part I

wish you to take in this affair. When my son, Pamphilus, arrived

at man’s estate,[66] of course he was able to live more according to his own inclination: for, until a man has attained that age, his disposition does not discover itself, being kept in check either by his tutor, or by bashfulness, or by his tender years.

_Sosia._ That is very true.

_Simo._ Most young men attach themselves chiefly to one particular pursuit; such, for instance, as breeding horses, keeping hounds, or frequenting the schools of the philosophers.[67] He did not devote himself entirely to any one of these: but employed a moderate portion of his time in each; and I was much pleased to see it.

_Sosia._ As well you might, for I think that every man, in the conduct of his life, should adhere to this precept, “AVOID EXCESS.”

_Simo._ This was his way of life; he bore patiently with every one, accommodated himself to the tempers of his associates; and fell in with them in their pursuits; avoided quarrels; and never arrogantly preferred himself before his companions. Conduct like this will ensure a man praise without envy, and gain many friends.

_Sosia._ This was indeed a wise course of life; for in these times[68], flattery makes friends; truth, foes.

_Simo._ Meantime, about three years ago, a certain woman, exceedingly beautiful, and in the flower of her age, removed into this neighbourhood; she came from the Island of Andros[69]; being compelled to quit it by her poverty and the neglect of her relations[70].

_Sosia._ I augur no good from this woman of Andros.

_Simo._ At first she lived chastely, and penuriously, and laboured hard, managing with difficulty to gain a livelihood[71] with the distaff and the loom: but soon afterwards several lovers made their addresses to her[72]; promising to repay her favours with rich presents; and as we all are naturally prone to pleasure, and averse to labour, she was induced to accept their offers; and at last admitted all her lovers without scruple. It happened that some of them with much persuasion prevailed on my son to accompany them to her house. Aha! thought I, he is caught[73]: he is certainly in love with her. In the morning I watched their pages going to her house and returning; I called one of them; Hark ye, boy, prithee tell me who was the favourite of Chrysis, yesterday? For this was the Andrian’s name.

_Sosia._ I understand you, Sir.

_Simo._ I was answered that it was Phædrus, or Clinia, or Niceratus; for all these were her lovers at that time: well, said I, and what did Pamphilus there! oh! he paid[74] his share and supped with the rest. Another day I inquired and received the same answer; and I was extremely rejoiced that I could learn nothing to attach any blame to my son. Then I thought that I had proved him sufficiently; and that he was a miracle of chastity:――for he who has to contend against the example of men of such vicious inclinations, and can preserve his mind from its pernicious influence, may very safely be trusted with the regulation of his own conduct. To increase my satisfaction, every body joined as if with one voice in the praise of Pamphilus, every one extolled his virtues, and my happiness, in possessing a son endued with so excellent a disposition. In short, this his high reputation induced my friend Chremes to come to me of his own accord, and offer to give his daughter to Pamphilus with a large dowry[75]. I contracted [76]my son, as I was much pleased with the match, which was to have taken place on this very day.

_Sosia._ And what has happened to prevent it?

_Simo._ You shall hear: within a few days of this time our neighbour Chrysis died.

_Sosia._ O happy news! I was still fearful of some mischief from this Andrian.

_Simo._ Upon this occasion my son was continually at the house with the lovers of Chrysis, and joined with them in the care of her funeral; meantime he was sad, and sometimes would even weep. Still I was pleased with all this; if, thought I, he is so much concerned at the death of so slight an acquaintance, how would he be afflicted at the loss of one whom he himself loved, or at my death. I attributed every thing to his humane and affectionate disposition; in short, I myself, for his sake, attended the funeral, even yet suspecting nothing.

_Sosia._ Ah! what has happened then?

_Simo._ I will tell you. The corpse is carried out; we follow: in the mean time, among the women who were there[77], I saw one young girl, with a form so――――

_Sosia._ Lovely, without doubt.

_Simo._ And with a face, Sosia, so modest, and so charming, that nothing can surpass it; and as she appeared more afflicted than the others who were there, and so pre-eminently beautiful[78], and of so noble a carriage, I approach the women who were following the body[79], and inquire who she is: they answer, The sister of the deceased. Instantly the whole truth burst upon me at once: hence then, thought I, proceed those tears; this sister it is, who is the cause of all his affliction.

_Sosia._ How I dread to hear the end of all this!

_Simo._ In the mean time the procession advances; we follow, and arrive at the tomb[80]: the corpse is placed on the pile[81], and quickly enveloped in flames; they weep; while the sister I was speaking of, rushed forward in an agony of grief toward the fire; and her imprudence exposed her to great danger. Then, then it was, that Pamphilus, half dead with terror, publicly betrayed the love he had hitherto so well concealed: he flew to the spot, and throwing his arms around her with all the tenderness imaginable; my dearest Glycera, cried he, what are you about to do? Why do you rush upon destruction? Upon which she threw herself weeping upon his bosom in so affectionate a manner, that it was easy enough to perceive their mutual love.

_Sosia._ How! is this possible!

_Simo._ I returned home, scarcely able to contain my anger; but yet I had not sufficient cause to chide Pamphilus openly; as he might have replied to me, What have I done amiss, my father? or how have I offended you? of what am I guilty? I have preserved the life of one who was going to throw herself into the flames: I prevented her: this would have been a plausible excuse.

_Sosia._ You consider this rightly, Sir; for if he who has helped to save a life is to be blamed for it; what must be done to him who is guilty of violence and injustice?

_Simo._ The next day Chremes came to me, and complained of being shamefully used, as he had discovered for a certainty that Pamphilus had actually married this strange woman[82]. I positively denied that this was the case, and he as obstinately insisted on the truth of it: at last I left him, as he was absolutely resolved to break off the match.

_Sosia._ Did you not then rebuke Pamphilus?

_Simo._ No: there was nothing yet so flagrant as to justify my rebuke.

_Sosia._ How so, Sir, pray explain?

_Simo._ He might have answered me thus: you yourself, my father, have fixed the time when this liberty must cease; and the period is at hand when I must conform myself to the pleasure of another: permit me then, I beseech you, for the short space that remains to me, to live as my own will prompts me.

_Sosia._ True. What cause of complaint can you then find against him?

_Simo._ If he is induced by his love for this stranger, to refuse to marry Philumena in obedience to my commands, that offence will lay him open to my anger; and I am now endeavouring by means of this feigned marriage, to find a just cause of complaint against him: and, at the same time, if that rogue Davus has any subtle scheme on foot, this will induce him to bring it forward now, when it can do no harm; as I believe that rascal will leave no stone unturned in the affair; though more for the sake of tormenting me, than with a view to serve or gratify my son.

_Sosia._ Why do you suspect that?

_Simo._ Why? because of a wicked mind one can expect nothing but wicked intentions[83]. But if I catch him at his tricks――However, ’tis in vain to say more: if it appear, as I trust it will, that my son makes no objection to the marriage, I have only to gain Chremes, whom I must prevail upon by entreaty; and I have great hopes that I shall accomplish it. What I wish you to do is, to assist me in giving out this marriage for truth, to terrify Davus, and to watch the conduct of my son, what he does; and what course he and his hopeful servant resolve upon.

_Sosia._ It is enough, Sir; I will take care to obey you. Now, I suppose, we may go in.

_Simo._ Go, I will follow presently[84].

[_Exit_ SOSIA.

## SCENE II.

SIMO, DAVUS.

_Simo._ My son, I have no doubt, will refuse to marry; for I observed that Davus seemed terribly perplexed just now, when he heard that the match was to take place: but here he comes[85].

_Davus._ (_not seeing Simo._) I wondered that this affair seemed likely to pass off so easily! and always mistrusted the drift of my old master’s extraordinary patience and gentleness; who, though he was refused the wife he wished for, for his son, never mentioned a word of it to us, or seemed to take any thing amiss.

_Simo._ (_aside_.) But now he will, as you shall feel, rascal.

_Davus._ His design was to entrap us while we were indulging in an ill-founded joy, and fancied ourselves quite secure. He wished to take advantage of our heedlessness, and make up the match before we could prevent him: what a crafty old fellow!

_Simo._ How this rascal prates[86]!

_Davus._ Here is my master! he has overheard me! I never saw him!

_Simo._ Davus.

_Davus._ Who calls Davus?

_Simo._ Come hither, sirrah.

_Davus._ (_aside._) What can he want with me?

_Simo._ What were you saying?

_Davus._ About what, Sir?

_Simo._ About what, Sir? The world says that my son has an intrigue.

_Davus._ Oh! Sir, the world cares a great deal about that, no doubt.

_Simo._ Are you attending to this, Sir?

_Davus._ Yes, Sir, certainly.

_Simo._ It does not become me to inquire too strictly into the truth of these reports. I shall not concern myself in what he has done hitherto; for as long as circumstances allowed of it, I left him to himself: but it is now high time that he should alter and lead a new life. Therefore, Davus, I command, and even entreat, that you will prevail on him to amend his conduct.

_Davus._ What is the meaning of all this discourse?

_Simo._ Those who have love intrigues on their hands are generally very averse to marriage.

_Davus._ So I have heard.

_Simo._ And if any of them manage such an affair after the counsel of a knave, ’tis a hundred to one but the rogue will take advantage of their weakness, and lead them a step further, from being love-sick to some still greater scrape or imprudence.

_Davus._ Truly, Sir, I don’t understand what you said last.

_Simo._ No! not understand it!

_Davus._ No. I am not Œdipus[87] but Davus.

_Simo._ Then you wish that what I have to say should be explained openly and without reserve.

_Davus._ Certainly I do.

_Simo._ Then, sirrah, if I discover that you endeavour to prevent my son’s marriage by any of your crafty tricks; or interfere in this business to show your cunning; you may rely on receiving a few scores of lashes, and a situation in the grinding-house[88] for life: upon this token, moreover, that when I liberate you from thence, I will grind in your stead. Is this plain enough for you, or don’t you understand yet?

_Davus._ Oh, perfectly! you come to the point at once: you don’t use much circumlocution, i’faith.

_Simo._ Remember! In this affair above all others, if you begin plotting, I will never forgive it.

_Davus._ Softly, worthy Sir, softly, good words I beg of you.

_Simo._ So! you are merry upon it, are you, but I am not to be imposed upon. I advise you, finally, to take care what you do: you cannot say you have not had fair warning.

[_Exit._

## SCENE III[89].

DAVUS.

In truth, friend Davus, from what I have just heard from the old man about the marriage, I think thou hast no time to lose. This affair must be [90]handled dexterously, or either my young master or I must be quite undone. Nor have I yet resolved which side to take; whether I shall assist Pamphilus, or obey his father. If I abandon the son, I fear his happiness will be destroyed: if I help him, I dread the threats of the old man, who is as crafty as a fox. First, he has discovered his son’s intrigue, and keeps a jealous eye upon me, lest I should set some scheme a-foot to retard the marriage. If he finds out the least thing, I am undone[91], for right or wrong, if he once takes the whim into his head, he will soon find a pretence for sending me to grind in the mill for my life; and, to crown our disasters, this Andrian, Pamphilus’s wife or mistress, I know not which, is with child by him: ’tis strange enough to hear their presumption. I think their [92]intentions savour more of madness than of any thing else: boy or girl, say they, the child shall be brought up[93]. They have made up among them too, some story or other, to prove that she is a citizen of Athens[94]. Thus runs the tale. Once upon a time there was a certain old merchant[95], who was shipwrecked upon the island of Andros, where he afterwards died, and the father of Chrysis took in his helpless little orphan, who was this very Glycera. Fables! for my