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 advantage[104] 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 occasion[105] 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 knew[106] 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 stone[112] 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 you[113] 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.

FOOTNOTES

[Footnote 1: From λαγχάνω, “to obtain by lot” or “heirship.”]

[Footnote 2: From φαιδρὸς, “cheerful.”]

[Footnote 3: From χαίρων, “rejoicing.”]

[Footnote 4: From ἀντὶ, “opposite to,” and φῶς, “light,” or φῆμι, “to speak.”]

[Footnote 5: From χρεμίζω, “to neigh;” delighting in horses.]

[Footnote 6: From θρασὸς, “boldness.”]

[Footnote 7: From γναθὸς, “the jawbone;” a glutton.]

[Footnote 8: From παρὰ, “by,” and μένω, “to remain.”]

[Footnote 9: From Sangia in Phrygia, his native country.]

[Footnote 10: From δόναξ, “a reed.”]

[Footnote 11: From σιμὸς, “flat-nosed.”]

[Footnote 12: From Syria, his country; or from συρίσκος, “a basket of figs.”]

[Footnote 13: From θεάομαι, “to look at.”]

[Footnote 14: From πυθομένη, “asking questions.”]

[Footnote 15: From Doris, their country, a part of Caria.]

[Footnote 16: From σώφρων, “prudent.”]

[Footnote 17: From πᾶν, “all,” and φιλὸς, “a friend.”]

[Footnote 18: _The Title_)--Colman has the following remark on this Play: “This seems to have been the most popular of all the Comedies of Terence. Suetonius and Donatus both inform us that it was acted with the greatest applause, and that the Poet received a larger price for it from the Ædiles than had ever been paid for any before, namely, 8000 sesterces, which is about equal to 200 crowns, which in those times was a considerable sum.”]

[Footnote 19: _Acted twice_)--This probably means “twice in one day.” As it is generally supposed that something is wanting after the figures II, this is presumed to be “die,” “in one day,” in confirmation of which Suetonius informs us that it really was performed twice in one day. Donatus says it was performed three times, by which he may probably mean, twice on one day and once on another.]

[Footnote 20: _Being Consuls_)--M. Valerius Messala and C. Fannius Strabo were Consuls in the year from the building of the City 591, or B.C. 162.]

[Footnote 21: _If there is one who thinks_)--Ver. 4. He alludes to his old enemy, Luscus Lavinius, the Comic Poet, who is alluded to in the Prologue to the Andria, and has since continued his attacks upon him.]

[Footnote 22: _By translating literally_)--Ver. 7. “Bene vertendo, at eosdem scribendo male.” This passage has greatly puzzled some of the Commentators. Bentley has, however, it appears, come to the most reasonable conclusion; who supposes that Terence means by “bene vertere,” a literal translation, word for word, from the Greek, by which a servile adherence to the idiom of that language was preserved to the neglect of the Latin idiom; in consequence of which the Plays of Luscus Lavinius were, as he remarks, “male scriptæ,” written in bad Latin.]

[Footnote 23: _Has published the Phasma_)--Ver. 9. The “Φασμά,” or “Apparition,” was a play of Menander, so called, in which a young man looking through a hole in the wall between his father’s house and that next door, sees a young woman of marvelous beauty, and is struck with awe at the sight, as though by an apparition; in the Play, the girl’s mother is represented as having made this hole in the wall, and having decked it with garlands and branches that it may resemble a consecrated place; where she daily performs her devotions in company with her daughter, who has been privately brought up, and whose existence is unknown to the neighbors. On the youth coming by degrees to the knowledge that the object of his admiration is but a mortal, his passion becomes so violent that it will admit of no cure but marriage, with the celebration of which the Play concludes. Bentley gives us the above information from an ancient Scholiast, whose name is unknown, unless it is Donatus himself, which is doubtful. It would appear that Luscus Lavinius had lately made a translation of this Play, which, from its servile adherence to the language of the original, had been couched in ungrammatical language, and probably not approved of by the Audience. Donatus thinks that this is the meaning of the passage, and that, content with this slight reference to a well-known fact, the author passes it by in contemptuous silence.]

[Footnote 24: _And in the Thesaurus has described_)--Ver. 10. Cook has the following appropriate remark upon this passage: “In the ‘Thesaurus,’ or ‘Treasure’ of Luscus Lavinius, a young fellow, having wasted his estate by his extravagance, sends a servant to search his father’s monument: but he had before sold the ground on which the monument was, to a covetous old man; to whom the servant applies to help him open the monument; in which they discover a hoard and a letter. The old fellow sees the treasure and keeps it; the young one goes to law with him, and the old man is represented as opening his cause first before the judge, which he begins with these words:--

‘Athenienses, bellum cum Rhodiensibus, Quod fuerit, quid ego prædicem?’

‘Athenians, why should I relate the war with the Rhodians?’ And he goes on in a manner contrary to the rules of court; which Terence objects to, because the young man, who was the plaintiff, should open his cause first. Thus far Bentley, from the same Scholiast [as referred to in the last Note]. This Note is a clear explanation of the four verses to which it belongs. Hare concurs with Madame Dacier in her opinion ‘de Thesauro,’ that it is only a part of the Phasma of Menander, and not a distinct Play; but were I not determined by the more learned Bentley, the text itself would not permit me to be of their opinion; for the words ‘atque in Thesauro scripsit’ seem plainly to me to be a transition to another Play. The subject of the Thesaurus is related by Eugraphius, though not with all the circumstances mentioned in my Note from Bentley.” Colman also remarks here; “Menander and his contemporary Philemon, each of them wrote a Comedy under this title. We have in the above Note the story of Menander’s; and we know that of Philemon’s from the ‘Trinummus’ of Plautus, which was a Translation of it.”]

[Footnote 25: _Opportunity of viewing it_)--Ver. 21. Colman thinks that this means something “stronger than merely being present at the representation,” and he takes the meaning to be, that having obtained leave to peruse the MS., he furnished himself with objections against the piece, which he threw out when it came to be represented before the magistrates. Cooke thinks that the passage only means, “that he bustled and took pains to be near enough at the representation to see and hear plainly.” The truth seems to be that Lavinius managed to obtain admission at the rehearsal or trial of the merits of the piece before the magistrates, and that he then behaved himself in the unseemly manner mentioned in the text.]

[Footnote 26: _Produced the piece, but still had not deceived him_)--Ver. 24. There is a pun here upon the resemblance in meaning of the words “verba dare” and “fabulam dare.” The first expression means to “deceive” or “impose upon;” the latter phrase has also the same meaning, but it may signify as well “to represent” or “produce a Play.” Thus the exclamation in its ambiguity may mean, “he has produced a Play, and has not succeeded in deceiving us,” or “he has deceived us, and yet has not deceived us.” This is the interpretation which Donatus puts upon the passage.]

[Footnote 27: _Colax, an old Play of Plautus_)--Ver. 25. Although Nonius Marcellus professes to quote from the Colax of Plautus (so called from the Greek Κολὰξ, “a flatterer” or “parasite”), some scholars have disbelieved in the existence of any Play of Plautus known by that name. Cooke says: “If Plautus had wrote a Play under the title of ‘Colax,’ I should think it very unlikely that it should have escaped Terence’s eye, considering how soon he flourished after Plautus, his being engaged in the same studies, and his having such opportunities to consult the libraries of the great; for though all learning was then confined to Manuscripts, Terence could have no difficulty in coming at the best copies. The character of the ‘Miles Gloriosus’ [Braggart Captain] here mentioned, I am inclined to think the same with that which is the hero of Plautus’s Comedy, now extant, and called ‘Miles Gloriosus,’ from which Terence could not take his Thraso. Pyrgopolinices and Thraso are both full of themselves, both boast of their valor and their intimacy with princes, and both fancy themselves beloved by all the women who see them; and they are both played off by their Parasites, but they differ in their manner and their speech: Plautus’s Pyrgopolinices is always in the clouds, and talking big, and of blood and wounds-- Terence’s Thraso never says too little nor much, but is an easy ridiculous character, continually supplying the Audience with mirth without the wild extravagant bluster of Pyrgopolinices; Plautus and Terence both took their soldiers and Parasites from Menander, but gave them different dresses.” Upon this Note Colman remarks: “Though there is much good criticism in the above Note, it is certain that Plautus did not take his ‘Miles Gloriosus’ from the Colax of Menander, as he himself informs us it was translated from a Greek play called Ἀλάζων, ‘the Boaster,’ and the Parasite is but a trifling character in that play, never appearing after the first Scene.”]

[Footnote 28: _Hurrying servants_)--Ver. 35. On the “currentes servi,” see the Prologue to the Heautontimorumenos, l. 31. Ovid, in the Amores, B. i., El. 15, l. 17, 18, mentions a very similar combination of the characters of Menander’s Comedy: “So long as the deceitful slave, the harsh father, the roguish procuress, and the cozening courtesan shall endure, Menander will exist.”]

[Footnote 29: _What, then, shall I do?_)--Ver. 46. Phædria, on being sent for by Thais, breaks out into those words as he enters, after having deliberated upon his parting with her. Both Horace and Persius have imitated this passage in their Satires.]

[Footnote 30: _What! I to her?_)--Ver. 65. Donatus remarks that this is an abrupt manner of speaking familiarly to persons in anger; and that the sentences are thus to be understood, “I, go to her? Her, who has received him! Who has excluded me!”-- inasmuch as indignation loves to deal in Ellipsis and Aposiopesis.]

[Footnote 31: _The downfall of our fortunes_)--Ver. 79. Colman observes, “There is an extreme elegance in this passage in the original; and the figurative expression is beautifully employed.” “Calamitas” was originally a word used in husbandry, which signified the destruction of growing corn; because, as Donatus says, “Comminuit {calamum} et segetem;”-- “it strikes down the blades and standing corn.”]

[Footnote 32: _Approach this fire_)--Ver. 85. “Ignem” is generally supposed to be used figuratively here, and to mean “the flame of love.” Eugraphius, however, would understand the expression literally, observing that courtesans usually had near their doors an altar sacred to Venus, on which they daily sacrificed.]

[Footnote 33: _Of course it’s because_)--Ver. 89. It must be observed that these words, commencing with “Sane, quia vero,” in the original, are said by Phædria not in answer to the words of Thais immediately preceding, but to her previous question, “Cur non recta introibas?” “Why didn’t you come into the house at once?” and that they are spoken in bitter irony.]

[Footnote 34: _From Sunium_)--Ver. 115. This was a town situate near a lofty Promontory of that name in Attica. It was famous for a fair which was held there. “Sunium’s rocky brow” is mentioned by Byron in the song of the Greek Captive in the third Canto of Don Juan.]

[Footnote 35: _Set out for Caria_)--Ver. 126. This was a country of Asia Minor upon the sea-coast, opposite to the island of Rhodes.]

[Footnote 36: _Servant-maid from Æthiopia_)--Ver. 165. No doubt Æthiopian or negro slaves were much prized by the great, and those courtesans whose object it was to ape their manners.]

[Footnote 37: _Ladies of quality_)--Ver. 168. “Reginæ,” literally “queens,” here means women of rank and distinction.]

[Footnote 38: _Paid twenty minæ_)--Ver. 169. The “minæ” contained one hundred “drachmæ” of about 9¾_d._ each.]

[Footnote 39: _Ah wretched me!_)--Ver. 197. Donatus remarks that the Poet judiciously reserves that part of the plot to be told here, which Thais did not relate to Phædria in the presence of Parmeno; whom the Poet keeps in ignorance as to the rank of the damsel, that he may with the more probability dare to assist Chærea in his attempt on her.]

[Footnote 40: _From the dispositions of other women_)--Ver. 198. Donatus observes that this is one of the peculiar points of excellence shown by Terence, introducing common characters in a new manner, without departing from custom or nature; since he draws a good Courtesan, and yet engages the attention of the Spectators and amuses them. Colman has the following Note here: “Under the name of Thais, Menander is supposed to have drawn the character of his own mistress, Glycerium, and it seems he introduced a Courtesan of the same name into several of his Comedies. One Comedy was entitled ‘Thais,’ from which St. Paul took the sentence in his Epistle to the Corinthians, ‘Evil communications corrupt good manners.’” Plutarch has preserved four lines of the Prologue to that Comedy, in which the Poet, in a kind of mock-heroic manner, invokes the Muse to teach him to depict the character of his heroine.]

[Footnote 41: _Not any one was there_)--Ver. 226-7. Very nearly the same words as these occur in the Mostellaria of Plautus, l. 29, 30: “Than whom, hitherto, no one of the youth of all Attica has been considered more temperate or equally frugal.”]

[Footnote 42: _Nor submit to blows_)--Ver. 244. It has been remarked in the Notes to the Translation of Plautus that the Parasites had, in consequence of their state of dependence, to endure blows and indignities from their fellow-guests. Their attempts to be “ridiculi” or “drolls” were made in order to give some small return to their entertainers. See especially the character of Gelasimus in the Stichus of Plautus, and the words of Ergasilus in the Captivi, l. 88, 90. Diderot, as quoted by Colman, observes: “This is the only Scene in Terence which I remember that can be charged with being superfluous. Thraso has made a present to Thais of a young girl. Gnatho is to convey her. Going along with her, he amuses himself with giving the Spectators a most agreeable eulogium on his profession. But was that the time for it? Let Gnatho pay due attention on the stage to the young woman whom he is charged with, and let him say what he will to himself, I consent to it.”]

[Footnote 43: _Fishmongers_)--Ver. 257. “Cetarii;” strictly speaking, “dealers in large fish.”]

[Footnote 44: _Cooks_)--Ver. 257. The “coqui” were in the habit of standing in the market-place for hire by those who required their services. See the Pseudolus, the Aulularia, and the Mercator of Plautus, and the Notes to Bohn’s Translation. See also a remark on the knavish character of the sausage-makers in the Truculentus of Plautus, l. 110]

[Footnote 45: _Become my follower_)--Ver. 262. “Sectari.” In allusion to the manners of the ancient Philosophers, who were wont to be followed by a crowd of their disciples, who were styled “sectatores” and “sectæ.” Gnatho intends to found a new school of Parasites, who shall be called the “Gnathonics,” and who, by their artful adulation, shall contrive to be caressed instead of being maltreated. Artotrogus, the Parasite in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, seems, however, to have forestalled Gnatho as the founder of this new school.]

[Footnote 46: _I’m standing_)--Ver. 271. “Quid agitur?” “Statur.” The same joke occurs in the Pseudolus of Plautus, l. 457. “Quid agitur? Statur hic ad hunc modum?” “What is going on?” or “What are you about?” “About standing here in this fashion;” assuming an attitude. Colman observes that there is much the same kind of conceit in the “Merry Wives of Windsor.”

FALSTAFF. “My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about.” PISTOL. “Two yards or more.”

Cooke has the following note: “‘Quid agitur’ is to be supposed to have a single meaning as spoken by Gnatho, but Parmeno archly renders it ambiguous by his answer. Our two first English translations, that by Bernard and that by Hoole, make nothing of it, nor indeed any other part of their author. Echard follows Madame Dacier, and perceives a joke; but he does not render ‘quid, agitur’ as the question ought to be translated. ‘Quid agitur’ sometimes means, ‘What are you doing?’ Sometimes, ‘How do you do?’ ‘How are you?’ or ‘How goes the world with you?’”]

[Footnote 47: _From the Piraeus_)--Ver. 290. The Piraeus was the chief harbor of Athens, at the mouth of the Cephisus, about three miles from the City. It was joined to the town by two walls, one of which was built by Themistocles, and the other by Pericles. It was the duty of the Athenian youth to watch here in turn by way of precaution against surprise by pirates or the enemy.]

[Footnote 48: _In your little room_)--Ver. 310. Though “cellulam” seems to be considered by some to mean “cupboard” or “larder,” it is more probable that it here signifies the little room which was appropriated to each slave in the family for his own use.]

[Footnote 49: _Shoulders kept down and chests well girthed_)--Ver. 314. Ovid, in the Art of Love, B. iii., l. 274, alludes to the “strophium” or “girth” here referred to: “For high shoulders, small pads are suitable; and let the girth encircle the bosom that is too prominent.” Becker thinks that the “strophium” was different from the “fascia” or “stomacher,” mentioned in the Remedy of Love, l. 338: “Does a swelling bosom cover all her breast, let no stomacher conceal it.” From Martial we learn that the “strophium” was made of leather.]

[Footnote 50: _Training for a boxer_)--Ver. 315. “Pugilem.” This means “robust as a boxer,” or “athlete.” These persons were naturally considered as the types of robustness, being dieted for the purpose of increasing their flesh and muscle.]

[Footnote 51: _Complexion genuine_)--Ver. 318. “Color verns.” The same expression is used by Ovid, in the Art of Love, B. iii., l. 164: “Et melior vero quæritur arte color:” “And by art a color is sought superior to the genuine one.”]

[Footnote 52: _Full of juiciness_)--Ver. 318. “Succi plenum.” A similar expression occurs in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, l. 787, where Periplecomenus wishes inquiry to be made for a woman who is “siccam, at sucedam,” “sober, but full of juice:” _i.e._ replete with the plumpness and activity of youth.]

[Footnote 53: _The very flower of youth_)--Ver. 319. Ovid makes mention of the “flos” or “bloom” of youth, Art of Love, B. ii., l. 663: “And don’t you inquire what year she is now passing, nor under what Consulship she was born; a privilege which the rigid Censor possesses. And this, especially, if she has passed the bloom of youth, and her best years are fled, and she now pulls out the whitening hairs.”]

[Footnote 54: _Be my advocate_)--Ver. 340. “Advocatus.” It must be remembered that this word did not among the Romans bear the same sense as the word “advocate” does with us. The “advocati” were the friends of a man who accompanied him when his cause was pleaded, and often performed the part of witnesses; those who assisted a person in a dispute or difficulty were also his “advocati,” and in this respect distantly resembled the “second” or “friend” of a party in the modern duel. In the Phormio, Hegio, Cratinus, and Crito are introduced as the “advocati” of Demipho. See also the Pænulus of Plautus, and the Notes to that Play in Bohn’s Translation.]

[Footnote 55: _An hour elapsed_)--Ver. 341. “Hora” is here used to signify the long time, that, in his impatience, it appeared to him to be.]

[Footnote 56: _It’s all over with you,-- you’ve said your last_)--Ver. 347. “Ilicet” and “conclamatnm est,” are words of mournful import, which were used with regard to the funeral rites of the Romans. “Ilicet,” “you may begone,” was said aloud when the funeral was concluded. “Conclamare,” implied the ceremony of calling upon the dead person by name, before light was act to the funeral pile; on no answer being given, he was concluded to be really dead, and the pile was set fire to amid the cries of those present: “conclamatum est” would consequently signify that all hope has gone.]

[Footnote 57: _Thais the Courtesan_)--Ver. 352. Cooke remarks here, somewhat hypercritically as it would seem: “Thais is not called ‘meretrix’ here opprobriously, but to distinguish her from other ladies of the same name, who were not of the same profession.”]

[Footnote 58: _A Eunuch_)--Ver. 356. Eunuchs formed part of the establishment of wealthy persons, who, in imitation of the Eastern nobles, confided the charge of their wives, daughters, or mistresses to them. Though Thais would have no such necessity for his services, her wish to imitate the “reginæ,” or “great ladies,” would make him a not unacceptable present. See the Addresses of Ovid to the Eunuch Bagoüs in the Amours, B. ii., El. 2, 3.]

[Footnote 59: _as she is reported to be_)--Ver. 361. Donatus remarks this as an instance of the art of Terence, in preserving the probability of Chærea’s being received for the Eunuch. He shows hereby that he is so entirely a stranger to the family that he does not even know the person of Thais. It is also added that she has not been long in the neighborhood, and he has been on duty at the Piraeus. The meaning of his regret is, that, not knowing Thais, he will not have an opportunity of seeing the girl.]

[Footnote 60: _Have to pay the penalty_)--Ver. 381. “In me cadetur faba,” literally, “the bean will be struck” or “laid about me;” meaning, “I shall have to smart for it.” There is considerable doubt what is the origin of this expression, and this doubt existed as early as the time of Donatus. He says that it was a proverb either taken from the threshing of beans with a flail by the countrymen; or else from the circumstance of the cooks who have dressed the beans, but have not moistened them sufficiently, being sure to have them thrown at their heads, as though for the purpose of softening them. Neither of these solutions seems so probable as that suggested by Madame Dacier, that dried beans were inserted in the thongs of the “scuticæ,” or “whips,” with which the slaves were beaten. According to others the knots in the whips were only called “fabæ,” from their resemblance to beans.]

[Footnote 61: _Is it disgraceful_)--Ver. 382. Donatus remarks that here Terence obliquely defends the subject of the Play.]

[Footnote 62: _The most mighty King_)--Ver. 397. It has been suggested that Darius III. is here alluded to, who was a contemporary of Menander. As however Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, is mentioned in this Play, there is no necessity to go out of the way to make Terence guilty of an anachronism. Madame Dacier suggests that Seleucus, king of part of Asia Minor, is meant; and as Thraso is called “a stranger” or “foreigner” toward the end of the Play, he probably was intended to be represented as a native of Asia and a subject of Seleucus. One of the Seleuci was also favored with the services of Pyrgopolinices, the “Braggart Captain” of Plantus, in the Miles Gloriosus. See l. 75 in that Play: “For King Seleucus entreated me with most earnest suit that I would raise and enlist recruits for him.”]

[Footnote 63: _You’ve just hit it_)--Ver. 401. Colman here remarks, quoting the following passage from Shakspeare’s “Love’s Labor Lost,” “That that Poet was familiarly acquainted with this Comedy is evident from the passage, ‘Holofernes says, _Novi hominem tanquam te_. His humor is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general behavior vain, ridiculous, and Thrasonical.’” We may remark that the previous words of Gnatho, though spoken with reference to the King, contain a reproach against the Captain’s boastfulness, though his vanity will not let him perceive it.]

[Footnote 64: _In his eye_)--Ver. 401. “In oculis” is generally supposed to mean “as dearly in his eyes.” As, however, the Satraps of the East were called “the king’s eyes,” those who suppose that Darius is alluded to, might with some ground consider the passage as meaning that the king ranked him in the number of his nobles. See the Pænulus of Plautus, l. 693, and the Note in Bohn’s Translation.]

[Footnote 65: _You understand_)--Ver. 405. He says this at the very moment when he is at a loss what to say next; the Parasite obligingly steps in to help him out with the difficulty.]

[Footnote 66: _Indeed, of none_)--Ver. 410. “Immo, nullorum arbitror, si tecum vivit.” This expression which is used “aside,” has two meanings, neither of which is complimentary to the Captain. It may mean, “he has no society if he associates with you,” making the Captain equivalent to nobody; or it may signify, “if he associates with you he’ll be sure to drive all his other acquaintances away.”]

[Footnote 67: _Over the Indian elephants_)--Ver. 413. Here he shows his lofty position to perfection; he dares to take down the pride of one who commanded even the royal elephants. The Braggart Captain of Plautus comes into collision with the elephants themselves: l. 26. Artotrogus says to him, “In what a fashion it was you broke the fore-leg of even an elephant in India with your fist!”]

[Footnote 68: _Looking out for game?_)--Ver. 426. “Pulmentum,” more strictly speaking, “A nice bit.” Patrick has the following Note on this passage: “‘Lepus tute es, et pulmentum quæris?’ A proverbial expression in use at that time: the proper meaning of it, stripped of its figure, is, ‘You are little more than a woman yourself, and do you want a mistress?’” We learn from Donatus and Vopiscus, that Livius Andronicus had used this proverb in his Plays before Terence. Commentators who enter into a minute explanation of it offer many conjectures rather curious than solid, and of a nature not fit to be mentioned here. Donatus seems to think that allusion is made to a story prevalent among the ancient naturalists that the hare was in the habit of changing its sex.]

[Footnote 69: _If, indeed, she loved me_)--Ver. 446. Colman has the following Note upon this passage: “I am at a loss to determine whether it was in order to show the absurdity of the Captain or from inadvertence in the Poet, that Terence here makes Thraso and Gnatho speak in contradiction to the idea of Thais’s wonderful veneration for Thraso, with which they opened the Scene.”]

[Footnote 70: _In exercises_)--Ver. 477. Reference will be found made to the “palæstræ,” or “places of exercise,” in the Notes to the Translation of Plautus.]

[Footnote 71: _If occasion served_)--Ver. 479. The Aposiopesis in this line is very aptly introduced, on account of the presence of the female; but it admirably illustrates the abominable turpitude of the speaker, and perhaps in a somewhat more decent manner than that in which Plautus attributes a similar tendency to his Braggart Captain, l. 1111.]

[Footnote 72: _Out of the very flames_)--Ver. 491. This was a proverb expressive of the lowest degree of meanness and infamy. When they burned the bodies of the dead, it was the custom of the ancients to throw meat and various articles of food upon the funeral pile, and it was considered the greatest possible affront to tell a person that he was capable of snatching these things out of the flames.]

[Footnote 73: _If Chremes should happen to come_)--Ver. 513. This is the first allusion to the arrangement which ultimately causes the quarrel between Thais and the Captain.]

[Footnote 74: _Had been offering a sacrifice_)--Ver. 513. It was the custom to sacrifice before entering on affairs of importance. Thus, too, Jupiter, in the Amphitryon of Plautus, l. 938, speaks of offering sacrifice on his safe return.]

[Footnote 75: _Our rings were given_)--Ver. 541. It was the custom of parties who agreed to join in a “symbola,” or “club” or “picnic” entertainment, to give their rings as pledges to the “rex convivii,” or “getter up the feast.” Stakes were also deposited on making bets at races. See Ovid’s Art of Love, B. i., l. 168.]

[Footnote 76: _To meet my death_)--Ver. 550. There is a passage in the Othello of Shakspeare extremely similar to this:

--“If I were now to die, I were now to be most happy; for, I fear, My soul hath her content so absolute, That not another comfort, like to this, Succeeds in unknown fate.”]

[Footnote 77: _In the inner apartments_)--Ver. 579. The “Gynecæa,” or women’s apartments, among the Greeks, always occupied the interior part of the house, which was most distant from the street, and there they were kept in great seclusion.]

[Footnote 78: _A few novices of girls_)--Ver. 582. These “noviciæ” were young slaves recently bought, and intended to be trained to the calling of a Courtesan.]

[Footnote 79: _At a certain painting_)--Ver. 584. See the story of Jupiter and Danaë, the daughter of Acrisius, king of Argos, in the Metamorphoses of Ovid, B. iv., l. 610. Pictures of Venus and Adonis, and of Jupiter and Ganymede, are mentioned in the Menæchmi of Plautus; l. 144, and paintings on the walls are also mentioned in the Mostellaria of Plantus, l. 821, where Tranio tries to impose upon Theuropides by pretending to point out a picture of a crow between two vultures.]

[Footnote 80: _How Jove_)--Ver. 584. Donatus remarks here that this was “a very proper piece of furniture for the house of a Courtesan, giving an example of loose and mercenary love, calculated to excite wanton thoughts, and at the same time hinting to the young lover that he must make his way to the bosom of his mistress, like Jupiter to Danaë, in a shower of gold. Oh the avarice of harlots!”]

[Footnote 81: _A poor creature of a mortal_)--Ver. 591. “Homuncio.” He uses this word the better to contrast his abject nature as a poor mortal with the majesty of Jupiter. St. Augustin refers to this passage. The preceding line is said by Donatus to be a parody on a passage by Ennius.]

[Footnote 82: _Take this fan_)--Ver. 595. As to the fans of the ancients, see the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 252, and the Note to the passage in Bohn’s Translation. See also the Amours of Ovid, B. iii., El. 2, l. 38.]

[Footnote 83: _Chattered aloud_)--Ver. 600. This line bears a strong resemblance to two lines found in Anstey’s new Bath Guide:

“And how the young ladies all set up their clacks, All the while an old woman was rubbing their backs.”]

[Footnote 84: _I slily looked askance_)--Ver. 601. This way of looking aside, “limis,” is mentioned in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, where Milphidippa tells Acroteleutium to look at the Captain sideways, “Aspicito limis,” l. 1217; also in the Bacchides, l. 1131. Those familiar with the works of Hogarth will readily call to mind the picture of Bedlam in the Rake’s Progress, whore the young woman is looking askance through her fan at the madman in his cell.]

[Footnote 85: _Through the fan_)--Ver. 602. This shows that the fan was probably one made of thin boards, and not of feathers.]

[Footnote 86: _So short-lived_)--Ver. 605. Colman has the following Note here: “Short indeed, considering the number of incidents, which, according to Chærea’s relation, are crowded into it. All the time allowed for this adventure is the short space between the departure of Thais and Thraso and the entrance of Chærea; so that all this variety of business of sleeping, bathing, ravishing, &c., is dispatched during the two soliloquies of Antipho and Chærea, and the short Scene between Chremes and Pythias. The truth is, that a very close adherence to the unities often drives the Poet into as great absurdities as the perfect violation of them.”]

[Footnote 87: _Took off her golden jewels_)--Ver. 627. This was probably because it was contrary to the laws of Athens for a Courtesan to appear with gold or jewels in the street. Madame Dacier suggests another reason, in which there is some force, although it is ridiculed by Cooke. Thais may have supposed that the Captain, when irritated, might not have scrupled to take them away from her. Indeed, nothing would be more probable, than that he would be ready to take them by way of security for the return of the slave, whom he had thus, to no purpose, presented to her. In reference to the preceding line, we may remark that it was not customary among the Greeks for females of good character to appear at table with strangers.]

[Footnote 88: _While I was going_)--Ver. 629. Donatus remarks that here the Poet artfully finds a reason to bring Phædria back again; as he at first with equal art sent him out of the way, to give probability to those incidents necessary to happen in his absence.]

[Footnote 89: _At a distance_)--Ver. 640. “Extremâ lineâ.” There have been many suggestions offered for the origin of this figurative expression. Some suggest that it alludes to the last or lowest stage of the supposed ladder of love; others that it refers to the first or elementary line traced by the student, when beginning to learn the art of painting. It is however more generally thought to be a metaphor taken from the chariot-races in the Circus, where, in going round the turning-place, he who was nearest was said “currere in primâ lineâ;” the next, “in secundâ;” and so on to the last, who took the widest range, and was said to run “in extremâ lineâ.”]

[Footnote 90: _In party-colored clothes_)--Ver. 683. It was the custom to dress Eunuchs in party-colored clothes of bright hue. Most probably it was from them that the “motley” descended to the fools and buffoons of the Middle Ages.]

[Footnote 91: _With a speckled complexion_)--Ver. 689. “Colore stellionino;” probably having spots or freckles on his face like a “stellio” or “lizard.”]

[Footnote 92: _Have done a service to her_)--Ver. 722. Though some would have “illi” here to refer to the damsel, and others again to Phædria, it is pretty clear that Madame Dacier is right in suggesting that Thais is the person meant.]

[Footnote 93: _Casket with the tokens_)--Ver. 752. It was the custom with the ancients when they exposed their children, to leave with them some pledge or token of value, that they might afterward be recognized by means of them. The catastrophes of the Curculio, the Rudens, and other Plays of Plautus, are brought about by taking advantage of this circumstance. The reasons for using these tokens will be stated in a future Note.]

[Footnote 94: _Is a foreigner_)--Ver. 758. And therefore the more unlikely to obtain redress from an Athenian tribunal. See the Andria, l. 811, and the Note to the passage.]

[Footnote 95: _And his maniple_)--Ver. 775. We learn from the Fasti of Ovid, B. iii., l. 117-8, that in early times the Roman armies carried bundles or wisps of hay upon poles by way of standards. “A long pole used to bear the elevated wisps, from which circumstance the manipular soldier derives his name.” It appears from this passage, and from other authors, that to every troop of one hundred men a “manipulus” or wisp of hay (so called from “manum implere,” to “fill the hand,” as being “a handful”), was assigned as a standard, and hence in time the company itself obtained the name of “manipulus,” and the soldier, a member of it, was called “manipularis.” The “centurio,” or “leader of a hundred,” was the commanding officer of the “manipulus.”]

[Footnote 96: _With a dish-clout_)--Ver. 776. “Peniculo.” This word meant a sponge fastened to a stick, or the tail of a fox or an ox, which was used as dusters or dish-clouts are at the present day for cleaning tables, dishes, or even shoes. See the Menæchmi of Plautus, ver. 77 and 391.]

[Footnote 97: _Be behind the second rank_)--Ver. 780. “Post principia.” The Captain, with that discretion which is the better part of valor, chooses the safest place in his army. The “principes” originally fought in the van, fronting the enemy, and behind them were the “hastati” and the “triarii.” In later times the “hastati” faced the enemy, and the “principes” were placed in the middle, between them and the “triarii;” but though no longer occupying the front place, they still retained the name. Thraso, then, places himself behind the middle line.]

[Footnote 98: _Pyrrhus used to proceed_)--Ver. 782. He attempts to defend his cowardice by the example of Pyrrhus, the powerful antagonist of the Romans, and one of the greatest generals of antiquity. He might have more correctly cited the example of Xerxes, who, according to Justin, did occupy that position in his army.]

[Footnote 99: _I could very much_)--Ver. 785. Although Vollbehr gives these words to Gnatho, yet, judging from the context, and the words “ex occulto,” and remembering that Thais and Chremes are up at the window, there is the greatest probability that these are really the words of Thais addressed aside to Chremes.]

[Footnote 100: _You gallows-bird_)--Ver. 797. “Furcifer;” literally, “bearer of the furca.”]

[Footnote 101: _As befits gallant soldiers_)--Ver. 814. Beaumont and Fletcher not improbably had this scene in view in their picture of the mob regiment in Philaster. The ragged regiment which Shakspeare places under the command of Falstaff was not very unlike it, nor that which owned the valiant Bombastes Furioso as its Captain.]

[Footnote 102: _At Antipho’s_)--Ver. 839. Madame Dacier here observes that Chærea assigns very natural reasons for not having changed his dress; in which the art of Terence is evident, since the sequel of the Play makes it absolutely necessary that Chærea should appear again before Thais in the habit which he wore while in the house.]

[Footnote 103: _Pick daintily about_)--Ver. 935. He seems here to reprehend the same practice against which Ovid warns his fair readers, in his Art of Love, B. iii. l. 75. He says, “Do not first take food at home,” when about to go to an entertainment. Westerhovius seems to think that “ligurio” means, not to “pick daintily,” but “to be fond of good eating;” and refers to the Bacchides of Plautus as portraying courtesans of the “ligurient” kind, and finds another specimen in Bacchis in the Heautontimorumenos.]

[Footnote 104: _This advantage_)--Ver. 970. Donatus here observes that the Poet introduces Laches, as he has Parmeno just before, in a state of perfect tranquillity, that their sudden change of feeling may be the more diverting to the Audience.]

[Footnote 105: _For some occasion_)--Ver. 999. We learn from Donatus that Menander was more explicit concerning the resentment of Laches against Thais, on account of her having corrupted Phædria.]

[Footnote 106: _As I knew_)--Ver. 1003. She enjoyed it the more, knowing that the old man had nothing to fear, as he had just heard the fiction which she had imparted to Parmeno. Donatus observes that the terror of Laches accounts for his sudden consent to the union of Chærea with Pamphila; for though he could not settle the matter any other way with credit, he was glad to find that his son had made an unequal match rather than endangered his life. Colman, however, observes with considerable justice: “I think Chærea apologizes still better for this arrangement in the Scene with Thais at the opening of this Act, where he says that he is confident of obtaining his father’s consent, provided Pamphila proves to be a citizen; and, indeed, the match between them is rather a reparation of an injury done to her than a degradation of himself.”]

[Footnote 107: _In return for that present of yours_)--Ver. 1022. By the present she means Chærea in the disguise of the Eunuch.]

[Footnote 108: _Through betrayal of myself_)--Ver. 1023. Which betrays itself by its own squeaking.]

[Footnote 109: _Hercules served Omphale_)--Ver. 1026. He alludes to the story of Omphale, Queen of Lydia, and Hercules. Being violently in love with her, the hero laid aside his club and boar’s skin, and in the habit of a woman plied the spindle and distaff with her maids. See a curious story of Omphale, Hercules, and Faunus, in the Fasti of Ovid, B. ii. l. 305. As to the reappearance of Thraso here, Colman has the following remarks: “Thraso, says Donatus, is brought back again in order to be admitted to some share in the good graces of Thais, that he may not be made unhappy at the end of the Play; but surely it is an essential part of the poetical justice of Comedy to expose coxcombs to ridicule and to punish them, though without any shocking severity, for their follies.”]

[Footnote 110: _With a slipper_)--Ver. 1027. He doubtless alludes to the treatment of Hercules by Omphale; and, according to Lucian, there was a story that Omphale used to beat him with her slipper or sandal. On that article of dress, see the Notes to the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 252.]

[Footnote 111: _To the patronage of my father_)--Ver. 1038. It was the custom at Athens for strangers, such as Thais was, to put themselves under the protection (in clientelam) of some wealthy citizen, who, as their patron, was bound to protect them against injury. An exactly parallel case to the present is found in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, l. 799, where the wealthy Periplecomenus says, “Habeo, eccillam, meam clientam, meretricem adolescentulam.” “Why, look, I have one, a dependent of mine, a courtesan, a very young woman.”]

[Footnote 112: _Been rolling that stone_)--Ver. 1084. Donatus thinks that he alludes to the story of Sisyphus, who, in the Infernal Regions, was condemned eternally to roll a stone up a hill, which, on arriving at the summit, immediately fell to the bottom.]

[Footnote 113: _Make him over to you_)--Ver. 1086. “Vobis propino.” The word “propino” was properly applied to the act of tasting a cup of wine, and then handing it to another; he means that he has had his taste of the Captain, and is now ready to hand him over to them.]

[Footnote 114: _He quite deserves it_)--Ver. 1087. Cooke has the following appropriate remark: “I can not think that this Play, excellent as it is in almost all other respects, concludes consistently with the manners of gentlemen; there is a meanness in Phædria and Chærea consenting to take Thraso into their society, with a view of fleecing him, which the Poet should have avoided.”]

* * * * * * * * *

HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS;

THE SELF-TORMENTOR.

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.

THE SUBJECT.

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.

THE TITLE OF THE PLAY.

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]

HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS;

THE SELF-TORMENTOR.

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.

THE PROLOGUE.

Lest it should be a matter of surprise to any one of you, why the Poet has assigned to an old man[12] 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 plot[15] 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 Poet[17] 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 Play[20] 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.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

_Enter CHREMES, and MENEDEMUS with a spade in his hand, who falls to digging._

CHREM. Although this acquaintanceship between us is of very recent date, from the time in fact of your purchasing an estate here in the neighborhood, yet either your good 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 movables[27] 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 Bacchus[30] 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._)

ACT THE SECOND.

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 pardoning[33] 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 words[34]-- 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 attendants[36] 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 weaving[41] 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 people}[46] 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 persons[48] 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._)

ACT THE THIRD.

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 satrap[52] 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 inlet[58] 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 perceive[60] 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 more[64]-- 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 way[69] 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._)

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

_Enter SOSTRATA and a NURSE in haste from the house of CHREMES, and CHREMES and SYRUS on the other side of the stage unperceived._

SOS. (_holding up a ring and examining it._) Unless my fancy deceives me, surely this is the ring which I suspect it to be, the same with which my daughter was exposed.

CHREM. (_apart._) Syrus, what is the meaning of these 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 loss[73] 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 without[74] 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 hopes[76] {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 be[77] 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] retribution[79] 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 asleep[84]-- 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 Bacchus[86] 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 law[88] 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._)

ACT THE FIFTH.

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 director[90] 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 offer[105] 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.

FOOTNOTES

[Footnote 1: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

[Footnote 2: From μενὸς, “strength,” and δῆμος, “the people.”]

[Footnote 3: From κλίνω, “to incline,” or from κλινὴ, “the marriage-bed.”]

[Footnote 4: From κλειτὸς, “illustrious,” and φῶς, “light.”]

[Footnote 5: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

[Footnote 6: From Syria, his native country.]

[Footnote 7: From σώζω, “to preserve,” or “save.”]

[Footnote 8: From ἀντὶ, “in return,” and φιλῶ, “to love.”]

[Footnote 9: From Bacchus, the God of Wine.]

[Footnote 10: From Phrygia, her native country.]

[Footnote 11: _Being Consuls_)--M. Juventius Thalna and Ti. Sempronius Gracchus were Consuls in the year from the Building of the City 589, and B.C. 164.]

[Footnote 12: _Assigned to an old man_)--Ver. 1. He refers to the fact that the Prologue was in general spoken by young men, whereas it is here spoken by L. Ambivius Turpio, the leader of the Company, a man stricken in years. The Prologue was generally not recited by a person who performed a character in the opening Scene.]

[Footnote 13: _That I will first explain to you_)--Ver. 3. His meaning seems to be, that he will first tell them the reason why he, who is to take a part in the opening Scene, speaks the Prologue, which is usually spoken by a young man who does not take part in that Scene; and that he will then proceed to speak in character (eloquor), as Chremes, in the first Scene. His reason for being chosen to speak the Prologue, is that he may be a pleader (orator) for the Poet, a task which would be likely to be better performed by him than by a younger man.]

[Footnote 14: _From an entire Greek one_)--Ver. 4. In contradistinction to such Plays as the Andria, as to which it was a subject of complaint that it had been formed out of a mixture (contaminatus) of the Andrian and Perinthian of Menander.]

[Footnote 15: _Which from a two-fold plot_)--Ver. 6. Vollbehr suggests that the meaning of this line is, that though it is but one Play, it has a two-fold plot-- the intrigues of two young men with two mistresses, and the follies of two old men. As this Play is supposed to represent the events of two successive days, the night intervening, it has been suggested that the reading is “duplex-- ex argumento-- simplici;” the Play is “two-fold, with but one plot,” as extending to two successive days. The Play derives its name from the Greek words, ἑαυτὸν, “himself,” and τιμωρουμενὸς, “tormenting.”]

[Footnote 16: _To be a Pleader_)--Ver. 11. He is to be the pleader and advocate of the Poet, to influence the Audience in his favor, and against his adversaries; and not to explain the plot of the Play. Colman has the following observation: “It is impossible not to regret that there are not above ten lines of the Self-Tormentor preserved among the Fragments of Menander. We are so deeply interested by what we see of that character in Terence, that one can not but be curious to inquire in what manner the Greek Poet sustained it through five Acts. The Roman author, though he has adopted the title of the Greek Play, has so altered the fable, that Menedemus is soon thrown into the background, and Chremes is brought forward as the principal object; or, to vary the allusion a little, the Menedemus of Terence seems to be a drawing in miniature copied from a full length, as large as the life, by Menander.”]

[Footnote 17: _A malevolent old Poet_)--Ver. 22. He alludes to his old enemy, Luscus Lavinius, referred to in the preceding Prologue.]

[Footnote 18: _The genius of his friends_)--Ver. 24. He alludes to a report which had been spread, that his friends Lælius and Scipio had published their own compositions under his name. Servilius is also mentioned by Eugraphius as another of his patrons respecting whom similar stories were circulated.]

[Footnote 19: _As he ran alone in the street_)--Ver. 31. He probably does not intend to censure this practice entirely in Comedy, but to remind the Audience that in some recent Play of Luscus Lavinius this had been the sole stirring incident introduced. Plautus introduces Mercury running in the guise of Sosia, in the fourth Scene of the Amphitryon, l. 987, and exclaiming, “For surely, why, faith, should I, a God, be any less allowed to threaten the public, if it doesn’t get out of my way, than a slave in the Comedies?” This practice can not, however, be intended to be here censured by Plautus, as he is guilty of it in three other instances. In the Mercator, Acanthio runs to his master Charinus, to tell him that his mistress Pasicompsa has been seen in the ship by his father Demipho; in the Stichus, Pinacium, a slave, runs to inform his mistress Philumena that her husband has arrived in port, on his return from Asia; and in the Mostellaria, Tranio, in haste, brings information of the unexpected arrival of Theuropides. The “currens servus” is also mentioned in the Prologue to the Andria, l. 36. See the soliloquy of Stasimus, in the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 1007.]

[Footnote 20: _A quiet Play_)--Ver. 36. “Statariam.” See the spurious Prologue to the Bacchides of Plautus, l. 10, and the Note to the passage in Bohn’s Translation. The Comedy of the Romans was either “stataria”, “motoria”, or “mixta”. “Stataria” was a Comedy which was calm and peaceable, such as the Cistellaria of Plautus; “motoria” was one full of action and disturbance, like his Amphitryon; while the “Comœdia mixta” was a mixture of both, such as the Eunuchus of Terence.]

[Footnote 21: _What in each character_)--Ver. 47. “In utramque partem ingenium quid possit meum.” This line is entirely omitted in Vollbehr’s edition; but it appears to be merely a typographical error.]

[Footnote 22: _How little work is done here_)--Ver. 72. Vollbehr thinks that his meaning is, that he is quite vexed to see so little progress made, in spite of his neighbor’s continual vexation and turmoil, and that, as he says in the next line, he is of opinion that if he were to cease working himself, and were to overlook his servants, he would get far more done. It is more generally thought to be an objection which Chremes suggests that Menedemus may possibly make.]

[Footnote 23: _I am a man_)--Ver. 77. “Homo sum: humani nihil a me alienum puto.” St. Augustine says, that at the delivery of this sentiment, the Theatre resounded with applause; and deservedly, indeed, for it is replete with the very essence of benevolence and disregard of self. Cicero quotes the passage in his work De Officiis, B. i., c. 9. The remarks of Sir Richard Steele upon this passage, in the Spectator, No. 502, are worthy to be transcribed at length. “The Play was the Self-Tormentor. It is from the beginning to the end a perfect picture of human life, but I did not observe in the whole one passage that could raise a laugh. How well-disposed must that people be, who could be entertained with satisfaction by so sober and polite mirth! In the first Scene of the Comedy, when one of the old men accuses the other of impertinence for interposing in his affairs, he answers, ‘I am a man, and can not help feeling any sorrow that can arrive at man.’ It is said this sentence was received with an universal applause. There can not be a greater argument of the general good understanding of a people, than their sudden consent to give their approbation of a sentiment which has no emotion in it. If it were spoken with ever so great skill in the actor, the manner of uttering that sentence could have nothing in it which could strike any but people of the greatest humanity-- nay, people elegant and skillful in observation upon it. It is possible that he may have laid his hand on his heart, and with a winning insinuation in his countenance, expressed to his neighbor that he was a man who made his case his own; yet I will engage, a player in Covent Garden might hit such an attitude a thousand times before he would have been regarded.”]

[Footnote 24: _Take off my shoes_)--Ver. 124. As to the “socci,” or low shoes of the ancients, see the Notes to the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 720, in Bohn’s Translation. It was the especial duty of certain slaves to take off the shoes of their masters.]

[Footnote 25: _To spread the couches_)--Ver. 125. The “lecti” or “couches” upon which the ancients reclined at meals, have been enlarged upon in the Notes to Plautus, where full reference is also made to the “coena” or “dinner,” and other meals of the Romans.]

[Footnote 26: _Provide me with dress_)--Ver. 130. It was the custom for the mistress and female servants in each family to make the clothes of the master. Thus in the Fasti of Ovid, B. ii., l. 746, Lucretia is found amidst her female servants, making a cloak, or “lacerna,” for her husband. Suetonius says that Augustus refused to wear any garments not woven by his female relations. Cooke seems to think that “vestiant” alludes to the very act of putting the clothes upon a person. He says, “The better sort of people had eating-dresses, which are here alluded to. These dresses were light garments, to put on as soon as they had bathed. They commonly bathed before eating, and the chief meal was in the evening.” This, however, does not seem to be the meaning of the passage, although Colman has adopted it. We may here remark that the censure here described is not unlike that mentioned in the Prologue to the Mercator of Plautus, as administered by Demænetus to his son Charinus.]

[Footnote 27: _Neither movables_)--Ver. 141. “Vas” is here used as a general name for articles of furniture. This line appears to be copied almost literally from one of Menander, which still exists.]

[Footnote 28: _To sell my house_)--Ver. 145. On the mode of advertising houses to let or be sold among the Romans, see the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 168, and the Note to the passage in Bohn’s Translation.]

[Footnote 29: _Toward your children_)--Ver. 151. The plural “liberos” is here used to signify the one son which Menedemus has. So in the Hecyra, l. 217, the same word is used to signify but one daughter. This was a common mode of expression in the times of the earlier Latin authors.]

[Footnote 30: _Festival of Bacchus, “Dionysia”_)--Ver. 162. It is generally supposed that there were four Festivals called the Dionysia, during the year, at Athens. The first was the Rural, or Lesser Dionysia, κατ᾽ ἀγροὺς, a vintage festival, which was celebrated in the “Demi” or boroughs of Attica, in honor of Bacchus, in the month Poseidon. This was the most ancient of the Festivals, and was held with the greatest merriment and freedom; the slaves then enjoyed the same amount of liberty as they did at the Saturnalia at Rome. The second Festival, which was called the Lensea, from ληνὸς, a wine-press, was celebrated in the month Gamelion, with Scenic contests in Tragedy and Comedy. The third Dionysian Festival was the Anthesteria, or “Spring feast,” being celebrated during three days in the month Anthesterion. The first day was called πιθοίγια, or “the Opening of the casks,” as on that day the casks were opened to taste the wine of the preceding year. The second day was called χοες, from χοῦς, “a cup,” and was probably devoted to drinking. The third day was called χυτροὶ, from χυτρὸς, “a pot,” as on it persons offered pots with flower-seeds or cooked vegetables to Dionysus or Bacchus. The fourth Attic festival of Dionysius was celebrated in the month Elaphebolion, and was called the Dionysia ἐν ἄστει, Αστικὰ, or Μεγαλὰ, the “City” or “great” festival. It was celebrated with great magnificence, processions and dramatic representations forming part of the ceremonial. From Greece, by way of Sicily, the Bacchanalia, or festivals of Bacchus, were introduced into Rome, where they became the scenes of and pretext for every kind of vice and debauchery, until at length they were put down in the year B.C. 187, with a strong hand, by the Consuls Spurius Posthumius Albinus and Q. Marcius Philippus; from which period the words “bacchor” and “bacchator” became synonymous with the practice of every kind of vice and turpitude that could outrage common decency. See a very full account of the Dionysia and the Bacchanalia in Dr. Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities.]

[Footnote 31: _Is of service to him_)--Ver. 199. He means that it is to the advantage of Clitipho that Clinia should be seen to stand in awe of his father.]

[Footnote 32: _Reasonable men_)--Ver. 205. “Homo,” “a man,” is here put for men in general who are fathers.]

[Footnote 33: _Of knowing and of pardoning_)--Ver. 218. There is a jingle intended here in the resemblance of the words “cognoscendi,” “knowing,” and “ignoscendi,” “pardoning.”]

[Footnote 34: _Is-- fair words_)--Ver. 228. “Recte est.” It is supposed that he pauses before uttering these words, which mean “very well,” or “very good,” implying the giving an assent without making a promise; he tells the reason, in saying that he has scruples or prejudices against confessing that he has got nothing to give her.]

[Footnote 35: _Great way from here_)--Ver. 239. That is, from the place where they are, in the country, to Athens.]

[Footnote 36: _Troop of female attendants_)--Ver. 245. The train and expenses of a courtesan of high station are admirably depicted in the speech of Lysiteles, in the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 252.]

[Footnote 37: _In a mourning dress_)--Ver. 286. Among the Greeks, in general, mourning for the dead seems to have lasted till the thirtieth day after the funeral, and during that period black dresses were worn. The Romans also wore mourning for the dead, which seems, in the time of the Republic, to have been black or dark blue for either sex. Under the Empire the men continued to wear black, but the women wore white. No jewels or ornaments were worn upon these occasions.]

[Footnote 38: _With no worthless woman’s trumpery_)--Ver. 289. By “nullâ malâ re muliebri” he clearly means that they did not find her painted up with the cosmetics which some women were in the habit of using. Such preparations for the face as white-lead, wax, antimony, or vermilion, well deserve the name of “mala res.” A host of these cosmetics will be found described in Ovid’s Fragment “On the Care of the Complexion,” and much information upon this subject is given in various passages in the Art of Love. In the Remedy of Love, l. 351, Ovid speaks of these practices in the following terms: “At the moment, too, when she shall be smearing her face with the cosmetics laid up on it, you may come into the presence of your mistress, and don’t let shame prevent you. You will find there boxes, and a thousand colors of objects; and you will see ‘oesypum,’ the ointment of the fleece, trickling down and flowing upon her heated bosom. These drugs, Phineus, smell like thy tables; not once alone has sickness been caused by this to my stomach.” Lucretius also, in his Fourth Book, l. 1168, speaks of a female who “covers herself with noxious odors, and whom her female attendants fly from to a distance, and chuckle by stealth.” See also the Mostellaria of Plautus, Act I., Scene 3, l. 135, where Philematium is introduced making her toilet on the stage.]

[Footnote 39: _Do hold your peace_)--Ver. 291. “Pax,” literally “peace!” in the sense of “Hush!” “Be quiet!” See the Notes to the Trinummus of Plautus, ll. 889-891, in Bohn’s Translation.]

[Footnote 40: _The woof_)--Ver. 293. See an interesting passage on the ancient weaving, in the Metamorphoses of Ovid, B. vi., l. 54, _et seq._ See also the Epistle of Penelope to Ulysses, in the Heroides of Ovid, l. 10, and the Note in Bohn’s English Translation.]

[Footnote 41: _She was weaving_)--Ver. 294. This line and part of the next are supposed to have been translated almost literally from some lines, the composition of Menander, which are still extant.]

[Footnote 42: _Your Bacchis, whom we are bringing_)--Ver. 310. Colman has the following remark: “Here we enter upon the other part of the table, which the Poet has most artfully complicated with the main subject by making Syrus bring Clitipho’s mistress along with Antiphila. This part of the story, we know, was not in Menander.”]

[Footnote 43: _Incur this risk_)--Ver. 337. As to his own mistress.]

[Footnote 44: _Upon either ear_)--Ver. 342. “In aurem utramvis,” a proverbial expression, implying an easy and secure repose. It is also used by Plautus, and is found in a fragment of the Πλοκιὸν, or Necklace, a Comedy of Menander.]

[Footnote 45: _Still do that which I said_)--Ver. 346. “Perge porro, tamen istue ago.” Stallbaum observes that the meaning is: “Although I’m going off, I’m still attending to what you’re saying.” According to Schmieder and others, it means: “Call on just as you please, I shall persist in sending Bacchis away.”]

[Footnote 46: _Such great people_)--Ver. 363. “Quos,” literally, “What persons!”]

[Footnote 47: _Words of double meaning_)--Ver. 372. “Inversa verba, eversas cervices tuas.” “Inversa verba” clearly means, words with a double meaning, or substituted for others by previous arrangement, like correspondence by cipher. Lucretius uses the words in this sense, B. i., l. 643. A full account of the secret signs and correspondence in use among the ancients will be found in the 16th and 17th Epistles of the Heroides of Ovid, in his Amours, B. i., El. 4, and in various passages of the Art of Love. See also the Asinaria of Plautus, l. 780. It is not known for certain what “eversa cervix” here means; it may mean the turning of the neck in some particular manner by way of a hint or to give a sidelong look, or it may allude to the act of snatching a kiss on the sly, which might lead to a discovery.]

[Footnote 48: _A man whose manners-- those persons_)--Ver. 393. “Cujus-- hi;” a change of number by the use of the figure Enallage.]

[Footnote 49: _I can scarce endure it_)--Ver. 400. Colman has the following remark on this passage: “Madame Dacier, contrary to the authority of all editions and MSS., adopts a conceit of her father’s in this place, and places this speech to Clitipho, whom she supposes to have retired to a hiding-place, where he might overhear the conversation, and from whence he peeps out to make this speech to Syrus. This she calls an agreeable _jeu de théâtre_, and doubts not but all lovers of Terence will be obliged to her father for so ingenious a remark; but it is to be feared that critical sagacity will not be so lavish of acknowledgments as filial piety. There does not appear the least foundation for this remark in the Scene, nor has the Poet given us the least room to doubt of Clitipho being actually departed. To me, instead of an agreeable {jeu de théâtre}, it appears a most absurd and ridiculous device; particularly vicious in this place, as it most injudiciously tends to interrupt the course of Clinia’s more interesting passion, so admirably delineated in this little Scene.”]

[Footnote 50: _It is now daybreak_)--Ver. 410. Though this is the only Play which includes more than one day in the action, it is not the only one in which the day is represented as breaking. The Amphitryon and the Curculio of Plautus commence before daybreak, and the action is carried on into the middle of the day. Madame Dacier absolutely considers it {as a fact beyond all doubt}, that the Roman Audience went home after the first two Acts of the Play, and returned for the representation of the third the next morning at daybreak. Scaliger was of the same opinion; but it is not generally entertained by Commentators.]

[Footnote 51: _How I was affected_)--Ver. 436. “Ut essem,” literally, “How I was.”]

[Footnote 52: _If a satrap_)--Ver. 452. “Satrapa” was a Persian word signifying “a ruler of a province.” The name was considered as synonymous with “possessor of wealth almost inexhaustible.”]

[Footnote 53: _In tasting only_)--Ver. 457. “Pytiso” was the name given to the nasty practice of tasting wine, and then spitting it out; offensive in a man, but infinitely more so in a woman. It seems in those times to have been done by persons who wished to give themselves airs in the houses of private persons; at the present day it is probably confined to wine-vaults and sale-rooms where wine is put up to auction, and even there it is practiced much more than is either necessary or agreeable. Doubtless Bacchis did it to show her exquisite taste in the matter of wines.]

[Footnote 54: _Is too acid_)--Ver. 458. “Asperum;” meaning that the wine was not old enough for her palate. The great fault of the Greek wines was their tartness, for which reason sea-water was mixed with them all except the Chian, which was the highest class of wine.]

[Footnote 55: _Respected sir_)--Ver. 459. “Pater,” literally “father;” a title by which the young generally addressed aged persons who were strangers to them.]

[Footnote 56: _All the casks, all the vessels_)--Ver. 460. “Dolia omnia, omnes serias.” The finer kinds of wine were drawn off from the “dolia,” or large vessels, into the “amphoræ,” which, like the “dolia,” were made of earth, and sometimes of glass. The mouths of the vessels were stopped tight by a plug of wood or cork, which was made impervious to the atmosphere by being rubbed over with a composition of pitch, clay, wax, or gypsum. On the outside, the title of the wine was painted, and among the Romans the date of the vintage was denoted by the names of the Consuls then in office. When the vessels were of glass, small tickets or labels, called “pittacia,” were suspended from them, stating to a similar effect. The “seriæ” were much the same as the “dolia,” perhaps somewhat smaller; they were both long, bell-mouthed vessels of earthen-ware, formed of the best clay, and lined with pitch while hot from the furnace. “Seriæ” were also used to contain oil and other liquids; and in the Captivi of Plautus the word is applied to pans used for the purpose of salting meat. “Relino” signifies the act of taking the seal of pitch or wax off the stopper of the wine-vessel.]

[Footnote 57: _With that servant of yours_)--Ver. 473. Dromo.]

[Footnote 58: _What an inlet_)--Ver. 482. “Fenestram;” literally, “a window.”]

[Footnote 59: _This night with my eyes_)--Ver. 491. Colman has the following Note here: “Hedelin obstinately contends from this passage, that neither Chremes nor any of his family went to bed the whole night; the contrary of which is evident, as Menage observes, from the two next Scenes. For why should Syrus take notice of his being up so early, if he had never retired to rest? Or would Chremes have reproached Clitipho for his behavior the night before, had the feast never been interrupted? Eugraphius’s interpretation of these words is natural and obvious, who explains them to signify that the anxiety of Chremes to restore Clinia to Menedemus broke his rest.”]

[Footnote 60: _That they may not perceive_)--Ver. 511. Madame Dacier observes that Chremes seizes this as a very plausible and necessary pretense to engage Menedemus to return home, and not to his labors in the field, as he had at first intended.]

[Footnote 61: _Old age of an eagle_)--Ver. 521. This was a proverbial expression, signifying a hale and vigorous old age. It has been suggested, too, that it alludes to the practice of some old men, who drink more than they eat. It was vulgarly said that eagles never die of old age, and that when, by reason of their beaks growing inward, they are unable to feed upon their prey, they live by sucking the blood.]

[Footnote 62: _Not like those of former days_)--Ver. 524. Syrus, by showing himself an admirer of the good old times, a “laudator temporis acti,” is wishful to flatter the vanity of Chremes, as it is a feeling common to old age, perhaps by no means an unamiable one, to think former times better than the present. Aged people feel grateful to those happy hours when their hopes were bright, and every thing was viewed from the sunny side of life.]

[Footnote 63: _Can no longer support her expenses_)--Ver. 544. He refers to Menedemus and Bacchis.]

[Footnote 64: _But in case, none the more_)--Ver. 555. “Sed si quid, ne quid.” An instance of Aposiopesis, signifying “But if any thing does happen, don’t you blame me.”]

[Footnote 65: _And truly, Chremes_)--Ver. 557. Some suppose that this is said in apparent candor by Syrus, in order the more readily to throw Chremes off his guard. Other Commentators, again, fancy these words to be said by Syrus in a low voice, aside, which seems not improbable; it being a just retribution on Chremes for his recommendation, however well intended: in that case, Chremes probably overhears it, if we may judge from his answer.]

[Footnote 66: _’Tis the truth_)--Ver. 568. “Factum.” “Done for” is anothor translation which this word will here admit of.]

[Footnote 67: _That he does the same_)--Ver. 577. Clinia.]

[Footnote 68: _Of a prudent and discreet person_)--Ver. 580. This is said ironically.]

[Footnote 69: _Is there but one way_)--Ver. 583. And that an immodest one.]

[Footnote 70: _With your wife_)--Ver. 604. Madame Dacier remarks, that as Antiphila is shortly to be acknowledged as the daughter of Chremes, she is not therefore in company with the other women at the feast, who are Courtesans, but with the wife of Chremes, and consequently free from reproach or scandal.]

[Footnote 71: _Would she really be a security_)--Ver. 606. The question of Chremes seems directed to the fact whether the girl is of value sufficient to be good security for the thousand drachmæ.]

[Footnote 72: _You shall soon know_)--Ver. 612. Madame Dacier suggests that Chremes is prevented by his wife’s coming from making a proposal to advance the money himself, on the supposition that it will be a lucrative speculation. This notion is contradicted by Colman, who adds the following note from Eugraphius: “Syrus pretends to have concerted this plot against Menedemus, in order to trick him out of some money to be given to Clinia’s supposed mistress. Chremes, however, does not approve of this: yet it serves to carry on the plot; for when Antiphila proves afterward to be the daughter of Chremes, he necessarily becomes the debtor of Bacchis, and is obliged to lay down the sum for which he imagines his daughter is pledged.”]

[Footnote 73: _Has gained a loss_)--Ver. 628. He alludes to Clitipho, who, by the discovery of his sister, would not come in for such a large share of his father’s property, and would consequently, as Syrus observes, gain a loss.]

[Footnote 74: _That she might not be without_)--Ver. 652. Madame Dacier observes upon this passage, that the ancients thought themselves guilty of a heinous offense if they suffered their children to die without having bestowed on them some of their property; it was consequently the custom of the women, before exposing children, to attach to them some jewel or trinket among their clothes, hoping thereby to avoid incurring the guilt above mentioned, and to ease their consciences.]

[Footnote 75: _Saving of yourself and her_)--Ver. 653. Madame Dacier says that the meaning of this passage is this: Chremes tells his wife that by having given this ring, she has done two good acts instead of one-- she has both cleared her conscience and saved the child; for had there been no ring or token exposed with the infant, the finder would not have been at the trouble of taking care of it, but might have left it to perish, never suspecting it would be inquired after, or himself liberally rewarded for having preserved it.]

[Footnote 76: _I see more hopes_)--Ver. 659. Syrus is now alarmed that Antiphila should so soon be acknowledged as the daughter of Chremes, lest he may lose the opportunity of obtaining the money, and be punished as well, in case the imposition is detected, and Bacchis discovered to be the mistress of Clitipho and not of Clinia.]

[Footnote 77: _A man can not be_)--Ver. 666. This he says by way of palliating the cruelty he was guilty of in his orders to have the child put to death.]

[Footnote 78: _Unless my fancy deceives me_)--Ver. 668. “Nisi me animus fallit.” He comically repeats the very same words with which Sostrata commenced in the last Scene.]

[Footnote 79: _Retribution_)--Ver. 668. “Infortunium!” was the name by which the slaves commonly denoted a beating. Colman has the following remark here: “Madame Dacier, and most of the later critics who have implicitly followed her, tell us that in the interval between the third and fourth Acts, Syrus has been present at the interview between Chremes and Antiphila within. The only difficulty in this doctrine is how to reconcile it to the apparent ignorance of Syrus, which he discovers at the entrance of Clinia. But this objection, says she, is easily answered. Syrus having partly heard Antiphila’s story, and finding things likely to take an unfavorable turn, retires to consider what is best to be done. But surely this is a most unnatural impatience at so critical a conjuncture; and, after all, would it not be better to take up the matter just where Terence has left it, and to suppose that Syrus knew nothing more of the affair than what might be collected from the late conversation between Chremes and Sostrata, at which we know he was present? This at once accounts for his apprehensions, which he betrayed even during that Scene, as well as for his imperfect knowledge of the real state of the case, till apprised of the whole by Clinia.”]

[Footnote 80: _With my sides covered_)--Ver. 673. He most probably alludes to the custom of tying up the slaves by their hands, after stripping them naked, when of course their “latera” or “sides” would be exposed, and come in for a share of the lashes.]

[Footnote 81: _Runaway money_)--Ver. 678. “Fugitivum argentum.” Madame Dacier suggests that this is a bad translation of the words of Menander, which were “ἀποστρέψειν τὸν δραπέταν χρυσὸν” where “χρυσὸς” signified both “gold” and the name of a slave.]

[Footnote 82: _If the sky were to fall_)--Ver. 719. He means those who create unnecessary difficulties in their imagination. Colman quotes the following remark from Patrick: “There is a remarkable passage in Arrian’s Account of Alexander, lib. iv., where he tells us that some embassadors from the Celtic, being asked by Alexander what in the world they dreaded most, answered, ‘That they feared lest the sky should fall [upon them].’ Alexander, who expected to hear himself named, was surprised at an answer which signified that they thought themselves beyond the reach of all human power, plainly implying that nothing could hurt them, unless he would suppose impossibilities, or a total destruction of nature.” Aristotle, in his Physics, B. iv., informs us that it was the early notion of ignorant nations that the sky was supported on the shoulders of Atlas, and that when he let go of it, it would fall.]

[Footnote 83: _To a very fine purpose_)--Ver. 723. “Satis pol proterve,” &c. C. Lælius was said to have assisted Terence in the composition of his Plays, and in confirmation of this, the following story is told by Cornelius Nepos: “C. Lælius, happening to pass the Matronalia [a Festival on the first of March, when the husband, for once in the year, was bound to obey the wife] at his villa near Puteoli, was told that dinner was waiting, but still neglected the summons. At last, when he made his appearance, he excused himself by saying that he had been in a particular vein of composition, and quoted certain lines which occur in the Heautontimorumenos, namely, those beginning ‘Satis pol proterve me Syri promissa huc induxerunt.’”]

[Footnote 84: _They’re asleep_)--Ver. 730. “Dormiunt.” This is clearly used figuratively, though Hedelin interprets it literally.]

[Footnote 85: _Farm here on the right-hand side_)--Ver. 732. Cooke suggests that the Poet makes Bacchis call the house of Charinus “villa,” and that of Chremes “fundus” (which signifies “a farm-house,” or “farm”), for the purpose of exalting the one and depreciating the other in the hearing of Syrus.]

[Footnote 86: _The feast of Bacchus_)--Ver. 733. This passage goes far to prove that the Dionysia here mentioned as being celebrated, were those κατ᾽ ἀγρους, or the “rural Dionysia.”]

[Footnote 87: _Let’s be going_)--Ver. 742. Colman here remarks to the following effect: “There is some difficulty in this and the next speech in the original, and the Commentators have been puzzled to make sense of them. It seems to me that the Poet’s intention is no more than this: Bacchis expresses some reluctance to act under the direction of Syrus, but is at length prevailed on, finding that he can by those means contrive to pay her the money which he has promised her.”]

[Footnote 88: _Rigorous law_)--Ver. 796. Cicero mentions the same proverb in his work De Officiis, B. i., ch. 10, substituting the word “injuria” for “malitia.” “‘Extreme law, extreme injustice,’ is now become a stale proverb in discourse.” The same sentiment is found in the Fragments of Menander.]

[Footnote 89: _Are sanctioned by custom_)--Ver. 839. He inveighs, perhaps justly, against the tyranny of custom; but in selecting this occasion for doing so, he does not manifest any great affection for his newly-found daughter.]

[Footnote 90: _Assistant, prompter, and director_)--Ver. 875. The three terms here used are borrowed from the stage. “Adjutor” was the person who assisted the performers either by voice or gesture; “monitor” was the prompter; and “præmonstrator” was the person who in the rehearsal trained the actor in his part.]

[Footnote 91: _Dolt, post, ass_)--Ver. 877. There is a similar passage in the Bacchides of Plautus, l. 1087. “Whoever there are in any place whatsoever, whoever have been, and whoever shall be in time to come, fools, blockheads, idiots, dolts, sots, oafs, lubbers, I singly by far exceed them all in folly and absurd ways.”]

[Footnote 92: _Mould the countenances of people_)--Ver. 887. He means that Syrus not only lays his plots well, but teaches the performers to put on countenances suitable to the several parts they are to act.]

[Footnote 93: _Has moulded your son_)--Ver. 898. “Mire finxit.” He sarcastically uses the same word, “fingo,” which Chremes himself employed in l. 887.]

[Footnote 94: _Substance to suffice for ten days_)--Ver. 909. “Familia” here means “property,” as producing sustenance. Colman, however, has translated the passage: “Mine is scarce a ten-days’ family.”]

[Footnote 95: _ His she-friend rather_)--Ver. 911. Menedemus speaks of “amico,” a male friend, which Chremes plays upon by saying “amicae,” which literally meant a she-friend, and was the usual name by which decent people called a mistress.]

[Footnote 96: _And forsake you_)--Ver. 924. Madame Dacier observes here, that one of the great beauties of this Scene consists in Chremes retorting on Menedemus the very advice given by himself at the beginning of the Play.]

[Footnote 97: _Which he has done to me_)--Ver. 954. Colman has the following Note: “The departure of Menedemus here is very abrupt, seeming to be in the midst of a conversation; and his re-entrance with Clitipho, already supposed to be apprised of what has passed between the two old gentlemen, is equally precipitate. Menage imagines that some verses are lost here. Madame Dacier strains hard to defend the Poet, and fills up the void of time by her old expedient of making the Audience wait to see Chremes walk impatiently to and fro, till a sufficient time is elapsed for Menedemus to have given Clitipho a summary account of the cause of his father’s anger. The truth is, that a too strict observance of the unity of place will necessarily produce such absurdities; and there are several other instances of the like nature in Terence.”]

[Footnote 98: _Intrusted every thing_)--Ver. 966. This is an early instance of a trusteeship and a guardianship.]

[Footnote 99: _It’s all over_)--Ver. 974. “Ilicet,” literally, “you may go away.” This was the formal word with which funeral ceremonies and trials at law were concluded.]

[Footnote 100: _Look out for an altar_)--Ver. 975. He alludes to the practice of slaves taking refuge at altars when they had committed any fault, and then suing for pardon through a “precator” or “mediator.” See the Mostellaria of Plautus, l. 1074, where Tranio takes refuge at the altar from the vengeance of his master, Theuropides.]

[Footnote 101: _Amounts to the same thing_)--Ver. 1010. “Quam quidem redit ad integrum eadem oratio;” meaning, “it amounts to one and the same thing,” or, “it is all the same thing,” whether you do or whether you don’t know.]

[Footnote 102: _Because my daughter has been found_)--Ver. 1018. This sentence has given much trouble to the Commentators. Colman has the following just remarks upon it: “Madame Dacier, as well as all the rest of the Commentators, has stuck at these words. Most of them imagine she means to say, that the discovery of Antiphila is a plain proof that she is not barren. Madame Dacier supposes that she intimates such a proof to be easy, because Clitipho and Antiphila were extremely alike; which sense she thinks immediately confirmed by the answer of Chremes. I can not agree with any of them, and think that the whole difficulty of the passage here, as in many other places, is entirely of their own making. Sostrata could not refer to the reply of Chremes, because she could not possibly tell what it would be; but her own speech is intended as an answer to his preceding one, which she takes as a sneer on her late wonderful discovery of a daughter; imagining that he means to insinuate that she could at any time with equal ease make out the proofs of the birth of her son. The elliptical mode of expression so usual with Terence, together with the refinements of Commentators, seem to have created all the obscurity.”]

[Footnote 103: _By your profligacy_)--Ver. 1036. It is probably this ebullition of Comic anger which is referred to by Horace, in his Art of Poetry:

“Interdum tamen et vocem Comœdia tollit, Iratusque Chremes tumido delitigat ore:”

“Yet sometimes Comedy as well raises her voice, and enraged Chremes censures in swelling phrase.”]

[Footnote 104: _I don’t know as to the Gods_)--Ver. 1037. “Deos nescio.” The Critic Lambinis, in his letter to Charles the Ninth of France, accuses Terence of impiety in this passage. Madame Dacier has, however, well observed, that the meaning is not “I care not for the Gods,” but “I know not what the Gods will do.”]

[Footnote 105: _And close with the offer_)--Ver. 1048. “Firmas.” This ratification or affirmation would be made by Menedemus using the formal word “Accipio,” “I accept.”]

[Footnote 106: _Freckled face_)--Ver. 1060. Many take “sparso ore” here to mean “wide-mouthed.” Lemonnier thinks that must be the meaning, as he has analyzed the other features of her countenance. There is, however, no reason why he should not speak of her complexion; and it seems, not improbably, to have the same meaning as the phrase “os lentiginosum,” “a freckled face.”]

* * * * * * * * *

ADELPHI; THE BROTHERS,

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

DEMEA,[1] Brother, aged Athenian. MICIO,[2] Brother, aged Athenian. HEGIO,[3] an aged Athenian, kinsman of Sostrata. ÆSCHINUS,[4] son of Demea, adopted by Micio. CTESIPHO,[5] another son of Demea. SANNIO,[6] a Procurer. GETA,[7] servant of Sostrata. PARMENO,[8] servant of Micio. SYRUS,[9] servant of Micio. DROMO,[10] servant of Micio. PAMPHILA,[11] a young woman beloved by Æschinus. SOSTRATA,[12] a widow, mother of Pamphila. CANTHARA,[13] a Nurse. A Music-girl.

_Scene._--Athens; before the houses of MICIO and SOSTRATA.

THE SUBJECT.

MICIO and DEMEA are two brothers of dissimilar tempers. Demea is married, and lives a country life, while his brother remains single, and resides in Athens. Demea has two sons, the elder of whom, Æschinus, has been adopted by Micio. Being allowed by his indulgent uncle to gratify his inclinations without restraint, Æschinus has debauched Pamphila, the daughter of a widow named Sostrata. Having, however, promised to marry the young woman, he has been pardoned for the offense, and it has been kept strictly secret. Ctesipho, who lives in the country with his father under great restraint, on visiting the city, falls in love with a certain Music-girl, who belongs to the Procurer Sannio. To screen his brother, Æschinus takes the responsibility of the affair on himself, and succeeds in carrying off the girl for him. Demea, upon hearing of this, censures Micio for his ill-timed indulgence, the bad effects of which are thus exemplified in Æschinus; and at the same time lauds the steady conduct and frugality of Ctesipho, who has been brought up under his own supervision. Shortly after this, Sostrata hears the story about the Music-girl, at the very time that her daughter Pamphila is in labor. She naturally supposes that Æschinus has deserted her daughter for another, and hastens to acquaint Hegio, her kinsman, with the fact. Meantime Demea learns that Ctesipho has taken part in carrying off the Music-girl, whereon Syrus invents a story, and screens Ctesipho for the moment. Demea is next informed by Hegio of the conduct of Æschinus toward Pamphila. Wishing to find his brother, he is purposely sent on a fruitless errand by Syrus, on which he wanders all over the city to no purpose. Micio having now been informed by Hegio, and knowing that the intentions of Æschinus toward Pamphila are not changed, accompanies him to the house of Sostrata, whom he consoles by his promise that Æschinus shall marry her daughter. Demea then returns from his search, and, rushing into Micio’s house, finds his son Ctesipho there carousing; on which he exclaims vehemently against Micio, who uses his best endeavors to soothe him, and finally with success. He now determines to become kind and considerate for the future. At his request, Pamphila is brought to Micio’s house; and the nuptials are celebrated. Micio, at the earnest request of Demea and Æschinus, marries Sostrata; Hegio has a competency allowed him; and Syrus and his wife Phrygia are made free. The Play concludes with a serious warning from Demea, who advises his relatives not to squander their means in riotous living; but, on the contrary, to bear admonition and to submit to restraint in a spirit of moderation and thankfulness.

THE TITLE OF THE PLAY.

Performed at the Funeral Games of Æmilius Paulus,[14] which were celebrated by Q. Fabius Maximus and P. Cornelius Africanus. L. Atilius Prænestinus and Minutius Prothimus performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius, composed the music for Sarranian flutes.[15] Taken from the Greek of Menander, L. Anicius and M. Cornelius being Consuls.[16]

ADELPHI; THE BROTHERS.

THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.

As Demea has two {sons}, young men, he gives Æschinus to his brother Micio to be adopted {by him}; but he retains Ctesipho: him, captivated with the charms of a Music-girl, {and} under a harsh and strict father, his brother Æschinus screens; the scandal of the affair and the amour he takes upon himself; at last, he carries the Music-girl away from the Procurer. This same Æschinus has {previously} debauched a poor woman, a citizen of Athens, and has given his word that she shall be his wife. Demea upbraids him, {and} is greatly vexed; afterward, however, when the truth is discovered, Æschinus marries {the girl} who has been debauched; {and}, his harsh father Demea {now} softened, Ctesipho retains the Music-girl.

THE PROLOGUE.

Since the Poet has found that his writings are carped at by unfair {critics}, and that his adversaries represent in a bad light {the Play} that we are about to perform, he shall give information about himself; you shall be the judges whether this ought to be esteemed to his praise or to his discredit. The Synapothnescontes[17] is a Comedy of Diphilus;[18] Plautus made it into a Play {called} the “Commorientes.” In the Greek, there is a young man, who, at the early part of the Play, carries off a Courtesan from a Procurer; that part Plautus has entirely left out. This portion he has adopted in the Adelphi, {and} has transferred it, translated word for word. This new {Play} we are about to perform; determine {then} whether you think a theft has been committed, or a passage has been restored to notice which has been passed over in neglect. For as to what these malevolent persons say, that men of noble rank assist him, and are always writing in conjunction with him-- that which they deem to be a heavy crimination, he takes to be the highest praise; since he pleases those who please you all and the public; the aid of whom in war, in peace, in private business,[19] each one has availed himself of, on his own occasion, without {any} haughtiness {on their part}. Now then, do not expect the plot of the Play; the old men[20] who come first will disclose it in part; a part in the representation they will make known. Do you cause your impartial attention to increase the industry of the Poet in writing.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

_Enter MICIO, calling to a servant within._

MIC. Storax! Æschinus has not returned {home} from the entertainment last night, nor any of the servants who went to fetch him.[21] (_To himself._) Really, they say it with reason, if you are absent any where, or if you stay abroad at any time, ’twere better for that to happen which {your} wife says against you, and which in her passion she imagines in her mind, than the things which fond parents {fancy}. A wife, if you stay long abroad, either imagines that you are in love or are beloved, or that you are drinking and indulging your inclination, and that you only are taking your pleasure, while she herself is miserable. As for myself, in consequence of my son not having returned home, what do I imagine? In what ways am I not disturbed? For fear lest he may either have taken cold,[22] or have fallen down somewhere, or have broken some {limb}. Oh dear! that any man should take it into his head, or find out what is dearer {to him} than he is to himself! And yet he is not my son, but my brother’s. He is quite different in disposition. I, from my very youth upward, have lived a comfortable town life, and {taken} my ease; and, what they esteem a piece of luck, I have never had a wife. He, on the contrary to all this, has spent his life in the country, {and} has always lived laboriously and penuriously. He married a wife, {and} has two sons. This one, the elder of them, I have adopted. I have brought him up from an infant, {and} considered {and} loved him as my own. In him I centre my delight; this {object} alone is dear to me. On the other hand, I take all due care that he may hold me equally dear. I give-- I overlook; I do not judge it necessary to exert my authority in every thing; in fine, the things that youth prompts to, {and} that others do unknown to their fathers, I have used my son not to conceal from me. For he, who, as the practice is, will dare to tell a lie to or to deceive his father, will still more dare {to do so} to others. I think it better to restrain children through a sense of shame and liberal treatment, than through fear. On these points my brother does not agree with me, nor do they please him. He often comes to me exclaiming, “What are you about, Micio? Why do you ruin for us this youth? Why does he intrigue? Why does he drink? Why do you supply him with the means for these goings on? You indulge him with too much dress; you are very inconsiderate.” He himself is too strict, beyond what is just and reasonable; and he is very much mistaken, in my opinion, at all events, who thinks that an authority is more firm or more lasting which is established by force, than that which is founded on affection. Such is my mode of reasoning; and thus do I persuade myself. He, who, compelled by harsh treatment, does his duty, so long as he thinks it will be known, is on his guard: if he hopes that it will be concealed, he again returns to his natural bent. He whom you have secured by kindness, acts from inclination; he is anxious to return like for like; present and absent, he will be the same. This is the duty of a parent, to accustom a son to do what is right rather of his own choice, than through fear of another. In this the father differs from the master: he who can not do this, let him confess that he does not know how to govern children. But is not this the very man of whom I was speaking? Surely it is he. I don’t know why it is I see him out of spirits; I suppose he’ll now be scolding as usual. Demea, I am glad to see you well.[23]

SCENE II.

_Enter DEMEA._

DEM. Oh,-- opportunely met; you are the very man I was looking for.[24]

MIC. Why are you out of spirits?

DEM. Do you ask me, when we have {such a son as} Æschinus,[25] why I’m out of spirits?

MIC. (_aside._) Did I not say it would be so? (_To DEMEA._) What has he been doing?

DEM. What has he been doing? He, who is ashamed of nothing, and fears no one, nor thinks that any law can control him. But I pass by what has been previously done: what a thing he has just perpetrated!

MIC. Why, what is it?

DEM. He has broken open a door,[26] and forced his way into another person’s house, beaten to death the master himself, and all the household, {and} carried off a wench whom he had a fancy for. All people are exclaiming that it was a most disgraceful proceeding. How many, Micio, told me of this as I was coming here? It is in every body’s mouth. In fine, if an example must be cited, does he not see his brother giving his attention to business, {and} living frugally and soberly in the country? No action of his {is} like this. When I say this to him, Micio, I say it to you. You allow him to be corrupted.

MIC. Never is there any thing more unreasonable than a man who wants experience, who thinks nothing right except what he himself has done.

DEM. What is the meaning of that?

MIC. Because, Demea, you misjudge these matters. It is no heinous crime, believe me, for a young man to intrigue or to drink; it is not; nor yet for him to break open a door. If neither I nor you did so, it was poverty that did not allow us to do {so}. Do you now claim that as a merit to yourself, which you then did from necessity? That is unfair; for if we had had the means to do so, we should have done {the same}. And, if you were a man, you would now suffer that {other son} of yours to act {thus} now, while his age will excuse it, rather than, when he has got you, after long wishing it, out of the way, he should still do {so}, at a future day, {and} at an age more unsuited.

DEM. O Jupiter! You, sir, are driving me to distraction. Is it not a heinous thing for a young man to do these things?

MIC. Oh! do listen to me, and do not everlastingly din me upon this subject. You gave me your son to adopt; he became mine; if he offends in any thing, Demea, he offends against me: in that case I shall bear the greater part {of the inconvenience}. Does he feast,[27] does he drink, does he smell of perfumes,[28]-- it is at my cost. Does he intrigue, money shall be found by me, so long as it suits me; when it shall be no {longer convenient}, probably he’ll be shut out of doors.[29] Has he broken open a door-- it shall be replaced; has he torn any one’s clothes-- they shall be mended. Thanks to the Gods, I both have means for doing this, and {these things} are not as yet an annoyance. In fine, either desist, or else find some arbitrator {between us}: I will show that in this matter you are the most to blame.

DEM. Ah me! Learn to be a father from those who are really so.

MIC. You are his father by nature, I by my anxiety.

DEM. You, feel any anxiety?

MIC. Oh dear,-- if you persist, I’ll leave you.

DEM. Is it thus you act?

MIC. Am I so often to hear about the same thing?

DEM. I have some concern {for my son}.

MIC. I have some concern {for him} too; but, Demea, let us each be concerned for his own share-- you for the one, and I for the other. For, to concern yourself about both is almost the same thing as to demand him back again, whom you intrusted to me.

DEM. Alas, Micio!

MIC. So it seems to me.

DEM. What {am I to say} to this? If it pleases you, {henceforth}-- let him spend, squander, {and} destroy; it’s nothing to me. If I {say} one word after this----

MIC. Again angry, Demea?

DEM. Won’t you believe me? Do I demand him back whom I have intrusted? I am concerned for him; I am not a stranger in blood; if I do interpose-- well, well, I have done. You desire me to concern myself for one {of them},-- I do concern myself; and I give thanks to the Gods, he is just as I would have him; that fellow of yours will find it out at a future day: I don’t wish to say any thing more harsh against him. (_Exit._

SCENE III.

_MICIO alone._

MIC. These things are[30] not nothing at all, nor yet all just as he says; still they do give me some uneasiness; but I was unwilling to show him that I took them amiss, for he is such a man; when I would pacify him, I steadily oppose and resist {him}; {and} in spite of it he hardly puts up with it like other men; but if I were to inflame, or even to humor his anger, I should certainly be as mad as himself. And yet Æschinus has done me some injustice in this affair. What courtesan has he not intrigued with? Or to which {of them} has he not made some present? At last, he recently told me that he wished to take a wife,[31] I suppose he was just then tired of them all. I was in hopes that the warmth of youth had now subsided; I was delighted. But look {now}, he is at it again; however, I am determined to know it, whatever it is, and to go meet the fellow, if he is at the Forum. (_Exit._

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.

_Enter ÆSCHINUS and PARMENO with the MUSIC-GIRL, followed by SANNIO and a crowd of people._

SAN. I beseech you, fellow-citizens, do give aid to a miserable and innocent man; do assist the distressed.

ÆSCH. (_to the GIRL._) Be quiet, and now then stand here just where you are. Why do you look back? There’s no danger; he shall never touch you while I am here.

SAN. I’ll {have} her, in spite of all.

ÆSCH. Though he is a villain, he’ll not risk, to-day, getting a second beating.

SAN. Hear me, Aeschinus, that you may not say that you were in ignorance of my calling; I am a Procurer.[32]

ÆSCH. I know it.

SAN. And of as high a character as any one ever was. When you shall be excusing yourself by-and-by, how that you wish this injury had not been done me, I shall not value it this (_snapping his fingers_). Depend upon it, I’ll prosecute my rights; and you shall never pay with words for the evil that you have done me in deed. I know those {ways} of yours: “I wish it hadn’t happened; I’ll take my oath that you did not deserve this injustice;” while I myself have been treated in a disgraceful manner.

ÆSCH. (_to PARMENO._) Go first with all dispatch and open the door. (_PARMENO opens the door._)

SAN. But you will avail nothing by this.

ÆSCH. (_To the GIRL._) Now then, step in.

SAN. (_coming between._) But I’ll not let her.

ÆSCH. Step this way, Parmeno; you are gone too far that way; here (_pointing_), stand close by him; there, that’s what I want. Now then, take care you don’t move your eyes in any direction from mine, that there may be no delay if I give you the sign, to your fist being instantly planted in his jaws.

SAN. I’d have him then try that.

ÆSCH. (_to PARMENO._) Now then, observe me.

PAR. (_to SANNIO._) Let go the woman. (_Strikes him._)

SAN. Oh! scandalous deed!

ÆSCH. He shall repeat it, if you don’t take care. (_PARMENO strikes him again._)

SAN. Oh shocking!

ÆSCH. (_to PARMENO._) I didn’t give the sign; but still make your mistakes on that side in preference. Now then, go. (_PARMENO goes with the MUSIC-GIRL into MICIO’S house._)

SAN. What is the meaning of this? Have you the sway here, Aeschinus?

ÆSCH. If I had it, you should be exalted for your deserts.

SAN. What business have you with me?

ÆSCH. None.

SAN. How then, do you know who I am?

ÆSCH. I don’t want to.

SAN. Have I touched any thing of yours?

ÆSCH. If you had touched it, you’d have got a drubbing.

SAN. What greater right then have you to take my {property}, for which I paid {my} money? Answer me that.

ÆSCH. It were better for you not to be making a disturbance here before the house; for if you persist in being impertinent, you shall be dragged in at once, and there you shall be lashed to death with whips.

SAN. A free man, with whips?

ÆSCH. So it shall be.

SAN. Oh, you shameless fellow! Is this the place where they say there is equal liberty for all?

ÆSCH. If you have now raved enough, Procurer, now then listen, if you please.

SAN. Why, is it I that have been raving, or you against me?

ÆSCH. Leave alone {all} that, and come to the point.

SAN. What point? Where am I to come to?

ÆSCH. Are you willing now that I should say something that concerns you?

SAN. With all my heart, only so it be something that’s fair.

ÆSCH. Very fine! a Procurer wishing me not to say what’s unfair.

SAN. I am a Procurer,[33] I confess it-- the common bane of youth-- a perjurer, a {public} nuisance; still, no injury has befallen you from me.

ÆSCH. Why, faith, that remains to come----

SAN. Pray, Æschinus, do come back to the point at which you set out.

ÆSCH. You bought her for twenty minæ; and may your bargain never thrive! That sum shall be given {for her}.

SAN. What if I don’t choose to sell her to you? Will you compel me?

ÆSCH. By no means.

SAN. I was afraid you would.

ÆSCH. Neither do I think that a woman can be sold who is free; for I claim her by action of freedom.[34] Now consider which you choose; take the money, or prepare yourself for the action. Think of it, Procurer, till I return.[35] (_He goes into the house of MICIO._)

SCENE II.

_SANNIO alone._

SAN. (_to himself._) O supreme Jupiter! I do by no means wonder that men run mad through ill usage. He has dragged me out of my house, beaten me, taken my {property} away against my will, {and} has given me, unfortunate wretch, more than five hundred blows. In return for all this ill usage he demands {the girl} to be made over to him for just the same price at which she was bought. But however, since he has {so well} deserved {of me}, be it so: he demands what is his due. Very well, I consent then, provided he only gives the money. But I suspect this; when I have said that I will sell her for so much, he’ll be getting witnesses forthwith that I have sold her.[36] As to getting the money, it’s all a dream. {Call again} by and by; come back to-morrow. I could bear with that too, hard as it is, if he would only pay it. But I consider this to be the fact; when you take up this trade, you must brook and bear in silence the affronts of {these} young fellows. However, no one will pay me; it’s in vain for me to be reckoning upon that.

SCENE III.

_Enter SYRUS, from the house of MICIO._

SYR. (_speaking to ÆSCHINUS within._) Say no more; I myself will arrange with him; I’ll make him glad to take the money at once, and say besides that he has been fairly dealt with. (_Addressing SANNIO._) Sannio, how is this, that I hear you have been having some dispute or other with my master?

SAN. I never saw a dispute on more unequal terms[37] than the one that has happened to-day between us; I, with being thumped, he, with beating me, were both of us quite tired.

SYR. Your own fault.

SAN. What could I do?

SYR. You ought to have yielded to the young man.

SAN. How could I more so, when to-day I have even afforded my face to his blows?

SYR. Well-- are you aware of what I tell you? To slight money on some occasions is sometimes the surest gain. What! --were you afraid, you greatest simpleton alive, if you had parted with ever so little[38] of your right, and had humored the young man, that he would not repay you with interest?

SAN. I do not pay ready money for hope.

SYR. {Then} you’ll never make a fortune. Get out with you, Sannio; you don’t know how to take in mankind.

SAN. I believe that to be the better {plan}-- but I was never so cunning as not, whenever I was able to get it, to prefer getting ready money.

SYR. Come, come, I know your spirit; as if twenty minæ were any thing at all to you in comparison to obliging him; besides, they say that you are setting out for Cyprus----

SAN. (_aside._) Hah!

SYR. That you have been buying up many things to take thither; {and} that the vessel is hired. This I know, your mind is in suspense; however, when you return thence, I hope you’ll settle the matter.

SAN. Not a foot {do I stir}: Heavens! I’m undone! (_Aside._) It was upon this hope they devised their project.

SYR. (_aside._) He is alarmed. I’ve brought the fellow into a fix.

SAN. (_aside._) Oh, what villainy! --Just look at that; how he has nicked me in the very joint.[39] Several women have been purchased, and other things as well, for me to take to Cyprus.[40] If I don’t get there to the fair, my loss will be very great. Then if I postpone this {business}, and settle it when I come back from there, it will be of no use; the matter will be quite forgotten. “Come at last?” {they’ll say}. “Why did you delay it? Where have you been?” So that I had better lose it altogether than either stay here so long, or be suing for it then.

SYR. Have you by this reckoned[41] up what you calculate will be your profits?

SAN. Is this honorable of him? Ought Æschinus to attempt this? Ought he to endeavor to take her away from me by downright violence?

SYR. (_aside._) He gives ground. (_To SANNIO._) I have this one {proposal to make}; see if you fully approve of it. Rather than you should run the risk, Sannio, of getting or losing the whole, halve it. He will manage to scrape together ten minæ[42] from some quarter or other.

SAN. Ah me! unfortunate wretch, I am now in danger of even losing part of the principal. Has he no shame? He has loosened all my teeth; my head, too, is full of bumps with his cuffs; and would he defraud me as well? I shall go nowhere.

SYR. Just as you please. Have you any thing more to say before I go?

SAN. Why yes, Syrus, i’ faith, I have this to request. Whatever the matters that are past, rather than go to law, let what is my own be returned me; at least, Syrus, the sum she cost me. I know that you have not hitherto made trial of my friendship; you will have no occasion to say that I am unmindful or ungrateful.

SYR. I’ll do the best I can. But I see Ctesipho; he’s in high spirits about his mistress.

SAN. What about what I was asking you?

SYR. Stay a little.

SCENE IV.

_Enter CTESIPHO, at the other side of the stage._

CTES. From any man, when you stand in need of it, you are glad to receive a service; but of a truth it is doubly acceptable, if he does you a kindness who ought to do so. O brother, brother, how can I sufficiently commend you? This I am quite sure of; I can never speak of you in such high terms but that your deserts will surpass it. For I am of opinion that I possess this one thing in especial beyond all others, a brother than whom no individual is more highly endowed with the highest qualities.

SYR. O Ctesipho!

CTES. O Syrus, where is Æschinus?

SYR. Why, look-- he’s at home, waiting for you.

CTES. (_speaking joyously._) Ha!

SYR. What’s the matter?

CTES. What’s the matter? ’Tis through him, Syrus, that I am now alive-- generous creature! Has he not deemed every thing of secondary importance to himself in comparison with my happiness? The reproach, the discredit, my own amour and imprudence, he has taken upon himself. There can be nothing beyond this; but what means that noise at the door?

SYR. Stay, stay; ’tis {Æschinus} himself coming out.

SCENE V.

_Enter ÆSCHINUS, from the house of MICIO._

ÆSCH. Where is that villain?

SAN. (_aside._) He’s looking for me.[43] Is he bringing any thing {with him}? Confusion! I don’t see any thing.

ÆSCH. (_to CTESIPHO._) Ha! well met; you are the very man I was looking for. How goes it, Ctesipho? All is safe: away then with your melancholy.

CTES. By my troth, I certainly will away with it, when I have such a brother as you. O my {dear} Æschinus! O my brother! Alas! I am unwilling to praise you any more to your face, lest you should think I do so rather for flattery than through gratitude.

ÆSCH. Go to, you simpleton! as though we didn’t by this time understand each other, Ctesipho. This grieves me, that we knew of it almost too late, and that the matter had come to such a pass, that if all mankind had wished they could not possibly have assisted you.

CTES. I felt ashamed.

ÆSCH. Pooh! that is folly, not shame; about such a trifling matter {to be} almost {flying} the country![44] ’Tis shocking to be mentioned; I pray the Gods may forbid it!

CTES. I did wrong.

ÆSCH. (_in a lower voice._) What says Sannio to us at last?

SYR. He is pacified at last.

ÆSCH. I’ll go to the Forum to pay him off; you, Ctesipho, {step} in-doors to her.

SAN. (_aside to SYRUS._) Syrus, do urge {the matter}.

SYR. (_to ÆSCHINUS._) Let us be off, for he is in haste for Cyprus.[45]

SAN. Not particularly so; although still, I’m stopping here doing nothing at all.

SYR. It shall be paid, don’t fear.

SAN. But he is to pay it all.

SYR. He shall pay it all; only hold your tongue and follow {us} this way.

SAN. I’ll follow.

CTES. (_as SYRUS is going._) Harkye, harkye, Syrus.

SYR. (_turning back._) Well now, what is it?

CTES. (_aside._) Pray do discharge that most abominable fellow as soon as possible; for fear, in case he should become more angry, by some means or other this matter should reach my father, and then I should be ruined forever.

SYR. That shall not happen, be of good heart; meanwhile enjoy yourself in-doors with her, and onder the couches[46] to be spread for us, and the other things to be got ready. As soon as {this} business is settled, I shall come home with the provisions.

CTES. Pray {do} so. Since this has turned out so well, let us make a cheerful day of it. (_CTESIPHO goes into the house of MICIO; and exeunt ÆSCHINUS and SYRUS, followed by SANNIO._)

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

_Enter SOSTRATA and CANTHARA, from the house of the former._

SOS. Prithee, my {dear} nurse, how is it like to end?

CAN. Like to end, do you ask? I’troth, right well, I trust.

SOS. Her pains are just beginning, my dear.

CAN. You are in a fright now, just as though you had never been present {on such an occasion}-- never been in labor yourself.

SOS. Unfortunate woman that I am! I have not a person {at home}; we are quite alone; Geta too is absent. I have no one to go for the midwife, or to fetch Æschinus.

CAN. I’faith, he’ll certainly be here just now, for he never lets a day pass without visiting us.

SOS. He is my sole comfort in my afflictions.

CAN. Things could not have happened, mistress, more for the advantage of your daughter than they have, seeing that violence was offered her; so far as he is concerned, it is most lucky,-- such a person, of such disposition and feelings, a member of so respectable a family.

SOS. It is indeed as you say; I entreat the Gods that he may be preserved to us. (_They stand apart, on seeing GETA._)

SCENE II.

_Enter GETA, on the other side of the stage._

GETA (_to himself._) Now such is {our condition}, that if all were to combine all their counsels, and to seek a remedy for this mischief that has befallen myself, my mistress, and her daughter, they could find no relief. Oh wretched me! so many calamities beset us on a sudden, we can not possibly extricate ourselves. Violence, poverty, oppression, desertion, infamy! What an age is this! O {shocking} villainy! O accursed race! O impious man!--

SOS. Unhappy me! How is it that I see Geta hurrying along thus terrified?

GETA (_continuing._) Whom neither promises, nor oaths, nor compassion could move or soften; nor yet the fact that the delivery was nigh at hand of the unfortunate woman on whom he had so shamefully committed violence.

SOS. (_apart to CANTHARA._) I don’t well understand what he is talking about.

CAN. Pray, let us go nearer to him, Sostrata.

GETA (_continuing._) Ah wretched me! I am scarcely master of my senses, I am so inflamed with anger. There is nothing that I would like better than for all that family to be thrown in my way, that I might give vent to all {my} wrath upon them while this wound is still fresh. I could be content with any punishment, so I might only wreak my vengeance on them. First, I would stop the breath of the old fellow himself who gave being to this monster; then as for his prompter, Syrus, out upon him! how I would tear him piecemeal! I would snatch him by the middle up aloft, and dash him head downward upon the earth, so that with his brains he would bestrew the road: I would pull out the eyes of the young fellow himself, {and} afterward hurl him headlong {over some precipice}. The others I would rush upon, drive, drag, crush, and trample them {under foot}. But why do I delay at once to acquaint my mistress with this calamity? (_Moves as if going._)

SOS. (_to CANTHARA._) Let us call him back. Geta----

GETA. Well-- leave me alone,[47] whoever you are.

SOS. ’Tis I,-- Sostrata.

GETA (_turning round._) Why, where are you? You are the very person I am looking for. I was in quest of you; it’s very fortunate you have met me.

SOS. What’s the matter? Why are you trembling?

GETA. Alas! Alas!

SOS. My {dear} Geta, why in such haste? Do take breath.

GETA. Quite-- (_pauses._)

SOS. Why, what means this “quite”?

GETA. Undone-- It’s all over with us.

SOS. Say, then, I entreat you, what is the matter.

GETA. Now----

SOS. What “now,” Geta?

GETA. Æschinus----

SOS. What about him?

GETA. Has abandoned our family.

SOS. Then I am undone! Why so?

GETA. He has attached himself to another woman.

SOS. Woe unto wretched me!

GETA. And he makes no secret of it; he himself has carried her off openly from a procurer.

SOS. Are you quite sure of this?

GETA. Quite sure; I saw it myself, Sostrata, with these same eyes.

SOS. Ah wretched me! What is one now to believe, or whom believe? Our own Æschinus, the {very} life of us all, in whom all our hopes and comforts were centred! Who used to swear he could never live a single day without her! Who used to say, that he would place the infant on his father’s knees,[48] {and} thus entreat that he might be allowed to make her his wife!

GETA. {Dear} mistress, forbear weeping, and rather consider what must be done for the future in this matter. Shall we submit to it, or shall we tell it to any person?

CAN. Pooh, pooh! are you in your senses, my {good} man? Does this seem to you a business to be made known to any one?

GETA. I, indeed, have no wish for it. In the first place, then, that his feelings are estranged from us, the thing itself declares. Now, if we make this known, he’ll deny it, I’m quite sure; your reputation and your daughter’s character will {then} be in danger. On the other hand, if he were fully to confess it, as he is in love with another woman, it would not be to her advantage to be given to him. Therefore, under either circumstance, there is need of silence.

SOS. Oh! by no means in the world! I’ll not do it.

GETA. What is it you say?

SOS. I’ll make it known.

GETA. Ha, my {dear} Sostrata, take care what you do!

SOS. The matter can not possibly be in a worse position than it is at present. In the first place, she has no portion; then, besides, that which was as good as a portion, {her honor}, is lost: she can not be given in marriage as a virgin. This {resource} is left; if he should deny it, I have a ring which he lost as evidence {of the truth}. In fine, Geta, as I am fully conscious that no blame attaches to me, and that neither interest nor any consideration unworthy of her or of myself has had a share in this matter, I will make trial----

GETA. What am I to say to this? I agree, as you speak for the best.

SOS. You be off as fast as possible, and relate all the matter just as it has happened to her kinsman Hegio; for he was the best friend of our {lamented} Simulus, and has shown especial regard for us.

GETA. (_aside._) Aye, faith, because nobody else takes any notice {of us}.

SOS. Do you, my {dear} Canthara, run with all haste, {and} fetch the midwife, so that, when she is wanted, we may not have to wait for her. (_SOSTRATA goes into the house, and exit GETA and CANTHARA._)

SCENE III.

_Enter DEMEA._

DEM. (_to himself._) Utterly undone! I hear that Ctesipho was with Æschinus at the carrying off {of this girl}. This sorrow {still} remains for unhappy me, should {Æschinus} be able to seduce him, even him, who promises so fair, to a course of debauchery. Where am I to inquire for him? I doubt he has been carried off to some bad house; that profligate has persuaded him, I’m quite sure. But look-- I see Syrus coming {this way}, I shall now know from him where he is. But, i’faith, he is one of the gang; if he perceives that I am looking for him, the rascal will never tell me. I’ll not let him know what I want.

SCENE IV.

_Enter SYRUS, at the other side of the stage._

SYR. (_to himself._) We just now told the old gentleman the whole affair just as it happened; I never did see any one more delighted.

DEM. (_apart._) O Jupiter! the folly of the man!

SYR. (_continuing._) He commended his son. To me, who put them upon this project, he gave thanks----

DEM. (_apart_) I shall burst asunder.

SYR. (_continuing._) He told down the money instantly, {and} gave me half a mina besides to spend. That was laid out quite to my liking.

DEM. (_apart._) Very fine-- if you would wish a thing to be nicely managed, intrust it to this {fellow}.

SYR. (_overhearing him._) Ha, Demea! I didn’t see you; how goes it?

DEM. How should it go? I can not enough wonder at your mode of living {here}.

SYR. Why, really silly enough, and, to speak without disguise, {altogether} absurd. (_Calls at the door of MICIO’S house._) Dromo, clean the rest of the fish; let the largest conger-eel play a little in the water; when I come {back} it shall be boned;[49] not before.

DEM. Is profligacy like this----

SYR. As for myself, it isn’t to my taste, and I often exclaim {against it}. (_Calls at the door._) Stephanio, take care that the salt fish is well soaked.

DEM. Ye Gods, by our trust in you! is he doing this for any purpose of his own, or does he think it creditable to ruin {his} son? Wretch that I am! methinks I already see the day when {Æschinus} will be running away for want, to serve somewhere or other as a soldier.[50]

SYR. O Demea! that is wisdom {indeed},-- not only to look at the present moment, but also to look forward to what’s to come.

DEM. Well-- is this Music-girl still with you?

SYR. Why, yes, she’s in-doors.

DEM. How now-- is he going to keep her at home?

SYR. I believe so; such is his madness!

DEM. Is it possible?

SYR. An imprudent lenity in his father, and a vicious indulgence.

DEM. Really, I am ashamed and grieved at my brother.

SYR. Demea! between you there is a great-- I do not say it because you are here present-- a too great difference. You are, every bit of you, nothing but wisdom; he a {mere} dreamer. Would you indeed have suffered that son of yours to act thus?

DEM. I, suffer him? Would I not have smelt it out six months before he attempted it?

SYR. Need I be told by you of your foresight?

DEM. I pray he may only continue the same he is at present!

SYR. Just as each person wishes his son to be, so he turns out.

DEM. What news of him? Have you seen him to-day?

SYR. What, your son? (_Aside._) I’ll pack him off into the country. (_To DEMEA._) I fancy he’s busy at the farm long before this.

DEM. Are you quite sure he is there?

SYR. What! --when I saw him part of the way {myself}----

DEM. Very good. I was afraid he might be loitering here.

SYR. And extremely angry too.

DEM. Why so?

SYR. He attacked his brother in the Forum with strong language about this Music-girl.

DEM. Do you really say so?

SYR. Oh dear, he didn’t at all mince the matter; for just as the money was being counted out, the gentleman came upon us by chance, {and} began exclaiming, “Oh Æschinus, that you should perpetrate these enormities! that you should be guilty of actions {so} disgraceful to our family!”

DEM. Oh, I shall weep for joy.

SYR. “By this you are not squandering your money {only}, but your reputation.”

DEM. May he be preserved to me! I trust he will be like his forefathers. (_Weeping._)

SYR. (_aside._) Heyday!

DEM. Syrus, he is full of these maxims.

SYR. (_aside._) Strange, indeed! He had the means at home of learning them.

DEM. I do every thing I can; I spare no pains; I train him up to it: in fine, I bid him look into the lives of men, as though into a mirror, and from others to take an example for himself. Do this, {I say}----

SYR. Quite right.

DEM. Avoid that----

SYR. Very shrewd.

DEM. This is praiseworthy----

SYR. That’s the thing.

DEM. That is considered blamable----

SYR. Extremely good.

DEM. And then, moreover----

SYR. Upon my honor, I have not the leisure to listen to you just at present: I have got some fish just to my taste, {and} must take care they are not spoiled; for that would be as much a crime in me, as for you, Demea, not to observe those maxims which you have just been mentioning; and so far as I can, I lay down precepts for my fellow-servants on the very same plan; “this is {too} salt, that is quite burned up, this is not washed enough, that is {very} well done; remember {and do} so another time.” I carefully instruct them so far as I can to the best of my capacity. In short, Demea, I bid them look into their sauce-pans as though into a mirror,[51] and suggest to them what they ought to do. I am sensible these things are trifling which we do; but what is one to do? According as the man is, so must you humor him. Do you wish any thing else?

DEM. That more wisdom may be granted you.

SYR. You will be going off into the country, {I suppose}?

DEM. Directly.

SYR. For what should you do here, where, if you do give any good precepts, no one will regard them? (_Goes into MICIO’S house._)

SCENE V.

_DEMEA, alone._

DEM. (_to himself._) I certainly will be off, as he on whose account I came hither has gone into the country. I have a care for him: that alone is my own concern, since my brother will have it so; let him look to the other himself. But who is it I see yonder at a distance? Isn’t it Hegio of our tribe?[52] If I see right, i’faith, it is he. Ah, a man I have been friendly with from a child! Good Gods! we certainly have a great dearth of citizens of that stamp nowadays, with the old-fashioned virtue and honesty. Not in a hurry will any misfortune accrue to the public from him. How glad I am to find some remnants of this race even still remaining; now I feel some pleasure in living. I’ll wait here for him, to ask him how he is, and have some conversation with him.

SCENE VI.

_Enter HEGIO and GETA, conversing, at a distance._

HEG. Oh immortal Gods! a disgraceful action, Geta! What is it you tell me?

GETA. Such is the fact.

HEG. That so ignoble a deed should come from that family! Oh Æschinus, assuredly you haven’t taken after your father in that!

DEM. (_apart._) Why surely, he has heard this about the Music-girl; that gives him concern, {though} a stranger; this father {of his} thinks nothing of it. Ah me! I wish he were somewhere close at hand to overhear this.

HEG. Unless they do as they ought to do, they shall not come off so easily.

GETA. All our hopes, Hegio, are centred in you; you we have for {our} only {friend}; you are our protector, our father. The old man, {Simulus}, when dying, recommended us to you; if you forsake us, we are undone.

HEG. Beware how you mention {that}; I neither will do it, nor do I think thaat; with due regard to the ties of relationship, I could.

DEM. (_apart._) I’ll accost him. (_Approaches HEGIO._) Hegio, I bid you welcome right heartily.

HEG. (_starting._) Oh! I you are the very man I was looking for. Greetings to you, Demea.

DEM. Why, what’s the matter?

HEG. Your eldest son Æschinus, whom you gave to your brother to adopt, has been acting the part of neither an honest man nor a gentleman.

DEM. What has he been doing?

HEG. You knew my friend and year’s-mate, Simulus?

DEM. Why not?

HEG. He has debauched his daughter, a virgin.

DEM. Hah!

HEG. Stay, Demea. You have not yet heard the worst.

DEM. Is there any thing still worse?

HEG. Worse, by far: for this indeed might in some measure have been borne with. The hour of night prompted him; passion, wine, young blood; ’tis human nature. When he was sensible of what he had done, he came voluntarily to the girl’s mother, weeping, praying, entreating, pledging his honor, vowing that he would take her home.[53] {The affair} was pardoned, hushed, up, his word taken. The girl from that intercourse became pregnant: {this} is the tenth month. He, worthy fellow, has provided himself, if it please the Gods, with a Music-girl to live with; the other he has cast off.

DEM. Do you say this for certain?

HEG. The mother of the young woman is among us,[54] the young woman too; the fact {speaks for} itself; this Geta, besides, according to the common run of servants, not a bad one or of idle habits; he supports them; alone, maintains the whole family; take him, bind him,[55] examine him upon the matter.

GETA. Aye, faith, put me to the torture, Demea, if such is not the fact: besides, he will not deny it. Confront me with him.

DEM. (_aside._) I am ashamed; and what to do, or how to answer him, I don’t know.

PAM. (_crying out within the house of SOSTRATA._) Ah me! I am racked with pains! Juno Lucina,[56] bring aid, save me, I beseech thee!

HEG. Hold; is she in labor, pray?

GETA. No doubt of it, Hegio.

HEG. Ah! she is now imploring your protection, Demea; let her obtain from you spontaneously what the power {of the law} compels you to give. I do entreat the Gods that what befits you may at once be done. But if your sentiments are otherwise, Demea, I will defend both them and him who is dead to the utmost of my power. He was my kinsman:[57] we were brought up together from children, we were companions in the wars and at home, together we experienced the hardships of poverty. I will therefore exert myself, strive, use all methods, in fine lay down my life, rather than forsake these women. What answer do you give me?

DEM. I’ll go find my brother, Hegio: the advice he gives me upon this matter I’ll follow.[58]

HEG. But, Demea, take you care and reflect upon this: the more easy you are in your circumstances, the more powerful, wealthy, affluent, {and} noble you are, so much the more ought you with equanimity to observe {the dictates of} justice, if you would have yourselves esteemed as men of probity.

DEM. Go back {now};[59] every thing shall be done that is proper to be done.

HEG. It becomes you to act {thus}. Geta, show me in to Sostrata. (_Follows GETA into SOSTRATA’S house._)

DEM. (_to himself._) Not without warning on my part have these things happened: I only wish it may end here; but this immoderate indulgence will undoubtedly lead to some great misfortune. I’ll go find my brother, and vent these feelings upon him. (_Exit._

SCENE VII.

_Enter HEGIO, from SOSTRATA’S house, and speaking to her within._

HEG. Be of good heart,[60] Sostrata, and take care and console her as far as you can. I’ll go find Micio, if he is at the Forum, and acquaint him with the whole circumstances in their order; if so it is that he will do his duty {by you}, let him do so; but if his sentiments are otherwise about this matter, let him give me his answer, that I may know at once what I am to do. (_Exit._

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

_Enter CTESIPHO and SYRUS from the house of MICIO._

CTES. My father gone into the country, say you?

SYR. (_with a careless air._) Some time since.

CTES. Do tell me, I beseech you.

SYR. He is at the farm at this very moment,[61] I warrant-- hard at some work or other.

CTES. I really wish, provided it be done with no prejudice to his health, I wish that he may so effectually tire himself, that, for the next three days together, he may be unable to arise from his bed.

SYR. So be it, and any thing still better than that,[62] if possible.

CTES. Just so; for I do most confoundedly wish to pass this whole day in merry-making as I have begun it; and for no reason do I detest that farm so heartily as for its being so near {town}. If it were at a greater distance, night would overtake him there before he could return hither again. Now, when he doesn’t find me there, he’ll come running back here, I’m quite sure; he’ll be asking me where I have been, that I have not seen him all this day: what am I to say?

SYR. Does nothing suggest itself to your mind?

CTES. Nothing whatever.

SYR. So much the worse[63]-- have you no client, friend, or guest?

CTES. I have; what then?

SYR. You have been engaged with them.

CTES. When I have not been engaged? That can never do.

SYR. It may.

CTES. During the daytime; but if I pass the night here, what excuse can I make, Syrus?

SYR. Dear me, how much I do wish it was the custom for one to be engaged with friends at night as well! But you be easy; I know his humor perfectly well. When he raves the most violently, I can make him as gentle as a lamb.

CTES. In what way?

SYR. He loves to hear you praised: I make a god of you to him, {and} recount your virtues.

CTES. What, mine?

SYR. Yours; immediately the tears fall from him as from a child, for {very} joy. (_Starting._) Hah! take care----

CTES. Why, what’s the matter?

SYR. The wolf in the fable[64]----

CTES. What! my father?

SYR. His own self.

CTES. What shall we do, Syrus?

SYR. You only be off in-doors, I’ll see to that.

CTES. If he makes any inquiries, you {have seen} me nowhere; do you hear?

SYR. Can you not be quiet? (_They retreat to the door of MICIO’S house, and CTESIPHO stands in the doorway._)

SCENE II.

_Enter DEMEA, on the other side of the stage._

DEM. (_to himself._) I certainly am an unfortunate man. In the first place, I can find my brother nowhere; and then, in the next place, while looking for him, I met a day-laborer[65] from the farm; he says that my son is not in the country, and what to do I know not----

CTES. (_apart._) Syrus!

SYR. (_apart._) What’s the matter?

CTES. (_apart._) Is he looking for me?

SYR. (_apart._) Yes.

CTES. (_apart._) Undone!

SYR. (_apart._) Nay, do be of good heart.

DEM. (_to himself._) Plague on it! what ill luck is this? I can not really account for it, unless I suppose myself {only} born for the purpose of enduring misery. I am the first to feel our misfortunes; the first to know of them all; then the first to carry the news; I am the only one, if any thing does go wrong, to take it to heart.

SYR. (_apart._) I’m amused at him; he says that he is the first to know of {every thing, while} he is the only one ignorant of every thing.

DEM. (_to himself._) I’ve now come back; and I’ll go see whether perchance my brother has yet returned.

CTES. (_apart._) Syrus, pray do take care that he doesn’t suddenly rush in upon us here.

SYR. (_apart._) Now will you hold your tongue? I’ll take care.

CTES. (_apart._) Never this day will I depend on your management for that, upon my faith; for I’ll shut myself up with her in some cupboard[66]-- that’s the safest. (_Goes into the house._)

SYR. (_apart._) Do so, still I’ll get rid of him.

DEM. (_seeing SYRUS._) But see! there’s that rascal, Syrus.

SYR. (_aloud, pretending not to see DEMEA._) Really, upon my faith, no person can stay here, if this is to be the case! For my part, I should like to know how many masters I have-- what a cursed condition this is!

DEM. What’s he whining about? What does he mean? How say you, good sir, is my brother at home?

SYR. What the plague do you talk to me about, “good sir”? I’m quite distracted!

DEM. What’s the matter with you?

SYR. Do you ask the question? Ctesipho has been beating me, poor wretch, and that Music-girl, almost to death.

DEM. Ha! what is it you tell me?

SYR. Aye, see how he has cut my lip. (_Pretends to point to it._)

DEM. For what reason?

SYR. He says that she was bought by my advice.

DEM. Did not you tell me, a short time since, that you had seen him on his way into the country?

SYR. I did; but he afterward came back, raving like a madman; he spared nobody-- ought he not to have been ashamed to beat an old man? Him whom, only the other day, I used to carry about in my arms when thus high? (_Showing._)

DEM. I commend him; O Ctesipho, you take after your father. Well, I do pronounce you a man.

SYR. Commend him? Assuredly he will keep his hands to himself in future, if he’s wise.

DEM. {’Twas done} with spirit.

SYR. Very much so, to be beating a poor woman, and me, a slave, who didn’t dare strike him in return; heyday! very spirited indeed!

DEM. He could not {have done} better: he thought the same as I {did}, that you were the principal in this affair. But is my brother within?

SYR. He is not.

DEM. I’m thinking where to look for him.

SYR. I know where he is-- but I shall not tell you at present.

DEM. Ha! what’s that you say?

SYR. {I do say} so.

DEM. Then I’ll break your head for you this instant.

SYR. I can’t tell the person’s name {he’s gone to}, but I know the place where he lives.

DEM. Tell me the place then.

SYR. Do you know the portico down this way, just by the shambles? (_Pointing in the direction._)

DEM. How should I but know it?

SYR. Go straight along, right up that street; when you come there, there is a descent right opposite that goes downward, go straight down that; afterward, on this side (_extending one hand_), there is a chapel: close by it is a narrow lane, where there’s also a great wild fig-tree.

DEM. I know it.

SYR. Go through that--

DEM. But that lane is not a thoroughfare.

SYR. I’ faith, that’s true; dear, dear, would you take me to be in my senses?[67] I made a mistake. Return to the portico; indeed that will be a much nearer way, and there is less going round about: you know the house of Cratinus, the rich man?

DEM. I know it.

SYR. When you have passed that, keep straight along that street on the left hand;[68] when you come to the Temple of Diana, turn to the right; before you come to the {city} gate,[69] just by that pond, there is a baker’s shop, and opposite to it a joiner’s; there he is.

DEM. What is he doing there?

SYR. He has given some couches to be made, with oaken legs, for use in the open air.[70]

DEM. For you to carouse upon! Very fine! But {why} do I delay going to him? (_Exit._)

SCENE III.

_SYRUS alone._

SYR. Go, by all means. I’ll work you to day, {you} skeleton,[71] as you deserve. Æschinus loiters intolerably; the breakfast’s spoiling; and as for Ctesipho, he’s head and ears in love.[72] I shall now think of myself, for I’ll be off at once, and pick out the very nicest bit, and, leisurely sipping my cups,[73] I’ll lengthen out the day. (_Goes into the house._)

SCENE IV.

_Enter MICIO and HEGIO._

MIC. I can see no reason here, Hegio, that I should be so greatly commended. I do my duty; the wrong that has originated with us I redress. Unless, perhaps, you thought me one of that class of men who think that an injury is purposely done them if you expostulate about any thing they have done; and yet are {themselves} the first to accuse. Because I have not acted thus, do you return me thanks?

HEG. Oh, far from it; I never led myself to believe you to be otherwise than you are; but I beg, Micio, that you will go with me to the mother of the young woman, and {repeat to her} the same; what you have told me, do you yourself tell the woman, that this suspicion of {Æschinus’s fidelity} was incurred on his brother’s account, {and} that this Music-girl was for him.

MIC. If you think I ought, or if there is a necessity for doing so, let us go.

HEG. You act with kindness; for you’ll then both have relieved her mind who is {now} languishing in sorrow and affliction, and have discharged your duty. But if you think otherwise, I will tell her myself what you have been saying to me.

MIC. Nay, I’ll go as well.

HEG. You act with kindness; all who are in distressed circumstances are suspicious,[74] to I know not what degree; they take every thing too readily as an affront; they fancy themselves trifled with on account of their helpless condition; therefore it will be more satisfactory for you to justify him to them yourself. (_They go into the house of SOSTRATA._)

SCENE V.

_Enter ÆSCHINUS._

I am quite distracted in mind! for this misfortune so unexpectedly to befall me, that I neither know what to do with myself, or how to act! My limbs are enfeebled through fear, my faculties bewildered with apprehension; no counsel is able to find a place within my breast. Alas! how to extricate myself from this perplexity I know not; so strong a suspicion has taken possession of them about me; not without some reason too: Sostrata believes that I have purchased this Music-girl for {myself}: the old woman informed me of that. For by accident, when she was sent for the midwife, I saw her, and at once went up to her. “How is Pamphila?” I inquired; “is her delivery at hand? Is it for that she is sending for the midwife?” “Away, away, Æschinus,” cries she; “you have deceived us long enough; already have your promises disappointed us sufficiently.” “Ha!” said I; “pray what is the meaning of this?” “Farewell,” {she cries}; “keep to her who is your choice.” I instantly guessed what it was they suspected, but still I checked myself, that I might not be telling that gossip any thing about my brother, whereby it might be divulged. Now what am I to do? Shall I say she is for my brother, a thing that ought by no means to be repeated any where? However, let that pass. It is possible it might go no further. I am afraid they would not believe it, so many probabilities concur {against it}: ’twas I myself carried her off; ’twas I, my own self, that paid the money {for her}; ’twas my own house she was carried to. This I confess has been entirely my own fault. Ought I not to have disclosed this affair, just as it happened, to my father? I might have obtained his consent to marry her. I have been too negligent hitherto; henceforth, then, arouse yourself, Æschinus. This then is the first thing; to go to them and clear myself. I’ll approach the door. (_Advances to the door of SOSTRATA’S house._) Confusion! I always tremble most dreadfully when I go to knock at that {door}. (_Knocking and calling to them within._) Ho there, ho there! it is Æschinus; open the door immediately, some one. (_The door opens._) Some person, I know not who, is coming out; I’ll step aside here. (_He stands apart._)

SCENE VI.

_Enter MICIO from the house of SOSTRATA._

MIC. (_speaking at the door to SOSTRATA._) Do as I told {you}, Sostrata; I’ll go find Æschinus, that he may know how these matters have been settled. (_Looking round._) But who was it knocking at the door?

ÆSCH. (_apart._) Heavens, it is my father! --I am undone!

MIC. Æschinus!

ÆSCH. (_aside._) What can be his business here?

MIC. Was it you knocking at this door? (_Aside._) He is silent. Why shouldn’t I rally him a little? It would be as well, as he was never willing to trust me with this {secret}. (_To ÆSCHINUS._) Don’t you answer me?

ÆSCH. (_confusedly._) It wasn’t I {knocked} at that {door}, that I know of.

MIC. Just so; for I wondered what business you could have here. (_Apart._) He blushes; all’s well.

ÆSCH. Pray tell me, father, what business have you there?

MIC. Why, none of my own; {but} a certain friend {of mine} just now brought me hither from the Forum to give him some assistance.

ÆSCH. Why?

MIC. I’ll tell you. There are some women living here; in impoverished circumstances, as I suppose you don’t know them; and, {in fact}, I’m quite sure, for it is not long since they removed to this place.

ÆSCH. Well, what next?

MIC. There is a girl living with her mother.

ÆSCH. Go on.

MIC. This girl has lost her father; this friend of mine is her next of kin; the law obliges him to marry her.[75]

ÆSCH. (_aside._) Undone!

MIC. What’s the matter?

ÆSCH. Nothing. Very well: proceed.

MIC. He has come to take her with him; for he lives at Miletus.

ÆSCH. What! To take the girl away with him?

MIC. Such is the fact.

ÆSCH. All the way to Miletus, pray?[76]

MIC. Yes.

ÆSCH. (_aside._) I’m overwhelmed with grief. (_To MICIO._) {But} what of them? What do they say?

MIC. What do you suppose they should? Why, nothing at all. The mother has trumped up a tale, that there is a child by some other man, I know not who, and she does not state the name; {she says} that he was the first, {and} that she ought not to be given to the other.

ÆSCH. Well now, does not this seem just to you after all?

MIC. No.

ÆSCH. Why not, pray? Is {the other} to be carrying her away from here?

MIC. Why should he not take her?

ÆSCH. You have acted harshly and unfeelingly, and even, if, father, I may speak my sentiments more plainly, unhandsomely.

MIC. Why so?

ÆSCH. Do you ask me? Pray, what do you think must be the state of mind of the man who was first connected with her, who, to his misfortune, may perhaps still love her to distraction, when he sees her torn away from before his face, {and} borne off from his sight {forever}? An unworthy action, father!

MIC. On what grounds is it so? Who betrothed her?[77] Who gave her away? When {and} to whom was she married? Who was the author of all this? Why did he connect himself with a woman who belonged to another?

ÆSCH. Was it to be expected that a young woman of her age should sit at home, waiting till a kinsman {of hers} should come from a distance? This, my father, you ought to have represented, and have insisted on it.

MIC. Ridiculous! Was I to have pleaded against him whom I was to support? But what’s all this, Æschinus, to us? What have we to do with them? Let us begone:---- What’s the matter? Why these tears?

ÆSCH. (_weeping._) Father, I beseech you, listen to me.

MIC. Æschinus, I have heard and know it all; for I love you, and therefore every thing you do is the more a care to me.

ÆSCH. So do I wish you to find me deserving of your love, as long as you live, my {dear} father, as I am sincerely sorry for the offense I have committed, and am ashamed to see you.

MIC. Upon my word I believe it, for I know your ingenuous disposition: but I am afraid that you are too inconsiderate. In what city, pray, do you suppose you live? You have debauched a virgin, whom it was not lawful for you to touch. In the first place then that was a great offense; great, but still natural. Others, and even men of worth, have frequently done the same. But after it happened, pray, did you show any circumspection? Or did you use any foresight as to what was to be done, {or} how it was to be done? If you were ashamed to tell me of it, by what means was I to come to know it? While you were at a loss upon these points, ten months have been lost. So far indeed as lay in your power, you have periled both yourself {and} this poor {girl}, and the child. What did you imagine-- that the Gods would set these matters to rights for you while you were asleep, and that she would be brought home to your chamber without any exertions of your own? I would not have you to be equally negligent in other affairs. Be of good heart, you shall have her for your wife.

ÆSCH. Hah!

MIC. Be of good heart, I tell you.

ÆSCH. Father, are you now jesting with me, pray?

MIC. I, {jesting} with you! For what reason?

ÆSCH. I don’t know; but so anxiously do I wish this to be true, that I am the more afraid it may not be.

MIC. Go home, and pray to the Gods that you may have your wife; be off.

ÆSCH. What! have my wife now?

MIC. Now.

ÆSCH. Now?

MIC. Now, as soon as possible.

ÆSCH. May all the Gods detest me, father, if I do not love you better than even my very eyes!

MIC. What! {better} than her?

ÆSCH. Quite as well.

MIC. Very kind of you!

ÆSCH. Well, where is this Milesian?

MIC. Departed, vanished, gone on board ship; but why do you delay?

ÆSCH. Father, do you rather go and pray to the Gods; for I know, for certain, that they will rather be propitious to you,[78] as being a much better man than I {am}.

MIC. I’ll go in-doors, that what is requisite may be prepared. You do as I said, if you are wise. (_Goes into his house._)

SCENE VII.

_ÆSCHINUS alone._

ÆSCH. What can be the meaning of this? Is this being a father, or this being a son? If he had been a brother or {familiar} companion, how could he have been more complaisant! Is he not worthy to be beloved? Is he not to be imprinted in my very bosom? Well then, the more does he impose an obligation on me by his kindness, to take due precaution not inconsiderately to do any thing that he may not wish. But why do I delay going in-doors this instant, that I may not myself delay my own nuptials? (_Goes into the house of MICIO._)

SCENE VIII.

_Enter DEMEA._

I am quite tired with walking: May the great Jupiter confound you, Syrus, together with your directions! I have crawled the whole city over; to the gate, to the pond-- where not? There was no joiner’s shop there; not a soul could say he had seen my brother; but now I’m determined to sit and wait at his house till he returns.

SCENE IX.

_Enter MICIO from his house._

MIC. (_speaking to the people within._) I’ll go and tell them there’s no delay on our part.

DEM. But see here’s the very man: O Micio, I have been seeking you this long time.

MIC. Why, what’s the matter?

DEM. I’m bringing you some new and great enormities of that hopeful youth.

MIC. Just look at that!

DEM. Fresh ones, of blackest dye.

MIC. There now-- at it again.

DEM. Ah, {Micio}! you little know what sort of person he is.

MIC. I do.

DEM. O simpleton! you are dreaming that I’m talking about the Music-girl; this crime is against a virgin {and} a citizen.

MIC. I know it.

DEM. So then, you know it, and put up with it!

MIC. Why not put up with it?

DEM. Tell me, pray, don’t you exclaim about it? Don’t you go distracted?

MIC. Not I: certainly I had rather[79]----

DEM. There has been a child born.

MIC. May the Gods be propitious {to it}.

DEM. The girl has no fortune.

MIC. {So} I have heard.

DEM. And he-- must he marry her without one?

MIC. Of course.

DEM. What is to be done then?

MIC. Why, what the case itself points out: the young woman must be brought hither.

DEM. O Jupiter! must that be the way {then}?

MIC. What can I do else?

DEM. What can you do? If in reality this causes you no concern, to pretend it were surely the duty of a man.

MIC. But I have already betrothed the young woman {to him}; the matter is settled: the marriage takes place {to-day}. I have removed all apprehensions. This is rather the duty of a man.

DEM. But does the affair please you, Micio?

MIC. If I were able to alter it, no; now, as I can not, I bear it with patience. The life of man is just like playing with dice:[80] if that which you most want to throw does not turn up, what turns up by chance you must correct by art.

DEM. {O rare} corrector! of course it is by your art that twenty minæ have been thrown away for a Music-girl; who, as soon as possible, must be got rid of at any price; and if not for money, why then for nothing.

MIC. Not at all, and indeed I have no wish to sell her.

DEM. What will you do with her then?

MIC. She shall be at my house.

DEM. For heaven’s sake, a courtesan and a matron in the same house!

MIC. Why not?

DEM. Do you imagine you are in your senses?

MIC. Really I do think {so}.

DEM. So may the Gods prosper me, I {now} see your folly; I believe you are going to do so that you may have somebody to practice music with.

MIC. Why not?

DEM. And the new-made bride to be learning too?

MIC. Of course.

DEM. Having hold of the rope,[81] you will be dancing with them.

MIC. Like enough; and you too along with us, if there’s need.

DEM. Ah me! are you not ashamed of this?

MIC. Demea, do, for once, lay aside this anger of yours, and show yourself as you ought at your son’s wedding, cheerful and good-humored. I’ll just step over to them, {and} return immediately. (_Goes into SOSTRATA’S house._)

SCENE X.

_DEMEA alone._

DEM. O Jupiter! here’s a life! here are manners! here’s madness! A wife to be coming without a fortune! A music-wench in the house! A house full of wastefulness! A young man ruined by extravagance! An old man in his dotage! --Should Salvation herself[82] desire it, she certainly could not save this family. (_Exit._

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

_Enter SYRUS, drunk, and DEMEA, on the opposite side of the stage._

SYR. Upon my faith, my dear little Syrus, you have taken delicate care of yourself, and have done your duty[83] with exquisite taste; be off with you. But since I’ve had my fill of every thing in-doors, I have felt disposed to take a walk.

DEM. (_apart._) Just look at that-- there’s an instance of their {good} training!

SYR. (_to himself._) But see, here comes our old man. (_Addressing him._) What’s the matter? Why out of spirits?

DEM. Oh you rascal!

SYR. Hold now; are you spouting your sage maxims here?

DEM. If you were my {servant}----

SYR. Why, you would be a rich man, Demea, and improve your estate.

DEM. I would take care that you should be an example to all the rest.

SYR. For what reason? What have I done?

DEM. Do you ask me? in the midst of this confusion, and during the greatest mischief, which is hardly yet set right, you have been getting drunk, you villain, as though things had been going on well.

SYR. (_aside._) Really, I wish I hadn’t come out.

SCENE II.

_Enter DROMO in haste, from the house of MICIO._

DRO. Halloo, Syrus! Ctesipho desires you’ll come back.

SYR. Get you gone. (_Pushes him back into the house._)

DEM. What is it he says about Ctesipho?

SYR. Nothing.

DEM. How now, {you} hang-dog, is Ctesipho in the house?

SYR. He is not.

DEM. {Then} why does he mention him?

SYR. It’s another person; a little diminutive Parasite. Don’t you know him?

DEM. I will know him before long. (_Going to the door._)

SYR. (_stopping him._) What are you about? Whither are you going?

DEM. (_struggling._) Let me alone.

SYR. (_holding him._) Don’t, I tell you.

DEM. Won’t you keep your hands off, whip-scoundrel? Or would you like me to knock your brains out this instant? (_Rushes into the house._)

SYR. He’s gone! no very pleasant boon-companion, upon my faith, particularly to Ctesipho. What am I to do now? Why, even get into some corner till this tempest is lulled, and sleep off this drop of wine. That’s my plan. (_Goes into the house, staggering._)

SCENE III.

_Enter MICIO, from the house of SOSTRATA._

MIC. (_to SOSTRATA, within._) Every thing’s ready with us, as I told you, Sostrata, when you like. --Who, I wonder, is making my door fly open with such fury?

_Enter DEMEA in haste, from the house of MICIO._

DEM. Alas! what shall I do? How behave? In what terms exclaim, or how make my complaint? O heavens! O earth! O seas of Neptune!

MIC. (_apart._) Here’s for you! he has discovered all about the affair; {and} of course is now raving about it; a quarrel is the consequence; I must assist him,[84] {however}. DEM. See, here comes the common corrupter of my children.

MIC. Pray moderate your passion, and recover yourself.

DEM. I have moderated it; I am myself; I forbear all reproaches; let us come to the point: was this agreed upon between us,-- proposed by yourself, in fact,-- that you were not to concern yourself about my {son}, nor I about yours? Answer me.

MIC. It is the fact,-- I don’t deny it.

DEM. Why is he now carousing at your house? Why are you harboring my son? Why do you purchase a mistress for him, Micio? Is it at all fair, that I should have any less justice from you, than you from me? Since I do not concern myself about your {son}, don’t you concern yourself about mine.

MIC. You don’t reason fairly.

DEM. No?

MIC. For surely it is a maxim of old, that among themselves all things are common to friends.

DEM. Smartly {said}; you’ve got that speech up for the occasion.

MIC. Listen to a few words, unless it is disagreeable, Demea. In the first place, if the extravagance your sons are guilty of distresses you, pray do reason with yourself. You formerly brought up the two suitably to your circumstances, thinking that your own property would have to suffice for them both; and, of course, you then thought that I should marry. Adhere to that same old rule {of yours},-- save, scrape together, {and} be thrifty {for them}; take care to leave them as much as possible, and {take} that credit to yourself: my fortune, which has come to them beyond their expectation, allow them to enjoy; of {your} captial there will be no diminution; what comes from this quarter, set it {all} down as so much gain. If you think proper impartially to consider these matters in your mind, Demea, you will save me and yourself, and them, {considerable} uneasiness.

DEM. I don’t speak about the expense; their morals--

MIC. Hold; I understand you; that point I was coming to.[85] There are in men, Demea, many signs from which a conjecture is easily formed; {so that} when two persons do the same thing, you may often say, this one may be allowed to do it with impunity, the other may not; not that the thing {itself} is different, but that he is who does it. I see {signs} in them, so as to feel confident that they will turn out as we wish. I see that they have good sense and understanding, that they have modesty upon occasion, {and} are affectionate to each other; you may infer that their bent and disposition is of a pliant nature; at any time you like you may reclaim them. But still, you may be apprehensive that they will be somewhat too apt to neglect their interests. O my {dear} Demea, in all other things we grow wiser with age; this sole vice does old age bring upon men: we are all more solicitous about our own interests than we need be; and in this respect age will make them sharp enough.

DEM. Only {take care}, Micio, that these fine reasonings of yours, and this easy disposition of yours, do not ruin us {in the end}.

MIC. Say no more; there’s no danger of that. Now think no further of these matters. Put yourself to-day into my hands; smooth your brow.

DEM. Why, as the occasion requires it, I must do so; but to-morrow {I shall be off} with my son into the country at daybreak.

MIC. Aye, to-night, for my share; only keep yourself in good-humor for the day.

DEM. I’ll carry off that Music-girl along with me as well.

MIC. You will gain your point; by that means you will keep your son fast there; only take care to secure her.

DEM. I’ll see to that; and what with cooking and grinding, I’ll take care she shall be well covered with ashes, smoke, and meal; besides {all} this, at the very mid-day[86] I’ll set her gathering stubble; I’ll make her as burned and as black as a coal.

MIC. You quite delight me; now you seem to me to be wise; and for my