Introductory Section

Andria

The Eunuch

The Self-Tormentor

The Brothers

Hecyra

Phormio

254

HECYRA;
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW


DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Laches,1 an aged Athenian, father of Pamphilus.

Phidippus,2 an aged Athenian, father of Philumena.

Pamphilus,3 son of Laches.

Sosia,4 servant of Pamphilus.

Parmeno,5 servant of Sostrata.

Sostrata,6 wife of Laches.

Myrrhina,7 wife of Phidippus.

Bacchis,8 a Courtesan.

Philotis,9 a Courtesan.

Syra,10 a Procuress.

Scene.—Athens; before the houses of Laches, Phidippus, and Bacchis.

255

THE SUBJECT.


Pamphilus, the son of Laches by his wife Sostrata, being at the time enamored of Bacchis, a Courtesan, chances, one night, in a drunken fit, to debauch Philumena, the daughter of Phidippus and Myrrhina. In the struggle he takes a ring from her, which he gives to Bacchis. Some time afterward, at his father’s express desire, he consents to marry. By chance the young woman whom he has ravished is given to him as a wife, to the great joy of her mother, who alone is aware of her misfortune, and hopes that her disgrace may be thereby concealed. It, however, happens otherwise; for Pamphilus, still retaining his passion for Bacchis, refuses for some time to cohabit with her. Bacchis, however, now rejects the advances of Pamphilus, who by degrees becomes weaned from his affection for her, and grows attached to his wife, whom he has hitherto disliked. Meantime, however, he is suddenly called away from home. During his absence, Philumena, finding herself pregnant in consequence of her misfortune before her marriage, fearing detection, especially avoids the company of her mother-in-law. At length she makes an excuse for returning to the home of her own parents, where she remains. Sostrata thereupon sends for her, but is answered that she is ill, on which she goes to see her, but is refused admittance to the house. On hearing of this, Laches blames his wife as being the cause of this estrangement. Pamphilus now returns, and it so happens that, on the day of his arrival, Philumena is brought to bed of a child. Impatient to see her, Pamphilus rushes into her room, and to his great distress finds that this is the case. Myrrhina thereupon entreats him to keep the matter secret, and begs him, if he refuses to receive her daughter back again, at least not to ruin her reputation by divulging it. As he now declines either to take back his wife or give his reason for so doing, Laches suspects that he is still enamored of Bacchis, and accordingly sends for her, and expostulates with her. She, however, exonerates herself; on which the old man, supposing that Philumena and her mother are equally ignorant with himself as to his son’s motives, begs her to call on them and remove their suspicions. While she is conversing with them, they recognize the ring upon her finger which Pamphilus had formerly taken from Philumena. By means of this it is discovered that Pamphilus himself is the person who has ravished Philumena; on which, overjoyed, he immediately takes home his wife and son.

256

THE TITLE OF THE PLAY.


Performed at the Megalensian Games; Sextus Julius Csesar and Cneius Cornelius Dolabella being Curule Ædiles. The whole was not then acted. Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius, composed the music to a pair of flutes. It was composed wholly from the Greek of Menander.11 It was performed the first time without a Prologue. Represented a second time; Cneius Octavius and T. Manlius being Consuls.12 It was then brought out in honor of L. Æmilius Paulus, at his Funeral Games, and was not approved of. It was repeated a third time; Q. Fulvius and L. Marcius being Curule Ædiles. L. Ambivius Turpio performed it. It was then approved of.13

257

HECYRA;
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW


THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.

Pamphilus has married Philumena, to whom, when a virgin, he formerly, not knowing who she was, offered violence; and whose ring which he took off by force, he gave to his mistress, Bacchis, a Courtesan. Afterward he sets out for Imbros, not having touched his bride. Having become pregnant, her mother brings her over to her own house, as though sick, that her mother-in-law may not know it. Pamphilus returns; detects her being delivered; conceals it; but determines not to take back his wife. His father imputes this to his passion for Bacchis. While Bacchis is exculpating herself, Myrrhina, the mother of the injured girl, by chance recognizes the ring. Pamphilus takes back his wife, together with his son.

THE FIRST PROLOGUE.

Hecyra14 is the name of this Play; when it was represented for the first time, an unusual disaster and calamity15 interrupted it, so that it could not be witnessed throughout or estimated; so much had the populace, carried away with admiration, devoted their attention to some rope-dancing. It is now offered as though entirely a new Play; and he who wrote it did not wish to bring it forward then a second time, on purpose that he might be able again to sell it.16 Other Plays of 258 his17 you have seen represented; I beg you now to give your attention to this.

THE SECOND PROLOGUE.18

I come to you as an envoy from the Poet, in the character of prologue-speaker; allow me to be a successful pleader, that in my old age I may enjoy the same privilege that I enjoyed when a, younger man, when I caused new Plays, that had been once rejected, to come into favor; so that his writings might not die with the Poet. Among them, as to those of Cæcilius,19 which I first studied when new; in some of which I was rejected; in some I kept my ground with difficulty. As I knew that the fortune of the stage was varying, where the hopes were uncertain, I submitted to certain toil. Those I zealously attempted to perform, that from the same writer I might learn new ones, and not discourage him from his pursuits. I caused them to be represented. When seen, they pleased. Thus did I restore the Poet to his place, who was now almost weaned, through the malevolence of his adversaries, from his pursuits and labors, and from the dramatic art. But if I had at that period slighted the writer, and had wished to use my endeavors 259 in discouraging him, so that he might live a life of idleness rather than of study, I might have easily discouraged him from writing others. Now, for my sake, hear with unbiased minds what it is I ask. I again bring before you the Hecyra, which I have never been allowed to act before you in silence; such misfortunes have so overwhelmed it. These misfortunes your intelligence will allay, if it is a seconder of our exertions. The first time, when I began to act this Play, the vauntings of boxers,20 the expectation of a rope-dancer,21 added to which, the throng of followers, the noise, the clamor of the women, caused me to retire from your presence before the time. In this new Play, I attempted to follow the old custom of mine,22 of making a fresh trial; I brought it on again. In the first Act I pleased; when in the mean time a rumor spread that gladiators were about to be exhibited; the populace flock together, make a tumult, clamor aloud, and fight for their places:23 meantime, I was unable to maintain my place. Now there is no confusion: there is attention and silence—an opportunity of acting my Play has been granted me; to yourselves is given the power of gracing the scenic festival.24 Do not permit, through your agency, the dramatic 260 art to sink into the hands of a few; let your authority prove a seconder and assistant to my own. If I have never covetously set a price upon my skill, and have come to this conclusion, that it is the greatest gain in the highest possible degree to contribute to your entertainment; allow me to obtain this of you, that him who has intrusted his labors to my protection, and himself to your integrity,—that him, I say, the malicious may not maliciously deride, beset by them on every side. For my sake, admit of this plea, and attend in silence, that he may be encouraged to write other Plays, and that it may be for my advantage to study new ones hereafter, purchased at my own expense.25

ACT THE FIRST.

Scene I.

Enter Philotis26 and Syra.

Phil. I’faith, Syra, you can find but very few lovers who prove constant to their mistresses. For instance, how often did this Pamphilus swear to Bacchis—how solemnly, so that 261 any one might have readily believed him—that he never would take home a wife so long as she lived. Well now, he is married.

Syr. Therefore, for that very reason, I earnestly both advise and entreat you to take pity upon no one, but plunder, fleece, and rend every man you lay hold of.

Phil. What! Hold no one exempt?

Syr. No one; for not a single one of them, rest assured, comes to you without making up his mind, by means of his flatteries, to gratify his passion with you at the least possible expense. Will you not, pray, plot against them in return?

Phil. And yet, upon my faith, it is unfair to be the same to all.

Syr. What! unfair to take revenge on your enemies? or, for them to be caught in the very way they try to catch you? Alas! wretched me! why do not your age and beauty belong to me, or else these sentiments of mine to you?

Scene II.

Enter Parmeno from the house of Laches.

Par. (at the door, speaking to Scirtus within.) If the old man should be asking for me, do you say that I have just gone to the harbor to inquire about the arrival of Pamphilus. Do you hear what I say, Scirtus? If he asks for me, then you are to say so; if he does not, why, say nothing at all; so that at another time I may be able to employ that excuse as a new one. (Comes forward, and looking around.)—But is it my dear Philotis that I see? How has she come here? (Accosting her.) Philotis heartily good-morrow.

Phil. O, good-morrow, Parmeno.

Syr. By my troth, good-morrow, Parmeno.

Par. I’faith, Syra, the same to you. Philotis, tell me, where have you been enjoying yourself so long?

Phil. For my part, indeed, I have been far from enjoying myself, in leaving this place for Corinth with a most brutal captain; for two whole years, there, had I to put up with him to my sorrow.

Par. I’troth, I fancy that regret for Athens full oft possessed 262 you, and that you thought but poorly of your foresight.

Phil. It can not be expressed how impatient I was to return hither, get rid of the captain, and see yourselves here, that after our old fashion I might at my ease enjoy the merry-makings among you; for there it was not allowed me to speak, except at the moment prescribed, and on such subjects as he chose.

Par. (sarcastically.) I don’t think it was gallant in the captain to place a restraint on your tongue.

Phil. But what is this piece of business that Bacchis has just now been telling me in-doors here? (pointing to her house.) A thing I never supposed would come to pass, that he, in her lifetime, could possibly prevail upon his feelings to take a wife.

Par. To take, indeed!

Phil. Why, look you, has he not taken one?

Par. He has; but I doubt whether this match will be lasting.

Phil. May the Gods and Goddesses grant it so, if it is for the advantage of Bacchis. But why am I to believe it is so? Tell me, Parmeno.

Par. There is no need for its being spread abroad; ask me no more about it.

Phil. For fear, I suppose, it may be made public. So may the Gods prosper me, I do not ask you in order that I may spread it abroad, but that, in silence, I may rejoice within myself.

Par. You’ll never speak me so fairly, that I shall trust my back to your discretion.

Phil. Oh, don’t say so, Parmeno;27 as though you were not much more impatient to tell me this, than I to learn what I’m inquiring about.

Par. (to himself.) She tells the truth there; and that is my greatest failing. (To Philotis.) If you give me your word that you’ll keep it a secret, I’ll tell you.

263

Phil. You are now returning to your natural disposition. I give you my word; say on.

Par. Listen.

Phil. I’m all attention.

Par. Pamphilus was in the height of his passion for Bacchis here, when his father began to importune him to take a wife, and to urge those points which are usual with all fathers, that he himself was now in years, and that he was his only son, that he wished for a support for his declining years. He refused at first. But on his father pressing more urgently, he caused him to become wavering in his mind, whether to yield rather to duty or to love. By hammering on and teazing him, at last the old man gained his point; and betrothed him to the daughter of our next-door neighbor here (pointing to the house of Phidippus). This did not seem so very disagreeable to Pamphilus, until on the very point of marriage, when he saw that all was ready, and that no respite was granted, but marry he must; then, at last, he took it so much to heart, that I do believe if Bacchis had been present, even she would have pitied him. Whenever opportunity was afforded for us being alone, so that he could converse with me, he used to say: “Parmeno, I am ruined! What have I done! Into what misery have I plunged myself! Parmeno, I shall never be able to endure this. To my misery, I am undone!”

Phil. (vehemently exclaiming.) May the Gods and Goddesses confound you, Laches, for vexing him so!

Par. To cut the matter short, he took home his wife. On the first night, he did not touch the girl; the night that followed that, not a bit the more.

Phil. What is it you tell me? A young man go to bed with a virgin, intoxicated to boot, and able to restrain himself from touching her! You do not say what’s likely; nor do I believe it to be the truth.

Par. I suppose it does seem so to you, for no one comes to you unless he is eager for you; but he had married her against his will.

Phil. After this, what followed?

Par. In a very few days after, Pamphilus took me aside, away from the house, and told me how that the young woman was still untouched by him; and how that before he had taken her home as his wife, he had hoped to be able to endure this 264 marriage: “But, Parmeno, as I can not resolve to live with her any longer, it is neither honorable in me, nor of advantage to the young woman herself, for her to be turned to ridicule, but rather I ought to return her to her relations just as I received her.”

Phil. You tell me of a conscientious and virtuous disposition in Pamphilus.

Par. “For me to declare this, I consider to be inconvenient to me, but for her to be sent back to her father without mentioning any blame, would be insolent; but I am in hopes that she, when she is sensible that she can not live with me, will go at last of her own accord.”

Phil. What did he do in the mean while? Used he to visit Bacchis?

Par. Every day. But as usually is the case, after she saw that he belonged to another, she immediately became more ill-natured and more peevish.

Phil. I’faith, that’s not to be wondered at.

Par. And this circumstance in especial contributed to estrange him from her; after he had fairly examined himself, and her, and the one that was at home, he formed a judgment, by comparison, upon the principles of them both. She, just as might be expected from a person of respectable and free birth, chaste and virtuous, patient under the slights and all the insults of her husband, and concealing his affronts. Upon this, his mind, partly overcome by compassion for his wife, partly constrained by the insolence of the other, was gradually estranged from Bacchis, and transferred its affections to the other, after having found a congenial disposition. In the mean time, there dies at Imbros28 an old man, a relative of theirs. His property there devolved on them by law. Thither his father drove the love-sick Pamphilus, much against his will. He left his wife here with his mother, for the old man has retired into the country; he seldom comes into the city.

Phil. What is there yet in this marriage to prevent its being lasting?

Par. You shall hear just now. At first, for several days, there really was a good understanding between them. In the 265 mean time, however, in a strange way, she began to take a dislike to Sostrata; nor yet was there ever any quarrel or words between them.

Phil. What then?

Par. If at any time she came to converse with her, she would instantly withdraw from her presence,29 and refuse to see her; in fine, when she could no longer endure her, she pretended that she was sent for by her mother to assist at a sacrifice. When she had been there a few days, Sostrata ordered her to be fetched. She made some, I know not what, excuse. Again she gave similar orders; no one sent back any excuse. After she had sent for her repeatedly, they pretended that the damsel was sick. My mistress immediately went to see her; no one admitted her. On the old man coming to know of this, he yesterday came up from the country on purpose, and waited immediately upon the father of Philumena. What passed between them, I do not know as yet; but really I do feel some anxiety in what way this is to end. You now have the whole matter; and I shall proceed whither I was on my way.

Phil. And I too, for I made an appointment with a certain stranger30 to meet him.

Par. May the Gods prosper what you undertake!

Phil. Farewell!

Par. And a kind farewell to you, my dear Philotis.

Exeunt severally.

266

ACT THE SECOND.

Scene I.31

Enter Laches and Sostrata, from the house of the former.

Lach. O faith of Gods and men! what a race is this! what a conspiracy this! that all women should desire and reject every individual thing alike! And not a single one can you find to swerve in any respect from the disposition of the rest. For instance, quite as though with one accord, do all mothers-in-law hate their daughters-in-law. Just in the same way is it their system to oppose their husbands; their obstinacy here is the same. In the very same school they all seem to me to have been trained up to perverseness. Of that school, if there is any mistress, I am very sure that she (pointing at Sostrata) it is.

Sos. Wretched me! when now I don’t so much as know why I am accused!

Lach. Eh! you don’t know?

Sos. So may the Gods kindly prosper me, Laches, and so may it be allowed us to pass our lives together in unity!

Lach. (aside.) May the Gods avert such a misfortune!

Sos. I’m sure that before long you will be sensible that I have been accused by you undeservedly.

Lach. You, undeservedly? Can any thing possibly be said that you deserve in return for this conduct of yours? 267 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 children32 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 268 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 269 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 know33 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 270 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 271 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 word35 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!

272

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 about36 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

273
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!

274
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 275 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, 276 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.

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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 more43 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 278 that if ever he should return home safe, he would rupture me45 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?

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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 more48 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.

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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.

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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.

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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 283 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.

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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 which51 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.

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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 286 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.

287

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?

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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.

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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 290 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.

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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 like56 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 292 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 distance57 from me ever since he took a wife.

293

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?

294

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 suspected59 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.

295

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 296 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 speed60 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 297 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.

298
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, 299 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.

300

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

1. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.

2. From φειδὼ, “parsimony,” and ἱππὸς “a horse.”

3. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.

4. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.

5. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.

6. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Heautontimorumenos.

7. From μυῤῥινὴ “a myrtle.”

8. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Heautontimorumenos.

9. From φιλοτὴς “friendship.”

10. From Syria, her native country.

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.

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.

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.

14. Hecyra)—Ver. 1. The Greek word Ἕκυρα, a “step-mother,” or “mother-in-law,” Latinized.

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.

16. Again to sell it)—Ver. 7. See the last Note to the Second Prologue.

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.

18. Second Prologue)—Eugraphius informs us that this Prologue was spoken by Ambivius Turpio, the head of the company of Actors.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

26. Philotis)—This is a protatic character, or one that helps to introduce the subject of the Play, and then appears no more.

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.

28. Imbros)—Ver. 171. An island in the Ægean Sea, off the coast of Thrace.

29. From her presence)—Ver. 182. For the purpose, as will afterward appear, of not letting Sostrata see that she was pregnant.

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.’”

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.”

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

39. An intermitting one)—Ver. 357. “Quotidiana;” literally, “daily.”

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.

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.

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.

43. Thirty days or more)—Ver. 421. In his voyage from Imbros to Athens, namely, which certainly appears to have been unusually long.

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.

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.

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.”

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.”

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.

49. Pay back her portion)—Ver. 502. As was universally done on a separation by agreement.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.”

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.

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.


301

PHORMIO;
OR, THE SCHEMING PARASITE


DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Demipho,1

Chremes,2

Aged Athenians, brothers.

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

Crito,10

Advocates.

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.

302

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.

303

THE TITLE OF THE PLAY.


Performed at the Roman Games,14 L. Posthumius Albinus and L. Cornelius Merula being Curule Ædiles. L. Ambivius 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

304

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 Poet17 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 implores18 and 305 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.

306

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 struck23 for another present24 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?

307
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.

308

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 309 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.

310

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 summons32 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

311

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.

312

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 right35 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 313 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.

314

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.

315

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.

316
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.

317

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 318 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 evidence40 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?

319

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 320 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 say45 that, dreading his father’s presence, he has taken himself off?

Geta. Exactly so.

Phor. That Phanium is left alone?

Geta. Just so.

Phor. And that the old man is in a rage?

Geta. Extremely so.

Phor. The whole business, Phormio, rests on yourself alone; you yourself have hashed it up;46 it must all be swallowed by yourself, so set about it.

Geta. I entreat you——

Phor. (to himself.) If he inquires.

Geta. In you is all our hope.

Phor. (to himself.) Look at this, now:—What if he sends her back?

Geta. It was you that urged us.

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Phor. (to himself.) I think that will do.

Geta. Do help us.

Phor. (with alacrity.) Let the old gentleman come; all my plans are now ready prepared in my mind.

Geta. What will you do?

Phor. What would you have me? But that Phanium may continue with him, and that I may clear Antipho from this charge, and turn upon myself47 all the wrath of the old gentleman?

Geta. O brave and kind man! But, Phormio, I often dread lest this courage may end in the stocks at last.48

Phor. Oh, by no means; I’ve made trial, and have already pondered on the paths for my feet. How many men before to-day do you suppose I have beaten, even to death, strangers as well as citizens: the better I understand it, the oftener I try it. Just tell me, look you, did you ever hear of an action of damages being brought against me?

Geta. How is that?

Phor. Because the net is never spread for the hawk or the kite, that do us the mischief; it is spread for those that do us none: because in the last there is profit, while with the others it is labor lost. For persons, out of whom any thing can be got, there’s risk from others; they know that I’ve got nothing. You will say: “They will take you,49 when sentenced, into their house;” they have no wish to maintain a devouring fellow; and, in my opinion, they are wise, if for an injury they are unwilling to return the highest benefits.

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Geta. It’s impossible that sufficient thanks can be returned you by him for your kindness.

Phor. Why no; no person can return thanks sufficient to his patron50 for his kindness. For you to take your place at table at free cost,51 anointed and just washed at the bath, with your mind at ease, whereas he is devoured with the care and expense: while every thing is being done to give you delight, he is being vexed at heart; you are laughing away, first to drink,52 take the higher place; a banquet full of doubts53 is placed before you—

Geta. What is the meaning of that expression?

Phor. When you are in doubt which in especial to partake of. When you enter upon a consideration how delicious these things are, and how costly they are, the person who provides them, must you not account him a very God—neither more nor less?

Geta. The old man is coming; take care what you are about; the first onset is the fiercest; if you stand that, then, afterward, you may play just as you please.

They retire to a distance.

Scene II.

Enter, at a distance, Demipho, Hegio, Cratinus, and Crito, following him.

Dem. Well now—did you ever hear of an injury being done to any person in a more affronting manner than this has to me? Assist me, I do beg of you.

Geta (apart.) He’s in a passion.

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Phor. (apart.) Do you mind your cue; I’ll rouse him just now. (Stepping forward and crying aloud.) Oh immortal Gods! does Demipho deny that Phanium here is related to him?

Geta. He does deny it.

Dem. (to his friends.) I believe it is the very man I was speaking about. Follow me.

They all come forward.

Phor. (to Geta.) And that he knows who her father was?

Geta. He does deny it.

Phor. And that he knows who Stilpho was?

Geta. He does deny it.

Phor. Because the poor thing was left destitute, her father is disowned; she herself is slighted: see what avarice does.

Geta (in a loud voice.) If you are going to accuse my master of avarice, you shall hear what you won’t like.

Dem. Oh, the impudence of the fellow! Does he come on purpose to accuse me?

Phor. For really, I have no reason why I should be offended at the young man, if he did not know him; since that person, when growing aged and poor, and supporting himself by his labor, generally confined himself to the country; there he had a piece of land from my father to cultivate; full oft, in the mean time, did the old man tell me that this kinsman of his neglected him: but what a man? The very best I ever saw in all my life.

Geta (in a loud voice.) Look to yourself as well as to him, how you speak.

Phor. (with affected indignation.) Away, to utter perdition, with you. For if I had not formed such an opinion of him, I should never have incurred such enmity with your family on her account, whom he now slights in such an ungenerous manner.

Geta (aloud.) What, do you persist in speaking abusively of my master in his absence, you most abominable fellow?

Phor. Why, it’s just what he deserves.

Geta (aloud.) Say you so, you jail-bird?

Dem. (calling aloud.) Geta!

Geta (aloud.) A plunderer of people’s property—a perverter of the laws!

Dem. (calling aloud.) Geta!

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Phor. (apart, in a low voice.) Answer him.

Geta. Who is it? (Looking round.) Oh!——

Dem. Hold your peace.

Geta. He has never left off uttering abuse against you behind your back, unworthy of you, and just befitting himself.

Dem. Well now, have done. (Addressing Phormio.) Young man, in the first place, with your good leave, I ask you this, if you may possibly be pleased to give me an answer: explain to me who this friend of yours was, that you speak of, and how he said that he was related to me.

Phor. (sneeringly.) You are fishing it out, just as if you didn’t know.

Dem. I, know?

Phor. Yes.

Dem. I say I do not; you, who affirm it, recall it to my recollection.

Phor. Come now, didn’t you know your own cousin-german?

Dem. You torture me to death; tell me his name.

Phor. His name?

Dem. Of course. (Phormio hesitates.) Why are you silent now?

Phor. (aside.) Heavens, I’m undone; I’ve forgot the name.

Dem. Well, what do you say?

Phor. (aside, to Geta.) Geta, if you recollect the name I told you a short time since, prompt me. (Aloud, to Demipho.) Well then, I sha’n’t tell you; as if you didn’t know, you come to pump me.

Dem. I, come to pump you, indeed?

Geta. (whispering to Phormio.) Stilpho.

Phor. But, after all, what matters that to me? It is Stilpho.

Dem. Whom did you say?

Phor. Stilpho, I tell you; you knew him.

Dem. I neither know him, nor had I ever any relation of that name.

Phor. Say you so? Are you not ashamed of this? But if he had left you ten talents——

Dem. May the Gods confound you!

Phor. You’d have been the first, from memory, to trace 325 your line of kindred, even as far back as from grandfather and great-grandfather.

Dem. Very likely what you say. In that case, when I had undertaken it, I should have shown how she was related to me; do you do the same: tell me, how is she related to me?

Geta. Well done, my master, that’s right! (Threateningly to Phormio.) Hark you, take you care.

Phor. I’ve already made the matter quite plain where I ought, before the judges; besides, if it was untrue, why didn’t your son disprove it?

Dem. Do you talk about my son to me? Of whose folly there is no speaking in the language it deserves.

Phor. Then do you, who are so wise, go to the magistrates, that for you they may give a second decision in the same cause, since you reign alone54 here, and are the only man allowed to get a second trial in the same cause.

Dem. Although wrong has been done me, still, however, rather than engage in litigation, or listen to you, just as though she had been my relation, as the law orders one to find her a portion, rid me of her, and take five minæ.

Phor. (laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! a pleasant individual!

Dem. Well! am I asking any thing unfair? Or am I not to obtain even this, which is my right at common law?

Phor. Pray, really is it so, that when you have abused her like a courtesan, the law orders you to pay her hire and pack her off? Or is it the fact, that in order that a citizen may bring no disgrace upon herself through poverty, she has been ordered to be given to her nearest relative, to pass her life with him alone? A thing which you mean to prevent.

Dem. Yes, to her nearest relative, indeed; but why to us, or on what ground?

Phor. Well, well, a thing tried, they say, you can’t try over again.

Dem. Not try it? On the contrary, I shall not desist until I have gone through with it.

Phor. You are trifling.

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Dem. Only let me alone for that.

Phor. In short, Demipho, I have nothing to do with you; your son has been cast, and not you; for your time of life for marrying has now gone by.

Dem. Consider that it is he that says to you all I now say, or else assuredly, together with this wife of his, I’ll be forbidding him the house.

Geta (aside.) He’s in a passion.

Phor. You’ll be acting more considerately.

Dem. Are you so resolved, you unlucky fellow, to do me all the mischief you can?

Phor. (aside, to Geta.) He’s afraid of us, although he’s so careful to conceal it.

Geta (aside, to Phormio.) Your beginning has turned out well.

Phor. But if, on the contrary, you endure what must be endured, you’ll be doing what’s worthy of you, so that we may be on friendly terms.

Dem. (indignantly.) What, I seek your friendship, or have any wish to see or hear you?

Phor. If you can agree with her, you will have some one to cheer up your old age; just consider your time of life.

Dem. Let her cheer up yourself; keep her to yourself.

Phor. Really, do moderate your passion.

Dem. Mark what I say. There have been words enough already; if you don’t make haste to fetch away the woman, I shall turn her out: I have said it, Phormio.

Phor. If you use her in any other manner than is befitting a free-born woman, I shall be bringing a swinging action against you: I have said it, Demipho. (To Geta.) Hark you, if there should be any occasion for me, I shall be at home.

Geta (apart.) I understand you.

Exit Phormio.

Scene III.

Demipho, Hegio, Cratinus, Crito, and Geta.

Dem. What care and anxiety my son does bring upon me, by entangling himself and me in this same marriage! And he doesn’t so much as come into my sight, that at least I might know what he says about this matter, or what his 327 sentiments are. (To Geta.) Be off, go see whether he has returned home or not by this.

Geta. I will.

Goes into the house.

Dem. (to the Assistants.) You see how the case stands. What am I to do? Tell me, Hegio.

Heg. What, I? I think Cratinus ought, if it seems good to you.

Dem. Tell me, Cratinus.

Crat. What, do you wish me to speak? I should like you to do what is most for your advantage; it is my opinion, that what this son of yours has done in your absence, in law and justice ought to be annulled; and that you’ll obtain redress. That’s my opinion.

Dem. Say now, Hegio.

Heg. I believe that he has spoken with due deliberation; but it is the fact, “as many men, so many minds;”55 every one his own way. It doesn’t appear to me that what has been done by law can be revoked; and it is wrong to attempt it.

Dem. Speak, Crito.

Crit. I am of opinion that we must deliberate further;56 it is a matter of importance.

Heg. Do you want any thing further with us?

Dem. You have done very well. (Exeunt Assistants.) I am much more at a loss57 than before.

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Re-enter Geta, from the house.

Geta. They say that he has not come back.

Dem. I must wait for my brother. The advice that he gives me about this matter, I shall follow. I’ll go make inquiry at the harbor, when he is to come back.

Exit.

Geta. And I’ll go look for Antipho, that he may learn what has passed here. But look, I see him coming this way, just in the very nick of time.

Scene IV.

Enter Antipho, at a distance.

Ant. (to himself.) Indeed, Antipho, in many ways you are to be blamed for these feelings; to have thus run away, and intrusted your existence to the protection of other people. Did you suppose that others would give more attention to your interests than your own self? For, however other matters stood, certainly you should have thought of her whom you have now at home, that she might not suffer any harm in consequence of her confiding in you, whose hopes and resources, poor thing, are all now centred in yourself alone.

Geta (coming forward.) Why really, master, we have for some time been censuring you here in your absence, for having thus gone away.

Ant. You are the very person I was looking for.

Geta. But still, we were not a bit the more remiss on that account.

Ant. Tell me, I beg of you, in what posture are my interests and fortunes. Has my father any suspicion?

Geta. Not any at present.

Ant. Is there still any hope?

Geta. I don’t know.

Ant. Alas!

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Geta. But Phædria has not neglected to use his endeavors in your behalf.

Ant. He did nothing new.

Geta. Then Phormio, too, in this matter, just as in every thing else, showed himself a man of energy.

Ant. What did he do?

Geta. With his words he silenced the old man, who was very angry.

Ant. Well done, Phormio!

Geta. I, too, did all I could.

Ant. My dear Geta, I love you all.

Geta. The commencement is just in this position, as I tell you: matters, at present, are going on smoothly, and your father intends to wait for your uncle till he arrives.

Ant. Why him?

Geta. He said he was wishful to act by his advice, in all that relates to this business.

Ant. How greatly now, Geta, I do dread my uncle’s safe arrival! For, according to his single sentence, from what I hear, I am to live or die.

Geta. Here comes Phædria.

Ant. Where is he, pray?

Geta. See, he’s coming from his place of exercise.58

Scene V.

Enter from Dorio’s house, Dorio, followed by Phædria.

Phæd. Prithee, hear me, Dorio.

Dor. I’ll not hear you.

Phæd. Only a moment.

Dor. Let me alone.

Phæd. Do hear what I have to say.

Dor. Why really I am tired of hearing the same thing a thousand times over.

Phæd. But now, I have something to tell you that you’ll hear with pleasure.

Dor. Speak then; I’m listening.

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Phæd. Can I not prevail on you to wait for only three days? Whither are you going now?

Dor. I was wondering if you had any thing new to offer.

Ant. (apart, to Geta.) I’m afraid for this Procurer, lest——

Geta (apart, to Antipho.) Something may befall his own safety.59

Phæd. You don’t believe me?

Dor. You guess right.

Phæd. But if I pledge my word.

Dor. Nonsense!

Phæd. You will have reason to say that this kindness was well laid out by you on interest.

Dor. Stuff!

Phæd. Believe me, you will be glad you did so; upon my faith, it is the truth.

Dor. Mere dreams!

Phæd. Do but try; the time is not long.

Dor. The same story over again.

Phæd. You will be my kinsman, my father, my friend; you——

Dor. Now, do prate on.

Phæd. For you to be of a disposition so harsh and inexorable, that neither by pity nor by entreaties can you be softened!

Dor. For you to be of a disposition so unreasonable and so unconscionable, Phædria, that you can be talking me over with fine words,60 and be for amusing yourself with what’s my property for nothing!

Ant. (apart, to Geta.) I am sorry for him.

Phæd. (aside.) Alas! I feel it to be too true.

Geta (apart, to Antipho.) How well each keeps up to his character!

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Phæd. (to himself.) And would that this misfortune had not befallen me at a time when Antipho was occupied with other cares as well.

Ant. (coming forward.) Ah Phædria, why, what is the matter?

Phæd. O most fortunate Antipho!

Ant. What, I?

Phæd. To have in your possession the object of your love, and have no occasion to encounter such a nuisance as this.

Ant. What I, in my possession? Why yes, as the saying is, I’ve got a wolf by the ears;61 for I neither know how to get rid of her, nor yet how to keep her.

Dor. That’s just my case with regard to him (pointing to Phædria).

Ant. (to Dorio.) Aye, aye, don’t you show too little of the Procurer. (To Phædria.) What has he been doing?

Phæd. What, he? Acting the part of a most inhuman fellow; been and sold my Pamphila.

Geta. What! Sold her?

Ant. Sold her, say you?

Phæd. Sold her.

Dor. (ironically.) What a shocking crime—a wench bought with one’s own money!

Phæd. I can not prevail upon him to wait for me the next three days, and so far break off the bargain with the person, while I get the money from my friends, which has been promised me; if I don’t give it him then, let him not wait a single hour longer.

Dor. Very good.

Ant. It’s not a long time that he asks, Dorio; do let him prevail upon you; he’ll pay you two-fold for having acted to him thus obligingly.

Dor. Mere words!

Ant. Will you allow Pamphila to be carried away from this place? And then, besides, can you possibly allow their love to be severed asunder?

Dor. Neither I nor you cause that.

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Geta. May all the Gods grant you what you are deserving of!

Dor. I have borne with you for several months quite against my inclination; promising and whimpering, and yet bringing nothing; now, on the other hand, I have found one to pay, and not be sniveling; give place to your betters.

Ant. I’ faith, there surely was a day named, if I remember right, for you to pay him.

Phæd. It is the fact.

Dor. Do I deny it?

Ant. Is that day past, then?

Dor. No; but this one has come before it.

Ant. Are you not ashamed of your perfidy?

Dor. Not at all, so long as it is for my interest.

Geta. Dunghill!

Phæd. Dorio, is it right, pray, for you to act thus?

Dor. It is my way; if I suit you, make use of me.

Ant. Do you try to trifle with him (pointing to Phædria) in this manner?

Dor. Why really, on the contrary, Antipho, it’s he trifling with me, for he knew me to be a person of this sort; I supposed him to be quite a different man; he has deceived me; I’m not a bit different to him from what I was before. But however that may be, I’ll yet do this; the captain has said, that to-morrow morning he will pay me the money; if you bring it me before that, Phædria, I’ll follow my rule, that he is the first served who is the first to pay. Farewell!

Goes into his house.

Scene VI.

Phædria, Antipho, and Geta.

Phæd. What am I to do? Wretch that I am! where am I now in this emergency to raise the money for him, I, who am worse than nothing? If it had been possible for these three days to be obtained of him, it was promised me by then.

Ant. Geta, shall we suffer him to continue thus wretched, when he so lately assisted me in the kind way you were mentioning? On the contrary, why not, as there’s need of it, try to do him a kindness in return?

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Geta. For my part, I’m sure it is but fair.

Ant. Come then, you are the only man able to serve him.

Geta. What can I do?

Ant. Procure the money.

Geta. I wish I could; but where it is to come from—tell me that.

Ant. My father has come home.

Geta. I know; but what of that?

Ant. Oh, a word to the wise62 is quite enough.

Geta. Is that it, then?

Ant. Just so.

Geta. Upon my faith, you really do give me fine advice; out upon you! Ought I not to be heartily glad, if I meet with no mishap through your marriage, but what, in addition to that, you must now bid me, for his sake, to be seeking risk upon risk?

Ant. ’Tis true what he says.

Phæd. What! am I a stranger to you, Geta?

Geta. I don’t consider you so. But is it so trifling a matter that the old gentleman is now vexed with us all, that we must provoke him still more, and leave no room for entreaty?

Phæd. Is another man to take her away from before my eyes to some unknown spot? Alas! speak to me then, Antipho, and look upon me while you have the opportunity, and while I’m present.

Ant. Why so, or what are you going to do? Pray, tell me.

Phæd. To whatever part of the world she is borne away, I’m determined to follow her or to perish.

Geta. May the Gods prosper your design! Cautiously’s the word, however.

Ant. (to Geta.) Do see if you can give him any assistance at all.

Geta. Any at all—how?

Ant. Pray, do try, that he mayn’t be doing something that we may afterward be more or less sorry for, Geta.

Geta. I’m considering. (He pauses.) He’s all safe, so far as I can guess: but still, I’m afraid of mischief.

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Ant. Don’t be afraid: together with you, we’ll share good and bad.

Geta. (to Phædria.) How much money do you want? Tell me.

Phæd. Only thirty minæ.

Geta. Thirty? Heyday! she’s monstrous dear, Phædria.

Phæd. Indeed, she’s very cheap.

Geta. Well, well, I’ll get them for you.

Phæd. Oh the dear man! (They both fall to hugging Geta.)

Geta. Take yourselves off. (Shakes them off.)

Phæd. There’s need for them directly.

Geta. You shall have them directly; but I must have Phormio for my assistant in this business.

Ant. He’s quite ready; right boldly lay on him any load you like, he’ll bear it: he, in especial, is a friend to his friend.

Geta. Let’s go to him at once then.

Ant. Will you have any occasion for my assistance?

Geta. None; but be off home, and comfort that poor thing, who I am sure is now in-doors almost dead with fear. Do you linger?

Ant. There’s nothing I could do with so much pleasure.

Goes into the house of Demipho.

Phæd. What way will you manage this?

Geta. I’ll tell you on the road; first thing, betake yourself off.

Exeunt.

ACT THE THIRD.

Scene I.

Enter Demipho and Chremes.

Dem. Well, have you brought your daughter with you, Chremes, for whom you went to Lemnos?

Chrem. No.

Dem. Why not?

Chrem. When her mother found that I staid here longer than usual, and at the same time the age of the girl did not 335 suit with my delays, they told me that she, with all her family, set out in search of me.

Dem. Pray, then, why did you stay there so long, when you had heard of this?

Chrem. Why, faith, a malady detained me.

Dem. From what cause? Or what was it?

Chrem. Do you ask me? Old age itself is a malady. However, I heard that they had arrived safe, from the captain who brought them.

Dem. Have you heard, Chremes, what has happened to my son in my absence?

Chrem. ’Tis that, in fact, that has embarrassed me in my plans. For if I offer my daughter in marriage to any person that’s a stranger, it must all be told how and by whom I had her. You I knew to be fully as faithful to me as I am to myself; if a stranger shall think fit to be connected with me by marriage, he will hold his tongue, just as long as good terms exist between us: but if he takes a dislike to me, he’ll be knowing more than it’s proper he should know. I am afraid, too, lest my wife should, by some means, come to know of it; if that is the case, it only remains for me to shake myself63 and leave the house; for I’m the only one I can rely on at home.64

Dem. I know it is so, and that circumstance is a cause of anxiety to me; and I shall never cease trying, until I’ve made good what I promised you.

Scene II.

Enter Geta, on the other side of the stage, not seeing Demipho or Chremes.

Geta. (to himself.) I never saw a more cunning fellow than this Phormio. I came to the fellow to tell him that money 336 was needed, and by what means it might be procured. Hardly had I said one half, when he understood me; he was quite delighted; complimented me; asked where the old man was; gave thanks to the Gods that an opportunity was afforded him for showing himself no less a friend to Phædria than to Antipho: I bade the fellow wait for me at the Forum; whither I would bring the old gentleman. But see, here’s the very man (catching sight of the Old Man). Who is the further one? Heyday, Phædria’s father has got back! still, brute beast that I am, what was I afraid of? Is it because two are presented instead of one for me to dupe? I deem it preferable to enjoy a two-fold hope. I’ll try for it from him from whom I first intended: if he gives it me, well and good; if I can make nothing of him, then I’ll attack this new-comer.

Scene III.

Enter Antipho from the house, behind at a distance.

Ant. (to himself.) I’m expecting every moment that Geta will be here. But I see my uncle standing close by, with my father. Ah me! how much I fear what influence his return may have upon my father!

Geta. (to himself.) I’ll accost them. (Goes up to them.) O welcome to you, our neighbor Chremes.

Chrem. Save you, Geta.

Geta. I’m delighted to see you safe returned.

Chrem. I believe you.

Geta. How go matters?

Chrem. Many changes here upon my arrival, as usually the case.

Geta. True; have you heard what has happened to Antipho?

Chrem. All.

Geta. (to Demipho.) What, have you told him? Disgraceful conduct, Chremes, thus to be imposed on.

Dem. It was about that I was talking to him just now.

Geta. But really, on carefully reflecting upon this matter I think I have found a remedy.

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Dem. What is the remedy?

Geta. When I left you, by accident Phormio met me.

Chrem. Who is Phormio?

Geta. He who patronized her.

Chrem. I understand.

Geta. It seemed to me that I might first sound him; I took the fellow aside: “Phormio,” said I, “why don’t we try to settle these matters between us rather with a good grace than with a bad one? My master’s a generous man, and one who hates litigation; but really, upon my faith, all his friends were just now advising him with one voice to turn her instantly out of doors.”

Ant. (apart.) What is he about? Or where is this to end at last?

Geta (continuing the supposed conversation.) “He’ll have to give satisfaction at law, you say, if he turns her out? That has been already inquired into: aye, aye, you’ll have enough to do, if you engage with him; he is so eloquent. But suppose he’s beaten; still, however, it’s not his life, but his money that’s at stake.” After I found that the fellow was influenced by these words, I said: “We are now by ourselves here; come now, what should you like to be given you, money down, to drop this suit with my master, so that she may betake herself off, and you annoy us no more?”

Ant. (apart.) Are the Gods quite on good terms with him?65

Geta (continuing the conversation.) “For I’m quite sure, if you were to mention any thing that’s fair and reasonable, as he is a reasonable man, you’ll not have to bandy three words with him.”

Dem. Who ordered you to say so?

Chrem. Nay, he could not have more happily contrived to bring about what we want.

Ant. (apart.) Undone!

Chrem. Go on with your story.

Geta. At first the fellow raved.

Dem. Say, what did he ask?

Geta. What? A great deal too much.

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Chrem. How much? Tell me.

Geta. Suppose he were to give a great talent.

Dem. Aye, faith, perdition to him rather; has he no shame?

Geta. Just what I said to him: “Pray,” said I, “suppose he was portioning an only daughter of his own. It has been of little benefit that he hasn’t one of his own, when another has been found to be demanding a fortune.” To be brief, and to pass over his impertinences, this at last was his final answer: “I,” said he, “from the very first, have been desirous to marry the daughter of my friend, as was fit I should; for I was aware of the ill results of this, a poor wife being married into a rich family, and becoming a slave. But, as I am now conversing with you unreservedly, I was in want of a wife to bring me a little money with which to pay off my debts; and even yet, if Demipho is willing to give as much as I am to receive with her to whom I am engaged, there is no one whom I should better like for a wife.”

Ant. (apart.) Whether to say he’s doing this through folly or mischief, through stupidity or design, I’m in doubt.

Dem. What if he’s in debt to the amount of his life?66

Geta. His land is mortgaged,—for ten minæ he said.

Dem. Well, well, let him take her then; I’ll give it.

Geta. He has a house besides, mortgaged for another ten.

Dem. Huy, huy! that’s too much.

Chrem. Don’t be crying out; you may have those ten of me.

Geta. A lady’s maid must be brought for his wife; and then too, a little more is wanted for some furniture, and some is wanted for the wedding expenses. “Well then,” said he, “for these items, put down ten more.”

Dem. Then let him at once bring six hundred actions67 against me; I shall give nothing at all; is this dirty fellow to be laughing at me as well?

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Chrem. Pray do be quiet; I’ll give it: do you only bring your son to marry the woman we want him to have.

Ant. (apart.) Ah me! Geta, you have ruined me by your treachery.

Chrem. ’Tis on my account she’s turned off; it’s right that I should bear the loss.

Geta. “Take care and let me know,” said he, “as soon as possible, if they are going to let me have her, that I may get rid of the other, so that I mayn’t be in doubt; for the others have agreed to pay me down the portion directly.”

Chrem. Let him have her at once; let him give notice to them that he breaks off the match with the other, and let him marry this woman.

Dem. Yes, and little joy to him of the bargain!

Chrem. Luckily, too, I’ve now brought home some money with me, the rents which my wife’s farms at Lemnos produce. I’ll take it out of that, and tell my wife that you had occasion for it.

They go into the house of Chremes.

Scene IV.

Antipho and Geta.

Ant. (coming forward.) Geta.

Geta. Well.

Ant. What have you been doing?

Geta. Diddling the old fellows out of their money.

Ant. Is that quite the thing?

Geta. I’ faith, I don’t know: it’s just what I was told to do.

Ant. How now, whip-scoundrel, do you give me an answer to what I don’t ask you? (Kicks him.)

Geta. What was it then that you did ask?

Ant. What was it I did ask? Through your agency, matters have most undoubtedly come to the pass that I may go hang myself. May then all the Gods, Goddesses, Deities above and below, with every evil confound you! Look now, if you wish any thing to succeed, intrust it to him who may bring you from smooth water on to a rock. What was there less advantageous than to touch upon this sore, or to name 340 my wife? Hopes have been excited in my father that she may possibly be got rid of. Pray now, tell me, suppose Phormio receives the portion, she must be taken home by him as his wife: what’s to become of me?

Geta. But he’s not going to marry her.

Ant. I know that. But (ironically) when they demand the money back, of course, for our sake, he’ll prefer going to prison.

Geta. There is nothing, Antipho, but what it may be made worse by being badly told: you leave out what is good, and you mention the bad. Now then, hear the other side: if he receives the money, she must be taken as his wife, you say; I grant you; still, some time at least will be allowed for preparing for the nuptials, for inviting, and for sacrificing. In the mean time, Phædria’s friends will advance what they have promised; out of that he will repay it.

Ant. On what grounds? Or what will he say?

Geta. Do you ask the question? “How many circumstances, since then, have befallen me as prodigies? A strange black dog68 entered the house; a snake came down from the tiles through the sky-light;69 a hen crowed;70 the soothsayer forbade it; the diviner71 warned me not: besides, before winter there is no sufficient reason for me to commence upon any new undertaking.” This will be the case.

Ant. I only wish it may be the case.

Geta. It shall be the case; trust me for that. Your father’s coming out; go tell Phædria that the money is found.

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Scene V.

Enter Demipho and Chremes, from the house of the latter, the former with a purse of money.

Dem. Do be quiet, I tell you; I’ll take care he shall not be playing any tricks upon us. I’ll not rashly part with this without having my witnesses; I’ll have it stated to whom I pay it, and for what purpose I pay it.

Geta. (apart.) How cautious he is, when there’s no need for it!

Chrem. Why yes, you had need do so, and with all haste, while the fit is upon him; for if this other woman shall prove more pressing, perhaps he may throw us over.

Geta. You’ve hit upon the very thing.

Dem. Lead me to him then.

Geta. I won’t delay.

Chrem. (to Demipho.) When you’ve done so, go over to my wife, that she may call upon her before she goes away. She must tell her that we are going to give her in marriage to Phormio, that she may not be angry with us; and that he is a fitter match for her, as knowing more of her; that we have in no way departed from our duty; that as much has been given for a portion as he asked for.

Dem. What the plague does that matter to you?

Chrem. A great deal, Demipho. It is not enough for you to do your duty, if common report does not approve of it; I wish all this to be done with her own sanction as well, that she mayn’t be saying that she has been turned out of doors.

Dem. I can do all that myself.

Chrem. It will come better from one woman to another.

Dem. I’ll ask her.

Goes into the house of Chremes; and exit Geta.

Chrem. (to himself.) I’m thinking where I can find them now.72

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Scene VI.

Enter Sophrona from the house of Demipho, at a distance.

Soph. (to herself.) What am I to do? What friend, in my distress, shall I find, to whom to disclose these plans; and where shall I look for relief? For I’m afraid that my mistress, in consequence of my advice, may undeservingly sustain some injury, so extremely ill do I hear that the young man’s father takes what has happened.

Chrem. (apart, to himself.) But what old woman’s this, that has come out of my brother’s house, half dead with fright?

Soph. (to herself, continuing.) It was distress that compelled me to this step, though I knew that the match was not likely to hold good; my object was, that in the mean time life might be supported.

Chrem. (apart, to himself.) Upon my faith, surely, unless my recollection deceives me, or my sight’s not very good, I espy my daughter’s nurse.73

Soph. (to herself.) And we are not able to find——

Chrem. (apart.) What must I do?

Soph. (to herself.) Her father.

Chrem. (to himself, apart.) Shall I accost her, or shall I wait to learn more distinctly what it is she’s saying?

Soph. (to herself.) If now I could find him, there’s nothing that I should be in fear of.

Chrem. (apart, to himself, aloud.) ’Tis the very woman. I’ll address her.

Soph. (turning round.) Who’s that speaking here?

Chrem. (coming forward.) Sophrona.

Soph. Mentioning my name, too?

Chrem. Look round at me.

Soph. (seeing him.) Ye Gods, I do beseech you, isn’t this Stilpho?

Chrem. No.

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Soph. Do you deny it?

Chrem. (in a low voice.) Step a little this way from that door, Sophrona, if you please (pointing). Don’t you, henceforth, be calling me by that name.

Soph. Why? Pray, are you not the person you always used to say you were?

Chrem. Hush! (pointing to his own house.)

Soph. Why are you afraid about that door?

Chrem. (in a low voice.) I have got a shrew of a wife shut up there. For by that name I formerly falsely called myself, in order that you might not chance indiscreetly to blab it out of doors, and then my wife, by some means or other, might come to know of it.

Soph. I’ faith, that’s the very reason why we, wretched creatures, have never been able to find you out here.

Chrem. Well, but tell me, what business have you with that family from whose house you were coming out? Where are the ladies?74

Soph. Ah, wretched me!

Chrem. Hah! What’s the matter? Are they still alive?

Soph. Your daughter is alive. Her poor mother died of grief.

Chrem. An unfortunate thing!

Soph. As for me, being a lone old woman, in want, and unknown, I contrived, as well as I could, to get the young woman married to the young man who is master of this house (pointing).

Chrem. What! to Antipho?

Soph. The very same, I say.

Chrem. What? Has he got two wives?

Soph. Dear no, prithee, he has only got this one.

Chrem. What about the other one that’s called his relative?

Soph. Why, this is she.

Chrem. What is it you say?

Soph. It was done on purpose, in order that her lover might be enabled to marry her without a portion.

Chrem. Ye Gods, by our trust in you! How often do those things come about through accident, which you couldn’t dare 344 to hope for? On my return, I have found my daughter matched with the very person I wished, and just as I wanted; a thing that we were both using our endeavors, with the greatest earnestness, to bring about. Without any very great management on our part, by her own management, she has by herself brought this about.

Soph. Now consider what’s to be done. The young man’s father has returned, and they say that he bears this with feelings highly offended.

Chrem. There’s no danger of that. But, by Gods and men, do take care that no one comes to know that she’s my daughter.

Soph. No one shall know it from me.

Chrem. Follow me; in-doors we’ll hear the rest.

He goes into Demipho’s house, followed by Sophrona.

ACT THE FOURTH.

Scene I.

Enter Demipho and Geta.

Dem. ’Tis caused by our own fault, that it is advantageous to be dishonest; while we wish ourselves to be styled very honest and generous. “So run away as not to run beyond the house,”75 as the saying is. Was it not enough to receive an injury from him, but money must be voluntarily offered him as well, that he may have something on which to subsist while he plans some other piece of roguery?

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Geta. Most clearly so.

Dem. They now get rewarded for it, who confound right with wrong.

Geta. Most undoubtedly.

Dem. How very foolishly, in fact, we have managed the affair with him!

Geta. If by these means we can only manage for him to marry her.

Dem. Is that, then, a matter of doubt?

Geta. I’ faith, judging from what the fellow is, I don’t know whether he mightn’t change his mind.

Dem. How! change it indeed?

Geta. I don’t know: but “if perhaps,” I say.

Dem. I’ll do as my brother advised me, bring hither his wife, to talk with her. Do you, Geta, go before; tell her that Nausistrata is about to visit her.

Demipho goes into the house of Chremes.

Scene II.

Geta, alone.

Geta. The money’s been got for Phædria; it’s all hushed about the lawsuit; due care has been taken that she’s not to leave for the present. What next, then? What’s to be done? You are still sticking in the mud. You are paying by borrowing;76 the evil that was at hand, has been put off for a day. The toils are increasing upon you, if you don’t look out. Now I’ll away home, and tell Phanium not to be afraid of Nausistrata, or his talking.77

Goes into the house of Demipho.

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Scene III.

Enter Demipho and Nausistrata, from the house of Chremes.

Dem. Come now, Nausistrata, after your usual way, manage to keep her in good-humor with us, and make her do of her own accord what must be done.

Naus. I will.

Dem. You are now seconding me with your endeavors, just as you assisted me with your money78 before.

Naus. I wish to do so; and yet, i’ faith, through the fault of my husband, I am less able than I ought to be.

Dem. Why so?

Naus. Because, i’ faith, he takes such indifferent care of the property that was so industriously acquired by my father; for from those farms he used regularly to receive two talents of silver yearly; there’s an instance, how superior one man is to another.

Dem. Two talents, pray?

Naus. Aye, and when things were much worse, two talents even.

Dem. Whew!

Naus. What! does this seem surprising?

Dem. Of course it does.

Naus. I wish I had been born a man; I’d have shown——

Dem. That I’m quite sure of.

Naus. In what way——

Dem. Forbear, pray, that you may be able to do battle with her; lest she, being a young woman, may be more than a match for you.

Naus. I’ll do as you bid me; but I see my husband coming out of your house.

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Scene IV.

Enter Chremes, hastily, from Demipho’s house.

Chrem. Ha! Demipho, has the money been paid him yet?

Dem. I took care immediately.

Chrem. I wish it hadn’t been paid him. (On seeing Nausistrata, aside.) Halloo, I espy my wife; I had almost said more than I ought.

Dem. Why do you wish I hadn’t, Chremes?

Chrem. It’s all right.

Dem. What say you? Have you been letting her know why we are going to bring her? (pointing to Nausistrata.)

Chrem. I’ve arranged it.

Dem. Pray, what does she say?

Chrem. She can’t be got to leave.

Dem. Why can’t she?

Chrem. Because they are fond of one another.

Dem. What’s that to us?

Chrem. (apart, to Demipho.) A great deal; besides that, I’ve found out that she is related to us.

Dem. (apart.) What! You are mad, surely.

Chrem. (apart.) So you will find; I don’t speak at random; I’ve recovered my recollection.

Dem. (apart.) Are you quite in your senses?

Chrem. (apart.) Nay, prithee, do take care not to injure your kinswoman.

Dem. (apart.) She is not.

Chrem. (apart.) Don’t deny it; her father went by another name; that was the cause of your mistake.

Dem. (apart.) Did she not know who was her father?

Chrem. (apart.) She did.

Dem. (apart.) Why did she call him by another name?

Chrem. (apart, frowning.) Will you never yield to me, nor understand what I mean?

Dem. (apart.) If you don’t tell me of any thing——

Chrem. (impatiently.) Do you persist?

Naus. I wonder what all this can be.

Dem. For my part, upon my faith, I don’t know.

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Chrem. (whispering to him.) Would you like to know? Then, so may Jupiter preserve me, not a person is there more nearly related to her than are you and I.

Dem. (starting.) Ye Gods, by our trust in you! let’s away to her; I wish for all of us, one way or other, to be sure about this (going).

Chrem. (stopping him.) Ah!

Dem. What’s the matter?

Chrem. That you should put so little confidence in me!

Dem. Do you wish me to believe you? Do you wish me to consider this as quite certain? Very well, be it so. Well, what’s to be done with our friend’s79 daughter?

Chrem. She’ll do well enough.

Dem. Are we to drop her, then?

Chrem. Why not?

Dem. The other one to stop?

Chrem. Just so.

Dem. You may go then, Nausistrata.

Naus. I’ faith, I think it better for all that she should remain here as it is, than as you first intended; for she seemed to me a very genteel person when I saw her.

Goes into her house.

Scene V.

Demipho and Chremes.

Dem. What is the meaning of all this?

Chrem. (looking at the door of his house.) Has she shut the door yet?

Dem. Now she has.

Chrem. O Jupiter! the Gods do befriend us; I have found that it is my daughter married to your son.

Dem. Ha! How can that possibly be?

Chrem. This spot is not exactly suited for me to tell it you.

Dem. Well then, step in-doors.

Chrem. Hark you, I don’t wish our sons even to come to know of this.

They go into Demipho’s house.

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Scene VI.

Enter Antipho.

Ant. I’m glad that, however my own affairs go, my brother has succeeded in his wishes. How wise it is to cherish desires of that nature in the mind, that when things run counter, you may easily find a cure for them! He has both got the money, and released himself from care; I, by no method, can extricate myself from these troubles; on the contrary, if the matter is concealed, I am in dread—but if disclosed, in disgrace. Neither should I now go home, were not a hope still presented me of retaining her. But where, I wonder, can I find Geta, that I may ask him what opportunity he would recommend me to take for meeting my father?

Scene VII.

Enter Phormio, at a distance.

Phor. (to himself.) I received the money; handed it over to the Procurer; brought away the woman, that Phædria might have her as his own—for she has now become free. Now there is one thing still remaining for me to manage,—to get a respite from the old gentlemen for carousing; for I’ll enjoy myself the next few days.

Ant. But here’s Phormio. (Going up to him.) What have you to say?

Phor. About what?

Ant. Why—what’s Phædria going to do now? In what way does he say that he intends to take his fill of love?

Phor. In his turn, he’s going to act your part.

Ant. What part?

Phor. To run away from his father; he begs that you in your return will act on his behalf—to plead his cause for him. For he’s going to carouse at my house. I shall tell the old man that I’m going to Sunium, to the fair, to purchase the female servant that Geta mentioned a while since, so that, 350 when they don’t see me here, they mayn’t suppose that I’m squandering their money. But there is a noise at the door of your house.

Ant. See who’s coming out.

Phor. It’s Geta.

Scene VIII.

Enter Geta, at a distance, hastily, from the house of Demipho.

Geta. (to himself.) O fortune! O good luck!80 with blessings how great, how suddenly hast thou loaded this day with thy favors to my master Antipho!—

Ant. (apart to Phormio.) I wonder what it is he means.

Geta. (continuing.) And relieved us, his friends, from alarm; but I’m now delaying, in not throwing my cloak81 over my shoulder (throws it over his shoulder), and making haste to find him, that he may know what has happened.

Ant. (apart to Phormio.) Do you understand what he’s talking about?

Phor. (apart to Antipho.) Do you?

Ant. (apart to Phormio.) Not at all.

Phor. (apart to Antipho.) And I just as much.

Geta. (to himself.) I’ll be off hence to the Procurer’s; they are there just now. (Runs along.)

Ant. (calling out.) Halloo! Geta!

Geta. (still running.) There’s for you. Is it any thing new or wonderful to be called back, directly you’ve started?

Ant. Geta!

Geta. Do you persist? Troth, you shall not on this occasion get the better of me by your annoyance.

Ant. (running after him.) Won’t you stop?

Geta. You’ll be getting a beating.

Ant. Assuredly that will befall yourself just now unless you stop, you whip-knave.

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Geta. This must be some one pretty familiar, threatening me with a beating. (Turns round.) But is it the person I’m in search of or not? ’Tis the very man! Up to him at once.

Ant. What’s the matter?

Geta. O being most blessed of all men living! For without question, Antipho, you are the only favorite of the Gods.

Ant. So I could wish; but I should like to be told why I’m to believe it is so.

Geta. Is it enough if I plunge you into a sea of joy?

Ant. You are worrying me to death.

Phor. Nay but do have done with your promises, and tell us what you bring.

Geta. (looking round.) Oh, are you here too, Phormio?

Phor. I am: but why do you delay?

Geta. Listen, then. When we just now paid you the money at the Forum, we went straight to Chremes; in the mean time, my master sent me to your wife.

Ant. What for?

Geta. I’ll omit telling you that, as it is nothing to the present purpose, Antipho. Just as I was going to the woman’s apartments, the boy Mida came running up to me, and caught me behind by my cloak, and pulled me back; I turned about, and inquired for what reason he stopped me; he said that it was forbidden for any one to go in to his mistress. “Sophrona has just now,” said he, “introduced here Chremes, the old gentleman’s brother,” and he said that he was then in the room with them: when I heard this, on tip-toe I stole softly along; I came there, stood, held my breath, I applied my ear, and so began to listen, catching the conversation every word in this fashion (shows them).

Ant. Well done, Geta.

Geta. Here I overheard a very pretty piece of business; so much so that I had nearly cried out for joy.

Ant. What was it?

Geta. (laughing.) What do you think?

Ant. I don’t know.

Geta. Why, something most marvelous. Your uncle has been discovered to be the father of your wife, Phanium.

Ant. (starting.) Ha! what’s that you say?

Geta. He formerly cohabited secretly with her mother at Lemnos.

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Phor. A dream: how could she be ignorant about her own father?

Geta. Be sure, Phormio, that there is some reason: but do you suppose that, outside of the door, I was able to understand every thing that passed between them within?

Ant. On my faith, I too have heard the same story.

Geta. Aye, and I’ll give you still further reason for believing it: your uncle in the mean time came out from there; not long after he returned again, with your father; each said that he gave you permission to retain her; in fine, I’ve been sent to find you, and bring you to them.

Ant. Why then carry me off82 at once;—why do you delay?

Geta. I’ll do so.

Ant. O my dear Phormio, farewell!

Phor. Farewell, Antipho.

Antipho and Geta go into Demipho’s house.

Scene IX.

Phormio, alone.

Phor. So may the Gods bless me, this has turned out luckily. I’m glad of it, that such good fortune has thus suddenly befallen them. I have now an excellent opportunity for diddling the old men, and ridding Phædria of all anxiety about the money, so that he mayn’t be under the necessity of applying to any of his companions. For this same money, as it has been given him, shall be given for good, whether they like it or not: how to force them to this, I’ve found out the very way. I must now assume a new air and countenance. But I’ll betake myself off to this next alley; from that spot I’ll present myself to them, when they come 353 out of doors. I sha’n’t go to the fair, where I pretended I was going.

He retires into the alley.

ACT THE FIFTH.

Scene I.

Enter Demipho and Chremes, from Demipho’s house.

Dem. I do give and return hearty thanks to the Gods, and with reason, brother, inasmuch as these matters have turned out for us so fortunately. We must now meet with Phormio as soon as possible, before he squanders our thirty minæ, so that we may get them from him.

Enter Phormio, coming forward, and speaking aloud, as though not seeing them.

Phor. I’ll go see if Demipho’s at home; that as to what83

Dem. (accosting him.) Why, Phormio, we were coming to you.

Phor. Perhaps about the very same affair. (Demipho nods assent.) I’ faith, I thought so. What were you coming to my house for? Ridiculous; are you afraid that I sha’n’t do what I have once undertaken? Hark you, whatever is my poverty, still, of this one thing I have taken due care, not to forfeit my word.

Chrem. (to Demipho.) Is she not genteel-looking,84 just as I told you?

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Dem. Very much so.

Phor. And this is what I’m come to tell you, Demipho, that I’m quite ready; whenever you please, give me my wife. For I postponed all my other business, as was fit I should, when I understood that you were so very desirous to have it so.

Dem. (pointing to Chremes.) But he has dissuaded me from giving her to you. “For what,” says he, “will be the talk among people if you do this? Formerly, when she might have been handsomely disposed of, then she wasn’t given; now it’s a disgrace for her to be turned out of doors, a repudiated woman;” pretty nearly, in fact, all the reasons which you yourself, some little time since, were urging to me.

Phor. Upon my faith, you are treating me in a very insulting manner.

Dem. How so?

Phor. Do you ask me? Because I shall not be able to marry the other person I mentioned; for with what face shall I return to her whom I’ve slighted?

Chrem. Then besides, I see that Antipho is unwilling to part with her. (Aside, prompting Demipho.) Say so.

Dem. Then besides, I see that my son is very unwilling to part with the damsel. But have the goodness to step over to the Forum, and order this money to be transferred to my account,85 Phormio.

Phor. What, when I’ve paid it over to the persons to whom I was indebted?

Dem. What’s to be done, then?

Phor. If you will let me have her for a wife, as you promised, I’ll take her; but if you prefer that she should stay with you, the portion must stay with me, Demipho. For it isn’t fair that I should be misled for you, as it was for your own sakes that I broke off with the other woman, who was to have brought me a portion just as large.

Dem. Away with you to utter perdition, with this swaggering, you vagabond. What, then, do you fancy we don’t know you, or your doings?

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Phor. You are provoking me.

Dem. Would you have married her, if she had been given to you?

Phor. Try the experiment.

Dem. That my son might cohabit with her at your house, that was your design.

Phor. Pray, what is that you say?

Dem. Then do you give me my money?

Phor. Nay, but do you give me my wife?

Dem. Come before a magistrate. (Going to seize hold of him.)

Phor. Why, really, if you persist in being troublesome——

Dem. What will you do?

Phor. What, I? You fancy, perhaps, just now, that I am the protector of the portionless; for the well portioned,86 I’m in the habit of being so as well.

Chrem. What’s that to us?

Phor. (with a careless air.) Nothing at all. I know a certain lady here (pointing at Chremes’s house) whose husband had——

Chrem. (starting.) Ha!

Dem. What’s the matter?

Phor. Another wife at Lemnos—

Chrem. (aside.) I’m ruined!

Phor. By whom he had a daughter; and her he is secretly bringing up.

Chrem. (aside.) I’m dead and buried!

Phor. This I shall assuredly now inform her of. (Walks toward the house.)

Chrem. (running and catching hold of him.) I beg of you, don’t do so.

Phor. (with a careless air.) Oh, were you the person?

Dem. What a jest he’s making of us.

Chrem. (to Phormio.) We’ll let you off.

Phor. Nonsense.

Chrem. What would you have? We’ll forgive you the money you’ve got.

Phor. I hear you. Why the plague, then, do you two trifle with me in this way, you silly men, with your childish 356 speeches—“I won’t, and I will; I will, and I won’t,” over again: “keep it, give it me back; what has been said, is unsaid; what had been just a bargain, is now no bargain.”

Chrem. (aside, to Demipho.) In what manner, or from whom has he come to know of this?

Dem. (aside.) I don’t know; but that I’ve told it to no one, I know for certain.

Chrem. (aside.) So may the Gods bless me, ’tis as good as a miracle.

Phor. (aside, to himself.) I’ve graveled them.

Dem. (apart, to Chremes.) Well now, is he to be carrying off87 from us such a sum of money as this, and so palpably to impose upon us? By heavens, I’d sooner die. Manage to show yourself of resolute and ready wit. You see that this slip of yours has got abroad, and that you can not now possibly conceal it from your wife; it is then more conducive to our quiet, Chremes, ourselves to disclose what she will be hearing from others; and then, in our own fashion, we shall be able to take vengeance upon this dirty fellow.

Phor. (aside, to himself.) Good lack-a-day, now’s the sticking-point, if I don’t look out for myself. They are making toward me with a gladiatorial air.

Chrem. (apart, to Demipho.) But I doubt whether it’s possible for her to be appeased.

Dem. (apart, to Chremes.) Be of good courage; I’ll effect a reconciliation between you; remembering this, Chremes, that she is dead88 and gone by whom you had this girl.

Phor. (in a loud voice.) Is this the way you are going to deal with me? Very cleverly done. Come on with you. By heavens, Demipho, you have provoked me, not to his advantage (pointing at Chremes). How say you? (addressing Chremes). When you’ve been doing abroad just as you pleased, and have had no regard for this excellent lady here, 357 but on the contrary, have been injuring her in an unheard-of manner, would you be coming to me with prayers to wash away your offenses? On telling her of this, I’ll make her so incensed with you, that you sha’n’t quench her, though you should melt away into tears.

Dem. (aside.) A plague may all the Gods and Goddesses send upon him. That any fellow should be possessed of so much impudence! Does not this villain deserve to be transported hence to some desolate land at the public charge?

Chrem. (aside.) I am brought to such a pass, that I really don’t know what to do in it.

Dem. I know; let’s go into court.

Phor. Into court? Here in preference (pointing to Chremes’s house), if it suits you in any way. (Moves toward the house.)

Dem. (to Chremes.) Follow him, and hold him back, till I call out the servants.

Chrem. (trying to seize Phormio.) But I can’t by myself; run and help me.

Phor. (to Demipho, who seizes hold of him.) There’s one action of damages against you.

Chrem. Sue him at law, then.

Phor. And another with you, Chremes.

Dem. Lay hold of him. (They both drag him.)

Phor. Is it thus you do? Why then I must exert my voice: Nausistrata, come out (calling aloud).

Chrem. (to Demipho.) Stop his mouth.

Dem. See how strong the rascal is.

Phor. (calling aloud.) Nausistrata, I say.

Chrem. Will you not hold your tongue?

Phor. Hold my tongue?

Dem. (to Chremes, as they drag him along.) If he won’t follow, plant your fists in his stomach.

Phor. Or e’en gouge out an eye. The time’s coming when I shall have a full revenge on you.

358
Scene II.

Enter Nausistrata, in haste, from the house.

Naus. Who calls my name?

Chrem. (in alarm.) Ha!

Naus. My husband, pray what means this disturbance?

Phor. (to Chremes.) Oh, oh, why are you mute now?

Naus. Who is this man? Won’t you answer me?

Phor. What, he to answer you? who, upon my faith, doesn’t know where he is.

Chrem. (to Nausistrata.) Take care how you believe that fellow in any thing.

Phor. (to Nausistrata.) Go, touch him; if he isn’t in a cold sweat all over, why then kill me.

Chrem. ’Tis nothing at all.

Naus. What is it, then, that this person is talking about?

Phor. You shall know directly; listen now.

Chrem. Are you resolved to believe him?

Naus. Pray, how can I believe him, when he has told me nothing?

Phor. The poor creature is distracted from fright.

Naus. It isn’t for nothing, i’ faith, that you are in such a fright.

Chrem. What, I in a fright?

Phor. (to Chremes.) All right, of course: since you are not in a fright at all, and this is nothing at all that I’m going to tell, do you relate it.

Dem. Villain, is he to relate it at your request?

Phor. (to Demipho.) Come now, you’ve managed nicely for your brother.

Naus. My husband, will you not tell me?

Chrem. But—

Naus. But what?

Chrem. There’s no need to tell you.

Phor. Not for you, indeed; but there’s need for her to know it. At Lemnos—

Chrem. (starting.) Ha! what are you doing?

359

Dem. (to Phormio.) Won’t you hold your tongue?

Phor. (to Nausistrata.) Unknown to you——

Chrem. Ah me!

Phor. He married another——

Naus. My dear sir, may the Gods forbid it!

Phor. Such is the fact.

Naus. Wretch that I am, I’m undone!

Phor. And had a daughter by her, too, while you never dreamed of it.

Chrem. What are we to do?

Naus. O immortal Gods!—a disgraceful and a wicked misdeed!

Dem. (aside, to Chremes.) It’s all up with you.

Phor. Was ever any thing now more ungenerously done? Your men, who, when they come to their wives, then become incapacitated from old age.

Naus. Demipho, I appeal to you; for with that man it is irksome for me to speak. Were these those frequent journeys and long visits at Lemnos? Was this the lowness of prices that reduced our rents?

Dem. Nausistrata, I don’t deny that in this matter he has been deserving of censure; but still, it may be pardoned.

Phor. (apart.) He is talking to the dead.

Dem. For he did this neither through neglect or aversion to yourself. About fifteen years since, in a drunken fit, he had an intrigue with this poor woman, of whom this girl was born, nor did he ever touch her afterward. She is dead and gone: the only difficulty that remained in this matter. Wherefore, I do beg of you, that, as in other things, you’ll bear this with patience.

Naus. Why should I with patience? I could wish, afflicted as I am, that there were an end now of this matter. But how can I hope? Am I to suppose that, at his age, he will not offend in future? Was he not an old man then, if old age makes people behave themselves decently? Are my looks and my age more attractive now, Demipho? What do you advance to me, to make me expect or hope that this will not happen any more?

Phor. (in a loud voice.) Those who have89 a mind to come 360 to the funeral of Chremes, why now’s their time. ’Tis thus I retaliate: come now, let him challenge Phormio who pleases: I’ll have him victimized90 with just a like mischance. Why then, let him return again into her good graces. I have now had revenge enough. She has got something for her as long as she lives, to be forever ringing into his ears.

Naus. But it was because I deserved this, I suppose; why should I now, Demipho, make mention of each particular, how I have conducted myself toward him?

Dem. I know it all, as well as yourself.

Naus. Does it appear, then, that I deserved this treatment?

Dem. Far from it: but since, by reproaching, it can not now be undone, forgive him: he entreats you—he begs your pardon—owns his fault—makes an apology. What would you have more?

Phor. (aside.) But really, before she grants pardon to him, I must take care of myself and Phædria. (To Nausistrata.) Hark you, Nausistrata, before you answer him without thinking, listen to me.

Naus. What’s the matter?

Phor. I got out of him thirty minæ by a stratagem. I give them to your son; he paid them to a Procurer for his mistress.

Chrem. Ha! what is it you say?

Phor. (sneeringly.) Does it seem to you so very improper for your son, a young man, to keep one mistress, while you have two wives? Are you ashamed of nothing? With what face will you censure him? Answer me that.

Dem. He shall do as you wish.

Naus. Nay, that you may now know my determination. I neither forgive nor promise any thing, nor give any answer, 361 before I see my son: to his decision I leave every thing. What he bids me, I shall do.

Dem. You are a wise woman, Nausistrata.

Naus. Does that satisfy you, Chremes?

Chrem. Yes, indeed, I come off well, and fully to my satisfaction; indeed, beyond my expectation.

Naus. (to Phormio.) Do you tell me, what is your name?

Phor. What, mine? Phormio; a well-wisher to your family, upon my honor, and to your son Phaedria in particular.

Naus. Then, Phormio, on my word, henceforward I’ll both do and say for you all I can, and whatever you may desire.

Phor. You speak obligingly.

Naus. I’ faith, it is as you deserve.

Phor. First, then, will you do this, Nausistrata, at once, to please me, and to make your husband’s eyes ache with vexation?

Naus. With all my heart.

Phor. Invite me to dinner.

Naus. Assuredly indeed, I do invite you.

Dem. Let us now away in-doors.

Chrem. By all means; but where is Phaedria, our arbitrator?

Phor. I’ll have him here just now. (To the Audience.) Fare you well, and grant us your applause.91

362
ADDITIONAL SCENE.

Which is generally considered to be spurious.

Enter Phædria and Phormio, from opposite sides of the stage.

Phæd. Assuredly there is a God, who both hears and sees what we do. And I do not consider that to be true which is commonly said: “Fortune frames and fashions the affairs of mankind, just as she pleases.”

Phor. (aside.) Heyday! what means this? I’ve met with Socrates, not Phædria, so far as I see. Why hesitate to go up and address him? (Accosting him.) How now, Phædria, whence have you acquired this new wisdom, and derived such great delight, as you show by your countenance?

Phæd. O welcome, my friend; O most delightful Phormio, welcome! There’s not a person in all the world I could more wish just now to meet than yourself.

Phor. Pray, tell me what is the matter.

Phæd. Aye, faith, I have to beg of you, that you will listen to it. My Pamphila is a citizen of Attica, and of noble birth, and rich.

Phor. What is it you tell me? Are you dreaming, pray?

Phæd. Upon my faith, I’m saying what’s true.

Phor. Yes, and this, too, is a true saying: “You’ll have no great difficulty in believing that to be true, which you greatly wish to be so.”

Phæd. Nay, but do listen, I beg of you, to all the wonderful things I have to tell you of. It was while thinking of this to myself, that I just now burst forth into those expressions which you heard—that we, and what relates to us, are ruled by the sanction of the Gods, and not by blind chance.

Phor. I’ve been for some time in a state of suspense.

Phæd. Do you know Phanocrates?

Phor. As well as I do yourself.

Phæd. The rich man?

363

Phor. I understand.

Phæd. He is the father of Pamphila. Not to detain you, these were the circumstances: Calchas was his servant, a worthless, wicked fellow. Intending to run away from the house, he carried off this girl, whom her father was bringing up in the country, then five years old, and, secretly taking her with him to Eubæa, sold her to Lycus, a merchant. This person, a long time after, sold her, when now grown up, to Dorio. She, however, knew that she was the daughter of parents of rank, inasmuch as she recollected herself being attended and trained up by female servants: the name of her parents she didn’t recollect.

Phor. How, then, were they discovered?

Phæd. Stay; I was coming to that. This runaway was caught yesterday, and sent back to Phanocrates: he related the wonderful circumstances I have mentioned about the girl, and how she was sold to Lycus, and afterward to Dorio. Phanocrates sent immediately, and claimed his daughter; but when he learned that she had been sold, he came running to me.

Phor. O, how extremely fortunate!

Phæd. Phanocrates has no objection to my marrying her; nor has my father, I imagine.

Phor. Trust me for that; I’ll have all this matter managed for you; Phormio has so arranged it, that you shall not be a suppliant to your father, but his judge.

Phæd. You are joking.

Phor. So it is, I tell you. Do you only give me the thirty minæ which Dorio—

Phæd. You put me well in mind; I understand you; you may have them; for he must give them back, as the law forbids a free woman to be sold; and, on my faith, I do rejoice that an opportunity is afforded me of rewarding you, and taking a hearty vengeance upon him; a monster of a fellow! he has feelings more hardened than iron.

Phor. Now, Phædria, I return you thanks; I’ll make you a return upon occasion, if ever I have the opportunity. You impose a heavy task upon me, to be contending with you in good offices, as I can not in wealth; and in affection and zeal, I must repay you what I owe. To be surpassed in deserving well, is a disgrace to a man of principle.

364

Phæd. Services badly bestowed, I take to be disservices. But I do not know any person more grateful and more mindful of a service than yourself. What is it you were just now mentioning about my father?

Phor. There are many particulars, which at present I have not the opportunity to relate. Let’s go in-doors, for Nausistrata has invited me to dinner, and I’m afraid we may keep them waiting.

Phæd. Very well; follow me. (To the Audience.) Fare you well, and grant us your applause.


FOOTNOTES

1. From δημὸς, “the people,” and φῶς “light”.

2. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.

3. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.

4. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.

5. From φορμὸς, “an osier basket.”

6. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Adelphi.

7. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.

8. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Adelphi.

9. From κρατὸς, “strength.”

10. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.

11. From Doris, his country, a part of Caria.

12. From ναῦς, “a ship,” and στρατὸς, “an army.”

13. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.

14. The Roman Games)—The “ludi Romani,” or “Roman Games,” were first established by Ancus Marcius, and were celebrated in the month of September.

15. Four times)—The numerals signifying “four,” Donatus takes to mean that this was the fourth Play composed by Terence; it is, however, more generally supposed that the meaning is, that it was acted four times in one year.

16. Being Consuls)—M. Valerius Messala and C. Fannius Strabo were Consuls in the year from the Building of the City 591, and B.C. 162.

17. Since the old Poet)—Ver. 1. He alludes to his old enemy, Luscus Lavinius, who is mentioned in all his Prologues, except those to the Hecyra.

18. While one implored)—Ver. 8. “Et eam plorare, orare ut subveniat sibi.” This is probably in allusion to some absurd passage in one of the Plays of Lavinius. It is generally supposed to mean, that the stag implores the young man; but as the youth is mad, the absurdity, of the passage is heightened if we suppose that he implores the stag, and, in the moment of its own danger, entreats it to come to his own assistance; as certainly the Latin will admit of that interpretation.—Ovid has a somewhat similar passage in the Pontic Epistles, B. ii. Ep. ii. l. 39: “The hind that, in its terror, is flying from the savage dogs, hesitates not to trust itself to the neighboring house.”

19. Epidicazomenos)—Ver. 25. A Play of Apollodorus, so called from that Greek word, signifying “one who demands justice from another,” in allusion to Phormio, who is the complainant in the suit, which is the foundation of the plot.

20. Was driven from the place)—Ver. 32. Alluding, probably, to the disturbances which took place at the first representation of the Hecyra, and which are mentioned in the Prologues to that Play.

21. Davus)—Davus is a protatic character, only introduced for the purpose of opening the story.

22. Out of his allowance)—Ver. 43. Donatus tells us that the slaves received four “modii,” or measures of corn, each month, which was called their “demensum.”

23. Will be struck)—Ver. 48. “Ferietur.” “To strike” a person for a present was said when it was extorted from him reluctantly. So in the Trinummuns of Plautus, l. 247, “Ibi illa pendentem ferit.” “Then does she strike while he is wavering.”

24. For another present)—Ver. 48. Presents were usually made to persons on their birthday, on the day of their marriage, and on the birth of their children.

25. Initiate him)—Ver. 49. It is not known what initiation is here referred to. Madame Dacier thinks it was an initiation into the great mysteries of Ceres, which was commonly performed while children were yet very young; others suggest that it means the period of weaning the child, and initiating it into the use of another kind of diet. Donatus says, that Varro speaks of children being initiated into the mysteries of the Deities Edulia, Potica, and Cuba, the Divinities of Eating, Drinking, and Sleeping.

26. Ready counted out)—Ver. 53. “Lectum,” literally “picked out” or “chosen”—the coins being of full weight.

27. Have been angry with me)—Ver. 74. He alludes to the common belief that each person had a Genius or Guardian Deity; and that when misfortune overtook him, he had been abandoned by his Genius.

28. Kick against the spur)—Ver. 78. “To kick against the pricks,” or “in spite of the spur,” was a common Greek proverb. The expression occurs in the New Testament, Acts ix. 5. “It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.”

29. To make your market)—Ver. 79. This is a metaphorical expression taken from traffic, in which merchants suit themselves to the times, and fix a price on their commodities, according to the course of the market.

30. To the school)—Ver. 86. It was the custom for the “lenones,” or “procurers,” to send their female slaves to music-schools, in order to learn accomplishments. So in the Prologue to the Rudens of Plautus: “This Procurer brought the maiden to Cyrene hither. A certain Athenian youth, a citizen of this city, beheld her us she was going home from the music-school.”

31. Young man in tears)—Ver. 92. In the Play of Apollodorus, it was the barber himself that gave the account how he had just returned from cutting off the young woman’s hair, which was one of the usual ceremonies in mourning among the Greeks. Donatus remarks, that Terence altered this circumstance that he might not shock a Roman audience by a reference to manners so different from their own.

32. Take out a summons)—Ver. 127. “Dica” was the writ or summons with which an action at law was commenced.

33. Usher to the Music-girl)—Ver. 144. This is said satirically of Phaedria, who was in the habit of escorting the girl to the music-school. It was the duty of the “pædagogi,” or “tutors,” to lead the children to school, who were placed under their care. See the speech of Lydus, the pædagogus of Pistoclerus, in the Bacchides of Plautus, Act iii. Sc. 3, where, enlarging upon his duties, he mentions this among them.

34. Sever from me this connection)—Ver. 161. By forcing him to divorce her.

35. Neither right)—Ver. 176. No right to get rid of her in consequence of the judgment which, at the suit of Phormio, has been pronounced against him; nor yet, right to keep her, because of his father insisting upon turning her out of doors.

36. Be washing a brickbat)—Ver. 187. “Laterem lavare,” “to wash a brick,” or “tile,” was a proverb signifying labor in vain, probably because (if the brick was previously baked) it was impossible to wash away the red color of it. According to some, the saying alluded to the act of washing a brick which had been only dried in the sun, in which case the party so doing both washed away the brick and soiled his own fingers.

37. Here in reserve)—Ver. 230. “Succenturiatus.” The “succenturiati” were, properly, men intrusted to fill up vacancies in the centuries or companies, when thinned by battle.

38. Let alone “authority”)—Ver. 232. “Ac mitto imperium.” Cicero has quoted this passage in his Epistles to Atticus, B. ii. Ep. 19.

39. When affairs are the most prosperous)—Ver. 241. Cicero quotes this passage in the Third Book of his Tusculan Questions, and the maxim here inculcated was a favorite one with the Stoic philosophers.

40. Any giving evidence)—Ver. 293. Slaves were neither allowed to plead for themselves, nor to give evidence. See the Curculio of Plautus, l. 621, and the Notes to the Andria.

41. Given her a portion)—Ver. 297. By this remark, Donatus observes that Terence artfully prepares us for the imposition of Phormio, who extorts money from the old gentleman on this very ground.

42. While you were living)—Ver. 302. There was a law at Athens which enacted that persons who lent money to young men in the lifetime of their parents should have no power to recover it. In line 303 of the Pseudolus, Plautus alludes to the Quinavicenarian or Lætorian Law, at Rome, which forbade credit to be given to persons under the age of twenty-five years, and deprived the creditor of all right to recover his money or goods.

43. The woman’s next friend)—Ver. 307. The “patronus” was the person who undertook to conduct a lawsuit for another.

44. Salute the household Gods)—Ver. 311. It was the custom for those returning from a voyage or journey, to give thanks to their household Gods for having protected them in their absence. Thus, in the Amphitryon of Plautus, Jupiter, while personating Amphitryon, pretends, in l. 983, that he is going to offer sacrifice for his safe return.

45. And so you say)—Ver. 315. Donatus tells the following story with reference to this passage: “This Play being once rehearsed before Terence and some of his most intimate acquaintances, Ambivius, who acted the part of Phormio, came in drunk, which threw the author into a violent passion; but Ambivius had scarcely repeated a few lines, stammering and scratching his head, before Terence became pacified, declaring that when he was writing these very lines, he had exactly such a Parasite as Ambivius then represented, in his thoughts.”

46. Have hashed it up)—Ver. 318. He is thought to allude here, figuratively, to the composition of a dish called “moretum,” (in praise of which Virgil wrote a poem) which was composed of garlic, onions, cheese, eggs, and other ingredients, beaten up in a mortar. The allusion to eating is appropriately used in an address to a Parasite.

47. Turn upon myself)—Ver. 323. Donatus observes that in this Scene Terence exhibits the lower order of Parasites, who ingratiated themselves by sharping and roguery, as in the Eunuchus he describes Parasites of a higher rank, and of a newer species, who obtained their ends by flattery.

48. In the stocks at last)—Ver. 325. “In nervum crumpat denique.” There are several interpretations suggested for these words. Some think they allude to the drawing of a bow till it breaks; but they are more generally thought to imply termination in corporal punishment. “Nervus” is supposed to have been the name of a kind of stocks used in torturing slaves, and so called from being formed, in part at least, of the sinews of animals.

49. They will take you)—Ver. 334. At Rome, insolvent debtors became the slaves of their creditors till their debts were paid.

50. To his patron)—Ver. 338. “Regi.” The Parasites were in the habit of calling their patron “Rex,” their “King.”

51. At free cost)—Ver. 339. “Asymbolum.” Without having paid his “symbola,” or “club,” for the entertainment. Donatus informs us that the whole of this passage is borrowed from one of Ennius, which is still preserved.

52. First to drink)—Ver. 342. To be the first to drink, and to take the higher place on the couch when eating, was the privilege of the most honored guests, who usually bathed, and were then anointed before the repast.

53. Banquet full of doubts)—Ver. 342. “Coena dubia.” Horace, who borrows many of his phrases from Terence, uses the same expression.

54. Since you reign alone)—Ver. 605. This is a remark well put into the mouth of an Athenian, as the public were very jealous of any person becoming paramount to the laws, and to prevent it, were frequently guilty of the most odious oppression.

55. So many minds)—Ver. 454. “Quot homines, tot sententiæ.” This is a famous adage. One similar to the succeeding one is found in the Second Eclogue of Virgil, l. 65: “Trahit sua quemque voluptas,” exactly equivalent to our saying, “Every man to his taste.”

56. Must deliberate further)—Ver. 457. “Amplius deliberandum.” This is probably a satirical allusion to the judicial system of procrastination, which, by the Romans, was called “ampliatio.” When the judges could not come to a satisfactory conclusion about a cause, they signified it by the letters N. L. (for “non liquet,” “it is not clear”), and put off the suit for a rehearing.

57. Much more at a loss)—Ver. 459. See the Poenulus of Plautus, where advocates or assistants are introduced among the Dramatic Personæ. Colman has the following remarks on this quaint passage: “I believe there is no Scene in Comedy more highly seasoned with the ridiculous than this before us. The idea is truly comic, and it is worked up with all that simplicity and chastity so peculiar to the manner of Terence. An ordinary writer would have indulged himself in twenty little conceits on this occasion; but the dry gravity of Terence infinitely surpasses, as true humor, all the drolleries which, perhaps, even those great masters of Comedy, Plautus or Molière, might have been tempted to throw out. It is the highest art of a Dramatic Author, on some occasions, to leave a good deal to the Actor; and it has been remarked by Heinsius and others, that Terence was particularly attentive to this circumstance.”

58. From his place of exercise)—Ver. 484. “Palæstra.” He alludes to the Procurer’s house under this name.

59. Befall his own safety)—Ver. 490. Overhearing Phædria earnest and determined, and the Procurer obstinate and inflexible, Antipho and Geta join in apprehending that the brutality of the latter may provoke Phædria to some act of violence.

60. With fine words)—Ver. 499. “Phaleratis dictis.” “Phaleræ” were, properly, the silver ornaments with which horses were decked out, and being only for show, and not for use, gave rise to this saying. “Ductes” was an obscene word, and not likely to be used by any but such characters as Dorio.

61. A wolf by the ears)—Ver. 505. A proverbial expression which, according to Suetonius, was frequently in the mouth of Tiberius Cæsar.

62. A word to the wise)—Ver. 540. “Dictum sapienti sat est.” The same proverb is found in the Persa of Plautus, l. 736.

63. To shake myself)—Ver. 585. “Me excutiam.” In reference to the custom of the Greeks, and the Eastern nations, of shaking their clothes at the door of any house which they were going to leave.

64. Rely on at home)—Ver. 586. “Nam ego meorum solus sum meus.” He means that he is the only person in his house friendly to himself, inasmuch as his wife, from her wealth, has supreme power over the domestics, in whom he himself can place no trust.

65. Good terms with him)—Ver. 635. Meaning, “Is he in his senses or not?”

66. Amount of his life)—Ver. 660. “Quid si animam debet?” Erasmus tells us that this was a proverb among the Greeks applied to those who ran so deeply in debt, that their persons, and consequently, in one sense, their very existence, came into the power of their creditors.

67. Six hundred actions)—Ver. 667. “Sescentos;” literally, “six hundred.” The Romans used this term as we do the words “ten thousand,” to signify a large, but indefinite number.

68. A strange black dog)—Ver. 705. This omen, Plautus calls, in the Casina, l. 937, “canina scæva.”

69. Through the sky-light)—Ver. 706. So in the Amphitryon of Plautus, l. 1108, two great snakes come down through the “impluvium,” or “sky-light.” On the subject of the “impluvium,” see the Notes to the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, l. 159.

70. A hen crowed)—Ver. 707. Donatus tells us that it was a saying, that in the house where a hen crowed, the wife had the upper hand.

71. The soothsayer—the diviner)—Ver. 708. According to some accounts there was this difference between the “hariolus” and the “aruspex,” that the former foretold human events, the latter those relating to the Deities. Donatus has remarked on these passages, that Terence seems to sneer at the superstitions referred to.

72. Can find them now)—Ver. 726. His Lemnian wife and daughter. Colman remarks: “This is intended as a transition to the next Scene; but I think it would have been better if it had followed without this kind of introduction. The Scene itself is admirable, and is, in many places, both affecting and comic, and the discovery of the real character of Phanium is made at a very proper time.”

73. My daughter’s nurse)—Ver. 735. Among the ancients, it was the custom for nurses who had brought up children to remain with them in after-life.

74. Where are the ladies?)—Ver. 748. “Ubi illæ?” literally, “Where are these women?”

75. Run beyond the house)—Ver. 767. “Fugias ne præter casam.” This passage has given much trouble to the Commentators; but it is pretty clear that the explanation of Donatus is the correct one: “Don’t abandon your own home,” that being the safest place. Stallbaum agrees with Gronovius in thinking that it was first applied as a piece of advice to runaway slaves, as being likely to become worse off by the change; probably much in the same spirit as we say, “Out of the frying-pan into the fire.”

76. Paying by borrowing)—Ver. 779. “Versura solvere,” was “to pay a debt by borrowing money,” and consequently to be no better off than before. Geta having, by the money he has procured, freed Phædria from all danger of losing his mistress, but at the same time having brought Antipho into still greater danger of losing his wife.

77. Or his talking)—Ver. 782. “Ejus” here alludes, not to Nausistrata but to Phormio. Madame Dacier suggests that it should be “hujus.”

78. With your money)—Ver. 785. Colman observes: “Alluding to the money borrowed of her to pay Phormio; and as Donatus observes in another place, it is admirably contrived, in order to bring about a humorous catastrophe that Chremes should make use of his wife’s money on this occasion.”

79. Our friend’s)—Ver. 811. Chremes himself is so called, to deceive Nausistrata.

80. O good luck)—Ver. 840. “Fors fortuna,” “good fortune;” while “fortuna” merely means “chance.”

81. Throwing my cloak)—Ver. 843. When expedition was required, it was usual to throw the ends of the “pallium,” or “cloak,” over the shoulders.

82. Carry me off)—Ver. 881. Madame Dacier says that Antipho is so rejoiced here at Geta’s news, that he jumps upon his shoulders, and is carried off in triumph, which was a sort of stage-trick, and was very diverting to the Audience. On this, Colman observes: “I believe Madame Dacier has not the least foundation for this extraordinary piece of information; and I must confess, that I have too high an opinion, both of the Roman audience and actors, to believe it to be true.”

83. That as to what)—Ver. 898. Lemaire suggests that he is about to say: “that as to what was agreed upon between us, I may take home this young woman, and make her my wife.”

84. Is she not genteel-looking)—Ver. 904. Patrick has the following note here: “One can not conceive any thing more happy or just than these words of Chremes. Demipho’s thoughts are wholly taken up how to recover the money, and Phormio is equally solicitous to retain it; but Chremes, who had just left his daughter, is regardless of their discourse, and fresh from the impressions which she had made on him, longs to know if his brother’s sentiments of her were equally favorable, and naturally puts this paternal question to him.”

85. Transferred to my account)—Ver. 921. “Rescribere argentum,” or “nummos,” meant “to transfer,” or “set down money to the account of another person in one’s banker’s books.” A passage in the Asinaria of Plautus, l. 445, seems to have the same meaning.

86. For the well portioned)—Ver. 939. Though Colman thinks otherwise, it is pretty clear that he alludes to Nausistrata in these words.

87. To be carrying off)—Ver. 954. Patrick has the following note here: “The different characters of the two brothers are admirably preserved throughout this Scene. Chremes stands greatly in awe of his wife, and will submit to any thing rather than the story should come to her ears; but Demipho can not brook the thoughts of losing so much money, and encourages his brother to behave with spirit and resolution, promising to make up matters between him and his wife.”

88. Dead and gone)—Ver. 965. “E medio excedere,” was an Euphemism signifying “to die,” which it was deemed of ill omen to mention.

89. Those who have)—Ver. 1025. He here uses the terms which it was customary to employ in the celebration of a public funeral. See also the form of proclaiming an auction, at the end of the Menæchmi of Plautus.

90. Have him victimised)—Ver. 1027. “Mactatus” was the term applied to the pouring of wine and frankincense on the victim about to be sacrificed, on which it was said to be “magis auctus,” “increased,” or “amplified;” which, in time, became corrupted into the word “mactatus,” or “mactus.”

91. Grant us your applause)—Ver. 1054. Thus concludes the last, and certainly not the least meritorious of the Plays of our Author; indeed, for genuine comic spirit, it may challenge comparison with the Eunuch, which is in general considered to be the best.