The Comedies of Terence

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THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.

Pamphilus seduces Glycerium, wrongfully supposed to be a sister of a Courtesan, an Andrian by birth; and she having become pregnant, he gives his word that she shall be his wife; but his father has engaged for him another, the daughter of Chremes; and when he discovers the intrigue he pretends that the nuptials are about to take place, desiring to learn what intentions his son may have. By the advice of Davus, Pamphilus does not resist; but Chremes, as soon as he has seen the little child born of Glycerium, breaks off the match, and declines him for a son-in-law. Afterward, this Glycerium, unexpectedly discovered to be his own daughter, he bestows as a wife on Pamphilus, the other on Charinus.

The poet, when first he applied his mind to writing, thought that the only duty which devolved on him was, that the Plays he should compose might please the public. But he perceives that it has fallen out entirely otherwise; for he is wasting his labor in writing Prologues, not for the purpose of relating the plot, but to answer the slanders of a malevolent old Poet.20 Now I beseech you, give your attention to the thing which they impute as a fault. Menander composed the Andrian21 and the Perinthian.22 He who knows either of them well, will know them both; they are in plot not very different, and yet they have been composed in different language and style. What suited, he confesses he has transferred into the Andrian from the Perinthian, and has employed them as his own. These parties censure this proceeding; and on this point they differ from him, that Plays ought not to be mixed up together. By being thus knowing, do they not show that they know nothing at all? For while they are censuring him, they are censuring Nævius, Plautus, and Ennius,23 whom our Poet has for his precedents; whose carelessness he prefers to emulate, rather than the mystifying carefulness24 of those parties. Therefore, I advise them to be quiet in future, and to cease to slander; that they may not be made acquainted with their own misdeeds. Be well disposed, then; attend with unbiased mind, and consider the matter, that you may determine what hope is left; whether the Plays which he shall in future compose anew, are to be witnessed, or are rather to be driven off the stage.

Scene I.

Enter Simo and Sosia, followed by Servants carrying provisions.

Simo (to the Servants.) Do you carry those things away in-doors; begone. (Beckoning to Sosia.) Sosia, just step here; I want a few words with you.

Sosia. Consider it as said; that these things are to be taken care of, I suppose.25

Sim. No, it’s another matter.

Sos. What is there that my ability can effect for you more than this?

Sim. There’s no need of that ability in the matter which I have in hand; but of those qualities which I have ever known as existing in you, fidelity and secrecy.

Sos. I await your will.

Sim. Since I purchased you, you know that, from a little child, your servitude with me has always been easy and light. From a slave I made you my freedman;26 for this reason, because you served me with readiness. The greatest recompense that I possessed, I bestowed upon you.

Sos. I bear it in mind.

Sim. I am not changed.

Sos. If I have done or am doing aught that is pleasing to you, Simo, I am glad that it has been done; and that the same has been gratifying to you, I consider sufficient thanks. But this is a cause of uneasiness to me; for the recital is, as it were, a censure27 to one forgetful of a kindness. But tell me, in one word, what it is that you want with me.

Sim. I’ll do so. In the first place, in this affair I give you notice: this, which you suppose to be such, is not a real marriage.

Sos. Why do you pretend it then?

Sim. You shall hear all the matter from the beginning; by that means you’ll be acquainted with both my son’s mode of life and my own design, and what I want you to do in this affair. For after he had passed youthfulness,28 Sosia, and had obtained free scope of living, (for before, how could you know or understand his disposition, while youthful age, fear, and a master29 were checking him?)—

Sos. That’s true.

Sim. What all young men, for the most part, do,—devote their attention to some particular pursuit, either to training horses or dogs for hunting, or to the philosophers;30 in not one of these did he engage in particular beyond the rest, and yet in all of them in a moderate degree. I was pleased.

Sos. Not without reason; for this I deem in life to be especially advantageous; that one do nothing to excess.31

Sim. Such was his mode of life; readily to bear and to comply with all; with whomsoever he was in company, to them to resign himself; to devote himself to their pursuits; at variance with no one; never preferring himself to them. Thus most readily you may acquire praise without envy, and gain friends.

Sos. He has wisely laid down his rule of life; for in these days obsequiousness begets friends; sincerity, dislike.

Sim. Meanwhile, three years ago,32 a certain woman from Andros removed hither into this neighborhood, driven by poverty and the neglect of her relations, of surpassing beauty and in the bloom of youth.

Sos. Ah! I’m afraid that this Andrian will bring some mischief.

Sim. At first, in a modest way, she passed her life with thriftiness and in hardship, seeking a livelihood with her wool and loom. But after an admirer made advances, promising her a recompense, first one and then another; as the disposition of all mankind has a downward tendency from industry toward pleasure, she accepted their proposals, and then began to trade upon her beauty. Those who then were her admirers, by chance, as it often happens, took my son thither that he might be in their company. Forthwith I said to myself, “He is surely caught; he is smitten.”33 In the morning I used to observe their servant-boys coming or going away; I used to make inquiry, “Here, my lad, tell me, will you, who had Chrysis yesterday?” for that was the name of the Andrian (touching Sosia on the arm).

Sos. I understand.

Sim. Phædrus, or Clinias, or Niceratus, they used to say; for these three then loved her at the same time. “Well now, what did Pamphilus do?” “What? He gave his contribution;34 he took part in the dinner.” Just so on another day I made inquiry, but I discovered nothing whatever that affected Pamphilus. In fact, I thought him sufficiently proved, and a great pattern of continence; for he who is brought into contact with dispositions of that sort, and his feelings are not aroused even under such circumstances, you may be sure that he is already capable of undertaking the governance of his own life. This pleased me, and every body with one voice began to say all kinds of flattering things, and to extol my good fortune, in having a son endowed with such a disposition. What need is there of talking? Chremes, influenced by this report, came to me of his own accord, to offer his only daughter as a wife to my son, with a very large portion. It pleased me; I betrothed him; this was the day appointed for the nuptials.

Sos. What then stands in the way? Why should they not take place?

Sim. You shall hear. In about a few days after these things had been agreed on, Chrysis, this neighbor, dies.

Sos. Bravo! You’ve made me happy. I was afraid for him on account of Chrysis.

Sim. Then my son was often there, with those who had admired Chrysis; with them he took charge of the funeral; sorrowful, in the mean time, he sometimes wept with them in condolence. Then that pleased me. Thus I reflected: “He by reason of this slight intimacy takes her death so much to heart; what if he himself had wooed her? What will he do for me his father?” All these things I took to be the duties of a humane disposition and of tender feelings. Why do I detain you with many words? Even I myself,35 for his sake, went forth to the funeral, as yet suspecting no harm.

Sos. Ha! what is this?

Sim. You shall know. She is brought out; we proceed. In the mean time, among the females who were there present, I saw by chance one young woman of beauteous form.

Sos. Very likely.

Sim. And of countenance, Sosia, so modest, so charming, that nothing could surpass. As she appeared to me to lament beyond the rest, and as she was of a figure handsome and genteel beyond the other women, I approached the female attendants;36 I inquired who she was. They said that she was the sister of Chrysis. It instantly struck my mind: “Ay, ay, this is it; hence those tears, hence that sympathy.”

Sos. How I dread what you are coming to!

Sim. The funeral procession meanwhile advances; we follow; we come to the burying-place.37 She is placed upon the pile; they weep. In the mean time, this sister, whom I mentioned, approached the flames too incautiously, with considerable danger. There, at that moment, Pamphilus, in his extreme alarm, discovers his well-dissembled and long-hidden passion; he runs up, clasps the damsel by the waist. “My Glycerium,” says he, “what are you doing? Why are you going to destroy yourself?” Then she, so that you might easily recognize their habitual attachment, weeping, threw herself back upon him—how affectionately!

Sos. What do you say?

Sim. I returned thence in anger, and hurt at heart: and yet there was not sufficient ground for reproving him. He might say; “What have I done? How have I deserved this, or offended, father? She who wished to throw herself into the flames, I prevented; I saved her.” The defense is a reasonable one.

Sos. You judge aright; for if you censure him who has assisted to preserve life, what are you to do to him who causes loss or misfortune to it?

Sim. Chremes comes to me next day, exclaiming: “Disgraceful conduct!”—that he had ascertained that Pamphilus was keeping this foreign woman as a wife. I steadfastly denied that to be the fact. He insisted that it was the fact. In short, I then left him refusing to bestow his daughter.

Sos. Did not you then reprove your son?

Sim. Not even this was a cause sufficiently strong for censuring him.

Sos. How so? Tell me.

Sim. “You yourself, father,” he might say, “have prescribed a limit to these proceedings. The time is near, when I must live according to the humor of another; meanwhile, for the present allow me to live according to my own.”

Sos. What room for reproving him, then, is there left?

Sim. If on account of his amour he shall decline to take a wife, that, in the first place, is an offense on his part to be censured. And now for this am I using my endeavors, that, by means of the pretended marriage, there may be real ground for rebuking him, if he should refuse; at the same time, that if that rascal Davus has any scheme, he may exhaust it now, while his knaveries can do no harm: who, I do believe, with hands, feet, and all his might, will do every thing; and more for this, no doubt, that he may do me an ill turn, than to oblige my son.

Sos. For what reason?

Sim. Do you ask? Bad heart, bad disposition. Whom, however, if I do detect—But what need is there of talking? If it should turn out, as I wish, that there is no delay on the part of Pamphilus, Chremes remains to be prevailed upon by me; and I do hope that all will go well. Now it’s your duty to pretend these nuptials cleverly, to terrify Davus; and watch my son, what he’s about, what schemes he is planning with him.

Sos. ’Tis enough; I’ll take care; now let’s go in-doors.

Sim. You go first; I’ll follow.

Sosia goes into the house of Simo.

Sim. (to himself.) There’s no doubt but that my son doesn’t wish for a wife; so alarmed did I perceive Davus to be just now, when he heard that there was going to be a marriage. But the very man is coming out of the house.

Stands aside.

Scene II.

Enter Davus from the house of Simo.

Dav. (aloud to himself.) I was wondering if this matter was to go off thus; and was continually dreading where my master’s good humor would end; for, after he had heard that a wife would not be given to his son, he never uttered a word to any one of us, or took it amiss.

Sim. (apart, overhearing him.) But now he’ll do so: and that, I fancy, not without heavy cost to you.

Dav. (to himself.) He meant this, that we, thus unsuspecting, should be led away by delusive joy; that now in hope, all fear being removed, we might during our supineness be surprised, so that there might be no time for planning a rupture of the marriage. How clever!

Sim. (apart.) The villain! what does he say?

Dav. (overhearing him, to himself.) It’s my master, and I didn’t see him.

Sim. Davus.

Dav. Well, what is it?

Sim. Just step this way to me.

Dav. (to himself.) What does he want?

Sim. What are you saying?

Dav. About what?

Sim. Do you ask the question? There’s a report that my son’s in love.

Dav. The public troubles itself about that,38 of course.

Sim. Will you attend to this, or not?

Dav. Certainly, I will, to that.

Sim. But for me to inquire now into these matters, were the part of a severe father. For what he has done hitherto, doesn’t concern me at all. So long as his time of life prompted to that course, I allowed him to indulge his inclination: now this day brings on another mode of life, demands other habits. From this time forward, I do request, or if it is reasonable, I do entreat you, Davus, that he may now return to the right path.

Dav. (aside.) What can this mean?

Sim. All who are intriguing take it ill to have a wife given them.

Dav. So they say.

Sim. And if any one has adopted a bad instructor in that course, he generally urges the enfeebled mind to pursuits still more unbecoming.

Dav. I’faith, I do not comprehend.

Sim. No? Ha——

Dav. No—I am Davus, not Œdipus.39

Sim. Of course then, you wish me to speak plainly in what further I have to say.

Dav. Certainly, by all means.

Sim. If I this day find out that you are attempting any trickery about this marriage, to the end that it may not take place; or are desirous that in this matter it should be proved how knowing you are; I’ll hand you over, Davus, beaten with stripes, to the mill,40 even to your dying day, upon this condition and pledge, that if ever I release you, I shall grind in your place. Now, do you understand this? Or not yet even this?

Dav. Yes, perfectly: you have now spoken so plainly upon the subject, you have not used the least circumlocution.

Sim. In any thing would I more willingly allow myself to be imposed upon than in this matter.

Dav. Fair words, I entreat.

Sim. You are ridiculing me: you don’t at all deceive me. I give you warning, don’t act rashly, and don’t say you were not warned. Take care.

Shaking his stick, goes into the house.

Scene III.

Davus alone.

Dav. (to himself.) Assuredly, Davus, there’s no room for slothfulness or inactivity, so far as I’ve just now ascertained the old man’s mind about the marriage; which if it is not provided against by cunning, will be bringing either myself or my master to ruin. What to do, I am not determined; whether I should assist Pamphilus or obey the old man. If I desert the former, I fear for his life; if I assist him, I dread the other’s threats, on whom it will be a difficult matter to impose. In the first place, he has now found out about this amour; with hostile feelings he watches me, lest I should be devising some trickery against the marriage. If he discovers it, I’m undone; or even if he chooses to allege any pretext, whether rightfully or wrongfully, he will consign me headlong to the mill. To these evils this one is besides added for me. This Andrian, whether she is his wife, or whether his mistress, is pregnant by Pamphilus. It is worth while to hear their effrontery; for it is an undertaking worthy of those in their dotage, not of those who dote in love;41 whatever she shall bring forth, they have resolved to rear;42 and they are now contriving among themselves a certain scheme, that she is a citizen of Attica. There was formerly a certain old man of this place, a merchant; he was shipwrecked off the Isle of Andros; he died. They say that there, the father of Chrysis, on that occasion, sheltered this girl, thrown on shore, an orphan, a little child. What nonsense! To myself at least it isn’t very probable; the fiction pleases them, however. But Mysis is coming out of the house. Now I’ll betake myself hence to the Forum,43 that I may meet with Pamphilus, lest his father should take him by surprise about this matter.

Exit.

Scene IV.

Enter Mysis from the house of Glycerium.

Mys. (speaking at the door to Archylis within.) I’ve heard you already, Archylis; you request Lesbia to be fetched. Really, upon my faith, she is a wine-bibbing44 and a rash woman, and not sufficiently trustworthy for you to commit to her care a female at her first delivery; is she still to be brought? (She receives an answer from within, and comes forward.) Do look at the inconsiderateness of the old woman; because she is her pot-companion. Ye Gods, I do entreat you, give her ease in her delivery, and to that woman an opportunity of making her mistakes elsewhere in preference. But why do I see Pamphilus so out of spirits? I fear what it may be. I’ll wait, that I may know whether this sorrow portends any disaster.

Stands apart.

Scene V.

Enter Pamphilus, wringing his hands.

Pam. (to himself.) Is it humane to do or to devise this? Is this the duty of a father?

Mys. (apart.) What does this mean?

Pam. (to himself.) O, by our faith in the Gods! what is, if this is not, an indignity? He had resolved that he himself would give me a wife to-day; ought I not to have known this beforehand? Ought it not to have been mentioned previously?

Mys. (apart.) Wretched me! What language do I hear?

Pam. (to himself.) What does Chremes do? He who had declared that he would not intrust his daughter to me as a wife; because he himself sees me unchanged he has changed. Thus perversely does he lend his aid, that he may withdraw wretched me from Glycerium. If this is effected, I am utterly undone. That any man should be so unhappy in love, or so unfortunate as I am! Oh, faith of Gods and men! shall I by no device be able to escape this alliance with Chremes? In how many ways am I contemned, and held in scorn? Every thing done, and concluded! Alas! once rejected I am sought again; for what reason? Unless perhaps it is this, which I suspect it is: they are rearing some monster,45 and as she can not be pushed off upon any one else, they have recourse to me.

Mys. (apart.) This language has terrified wretched me with apprehension.

Pam. (to himself.) But what am I to say about my father? Alas! that he should so thoughtlessly conclude an affair of such importance! Passing me in the Forum just now, he said, “Pamphilus, you must be married to-day: get ready; be off home.” He seemed to me to say this: “Be off this instant, and go hang yourself.” I was amazed; think you that I was able to utter a single word, or any excuse, even a frivolous, false, or lame one? I was speechless. But if any one were to ask me now what I would have done, if I had known this sooner, why, I would have done any thing rather than do this. But now, what course shall I first adopt? So many cares beset me, which rend my mind to pieces; love, sympathy for her, the worry of this marriage; then, respect for my father, who has ever, until now, with such an indulgent disposition, allowed me to do whatever was agreeable to my feelings. Ought I to oppose him? Ah me! I am in uncertainty what to do.

Mys. (apart.) I’m wretchedly afraid how this uncertainty is to terminate. But now there’s an absolute necessity, either for him to speak to her, or for me to speak to him about her. While the mind is in suspense, it is swayed by a slight impulse one way or the other.

Pam. (overhearing her.) Who is it speaking here? (Seeing her.) Mysis? Good-morrow to you.

Mys. Oh! Good-morrow to you, Pamphilus.

Pam. How is she?

Mys. Do you ask? She is oppressed with grief,46 and on this account the poor thing is anxious, because some time ago the marriage was arranged for this day. Then, too, she fears this, that you may forsake her.

Pam. Ha! could I attempt that? Could I suffer her, poor thing, to be deceived on my account? She, who has confided to me her affection, and her entire existence? She, whom I have held especially dear to my feelings as my wife? Shall I suffer her mind, well and chastely trained and tutored, to be overcome by poverty and corrupted? I will not do it.

Mys. I should have no fear if it rested with yourself alone; but whether you may be able to withstand compulsion—

Pam. Do you deem me so cowardly, so utterly ungrateful, inhuman, and so brutish, that neither intimacy, nor affection, nor shame, can move or admonish me to keep faith?

Mys. This one thing I know, that she is deserving that you should not forget her.

Pam. Forget her? Oh Mysis, Mysis, at this moment are those words of Chrysis concerning Glycerium written on my mind. Now at the point of death, she called me; I went to her; you had withdrawn; we were alone; she began: “My dear Pamphilus, you see her beauty and her youth; and it is not unknown to you to what extent both of these are now of use to her, in protecting both her chastity and her interests. By this right hand I do entreat you, and by your good Genius,47 by your own fidelity, and by her bereft condition, do not withdraw yourself from her, or forsake her; if I have loved you as my own brother, or if she has always prized you above all others, or has been obedient to you in all things. You do I give to her as a husband, friend, protector, father. This property of mine do I intrust to you, and commit to your care.” She placed her in my hands; that instant, death came upon her. I accepted her; having accepted, I will protect her.

Mys. So indeed I hope. (Moving.)

Pam. But why are you leaving her?

Mys. I’m going to fetch the midwife.48

Pam. Make all haste. And—do you hear?—take care, and not one word about the marriage, lest that too should add to her illness.

Mys. I understand.

Exeunt severally.

Scene I.

Enter Charinus and Byrrhia.49

Char. How say you, Byrrhia? Is she to be given in marriage to Pamphilus to-day?

Byr. It is so.

Char. How do you know?

Byr. I heard it just now from Davus at the Forum.

Char. Woe unto wretched me! As, hitherto, until now, my mind has been racked amid hope and fear; so, since hope has been withdrawn, wearied with care, it sinks overwhelmed.

Byr. By my troth, Charinus, since that which you wish can not come to pass, prithee, do wish that which can.

Char. I wish for nothing else but Philumena.

Byr. Alas! How much better were it for you to endeavor to expel that passion from your mind, than to be saying that by which your desire is to no purpose still more inflamed.

Char. We all, when we are well, with ease give good advice to the sick. If you were in my situation, you would think otherwise.

Byr. Well, well, just as you like.

Char. (looking down the side scene.) But I see Pamphilus; I’m determined I’ll try every thing before I despair.

Byr. (aside) What does he mean?

Char. I will entreat his own self; I will supplicate him; I will disclose to him my love. I think that I shall prevail upon him to put off the marriage for some days at least; in the mean time, something will turn up, I trust.

Byr. That something is nothing.

Char. Byrrhia, how seems it to you? Shall I accost him?

Byr. Why not? Should you not prevail, that at least he may look upon you as a gallant ready provided for him, if he marries her.

Char. Away with you to perdition with that vile suggestion, you rascal!

Scene II.

Enter Pamphilus.

Pam. I espy Charinus. (Accosting him.) Good-morrow!

Char. O, good-morrow. Pamphilus, I’m come to you, seeking hope, safety, counsel, and assistance.

Pam. I’faith, I have neither time for counsel, nor resources for assistance. But what’s the matter now?

Char. To-day you are going to take a wife?

Pam. So they say.

Char. Pamphilus, if you do that, you behold me this day for the last time.

Pam. Why so?

Char. Ah me! I dread to tell it; prithee, do you tell it, Bvrrhia.

Byr. I’ll tell it.

Pam. What is it?

Byr. He’s in love with your betrothed.

Pam. Assuredly he’s not of my way of thinking. Come now, tell me, have you had any more to do with her, Charinus?

Char. Oh Pamphilus, nothing.

Pam. How much I wish you had.

Char. Now, by our friendship and by my affection, I do beseech you, in the first place, not to marry her.

Pam. For my own part I’ll use my endeavors.

Char. But if that can not be, or if this marriage is agreeable to you—

Pam. Agreeable to me?

Char. Put it off for some days at least, while I go elsewhere, that I may not be witness.

Pam. Now listen, once for all: I think it, Charinus, to be by no means the part of an ingenuous man, when he confers nothing, to expect that it should be considered as an obligation on his part. I am more desirous to avoid this match, than you to gain it.

Char. You have restored me to life.

Pam. Now, if you can do any thing, either you yourself, or Byrrhia here, manage, fabricate, invent, contrive some means, whereby she may be given to you; this I shall aim at, how she may not be given to me.

Char. I am satisfied.

Pam. Most opportunely I perceive Davus, on whose advice I have depended.

Char. (turning to Byrrhia.) But you, i’faith, tell me nothing,50 except those things which there is no need for knowing. (Pushing him away.) Get you gone from here.

Byr. Certainly I will, and with all my heart.

Exit.

Scene III.

Enter Davus in haste.

Dav. (not seeing Pamphilus and Charinus.) Ye gracious Gods, what good news I bring! But where shall I find Pamphilus, that I may remove the apprehension in which he now is, and fill his mind with joy—?

Char. (apart to Pamphilus.) He’s rejoiced about something, I don’t know what.

Pam. (apart.) It’s of no consequence; he hasn’t yet heard of these misfortunes.

Dav. (to himself.) For I do believe now, if he has already heard that a marriage is prepared for him—

Char. (apart.) Don’t you hear him?

Dav. (to himself.) He is seeking me distractedly all the city over. But where shall I look for him? Or in which direction now first to betake me—

Char. (apart to Pamphilus.) Do you hesitate to accost him?

Dav. (to himself.) I have it. (Moving on.)

Pam. Davus, come here! Stop!

Dav. Who’s the person that’s—(Turning round.) O Pamphilus, you are the very man I’m looking for. Well done, Charinus! both in the nick of time: I want you both.

Char. Davus, I’m undone!

Dav. Nay but, do hear this.

Pam. I’m utterly ruined!

Dav. I know what you are afraid of.

Char. I’faith, my life indeed is really in danger.

Dav. (to Charinus.) And what you are afraid of, I know.

Pam. My marriage—

Dav. As if I did not know it?

Pam. This day—

Dav. Why keep dinning me with it, when I know it all? (To Pamphilus.) This are you afraid of, lest you should marry her; and you (to Charinus,) lest you should not marry her.

Char. You understand the matter.

Pam. That’s the very thing.

Dav. And that very thing is in no danger; trust me for that.

Pam. I do entreat you, release wretched me as soon as possible from this apprehension.

Dav. Well, then, I will release you; Chremes is not going to give you his daughter at present.

Pam. How do you know?

Dav. You shall know. Your father just now laid hold of me; he said that a wife was to be given you to-day, and many other things as well, which just now I haven’t time to relate. Hastening to you immediately, I ran on to the Forum that I might tell you these things. When I didn’t find you, I ascended there to a high place.51 I looked around; you were nowhere. There by chance I saw Byrrhia, his servant (pointing to Charinus). I inquired of him; he said he hadn’t seen you. This puzzled me. I considered what I was to do. As I was returning in the mean time, a surmise from the circumstances themselves occurred to me: “How now,—a very small amount of good cheer; he out of spirits; a marriage all of a sudden; these things don’t agree.”

Pam. But to what purpose this?

Dav. I forthwith betook myself to the house of Chremes. When I arrived there—stillness before the door;52 then I was pleased at that.

Char. You say well.

Pam. Proceed.

Dav. I stopped there. In the mean time I saw no one going in, no one going out; no matron at the house,53 no preparation, no bustle. I drew near; looked in—

Pam. I understand; a considerable indication.

Dav. Do these things seem to accord with a wedding?

Pam. I think not, Davus.

Dav. Think, do you say? You don’t view it rightly; the thing is certain. Besides, coming away from there I saw the servant-boy of Chremes carrying some vegetables and little fishes, an obol’s worth,54 for the old man’s dinner.

Char. This day, Davus, have I been delivered by your means.

Dav. And yet not at all.

Char. Why so? Surely he will not give her to him, after all this. (Pointing to Pamphilus.)

Dav. You silly fellow! as though it were a necessary consequence that if he doesn’t give her to him you should marry her: unless, indeed, you look about you; unless you entreat and make court to the old man’s friends.

Char. You advise well. I’ll go; although, upon my faith, this hope has often eluded me already. Farewell!

Exit.

Scene IV.

Pamphilus and Davus.

Pam. What then does my father mean? Why does he thus make pretense?

Dav. I’ll tell you. If now he were angry with you, because Chremes will not give you a wife, he would seem to himself to be unjust, and that not without reason, before he has ascertained your feelings as to the marriage, how they are disposed. But if you refuse to marry her, in that case he will transfer the blame to you; then such disturbances will arise.

Pam. I will submit to any thing from him.

Dav. He is your father, Pamphilus. It is a difficult matter. Besides, this woman is defenseless. No sooner said than done; he will find some pretext for driving her away from the city.

Pam. Driving her away?

Dav. Aye, and quickly too.

Pam. Tell me then, Davus, what am I to do?

Dav. Say that you will marry her.

Pam. (starting.) Ha!

Dav. What’s the matter?

Pam. What, am I to say so?

Dav. Why not?

Pam. Never will I do it.

Dav. Don’t say so.

Pam. Don’t attempt to persuade me.

Dav. Consider what will be the result of it.

Pam. That I shall be deprived of the one, and fixed with the other.

Dav. Not so. In fact, I think it will be thus: Your father will say: “I wish you to marry a wife to-day.” You reply: “I’ll marry her.” Tell me, how can he raise a quarrel with you? Thus you will cause all the plans which are now arranged by him to be disarranged, without any danger; for this is not to be doubted, that Chremes will not give you his daughter. Therefore do not hesitate in those measures which you are taking, on this account, lest he should change his sentiments. Tell your father that you consent; so that although he may desire it, he may not be able to be angry at you with reason. For that which you rely on, I will easily refute; “No one,” you think, “will give a wife to a person of these habits.” But he will find a beggar for you, rather than allow you to be corrupted by a mistress. If, however, he shall believe that you bear it with a contented mind, you will render him indifferent; at his leisure he will look out for another wife for you; in the mean time something lucky may turn up.

Pam. Do you think so?

Dav. It really is not a matter of doubt.

Pam. Consider to what you are persuading me.

Dav. Nay, but do be quiet.

Pam. Well, I’ll say it; but, that he mayn’t come to know that she has had a child by me, is a thing to be guarded against; for I have promised to bring it up.

Dav. Oh, piece of effrontery.

Pam. She entreated me that I would give her this pledge, by which she might be sure she should not be deserted.

Dav. It shall be attended to; but your father’s coming. Take care that he doesn’t perceive that you are out of spirits.

Scene V.

Enter Simo, at a distance.

Sim. (apart to himself.) I’ve come back to see what they are about, or what scheme they are hatching.

Dav. (to Pamphilus.) He has no doubt at present but that you’ll refuse to marry. Having considered his course, he’s come from a retired spot somewhere or other; he hopes that he has framed a speech by which to disconcert you; do you take care, then, to be yourself.

Pam. If I am only able, Davus.

Dav. Trust me for that, Pamphilus, I tell you; your father will never this day exchange a single word with you, if you say that you will marry.

Scene VI.

Enter Byrrhia, unperceived, at a distance behind Simo.

Byr. (apart to himself.) My master has ordered me, leaving my business, to keep an eye on Pamphilus to-day, what he is doing with regard to the marriage. I was to learn it; for that reason, I have now followed him55 (pointing to Simo) as he came hither. Himself, as well, I see standing with Davus close at hand; I’ll note this.

Sim. (apart to himself.) I see that both of them are here.

Dav. (in a low voice to Pamphilus.) Now then, be on your guard.

Sim. Pamphilus!

Dav. (in a low voice.) Look round at him as though taken unawares.

Pam. (turning round sharply.) What, my father!

Dav. (in a low voice.) Capital!

Sim. I wish you to marry a wife to-day, as I was saying.

Byr. (apart.) Now I’m in dread for our side, as to what he will answer.

Pam. Neither in that nor in any thing else shall you ever find any hesitation in me.

Byr. (apart.) Hah!

Dav. (in a low voice to Pamphilus.) He is struck dumb.

Byr. (apart.) What a speech!

Sim. You act as becomes you, when that which I ask I obtain with a good grace.

Dav. (aside to Pamphilus.) Am I right?

Byr. My master, so far as I learn, has missed his wife.

Sim. Now, then, go in-doors, that you mayn’t be causing delay when you are wanted.

Pam. I’ll go.

Goes into the house.

Byr. (apart.) Is there, in no case, putting trust in any man? That is a true proverb which is wont to be commonly quoted, that “all had rather it to be well for themselves than for another.” I remember noticing, when I saw her, that she was a young woman of handsome figure; wherefore I am the more disposed to excuse Pamphilus, if he has preferred that he himself, rather than the other, should embrace her in his slumbers. I’ll carry back these tidings, that, in return for this evil he may inflict evil upon me.56

Exit.

Scene VII.

Simo and Davus.

Dav. (aside, coming away from the door of the house.) He now supposes that I’m bringing some trick to bear against him, and that on that account I’ve remained here.

Sim. What does he say, Davus?57

Dav. Just as much as nothing.58

Sim. What, nothing? Eh?

Dav. Nothing at all.

Sim. And yet I certainly was expecting something.

Dav. It has turned out contrary to your expectations. (Aside.) I perceive it; this vexes the man.

Sim. Are you able to tell me the truth?

Dav. I? Nothing more easy.

Sim. Is this marriage at all disagreeable to him, on account of his intimacy with this foreign woman?

Dav. No, faith; or if at all, it is a two or three days’ annoyance this—you understand. It will then cease. Moreover, he himself has thought over this matter in a proper way.

Sim. I commend him.

Dav. While it was allowed him, and while his years prompted him, he intrigued; even then it was secretly. He took precaution that that circumstance should never be a cause of disgrace to him, as behooves a man of principle; now that he must have a wife, he has set his mind upon a wife.

Sim. He seemed to me to be somewhat melancholy in a slight degree.

Dav. Not at all on account of her, but there’s something he blames you for.

Sim. What is it, pray?

Dav. It’s a childish thing.

Sim. What is it?

Dav. Nothing at all.

Sim. Nay but, tell me what it is.

Dav. He says that you are making too sparing preparations.

Sim. What, I?

Dav. You.—He says that there has hardly been fare provided to the amount of ten drachmæ.59—“Does he seem to be bestowing a wife on his son? Which one now, in preference, of my companions shall I invite to the dinner?” And, it must be owned, you really are providing too parsimoniously—I do not commend you.

Sim. Hold your tongue.

Dav. (aside.) I’ve touched him up.

Sim. I’ll see that these things are properly done. (Davus goes into the house.) What’s the meaning of this? What does this old rogue mean? But if there’s any knavery here, why, he’s sure to be the source of the mischief.

Goes into his house.

Scene I.

Enter Simo and Davus from the house of the former. Mysis and Lesbia are coming toward the house of Glycerium.

Mys. (not seeing Simo and Davus.) Upon my faith, the fact is really as you mentioned, Lesbia, you can hardly find a man constant to a woman.

Sim. (apart to Davus.) This maid-servant comes from the Andrian.

Dav. (apart to Simo.) What do you say?

Sim. (apart to Davus.) It is so.

Mys. But this Pamphilas——

Sim. (apart to Davus.) What is she saying?

Mys. Has proved his constancy.

Sim. (apart.) Hah!

Dav. (apart to himself.) I wish that either he were deaf, or she struck dumb.

Mys. For the child she brings forth, he has ordered to be brought up.

Sim. (apart.) O Jupiter! What do I hear! It’s all over, if indeed this woman speaks the truth.

Les. You mention a good disposition on the part of the young man.

Mys. A most excellent one. But follow me in-doors, that you mayn’t keep her waiting.

Les. I’ll follow.

Mysis and Lesbia go into Glycerium’s house.

Scene II.

Simo and Davus.

Dav. (aside.) What remedy now shall I find for this mishap?

Sim. (to himself aloud.) What does this mean? Is he so infatuated? The child of a foreign woman? Now I understand; ah! scarcely even at last, in my stupidity, have I found it out.

Dav. (aside to himself.) What does he say he has found out?

Sim. (aside.) This piece of knavery is being now for the first time palmed upon me by this fellow; they are pretending that she’s in labor, in order that they may alarm Chremes.

Gly. (exclaiming from within her house.) Juno Lucina,60 grant me thine aid, save me, I do entreat thee!

Sim. Whew! so sudden? What nonsense! As soon as she has heard that I’m standing before the door, she makes all haste. These incidents, Davus, have not been quite happily adapted by you as to the points of time.

Dav. By me?

Sim. Are your scholars forgetful?61

Dav. I don’t know what you are talking about.

Sim. (aside.) If he at the real marriage of my son had taken me off my guard, what sport he would have made of me. Now it is at his own risk; I’m sailing in harbor.

Scene III.

Re-enter Lesbia from the house of Glycerium.

Les. (speaking to Archylis at the door, and not seeing Simo and Davus.) As yet, Archylis, all the customary symptoms which ought to exist toward recovery, I perceive in her. Now, in the first place, take care and let her bathe;62 then, after that, what I ordered to be given her to drink, and as much as I prescribed, do you administer: presently I will return hither. (To herself aloud.) By all that’s holy, a fine boy has been born to Pamphilus. I pray the Gods that he may survive, since the father himself is of a good disposition, and since he has hesitated to do an injustice to this most excellent young woman.

Exit.

Scene IV.

Simo and Davus.

Sim. Even this, who is there that knows you that would not believe that it originated in you?

Dav. Why, what is this?

Sim. She didn’t order in their presence what was requisite to be done for the woman lying in; but after she has come out, she bawls from the street to those who are in the house. O Davus, am I thus trifled with by you? Or pray, do I seem to you so very well suited to be thus openly imposed upon by your tricks? At all events it should have been with precaution; that at least I might have seemed to be feared if I should detect it.

Dav. (aside.) Assuredly, upon my faith, it’s he that’s now deceiving himself, not I.

Sim. I gave you warning, I forbade you with threats to do it. Have you been awed? What has it availed? Am I to believe you now in this, that this woman has had a child by Pamphilus?

Dav. (aside.) I understand where he’s mistaken; and I see what I must do.

Sim. Why are you silent?

Dav. What would you believe? As though word had not been brought you that thus it would happen.

Sim. Any word brought to me?

Dav. Come now, did you of your own accord perceive that this was counterfeited?

Sim. I am being trifled with.

Dav. Word has been brought you; for otherwise how could this suspicion have occurred to you?

Sim. How? Because I knew you.

Dav. As though you meant to say that this has been done by my contrivance.

Sim. Why, I’m sure of it, to a certainty.

Dav. Not yet even do you know me sufficiently, Simo, what sort of person I am.

Sim. I, not know you!

Dav. But if I begin to tell you any thing, at once you think that deceit is being practiced upon you in guile; therefore, upon my faith, I don’t dare now even to whisper.

Sim. This one thing I am sure of, that no person has been delivered here. (Pointing to Glycerium’s house.)

Dav. You have discovered that? Still, not a bit the less will they presently be laying the child63 here before the door. Of this, then, I now warn you, master, that it will happen, that you may be aware of it. Don’t you hereafter be saying that this was done through the advice or artifices of Davus. I wish this suspicion of yours to be entirely removed from myself.

Sim. How do you know that?

Dav. I’ve heard so, and I believe it: many things combine for me to form this conjecture. In the first place then, she declared that she was pregnant by Pamphilus; that has been proved to be false.64 Now, when she sees that preparations are being made for the wedding at our house, the maid-servant is directly sent to fetch the midwife to her, and to bring a child at the same time.65 Unless it is managed for you to see the child, the marriage will not be at all impeded.

Sim. What do you say to this? When you perceived that they were adopting this plan, why didn’t you tell Pamphilus immediately?

Dav. Why, who has induced him to leave her, but myself? For, indeed, we all know how desperately he loved her. Now he wishes for a wife. In fine, do you intrust me with that affair; proceed however, as before, to celebrate these nuptials, just as you are doing, and I trust that the Gods will prosper this matter.

Sim. Very well; be off in-doors; wait for me there, and get ready what’s necessary to be prepared. (Davus goes into the house.) He hasn’t prevailed upon me even now altogether to believe these things, and I don’t know whether what he has said is all true; but I deem it of little moment; this is of far greater importance to me—that my son himself has promised me. Now I’ll go and find Chremes; I’ll ask him for a wife for my son; if I obtain my request, at what other time rather than to-day should I prefer these nuptials taking place? For as my son has promised, I have no doubt but that if he should prove unwilling, I can fairly compel him. And look! here’s Chremes himself, just at the very time.

Scene V.

Enter Chremes.

Sim. I greet you, Chremes.

Chrem. O, you are the very person I was looking for.

Sim. And I for you.

Chrem. You meet me at a welcome moment. Some persons have been to me, to say that they had heard from you, that my daughter was to be married to your son to-day; I’ve come to see whether they are out of their senses or you.

Sim. Listen; in a few words you shall learn both what I want of you, and what you seek to know.

Chrem. I am listening; say what you wish.

Sim. By the Gods, I do entreat you, Chremes, and by our friendship, which, commencing with our infancy, has grown up with our years, and by your only daughter and by my own son (of preserving whom the entire power lies with you), that you will assist me in this matter; and that, just as this marriage was about to be celebrated, it may be celebrated.

Chrem. O, don’t importune me; as though you needed to obtain this of me by entreaty. Do you suppose I am different now from what I was formerly, when I promised her? If it is for the advantage of them both that it should take place, order her to be sent for. But if from this course there would result more harm than advantage for each, this I do beg of you, that you will consult for their common good, as though she were your own daughter, and I the father of Pamphilus.

Sim. Nay, so I intend, and so I wish it to be, Chremes; and I would not ask it of you, did not the occasion itself require it.

Chrem. What is the matter?

Sim. There is a quarrel between Glycerium and my son.

Chrem. (ironically) I hear you.

Sim. So much so, that I’m in hopes they may be separated.

Chrem. Nonsense!

Sim. It really is so.

Chrem. After this fashion, i’faith, I tell you, “the quarrels of lovers are the renewal of love.”

Sim. Well—this I beg of you, that we may prevent it. While an opportunity offers, and while his passion is cooled by affronts, before the wiles of these women and their tears, craftily feigned, bring back his love-sick mind to compassion, let us give him a wife. I trust, Chremes, that, when attached by intimacy and a respectable marriage, he will easily extricate himself from these evils.

Chrem. So it appears to you; but I do not think66 that either he can possibly hold to her with constancy, or that I can put up with it if he does not.

Sim. How then can you be sure of that, unless you make the experiment?

Chrem. But for that experiment to be made upon a daughter is a serious thing——

Sim. Why look, all the inconvenience in fine amounts to this—possibly, which may the Gods forfend, a separation may take place. But if he is reformed, see how many are the advantages: in the first place, you will have restored a son to your friend; you will obtain a sure son-in-law67 for yourself, and a husband for your daughter.

Chrem. What is one to say to all this? If you feel persuaded that this is beneficial, I don’t wish that any advantage should be denied you.

Sim. With good reason, Chremes, have I always considered you a most valuable friend.

Chrem. But how say you——?

Sim. What?

Chrem. How do you know that they are now at variance?

Sim. Davus himself, who is privy to all their plans, has told me so; and he advises me to expedite the match as fast as I can. Do you think he would do so, unless he was aware that my son desired it? You yourself as well shall presently hear what he says. (Goes to the door of his house and calls.) Halloo there! Call Davus out here. Look, here he is; I see him just coming out.

Scene VI.

Enter Davus from the house.

Dav. I was coming to you.

Sim. Why, what’s the matter?

Dav. Why isn’t the bride sent for?68 It’s now growing late in the day.

Sim. Do you hear me? I’ve been for some time not a little apprehensive of you, Davus, lest you should do that which the common class of servants is in the habit of doing, namely, impose upon me by your artifices; because my son is engaged in an amour.

Dav. What, I do that?

Sim. I fancied so; and therefore, fearing that, I concealed from you what I shall now mention.

Dav. What?

Sim. You shall know; for now I almost feel confidence in you.

Dav. Have you found out at last what sort of a person I am?

Sim. The marriage was not to have taken place.

Dav. How? Not to have taken place?

Sim. But I was making pretense, that I might test you all.

Dav. (affecting surprise.) What is it you tell me?

Sim. Such is the fact.

Dav. Only see! I was not able to discover that. Dear me! what a cunning contrivance!

Sim. Listen to this. Just as I ordered you to go from here into the house, he (pointing to Chremes) most opportunely met me.

Dav. (aside.) Ha! Are we undone, then?

Sim. I told him what you just now told me.

Dav. (aside.) Why, what am I to hear?

Sim. I begged him to give his daughter, and with difficulty I prevailed upon him.

Dav. (aside.) Utterly ruined!

Sim. (overhearing him speaking.) Eh—What was it you said?

Dav. Extremely well done, I say.

Sim. There’s no delay on his part now.

Chrem. I’ll go home at once; I’ll tell her to make due preparation, and bring back word here.

Exit.

Sim. Now I do entreat you, Davus, since you by yourself have brought about this marriage for me——

Dav. I myself, indeed!69

Sim. Do your best still to reform my son.

Dav. Troth, I’ll do it with all due care.

Sim. Do it now, while his mind is agitated.

Dav. You may be at ease.

Sim. Come then; where is he just now?

Dav. A wonder if he isn’t at home.

Sim. I’ll go to him; and what I’ve been telling you, I’ll tell him as well.

Goes into his house.

Scene VII.

Davus alone.

Dav. (to himself.) I’m a lost man! What reason is there why I shouldn’t take my departure straightway hence for the mill? There’s no room left for supplicating; I’ve upset every thing now; I’ve deceived my master; I’ve plunged my master’s son into a marriage; I’ve been the cause of its taking place this very day, without his hoping for it, and against the wish of Pamphilus. Here’s cleverness for you! But, if I had kept myself quiet, no mischief would have happened. (Starting.) But see, I espy him; I’m utterly undone! Would that there were some spot here for me, from which I might this instant pitch myself headlong!

Stands apart.

Scene VIII.

Enter Pamphilus in haste from Simo’s house.

Pam. Where is he? The villain, who this day—I’m ruined; and I confess that this has justly befallen me, for being such a dolt, so devoid of sense; that I should have intrusted my fortunes to a frivolous slave!70 I am suffering the reward of my folly; still he shall never get off from me unpunished for this.

Dav. (apart.) I’m quite sure that I shall be safe in future, if for the present I get clear of this mishap.

Pam. But what now am I to say to my father? Am I to deny that I am ready, who have just promised to marry? With what effrontery could I presume to do that? I know not what to do with myself.

Dav. (apart.) Nor I with myself, and yet I’m giving all due attention to it. I’ll tell him that I will devise something, in order that I may procure some respite in this dilemma.

Pam. (Catching sight of him.) Oho!

Dav. (apart.) I’m seen.

Pam. (sneeringly.) How now, good sir, what are you about? Do you see how dreadfully I am hampered by your devices?

Dav. Still, I’ll soon extricate you.

Pam. You, extricate me?

Dav. Assuredly, Pamphilus.

Pam. As you have just done, I suppose.

Dav. Why no, better, I trust.

Pam. What, am I to believe you, you scoundrel?71 You, indeed, make good a matter that’s all embarrassment and ruin! Just see, in whom I’ve been placing reliance—you who this day from a most happy state have been and plunged me into a marriage. Didn’t I say that this would be the case?

Dav. You did say so.

Pam. What do you deserve?72

Dav. The cross.73 But allow me a little time to recover myself; I’ll soon hit upon something.

Pam. Ah me! not to have the leisure to inflict punishment upon you as I desire! for the present conjuncture warns me to take precautions for myself, not to be taking vengeance on you.

Exeunt.

Scene I.

Enter Charinus, wringing his hands.

Char. (to himself.) Is this to be believed or spoken of; that malice so great could be inborn in any one as to exult at misfortunes, and to derive advantage from the distresses of another! Oh, is this true? Assuredly, that is the most dangerous class of men, in whom there is only a slight degree of hesitation at refusing; afterward, when the time arrives for fulfilling their promises, then, obliged, of necessity they discover themselves. They are afraid, and yet the circumstances74 compel them to refuse. Then, in that case, their very insolent remark is, “Who are you? What are you to me? What should I give up to you what’s my own? Look you, I am the most concerned in my own interests.”75 But if you inquire where is honor, they are not ashamed.76 Here, where there is occasion, they are not afraid; there, where there is no occasion, they are afraid. But what am I to do? Ought I not to go to him, and reason with him upon this outrage, and heap many an invective upon him? Yet some one may say, “you will avail nothing.” Nothing? At least I shall have vexed him, and have given vent to my own feelings.

Scene II.

Enter Pamphilus and Davus.

Pam. Charinus, unintentionally I have ruined both myself and you, unless the Gods in some way befriend us.

Char. Unintentionally, is it! An excuse has been discovered at last. You have broken your word.

Pam. How so, pray?

Char. Do you expect to deceive me a second time by these speeches?

Pam. What does this mean?

Char. Since I told you that I loved her, she has become quite pleasing to you. Ah wretched me! to have judged of your disposition from my own.

Pam. You are mistaken.

Char. Did this pleasure appear to you not to be quite complete, unless you tantalized me in my passion, and lured me on by groundless hopes?—You may take her.

Pam. I, take her? Alas! you know not in what perplexities, to my sorrow, I am involved, and what vast anxieties this executioner of mine (pointing to Davus) has contrived for me by his devices.

Char. What is it so wonderful, if he takes example from yourself?

Pam. You would not say that if you understood either myself or my affection.

Char. I’m quite aware (ironically); you have just now had a dispute with your father, and he is now angry with you in consequence, and has not been able to-day to prevail upon you to marry her.

Pam. No, not at all,—as you are not acquainted with my sorrows, these nuptials were not in preparation for me; and no one was thinking at present of giving me a wife.

Char. I am aware; you have been influenced by your own inclination.

Pam. Hold; you do not yet know all.

Char. For my part, I certainly do know that you are about to marry her.

Pam. Why are you torturing me to death? Listen to this. He (pointing to Davus) never ceased to urge me to tell my father that I would marry her; to advise and persuade me, even until he compelled me.

Char. Who was this person?

Pam. Davus.

Char. Davus! For what reason?

Pam. I don’t know; except that I must have been under the displeasure of the Gods, for me to have listened to him.

Char. Is this the fact, Davus?

Dav. It is the fact.

Char. (starting.) Ha! What do you say, you villain? Then may the Gods send you an end worthy of your deeds. Come now, tell me, if all his enemies had wished him to be plunged into a marriage, what advice but this could they have given?

Dav. I have been deceived, but I don’t despair.

Char. (ironically.) I’m sure of that.

Dav. This way it has not succeeded; we’ll try another. Unless, perhaps, you think that because it failed at first, this misfortune can not now possibly be changed for better luck.

Pam. Certainly not; for I quite believe that if you set about it, you will be making two marriages for me out of one.

Dav. I owe you this, Pamphilus, in respect of my servitude, to strive with hands and feet, night and day; to submit to hazard of my life, to serve you. It is your part, if any thing has fallen out contrary to expectation, to forgive me. What I was contriving has not succeeded; still, I am using all endeavors; or, do you yourself devise something better, and dismiss me.

Pam. I wish to; restore me to the position in which you found me.

Dav. I’ll do so.

Pam. But it must be done directly.

Dav. But the door of Glycerium’s house here makes a noise.77

Pam. That’s nothing to you.

Dav. (assuming an attitude of meditation.) I’m in search of—

Pam. (ironically.) Dear me, what, now at last?

Dav. Presently I’ll give you what I’ve hit upon.

Scene III.

Enter Mysis from the house of Glycerium.

Mys. (calling at the door to Glycerium within.) Now, wherever he is, I’ll take care that your own Pamphilus shall be found for you, and brought to you by me; do you only, my life, cease to vex yourself.

Pam. Mysis.

Mys. (turning round.) Who is it? Why, Pamphilus, you do present yourself opportunely to me. My mistress charged me to beg of you, if you love her, to come to her directly; she says she wishes to see you.

Pam. (aside.) Alas! I am undone; this dilemma grows apace! (To Davus.) For me and her, unfortunate persons, now to be tortured this way through your means; for I am sent for, because she has discovered that my marriage is in preparation.

Char. From which, indeed, how easily a respite could have been obtained, if he (pointing to Davus) had kept himself quiet.

Dav. (ironically to Charinus.) Do proceed; if he isn’t sufficiently angry of his own accord, do you irritate him.

Mys. (to Pamphilus.) Aye faith, that is the case; and for that reason, poor thing, she is now in distress.

Pam. Mysis, I swear by all the Gods that I will never forsake her; not if I were to know that all men would be my enemies in consequence. Her have I chosen for mine; she has fallen to my lot; our feelings are congenial; farewell they, who wish for a separation between us; nothing but Death separates her from me.

Mys. I begin to revive.

Pam. Not the responses of Apollo are more true than this. If it can possibly be contrived that my father may not believe that this marriage has been broken off through me, I could wish it. But if that can not be, I will do that which is easily effected, for him to believe that through me it has been caused. What do you think of me?

Char. That you are as unhappy as myself.

Dav. (placing his finger on his forehead.) I’m contriving an expedient.

Char. You are a clever hand; if you do set about any thing.

Dav. Assuredly, I’ll manage this for you.

Pam. There’s need of it now.

Dav. But I’ve got it now.

Char. What is it?

Dav. For him (pointing to Pamphilus) I’ve got it, not for you, don’t mistake.

Char. I’m quite satisfied.

Pam. What will you do? Tell me.

Dav. I’m afraid that this day won’t be long enough for me to execute it, so don’t suppose that I’ve now got leisure for relating it; do you betake yourself off at once, for you are a hinderance to me.

Pam. I’ll go and see her.

Goes into the house of Glycerium.

Dav. (to Charinus.) What are you going to do? Whither are you going from here?

Char. Do you wish me to tell you the truth?

Dav. No, not at all; (aside) he’s making the beginning of a long story for me.

Char. What will become of me?

Dav. Come now, you unreasonable person, are you not satisfied that I give you a little respite, by putting off his marriage?

Char. But yet, Davus—

Dav. What then?

Char. That I may marry her—

Dav. Absurd.

Char. Be sure to come hither (pointing in the direction of his house) to my house, if you can effect any thing.

Dav. Why should I come? I can do nothing for you.

Char. But still, if any thing—

Dav. Well, well, I’ll come.

Char. If you can; I shall be at home.

Exit.

Scene IV.

Mysis and Davus.

Dav. Do you, Mysis, remain here a little while, until I come out.

Mys. For what reason?

Dav. There’s a necessity for so doing.

Mys. Make haste.

Dav. I’ll be here this moment, I tell you.

He goes into the house of Glycerium.

Scene V.

Mysis alone.

Mys. (to herself.) That nothing can be secure to any one! Ye Gods, by our trust in you! I used to make sure that this Pamphilus was a supreme blessing for my mistress; a friend, a protector, a husband secured under every circumstance; yet what anguish is she, poor thing, now suffering through him? Clearly there’s more trouble for her now than there was happiness formerly. But Davus is coming out.

Scene VI.

Enter Davus from the house of Glycerium with the child.

Mys. My good sir, prithee, what is that? Whither are you carrying the child?

Dav. Mysis, I now stand in need of your cunning being brought into play in this matter, and of your address.

Mys. Why, what are you going to do?

Dav. (holding out the child.) Take it from me directly, and lay it down before our door.

Mys. Prithee, on the ground?

Dav. (pointing.) Take some sacred herbs78 from the altar here,79 and strew them under it.

Mys. Why don’t you do it yourself?

Dav. That if perchance I should have to swear to my master that I did not place it there, I may be enabled to do so with a clear conscience.

Mys. I understand; have these new scruples only just now occurred to you, pray?

Dav. Bestir yourself quickly, that you may learn what I’m going to do next. (Mysis lays the child at Simo’s door.) Oh Jupiter!

Mys. (starting up.) What’s the matter?

Dav. The father of the intended bride is coming in the middle of it all. The plan which I had first purposed I now give up.80

Mys. I don’t understand what you are talking about.

Dav. I’ll pretend too that I’ve come in this direction from the right. Do you take care to help out the conversation by your words, whenever there’s necessity.81

Mys. I don’t at all comprehend what you are about; but if there’s any thing in which you have need of my assistance, as you understand the best, I’ll stay, that I mayn’t in any way impede your success.

Davus retires out of sight.

Scene VII.

Enter Chremes on the other side of the stage, going toward the house of Simo.

Chrem. (to himself.) After having provided the things necessary for my daughter’s nuptials, I’m returning, that I may request her to be sent for. (Seeing the child.) But what’s this? I’faith, it’s a child. (Addressing Mysis.) Woman, have you laid that here (pointing to the child)?

Mys. (aside, looking out for Davus.) Where is he?

Chrem. Don’t you answer me?

Mys. (looking about, to herself.) He isn’t any where to be seen. Woe to wretched me! the fellow has left me and is off.

Dav. (coming forward and pretending not to see them.) Ye Gods, by our trust in you! what a crowd there is in the Forum! What a lot of people are squabbling there! (Aloud.) Then provisions are so dear. (Aside.) What to say besides, I don’t know.

Chremes passes by Mysis, and goes to a distance at the back of the stage.

Mys. Pray, why did you leave me here alone?

Dav. (pretending to start on seeing the child.) Ha! what story is this? How now, Mysis, whence comes this child? Who has brought it here?

Mys. Are you quite right in your senses, to be asking me that?

Dav. Whom, then, ought I to ask, as I don’t see any one else here?

Chrem. (apart to himself.) I wonder whence it has come.

Dav. Are you going to tell me what I ask?

Mys. Pshaw!

Dav. (in a whisper.) Step aside to the right.

They retire on one side.

Mys. You are out of your senses; didn’t you your own self?

Dav. (in a low voice.) Take you care not to utter a single word beyond what I ask you. Why don’t you say aloud whence it comes?

Mys. (in a loud voice.) From our house.

Dav. (affecting indignation.) Heyday, indeed! it really is a wonder if a woman, who is a courtesan, acts impudently.

Chrem. (apart.) So far as I can learn, this woman belongs to the Andrian.

Dav. Do we seem to you such very suitable persons for you to be playing tricks with us in this way?

Chrem. (apart.) I came just in time.

Dav. Make haste then, and take the child away from the door here: (in a low voice) stay there; take care you don’t stir from that spot.

Mys. (aside.) May the Gods confound you! you do so terrify poor me.

Dav. (in a loud voice.) Is it to you I speak or not?

Mys. What is it you want?

Dav. (aloud.) What—do you ask me again? Tell me, whose child have you been laying here? Let me know.

Mys. Don’t you know?

Dav. (in a low voice.) Have done with what I know; tell me what I ask.

Mys. (aloud.) It belongs to your people.

Dav. (aloud.) Which of our people?

Mys. (aloud.) To Pamphilus.

Dav. (affecting surprise in a loud tone.) How? What—to Pamphilus?

Mys. (aloud.) How now—is it not so?

Chrem. (apart.) With good reason have I always been averse to this match, it’s clear.

Dav. (calling aloud.) O abominable piece of effrontery!

Mys. Why are you bawling out so?

Dav. (aloud.) What, the very one I saw being carried to your house yesterday evening?

Mys. O you impudent fellow!

Dav. (aloud.) It’s the truth. I saw Canthara stuffed out beneath her clothes.82

Mys. I’faith, I thank the Gods that several free women were present83 at the delivery.

Dav. (aloud.) Assuredly she doesn’t know him, on whose account she resorts to these schemes. Chremes, she fancies, if he sees the child laid before the door, will not give his daughter; i’faith, he’ll give her all the sooner,.

Chrem. (apart.) I’faith, he’ll not do so.

Dav. (aloud.) Now therefore, that you may be quite aware, if you don’t take up the child, I’ll roll it forthwith into the middle of the road; and yourself in the same place I’ll roll over into the mud.

Mys. Upon my word, man, you are not sober.

Dav. (aloud.) One scheme brings on another. I now hear it whispered about that she is a citizen of Attica—

Chrem. (apart.) Ha!

Dav. (aloud.) And that, constrained by the laws,84 he will have to take her as his wife.

Mys. Well now, pray, is she not a citizen?

Chrem. (apart.) I had almost fallen unawares into a comical misfortune.

Comes forward.

Dav. Who’s that, speaking? (Pretending to look about.) O Chremes, you have come in good time. Do listen to this.

Chrem. I have heard it all already.

Dav. Prithee, did you hear it? Here’s villainy for you! she (pointing at Mysis) ought to be carried off85 hence to the torture forthwith. (To Mysis, pointing at Chremes.) This is Chremes himself; don’t suppose that you are trifling with Davus only.

Mys. Wretched me! upon my faith I have told no untruth, my worthy old gentleman.

Chrem. I know the whole affair. Is Simo within?

Dav. He is.

Chremes goes into Simo’s house.

Scene VIII.

Davus and Mysis.

Mys. (Davus attempting to caress her.) Don’t touch me, villain. (Moving away.) On my word, if I don’t tell Glycerium all this....

Dav. How now, simpleton, don’t you know what has been done?

Mys. How should I know?

Dav. This is the bride’s father. It couldn’t any other way have been managed that he should know the things that we wanted him to know.

Mys. You should have told me that before.

Dav. Do you suppose that it makes little difference whether you do things according to impulse, as nature prompts, or from premeditation?

Scene IX.

Enter Crito, looking about him.

Crito (to himself.) It was said that Chrysis used to live in this street, who preferred to gain wealth here dishonorably to living honestly as a poor woman in her own country: by her death that property has descended to me by law.86 But I see some persons of whom to make inquiry. (Accosting them.) Good-morrow to you.

Mys. Prithee, whom do I see? Isn’t this Crito, the kinsman of Chrysis? It is he.

Cri. O Mysis, greetings to you.

Mys. Welcome to you, Crito.

Cri. Is Chrysis then——?87 Alas!

Mys. Too truly. She has indeed left us poor creatures quite heart-broken.

Cri. How fare you here, and in what fashion? Pretty well?

Mys. What, we? Just as we can, as they say; since we can’t as we would.

Cri. How is Glycerium? Has she discovered her parents yet?

Mys. I wish she had.

Cri. What, not yet? With no favorable omen did I set out for this place; for, upon my faith, if I had known that, I never would have moved a foot hither. She was always said to be, and was looked upon as her sister; what things were hers she is in possession of; now for me to begin a suit at law here, the precedents of others warn me, a stranger,88 how easy and profitable a task it would be for me. At the same time, I suppose that by this she has got some friend and protector; for she was pretty nearly a grown-up girl when she left there. They would cry out that I am a sharper; that, a pauper, I’m hunting after an inheritance; besides, I shouldn’t like to strip the girl herself.

Mys. O most worthy stranger! I’faith, Crito, you still adhere to your good old-fashioned ways.

Cri. Lead me to her, since I have come hither, that I may see her.

Mys. By all means.

They go into the house of Glycerium.

Dav. (to himself.) I’ll follow them; I don’t wish the old man to see me at this moment.

He follows Mysis and Crito.

Scene I.

Enter Chremes and Simo from the house of Simo.

Chrem. Enough already, enough, Simo, has my friendship toward you been proved. Sufficient hazard have I begun to encounter; make an end of your entreaties, then. While I’ve been endeavoring to oblige you, I’ve almost fooled away my daughter’s prospects in life.

Sim. Nay but, now in especial, Chremes, I do beg and entreat of you, that the favor, commenced a short time since in words, you’ll now complete by deeds.

Chrem. See how unreasonable you are from your very earnestness; so long as you effect what you desire, you neither think of limits to compliance, nor what it is you request of me; for if you did think, you would now forbear to trouble me with unreasonable requests.

Sim. What unreasonable requests?

Chrem. Do you ask? You importuned me to promise my daughter to a young man engaged in another attachment, averse to the marriage state, to plunge her into discord and a marriage of uncertain duration; that through her sorrow and her anguish I might reclaim your son. You prevailed; while the case admitted of it I made preparations. Now it does not admit of it; you must put up with it; they say that she is a citizen of this place; a child has been born; do cease to trouble us.

Sim. By the Gods, I do conjure you not to bring your mind to believe those whose especial interest it is that he should be as degraded as possible. On account of the marriage, have all these things been feigned and contrived. When the reason for which they do these things is removed from them, they will desist.

Chrem. You are mistaken: I myself saw the servant-maid wrangling with Davus.

Sim. (sneeringly.) I am aware.

Chrem. With an appearance of earnestness, when neither at the moment perceived that I was present there.

Sim. I believe it; and Davus a short time since forewarned me that this would be the case; and I don’t know how I forgot to tell it you to-day, as I had intended.

Scene II.

Enter Davus from the house of Glycerium.

Dav. (aloud at the door, not seeing Simo and Chremes.) Now then, I bid you set your minds at ease.

Chrem. (to Simo.) See you, there’s Davus.

Sim. From what house is he coming out?

Dav. (to himself.) Through my means, and that of the stranger——

Sim. (overhearing.) What mischief is this?

Dav. (to himself.) I never did see a more opportune person, encounter, or occasion.

Sim. The rascal! I wonder who it is he’s praising?

Dav. All the affair is now in a safe position.

Sim. Why do I delay to accost him?

Dav. (to himself, catching sight of Simo.) It’s my master; What am I to do?

Sim. (accosting him.) O, save you, good sir!

Dav. (affecting surprise.) Hah! Simo! O, Chremes, my dear sir, all things are now quite ready in-doors.

Sim. (ironically.) You have taken such very good care.

Dav. Send for the bride when you like.

Sim. Very good: (ironically) of course, that’s the only thing that’s now wanting here. But do you answer me this, what business had you there? (Pointing to the house of Glycerium.)

Dav. What, I?

Sim. Just so.

Dav. I?

Sim. Yes, you.

Dav. I went in just now.

Sim. As if I asked how long ago!

Dav. Together with your son.

Sim. What, is Phamphilus in there? (Aside.) To my confusion, I’m on the rack (To Davus.) How now? Didn’t you say that there was enmity between them, you scoundrel?

Dav. There is.

Sim. Why is he there, then?

Chrem. Why do you suppose he is? (Ironically.) Quarreling with her, of course.

Dav. Nay but, Chremes, I’ll let you now hear from me a disgraceful piece of business. An old man, I don’t know who he is, has just now come here; look you, he is a confident and shrewd person; when you look at his appearance, he seems to be a person of some consequence. There is a grave sternness in his features, and something commanding in his words.

Sim. What news are you bringing, I wonder?

Dav. Why nothing but what I heard him mention.

Sim. What does he say then?

Dav. That he knows Glycerium to be a citizen of Attica.

Sim. (going to his door.) Ho there! Dromo, Dromo!

Scene III.

Enter Dromo hastily from the house.

Dro. What is it?

Sim. Dromo!

Dav. Hear me.

Sim. If you add a word—Dromo!

Dav. Hear me, pray.

Dro. (to Simo.) What do you want?

Sim. (pointing to Davus.) Carry him off on your shoulders in-doors as fast as possible.

Dro. Whom?

Sim. Davus.

Dav. For what reason?

Sim. Because I choose. (To Dromo.) Carry him off, I say.

Dav. What have I done?

Sim. Carry him off.

Dav. If you find that I have told a lie in any one matter, then kill me.

Sim. I’ll hear nothing. I’ll soon have you set in motion.89

Dav. What? Although this is the truth.

Sim. In spite of it. (To Dromo.) Take care he’s kept well secured; and, do you hear? Tie him up hands and feet together.90 Now then, be off; upon my faith this very day, if I live, I’ll teach you what hazard there is in deceiving a master, and him in deceiving a father.

Dromo leads Davus into the house.

Chrem. Oh, don’t be so extremely vexed.

Sim. O Chremes, the dutifulness of a son! Do you not pity me? That I should endure so much trouble for such a son! (Goes to the door of Glycerium’s house.) Come, Pamphilus, come out, Pamphilus! have you any shame left?

Scene IV.

Enter Pamphilus in haste from Glycerium’s house.

Pam. Who is it that wants me? (Aside.) I’m undone! it’s my father.

Sim. What say you, of all men, the—?

Chrem. Oh! rather speak about the matter itself, and forbear to use harsh language.

Sim. As if any thing too severe could now be possibly said against him. Pray, do you say that Glycerium is a citizen—

Pam. So they say.

Sim. So they say! Unparalleled assurance! does he consider what he says? Is he sorry for what he has done? Does his countenance, pray, at all betray any marks of shame? That he should be of mind so weak, as, without regard to the custom and the law91 of his fellow-citizens, and the wish of his own father, to be anxious, in spite of every thing, to have her, to his own utter disgrace!

Pam. Miserable that I am!

Sim. Ha! have you at last found that out only just now, Pamphilus? Long since did that expression, long since, when you made up your mind, that what you desired must be effected by you at any price; from that very day did that expression aptly befit you. But yet why do I torment myself? Why vex myself? Why worry my old age with this madness? Am I to suffer the punishment for his offenses? Nay then, let him have her, good-by to him, let him pass his life with her.

Pam. My father——

Sim. How, “my father?” As if you stood in any need of this father. Home, wife, and children, provided by you against the will of your father! People suborned, too, to say that she is a citizen of this place! You have gained your point.

Pam. Father, may I say a few words?

Sim. What can you say to me?

Chrem. But, Simo, do hear him.

Sim. I, hear him? Why should I hear him, Chremes?

Chrem. Still, however, do allow him to speak.

Sim. Well then, let him speak: I allow him.

Pam. I own that I love her; if that is committing a fault, I own that also. To you, father, do I subject myself. Impose on me any injunction you please; command me. Do you wish me to take a wife? Do you wish me to give her up? As well as I can, I will endure it. This only I request of you, not to think that this old gentleman has been suborned by me. Allow me to clear myself, and to bring him here before you.

Sim. To bring him here?

Pam. Do allow me, father.

Chrem. He asks what’s reasonable; do give him leave.

Pam. Allow me to obtain thus much of you.

Sim. I allow it. I desire any thing, so long as I find, Chremes, that I have not been deceived by him.

Pamphilus goes into the house of Glycerium.

Chrem. For a great offense, a slight punishment ought to satisfy a father.

Scene V.

Re-enter Pamphilus with Crito.

Cri. (to Pamphilus, as he is coming out.) Forbear entreating. Of these, any one reason prompts me to do it, either your own sake, or the fact that it is the truth, or that I wish well for Glycerium herself.

Chrem. (starting.) Do I see Crito of Andros? Surely it is he.

Cri. Greetings to you, Chremes.

Chrem. How is it that, so contrary to your usage, you are at Athens?

Cri. So it has happened. But is this Simo?

Chrem. It is he.

Cri. Simo, were you asking for me?

Sim. How now, do you say that Glycerium is a citizen of this place?

Cri. Do you deny it?

Sim. (ironically.) Have you come here so well prepared?

Cri. For what purpose?

Sim. Do you ask? Are you to be acting this way with impunity? Are you to be luring young men into snares here, inexperienced in affairs, and liberally brought up, by tempting them, and to be playing upon their fancies by making promises?

Cri. Are you in your senses?

Sim. And are you to be patching up amours with Courtesans by marriage?

Pam. (aside.) I’m undone! I fear that the stranger will not put up with this.

Chrem. If, Simo, you knew this person well, you would not think thus; he is a worthy man.

Sim. He, a worthy man! To come so opportunely to-day just at the very nuptials, and yet never to have come before? (Ironically.) Of course, we must believe him, Chremes.

Pam. (aside.) If I didn’t dread my father, I have something, which, in this conjuncture, I could opportunely suggest to him.92

Sim. (sneeringly, to Chremes.) A sharper!93

Cri. (starting.) Hah!

Chrem. It is his way, Crito; do excuse it.

Cri. Let him take heed how he behaves. If he persists in saying to me what he likes, he’ll be hearing things that he don’t like. Am I meddling with these matters or interesting myself? Can you not endure your troubles with a patient mind? For as to what I say, whether it is true or false what I have heard, can soon be known. A certain man of Attica, a long time ago,94 his ship being wrecked, was cast ashore at Andros, and this woman together with him, who was then a little girl; he, in his destitution, by chance first made application to the father of Chrysis—

Sim. (ironically.) He’s beginning his tale.

Chrem. Let him alone.

Cri. Really, is he to be interrupting me in this way?

Chrem. Do you proceed.

Cri. He who received him was a relation of mine. There I heard from him that he was a native of Attica. He died there.

Chrem. His name?

Cri. The name, in such a hurry!

Pam. Phania.

Chrem. (starting.) Hah! I shall die!

Cri. I’faith, I really think it was Phania; this I know for certain, he said that he was a citizen of Rhamnus.95

Chrem. O Jupiter!

Cri. Many other persons in Andros have heard the same, Chremes.

Chrem. (aside.) I trust it may turn out as I hope. (To Crito.) Come now, tell me, what did he then say about her? Did he say she was his own daughter?

Cri. No.

Chrem. Whose then?

Cri. His brother’s daughter.

Chrem. She certainly is mine.

Cri. What do you say?

Sim. What is this that you say?

Pam. (aside.) Prick up your ears, Pamphilus.

Sim. Why do you suppose so?

Chrem. That Phania was my brother.

Sim. I knew him, and I am aware of it.

Chrem. He, flying from the wars, and following me to Asia, set out from here. At the same time he was afraid to leave her here behind; since then, this is the first time I have heard what became of him.

Pam. (aside.) I am scarcely myself, so much has my mind been agitated by fear, hope, joy, and surprise at this so great, so unexpected blessing.

Sim. Really, I am glad for many reasons that she has been discovered to be a citizen.

Pam. I believe it, father.

Chrem. But there yet remains one difficulty96 with me, which keeps me in suspense.

Pam. (aside.) You deserve to be——, with your scruples, you plague. You are seeking a knot in a bulrush.97

Cri. (to Chremes.) What is that?

Chrem. The names don’t agree.

Cri. Troth, she had another when little.

Chrem. What was it, Crito? Can you remember it?

Cri. I’m trying to recollect it.

Pam. (aside.) Am I to suffer his memory to stand in the way of my happiness, when I myself can provide my own remedy in this matter? I will not suffer it. (Aloud.) Hark you, Chremes, that which you are trying to recollect is “Pasibula.”

Chrem. The very same.

Cri. That’s it.

Pam. I’ve heard it from herself a thousand times.

Sim. I suppose, Chremes, that you believe that we all rejoice at this discovery.

Chrem. So may the Gods bless me, I do believe it.

Pam. What remains to be done, father?

Sim. The event itself has quite brought me to reconcilement.

Pam. O kind father! With regard to her as a wife, since I have taken possession of her, Chremes will not offer any opposition.

Chrem. The plea is a very good one, unless perchance your father says any thing to the contrary.

Pam. Of course, I agree.

Sim. Then be it so.98

Chrem. Her portion, Pamphilus, is ten talents.

Pam. I am satisfied.

Chrem. I’ll hasten to my daughter. Come now, (beckoning) along with me, Crito; for I suppose that she will not know me.

They go into Glycerium’s house.

Sim. (To Pamphilus.) Why don’t you order her to be sent for hither, to our house?

Pam. Well thought of; I’ll at once give charge of that to Davus.

Sim. He can’t do it.

Pam. How so?

Sim. Because he has another matter that more nearly concerns himself, and of more importance.

Pam. What, pray?

Sim. He is bound.

Pam. Father, he is not rightly bound.99

Sim. But I ordered to that effect.

Pam. Prithee, do order him to be set at liberty.

Sim. Well, be it so.

Pam. But immediately.

Sim. I’m going in.

Pam. O fortunate and happy day!

Simo goes into his house.

Scene VI.

Enter Charinus, at a distance.

Char. (apart to himself.) I’m come to see what Pamphilus is about; and look, here he is.

Pam. (to himself.) Some one perhaps might imagine that I don’t believe this to be true; but now it is clear to me that it really is true. I do think that the life of the Gods is everlasting, for this reason, because their joys are their own.100 For immortality has been obtained by me, if no sorrow interrupts this delight. But whom in particular could I wish to be now thrown in my way, for me to relate these things to?

Char. (apart to himself.) What means this rapture?

Pam. (to himself.) I see Davus. There is no one in the world whom I would choose in preference; for I am sure that he of all people will sincerely rejoice in my happiness.

Scene VII.

Enter Davus.

Dav. (to himself.) Where is Pamphilus, I wonder?

Pam. Here he is, Davus.

Dav. (turning round.) Who’s that?

Pam. ’Tis I, Pamphilus; you don’t know what has happened to me.

Dav. No really; but I know what has happened to myself.

Pam. And I too.

Dav. It has fallen out just like human affairs in general, that you should know the mishap I have met with, before I the good that has befallen you.

Pam. My Glycerium has discovered her parents.

Dav. O, well done!

Char. (apart, in surprise.) Hah!

Pam. Her father is an intimate friend of ours.

Dav. Who?

Pam. Chremes.

Dav. You do tell good news.

Pam. And there’s no hinderance to my marrying her at once.

Char. (apart.) Is he dreaming the same that he has been wishing for when awake?

Pam. Then about the child, Davus.

Dav. O, say no more; you are the only person whom the Gods favor.

Char. (apart.) I’m all right if these things are true. I’ll accost them.

Comes forward.

Pam. Who is this? Why, Charinus, you meet me at the very nick of time.

Char. That’s all right.

Pam. Have you heard—?

Char. Every thing; come, in your good fortune do have some regard for me. Chremes is now at your command; I’m sure that he’ll do every thing you wish.

Pam. I’ll remember you; and because it is tedious for us to wait for him until he comes out, follow me this way; he is now in-doors at the house of Glycerium; do you, Davus, go home; send with all haste to remove her thence. Why are you standing there? Why are you delaying?

Dav. I’m going. (Pamphilus and Charinus go into the house of Glycerium. Davus then comes forward and addresses the Audience.) Don’t you wait until they come out from there; she will be betrothed within: if there is any thing else that remains, it will be transacted in-doors. Grant us your applause.101

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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Laches,1 an aged Athenian.
Phædria,2 Chærea,3	his sons.
Antipho,4 a young man, friend of Chærea. Chremes,5 a young man, brother of Pamphila. Thraso,6 a boastful Captain. Gnatho,7 a Parasite. Parmeno,8 servant of Phædria. Sanga,9 cook to Thraso.
Donax,10 Simalio,11 Syriscus,12	servants of Thraso.
Dorus,15 a Eunuch slave. Thais,13 a Courtesan.
Pythias,14 Dorias,15	her attendants.
Sophrona,16 a nurse. Pamphila,17 a female slave.

Scene.—Athens; before the houses of Laches and Thais.

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A certain citizen of Athens had a daughter named Pamphila, and a son called Chremes. The former was stolen while an infant, and sold to a Rhodian merchant, who having made a present of her to a Courtesan of Rhodes, she brought her up with her own daughter Thais, who was somewhat older. In the course of years, Thais following her mother’s way of life, removes to Athens. Her mother dying, her property is put up for sale, and Pamphila is purchased as a slave by Thraso, an officer and an admirer of Thais, who happens just then to be visiting Rhodes. During the absence of Thraso, Thais becomes acquainted with Phædria, an Athenian youth, the son of Laches; she also discovers from Chremes, who lives near Athens, that Pamphila, her former companion, is his sister. Thraso returns, intending to present to her the girl he has bought, but determines not to do so until she has discarded Phædria. Finding that the girl is no other than Pamphila, Thais is at a loss what to do, as she both loves Phædria, and is extremely anxious to recover Pamphila. At length, to please the Captain, she excludes Phædria, but next day sends for him, and explains to him her reasons, at the same time begging of him to allow Thraso the sole right of admission to her house for the next two days, and assuring him that as soon as she shall have gained possession of the girl, she will entirely throw him off. Phædria consents, and resolves to spend these two days in the country; at the same time he orders Parmeno to take to Thais a Eunuch and an Æthiopian girl, whom he has purchased for her. The Captain also sends Pamphila, who is accidentally seen by Chærea, the younger brother of Phædria; he, being smitten with her beauty, prevails upon Parmeno to introduce him into the house of Thais, in the Eunuch’s dress. Being admitted there, in the absence of Thais, he ravishes the damsel. Shortly afterward Thraso quarrels with Thais, and comes with all his attendants to her house to demand the return of Pamphila, but is disappointed. In conclusion, Pamphila is recognized by her brother Chremes, and is promised in marriage to Chremes; while Thraso becomes reconciled to Phædria, through the mediation of Gnatho, his Parasite.

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Performed at the Megalensian Games; L. Posthumius Albinus and L. Cornelius Merula being Curule Ædiles. L. Ambivius Turpio and L. Atilius Præsnestinus performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius, composed the music to two treble flutes. From the Greek of Menander. It was acted twice,19 M. Valerius and C. Fannius being Consuls.20

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THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.

The Captain, Thraso, being ignorant of the same, has brought from abroad a girl who used wrongly to be called the sister of Thais, and presents her to Thais herself: she in reality is a citizen of Attica. To the same woman, Phædria, an admirer of Thais, orders a Eunuch whom he has purchased, to be taken, and he himself goes away into the country, having been entreated to give up two days to Thraso. A youth, the brother of Phædria, having fallen in love with the damsel sent to the house of Thais, is dressed up in the clothes of the Eunuch. Parmeno prompts him; he goes in; he ravishes the maiden; but at length her brother being discovered, a citizen of Attica, betroths her who has been ravished, to the youth, and Thraso prevails upon Phædria by his entreaties.

If there is any one who desires to please as many good men as possible, and to give offense to extremely few, among those does our Poet enroll his name. Next, if there is one who thinks21 that language too harsh, is here applied to him, let him bear this in mind—that it is an answer, not an attack; inasmuch as he has himself been the first aggressor; who, by translating plays verbally,22 and writing them in bad Latin, has made out of good Greek Plays Latin ones by no means good. Just as of late he has published the Phasma23 [the Apparition] of Menander; and in the Thesaurus [the Treasure] has described24 him from whom the gold is demanded, as pleading his cause why it should be deemed his own, before the person who demands it has stated how this treasure belongs to him, or how it came into the tomb of his father. Henceforward, let him not deceive himself, or fancy thus, “I have now done with it; there’s nothing that he can say to me.” I recommend him not to be mistaken, and to refrain from provoking me. I have many other points, as to which for the present he shall be pardoned, which, however, shall be brought forward hereafter, if he persists in attacking me, as he has begun to do. After the Ædiles had purchased the Eunuch of Menander, the Play which we are about to perform, he managed to get an opportunity of viewing it.25 When the magistrates were present it began to be performed. He exclaimed that a thief, no Poet, had produced the piece, but still had not deceived26 him; that, in fact, it was the Colax, an old Play of Plautus;27 and that from it were taken the characters of the Parasite and the Captain. If this is a fault, the fault is the ignorance of the Poet; not that he intended to be guilty of theft. That so it is, you will now be enabled to judge. The Colax is a Play of Menander’s; in it there is Colax, a Parasite, and a braggart Captain: he does not deny that he has transferred these characters into his Eunuch from the Greek; but assuredly he does deny this, that he was aware that those pieces had been already translated into Latin. But if it is not permitted us to use the same characters as others, how can it any more be allowed to represent hurrying servants,28 to describe virtuous matrons, artful courtesans, the gluttonous parasite, the braggart captain, the infant palmed off, the old man cajoled by the servant, about love, hatred, suspicion? In fine, nothing is said now that has not been said before. Wherefore it is but just that you should know this, and make allowance, if the moderns do what the ancients used to do. Grant me your attention, and give heed in silence, that you may understand what the Eunuch means.

Scene I.

Enter Phædria and Parmeno.

Phæd. What, then, shall I do?29 Ought I not to go, not now even, when I am sent for of her own accord? Or ought I rather so to behave myself as not to put up with affronts from Courtesans? She shut her door against me; she now invites me back. Ought I to return? No; though she should implore me.

Par. I’faith, if indeed you only can, there’s nothing better or more spirited; but if you begin, and can not hold out stoutly, and if, when you can not endure it, while no one asks you, peace being not made, you come to her of your own accord, showing that you love her, and can not endure it, you are done for; it’s all over with you; you are ruined outright. She’ll be jilting you, when she finds you overcome. Do you then, while there’s time, again and again reflect upon this, master, that a matter, which in itself admits of neither prudence nor moderation, you are unable to manage with prudence. In love there are all these evils; wrongs, suspicions, enmities, reconcilements, war, then peace; if you expect to render these things, naturally uncertain, certain by dint of reason, you wouldn’t effect it a bit the more than if you were to use your endeavors to be mad with reason. And, what you are now, in anger, meditating to yourself, “What! I to her?30 Who—him! Who—me! Who wouldn’t? Only let me alone; I had rather die; she shall find out what sort of a person I am;” these expressions, upon my faith, by a single false tiny tear, which, by rubbing her eyes, poor thing, she can hardly squeeze out perforce, she will put an end to; and she’ll be the first to accuse you; and you will be too ready to give satisfaction to her.

Phæd. O disgraceful conduct! I now perceive, both that she is perfidious, and that I am a wretched man. I am both weary of her, and burn with passion; knowing and fully sensible, alive and seeing it, I am going to ruin; nor do I know what I am to do.

Par. What you are to do? Why, only to redeem yourself, thus captivated, at the smallest price you can; if you can not at a very small rate, still for as little as you can; and do not afflict yourself.

Phæd. Do you persuade me to this?

Par. If you are wise. And don’t be adding to the troubles which love itself produces; those which it does produce, bear patiently. But see, here she is coming herself, the downfall of our fortunes,31—for that which we ought ourselves to enjoy she intercepts.

Scene II.

Enter Thais from her house.

Thais (to herself, not seeing them.) Ah wretched me! I fear lest Phædria should take it amiss or otherwise than I intended it, that he was not admitted yesterday.

Phæd. (aside to Parmeno.) I’m trembling and shivering all over, Parmeno, at the sight of her.

Par. (apart.) Be of good heart; only approach this fire,32 you’ll soon be warmer than you need.

Thais (turning round.) Who is it that’s speaking here? What, are you here, my Phædria? Why are you standing here! Why didn’t you come into the house at once?

Par. (whispering to Phædria.) But not a word about shutting you out!

Thais. Why are you silent?

Phæd. Of course, it’s because33 this door is always open to me, or because I’m the highest in your favor?

Thais. Pass those matters by.

Phæd. How pass them by? O Thais, Thais, I wish that I had equal affection with yourself, and that it were in like degree, that either this, might distress you in the same way that it distresses me, or that I might be indifferent at this being done by you.

Thais. Prithee, don’t torment yourself, my life, my Phædria. Upon my faith, I did it, not because I love or esteem any person more than you; but the case was such that it was necessary to be done.

Par. (ironically.) I suppose that, poor thing, you shut him out of doors, for love, according to the usual practice.

Thais. Is it thus you act, Parmeno? Well, well. (To Phædria.) But listen—the reason for which I desired you to be sent for hither—

Phæd. Go on.

Thais. First tell me this; can this fellow possibly hold his tongue? (pointing to Parmeno.)

Par. What, I? Perfectly well. But, hark you, upon these conditions I pledge my word to you; the truth that I hear, I’m silent upon, and retain it most faithfully; but if I hear what’s false and without foundation, it’s out at once; I’m full of chinks, and leak in every direction. Therefore, if you wish it to be kept secret, speak the truth.

Thais. My mother was a Samian; she lived at Rhodes—

Par. That may be kept a secret.

Thais. There, at that period, a certain merchant made present to my mother of a little girl, who had been stolen away from Attica here.

Par. What, a citizen?

Thais. I think so; we do not know for certain: she herself used to mention her mother’s and her father’s name; her country and other tokens she didn’t know, nor, by reason of her age, was she able. The merchant added this: that he had heard from the kidnappers that she had been carried off from Sunium.34 When my mother received her, she began carefully to teach her every thing, and to bring her up, just as though she had been her own daughter. Most persons supposed that she was my sister. Thence I came hither with that stranger, with whom alone at that period I was connected; he left me all which I now possess—

Par. Both these things are false; out it goes.

Thais. How so?

Par. Because you were neither content with one, nor was he the only one to make you presents; for he likewise (pointing to Phædria) brought a pretty considerable share to you.

Thais. Such is the fact; but do allow me to arrive at the point I wish. In the mean time, the Captain, who had begun to take a fancy to me, set out to Caria;35 since when, in the interval, I became acquainted with you. You yourself are aware how very dear I have held you; and how I confess to you all my nearest counsels.

Phæd. Nor will Parmeno be silent about that.

Par. O, is that a matter of doubt?

Thais. Attend; I entreat you. My mother died there recently; her brother is somewhat greedy after wealth. When he saw that this damsel was of beauteous form and understood music, hoping for a good price, he forthwith put her up for sale, and sold her. By good fortune this friend of mine was present; he bought her as a gift to me, not knowing or suspecting any thing of all this. He returned; but when he perceived that I had formed a connection with you as well, he feigned excuses on purpose that he might not give her; he said that if he could feel confidence that he should be preferred to yourself by me, so as not to apprehend that, when I had received her, I should forsake him, then he was ready to give her to me; but that he did fear this. But, so far as I can conjecture, he has set his affections upon the girl.

Phæd. Any thing beyond that?

Thais. Nothing; for I have made inquiry. Now, my Phædria, there are many reasons why I could wish to get her away from him. In the first place, because she was called my sister; moreover, that I may restore and deliver her to her friends. I am a lone woman; I have no one here, neither acquaintance nor relative; wherefore, Phædria, I am desirous by my good offices to secure friends. Prithee, do aid me in this, in order that it may be the more easily effected. Do allow him for the few next days to have the preference with me. Do you make no answer?

Phæd. Most vile woman! Can I make you any answer after such behavior as this?

Par. Well done, my master, I commend you; (aside) he’s galled at last. (To Phædria.) You show yourself a man.

Phæd. I was not aware what you were aiming at; “she was carried away from here, when a little child; my mother brought her up as though her own; she was called my sister; I wish to get her away, that I may restore her to her friends.” The meaning is, that all these expressions, in fine, now amount to this, that I am shut out, he is admitted. For what reason? Except that you love him more than me: and now you are afraid of her who has been brought hither, lest she should win him, such as he is, from yourself.

Thais. I, afraid of that?

Phæd. What else, then, gives you concern? Let me know. Is he the only person who makes presents? Have you found my bounty shut against you? Did I not, when you told me that you wished for a servant-maid from Æthiopia,36 setting all other matters aside, go and seek for one? Then you said that you wanted a Eunuch, because ladies of quality37 alone make use of them; I found you one. I yesterday paid twenty minæ38 for them both. Though slighted by you, I still kept these things in mind; as a reward for so doing, I am despised by you.

Thais. Phædria, what does this mean? Although I wish to get her away, and think that by these means it could most probably be effected; still, rather than make an enemy of you, I’ll do as you request me.

Phæd. I only wish that you used that expression from your heart and truthfully, “rather than make an enemy of you.” If I could believe that this was said sincerely, I could put up with any thing.

Par. (aside.) He staggers; how instantaneously is he vanquished by a single expression!

Thais. I, wretched woman, not speak from my heart? What, pray, did you ever ask of me in jest, but that you carried your point? I am unable to obtain even this of you, that you would grant me only two days.

Phæd. If, indeed, it is but two days; but don’t let these days become twenty.

Thais. Assuredly not more than two days, or—

Phæd. “Or?” I won’t have it.

Thais. It shall not be; only do allow me to obtain this of you.

Phæd. Of course that which you desire must be done.

Thais. I love you as you deserve; you act obligingly.

Phæd. (to Parmeno.) I shall go into the country; there I shall worry myself for the next two days: I’m resolved to do so; Thais must be humored. Do you, Parmeno, take care that they are brought hither.

Par. Certainly.

Phæd. For the next two days then, Thais, adieu.

Thais. And the same to you, my Phædria; do you desire aught else?

Phæd. What should I desire? That, present with the Captain, you may be as if absent; that night and day you may love me; may feel my absence; may dream of me; may be impatient for me; may think about me; may hope for me; may centre your delight in me; may be all in all with me; in fine, if you will, be my very life, as I am yours.

Exeunt Phædria and Parmeno.

Scene III.

Thais alone.

Thais, (to herself.) Ah wretched me!39 perhaps now he puts but little faith in me, and forms his estimate of me from the dispositions of other women.40 By my troth, I, who know my own self, am very sure of this, that I have not feigned any thing that’s false, and that no person is dearer to my heart than this same Phædria; and whatever in the present case I have done, for this girl’s sake have I done it; for I trust that now I have pretty nearly discovered her brother, a young man of very good family; and he has appointed this day to come to me at my house. I’ll go hence in-doors, and wait until he comes.

She goes into her house.

Scene I.

Enter Phædria and Parmeno.

Phæd. Mind that those people are taken there, as I ordered.

Par. I’ll do so.

Phæd. And carefully.

Par. It shall be done.

Phæd. And with all speed.

Par. It shall be done.

Phæd. Have you had sufficient instructions?

Par. Dear me! to ask the question, as though it were a matter of difficulty. I wish that you were able, Phædria, to find any thing as easily as this present will be lost.

Phæd. Together with it, I myself am lost, which concerns me more nearly. Don’t bear this with such a feeling of vexation.

Par. By no means; on the contrary, I’ll see it done. But do you order any thing else?

Phæd. Set off my present with words, as far as you can; and so far as you are able, do drive away that rival of mine from her.

Par. Pshaw! I should have kept that in mind, even if you hadn’t reminded me.

Phæd. I shall go into the country and remain there.

Par. I agree with you. (Moves as if going.)

Phæd. But hark you!

Par. What is it you want?

Phæd. Are you of opinion that I can muster resolution and hold out so as not to come back within the time?

Par. What, you? Upon my faith, I don’t think so; for either you’ll be returning at once, or by-and-by, at night, want of sleep will be driving you hither.

Phæd. I’ll do some laborious work, that I may be continually fatigued, so as to sleep in spite of myself.

Par. When wearied, you will be keeping awake; by this you will be making it worse.

Phæd. Oh, you talk to no purpose, Parmeno: this softness of spirit, upon my faith, must be got rid of; I indulge myself too much. Could I not do without her, pray, if there were the necessity, even for a whole three days?

Par. Whew! an entire three days! Take care what you are about.

Phæd. My mind is made up.

Exit.

Scene II.

Parmeno alone.

Par. (to himself.) Good Gods! What a malady is this! That a man should become so changed through love, that you wouldn’t know him to be the same person! Not any one was there41 less inclined to folly than he, and no one more discreet or more temperate. But who is it that’s coming this way? Heyday! surely this is Gnatho, the Captain’s Parasite; he’s bringing along with him the damsel as a present to her. Heavens! How beautiful! No wonder if I make but a sorry figure here to-day with this decrepit Eunuch of mine. She surpasses Thais herself.

Stands aside.

SCENE III.

Enter Gnatho at a distance, leading Pamphila.

Gna. (to himself.) Immortal Gods! how much does one man excel another! What a difference there is between a wise person and a fool! This strongly came into my mind from the following circumstance. As I was coming along to-day, I met a certain person of this place, of my own rank and station, no mean fellow, one who, like myself, had guttled away his paternal estate; I saw him, shabby, dirty, sickly, beset with rags and years;—“What’s the meaning of this garb?” said I; he answered, “Because, wretch that I am, I’ve lost what I possessed: see to what I am reduced,—all my acquaintances and friends forsake me.” On this I felt contempt for him in comparison with myself. “What!” said I, “you pitiful sluggard, have you so managed matters as to have no hope left? Have you lost your wits together with your estate? Don’t you see me, who have risen from the same condition? What a complexion I have, how spruce and well dressed, what portliness of person? I have every thing, yet have nothing; and although I possess nothing, still, of nothing am I in want.” “But I,” said he, “unhappily, can neither be a butt nor submit to blows.”42 “What!” said I, “do you suppose it is managed by those means? You are quite mistaken. Once upon a time, in the early ages, there was a calling for that class; this is a new mode of coney-catching; I, in fact, have been the first to strike into this path. There is a class of men who strive to be the first in every thing, but are not; to these I make my court; I do not present myself to them to be laughed at; but I am the first to laugh with them, and at the same time to admire their parts: whatever they say, I commend; if they contradict that self-same thing, I commend again. Does any one deny? I deny: does he affirm? I affirm: in fine, I have so trained myself as to humor them in every thing. This calling is now by far the most productive.”

Par. (apart.) A clever fellow, upon my faith! From being fools he makes men mad outright.

Gna. (to himself, continuing.) While we were thus talking, in the mean time we arrived at the market-place; overjoyed, all the confectioners ran at once to meet me; fishmongers,43 butchers, cooks,44 sausage-makers, and fishermen, whom, both when my fortunes were flourishing and when they were ruined, I had served, and often serve still: they complimented me, asked me to dinner, and gave me a hearty welcome. When this poor hungry wretch saw that I was in such great esteem, and that I obtained a living so easily, then the fellow began to entreat me that I would allow him to learn this method of me; I bade him become my follower45 if he could; as the disciples of the Philosophers take their names from the Philosophers themselves, so too, the Parasites ought to be called Gnathonics.

Par. (apart to the Audience.) Do you see the effects of ease and feeding at another’s cost?

Gna. (to himself, continuing.) But why do I delay to take this girl to Thais, and ask her to come to dinner? (Aside, on seeing Parmeno.) But I see Parmeno, our rival’s servant, waiting before the door of Thais with a sorrowful air; all’s safe; no doubt these people are finding a cold welcome. I’m resolved to have some sport with this knave.

Par. (aside.) They fancy that, through this present, Thais is quite their own.

Gna. (accosting Parmeno.) With his very best wishes Gnatho greets Parmeno, his very good friend.—What are you doing?

Par. I’m standing.46

Gna. So I perceive. Pray, do you see any thing here that don’t please you?

Par. Yourself.

Gna. I believe you,—but any thing else, pray?

Par. Why so?

Gna. Because you are out of spirits.

Par. Not in the least.

Gna. Well, don’t be so; but what think you of this slave? (pointing to her.)

Par. Really, not amiss.

Gna. (aside.) I’ve galled the fellow.

Par. (aside, on overhearing him.) How mistaken you are in your notion!

Gna. How far do you suppose this gift will prove acceptable to Thais?

Par. It’s this you mean to say now, that we are discarded there. Hark you, there are vicissitudes in all things.

Gna. For the next six months, Parmeno, I’ll set you at ease; you sha’n’t have to be running to and fro, or sitting up till daylight. Don’t I make you happy?

Par. Me? O prodigiously!

Gna. That’s my way with my friends.

Par. I commend you.

Gna. I’m detaining you; perhaps you were about to go somewhere else.

Par. Nowhere.

Gna. In that case then, lend me your services a little; let me be introduced to her.

Par. Very well; (Gnatho knocks at the door, which immediately opens) now the door is open for you, (aside) because you are bringing her.

Gna. (going into the house of Thais, ironically.) Should you like any one to be called out from here?

Goes in with Pamphila, and shuts the door.

Scene IV.

Parmeno, alone.

Par. (to himself.) Only let the next two days go by; you who, at present, in such high favor, are opening the door with one little finger, assuredly I’ll cause to be kicking at that door full oft, with your heels, to no purpose.

Re-enter Gnatho from the house.

Gna. Still standing here, Parmeno? Why now, have you been left on guard here, that no go-between might perchance be secretly running from the Captain to her?

Exit.

Par. Smartly said; really they ought to be wonderful things to please the Captain. But I see my master’s youngest son coming this way; I wonder why he has come away from the Piraeus,47 for he is at present on guard there in the public service. It’s not for nothing; he’s coming in a hurry, too; I can’t imagine why he’s looking around in all directions.

Scene V.

Enter Chærea on the other side of the stage, in haste.

Chæ. (to himself.) I’m utterly undone! The girl is nowhere; nor do I know where I am myself, to have lost sight of her. Where to inquire for her, where to search for her, whom to ask, which way to turn, I’m at a loss. I have only this hope; wherever she is, she can not long be concealed. O what beauteous features! from this moment I banish all other women from my thoughts; I can not endure these every-day beauties.

Par. (apart.) Why look, here’s the other one. He’s saying something, I don’t know what, about love. O unfortunate old man, their father! This assuredly is a youth, who, if he does begin, you will say that the other one was mere play and pastime, compared with what the madness of this one will cause.

Chæ. (to himself, aloud.) May all the Gods and Goddesses confound that old fellow who detained me to-day, and me as well who stopped for him, and in fact troubled myself a straw about him. But see, here’s Parmeno. (Addressing him.) Good-morrow to you.

Par. Why are you out of spirits, and why in such a hurry? Whence come you?

Chæ. What, I? I’faith, I neither know whence I’m come, nor whither I’m going; so utterly have I lost myself.

Par. How, pray?

Chæ. I’m in love.

Par. (starting.) Ha!

Chæ. Now, Parmeno, you may show what sort of a man you are. You know that you often promised me to this effect: “Chærea, do you only find some object to fall in love with; I’ll make you sensible of my usefulness in such matters,” when I used to be storing up my father’s provisions for you on the sly in your little room.48

Par. To the point, you simpleton.

Chæ. Upon my faith, this is the fact. Now, then, let your promises be made good, if you please, or if indeed the affair is a deserving one for you to exert your energies upon. The girl isn’t like our girls, whom their mothers are anxious to have with shoulders kept down, and chests well girthed,49 that they may be slender. If one is a little inclined to plumpness, they declare that she’s training for a boxer,50 and stint her food; although their constitutions are good, by their treatment they make them as slight as bulrushes; and so for that reason they are admired, forsooth.

Par. What sort of a girl is this one of yours?

Chæ. A new style of beauty.

Par. (ironically.) Astounding!

Chæ. Her complexion genuine,51 her flesh firm and full of juiciness.52

Par. Her age?

Chæ. Her age? Sixteen.

Par. The very flower of youth.53

Chæ. Do you make it your care to obtain her for me either by force, stealth, or entreaty; so that I only gain her, it matters not how to me.

Par. Well, but to whom does the damsel belong?

Chæ. That, i’faith, I don’t know.

Par. Whence did she come?

Chæ. That, just as much.

Par. Where does she live?

Chæ. Nor yet do I know that.

Par. Where did you see her?

Chæ. In the street.

Par. How did you come to lose her?

Chæ. Why, that’s what I was just now fretting myself about; and I do not believe that there is one individual to whom all good luck is a greater stranger than to myself. What ill fortune this is! I’m utterly undone!

Par. What’s the matter?

Chæ. Do you ask me? Do you know Archidemides, my father’s kinsman and years’-mate?

Par. Why not?

Chæ. He, while I was in full pursuit of her, met me.

Par. Unseasonably, upon my faith.

Chæ. Aye, unhappily, rather; for other ordinary matters are to be called “unseasonable,” Parmeno. It would be safe for me to make oath that I have not seen him for fully these six or seven months, until just now, when I least wanted, and there was the least occasion. Come now! isn’t this like a fatality? What do you say?

Par. Extremely so.

Chæ. At once he came running up to me, from a considerable distance, stooping, palsied, hanging his lip, and wheezing. “Halloo, Chærea! halloo!” said he; “I’ve something to say to you.” I stopped. “Do you know what it is I want with you?” said he. “Say on,” said I. “To-morrow my cause comes on,” said he. “What then?” “Be sure and tell your father to remember and be my advocate54 in the morning.” In talking of this, an hour elapsed.55 I inquired if he wanted any thing else. “That’s all,” said he. I left him. When I looked in this direction for the damsel, she had that very instant turned thia way down this street of ours.

Par. (aside.) It’s a wonder if he doesn’t mean her who has just now been made a present of to Thais here.

Chæ. When I got here, she was nowhere to be seen.

Par. Some attendants, I suppose, were accompanying the girl?

Chæ. Yes; a Parasite, and a female servant.

Par. (apart.) It’s the very same. (To Chærea.) It’s all over with you; make an end of it; you’ve said your last.56

Chæ. You are thinking about something else.

Par. Indeed I’m thinking of this same matter.

Chæ. Pray, tell me, do you know her, or did you see her?

Par. I did see, and I do know her; I am aware to what house she has been taken.

Chæ. What, my dear Parmeno, do you know her, and are you aware where she is?

Par. She has been brought here (pointing) to the house of Thais the Courtesan.57 She has been made a present to her.

Chæ. What opulent person is it, to be presenting a gift so precious as this?

Par. The Captain Thraso, Phædria’s rival.

Chæ. An unpleasant business for my brother, it should seem.

Par. Aye, and if you did but know what present he is pitting against this present, you would say so still more.

Chæ. Troth now, what is it, pray?

Par. A Eunuch.58

Chæ. What! that unsightly creature, pray, that he purchased yesterday, an old woman?

Par. That very same.

Chæ. To a certainty, the gentleman will be bundled out of doors, together with his present; but I wasn’t aware that this Thais is our neighbor.

Par. It isn’t long since she came.

Chæ. Unhappy wretch that I am! never to have seen her, even. Come now, just tell me, is she as handsome as she is reported to be?59

Par. Quite.

Chæ. But nothing in comparison with this damsel of mine?

Par. Another thing altogether.

Chæ. Troth now, Parmeno, prithee do contrive for me to gain possession of her.

Par. I’ll do my best, and use all my endeavors; I’ll lend you my assistance. (Going.) Do you want any thing else with me?

Chæ. Where are you going now?

Par. Home; to take those slaves to Thais, as your brother ordered me.

Chæ. Oh, lucky Eunuch that! really, to be sent as a present to that house! Par. Why so?

Chæ. Do you ask? Ho will always see at home a fellow-servant of consummate beauty, and he conversing with her; he will be in the same house with her; sometimes he will take his meals with her; sometimes sleep near her.

Par. What now, if you yourself were to be this fortunate person?

Chæ. By what means, Parmeno? Tell me.

Par. Do you assume his dress.

Chæ. His dress! Well, what then?

Par. I’ll take you there instead of him.

Chæ. (musing.) I hear you.

Par. I’ll say that you are he.

Chæ. I understand you.

Par. You may enjoy those advantages which you just now said he would enjoy; you may take your meals together with her, be in company with her, touch her, dally with her, and sleep by her side; as not one of these women is acquainted with you, nor yet knows who you are. Besides, you are of an age and figure that you may easily pass for a eunuch.

Chæ. You speak to the purpose; I never knew better counsel given. Well, let’s go in at once; dress me up, take me away, lead me to her, as fast as you can.

Par. What do you mean? Really, I was only joking.

Chæ. You talk nonsense.

Par. I’m undone! Wretch that I am! what have I done? (Chærea pushes him along.) Whither are you pushing me? You’ll throw me down presently. I entreat you, be quiet.

Chæ. Let’s be off. (Pushes him.)

Par. Do you still persist?

Chæ. I am resolved upon it.

Par. Only take care that this isn’t too rash a project.

Chæ. Certainly it isn’t; let me alone for that.

Par. Aye, but I shall have to pay the penalty60 for this?

Chæ. Pshaw!

Par. We shall be guilty of a disgraceful action.

Chæ. What, is it disgraceful61 to be taken to the house of a Courtesan, and to return the compliment upon those tormentors who treat us and our youthful age so scornfully, and who are always tormenting us in every way;—to dupe them just as we are duped by them? Or is it right and proper that in preference my father should be wheedled out of his money by deceitful pretexts? Those who knew of this would blame me; while all would think the other a meritorious act.

Par. What’s to be done in such case? If you are determined to do it, you must do it: but don’t you by-and-by be throwing the blame upon me.

Chæ.. I shall not do so.

Par. Do you order me, then?

Chæ. I order, charge, and command you; I will never disavow my authorizing you.

Par. Follow me; may the Gods prosper it!

They go into the house of Laches.

Scene I.

Enter Thraso and Gnatho.

Thra. Did Thais really return me many thanks?

Gna. Exceeding thanks.

Thra. Was she delighted, say you?

Gna. Not so much, indeed, at the present itself, as because it was given by you; really, in right earnest, she does exult at that.

Enter Parmeno unseen, from Laches’ house.

Par. (apart.) I’ve come here to be on the look-out, that when there is an opportunity I may take the presents. But see, here’s the Captain.

Thra. Undoubtedly it is the case with me, that every thing I do is a cause for thankfulness.

Gna. Upon my faith, I’ve observed it.

Thra. The most mighty King,62 even, always used to give me especial thanks for whatever I did; but not so to others.

Gna. He who has the wit that you have, often by his words appropriates to himself the glory that has been achieved by the labor of others.

Thra. You’ve just hit it.63

Gna. The king, then, kept you in his eye.64

Thra. Just so.

Gna. To enjoy your society.

Thra. True; he intrusted to me all his army, all his state secrets.

Gna. Astonishing!

Thra. Then if, on any occasion, a surfeit of society, or a dislike of business, came upon him, when he was desirous to take some recreation; just as though—you understand?65

Gna. I know; just as though on occasion he would rid his mind of those anxieties.

Thra. You have it. Then he used to take me aside as his only boon companion.

Gna. Whew! You are telling of a King of refined taste.

Thra. Aye, he is a person of that sort; a man of but very few acquaintanceships.

Gna. (aside.) Indeed, of none,66 I fancy, if he’s on intimate terms with you.

Thra. All the people envied me, and attacked me privately. I don’t care one straw. They envied me dreadfully; but one in particular, whom the King had appointed over the Indian elephants.67 Once, when he became particularly troublesome, “Prithee, Strato,” said I, “are you so fierce because you hold command over the wild beasts?”

Gna. Cleverly said, upon my faith, and shrewdly. Astounding! You did give the fellow a home thrust. What said he?

Thra. Dumfounded, instantaneously.

Gna. How could he be otherwise?

Par. (apart.) Ye Gods, by our trust in you! a lost and miserable fellow the one, and the other a scoundrel.

Thra. Well then, about that matter, Gnatho, the way in which I touched up the Rhodian at a banquet—did I never tell you?

Gna. Never; but pray, do tell me. (Aside.) I’ve heard it more than a thousand times already.

Thra. There was in my company at a banquet, this young man of Rhodes, whom I’m speaking of. By chance I had a mistress there; he began to toy with her, and to annoy me. “What are you doing, sir impudence?” said I to the fellow; “a hare yourself, and looking out for game?”68

Gna. (pretending to laugh very heartily.) Ha, ha, ha!

Thra. What’s the matter?

Gna. How apt, how smart, how clever; nothing could be more excellent. Prithee, was this a saying of yours? I fancied it was an old one.

Thra. Did you ever hear it before?

Gna. Many a time; and it is mentioned among the first-rate ones.

Thra. It’s my own.

Gna. I’m sorry though that it was said to a thoughtless young man, and one of respectability.

Par. (apart.) May the Gods confound you!

Gna. Pray, what did he do?

Thra. Quite disconcerted. All who were present were dying with laughter; in short, they were all quite afraid of me.

Gna. Not without reason.

Thra. But hark you, had I best clear myself of this to Thais, as to her suspicion that I’m fond of this girl?

Gna. By no means: on the contrary, rather increase her jealousy.

Thra. Why so?

Gna. Do you ask me? Don’t you see, if on any occasion she makes mention of Phædria or commends him, to provoke you——

Thra. I understand.

Gna. That such may not be the case, this method is the only remedy. When she speaks of Phædria, do you instantly mention Pamphila. If at any time she says, “Let’s invite Phædria to make one,” do you say, “Let’s ask Pamphila to sing.” If she praises his good looks, do you, on the other hand, praise hers. In short, do you return like for like, which will mortify her.

Thra. If, indeed, she loved me,69 this might be of some use, Gnatho.

Gna. Since she is impatient for and loves that which you give her, she already loves you; as it is, then, it is an easy matter for her to feel vexed. She will be always afraid lest the presents which she herself is now getting, you may on some occasion be taking elsewhere.

Thra. Well said; that never came into my mind.

Gna. Nonsense. You never thought about it; else how much more readily would you yourself have hit upon it, Thraso!

Scene II.

Enter Thais from her house, attended by Pythias.

Thais, (as she comes out.) I thought I just now heard the Captain’s voice. And look, here he is. Welcome, my dear Thraso.

Thra. O my Thais, my sweet one, how are you? How much do you love me in return for that music girl?

Par. (apart.) How polite! What a beginning he has made on meeting her!

Thais. Very much, as you deserve.

Gna. Let’s go to dinner then. (To Thraso.) What do you stand here for?

Par. (apart.) Then there’s the other one: you would declare that he was born for his belly’s sake.

Thra. When you please; I sha’n’t delay.

Par. (apart.) I’ll accost them, and pretend as though I had just come out. (He comes forward.) Are you going any where, Thais?

Thais. Ha! Parmeno; well done; just going out for the day.

Par. Where?

Thais, (aside, pointing at Thraso.) Why! don’t you see him?

Par. (aside.) I see him, and I’m sorry for it. (Aloud.) Phædria’s presents are ready for you when you please.

Thra. (impatiently.) Why are we to stand here? Why don’t we be off?

Par. (to Thraso.) Troth now, pray, do let us, with your leave, present to her the things we intend, and accost and speak to her.

Thra. (ironically.) Very fine presents, I suppose, or at least equal to mine.

Par. The fact will prove itself. (Goes to the door of Laches’ house and calls.) Ho there! bid those people come out of doors at once, as I ordered.

Enter from the house a Black Girl.

Par. Do you step forward this way, (To Thais.) She comes all the way from Æthiopia.

Thra. (contemptuously.) Here are some three minæ in value.

Gna. Hardly so much.

Par. Where are you, Dorus? Step this way.

Enter Chærea from the house, dressed like the Eunuch.

Par. There’s a Eunuch for you—of what a genteel appearance! of what a prime age!

Thais. God bless me, he’s handsome.

Par. What say you, Gnatho? Do you see any thing to find fault with? And what say you, Thraso? (Aside.) They hold their tongues; they praise him sufficiently thereby. (To Thais.) Make trial of him in literature, try him in exercises,70 and in music; I’ll warrant him well skilled in what it becomes a gentleman to know.

Thra. That Eunuch, if occasion served,71 even in my sober senses, I—

Par. And he who has sent these things makes no request that you will live for him alone, and that for his own sake others may be excluded; he neither tells of battles nor shows his scars, nor does he restrict you as (looking at Thraso) a certain person does; but when it is not inconvenient, whenever you think fit, whenever you have the time, he is satisfied to be admitted.

Thra. (to Gnatho, contemptuously.) It appears that this is the servant of some beggarly, wretched master.

Gna. Why, faith, no person, I’m quite sure of that, could possibly put up with him, who had the means to get another.

Par. You hold your tongue—a fellow whom I consider beneath all men of the very lowest grade: for when you can bring yourself to flatter that fellow (pointing at Thraso), I do believe you could pick your victuals out of the very flames.72

Thra. Are we to go now?

Thais. I’ll take these in-doors first (pointing to Chærea and the Æthiopian), and at the same time I’ll order what I wish; after that I’ll return immediately.

Goes into the house with Pythias, Chærea, and the Slave.

Thra. (to Gnatho.) I shall be off. Do you wait for her.

Par. It is not a proper thing for a general to be walking in the street with a mistress.

Thra. Why should I use many words with you? You are the very ape of your master.

Exit Parmeno.

Gna. (laughing.) Ha, ha, ha!

Thra. What are you laughing at?

Gna. At what you were mentioning just now; that saying, too, about the Rhodian, recurred to my mind. But Thais is coming out.

Thra. You go before; take care that every thing is ready at home.

Gna. Very well.

Exit.

Re-enter Thais, with Pythias and Female Attendants.

Thais. Take care, Pythias, and be sure that if Chremes should happen to come,73 to beg him to wait; if that is not convenient, then to come again; if he can not do that, bring him to me.

Pyth. I’ll do so.

Thais. Well, what else was I intending to say? O, do you take particular care of that young woman; be sure that you keep at home.

Thra. Let us begone.

Thais, (to her attendants.) You follow me.

Exeunt Thais and Thraso, followed by the Attendants. Pythias goes into the house.

Scene III.

Enter Chremes.

Chrem. (to himself.) Why, really, the more and more I think of it, I shouldn’t be surprised if this Thais should be doing me some great mischief; so cunningly do I perceive myself beset by her. Even on the occasion when she first requested me to be fetched to her (any one might ask me, “What business had you with her?” Really I don’t know.) When I came, she found an excuse for me to remain there; she said that she had been offering a sacrifice,74 and that she was desirous to speak upon some important business with me. Even then I had a suspicion that all these things were being done for her artful purposes. She takes her place beside me; pays every attention to me; seeks an opportunity of conversation. When the conversation flagged, she turned off to this point—how long since my father and mother died? I said that it was now a long time ago. Whether I had any country-house at Sunium, and how far from the sea? I suppose that this has taken her fancy, and she expects to get it away from me. Then at last, whether any little sister of mine had been lost from there; whether any person was with her; what she had about her when she was lost; whether any one could recognize her. Why should she make these inquiries? Unless, perhaps, she pretends—so great is her assurance—that she herself is the same person that was formerly lost when a little girl. But if she is alive, she is sixteen years old, not older; whereas Thais is somewhat older than I am. She has sent to press me earnestly to come. Either let her speak out what she wants, or not be troublesome; I assuredly shall not come a third time (knocking at the door of Thais). Ho! there, ho! there! Is any one here? It’s I, Chremes.

Scene IV.

Enter Pythias from the house.

Pyth. O most charming, dear creature!

Chrem. (apart.) I said there was a design upon me.

Pyth. Thais entreated you most earnestly to come again to-morrow.

Chrem. I’m going into the country.

Pyth. Do, there’s a dear sir.

Chrem. I can not, I tell you.

Pyth. Then stay here at our house till she comes back.

Chrem. Nothing less likely.

Pyth. Why, my dear Chremes? (Taking hold of him.)

Chrem. (shaking her off.) Away to perdition with you!

Pyth. If you are so determined about it, pray do step over to the place where she is.

Chrem. I’ll go there.

Pyth. (calling at the door.) Here, Dorias (Dorias enters), show this person directly to the Captain’s.

Exit Chremes with Dorias, Pythias goes into the house.

Scene V.

Enter Antipho.

Ant. (to himself.) Yesterday some young fellows of us agreed together at the Piræus that we were to go shares today in a club-entertainment. We gave Chærea charge of this matter; our rings were given75 as pledges; the place and time arranged. The time has now gone by; at the place appointed there was nothing ready. The fellow himself is nowhere to be met with; I neither know what to say nor what to suppose. Now the rest have commissioned me with this business, to look for him. I’ll go see, therefore, if he’s at home. But who’s this, I wonder, coming out of Thais’s? Is it he, or is it not? ’Tis the very man! What, sort of being is this? What kind of garb is this? What mischief is going on now? I can not sufficiently wonder or conjecture. But, whatever it is, I should like first at a distance to try and find out.

He stands apart.

Scene VI.

Enter Chærea from the house of Thais, in the Eunuch’s dress.

Chæ. (looking around, then aloud to himself.) Is there anybody here? There’s no one. Is there any one following me from there? There’s not a person. Now am I not at liberty to give vent to these raptures? O supreme Jupiter! now assuredly is the time for me to meet my death,76 when I can so well endure it; lest my life should sully this ecstasy with some disaster. But is there now no inquisitive person to be intruding upon me, to be following me wherever I go, to be deafening me, worrying me to death, with asking questions; why thus transported, or why so overjoyed, whither I’m going, whence I’m come, where I got this garb, what is my object, whether I’m in my senses or whether downright mad?

Ant. (apart.) I’ll accost him, and I’ll do him the favor which I see he’s wishing for. (Accosting him.) Chærea, why are you thus transported? What’s the object of this garb? Why is it that you’re so overjoyed? What is the meaning of this? Are you quite right in your senses? Why do you stare at me? What have you to say?

Chæ. O joyous day! O welcome, my friend! There’s not one in all the world whom I would rather wish to see at this moment than yourself.

Ant. Pray, do tell me what all this means.

Chæ. Nay rather, i’faith, I beg of you to listen to me. Do you know the mistress whom my brother is so fond of?

Ant. I know her; I suppose you mean Thais?

Chæ. The very same.

Ant. So far I recollect.

Chæ. To-day a certain damsel was presented to her. Why now should I extol or commend her beauty to you, Antipho, since you yourself know how nice a judge of beauty I am? I have been smitten by her.

Ant. Do you say so?

Chæ. If you saw her, I am sure you would say she’s exquisite. What need of many words? I fell in love with her. By good luck there was at our house a certain Eunuch, whom my brother had purchased for Thais, and he had not as yet been sent to her. On this occasion, Parmeno, our servant, made a suggestion to me, which I adopted.

Ant. What was it?

Chæ. Be quiet, and you shall hear the sooner; to change clothes with him, and order myself to be taken there in his stead.

Ant. What, instead of the Eunuch?

Chæ. The fact.

Ant. To receive what advantage, pray, from this plan?

Chæ. Do you ask? That I might see, hear, and be in company with her whom I loved, Antipho. Is that a slight motive, or a poor reason? I was presented to the woman. She, as soon as she received me, joyfully took me home to her house and intrusted the damsel—

Ant. To whom? To you?

Chæ. To me.

Ant. (ironically.) In perfect safety, at all events.

Chæ. She gave orders that we male was to come near her, and commanded me not to stir away from her; that I was to remain alone with her in the inner apartments.77 Looking bashfully on the ground, I nodded assent.

Ant. (ironically.) Poor fellow!

Chæ. (continuing.) “I am going out,” said she, “to dinner.” She took her maids with her; a few novices of girls78 remained, to be about her. These immediately made preparations for her to bathe. I urged them to make haste. While preparations were being made, the damsel sat in a room looking up at a certain painting,79 in which was represented how Jove80 is said once to have sent a golden shower into the bosom of Danaë. I myself began to look at it as well, and as he had in former times played the like game, I felt extremely delighted that a God should change himself into money, and slily come through the tiles of another person’s house, to deceive the fair one by means of a shower. But what God was this? He who shakes the most lofty temples of heaven with his thunders. Was I, a poor creature of a mortal,81 not to do the same? Certainly, I was to do it, and without hesitation. While I was thinking over these matters with myself, the damsel meantime was fetched away to bathe; she went, bathed, and came back; after which they laid her on a couch. I stood waiting to see if they gave me any orders. One came up, “Here, Dorus,” said she, “take this fan,82 and let her have a little air in this fashion, while we are bathing; when we have bathed, if you like, you may bathe too.” With a demure air I took it.

Ant. Really, I should very much have liked to see that impudent face of yours just then, and what figure a great donkey like you made, holding a fan!

Chæ. (continuing.) Hardly had she said this, when all, in a moment, betook themselves off: away they went to bathe, and chattered aloud;83 just as the way is when masters are absent. Meanwhile, sleep overtook the damsel; I slily looked askance84 through the fan;85 this way (showing how): at the same time I looked round in all directions, to see whether all was quite safe. I saw that it was. I bolted the door.

Ant. What then?

Chæ. Eh? What then, you simpleton?

Ant. I own I am.

Chæ. Was I to let slip the opportunity offered me, so excellent, so short-lived,86 so longed for, so unexpected. In that case, i’faith, I really should have been the person I was pretending to be.

Ant. Troth, you certainly are in the right; but, meantime, what has been arranged about the club-entertainment?

Chæ. All’s ready.

Ant. You are a clever band; but where? At your house?

Chæ. No, at Discus’s, our freedman.

Ant. That’s a long way off.

Chæ. Then let’s make so much the greater haste.

Ant. Change your dress.

Chæ. Where am I to change it? I’m at a loss; for at present I’m an exile from home; I’m afraid of my brother, lest he should be in-doors: and then again of my father, lest he should have returned from the country by this.

Ant. Let’s go to my house; there is the nearest place for you to change.

Chæ. You say right. Let’s be off; besides, I want to take counsel with you about this girl, by what means I may be able to secure the future possession of her.

Ant. Very well.

Exeunt.

Scene I.

Enter Dorias, with a casket in her hand.

Dorias (to herself.) So may the Gods bless me, but from what I have seen, I’m terribly afraid that this mad fellow will be guilty of some disturbance to-day or of some violence to Thais. For when this young man, the brother of the damsel, arrived, she begged the Captain to order him to be admitted; he immediately began to get into a passion, and yet didn’t dare refuse; Thais still insisted that he would invite the man in. This she did for the sake of detaining him; because there was no opportunity just then of telling him what she wanted to disclose about her sister. He was invited in, and took his seat. Then she entered into discourse with him. But the Captain, fancying it was a rival brought before his very eyes, wanted in his turn to mortify her: “Hark you, boy,” said he, “go fetch Pamphila, that she may amuse us here.” She exclaimed, “At a banquet! Certainly not.” The Captain still persisted to a downright quarrel. Meanwhile my mistress secretly took off her golden jewels,87 and gave them to me to take away: this is a sign, I’m sure, that she’ll betake herself from there as soon as she possibly can.

Goes into the house.

Scene II.

Enter Phædria.

Phæd. (to himself.) While I was going88 into the country, I began on the road, as it mostly happens when there is any anxiety on the mind, to reflect with myself upon one thing after another, and upon every thing in the worst light. What need of words? While I was musing thus, inadvertently I passed my country-house. I had already got some distance from it, when I perceived this; I returned again, really feeling quite uneasy; when I came to the very turning that leads to the house, I came to a stop, and began to reason with myself; “What! must I stay here alone for two days without her? Well, and what then? It’s nothing at all. What? Nothing at all? Well now, if I haven’t the privilege of touching her, am I not even to have that of seeing her? If I may not do the one, at least I may the other. Surely to love at a distance89 even, is better than nothing at all.” I purposely passed the house. But how’s this, that Pythias is suddenly hurrying out in such a fright?

Stands apart.

Scene III.

Enter Pythias and Dorias in haste from the house of Thais.

Pyth. (aloud.) Where, wretch that I am, shall I find this wicked and impious fellow? Or where look for him? That he should dare to commit so audacious a crime as this! I’m ruined outright!

Phæd. (apart.) I dread what this may be.

Pyth. Besides, too, the villain, after he had abused the girl, rent all the poor thing’s clothes, and tore her hair as well.

Phæd. (apart, in surprise.) Ha!

Pyth. If he were just now in my reach, how eagerly would I fly at that villain’s eyes with my nails!

Phæd. (apart.) Really I can’t imagine what disturbance has happened to us at home in my absence. I’ll accost them. (Going up to them.) What’s the matter? Why in such haste? Or whom are you looking for, Pythias?

Pyth. Why, Phædria, whom should I be looking for? Away with you, as you deserve, with such fine presents of yours.

Phæd. What is the matter?

Pyth. What, do you ask? The Eunuch you gave us, what confusion he has caused. He has ravished the girl whom the Captain made present of to my mistress.

Phæd. What is it you say?

Pyth. I’m ruined outright!

Phæd. You are drunk.

Pyth. I wish that they were so, who wish ill to me.

Dorias. Oh, prithee, my dear Pythias, what a monstrous thing this is!

Phæd. You are out of your senses. How could a Eunuch possibly do this?

Pyth. I know nothing about him: as to what he has done, the thing speaks for itself. The girl is in tears; and when you ask her what’s the matter, she does not dare tell. But he, a precious fellow, is nowhere to be seen. To my sorrow I suspect too, that when he took himself off he carried something away from the house.

Phæd. I can not enough wonder, whither this varlet can possibly have betaken himself to any distance from here; unless perhaps he has returned home to our house.

Pyth. Pray, go and see whether he is there.

Phæd. I’ll let you know immediately.

Goes into the house of Laches.

Dorias. Ruined outright! Prithee, my dear, I never did so much as hear of a deed so abominable!

Pyth. Why, faith, I had heard that they were extremely fond of the women, but were incapable; unfortunately what has happened never came into my mind; otherwise I should have shut him up somewhere, and not have intrusted the girl to him.

Scene IV.

Enter Phædria from the house of Laches, with Dorus in Chærea’s clothes.

Phæd. (dragging him out.) Come out, you villain! What, do you lag behind, you runaway? Out with you, you sorry bargain!

Dorus (crying out.) Mercy, I do entreat you!

Phæd. Oh, do look at that! How the villain distorts his face. What means your coming back hither? Why this change of dress? What have you to say? If I had delayed a moment, Pythias, I shouldn’t have found him at home: he had just prepared, in this fashion, for flight. (Pointing at his dress.)

Pyth. Have you caught the fellow, pray?

Phæd. Caught him, why not?

Pyth. O well done!

Dorias. Upon my faith that really is capital!

Pyth. Where is he?

Phæd. Do you ask the question? Don’t you see him? (Pointing to the Eunuch.)

Pyth. (staring about.) See whom, pray?

Phæd. This fellow, to be sure (pointing).

Pyth. What person is this?

Phæd. The same that was brought to your house to-day.

Pyth. Not one of our people has ever beheld this person with her eyes, Phædria.

Phæd. Not beheld him?

Pyth. Prithee, did you fancy that this was he who was brought to our house?

Phæd. Why, I had no other.

Pyth. O dear! this one really isn’t to be compared with the other. He was of a handsome and genteel appearance.

Phæd. He seemed so, just then, because he was decked out in party-colored clothes:90 now he appears ugly, for this reason—because he hasn’t got them on.

Pyth. Prithee, do hold your tongue; as though indeed the difference was so trifling. A young man was brought to our house to-day, whom, really, Phædria, you would have liked to look upon. This is a withered, antiquated, lethargic, old fellow, with a speckled complexion.91

Phæd. (starting.) Hah! What tale is this? You’ll so be-fool me that I sha’n’t know what I bought. (To Dorus.) How now, sirrah, did I not buy you?

Dorus. You did buy me.

Pyth. Bid him answer me in my turn.

Phæd. Question him.

Pyth. (to Dorus.) Did you come here to-day to our house? (Dorus shakes his head.) He says, no. But it was the other one that came, about sixteen years of age; whom Parmeno brought with him.

Phæd. (to Dorus.) Well now, in the first place tell me this, where did you get that dress that you have on? What, are you silent? Monster of a fellow, are you not going to speak (Shakes him.)

Dorus. Chærea came.

Phæd. What, my brother?

Dorus. Yes.

Phæd. When?

Dorus. To-day.

Phæd. How long since?

Dorus. Just now.

Phæd. With whom?

Dorus. With Parmeno.

Phæd. Did you know him before?

Dorus. No.

Phæd. How did you know he was my brother?

Dorus. Parmeno said he was. He gave me these clothes.

Phæd. I’m undone!

Dorus. He himself put on mine; afterward, they both went out together.

Pyth. Now are you quite satisfied that I am sober, and that we have told you no falsehood? Is it now sufficiently evident that the girl has been ravished?

Phæd. Avaunt, you beast, do you believe what he says?

Pyth. What is there to believe? The thing speaks for itself.

Phæd. (apart to Dorus.) Step aside a little this way. Do you hear? (Dorus steps aside.) A little further still. That will do. Now tell me this once more; did Chærea take your clothes off you?

Dorus. He did.

Phæd. And did he put them on?

Dorus. He did.

Phæd. And was he brought here instead of you?

Dorus. Yes.

Phæd. Great Jupiter! O wicked and audacious fellow!

Pyth. Woe unto me! Now at last will you believe that we have been insulted in a disgraceful manner?

Phæd. It is no wonder that you believe what the fellow says. (Aside.) What I’m to do I know not. (Aside to Dorus.) Hark you, deny it all again. (Aloud.) Can I not this day extract the truth from you? Did you really see my brother Chærea?

Dorus. No.

Phæd. He can’t be brought to confess without being punished, I see: follow me this way. At one moment he affirms, at another denies. (Aside.) Ask pardon of me.

Dorus. Indeed, I do entreat you, Phædria.

Phæd. (kicking him.) Be off in-doors.

Dorus. Oh! oh!

Phæd. (aside.) How in any other fashion to get decently out of this I don’t know; for really it’s all up with me. (Aloud, with pretended indignation.) Will you be trifling with me even here, you knave?

Follows Dorus into the house.

Scene V.

Pythias and Dorias.

Pyth. I’m as certain that this is the contrivance of Parmeno as that I’m alive.

Dorias. So it is, no doubt.

Pyth. I’faith, I’ll find out a method to-day to be even with him. But now, what do you think ought to be done, Dorias?

Dorias. Do you mean with regard to this girl?

Pyth. Yes; whether I ought to mention it or be silent?

Dorias. Upon my word, if you are prudent, you won’t know what you do know, either about the Eunuch or the girl’s misfortune. By this method you’ll both rid yourself of all perplexity, and have done a service to her.92 Say this only, that Dorus has run away.

Pyth. I’ll do so.

Dorias. But don’t I see Chremes? Thais will be here just now.

Pyth. Why so?

Dorias. Because when I came away from there, a quarrel had just commenced between them.

Pyth. Take in these golden trinkets; I shall learn from him what’s the matter.

Dorias takes the casket into the house.

Scene VI.

Enter Chremes, somewhat drunk.

Chrem. Heyday! upon my faith, I’ve been bamboozled: the wine that I’ve drunk has got the upper hand. But, so long as I was reclining, how extremely sober I did seem to myself to be; when I got up, neither feet nor senses were quite equal to their duty.

Pyth. Chremes!

Chrem. (turning round.) Who’s that? What, Pythias; dear me, how much more charming you now seem to me than a short time since!

Pyth. Troth now, you are much more merry, that’s certain.

Chrem. Upon my faith, it is a true saying, that “Venus grows cold without Ceres and Bacchus.” But has Thais got here long before me?

Pyth. Has she already come away from the Captain’s?

Chrem. A long time ago; an age since. There has been a most violent quarrel between them.

Pyth. Did she say nothing about you following her?

Chrem. Nothing at all; only, on going away, she gave me a nod.

Pyth. Well now, wasn’t that enough?

Chrem. Why, I didn’t know that she meant that, until the Captain gave me an explanation, because I was dull of comprehension; for he bundled me out of the house. But look, here she is; I wonder how it was I got here before her.

Scene VII.

Enter Thais.

Thais. (to herself.) I really do believe that he’ll be here presently, to force her away from me. Let him come; but if he touches her with a single finger, that instant his eyes shall be torn out. I can put up with his impertinences and his high-sounding words, as long as they remain words: but if they are turned into realities, he shall get a drubbing.

Chrem. Thais, I’ve been here some time.

Thais. O my dear Chremes, you are the very person I was wanting. Are you aware that this quarrel took place on your account, and that the whole of this affair, in fact, bore reference to yourself?

Chrem. To me? How so, pray?

Thais. Because, while I’ve been doing my best to recover and restore your sister to you, this and a great deal more like it I’ve had to put up with.

Chrem. Where is she?

Thais. At home, at my house.

Chrem. (starting.) Hah!

Thais. What’s the matter? She has been brought up in a manner worthy of yourself and of her.

Chrem. What is it you say?

Thais. That which is the fact. Her I present to you, nor do I ask of you any return for her.

Chrem. Thanks are both felt and shall be returned in such way, Thais, as you deserve.

Thais. But still, take care, Chremes, that you don’t lose her, before you receive her from me; for it is she, whom the Captain is now coming to take away from me by force. Do you go, Pythias, and bring out of the house the casket with the tokens.93

Chrem. (looking down the side Scene.) Don’t you see him, Thais?

Pyth. (to Thais.) Where is it put?

Thais. In the clothes’ chest. Tiresome creature, why do you delay?

Pythias goes into the house.

Chrem. What a large body of troops the Captain is bringing with him against you. Bless me!

Thais. Prithee, are you frightened, my dear sir?

Chrem. Get out with you. What, I frightened? There’s not a man alive less so.

Thais. Then now is the time to prove it.

Chrem. Why, I wonder what sort of a man you take me to be.

Thais. Nay, and consider this too; the person that you have to deal with is a foreigner;94 of less influence than you, less known, and one that has fewer friends here.

Chrem. I’m aware of that; but it’s foolish to run the risk of what you are able to avoid. I had rather we should prevent it, than, having received an injury, avenge ourselves upon him. Do you go in and fasten the door, while I run across hence to the Forum; I should like us to have the aid of some legal adviser in this disturbance. (Moves, as if going.)

Thais. (holding him.) Stay.

Chrem. Let me go, I’ll be here presently.

Thais. There’s no occasion, Chremes. Only say that she is your sister, and that you lost her when a little girl, and have now recognized her; then show the tokens.

Re-enter Pythias from the house, with the trinkets.

Pyth. (giving them to Thais.) Here they are.

Thais. (giving them to Chremes.) Take them. If he offers any violence, summon the fellow to justice; do you understand me?

Chrem. Perfectly.

Thais. Take care and say this with presence of mind.

Chrem. I’ll take care.

Thais. Gather up your cloak. (Aside.) Undone! the very person whom I’ve provided as a champion, wants one himself.

They all go into the house.

Scene VIII.

Enter Thraso, followed by Gnatho, Sanga, and other Attendants.

Thra. Am I to submit, Gnatho, to such a glaring affront as this being put upon me? I’d die sooner. Simalio, Donax, Syriscus, follow me! First, I’ll storm the house.

Gna. Quite right.

Thra. I’ll carry off the girl.

Gna. Very good.

Thra. I’ll give her own self a mauling.

Gna. Very proper.

Thra. (arranging the men.) Advance hither to the main body, Donax, with your crowbar; you, Simalio, to the left wing; you, Syriscus, to the right. Bring up the rest; where’s the centurion Sanga, and his maniple95 of rogues?

San. (coming forward.) See, here he is.

Thra. What, you booby, do you think of fighting with a dish-clout,96 to be bringing that here?

San. What, I? I knew the valor of the general, and the prowess of the soldiers; and that this could not possibly go on without bloodshed; how was I to wipe the wounds?

Thra. Where are the others?

San. Plague on you, what others? Sannio is the only one left on guard at home.

Thra. (to Gnatho.) Do you draw up your men in battle order; I’ll be behind the second rank;97 from that position I’ll give the word to all.

Takes his place behind the second rank.

Gna. (aside.) That’s showing prudence; as soon as he has drawn them up, he secures a retreat for himself.

Thra. (pointing to the arrangements.) This is just the way Pyrrhus used to proceed.98

Chremes and Thais appear above at a window.

Chrem. Do you see, Thais, what plan he is upon? Assuredly, that advice of mine about closing the door was good.

Thais. He who now seems to you to be a hero, is in reality a mere vaporer; don’t be alarmed.

Thra. (to Gnatho.) What seems best to you?

Gna. I could very much99 like a sling to be given you just now, that you might pelt them from here on the sly at a distance; they would be taking to flight.

Thra. (to Gnatho.) But look (pointing), I see Thais there herself.

Gna. How soon are we to fall to?

Thra. Hold (holding him back); it behooves a prudent person to make trial of every thing before arms. How do you know but that she may do what I bid her without compulsion?

Gna. Ye Gods, by our trust in you, what a thing it is to be wise! I never come near you but what I go away from you the wiser.

Thra. Thais, in the first place, answer me this. When I presented you that girl, did you not say that you would give yourself up to me alone for some days to come?

Thais. Well, what then?

Thra. Do you ask the question? You, who have been and brought your lover under my very eyes? What business had you with him? With him, too, you clandestinely betook yourself away from me.

Thais. I chose to do so.

Thra. Then give me back Pamphila; unless you had rather she were taken away by force.

Chrem. Give her back to you, or you lay hands upon her? Of all the—

Gna. Ha! What are you about? Hold your tongue.

Thra. What do you mean? Am I not to touch my own?

Chrem. Your own, indeed, you gallows-bird!100

Gna. (to Chremes.) Have a care, if you please. You don’t know what kind of man you are abusing now.

Chrem. (to Gnatho.) Won’t you be off from here? Do you know how matters stand with you? If you cause any disturbance here to-day, I’ll make you remember the place, and day, and me too, for the rest of your life.

Gna. I pity you, who are making so great a man as this your enemy.

Chrem. I’ll break your head this instant if you are not off.

Gna. Do you really say so, puppy? Is it that you are at?

Thra. (to Chremes.) What fellow are you? What do you mean? What business have you with her?

Chrem. I’ll let you know: in the first place, I assert that she is a freeborn woman.

Thra. (starting.) Ha!

Chrem. A citizen of Attica.

Thra. Whew!

Chrem. My own sister.

Thra. Brazen face!

Chrem. Now, therefore, Captain, I give you warning; don’t you use any violence toward her. Thais, I’m going to Sophrona, the nurse, that I may bring her here and show her these tokens.

Thra. What! Are you to prevent me from touching what’s my own?

Chrem. I will prevent it, I tell you.

Gna. (to Thraso.) Do you hear him? He is convicting himself of theft. Is not that enough for you?

Thra. Do you say the same, Thais?

Thais. Go, find some one to answer you.

She and Chremes go away from the window.

Thra. (to Gnatho.) What are we to do now?

Gna. Why, go back again: she’ll soon be with you, of her own accord, to entreat forgiveness.

Thra. Do you think so?

Gna. Certainly, yes. I know the disposition of women: when you will, they won’t; when you won’t, they set their hearts upon you of their own inclination.

Thra. You judge right.

Gna. Shall I dismiss the army then?

Thra. Whenever you like.

Gna. Sanga, as befits gallant soldiers,101 take care in your turn to remember your homes and hearths.

San. My thoughts have been for some time among the sauce-pans.

Gna. You are a worthy fellow.

Thra. (putting himself at their head.) You follow me this way.

Exeunt omnes.

Scene I.

Enter Thais from her house, followed by Pythias.

Thais. What! do you persist, hussy, in talking ambiguously to me? “I do know;” “I don’t know;” “he has gone off;” “I have heard;” “I wasn’t there.” Don’t you mean to tell me plainly, whatever it is? The girl in tears, with her garments torn, is mute; the Eunuch is off: for what reason? What has happened? Won’t you speak?

Pyth. Wretch that I am, what am I to say to you? They declare that he was not a Eunuch.

Thais. What was he then?

Pyth. That Chærea.

Thais. What Chærea?

Pyth. That stripling, the brother of Phædria.

Thais. What’s that you say, you hag?

Pyth. And I am satisfied of it.

Thais. Pray, what business had he at my house? What brought him there?

Pyth. I don’t know; unless, as I suppose, he was in love with Pamphila.

Thais. Alas! to my confusion, unhappy woman that I am, I’m undone, if what you tell me is true. Is it about this that the girl is crying?

Pyth. I believe so.

Thais. How say you, you arch-jade? Did I not warn you about this very thing, when I was going away from here?

Pyth. What could I do? Just as you ordered, she was intrusted to his care only.

Thais. Hussy, I’ve been intrusting the sheep to the wolf. I’m quite ashamed to have been imposed upon in this way. What sort of man was he?

Pyth. Hush! hush! mistress, pray; we are all right. Here we have the very man.

Thais. Where is he?

Pyth. Why there, to the left. Don’t you see?

Thais. I see.

Pyth. Order him to be seized as quickly as possible.

Thais. What can we do to him, simpleton?

Pyth. What do to him, do you ask? Pray, do look at him; if his face doesn’t seem an impudent one.

Thais. Not at all.

Pyth. Besides, what effrontery he has.

Scene II.

Enter Chærea, in the Eunuch’s dress, on the other side of the stage.

Chæ. (to himself.) At Antipho’s,102 both of them, father and mother, just as if on purpose, were at home, so that I couldn’t any way get in, but that they must have seen me. In the mean time, while I was standing before the door, a certain acquaintance of mine was coming full upon me. When I espied him, I took to my heels as fast as I could down a narrow unfrequented alley; thence again to another, and thence to another; thus have I been most dreadfully harassed with running about, that no one might recognize me. But isn’t this Thais that I see? It is she. I’m at a stand. What shall I do? But what need I care? What can she do to me?

Thais, (to Pythias.) Let’s accost him. (To Chærea.) Good Mister Dorus, welcome; tell me, have you been running away?

Chæ. Madam, I did so.

Thais. Are you quite pleased with it?

Chæ. No.

Thais. Do you fancy that you’ll get off with impunity?

Chæ. Forgive this one fault; if I’m ever guilty of another, then kill me.

Thais. Were you in fear of my severity?

Chæ. No.

Thais. No? What then?

Chæ. (pointing at Pythias.) I was afraid of her, lest she might be accusing me to you.

Thais. What had you done?

Chæ. A mere trifle.

Pyth. Come now, a trifle, you impudent fellow. Does this appear a trifle to you, to ravish a virgin, a citizen?

Chæ. I took her for my fellow-servant.

Pyth. Fellow-servant? I can hardly restrain myself from flying at his hair. A miscreant! Even of his own free will he comes to make fun of us.

Thais, (to Pythias.) Won’t you begone from here, you mad woman?

Pyth. Why so? Really, I do believe I should be something in this hang-dog’s debt, if I were to do so; especially as he owns that he is your servant.

Thais. We’ll pass that by. Chærea, you have behaved unworthily of yourself; for if I am deserving in the highest degree of this affront, still it is unbecoming of you to be guilty of it. And, upon my faith, I do not know what method now to adopt about this girl: you have so confounded all my plans, that I can not possibly return her to her friends in such a manner as is befitting and as I had intended; in order that, by this means, I might, Chærea, do a real service to myself.

Chæ. But now, from henceforth, I hope, Thais, that there will be lasting good-will between us. Many a time, from some affair of this kind and from a bad beginning, great friendships have sprung up. What if some Divinity has willed this?

Thais. I’faith, for my own part I both take it in that view and wish to do so.

Chæ. Yes, prithee, do so. Be sure of this one thing, that I did not do it for the sake of affronting you, but in consequence of passion.

Thais. I understand, and, i’faith, for that reason do I now the more readily forgive you. I am not, Chærea, of a disposition so ungentle, or so inexperienced, as not to know what is the power of love.

Chæ. So may the Deities kindly bless me, Thais; I am now smitten with you as well.

Pyth. Then, i’faith, mistress, I foresee you must have a care of him.

Chæ. I would not dare—

Pyth. I won’t trust you at all in any thing.

Thais, (to Pythias.) Do have done.

Chæ. Now I entreat you that you will be my assistant in this affair. I intrust and commit myself to your care; I take you, Thais, as my protectress; I implore you; I shall die if I don’t have her for my wife.

Thais. But if your father should say any thing—

Chæ. Oh, he’ll consent, I’m quite sure of that, if she is only a citizen.

Thais. If you will wait a little, the brother himself of the young woman will be here presently; he has gone to fetch the nurse, who brought her up when a little child; you yourself, shall be present Chærea, at his recognition of her.

Chæ. I certainly will stay.

Thais. In the mean time, until he comes, would you prefer that we should wait for him in the house, rather than here before the door?

Chæ. Why yes, I should like it much.

Pyth. (to Thais.) Prithee, what are you going to do?

Thais. Why, what’s the matter?

Pyth. Do you ask? Do you think of admitting him after this into your house?

Thais. Why not?

Pyth. Trust my word for it, he’ll be creating some new disturbance.

Thais. O dear, prithee, do hold your tongue.

Pyth. You seem to me to be far from sensible of his assurance.

Chæ. I’ll not do any thing, Pythias.

Pyth. Upon my faith, I don’t believe you, Chærea, except in case you are not trusted.

Chæ. Nay but, Pythias, do you be my keeper.

Pyth. Upon my faith, I would neither venture to give any thing to you to keep, nor to keep you myself: away with you!

Thais. Most opportunely the brother himself is coming.

Chæ. I’faith, I’m undone. Prithee, let’s be gone in-doors, Thais. I don’t want him to see me in the street with this dress on.

Thais. For what reason, pray? Because you are ashamed?

Chæ. Just so.

Pyth. Just so? But the young woman——

Thais. Go first; I’ll follow. You stay here, Pythias, that you may show Chremes in.

Thais and Chærea go into the house.

Scene III.

Enter Chremes and Sophrona.

Pyth. (to herself.) Well! what now can suggest itself to my mind? What, I wonder, in order that I may repay the favor to that villain who palmed this fellow off upon us?

Chrem. Really, do bestir yourself more quickly, nurse.

Soph. I am bestirring.

Chrem. So I see; but you don’t stir forward.

Pyth. (to Chremes.) Have you yet shown the tokens to the nurse?

Chrem. All of them.

Pyth. Prithee, what does she say? Does she recognize them?

Chrem. Yes, with a full recollection of them.

Pyth. Upon my faith, you do bring good news; for I really wish well to this young woman. Go in-doors: my mistress has been for some time expecting you at home. (Chremes and Sophrona go into Thais’s house.) But look, yonder I espy that worthy fellow, Parmeno, coming: just see, for heaven’s sake, how leisurely he moves along. I hope I have it in my power to torment him after my own fashion. I’ll go in-doors, that I may know for certain about the discovery; afterward I’ll come out, and give this villain a terrible fright.

Goes into the house.

Scene IV.

Enter Parmeno.

Par. (to himself.) I’ve just come back to see what Chærea has been doing here. If he has managed the affair with dexterity, ye Gods, by our trust in you, how great and genuine applause will Parmeno obtain! For not to mention that a passion, full of difficulty and expense, with which he was smitten for a virgin, belonging to an extortionate courtesan, I’ve found means of satisfying for him, without molestation, without outlay, and without cost; then, this other point—that is really a thing that I consider my crowning merit, to have found out the way by which a young man may be enabled to learn the dispositions and manners of courtesans, so that by knowing them betimes, he may detest them ever after. (Pythias enters from the house unperceived.) For while they are out of doors, nothing seems more cleanly, nothing more neat or more elegant; and when they dine with a gallant, they pick daintily about:103 to see the filth, the dirtiness, the neediness of these women; how sluttish they are when at home, and how greedy after victuals; in what a fashion they devour the black bread with yesterday’s broth:—to know all this, is salvation to a young man.

Scene V.

Enter Pythias from the house.

Pyth. (apart, unseen by Parmeno.) Upon my faith, you villain, I’ll take vengeance upon you for these sayings and doings; so that you sha’n’t make sport of us with impunity. (Aloud, coming forward.) O, by our trust in the Gods, what a disgraceful action! O hapless young man! O wicked Parmeno, to have brought him here!

Par. What’s the matter?

Pyth. I do pity him; and so that I mightn’t see it, wretched creature that I am, I hurried away out of doors. What a dreadful example they talk of making him!

Par. O Jupiter! What is this tumult? Am I then undone? I’ll accost her. What’s all this, Pythias? What are you saying? An example made of whom?

Pyth. Do you ask the question, you most audacious fellow? You’ve proved the ruin of the young man whom you brought hither for the Eunuch, while you were trying to put a trick upon us.

Par. How so, or what has happened? Tell me.

Pyth. I’ll tell you: that young woman who was to-day made a present to Thais, are you aware that she is a citizen of this place, and that her brother is a person of very high rank?

Par. I didn’t know that.

Pyth. But so she has been discovered to be; he, unfortunate youth, has ravished her. When the brother came to know of this being done, in a most towering rage, he——

Par. Did what, pray?

Pyth. First, bound him in a shocking manner.

Par. Bound him?

Pyth. And even though Thais entreated him that he wouldn’t do so——

Par. What is it you tell me?

Pyth. Now he is threatening that he will also do that which is usually done to ravishers; a thing that I never saw done, nor wish to.

Par. With what assurance does he dare perpetrate a crime so heinous?

Pyth. How “so heinous?”

Par. Is it not most heinous? Who ever saw any one taken up as a ravisher in a courtesan’s house?

Pyth. I don’t know.

Par. But that you mayn’t be ignorant of this, Pythias, I tell you, and give you notice that he is my master’s son.

Pyth. How! Prithee, is it he?

Par. Don’t let Thais suffer any violence to be done to him. But why don’t I go in myself?

Pyth. Take care, Parmeno, what you are about, lest you both do him no good and come to harm yourself; for it is their notion, that whatever has happened, has originated in you.

Par. What then, wretch that I am, shall I do, or how resolve? But look, I see the old gentleman returning from the country; shall I tell him or shall I not? By my troth, I will tell him; although I am certain that a heavy punishment is in readiness for me; but it’s a matter of necessity, in order that he may rescue him.

Pyth. You are wise. I’m going in-doors; do you relate to him every thing exactly as it happened.

Goes into the house.

Scene VI.

Enter Laches.

Lach. (to himself.) I have this advantage104 from my country-house being so near at hand; no weariness, either of country or of town, ever takes possession of me; when satiety begins to come on, I change my locality. But is not that our Parmeno? Surely it is he. Whom are you waiting for, Parmeno, before the door here?

Par. (pretends not to see him.) Who is it? (Turning round.) Oh, I’m glad that you have returned safe.

Lach. Whom are you waiting for?

Par. (aside.) I’m undone: my tongue cleaves to my mouth through fright.

Lach. Why, what is it you are trembling about? Is all quite right? Tell me.

Par. Master, in the first place, I would have you persuaded of what is the fact; whatever has happened in this affair has happened through no fault of mine.

Lach. What is it?

Par. Really you have reason to ask. I ought first to have told you the circumstances. Phædria purchased a certain Eunuch, to make a present of to this woman here.

Lach. To what woman?

Par. To Thais.

Lach. Bought? Good heavens, I’m undone! For how much?

Par. Twenty minæ.

Lach. Done for, quite.

Par. Then, Chærea is in love with a certain music-girl here. (Pointing to Thais’s house.)

Lach. How! What? In love? Does he know already what a courtesan means? Is he come to town? One misfortune close upon another.

Par. Master, don’t look so at me; he didn’t do these things by my encouragement.

Lach. Leave off talking about yourself. If I live, you hang-dog, I’ll——But first give me an account of it, whatever it is.

Par. He was taken to the house of Thais in place of the Eunuch.

Lach. In place of the Eunuch?

Par. Such is the fact. They have since apprehended him in the house as a ravisher, and bound him.

Lach. Death!

Par. Mark the assurance of courtesans.

Lach. Is there any other calamity or misfortune besides, that you have not told me of?

Par. That’s all.

Lach. Do I delay rushing in here?

Runs into the house of Thais.

Par. (to himself.) There’s no doubt but that I shall have a heavy punishment for this affair, only that I was obliged to act thus. I’m glad of this, that some mischief will befall these women here through my agency, for the old man has, for a long time, been on the look-out for some occasion105 to do them a bad turn; at last he has found it.

Scene VII.

Enter Pythias from the house of Thais, laughing.

Pyth. (to herself, on entering.) Never, upon my faith, for a long time past, has any thing happened to me that I could have better liked to happen, than the old gentleman just now, full of his mistake, coming into our house. I had the joke all to myself, as I knew106 what it was he feared.

Par. (apart). Why, what’s all this?

Pyth. Now I’m come out to meet with Parmeno. But, prithee, where is he? (Looking around.)

Par. (apart.) She’s looking for me.

Pyth. And there he is, I see; I’ll go up to him.

Par. What’s the matter, simpleton? What do you mean? What are you laughing about? Still going on?

Pyth. (laughing.) I’m dying; I’m wretchedly tired with laughing at you.

Par. Why so?

Pyth. Do you ask? Upon my faith, I never did see, nor shall see, a more silly fellow. Oh dear, I can not well express what amusement you’ve afforded in-doors. And still I formerly took you to be a clever and shrewd person. Why, was there any need for you instantly to believe what I told you? Or were you not content with the crime, which by your advice the young man had been guilty of, without betraying the poor fellow to his father as well? Why, what do you suppose his feelings must have been at the moment when his father saw him clothed in that dress? Well, do you now understand that you are done for? (Laughing.)

Par. Hah! what is it you say, you hussy? Have you been telling me lies? What, laughing still? Does it appear so delightful to you, you jade, to be making fools of us?

Pyth. (laughing.) Very much so.

Par. Yes, indeed, if you can do it with impunity.

Pyth. Exactly so.

Par. By heavens, I’ll repay you!

Pyth. I believe you; but, perhaps, that which you are threatening, Parmeno, will need a future day; you’ll be trussed up directly, for rendering a silly young man remarkable for disgraceful conduct, and then betraying him to his father; they’ll both be making an example of you. (Laughing.)

Par. I’m done for!

Pyth. This reward has been found you in return for that present of yours;107 I’m off.

Goes into the house.

Par. (to himself.) Wretch that I am; just like a rat, this day I’ve come to destruction through betrayal of myself.108

Scene VIII.

Enter Thraso and Gnatho.

Gna. (to Thraso.) Well now? With what hope, or what design, are we come hither? What do you intend to do, Thraso?

Thra. What, I? To surrender myself to Thais, and do what she bids me.

Gna. What is it you say?

Thra. Why any the less so, than Hercules served Omphale.109

Gna. The precedent pleases me. (Aside.) I only wish I may see your head stroked down with a slipper;110 but her door makes a noise.

Thra. Confusion! Why, what mischief’s this? I never saw this person before; why, I wonder, is he rushing out in such a hurry?

They stand aside.

Scene IX.

Enter Chærea from the house of Thais, on the other side of the stage.

Chæ. (to himself, aloud.) O fellow-townsmen, is there any one alive more fortunate than me this day? Not any one, upon my faith: for clearly in me have the Gods manifested all their power, on whom, thus suddenly, so many blessings are bestowed.

Par. (apart.) Why is he thus overjoyed?

Chæ. (seeing Parmeno, and running up to him.) O my dear Parmeno, the contriver, the beginner, the perfecter of all my delights, do you know what are my transports? Are you aware that my Pamphila has been discovered to be a citizen?

Par. I have heard so.

Chæ. Do you know that she is betrothed to me?

Par. So may the Gods bless me, happily done.

Gna. (apart to Thraso.) Do you hear what he says?

Chæ. And then, besides, I am delighted that my brother’s mistress is secured to him; the family is united. Thais has committed herself to the patronage of my father;111 she has put herself under our care and protection.

Par. Thais, then, is wholly your brother’s.

Chæ. Of course.

Par. Then this is another reason for us to rejoice, that the Captain will be beaten out of doors.

Chæ. Wherever my brother is, do you take care that he hears this as soon as possible.

Par. I’ll go look for him at home.

Goes into the house of Laches.

Thra. (apart to Gnatho.) Do you at all doubt, Gnatho, but that I am now ruined everlastingly?

Gna. (to Thraso.) Without doubt, I do think so.

Chæ. (to himself.) What am I to make mention of first, or commend in especial? Him who gave me the advice to do so, or myself, who ventured to undertake it? Or ought I to extol fortune, who has been my guide, and has so opportunely crowded into a single day events so numerous, so important; or my father’s kindness and indulgence? Oh Jupiter, I entreat you, do preserve these blessings unto us!

Scene X.

Enter Phædria from the house of Laches.

Phæd. (to himself.) Ye Gods, by our trust in you, what incredible things has Parmeno just related to me! But where is my brother?

Chæ. (stepping forward.) Here he is.

Phæd. I’m overjoyed.

Chæ. I quite believe you. There is no one, brother, more worthy to be loved than this Thais of yours: so much is she a benefactress to all our family.

Phæd. Whew! are you commending her too to me?

Thra. (apart.) I’m undone; the less the hope I have, the more I am in love. Prithee, Gnatho, my hope is in you.

Gna. (apart.) What do you wish me to do?

Thra. (apart.) Bring this about, by entreaties or with money, that I may at least share Thais’s favors in some degree.

Gna. (apart.) It’s a hard task.

Thra. (apart.) If you set your mind on any thing, I know you well. If you manage this, ask me for any present you like as your reward; you shall have what you ask.

Gna. (apart.) Is it so?

Thra. (apart.) It shall be so.

Gna. (apart.) If I manage this, I ask that your house, whether you are present or absent, may be open to me; that, without invitation, there may always be a place for me.

Thra. (apart.) I pledge my honor that it shall be so.

Gna. (apart.) I’ll set about it then.

Phæd. Who is it I hear so close at hand? (Turning round.) O Thraso—

Thra. (coming forward.) Save you both—

Phæd. Perhaps you are not aware what has taken place here.

Thra. I am quite aware.

Phæd. Why, then, do I see you in this neighborhood?

Thra. Depending on your kindness.

Phæd. Do you know what sort of dependence you have? Captain, I give you notice, if ever I catch you in this street again, even if you should say to me, “I was looking for another person, I was on my road this way,” you are undone.

Gna. Come, come, that’s not handsome.

Phæd. I’ve said it.

Gna. I didn’t know you gave yourself such airs.

Phæd. So it shall be.

Gna. First hear a few words from me; and when I have said the thing, if you approve of it, do it.

Phæd. Let’s hear.

Gna. Do you step a little that way, Thraso. (Thraso stands aside.) In the first place, I wish you both implicitly to believe me in this, that whatever I do in this matter, I do it entirely for my own sake; but if the same thing is of advantage to yourselves, it would be folly for you not to do it.

Phæd. What is it?

Gna. I’m of opinion that the Captain, your rival, should be received among you.

Phæd. (starting.) Hah!

Chæ. Be received?

Gna. (to Phædria.) Only consider. I’faith, Phaedria, at the free rate you are living with her, and indeed very freely you are living, you have but little to give; and it’s necessary for Thais to receive a good deal. That all this may be supplied for your amour and not at your own expense, there is not an individual better suited or more fitted for your purpose than the Captain. In the first place, he both has got enough to give, and no one does give more profusely. He is a fool, a dolt, a blockhead; night and day he snores away; and you need not fear that the lady will fall in love with him; you may easily have him discarded whenever you please.

Chæ. (to Phædria.) What shall we do?

Gna. And this besides, which I deem to be of even greater importance,—not a single person entertains in better style or more bountifully.

Chæ. It’s a wonder if this sort of man can not be made use of in some way or other.

Phæd. I think so too.

Gna. You act properly. One thing I have still to beg of you,—that you’ll receive me into your fraternity; I’ve been rolling that stone112 for a considerable time past.

Phæd. We admit you.

Chæ. And with all my heart.

Gna. Then I, in return for this, Phaedria, and you, Chaerea, make him over to you113 to be eaten and drunk to the dregs.

Chæ. Agreed.

Phæd. He quite deserves it.114

Gna. (calling to Thraso.) Thraso, whenever you please, step this way.

Thra. Prithee, how goes it?

Gna. How? Why, these people didn’t know you; after I had discovered to them your qualities, and had praised you as your actions and your virtues deserved, I prevailed upon them.

Thra. You have managed well; I give you my best thanks. Besides, I never was any where but what all were extremely fond of me.

Gna. (to Phædria and Chærea.) Didn’t I tell you that he was a master of the Attic elegance?

Phæd. He is no other than you mentioned. (Pointing to his Father’s house.) Walk this way. (To the Audience.) Fare you well, and grant us your applause.

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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Chremes,1 an old gentleman, living in the country. Menedemus,2 an old gentleman, his neighbor. Clinia,3 son of Menedemus. Clitipho,4 son of Chremes. Dromo,5 son of Clinia. Syrus,6 servant of Clitipho.

Sostrata,7 wife of Chremes. Antiphila,8 a young woman beloved by Clinia. Bacchis,9 a Courtesan, the mistress of Clitipho. The Nurse of Antiphila. Phrygia,10 maid-servant to Bacchis.

Scene.—In the country, near Athens; before the houses of Chremes and Menedemus.

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Chremes commands his wife, when pregnant, if she is delivered of a girl immediately to kill the child. Having given birth to a girl, Sostrata delivers her to an old woman named Philtera to be exposed. Instead of doing this, Philtera calls her Antiphila, and brings her up as her own. Clinia, the son of Menedemus, falls in love with her, and treats her as though his wife. Menedemus, on learning this, is very angry, and by his harsh language drives away his son from home. Taking this to heart, and in order to punish himself for his ill-timed severity, Menedemus, though now an aged man, fatigues himself by laboring at agricultural pursuits from morning till night. At the period when the Play commences, Clinia has just returned to Attica, but not daring to go to his father’s house, is entertained by Clitipho, the son of Chremes, who is the neighbor of Menedemus. Clitipho then sends for Antiphila, whose supposed mother has recently died, to come and meet her lover. On the same day, Chremes learns from Menedemus how anxious he is for his son’s return; and on hearing from his son of the arrival of Clinia, he defers informing Menedemus of it until the next day. Syrus, the servant who has been sent to fetch Antiphila, also brings with him Bacchis, an extravagant Courtesan, the mistress of Clitipho. To conceal the truth from Chremes, they represent to him that Bacchis is the mistress of Clinia, and that Antiphila is one of her maids. Next morning Chremes informs Menedemus of his son’s arrival, and of the extravagant conduct of his mistress, but begs that he will conceal from Clinia his knowledge of this fact. Bacchis requiring ten minæ, Syrus devises a plan for obtaining the money from Chremes, while the latter is encouraging him to think of a project against Menedemus. Syrus tells him a story, that the mother of Antiphila had borrowed a thousand drachmæ of Bacchis, and being dead, the girl is left in her hands as a pledge for the money. While these things are going on, Sostrata discovers in Antiphila her own daughter. In order to obtain the money which Bacchis persists in demanding, Syrus suggests to Chremes that it should be represented to Menedemus that Bacchis is the mistress of Clitipho, and that he should be requested to conceal her in his house for a few days; it is also arranged that Clinia shall pretend to his father to be in love with Antiphila, and to beg her as his wife. He is then to ask for money, as though for the wedding, which is to be handed over to Bacchis. Chremes does not at first approve of the plan suggested by Syrus; but he pays down the money for which he has been informed his daughter is a pledge in the hands of Bacchis. This, with his knowledge, is given to Clitipho, who, as Syrus says, is to convey it to Bacchis, who is now in the house of Menedemus, to make the latter more readily believe that she is his mistress. Shortly after this, the plot is discovered by Chremes, who threatens to punish Clitipho and Syrus. The Play concludes with Chremes giving his consent to the marriage of Clinia with Antiphila, and pardoning Clitipho, who promises to abandon the Courtesan, and marry. Unlike the other Plays of Terence and Plautus, the Plot of this Play extends over two days.

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It is from the Greek of Menander. Performed at the Megalensian Games; Lucius Cornelius Lentulus and Lucius Valerius Flaccus being Curule Ædiles. Ambivius Turpio performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius, composed the music. The first time it was performed to the music of treble and bass flutes; the second time, of two treble flutes. It was acted three times; Marcus Juventius and Titus Sempronius being Consuls.11

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THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.

A severe father compels his son Clinia, in love with Antiphila, to go abroad to the wars; and repenting of what has been done, torments himself in mind. Afterward, when he has returned, unknown to his father, he is entertained at the house of Clitipho. The latter is in love with Bacchis, a Courtesan. When Clinia sends for his much-loved Antiphila, Bacchis comes, as though his mistress, and Antiphila, wearing the garb of her servant; this is done in order that Clitipho may conceal it from his father. He, through the stratagems of Syrus, gets ten minæ from the old man for the Courtesan. Antiphila is discovered to be the sister of Clitipho. Clinia receives her, and Clitipho, another woman, for his wife.

Lest it should be a matter of surprise to any one of you, why the Poet has assigned to an old man12 a part that belongs to the young, that I will first explain to you;13 and then, the reason for my coming I will disclose. An entire Play from an entire Greek one,14 the Heautontimorumenos, I am to-day about to represent, which from a two-fold plot15 has been made but one. I have shown that it is new, and what it is: next I would mention who it was that wrote it, and whose in Greek it is, if I did not think that the greater part of you are aware. Now, for what reason I have learned this part, in a few words I will explain. The Poet intended me to be a Pleader,16 not the Speaker of a Prologue; your decision he asks, and has appointed me the advocate; if this advocate can avail as much by his oral powers as he has excelled in inventing happily, who composed this speech which I am about to recite. For as to malevolent rumors spreading abroad that he has mixed together many Greek Plays while writing a few Latin ones, he does not deny that this is the case, and that he does not repent of so doing; and he affirms that he will do so again. He has the example of good Poets; after which example he thinks it is allowable for him to do what they have done. Then, as to a malevolent old Poet17 saying that he has suddenly applied himself to dramatic pursuits, relying on the genius of his friends,18 and not his own natural abilities; on that your judgment, your opinion, will prevail. Wherefore I do entreat you all, that the suggestions of our antagonists may not avail more than those of our favorers. Do you be favorable; grant the means of prospering to those who afford you the means of being spectators of new Plays; those, I mean, without faults: that he may not suppose this said in his behalf who lately made the public give way to a slave as he ran along in the street;19 why should he take a madman’s part? About his faults he will say more when he brings out some other new ones, unless he puts an end to his caviling. Attend with favorable feelings; grant me the opportunity that I may be allowed to act a quiet Play20 in silence; that the servant everlastingly running about, the angry old man, the gluttonous parasite, the impudent sharper, and the greedy procurer, may not have always to be performed by me with the utmost expense of voice, and the greatest exertion. For my sake come to the conclusion that this request is fair, that so some portion of my labor may be abridged. For nowadays, those who write new Plays do not spare an aged man. If there is any piece requiring exertion, they come running to me; but if it is a light one, it is taken to another Company. In the present one the style is pure. Do you make proof, what, in each character,21 my ability can effect. If I have never greedily set a high price upon my skill, and have come to the conclusion that this is my greatest gain, as far as possible to be subservient to your convenience, establish in me a precedent, that the young may be anxious rather to please you than themselves.

Scene I.

Enter Chremes, and Menedemus with a spade in his hand, who falls to digging.

Chrem. Although this acquaintanceship between us is of very recent date, from the time in fact of your purchasing an estate here in the neighborhood, yet either your good qualities, or our being neighbors (which I take to be a sort of friendship), induces me to inform you, frankly and familiarly, that you appear to me to labor beyond your years, and beyond what your affairs require. For, in the name of Gods and men, what would you have? What can be your aim? You are, as I conjecture, sixty years of age, or more. No man in these parts has a better or a more valuable estate, no one more servants; and yet you discharge their duties just as diligently as if there were none at all. However early in the morning I go out, and however late in the evening I return home, I see you either digging, or plowing, or doing something, in fact, in the fields. You take respite not an instant, and are quite regardless of yourself. I am very sure that this is not done for your amusement. But really I am vexed how little work is done here.22 If you were to employ the time you spend in laboring yourself, in keeping your servants at work, you would profit much more.

Men. Have you so much leisure, Chremes, from your own affairs, that you can attend to those of others—those which don’t concern you?

Chrem. I am a man,23 and nothing that concerns a man do I deem a matter of indifference to me. Suppose that I wish either to advise you in this matter, or to be informed myself: if what you do is right, that I may do the same; if it is not, then that I may dissuade you.

Men. It’s requisite for me to do so; do you as it is necessary for you to do.

Chrem. Is it requisite for any person to torment himself?

Men. It is for me.

Chrem. If you have any affliction, I could wish it otherwise. But prithee, what sorrow is this of yours? How have you deserved so ill of yourself?

Men. Alas! alas! (He begins to weep.)

Chrem. Do not weep, but make me acquainted with it, whatever it is. Do not be reserved; fear nothing; trust me, I tell you. Either by consolation, or by counsel, or by any means, I will aid you.

Men. Do you wish to know this matter?

Chrem. Yes, and for the reason I mentioned to you.

Men. I will tell you.

Chrem. But still, in the mean time, lay down that rake; don’t fatigue yourself.

Men. By no means.

Chrem. What can be your object? (Tries to take the rake from him.)

Men. Do leave me alone, that I may give myself no respite from my labor.

Chrem. I will not allow it, I tell you. (Taking the rake from him.)

Men. Ah! that’s not fair.

Chrem. (poising the rake.) Whew! such a heavy one as this, pray!

Men. Such are my deserts.

Chrem. Now speak. (Laying down the rake.)

Men. I have an only son,—a young man,—alas! why did I say—“I have?”—rather I should say, “I had” one, Chremes:—whether I have him now, or not, is uncertain.

Chrem. Why so?

Men. You shall know:—There is a poor old woman here, a stranger from Corinth:—her daughter, a young woman, he fell in love with, insomuch that he almost regarded her as his wife; all this took place unknown to me. When I discovered the matter, I began to reprove him, not with gentleness, nor in the way suited to the love-sick mind of a youth, but with violence, and after the usual method of fathers. I was daily reproaching him,—“Look you, do you expect to be allowed any longer to act thus, myself, your father, being alive; to be keeping a mistress pretty much as though your wife? You are mistaken, Clinia, and you don’t know me, if you fancy that. I am willing that you should be called my son, just as long as you do what becomes you; but if you do not do so, I shall find out how it becomes me to act toward you. This arises from nothing, in fact, but too much idleness. At your time of life, I did not devote my time to dalliance, but, in consequence of my poverty, departed hence for Asia, and there acquired in arms both riches and military glory.” At length the matter came to this,—the youth, from hearing the same things so often, and with such severity, was overcome. He supposed that I, through age and affection, had more judgment and foresight for him than himself. He went off to Asia, Chremes, to serve under the king.

Chrem. What is it you say?

Men. He departed without my knowledge—and has been gone these three months.

Chrem. Both are to be blamed—although I still think this step shows an ingenuous and enterprising disposition.

Men. When I learned this from those who were in the secret, I returned home sad, and with feelings almost overwhelmed and distracted through grief. I sit down; my servants run to me; they take off my shoes:24 then some make all haste to spread the couches,25 and to prepare a repast; each according to his ability did zealously what he could, in order to alleviate my sorrow. When I observed this, I began to reflect thus:—“What! are so many persons anxious for my sake alone, to pleasure myself only? Are so many female servants to provide me with dress?26 Shall I alone keep up such an expensive establishment, while my only son, who ought equally, or even more so, to enjoy these things—inasmuch as his age is better suited for the enjoyment of them—him, poor youth, have I driven away from home by my severity! Were I to do this, really I should deem myself deserving of any calamity. But so long as he leads this life of penury, banished from his country through my severity, I will revenge his wrongs upon myself, toiling, making money, saving, and laying up for him.” At once I set about it; I left nothing in the house, neither movables27 nor clothing; every thing I scraped together. Slaves, male and female, except those who could easily pay for their keep by working in the country, all of them I set up to auction and sold. I at once put up a bill to sell my house.28 I collected somewhere about fifteen talents, and purchased this farm; here I fatigue myself. I have come to this conclusion, Chremes, that I do my son a less injury, while I am unhappy; and that it is not right for me to enjoy any pleasure here, until such time as he returns home safe to share it with me.

Chrem. I believe you to be of an affectionate disposition toward your children,29 and him to be an obedient son, if one were to manage him rightly or prudently. But neither did you understand him sufficiently well, nor he you—a thing that happens where persons don’t live on terms of frankness together. You never showed him how highly you valued him, nor did he ever dare put that confidence in you which is due to a father. Had this been done, these troubles would never have befallen you.

Men. Such is the fact, I confess; the greatest fault is on my side.

Chrem. But still, Menedemus, I hope for the best, and I trust that he’ll be here safe before long.

Men. Oh that the Gods would grant it!

Chrem. They will do so. Now, if it is convenient to you—the festival of Bacchus30 is being kept here to-day—I wish you to give me your company.

Men. I can not.

Chrem. Why not? Do, pray, spare yourself a little while. Your absent son would wish you do so.

Men. It is not right that I, who have driven him hence to endure hardships, should now shun them myself.

Chrem. Is such your determination?

Men. It is.

Chrem. Then kindly fare you well.

Men. And you the same.

Goes into his house.

Scene II.

Chremes, alone.

Chrem. (to himself.) He has forced tears from me, and I do pity him. But as the day is far gone, I must remind Phania, this neighbor of mine, to come to dinner. I’ll go see whether he is at home. (Goes to Phania’s door, makes the inquiry, and returns.) There was no occasion for me to remind him: they tell me he has been some time already at my house; it’s I myself am making my guests wait. I’ll go in-doors immediately. But what means the noise at the door of my house? I wonder who’s coming out! I’ll step aside here.

He stands aside.

Scene III.

Enter Clitipho, from the house of Chremes.

Clit. (at the door, to Clinia within.) There is nothing, Clinia, for you to fear as yet: they have not been long by any means: and I am sure that she will be with you presently along with the messenger. Do at once dismiss these causeless apprehensions which are tormenting you.

Chrem. (apart.) Who is my son talking to?

Makes his appearance.

Clit. (to himself.) Here comes my father, whom I wished to see: I’ll accost him. Father, you have met me opportunely.

Chrem. What is the matter?

Clit. Do you know this neighbor of ours, Menedemus?

Chrem. Very well.

Clit. Do you know that he has a son?

Chrem. I have heard that he has; in Asia.

Clit. He is not in Asia, father; he is at our house.

Chrem. What is it you say?

Clit. Upon his arrival, after he had just landed from the ship, I immediately brought him to dine with us; for from our very childhood upward I have always been on intimate terms with him.

Chrem. You announce to me a great pleasure. How much I wish that Menedemus had accepted my invitation to make one of us: that at my house I might have been the first to surprise him, when not expecting it, with this delight!—and even yet there’s time enough——

Clit. Take care what you do; there is no necessity, father, for doing so.

Chrem. For what reason?

Clit. Why, because he is as yet undetermined what to do with himself. He is but just arrived. He fears every thing; his father’s displeasure, and how his mistress may be disposed toward him. He loves her to distraction: on her account, this trouble and going abroad took place.

Chrem. I know it.

Clit. He has just sent a servant into the city to her, and I ordered our Syrus to go with him.

Chrem. What does Clinia say?

Clit. What does he say? That he is wretched.

Chrem. Wretched? Whom could we less suppose so? What is there wanting for him to enjoy every thing that among men, in fact, are esteemed as blessings? Parents, a country in prosperity, friends, family, relations, riches? And yet, all these are just according to the disposition of him who possesses them. To him who knows how to use them, they are blessings; to him who does not use them rightly, they are evils.

Clit. Aye, but he always was a morose old man; and now I dread nothing more, father, than that in his displeasure he’ll be doing something to him more than is justifiable.

Chrem. What, he? (Aside.) But I’ll restrain myself; for that the other one should be in fear of his father is of service to him.31

Clit. What is it you are saying to yourself!

Chrem. I’ll tell you. However the case stood, Clinia ought still to have remained at home. Perhaps his father was a little stricter than he liked: he should have put up with it. For whom ought he to bear with, if he would not bear with his own father? Was it reasonable that he should live after his son’s humor, or his son after his? And as to charging him with harshness, it is not the fact. For the severities of fathers are generally of one character, those I mean who are in some degree reasonable men.32 They do not wish their sons to be always wenching; they do not wish them to be always carousing; they give a limited allowance; and yet all this tends to virtuous conduct. But when the mind, Clitipho, has once enslaved itself by vicious appetites, it must of necessity follow similar pursuits. This is a wise maxim, “to take warning from others of what may be to your own advantage.”

Clit. I believe so.

Chrem. I’ll now go hence in-doors, to see what we have for dinner. Do you, seeing what is the time of day, mind and take care not to be any where out of the way.

Goes into his house, and exit Clitipho.

Scene I.

Enter Clitipho.

Clit. (to himself.) What partial judges are all fathers in regard to all of us young men, in thinking it reasonable for us to become old men all at once from boys, and not to participate in those things which youth is naturally inclined to. They regulate us by their own desires,—such as they now are,—not as they once were. If ever I have a son, he certainly shall find in me an indulgent father. For the means both of knowing and of pardoning33 his faults shall be found by me; not like mine, who by means of another person, discloses to me his own sentiments. I’m plagued to death,—when he drinks a little more than usual, what pranks of his own he does relate to me! Now he says, “Take warning from others of what may be to your advantage.” How shrewd! He certainly does not know how deaf I am at the moment when he’s telling his stories. Just now, the words of my mistress make more impression upon me. “Give me this, and bring me that,” she cries; I have nothing to say to her in answer, and no one is there more wretched than myself. But this Clinia, although he, as well, has cares enough of his own, still has a mistress of virtuous and modest breeding, and a stranger to the arts of a courtesan. Mine is a craving, saucy, haughty, extravagant creature, full of lofty airs. Then all that I have to give her is—fair words34—for I make it a point not to tell her that I have nothing. This misfortune I met with not long since, nor does my father as yet know any thing of the matter.

Exit.

Scene II.

Enter Clinia from the house of Chremes.

Clin. (to himself.) If my love-affairs had been prosperous for me, I am sure she would have been here by this; but I’m afraid that the damsel has been led astray here in my absence. Many things combine to strengthen this opinion in my mind; opportunity, the place, her age, a worthless mother, under whose control she is, with whom nothing but gain is precious.

Enter Clitipho.

Clit. Clinia!

Clin. Alas! wretched me!

Clit. Do, pray, take care that no one coming out of your father’s house sees you here by accident.

Clin. I will do so; but really my mind presages I know not what misfortune.

Clit. Do you persist in making up your mind upon that, before you know what is the fact?

Clin. Had no misfortune happened, she would have been here by this.

Clit. She’ll be here presently.

Clin. When will that presently be?

Clit. You don’t consider that it is a great way from here.35 Besides, you know the ways of women, while they are bestirring themselves, and while they are making preparations a whole year passes by.

Clin. O Clitipho, I’m afraid—

Clit. Take courage. Look, here comes Dromo, together with Syrus: they are close at hand.

They stand aside.

Scene III.

Enter Syrus and Dromo, conversing at a distance.

Syr. Do you say so?

Dro. ’Tis as I told you,—but in the mean time, while we’ve been carrying on our discourse, these women have been left behind.

Clit. (apart.) Don’t you hear, Clinia? Your mistress is close at hand.

Clin. (apart.) Why yes, I do hear now at last, and I see and revive, Clitipho.

Dro. No wonder; they are so encumbered; they are bringing a troop of female attendants36 with them.

Clin. (apart.) I’m undone! Whence come these female attendants?

Clit. (apart.) Do you ask me?

Syr. We ought not to have left them; what a quantity of things they are bringing!

Clin. (apart.) Ah me!

Syr. Jewels of gold, and clothes; it’s growing late too, and they don’t know the way. It was very foolish of us to leave them. Just go back, Dromo, and meet them. Make haste—why do you delay?

Exit Dromo.

Clin. (apart.) Woe unto wretched me!—from what high hopes am I fallen!

Clit. (apart.) What’s the matter? Why, what is it that troubles you?

Clin. (apart.) Do you ask what it is? Why, don’t you see? Attendants, jewels of gold, and clothes, her too, whom I left here with only one little servant girl. Whence do you suppose that they come?

Clit. (apart.) Oh! now at last I understand you.

Syr. (to himself.) Good Gods! what a multitude there is! Our house will hardly hold them, I’m sure. How much they will eat! how much they will drink! what will there be more wretched than our old gentleman? (Catching sight of Clinia and Clitipho.) But look, I espy the persons I was wanting.

Clin. (apart.) Oh Jupiter! Why, where is fidelity gone? While I, distractedly wandering, have abandoned my country for your sake, you, in the mean time, Antiphila, have been enriching yourself, and have forsaken me in these troubles, you for whose sake I am in extreme disgrace, and have been disobedient to my father; on whose account I am now ashamed and grieved, that he who used to lecture me about the manners of these women, advised me in vain, and was not able to wean me away from her:—which, however, I shall now do; whereas when it might have been advantageous to me to do so, I was unwilling. There is no being more wretched than I.

Syr. (to himself.) He certainly has been misled by our words which we have been speaking here. (Aloud.) Clinia, you imagine your mistress quite different from what she really is. For both her mode of life is the same, and her disposition toward you is the same as it always was; so far as we could form a judgment from the circumstances themselves.

Clin. How so, prithee? For nothing in the world could I rather wish for just now, than that I have suspected this without reason.

Syr. This, in the first place, then (that you may not be ignorant of any thing that concerns her); the old woman, who was formerly said to be her mother, was not so.—She is dead: this I overheard by accident from her, as we came along, while she was telling the other one.

Clit. Pray, who is the other one?

Syr. Stay; what I have begun I wish first to relate. Clitipho; I shall come to that afterward.

Clit. Make haste, then.

Syr. First of all, then, when we came to the house, Dromo knocked at the door; a certain old woman came out; when she opened the door, he directly rushed in; I followed; the old woman bolted the door, and returned to her wool. On this occasion might be known, Clinia, or else on none, in what pursuits she passed her life during your absence; when we thus came upon a female unexpectedly. For this circumstance then gave us an opportunity of judging of the course of her daily life; a thing which especially discovers what is the disposition of each individual. We found her industriously plying at the web; plainly clad in a mourning dress,37 on account of this old woman, I suppose, who was lately dead; without golden ornaments, dressed, besides, just like those who only dress for themselves, and patched up with no worthless woman’s trumpery.38 Her hair was loose, long, and thrown back negligently about her temples. (To Clinia.) Do you hold your peace.39

Clin. My dear Syrus, do not without cause throw me into ecstasies, I beseech you.

Syr. The old woman was spinning the woof:40 there was one little servant girl besides;—she was weaving41 together with them, covered with patched clothes, slovenly, and dirty with filthiness.

Clit. If this is true, Clinia, as I believe it is, who is there more fortunate than you? Do you mark this girl whom he speaks of, as dirty and drabbish? This, too, is a strong indication that the mistress is out of harm’s way, when her confidant is in such ill plight; for it is a rule with those who wish to gain access to the mistress, first to bribe the maid.

Clin. (to Syrus.) Go on, I beseech you; and beware of endeavoring to purchase favor by telling an untruth. What did she say, when you mentioned me?

Syr. When we told her that you had returned, and had requested her to come to you, the damsel instantly put away the web, and covered her face all over with tears; so that you might easily perceive that it really was caused by her affection for you.

Clin. So may the Deities bless me, I know not where I am for joy! I was so alarmed before.

Clit. But I was sure that there was no reason, Clinia. Come now, Syrus, tell me, in my turn, who this other lady is.

Syr. Your Bacchis, whom we are bringing.42

Clit. Ha! What! Bacchis? How now, you rascal! whither are you bringing her?

Syr. Whither am I bringing her? To our house, to be sure.

Clit. What! to my father’s?

Syr. To the very same.

Clit. Oh, the audacious impudence of the fellow!

Syr. Hark’ye, no great and memorable action is done without some risk.

Clit. Look now; are you seeking to gain credit for yourself, at the hazard of my character, you rascal, in a point, where, if you only make the slightest slip, I am ruined? What would you be doing with her?

Syr. But still—

Clit. Why “still?”

Syr. If you’ll give me leave, I’ll tell you.

Clin. Do give him leave.

Clit. I give him leave then.

Syr. This affair is now just as though when—

Clit. Plague on it, what roundabout story is he beginning to tell me?

Clin. Syrus, he says what’s right—do omit digressions; come to the point.

Syr. Really I can not hold my tongue. Clitipho, you are every way unjust, and can not possibly be endured.

Clin. Upon my faith, he ought to have a hearing. (To Clitipho.) Do be silent.

Syr. You wish to indulge in your amours; you wish to possess your mistress; you wish that to be procured wherewithal to make her presents; in getting this, you do not wish the risk to be your own. You are not wise to no purpose,—if indeed it is being wise to wish for that which can not happen. Either the one must be had with the other, or the one must be let alone with the other. Now, of these two alternatives, consider which one you would prefer; although this project which I have formed, I know to be both a wise and a safe one. For there is an opportunity for your mistress to be with you at your father’s house, without fear of a discovery; besides, by these self-same means, I shall find the money which you have promised her—to effect which, you have already made my ears deaf with entreating me. What would you have more?

Clit. If, indeed, this could be brought about—

Syr. If, indeed? You shall know it by experience.

Clit. Well, well, disclose this project of yours. What is it?

Syr. We will pretend that your mistress is his (pointing to Clinia).

Clit. Very fine! Tell me, what is he to do with his own? Is she, too, to be called his, as if one was not a sufficient discredit?

Syr. No—she shall be taken to your mother.

Clit. Why there?

Syr. It would be tedious, Clitipho, if I were to tell you why I do so; I have a good reason.

Clit. Stuff! I see no grounds sufficiently solid why it should be for my advantage to incur this risk.43 (Turning as if going.)

Syr. Stay; if there is this risk, I have another project, which you must both confess to be free from danger.

Clit. Find out something of that description, I beseech you.

Syr. By all means; I’ll go meet her, and tell her to return home.

Clit. Ha! what was it you said?

Syr. I’ll rid you at once of all fears, so that you may sleep at your ease upon either ear.44

Clit. What am I to do now?

Clin. What are you to do? The goods that—

Clit. Only tell me the truth, Syrus.

Syr. Dispatch quickly; you’ll be wishing just now too late and in vain. (Going.)

Clin. The Gods provide, enjoy while yet you may; for you know not—

Clit. (calling.) Syrus, I say!

Syr. (moving on.) Go on; I shall still do that which I said.45

Clin. Whether you may have another opportunity hereafter or ever again.

Clit. I’faith, that’s true. (Calling.) Syrus, Syrus, I say, harkye, harkye, Syrus!

Syr. (aside.) He warms a little. (To Clitipho.) What is it you want?

Clit. Come back, come back.

Syr. (coming back to him.) Here I am; tell me what you would have. You’ll be presently saying that this, too, doesn’t please you.

Clit. Nay, Syrus, I commit myself, and my love, and my reputation entirely to you: you are the seducer; take care you don’t deserve any blame.

Syr. It is ridiculous for you to give me that caution, Clitipho, as if my interest was less at stake in this affair than yours. Here, if any ill luck should perchance befall us, words will be in readiness for you, but for this individual blows (pointing to himself.) For that reason, this matter is by no means to be neglected on my part: but do prevail upon him (pointing to Clinia) to pretend that she is his own mistress.

Clin. You may rest assured I’ll do so. The matter has now come to that pass, that it is a case of necessity.

Clit. ’Tis with good reason that I love you, Clinia.

Clin. But she mustn’t be tripping at all.

Syr. She is thoroughly tutored in her part.

Clit. But this I wonder at, how you could so easily prevail upon her, who is wont to treat such great people46 with scorn.

Syr. I came to her at the proper moment, which in all things is of the first importance: for there I found a certain wretched captain soliciting her favors: she artfully managed the man, so as to inflame his eager passions by denial; and this, too, that it might be especially pleasing to yourself. But hark you, take care, will you, not to be imprudently impetuous. You know your father, how quick-sighted he is in these matters; and I know you, how unable you are to command yourself. Keep clear of words of double meaning,47 your sidelong looks, sighing, hemming, coughing, tittering.

Clit. You shall have to commend me.

Syr. Take care of that, please.

Clit. You yourself shall be surprised at me.

Syr. But how quickly the ladies have come up with us!

Clit. Where are they? (Syrus stands before him.) Why do you hold me back?

Syr. For the present she is nothing to you.

Clit. I know it, before my father; but now in the mean time—

Syr. Not a bit the more.

Clit. Do let me.

Syr. I will not let you, I tell you.

Clit. But only for a moment, pray.

Syr. I forbid it.

Clit. Only to salute her.

Syr. If you are wise, get you gone.

Clit. I’m off. But what’s he to do? (Pointing at Clinia.)

Syr. He will stay here.

Clit. O happy man!

Syr. Take yourself off.

Exit Clitipho.

Scene IV.

Enter Bacchis and Antiphila at a distance.

Bacchis. Upon my word, my dear Antiphila, I commend you, and think you fortunate in having made it your study that your manners should be conformable to those good looks of yours: and so may the Gods bless me, I do not at all wonder if every man is in love with you. For your discourse has been a proof to me what kind of disposition you possess. And when now I reflect in my mind upon your way of life, and that of all of you, in fact, who keep the public at a distance from yourselves, it is not surprising both that you are of that disposition, and that we are not; for it is your interest to be virtuous; those, with whom we are acquainted, will not allow us to be so. For our lovers, allured merely by our beauty, court us for that; when that has faded, they transfer their affections elsewhere; and unless we have made provision in the mean time for the future, we live in destitution. Now with you, when you have once resolved to pass your life with one man whose manners are especially kindred to your own, those persons48 become attached to you. By this kindly feeling, you are truly devoted to each other; and no calamity can ever possibly interrupt your love.

Anti. I know nothing about other women: I’m sure that I have, indeed, always used every endeavor to derive my own happiness from his happiness.

Clin. (apart, overhearing Antiphila.) Ah! ’tis for that reason, my Antiphila, that you alone have now caused me to return to my native country; for while I was absent from you, all other hardships which I encountered were light to me, save the being deprived of you.

Syr. (apart.) I believe it.

Clin. (apart.) Syrus, I can scarce endure it!49 Wretch that I am, that I should not be allowed to possess one of such a disposition at my own discretion!

Syr. Nay, so far as I understand your father, he will for a long time yet be giving you a hard task.

Bacch. Why, who is that young man that’s looking at us?

Anti. (seeing Clinia.) Ah! do support me, I entreat you!

Bacch. Prithee, what is the matter with you?

Anti. I shall die, alas! I shall die!

Bacch. Why are you thus surprised, Antiphila?

Anti. Is it Clinia that I see, or not?

Bacch. Whom do you see?

Clin. (running to embrace Antiphila.) Blessings on you, my life!

Anti. Oh my long-wished for Clinia, blessings on you!

Clin. How fare you, my love?

Anti. I’m overjoyed that you have returned safe.

Clin. And do I embrace you, Antiphila, so passionately longed for by my soul?

Syr. Go in-doors; for the old gentleman has been waiting for us some time.

They go into the house of Chremes.

Scene I.

Enter Chremes from his house.

Chrem. (to himself.) It is now daybreak.50 Why do I delay to knock at my neighbor’s door, that he may learn from me the first that his son has returned? Although I am aware that the youth would not prefer this. But when I see him tormenting himself so miserably about his absence, can I conceal a joy so unhoped for, especially when there can be no danger to him from the discovery? I will not do so; but as far as I can I will assist the old man. As I see my son aiding his friend and year’s-mate, and acting as his confidant in his concerns, it is but right that we old men as well should assist each other.

Enter Menedemus from his house.

Men. (to himself.) Assuredly I was either born with a disposition peculiarly suited for misery, or else that saying which I hear commonly repeated, that “time assuages human sorrow,” is false. For really my sorrow about my son increases daily; and the longer he is away from me, the more anxiously do I wish for him, and the more I miss him.

Chrem. (apart.) But I see him coming out of his house; I’ll go speak to him. (Aloud.) Menedemus, good-morrow; I bring you news, which you would especially desire to be imparted.

Men. Pray, have you heard any thing about my son, Chremes?

Chrem. He’s alive, and well.

Men. Why, where is he, pray?

Chrem. Here, at my house, at home.

Men. My son?

Chrem. Such is the fact.

Men. Come home?

Chrem. Certainly.

Men. My son, Clinia, come home?

Chrem. I say so.

Men. Let us go. Lead me to him, I beg of you.

Chrem. He does not wish you yet to know of his return, and he shuns your presence; he’s afraid that, on account of that fault, your former severity may even be increased.

Men. Did you not tell him how I was affected?51

Chrem. No—

Men. For what reason, Chremes?

Chrem. Because there you would judge extremely ill both for yourself and for him, if you were to show yourself of a spirit so weak and irresolute.

Men. I can not help it: enough already, enough, have I proved a rigorous father.

Chrem. Ah Menedemus! you are too precipitate in either extreme, either with profuseness or with parsimony too great. Into the same error will you fall from the one side as from the other. In the first place, formerly, rather than allow your son to visit a young woman, who was then content with a very little, and to whom any thing was acceptable, you frightened him away from here. After that, she began, quite against her inclination, to seek a subsistence upon the town. Now, when she can not be supported without a great expense, you are ready to give any thing. For, that you may know how perfectly she is trained to extravagance, in the first place, she has already brought with her more than ten female attendants, all laden with clothes and jewels of gold; if a satrap52 had been her admirer, he never could support her expenses, much less can you.

Men. Is she at your house?

Chrem. Is she, do you ask? I have felt it; for I have given her and her retinue one dinner; had I to give them another such, it would be all over with me; for, to pass by other matters, what a quantity of wine she did consume for me in tasting only,53 saying thus, “This wine is too acid,54 respected sir,55 do please look for something more mellow.” I opened all the casks, all the vessels;56 she kept all on the stir: and this but a single night. What do you suppose will become of you when they are constantly preying upon you? So may the Gods prosper me, Menedemus, I do pity your lot.

Men. Let him do what he will; let him take, waste, and squander; I’m determined to endure it, so long as I only have him with me.

Chrem. If it is your determination thus to act, I hold it to be of very great moment that he should not be aware that with a full knowledge you grant him this.

Men. What shall I do?

Chrem. Any thing, rather than what you are thinking of; supply him with money through some other person; suffer yourself to be imposed upon by the artifices of his servant: although I have smelt out this too, that they are about that, and are secretly planning it among them. Syrus is always whispering with that servant of yours;57 they impart their plans to the young men; and it were better for you to lose a talent this way, than a mina the other. The money is not the question now, but this—in what way we can supply it to the young man with the least danger. For if he once knows the state of your feelings, that you would sooner part with your life, and sooner with all your money, than allow your son to leave you; whew! what an inlet58 will you be opening for his debauchery! aye, and so much so, that henceforth to live can not be desirable to you. For we all become worse through indulgence. Whatever comes into his head, he’ll be wishing for; nor will he reflect whether that which he desires is right or wrong. You will not be able to endure your estate and him going to ruin. You will refuse to supply him: he will immediately have recourse to the means by which he finds that he has the greatest hold upon you, and threaten that he will immediately leave you.

Men. You seem to speak the truth, and just what is the fact.

Chrem. I’faith, I have not been sensible of sleep this night with my eyes,59 for thinking of this—how to restore your son to you.

Men. (taking his hand.) Give me your right hand. I request that you will still act in a like manner, Chremes.

Chrem. I am ready to serve you.

Men. Do you know what it is I now want you to do?

Chrem. Tell me.

Men. As you have perceived that they are laying a plan to deceive me, that they may hasten to complete it. I long to give him whatever he wants: I am now longing to behold him.

Chrem. I’ll lend my endeavors. This little business is in my way. Our neighbors Simus and Crito are disputing here about boundaries; they have chosen me for arbitrator. I’ll go and tell them that I can not possibly give them my attention to-day as I had stated I would. I’ll be here immediately.

Exit.

Men. Pray do. (To himself.) Ye Gods, by our trust in you! That the nature of all men should be so constituted, that they can see and judge of other men’s affairs better than their own! Is it because in our own concerns we are biased either with joy or grief in too great a degree? How much wiser now is he for me, than I have been for myself!

Re-enter Chremes.

Chrem. I have disengaged myself, that I might lend you my services at my leisure. Syrus must be found and instructed by me in this business. Some one, I know not who, is coming out of my house: do you step hence home, that they may not perceive60 that we are conferring together.

Menedemus goes into his house.

Scene II.

Enter Syrus from the house of Chremes.

Syr. (aloud to himself.) Run to and fro in every direction; still, money, you must be found: a trap must be laid for the old man.

Chrem. (apart, overhearing him.) Was I deceived in saying that they were planning this? That servant of Clinia’s is somewhat dull; therefore that province has been assigned to this one of ours.

Syr. (in a low voice.) Who’s that speaking? (Catches sight of Chremes.) I’m undone! Did he hear it, I wonder?

Chrem. Syrus.

Syr. Well—

Chrem. What are you doing here?

Syr. All right. Really, I am quite surprised at you, Chremes, up so early, after drinking so much yesterday.

Chrem. Not too much.

Syr. Not too much, say you? Really, you’ve seen the old age of an eagle,61 as the saying is.

Chrem. Pooh, pooh!

Syr. A pleasant and agreeable woman this Courtesan.

Chrem. Why, so she seemed to me, in fact.

Syr. And really of handsome appearance.

Chrem. Well enough.

Syr. Not like those of former days,62 but as times are now, very passable: nor do I in the least wonder that Clinia doats upon her. But he has a father—a certain covetous, miserable, and niggardly person—this neighbor of ours (pointing to the house). Do you know him? Yet, as if he was not abounding in wealth, his son ran away through want. Are you aware that it is the fact, as I am saying?

Chrem. How should I not be aware? A fellow that deserves the mill.

Syr. Who?

Chrem. That servant of the young gentleman, I mean.

Syr. (aside.) Syrus! I was sadly afraid for you.

Chrem. To suffer it to come to this!

Syr. What was he to do?

Chrem. Do you ask the question? He ought to have found some expedient, contrived some stratagem, by means of which there might have been something for the young man to give to his mistress, and thus have saved this crabbed old fellow in spite of himself.

Syr. You are surely joking.

Chrem. This ought to have been done by him, Syrus.

Syr. How now—pray, do you commend servants, who deceive their masters?

Chrem. Upon occasion—I certainly do commend them.

Syr. Quite right.

Chrem. Inasmuch as it often is the remedy for great disturbances. Then would this man’s only son have staid at home.

Syr. (aside.) Whether he says this in jest or in earnest, I don’t know; only, in fact, that he gives me additional zest for longing still more to trick him.

Chrem. And what is he now waiting for, Syrus? Is it until his father drives him away from here a second time, when he can no longer support her expenses?63 Has he no plot on foot against the old gentleman?

Syr. He is a stupid fellow.

Chrem. Then you ought to assist him—for the sake of the young man.

Syr. For my part, I can do so easily, if you command me; for I know well in what fashion it is usually done.

Chrem. So much the better, i’ faith.

Syr. ’Tis not my way to tell an untruth.

Chrem. Do it then.

Syr. But hark you! Just take care and remember this, in case any thing of this sort should perchance happen at a future time, such are human affairs!—your son might do the same.

Chrem. The necessity will not arise, I trust.

Syr. I’ faith, and I trust so too: nor do I say so now, because I have suspected him in any way; but in case, none the more64—You see what his age is; (aside) and truly, Chremes,65 if an occasion does happen, I may be able to handle you right handsomely.

Chrem. As to that, we’ll consider what is requisite when the occasion does happen. At present do you set about this matter.

Goes into his house.

Syr. (to himself.) Never on any occasion did I hear my master talk more to the purpose; nor at any time could I believe that I was authorized to play the rogue with greater impunity. I wonder who it is coming out of our house?

Stands aside.

Scene III.

Enter Chremes and Clitipho from the house of the former.

Chrem. Pray, what does this mean? What behavior is this, Clitipho? Is this acting as becomes you?

Clit. What have I done?

Chrem. Did I not see you just now putting your hand into this Courtesan’s bosom?

Syr. (apart.) It’s all up with us—I’m utterly undone!

Clit. What, I?

Chrem. With these self-same eyes I saw it—don’t deny it. Besides, you wrong him unworthily in not keeping your hands off: for indeed it is a gross affront to entertain a person, your friend, at your house, and to take liberties with his mistress. Yesterday, for instance, at wine, how rude you were—

Syr. (apart.) ’Tis the truth.66

Chrem. How annoying you were! So much so, that for my part, as the Gods may prosper me, I dreaded what in the end might be the consequence. I understand lovers. They resent highly things that you would not imagine.

Clit. But he has full confidence in me, father, that I would not do any thing of that kind.

Chrem. Be it so; still, at least, you ought to go somewhere for a little time away from their presence. Passion prompts to many a thing; your presence acts as a restraint upon doing them. I form a judgment from myself. There’s not one of my friends this day to whom I would venture, Clitipho, to disclose all my secrets. With one, his station forbids it; with another, I am ashamed of the action itself, lest I may appear a fool or devoid of shame; do you rest assured that he does the same.67 But it is our part to be sensible of this; and, when and where it is requisite, to show due complaisance.

Syr. (coming forward and whispering to Clitipho.) What is it he is saying?

Clit. (aside, to Syrus.) I’m utterly undone!

Syr. Clitipho, these same injunctions I gave you. You have acted the part of a prudent and discreet person.68

Clit. Hold your tongue, I beg.

Syr. Very good.

Chrem. (approaching them.) Syrus, I am ashamed of him.

Syr. I believe it; and not without reason. Why, he vexes myself even.

Clit. (to Syrus.) Do you persist, then?

Syr. I’ faith, I’m saying the truth, as it appears to me.

Clit. May I not go near them?

Chrem. How now—pray, is there but one way69 of going near them?

Syr. (aside.) Confusion! He’ll be betraying himself before I’ve got the money. (Aloud.) Chremes, will you give attention to me, who am but a silly person?

Chrem. What am I to do?

Syr. Bid him go somewhere out of the way.

Clit. Where am I to go?

Syr. Where you please; leave the place to them; be off and take a walk.

Clit. Take a walk! where?

Syr. Pshaw! Just as if there was no place to walk in. Why, then, go this way, that way, where you will.

Chrem. He says right, I’m of his opinion.

Clit. May the Gods extirpate you, Syrus, for thrusting me away from here.

Syr. (aside to Clitipho.) Then do you for the future keep those hands of yours within bounds. (Exit Clitipho.) Really now (to Chremes), what do you think? What do you imagine will become of him next, unless, so far as the Gods afford you the means, you watch him, correct and admonish him?

Chrem. I’ll take care of that.

Syr. But now, master, he must be looked after by you.

Chrem. It shall be done.

Syr. If you are wise,—for now he minds me less and less every day.

Chrem. What say you? What have you done, Syrus, about that matter which I was mentioning to you a short time since? Have you any plan that suits you, or not yet even?

Syr. You mean the design upon Menedemus? I have; I have just hit upon one.

Chrem. You are a clever fellow; what is it? Tell me.

Syr. I’ll tell you; but, as one matter arises, out of another——

Chrem. Why, what is it, Syrus?

Syr. This Courtesan is a very bad woman.

Chrem. So she seems.

Syr. Aye, if you did but know. O shocking! just see what she is hatching. There was a certain old woman here from Corinth,—this Bacchis lent her a thousand silver drachmæ.

Chrem. What then?

Syr. She is now dead: she has left a daughter, a young girl. She has been left with this Bacchis as a pledge for that sum.

Chrem. I understand you.

Syr. She has brought her hither along with her, her I mean who is now with your wife.70

Chrem. What then?

Syr. She is soliciting Clinia at once to advance her this money; she says, however, that this girl is to be a security, that, at a future time, she will repay the thousand pieces of money.

Chrem. And would she really be a security?71

Syr. Dear me, is it to be doubted? I think so.

Chrem. What then do you intend doing?

Syr. What, I? I shall go to Menedemus; I’ll tell him she is a captive from Caria, rich, and of noble family; if he redeems her, there will be a considerable profit in this transaction.

Chrem. You are in an error.

Syr. Why so?

Chrem. I’ll now answer you for Menedemus—I will not purchase her.

Syr. What is it you say? Do speak more agreeably to our wishes.

Chrem. But there is no occasion.

Syr. No occasion?

Chrem. Certainly not, i’ faith.

Syr. How so, I wonder?

Chrem. You shall soon know.72

Syr. Stop, stop; what is the reason that there is such a great noise at our door?

They retire out of sight.

Scene I.

Enter Sostrata and a Nurse in haste from the house of Chremes, and Chremes and Syrus on the other side of the stage unperceived.

Sos. (holding up a ring and examining it.) Unless my fancy deceives me, surely this is the ring which I suspect it to be, the same with which my daughter was exposed.

Chrem. (apart.) Syrus, what is the meaning of these expressions?

Sos. Nurse, how is it? Does it not seem to you the same?

Nur. As for me, I said it was the same the very instant that you showed it me.

Sos. But have you now examined it thoroughly, my dear nurse?

Nur. Thoroughly.

Sos. Then go in-doors at once, and if she has now done bathing, bring me word. I’ll wait here in the mean time for my husband.

Syr. (apart.) She wants you, see what it is she wants; she is in a serious mood, I don’t know why; it is not without a cause—I fear what it may be.

Chrem. What it may be? I’ faith, she’ll now surely be announcing some important trifle, with a great parade.

Sos. (turning round.) Ha! my husband!

Chrem. Ha! my wife!

Sos. I was looking for you.

Chrem. Tell me what you want.

Sos. In the first place, this I beg of you, not to believe that I have ventured to do any thing contrary to your commands.

Chrem. Would you have me believe you in this, although so incredible? Well, I will believe you.

Syr. (aside.) This excuse portends I know not what offense.

Sos. Do you remember me being pregnant, and yourself declaring to me, most peremptorily, that if I should bring forth a girl, you would not have it brought up.

Chrem. I know what you have done, you have brought it up.

Syr. (aside.) Such is the fact, I’m sure: my young master has gained a loss73 in consequence.

Sos. Not at all; but there was here an elderly woman of Corinth, of no indifferent character; to her I gave it to be exposed.

Chrem. O Jupiter! that there should be such extreme folly in a person’s mind.

Sos. Alas! what have I done?

Chrem. And do you ask the question?

Sos. If I have acted wrong, my dear Chremes, I have done so in ignorance.

Chrem. This, indeed, I know for certain, even if you were to deny it, that in every thing you both speak and act ignorantly and foolishly: how many blunders you disclose in this single affair! For, in the first place, then, if you had been disposed to obey my orders, the child ought to have been dispatched; you ought not in words to have feigned her death, and in reality to have left hopes of her surviving. But that I pass over; compassion, maternal affection, I allow it. But how finely you did provide for the future! What was your meaning? Do reflect. It’s clear, beyond a doubt, that your daughter was betrayed by you to this old woman, either that through you she might make a living by her, or that she might be sold in open market as a slave. I suppose you reasoned thus: “any thing is enough, if only her life is saved:” what are you to do with those who understand neither law, nor right and justice? Be it for better or for worse, be it for them or against them, they see nothing except just what they please.

Sos. My dear Chremes, I have done wrong, I own; I am convinced. Now this I beg of you; inasmuch as you are more advanced in years than I, be so much the more ready to forgive; so that your justice may be some protection for my weakness.

Chrem. I’ll readily forgive you doing this, of course; but, Sostrata, my easy temper prompts you to do amiss. But, whatever this circumstance is, by reason of which this was begun upon, proceed to tell it.

Sos. As we women are all foolishly and wretchedly superstitious, when I delivered the child to her to be exposed, I drew a ring from off my finger, and ordered her to expose it, together with the child; that if she should die, she might not be without74 some portion of our possessions.

Chrem. That was right; thereby you proved the saving of yourself and her.75

Sos. (holding out the ring.) This is that ring.

Chrem. Whence did you get it?

Sos. From the young woman whom Bacchis brought here with her.

Syr. (aside.) Ha!

Chrem. What does she say?

Sos. She gave it me to keep for her, while she went to bathe. At first I paid no attention to it; but after I looked at it, I at once recognized it, and came running to you.

Chrem. What do you suspect now, or have you discovered, relative to her?

Sos. I don’t know; unless you inquire of herself whence she got it, if that can possibly be discovered.

Syr. (aside.) I’m undone! I see more hopes76 from this incident than I desire. If it is so, she certainly must be ours.

Chrem. Is this woman living to whom you delivered the child?

Sos. I don’t know.

Chrem. What account did she bring you at the time?

Sos. That she had done as I had ordered her.

Chrem. Tell me what is the woman’s name, that she may be inquired after.

Sos. Philtere.

Syr. (aside.) ’Tis the very same. It’s a wonder if she isn’t found, and I lost.

Chrem. Sostrata, follow me this way in-doors.

Sos. How much beyond my hopes has this matter turned out! How dreadfully afraid I was, Chremes, that you would now be of feelings as unrelenting as formerly you were on exposing the child.

Chrem. Many a time a man can not be77 such as he would be, if circumstances do not admit of it. Time has now so brought it about, that I should be glad of a daughter; formerly I wished for nothing less.

Chremes and Sostrata go into the house.

Scene II.

Syrus alone.

Syr. Unless my fancy deceives me,78 retribution79 will not be very, far off from me; so much by this incident are my forces now utterly driven into straits; unless I contrive by some means that the old man mayn’t come to know that this damsel is his son’s mistress. For as to entertaining any hopes about the money, or supposing I could cajole him, it’s useless; I shall be sufficiently triumphant, if I’m allowed to escape with my sides covered.80 I’m vexed that such a tempting morsel has been so suddenly snatched away from my jaws. What am I to do? Or what shall I devise? I must begin upon my plan over again. Nothing is so difficult, but that it may be found out by seeking. What now if I set about it after this fashion. (He considers.) That’s of no use. What, if after this fashion? I effect just about the same. But this I think will do. It can not. Yes! excellent. Bravo! I’ve found out the best of all—I’ faith, I do believe that after all I shall lay hold of this same runaway money.81

Scene III.

Enter Clinia at the other side of the stage.

Clin. (to himself.) Nothing can possibly henceforth befall me of such consequence as to cause me uneasiness; so extreme is this joy that has surprised me. Now then I shall give myself up entirely to my father, to be more frugal than even he could wish.

Syr. (apart.) I wasn’t mistaken; she has been discovered, so far as I understand from these words of his. (Advancing.) I am rejoiced that this matter has turned out for you so much to your wish.

Clin. O my dear Syrus, have you heard of it, pray?

Syr. How shouldn’t I, when I was present all the while?

Clin. Did you ever hear of any thing falling out so fortunately for any one?

Syr. Never.

Clin. And, so may the Gods prosper me, I do not now rejoice so much on my own account as hers, whom I know to be deserving of any honor.

Syr. I believe it: but now, Clinia, come, attend to me in my turn. For your friend’s business as well,—it must be seen to—that it is placed in a state of security, lest the old gentleman should now come to know any thing about his mistress.

Clin. O Jupiter!

Syr. Do be quiet.

Clin. My Antiphila will be mine.

Syr. Do you still interrupt me thus?

Clin. What can I do? My dear Syrus, I’m transported with joy! Do bear with me.

Syr. I’ faith, I really do bear with you.

Clin. We are blest with the life of the Gods.

Syr. I’m taking pains to no purpose, I doubt.

Clin. Speak; I hear you.

Syr. But still you’ll not mind it.

Clin. I will.

Syr. This must be seen to, I say, that your friend’s business as well is placed in a state of security. For if you now go away from us, and leave Bacchis here, our old man will immediately come to know that she is Clitipho’s mistress; if you take her away with you, it will be concealed just as much as it has been hitherto concealed.

Clin. But still, Syrus, nothing can make more against my marriage than this; for with what face am I to address my father about it? You understand what I mean?

Syr. Why not?

Clin. What can I say? What excuse can I make?

Syr. Nay, I don’t want you to dissemble; tell him the whole case just as it really is.

Clin. What is it you say?

Syr. I bid you do this; tell him that you are in love with her, and want her for a wife: that this Bacchis is Clitipho’s mistress.

Clin. You require a thing that is fair and reasonable, and easy to be done. And I suppose, then, you would have me request my father to keep it a secret from your old man.

Syr. On the contrary; to tell him directly the matter just as it is.

Clin. What? Are you quite in your senses or sober? Why, you were for ruining him outright. For how could he be in a state of security? Tell me that.

Syr. For my part, I yield the palm to this device. Here I do pride myself exultingly, in having in myself such exquisite resources, and power of address so great, as to deceive them both by telling the truth: so that when your old man tells ours that she is his son’s mistress, he’ll still not believe him.

Clin. But yet, by these means you again cut off all hopes of my marriage; for as long as Chremes believes that she is my mistress, he’ll not give me his daughter. Perhaps you care little what becomes of me, so long as you provide for him.

Syr. What the plague, do you suppose I want this pretense to be kept up for an age? ’Tis but for a single day, only till I have secured the money: you be quiet; I ask no more.

Clin. Is that sufficient? If his father should come to know of it, pray, what then?

Syr. What if I have recourse to those who say, “What now if the sky were to fall?”82

Clin. I’m afraid to go about it.

Syr. You, afraid! As if it was not in your power to clear yourself at any time you like, and discover the whole matter.

Clin. Well, well; let Bacchis be brought over to our house.

Syr. Capital! she is coming out of doors.

Scene IV.

Enter Bacchis and Phrygia, from the house of Chremes.

Bacch. (pretending not to see Clinia and Syrus.) To a very fine purpose,83 upon my faith, have the promises of Syrus brought me hither, who agreed to lend me ten minæ. If now he deceives me, oft as he may entreat me to come, he shall come in vain. Or else, when I’ve promised to come, and fixed the time, when he has carried word back for certain, and Clitipho is on the stretch of expectation, I’ll disappoint him and not come. Syrus will make atonement to me with his back.

Clin. (apart, to Syrus.) She promises you very fairly.

Syr. (to Clinia.) But do you think she is in jest? She’ll do it, if I don’t take care.

Bacch. (aside.) They’re asleep84—I’faith, I’ll rouse them. (Aloud.) My dear Phrygia, did you hear about the country-seat of Charinus, which that man was showing us just now?

Phry. I heard of it.

Bacch. (aloud.) That it was the next to the farm here on the right-hand side.85

Phry. I remember.

Bacch. (aloud) Run thither post-haste; the Captain is keeping the feast of Bacchus86 at his house.

Syr. (apart.) What is she going to be at?

Bacch. (aloud.) Tell him I am here very much against my inclination, and am detained; but that by some means or other I’ll give them the slip and come to him.

Phrygia moves.

Syr. (coming forward.) Upon my faith, I’m ruined! Bacchis, stay, stay; prithee, where are you sending her? Order her to stop.

Bacch. (to Phrygia.) Be off.

Syr. Why, the money’s ready.

Bacch. Why, then I’ll stay.

Phrygia returns.

Syr. And it will be given you presently.

Bacch. Just when you please; do I press you?

Syr. But do you know what you are to do, pray?

Bacch. What?

Syr. You must now go over to the house of Menedemus, and your equipage must be taken over thither.

Bacch. What scheme are you upon, you rascal?

Syr. What, I? Coining money to give you.

Bacch. Do you think me a proper person for you to play upon?

Syr. It’s not without a purpose.

Bacch. (pointing to the house.) Why, have I any business then with you here?

Syr. O no; I’m only going to give you what’s your own.

Bacch. Then let’s be going.87

Syr. Follow this way. (Goes to the door of Menedemus, and calls.) Ho there! Dromo.

Enter Dromo from the house.

Dro. Who is it wants me?

Syr. Syrus.

Dro. What’s the matter?

Syr. Take over all the attendants of Bacchis to your house here immediately.

Dro. Why so?

Syr. Ask no questions. Let them take what they brought here with them. The old gentleman will hope his expenses are lightened by their departure; for sure he little knows how much loss this trifling gain will bring him. You, Dromo, if you are wise, know nothing of what you do know.

Dro. You shall own that I’m dumb.

Clinia, Bacchis, and Phrygia go into the house of Menedemus, and Dromo follows with Bacchis’s retinue and baggage.

Scene V.

Enter Chremes from his house.

Chrem. (to himself.) So may the Deities prosper me, I am now concerned for the fate of Menedemus, that so great a misfortune should have befallen him. To be maintaining that woman with such a retinue! Although I am well aware he’ll not be sensible of it for some days to come, his son was so greatly missed by him; but when he sees such a vast expense incurred by him every day at home, and no limit to it, he’ll wish that this son would leave him a second time. See—here comes Syrus most opportunely.

Syr. (to himself, as he comes forward.) Why delay to accost him?

Chrem. Syrus.

Syr. Well.

Chrem. How go matters?

Syr. I’ve been wishing for some time for you to be thrown in my way.

Chrem. You seem, then, to have effected something, I know not what, with the old gentleman.

Syr. As to what we were talking of a short time since? No sooner said than done.

Chrem. In real earnest?

Syr. In real.

Chrem. Upon my faith, I can not forbear patting your head for it. Come here, Syrus; I’ll do you some good turn for this matter, and with pleasure. (Patting his head.)

Syr. But if you knew how cleverly it came into my head——

Chrem. Pshaw! Do you boast because it has turned out according to your wishes?

Syr. On my word, not I, indeed; I am telling the truth.

Chrem. Tell me how it is.

Syr. Clinia has told Menedemus, that this Bacchis is your Clitipho’s mistress, and that he has taken her thither with him in order that you might not come to know of it.

Chrem. Very good.

Syr. Tell me, please, what you think of it.

Chrem. Extremely good, I declare.

Syr. Why yes, pretty fair. But listen, what a piece of policy still remains. He is then to say that he has seen your daughter—that her beauty charmed him as soon as he beheld her; and that he desires her for a wife.

Chrem. What, her that has just been discovered?

Syr. The same; and, in fact, he’ll request that she may be asked for.

Chrem. For what purpose, Syrus? For I don’t altogether comprehend it.

Syr. O dear, you are so dull.

Chrem. Perhaps so.

Syr. Money will be given him for the wedding—with which golden trinkets and clothes——do you understand me?

Chrem. To buy them——?

Syr. Just so.

Chrem. But I neither give nor betroth my daughter to him.

Syr. But why?

Chrem. Why, do you ask me? To a fellow——

Syr. Just as you please. I don’t mean that in reality you should give her to him, but that you should pretend it.

Chrem. Pretending is not in my way; do you mix up these plots of yours, so as not to mix me up in them. Do you think that I’ll betroth my daughter to a person to whom I will not marry her?

Syr. I imagined so.

Chrem. By no means.

Syr. It might have been cleverly managed; and I undertook this affair for the very reason, that a short time since you so urgently requested it.

Chrem. I believe you.

Syr. But for my part, Chremes, I take it well and good, either way.

Chrem. But still, I especially wish you to do your best for it to be brought about; but in some other way.

Syr. It shall be done: some other method must be thought of; but as to what I was telling you of,—about the money which she owes to Bacchis,—that must now be repaid her. And you will not, of course, now be having recourse to this method; “What have I to do with it? Was it lent to me? Did I give any orders? Had she the power to pawn my daughter without my consent?” They quote that saying, Chremes, with good reason, “Rigorous law88 is often rigorous injustice.”

Chrem. I will not do so.

Syr. On the contrary, though others were at liberty, you are not at liberty; all think that you are in good and very easy circumstances.

Chrem. Nay rather, I’ll at once carry it to her myself.

Syr. Why no; request your son in preference.

Chrem. For what reason?

Syr. Why, because the suspicion of being in love with her has been transferred to him with Menedemus.

Chrem. What then?

Syr. Because it will seem to be more like probability when he gives it her; and at the same time I shall effect more easily what I wish. Here he comes too; go, and bring out the money.

Chrem. I’ll bring it.

Goes into his house.

Scene VI.

Enter Clitipho.

Clit. (to himself.) There is nothing so easy but that it becomes difficult when you do it with reluctance. As this walk of mine, for instance, though not fatiguing, it has reduced me to weariness. And now I dread nothing more than that I should be packed off somewhere hence once again, that I may not have access to Bacchis. May then all the Gods and Goddesses, as many as exist, confound you, Syrus, with these stratagems and plots of yours. You are always devising something of this kind, by means of which to torture me.

Syr. Will you not away with you—to where you deserve? How nearly had your forwardness proved my ruin!

Clit. Upon my faith, I wish it had been so; just what you deserve.

Syr. Deserve? How so? Really, I’m glad that I’ve heard this from you before you had the money which I was just going to give you.

Clit. What then would you have me to say to you? You’ve made a fool of me; brought my mistress hither, whom I’m not allowed to touch——

Syr. Well, I’m not angry then. But do you know where Bacchis is just now?

Clit. At our house.

Syr. No.

Clit. Where then?

Syr. At Clinia’s.

Clit. I’m ruined!

Syr. Be of good heart; you shall presently carry to her the money that you promised her.

Clit. You do prate away.—Where from?

Syr. From your own father.

Clit. Perhaps you are joking with me.

Syr. The thing itself will prove it.

Clit. Indeed, then, I am a lucky man. Syrus, I do love you from my heart.

Syr. But your father’s coming out. Take care not to express surprise at any thing, for what reason it is done; give way at the proper moment; do what he orders, and say but little.

Scene VII.

Enter Chremes from the house, with a bag of money.

Chrem. Where’s Clitipho now?

Syr. (aside to Clitipho.) Say—here I am.

Clit. Here am I.

Chrem. (to Syrus.) Have you told him how it is?

Syr. I’ve told him pretty well every thing.

Chrem. Take this money, and carry it. (Holding out the bag.)

Syr. (aside to Clitipho.) Go—why do you stand still, you stone; why don’t you take it?

Clit. Very well, give it me. (Receives the bag.)

Syr. (to Clitipho.) Follow me this way directly. (To Chremes.) You in the mean while will wait here for us till we return; for there’s no occasion for us to stay there long.

Clitipho and Syrus go into the house of Menedemus.

Chrem. (to himself.) My daughter, in fact, has now had ten minæ from me, which I consider as paid for her board; another ten will follow these for clothes; and then she will require two talents for her portion. How many things, both just and unjust, are sanctioned by custom!89 Now I’m obliged, neglecting my business, to look out for some one on whom to bestow my property, that has been acquired by my labor.

Scene VIII.

Enter Menedemus from his house.

Men. (to Clinia within.) My son, I now think myself the happiest of all men, since I find that you have returned to a rational mode of life.

Chrem. (aside.) How much he is mistaken!

Men. Chremes, you are the very person I wanted; preserve, so far as in you lies, my son, myself, and my family.

Chrem. Tell me what you would have me do.

Men. You have this day found a daughter.

Chrem. What then?

Men. Clinia wishes her to be given him for a wife.

Chrem. Prithee, what kind of a person are you?

Men. Why?

Chrem. Have you already forgotten what passed between us, concerning a scheme, that by that method some money might be got out of you?

Men. I remember.

Chrem. That self-same thing they are now about.

Men. What do you tell me, Chremes? Why surely, this Courtesan, who is at my house, is Clitipho’s mistress.

Chrem. So they say, and you believe it all; and they say that he is desirous of a wife, in order that, when I have betrothed her, you may give him money, with which to provide gold trinkets and clothing, and other things that are requisite.

Men. That is it, no doubt; that money will be given to his mistress.

Chrem. Of course it is to be given.

Men. Alas! in vain then, unhappy man, have I been overjoyed; still however, I had rather any thing than be deprived of him. What answer now shall I report from you, Chremes, so that he may not perceive that I have found it out, and take it to heart?

Chrem. To heart, indeed! you are too indulgent to him, Menedemus.

Men. Let me go on; I have now begun: assist me in this throughout, Chremes.

Chrem. Say then, that you have seen me, and have treated about the marriage.

Men. I’ll say so—what then?

Chrem. That I will do every thing; that as a son-in-law he meets my approbation; in fine, too, if you like, tell him also that she has been promised him.

Men. Well, that’s what I wanted—

Chrem. That he may the sooner ask of you, and you may as soon as possible give him what you wish.

Men. It is my wish.

Chrem. Assuredly, before very long, according as I view this matter, you’ll have enough of him. But, however that may be, if you are wise, you’ll give to him cautiously, and a little at a time.

Men. I’ll do so.

Chrem. Go in-doors and see how much he requires. I shall be at home, if you should want me for any thing.

Men. I certainly do want you; for I shall let you know whatever I do.

They go into their respective houses.

Scene I.

Enter Menedemus from his house.

Men. (to himself.) I am quite aware that I am not so overwise, or so very quick-sighted; but this assistant, prompter, and director90 of mine, Chremes, outdoes me in that. Any one of those epithets which are applied to a fool is suited to myself, such as dolt, post, ass,91 lump of lead; to him not one can apply; his stupidity surpasses them all.

Enter Chremes, speaking to Sostrata within.

Chrem. Hold now, do, wife, leave off dinning the Gods with thanksgivings that your daughter has been discovered; unless you judge of them by your own disposition, and think that they understand nothing, unless the same thing has been told them a hundred times. But, in the mean time, why does my son linger there so long with Syrus?

Men. What persons do you say are lingering?

Chrem. Ha! Menedemus, you have come opportunely. Tell me, have you told Clinia what I said?

Men. Every thing.

Chrem. What did he say?

Men. He began to rejoice, just like people do who wish to be married.

Chrem. (laughing.) Ha! ha! ha!

Men. Why are you laughing?

Chrem. The sly tricks of my servant, Syrus, just came into my mind.

Men. Did they?

Chrem. The rogue can even mould the countenances of people.92

Men. That my son is pretending that he is overjoyed, is it that you mean?

Chrem. Just so. (Laughing.)

Men. The very same thing came into my mind.

Chrem. A crafty knave!

Men. Still more would you think such to be the fact, if you knew more.

Chrem. Do you say so?

Men. Do you give attention then?

Chrem. Just stop—first I want to know this, what money you have squandered; for when you told your son that she was promised, of course Dromo would at once throw in a word that golden jewels, clothes, and attendants would be needed for the bride, in order that you might give the money.

Men. No.

Chrem. How, no?

Men. No, I tell you.

Chrem. Nor yet your son himself?

Men. Not in the slightest, Chremes. He was only the more pressing on this one point, that the match might be concluded to-day.

Chrem. You say what’s surprising. What did my servant Syrus do? Didn’t even he say any thing?

Men. Nothing at all.

Chrem. For what reason, I don’t know.

Men. For my part, I wonder at that, when you know other things so well. But this same Syrus has moulded your son,93 too, to such perfection, that there could not be even the slightest suspicion that she is Clinia’s mistress!

Chrem. What do you say?

Men. Not to mention, then, their kissing and embracing; that I count nothing.

Chrem. What more could be done to carry on the cheat?

Men. Pshaw!

Chrem. What do you mean?

Men. Only listen. In the inner part of my house there is a certain room at the back; into this a bed was brought, and was made up with bed-clothes.

Chrem. What took place after this?

Men. No sooner said than done, thither went Clitipho.

Chrem. Alone?

Men. Alone.

Chrem. I’m alarmed.

Men. Bacchis followed directly.

Chrem. Alone?

Men. Alone.

Chrem. I’m undone!

Men. When they had gone into the room, they shut the door.

Chrem. Well—did Clinia see all this going on?

Men. How shouldn’t he? He was with me.

Chrem. Bacchis is my son’s mistress, Menedemus—I’m undone.

Men. Why so?

Chrem. I have hardly substance to suffice for ten days.94

Men. What! are you alarmed at it, because he is paying attention to his friend?

Chrem. His “she-friend” rather.95

Men. If he really is paying it.

Chrem. Is it a matter of doubt to you? Do you suppose that there is any person of so accommodating and tame a spirit as to suffer his own mistress, himself looking on, to—

Men. (chuckling and speaking ironically.) Why not? That I may be imposed upon the more easily.

Chrem. Do you laugh at me? You have good reason. How angry I now am with myself! How many things gave proof, whereby, had I not been a stone, I might have been fully sensible of this? What was it I saw? Alas! wretch that I am! But assuredly they shall not escape my vengeance if I live; for this instant—

Men. Can you not contain yourself? Have you no respect for yourself? Am I not a sufficient example to you?

Chrem. For very anger, Menedemus, I am not myself.

Men. For you to talk in that manner! Is it not a shame for you to be giving advice to others, to show wisdom abroad and yet be able to do nothing for yourself?

Chrem. What shall I do?

Men. That which you said I failed to do: make him sensible that you are his father; make him venture to intrust every thing to you, to seek and to ask of you; so that he may look for no other resources and forsake you.96

Chrem. Nay, I had much rather he would go any where in the world, than by his debaucheries here reduce his father to beggary! For if I go on supplying his extravagance, Menedemus, in that case my circumstances will undoubtedly be soon reduced to the level of your rake.

Men. What evils you will bring upon yourself in this affair, if you don’t act with caution! You’ll show yourself severe, and still pardon him at last; that too with an ill grace.

Chrem. Ah! you don’t know how vexed I am.

Men. Just as you please. What about that which I desire—that she may be married to my son? Unless there is any other step that you would prefer.

Chrem. On the contrary, both the son-in-law and the connection are to my taste.

Men. What portion shall I say that you have named for your daughter? Why are you silent?

Chrem. Portion?

Men. I say so.

Chrem. Alas!

Men. Chremes, don’t be at all afraid to speak, if it is but a small one. The portion is no consideration at all with us.

Chrem. I did think that two talents were sufficient, according to my means. But if you wish me to be saved, and my estate and my son, you must say to this effect, that I have settled all my property on her as her portion.

Men. What scheme are you upon?

Chrem. Pretend that you wonder at this, and at the same time ask him the reason why I do so.

Men. Why, really, I can’t conceive the reason for your doing so.

Chrem. Why do I do so? To check his feelings, which are now hurried away by luxury and wantonness, and to bring him down so as not to know which way to turn himself.

Men. What is your design?

Chrem. Let me alone, and give me leave to have my own way in this matter.

Men. I do give you leave: is this your desire?

Chrem. It is so.

Men. Then be it so.

Chrem. And now let your son prepare to fetch the bride. The other one shall be schooled in such language as befits children. But Syrus——

Men. What of him?

Chrem. What? If I live, I will have him so handsomely dressed, so well combed out, that he shall always remember me as long as he lives; to imagine that I’m to be a laughing-stock and a plaything for him! So may the Gods bless me! he would not have dared to do to a widow-woman the things which he has done to me.97

They go into their respective houses.

Scene II.

Enter Menedemus, with Clitipho and Syrus.

Clit. Prithee, is it really the fact, Menedemus, that my father can, in so short a space of time, have cast off all the natural affection of a parent for me? For what crime? What so great enormity have I, to my misfortune, committed? Young men generally do the same.

Men. I am aware that this must be much more harsh and severe to you, on whom it falls; but yet I take it no less amiss than you. How it is so I know not, nor can I account for it, except that from my heart I wish you well.

Clit. Did not you say that my father was waiting here?

Enter Chremes from his house.

Men. See, here he is.

Menedemus goes into his house.

Chrem. Why are you blaming me, Clitipho? Whatever I have done in this matter, I had a view to you and your imprudence. When I saw that you were of a careless disposition, and held the pleasures of the moment of the first importance, and did not look forward to the future, I took measures that you might neither want nor be able to waste this which I have. When, through your own conduct, it was not allowed me to give it you, to whom I ought before all, I had recourse to those who were your nearest relations; to them I have made over and intrusted every thing.98 There you’ll always find a refuge for your folly; food, clothing, and a roof under which to betake yourself.

Clit. Ah me!

Chrem. It is better than that, you being my heir, Bacchis should possess this estate of mine.

Syr. (apart.) I’m ruined irrevocably!—Of what mischief have I, wretch that I am, unthinkingly been the cause?

Clit. Would I were dead!

Chrem. Prithee, first learn what it is to live. When you know that, if life displeases you, then try the other.

Syr. Master, may I be allowed——?

Chrem. Say on.

Syr. But may I safely?

Chrem. Say on.

Syr. What injustice or what madness is this, that that in which I have offended, should be to his detriment?

Chrem. It’s all over.99 Don’t you mix yourself up in it; no one accuses you, Syrus, nor need you look out for an altar,100 or for an intercessor for yourself.

Syr. What is your design?

Chrem. I am not at all angry either with you (to Syrus), or with you (to Clitipho); nor is it fair that you should be so with me for what I am doing.

He goes into his house.

Syr. He’s gone. I wish I had asked him——

Clit. What, Syrus?

Syr. Where I am to get my subsistence; he has so utterly cast us adrift. You are to have it, for the present, at your sister’s, I find.

Clit. Has it then come to this pass, Syrus—that I am to be in danger even of starving?

Syr. So we only live, there’s hope——

Clit. What hope?

Syr. That we shall be hungry enough.

Clit. Do you jest in a matter so serious, and not give me any assistance with your advice?

Syr. On the contrary, I’m both now thinking of that, and have been about it all the time your father was speaking just now; and so far as I can perceive——

Clit. What?

Syr. It will not be wanting long. (He meditates.)

Clit. What is it, then?

Syr. It is this—I think that you are not their son.

Clit. How’s that, Syrus? Are you quite in your senses?

Syr. I’ll tell you what’s come into my mind; be you the judge. While they had you alone, while they had no other source of joy more nearly to affect them, they indulged you, they lavished upon you. Now a daughter has been found, a pretense has been found in fact on which to turn you adrift.

Clit. It’s very probable.

Syr. Do you suppose that he is so angry on account of this fault?

Clit. I do not think so.

Syr. Now consider another thing. All mothers are wont to be advocates for their sons when in fault, and to aid them against a father’s severity; ’tis not so here.

Clit. You say true; what then shall I now do, Syrus?

Syr. Question them on this suspicion; mention the matter without reserve; either, if it is not true, you’ll soon bring them both to compassion, or else you’ll soon find out whose son you are.

Clit. You give good advice; I’ll do so.

He goes into the home of Chremes.

Syr. (to himself.) Most fortunately did this come into my mind. For the less hope the young man entertains, the greater the difficulty with which he’ll bring his father to his own terms. I’m not sure even, that he may not take a wife, and then no thanks for Syrus. But what is this? The old man’s coming out of doors; I’ll be off. What has so far happened, I am surprised at, that he didn’t order me to be carried off from here: now I’ll away to Menedemus here, I’ll secure him as my intercessor; I can put no trust in our old man.

Goes into the house of Menedemus.

Scene III.

Enter Chremes and Sostrata from the house.

Sos. Really, sir, if you don’t take care, you’ll be causing some mischief to your son; and indeed I do wonder at it, my husband, how any thing so foolish could ever come into your head.

Chrem. Oh, you persist in being the woman? Did I ever wish for any one thing in all my life, Sostrata, but that you were my contradicter on that occasion? And yet if I were now to ask you what it is that I have done amiss, or why you act thus, you would not know in what point you are now so obstinately opposing me in your folly.

Sos. I, not know?

Chrem. Yes, rather, I should have said you do know; inasmuch as either expression amounts to the same thing.101

Sos. Alas! you are unreasonable to expect me to be silent in a matter of such importance.

Chrem. I don’t expect it; talk on then, I shall still do it not a bit the less.

Sos. Will you do it?

Chrem. Certainly.

Sos. Don’t you see how much evil you will be causing by that course?—He suspects himself to be a foundling.

Chrem. Do you say so?

Sos. Assuredly it will be so.

Chrem. Admit it.

Sos. Hold now—prithee, let that be for our enemies. Am I to admit that he is not my son who really is?

Chrem. What! are you afraid that you can not prove that he is yours, whenever you please?

Sos. Because my daughter has been found?102

Chrem. No; but for a reason why it should be much sooner believed—because he is just like you in disposition, you will easily prove that he is your child; for he is exactly like you; why, he has not a single vice left him but you have just the same. Then, besides, no woman could have been the mother of such a son but yourself. But he’s coming out of doors, and how demure! When you understand the matter, you may form your own conclusions.

Scene IV.

Enter Clitipho from the house of Chremes.

Clit. If there ever was any time, mother, when I caused you pleasure, being called your son by your own desire, I beseech you to remember it, and now to take compassion on me in my distress. A thing I beg and request—do discover to me my parents.

Sos. I conjure you, my son, not to entertain that notion in your mind, that you are another person’s child.

Clit. I am.

Sos. Wretch that I am! (Turning to Chremes.) Was it this that you wanted, pray? (To Clitipho.) So may you be the survivor of me and of him, you are my son and his; and henceforth, if you love me, take care that I never hear that speech from you again.

Chrem. But I say, if you fear me, take care how I find these propensities existing in you.

Clit. What propensities?

Chrem. If you wish to know, I’ll tell you; being a trifler, an idler, a cheat, a glutton, a debauchee, a spendthrift—Believe me, and believe that you are our son.

Clit. This is not the language of a parent.

Chrem. If you had been born from my head, Clitipho, just as they say Minerva was from Jove’s, none the more on that account would I suffer myself to be disgraced by your profligacy.103

Sos. May the Gods forbid it.

Chrem. I don’t know as to the Gods;104 so far as I shall be enabled, I will carefully prevent it. You are seeking that which you possess—parents; that which you are in want of you don’t seek—in what way to pay obedience to a father, and to preserve what he acquired by his industry. That you by trickery should bring before my eyes—I am ashamed to mention the unseemly word in her presence (pointing to Sostrata), but you were not in any degree ashamed to act thus.

Clit. (aside.) Alas! how thoroughly displeased I now am with myself! How much ashamed! nor do I know how to make a beginning to pacify him.

Scene V.

Enter Menedemus from his house.

Men. (to himself.) Why really, Chremes is treating his son too harshly and too unkindly. I’m come out, therefore, to make peace between them. Most opportunely I see them both.

Chrem. Well, Menedemus, why don’t you order my daughter to be sent for, and close with the offer105 of the portion that I mentioned?

Sos. My husband, I entreat you not to do it.

Clit. Father, I entreat you to forgive me.

Men. Forgive him, Chremes; do let them prevail upon you.

Chrem. Am I knowingly to make my property a present to Bacchis? I’ll not do it.

Men. Why, we would not suffer it.

Clit. If you desire me to live, father, do forgive me.

Sos. Do, my dear Chremes.

Men. Come, Chremes, pray, don’t be so obdurate.

Chrem. What am I to do here? I see I am not allowed to carry this through, as I had intended.

Men. You are acting as becomes you.

Chrem. On this condition, then, I’ll do it; if he does that which I think it right he should do.

Clit. Father, I’ll do any thing; command me.

Chrem. You must take a wife.

Clit. Father——

Chrem. I’ll hear nothing.

Men. I’ll take it upon myself; he shall do so.

Chrem. I don’t hear any thing from him as yet.

Clit. (aside.) I’m undone!

Sos. Do you hesitate, Clitipho?

Chrem. Nay, just as he likes.

Men. He’ll do it all.

Sos. This course, while you are making a beginning, is disagreeable, and while you are unacquainted with it. When you have become acquainted with it, it will become easy.

Clit. I’ll do it, father.

Sos. My son, upon my honor I’ll give you that charming girl, whom you may soon become attached to, the daughter of our neighbor Phanocrata.

Clit. What! that red-haired girl, with cat’s eyes, freckled face,106 and hooked nose? I can not, father.

Chrem. Heyday! how nice he is! You would fancy he had set his mind upon it.

Sos. I’ll name another.

Clit. Why no—since I must marry, I myself have one that I should pretty nearly make choice of.

Sos. Now, son, I commend you.

Clit. The daughter of Archonides here.

Sos. I’m quite agreeable.

Clit. Father, this now remains.

Chrem. What is it?

Clit. I want you to pardon Syrus for what he has done for my sake.

Chrem. Be it so. (To the Audience.) Fare you well, and grant us your applause.

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