HEG. He has been led off straight to prison [1], as he deserves. Let no
one presume to attempt such an enterprise. Had it not been for you who
discovered this to me, still would they have been leading me by the
bridle with their tricks. Now am I resolved henceforth never to trust
any person in anything. This once I have been deceived enough; I did
hope, to my sorrow, that I had rescued my son from slavery. That hope
has forsaken me. I lost one son, whom, a child in his fourth year, a
slave stole from me; and, indeed, never since have I found either slave
or son; the elder one has fallen in the hands of the enemy. What guilt
is this _of mine_? As though I had become the father of children for the
purpose of being childless. (_To_ ARISTOPHONTES.) Follow this way. I'll
conduct you back where you were. I'm determined to have pity upon no
one, since no one has pity upon me.
ARIST. Forth from my chains with evil omen did I come; now I perceive
that with like ill omen to my bonds I must return. (_Exeunt._
[Footnote 1: _To prison_)--Ver. 756. "Phylacam." This is a Greek word
Latinized, meaning "prison" or "confinement."]
ACT IV.--SCENE I.
_Enter_ ERGASILUS. [1]
ERG. Supreme Jove! thou dost preserve me, and dost augment my means.
Plenty, extreme and sumptuous, dost thou present to me; celebrity,
profit, enjoyment, mirth, festivity, holidays, sights, provisions,
carousings, abundance, joyousness. And to no man have I now determined
with myself to go a-begging; for I'm able either to profit my friend
or to destroy my enemy, to such extent has this delightful day heaped
delights upon me in its delightfulness. I have lighted upon a most rich
inheritance without incumbrances [2]. Now will I wend my way to this old
gentleman Hegio, to whom I am carrying blessings as great as he
himself prays for from the Gods, and even greater. Now, this is my
determination, in the same fashion that the slaves of Comedy [3] _are
wont_, so will I throw my cloak around my neck, that from me, the first
_of all_, he may learn this matter. And I trust that I, by reason of
this news, shall find provision up to the end.
[Footnote 1: _Ergasilus_) He has just come from the harbour, where he
has seen the son of Hegio, together with Philocrates and Stalagmus,
landing from the packet-boat. Now, as he speaks still of his intended
dinner with Hegio, to which he had been invited in the earlier part of
the Play, we must conclude, that since then, Philocrates has taken ship
from the coast of Aetolia, arrived in Elis, procured the liberation of
Philopolemus, and returned with him, all in the space of a few hours.
This, however, although the coast of Elis was only about fifteen miles
from that of Aetolia, is not at all consistent with probability; and
the author has been much censured by some Commentators, especially by
Lessing, on account of his negligence It must, however, be remembered,
that Plautus was writing for a Roman audience, the greater part of whom
did not know whether Elis was one mile or one hundred from the coast
of Aetolia. We may suppose, too, that Philopolemus had already caused
Stalagmus, the runaway slave, to be apprehended before the arrival of
Philocrates in Elis.]
[Footnote 2: _An inheritance without incumbrance_)--Ver. 780. "Sine
sacra hereditas." The meaning of this expression has been explained in
the Notes to the Trinummus, 484.]
[Footnote 3: _Slaves of Comedy_)--Ver. 783. This was done that, when
expedition was required, the cloak might not prove an obstruction to the
wearer as he walked. The slaves in Comedies usually wore the "pallium,"
and as they were mostly active, bustling fellows, would have it tucked
tightly around them. The "pallium" was usually worn passed over the left
shoulder, then drawn behind the back, and under the left arm, leaving it
bare, and then thrown again over the left shoulder.]
SCENE II.--_Enter_ HEGIO, _at a distance._
HEG. (_to himself_). The more that I revolve this matter in my breast,
the more is my uneasiness of mind increased. That I should have been
duped in this fashion to-day! and that I wasn't able to see through it!
When this shall be known, then I shall be laughed at all over the city.
The very moment that I shall have reached the Forum, all will be saying,
"This is that clever old gentleman, who had the trick played him." But
is this Ergasilus, that I see coming at a distance? Surely he has got
his cloak gathered up; what, I wonder, is he going to do?
ERG. (_advancing, and talking to himself_). Throw aside from you all
tardiness, Ergasilus, and speed on this business. I threaten, and I
strictly charge no person to stand in my way, unless any one shall be of
opinion that he has lived long enough. For whoever does come in my
way, shall stop me upon his face. (_He runs along, flourishing his arms
about._)
HEG. (_to himself_). This fellow's beginning to box.
ERG. (_to himself_). I'm determined to do it; so that every one may
pursue his own path, let no one be bringing any of his business in this
street; for my fist is a balista, my arm is my catapulta, my shoulder a
battering-ram; then against whomsoever I dart my knee, I shall bring him
to the ground. I'll make all persons to be picking up their teeth [1],
whomsoever I shall meet with.
HEG. (_to himself_). What threatening is this? For I cannot wonder
enough.
ERG. I'll make him always to remember this day and place, and myself _as
well_. Whoever stops me upon my road, I'll make him put a stop to his
own existence.
HEG. (_to himself_). What great thing is this fellow preparing to do,
with such mighty threats?
ERG. I first give notice, that no one, by reason of his own fault, may
be caught--keep yourselves in-doors at home, _and_ guard yourselves from
my attack.
HEG. (_to himself_). By my faith, 'tis strange if he hasn't got this
boldness by means of his stomach. Woe to that wretched man, through
whose cheer this fellow has become quite swaggering.
ERG. Then the bakers, that feed swine, that fatten their pigs upon
refuse bran, through the stench of which no one can pass by a baker's
shop; if I see the pig of any one of them in the public _way_, I'll beat
the bran out of the masters' themselves with my fists.
HEG. (_to himself_). Royal and imperial edicts does he give out. The
fellow is full; he certainly has his boldness from his stomach.
ERG. Then the fishmongers, who supply stinking fish to the public--who
are carried about on a gelding, with his galloping galling pace [2]--the
stench of whom drives all the loungers in the Basilica [3] into the
Forum, I'll bang their heads with their bulrush fish-baskets, that they
may understand what annoyance they cause to the noses of other people.
And then the butchers, as well, who render the sheep destitute of their
young--who agree with you about killing lamb [4], and then offer you
lamb at double the price--who give the name of wether _mutton_ to a
ram--if I should _only_ see that ram in the public way, I'll make both
ram and owner most miserable beings.
HEG. (_to himself_). Well done! He really does give out edicts fit for
an Aedile, and 'tis indeed a surprising thing if the Aetolians haven't
made him inspector of markets [5].
ERG. No Parasite now am I, but a right royal king of kings; so large a
stock of provision for my stomach is there at hand in the harbour. But
_why_ delay to overwhelm this old gentleman Hegio with gladness? With
him, not a person among mankind exists equally fortunate.
HEG. (_apart_). What joy is this, that he, _thus_ joyous, is going to
impart to me?
ERG. (_knocking at _HEGIO'S_ door_). Hallo, hallo!--where are you? Is
any one coming to open this door?
HEG. (_apart_). This fellow's betaking himself to my house to dine.
ERG. Open you both these doors [6], before I shall with knocking cause
the destruction, piecemeal, of the doors.
HEG. (_apart_). I'd like much to address the fellow. (_Aloud._)
Ergasilus!
ERG. Who's calling Ergasilus?
HEG. _Turn round, and_ look at me.
ERG. (_not seeing who it is_). A thing that Fortune does not do for you,
nor _ever_ will do, you bid me _to do_. But who is it.
HEG. Look round at me. 'Tis Hegio.
ERG. (_turning round_). O me! Best of the very best of men, as many as
exist, you have arrived opportunely.
HEG. You've met with some one at the harbour to dine with; through that
you are elevated.
ERG. Give me your hand. HEG. My hand?
ERG. Give me your hand, I say, this instant.
HEG. Take it. (_Giving him his hand._)
ERG. Rejoice. HEG. Why should I rejoice?
ERG. Because I bid you; come now, rejoice.
HEG. I' faith, my sorrows exceed my rejoicings.
ERG. 'Tis not so, _as_ you shall find; I'll at once drive away every
spot of sorrow [7] from your body. Rejoice without restraint.
HEG. I do rejoice, although I don't at all know why I should rejoice.
ERG. You do rightly; _now_ order--HEG. Order what?
ERG. A large fire to be made.
HEG. A large fire? ERG. So I say, that a huge one it must be.
HEG. What, you vulture, do you suppose that for your sake I'm going to
set my house on fire?
ERG. Don't be angry. Will you order, or will you not order, the pots
to be put on, _and_ the saucepans to be washed out, the bacon and the
dainties to be made warm in the heated cooking-stoves, another one,
_too_, to go purchase the fish?
HEG. This fellow's dreaming while awake.
ERG. Another to buy pork, and lamb, and pullets.
HEG. You understand how to feed well, if you had the means.
ERG. Gammons of bacon, _too_, and lampreys, spring pickled tunny-fish,
mackerel, and sting-ray; large fish, too, and soft cheese.
HEG. You will have more opportunity, Ergasilus, here at my house, of
talking about these things than of eating them.
ERG. Do you suppose that I'm saying this on my own account?
HEG. You will neither be eating nothing here to-day, nor yet much more
_than usual, so_ don't you be mistaken. Do you then bring an appetite to
my house for your every-day fare.
ERG. Why, I'll so manage it, that you yourself shall wish to be profuse,
though I myself should desire you not.
HEG. What, I? ERG. Yes, you.
HEG. Then you are my master. ERG. Yes, _and_ a kindly disposed one. Do
you wish me to make you happy?
HEG. Certainly I would, rather than miserable.
ERG. Give me your hand. HEG. (_extending his hand_) Here is my hand.
ERG. All the Gods are blessing you.
HEG. I don't feel it so. ERG. Why, you are not in a quickset hedge,[8]
therefore you don't feel it; but order the vessels, in a clean state, to
be got for you forthwith in readiness for the sacrifice, and one lamb to
be brought here with all haste, a fat one.
HEG. Why? ERG. That you may offer sacrifice.
HEG. To which one of the Gods?
ERG. To myself, i' faith, for now am I your supreme Jupiter. I likewise
am your salvation, your fortune, your life, your delight, your joy. Do
you at once, then, make this Divinity propitious to you by cramming him.
HEU. You seem to me to be hungry.
ERG. For myself am I hungry, _and_ not for you.
HEG. I readily allow of it at your own good will.
ERG. I believe you; from a boy you were in the habit--[9]
HEG. May Jupiter and the Gods confound you.
ERG. I' troth, 'tis fair that for my news you should return me thanks;
such great happiness do I now bring you from the harbour.
HEG. Now you are flattering me. Begone, you simpleton; you have arrived
behind time, too late.
ERG. If I had come sooner, then for that reason you might rather have
said that. Now, receive this joyous _news_ of me which I bring _you_;
for at the harbour I just now saw your son Philopolemus in the common
fly-boat, alive, safe and sound, and likewise there that other young man
together with him, and Stalagmus your slave, who fled from your house,
who stole from you your little son, the child of four years old.
HEG. Away with you to utter perdition! You are trifling with me
ERG. So may holy Gluttony [10] love me, Hegio, and so may she ever
dignify me with her name, I did see--
HEG. My son? ERG. Your son, and my _good_ Genius.
HEG. That Elean captive, too?
ERG. Yes, by Apollo. [11]
HEG. The slave, too? My _slave_ Stalagmus, he that stole my son--?
ERG. Yes, by Cora HEG. So long a time ago?
ERG. Yes, by Praeneste! HEG. Is he arrived?
ERG. Yes, by Signia! HEG. For sure?
ERG. Yes, by Phrysinone! HEG. Have a care, if you please.
ERG. Yes, by Alatrium! HEG. Why are you swearing by foreign cities?
ERG. Why, because they are just as disagreable as you were declaring
your fare to be.
HEG. Woe be to you! ERG. Because that you don't believe me at all in
what I say in sober earnestness. But of what country was Stalagmus, at
the time when he departed hence?
HEG. A Sicilian. ERG. But now he is not a Sicilian--he is a Boian; he
has got a Boian woman [12]. A wife, I suppose, has been given to him for
the sake of obtaining children.
HEG. Tell me, have you said these words to me in good earnest?
ERG. In good _earnest_. HEG. Immortal Gods, I seem to be born again, if
you are telling the truth.
ERG. Do you say so? Will you still entertain doubts, when I have
solemnly sworn to you? In fine, Hegio, if you have little confidence in
my oath, go yourself to the harbour and see.
HEG. I'm determined to do so. Do you arrange in-doors what's requisite.
Use, ask for, take _from my larder_ what you like; I appoint you
cellarman.
ERG. Now, by my troth, if I have not prophesied truly to you, do you
comb me out with a cudgel.
HEG. I'll find you in victuals to the end, if you are telling me the
truth.
ERG. Whence _shall_ it _be_? HEG. From myself and from my son.
ERG. Do you promise that? HEG. I do promise it.
ERG. But I, in return, promise [13] you that your son has arrived.
HEG. Manage as well as ever you can.
ERG. A happy walk _there_ to you, and _a happy_ walk back.
(_Exit_ HEGIO.
[Footnote 1: _To be picking up their teeth_)--Ver. 803. "Dentilegos." He
says that he will knock their teeth out, and so make them pick them up
from the ground. We must suppose that while he is thus hurrying on, he
is walking up one of the long streets which were represented as emerging
on the Roman stage, opposite to the audience.]
[Footnote 2: _Galling pace_)--Ver. 819. "Crucianti" may mean either
"tormenting" the spectator by reason of the slowness of its pace, or
galling to the rider. "Quadrupedanti crucianti cauterio" is a phrase,
both in sound and meaning, much resembling what our song-books call the
"galloping dreary dun."]
[Footnote 3: _In the Basilica_)--Ver. 820. The "Basilica" was a building
which served as a court of law, and a place of meeting for merchants
and men of business. The name was perhaps derived from the Greek word
_Basileus_, as the title of the second Athenian Archon, who had his
tribunal or court of justice. The building was probably, in its original
form, an insulated portico. The first edifice of this kind at Rome was
erected B.C. 184; probably about the period when this Play was composed.
It was situate in the Forum, and was built by Porcius Cato, from whom it
was called the "Porcian Basilica." Twenty others were afterwards erected
at different periods in the city. The loungers here mentioned, in the
present instance, were probably sauntering about under the porticos of
the Basilica, when their olfactory nerves were offended by the unsavoury
smell of the fishermen's baskets.]
[Footnote 4: _About killing lamb_)--Ver. 824. In these lines he seems
to accuse the butchers of three faults--cruelty, knavery, and extortion.
The general reading is "duplam," but Rost suggests "dupla," "at double
the price." If "duplam" is retained, might it not possibly mean that the
butchers agree to kill lamb for you, and bring to you "duplam agninam,"
"double lamb," or, in other words, lamb twice as old as it ought to be?
No doubt there was some particular age at which lamb, in the estimation
of Ergasilus and his brother-epicures, was considered to be in its
greatest perfection.]
[Footnote 5: _Inspector of markets_)--Ver. 829. "Agoranomum." The
Aediles were the inspectors of markets at Rome, while the "Agoranomi"
had a similar office in the Grecian cities.]
[Footnote 6: _Both these doors_)--Ver. 836. The street-doors of the
ancients were generally "bivalve," or "folding-doors."]
[Footnote 7: Every spot of sorrow )--Ver. 846. He alludes, figuratively,
to the art of the fuller or scourer, in taking the spots out of soiled
garments.]
[Footnote 8: _In a quickset hedge_)--Ver. 865. Here is a most wretched
attempt at wit, which cannot be expressed in a literal translation.
Hegio says, "Nihil sentio," "I don't feel it." Ergasilus plays upon
the resemblance of the verb "sentio" to "sentis" and "senticetum," a
"bramble-bush" or "quickset hedge;" and says, 'You don't feel it so,"
"non sentis," "because you are not in a quickset hedge,' "in senticeto."
]
[Footnote 9: _From a boy_)--Ver. 872. An indelicate allusion is covertly
intended in this line. ]
[Footnote 10: _So may holy Gluttony_--Ver. 882. The Parasite very
appropriately deifies Gluttony: as the Goddess of Bellyful would, of
course, merit his constant worship.]
[Footnote 11: _Yes, by Apollo_)--Ver. 885. In the exuberance of his joy
at his prospects of good eating, the Parasite gives this, and his next
five replies, in the Greek language; just as the diner-out, and the man
of bon-mots and repartee, might in our day couch his replies in French,
with the shrug of the shoulder and the becoming grimace. He first swears
by Apollo, and then by Cora, which may mean either a city of Campania so
called, or the Goddess Proserpine, who was called by the Greeks,
[Greek: Korae], "the maiden." He then swears by four places in
Campania--Praeneste, Signia, Phrysinone, and Alatrium. As the scene
is in Greece, Hegio asks him why he swears by these foreign places;
to which he gives answer merely because they are as disagreable as the
unsavoury dinner of vegetables which he had some time since promised
him. This is, probably, merely an excuse for obtruding a slighting
remark upon these places, which would meet with a ready response from a
Roman audience, as the Campanians had sided with Hannibal against Rome
in the second Punic war. They were probably miserable places on which
the more refined Romans looked with supreme contempt.]
[Footnote 12: _Got a Boian woman_)--Vet. 893. There is an indelicate
meaning in the expression "Buiam terere." The whole line is intended
as a play upon words. "Boia" means either "a collar," which was placed
round a prisoner's neck, or a female of the nation of the Boii in Gaul.
"Boiam terere" may mean either "to have the prisoner's collar on," or,
paraphrastically, "to be coupled with a Boian woman." Ergasilus having
seen Stalagmus in the packet-boat with this collar on, declares that
Stalagmus is a Sicilian no longer, for he has turned Boian, having a
Boian helpmate.]
[Footnote 13: _I, in return, promise_)--Ver. 904. Ergasilus says, "Do
you really promise me this fine entertainment?" To which, Hegio answers,
"Spondeo," "I do promise." On this, Ergasilus replies, "that your son
really has returned, I answer you," "respondeo," or, as he intends it to
be meant, "I promise you once again," or "in return for your promise."]
SCENE III.--ERGASILUS, _alone._
ERG. He has gone away from here, _and_ has entrusted to me the most
important concern of catering. Immortal Gods! how I shall now be slicing
necks off of sides; how vast a downfall will befall the gammon [1]; how
vast a belabouring the bacon! How great a using-up of udders, how vast
a bewailing for the brawn! How great a bestirring for the butchers, how
great a _preparation_ for the pork-sellers! But if I were to enumerate
the rest of the things which minister to the supply of the stomach,
'twould be _sheer_ delay. Now will I go off to my government, to give
laws to the bacon, and, those gammons that are hanging uncondemned, [2]
to give aid to them. (_Goes into the house._)
[Footnote 1: _Befall the gammon_)--Ver. 908. An alliteration is
employed in these two lines, which cannot be well kept up in a literal
translation. As, however, in the translation an attempt is made to
give the spirit of the passage, the literal meaning may be here stated.
"Pernis pestis," "a plague to the gammons;" "labes larido," "a fall
for the bacon;" "sumini absumedo," "a consumption of udder;" "callo
calamitas," "destruction to the brawn;" and "laniis lassitudo,"
"weariness to the butchers." Sows' udder, with the milk in it, first
dried, and then cooked in some peculiar manner, was considered a great
delicacy by the Roman epicures.]
[Footnote 2: _Hanging uncondemned_)--Ver. 913. He'll commute the
punishment of the gammons and hams, for they shall hang no longer.]
ACT V.--SCENE I.
_Enter a_ LAD, _a servant of_ HEGIO.
LAD. May Jupiter and the Deities confound you, Ergasilus, and your
stomach, and all Parasites, and _every one_ who henceforth shall give
a dinner to Parasites. Destruction and devastation _and_ ruin have just
now entered our house. I was afraid that he would be making an attack on
me, as though he had been an hungry wolf. And very dreadfully, upon my
faith, was I frightened at him; he made such a gnashing with his teeth.
On his arrival, the whole larder, with the meat, he turned upside down.
He seized a knife, and first cut off the kernels of the neck [1] from
three sides. All the pots and cups he broke, except those that held a
couple of gallons [2]; of the cook he made enquiry whether the salting
pans could _be set on the fire_ to be made hot. All the cellars in the
house he has broken into, and has laid the store-closet [3] open. (_At
the door._) Watch him, servants, if you please; I'll go to meet the old
gentleman. I'll tell him to get ready some provisions for his own self,
if, indeed, he wishes himself to make use of any. For in this place, as
this man, indeed, is managing, either there's nothing already, or very
soon there will be nothing. (_Exit._
[Footnote 1: _The kernels of the neck_)--Ver. 920. The "glandia" were
the kernels or tonsils of the throat, situate just below the root of the
tongue. These portions of the dead pig seem to have been much prized as
delicate eating. Judging from the present passage, the whole side of
the pig, including the half-head, was salted and dried in one piece: The
first thing that the Parasite does, is to cut the kernels from off of
three sides, which he has relieved from the punishment of hanging.]
[Footnote 2: _A couple of gallons_)--Ver. 921. "Modiales." Literally,
containing a "modius," which contained sixteen sextarii, something more
than a peck of dry-measure English.]
[Footnote 3: _The store-closet_)--Ver. 923. "Armarium" was to called
because it was originally a place for keeping arms. It afterwards came
to signify a cupboard in a wall, in which clothes, books, money, and
other articles of value, were placed. It was generally in the "atrium,"
or principal room of the house. In this instance it evidently means the
store-closet, distinguished from the larder and the]
SCENE II.--_Enter_ HEGIO, PHILOPOLEMUS, PHILOCRATES, _and behind them_,
STALAGMUS.
HEG. To Jove and to the Deities I return with reason hearty thanks,
inasmuch as they have restored you to your father, and inasmuch as they
have delivered me from very many afflictions, which, while I was obliged
to be here without you, I was enduring, and inasmuch as I see that that
_fellow_ (_pointing to_ STALAGMUS) is in my power, and inasmuch as his
word (_pointing to_ PHILOCRATES) has been found true to me.
PHILOP. Enough now have I grieved from my very soul, and enough with
care and tears have I disquieted myself. Enough now have I heard of your
woes, which at the harbour you told me of. Let us now to this business.
PHIL. What now, since I've kept my word with you, and have caused him to
be restored back again to freedom?
HEG. Philocrates, you have acted so that I can never return you thanks
enough, in the degree that you merit from myself and my son.
PHILOP. Nay, but you can, father, and you will be able, and I shall
be able; and the Divinities will give the means for you to return the
kindness he merits to one who deserves so highly of us; as, my father,
you are able to do to this person who so especially deserves it.
HEG. What need is there of words? I have no tongue with which to deny
whatever you may ask _of me_.
PHIL. I ask of you to restore to me that servant whom I left here as
a surety for myself; who has always proved more faithful to me than to
himself; in order that for his services I may be enabled to give him a
reward.
HEG. Because you have acted _thus_ kindly, the favour shall be returned,
the thing that you ask; both that and anything else that you shall ask
of me, you shall obtain. And I would not have you blame me, because in
my anger I have treated him harshly.
PHIL. What have you done? HEG. I confined him in fetters at the
stone-quarries, when I found out that I had been imposed upon.
PHIL. Ah wretched me! That for my safety misfortunes should have
happened to that best of men.
HEG. Now, on this account, you need not give me even _one_ groat of
silver [1] for him. Receive him of me without cost that he may be free.
PHIL. On my word, Hegio, you act with kindness; but I entreat that you
will order _this_ man to be sent for.
HEG. Certainly. (_To the attendants, who immediately obey._) Where are
you? Go this instant, _and_ bring Tyndarus here. (To PHILOPOLEMUS and
PHILOCRATES.) Do you go in-doors; in the meantime, I wish to enquire of
this statue for whipping [2], what was done with my younger son. Do you
go bathe in the meantime.
PHILOP. Philocrates, follow me this way in-doors.
PHIL. I follow you. (_They go into the house._)
[Footnote 1: _One groat of silver_)--Ver. 952. "Libella" was the name
of the smallest silver coin with the Romans, being the tenth part of a
denarius. Hegio seems to make something of a favour of this, and to give
his liberty to Tyndarus in consideration of his punishment; whereas
he had originally agreed with Philocrates that, if Philopolemus was
liberated, both he and Tyndarus should be set at liberty.]
[Footnote 2: _This statue for whipping_)--Ver. 956. The same expression
occurs in the Pseudolus, I. 911.]
SCENE III.--HEGIO _and_ STALAGMUS.
HEG. Come you, step this way, you worthy fellow, my fine slave.
STAL. What is fitting for me to do, when you, such a man as you are, are
speaking false? I was never a handsome _or_ a fine, _or_ a good person,
_or_ an honest one, nor shall I ever be; assuredly, don't you be forming
any hopes that I shall be honest.
HEG. You easily understand pretty well in what situation your fortunes
are. If you shall prove truth-telling, you'll make your lot from bad
somewhat better. Speak out, _then_, correctly and truthfully; but never
yet truthfully or correctly have you acted.
STAL. Do you think that I'm ashamed to own it, when you affirm it?
HEG. But I'll make you to be ashamed; for I'll cause you to be blushes
all over [1].
STAL. Heyday--you're threatening stripes, I suppose, to me, _quite_
unaccustomed to them! Away with them, I beg. Tell me what you bring,
that you may carry off hence what you are in want of.
HEG. Very fluent _indeed_. But now I wish this prating to be cut short.
STAL. As you desire, so be it done.
HEG. (_to the_ AUDIENCE). As a boy he was very obedient [2]; now that
suits him not. Let's to this business; now give your attention, and
inform me upon what I ask. If you tell the truth, you'll make your
fortunes somewhat better.
STAL. That's _mere_ trifling. Don't you think that I know what I'm
deserving of?
HEG. Still, it is in your power to escape a small portion of it, if not
the whole.
STAL. A small portion I shall escape, I know; but much will befall me,
and with my deserving it, because I both ran away, and stole your son
and sold him.
HEG. To what person? STAL. To Theodoromedes the Polyplusian, in Elis,
for six minae.
HEG. O ye immortal Gods! He surely is the father of this person,
Philocrates.
STAL. Why, I know him better than yourself, and have seen him more
times.
HEG. Supreme Jove, preserve both myself and my son for me. (_He goes to
the door, and calls aloud._) Philocrates, by your _good_ Genius, I do
entreat you, come out, I want you.
[Footnote 1: _Be blushes all over_)--Ver. 967. He means that he will
have him flogged until he is red all over.]
[Footnote 2: _Was very obedient_)--Ver. 971. An indelicate remark is
covertly intended in this passage.]
SCENE IV.--_Enter_ PHILOCRATES, _from the house._
PHIL. Hegio, here am I; if you want anything of me, command me.
HEG. He (_pointing to_ STALAGMUS) declares that he sold my son to your
father, in Elis, for six minae.
PHIL. (to STALAGMUS). How long since did that happen?
STAL. This is the twentieth year, commencing _from it_.
PHIL. He is speaking falsely. STAL. Either I or you _do_. Why, your
father gave you the little child, of four years old, to be your own
slave.
PHIL. What was his name? If you are speaking the truth, tell me that,
then.
STAL. Paegnium, he used to be called; afterwards, you gave him the name
of Tyndarus.
PHIL. Why don't I recollect you? STAL. Because it's the fashion for
persons to forget, and not to know him whose favour is esteemed as worth
nothing.
PHIL. Tell me, was he the person whom you sold to my father, who was
given me for my private service?
STAL. _It was_ his son (_pointing to_ HEGIO).
HEG. Is this person now living? STAL. I received the money. I cared
nothing about the rest.
HEG. (_to_ PHILOCRATES). What do you say?
PHIL. Why, this very Tyndarus is your son, according, indeed, to the
proofs that he mentions. For, a boy _himself_ together with me from
boyhood was he brought up, virtuously and modestly, even to manhood.
HEG. I am both unhappy and happy, if you are telling the truth. Unhappy
for this reason, because, if he is my son, I have badly treated him.
Alas! why have I done both more and less than was his due. That I have
ill treated him I am grieved; would that it only could be undone. But
see, he's coming here, in a guise not according to his deserts.
SCENE V.--_Enter_ TYNDARUS, _in chains, led in by the_ SERVANTS.
TYND. (_to himself_). I have seen many of the torments which take place
at Acheron [1] often represented in paintings [2]; but most certainly
there is no Acheron equal to where I have been in the stone-quarries.
There, in fine, is the place where real lassitude must be undergone
by the body in laboriousness. For when I came there, just as either
jackdaws, or ducks, or quails, are given to Patrician children [3], for
them to play with, so in like fashion, when I arrived, a crow was given
[4] me with which to amuse myself. But see, my master's before the door;
and lo! my other master has returned from Elis.
HEG. Hail to you, my much wished-for son.
TYND. Ha! how--my son? Aye, aye, I know why you pretend yourself to be
the father, and me to be the son; _it is_
because, just as parents do, you give me the means of seeing the light[5].
PHIL. Hail to you, Tyndarus. TYND. And to you, for whose sake I am
enduring these miseries.
PHIL. But now I'll make you in freedom come to wealth. For (_pointing
to_ HEGIO) this is your father; (_pointing to_ STALAGMUS) that is the
slave who stole you away from here when four years old, _and_ sold you
to my father for six minae. He gave you, when a little child, to me a
little child, for my own service. He (_pointing to_ STALAGMUS). has made
a confession, for we have brought him back from Elis.
TYND. How, where's _Hegio's_ son? PHIL. Look _now_; in-doors is your own
brother.
TYND. How do you say? Have you brought that captive son of his?
PHIL. Why, he's in-doors, I say.
TYND. By my faith, you're done both well and happily.
PHIL. (_pointing to_ HEGIO). Now this is your own father; (_pointing to_
STALAGMUS) this is the thief who stole you when a little child.
TYND. But now, grown up, I shall give him grown up to the executioner
for his thieving.
PHIL. He deserves it. TYND. I' faith, I'll deservedly give him the
reward that he deserves. (_To_ HEGIO.) But tell me I pray you, are you
my father?
HEG, I am he, my son. TYND. Now, at length, I bring it to my
recollection, when I reconsider with myself: troth, I do now at last
recall to memory that I had heard, as though through a mist, that my
father was called Hegio.
HEG. I am he. PHIL. I pray that your son may be lightened of these
fetters, and this slave be loaded with them.
HEG. I'm resolved that that shall be the first thing attended to. Let's
go in-doors, that the blacksmith may be sent for, in order that I may
remove those fetters from you, and give them to him. (_They go into the
house._)
STAL. To one who has no savings _of his own_, you'll be rightly doing so
[6].
_The_ COMPANY _of_ PLAYERS _coming forward._
Spectators, this play is founded on chaste manners. No wenching is there
in this, and no intriguing, no exposure of a child, no cheating out of
money; and no young man in love here make his mistress free without his
father's knowledge. The Poets find but few Comedies [7] of this kind,
where good men might become better. Now, if it pleases you, and if we
have pleased you, and have not been tedious, do you give this sign _of
it_: you who wish that chaste manners should have their reward, give
_us_ your applause.
[Footnote 1: _At Acheron_)--Ver. 1003. He here speaks of Acheron, not as
one of the rivers of hell, but as the infernal regions themselves.]
[Footnote 2: _Represented in paintings_)--Ver. 1003 Meursius thinks
that the torments of the infernal regions were frequently represented in
pictures, for the purpose of deterring men from evil actions, by keeping
in view the certain consequences of their bad conduct.]
[Footnote 3: _To Patrician children_)--Ver. 1007. This passage is
confirmed by what Pliny the Younger tells us in his Second Epistle. He
says, that on the death of the son of Regulus, his father, in his grief,
caused his favourite ponies and dogs, with his nightingales, parrots,
and jackdaws, to be consumed on the funeral pile. It would certainly
have been a greater compliment to his son's memory had he preserved
them, and treated them kindly; but probably he intended to despatch them
as playthings for the child in the other world.]
[Footnote 4: _A crow was given_)--Ver. 1009. "Upupa." He puns upon the
twofold meaning of this word, which signified either "a mattock" or a
bird called a "hoopoe," according to the context. To preserve the spirit
of the pun, a somewhat different translation has been given.]
[Footnote 5: _Of seeing the light_)--Ver. 1013. He says, "You can only
resemble a parent in the fact that you have given me the opportunity of
seeing the light of day, by taking me out of the dark stone-quarries."]
[Footnote 6: _Be rightly doing so_)--Ver. 1033. Stalagmus chooses to
take the word "dem" "may give," used by Hegio in its literal sense,
and surlily replies, "I have nothing of my own by way of savings,
'peculium,' so I am the very person to whom you ought to give."]
[Footnote 7: _Find but few Comedies_)--Ver. 1038. He here confesses that
he does not pretend to frame the plots of his Plays himself, but that he
goes to Greek sources for them; and forgetting that "beggars most not
be choosers," he complains that so very few of the Greek Comedies are
founded upon chaste manners. Indeed, this Play is justly deemed the most
pure and innocent of all the Plays of Plautus; and the Company are quite
justified in the commendations which, in their Epilogue, they bestow
on it, as the author has carried out the premise which he made in the
Prologue (with only four slight exceptions), of presenting them with an
immaculate Play.]
MOSTELLARIA OR, THE HAUNTED HOUSE.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
THEUROPIDES, a merchant of Athens.
SIMO, an aged Athenian, his neighbour.
PHILOLACHES, son of Theuropides.
CALLIDAMATES, a young Athenian, friend of Philolaches.
TRANIO, servant of Philolaches.
GRUMIO, servant of Theuropides.
PHANISCUS, servant of Callidamates.
ANOTHER SERVANT of Callidamates.
A BANKER.
A BOY.
PHILEMATIUM, a music-girl, mistress of Philolaches.
SCAPHA, her attendant.
DELPHIUM, mistress of Callidamates.
_Scene_--Athens: before the houses of THEUROPIDES and SIMO.
MOSTELLARIA [1] OR, THE HAUNTED HOUSE.
[Footnote 1: _Mottellaria_) This is a word probably derived from
"mostellum," the diminutive of "monstrum," a "spectre" or "prodigy." It
was probably coined by Plautus to serve as the title of this Play,
which is called by several of the ancient Commentators by the name of
"Phasma," "the Apparition."]
THE ACROSTIC ARGUMENT. [Supposed to have been written by Priscian the
Grammarian.]
PHILOLACHES has given liberty to (_Manumisit_) his mistress who has
been bought _by him_, and he consumes all (_Omnem_) his substance in
the absence of his father. When he returns, Tranio deceives the old man
(_Senem_); he says that frightful (_Terrifica_) apparitions have been
seen in the house, and (_Et_) that at once they had removed from it. A
Usurer, greedy of gain (_Lucripeta_), comes up in the meantime, asking
for the interest _of some money_, and again the old man is made sport
of (_Lusus_) for the _servant_ says that a deposit for a house which
has been bought has been taken up (_Acceptum_) on loan. _The old man_
enquires (_Requirit_) which it is; he says that of the neighbour next
door. He then looks over (_Inspectat_) it. Afterwards he is vexed that
he has been laughed at; still by (_Ab_) the companion of his son he is
_finally_ appeased.
ACT I.--SCENE I. _Enter, from the house of_ THEUROPIDES, GRUMIO,
_pushing out_ TRANIO.
GRU. Get out of the kitchen, will you; out of it, _you_ whip-scoundrel,
who are giving me your cavilling talk amid the platters; march out of
the house, you ruin of your master. Upon my faith, if I _only_ live,
I'll be soundly revenged upon you in the country. Get out, I say, you
steam of the kitchen. Why are you skulking _thus_?
TRA. Why the plague are you making _this_ noise here before the house?
Do you fancy yourself to be in the country[1]? Get out of the house;
be off into the country. Go and hang yourself. Get away from the door.
(_Striking him_.) There now, was it that you wanted?
GRU. (_running away_). I'm undone! Why are you beating me? TRA. Because
you want it.
GRU. I must endure it. Only let the old gentleman return _home_; only
let him come safe _home_, whom you are devouring in his absence.
TRA. You don't say what's either likely or true, you blockhead, as to
any one devouring a person in his absence.
GRU. Indeed, you town wit, you minion of the mob, do you throw the
country in my teeth? Really, Tranio, I do believe that you feel sure
that before long you'll be handed over to the mill. Within a short
period, i' faith, Tranio, you'll full soon be adding to the iron-bound
race [2] in the country. While you choose to, and have the opportunity,
drink on, squander his property, corrupt my master's son, a most worthy
young man, drink night and day, live like Greeks [3], make purchase of
mistresses, give them their freedom, feed parasites, feast yourselves
sumptuously. Was it thus that the old gentleman enjoined you when
he went hence abroad? Is it after this fashion that he will find his
property well husbanded? Do you suppose that this is the duty of a good
servant, to be ruining both the estate and the son of his master? For I
do consider him as ruined, when he devotes himself to these goings on.
_A person_, with whom not one of all the young men of Attica was before
deemed equally frugal or more steady, the same is now carrying off
the palm in the opposite direction. Through your management and your
tutoring has that been done.
TRA. What the plague business have you with me or with, what I do?
Prithee, haven't you got _your_ cattle in the country for you to look
to? I choose to drink, to intrigue, to keep my wenches; this I do at the
peril of my own back, _and_ not of yours.
GRU. Then with what assurance he does talk! (_Turning away in disgust._)
Faugh!
TRA. But may Jupiter and all the Deities confound you; you stink of
garlick, you filth unmistakeable, you clod, you he-goat, you pig-sty,
you mixture of dog and she-goat.
GRU. What would you have to be done? It isn't all that can smell of
foreign perfumes, if you smell of them; or that can take their places at
table above their master, or live on such exquisite dainties as you live
upon. Do you keep to yourself those turtle-doves, _that_ fish, _and_
poultry; let me enjoy my lot upon garlick diet. You are fortunate; I
unlucky. It must be endured. Let my good fortune be awaiting me, your
bad yourself.
TRA. You seem, Grumio, as though you envied me, because I enjoy myself
and you are wretched. It is quite my due. It's proper for me to make
love, and for you to feed the cattle; for me to fare handsomely, you in
a miserable way.
GRU. O riddle for the executioner [4], as I guess it will turn out;
they'll be so pinking you with goads, as you carry your gibbet [5] along
the streets one day, as soon as ever the old gentleman returns here.
TERA. How do you know whether that mayn't happen to yourself sooner than
to me? GRU. Because I have never deserved it; you have deserved it, and
you now deserve it.
TRA. Do cut short the trouble of your talking, unless you wish a heavy
mischance to befall you.
GRU. Are you going to give me the tares for me to take for the cattle?
If you are not, give me the money. Go on, still persist in the way in
which you've commenced! Drink, live like Greeks, eat, stuff yourselves,
slaughter your fatlings!
TRA. Hold your tongue, and be off into the country; I intend to go to
the Piraeus to get me some fish for the evening. To-morrow I'll make
some one bring you the tares to the farm. What's the matter? Why now are
you staring at me, gallows-bird?
GRU. I' faith, I've an idea that will be your own title before long.
TRA. So long as it is as it is, in the meantime I'll put up with that
"before long."
GRU. That's the way; and understand this one thing, that that which is
disagreable comes much more speedily than that which you wish for.
TRA. Don't you be annoying; now then, away with you into the country,
and betake yourself off. Don't you deceive yourself, henceforth you
shan't be causing me _any_ impediment. (_Exit._
GRU. (_to himself_). Is he really gone? Not to care one straw for what
I've said! O immortal Gods, I do implore your aid, do cause this old
gentleman of ours, who has now been three years absent from here, to
return hither as soon as possible, before everything is gone, both house
and land. Unless he does return here, remnants to last for a few months
_only_ are left. Now I'll be off to the country; but look! I see
my master's son, one who has been corrupted from having been a most
excellent young man. (_Exit._
[Footnote 1: In the country)--Ver. 7. Grumio appears to have been cook
and herdsman combined, and perhaps generally employed at the country
farm of Thenropides. On this occasion he seems to have been summoned to
town to cook for the entertainment which Philolaches is giving to his
friends.]
[Footnote 2: _The iron-bound race_)--Ver. 18. The gang of slaves, who,
for their malpractices, are working in the country in chains.]
[Footnote 3: _Live like Greeks_)--Ver. 21. "Pergraescamini." Though the
Scene is at Athens, Plautus consults the taste of a Roman Audience, as
on many other occasions, in making the Greeks the patterns of riotous
livers. Asconius Pedianus says that at these entertainments the Greeks
drank off a cup of wine every time they named a Divinity or mentioned a
friend.]
[Footnote 4: _Riddle for the executioner_)--Ver. 52. Riddled with holes
by the scourge of the executioner.]
[Footnote 5: _You carry your gibbet_--Ver. 53. Bearing his own cross; a
refinement of torture which was too often employed upon malefactors.]
SCENE II.--_Enter_ PHILOLACHES, _from the house of_ THEUROPIDES.
PHIL. (_to himself_). I've often thought and long reflected on it, and
in my breast have held many a debate, and in my heart (if any heart I
have) have revolved this matter, and long discussed it, to what thing
I'm to consider man as like, and what form he has when he is born? I've
now discovered this likeness. I think a man is like unto a new house
when he is born. I'll give my proofs of this fact. (_To the_ AUDIENCE.)
And does not this seem to you like the truth? But so I'll manage that
you shall think it is so. Beyond a doubt I'll convince you that it is
true what I say. And this yourselves, I'm sure, when you have heard my
words, will say is no otherwise than just as I now affirm that it is.
Listen while I repeat my proofs of this fact; I want you to be equally
knowing with myself upon this matter. As soon as ever a house is built
up, nicely polished off [1], carefully erected, _and_ according to rule,
people praise the architect and approve of the house, they take from it
each one a model for himself. Each one _has_ something similar, quite
at his own expense; they do not spare their pains. But when a worthless,
lazy, dirty, negligent fellow betakes himself thither with an idle
family, then is it imputed as a fault to the house, while a good _house_
is being kept in bad repair. And this is often the case; a storm comes
on and breaks the tiles and gutters; then a careless owner takes no heed
to put up others. A shower comes on _and_ streams down the walls; the
rafters admit the rain; the weather rots the labours of the builder;
then the utility of the house becomes diminished; and yet this is not
the fault of the builder. But a great part _of mankind_ have contracted
this _habit of_ delay; if anything can be repaired by means of money,
they are always still putting it off, and don't * * * do it until the
walls come tumbling down [2]; _then_ the whole house has to be built
anew. These instances from buildings I've mentioned; and now I wish to
inform you how you are to suppose that men are like houses. In the first
place then, the parents are the builders-up of the children, and lay the
foundation for the children; they raise them up, they carefully train
them to strength, and that they may be good both for service and for
view before the public. They spare not either their own pains or their
cost, nor do they deem expense in that to be an expense. They refine
them, teach them literature, the ordinances, the laws; at their own cost
and labour they struggle, that others may wish for their own _children_
to be like to them. When they repair to the army, they then find them
some relation [3] of theirs as a protector. At that moment they pass out
of the builder's hands. One year's pay has _now_ been earned; at that
period, then, a sample is on view how the building will turn out. But
I was always discreet and virtuous, just as long as I was under the
management of the builder. After I had left him to follow the bent of
my own inclinations, at once I entirely spoiled the labours of the
builders. Idleness came on; that was my storm; on its arrival, upon me
it brought down hail _and_ showers, which overthrew my modesty and the
bounds of virtue, and untiled them for me in an instant. After that
I was neglectful to cover in _again_; at once passion like a torrent
entered my heart; it flowed down even unto my breast, _and_ soaked
through my heart. Now both property, credit, fair fame, virtue, _and_
honor have forsaken _me_; by usage have I become much worse, and, i'
faith (so rotten are these rafters of _mine_ with moisture), I do not
seem to myself to be able possibly to patch up my house to _prevent
it_ from falling down totally once for all, from perishing from the
foundation, _and_ from no one being able to assist me. My heart pains
me, when I reflect how I now am and how I _once_ was, than whom in
youthful age not one there was more active in the arts of exercise [4],
with the quoit, the javelin, the ball, racing, arms, _and_ horses. I
_then_ lived a joyous life [5]; in frugality and hardihood I was an
example to others; all, even the most deserving, took a lesson from me
for themselves. Now that I'm become worthless, to that, indeed, have I
hastened through the bent of my inclinations. (_He stands apart._)
[Footnote 1: _Polished off_)--Ver. 98. From this passage it would
seem that pains were taken to give the houses a smooth and polished
appearance on the outside.]
[Footnote 2: _Walls come tumbling down_)--Ver. 114. Warner remarks that
a sentiment not unlike this is found in Scripture, Ecclesiastes, x. 18:
"By much slothfulness, the building decayeth; and through idleness of
the hands the house droppeth through." It may be also observed that the
passage is very similar to the words of the parable of the foolish
man who built his house upon sand, St. Matthew, vii. 26: "And the rain
descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon that
house, and it fell; and great was the fall thereof."]
[Footnote 3: _Find them some relation_)--Ver. 127. In the first year of
military service the Roman youths were placed under the tutelage of some
relation or friend.]
[Footnote 4: _In the arts of exercise_)--Ver. 147. "Arte gymnastica."
Literally, "in the gymnastic art."]
[Footnote 5: _Lived a joyous life_)--Ver. 148. "Victitabam volup."
Lambinus suggests that the true reading here is "hand volup," "not
voluptuously."]
SCENE III.--_Enter_ PHILEMATIUM _and_ SCAPHA, _with all the requisites
for a toilet._
PHILE. On my word, for this long time I've not bathed in cold water with
more delight _than just now_; nor do I think that I ever was, my _dear_
Scapha, more thoroughly cleansed _than now_.
SCA. May the upshot of everything be _unto you_ like a plenteous year's
harvest.
PHILE. What has this harvest got to do with my bathing?
SCA. Not a bit more than your bathing _has to do_ with the harvest.
PHILO. (_apart_). O beauteous Venus, this is that storm of mine which
stripped off all the modesty with which I was roofed; through which
Desire and Cupid poured their shower into my breast; and never since
have I been able to roof it in. Now are my walls soaking in my heart;
this building is utterly undone.
PHILE. Do look, my Scapha, there's a dear, whether this dress quite
becomes me. I wish to please Philolaches my protector, the apple of my
eye.
SCA. Nay but, you set yourself off to advantage with pleasing manners,
inasmuch as you yourself are pleasing. The lover isn't in love with a
woman's dress, but with that which stuffs out [1]the dress.
PHILO. (_apart_). So may the Gods bless me, Scapha is waggish; the
hussy's quite knowing. How cleverly she understands all matters, the
maxims of lovers too!
PHILE. Well now? SCA. What is it?
PHILE. Why look at me and examine, how this becomes me.
SCA. Thanks to your good looks, it happens that whatever you put on
becomes you.
PHILO. (_apart_). Now then, for that expression, Scapha, I'll make you
some present or other to-day, and I won't allow you to have praised her
for nothing who is so pleasing to me.
PHILE. I don't want you to flatter me.
SCA. Really you are a very simple woman. Come now, would you rather be
censured undeservedly, than be praised with truth? Upon thy faith, for
my own part, even though undeservedly, I'd much rather be praised than
be found fault with with reason, or that other people should laugh at my
appearance.
PHILE. I love the truth; I wish the truth to be told me; I detest a
liar.
SCA. So may you love me, _and_ so may your Philolaches love you, how
charming you are.
PHILO. (_apart_). How say you, you hussy? In what words did you adjure?
"So may I love her?" Why wasn't "So may she _love_ me" added as well? I
revoke the present. What I just now promised you is done for; you have
lost the present.
SCA. Troth, for my part I am surprised that you, a person so knowing,
so clever, and _so_ well educated, are not aware that you are acting
foolishly.
PHILE. Then give me your advice, I beg, if I have done wrong in
anything.
SCA. I' faith, you certainly do wrong, in setting your mind upon
him alone, in fact, and humouring him in particular in this way and
slighting other men. It's the part of a married woman, _and_ not of
courtesans, to be devoted to a single lover.
PHILO. (_apart_). O Jupiter! Why, what pest is this that has befallen
my house? May all the Gods and Goddesses destroy me in the worst of
fashions, if I don't kill this old hag with thirst, and hunger, and
cold.
PHILE. I don't want you, Scapha, to be giving me bad advice.
SCA. You are clearly a simpleton, in thinking that he'll for everlasting
be your friend and well-wisher. I warn you _of that_; he'll forsake you
by reason of age and satiety.
PHILE. I hope not.
SCA. Things which you don't hope happen more frequently than things
which you do hope. In fine, if you cannot be persuaded by words to
believe this to be the truth, judge of my words from facts; consider
_this_ instance, who I _now_ am, and who I _once_ was. No less than
you _are_ now, was I _once_ beloved, and I devoted myself to one, who,
faith, when with age this head changed its hue, forsook and deserted me.
Depend on it, the same will happen to yourself.
PHILO. (_apart_). I can scarcely withhold myself from flying at the eyes
of this mischief-maker.
PHILE. I am of opinion that I ought to keep myself alone devoted to him,
since to myself alone has he given freedom for himself alone.
PHILO. (_apart_). O ye immortal Gods! what a charming woman, and of
a disposition how chaste! By heaven, 'tis excellently done, and I'm
rejoiced at it, that it is for her sake I've got nothing _left_.
SCA. On my word you really are silly.
PHILE. For what reason?
SCA. Because you care for this, whether he loves you.
PHILE. Prithee, why should I not care for it?
SCA. You now are free. You've now got what you wanted; if he didn't
still love you, as much money as he gave for your liberty, he'd lose.
PHILO. (_apart_). Heavens, I'm a dead man if I don't torture her to
death after the most shocking fashion. That evil-persuading enticer to
vice is corrupting this damsel.
PHILE. Scapha, I can never return him _sufficient_ thanks for what he
deserves of me; don't you be persuading me to esteem him less.
SCA. But take care and reflect upon this one thing, if you devote
yourself to him alone, while now you are at this youthful age, you'll be
complaining to no purpose in your aged years.
PHILO. (_apart_). I could wish myself this instant changed into a
quinsy, that I might seize the throat of that old witch, and put an end
to the wicked mischief-maker.
PHILE. It befits me now to have the same grateful feelings since I
obtained it, as formerly before I acquired it, when I used to lavish
caresses upon him.
PHILO. (_apart_). May the Gods do towards me what they please, if for
that speech I don't make you free over again, and if I don't torture
Scapha to death.
SCA. If you are quite assured that you will have a provision to the end,
and that this lover will be your own for life, I think that you ought to
devote yourself to him alone, and assume the character of a wife [2].
PHILE. Just as a person's character is, he's in the habit of finding
means accordingly; if I keep a good character for myself I shall be rich
enough.
PHILO. (_apart_). By my troth, since selling there must be, my father
shall be sold much sooner than, while I'm alive, I'll ever permit you to
be in want or go a-begging.
SCA. What's to become of the rest of those who are in love with you?
PHILE. They'll love me the more when they see me displaying gratitude to
one who has done me services.
PHILO. (_apart_). I do wish that news were brought me now that my
father's dead, that I might disinherit myself of my property, and that
she might be my heir.
SCA. This property _of his_ will certainly soon be at an end; day and
night there's eating _and_ drinking, and no one displays thriftiness;
'tis downright cramming [3].
PHILO. (_apart_). I' faith, I'm determined to make trial on yourself for
the first to be thrifty; for you shall neither eat nor drink anything at
my house for the next ten days.
PHILE. If you choose to say anything good about him, you shall be at
liberty to say it; if you speak otherwise than well, on my word you
shall have a beating instantly.
PHILO. (_apart_). Upon my faith, if I had paid sacrifice to supreme Jove
with that money which I gave for her liberty, never could I have so well
employed it. Do see, how, from her very heart's core, she loves me! Oh,
I'm a fortunate man; I've liberated _in her_ a patron to plead my cause
for me.
SCA. I see that, compared with Philolaches, you disregard _all_ other
men; now, that on his account I mayn't get a beating, I'll agree with
you in preference, if you are quite satisfied that he will always prove
a friend to you.
PHILE. Give me the mirror [4], and the casket with my trinkets,
directly, Scapha, that I may be _quite_ dressed when Philolaches, my
delight, comes here.
SCA. A woman who neglects herself and her _youthful_ age has occasion
for a mirror; what need of a mirror have you, who yourself are in
especial a mirror for a mirror.
PHILO. (_apart_). For that expression, Scapha, that you mayn't have
said anything so pretty in vain, I'll to-day give something for your
savings--to you, my Philematium.
PHILE. (_while_ SCAPHA _is dressing her hair_). Will you see that each
hair is nicely arranged in its own place?
SCA. When you _yourself_ are _so_ nice, do believe that your hair must
be nice.
PHILO. (_apart_). Out upon it! what worse thing can possibly be spoken
of than this woman? Now the jade's a flatterer, just now she was all
contradictory.
PHILE. Hand me the ceruse [5].
SCA. Why, what need of ceruse _have you_?
PHILE. To paint my cheeks with it.
SCA. On the same principle, you would want to be making ivory white with
ink.
PHILO. (_apart_). Cleverly said that, about the ink and the ivory!
Bravo! I applaud you, Scapha.
PHILE. Well then, do you give me the rouge.
SCA. I shan't give it. You really are a clever one. Do you wish to patch
up a most clever piece with new daubing? It's not right that any paint
should touch that person, neither ceruse, nor quince-ointment, nor any
other wash. Take the mirror, then. (_Hands her the glass._)
PHILO. (_apart._) Ah wretched me!--she gave the glass a kiss. I could
much wish for a stone, with which to break the head of that glass.
SCA. Take the towel and wipe your hands.
PHILE. Why so, prithee?
SCA. As you've been holding the mirror, I'm afraid that your hands may
smell of silver; lest Philolaches should suspect you've been receiving
silver somewhere.
PHILO. (_apart_). I don't think that I ever did see anyone procuress
more cunning. How cleverly and artfully did it occur to the jade's
imagination about the mirror!
PHILE. Do you think I ought to be perfumed with unguents as well?
SCA. By no means do so. PHILE. For what reason?
SCA. Because, i' faith, a woman smells best [6] when she smells of
nothing at all. For those old women who are in the habit of anointing
themselves with unguents, vampt up _creatures_, old hags, _and_
toothless, who hide the blemishes of the person with paint, when the
sweat has blended itself with the unguents, forthwith they stink just
like when a cook has poured together a variety of broths; what they
smell of, you don't know, except this only, that you understand that
badly they do smell.
PHILO. (_apart_). How very cleverly she does understand everything!
There's nothing more knowing than this knowing woman! (_To the_
AUDIENCE.) This is the truth, and a very great portion, in fact, of you
know it, who have old women for wives at home who purchased you with
their portions.
PHILE. Come now; examine my golden trinkets and my mantle; does this
quite become me, Scapha?
SCA. It befits not me to concern myself about that.
PHILE. Whom then, prithee?
SCA. I'll tell you; Philolaches; so that he may not buy anything except
that which he fancies will please you. For a lover buys the favours of
a mistress for himself with gold and purple garments. What need is there
for that which he doesn't want as his own, to be shown him still? Age is
to be enveloped in purple; gold ornaments are unsuitable for a woman.
A beautiful woman will be more beautiful naked than drest in purple.
Besides, it's in vain she's well-drest if she's ill-conducted;
ill-conduct soils fine ornaments worse than dirt. But if she's
beauteous, she's sufficiently adorned.
PHILO. (_apart_). Too long have I withheld my hand. (_Coming forward._)
What are you about here?
PHILE. I'm decking myself out to please you.
PHILO. You are dressed enough. (_To_ SCAPHA.) Go you hence indoors, and
take away this finery. (SCAPHA _goes into the house._) But, my delight,
my Philematium, I have a mind to regale together with you.
PHILE. And, i' faith, so I have with you; for what you have a mind to,
the same have I a mind to, my delight.
PHILO. Ha! at twenty minae that expression were cheap.
PHILE. Give me ten, there's a dear; I wish to let you have that
expression bought a bargain.
PHILO. You've already got ten minae with you; or reckon up the account:
thirty minae I gave for your freedom--
PHILE. Why reproach me _with that_?
PHILO. What, I reproach you with it? Why, I had rather that I myself
were reproached with it; no money whatever for this long time have I
ever laid out equally well.
PHILE. Surely, in loving you, I never could have better employed my
pains.
PHILO. The account, then, of receipts and expenditure fully tallies
between ourselves; you love me, I love you. Each thinks that it is so
deservedly. Those who rejoice at this, may they ever rejoice at the
continuance of their own happiness. Those who envy, let not any one
henceforth be ever envious of their blessings.
PHILE. (_pointing to a couch on the stage_). Come, take your place,
then. (_At the door, to a_ SERVANT, _who obeys._) Boy, bring some water
for the hands; put a little table here. See where are the dice. Would
you like some perfumes? (_They recline on the couch._)
PHILO. What need is there? Along with myrrh I am reclining. But isn't
this my friend who's coming hither with his mistress? 'Tis he; it's
Callidamates; look, he's coming. Capital! my sweet one, see, our
comrades are approaching; they're coming to share the spoil.
[Footnote 1: _That which stuffs out_)--Ver. 164. That is, the body.]
[Footnote 2: _Assume the character of a wife_)--Ver. 220. "Capiundos
crines." Literally, "the hair mast be assumed." Festus says that it was
usual on the occasion of the marriage ceremony, to add six rows of curls
to the hair of the bride, in imitation of the Vestal virgins, who were
patterns of purity, and were dressed in that manner. Hence the term
"capere crines" came to signify "to become a wife."]
[Footnote 3: _'Tis downright cramming_)--Ver. 230. "Sagina plane est."
"Sagina" was the term applied to the fattening or cramming of animals
for the purpose of killing. The use of the term implies Scapha'a notion
of the bestial kind of life that Philolaches was leading.]
[Footnote 4: _Give me the mirror_)--Ver. 242. Probably a mirror with a
handle, such as the servants usually held for their mistresses. There is
something comical in the notion of a female coming out into the street
to make her toilet.]
[Footnote 5: _Hand me the ceruse_)--Ver. 252. White lead, or "cerussa,"
was used by the Roman women for the purpose of whitening the complexion.
Ovid mentions it in his Treatise on the Care of the Complexion, L 73.]
[Footnote 6: _A woman smells best_)--Ver. 267. Cicero and Martial have
a similar sentiment; their opinion has been followed by many modern
writers, and other persons as well.]
SCENE IV.--_Enter_ CALLIDAMATES, _at a distance, drunk, and_ DELPHIUM,
_followed by a_ SERVANT.
CALL. (_to his_ SERVANT). I want you to come for me [1] in good time to
the house of Philolaches; listen you; well then! those are your orders.
(_Exit_ SERVANT.) For from the place where I was, thence did I betake
myself off; so confoundedly tired was I there with the entertainment and
the discourse. Now I'll go to Philolaches to have a bout; there he'll
receive us with jovial feelings and handsomely. Do I seem to you to be
fairly drenched, my bubsy?
DEL. You ought always to live pursuing this course of life.
CALL. Should you like, _then_, for me to hug you, and you me? DEL. If
you've a mind to do so, of course.
CALL. You are a charming one. (_He stumbles._) Do hold me up, there's a
dear.
DEL. (_holding him by the arm_). Take care you don't fall. Stand up.
CALL. O! you are the apple of my eye. I'm your fosterling, my honey.
(_He stumbles._)
DEL. (_still holding him up_). Only do take care that you don't recline
in the street, before we get to a place where a couch is ready laid.
CALL. Do let me fall.
DEL. _Well_, I'll let you. (_Lets go._)
CALL. (_dragging her as he falls_). But that as well which I've got hold
of in my hand.
DEL. If you fall, you shan't fall without me falling with you. Then
some one shall pick us both up as we lie. (_Aside._) The man's quite
drenched.
CALL. (_overhearing_). Do you say that I am drenched, my bubsy?
DEL. Give me your hand; I really do not want you hurt.
CALL. (_giving his hand_). There now, take it.
DEL. Come, move on with me.
CALL. Where am I going, do you know?
DEL. I know.
CALL. It has just come into my head: why, of course I'm going home for a
booze.
DEL. Why yes, really now I do remember that.
PHILO. Won't you let me go to find them, my life? Of all persons I wish
well to him especially. I'll return just now. (_Goes forward towards the
door._)
PHILE. That "just now" is a long time to me.
CALL. (_going to the door and knocking_). Is there any person here?
PHILO. 'Tis he.
CALL. (_turning round_). Bravo! Philolaches, good day to you, most
friendly to me of all men.
PHILO. May the Gods bless you. (_Pointing to a couch._) Take your place,
Callidamates. (_He takes his place._) Whence are you betaking yourself?
CALL. Whence a drunken man _does_.
PHILO. Well said. But, my Delphium, do take your place, there's a dear.
(_She takes her place on a couch._)
CALL. Give her something to drink. I shall go to sleep directly. (_Nods
and goes to sleep._)
PHILO. He doesn't do anything wonderful or strange. What shall I do with
him then, my dear?
DEL. Let him alone just as he is.
PHILO. Come, you _boy_. Meanwhile, speedily pass the goblet round,
beginning with Delphium.
[Footnote 1: _You to come for me_)--Ver. 306. Though none of the
Editions say so, it is not improbable that this is said to Phaniscus,
who, in the sequel, comes to fetch Callidamates home. The duties of the
"adversitor" have been alluded to in a previous Note.]
SCENE V.--_Enter_ TRANIO, _at a distance._
TRA. (_to himself_). Supreme Jove, with all his might and resources, is
seeking for me and Philolaches, my master's son, to be undone. Our
hopes are destroyed; nowhere is there any hold for courage; not _even_
Salvation [1] _now_ could save us if she wished. Such an immense
mountain of woe have I just now seen at the harbour: my master has
arrived from abroad; Tranio is undone! (_To the_ AUDIENCE.) Is there
any person who'd like to make gain of a little money, who could this
day endure to take my place in being tortured? Where are those fellows
hardened to a flogging, the wearers-out of iron chains, or those, who,
for the consideration of three didrachms, would get beneath besieging
towers [2], where some are in the way of having their bodies pierced
with fifteen spears? I'll give a talent to that man who shall be the
first to run to the cross _for me_; but on condition that twice his
feet, twice his arms [3] are fastened there. When that shall have been
done, then ask the money down of me. But am I not a wretched fellow, not
at full speed to be running home?
PHILO. Here come the provisions; see, here's Tranio; he's come back from
the harbour.
TRA. (_running_). Philolaches!
PHILO. What's the matter? TRA. Both I and you--
PHILO. What about "Both I and you?"
TRA. Are undone!
PHILO. Why so? TRA. Your father's here.
PHILO. What is it I hear of you?
TRA. We are finished up. Your father's come, I say.
PHILO. (_starting up._) Where is he, I do entreat you?
TRA. He's coming.
PHILO. Coming? Who says so? Who has seen him?
TRA. I saw him myself, I tell you.
PHILO. Woe unto me! what am I about?
TRA. Why the plague now do you ask me, what you are about? Taking your
place at table, _of course_.
PHILO. Did you see him? TRA. I my own self, I tell you.
PHILO. For certain? TRA. For certain, I tell you.
PHILO. I'm undone, if you are telling the truth.
TRA. What good could it be to me if I told a lie?
PHILO. What shall I do now?
TRA. (_pointing to the table and couches_). Order all these things to be
removed from here. (_Pointing._) Who's that asleep there?
PHILO. Callidamates. TRA. Arouse him, Delphium.
DEL. (_bawling out in his ear_). Callidamates! Callidamates! awake!
CALL. (_raising himself a little_). I am awake; give me something to
drink.
DEL. Awake; the father of Philolaches has arrived from abroad. CALL. I
_hope_ his father's well.
PHILO. He is well indeed; but I am utterly undone.
CALL. You, utterly undone? How can that be?
PHILO. By heavens! do get up, I beg of you; my father has arrived.
CALL. Your father has come? Bid him go back again. What business had he
to come back here so soon?
PHILO. What am I to do? My father will, just now, be coming and
unfortunately finding me amid drunken carousals, _and_ the house full
of revellers and women. It's a shocking bad job, to be digging a well at
the last moment, just when thirst has gained possession of your throat;
just as I, on the arrival of my father, wretch that I am, am now
enquiring what I am to do.
TRA. (_pointing at_ CALLIDAMATES). Why look, he has laid down his head
and gone to sleep. Do arouse him.
PHILO. (_shaking him_). Will you awake now? My father, I tell you, will
be here this instant.
CALL. How say you? Your father? Give me my shoes, that I may take up
arms. On my word, I'll kill your father this instant.
PHILO. (_seizing hold of him_). You're spoiling the _whole_ business;
do hold your tongue. (_To_ DELPHIUM.) Prithee, do carry him off in your
arms into the house.
CALL. (_To_ DELPHIUM, _who is lifting him up_). Upon my faith, I'll be
making an utensil of you just now, if you don't find me one. (_He is led
off into the house._)
PHILO. I'm undone!
TRA. Be of good courage; I'll cleverly find a remedy for this alarm.
PHILO. I'm utterly ruined!
TRA. Do hold your tongue; I'll think of something by means of which to
alleviate this for you. Are you satisfied, if on his arrival I shall so
manage your father, not only that he shall not enter, but even that he
shall run away to a distance from the house? Do you only be off from
here in-doors, and remove these things from here with all haste.
PHILO. Where am I to be? TRA. Where you especially desire: with
her (_pointing to_ PHILEMATIUM); with this girl, _too_, you'll be.
(_Pointing to_ DELPHIUM.)
DEL. How then? Are we to go away from here?
TRA. Not far from here, Delphium. For carouse away in the house not a
bit the less on account of this.
PHILO. Ah me! I'm in a sweat with fear as to how these fine words are to
end! TRA. Can you not be tranquil in your mind, and do as I bid you?
PHILO. I can be. TRA. In the first place of all, Philematium, do you go
in-doors; and you, Delphium.
DEL. We'll both be obedient to you. (_They go into the house._)
TRA. May Jupiter grant it so! Now then, do you give attention as to what
I'd have attended to. In the first place, then, before anything, cause
the house to be shut up at once. Take care and don't let any one whisper
a word in-doors.
PHILO. Care shall be taken. TRA. Just as though no living being were
dwelling within the house.
PHILO. Very well. TRA. And let no one answer, when the old gentleman
knocks at the door.
PHILO. Anything else?
TRA. Order the master-key [4] of the house to be brought me at once from
within; this house I'll lock here on the outside.
PHILO. To your charge I commit myself, Tranio, and my hopes. (_He goes
into the house, and the things are removed from the stage._)
TRA. (_to himself_). It matters not a feather whether a patron or a
dependant is the nearest at hand for that man who has got no courage in
his breast. For to every man, whether very good or very bad, even at a
moment's notice, it is easy to act with craft; but this must be looked
to, this is the duty of a prudent man, that what has been planned and
done in craftiness, may all come about smoothly and without mishap; so
that he may not have to put up with anything by reason of which he might
be loth to live; just as I shall manage, that, from the confusion which
we shall here create, all shall really go on smoothly and tranquilly,
and not produce us any inconvenience in the results. (_Enter a_ BOY,
_from the house._) But, why have you come out? I'm undone! (_The_
BOY _shows him the key._) O very well, you've obeyed my orders most
opportunely.
BOY. He bade me most earnestly to entreat you some way or other to scare
away his father, that he may not enter the house.
TRA. Even more, tell him this, that I'll cause that he shan't venture
even to look at the house, _and_ to take to flight, covering up his head
[5] with the greatest alarm. Give me the key (_taking it_), and be off
in-doors, and shut to the door, and I'll lock it on this side. (_The_
BOY _goes into the house, and_ TRANIO _locks the door._) Bid him now
come forthwith. For the old gentleman here while still alive this day
will I institute games [6] in his presence, such as I fancy there will
never be for him when he's dead. (_Moving away._) I'll go away from the
door to this spot; hence, I'll look out afar in which direction to
lay the burden on the old fellow on his arrival. (_Exit to a little
distance._)
[Footnote 1: _Not even Salvation_)--Ver. 342. See the Captivi, 1. 535,
and the Note to the passage.]
[Footnote 2: _Beneath besieging towers_)--Ver 348. "Falae" were wooden
towers, placed on the top of walls or fortified places; of course the
attack of these would imply extreme danger to those who attempted it.]
[Footnote 3: _Twice his feet, twice his arms_)--Ver. 351. Some suppose
that by "bis pedes, bis brachia," he means that two nails were to be
driven into each leg and foot. It seems more probable that he means two
for the feet and two for the hands.]
[Footnote 4: _Order the master-key_)--Ver. 395. "Clavem--Laconicam;"
literally, "the Laconian key." This was a kind of key originally
invented by the Spartans, by means of which a door could be locked from
the outside, but not from within. According to some, this key was called
"Laconica," from its rough appearance, in allusion to the inelegant
exterior of the Spartans. In his Thesmophoriazusae, Aristophanes informs
us that these keys had three wards.]
[Footnote 5: _Covering up his head_)--Ver. 414. With the ancients, when
either ashamed or alarmed at anything, it was the custom to throw a part
of the dress over the head, as a hood.]
[Footnote 6: _Will I institute games_)--Ver. 417. He plays on the double
meaning of "ludes," which means either "tricks," or "funeral games" in
honor of the dead, according to the context.]
ACT II.--SCENE I.
_Enter_ THEUROPIDES, _followed by_ ATTENDANTS.
THEU. (_to himself_). Neptune, I do return extreme thanks to thee that
thou hast just dismissed me from thee, _though_ scarce alive. But if,
from this time forward, thou shalt only know that I have stirred a foot
upon the main, there is no reason why, that instant, thou shouldst not
do with me that which thou hast now wished to do. Away with you, away
with you from me henceforth for ever after to-day; what I was to entrust
to thee, all of it have I _now_ entrusted.
_Enter_ TRANIO, _overhearing him._
TRA. (_apart_). By my troth, Neptune, you've been much to blame, to have
lost this opportunity so fair.
THEU. After three years, I've arrived home from Aegypt. I shall come a
welcome _guest_ to my household, I suppose.
TRA. (_apart_). Upon my faith, he might have come a much more welcome
one, who had brought the tidings you were dead.
THEU. (_looking at the door_). But what means this? Is the door shut in
the daytime? I'll knock. (_Knocks at the door._) Hallo, there! is any
one going to open this door for me?
TRA. (_coming forward, and speaking aloud_). What person is it that has
come _so_ near to our house?
THEU. Surely this is my servant Tranio.
TRA. O Theuropides, my master, welcome; I'm glad that you've arrived in
safety. Have you been well all along?
THEU. All along, as you see.
TRA. That's very good.
THEU. What about yourselves? Are you _all_ mad?
TRA. Why so?
THEU. For this reason; because you are walking about outside; not a
born person is keeping watch in the house, either to open or to give an
answer. With kicking with my feet I've almost broken in the panels?
TRA. How now? Have you been touching this house?
THEU. Why shouldn't I touch it? Why, with kicking it, I tell you, I've
almost broken down the door.
TRA. What, you touched it?
THEU. I touched it, I tell you, and knocked at it.
TRA. Out upon you! THEU. Why so?
TRA. By heavens! 'twas ill done.
THEU. What is the matter? TRA. It cannot be expressed, how shocking and
dreadful a mischief you've been guilty of.
THEU. How so?
TRA. Take to flight, I beseech you, and get away from the house. Fly in
this direction, fly closer to me. (_He runs towards_ TRANIO.) What, did
you touch the door?
THEU. How could I knock, if I didn't touch it?
TRA. By all that's holy, you've been the death--