ACT · V
MENEDEMUS and CLINIA.
MENEDEMUS.
YOU have made me, my dear Clinia, the very happiest of fathers,
By this return to your senses; indeed I ran great risk
Of taking leave of my own: but since I have you back,
’Tis nothing but happiness: and gladly I now consent
To the match, which hitherto in your own interest
I have only opposed because I would not have you marry
A woman not freeborn. To be sure I cd have wished
’Twas somebody else’s daughter than Chremes’. After all
It might be worse. But are you sure you hold to it still,
And wish to marry her?
CLINIA.
1350
I, father? How can you ask?
Men. You are young to marry; but, mind, I should not make your age
An objection, provided I thought you knew what marriage is.
But do you, can you know? You have only experience
Of childhood, and some few years of youthful liberty:
What can thát teach? Your tie to me, your friendships,—
Some intimate friendships too: but nothing here nor there
Comparable to the bond of marriage. Suppose I say
’Tis, next to existence, the most familiar thing in the world:—1358
Then judge how jealous pride & self-regard should be,
Ere they admit this master circumstance to rule,
As rule it must. You know the story Plato tells
Of Er, the Armenian soldier, & what he saw in death,
Permitted to stand between the gates of heaven and hell;
How there he saw the souls, who, ere they came on earth,
Were choosing each their lives in turn—and, what was strange,
How wantonly and without deliberation they chose,
Making a rush at what they fancied first: and this,
So Plato said, explained man’s discontent on earth,
His misery being his fault. All wh, be it fable or no,
Clinia, has this much truth; that you may see the like
Without going down to the grave, nor any revelation
Of nature’s secrecies—but every day on earth, 1372
In men that wive. With them the stake is no less great;
Their carelessness in choice, their after-discontent
Match each in kind. Now I would play the interpreter
To you, as some celestial did to Er: I warn you,
Take not this step in haste. You choose a second being:
The lives are strewn before you: is this the best to take?
Clin. O if you knew Antiphila, father, you would not ask.
1380
Men. Very well. I see your choice is made. I only wish
She did not drink.
Clin.O father! you know—
Men.Yes, yes. I know.
What a number of sad mistakes Chremes has made to-day!
He has not discovered yet who the two Persians were,
Who came to frighten me.
Clin.I hope I need not tell you, father,
I never wished that done. I feared you might be grieved:
But Chremes being so sure you never would forgive me . . .
Men. Was he?
Clin.He said you told him.
Men.Did he? He has been to blame.
There’s much he will have to explain to me, which he will not wish
Another to hear. Retire to the garden, while I go
And smooth things over with him, and ask his daughter’s hand.
Clin. How long?
Men.Well, if I send, be ready at once to come:
And see that Pamphilus too is handy: explain to him,
That if I can be happy enough to make his peace with his father,
His presence will then be needed.
[Exit.
Clin.I hope it will not be long.
Men. I am not very wise myself or clever, that I know:
And I may have behaved in a manner open to criticism,
I may have even provoked derision, that may be;
I think I have. But this same would-be helper of mine,
My counsellor and guide, Chremes, is very far beyond me.
I never did anything half so foolish in all my life
As to trust my secrets to him. In time now; here he comes.
Enter Chremes.
CHREMES.
Ah, my good Menedemus, now I have news indeed.
Men. I know it, Chremes, and give you my hearty congratulations.
’Tis a happy day for us both: for you have found a daughter,
And I . . .
Chr.You know it already? Who told you?
Men.My son.
Chr.Your son!
Men. Clinia. Yes. He is in my house. I was coming across
To ask you to join your treasure so newly found with mine:
And to give your daughter to-day to my son in marriage.
Chr.Well!
I cannot understand it. Where did he come from? When?
1410
Men. Why, that’s the strangest of all: he landed only this morning,
Met your son in the town; & has been in yóur house
Ever since.
Chr.My house?
Men.It seems your son is a friend of his:
He introduced him, but under another name, because
He did not wish to be known.
Chr.Not Clitipho?
Men.Ay, ’twas that.
Chr. There then! O how I have been deceived! And you were right
About the Persians too: they were a make-believe.
Men. So I guessed all along, Chremes.
Chr.But who then were they?
Men. Forgive me, my good friend, I ask you once for all,
The annoyance my family affairs have been to you to-day.
Your kindness has brought you only vexation.
Chr.O, I am sure
You are welcome enough to any service that I can render.
Men. Then pray oblige me in this, and overlook the folly
Of the actors in thís fárce. The intention was to deceive
Me and not you: till you accidentally, as it seems,
Came in their way: and then they could not help themselves:
They even tried to avoid you.
Chr.Who were they?
Men.Remember too
’Tis the feast of Bacchus to-day, ’tis not so great a crime
To droll on a private person, at a time that is set apart
For mirth and jollity, and when buffoonery too makes up
A part of the festival.
1430
Chr.I think no gentleman
Should suffer buffoonery to cover an insult.
Men.Supposing not,
Yet none was intended.
Chr.Who were they?
Men.The deceit was planned for me,
And I forgive it.
Chr.Who were they?
Men.They came from yóur house.
Chr. Not Clinia?
Men.No; although it was done in his interest.
Your son was one, and a friend . . .
Chr.I know: Philolaches.
I see.
Men. It seems they had drawn from you, I know not how,
Somewhat too harsh a picture of me: so ’twas resolved
To put me to proof.
Chr.Menedemus, since ’twas my own son,
It does not matter; for now my account with him is closed.
Men. What say you?
1440
Chr.Well, never mind. He is now no more my son.
O Menedemus, indeed he has treated me shamefully.
This morning I thought your son had acted ill by you:
How willingly now I’d change.
Men.You make too much of it.
No harm was meant; and none has been done: a foolish hoax,
And nothing more.
Chr.You cannot hope to persuade me now
There is any excuse for a son deceiving his own father.
Men. I think a father would find one, Chremes, where there was none.
Chr. Nay, nay: no more of him. I understand you came
About my daughter.
Men.I did. Clinia asks her hand.
Chr. You know she is not that woman they made me think....
1450
Men.I know.
Chr. Menedemus, I never wished to have a daughter. I thought
A girl was a burden, the worst possession a man could have;
Costly to rear, costly to keep, costly to get rid of.
It seems I was wrong. I have had a daughter, who from her cradle
Has never cost me a single penny, and the very hour
She is thrown on my hands, she has offers of marriage. ’Tis not for me
To hinder the kindness of heaven. You are welcome to take her. Yet
I have one condition: the dowry.
Men.Certainly: about that
We shall not quarrel however. My son will be rich: and you
Will give as you think is fit.
Chr.I still shall insist on terms.
You will not oppose a project of mine?
Men.I promise not;
Consider it settled: & now let us put the business off,
And bring the two young lovers happily face to face.
I long to see Antiphila.
Chr.Wait. I’ll call my wife,[Goes to L.
And tell her to bring her out.
Men.And I will call my son.[Goes to R.
(Calling) Clinia!
Re-enter Clinia.
Clin.Father!
Men.Come! Is Pamphilus there?
Clin.He is.
Men. Let him be ready.
Enter Sostrata and Antiphila.
Chr.See here, Menedemus, my daughter.
Men.And mine.
My dear Antiphila, I fear you have heard hard tales of me:
I have therefore the greater pleasure in bringing you, now we meet,
The joy I have stood in the way of. I have asked your good father
To grant your hand to my son in marriage: he has consented.
See, here is Clinia. Let me join your hands—for ever.
Be happy.
SOSTRATA.
(Aside.) The dear old man; see how he weeps for joy.
Chr. You will not deny me now, Menedemus, I’m sure: you’ll come
And spend what is left of the day at my house. You will dine with us?
Men. With all my heart. You have not presented me to your wife.
I beg....
Chr. Come, Sostrata, come & make your compliments
To our new relation.
Men.Your servant, madam.
Sost.O sir, I am glad
My Antiphila will have your son for a husband.
Men.I am very proud
Of such a daughter-in-law. But now, if I may ask,
Where is your son Pamphilus? He should not be absent now.
Chr. Don’t ask for him.
Sost.I beseech you speak with my husband, sir.
Chr. I beg, Menedemus, you’ll say no more. I have cast him off.
Men. I still shall venture to plead his forgiveness.
Chr.’Tis too late.
I have sent him off already: he is gone.
Men.Not so: he is here.
(Calls) Pamphilus! (To Chremes) Do not blame me; I promised to plead for him.
Enter Pamphilus.
Chr. How dare you again appear in my presence, wretch? Be off!
I tell you that I disown you. Yes, Menedemus, & you
Will not attempt, I beg, to avert the punishment
He more than deserves. I have cast him away and cut him off.
My whole fortune I leave to Antiphila—that is the thing
I said I shd ask—you promised not to oppose me: now
I beg you will not.
Men.Consider if you are wise.
Chr.Not wise?
Sost. O you are very unwise!
Chr.Wife!
Sost.Why, he is your son!
Chr. Extremely kind of you to say so! there’s not a doubt in the world
He is yours: but were I you, I shd not be very vain,
Being mirrored in such a cub.
Sost.O Chremes, your own son!
Chr. Not were he twice my son, and sprung from my head, as they say
Minerva was from Jove’s, would I own him.
PAMPHILUS.
Consider, sir,
My mother’s feelings, although you do not consider me.
Chr. I do not consider you, sir? In all I have done,
I have kept You and your follies in view: considering what you are,
I thought you would rather think I considered you too much.
I consider you reckless, sir; I consider that you pursue
Your pleasure and vulgar tastes. I consider you quite unfit
To be trusted with money, and so I have hit on a plan, by which
You’ll be, I consider, spared the trouble of managing it;
And though not launched on the world as I’d wish to see my son,
You’ll be, I consider, ensured from absolute destitution.
Unable to leave you my wealth, I turn to those that are next,
To them I do not shrink from entrusting it; and I consider,
That at their house, Pamphilus, you will always find at least
A refuge, food & clothes, & a roof above your head.
Pam. Good God!
Chr.Don’t swear.—’Tis better than that you should be my heir,
And Gorgo squander it. Eh, sir?
Pam.O, I wish I was dead.
Chr. First learn what ’tis to live: when you know that, if life
Displease you still, then wish to die.
Men.Chremes, allow me
To urge you in this. You could not really wish him to go
To Persia, say, and forsake you, as Clinia díd mé.
1520
Chr. Forsake me! why, let him go to perdition for all I care,
Rather than stay at home and drag his father down
To beggary with his vices and follies: for if I once
Were saddled with his expenses, I guess ’twould come very soon
To my using that spade of yours, Menedemus, in good earnest.
Men. You offered me your advice this morning; now I in turn....
Chr. I do not need advice.
Men.Spoil not so happy a day.
Chr. I have found a daughter to-day, Menedemus, but lost a son.
Men. You have lost your daughter to me, let me restore your son.
Sost. O do forgive him, Chremes; you must.
Chr.Pray, silence, wife.
1530
Clin. Me, sir, you cannot blame for taking a brother’s part.
His fault was partly mine: and what was wrongly done
Was done in my behalf.
Chr.No, no, there’s no excuse.
Enter Philolaches as a Persian.
Men. Why, here’s our friend the Persian.
Chr.Pray, sir, what will you?
PHILOLACHES.
I hear you have been enquiring for me in the town. Behold me!
Chr. I do not want you now: I know, sir, who you are.
The game is all played out. We have done with masquerades,
And personating others.
Ph.I may take it then I address
Chremes, and not Menedemus?
Chr.You do, sir; and be so kind
As now to restore me the money, which under a false pretence
You made me give you to-day.
1540
Ph.’Tis not the Persian custom.
Chr. You and your Persian customs be hanged, sir; and I believe
You’re more than half to blame for all the impertinence
I have suffered to-day.
Ph.I am, sir; I came to make the confession;
But if you know it already, why do you spite your son?
I have been your guest to-day, & if I have overstrained
The liberty of the feast, I am ready in turn to pay
The penalty. In the name of Bacchus, disown and cast off me,
Disinherit me if you will. But him, your flesh & blood,
Pity and forgive.
Men.Yes, Chremes.
ANTIPHILA.
O father, do give in!
1550
Chr. Now that’s the first time, lass, you have called me father. I see
I shall have to yield.
Ant.O thank you.
Chr.Stay. If I do give in,
’Tis only on two conditions.
Men.I’ll answer for Pamphilus,
That he’ll accept them: what are they?
Chr.First, my forty pounds;
To get that back from Gorgo.
Pam.I can’t do that.
Chr.You can’t?
Men. You spent that money, Chremes, advanced it rather for me,
Thinking to do me a service. I’ll ask you let it be me
Who does it for you. I’ll gladly pay it: it is not lost.
Consider this condition fulfilled.
Chr.You are kinder far
To my boy than he has deserved.
Men.And what is the other matter?
Chr. This. He must marry.
Pam.Father!
1560
Chr.I will not hear a word.
Men. I’ll vouch for him that he will do it.
Chr.He does not say so himself.
Pam. No use,—impossible.
Sost.Can you hesitate, Pamphilus?
Chr. Nay, let him do as he likes.
Men.He’ll do it—everything.
Sost. This must seem strange at first & disagreeable,
Before you have even thought of it. When you know more of it,
You’ll like it.
Pam.I will, father.
Chr.Good! son: for though a wife
Is an evil, she is a necessary evil, and one to which
You will get accustomed in time. ’Tis more respectable too
To be married; and the only cure for a temper such as yours.
Sost. I’ll help you choose, my dear Pamphilus; I know who—1570
That clever, charming girl, whom you’ll be in love with directly;
The orphan niece of our old neighbour, Phanocrates.
Pam. What, not that red-haired thing, with a mouth from ear to ear,
And a little knob of a nose. I couldn’t.
Chr.Why, only see
How nice he has grown: it’s plain he means what he says now.
Sost. Why, I’m sure, Pamphilus, she is a pinnacle of perfection.
But I know another.
Pam.No, no; if I am to marry, be hanged!
I’ll choose for myself. I know of a girl will do very well.
Sost. Who is it?
Pam.Archonides’ daughter.
Sost.You cd not have pleased me more.
Chr. My word! I do believe my wife & I are agreed
On something at last. O wonderful day!
1581
Sost.Chremes, I knew
’Twould end like this.
Chr.Now, wife! none of your prophecies.
Come in, come all to dinner.
Pam.Philolaches was asked;
May he come too?
Chr.Oh yes! if it’s the Persian custom.
I’ll bear no grudge to-day; come in, sir, with the rest,
And help to make us merry. This is the Feast of Bacchus.
NERO PART II
FROM THE DEATH OF BURRUS TO
THE DEATH OF SENECA
COMPRISING
THE CONSPIRACY OF PISO
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
As in first part
| NERO | ||
| SENECA | ||
| LUCAN | a poet, nephew to Seneca. | |
| PETRONIUS | a gentleman of Rome. | |
| TIGELLINUS | prætorian prefect (successor to Burrus). | |
| THRASEA | a stoic senator. | |
| PRISCUS | a young stoic, lover of Fannia. | |
| GRIPUS | a Neapolitan boatman. | |
| POPPÆA | now wife to Nero. | |
| New Characters in this part | ||
| CLITUS | a Christian, brother of Epicharis. | |
| PISO | a nobleman. | |
| NATALIS | confidential follower of Piso. | |
| SCEVINUS, a rich lord |  | courtiers. |
| SENECIO, an upstart gentleman | ||
| QUINTIAN, a court poet | ||
| PROCULUS | Admiral (successor to Anicetus). | |
| LATERANUS | Consul elect. | |
| RUFUS | shared prefecture with Tigellinus. | |
| FLAVUS, a tribune |  | under Rufus. |
| ASPER, a centurion | ||
| VATINIUS | Nero’s fool (successor to Paris). | |
| CASSIUS | a guardsman, distinguished by his size. | |
| ACTE | Nero’s early mistress. | |
| EPICHARIS | daughter of a tavern-keeper at Naples. | |
| FANNIA | Thrasea’s daughter, marries Priscus. | |
| PAULLINA | wife to Seneca. | |
| Officers, Attendants, Sailors, Soldiers, Citizens, etc. | ||
NERO PT. II
