FOOTNOTES
[1.] See the Dramatis Personæ of the [Andria].
[2.] From μενὸς, “strength,” and δῆμος, “the people.”
[3.] From κλίνω, “to incline,” or from κλινὴ, “the marriage-bed.”
[4.] From κλειτὸς, “illustrious,” and φῶς, “light.”
[5.] See the Dramatis Personæ of the [Andria].
[6.] From Syria, his native country.
[7.] From σώζω, “to preserve,” or “save.”
[8.] From ἀντὶ, “in return,” and φιλῶ, “to love.”
[9.] From Bacchus, the God of Wine.
[10.] From Phrygia, her native country.
[11.] Being Consuls)—M. Juventius Thalna and Ti. Sempronius Gracchus were Consuls in the year from the Building of the City 589, and B.C. 164.
[12.] Assigned to an old man)—Ver. 1. He refers to the fact that the Prologue 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 performed a character in the opening Scene.
[13.] 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, which 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.
[14.] From an entire Greek one)—Ver. 4. In contradistinction to such 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.
[15.] Which from a two-fold plot)—Ver. 6. Vollbehr suggests that the meaning of this line is, that though it is but one Play, it has a two-fold plot—the intrigues of two young men with two mistresses, and the follies 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 argumento—simplici;” the Play is “two-fold, with but one plot,” as extending to two successive days. The Play derives its name from the Greek words, ἑαυτὸν, “himself,” and τιμωρουμενὸς, “tormenting.”
[16.] To be 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 adversaries; 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 Fragments 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 Roman author, though he has adopted the title of the Greek Play, has so altered the fable, that Menedemus is soon thrown into the background, 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.”
[17.] A malevolent old Poet)—Ver. 22. He alludes to his old enemy, Luscus Lavinius, referred to in the preceding Prologue.
[18.] The genius of his friends)—Ver. 24. He alludes to a report which had been spread, that his friends Lælius and Scipio had published their own compositions under his name. Servilius is also mentioned by Eugraphius as another of his patrons respecting whom similar stories were circulated.
[19.] As he ran alone in the street)—Ver. 31. He probably does not intend 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 running in the guise of Sosia, in the fourth Scene of the Amphitryon, l. 987, and exclaiming, “For surely, why, faith, should I, a God, be any less allowed to threaten the public, if it doesn’t get out of my way, than a slave in the Comedies?” This practice can not, however, be intended 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; and in the Mostellaria, Tranio, in haste, brings information of the unexpected arrival of Theuropides. The “currens servus” is also mentioned in the Prologue to the Andria, l. 36. See the soliloquy of Stasimus, in the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 1007.
[20.] A quiet Play)—Ver. 36. “Statariam.” See the spurious Prologue to the Bacchides of Plautus, l. 10, and the Note to the passage in Bohn’s Translation. The Comedy of the Romans was either “stataria”, “motoria”, or “mixta”. “Stataria” was a Comedy which was calm and peaceable, such as the Cistellaria of Plautus; “motoria” was one full of action and disturbance, like his Amphitryon; while the “Comœdia mixta” was a mixture of both, such as the Eunuchus of Terence.
[21.] What in each character)—Ver. 47. “In utramque partem ingenium quid possit meum.” This line is entirely omitted in Vollbehr’s edition; but it appears to be merely a typographical error.
[22.] 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.
[23.] 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 replete with the very essence of benevolence and disregard of self. Cicero quotes the passage in his work De 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-Tormentor. It is from the 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 sentiment 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 humanity—nay, people elegant and skillful in observation upon it. It is possible 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.”
[24.] Take off my shoes)—Ver. 124. As to the “socci,” or low shoes of the ancients, see the Notes to the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 720, in Bohn’s Translation. It was the especial duty of certain slaves to take off the shoes of their masters.
[25.] To 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.
[26.] Provide me with dress)—Ver. 130. It was the custom for the mistress and female servants in each family to make the clothes of the master. Thus in the Fasti of Ovid, B. ii., l. 746, Lucretia is found amidst her female servants, making a cloak, or “lacerna,” for her husband. 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 had 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 Prologue to the Mercator of Plautus, as administered by Demænetus to his son Charinus.
[27.] Neither movables)—Ver. 141. “Vas” is here used as a general name for articles of furniture. This line appears to be copied almost literally from one of Menander, which still exists.
[28.] 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, l. 168, and the Note to the passage in Bohn’s Translation.
[29.] Toward your children)—Ver. 151. The plural “liberos” is here used to signify the one son which Menedemus has. So in the Hecyra, l. 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.
[30.] Festival of Bacchus, “Dionysia”)—Ver. 162. It is generally supposed that there were four Festivals called the Dionysia, during the year, at Athens. The first was the Rural, or Lesser Dionysia, κατ᾽ ἀγροὺς, a vintage festival, which was celebrated in the “Demi” or boroughs of Attica, in honor of Bacchus, in the month Poseidon. This was 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, which was called the Lensea, from ληνὸς, 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 Anthesterion. The first day was called πιθοίγια, or “the Opening of the casks,” as on that day the casks were opened to taste the wine of the preceding year. The second day was called χοες, from χοῦς, “a cup,” and was probably devoted to drinking. The third day was called χυτροὶ, from χυτρὸς, “a pot,” as on it persons offered pots with flower-seeds or cooked vegetables to Dionysus or Bacchus. The fourth Attic festival of Dionysius was celebrated in the month Elaphebolion, and was called the Dionysia ἐν ἄστει, Αστικὰ, or Μεγαλὰ, the “City” or “great” festival. It was celebrated with great magnificence, processions and dramatic representations forming part of the ceremonial. From Greece, by way of Sicily, the Bacchanalia, or festivals of Bacchus, were introduced into Rome, where they became the scenes of and pretext for every kind of vice and debauchery, 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 account of the Dionysia and the Bacchanalia in Dr. Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities.
[31.] Is of service to him)—Ver. 199. He means that it is to the advantage of Clitipho that Clinia should be seen to stand in awe of his father.
[32.] Reasonable men)—Ver. 205. “Homo,” “a man,” is here put for men in general who are fathers.
[33.] Of knowing and of pardoning)—Ver. 218. There is a jingle intended here in the resemblance of the words “cognoscendi,” “knowing,” and “ignoscendi,” “pardoning.”
[34.] 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.
[35.] Great way from here)—Ver. 239. That is, from the place where they are, in the country, to Athens.
[36.] Troop of female attendants)—Ver. 245. The train and expenses of a courtesan of high station are admirably depicted in the speech of Lysiteles, in the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 252.
[37.] 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 Romans 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.
[38.] With no worthless woman’s trumpery)—Ver. 289. By “nullâ malâ 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 vermilion, 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 Complexion,” and much information upon this subject is given in various passages in the Art of Love. In the Remedy of Love, l. 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 objects; and you will see ‘oesypum,’ 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, l. 1168, speaks of a female who “covers herself with noxious odors, and whom her female attendants fly from to a distance, and chuckle by stealth.” See also the Mostellaria of Plautus, Act I., Scene 3, l. 135, where Philematium is introduced making her toilet on the stage.
[39.] Do hold your peace)—Ver. 291. “Pax,” literally “peace!” in the sense of “Hush!” “Be quiet!” See the Notes to the Trinummus of Plautus, ll. 889-891, in Bohn’s Translation.
[40.] The woof)—Ver. 293. See an interesting passage on the ancient weaving, in the Metamorphoses of Ovid, B. vi., l. 54, et seq. See also the Epistle of Penelope to Ulysses, in the Heroides of Ovid, l. 10, and the Note in Bohn’s English Translation.
[41.] She was weaving)—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.
[42.] Your Bacchis, 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.”
[43.] Incur this risk)—Ver. 337. As to his own mistress.
[44.] Upon either ear)—Ver. 342. “In aurem utramvis,” a proverbial expression, implying an easy and secure repose. It is also used by Plautus, and is found in a fragment of the Πλοκιὸν, or Necklace, a Comedy of Menander.
[45.] Still do that which I said)—Ver. 346. “Perge porro, tamen istue 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 persist in sending Bacchis away.”
[46.] Such great people)—Ver. 363. “Quos,” literally, “What persons!”
[47.] Words of double meaning)—Ver. 372. “Inversa verba, eversas cervices tuas.” “Inversa verba” clearly means, words with a double meaning, or substituted for others by previous arrangement, like correspondence by cipher. Lucretius uses the words in this sense, B. i., l. 643. A full account of the secret signs and correspondence 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, l. 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 sidelong look, or it may allude to the act of snatching a kiss on the sly, which might lead to a discovery.
[48.] A man whose manners—those persons)—Ver. 393. “Cujus—hi;” a change of number by the use of the figure Enallage.
[49.] I can scarce endure it)—Ver. 400. Colman has the following remark on this passage: “Madame Dacier, contrary 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 have 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 jeu de théâtre, 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 will not be so lavish of acknowledgments as filial piety. There does not appear the least foundation for this remark 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 théâtre, it appears a most absurd and ridiculous device; particularly 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.”
[50.] It is now daybreak)—Ver. 410. Though this is the only Play which includes more than one day in the action, it is not the only one in which 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.
[51.] How I was affected)—Ver. 436. “Ut essem,” literally, “How I was.”
[52.] 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.”
[53.] In tasting only)—Ver. 457. “Pytiso” was the name given to the 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.
[54.] 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 except the Chian, which was the highest class of wine.
[55.] Respected sir)—Ver. 459. “Pater,” literally “father;” a title by which the young generally addressed aged persons who were strangers to them.
[56.] All the casks, all the vessels)—Ver. 460. “Dolia omnia, omnes serias.” The finer kinds of wine were drawn off from the “dolia,” or large vessels, into the “amphoræ,” 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 impervious 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 were of glass, small tickets or labels, called “pittacia,” were suspended from them, stating to a similar effect. The “seriæ” 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 pitch while hot from the furnace. “Seriæ” 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 taking the seal of pitch or wax off the stopper of the wine-vessel.
[57.] With that servant of yours)—Ver. 473. Dromo.
[58.] What an inlet)—Ver. 482. “Fenestram;” literally, “a window.”
[59.] This night with 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 contrary 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 interrupted? 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.”
[60.] That they may not 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.
[61.] 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.
[62.] Not like those of former days)—Ver. 524. Syrus, by showing himself 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.
[63.] Can no longer support her expenses)—Ver. 544. He refers to Menedemus and Bacchis.
[64.] But in 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.”
[65.] And truly, Chremes)—Ver. 557. Some suppose that this is said in apparent candor by Syrus, 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.
[66.] ’Tis the truth)—Ver. 568. “Factum.” “Done for” is anothor translation which this word will here admit of.
[67.] That he does the same)—Ver. 577. Clinia.
[68.] Of a prudent and discreet person)—Ver. 580. This is said ironically.
[69.] Is there but one way)—Ver. 583. And that an immodest one.
[70.] With your wife)—Ver. 604. Madame Dacier remarks, that as Antiphila 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.
[71.] Would she really be a security)—Ver. 606. The question of Chremes seems directed to the fact whether the girl is of value sufficient to be good security for the thousand drachmæ.
[72.] You shall soon know)—Ver. 612. Madame Dacier suggests that 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 lucrative 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.”
[73.] Has gained a loss)—Ver. 628. He alludes to Clitipho, 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.
[74.] That she might not be without)—Ver. 652. 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 bestowed on them some of their property; it was consequently the custom 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.
[75.] Saving of yourself and her)—Ver. 653. Madame Dacier says that the meaning of this passage is this: Chremes tells his wife that by having 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.
[76.] I see more hopes)—Ver. 659. Syrus is now alarmed 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.
[77.] A man can not be)—Ver. 666. This he says by way of palliating the cruelty he was guilty of in his orders to have the child put to death.
[78.] Unless my fancy deceives me)—Ver. 668. “Nisi me animus fallit.” He comically repeats the very same words with which Sostrata commenced in the last Scene.
[79.] 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 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 discovers at the entrance of Clinia. 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 critical 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 knowledge of the real state of the case, till apprised of the whole by Clinia.”
[80.] With my sides covered)—Ver. 673. He 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.
[81.] Runaway money)—Ver. 678. “Fugitivum argentum.” Madame Dacier suggests that this is a bad translation of the words of Menander, which were “ἀποστρέψειν τὸν δραπέταν χρυσὸν” where “χρυσὸς” signified both “gold” and the name of a slave.
[82.] If the sky were to fall)—Ver. 719. He means those who create unnecessary 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 embassadors from the Celtic, being asked by Alexander what in the world they dreaded most, answered, ‘That they feared lest the sky should fall [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 supported on the shoulders of Atlas, and that when he let go of it, it would fall.
[83.] To a very fine purpose)—Ver. 723. “Satis pol proterve,” &c. C. Lælius was said to have assisted Terence in the composition of his Plays, and in confirmation of this, the following story is told by Cornelius Nepos: “C. Lælius, happening to pass the Matronalia [84.] They’re asleep)—Ver. 730. “Dormiunt.” This is clearly used figuratively, though Hedelin interprets it literally. [85.] Farm here on the right-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. [86.] The feast of Bacchus)—Ver. 733. This passage goes far to prove that the Dionysia here mentioned as being celebrated, were those κατ᾽ ἀγρους, or the “rural Dionysia.” [87.] Let’s be 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 expresses some reluctance to act under the direction of Syrus, but is at length prevailed on, finding that he can by those means contrive to pay her the money which he has promised her.” [88.] Rigorous law)—Ver. 796. Cicero mentions the same proverb in his work De Officiis, B. i., ch. 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 the Fragments of Menander. [89.] Are sanctioned by custom)—Ver. 839. He inveighs, perhaps justly, against the tyranny of custom; but in selecting this occasion for doing so, he does not manifest any great affection for his newly-found daughter. [90.] Assistant, prompter, and director)—Ver. 875. The three terms here used are borrowed from the stage. “Adjutor” was the person who assisted the performers either by voice or gesture; “monitor” was the prompter; and “præmonstrator” was the person who in the rehearsal trained the actor in his part. [91.] Dolt, post, ass)—Ver. 877. There is a similar passage in the Bacchides of Plautus, l. 1087. “Whoever there are in any place whatsoever, 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.” [92.] Mould the countenances of people)—Ver. 887. He means that Syrus not only lays his plots well, but teaches the performers to put on countenances suitable to the several parts they are to act. [93.] Has moulded your son)—Ver. 898. “Mire finxit.” He sarcastically uses the same word, “fingo,” which Chremes himself employed in l. 887. [94.] Substance to suffice for ten days)—Ver. 909. “Familia” here means “property,” as producing sustenance. Colman, however, has translated the passage: “Mine is scarce a ten-days’ family.” [95.] His she-friend rather)—Ver. 911. Menedemus speaks of “amico,” a male friend, which Chremes plays upon by saying “amicae,” which literally meant a she-friend, and was the usual name by which decent people called a mistress. [96.] And forsake you)—Ver. 924. Madame Dacier observes here, that one of the great beauties of this Scene consists in Chremes retorting on Menedemus the very advice given by himself at the beginning of the Play. [97.] 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 sufficient 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 absurdities; and there are several other instances of the like nature in Terence.” [98.] Intrusted every thing)—Ver. 966. This is an early instance of a trusteeship and a guardianship. [99.] It’s all over)—Ver. 974. “Ilicet,” literally, “you may go away.” This was the formal word with which funeral ceremonies and trials at law were concluded. [100.] 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 Mostellaria of Plautus, l. 1074, where Tranio takes refuge at the altar from the vengeance of his master, Theuropides. [101.] Amounts to the same thing)—Ver. 1010. “Quam quidem redit 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 know. [102.] Because my daughter has been found)—Ver. 1018. This sentence has given much trouble to the Commentators. Colman has the following 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 that 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 Chremes. 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 intended 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 with 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.” [103.] 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 vocem Comœdia tollit, Iratusque Chremes tumido delitigat ore:” “Yet sometimes Comedy as well raises her voice, and enraged Chremes censures in swelling phrase.” [104.] I don’t know as to the Gods)—Ver. 1037. “Deos nescio.” The Critic Lambinis, 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.” [105.] And close with the offer)—Ver. 1048. “Firmas.” This ratification or affirmation would be made by Menedemus using the formal word “Accipio,” “I accept.” [106.] Freckled face)—Ver. 1060. Many take “sparso 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, however, no reason why he should not speak of her complexion; and it seems, not improbably, to have the same meaning as the phrase “os lentiginosum,” “a freckled face.”[ ADELPHI;]
THE BROTHERS,DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
| Demea,[1] Brother, aged Athenian. Micio,[2] Brother, aged Athenian. Hegio,[3] an aged Athenian, kinsman of Sostrata. Æschinus,[4] son of Demea, adopted by Micio. Ctesipho,[5] another son of Demea. Sannio,[6] a Procurer. Geta,[7] servant of Sostrata. Parmeno,[8] servant of Micio. Syrus,[9] servant of Micio. Dromo,[10] servant of Micio. Pamphila,[11] a young woman beloved by Æschinus. Sostrata,[12] a widow, mother of Pamphila. Canthara,[13] a Nurse. A Music-girl. |
Scene.—Athens; before the houses of Micio and Sostrata.
[ THE SUBJECT.]
Micio and Demea are two brothers of dissimilar tempers. Demea is married, and lives a country life, while his brother remains single, and resides in Athens. Demea has two sons, the elder of whom, Æschinus, has been adopted by Micio. Being allowed by his indulgent uncle to gratify his inclinations without restraint, Æschinus has debauched Pamphila, the daughter of a widow named Sostrata. Having, however, promised to marry the young woman, he has been pardoned for the offense, and it has been kept strictly secret. Ctesipho, who lives in the country with his father under great restraint, on visiting the city, falls in love with a certain Music-girl, who belongs to the Procurer Sannio. To screen his brother, Æschinus takes the responsibility of the affair on himself, and succeeds in carrying off the girl for him. Demea, upon hearing of this, censures Micio for his ill-timed indulgence, the bad effects of which are thus exemplified in Æschinus; and at the same time lauds the steady conduct and frugality of Ctesipho, who has been brought up under his own supervision. Shortly after this, Sostrata hears the story about the Music-girl, at the very time that her daughter Pamphila is in labor. She naturally supposes that Æschinus has deserted her daughter for another, and hastens to acquaint Hegio, her kinsman, with the fact. Meantime Demea learns that Ctesipho has taken part in carrying off the Music-girl, whereon Syrus invents a story, and screens Ctesipho for the moment. Demea is next informed by Hegio of the conduct of Æschinus toward Pamphila. Wishing to find his brother, he is purposely sent on a fruitless errand by Syrus, on which he wanders all over the city to no purpose. Micio having now been informed by Hegio, and knowing that the intentions of Æschinus toward Pamphila are not changed, accompanies him to the house of Sostrata, whom he consoles by his promise that Æschinus shall marry her daughter. Demea then returns from his search, and, rushing into Micio’s house, finds his son Ctesipho there carousing; on which he exclaims vehemently against Micio, who uses his best endeavors to soothe him, and finally with success. He now determines to become kind and considerate for the future. At his request, Pamphila is brought to Micio’s house; and the nuptials are celebrated. Micio, at the earnest request of Demea and Æschinus, marries Sostrata; Hegio has a competency allowed him; and Syrus and his wife Phrygia are made free. The Play concludes with a serious warning from Demea, who advises his relatives not to squander their means in riotous living; but, on the contrary, to bear admonition and to submit to restraint in a spirit of moderation and thankfulness.
[ THE TITLE OF THE PLAY.]
Performed at the Funeral Games of Æmilius Paulus,[14] which were celebrated by Q. Fabius Maximus and P. Cornelius Africanus. L. Atilius Prænestinus and Minutius Prothimus performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius, composed the music for Sarranian flutes.[15] Taken from the Greek of Menander, L. Anicius and M. Cornelius being Consuls.[16]
[ ADELPHI;]
THE BROTHERS,
THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.
As Demea has two sons, young men, he gives Æschinus to his brother Micio to be adopted by him; but he retains Ctesipho: him, captivated with the charms of a Music-girl, and under a harsh and strict father, his brother Æschinus screens; the scandal of the affair and the amour he takes upon himself; at last, he carries the Music-girl away from the Procurer. This same Æschinus has previously debauched a poor woman, a citizen of Athens, and has given his word that she shall be his wife. Demea upbraids him, and is greatly vexed; afterward, however, when the truth is discovered, Æschinus marries the girl who has been debauched; and, his harsh father Demea now softened, Ctesipho retains the Music-girl.
[ THE PROLOGUE.]
Since the Poet has found that his writings are carped at by unfair critics, and that his adversaries represent in a bad light the Play that we are about to perform, he shall give information about himself; you shall be the judges whether this ought to be esteemed to his praise or to his discredit. The Synapothnescontes[17] is a Comedy of Diphilus;[18] Plautus made it into a Play called the “Commorientes.” In the Greek, there is a young man, who, at the early part of the Play, carries off a Courtesan from a Procurer; that part Plautus has entirely left out. This portion he has adopted in the Adelphi, and has transferred it, translated word for word. This new Play we are about to perform; determine then whether you think a theft has been committed, or a passage has been restored to notice which has been passed over in neglect. For as to what these malevolent persons say, that men of noble rank assist him, and are always writing in conjunction with him—that which they deem to be a heavy crimination, he takes to be the highest praise; since he pleases those who please you all and the public; the aid of whom in war, in peace, in private business,[19] each one has availed himself of, on his own occasion, without any haughtiness on their part. Now then, do not expect the plot of the Play; the old men[20] who come first will disclose it in part; a part in the representation they will make known. Do you cause your impartial attention to increase the industry of the Poet in writing.
[ ACT THE FIRST.]
[ Scene I.]
Enter Micio, calling to a servant within.
Mic. Storax! Æschinus has not returned home from the entertainment last night, nor any of the servants who went to fetch him.[21] (To himself.) Really, they say it with reason, if you are absent any where, or if you stay abroad at any time, ’twere better for that to happen which your wife says against you, and which in her passion she imagines in her mind, than the things which fond parents fancy. A wife, if you stay long abroad, either imagines that you are in love or are beloved, or that you are drinking and indulging your inclination, and that you only are taking your pleasure, while she herself is miserable. As for myself, in consequence of my son not having returned home, what do I imagine? In what ways am I not disturbed? For fear lest he may either have taken cold,[22] or have fallen down somewhere, or have broken some limb. Oh dear! that any man should take it into his head, or find out what is dearer to him than he is to himself! And yet he is not my son, but my brother’s. He is quite different in disposition. I, from my very youth upward, have lived a comfortable town life, and taken my ease; and, what they esteem a piece of luck, I have never had a wife. He, on the contrary to all this, has spent his life in the country, and has always lived laboriously and penuriously. He married a wife, and has two sons. This one, the elder of them, I have adopted. I have brought him up from an infant, and considered and loved him as my own. In him I centre my delight; this object alone is dear to me. On the other hand, I take all due care that he may hold me equally dear. I give—I overlook; I do not judge it necessary to exert my authority in every thing; in fine, the things that youth prompts to, and that others do unknown to their fathers, I have used my son not to conceal from me. For he, who, as the practice is, will dare to tell a lie to or to deceive his father, will still more dare to do so to others. I think it better to restrain children through a sense of shame and liberal treatment, than through fear. On these points my brother does not agree with me, nor do they please him. He often comes to me exclaiming, “What are you about, Micio? Why do you ruin for us this youth? Why does he intrigue? Why does he drink? Why do you supply him with the means for these goings on? You indulge him with too much dress; you are very inconsiderate.” He himself is too strict, beyond what is just and reasonable; and he is very much mistaken, in my opinion, at all events, who thinks that an authority is more firm or more lasting which is established by force, than that which is founded on affection. Such is my mode of reasoning;
and thus do I persuade myself. He, who, compelled by harsh treatment, does his duty, so long as he thinks it will be known, is on his guard: if he hopes that it will be concealed, he again returns to his natural bent. He whom you have secured by kindness, acts from inclination; he is anxious to return like for like; present and absent, he will be the same. This is the duty of a parent, to accustom a son to do what is right rather of his own choice, than through fear of another. In this the father differs from the master: he who can not do this, let him confess that he does not know how to govern children. But is not this the very man of whom I was speaking? Surely it is he. I don’t know why it is I see him out of spirits; I suppose he’ll now be scolding as usual. Demea, I am glad to see you well.[23]
[ Scene II.]
Enter Demea.
Dem. Oh,—opportunely met; you are the very man I was looking for.[24]
Mic. Why are you out of spirits?
Dem. Do you ask me, when we have such a son as Æschinus,[25] why I’m out of spirits?
Mic. (aside.) Did I not say it would be so? (To Demea.) What has he been doing?
Dem. What has he been doing? He, who is ashamed of nothing, and fears no one, nor thinks that any law can control him. But I pass by what has been previously done: what a thing he has just perpetrated!
Mic. Why, what is it?
Dem. He has broken open a door,[26] and forced his way into another person’s house, beaten to death the master himself, and all the household, and carried off a wench whom he had a fancy for. All people are exclaiming that it was a most disgraceful proceeding. How many, Micio, told me of this as I was coming here? It is in every body’s mouth. In fine, if an example must be cited, does he not see his brother giving his attention to business, and living frugally and soberly in the country? No action of his is like this. When I say this to him, Micio, I say it to you. You allow him to be corrupted.
Mic. Never is there any thing more unreasonable than a man who wants experience, who thinks nothing right except what he himself has done.
Dem. What is the meaning of that?
Mic. Because, Demea, you misjudge these matters. It is no heinous crime, believe me, for a young man to intrigue or to drink; it is not; nor yet for him to break open a door. If neither I nor you did so, it was poverty that did not allow us to do so. Do you now claim that as a merit to yourself, which you then did from necessity? That is unfair; for if we had had the means to do so, we should have done the same. And, if you were a man, you would now suffer that other son of yours to act thus now, while his age will excuse it, rather than, when he has got you, after long wishing it, out of the way, he should still do so, at a future day, and at an age more unsuited.
Dem. O Jupiter! You, sir, are driving me to distraction. Is it not a heinous thing for a young man to do these things?
Mic. Oh! do listen to me, and do not everlastingly din me upon this subject. You gave me your son to adopt; he became mine; if he offends in any thing, Demea, he offends against me: in that case I shall bear the greater part of the inconvenience. Does he feast,[27] does he drink, does he smell of perfumes,[28]—it is at my cost. Does he intrigue, money shall be found by me, so long as it suits me; when it shall be no longer convenient, probably he’ll be shut out of doors.[29] Has he broken open a door—it shall be replaced; has he torn any one’s clothes—they shall be mended. Thanks to the Gods, I both have means for doing this, and these things are not as yet an annoyance. In fine, either desist, or else find some arbitrator between us: I will show that in this matter you are the most to blame.
Dem. Ah me! Learn to be a father from those who are really so.
Mic. You are his father by nature, I by my anxiety.
Dem. You, feel any anxiety?
Mic. Oh dear,—if you persist, I’ll leave you.
Dem. Is it thus you act?
Mic. Am I so often to hear about the same thing?
Dem. I have some concern for my son.
Mic. I have some concern for him too; but, Demea, let us each be concerned for his own share—you for the one, and I for the other. For, to concern yourself about both is almost the same thing as to demand him back again, whom you intrusted to me.
Dem. Alas, Micio!
Mic. So it seems to me.
Dem. What am I to say to this? If it pleases you, henceforth—let him spend, squander, and destroy; it’s nothing to me. If I say one word after this——
Mic. Again angry, Demea?
Dem. Won’t you believe me? Do I demand him back whom I have intrusted? I am concerned for him; I am not a stranger in blood; if I do interpose—well, well, I have done. You desire me to concern myself for one of them,—I do concern myself; and I give thanks to the Gods, he is just as I would have him; that fellow of yours will find it out at a future day: I don’t wish to say any thing more harsh against him.
Exit.
[ Scene III.]
Micio alone.
Mic. These things are[30] not nothing at all, nor yet all just as he says; still they do give me some uneasiness; but I was unwilling to show him that I took them amiss, for he is such a man; when I would pacify him, I steadily oppose and resist him; and in spite of it he hardly puts up with it like other men; but if I were to inflame, or even to humor his anger, I should certainly be as mad as himself. And yet Æschinus has done me some injustice in this affair. What courtesan has he not intrigued with? Or to which of them has he not made some present? At last, he recently told me that he wished to take a wife,[31] I suppose he was just then tired of them all. I was in hopes that the warmth of youth had now subsided; I was delighted. But look now, he is at it again; however, I am determined to know it, whatever it is, and to go meet the fellow, if he is at the Forum.
Exit.
[ ACT THE SECOND.]
[ Scene I.]
Enter Æschinus and Parmeno with the Music-Girl, followed by Sannio and a crowd of people.
San. I beseech you, fellow-citizens, do give aid to a miserable and innocent man; do assist the distressed.
Æsch. (to the Girl.) Be quiet, and now then stand here just where you are. Why do you look back? There’s no danger; he shall never touch you while I am here.
San. I’ll have her, in spite of all.
Æsch. Though he is a villain, he’ll not risk, to-day, getting a second beating.
San. Hear me, Aeschinus, that you may not say that you were in ignorance of my calling; I am a Procurer.[32]
Æsch. I know it.
San. And of as high a character as any one ever was. When you shall be excusing yourself by-and-by, how that you wish this injury had not been done me, I shall not value it this (snapping his fingers). Depend upon it, I’ll prosecute my rights; and you shall never pay with words for the evil that you have done me in deed. I know those ways of yours: “I wish it hadn’t happened; I’ll take my oath that you did not deserve this injustice;” while I myself have been treated in a disgraceful manner.
Æsch. (to Parmeno.) Go first with all dispatch and open the door.
Parmeno opens the door.
San. But you will avail nothing by this.
Æsch. (To the Girl.) Now then, step in.
San. (coming between.) But I’ll not let her.
Æsch. Step this way, Parmeno; you are gone too far that way; here (pointing), stand close by him; there, that’s what I want. Now then, take care you don’t move your eyes in any direction from mine, that there may be no delay if I give you the sign, to your fist being instantly planted in his jaws.
San. I’d have him then try that.
Æsch. (to Parmeno.) Now then, observe me.
Par. (to Sannio.) Let go the woman. (Strikes him.)
San. Oh! scandalous deed!
Æsch. He shall repeat it, if you don’t take care. (Parmeno strikes him again.)
San. Oh shocking!
Æsch. (to Parmeno.) I didn’t give the sign; but still make your mistakes on that side in preference. Now then, go.
Parmeno goes with the Music-Girl into Micio’s house.
San. What is the meaning of this? Have you the sway here, Aeschinus?
Æsch. If I had it, you should be exalted for your deserts.
San. What business have you with me?
Æsch. None.
San. How then, do you know who I am?
Æsch. I don’t want to.
San. Have I touched any thing of yours?
Æsch. If you had touched it, you’d have got a drubbing.
San. What greater right then have you to take my property, for which I paid my money? Answer me that.
Æsch. It were better for you not to be making a disturbance here before the house; for if you persist in being impertinent, you shall be dragged in at once, and there you shall be lashed to death with whips.
San. A free man, with whips?
Æsch. So it shall be.
San. Oh, you shameless fellow! Is this the place where they say there is equal liberty for all?
Æsch. If you have now raved enough, Procurer, now then listen, if you please.
San. Why, is it I that have been raving, or you against me?
Æsch. Leave alone all that, and come to the point.
San. What point? Where am I to come to?
Æsch. Are you willing now that I should say something that concerns you?
San. With all my heart, only so it be something that’s fair.
Æsch. Very fine! a Procurer wishing me not to say what’s unfair.
San. I am a Procurer,[33] I confess it—the common bane of youth—a perjurer, a public nuisance; still, no injury has befallen you from me.
Æsch. Why, faith, that remains to come——
San. Pray, Æschinus, do come back to the point at which you set out.
Æsch. You bought her for twenty minæ; and may your bargain never thrive! That sum shall be given for her.
San. What if I don’t choose to sell her to you? Will you compel me?
Æsch. By no means.
San. I was afraid you would.
Æsch. Neither do I think that a woman can be sold who is free; for I claim her by action of freedom.[34] Now consider which you choose; take the money, or prepare yourself for the action. Think of it, Procurer, till I return.[35]
He goes into the house of Micio.
[ Scene II.]
Sannio alone.
San. (to himself.) O supreme Jupiter! I do by no means wonder that men run mad through ill usage. He has dragged me out of my house, beaten me, taken my property away against my will, and has given me, unfortunate wretch, more than five hundred blows. In return for all this ill usage he demands the girl to be made over to him for just the same price at which she was bought. But however, since he has so well deserved of me, be it so: he demands what is his due. Very well, I consent then, provided he only gives the money. But I suspect this; when I have said that I will sell her for so much, he’ll be getting witnesses forthwith that I have sold her.[36] As to getting the money, it’s all a dream. Call again by and by; come back to-morrow. I could bear with that too, hard as it is, if he would only pay it. But I consider this to be the fact; when you take up this trade, you must brook and bear in silence the affronts of these young fellows. However, no one will pay me; it’s in vain for me to be reckoning upon that.
[ Scene III.]
Enter Syrus, from the house of Micio.
Syr. (speaking to Æschinus within.) Say no more; I myself will arrange with him; I’ll make him glad to take the money at once, and say besides that he has been fairly dealt with. (Addressing Sannio.) Sannio, how is this, that I hear you have been having some dispute or other with my master?
San. I never saw a dispute on more unequal terms[37] than the one that has happened to-day between us; I, with being thumped, he, with beating me, were both of us quite tired.
Syr. Your own fault.
San. What could I do?
Syr. You ought to have yielded to the young man.
San. How could I more so, when to-day I have even afforded my face to his blows?
Syr. Well—are you aware of what I tell you? To slight money on some occasions is sometimes the surest gain. What!—were you afraid, you greatest simpleton alive, if you had parted with ever so little[38] of your right, and had humored the young man, that he would not repay you with interest?
San. I do not pay ready money for hope.
Syr. Then you’ll never make a fortune. Get out with you, Sannio; you don’t know how to take in mankind.
San. I believe that to be the better plan—but I was never so cunning as not, whenever I was able to get it, to prefer getting ready money.
Syr. Come, come, I know your spirit; as if twenty minæ were any thing at all to you in comparison to obliging him; besides, they say that you are setting out for Cyprus——
San. (aside.) Hah!
Syr. That you have been buying up many things to take thither; and that the vessel is hired. This I know, your mind is in suspense; however, when you return thence, I hope you’ll settle the matter.
San. Not a foot do I stir: Heavens! I’m undone! (Aside.) It was upon this hope they devised their project.
Syr. (aside.) He is alarmed. I’ve brought the fellow into a fix.
San. (aside.) Oh, what villainy!—Just look at that; how he has nicked me in the very joint.[39] Several women have been purchased, and other things as well, for me to take to Cyprus.[40] If I don’t get there to the fair, my loss will be very great. Then if I postpone this business, and settle it when I come back from there, it will be of no use; the matter will be quite forgotten. “Come at last?” they’ll say. “Why did you delay it? Where have you been?” So that I had better lose it altogether than either stay here so long, or be suing for it then.
Syr. Have you by this reckoned[41] up what you calculate will be your profits?
San. Is this honorable of him? Ought Æschinus to attempt this? Ought he to endeavor to take her away from me by downright violence?
Syr. (aside.) He gives ground. (To Sannio.) I have this one proposal to make; see if you fully approve of it. Rather than you should run the risk, Sannio, of getting or losing the whole, halve it. He will manage to scrape together ten minæ[42] from some quarter or other.
San. Ah me! unfortunate wretch, I am now in danger of even losing part of the principal. Has he no shame? He has loosened all my teeth; my head, too, is full of bumps with his cuffs; and would he defraud me as well? I shall go nowhere.
Syr. Just as you please. Have you any thing more to say before I go?
San. Why yes, Syrus, i’ faith, I have this to request. Whatever the matters that are past, rather than go to law, let what is my own be returned me; at least, Syrus, the sum she cost me. I know that you have not hitherto made trial of my friendship; you will have no occasion to say that I am unmindful or ungrateful.
Syr. I’ll do the best I can. But I see Ctesipho; he’s in high spirits about his mistress.
San. What about what I was asking you?
Syr. Stay a little.
[ Scene IV.]
Enter Ctesipho, at the other side of the stage.
Ctes. From any man, when you stand in need of it, you are glad to receive a service; but of a truth it is doubly acceptable, if he does you a kindness who ought to do so. O brother, brother, how can I sufficiently commend you? This I am quite sure of; I can never speak of you in such high terms but that your deserts will surpass it. For I am of opinion that I possess this one thing in especial beyond all others, a brother than whom no individual is more highly endowed with the highest qualities.
Syr. O Ctesipho!
Ctes. O Syrus, where is Æschinus?
Syr. Why, look—he’s at home, waiting for you.
Ctes. (speaking joyously.) Ha!
Syr. What’s the matter?
Ctes. What’s the matter? ’Tis through him, Syrus, that I am now alive—generous creature! Has he not deemed every thing of secondary importance to himself in comparison with my happiness? The reproach, the discredit, my own amour and imprudence, he has taken upon himself. There can be nothing beyond this; but what means that noise at the door?
Syr. Stay, stay; ’tis Æschinus himself coming out.
[ Scene V.]
Enter Æschinus, from the house of Micio.
Æsch. Where is that villain?
San. (aside.) He’s looking for me.[43] Is he bringing any thing with him? Confusion! I don’t see any thing.
Æsch. (to Ctesipho.) Ha! well met; you are the very man I was looking for. How goes it, Ctesipho? All is safe: away then with your melancholy.
Ctes. By my troth, I certainly will away with it, when I have such a brother as you. O my dear Æschinus! O my brother! Alas! I am unwilling to praise you any more to your face, lest you should think I do so rather for flattery than through gratitude.
Æsch. Go to, you simpleton! as though we didn’t by this time understand each other, Ctesipho. This grieves me, that we knew of it almost too late, and that the matter had come to such a pass, that if all mankind had wished they could not possibly have assisted you.
Ctes. I felt ashamed.
Æsch. Pooh! that is folly, not shame; about such a trifling matter to be almost flying the country![44] ’Tis shocking to be mentioned; I pray the Gods may forbid it!
Ctes. I did wrong.
Æsch. (in a lower voice.) What says Sannio to us at last?
Syr. He is pacified at last.
Æsch. I’ll go to the Forum to pay him off; you, Ctesipho, step in-doors to her.
San. (aside to Syrus.) Syrus, do urge the matter.
Syr. (to Æschinus.) Let us be off, for he is in haste for Cyprus.[45]
San. Not particularly so; although still, I’m stopping here doing nothing at all.
Syr. It shall be paid, don’t fear.
San. But he is to pay it all.
Syr. He shall pay it all; only hold your tongue and follow us this way.
San. I’ll follow.
Ctes. (as Syrus is going.) Harkye, harkye, Syrus.
Syr. (turning back.) Well now, what is it?
Ctes. (aside.) Pray do discharge that most abominable fellow as soon as possible; for fear, in case he should become more angry, by some means or other this matter should reach my father, and then I should be ruined forever.
Syr. That shall not happen, be of good heart; meanwhile enjoy yourself in-doors with her, and onder the couches[46] to be spread for us, and the other things to be got ready. As soon as this business is settled, I shall come home with the provisions.
Ctes. Pray do so. Since this has turned out so well, let us make a cheerful day of it.
Ctesipho goes into the house of Micio; and exeunt Æschinus and Syrus, followed by Sannio.
[ ACT THE THIRD.]
[ Scene I.]
Enter Sostrata and Canthara, from the house of the former.
Sos. Prithee, my dear nurse, how is it like to end?
Can. Like to end, do you ask? I’troth, right well, I trust.
Sos. Her pains are just beginning, my dear.
Can. You are in a fright now, just as though you had never been present on such an occasion—never been in labor yourself.
Sos. Unfortunate woman that I am! I have not a person at home; we are quite alone; Geta too is absent. I have no one to go for the midwife, or to fetch Æschinus.
Can. I’faith, he’ll certainly be here just now, for he never lets a day pass without visiting us.
Sos. He is my sole comfort in my afflictions.
Can. Things could not have happened, mistress, more for the advantage of your daughter than they have, seeing that violence was offered her; so far as he is concerned, it is most lucky,—such a person, of such disposition and feelings, a member of so respectable a family.
Sos. It is indeed as you say; I entreat the Gods that he may be preserved to us.
They stand apart, on seeing Geta.
[ Scene II.]
Enter Geta, on the other side of the stage.
Geta (to himself.) Now such is our condition, that if all were to combine all their counsels, and to seek a remedy for this mischief that has befallen myself, my mistress, and her daughter, they could find no relief. Oh wretched me! so many calamities beset us on a sudden, we can not possibly extricate ourselves. Violence, poverty, oppression, desertion, infamy! What an age is this! O shocking villainy! O accursed race! O impious man!—
Sos. Unhappy me! How is it that I see Geta hurrying along thus terrified?
Geta (continuing.) Whom neither promises, nor oaths, nor compassion could move or soften; nor yet the fact that the delivery was nigh at hand of the unfortunate woman on whom he had so shamefully committed violence.
Sos. (apart to Canthara.) I don’t well understand what he is talking about.
Can. Pray, let us go nearer to him, Sostrata.
Geta (continuing.) Ah wretched me! I am scarcely master of my senses, I am so inflamed with anger. There is nothing that I would like better than for all that family to be thrown in my way, that I might give vent to all my wrath upon them while this wound is still fresh. I could be content with any punishment, so I might only wreak my vengeance on them. First, I would stop the breath of the old fellow himself who gave being to this monster; then as for his prompter, Syrus, out upon him! how I would tear him piecemeal! I would snatch him by the middle up aloft, and dash him head downward upon the earth, so that with his brains he would bestrew the road: I would pull out the eyes of the young fellow himself, and afterward hurl him headlong over some precipice. The others I would rush upon, drive, drag, crush, and trample them under foot. But why do I delay at once to acquaint my mistress with this calamity? (Moves as if going.)
Sos. (to Canthara.) Let us call him back. Geta——
Geta. Well—leave me alone,[47] whoever you are.
Sos. ’Tis I,—Sostrata.
Geta (turning round.) Why, where are you? You are the very person I am looking for. I was in quest of you; it’s very fortunate you have met me.
Sos. What’s the matter? Why are you trembling?
Geta. Alas! Alas!
Sos. My dear Geta, why in such haste? Do take breath.
Geta. Quite—(pauses.)
Sos. Why, what means this “quite”?
Geta. Undone—It’s all over with us.
Sos. Say, then, I entreat you, what is the matter.
Geta. Now——
Sos. What “now,” Geta?
Geta. Æschinus——
Sos. What about him?
Geta. Has abandoned our family.
Sos. Then I am undone! Why so?
Geta. He has attached himself to another woman.
Sos. Woe unto wretched me!
Geta. And he makes no secret of it; he himself has carried her off openly from a procurer.
Sos. Are you quite sure of this?
Geta. Quite sure; I saw it myself, Sostrata, with these same eyes.
Sos. Ah wretched me! What is one now to believe, or whom believe? Our own Æschinus, the very life of us all, in whom all our hopes and comforts were centred! Who used to swear he could never live a single day without her! Who used to say, that he would place the infant on his father’s knees,[48] and thus entreat that he might be allowed to make her his wife!
Geta. Dear mistress, forbear weeping, and rather consider what must be done for the future in this matter. Shall we submit to it, or shall we tell it to any person?
Can. Pooh, pooh! are you in your senses, my good man? Does this seem to you a business to be made known to any one?
Geta. I, indeed, have no wish for it. In the first place, then, that his feelings are estranged from us, the thing itself declares. Now, if we make this known, he’ll deny it, I’m quite sure; your reputation and your daughter’s character will then be in danger. On the other hand, if he were fully to confess it, as he is in love with another woman, it would not be to her advantage to be given to him. Therefore, under either circumstance, there is need of silence.
Sos. Oh! by no means in the world! I’ll not do it.
Geta. What is it you say?
Sos. I’ll make it known.
Geta. Ha, my dear Sostrata, take care what you do!
Sos. The matter can not possibly be in a worse position than it is at present. In the first place, she has no portion; then, besides, that which was as good as a portion, her honor, is lost: she can not be given in marriage as a virgin. This resource is left; if he should deny it, I have a ring which he lost as evidence of the truth. In fine, Geta, as I am fully conscious that no blame attaches to me, and that neither interest nor any consideration unworthy of her or of myself has had a share in this matter, I will make trial——
Geta. What am I to say to this? I agree, as you speak for the best.
Sos. You be off as fast as possible, and relate all the matter just as it has happened to her kinsman Hegio; for he was the best friend of our lamented Simulus, and has shown especial regard for us.
Geta. (aside.) Aye, faith, because nobody else takes any notice of us.
Sos. Do you, my dear Canthara, run with all haste, and fetch the midwife, so that, when she is wanted, we may not have to wait for her.
Sostrata goes into the house, and exit Geta and Canthara.
[ Scene III.]
Enter Demea.
Dem. (to himself.) Utterly undone! I hear that Ctesipho was with Æschinus at the carrying off of this girl. This sorrow still remains for unhappy me, should Æschinus be able to seduce him, even him, who promises so fair, to a course of debauchery. Where am I to inquire for him? I doubt he has been carried off to some bad house; that profligate has persuaded him, I’m quite sure. But look—I see Syrus coming this way, I shall now know from him where he is. But, i’faith, he is one of the gang; if he perceives that I am looking for him, the rascal will never tell me. I’ll not let him know what I want.
[ Scene IV.]
Enter Syrus, at the other side of the stage.
Syr. (to himself.) We just now told the old gentleman the whole affair just as it happened; I never did see any one more delighted.
Dem. (apart.) O Jupiter! the folly of the man!
Syr. (continuing.) He commended his son. To me, who put them upon this project, he gave thanks——
Dem. (apart) I shall burst asunder.
Syr. (continuing.) He told down the money instantly, and gave me half a mina besides to spend. That was laid out quite to my liking.
Dem. (apart.) Very fine—if you would wish a thing to be nicely managed, intrust it to this fellow.
Syr. (overhearing him.) Ha, Demea! I didn’t see you; how goes it?
Dem. How should it go? I can not enough wonder at your mode of living here.
Syr. Why, really silly enough, and, to speak without disguise, altogether absurd. (Calls at the door of Micio’s house.) Dromo, clean the rest of the fish; let the largest conger-eel play a little in the water; when I come back it shall be boned;[49] not before.
Dem. Is profligacy like this——
Syr. As for myself, it isn’t to my taste, and I often exclaim against it. (Calls at the door.) Stephanio, take care that the salt fish is well soaked.
Dem. Ye Gods, by our trust in you! is he doing this for any purpose of his own, or does he think it creditable to ruin his son? Wretch that I am! methinks I already see the day when Æschinus will be running away for want, to serve somewhere or other as a soldier.[50]
Syr. O Demea! that is wisdom indeed,—not only to look at the present moment, but also to look forward to what’s to come.
Dem. Well—is this Music-girl still with you?
Syr. Why, yes, she’s in-doors.
Dem. How now—is he going to keep her at home?
Syr. I believe so; such is his madness!
Dem. Is it possible?
Syr. An imprudent lenity in his father, and a vicious indulgence.
Dem. Really, I am ashamed and grieved at my brother.
Syr. Demea! between you there is a great—I do not say it because you are here present—a too great difference. You are, every bit of you, nothing but wisdom; he a mere dreamer. Would you indeed have suffered that son of yours to act thus?
Dem. I, suffer him? Would I not have smelt it out six months before he attempted it?
Syr. Need I be told by you of your foresight?
Dem. I pray he may only continue the same he is at present!
Syr. Just as each person wishes his son to be, so he turns out.
Dem. What news of him? Have you seen him to-day?
Syr. What, your son? (Aside.) I’ll pack him off into the country. (To Demea.) I fancy he’s busy at the farm long before this.
Dem. Are you quite sure he is there?
Syr. What!—when I saw him part of the way myself——
Dem. Very good. I was afraid he might be loitering here.
Syr. And extremely angry too.
Dem. Why so?
Syr. He attacked his brother in the Forum with strong language about this Music-girl.
Dem. Do you really say so?
Syr. Oh dear, he didn’t at all mince the matter; for just as the money was being counted out, the gentleman came upon us by chance, and began exclaiming, “Oh Æschinus, that you should perpetrate these enormities! that you should be guilty of actions so disgraceful to our family!”
Dem. Oh, I shall weep for joy.
Syr. “By this you are not squandering your money only, but your reputation.”
Dem. May he be preserved to me! I trust he will be like his forefathers. (Weeping.)
Syr. (aside.) Heyday!
Dem. Syrus, he is full of these maxims.
Syr. (aside.) Strange, indeed! He had the means at home of learning them.
Dem. I do every thing I can; I spare no pains; I train him up to it: in fine, I bid him look into the lives of men, as though into a mirror, and from others to take an example for himself. Do this, I say——
Syr. Quite right.
Dem. Avoid that——
Syr. Very shrewd.
Dem. This is praiseworthy——
Syr. That’s the thing.
Dem. That is considered blamable——
Syr. Extremely good.
Dem. And then, moreover——
Syr. Upon my honor, I have not the leisure to listen to you just at present: I have got some fish just to my taste, and must take care they are not spoiled; for that would be as much a crime in me, as for you, Demea, not to observe those maxims which you have just been mentioning; and so far as I can, I lay down precepts for my fellow-servants on the very same plan; “this is too salt, that is quite burned up, this is not washed enough, that is very well done; remember and do so another time.” I carefully instruct them so far as I can to the best of my capacity. In short, Demea, I bid them look into their sauce-pans as though into a mirror,[51] and suggest to them what they ought to do. I am sensible these things are trifling which we do; but what is one to do? According as the man is, so must you humor him. Do you wish any thing else?
Dem. That more wisdom may be granted you.
Syr. You will be going off into the country, I suppose?
Dem. Directly.
Syr. For what should you do here, where, if you do give any good precepts, no one will regard them?
Goes into Micio’s house.
[ Scene V.]
Demea, alone.
Dem. (to himself.) I certainly will be off, as he on whose account I came hither has gone into the country. I have a care for him: that alone is my own concern, since my brother will have it so; let him look to the other himself. But who is it I see yonder at a distance? Isn’t it Hegio of our tribe?[52] If I see right, i’faith, it is he. Ah, a man I have been friendly with from a child! Good Gods! we certainly have a great dearth of citizens of that stamp nowadays, with the old-fashioned virtue and honesty. Not in a hurry will any misfortune accrue to the public from him. How glad I am to find some remnants of this race even still remaining; now I feel some pleasure in living. I’ll wait here for him, to ask him how he is, and have some conversation with him.
[ Scene VI.]
Enter Hegio and Geta, conversing, at a distance.
Heg. Oh immortal Gods! a disgraceful action, Geta! What is it you tell me?
Geta. Such is the fact.
Heg. That so ignoble a deed should come from that family! Oh Æschinus, assuredly you haven’t taken after your father in that!
Dem. (apart.) Why surely, he has heard this about the Music-girl; that gives him concern, though a stranger; this father of his thinks nothing of it. Ah me! I wish he were somewhere close at hand to overhear this.
Heg. Unless they do as they ought to do, they shall not come off so easily.
Geta. All our hopes, Hegio, are centred in you; you we have for our only friend; you are our protector, our father. The old man, Simulus, when dying, recommended us to you; if you forsake us, we are undone.
Heg. Beware how you mention that; I neither will do it, nor do I think thaat; with due regard to the ties of relationship, I could.
Dem. (apart.) I’ll accost him. (Approaches Hegio.) Hegio, I bid you welcome right heartily.
Heg. (starting.) Oh! I you are the very man I was looking for. Greetings to you, Demea.
Dem. Why, what’s the matter?
Heg. Your eldest son Æschinus, whom you gave to your brother to adopt, has been acting the part of neither an honest man nor a gentleman.
Dem. What has he been doing?
Heg. You knew my friend and year’s-mate, Simulus?
Dem. Why not?
Heg. He has debauched his daughter, a virgin.
Dem. Hah!
Heg. Stay, Demea. You have not yet heard the worst.
Dem. Is there any thing still worse?
Heg. Worse, by far: for this indeed might in some measure have been borne with. The hour of night prompted him; passion, wine, young blood; ’tis human nature. When he was sensible of what he had done, he came voluntarily to the girl’s mother, weeping, praying, entreating, pledging his honor, vowing that he would take her home.[53] The affair was pardoned, hushed, up, his word taken. The girl from that intercourse became pregnant: this is the tenth month. He, worthy fellow, has provided himself, if it please the Gods, with a Music-girl to live with; the other he has cast off.
Dem. Do you say this for certain?
Heg. The mother of the young woman is among us,[54] the young woman too; the fact speaks for itself; this Geta, besides, according to the common run of servants, not a bad one or of idle habits; he supports them; alone, maintains the whole family; take him, bind him,[55] examine him upon the matter.
Geta. Aye, faith, put me to the torture, Demea, if such is not the fact: besides, he will not deny it. Confront me with him.
Dem. (aside.) I am ashamed; and what to do, or how to answer him, I don’t know.
Pam. (crying out within the house of Sostrata.) Ah me! I am racked with pains! Juno Lucina,[56] bring aid, save me, I beseech thee!
Heg. Hold; is she in labor, pray?
Geta. No doubt of it, Hegio.
Heg. Ah! she is now imploring your protection, Demea; let her obtain from you spontaneously what the power of the law compels you to give. I do entreat the Gods that what befits you may at once be done. But if your sentiments are otherwise, Demea, I will defend both them and him who is dead to the utmost of my power. He was my kinsman:[57] we were brought up together from children, we were companions in the wars and at home, together we experienced the hardships of poverty. I will therefore exert myself, strive, use all methods, in fine lay down my life, rather than forsake these women. What answer do you give me?
Dem. I’ll go find my brother, Hegio: the advice he gives me upon this matter I’ll follow.[58]
Heg. But, Demea, take you care and reflect upon this: the more easy you are in your circumstances, the more powerful, wealthy, affluent, and noble you are, so much the more ought you with equanimity to observe the dictates of justice, if you would have yourselves esteemed as men of probity.
Dem. Go back now;[59] every thing shall be done that is proper to be done.
Heg. It becomes you to act thus. Geta, show me in to Sostrata.
Follows Geta into Sostrata’s house.
Dem. (to himself.) Not without warning on my part have these things happened: I only wish it may end here; but this immoderate indulgence will undoubtedly lead to some great misfortune. I’ll go find my brother, and vent these feelings upon him.
Exit.
[ Scene VII.]
Enter Hegio, from Sostrata’s house, and speaking to her within.
Heg. Be of good heart,[60] Sostrata, and take care and console her as far as you can. I’ll go find Micio, if he is at the Forum, and acquaint him with the whole circumstances in their order; if so it is that he will do his duty by you, let him do so; but if his sentiments are otherwise about this matter, let him give me his answer, that I may know at once what I am to do.
Exit.
[ ACT THE FOURTH.]
[ Scene I.]
Enter Ctesipho and Syrus from the house of Micio.
Ctes. My father gone into the country, say you?
Syr. (with a careless air.) Some time since.
Ctes. Do tell me, I beseech you.
Syr. He is at the farm at this very moment,[61] I warrant—hard at some work or other.
Ctes. I really wish, provided it be done with no prejudice to his health, I wish that he may so effectually tire himself, that, for the next three days together, he may be unable to arise from his bed.
Syr. So be it, and any thing still better than that,[62] if possible.
Ctes. Just so; for I do most confoundedly wish to pass this whole day in merry-making as I have begun it; and for no reason do I detest that farm so heartily as for its being so near town. If it were at a greater distance, night would overtake him there before he could return hither again. Now, when he doesn’t find me there, he’ll come running back here, I’m quite sure; he’ll be asking me where I have been, that I have not seen him all this day: what am I to say?
Syr. Does nothing suggest itself to your mind?
Ctes. Nothing whatever.
Syr. So much the worse[63]—have you no client, friend, or guest?
Ctes. I have; what then?
Syr. You have been engaged with them.
Ctes. When I have not been engaged? That can never do.
Syr. It may.
Ctes. During the daytime; but if I pass the night here, what excuse can I make, Syrus?
Syr. Dear me, how much I do wish it was the custom for one to be engaged with friends at night as well! But you be easy; I know his humor perfectly well. When he raves the most violently, I can make him as gentle as a lamb.
Ctes. In what way?
Syr. He loves to hear you praised: I make a god of you to him, and recount your virtues.
Ctes. What, mine?
Syr. Yours; immediately the tears fall from him as from a child, for very joy. (Starting.) Hah! take care——
Ctes. Why, what’s the matter?
Syr. The wolf in the fable[64]——
Ctes. What! my father?
Syr. His own self.
Ctes. What shall we do, Syrus?
Syr. You only be off in-doors, I’ll see to that.
Ctes. If he makes any inquiries, you have seen me nowhere; do you hear?
Syr. Can you not be quiet?
They retreat to the door of Micio’s house, and Ctesipho stands in the doorway.
[ Scene II.]
Enter Demea, on the other side of the stage.
Dem. (to himself.) I certainly am an unfortunate man. In the first place, I can find my brother nowhere; and then, in the next place, while looking for him, I met a day-laborer[65] from the farm; he says that my son is not in the country, and what to do I know not——
Ctes. (apart.) Syrus!
Syr. (apart.) What’s the matter?
Ctes. (apart.) Is he looking for me?
Syr. (apart.) Yes.
Ctes. (apart.) Undone!
Syr. (apart.) Nay, do be of good heart.
Dem. (to himself.) Plague on it! what ill luck is this? I can not really account for it, unless I suppose myself only born for the purpose of enduring misery. I am the first to feel our misfortunes; the first to know of them all; then the first to carry the news; I am the only one, if any thing does go wrong, to take it to heart.
Syr. (apart.) I’m amused at him; he says that he is the first to know of every thing, while he is the only one ignorant of every thing.
Dem. (to himself.) I’ve now come back; and I’ll go see whether perchance my brother has yet returned.
Ctes. (apart.) Syrus, pray do take care that he doesn’t suddenly rush in upon us here.
Syr. (apart.) Now will you hold your tongue? I’ll take care.
Ctes. (apart.) Never this day will I depend on your management for that, upon my faith; for I’ll shut myself up with her in some cupboard[66]—that’s the safest.
Goes into the house.
Syr. (apart.) Do so, still I’ll get rid of him.
Dem. (seeing Syrus.) But see! there’s that rascal, Syrus.
Syr. (aloud, pretending not to see Demea.) Really, upon my faith, no person can stay here, if this is to be the case! For my part, I should like to know how many masters I have—what a cursed condition this is!
Dem. What’s he whining about? What does he mean? How say you, good sir, is my brother at home?
Syr. What the plague do you talk to me about, “good sir”? I’m quite distracted!
Dem. What’s the matter with you?
Syr. Do you ask the question? Ctesipho has been beating me, poor wretch, and that Music-girl, almost to death.
Dem. Ha! what is it you tell me?
Syr. Aye, see how he has cut my lip. (Pretends to point to it.)
Dem. For what reason?
Syr. He says that she was bought by my advice.
Dem. Did not you tell me, a short time since, that you had seen him on his way into the country?
Syr. I did; but he afterward came back, raving like a madman; he spared nobody—ought he not to have been ashamed to beat an old man? Him whom, only the other day, I used to carry about in my arms when thus high? (Showing.)
Dem. I commend him; O Ctesipho, you take after your father. Well, I do pronounce you a man.
Syr. Commend him? Assuredly he will keep his hands to himself in future, if he’s wise.
Dem. ’Twas done with spirit.
Syr. Very much so, to be beating a poor woman, and me, a slave, who didn’t dare strike him in return; heyday! very spirited indeed!
Dem. He could not have done better: he thought the same as I did, that you were the principal in this affair. But is my brother within?
Syr. He is not.
Dem. I’m thinking where to look for him.
Syr. I know where he is—but I shall not tell you at present.
Dem. Ha! what’s that you say?
Syr. I do say so.
Dem. Then I’ll break your head for you this instant.
Syr. I can’t tell the person’s name he’s gone to, but I know the place where he lives.
Dem. Tell me the place then.
Syr. Do you know the portico down this way, just by the shambles? (Pointing in the direction.)
Dem. How should I but know it?
Syr. Go straight along, right up that street; when you come there, there is a descent right opposite that goes downward, go straight down that; afterward, on this side (extending one hand), there is a chapel: close by it is a narrow lane, where there’s also a great wild fig-tree.
Dem. I know it.
Syr. Go through that—
Dem. But that lane is not a thoroughfare.
Syr. I’ faith, that’s true; dear, dear, would you take me to be in my senses?[67] I made a mistake. Return to the portico; indeed that will be a much nearer way, and there is less going round about: you know the house of Cratinus, the rich man?
Dem. I know it.
Syr. When you have passed that, keep straight along that street on the left hand;[68] when you come to the Temple of Diana, turn to the right; before you come to the city gate,[69] just by that pond, there is a baker’s shop, and opposite to it a joiner’s; there he is.
Dem. What is he doing there?
Syr. He has given some couches to be made, with oaken legs, for use in the open air.[70]
Dem. For you to carouse upon! Very fine! But why do I delay going to him?
Exit.
[ Scene III.]
Syrus alone.
Syr. Go, by all means. I’ll work you to day, you skeleton,[71] as you deserve. Æschinus loiters intolerably; the breakfast’s spoiling; and as for Ctesipho, he’s head and ears in love.[72] I shall now think of myself, for I’ll be off at once, and pick out the very nicest bit, and, leisurely sipping my cups,[73] I’ll lengthen out the day.
Goes into the house.
[ Scene IV.]
Enter Micio and Hegio.
Mic. I can see no reason here, Hegio, that I should be so greatly commended. I do my duty; the wrong that has originated with us I redress. Unless, perhaps, you thought me one of that class of men who think that an injury is purposely done them if you expostulate about any thing they have done; and yet are themselves the first to accuse. Because I have not acted thus, do you return me thanks?
Heg. Oh, far from it; I never led myself to believe you to be otherwise than you are; but I beg, Micio, that you will go with me to the mother of the young woman, and repeat to her the same; what you have told me, do you yourself tell the woman, that this suspicion of Æschinus’s fidelity was incurred on his brother’s account, and that this Music-girl was for him.
Mic. If you think I ought, or if there is a necessity for doing so, let us go.
Heg. You act with kindness; for you’ll then both have relieved her mind who is now languishing in sorrow and affliction, and have discharged your duty. But if you think otherwise, I will tell her myself what you have been saying to me.
Mic. Nay, I’ll go as well.
Heg. You act with kindness; all who are in distressed circumstances are suspicious,[74] to I know not what degree; they take every thing too readily as an affront; they fancy themselves trifled with on account of their helpless condition; therefore it will be more satisfactory for you to justify him to them yourself.
They go into the house of Sostrata.
[ Scene V.]
Enter Æschinus.
I am quite distracted in mind! for this misfortune so unexpectedly to befall me, that I neither know what to do with myself, or how to act! My limbs are enfeebled through fear, my faculties bewildered with apprehension; no counsel is able to find a place within my breast. Alas! how to extricate myself from this perplexity I know not; so strong a suspicion has taken possession of them about me; not without some reason too: Sostrata believes that I have purchased this Music-girl for myself: the old woman informed me of that. For by accident, when she was sent for the midwife, I saw her, and at once went up to her. “How is Pamphila?” I inquired; “is her delivery at hand? Is it for that she is sending for the midwife?” “Away, away, Æschinus,” cries she; “you have deceived us long enough; already have your promises disappointed us sufficiently.” “Ha!” said I; “pray what is the meaning of this?” “Farewell,” she cries; “keep to her who is your choice.” I instantly guessed what it was they suspected, but still I checked myself, that I might not be telling that gossip any thing about my brother, whereby it might be divulged. Now what am I to do? Shall I say she is for my brother, a thing that ought by no means to be repeated any where? However, let that pass. It is possible it might go no further. I am afraid they would not believe it, so many probabilities concur against it: ’twas I myself carried her off; ’twas I, my own self, that paid the money for her; ’twas my own house she was carried to. This I confess has been entirely my own fault. Ought I not to have disclosed this affair, just as it happened, to my father? I might have obtained his consent to marry her. I have been too negligent hitherto; henceforth, then, arouse yourself, Æschinus. This then is the first thing; to go to them and clear myself. I’ll approach the door. (Advances to the door of Sostrata’s house.) Confusion! I always tremble most dreadfully when I go to knock at that door. (Knocking and calling to them within.) Ho there, ho there! it is Æschinus; open the door immediately, some one. (The door opens.) Some person, I know not who, is coming out; I’ll step aside here. (He stands apart.)
[ Scene VI.]
Enter Micio from the house of Sostrata.
Mic. (speaking at the door to Sostrata.) Do as I told you, Sostrata; I’ll go find Æschinus, that he may know how these matters have been settled. (Looking round.) But who was it knocking at the door?
Æsch. (apart.) Heavens, it is my father!—I am undone!
Mic. Æschinus!
Æsch. (aside.) What can be his business here?
Mic. Was it you knocking at this door? (Aside.) He is silent. Why shouldn’t I rally him a little? It would be as well, as he was never willing to trust me with this secret. (To Æschinus.) Don’t you answer me?
Æsch. (confusedly.) It wasn’t I knocked at that door, that I know of.
Mic. Just so; for I wondered what business you could have here. (Apart.) He blushes; all’s well.
Æsch. Pray tell me, father, what business have you there?
Mic. Why, none of my own; but a certain friend of mine just now brought me hither from the Forum to give him some assistance.
Æsch. Why?
Mic. I’ll tell you. There are some women living here; in impoverished circumstances, as I suppose you don’t know them; and, in fact, I’m quite sure, for it is not long since they removed to this place.
Æsch. Well, what next?
Mic. There is a girl living with her mother.
Æsch. Go on.
Mic. This girl has lost her father; this friend of mine is her next of kin; the law obliges him to marry her.[75]
Æsch. (aside.) Undone!
Mic. What’s the matter?
Æsch. Nothing. Very well: proceed.
Mic. He has come to take her with him; for he lives at Miletus.
Æsch. What! To take the girl away with him?
Mic. Such is the fact.
Æsch. All the way to Miletus, pray?[76]
Mic. Yes.
Æsch. (aside.) I’m overwhelmed with grief. (To Micio.) But what of them? What do they say?
Mic. What do you suppose they should? Why, nothing at all. The mother has trumped up a tale, that there is a child by some other man, I know not who, and she does not state the name; she says that he was the first, and that she ought not to be given to the other.
Æsch. Well now, does not this seem just to you after all?
Mic. No.
Æsch. Why not, pray? Is the other to be carrying her away from here?
Mic. Why should he not take her?
Æsch. You have acted harshly and unfeelingly, and even, if, father, I may speak my sentiments more plainly, unhandsomely.
Mic. Why so?
Æsch. Do you ask me? Pray, what do you think must be the state of mind of the man who was first connected with her, who, to his misfortune, may perhaps still love her to distraction, when he sees her torn away from before his face, and borne off from his sight forever? An unworthy action, father!
Mic. On what grounds is it so? Who betrothed her?[77] Who gave her away? When and to whom was she married? Who was the author of all this? Why did he connect himself with a woman who belonged to another?
Æsch. Was it to be expected that a young woman of her age should sit at home, waiting till a kinsman of hers should come from a distance? This, my father, you ought to have represented, and have insisted on it.
Mic. Ridiculous! Was I to have pleaded against him whom I was to support? But what’s all this, Æschinus, to us? What have we to do with them? Let us begone:——What’s the matter? Why these tears?
Æsch. (weeping.) Father, I beseech you, listen to me.
Mic. Æschinus, I have heard and know it all; for I love you, and therefore every thing you do is the more a care to me.
Æsch. So do I wish you to find me deserving of your love, as long as you live, my dear father, as I am sincerely sorry for the offense I have committed, and am ashamed to see you.
Mic. Upon my word I believe it, for I know your ingenuous disposition: but I am afraid that you are too inconsiderate. In what city, pray, do you suppose you live? You have debauched a virgin, whom it was not lawful for you to touch. In the first place then that was a great offense; great, but still natural. Others, and even men of worth, have frequently done the same. But after it happened, pray, did you show any circumspection? Or did you use any foresight as to what was to be done, or how it was to be done? If you were ashamed to tell me of it, by what means was I to come to know it? While you were at a loss upon these points, ten months have been lost. So far indeed as lay in your power, you have periled both yourself and this poor girl, and the child. What did you imagine—that the Gods would set these matters to rights for you while you were asleep, and that she would be brought home to your chamber without any exertions of your own? I would not have you to be equally negligent in other affairs. Be of good heart, you shall have her for your wife.
Æsch. Hah!
Mic. Be of good heart, I tell you.
Æsch. Father, are you now jesting with me, pray?
Mic. I, jesting with you! For what reason?
Æsch. I don’t know; but so anxiously do I wish this to be true, that I am the more afraid it may not be.
Mic. Go home, and pray to the Gods that you may have your wife; be off.
Æsch. What! have my wife now?
Mic. Now.
Æsch. Now?
Mic. Now, as soon as possible.
Æsch. May all the Gods detest me, father, if I do not love you better than even my very eyes!
Mic. What! better than her?
Æsch. Quite as well.
Mic. Very kind of you!
Æsch. Well, where is this Milesian?
Mic. Departed, vanished, gone on board ship; but why do you delay?
Æsch. Father, do you rather go and pray to the Gods; for I know, for certain, that they will rather be propitious to you,[78] as being a much better man than I am.
Mic. I’ll go in-doors, that what is requisite may be prepared. You do as I said, if you are wise.
Goes into his house.
[ Scene VII.]
Æschinus alone.
Æsch. What can be the meaning of this? Is this being a father, or this being a son? If he had been a brother or familiar companion, how could he have been more complaisant! Is he not worthy to be beloved? Is he not to be imprinted in my very bosom? Well then, the more does he impose an obligation on me by his kindness, to take due precaution not inconsiderately to do any thing that he may not wish. But why do I delay going in-doors this instant, that I may not myself delay my own nuptials?
Goes into the house of Micio.
[ Scene VIII.]
Enter Demea.
I am quite tired with walking: May the great Jupiter confound you, Syrus, together with your directions! I have crawled the whole city over; to the gate, to the pond—where not? There was no joiner’s shop there; not a soul could say he had seen my brother; but now I’m determined to sit and wait at his house till he returns.
[ Scene IX.]
Enter Micio from his house.
Mic. (speaking to the people within.) I’ll go and tell them there’s no delay on our part.
Dem. But see here’s the very man: O Micio, I have been seeking you this long time.
Mic. Why, what’s the matter?
Dem. I’m bringing you some new and great enormities of that hopeful youth.
Mic. Just look at that!
Dem. Fresh ones, of blackest dye.
Mic. There now—at it again.
Dem. Ah, Micio! you little know what sort of person he is.
Mic. I do.
Dem. O simpleton! you are dreaming that I’m talking about the Music-girl; this crime is against a virgin and a citizen.
Mic. I know it.
Dem. So then, you know it, and put up with it!
Mic. Why not put up with it?
Dem. Tell me, pray, don’t you exclaim about it? Don’t you go distracted?
Mic. Not I: certainly I had rather[79]——
Dem. There has been a child born.
Mic. May the Gods be propitious to it.
Dem. The girl has no fortune.
Mic. So I have heard.
Dem. And he—must he marry her without one?
Mic. Of course.
Dem. What is to be done then?
Mic. Why, what the case itself points out: the young woman must be brought hither.
Dem. O Jupiter! must that be the way then?
Mic. What can I do else?
Dem. What can you do? If in reality this causes you no concern, to pretend it were surely the duty of a man.
Mic. But I have already betrothed the young woman to him; the matter is settled: the marriage takes place to-day. I have removed all apprehensions. This is rather the duty of a man.
Dem. But does the affair please you, Micio?
Mic. If I were able to alter it, no; now, as I can not, I bear it with patience. The life of man is just like playing with dice:[80] if that which you most want to throw does not turn up, what turns up by chance you must correct by art.
Dem. O rare corrector! of course it is by your art that twenty minæ have been thrown away for a Music-girl; who, as soon as possible, must be got rid of at any price; and if not for money, why then for nothing.
Mic. Not at all, and indeed I have no wish to sell her.
Dem. What will you do with her then?
Mic. She shall be at my house.
Dem. For heaven’s sake, a courtesan and a matron in the same house!
Mic. Why not?
Dem. Do you imagine you are in your senses?
Mic. Really I do think so.
Dem. So may the Gods prosper me, I now see your folly; I believe you are going to do so that you may have somebody to practice music with.
Mic. Why not?
Dem. And the new-made bride to be learning too?
Mic. Of course.
Dem. Having hold of the rope,[81] you will be dancing with them.
Mic. Like enough; and you too along with us, if there’s need.
Dem. Ah me! are you not ashamed of this?
Mic. Demea, do, for once, lay aside this anger of yours, and show yourself as you ought at your son’s wedding, cheerful and good-humored. I’ll just step over to them, and return immediately.
Goes into Sostrata’s house.
[ Scene X.]
Demea alone.
Dem. O Jupiter! here’s a life! here are manners! here’s madness! A wife to be coming without a fortune! A music-wench in the house! A house full of wastefulness! A young man ruined by extravagance! An old man in his dotage!—Should Salvation herself[82] desire it, she certainly could not save this family.
Exit.
[ ACT THE FIFTH.]
[ Scene I.]
Enter Syrus, drunk, and Demea, on the opposite side of the stage.
Syr. Upon my faith, my dear little Syrus, you have taken delicate care of yourself, and have done your duty[83] with exquisite taste; be off with you. But since I’ve had my fill of every thing in-doors, I have felt disposed to take a walk.
Dem. (apart.) Just look at that—there’s an instance of their good training!
Syr. (to himself.) But see, here comes our old man. (Addressing him.) What’s the matter? Why out of spirits?
Dem. Oh you rascal!
Syr. Hold now; are you spouting your sage maxims here?
Dem. If you were my servant——
Syr. Why, you would be a rich man, Demea, and improve your estate.
Dem. I would take care that you should be an example to all the rest.
Syr. For what reason? What have I done?
Dem. Do you ask me? in the midst of this confusion, and during the greatest mischief, which is hardly yet set right, you have been getting drunk, you villain, as though things had been going on well.
Syr. (aside.) Really, I wish I hadn’t come out.
[ Scene II.]
Enter Dromo in haste, from the house of Micio.
Dro. Halloo, Syrus! Ctesipho desires you’ll come back.
Syr. Get you gone.
Pushes him back into the house.
Dem. What is it he says about Ctesipho?
Syr. Nothing.
Dem. How now, you hang-dog, is Ctesipho in the house?
Syr. He is not.
Dem. Then why does he mention him?
Syr. It’s another person; a little diminutive Parasite. Don’t you know him?
Dem. I will know him before long. (Going to the door.)
Syr. (stopping him.) What are you about? Whither are you going?
Dem. (struggling.) Let me alone.
Syr. (holding him.) Don’t, I tell you.
Dem. Won’t you keep your hands off, whip-scoundrel? Or would you like me to knock your brains out this instant?
Rushes into the house.
Syr. He’s gone! no very pleasant boon-companion, upon my faith, particularly to Ctesipho. What am I to do now? Why, even get into some corner till this tempest is lulled, and sleep off this drop of wine. That’s my plan.
Goes into the house, staggering.
[ Scene III.]
Enter Micio, from the house of Sostrata.
Mic. (to Sostrata, within.) Every thing’s ready with us, as I told you, Sostrata, when you like.—Who, I wonder, is making my door fly open with such fury?
Enter Demea in haste, from the house of Micio.
Dem. Alas! what shall I do? How behave? In what terms exclaim, or how make my complaint? O heavens! O earth! O seas of Neptune!
Mic. (apart.) Here’s for you! he has discovered all about the affair; and of course is now raving about it; a quarrel is the consequence; I must assist him,[84] however. Dem. See, here comes the common corrupter of my children.
Mic. Pray moderate your passion, and recover yourself.
Dem. I have moderated it; I am myself; I forbear all reproaches; let us come to the point: was this agreed upon between us,—proposed by yourself, in fact,—that you were not to concern yourself about my son, nor I about yours? Answer me.
Mic. It is the fact,—I don’t deny it.
Dem. Why is he now carousing at your house? Why are you harboring my son? Why do you purchase a mistress for him, Micio? Is it at all fair, that I should have any less justice from you, than you from me? Since I do not concern myself about your son, don’t you concern yourself about mine.
Mic. You don’t reason fairly.
Dem. No?
Mic. For surely it is a maxim of old, that among themselves all things are common to friends.
Dem. Smartly said; you’ve got that speech up for the occasion.
Mic. Listen to a few words, unless it is disagreeable, Demea. In the first place, if the extravagance your sons are guilty of distresses you, pray do reason with yourself. You formerly brought up the two suitably to your circumstances, thinking that your own property would have to suffice for them both; and, of course, you then thought that I should marry. Adhere to that same old rule of yours,—save, scrape together, and be thrifty for them; take care to leave them as much as possible, and take that credit to yourself: my fortune, which has come to them beyond their expectation, allow them to enjoy; of your captial there will be no diminution; what comes from this quarter, set it all down as so much gain. If you think proper impartially to consider these matters in your mind, Demea, you will save me and yourself, and them, considerable uneasiness.
Dem. I don’t speak about the expense; their morals—
Mic. Hold; I understand you; that point I was coming to.[85] There are in men, Demea, many signs from which a conjecture is easily formed; so that when two persons do the same thing, you may often say, this one may be allowed to do it with impunity, the other may not; not that the thing itself is different, but that he is who does it. I see signs in them, so as to feel confident that they will turn out as we wish. I see that they have good sense and understanding, that they have modesty upon occasion, and are affectionate to each other; you may infer that their bent and disposition is of a pliant nature; at any time you like you may reclaim them. But still, you may be apprehensive that they will be somewhat too apt to neglect their interests. O my dear Demea, in all other things we grow wiser with age; this sole vice does old age bring upon men: we are all more solicitous about our own interests than we need be; and in this respect age will make them sharp enough.
Dem. Only take care, Micio, that these fine reasonings of yours, and this easy disposition of yours, do not ruin us in the end.
Mic. Say no more; there’s no danger of that. Now think no further of these matters. Put yourself to-day into my hands; smooth your brow.
Dem. Why, as the occasion requires it, I must do so; but to-morrow I shall be off with my son into the country at daybreak.
Mic. Aye, to-night, for my share; only keep yourself in good-humor for the day.
Dem. I’ll carry off that Music-girl along with me as well.
Mic. You will gain your point; by that means you will keep your son fast there; only take care to secure her.
Dem. I’ll see to that; and what with cooking and grinding, I’ll take care she shall be well covered with ashes, smoke, and meal; besides all this, at the very mid-day[86] I’ll set her gathering stubble; I’ll make her as burned and as black as a coal.
Mic. You quite delight me; now you seem to me to be wise; and for my part I would then compel my son to go to bed with her, even though he should be unwilling.
Dem. Do you banter me? Happy man, to have such a temper! I feel—
Mic. Ah! at it again!
Dem. I’ll have done then at once.
Mic. Go in-doors then, and let’s devote this day to the object[87] to which it belongs.
Goes into the house.
[ Scene IV.]
Demea alone.
Dem. Never was there any person of ever such well-trained habits of life, but that experience, age, and custom are always bringing him something new, or suggesting something; so much so, that what you believe you know you don’t know, and what you have fancied of first importance to you, on making trial you reject; and this is my case at present: for the rigid life I have hitherto led, my race nearly run, I now renounce. Why so?—I have found, by experience, that there is nothing better for a man than an easy temper and complacency. That this is the truth, it is easy for any one to understand on comparing me with my brother. He has always spent his life in ease and gayety; mild, gentle, offensive to no one, having a smile for all, he has lived for himself, and has spent his money for himself; all men speak well of him, all love him. I, again, a rustic, a rigid, cross, self-denying, morose and thrifty person, married a wife; what misery I entailed in consequence! Sons were born—a fresh care. And just look, while I have been studying to do as much as possible for them, I have worn out my life and years in saving; now, in the decline of my days, the return I get from them for my pains is their dislike. He, on the other hand, without any trouble on his part, enjoys a father’s comforts; they love him; me they shun; him they trust with all their secrets, are fond of him, are always with him. I am forsaken; they wish him to live; but my death, forsooth, they are longing for. Thus, after bringing them up with all possible pains, at a trifling cost he has made them his own; thus I bear all the misery, he enjoys the pleasure. Well, then, henceforward let us try, on the other hand, whether I can’t speak kindly and act complaisantly, as he challenges me to it: I also want myself to be loved and highly valued by my friends. If that is to be effected by giving and indulging, I will not be behind him. If our means fail, that least concerns me, as I am the eldest.[88]
[ Scene V.]
Enter Syrus.
Syr. Hark you, Demea, your brother begs you will not go out of the way.
Dem. Who is it?—O Syrus, my friend,[89] save you! how are you? How goes it with you ?
Syr. Very well.
Dem. Very good. (Aside.) I have now for the first time used these three expressions contrary to my nature,—“O Syrus, my friend, how are you?—how goes it with you?” (To Syrus.) You show yourself far from an unworthy servant, and I shall gladly do you a service.
Syr. I thank you.
Dem. Yes, Syrus, it is the truth; and you shall be convinced of it by experience before long.
[ Scene VI.]
Enter Geta, from the house of Sostrata.
Geta (to Sostrata, within). Mistress, I am going to see after them, that they may send for the damsel as soon as possible; but see, here’s Demea. (Accosting him.) Save you!
Dem. O, what’s your name?
Geta. Geta.
Dem. Geta, I have this day come to the conclusion that you are a man of very great worth, for I look upon him as an undoubtedly good servant who has a care for his master; as I have found to be your case, Geta; and for that reason, if any opportunity should offer, I would gladly do you a service. (Aside.) I am practicing the affable, and it succeeds very well.
Geta. You are kind, sir, to think so.
Dem. (aside.) Getting on by degrees—I’ll first make the lower classes my own.
[ Scene VII.]
Enter Æschinus, from the house of Micio.
Æsch. (to himself.) They really are killing me while too intent on performing the nuptials with all ceremony; the whole day is being wasted in their preparations.
Dem. Æschinus! how goes it?
Æsch. Ha, my father! are you here?
Dem. Your father, indeed, both by affection and by nature; as I love you more than my very eyes; but why don’t you send for your wife?
Æsch. So I wish to do; but I am waiting for the music-girl[90] and people to sing the nuptial song.
Dem. Come now, are you willing to listen to an old fellow like me?
Æsch. What is it?
Dem. Let those things alone, the nuptial song, the crowds, the torches,[91] and the music-girls, and order the stone wall in the garden[92] here to be pulled down with all dispatch, and bring her over that way; make but one house of the two; bring the mother and all the domestics over to our house.
Æsch. With all my heart, kindest father.
Dem. (aside.) Well done! now I am called “kind.” My brother’s house will become a thoroughfare; he will be bringing home a multitude, incurring expense in many ways: what matters it to me? I, as the kind Demea, shall get into favor. Now then, bid that Babylonian[93] pay down his twenty minæ. (To Syrus.) Syrus, do you delay to go and do it?
Syr. What am I to do?
Dem. Pull down the wall: and you, Geta, go and bring them across.
Geta. May the Gods bless you, Demea, as I see you so sincere a well-wisher to our family.
Geta and Syrus go into Micio’s house.
Dem. I think they deserve it. What say you, Æschinus, as to this plan?
Æsch. I quite agree to it.
Dem. It is much more proper than that she, being sick and lying-in, should be brought hither through the street.
Æsch. Why, my dear father, I never did see any thing better contrived.
Dem. It’s my way; but see, here’s Micio coming out.
[ Scene VIII.]
Enter Micio, from his house.
Mic. (speaking to Geta, within.) Does my brother order it? Where is he? (To Demea.) Is this your order, Demea?
Dem. Certainly, I do order it, and in this matter, and in every thing else, wish especially to make this family one with ourselves, to oblige, serve, and unite them.
Æsch. Father, pray let it be so.
Mic. I do not oppose it.
Dem. On the contrary, i’ faith, it is what we ought to do: in the first place, she is the mother of his wife (pointing to Æschinus).
Mic. She is. What then?
Dem. An honest and respectable woman.
Mic. So they say.
Dem. Advanced in years.
Mic. I am aware of it.
Dem. Through her years, she is long past child-bearing; there is no one to take care of her; she is a lone woman.
Mic. (aside.) What can be his meaning?
Dem. It is right you should marry her; and that you, Æschinus, should use your endeavors to effect it.
Mic. I, marry her, indeed?
Dem. You.
Mic. I?
Dem. You, I say.
Mic. You are trifling!
Dem. Æschinus, if you are a man, he’ll do it.
Æsch. My dear father——
Mic. What, ass! do you attend to him?
Dem. ’Tis all in vain; it can not be otherwise.
Mic. You are mad!
Æsch. Do let me prevail on you, my father.
Mic. Are you out of your senses? Take yourself off.[94]
Dem. Come, do oblige your son.
Mic. Are you quite in your right mind? Am I, in my five-and-sixtieth year, to be marrying at last? A decrepit old woman too? Do you advise me to do this?
Æsch. Do; I have promised it.[95]
Mic. Promised, indeed; be generous at your own cost, young man.
Dem. Come, what if he should ask a still greater favor?
Mic. As if this was not the greatest!
Dem. Do comply.
Æsch. Don’t make any difficulty.
Dem. Do promise.
Mic. Will you not have done?
Æsch. Not until I have prevailed upon you.
Mic. Really, this is downright force.[96]
Dem. Act with heartiness, Micio.
Mic. Although this seems to me[97] to be wrong, foolish, absurd, and repugnant to my mode of life, yet, if you so strongly wish it, be it so.
Æsch. You act obligingly.
Dem. With reason I love you; but——
Mic. What?
Dem. I will tell you, when my wish has been complied with.
Mic. What now? What remains to be done?
Dem. Hegio here is their nearest relation; he is a connection of ours and poor; we ought to do some good for him.
Mic. Do what?
Dem. There is a little farm here in the suburbs, which you let out; let us give it him to live upon.
Mic. But is it a little one?
Dem. If it were a large one, still it ought to be done; he has been as it were a father to her; he is a worthy man, and connected with us; it would be properly bestowed. In fine, I now adopt that proverb which you, Micio, a short time ago repeated with sense and wisdom—it is the common vice of all, in old age, to be too intent upon our own interests. This stain we ought to avoid: it is a true maxim, and ought to be observed in deed.
Mic. What am I to say to this? Well then, as he desires it (pointing to Æschinus), it shall be given him.
Æsch. My father!
Dem. Now, Micio, you are indeed my brother, both in spirit and in body.
Mic. I am glad of it.
Dem. (aside.) I foil him at his own weapon.[98]
[ Scene IX.]
Enter Syrus, from the house.
Syr. It has been done as you ordered, Demea.
Dem. You are a worthy fellow. Upon my faith,—in my opinion, at least,—I think Syrus ought at once to be made free.
Mic. He free! For what reason?
Dem. For many.
Syr. O my dear Demea! upon my word, you are a worthy man! I have strictly taken care of both these sons of yours, from childhood; I have taught, advised, and carefully instructed them in every thing I could.
Dem. The thing is evident; and then besides all this, to cater for them, secretly bring home a wench, prepare a morning entertainment;[99] these are the accomplishments of no ordinary person.
Syr. O, what a delightful man!
Dem. Last of all, he assisted to-day in purchasing this Music-wench—he had the management of it; it is right he should be rewarded; other servants will be encouraged thereby: besides, he (pointing to Æschinus) desires it to be so.
Mic. (to Æschinus.) Do you desire this to be done?
Æsch. I do wish it.
Mic. Why then, if you desire it, just come hither, Syrus, to me (performing the ceremony of manumission); be a free man.[100]
Syr. You act generously; I return my thanks to you all;—and to you, Demea, in particular.
Dem. I congratulate you.
Æsch. And I.
Syr. I believe you. I wish that this joy were made complete—that I could see my wife, Phrygia,[101] free as well.
Dem. Really, a most excellent woman.
Syr. And the first to suckle your grandchild, his son, today (pointing to Æschinus).
Dem. Why really, in seriousness, if she was the first to do so, there is no doubt she ought to be made free.
Mic. What, for doing that?
Dem. For doing that; in fine, receive the amount from me[102] at which she is valued.
Syr. May all the Gods always grant you, Demea, all you desire.
Mic. Syrus, you have thrived pretty well to-day.
Dem. If, in addition, Micio, you will do your duty, and lend him a little ready money in hand for present use, he will soon repay you.
Mic. Less than this (snapping his fingers).
Æsch. He is a deserving fellow.
Syr. Upon my word, I will repay it; only lend it me.
Æsch. Do, father.
Mic. I’ll consider of it afterward.
Dem. He’ll do it, Syrus.
Syr. O most worthy man!
Æsch. O most kind-hearted father!
Mic. How is this? What has so suddenly changed your disposition, Demea? What caprice is this? What means this sudden liberality?[103]
Dem. I will tell you:—That I may convince you of this, Micio, that the fact that they consider you an easy and kind-hearted man, does not proceed from your real life, nor, indeed, from a regard for virtue and justice; but from your humoring, indulging, and pampering them. Now therefore, Æschinus, if my mode of life has been displeasing to you, because I do not quite humor you in every thing, just or unjust, I have done: squander, buy, do what you please. But if you would rather have one to reprove and correct those faults, the results of which, by reason of your youth, you can not see, which you pursue too ardently, and are thoughtless upon, and in due season to direct you; behold me ready to do it for you.
Æsch. Father, we leave it to you; you best know what ought to be done. But what is to be done about my brother?
Dem. I consent. Let him have his mistress:[104] with her let him make an end of his follies.
Mic. That’s right. (To the Audience.) Grant us your applause.