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Title: The Captiva and The Mostellaria
Author: Plautus
Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7282] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on April 6, 2003]
Edition: 10
Language: English
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CAPTIVA AND THE MOSTELLARIA ***
Produced by David Starner, Blain Nelson, Ted Garvin and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
Literally Translated with notes
HEGIO, an Aetolian, father of Philopolemus.
PHILOCRATES, an Elean, captive in Aetolia.
TYNDARUS, his servant.
ARISTOPHONTES, an Elean, captive in Aetolia.
PHILOPOLEMUS, an Aetolian, captive in Elis.
ERGASILUS, a Parasite.
STALAGAMUS, the servant of Hegio.
A SLAVE of Hegio.
A LAD, the same.
Scene.—A place in Aetolia.
[Supposed to have been written by Priseian the Grammarian.] One son of Hegio has been made prisoner (Captus) in battle. A runaway slave has sold the other (Alium) when four years old. The father (Pater) traffics in Elean captives, only (Tantum) desirous that he may recover his son, and (Et) among these he buys his son that was formerly lost. He (Is), his clothes and his name changed with his master, causes that (Ut) he is lost to Hegio; and he himself is punished. And (Et) he brings back the captive and the runaway together, through whose information (Indicio) he discovers his other.
[Footnote 1: In this Acrostic it will be found that the old form of
"Capteivei" is preserved.]
* * * * *
These two captives (pointing to PHILOCRATES and TYNDARUS), whom you see standing here, are standing here because—they are both [1] standing, and are not sitting. That I am saying this truly, you are my witnesses. The old man, who lives here (pointing to HEGIO's house), is Hegio—his father (pointing to TYNDARUS). But under what circumstances he is the slave of his own father, that I will here explain to you, if you give attention. This old man had two sons; a slave stole one child when four years old, and flying hence, be sold him in Elis [2], to the father of this captive (pointing to PHILOCRATES). Now, do you understand this? Very good. I' faith, that man at a distance [3] there (pointing) says, no. Come nearer then. If there isn't room for you to sit down, there is for you to walk; since you'd be compelling an actor to bawl like a beggar [4]. I'm not going to burst myself for your sake, so don't you be mistaken. You who are enabled by your means to pay your taxes [5], listen to the rest [6]; I care not to be in debt to another. This runaway slave, as I said before, sold his young master, whom, when he fled, he had carried off, to this one's father. He, after he bought him, gave him as his own private slave [7] to this son of his, because they were of about the same age. He is now the slave at home of his own father, nor does his father know it. Verily, the Gods do treat us men just like footballs [8]. You hear the manner now how he lost one son. Afterwards, the Aetolians [9] are waging war with the people of Elis, and, as happens in warfare, the other son is taken prisoner. The physician Menarchus buys him there in Elis. On this, this Hegio begins to traffic in Elean captives, if, perchance, he may be able to find one to change for that captive son of his. He knows not that this one who is in his house is his own son. And as he heard yesterday that an Elean knight of very high rank and very high family was taken prisoner, he has spared no expense to rescue his son [10]. In order that he may more easily bring him back home, be buys both of these of the Quaestors [11] out of the spoil.
Now they, between themselves, have contrived this plan, that, by means of it, the servant may send away hence his master home. And therefore among themselves they change their garments and their names. He, there (pointing), is called Philocrates; this one (pointing), Tyndarus; he this day assumes the character of this one, this one of him. And this one to-day will cleverly carry out this plot, and cause his master to gain his liberty; and by the same means he will save his own brother, and without knowing it, will cause him to return back a free man to his own country to his father, just as often now, on many occasions, a person has done more good unknowingly than knowingly. But unconsciously, by their devices, they have so planned and devised their plot, and have so contrived it by their design, that this one is living in servitude with his own father. And thus now, in ignorance, he is the slave of his own father. What poor creatures are men, when I reflect upon it! This plot will be performed by us—a play for your entertainment. But there is, besides, a thing which, in a few words, I would wish to inform you of. Really, it will be worth your while to give your attention to this play. 'Tis not composed in the hackneyed style, nor yet like other plays, nor are there in it any ribald lines [12] unfit for utterance: here is neither the perjured procurer, nor the artful courtesan, nor yet the braggart captain. Don't you be afraid because I've said that there's war between the Aetoliains and the Eleans. There (pointing), at a distance, beyond the scenes, the battles will be fought. For this were almost impossible for a Comic establishment[13], that we should at a moment attempt to be acting Tragedy. If, therefore, any one is looking for a battle, let him commence the quarrel; if he shall find an adversary more powerful, I'll cause him to be the spectator of a battle that isn't pleasant to him, so that hereafter he shall hate to be a spectator of them all. I now retire. Fare ye well, at home, most upright judges, and in warfare most valiant combatants.
[Footnote 1: Because—they are both)—Ver. 2. This is apparently intended as a piece of humour, in catching or baulking the audience. He begins as though he was going to explain why the captives are standing there, and ends his explanation with saying that they are standing because they are not sitting. A similar truism is uttered by Pamphila, in the Stichus, l. 120.]
[Footnote 2: In Elis)—Ver. 9. Elis, or, as it is called by
Plautus, "Alis," was a city of Achaia, in the north-western part of the
Peloponnesus. Near it the Olympic games were celebrated.]
[Footnote 3: That man at a distance)—Ver. 11. One of the audience, probably a plebeian who has no seat, but is standing in a remote part of the theatre, is supposed to exclaim in a rude manner that he cannot hear what the actor says. On this the speaker tells him that he had better come nearer; and if he cannot find a seat, there is room for him to walk away. Possibly the verb "ambulo" may be intended to signify in this case either "to walk" or "to stand," in contradistinction to sitting. Rost, with some reason, suggests "abscedito" "walk out," in place of "accedito," "come nearer."]
[Footnote 4: To bawl like a beggar)—Ver. 13. Commentators have differed as to the meaning of this passage. Some think that he means that with the view of pleasing the plebeian part of the audience, he shall not bawl out like a beggar asking alms; while others suppose that the meaning is, that he will not run the risk of cracking his voice, after which be will be hissed off the stage, and so be reduced to beggary.]
[Footnote 5: To pay your taxes)—Ver. 15. By this he shows that the party whom he is addressing, is either one of the lowest plebeians or a slave. In the assessment or census, which was made by the Censors, the slaves were not numbered at all, being supposed to have no "caput," or "civil condition." The lowest century were the "proletarii," whose only qualification was the being heads of families, or fathers of children. In addressing those who are reckoned in the census "ope vestra," "by your means" or "circumstances," he seems to be rebuking the "proletarii," who had no such standing, and who probably formed the most noisy part of the audience. As these paid no part of the taxes with which the theatres were in part supported, of course they would be placed at a greater distance from the stage, and probably were not accommodated with seats. It was just about this period that the elder Scipio assigned different places in the theatres to the various classes of the people.]
[Footnote 6: Listen to the rest)—Ver. 16. "Reliquum" was a term which either signified generally, "what is left," or money borrowed and still unpaid. He plays upon these different meanings—"Accipite reliquum," which may either signify "hear the rest" or "take what is due and owing," and he then makes the observation, parenthetically, "alieno uti nil moror," "I don't care to be in debt."]
[Footnote 7: His own private slave)—Ver. 20. "Peculiaris" means "for his own private use," or "attached to his person;" being considered as though bought with his son's "peculium," or out of his own private purse. The "peculium" was the sum of money which a son in his minority was allowed by his father to be in possession of. The word also signified the savings of the slave.]
[Footnote 8: Just like footballs)—Ver. 22. "Pilas." Among the ancients, games with the "pila" were those played with the "pila trigonalis," so called, probably, from the players standing in a triangle, and those with the "follis," which was a larger ball, inflated with air and struck with the hands, or used for a football. "Paganica" was a similar ball, but harder, being stuffed with feathers, and was used by the country-people. "Harpastum" was a small ball used by the Greeks, which was scrambled for as soon as it came to the ground, whence it received its name. The Greeks had a proverb similar to this expression, [Greek: Theon paignia anthropoi], "men are the playthings of the Gods." So Plato called mankind [Greek: Theon athurmata], "the sport of the Gods."]
[Footnote 9: The Aetolians)—Ver. 24. Aetolia was a country of
Greece, the southern portion of which was bounded by the Corinthian
Gulf; it was opposite to the Elean territory, from which it was divided
by the gulf.]
[Footnote 10: To rescue his son)—Ver. 32. "Filio dum parceret."
Literally, "so long as he might spare his son."]
[Footnote 11: Of the Quaestors)—Ver. 34. In speaking of these officers, Plautus, as usual, introduces Roman customs into a Play the scene of which is in Greece. It has been previously remarked that the Quaestors had the selling of the spoils taken in war]
[Footnote 12: Any ribald lines)—Ver. 56. See the address of the
Company of actors to the Spectators at the end of the Play.]
[Footnote 13: A Comic establishment)—Ver. 61. "Comico choragio." Literally, "for the choragium of Comedy." The "choragium" was the dress and furniture, or "properties" for the stage, supplied by the "choragus." or keeper of the theatrical wardrobe.]
Enter ERGASILUS.
ERG. The young men have given me the name of "the mistress," for this reason, because invocated [1] I am wont to attend at the banquet. I know that buffoons [2] say that this is absurdly said, but I affirm that it is rightly said. For at the banquet the lover, when he throws the dice, invokes hia mistress.[3] Is she then invocated, or is she not? She is, most clearly. But, i' faith, we Parasites with better reason are so called, whom no person ever either invites or invokes, and who, like mice, are always eating the victuals of another person. When business is laid aside [4], when people repair to the country, at that same moment is business laid aside for our teeth. Just as, when it is hot weather, snails lie hidden in secret, and live upon their own juices, if the dew doesn't fall; so, when business is laid aside, do Parasites lie hidden in retirement, and miserably live upon their own juices, while in the country the persons are rusticating whom they sponge upon. When business is laid aside, we Parasites are greyhounds; when business recommences, like mastiffs [5], we are annoying-like and very troublesome-like [6].
And here, indeed, unless, i'faith, any Parasite is able to endure cuffs with the fist, and pots to be broken [7] about his head, why he may e'en go with his wallet outside the Trigeminian Gate [8]. That this may prove my lot, there is some danger. For since my patron [9] has fallen into the hands of the enemy—(such warfare are the Aetolians now waging with the Eleans; for this is Aetolia; this Philopolemus has been made captive in Elis, the son of this old man Hegio who lives here (pointing to the house)—a house which to me is a house of woe, and which so oft as I look upon, I weep). Now, for the sake of his son, has he commenced this dishonorable traffic, very much against his own inclination. He buys up men that have been made captives, if perchance he may be able to find some one for whom to gain his son in exchange. An object which I really do much desire that he may gain, for unless he finds him, there's nowhere for me to find myself. I have no hopes in the young men; they are all too fond of themselves. He, in fine, is a youth with the old-fashioned manners, whose countenance I never rendered cheerful without a return. His father is worthily matched, as endowed with like manners. Now I'll go to him;— but his door is opening, the door from which full oft I've sallied forth drunk with excess of cheer (He stands aside.)
[Footnote 1: Because invocated)—Ver. 70. "Invocatus." The following Note is extracted from Thornton's Translation of this Play: — "The reader's indulgence for the coinage of a new term (and perhaps not quite so much out of character from the mouth of a Parasite) is here requested in the use of the word 'invocated' in a sense, which it is owned, there is no authority for, but without it no way occurs to explain the poet's meaning—which, such as it is, and involved in such a pun, is all that can be aimed at. The word 'invocatus' means both 'called upon' and 'not called upon.' Ergasilus here quibbles upon it; for, though at entertainments be attends, as it is the common character of Parasites to do, without invitation, that is 'not called upon;' and as mistresses are 'called upon' that their names so invoked may make their lovers throw the dice with success; still, according to the double sense of the word, they may be compared to each other, as they are both, according to the Latin idiom, 'invocati.'"]
[Footnote 2: That buffoons)—Ver. 71. "Derisores," "buffoons." By this word he means that particular class of Parasites who earned their dinners by their repartees and bon-mots.]
[Footnote 3: Invokes his mistress)—Ver. 73. It was the Grecian custom, when they threw dice at an entertainment, for the thrower to call his mistress by name, which invocation was considered to bring good luck.]
[Footnote 4: When business is laid aside)—Ver. 78. "Ubi res prolatae sunt." Meaning thereby "in vacation-time." In the heat of summer the courts of justice were closed, and the more wealthy portion of the Romans retired into the country or to the seaside. Cicero mentions this vacation as "rerum proliatio." The allusion in the previous line is probably derived from a saying of the Cynic Diogenes: when he saw mice creeping under the table, he used to say, "See the Parasites of Diogenes."]
[Footnote 5: <I>Like mastiffs_)—Ver. 86. "Molossici." Literally, "dogs of Molossus," a country of Epirus.]
[Footnote 6: Annoying-like and very troublesome-like)—Ver. 87. "Odiosici—incommodestici." These are two extravagant forms of the words "odiosi" and "incommodi," coined by the author for the occasion.]
[Footnote 7: Pots to be broken)—Ver. 89. By Meursius we are informed that these practical jokes were played upon the unfortunate Parasites with pots filled with cinders, which were sometimes scattered over their clothes, to the great amusement of their fellow-guests.]
[Footnote 8: The Trigeminian Gate)—Ver. 90. The Ostian Gate was so called because the Horatii left the city by that gate to fight the Curiatii. The brothers being born at one birth were "trigemini," whence the gate received its name. The beggars with their wallets were seated there. See the Trinummus, 1.423, and the Note to the passage.]
[Footnote 9: Since my patron)—Ver. 92. Rex; literally, "king."
The Parasites were in the habit of so calling their entertainers.]
HEG. Now, give attention you, if you please. Those two captives whom I purchased yesterday of the Quaestors out of the spoil, put upon them chains of light weight [1]; take of those greater ones with which they are bound. Permit them to walk, if they wish, out of doors, or if in-doors, but so that they are watched with the greatest care. A captive at liberty is like a bird that's wild; if opportunity is once given for escaping, 'tis enough; after that, you can never catch him.
SLAVE. Doubtless we all are free men more willingly than we live the life of slaves.
HEG. You, indeed, don't seem to think so [2].
SLAVE. If I have nothing to give, should you like me to give myself to flight [3]?
HEG. If you do so give yourself, I shall at once have something to be giving to you.
SLAVE. I'll make myself juat like the wild bird you were telling of.
HEG. 'Tis just as you say; for if you do so, I'll be giving you to the cage [4] But enough of prating; take you care of what I've ordered, and be off. (The SLAVE goes into the house.) I'll away to my brother's, to my other captives; I'll go see whether they've been making any disturbance last night. From there I shall forthwith betake myself home again.
ERG. (apart). It grieves me that this unhappy old man is following the trade of a slave-dealer, by reason of the misfortune of his son. But, if by any means he can be brought back here, I could even endure for him to become an executioner.
HEG. (overhearing him). Who is it that's speaking?
ERG. 'Tis I, who am pining at your affliction, growing thin, waxing old, and shockingly wasting away. Wretched man that I am, I'm but skin and bone through leanness; nor does anything ever do me good that I eat at home; even that ever so little which I taste out of doors, the same refreshes me.
HEG. Ergasilus, save you! ERG. (crying). May the Gods kindly bless you, Hegio!
HEG. Don't weep. ERG. Must I not weep for him? Must I not weep for such a young man?
HEG. I've always known you to be a friend to my son, and I have understood him to be so to you.
ERG. Then at last do we men know our blessings, when we have lost those things which we once had in our power. I, since your son fell into the power of the enemy, knowing by experience of what value he was, now feel his loss.
HEG. Since you, who are no relation, bear his misfortune so much amiss, what is it likely that I, a father, should do, whose only son he is?
ERG. I, no relation to him? He, no relation to me? Oh, Hegio! never do say that, nor come to such a belief. To you he is an only child, but to me he is even more only than an only one.
HEG. I commend you, in that you consider the affliction of your friend your own affliction. Now be of good heart.
ERG. (crying). O dear! HEG. (half-aside). 'Tis this afflicts him, that the army for guttling is now disbanded. Meanwhile, have you found no one to command for you the army that you mentioned as disbanded?
ERG. What do you think? All to whom it used to fall are in the habit of declining that province since your son Philopolemus was taken prisoner.
HEG. I' faith, 'tisn't to be wondered at, that they are in the habit of declining that province. You have necessity for numerous troops, and those of numerous kinds. Well, first you have need of the Bakerians [5]. Of these Bakerians there are several kinds. You have need of Roll- makerians, you hare need too of Confectionerians, you have need of Poultererians, you have need of Beccaficorians; besides all the maritime forces are necessary for you.
ERG. How the greatest geniuses do frequently lie concealed! How great a general now is this private individual!
HEG. Only have good courage; for I trust that in a few days I shall bring him back home. For see now; there's a captive here, a young man of Elis, born of a very high family, and of very great wealth; I trust that it will come to pass that I shall get my son in exchange for him.
ERG. May the Gods and Goddesses grant it so!
HEG. But are you invited out anywhere to dinner?
ERG. Nowhere that I know of. But, pray, why do you ask me?
HEG. Because this is my birthday; for that reason I'd like you to be invited to dinner at my house.
ERG. 'Tis kindly said. HEG. But if you can be content to eat a very little—
ERG. Aye, even ever so little; for on such fare as that do, I enjoy myself every day at home.
HEG. Come, then, please, set yourself up for sale.
ERG. I'll put myself up for purchase, just like a landed estate, unless any one shall privately make a better offer that pleases myself and my friends more, and to my own conditions will I bind myself.
HEG. You are surely selling me a bottomless pit [6], and not a landed estate. But if you are coming, do so in time.
ERG. Why, for that matter. I'm at leisure even now.
HEG. Go then, and hunt for a hare; at present, in me you have but a ferret [7], for my fare is in the way of frequenting a rugged road.
ERG. You'll never repulse me by that, Hegio, so don't attempt it. I'll come, in spite of it, with teeth well shod.
HEG. Really, my viands are but of a rough sort [8]. ERG. Are you in the habit of eating brambles?
HEG. Mine is an earthy dinner. ERG. A pig is an earthy animal.
HEG. Earthy from its plenty of vegetables.
ERG. Treat your sick people [9] at home with that fare? Do you wish anything else?
HEG. Come in good time. ERG. You are putting in mind one who remembers quite well. (Exit.
HEG. I'll go in-doors, and in the house I'll make the calculation how little money I have at my banker's; afterwards I'll go to my brother's, whither I was saying I would go. (Goes into his house.)
[Footnote 1: Chains of light weight)—Ver. 112. "Singularias" This word may admit of three interpretations, and it is impossible to decide which is the right one. It may mean chains weighting a single "libra," or pound; it may signify chains for the captives singly, in contradistiniction to those by which they were fastened to each other; or it may mean single chains, in opposition to double ones. In the Acts of the Apostles, ch. 12, v. 6, we read that St. Peter was bound with two chains; and in ch. 13, v. 33, the chief captain orders St. Paul to be bound with two chains.]
[Footnote 2: Don't seem to think so)—Ver. 120. Hegio means to say that the slave does not seem to think liberty so very desirable, or he would try more to please his master and do his duty, which might probably be the right method for gaining his liberty. As the slave could generally ransom himself out of his "peculium," or "savings," if they were sufficient, the slave here either thinks, or pretends to think, that Hegio is censuring him for not taking those means, and answer, accordingly, that he has nothing to offer]
[Footnote 3: Give myself to flight)—Ver. 121. "Dem in pedes." Literally, "give myself to my feet," meaning thereby "to run away." He puns upon this meaning of "dare," and its common signification of "to give" or "to offer to give."]
[Footnote 4: Giving you to the cage)—Ver. 124. "In cavears." He plays on the word "cavea," which meaning "a cage" for a bird, might also mean confinement for a prisoner.]
[Footnote 5: The Bakerians)—Ver. 162. This and the following appellations are expressive both of the several trades that contributed to furnishing entertainments, and, in the Latin, also denoted the names of inhabitants of several places in Italy or elsewhere. As this meaning could not be expressed in a literal translation of them, the original words are here subjoined. In the word "Pistorienses," he alludes to the bakers, and the natives of Pistorium, a town of Etruria; in the "Panicei," to the bread or roll bakers, and the natives of Pana, a little town of the Samnites, mentioned by Strabo; in the "Placentini," to the "confectioners" or "cake-makers," and the people of Placentia, a city in the North of Italy; in the "Turdetani," to the "poulterers" or "sellers of thrushes," and the people of Turdentania, a district of Spain; and in the "Fiendulae," to the "sellers of beccaficos," a delicate bird, and the inhabitants of Ficculae, a town near Rome. Of course, these appellations, as relating to the trades, are only comical words coined for the occasion.]
[Footnote 6: A bottomless pit)—Ver. 183. He plays upon the resemblance in sound of the word "fundum," "landed property," to "profundum," "a deep cavity," to which he compares the Parasite's stomach. "You sell me landed property, indeed; say rather a bottomless pit."]
[Footnote 7: Have but a ferret)—Ver. 185. This passage has much puzzled the Commentators; but allowing for some very far-fetched wit, which is not uncommon with Plautus, it may admit of some explanation. He tells the Parasite that he had better look for a nicer dinner, a hare, in fact; for that in dining with him, he will only get the ferret (with which the hare was hunted) for his dinner. Then, inasmuch as the ferret was and for following the bare or rabbit into "scruposae viae," "impervious" or "rocky places" where they had burrowed, he adds: "For my dinner, ferret-like, frequents ragged places;" by which he probably means that it is nothing but a meagre repast of vegetables, of which possibly capers formed a part, which grow plentifully in Italy, in old ruins and craggy spots. Some suggest that it was a custom with the huntsmen, if they failed to catch the hurt, to kill and eat the ferret.]
[Footnote 8: Are but of a rough sort)—Ver. 189. The word "asper" means either "unsavoury" or "prickly," according to the context. Hegio means to use it in the former sense, but the Parasite, for the sake of repartee, chooses to take it in the latter.]
[Footnote 9: Treat your sick people)—Ver. 191. He means that such a dinner may suit sick people, but will not be to his taste.]
Enter, from the house, PHILOCRATES, TYNDARUS, and SLAVES and CAPTIVES of HEGIO.
SLAVE. If the immortal Gods have so willed it that you should undergo this affliction, it becomes you to endure it with equanimity; if you do so, your trouble will be lighter [1]. At home you were free men, I suppose; now if slavery has befallen you, 'tis a becoming way for you to put up with it, and by your dispositions to render it light, under a master's rule. Unworthy actions which a master does must be deemed Worthy ones.
PHIL. and TYND. Alas! alas! alas! SLAVE. There's no need for wailing; you cause much injury to your eyes. In adversity, if you use fortitude of mind, it is of service.
PHIL. and TYND. But we are ashamed, because we are in bonds.
SLAVE. But in the result it might cause vexation to our master, if he were to release you from chains, or allow you to be loose, whom he has purchased with his money.
PHIL. and TYND. What does he fear from us? We know our duty, what it is, if he allows us to be loose.
SLAVE. Why, you are meditating escape. I know what it is you are devising.
PHIL. and TYND. We, make our escape? Whither should we escape?
SLAVE. To your own country. PHIL. and TYND. Out upon you; it would ill befit us to be following the example of runaways.
SLAVE. Why, faith, should there be an opportunity, I don't advise you not.
PHIL. and TYND. Do you allow us to make one request.
SLAVE. What is it, pray? PHIL. and TYND. That you will give us an opportunity of conversing, without these and yourselves for overlookers.
SLAVE. Be it so; go you away from here, you people. Let's step here, on one side. (To the other CAPTIVES and SLAVES.) But commence upon a short conversation only.
PHIL. O yes, it was my intention so to do. Step aside this way (to TYNDARUS).
SLAVE (to the other CAPTIVES). Stand apart from them.
TYND. (to the SLAVE). "We are Both greatly obliged to you, by reason of your doing so, since you allow us to obtain what we are desirous of.
PHIL. Step here then, at a distance now, if you think fit, that no listeners may be enabled to overhear our discourse, and that this plan of ours mayn't be divulged before them for a stratagem is no stratagem, if you don't plan it with art but it is a very great misfortune if it becomes disclosed. For if you are my master, and I represent myself as your servant, still there's need of foresight, and need of caution, that this may be carried out discreetly and without overlookers, with carefulness and with cautious prudence and diligence. So great is the matter that has been commenced upon; this must not be carried out in any drowsy fashion.
TYND. Just as you shall desire me to be, I will be.
PHIL. I trust so. TYND. For now you see that for your precious life I'm setting at stake my own, as dear to me.
PHIL. I know it. TYND. But remember to know it when you shall be enjoying that which you wish for; for mostly, the greatest part of mankind follow this fashion; what they wish for, until they obtain it, they are rightminded; but when they have now got it in their power, from being rightminded they become most deceitful, and most dishonest; now I do consider that you are towards me as I wish. What I advise you, I would advise my own father.
PHIL. I' faith, if I could venture, I would call you father; for next to my own father, you are my nearest father.
TYND. I understand. PHIL. And therefore I remind you the more frequently, that you may remember it. I am not your master, but your servant; now this one thing I do beseech you. Inasmuch as the immortal Gods hare disclosed to us their wishes, that they desire me to have once been your master, and now to be your fellow-captive; what formerly of my right I used to command you, now with entreaties do I beg of you, by our uncertain fortunes, and by the kindness of my father towards you, and by our common captivity, which has befallen us by the hand of the enemy, don't you pay me any greater respect than I did you when you were my slave; and don't you forget to remember who you were, and who you now are.
TYND. I know, indeed, that I now am you, and that you are I.
PHIL. Well, if you are able carefully to remember that, I have some hope in this scheme of ours.
[Footnote 1: Will be lighter)—Ver. 197. The English proverb corresponds with this: What can't be cured must be endured.]
HEG. I shall return in-doors just now, when I shall have discovered from these people what I want to know. (To the SLAVES.) Where are those persons whom I ordered to be brought out of doors here, before the house?
PHIL. By my faith, I find that you have taken due precaution that we shouldn't be missed by you, so walled in are we with chains and keepers.
HEG. He that takes precaution that he mayn't be deceived, is hardly on his guard, even while he's taking precaution; even when he has supposed that he has taken every precaution, full often is this wary man outwitted. Was there not good reason, indeed, for me to watch you carefully, whom I purchased with so large a sum of ready money?
PHIL. Troth, it isn't fair for us to hold you to blame, because you watch us closely; nor yet for you us, if we go away hence, should there be an opportunity.
HEG. As you are here, so is my son a captive there among your people.
PHIL. He, a captive?
HEG. Even so.
PHIL. We, then, have not proved the only cowards [1].
HEG. (_to PHILOCRATES, supposing him to be the SERVANT of the other). Step you aside this way, for there are some things that I wish to enquire of you in private, on which subjects I would have you not to be untruthful to me. (They step aside.)
PHIL. I will not be, as to that which I shall know; if I shall not know anything, that which I don't know I'll tell you of.
TYND. (aside). Now is the old fellow in the barber's shop; now, at this very instant, is Philocrates wielding the razor [2]. He hasn't cared, indeed, to put on the barber's cloth [3], so as not to soil his dress. But whether to say that he's going to share him close, or trim him [4] through the comb [5], I don't know; but if he's wise, he'll scrape him right well to the very quick.
HEG. (to PHILOCRATES). Which would you? Would you prefer to be a slave, or a free man?—Tell me.
PHIL. That which is the nearest to good, and the furthest off from evil, do I prefer; although my servitude hasn't proved very grievous to me, nor has it been otherwise to me than if I had been a son in the family.
TYND. (aside). Capital! I wouldn't purchase, at a talent's price even, Thales the Milesian [6]; for compared with this man's wisdom, he was a very twaddler. How cleverly has he suited his language to the slave's condition.
HEG. Of what family is this Philocrates born?
PHIL. The Polyplusian [7]; which one family is flourishing there, and held in highest esteem.
HEG. What is he himself? In what esteem is he held there?
PHIL. In the highest, and that by the very highest men.
HEG. Since, then, he is held in such great respect among the Eleans, as you tell of, what substance has he?—Of large amount?
PHIL. Enough for him, even, when an old man, to be melting out the tallow [8]
HEG. What is his father? Is he living? PHIL, When we departed thence, we left him alive; whether he's living now or not, Orcus, forsooth, must know that.
TYND. (aside). The matter's all right; he's not only lying, but he's even philosophizing now.
HEG. What's his name? PHIL. Thesaurochrysonicocroesides [9].
HEG. That name has been given, I suppose, by reason of his wealth, as it were.
PHIL. Troth, not so, but rather by reason of his avarice and grasping disposition; for, indeed, he was Theodoromedes originally by name.
HEG. How say you? Is his father covetous?
PHIL. Aye, by my faith, he is covetous. Why, that you may even understand it the better,—when he's sacrificing at any time to his own Genius [10], the vessels that are needed for the sacrifice he uses of Samian ware, lest the Genius himself should steal them; from this, consider how much he would trust other people.
HEG. (addressing TYNDARUS as though PHILOCRATES). Do you then follow me this way. (Aside.) The things that I desire to know, I'll enquire of him. (Addressing TYNDARUS.) Philocrates, this person has done as it becomes an honest man to do. For from him I've learnt of what family you are sprang; he has confessed it to me. If you are willing to own these same things (which, however, understand that I already know from him), you will be doing it for your own advantage.
TYND. He did his duty when he confessed the truth to you, although, Hegio, I wished carefully to conceal both my rank and my wealth; now, inasmuch as I've lost my country and my liberty, I don't think it right for him to be dreading me rather than you. The might of warfare has made my fortunes on a level with himself. I remember the time when he didn't dare to do it in word; now, in deed, he is at liberty to offend me. But don't you see? Human fortune moulds and fashions just, as she wills. Myself, who was a free man she has made a slave, from the very highest the very lowest. I, who was accustomed to command, now obey the mandates of another. And indeed, if I meet with a master just such as I proved the ruler in my own household, I shall not fear that he will rule me harshly or severely. With this, Hegio, I wished you to be acquainted, unless perchance you yourself wish it not.
HEG. Speak boldly out. TYND. As free a man was I till lately as your son. As much did a hostile hand deprive me of my liberty as him of his. As much is he a slave among my people, as am now a slave here with yourself. There is undoubtedly a God, who both hears and sees the things which we do. Just as you shall treat me here, in the same degree will he have a care for him. To the well-deserving will he show favour, to the ill-deserving will he give a like return. As much as you lament your son, so much does my father lament me.
HEG. That I am aware of. But do you admit the same that he has disclosed to me?
TYND. I confess that my father has very great wealth at home, and that I am born of a very noble family; but I entreat you, Hegio, let not my riches make your mind too prone to avarice, lest it should seem to my father, although I am his only son, more suitable that I should be a slave in your house, bountifully supplied at your expense and with your clothing, rather than be living the life of a beggar where 'twould be far from honorable.
HEG. By the favour of the Gods and of my forefathers, I am rich enough. I don't quite believe that every kind of gain is serviceable to mankind. I know that gain has already made many a man famous; and yet there are occasions when it is undoubtedly better to incur loss than to make gain. Gold I detest: many a one has it persuaded to many an evil course. Now give your attention to this, that you may know as well what my wishes are. My son, taken prisoner, is in servitude at Elis there among your people; if you restore him to me, don't you give me a single coin besides; both you and him, your servant, I'll send back from here; on no other terms can you depart hence.
TYND. You ask what's very right and very just, and you are the very kindest person of all mankind. But whether is he in servitude to a private person or to the public [11]?
HEG. In private servitude to Menarchus, a physician.
PHIL. By my faith, that person's surely his father's dependant. Why really, that's down as pat for you, as the shower is when it rains.
HEG. Do you then cause this person, my son, to be redeemed.
TYND. I'll do so: but this I beg of you, Hegio—
HEG. Whatever you wish, so that you request nothing against my interest,
I'll do.
TYND. Listen then, and you'll know. I don't ask for myself to be released, until he has returned. But I beg of you to give me him (pointing to PHILOCRATES) with a price set [12] upon him, that I may send him to my father, that this person, your son, may be redeemed there.
HEG. Why no; I'd rather send another person hence, when there shall be a truce, to confer with your father there, and to carry your injunctions which you shall entrust him with, just as you wish.
TYND. But it's of no use to send to him one that he doesn't know; you'd be losing your labour. Send this person; he'll have it all completed, if he gets there. And you cannot send any person to him more faithful, nor one in whom he places more confidence, nor who is more a servant after his own mind; nor, in fact, one to whom he would more readily entrust your son. Have no fears; at my own peril I'll make proof of his fidelity, relying upon his disposition; because he is sensible that I'm kindly disposed towards him.
HEG. Well then, I'll send him with a price set upon him, on the surety of your promise, if you wish it.
TYND. I do wish it; so soon as ever it can, I want this matter to be brought to completion.
HEG. What reason is there, then, that if he doesn't return, you should not pay me twenty minae for him?
TYND. Yes—very good. HEG. (to the SLAVES, who obey). Release him now forthwith; and, indeed, both of them. (On being released, PHILOCRATES goes into the house.)
TYND. May all the Gods grant you all your desires, since you have deigned me honor so great, and since you release me from my chains. Really, this is not so irksome now, since my neck is free from the collar-chain.
HEG. The kindnesses that are done to the good, thanks for the same are pregnant with blessings. Now, if you are about to send him thither, direct, instruct him, give him the orders which you wish to be carried to your father. Should you like me to call him to you?
TYND. Do call him. (HEGIO goes to the door, and calls
PHILOCRATES.)
[Footnote 1: The only cowards)—Ver. 267. He alludes to the notion in the heroic times, that it was the duty of a warrior to conquer or to die, and that it was disgraceful to be made prisoner.]
[Footnote 2: Wielding the razor)—Ver. 271. It is hard to say whether by the word "cuttros," in this passage, razors or scissors are meant.]
[Footnote 3: To put on the barber's cloth)—Ver. 272. He probably means by this expression that Philocrates has made no preamble, and shown no hesitation, in commencing at once to dupe the old man.]
[Footnote 4: Or trim him)—Ver. 273. He alludes here to the two kinds of shaving and trimming the beard used by the barbers among the ancients. The one was close "strictim," when they shaved to the skin; the other was, when with a pair of scissors they clipped the hair, with the interposition of a comb. The former fashion was called by the Greeks [Greek: skaphion]; the latter method, which was borrowed from the Persians, [Greek: kaepos]. "Esse in tonstrina," "to be in the barber's shop," was a proverbial expression to denote "being imposed upon." Tyndarus is wondering to what extent Philocrates is going to impose upon Hegio.]
[Footnote 5: Through the comb)—Ver. 273. The Greeks and Romans made their combs of boxwood, much of which was imported from Paphlagonia. The Egyptians used them made of wood and of ivory, and toothed on one side only; while those of the Greeks had teeth on both sides.]
[Footnote 6: Thales the Milesian)—Ver. 279. A talent would be a low price for such a learned slave as Thales the Milesian, who was one of the seven wise men of Greece. He says, however, that Thales at such a low price would be nothing in comparison with Philocrates for the same money.]
[Footnote 7: The Polyplusian)—Ver. 282. This word is coined by Philocrates for the occasion, as being the name of his family, from the Greek word [Greek: polyplousios], "very wealthy;" probably with the idea of raising the expectations of Hegio and making him the more ready to promote an exchange of his own son for a member of so opulent a family.]
[Footnote 8: Melting out the tallow)—Ver. 286. Hegio asks him if his riches are very abundant, and in doing so uses the word "opimae," of which the primary meaning was "fat;" the other answers, "Yes, so fat that he can be melting the tallow out of them even when he is an old man;" meaning thereby that he is amply provided with means.].
[Footnote 9: Thesaurochrysonicocraesides)—Ver. 290. This is a name made up of several Greek words, and seems to mean "a son of Croesus, abounding in treasures of gold," in allusion to Croesus, the wealthy king of Lydia. The author indulges in similar pleasantry in the Miles Gloriosus.]
[Footnote 10: To his own Genius)—Ver. 295. As the Genius of a man was not only his guardian Deity through life, but the word was also used to signify his capacity for enjoyment; the term "to sacrifice to his Genius," is supposed by some Commentators to mean, "to indulge the appetite in feasting and good cheer." This, however, seems not to be the meaning in this instance; and he probably intends to be understood as alluding, literally, to the domestic sacrifice to the Genius.]
[Footnote 11: Or to the public)—Ver. 339. Some captives were employed in the public service, while others fell into the hands of private individuals.]
[Footnote 12: With a price set)—Ver. 845. "Aestimatus" here means "entrusted to a person at a fixed value, and at his risk for the due return of it."]
HEG. May this affair turn out happily for myself and for my son, and for yourselves. (To PHILOCRATES.) Your new master wishes you to pay faithful obedience to your former owner in what he wishes. For I have presented you to him, with the price of twenty minae set upon you: and he says that he is desirous to send you away hence to his father, that he may there redeem my son, and that an exchange may be made between me and him for our respective sons.
PHIL. My disposition takes its course straight in either direction, both to yourself and to him; as a wheel [1] you may make use of me; either this way or that can I be turned, whichever way you shall command me.
HEG. You yourself profit the most from your own disposition, when you endure slavery just as it ought to be endured. Follow me. (To TYNDARUS.) See here's your man.
TYND. I return you thanks, since you give me this opportunity and permission to send this messenger to my parents, who may relate all the matter in its order to my father, what I'm doing here, and what I wish to be done. (To PHILOCRATES.) Now, Tyndarus, thus is it arranged between myself and him, that I'm to send you, valued at a fixed price, to my father in Elis; so that, if you don't return hither, I'm to give twenty minae for you.
PHIL. I think that you've come to a right understanding. For your father expects either myself or some messenger to come from here to him.
TYND. I wish you, then, to mind what message it is I want you to carry hence to my country to my father.
PHIL. Philocrates, as up to this moment I have done, I will take all due care to endeavour that which may especially conduce to your interest, and to pursue the same with heart and soul, and with my ears.
TYND. You act just as you ought to act; now I wish you to give attention. In the first place of all, carry my respects to my mother and my father, and to my relations, and if any one else you see well- disposed towards me: say that I am in health here, and that I am a slave, in servitude to this most worthy man, who has ever honored me more and more with his respect, and does so still.
PHIL. Don't you be instructing me as to that; I can, still, easily bear that in mind.
TYND. For, indeed, except that I have a keeper, I deem myself to be a free man. Tell my father on what terms I have agreed with this party about his son.
PHIL. What I remember, it is sheer delay to be putting me in mind of.
TYND. To redeem me, and to send him back here in exchange for both of us.
PHIL. I'll remember it. HEG. But as soon as he can that is especially to the interest of us both.
PHIL. You are not more anxious to see your son, than he is to see his.
HEG. My son is dear to myself, and his own to every man.
PHIL. (to TYNDARUS). Do you wish any other message to be carried to your father?
TYND. Say that I am well here; and do you boldly tell him, Tyndarus, that we have been of dispositions for uninterrupted harmony between ourselves, and that you have neither been deserving of censure, nor that I have proved your enemy; and that still, amid miseries so great, you have shown implicit obedience to your master, and that you have never abandoned me, either in deed or in fidelity, amid my wavering, unprosperous fortunes. When my father shall know this, Tyndarus, how well-disposed you have proved towards his son and himself, he will never be so avaricious but that he'll give you your liberty for nothing. And by my own endeavours, if I return hence, I'll make him do so the more readily. For by your aid and kindness, and good disposition and prudence, you have caused me to be allowed to return to my parents once again, inasmuch as to Hegio you have confessed both my rank and my wealth; by means of which, through your wisdom, you have liberated your master from his chains.
PHIL. The things which you mention I have done, and I am pleased that you remember this. Deservedly have they been done for you by me; for now, Philocrates, if I, too, were to mention the things that you have kindly done for me, the night would cut short the day. For, had you been my slave even, no otherwise were you always obliging to me.
HEG. Ye Gods, by our trust in you! behold the kindly disposition of these persons! How they draw the very tears from me! See how cordially they love each other, and with what praises the servant has commended his master.
PHIL. I' troth, he hasn't commended me the one hundredth part of what he himself deserves to be commended in my praises.
HEG. (to PHILOCRATES). Since, then, you have acted most becomingly, now there's an opportunity to add to your good in managing this matter with fidelity towards him.
PHIL. I am not able more to wish it done, than by my endeavours to try to bring it about. That you may know this, Hegio, with praises do I call supreme Jove to witness that I will not prove unfaithful to Philocrates [2]—
HEG. You are a worthy fellow. PHIL. And that I will never in anything act otherwise towards him than towards my own self.
TYND. I wish you to put these speeches to the test, both by your deeds and your actions; and inasmuch as I have said the less about you than I had wished, I wish you the more to give me your attention, and take you care not to be angry with me by reason of these words. But, I beseech you, reflect that you are sent hence home with a price set upon you at my risk, and that my life is here left as a pledge for you. Do not you forget me the very moment that you have left my presence, since you will have left me here behind a captive in captivity for yourself, and don't consider yourself as free, and forsake your pledge [3], and not use your endeavours for you to bring his son home again, in return for me. Understand that you are sent hence valued at twenty minae. Take care to prove scrupulously faithful; take care that you show not a wavering fidelity. For my father, I am sure, will do everything that he ought to do. Preserve me as a constant friend to you, and find out [4] this person so lately discovered. These things, by your right hand, holding you with my own right hand, do I beg of you; do not prove less true to me than I have proved to you. This matter do you attend to; you are now my master, you my patron, you my father; to you do I commend my hopes and my fortunes.
PHIL. You have given injunctions enough. Are you satisfied if I bring back accomplished what you have enjoined?
TYND. Satisfied. PHIL. (to HEGIO). According to your wishes, and (to TYNDARUS) according to yours, will I return, hither provided. Is there anything else?
TYND. For you to return bad as soon as ever you can.
PHIL. The business itself reminds me of that.
HEG. (to PHILOCRATES). Follow me, that I may give you your expenses for the journey at my banker's; on the same occasion I'll get a passport from the Praetor.
TYND. What passport [5]? HEG. For him to take with him hence to the army, that he may be allowed to go home from here. (To TYNDARUS.) You go in-doors.
TYND. Speed you well. PHIL. Right heartily, farewell. (TYNDARUS goes into the house.)
HEG. (aside). I' faith, I compassed my design, when I purchased these men of the Quaestors out of the spoil. I have released my son from slavery, if so it pleases the Gods; and yet I hesitated a long time whether I should purchase or should not purchase these persons. Watch that man indoors, if you please, you servants, that he may nowhere move a foot without a guard. I shall soon make my appearance at home; now I'm going to my brother's, to see my other captives; at the same time I'll enquire whether any one knows this young man. (To PHILOCRATES.) Do you follow, that I may despatch you. I wish attention first to be paid to that matter. (Exeunt.
[Footnote 1: As a wheel)—Ver. 374. This may either mean the wheel of a vehicle or a potter's wheel. The wheels used by the ancients revolved on the axle, as in the carriages of modern times, and were prevented, by pins inserted, from falling off. They consisted of naves, spokes, which varied much in number, the felly, or wooden circumference, made of elastic wood, such as the poplar and wild fig, and composed of several segments united, and the tire, which was of metal. Some of their carts and waggons had wheels made of a solid circle of wood, in shape like a millstone, with the axle running through the middle. Similar wheels are used in the south of Europe at the present day.]
[Footnote 2: Unfaithful to Philocrates)—Ver. 432. Philocrates might very safely take an oath to Hegio, that he would not prove unfaithful to himself.]
[Footnote 3: Forsake your pledge)—Ver. 441. Alluding to himself being left behind, and a surety for his speedy return.]
[Footnote 4: And find out)—Ver. 446. "Atque hunc inventum inveni." Some would render this, "And find this person still as you have found him," making it allude to Hegio; it seems, however, rather to apply to the son of Hegio, and to mean, "Do you seek out this person whom we have found out to be in the possession of the physician, Menarchus."]
[Footnote 5: What passport?)—Ver. 454. Being conscious of the trick which they are playing on the worthy old man, Tyndarus shows some alarm on hearing a passport, or "syngraphus," mentioned. Commentators are at a loss to know why he should express such alarm. It is difficult to say, but, probably, as there was in the passport a description of the bearer, who would be Philocrates under the name of Tyndarus, it suddenly comes to the recollection of Tyndarus that they were originally made prisoners under their proper names, and that possibly Philocrates may be recognised as attempting to pass under an assumed name.]
Enter ERGASILUS.
ERG. Wretched is that man who is in search of something to eat, and finds that with difficulty; but more wretched is he who both seeks with difficulty, and finds nothing at all; most wretched is he, who, when he desires to eat, has not that which he may eat. But, by my faith, if I only could, I'd willingly tear out the eyes of this day;—with such enmity has it filled all people towards me. One more starved out I never did see, nor one more filled with hunger [1], nor one who prospers less in whatever he begins to do. So much do my stomach and my throat take rest on these fasting holidays [2]. Away with the profession of a Parasite to very utter and extreme perdition! so much in these days do the young men drive away from them the needy drolls. They care nothing now-a-days for these Laconian men [3] of the lowest benches— these whipping-posts, who hare their clever sayings without provision and without money. They now-a-days seek those who, when they've eaten at their pleasure, may give them a return at their own houses. They go themselves to market, which formerly was the province of the Parasites. They go themselves from the Forum to the procurers with face as exposed[4] as the magistrates in court [5], with face exposed, condemn those who are found guilty; nor do they now value buffoons at one farthing [6]; all are so much in love with themselves. For, when, just now, I went away from here, I came to some young men in the Forum: "Good morrow," said I; "whither are we going together to breakfast?" On this, they were silent. "Who says, 'here, at my house,' or who makes an offer?" said I. Just like dumb men, they were silent, and didn't smile at me. "Where do we dine?" said I. On this they declined, said one funny saying out of my best bon mots, by which I formerly used to get feasting for a month; not an individual smiled; at once I knew that the matter was arranged by concert. Not even one was willing to imitate a dog when provoked; if they didn't laugh, they might, at least, have grinned with their teeth [7]. From them I went away, after I saw that I was thus made sport of. I went to some others; then to some others I came; then to some others—the same the result. All treat the matter in confederacy, just like the oil-merchants in the Velabrum [8]. Now, I've returned thence, since I see myself made sport of there. In like manner do other Parasites walk to and fro, to no purpose, in the Forum. Now, after the foreign fashion [9], I'm determined to enforce all my rights. Those who have entered into a confederacy, by which to deprive us of food and life,—for them I'll name a day. I'll demand, as the damages, that they shall give me ten dinners at my own option, when provisions are dear: thus will I do. Now I'll go hence to the harbour. There, is my only hope of a dinner; if that shall fail me, I'll return here to the old gentleman, to his unsavoury dinner.
[Footnote 1: Filled with hunger)—Ver. 471. This paradoxical expression is similar to the one used in the Aulularia, 1. 45, "inaniis oppletae," "filled with emptiness."]
[Footnote 2: Fasting holidays)—Ver. 473. He means to say, that as on feast days and holidays people abstain from work, so at present his teeth and stomach have no employment.]
[Footnote 3: These Laconian men)—Ver. 476. The Parasites, when there was not room for them on the "triclinia," or "couches" at table, were forced to sit on "subsellia," or "benches," at the bottom of the table. This was like the custom of the Spartans, or Laconians, who, eschewing the luxury of reclining, always persisted in sitting at meals. The Spartans, also, endured pain with the greatest firmness; a virtue much required by Parasites, in order to put up with the indignities which they had to endure from the guests, who daubed their faces, broke pots about their heads, and boxed their ears.]
[Footnote 4: With face as exposed)—Ver. 480. People, with any sense of decency, would resort to these places either in masks, or with a hood thrown over the face.]
[Footnote 5: In court)—Ver. 481. "In tribu." He alludes to the trials which took place before the Roman people in the "Comitia Tributa," or "assemblies of the tribes," where the Tribunes and Aediles acted as the accusers. The offences for which persons were summoned before the tribes, were, bad conduct of a magistrate in performance of his duties, neglect of duty, mismanagement of a war, embezzlement of the public money, breaches of the peace, usury, adultery, and some other crimes. The "Comitia Tributa" were used as courts of appeal, when a person protested against a fine imposed by a magistrate.]
[Footnote 6: At one farthing)—Ver. 482. Literally, "at a teruncius," which was a small coin among the Romans, containing three "unciae," "twelfth parts" or one quarter of the "as," which we generally take as equivalent to a penny.]
[Footnote 7: Grinned with their teeth)—Ver. 491. That is, by showing their teeth and grinning. This is not unlike the expression used in the Psalms (according to the translation in our Liturgy)—Ps. lix., ver. 6—"They grin like a dog and run about through the city."]
[Footnote 8: In the Velabrum)—Ver. 494. The "Via Nova," or "New Street," at Rome, led from the interior of the city to the "Velabra." The greater and the less "Velabrum" lay between the Palatine and the Capitoline Hills, where fruits and other commodities were sold in booths, or under awnings, from which ("vela") the streets probably derived their name. Varro, however, says that they were so called from the verb "veho," "to carry;" because in early times those spots were traversed in boats, which mode of carriage was called "velatura." From the present passage, it appears that the oil-merchants in the "Velabra" acted in confederacy not to sell their oils under a certain price.]
[Footnote 9: After the foreign fashion)—Ver. 497. Some suppose that "barbarica lege" here means "the foreign" or "Roman law," and that he refers to the "Lex Vinnia," introduced at Rome by Quintus Vinnius, which was said to have been passed against those persons who confederated for the purpose of keeping up the high prices of provisions. It is, however, somewhat doubtful if there really was such a law; and the better opinion seems to be that the word "lege" meant "fashion" or "custom;" and that he refers to the Roman method of trial. He will accuse his former entertainers of a conspiracy to starve him. He will name a day for trial, "diem dicet;" he will demand damages or a penalty, "irrogabit muletam;" and thus will he proceed at law against them, "sic egerit." Rost has written at great length on the meaning of this passage.]
HEG. (to himself). What is there more delightful than to manage one's own interests well for the public good [1], just as I did yesterday, when I purchased these men. Every person, as they see me, comes to meet me, and congratulates me on this matter. By thus stopping and detaining unlucky me, they've made me quite tired. With much ado have I survived [2] from being congratulated, to my misfortune. At last, to the Praetor did I get. There, scarcely did I rest myself. I asked for a passport; it was given me: at once I delivered it to Tyndarus. He started for home. Thence, straightway, after that was done, I passed by my house; and I went at once to my brother's, where my other captives are. I asked about Philocrates from Elis, whether any one of them all knew the person. This man (pointing to ARISTOPHONTES) called out that he had been his intimate friend; I told him that he was at my house. At once he besought and entreated me that I would permit him to see him. Forthwith I ordered him to be released from chains. Thence have I come. (To ARISTOPHONTES.) Now, do you follow me, that you may obtain what you have besought of me, the opportunity of meeting with this person. (They go into the house.)
[Footnote 1: For the public good)—Ver. 504. It is possible that he may here refer to his purchase of Philocrates, whose high position among the Eleans would probably tend, on his return to his native country, to promote peace between it and the people of Aetoiia.]
[Footnote 2: With much ado have I survived)—Ver. 513. "Vox— eminebam." Literally, "I hardly kept myself above" water. He means that he was almost overpowered by the crowds of people congratulating him.]
TYND. Now stands the matter so, that I would much rather that I had once existed, than that I still exist; now do my hopes, my resources, and my succour, desert me and spurn themselves. This is that day, when, for my life, no safety can be hoped; nor yet is death my end; nor hope is there, in fact, to dispel this fear for me; nor cloak have I anywhere for my deceitful stratagems; nor for my devices or my subterfuges is there anywhere a screen presented to me. No deprecating is there for my perfidy; no means of flight for my offences. No refuge is there anywhere for my trusting; and no escape for my cunning schemes. What was concealed is now exposed; my plans are now divulged. The whole matter is now laid open; nor is there any ado about this matter, but that I must perish outright, and meet with destruction, both on behalf of my master and myself. This Aristophontes has proved my ruin, who has just now come into the house. He knows me. He is the intimate friend and kinsman of Philocrates. Not Salvation herself [1] can save me now, even if she wishes; nor have I any means of escape, unless, perchance, I devise some artifice in my mind. (He meditates.) Plague on it!—how? What can I contrive?—what can I think of? Some very great folly and trifling I shall have to begin with. I'm quite at a loss. (He retires aside.)
[Footnote 1: Not Salvation herself)—Ver. 535. This was a proverbial expression among the Romans. "Salus," "Safety" or "Salvation," was worshipped as a Goddess at Rome. It is well observed, in Thornton's translation, that the word "Salus" may, without irreverence, be translated "Salvation," on no less authority than that of Archbishop Tillotson. "If," says he, "men will continue in their sins, the redemption brought by Christ will be of no advantage to them; such as obstinately persist in an impenitent course," "ipsa si velit Salus, servare non potest." "Salvation itself cannot save them."]
HEG. Whither am I to say, now, that that man has betaken himself from the house out of doors?
TYND. (apart). Now, for a very certainty, I'm done for; the enemies are coming to you, Tyndarus! What shall I say?—what shall I talk of? What shall I deny, or what confess? All matters are reduced to uncertainty. How shall I place confidence in my resources? I wish the Gods had destroyed you, before you were lost to your own country, Aristophontes, who, from a plot well concerted, are making it disconcerted. This plan is ruined, outright, unless I find out for myself some extremely bold device.
HEG. (to ARISTOPHONTES). Follow me. See, there is the man; go to him and address him.
TYND. (aside, and turning away). What mortal among mortals is there more wretched than myself?
ARIST. (coming up to him). Why's this, that I'm to say that you are avoiding my gaze, Tyndarus? And why that you are slighting me as a stranger, as though you had never known me? Why, I'm as much a slave as yourself; although at home I was a free man, you, even from your childhood, have always served in slavery in Elia.
HEG. I' faith, I'm very little surprised, if either he does avoid your gaze, or if he does shun you, who are calling him Tyndarus, instead of Philocrates.
TYND. Hegio, this person was accounted a madman in Elis. Don't you give ear to what he prates about; for at home he has pursued his father and mother with spears, and that malady sometimes comes upon him which is spit out [1]. Do you this instant stand away at a distance from him.
HEG. (_to _the SLAVES). Away with him further off from me.
ARIST. Do you say, you whipp'd knave, that I am mad, and do you declare that I have followed my own father with spears? And that I have that malady, that it's necessary for me to be spit upon [2]?
HEG. Don't be dismayed; that malady afflicts many a person to whom it has proved wholesome to be spit upon, and has been of service to them.
ARIST. Why, what do you say? Do you, too, credit him?
HEG. Credit him in what? ARIST. That I am mad?
TYND. Do you see him, with what a furious aspect he's looking at you? 'Twere best to retire, Hegio; it is as I said, his frenzy grows apace; have a care for yourself.
HEG. I thought that he was mad, the moment that he called you Tyndarus.
TYND. Why, he's sometimes ignorant of his own name and doesn't know what it is.
HEG. But he even said that you were his intimate friend.
TYND. So far from that, I never saw him. Why, really, Alcmaeon, and Orestes, and Lycurgus [3] besides, are my friends on the same principle that he is.
ARIST. Villain, and do you dare speak ill of me, as well? Do I not know you?
HEG. I' faith, it really is very clear that you don't know him, who are calling him Tyndarus, instead of Philocrates Him whom you see, you don't know; you are addressing him as the person whom you don't see.
ARIST. On the contrary this fellow's saying that he is the person who he is not; and he says that he is not the person who he really is.
TYND. You've been found, of course, to excel Philocrates in truthfulness.
ARIST. By my troth, as I understand the matter, you've been found to brazen out the truth by lying. But i' faith, prithee, come then, look at mde.
TYND. (looking at him). Well! ARIST. Say, now; do you deny that you are Tyndarus?
TYND. I do deny it, I say.
ARIST. Do you say that you are Philocrates?
TYND. I do say so, I say.
ARIST. (to HEGIO). And do you believe him?
HEG. More, indeed, than either you or myself. For he, in fact, who you say that he is (pointing to TYNDARUS), has set out hence to-day for Elis, to this person's father.
ARIST. What father, when he's a slave. [4]
TYND. And so are you a slave, and yet you were a free man; and I trust that so I shall be, if I restore his son here to liberty.
ARIST. How say you, villain? Do you say that you were born a free man [liber]?
TYND. I really do not say that I am Liber [5], but that I am
Philocrates.
ARIST. How's this? How this scoundrel, Hegio, is making sport of you now. For he's a slave himself, and never, except his own self, had he a slave.
TYND. Because you yourself are destitute in your own country, and haven't whereon to live at home, you wish all to be found like to yourself; you don't do anything surprising. 'Tis the nature of the distressed to be ill-disposed, and to envy the fortunate.
ARIST. Hegio, take you care, please, that you don't persist in rashly placing confidence in this man; for so far as I see, he is certainly now putting some device in execution, in saying that he is redeeming your son from captivity; that is by no means satisfactory to me.
TYND. I know that you don't wish that to be done; still I shall effect it, if the Gods assist me. I shall bring him back here, and he will restore me to my father, in Elis. For that purpose have I sent Tyndarus hence to my father.
ARIST. Why, you yourself are he; nor is there any slave in Elis of that name, except yourself.
TYND. Do you persist in reproaching me with being a slave—a thing that has befallen me through the fortune of war?
ARIST. Really, now, I cannot contain myself.
TYND. (to HEGIO). Ha! don't you hear him? Why don't you take to flight? He'll be pelting us just now with stones there, unless you order him to be seized.
ARIST. I'm distracted. TYND. His eyes strike fire; there's need of a rope, Hegio. Don't you see how his body is spotted all over with livid spots? Black bile [6] is disordering the man.
ARIST. And, by my faith, if this old gentleman is wise, black pitch [7] will be disordering you with the executioner, and giving a light to your head.
TYND. He's now talking in his fit of delirium; sprites are in possession of the man.
HEG. By my troth, suppose I order him to be seized?
TYND. You would be acting more wisely.
ARIST. I'm vexed that I haven't a stone, to knock out the brains of that whip-scoundrel, who's driving mo to madness by his taunts.
TYND. Don't you hear that he's looking for a stone?
ARIST. I wish to speak with you alone, separately, Hegio.
HEG. Speak from where you are, if you want anything; though at a distance, I shall hear you.
TYND. Yes, for, by my faith, if you approach nearer, he'll to taking your nose off with his teeth.
ARIST. By heavens, Hegio, don't you believe that I am mad, or that I ever was so, or that I have the malady which that fellow avers. But if you fear anything from me, order me to be bound: I wish it, so long as that fellow is bound as well.
TYND. Why really, Hegio, rather let him be bound that wishes it.
ARIST. Now hold your tongue! I'll make you, you false Philocrates, to be found out this day to be a real Tyndarus. Why are you making signs [8] at me?
TYND. I, making signs at you? (To HEGIO.) What would he do, if you were at a greater distance off?
HEG. What do you say? What if I approach this madman?
TYND. Nonsense; you'll be made a fool of; he'll be prating stuff, to you, neither the feet nor the head of which will ever be visible. The dress only [9] is wanting; in seeing this man, you behold Ajax himself.
HEG. I don't care; still I'll approach him. (Advances to
ARISTOPHONTES.)
TYND. (aside). Now am I utterly undone; now between the sacrifice and the stone [10] do I stand, nor know I what to do.
HEG. I lend you my attention, Aristophontes, if there is anything that you would wish with me.
ARIST. From me you shall hear that truth, which now you think to be false, Hegio. But I wish, in the first place, to clear myself from this with you—that madness does not possess me, and that I have no malady, except that I am in captivity; and, so may the King of Gods and of men make me to regain my native land, that fellow there is no more Philocrates than either I or you.
HEG. Come, then, tell me who he is?
ARIST. He whom I've told you all along from the beginning. If you shall find him any other than that person, I show no cause why I shouldn't suffer the loss with you both of my parents and of my liberty for ever.
HEG. (to TYNDARUS). What say you to this?
TYND. That I am your slave, and you my master.
HEG. I didn't ask that—were you a free man?
TYND. I was. ARIST. But he really wasn't; he is deceiving you.
TYND. How do you know? Were you, perchance, the midwife of my mother, since you dare to affirm this so boldly?
ARIST. When a boy, I saw yourself, a boy.
TYND. But, grown up, I now see you grown up; so, there's for you, in return. If you did right, you wouldn't be troubling yourself about my concerns; do I trouble myself about yours?
HEG. Was his father called Thesaurochrysonicocroesides?
ARIST. He was not; and I never heard that name before this day.
Theodoromedes was the father of Philocrates.
TYND. (aside). I'm downright undone. Why don't you be quiet, heart of mine? Go and be stretched, and hang yourself; you are throbbing so, that unfortunate I can hardly stand up for my fear.
HEG. Is a full assurance given me that this was a slave in Elis, and that he is not Philocrates?
ARIST. So fully, that you will never find this to be otherwise; but where is he [11] now?
HEG. Where I the least, and he the most could wish himself. In consequence, then, I'm cut asunder, [12] disjointed, to my sorrow, by the devices of this scoundrel, who has bamboozled me by his tricks just as he has thought fit. But do, please, have a care that you are right.
ARIST. Why, I assure you of this, as an ascertained and established fact.
HEG. For certain? ARIST. Why, nothing, I say, will you find more certain than this certainty. Philocrates, from when a boy, has ever since that time been my friend.
HEG. But of what appearance is your friend Philocrates?
ARIST. I'll tell you: with a thin face, sharp nose, light hair, dark eyes, somewhat ruddy, with hair rather crisp and curling.
HEG. The description is like. TYND. (aside). Aye, so much so, indeed, that I've this day, much to my sorrow, got into the midst of this, i' faith. Woe to those unfortunate rods, which this day will be meeting their end upon my back.
HEG. I see that I've been imposed upon.
TYND. (aside). Why, fetters, do you delay to run towards me and to embrace my legs that I may have you in custody?
HEG. And have these two rascally captives really deceived me this day with their tricks? the other one pretended that he was the servant and this one that he himself was the master. I've lost a kernal; for a security, I've left the shell. To such a degree have they imposed upon me, [13] both on this side and that, with their trickeries. Still, this fellow shall never have the laugh against me. Colaphus, Cordalio, Corax [14] (to the SLAVES), go you away and bring out the thongs.
SLAVE. Are we to be sent to gather faggots [15]? (_The _SLAVES go and bring the thongs from the house.)
[Footnote 1: Which is spit out)—Ver. 566. Some would render the words "qui sputatur," "which is spit upon," and fancy that they find authorities in the ancient writers for thinking that epilepsy was treated by spitting upon the patient. However, it seems much more probable, that the notion was that epilepsy was cured by the patient himself spitting out the noxious saliva; and that the word "sputatur" means, "is spit out," i. e. "is cured by spitting." Celsus thus describes the "comitialis morbus," "epilepsy," or "falling sickness: " "The person seized, suddenly falls down; foam drops from the mouth; then, after a little time, he comes to himself, and gets up again without any assistance." Pliny, in his Natural History, B. 38, c. 4, says: "Despuimus comitiales morbos, hoc est, contagia regerimus," "We spit out the epilepsy, that is, we avert the contagion." This is said, probably, in reference to a belief, that on seeing an epileptic person, if we spit, we shall avoid the contagion; but it by no means follows that the person so doing must spit upon the epileptic person. We read in the first Book of Samuel, ch. xxi., ver. 12: "And David laid up these words in his heart, and was sore afraid of Achish, the King of Gath. And he changed his behaviour before them, and feigned himself mad in their hands, and scrabbled on the doors of the gate, and let his spittle fall down on his beard." He probably pretended to be attacked with epileptic fits. In fact, after due examination, there seems little doubt that it was a common notion with the ancients that the distemper was discharged with the saliva.]
[Footnote 2: To be spit upon)—Ver. 569. Aristophontes has understood the words, "qua spitatur," in the sense of "which is spit upon," and asks Tyndarus if he affirms that he is afflicted with a disease which requires such treatment. Hegio, to pacify him, and to show off his medical knowledge, tells him that it has proved beneficial in some diseases to be so treated; but he does not go so far as to say what those diseases were. One malady, called "herpes," or "spreading ulcer," was said to be highly contagions, but capable of being cured by applications of saliva. Some Commentators here quote the method which our Saviour adopted in curing the blind man at Bethsaida: "And he took the blind man by the hand, and led him out of the town: and when he had spat on his eyes and put his hands upon him, he asked him if be saw aught." St. Mark, ch. viii., ver. 23. And again, the account given in the ninth chapter of St. John, ver. 6: "When he had thus spoken, he spat on the ground, and made clay of the spittle, and he anointed the eyes of the blind man with the clay." It may be possible that our Saviour thought fit to adopt these forms, in imitation of some of the methods of treating diseases in those times; though, of course, his transcendent power did not require their agency. Rost, in his Commentaries on Plautus, has very learned disquisition on the meaning of the present passage.]
[Footnote 3: Alcmaeon, and Orestes, and Lycurgus)—Ver. 568. He alludes to these three persons as being three of the most celebrated men of antiquity that were attacked with frenzy. Orestes slew his mother, Clytemnestra; Alcmaeon killed his mother, Eriphyle; and Lycurgus, King of Thrace, on slighting the worship of Bacchus, was afflicted with madness, in a fit of which he hewed off his own legs with a hatchet.]
[Footnote 4: When he's a slave)—Ver. 580. Slaves were not considered to have any legal existence; and, therefore, to have neither parents or relations.]
[Footnote 5: That I am Liber)—Ver. 584. Aristophontes asks him if he means to assert that he was born a free man, "liber." As "Liber" was also a name of Bacchus, Tyndarus quibbles, and says, "I did not assert that I am Liber, but that I am Philocrates." In consequence of the idiom of the Latin language, his answer (non equidem me Liberam, sed Philocratem esse aio) will admit of another quibble, and may be read as meaning, "I did not say that I am a free man, but that Philocrates is." This maybe readily seen by the Latin scholar, but is not so easily explained to the English reader]
[Footnote 6: Black bile)—Ver. 602. A superabundance of the bile was supposed to be productive of melancholy madness. The word "melancholy" is from the Greek [Greek: melangcholia], "black bile."]
[Footnote 7: Black pitch)—Ver. 603. He alludes to a frightful punishment inflicted upon malefactors by the Romans. They were either smeared over with burning pitch, or were first covered with pitch, which was then set fire to. This punishment is supposed to have been often inflicted upon the early Christians. Juvena alludes to it in his First Satire, I. 155:
Pone Tigellinum, taeda lucebis in illa,
Qua stantes ardent, qui fixo gutture fumant.
Describe Tigellinus [an infamous minister of Nero], and yon shall give a light by those torches, in which those stand and burn who send forth smoke with a stake driven into their throat."]
[Footnote 8: Why are you making signs)—Ver. 617. "Abnutas." The verb "abnuto" means, "to nod to a person that he may desist." Tyndarus thinks that by this time Aristophontes must surely understand the plan that has been devised for the escape of Philocrates; and, as he is about to step aside to speak with Hegio, he makes a sign, requesting him to stop short in his contradiction of what he has asserted.]
[Footnote 9: The dress only)—Ver. 620. By "ornamenta" he means the dress of Tragedy. The dresses of Comedy were essentially different from those of Tragedy. He means to say, "the man is mad; if he had only the Tragic garb on, you might take him for Ajax Telamon in his frenzy." On being refused the arms of Achilles, Ajax became mad, and slaughtered a flock of sheep fancying that they were Ulysses and the sons of Atreus.]
[Footnote 10: The sacrifice and the stone)—Ver. 624. We learn from Livy, that in the most ancient times the animal for sacrifice was killed by being struck with a stone; to stand between the victim and the stone, would consequently imply, to be in a position of extreme danger.]
[Footnote 11: But where is he)—Ver. 645. Tyndarus has probably betaken himself to some corner of the stage, and Aristophontes misses him from his former position.]
[Footnote 12: Cut asunder)—Ver. 646. "Deruncinatus" means, literally, cut asunder with a "runcina," or "saw."]
[Footnote 13: Have they imposed upon me)—Ver. 661. "Os sublevere offuciis." Literally "painted my face with varnish." This expression is probably derived from the practice of persons concealing their defects, by painting over spots or freckles in the face for the purpose of hiding them.]
[Footnote 14: Colaphus, Cordalio, Corax)—Ver. 662. These are the names of slaves. "Colaphus" means, also, "a blow with the fist." "Corax" was the Greek name for a "crow," and was probably given to a black slave.]
[Footnote 15: To gather faggots)—Ver. 663. He asks this question because cords, "lora," were necessary for the purpose of binding up faggots.]
HEG. (_to the _SLAVES). Put the manacles on this whipp'd villain.
TYND. (whilst the SLAVES are fastening him). What's the matter? What have I done wrong?
HEG. Do you ask the question? You weeder and sower of villanies, and in especial their reaper.
TYND. Ought you not to have ventured to say the harrower first? For countrymen always harrow before they weed.
HEG. Why, with what assurance he stands before me.
TYND. It's proper for a servant, innocent and guiltless, to be full of confidence, most especially before his master.
HEG. (_to the _SLATES). Bind this fellow's hands tightly, will you.
TYND. I am your own—do you command them to be cut off even. But what is the matter on account of which you blame me?
HEG. Because me and my fortunes, so far as in you singly lay, by your rascally and knavish stratagems you have rent in pieces, and have districted my affairs and spoiled all my resources and my plans, in that you've thus robbed me of Philocrates by your devices. I thought that he was the slave, you the free man. So did you say yourselves, and in this way did you change names between you.
TYND. I confess that all was done so, as you say, and that by a stratagem he has got away from you, through my aid and cleverness; and prithee, now, do you blame me for that, i' faith?
HEG. Why, it has been done with your extreme torture for the consequence.
TYND. So I don't die by reason of my misdeeds, I care but little. If I do die here, then he returns not, as he said he would; but when I'm dead, this act will be remembered to my honor, that I caused my captive master to return from slavery and the foe, a free man, to his father in his native land; and that I preferred rather to expose my own life to peril, than that he should be undone.
HEG. Take care, then, to enjoy that fame at Acheron.
TYND. He who dies for virtue's sake, still does not perish.
HEG. When I've tortured you in the most severe manner, and for your schemes put you to death, let them say either that you have perished or that you have died; so long as you do die, I don't think it matters if they say you live.
TYND. I' faith, if you do do so, you'll do it not without retribution, if he shall return here, as I trust that he will return.
ARIST. (aside). O ye immortal Gods! I understand it now; now I know what the case really is. My friend Philocrates is at liberty with his father, in his native land. 'Tis well; nor have I any person to whom I could so readily wish well. But this thing grieves me, that I've done this person a bad turn, who now on account of me and my talking is in chains.
HEG. (to TYNDARUS). Did I not forbid you this day to utter anything false to me?
TYND. You did forbid me. HEG. Why did you dare to tell me lies?
TYND. Because the truth would have prejudiced him whom I was serving; now falsehood has advantaged him.
HEG. But it will prejudice yourself.
TYND. 'Tis very good. Still, I have saved my master, whom I rejoice at being saved, to whom my elder master had assigned me as a protector. But do you think that this was wrongly done?
HEG. Most wrongfully. TYND. But I, who disagree with you, say, rightly. For consider, if any slave of yours had done this for your son, what thanks you would have given him. Would you have given that slave his freedom or not? Would not that slave have been in highest esteem with you? Answer me that.
HEG. I think so. TYND. Why, then, are you angry with me?
HEG. Because you have proved more faithful to him than to myself.
TYND. How now? Did you expect, in a single night and day, for yourself to teach me—a person just made captive, a recent slave, and in his noviciate—that I should rather consult your interest than his, with whom from childhood I have passed my life?
HEG. Seek, then, thanks from him for that. (To the SLAVES.) Take him where he may receive weighty and thick fetters, thence, after that, you shall go to the quarries for cutting stone. There, while the others are digging out eight stones, unless you daily do half as much work again, you shall have the name of the six-hundred-stripe man [1].
ARIST. By Gods and men, I do entreat you, Hegio, not to destroy this man.
HEG. He shall be taken all care of [2]. For at night, fastened with chains, he shall be watched; in the daytime, beneath the ground, he shall be getting out stone. For many a day will I torture him; I'll not respite him for a single day.
ARIST. Is that settled by you? HEG. Not more settled that I shall die. (To the SLAVES.) Take him away this instant to Hippolytus, the blacksmith; bid thick fetters to be rivetted on him. From there let him be led outside the gate to my freedman, Cordalus, at the stone-quarries. And tell him that I desire this man so to be treated, that he mayn't be in any respect worse off than he who is the most severely treated.
TYND. Why, since you are unwilling, do I desire myself to survive? At your own hazard is the risk of my life. After death, no evil have I to apprehend in death. Though I should live even to extreme age, still, short is the space for enduring what you threaten me with. Farewell and prosper; although you are deserving for me to say otherwise. You, Aristophontes, as you have deserved of me, so fare you; for on your account has this befallen me.
HEG. (to the SLAVES). Carry him off.
TYND. But this one thing I beg, that, if Philocrates should come back here, you will give me an opportunity of meeting him.
HEG. (to the SLAVES). At your peril, if you don't this instant remove him from my sight. (The SLAVES lay hold of TYNDARUS, and push him along.)
TYND. I' troth, this really is violence [3], to be both dragged and pushed at the same time. (He is borne off by the SLAVES.)
[Footnote 1: Six-hundred-stripe man)—Ver. 731. "Sexcentoplago."
This is a compound word, coined by the author.]
[Footnote 2: He shall be taken all care of)—Ver. 733. Struck with admiration at his fidelity, Aristophontes begs Hegio not to destroy Tyndarus. As the verb "perduis" might also mean "lose" him, Hegio ironically takes it in the latter sense, and says that there is no fear of that, for he shall be well taken care of; or, in other words, strictly watched.]
[Footnote 3: This really is violence)—Ver. 755. According to Suetonius, Julius Caesar used an exactly similar expression when first attacked by his murderers in the senate-house. On Tullius Cimber seizing bold of his garments he exclaimed, "Ita quidem vis est!" "Why, really, this is violence!"]
HEG. He has been led off straight to prison [1], as he deserves. Let no one presume to attempt such an enterprise. Had it not been for you who discovered this to me, still would they have been leading me by the bridle with their tricks. Now am I resolved henceforth never to trust any person in anything. This once I have been deceived enough; I did hope, to my sorrow, that I had rescued my son from slavery. That hope has forsaken me. I lost one son, whom, a child in his fourth year, a slave stole from me; and, indeed, never since have I found either slave or son; the elder one has fallen in the hands of the enemy. What guilt is this of mine? As though I had become the father of children for the purpose of being childless. (To ARISTOPHONTES.) Follow this way. I'll conduct you back where you were. I'm determined to have pity upon no one, since no one has pity upon me.
ARIST. Forth from my chains with evil omen did I come; now I perceive that with like ill omen to my bonds I must return. (Exeunt.
[Footnote 1: To prison)—Ver. 756. "Phylacam." This is a Greek word Latinized, meaning "prison" or "confinement."]
Enter ERGASILUS. [1]
ERG. Supreme Jove! thou dost preserve me, and dost augment my means. Plenty, extreme and sumptuous, dost thou present to me; celebrity, profit, enjoyment, mirth, festivity, holidays, sights, provisions, carousings, abundance, joyousness. And to no man have I now determined with myself to go a-begging; for I'm able either to profit my friend or to destroy my enemy, to such extent has this delightful day heaped delights upon me in its delightfulness. I have lighted upon a most rich inheritance without incumbrances [2]. Now will I wend my way to this old gentleman Hegio, to whom I am carrying blessings as great as he himself prays for from the Gods, and even greater. Now, this is my determination, in the same fashion that the slaves of Comedy [3] are wont, so will I throw my cloak around my neck, that from me, the first of all, he may learn this matter. And I trust that I, by reason of this news, shall find provision up to the end.
[Footnote 1: Ergasilus) He has just come from the harbour, where he has seen the son of Hegio, together with Philocrates and Stalagmus, landing from the packet-boat. Now, as he speaks still of his intended dinner with Hegio, to which he had been invited in the earlier part of the Play, we must conclude, that since then, Philocrates has taken ship from the coast of Aetolia, arrived in Elis, procured the liberation of Philopolemus, and returned with him, all in the space of a few hours. This, however, although the coast of Elis was only about fifteen miles from that of Aetolia, is not at all consistent with probability; and the author has been much censured by some Commentators, especially by Lessing, on account of his negligence It must, however, be remembered, that Plautus was writing for a Roman audience, the greater part of whom did not know whether Elis was one mile or one hundred from the coast of Aetolia. We may suppose, too, that Philopolemus had already caused Stalagmus, the runaway slave, to be apprehended before the arrival of Philocrates in Elis.]
[Footnote 2: An inheritance without incumbrance)—Ver. 780. "Sine sacra hereditas." The meaning of this expression has been explained in the Notes to the Trinummus, 484.]
[Footnote 3: Slaves of Comedy)—Ver. 783. This was done that, when expedition was required, the cloak might not prove an obstruction to the wearer as he walked. The slaves in Comedies usually wore the "pallium," and as they were mostly active, bustling fellows, would have it tucked tightly around them. The "pallium" was usually worn passed over the left shoulder, then drawn behind the back, and under the left arm, leaving it bare, and then thrown again over the left shoulder.]
HEG. (to himself). The more that I revolve this matter in my breast, the more is my uneasiness of mind increased. That I should have been duped in this fashion to-day! and that I wasn't able to see through it! When this shall be known, then I shall be laughed at all over the city. The very moment that I shall have reached the Forum, all will be saying, "This is that clever old gentleman, who had the trick played him." But is this Ergasilus, that I see coming at a distance? Surely he has got his cloak gathered up; what, I wonder, is he going to do?
ERG. (advancing, and talking to himself). Throw aside from you all tardiness, Ergasilus, and speed on this business. I threaten, and I strictly charge no person to stand in my way, unless any one shall be of opinion that he has lived long enough. For whoever does come in my way, shall stop me upon his face. (He runs along, flourishing his arms about.)
HEG. (to himself). This fellow's beginning to box.
ERG. (to himself). I'm determined to do it; so that every one may pursue his own path, let no one be bringing any of his business in this street; for my fist is a balista, my arm is my catapulta, my shoulder a battering-ram; then against whomsoever I dart my knee, I shall bring him to the ground. I'll make all persons to be picking up their teeth [1], whomsoever I shall meet with.
HEG. (to himself). What threatening is this? For I cannot wonder enough.
ERG. I'll make him always to remember this day and place, and myself as well. Whoever stops me upon my road, I'll make him put a stop to his own existence.
HEG. (to himself). What great thing is this fellow preparing to do, with such mighty threats?
ERG. I first give notice, that no one, by reason of his own fault, may be caught—keep yourselves in-doors at home, and guard yourselves from my attack.
HEG. (to himself). By my faith, 'tis strange if he hasn't got this boldness by means of his stomach. Woe to that wretched man, through whose cheer this fellow has become quite swaggering.
ERG. Then the bakers, that feed swine, that fatten their pigs upon refuse bran, through the stench of which no one can pass by a baker's shop; if I see the pig of any one of them in the public way, I'll beat the bran out of the masters' themselves with my fists.
HEG. (to himself). Royal and imperial edicts does he give out.
The fellow is full; he certainly has his boldness from his stomach.
ERG. Then the fishmongers, who supply stinking fish to the public—who are carried about on a gelding, with his galloping galling pace [2]—the stench of whom drives all the loungers in the Basilica [3] into the Forum, I'll bang their heads with their bulrush fish-baskets, that they may understand what annoyance they cause to the noses of other people. And then the butchers, as well, who render the sheep destitute of their young—who agree with you about killing lamb [4], and then offer you lamb at double the price—who give the name of wether mutton to a ram—if I should only see that ram in the public way, I'll make both ram and owner most miserable beings.
HEG. (to himself). Well done! He really does give out edicts fit for an Aedile, and 'tis indeed a surprising thing if the Aetolians haven't made him inspector of markets [5].
ERG. No Parasite now am I, but a right royal king of kings; so large a stock of provision for my stomach is there at hand in the harbour. But why delay to overwhelm this old gentleman Hegio with gladness? With him, not a person among mankind exists equally fortunate.
HEG. (apart). What joy is this, that he, thus joyous, is going to impart to me?
ERG. (_knocking at HEGIO'S door_). Hallo, hallo!—where are you? Is any one coming to open this door?
HEG. (apart). This fellow's betaking himself to my house to dine.
ERG. Open you both these doors [6], before I shall with knocking cause the destruction, piecemeal, of the doors.
HEG. (apart). I'd like much to address the fellow. (Aloud.) Ergasilus!
ERG. Who's calling Ergasilus?
HEG. Turn round, and look at me.
ERG. (not seeing who it is). A thing that Fortune does not do for you, nor ever will do, you bid me to do. But who is it.
HEG. Look round at me. 'Tis Hegio.
ERG. (turning round). O me! Best of the very best of men, as many as exist, you have arrived opportunely.
HEG. You've met with some one at the harbour to dine with; through that you are elevated.
ERG. Give me your hand. HEG. My hand?
ERG. Give me your hand, I say, this instant.
HEG. Take it. (Giving him his hand.)
ERG. Rejoice. HEG. Why should I rejoice?
ERG. Because I bid you; come now, rejoice.
HEG. I' faith, my sorrows exceed my rejoicings.
ERG. 'Tis not so, as you shall find; I'll at once drive away every spot of sorrow [7] from your body. Rejoice without restraint.
HEG. I do rejoice, although I don't at all know why I should rejoice.
ERG. You do rightly; now order—HEG. Order what?
ERG. A large fire to be made.
HEG. A large fire? ERG. So I say, that a huge one it must be.
HEG. What, you vulture, do you suppose that for your sake I'm going to set my house on fire?
ERG. Don't be angry. Will you order, or will you not order, the pots to be put on, and the saucepans to be washed out, the bacon and the dainties to be made warm in the heated cooking-stoves, another one, too, to go purchase the fish?
HEG. This fellow's dreaming while awake.
ERG. Another to buy pork, and lamb, and pullets.
HEG. You understand how to feed well, if you had the means.
ERG. Gammons of bacon, too, and lampreys, spring pickled tunny- fish, mackerel, and sting-ray; large fish, too, and soft cheese.
HEG. You will have more opportunity, Ergasilus, here at my house, of talking about these things than of eating them.
ERG. Do you suppose that I'm saying this on my own account?
HEG. You will neither be eating nothing here to-day, nor yet much more than usual, so don't you be mistaken. Do you then bring an appetite to my house for your every-day fare.
ERG. Why, I'll so manage it, that you yourself shall wish to be profuse, though I myself should desire you not.
HEG. What, I? ERG. Yes, you.
HEG. Then you are my master. ERG. Yes, and a kindly disposed one.
Do you wish me to make you happy?
HEG. Certainly I would, rather than miserable.
ERG. Give me your hand. HEG. (extending his hand) Here is my hand.
ERG. All the Gods are blessing you.
HEG. I don't feel it so. ERG. Why, you are not in a quickset hedge,[8] therefore you don't feel it; but order the vessels, in a clean state, to be got for you forthwith in readiness for the sacrifice, and one lamb to be brought here with all haste, a fat one.
HEG. Why? ERG. That you may offer sacrifice.
HEG. To which one of the Gods?
ERG. To myself, i' faith, for now am I your supreme Jupiter. I likewise am your salvation, your fortune, your life, your delight, your joy. Do you at once, then, make this Divinity propitious to you by cramming him.
HEU. You seem to me to be hungry.
ERG. For myself am I hungry, and not for you.
HEG. I readily allow of it at your own good will.
ERG. I believe you; from a boy you were in the habit—[9]
HEG. May Jupiter and the Gods confound you.
ERG. I' troth, 'tis fair that for my news you should return me thanks; such great happiness do I now bring you from the harbour.
HEG. Now you are flattering me. Begone, you simpleton; you have arrived behind time, too late.
ERG. If I had come sooner, then for that reason you might rather have said that. Now, receive this joyous news of me which I bring you; for at the harbour I just now saw your son Philopolemus in the common fly-boat, alive, safe and sound, and likewise there that other young man together with him, and Stalagmus your slave, who fled from your house, who stole from you your little son, the child of four years old.
HEG. Away with you to utter perdition! You are trifling with me
ERG. So may holy Gluttony [10] love me, Hegio, and so may she ever dignify me with her name, I did see—
HEG. My son? ERG. Your son, and my good Genius.
HEG. That Elean captive, too?
ERG. Yes, by Apollo. [11]
HEG. The slave, too? My slave Stalagmus, he that stole my son—?
ERG. Yes, by Cora HEG. So long a time ago?
ERG. Yes, by Praeneste! HEG. Is he arrived?
ERG. Yes, by Signia! HEG. For sure?
ERG. Yes, by Phrysinone! HEG. Have a care, if you please.
ERG. Yes, by Alatrium! HEG. Why are you swearing by foreign cities?
ERG. Why, because they are just as disagreable as you were declaring your fare to be.
HEG. Woe be to you! ERG. Because that you don't believe me at all in what I say in sober earnestness. But of what country was Stalagmus, at the time when he departed hence?
HEG. A Sicilian. ERG. But now he is not a Sicilian—he is a Boian; he has got a Boian woman [12]. A wife, I suppose, has been given to him for the sake of obtaining children.
HEG. Tell me, have you said these words to me in good earnest?
ERG. In good earnest. HEG. Immortal Gods, I seem to be born again, if you are telling the truth.
ERG. Do you say so? Will you still entertain doubts, when I have solemnly sworn to you? In fine, Hegio, if you have little confidence in my oath, go yourself to the harbour and see.
HEG. I'm determined to do so. Do you arrange in-doors what's requisite. Use, ask for, take from my larder what you like; I appoint you cellarman.
ERG. Now, by my troth, if I have not prophesied truly to you, do you comb me out with a cudgel.
HEG. I'll find you in victuals to the end, if you are telling me the truth.
ERG. Whence shall it be? HEG. From myself and from my son.
ERG. Do you promise that? HEG. I do promise it.
ERG. But I, in return, promise [13] you that your son has arrived.
HEG. Manage as well as ever you can.
ERG. A happy walk there to you, and a happy walk back.
(Exit HEGIO.
[Footnote 1: To be picking up their teeth)—Ver. 803. "Dentilegos." He says that he will knock their teeth out, and so make them pick them up from the ground. We must suppose that while he is thus hurrying on, he is walking up one of the long streets which were represented as emerging on the Roman stage, opposite to the audience.]
[Footnote 2: Galling pace)—Ver. 819. "Crucianti" may mean either "tormenting" the spectator by reason of the slowness of its pace, or galling to the rider. "Quadrupedanti crucianti cauterio" is a phrase, both in sound and meaning, much resembling what our song-books call the "galloping dreary dun."]
[Footnote 3: In the Basilica)—Ver. 820. The "Basilica" was a building which served as a court of law, and a place of meeting for merchants and men of business. The name was perhaps derived from the Greek word Basileus, as the title of the second Athenian Archon, who had his tribunal or court of justice. The building was probably, in its original form, an insulated portico. The first edifice of this kind at Rome was erected B.C. 184; probably about the period when this Play was composed. It was situate in the Forum, and was built by Porcius Cato, from whom it was called the "Porcian Basilica." Twenty others were afterwards erected at different periods in the city. The loungers here mentioned, in the present instance, were probably sauntering about under the porticos of the Basilica, when their olfactory nerves were offended by the unsavoury smell of the fishermen's baskets.]
[Footnote 4: About killing lamb)—Ver. 824. In these lines he seems to accuse the butchers of three faults—cruelty, knavery, and extortion. The general reading is "duplam," but Rost suggests "dupla," "at double the price." If "duplam" is retained, might it not possibly mean that the butchers agree to kill lamb for you, and bring to you "duplam agninam," "double lamb," or, in other words, lamb twice as old as it ought to be? No doubt there was some particular age at which lamb, in the estimation of Ergasilus and his brother-epicures, was considered to be in its greatest perfection.]
[Footnote 5: Inspector of markets)—Ver. 829. "Agoranomum." The Aediles were the inspectors of markets at Rome, while the "Agoranomi" had a similar office in the Grecian cities.]
[Footnote 6: Both these doors)—Ver. 836. The street-doors of the ancients were generally "bivalve," or "folding-doors."]
[Footnote 7: Every spot of sorrow )—Ver. 846. He alludes, figuratively, to the art of the fuller or scourer, in taking the spots out of soiled garments.]
[Footnote 8: In a quickset hedge)—Ver. 865. Here is a most wretched attempt at wit, which cannot be expressed in a literal translation. Hegio says, "Nihil sentio," "I don't feel it." Ergasilus plays upon the resemblance of the verb "sentio" to "sentis" and "senticetum," a "bramble-bush" or quickset hedge;" and says, 'You don't feel it so," "non sentis," "because you are not in a quickset hedge,' "in senticeto." ]
[Footnote 9: From a boy)—Ver. 872. An indelicate allusion is covertly intended in this line. ]
[Footnote 10: So may holy Gluttony—Ver. 882. The Parasite very appropriately deifies Gluttony: as the Goddess of Bellyful would, of course, merit his constant worship.]
[Footnote 11: Yes, by Apollo)—Ver. 885. In the exuberance of his joy at his prospects of good eating, the Parasite gives this, and his next five replies, in the Greek language; just as the diner-out, and the man of bon-mots and repartee, might in our day couch his replies in French, with the shrug of the shoulder and the becoming grimace. He first swears by Apollo, and then by Cora, which may mean either a city of Campania so called, or the Goddess Proserpine, who was called by the Greeks, [Greek: Korae], "the maiden." He then swears by four places in Campania—Praeneste, Signia, Phrysinone, and Alatrium. As the scene is in Greece, Hegio asks him why he swears by these foreign places; to which he gives answer merely because they are as disagreable as the unsavoury dinner of vegetables which he had some time since promised him. This is, probably, merely an excuse for obtruding a slighting remark upon these places, which would meet with a ready response from a Roman audience, as the Campanians had sided with Hannibal against Rome in the second Punic war. They were probably miserable places on which the more refined Romans looked with supreme contempt.]
[Footnote 12: Got a Boian woman)—Vet. 893. There is an indelicate meaning in the expression "Buiam terere." The whole line is intended as a play upon words. "Boia" means either "a collar," which was placed round a prisoner's neck, or a female of the nation of the Boii in Gaul. "Boiam terere" may mean either "to have the prisoner's collar on," or, paraphrastically, "to be coupled with a Boian woman." Ergasilus having seen Stalagmus in the packet-boat with this collar on, declares that Stalagmus is a Sicilian no longer, for be has turned Boian, having a Boian helpmate.]
[Footnote 13: I, in return, promise)—Ver. 904. Ergasilus says, "Do you really promise me this fine entertainment?" To which, Hegio answers, "Spondeo," "I do promise." On this, Ergasilus replies, "that your son really has returned, I answer you," "respondeo," or, as he intends it to be meant, "I promise you once again," or "in return for your promise."]
ERG. He has gone away from here, and has entrusted to me the most important concern of catering. Immortal Gods! how I shall now be slicing necks off of sides; how vast a downfall will befall the gammon [1]; how vast a belabouring the bacon! How great a using-up of udders, how vast a bewailing for the brawn! How great a bestirring for the butchers, how great a preparation for the porksellers! But if I were to enumerate the rest of the things which minister to the supply of the stomach, 'twould be sheer delay. Now will I go off to my government, to give laws to the bacon, and, those gammons that are hanging uncondemned, [2] to give aid to them. (Goes into the house.)
[Footnote 1: Befall the gammon)—Ver. 908. An alliteration is employed in these two lines, which cannot be well kept up in a literal translation. As, however, in the translation an attempt is made to give the spirit of the passage, the literal meaning may be here stated. "Pernis pestis," "a plague to the gammons;" "labes larido," "a fall for the bacon;" "sumini absumedo," "a consumption of udder;" "callo calamitas," "destruction to the brawn;" and "laniis lassitudo," "weariness to the butchers." Sows' udder, with the milk in it, first dried, and then cooked in some peculiar manner, was considered a great delicacy by the Roman epicures.]
[Footnote 2: Hanging uncondemned)—Ver. 913. He'll commute the punishment of the gammons and hams, for they shall hang no longer.]
Enter a LAD, a servant of HEGIO.
LAD. May Jupiter and the Deities confound you, Ergasilus, and your stomach, and all Parasites, and every one who henceforth shall give a dinner to Parasites. Destruction and devastation and ruin have just now entered our house. I was afraid that he would be making an attack on me, as though he had been an hungry wolf. And very dreadfully, upon my faith, was I frightened at him; he made such a gnashing with his teeth. On his arrival, the whole larder, with the meat, he turned upside down. He seized a knife, and first cut off the kernels of the neck [1] from three sides. All the pots and cups he broke, except those that held a couple of gallons [2]; of the cook he made enquiry whether the salting pans could be set on the fire to be made hot. All the cellars in the house he has broken into, and has laid the store-closet [3] open. (At the door.) Watch him, servants, if you please; I'll go to meet the old gentleman. I'll tell him to get ready some provisions for his own self, if, indeed, he wishes himself to make use of any. For in this place, as this man, indeed, is managing, either there's nothing already, or very soon there will be nothing. (Exit.
[Footnote 1: The kernels of the neck)—Ver. 920. The "glandia" were the kernels or tonsils of the throat, situate just below the root of the tongue. These portions of the dead pig seem to have been much prized as delicate eating. Judging from the present passage, the whole side of the pig, including the half-head, was salted and dried in one piece: The first thing that the Parasite does, is to cut the kernels from off of three sides, which he has relieved from the punishment of hanging.]
[Footnote 2: A couple of gallons)—Ver. 921. "Modiales." Literally, containing a "modius," which contained sixteen sextarii, something more than a peck of dry-measure English.]
[Footnote 3: The store-closet)—Ver. 923. "Armarium" was to called because it was originally a place for keeping arms. It afterwards came to signify a cupboard in a wall, in which clothes, books, money, and other articles of value, were placed. It was generally in the "atrium," or principal room of the house. In this instance it evidently means the store-closet, distinguished from the larder and the]
HEG. To Jove and to the Deities I return with reason hearty thanks, inasmuch as they have restored you to your father, and inasmuch as they have delivered me from very many afflictions, which, while I was obliged to be here without you, I was enduring, and inasmuch as I see that that fellow (pointing to STALAGMUS) is in my power, and inasmuch as his word (pointing to PHILOCRATES) has been found true to me.
PHILOP. Enough now have I grieved from my very soul, and enough with care and tears have I disquieted myself. Enough now have I heard of your woes, which at the harbour you told me of. Let us now to this business.
PHIL. What now, since I've kept my word with you, and have caused him to be restored back again to freedom?
HEG. Philocrates, you have acted so that I can never return you thanks enough, in the degree that you merit from myself and my son.
PHILOP. Nay, but you can, father, and you will be able, and I shall be able; and the Divinities will give the means for you to return the kindness he merits to one who deserves so highly of us; as, my father, you are able to do to this person who so especially deserves it.
HEG. What need is there of words? I have no tongue with which to deny whatever you may ask of me.
PHIL. I ask of you to restore to me that servant whom I left here as a surety for myself; who has always proved more faithful to me than to himself; in order that for his services I may be enabled to give him a reward.
HEG. Because you have acted thus kindly, the favour shall be returned, the thing that you ask; both that and anything else that you shall ask of me, you shall obtain. And I would not have you blame me, because in my anger I have treated him harshly.
PHIL. What have you done? HEG. I confined him in fetters at the stone- quarries, when I found out that I had been imposed upon.
PHIL. Ah wretched me! That for my safety misfortunes should have happened to that best of men.
HEG. Now, on this account, you need not give me even one groat of silver [1] for him. Receive him of me without cost that he may be free.
PHIL. On my word, Hegio, you act with kindness; but I entreat that you will order this man to be sent for.
HEG. Certainly. (To the attendants, who immediately obey.) Where are you? Go this instant, and bring Tyndarus here. (To PHILOPOLEMUS and PHILOCRATES.) Do you go in-doors; in the meantime, I wish to enquire of this statue for whipping [2], what was done with my younger son. Do you go bathe in the meantime.
PHILOP. Philocrates, follow me this way in-doors.
PHIL. I follow you. (They go into the house.)
[Footnote 1: One groat of silver)—Ver. 952. "Libella" was the name of the smallest silver coin with the Romans, being the tenth part of a denarius. Hegio seems to make something of a favour of this, and to give his liberty to Tyndarus in consideration of his punishment; whereas he had originally agreed with Philocrates that, if Philopolemus was liberated, both he and Tyndarus should be set at liberty.]
[Footnote 2: This statue for whipping)—Ver. 956. The same expression occurs in the Pseudolus, I. 911.]
HEG. Come you, step this way, you worthy fellow, my fine slave.
STAL. What is fitting for me to do, when you, such a man as you are, are speaking false? I was never a handsome or a fine, or a good person, or an honest one, nor shall I ever be; assuredly, don't you be forming any hopes that I shall be honest.
HEG. You easily understand pretty well in what situation your fortunes are. If you shall prove truth-telling, you'll make your lot from bad somewhat better. Speak out, then, correctly and truthfully; but never yet truthfully or correctly have you acted.
STAL. Do you think that I'm ashamed to own it, when you affirm it?
HEG. But I'll make you to be ashamed; for I'll cause you to be blushes all over [1].
STAL. Heyday—you're threatening stripes, I suppose, to me, quite unaccustomed to them! Away with them, I beg. Tell me what you bring, that you may carry off hence what you are in want of.
HEG. Very fluent indeed. But now I wish this prating to be cut short.
STAL. As you desire, so be it done.
HEG. (to the AUDIENCE). As a boy he was very obedient [2]; now that suits him not. Let's to this business; now give your attention, and inform me upon what I ask. If you tell the truth, you'll make your fortunes somewhat better.
STAL. That's mere trifling. Don't you think that I know what I'm deserving of?
HEG. Still, it is in your power to escape a small portion of it, if not the whole.
STAL. A small portion I shall escape, I know; but much will befall me, and with my deserving it, because I both ran away, and stole your son and sold him.
HEG. To what person? STAL. To Theodoromedes the Polyplusian, in Elis, for six minae.
HEG. O ye immortal Gods! He surely is the father of this person,
Philocrates.
STAL. Why, I know him better than yourself, and have seen him more times.
HEG. Supreme Jove, preserve both myself and my son for me. (He goes to the door, and calls aloud.) Philocrates, by your good Genius, I do entreat you, come out, I want you.
[Footnote 1: Be blushes all over)—Ver. 967. He means that be will have him flogged until he is red all over.]
[Footnote 2: Was very obedient)—Ver. 971. An indelicate remark is covertly intended in this passage.]
PHIL. Hegio, here am I; if you want anything of me, command me.
HEG. He (pointing to STALAGMUS) declares that he sold my son to your father, in Elis, for six minae.
PHIL. (to STALAGMUS). How long since did that happen?
STAL. This is the twentieth year, commencing from it.
PHIL. He is speaking falsely. STAL. Either I or you do. Why, your father gave you the little child, of four years old, to be your own slave.
PHIL. What was his name? If you are speaking the truth, tell me that, then.
STAL. Paegnium, he used to be called; afterwards, you gave him the name of Tyndarus.
PHIL. Why don't I recollect you? STAL. Because it's the fashion for persons to forget, and not to know him whose favour is esteemed as worth nothing.
PHIL. Tell me, was he the person whom you sold to my father, who was given me for my private service?
STAL. It was his son (pointing to HEGIO).
HEG. Is this person now living? STAL. I received the money. I cared nothing about the rest.
HEG. (to PHILOCRATES). What do you say?
PHIL. Why, this very Tyndarus is your son, according, indeed, to the proofs that he mentions. For, a boy himself together with me from boyhood was he brought up, virtuously and modestly, even to manhood.
HEG. I am both unhappy and happy, if you are telling the truth. Unhappy for this reason, because, if he is my son, I have badly treated him. Alas! why have I done both more and less than was his due. That I have ill treated him I am grieved; would that it only could be undone. But see, he's coming here, in a guise not according to his deserts.
TYND. (to himself). I have seen many of the torments which take place at Acheron [1] often represented in paintings [2]; but most certainly there is no Acheron equal to where I have been in the stone- quarries. There, in fine, is the place where real lassitude must be undergone by the body in laboriousness. For when I came there, just as either jackdaws, or ducks, or quails, are given to Patrician children [3], for them to play with, so in like fashion, when I arrived, a crow was given [4] me with which to amuse myself. But see, my master's before the door; and lo! my other master has returned from Elis.
HEG. Hail to you, my much wished-for son.
TYND. Ha! how—my son? Aye, aye, I know why you pretend yourself to be the father, and me to be the son; it is
because, just as parents do, you give me the means of seeing the light [5].
PHIL. Hail to you, Tyndarus. TYND. And to you, for whose sake I am enduring these miseries.
PHIL. But now I'll make you in freedom come to wealth. For (pointing to HEGIO) this is your father; (pointing to STALAGMUS) that is the slave who stole you away from here when four years old, and sold you to my father for six minae. He gave you, when a little child, to me a little child, for my own service. He (pointing to STALAGMUS). has made a confession, for we have brought him back from Elis.
TYND. How, where's Hegio's son? PHIL. Look now; in-doors is your own brother.
TYND. How do you say? Have you brought that captive son of his?
PHIL. Why, he's in-doors, I say.
TYND. By my faith, you're done both well and happily.
PHIL. (pointing to HEGIO). Now this is your own father; (pointing to STALAGMUS) this is the thief who stole you when a little child.
TYND. But now, grown up, I shall give him grown up to the executioner for his thieving.
PHIL. He deserves it. TYND. I' faith, I'll deservedly give him the reward that he deserves. (To HEGIO.) But tell me I pray you, are you my father?
HEG, I am he, my son. TYND. Now, at length, I bring it to my recollection, when I reconsider with myself: troth, I do now at last recall to memory that I had heard, as though through a mist, that my father was called Hegio.
HEG. I am he. PHIL. I pray that your son may be lightened of these fetters, and this slave be loaded with them.
HEG. I'm resolved that that shall be the first thing attended to. Let's go in-doors, that the blacksmith may be sent for, in order that I may remove those fetters from you, and give them to him. (They go into the house.)
STAL. To one who has no savings of his own, you'll be rightly doing so [6].
The COMPANY of PLAYERS coming forward.
Spectators, this play is founded on chaste manners. No wenching is there in this, and no intriguing, no exposure of a child, no cheating out of money; and no young man in love here make his mistress free without his father's knowledge. The Poets find but few Comedies [7] of this kind, where good men might become better. Now, if it pleases you, and if we have pleased you, and have not been tedious, do you give this sign of it: you who wish that chaste manners should have their reward, give us your applause.
[Footnote 1: At Acheron)—Ver. 1003. He here speaks of Acheron, not as one of the rivers of hell, but as the infernal regions themselves.]
[Footnote 2: Represented in paintings)—Ver. 1003 Meursius thinks that the torments of the infernal regions were frequently represented in pictures, for the purpose of deterring men from evil actions, by keeping in view the certain consequences of their bad conduct.]
[Footnote 3: To Patrician children)—Ver. 1007. This passage is confirmed by what Pliny the Younger tells us in his Second Epistle. He says, that on the death of the son of Regulus, his father, in his grief, caused his favourite ponies and dogs, with his nightingales, parrots, and jackdaws, to be consumed on the funeral pile. It would certainly have been a greater compliment to his son's memory had he preserved them, and treated them kindly; but probably he intended to despatch them as playthings for the child in the other world.]
[Footnote 4: A crow was given)—Ver. 1009. "Upupa." He puns upon the twofold meaning of this word, which signified either "a mattock" or a bird called a "hoopoe," according to the context. To preserve the spirit of the pun, a somewhat different translation has been given.]
[Footnote 5: Of seeing the light)—Ver. 1013. He says, "You can only resemble a parent in the fact that you have given me the opportunity of seeing the light of day, by taking me out of the dark stone-quarries."]
[Footnote 6: Be rightly doing so)—Ver. 1033. Stalagmus chooses to take the word "dem" "may give," used by Hegio in its literal sense, and surlily replies, "I have nothing of my own by way of savings, 'peculium,' so I am the very person to whom you ought to give."]
[Footnote 7: Find but few Comedies)—Ver. 1038. He here confesses that he does not pretend to frame the plots of his Plays himself, but that he goes to Greek sources for them; and forgetting that "beggars most not be choosers," he complains that so very few of the Greek Comedies are founded upon chaste manners. Indeed, this Play is justly deemed the most pure and innocent of all the Plays of Plautus; and the Company are quite justified in the commendations which, in their Epilogue, they bestow on it, as the author has carried out the premise which he made in the Prologue (with only four slight exceptions), of presenting them with an immaculate Play.]
* * * * *
THEUROPIDES, a merchant of Athens.
SIMO, an aged Athenian, his neighbour.
PHILOLACHES, son of Theuropides.
CALLIDAMATES, a young Athenian, friend of Philolaches.
TRANIO, servant of Philolaches.
GRUMIO, servant of Theuropides.
PHANISCUS, servant of Callidamates.
ANOTHER SERVANT of Callidamates.
A BANKER.
A BOY.
PHILEMATIUM, a music-girl, mistress of Philolaches. SCAPHA, her attendant. DELPHIUM, mistress of Callidamates.
Scene—Athens: before the houses of THEUROPIDES and SIMO.
[Footnote 1: Mottellaria) This is a word probably derived from "mostellum," the diminutive of "monstrum," a "spectre" or "prodigy." It was probably coined by Plautus to serve as the title of this Play, which is called by several of the ancient Commentators by the name of "Phasma," "the Apparition."]
* * * * *
THE ACROSTIC ARGUMENT. [Supposed to have been written by Priscian the
Grammarian.]
PHILOLACHES has given liberty to (Manumisit) his mistress who has been bought by him, and he consumes all (Omnem) his substance in the absence of his father. When he returns, Tranio deceives the old man (Senem); he says that frightful (Terrifica) apparitions have been seen in the house, and (Et) that at once they had removed from it. A Usurer, greedy of gain (Lucripeta), comes up in the meantime, asking for the interest of some money, and again the old man is made sport of (Lusus) for the servant says that a deposit for a house which has been bought has been taken up (Acceptum) on loan. The old man enquires (Requirit) which it is; he says that of the neighbour next door. He then looks over (Inspectat) it. Afterwards he is vexed that he has been laughed at; still by (Ab) the companion of his son he is finally appeased.
* * * * *
GRU. Get out of the kitchen, will you; out of it, you whip- scoundrel, who are giving me your cavilling talk amid the platters; march out of the house, you ruin of your master. Upon my faith, if I only live, I'll be soundly revenged upon you in the country. Get out, I say, you steam of the kitchen. Why are you skulking thus?
TRA. Why the plague are you making this noise here before the house? Do you fancy yourself to be in the country[1]? Get out of the house; be off into the country. Go and hang yourself. Get away from the door. (Striking him.) There now, was it that you wanted?
GRU. (running away). I'm undone! Why are you beating me? TRA.
Because you want it.
GRU. I must endure it. Only let the old gentleman return home; only let him come safe home, whom you are devouring in his absence.
TRA. You don't say what's either likely or true, you blockhead, as to any one devouring a person in his absence.
GRU. Indeed, you town wit, you minion of the mob, do you throw the country in my teeth? Really, Tranio, I do believe that you feel sure that before long you'll be handed over to the mill. Within a short period, i' faith, Tranio, you'll full soon be adding to the iron-bound race [2] in the country. While you choose to, and have the opportunity, drink on, squander his property, corrupt my master's son, a most worthy young man, drink night and day, live like Greeks [3], make purchase of mistresses, give them their freedom, feed parasites, feast yourselves sumptuously. Was it thus that the old gentleman enjoined you when he went hence abroad? Is it after this fashion that he will find his property well husbanded? Do you suppose that this is the duty of a good servant, to be ruining both the estate and the son of his master? For I do consider him as ruined, when he devotes himself to these goings on. A person, with whom not one of all the young men of Attica was before deemed equally frugal or more steady, the same is now carrying off the palm in the opposite direction. Through your management and your tutoring has that been done.
TRA. What the plague business have you with me or with, what I do? Prithee, haven't you got your cattle in the country for you to look to? I choose to drink, to intrigue, to keep my wenches; this I do at the peril of my own back, and not of yours.
GRU. Then with what assurance he does talk! (Turning away in disgust.) Faugh!
TRA. But may Jupiter and all the Deities confound you; you stink of garlick, you filth unmistakeable, you clod, you he-goat, you pig-sty, you mixture of dog and she-goat.
GRU. What would you have to be done? It isn't all that can smell of foreign perfumes, if you smell of them; or that can take their places at table above their master, or live on such exquisite dainties as you live upon. Do you keep to yourself those turtle-doves, that fish, and poultry; let me enjoy my lot upon garlick diet. You are fortunate; I unlucky. It must be endured. Let my good fortune be awaiting me, your bad yourself.
TRA. You seem, Grumio, as though you envied me, because I enjoy myself and you are wretched. It is quite my due. It's proper for me to make love, and for you to feed the cattle; for me to fare handsomely, you in a miserable way.
GRU. O riddle for the executioner [4], as I guess it will turn out; they'll be so pinking you with goads, as you carry your gibbet [5] along the streets one day, as soon as ever the old gentleman returns here.
TERA. How do you know whether that mayn't happen to yourself sooner than to me? GRU. Because I have never deserved it; you have deserved it, and you now deserve it.
TRA. Do cut short the trouble of your talking, unless you wish a heavy mischance to befall you.
GRU. Are you going to give me the tares for me to take for the cattle? If you are not, give me the money. Go on, still persist in the way in which you've commenced! Drink, live like Greeks, eat, stuff yourselves, slaughter your fatlings!
TRA. Hold your tongue, and be off into the country; I intend to go to the Piraeus to get me some fish for the evening. To-morrow I'll make some one bring you the tares to the farm. What's the matter? Why now are you staring at me, gallows-bird?
GRU. I' faith, I've an idea that will be your own title before long.
TRA. So long as it is as it is, in the meantime I'll put up with that "before long."
GRU. That's the way; and understand this one thing, that that which is disagreable comes much more speedily than that which you wish for.
TRA. Don't you be annoying; now then, away with you into the country, and betake yourself off. Don't you deceive yourself, henceforth you shan't be causing me any impediment. (Exit.
GRU. (to himself). Is he really gone? Not to care one straw for what I've said! O immortal Gods, I do implore your aid, do cause this old gentleman of ours, who has now been three years absent from here, to return hither as soon as possible, before everything is gone, both house and land. Unless he does return here, remnants to last for a few months only are left. Now I'll be off to the country; but look! I see my master's son, one who has been corrupted from having been a most excellent young man. (Exit.
[Footnote 1: In the country)—Ver. 7. Grumio appears to have been cook and herdsman combined, and perhaps generally employed at the country farm of Thenropides. On this occasion he seems to have been summoned to town to cook for the entertainment which Philolaches is giving to his friends.]
[Footnote 2: The iron-bound race)—Ver. 18. The gang of slaves, who, for their malpractices, are working in the country in chains.]
[Footnote 3: Live like Greeks)—Ver. 21. "Pergraescamini." Though the Scene is at Athens, Plautus consults the taste of a Roman Audience, as on many other occasions, in making the Greeks the patterns of riotous livers. Asconius Pedianus says that at these entertainments the Greeks drank off a cup of wine every time they named a Divinity or mentioned a friend.]
[Footnote 4: Riddle for the executioner)—Ver. 52. Riddled with holes by the scourge of the executioner.]
[Footnote 5: You carry your gibbet—Ver. 53. Bearing his own cross; a refinement of torture which was too often employed upon malefactors.]
PHIL. (to himself). I've often thought and long reflected on it, and in my breast have held many a debate, and in my heart (if any heart I have) have revolved this matter, and long discussed it, to what thing I'm to consider man as like, and what form he has when he is born? I've now discovered this likeness. I think a man is like unto a new house when he is born. I'll give my proofs of this fact. (To the AUDIENCE.) And does not this seem to you like the truth? But so I'll manage that you shall think it is so. Beyond a doubt I'll convince you that it is true what I say. And this yourselves, I'm sure, when you have heard my words, will say is no otherwise than just as I now affirm that it is. Listen while I repeat my proofs of this fact; I want you to be equally knowing with myself upon this matter. As soon as ever a house is built up, nicely polished off [1], carefully erected, and according to rule, people praise the architect and approve of the house, they take from it each one a model for himself. Each one has something similar, quite at his own expense; they do not spare their pains. But when a worthless, lazy, dirty, negligent fellow betakes himself thither with an idle family, then is it imputed as a fault to the house, while a good house is being kept in bad repair. And this is often the case; a storm comes on and breaks the tiles and gutters; then a careless owner takes no heed to put up others. A shower comes on and streams down the walls; the rafters admit the rain; the weather rots the labours of the builder; then the utility of the house becomes diminished; and yet this is not the fault of the builder. But a great part of mankind have contracted this habit of delay; if anything can be repaired by means of money, they are always still putting it off, and don't * * * do it until the walls come tumbling down [2]; then the whole house has to be built anew. These instances from buildings I've mentioned; and now I wish to inform you how you are to suppose that men are like houses. In the first place then, the parents are the builders-up of the children, and lay the foundation for the children; they raise them up, they carefully train them to strength, and that they may be good both for service and for view before the public. They spare not either their own pains or their cost, nor do they deem expense in that to be an expense. They refine them, teach them literature, the ordinances, the laws; at their own cost and labour they struggle, that others may wish for their own children to be like to them. When they repair to the army, they then find them some relation [3] of theirs as a protector. At that moment they pass out of the builder's hands. One year's pay has now been earned; at that period, then, a sample is on view how the building will turn out. But I was always discreet and virtuous, just as long as I was under the management of the builder. After I had left him to follow the bent of my own inclinations, at once I entirely spoiled the labours of the builders. Idleness came on; that was my storm; on its arrival, upon me it brought down hail and showers, which overthrew my modesty and the bounds of virtue, and untiled them for me in an instant. After that I was neglectful to cover in again; at once passion like a torrent entered my heart; it flowed down even unto my breast, and soaked through my heart. Now both property, credit, fair fame, virtue, and honor have forsaken me; by usage have I become much worse, and, i' faith (so rotten are these rafters of mine with moisture), I do not seem to myself to be able possibly to patch up my house to prevent it from falling down totally once for all, from perishing from the foundation, and from no one being able to assist me. My heart pains me, when I reflect how I now am and how I once was, than whom in youthful age not one there was more active in the arts of exercise [4], with the quoit, the javelin, the ball, racing, arms, and horses. I then lived a joyous life [5]; in frugality and hardihood I was an example to others; all, even the most deserving, took a lesson from me for themselves. Now that I'm become worthless, to that, indeed, have I hastened through the bent of my inclinations. (He stands apart.)
[Footnote 1: Polished off)—Ver. 98. From this passage it would seem that pains were taken to give the houses a smooth and polished appearance on the outside.]
[Footnote 2: Walls come tumbling down)—Ver. 114. Warner remarks that a sentiment not unlike this is found in Scripture, Ecclesiastes, x. 18: "By much slothfulness, the building decayeth; and through idleness of the hands the house droppeth through." It may be also observed that the passage is very similar to the words of the parable of the foolish man who built his house upon sand, St. Matthew, vii. 26: "And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon that house, and it fell; and great was the fall thereof."]
[Footnote 3: Find them some relation)—Ver. 127. In the first year of military service the Roman youths were placed under the tutelage of some relation or friend.]
[Footnote 4: In the arts of exercise)—Ver. 147. "Arte gymnastica." Literally, "in the gymnastic art."]
[Footnote 5: Lived a joyous life)—Ver. 148. "Victitabam volup." Lambinus suggests that the true reading here is "hand volup," "not voluptuously."]
PHILE. On my word, for this long time I've not bathed in cold water with more delight than just now; nor do I think that I ever was, my dear Scapha, more thoroughly cleansed than now.
SCA. May the upshot of everything be unto you like a plenteous year's harvest.
PHILE. What has this harvest got to do with my bathing?
SCA. Not a bit more than your bathing has to do with the harvest.
PHILO. (apart). O beauteous Venus, this is that storm of mine which stripped off all the modesty with which I was roofed; through which Desire and Cupid poured their shower into my breast; and never since have I been able to roof it in. Now are my walls soaking in my heart; this building is utterly undone.
PHILE. Do look, my Scapha, there's a dear, whether this dress quite becomes me. I wish to please Philolaches my protector, the apple of my eye.
SCA. Nay but, you set yourself off to advantage with pleasing manners, inasmuch as you yourself are pleasing. The lover isn't in love with a woman's dress, but with that which stuffs out [1]the dress.
PHILO. (apart). So may the Gods bless me, Scapha is waggish; the hussy's quite knowing. How cleverly she understands all matters, the maxims of lovers too!
PHILE. Well now? SCA. What is it?
PHILE. Why look at me and examine, how this becomes me.
SCA. Thanks to your good looks, it happens that whatever you put on becomes you.
PHILO. (apart). Now then, for that expression, Scapha, I'll make you some present or other to-day, and I won't allow you to have praised her for nothing who is so pleasing to me.
PHILE. I don't want you to flatter me.
SCA. Really you are a very simple woman. Come now, would you rather be censured undeservedly, than be praised with truth? Upon thy faith, for my own part, even though undeservedly, I'd much rather be praised than be found fault with with reason, or that other people should laugh at my appearance.
PHILE. I love the truth; I wish the truth to be told me; I detest a liar.
SCA. So may you love me, and so may your Philolaches love you, how charming you are.
PHILO. (apart). How say you, you hussy? In what words did you adjure? "So may I love her?" Why wasn't "So may she love me" added as well? I revoke the present. What I just now promised you is done for; you have lost the present.
SCA. Troth, for my part I am surprised that you, a person so knowing, so clever, and so well educated, are not aware that you are acting foolishly.
PHILE. Then give me your advice, I beg, if I have done wrong in anything.
SCA. I' faith, you certainly do wrong, in setting your mind upon him alone, in fact, and humouring him in particular in this way and slighting other men. It's the part of a married woman, and not of courtesans, to be devoted to a single lover.
PHILO. (apart). O Jupiter! Why, what pest is this that has befallen my house? May all the Gods and Goddesses destroy me in the worst of fashions, if I don't kill this old hag with thirst, and hunger, and cold.
PHILE. I don't want you, Scapha, to be giving me bad advice.
SCA. You are clearly a simpleton, in thinking that he'll for everlasting be your friend and well-wisher. I warn you of that; he'll forsake you by reason of age and satiety.
PHILE. I hope not.
SCA. Things which you don't hope happen more frequently than things which you do hope. In fine, if you cannot be persuaded by words to believe this to be the truth, judge of my words from facts; consider this instance, who I now am, and who I once was. No less than you are now, was I once beloved, and I devoted myself to one, who, faith, when with age this head changed its hue, forsook and deserted me. Depend on it, the same will happen to yourself.
PHILO. (apart). I can scarcely withhold myself from flying at the eyes of this mischief-maker.
PHILE. I am of opinion that I ought to keep myself alone devoted to him, since to myself alone has he given freedom for himself alone.
PHILO. (apart). O ye immortal Gods! what a charming woman, and of a disposition how chaste! By heaven, 'tis excellently done, and I'm rejoiced at it, that it is for her sake I've got nothing left.
SCA. On my word you really are silly.
PHILE. For what reason?
SCA. Because you care for this, whether he loves you.
PHILE. Prithee, why should I not care for it?
SCA. You now are free. You've now got what you wanted;
if he didn't still love you, as much money as he gave for your liberty, he'd lose.
PHILO. (apart). Heavens, I'm a dead man if I don't torture her to death after the most shocking fashion. That evil-persuading enticer to vice is corrupting this damsel.
PHILE. Scapha, I can never return him sufficient thanks for what he deserves of me; don't you be persuading me to esteem him less.
SCA. But take care and reflect upon this one thing, if you devote yourself to him alone, while now you are at this youthful age, you'll be complaining to no purpose in your aged years.
PHILO. (apart). I could wish myself this instant changed into a quinsy, that I might seize the throat of that old witch, and put an end to the wicked mischief-maker.
PHILE. It befits me now to have the same grateful feelings since I obtained it, as formerly before I acquired it, when I used to lavish caresses upon him.
PHILO. (apart). May the Gods do towards me what they please, if for that speech I don't make you free over again, and if I don't torture Scapha to death.
SCA. If you are quite assured that you will have a provision to the end, and that this lover will be your own for life, I think that you ought to devote yourself to him alone, and assume the character of a wife [2].
PHILE. Just as a person's character is, he's in the habit of finding means accordingly; if I keep a good character for myself I shall be rich enough.
PHILO. (apart). By my troth, since selling there must be, my father shall be sold much sooner than, while I'm alive, I'll ever permit you to be in want or go a-begging.
SCA. What's to become of the rest of those who are in love with you?
PHILE. They'll love me the more when they see me displaying gratitude to one who has done me services.
PHILO. (apart). I do wish that news were brought me now that my father's dead, that I might disinherit myself of my property, and that she might be my heir.
SCA. This property of his will certainly soon be at an end; day and night there's eating and drinking, and no one displays thriftiness; 'tis downright cramming [3].
PHILO. (apart). I' faith, I'm determined to make trial on yourself for the first to be thrifty; for you shall neither eat nor drink anything at my house for the next ten days.
PHILE. If you choose to say anything good about him, you shall be at liberty to say it; if you speak otherwise than well, on my word you shall have a beating instantly.
PHILO. (apart). Upon my faith, if I had paid sacrifice to supreme Jove with that money which I gave for her liberty, never could I have so well employed it. Do see, how, from her very heart's core, she loves me! Oh, I'm a fortunate man; I've liberated in her a patron to plead my cause for me.
SCA. I see that, compared with Philolaches, you disregard all other men; now, that on his account I mayn't get a beating, I'll agree with you in preference, if you are quite satisfied that he will always prove a friend to you.
PHILE. Give me the mirror [4], and the casket with my trinkets, directly, Scapha, that I may be quite dressed when Philolaches, my delight, comes here.
SCA. A woman who neglects herself and her youthful age has occasion for a mirror; what need of a mirror have you, who yourself are in especial a mirror for a mirror.
PHILO. (apart). For that expression, Scapha, that you mayn't have said anything so pretty in vain, I'll to-day give something for your savings—to you, my Philematium.
PHILE. (while SCAPHA is dressing her hair). Will you see that each hair is nicely arranged in its own place?
SCA. When you yourself are so nice, do believe that your hair must be nice.
PHILO. (apart). Out upon it! what worse thing can possibly be spoken of than this woman? Now the jade's a flatterer, just now she was all contradictory.
PHILE. Hand me the ceruse [5].
SCA. Why, what need of ceruse have you?
PHILE. To paint my cheeks with it.
SCA. On the same principle, you would want to be making ivory white with ink.
PHILO. (apart). Cleverly said that, about the ink and the ivory!
Bravo! I applaud you, Scapha.
PHILE. Well then, do you give me the rouge.
SCA. I shan't give it. You really are a clever one. Do you wish to patch up a most clever piece with new daubing? It's not right that any paint should touch that person, neither ceruse, nor quince-ointment, nor any other wash. Take the mirror, then. (Hands her the glass.)
PHILO. (apart.) Ah wretched me!—she gave the glass a kiss. I could much wish for a stone, with which to break the head of that glass.
SCA. Take the towel and wipe your hands.
PHILE. Why so, prithee?
SCA. As you've been holding the mirror, I'm afraid that your hands may smell of silver; lest Philolaches should suspect you've been receiving silver somewhere.
PHILO. (apart). I don't think that I ever did see anyone procuress more cunning. How cleverly and artfully did it occur to the jade's imagination about the mirror!
PHILE. Do you think I ought to be perfumed with unguents as well?
SCA. By no means do so. PHILE. For what reason?
SCA. Because, i' faith, a woman smells best [6] when she smells of nothing at all. For those old women who are in the habit of anointing themselves with unguents, vampt up creatures, old hags, and toothless, who hide the blemishes of the person with paint, when the sweat has blended itself with the unguents, forthwith they stink just like when a cook has poured together a variety of broths; what they smell of, you don't know, except this only, that you understand that badly they do smell.
PHILO. (apart). How very cleverly she does understand everything! There's nothing more knowing than this knowing woman! (To the AUDIENCE.) This is the truth, and a very great portion, in fact, of you know it, who have old women for wives at home who purchased you with their portions.
PHILE. Come now; examine my golden trinkets and my mantle; does this quite become me, Scapha?
SCA. It befits not me to concern myself about that.
PHILE. Whom then, prithee?
SCA. I'll tell you; Philolaches; so that he may not buy anything except that which he fancies will please you. For a lover buys the favours of a mistress for himself with gold and purple garments. What need is there for that which he doesn't want as his own, to be shown him still? Age is to be enveloped in purple; gold ornaments are unsuitable for a woman. A beautiful woman will be more beautiful naked than drest in purple. Besides, it's in vain she's well-drest if she's ill-conducted; ill- conduct soils fine ornaments worse than dirt. But if she's beauteous, she's sufficiently adorned.
PHILO. (apart). Too long have I withheld my hand. (Coming forward.) What are you about here?
PHILE. I'm decking myself out to please you.
PHILO. You are dressed enough. (To SCAPHA.) Go you hence indoors, and take away this finery. (SCAPHA goes into the house.) But, my delight, my Philematium, I have a mind to regale together with you.
PHILE. And, i' faith, so I have with you; for what you have a mind to, the same have I a mind to, my delight.
PHILO. Ha! at twenty minae that expression were cheap.
PHILE. Give me ten, there's a dear; I wish to let you have that expression bought a bargain.
PHILO. You've already got ten minae with you; or reckon up the account: thirty minae I gave for your freedom—
PHILE. Why reproach me with that?
PHILO. What, I reproach you with it? Why, I had rather that I myself were reproached with it; no money whatever for this long time have I ever laid out equally well.
PHILE. Surely, in loving you, I never could have better employed my pains.
PHILO. The account, then, of receipts and expenditure fully tallies between ourselves; you love me, I love you. Each thinks that it is so deservedly. Those who rejoice at this, may they ever rejoice at the continuance of their own happiness. Those who envy, let not any one henceforth be ever envious of their blessings.
PHILE. (pointing to a couch on the stage). Come, take your place, then. (At the door, to a SERVANT, who obeys.) Boy, bring some water for the hands; put a little table here. See where are the dice. Would you like some perfumes? (They recline on the couch.)
PHILO. What need is there? Along with myrrh I am reclining. But isn't this my friend who's coming hither with his mistress? 'Tis he; it's Callidamates; look, he's coming. Capital! my sweet one, see, our comrades are approaching; they're coming to share the spoil.
[Footnote 1: That which stuffs out)—Ver. 164. That is, the body.]
[Footnote 2: Assume the character of a wife)—Ver. 220. "Capiundos crines." Literally, "the hair mast be assumed." Festus says that it was usual on the occasion of the marriage ceremony, to add six rows of curls to the hair of the bride, in imitation of the Vestal virgins, who were patterns of purity, and were dressed in that manner. Hence the term "capere crines" came to signify "to become a wife."]
[Footnote 3: 'Tis downright cramming)—Ver. 230. "Sagina plane est." "Sagina" was the term applied to the fattening or cramming of animals for the purpose of killing. The use of the term implies Scapha'a notion of the bestial kind of life that Philolaches was leading.]
[Footnote 4: Give me the mirror)—Ver. 242. Probably a mirror with a handle, such as the servants usually held for their mistresses. There is something comical in the notion of a female coming out into the street to make her toilet.]
[Footnote 5: Hand me the ceruse)—Ver. 252. White lead, or "cerussa," was used by the Roman women for the purpose of whitening the complexion. Ovid mentions it in his Treatise on the Care of the Complexion, L 73.]
[Footnote 6: A woman smells best)—Ver. 267. Cicero and Martial have a similar sentiment; their opinion has been followed by many modern writers, and other persons as well.]
CALL. (to his SERVANT). I want you to come for me [1] in good time to the house of Philolaches; listen you; well then! those are your orders. (Exit SERVANT.) For from the place where I was, thence did I betake myself off; so confoundedly tired was I there with the entertainment and the discourse. Now I'll go to Philolaches to have a bout; there he'll receive us with jovial feelings and handsomely. Do I seem to you to be fairly drenched, my bubsy?
DEL. You ought always to live pursuing this course of life.
CALL. Should you like, then, for me to hug you, and you me? DEL.
If you've a mind to do so, of course.
CALL. You are a charming one. (He stumbles.) Do hold me up, there's a dear.
DEL. (holding him by the arm). Take care you don't fall. Stand up.
CALL. O! you are the apple of my eye. I'm your fosterling, my honey. (He stumbles.)
DEL. (still holding him up). Only do take care that you don't recline in the street, before we get to a place where a couch is ready laid.
CALL. Do let me fall.
DEL. Well, I'll let you. (Lets go.)
CALL. (dragging her as he falls). But that as well which I've got hold of in my hand.
DEL. If you fall, you shan't fall without me falling with you. Then some one shall pick us both up as we lie. (Aside.) The man's quite drenched.
CALL. (overhearing). Do you say that I am drenched, my bubsy?
DEL. Give me your hand; I really do not want you hurt.
CALL. (giving his hand). There now, take it.
DEL. Come, move on with me.
CALL. Where am I going, do you know?
DEL. I know.
CALL. It has just come into my head: why, of course I'm going home for a booze.
DEL. Why yes, really now I do remember that.
PHILO. Won't you let me go to find them, my life? Of all persons I wish well to him especially. I'll return just now. (Goes forward towards the door.)
PHILE. That "just now" is a long time to me.
CALL. (going to the door and knocking). Is there any person here?
PHILO. 'Tis he.
CALL. (turning round). Bravo! Philolaches, good day to you, most friendly to me of all men.
PHILO. May the Gods bless you. (Pointing to a couch.) Take your place, Callidamates. (He takes his place.) Whence are you betaking yourself?
CALL. Whence a drunken man does.
PHILO. Well said. But, my Delphium, do take your place, there's a dear. (She takes her place on a couch.)
CALL. Give her something to drink. I shall go to sleep directly. (Nods and goes to sleep.)
PHILO. He doesn't do anything wonderful or strange. What shall I do with him then, my dear?
DEL. Let him alone just as he is.
PHILO. Come, you boy. Meanwhile, speedily pass the goblet round, beginning with Delphium.
[Footnote 1: You to come for me)—Ver. 306. Though none of the Editions say so, it is not improbable that this is said to Phaniscus, who, in the sequel, comes to fetch Callidamates home. The duties of the "adversitor" have been alluded to in a previous Note.]
TRA. (to himself). Supreme Jove, with all his might and resources, is seeking for me and Philolaches, my master's son, to be undone. Our hopes are destroyed; nowhere is there any hold for courage; not even Salvation [1] now could save us if she wished. Such an immense mountain of woe have I just now seen at the harbour: my master has arrived from abroad; Tranio is undone! (To the AUDIENCE.) Is there any person who'd like to make gain of a little money, who could this day endure to take my place in being tortured? Where are those fellows hardened to a flogging, the wearers-out of iron chains, or those, who, for the consideration of three didrachms, would get beneath besieging towers [2], where some are in the way of having their bodies pierced with fifteen spears? I'll give a talent to that man who shall be the first to run to the cross for me; but on condition that twice his feet, twice his arms [3] are fastened there. When that shall have been done, then ask the money down of me. But am I not a wretched fellow, not at full speed to be running home?
PHILO. Here come the provisions; see, here's Tranio; he's come back from the harbour.
TRA. (running). Philolaches!
PHILO. What's the matter? TRA. Both I and you—
PHILO. What about "Both I and you?"
TRA. Are undone!
PHILO. Why so? TRA. Your father's here.
PHILO. What is it I hear of you?
TRA. We are finished up. Your father's come, I say.
PHILO. (starting up.) Where is he, I do entreat you?
TRA. He's coming.
PHILO. Coming? Who says so? Who has seen him?
TRA. I saw him myself, I tell you.
PHILO. Woe unto me! what am I about?
TRA. Why the plague now do you ask me, what you are about? Taking your place at table, of course.
PHILO. Did you see him? TRA. I my own self, I tell you.
PHILO. For certain? TRA. For certain, I tell you.
PHILO. I'm undone, if you are telling the truth.
TRA. What good could it be to me if I told a lie?
PHILO. What shall I do now?
TRA. (pointing to the table and couches). Order all these things to be removed from here. (Pointing.) Who's that asleep there?
PHILO. Callidamates. TRA. Arouse him, Delphium.
DEL. (bawling out in his ear). Callidamates! Callidamates! awake! CALL. (raising himself a little). I am awake; give me something to drink.
DEL. Awake; the father of Philolaches has arrived from abroad. CALL. I hope his father's well.
PHILO. He is well indeed; but I am utterly undone.
CALL. You, utterly undone? How can that be?
PHILO. By heavens! do get up, I beg of you; my father has arrived.
CALL. Your father has come? Bid him go back again. What business had he to come back here so soon?
PHILO. What am I to do? My father will, just now, be coming and unfortunately finding me amid drunken carousals, and the house full of revellers and women. It's a shocking bad job, to be digging a well at the last moment, just when thirst has gained possession of your throat; just as I, on the arrival of my father, wretch that I am, am now enquiring what I am to do.
TRA. (pointing at CALLIDAMATES). Why look, he has laid down his head and gone to sleep. Do arouse him.
PHILO. (shaking him). Will you awake now? My father, I tell you, will be here this instant.
CALL. How say you? Your father? Give me my shoes, that I may take up arms. On my word, I'll kill your father this instant.
PHILO. (seizing hold of him). You're spoiling the whole business; do hold your tongue. (To DELPHIUM.) Prithee, do carry him off in your arms into the house.
CALL. (To DELPHIUM, who is lifting him up). Upon my faith, I'll be making an utensil of you just now, if you don't find me one. (He is led off into the house.)
PHILO. I'm undone!
TRA. Be of good courage; I'll cleverly find a remedy for this alarm.
PHILO. I'm utterly ruined!
TRA. Do hold your tongue; I'll think of something by means of which to alleviate this for you. Are you satisfied, if on his arrival I shall so manage your father, not only that he shall not enter, but even that he shall run away to a distance from the house? Do you only be off from here in-doors, and remove these things from here with all haste.
PHILO. Where am I to be? TRA. Where you especially desire: with her (pointing to PHILEMATIUM); with this girl, too, you'll be. (Pointing to DELPHIUM.)
DEL. How then? Are we to go away from here?
TRA. Not far from here, Delphium. For carouse away in the house not a bit the less on account of this.
PHILO. Ah me! I'm in a sweat with fear as to how these fine words are to end! TRA. Can you not be tranquil in your mind, and do as I bid you?
PHILO. I can be. TRA. In the first place of all, Philematium, do you go in-doors; and you, Delphium.
DEL. We'll both be obedient to you. (They go into the house.)
TRA. May Jupiter grant it so! Now then, do you give attention as to what I'd have attended to. In the first place, then, before anything, cause the house to be shut up at once. Take care and don't let any one whisper a word in-doors.
PHILO. Care shall be taken. TRA. Just as though no living being were dwelling within the house.
PHILO. Very well. TRA. And let no one answer, when the old gentleman knocks at the door.
PHILO. Anything else?
TRA. Order the master-key [4] of the house to be brought me at once from within; this house I'll lock here on the outside.
PHILO. To your charge I commit myself, Tranio, and my hopes. (He goes into the house, and the things are removed from the stage.)
TRA. (to himself). It matters not a feather whether a patron or a dependant is the nearest at hand for that man who has got no courage in his breast. For to every man, whether very good or very bad, even at a moment's notice, it is easy to act with craft; but this must be looked to, this is the duty of a prudent man, that what has been planned and done in craftiness, may all come about smoothly and without mishap; so that he may not have to put up with anything by reason of which he might be loth to live; just as I shall manage, that, from the confusion which we shall here create, all shall really go on smoothly and tranquilly, and not produce us any inconvenience in the results. (Enter a BOY, from the house.) But, why have you come out? I'm undone! (The BOY shows him the key.) O very well, you've obeyed my orders most opportunely.
BOY. He bade me most earnestly to entreat you some way or other to scare away his father, that he may not enter the house.
TRA. Even more, tell him this, that I'll cause that he shan't venture even to look at the house, and to take to flight, covering up his head [5] with the greatest alarm. Give me the key (taking it), and be off in-doors, and shut to the door, and I'll lock it on this side. (The BOY goes into the house, and TRANIO locks the door.) Bid him now come forthwith. For the old gentleman here while still alive this day will I institute games [6] in his presence, such as I fancy there will never be for him when he's dead. (Moving away.) I'll go away from the door to this spot; hence, I'll look out afar in which direction to lay the burden on the old fellow on his arrival. (Exit to a little distance.)
[Footnote 1: Not even Salvation)—Ver. 342. See the Captivi, 1. 535, and the Note to the passage.]
[Footnote 2: Beneath besieging towers)—Ver 348. "Falae" were wooden towers, placed on the top of walls or fortified places; of course the attack of these would imply extreme danger to those who attempted it.]
[Footnote 3: Twice his feet, twice his arms)—Ver. 351. Some suppose that by "bis pedes, bis brachia," he means that two nails were to be driven into each leg and foot. It seems more probable that be means two for the feet and two for the hands.]
[Footnote 4: Order the master-key)—Ver. 395. "Clavem— Laconicam;" literally, "the Laconian key." This was a kind of key originally invented by the Spartans, by means of which a door could be locked from the outside, but not from within. According to some, this key was called "Laconica," from its rough appearance, in allusion to the inelegant exterior of the Spartans. In his Thesmophoriazusae, Aristophanes informs us that these keys had three wards.]
[Footnote 5: Covering up his head)—Ver. 414. With the ancients, when either ashamed or alarmed at anything, it was the custom to throw a part of the dress over the head, as a hood.]
[Footnote 6: Will I institute games)—Ver. 417. He plays on the double meaning of "ludes," which means either "tricks," or "funeral games" in honor of the dead, according to the context.]
Enter THEUROPIDES, followed by ATTENDANTS.
THEU. (to himself). Neptune, I do return extreme thanks to thee that thou hast just dismissed me from thee, though scarce alive. But if, from this time forward, thou shalt only know that I have stirred a foot upon the main, there is no reason why, that instant, thou shouldst not do with me that which thou hast now wished to do. Away with you, away with you from me henceforth for ever after to-day; what I was to entrust to thee, all of it have I now entrusted.
Enter TRANIO, overhearing him.
TRA. (apart). By my troth, Neptune, you've been much to blame, to have lost this opportunity so fair.
THEU. After three years, I've arrived home from Aegypt. I shall come a welcome guest to my household, I suppose.
TRA. (apart). Upon my faith, he might have come a much more welcome one, who had brought the tidings you were dead.
THEU. (looking at the door). But what means this? Is the door shut in the daytime? I'll knock. (Knocks at the door.) Hallo, there! is any one going to open this door for me?
TRA. (coming forward, and speaking aloud). What person is it that has come so near to our house?
THEU. Surely this is my servant Tranio.
TRA. O Theuropides, my master, welcome; I'm glad that you've arrived in safety. Have you been well all along?
THEU. All along, as you see.
TRA. That's very good.
THEU. What about yourselves? Are you all mad?
TRA. Why so?
THEU. For this reason; because you are walking about outside; not a born person is keeping watch in the house, either to open or to give an answer. With kicking with my feet I've almost broken in the pannels?
TRA. How now? Have you been touching this house?
THEU. Why shouldn't I touch it? Why, with kicking it, I tell you, I've almost broken down the door.
TRA. What, you touched it?
THEU. I touched it, I tell you, and knocked at it.
TRA. Out upon you! THEU. Why so?
TRA. By heavens! 'twas ill done.
THEU. What is the matter? TRA. It cannot be expressed, how shocking and dreadful a mischief you've been guilty of.
THEU. How so?
TRA. Take to flight, I beseech you, and get away from the house. Fly in this direction, fly closer to me. (He runs towards TRANIO.) What, did you touch the door?
THEU. How could I knock, if I didn't touch it?
TRA. By all that's holy, you've been the death—
THEU. Of what person? TRA. Of all your family.
THEU. May the Gods and Goddesses confound you with that omen.
TRA. I'm afraid that you can't make satisfaction for yourself and them.
THEU. For what reason, or what new affair is this that you thus suddenly bring me news of?
TRA. And (whispering) hark you, prithee, do bid those people to move away from here. (Pointing to the ATTENDANTS of THEUROPIDES.)
THEU. (to the ATTENDANTS). More away from here.
TRA. Don't you touch the house. Touch you the ground [1]
as well. (Exeunt the ATTENDANTS.
THEU. I' faith, prithee, do speak out now.
TRA. Because it is now seven months that not a person has set foot within this house, and since we once for all left it.
THEU. Tell me, why so?
TRA. Just look around, whether there's any person to overhear our discourse.
THEU. (looking around). All's quite safe.
TRA. Look around once more.
THEU. (looking around). There's nobody; now then, speak out. TRA. (in a loud whisper). The house has been guilty of a capital offence [2].
THEU. I don't understand you. TRA. A crime, tell you, has
been committed there, a long while ago, one of olden time and ancient date.
THEU. Of ancient date?
TRA. 'Tis but recently, in fact, that we've discovered this deed.
THEU. What is this crime, or who committed it? Tell me.
TRA. A host slew his guest, seized with his hand: he, I fancy, who sold you the house.
THEU. Slew him?
TRA. And robbed this guest of his gold, and buried this guest there in the house, on the spot.
THEU. For what reason do you suspect that this took place?
TRA. I'll tell you; listen. One day, when your son had dined away from home, after he returned home from dining; we all went to bed, and fell asleep. By accident, I had forgotten to put out my lamp; and he, all of a sudden, called out aloud—
THEU. What person? My son?
TRA. Hist! hold your peace: just listen. He said that a dead man came to him in his sleep—
THEU. In his dreams, then, you mean?
TRA. Just so. But only listen. He said that he had met with his death by these means—
THEU. What, in his sleep?
TRA. It would have been surprising if he had told him awake, who had been murdered sixty years ago. On some occasions you are absurdly simple. But look what he said: "I am the guest of Diapontius, from beyond the seas; here do I dwell; this has been assigned me as my abode; for Oreus would not receive me in Acheron, because prematurely I lost my life. Through confiding was I deceived: my entertainer slew me here, and that villain secretly laid me in the ground without funereal rites, in this house, on the spot, for the sake of gold. Now do you depart from here; this house is accursed, this dwelling is defiled." The wonders that here take place, hardly in a year could I recount them. Hush, hush! (He starts.)
THEU. Troth now, what has happened, prithee?
TRA. The door made a noise. Was it he that was knocking?
THEU. (turning pale). I have not one drop of blood! Dead men are come to fetch me to Acheron, while alive!
TRA. (aside). I'm undone! those people there will mar my plot. (A noise is heard from within.) How much I dread, lest be should catch me in the fact.
THEU. What are you talking about to yourself? (Goes near the door.)
TRA. Do get away from the door. By heavens, fly, I do beseech you.
THEU. Fly where? Fly yourself, as well.
TRA. I am not afraid: I am at peace with the dead.
A VOICE (from within). Hallo! Tranio [3].
TRA. (in a low voice, near the door). You won't be calling me, if you are wise. (Aloud, as if speaking to the APPARITION.) 'Tis not I that's guilty; I did not knock at the door.
THEU. Pray, what is it that's wrong? What matter is agitating you,
Tranio? To whom are you saying these things?
TRA. Prithee, was it you that called me? So may the Gods bless me, I fancied it was this dead man expostulating because you had knocked at the door. But are you still standing there, and not doing what I advise you?
THEU. What am I to do? TRA. Take care not to look back. Fly; cover up your head!
THEU. Why don't you fly?
TRA. I am at peace with the dead.
THEU. I recollect. Why then were you so dreadfully alarmed just now?
TREA. Have no care for me, I tell you; I'll see to myself. You, as you have begun to do, fly as quick as ever you can; Hercules, too [4], you will invoke.
THEU. Hercules, I do invoke thee! (Runs off.)
TRA. (to himself.) And I, as well, old fellow, that this day he'll send some heavy mishap upon you. O ye immortal Gods, I do implore your aid. Plague on it! what a mess I have got into to-day. (Exit.
[Footnote 1: Touch you the ground)—Ver. 457. The ancients were in the habit of reverentially touching the earth, when engaged in any affairs that related to the dead or the infernal Deities.]
[Footnote 2: Guilty of a capital offence)—Ver. 464. "Capitalis aedes facta est;" meaning that a murder had been committed in it.]
[Footnote 3: Hallo! Tranio)—Ver. 502. Weise's Edition gives these words to Theuropides. Rost, no doubt rightly, suggests that these words are spoken by Philolaches from inside (perhaps in a low voice, to ask Tranio how matters are going on). On this, Tranio turns it to good account, by pretending that the Ghost is calling out to him for his supposed impiety in daring to knock at the door.]
[Footnote 4: Hercules, too)—Ver. 514. Hercules having slain so many monsters, was naturally regarded as a Deity likely to give aid in extreme danger.]
Enter a BANKER, at the end of the stage.
BAN. (to himself). I never knew any year worse for money upon interest, than this year has turned out to me. From morning even until night, I spend my time in the Forum; I cannot lend out a coin of silver to any one.
Enter TRANIO.
TRA. (apart). Now, faith, I am clearly undone in an everlasting way! The Banker's here who found the money with which his mistress was bought. The matter's all out, unless I meet him a bit beforehand, so that the old man may not at present come to know of this. I'll go meet him. But (seeing THEUROPIDES) I wonder why he has so soon betaken himself homeward again. I'm afraid that he has heard something about this affair. I'll meet him, and accost him. But how dreadfully frightened I am! Nothing is more wretched than the mind of a man with a guilty conscience, such as possesses myself. But however this matter turns out, I'll proceed to perplex it still further: so does this affair require.
Enter THEUROPIDES.
TRA. (accosting him). Whence come you?
THEU. I met that person from whom I bought this house.
TRA. Did you tell him anything about that which I was telling you?
THEU. I' faith, I certainly told him everything.
TRA. (aside). Woe to unfortunate me! I'm afraid that my schemes are everlastingly undone!
THEU. What is it you are saying to yourself?
TRA. Why nothing. But tell me, prithee, did you really tell him?
THEU. I told him everything in its order, I tell you.
TRA. Does he, then, confess about the guest?
THEU. Why no; he utterly denies it.
TRA. Does he deny it?
THEU. Do you ask me again? I should tell you if he had confessed it.
What now are you of opinion ought to be done?
TRA. What is my opinion? By my troth, I beg of you, appoint an arbitrator together with him; but take you care that you appoint one who will believe me; you'll overcome him as easily as a fox eats a pear [1]
BAN. (to himself). But see, here's Tranio, the servant of Philolaches, people who pay me neither interest nor principal on my money. (Goes towards TRANIO, who steps forward to meet him.)
THEU. (to TRANIO). Whither are you betaking yourself?
TRA. I'm going no whither. (Aside.) For sure, I am a wretch, a rascal, one born with all the Gods my foes! He'll now be accosting me in the old man's presence. Assuredly, I am a wretched man; in such a fashion both this way and that do they find business for me. But I'll make haste and accost him. (Moves towards the BANKER.)
BAN. (apart). He's coming towards me. I'm all right; I've some hopes of my money; he's smiling.
TRA. (to himself). The fellow's deceived. (To the BANKER.)
I heartily bid you hail, my friend Saturides [2].
BAN. And hail to you. What about the money?
TRA. Be off with you, will you, you brute. Directly you come, you commence the attack [3] against me.
BAN. (apart). This fellow's empty-handed.
TRA. (overhearing him). This fellow's surely a conjurer.
BAN. But why don't you put an end to this trifling?
TRA. Tell me, then, what it is you want.
BAN. Where is Philolaches?
TRA. You never could have met me more opportunely than you have met me.
BAN. How's that?
TRA. (taking him aside). Step this way.
BAN. (aloud). Why isn't the money repaid me?
TRA. I know that you have a good voice; don't bawl out so loud. BAN. (aloud). I' faith, I certainly shall bawl out.
TRA. O, do humour me now.
BAN. What do you want me to humour you in?
TRA. Prithee, be off hence home.
BAN. Be off? TRA. Return here about mid-day.
BAN. Will the interest be paid then?
TRA. It will be paid. Be off.
BAN. Why should I run to and fro here, or use or waste my pains? What if
I remain here until mid-day in preference?
TRA. Why no; be off home. On my word, I'm telling the truth. Only do be off.
BAN. (aloud). Then do you pay me my interest. Why do you trifle with me this way?
TRA. Bravo! faith. Really now, do be off; do attend to me.
BAN. (aloud). I' faith, I'll call him now by name.
TRA. Bravo! stoutly done! Really you are quite rich now when you bawl out.
BAN. (aloud). I'm asking for my own. In this way you've been disappointing me for these many days past. If I'm troublesome, give me back the money; I'll go away then: That expression [4] puts an end to all replies.
TRA. (pretending to offer it him). Then, take the principal [5].
BAN. (aloud). Why no, the interest; I want that first.
TRA. What? Have you, you fellow most foul of all fellows, come here to burst yourself? Do what lies in your power. He's not going to pay you; he doesn't owe it.
BAN. Not owe it?
TRA. Not a tittle, indeed, can you get from here. Would you prefer for him to go abroad, and leave the city in exile, driven hence for your sake? Why then, in preference let him pay the [6] principal.
BAN. But I don't ask for it.
THEU. (calling out to TRANIO,from a distance). Hark you! you whip-knave, come back to me.
TRA. (to THEUROPIDES). I'll be there just now. (To the BANKER.) Don't you be troublesome: no one's going to pay you; do what you please. You are the only person, I suppose, that lends money upon interest. (Moves towards THEUROPIDES.)
BAN. (bawling aloud). Give me my interest! pay me my interest! you pay my interest! Are you going to give me my interest this instant? Give me my interest!
TRA. Interest here, interest there! The old rogue knows how to talk about nothing but interest. I do not think that ever I saw any beast more vile than you.
BAN. Upon my faith, you don't alarm me now with those expressions. This is of a hot nature; although it is at a distance off, it scorches badly [7].
TRA. Don't you be troublesome; no one's going to pay you; do what you please. You are the only person, I suppose, that lends money upon interest.
THEU. (to TRANIO). Pray, what interest is this that he is asking for?
TRA. (in a low voice, to the BANKER). Look now; his father has arrived from abroad, not long since; he'll pay you both, interest and principal; don't you then attempt any further to make us your enemies. See whether he puts you off.
BAN. Nay but, I'll take it, if anything's offered.
THEU. (to TRANIO, coming towards him). What do you say, then—? TRA. What is it you mean?
THEU. Who is this? What is he asking for? Why is he thus rudely speaking of my son Philolaches in this way, and giving you abuse to your face? What's owing him?
TRA. (to THEUROPIDES). I beg of you, do order the money to be thrown in the face of this dirty brute.
THEU. I, order it?
TRA. Order the fellow's face to be pelted with money.
BAN. (coming nearer). I could very well put up with a pelting with money.
THEU. (to TRANIO). What money's this?
TRA. Philolaches owes this person a little.
THEU. How much?
TRA. About forty minae.
BAN. (to THEUROPIDES). Really, don't think much of that; it's a trifle, in fact.
TRA. Don't you hear him? Troth now, prithee, doesn't he seem just suited to be a Banker—a generation that's most roguish?
THEU. I don't care, just now, for that, who he is or whence he is; this I want to be told me, this I very much wish to know—I heard from him that there was interest owing on the money as well.
TRA. Forty-four minae are due to him. Say that you'll pay it, that he may be off.
THEU. I, say that I'll pay it?
TRA. Do say so.
THEU. What, I?
TRA. You yourself. Do only say so. Do be guided by me. Do promise. Come now, I say; I beg of you.
THEU. Answer me; what has been done with this money?
TRA. It's safe.
THEU. Pay it yourselves then, if it's safe.
TRA. Your son has bought a house.
THEU. A house?
TRA. A house.
THEU. Bravo! Philolaches is taking after his father! The fellow now turns to merchandize. A house, say you?
TRA. A house, I tell you. But do you know of what sort?
THEU. How can I know?
TRA. Out with you!
THEU. What's the matter?
TRA. Don't ask me that.
THEU. But why so?
TRA. Bright as a mirror, pure brilliancy itself.
THEU. Excellently done, upon my faith! Well, how much did he agree to give for it?
TRA. As many great talents as you and I put together make; but these forty minae he paid by way of earnest. (Pointing to the BANKER.) From him he received what we paid the other man. Do you quite understand? [8] For after this house was in such a state as I mentioned to you, he at once purchased another house for himself.
THEU. Excellently done, upon my faith!
BAN. (touching TRANIO). Hark you. Mid-day is now close at hand.
TRA. Prithee, do dismiss this puking fellow, that he mayn't worry us to death. Forty-four minae are due to him, both principal and interest.
BAN. 'Tis just that much; I ask for nothing more.
TRA. Upon my faith, I really could have wished that you had asked more, if only by a single coin.
THEU. (to the BANKER). Young man, transact the business with me.
BAN. I'm to ask it of you, you mean?
THEU. Come for it to-morrow.
BAN. I'll be off, then; I'm quite satisfied if I get it tomorrow.
(Exit
TRA. (aside). A plague may all the Gods and Goddesses send upon him! so utterly has he disarranged my plans. On my word, no class of men is there more disgusting, or less acquainted with fair dealing than the banking race.
THEU. In what neighbourhood did my son buy this house?
TRA. (aside). Just see that, now! I'm undone!
THEU. Are you going to tell me that which I ask you?
TRA. I'll tell you; but I'm thinking what was the name of the owner. (Pretends to think.)
THEU. Well, call it to mind, then.
TRA. (aside). What am I to do now, except put the lie upon this neighbour of ours next door? I'll say that his son has bought that house. I' faith, I've heard say that a lie piping-hot is the best lie; this is piping-hot; although it is at a distance off, it scorches badly. Whatever the Gods dictate, that am I determined to say.
THEU. Well now? Have you recollected it by this?
TRA. (aside). May the Gods confound that fellow!—no, this other fellow, rather. (To THEUROPIDES.) Your son has bought the house of this next-door neighbour of yours.
THEU. In real truth?
TRA. If, indeed, you are going to pay down the money, then in real truth; if you are not going to pay it, in real truth he has not bought it.
THEU. He hasn't bought it in a very good situation.
TRA. Why yes, in a very good one.
THEU. I' faith, I should like to look over this house; just knock at the door, and call some one to you from within, Tranio.
TRA. (aside). Why just look now, again I don't know what I'm to say. Once more, now, are the surges bearing me upon the self-same rock. What now? I' faith, I can't discover what I am now to do; I'm caught in the fact.
THEU. Just call some one out of doors; ask him to show us round.
TRA. (going to the door of SIMO's house). Hallo there, you! (Turning round.) But there are ladies here; we must first see whether they are willing or unwilling.
THEU. You say what's good and proper; just make enquiry, and ask. I'll wait here outside until you come out.
TRA. (aside). May all the Gods and Goddesses utterly confound you, old gentleman! in such a fashion are you thwarting my artful plans in every way. Bravo! very good! Look, Simo himself, the owner of the house, is coming out of doors. I'll step aside here, until I have convened the senate of council in my mind. Then, when I've discovered what I am to do, I'll join him. (THEUROPIDES and TRANIO stand at a distance from SIMO's house, in opposite directions, THEUROPIDES being out of sight.)
[Footnote 1: As a fox eats a pear)—Ver. 543. This may either mean, very easily indeed, or not at all. It is not clear that a fox will eat a pear; but if does, his teeth will go through it with the greatest ease. Not improbably, Tranio uses the expression for its ambiguity.]
[Footnote 2: Friend Saturides)—Ver. 552. A nickname coined by the author, from "satur," "brimful," of money, probably.]
[Footnote 3: Commence the attack)—Ver. 564. "Pilum injecisti." Literally, "you have thrown the dart." "To throw the dart" was a common expression, signifying to make the first attack;" as the darts were thrown before recourse was had to the sword.]
[Footnote 4: That expression)—Ver. 574. By "hoc verbum" he probably alludes to the expression, "reddite argentum," "down with the money."]
[Footnote 5: Take the principal)—Ver. 575. He finds he must say something, so he says this, although he has no money with him. He knows, however, that the usurer will first insist on the interest being paid, because if he takes the principal, it will be a legal waver of his right to claim the interest.]
[Footnote 6: Let him pay the)—Ver. 581. "Quin sortem potius dare licet?" is the reading here, in Weise's Edition; but the line seems hopelessly incorrect.]
[Footnote 7: It scorches badly)—Ver. 592. This line is given by Gruter to Theuropides, by Acidalius to Tranio, and by Lambinus to the Banker. The latter seems the most appropriate owner of it; and he probably alludes, aside, to the effects of his pressing in a loud voice for the money. Tranio is introduced as using the same expression, in l.650; but there can be no doubt that the line, as there inserted, is spurious.]
[Footnote 8: Do you quite understand)—Ver. 629. Warner suggests, that by using this expression before the Banker, he intends to make a secret of the house being haunted, and that he keeps up the mystery in the succeeding line.]
SIM. (to himself). I've not enjoyed myself better at home this year than I have to-day, nor has at any time any meal pleased me better. My wife provided a very nice breakfast for me; now she bids me go take a nap. By no means! It instantly struck me that it didn't so happen by chance. She provided a better breakfast than is her wont; and then, the old lady wanted to draw me away to my chamber. Sleep is not good [1] after breakfast—out upon it! I secretly stole away from the house, out of doors. My wife, I'm sure, is now quite bursting with rage at home.
TRA. (apart). A sore mischance is provided for this old fellow by the evening; for he must both dine and go to bed in-doors in sorry fashion.
SIM. (continuing). The more I reflect upon it in my mind: if any person has a dowried wife, sleep has no charms for him. I detest going to take a nap. It's a settled matter with me to be off to the Forum from here, rather than nap it at home. And, i' faith (to the AUDIENCE), I don't know how your wives are in their behaviour; this wife of mine, I know right well how badly she treats me, and that she will prove more annoying to me hereafter than she has been.
TRA. (apart). If your escape, old gentleman, turns out amiss, there'll be no reason for you to be accusing any one of the Gods; by very good right, you may justly lay the blame upon yourself. It's time now for me to accost this old fellow. 'Tis down upon him. [2] I've hit upon a plan whereby to cajole the old fellow, by means of which to drive grief [3] away from me. I'll accost him. (Accosting him.) May the Gods, Simo, send on you many blessings! (Takes him by the hand.)
SIM. Save you, Tranio! TRA. How fare you?
SIM. Not amiss. What are you about?
TRA. Holding by the hand a very worthy man.
SIM. You act in a friendly way, in speaking well of me.
TRA. It certainly is your due.
SIM. But, i' faith, in you I don't hold a good servant by the hand.
THEU. (calling from a distance, where he is not perceived by
SIMO). Hark you! you whip-knave, come back to me.
TRA. (turning round). I'll be there just now.
SIM. Well now, how soon—?
TRA. What is it? SIM. The usual goings-on.
TRA. Tell me then, these usual goings-on, what are they?
SIM. The way that you yourselves proceed. But, Tranio, to say the truth, according as men are, it so befits you to humour them; reflecting, at the same time, how short life is.
TRA. What of all this? Dear me, at last, after some difficulty,
I perceive that you are talking about these goings-on of ours.
SIM. I' faith, you people are living a merry life, just as befits you: on wine, good cheer, nice dainty fish, you enjoy life.
TRA. Why yes, so it was in time past, indeed; but now these things have come to an end all at once. SIM. How so?
TRA. So utterly, Simo, are we all undone!
SIM. Won't you hold your tongue? Everything has gone on prosperously with you hitherto.
TEA. I don't deny that it has been as you say; undoubtedly, we have lived heartily, just as we pleased; but, Simo, in such a way has the breeze now forsaken our ship—
SIM. What's the matter? In what way?
TRA. In a most shocking way.
SIM. What, wasn't it hauled ashore [4] in safety?
TRA. Ah me! SIM. What's the matter?
TRA. Ah wretched me! I'm utterly undone!
SIM. How so? TRA. Because a ship has come, to smash the hull of our ship.
SIM. I would wish as you would wish, Tranio, for your own sake.
But what is the matter? Do inform me.
TRA. I will inform you. My master has arrived from abroad.
SIM. In that case, the cord will be stretched for you; thence to the place where iron fetters clink; after that, straight to the cross.
TRA. Now, by your knees, I do implore you, don't give information to my master.
SIM. Don't you fear; he shall know nothing from me.
TRA. Blessings on you, my patron.
SIM. I don't care for clients of this description for myself.
TRA. Now as to this about which our old gentleman has sent me.
SIM. First answer me this that I ask you. As yet, has your old gentleman discovered anything of these matters?
TRA. Nothing whatever.
SIM. Has he censured his son at all?
TRA. He is as calm as the calm weather is wont to be. Now he has requested me most earnestly to beg this of you, that leave may be given him to see over this house of yours.
SIM. It's not for sale. TRA. I know that indeed; but the old gentleman wishes to build a woman's apartment [5] here in his own house, baths, too, and a piazza, and a porch.
SIM. What has he been dreaming of?
TRA. I'll tell you. He wishes to give his son a wife as soon as he can; for that purpose he wants a new apartment for the women. But he says that some builder, I don't know who, has been praising up to him this house of yours, as being remarkably well built; now he's desirous to take a model from it, if you don't make any objection—
SIM. Indeed, he is really choosing a plan for himself from a piece of poor workmanship.
TRA. It was because he heard that here the summer heat was much modified; that this house was wont to be inhabited each day all day long.
SIM. Why really, upon my faith, on the contrary, while there's shade in every direction, in spite of it, the sun is always here from morning till night: he stands, like a dun, continually at the door; and I have no shade anywhere, unless, perhaps, there may be some in the well.
TRA. Well now, have you one from Sarsina, if you have no woman of Umbria [6]?
SIM. Don't be impertinent. It is just as I tell you.
TRA. Still, he wishes to look over it.
SIM. He may look over it, if he likes. If there is anything that takes his fancy, let him build after my plan.
TRA. Am I to go and call this person hither?
SIM. Go and call him.
TRA. (to himself, as he goes to the other side of the stage to call THEUROPIDES). They say that Alexander the Great and Agathocles [7] achieved two very great exploits; what shall be the lot of myself, a third, who, unaided, am achieving deeds imperishable? This old fellow is carrying his pack-saddle, the other one, as well. I've hit upon a novel trade for myself, not a bad one; whereas muleteers have mules to carry pack-saddles; I've got men to carry the pack-saddles. They are able to carry heavy burdens; whatever you put upon them, they carry. Now, I don't know whether I am to address him. I'll accost him, however. (Calling aloud.) Hark you, Theuropides!
THEU. (coming forward). Well; who's calling me?
TRA. A servant most attached to his master. Where you sent me, I got it all agreed to.
THEU. Prithee, why did you stay there so long?
TRA. The old gentleman hadn't leisure; I was waiting until then.
THEU. You keep up that old way of yours, of being tardy.
TRA. Hark you! if you please reflect upon this proverb: to blow and swallow [8] at the same moment isn't easy to be done; I couldn't be here and there at the same time.
THEU. What now?
TRA. Come and look, and inspect it at your own pleasure.
THEU. Very well, you go before me.
TRA. Am I delaying to do so? THEU. I'll follow after you.
TEA. (as they advance). Look, the old gentleman himself is awaiting you before the door, but he is concerned that he has sold this house.
THEU. Why so?
TRA. He begs me to persuade Philolaches to let him off.
THEU. I don't think he will. Each man reaps on his own farm [9].
If it had been bought dear, we shouldn't have had permission to return
it on his hands. Whatever profit there is, it's proper to bring it home.
It don't, now-a-days, befit men to be showing compassion.
TRA. I' faith, you are losing time while you are talking. Follow me.
THEU. Be it so. TRA. (to THEUROPIDES). I'll give you my services. (Pointing.) There's the old gentleman. (To SIMO.) Well now, I've brought you this person.
SIM. I'm glad that you've arrived safely from abroad, Theuropides. THEU.
May the Gods bless you.
SIM. Your servant was telling me that you were desirous to look over this house.
THEU. Unless it's inconvenient to you.
SIM. Oh no; quite convenient. Do step in-doors and look over it.
THEU. (pausing). But yet—the ladies—
SIM. Take you care not to trouble yourself a straw about any lady. Walk in every direction, wherever you like, all over the house, just as though it were your own.
THEU. (apart to TRANIO). "Just as though—?"
TRA. (whispering). Oh, take care that you don't throw it in his teeth now in his concern, that you have bought it. Don't you see him, how sad a countenance the old gentleman has?
THEU. (apart). I see. TRA. (apart). Then don't seem to exult, and to be overmuch delighted; in fact, don't make mention that you've bought it.
THEU. (apart). I understand; and I think you've given good advice, and that it shows a humane disposition. (Turning to SIMO.) What now?
SIM. Won't you go in? Look over it at your leisure, just as you like.
THEU. I consider that you are acting civilly and kindly.
SIM. Troth, I wish to do so. Should you like some one to show you over.
THEU. Away with any one to show [10] me over. I don't want him. SIM.
Why? What's the matter?
THEU. I'll go wrong, rather than any one should show me over.
TRA. (pointing). Don't you see, this vestibule before the house, and the piazza, of what a compass it is?
THEU. Troth, really handsome!
TRA. Well, look now, what pillars there are, with what strength they are built, and of what a thickness.
THEU. I don't think that I ever saw handsomer pillars.
SIM. I' faith, they were some time since bought by me at such a price!
TRA. (aside, whispering). Don't you hear—"They were once"? He seems hardly able to refrain from tears.
THEU. At what price did you purchase them?
SIM. I gave three minae for the two, besides the carriage. (He retires to some distance.)
THEU. (after looking close at them, to TRANIO). Why, upon my word, they are much more unsound than I thought them at first.
TRA. Why so? THEU. Because, i' faith, the woodworm has split them both from the bottom.
TRA. I think they were cut at an improper season; that fault damages them; but even as it is, they are quite good enough, if they are covered with pitch. But it was no foreign pulse-eating artisan [11] did this work. Don't you see the joints in the door? (Pointing.)
THEU. I see them. TRA. Look, how close together they are sleeping.
THEU. Sleeping? TRA. That is, how they wink, I intended to say. Are you satisfied?
THEU. The more I look at each particular, the more it pleases me.
TRA. (pointing). Don't you see the painting, where one crow [12] is baffling two vultures? The crow stands there; it's pecking at them both in turn. This way, look, prithee, towards me [13], that you may be able to see the crow. (THEUROPIDES turns towards him.) Now do you see it?
THEU. (looking about). For my part, I really see no crow there.
TRA. But do you look in that direction, towards yourselves, since you cannot discover the crow, if perchance you may be able to espy the vultures. (THEUROPIDES turns towards SIMO.) Now do you see them?
THEU. Upon my faith, I don't see them.
TRA. But I can see two vultures.
THEU. To make an end of it with you, I don't see any bird at all painted here.
TRA. Well then, I give it up. I excuse you; it is through age you cannot see.
THEU. These things which I can see, really they do all please me mightily.
SIM. (coming forward). Now, at length, it's worth your while to move further on. THEU. Troth, you give good advice.
SIM. (calling at the door). Ho there, boy! take this person round this house and the apartments. But I myself would have shown you round, if I hadn't had business at the Forum.
THEU. Away with any one to show me over. I don't want to be shown over.
Whatever it is, I'd rather go wrong than any one should show me over.
SIM. The house I'm speaking of.
THEU. Then I'll go in without any one to show me over.
SIM. Go, by all means.
THEU. I'll go in-doors, then.
TRA. (holding him back). Stop, please; let me see whether the dog—THEU. Very well then, look. (TRANIO looks into the passage.)
TRA. There is one. THEU. (looking in). Where is it?
TRA. (to the dog). Be off and be hanged! 'St, won't you be off to utter perdition with you? What, do you still linger? 'St, away with you from here!
SIM. (coming nearer to the door). There's no danger. You only move on. It's as gentle [14] as a woman in childbed. You may boldly step in-doors wherever you like. I'm going hence to the Forum.
THEU. You've acted obligingly. Good speed to you! (Exit SIMO.) Tranio, come, make that dog move away from the door inside, although it isn't to be feared.
TRA. Nay but (pointing), you look at it, how gently it lies.
Unless you'd like yourself to appear troublesome and cowardly—
THEU. Very well, just as you like.
TRA. Follow me this way then.
THEU. For my part, I shall not move in any direction from your feet. (They go into the house.)
[Footnote 1: Sleep is not good)—Ver. 681. It was a custom with the Romans to take a nap at noon, after the "prandium." The modern Italians have the same practice, and call it the "siesta." Simo has his private reasons for thinking that this nap is not wholesome in his own case.]
[Footnote 2: Down upon him)—Ver. 698. "Hoc habet." Literally, "he has it;" a term used by the Spectators, when a gladiator received a wound at the gladiatoral games.]
[Footnote 3: By means of which to drive grief)—Ver. 699. He plays upon the resemblance of the words "dolo" and "dolorem."]
[Footnote 4: Wasn't it hauled ashore)—Vet. 723. It was the custom, when ships were not in use, especially in the winter time, to draw them up on chore, by means of rollers placed beneath them.]
[Footnote 5: A woman's apartment)—Ver. 741. "Gynaeceum." This was a name borrowed from the Greeks, for the apartments in the house which were especially devoted to the use of the females.]
[Footnote 6: No woman of Umbria)—Ver. 756. This is a poor pun upon the different acceptations of the word "umbra," which may signify, according to the context, "shade," or "a woman of Umbria." Simo means it in the former, while Tranio chooses to take it in the latter sense. Simo does not like this attempt at wit, and tells him not to be impertinent. We may here observe, that Plautus was born at Sarsina, a town of Umbria.]
[Footnote 7: Agathocles)—Ver. 761. Agathocles rose from the station of a potter to be king of Sicily.]
[Footnote 8: To blow and swallow)—Ver. 777. Or "exhale and inhale." A proverbial expression, very similar to that in use with us, that "a person cannot blow hot and cold at the same time."]
[Footnote 9: Reaps on his own farm)—Ver. 785. A country proverb, meaning "every one for himself."]
[Footnote 10: Away with any one to show)—Ver. 804. He says this, not liking the mention of the word "perductor," which, beside meaning an "attendant" or "one to escort," signifies a "pander" or "procurer." So in the next line, "perducto" means "to show over" or "to act the procurer."]
[Footnote 11: Foreign pulse-eating artisan)—Ver. 817. From the use of the word "pultiphagus," he probably alludes to Carthaginian workmen, who were very skilful at working in wood. In the Poenulus, Hanno the Carthaginian is called "patruus pultiphagonides," "the pulse- eating kinsman." If this is the meaning, it is pretty clear that he is not speaking in praise of the workmanship. Some, however, think that as, in early times, the lower classes at Rome lived upon "puls," "pap" or "pottage," the Scene being at Athens, Roman workmen are alluded to; if so, he may mean to speak in praise of the work, and to say that no bungling artists made the doors. See the Note in p. 355. The joints are said to wink, from the close conjunction of the eyelids in the act of winking.]
[Footnote 12: Where one crow)—Ver. 821. By the "crow," he means himself; and by the "vultures," the two old men. Simo is probably standing at some distance off; and knowing that his master's sight is not good, he feels that he may deride him with impunity.]
[Footnote 13: Towards me)—Ver. 822. "Ad me." Theuropides thinks he means, "in my direction;" whereas Tranio really means, "look 'at me,' and you will see the crow;" though he does not intend that his master shall take it in that sense.]
[Footnote 14: It's as gentle)—Ver. 840. This, probably, is intended to refer to the statue of a dog lying down in the vestibule, and not a real one. Pictures of dogs, with "cave canem" written beneath, were sometimes painted on the wall near the door.]
Enter PHANISCUS.
PHA. (to himself). Servants who, though they are free from fault, still stand in awe of punishment, those same are wont to be serviceable to their masters. But those who fear nothing, after they have merited punishment, hit upon foolish plans for themselves: they exercise themselves in running; they take to flight. But, if they are caught, they acquire from punishment a hoard, which by good means they cannot. They increase from a very little, and from that they lay by a treasure. The resolution that's in my mind is to be determined to be on my guard against punishment, before my back comes to lose its state of soundness. As hitherto it has been, so does it become my hide still to be, without a bruise, and such that I should decline its being beaten. If I have any control over it, I shall keep it well covered up [1]. When punishment is being showered down on others, don't let it be showered down on me. But as servants wish their master to be, such is he wont to be. He is good to the good, bad to the bad. But now at our house at home there do live so many rogues, lavish of their property [2], bearers of stripes. When they are called to go fetch their master, "I shan't go; don't be plaguing me; I know where you are hurrying off to," is the reply. "Now, faith, you mule, you're longing to go to pasturage out of doors [3]." With better deserts, this advantage have I reaped from them, and, in consequence, I have come from home. I alone, out of so many servants, am going to fetch my master. When, to-morrow, my master comes to know this, in the morning he will chastise them with bull's-hide spoils. In fine, I care less for their backs than for my own. Much rather shall they be bull's- hide-scourged than I be rope-scourged [4]. (Moves on.)
Enter another SERVANT.
SER. Hold you and stop this instant. Phaniscus! look round, I say!
PHA. (not turning round). Don't be annoying to me.
SER. Do see how scornful the monkey is!
PHA. I am so for myself; I choose to be. Why do you trouble yourself about it? (Walking on.)
SER. Are you going to stop this instant, you dirty parasite? PHA. (turning round). How am I a parasite?
SER. Why, I'll tell you: you can be drawn anywhere by victuals. Do you give yourself airs, because your master's so fond of you?
PHA. (rubbing his eyes). O dear, my eyes do ache [5].
SER. Why so?
PHA. Because the smoke's so troublesome.
SER. Hold your tongue, will you, you clever workman, who are in the habit of coining money out of lead [6].
PHA. You cannot compel me to be abusive to you. My master knows me.
SER. Why, really, his own pillow [7] he ought to know, for resting on when drunk.
PHA. If you were sober, you wouldn't be abusive.
SER. Am I to give heed to you, when you won't to me?
PHA. But, you rascal, you come along with me to fetch him.
SER. Troth now, Phaniscus, prithee, do leave off talking about these matters.
PHA. I'll do so, and knock at the door. (Knocks at the door of the house of THEUROPIDES.) Hallo there! is there any person here to protect this door from a most serious injury? (Knocking again.) Is any one, is any one, I say, coming out here and going to open it? Why, really, no one comes out here. Just as befits such worthless fellows, so they are. But on that account, I've the more need to be cautious that no one may come out and use me ill. (They stand aside.)
[Footnote 1: Well covered up)—Ver. 865. He alludes to the practice of stripping disobedient slaves, for the purpose of flogging them.]
[Footnote 2: Lavish of their property)—Ver. 870. That is, of their backs.]
[Footnote 3: To pasturage out of doors)—Ver. 876. This was probably a proverbial phrase for going to the "thermopolium," the "hot liquor-shop" or "tippling-house," so much frequented by the slaves. See the Trinummus, 1. 1013, and the Note to the passage.]
[Footnote 4: bull's-hide-scourged—rope-scourged)—Ver. 882.
"Bucaedae—restio." The latter word properly signifies "a ropemaker."
The former is probably coined by Plautus.]
[Footnote 5: My eyes do ache)—Ver. 890. Phaniscus probably means to say, that the sight of him is as annoying to his eyes as smoke can be.]
[Footnote 6: Money out of lead)—Ver. 892. According to Erasmus,
(Adagia Chil. v. Cent. 1,) this was a proverbial expression among the
Romans, signifying the ability to put on a specious appearance.]
[Footnote 7: His own pillow)—Ver. 894. There is an indelicate allusion in this line; and another turn has been given to it in the Translation.]
TRA. What's your opinion of this bargain?
THEU. I am quite delighted.
TRA. Does it seem to you to have been bought too dear?
THEU. I' faith, I'm sure that I never anywhere saw a house thrown away, this one only excepted.
TRA. Does it please you, then?
THEU. Does it please me, do you ask me? Why yes, upon my faith, it really does please me very much.
TRA. What a fine set of rooms for the women! What a porch!
THEU. Exceedingly fine. For my part, I don't think that there is any porch larger than this in the public buildings.
TRA. Why, I myself and Philolaches have taken the measure of all the porches in the public buildings.
THEU. Well, what then?
TRA. This is far larger than all of them.
THEU. Immortal Gods—a splendid bargain! On my word, if he were now to offer six great talents of silver, ready money, for it, I would never take it.
TRA. Upon my faith, if you were inclined to take it, I would never let you.
THEU. My money has been well invested upon this purchase.
TRA. Boldly confess that by my advice and prompting it was done, who urged him to take up the money of the Banker upon interest, which we paid this person by way of deposit.
THEU. You've saved the whole ship. Eighty minae [1], you say, are owing for it?
TRA. Not a coin more. THEU. He may have it to-day.
TRA. By all means so, that there may be no dispute arising; or else pay them over to me, I'll then pay them over to him.
THEU. But still, don't let there be any taking me in, if I do give them to you.
TRA. Could I venture to deceive you in deed or word even in jest only?
THEU. Could I venture not to be on my guard against you, so as not to trust anything to you?
TRA. Why, have I ever imposed upon you in anything, since I was your servant?
THEU. But I've taken good care of that; I owe thanks to myself and my own judgment for that. If I'm only on my guard against you solely, I'm quite wise enough.
TRA. (aside). I agree with you.
THEU. Now be off into the country; tell my son that I've arrived.
TRA. I'll do as you wish.
THEIU. Run with all speed; bid him come to the city at once together with you.
TRA. Very well. (Aside.) Now I'll betake myself this way by the back-door to my boon-companions; I'll tell them that things are quiet here, and how I have kept him away from here. (Exit.
[Footnote 1: Eighty minae)—Ver. 919. Forty having been already paid (according to his story) as a deposit, and there being 120 minae in two talents.]
PHA. (coming forward). Really, I don't hear either the sound of revellers here, as once it was, nor yet the music-girl singing, nor any one else. (Goes towards the door.)
THEU. What's the matter here? What are these people seeking at my house?
What do they want? What are they peeping in for?
PHA. I shall proceed to knock at the door. (Knocks.)
Hallo there, unlock the door! Hallo, Tranio! are you going to open it, I say?
THEU. (advancing). What story's this, I wonder?
PHA. (aloud). Are you going to open it, I say? I've come to fetch my master Callidamates.
THEU. Harkye, you lads! what are you doing there? Why are you breaking down that door?
PHA. Our master's at a drinking-party here.
THEU. Your master at a drinking-party here?
PHA. I say so.
THEU. You're carrying the joke too far my lad.
PHA. We've come to fetch him.
THEU. What person? PHA. Our master. Prithee, how often must I tell you?
THEU. There's no one living here my lad; for I do think that you are a decent lad.
PHA. Doesn't a young gentleman called Philolaches live in this house?
SER. (aside). This old fellow's crack-brained, surely.
PHA. You are entirely mistaken, respected sir [1]; for unless he moved from here to-day or yesterday, I know for certain that he's living here.
THEU. Why, no one has been living here for these six months past.
SER. You are dreaming. THEU. What, I?
SER. You. THEU. Don't you be impertinent. Let me speak to the lad. (Pointing to PHANISCUS.)
PHA. No one lives there? O dear—
THEU. It's the fact.
PHA. Really! why, yesterday and the day before, four, five, six days ago, all along, in fact, since his father went abroad from here, eating and drinking have never ceased for a single three days here.
THEU. What is it you say?
PHA. That eating and drinking have never stopped for a single three days here, bringing in wenches, living like Greeks, hiring harpists and music-girls.
THEU. Who was it did this?
PHA. Philolaches. THEU. What Philolaches?
PHA. He whose father I take to be Theuropides.
THEU. (apart). O dear, O dear! I'm utterly undone, if he says the truth in this. I'll continue to question him still. Do you say that this Philolaches, whoever he is, has been in the habit of drinking here together with your master?
PHA. Here, I tell you.
THEU. My lad, contrary to your appearance, you are a fool. See now, please, that you've not perchance been dropping in somewhere for an afternoon's whet [2], and have been drinking there a little more than was enough.
PHA. What do you mean? THEU. Just what I say; don't be going by mistake to other persons' houses.
PHA. I know where I ought to go, and the place to which I was to come. Philolaches lives here, whose father is Theuropides; and who, after his father went away to trade, made free a music-girl here.
THEU. Philolaches, say you? PHA. Just so; Philematium, I mean.
THEU. For how much? SER. For thirty talents.
PHA. No, by Apollo [3]; you mean minae.
THEU. Do you say that a mistress was purchased for Philolaches for thirty minae?
PHA. I do say so. THEU. And that he gave her her freedom?
PHA. I do say so. THEU. And that after his father had departed hence abroad, he has been carousing here continually with your master?
PHA. I do say so. THEU. Well, has he made purchase of the house next door here?
PHA. I don't say so. THEU. Has he given forty minae, too, to this person, to be as a deposit?
PHA. Nor yet do I say so.
THEU. Ah me! you've proved my ruin!
PHA. Aye, and he has proved the ruin of his father.
THEU. You prophesy the truth! I could wish it false!
PHA. A friend of his father, I suppose?
THEU. Ah me! Upon my faith, you do pronounce him to be a wretched father.
PHA. Why really, this is nothing at all—thirty minae, in comparison with the other expenses he has incurred in good living. He has ruined his father. There's one servant there, a very great scoundrel, Tranio by name; he could even waste the revenue of a Hercules [4]. On my word, I'm sadly distrest for his father; for when he comes to know that things have gone on thus, a hot coal will be scorching his breast, poor man.
THEU. If, indeed, this is the truth.
PHA. What am I to gain, that I should tell a lie? (Knocks again at the door.) Hallo, you! is any one coming to open this door?
SER. Why do you knock in this way, when there's no one in the house?
PHA. I fancy that he's gone elsewhere to carouse. Now then, let's begone. (They move as if going.)
THEU. What, my lad, are you off then? Liberty's the overcoat for your back [5].
PHA. Nothing have I with which to cover my back, except to pay respect and service to my master.
(Exeunt PHANISCUS and SERVANT.
THEU. (to himself). By my troth, I am undone! What need is there of talking? According to the words I have heard, I surely haven't lately voyaged hence to Aegypt, but even to some desolate land and the most remote shores have I been borne about, so much am I at a loss to know where I now am. But I shall soon know; for see, here's the person of whom my son bought the house.
[Footnote 1: Respected sir)—Ver. 944. "Pater," Literally, "father."]
[Footnote 2: An afternoon's whet)—Ver. 958. "Merendam." According to some, this meal was the same as the "prandium," or "breakfast;" while others take it to have been a slight meal or luncheon, taken at about four or five in the afternoon.]
[Footnote 3: No, by Apollo)—Ver. 965. [Greek: Ma ton Apollo]. He uses a Greek adjuration.]
[Footnote 4: The revenue of a Hercules)—Ver. 976. It was the custom with many to devote to Hercules the tenth part of their possessions. Consequently, the revenues belonging to the Temples of this Deity would be especially large.]
[Footnote 5: The overcoat for your back)—Ver. 982. Schmieder thinks this is said insultingly to Phaniscus. It would, however, appear otherwise: Phaniscus having no "paenula," or "overcoat," on, Theuropides, who thinks him a very worthy fellow, says, "My good fellow, your freedom would make you a very fine overcoat." ]
THEU. What are you about?
SIM. I'm coming home from the Forum.
THEU. Has anything new been going on at the Forum to-day?
SIM. Why yes. THEU. What is it, pray?
SIM. I saw a dead man being carried to burial.
THEU. Dear me! that is something new!
SIM. I saw one who was dead being carried out to burial [1]. They said that he had been alive but just before.
THEU. Woe to that head of yours for your nonsense!
SIM. Why are you, thus idling about, enquiring after the news?
THEU. Because I've just arrived from abroad.
SIM. I'm engaged out to dine: don't suppose I shall invite you [2].
THEU. I' faith, I don't want.
SIM. But, to-morrow, unless any person invites me first, I'll even dine with you.
THEU. I' faith, and that, too, I don't want. Unless you are engaged with something of greater importance, lend me your attention.
SIM. By all means. THEU. You have received, as far as I understand, forty minae of Philolaches.
SIM. Never a coin, so far as I know.
THEU. What? Not from my servant Tranio?
SIM. Much less is that the case.
THEU. Which he gave you by way of deposit?
SIM. What are you dreaming about?
THEU. What, I? Why, really, 'tis yourself, who hope that, by dissembling in this manner, you'll be able to make void this bargain.
SIM. Why, what do you mean? THEU. The business that, in my absence, my son transacted with you here.
SIM. How did your son, in your absence, transact any business with me?
What pray, or on what day?
THEU. I owe you eighty minae of silver.
SIM. Not to me, indeed, upon my faith; but still, if you do owe them, give them me. Faith must be kept. Don't be attempting to deny it.
THEU. Assuredly, I shall not deny that I owe them; and I shall pay them.
Do you take care how you deny that you received the forty from him.
SIM. Troth now, prithee, look this way at me, and answer me. He said that you were wishful to give a wife to your son; for that reason, he said that you intended building on your own premises.
THEU. I, intended building here? SIM. So he told me.
THEU. Ah me! I'm ruined outright! I've hardly any voice left [3].
Neighbours, I'm undone, ruined quite!
SIM. Has Tranio been causing any confusion?
THEU. Yes; he has thrown everything into confusion. He has made a fool of me to-day in a disgraceful manner.
SIM. What is it you say?
THEU. This matter is just as I am telling you; he has this day made a fool of me in an outrageous manner. Now I beseech you that you'll kindly aid me, and lend me your assistance.
SIM. What would you have?
THEU. I beg of you, come this way together with me.
SIM. Be it so. THEU. Lend me the assistance of your slaves and some scourges.
SIM. Take them by all means.
THEU. At the same time I'll tell you about this, in what a fashion he has this day imposed upon me. (They go into the house of SIMO.)
[Footnote 1: Being carried out to burial)—Ver. 991. It is supposed that in this reply he plays upon the question of Theuropides, who uses the word "processit" in his question, which may either mean, "what has been going on?" or "what procession has there been?"]
[Footnote 2: I shall invite you)—996. He alludes to the universal custom of giving friends a "coena viatica," or welcome entertainment, on arriving from off a journey.]
[Footnote 3: I've hardly any voice left)—Ver. 1019. "Vocis non habeo satis." Literally, "I have not voice enough."]
Enter TRANIO.
TRA. (to himself). The man that shall prove timid in critical matters, will not be worth a nutshell. And, really, to say what that expression, "worth a nutshell," means, I don't know. But after my master sent me into the country to fetch his son hither, I went that way (pointing) slily through the lane to our garden. At the entrance to the garden that's in the lane, I opened the door; and by that road I led out all the troop, both men and women. After, from being in a state of siege, I had led out my troops to a place of safety, I
adopted the plan of convoking a senate of my comrades, and when I had convoked it, they forthwith banished me from the senate. When I myself perceived that the matter must be decided by my own judgment, as soon as ever I could, I did the same as many others do, whose affairs are in a critical or a perplexed state; they proceed to render them more perplexed, so that nothing can be settled. But I know full well, that now by no means can this be concealed from the old man. But how's this, that our next neighbour's door makes a noise? Why, surely this is my master: I'd like to have a taste of his talk. (Goes aside, out of sight of THEUROPIDES.)
Enter THEUROPIDES, from SIMO'S house.
THEU. (in the doorway, speaking to SIMO'S SLAVES). Do you stand there, in that spot within the threshold; so that, the very instant I call, you may sally forth at once. Quickly fasten the handcuffs upon him. I'll wait before the house for this fellow that makes a fool of me, whose hide I'll make a fool of in fine style, if I live.
TRA. (apart). The affair's all out. Now it's best for you,
Tranio, to consider what you are to do.
THEU. (to himself). I must go to work to catch him cleverly and artfully when he comes here. I'll not disclose to him my feelings all at once; I'll throw out my line; I'll conceal the fact that I know anything of these matters.
TRA. (apart). O cunning mortal! not another person in Athens can be pronounced more clever than he. One can no more this day deceive him than he can a stone. I'll accost the man; I'll address him.
THEU. (to himself). Now I do wish that he would come here.
TRA. (apart). I' faith, if me indeed you want, here I am ready at hand for you. (Comes forward.)
THEU. Bravo! Tranio, what's being done?
TRA. The country people are coming from the country: Philolaches will be here in a moment.
THEU. I' faith, he comes opportunely for me. This neighbour of ours I take to be a shameless and dishonest fellow.
TRA. Why so?
THEU. Inasmuch as he denies that he knows you.
TRA. Denies it? THEU. And declares that you never gave him a single coin of money.
TRA. Out with you, you are joking me, I do believe; he doesn't deny it.
THEU. How so? TRA. I am sure now that you are joking; for surely he doesn't deny it.
THEU. Nay but, upon my faith, he really does deny it; or that he has sold this house to Philolaches.
TRA. Well now, pray, has he denied that the money was paid him?
THEU. Nay more, he offered to take an oath to me, if I desired it, that he had neither sold this house, nor had any money him paid been. I told him the same that you told me.
TRA. What did he say? THEU. He offered to give up all his servants for examination.
TRA. Nonsense! On my faith, he never will give them up.
THEU. He really does offer them.
TRA. Why then, do you summon him to trial.
THEU. Wait a bit; I'll make trial as I fancy. I'm determined on it. TRA.
Bring the fellow here to me.
THEU. What then, if I go fetch some men?
TRA. It ought to hare been done already; or else bid the young man to demand possession of the house.
THEU. Why no, I want to do this first—to put the servants under examination [1].
TRA. I' faith, I think it ought to be done. Meantime, I'll take possession of this altar [2]. (Runs to the altar.)
THEU. Why so? TRA. You can understand nothing. Why, that those may not be able to take refuge here whom he shall give up for examination, I'll keep guard here for you; so that the examination may not come to nothing.
THEU. Get up from the altar. TRA. By no means.
THEU. Prithee, don't you take possession of the altar.
TRA. Why so?
THEU. You shall hear; why, because I especially want this, for them to be taking refuge there. Do let them; so much the more easily shall I get him fined before the judge.
TRA. What you intend to do, do it. Why do you wish to sow further strife? You don't know how ticklish a thing it is to go to law.
THEU. Just get up, (beckoning) this way; it's, then, to ask your advice upon something that I want you.
TRA. Still, as I am, I'll give my advice from this spot; my wits are much sharper when I'm sitting [3]. Besides, advice is given with higher sanction from holy places [4].
THEU. Get up; don't be trifling. Just look me in the face. TRA. (looking at him). I am looking.
THEU. Do you see me? TRA. I do see—that if any third person were to step in here, he would die of hunger.
THEU. Why so? TRA. Because he would get no profit; for, upon my faith, we are both artful ones.
THEU. I'm undone! TRA. What's the matter with you?
THEU. You have deceived me. TRA. How so, pray?
THEU. You've wiped me clean [5]. TRA. Consider, please, if it wasn't well done; is your nose running still?
THEU. Aye, all my brains besides have you been wiping out of my head as well. For all your villanies I have discovered from their very roots; and not from the roots, indeed, i' faith, but even from beneath the very roots. Never this day, by my troth, will you have planned all this without being punished. I shall at once, you villain, order fire and faggots [6] to be placed around you.
TRA. Don't do it; for it's my way to be sweeter boiled than roasted.
THEU. Upon my faith, I'll make an example of you.
TRA. Because I please you, you select me for an example.
THEU. Say now: what kind of a person did I leave my son, when I went away from here?
TRA. One with feet and hands, with fingers, ears, eyes, and lips. THEU. I asked you something else than that.
TRA. For that reason I now answer you something else. But look, I see Callidamates, the friend of your son, coming this way. Deal with me in his presence, if you want anything.
[Footnote 1: Servants under examination)—Ver. 1073.
"Quaestioni." "Examination by torture;" which was the method used by the
Romans for extracting confessions from slaves.]
[Footnote 2: Take position of this altar)—Ver. 1074. When a person took refuge at an altar, he could not be brought to justice, or have violence offered to his person. According to some writers, there were always two altars on the stage of Comedy, one on the right hand, sacred to Apollo, and one on the left, devoted to that Divinity or Hero in honor of whom the Play was being acted.]
[Footnote 3: Sharper when I'm sitting)—1083. Warner suggests that a little raillery is intended here, upon the custom of sitting when dispensing justice and paying adoration to the Gods.]
[Footnote 4: With higher sanction from holy places)—Ver. 1084. The ancients made use of sacred places for the purpose of debating on affairs of importance in, as being likely to add weight and authority to their judgment. The Roman Senate often met in the Temples, and there administered justice and gate audience to ambassadors.]
[Footnote 5: You've wiped me clean)—Ver. 1089. "Emungo," "to wipe the nose" for a person, also meant "to cheat" or "impose upon him;" probably, by reason of the state of helplessness it implied in the party who was so treated.]
[Footnote 6: Order fire and faggots)—Ver. 1099. Though a suppliant could not be removed from the altar by force, still it was allowable to burn him away, by surrounding him with fire.]
CALL. (to himself). When I had buried all drowsiness [1], and slept off the debauch, Philolaches told me that his father had arrived here from abroad; in what a way too his servant had imposed upon the man on his arrival; he said that he was afraid to come into his presence. Now of our company I am deputed sole ambassador, to obtain peace from his father. And look, most opportunely here he is. (Accosting THEUROPIDES.) I wish you health, Theuropides, and am glad that you've got back safe from abroad. You must dine here with us to-day. Do so.
THEU. Callidamates, may the Gods bless you. For your dinner I offer you my thanks.
CALL. Will you come then? TRA. (To THEUROPIDES.) Do promise him;
I'll go for you, if you don't like.
THEU. Whip-scoundrel, laughing at me still?
TRA. What, because I say that I'll go to dinner for you?
THEU. But you shan't go. I'll have you carried to the cross, as you deserve.
TRA. Come, let this pass, and say that I shall go to the dinner. Why are you silent?
CALL. (to TRANIO). But why, you greatest of simpletons, have you taken refuge at the altar?
TRA. He frightened me on his arrival. (To THEUROPIDES.) Say now, what I have done amiss. Look, now there's an umpire for us both; come, discuss the matter.
THEU. I say that you have corrupted my son.
TRA. Only listen. I confess that he has done amiss; that he has given freedom to his mistress; that in your absence he has borrowed money at interest; that, I admit, is squandered away. Has he done anything different to what sons of the noblest families do?
THEU. Upon my faith, I must be on my guard with you; you are too clever a pleader.
CALL. Just let me be umpire in this matter. (To TRANIO.) Get up;
I'll seat myself there.
THEU. By all means: take the management of this dispute to yourself. (Pushes him to one side of the altar.)
TRA. Why, this is surely a trick. Make me, then, not to be in a fright, and yourself to be in a fright in my stead.
THEU. I consider now everything of trifling consequence, compared with the way in which he has fooled me.
TRA. I' faith, 'twas cleverly done, and I rejoice that it was done.
Those who have white heads ought at that age to be wiser.
THEU. What am I now to do if my friend Demipho or Philonides—
TRA. Tell them in what way your servant made a fool of you. You would be affording most capital plots for Comedies.
CALL. Hold your tongue awhile; let me speak in my turn.—Listen. THEU.
By all means.
CALL. In the first place of all then, you know that I am the companion of your son; he has gone to my house, for he is ashamed to come into your presence, because he knows that you are aware what he has done. Now, I beseech you, do pardon his simplicity and youthfulness. He is your son; you know that this age is wont to play such pranks; whatever he has done, he has done in company with me. We have acted wrong: the interest, principal, and all the sum at which the mistress vas purchased, all of it we will find, and will contribute together, at our own cost, not yours.
THEU. No mediator could have come to me more able to influence me than yourself. I am neither angry with him [2], nor do I blame him for anything: nay more, in my presence, wench on, drink, do what you please. If he's ashamed of this, that he has been extravagant, I have sufficient satisfaction.
CALL. I'm quite ashamed myself.
TRA. He grants pardon thus far; now then, what is to become of me?
THEU. Filth, tied up as you hang, you shall be beaten with stripes.
TRA. Even though I am ashamed [3]?
THEU. Upon my faith, I'll be the death of you, if I live!
CALL. Make this pardon general; do, pray, forgive Tranio this offence, for my sake.
THEU. I would more readily put up with your obtaining any other request of me than that I should forbear sending to perdition this fellow for his most villanous doings.
CALL. Pray, do pardon him. TRA. Do pardon me?
THEU. Look there, don't you see how the villain sticks there? (Pointing to the altar.)
CALL. Tranio, do be quiet, if you are in your senses.
THEU. Only do you be quiet in urging this matter. I'll subdue him with stripes, so that he shall be quiet.
CALL. Really, there is no need. Come now, do allow yourself to be prevailed upon.
THEU. I wish you would not request me.
CALL. Troth now, I do entreat you.
THEU. I wish you would not request me, I tell you.
CALL. It's in vain you wish me not; only do grant this one pardon for his offence, pray, for my sake, I do entreat you.
TRA. Why make this difficulty? As if to-morrow, I shouldn't be very soon committing some other fault; then, both of them, both this one and that, you'll be able to punish soundly.
CALL. Do let me prevail upon you.
THEU. Well then, have it so; begone, unpunished! (TRANIO jumps down from the altar.) There now, (pointing to CALLIDAMATES) return him thanks for it. (Coming forward.) Spectators, this Play is finished; grant us your applause [4].
[Footnote 1: Buried all drowsiness)—Ver. 1102. Generally we hear of a person "being buried in sleep;" but Callidamates considers that a drunkard, when he awakes from his sleep, "buries slumber." It is not unlike the words of Shakspeare, in Macbeth: "Macbeth doth murder sleep!"]
[Footnote 2: Neither angry with him)—Ver. 1142. "Illi," "with him;" evidently meaning Philolaches.]
[Footnote 3: Though I am ashamed)—Ver. 1146. This piece of impudence is very characteristic of Tranio.]
[Footnote 4: Grant us your applause)—Ver. 1160. We may here remark that The Intriguing Chambermaid, one of Fielding's Comedies, is founded upon this entertaining Play.]
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