accused by you undeservedly.
LACH. You, undeservedly? Can any thing possibly be said that you
deserve in return for this conduct of yours? You, who are disgracing
both me and yourself and the family, {and} are laying up sorrow for
your son. Then besides, you are making our connections become, from
friends, enemies to us, who have thought him deserving for them to
intrust their children[32] to him. You alone have put yourself
forward, by your folly, to be causing this disturbance.
SOS. What, I?
LACH. You, woman, I say, who take me to be a stone, not a man. Do you
think because it’s my habit to be so much in the country, that I don’t
know in what way each person is passing his life here? I know much
better what is going on here than there, where I am daily; for this
reason, because, just as you act at home, I am spoken of abroad. Some
time since, indeed, I heard that Philumena had taken a dislike to you;
nor did I the least wonder at it; indeed, if she hadn’t done so, it
would have been more surprising. But I did not suppose that she would
have gone so far as to hate even the whole of the family; if I had
known {that}, she should have remained here in preference, {and} you
should have gone away. But consider how undeservedly these vexations
arise on your account, Sostrata; I went to live in the country, in
compliance with your request, and to look after my affairs, in order
that my circumstances might be able to support your lavishness and
comforts, not sparing my own exertions, beyond what’s reasonable and
my time of life allows. That you should take no care, in return for
all this, that there should be nothing to vex me!
SOS. Upon my word, through no means or fault of mine has this taken
place.
LACH. Nay, {through you} in especial; you were the only person here;
on you alone, Sostrata, falls all the blame. You ought to have taken
care of matters here, as I had released you from other anxieties. Is
it not a disgrace for an old woman to pick a quarrel with a girl? You
will say it was her fault.
SOS. Indeed I do not say so, my {dear} Laches.
LACH. I am glad of that, so may the Gods prosper me, for my son’s
sake. I am quite sure {of this}, that no fault of yours can possibly
put you in a worse light.
SOS. How do you know, my husband, whether she may not have pretended
to dislike me, on purpose that she might be more with her mother?
LACH. What say you {to this}? Is it not proof sufficient, when
yesterday no one was willing to admit you into the house, when you
went to see her?
SOS. Why, they told me that she was very ill just then; for that
reason I was not admitted to her.
LACH. I fancy that your humors are more her malady than any thing
else; and with good reason in fact, for there is not one of you but
wants her son to take a wife; and the match which has taken your fancy
must be the one; when, at your solicitation, they have married,
{then}, at your solicitation, they are to put them away again.
SCENE II.
_Enter PHIDIPPUS from his house._
PHID. (_speaking to PHILUMENA within._) Although I am aware,
Philumena, that I have the right to compel you to do what I order,
still, being swayed by the feelings of a father, I will prevail {upon
myself} to yield to you, and not oppose your inclination.
LACH. And look, most opportunely I see Phidippus; I’ll presently know
from him how it is. (_Accosting him._) Phidippus, although I am aware
that I am particularly indulgent to all my family, still it is not to
that degree to let my good nature corrupt their minds. And if you
would do the same, it would be more for your own interest and ours. At
present I see that you are under the control of those {women}.
PHID. Just look at that, now!
LACH. I waited on you yesterday about your daughter; you sent me away
just as wise as I came. It does not become you, if you wish this
alliance to continue, to conceal your resentment. If there is any
fault on our side, disclose it; either by clearing ourselves, or
excusing it, we shall remedy these matters for you, yourself the
judge. But if this is the cause of detaining her at your house,
because she is ill, {then} I think that you do me an injustice,
Phidippus, if you are afraid lest she should {not} be attended with
sufficient care at my house. But, so may the Gods prosper me, I do not
yield in this to you, although you are her father, that you can wish
her well more than {I do}, and that on my son’s account, who I know
values her not less than his own self. Nor, in fact, is it unknown to
you, how much, {as} I believe, it will vex him, if he comes to
know[33] of this; for this reason, I wish to have her home before he
returns.
PHID. Laches, I am sensible of both your carefulness and your
good-will, and I am persuaded that all you say is just as you say: and
I would have you believe me in this; I am anxious for her to return to
you, if I possibly can by any means effect it.
LACH. What is it prevents you from effecting it? Come, now, does she
make any complaint against her husband?
PHID. By no means; for when I urged it still more strongly, and
attempted to constrain her by force to return, she solemnly protested
that she couldn’t possibly remain with you, while Pamphilus was
absent. Probably each has his own failing; I am naturally of an
indulgent disposition; I can not thwart my own family.
LACH. (_turning to his wife, who stands apart._) Ha! Sostrata![34]
SOS. (_sighing deeply._) Alas! wretched me!
LACH. (_to PHIDIPPUS._) Is this your final determination?
PHID. For the present, at least, as it seems; but have you any thing
else to say? for I have some business that obliges me to go at once to
the Forum.
LACH. I’ll go with you. (_Exeunt._
SCENE III.
_SOSTRATA alone._
SOS. Upon my faith, we assuredly are all of us hated by our husbands
with equal injustice, on account of a few, who cause us all to appear
deserving of harsh treatment. For, so may the Gods prosper me, as to
what my husband accuses me of, I am quite guiltless. But it is not so
easy to clear myself, so strongly have people come to the conclusion
that all step-mothers are harsh: i’faith, not I, indeed, for I never
regarded her otherwise than if she had been my own daughter; nor can I
conceive how this has befallen me. But really, for many reasons,
I long for my son’s return home with impatience. (_Goes into her
house._)
ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE I.
_Enter PAMPHILUS and PARMENO._
PAM. No individual, I do believe, ever met with more crosses in love
than I. Alas! unhappy me! that I have {thus} been sparing of life! Was
it for this I was so very impatient to return home? O, how much more
preferable had it been for me to pass my life any where in the world
than to return here and be sensible that I am thus wretched! For all
of us know who have met with trouble from any cause, that all the time
that passes before we come to the knowledge of it, is so much gain.
PAR. Still, as it is, you’ll the sooner know how to extricate yourself
from these misfortunes. If you had not returned, this breach might
have become much wider; but now, Pamphilus, I am sure that both will
be awed by your presence. You will learn the facts, remove their
enmity, restore them to good feeling once again. {These} are but
trifles which you have persuaded yourself are {so} grievous.
PAM. Why comfort me? Is there a person in all the world so wretched as
{I}? Before I took her to wife, I had my heart engaged by other
affections. Now, though on this subject I should be silent, it is easy
for any one to know how much I have suffered; yet I never dared refuse
her whom my father forced upon me. With difficulty did I withdraw
myself from another, and disengage my affections so firmly rooted
there! and hardly had I fixed them in another quarter, when, lo! a new
misfortune has arisen, which may tear me from her too. Then besides,
I suppose that in this matter I shall find either my mother or my wife
in fault; and when I find such to be the fact, what remains but to
become still more wretched? For duty, Parmeno, bids me bear with the
feelings of a mother; then, to my wife I am bound by obligations; with
so much temper did she formerly bear my usage, and on no occasion
disclose the many wrongs {inflicted on her} by me. But, Parmeno,
something of consequence, I know not what it is, must have happened
for {this} misunderstanding to have arisen between them, that has
lasted so long.
PAR. Or else something frivolous, i’faith, if you would only give
words their proper value; those which are sometimes the greatest
enmities, do not argue the greatest injuries; for it often happens
that in certain circumstances, in which another would not even be out
of temper, for the very same reason a passionate man becomes your
greatest enemy. What enmities do children entertain among themselves
for trifling injuries! For what reason? Why, because they have a weak
understanding to direct them. Just so are these women, almost like
children with their fickle feelings; perhaps a single word has
occasioned this enmity between them, master.
PAM. Go, Parmeno, into the house, and carry word[35] that I have
arrived.
(_A noise is heard in the house of PHIDIPPUS._)
PAR. (_starting._) Ha! What means this?
PAM. Be silent. I perceive a bustling about, and a running to and fro.
PAR. (_going to the door._) Come then, I’ll approach nearer to the
door. (_He listens._) Ha! did you hear?
PAM. Don’t be prating. (_He listens._) O Jupiter, I heard a shriek!
PAR. You yourself are talking, while you forbid me.
MYR. (_within the house._) Prithee, my child, do be silent.
PAM. {That} seems to be the voice of Philumena’s mother. I’m undone!
PAR. Why so?
PAM. Utterly ruined!
PAR. For what reason?
PAM. Parmeno, you are concealing from me some great misfortune to me
unknown.
PAR. They said that your wife, Philumena, was in alarm about[36]
something, I know not what; whether that may be it, perchance, I don’t
know.
PAM. I am undone! Why didn’t you tell me of this?
PAR. Because I couldn’t {tell} every thing at once.
PAM. What is the malady?
PAR. I don’t know.
PAM. What! has no one brought a physician {to see her}?
PAR. I don’t know.
PAM. Why delay going in-doors, that I may know as soon as possible for
certain what it is? In what condition, Philumena, am I now to find
you? But if you are in any peril, beyond a doubt I will perish with
you. (_Goes into the house of PHIDIPPUS._)
SCENE II.
_PARMENO alone._
PAR. (_to himself._) There is no need for me to follow him into the
house at present, for I see that we are all disagreeable to them.
Yesterday, no one would give Sostrata admittance. If, perchance, the
malady should become worse, which really I could far from wish, for my
master’s sake especially, they would at once say that Sostrata’s
servant had been in there; they would invent a story that I had
brought some mischief against their lives and persons, in consequence
of which the malady had been increased. My mistress would be blamed,
and I should incur heavy punishment.[37]
SCENE III.
_Enter SOSTRATA._
SOS. (_to herself._) In dreadful alarm, I have for some time heard,
I know not what confusion going on here; I’m sadly afraid Philumena’s
illness is getting worse. Æsculapius, I do entreat thee, and thee,
Health,[38] that it may not be so. Now I’ll go visit her. (_Approaches
the door._)
PAR. (_coming forward._) Hark you, Sostrata.
SOS. (_turning round._) Well.
PAR. You will again be shut out there.
SOS. What, Parmeno, is it you? I’m undone! wretch that I am, what
shall I do? Am I not to go see the wife of Pamphilus, when she is ill
here next door?
PAR. Not go see her! Don’t even send any person for the purpose of
seeing {her}; for I’m of opinion that he who loves a person to whom he
is an object of dislike, commits a double mistake: he himself takes a
useless trouble, and causes annoyance to the other. Besides, your son
went in to see how she is, as soon as he arrived.
SOS. What is it you say? Has Pamphilus arrived?
PAR. He has.
SOS. I give thanks unto the Gods! Well, through that news my spirits
are revived, and anxiety has departed from my heart.
PAR. For this reason, then, I am especially unwilling you should go in
there; for if Philumena’s malady at all abates, she will, I am sure,
when they are by themselves, at once tell him all the circumstances;
both what misunderstandings have arisen between you, {and} how the
difference first began. But see, he’s coming out-- how sad {he looks}!
SCENE IV.
_Re-enter PAMPHILUS, from the house of PHIDIPPUS._
SOS. (_running up to him._) O my son! (_Embraces him._)
PAM. My mother, blessings on you.
SOS. I rejoice that you are returned safe. Is Philumena in a fair way?
PAM. She is a little better. (_Weeping._)
SOS. Would that the Gods may grant it so! Why, then, do you weep, or
why so dejected?
PAM. All’s well, mother.
SOS. What meant that confusion? Tell me; was she suddenly taken ill?
PAM. Such was the fact.
SOS. What is her malady?
PAM. A fever.
SOS. An intermitting one?[39]
PAM. So they say. Go in the house, please, mother; I’ll follow you
immediately.
SOS. Very well. (_Goes into her house._)
PAM. Do you run and meet the servants, Parmeno, and help them with the
baggage.
PAR. Why, don’t they know the way themselves to come to our house?
PAM. (_stamping._) Do you loiter? (_Exit PARMENO._
SCENE V.
_PAMPHILUS, alone._
PAM. I can not discover any fitting commencement of my troubles, at
which to begin to narrate the things that have so unexpectedly
befallen me, some of which with these eyes I have beheld; some I have
heard with my ears; {and} on account of which I so hastily betook
myself, in extreme agitation, out of doors. For just now, when, full
of alarm, I rushed into the house, expecting to find my wife afflicted
with some other malady than what I have found it to be;-- ah me!
immediately the servant-maids beheld that I had arrived, they all at
the same moment joyfully exclaimed, “He is come,” from having so
suddenly caught sight of me. But I soon perceived the countenances of
all of them change,[40] because at so unseasonable a juncture chance
had brought me there. One of them in the mean time hastily ran before
me to give notice that I had come. Impatient to see my wife,
I followed close. When I entered the room, that instant, to my sorrow,
I found out her malady; for neither did the time afford any interval
to enable her to conceal it, nor could she complain in any other
accents than {those which} the case itself prompted. When I perceived
{this}: “O disgraceful conduct!” I exclaimed, and instantly hurried
away from the spot in tears, overwhelmed by such an incredible and
shocking circumstance. Her mother followed me; just as I got to the
threshold, she threw herself on her knees: I felt compassion for her.
Assuredly it is the fact, in my opinion, just as matters befall us
all, so are we elated or depressed. At once she began to address me in
these words: “O my {dear} Pamphilus, you see the reason why she left
your house; for violence was offered to her when formerly a maid, by
some villain to us unknown. Now, she took refuge here then, that from
you and others she might conceal her labor.” But when I call to mind
her entreaties, I can not, wretched as I am, refrain from tears.
“Whatever chance or fortune it is,” said she, “which has brought you
here to-day, by it we do both conjure you, if with equity and justice
we may, that her misfortune may be concealed by you, and kept a secret
from all. If ever you were sensible, my {dear} Pamphilus, that she was
tenderly disposed toward you, she now asks you to grant her this favor
in return, without making any difficulty of it. But as to taking her
back, act quite according to your own convenience. You alone are aware
of her lying-in, and that the child is none of yours. For it is said
that it was two months after the marriage before she had commerce with
you. And then, this is but the seventh month since she came to
you.[41] That you are sensible of this, the circumstances themselves
prove. Now, if it is possible, Pamphilus, I especially wish, and will
use my endeavors, that her labor may remain unknown to her father, and
to all, in fact. But if that can not be managed, and they do find it
out, I will say that she miscarried; I am sure no one will suspect
otherwise than, what is so likely, the child was by you. It shall be
instantly exposed; in that case there is no inconvenience whatever to
yourself, and you will be concealing an outrage so undeservingly
committed upon her,[42] poor thing!” I promised {this}, and I am
resolved to keep faith in what I said. But as to taking her back,
really I do not think that would be at all creditable, nor will I do
so, although love for her, and habit, have a strong influence upon me.
I weep when it occurs to my mind, what must be her life, and {how
great} her loneliness in future. O Fortune, thou hast never been found
constant! But by this time {my} former passion has taught me
experience in the present case. The means by which I got rid of that,
I must employ on the present occasion. Parmeno is coming with the
servants; it is far from convenient that he should be here under
present circumstances, for he was the only person to whom I trusted
the secret that I kept aloof from her when I first married her. I am
afraid lest, if he should frequently hear her cries, he might find out
that she is in labor. He must be dispatched by me somewhere till
Philumena is delivered.
SCENE VI.
_Enter at a distance PARMENO and SOSIA, with people carrying
baggage._
PAR. (_to SOSIA._) Do you say that this voyage was disagreeable to
you?
SOSIA. Upon my faith, Parmeno, it can not be so much as expressed in
words, how disagreeable it is to go on a voyage.
PAR. Do you say so?
SOSIA. O lucky man! You don’t know what evils you have escaped, by
never having been at sea. For to say nothing of other hardships, mark
this one only; thirty days or more[43] was I on board that ship, and
every moment, to my horror, was in continual expectation of death:
such unfavorable weather did we always meet with.
PAR. How annoying!
SOSIA. That’s not unknown to me: in fine, upon my faith, I would
rather run away than go back, if I knew that I should have to go back
there.
PAR. Why really, but slight causes formerly made you, Sosia, do what
now you are threatening to do. But I see Pamphilus himself standing
before the door. (_To the Attendants, who go into the house of
LACHES._) Go in-doors; I’ll accost him, {to see} if he wants any thing
with me. (_Accosts PAMPHILUS._) What, still standing here, master?
PAM. Yes, and waiting for you.
PAR. What’s the matter?
PAM. You must run across to the citadel.[44]
PAR. Who must?
PAM. You.
PAR. To the citadel? Why thither?
PAM. To meet Callidemides, my entertainer at Myconos, who came over in
the same ship with me.
PAR. (_aside._) Confusion! I should say he has made a vow that if ever
he should return home safe, he would rupture me[45] with walking.
PAM. Why are you lingering?
PAR. What do you wish me to say? Or am I to meet him only?
PAM. No; say that I can not meet him to-day, as I appointed, so that
he may not wait for me to no purpose. Fly!
PAR. But I don’t know the man’s appearance.
PAM. Then I’ll tell you how to know it; a huge {fellow}, ruddy, with
curly hair, fat, with gray eyes {and} freckled countenance.
PAR. May the Gods confound him! What if he shouldn’t come? Am I to
wait {there}, even till the evening?
PAM. Yes, wait {there}. Run!
PAR. I can’t; I am so tired. (_Exit slowly._
SCENE VII.
_PAMPHILUS, alone._
PAM. He’s off. What shall I do in this distressed situation? Really,
I don’t know in what way I’m to conceal this, as Myrrhina entreated
me, her daughter’s lying-in; but I do pity the woman. What I can, I’ll
do; {only} so long, however, as I observe my duty; for it is proper
that I should be regardful of a parent,[46] rather than of my passion.
But look-- I see Phidippus and my father. They are coming this way;
what to say to them, I’m at a loss. (_Stands apart._)
SCENE VIII.
_Enter, at a distance, LACHES and PHIDIPPUS._
LACH. Did you not say, just now, that she was waiting for my son’s
return?
PHID. Just so.
LACH. They say that he has arrived; let her return.
PAM. (_apart to himself, aloud._) What excuse to make to my father for
not taking her back, I don’t know!
LACH. (_turning round._) Who was it I heard speaking here?
PAM. (_apart._) I am resolved to persevere in the course I determined
to pursue.
LACH. ’Tis the very person about whom I was talking to you.
PAM. Health to you, my father.
LACH. Health to you, my son.
PHID. I am glad that you have returned, Pamphilus, and the more
especially so, as you are safe and well.
PAM. I believe you.
LACH. Have you but just arrived?
PAM. Only just now.
LACH. Tell me, what has our cousin Phania left us?
PAM. Why really, i’faith, he was a man very much devoted to pleasure
while he lived; and those who are so, don’t much benefit their heirs,
but for themselves leave this commendation: While he lived, he lived
well.[47]
LACH. So then, you have brought home nothing more[48] than a single
sentiment?
PAM. Whatever he has left, we are the gainers by it.
LACH. Why no, it has proved a loss; for I could have wished him alive
and well.
PHID. You may wish that with impunity; he’ll never come to life again;
and after all I know which of the two you would prefer.
LACH. Yesterday, he (_pointing to PHIDIPPUS_) desired Philumena to be
fetched to his house. (_Whispers to PHIDIPPUS, nudging him with his
elbow._) Say that you desired it.
PHID. (_aside to LACHES._) Don’t punch me so. (_To PAMPHILUS._)
I desired it.
LACH. But he’ll now send her home again.
PHID. Of course.
PAM. I know the whole affair, and how it happened; I heard it just
now, on my arrival.
LACH. Then may the Gods confound those spiteful people who told this
news with such readiness!
PAM. (_to PHIDIPPUS._) I am sure that it has been my study, that with
reason no slight might possibly be committed by your family; and if I
were now truthful to mention of how faithful, loving, and tender a
disposition I have proved toward her, I could {do so} truly, did I not
rather wish that you should learn it of herself; for by that method
you will be the more ready to place confidence in my disposition when
she, who is now acting unjustly toward me, speaks favorably of me. And
that through no fault of mine this separation has taken place, I call
the Gods to witness. But since she considers that it is not befitting
her to give way to my mother, and with readiness to conform to her
temper, and as on no other terms it is possible for good feeling to
exist between them, either my mother must be separated, Phidippus,
from me, or else Philumena. Now affection urges me rather to consult
my mother’s pleasure.
LACH. Pamphilus, your words have reached my ears not otherwise than to
my satisfaction, since I find that you postpone all considerations for
your parent. But take care, Pamphilus, lest impelled by resentment,
you carry matters too far.
PAM. How, impelled by resentment, could I now be biased against her
who never has been guilty of any thing toward me, father, that I could
not wish, and who has often deserved as well as I could desire? I both
love and praise and exceedingly regret her, for I have found by
experience that she was of a wondrously engaging disposition with
regard to myself; and I sincerely wish that she may spend the
remainder of her life with a husband who may prove more fortunate than
me, since necessity {thus} tears her from me.
PHID. ’Tis in your own power to prevent that.
LACH. If you are in your senses, order her to come back.
PAM. It is not my intention, father; I shall study my mother’s
interests. (_Going away._)
LACH. Whither are you going? Stay, stay, I tell you; whither are you
going? (_Exit PAMPHILUS._
SCENE IX.
_LACHES and PHIDIPPUS._
PHID. What obstinacy is this?
LACH. Did I not tell you, Phidippus, that he would take this matter
amiss? It was for that reason I entreated you to send your daughter
back.
PHID. Upon my faith, I did not believe he would be so brutish; does he
now fancy that I shall come begging to him? If {so} it is that he
chooses to take back his wife, why, let him; if he is of another mind,
let him pay back her portion,[49] {and} take himself off.
LACH. Just look at that, now; you too are getting obstinate and
huffish.
PHID. (_speaking with anger._) You have returned to us in a very
ungovernable mood, Pamphilus.
LACH. This anger will depart; although he has some reason for being
vexed.
PHID. Because you have had a windfall, a little money, your minds are
elevated.
LACH. Are you going to fall out with me, too?
PHID. Let him consider, and bring me word to-day, whether he will or
will not, that she may belong to another if she does not to him.
(_Goes hastily into his own house._)
LACH. Phidippus, stay; listen to a few words--
SCENE X.
_LACHES, alone._
LACH. He’s off; what matters it to me? In fine, let them manage it
between themselves, just as they please; since neither my son nor he
pay any regard to me; they care but little for what I say. I’ll carry
the quarrel to my wife, by whose planning all these things have been
brought about, and against her I will vent all the vexation that I
feel.
ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I.
_Enter MYRRHINA, from her house._
MYR. I am undone! What am I to do? which way turn myself? In my
wretchedness, what answer am I to give to my husband? For he seems to
have heard the voice of the child when crying, so suddenly did he rush
in to my daughter without saying a word. What if he comes to know that
she has been delivered? for what reason I am to say I kept it
concealed, upon my faith I do not know. But there’s a noise at the
door; I believe it is himself coming out to me: I’m utterly undone!
SCENE II.
_Enter PHIDIPPUS, from the house._
PHID. (_to himself._) My wife, when she saw me going to my daughter,
betook herself out of the house: and look, there she is. (_Addressing
her._) What have you to say, Myrrhina? Hark you! to you I speak.
MYR. What, to me, my husband?
PHID. Am I your husband? Do you consider me a husband, or a man, in
fact? For, woman, if I had ever appeared to you to be either of these,
I should not in this way have been held in derision by your doings.
MYR. By what {doings}?
PHID. Do you ask the question? Is not your daughter brought to bed?
Eh, are you silent? By whom?
MYR. Is it proper for a father to be asking such a question? Oh,
shocking! By whom do you think, pray, except by him to whom she was
given in marriage?
PHID. I believe it; nor indeed is it for a father to think otherwise.
But I wonder much what the reason can be for which you so very much
wish all of us to be in ignorance of the truth, especially when she
has been delivered properly, and at the right time.[50] That you
should be of a mind so perverse as to prefer that the child should
perish, through which you might be sure that hereafter there would be
a friendship more lasting between us, rather than that, at the expense
of your feelings, his wife should continue with him! I supposed this
to be their fault, while {in reality} it lies with you.
MYR. I am an unhappy creature!
PHID. I wish I were sure that so it was; but now it recurs to my mind
what you once said about this matter, when we accepted him as {our}
son-in-law. For you declared that you could not endure your daughter
to be married to a person who was attached to a courtesan, {and} who
spent his nights away from home.
MYR. (_aside._) Any cause whatever I had rather he should suspect than
the right one.
PHID. I knew much sooner than you did, Myrrhina, that he kept a
mistress; but this I never considered a crime in young men; for it is
natural to them all. For, i’ faith, the time will soon come when even
he will be disgusted with himself {for doing so}. But just as you
formerly showed yourself, you have never ceased to be the same up to
the present time; in order that you might withdraw your daughter from
him, and that what I did might not hold good, one thing itself now
plainly proves how far you wished it carried out.
MYR. Do you suppose that I am so willful that I could have entertained
such feelings toward one whose mother I am, if this match had been to
our advantage?
PHID. Can you possibly foresee or judge what is to our advantage? You
have heard it of some one, perhaps, who has told you that he has seen
him coming from or going to his mistress. What then? If he has done so
with discretion, and but occasionally, is it not more kind in us to
conceal our knowledge of it, than to do our best to be aware of it, in
consequence of which he will detest us? For if he could all at once
have withdrawn himself from her with whom he had been intimate for so
many years, I should not have deemed him a man, or likely to prove a
constant husband for our daughter.
MYR. Do have done about the young man, I pray; and what you say I’ve
been guilty of. Go away, meet him by yourself; ask him whether he
wishes to have her as a wife or not; if so it is that he should say he
does wish it, {why}, send her {back}; but if on the other hand he does
not wish it, I have taken the best course for my {child}.
PHID. And suppose he does not wish it, and you, Myrrhina, knew him to
be in fault; {still} I was at hand, by whose advice it was proper for
these matters to be settled; therefore I am greatly offended that you
have presumed to act thus without my leave. I forbid you to attempt to
carry the child any where out of this house. But I am very foolish to
be expecting her to obey my orders. I’ll go in-doors, and charge the
servants to allow it to be carried out nowhere. (_Goes into the
house._)
SCENE III.
_MYRRHINA, alone._
MYR. Upon my faith, I do believe that there is no woman living more
wretched than I; for how he would take it, if he came to know the real
state of the case, i’ faith, is not unknown to me, when he bears this,
which is of less consequence, with such angry feelings; and I know not
in what way his sentiments can possibly be changed. Out of very many
misfortunes, this one evil alone had been wanting to me, for him to
compel me to rear a child of whom we know not who is the father; for
when my daughter was ravished, it was so dark that his person could
not be distinguished, nor was any thing taken from him on the occasion
by which it could be afterward discovered who he was. He, on leaving
her, took away from the girl, by force, a ring which[51] she had upon
her finger. I am afraid, too, of Pamphilus, that he may be unable any
longer to conceal what I have requested, when he learns that the child
of another is being brought up as his. (_Goes into the house._)
SCENE IV.
_Enter SOSTRATA and PAMPHILUS._
SOS. It is not unknown to me, my son, that I am suspected by you as
the cause of your wife having left our house in consequence of my
conduct; although you carefully conceal your knowledge of it. But so
may the Gods prosper me, and so may you answer all my hopes, I have
never knowingly deserved that hatred of me should with reason possess
her; and while I thought before that you loved me, on that point you
have confirmed my belief: for in-doors your father has just now
related to me in what way you have preferred me to your passion. Now
it is my determination to return you the favor, that you may
understand that with me lies the reward of your affection. My
Pamphilus, I think that this is expedient both for yourselves and my
own reputation. I have finally resolved to retire hence into the
country with your father, that my presence may not be an obstacle,
and that no pretense may remain why your Philumena should not return
to you.
PAM. Pray, what sort of resolution is this? Driven away by her folly,
would you be removing from the city to live in the country? You shall
not do {so}; and I will not permit, mother, any one who may wish to
censure us, to say that this has been done through my perverseness,
{and} not your inclination. Besides, I do not wish you, for my sake,
to forego your friends and relations, and festive days.[52]
SOS. Upon my word, these things afford me no pleasure now. While my
time of life permitted it, I enjoyed them enough; satiety of that mode
of life has now taken possession of me: this is at present my chief
concern, that the length of my life may prove an annoyance to no one,
or that he may look forward with impatience to my death.[53] Here I
see that, without deserving it, I am disliked; it is time for {me} to
retire. Thus, in the best way, I imagine, I shall cut short all
grounds {of discontent} with all; I shall both free myself from
suspicion, and shall be pleasing them. Pray, let me avoid this
reproach, which so generally attaches on women to their disadvantage.
PAM. (_aside._) How happy am I in other respects, were it not for this
one thing alone, in having such a {good} mother, and her for my wife!
SOS. Pray, my Pamphilus, can you not, seeing how each woman is,
prevail upon yourself to put up with one matter of inconvenience? If
every thing else is according to your wish, and such as I take it to
be-- my son, do grant me this indulgence, {and} take her back.
PAM. Alas! wretched me!
SOS. And me as well; for this affair does not cause me less sorrow
than you, my son.
SCENE V.
_Enter LACHES._
LACH. While standing just by here, I have heard, wife, the
conversation you have been holding with him. It is true wisdom to be
enabled to govern the feelings whenever there is necessity; to do at
the present moment what may perhaps, in the end, be necessary to be
done.
SOS. Good luck to it, i’troth.
LACH. Retire then into the country; there I will bear with you, and
you with me.
SOS. I hope so, i’faith.
LACH. Go in-doors then, and get together the things that are to be
taken with you. I have {now} said it.
SOS. I’ll do as you desire. (_Goes into the house._)
PAM. Father!
LACH. What do you want, Pamphilus?
PAM. My mother go away? By no means.
LACH. Why would you have it so?
PAM. Because I am as yet undetermined what I shall do about my wife.
LACH. How is that? What should you intend to do but bring her home?
PAM. For my part, I could like, and can hardly forbear it; but I shall
not alter my design; that which is most advantageous I shall pursue;
I suppose (_ironically_) that they will be better reconciled, in
consequence, if I shall take her back.
LACH. You can not tell. But it matters nothing to you which they do
when she has gone away. {Persons of} this age are disliked by young
people; it is right {for us} to withdraw from the world; in fine, we
are now a {nice} by-word. We are, Pamphilus, “the old man and the old
woman.”[54] But I see Phidippus coming out just at the time; let’s
accost him.
SCENE VI.
_Enter PHIDIPPUS, from his house._
PHID. (_speaking at the door to PHILUMENA, within._) Upon my faith,
I am angry with you too, Philumena, extremely so, for, on my word, you
have acted badly; still there is an excuse for you in this matter;
your mother forced you to it; but for her there is none.
LACH. (_accosting him._) Phidippus, you meet me at a lucky moment,
just at the very time.
PHID. What’s the matter?
PAM. (_aside._) What answer shall I make them, or in what manner keep
this secret?
LACH. (_to PHIDIPPUS._) Tell your daughter that Sostrata is going into
the country, that she may not now be afraid of returning home.
PHID. Alas! your wife has been guilty of no fault in this affair; all
this {mischief} has originated in my wife Myrrhina.
PAM. (_aside._) They are changing sides.
PHID. ’Tis she that causes our disturbances, Laches.
PAM. (_aside._) So long as I don’t take her back, let her cause as
much disturbance as she pleases.
PHID. I, Pamphilus, could really wish, if it were possible, this
alliance between us to be lasting; but if you are otherwise inclined,
{still} take the child.[55]
PAM. (_aside._) He has discovered that she has been brought to bed.
I’m undone!
LACH. The child! What child?
PHID. We have had a grandson born to us; for my daughter was removed
from you in a state of pregnancy, and yet never before this day did I
know that she was pregnant.
LACH. So may the Gods prosper me, you bring good tidings, and I am
glad a child has been born, and that she is safe: but what {kind of}
woman have you for a wife, or of what sort of a temper, that we should
have been kept in ignorance of this so long? I can not sufficiently
express how disgraceful this conduct appears to me.
PHID. This conduct does not vex me less than yourself, Laches.
PAM. (_aside._) Even if it had just now been a matter of doubt to me,
it is so no longer, since the child of another man is to accompany
her.
LACH. Pamphilus, there is no room now for deliberation for you in this
matter.
PAM. (_aside._) I’m undone!
LACH. (_to PAMPHILUS._) We were often longing to see the day on which
there should be one to call you father; it has come to pass. I return
thanks to the Gods.
PAM. (_aside._) I am ruined!
LACH. Take home your wife, and don’t oppose my will.
PAM. Father, if she had wished to have children by me, or to continue
to be my wife, I am quite certain she would not have concealed from me
what I find she has concealed. Now, as I find that her mind is
estranged from me, and think that there would be no agreement between
us in future, why should I take her back?
LACH. The young woman has done what her mother persuaded her. Is that
to be wondered at? Do you suppose you can find any woman who is free
from fault? Or is it that men have no failings?
PHID. Do you yourselves now consider, Laches, and you, Pamphilus,
whether it is most advisable for you to leave her or take her back.
What your wife may do, is not in my control. Under neither
circumstance will you meet with any difficulty from me. But what are
we to do with the child?
LACH. You do ask an absurd question; whatever happens, send him back
his {child} of course, that we may bring it up as ours.
PAM. (_in a low voice._) A child which the father has abandoned, am I
to rear?
LACH. What was it you said? How-- not rear it, Pamphilus? Prithee, are
we to expose it, in preference? What madness is this? Really, I can
not now be silent any longer. For you force me to say in his presence
(_pointing to PHIDIPPUS_) what I would rather not. Do you suppose I am
in ignorance {of the cause} of your tears, or what it is on account of
which you are perplexed to this degree? In the first place, when you
alleged as a reason, that, on account of your mother, you could not
have your wife at home, she promised that she would leave the house.
Now, since you see this pretext as well taken away from you, because a
child has been born without your knowledge, you have got another. You
are mistaken if you suppose that I am ignorant of your feelings. That
at last you might prevail upon your feelings to take this step, how
long a period for loving a mistress did I allow you! With what
patience did I bear the expense you were at in keeping her!
I remonstrated with you and entreated you to take a wife. I said that
it was time: by my persuasion you married. What you then did in
obedience to me, you did as became you. Now again you have set your
fancy upon a mistress, and, to gratify her, you do an injury to the
other as well. For I see plainly that you have once more relapsed into
the same course of life.
PAM. What, I?
LACH. Your own self, and you act unjustly therein. You feign false
grounds for discord, that you may live with her when you have got rid
of this witness {of your actions}; your wife has perceived it too; for
what other reason had she for leaving you?
PHID. (_to himself._) It’s clear he guesses right; for that must be
it.
PAM. I will give you my oath that none of these is the reason.
LACH. Oh take home your wife, or tell me why you should not.
PAM. It is not the time at present.
LACH. Take the child, for surely that is not in fault; I will consider
about the mother afterward.
PAM. (_apart._) In every way I am wretched, and what to do I know not;
with so many troubles is my father now besetting wretched me on every
side. I’ll go away from here, since I avail but little by my presence.
For without my consent, I do not believe that they will bring up the
child, especially as on that point my mother-in-law will second me.
(_Exit speedily._
SCENE VII.
_LACHES and PHIDIPPUS._
LACH. (_to PAMPHILUS._) Do you run away? What, and give me no distinct
answer? (_To PHIDIPPUS._) Does he seem to you to be in his senses? Let
him alone. Phidippus, give me the child; I’ll bring it up.
PHID. By all means. No wonder if my wife has taken this amiss: women
are resentful; they do not easily put up with such things. Hence that
anger of hers, for she herself told me of it; I would not mention this
to you in his presence, and at first I did not believe her; but now it
is true beyond a doubt; for I see that his feelings are altogether
averse to marriage.
LACH. What am I to do, then, Phidippus? What advice do you give?
PHID. What are you to do? I am of opinion that first we ought to go to
this mistress of {his}. Let us use entreaties with her; {then} let us
rebuke her; and at last, let us very seriously threaten her, if she
gives him any encouragement in future.
LACH. I will do as you advise. (_Turning to an ATTENDANT._) Ho, there,
boy! run to the house of Bacchis here, our neighbor; desire her, in my
name, to come hither. (_Exit ATTENDANT._) And you, I further entreat,
to give me your assistance in this affair.
PHID. Well, I have already said, and I now say again to the same
effect, Laches, I wish this alliance between us to continue, if by any
means it possibly may, which I trust will be the case. But should you
like[56] me to be with you while you meet her?
LACH. Why yes; but first go and get some one as a nurse for the child.
(_Exit PHIDIPPUS._
SCENE VIII.
_Enter BACCHIS, attended by her WOMEN._
BACCH. (_to her WOMEN._) It is not for nothing that Laches now desires
to speak with me; and, i’ faith, I am not very far from mistaken in
making a guess what it is he wants me for.
LACH. (_to himself._) I must take care that I don’t, through anger,
miss gaining in this quarter what I {otherwise} might, and that I
don’t do any thing which hereafter it would have been better I had not
done. I’ll accost her. (_Accosts her._) Bacchis, good-morrow to you!
BACCH. Good-morrow to you, Laches!
LACH. Troth, now, Bacchis, I suppose you somewhat wonder what can be
my reason for sending the lad to fetch you out of doors.
BACCH. Upon my faith, I am even in some anxiety as well, when I
reflect what I am, lest the name of my calling should be to my
prejudice; for my behavior I can easily defend.
LACH. If you speak the truth, you will be in no danger, woman, from
me, for I am now of that age that it is not meet for me to receive
forgiveness for a fault; for that reason do I the more carefully
attend to every particular, that I may not act with rashness; for if
you now do, or intend to do, that which is proper for deserving
{women} to do, it would be unjust for me, in my ignorance, to offer an
injury to you, when undeserving of it.
BACCH. On my word, great is the gratitude that I ought to feel toward
you for such conduct; for he who, after committing an injury, would
excuse himself, would profit me but little. But what is the matter?
LACH. You admit my son, Pamphilus, to your house.
BACCH. Ah!
LACH. Just let me {speak}: before he was married to this woman,
I tolerated your amour. Stay! I have not yet said to you what I
intended. He has now got a wife: look out for another person more to
be depended on, while you have time to deliberate; for neither will he
be of this mind all his life, nor, i’ faith, will you be {always} of
your present age.
BACCH. Who is it says this?
LACH. His mother-in-law.
BACCH. What! that I--
LACH. That you {do}: and she has taken away her daughter; and for that
reason, has wished secretly to destroy the child that has been born.
BACCH. Did I know any other means whereby I might be enabled to
establish my credit with you, more solemn than an oath, I would,
Laches, assure you of this, that I have kept Pamphilus at a
distance[57] from me ever since he took a wife.
LACH. You are very good. But, pray, do you know what I would prefer
that you should do?
BACCH. What? Tell me.
LACH. Go in-doors there (_pointing to the house of PHIDIPPUS_) to the
women, and make the same promise, on oath, to them; satisfy their
minds, and clear yourself from this charge.
BACCH. I will do {so}; although, i’faith, if it had been any other
woman of this calling, she would not have done so, I am quite sure;
present herself before a married woman for such a purpose! But I do
not wish your son to be suspected on an unfounded report, nor appear
inconstant, undeservedly, to you, to whom he by no means ought; for he
has deserved of me, that, so far as I am able, I should do him a
service.
LACH. Your language has rendered me quite friendly and well disposed
toward you; but not only did they think {so}-- I too believed it. Now
that I have found you quite different from what I had expected, take
care that you still continue the same-- make use of my friendship as
you please; if otherwise----; but I will forbear, that you may not
hear any thing unkind from me. But this one thing I recommend you--
make trial what sort of a friend I am, or what I can effect {as such},
rather than {what as} an enemy.
SCENE IX.
_Enter PHIDIPPUS and a NURSE._
PHID. (_to the NURSE._) Nothing at my house will I suffer you to be in
want of; but whatever is requisite shall be supplied {you} in
abundance. Still, when you are well fed and well drenched, do take
care that the child has enough. (_The NURSE goes into his house._)
LACH. (_to BACCHIS._) My son’s father-in-law, I see, is coming; he is
bringing a nurse for the child. (_Accosting him._) Phidippus, Bacchis
swears most solemnly.
PHID. Is this she?
LACH. It is.
PHID. Upon my faith, those women don’t fear the Gods; and I don’t
think that the Gods care about them.
BACCH. (_pointing to her ATTENDANTS._) I will give you up my female
servants; with my full permission, examine them with any tortures you
please. The business at present is this: I must make his wife return
home to Pamphilus; should I effect that, I shall not regret its being
reported that I have been the only one to do what other courtesans
avoid doing.[58]
LACH. We find, Phidippus, that our wives have been unjustly
suspected[59] by us in this matter. Let us now try her still further;
for if your wife discovers that she has given credence to a false
charge, she will dismiss her resentment; but if my son is also angry,
by reason of the circumstance that his wife has been brought to bed
without his knowledge, that is a trifle: his anger on that account
will speedily subside. Assuredly in this matter, there is nothing so
bad as to be deserving of a separation.
PHID. I sincerely wish it may be {so}.
LACH. Examine {her}; here she is; she herself will satisfy you.
PHID. Why do you tell me these things? {Is it} because you have not
already heard what my feelings are with regard to this matter, Laches?
Do you only satisfy their minds.
LACH. Troth now, Bacchis, I do entreat that what you have promised me
you will do.
BACCH. Would you wish me, then, to go in about this business?
LACH. Go, and satisfy their minds, so as to make them believe it.
BACCH. I’ll go: although, upon my word, I am quite sure that my
presence will be disagreeable to them, for a married woman is the
enemy of a mistress, when she has been separated from her husband.
LACH. But they will be your friends, when they know the reason of your
coming.
PHID. And I promise that they shall be your friends, when they know
the fact; for you will release them from their mistake, and yourself,
at the same time, from suspicion.
BACCH. Wretched me! I’m ashamed {to meet} Philumena. (_To her
ATTENDANTS._) Do you both follow me into the house. (_Goes into the
house with PHIDIPPUS and her ATTENDANTS._)
LACH. (_to himself._) What is there that I could more wish for, than
what I see has happened to this woman? To gain favor without loss to
myself, and to benefit myself at {the same time}. For if now it is the
fact that she has really withdrawn from Pamphilus, she knows that by
that step she has acquired honor and reputation: she returns the favor
to him, and, by the same means, attaches us as friends to herself.
(_Goes into the house._)
ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I.
_Enter PARMENO, moving along with difficulty._
PAR. (_to himself._) Upon my faith, my master does assuredly think my
labor of little value; to have sent me for nothing, where I have been
sitting the whole day to no purpose, waiting at the citadel for
Callidemides, his landlord at Myconos. And so, while sitting there
to-day, {like} a fool, as each person came by, I accosted him:--
“Young man, just tell me, pray, are you a Myconian?” “I am not.” “But
is your name Callidemides?” “No.” “Have you any {former} guest here
{named} Pamphilus?” All said. “No; and I don’t believe that there is
any such person.” At last, i’ faith, I was quite ashamed, {and} went
away. But how is it I see Bacchis coming out of our neighbor’s? What
business can she have there?
SCENE II.
_Enter BACCHIS, from the house of PHIDIPPUS._
BACCH. Parmeno, you make your appearance opportunely; run with all
speed[60] to Pamphilus.
PAR. Why thither?
BACCH. Say that I entreat him to come.
PAR. To your house?
BACCH. No; to Philumena.
PAR. What’s the matter?
BACCH. Nothing that concerns you; so cease to make inquiry.
PAR. Am I to say nothing else?
BACCH. Yes; that Myrrhina has recognized that ring as her daughter’s,
which he formerly gave me.
PAR. I understand-- is that all?
BACCH. That’s all. He will be here directly he has heard this from
you. But do you linger?
PAR. Far from it, indeed; for I’ve not had the opportunity given me
to-day; so much with running and walking about have I wasted the whole
day. (_Goes into the house of LACHES._)
SCENE III.
_BACCHIS, alone._
BACCH. What great joy have I caused for Pamphilus by my coming to-day!
How many blessings have I brought him! and from how many sorrows have
I rescued him! A son I save for him, when it was nearly perishing
through the agency of these {women} and of himself: a wife, whom he
thought that he must cast off forever, I restore {to him}: from the
suspicion that he lay under with his father and Phidippus, I have
cleared him. This ring, in fact, was the cause of these discoveries
being made. For I remember, that about ten months ago, at an early
hour of night, he came running home to my house, out of breath,
without a companion, and surcharged with wine,[61] with this ring {in
his hand}. I felt alarmed immediately: “My Pamphilus,” I said,
“prithee, my dear, why thus breathless, or where did you get that
ring? --tell me!” He {began} to pretend that he was thinking of
something else. When I saw {that}, I began to suspect I know not what,
{and} to press him still more to tell me. The fellow confessed that he
had ravished {some female}, he knew not whom, in the street; and said,
that while she was struggling, he had taken that ring away from her.
Myrrhina here recognized it just now, while I had it on my finger. She
asked whence it came: I told her all the story. Hence the discovery
has been made that it was Philumena ravished by him, and that this
new-born child is his. I am overjoyed that this happiness has befallen
him through my agency; although other courtesans would not have
similar feelings; nor, indeed, is it to our interest that any lover
should find pleasure in matrimony. But, i’faith, I never, for the sake
of gain, will give my mind to base actions. So long as I had the
opportunity, I found him to be kind, easy, and good-natured. This
marriage has fallen out unluckily for me,-- that I confess to be the
fact. But, upon my word, I do think that I have done nothing for it to
befall me deservedly. It is but reasonable to endure inconveniences
from one from whom I have received so many benefits.
SCENE IV.
_Enter PAMPHILUS and PARMENO, from the house of LACHES, on the other
side of the stage._
PAM. Once more, take care, will you, my {dear} Parmeno, that you have
brought me a faithful and distinct account, so as not to allure me for
a short time to indulge in these transient joys.
PAR. I have taken care.
PAM. For certain?
PAR. For certain.
PAM. I am quite a God, if it is so!
PAR. You’ll find it true.
PAM. Just stay, will you; I fear that I’m believing one thing, and you
are telling another.
PAR. I am staying.
PAM. I think you said to this effect-- that Myrrhina had discovered
that Bacchis has her ring.
PAR. It is the fact.
PAM. The one I formerly gave to her; and she has desired you to tell
me this: is such the fact?
PAR. Such is so, I tell you.
PAM. Who is there happier than I, and, in fact, more full of
joyousness? What am I to present you for these tidings? What? --what?
I know not.
PAR. But I know.
PAM. What?
PAR. Why, nothing; for neither in the tidings nor in myself do I know
of there being any advantage to you.
PAM. What! am I to suffer you, who have caused me, when dead, to be
restored from the shades to life-- to leave me unrewarded? Oh, you
deem me too thankless! But look-- I see Bacchis standing before the
door; she’s waiting for me, I suppose; I’ll accost her.
BACCH. Save you, Pamphilus!
PAM. Oh Bacchis! Oh my Bacchis-- my preserver!
BACCH. {It is} a fortunate thing, and gives me great delight.
PAM. By your actions, you give me reason to believe you, and so much
do you retain your former charming qualities, that wherever you go,
the meeting with you, your company, your conversation, always give
pleasure.
BACCH. And you, upon my word, possess your former manners and
disposition; so much so that not a single man living is more engaging
than you.
PAM. (_laughing._) Ha, ha, ha! do you {tell} me so?
BACCH. You had reason, Pamphilus, for being so fond of your wife. For
never before to-day did I set eyes upon her, so as to know her: she
seems a very gentle person.
PAM. Tell the truth.
BACCH. So may the Gods bless me, Pamphilus!
PAM. Tell me, have you as yet told any of these matters to my father?
BACCH. Not a word.
PAM. Nor is there need, in fact; therefore keep it a secret: I don’t
wish it to be the case here as it is in the Comedies,[62] where every
thing is known to every body. Here, those who ought to know, know
already; but those who ought not to know, shall neither hear of it nor
know it.
BACCH. Nay more, I will give you a {proof} why you may suppose that
this may be the more easily concealed. Myrrhina has told Phidippus to
this effect-- that she has given credit to my oath, and that, in
consequence, in her eyes you are exculpated.
PAM. Most excellent; and I trust that this matter will turn out
according to our wishes.
PAR. Master, may I not be allowed to know from you what is the good
that I have done to-day, or what it is you are talking about?
PAM. You may not.
PAR. Still I suspect. “I {restore} him, when dead, from the shades
below.”[63] In what way?
PAM. You don’t know, Parmeno, how much you have benefited me to-day,
and from what troubles you have extricated me.
PAR. Nay, but indeed I do know: and I did not do it without design.
PAM. I know that well enough (_ironically_).
BACCH. Could Parmeno, from negligence, omit any thing that ought to be
done?
PAM. Follow me in, Parmeno.
PAR. I’ll follow; for my part, I have done more good to-day, without
knowing it, than ever {I did}, knowingly, in all my life. (_Coming
forward._) Grant us your applause.[64]
FOOTNOTES
[Footnote 1: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]
[Footnote 2: From φειδὼ, “parsimony,” and ἱππὸς “a horse.”]
[Footnote 3: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]
[Footnote 4: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]
[Footnote 5: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]
[Footnote 6: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Heautontimorumenos.]
[Footnote 7: From μυῤῥινὴ “a myrtle.”]
[Footnote 8: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Heautontimorumenos.]
[Footnote 9: From φιλοτὴς “friendship.”]
[Footnote 10: From Syria, her native country.]
[Footnote 11: _Menander_)--According to some, this Play was
borrowed from the Greek of Apollodorus, a Comic Poet and
contemporary of Menander, who wrote forty-seven Plays.]
[Footnote 12: _Being Consuls_)--Cneius Octavius Nepos and T.
Manlius Torquatus were Consuls in the year from the building of
the City 587, and B.C. 166.]
[Footnote 13: _It was then approved of_)--“Placuit.” This is
placed at the end, in consequence of the inauspicious reception
which had been given to it on the two first representations. See
the account given in the Prologues.]
[Footnote 14: _Hecyra_)--Ver. 1. The Greek word Ἕκυρα,
a “step-mother,” or “mother-in-law,” Latinized.]
[Footnote 15: _And calamity_)--Ver. 3. “Calamitas.” This word is
used in the same sense in the first line of the Eunuch. This is
evidently the Prologue spoken on the second attempt to bring
forward the piece. On the first occasion it probably had none.
“Vitium” was a word used by the Augurs, with whom it implied an
unfavorable omen, and thence came to be used for any misfortune or
disaster. He seems to mean the depraved taste of the public, that
preferred exhibitions of rope-dancers and pugilists to witnessing
his Plays.]
[Footnote 16: _Again to sell it_)--Ver. 7. See the last Note to
the Second Prologue.]
[Footnote 17: _Other Plays of his_)--Ver. 8. Madame Dacier informs
us that Vossius was of opinion that the second representation of
this Play did not take place till after that of the Adelphi. In
that case, they had already seen the rest of his Plays.]
[Footnote 18: _Second Prologue_)--Eugraphius informs us that this
Prologue was spoken by Ambivius Turpio, the head of the company of
Actors.]
[Footnote 19: _Cæcilius_)--Ver. 14. Colman has the following Note:
“A famous Comic Poet among the Romans. His chief excellences are
said to have been, the gravity of his style and the choice of his
subjects. The first quality was attributed to him by Horace,
Tully, etc., and the last by Varro. ‘In argumentis Cæcilius poscit
palmam, in ethesi Terentius.’ ‘In the choice of subjects, Cæcilius
demands the preference; in the manners, Terence.’” Madame Dacier,
indeed, renders “in argumentis,” “in the disposition of his
subjects.” But the words will not bear that construction.
“Argumentum,” I believe, is uniformly used for the argument
itself, and never implies the conduct of it; as in the Prologue to
the Andrian, “non tam dissimili argumento.” Besides, the
disposition of the subject was the very art attributed by the
critics of those days to Terence, and which Horace mentions in the
very same line with the gravity of Cæcilius, distinguishing them
as the several characteristics of each writer, “Vincere Cæcilius
gravitate, Terentius arte.”]
[Footnote 20: _Vauntings of boxers_)--Ver. 33. Horace probably had
this passage in his mind when he penned the First Epistle in his
Second Book, l. 185; where he mentions the populace leaving a Play
in the midst for the sight of a bear, or an exhibition of boxers.]
[Footnote 21: _Of a rope-dancer_)--Ver. 34. The art of dancing on
the tight rope was carried to great perfection among the ancients.
Many paintings have been discovered, which show the numerous
attitudes which the performers assumed. The figures have their
heads enveloped in skins or caps, probably intended as a
protection in case of falling. At the conclusion of the
performance the dancer ran down the rope. Germanicus and Galba are
said to have exhibited elephants dancing on the tight rope.]
[Footnote 22: _The old custom of mine_)--Ver. 38. He says that on
the second representation he followed the plan which he had
formerly adopted in the Plays of Cæcilius, of bringing those
forward again which had not given satisfaction at first.]
[Footnote 23: _Fight for their places_)--Ver. 41. This was in
consequence of their sitting indiscriminately at the Amphitheatre,
where the gladiators were exhibited; whereas at the Theatres there
were distinct places appropriated to each “ordo” or class.]
[Footnote 24: _Gracing the scenic festival_)--Ver. 45. Madame
Dacier remarks that there is great force and eloquence in the
Actor’s affecting a concern for the sacred festivals, which were
in danger of being deprived of their chief ornaments, if by too
great a severity they discouraged the Poets who undertook to
furnish the Plays during the solemnity.]
[Footnote 25: _At my own expense_)--Ver. 57. It is generally
supposed that “meo pretio” means “a price named as my estimate;”
and that it was the custom for the Ædiles to purchase a Play of a
Poet at a price fixed by the head of the company of actors. It is
also thought that the money was paid to the actor, who handed over
the whole, or a certain part, to the Poet, and if the Play was not
received with favor, the Ædiles had the right to ask back the
money from the actor, who consequently became a loser by the
transaction. Pareus and Meric Casaubon think, however, that in
case of this Play, the Ædiles had purchased it from the Poet, and
the performers had bought it of the Ædiles as a speculation. What
he means at the end of the First Prologue by selling the Play over
again, is not exactly known. Perhaps if the Play had been then
performed throughout and received with no favor, he would have had
to forfeit the money, and lose all right to any future pecuniary
interest in it; but he preferred to cancel the whole transaction,
and to reserve the Play for purchase and representation at a more
favorable period.]
[Footnote 26: _Philotis_)--This is a protatic character, or one
that helps to introduce the subject of the Play, and then appears
no more.]
[Footnote 27: _Don’t say so, Parmeno_)--Ver. 109. She says this
ironically, at the same time intimating that she knows Parmeno too
well, not to be sure that he is as impatient to impart the secret
to her as she is to know it. Donatus remarks, that she pretends
she has no curiosity to hear it, that he may deem her the more
worthy to be intrusted with the secret.]
[Footnote 28: _Imbros_)--Ver. 171. An island in the Ægean Sea, off
the coast of Thrace.]
[Footnote 29: _From her presence_)--Ver. 182. For the purpose, as
will afterward appear, of not letting Sostrata see that she was
pregnant.]
[Footnote 30: _With a certain stranger_)--Ver. 195. Here Philotis
gives a reason, as Donatus observes, why she does not again appear
in the Play. The following is an extract from Colman’s remarks on
this passage: “It were to be wished, for the sake of the credit of
our author’s acknowledged {art} in the Drama, that Philotis had
assigned as good a reason for her appearing at all. Eugraphius
justly says: ‘The Courtesan in this Scene is a character quite
foreign to the fable.’ Donatus also says much the same thing in
his Preface, and in his first Note to this Comedy; but adds that
‘Terence chose this method rather than to relate the argument by
means of a Prologue, or to introduce a God speaking from a
machine. I will venture to say that the Poet might have taken a
much shorter and easier method than either; I mean, to have begun
the Play with the very Scene which now opens the Second Act.’”]
[Footnote 31: _Scene I._)--Colman has the following observations
on this Scene: “Donatus remarks that this Scene opens the
intention of Terence to oppose the generally-received opinion, and
to draw the character of a good step-mother. It would, therefore,
as has been already observed, have been a very proper Scene to
begin the Play, as it carries us immediately into the midst of
things; and we can not fail to be interested when we see the
persons acting so deeply interested themselves. We gather from it
just so much of the story as is necessary for our information at
first setting out. We are told of the abrupt departure of
Philumena, and are witnesses of the confusion in the two families
of Laches and Phidippus. The absence of Laches, which had been in
great measure the occasion of this misunderstanding, is also very
artfully mentioned in the altercation between him and Sostrata.
The character of Laches is very naturally drawn. He has a good
heart, and a testy disposition, and the poor old gentleman is kept
in such constant perplexity that he has perpetual occasion to
exert both those qualities.”]
[Footnote 32: _Intrust their children_)--Ver. 212. The plural
“liberos,” children, is used where only one is being spoken of,
similarly, in the Heautontimorumenos, l. 151.]
[Footnote 33: _If he comes to know_)--Ver. 262. Donatus observes
that the Poet shows his art in here preparing a reason to be
assigned by Pamphilus for his pretended discontent at the
departure of his wife.]
[Footnote 34: _Ha! Sostrata_)--Ver. 271. Colman observes on this
passage: “This is extremely artful. The answer of Philumena, as
related by Phidippus, contains an ample vindication of Pamphilus.
What, then, can we suppose could make the house so disagreeable to
her in his absence, but the behavior of Sostrata? She declares her
innocence; yet appearances are all against her. Supposing this to
be the first Act of the Play, it would be impossible for a Comedy
to open in a more interesting manner.”]
[Footnote 35: _And carry word_)--Ver. 314. It was the custom with
the Greeks and Romans, when returning from abroad, to send a
messenger before them, to inform their wives of their arrival.]
[Footnote 36: _Was in alarm about_)--Ver. 321. “Pavitare.”
Casaubon has a curious suggestion here; he thinks it not
improbable that he had heard the female servants whispering among
themselves that Philumena “paritare,” “was about to be brought to
bed,” which he took for “pavitare,” “was in fear” of something.]
[Footnote 37: _Heavy punishment_)--Ver. 335. Probably meaning that
he will be examined by torture, whether he has not, by drugs or
other means, contributed to Philumena’s illness.]
[Footnote 38: _And thee, Health_)--Ver. 338. She invokes
Æsculapius, the God of Medicine, and “Salus,” or “Health,”
because, in Greece, their statues were always placed near each
other; so that to have offered prayers to one and not to the
other, would have been deemed a high indignity. On the worship of
Æsculapius, see the opening Scene of the Curculio of Plautus.]
[Footnote 39: _An intermitting one_)--Ver. 357. “Quotidiana;”
literally, “daily.”]
[Footnote 40: _All of them change_)--Ver. 369. This must have been
imaginary, as they were not likely to be acquainted with the
reason of Philumena’s apprehensions.]
[Footnote 41: _Since she came to you_)--Ver. 394. There is great
doubt what is the exact meaning of “postquam ad te venit,” here,--
whether it means, “it is now the seventh month since she became
your wife,” or, “it is now the seventh month since she came to
your embraces,” which did not happen for two months after the
marriage. The former is, under the circumstances, the most
probable construction.]
[Footnote 42: _Committed upon her_)--Ver. 401. Colman very justly
observes here: “it is rather extraordinary that Myrrhina’s account
of the injury done to her daughter should not put Pamphilus in
mind of his own adventure, which comes out in the Fifth Act. It is
certain that had the Poet let the Audience into that secret in
this place, they would have immediately concluded that the wife of
Pamphilus and the lady whom he had ravished were one and the same
person.” Playwrights have never, in any age or country, troubled
themselves much about probability in their plots. Besides, his
adventure with Philumena was by no means an uncommon one. We find
similar instances mentioned by Plautus; and violence and
debauchery seem almost to have reigned paramount in the streets at
night.]
[Footnote 43: _Thirty days or more_)--Ver. 421. In his voyage from
Imbros to Athens, namely, which certainly appears to have been
unusually long.]
[Footnote 44: _To the citadel_)--Ver. 431. This was the fort or
citadel that defended the Piræus, and being three miles distant
from the city, was better suited for the design of Pamphilus,
whose object it was to keep Parmeno for some time at a distance.]
[Footnote 45: _He would rupture me_)--Ver. 435. He facetiously
pretends to think that Pamphilus may, during a storm at sea, have
vowed to walk him to death, if he should return home.]
[Footnote 46: _Regardful of a parent_)--Ver. 448. Colman observes
here: “This reflection seems to be rather improper in this place,
for the discovery of Philumena’s labor betrayed to Pamphilus the
real motive of her departure; after which discovery his anxiety
proceeds entirely from the supposed injury offered him, and his
filial piety is from that period made use of merely as a
pretense.”]
[Footnote 47: _He lived well_)--Ver. 461. This is living well in
the sense used by the “Friar of orders gray.” “Who leads a good
life is sure to live well.”]
[Footnote 48: _Brought home nothing more_)--Ver. 462. Colman
remarks that this passage is taken notice of by Donatus as a
particularly happy stroke of character; and indeed the idea of a
covetous old man gaping for a fat legacy, and having his mouth
stopped by a moral precept, is truly comic.]
[Footnote 49: _Pay back her portion_)--Ver. 502. As was
universally done on a separation by agreement.]
[Footnote 50: _At the right time_)--Ver. 531. Lemaire observes
that, from this passage, it would appear that the Greeks
considered seven months sufficient for gestation. So it would
appear, if we are to take the time of the Play to be seven, and
not nine, months after the marriage; and, as before observed, the
former seems to be the more reasonable conclusion.]
[Footnote 51: _A ring which_)--Ver. 574. Colman remarks that this
preparation for the catastrophe by the mention of the ring, is not
so artful as might have been expected from Terence; as in this
soliloquy he tells the circumstances directly to the Audience.]
[Footnote 52: _And festive days_)--Ver. 592. “Festos dies.” The
days for sacrificing to particular Divinities, when she would have
the opportunity of meeting her friends, and making herself merry
with them.]
[Footnote 53: _Look forward with impatience to my death_)--Ver.
596. Colman says: “This idea of the long life of a step-mother
being odious to her family, is applied in a very beautiful and
uncommon manner by Shakspeare:--
“Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
Draws on apace; for happy days bring in
Another morn; but oh, methinks how slow
This old morn wanes! she lingers my desires
Like to a step-dame, or a dowager,
Long withering out a young man’s revenue.”
_Midsummer Night’s Dream._]
[Footnote 54: _The old man and the old woman_)--Ver. 621. “Senex
atque anus.” In these words he probably refers to the commencement
of many of the stories current in those times, which began: “There
were once upon a time an old man and an old woman.” Indeed, almost
the same words occur in the Stichus of Plautus, l. 540, at the
commencement of a story: “Fuit olim, quasi ego sum, senex,” “There
was upon a time an old man, just like me.”]
[Footnote 55: _Still take the child_)--Ver. 638. In cases of
separation it was customary for the father to have the care of the
male children.]
[Footnote 56: _But should you like_)--Ver. 725. Donatus observes
that Phidippus utters these words with an air of disinclination to
be present at the conference; and, indeed, the characters are well
sustained, as it would not become him coolly to discourse with a
courtesan, whom he supposes to have alienated Pamphilus from his
daughter, although he might very properly advise it, as being
likely to conduce to the peace of both families.]
[Footnote 57: _Kept Pamphilus at a distance_)--Ver. 752. Colman
observes, how are we to reconcile this with the words of Parmeno
at the beginning of the Play, where he says that Pamphilus visited
Bacchis daily; and he inquires whether we are to suppose that
Bacchis, who behaves so candidly in every other instance, wantonly
perjures herself in this, or that the Poet, by a strange
infatuation attending him in this Play, contradicts himself? To
this it may be answered, that as Bacchis appears to be so
scrupulous in other instances, it is credible that,
notwithstanding his visits, she may not have allowed him to share
her embraces.]
[Footnote 58: _Other courtesans avoid doing_)--Ver. 777. Colman
has the following quotation from Donatus: “Terence, by his
uncommon art, has attempted many innovations with great success.
In this Comedy, he introduces, contrary to received prejudices,
a good step-mother and an honest courtesan; but at the same time
he so carefully assigns their motives of action, that by him alone
every thing seems reconcilable to truth and nature; for this is
just the opposite of what he mentions in another place, as the
common privilege of all Poets, ‘to paint good matrons and wicked
courtesans.’” Perhaps the same good feeling prompted Terence, in
showing that a mother-in-law and a courtesan could be capable of
acting with good and disinterested feelings, which caused
Cumberland to write his Play of “The Jew,” to combat the popular
prejudice against that persecuted class, by showing, in the
character of Sheva, that a Jew might possibly be a virtuous man.]
[Footnote 59: _Have been unjustly suspected_)--Ver. 778. The words
here employed are also capable of meaning, if an active sense is
given to “suspectas,” “our wives have entertained wrong
suspicions;” but the sense above given seems preferable, as being
the meaning of the passage.]
[Footnote 60: _Run with all speed_)--Ver. 809. Donatus remarks,
that Parmeno is drawn as being of a lazy and inquisitive
character; and that Terence, therefore, humorously contrives to
keep him always on the move, and in total ignorance of what is
going on.]
[Footnote 61: _Surcharged with wine_)--Ver. 824. Cooke has this
remark here: “I suppose that this is the best excuse the Poet
could make for the young gentleman’s being guilty of felony and
rape at the same time. In this speech, the incident is related on
which the catastrophe of the Play turns, which incident is a very
barbarous one, and attended with more than one absurdity, though
it is the occasion of an agreeable discovery.”]
[Footnote 62: _In the Comedies_)--Ver. 867.-- Madame Dacier
observes on this passage: “Terence here, with reason, endeavors to
make the most of a circumstance peculiar to his Play. In other
Comedies, every body, Actors as well as Spectators, are at last
equally acquainted with the whole intrigue and catastrophe, and it
would even be a defect in the plot were there any obscurity
remaining. But Terence, like a true genius, makes himself superior
to rules, and adds new beauties to his piece by forsaking them.
His reasons for concealing from part of the personages of the
Drama the principal incident of the plot, are so plausible and
natural, that he could not have followed the beaten track without
offending against manners and decency. This bold and uncommon turn
is one of the chief graces of the Play.”]
[Footnote 63: _From the shades below_)--Ver. 876. Parmeno says
this, while pondering upon the meaning of all that is going on,
and thereby expresses his impatience to become acquainted with it.
He therefore repeats what Pamphilus has before said in the twelfth
line of the present Act, about his having been restored from death
to life by his agency.]
[Footnote 64: _Your applause_)--Ver. 881. We may here remark, that
the Hecyra is the only one of the Plays of Terence with a single
plot.]
* * * * *
* * * *
PHORMIO; OR, THE SCHEMING PARASITE
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
DEMIPHO,[1] } Aged Athenians, brothers.
CHREMES,[2] }
ANTIPHO,[3] son of Demipho.
PHÆDRIA,[4] son of Chremes.
PHORMIO,[5] a Parasite.
GETA,[6] servant of Demipho.
DAVUS,[7] a servant.
HEGIO,[8] }
CRATINUS,[9] } Advocates.
CRITO,[10] }
DORIO,[11] a Procurer.
NAUSISTRATA,[12] the wife of Chremes.
SOPHRONA,[13] the nurse of Phanium.
_Scene._--Athens; before the houses of DEMIPHO, CHREMES, and DORIO.
THE SUBJECT.
CHREMES and DEMIPHO are two aged Athenians, brothers. Nausistrata, the
wife of Chremes, is a wealthy woman, possessed of large estates in the
island of Lemnos. Chremes, who goes thither yearly to receive the
rents, meets with a poor woman there, whom he secretly marries, and
has by her a daughter called Phanium: while engaged in this intrigue,
Chremes passes at Lemnos by the name of Stilpho. By his wife,
Nausistrata, at Athens, Chremes has a son, named Phædria, and his
brother has a son, named Antipho. Phanium having now arrived at her
fifteenth year, the two brothers privately agree that she shall be
brought to Athens and married to Antipho. For this purpose, Chremes
goes to Lemnos, while Demipho is obliged to take a journey to Cilicia.
On departing, they leave their sons in the care of Geta, one of
Demipho’s servants. Shortly afterward, Phædria falls in love with a
Music-girl, but, from want of means, is unable to purchase her from
her owner. In the mean time, the Lemnian wife of Chremes, urged by
poverty, embarks for Athens, whither she arrives with her daughter and
her nurse. Here they inquire for Stilpho, but in vain, as they can not
find any one of that name. Shortly after, the mother dies, and
Antipho, seeing Phanium by accident, falls in love with her. Being
wishful to marry her, he applies to Phormio, a Parasite, for his
advice. The latter hits upon the following scheme: there being a law
at Athens, which obliges the next-of-kin to female orphans, either to
marry them or give them a portion, the Parasite pretends that he is a
friend of Phanium, and insists that Antipho is her nearest relation,
and is consequently bound to marry her. Antipho is summoned before a
court of justice, and it being previously arranged, allows judgment to
be given against himself, and immediately marries Phanium. Shortly
after, the old men return upon the same day, and are much vexed, the
one on finding that his son has married a woman without a fortune, the
other that he has lost the opportunity of getting his daughter
advantageously married. In the mean time, Phædria being necessitated
to raise some money to purchase the Music-girl, Geta and Phormio
arrange that the former shall pretend to the old man that Phormio has
consented to take back the woman whom Antipho has married, if Demipho
will give her a portion of thirty minae. Demipho borrows the money of
Chremes, and pays it to Phormio, who hands it over to Phædria, and
Phædria to Dorio, for his mistress. At this conjuncture, it becomes
known who Phanium really is, and the old men are delighted to find
that Antipho has married the very person they wished. They attempt,
however, to get back the thirty minae from Phormio, and proceed to
threats and violence. On this, Phormio, who has accidentally learned
the intrigue of Chremes with the woman of Lemnos, exposes him, and
relates the whole story to his wife, Nausistrata; on which she
censures her husband for his bad conduct, and the Play concludes with
her thanks to Phormio for his information.
THE TITLE OF THE PLAY.
Performed at the Roman Games,[14] L. Posthumius Albinus and
L. Cornelius Merula being Curule Ædiles. L. mbivius Turpio and
L. Atilius Prænestinus performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of
Claudius, composed the music to a base and a treble flute. It is
wholly from the Greek, {being} the Epidicazomenos of Apollodorus. It
was represented four times,[15] C. Fannius and M. Valerius being
Consuls.[16]
PHORMIO; OR, THE SCHEMING PARASITE.
THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.
Demipho, the brother of Chremes, has gone abroad, his son Antipho
being left at Athens. Chremes has secretly a wife and a daughter at
Lemnos, another wife at Athens, and an only son, who loves a
Music-girl. The mother arrives at Athens from Lemnos, {and there}
dies. The girl, her orphan daughter, (Chemes being away,) arranges the
funeral. After Antipho has fallen in love with her when seen there,
through the aid of the Parasite he receives her as his wife. His
father and Chremes, having {now} returned, {begin} to be enraged.
Afterward they give thirty minæ to the Parasite, that he may take her
{as his own} wife. With this money the Music-girl is bought {for
Phædria}. Antipho {then} keeps his wife, who has been recognized by
his uncle.
THE PROLOGUE.
Since the old Poet[17] can not withdraw {our} bard from his pursuits
and reduce him to indolence, he endeavors, by invectives, to deter him
from writing: for he is wont to say to this effect,-- that the Plays
which he has hitherto composed are poor in their language, and of
meagre style: because he has nowhere described a frantic youth as
seeing a hind in flight, and the hounds pursuing; while he
implores[18] {and} entreated that he would give her aid. But if he had
been aware that {his Play}, when formerly first represented, stood its
ground more through the merits of the performers than its own, he
would attack with much less boldness than he does. Now, if there is
any one who says or thinks to this effect, that if the old Poet had
not assailed him first, the young one could have devised no Prologue
for him to repeat, without having some one to abuse, let him receive
this for an answer: “that the prize is proposed in common to all who
apply to the Dramatic art.” He has aimed at driving our Poet from his
studies to {absolute} want; he {then} has intended this for an answer,
not an attack. If he had opposed him with fair words, he would have
heard himself civilly addressed; what has been given by him, let him
consider as {now} returned. I will make an end of speaking about him,
when, of his own accord, he himself makes an end of offending. Now
give your attention to what I request. I present you a new play, which
they call “Epidicazomenos,”[19] in Greek: in the Latin, he calls it
“Phormio;” because the person that acts the principal part is Phormio,
a Parasite, through whom, principally, the plot will be carried on, if
your favor attends the Poet. Lend your attention; in silence give an
ear with impartial feelings, that we may not experience a like fortune
to what we did, when, through a tumult, our Company was driven from
the place;[20] which place, the merit of the actor, and your good-will
and candor seconding it, has {since} restored unto us.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.
_Enter DAVUS,[21] with a bag of money in his hand._
DAV. Geta, my very good friend and fellow-townsman, came to me
yesterday. There had been for some time a trifling balance of money of
his in my hands upon a small account; {he asked me} to make it up.
I have done so, {and} am carrying it to him. But I hear that his
master’s son has taken a wife; this, I suppose, is scraped together as
a present for her. How unfair a custom! --that those who have the
least should always be giving something to the more wealthy! That
which the poor wretch has with difficulty spared, ounce by ounce, out
of his allowance,[22] defrauding himself of every indulgence, the
whole of it will she carry off, without thinking with how much labor
it has been acquired. And then besides, Geta will be struck[23] for
another present[24] when his mistress is brought to bed; and then
again for another {present}, when the child’s birthday comes; when
they initiate him,[25] too: all this the mother will carry off; the
child will {only} be the pretext for the present. But don’t I see Geta
there?
SCENE II.
_Enter GETA, from the house of DEMIPHO._
GETA (_at the door, to those within._) If any red-haired man should
inquire for me--
DAV. (_stepping forward._) Here he is, say no more.
GETA (_starting._) Oh! Why I was trying {to come} and meet you, Davus.
DAV. (_giving the money to GETA._) Here, take it; it’s {all} ready
counted out;[26] the number just amounts to the sum I owed you.
GETA. I am obliged to you; and I return you thanks for not having
forgotten me.
DAV. Especially as people’s ways are nowadays; things are come to such
a pass, if a person repays you any thing, you must be greatly obliged
to him. But why are you out of spirits?
GETA. What, I? You little know what terror and peril I am in.
DAV. What’s the matter?
GETA. You shall know, if you can only keep it secret.
DAV. Out upon you, simpleton; {the man}, whose trustworthiness you
have experienced as to money, are you afraid to intrust with words? In
what way have I any interest in deceiving you?
GETA. Well then, listen.
DAV. I give you my best attention.
GETA. Davus, do you know Chremes, the elder brother of our old
gentleman?
DAV. Why should I not?
GETA. Well, {and} his son Phædria?
DAV. As well as your own self.
GETA. It {so} happened to both the old gentlemen, just at the same
period, that the one had to take a journey to Lemnos, and our {old
man} to Cilicia, to see an old acquaintance; he tempted over the old
man by letters, promising {him} all but mountains of gold.
DAV. To one who had so much property, that he had more than he could
use?
GETA. Do have done; that is his way.
DAV. Oh, {as for that}, I {really} ought to have been a man of
fortune.
GETA. When departing hence, both the old gentlemen left me as a sort
of tutor to their sons.
DAV. Ah, Geta, you undertook a hard task {there}.
GETA. I came to experience it, I know that. I’m quite sure that I was
forsaken by my good Genius, who must have been angry with me.[27]
I began to oppose them at first; {but} what need of talking? As long
as I was trusty to the old men, I was paid for it in my
shoulder-blades. This, then, occurred to my mind: why, this is folly
to kick against the spur.[28] I began to do every thing for them that
they wished to be humored in.
DAV. You knew how to make your market.[29]
GETA. Our {young fellow did} no mischief whatever at first; that
Phædria at once picked up a certain damsel, a Music-girl, {and} fell
in love with her to distraction. She belonged to a most abominable
Procurer; and their fathers had taken good care that they should have
nothing to give him. There remained nothing for him then but to feed
his eyes, to follow her about, to escort her to the school,[30] and to
escort her back again. We, having nothing to do, lent our aid to
Phædria. Near the school at which she was taught, right opposite the
place, there was a certain barber’s shop: here we were generally in
the habit of waiting for her, until she was coming home again. In the
mean time, while {one day} we were sitting there, there came in a
young man in tears;[31] we were surprised at this. We inquired what
was the matter? “Never,” said he, “has poverty appeared to me a burden
so grievous and so insupportable as just now. I have just seen a
certain poor young woman in this neighborhood lamenting her dead
mother. She was laid out before her, and not a single friend,
acquaintance, or relation was there with her, except one poor old
woman, to assist her in the funeral: I pitied her. The girl herself
was of surpassing beauty.” What need of a long story? She moved us
all. At once Antipho {exclaims}, “Would you like us to go and visit
her?” The other {said}, “I think we ought-- let us go-- show us the
way, please.” We went, and arrived {there}; we saw her; the girl was
beautiful, and that you might say so the more, there was no
heightening to her beauty; her hair disheveled, her feet bare, herself
neglected, and in tears; her dress mean, so that, had there not been
an excess of beauty in her very charms, these circumstances must have
extinguished those charms. The one who had lately fallen in love with
the Music-girl said: “She is well enough;” but our {youth}--
DAV. I know it already-- fell in love with her.
GETA. Can you imagine to what an extent? Observe the consequence. The
day after, he goes straight to the old woman; entreats her to let him
have her: she, on the other hand, refuses him, and says that he is not
acting properly; that she is a citizen of Athens, virtuous, and born
of honest {parents}: that if he wishes to make her his wife, he is at
liberty to do so according to law; but if otherwise, she gives him a
refusal. Our {youth} was at a loss what to do. He was both eager to
marry her, and he dreaded his absent father.
DAV. Would not his father, if he had returned, have given him leave?
GETA. He let him marry a girl with no fortune, and of obscure birth!
He would never do {so}.
DAV. What came of it at last?
GETA. What came of it? There is one Phormio here, a Parasite, a fellow
of great assurance; may all the Gods confound him!
DAV. What has he done?
GETA. He has given this piece of advice, which I will tell you of.
“There is a law, that orphan girls are to marry those who are their
next-of-kin; and the same law commands such persons to marry them.
I’ll say you are the next-of-kin, and take out a summons[32] against
you; I’ll pretend that I am a friend of the girl’s father; we will
come before the judges: who her father was, who her mother, how she is
related to you-- all this I’ll trump up, just as will be advantageous
and suited to my purpose; on your disproving none of these things,
I shall prevail, of course. Your father will return; a quarrel will be
the consequence; what care I? She will still be ours.”
DAV. An amusing piece of assurance!
GETA. He was persuaded to this. It was carried out; they came {into
court}: we were beaten. He has married her.
DAV. What is it you tell me?
GETA. Just what you have heard.
DAV. O Geta, what will become of you?
GETA. Upon my faith, I don’t know; this one thing I do know, whatever
fortune may bring, I’ll bear it with firmness.
DAV. You please me; well, that is the duty of a man.
GETA. All my hope is in myself.
DAV. I commend you.
GETA. Suppose I have recourse to some one to intercede for me, who
will plead for me in these terms: “Pray, do forgive him this time; but
if after this {he does} any thing, I make no entreaty:” if only he
doesn’t add, “When I’ve gone, e’en kill him {for my part}.”
DAV. What of the one who was usher to the Music-girl?[33]
GETA (_shrugging his shoulders._) So so, but poorly.
DAV. Perhaps he hasn’t much to give.
GETA. Why, really, nothing at all, except mere hopes.
DAV. Is his father come back or not?
GETA. Not yet.
DAV. Well, when do you expect your old man?
GETA. I don’t know for certain; but I just now heard that a letter has
been brought from him, and has been left with the officers of the
customs: I’m going to fetch it.
DAV. Is there any thing else that you want with me, Geta?
GETA. {Nothing; but} that I wish you well. (_Exit DAVUS._) Hark you,
boy (_calling at the door_). Is nobody coming out here? (_A LAD comes
out._) Take this, and give it to Dorcium. (_He gives the purse to the
LAD, who carries it into DEMIPHO’S house and exit GETA._)
SCENE III.
_Enter ANTIPHO and PHÆDRIA._
ANT. That things should have come to such a pass, Phædria, that I
should be in utter dread of my father, who wishes me so well, whenever
his return comes into my thoughts! Had I not been inconsiderate,
I might have waited for him, as I ought to have done.
PHÆD. What’s the matter?
ANT. Do you ask the question? You, who have been my confederate in so
bold an adventure? How I do wish it had never entered the mind of
Phormio to persuade me to this, or to urge me in the heat of my
passion to this step, which is the source of my misfortunes. {Then} I
should not have obtained her; in that case I might have been uneasy
for some {few} days; but still, this perpetual anxiety would not have
been tormenting my mind (_touching PHÆDRIA_).
PHÆD. I hear you.
ANT. While I am every moment expecting his return, who is to sever
from me this connection.[34]
PHÆD. Other men feel uneasiness because they can not gain what they
love; you complain because you have too much. You are surfeited with
love, Antipho. Why, really, upon my faith, this situation of yours is
surely one to be coveted and desired. So may the Gods kindly bless me,
could I be at liberty to be so long in possession of the object of my
love, I could contentedly die. Do you, then, form a judgment as to the
rest, what I am now suffering from this privation, and what pleasure
you enjoy from the possession of your desires; not to mention how,
without {any} expense, you have obtained a well-born and genteel
woman, and have got a wife of unblemished reputation: happy {you},
were not this one thing wanting, a mind capable of bearing all this
with moderation. If you had to deal with that Procurer with whom I
have to deal, then you would {soon} be sensible of it. We are mostly
all of us inclined by nature to be dissatisfied with our lot.
ANT. Still, on the other hand, Phædria, you now seem to me the
fortunate man, who still have the liberty, without restraint, of
resolving on what pleases you best: {whether} to keep, to love on,
{or} to give her up. I, unfortunately, have got myself into that
position, that I have neither right[35] to give her up, nor liberty to
retain her. But how’s this? Is it our Geta I see running this way?
’Tis he himself. Alas! I’m dreadfully afraid what news it is he’s now
bringing me.
SCENE IV.
_Enter GETA, running, at the other side of the stage._
GETA (_to himself._) Geta, you are undone, unless you instantly find
out some expedient; so suddenly do such mighty evils now threaten me
thus unprepared, which I neither know how to shun, nor how to
extricate myself therefrom; for this daring step of ours can not now
any longer be kept a secret. If such a result is not adroitly guarded
against, these matters will cause the ruin of myself, or of my master.
ANT. (_to PHÆDRIA._) Why, I wonder, is he coming in such fright?
GETA (_to himself._) Besides, I’ve but a moment left for this matter--
my master’s close at hand.
ANT. (_to PHÆDRIA._) What mischief is this?
GETA (_to himself._) When he comes to hear of it, what remedy shall I
discover for his anger? Am I to speak? I shall irritate him: be
silent? I shall provoke him: excuse myself? I should be washing a
brickbat.[36] Alas! unfortunate me! While I am trembling for myself,
this Antipho distracts my mind. I am concerned for him; I’m in dread
for him: ’tis he that now keeps me here; for had it not been for him,
I should have made due provision for my safety, and have taken
vengeance on the old man for his crabbedness; I should have scraped up
something, and straightway taken to my heels away from here.
ANT. (_to PHÆDRIA._) I wonder what running away or theft it is that
he’s planning.
GETA (_to himself._) But where shall I find Antipho, or which way go
look for him?
PHÆD. (_to ANTIPHO._) He’s mentioning your name.
ANT. (_to PHÆDRIA._) I know not what great misfortune I expect to hear
from this messenger.
PHÆD. (_to ANTIPHO._) Why, are you in your senses?
GETA (_to himself._) I’ll make my way homeward; he’s generally there.
PHÆD. (_to ANTIPHO._) Let’s call the fellow back.
ANT. (_calling out._) Stop, this instant.
GETA (_turning round._) Heyday-- with authority enough, whoever you
are.
ANT. Geta!
GETA. The very person I wanted to find.
ANT. Pray, tell me what news you bring and dispatch it in {one} word,
if you can.
GETA. I’ll do {so}.
ANT. Out with it.
GETA. Just now, at the harbor--
ANT. What, my {father}--?
GETA. You’ve hit it.
ANT. Ruined outright!
PHÆD. Pshaw!
ANT. What am I to do?
PHÆD. (_to GETA._) What is it you say?
GETA. That I have seen his father, your uncle.
ANT. How am I, wretch that I am, now to find a remedy for this sudden
misfortune? But if it should be my fortune, Phanium, to be torn away
from you, life would cease to be desirable.
GETA. Therefore, Antipho, since matters are thus, the more need have
you to be on your guard; fortune helps the brave.
ANT. I am not myself.
GETA. But just now it is especially necessary you should be so,
Antipho; for if your father perceives that you are alarmed, he will
think that you have been guilty of some fault.
PHÆD. That’s true.
ANT. I can not change.
GETA. What would you do, if now something else still more difficult
had to be done by you?
ANT. As I am not equal to this, I should be still less so to the
other.
GETA. This is doing nothing at all, Phædria, let’s be gone; why do we
waste our time here to no purpose. I shall be off.
PHÆD. And I too. (_They move as if going._)
ANT. Pray, now, if I assume an air, will that do? (_He endeavors to
assume another air._)
GETA. You are trifling.
ANT. Look at my countenance-- there’s for you. (_Assuming a different
air._) Will that do?
GETA. No.
ANT. Well, will this? (_Assuming another air._)
GETA. Pretty well.
ANT. Well then, this? (_Assuming a still bolder air._)
GETA. That’s just the thing. There now, keep to that, and answer him
word for word, like for like; don’t let him, in his anger, disconcert
you with his blustering words.
ANT. I understand.
GETA. {Say} that you were forced against your will by law, by sentence
of the court; do you take me? (_Looking earnestly in one direction._)
But who is the old man that I see at the end of the street?
ANT. ’Tis he himself. I can not stand it. (_Going._)
GETA. Oh! What are you about? Whither are you going, Antipho? Stop,
I tell you.
ANT. I know my own self and my offense; to your management I trust
Phanium and my own existence. (_Exit hastily._
SCENE V.
_PHÆDRIA and GETA._
PHÆD. Geta, what’s to be done now?
GETA. You will just hear some harsh language: I shall be trussed up
and trounced, if I am not somewhat mistaken. But what we were just now
advising Antipho to do, the same we must do ourselves, Phædria.
PHÆD. Away with your “musts;” rather do you command me what I am to
do.
GETA. Do you remember what were your words formerly on our entering
upon this project, with the view of protecting yourselves from ill
consequences-- that their cause was just, clear, unanswerable, {and}
most righteous?
PHÆD. I remember it.
GETA. Well then, now there’s need of that {plea}, or of one still
better and more plausible, if such there can be.
PHÆD. I’ll use my best endeavors.
GETA. Do you then accost him first; I’ll be here in reserve,[37] by
way of reinforcement, if you give ground at all.
PHÆD. Very well. (_They retire to a distance._)
SCENE VI.
_Enter DEMIPHO, at the other side of the stage._
DEM. (_to himself._) And is it possible that Antipho has taken a wife
without my consent? and that no authority of mine-- but let alone
“authority”[38]-- no displeasure of mine, at all events, has he been
in dread of? To have no sense of shame! O audacious conduct! O Geta,
{rare} adviser!
GETA (_apart to PHÆDRIA._) Just {brought in} at last.
DEM. What will they say to me, or what excuse will they find? I wonder
much.
GETA (_apart._) Why, I’ve found that out already; do think of
something else.
DEM. Will he be saying this to me: “I did it against my will; the law
compelled me?” I hear {you, and} admit it.
GETA (_apart._) Well said!
DEM. But knowingly, in silence, to give up the cause to his
adversaries-- did the law oblige him to do that as well?
GETA (_apart._) That is a hard {blow}.
PHÆD. I’ll clear that up; let me alone {for that}.
DEM. It is a matter of doubt what I am to do; for beyond expectation,
and quite past all belief, has this befallen me. So enraged am I, that
I can not compose my mind to think {upon it}. Wherefore it is the duty
of all persons, when affairs are the most prosperous,[39] then in
especial to reflect within themselves in what way they are to endure
adversity. Returning from abroad, let him always picture to himself
dangers and losses, either offenses committed by a son, or the death
of his wife, or the sickness of a daughter,-- that these things are
the common lot, so that no one of them may ever come as a surprise
upon his feelings. Whatever falls out beyond his hopes, all that he
must look upon as so much gain.
GETA (_apart._) O Phædria, it is incredible how much I surpass my
master in wisdom. All my misfortunes have been {already} calculated
upon by me, upon my master coming home. I must grind at the mill, be
beaten, wear fetters, be set to work in the fields; not one individual
thing of these will happen unexpected by my mind. Whatever falls out
beyond my expectations, all that I shall look upon as so much gain.
But why do you hesitate to accost him, and soften him at the outset
with fair words? (_PHÆDRIA goes forward to accost DEMIPHO._)
DEM. (_to himself._) I see Phædria, my brother’s son, coming toward
me.
PHÆD. My uncle, welcome!
DEM. Greetings to you; but where is Antipho?
PHÆD. That you have arrived in safety----
DEM. I believe it; answer my question.
PHÆD. He is well; he’s close at hand; but is every thing quite to your
wishes?
DEM. I wish it was so, indeed.
PHÆD. What’s the matter?
DEM. Do you ask me, Phædria? You {people} have cooked up a fine
marriage in my absence.
PHÆD. What now, are you angry with him for that?
GETA (_apart._) What a clever contriver!
DEM. Have I not reason to be angry with him? I long for him to come
into my sight, that he may know that through his faultiness, from
being a mild father, I am become a most severe one.
PHÆD. But he has done nothing, uncle, for which you should blame him.
DEM. Now, do look at that; all alike; all hanging together; when you
know one, you know all.
PHÆD. That is not the case.
DEM. When the one is in fault, the other is at hand to defend him;
when it is the other, {then} he is ready; they {just} help one another
by turns.
GETA (_apart._) The old man, without knowing it, has exactly described
their proceedings.
DEM. For if it had not been so, you would not, Phædria, have stood up
for him.
PHÆD. If, uncle, it is {the fact}, that Antipho has been guilty of any
fault, in consequence of which he has been too regardless of his
interest or his reputation, I would not allege any reason why he
should not suffer what he deserves. But if some one by chance, relying
upon his own artfulness, has laid a snare for our youthful age, and
has succeeded, is it our fault or {that} of the judges, who often,
through envy, take away from the rich, or, through compassion, award
to the poor?
GETA (_apart._) Unless I knew the case, I could fancy he was saying
the truth.
DEM. Is there any judge who can possibly know your rights, when you
yourself don’t answer a word-- as he has done?
PHÆD. He acted the part of an ingenuous young man; after they had come
before the judges, he was not able to say what he had intended, so
much did his modesty confuse him there through his bashfulness.
GETA (_apart._) I commend him: but why do I hesitate at once to accost
the old man? (_Going forward to DEMIPHO._) Master, welcome to you! I’m
glad to see you safe returned.
DEM. (_ironically._) Ah, excellent guardian! save you, stay of my
family, no doubt, to whom, at my departure, I intrusted my son.
GETA. For some minutes past I’ve heard you accusing all of us
undeservedly; and me the most undeservedly of them all; for what would
you have had me do for you in this affair? The laws do not allow a
person who is a slave to plead; nor is there any giving evidence[40]
{on his part}.
DEM. I grant all that: I admit this too-- the young man, unused to
courts, was bashful; I allow it: you, {too, are} a slave: still, if
she was ever so near a relative, it was not necessary {for him} to
marry her, but as the law enjoins, you might have given her a
portion;[41] she could have looked out for another husband. Why, then,
in preference, did he bring a pauper home?
GETA. No {particular} reason; but he hadn’t the money.
DEM. He might have borrowed it from some person or other.
GETA. From some person or other? Nothing more easily said.
DEM. After all, if on no other terms, on interest.
GETA. Aye, aye, fine talking; as if any one would have trusted him,
while you were living.[42]
DEM. No, it shall not be so; it must not be. Ought I to allow her to
remain with him as his wife a single day? She merits no indulgence.
I should like this fellow to be pointed out to me, or to be shown
where he lives.
GETA. Phormio, do you mean?
DEM. That fellow, the woman’s next friend?[43]
GETA. I’ll have him here immediately.
DEM. Where is Antipho at present?
GETA. Away from home.
DEM. Go, Phædria, look for him, and bring him here.
PHÆD. I’ll go straightway to the place.
GETA (_aside._) To Pamphila, you mean.
(_Exeunt PHÆDRIA and GETA._
SCENE VII.
_DEMIPHO, alone._
DEM. (_to himself._) I’ll just step home to salute the household
Gods.[44] From there, I’ll go to the Forum, and summon some of my
friends to give me their assistance in this affair; so that I may not
be unprepared, when Phormio comes. (_Goes into his house._)
ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE I.
_Enter PHORMIO and GETA._
PHOR. And so you say[45] that, dreading his father’s presence, he has
taken himself off?
GETA. Exactly so.