is she within too?
Chrem. She within! Aye, truly.
I've found if to my cost : ibr I have given
To her and her companions but one supper ;
And to give such another would undo me.
For, not to dwell on other circumstances,
Merely to taste, and smack, and spirt about,
What quantities of wine has she consum'd !
This is too rough, she cries ; some softer, pray !
I have pierc'd every vessel, ev'ry cask;
Kept ev'ry servant running to and fro :
All this ado, and all in one short night !
What, Menedemus, must become of you,
Whom they will prey upon continually ?
Now, afore Heaven, thinking upon this,
I pitied you.
Mene, Why let him have his will ;
Waste, consume, squander ; I'll endure it all,
So I but have him with me.
Chrem. If resolv'd
Sc. II.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 467
To take that courso, I hold it of great moment
That he perceive not you allow of this.
Mene. What shall I do then ?
Chrem. Any thing much rather
Than what you mean to do : at second-hand
Supply him • or permit his slave to trick you ;
Though I perceive they're on that scent already,
And privately contriving how to do't.
There's Syrus, and that little slave of yours
In an eternal whisper: the young men
Consulting too together : and it were
Better to lose a talent by these means,
Than on your plan a mina : for at present
Money is not the question, but the means
To gratify the youth the safest way.
For if he once perceives your turn of mind.
And that you'd rather hazard life, and wealth,
Than part from him ; ah, Menederaus, what
A Avindow to debauchery you'll open !
Nay, life itself will grow a burden to you ;
For too much liberty corrupts us all.
Whatever comes into his head, he'll have;
Nor think if his demand be right or wrong.
You, on your part, to see your wealth and son
Both wreck'd, will not be able to endure.
You'll not comply with his demands ; whereon
He falls to his old fence immediately,
And knowing where your weak part lies, will threaten
To leave you instantly.
Mene. 'Tis very like.
Chre:m. Now on my life I have not clos'd ray eyes.
Nor had a single wink of sleep this night.
For thinking how I might restore your son.
Mene. Give me your hand : and let me beg you, Chromes,
Continue to assist me !
Chrem. Willingly.
Mene. D'ye know what I would have you do at pi'esent?
Chrem. What ?
Mene. Since you have found out they meditate
Some practice on me, prithee, urge them on
To execute it quickly : for I long
To grant his wishes, long to see him straight.
Chrem. Let me alone. I must lay hold of Syrus,
And give him some encouragement. — But see !
Some one, I know not who, comes forth : In, in.
Lest they perceive that we consult together!
I have a little business too in hand.
Simus and Crito, our two neighbors here,
Have a dispute about their boundaries ;
And they've referr'd it to my arbitration,
I'll go and tell them, 'tis not in my powey
468 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. [Act III.
To wait on them, as I propos'd to-day.
I will be with you presently.
Mene. Pray do. (^Exit Chremes.
Gods ! that the nature of mankind is such,
To see and judge of the affairs of others
Much better than their own ! Is't therefore so,
Because that, in our own concerns, we feel
Too much the influence of joy or soitow ?
How much more wisely does my neighbor here
Consult for me, than I do for myself! ,
Chrem. {returning'). I've disengag'd myself! that J might be
, At leiSTire to attend on your affairs. {Exit Menedemus.
Scene III.
Enter Syrus at another part of the stage.
Strus {to himself). This way, or that way, or some way or
other !
For money must be had, and th' old man trick'd.
Chrem. {overhearing). Was I deceiv'd in thinking they were
at it?
That slave of Clinia's, it should seem, is dull.
And so our Syrus has the part assign'd him.
Syrus. Who's there (seeing Chremes). Undone if he has
overheard me. (Aside.)
Chrem. Syrus.
Syrus. Sir !
Chrem. What now ?
Syrus. Nothing. — But I wonder
To see you up so early in the morning,
Who drank so freely yesterday.
Chrem. Not much.
Syrus. Not much? You have. Sir, as the proverb goes,
The old age of an eagle.
Chrem. Ah !
Syrus. A pleasant,
Good sort of girl, this wench of Clinia's.
Chrem. Aye, so she seems.
Syrus. And handsome.
Chrem. Well enough.
Syrus. Not like the maids of old, but passable,
As girls go now : nor am I much amaz'd
That Clinia dotes upon her. But he has,
Alas, poor lad ! a miserable, close,
Dry, covetous, curmudgeon to his father:
Our neighbor here ; d'ye know him ? — Yet, as if
He did not roll in riches, his poor son
Was foi'c'd to run away for very want.
D'ye know this story?
Chrem. Do I know it? Aye.
A scoundrel ! should be horse-whipp'd.
Sc. III.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 469
SYRtJS. Who?
Chrem. That slave
Of Clinia's
Syrus. Troth, I trembled for you, Syrus ! (Aside.)
Chrem. Who suffer'd this.
Syrus. Why what should he have done ?
Chrem. What ? — have devis'd expedients, contriv'd
schemes,
To raise the cash for the young gentleman
To make his mistress presents ; and have done
A kindness to th' old hunks against his will.
Syrus. You jest.
Chrem. Not I : it was his duty, Syrus.
Syrus. How's this? why prithee then, d'ye praise those
slaves,
Who trick their masters ?
Chrem. Yes upon occasion.
Syrus. Mighty fine, truly!
Chrem. Why, it oft prevents
A great deal of uneasiness : for instance,
This Clinia, Menedemus' only son.
Would never have elop'd.
Syrus. I can not tell
Whether he says all this in jest or earnest ;
But it gives fresh encouragement to me. (Aside.)
Chrem. And now what is't the blockhead waits for, Syrus?
Is't till his master runs aAvay again.
When he perceives himself no longer able
To bear with the expenses of his mistress ?
Has he no plot upon th' old gentleman?
Syrus. He's a poor creature.
Chrem. But it is your part.
For Clinia's sake, to lend a helping hand.
Syrus. Why, that indeed I easily can do,
If you command me ; for I know which way.
Chrem. I take you at your word.
Syrus. I'll make it good.
Chrem. Do so.
Syrus. But hark ye. Sir ! remember this,
If ever it hereafter comes to pass,
— As who can answer for th' affairs of men!
That your own son
Chrem. I hope 'twill never be.
Syrus. I hope so too ; nor do I mention this
From any knowledge or suspicion of him: •»
But that in case — his time of life, you know ;
And should there be occasion, trust me, Chremes,
But I could handle you most handsomely.
Chrem. Well, well, we'll think of it, when that time comes.
ow to your present task! (£"0:17 Chremes.
470 THE SELF-TOKMENTOR. [Act III.
SCEKE IV.
Strus ahne.
I never heard
My master argue more commodiously ;
Nor ever had a mind to mischief, when
It might be done with more impunity.
But who's this coming from our house ?
Scene V.
Enter Clitipiio, and Chremes following.
Chrem. How now?
What manners are these, Clitipho? does this
Become you?
Clit. What's the matter?
Chrem. Did not I
This v^y instant see you put your hand
Into yon wench's bosom?
Syrus. So! all's over:
I am undone. {Aside.) ^
Clit. Me, Sir?
Chrem. These very eyes
Beheld you : don't deny it. — 'Tis base in you
To be so fli])paiit with your hands. For what
Affront's more gross than to receive a friend
Under your roof, and tamper with his mistress ?
And, last night in your cups too, how indecent
And rudely you behav'd !
Strus. 'Tis very true.
Chrem. So very troublesome, so help me Heav'n,
I fear'd the consequence. I know the ways
Of lovers : they oft take offense at things
You dream not of.
Clit. But my companion. Sir,
Is confident I would not wrong him.
. Chrem. Granted.
Yet you should cease to hang forever on thern.
Withdraw, and leave them sometimes to themselves.
Love has a thousand sallies ; you restrain them.
I can conjecture from myself. There's none, ,
How near soever, Clitipho, to whom
r'dare lay open all my weaknesses.
With one my pride forbids it, Avith another
The very action shames me : and believe me,
It is the same with him ; and 'tis our place
To mark on Avhat occasions to indulge him.
Syrus. What says he now? {Aside.)
Sc. VI.^ THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 471
Clit. Confusion !
Syrus. Clitipho,
These are the very precepts that I gave you :
And how discreet and temperate you've been !
Clit. Prithee, peace !
Syrus. Aye, I warrant you.
Chrem. Oh, Syrus,
I'm quite asham'd of him.
Syrus. I do not doubt it.
Nor without reason ; for it troubles me.
Clit. Still, rascal!
Syrus. Nay, I do but speak the truth.
Cut. May I not then go near them ?
Chrem. Prithee, then.
Is there one way alone of going near them ?
Syrus. Confusion ! he'll betray himself before
I get the money. (/Is/c/e.) — Chremes, will you once
Hear a fool's counsel ?
Chrem. What do you advise ?
Syrus. Order your son about his business.
Clit. Whither?
Syrus. Whither I v/herc'er you please. Give place to them.
Go take a walk.
Clit. Walk! where?
Syrus. A pi-etty question !
This, that, or any way.
Chrem. He says right. Go !
Clit. Now, plague upon you, Syrus I ( Going.')
Syrus {to Clitipho, going). Henceforth, learn
To keep those hands of yours at rest. {Exit Clitipho.
Scexe VI.
D'ye mind ?
AVhat think you, Cliremes, Avill become of him.
Unless you do your utmost to preserve,
Correct, and counsel him ?
Chrem. I'll take due care.
Syrus. But now's your time, Sir, to look after him.
Chrem. It shall be done.
Syrus. It must be, if you're wise :
Por ev'ry day he minds me less and less.
CiiREM. But, Syrus, say, what progress have you made
In that affair I just now mention'd to you ?
Have you struck out a scheme that pleases you ?
Or are you still to seek ?
Syrus. The plot, you mean.
On Menedemus. I've just hit on one.
Chrem. Good fellow ! prithee now, what is 't ?
Syrus. I'll tell you.
But as one thing brings in anotlier
472 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. [Act III.
Chrem. Well?
Syrus. This Bacchis is a sad jade.
Chrem. So it seems.
Syrus. Aye, Sir, if you knew all ; nay, even now
She's hatching mischief. Dwelling hereabouts,
There was of late an old Corinthian woman,
To whom this Bacchis lent a thousand pieces.
Chrem. What then ?
Syrus, The woman's dead ; and left behind
A daughter, very young, whom she bequeath' d,
By way of pledge, to Bacchis for the money.
Chrem. I understand.
Syrus. This girl came here with Bacchis,
And now is with your wife.
Chrem. What then?
Syrus. She begs
Of Clinia to advance the cash ; for which
She'll give the girl as an equivalent.
She wants the thousand pieces,
Chrem. Does she so ?
Syrus. No doubt on't.
Chrem. So I thought. — And what do you
Intend to do ?
Syrus. Who? I, Sir? I'll away
To Menedemus presently; and tell him
This maiden is a rich and noble captive,
Stolen from Caria ; and to ransom her
Will greatly profit him.
Chrem. 'Twill never do.
Syrus. How so ?
Chrem. I answer now for Menedemus.
/ ivill not purchase her. What say you now ?
Syrus. Give a more favorable answer!
Chrem. No,
There's no occasion.
Syrus. No occasion?
Chrem. No.
Syrus. I can not comprehend you.
Chrem. I'll explain.
— But hold I what now ? whence comes it that our door
Opens so hastily?
♦ Scene VII.
Enter at a distance Sostrata with a ring, and the Nurse.
SosTRA. Or I'm deceiv'd.
Or this is certainly the very ring ;
The ring with which my daughter was expos'd.
Chrem. {to Syrus, behind). What can those words mean,
Svnis ?
Sc. VII.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 473
SosTRA. Tell mc, Nurse !
Does it appear to you to be the same ?
Nurse. Aye, marry : and the very moment that
You show'd it me, I said it was the same.
SoSTRA. But have you thoroughly examin'd, Nurse?
Nurse. Aye, thoroughly.
SosTRA. In then, and let me know *
If she has yet done bathing ; and meanwhile
I'll wait my husband here. {Exit Nurse.
Syrus. She wants you. Sir ! inquire
What she would have. She's grave, I know not why.
'Tis not for nothing ; and I fear the cause.
Chrem. The cause ? pshaw ! nothing. She'll take mighty
pains
To be deliTcr'd of some mighty trifle.
SoSTRA. {seeing them). Oh husband ! •
Chrem. Oh wife !
SosTRA. I was looking for you.
Chrem. Your pleasure ?
SoSTRA. First, I must entreat you then,
Believe, I would not dare do any thing
Against your order.
Chrem. What ! must I believe
A thing past all belief? — I do believe it,
Syrus. This exculpation bodes some fault, I'm sure.
{Aside.')
SosTRA. Do you remember, I was pregnant once,
When you assur'd me with much earnestness,
That if I were deliver'd of a girl.
You would not have the child brought up ?
Chrem. I know
What you have done. You have brought up the child.
Syrus. Madam, if so, my master gains a loss.
SosTRA. No, I have not : but there was at that time
An old Corinthian Avoman dwelling here,
To whom I gave the child to be expos'd.
Chrem. O Ju})iter ! Avas ever such a fool !
SoSTRA. Ah, Avhat haAC I committed?
' Chrem. What committed!
SosTRA. If I've offended, Chremes, 'tis a crime
Of ignorance, and nothing of my purpose.
Chrem. Own it or not, I knoAv it aa'cII enough,
That ignoraiitly, and imprudently.
You do and say all things ; how many faults
In this one action are you guilty of!
For first, had you complied Avith my commands.
The girl had been dispatch'd ; and not her death
Pretended, and hopes giA^en of her life.
But that I do not dAvell upon : You'll cry,
— Pity, — a mother's fondness. — I alloAV it.
But then hoAv rarely yon provided for her!
474 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. [Act III., He. VII.
What could you mean ? consider ! — for 'tis plain,
You have betroy'd your child to that old beldam,
Either for prostitution, or for sale.
So she but liv'd, it Avas enough, you thought :
No matter how, or Avhat vile life slie led.
— What can one do, or how proceed, with those,
Who kn(^^v of neither reason, right, nor justice ?
Better or worse, for or against, they see
Nothing but what they list.
SoSTRA. My dearest Chremes,
I own I have offended: I'm convinc'd.
But since you're more experienc'd than myself,
I pray you be the more indulgent too,
And let my weakness shelter in your justice.
Chrem. Well, well, I pardon you : but, Sostrata,
^Forgiving you thus easily, I do
But teach you to offend again. But come,
Say, wherefore yovi began this?
SosTRA. As we women
Are generally weak and superstitious.
When first to this Corinthian old woman
I gave the little infant, from my finger
I drew a ring, and charg'd her to expose
That with my daughter: that if chance she died,
She might have part of our possessions with her.
Chrem. 'Twas right: you thus preserv'd yourself and her,
SosTRA. This is that ring.
Chrem. Where had it you?
SoSTRA. The girl
That Bacchis brought with her
Syrus. Ha ! (Aside.)
Chrem. What says she?
SosTRA. Desiv'd I'd keep it while she went to bathe.
I took no notice on't, at first ; but I
No sooner look'd on't than I knew't again,
And straight ran out to you.
Chrem. And what d'ye think,
Or know concerning her?
SosTRA. I can not teli.
Till you inquire it of hei'self, and find.
If possible, from whence she had the ring.
Syrus. Undone ! I see more hope than I desire.
She's ours, if this be so. (Aside.)
Chrem. Is she alive
To whom you gave the child?
SosTRA. I do not know.
Chrem. What did she tell you formerly ?
SoSTRA. That she
Had done what I commanded her.
Chrem. Her name;
That wc may make inquiry.
Act IV., Sc. II.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 475
lost,
(Aside.)
SosTUA. Philtere.
Syrus. The very same ! she's found, and I am lost.
Chrem. In with me, Sostrata !
SosTRA. Beyond my hopes.
How much I fear'd you should continue still
So rigidly inclin'd, as formerly,
"When you refus'd to educate her, Chremes !
Chrem. Men can not always be as they desire,
But must be govern'd by their fortunes still.
The times are alter'd with me, and I wish
To have a daughter now ; then, nothing less.
ACT THE FOURTH.
Scene I.
Syrus, alone.
My mind misgives me, my defeat is nigh,
This unexpected incident has driven
My forces into such a narrow pass,
I can not even handsomely retreat
Without some feint, to hinder our old man
From seeing that this wench is Clitipho's.
As for the money, and the trick I dream'd of,
Those hopes are flown, and I shall hold it triumph,
So I but 'scape a scouring — Cursed fortune,
To have so delicate a morsel snatch'd
Out of my very jaws ! — Whaf shall I do?
AVhat new device ? for I must change my plan.
— Nothing so dilHcult, hvkt may be won
By industry.— Suppose, I try it thus. {Thinldng .)
— 'Twill never do. — Or thus ? — No better still.
But thus I think. — No, no. — Yes, excellent!
Courage ! I have it. — Good ! — Good ! — best of all ! —
— 'Faith, I begin to hope to lay fast hold
Of that same slipp'ry money after all.
Scene II.
Enter Clinia at another part of the stage.
Clin. Henceforward, fate, do with me what thou wilt !
Such is my joy, so full and absolute,
I can not know vexation. 'From this hour
To you, my father, I resign myself.
Content to be more frugal than you wish !
Syrus {overhearing). 'Tis just as I suppos'd. The girl's
acknowledged ;
476 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. tAcT IV.
His ra])tures speak it so. — {Going vp.) I'm overjoyed
That things have happen'd to your wish.
• Clin. O Syrus!
Have you then heard it too?
Syrus. I heard it? Aye:
I, who was present at the very time !
Clin. Was ever any thing so lucky?
Syrus. Nothing.
Clin. Now, Heav'n so help me, I rejoice at this
On her account much rather than my own,
Her, whom I know worthy the higliest honors.
Syrus. No doubt on't. — But now, Clinia, hold a while I
Give me a moment's hcarintr in my turn.
Eor your friend's business must be thought of now,
And well secur'd, lest our old gentleman
Suspect about the wench.
Clin. O Jupiter ! (In raptures.)
Syrus. Peace! {Impatientlij.')
Clin. My Antipliila shall be my wife.
Syrus. And will you interrupt me ?
Clin. Oh, my Syrus,
What can I do ! I'm overjoy' d. Bear with me.
Syrus. Troth so I do.
Clin. AVe're happy, as the Gods.
Syrus. I lose my labor on you.
Clin. Speak ; I hear.
Syrus. Aye, but you don't attend.
Clin. I'm all attention.
Syrus. I say then, Clinia, that your friend's affairs
Must be attended to, and well secui-'d :
For if you now depart alwuptly from us.
And leave the wench upon our hands, my master
Will instantly discover she belongs
To Clitipho. But if you take* her off,
It will remain, as still it is, a secret.
Clin. But, Syrus, this is flatly opposite
To what I most devoutly wish, my marriage,
For with what face shall I accost my father?
D'ye understand me?
Syrus. Aye.
Clin. What can I say?
What reason can I give him?
Syrus. Tell no lie.
Speak the plain truth.
Clin. How?
Syrus. Every syllable. ,
Tell him your passion for Antiphila;
Tell him you wish to marry her, and tell him
Bacchis belongs to Clitipho.
Clin. 'Tis well,
In reason, and may easily be done:
Sc. III.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 477
And then besides you'd have me win my father,
To keep it hid from your old gentleman.
Strus. No ; rather to prevail on him, to go
And tell him the whole truth immediately.
Clin. How ? are you mad ? or drunk ? You'll be the ruin
Of Clitipho : for how can he be safe ?
Eh, Sirrah!
Syrus. That's my master-piece : this plot
Is my chief glory, and I'm proud to think
I have such force, such power of cunning in me,
As to be able to deceive them both,
By speaking the plain truth : that when your fatlier
Tells Chremes, Bacchis is his own son's jnistress,
He sha'n't believe it.
Clin. But that way again
You blast my hopes of marriage : for while Chremes
Supposes her my mistress, he'll not grant
His daughter to ifie. You, perhaps, don't care,
So you provide for him, what comes of me.
Syrus, Why, plague! d'ye think I'd have you counterfeit
Forever? but "a day, to give me time •
To bubble Chremes of the money. — Peace !
Not an hour more.
Clin. Is that sufficient for you?
But then, suppose his father find it out !
Syrus. Suppose, as some folks say, the sky should fall !
Clin. Still I'm afraid.
Syrus. Afraid indeed, as if
It was not in your pow'r, whene'er you pleas'd.
To clear yourself, and tell the whole affair.
Clin. Well, well, let Bacchis be brought over then !
Sykus. Well said ; and here she comes.
Scene III.
Enter Bacchis, Phrygia, etc., at another part of the stage.
Bacch. Upon my life,
This Syrus with his golden promises
Has fool'd me hither charmingly ! Ten mina3
He gave me full assurance of: but if
He now deceives me, come whene'er he will.
Canting and fawning to allure me hither,
It shall be all in vain; I will not stir.
Or when I have agreed, and fix'd a time,
Of which he shall have giv'n his master notice,
And Clitipho is all agog with hope,
I'll fairly jilt them both, and not come near them ;
And master Syrus' back shall smart for it.
Clin. She promises you very fair.
Syrus. D'ye think
She jests ? She'll do it, if I don't take heed.
478 THE SELF-TORMENTOR [Act IV
Bacch. They sleep : i' faith, I'll rouse them. Hark ye,
Phrygia,
Didst note the villa of Charinus, which
That fellow just now show'd us ? {Aloud.)
Phrt. I did. Madam.
Bacch. The next house on the right hand, (Aloud.)
Phry. I remember.
Bacch. Run thither quickly ; for the Captain spends
The Dionysia there. (Aloud.)
Syrus (behind). What means she now?
Bacch. Tell him I'm here ; and sore against my will,
Detain'd by force ; but that I'll find some means
To slip away and come to him. (Aloud.)
Syrus. Confusion ! — ( Coynes forward.)
Stay, Bacchis, Bacchis ! where d'ye send that girl ?
Bid her stop!
Bacch. Go! (Jo Phrygia.)
Syrus. The money's ready.
Bacch. Then
I stay. (Phrygia returns.)
• Syrus. This instant you shall have it, Bacchis.
Bacch. When you please ; I don't press you.
Syrus. But d'ye know
What you're to do?
Bacch. Why, what?
Syrus. You must go over,
You and yonr equipage, to Menedemus.
Bacch. What are you at now, sauce-box?
Syrus. Coining money
For your use, Bacchis.
Bacch. Do you think to play
Your jests on me ?
Syrus. No ; this is downright earnest.
Bacch. Are you the person I'm to deal with ?
Syrus. No.
But there I'll pay the money.
Bacch. Let us go then!
Syrus. Follow her there. Ho, Dromo !
Scene IV.
Enter Dromo.
Dromo. Who calls?
Syrus. Syrus.
Dromo. If our pleasure ! What's the matter now ?
Syrus. Conduct
All Bacchis' maids to your house instantly.
Dromo. Why so ? "^
Syrus. No questions : let them carry over
All they brought hither. Our old gentleman
Sc. v.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 479
Will think himself reliev'd from much expense
By their departure. Troth, he little knows
With how much loss this small gain threatens him.
If you're wise, Dromo, know not what you know.
Dbomo. I'm dumb.
(Exit Dromo, ivith Bacchis' servants and haggaje^ into
the house of Menedemus.
Scene V.
After lohich, enter Ciiremes.
CiiREM. {to himself). Tore Heav'n, I pity Menedemus.
His case is lamentable: to maintain
That jade and all her harlot family !
Although I know for some few days to come
He will not feel it ; so exceedingly
He long'd to have his son : but when he sees
Such monstrous household riot and expense
Continue daily, without end or measure,
He'll wish his son away from him again.
But yonder's Syrus in good time. {Seeing Syrus.)
Syrus. I'll to him. {Aside.)
Chre3i. Syrus !
Syrus. Who's there? {Turning about.)
Chrem. What now?
Syrus. The very man!
I have been wishing for you this long time.
Chrem. You seem to've been at work with the old man.
Syrus. What ! at our plot ? No sooner said than done.
Chrem. Indeed!
Syrus. Indeed.
Chrem. I can't forbear to stroke
Your head for it. Good lad ! come nearer, Syrus !
I'll do thee some good turn for this. I will,
I promise you. {Patting his head.)
Syrus. Ah, if you did but know
How luckily it came into my head !
Chrem. Pshaw, are you vain of your good luck ?
Syrus. Not I.
I speak the plain truth.
Chrem. Let me know it then.
Syrus. Clinia has told his father tliat the wench
Is mistress to your Clitipho ; and that
He brought her with him hither, to prevent
Your smoking it.
Chrem. Incomparable !
Syrus. Really?
Chrem. O, admirable!
Syrus. Aye, if you knew all.
But only hear the rest of our advice.
480 THE SELF-TOUMENTOR. [Act IV.
He'll tell his father he has seen your daughter,
"Whose beauty has so charm'd him at first sight,
He longs to marry her.
Chrem. Antiphila?
Sykus. The same : and he'll request him to demand her
Of you in marriage.
Chrem. To what purpose, Syrus?
I don't conceive the drift on't.
Syrus. No! you're slow.
Chrem. Perhaps so.
Syrus. Menedemus instantly
Will furnish him with money for the wedding,
To buy d'ye take me ?
Chrem. Clothes and jewels.
Syrus. Aye.
Chrem. But I will neither marry, nor betroth
My daughter to him.
Syrus. Ko ? Why ?
Chrem. Wiiy ! — is that
A question ? to a wretch !
Syrus. Well, as you please.
I never meant that he should marry her,
But only to pretend
Chrem. I hate pretense.
Plot as you please, but do not render me
An engine in your rogueries. Shall I
Contract my daughter, where I never can
Consent to marry her?
Syrus. I fancied so.
Chrem. Not I.
Syrus. It might be done most dextrously:
And, in obedience to your strict commands,
I undertook this business.
Chrem. I believe it.
Syrus. However, Sir, I meant it well.
Chrem. Nay, nay,
Do't by all means, and spar* no trouble in't ;
But bring your scheme to bear some other way.
Syrus. It shall be done : I'll think upon some other.
— But then the money which I mention'd to you,
Owing to Bacchis by Antiphila,
Must be repaid her: and you will not now
Attempt to shift the matter oif ; or say,
" — What is't to me? was I the borrower?
Did I command it? Could she pledge my daughter
Against my will ?" You can say none of this ;
For 'tis a common saying, and a true.
That strictest law is oft the highest wrong.
Chrem. I mean not to evade it.
Syrus. No, I'll warrant.
Nay you, though others did, could never think on't ;
Sc VI. j THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 481
For all the world imagines you've acqnir'd
A fair and handsome fortune.
CiiREM. I will carry
The money to her instantly myself.
Strus. No ; rather send it by your son.
CiiREM. Why so !
Syrus. Because he acts the part of her gallant.
Chrem. What then?
Syrus. Why then 'twill seem more probable,
If he presents it : I too shall effect
My scheme more easily. — And here he is.
— In, Sir, and fetch the money out.
Chrem. I will. {Exit Ciiremks.
Scene VI.
Enter Clitipho.
Clit. {to himself). Nothing so easy in itself, but when
Perform'd against one's will, grows difficult.
This little walk how easy! yet how faint
And weary it has made me! — and I fear
Lest I be still excluded, and forbid
To come near Bacchis. {Seeing Syrus.) — Now all powers above.
Confound you, Syrus, for the trick you play'd me!
That brain of yours is evermore contriving
Some villainy to torture me withal.
Syrus. Away, you malapert ! Your frowardness
Had well-nigh ruin'd me.
Clit. I would it had.
As you deserv'd!
Syrus. As I deserv'd! — How's that? —
r faith I'm glad I heard you say so much
Before you touch'd the cash, that I was just
About to give you.
Clit. Why, what can I say?
You went away ; came back, beyond my lio])es,
And brought my mistress with you ; then again
Forbade my touching her.
Syrus. Well, well, I can't
Be peevish with you now — But do you know-
Where Bacchis is ?
Clit. At our house.
Syrus. No.
Clit. Where then?
Syrus. At Clinia's.
Clit. Then I'm ruin'd.
Syrus. Courage, man!
You shall go to her instantly, and carry
The money that you prorais'd her.
Clit. Fine talk!
Where should I get it?
X
482 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. [Act IV.
Syrus. From jour fathei-.
Clit. Pshaw!
You play upon me.
Syrus. The event shall show.
Clit. Then I am bless'd indeed. Thanks, thanks, dear
Syrus !
Syrus. Hist! here's your father. — Have a care! don't seem
Surpris'd at any thing: give way in all:
Do as he bids, and say but little. Mum!
Scene VH.
Enter Chremes.
Chrem. Where's Clitipho?
Syrus {to Clitipho). Here, say.
Clit. Here, Sir!
Chrem. Have you
Inform'd him of the business? (7o Syrus.)
Syrus. In good part.
Chrem. Here, take the money then, and carry it.
{To Clitipho.)
Syrus. Plague, how yo'u stand, log! — take it.
Clit. Give it mc. {xUvkwardly.)
Syrus, Now in with me immediately! — You, Sir,
{To Chremes.)
Be pleas'd meanwhile to wait our coming here ;
There's nothing to detain us very long.
(Exit Clitipho and Syrus.
Scene VHI.
Chremes alone.
My daughter now has had ten minas of me.
Which I account laid out upon her board:
Ten more her clothes will come to: and moreover
Two talents for her portion. How unjust
And absolute is custom! I must now
Leave every thing, and find a stranger out.
On whom I may bestow the sum of wealth
Which I have so much labor'd to acquire.
Scene IX.
Enter Menedemus.
Mene. (J.0 himself). Oh son, how happy hast thou made thy
father,
Convinc'd of thy repentance !
Chrem. {overhearing). How mistaken !
Mene. Chremes ! I wish'd for you. — 'Tis in your power,
So. IX.] THE «ELF-TOKMENT0R. 483
And I beseech you do it, to preserve
My son, myself, and family.
Chrem. I'll do't.
Wherein can I oblige you?
Mene, You to-day
Hare found a daughter.
Chrem. True. What then?
Mene. My Clinia
Begs your consent to marry her.
Chrem. Good Heaven!
What kind of man are you?
Mene. What mean you, Chremes?
Chrem. Has it then slipp'd your memory so soon,
The conversation that we had together,
Touching the rogueries they should devise,
To trick you of your money ?
Mene. I remember.
Chrem. This is the trick.
Mene. How, Chremes? I'm deceiv'd.
'Tis as you say. From -what a pleasing hope
Have I then fall'n!
Chrem. And she, I warrant you,
Now at your house, is my son's mistress ? Eh !
Mene. So they say.
Chrem. What! and you belicv'd it?
Mene. All.
Chrem. — And they say too he wants to marry her;
That soon as I've consented, you may give him
Money to furnish her with jewels, clothes,
And other necessaries.
Mene. Aye, 'tis so:
The money's for his mistress,
Chrem. To be sure.
Mene. Alas, my transports are all groundless then.
— Yet I would rather bear with any thing.
Than lose my son again. — What answer, Chremes,
Shall I return with, that he mayn't perceive
I've found him out, and take offense?
Chrem. Offense!
You're too indulgent to him, Menedemus !
Mene. Allow me. I've begun, and must go through.
Do but continue to assist me.
Chrem. Say,
That we have met, antl treated of the match.
Mene. Well ; and what else ?
Chrem. That I give full conse»t;
That I approve my son-in-law ; — In short,
You may assure him also, if you please,
That I've betroth'd my daughter to him.
Mene. Good!
The thing I wanted.
484 THE SELl^-TORMENTOR. [Act V.
Chrem. So shall he the sooner
Demand the money; you, as you desire,
The sooner give.
Mene. 'Tis my desire indeed.
Chrem. 'Trotli, friend, as far as I can judge of this,
You'll soon be weary of your son again.
But as the case now stands, give cautiously,
A little at a time, if you are wise.
Mene. I will.
Chrem. Go in, and see what he demands.
If you should want me, I'm at home.
Mene. 'Tis well.
For I shall let you know, do what I will. {Exeunt severally.
ACT THE FIFTH.
Scene I.
Menedemus alone.
That I'm not overwise, no conjurer,
I know full Avell : but my assistant here,
And counselor, iand grand controller Chremes,
Outgoes me far : dolt, blockhead, ninny, ass ;
Or these, or any other common terms
By which men speak of fools, befit me well :
But him they suit not : his stupidity
Is so transcendent, it exceeds them all.
Scene II.
Enter Chremes.
Chrem. (to Sostrata, within). Nay prithee, good wife, cease
to stun the Gods
With thanking them that you have found your daughter;
Unless you fancy they are like yourself.
And think they can not understand a thing
= Unless said o'er and o'er a hundred times.
— ^But meanwhile {coming forward) wherefore do my son and
Syrus
• Loiter so long ?
Mene. Who are those loiterers, Chremes ?
Chrem. Ha, Men^emus, are you there? — Inform me,
Have you told Clinia what I said ?
Mene. The whole.
Chrem. And what said he ?
Mene. Grew quite transported at it,
Like those who wish for marriage.
Sell.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 485
CiiREM. Ha! ha! ha!
Mene. What do you laugh at?
Chrem. I was thinking of
The cunning rogueries of that slave, Syrus. (Laughing.^
Mene. Oh, was that it ?
Chrem. Why, he can form and mould
The very visages of men, a rogue ! {Laughing.^
Mene. Meaning my son's well-acted transport ?
Chre3I. Aye. {Laughing.)
Mene. The very same thing I was thinking of.
Chrem. A subtle villain ! {Laughing.')
Mene. Nay, if you knew more,
You'd be still more convinc'd on't.
Chrem. Say you so ?
Mene. Aye; do but hear.
Chrem. (laughing). Hold! hold! inform me first
How much you're out of pocket. For as soon
As you inform'd your son of my consent,
Dromo, I warrant, gave you a broad hint
That the bride wanted jewels, clothes, attendants ;
That you might pay the money.
Mene. No.
Chrem. How? No?
I Mene. No, I say.
Chrem. What ! nor Clinia ?
Mene. Noj; a word ;
But only press'd the marriage for to-day.
Chrem. Amazing I — But our Syrus ? Did uot he
Throw in a word or two ?
Mene. Not he.
Chrem. How so ?
Mene. Faith I can't tell : but I'm amaz'd that yon,
Who see so clearly into all the rest.
Should stick at this. — But that arch villain Syriis
Has form'd and moulded your son too so rarely.
That nobody can have the least suspicion
That this is Clinia's mistress.
Chrem. How ?
Mene. I pass
Their kisses and embraces. All that's nothing.
Chrem. What is there more than he can coViptf^xf^t ?
Mene. Ah ! {Smiling.)
Chrem. What d'ye mean?
Mene. Nay, do but hear. I have
A private snug apartment, a back room.
Whither a bed was brought and made.
Chrejf. What then ?
Mene. No sooner done, than in went Clitipho*
Chrem. Alone ?
Mene. Alone.
Chrem. I tremble.
486 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. [Act V.
Mene. Bacchis follow'd.
Chkem. Alone?
Mene. Alone.
Chrem. Undone !
Mene. No sooner in,
Eut they made fast the door.
Chrem. Ha ! And was Clinia
Witness to this ?
Mene. He was. — Both he and I.
Chrem. Bacchis is my son's mistress, Menedemus.
I'm ruin'd.
Mene. Why d'ye think so ?
Chrem. Mine is scarce
A ten-days' family.
Mene. What arc you dismay'd
Because he sticks so closely to his friend?
Chrem. Friend ! His she-friend.
Mene. If so
Chrem. Is that a doubt?
Is any man so courteous, and so patient,
As tamely to stand by and see his mistress
Mene. Ha, ha, ha! Why not? — That I, you know,
Might be more easily impos'd upon. {Ironically.)
Chrem. D'ye laugh at me? I'm angry with myself:
And well I may. How many circumstances
Conspir'd to make it gross and palpable, •
Had I not been a stone ! — What things I saw !
Fool, fool ! But by my life Til be reveng'd :
For now
Mene. And can't you then contain yourself?
Have you no self-respect ? And am not I
A full example for you ?
Chrem. Menedemus,
My anger throws me quit% beside myself.
Mene. That you should talk thus ! is it not a shame
To be so lib'ral of advice to others.
So wise abroad, and poor in sense at home ?
Chrem. What shall I do ?
Mene. That which but even now
You counsel'd me to do : Give him to know
That you're indeed a father: let him dare
Trust his whole soul to you, seek, ask of you ;
Lest he to others have recourse, and leave you.
Chrem. And let him go ; go where he will ; much rather
Than here by his extravagance reduce
His father to distress and beggary.
For if I should continue to supply
The course of his expenses, Menedemus,
Your desp'rate rakes would be my lot indeed.
Mene. Ah, to what evils you'll expose yourself,
Unless you're cautious ! You will seem severe.
Sc. II.] THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 487
And yet forgive him afterward, and then
With an ill grace too.
Chrem. Ah, you do not know
How much this grieves me.
Mene. Well, well, take your way.
But tell me, do you grant me my request
That this your new-found daughter wed my son ?
Or is there aught more welcome to you?
Chrem. Nothing.
The son-in-law and the alliance please me.
Mene. What portion shall I tell my son you've settled !
Why are you silent?
Chrem. Portion !
Mene. Aye, what portion?
Chrem. Ah!
Mene. Fear not, Chremes, though it be but small :
The portion nothing moves us.
Chrem. I propos'd.
According to my fortune, that two talents
Were full sufficient: But you now must say,
If you'd save me, my fortune, and my son,
That I have settled all I have upon her.
Mene. What mean you?
Chrem. Counterfeit amazement too.
And question Clitipho my reason for it.
Mene. Nay, but I really do not know your reason.
Chrem. My reason for it? — That his wanton mind,
Now ^ush'd with lux'ry and lasciviousness,
I may o'erwhelm: and bring him down so low,
He may not know which way to turn himself.
Mene. What are you at ?
Chrem. Allow me ! let me have
My own way in this business. •
Mene. I allow you.
Is it your pleasure ?
Chrem, It is.
Mene. Be it so.
Chrem. Come then, let Clinia haste to call the bride.
And for this son of mine, he shall be school'd,
As children ought. — But Syrus!
Mene. What of him ?
Chrem. What ! I'll so handle him, so curry him,
That while he lives he shall remember me.
{Exit Menedemus.
What, make a jest of me ? a laughing-stock ?
Now, afore Heav'n, he would not dare to treat
A poor lone widow as he treated me.
488 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. [Act V.
Scene III.
Re-enter Menedemus, with Clitipiio and Syrus.
Clit. And can it, Menedemus, can it be,
My father has so suddenly cast off
All natural affection? for what act?
What crime, alas! so heinous have I done?
It is a common failing.
Mene. This I know,
Should be more heavy -and severe to you
On whom it falls: and yet am I no less
Affected by it, though I know not why.
And have no other reason for my grief,
But that I wish you well.
Clit. Did not you say
My father waited here ?
Mene. Aye ; there he is. {Exit MENEBrr.rus.
Chrem. Why d'ye accuse your father, Clitipho?
Whate'er I've done, was providently done
Tow'rd you and your imprudence. When I raw
Your negligence of soul, and that you held
The pleasures of to-day your only care,
Regardless of the morrow ; I found means
That you should neither want, nor waste my substance.
When you, whom fair succession first made heir.
Stood self-degraded by unworthiness,
I went to those the next in blood to yon,
Committing and consigning all to them.
There shall your weakness, Clitipho, be sure
Ever to find a refuge ; food, and raiment,
And roof to fly to. ' •
Clit. Ah me !
Chrem. Better thus.
Than, you being heir, for Bacchis to have all.
Syrus. Distraction ! what disturbances have I,
Wretch that I am, all unawares created !
Clit. Would I were dead !
CiiREM. Learn first what 'tis to live.
When you know that, if life displeases you,
Then talk of dying.
Syrus. Master, may I speak ?
Chrem. Speak.
Syrus. But with safety ?
Chrem. Speak.
Syrus. How wrong is this,
Or rather what extravagance and madness,
To punish him for my offense !
Chrem. Away!
Do not you meddle. No one blames you, Syrus!
Sc. IV.] THE SELF-TORMENTOK. * 489
Nor need you to provide a sanctuary,
Or intercessor.
Sykus. What is it you do ?
Chrem. I am not angiy, nor with you, nor him :
Nor should you take offense at Avhat I do.
{Exit Chremes.
Scene IV.
Strus. He's gone. Ah, would I'd ask'd him
Clit. Ask'd what, Syrus ?
Syrus. Where I should eat, since he has cast us off.
You, I- perceive, are quarter'd on your sister.
Clit. Is't come to this, that I should be in fear
Of starving, Syrus ?
Syrus. So we do but live.
There's hope
Clit. Of what ?
Syrus. That we shall have rare stomachs.
Clit. D'ye jest at such a time as this ;
And lend me no assistance by your counsel ?
Syrus. Nay, I was studying for you even now,
And was so all the while your father spoke.
And far as I can understand this
Clit. What?
Syrus. Stay, you shall have it presently. (Thinking.)
Clit. Well, what?
Syrus. Thus then : I don't believe that you're their son.
Clit. How Syrus ! are you mad ?
Syrus. I'll speak my thoughts.
Be you the judge. While they had you alone,
While yet there was no other nearer joy.
You they indulg'd, and gave with open hand :
But now a daughter's found, their real child,
A cause is found to drive you forth.
Clit. 'Tis like.
Syrus. Think you this fault so angers him ?
Clit. I think not.
Syrus. Consider too ; 'tis ever found that mothers
Plead for their sons, and in the father's wrath
Defend them. 'Tis not so at present.
Clit. True.
What shall I do then, Syrus?
Syrus. Ask of them
• The truth of this suspicion. Speak your thoughts.
If 'tis not so, you'll speedily incline them
Both to compassion ; or, if so, be told
Whose son you are.
Clit. Your counsel's good. I'll do't.
X2
490 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. [Act V.
Scene V.
Strus alone.
A lucky thought of mine ! for Clitipho :
The less he hopes, so much more easily
Will he reduce his father to good terms.
Besides, who knows but he may take a wife ?
No thanks to Syrus neither. — But who's here ?
Chremes !— I'm off : for seeing what has pass'd,
I wonder that he did not order me
To be truss'd up immediately. I'll hence
To Menedemus, and prevail on him
To intercede for me : as matters stand,
I dare not trust to our old gentleman. {Exit Strus.
Scene VI.
Enter Chremes, Sostrata.
SosTRA. Nay indeed, husband, if you don't take care,
You'll bring some kind of mischief on your son :
I can't imagine how a thought so idle
Could come into your head.
Chrem. Still, woman, still
D'ye contradict me ? Did I ever wish
For any thing in all my life, but you
In that same thing oppos'd me, Sostrata?
Yet now if I should ask wherein I'm wrong.
Or wherefore I act thus, you do not know.
Why then d'ye contradict me, simpleton ?
SosTRA. Not know?
Chrem. Well, well, you know: I grant it, rather
Than hear your idle story o'er again.
SosTRA. Ah, 'tis unjust in you to ask my silence
In such a thing as this.
Chrem. I do not ask it.
Speak if you will : I'll do it ne'ertheless.
SosTRA. Will you?
Chrem. I will.
SosTRA. You don't perceive what harm
May come of this. He thinks himself a foundling.
Chrem. A foundling, say you?
SosTRA. Yes indeed, he does.
• Chrem. Confess it to be true. ♦
SosTRA. Ah, Heav'n forbid !
Let our most bitter enemies do that !
Shall I disown my son, my own dear child!
Chrem. What ! do you fear you can not at your pleasure
Produce convincing proofs that he's your own ?
SosTRA. Is it because mv daugliter's found vou sav this ?
Sc. YIL] THE SELF-TORMENTOK. 491
Chrem. No : but because, a stronger reason far,
His manners so resemble yours, you may
Easily prove him thence to be your son.
He is quite like you : not a vice, whereof
He is inheritor, but dwells in you :
And such a son no mother but yourself
Could have engender'd. — But he comes. — How grave !
_ Look in his face, and you may guess his plight.
Scene VII.
Enter Clitipho.
Clit. Ob mother, if there ever was a time
When you took pleasure in me, or delight
To call me son, beseech you, think of that ;
Pity my present misery, and tell me
Who are my real parents I
SosTRA, My dear son.
Take not, I beg, that notion to your mind.
That you're an alien to our blood.
Clit. I am.
SosTRA. Ah me ! and can you then demand me that ?
So may you prosper after both, as you're
Of both the child ! and if you love your mother,
Take heed henceforward that I never hear
Such words from you.
Chuem. And if you fear your father,
See that I never find such vices in you.
Clit. What vices ?
Chrem. What? I'll tell you. Trifler, idler,
Cheat, drunkard, whoremaster, and prodigal.
— Think this, and think that you are ours.
Sostra. These words
Suit not a father.
Chrem. No, no, Clitipho,
Though from my brain you had been born, as Pallas
Sprang, it is said, from Jupiter, I would not
Bear the disgrace of your enormities.
Sostra. The Gods foi-bid
Chrem. I know not for the Gods :
I will do all that lies in me. You seek
For parents, which you have : but what is wanting,
Obedience to your father, and tlie means
To keep what he by labor hath acquir'd.
For that you seek not. — Did you not by tricks •
Ev'n to my presence introduce 1 blush
To speak immodestly before your mother :
But you by no means blush'd to do't.
Clit. Alas !
How hateful am I to mvself ! how much
492 THE SELF-TOEMENTOE. [Act V.
Am I asliam'd ! so lost, I can not tell
How to attempt to paciiy my father.
Scene VIH.
Enter Menedemus.
Mene. Now in good faith our Chremes plagues his son
Too long and too severely. I come forth
To reconcile him, and make peace between them.
And there they are !
Chrem. Ha, Menedemus ! wherefore
Is not my daughter summon'd ? and the portion,
I settled on her ; ratified by you ?
SosTRA. Dear husband, I beseech you not to do it !
Clit. My father, I entreat you pardon me !
Mene. Forgive him, Chremes ! let his pray'rs prevail !
Chrem. What ! shall I then with open eyes bestow
My whole estate on Bacchis ? I'll not do't.
Mene. We Avill prevent that. It shall not be so.
Clit. If you regard my life, forgive me, father !
SosTRA. Do, my dear Chremes !
Mene. Do, I prithee noAv !
Be not obdurate, Chremes !
Chrem. Why is this ?
I see I can't proceed as I've begun.
Mene. 'Tis as it should be now.
Chrem. On this condition.
That he agrees to do what I think fit.
Clit. I will do ev'ry thing. Command me, father!
. Chrem. Take a wife.
Clit. Father!
Chrem. Nay, Sir, no denial!
Mene. I take that charge upon me. He shall do't.
Chrem. But I don't hear a word of it from him.
Clit. Confusion !
SosTRA. Do you doubt then, Clitipho?
Chrem. Nay, which he pleases.
Mene. He'll obey in all ;
Whate'er you'd have him.
SosTRA. This at first is grievous,
While you don't know it; when you know it, easy.
Clit. I'm all obedience, father!
SosTRA. Oh my son,
I'll give you a sweet wife, that you'll adore,
Phanocrata's, our neighbor's daughter.
Clit. Her!
That red-hair'd, blear-eyed, wide-mouth'd, hook-nos'd wench ?
I can not, father.
Chrem. Oh, how nicer he is !
Would any one imagine it ?
Sc. VIII.J THE SELF-TOKMENTOR. 493
SosTEA. I'll get you
Another then.
Clit. Well, well; since I must marry,
I know one pretty near my mind.
SosTRA. Good boy!
Clit. The daughter of Archonides, our neighbor.
SosTRA, Well chosen!
Clit, One thing, father, still remains.
Chrem. What?
Clit. That you'd grant poor Syrus a full pardon
For all that he hath done on my account.
Chrem. Be it so.— (2b the Audience.) Earewell Sirs, and
clap your hands !
THE BROTHERS.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Prologue.
Geta.
Demea.
Dromo.
Micio.
Parmeno, other Servants, etc.
-S^SCHINUS.
Ctesipho.
SOSTRATA.
Hegio.
Canthara.
Sannio.
Music-Girl, and ofJw Mutes
Syrus.
Scene,
Athens.
PROL(
DGUE.
The Bard perceiving his piece cavil'd at
By partial critics, and his adversaries
Misrepresenting what we're now to play.
Pleads his own cause : and you shall be the judges,
Whether he merits praise or condemnation.
The Synapothnescontes is a piece
By Diphilus, a comedy which Plautus,
Having translated, call'd Commorientes.
In the beginning of the Grecian play
There is a youth, who rends a girl perforce
Prom a procurer: and this incident,
Untouched by Plautus, render'd word for word,
Has our bard intei'woven with his Brothers ;
The new piece which we represent to-day.
Say then if this be theft, or honest use
Of what remain'd unoccupied. — For that
Which malice tells, that certain noble persons
Assist the Bard, and write in concert with him ;
That which they deem a heavy slander, He
Esteems his greatest praise : that he can please
Those who please you, who all the people please ;
Those who in war, in peace, in counsel, ever
Have render'd you the dearest services,
And ever borne their faculties so meekly.
Expect not now the story of the play :
Part the old men, who first appear, wiH open ;
A( T L, Sc. J.j THE JJliUTlIEKS. 495
Part will in r.ct be shown. — Be favorable;
And let your candor to the poet now
Increase his future earnestness to write I
ACT THE FIRST.
Scene I.
Enter Micio.
Ho, Storax! — iEschinus did not return
Last night from supper ; no, nor any one
Of all the slaves who went to see for him.
— 'Tis commonly — and oh how truly! — said,
If you are absent, or delay, 'twere best
That should befall you, whi^rh your wife denounces,
Or which in anger she calls down upon you,
Than that which kindest parents fear. — Your wife,
If you delay, or thinks that you're in love,
Or lov'd, or drink, or entertain yourself.
Taking your pleasure, while she pines at home.
— And what a world of fears possess me noW !
How anxious that ray son is not return'd ;
Lest he take cold, or fall, or break a limb !
— Gods, that a man should suffer any one
To wind himself so close about his heart,
As to grow dearer to him than himself!
And yet he is not my son, but my brother's,
Whose bent of mind is wholly different.
I, from youth upward even to this day,
Have led a quiet and serene town-life ;
And, as some reckon fortunate, ne'er married.
He, in all points the opposite of this.
Has pass'd his days entirely in the countiy
With thrift and labor ; married ; had two sons ;
The elder boy is by adoption mine ;
I've brought him up ; kept ; lov'd him as my own ;
Made him my joy, and all my soul holds dear.
Striving to make myself as dear to him.
I give, o'erlook, nor think it requisite
That all his deeds should be controll'd by me,
Giving him scope to act as of himself;
So that the pranks of youth, which other children
Hide from their fathers, I have us'd my son
Not to conceal from me. Eor whosoe'er
Hath, won upon himself to play the false one.
And practice impositions on a father.
Will do the same with less remorse to others ;
40G THE BROTHERS. [Act I.
And 'tis, in my opinion, Letter far
To bind your children to you by the ties
Of gentleness and modesty, than fear.
And yet my brother don't accord in this,
Nor do these notions nor tliis conduct please him.
Oft he comes open-mouth'd — Why hoAV now, Micio?
Why do you ruin this young lad of ours ?
Why does he wench? why drink? and why do you
Allow him money to afford all this ?
You let him dress too fine. 'Tis idle in you'.
— 'Tis hard in him, unjust and out of reason.
And he, I think, deceives himself indeed,
Who fancies that authority more firm
Founded on force, than what is built on friendsliip ;
For thus I reason, thus persuade myself:
He who performs his duty driven to't
By fear of punishment, while he believes
His actions are observ'd, so long he's wary ;
But if he hopes for secrecjr, returns
To his own ways again : But he whom kindness.
Him also inclination makes your own :
He burns to make a due return, and acts,
Present or absent, evermore the same.
'Tis this then is the duty of a father.
To make a son embrace a life of virtue,
Rather from choice than terror or constraint.
Here lies the mighty difference between
A father and a master. He who knows not
How to do this, let him confess he knows not
How to rule children. — But is this the man
Whom I was speaking of? Yes, yes, 'tis he.
* He seems uneasy too, I know not why.
And I suppose, as usual, comes to wrangle.
Scene II.
Enter Demea.
Micio. Demea, I'm glad to sec you well.
Demea. Oho!
Well met: the very man I came to seek.
Micio. But you appear uneasy: What's the matter?
Demea. Is it a question, when there's ^schinus
To trouble us, what makes me so uneasy?
Micio. I said it would be so. — What has he done ?
Demea. What has he done? a wretch, whom neither ties
Of shame, nor fear, nor any law can bind !
For not to speak of all his former pranks,
What has he been about but even now !
Micio. What has he done?
Demea. Burst open doors, and forc'd
Sc. 11.] THE BROTHERS. 497
His way into another's house, and beat
The master and his family half dead;
And carried off a wench whom he was fond of.
The whole town cries out shame upon him, Micio.
I have been told of it a hundred times
Since my arrival. 'Tis the common talk.
And if Ave needs must draw comparisons.
Does not he see his brother thrifty, sober,
Attentive to his business in the country?
Not given to these practices ; and when
I say all this to him, to you I say it.
You are his ruin, Micio.
Micio. How unjust
Is he who wants experience ! who believes
Nothing is right but what he does himself!
Demea. AVhy d'ye say that ?
Micio. Because you, Demea,
Judge wrongly of these matters. 'Tis no crime
For a young 'man to wench or drink. — 'Tis not,
Believe me! — nor to force doors open. — This,
If neither you nor I have done, it was
That poverty allow'd us not. And now
You claim, a merit to yourself, from that
Which want constrain' d you to. It is not fair.
For had there been but wherewithal to do't.
We likewise should have done thus. Wherefore you,
Were you a man, would let your younger son,
Now, while it suits his age, pursue his pleasures ;
Rather than, when it less becomes his years.
When, after wishing long, he shall at last
Be rid of you, he should run riot then.
Demea. Oh Jupiter! the man will drive me mad.
Is it no crime, d'ye say, for a young man
To take these courses ?
Micio. Nay, nay; do but hear me.
Nor stun me with the self-same thing forever !
Your elder son you gave me for adoption:
He's mine, then^ Demea ; and if he offends,
'Tis an offense to me, and I must bear
The burden. Does he treat ? or drink ? or dress ?
'lis at my cost. Or wench ? I will supply him,
While 'tis convenient to me ; when 'tis not,
His mistresses perhaps will shut him out.
— Has he broke open doors ? we'll make them good.
Or torn a coat? it shall be mended. I,
Thank Heaven, have enough to do all this.
And 'tis as yet not irksome. — In a woi'd,*
Or cease, or choose some arbiter between us :
I'll prove that you are moi^e in fault than I.
Demea. Ah, learn to be a father ; learn from those
Who know what 'tis to be indeed a parent!
498 THE BROTHERS. [Act I., Sc. IH.
Micio. By nature you're liis father, I by counsel.
Demea. You ! do you counsel any thing ?
Micio. Nay, nay;
If you persist, I'm gone.
Demea. Is't thus you treat me ?
Micio. Must I still hear the same thing o'er and o'er?
Demea. It touches me.
Micio. And me it touches too.
But, Demea, let us each look to our own ;
Let me take care of one, and mind you t'other.
For to concern yourself with both, appears
As if you'd redemand the boy you gave.
Demea. Ah, Micio !
Micio. So it seems to me.
Demea. Well, well ;
Let him, if 'tis your pleasure, waste, destroy. -
And squander ; it is no concern of mine.
If henceforth I e'er say one word ■
Micio. Again ?
Angry again, good Demea ?
Demea. You may trust me.
Do I demand him back again I gave you ?
— It hurts me. I am not a stranger to him.
— But if I once oppose Well, well, I've done.
You wish I should take care of one. I do
Take special care of him ; and he, thank Heav'n,
Is as I wish. he should be: which 3'our ward,
I warrant, shall find out one time or other.
I will not say aught worse of him at present. (Exit.
Scene III.
Micio alone.
Though what he says be not entirely true,
There's something in it, and it touches me.
But I dissembled my concern with him.
Because the nature of the man is such,
To pacify, I must oppose and thwart him ;
And even thus I scarce can teach him patience.
But were I to inflame, or aid his anger,
I were as great a madman as himself.
Yet JEschinus, 'tis true, has been to blame.
What wench is there he has not lov'd ? to whom
He has not made some present And but lately
(Tir'd, I suppose, and sick of wantonness)
He told me he propos'd to take a w^fe.
I hop'd the heyday of the blood was over,
And was rejoic'd : but his intemperance
Breaks out afresh. Well, be it what it may,
I'll find him out ; and know it instantly.
If he is to be met with at the Forum. (Exit.
Act II., Sc. I.] THE BROTHERS. 499
ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.
te7' iEscHixus, Sannio, Pakmeno, the Music-Girl, and a crowd
of People.
San. Help, help, dear countrymen, for Heaven's sake !
Assist a miserable, harmless man!
Help the distress'd !
iEscH. (to the Girl). Fear nothing : stand just there !
Why d'ye look back ? you're in no danger. Never,
While I am by, shall he lay hands upon you.
San. Aye, but I will, in spite of all the world.
JEscii. Rogue as he is, he'll scarce do any thing
To make me cudgel him again to-day.
San. One word, Sir iEschinus ! that you may not
Pretend to ignorance of my profession ;
I'm a procurer.
^scii. True.
San. And in my way
Of as good faith as any man alive.
Hereaftei', to absolve yourself, you'll cry,
That you repent of having wrong'd me thus.
I sha'n't care that for your excuse. (^Snapping hisjingersj)
Be sure
I'll prosecute my right ; nor shall fine words
Atone for evil deeds. I know your way,
" I'm sorry that I did it : and I'll swear
You are unworthy of tliis injury"
Though all the while I'm us'd most scurvily.
-ffiscH. {to Par.) Do you go fonvard, Parmeno, and throw
The door wide open.
San. That sha'n't signify.
Mscn. {to Parmeno). Now in with her !
San. (stepping between). I'll not allow it.
-35scH. (to Parmeno). Here!
Come hither, Parmeno ! — you're too far off. —
Stand close to that pimp's side — There — there — just there !
And now be sure you always keep your eyes
Steadfastly fix'd on mine ; and when I wink,
To drive your fist directly in his face.
San. Aye, if he dare.
iEscH. (to Parmeno). Now mind! — {To Sannio). Let go the
girl (Sannio still struggling with the Girl, -Si^schinus
winks, and Parmeno strikes Sannio).
San. Oh monstrous !
-^SCH. He shall double it, unless
You mend your manners. (Parmeno strikes Sannio again.)
500 THE BROTHERS. [Act II.
San. Help, help : murder, murder !
jEsch. (to Parmeno). I did not wink : but you had better err
That way than t'other. Now go in with her.
(Parmeno leads the Girl into Micio's liouse.')
San. How's this? — Do you reign king here, .^schinus?
^SCH. Did I reign king, you should be recompens'd
According to your virtues, I assure you.
San. What business have you with me ?
-3EscH. None.
San. D'ye kno\y
Who I am, jEschinus ?
-^SCH. Nor want to know.
San. Have I touch'd aught of yours. Sir?
^SCH. If you had,
You should have suffer'd for't.
San. What greater right
Have you to take away my slave, for wliom
I paid my money ? answer me !
iEscH. * 'Twere best
You'd leave off bellowing before our door :
If you continue to be troublesome,
I'll have you dragg'd into the house, and there
Lash'd without mercy.
San. How, a freeman lash'd!
^SCH. Ev'n so.
San. O monstrous tyranny ! Is this,
Is this the liberty they boast of here,
Common to all ?
^SCH. If you have brawl'd enough,
Please to indulge me with one word, you pimp.
San. Who has brawl'd most, yourself or I ?
iEscH. Well, well!
No more of that, but to the point !
San. What point?
What would you have?
iEscii. Will you allaw me then
To speak of what concerns you ?
San. Willingly:
Speak, but in justice.
iEsCH. Very fine ! a pimp.
And talks of justice !
San. Well, I am a pimp ;
The common bane of youth, a perjurer,
A public nuisance, I confess it : yet
I never did you Avrong.
^SCH. No, that's to come.
San. Prithee return to whence you first set out. Sir !
.^SCH. You, plague upon you for it ! bought the girl
For twenty mina; ; which sum we will give you.
San. What if I do not choose to sell the girl?
Will voii oblige me ?
Sc. in.] THE BROTHERS. 501
^SCH. No.
San. I fear'd you would,
JEscH. She's a free-woman, and should not be sold,
And, as such, by due course of law I claim her.
Now then consider which you like the best,
To take the money, or maintain your action.
Think on this, Pimp, till I come back again. {Exit.
Scene IL
Sannio alone.
Oh Jupiter! I do not wonder now
That men run mad with injuries. He drags me
Out of my own house ; cudgels me most soundly ;
And carries oif my slave against my will :
And after this ill-treatment, he demands
The Music-Girl to be made over to him
At the same price I bought her. — He has pour'd
His blows upon me, thick as hail; for which,
Since he deserves so nobly at my hands,
He should no doubt be gratified. — Nay, nay,
Let me but touch the cash, I'm still content.
But this I guess will be the case : as soon
As I shall have agreed to take his price,
He'll produce witnesses immediately.
To prove that I have sold her — And the money
Will be mere moonshine. — " By-and-by." — " To-mon*ow."
— Yet I could bear that too, although much wrong.
Might I but get tlie money after all :
For thus it is, friend Sannio ; when a man
• Has taken up this trade, he must receive,
And pocket the affronts of young gallants.
— But nobody will pay me, and I draw
Conclusions to no purpose.
Scene III.
Enter Syrus.
Syrus (to ^scii. within). Say no more !
Let me alone to talk with him ! I warrant
I'll make him take the money; aye, and own
That he's well treated too. {Coming fomoard.')
Why how now, Sannio?
What's the dispute I overheard just now
'Twixt you and my young master?
San. Never was
Any dispute conducted more unfairly.
Than that between us two to-day ! Poor I
With being drubb'd, and he with drubbing me,
'Till v/e were both quite weary.
502 THE BROTHERS. [Act H.
Strus. All your fault.
San. What could I do ?
Syrus. Give a young man his way.
San. What could I give him more, who gave my face ?
Syrus. Nay, but d'ye know ray meaning, Sannio ?
To seem upon occasion to slight money.
Proves in the end, sometimes, the greatest gain.
Why prithee, blockhead, could you be afraid,
Had you abated somewhat of your right,
And humor'd the young gentleman, he would not
Have paid you back again with interest ?
San. I never purchase hope with ready money.
Syrus. Away ! you'll never thrive. You do not know
How to ensnare men, Sannio.
San. Well, perhaps,
Your way were best : yet I was ne'er so crafty
But I had rather, when 'twas in my power, •
Receive prompt payment.
Syrus. Pshaw ! I know your spirit :
As if you valued twenty minaj now.
So you might do a kindness to my master !
— ^Besides, they say you're setting out for Cyprus. {Carelessly.)
San. Ha! {Alarmed.)
Syrus. — And have bought up a large stock of goods
To carry over thither. Hir'd a vessel.
That 'tis, I know, which keeps you in suspense :
When you return, I hope, you'll settle this.
San. I shall not budge a foot. Undone by Heav'n !
Urg'd by these hopes they've undertaken this. {Aside.)
Syrus. He fears. I've thrown a small rub in his way.
{Aside.)
San. {to hiinself). Confusion ! they have nick'd me to *
hair !
I've bought up sev'ral slaves, and other wares,
Eor exportation ; and to miss my time
At Cyprus-fair would be a heavy loss.
Then if I leave this business broken thus,
All's over with me ; and at my return
'Twill come to nothing, grown quite cold and stale.
" What! come at last?— Why did you stay so long?
Where have you been?"— that it were better lose it,
Than wait for it so long, or sue for't then.
Syrus {coming vp to him). Well, have you calculated what's
your due ?
San. Monstrous oppression! Is this honorable,
Or just in ^schinus, to take away
My property by force ?
Syrus. So, so! he comes. {Aside.)
— I have but one word more to say to you.
See how you like it. — Rather, Sannio,
Than run the risk to get or lose the whole,
Sc. IV.] THE BllOTHEKS. 503
E'en halve the matter: and he shall contrive
To scrape together by some means ten minae.
S.^. Alas, alas! am I in danger then
Of losing ev'n my very principal?
Shame on him ! he has loosen'd all my teeth :
My head is swell'd all over like a mushroom :
And will he cheat me too ? — I'm going nowhere.
Syrus. Just as you please. — Have you aught else to say
Before I go?
San. Yes, one word, prithee Syrus!
However things have happen'd, rather than
I should be driven to commence a suit,
Let him return me my bare due at least ;
The sum she cost me, Syrus. — I'm convinc'd
You've had no tokens of my friendship yet ;
But you shall find I will not be ungrateful.
Syrus. I'll do my best. But I see Ctesipho.
He is rejoic'd about his mistress.
San. Say,
Will you remember me ?
Syrus. Hold, hold a little! (Syrus and Sannio retire.')
SCENK IV.
Enter Ctesipiio at another part of the statje.
Ctes. Favors are M-elcome in the hour of need
Erom any hand ; but doubly welcome when
Conferr'd by those from whom we most expect them.
O brother, brother, how shall I applaud thee?
Ne'er can I rise to such a height of praise
But your deservings will outtop me still :
For in this point I am supremely bless'd, .
That none can boast so excellent a brother,
So rich in all good qualities, as I.
Syrus (coming forward). O Ctesipho !
Ctes. {turning round). O Syrus! where's my brother?
Syrus. At home, where he expects you.
Ctes. Ha! (Joyfidly.)
Syrus. What now!
Ctes. What now? — By his assistance I live, Syrus.
Ah, he's a friend indeed! who disregarding
All his own interests for my advantage,
The scandal, infamy, intrigue, and blame.
All due to me, has drawn upon himself!
What could exceed it ?— But who's there ? — The door
Creaks on the hinges. (Offering to go off.)
Syrus. Hold ! 'tis ^schinus.
504 THE BROTHERS. [Act II., Sc. V.
Scene V.
Enter .^sciiinds.
JEscH. Where is that rascal?
San, (behind). He inquires for me.
Has he brought out the cash with him ? — Confusion !
I see none.
JEscii. (to Ctesipho). Ha! well met: I long'd to see you.
How is it, Ctesipho? All's safe. Away
With melancholy !
Ctes. Melancholy! 1
Be melancholy, who have such a brother?
Oh my dear ^schinus! thou best of brothers,
— Ah, I'm asham'd to pi'aise you to your face,
Lest it appear to come from flattery.
Rather than gratitude.
-S^scii. Away, you fool !
As if we did not know each other, Ctesipho.
It only grieves me, we so lately knew this,
When things were almost come to such a pass,
That all the world, had they dcsir'd to do it.
Could not assist you.
Ctes. 'Twas my modesty.
JEscii. Pshaw! it was folly, and not modesty.
Eor such a trifle, almost fly your country?
Heaven forbid it! — fie, fie, Ctesipho!
Ctes. I've been to blame.
-^scii. Well, what says Sannio?
Syrus. He's pacified at last.
^SCH. I'll to the Forum,
And pay him off. — You, Ctesipho, go in
To the poor girl.
San. Now urge the matter, Syrus ! (Apart to Syrus.)
Syrus. Let's go; for Sannio wants to be at Cyprus.
San. Not in such haste: though truly I have no cause
To loiter here.
Syrus. You shall be paid : ne'er fear !
San. But all?
Syrus. Yes, all: so hold your tongue, and follow!
San. I will. (Exit after tEsciiinus — Syrus going.
Ctes. Hist! hark ye, Syi'us!
Syrus {turning hack). Well, what now ?
Ctes. For Heaven's sake discharge that scurvy fellow
Immediately ; for fear, if further urg'd,
This tale should reach my father's ears: and th«n
I am undone forever.
Syrus. It sha'n't be.
Be of good courage! meanwhile, get you in,
And entertain yourself with her ; and order
Act III., Sc. II.] THE BROTHERS. 505
The couches to be spread, and all prepar'd.
For, these preliminaries once dispatch'd, «
I shall march homeward with provisions.
Ctes. Do!
And since this business has turn'd out so well,
Ltt's spend the day in mirth and jollity !
(Exetmt severally.
ACT THE THIRD.
Scene I.
SOSTRATA, CaNTHAEA.
Sos. Prithee, good nurse, how will it go with her?
Can. How go with her ? Why well, I warrant you.
Sos. Her pains begin to come upon her, nurse.
Can. You're as much frighten'd at your time of day,
As if you ne'er was present at a labor,
Or never had been brought to bed yourself.
Sos. Alas, I've no soul here : we're all alone.
Geta is absent; nor is there a creature
To fetch a midwife, or call ^Eschinus.
Can. He'll be here presently, I promise you :
For he, good man, ne'er lets a single day
Go by, but he is sure to visit us.
Sos. He is my only comfort in my sorrows.
Can. Troth, as the case stands, madam, circumstances
Could not have happen'd better than they have :
And since your daughter sufFer'd violence,
'Twas well she met with such a man as this ;
A man of honor, rank, and family.
Sos. He is, indeed, a worthy gentleman :
The gods preserve him to us !
Scene II.
£nter Geta hastily at another part of the stage.
Geta. "We are now
So absolutely lost, that all the world
Joining in consultation to apply
Relief to the misfortune that has fallen
On me, my mistress, and her daughter, all
Would not avail. Ah me ! so many troubles
Environ us at once, we sink beneath them.
Rape, poverty, oppression, solitude.
And infamy ! oh, what an age is this !
O wicked, oh vile race I — oh impious man !
y
606 THE BEOTHEKS. [Act III.
Sos. (to Canthara). Ah, why should Geta seem thus ter-
rifie^
And agitated?
Geta (to hiviself). Wretch ! whom neither honor,
Nor oaths, nor pity could control or move!
Nor her approaching labor; her, on whom
He shamefully committed violation !
Sos. I don't well understand him.
Can. Prithee then
Let us draw nearer, Sostrata!
Geta (to himself). Alas,
I'm scarcely in my perfect mind, I burn
With such fierce anger. — Oh, that I had all
That villain-family before me now,
That I might vent my indignation on them.
While yet it boils within me. — There is nothing
I'd not endure to be reveng'd on them.
First I'd tread out the stinking snufl' his father,
Who gave the monster being. — And then, Syrus,
Who urg'd him to it, — how I'd tear him ! — First
I'd seize him round the waist, and lift him high,
Then dash his head against the ground, and strew
The pavement with his brains. — For ^schinus,
I'd tear his eyes out, and then tumble him.
Head foremost down some precipice. — The rest
I'd rush on, drag, crush, trample under foot.
But why do I delay to tell my mistress
This heavy news as soon as possible ! (Going.')
Sos. Let's call him back. Ho, Geta !
Geta. Whosoe'er
You are, excuse me.
Sos. I am Sostrata.
Geta. Where, where is Sostrata? (Turns ahout.) I sought
you, Madam ;
Impatiently I sought you : and am glad
To have encounter'd you thus readily.
Sos. What is the matter? Avhy d'ye tremble thus?
Geta. Alas !
Sos. Take breath! — But why thus mov'd, good Geta^
Geta. We're quite
Sos. Quite what?
Geta. Undone: We're ruin'd, Madam.
Sos. Explain, for Heaven's sake ! _
Geta. Ev'n now ""
Sos. What now?
Geta. -ZEschinus
Sos. What of ^schinus ?
Geta. Has quite
Estrang'd himself from all our family.
Sos. How's that ? confusion ! why ?
Geta. He loves another.
J
Sc. II.] THE BROTHERS. 507
Sos. Wretch that I am!
Geta. Nor that clandestinely ;
But snatch'd her in the face of all the world
From a procm-er.
Sos. Are you sure of this ?
Geta. Sure ? With these very eyes I saw it, Madam.
Sos. Alas, alas ! What then can we believe ?
To whom give credit ? — What ? our ^schinus !
Our very life, our sole support and hope ! •
Who swore he could not live one day without her,
And promis'd he would place the new-born babe
Upon his father's lap, and in that way
"Wring from him his consent to marry her I
Geta. Nay, weep not, mistress; but consider rathet
What course were best to follow : to conceal
This wrong, or to disclose it to some friend?
Can. Disclose it ! Are you mad ? Is this a thing
To be disclos'd, d'ye think ?
Geta. I'd not advise it.
For first, that he has quite abandon'd us.
The thing itself declares. If we then make
The story known, no doubt but he'll deny it.
Your reputation, and your daughter's life
Will be endanger'd : or if he confess.
Since he affects another, 'twere not good
That he should wed your daughter. — For which reasons,
Silence is requisite.
Sos. Ah, no : not I.
Geta. What mean you?
Sos. To disclose the whole.
Geta. How, Madam!
Think what you are about.
Sos. Whatever happens.
The thing can't be in a worse state than now.
In the first place my daughter has no portion,
And that which should have been her second dowry
Is also lost; and she can ne'er be giv'n
In marriage as a virgin. For the rest.
If he denies his mrmer commerce with her,
I have the ring he lost to vouch the fact.
In short, since I am conscious to myself,
That I am not to blame in this proceeding.
And that no sordid love of gain, nor aught
Unworthy of my daughter or myself.
Has mix'd in this affair, I'll try it, Geta.
Geta. Well, I agree, 'twere better to disclose it.
Sos. You then away, as fast as possible,
And run to Hegio our good friend and kinsman,
To let him know the whole affair : for he
Was the chief friend of my dear Simulus,
And ever sliow'd a great regard for us.
50B THE BROTHERS. [Act HI.
Geta. And well he does, for no one else cares for us.
Sos. And you, good Canthara, away with haste.
And call a midwife ; that we may be sure
Of her assistance in the time of need, {Exeunt severally.
Scene III.
Enter Demea.
•
Dem. Confusion! I have heard that Ctesipho
Was present with his brother at this riot.
This is the sum of all my miseries,
If he, even he, a sober, hopeful lad,
May be seduc'd into debaucheries.
— ^But where shall I inquire for him ? I warrant
They have decoy 'd him into some vile brothel.
That profligate persuaded him, I'm sure.
— But here comes Syrus ; he can tell me all.
And yet this slave is of the gang ; and if
He once perceives that I'm inquiring for him,
He'll never tell me any thing; a rogue!
I'll not discover my design.
Scene IV.
Enter Syrus at another jmrt of the stage,
Syrus (to himself). We've just
Disclos'd the whole of this affair to Micio,
Exactly as it happen'd. I ne'er saw
The good old gentleman more pleas'd.
Dem. Oh Heav'n,
The folly of the man ! (Listening.)
Syrus (to himself). He prais'd his son ;
Me, who concerted the whole scheme, he thank'd.
Dem. I burst with rage. (Listening.)
Syrus (to himself). He told the money down
Immediately, and threw us in beside,
To make an entertainment, a half-myia :
Which I've laid out according to my liking.
Dem. So ! if you'd have your business Avell ta'en care of.
Commit it to this fellow !
Syrus (overhearing). Who's there? Demea!
I did not see you, Sir. How goes it?
Dem. How ?
I can't sufficiently admire your conduct.
Syrus (negligently). Silly enough, to say the truth, and idle.
(To servants within^. Cleanse you the rest of those fish,
Dromo : let
That large eel play a little in the water.
When I return it shall be bon'd ; till then.
It must not be.
I
Sc. IV.] THE BROTHERS. 509
Dem. Are crimes like these
Syrus {to Demea). Indeed
I like them not, and oft cry shame upon them.
— (To servants loithin). See that those salt fish are well soak'd,
Stephanio.
Dem, Gods ! is this done on purpose ? Does he think
'Tis laudable to spoil his son ? Alas !
I think I see the day when ^schinus
Shall fly for want, and list himself a soldier.
Syrus. O Demea! that is to be wise: to see,
Not that alone which lies before your feet,
But ev'n to pry into futurity.
Dem. What! is the Music-Girl at your house?
Syrus. Aye,
Madam's within.
Dem. What! and is ^schinus
To keep her at home with him?
Syrus. I believe so ;
Such is their madness.
Dem. Is it possible ?
Syrus. A fond and foolish father ! *
Dem. I'm asham'd
To own my brother. I'm griev'd for him.
Syrus. Ah !
There is a deal of diffrence, Demea,
— Nor is't because you're present that I say this
There is a mighty difference between you !
You are, from top to toe, all over wisdom :
He a mere dotard. — Would you e'er permit
Your boy to do such things ?
Dem. Permit him? 1?
Or should I not much rather smell him out
Six months before he did but dream of it?
Syrus. Pshaw ! do you boast your vigilance to me ?
Dem. Heav'n keep him ever as he is at present !
Syrus. As fathers from their children, so they prove.
Dem. But now we're speaking of him, have you seen
The lad to-day ? ( With an affected carelessness.)
Syrus. Your son d'ye mean? — I'll drive him
Into the country. (Aside.) — He is hard at work
Upon your grounds by this time. (To Demea.)
Dem. Are you sure on't?
Syrus. Sure? I set out with him myself.
Dem. Good ! good !
I was afraid he loiter'd here. (Aside.)
Syrus. And much
Enrag'd, I promise you.
Dem. On what account?
Syrus. A quarrel with his brother at the Forum,
About the Music-Girl.
Dem. Indeed ?
510 THE BROTHERS. [Act HI.
Syrus. Aye, faith :
He did not mince the matter : he spoke out ;
For as the cash was telling down, in pops.
All unexpected, Master Ctesipho :
Cries out — " Oh ^schinus, are these your courses ?
Do you commit these crimes ? and do you bring
Such a disgrace upon our family ?"
Dem. Oh, oh, I weep for joy.
Syrus. " You squander not
The money only, but your life, your honor."
Dem. Heav'n bless him; he is like his ancestors. (Weepivf/.)
Sy'RDS. Father's own son, I warrant him.
Dem. Oh, Syrus !
He's full of all those [jrcccpts, he !
Syrus. No doubt on't :
He need not go from home for good instruction.
Dem. I spare no pains ; neglect no means ; I train him.
— In short, I bid him look into the lives
Of all, as in a mirror, and thence draw
From others an example for himself.
-"Do this.^
Syrus.* Good !
Dem. " Fly that."
Syrus. Veiy good !
Dem. "This deed
Is commendable."
Syrus. That's the thing !
Dem. "That's reprehensible."
Syrus. Most excellent !
Dem. " And then moreover "
Syrus. Faith, I have not time
To give you further audience just at present,
I've got an admirable dish of fish ;
And I must take good care they are not spoil'd.
For that were an offense as grievous, Demea,
In us, as 'twere in you to leave undone
The things you just now mentioned : and I try,
According to my weak abilities,
To teach my fellow- slaves the self-same Avay.
— " This is too salt. — This is burnt up too much.
That is not nice and cleanly. — That's well done.
Mind, and do so again." — I spare no pains,
And give them the best precepts that I can.
In short, I bid thena look into the dishes.
As in a mirror, Demea, and thence learn
The duty of a cook. — This school of ours,
I own, is idle: but what can you do?
According to the man must be the lesson.
— Would you aught else with us?
Dem. Your reformation.
Syrus. Do you go hence into the country?
I
So. vi.j thp: brothers. 511
Dem. Straight.
Syrus. For what should you do here, where nobody,
However good your precepts, cares to mind them? \Exit.
Scene V.
Demea alone.
I then will hence, since he, on whose account
I hither came, is gone into the country.
He is my only care, /Ze's my concern.
My brother, since he needs will have Wt so,
May look to iEschinus himself. But who
Is coming yonder? Hcgio, of our tribe?
If I see plainly, beyond doubt 'tis he.
Ah, we've been old acquaintance quite from boys ;
And such men nowadays are wondrous scarce.
A citizen of ancient faith and virtue !
The commonwealth will ne'er reap harm from him.
How I rejoice to see but the remains
Of this old stock ! Ah, life's a pleasure now.
I'll wait, that I may ask about his health.
And have a little conversation with liim.
Scene VI.
Enter Heg:o, Geta conversing at a distance.
Hegio. Good Heaven ! a most unworthy action, Geta !
Geta. Ev'n so.
Hegio. A deed so base
Sprung from that family? — Oh ^schinus,
I'm sure tins was not acting like your father.
Dem. {behind). So! he has heard about this Music-Girl,
And is affected at it, though a stranger.
While his good father truly thinks it nothing.
Oh monstrous ! would that he were somewhere nigh,
And heai'd all this!
Hegio. Unless they do wliat's just.
They shall not carry off the matter thus.
Geta. Our only hope is in you, Hegio.
You're our sole friend, our guardian, and our father,
The good old Simulus, on his death-bed
Bequeath'd us to your care. If you desert us,
We are undone indeed.
Hegio. Ah, name it not!
I will not, and with honesty, I can not.
Dem. I'll go up to him. — Save you, Hegio!
Hegio. The man I look'd for. — Save you, Demea!
Dem. Your pleasure !
Hegio. -^schinus, your elder son,
Adopted by your brother, has committed
512 THE BROTHERS. [Act HI., Sc. VI.
A deed unworthy of an honest man,
And of a gentleman.
Dem. How so?
Hegio. You knew
Our friend and good acquaintance, Simulus?
Dem. Aye, sure.
Hegio. He has dcbauch'd his daughter.
Dem. How!
Hegio. Hold, Demea, for the worst is still to come.
Dem. Is there aught worse ?
Hegio. Much worse : for this perhaps
Might be excus'd. The night, love, wine, and youth,
Might prompt him. 'Tis the frailty of our nature.
Soon as his sense returning made him conscious
Of his rash outrage, of his own accord
He came to the girl's mother, weeping, praying,
Entreating, vowing constancy, and swearing
That he would take her home. — He was forgiven;
The thing conceal'd ; and his vows credited.
The girl from that encounter prov'd with child;
This is the tenth month. — He, good gentlemsii!,
Has got a music-girl, Heav'n bless the mark!
With whom he means to live, and quit the other.
Dem. And are you well assur'd of this?
Hegio. The mother.
The girl, the fact itself, arc all before you.
Joining to vouch the truth on't. And besides.
This Geta here — as servants go, no bad one,
Nor given up to idleness — maintains them ;
The sole suppoi-t of all the family.
Here take him, bind him, force the truth from him.
Geta. Aye, torture me, if 'tis not so, good Demea !
Nay, ^schinus, I'm sure, will not deny it.
Bring me before him.
Dem. (aside). I'm asham'd : and what
To do, or what to say to him, I know not.
Pampiiila (within). Ah me ! I'm torn in pieces ! Racking
pains !
Juno Lucina, help me ! save, I pray thee !
Hegio. Ha! Is she then in labor, Getat
Geta. Yes, Sir.
Hegio. Hark ! she now calls upon your justice, Demea !
Grant her then freely, what law else will claim.
And Heaven send, that you may rather do
What honor bids ! but if you mean it not,
Be sure of this ; that with my utmost force
I'll vindicate the girl, and her dead father;
He was my kinsman; we were bred together
From children ; and our fortunes twin'd together
In wai', and peace, and bitter poverty.
Wherefore I'll try, endeavor, strive, nay lose
I
Act IV., Sc. I.J THE BROTHERS. 513
My life itself, before I will forsake them.
— What is your answer?
Dem. I'll find out my brother:
What he advises, I will follow, Hegio.
Hegio. But still remember, Demea, that the more
You live at ease ; the more your pow'r, your wealth,
Your riches, and nobility; the more
It is your duty to act honorably.
If you regard the name of honest men.
Dem. Go to: Ave'll do you justice.
Hegio. 'Twill become you.
Geta, conduct me in to Sostrata. {Exit with Geta.
Scene VII.
Demea alone.
This is no more than I foretold : and well
If his intemp'rance would stop here! — But this
Immoderate indulgence must produce
Some terrible misfortune in the end.
— I'll hence, find out my brother, tell my news,
And empty all my indignation on him. {Exit.
Scene VIII.
Re-enter Hegio, speahhig to Sostrata at the door.
Be of good cheer, my Sostrata; and comfort.
As much as in your pow'r, poor Pamphila!
I'll find out Micio, if he's at the Forum,
And tell him the whole story : if he'll act
With honor in it, why 'tis well; if not.
Let him but speak his Tuind to me, and then
I shall know how to act accordingly. {Exit.
ACT THE FOURTH.
Scene I.
Ctesipho, Syrus.
Ctes. My father gone into the country, say you?
Syrus. Long since.. W
Ctes. Nay ; speak the truth !
Syrus. He's at his farm.
And hard at work, I warrant you.
Ctes. I wish,
Y2
514 THE BROTHERS. [Act IV.
So that his health were not the vvorse for it,
He might so heartily fatigue himself,
As to be fore'd to keep his bed these three days I
Syrus. I wish so too ; and more, if possible.
Ctes. With all my heart : for I would fain consume,
As I've begun, the livelong day in pleasure.
Nor do I hate that farm of ours so much
For any thing, as that it is so near.
For if 'twas at a greater distance, night
"Would come upon him ere he could return.
But now, not finding me, I'm very sure
He'll hobble back again immediately;
Question me where I've been, that I've not seen him
All the day long ; and what shall I reply ?
Syrus. What? can you think of nothing?
Ctes. No, not I.
Syrus. So much the worse. — Have you no client, friend,
Or guest?
Ctes. I have. What then?
Syrus. You've been engag'd
With them.
Ctes. When not engag'd? It can not be.
Syrus. It may.
Ctes. Aye, marry, for the day I grant you.
But if I pass the night here, what excuse
Then, Syrus?
Syrus. Ah ! I would it were the custom
To be engag'd at night too with one's friends!
— But be at ease ! I know his mind so well,
That when he raves the loudest, I can make him
As gentle as a lamb.
Ctes. How so?
Syrus. He loves
To hear you prais'd. I sing your praises to him.
And make you out a little God.
Ctes. Me!
Syrus. You.
And then the old man blubbers like a child.
For very joy. — But have a care ! (^Looking out.)
Ctes. What now?
Syrus. The wolf i' th' fable!
Ctes. What, my father?
Syrus. He.
Ctes. What's the best, Syrus?
Syrus. In! fly! I'll take care.
Ctes. You have not seen m^if he asks: d'ye hear?
Steus. Can't you be quiet ? ^Pushes out Ctesipho.)
%
Sc. II.] THE BROTHERS. 515
Scene II.
Enter Demea at another part of the stage.
Dem. Verily I am
A most unhappy man ! for first of all,
I can not find my brother any where :
And then besides, in looking after him,
I chanc'd on one of my day laborers.
Who had but newly left my farm, and told me
Ctesipho was not there. What shall I do?
Ctes. (jteeping out). Syrus? '
Strus. What?
Ctes. Does he seek me?
Syrus. Yes.
Ctes. Undone!
Syrus. Courage!
Dem. (to himself). Plague on it, what ill luck is this'.
I can't account for it: but I believe
That I was born for nothing but misfortunes.
I am the first who feels our woes ; the first
Who knows of them ; the first who tells the news :
And come what may, I bear the weight alone.
Syrus (behind). Ridiculous ! he says he knows all first ;
And he alone is ignorant of all.
Dem, I'm now return'd to see if Micio
Be yet come home again.
Ctes. (peeping out). Take care, good Syrus,
He don't rush in upon us unawares !
Syrus. Peace ! I'll take care.
Ctes, 'Faith, I'll not trust to you,
But shut myself and her in some by-place
Together: that's the safest.
Syrus. Well, away! (Ctesipho disappears.)
I'll drive the old man hence, I warrant you.
Dem, (seeing ^Y-RXi?,). Butsee that rascal Syrus coming hither!
Syrus (advancing hastily, and pretending not to see Demea).
By Hercules, there is no living here,
For any one, at this rate, — I'd fain know
How many masters I'm to have. — Oh monstrous !
Dem. What does he howl for? what's the meaning on't?
Hark ye, my good Sir ! prithee tell me if
My brother be at home.
Syrus. My good Sir! Plague!
Why do you come with your good Sirs to me ?
I'm half-kill'd.
Dem, What's the matter?
Syrus. What's the matter!
Ctesipho, vengeance on him, fell upon me.
And cudgel'd me and the poor Music-Girl
Almost to death.
516 THE BROTHERS. [Act IV.
Dem. Indeed?
Syrus. Indeed. Nay see
How he has cut my lip. (^Pretending to sJioio it.)
Dem, On what account?
Syrus. The girl, he says, was bought by my advice.
Dem. Did not you say you saw him out of town
A little while ago?
Syrus. And so I did.
But he came back soon after, like a madman.
He had no mercy. — Was not he ashara'd *
To beat a poor old fellow ? to beat me ;
Who bore him in my arms but t'other day,
An urchin thus high? {Showing.}
Dem. Oh rare, Ctesipho !
Father's own son ! a man, I warrant him.
Syrus. Oh I'are, d'ye cry ? I' faith, if he is wise,
He'll hold his hands another time.
Dem. Oh bi-ave!
Syrus. Oh mighty brave, indeed! — Because he beat
A helpless girl, and me a wretched slave,
Who durst not strike again ; — oh, to be sure,
Mighty brave, truly !
1)em. Oh, most exquisite !
My Ctesipho perceived, as well as I,
That you Avas the contriver of this business.
— But is my brother here ?
Syrus. Not he. {Sulkily.)
Dem. I'm thinking
Where I shall seek him.
Syrus. I know where he is :
But I'll not tell.
Dem. How, Sirrah?
Syrus. Even so.
Dem. I'll break your head.
Syrus, I can not tell the name
Of him he's gone to, but I know the place.
Dem. Well, where's the place ?
Syrus. D'ye know the Portico
Just by the market, down this way ? (Pointing.)
Dem. I do.
Syrus. Go up that street ; keep straight along : and then
You'll see a hill ; go straight down that : and then
On this hand, there's a chapel ; and just by
A narrow lane. (Pointing.)
Dem. Where ? {Looking.)
Syrus, There ; by the great wild fig-tree.
D'ye know it. Sir ?
Dem. I do.
Syrus. Go through that lane.
Dem, That lane's no thoroughfare.
Syrus. Aye, very true :
Sc. IV.] THE BROTHERS. 517
No more it is, Sir.— What a fool I am !
I was mistaken — You must go quite back
Into the portico ; and after all,
This is the nearest and the safest way,
— D'ye j^now Cratinus' house ? the rich man ?
Dem. Aye.
Syrus. When you've pass'd that, turn short upon the left.
Keep straight along that street, and when you reach
Diana's Temple, turn upon the right.
And then, on this side of the city gate,
Just by the pond, there is a baker's^ shop,
And opposite a joiner's. — There he is.
Dem. What business has he there ?
Syrus. He has bespoke
Some tables to be made with oaken legs
To stand the sun.
Dem. For you to drink upon.
Oh brave ! But I lose time. I'll after him.
(^Exit liastiiy.
Scene III.
Syrus alone.
Aye, go your ways ! I'll work your old shrunk shanks
As you deserve, old Drybones ! — ^schinus
Loiters intolerably. Dinner's spoil'd.
Ctesipho thinks of nothing but his girl.
'Tis time for me to look to myself too.
Faith, then I'll in immediately; pick out
All the tid-bits, and tossing off my cups,
In lazy leisure lengthen out the day. {Exit.
SCEXE IV.
Enter Micio and Hegio.
Micio. I can sec nothing in this matter, Hegio,
Wherein I merit so much commendation.
'Tis but my duty, to redress the wrongs
That we have caus'd : unless perhaps you took me
For one of those who, having injur'd you,
Term fair expostulation an affront ;
And having first offended, are the first
To turn accusers. — I've not acted thus:
And is't for this that I am thank'd?
Hegio. Ah, no ;
I never thought you other than you are.
But let me beg you, Micio, go with me
To the young woman's mother, and repeat
Yourself to her what you have just told me :
518 TinC BROTHERS. [Act IV.
— That tlie suspicion, fall'n on JEscliiniis,
Sprung from liis brother and the Music-Girl.
Micio. If you believe I ought, or think it needful,
Let's go !
Hegio. 'Tis very kind in you : for thus
You'll raise her spirit drooping with the load
Of grief and misery, and have perform'd
Ev'ry good office of benevolence.
But if you like it not, I'll go myself,
And tell her the whole story.
Micio. No, I'll go.
Hegio. 'Tis good and tender in your nature, Micio.
For they, whose fortunes are less prosperous,
Are all I know not how, the more suspicious ;
And think themselves neglected and contemn'd.
Because of their distress and poverty.
Wherefore I think 'twould satisfy them more
If you would clear up this affair yourself.
Micio. What you have said is just, and very true.
Hegio. Let me conduct you in !
Micio. With all my heart. {Exeunt.
Scene V.
iEsciiiNUS alone.
Oh torture to my mind ! that this misfortune
Should come thus unexpectedly upon me !
I know not what to do, which way to turn.
Fear shakes my limbs, amazement fills my soul,
And in my breast despair shuts out all counsel.
Ah, by what means can I acquit myself?
Such a suspicion is now fallen on me;
And that too grounded on appearances.
Sostrata thinks that on my own account
I bought the Music-Girl. That's plain enough .
From the old nurse. For meeting her by chance,
As phe was sent from hence to call a midwife,
I ran, and ask'd her of my Pamphila,
— "Is she in labor? are you going now
To call a midwife?" — "Go, go, jEschinus! .
Away, you have deceiv'd us long enough,
Fool'd us enough with your fine promises,"
Cried she. — "What now?" says I. — "Farewell, enjoy
The girl that you're so taken Avith !" — I saw
Immediately their cause of jealousy :
Yet I contain'd myself, nor would disclose
My brother's business to a tattling gossip,
By whom the knowledge on't might be betray'd.
— But what shall I do now ? shall I confess
The girl to be my brother's; an affair
Sc. VI.] THE BROTHERS. 519
Winch should by no means be reveal'd ? — But not
To dwell on that, — Perhaps they'd not disclose it.
Nay, I much doubt if they would credit it :
So many proofs concur against myself.
I bore her off: I paid the money down ;
She was brought home to me. — All this, I own,
Is my own fault. For should I not have told
My father, be it as it might, the whole?
I should, I doubt not, have obtain'd his leave
To marry Pamphila. — What indolence,
Ev'n, till this horn-! now, JEschinus, awake!
— But first I'll go and clear myself to them.
I'll to the door. {Goes vp.) Confusion! how I tremble!
How guilty like I seem when I approach
This house ! {Knocks.') Holloa ! within ! 'Tis I ;
'Tis JEschinus. Come, open somebody
The door immediately !— Who's here? A stranger!
I'll step aside. {Retires.)
SCKXE VI.
Enter Micio.
Micio {to SosTRATA, icithiu). Do as I have told you, Sostrata.
I'll find out iEschinus, and tell him all.
— But who knock'd at the door? {Coming forward.)
Mscu. {behind). By Heav'n, my father !
Confusion !
Micio {seeing Mm). iEschinus !
^scii. What does he here? {Aside.)
Micio. W^as't you that knock'd ? What, not a word ! Sup-
pose
I banter him a little. He deserves it.
For never trusting this affair to me. {Aside.)
— ^Why don't you speak?
JEscH. Not I, as I remember. {Disordered.)
Micio. No, I dare say, not you: for I was wond'ring
What business could have brought you here. — He blushes.
All's safe, I find. {Aside.)
JEscii. {recovering.) But prithee, tell me. Sir,
What brought you here ?
Micio. No business of my own.
But a friend drew me hither from the Forum,
To be his advocate. ♦
-S^SCH. In what ?
Micio. I'll tell you.
This house is tenanted by some poor women.
Whom, I believe, you know not; — Nay, I'm sure on't,
For 'twas but lately they came over hither.
JEscH. Well?
Micio. A young woman and her mother.
520 THE BKOTHEKS. [Act IV.
.^scii. Well?
Micio. The father's dead. — This friend of mine, it seems,
Being her next relation, by the law
Is fore'd to marry her.
^SCH. Confusion ! {Aside.}
Micio. How ?
^SCH. Nothing. — Well? — pray go on, Sir! —
Micio. He's now come
To take her home, for he is of Miletus.
^SCH. How ! take her home with him ?
Micio. Yes, take her home.
jEscii. What, to Miletus?
Micio. Aye.
^SCH. Oh torture! (^sio^e.)— Well ?
What say the women ?
Micio. Why, what should they ? Nothing.
Indeed the mother has devis'd a tale
About her daughter's having had a child
By some one else, but never mentions whom :
His claim, she says, is prior; and my^friend
Ought not to have her.
iEscii. Well? and did not this
Seem a sufficient reason?
Micio. No.
^scH. No, Sir?
And shall this next relation take her off?
Micio. Aye, to be sure: why not?
JEscH. Oh barbarous, cruel !
And to speak plainly, Sir — ungenerous !
Micio. Why so?
^SCH. Why so, Sir?— What d'ye think
Will come of him, the poor unhappy youth
Who was connected with her first — who still
Loves her, perhaps, as dearly as his life; —
When he shall see her torn out of his arms,
And borne away forever? — Oh shame, shame!
Micio. Where is ' the shame on't ? — Who betroth'd, who
gave her ?
When was she married ? and to Avhom ? Where is he.
And wherefore did he wed another's right ?
^scn. Was it for her, a girl of such an age,
To sit at home, expecting till a kinsman .
Came, nobody knoAvs whence, to marry her?
— This, Sir, it yas your business to have said,
And to have dwelt on it,
Micio. Eidiculous !
Should I have pleaded against him to whom
I came an advocate ? — But after all.
What's this affair to us? or, what have we
To do with them ? let's go ! — Ha ! why those tears ?
^aEscH. Father, beseech you, hear me !
Sc. VI.] THE BROTHERS. 521
Micio. iEscliiuus,
I have heard all, and I know all, already :
For I do love you; wherefore all your actions
Touch me the more.
^scir. So may you ever love me,
And so may I deserve your love, my father,
As I am sorry to have done this fault,
And am asham'd to see you !
Micio. I believe it ;
For well I know you have a liberal mind:
But I'm afraid you are too negligent,
For in what city do you think you live ?
You have abus'd a virgin, whom the law
Forbade your touching. — 'Twas a fault, a great one;
But yet a natural failing. Many others.
Some not bad men, have often done the same.
— But after this event, can you pretend
You took the least precaution? or consider'd
What should be done, or how ? — If shame forbade
Your telling me yourself, you should have found
Some other means to let me know of it.
Lost in these doubts, ten months have slipp'd away.
You have betray'd, as far as in you lay.
Yourself, the poor young woman, and your child.
What ! did you think the Gods would bring about
This business in your sleep ; and that your wife,
Without your stir, would be convey'd to you
Into your bed-chamber? — I would not have you
Thus negligent in other matters. Come,
Cheer up, son ! you shall wed hei*.
JEscH. Plow!
Micio. Cheer up,
I say!
^scH. Nay, prithee,, do not mock me, father !
Micro. Mock you ? I ? wherefore ?
-^scii. I don't know ; unless
That I so much desire it may be true,
I therefore fear it more.
Micio. Away; go home;
And pray the Gods, that you may call your wife.
Away!
JEscH. How's that? ray wife? what! now?
Micio. Now.
^scH. Now?
Micio. Ev'n now, as soon as possible.
^scH. May all
The Gods desert me. Sir, but I do love you,
More than my eyes ?
Micio. Than her?
-^scH. As well.
Micio. That's much.
522 THE BROTHERS. [Act IV.
^SCH. But where is that Milesian ?
Micio. Gone :
Vanish'd: on board the ship. — But why d'ye loiter?
-^SCH, Ah, Sir, you rather go, and pray the Gods ;
For, being a mucli better man than I,
They will the sooner hear your pray'rs.
Micio. I'll in.
To see the needful preparations made.
You, if you're wise, do as I said. {Exit.
Scene VII.
yEsciiixus alone.
How's this ?
Is this to be a father? Or is this
To be a son ? — Were he my friend or brother,
Could he be more complacent to my wish ?
Should I not love him ? bear him in my bosom !
Ah ! his great kindness has so wrought upon me,
That it shall be the study of my life
To shun .all follies, lest they give him pain.
— But I'll in straight, that I may not retard
My marriage by my own delay. {Exit.
Scene VIII.
Demea alone.
I'm tir'd
With walking. — Now great Jove confound you, Syrus ;
You and your blind directions ! I have crawl'd
All the town over : to the gate ; the pond ;
Where not ? No sign of any shop was there.
Nor any person Avho had seen my brother.
— Now I'll in, therefore, and set up my rest
In his own house, till he comes home again. {Going.
Scene IX.
Enter Micio.
Micio. I'll go and let the women know we're ready.
Dem. But here he is. — I have long sought you, Micio.
Micio. What now?
Dem. I bring you more offenses : great ones ;
Of that sweet youth
Micio. See there!
Dem. New ; capital !
Micio. Nay, nay, no more !
Dem. Ah, you don't know
Micio. I do.
Sc. IX.] THE BROTHERS. 523
Dem. O fool, yon think I mean the Music-Girl.
This is a rape upon a citizen.
Micio. I know it.
Dem. H6w ? d'ye know it, and endure it ?
Micio. Why not endure it ?
Dem. Tell me, don't you rave ?
Don't you go mad ? '
Micio. No : to be sure I'd rather
Dem. There's a child born.
Micio. Ileav'n bless it !
Dem. And the girl
Has nothing.
Micio. I have heard so.
Dem. And is he
To marry her without a fortune ?
Micio. Aye.
Dem. What's to be done then?
Micio. What the case requires.
The girl shall be brought over here.
Dem. Oh Jove !
Can that be proper?
Micio. What can I do else ?
Dem. What can you do ! — If you're not really gi-iev'd,
It were at least your duty to appear so.
Micio. I have contracted the young woman to him :
The thing is settled : 'tis their wedding-day :
, And all their apprehensions I've remov'd.
This is still more my duty.
Dem. Are you pleas'd then
With this adventure, Micio? '
Micio. Not at all,
If I could help it : now 'tis past all cure,
I bear it patiently. The life of man
Is like a game at tables. If the cast
Which is most necessary be not thrown,
That which chance sends you must correct by art.
Dem. Oh rare Corrector ! — By your art no less
Than twenty minte have been thrown away
On yonder Music-wench ; who out of hand,
Must be sent packing ; if no buyer, gratis.
Micio. Not in the least ; nor do I mean to sell her.
Dem. What will you do, then?
Micio. Keep her in my house.
Dem. Oh Heav'n and earth ! a harlot and a wife
In the same house !
Micio. Why not ?
Dem. Have you your wits ?
Micio. Truly I think so.
Dem. Now, so help me Heav'n,
Seeing your folly, I believe you keep her
To sing with you.
524 THE BROTHERS. [Act IV.
jMicio. Why not ?
Dem. And the young bride
Shall be her pupil ?
Micio. To be sure.
Dem. And you
Dance hand in hand Avith them ?
Micio. Aye.
Dem. Aye?
Micio. And you
Make one among us too upon occasion.
Dem. Ah ! are you not asham'd on't ?
Micio. Patience, Demea !
Iiay by your wrath, and seem, as it becomes you,
Cheerful and fi-ee of heart at your son's wedding.
— I'll but speak with the bride and Sostrata,
And then return to you immediately. {Exit.
Scene X.
Demea alone.
Jove, what a life ! what manners ! what distraction !
A bride just coming home without a portion ;
A Music-Girl already there in keeping:
A house of waste ; the youth a libertine ;
Th' old man a dotard ! — 'Tis not in the poAv'r
Of Providence herself, howe'cr desirous,
To save from ruin such a family.
Scene XI.
Enter at a distance SYPars, (lriml\
Syrus (to Jdmself). Faith, little Syrus, you've ta'en special
care
Of your sweet self, and play'd your part most rarely.
— ^Well, go your ways : — but having had my fill
Of ev'ry thing within, I've now march'd forth
To take a turn or two abroad.
Dem. (behind). Look there!
A pattern of instruction !
Syrus (seeing him). But see thei'e :
Yonder's old Demea. (Going tip to him.) What's the matter now?
And why so melancholy?
Dem. Oh thou villain!
Syrus. What! are you spouting sentences, old wisdom?
Dem. Were you my servant
Syrus. You'd be plaguy rich,
And settle your affairs most wonderfully.
Dem. I'd make you an example.
Syrus. Wliv? for what?
So. XIV.] THE BliOTllEKS. 525
Dem. Why, Sirrah? — In the midst of the disturbance,
And in the heat of a most heavy crime.
While all is yet confusion, you've got drunk,
As if for joy, you rascal !
Syrus. Why the plague
Did not I keep within? (Aside.)
Scene XU.
Enter Dkomo, hastily/.
Dromo. Here ! hark ye, Syrus !
Ctesipho begs that you'd come back.
Syrus. Away! {Pushes hirn off".)
Dem. What's this he says of Ctesipho?
Syrus. Pshaw! nothing.
Dem. How! dog, is Ctesipho within?
Syrus. Not he.
Dem. Why does he name him then?
Syrus. It is another.
Of the same name — a little parasite —
D'ye know him?
Dem. But I will immediately. (Going.)
Syrus (stopping him). What now? where now?
Dem. Let me alone. } c*^ 7.
Syrus. Don't go! \ Struggling.
Dem. Hands off! what won't you? must I brain you, rascal?
(Disengages himself from Syrus, and Exit.
Scene XHI.
Syrus alone.
He's gone — gone in — and faith no welcome roarer —
— Especially to Ctesipho. — But what
Can I do now; unless, till this blows over,
I sneak into some coi'ner, and sleep off
This wine that lies upon my head? — I'll do't.
(Exit reeling.
Scene XIV.
Enter Micio/rom Sostrata.
Micio (to Sostrata ivithin).
All is prepar'd ;. and we are ready, Sostrata,
As I have already told you, when you please. (Comes forward.)
But who's this forces open our street door
With so much violence?
Enter Demea on f other side.
Dem. Confusion! death!
526 THE BROTHERS. [Act IV.
What shall I do? or how resolve? where vent
My cries and exclamations ? Heav'n ! Earth ! Sea !
Micio (behind). So ! all's discover'd : that's the thing he raves
at.
— Now for a quarrel! — I must help the boy.
Dem. {seeing him). Oh, there's the grand corrupter of our
children !
Micio. Appease your wrath, and be yourself again !
Dem. Well, I've appeas'd it ; I'm myself again ;
I spare reproaches ; let us to the point !
It was agreed between us, and it was
Your own proposal too, that you should never
Concern yourself with Ctesipho, nor I
With ^schinus. Say, was't not so?
Micio. It was.
I don't deny it.
Deji. Why does Ctesipho
Revel with you then? Why do you receive him?
Buy him a mistress, Micio? — Is not justice
My due from you, as well as yours from me?
Since I do not concern myself with yours,
Meddle not you with mine !
Micio. This is not fair;
Indeed it is not. Think on tlie old saying,
"All things are common among friends."
Dem. How smart!
Put off with quips and sentences at last !
Micio. Nay, hear me, if you can have patience, Demea.
— First, if you're griev'd at their extravagance,
Let this reflection calm you! Formerly,
You bred them both according to your fortune,
Supposing it sufficient for them both :
Then too you thought that I should take a wife.
Still follow the old rule you then laid down:
Hoard, scrape, and save; do ev'ry thing you can
To leave them nobly ! Be that glory yours.
My fortune, fall'n beyond their hopes upon them,
Let them use freely ! As your capital
Will not be wasted, what addition comes
From mine, consider as clear gain: and thus,
Weighing all this impartially, you'll spare •
Yourself, and me, and them, a world of trouble.
Dem. Money is not the thing: their morals
Micio. Hold!
I understand; and meant to speak of that.
There are in nature sundry marks, good Demea,
By which you may conjecture easily.
That when two persons do the self-same thing,
It oftentimes falls out that in the one
'Tis criminal, in t'other 'tis not so:
Not that the thing itself is different,
Sc. XIV.] THE BROTHERS. 527
But he who does it. — In these youths I see
The marks of virtue ; and, I trust, they'll prove
Such as we wish them. They have sense, I know;
Attention; in its season, liberal shame;
And fondness for each other; all sure signs
Of an ingenuous mind and noble nature:
And though they stray, you may at any time
Reclaim them. — But perhaps you fear they'll prove
Too inattentive to their interest.
Oh my dear Demea, in all matters else
Increase of years increases wisdom in us :
This only vice age brings along with it ;
*' We're all more worldly-minded than there's need:"
Which passion age, that kills all passions else,
Will ripen in your sons too.
Dem. Have a care
That these fine arguments and this great mildness
Don't prove the ruin of us, Micio.
Micio. Peace!
It shall not be : away with all your fears !
This day be rul'd by me : come, smooth your brow.
Dem. Well, since at present things are so, I must,
But then I'll to the country with my son
To-morrow, at first peep of day.
Micio. At midnight,
So you'll but smile to-day.
Dem. And that wench too
I'll drag away with me.
Micio. Aye ; there you've hit it.
For by that means yoli'll keep your son at home;
Do but secure her.
Dem. I'll see that: for there
I'll put her in the kitchen and the mill,
And make her full, of ashes, smoke, and meal :
Nay at high noon too she shall gather stubble.
I'll burn her up, and make her black as coal.
Micio. Right! now you're Avise. — And then I'd make my
son
Go to bed to her, though against his will.
Dem. D've laugh at me? how happy in your temper!
I feel '
Micio. Ah! that again?
Dem. I've done.
Micio. In then !
And let us suit our humor to the time. {Exeunt.
528 THE BROTHERS. [Act V.
ACT THE FIFTH.
Scene I.
Demea alone.
Never did man lay down so fair a plan,
So wise a rule of life, but fortune, age,
Or long experience made some change in it;
And taught him that those things he thought he knew
He did not know, and what he held as best,
In practice he threw by. The very thing
That happens to myself. For that hard life
Which I have ever led, my race near run,
Now in the last stage, I renounce: and why?
But that by dear experience I've been told,
There's nothing so advantages a man
As mildness and complacency. Of this
My brother and myself are living proofs :
He always led an easy, cheerful life ;
Good-humor'd, mild, offending nobody,
Smiling on all ; a jovial bachelor,
His whole expenses centred in himself.
I, on the contrary, rough, rigid, cross.
Saving, morose, and thrifty, took a wife:
— What miseries did marriage bring ! — had children ;
— A new uneasiness ! — and then besides,
Striving all ways to make a fortune for them,
I have worn out my prime of life and health :
And now, my course near finish'd, Avhat return
Do I receive for all my toil ? Th^ir hate.
Meanwhile my brother, without any care.
Reaps all a father's comforts. Him they love,
Me they avoid : to him they open all
Their secret counsels ; doat on him ; and bo^h
Repair to him ; while I am quite forsaken.
His life they pray for, but expect my death.
Thus those, brought up by my exceeding labor,
He, at a small expense, has made his own :
The care all mine, and all the pleasure his.
— Well then, let me endeavor in my turn
To teach my tongue civility, to give
With open-handed generosity,
Since I am challeng'd to't ! — and let me too
Obtain the love and reverence of my children!
And if 'tis bought by bounty and indulgence,
I will not be behind-hand. — Cash will fail :
What's that to me, who am the eldest born?
Sc. IV.] THE BKOTHERS. 529
Scene IL
Enter Syrus.
Strus. Oh Sir! your brother has dispatck'd mc to you
To beg you'd not go further off.
Dem. Who's there?
What, honest Syrus ! save you : how is't with you ?
How goes it?
Syrus. Very well, Sir.
Dem. {aside). Excellent!
Now for the first time, I, against my nature.
Have added these three phrases, " Honest Syrus ! —
How is't? — How goes it?" — {To Syrus.) You have prov'd
yourself
A worthy servant. I'll reward you for it.
Syrus. I thank you. Sir.
Dem. I will, I promise you ;
And you shall be convinc'd on't very soon.
Scene III.
Entei' Geta.
Geta {to SosTRATA witlihi). Madam, I'm going to look after
them,
That they may call the bride immediately.
But here is Demea. Save you !
Dem. Oh! your name?
Geta. Geta, Sir.
Dem. Geta, I this day have found you
To be a fellow of uncommon worth:
For sm-e that servant's faith is well approv'd
Who holds his master's interest at heart.
As I perceiv'd that you did, Geta ! wherefore,
Soon as occasion offers, I'll reward you,
— I am endeavoring to be affable,
And not without success. {Aside.)
Geta. 'Tis kind in you
To think of your poor slave. Sir.
Dem. {aside). First of all
I court the mob, and win them by degrees.
Scene IV.
Enter ^schinus.
JEscH. They murder me with their delays ; and while
They lavish all this pomp upon the nuptials.
They waste the livelong day in preparation.
Z
530 THE BEOTHERS. [Act V.
Dem. How does my son?
^scii. My father ! are you here ?
Dem. Aye, by affection, and by blood your father,
Who love you better than my eyes. — But why
Do you not call the bride?
JEscH. 'Tis what I long for :
But wait the music and the singers.
Dem. Pshaw!
Will you for once be rul'd by an old fellow ?
^scH. AVell?
Dem. Ne'er mind singers, company, lights, music ;
But tell them to throw down the garden-wall,
As soon as possible. Convey the bride
That way, and lay both houses into one.
Bring too the mother, and whole family.
Over to us.
JEscii. I will. O charming father !
Dem. (aside). Cliarining ! See thei'e ! he calls me charming
now.
— My brother's house will be a thoroughfare ;
Throng'd with whole crowds of people ; much expense
Will follow ; very much : what's that to me ?
I am call'd charming, and get into favor.
— Ho ! order Babylo immediately
To pay him twenty minas. — Prithee, Syrus,
Why don't you execute your orders ?
Syrus. What?
Dem. Down with the wall ! — {Exit Syrus.) You, Geta, go
and bring
The ladies over.
Geta. Heaven bless you, Demea,
For all your friendship to our family ! {Exit Geta.
Dem. They're worthy of it. — ^What say you to this ?
{To ^SCHINUS.)
JEscii. I think it admirable.
Dem. 'Tis much better
Than for a poor soul, sick, and lying-in,
To be conducted through the street.
Mscn. I never
Saw any thing concerted better. Sir.
Dem. 'Tis just my way. — But here comes Micio.
Scene V.
Enter Micio.
Micio (at cnterinrf). My brother order it, d'ye say? where
is he?
— Was this your order, Demea ?
Dem. 'Twas my order :
And by this means, and every other way,
Sc. v.] THE BllOTHERS. 531
I would unite, serve, cherish, and oblige,
And join the family to ours !
tEsch. Pray do. Sir! (Jo Micio.)
Micio. I don't oppose it.
Dem. Nay, but 'tis our duty.
First, there's the mother of the bride
Micio. What then?
Dem. Worthy and modest.
Micio. So they say.
Dem. In years.
Micio. True.
Dem. And so far advanc'd, that she is long
Past child-bearing, a poor lone woman too,
With none to comfort her.
Micio. What means all this ?
Dem. This woman 'tis your place to marry, brother ;
— And yours (to iEscHiNus) to bring him to't.
Micio. I marry her ?
Dem. You.
Micio. I?
Dem. Yes, you I say.
Micio. Ridiculous !
Dem. (to ^scHiNus). If you're a man, he'll do't.
-^scH. (to Micio). Dear father !
Micio. How !
Do you then join him, fool?
Dem. Nay, don't deny.
It can't be otherwise.
Micio. You've lost your senses !
JEscH. Let me prevail upon you, Sir!
Micio. You're mad.
Away!
Dem. Oblige your son.
Micio. Have you your wits?
I a new married man at sixty-five !
And marry a decrepit poor old woman !
Is that what you advise me !
^SCH. Do it. Sir!
I've promis'd them.
Micio. You've promis'd them, indeed!
Prithee, boy, promise for yourself.
Dem. Come, come !
What if he ask'd still more of you ?
Micio. As if
This was not ev'n the utmost.
Dem. Nay, comply !
-^scii. Be not obdurate!
Dem. Come, come, promise him.
Micio. Won't you desist?
JEscH. No, not till I prevail.
Micio. This is mere force.
532 THE BROTHEKS. [Act V.
Dem. Nay, nay, comply, good Micio !
Micio. Though this appears to me absurd, wrong, foolish,
And quite repugnant to my scheme of life.
Yet, if you're so much bent on't, let it be !
• ^SCH. Obliging father, worthy my best love !
Dem. (aside). What now ? — This answers to my wish. — "What
more ?
— Hegio's their kinsman (jLo Micio), our relation too,
And very poor. We should do him some service.
Micio. Do what?
Dem. There is a little piece of ground,
Which you let out near town. Let's give it him
To live upon.
Micio. So little, do you call it?
Dem. Well, if 'tis large, let's give it. He has been
Father to her ; a good man ; our relation.
It will be given worthily. In short.
That saying, Micio, I now make my own.
Which you so lately and so wisely quoted ;
"It is the common failing of old men
To be too much intent on worldly matters."
Let us wipe off that stain. The saying's true,
And should be practic'd.
Micio. Well, well ; be it so.
If he requires it. {Pointing to uiEsciiiNus.)
JEscH. I beseech it, father. «
Dem. Now you're indeed my brother, soul and body.
Micio. I'm glad to find you think me so.
Dem. I foil him
At his own Aveapons. {Aside.)
Scene VI.
To them Syrus.
Syrus. I have executed
Your orders, Demea.
Dem. a good fellow ! Truly
Syrus, I think, should be made free to-day.
Micio. Made free ! He ! Wherefore ?
Dem. Oh, for many reasons.
Syrus. Oh Demea, you're a noble gentleman.
I've taken care of both your sons from boys ;
Taught them, instructed them, and given them
The wholesomest advice that I was able.
Dem. The thing's apparent : and these offices,
To cater ; — bring a wench in, safe and snug ;
— Or in mid-day prepare an entertainment ; —
All these are talents of no common man.
Syrus. Oh most delightful gentleman !
Sc. VI.] THE BROTHERS. 533
Dem. Besides,
He has been instrumental too this day
In purchasing the Music-Girl. He manag'd
The whole affair. We should reward him for it.
It will encourage others. — In a word,
Your ^schinus would have it so.
Micio. Do you
Desire it?
^SCH. Yes, Sir.
Micio. Well, if you desire it
Come hither, Syrus ! — Be thou free ! (Syrtjs kneels ; Micio
strikes him, being the ceremony of manumission, or giving a
slave his freedom.)
Syrus. I thank you:
Thanks to you all; but most of all, to Demea.!
Dem. I'm glad of your good fortune.
^scH. So am I.
Syrus. I do believe it ; and I wish this joy
Were quite complete, and I might see my wife,
My Phrygia too, made free, as well as I.
Dem. The very best of women !
Syrus. And the first
That suckled my young master's son, your grandson.
Dem. Indeed ! the first who suckled him ! — Nay then,
Beyond all doubt, she should be free.
Micio. For what?
Dem. For that. Nav, take the sum, whate'er it be,
Of me.
Syrus. Now all the powers above grant all
Your wishes, Demca!
Micio. You have thriv'd to-day
Most rarely, Syrus.
Dem. And besides this, Micio,
It would be handsome to advance him something
To try his fortune with. He'll soon return it.
Micio. Not that. {Snapping his fingers.)
JEscH. He's honest.
Syrus. Faith I will return it.
Do but advance it.
^SCH. Do, Sir!
Micio. Well, I'll think on't.
Dem. I'll see that he shall do't. {To Syrus.)
Syrus. Thou best of men !
^SCH. My most indulgent father !
Micio. What means this?
Whence comes this hasty change of manners, brother?
Whence flows all this extravagance? and whence
This sudden prodigality ?
Dem. I'll tell you :
To show you, that the reason why our sons
Think you so pleasant and agreeable,
534 THE BEOTHERS. [Act V., Sc. VI.
Is not from your deserts, or truth, or justice.
But your compliance, bounty, and indulgence.
— Now, therefore, if I'm odious to you, son,
Because I'm not subservient to your humor
In all things, right or wrong ; away with care !
Spend, squander, and do what you will ! — but if.
In those affairs where youth has made you blind,
Eager, and thoughtless, you will suffer me
To counsel and correct — and in due season
Indulge you — I am at your service.
^scii. Father,
In all things we submit ourselves to you.
What's fit and proper, you know best. — But what
Shall come of my i)oor brother ?
Dem. I consent
That he shall have her: let him finish there.
-ZEscH. All now is as it should be. — (7b the audience.) Clap
vour hands !
THE STEP.MOTHER.
PEESONS KEPEESENTED.
Prologue.
SOSTRATA.
Laches.
Myrrhina.
Phidippus.
Bacchis.
Pamphilus.
Philotis.
Parmeno.
Syra.
SOSIA.
Nurse, Servants to BaccJds,
Boy, and other Servants.
etc.
Scene, Athens.
PROLOGUE.
This play is call'd the Step-Mother. "VATien first
It was presented, such a hurricane,
A tumult so uncommon interven'd.
It neither could be seen nor understood :
So taken were the people, so engag'd
By a rope-dancer! — It is now brought on
As a new piece : and he who wrote the play
SufFer'd it not to be repeated then.
That he might profit by a second sale.
Others, his plays, you have already known;
Now then, let me beseech you, know this too.
ANOTHER PROLOGUE.
I COME a pleader, in the shape of prologue :
Let me then gain my cause, and now grown old.
Experience the same favor as when young ;
Who then recover'd many a lost play,
Breath'd a new life into the scenes, and sa\'d
The author and his writings from oblivion.
Of those which first I studied of Cascilius,
In some I was excluded ; and in some
Hardly maintain'd my ground. But knowing well
The variable fortunes of the scene,
I was content to hazard certain toil
536 THE STEP-MOTHER.
For an uucerlain gain. I undertook
To rescue those same plays from condemnation,
And labor'd to reverse your sentence on them;
That the same Poet might afford me more,
And no ill fortune damp young Genius in him.
My cares prevail'd; the plays were heard; and thug
Did I restore an Author, nearly lost
Through the malevolence of adversaries.
To study, labor, and the Poet's art.
But had I at that time despis'd his plays,
Or labor'd to deter him from the task.
It had been easy to have kept him idle.
And to have scar'd him from attempting more:
For my sake, therefore, deign to hear with candor
The suit I mean to offer to you now.
Once more I bring the Step-Mother before you,
"Which yet in silence I might never play ;
So did confusion crush it: which confusion
Your prudence may allay, if it will deign
To second our endeavors. — When I first
Began to play this piece, the sturdy Boxers,
(The dancers on the rope expected too,)
Th' increasing crowds, the noise and women's clamor,
Oblig'd me to retire before my time.
I, upon this occasion, had recourse
To my old way. I brought it on again.
In the first act I please : meanwhile there spreads
A rumor of the Gladiators : then
The people flock together, riot, roar.
And fight for places. I meanwhile my place
Could not maintain — To-day there's no disturbance ;
All's silence and attention ; a clear stage :
'Tis yours to give these games their proper grace.
Let not, oh let not the Dramatic Art
Fall to a few ! let your authority
Assist and second mine ! if I for gain
Ne'er overrated my abilities.
If I have made it still my only care
To be obedient to your will, oh grant
That he who hath committed his performance
To my defense, and who hath thrown himself
On your protection, be not giv'n to scorn.
And foul derision of his envious foes !
Admit this plea for my sake, and be silent;
That other Poets may not fear to \vrite,
That I too may hereafter find it meet
To play new pieces bought at my expense.
Act. L, Sc. II.] THE STEP-MOTHEK. 537
ACT THE FIRST.
Scene I.
Philotis, Syra.
Phi. Now, by my troth, a woman of the town
Scarce ever finds a faithful lover, Syra.
This very Pamphilus, how many times
He swore to Bacchis, swore so solemnly
One could not but believe him, that he never
Would, in her lifetime, marry. See ! he's married.
Syra. I warn you, therefore, and most earnestly
Conjure you, to have pity upon none.
But plunder, fleece, and beggar ev'ry man
That falls into your pow'r.
Phi. What ! spare none ?
Syra. None.
For know, there is not one of all your sparks
But studies to cajole you with fine speeches,
And have his Avill as cheaply as he can.
Should not you, then, endeavor to fool them?
Phi. But to treat all alike is wrong.
Syra. What ! wrong ?
To be reve^ig'd upon your enemies ?
Or to snare those who spread their snares for you ?
— Alas ! why have not I your youth and beauty.
Or you my sentiments ?
w
Scene II.
Ente7^ Parmeno.
Par. {to ScRiTDS ivithin). If our old gentleman
Asks for me, tell him I'm this very moment
Gone to the Port to seek for Pamphilus.
D'ye understand my meaning, Scritus ? If he asks,
Tell him that ; if he should not ask, say nothing ;
That this, excuse may serve another time.
( Comes forward.)
— But is not that Philotis ? Whence comes she ?
Philotis, save you !
. Phi. Save you, Parmeno !
Syra. Save you, good Parmeno !
Par. And save you, Syra!
— Tell me, Philotis, where have you been gadding?
Taking your pleasure this long time?
Phi. I've taken
No pleasure, Parmeno, indeed. I vrent
Z2
538 THE STEP-MOTHER. [Act I.
With a most brutal Captain hence to Corinth,
There have I led a wretched life with him
For two whole years.
Par. Aye, aye, I warrant you
That you have often wish'd to be in Athens;
Often repented of your journey.
Phi. Oh,
'Tis quite impossible to tell how much
I long'd to be at home, how much I long'd
To leave the Captain, see you, revel with you,
After the good old fashion, free and easy.
For there I durst not speak a single word.
But what, and when the mighty Captain pleas'd.
Par. "Twas cruel in him thus to tie your tongue:
At least, I'll warrant, that you thought it so.
Phi. But what's this business, Parmeno? this story
That Bacchis has been telling me within ?
I could not have believ'd that Pamphilus
Would in her lifetime marry.
Par. Marry truly!
Phi. Why he is married; is not he?
Par. He is.
But Pm afraid 'twill prove a crazy match,
And will not hold together long.
Phi. Heav'n grant it.
So it turn out to Bacchis's advantage !
But how can I believe this, Parmeno ?
Tell me.
Par. It is not fit it should be told.
Inquire no more.
Phi. Fm- fear I should divulge it ?
Now Heav n so prosper me, as I inquire,
Not for the sake of telling it again,
But to rejoice within myself.
Par. All these
Fair words, Philotis, sha'n't prevfiil on me
To trust my back to your discretion.
Phi. Well;
Don't tell me, Parmeno. — As if yon had not
Much rather tell this secret than I hear it.
Par. She's in the right: I am a blab, 'tis true,
It is my greatest failing. — Give your word
You'll not reveal it, and I'll tell you.
Phi. Now
You're like yourself again. I give my word.
Speak.
Par. Listen then.
Phi. I'm all ear.
Par. Pamphilus
Doted on Bacchis still as much as ever.
When the old gentleman began to tense him
Sc. II.] THE !STEP-MOTHER. 539
To many, in tlio common cant of fathers ;
— "That he was now grown old; and Famphilus
His only child; and that he long'd for heirs,
As props of his old age." At first my master
Withstood his instances, but as his father
Became more hot and urgent, Pamphilus
Began to waver in his mind, and felt
A conflict betwixt love and duty in liira.
At length, by hammering on marriage still,
And daily instances, th' old man prevail'd,
And made a match with our next neighbor's daughter.
Pamphilus did not take it much to heart,
Till just upon the very brink of wedlock :
But when he saw the nuptial rites prepar'd,
And, without respite, he must marry ; then
It came so home to him, that even Bacchis,
Had she been present, must haA^e pitied him.
Whenever he could steal from company.
And talk to me alone, — " Oh Parmeno,
What have I done?" he'd cry. — ''I'm lost forever.
Into what ruin have I plung'd" myself!
I can not bear it, Parmeno. Ah wretch !
I am undone."
Phi. Now all the powers of heav'n
Confound you. Laches, for thus teasing him?
Par. In short, he marries, and brings home his wife.
The first night he ne'er touch'd her! nor the next.
Phi. How ! he a youth, and she a maidenhead !
Tipsy, and never touch her ! 'Tis not likely ;
Nor do I think it can be true.
Par. No wonder.
For they that come to you come all desire :
But he was bound to her against his will.
Phi. What followed upon this?
Par. a few days after,
Pamphilus, taking me aside, informs me,
*'That the maid still remain'd a maid for him;
That he had hop'd, before he brought her home,
He might have borne the marriage : — but resolving
Within myself not to retain her long,
I held it neither honesty in me.
Nor of advantage to the maid herself.
That I should throw her off to scorn: — but rather
Keturn her to her friends, as I receiv'd her.
Chaste and inviolate."
Piii. A worthy youth,
And of great modesty !
Par. "To make this public
Would not, I think, do well: and to return her
Upon her father's hands, no crime alleg'd.
As arrogant : but she, I hope, as soon
540 THE STEP-MOTHEK. [Act I., Sc. II.
As slic perceives she can not live with me,
Will of her own accord depart."
Piii. But tell me ;
Went he meanwhile to Bacchis ?
Par. Every day.
But she, as is the way you know, perceiving
He was another's property, became
More cross and mercenary.
Piii. Troth, no wonder.
Par. Aye, but 'twas that detach'd him chiefly from her.
For when he had examined well himself,
Bacchis, and her at home; and had compar'd
Their different manners ; seeing that his bride,
After the fashion of a lib'ral mind,
Was decent, modest, patient of affi-onts.
And anxious to conceal the wrongs he did her ;
Touch'd partly with compassion for his wife,
And partly tir'd with t'other's insolence.
He by degrees withdrew his heart from Bacchis,
Transferring it to her, whose disposition
Was so congenial lo his own. Meanwhile
An old relation of the family
Dies in the isle of Imbrus. His estate
Comes by the law to them ; and our old man
Dispatching thither, much against his will.
The now-fond Pamphilus, lie leaves his wife
Here with his mother. The old gentleman
Eetir'd into the country, and but seldom
Comes up to town.
Phi. But what is there in this
That can affect the marriage?
Par. You shall hear
Immediately. At first, for some few days,
The woman seem'd to live on friendly terms :
Till all at once the bride, forsooth, conceiv'd
A wonderful disgust to Sostrata :
And yet there was no open breach between them.
And no complaints on either side.
Piii. What then?
Par. If Sostrata, for conversation' sake,
Went to the bride, she instantly withdrew,
Shunning her company. At length, not able
To bear it any longer, she pretends
Her mother had sent for her to assist
At some home-sacrifice. Away she went.
After a few days' absence, Sostrata
Sent for her back. They made some lame excuse,
I know not what. She sends again. No lady.
Then after several messages, at last
They say the gentlewoman's sick. My mistress
Goes on a visit to her : not let in.
Act II., Sc. I.] THE STEP-MOTHER. 541
Th' old gentleman, inform'd of all this, came
On this occasion yesterday to town ;
And waited on the father of the bride.
What pass'd between them, I as yet can't tell ;
And yet I long to know the end of this.
— ^There's the whole business. Now I'll on my way.
Phi. And I : for there's a stranger here, with whom
I have an assignation.
Par. Speed the jjIow !
Phi. Parmeno, fare you well !
Par. Farewell, Philotis! {Exeunt severally.
ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.
Laches, Sostrata.
Lacii. Oh heav'n and earth, Avhat animals a'rc women :
What a conspiracy between them all,
To do or not do, love or hate alike !
Not one but has the sex so strong in her,
She differs nothing from the rest. Step-mothers
All hate their Step-daughters : and every wife
Studies alike to contradict her husband,
The same perverseness running through them all.
Each seems train'd up in the same school of mischief:
And of that school, if any such there be.
My wife, I think, is schoolmistress.
SosTRA. Ah me !
Who Jinow not why I am accus'd.
Lacii. Not know ?
SosTRA. No, as I hope for mercy! as I hope
We may live long together !
Lach. Heav'n forbid!
SosTRA. Hereafter, Laches, you'll be sensible
How wrongfully you have accus'd me.
Lach. I?
Accuse you wrongfully ? Is't possible
To speak too hardly of your late behavior?
Disgracing me, yourself, and family;
Laying up sorrow for your absent son ;
Converting into foes his new-made friends,
Who thought him worthy of their child in marriage.
You've been our bane, and by your shrewishness
Brew'd this disturbance.
SoSTRA. I?
Lach. You, woman, you !
Who take me for a stone, and not a man.
Think ye, because I*m mostly in the country.
542 THE STEP-MOTHEK. [Act J I.
I'm ignorant of your proceedings here ?
No, no ; I know much better what's done here,
Than where I'm chiefly resident. Because
Upon my family at home depends
My character abroad. I knew long since
Philumena's disgust to you ; no wonder !
Nay, 'twere a wonder, had it not been so.
Yet I imagin'd not her hate so strong,
'Twould vent itself upon the family :
"Which had I dream'd of, she should have remain'd,
And you pack'd off. — Consider, Sostrata,
How little cause you had to vex me thus.
In complaisance to you, and husbanding
My fortune, I retir'd into the country:
Scraping, and laboring beyond the bounds
Of reason, or my age, that my estate
Might furnish means for your expense and pleasure.
— Was it not then your duty, in return,
To see 'that nothing happen'd here to vex me ?
SoSTEA. 'TAvas not my doing, nor my fault indeed.
Lacii. 'Twas your fault, Sostrata ; your fault alone.
You was sole mistress here ; and in your care
The house, though I had freed you of all other cares.
A woman, an old woman too, and quarrel
With a green girl ! oh shame upon't ! — You'll say
That 'twas her fault.
SosTRA. Not I indeed, my Laches.
Lacii. Tore Heav'n, I'm glad on't ! on my son's account.
For as for you, I'm well enough assur'd,
No fault can make you worse.
SosTRA. But prithee, husband.
How can you tell that her aversion to me
Is not a mere pretense, that she may stay
The longer with her mother ?
Lacii. No such thing.
Was not your visit yesterday a proof,
From their denial to admit you to her?
SosTRA. They said she was so sick she could not see me.
Lacii. Sick of your humors ; nothing else, I fancy.
And well she might: for there's not one of you
But want your sons to take a wife : and that's
No sooner over, but the very woman
Which, by your instigation, they have married,
They, by your instigation,, put away.
Scene II.
Eyiter Phidippus.
Phid. (to Philumena within). Although, Philumena, I know
my pow'r
Sc. IL] THE ISTEr-MOTHER. 543
To force you to comply with my commands ;
Yet yielding to paternal tenderness,
I e'en give Avay, nor cross your humor.
Lach. See,
Phidippus in good time! I'll learn from him
The cause of this.— (^Going tip to him.) Phidippus, though I
own
Myself indulgent to my family,
Yet my complacency and easiness
Runs not to that extreme, that my good-nature
Corrupts their morals. Would you act like me,
'Twould be of service to both families.
But you, I see, are wholly in their power.
Phid. See there!
Lach. I waited on you yesterday
About your daughter : ' but I went away
No wiser than I came. It is not right,
If you would have the alliance last between us,
To smother your resentment. If we seem
In fault, declare it ; that we may refute.
Or make amends for our offense: and you
Shall carve the satisfaction out yourself.
But if her sickness only is the cause
Of her remaining in your family,
Trust me, Phidippus, but you do me wrong.
To doubt her due attendance at my house.
For, by the pow'rs of heav'n, I'll not allow
That you, although her father, wish her better
Than I. I love her on my son's account ;
To whom, I'm well con vine' d, she is as dear
As he is to himself: and I can tell
How deeply 'twill affect him, if he knows this.
Wherefore I wish she should come home again, •
Before my son's return.
Phid. My good friend Laches,
I know your care, and your benevolence ;
Nor doubt that all is as you say; and hope
That you'll believe I wish for her return.
So I could but effect it.
Lach. What prevents it?
Tell me, Phidippus ! does she blame her husband ?
Phid. Not in the least. Fo;- when I urg'd it home,
And threaten'd to oblige her to return,
She vow'd most solemnly she could not bear
Your house, so long as Pamphilus was absent.
— All have their failings : I am of so soft
A nature, I can't thwart my family.
Lach. Ha, Sostrata! (To Sostrata, apart.')
SosTRA. Wretch that I am ! Ah me ! (Aside.)
Lach. And her return's impossible? (7b Phidippus.)
Phid. At present.
544 THE STEP-MOTHEE. [Act III.
— Would you aught else with me ? for I have business
That calls me to the Forum.
Lach. I'll go with you. {Exeunt.
Scene III.
Manet Sostrata.
SosTRA. How unjustly _
Do husbands stretch their censures to all wives
For the offenses of a few, whose vices
Reflect dishonor on the rest ! — For, Heaven
So help me, as I'm wholly innocent
Of what my husband now accuses me !
But 'tis no easy task to clear myself;
So fix'd and rooted is the notion in them.
That Step-Mothers are all severe. — Not I ;
For I have ever lov'd Philumena
As my own daughter ; nor can I conceive
What accident has drawn her hatred on me.
* My son's return, I hope, will settle all ;
And, ah, I've too much cause to wish his coming. (Exit.
ACT THE THIRD.
Scene I.
Enter Pamphilus and Parmeno.
Pam. Never did man experience greater ills,
More miseries in love than I. — Distraction !
Was it for this I held my life so dear?
For this was I so anxious to return ?
Better, much better were it to have liv'd
In any place, than come to this again !
To feel and know myself a wretch ! — For when
Mischance befalls us, all the interval
Between its happening, and our knowledge of it,
May be esteem'd clear gain.
Par. But as it is,
You'll sooner be deliver'd from your troubles :
For had you not return'd, the breach between them
Had been made wider. But now, Pamphilus,
Both will, I doubt not, reverence your presence.
You'll know the whole, make up their difference,
And reconcile them to each other. — These
Are all mere trifles, which you think so grievous.
Pam. Ah, why will you attempt to comfort me ?
Was ever such a wretch ? — Before I married,
Sc. I.] THE STEP-MOTHER. 545
My heart, you know, was wedded to another.
— But I'll not dwell upon that miser}'-,
Which may be easily eonceiv'd : and yet
I had not courage to refuse the match
My father forc'd upon me, — Scarcely wean'd
Erom my old love, my lim'd soul scarcely freed
Erom Bacchis, and devoted to my wife,
Than, lo, a new calamity arises.
Threatening to tear me from Philumcna.
Eor either I shall find my mother faulty,
Or else my wife : In either case unhappy.
Eor (Inty, Parmeno, obliges me
To bear with all the failings of a mother :
And then I am so bounden to my wife.
Who, calm as patience, bore the wrongs I did her,
Nor ever murmur'd a complaint. — But sure
'Twas somewhat A'ery serious, Parmeno,
That could occasion such a lasting quarrel.
Pak. Rather some trifle, if you knew the truth.
The greatest quarrels do not always rise
Erom deepest injuries. We often see
That what would never move another's spleen
Eenders the choleric your worst of foes.
Observe how lightly children squabble. — Why?
Because they're govern'd by a feeble mind.
Women, like children, too, are impotent,
And weak of soul. A single word, perhaps,
Has kindled all this enmity between them.
Pam. Go, Parmeno, and let them know I'm come.
(Noise within.')
Par. Ha! what's all this?
Pam. Hush !
Par. I perceive a bustle,
And running to and fro. — Come this v/ay, Sir !
— To the door ! — nearer still ! — There, there, d'ye hear ?
(Noise continues.)
Pam. Peace ; hush ! (Shriek within.) Oh Jupiter, I heard
a shriek !
Par. You talk yourself, and bid me hold my tongue.
Myrrhina {within). Hush, my dear child, for Heaven's sake !
Pam. It seem'd
The voice of my wife's mother. I am ruin'd !
Par. How so ?
Pam. Undone !
Par. And why ?
Pam. Ah, Parmeno,
They hide some terrible misfortune from me !
Par. They said your wife Philumena was ill :
Whether 'tis that, I can not tell.
Pam. Death, Sirrah !
Why did you not inform me that before ?
546 THE STEP-MOTHER. [Act HI.
Par. Because I could not tell you all at once.
Pam. What's her disorder?
Par. I don't knoAv.
Pam. But tell me,
Has she had no physician?
Par. I don't know.
Pam, But why do I delay to enter straight,
That I may learn the truth, be what it will ?
— Oh my Philumena, in what condition
Shall I now find thee ?• — If there's danger of thee,
My life's in danger too. {Exit.
•
Scene II.
Parmeno alone.
It were not good
That I should follow him into the house :
For all our family are odious to them.
That's plain from their denying Sostrata
Admittance yesterday. — And if by chance
Her illness should increase (which Heav'n forbid,
For my poor master's sake !), they'll cry directly,
" Sostrata's servant came into the house :"
Swear, — " that I brought the plague along with me,
Put all their lives in danger, and increas'd
Philumena's distemper." — By which means
My mistress will be blam'd, 'and I be beaten.
Scene III.
Enter Sostrata.
SosTRA. Alas, I hear a dreadful noise within.
Philumena, I fear, grows worse and worse :
Which jEsculapius, and thou. Health, forbid !
But now I'll visit her. {Goes toward the house.)
Par. Ho, Sostrata !
SosTRA. Who's there ?
Par. You'll be shut out a second time.
SosTRA. Ha, Parmeno, are you there ? — Wretched woman !
What shall I do? — Not visit my son's wife,
When she lies sick at next door !
Par. Do not go ;
No, nor send any body else ; for they
That love the folks, to whom themselves are odious,
I think are guilty of a double folly :
Their labor proves but idle to themselves,
And troublesome to tliose for whom 'tis meant.
Besides, your son, the moment he arriv'd,
Went in to visit her.
Sc. v.] THE STEP-MOTHER. 547
SosTKA. How, Parmeno !
Is Pamphilus arriv'd?
Par. He is.
SosTRA. Thank Heav'n !
Oh, how my comfort is reviv'd by that !
Par. And therefore I ne'er went into the house.
For if Phihimcna's complaints abate.
She'll tell him, face to face^ the whole affair,
And Avhat has pass'd between you to create
This difference. — But here he comes — how sad !
Scene IV.
Enter Pamphilus.
SosTRA. My dear boy, Pamphilus!
Pam. My mother, save you! {Disordered.)
SosTRA. I'm glad to see you safe return'd — How does
Your wife !
Pam. a little better.
SosTRA. Grant it, Heav'n !
— But why d'ye weep, and why are you so sad?
Pam. Nothing, good mother.
SosTRA. What was all that bustle?
Tell me, did pain attack her suddenly?
Pam. It did.
SosTRA. And what is her complaint?
Pa3i. a fever.
SosTRA. What! a quotidian?
Par. So they say. But in.
Good mother, and I'll follow.
SosTRA. Be it so. {Exit.
Pam. Do you run, Parmeno, to meet the servants,
And give your help in bringing home the baggage.
Par. As if they did not know the road!
Pa3I. Away! {Exit Parmeno.
•
Scene V.
Pamphilus alone.
Which way shall I begin the wretched tale
Of my misfortunes, which have fall'n upon me
Thus unexpectedly? which even now
These very eyes have seen, these ears have heard?
And which, cliscover'd, drove me out o'doors.
Cover'd with deep confusion? — For but now
As I rush'd in, all anxious for my wife,
And thinking to have found her visited,
Alas! with a far different complaint;
Soon as lier women saw me, at first sight *
548 THE STEP-MOTHER. [Act III.
Struck and o'erjoy'd, they all exclaim'd, "He's come!"
And then as soon each countenance was chang'd,
That chance had bvought me so unseasonably.
Meanwhile one of them ran before, to speak
Of ray arrival. I, who long'd to see her,
Directly follow'd; and no sooner enter'd,
Than her disorder was, alas ! too plain :
For neither had they leisure to disguise it,
Nor could she silence the loud cries of travail.
Soon as I saw it, "Oh shame, shame!" I cried,
And rush'd away in tears and agony,
O'erwhelm'd with horror at a stroke so grievous.
The mother follows me, and at the threshold
Falls on her knees before me all in tears.
This touch'd me to the soul. And certainly
'Tis in the very nature of our minds.
To rise and fall according to our fortunes.
Thus she address'd me. — " Oh, my Pamphilus,
The cause of her removal from your house
You've now discover' d. To my virgin-daughter
Some unknown villain oifer'd violence ;
And she fled hither to conceal her labor
From you and from your family." Alas!
When I but call her earnest prayers to mind,
I can not choose but weep. — "Whatever chance,"
Continued she, "whatever accident,
Brought you to-day thus suddenly upon us,
By that we both conjure you — if in justice
And equity we may — to keep in silence,
And cover her distress. — Oh, Pamphilus,
If e'er you witness'd her affection for you,
By that affection she implores you now
Not to refuse us ! — for recalling her.
Do as your own discretion shall direct.
That she's in labor now, or has conceiv'd
By any other person, is a secret
Known but to you alone. For I've been told, •
The two first months you had no commerce with her,
And it is now the seventh since your union.
Your sentiments on this are evident.
But now, my Pamphilus, if possible,
I'll call it a miscarriage: no one else
But will believe, as probable, 'tis yours.
The child shall be immediately expos'd.
No inconvenience will arise to you;
While thus you shall conceal the injury
That my poor girl unworthily sustain'd."
— I promis'd her ; and I wijl keep my word.
But to recall her would be poor indeed:
Nor will I do it, though I love her still.
* And former commerce binds me strongly to her.
Sc. VI.] THE STEP-MOTHER. 549
— I c^'t but weep, to think how sad and lonely
My future life will be.— Oh fickle fortune !
How transient are thy smiles I — But I've been school'd
To patience by my former hapless passion,
Which I subdued by reason : and I'll try
By reason to subdue this too. — ^But yonder
Comes Parmeno, I see, with th' other slaves!
He must by no means now be present, since
To him alone I formerly reveal'd
That I abstain'd from her when first we married:
And if he hears her frequent cries, I fear
That he'll discover her to be in labor.
I must dispatch him on some idle errand,
Until Philumena's deliver'd.
Scene VI.
jbnter at a distance Parmeno, Sosia, and other slaves with baggage.
Par. (to Sosia). Aye?
And had you such a wretched voyage, say you?
Sosia. Oh Parmeno, words can't express how wretched
A sea-life is.
Par. Indeed? •
Sosia. Oh happy Parmeno !
You little know the dangers you've escap'd,
Who've never been at sea. — For not to dwell
On other hardships, only think of this !
I was on shipboard thirty days or more.
In constant fear of sinking all the while,
The winds so contrary, such stormy weather !
Par. Dreadful !
Sosia. I found it so, I promise you.
In short, were I assur'd I must return,
'Fore Heaven, Parmeno, I'd run away.
Rather than go on board a ship again.
Par. You have been apt enough to think of that
On slighter reasons, Sosia, before now.
— But yonder's my young master Pamphilus
Standing before that door. — Go in ! I'll to him.
And see if he has any business for me.
(^Exeunt Sosia, and the rest of the slaves with the baggage.
Master, are you here still? {To Pamphilus.)
Pam. Oh Parmeno!
I waited for you.
Par. What's your pleasure, Sir?
PA]tt. Run to the Citadel.
Par. Who?
Pam. You.
Par. The Citadel !
For what ?
550 THE STEP-MOTHER. [Act IH.
Paji. Find out one Callidemides,
My landlord of Mycone, who came over *
In the same ship with me.
Par. a plague upon it!
Would not one swear that he had made a vow
To break my wind, if he came home in safety,
With running on his en-ands?
Pam. Away, Sirrah I
Par. What message ? must I only find him out ?
Pam. Yes; tell him that it is not in my power
To meet him there to-day, as I appointed ;
That he mayn't wait for me in vain. — Hence ; fly !
Par. But I don't know him, if I see him. Sir.
Pam. (impatiently). Well ; I'll describe him, so you can not
miss him.
— A large, red, frizzle-pated, gross, blear-eyed,
I'11-looking fellow.
Par. Plague on him, say I !
— What if he should not come. Sir, must. I wait
Till evening for him?
Pam. Wait. — Be quick !
Par. Be quick?
I can't be quick, — I'm so much tir'd. {Exit.
#
Scene VII.
Pamphilus alone.
He's gone.
What shall I do ? Alas ! I scarcely know
How to conceal, as Myrrh ina desir'd,
Her daughter's labor. Yet I pity her;
And what I can, I am resolv'd to do,
Consistent with my duty : for my parents
Must be obey'd before my love. — But see !
My father and Phidippus come this way.
How I shall act, Ileav'n knows.
Scene VIIL
Enter at a distance Laches and Phidippus.
Lach. Did not you say
She only waited my son's coming?
Phid. Aye.
Lach. They say that he's arriv'd. Let us return then!
Pam. {behind). What reason I shall frame to give my father,
For not recalling her, I can not tell.
Lach. (overhearing). Whose voice was that ?
Pam. (to himself). And yet I am resolv'd
To stand to my first purpose.
Sc. VIII. J THE STEP-MOTilEK. 551
Lacii. {seeing Pampiiilus). lie himself,
Whom I was speaking of!
Pam. {going tip). My father, save you !
Lach, Save you, my son !
PuiD. Pamphilus, welcome home !
I'm glad to see you safe, and in good health.
Pam. I do believe it.
Lacii. Are you just now come?
Pam. Just now. Sir.
Lach. Well ; and tell me, Pamphilus,
What has our kinsman Phania left us ?
Pam. Ah, Sir,
He, his Avhole lifetime, was a man of pleasure,
And such men seldom much enrich their heirs.
Yet he has left at least this praise behind him,
"While he liv'd, he liv'd well."
Lach. And have you brought
Nothing home with you but this single sentence?
Pam. What .he has left, though small, is of advantage.
Lach. Advantage ? No, it is a disadvantage :
Por I could wish he was alive and well.
Phid. That you may safely ; for your wishing for't
Will never bring the man to life again :
Yet I know well enough which you'd like best. (Aside.)
Lach. (to Pamphilus). Phidippus order'd that Philumena
Should be sent over to him yesterday.
— Say that you order'd it. (Aside to Phidippus, tlirusl'mg Jam.)
PiiiD. (aside to Laciiks). Don't thrust me so.
I did. (Aloud.)
Lach. But now he'll send her home again.
Phid. I will.
Pam. Nay, nay, I know the whole affair.
Since my arrival, I have heard it all.
Lach, Now plague upon these envious tale-bearers,
Who are so glad to fetch and carry news !
Pam. (to Phidippus). That I've endeavor'd to deserve no
blame
From any of the family, I'm conscious.
Were it my inclination to relate
How true I've been, how kind and gentle tow'rd her,
I well might do it : but I rather choose
You should collect it from herself. For when
She, although now there's enmity between us,
Bespeaks me fair, you will the sooner credit
My disposition tow'rd her. And I call
The Gods to witness that this separation
Has not arisen from my fault. J3ut since
She thinks it is beneath her to comply
With Sostrata, and bear my mother's temper;
And since no other means are to be found
Of reconciliation, I, Phidippus,
552 THE STEP-MOTHER. [Act III.
Must leave my mother or Philumena.
Duty then calls me to regard my mother.
Lach. My Pamphilus, I can not be displeas'd
That you prefer to all the world a parent.
But take heed your resentment don't transport you
Beyond the bounds of reason, Pamphilus.
Pam. Ah, what resentment can 1 bear to her,
Who ne'er did any thing I'd wish undone.
But has so often deserv'd well of me ?
I love her, own her worth, and languish for her ;
For I have known her tenderness of soul :
And Heaven grant that with some other husband
She find that happiness she miss'd in me ;
Erom whom the strong hand of necessity
Divorces her forever !
Phid. That event
'Tis in your jiow'r to hinder.
Lach. If you're wise,
Take your wife home again !
Pam. I can not, father.
I must not slack my duty to my mother. {Going.)
Lacii. Where arc you going? {Exit Pamphilus.
Scene IX.
Manent Laches and Phidippus.
Phid. How perverse is this! (^Angrily.)
Lach. Did not I say he'd take it ill, Phidippus,
And therefore begg'd you to send back your daughter?
Phid. 'Fore Heaven I did not think him such a churl.
What ! does he fancy I'll go cringing to him ?
No ; — if he'll take his wife he may : — if not.
Let him refund her portion; — there's an end!
Lach. See there now! you're as fractious as himself.
Phid. You're come back obstinate and proud enough
In conscience, Pamphilus! (Angrili/.)
Lach. This anger will subside,
Though he has had some cause to be disturb'd.
Phid. Because you've had a little money left you,
Your minds are so exalted !
Lacii. "WTiat, d'ye quarrel
With me too?
Phid. Let him take to-day to think on't,
And send me word if he shall have her home
Or not: that if she don't remain his wife,
She may be given to another. (Exit hastily.
Act IV., Sc. II.] THE STEP-MOTHER. 553
SCEKE X.
Laches alone.
Stay !
Hear me ! one word, Phidippus ! Stay ! — He's gone.
— ^What is't to me? {Angrily.) E'en let them settle it
Among themselves ; since nor my son, nor he
Take my advice, nor mind one word I say.
— ^This quarrel shall go round, I promise them:
I'll to my wife, the author of this mischief,
And vent my spleen and anger upon her. {Exit.
ACT THE FOURTH.
Scene I.
Enter Myrrhina hastily.
Myrr. What shall I do? — Confusion! — which way turn?
Alas ! what answer shall I make my husband ?
For I dare say he heard the infant's cries,
He ran so hastily, without a word.
Into my daughter's chamber. If he finds
That she has been deliver'd, what excuse
To make, for having thus conceal'd her labor,
I can't devise. — But our door creaks! — 'tis he.
I am undone.
Scene II.
Enter Phidippus.
Phid. Soon as my wife perceiv'd
That I was going to my daughter's chamber,
She stole directly out o'doors. — But there
She stands. — Why, how now, Myrrhina?
Holo, I say! {^She affects not to see him.) >
Myrr. D'ye call me, husband?
Phid. Husband !
Am I your husband? am I ev'n a man?
For had you thought me to be either, woman,
You would not dare to play upon me thus.
Myrr. How !
Phid. How? — My daughter has been brought to bed.
— ^Ha ! are you dumb ? — By whom ?
Myer. Is that a question
Aa
554 THE STEP-MOTHER. [Act IV.
For you, who are her father, to demand?
Alas ! by whom d'ye think, unless her husband ?
Phid. So I believe : nor is it for a father
To suppose otherwise. But yet I wonder
That you have thus conceal'd her labor from us,
Especially as she has been delivcr'd
At her full time, and all is as it should be.
What ! Is there such perverseness in your nature,
As rather to desire the infant's death,
Than that his birth should knit the bond of friendship
Closer betwixt us ; rather than my daughter,
Against your liking, should remain the wife
Of Pamphilus ? 1 thought all this
Had been their fault, while you're alone to blame.
Myrr. How wretched am I!
Phid. Would to Heav'n you were !
— But now I recollect your conversation
When first we made this match, you then declar'd
You'd not endure she should remain the wife
Of Pamphilus, who follow'd mistresses,
And pass'd the nights abroad.
Myrr. I had much rather
He should think any renson than the true one. (Aside.}
PniD. I knew he kei-t a mistress ; knew it long
Ere you did, Myrrhina ; but I could never
Think that offense so grievous in a youth,
Seeing 'tis natural to them all: and soon
The time shall come when he'll stand self-reprov'd.
But you, perverse and willful as at first.
Could take no rest till you had brought away ^
Your daughter, and annull'd the match I made :
There's not a circumstance but loudly speaks
Your evil disposition to the marriage.
Myrr. D'ye think me then so obstinate, that I,
Who am her mother, should betray this spirit,
Granting the match were of advantage to us?
Phid. Is it for you then to foresee, or judge
What's of advantage to us? You perhaps
Have heard from some oflicious busy-body,
That they have seen him going to his mistress,
Or coming from her house : and what of that,
So it were done discreetly, and but seldom ?
Were it not better that we should dissemble
Our knowledge of it, than pry into things
Which to appear to know would make .him hate us?
For could he tear her from his heart at once,
To whom he'd been so many yeai's attach'd,
I should not think he Avcre a man, or likely
To prove a constant husband to my daughter.
Myrr. No more of Pamphilus or my offense ;
Since you will have it so! — Go, find him out;
Sc. IV.] THE STEr-I\IOTHER. 555
Confer with liim alone, and fairly ask him,
Will he, or no, take back rhilumena?
If he avows his inclination to't.
Restore her; but if he refuses it,
Allow, I've ta'cn good counsel for my child.
Phid. Grant, he should prove repugnant to the match,
Grant, you perceiv'd this in him, Myrrhina;
Was not I present! had not I a right •
To be consulted in't? — It makes me mad.
That you should dare to act without my order :
And I forbid you to remove the child
Out of this house. — But what a fool am I,
Enjoining her obedience to my orders!
I'll in, and charge the servants not to suffer
The infant to be carried forth. {Exit.
Scene III.
Myrrhina alone.
No woman more unhappy tlian myself:
For how he'd bear it, did he know the whole,
When he has taken such oftense at this,
Which is of much less consequence, is plain.
Nor by what means to reconcile him to it,
Can I devise. After so many ills,
This only misery there yet remain'd,
To be oblig'd to educate the child,
Ignorant of the father's quality.
For he, the cruel spoiler of her honor.
Taking advantage of the night and darkness,
My daughter was not able to discern
His person ; nor to force a token from him,
Whereby he might be aftenvard discover'd :
But he, at his departure, pluck'd by force
A ring from off her fmger. 1 fear too,
That Pamphilus will not contain himself,
Nor longer keep our secret, wlren he finds
Another's child acknowledg'd for his own. {Exit.
Scene IV.
SosTRATA, Pamphilus.
SoSTRA. Dear son, I'm not to learn that you suppose,
Though you dissemble your suspicions to me.
That my ill-humor caus'd your wife's departure.
But by my_ trust in Heav'n, and hopes in you,
I never knowingly did any thing
To draw her hatred and disgust upon me.
I always thought you lov'd me, and to-day
556 THE STEP-MOTHEK. [Act IV.
You have coufirm'd my faith : for even now
Your father has been telling me within,
How much you held me dearer than your love.
Now therefore, on my part, I am resolv'd
To equal you in all good offices ;
That you may know your mother ne'er withholds
The just rewards of filial piety ;
Finding it then both meet for your repose,
My Pamphilus, as well as my good name,
I have determin'd to retire directly
From hence into the country with your father;
So shall my presence be no obstacle,
Nor any cause remain, but that your wife
Return immediately.
Pam. What thoughts are these ?
Shall her perverseness drive you out of town ?
It shall not be : Nor will I draw, good mother,
That censure on me, that my obstinacy,
Not your good-nature, was the cause. — Besides,
That you should quit relations, friends, diversions,
On my account, I can't allow.
SosTRA. Alas!
Those things have no allurements for me now.
While I was young, and 'twas the season for them,
I had my share, and I am satisfied.
'Tis now my chief concern to make my age
Easy to all, that no one may regret
My lengthen'd life, nor languish for my death.
Here, although undeservedly, I see
My presence odious : I had best retire :
So shall I best cut off all discontent.
Absolve myself from this unjust suspicion.
And humor them. Permit me then to shun
The common scandal thrown upon the sex.
Pam. How fortunate in every thing but one,
Having so good a mother, — such a wife !
SosTRA. Patience, my Pamphilus! Is't possible
You can't endure one inconvenience in her?
If in all else, as I believe, you like her.
Dear son, be rul'd by me, and take her home !
Pam. Wretch that I am!
SosTRA. And I am wretched too:
For this grieves me, my son, no less than you.
Scene V.
Enter Laches.
Lach. I have been standing at a distance, wife.
And overheard your conversation with him.
You have done wisely to subdue your teijiper,
Sc. VI.] THE STEP-MOTHER. 557
And freely to comply with what, perhaps,
Hereafter' must be done.
SosTRA, And let it be!
Lach. Now then retire with me into thQ country :
There I shall bear with you, and you with me.
SosTRA. I hope Ave shall.
Lach. Go in then, and pack up
The necessaries you would carry with you.
Away !
SoSTRA. I shall obey your orders. (^Exit.
Pam. Father!
Lach. Well, Pamphilus?
Pam. My mother leave the town ?
By no means.
Lach. Why?
Pam. Because I'm yet imcertain
What I shall do about my wife.
Lach. How's that?
What would you do but take her home again?
Pam. 'Tis what I wish for, and can scarce forbear it.
But I'll not alter what I first design'd.
What's best I'll follow : and I'm well convinc'd
That there's no other way to make them friends,
But that I should not take her home again.
Lach. You don't know that : but 'tis of no importance
Whether they're friends or not, when Sostrata
Is gone into the country. We old folks
Are odious to the young. We'd best retire.
In short, we're grown a by-word, Pamphilus,
*' The old man and old woman." — But I see
Phidippus coming in good time. Let's meet him!
Scene VI.
Enter Phidippus.
Phid. (to Philtimena within). I'm angry with you — 'fore
Heaven, very angry,
Philumena! — You've acted shamefully.
Though you indeed have some excuse for't, seeing
Your mother urg'd you to't; but she has none.
Lach. You're come upon us in good time, Phidippus;
Just in the time we wanted you.
Phid. What now?
Pam. What answer shall I give them ! how explain ?
(Aside.')
Lach. Inform your daughter, Sostrata will hence
Into the country ; so Philumena
Need not dread coming home again.
Phid. Ah, friend !
Your wife has never been in fault at all :
558 THE STEP-MOTHER. [Act IV.
All this lias sprung from my wife Myrrhina.
The case is alter'd. She confounds us, Laches.
Pam. So that I may not take her home again,
Confound affairs who will ! (Aside.)
PiiiD. I* Pamphilus,
Would fain, if possible, make this alliance
Perpetual between our families.
But if you can not like it, take the child.
Pam. He knows of her delivery. Confusion ! {Aside.)
Lach. The child! what child?
Phid. We've got a grandson, Laches.
For when my daughter left your house, she was
With child, it seems, although I never knew it
Before this very day.
Lach. 'Fore Heav'n, good news !
And I rejoice to hear a child is born,
And that your daughter had a safe delivery.
But what a woman is your wife, Phidippus?"
Of what a disposition ? to conceal
Such an event as tliis ? I can't express
How much I think she was to blame.
Phid. This pleases me no more than you, good Laches.
Pam. Although my mind was in suspense before,
My doubts all vanish now. Fll ne'er recall her,
Since she brings home with her another's child. (Aside.)
Lach. There is no room for choice now, Pamphilus.
Pam. Confusion I {Aside.)
Lach. We've oft wish'd to see the day
When you should have a child to call you father.
That day's now come. The Gods be thank'd!
Pam. Undone! (Aside.)
Lach. Recall your Avife, and don't oppose my will.
Pam. If she had wish'd for children by me, father,
Or to remain my wife, I'm very sure
She never would have hid this matter from me:
But now I see her heart divorc'd from me,
And think we never can agree hereafter,
Wherefore should I recall her?
Lach. A young woman
Did as her mother had persuaded her.
Is that so wonderful? and do 3'ou think
To find a woman without any fault?
— Or is't because the 7nen are ne'er to blame? {Ironically.)
Phid. Consider with yourselves then, gentlemen,
Whether you'll part with her, or call her home.
What my wife does, I can not helj), you know.
Settle it as you please, you've my consent,
But for tlie child, what shall be done with him?
Lach. A pretty question truly ! come what may,
Send his own bantling liome to him of course,
That we may educate liini.
Sc. VI.J THE STEP-MOTIIEK. 559
F\M. When his own
Father abandons him, I educate him ?
Lach. What said you ? how ! not educate him, say you ?
Shall we expose him rather, Pampliikis?
What madness is all this? — My breath and blood!
I can contain no longer. You obHge me
To speak, against my will, before Phidippus :
Think you I'm ignorant whence flow those tears?
Or why you're thus disorder'd and distress'd ?
First, when you gave as a pretense, you could not
Recall your ivife from reverence to your mother,
She promis'd to retire into the country.
But now, since that excuse is taken from you.
You've made lier -private lying-in another.
You are mistaken if you think me blind
To your intentions — That you might at last
Bring home your stray affections to your wife,
How long a time to wean you from your mistress
Did I allow? your wdld expense upon her
How patiently I bore? I press'd, entreated,
That you would take a wife. 'Twas time, I said.
At my repeated instances, you married.
And, as in duty bound to do, complied:
But now your heart is gone abroad again
After your mistress, whom to gratify.
You throw this wanton insult on your wife.
For I can plainly see you are relaps'd
Into your former life again.
Pam. Me?
Lacii. You.
And 'tis base in you to invent false causes
Of quarrel with your wife, that you may live
In quiet with your mistress, having put
This witness from you. This your wife perceiv'd.
For was thei*e any other living reason
Wherefore she should depart from you?
PiiiD. He's right.
That was the very thing.
Fam. I'll take my oath
'Twas none of those that you have mcntion'd.
Lacii. Ah!
Recall your wife: or tell me why you will not.
Pam. 'Tis not convenient now.
Lacii. Take home the child then ;
For he at least is not in fault. I'll sec
About the mother afterward.
Pam. (to himself). Ev'ry way
I am a wretch, nor know I what to do:
My father has me in the toils, and I,
By struggling to get loose, am more entangled.
I'll hence, since ju-esent I shall profit little.
560 THE STEP-MOTHER. [Act IV.
For I believe they'll hardly educate
The child against my will ; especially
Seeing my step-mother will second mc. (Exit.
SCKXE VII.
Manent Piiidippus, Laches.
Lach. Going? how's that? and give me no plain answer!"
— ^D'ye think he's in his senses ? — Well — send home
The child to me, Phidippus. I'll take care on't.
Phid. I will. — I can not wonder that my wife
Took this so ill. Women are passionate,
And can't away with such affronts as these.
This vras their quarrel: nay she told me so,
Though before him I did not care to speak on't :
Nor did I credit it at first ; but now
'Tis evident, and I can plainly see
He has no stomach to a wife.
Lach. Phidippus,
How shall I act ? What's your advice ?
Phid. How act?
I think 'twere best to seek this wench, his mistress.
Let us expostulate the matter with her,
Speak to her roundly, nay, e'en threaten her,
If she has aught to do with him hereafter.
Lach. I'll follow your advice. — Ho, boy! [Enter a hoy) run
over
To Bacchis. Tell her to come forth to mc. (Exit hoy,
— I must beseech you also to continue
Your kind assistance to me in this business.
Phid. Ah, Laches ! I have told you all along.
And I repeat it now, that 'tis my wish
To render our alliance firm and lasting,
If possible, as I have hopes it will be.
— But would you have me present at your conference
With Bacchis?
Lach. No ; go, seek the child a nurse.
{Exit Phidippus.
Scene VIIL
Enter Bacchis attended hy her Women.
Bacch. {to herself). 'Tis not for nothing Laches wants to
see me ;
And, or I'm much deceiv'd, I guess the cause.
Lach. {to himself). I must take care my anger don't trans-
port me
Beyond the bounds of prudence, which may hinder
My gaining my design on her, and urge me
Sc. VIII.] THE STEP-MOTHER. 561
To do what I may afterward repent.
I'll to her.— (Goinff vp.) Save you, Bacchis!
Bacch. Save you, Laches!
Lach. Bacchis, I do not doubt but you're surpris'd
That I should send the boy to call you forth.
Bacch. Aye, and I'm fearful too, when I reflect
Both who and what I am : lest my vocation
Should prejudice me in your good opinion.
My conduct I can fully justify.
Lach. If you speak truth, you're in no danger, woman.
For I'm arriv'd at that age when a trespass
Would not be easily forgiven in me.
Wherefore I study to proceed with caution,
And to do nothing rashly. If you act.
And will continue to act honestly,
It were ungenerous to do you wrong.
And seeing you deserve it not, unjust.
Bacch. Truly, this conduct asks my highest thanks ;
For he who does the wrong, and then asks pardon,
Makes but a sorry reparation for it.
But what's your pleasure?
Lach. You receive the visits
Of my son Pamphilus
Bacch. Ah!
Lach. Let me speak.
Before he married I endur'd your love.
— Stay ! I've not finish'd all I have to say. —
He is now married. You then, while 'tis time.
Seek out another and more constant friend.
For he will not be fond of you forever.
Nor you, good faith, forever in your bloom.
Bacch. Who tells you that I still receive the visits
Of Pamphilus?
Lach. His step-mother.
Bacch. I?
Lach. You.
And therefore has withdrawn her daughter: therefore
Meant secretly to kill the new-born child.
Bacch. Did I know any thing, to gain your credit,
More sacred than an oath, I'd use it. Laches,
In solemn protestation to assure you
That I have had no commerce with your son
Since he was married.
Lach. Good girl ! but dy'e know
What I would farther have you do ?
Bacch. Inform me.
Lach. Go to the women here, and offer them
The same oath. Satisfy their minds, and clear
Yourself from all reproach in this.
Bacch. I'll do't.
Although I'm sure no other of my calling
Aa2
562 THE STEP-MOTHER. [Act IV., Sc. IX.
Would show herself before a married woman
Upon tlie same occasion. — But it hurts me
To see your son suspected on false grounds ;
And that, to those who owe him better thoughts,
His conduct should seem light. For he deserves
All my best offices.
Lach. Your conversation has much wrought upon me,
Gain'd my good-will, and alter'd my opinion.
For not the women only thought thus of you.
But I believ'd it too. Now therefore, since
I've found you better than my expectation',
Prove still the same, and make my friendship sure.
If otherwise — But I'll contain myself. I'll not
Say any thing severe. — But I advise you,
Rather experience what a friend I am,
Than what an enemy.
Bacch. I'll do my best.
Scene IX.
Enter Piiidippus and a Nurse.
Phid. {to the Nurse). Nay, you shall want for nothing at my
house ;
I'll give you all that's needful in abundance ;
But when you've eat and drank your fill yourself,
Take care to satisfy the infant too.
Lach. I see the father of Philumena
Coming this way. He brings the child a nurse.
— Phidippus, Bacchis swears most solemnly —
Phid. Is this she?
Lach. Aye.
Phid. They never mind the Gods,
Nor do I think the Gods mind them.
Bacch. Here are
My waiting- women : take them, and extort
By any kind of torment the truth from them.
— Our present business is, I take it, this :
That I should win the wife of Pamphilus
To return home ; which so I but effect,
I sha'n't regret the same of having done
What others of my calling would avoid.
Lach. Phidippus, we've discover'd that in fact
We both suspected our wives wrongfully.
Let's now try her : for if your wife perceives
Her own suspicions also are unjust,
She'll drop her anger. If my son's offended
Because his wife conceal'd her labor from him,
That's but a trifle ; he'll be soon appeas'd.
— And truly I see nothing in this matter
That need occasion a divorce.
Act v., Sc. I.} THE STEP-MOTHER. 563
Phid. Tore Heaven,
I wish that all may end well.
Lach. Here she is :
Examine her ; she'll give you satisfaction. ^"^^
Phid. What needs all this to Me! You know my mind
Already, Laches : do but make them easy.
Lach. Bacchis, be sure you keep your promise with me.
Bacch. Shall I go in then for that purpose?
Lach. Aye.
Go in ; remove their doubts, and satisfy them.
Bacch. I will ; although I'm very sure my presence
Will be unwelcome to them ; for a wife.
When parted from her husband, to a mistress
Ig a sure enemy.
Lach. They'll be your friends.
When once they know the reason of your coming.
Phid. 'Aye, aye, they'll be your friends, I promise you,
When they once learn your errand; for you'll free
Them from mistake, yourself from all suspicion.
Bacch. Fm cover'd with confusion. I'm ashara'd
To see Philumena. — (Jo her women.) You two in after me.
(Exeunt Phidippus, Bacchis, etc.
Laches alone.
What is there that could please me more than this,
That Bacchis, without any loss, should gain
Favor from them, and do me service too?
For if she really has withdrawn herself
From Pamphilus, it will increase, she knows,
Her reputation, interest, and honor:
Since by this generous act she will at once
Oblige my son, and make us all her friends. (Exit.
ACT THE FIFTH.
Scene I.
Parmexo alone.
V faith my master holds my labor cheap.
To send me to the Citadel for nothing.
Where I have waited the whole day in vain
For his Myconian, Callidemides.
Thei'e was I sitting, gaping like a fool,
And running up, if any one appear'd,
— "Are you. Sir, a Myconian?" "No, not I."-
— "But your name's Callidemides?" "Not it.'
"And have not you a guest here of the name
564 THE STEP-MOTHER. [Act V.
Of Pami)hilus ?" — All answer'd, No.
In short, I don't believe there's such a man.
At last I grew asham'd, and so sneak'd off.
— Bxit is't not Bacchis that I see come forth
From our new kinsman? What can she do there?
Scene II.
Enter Bacchis.
Bacch. Oh Parmeno, I'm glad I've met with you.
Run quick to Pamphilus.
Par. On what account ?
Bacch. Tell him that I desire he'd come.
Par. To you?
Bacch. No; to Philumena.
Par. Why? what's the matter?
Bacch. Nothing to you; so ask no questions.
Par. Must I
Say nothing else?
Bacch. Yes ; tell him too,
That Myrrhina acknowledges the ring,
Which formei'ly he gave me, as her daughter's.
Par. I understand you. But is that all?
Bacch. All.
He'll come the moment that you tell him that.
What! do you loiter?
Par. No, i' faith, not I.
I have not had it in my pow'r, I've been
So bandied to and fro, sent here and there,
Trotting, and running up and down all day. (Exit.
Scene III.
Bacchis alone.
What joy have I procur'd to Pamphilus
By coming here to-day! what blessings brought him I
And from how many sorrows rescued him!
His son, by his and their means nearly lost,
I've sav'd; a wife he meant to put away,
I have restor'd ; and from the strong suspicions
Of Laches and Phidippus set him free.
— Of all these things the ring has been the cause.
For I remember, near ten months ago.
That he came running home to me one evening,
Breathless, alone, and much inflam'd with wine,
Bringing this ring. I was alarm'd at it.
*' Prithee, my dearest Pamphilus, said I,
Whence comes all this confusion? whence this ring?
Tell me, my love." — He put me off at first :
Sc. IV.] TJIE STEP-MOTHER. 565
Perceiving this, it made me apprehend
Something of serious import, and I urg'd him
Moi-e earnestly to tell me. — He confess'd
That, as he came along, he had committed
A rape upon a virgin — whom he knew not —
And as she struggled, forc'd from her that ring:
Which Myrrhina now seeing on my finger.
Immediately acknowledg'd, and inquir'd
How I came by it. I told all this story:
Whence 'twas discover'd that Philumena
Was she who had been ravish'd, and the child
Conceiv'd from that encounter. — That I've been
The instrument of all these joys I'm glad,
Though other courtesans would not be so ;
Nor is it for our profit and advantage
That lovers should be happy in their marriage.
But never will I, for my calling's sake.
Suffer ingratitude to taint my mind.
I found him, while occasion gave him leave.
Kind, pleasant, and good-humor'd : and this marriage
Happen'd unluckily, I must confess.
Yet I did nothing to estrange his love;
And since I have receiv'd much kindness from him,
'Tis fit I should endure this one affliction.
Scene IV.
Enter at a distance Pamphilus and Parmeno.
Pam. Be sure you prove this to me, Parmeno;
Prithee, be sure on't. Do not bubble me
With false and short-liv'd joy.
Par. 'Tis even so.
Pam. For certain?
Par. Aye, for certain.
Pam. I'm in heaven,
If this be so.
Par. You'll find it very true.
Pam. Hold, I beseech you. — I'm afraid I think
One thing, while you relate another.
Par. Well?
Pam. You said, I think, "that Myrrhina discover'd
The ring on Bacchis' finger was her own."
Par. She did.
Pam. "The same I gave her formerly.
— And Bacchis bade you run and tell me this."
Is it not so ?
Par. I tell you, Sir, it is.
Pam. Who is more fortunate, more bless'd than I?
— What shall I give you for this news ? what ? what ?
I don't know.
oGG THE STEP-MOTHER. [Act V.
Par. But I know.
Pam. What? •
Pak. Just nothing.
For I see nothing of advantage to yon,
Or in the message, or myself.
Pam. Shall I
Permit you to go unrewarded ; you,
Who have restor'd me ev'n from death to life ?
Ah, Parmeno, d'ye think me so ungrateful ?
— But yonder's Bacchis standing at the door.
She waits for me, I fancy. I'll go to her.
Bacch. (^seeing him), Pamphilus, save you
Pam. Bacchis ! my dear Bacchis !
My guardian ! my protectress !
Bacch. All is well :
And I'm o'erjoy'd at it.
Pam. Your actions speak it.
You're still the charming girl I ever found you.
Your presence, company, and conversation.
Come where you will, bring joy and pleasure with them.
Bacch. And you, in faith, are still the same as ever.
The sweetest, most engaging man on earth.
Pam. Ha ! ha ! ha ! that speech from you, dear Bacchis ?
Bacch. You lov'd your Avife with reason, Pamphilus :
Never that I remember, did I see her
Before to-day; and she's a charming woman.
Pam. Speak truth.
Bacch. So Heaven help me, Pamphilus !
Pam. Say, liaAC you told my father any part
Of this tale ?
Bacch. Not a word.
Pam. Nor is there need.
Let all be hush ! I would not have it here,
As in a comedy, where every thing
Is known to every body. Here those persons
Whom it concerns already know it ; they.
Who 'twere not meet should know it, never shall.
Bacch. I promise you it may with ease be hid.
Myrrhina told Phidippus that my oath
Convinc'd her, and she held you clear.
Pam. Good ! good !
All will be well, and all, I hope, end well.
Par. May I know, Sir, Avhat good I've done to-day?
And what's the meaning of your conversation ?
Pam. No.
Par. I suspect, however. — " I restore him
From death to life" which way?
Pam. Oh, Parmeno,
You can't conceive the good you've done to-day;
From what distress you have deliver'd me.
Par. Ah, but I know, and did it with design.
Sc. IV.] THE STEP-MOTHEK. 567
Pam. Oh, I'm convinced of that. {Ironically.)
Par. Did Pavmcno
Ever let slip an opportunity
Of doing what he ought, Sir ?
Pam. Parmeno,
In after me !
Par. I follow. — By my troth,
I've done more good to-day, without design^
Than ever with design in all my life. —
Clap your hands !
P H 0 R M I 0.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Prologue.
Demipho.
Chremes.
Antipho.
Ph^dria.
Cratinus.
Crito.
Hegio.
Phormio.
Dorio.
Geta.
f Davus, and other Servants.
Nausistrata.
Sophrona.
Scene, Athens.
PROLOGUE.
The Old Bard finding it impossible
To draw our Poet from the love of verse,
And bury him in indolence, attempts
By calumny to scare him from the stage ;
Pretending that in all his former plays
The characters are low, and mean the style ;
Because he ne'er describ'd a mad-brain'd youth,
Who in his fits of frenzy thought he saw
A hind, the dogs in full cry after her ;
Her too imploring and beseeching him
To give her aid. — But 'did he understand
That, when the piece was first produc'd, it ow'd
More to the actor than himself its safety.
He would not be thus bold to give oflfense.
— ^But if there's any one who says, or thinks,
" That had not the Old Bard assail'd him first,
Our Poet could not have devis'd a Prologue,
Having no matter for abuse ;" — let such
Receive for answer, "that although the prize
To all advent'rers is held out in common.
The Veteran Poet meant to drive our Bard
From study into want : He therefore chose
To answer, though he would not first ofi*end.
And had his adversary but have prov'd
A generous rival, he had had due praise ;
Let him then bear these censures, and reflect
Act L, Sc. IL] PHORMIO. 569
Of his own slanders 'tis the due return.
But henceforth I shall cease to speak of him,
Although he ceases not himself to rail."
But now what I'd request of you, attend :
To-day I bring a new play, which the Greeks
Call Epidicazomenos ; the Latins,
From the chief character, name Phormio :
Phormio, whom you will find a parasite,
And the chief engine of the plot. — And now,
If to our Poet you are well inclin'd.
Give ear ; be favorable ; and be silent !
Let us not meet the same ill fortune now
That we before encounter'd, when our troop
Was by a tumult driven from their place ;
To which the actor's merit, seconded
By your good-will and candor, has restor'd us.
ACT THE FIRST.
Scene I.
Davus alone.
Geta, my worthy friend and countryman,
Came to me yesterday : for some time past
I've ow'd him some small balance of account :
This he desir'd I would make up : I have ;
And brought it with me : for his master's son,
I am inform'd, has lately got a wife :
So I suppose this sum is scrap'd together
For a bride-gift. Alack, how hard it is
That he, who is already poor, should still
Throw in his mite to swell the rich man's heap !
What he scarce, ounce by ounce, from short allowance,
Sorely defrauding his own appetite.
Has spar'd, poor wretch ! shall she sweep all at once,
Unheeding with what labor it was got ?
Geta, moreover, shall be struck for more ;
Another gift, when madam's brought to bed ;
Another too, when master's birthday's kept.
And they initiate him. All this mamma
Shall carry off, the bantling her excuse.
But is that Geta?
Scene II.
Enter Geta.
Geta (at entering). If a red-hair'd man
Inquire for me
;70 PHORMIO. [Act I.
Davus. No more ! he's here.
Geta. Oh, Davus !
The very man that I was going after.
Davus. Here, take this! {Cives a purse.) 'Tis all told:
you'll find it right ;
The sum I ow'd you.
Geta. Honest, worthy Davus !
I thank you for your punctuality.
Davus. And well you may, as men and times go now,
Things, by my troth, are come to such a pass,
If a man pays you Avhat he owes, you're much
Beholden to him. — But, pray, why so sad ?
Geta. I? — You can scarce imagine in what dread.
What danger I am in.
Davus. How so ?
Geta. I'll tell you,
So you will kepp it secret.
Davus. Away, fool !
The man whose faith in money you have tried.
D'ye fear to trust with words ? — And to what end
Should I deceive you?
Geta. List, then !
Davus. I'm all ear.
Geta. D'ye know our old man's elder brother, Chremes ?
Davus. Know him ? aye, sure.
Geta. You do ? — And his son Phrcdria ? '
Davus. As well as I know you.
Geta. It so fell out,
Botli the old men were forc'd to journey forth
At the same season. He to Lemnos, ours
Into Cilicia, to an old acquaintance
Who had decoy'd the old curmudgeon thither
By wheedling letters, almost promising
Mountains of gold.
Davus. To one that had so much
More than enough already ?
Geta. Prithee, peace !
Money's his passion.
Davus. Oh, would I had been
A man of fortune, I !
Geta. At their departure.
The two old gentlemen appointed me
A kind of governor to both their sons.
Davus. A hard task, Geta !
Geta. Troth, I found it so.
My angry Genius for my sins ordain'd it.
At first I took upon me to oppose :
In short, while I was trusty to th' old man.
The young one made my shoulders answer for it.
Davus'. So I suppose : for what a foolish task
To kick agninst the pricks ! •
Sc. II.] PHORMIO. 571
Geta. I then resolv'd
To give them their own way in every thing.
Davds. Aye, then you made your market.
Geta. Our young spark
Play'd no mad pranks at first : but Phoidria
Got him immediately a music-girl :
Fond of her to distraction ! she bclong'd
To a most avaricious, sordid ])imp ;
Nor had we aught to give ; — th' old gentleman
Had taken care of that. Naught else remain'd,
Except to feed his eyes, to follow her,
To lead her out to school, and hand her home.
We too, for lack of other business, gave
Our time to Ph^edria. Opposite the school,
Whither she went to take her lessons, stood
A barber's sliop, Avherein most commonly
We waited her return. Hither one day
Came a young man in tears : we were amaz'd,
And ask'd the cause. Never (said he, and wept)
Did I suppose the weight of poverty
A load so sad, so insupportable,
As it appear'd l)ut now. — I saw but now,
Not far from hence, a miserable virgin
Lamenting her dead mother. Near the corpse
She sat ; nor friend, nor kindred, nor acquaintance,
Except one poor old woman, was there near
To aid the funeral. I pitied her :
Her beauty, too, was exquisite. — In short,
He mov'd us all : and Antipho at once
Cried, " Shall we go and visit her ?" — Why, aye,
"I think so," said the other; "let us go!"
" Conduct us, if you please." — ^^Ve went, arriv'd,
And saw her. — Beautiful she Avas indeed !
More justly to be reckon'd so, for she
Had no additions to set oft' her beauty.
Her hair dishevel'd, barefoot, woc-begone,
In tears, and miserably clad : that if
The life and soul of beauty had not dwelt
Within her very form, all these together
Must have extinguish'd it. — The spark, possess'd
Already with the music-girl, just cried,
" She's well enough." — But our young gentleman —
Davus. Fell, I suppose, in love.
Geta. In love, indeed.
But mark the end ! next day, away he goes
To the old woman straight, beseeching her
To let him have the girl. — " Not she, indeed !
Nor Avas it like a gentleman," she said,
"For him to think on't: She's a citizen.
An honest girl, and born of honest parents: —
If he would marry her indeed, by law
He might do that ; on no account, aught else."
572 PHORMIO. [Act I.
— Our spark, distracted, knew not what to do :
At once he long'd to marry her, at once
Dreaded his absent father.
Davus. Would not he,
Had he return'd, have giv'n consent?
Geta. To wed
A girl of neither family nor fortune ?
Never,
Davus. What then?
Geta. What then! There is a parasite,
One Phormio, a bold, enterprising fellow,
Who — all the Gods confound him ! —
Davus. What did he ?
Geta. Gave us the following counsel. — "There's a law
That orphan Girls should wed their next of kin,
Which law obliges too their next of kit}
To marry them. — I'll say that you're her kinsman,
And sue a writ against you. I'll pretend
To be her father's friend, and bring the cause
Before the judges. Who her father was.
Her mother who, and how she's your relation,
All this sham evidence I'll forge ; by which
The cause will turn entirely in my favor.
You shall disprove no title of the charge ;
So I succeed. — Your father will return ;
Prosecute me; — what then? — The girl's our own."
Davus. A pleasant piece of impudence!
Geta. It pleas'd
Our spark at least : he put it into practice ;
Came into court ; and he was cast ; and married,
Davus. How say you?
Geta. Just as you have heard.
Davus. Oh Geta,
What will become of you ?
Geta. I don't know, faith.
But only this I know, what'er chance brings,
I'll patiently endure.
Davus. Why, that's well said,
And like a man.
Geta. All my dependence is
Upon myself.
Davus. And that's the best.
Geta. I might
Beg one indeed to intercede for me.
Who may plead thus — "Nay, pardon him this oncel
But if he fails again, I've not a word
To say for him." — And well if he don't add,
"When I go hence e'en hang him!"
Davus. What of him.
Gentleman-usher to the music-girl?
How goes he on ?
Geta. So, so !
Sc. III.] PHORMIO. 573
Davus. He has not much
To give, perhaps. •
Geta. Just nothing, but mere hope.
Davus. His father too, is he return 'd?
Geta. Not yet.
Davus. Nor your old man, when do you look for him?
Geta. I don't know certainly : but I have heard
That there's a letter from him come to port,
Which I am going for.
Davus. Would you aught else
With me, good Geta? *
Geta. Nothing, but farewell ! (Exit Davus,
Ho, boy ! what, nobody at home ! (Enter hoy.^ Take this
And give it Dorcium. (Gives the Purse, and Exit.)
Scene HI.
Antipho, Ph^dria.
Ant. Is it come to this?
My father, Phaedria ! — my best friend ! — That I
Should tremble, when I think of his return!
When, had I not been inconsiderate,
I, as 'tis meet, might have expected him.
Phjed. What now?
Ant. Is that a question? and from you?
Who know the atrocious fault I have committed?
Oh, that it ne'er had enter'd Phormio's mind
To give such counsel! nor to urge me on.
In the extravagance of blind desire,
To this rash act, the source of my misfortunes!
I should not have possess'd her: that indeed
Had made me wretched some few days. — But then
This constant anguish had not torn my mind. —
Ph^d. I hear you.
Ant. — While each moment I expect
His coming to divorce me. *
Phjed. Other men.
For lack of what they love, are miserable ;
Abundance is your grievance. You're too rich
A lover, Antipho ! For your condition
Is to be wish'd and pray'd for. Now, by Heaven,
Might I, so long as you have done, enjoy
My love, it were bought cheaply with my life.
How hard my Igt, unsatisfied, unbless'd !
How happy yours, in full possession ! — One
Of lib'ral birth, ingenuous disposition,
And honest fame, without expense, you've got:
The wife, whom you desir'd ! — in all things bless'd,
But want the disposition to believe so.
Had you, like me, a scoundrel pimp to deal with,
574 ' PliOiiMIO. [Act I.
Then you'd, perceive — But sure 'tis in our nature
Never to be contented.
Ant. Now to me,
Phaedria, 'tis you appear the happy man.
Still quite at large, free to consider still,
To keep, pursue, or quit her: I, alas!
Have so entangled and perplex'd myself,
That I can neither keep nor let her go.
— "What now? isn't that our Geta, whom I see
Kunning this way ? — 'Tis he himself Ah met
Ho^ do I fear v/hat news he brings !
SCEXI3 IV.
Enter at a distance Geta, running.
Geta. Confusion !
A* quick thought, Geta, or you're quite undone,
So many evils take you unprepar'd ;
Which I know neither how to shun nor how
To extricate myself: for this bold stroke
Of ours can't long be hid.
Ant. What's this confusion?
Geta. Then I have scarce a moment's time to think.
My master is arriv'd.
Ant. What mischiefs tliat?
Geta. Who, wlien he shall have heard it, by what art
Shall I appease his anger? — Shall I speak?
'Twill irritate him, — Hold my peace? — enrage him. —
Defend myself? — impossible? — Oh, wretch!
Now for m.yself in pain, now Antipho
Distracts my mind. — But him I pity most ;
For him I fear; 'tis he retains me here:
For, were it not for him, I'd soon provide
For my own safety — aye, and be reveng'd
On the old graybeard — carry something off,
And show my master a light pair of heels.
Ant. What scheme to rob and run away is this?
Geta. But where shall I find Antipho? where seek him?
PHiED. He mentions you.
Ant. I know not what, but doubt
That he's the messenger of some ill news.
Pn^ED. Have you your wils?
Geta. I'll home : he's chiefly there.
Pii^D. Let's call him back !
Ant. Holloa, you ! stop !
Geta. Heyday !
Authority enough, be who you will.
Ant. Geta!
Geta (tw-ning). Tlie very man I wish'd to meet!
Ant. Tell us, what news? — in one word, if you can.
Sc. IV.] PHORMIO. 575
Geta. I'll do it.
Ant. Speak!
Geta. This moment at the poit
Ant. My father?
Geta. Even so.
Ant. Undone!
PuiED. Heyday!
Ant. What shall I do?
Thjed. What say you? (To Geta.)
Geta. That I've seen
His father, Sir, — your uncle.
Ant. How shall I,
Wretch that I am ! oppose this sudden evil !
Should I be so unhappy to be torn
From tliee, my Phanium, life's not worth my care.
Geta. Since that's the case then, Antipho, you ought
To be the more upon your guard.
Ant. Alas!
I'm not myself.
Geta. But now j-ou should be most !?o, Antipho.
For if your father should discern your fear,
He'll think you conscious of a fault.
PHiED. That's true.
Ant. I can not help it, nor seem othenvise.
Geta. How would you manage in worse difficulties?
Ant. Since I'm not equal to bear this, to those
I should be more unequal.
Geta. This is nothing.
Pooh, Phasdria, let him go ! why vaistc our time ?
I will be gone. (Goinfj.)
Piled. And I. {Going. ^
Ant. Nav, pritlfte, stay !
Wliat if I should dissemble?— Will that do?
{Endeavoring to assume another air.
Geta. Ridiculous !
Ant. Nav, look at me! will that
Suffice ?
Geta. Not it.
Ant. Or this?
Geta. Almost.
Ant. Or this?
Geta. Aye! now you've hit it. Do but stick to that;
Answer him boldly; give him hit for dash,
Nor let him bear you down with angiy words.
Ant. I understand you.
Geta. "Forc'd" — " against your will" —
"By law" — "by sentence of the court" — d'ye take me?
— But what old gentleman is that I see
At t'other end o' th' street?
Ant, 'Tis he himself.
I dare not face him. (Going.)
176 PHORMIO. [Act I.
Geta. Ah ! what is't you do ?
Where d'ye run, Antipho! stay, stay, I say.
Ant. I know myself and my offense too well:
To you, then, I commend my life and love. (^Exit.
Scene V.
Manent Ph^dria and Geta.
Phjed. Geta, what now?
Geta. You shall be roundly chid ;
I soundly drubb'd; or I am much deceiv'd.
— But, what e'en now we counsel'd Antipho,
It now behooves ourselves to practice, Ph£edria.
Ph2ed. Talk not of what behooves, but say at once
What you would have me do.
Geta. Do you remember
The plea whereon you both agreed to rest.
At your first vent'ring on this enterprise?
"That Phormio'^ suit was just, sure, equitable,
Not to be controverted."
Ph^d. I remember.
Geta. Now then that plea! or, if it's possible,
One better or more plausible.
Ph^d. I'll do't.
Geta. Do you attack him first! I'll lie in ambush,
To reinforce you, if you give ground.
Phjed. Well. {They retire.)
Scene VI.
Enter Demipho at another part of the stage.
Dem. How's this? a wife ! what, Antipho! and ne'er
Ask my consent? — nor my authority
Or, grant we pass authority, not dread
My wrath at least? — To have no sense of shame?
— Oh, impudence! — Oh, Geta, rare adviser!
Geta. Geta at last.
Dem. What they will say to me,
Or what excuse they will devise, I wonder.
Geta. Oh, we have settled that already: think
Of something else.
Dem. Will he say this to me,
— "Against my will I did it" — "Forc'd by law" —
— I hear you : I confess it.
Geta. Very well.
Dem. But conscious of the fraud, without a word
In answer or defense, to yield the cause
Tamely to your opponents — did the law
Force you to that too?
Sc. VI.] PHORMIO. 577
Ph^d. That's home.
Get A. Give me leave .
I'll manage it.
De3I. I know not what to do :
This stroke has come so unawares upon me,
Beyond all expectation, past belief.
— I'm so enrag'd, I can't compose ray mind
To think upon it. — Wherefore ev'ry man,
When his affairs go on most swimmingly,
Ev'n then it most behooves to arm himself
Against the coming storm: loss, danger, exile,
Returning ever let him look to meet;
His son in fault, wife dead, or daughter sick —
All common accidents, and may have happen'd ;
That nothing should seem new or strange. But if
Aught has fall'n out beyond his hopes, all that
Let him account clear gain.
Geta. Oh, Pli£edria,
'Tis wonderful how much a wiser man
I. am than my old master. My misfortunes
I have consider'd well. — At his return
Doom'd to grind ever in the mill, beat, chain' d.
Or set to labor in the fields ; of these
Nothing will happen new. If aught falls out
Beyond my hopes, all that I'll count clear gain.
— 'But why delay t'accost th' old gentleman,
And speak him fair at first ? (Ph^dria goes forward^
Dem. Methinks I see
My nephew Phasdria.
Pii.ED. My good Uncle, welcome!
Dem. Your servant! — But where's Antipho?
Ph^d. I'm glad
To see you safe
De3I. Well, well ! — But answer mc.
Ph^d. He's well: hard by. — But have affairs turn'd out
According to your wishes?
Dem. Would they had!
PHiED. Why, what's the matter?
Dem. Vv^hat's the matter, Phasdria?
You've clapp'd up a fine marriage in my absence.
Ph^d. What! are you angry with him about that?
Geta. Well counterfeited!
Dem. Should I not be angry?
Let me but set eyes on him, he shall knovv-
That his offenses have converted me
From a mild father to a most severe one.
Ph^d. He has done nothing, Uncle, to offend you.
Dem. See, all alike! the whole gang hangs together:
Know one, and you know all.
Ph^d. Nay, 'tis not so.
Dem. One docs a fault, the other's hard at hand
Bb
578 PHORMIO. [Act 1., Sc. VI.
To bear liim out: when t'other slips, he's ready:
Each in their turn !
Geta. I' faith th' old gentleman
Has blunder'd on their humors to a hair.
Dem. If 'twere not so, you'd not defend him, Pha^dria.
Pii^D, If, Uncle, Antipho has done a wrong,
Or to his interest or reputation,
I am content he sufter as he may:
But if another, with malicious fraud,
Has laid a snare for unexperienced youth,
And triumph'd o'er it ; can you lay the blame
On us, or on the judges, who oft take
Through envy from the rich, or from compassion
Add to the poor?
Geta. Unless I knew the cause,
I should imagine this was truth he spoke.
Dem. What judge can knoAv the merits on your side,
When you put in no plea; as he has done?
Pii^D. He has bchav'd like an ingenuous youth.
When he came into court, he wanted pow'r
To utter what he had prepar'd, so much
He was abash'd by fear and modesty.
Geta. Oh brave ! — But why, without more loss of time,
Don't I accost th' old man! {Going tip.) My master, welcome!
I am rcjoic'd to sec you safe return'd.
Dem. What ! my good master Governor ! your slave !
The prop ! the pillar of our family !
To whom, at my departure hence, I gave
My son in charge.
Geta. I've heard you for some time
Accuse us all quite undeservedly.
And me, of all, most undeservedly.
For what could I have done in this affair?
A slave the laws will not allow to plead;
Nor can he be an evidence.
Dem. I grant it.
Nay more — the boy was bashful — I allow it.
— ^You but a slave. — But if she had been prov'd
Ever so plainly a relation, why
Needed he marry her? and why not rather
Give her, according to the law, a portion.
And let her seek some other for a husband?
Why did he rather bring a beggar home ?
Geta. 'Twas not the thought, but money that was wanting.
Dem. He might have borrow 'd it!
Geta. Have borrow'd it!
Easily said.
Dem. If not to be had else,
On interest.
Geta. Nay, now indeed you've hit it!
Who would advance him money in your life?
Act II., Sc. I.] PHORMIO. 579
Dem. Well, well, it shall not, and it can not be,
That I should suffer her to live with him
As wife a single day. There is no cause.
— Would I might see that fellow, or could tell
Where he resides!
Geta. What, Phormio !
Dem. The girl's Patron.
Geta. He shall be with you straight.
Dem. Where's Antipho ?
Pii^D. Abroad.
Dem. Go, Phajdria ; find him, bring him here.
PiiiED. I'll go directly. (Exit.
Geta (as'uW). Aye, to Pamphila. {Exit.
Scene VII.
Demipho alone.
I'll home, and thank the Gods for my return:
Thence to the Porum, and convene some friends.
Who may be present at this interview.
That Phormio may not take me unprepar'd. (Exit.
ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.
Phormio, Geta.
PiiOR. And Antipho, you say, has slunk away.
Fearing his father's presence?
Geta. Very true.
Phor. Poor Phanium left alone?
Geta. 'Tis even so.
Phor. And the old gentleman enrag'd !
Geta. Indeed.
Phor. The sum of all then, Phormio, rests on you:
On you, and you alone. You've bak'd this cake;
E'en eat it for your pains. About it then !
Geta. I do beseech you.
Phor. (to himself). What if he inquire? —
Geta. Our only hope's in you.
Phor. {to himself). I have it! — Then,
Suppose he offer to return the girl? —
Geta. You urg'd us to it.
Phor. (to himself). Aye ! it shall be so.
Geta, Assist us!
Phor. Let him come, old gentleman!
'Tis here: it is engender'd: I am arm'd
With all my counsels.
580 PHORMIO. [Act II.
Geta. What d'ye mean to do?
Phor. What Avould you have me do, unless contrive
That Phanium may remain, that Antipho
Be freed from blame, and all the old man's rage
Turn'd upon me?
Geta. Brave fellow ! friend indeed !
And yet I often tremble for you, Phormio,
Lest all this noble confidence of yours
End in the stocks at last.
Phok. Ah, 'tis not so.
I'm an old stager too, and know my road.
How many men d'ye think I've bastinadoed
Almost to death ? Aliens and citizens ? •
The oft'ner, still the safer. — Tell me then.
Didst ever hear of actions for assault
And batt'ry brought against me ?
Geta. How comes that?
Phor. Because the net's not stretch'd to catch the hawk,
Or kite, who do us wrong; but laid for those
Who do us none at all: In thcra there's profit,
In those mere labor lost. Thus other men
May be in danger who have aught to lose ;
I, the world knows, have nothing. — You will say.
They'll seize my person. — No, they won't maintain
A fellow of my stomach. — And they're wise,
In my opinion, if for injuries
They'll not return the highest benefit.
Geta. It is impossible for Antipho
To give you thanks sufficient.
Phor. Rather say,
No man sufficiently can thank his patron.
You at free cost to come ! anointed, bath'd,
Easy and gay ! while he's eat up with care
And charge, to cater for your entertainment!
He gnaws his heart, you laugh ; eat first, sit first.
And see a doubtful banquet plac'd before you!
Geta. Doubtful! what phrase is that?
Phor. Where you're in doubt.
What you shall rather choose. Delights like these
When you but think how sweet, how dear, they are;
Him that affbrds them must you not suppose
A very deity?
Geta. The old man's here.
Mind what you do ! the first attack's the fiercest :
Sustain but that, the rest will be mere play. {They retire.)
Scene II.
'Enter at a distance Demipho — Hegio, Cratinus, Crito, following.
Dem. Was ever man so grossly treated, think ye?
— This way, Sirs, I beseech you.
Sc. II.] PIIORMIO. 581
Geta. He's cnrag'd!
PnoR. Hist! mind your cue: I'll work him.
— {Comincj forward, and speaking loud.) Oh, ye Gods!
Does he deny that Phanium's his relation ?
What, Demipho! docs Demipho deny
That Phanium is his kinswoman ?
Geta. He does.
Phor. And who her father was, he does not know ?
Geta. No.
Dem. (to the Lawyers). Here's the very fellow, I believe,
Of whom I have been speaking. — Follow me !
Phor. {aloud). And that he does not know who Stilpho was ?
Geta. No.
Phor. Ah ! because, poor thing, she's left in want,
Her father is unknown, and she despis'd.
What will nol avarice do ?
Geta. If you insinuate
My master's avaricious, woe be to you !
Dem. {behind). Oh impudence! he dares accuse me first.
Phor. As to the youth, I can not take offense.
If he had not much knowledge of him ; since.
Now in the vale of years, in want, his work
His livelihood, he nearly alto'gether
Liv'd in the country: where he held a farm
Under my father. I have often heard
The poor old man complain that this his kinsman
Neglected him. — But what a man ! A man
Of most exceeding virtue.
Geta. Much at one:
Yourself and he you praise so much.
Phor. Away!
Had I not thought him what I've spoken of him,
I would not for his daughter's sake have drawn
So many troubles on our f^imily.
Whom tys old cuff now treats so scandalously.
Geta. What, still abuse my absent mastei-, rascal!
Phor. It is no more than he deserves.
Geta. How, villain !
Dem. Geta! {Calling.)
Geta. Rogue, robber, pettifogger ! ( 7o Piiormio p'-etend-
ing not to hear Demipho.)
Dem. Geta!
Phor. Answer. {Apart to Geta.)
Geta {turning). Wlio's that? — Oh!
Dem. Peace !
Geta. Behind your back
All day without cessation has this knave
Thrown scurvy terms upon you, such as none
^ But men like him can merit.
Dem. Well! have done.
{Putting Geta by, then addressing Piioitsrio.)
182 PHOEMIO. [Act IT.
Young mmi ! permit me first to ask one question.
And, if you please, vouchsafe to answer me.
— Who was this friend of yours ? Explain ! and how
Might he pretend that I was his relation?
PiiOR. So ! you fish for't, as if you did not know. {Sneer-
ingly.)
Dem. Know! I!
Phor. Aye; you.
Dem. Not I: You that maintain
I ought, instruct me how to recollect.
PiiOR. What! not acquainted with your cousin?
Dem. Plague!
Tell me his name.
Phor. His name? aye!
Dem. Well, why don't you?
Phor. Confusion ! I've forgot the name. {Apart.^
Dem. What say you?
Phor. Geta, if you remember, prompt me.
{Apart to Geta.) Pshaw,
I will not tell. — As if you did not know.
You're come to try me. {Loud to Demipho.)
Dem. How! try you?
Geta. Stilpho. {Whispering Phormio.) -
Phor. What is't to me? — Stilpho.
Dem. Whom say you?
Phor. Stilpho:
Did you know Stilpho, Sir?
Dem. I neither know him,
Nor ever had I kinsman of that name.
Phor. How! are you not asham'd? — But if, poor man,
Stilpho had left behind him an estate
Of some ten talents
Dem. Out upon you !
Phor. Then
You would have been the first to trace yourjine
Quite from your grandsire and great grandsire.
Dem. True.
Had I then come, I'd have explain'd at large
How she was my relation: so do you!
Say, how is she my kinswoman?
Geta. Well said!
Master, you're right. — Take heed ! {Apart to Phormio.)
Phor. I have explain'd
All that most clearly, where I ought, in court.
If it were false, why did not then vour son
Eefute it?
Dem. Do you tell me of my son ?
Whose folly can't be spoke of as it ought.
Phor. But you, who are so wise, go seek the judge :»
Ask sentence in the self-same cause again :
Because you're lord alone, and have alone
sc. II.] riKjKMia 583
Pow'r to obtiiiu judgment of the court
Twice in one cause.
Dem. Although I have been wrong'tl,
Yet, rather than engage in litigation,
And rather than hear you ; as if she were
Indeed related to us, as the law
Ordains, I'll pay her dowry : take her hence,
And with her take five minre.
Prion. Ha! ha! ha!
A pleasant gentleman !
Dem. Why, what's the matter?
Have I demanded any thing unjust?
Sha'n't I obtain this neither, which is "law?
rnos. Is't even so, Sir? — Like a common harlot.
When you've abus'djier, does the law ordain
That you should pay her hire and whisdc her off?
Or, lest a citizen through poverty
Bring shame upon her honor, does it order
That she be given to her next of kin
To pass her life with him? which you forbid.
Dem. Aye ; to her next of kin : But why to us ;
Or wherefore ?
Phor. Oh ! that matter is all settled :
Think on't no more.
Dem. Not think on't! I shall think
Of nothing else till there's an end of this.
PiiOR, Words, words !
Dem. I'll malie them good.
Phor. But, after all.
With you I have no business, Demipho!
Your son, is cast, not you : for at your age
The coupling-time is over.
Dem. Be assur'd
That all I've said he says : or I'll forbid
Him and this wife of his my house.
Geta. He's angry. (Apart.)
Phor. No; you'll think better on't.
Dem. Are you resolv'd,
Wretch that you are, to thwart me ev'ry way?
Phor. He fears, though he dissembles.) .
Geta. Well begun! > ^^'"'^•
Phor. Well ; but what can't be cur' J must be endurd :
'Tvvere well, and like yourself, that we were friends.
Dem. I! friend to you? or choose to see or hear you!
Phor. Do but agree with her, you'll have a girl
To comfort your old age. Your years, consider !
Dem. Plague on your comfort! take her to yourself!
Phor. Ah ! don't be angry !
Dem. One word more, I've done.
See that you fetch away this wench, and soon,
Or I shall turn her headlong out o'doors.
So much for r!)onnio!
584 PHORMIO. [Act II.
PiiOR. Offer but to touch her
In any other manner than beseems
A gentlewoman and a citizen,
And I shall bring a swinging writ against you.
So much for Dcmipho I — If I am wanted,
1 am at home, d'ye hear? (Apart to Geta.)
Geta. I understand. (Apart.) (Exit Piiormio.
Scene III.
Dem. With how much cai-e, and what solicitude,
My son affects me, with this wretched match
Having embroil'd himself and me ! nor comes
Into my sight, that I might know at least
Or what he says, or thinks of this affair.
Go you, and see if he's come home or no.
Geta. I'm gone. (Exit.
Dem. You see, Sirs, how this matter stands.
What shall I do ? Say, Hegio !
Hegio. Meaning me?
Cratinus, please you, should speak first*
Dem. Say then,
Cratinus !
Cra. Me d'ye question ?
Dem. You.
Cra. Then I,
Whatever steps arc best I'd have you take.
Thus it appears to me. Whate'er your son
lias in your absence done is null and void,
In law and equity. — And so you'll find.
That's my oi)inion.
Dem. Say now, Hegio !
Hegio. He has, I think, pronounc'd most learnedly.
But so 'tis: many men, and many minds!
Each has his fancy : Now, in my opinion,
Whate'er is done by law can't be undone.
'Tis shameful to attempt it.
Dem. Say you, Crito !
Crito. The case, I think, asks more deliberation.
'Tis a nice point.
Hegio. Would you aught else with us ?
Dem. You've utter'd oracles. (Exeunt Lawyers.) I'm more
uncertain
Now than I was before. •
Re-enter Geta.
Geta. He's not return'd.
Dem. My brother, as I hope, will soon arrive :
Whate'er advice he gives me, that I'll follow.
I'll to the Port, and ask when they expect him. (Exit.
Geta. And I'll go find out Antipho, and tell him
All that has pass'd. — But here he comes in time.
Sc. IV.] ^ PHOKMIO. 585
Scene IV.
Enter at a distance Antipho.
Ant. (to himself). Indeed, indeed, my Antipho,
You're much to blame, to be so poor in spirit.
What ! steal away so guilty-like ! and trust
Your life and safety to the care of others !
"Would they be touch'd more nearly than yourself?
Come what come might of ev'ry thing beside,
Could you abandon the dear maid at home ?
Could you so far deceive her easy faith,
And leave her to misfortune and distress?
Her, who plac'd all her hopes in you alone ?
Geta {coming forward). 1' faith. Sir, we have thought yon
much to blame
For your long absence.
Ant. You're the \;ery man
That I A\~as looking for.
Geta. But ne'ertheless
We've miss'd no opportunity.
Ant. Oh, speak!
How go my fortunes, Geta ? has my father
Any suspicion that I was in league
With Phormio?
Geta. Not a jot.
Ant. And may I hope?
Geta. I don't know.
Ant. Ah!
Geta. Unless that Pha^dria
Did all he could do for you. —
Ant. Nothing new.
Geta. — And Phormio has on all occasions else
Prov'd himself a brave fellow.
Ant. What did he ?
Geta. Out-swagger'd your hot father.
Ant. Well said, Phormio !
Geta. — I did the best I could too.
Ant, Honest Geta,
I am much bounden to you all.
Geta. Thus, Sir,
Stand things at present. As yet all is calm.
Your father means to wait your uncle's coming.
Ant. For what?
Geta. For his advice, as he pi-opos'd ;
By jvhich he will be rul'd in this affair.
Ant. How do I dread my uncle's coming, Geta.
Since by his sentence I must live or die !
Geta, But hei-e comes Phadria.
B B 2
586 PHORMIO. ^ [Act II.
Ant. Where?
Geta. From his old school. {They retire.')
Scene V.
Enter, from Dorio's, Dorio, Vii2EDm.x folloiving.
Ph^d. Na}^, hear me, Dorio!
Dorio. Not I.
Ph^d. But a word!
Dorio. Let me alone.
Ph^d. Pray hear me!
Dorio. I am tir'd
With hearing the same thing a thousand times.
Ph^ed. But what I'd say you would be glad to hear.
Dorio. Speak then ! I hear.
PuiED. Can't I prevail on you.
To stay but these three days? — Nay, where d'ye go?
Dorio. I should have wonder'd had you said aught new.
Ant. (behind). This pimp, I fear, will work himself no
good.
Geta. I fear so too.
PiiiED. Won't you believe me?
Dorio. Guess.
Phjed. Upon my honor.
Dorio. Nonsense.
Pn^ED. 'Tis a kindness
Shall be repaid with interest.
Dorio. Words, words!
PiiiED. You'll be glad on't; you will, believe me.
Dorio. PshaAv!
Ph^d. Try ; 'tis not long.
Dorio. You're in the same tune still.
Ph^d. My kinsman, pai'erit, friend !
Dorio. Aye, talk away.
Ph^d. Can you be so inflexible, so cruel,
That neither pity nor entreaties touch you?
Dorio. And can you be so inconsiderate.
And so unconscionable, Phsedria,
To think that you can talk me to your purpose,
And wheedle me to give the girl for nothing ?
Ant. (behind). Poor Phtedria!
Pii^D. (to himself). Alas ! he speaks the truth.
Geta (to Antipiio). How well they each support their char-
acters !
Ph^d. (to himself). Then that this evil should have come
upon me,
When Antipho was in the like distress !
Ant. (going vp). Ha ! what now, Phiedria ?
Ph^ed. Happy, happy Antipho !
Ant. I?
St. v.] niOKMIO. 587
ViiJET). Who have her you love in your possession,
Nor e'er had plagues like these to struggle with!
Ant. In my possession? yes, I have, indeed,
As the old saying goes, a wolf by th' ears :
For I can neither part with her nor keep her.
DoRio. 'Tis just my case with him.
Ant. (to DoEio). Thou thorough bawd !
(To PiiiEDRiA.) What has he done?
PiiiED. Done? — The inhuman wretch
Has sold my Pamphila.
Geta. What! sold her?
Ant. Sold her?
Ph^d. Yes ; sold her.
DoRio (laughing). Sold her. — Wliat a monstrous crime!
A wench he paid his ready money for.
Pii^D. I can't prevail upon him to wait for me,
And to stave off his bargain but three days;
Till I obtain the money from my friends,
According to their promise. — If I do not
Pay it you then, don't wait a moment longer.
DoRio. You stun me.
Ant. 'Tis a very little time
For which he asks your patience, Doric.
Let him prevail on you; your complai&iance
Shall be requited doubly.
DoKio. Words ; mere words !
Ant. Can ^ou then bear to see your Pamphila
Torn from this city, Phicdria? — Can you, Dorio,
Divide their loves?
Dorio. Nor I, nor you.
Geta. Plague on you !
Dorio (to Piledria). I have, against my natural disposition,
Borne witli you several months, still promising,
Whimpering, and ne'er performing any thing:
Now, on the contrary, I've found a spark,
Who'll prove a ready-paymaster, no sniveler :
Give place then to your betters !
Ant. Surely, Pha^dria,
There was, if I remember, a day settled
That you should pay the money down.
Ph^d. There was.
• Dorio. Do I deny it? .
Ant. Is the day past?
Dorio. No.
But this has come before it.
Ant. Infamous !
Ar'n't you asham'd of such base treachery?
Dorio. Not I, while I can get by't.
Geta. Scavenger !
Ph^d. Is this just dealing, Dorio?
Dorio. 'Tis my way :
So, if vo',1 ]i!.;c' lue, use me.
588 PIIORMIO. [Act IL, Sc. VI.
Ant. Can you deceive him thus ?
DoRio. Nay, Antipho,
'Tis he deceives me ; he was well aware
What kind of man I was, but I believ'd
Him difF'rent. He has disappointed me,
But I am still the same to him as ever.
However, thus much I can do for him ;
The Captain promis'd to pay down the money
To-morrow morning. But now, Phjedria,
If you come first, I'll follow my old rule,
"The first to pay shall be first serv'd." Farewell. {Exit.
SCEKE VI.
PiiiEDRiA, Antipho, Geta.
PHiEB. What shall I do? Unhappy that I am,
How shall I, who am almost Avorse than nothing,
Raise such a sum so suddenly ? — Alas !
Had I prevail'd on him to wait three days,
I had a promise of it.
Ant. Shall Ave, Geta,
Suffer my Phadria to be miserable?
My best friend Phaedria, who but now, you said,
Assisted me so heartily? — No — Rather
Let us, since there is need, return his kindness !
Geta. It is but just, I must confess. •
Ant. Come then ;
'Tis you alone can save him.
Geta. By what means?
Ant. Procure the money.
Geta. Willingly : but whence ?
Ant. My father is arriv'd.
Geta. He is : what then ?
Ant. a word to the wise, Geta !
Geta. Say you so ?
Ant. Ev'n so.
Geta. By Hercules, 'tis rare advice.
Are you there with me? will it not be triumph,
So I but 'scape a scouring for your match.
That you must urge me to run risks for him?
Ant. He speaks the truth, I must confess.
Ph^ed. How's that?
Am I a stranger to you, Geta?
Geta. No:
Nor do I liold you such. But is it nothing
That the old man now rages at us all,
Unless wc irritate him so much further
As to preclude all hopes to pacify him?
PiiiED. Shall then another bear her hence ? Ah me !
Now then, while I remain, speak to me, Antipho.
Behold me !
Act III., Sc. I.] PIIORMIO. 589
Ant. Wherefore ? what is it you mean ?
Ph^d. Wherever she's convey'd, I'll follow her;
Or perish.
Geta. Heaven prosper your designs ! —
Gently, Sir, gently !.
Ant. See if you can help him.
Geta. Help him! but how?
Ant. Nay, think, invent, devise;
Lest he do something we repent of, Geta!
Geta. I'm thinking. {Pausing.) — Well then I believe, he's
safe.
But I'm afraid of mischief.
Ant. Never fear:
We'll bear all good and evil fortune with you.
Geta. Tell me the sum you have occasion for.
Ph^d. But thirty minaj.
Geta. Thirty! monstrous, Phredria!
She's very dear,
Ph^d. Dog-cheap.
Geta. Well, say no more.
I'll get them for you.
Ph^d. O brave fellow!
Geta. Hence !
PHiED. But I shall want it now.
Geta. You'll have it now.
But Phormio must assist me in this business.
Ant. He's ready: lay what load you will upon him.
He'll bear it all ; for he's a friend indeed.
Geta. *Let's to him quickly then !
Ant. D'ye want my help?
Geta. We've no occasion for you. Get you home
To the poor girl, who's almost dead with fear;
And see you comfort her. — Away! d'ye loiter?
Ant. There's nothing I would do so willingly. {Exit.
Ph^d. But how will you effect this ?
Geta. I'll explain
That matter as we go along, — Away! {Exeunt.
ACT THE THIRD.
Scene I.
Enter Demipho and Chremes.
Dem. Well, Chremes, have you brought yoin* daughter with
you,
On whose account you went to Lemnos ?
Chrem. No.
Dem. Whv not ?
590 rilORMIO. [xicT III.
Chrem. It seems tlie mother, grow.i impatient,
Perceiving that I tarried here so long,
And that the girl's age brook'd not my delays,
Had journeyed here, they said, in search of me,
With her whole family.
Dem. Appris'd of this,
What kept you there so long then ?
Chrem. A disease.
Dem. How came it ? what disease ?
Chrem. Is that a question?
Old age itself is a disease. — However,
The master of the ship, who brought them over,
Inform'd me of their safe arrival higher.
Dem. Have you heard, Chremes, of my son's misfortuno
During my absence ?
Chrem. Aye ; and if confounds me.
For to another should I tender her,
I must relate the girl's whole history,
And whence arises my connection with her.
You I can trust as safely as myself:
But if a stranger courts alliance with me.
While we're new friends, he'll hold his peace perhaps,
But if he cools, he'll know too much of ine.
Then I'm afraid my wife should know of this ;
Which if she does, I've nothing else to do
But shake myself, and leave my house directly :
For I've no friend at home except myself.
Dem. I know it ; and 'tis that which touches me.
Nor are there any means I'll leave untried, *
Till I have made my promise to you good.
SCEXE II.
Enter, at another part of the stage, Geta.
Geta {to himself). I never saw a more shrewd rogue than
Phormio.
I came to let him know we wanted money.
With my advice for getting it ; and scarce
Had I related half, but he conceiv'd me.
He was o'erjoy'd ; commended me ; demanded
To meet with Demipho ; and thank'd the godj
That it was now the time to show himself
As truly Phsedri^'s friend as Antijiho's.
I bade him wait us at the Forum ; whither
I'd bring th' old gentleman. — And there he is !
— But who's the furthermost ? Ha ! Phasdria's father.
— Yet what was I afraid of, simpleton?
That I have got two dupes instead of one ?
Is it not better that my hopes are doubled?
— I'll attack him, I first propos'd. If he
tSc. JILJ PIIOKMIO. • 591
Answers my expectation, well : if not,
Why then have at you, uncle !
Scene III.
Enter behind, Antipho.
Ant. (to himself). I expect
Geta's arrival presently. — But see!
Yonder's my uncle with my father. — Ah !
How do I dread his influence!
Geta. I'll to them.
Oh, good Sir Chremes! {Going up.)
Chreji. Save you, save you, Geta!
* Geta. I'm glad to sec you safe arriv'd.
Chrem. I thank you.
Geta. •How go affairs ?
Chrem. A world of changes here,
As usual at first coming home again.
Geta. True. Have you heard of Antipho's affiiir ?
Chrem. The whole.
Geta (to Demipho). Did you inform him, Sir? — 'Tis mon-
strous, Chremes,
To be so shamefully impos'd upon!
Dem. 'Twas on that point I was just talking with him.
Geta. And I too, having turn'd it in my thoughts.
Have found, I think, a remedy.
Dem. How, Geta?
What remedy?
Geta. On leaving you, by chance
I met with Phormio.
Chrem. Who is Phormio?
Geta. The girl's solicitor,
Chrem, I understand.
Geta. I thought within myself, '' suppose I found him !"
And taking him aside, " Now prithee, Phormio,
Why don't you try to settle this affair
By fair means rather than by foul?" said I.
"My master is a generous gentleman,
And hates to go to law. For I assure you
His other friends advis'd him, to a man,
To turn this girl directly out o' doors."
Ant. (behind). What does he mean? or where will all this
end?
Geta. "The law, you think, will give you damages
If he attempts to turn her out. — Alas !
He has good counsel upon that. — I' faith,
Yoji'll have hot work if you engage with him ;
He's such an orator ! — But ev'n suppose
That you should gain your lawsuit, after all
The trial is not for his life, but money."
592 * PHORMIO. [Act III.
Perceiving him a little wrought upon,
And soften'd by this style of talking with him,
" Come now," continued I, " we're all alone.
Tell me, what money would you take in hand
To drop your lawsuit, take away the girl,
And trouble us no farther!"
Ant. {behind). Is he mad?
Geta. —"For I am well convinc'd, that if your ternis
Are not extravagant and wild indeed,
My master's such a worthy gentleman,
You will not change three words between vou."
Dem. Who
Commission'd you to say all this?
Chrem, Nay, nay.
Nothing could be more happy to effect
The point we labor at.
Ant. {behind). Undone!
Chrem. {to Geta). Go on.
Geta. At first he raA-'d.
Dem. Why, Avhat did he demand?
Geta. Too much : as much as came into his head.
Chrem. Well, but the sum?
Geta. He talk'd of a great talent.
Dem. Plague on the rascal ! what ! has he no shame ?
Geta. The very thing I said to him. — " Suppose
He was to portion out an only daughter,
What €Ould he give her more ? — He profits little,
Having no daughter of his own; since one
Is found to carry off" a fortune from him."
— But to be brief, and not to dwell upon
All his impertinences, he at last
Gave me this final answer. — " From the first,
I wish'd," said he, " as was indeed most fit.
To wed the daughter of my friend myself.
For I was well aware of her misfortune ;
That, being poor, she would be ratli/er given
In slavery, than wedlock, to the rich.
But I was forc'd, to tell you the plain truth.
To take a woman with some little fortune,
To pay my debts : and still, if Demipho
Is willing to advance as large a sum
As I'm to have with, one I'm now engag'd to,
There is no wife I'd rather take than her."
Ant. (behind). Whether through malice or stupidity,
He is rank knave or fool, I can not tell.
Dem. (Jo Geta). What, if he owes his soul?
Geta. "I have a farm,"
Continued he, "that's mortgag'd for ten minse."
Dem. Well, let him take her then : I'll pay the money.
Geta. "A house for ten more."
Dem. Huy ! huy ! that's too much.
Sc. IV.] PHORMTO. 593
CniiEM. Ino noise! demand those ten of nic.
Geta. "My wife
Must buy a maid; some little, furniture
Is also requisite ; and some 'expense
To keep our wedding : all these articles,"
Continues he, "we'll reckon at ten mino3."
Dem. No ; let him bring a thousand writs against me.
I'll give him nothing. What! afford the villain
An opportunity to laugh at me?
Chrem. Nay, but be pacified ! I'll pay the money.
Only do you prevail upon your son
To marry her whom we desire.
Ant. {beJdnd). Ah me!
Geta, your treachery has ruin'd me.
Chrem. She's put away on my account: 'tis j»tst
That I should pay the money.
Geta. "Let me know,"
Continues he, "as soon as possible,
"Whether they mean to have me marry her;
That I may part with t'other, and be certain.
For t'other girl's relations have agreed
To pay the portion down immediately."
Chrem. He shall be paid this too immediately.
Let him break off with her, and take this girl !
Dem. Aye, and the plague go with him !
Chrem. Luckily
It happens I've some money here ; the rents
Of my wife's farms at Lemnos. I'll take that ; {to Demipho)
And tell my wife that you had need of it. (Exeunt.
Scene IV.
Manent Antipho, Geta.
Ant. (coming forward). Geta !
Geta. Ha, Antipho!
Ant. "What have you done !
Geta. Trick'd the old bubbles of their money.
Ant. "Well,
Is that sufficient, think ye?
Geta. I can't tell.
'Twas all my orders.
Ant. Knave, d'ye shuffle with me? (Kick's him.)
Geta. Plague I what d'ye mean?
Ant. What do I mean. Sirrah!
You've driven me to absolute perdition.
All pow'rs of heav'n and hell confound you for't.
And make you an example to all villains!
— Here ! would you have your business duly manag'd,
Commit it to this fellow !— What could be
More tender than to touch upon this sore,
;0 1- PHORMIO. [Act IH.
Or even name my wife? my father's fill'd
With hopes that she may be dismiss'd. — And tlien,
If Phormio gets the money for the portion,
lie, to be sure, must marry her. — And what
Becomes of me then?
Geta." He'll not marry her.
Ant. Oh, no : but when they rcdemand the money,
On my account he'll rather go to jail ! {Ironically.')
Geta. Many a tale is spoiled in telling, Antipho.
You take out all the good, and leave the bad.
— Now hear the other side — If he receives
The money, he must wed the girl: I grant it.
But then some little time must be allow'd
For wedding-preparation, invitation.
And sacrifices. — Meanwhile, Phaidria's friends
Advance the money they have promis'd him :
Which Phormio shall make use of for repayment.
Ant. How so ? what reason can he give ?
Geta. What reason ?
A thousand. — " Since I made this fatal bargain,
Omens and prodigies have liappen'd to me.
There came a strange black dog into my house !
A snake fell through the tiling! a hen crow'd!
The Soothsayer forbade it ! The Diviner
Charg'd me to enter on no new affair
Before the winter," — All sufficient reasons.
Thus it shall be.
Ant. Pray Heav'u it may be !
Geta. It shall.
Depend on_me: — But here's your father. — Go;
Tell Pha^dria that the money's safe. (Exit Antipho.
Scene V.
Re-enter Demipiio and Ciikemes.
Dem. Nay, peace!
I'll warrant he shall play no tricks upon us :
I'll not part rashly with it, I assure you ;
But pay it before witnesses, reciting
To whom 'tis paid, and why 'tis paid.
Geta. How cautious.
Where there is no occasion! {Aside.')
Chrem. You had need.
But haste, dispatch it while tlie fit's upon him;
For if the other ]jarty should be pressing,
Perhaps he'll break with us.
Geta. You've hit it, Sir.
Dem. Carry me to him then.
Geta. I v/ait your pleasure.
Sc. VI.] rilOllMIO. 595
CiiKKM. (to Demifiio). When this is done, step over to my
wife,
That she may see the givl before she goes ;
And tell her, to prevent her being angry,
"That we've agreed to marry her to Fhormio,
Her old acquaintance, and a fitter match;
That we have not been wanting in our duty,
But giv'n as large a portion as he ask'd."
Deji. Pshaw! what's all this to you?
Chrem. a great deal, brother,
De3I. Is't not sufficient to have done your duty,
Unless the world approves it?
Chrem. I would choose
To have the whole thing done by her consent,
Lest she pretend she was turn'd out o' doors.
Dem. Well, I can say all this to her myself,
Chrem. A woman deals much better with a woman.
Dem. I'll ask your wife to do it then.
{Exeunt Demipiio and Geta.
Chrem. I'm thinking
Where I shall find these women now.
Scene VI.
Enter SorHRONA at a distance.
Soph, (to herself). Alas !
What shall I do, unhappy as I am?
Where find a friend ? to whom disclose this story ?
Of whom beseech assistance ? — For I fear
My mistress will sustain some injury
From following my counsel : the youth's father,
I hear, is so offended at this mari'iage.
Chrem. Who's this old woman, coming from my brother's.
That seems so terrified?
Soph, (to herself"). 'Twas poverty
Compell'd me to this action : though I knew
This match would hardly hold together long,
Yet I advis'd her to it, that meanwhile
She might not want subsistence.
Chrem. Surely, surely,
Either my mind deceives me, or my eyes fail me,
Or that's my daughter's nurse.
Soph, Nor can we find — —
Chrem, What shall I do ?
Soph. — Her father out.
Chrem. Were't best
I should go up to lier, or wait a little,
To gather something more from her discourse?
Soph, Could he be found, my fears were at an end.
Chrem, 'Tis she. I'll speak with her.
lOG PHORMIO. [Act III., Sc. VI.
Soph, {overhearing). Whose voice is that?
Chrem. Sophrona!
Soph. Ha! my name too?
Chkem. Look this way.
Soph, (turning^. Good Heav'n have mercy on us ! Stilpho !
Chrem. No.
Soph. Deny your own name?
Chrem. {in a low voice). This way, Sophrona !
— A little further from that door ! — this way ! —
And never call me by that name, I charge you.
Soph. What, ar'n't you then the man you said you was ?
{Aloud.)
Chrem. Hist! hi,st!
Soph. What makes you fear those doors so much?
Chrem. I have a fury of a wife within :
And formerly I went by that false name,
Lest she should indiscreetly blab it out.
And so my wife might come to hear of this.
Soph. Ah ! thus it was, that we, alas ! poor souls,
Could never find you out here.
Chrem. Well, but tell me.
What business have you with that family? {Pointing.)
— Where is vour mistress and her daughter?
Soph. Ahl
Chrem. What now? are they alive?
Soph. The daughter is :
The mother broke her heart with grief.
Chrem. Alas !
Soph. And I a poor, unknown, distress'd old woman,
Endeavoring to manage for the best,
Contriv'd to match the virgin to a youth,
Son to the master of this house.
Chrem. To Antipho?
Soph. The very same.
Chrem. What ! has he two wives then ?
Soph. No, mercy on us ! he has none but her.
Chrem. What is the other then, who, they pretend,
Is a relation to him ?
Soph. This is she.
Chrem. How say you?
Soppi. It was all a mere contrivance :
That he, who was in love, might marry her
Without a portion.
Chrem. O ye powers of heav'n,
How often fortune blindly brings about
More than we dare to hope for! Coming home,
I've found my daughter, even to my wish,
Match'd to the very person I desir'd.
What we have both been laboring to effect,
Has this poor woman all alone accomplish'd.
Soph. But now consider what is to be done !
Act IV., Sc. IL] PHORMIO. 597
•
The bridegroom's father is return'd; and he,
They say, is much offended at this marriage.
Chkem. Be of good comfort : there's no danger there.
But, in the name of heav'n and earth, I charge you,
Let nobody discover she's my daughter.
Soph. None shall discover it from me.
Chrem. Come then !
Follow me in, and you shall hear the rest. {ExeunU
ACT THE FOURTH.
Scene I.
Demipiio, Geta.
Dem. 'Tis our own fault that we encourage rogues,
By overstraining the due character
Of honesty and generosity.
*' Shoot not beyond the mark," the proverb goes.
Was't not enough that he had done us wrong,
But we must also throw him money too,
To live till he devises some new mischief?
Geta. Very right !
Dem. Knavery's now its own reward.
Geta. Very true!
Dem. How like fools have we behav'd !
Geta. So as he keeps his word, and takes the girl,
'Tis well enough.
Dem. Is that a doubt at present?
Geta. A man, you know, may change his mind.
Dem. How! change?
Geta. That I can't tell : but, if perhaps, I say.
Dem. I'll now perform my promise to my brother,
And bring his wife to talk to the young woman.
You, Geta, go before, and let her know
Nausistrata will come and speak with her. {Exit Demipiio.
Sceke II.
Geta alone.
The money's got for Phsedria : all is husli'd :
And Phanium is not to depart as yet.
What more then? Avhere will all this end at last?
— Alas ! you're sticking in the same mire still :
You've only ehang'd hands, Geta. The disaster
That hung but now directly over you^
Delay perhaps will bring more heavy on you.
You're quite beset, unless you look about.
598 • . PIIORMIO. [Act IV.
— Now then I'll home ; to lesson Phanium,
That she mayn't stand in fear of Phormio,
Nor dread this conf rence with Nausistrata. (Exit.
Scene III.
Enter De:.iipiio an J NausistRxVta.
Dem. Come then, Nausistrata, afford us now
A little of your usual art, and try
To put this woman in good humor with us ;
That what is done she may do willingly. ,
Naus. I will.
Dem. And now assist us with your counsel,
As with your cash a little while ago.
Naus. With all my heart: and I am only sorry
That 'tis my husband's fault I can't do more.
Dem. How so?
Naus. Because he takes such little care
Of the estate my father nurs'd so well :
For from these very farms he never fail'd
To draw two talents by the year. But ah!
What difference between man and man!
Dem. Two talents?
Naus. Aye — in worse times than these — and yet two talents?
Dem. Huy!
Naus. What, arc you surpris'd?
Dem. Prodigiously.
Naus. Would I had been a man ! I'd show
Dem. No doubt.
Naus. — By what means
Dem. Nay, but spare yourself a little
For the encounter with the girl : lest she.
Flippant and young, may weary you too much.
Naus. — Well, I'll obey your orders: but I see
My husband coming forth.
Scene IV.
Enter Chremes, hastily.
Cheem. Ha !
Has Phormio had tlic money yet?
Dem. I paid him
Immediately.
Chrem. I'm sorry for't. — {Seeing Nausistrata.)— My wife !
I'd almost said too much. {Aside.)
Dem. Why sorry, Chremes?
Chrem. Nothing. — No matter.
Dem. Well, but hark ye, Chremes!
Have you been talking with the girl, and told he.r
Wherefore Ave bring your wife?
Sc. IV.] PHORMIO. 599
Chrem. I've settled it.
Dem. Well, and what says she?
Chrem. 'Tis impossible
To send her hence.
Dem. And why impossible ?
Chrem. Because they are both so fond of one another-
Dem. What's that to us ?
Chrem. A great deal. And besides,
I have discover'd she's related to us.
Dem. Have you your wits?
Chrem. 'Tis so. I'm very serious.
— ^Nay, recollect a little!
Dem. Are you mad?
Naus. Good now, beware of wronging a relation !
Dem. She's no relation to us.
Chrem. Don't deny it.
Her father had assum'd another name,
And that deceiv'd you.
Dem. What ! not know her father ?
Chrem. Perfectly.
Dem. Why did she misname him then?
Chrem. Won't you be rul'd, nor understand me then?
Dem. What can I understand from nothing?
Chrem. Still? {Impatiently.)
Naus. I can't imagine what this means.
Dem. Nor I.
Chrem. Would you know all?— Why then, so help ma
Heaven,
She has no nearer kindred in the world
Than you and I.
Dem. Oh, all ye powers of heaven !
— Let us go to her then immediately:
I would fain know, or not know, all at once. {Going.')
Chrem. Ah ! {Stopping him.)
Dem. What's the matter?
Chrem. Can't you trust me then?
Dem. Must I believe it? take it upon trust?
— Well, be it so! — But what is to be done
With our friend's daughter ?
Chrem. Nothing.
Dem. Drop her?
Chrem. Aye.
Dem. And keep this?
Chrem. Aye.
Dem. Why then, Nausistrata,
You may return. We need not trouble you.
Naus. Indeed, I think, 'tis better on all sides,
That you should keep her here, than send her hence.
For she appear'd to me, when first I saw her,
Much of a gentlewoman. {Exit Nausistrata.
600 PHORMIO. [Act IV.
Scene V.
Manent Demipho and Chremes.
Dem. What means this?
Cheem. (looking after Nausistkata). Is the door shut?
Dem. It is.
Chrem. O Jupiter!
The Gods take care of us. I've found my daughter
Married to your son.
Dem. Ha! how could it be?
Chrem. It is not safe to tell you here.
Dem. Step in then.
Chrem. But hark ye, Demipho! — I would not have
Even our very sons inform'd of this. {Exeunt.
Scene VI.
Antipiio alone.
I'm glad, however my affairs proceed,
That Phsedria's have succeeded to his mind.
How wise to foster such desires alone,
As, although cross'd, are easily supplied!
Money, once found, sets Phsedria at his ease;
But my distress admits no remedy.
For, if the secret's kept, I live in fear ;
And if reveal'd, I am expos'd to shame.
Nor would I now return, but in the hope
Of still possessing her. — But where is Geta?
That I may learn of him the fittest time
To meet my father.
Scene VII.
Enter, at a distance, Phormio.
Phor. {to himself). I've receiv'd the money ;
Paid the procurer ; carried off the wench ;
Who's free, and now in Phajdria's possession.
One thing alone remains to be dispatch'd;
To get a respite from th' old gentlemen
To tipple some few days, which I must spend
In mirth and jollity.
Ant. But vender's Phormio. — {Goes iip.~)
What now? "
Phor. Of what ?
Ant. What's Phaidria about?
How does he mean to take his fill of love ?
Phor. By acting your part in his turn.
Vlll.] PHORMIO. 601
Ant. What part?
Phor. Flying his father's presence. — And he begs
That you'd act his, and make excuses for him ;
For he intends a drinking-bout with me.
I shall pretend to the old gentlemen
That I am going to the fair at Sunium,
To buy the servant-maid that Geta mention'd :
Lest, finding I am absent, they suspect
That I am squandering the sum they paid me.
— But your door opens.
Ant. Who comes here?^
Phor. 'Tis Geta.
Scene VIII.
Enter hastily, at anoiha- part of the stage, Geta.
Gkta. O fortune, O best fortune, what high blessings,
W^hat sudden, great, and unexpected joys
Hast thou shower'd down on Antipho to-day! —
Ant. AVhat can this be he's so rejoic'd about?
Geta. — And from what fears deliver'd us, his friends?
— But wherefore do I loiter thus? and why
Do I not throw my cloak upon my shoulder,
And haste to find him out, that he may know
All that has happen'd?
Ant. {to PiiORMio). Do you comprehend
What he is talking of? *
PiiOR. Do you?
Ant. Not I.
Phor. I'm just as wise as you.
Geta. I'll hurry hence
To the procurer's. — I shall find them there. {Going.)
Ant. Ho, Geta!
Geta. Look ye there ! — Is't nev/ or strange,
To be recall'd whefl one's in haste? {Going.)
Ant. Here, Geta !
Geta. Again? bawl on! I'll ne'er stop. {Going on.)
Ant. Stay, I say!
Geta. Go, and be drubb'd!
Ant. You shall, I promise you, n
Unless you stop, you rascal !
Geta {stopping). Hold, hold, Geta!
Some intimate acquaintance this, be sure,
Being so free with you. — But is it he
That I am looking for, or not? — 'Tis lie,
Piior. Go up immediately. {They go vp to Geta.)
Ant. {to Geta). What means all this ?
Geta. O happy man ! the happiest man on earth !
So very happy, that, beyond all doubt,
You are the God's chief fav'rite, Antipho.
Cc
602 PHORMIO. [Act IV., Sc. Vni.
Ant. Would I were ! but your reason.
Get A. Is't enough
To i)lunge you over head and ears in joy?
Ant. You torture me.
Piion. No promises I but tell us
What is your news?
Geta. Oh, Pliormiol are you here?
Phor. I am: but why d'ye trifle?
Geta. Mind me then! (7o Phormio.)
No sooner had we paid you at the Forum,
But we return'd directly home again.
— Arriv'd, my master sends me to your wife. (7b A^iTiruo.)
Ant. For what?
Geta. No matter now, good Antipho.
I was just entering the women's lodging,
When up runs little Mida; catches me
Hold by the cloak behind, and pulls me back.
I turn about, and ask why he detains me.
He told me, " Nobody must sec his mistress :
For Sophrona," says he, "has just now brought
Demipho's brother, Chremes, here ; and he
Is talking with the women now within."
— When I heard this, I stole immediately
On tip-toe tow'rd the door ; came close ; stood hush ;,
Brew in my breath ; applied my ear ; and thus,
Deep in attention, catch'd their whole discourse.
Ant. Excellent, Geta!
Geta. Here I overheard
The pleasantest adventure! On my life,
I scarce refrain'd from crying out for joy.
Ant. What?
Geta. Yf hat d'ye think ? {Laughhnj.)
Ant. I can't tell,
Geta. Oh ! it was {laugldng.)
Most wonderful ! — most exquisite ! — your uncle
Is found to be the father of your \^fe.
Ant. How ! what ?
Geta. He had a, sly intrigue, it seems,
With Phanium's mother formerly at Leranos. {Langking.)
Phor. Nonsense ! as if she did not know her father !
GETAq^ay, there's some reason for it, Phormie,
You may be sure. — ^But was it possible
For me, who stood without, to comprehend
Each minute circumstance that pass'd within?
Ant. I have heard something of this story too.
Geta. Then, Sir, to settle your belief the more,
At last out comes your uncle; and soon after
Returns again, and carries in your father.
Then they both said, they gave their full consent
That you should keep your Phanium. — In a v/ord,
I'm sent to find you out, and bring you to them.
Act v., Sc. I.] ]*HORMIO. Go;
Ant. Away with nie then instantly I D'ye linger?
Geta. Not I, Away!
Ant. My rhormio, fare you well!
Phor. Fare yon well, Antipho! {Exeunt.
Scene IX.
PiroKMio alone.
Well (lone, 'fore Heaven !
I'm overjoy'd to see so much good fortune
Fallen thus unexpectedly upon them :
I've now an admirable opportunity
To bubble the old gentlemen, and ease
Phoedria of all his cares about the money ;
So that he need not be oblig'd to friends'
For this same money, though it will be giA-en,
Will yet come from them much against the grain ;
But I have found a way to force them to't.
— Now then I must assume a grander air,
And put another face upon this business.
— I'll hence a while into the next by-alley,
And pop upon them as they're coming forth.
—As for the trip I talk'd of to the fair,
I sha'n't pretend to take that journey now. {Exit.
ACT THE FIFTH.
Scene I.
Enter De:,iii'I1() and Ciiremes — and soop- after, on t'other side,
PlIORMIO.
De3I. Well may we thank the gracious Gods, good brotlier,
That all things have succeeded to our wish.
— But now let's find out Phormio with all speed,
Before he throws away our thirty miiicT.
Phor. {pretending not to sec lilvi).
I'll go and see if Demipho's at home,
That I may
Dem. (meetim/ liini), — ^^'c were coming to you, Phormio.
Phor. On the ol'd score. I v,an-ant,
Deji. Aye.
Phor. I thought so.
— Why should you go to me ? — ridiculous !
Was you afraid I'd break my contract with you ?
No, no ! how great soe'er my poverty,
I've alwavs shoAvn mvself a man of honor.
GOi TIIOKMIO. [AcT\
CirREM. Has not she, as I said, a libera] air?
Dem. She has. f^^^«^'^-
PiiOR. — And therefore I was coming, Demipho,
To let you know I'm ready to receive
My wife whene'er you please. For I postpon'd
All other business, as indeed I ought.
Soon as I found ye were so bent on this.
Dem. Aye, but my brother has dissuaded me
From going any further in this business.
"For how will people talk of it?" says he:
"At first you might have done it handsomely;
But then you'd not consent to it ; and now,
After cohabitation with your son,
To think of a divorce is infamous."
— In short, he urg'd almost the very things
That you so lately charg'd me with yourself.
Phor. You trifle with me, gentlemen.
Dem. How so?
Phor. How so? Because I can not marry t'other,
With whom I told you I was first in treaty.
For with what face can I return to her
Whom I have held in such contempt?
Chrk^i. Tell him
Antipho does not care to part with her. {Prompting DE:Nrii>iTo- )
Dem, And my son too don't care to part with her:
— Step to the Forum then, and give an order
For the re]myment of our money, Phormio.
PiiOR. What! when I've paid it to my creditors?
Dem. What's to be done then ?
Phor. Give me but the wife
To whom you have betroth'd me, and I'll wed her.
But if you'd rather she should stay with you,
The portion stays Avith me, good Demipho,
For 'tis not just I should be bubbled by you ;
When, to retrieve your honor, I've refus'd
Another woman with an equal fortune.
Dem. a plague upon your idle vaporing.
You vagabond ! — D'ye fancy we don't Iir.ow you ?
You, and your fine proceedings ?
Phor. You provoke me.
Dem. Why, would you marry her, if proffcr'd ?
Ppior. Try me.
Deal What ! that my son may keep her i)rivately
At your house? — That was voiu- intention.
Phor. Ha!
What say you, Sir?
Dem. Give me my money, Sirrah!
Phor. Give me my wife, I say.
Dem. To justice with him!
Phor. To justice? Now, by Heaven, rjcntlcmcn,
If you continue to be troublesome
So. 1.] niORMIO. 605
Dem. What will you do ?
Phor. AYhat will I do ? rcrhaps
You think that I can only patronize
Girls without portion ; but be sure of this,
I've some with portions too.
Chrem. What's that to us?
Phor. Nothing. — I know a lady bcrc wliose husband
Chrem. Ha! (Carekssl)/.)
Dem. What's the matter?
Phor. — Had another wife
At Lemnos.
Chrem. (aside). I'm a dead man.
Phor. -^-By which other
He had a daughter; whom he no'v brings up
In private.
Chrem. (aside). Dead and buried.
Phor. This I'll tell her. (Going toicard the house.)
Chrem. Don't, I beseech you !
Phor. Oh! are you the man?
Dem. Death ! how insulting !
Chrem. (to Phormio). We discharge you.
Phor. Nonsense !
Chrem. What would you more ? The money you have got
We will forgive you.
Phor. AVell; I hear you now.
— But what a plague d'ye mean by fooling thus,
Acting and talking like mere cliildren with me?
■ — I won't ; I will : I will ; I won't again : —
Give, take ; say, unsay ; do, and then undo.
Chrem. (to Demipuo). W^hich vray could he have Icarn'd
this ?
Dem. I don't know .•
But I am sure I never mention'd it.
Chrem. Good now! amazing!
Phor. I have ruffled them. (Aside.)
Dem. What ! shall he carry off so large a sum,
And laugh at us so openly? — By Heaven,
I'd rather die. — Be of good courage, brother !
Pluck up the spirit of a man ! You sec
This slip of yours is got abroad; nor can you
Keep it a secret from your wife. Now, therefore,
'Tis more conducive to your peace, good Chremes,
That we should fairly tell it her ourselves.
Than she should hear the story from another.
And then we shall be quite at liberty
To take our own revenge upon this rascal.
Phor. Ha! — If I don't take care I'm ruin'd still.
They're growing desperate, and making tow'rd me
With a determin'd gladiatorial air.
Chrem. (to Demipho). I fear she'll ne'er forgive me.
Dem. Courage, Chremes!
606 rilORMIO. [Act V.
I'll reconcile her to't; especially
The mother being dead and gone.
PiiOR. Is this
Your dealing, gentlemen ? You come upon me
Extremely cunningly. — But, Demipho,
You have but ill consulted for your brother,
To urge me to extremities. — And you. Sir {to Ciiremes),
When you have play'd the whoremaster abroad ;
Having no reverence for your lady here,
A woman of condition ; wronging her
After the grossest manner; come you now
To wash away your crimes with mean submission?
No. — I will kindle such a flame in her,
As, though you melt in tears, you sha'n't extinguish.
Dem. a plague upon him ! was there ever man
So very impudent ? — A knave ! he ought
To be transported at the public charge
Into some desert.
Chkem. I am so confounded,
I know not what to do with him.
Dem. I know.
Bring him before a judge!
PnoR. Before a judge?
A lady-judge; in here. Sirs, if you please.
Dem. Run you and hold him, while I call her servants.
Chrem. I can not by myself; come up and help me.
PiiOR. I have an action of assault against you. {To Demipho.)
CiiREM. Bring it!
Phor. Another against you too, Chremes!
Dem. Drag him away! {Both lay hold of him.)
Phor. (struggling). Is that your way with me!
Then I must raise my voice. — Nausistrata!
Come hither.
Ciirem. Stop his mouth!
Dem. (struggling). A sturdy rogue !
How strong he is!
PiiOR. (struggling). Nausistrata, I say.
Nausistrata !
Chrem. {struggling). Peace, Siri'ah!
Phor. Peace, indeed!
Dem. Unless he follows, strike him in the stomach !
Phor. Aye, or put out an eye ! — But here comes one
Will give me full revenge upon you both. •
Scene II.
To them Nausistrata.
Naus. Who calls for me?
Chrem. Confusion !
Sc. II.] rHOKMlO. 007
Naus. (to CimEMES), Pray, my dear,
What's this disturbance?
Phor. Dumb, old Truepenny !
Naus. Who is this man? — ^Why don't you answer me?
{To Chremes.)
Phor. He answer you! he's hardly in his senses.
Chrem. Never believe him!
Phor. Do but go and touch him;
He's in a shivering lit, I'll lay my life.
Chrem. Nay
Naus. But what means he then?
Phor. I'll tell you, madam ;
Do but attend!
Chrem. Will you believe him then ?
Naus. What is there to beheve, when he says nothing?
Phor. Poor man! his fear deprives him of his wits.
Naus. (to Chremes). I'm sure you're not so much afraid
for nothing.
Chrem. What! I afraid?
(Endeavoring to take heart.)
Phor. Oh, not at all! — And since
You're in no fright, and what I say means nothing,
Tell it yourself.
Dem. At your desire, you rascal?
Phor. Oh, you've done rarely for your brother. Sir!
Naus. What! Won't you tell mc, husband?
Chrem. But
Naus. But what?
Chrem. There's no occasion for it.
Phor. Not for you:
But for the Lady there is much occasion.
In Lemnos
Chrem. Ha! what say you?
Dem. (to Phormio). Hold your peace !
Phor. Without your knowledge
Chre3I. Oh dear!
Phor. He has had
Another wife.
Naus. My husband? Heav'n forbid!
Phor. 'Tis even so.
Naus. Ah me! I am undone.
Phor. — And had a daughter by her there ; while you
Was left to sleep in ignorance alone.
Naus. Oh Heavens! — ^Baseness! — Treachery!
Phor. 'Tis fact.
Naus. Was ever any thing more infamous?
When they're with us, their wives forsooth, they're old.
— ^Demipho, I appeal to y^ : for him
I can not bear to speak to. — And were these
His frequent journeys and long stay at Lemnos?
Was this the cheapness that reduc'd our rents?
608 PHORMIO. . [Act V
Dem. That he has been to blame, Nausistrata,
I don't deny; but not beyond all pardon.
Phor. You're talking to the dead.
Dem. It was not done
Out of aversion or contempt to you.
In liquor, almost fifteen years ago,
He met this woman, whence he had this daughter;
Nor e'er had commerce with her from that hour.
She's dead : your only grievance is remov'd.
Wherefore I beg you'd show your wonted goodness,
And bear it patiently.
Naus. How! bear it patiently?
Alas ! I wish his vices might end here.
But have I the least hope? can I suppose
That years will cure these rank offenses in him?
Ev'n at that time he was already old.
If age could make him modest. — Are my yeai-s
And beauty, think ye, like to please him more
At present, Demipho, than formerly?
— In short, what ground, what reason to expect
That he should not commit the same hereafter?
PiiOR. {aloud). Whoever would attend the funeral
Of Chremes, now's the time ! — Sec ! that's my wa3\
Come on then ! provoke Phormio now, who dares !
Like Chremes, he shall fall a victim to me.
— Let him get into favor when he will !
I've had revenge sufficient. She has something
To ring into his eai's his whole life long.
Naus. Have I deserv'd this? — Need I, Demipho,
Number up each particular, and say
How good a wife I've been?
Dem. I know it all.
Naus. Am I then justly treated?
Dem. Not at all.
But since reproaches can't undo what's done,
Forgive him ! he begs pardon ; owns his fault ;
And promises to mend. — What would you more ?
Phor. But hold; before she ratifies his pardon,
I must secure myself and Phajdria. {Aside.)
—Nausistrata, a word! — Before you give
Your answer rashly, hear me!
Naus. What's your pleasure?
Phor. I trick'd your husband there of thirty minae.
Which I have giv'n your son ; and he has paid them
To a procurer for a mistress.
Chrem. How !
What say you?
Naus. Is it such a heinout crime
For your young son, d'ye think, to have one mistress,
While you have two wives ? — Are you not asham'd ?
Have vou the face to chide him ? answer me !
Sc. II.] PHOHMIO. 609
Dem. He shall do ev'iy thing you please.
Naus. Nay, nay,
To teli you plainly my whole mind at once,
I'll not forgive, nor promise any thing,
Nor give an answer, till I see my son.
Phor. Wisely resolv'd, Nausistrata.
Naus. Is that
Sufficient satisfaction for you ?
Phor. Quite.
I rest contented, well pleas'd, past my hopes,
Naus. What is your name, pray ?
PiiOR. My name ? Phormio :
A faithful friend to all your family,
Especially to Phasdria.
Naus. Trust me, Phormio,
ril do you all the service in my power.
Phor. I'm much oblig'd to you.
Naus. You're worthy on't.
Phor. Will you then even now, Nausistrata,
Grant me one favor that will pleasure me.
And grieve your husband's sight?
Naus. With all my soul.
Phor. Ask me to supper!
Naus. I invite you.
Dem. In then!
Naus. We will. But where is Phcedria, our judge?
Phor. He shall be with you. — [To the Audience.)
Farewell ; Clap your hands I
THE END.
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