SOS. My {dear} Geta, why in such haste? Do take breath.
GETA. Quite-- (_pauses._)
SOS. Why, what means this “quite”?
GETA. Undone-- It’s all over with us.
SOS. Say, then, I entreat you, what is the matter.
GETA. Now----
SOS. What “now,” Geta?
GETA. Æschinus----
SOS. What about him?
GETA. Has abandoned our family.
SOS. Then I am undone! Why so?
GETA. He has attached himself to another woman.
SOS. Woe unto wretched me!
GETA. And he makes no secret of it; he himself has carried her off
openly from a procurer.
SOS. Are you quite sure of this?
GETA. Quite sure; I saw it myself, Sostrata, with these same eyes.
SOS. Ah wretched me! What is one now to believe, or whom believe? Our
own Æschinus, the {very} life of us all, in whom all our hopes and
comforts were centred! Who used to swear he could never live a single
day without her! Who used to say, that he would place the infant on
his father’s knees,[48] {and} thus entreat that he might be allowed to
make her his wife!
GETA. {Dear} mistress, forbear weeping, and rather consider what must
be done for the future in this matter. Shall we submit to it, or shall
we tell it to any person?
CAN. Pooh, pooh! are you in your senses, my {good} man? Does this seem
to you a business to be made known to any one?
GETA. I, indeed, have no wish for it. In the first place, then, that
his feelings are estranged from us, the thing itself declares. Now, if
we make this known, he’ll deny it, I’m quite sure; your reputation and
your daughter’s character will {then} be in danger. On the other hand,
if he were fully to confess it, as he is in love with another woman,
it would not be to her advantage to be given to him. Therefore, under
either circumstance, there is need of silence.
SOS. Oh! by no means in the world! I’ll not do it.
GETA. What is it you say?
SOS. I’ll make it known.
GETA. Ha, my {dear} Sostrata, take care what you do!
SOS. The matter can not possibly be in a worse position than it is at
present. In the first place, she has no portion; then, besides, that
which was as good as a portion, {her honor}, is lost: she can not be
given in marriage as a virgin. This {resource} is left; if he should
deny it, I have a ring which he lost as evidence {of the truth}. In
fine, Geta, as I am fully conscious that no blame attaches to me, and
that neither interest nor any consideration unworthy of her or of
myself has had a share in this matter, I will make trial----
GETA. What am I to say to this? I agree, as you speak for the best.
SOS. You be off as fast as possible, and relate all the matter just as
it has happened to her kinsman Hegio; for he was the best friend of
our {lamented} Simulus, and has shown especial regard for us.
GETA. (_aside._) Aye, faith, because nobody else takes any notice {of
us}.
SOS. Do you, my {dear} Canthara, run with all haste, {and} fetch the
midwife, so that, when she is wanted, we may not have to wait for her.
(_SOSTRATA goes into the house, and exit GETA and CANTHARA._)
SCENE III.
_Enter DEMEA._
DEM. (_to himself._) Utterly undone! I hear that Ctesipho was with
Æschinus at the carrying off {of this girl}. This sorrow {still}
remains for unhappy me, should {Æschinus} be able to seduce him, even
him, who promises so fair, to a course of debauchery. Where am I to
inquire for him? I doubt he has been carried off to some bad house;
that profligate has persuaded him, I’m quite sure. But look-- I see
Syrus coming {this way}, I shall now know from him where he is. But,
i’faith, he is one of the gang; if he perceives that I am looking for
him, the rascal will never tell me. I’ll not let him know what I want.
SCENE IV.
_Enter SYRUS, at the other side of the stage._
SYR. (_to himself._) We just now told the old gentleman the whole
affair just as it happened; I never did see any one more delighted.
DEM. (_apart._) O Jupiter! the folly of the man!
SYR. (_continuing._) He commended his son. To me, who put them upon
this project, he gave thanks----
DEM. (_apart_) I shall burst asunder.
SYR. (_continuing._) He told down the money instantly, {and} gave me
half a mina besides to spend. That was laid out quite to my liking.
DEM. (_apart._) Very fine-- if you would wish a thing to be nicely
managed, intrust it to this {fellow}.
SYR. (_overhearing him._) Ha, Demea! I didn’t see you; how goes it?
DEM. How should it go? I can not enough wonder at your mode of living
{here}.
SYR. Why, really silly enough, and, to speak without disguise,
{altogether} absurd. (_Calls at the door of MICIO’S house._) Dromo,
clean the rest of the fish; let the largest conger-eel play a little
in the water; when I come {back} it shall be boned;[49] not before.
DEM. Is profligacy like this----
SYR. As for myself, it isn’t to my taste, and I often exclaim {against
it}. (_Calls at the door._) Stephanio, take care that the salt fish is
well soaked.
DEM. Ye Gods, by our trust in you! is he doing this for any purpose of
his own, or does he think it creditable to ruin {his} son? Wretch that
I am! methinks I already see the day when {Æschinus} will be running
away for want, to serve somewhere or other as a soldier.[50]
SYR. O Demea! that is wisdom {indeed},-- not only to look at the
present moment, but also to look forward to what’s to come.
DEM. Well-- is this Music-girl still with you?
SYR. Why, yes, she’s in-doors.
DEM. How now-- is he going to keep her at home?
SYR. I believe so; such is his madness!
DEM. Is it possible?
SYR. An imprudent lenity in his father, and a vicious indulgence.
DEM. Really, I am ashamed and grieved at my brother.
SYR. Demea! between you there is a great-- I do not say it because you
are here present-- a too great difference. You are, every bit of you,
nothing but wisdom; he a {mere} dreamer. Would you indeed have
suffered that son of yours to act thus?
DEM. I, suffer him? Would I not have smelt it out six months before he
attempted it?
SYR. Need I be told by you of your foresight?
DEM. I pray he may only continue the same he is at present!
SYR. Just as each person wishes his son to be, so he turns out.
DEM. What news of him? Have you seen him to-day?
SYR. What, your son? (_Aside._) I’ll pack him off into the country.
(_To DEMEA._) I fancy he’s busy at the farm long before this.
DEM. Are you quite sure he is there?
SYR. What! --when I saw him part of the way {myself}----
DEM. Very good. I was afraid he might be loitering here.
SYR. And extremely angry too.
DEM. Why so?
SYR. He attacked his brother in the Forum with strong language about
this Music-girl.
DEM. Do you really say so?
SYR. Oh dear, he didn’t at all mince the matter; for just as the money
was being counted out, the gentleman came upon us by chance, {and}
began exclaiming, “Oh Æschinus, that you should perpetrate these
enormities! that you should be guilty of actions {so} disgraceful to
our family!”
DEM. Oh, I shall weep for joy.
SYR. “By this you are not squandering your money {only}, but your
reputation.”
DEM. May he be preserved to me! I trust he will be like his
forefathers. (_Weeping._)
SYR. (_aside._) Heyday!
DEM. Syrus, he is full of these maxims.
SYR. (_aside._) Strange, indeed! He had the means at home of learning
them.
DEM. I do every thing I can; I spare no pains; I train him up to it:
in fine, I bid him look into the lives of men, as though into a
mirror, and from others to take an example for himself. Do this, {I
say}----
SYR. Quite right.
DEM. Avoid that----
SYR. Very shrewd.
DEM. This is praiseworthy----
SYR. That’s the thing.
DEM. That is considered blamable----
SYR. Extremely good.
DEM. And then, moreover----
SYR. Upon my honor, I have not the leisure to listen to you just at
present: I have got some fish just to my taste, {and} must take care
they are not spoiled; for that would be as much a crime in me, as for
you, Demea, not to observe those maxims which you have just been
mentioning; and so far as I can, I lay down precepts for my
fellow-servants on the very same plan; “this is {too} salt, that is
quite burned up, this is not washed enough, that is {very} well done;
remember {and do} so another time.” I carefully instruct them so far
as I can to the best of my capacity. In short, Demea, I bid them look
into their sauce-pans as though into a mirror,[51] and suggest to them
what they ought to do. I am sensible these things are trifling which
we do; but what is one to do? According as the man is, so must you
humor him. Do you wish any thing else?
DEM. That more wisdom may be granted you.
SYR. You will be going off into the country, {I suppose}?
DEM. Directly.
SYR. For what should you do here, where, if you do give any good
precepts, no one will regard them? (_Goes into MICIO’S house._)
SCENE V.
_DEMEA, alone._
DEM. (_to himself._) I certainly will be off, as he on whose account I
came hither has gone into the country. I have a care for him: that
alone is my own concern, since my brother will have it so; let him
look to the other himself. But who is it I see yonder at a distance?
Isn’t it Hegio of our tribe?[52] If I see right, i’faith, it is he.
Ah, a man I have been friendly with from a child! Good Gods! we
certainly have a great dearth of citizens of that stamp nowadays, with
the old-fashioned virtue and honesty. Not in a hurry will any
misfortune accrue to the public from him. How glad I am to find some
remnants of this race even still remaining; now I feel some pleasure
in living. I’ll wait here for him, to ask him how he is, and have some
conversation with him.
SCENE VI.
_Enter HEGIO and GETA, conversing, at a distance._
HEG. Oh immortal Gods! a disgraceful action, Geta! What is it you tell
me?
GETA. Such is the fact.
HEG. That so ignoble a deed should come from that family! Oh Æschinus,
assuredly you haven’t taken after your father in that!
DEM. (_apart._) Why surely, he has heard this about the Music-girl;
that gives him concern, {though} a stranger; this father {of his}
thinks nothing of it. Ah me! I wish he were somewhere close at hand to
overhear this.
HEG. Unless they do as they ought to do, they shall not come off so
easily.
GETA. All our hopes, Hegio, are centred in you; you we have for {our}
only {friend}; you are our protector, our father. The old man,
{Simulus}, when dying, recommended us to you; if you forsake us, we
are undone.
HEG. Beware how you mention {that}; I neither will do it, nor do I
think thaat; with due regard to the ties of relationship, I could.
DEM. (_apart._) I’ll accost him. (_Approaches HEGIO._) Hegio, I bid
you welcome right heartily.
HEG. (_starting._) Oh! I you are the very man I was looking for.
Greetings to you, Demea.
DEM. Why, what’s the matter?
HEG. Your eldest son Æschinus, whom you gave to your brother to adopt,
has been acting the part of neither an honest man nor a gentleman.
DEM. What has he been doing?
HEG. You knew my friend and year’s-mate, Simulus?
DEM. Why not?
HEG. He has debauched his daughter, a virgin.
DEM. Hah!
HEG. Stay, Demea. You have not yet heard the worst.
DEM. Is there any thing still worse?
HEG. Worse, by far: for this indeed might in some measure have been
borne with. The hour of night prompted him; passion, wine, young
blood; ’tis human nature. When he was sensible of what he had done, he
came voluntarily to the girl’s mother, weeping, praying, entreating,
pledging his honor, vowing that he would take her home.[53] {The
affair} was pardoned, hushed, up, his word taken. The girl from that
intercourse became pregnant: {this} is the tenth month. He, worthy
fellow, has provided himself, if it please the Gods, with a Music-girl
to live with; the other he has cast off.
DEM. Do you say this for certain?
HEG. The mother of the young woman is among us,[54] the young woman
too; the fact {speaks for} itself; this Geta, besides, according to
the common run of servants, not a bad one or of idle habits; he
supports them; alone, maintains the whole family; take him, bind
him,[55] examine him upon the matter.
GETA. Aye, faith, put me to the torture, Demea, if such is not the
fact: besides, he will not deny it. Confront me with him.
DEM. (_aside._) I am ashamed; and what to do, or how to answer him,
I don’t know.
PAM. (_crying out within the house of SOSTRATA._) Ah me! I am racked
with pains! Juno Lucina,[56] bring aid, save me, I beseech thee!
HEG. Hold; is she in labor, pray?
GETA. No doubt of it, Hegio.
HEG. Ah! she is now imploring your protection, Demea; let her obtain
from you spontaneously what the power {of the law} compels you to
give. I do entreat the Gods that what befits you may at once be done.
But if your sentiments are otherwise, Demea, I will defend both them
and him who is dead to the utmost of my power. He was my kinsman:[57]
we were brought up together from children, we were companions in the
wars and at home, together we experienced the hardships of poverty.
I will therefore exert myself, strive, use all methods, in fine lay
down my life, rather than forsake these women. What answer do you give
me?
DEM. I’ll go find my brother, Hegio: the advice he gives me upon this
matter I’ll follow.[58]
HEG. But, Demea, take you care and reflect upon this: the more easy
you are in your circumstances, the more powerful, wealthy, affluent,
{and} noble you are, so much the more ought you with equanimity to
observe {the dictates of} justice, if you would have yourselves
esteemed as men of probity.
DEM. Go back {now};[59] every thing shall be done that is proper to be
done.
HEG. It becomes you to act {thus}. Geta, show me in to Sostrata.
(_Follows GETA into SOSTRATA’S house._)
DEM. (_to himself._) Not without warning on my part have these things
happened: I only wish it may end here; but this immoderate indulgence
will undoubtedly lead to some great misfortune. I’ll go find my
brother, and vent these feelings upon him. (_Exit._
SCENE VII.
_Enter HEGIO, from SOSTRATA’S house, and speaking to her within._
HEG. Be of good heart,[60] Sostrata, and take care and console her as
far as you can. I’ll go find Micio, if he is at the Forum, and
acquaint him with the whole circumstances in their order; if so it is
that he will do his duty {by you}, let him do so; but if his
sentiments are otherwise about this matter, let him give me his
answer, that I may know at once what I am to do. (_Exit._
ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I.
_Enter CTESIPHO and SYRUS from the house of MICIO._
CTES. My father gone into the country, say you?
SYR. (_with a careless air._) Some time since.
CTES. Do tell me, I beseech you.
SYR. He is at the farm at this very moment,[61] I warrant-- hard at
some work or other.
CTES. I really wish, provided it be done with no prejudice to his
health, I wish that he may so effectually tire himself, that, for the
next three days together, he may be unable to arise from his bed.
SYR. So be it, and any thing still better than that,[62] if possible.
CTES. Just so; for I do most confoundedly wish to pass this whole day
in merry-making as I have begun it; and for no reason do I detest that
farm so heartily as for its being so near {town}. If it were at a
greater distance, night would overtake him there before he could
return hither again. Now, when he doesn’t find me there, he’ll come
running back here, I’m quite sure; he’ll be asking me where I have
been, that I have not seen him all this day: what am I to say?
SYR. Does nothing suggest itself to your mind?
CTES. Nothing whatever.
SYR. So much the worse[63]-- have you no client, friend, or guest?
CTES. I have; what then?
SYR. You have been engaged with them.
CTES. When I have not been engaged? That can never do.
SYR. It may.
CTES. During the daytime; but if I pass the night here, what excuse
can I make, Syrus?
SYR. Dear me, how much I do wish it was the custom for one to be
engaged with friends at night as well! But you be easy; I know his
humor perfectly well. When he raves the most violently, I can make him
as gentle as a lamb.
CTES. In what way?
SYR. He loves to hear you praised: I make a god of you to him, {and}
recount your virtues.
CTES. What, mine?
SYR. Yours; immediately the tears fall from him as from a child, for
{very} joy. (_Starting._) Hah! take care----
CTES. Why, what’s the matter?
SYR. The wolf in the fable[64]----
CTES. What! my father?
SYR. His own self.
CTES. What shall we do, Syrus?
SYR. You only be off in-doors, I’ll see to that.
CTES. If he makes any inquiries, you {have seen} me nowhere; do you
hear?
SYR. Can you not be quiet? (_They retreat to the door of MICIO’S
house, and CTESIPHO stands in the doorway._)
SCENE II.
_Enter DEMEA, on the other side of the stage._
DEM. (_to himself._) I certainly am an unfortunate man. In the first
place, I can find my brother nowhere; and then, in the next place,
while looking for him, I met a day-laborer[65] from the farm; he says
that my son is not in the country, and what to do I know not----
CTES. (_apart._) Syrus!
SYR. (_apart._) What’s the matter?
CTES. (_apart._) Is he looking for me?
SYR. (_apart._) Yes.
CTES. (_apart._) Undone!
SYR. (_apart._) Nay, do be of good heart.
DEM. (_to himself._) Plague on it! what ill luck is this? I can not
really account for it, unless I suppose myself {only} born for the
purpose of enduring misery. I am the first to feel our misfortunes;
the first to know of them all; then the first to carry the news; I am
the only one, if any thing does go wrong, to take it to heart.
SYR. (_apart._) I’m amused at him; he says that he is the first to
know of {every thing, while} he is the only one ignorant of every
thing.
DEM. (_to himself._) I’ve now come back; and I’ll go see whether
perchance my brother has yet returned.
CTES. (_apart._) Syrus, pray do take care that he doesn’t suddenly
rush in upon us here.
SYR. (_apart._) Now will you hold your tongue? I’ll take care.
CTES. (_apart._) Never this day will I depend on your management for
that, upon my faith; for I’ll shut myself up with her in some
cupboard[66]-- that’s the safest. (_Goes into the house._)
SYR. (_apart._) Do so, still I’ll get rid of him.
DEM. (_seeing SYRUS._) But see! there’s that rascal, Syrus.
SYR. (_aloud, pretending not to see DEMEA._) Really, upon my faith, no
person can stay here, if this is to be the case! For my part, I should
like to know how many masters I have-- what a cursed condition this
is!
DEM. What’s he whining about? What does he mean? How say you, good
sir, is my brother at home?
SYR. What the plague do you talk to me about, “good sir”? I’m quite
distracted!
DEM. What’s the matter with you?
SYR. Do you ask the question? Ctesipho has been beating me, poor
wretch, and that Music-girl, almost to death.
DEM. Ha! what is it you tell me?
SYR. Aye, see how he has cut my lip. (_Pretends to point to it._)
DEM. For what reason?
SYR. He says that she was bought by my advice.
DEM. Did not you tell me, a short time since, that you had seen him on
his way into the country?
SYR. I did; but he afterward came back, raving like a madman; he
spared nobody-- ought he not to have been ashamed to beat an old man?
Him whom, only the other day, I used to carry about in my arms when
thus high? (_Showing._)
DEM. I commend him; O Ctesipho, you take after your father. Well, I do
pronounce you a man.
SYR. Commend him? Assuredly he will keep his hands to himself in
future, if he’s wise.
DEM. {’Twas done} with spirit.
SYR. Very much so, to be beating a poor woman, and me, a slave, who
didn’t dare strike him in return; heyday! very spirited indeed!
DEM. He could not {have done} better: he thought the same as I {did},
that you were the principal in this affair. But is my brother within?
SYR. He is not.
DEM. I’m thinking where to look for him.
SYR. I know where he is-- but I shall not tell you at present.
DEM. Ha! what’s that you say?
SYR. {I do say} so.
DEM. Then I’ll break your head for you this instant.
SYR. I can’t tell the person’s name {he’s gone to}, but I know the
place where he lives.
DEM. Tell me the place then.
SYR. Do you know the portico down this way, just by the shambles?
(_Pointing in the direction._)
DEM. How should I but know it?
SYR. Go straight along, right up that street; when you come there,
there is a descent right opposite that goes downward, go straight down
that; afterward, on this side (_extending one hand_), there is a
chapel: close by it is a narrow lane, where there’s also a great wild
fig-tree.
DEM. I know it.
SYR. Go through that--
DEM. But that lane is not a thoroughfare.
SYR. I’ faith, that’s true; dear, dear, would you take me to be in my
senses?[67] I made a mistake. Return to the portico; indeed that will
be a much nearer way, and there is less going round about: you know
the house of Cratinus, the rich man?
DEM. I know it.
SYR. When you have passed that, keep straight along that street on the
left hand;[68] when you come to the Temple of Diana, turn to the
right; before you come to the {city} gate,[69] just by that pond,
there is a baker’s shop, and opposite to it a joiner’s; there he is.
DEM. What is he doing there?
SYR. He has given some couches to be made, with oaken legs, for use in
the open air.[70]
DEM. For you to carouse upon! Very fine! But {why} do I delay going to
him? (_Exit._)
SCENE III.
_SYRUS alone._
SYR. Go, by all means. I’ll work you to day, {you} skeleton,[71] as
you deserve. Æschinus loiters intolerably; the breakfast’s spoiling;
and as for Ctesipho, he’s head and ears in love.[72] I shall now think
of myself, for I’ll be off at once, and pick out the very nicest bit,
and, leisurely sipping my cups,[73] I’ll lengthen out the day. (_Goes
into the house._)
SCENE IV.
_Enter MICIO and HEGIO._
MIC. I can see no reason here, Hegio, that I should be so greatly
commended. I do my duty; the wrong that has originated with us I
redress. Unless, perhaps, you thought me one of that class of men who
think that an injury is purposely done them if you expostulate about
any thing they have done; and yet are {themselves} the first to
accuse. Because I have not acted thus, do you return me thanks?
HEG. Oh, far from it; I never led myself to believe you to be
otherwise than you are; but I beg, Micio, that you will go with me to
the mother of the young woman, and {repeat to her} the same; what you
have told me, do you yourself tell the woman, that this suspicion of
{Æschinus’s fidelity} was incurred on his brother’s account, {and}
that this Music-girl was for him.
MIC. If you think I ought, or if there is a necessity for doing so,
let us go.
HEG. You act with kindness; for you’ll then both have relieved her
mind who is {now} languishing in sorrow and affliction, and have
discharged your duty. But if you think otherwise, I will tell her
myself what you have been saying to me.
MIC. Nay, I’ll go as well.
HEG. You act with kindness; all who are in distressed circumstances
are suspicious,[74] to I know not what degree; they take every thing
too readily as an affront; they fancy themselves trifled with on
account of their helpless condition; therefore it will be more
satisfactory for you to justify him to them yourself. (_They go into
the house of SOSTRATA._)
SCENE V.
_Enter ÆSCHINUS._
I am quite distracted in mind! for this misfortune so unexpectedly to
befall me, that I neither know what to do with myself, or how to act!
My limbs are enfeebled through fear, my faculties bewildered with
apprehension; no counsel is able to find a place within my breast.
Alas! how to extricate myself from this perplexity I know not; so
strong a suspicion has taken possession of them about me; not without
some reason too: Sostrata believes that I have purchased this
Music-girl for {myself}: the old woman informed me of that. For by
accident, when she was sent for the midwife, I saw her, and at once
went up to her. “How is Pamphila?” I inquired; “is her delivery at
hand? Is it for that she is sending for the midwife?” “Away, away,
Æschinus,” cries she; “you have deceived us long enough; already have
your promises disappointed us sufficiently.” “Ha!” said I; “pray what
is the meaning of this?” “Farewell,” {she cries}; “keep to her who is
your choice.” I instantly guessed what it was they suspected, but
still I checked myself, that I might not be telling that gossip any
thing about my brother, whereby it might be divulged. Now what am I to
do? Shall I say she is for my brother, a thing that ought by no means
to be repeated any where? However, let that pass. It is possible it
might go no further. I am afraid they would not believe it, so many
probabilities concur {against it}: ’twas I myself carried her off;
’twas I, my own self, that paid the money {for her}; ’twas my own
house she was carried to. This I confess has been entirely my own
fault. Ought I not to have disclosed this affair, just as it happened,
to my father? I might have obtained his consent to marry her. I have
been too negligent hitherto; henceforth, then, arouse yourself,
Æschinus. This then is the first thing; to go to them and clear
myself. I’ll approach the door. (_Advances to the door of SOSTRATA’S
house._) Confusion! I always tremble most dreadfully when I go to
knock at that {door}. (_Knocking and calling to them within._) Ho
there, ho there! it is Æschinus; open the door immediately, some one.
(_The door opens._) Some person, I know not who, is coming out; I’ll
step aside here. (_He stands apart._)
SCENE VI.
_Enter MICIO from the house of SOSTRATA._
MIC. (_speaking at the door to SOSTRATA._) Do as I told {you},
Sostrata; I’ll go find Æschinus, that he may know how these matters
have been settled. (_Looking round._) But who was it knocking at the
door?
ÆSCH. (_apart._) Heavens, it is my father! --I am undone!
MIC. Æschinus!
ÆSCH. (_aside._) What can be his business here?
MIC. Was it you knocking at this door? (_Aside._) He is silent. Why
shouldn’t I rally him a little? It would be as well, as he was never
willing to trust me with this {secret}. (_To ÆSCHINUS._) Don’t you
answer me?
ÆSCH. (_confusedly._) It wasn’t I {knocked} at that {door}, that I
know of.
MIC. Just so; for I wondered what business you could have here.
(_Apart._) He blushes; all’s well.
ÆSCH. Pray tell me, father, what business have you there?
MIC. Why, none of my own; {but} a certain friend {of mine} just now
brought me hither from the Forum to give him some assistance.
ÆSCH. Why?
MIC. I’ll tell you. There are some women living here; in impoverished
circumstances, as I suppose you don’t know them; and, {in fact}, I’m
quite sure, for it is not long since they removed to this place.
ÆSCH. Well, what next?
MIC. There is a girl living with her mother.
ÆSCH. Go on.
MIC. This girl has lost her father; this friend of mine is her next of
kin; the law obliges him to marry her.[75]
ÆSCH. (_aside._) Undone!
MIC. What’s the matter?
ÆSCH. Nothing. Very well: proceed.
MIC. He has come to take her with him; for he lives at Miletus.
ÆSCH. What! To take the girl away with him?
MIC. Such is the fact.
ÆSCH. All the way to Miletus, pray?[76]
MIC. Yes.
ÆSCH. (_aside._) I’m overwhelmed with grief. (_To MICIO._) {But} what
of them? What do they say?
MIC. What do you suppose they should? Why, nothing at all. The mother
has trumped up a tale, that there is a child by some other man, I know
not who, and she does not state the name; {she says} that he was the
first, {and} that she ought not to be given to the other.
ÆSCH. Well now, does not this seem just to you after all?
MIC. No.
ÆSCH. Why not, pray? Is {the other} to be carrying her away from here?
MIC. Why should he not take her?
ÆSCH. You have acted harshly and unfeelingly, and even, if, father,
I may speak my sentiments more plainly, unhandsomely.
MIC. Why so?
ÆSCH. Do you ask me? Pray, what do you think must be the state of mind
of the man who was first connected with her, who, to his misfortune,
may perhaps still love her to distraction, when he sees her torn away
from before his face, {and} borne off from his sight {forever}? An
unworthy action, father!
MIC. On what grounds is it so? Who betrothed her?[77] Who gave her
away? When {and} to whom was she married? Who was the author of all
this? Why did he connect himself with a woman who belonged to another?
ÆSCH. Was it to be expected that a young woman of her age should sit
at home, waiting till a kinsman {of hers} should come from a distance?
This, my father, you ought to have represented, and have insisted on
it.
MIC. Ridiculous! Was I to have pleaded against him whom I was to
support? But what’s all this, Æschinus, to us? What have we to do with
them? Let us begone:---- What’s the matter? Why these tears?
ÆSCH. (_weeping._) Father, I beseech you, listen to me.
MIC. Æschinus, I have heard and know it all; for I love you, and
therefore every thing you do is the more a care to me.
ÆSCH. So do I wish you to find me deserving of your love, as long as
you live, my {dear} father, as I am sincerely sorry for the offense I
have committed, and am ashamed to see you.
MIC. Upon my word I believe it, for I know your ingenuous disposition:
but I am afraid that you are too inconsiderate. In what city, pray, do
you suppose you live? You have debauched a virgin, whom it was not
lawful for you to touch. In the first place then that was a great
offense; great, but still natural. Others, and even men of worth, have
frequently done the same. But after it happened, pray, did you show
any circumspection? Or did you use any foresight as to what was to be
done, {or} how it was to be done? If you were ashamed to tell me of
it, by what means was I to come to know it? While you were at a loss
upon these points, ten months have been lost. So far indeed as lay in
your power, you have periled both yourself {and} this poor {girl}, and
the child. What did you imagine-- that the Gods would set these
matters to rights for you while you were asleep, and that she would be
brought home to your chamber without any exertions of your own?
I would not have you to be equally negligent in other affairs. Be of
good heart, you shall have her for your wife.
ÆSCH. Hah!
MIC. Be of good heart, I tell you.
ÆSCH. Father, are you now jesting with me, pray?
MIC. I, {jesting} with you! For what reason?
ÆSCH. I don’t know; but so anxiously do I wish this to be true, that I
am the more afraid it may not be.
MIC. Go home, and pray to the Gods that you may have your wife; be
off.
ÆSCH. What! have my wife now?
MIC. Now.
ÆSCH. Now?
MIC. Now, as soon as possible.
ÆSCH. May all the Gods detest me, father, if I do not love you better
than even my very eyes!
MIC. What! {better} than her?
ÆSCH. Quite as well.
MIC. Very kind of you!
ÆSCH. Well, where is this Milesian?
MIC. Departed, vanished, gone on board ship; but why do you delay?
ÆSCH. Father, do you rather go and pray to the Gods; for I know, for
certain, that they will rather be propitious to you,[78] as being a
much better man than I {am}.
MIC. I’ll go in-doors, that what is requisite may be prepared. You do
as I said, if you are wise. (_Goes into his house._)
SCENE VII.
_ÆSCHINUS alone._
ÆSCH. What can be the meaning of this? Is this being a father, or this
being a son? If he had been a brother or {familiar} companion, how
could he have been more complaisant! Is he not worthy to be beloved?
Is he not to be imprinted in my very bosom? Well then, the more does
he impose an obligation on me by his kindness, to take due precaution
not inconsiderately to do any thing that he may not wish. But why do I
delay going in-doors this instant, that I may not myself delay my own
nuptials? (_Goes into the house of MICIO._)
SCENE VIII.
_Enter DEMEA._
I am quite tired with walking: May the great Jupiter confound you,
Syrus, together with your directions! I have crawled the whole city
over; to the gate, to the pond-- where not? There was no joiner’s shop
there; not a soul could say he had seen my brother; but now I’m
determined to sit and wait at his house till he returns.
SCENE IX.
_Enter MICIO from his house._
MIC. (_speaking to the people within._) I’ll go and tell them there’s
no delay on our part.
DEM. But see here’s the very man: O Micio, I have been seeking you
this long time.
MIC. Why, what’s the matter?
DEM. I’m bringing you some new and great enormities of that hopeful
youth.
MIC. Just look at that!
DEM. Fresh ones, of blackest dye.
MIC. There now-- at it again.
DEM. Ah, {Micio}! you little know what sort of person he is.
MIC. I do.
DEM. O simpleton! you are dreaming that I’m talking about the
Music-girl; this crime is against a virgin {and} a citizen.
MIC. I know it.
DEM. So then, you know it, and put up with it!
MIC. Why not put up with it?
DEM. Tell me, pray, don’t you exclaim about it? Don’t you go
distracted?
MIC. Not I: certainly I had rather[79]----
DEM. There has been a child born.
MIC. May the Gods be propitious {to it}.
DEM. The girl has no fortune.
MIC. {So} I have heard.
DEM. And he-- must he marry her without one?
MIC. Of course.
DEM. What is to be done then?
MIC. Why, what the case itself points out: the young woman must be
brought hither.
DEM. O Jupiter! must that be the way {then}?
MIC. What can I do else?
DEM. What can you do? If in reality this causes you no concern, to
pretend it were surely the duty of a man.
MIC. But I have already betrothed the young woman {to him}; the matter
is settled: the marriage takes place {to-day}. I have removed all
apprehensions. This is rather the duty of a man.
DEM. But does the affair please you, Micio?
MIC. If I were able to alter it, no; now, as I can not, I bear it with
patience. The life of man is just like playing with dice:[80] if that
which you most want to throw does not turn up, what turns up by chance
you must correct by art.
DEM. {O rare} corrector! of course it is by your art that twenty minæ
have been thrown away for a Music-girl; who, as soon as possible, must
be got rid of at any price; and if not for money, why then for
nothing.
MIC. Not at all, and indeed I have no wish to sell her.
DEM. What will you do with her then?
MIC. She shall be at my house.
DEM. For heaven’s sake, a courtesan and a matron in the same house!
MIC. Why not?
DEM. Do you imagine you are in your senses?
MIC. Really I do think {so}.
DEM. So may the Gods prosper me, I {now} see your folly; I believe you
are going to do so that you may have somebody to practice music with.
MIC. Why not?
DEM. And the new-made bride to be learning too?
MIC. Of course.
DEM. Having hold of the rope,[81] you will be dancing with them.
MIC. Like enough; and you too along with us, if there’s need.
DEM. Ah me! are you not ashamed of this?
MIC. Demea, do, for once, lay aside this anger of yours, and show
yourself as you ought at your son’s wedding, cheerful and
good-humored. I’ll just step over to them, {and} return immediately.
(_Goes into SOSTRATA’S house._)
SCENE X.
_DEMEA alone._
DEM. O Jupiter! here’s a life! here are manners! here’s madness!
A wife to be coming without a fortune! A music-wench in the house!
A house full of wastefulness! A young man ruined by extravagance! An
old man in his dotage! --Should Salvation herself[82] desire it, she
certainly could not save this family. (_Exit._
ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I.
_Enter SYRUS, drunk, and DEMEA, on the opposite side of the stage._
SYR. Upon my faith, my dear little Syrus, you have taken delicate care
of yourself, and have done your duty[83] with exquisite taste; be off
with you. But since I’ve had my fill of every thing in-doors, I have
felt disposed to take a walk.
DEM. (_apart._) Just look at that-- there’s an instance of their
{good} training!
SYR. (_to himself._) But see, here comes our old man. (_Addressing
him._) What’s the matter? Why out of spirits?
DEM. Oh you rascal!
SYR. Hold now; are you spouting your sage maxims here?
DEM. If you were my {servant}----
SYR. Why, you would be a rich man, Demea, and improve your estate.
DEM. I would take care that you should be an example to all the rest.
SYR. For what reason? What have I done?
DEM. Do you ask me? in the midst of this confusion, and during the
greatest mischief, which is hardly yet set right, you have been
getting drunk, you villain, as though things had been going on well.
SYR. (_aside._) Really, I wish I hadn’t come out.
SCENE II.
_Enter DROMO in haste, from the house of MICIO._
DRO. Halloo, Syrus! Ctesipho desires you’ll come back.
SYR. Get you gone. (_Pushes him back into the house._)
DEM. What is it he says about Ctesipho?
SYR. Nothing.
DEM. How now, {you} hang-dog, is Ctesipho in the house?
SYR. He is not.
DEM. {Then} why does he mention him?
SYR. It’s another person; a little diminutive Parasite. Don’t you know
him?
DEM. I will know him before long. (_Going to the door._)
SYR. (_stopping him._) What are you about? Whither are you going?
DEM. (_struggling._) Let me alone.
SYR. (_holding him._) Don’t, I tell you.
DEM. Won’t you keep your hands off, whip-scoundrel? Or would you like
me to knock your brains out this instant? (_Rushes into the house._)
SYR. He’s gone! no very pleasant boon-companion, upon my faith,
particularly to Ctesipho. What am I to do now? Why, even get into some
corner till this tempest is lulled, and sleep off this drop of wine.
That’s my plan. (_Goes into the house, staggering._)
SCENE III.
_Enter MICIO, from the house of SOSTRATA._
MIC. (_to SOSTRATA, within._) Every thing’s ready with us, as I told
you, Sostrata, when you like. --Who, I wonder, is making my door fly
open with such fury?
_Enter DEMEA in haste, from the house of MICIO._
DEM. Alas! what shall I do? How behave? In what terms exclaim, or how
make my complaint? O heavens! O earth! O seas of Neptune!
MIC. (_apart._) Here’s for you! he has discovered all about the
affair; {and} of course is now raving about it; a quarrel is the
consequence; I must assist him,[84] {however}. DEM. See, here comes
the common corrupter of my children.
MIC. Pray moderate your passion, and recover yourself.
DEM. I have moderated it; I am myself; I forbear all reproaches; let
us come to the point: was this agreed upon between us,-- proposed by
yourself, in fact,-- that you were not to concern yourself about my
{son}, nor I about yours? Answer me.
MIC. It is the fact,-- I don’t deny it.
DEM. Why is he now carousing at your house? Why are you harboring my
son? Why do you purchase a mistress for him, Micio? Is it at all fair,
that I should have any less justice from you, than you from me? Since
I do not concern myself about your {son}, don’t you concern yourself
about mine.
MIC. You don’t reason fairly.
DEM. No?
MIC. For surely it is a maxim of old, that among themselves all things
are common to friends.
DEM. Smartly {said}; you’ve got that speech up for the occasion.
MIC. Listen to a few words, unless it is disagreeable, Demea. In the
first place, if the extravagance your sons are guilty of distresses
you, pray do reason with yourself. You formerly brought up the two
suitably to your circumstances, thinking that your own property would
have to suffice for them both; and, of course, you then thought that I
should marry. Adhere to that same old rule {of yours},-- save, scrape
together, {and} be thrifty {for them}; take care to leave them as much
as possible, and {take} that credit to yourself: my fortune, which has
come to them beyond their expectation, allow them to enjoy; of {your}
captial there will be no diminution; what comes from this quarter, set
it {all} down as so much gain. If you think proper impartially to
consider these matters in your mind, Demea, you will save me and
yourself, and them, {considerable} uneasiness.
DEM. I don’t speak about the expense; their morals--
MIC. Hold; I understand you; that point I was coming to.[85] There are
in men, Demea, many signs from which a conjecture is easily formed;
{so that} when two persons do the same thing, you may often say, this
one may be allowed to do it with impunity, the other may not; not that
the thing {itself} is different, but that he is who does it. I see
{signs} in them, so as to feel confident that they will turn out as we
wish. I see that they have good sense and understanding, that they
have modesty upon occasion, {and} are affectionate to each other; you
may infer that their bent and disposition is of a pliant nature; at
any time you like you may reclaim them. But still, you may be
apprehensive that they will be somewhat too apt to neglect their
interests. O my {dear} Demea, in all other things we grow wiser with
age; this sole vice does old age bring upon men: we are all more
solicitous about our own interests than we need be; and in this
respect age will make them sharp enough.
DEM. Only {take care}, Micio, that these fine reasonings of yours, and
this easy disposition of yours, do not ruin us {in the end}.
MIC. Say no more; there’s no danger of that. Now think no further of
these matters. Put yourself to-day into my hands; smooth your brow.
DEM. Why, as the occasion requires it, I must do so; but to-morrow {I
shall be off} with my son into the country at daybreak.
MIC. Aye, to-night, for my share; only keep yourself in good-humor for
the day.
DEM. I’ll carry off that Music-girl along with me as well.
MIC. You will gain your point; by that means you will keep your son
fast there; only take care to secure her.
DEM. I’ll see to that; and what with cooking and grinding, I’ll take
care she shall be well covered with ashes, smoke, and meal; besides
{all} this, at the very mid-day[86] I’ll set her gathering stubble;
I’ll make her as burned and as black as a coal.
MIC. You quite delight me; now you seem to me to be wise; and for my
part I would then compel my son to go to bed with her, even though he
should be unwilling.
DEM. Do you banter me? Happy man, to have such a temper! I feel--
MIC. Ah! at it again!
DEM. I’ll have done then at once.
MIC. Go in-doors then, and let’s devote this day to the object[87] to
which it belongs. (_Goes into the house._)
SCENE IV.
_DEMEA alone._
DEM. Never was there any person of ever such well-trained habits of
life, but that experience, age, {and} custom are always bringing {him}
something new, {or} suggesting something; so much so, that what you
believe you know you don’t know, and what you have fancied of first
importance to you, on making trial you reject; and this is my case at
present: for the rigid life I have hitherto led, my race nearly run,
I {now} renounce. Why so? --I have found, by experience, that there is
nothing better for a man than an easy temper and complacency. That
this is the truth, it is easy for any one to understand on comparing
me with my brother. He has always spent his life in ease {and} gayety;
mild, gentle, offensive to no one, having a smile for all, he has
lived for himself, {and} has spent his money for himself; all men
speak well of him, {all} love him. I, {again}, a rustic, a rigid,
cross, self-denying, morose and thrifty person, married a wife; what
misery I entailed in consequence! Sons were born-- a fresh care. And
just look, while I have been studying to do as much as possible for
them, I have worn out my life and years in saving; now, in the decline
of my days, the return I get from them for my pains {is} their
dislike. He, on the other hand, without any trouble on his part,
enjoys a father’s comforts; they love him; me they shun; him they
trust with all their secrets, are fond of him, are {always} with him.
I am forsaken; they wish him to live; but my death, forsooth, they are
longing for. Thus, after bringing them up with all possible pains, at
a trifling cost he has made them his own; thus I bear all the misery,
he enjoys the pleasure. Well, then, henceforward let us try, on the
other hand, whether I can’t speak kindly and act complaisantly, as he
challenges me to it: I also want myself to be loved and highly valued
by my friends. If that is to be effected by giving and indulging,
I will not be behind him. If our means fail, that least concerns me,
as I am the eldest.[88]
SCENE V.
_Enter SYRUS._
SYR. Hark you, Demea, your brother begs you will not go out of the
way.
DEM. Who {is it}? --O Syrus, my {friend},[89] save you! how are you?
How goes it {with you}?
SYR. Very well.
DEM. Very good. (_Aside._) I have now for the first time used these
three expressions contrary to my nature,-- “O Syrus, my {friend}, how
are you? --how goes it with you?” (_To SYRUS._) You show yourself far
from an unworthy servant, and I shall gladly do you a service.
SYR. I thank you.
DEM. Yes, Syrus, it is the truth; and you shall be convinced of it by
experience before long.
SCENE VI.
_Enter GETA, from the house of SOSTRATA._
GETA (_to SOSTRATA, within._) Mistress, I am going to see after them,
that they may send for the damsel as soon as possible; but see, here’s
Demea. (_Accosting him._) Save you!
DEM. O, what’s your name?
GETA. Geta.
DEM. Geta, I have this day come to the conclusion that you are a man
of very great worth, for I look upon him as an undoubtedly good
servant who has a care for his master; as I have found to be your
case, Geta; and for that reason, if any opportunity should offer,
I would gladly do you a service. (_Aside._) I am practicing the
affable, and it succeeds very well.
GETA. You are kind, sir, to think so.
DEM. (_aside._) Getting on by degrees-- I’ll first make the lower
classes my own.
SCENE VII.
_Enter ÆSCHINUS, from the house of MICIO._
ÆSCH. (_to himself._) They really are killing me while too intent on
performing the nuptials with all ceremony; the {whole} day is being
wasted in their preparations.
DEM. Æschinus! how goes it?
ÆSCH. Ha, my father! are you here?
DEM. Your father, indeed, both by affection and by nature; as I love
you more than my very eyes; but why don’t you send for your wife?
ÆSCH. {So} I wish {to do}; but I am waiting for the music-girl[90] and
people to sing the nuptial song.
DEM. Come now, are you willing to listen to an old fellow like me?
ÆSCH. What {is it}?
DEM. Let those things alone, the nuptial song, the crowds, the
torches,[91] {and} the music-girls, and order the stone wall in the
garden[92] here to be pulled down with all dispatch, {and} bring her
over that way; make but one house {of the two}; bring the mother and
all the domestics over to our house.
ÆSCH. With all my heart, kindest father.
DEM. (_aside._) Well done! now I am called “kind.” My brother’s house
will become a thoroughfare; he will be bringing home a multitude,
incurring expense in many ways: what matters it to me? I, as the kind
{Demea}, shall get into favor. Now then, bid that Babylonian[93] pay
down his twenty minæ. (_To SYRUS._) Syrus, do you delay to go and do
it?
SYR. What {am I to do}?
DEM. Pull down {the wall}: and you, {Geta}, go and bring them across.
GETA. May the Gods bless you, Demea, as I see you so sincere a
well-wisher to our family. (_GETA and SYRUS go into MICIO’S house._)
DEM. I think they deserve it. What say you, {Æschinus, as to this
plan}?
ÆSCH. I quite agree to it.
DEM. It is much more proper than that she, being sick {and} lying-in,
should be brought hither through the street.
ÆSCH. Why, my {dear} father, I never did see any thing better
contrived.
DEM. It’s my way; but see, here’s Micio coming out.
SCENE VIII.
_Enter MICIO, from his house._
MIC. (_speaking to GETA, within._) Does my brother order it? Where is
he? (_To DEMEA._) Is this your order, Demea?
DEM. Certainly, I do order it, and in this matter, and in every thing
else, {wish} especially to make this family one with ourselves, to
oblige, serve, {and} unite them.
ÆSCH. Father, pray let it be so.
MIC. I do not oppose it.
DEM. On the contrary, i’ faith, it is what we ought to do: in the
first place, she is the mother of his wife (_pointing to Æschinus_).
MIC. She is. What then?
DEM. An honest and respectable woman.
MIC. So they say.
DEM. Advanced in years.
MIC. I am aware of it.
DEM. Through her years, she is long past child-bearing; there is no
one to take care of her; she is a lone woman.
MIC. (_aside._) What can be his meaning?
DEM. It is right you should marry her; and that you, {Æschinus},
should use your endeavors to effect it.
MIC. I, marry her, indeed?
DEM. You.
MIC. I?
DEM. You, I say.
MIC. You are trifling!
DEM. {Æschinus}, if you are a man, he’ll do it.
ÆSCH. My {dear} father----
MIC. What, ass! do you attend to him?
DEM. ’Tis all in vain; it can not be otherwise.
MIC. You are mad!
ÆSCH. Do let me prevail on you, my father.
MIC. Are you out of your senses? Take yourself off.[94]
DEM. Come, do oblige your son.
MIC. Are you quite in your right mind? Am I, in my five-and-sixtieth
year, to be marrying at last? A decrepit old woman too? Do you advise
me {to do} this?
ÆSCH. Do; I have promised it.[95]
MIC. Promised, indeed; be generous at your own cost, young man.
DEM. Come, what if he should ask a still greater favor?
MIC. As if this was not the greatest!
DEM. Do comply.
ÆSCH. Don’t make any difficulty.
DEM. Do promise.
MIC. Will you not have done?
ÆSCH. Not until I have prevailed upon you.
MIC. Really, this is downright force.[96]
DEM. Act with heartiness, Micio.
MIC. Although this seems to me[97] to be wrong, foolish, absurd, and
repugnant to my mode of life, yet, if you so strongly wish it, be it
so.
ÆSCH. You act obligingly.
DEM. With reason I love you; but----
MIC. What?
DEM. I will tell you, when my wish has been complied with.
MIC. What now? What remains {to be done}?
DEM. Hegio here is their nearest relation; {he is} a connection of
ours {and} poor; we ought to do some good for him.
MIC. Do what?
DEM. There is a little farm here in the suburbs, which you let out;
let us give it him to live upon.
MIC. But is it a little one?
DEM. If it were a large one, {still} it ought to be done; he has been
as it were a father to her; he is a worthy man, {and} connected with
us; it would be properly bestowed. In fine, I now adopt that proverb
which you, Micio, a short time ago repeated with sense and wisdom-- it
is the common vice of all, in old age, to be too intent upon our own
interests. This stain we ought to avoid: it is a true maxim, and ought
to be observed in deed.
MIC. What am I to say to this? Well then, as he desires it (_pointing
to ÆSCHINUS_), it shall be given {him}.
ÆSCH. My father!
DEM. Now, Micio, you are {indeed} my brother, both in spirit and in
body.
MIC. I am glad of it.
DEM. (_aside._) I foil him at his own weapon.[98]
SCENE IX.
_Enter SYRUS, from the house._
SYR. It has been done as you ordered, Demea.
DEM. You are a worthy fellow. Upon my faith,-- in my opinion, at
least,-- I think Syrus ought at once to be made free.
MIC. He free! For what reason?
DEM. For many.
SYR. O my {dear} Demea! upon my word, you are a worthy man! I have
strictly taken care of both these {sons} of yours, from childhood;
I have taught, advised, {and} carefully instructed them in every thing
I could.
DEM. The thing is evident; and then besides {all} this, to cater {for
them}, secretly bring home a wench, prepare a morning
entertainment;[99] these are the accomplishments of no ordinary
person.
SYR. O, what a delightful man!
DEM. Last of all, he assisted to-day in purchasing this Music-wench--
he had the management of it; it is right he should be rewarded; other
servants will be encouraged {thereby}: besides, he (_pointing to
ÆSCHINUS_) desires it to be so.
MIC. (_to ÆSCHINUS._) Do you desire this to be done?
ÆSCH. I do wish it.
MIC. Why then, if you desire it, just come hither, Syrus, to me
(_performing the ceremony of manumission_); be a free man.[100]
SYR. You act generously; I return my thanks to you all;-- and to you,
Demea, in particular.
DEM. I congratulate you.
ÆSCH. And I.
SYR. I believe you. I wish that this joy were made complete-- that I
could see my wife, Phrygia,[101] free as well.
DEM. Really, a most excellent woman.
SYR. And the first to suckle your grandchild, his son, today
(_pointing to ÆSCHINUS_).
DEM. Why really, in seriousness, if she was the first to do so, there
is no doubt she ought to be made free.
MIC. {What}, for doing that?
DEM. For doing that; in fine, receive the amount from me[102] at which
she is valued.
SYR. May all the Gods always grant you, Demea, all you desire.
MIC. Syrus, you have thrived pretty well to-day.
DEM. If, in addition, Micio, you will do your duty, and lend him a
little ready money in hand for present use, he will soon repay you.
MIC. Less than this (_snapping his fingers_).
ÆSCH. He is a deserving fellow.
SYR. Upon my word, I will repay it; only lend it me.
ÆSCH. Do, father.
MIC. I’ll consider of it afterward.
DEM. He’ll do it, {Syrus}.
SYR. O most worthy man!
ÆSCH. O most kind-hearted father!
MIC. How is this? What has so suddenly changed your disposition,
{Demea}? What caprice {is this}? What means this sudden
liberality?[103]
DEM. I will tell you:-- That I may convince you of this, Micio, that
the fact that they consider you an easy and kind-hearted man, does not
proceed from your real life, nor, indeed, from {a regard for} virtue
and justice; but from your humoring, indulging, and pampering them.
Now therefore, Æschinus, if my mode of life has been displeasing to
you, because I do not quite humor you in every thing, just {or}
unjust, I have done: squander, buy, do what you please. But if you
would rather have one to reprove and correct those faults, the results
of which, by reason of your youth, you can not see, which you pursue
too ardently, {and} are thoughtless upon, and in due season to direct
you; behold me ready to do it for you.
ÆSCH. Father, we leave it to you; you best know what ought to be done.
But what is to be done about my brother?
DEM. I consent. Let him have {his mistress}:[104] with her let him
make an end {of his follies}.
MIC. That’s right. (_To the AUDIENCE._) Grant us your applause.
FOOTNOTES
[Footnote 1: From δημὸς, “the people.”]
[Footnote 2: From Μικιὼν, a Greek proper name.]
[Footnote 3: From ἡγεῖσθαι, “to lead,” or “take charge of.”]
[Footnote 4: From αισχὸς, “disgrace.”]
[Footnote 5: From κτησὶς, “a patrimony,” and φῶς, “light.”]
[Footnote 6: From σαννὸς, “foolish.”]
[Footnote 7: One of the nation of the Getæ.]
[Footnote 8: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]
[Footnote 9: From Syria, his native country.]
[Footnote 10: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]
[Footnote 11: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]
[Footnote 12: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Heautontimorumenos.]
[Footnote 13: From κανθαρὸς [“a cup.”]
[Footnote 14: _Of Æmilius Paulus_)--This Play (from the Greek
Ἀδελφοὶ, “The Brothers”) was performed at the Funeral Games of
Lucius Æmilius Paulus, who was surnamed Macedonicus, from having
gained a victory over Perseus, King of Macedon. He was so poor at
the time of his decease, that they were obliged to sell his estate
in order to pay his widow her dower. The Q. Fabius Maximus and P.
Cornelius Africanus here mentioned were not, as some have thought,
the Curale Ædiles, but two sons of Æmilius Paulus, who had taken
the surnames of the families into which they had been adopted.]
[Footnote 15: _Sarranian flutes_)--The “Sarranian” or “Tyrian”
pipes, or flutes, are supposed to have been of a quick and
mirthful tone; Madame Dacier has consequently with much justice
suggested that the representation being on the occasion of a
funeral, the title has not come down to us in a complete form, and
that it was performed with the Lydian, or grave, solemn pipe,
alternately with the Tyrian. This opinion is also strengthened by
the fact that Donatus expressly says that it was performed to the
music of Lydian flutes.]
[Footnote 16: _Being Consuls_)--L. Anicius Gallus and M. Cornelius
Cethegus were Consuls in the year from the Building of the City
592, and B.C. 161.]
[Footnote 17: _Synapothnescontes_)--Ver. 6. Signifying “persons
dying together.” The “Commorientes” of Plautus is lost. It has
been doubted by some, despite these words of Terence, if Plautus
ever did write such a Play.]
[Footnote 18: _Of Diphilus_)--Ver. 6. Diphilus was a Greek Poet,
contemporary with Menander.]
[Footnote 19: _In war, in peace, in private business_)--Ver. 20.
According to Donatus, by the words “in bello,” Terence is supposed
to refer to his friend and patron Scipio; by “in otio,” to Furius
Publius; and in the words “in negotio” to Lælius, who was famed
for his wisdom.]
[Footnote 20: _The old men_)--Ver. 23. This is similar to the
words in the Prologue to the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 16: “But
expect nothing about the plot of this Play; the old men who will
come hither will disclose the matter to you.”]
[Footnote 21: _To fetch him_)--Ver. 24. “Advorsum ierant.” On the
duties of the “adversitores,” see the Notes to Bohn’s Translation
of Plautus.]
[Footnote 22: _Either have taken cold_)--Ver. 36. Westerhovius
observes that this passage seems to be taken from one in the Miles
Gloriosus of Plautus, l. 721, _et seq._: “Troth, if I had had
them, enough anxiety should I have had from my children; I should
have been everlastingly tormented in mind: but if perchance one
had had a fever, I think I should have died. Or if one in liquor
had tumbled any where from his horse, I should have been afraid
that he had broken his legs or neck on that occasion.” It may be
remarked that there is a great resemblance between the characters
of Micio here and Periplecomenus in the Miles Gloriosus.]
[Footnote 23: _To see you well_)--Ver. 81. Cooke remarks, that
though there are several fine passages in this speech, and good
observations on human life, yet it is too long a soliloquy.]
[Footnote 24: _I was looking for_)--Ver. 81. Donatus observes that
the Poet has in this place improved upon Menander, in representing
Demea as more ready to wrangle with his brother than to return his
compliments.]
[Footnote 25: _Such a son as Æschinus_)--Ver. 82. The passage
pretty clearly means by “ubi nobis Æschinus sit,” “when I’ve got
such a son as Æschinus.” Madame Dacier, however, would translate
it: “Ask me-- you, in whose house Æschinus is?” thus accusing him
of harboring Æschinus; a very forced construction, however.]
[Footnote 26: _Broken open a door_)--Ver. 88. The works of Ovid
and Plautus show that it was no uncommon thing for riotous young
men to break open doors; Ovid even suggests to the lover the
expediency of getting into the house through the windows.]
[Footnote 27: _Does he feast_)--Ver. 117. Colman has the following
observation here: “The mild character of Micio is contrasted by
Cicero to that of a furious, savage, severe father, as drawn by
the famous Comic Poet, Caecilius. Both writers are quoted in the
Oration for Caelias, in the composition of which it is plain that
the orator kept his eye pretty closely on our Poet. The passages
from Caecilius contain all that vehemence and severity, which, as
Horace tells us, was accounted the common character of the style
of that author.”]
[Footnote 28: _Smell of perfumes_)--Ver. 117. For an account of
the “unguenta,” or perfumes in use among the ancients, see the
Notes to Bohn’s translation of Plautus.]
[Footnote 29: _Will be shut out of doors_)--Ver. 119. No doubt by
his mistress when she has drained him of his money, and not by
Micio himself, as Colman says he was once led to imagine.]
[Footnote 30: _These things are_)--Ver. 141. Donatus observes
here, that Terence seems inclined to favor the part of mild
fathers. He represents Micio as appalled at his adopted son’s
irregularities, lest if he should appear wholly unmoved, he should
seem to be corrupting him, rather than to be treating him with
only a proper degree of indulgence.]
[Footnote 31: _Wished to take a wife_)--Ver. 151. Donatus remarks
here, that the art of Terence in preparing his incidents is
wonderful. He contrives that even ignorant persons shall open the
plot, as in the present instance, where we understand that
Aeschinus has mentioned to Micio his intention of taking a wife,
though he has not entered into particulars. This naturally leads
us to the ensuing parts of the Play, without forestalling any of
the circumstances.]
[Footnote 32: _I am a Procurer_)--Ver. 161. He says this aloud,
and with emphasis, relying upon the laws which were enacted at
Athens in favor of the “lenones,” whose occupation brought great
profits to the state, from their extensive trading in slaves. It
was forbidden to maltreat them, under pain of being disinherited.]
[Footnote 33: _I am a Procurer_)--Ver. 188. Westerhovius supposes
this part to be a translation from the works of Diphilus.]
[Footnote 34: _By action of freedom_)--Ver. 194. “Asserere
liberati causa,” was to assert the freedom of a person, with a
determination to maintain it at law. The “assertor” laid hands
upon the person, declaring that he or she was free; and till the
cause was tried, the person whose freedom was claimed, remained in
the hands of the “assertor.”]
[Footnote 35: _Till I return_)--Ver. 196. Colman has a curious
remark here: “I do not remember, in the whole circle of modern
comedy, a more natural picture of the elegant ease and
indifference of a fine gentleman, than that exhibited in this
Scene in the character of Æschinus.”]
[Footnote 36: _I have sold her_)--Ver. 204. He means, that if he
only names a price, Æschinus will suborn witnesses to say that he
has agreed to sell her, in which case Æschinus will carry her off
with impunity, and the laws will not allow him to recover her; as
it will then be an ordinary debt, and he will be put off with all
the common excuses used by debtors.]
[Footnote 37: _On more unequal terms_)--Ver. 212. “Certationem
comparatam.” This was a term taken from the combats of gladiators,
where it was usual to choose as combatants such as seemed most
nearly a match for each other.]
[Footnote 38: _If you had parted with ever so little_)--Ver. 217.
This passage is probably alluded to by Cicero, in his work, De
Officiis B. ii. c. 18: “For it is not only liberal sometimes to
give up a little of one’s rights, but it is also profitable.”]
[Footnote 39: _In the very joint_)--Ver. 229. “Ut in ipso articulo
oppressit.” Colman translates this, “Nick’d me to a hair.”]
[Footnote 40: _To take to Cyprus_)--Ver. 230. He alludes to a
famous slave-market held in the Isle of Cyprus, whither merchants
carried slaves for sale, after buying them up in all parts of
Greece.]
[Footnote 41: _Have you by this reckoned_)--Ver. 236. “Jamne
enumerasti id quod ad te rediturum putes?” Colman renders this,
“Well, have you calculated what’s your due?” referring to the
value of the Music-girl that has been taken away from him; and
thinks that the following conversation between Sannio and Syrus
supports that construction. Madame Dacier puts another sense on
the words, and understands them as alluding to Sannio’s
calculation of his expected profits at Cyprus.]
[Footnote 42: _Scrape together ten minæ_)--Ver. 242. Donatus
remarks, that Syrus knows very well that Æschinus is ready to pay
the whole, but offers Sannio half, that he may be glad to take the
bare principal, and think himself well off into the bargain.]
[Footnote 43: _He’s looking for me_)--Ver. 265. Donatus remarks
upon the readiness with which Sannio takes the appellation of
“sacrilegus,” as adapted to no other person than himself.]
[Footnote 44: _Flying the country_)--Ver. 275. Donatus tells us,
that in Menander the young man was on the point of killing
himself. Terence has here softened it into leaving the country.
Colman remarks: “We know that the circumstance of carrying off the
Music-girl was borrowed from Diphilus; yet it is plain from
Donatus that there was also an intrigue by Ctesipho in the Play of
Menander; which gives another proof of the manner in which Terence
used the Greek Comedies.”]
[Footnote 45: _He is in haste for Cyprus_)--Ver. 278. Donatus
remarks that this is a piece of malice on the part of Syrus, for
the purpose of teasing Sannio.]
[Footnote 46: _Order the couches_)--Ver. 285. Those used for the
purpose of reclining on at the entertainment.]
[Footnote 47: _Leave me alone_)--Ver. 321. Quoting from Madame
Dacier, Colman has this remark here: “Geta’s reply is founded on a
frolicsome but ill-natured custom which prevailed in Greece-- to
stop the slaves in the streets, and designedly keep them in chat,
so that they might be lashed when they came home for staying out
so long.”]
[Footnote 48: _On his father’s knees_)--Ver. 333. It was a
prevalent custom with the Greeks to place the newly-born child
upon the knee of its grandfather.]
[Footnote 49: _It shall be boned_)--Ver. 378. The operation of
boning conger-eels is often mentioned in Plautus, from whom we
learn that they were best when eaten in that state, and cold.]
[Footnote 50: _Serve somewhere or other as a soldier_)--Ver. 385.
See a similar passage in the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 722, whence
it appears that it was the practice for young men of ruined
fortunes to go and offer their services as mercenaries to some of
the neighboring potentates. Many of the ten thousand who fought
for the younger Cyrus at the battle of Cunaxa, and were led back
under the command of Xenophon, were, doubtless, of this class.]
[Footnote 51: _As though into a mirror_)--Ver. 428. He parodies
the words of Demea in l. 415, where he speaks of looking into the
lives of men as into a mirror.]
[Footnote 52: _Of our tribe_)--Ver. 439. Solon divided the
Athenians into ten tribes, which he named after ten of the ancient
heroes: Erectheis, Ægeis, Pandionis, Leontis, Acamantis, Œneis,
Cecrops, Hippothoontis, Æantis, and Antiochis. These tribes were
each divided into ten Demi.]
[Footnote 53: _Would take her home_)--Ver. 473. As his wife.]
[Footnote 54: _Is among us_)--Ver. 479. “In medio,” “is alive,” or
“in the midst of us.”]
[Footnote 55: _Take him, bind him_)--Ver. 482. In allusion to the
method of examining slaves, by binding and torturing them.]
[Footnote 56: _Juno Lucina_)--Ver. 487. So in the Andria, l. 473,
where Glycerium is overtaken with the pains of labor, she calls
upon Juno Lucina.]
[Footnote 57: _He was my kinsman_)--Ver. 494. In the Play of
Menander, Hegio was the brother of Sostrata.]
[Footnote 58: _Upon this matter I’ll follow_)--Ver. 500. “Is, quod
mihi de hae re dederat consilium, id sequar.” Coleman has the
following Note on this passage: “Madame Dacier rejects this line,
because it is also to be found in the Phormio. But it is no
uncommon thing with our author to use the same expression or verse
for different places, especially on familiar occasions. There is
no impropriety in it here, and the foregoing hemistich is rather
lame without it. The propriety of consulting Micio, or Demea’s
present ill-humor with him, are of no consequence. The old man is
surprised at Hegio’s story, does not know what to do or say, and
means to evade giving a positive answer, by saying that he would
consult his brother.”]
[Footnote 59: _Go back now_)--Ver. 506. “Redite.” Demea most
probably uses this word, because Hegio has come back to him to
repeat the last words for the sake of greater emphasis.]
[Footnote 60: _Be of good heart_)--Ver. 512. Colman has the
following Note here: “Donatus tells us, that in some old copies
this whole Scene was wanting. Guyetus therefore entirely rejects
it. I have not ventured to take that liberty; but must confess
that it appears to me, if not supposititious, at least cold and
superfluous, and the substance of it had better been supposed to
have passed between Hegio and Sostrata within.”]
[Footnote 61: _At this very moment_)--Ver. 519. It is very
doubtful whether the words “cum maxime” mean to signify exactly
“at this moment,” or are intended to signify the intensity with
which Demea is laboring.]
[Footnote 62: _Any thing still better than that_)--Ver. 522.
Lemaire suggests that by these words Syrus intends to imply that
he should not care if Demea were never to arise from his bed, but
were to die there. Ctesipho, only taking him heartily to second
his own wishes for the old man’s absence, answers affirmatively
“ita,” “by all means,” “exactly so.”]
[Footnote 63: _So much the worse_)--Ver. 529. Schmieder observes
that “tanto nequior” might have two meanings,-- “so much the worse
{for us},” or, as the spectators might understand it, “so much the
more worthless you.”]
[Footnote 64: _The wolf in the fable_)--Ver. 538. This was a
proverbial expression, tantamount to our saying, “Talk of the
devil, he’s sure to appear.” Servius, in his Commentary on the
Ninth Eclogue of Virgil, says that the saying arose from the
common belief that the person whom a wolf sets his eyes upon is
deprived of his voice, and thence came to be applied to a person
who, coming upon others in the act of talking about him,
necessarily put a stop to their conversation. Cooke says, in
reference to this passage, “This certainly alludes to a Fable of
Æsop’s, of the Wolf, the Fox, and the Ape: which is translated by
Phædrus, and is the tenth of his First Book.” It is much more
certain that Cooke is mistaken here, and that the fable of the
arbitration of the Ape between the Wolf and the Fox has nothing to
do with this passage. If it alludes to any fable (which from the
expression itself is not at all unlikely), it is more likely to be
that where the Nurse threatens that the wolf shall take the
naughty Child, on which he makes his appearance, but is
disappointed in his expectations, or else that of the Shepherd-boy
and the Wolf. See the Stichus of Plautus, l. 57, where the same
expression occurs.]
[Footnote 65: _Met a day-laborer_)--Ver. 542. Donatus remarks that
the Poet artfully contrives to detain Demea in town, his presence
being necessary in the latter part of the Play.]
[Footnote 66: _With her in some cupboard_)--Ver. 553. Donatus
observes that the young man was silly in this, for if discovered
to be there he would be sure to be caught. His object, however,
for going there would be that he might not be discovered.]
[Footnote 67: _Take me to be in my senses_)--Ver. 580. “Censen
hominem me esse?” literally, “Do you take me to be a human being?”
meaning, “Do you take me to be a person in my common senses?”]
[Footnote 68: _Street on the left hand_)--Ver. 583. Theobald, in
his edition of Shakspeare, observes that the direction given by
Lancelot in the Merchant of Venice seems to be copied from that
given here by Syrus: “Turn up on your right hand at the next
turning, but at the next turning of all on your left; marry, at
the very next turning of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the
Jew’s house.”]
[Footnote 69: _Come to the city gate_)--Ver. 584. From this we
discover that Demea is being sent to the very extremity of the
town, as Donatus informs us that ponds of water were always close
to the gates of towns, for the purpose of watering the beasts of
burden, and of having a supply at hand in case the enemy should
set fire to the city gates.]
[Footnote 70: _The open air_)--Ver. 586. Donatus remarks that it
was usual for the Greeks to sit and drink in the sun; and that
Syrus being suddenly asked this question shows his presence of
mind by giving this circumstantial answer, that he may the better
impose upon Demea. The couches used on such occasions may be
presumed to have required stout legs, and to be made of hard wood,
such as oak, to prevent them from splitting. Two instances of
couches being used for carousing in the open air will be found in
the last Scenes of the Asinaria and Stichus of Plautus.]
[Footnote 71: _You skeleton_)--Ver. 588. “Silicernium.” This was
said to be the name of a funeral entertainment or dish of meats
offered up to the “umbræ” or “manes,” in silence. The word is also
said to have been applied to an old man from his stooping
postures, “silices cernit,” “he looks at the stones.”]
[Footnote 72: _Head and ears in love_)--Ver. 590. “Totus,”
literally, “quite” or “altogether.”]
[Footnote 73: _Sipping my cups_)--Ver. 592. As to the “cyathi” and
cups of the ancients, see the last Scene of the Stichus of
Plautus, which is a perfect specimen of a carousal among the lower
classes in ancient times. See also the last Scene of the Asinaria.
The slaves generally appear to have taken part in the
entertainments with their young masters.]
[Footnote 74: _Are suspicious_)--Ver. 606. These lines are
supposed to be founded on some verses of Menander which are still
extant.]
[Footnote 75: _Obliges him to marry her_)--Ver. 655. It appears to
have been a law given by Solon to the Athenians that the next male
relative of suitable age should marry a female orphan himself, or
find her a suitable portion. Madame Dacier suggests that the
custom was derived from the Phœnicians, who had received it from
the Jews, and quotes the Book of Numbers, xxxvi. 8. This law forms
the basis of the plot of the Phormio.]
[Footnote 76: _To Miletus, pray?_)--Ver. 658. A colony of Athens,
on the coast of Asia Minor.]
[Footnote 77: _Who betrothed her?_)--Ver. 673. Donatus observes
that these questions, which enumerate all the proofs requisite for
a marriage, are an indirect and very delicate reproof of Æschinus
for the irregular and clandestine nature of his proceedings.]
[Footnote 78: _Propitious to you_)--Ver. 707. Donatus remarks that
there is great delicacy in this compliment of Æschinus to Micio,
which, though made in his presence, does not bear the semblance of
flattery. Madame Dacier thinks that Terence here alludes to a line
of Hesiod, which says that it is the duty of the aged to pray.
Colman suggests that the passage is borrowed from some lines of
Menander still in existence.]
[Footnote 79: _Certainly I had rather_)--Ver. 730. He pauses after
“quidem,” but he means to say that if he had his choice, he would
rather it had not been so.]
[Footnote 80: _Playing with dice_)--Ver. 742. The “tesseræ” of the
ancients were cubes, or what we call “dice;” while the “tali” were
in imitation of the knuckle-bones of animals, and were marked on
four sides only. For some account of the mode of playing with the
“tali,” see the last Scene of the Asinaria, and the Curculio of
Plautus, l. 257-9. Madame Dacier suggests that Menander may
possibly have borrowed this passage from the Republic of Plato,
B. X., where he says, “We should take counsel from accidents, and,
as in a game at dice, act according to what has fallen, in the
manner which reason tells us to be the best.”]
[Footnote 81: _Hold of the rope_)--Ver. 755. “Restim ductans
saltabis.” Donatus and Madame Dacier think that this is only a
figurative expression for a dance in which all joined hands;
according to some, however, a dance is alluded to where the person
who led off drew a rope or cord after him, which the rest of the
company took hold of as they danced; which was invented in
resemblance of the manner in which the wooden horse was dragged by
ropes into the city of Troy.]
[Footnote 82: _Salvation herself_)--Ver. 764. See an observation
relative to the translation of the word “Salus,” in the Notes to
Plautus, vol. i. pages 193, 450.]
[Footnote 83: _Have done your duty_)--Ver. 767. His duty of
providing the viands and drink for the entertainment. So Ergasilus
says in the Captivi of Plautus, l. 912, “Now I will go off to my
government (præfecturam), to give laws to the bacon.”]
[Footnote 84: _I must assist him_)--Ver. 795. Colman remarks on
this passage: “The character of Micio appears extremely amiable
through the first four Acts of this Comedy, and his behavior is in
many respects worthy of imitation; but his conduct in conniving at
the irregularities of Ctesipho, and even assisting him to support
them, is certainly reprehensible. Perhaps the Poet threw this
shade over his virtues on purpose to show that mildness and
good-humor might be carried to excess.”]
[Footnote 85: _That point I was coming to_)--Ver. 824. Colman
observes here: “Madame Dacier makes an observation on this speech,
something like that of Donatus on one of Micio’s above; and says
that Micio, being hard put to it by the real circumstances of the
case, thinks to confound Demea by a nonsensical gallimatia. I can
not be of the ingenious lady’s opinion on this matter, for I think
a more sensible speech could not be made, nor a better plea
offered in favor of the young men, than that of Micio in the
present instance.”]
[Footnote 86: _At the very mid-day_)--Ver. 851. Exposed to the
heat of a mid-day sun.]
[Footnote 87: _To the object_)--Ver. 857. The marriage and its
festivities.]
[Footnote 88: _Am the eldest_)--Ver. 884. And therefore likely to
be the first to die, and to avoid seeing such a time come.]
[Footnote 89: _O Syrus, my friend_)--Ver. 886. The emptiness of
his poor attempts to be familiar are very evident in this line.]
[Footnote 90: _The music-girl_)--Ver. 908. “Tibicinæ,” or
music-girls, attended at marriage ceremonials. See the Aulularia
of Plautus, where Megadorus hires the music-girls on his intended
marriage with the daughter of Euclio.]
[Footnote 91: _The crowds, the torches_)--Ver. 910. See the Casina
of Plautus, Act IV., Scenes 3 and 4, for some account of the
marriage ceremonial. The torches, music-girls, processions, and
hymeneal song, generally accompanied a wedding, but from the
present passage we may conclude that they were not considered
absolutely necessary.]
[Footnote 92: _Stone wall in the garden_)--Ver. 911. The
“maceria,” or garden-wall of loose stones, is also mentioned in
the Truculentus of Plautus, l. 301.]
[Footnote 93: _Bid that Babylonian_)--Ver. 918. This passage has
much puzzled the Commentators; but it seems most probable that it
is said aside, and that in consequence of his profuseness he calls
his brother a Babylonian, (just as we call a wealthy man a nabob,)
and says, “Well, let him, with all my heart, be paying twenty minæ
(between £70 and £80) for music-girl.”]
[Footnote 94: _Take yourself off_)--Ver. 940. Æschinus, probably,
in his earnestness, has seized hold of him with his hand, which
Micio now pushes away.]
[Footnote 95: _I have promised it_)--Ver. 943. This is not the
truth; the notion has only been started since he last saw them.]
[Footnote 96: _Really, this is downright force_)--Ver. 946. “Vis
est hæc quidem.” The same expression occurs in the Captivi of
Plautus, l. 755. The expression seemed to be a common one with the
Romans. According to Suetonius, Julius Cæsar used it when attacked
by his murderers in the senate-house. On Tullius Cimber seizing
hold of his garments, he exclaimed, “Ita quidem vis est!”-- “Why,
really, this is violence!”]
[Footnote 97: _This seems to me_)--Ver. 947. Donatus informs us
that in Menander’s Play, the old man did not make any resistance
whatever to the match thus patched up for him. Colman has the
following observation on this fact: “It is surprising that none of
the critics on this passage have taken notice of this observation
of Donatus, especially as our loss of Menander makes it rather
curious. It is plain that Terence in the plan of his last Act
followed Menander; but though he has adopted the absurdity of
marrying Micio to the old lady, yet we learn from Donatus that his
judgment rather revolted at this circumstance, and he improved on
his original by making Micio express a repugnance to such a match,
which it seems he did not in the Play of Menander.”]
[Footnote 98: _At his own weapon_)--Ver. 961. He probably means,
by aping the kind feeling which is a part of Micio’s character.]
[Footnote 99: _A morning entertainment_)--Ver. 969. A banquet in
the early part or middle of the day was considered by the Greeks a
debauch.]
[Footnote 100: _Be a free man_)--Ver. 974. He touches Syrus on the
ear, and makes him free. The same occurs in the Epidicus of
Plautus, Act V., Sc. 2, l. 65.]
[Footnote 101: _My wife, Phrygia_)--Ver. 977. The so-called
marriage, or rather cohabitation, of the Roman slaves will be
found treated upon in the Notes to Plautus. Syrus calls Phrygia
his wife on anticipation that she will become a free woman.]
[Footnote 102: _Receive the amount from me_)--Ver. 981. The only
sign of generosity he has yet shown.]
[Footnote 103: _This sudden liberality_)--Ver. 989. “Quid
prolubium? Quae istæc subita est largitas?” Madame Dacier tells us
that this passage was borrowed from Coecilius, the Comic Poet.]
[Footnote 104: _Let him have his mistress_)--Ver. 1001. It must be
remembered that he has the notions of a Greek parent, and sees no
such criminality in this sanction as a parent would be sensible of
at the present day.]
* * * * *
* * * *
HECYRA; THE MOTHER-IN-LAW
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
LACHES,[1] an aged Athenian, father of Pamphilus.
PHIDIPPUS,[2] an aged Athenian, father of Philumena.
PAMPHILUS,[3] son of Laches.
SOSIA,[4] servant of Pamphilus.
PARMENO,[5] servant of Sostrata.
SOSTRATA,[6] wife of Laches.
MYRRHINA,[7] wife of Phidippus.
BACCRIS,[8] a Courtesan.
PHILOTIS,[9] a Courtesan.
SYRA,[10] a Procuress.
_Scene._--Athens; before the houses of LACHES, PHIDIPPUS, and BACCHIS.
THE SUBJECT.
Pamphilus, the son of Laches by his wife Sostrata, being at the time
enamored of Bacchis, a Courtesan, chances, one night, in a drunken
fit, to debauch Philumena, the daughter of Phidippus and Myrrhina. In
the struggle he takes a ring from her, which he gives to Bacchis. Some
time afterward, at his father’s express desire, he consents to marry.
By chance the young woman whom he has ravished is given to him as a
wife, to the great joy of her mother, who alone is aware of her
misfortune, and hopes that her disgrace may be thereby concealed. It,
however, happens otherwise; for Pamphilus, still retaining his passion
for Bacchis, refuses for some time to cohabit with her. Bacchis,
however, now rejects the advances of Pamphilus, who by degrees becomes
weaned from his affection for her, and grows attached to his wife,
whom he has hitherto disliked. Meantime, however, he is suddenly
called away from home. During his absence, Philumena, finding herself
pregnant in consequence of her misfortune before her marriage, fearing
detection, especially avoids the company of her mother-in-law. At
length she makes an excuse for returning to the home of her own
parents, where she remains. Sostrata thereupon sends for her, but is
answered that she is ill, on which she goes to see her, but is refused
admittance to the house. On hearing of this, Laches blames his wife as
being the cause of this estrangement. Pamphilus now returns, and it so
happens that, on the day of his arrival, Philumena is brought to bed
of a child. Impatient to see her, Pamphilus rushes into her room, and
to his great distress finds that this is the case. Myrrhina thereupon
entreats him to keep the matter secret, and begs him, if he refuses to
receive her daughter back again, at least not to ruin her reputation
by divulging it. As he now declines either to take back his wife or
give his reason for so doing, Laches suspects that he is still
enamored of Bacchis, and accordingly sends for her, and expostulates
with her. She, however, exonerates herself; on which the old man,
supposing that Philumena and her mother are equally ignorant with
himself as to his son’s motives, begs her to call on them and remove
their suspicions. While she is conversing with them, they recognize
the ring upon her finger which Pamphilus had formerly taken from
Philumena. By means of this it is discovered that Pamphilus himself is
the person who has ravished Philumena; on which, overjoyed, he
immediately takes home his wife and son.
THE TITLE OF THE PLAY.
Performed at the Megalensian Games; Sextus Julius Csesar and Cneius
Cornelius Dolabella being Curule Ædiles. The whole was not then acted.
Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius, composed the music to a pair of
flutes. It was composed wholly from the Greek of Menander.[11] It was
performed the first time without a Prologue. Represented a second
time; Cneius Octavius and T. Manlius being Consuls.[12] It was then
brought out in honor of L. Æmilius Paulus, at his Funeral Games, and
was not approved of. It was repeated a third time; Q. Fulvius and L.
Marcius being Curule Ædiles. L. Ambivius Turpio performed it. It was
then approved of.[13]
HECYRA; THE MOTHER-IN-LAW.
THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.
Pamphilus has married Philumena, to whom, when a virgin, he formerly,
not knowing who she was, offered violence; and whose ring which he
took off by force, he gave to his mistress, Bacchis, a Courtesan.
Afterward he sets out for Imbros, not having touched his bride. Having
become pregnant, her mother brings her over to her own house, as
though sick, that her mother-in-law may not know it. Pamphilus
returns; detects her being delivered; conceals it; but determines not
to take back his wife. His father imputes {this} to his passion for
Bacchis. While Bacchis is exculpating herself, Myrrhina, the mother of
the injured girl, by chance recognizes the ring. Pamphilus takes back
his wife, together with his son.
THE FIRST PROLOGUE.
Hecyra[14] is the name of this Play; when it was represented for the
first time, an unusual disaster and calamity[15] interrupted it, so
that it could not be witnessed {throughout} or estimated; so much had
the populace, carried away with admiration, devoted their attention to
some rope-dancing. It is now offered as though entirely a new Play;
and he who wrote it did not wish to bring it forward {then} a second
time, on purpose that he might be able again to sell it.[16] Other
{Plays} of his[17] you have seen represented; I beg you now to give
your attention to this.
THE SECOND PROLOGUE.[18]
I come to you as an envoy from the Poet, in the character of
prologue-speaker; allow me to be a successful pleader, that in my old
age I may enjoy the same privilege that I enjoyed when a, younger man,
when I caused new Plays, that had been {once} rejected, to come into
favor; so that his writings might not die with the Poet. Among them,
as to those of Cæcilius,[19] which I first studied when new; in some
of which I was rejected; in some I kept my ground with difficulty. As
I knew that the fortune of the stage was varying, where the hopes were
uncertain, I submitted to certain toil. Those I zealously attempted to
perform, that from the same {writer} I might learn new ones, {and} not
discourage him from his pursuits. I caused them to be represented.
When seen, they pleased. Thus did I restore the Poet to his place, who
was now almost weaned, through the malevolence of his adversaries,
from his pursuits and labors, and from the dramatic art. But if I had
at that period slighted the writer, and had wished to use my endeavors
in discouraging him, so that he might live a life of idleness rather
than of study, I might have easily discouraged him from writing
others. Now, for my sake, hear with unbiased minds what it is I ask.
I again bring before you the Hecyra, which I have never been allowed
to act {before you} in silence; such misfortunes have so overwhelmed
it. These misfortunes your intelligence will allay, if it is a
seconder of our exertions. The first time, when I began to act this
{Play}, the vauntings of boxers,[20] the expectation of a
rope-dancer,[21] added to which, the throng of followers, the noise,
the clamor of the women, caused me to retire from your presence before
the time. In this new Play, I attempted to follow the old custom {of
mine},[22] of making a fresh trial; I brought it on again. In the
first Act I pleased; when in the mean time a rumor spread that
gladiators were about to be exhibited; the populace flock together,
make a tumult, clamor aloud, {and} fight for their places:[23]
meantime, I was unable to maintain my place. Now there is no
confusion: there is attention and silence-- an opportunity of acting
{my Play} has been granted me; to yourselves is given the power of
gracing the scenic festival.[24] Do not permit, through your agency,
the dramatic art to sink into the hands of a few; let your authority
prove a seconder and assistant to my own. If I have never covetously
set a price upon my skill, and have come to this conclusion, that it
is the greatest gain in the highest possible degree to contribute to
your entertainment; allow me to obtain this of you, that him who has
intrusted his labors to my protection, and himself to your
integrity,-- that him, I {say}, the malicious may not maliciously
deride, beset {by them} on every side. For my sake, admit of this
plea, and attend in silence, that he may be encouraged to write other
{Plays}, and that it may be for my advantage to study new ones
hereafter, purchased at my own expense.[25]
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.
_Enter PHILOTIS[26] and SYRA._
PHIL. I’faith, Syra, you can find but very few lovers who prove
constant to their mistresses. For instance, how often did this
Pamphilus swear to Bacchis-- how solemnly, so that any one might have
readily believed him-- that he never would take home a wife so long as
she lived. Well now, he is married.
SYR. Therefore, for that very reason, I earnestly both advise and
entreat you to take pity upon no one, but plunder, fleece, {and} rend
every man you lay hold of.
PHIL. What! Hold no one exempt?
SYR. No one; for not a single one of them, rest assured, comes to you
without making up his mind, by means of his flatteries, to gratify his
passion with you at the least possible expense. Will you not, pray,
plot against them in return?
PHIL. And yet, upon my faith, it is unfair to be the same to all.
SYR. What! unfair to take revenge on your enemies? or, for them to be
caught in the very way they try to catch you? Alas! wretched me! why
do not your age and beauty belong to me, or else these sentiments {of
mine} to you?
SCENE II.
_Enter PARMENO from the house of LACHES._
PAR. (_at the door, speaking to SCIRTUS within._) If the old man
should be asking for me, do you say that I have just gone to the
harbor to inquire about the arrival of Pamphilus. Do you hear what I
say, Scirtus? If he asks for me, then you are to say {so}; if he does
not, {why}, say nothing at all; so that at another time I may be able
to employ that excuse as a new one. (_Comes forward, and looking
around._)--But is it my dear Philotis that I see? How has she come
{here}? (_Accosting her._) Philotis heartily good-morrow.
PHIL. O, good-morrow, Parmeno.
SYR. By my troth, good-morrow, Parmeno.
PAR. I’faith, Syra, the same to you. Philotis, tell me, where have you
been enjoying yourself so long?
PHIL. For my part, indeed, I have been far from enjoying myself, in
leaving this place for Corinth with a most brutal captain; for two
whole years, there, had I to put up with him to my sorrow.
PAR. I’troth, I fancy that regret for Athens full oft possessed you,
and that you thought but poorly of your foresight.
PHIL. It can not be expressed how impatient I was to return hither,
get rid of the captain, and see yourselves here, that after our old
fashion I might at my ease enjoy the merry-makings among you; for
there it was not allowed {me} to speak, except at {the moment}
prescribed, {and} on such subjects as he chose.
PAR. (_sarcastically._) I don’t think it was gallant in the captain to
place a restraint on your tongue.
PHIL. But what is this piece of business that Bacchis has just now
been telling me in-doors here? (_pointing to her house._) {A thing} I
never supposed would come to pass, that he, in her lifetime, could
possibly prevail upon his feelings to take a wife.
PAR. To take, indeed!
PHIL. Why, look you, has he not taken one?
PAR. He has; but I doubt whether this match will be lasting.
PHIL. May the Gods and Goddesses grant it so, if it is for the
advantage of Bacchis. But why am I to believe it is so? Tell me,
Parmeno.
PAR. There is no need for its being spread abroad; ask me no more
about it.
PHIL. For fear, I suppose, it may be made public. So may the Gods
prosper me, I do not ask you in order that I may spread it abroad, but
that, in silence, I may rejoice within myself.
PAR. You’ll never speak me so fairly, that I shall trust my back to
your discretion.
PHIL. Oh, don’t {say so}, Parmeno;[27] as though you were not much
more impatient to tell me this, than I to learn what I’m inquiring
about.
PAR. (_to himself._) She tells the truth there; and that is my
greatest failing. (_To PHILOTIS._) If you give me your word that
you’ll keep it a secret, I’ll tell you.
PHIL. You are {now} returning to your {natural} disposition. I give
you my word; say on.
PAR. Listen.
PHIL. I’m all attention.
PAR. Pamphilus was in the height of his passion for Bacchis here, when
his father began to importune him to take a wife, and to urge those
points which are usual with all fathers, that he {himself} was {now}
in years, and that he was his only son, that he wished for a support
for his declining years. He refused at first. But on his father
pressing more urgently, he caused him to become wavering in his mind,
whether to yield rather to duty or to love. By hammering on and
teazing him, at last the old man gained his point; and betrothed him
to the daughter of our next-door neighbor here (_pointing to the house
of PHIDIPPUS_). This did not seem so very disagreeable to Pamphilus,
until on the very point of marriage, when he saw that all was ready,
and that no respite was granted, but marry he must; then, at last, he
took it so much to heart, that I do believe if Bacchis had been
present, {even} she would have pitied him. Whenever opportunity was
afforded for us being alone, so that he could converse with me, {he
used to say}: “Parmeno, I am ruined! What have I done! Into what
misery have I plunged myself! Parmeno, I shall never be able to endure
this. To my misery, I am undone!”
PHIL. (_vehemently exclaiming._) May the Gods and Goddesses confound
you, Laches, for vexing him so!
PAR. To cut the matter short, he took home his wife. On the first
night, he did not touch the girl; the night that followed that, not a
bit the more.
PHIL. What is it you tell me? A young man go to bed with a virgin,
intoxicated to boot, {and} able to restrain himself from touching her!
You do not say what’s likely; nor do I believe it to be the truth.
PAR. I suppose it does seem so to you, for no one comes to you unless
he is eager for you; {but} he had married her against his will.
PHIL. After this, what followed?
PAR. In a very few days after, Pamphilus took me aside, away from the
house, and told me how that the young woman was still untouched by
him; and {how} that before he had taken her home as his wife, he had
hoped to be able to endure this marriage: “But, Parmeno, as I can not
resolve to live with her any longer, it is neither honorable in me,
nor of advantage to the young woman herself, for her to be turned to
ridicule, but rather I ought to return her to her relations just as I
received her.”
PHIL. You tell me of a conscientious and virtuous disposition in
Pamphilus.
PAR. “For me to declare this, I consider to be inconvenient to me, but
for her to be sent back to her father without mentioning any blame,
would be insolent; but I am in hopes that she, when she is sensible
that she can not live with me, will go at last {of her own accord}.”
PHIL. What {did he do} in the mean while? Used he to visit Bacchis?
PAR. Every day. But as {usually} is the case, after she saw that he
belonged to another, she immediately became more ill-natured and more
peevish.
PHIL. I’faith, that’s not to be wondered at.
PAR. And this circumstance in especial contributed to estrange him
from her; after he had fairly examined himself, and her, and the one
that was at home, he formed a judgment, by comparison, upon the
principles of them both. She, just as might be expected from a person
of respectable and free birth, chaste {and} virtuous, patient under
the slights and all the insults of her husband, and concealing his
affronts. Upon this, his mind, partly overcome by compassion for his
wife, partly constrained by the insolence of the other, was gradually
estranged from Bacchis, and transferred its affections to the other,
after having found a congenial disposition. In the mean time, there
dies at Imbros[28] an old man, a relative of theirs. His property
there devolved on them by law. Thither his father drove the love-sick
Pamphilus, much against his will. He left his wife here with his
mother, for the old man has retired into the country; he seldom comes
into the city.
PHIL. What is there yet in this marriage to prevent its being lasting?
PAR. You shall hear just now. At first, for several days, there really
was a good understanding between them. In the mean time, however, in a
strange way, she began to take a dislike to Sostrata; nor yet was
there ever any quarrel or words between them.
PHIL. What then?
PAR. If at any time she came to converse with her, she would instantly
withdraw from her presence,[29] and refuse to see her; in fine, when
she could no longer endure her, she pretended that she was sent for by
her mother to assist at a sacrifice. When she had been there a few
days, {Sostrata} ordered her to be fetched. She made some, I know not
what, excuse. Again she gave similar orders; no one sent back {any
excuse}. After she had sent for her repeatedly, they pretended that
the damsel was sick. My {mistress} immediately went to see her; no one
admitted her. On the old man coming to know of this, he yesterday came
up from the country on purpose, {and} waited immediately upon the
father of Philumena. What passed between them, I do not know as yet;
but really I do feel some anxiety in what way this is to end. You
{now} have the whole matter; {and} I shall proceed whither I was on my
way.
PHIL. And I too, for I made an appointment with a certain stranger[30]
to meet him.
PAR. May the Gods prosper what you undertake!
PHIL. Farewell!
PAR. And a kind farewell to you, my dear Philotis. (_Exeunt
severally._
ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE I.[31]
_Enter LACHES and SOSTRATA, from the house of the former._
LACH. O faith of Gods and men! what a race is this! what a conspiracy
this! that all women should desire and reject every individual thing
alike! And not a single one can you find to swerve in any respect from
the disposition of the rest. For instance, quite as though with one
accord, do all mothers-in-law hate their daughters-in-law. Just in the
same way is it their system to oppose their husbands; their obstinacy
{here} is the same. In the very same school they all seem to me to
have been trained up to perverseness. Of that school, if there is any
mistress, I am very sure that she (_pointing at SOSTRATA_) it is.
SOS. Wretched me! when now I don’t so much as know why I am accused!
LACH. Eh! you don’t know?
SOS. So may the Gods kindly prosper me, Laches, and so may it be
allowed us to pass our lives together in unity!
LACH. (_aside._) May the Gods avert {such} a misfortune!