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Title: The Comedies of Terence - Literally Translated into English Prose, with Notes
Author: Terence
Language: English
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    Literally Translated into English Prose,
                  with Notes.

          By HENRY THOMAS RILEY, B.A.,
     Late Scholar of Clare Hall, Cambridge.

               To which is added
        the blank verse translation of
                 GEORGE COLMAN.

                   New York:
         Harper & Brothers, Publishers,
                Franklin Square.


  Comprising Literal Translations of

  Tacitus. 2 Vols.
  Livy. 2 Vols.
  Cicero’s Orations.
  Cicero’s Offices, Lælius, Cato Major, Paradoxes,
    Scipio’s Dream, Letter to Quintus.
  Cicero On Oratory and Orators.
  Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations, The Nature of the Gods,
    and The Commonwealth.
  Homer’s Iliad.
  Homer’s Odyssey.
  Demosthenes. 2 Vols.
  Euripides. 2 Vols.
  Plato (Select Dialogues).

12mo, Cloth, $1.00 per Volume.

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

_The above works are for sale by all booksellers, or they will be sent
by HARPER & BROTHERS to any address on receipt of price as quoted. If
ordered sent by mail, 10 per cent. should be added to the price to
cover cost of postage._


In this Version of the Plays of Terence the Text of Volbehr, 1846,
has been followed, with the few exceptions mentioned in the Notes.

The Translator has endeavored to convey faithfully the meaning of
the author, and although not rigorously literal, he has, he trusts,
avoided such wild departures from the text as are found in the
versions of Echard, Cooke, Patrick, and Gordon.



  Andria; or, the Fair Andrian                       1
  Eunuchus; or, the Eunuch                          63
  Heautontimorumenos; or, the Self-Tormentor       132
  Adelphi; or, the Brothers                        197
  Hecyra; the Mother-in-law                        254
  Phormio; or, the Scheming Parasite               301

       *       *       *       *       *
           *       *       *       *




  SIMO,[1] an aged Athenian.
  PAMPHILUS,[2] son of Simo.
  SOSIA,[3] freedman of Simo.
  CHREMES,[4] an aged Athenian.
  CHARINUS,[5] a young Athenian, in love with Philumena.
  CRITO,[6] a native of Andros.
  DAVUS,[7] servant of Simo.
  DROMO,[8] servant of Simo.
  BYRRHIA,[9] servant of Charinus.

  GLYCERIUM,[10] a young woman beloved by Pamphilus.
  MYSIS,[11] her maid-servant.
  LESBIA,[12] a midwife.

_Scene._--Athens; before the houses of SIMO and GLYCERIUM.


Chremes and Phania were brothers, citizens of Athens. Chremes going to
Asia, leaves his daughter, Pasibula, in the care of his brother
Phania, who, afterward setting sail with Pasibula for Asia, is wrecked
off the Isle of Andros. Escaping with their lives, they are kindly
received by a native of the island; and Phania soon afterward dies
there. The Andrian changes the name of the girl to Glycerium, and
brings her up, as his own child, with his daughter Chrysis. On his
death, Chrysis and Glycerium sail for Athens to seek their fortune
there. Chrysis being admired by several Athenian youths, Pamphilus,
the son of Simo, an opulent citizen, chances to see Glycerium, and
falls violently in love with her. She afterward becomes pregnant by
him, on which he makes her a promise of marriage. In the mean time,
Chremes, who is now living at Athens, and is ignorant of the fate of
Pasibula, agrees with Simo, the father of Pamphilus, to give
Philumena, another daughter, in marriage to Pamphilus. While these
arrangements are being made, Chrysis dies; on which Simo accidentally
discovers his son’s connection with Glycerium. Chremes, also coming to
hear of it, declines the match, having no idea that Glycerium is
really his own daughter. Simo, however, in order to test his son’s
feelings, resolves to pretend that the marriage-day is fixed. Meeting
Pamphilus in the town, he desires him to go home and prepare for the
wedding, which is to take place immediately. In his perplexity, the
youth has recourse to his servant Davus, who, having heard of the
refusal of Chremes, suspects the design of Simo. At this conjuncture,
Charinus, a friend of Pamphilus, who is enamored of Philumena, but has
been rejected by her father, entreats Pamphilus to put off the
marriage, for at least a few days. Disclosing his own aversion to the
match, Pamphilus readily engages to do this. In order the more
effectually to break it off, Davus advises Pamphilus to pretend a
readiness to comply with his father’s wishes, supposing that of course
Chremes will steadily persist in his refusal. Pamphilus does as he is
advised, on which Simo again applies to Chremes, who, after some
entreaty, gives his consent. Just at this conjuncture, Glycerium is
delivered of a son; and by the advice of Davus, it is laid before the
door of Simo’s house. Chremes happening to see it there, and
ascertaining that Pamphilus is its father, again refuses to give him
his daughter. At this moment, Crito, a native of Andros, arrives, who,
being a relative of Chrysis, has come to Athens to look after her
property. Through him, Chremes discovers that Glycerium is no other
than his long-lost daughter, Pasibula; on which he consents to her
immediate marriage with Pamphilus, who promises Charinus that he will
use his best endeavors to obtain for him the hand of Philumena.


Performed at the Megalensian Games;[13] M. Fulvius and M. Glabrio
being Curule Æediles.[14] Ambivius Turpio and Lucius Atilius
Prænestinus[15] performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius,[16]
composed the music, to a pair of treble flutes and bass flutes[17]
alternately. And it is entirely Grecian.[18] Published-- M. Marcellus
and Cneius Sulpicius being Consuls.[19]




Pamphilus seduces Glycerium, wrongfully supposed to be a sister of a
Courtesan, an Andrian by birth; and she having become pregnant, he
gives his word that she shall be his wife; but his father has engaged
for him another, the daughter of Chremes; and when he discovers the
intrigue he pretends that the nuptials are about to take place,
desiring to learn what intentions his son may have. By the advice of
Davus, Pamphilus does not resist; but Chremes, as soon as he has seen
the little child born of Glycerium, breaks off the match, {and}
declines him for a son-in-law. Afterward, this Glycerium, unexpectedly
discovered {to be} his own daughter, he bestows as a wife on
Pamphilus, the other on Charinus.


The poet, when first he applied his mind to writing, thought that the
only duty which devolved on him was, that the Plays he should compose
might please the public. But he perceives that it has fallen out
entirely otherwise; for he is wasting his labor in writing Prologues,
not for the purpose of relating the plot, but to answer the slanders
of a malevolent old Poet.[20] Now I beseech you, give your attention
to the thing which they impute as a fault. Menander composed the
Andrian[21] and the Perinthian.[22] He who knows either of them well,
will know them both; they are in plot not very different, and yet they
have been composed in different language and style. What suited, he
confesses he has transferred into the Andrian from the Perinthian, and
has employed them as his own. These parties censure this proceeding;
and on this point they differ {from him}, that Plays ought not to be
mixed up together. By being {thus} knowing, do they not show that they
know nothing at all? For while they are censuring him, they are
censuring Nævius, Plautus, {and} Ennius,[23] whom our {Poet} has for
his precedents; whose carelessness he prefers to emulate, rather than
the mystifying carefulness[24] of those parties. Therefore, I advise
them to be quiet in future, and to cease to slander; that they may not
be made acquainted with their own misdeeds. Be well disposed, then;
attend with unbiased mind, and consider the matter, that you may
determine what hope is left; whether the Plays which he shall in
future compose anew, are to be witnessed, or are rather to be driven
off {the stage}.



  _Enter SIMO and SOSIA, followed by SERVANTS carrying provisions._

SIMO (_to the Servants._) Do you carry those things away in-doors;
begone. (_Beckoning to SOSIA._) Sosia, just step here; I want a few
words with you.

SOSIA. Consider it as said; that these things are to be taken care of,
I suppose.[25]

SIM. No, it’s another matter.

SOS. What is there that my ability can effect for you more than this?

SIM. There’s no need of that ability in the matter which I have in
hand; but of those {qualities} which I have ever known as existing in
you, fidelity and secrecy.

SOS. I await your will.

SIM. Since I purchased you, you know that, from a little child, your
servitude with me has always been easy and light. From a slave I made
you my freedman;[26] for this reason, because you served me with
readiness. The greatest recompense that I possessed, I bestowed upon

SOS. I bear it in mind.

SIM. I am not changed.

SOS. If I have done or am doing aught that is pleasing to you, Simo,
I am glad that it has been done; and that the same has been gratifying
to you, I consider {sufficient} thanks. But this is a cause of
uneasiness to me; for the recital is, as it were, a censure[27] to one
forgetful of a kindness. But tell me, in one word, what it is that you
want with me.

SIM. I’ll do so. In the first place, in this affair I give you notice:
this, which you suppose to be such, is not a real marriage.

SOS. Why do you pretend it then?

SIM. You shall hear all the matter from the beginning; by that means
you’ll be acquainted with both my son’s mode of life and my own
design, and what I want you to do in this affair. For after he had
passed youthfulness,[28] Sosia, and had obtained free scope of living,
(for before, how could you know or understand his disposition, while
_youthful_ age, fear, _and_ a master[29] were checking him?)--

SOS. That’s true.

SIM. What all young men, for the most part, do,-- devote their
attention to some particular pursuit, either to training horses or
dogs for hunting, or to the philosophers;[30] in not one of these did
he engage in particular beyond the rest, and yet in all of them in a
moderate degree. I was pleased.

SOS. Not without reason; for this I deem in life to be especially
advantageous; that {one do} nothing to excess.[31]

SIM. Such was his mode of life; readily to bear and to comply with
all; with whomsoever he was in company, to them to resign himself; to
devote himself to their pursuits; at variance with no one; never
preferring himself to them. Thus most readily you may acquire praise
without envy, and gain friends.

SOS. He has wisely laid down his rule of life; for in these days
obsequiousness begets friends; sincerity, dislike.

SIM. Meanwhile, three years ago,[32] a certain woman from Andros
removed hither into this neighborhood, driven by poverty and the
neglect of her relations, of surpassing beauty and in the bloom of

SOS. Ah! I’m afraid that this Andrian will bring some mischief.

SIM. At first, in a modest way, she passed her life with thriftiness
and in hardship, seeking a livelihood with her wool and loom. But
after an admirer made advances, promising her a recompense, {first}
one and then another; as the disposition of all mankind has a downward
tendency from industry toward pleasure, she accepted their proposals,
{and} then began to trade {upon her beauty}. Those who then were her
admirers, by chance, as it {often} happens, took my son thither that
he might be in their company. Forthwith I {said} to myself, “He is
surely caught; he is smitten.”[33] In the morning I used to observe
their servant-boys coming or going away; I used to make inquiry,
“Here, my lad, tell me, will you, who had Chrysis yesterday?” for that
was the name of the Andrian (_touching SOSIA on the arm_).

SOS. I understand.

SIM. Phædrus, or Clinias, or Niceratus, they used to say; for these
three then loved her at the same time. “Well now, what {did} Pamphilus
{do}?” “What? He gave his contribution;[34] he took part in the
dinner.” Just so on another day I made inquiry, but I discovered
nothing whatever that affected Pamphilus. In fact, I thought him
sufficiently proved, and a great pattern of continence; for he who is
brought into contact with dispositions of that sort, and his feelings
are not aroused even under such circumstances, you may be sure that he
is already capable of undertaking the governance of his own life. This
pleased me, and every body with one voice {began} to say all {kinds
of} flattering things, and to extol my {good} fortune, in having a son
endowed with such a disposition. What need is there of talking?
Chremes, influenced by this report, came to me of his own accord, to
offer his only daughter as a wife to my son, with a very large
portion. It pleased me; I betrothed him; this was the day appointed
for the nuptials.

SOS. What then stands in the way? Why should they not take place?

SIM. You shall hear. In about a few days after these things had been
agreed on, Chrysis, this neighbor, dies.

SOS. Bravo! You’ve made me happy. I was afraid for him on account of

SIM. Then my son was often there, with those who had admired Chrysis;
with them he took charge of the funeral; sorrowful, in the mean time,
he sometimes wept {with them} in condolence. Then that pleased me.
Thus I reflected: “He by reason of this slight intimacy takes her
death so much to heart; what if he himself had wooed her? What will he
do for me his father?” All these things I took to be the duties of a
humane disposition and of tender feelings. Why do I detain you with
many {words}? Even I myself,[35] for his sake, went forth to the
funeral, as yet suspecting no harm.

SOS. Ha! what is this?

SIM. You shall know. She is brought out; we proceed. In the mean time,
among the females who were there present, I saw by chance one young
woman of beauteous form.

SOS. Very likely.

SIM. And of countenance, Sosia, so modest, so charming, that nothing
could surpass. As she appeared to me to lament beyond the rest, and as
she was of a figure handsome and genteel beyond the other women,
I approached the female attendants;[36] I inquired who she was. They
said that she was the sister of Chrysis. It instantly struck my mind:
“Ay, ay, this is it; hence those tears, hence that sympathy.”

SOS. How I dread what you are coming to!

SIM. The funeral procession meanwhile advances; we follow; we come to
the burying-place.[37] She is placed upon the pile; they weep. In the
mean time, this sister, whom I mentioned, approached the flames too
incautiously, with considerable danger. There, at that moment,
Pamphilus, in his extreme alarm, discovers his well-dissembled and
long-hidden passion; he runs up, clasps the damsel by the waist. “My
Glycerium,” says he, “what are you doing? Why are you going to destroy
yourself?” Then she, so that you might easily recognize their habitual
attachment, weeping, threw herself back upon him-- how affectionately!

SOS. What do you say?

SIM. I returned thence in anger, and hurt at heart: and {yet there
was} not sufficient ground for reproving him. He might say; “What have
I done? How have I deserved {this}, or offended, father? She who
wished to throw herself into the flames, I prevented; I saved her.”
The defense is a reasonable one.

SOS. You judge aright; for if you censure him who has assisted to
preserve life, what are you to do to him who causes loss or misfortune
{to it}?

SIM. Chremes comes to me next day, exclaiming: “Disgraceful
conduct!”-- that he had ascertained that Pamphilus was keeping this
foreign woman as a wife. I steadfastly denied that to be the fact. He
insisted that it was the fact. In short, I then left him refusing to
bestow his daughter.

SOS. Did not you then {reprove} your son?

SIM. Not even this was a cause sufficiently strong for censuring him.

SOS. How so? Tell me.

SIM. “You yourself, father,” {he might say}, “have prescribed a limit
to these proceedings. {The time} is near, when I must live according
to the humor of another; meanwhile, for the present allow me to live
according to my own.”

SOS. What room for reproving him, then, is there left?

SIM. If on account of his amour he shall decline to take a wife, that,
in the first place, is an offense on his part to be censured. And now
for this am I using my endeavors, that, by means of the pretended
marriage, there may be real ground for rebuking him, if he should
refuse; at the same time, that if {that} rascal Davus has any scheme,
he may exhaust it now, while {his} knaveries can do no harm: who, I do
believe, with hands, feet, {and} all his might, will do every thing;
and more for this, no doubt, that he may do me an ill turn, than to
oblige my son.

SOS. For what reason?

SIM. Do you ask? Bad heart, bad disposition. Whom, however, if I do
detect-- But what need is there of talking? If it should turn out, as
I wish, that there is no delay on the part of Pamphilus, Chremes
remains to be prevailed upon by me; and I do hope that all will go
well. Now it’s your duty to pretend these nuptials cleverly, to
terrify Davus; and watch my son, what he’s about, what schemes he is
planning with him.

SOS. ’Tis enough; I’ll take care; now let’s go in-doors.

SIM. You go first; I’ll follow. (_SOSIA goes into the house of SIMO._)

SIM. (_to himself._) There’s no doubt but that my son doesn’t wish for
a wife; so alarmed did I perceive Davus to be just now, when he heard
that there was going to be a marriage. But the very man is coming out
of the house. (_Stands aside._)


  _Enter DAVUS from the house of SIMO._

DAV. (_aloud to himself._) I was wondering if this matter was to go
off thus; and was continually dreading where my master’s good humor
would end; for, after he had heard that a wife would not be given to
his son, he never uttered a word to any one of us, or took it amiss.

SIM. (_apart, overhearing him._) But now he’ll do {so}: and that,
I fancy, not without heavy cost to you.

DAV. (_to himself._) He meant this, that we, thus unsuspecting, should
be led away by delusive joy; that now in hope, {all} fear being
removed, we might during our supineness be surprised, so that there
might be no time for planning a rupture of the marriage. How clever!

SIM. (_apart._) The villain! what does he say?

DAV. (_overhearing him, to himself._) It’s my master, and I didn’t see

SIM. Davus.

DAV. Well, what is it?

SIM. Just step this way to me.

DAV. (_to himself._) What does he want?

SIM. What are you saying?

DAV. About what?

SIM. Do you ask the question? There’s a report that my son’s in love.

DAV. The public troubles itself about that,[38] of course.

SIM. Will you attend to this, or not?

DAV. Certainly, I {will}, to that.

SIM. But for me to inquire now into these matters, were the part of a
severe father. For what he has done hitherto, doesn’t concern me at
all. So long as his time {of life} prompted to that course, I allowed
him to indulge his inclination: now this day brings on another mode of
life, demands other habits. From this time forward, I do request, or
if it is reasonable, I do entreat you, Davus, that he may now return
to the {right} path.

DAV. (_aside._) What can this mean?

SIM. All who are intriguing take it ill to have a wife given them.

DAV. So they say.

SIM. And if any one has adopted a bad instructor in that course, he
generally urges the enfeebled mind to pursuits still more unbecoming.

DAV. I’faith, I do not comprehend.

SIM. No? Ha----

DAV. No-- I am Davus, not Œdipus.[39]

SIM. Of course then, you wish me to speak plainly in what further I
have to say.

DAV. Certainly, by all means.

SIM. If I this day find out that you are attempting any trickery about
this marriage, to the end that it may not take place; or are desirous
that in this matter it should be proved how knowing you are; I’ll hand
you over, Davus, beaten with stripes, to the mill,[40] even to your
dying day, upon this condition and pledge, that if {ever} I release
you, I shall grind in your place. Now, do you understand this? Or not
yet even this?

DAV. Yes, perfectly: you have now spoken so plainly upon the subject,
you have not used the least circumlocution.

SIM. In any thing would I more willingly allow myself to be imposed
upon than in this matter.

DAV. Fair words, I entreat.

SIM. You are ridiculing {me}: you don’t at all deceive me. I give you
warning, don’t act rashly, and don’t say you were not warned. Take
care. (_Shaking his stick, goes into the house._)


  _DAVUS alone._

DAV. (_to himself._) Assuredly, Davus, there’s no room for
slothfulness or inactivity, so far as I’ve just now ascertained the
old man’s mind about the marriage; which if it is not provided against
by cunning, will be bringing either myself or my master to ruin. What
to do, I am not determined; whether I should assist Pamphilus or obey
the old man. If I desert the former, I fear for his life; if I assist
him, I {dread} the other’s threats, on whom it will be a difficult
matter to impose. In the first place, he has now found out about this
amour; with hostile feelings he watches me, lest I should be devising
some trickery against the marriage. If he discovers it, I’m undone; or
even {if} he chooses to allege any pretext, whether rightfully or
wrongfully, he will consign me headlong to the mill. To these evils
this one is besides added for me. This Andrian, whether she is {his}
wife, or whether {his} mistress, is pregnant by Pamphilus. It is worth
while to hear their effrontery; for it is an undertaking {worthy} of
those in their dotage, not of those who dote in love;[41] whatever she
shall bring forth, they have resolved to rear;[42] and they are now
contriving among themselves a certain scheme, that she is a citizen of
Attica. There was formerly a certain old man of this place,
a merchant; he was shipwrecked off the Isle of Andros; he died. {They
say} that there, the father of Chrysis, on that occasion, sheltered
this girl, thrown on shore, an orphan, a little child. What nonsense!
To myself at least it isn’t very probable; the fiction pleases them,
however. But Mysis is coming out of the house. Now I’ll {betake}
myself hence to the Forum,[43] that I may meet with Pamphilus, lest
his father should take him by surprise about this matter. (_Exit._


  _Enter MYSIS from the house of GLYCERIUM._

MYS. (_speaking at the door to Archylis within._) I’ve heard you
already, Archylis; you request Lesbia to be fetched. Really, upon my
faith, she is a wine-bibbing[44] and a rash woman, and not
sufficiently trustworthy for you to commit to her care a female at her
first delivery; is she still to be brought? (_She receives an answer
from within, and comes forward._) Do look at the inconsiderateness of
the old woman; because she is her pot-companion. Ye Gods, I do entreat
you, give her ease in her delivery, and to that woman an opportunity
of making her mistakes elsewhere in preference. But why do I see
Pamphilus so out of spirits? I fear what it may be. I’ll wait, that I
may know whether this sorrow portends any disaster. (_Stands apart._)


  _Enter PAMPHILUS, wringing his hands._

PAM. (_to himself._) Is it humane to do or to devise this? Is this the
duty of a father?

MYS. (_apart._) What does this mean?

PAM. (_to himself._) O, by our faith in the Gods! what is, if this is
not, an indignity? He had resolved that he himself would give me a
wife to-day; ought I not to have known this beforehand? Ought it not
to have been mentioned previously?

MYS. (_apart._) Wretched me! What language do I hear?

PAM. (_to himself._) What {does} Chremes {do}? He who had declared
that he would not intrust his daughter to me as a wife; because he
{himself} sees me unchanged he has changed. Thus perversely does he
lend his aid, that he may withdraw wretched me from Glycerium. If this
is effected, I am utterly undone. That any man should be so unhappy in
love, or {so} unfortunate as I am! Oh, faith of Gods and men! shall I
by no device be able to escape {this} alliance with Chremes? In how
many ways {am} I contemned, {and} held in scorn? Every thing done,
{and} concluded! Alas! {once} rejected I am sought again; for what
reason? Unless perhaps it is this, which I suspect it is: they are
rearing some monster,[45] {and} as she can not be pushed off upon any
one {else}, they have recourse to me.

MYS. (_apart._) This language has terrified wretched me with

PAM. (_to himself._) But what am I to say about my father? Alas! that
he should so thoughtlessly conclude an affair of such importance!
Passing me in the Forum just now, he said, “Pamphilus, you must be
married to-day: get ready; be off home.” He seemed to me to say this:
“Be off this instant, and go hang yourself.” I was amazed; think you
that I was able to utter a single word, or any excuse, even a
frivolous, false, {or} lame one? I was speechless. But if any one were
to ask me now what I would have done, if I had known this sooner,
{why}, I would have done any thing rather than do this. But now, what
course shall I first adopt? So many cares beset me, which rend my mind
to pieces; love, sympathy for her, the worry of this marriage; then,
respect for my father, who has ever, until now, with such an indulgent
disposition, allowed me to do whatever was agreeable to my feelings.
Ought I to oppose him? Ah me! I am in uncertainty what to do.

MYS. (_apart._) I’m wretchedly afraid how this uncertainty is to
terminate. But now there’s an absolute necessity, either for him to
speak to her, or for me {to speak} to him about her. While the mind is
in suspense, it is swayed by a slight impulse one way or the other.

PAM. (_overhearing her._) Who is it speaking here? (_Seeing her._)
Mysis? Good-morrow to you.

MYS. Oh! Good-morrow to you, Pamphilus.

PAM. How is she?

MYS. Do you ask? She is oppressed with grief,[46] and on this account
the poor thing is anxious, because some time ago the marriage was
arranged for this day. Then, too, she fears this, that you may forsake

PAM. Ha! could I attempt that? Could I suffer her, poor thing, to be
deceived on my account? She, who has confided to me her affection, and
her entire existence? She, whom I have held especially dear to my
feelings as my wife? Shall I suffer her mind, well and chastely
trained and tutored, to be overcome by poverty and corrupted? I will
not do it.

MYS. I should have no fear if it rested with yourself alone; but
whether you may be able to withstand compulsion--

PAM. Do you deem me so cowardly, so utterly ungrateful, inhuman, {and}
so brutish, that neither intimacy, nor affection, nor shame, can move
or admonish me to keep faith?

MYS. This one thing I know, that she is deserving that you should not
forget her.

PAM. Forget her? Oh Mysis, Mysis, at this moment are those words of
Chrysis concerning Glycerium written on my mind. Now at the point of
death, she called me; I went to her; you had withdrawn; we were alone;
she began: “My dear Pamphilus, you see her beauty and her {youth}; and
it is not unknown to you to what extent both of these are now of use
to her, in protecting both her chastity and her interests. By this
right hand I do entreat you, and by your {good} Genius,[47] by your
own fidelity, and by her bereft condition, do not withdraw yourself
from her, or forsake her; if I have loved you as my own brother, or if
she has always prized you above all others, or has been obedient to
you in all things. You do I give to her as a husband, friend,
protector, father. This property of mine do I intrust to you, and
commit to your care.” She placed her in my hands; that instant, death
came upon her. I accepted her; having accepted, I will protect her.

MYS. So indeed I hope. (_Moving._)

PAM. But why are you leaving her?

MYS. I’m going to fetch the midwife.[48]

PAM. Make all haste. And-- do you hear?-- take care, {and} not one
word about the marriage, lest that too {should add} to her illness.

MYS. I understand. (_Exeunt severally._



  _Enter CHARINUS and BYRRHIA.[49]_

CHAR. How say you, Byrrhia? Is she to be given in marriage to
Pamphilus to-day?

BYR. It is so.

CHAR. How do you know?

BYR. I heard {it} just now from Davus at the Forum.

CHAR. Woe unto wretched me! As, hitherto, until now, my mind has been
racked amid hope and fear; so, since hope has been withdrawn, wearied
with care, it sinks overwhelmed.

BYR. By my troth, Charinus, since that which you wish can not come to
pass, prithee, do wish that which can.

CHAR. I wish for nothing else but Philumena.

BYR. Alas! How much better were it for you to endeavor to expel that
passion from your mind, than to be saying that by which your desire is
to no purpose still more inflamed.

CHAR. We all, when we are well, with ease give good advice to the
sick. If you were in my situation, you would think otherwise.

BYR. Well, well, just as you like.

CHAR. (_looking down the side scene._) But I see Pamphilus; I’m
determined I’ll try every thing before I despair.

BYR. (_aside_) What does he mean?

CHAR. I will entreat his own self; I will supplicate him; I will
disclose to him my love. I think that I shall prevail upon him to put
off the marriage for some days at least; in the mean time, something
will turn up, I trust.

BYR. That something is nothing.

CHAR. Byrrhia, how seems it to you? Shall I accost him?

BYR. Why not? Should you not prevail, that at least he may look upon
you as a gallant {ready} provided for him, if he marries her.

CHAR. Away with you to perdition with that vile suggestion, you


  _Enter PAMPHILUS._

PAM. I espy Charinus. (_Accosting him._) Good-morrow!

CHAR. O, good-morrow. Pamphilus, I’m come to you, seeking hope,
safety, counsel, {and} assistance.

PAM. I’faith, I have neither time for counsel, nor resources for
assistance. But what’s the matter now?

CHAR. To-day you are going to take a wife?

PAM. {So} they say.

CHAR. Pamphilus, if you do that, you behold me this day for the last

PAM. Why so?

CHAR. Ah me! I dread to tell it; prithee, do you tell it, Bvrrhia.

BYR. I’ll tell it.

PAM. What is it?

BYR. He’s in love with your betrothed.

PAM. Assuredly he’s not of my way of thinking. Come now, tell me, have
you had any more {to do} with her, Charinus?

CHAR. Oh Pamphilus, nothing.

PAM. How much I wish {you had}.

CHAR. Now, by our friendship and by my affection, I do beseech you, in
the first place, not to marry her.

PAM. For my own part I’ll use my endeavors.

CHAR. But if that can not be, or if this marriage is agreeable to

PAM. Agreeable to me?

CHAR. Put it off for some days at least, while I go elsewhere, that I
may not be witness.

PAM. Now listen, once for all: I think it, Charinus, to be by no means
the part of an ingenuous man, when he confers nothing, to expect that
it should be considered as an obligation on his part. I am more
desirous to avoid this match, than you to gain it.

CHAR. You have restored me to life.

PAM. Now, if you can do any thing, either you yourself, or Byrrhia
here, manage, fabricate, invent, contrive {some means}, whereby she
may be given to you; this I shall aim at, how she may not be given to

CHAR. I am satisfied.

PAM. Most opportunely I perceive Davus, on whose advice I have

CHAR. (_turning to BYRRHIA._) But you, i’faith, {tell} me nothing,[50]
except those things which there is no need for knowing. (_Pushing him
away._) Get you gone from here.

BYR. Certainly I {will}, and with all my heart. (_Exit._


  _Enter DAVUS in haste._

DAV. (_not seeing PAMPHILUS and CHARINUS._) Ye gracious Gods, what
good news I bring! But where shall I find Pamphilus, that I may remove
the apprehension in which he now is, and fill his mind with joy--?

CHAR. (_apart to PAMPHILUS._) He’s rejoiced about something, I don’t
know what.

PAM. (_apart._) It’s of no consequence; he hasn’t yet heard of these

DAV. (_to himself._) For I do believe now, if he has already heard
that a marriage is prepared for him--

CHAR. (_apart._) Don’t you hear him?

DAV. (_to himself._) He is seeking me distractedly all the city over.
But where shall I look for him? Or in which direction now first to
betake me--

CHAR. (_apart to PAMPHILUS._) Do you hesitate to accost him?

DAV. (_to himself._) I have it. (_Moving on._)

PAM. Davus, come here! Stop!

DAV. Who’s the person that’s-- (_Turning round._) O Pamphilus, you are
the very man I’m looking for. Well done, Charinus! both in the nick of
time: I want you {both}.

CHAR. Davus, I’m undone!

DAV. Nay but, do hear this.

PAM. I’m utterly ruined!

DAV. I know what you are afraid of.

CHAR. I’faith, my life indeed is really in danger.

DAV. (_to CHARINUS._) And what you {are afraid of}, I know.

PAM. My marriage--

DAV. As if I did not know it?

PAM. This day--

DAV. Why keep dinning me {with it}, when I know it all? (_To
PAMPHILUS._) This are you afraid of, lest you should marry her; and
you (_to CHARINUS,_) lest you should not marry her.

CHAR. You understand the matter.

PAM. That’s the very thing.

DAV. And that very thing is in no danger; trust me for that.

PAM. I do entreat you, release wretched me as soon as possible from
this apprehension.

DAV. Well, then, I will release you; Chremes is not going to give you
his daughter at present.

PAM. How do you know?

DAV. You shall know. Your father just now laid hold of me; he said
that a wife was to be given you to-day, and many other things as well,
which just now I haven’t time to relate. Hastening to you immediately,
I ran on to the Forum that I might tell you these things. When I
didn’t find you, I ascended there to a high place.[51] I looked
around; you were nowhere. There by chance I saw Byrrhia, his {servant}
(_pointing to CHARINUS_). I inquired of him; he said he hadn’t seen
you. This puzzled me. I considered what I was to do. As I was
returning in the mean time, a surmise from the circumstances
themselves occurred to me: “How now,-- a very small amount of good
cheer; he out of spirits; a marriage all of a sudden; {these things}
don’t agree.”

PAM. But to what purpose this?

DAV. I forthwith {betook} myself to the house of Chremes. When I
arrived there-- stillness before the door;[52] then I was pleased at

CHAR. You say well.

PAM. Proceed.

DAV. I stopped {there}. In the mean time I saw no one going in, no one
going out; no matron at the house,[53] no preparation, no bustle.
I drew near; looked in--

PAM. I understand; a considerable indication.

DAV. Do these things seem to accord with a wedding?

PAM. I think not, Davus.

DAV. Think, do you say? You don’t view it rightly; the thing is
certain. Besides, coming away from there I saw the servant-boy of
Chremes carrying some vegetables and little fishes, an obol’s
worth,[54] for the old man’s dinner.

CHAR. This day, Davus, have I been delivered by your means.

DAV. And yet not at all.

CHAR. Why so? Surely he will not give her to him, after all this.
(_Pointing to PAMPHILUS._)

DAV. You silly fellow! as though it were a necessary consequence that
if he doesn’t give her to him you should marry her: unless, {indeed},
you look about you; unless you entreat {and} make court to the old
man’s friends.

CHAR. You advise well. I’ll go; although, upon my faith, this hope has
often eluded me already. Farewell! (_Exit._



PAM. What then does my father mean? Why does he {thus} make pretense?

DAV. I’ll tell you. If now he were angry {with you}, because Chremes
will not give you a wife, he would seem to himself to be unjust, and
that not without reason, before he has ascertained your feelings as to
the marriage, how they are disposed. But if you refuse to marry her,
in that case he will transfer the blame to you; then such disturbances
will arise.

PAM. I will submit to any thing {from him}.

DAV. He is your father, Pamphilus. It is a difficult matter. Besides,
this woman is defenseless. No sooner said than done; he will find some
pretext for driving her away from the city.

PAM. Driving her away?

DAV. {Aye}, and quickly too.

PAM. Tell me then, Davus, what am I to do?

DAV. Say that you will marry her.

PAM. (_starting._) Ha!

DAV. What’s the matter?

PAM. What, am I to say so?

DAV. Why not?

PAM. Never will I do it.

DAV. Don’t say so.

PAM. Don’t attempt to persuade me.

DAV. Consider what will be the result of it.

PAM. That I shall be deprived of the one, {and} fixed with the other.

DAV. Not so. In fact, I think it will be thus: Your father will say:
“I wish you to marry a wife to-day.” You reply: “I’ll marry her.” Tell
me, how can he raise a quarrel with you? Thus you will cause all the
plans which are now arranged by him to be disarranged, without any
danger; for this is not to be doubted, that Chremes will not give you
his daughter. Therefore do not hesitate in those measures which you
are taking, on this account, lest he should change his sentiments.
Tell your father that you consent; so that although he may desire it,
he may not be able to be angry at you with reason. For that which you
rely on, I will easily refute; “No one,” {you think}, “will give a
wife to {a person of} these habits.” But he will find a beggar for
you, rather than allow you to be corrupted {by a mistress}. If,
however, he shall believe that you bear it with a contented mind, you
will render him indifferent; at his leisure he will look out for
another {wife for you}; in the mean time something lucky may turn up.

PAM. Do you think so?

DAV. It really is not a matter of doubt.

PAM. Consider to what you are persuading me.

DAV. Nay, but do be quiet.

PAM. Well, I’ll say it; but, that he mayn’t come to know that she has
had a child by me, is a thing to be guarded against; for I have
promised to bring it up.

DAV. Oh, piece of effrontery.

PAM. She entreated me that I would give her this pledge, by which she
might be sure she should not be deserted.

DAV. It shall be attended to; but your father’s coming. Take care that
he doesn’t perceive that you are out of spirits.


  _Enter SIMO, at a distance._

SIM. (_apart to himself._) I’ve come back to see what they are about,
or what scheme they are hatching.

DAV. (_to PAMPHILUS._) He has no doubt at present but that you’ll
refuse to marry. Having considered his course, he’s come from a
retired spot somewhere or other; he hopes that he has framed a speech
by which to disconcert you; do you take care, then, to be yourself.

PAM. If I am only able, Davus.

DAV. Trust me for that, Pamphilus, I tell you; your father will never
this day exchange a single word with you, if you say that you will


  _Enter BYRRHIA, unperceived, at a distance behind SIMO._

BYR. (_apart to himself._) My master has ordered me, leaving my
business, to keep an eye on Pamphilus to-day, what he is doing with
regard to the marriage. I was to learn it; for that reason, I have now
followed him[55] (_pointing to SIMO_) as he came {hither}. Himself, as
well, I see standing with Davus close at hand; I’ll note this.

SIM. (_apart to himself._) I see that both of them are here.

DAV. (_in a low voice to PAMPHILUS._) Now then, be on your guard.

SIM. Pamphilus!

DAV. (_in a low voice._) Look round at him as though taken unawares.

PAM. (_turning round sharply._) What, my father!

DAV. (_in a low voice._) Capital!

SIM. I wish you to marry a wife to-day, as I was saying.

BYR. (_apart._) Now I’m in dread for our side, as to what he will

PAM. Neither in that nor in any thing else shall you ever find any
hesitation in me.

BYR. (_apart._) Hah!

DAV. (_in a low voice to PAMPHILUS._) He is struck dumb.

BYR. (_apart._) What a speech!

SIM. You act as becomes you, when that which I ask I obtain with {a
good} grace.

DAV. (_aside to PAMPHILUS._) Am I right?

BYR. My master, so far as I learn, has missed his wife.

SIM. Now, then, go in-doors, that you mayn’t be causing delay when you
are wanted.

PAM. I’ll go. (_Goes into the house._)

BYR. (_apart._) Is there, in no case, putting trust in any man? That
is a true proverb which is wont to be commonly quoted, that “all had
rather it to be well for themselves than for another.” I remember
noticing, when I saw her, {that she was} a young woman of handsome
figure; wherefore I am the more {disposed to excuse} Pamphilus, if he
has preferred that he himself, rather than the other, should embrace
her in his slumbers. I’ll carry back these tidings, that, in return
for this evil he may inflict evil upon me.[56] (_Exit._


  _SIMO and DAVUS._

DAV. (_aside, coming away from the door of the house._) He now
supposes that I’m bringing some trick to bear against him, and that on
that account I’ve remained here.

SIM. What does he say, Davus?[57]

DAV. Just as much as nothing.[58]

SIM. What, nothing? Eh?

DAV. Nothing at all.

SIM. And yet I certainly was expecting something.

DAV. It has turned out contrary to your expectations. (_Aside._)
I perceive it; this vexes the man.

SIM. Are you able to tell me the truth?

DAV. I? Nothing more easy.

SIM. Is this marriage at all disagreeable to him, on account of his
intimacy with this foreign woman?

DAV. No, faith; or if at all, it is a two or three days’ annoyance
this-- you understand. It will then cease. Moreover, he himself has
thought over this matter in a proper way.

SIM. I commend him.

DAV. While it was allowed him, and while his years prompted him, he
intrigued; {even} then it {was} secretly. He took precaution that that
circumstance should never be a cause of disgrace to him, as behooves a
man of principle; now that he must have a wife, he has set his mind
upon a wife.

SIM. He seemed to me to be somewhat melancholy in a slight degree.

DAV. Not at all on account of her, but there’s something he blames you

SIM. What is it, pray?

DAV. It’s a childish thing.

SIM. What is it?

DAV. Nothing at all.

SIM. Nay but, tell me what it is.

DAV. He says that you are making too sparing preparations.

SIM. What, I?

DAV. You. --He says that there has hardly been fare provided to the
amount of ten drachmæ.[59] --“Does he seem to be bestowing a wife on
his son? Which one now, in preference, of my companions shall I invite
to the dinner?” And, it must be owned, you really {are providing} too
parsimoniously-- I do not commend you.

SIM. Hold your tongue.

DAV. (_aside._) I’ve touched him up.

SIM. I’ll see that these things are properly done. (_DAVUS goes into
the house._) What’s the meaning of this? What does this old rogue
mean? But if there’s any knavery here, why, he’s sure to be the source
of the mischief. (_Goes into his house._)



  _Enter SIMO and DAVUS from the house of the former. MYSIS and LESBIA
  are coming toward the house of GLYCERIUM._

MYS. (_not seeing SIMO and DAVUS._) Upon my faith, the fact is really
as you mentioned, Lesbia, you can hardly find a man constant to a

SIM. (_apart to DAVUS._) This maid-servant comes from the Andrian.

DAV. (_apart to SIMO._) What do you say?

SIM. (_apart to DAVUS._) It is so.

MYS. But this Pamphilas----

SIM. (_apart to DAVUS._) What is she saying?

MYS. Has proved his constancy.

SIM. (_apart._) Hah!

DAV. (_apart to himself._) I wish that either he were deaf, or she
struck dumb.

MYS. For the child she brings forth, he has ordered to be brought up.

SIM. (_apart._) O Jupiter! What do I hear! It’s all over, if indeed
this woman speaks the truth.

LES. You mention a good disposition on the part of the young man.

MYS. A most excellent one. But follow me in-doors, that you mayn’t
keep her waiting.

LES. I’ll follow. (_MYSIS and LESBIA go into GLYCERIUM’S house._)


  _SIMO and DAVUS._

DAV. (_aside._) What remedy now shall I find for this mishap?

SIM. (_to himself aloud._) What does this mean? Is he so infatuated?
{The child} of a foreign woman? Now I understand; ah! scarcely even at
last, in my stupidity, have I found it out.

DAV. (_aside to himself._) What does he say he has found out?

SIM. (_aside._) This piece of knavery is being now for the first time
palmed upon me by this fellow; they are pretending that she’s in
labor, in order that they may alarm Chremes.

GLY. (_exclaiming from within her house._) Juno Lucina,[60] grant me
thine aid, save me, I do entreat thee!

SIM. Whew! so sudden? What nonsense! As soon as she has heard that I’m
standing before the door, she makes all haste. These {incidents},
Davus, have not been quite happily adapted by you as to the points of

DAV. By me?

SIM. Are your scholars forgetful?[61]

DAV. I don’t know what you are talking about.

SIM. (_aside._) If he at the real marriage {of my son} had taken me
off my guard, what sport he would have made of me. Now it is at his
own risk; I’m sailing in harbor.


  _Re-enter LESBIA from the house of GLYCERIUM._

LES. (_speaking to ARCHYLIS at the door, and not seeing SIMO and
DAVUS._) As yet, Archylis, all the customary symptoms which ought to
exist toward recovery, I perceive in her. Now, in the first place,
take care and let her bathe;[62] then, after that, what I ordered to
be given her to drink, and as much as I prescribed, do you administer:
presently I will return hither. (_To herself aloud._) By all that’s
holy, a fine boy has been born to Pamphilus. I pray the Gods that he
may survive, since {the father} himself is of a good disposition, and
since he has hesitated to do an injustice to this most excellent young
woman. (_Exit._


  _SIMO and DAVUS._

SIM. Even this, who is there that knows you that would not believe
that it originated in you?

DAV. Why, what is this?

SIM. She didn’t order in their presence what was requisite to be done
for the woman lying in; but after she has come out, she bawls from the
street to those who are in the house. O Davus, am I thus trifled with
by you? Or pray, do I seem to you so very well suited to be thus
openly imposed upon by your tricks? At all events {it should have
been} with precaution; that at least I might have seemed to be feared
if I should detect it.

DAV. (_aside._) Assuredly, upon my faith, it’s he that’s now
{deceiving} himself, not I.

SIM. I gave you warning, I forbade you with threats to do it. Have you
been awed? What has it availed? Am I to believe you now in this, that
this woman has had a child by Pamphilus?

DAV. (_aside._) I understand where he’s mistaken; and I see what I
must do.

SIM. Why are you silent?

DAV. What would you believe? As though word had not been brought you
that thus it would happen.

SIM. Any {word brought} to me?

DAV. Come now, did you of your own accord perceive that this was

SIM. I am being trifled with.

DAV. Word has been brought you; for {otherwise} how could this
suspicion have occurred to you?

SIM. How? Because I knew you.

DAV. As though you meant to say that this has been done by my

SIM. Why, I’m sure of it, to a certainty.

DAV. Not yet even do you know me sufficiently, Simo, what sort of
person I am.

SIM. I, not {know} you!

DAV. But if I begin to tell {you} any thing, at once you think that
deceit is being practiced upon you in guile; therefore, upon my faith,
I don’t dare now {even} to whisper.

SIM. This one thing I am sure of, that no person has been delivered
here. (_Pointing to GLYCERIUM’S house._)

DAV. You have discovered {that}? Still, not a bit the less will they
presently be laying the child[63] here before the door. Of this, then,
I now warn you, master, that it will happen, that you may be aware of
it. Don’t you hereafter be saying that this was done through the
advice or artifices of Davus. I wish this suspicion of yours to be
entirely removed from myself.

SIM. How do you know that?

DAV. I’ve heard so, and I believe it: many things combine for me to
form this conjecture. In the first place then, she declared that she
was pregnant by Pamphilus; that has been proved to be false.[64] Now,
when she sees that preparations are being made for the wedding at our
house, the maid-servant is directly sent to fetch the midwife to her,
and to bring a child at the same time.[65] Unless it is managed for
you to see the child, the marriage will not be at all impeded.

SIM. What do you say {to this}? When you perceived that they were
adopting this plan, why didn’t you tell Pamphilus immediately?

DAV. Why, who has induced him to leave her, but myself? For, indeed,
we all know how desperately he loved her. Now he wishes for a wife. In
fine, do you intrust me with that affair; proceed however, as before,
to celebrate these nuptials, just as you are doing, and I trust that
the Gods will prosper this matter.

SIM. Very well; be off in-doors; wait for me there, and get ready
what’s necessary to be prepared. (_DAVUS goes into the house._) He
hasn’t prevailed upon me {even} now altogether to believe these
things, and I don’t know whether what he has said is all true; but I
deem it of little moment; this is of far greater importance to me--
that my son himself has promised me. Now I’ll go and find Chremes;
I’ll ask him for a wife for my son; if I obtain my request, at what
other time rather than to-day should I prefer these nuptials taking
place? For as my son has promised, I have no doubt but that if he
should prove unwilling, I can fairly compel him. And look! here’s
Chremes himself, just at the very time.


  _Enter CHREMES._

SIM. I greet you, Chremes.

CHREM. O, you are the very person I was looking for.

SIM. And I for you.

CHREM. You meet me at a welcome moment. Some persons have been to me,
to say that they had heard from you, that my daughter was to be
married to your son to-day; I’ve come to see whether they are out of
their senses or you.

SIM. Listen; in a few words you shall learn both what I want of you,
and what you seek {to know}.

CHREM. I am listening; say what you wish.

SIM. By the Gods, I do entreat you, Chremes, and {by} our friendship,
which, commencing with our infancy, has grown up with our years, and
by your only daughter and by my own son (of preserving whom the entire
power lies with you), that you will assist me in this matter; and
that, just as this marriage was about to be celebrated, it may be

CHREM. O, don’t importune me; as though you needed to obtain this of
me by entreaty. Do you suppose I am different now from what I was
formerly, when I promised her? If it is for the advantage of them both
that it should take place, order her to be sent for. But if from this
course there would result more harm than advantage for each, this I do
beg of you, that you will consult for their common good, as though she
were your own {daughter}, and I the father of Pamphilus.

SIM. Nay, so I intend, and so I wish it to be, Chremes; and I would
not ask it of you, did not the occasion itself require it.

CHREM. What is the matter?

SIM. There is a quarrel between Glycerium and my son.

CHREM. (_ironically_) I hear {you}.

SIM. So much so, that I’m in hopes they may be separated.

CHREM. Nonsense!

SIM. It really is so.

CHREM. After this fashion, i’faith, I tell you, “the quarrels of
lovers {are} the renewal of love.”

SIM. Well-- this I beg of you, that we may prevent it. While an
opportunity offers, and while his passion is cooled by affronts,
before the wiles of these women and their tears, craftily feigned,
bring back his love-sick mind to compassion, let us give him a wife.
I trust, Chremes, that, when attached by intimacy and a respectable
marriage, he will easily extricate himself from these evils.

CHREM. So it appears to you; but I do not think[66] that either he can
possibly hold to her with constancy, or that I can put up with it if
he does not.

SIM. How then can you be sure of that, unless you make the experiment?

CHREM. But for that experiment to be made upon a daughter is a serious

SIM. Why look, all the inconvenience in fine amounts to this--
possibly, which may the Gods forfend, a separation may take place. But
if he is reformed, see how many are the advantages: in the first
place, you will have restored a son to your friend; you will obtain a
sure son-in-law[67] for yourself, and a husband for your daughter.

CHREM. What is {one to say} to all this? If you feel persuaded that
this is beneficial, I don’t wish that any advantage should be denied

SIM. With good reason, Chremes, have I always considered you a most
valuable friend.

CHREM. But how say you----?

SIM. What?

CHREM. How do you know that they are now at variance?

SIM. Davus himself, who is privy to {all} their plans, has told me so;
and he advises me to expedite the match as fast as I can. Do you think
he would do so, unless he was aware that my son desired it? You
yourself as well shall presently hear what he says. (_Goes to the door
of his house and calls._) Halloo there! Call Davus out here. Look,
here he is; I see him just coming out.


  _Enter DAVUS from the house._

DAV. I was coming to you.

SIM. Why, what’s the matter?

DAV. Why isn’t the bride sent for?[68] It’s now growing late in the

SIM. Do you hear me? I’ve been for some time not a little apprehensive
of you, Davus, lest you should do that which the common class of
servants is in the habit of doing, namely, impose upon me by your
artifices; because my son is engaged in an amour.

DAV. What, I do that?

SIM. I fancied {so}; and therefore, fearing that, I concealed from you
what I shall now mention.

DAV. What?

SIM. You shall know; for now I almost feel confidence in you.

DAV. Have you found out at last what sort of a person I am?

SIM. The marriage was not to have taken place.

DAV. How? Not {to have taken place}?

SIM. But I was making pretense, that I might test you {all}.

DAV. (_affecting surprise._) What is it you tell me?

SIM. Such is the fact.

DAV. {Only} see! I was not able to discover that. Dear me! what a
cunning contrivance!

SIM. Listen to this. Just as I ordered you to go from here into the
house, he (_pointing to CHREMES_) most opportunely met me.

DAV. (_aside._) Ha! Are we undone, then?

SIM. I told him what you just now told me.

DAV. (_aside._) Why, what am I to hear?

SIM. I begged him to give his daughter, and with difficulty I
prevailed upon him.

DAV. (_aside._) Utterly ruined!

SIM. (_overhearing him speaking._) Eh-- What was it you said?

DAV. Extremely well done, I say.

SIM. There’s no delay on his part now.

CHREM. I’ll go home at once; I’ll tell her to make due preparation,
and bring back word here. (_Exit._

SIM. Now I do entreat you, Davus, since you by yourself have brought
about this marriage for me----

DAV. I myself, indeed![69]

SIM. Do your best still to reform my son.

DAV. Troth, I’ll do it with all due care.

SIM. Do it now, while his mind is agitated.

DAV. You may be at ease.

SIM. Come then; where is he just now?

DAV. A wonder if he isn’t at home.

SIM. I’ll go to him; and what I’ve been telling you, I’ll tell him as
well. (_Goes into his house._)


  _DAVUS alone._

DAV. (_to himself._) I’m a lost man! What reason is there why I
shouldn’t take my departure straightway hence for the mill? There’s no
room left for supplicating; I’ve upset every thing now; I’ve deceived
my master; I’ve plunged my master’s son into a marriage; I’ve been the
cause of its taking place this very day, without his hoping for it,
and against the wish of Pamphilus. Here’s cleverness {for you}! But,
if I had kept myself quiet, no mischief would have happened.
(_Starting._) But see, I espy him; I’m utterly undone! Would that
there were some spot here for me, from which I might this instant
pitch myself headlong! (_Stands apart._)


  _Enter PAMPHILUS in haste from SIMO’S house._

PAM. Where is he? The villain, who this day-- I’m ruined; and I
confess that this has justly befallen me, for being such a dolt, so
devoid of sense; that I should have intrusted my fortunes to a
frivolous slave![70] I am suffering the reward of my folly; still he
shall never get off from me unpunished for this.

DAV. (_apart._) I’m quite sure that I shall be safe in future, if for
the present I get clear of this mishap.

PAM. But what now am I to say to my father? Am I to deny that I am
ready, who have just promised to marry? With what effrontery could I
presume {to do} that? I know not what to do with myself.

DAV. (_apart._) Nor I with myself, and {yet} I’m giving all due
attention to it. I’ll tell him that I will devise something, in order
that I may procure some respite in this dilemma.

PAM. (_Catching sight of him._) Oho!

DAV. (_apart._) I’m seen.

PAM. (_sneeringly._) How now, good sir, what are you about? Do you see
how dreadfully I am hampered by your devices?

DAV. Still, I’ll soon extricate you.

PAM. You, extricate {me}?

DAV. Assuredly, Pamphilus.

PAM. As you {have} just {done}, I suppose.

DAV. Why no, better, I trust.

PAM. What, am I to believe you, you scoundrel?[71] You, indeed, make
good a matter that’s all embarrassment and ruin! Just see, in whom
I’ve been placing reliance-- you who this day from a most happy state
have been and plunged me into a marriage. Didn’t I say that this would
be the case?

DAV. You did say {so}.

PAM. What do you deserve?[72]

DAV. The cross.[73] But allow me a little time to recover myself; I’ll
soon hit upon something.

PAM. Ah me! not to have the leisure to inflict punishment upon you as
I desire! for the present conjuncture warns me to take precautions for
myself, not to be taking vengeance on you. (_Exeunt._



  _Enter CHARINUS, wringing his hands._

CHAR. (_to himself._) Is this to be believed or spoken of; that malice
so great could be inborn in any one as to exult at misfortunes, and to
derive advantage from the distresses of another! Oh, is this true?
Assuredly, that is the most dangerous class of men, in whom there is
only a slight degree of hesitation at refusing; afterward, when the
time arrives for fulfilling their promises, then, obliged, of
necessity they discover themselves. They are afraid, and yet the
circumstances[74] compel them to refuse. Then, in that case, their
very insolent remark is, “Who are you? What are you to me? What
{should I give up} to you what’s my own? Look you, I am the most
concerned in my own interests.”[75] But if you inquire where is honor,
they are not ashamed.[76] Here, where there is occasion, they are not
afraid; there, where there is no occasion, they are afraid. But what
am I to do? Ought I not to go to him, and reason with him upon this
outrage, and heap many an invective upon {him}? Yet some one may say,
“you will avail nothing.” Nothing? At least I shall have vexed him,
and have given vent to my own feelings.


  _Enter PAMPHILUS and DAVUS._

PAM. Charinus, unintentionally I have ruined both myself and you,
unless the Gods in some way befriend us.

CHAR. Unintentionally, is it! An excuse has been discovered at last.
You have broken your word.

PAM. How so, pray?

CHAR. Do you expect to deceive me a second time by these speeches?

PAM. What does this mean?

CHAR. Since I told you that I loved her, she has become quite pleasing
to you. Ah wretched me! to have judged of your disposition from my

PAM. You are mistaken.

CHAR. Did this pleasure appear to you not to be quite complete, unless
you tantalized me in my passion, and lured me on by groundless hopes?
--You may take her.

PAM. I, take her? Alas! you know not in what perplexities, to my
sorrow, I am involved, and what vast anxieties this executioner of
mine (_pointing to DAVUS_) has contrived for me by his devices.

CHAR. What is it so wonderful, if he takes example from yourself?

PAM. You would not say that if you understood either myself or my

CHAR. I’m quite aware (_ironically_); you have just now had a dispute
with your father, and he is now angry with you in consequence, and has
not been able to-day to prevail upon you to marry her.

PAM. No, not at all,-- as you are not acquainted with my sorrows,
these nuptials were not in preparation for me; and no one was thinking
at present of giving {me} a wife.

CHAR. I am aware; you have been influenced by your own inclination.

PAM. Hold; you do not yet know {all}.

CHAR. For my part, I certainly do know that you are about to marry

PAM. Why are you torturing me to death? Listen to this. He (_pointing
to DAVUS_) never ceased to urge me to tell my father that I would
marry her; to advise and persuade me, even until he compelled me.

CHAR. Who was this person?

PAM. Davus.

CHAR. Davus! For what reason?

PAM. I don’t know; except that I must have been under the displeasure
of the Gods, for me to have listened to him.

CHAR. Is this the fact, Davus?

DAV. It is the fact.

CHAR. (_starting._) Ha! What do you say, {you} villain? Then may the
Gods send you an end worthy of your deeds. Come now, tell me, if all
his enemies had wished him to be plunged into a marriage, what advice
but this could they have given?

DAV. I have been deceived, but I don’t despair.

CHAR. (_ironically._) I’m sure of that.

DAV. This way it has not succeeded; we’ll try another. Unless,
perhaps, you think that because it failed at first, this misfortune
can not now possibly be changed for better luck.

PAM. Certainly not; for I quite believe that if you set about it, you
will be making two marriages for me out of one.

DAV. I owe you this, Pamphilus, in respect of my servitude, to strive
with hands {and} feet, night and day; to submit to hazard of my life,
to serve you. It is your part, if any thing has fallen out contrary to
expectation, to forgive me. What I was contriving has not succeeded;
still, I am using all endeavors; or, do you yourself devise something
better, {and} dismiss me.

PAM. I wish to; restore me to the position in which you found me.

DAV. I’ll do {so}.

PAM. But it must be done directly.

DAV. But the door of Glycerium’s house here makes a noise.[77]

PAM. {That’s} nothing to you.

DAV. (_assuming an attitude of meditation._) I’m in search of--

PAM. (_ironically._) Dear me, what, now at last?

DAV. Presently I’ll give you what I’ve hit upon.


  _Enter MYSIS from the house of GLYCERIUM._

MYS. (_calling at the door to GLYCERIUM within._) Now, wherever he is,
I’ll take care that your own Pamphilus shall be found for you, and
brought to you by me; do you only, my life, cease to vex yourself.

PAM. Mysis.

MYS. (_turning round._) Who is it? Why, Pamphilus, you do present
yourself opportunely to me. My mistress charged me to beg of you, if
you love her, to come to her directly; she says she wishes to see you.

PAM. (_aside._) Alas! I am undone; this dilemma grows apace! (_To
DAVUS._) For me and her, unfortunate persons, now to be tortured this
way through your means; for I am sent for, because she has discovered
that my marriage is in preparation.

CHAR. From which, indeed, how easily a respite could have been
obtained, if he (_pointing to DAVUS_) had kept himself quiet.

DAV. (_ironically to CHARINUS._) Do proceed; if he isn’t sufficiently
angry of his own accord, do you irritate him.

MYS. (_to PAMPHILUS._) Aye faith, that is the case; and for that
reason, poor thing, she is now in distress.

PAM. Mysis, I swear by all the Gods that I will never forsake her; not
if I were to know that all men would be my enemies in consequence. Her
have I chosen for mine; she has fallen to my lot; our feelings are
congenial; farewell they, who wish for a separation between us;
nothing but Death separates her from me.

MYS. I begin to revive.

PAM. Not the responses of Apollo are more true than this. If it can
possibly be contrived that my father may not believe that this
marriage has been broken off through me, I could wish it. But if that
can not be, I will do that which is easily effected, for him to
believe that through me it has been caused. What do you think of me?

CHAR. That you are as unhappy as myself.

DAV. (_placing his finger on his forehead._) I’m contriving an

CHAR. You are a clever hand; if you do set about any thing.

DAV. Assuredly, I’ll manage this for you.

PAM. There’s need of it now.

DAV. But I’ve got it now.

CHAR. What is it?

DAV. For him (_pointing to PAMPHILUS_) I’ve got it, not for you, don’t

CHAR. I’m {quite} satisfied.

PAM. What will you do? Tell me.

DAV. I’m afraid that this day won’t be long enough for me to execute
it, so don’t suppose that I’ve now got leisure for relating it; do you
betake yourself off at once, for you are a hinderance to me.

PAM. I’ll go and see her. (_Goes into the house of GLYCERIUM._)

DAV. (_to CHARINUS._) What {are} you {going to do}? Whither are you
going from here?

CHAR. Do you wish me to tell you the truth?

DAV. No, not at all; (_aside_) he’s making the beginning of a {long}
story for me.

CHAR. What will become of me?

DAV. Come now, you unreasonable person, are you not satisfied that I
give you a little respite, by putting off his marriage?

CHAR. But yet, Davus--

DAV. What then?

CHAR. That I may marry her--

DAV. Absurd.

CHAR. Be sure to come hither (_pointing in the direction of his
house_) to my house, if you can {effect} any thing.

DAV. Why should I come? I can do nothing {for you}.

CHAR. But still, if any thing--

DAV. Well, well, I’ll come.

CHAR. If you can; I shall be at home. (_Exit._


  _MYSIS and DAVUS._

DAV. Do you, Mysis, remain here a little while, until I come out.

MYS. For what reason?

DAV. There’s a necessity for so doing.

MYS. Make haste.

DAV. I’ll be here this moment, I tell you. (_He goes into the house of


  _MYSIS alone._

MYS. (_to herself._) That nothing can be secure to any one! Ye Gods,
by our trust in you! I used to make sure that this Pamphilus was a
supreme blessing for my mistress; a friend, a protector, a husband
secured under every circumstance; yet what anguish is she, poor thing,
now suffering through him? Clearly there’s more trouble {for her} now
than {there was} happiness formerly. But Davus is coming out.


  _Enter DAVUS from the house of GLYCERIUM with the child._

MYS. My {good} sir, prithee, what is that? Whither are you carrying
the child?

DAV. Mysis, I now stand in need of your cunning being brought into
play in this matter, and of your address.

MYS. Why, what are you going to do?

DAV. (_holding out the child._) Take it from me directly, and lay it
down before our door.

MYS. Prithee, on the ground?

DAV. (_pointing._) Take some sacred herbs[78] from the altar here,[79]
and strew them under it.

MYS. Why don’t you do it yourself?

DAV. That if perchance I should have to swear to my master that I did
not place it there, I may be enabled to do so with a clear conscience.

MYS. I understand; have these new scruples only just now occurred to
you, pray?

DAV. Bestir yourself quickly, that you may learn what I’m going to do
next. (_MYSIS lays the child at SIMO’S door._) Oh Jupiter!

MYS. (_starting up._) What’s the matter?

DAV. The father of the {intended} bride is coming in the middle of it
{all}. The plan which I had first purposed I {now} give up.[80]

MYS. I don’t understand what you are talking about.

DAV. I’ll pretend too that I’ve come in this direction from the right.
Do you take care to help out the conversation by your words, whenever
there’s necessity.[81]

MYS. I don’t at all comprehend what you are about; but if there’s any
thing in which you have need of my assistance, as you understand the
best, I’ll stay, that I mayn’t in any way impede your success. (_DAVUS
retires out of sight._)


  _Enter CHREMES on the other side of the stage, going toward the
  house of SIMO._

CHREM. (_to himself._) After having provided the things necessary for
my daughter’s nuptials, I’m returning, that I may request her to be
sent for. (_Seeing the child._) But what’s this? I’faith, it’s a
child. (_Addressing MYSIS._) Woman, have you laid that here (_pointing
to the child_)?

MYS. (_aside, looking out for DAVUS._) Where is he?

CHREM. Don’t you answer me?

MYS. (_looking about, to herself._) He isn’t any where to be seen. Woe
to wretched me! the fellow has left me and is off.

DAV. (_coming forward and pretending not to see them._) Ye Gods, by
our trust in you! what a crowd there is in the Forum! What a lot of
people are squabbling there! (_Aloud._) Then provisions are {so} dear.
(_Aside._) What to say besides, I don’t know. (_CHREMES passes by
MYSIS, and goes to a distance at the back of the stage._)

MYS. Pray, why did you leave me here alone?

DAV. (_pretending to start on seeing the child._) Ha! what story is
this? How now, Mysis, whence comes this child? Who has brought it

MYS. Are you quite right in your senses, to be asking me that?

DAV. Whom, then, ought I to ask, as I don’t see any one else here?

CHREM. (_apart to himself._) I wonder whence it has come.

DAV. Are you going to tell me what I ask?

MYS. Pshaw!

DAV. (_in a whisper._) Step aside to the right. (_They retire on one

MYS. You are out of your senses; didn’t you your own self?

DAV. (_in a low voice._) Take you care not to utter a single word
beyond what I ask you. Why don’t you say aloud whence it comes?

MYS. (_in a loud voice._) From our house.

DAV. (_affecting indignation._) Heyday, indeed! it really is a wonder
if a woman, who is a courtesan, acts impudently.

CHREM. (_apart._) So far as I can learn, this woman belongs to the

DAV. Do we seem to you such very suitable persons for you to be
playing tricks with us in this way?

CHREM. (_apart._) I came {just} in time.

DAV. Make haste then, and take the child away from the door here: (_in
a low voice_) stay {there}; take care you don’t stir from that spot.

MYS. (_aside._) May the Gods confound you! you do so terrify poor me.

DAV. (_in a loud voice._) Is it to you I speak or not?

MYS. What is it you want?

DAV. (_aloud._) What-- do you ask me again? Tell me, whose child have
you been laying here? Let me know.

MYS. Don’t you know?

DAV. (_in a low voice._) Have done with what I know; tell me what I

MYS. (_aloud._) It belongs to your people.

DAV. (_aloud._) Which of our people?

MYS. (_aloud._) To Pamphilus.

DAV. (_affecting surprise in a loud tone._) How? What-- to Pamphilus?

MYS. (_aloud._) How now-- is it not so?

CHREM. (_apart._) With {good} reason have I {always} been averse to
this match, it’s clear.

DAV. (_calling aloud._) O abominable piece of effrontery!

MYS. Why are you bawling out so?

DAV. (_aloud._) What, the very one I saw being carried to your house
yesterday evening?

MYS. O {you} impudent fellow!

DAV. (_aloud._) It’s the truth. I saw Canthara stuffed out beneath her

MYS. I’faith, I thank the Gods that several free women were
present[83] at the delivery.

DAV. (_aloud._) Assuredly she doesn’t know him, on whose account she
resorts to these schemes. Chremes, {she fancies}, if he sees the child
laid before the door, will not give his daughter; i’faith, he’ll give
her all the sooner.

CHREM. (_apart._) I’faith, he’ll not do so.

DAV. (_aloud._) Now therefore, that you may be quite aware, if you
don’t take up the child, I’ll roll it forthwith into the middle of the
road; and yourself in the same place I’ll roll over into the mud.

MYS. Upon my word, man, you are not sober.

DAV. (_aloud._) One scheme brings on another. I now hear it whispered
about that she is a citizen of Attica--

CHREM. (_apart._) Ha!

DAV. (_aloud._) And that, constrained by the laws,[84] he will have to
take her as his wife.

MYS. Well now, pray, is she not a citizen?

CHREM. (_apart._) I had almost fallen unawares into a comical
misfortune. (_Comes forward._)

DAV. Who’s that, speaking? (_Pretending to look about._) O Chremes,
you have come in good time. Do listen to this.

CHREM. I have heard it all already.

DAV. Prithee, did you hear it? Here’s villainy for you! she (_pointing
at MYSIS_) ought to be carried off[85] hence to the torture forthwith.
(_To MYSIS, pointing at CHREMES._) This is Chremes himself; don’t
suppose that you are trifling with Davus {only}.

MYS. Wretched me! upon my faith I have told no untruth, my {worthy}
old gentleman.

CHREM. I know the whole affair. Is Simo within?

DAV. He is. (_CHREMES goes into SIMO’S house._)


  _DAVUS and MYSIS._

MYS. (_DAVUS attempting to caress her._) Don’t touch me, villain.
(_Moving away._) On my word, if I don’t {tell} Glycerium all this....

DAV. How now, simpleton, don’t you know what has been done?

MYS. How should I know?

DAV. This is the bride’s father. It couldn’t any other way have been
managed that he should know the things that we wanted him to know.

MYS. You should have told me that before.

DAV. Do you suppose that it makes little difference whether you do
things according to impulse, as nature prompts, or from premeditation?


  _Enter CRITO, looking about him._

CRITO (_to himself._) It was said that Chrysis used to live in this
street, who preferred to gain wealth here dishonorably to living
honestly {as} a poor woman in her own country: by her death that
property has descended to me by law.[86] But I see some persons of
whom to make inquiry. (_Accosting them._) Good-morrow to you.

MYS. Prithee, whom do I see? Isn’t this Crito, the kinsman of Chrysis?
It is he.

CRI. O Mysis, greetings to you.

MYS. Welcome to you, Crito.

CRI. Is Chrysis then----?[87] Alas!

MYS. Too truly. She has indeed left us poor creatures quite

CRI. How {fare} you here, {and} in what fashion? Pretty well?

MYS. What, we? Just as we can, {as} they say; since we can’t as we

CRI. How {is} Glycerium? Has she discovered her parents yet?

MYS. I wish {she had}.

CRI. What, not yet? With no favorable omen did I set out for this
place; for, upon my faith, if I had known that, I never would have
moved a foot hither. She was always said to be, and was looked upon as
her sister; what things were hers she is in possession of; now for me
to begin a suit at law here, the precedents of others warn me,
a stranger,[88] how easy and profitable a task it would be for me. At
the same time, I suppose that by this she has got some friend and
protector; for she was pretty nearly a grown-up girl when she left
there. They would cry out that I am a sharper; that, a pauper, I’m
hunting after an inheritance; besides, I shouldn’t like to strip {the
girl} herself.

MYS. O most worthy stranger! I’faith, Crito, you still adhere to your
good old-fashioned ways.

CRI. Lead me to her, since I have come hither, that I may see her.

MYS. By all means. (_They go into the house of GLYCERIUM._)

DAV. (_to himself._) I’ll follow them; I don’t wish the old man to see
me at this moment. (_He follows MYSIS and CRITO._)



  _Enter CHREMES and SIMO from the house of SIMO._

CHREM. Enough already, enough, Simo, has my friendship toward you been
proved. Sufficient hazard have I begun to encounter; make an end of
your entreaties, then. While I’ve been endeavoring to oblige you, I’ve
almost fooled away my daughter’s prospects in life.

SIM. Nay but, now in especial, Chremes, I do beg and entreat of you,
that the favor, commenced a short time since in words, you’ll now
complete by deeds.

CHREM. See how unreasonable you are from your {very} earnestness; so
long as you effect what you desire, you neither think of limits to
compliance, nor what {it is} you request of me; for if you did think,
you would now forbear to trouble me with unreasonable requests.

SIM. What unreasonable {requests}?

CHREM. Do you ask? You importuned me to promise my daughter to a young
man engaged in another attachment, averse to the marriage state, to
plunge her into discord and a marriage of uncertain duration; that
through her sorrow and her anguish I might reclaim your son. You
prevailed; while the case admitted of it I made preparations. Now it
does not admit of it; you must put up with it; they say that she is a
citizen of this place; a child has been born; do cease to trouble us.

SIM. By the Gods, I do conjure you not to bring your mind to believe
those whose especial interest it is that he should be as degraded as
possible. On account of the marriage, have all these things been
feigned and contrived. When the reason for which they do these things
is removed from them, they will desist.

CHREM. You are mistaken: I myself saw the servant-maid wrangling with

SIM. (_sneeringly._) I am aware.

CHREM. With an appearance of earnestness, when neither at the moment
perceived that I was present there.

SIM. I believe it; and Davus a short time since forewarned me that
this would be the case; and I don’t know how I forgot to tell it you
to-day, as I had intended.


  _Enter DAVUS from the house of GLYCERIUM._

DAV. (_aloud at the door, not seeing SIMO and CHREMES._) Now then,
I bid you set your minds at ease.

CHREM. (_to SIMO._) See you, there’s Davus.

SIM. From what house is he coming out?

DAV. (_to himself._) Through my means, and that of the stranger----

SIM. (_overhearing._) What mischief is this?

DAV. (_to himself._) I never did see a more opportune person,
encounter, {or} occasion.

SIM. The rascal! I wonder who it is he’s praising?

DAV. All the affair is now in a safe position.

SIM. Why do I delay to accost him?

DAV. (_to himself, catching sight of SIMO._) It’s my master; What am I
to do?

SIM. (_accosting him._) O, save you, good sir!

DAV. (_affecting surprise._) Hah! Simo! O, Chremes, my {dear sir}, all
things are now quite ready in-doors.

SIM. (_ironically._) You have taken such very good care.

DAV. Send for the bride when you like.

SIM. Very good: (_ironically_) of course, that’s the {only} thing
that’s now wanting here. But do you answer me this, what business had
you there? (_Pointing to the house of GLYCERIUM._)

DAV. What, I?

SIM. Just so.


SIM. Yes, you.

DAV. I went in just now.

SIM. As if I asked how long ago!

DAV. Together with your son.

SIM. What, is Phamphilus in there? (_Aside._) To my confusion, I’m on
the rack (_To DAVUS._) How now? Didn’t you say that there was enmity
between them, {you} scoundrel?

DAV. There is.

SIM. Why is he there, then?

CHREM. Why do you suppose he {is}? (_Ironically._) Quarreling with
her, {of course}.

DAV. Nay but, Chremes, I’ll let you now hear from me a disgraceful
piece of business. An old man, I don’t know who he is, has just now
come here; look you, he is a confident {and} shrewd person; when you
look at his appearance, he seems to be a person of some consequence.
There is a grave sternness in his features, and something commanding
in his words.

SIM. What {news} are you bringing, I wonder?

DAV. Why nothing but what I heard him mention.

SIM. What does he say then?

DAV. That he knows Glycerium to be a citizen of Attica.

SIM. (_going to his door._) Ho there! Dromo, Dromo!


  _Enter DROMO hastily from the house._

DRO. What is it?

SIM. Dromo!

DAV. Hear me.

SIM. If you add a word-- Dromo!

DAV. Hear me, pray.

DRO. (_to SIMO._) What do you want?

SIM. (_pointing to DAVUS._) Carry him off on your shoulders in-doors
as fast as possible.

DRO. Whom?

SIM. Davus.

DAV. For what reason?

SIM. Because I choose. (_To DROMO._) Carry him off, I say.

DAV. What have I done?

SIM. Carry him off.

DAV. If you find that I have told a lie in any one matter, {then} kill

SIM. I’ll hear nothing. I’ll soon have you set in motion.[89]

DAV. {What?} Although this is the truth.

SIM. In spite of it. (_To DROMO._) Take care he’s kept well secured;
and, do you hear? Tie him up hands and feet together.[90] Now then, be
off; upon my faith this very day, if I live, I’ll teach you what
hazard there is in deceiving a master, and him {in deceiving} a
father. (_DROMO leads DAVUS into the house._)

CHREM. Oh, don’t be so extremely vexed.

SIM. O Chremes, the dutifulness of a son! Do you not pity me? That I
should endure so much trouble for such a son! (_Goes to the door of
GLYCERIUM’S house._) Come, Pamphilus, come out, Pamphilus! have you
any shame left?


  _Enter PAMPHILUS in haste from GLYCERIUM’S house._

PAM. Who is it that wants me? (_Aside._) I’m undone! it’s my father.

SIM. What say you, of all men, the--?

CHREM. Oh! rather speak about the matter itself, and forbear to use
harsh language.

SIM. As if any thing too severe could now be possibly said against
him. Pray, do you say that Glycerium is a citizen--

PAM. So they say.

SIM. So they say! Unparalleled assurance! does he consider what he
says? Is he sorry for what he has done? Does his countenance, pray, at
all betray any marks of shame? That he should be of mind so weak, as,
without regard to the custom and the law[91] of his fellow-citizens,
and the wish of his own father, to be anxious, in spite of every
thing, to have her, to his own utter disgrace!

PAM. Miserable that I am!

SIM. Ha! have you at last found that out only just now, Pamphilus?
Long since {did} that expression, long since, when you made up your
mind, that what you desired must be effected by you at any price; from
that very day did that {expression} aptly befit you. But yet why do I
torment myself? Why vex myself? Why worry my old age with this
madness? Am I to suffer the punishment for his offenses? Nay then, let
him have her, good-by to him, let him pass his life with her.

PAM. My father----

SIM. How, “my father?” As if you stood in any need of this father.
Home, wife, {and} children, provided {by you} against the will of your
father! People suborned, {too,} to say that she is a citizen of this
place! You have gained your point.

PAM. Father, may I {say} a few words?

SIM. What can you say to me?

CHREM. But, Simo, do hear him.

SIM. I, hear him? Why should I hear him, Chremes?

CHREM. Still, however, do allow him to speak.

SIM. Well then, let him speak: I allow him.

PAM. I own that I love her; if that is committing a fault, I own that
also. To you, father, do I subject myself. Impose on me any injunction
you please; command me. Do you wish me to take a wife? Do you wish me
to give her up? As well as I can, I will endure it. This only I
request of you, not to think that this old gentleman has been suborned
by me. Allow me to clear myself, and to bring him here before you.

SIM. To bring him here?

PAM. Do allow me, father.

CHREM. He asks what’s reasonable; do give him leave.

PAM. Allow me to obtain thus much of you.

SIM. I allow it. I desire any thing, so long as I find, Chremes, that
I have not been deceived by him. (_PAMPHILUS goes into the house of

CHREM. For a great offense, a slight punishment ought to satisfy a


  _Re-enter PAMPHILUS with CRITO._

CRI. (_to PAMPHILUS, as he is coming out._) Forbear entreating. Of
these, any one reason prompts me to do it, either your own sake, or
the fact that it is the truth, or that I wish well for Glycerium

CHREM. (_starting._) Do I see Crito of Andros? Surely it is he.

CRI. Greetings to you, Chremes.

CHREM. How is it that, so contrary to your usage, you are at Athens?

CRI. {So} it has happened. But is this Simo?

CHREM. {It is} he.

CRI. Simo, were you asking for me?

SIM. How now, do you say that Glycerium is a citizen of this place?

CRI. Do you deny it?

SIM. (_ironically._) Have you come here so well prepared?

CRI. For what purpose?

SIM. Do you ask? Are you to be acting this way with impunity? Are you
to be luring young men into snares here, inexperienced in affairs, and
liberally brought up, by tempting them, and to be playing upon their
fancies by making promises?

CRI. Are you in your senses?

SIM. And are you to be patching up amours with Courtesans by marriage?

PAM. (_aside._) I’m undone! I fear that the stranger will not put up
with this.

CHREM. If, Simo, you knew this person well, you would not think thus;
he is a worthy man.

SIM. He, a worthy man! To come so opportunely to-day {just} at the
very nuptials, {and yet} never to have come before? (_Ironically._) Of
course, we must believe him, Chremes.

PAM. (_aside._) If I didn’t dread my father, I have something, which,
in this conjuncture, I could opportunely suggest to him.[92]

SIM. (_sneeringly, to CHREMES._) A sharper![93]

CRI. (_starting._) Hah!

CHREM. It is his way, Crito; do excuse it.

CRI. Let him take heed how he behaves. If he persists in saying to me
what he likes, he’ll be hearing things that he don’t like. Am I
meddling with these matters or interesting myself? Can you not endure
your troubles with a patient mind? For as to what I say, whether it is
true or false what I have heard, can soon be known. A certain man of
Attica, a long time ago,[94] his ship being wrecked, was cast ashore
at Andros, and this woman together with him, who was {then} a little
girl; he, in his destitution, by chance first made application to the
father of Chrysis--

SIM. (_ironically._) He’s beginning his tale.

CHREM. Let him alone.

CRI. Really, is he to be interrupting me in this way?

CHREM. Do you proceed.

CRI. He who received him was a relation of mine. There I heard from
him that he was a native of Attica. He died there.

CHREM. His name?

CRI. The name, in such a hurry!

PAM. Phania.

CHREM. (_starting._) Hah! I shall die!

CRI. I’faith, I really think it was Phania; this I know for certain,
he said that he was a citizen of Rhamnus.[95]

CHREM. O Jupiter!

CRI. Many other persons in Andros have heard the same, Chremes.

CHREM. (_aside._) I trust it may turn out as I hope. (_To CRITO._)
Come now, tell me, what {did} he then {say} about her? Did he say she
was his own {daughter}?

CRI. No.

CHREM. Whose then?

CRI. His brother’s daughter.

CHREM. She certainly is mine.

CRI. What do you say?

SIM. What is this that you say?

PAM. (_aside._) Prick up your ears, Pamphilus.

SIM. Why do you suppose {so}?

CHREM. That Phania was my brother.

SIM. I knew him, and I am aware of it.

CHREM. He, flying from the wars, and following me to Asia, set out
from here. At the same time he was afraid to leave her here behind;
since then, this is the first time I have heard what became of him.

PAM. (_aside._) I am scarcely myself, so much has my mind been
agitated by fear, hope, joy, {and} surprise at this so great, so
unexpected blessing.

SIM. Really, I am glad for many reasons that she has been discovered
to be a citizen.

PAM. I believe it, father.

CHREM. But there yet remains one difficulty[96] with me, which keeps
me in suspense.

PAM. (_aside._) You deserve to be ----, with your scruples, {you}
plague. You are seeking a knot in a bulrush.[97]

CRI. (_to CHREMES._) What is that?

CHREM. The names don’t agree.

CRI. Troth, she had another when little.

CHREM. What {was it}, Crito? Can you remember it?

CRI. I’m trying to recollect it.

PAM. (_aside._) Am I to suffer his memory to stand in the way of my
happiness, when I myself can provide my own remedy in this matter?
I will not suffer it. (_Aloud._) Hark you, Chremes, that which you are
trying to recollect {is} “Pasibula.”

CHREM. The very same.

CRI. That’s it.

PAM. I’ve heard it from herself a thousand times.

SIM. I suppose, Chremes, that you believe that we all rejoice at this

CHREM. So may the Gods bless me, I do believe it.

PAM. What remains {to be done}, father?

SIM. The event itself has quite brought me to reconcilement.

PAM. O kind father! With regard to her as a wife, since I have taken
possession of her, Chremes will not offer any opposition.

CHREM. The plea is a very good one, unless perchance your father says
any thing to the contrary.

PAM. Of course, I agree.

SIM. {Then} be it so.[98]

CHREM. Her portion, Pamphilus, is ten talents.

PAM. I am satisfied.

CHREM. I’ll hasten to my daughter. Come now, (_beckoning_) along with
me, Crito; for I suppose that she will not know me. (_They go into
GLYCERIUM’S house._)

SIM. (_To PAMPHILUS._) Why don’t you order her to be sent for hither,
{to our house}?

PAM. Well thought of; I’ll at once give charge of that to Davus.

SIM. He can’t {do it}.

PAM. How so?

SIM. Because he has another matter that more nearly concerns himself,
and of more importance.

PAM. What, pray?

SIM. He is bound.

PAM. Father, he is not rightly bound.[99]

SIM. But I ordered to that effect.

PAM. Prithee, do order him to be set at liberty.

SIM. Well, be it so.

PAM. But immediately.

SIM. I’m going in.

PAM. O fortunate and happy day! (_SIMO goes into his house._)


  _Enter CHARINUS, at a distance._

CHAR. (_apart to himself._) I’m come to see what Pamphilus is about;
and look, here he is.

PAM. (_to himself._) Some one perhaps might imagine that I don’t
believe this to be true; but now it is clear to me that it really is
true. I do think that the life of the Gods is everlasting, for this
reason, because their joys are their own.[100] For immortality has
been obtained by me, if no sorrow interrupts this delight. But whom in
particular could I wish to be now thrown in my way, for me to relate
these things to?

CHAR. (_apart to himself._) What means this rapture?

PAM. (_to himself._) I see Davus. There is no one in the world whom I
would choose in preference; for I am sure that he of all people will
sincerely rejoice in my happiness.


  _Enter DAVUS._

DAV. (_to himself._) Where is Pamphilus, I wonder?

PAM. Here he is, Davus.

DAV. (_turning round._) Who’s that?

PAM. ’Tis I, Pamphilus; you don’t know what has happened to me.

DAV. No really; but I know what has happened to myself.

PAM. And I too.

DAV. It has fallen out just like human affairs in general, that you
should know the mishap I have met with, before I the good that has
befallen you.

PAM. My Glycerium has discovered her parents.

DAV. O, well done!

CHAR. (_apart, in surprise._) Hah!

PAM. Her father is an intimate friend of ours.

DAV. Who?

PAM. Chremes.

DAV. You do tell good news.

PAM. And there’s no hinderance to my marrying her at once.

CHAR. (_apart._) Is he dreaming the same that he has been wishing for
when awake?

PAM. Then about the child, Davus.

DAV. O, say no more; you are the only person whom the Gods favor.

CHAR. (_apart._) I’m all right if these things are true. I’ll accost
them. (_Comes forward._)

PAM. Who is this? {Why,} Charinus, you meet me at the very nick of

CHAR. That’s all right.

PAM. Have you heard--?

CHAR. Every thing; come, in your good fortune do have some regard for
me. Chremes is now at your command; I’m sure that he’ll do every thing
you wish.

PAM. I’ll remember you; and because it is tedious for us to wait for
him until he comes out, follow me this way; he is now in-doors at the
house of Glycerium; do you, Davus, go home; send with all haste to
remove her thence. Why are you standing {there}? Why are you delaying?

DAV. I’m going. (_PAMPHILUS and CHARINUS go into the house of
GLYCERIUM. DAVUS then comes forward and addresses the Audience._)
Don’t you wait until they come out from there; she will be betrothed
within: if there is any thing else that remains, it will be transacted
in-doors. Grant us your applause.[101]


  [Footnote 1: From σιμὸς, “flat-nosed.”]

  [Footnote 2: From πᾶν, “all,” and φιλὸς, “a friend.”]

  [Footnote 3: From σώζω, “to save;” saved in war.]

  [Footnote 4: From χρέμπτομαι, “to spit.”]

  [Footnote 5: From ξάρις, “grace.”]

  [Footnote 6: From κριτής, “a judge.”]

  [Footnote 7: From Dacia, his native country; the Davi and Daci
  being the same people.]

  [Footnote 8: From δρόμος, “a race.”]

  [Footnote 9: From πυῤῥὸς, “red-haired.”]

  [Footnote 10: From γλυκερὸς, “sweet.”]

  [Footnote 11: From Mysia, her native country.]

  [Footnote 12: From Lesbos, her native country.]

  [Footnote 13: _The Megalensian Games_)--These games were
  instituted at Rome in honor of the Goddess Cybele, when her statue
  was brought thither from Pessinum, in Asia Minor, by Scipio
  Nasica; they were so called from the Greek title Μεγάλη Μήτηρ,
  “the Great Mother.” They were called Megalesia or Megalensia,
  indifferently. A very interesting account of the origin of these
  games will be found in the Fasti of Ovid. B. iv. l. 194, et seq.]

  [Footnote 14: _Being Curule Ædiles_)--Among the other offices of
  the Ædiles at Rome, it was their duty to preside at the public
  games, and to provide the necessary dramatic representations for
  the Theatre, by making contracts with the Poets and Actors.]

  [Footnote 15: _Ambivius Turpio and Lucius Atilius
  Prænestinus_)--These persons were the heads or managers of the
  company of actors who performed the Play, and as such it was their
  province to make the necessary contracts with the Curule Ædiles.
  They were also actors themselves, and usually took the leading
  characters. Ambivius Turpio seems to have been a favorite with the
  Roman public, and to have performed for many years; of L. Atilius
  Prænestinus nothing is known.]

  [Footnote 16: _Freedman of Claudius_)--According to some, the
  words, “Flaccus Claudi” mean “the son of Claudius.” It is,
  however, more generally thought that it is thereby meant that he
  was the freedman or liberated slave of some Roman noble of the
  family of the Claudii.]

  [Footnote 17: _Treble flutes and bass flutes_)--The history of
  ancient music, and especially that relative to the “tibiæ,”
  “pipes” or “flutes,” is replete with obscurity. It is not agreed
  what are the meanings of the respective terms, but in the present
  Translation the following theory has been adopted: The words
  “dextræ” and “sinistræ” denote the kind of flute, the former being
  {treble}, the latter {bass} flutes, or, as they were sometimes
  called, “incentivæ” or “succentivæ;” though it has been thought by
  some that they were so called because the former held with the
  right hand, the latter with the left. When two treble flutes or
  two bass flutes were played upon at the same time, they were
  called “tibiæ pares;” but when one was “dextra” and the other
  “sinistra,” “tibiæ impares.” Hence the words “paribus dextris et
  sinistris,” would mean alternately with treble flutes and bass
  flutes. Two “tibiæ” were often played upon by one performer at the
  same time. For a specimen of a Roman “tibicen” or “piper,” see the
  last scene of the Stichus of Plautus. Some curious information
  relative to the pipers of Rome and the legislative enactments
  respecting them will be found in the Fasti of Ovid, B. vi. l. 653,
  et seq.]

  [Footnote 18: _It is entirety Grecian_)--This means that the scene
  is in Greece, and that it is of the kind called “palliata,” as
  representing the manners of the Greeks, who wore the “pallium,” or
  outer cloak; whereas the Romans wore the “toga.” In the Prologue,
  Terence states that he borrowed it from the Greek of Menander.]

  [Footnote 19: _Being Consuls_)--M. Claudius Marcellus and C.
  Sulpicius Galba were Consuls in the year from the building of Rome
  586, and B.C. 167.]

  [Footnote 20: _A malevolent old Poet_)--Ver. 7. He alludes to
  Luscus Lanuvinus, or Lavinius, a Comic Poet of his time, but
  considerably his senior. He is mentioned by Terence in all his
  Prologues except that to the Hecyra, and seems to have made it the
  business of his life to run down his productions and discover
  faults in them.]

  [Footnote 21: _Composed the Andrian_)--Ver. 9. This Play, like
  that of our author, took its name from the Isle of Andros, one of
  the Cyclades in the Ægean Sea, where Glycerium is supposed to have
  been born. Donatus, the Commentator on Terence, informs us that
  the first Scene of this Play is almost a literal translation from
  the Perinthian of Menander, in which the old man was represented
  as discoursing with his wife just as Simo does here with Sosia. In
  the Andrian of Menander, the old man opened with a soliloquy.]

  [Footnote 22: _And the Perinthian_)--Ver. 9. This Play was so
  called from Perinthus, a town of Thrace, its heroine being a
  native of that place.]

  [Footnote 23: _Nævius, Plautus, and Ennius_)--Ver. 18. Ennius was
  the oldest of these three Poets. Nævius a contemporary of Plautus.
  See a probable allusion to his misfortunes in the Miles Gloriosus
  of Plautus, l. 211.]

  [Footnote 24: _The mystifying carefulness_)--Ver. 21. By “obscuram
  diligentiam” he means that formal degree of precision which is
  productive of obscurity.]

  [Footnote 25: _Are to be taken care of, I suppose_)--Ver. 30.
  “Nempe ut curentur recte hæc.” Colman here remarks; “Madame Dacier
  will have it that Simo here makes use of a kitchen term in the
  word ‘curentur.’ I believe it rather means ‘to take care of’ any
  thing generally; and at the conclusion of this very scene, Sosia
  uses the word again, speaking of things very foreign to cookery,
  ‘Sat est, curabo.’”]

  [Footnote 26: _To be my freedman_)--Ver. 37. “Libertus” was the
  name given to a slave set at liberty by his master. A “libertinus”
  was the son of a “libertus.”]

  [Footnote 27: _As it were a censure_)--Ver. 43. Among the Greeks
  (whose manners and sentiments are supposed to be depicted in this
  Play) it was a maxim that he who did a kindness should forget it,
  while he who received it should keep it in memory. Sosia
  consequently feels uneasy, and considers the remark of his master
  in the light of a reproach.]

  [Footnote 28: _After he had passed from youthfulness_)--Ver. 51.
  “Ephebus” was the name given to a youth when between the ages of
  sixteen and twenty.]

  [Footnote 29: _And a master_)--Ver. 54. See the Notes to the
  Translation of the Bacchides of Plautus, l. 109, where Lydus,
  a slave, appears as the “pædagogus,” or “magister,” of

  [Footnote 30: _Or to the philosophers_)--Ver. 57. It was the
  custom in Greece with all young men of free birth to apply
  themselves to the study of philosophy, of course with zeal
  proportioned to the love of learning in each. They each adopted
  some particular sect, to which they attached themselves. There is
  something sarcastic here, and indeed not very respectful to the
  “philosophers,” in coupling them as objects of attraction with
  horses and hounds.]

  [Footnote 31: _Nothing to excess_)--Ver. 61. “Ne quid nimis.” This
  was one of the three sentences which were inscribed in golden
  letters in the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. The two others were
  “Know thyself,” and “Misery is the consequence of debt and
  discord.” Sosia seems from the short glimpse we have of him to
  have been a retailer of old saws and proverbs. He is unfortunately
  only a Protatic or introductory character, as we lose sight of him
  after this Act.]

  [Footnote 32: _Meanwhile, three years ago_)--Ver. 60. The
  following remark of Donatus on this passage is quoted by Colman
  for its curiosity. “The Author has artfully said three years, when
  he might have given a longer or a shorter period; since it is
  probable that the woman might have lived modestly one year; set up
  the trade the next; and died the third. In the first year,
  therefore, Pamphilus knew nothing of the family of Chrysis; in the
  second, he became acquainted with Glycerium; and in the third,
  Glycerium marries Pamphilus, and finds her parents.”]

  [Footnote 33: _He is smitten_)--Ver. 78. “Habet,” literally “He
  has it.” This was the expression used by the spectators at the
  moment when a Gladiator was wounded by his antagonist. In the
  previous line, in the words “captus est,” a figurative allusion is
  made to the “retiarius,” a Gladiator who was provided with a net,
  with which he endeavored to entangle his opponent.]

  [Footnote 34: _Gave his contribution_)--Ver. 88. “Symbolam.” The
  “symbolæ,” “shot” at picnic or club entertainments, are more than
  once alluded to in the Notes to the Translation of Plautus.]

  [Footnote 35: _Even I myself_)--Ver. 116. Cooke remarks here: “A
  complaisant father, to go to the funeral of a courtesan, merely to
  oblige his son!”]

  [Footnote 36: _The female attendants_)--Ver. 123. “Pedissequæ.”
  These “pedissequæ,” or female attendants, are frequently alluded
  to in the Plays of Plautus. See the Notes to Bohn’s Translation.]

  [Footnote 37: _To the burying-place_)--Ver. 128. “Sepulcrum”
  strictly means, the tomb or place for burial, but here the funeral
  pile itself. When the bones were afterward buried on the spot
  where they were burned, it was called “bustum.”]

  [Footnote 38: _Troubles itself about that_)--Ver. 185. He says
  this contemptuously, as if it was likely that the public should
  take any such great interest in his son as the father would imply
  by his remark. By thus saying, he also avoids giving a direct

  [Footnote 39: _Davus, not Œdipus_)--Ver. 194. Alluding to the
  circumstance of Œdipus alone being able to solve the riddle of the

  [Footnote 40: _To the mill_)--Ver. 199. The “pistrinum,” or
  “hand-mill,” for grinding corn, was used as a mode of punishment
  for refractory slaves. See the Notes to the Translation of

  [Footnote 41: _Those in their dotage, not those who dote in
  love_)--Ver. 218. There is a jingle intended in this line, in the
  resemblance between “amentium,” “mad persons,” and “amantium,”

  [Footnote 42: _They have resolved to rear_)--Ver. 219. This
  passage alludes to the custom among the Greeks of laying new-born
  children on the ground, upon which the father, or other person who
  undertook the care of the child, lifted it from the ground,
  “tollebat.” In case no one took charge of the child, it was
  exposed, which was very frequently done in the case of female
  children. Plato was the first to inveigh against this barbarous
  practice. It is frequently alluded to in the Plays of Plautus.]

  [Footnote 43: _Hence to the Forum_)--Ver. 226. Colman has the
  following remark: “The Forum is frequently spoken of in the Comic
  Authors; and from various passages in which Terence mentions it,
  it may be collected that it was a public place, serving the
  several purposes of a market, the seat of the courts of justice,
  a public walk, and an exchange.”]

  [Footnote 44: _Wine-bibbing_)--Ver. 229. The nurses and midwives
  of antiquity seem to have been famed for their tippling
  propensities. In some of the Plays of Plautus we do not find them

  [Footnote 45: _Rearing some monster_)--Ver. 250. “Aliquid monstri
  alunt.” Madame Dacier and some other Commentators give these words
  the rather far-fetched meaning of “They are hatching some plot.”
  Donatus, with much more probability, supposes him to refer to the
  daughter of Chremes, whom, as the young women among the Greeks
  were brought up in great seclusion, we may suppose Pamphilus never
  to have seen.]

  [Footnote 46: _She is oppressed with grief_)--Ver. 268. “Laborat a
  dolore.” Colman has the following remark upon this passage:
  “Though the word ‘laborat’ has tempted Donatus and the rest of the
  Commentators to suppose that this sentence signifies Glycerium
  being in labor, I can not help concurring with Cooke, that it
  means simply that she is weighed down with grief. The words
  immediately subsequent corroborate this interpretation; and at the
  conclusion of the Scene, when Mysis tells him that she is going
  for a midwife, Pamphilus hurries her away, as he would naturally
  have done here had he understood by these words that her mistress
  was in labor.”]

  [Footnote 47: _By your good Genius_)--Ver. 289. “Per Genium tuum.”
  This was a common expression with the Romans, and is used by
  Horace, Epistles, B. i., Ep. 7:--

    “Quod te per Genium dextramque Deosque Penates,
    Obsecro, et obtestor--”

  The word “Genius” signified the tutelary God who was supposed to
  attend every person from the period of his birth. The
  signification of the word will be found further referred to in the
  Notes to the Translation of Plautus.]

  [Footnote 48: _To fetch the midwife_)--Ver. 299. Cooke has the
  following remark here: “Methinks Mysis has loitered a little too
  much, considering the business which she was sent about; but
  perhaps Terence knew that some women were of such a temper as to
  gossip on the way, though an affair of life or death requires
  their haste.” Colman thus takes him to task for this observation:
  “This two-edged reflection, glancing at once on Terence and the
  ladies, is, I think, very ill-founded. The delay of Mysis, on
  seeing the emotion of Pamphilus, is very natural; and her artful
  endeavors to interest Pamphilus on behalf of her mistress, are
  rather marks of her attention than neglect.”]

  [Footnote 49: _Charinus and Byrrhia_). We learn from Donatus that
  the characters of Charinus and Byrrhia were not introduced in the
  work of Menander, but were added to the Play of Terence, lest
  Philumena’s being left without a husband, on the marriage of
  Pamphilus to Glycerium, should appear too tragical a circumstance.
  Diderot is of opinion that Terence did not improve his Play by
  this addition.]

  [Footnote 50: _Tell me nothing_)--Ver. 336. It has been suggested
  that this refers to Byrrhia’s dissuading his master from
  addressing Pamphilus, or else to what he has told him concerning
  the intended marriage. Westerhovius thinks that Byrrhia is just
  then whispering some trifling nonsense in his master’s ear, which
  he, occupied with more important cares, is unwilling to attend

  [Footnote 51: _To a high place_)--Ver. 356. He probably alludes to
  some part of the Acropolis, the citadel, or higher part of Athens,
  which commanded a view of the lower town.]

  [Footnote 52: _Stillness before the door_)--Ver. 362. Madame
  Dacier observes that this remark is very appropriately made by
  Davus, as showing that the marriage was clearly not intended by
  Chremes. The house of the bride on such an occasion would be
  thronged by her friends, and at the door would be the musicians
  and those who were to form part of the bridal procession.]

  [Footnote 53: _No matron at the house_)--Ver. 364. By the use of
  the word “matrona,” he probably alludes to the “pronubæ” among the
  Romans, whose duties were somewhat similar to those of our
  bride’s-maids. At the completion of the bridal repast, the bride
  was conducted to the bridal chamber by matrons who had not had
  more than one husband.]

  [Footnote 54: _An obol’s worth_)--Ver. 369. The “obelus” was the
  smallest Greek silver coin, and was equal in value to about three
  halfpence of our money. “Pisciculi minuti,” “little fish,” were
  much used for food among the poorer classes; “mena,” a fish
  resembling our pilchard, was a common article of food with the
  Romans. The larger kinds of fish went under the general name of

  [Footnote 55: _I have now followed him_)--Ver. 414. “Hunc
  venientem sequor.” Cooke has the following remark on this line:
  “This verse, though in every edition, as Bentley judiciously
  observes, is certainly spurious; for as Pamphilus has not
  disappeared since Byrrhia left the stage, he could not say ‘nunc
  {hunc} venientem sequor.’ If we suppose the line genuine, we must
  at the same time suppose Terence guilty of a monstrous absurdity.”
  On these words Colman makes the following just observations:
  “Other Commentators have also stumbled at this passage; but if in
  the words ‘followed {him} hither,’ we suppose {‘him’} (hunc) to
  refer to Simo, the difficulty is removed; and that the pronoun
  really does signify Simo, is evident from the circumstance of
  Pamphilus never having left the stage since the disappearance of
  Byrrhia. Simo is also represented as coming on the stage homeward,
  so that Byrrhia might easily have followed him along the street;
  and it is evident that Byrrhia does not allude to Pamphilus from
  the agreeable surprise which he expresses on seeing him there so
  opportunely for the purpose.”]

  [Footnote 56: _Inflict evil upon me_)--Ver. 431. “Malum;” the
  usual name by which slaves spoke of the beatings they were in the
  habit of receiving at the hands or by the order of their irascible
  masters. Colman has the following remarks: “Donatus observes on
  this Scene between Byrrhia, Simo, Pamphilus, and Davus, that the
  dialogue is sustained by four persons, who have little or no
  intercourse with each other; so that the Scene is not only in
  direct contradiction to the precept of Horace, excluding a fourth
  person, but is also otherwise vicious in its construction. Scenes
  of this kind are, I think, much too frequent in Terence, though,
  indeed, the form of the ancient Theatre was more adapted to the
  representation of them than the modern. The multiplicity of
  speeches {aside} is also the chief error in this dialogue; such
  speeches, though very common in dramatic writers, ancient and
  modern, being always more or less unnatural.”]

  [Footnote 57: _What does he say, Davus?_)--Ver. 434. “Quid, Dave,
  narrat?” This reading Vollbehr suggests in place of the old one,
  “Quid Davus narrat?” and upon good grounds, as it appears.
  According to the latter reading we are to suppose that Davus is
  grumbling to himself, on which Simo says, “What does Davus say?”
  It seems, however, much more likely that Davus accompanies
  Pamphilus to the door, and speaks to him before he goes in, and
  then, on his return to Simo, the latter asks him, “What does he
  say, Davus?”]

  [Footnote 58: _Just as much as nothing_)--Ver. 434. “Æque quidquam
  nunc quidem.” This is a circumlocution for “nothing at all:”
  somewhat more literally perhaps, it might be rendered “just as
  much as before.” Perizonius supplies the ellipsis with a long
  string of Latin words, which translated would mean, “Now, indeed,
  he says equally as much as he says then, when he says nothing at

  [Footnote 59: _Amount of ten drachmæ_)--Ver. 451. The Attic
  drachma was a silver coin worth in value about 9¾_d._ of English

  [Footnote 60: _Juno Lucina_)--Ver. 473. Juno Lucina had the care
  of women in childbed. Under this name some suppose Diana to have
  been worshiped. A similar incident to the present is found in the
  Adelphi, l. 486; and in the Aulularia of Plautus, l. 646.]

  [Footnote 61: _Are your scholars forgetful?_)--Ver. 477. He
  alludes under this term to Mysis, Lesbia, and Pamphilus, whom he
  supposes Davus to have been training to act their parts in the
  plot against him.]

  [Footnote 62: _Let her bathe_)--Ver. 483. It was the custom for
  women to bathe immediately after childbirth. See the Amphitryon of
  Plautus, l. 669, and the Note to the passage in Bohn’s

  [Footnote 63: _Be laying the child_)--Ver. 507. Colman has the
  following remark on this line:-- “The art of this passage is equal
  to the pleasantry, for though Davus runs into this detail merely
  with a view to dupe the old man still further by flattering him on
  his fancied sagacity, yet it very naturally prepares us for an
  incident which, by another turn of circumstances, afterward
  becomes necessary.”]

  [Footnote 64: _Proved to be false_)--Ver. 513. That is, according
  to Simo’s own notion, which Davus now thinks proper to humor.]

  [Footnote 65: _To Bring a child at the same time_)--Ver. 515. This
  is a piece of roguery which has probably been practiced in all
  ages, and was somewhat commonly perpetrated in Greece. The reader
  of English history will remember how the unfortunate son of James
  II was said, in the face of the strongest evidence to the
  contrary, to have been a supposititious child brought into the
  queen’s chamber in a silver warming-pan.]

  [Footnote 66: _But I do not think_)--Ver. 563-4. “At ego non posse
  arbitror neque illum hane perpetuo habere.” Chremes uses an
  ambiguous expression here, perhaps purposely. It may mean, “I do
  not think that he can possibly be constant to her,” or, “that she
  will continue to live with him.”]

  [Footnote 67: _A sure son-in-law_)--Ver. 571. By the use of the
  word “firmum,” he means a son-in-law who will not be likely to
  resort to divorce or separation from his wife.]

  [Footnote 68: _Why isn’t the bride sent for?_)--Ver. 582. Among
  the Greeks the bride was conducted by the bridegroom at nightfall
  from her father’s house, in a chariot drawn by a pair of mules or
  oxen, and escorted by persons carrying the nuptial torches. Among
  the Romans she proceeded in the evening to the bridegroom’s house;
  preceded by a boy carrying a torch of white thorn, or, according
  to some, of pine-wood. To this custom reference is indirectly made
  in the present passage.]

  [Footnote 69: _I myself, indeed!_)--Ver. 597. No doubt Davus says
  these words in sorrow and regret; Simo, however, supposes them to
  be uttered in exultation at the apparent success of his plans.
  Consequently “vero” is intended by Davus to have the sense here of
  “too truly.”]

  [Footnote 70: _To a frivolous slave_)--Ver. 610. “Servo futili.”
  According to the Scholiast on the Thebais of Statius, B. viii.
  l. 297, “vas futile” was a kind of vessel with a broad mouth and
  narrow bottom, used in the rites of Vesta. It was made of that
  peculiar shape in order that the priest should be obliged to hold
  it during the sacrifices, and might not set it on the ground,
  which was considered profane; as, if set there, the contents must
  necessarily fall out. From this circumstance, men who could not
  {contain} a secret were sometimes called “futiles.”]

  [Footnote 71: _You scoundrel_)--Ver. 619. “Furcifer;” literally,
  wearer of the “furca,” or wooden collar. This method of punishment
  has been referred to in the Notes to the Translation of Plautus.]

  [Footnote 72: _What do you deserve?_)--Ver. 622. Madame Dacier
  remarks that this question is taken from the custom of the
  Athenians, who never condemned a criminal without first asking him
  what punishment he thought he deserved; and according to the
  nature of his answer they mitigated or increased his punishment.
  Tho Commentators quote a similar passage from the Frogs of

  [Footnote 73: _The cross_)--Ver. 622. The “cross,” “crux,” as a
  punishment for refractory slaves has been remarked upon in the
  Notes to the Translation of Plautus.]

  [Footnote 74: _The circumstances_)--Ver. 635. “Res.” According,
  however, to Donatus, this word has the meaning here of “malice” or

  [Footnote 75: _Concerned in my own interests_)--Ver. 637.
  Equivalent to our sayings, “Charity begins at home;” “Take care of
  number one.”]

  [Footnote 76: _They are not ashamed_)--Ver. 638. Terence has
  probably borrowed this remark from the Epidicus of Plautus,
  l. 165-6: “Generally all men are ashamed when it is of no use; when
  they ought to be ashamed, then does shame forsake them, when
  occasion is for them to be ashamed.”]

  [Footnote 77: _Makes a noise_)--Ver. 683. The doors with the
  Romans opened inwardly, while those of the Greeks opened on the
  outside. It was therefore usual with them, when coming out, to
  strike the door on the inside with a stick or with the knuckles,
  that those outside might be warned to get out of the way. Patrick,
  however, observes with some justice, that the word “concrepuit”
  may here allude to the creaking of the hinges. See the Curculio of
  Plautus, l. 160, where the Procuress pours water on the hinges, in
  order that Cappadox may not hear the opening of the door.]

  [Footnote 78: _Take some sacred herbs_)--Ver. 727. “Verbena”
  appears to have been a general term applied to any kind of herb
  used in honor of the Deities, or to the boughs and leaves of any
  tree gathered from a pure or sacred place. Fresh “verbenæ” were
  placed upon the altars every day. See the Mercator of Plautus,
  l. 672.]

  [Footnote 79: _From the altar here_)--Ver. 727. It was usual to
  have altars on the stage; when Comedy was performed, one on the
  left hand in honor of Apollo, and on the representation of
  Tragedy, one on the right in honor of Bacchus. It has been
  suggested that Terence here alludes to the former of these. As,
  however, at Athens almost every house had its own altar in honor
  of Apollo Prostaterius just outside of the street door, it is most
  probable that to one of these altars reference is here made. They
  are frequently alluded to in the Plays of Plautus.]

  [Footnote 80: _Which I had first purposed, I now give up_)--Ver.
  734. His first intention no doubt was to go and inform Simo of the
  child being laid at the door.]

  [Footnote 81: _Whenever there’s necessity_)--Ver. 737. He retires
  without fully explaining his intention to Mysis; consequently, in
  the next Scene she gives an answer to Chremes which Davus does not

  [Footnote 82: _Stuffed out beneath her clothes_)--Ver. 771.
  “Suffarcinatam.” He alludes to the trick already referred to as
  common among the Greeks, of the nurses and midwives secretly
  introducing supposititious children; see l. 515 and the Note.]

  [Footnote 83: _Several free women were present_)--Ver. 772. She
  speaks of “liberæ,” “free women,” because in Greece as well as
  Italy slaves were not permitted to give evidence. See the Curculio
  of Plautus, l. 621, and the Note to the passage in Bohn’s
  Translation. See also the remark of Geta in the Phormio, l. 293.]

  [Footnote 84: _Constrained by the laws_)--Ver. 782. He alludes to
  a law at Athens which compelled a man who had debauched a
  free-born woman to marry her. This is said by Davus with the view
  of frightening Chremes from the match.]

  [Footnote 85: _She ought to be carried off_)--Ver. 787. He says
  this implying that Mysis, who is a slave, ought to be put to the
  torture to confess the truth; as it was the usual method at Athens
  to force a confession from slaves by that method. We find in the
  Hecyra, Bacchis readily offering her slaves to be put to the
  torture, and in the Adelphi the same custom is alluded to in the
  scene between Micio, Hegio, and Geta.]

  [Footnote 86: _Descended to me by law_)--Ver. 800. On the
  supposition that Chrysis died without a will, Crito as her next of
  kin would be entitled to her effects.]

  [Footnote 87: _ Is Chrysis then----?_)--Ver. 804. This is an
  instance of Aposiopesis; Crito, much affected, is unwilling to
  name the death of Chrysis. It was deemed of ill omen to mention
  death, and numerous Euphemisms or circumlocutions were employed in
  order to avoid the necessity of doing so.]

  [Footnote 88: _Warn me, a stranger_)--Ver. 812. Patrick has the
  following remarks upon this passage: “Madame Dacier observes that
  it appears, from Xenophon’s Treatise on the policy of the
  Athenians, that all the inhabitants of cities and islands in
  alliance with Athens were obliged in all claims to repair thither,
  and refer their cause to the decision of the people, not being
  permitted to plead elsewhere. We can not wonder then that Crito is
  unwilling to engage in a suit so inconvenient from its length,
  expense, and little prospect of success.” She might have added
  that such was the partiality and corruptness of the Athenian
  people, that, being a stranger, his chances of success would
  probably be materially diminished.]

  [Footnote 89: _You set in motion_)--Ver. 865. By the use of the
  word “Commotus” he seems to allude to the wretched, restless
  existence of a man tied hand and foot, and continually working at
  the hand-mill. Westerhovius thinks that Simo uses this word
  sarcastically, in allusion to the words of Davus, at the beginning
  of the present Scene, “Animo otioso esse impero;” “I bid you set
  your minds at ease.”]

  [Footnote 90: _Hands and feet together_)--Ver. 866. “Quadrupedem.”
  Literally “as a quadruped” or “all fours.” Echard remarks that it
  was the custom of the Athenians to tie criminals hands and feet
  together, just like calves.]

  [Footnote 91: _ Without regard to the custom and the law_)--Ver.
  880. There was a law among the Athenians which forbade citizens to
  marry strangers, and made the offspring of such alliances
  illegitimate; the same law also excluded such as were not born of
  two citizens from all offices of trust and honor.]

  [Footnote 92: _Could opportunely suggest to him_)--Ver. 919.
  Colman has the following remark on this line: “Madame Dacier and
  several English Translators make Pamphilus say that he could give
  Crito a hint or two. What hints he could propose to suggest to
  Crito, I can not conceive. The Italian translation, printed with
  the Vatican Terence, seems to understand the words in the same
  manner that I have translated them, in which sense (the pronoun
  ‘illum’ referring to Simo instead of Crito) they seem to be the
  most natural words of Pamphilus on occasion of his father’s anger
  and the speech immediately preceding.”]

  [Footnote 93: _A sharper_)--Ver. 920. “Sycophanta.” For some
  account of the “sycophantæ,” “swindlers” or “sharpers” of ancient
  times, see the Notes to the Trinummus of Plautus, Bohn’s

  [Footnote 94: _A long time ago_)--Ver. 924. The story begins with
  “Olim,” just in the same way that with us nursery tales commence
  with “There was, a long time ago.”]

  [Footnote 95: _A citizen of Rhamnus_)--Ver. 931. Rhamnus was a
  maritime town of Attica, near which many of the more wealthy
  Athenians had country-seats. It was famous for the Temple of
  Nemesis there, the Goddess of Vengeance, who was thence called
  “Rhamnusia.” In this Temple was her statue, carved by Phidias out
  of the marble which the Persians brought to Greece for the purpose
  of making a statue of Victory out of it, and which was thus
  appropriately devoted to the Goddess of Retribution. The statue
  wore a crown, and had wings, and, holding a spear of ash in the
  right hand, it was seated on a stag.]

  [Footnote 96: _One difficulty_)--Ver. 941. “Scrupus,” or
  “scrupulus,” was properly a stone or small piece of gravel which,
  getting into the shoe, hurt the foot; hence the word figuratively
  came to mean a “scruple,” “difficulty,” or “doubt.” We have a
  similar expression: “to be graveled.”]

  [Footnote 97: _A knot in a bulrush_)--Ver. 942. “Nodum in scirpo
  quærere” was a proverbial expression implying a desire to create
  doubts and difficulties where there really were none; there being
  no knots in the bulrush. The same expression occurs in the
  Menæchmi of Plautus, l. 247.]

  [Footnote 98: _Of course----Then be it so_)--Ver. 951. “Nempe id.
  Scilicet.” Colman has the following remark on this line: “Donatus,
  and some others after him, understand these words of Simo and
  Pamphilus as requiring a fortune of Chremes with his daughter; and
  one of them says that Simo, in order to explain his meaning, in
  the representation, should produce a bag of money. This surely is
  precious refinement, worthy the genius of a true Commentator.
  Madame Dacier, who entertains a just veneration for Donatus,
  doubts the authenticity of the observation ascribed to him. The
  sense I have followed is, I think, the most obvious and natural
  interpretation of the words of Pamphilus and Simo, which refers to
  the preceding, not the subsequent, speech of Chremes.”]

  [Footnote 99: _He is not rightly bound_)--Ver. 956. “Non recte
  vinctus;” meaning “it was not well done to bind him.” The father
  pretends to understand him as meaning (which he might equally well
  by using the same words), “non satis stricte,” “he wasn’t tightly
  enough” bound; and answers “I ordered that he should be,”
  referring to his order for Davus to be bound hand and foot.
  Donatus justly observes that the disposition of the old gentleman
  to joke is a characteristic mark of his thorough reconciliation.]

  [Footnote 100: _Their joys are their own_)--Ver. 961. Westorhovius
  remarks that he seems here to be promulgating the doctrine of
  Epicurus, who taught that the Deities devoted themselves entirely
  to pleasure and did not trouble themselves about mortals. Donatas
  observes that these are the doctrines of Epicurus and that the
  whole sentence is copied from the Eunuch of Menander; to which
  practice of borrowing from various Plays, allusion is made in the
  Prologue, where he mentions the mixing of plays; “contaminari

  [Footnote 101: _Grant us your applause_)--Ver. 982. “Plaudite.”
  Colman has the following remark at the conclusion of this Play:
  “All the old Tragedies and Comedies acted at Rome concluded in
  this manner. ‘Donec cantor vos “Plaudite” dicat,’ says Horace. Who
  the ‘cantor’ was, is a matter of dispute. Madame Dacier thinks it
  was the whole chorus; others suppose it to have been a single
  actor; some the prompter, and some the composer. Before the word
  ‘Plaudite’ in all the old copies is an Ω which has also given rise
  to several learned conjectures. It is most probable, according to
  the notion of Madame Dacier, that this Ω, being the last letter of
  the Greek alphabet, was nothing more than the mark of the
  transcriber to signify the end, like the Latin word ‘Finis’ in
  modern books; or it might, as Patrick supposes, stand for Ωδος,
  ‘cantor,’ denoting that the following word ‘Plaudite’ was spoken
  by him. After ‘Plaudite’ in all the old copies of Terence stand
  these two words, ‘Calliopius recensui;’ which signify,
  ‘I, Calliopius, have revised and corrected this piece.’ And this
  proceeds from the custom of the old critics, who carefully revised
  all Manuscripts, and when they had read and corrected any work,
  certified the same by placing their names at the end of it.”]

       *       *       *       *       *
           *       *       *       *



  LACHES,[1] an aged Athenian.
  PHÆDRIA,[2]  } his sons.
  CHÆREA,[3]   }
  ANTIPHO,[4] a young man, friend of Chærea.
  CHREMES,[5] a young man, brother of Pamphila.
  THRASO,[6] a boastful Captain.
  GNATHO,[7] a Parasite.
  PARMENO,[8] servant of Phædria.
  SANGA,[9] cook to Thraso.
  DONAX,[10]    }
  SIMALIO,[11]  } servants of Thraso.
  SYRISCUS,[12] }
  DORUS,[15] a Eunuch slave.
  THAIS,[13] a Courtesan.
  PYTHIAS,[14] } her attendants.
  DORIAS,[15]  }
  SOPHRONA,[16] a nurse.
  PAMPHILA,[17] a female slave.

_Scene._--Athens; before the houses of LACHES and THAIS.


A certain citizen of Athens had a daughter named Pamphila, and a son
called Chremes. The former was stolen while an infant, and sold to a
Rhodian merchant, who having made a present of her to a Courtesan of
Rhodes, she brought her up with her own daughter Thais, who was
somewhat older. In the course of years, Thais following her mother’s
way of life, removes to Athens. Her mother dying, her property is put
up for sale, and Pamphila is purchased as a slave by Thraso, an
officer and an admirer of Thais, who happens just then to be visiting
Rhodes. During the absence of Thraso, Thais becomes acquainted with
Phædria, an Athenian youth, the son of Laches; she also discovers from
Chremes, who lives near Athens, that Pamphila, her former companion,
is his sister. Thraso returns, intending to present to her the girl he
has bought, but determines not to do so until she has discarded
Phædria. Finding that the girl is no other than Pamphila, Thais is at
a loss what to do, as she both loves Phædria, and is extremely anxious
to recover Pamphila. At length, to please the Captain, she excludes
Phædria, but next day sends for him, and explains to him her reasons,
at the same time begging of him to allow Thraso the sole right of
admission to her house for the next two days, and assuring him that as
soon as she shall have gained possession of the girl, she will
entirely throw him off. Phædria consents, and resolves to spend these
two days in the country; at the same time he orders Parmeno to take to
Thais a Eunuch and an Æthiopian girl, whom he has purchased for her.
The Captain also sends Pamphila, who is accidentally seen by Chærea,
the younger brother of Phædria; he, being smitten with her beauty,
prevails upon Parmeno to introduce him into the house of Thais, in the
Eunuch’s dress. Being admitted there, in the absence of Thais, he
ravishes the damsel. Shortly afterward Thraso quarrels with Thais, and
comes with all his attendants to her house to demand the return of
Pamphila, but is disappointed. In conclusion, Pamphila is recognized
by her brother Chremes, and is promised in marriage to Chremes; while
Thraso becomes reconciled to Phædria, through the mediation of Gnatho,
his Parasite.


Performed at the Megalensian Games; L. Posthumius Albinus and L.
Cornelius Merula being Curule Ædiles. L. Ambivius Turpio and L.
Atilius Præsnestinus performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius,
composed the music to two treble flutes. From the Greek of Menander.
It was acted twice,[19] M. Valerius and C. Fannius being Consuls.[20]



The Captain, Thraso, being ignorant of the same, has brought {from
abroad} a girl who used wrongly to be called the sister of Thais, and
presents her to {Thais} herself: she {in reality} is a citizen of
Attica. To the same woman, Phædria, an admirer of Thais, orders a
Eunuch whom he has purchased, to be taken, and he himself goes away
into the country, having been entreated to give up two days to Thraso.
A youth, the brother of Phædria, having fallen in love with the damsel
sent to the house of Thais, is dressed up in the clothes of the
Eunuch. Parmeno prompts him; he goes in; he ravishes the maiden; but
{at length} her brother being discovered, a citizen of Attica,
betroths her who has been ravished, to the youth, {and} Thraso
prevails upon Phædria by his entreaties.


If there is any one who desires to please as many good men as
possible, and to give offense to extremely few, among those does our
Poet enroll his name. Next, if there is one who thinks[21] that
language too harsh, is {here} applied to him, let him bear this in
mind-- that it is an answer, not an attack; inasmuch as he has himself
been the first aggressor; who, by translating {plays} verbally,[22]
and writing them in bad {Latin}, has made out of good Greek {Plays}
Latin ones by no means good. Just as of late he has published the
Phasma[23] [the Apparition] of Menander; and in the Thesaurus [the
Treasure] has described[24] him from whom the gold is demanded, as
pleading his cause why it should be deemed his own, before the person
who demands it {has stated} how this treasure belongs to him, or how
it came into the tomb of his father. Henceforward, let him not deceive
himself, or fancy thus, “I have now done with it; there’s nothing that
he can say to me.” I recommend him not to be mistaken, and to refrain
from provoking me. I have many other points, as to which for the
present he shall be pardoned, which, {however}, shall be brought
forward hereafter, if he persists in attacking me, as he has begun to
do. After the Ædiles had purchased the Eunuch of Menander, {the Play}
which we are about to perform, he managed to get an opportunity of
viewing it.[25] When the magistrates were present it began to be
performed. He exclaimed that a thief, no Poet, had produced the piece,
but still had not deceived[26] {him}; that, in fact, it was the Colax,
an old Play of Plautus;[27] {and} that from it were taken the
characters of the Parasite and the Captain. If this is a fault, the
fault is the ignorance of the Poet; not that he intended to be guilty
of theft. That so it is, you will now be enabled to judge. The Colax
is {a Play} of Menander’s; in it there is Colax, a Parasite, and a
braggart Captain: he does not deny that he has transferred these
characters into his Eunuch from the Greek; but assuredly he does deny
this, that he was aware that those pieces had been already translated
into Latin. But if it is not permitted {us} to use the same characters
as others, how can it any more be allowed to represent hurrying
servants,[28] to describe virtuous matrons, artful courtesans, the
gluttonous parasite, the braggart captain, the infant palmed off, the
old man cajoled by the servant, about love, hatred, suspicion? In
fine, nothing is said now that has not been said before. Wherefore it
is but just that you should know this, and make allowance, if the
moderns do what the ancients used to do. Grant me your attention, and
give heed in silence, that you may understand what the Eunuch means.



  _Enter PHÆDRIA and PARMENO._

PHÆD. What, then, shall I do?[29] Ought I not to go, not now even,
when I am sent for of her own accord? Or ought I rather so to behave
myself as not to put up with affronts from Courtesans? She shut her
door against me; she {now} invites me back. Ought I to return? No;
though she should implore me.

PAR. I’faith, if indeed you {only} can, there’s nothing better or more
spirited; but if you begin, and can not hold out stoutly, and if, when
you can not endure it, while no one asks you, peace being not made,
you come to her of your own accord, showing that you love her, and can
not endure it, you are done for; it’s all over {with you}; you are
ruined outright. She’ll be jilting you, when she finds you overcome.
Do you then, while there’s time, again and again reflect upon this,
master, that a matter, which in itself admits of neither prudence nor
moderation, you are unable to manage with prudence. In love there are
all these evils; wrongs, suspicions, enmities, reconcilements, war,
then peace; if you expect to render these things, {naturally}
uncertain, certain by dint of reason, you wouldn’t effect it a bit the
more than if you were to use your endeavors to be mad with reason.
And, what you are now, in anger, meditating to yourself, “What! I to
her?[30] Who-- him! Who-- me! Who wouldn’t? Only let me alone; I had
rather die; she shall find out what sort of a person I am;” these
expressions, upon my faith, by a single false tiny tear, which, by
rubbing her eyes, poor thing, she can hardly squeeze out perforce, she
will put an end to; and she’ll be the first to accuse you; and you
will be too ready to give satisfaction to her.

PHÆD. O disgraceful conduct! I now perceive, both that she is
perfidious, and that I am a wretched man. I am both weary of her, and
burn with passion; knowing {and} fully sensible, alive and seeing it,
I am going to ruin; nor do I know what I am to do.

PAR. What you are to do? Why, only to redeem yourself, {thus}
captivated, at the smallest price you can; if you can not at a very
small rate, still for as little as you can; and do not afflict

PHÆD. Do you persuade me to this?

PAR. If you are wise. And don’t be adding to the troubles which love
itself produces; those which it does produce, bear patiently. But see,
here she is coming herself, the downfall of our fortunes,[31]-- for
that which we ought ourselves to enjoy she intercepts.


  _Enter THAIS from her house._

THAIS (_to herself, not seeing them._) Ah wretched me! I fear lest
Phædria should take it amiss or otherwise than I intended it, that he
was not admitted yesterday.

PHÆD. (_aside to PARMENO._) I’m trembling and shivering all over,
Parmeno, at the sight of her.

PAR. (_apart._) Be of good heart; {only} approach this fire,[32]
you’ll soon be warmer than you need.

THAIS (_turning round._) Who is it that’s speaking here? What, are you
here, my Phædria? Why are you standing here! Why didn’t you come into
the house at once?

PAR. (_whispering to PHÆDRIA._) But not a word about shutting you out!

THAIS. Why are you silent?

PHÆD. Of course, it’s because[33] this door is always open to me, or
because I’m the highest in your favor?

THAIS. Pass those matters by.

PHÆD. How pass them by? O Thais, Thais, I wish that I had equal
affection with yourself, and that it were in like degree, that either
this, might distress you in the same way that it distresses me, or
that I might be indifferent at this being done by you.

THAIS. Prithee, don’t torment yourself, my life, my Phædria. Upon my
faith, I did it, not because I love or esteem any person more {than
you}; but the case was such {that} it was necessary to be done.

PAR. (_ironically._) I suppose that, poor thing, you shut him out of
doors, for love, according to the usual practice.

THAIS. Is it thus you act, Parmeno? Well, well. (_To PHÆDRIA._) But
listen-- the reason for which I desired you to be sent for hither--

PHÆD. Go on.

THAIS. First tell me this; can this fellow possibly hold his tongue?
(_pointing to PARMENO._)

PAR. What, I? Perfectly well. But, hark you, upon these conditions I
pledge my word to you; the truth that I hear, I’m silent upon, and
retain it most faithfully; but if I hear what’s false and without
foundation, it’s out at once; I’m full of chinks, and leak in every
direction. Therefore, if you wish it to be kept secret, speak the

THAIS. My mother was a Samian; she lived at Rhodes--

PAR. That may be kept a secret.

THAIS. There, at that period, a certain merchant made present to my
mother of a little girl, who had been stolen away from Attica here.

PAR. What, a citizen?

THAIS. I think {so}; we do not know for certain: she herself used to
mention her mother’s and her father’s name; her country and other
tokens she didn’t know, nor, by reason of her age, was she able. The
merchant added this: that he had heard from the kidnappers that she
had been carried off from Sunium.[34] When my mother received her, she
began carefully to teach her every thing, {and} to bring her up, just
as though she had been her own daughter. Most persons supposed that
she was my sister. Thence I came hither with that stranger, with whom
alone at that period I was connected; he left me all which I {now}

PAR. Both these things are false; out it goes.

THAIS. How so?

PAR. Because you were neither content with one, nor was he the only
one to make you presents; for he likewise (_pointing to PHÆDRIA_)
brought a pretty considerable share to you.

THAIS. Such is the fact; but do allow me to arrive at the point I
wish. In the mean time, the Captain, who had begun to take a fancy to
me, set out to Caria;[35] since when, in the interval, I became
acquainted with you. You yourself are aware how very dear I have held
you; and how I confess to you all my nearest counsels.

PHÆD. Nor will Parmeno be silent about that.

PAR. O, is that a matter of doubt?

THAIS. Attend; I entreat you. My mother died there recently; her
brother is somewhat greedy after wealth. When he saw that this damsel
was of beauteous form and understood music, hoping for a good price,
he forthwith put her up for sale, {and} sold her. By good fortune this
friend of mine was present; he bought her as a gift to me, not knowing
or suspecting any thing of all this. He returned; but when he
perceived that I had formed a connection with you as well, he feigned
excuses on purpose that he might not give her; he said that if he
could feel confidence that he should be preferred to yourself by me,
so as not to apprehend that, when I had received her, I should forsake
him, {then} he was ready to give her to me; but that he did fear this.
But, so far as I can conjecture, he has set his affections upon the

PHÆD. Any thing beyond that?

THAIS. Nothing; for I have made inquiry. Now, my Phædria, there are
many reasons why I could wish to get her away from him. In the first
place, because she was called my sister; moreover, that I may restore
and deliver her to her friends. I am a lone woman; I have no one here,
neither acquaintance nor relative; wherefore, Phædria, I am desirous
by my good offices to secure friends. Prithee, do aid me in this, in
order that it may be the more easily effected. Do allow him for the
few next days to have the preference with me. Do you make no answer?

PHÆD. Most vile woman! Can I make you any answer after such behavior
as this?

PAR. Well done, my {master}, I commend you; (_aside_) he’s galled at
last. (_To PHÆDRIA._) You show yourself a man.

PHÆD. I was not aware what you were aiming at; “she was carried away
from here, {when} a little child; my mother brought her up as though
her own; she was called my sister; I wish to get her away, that I may
restore her to her friends.” The meaning is, that all these
expressions, in fine, now amount to this, {that} I am shut out, he is
admitted. For what reason? Except that you love him more than me: and
now you are afraid of her who has been brought {hither}, lest she
should win him, such as he is, from yourself.

THAIS. I, afraid of that?

PHÆD. What else, then, gives you concern? Let me know. Is he the only
person who makes presents? Have you found my bounty shut against you?
Did I not, when you told me that you wished for a servant-maid from
Æthiopia,[36] setting all other matters aside, go and seek for one?
Then you said that you wanted a Eunuch, because ladies of quality[37]
alone make use of them; I found {you one}. I yesterday paid twenty
minæ[38] for them both. Though slighted by you, I {still} kept these
things in mind; as a reward for so doing, I am despised by you.

THAIS. Phædria, what does this mean? Although I wish to get her away,
and think that by these means it could most probably be effected;
still, rather than make an enemy of you, I’ll do as you request me.

PHÆD. I {only} wish that you used that expression from your heart and
truthfully, “rather than make an enemy of you.” If I could believe
that this was said sincerely, I could put up with any thing.

PAR. (_aside._) He staggers; how instantaneously is he vanquished by a
single expression!

THAIS. I, wretched woman, not speak from my heart? What, pray, did you
ever ask of me in jest, but that you carried your point? I am unable
to obtain {even} this of you, that you would grant {me} only two days.

PHÆD. If, indeed, {it is but} two days; but don’t let these days
become twenty.

THAIS. Assuredly not more than two days, or--

PHÆD. “Or?” I won’t have it.

THAIS. It shall not be; only do allow me to obtain this of you.

PHÆD. Of course that which you desire must be done.

THAIS. I love you as you deserve; you act obligingly.

PHÆD. (_to PARMENO._) I shall go into the country; there I shall worry
myself for the {next} two days: I’m resolved to do so; Thais must be
humored. Do you, Parmeno, take care that they are brought hither.

PAR. Certainly.

PHÆD. For the next two days {then}, Thais, adieu.

THAIS. And the same to you, my Phædria; do you desire aught else?

PHÆD. What should I desire? That, present with the Captain, you may be
as if absent; that night and day you may love me; may feel my absence;
may dream of me; may be impatient for me; may think about me; may hope
for me; may centre your delight in me; may be all in all with me; in
fine, if you will, be my {very} life, as I am yours.

    (_Exeunt PHÆDRIA and PARMENO._


  _THAIS alone._

THAIS, (_to herself._) Ah wretched me![39] perhaps now he puts but
little faith in me, and forms his estimate of me from the dispositions
of other women.[40] By my troth, I, who know my own self, am very sure
of this, that I have not feigned any thing that’s false, and that no
person is dearer to my heart than this {same} Phædria; and whatever in
the present case I have done, for {this} girl’s sake have I done it;
for I trust that now I have pretty nearly discovered her brother,
a young man of very good family; and he has appointed this day to come
to me at my house. I’ll go hence in-doors, and wait until he comes.
(_She goes into her house._)



  _Enter PHÆDRIA and PARMENO._

PHÆD. Mind that those people are taken {there}, as I ordered.

PAR. I’ll do {so}.

PHÆD. And carefully.

PAR. It shall be done.

PHÆD. And with all speed.

PAR. It shall be done.

PHÆD. Have you had sufficient instructions?

PAR. Dear me! to ask the question, as though it were a matter of
difficulty. I wish that you were able, Phædria, to find any thing as
easily as this present will be lost.

PHÆD. Together with it, I {myself} am lost, which concerns me more
nearly. Don’t bear this with such a feeling of vexation.

PAR. By no means; on the contrary, I’ll see it done. But do you order
any thing else?

PHÆD. Set off my present with words, as far as you can; and so far as
you are able, do drive away that rival {of mine} from her.

PAR. Pshaw! I should have kept that in mind, even if you hadn’t
reminded me.

PHÆD. I shall go into the country and remain there.

PAR. I agree with you. (_Moves as if going._)

PHÆD. But hark you!

PAR. What is it you want?

PHÆD. Are you of opinion that I can muster resolution and hold out so
as not to come back within the time?

PAR. What, you? Upon my faith, I don’t think {so}; for either you’ll
be returning at once, or by-and-by, at night, want of sleep will be
driving you hither.

PHÆD. I’ll do some {laborious} work, that I may be continually
fatigued, so as to sleep in spite of myself.

PAR. When wearied, you will be keeping awake; by this you will be
making it worse.

PHÆD. Oh, you talk to no purpose, Parmeno: this softness of spirit,
upon my faith, must be got rid of; I indulge myself too much. Could I
not do without her, pray, if there were the necessity, even for a
whole three days?

PAR. Whew! an entire three days! Take care what you are about.

PHÆD. My mind is made up. (_Exit._


  _PARMENO alone._

PAR. (_to himself._) Good Gods! What a malady is this! That a man
should become so changed through love, that you wouldn’t know him to
be the same person! Not any one was there[41] less inclined to folly
than he, and no one more discreet {or} more temperate. But who is it
that’s coming this way? Heyday! surely this is Gnatho, the Captain’s
Parasite; he’s bringing along with him the damsel as a present to her.
Heavens! How beautiful! No wonder if I make but a sorry figure here
to-day with this decrepit Eunuch of mine. She surpasses Thais herself.
(_Stands aside._)


  _Enter GNATHO at a distance, leading PAMPHILA._

GNA. (_to himself._) Immortal Gods! how much does one man excel
another! What a difference there is between a wise person and a fool!
This strongly came into my mind from the following circumstance. As I
was coming along to-day, I met a certain person of this place, of my
own rank and station, no mean fellow, one who, like myself, had
guttled away his paternal estate; I saw him, shabby, dirty, sickly,
beset with rags and years; --“What’s the meaning of this garb?” said
I; {he answered}, “Because, wretch that I am, I’ve lost what I
possessed: see to what I am reduced,-- all my acquaintances and
friends forsake me.” On this I felt contempt for him in comparison
with myself. “What!” said I, “you pitiful sluggard, have you so
managed matters as to have no hope left? Have you lost your wits
together with your estate? Don’t you see me, who have risen from the
same condition? What a complexion I have, how spruce and well dressed,
what portliness of person? I have every thing, {yet} have nothing; and
although I possess nothing, still, of nothing am I in want.” “But I,”
{said he}, “unhappily, can neither be a butt nor submit to blows.”[42]
“What!” {said I}, “do you suppose it is managed by those means? You
are quite mistaken. Once upon a time, in the early ages, there was a
calling for that class; this is a new mode of coney-catching; I, in
fact, have been the first to strike into this path. There is a class
of men who strive to be the first in every thing, but are not; to
these I make my court; I do not present myself to them to be laughed
at; but I am the first to laugh with them, and at the same time to
admire their parts: whatever they say, I commend; if they contradict
that self-same thing, I commend again. Does any one deny? I deny: does
he affirm? I affirm: in fine, I have {so} trained myself as to humor
them in every thing. This calling is now by far the most productive.”

PAR. (_apart._) A clever fellow, upon my faith! From being fools he
makes men mad outright.

GNA. (_to himself, continuing._) While we were thus talking, in the
mean time we arrived at the market-place; overjoyed, all the
confectioners ran at once to meet me; fishmongers,[43] butchers,
cooks,[44] sausage-makers, {and} fishermen, whom, both when my
fortunes were flourishing and when they were ruined, I had served, and
often serve {still}: they complimented me, asked me to dinner, {and}
gave me a hearty welcome. When this poor hungry wretch saw that I was
in such great esteem, and that I obtained a living so easily, then the
fellow began to entreat me that I would allow him to learn this
{method} of me; I bade him become my follower[45] if he could; as the
disciples of the Philosophers take their names from {the Philosophers}
themselves, so too, the Parasites ought to be called Gnathonics.

PAR. (_apart to the Audience._) Do you see the effects of ease and
feeding at another’s cost?

GNA. (_to himself, continuing._) But why do I delay to take this girl
to Thais, and ask her to come to dinner? (_Aside, on seeing PARMENO._)
But I see Parmeno, our rival’s servant, waiting before the door of
Thais with a sorrowful air; all’s safe; no doubt these people are
finding a cold welcome. I’m resolved to have some sport with this

PAR. (_aside._) They fancy that, through this present, Thais is
{quite} their own.

GNA. (_accosting PARMENO._) With his very best wishes Gnatho greets
Parmeno, his very good friend. --What are you doing?

PAR. I’m standing.[46]

GNA. {So} I perceive. Pray, do you see any thing here that don’t
please you?

PAR. Yourself.

GNA. I believe {you},-- but any thing else, pray?

PAR. Why so?

GNA. Because you are out of spirits.

PAR. Not in the least.

GNA. {Well}, don’t be {so}; but what think you of this slave?
(_pointing to her._)

PAR. Really, not amiss.

GNA. (_aside._) I’ve galled the fellow.

PAR. (_aside, on overhearing him._) How mistaken you are in your

GNA. How far do you suppose this gift will prove acceptable to Thais?

PAR. It’s this you mean to say now, that we are discarded there. Hark
you, there are vicissitudes in all things.

GNA. For the next six months, Parmeno, I’ll set you at ease; you
sha’n’t have to be running to and fro, or sitting up till daylight.
Don’t I make you happy?

PAR. Me? O prodigiously!

GNA. That’s my way with my friends.

PAR. I commend {you}.

GNA. I’m detaining you; perhaps you were about to go somewhere else.

PAR. Nowhere.

GNA. In that case then, lend me your services a little; let me be
introduced to her.

PAR. Very well; (_GNATHO knocks at the door, which immediately opens_)
now the door is open for you, (_aside_) because you are bringing her.

GNA. (_going into the house of THAIS, ironically._) Should you like
any one to be called out from here? (_Goes in with PAMPHILA, and shuts
the door._)


  _PARMENO, alone._

PAR. (_to himself._) {Only} let the next two days go by; you who, at
present, in such high favor, are opening the door with one little
finger, assuredly I’ll cause to be kicking at that {door} full oft,
with your heels, to no purpose.

  _Re-enter GNATHO from the house._

GNA. Still standing here, Parmeno? Why now, have you been left on
guard here, that no go-between might perchance be secretly running
from the Captain to her? (_Exit._

PAR. Smartly said; really {they ought to be} wonderful things to
please the Captain. But I see my master’s youngest son coming this
way; I wonder why he has come away from the Piraeus,[47] for he is at
present on guard there in the public service. It’s not for nothing;
he’s coming in a hurry, too; I can’t imagine why he’s looking around
in all directions.


  _Enter CHÆREA on the other side of the stage, in haste._

CHÆ. (_to himself._) I’m utterly undone! The girl is nowhere; nor do
I know where I am myself, to have lost sight of her. Where to inquire
for her, where to search for her, whom to ask, which way to turn, I’m
at a loss. I have only this hope; wherever she is, she can not long be
concealed. O what beauteous features! from this moment I banish all
other women from my thoughts; I can not endure these every-day

PAR. (_apart._) Why look, here’s the other one. He’s saying something,
I don’t know what, about love. O unfortunate old man, {their father!}
This assuredly is a youth, who, if he does begin, you will say that
the other one was mere play and pastime, compared with what the
madness of this one will cause.

CHÆ. (_to himself, aloud._) May all the Gods and Goddesses confound
that old fellow who detained me to-day, and me as well who stopped for
him, and in fact troubled myself a straw about him. But see, here’s
Parmeno. (_Addressing him._) Good-morrow to you.

PAR. Why are you out of spirits, and why in {such} a hurry? Whence
come you?

CHÆ. What, I? I’faith, I neither know whence I’m come, nor whither I’m
going; so utterly have I lost myself.

PAR. How, pray?

CHÆ. I’m in love.

PAR. (_starting._) Ha!

CHÆ. Now, Parmeno, you may show what sort of a man you are. You know
that you often promised me {to this effect}: “Chærea, do you only find
some {object} to fall in love with; I’ll make you sensible of my
usefulness in such matters,” when I used to be storing up my father’s
provisions for you on the sly in your little room.[48]

PAR. To the point, {you} simpleton.

CHÆ. Upon my faith, this is the fact. Now, then, let your promises be
made good, if you please, or if indeed the affair is a deserving one
for you to exert your energies upon. The girl isn’t like our girls,
whom their mothers are anxious to have with shoulders kept down, {and}
chests well girthed,[49] that they may be slender. If one is a little
inclined to plumpness, they declare that she’s training for a
boxer,[50] {and} stint her food; although their constitutions are
good, by their treatment they make them as slight as bulrushes; and so
for that reason they are admired, {forsooth}.

PAR. What sort of a girl is this one of yours?

CHÆ. A new style of beauty.

PAR. (_ironically._) Astounding!

CHÆ. Her complexion genuine,[51] her flesh firm and full of

PAR. Her age?

CHÆ. Her age? Sixteen.

PAR. The very flower of youth.[53]

CHÆ. Do you make it your care to obtain her for me either by force,
stealth, or entreaty; so that I only gain her, it matters not how to

PAR. Well, but to whom does the damsel belong?

CHÆ. {That}, i’faith, I don’t know.

PAR. Whence did she come?

CHÆ. {That}, just as much.

PAR. Where does she live?

CHÆ. Nor yet do I know that.

PAR. Where did you see her?

CHÆ. In the street.

PAR. How did you come to lose her?

CHÆ. Why, that’s what I was just now fretting myself about; and I do
not believe that there is one individual to whom all good luck is a
greater stranger than to myself. What ill fortune this is! I’m utterly

PAR. What’s the matter?

CHÆ. Do you ask me? Do you know Archidemides, my father’s kinsman and

PAR. Why not?

CHÆ. He, while I was in full pursuit of her, met me.

PAR. Unseasonably, upon my faith.

CHÆ. Aye, unhappily, rather; for other {ordinary} matters are to be
called “unseasonable,” Parmeno. It would be safe for me to make oath
that I have not seen him for fully these six or seven months, until
just now, when I least wanted, and there was the least occasion. Come
now! isn’t this like a fatality? What do you say?

PAR. Extremely {so}.

CHÆ. At once he came running up to me, from a considerable distance,
stooping, palsied, hanging his lip, {and} wheezing. “Halloo, Chærea!
halloo!” said he; “I’ve something to say to you.” I stopped. “Do you
know what {it is} I want with you?” {said he}. “Say on,” {said I}.
“To-morrow my cause comes on,” {said he}. “What then?” “Be sure and
tell your father to remember and be my advocate[54] in the morning.”
In talking of this, an hour elapsed.[55] I inquired if he wanted any
thing {else}. “That’s all,” said he. I left him. When I looked in this
direction for the damsel, she had that very instant turned thia way
down this street of ours.

PAR. (_aside._) It’s a wonder if he doesn’t mean her who has just now
been made a present of to {Thais here}.

CHÆ. When I got here, she was nowhere to be seen.

PAR. Some attendants, I suppose, were accompanying the girl?

CHÆ. Yes; a Parasite, and a female servant.

PAR. (_apart._) It’s the very same. (_To CHÆREA._) It’s all over with
you; make an end of it; you’ve said your last.[56]

CHÆ. You are thinking about something else.

PAR. Indeed I’m thinking of this same matter.

CHÆ. Pray, tell me, do you know her, or did you see her?

PAR. I did see, {and} I do know her; I am aware to what house she has
been taken.

CHÆ. What, my {dear} Parmeno, do you know her, and are you aware where
she is?

PAR. She has been brought here (_pointing_) to the house of Thais the
Courtesan.[57] She has been made a present to her.

CHÆ. What opulent person is it, to be presenting a gift so precious as

PAR. The Captain Thraso, Phædria’s rival.

CHÆ. An unpleasant business for my brother, it should seem.

PAR. Aye, and if you did but know what present he is pitting against
this present, you would say so still more.

CHÆ. Troth now, what is it, pray?

PAR. A Eunuch.[58]

CHÆ. What! that unsightly creature, pray, that he purchased yesterday,
an old woman?

PAR. That very same.

CHÆ. To a certainty, the gentleman will be bundled out of doors,
together with his present; but I wasn’t aware that this Thais is our

PAR. It isn’t long {since she came}.

CHÆ. Unhappy wretch that I am! never to have seen her, even. Come now,
just tell me, is she as handsome as she is reported to be?[59]

PAR. Quite.

CHÆ. But nothing in comparison with this damsel of mine?

PAR. Another thing altogether.

CHÆ. Troth now, Parmeno, prithee do contrive for me to gain possession
of her.

PAR. I’ll do my best, and use all my endeavors; I’ll lend you my
assistance. (_Going._) Do you want any thing else with me?

CHÆ. Where are you going now?

PAR. Home; to take those slaves to Thais, as your brother ordered me.

CHÆ. Oh, lucky Eunuch that! really, to be sent as a present to that
house! PAR. Why so?

CHÆ. Do you ask? Ho will always see at home a fellow-servant of
consummate beauty, {and} he conversing with her; he will be in the
same house with her; sometimes he will take his meals with her;
sometimes sleep near her.

PAR. What now, if you yourself were to be this fortunate person?

CHÆ. By what means, Parmeno? Tell me.

PAR. Do you assume his dress.

CHÆ. His dress! Well, what then?

PAR. I’ll take you there instead of him.

CHÆ. (_musing._) I hear {you}.

PAR. I’ll say that you are he.

CHÆ. I understand {you}.

PAR. You may enjoy those advantages which you just now said he {would
enjoy}; you may take your meals together with her, be in company with
her, touch her, dally with her, {and} sleep by her side; as not one of
these women is acquainted with you, nor yet knows who you are.
Besides, you are of an age and figure that you may easily pass for a

CHÆ. You speak to the purpose; I never knew better counsel given.
Well, let’s go in at once; dress me up, take me away, lead me to her,
as fast as you can.

PAR. What do you mean? Really, I was only joking.

CHÆ. You talk nonsense.

PAR. I’m undone! Wretch that I am! what have I done? (_CHÆREA pushes
him along._) Whither are you pushing me? You’ll throw me down
presently. I entreat you, be quiet.

CHÆ. Let’s be off. (_Pushes him._)

PAR. Do you still persist?

CHÆ. I am resolved upon it.

PAR. Only take care that this isn’t too rash a project.

CHÆ. Certainly it isn’t; let me alone for that.

PAR. Aye, but I shall have to pay the penalty[60] for this?

CHÆ. Pshaw!

PAR. We shall be guilty of a disgraceful action.

CHÆ. What, is it disgraceful[61] to be taken to the house of a
Courtesan, and to return the compliment upon those tormentors who
treat us and our youthful age so scornfully, and who are always
tormenting us in every way;-- to dupe them just as we are duped by
them? Or is it right and proper that in preference my father should be
wheedled {out of his money} by deceitful pretexts? Those who knew of
this would blame me; while all would think the other a meritorious

PAR. What’s to be done in such case? If you are determined to do it,
you must do it: but don’t you by-and-by be throwing the blame upon me.

CHÆE. I shall not do so.

PAR. Do you order me, {then}?

CHÆ. I order, charge, and command you; I will never disavow my
authorizing you.

PAR. Follow me; may the Gods prosper it! (_They go into the house of



  _Enter THRASO and GNATHO._

THRA. Did Thais really return me many thanks?

GNA. Exceeding {thanks}.

THRA. Was she delighted, say you?

GNA. Not so much, indeed, at the present itself, as because it was
given by you; really, in right earnest, she does exult at that.

  _Enter PARMENO unseen, from LACHES’ house._

PAR. (_apart._) I’ve come here to be on the look-out, that when there
is an opportunity I may take {the presents}. But see, here’s the

THRA. Undoubtedly it is the case with me, that every thing I do is a
cause for thankfulness.

GNA. Upon my faith, I’ve observed it.

THRA. The most mighty King,[62] even, always used to give me especial
thanks for whatever I did; but not so to others.

GNA. He who has the wit that you have, often by his words appropriates
to himself the glory that has been achieved by the labor of others.

THRA. You’ve just hit it.[63]

GNA. The king, then, kept you in his eye.[64]

THRA. Just so.

GNA. To enjoy your society.

THRA. True; he intrusted {to me} all his army, all his state secrets.

GNA. Astonishing!

THRA. Then if, on any occasion, a surfeit of society, or a dislike of
business, came upon him, when he was desirous to take some recreation;
just as though-- you understand?[65]

GNA. I know; just as though on occasion he would rid his mind of those

THRA. You have it. Then he used to take me aside as his only boon

GNA. Whew! You are telling of a King of refined taste.

THRA. Aye, he is a person of that sort; a man of but very few

GNA. (_aside._) Indeed, of none,[66] I fancy, if he’s on intimate
terms with you.

THRA. All the people envied me, and attacked me privately. I don’t
care one straw. They envied me dreadfully; but one in particular, whom
{the King} had appointed over the Indian elephants.[67] Once, when he
became particularly troublesome, “Prithee, Strato,” said I, “are you
so fierce because you hold command over the wild beasts?”

GNA. Cleverly said, upon my faith, and shrewdly. Astounding! You did
give the fellow a home thrust. What said he?

THRA. Dumfounded, instantaneously.

GNA. How could he be otherwise?

PAR. (_apart._) Ye Gods, by our trust in you! a lost and miserable
fellow the one, and the other a scoundrel.

THRA. Well then, about that matter, Gnatho, the way in which I touched
up the Rhodian at a banquet-- did I never tell you?

GNA. Never; but pray, do tell me. (_Aside._) I’ve heard it more than a
thousand times already.

THRA. There was in my company at a banquet, this young man of Rhodes,
whom I’m speaking of. By chance I had a mistress there; he began to
toy with her, and to annoy me. “What are you doing, sir impudence?”
said I to the fellow; “a hare yourself, and looking out for game?”[68]

GNA. (_pretending to laugh very heartily._) Ha, ha, ha!

THRA. What’s the matter?

GNA. How apt, how smart, how clever; nothing {could be} more
excellent. Prithee, was this a saying of yours? I fancied it was an
old one.

THRA. Did you ever hear it before?

GNA. Many a time; and it is mentioned among the first-rate ones.

THRA. It’s my own.

GNA. I’m sorry {though} that it was said to a thoughtless young man,
and one of respectability.

PAR. (_apart._) May the Gods confound you!

GNA. Pray, what {did} he {do}?

THRA. Quite disconcerted. All who were present were dying with
laughter; in short, they were all quite afraid of me.

GNA. Not without reason.

THRA. But hark you, had I best clear myself of this to Thais, as to
her suspicion that I’m fond of this girl?

GNA. By no means: on the contrary, rather increase her jealousy.

THRA. Why so?

GNA. Do you ask me? Don’t you see, if on any occasion she makes
mention of Phædria or commends him, to provoke you----

THRA. I understand.

GNA. That such may not be the case, this method is the only remedy.
When she speaks of Phædria, do you instantly {mention} Pamphila. If at
any time she says, “Let’s invite Phædria to make one,” {do} you {say},
“Let’s {ask} Pamphila to sing.” If she praises his good looks, do you,
on the other hand, praise hers. In short, do you return like for like,
which will mortify her.

THRA. If, indeed, she loved me,[69] this might be of some use, Gnatho.

GNA. Since she is impatient for and loves that which you give her, she
already loves you; as it is, {then}, it is an easy matter for her to
feel vexed. She will be always afraid lest the presents which she
herself is now getting, you may on some occasion be taking elsewhere.

THRA. Well said; that never came into my mind.

GNA. Nonsense. You never thought about it; else how much more readily
would you yourself have hit upon it, Thraso!


  _Enter THAIS from her house, attended by PYTHIAS._

THAIS, (_as she comes out._) I thought I just now heard the Captain’s
voice. And look, here he is. Welcome, my {dear} Thraso.

THRA. O my Thais, my sweet one, how are you? How much do you love me
in return for that music girl?

PAR. (_apart._) How polite! What a beginning he has made on meeting

THAIS. Very much, as you deserve.

GNA. Let’s go to dinner then. (_To THRASO._) What do you stand {here}

PAR. (_apart._) Then there’s the other one: you would declare that he
was born for his belly’s sake.

THRA. When you please; I sha’n’t delay.

PAR. (_apart._) I’ll accost them, and pretend as though I had just
come out. (_He comes forward._) Are you going any where, Thais?

THAIS. Ha! Parmeno; well done; {just} going out for the day.

PAR. Where?

THAIS, (_aside, pointing at THRASO._) Why! don’t you see him?

PAR. (_aside._) I see him, and I’m sorry for it. (_Aloud._) Phædria’s
presents are ready for you when you please.

THRA. (_impatiently._) Why are we to stand {here}? Why don’t we be

PAR. (_to THRASO._) Troth now, pray, do let us, with your leave,
present to her the things we intend, {and} accost and speak to her.

THRA. (_ironically._) Very fine presents, I suppose, or {at least}
equal to mine.

PAR. The fact will prove itself. (_Goes to the door of LACHES’ house
and calls._) Ho there! bid those people come out of doors at once, as
I ordered.

  _Enter from the house a BLACK GIRL._

PAR. Do you step forward this way, (_To THAIS._) She comes all the way
from Æthiopia.

THRA. (_contemptuously._) Here are some three minæ in value.

GNA. Hardly so much.

PAR. Where are you, Dorus? Step this way.

  _Enter CHÆREA from the house, dressed like the EUNUCH._

PAR. There’s a Eunuch for you-- of what a genteel appearance! of what
a prime age!

THAIS. God bless me, he’s handsome.

PAR. What say you, Gnatho? Do you see any thing to find fault with?
And what {say} you, Thraso? (_Aside._) They hold their tongues; they
praise him sufficiently {thereby}. (_To THAIS._) Make trial of him in
literature, try him in exercises,[70] and in music; I’ll warrant him
well skilled in what it becomes a gentleman to know.

THRA. That Eunuch, if occasion served,[71] even in my sober senses,

PAR. And he who has sent these things makes no request that you will
live for him alone, and that for his own sake others may be excluded;
he neither tells of battles nor shows his scars, nor does he restrict
you as (_looking at THRASO_) a certain person does; but when it is not
inconvenient, whenever you think fit, whenever you have the time, he
is satisfied to be admitted.

THRA. (_to GNATHO, contemptuously._) It appears that this is the
servant of some beggarly, wretched master.

GNA. Why, faith, no person, I’m quite sure of that, could possibly put
up with him, who had the means to get another.

PAR. You hold your tongue-- a fellow whom I consider beneath all men
of the very lowest grade: for when you can bring yourself to flatter
that fellow (_pointing at THRASO_), I do believe you could pick your
victuals out of the {very} flames.[72]

THRA. Are we to go now?

THAIS. I’ll take these in-doors first (_pointing to CHÆREA and the
ÆTHIOPIAN_), and at the same time I’ll order what I wish; after that
I’ll return immediately. (_Goes into the house with PYTHIAS, CHÆREA,
and the SLAVE._)

THRA. (_to GNATHO._) I shall be off. Do you wait for her.

PAR. It is not a proper thing for a general to be walking in the
street with a mistress.

THRA. Why should I use many words with you? You are the very ape of
your master. (_Exit PARMENO._

GNA. (_laughing._) Ha, ha, ha!

THRA. What are you laughing at?

GNA. At what you were mentioning just now; that saying, too, about the
Rhodian, recurred to my mind. But Thais is coming out.

THRA. You go before; take care that every thing is ready at home.

GNA. Very well. (_Exit._


THAIS. Take care, Pythias, and be sure that if Chremes should happen
to come,[73] to beg him to wait; if that is not convenient, then to
come again; if he can not do that, bring him to me.

PYTH. I’ll do so.

THAIS. Well, what else was I intending to say? O, do you take
particular care of that young woman; be sure that you keep at home.

THRA. Let us begone.

THAIS, (_to her attendants._) You follow me. (_Exeunt THAIS and
THRASO, followed by the Attendants. PYTHIAS goes into the house._)


  _Enter CHREMES._

CHREM. (_to himself._) Why, really, the more and more I think of it,
I shouldn’t be surprised if this Thais should be doing me {some} great
mischief; so cunningly do I perceive myself beset by her. Even on the
occasion when she first requested me to be fetched to her (any one
might ask me, “What business had you with her?” Really I don’t know.)
When I came, she found an excuse for me to remain there; she said that
she had been offering a sacrifice,[74] and that she was desirous to
speak upon some important business with me. Even then I had a
suspicion that all these things were being done for her artful
purposes. She takes her place beside me; pays every attention to me;
seeks an opportunity of conversation. When {the conversation} flagged,
she turned off to this point-- how long since my father and mother
died? I said that it was now a long time ago. Whether I had any
country-house at Sunium, and how far from the sea? I suppose that this
has taken her fancy, {and} she expects to get it away from me. Then at
last, whether any little sister of mine had been lost from there;
whether any person was with her; what she had about her when she was
lost; whether any one could recognize her. Why should she make these
inquiries? Unless, perhaps, she pretends-- so great is her assurance--
that she herself is the same person that was formerly lost when a
little girl. But if she is alive, she is sixteen years old, not older;
{whereas} Thais is somewhat older than I am. She has sent to press me
earnestly to come. Either let her speak out what she wants, or not be
troublesome; I assuredly shall not come a third time (_knocking at the
door of THAIS_). Ho! there, ho! there! Is any one here? It’s I,


  _Enter PYTHIAS from the house._

PYTH. O most charming, dear creature!

CHREM. (_apart._) I said there was a design upon me.

PYTH. Thais entreated you most earnestly to come again to-morrow.

CHREM. I’m going into the country.

PYTH. Do, there’s a dear sir.

CHREM. I can not, I tell you.

PYTH. Then stay here at our house till she comes back.

CHREM. Nothing less likely.

PYTH. Why, my dear Chremes? (_Taking hold of him._)

CHREM. (_shaking her off._) Away to perdition with you!

PYTH. If you are so determined about it, pray do step over to the
place where she is.

CHREM. I’ll go {there}.

PYTH. (_calling at the door._) {Here}, Dorias (_DORIAS enters_), show
this person directly to the Captain’s.

(_Exit CHREMES with DORIAS, PYTHIAS goes into the house._


  _Enter ANTIPHO._

ANT. (_to himself._) Yesterday some young fellows of us agreed
together at the Piræus that we were to go shares today in a
club-entertainment. We gave Chærea charge of this matter; our rings
were given[75] as {pledges}; the place and time arranged. The time has
{now} gone by; at the place appointed there was nothing ready. The
fellow himself is nowhere {to be} met with; I neither know what to say
nor what to suppose. Now the rest have commissioned me with this
business, to look for him. I’ll go see, therefore, if he’s at home.
But who’s this, I wonder, coming out of Thais’s? Is it he, or is it
not? ’Tis the very man! What, sort of being is this? What kind of garb
is this? What mischief is going on now? I can not sufficiently wonder
or conjecture. But, whatever it is, I should like first at a distance
to try and find out. (_He stands apart._)


  _Enter CHÆREA from the house of Thais, in the EUNUCH’S dress._

CHÆ. (_looking around, then aloud to himself._) Is there anybody here?
There’s no one. Is there any one following me from there? There’s not
a person. Now am I not at liberty to give vent to these raptures?
O supreme Jupiter! now assuredly is the time for me to meet my
death,[76] when I can so well endure it; lest my life should sully
this ecstasy with some disaster. But is there now no inquisitive
person to be intruding upon me, to be following me wherever I go, to
be deafening me, worrying me to death, with asking questions; why
{thus} transported, or why {so} overjoyed, whither I’m going, whence
I’m come, where I got this garb, what is my object, whether I’m in my
senses or whether downright mad?

ANT. (_apart._) I’ll accost him, and I’ll do him the favor which I see
he’s wishing for. (_Accosting him._) Chærea, why are you thus
transported? What’s the object of this garb? Why is it that you’re so
overjoyed? What is the meaning of this? Are you quite right in your
senses? Why do you stare at me? What have you to say?

CHÆ. O joyous day! O welcome, my friend! There’s not one in all the
world whom I would rather wish to see at this moment than yourself.

ANT. Pray, do tell me what all this means.

CHÆ. Nay rather, i’faith, I beg of you to listen to me. Do you know
the mistress whom my brother is so fond of?

ANT. I know her; I suppose you mean Thais?

CHÆ. The very same.

ANT. So far I recollect.

CHÆ. To-day a certain damsel was presented to her. Why now should I
extol or commend her beauty to you, Antipho, since you yourself know
how nice a judge of beauty I am? I have been smitten by her.

ANT. Do you say so?

CHÆ. If you saw her, I am sure you would say she’s exquisite. What
need of many words? I fell in love with her. By good luck there was at
our house a certain Eunuch, whom my brother had purchased for Thais,
and he had not as yet been sent to her. On this occasion, Parmeno, our
servant, made a suggestion to me, which I adopted.

ANT. What was it?

CHÆ. {Be} quiet, {and} you shall hear the sooner; to change clothes
with him, and order myself to be taken there in his stead.

ANT. What, instead of the Eunuch?

CHÆ. The fact.

ANT. To receive what advantage, pray, from this plan?

CHÆ. Do you ask? That I might see, hear, and be in company with her
whom I loved, Antipho. Is {that} a slight motive, or a poor reason?
I was presented to {the} woman. She, as soon as she received me,
joyfully took me home to her house and intrusted the damsel--

ANT. To whom? To you?

CHÆ. To me.

ANT. (_ironically._) In perfect safety, at all events.

CHÆ. She gave orders that we male was to come near her, and commanded
me not to stir away from her; that I was to remain alone with her in
the inner apartments.[77] Looking bashfully on the ground, I nodded

ANT. (_ironically._) Poor fellow!

CHÆ. (_continuing._) “I am going out,” said she, “to dinner.” She took
her maids with her; a few novices of girls[78] remained, to be about
her. These immediately made preparations for her to bathe. I urged
them to make haste. While preparations were being made, the damsel sat
in a room looking up at a certain painting,[79] in which was
represented how Jove[80] is said once to have sent a golden shower
into the bosom of Danaë. I myself began to look at it as well, and as
he had in former times played the like game, I felt extremely
delighted that a God should change himself into money, and slily come
through the tiles of another person’s house, to deceive the fair one
by means of a shower. But what God was {this}? He who shakes the most
lofty temples of heaven with his thunders. Was I, a poor creature of a
mortal,[81] not to do the same? Certainly, I was to do it, and without
hesitation. While I was thinking over these matters with myself, the
damsel meantime was fetched away to bathe; she went, bathed, and came
back; after which they laid her on a couch. I stood waiting to see if
they gave me any orders. One came up, “Here, Dorus,” said she, “take
this fan,[82] and let her have a little air in this fashion, while we
are bathing; when we have bathed, if you like, you may bathe too.”
With a demure air I took it.

ANT. Really, I should very much have liked to see that impudent face
of yours just then, and what figure a great donkey like you made,
holding a fan!

CHÆ. (_continuing._) Hardly had she said this, when all, in a moment,
betook themselves off: away they went to bathe, and chattered
aloud;[83] just as the way is when masters are absent. Meanwhile,
sleep overtook the damsel; I slily looked askance[84] through the
fan;[85] this way (_showing how_): at the same time I looked round in
all directions, to see whether all was quite safe. I saw that it was.
I bolted the door.

ANT. What then?

CHÆ. Eh? What then, {you} simpleton?

ANT. I own I am.

CHÆ. Was I to let slip the opportunity offered me, so excellent, so
short-lived,[86] so longed for, so unexpected. In that case, i’faith,
I really should have been the person I was pretending to be.

ANT. Troth, you certainly are in the right; but, meantime, what has
been arranged about the club-entertainment?

CHÆ. All’s ready.

ANT. You are a clever band; but where? At your house?

CHÆ. No, at Discus’s, our freedman.

ANT. That’s a long way off.

CHÆ. Then let’s make so much the greater haste.

ANT. Change your dress.

CHÆ. Where am I to change it? I’m at a loss; for at present I’m an
exile from home; I’m afraid of my brother, lest he should be in-doors:
and then again of my father, lest he should have returned from the
country by this.

ANT. Let’s go to my house; there is the nearest place for you to

CHÆ. You say right. Let’s be off; besides, I want to take counsel with
you about this girl, by what means I may be able to secure the future
possession of her.

ANT. Very well. (_Exeunt._



  _Enter DORIAS, with a casket in her hand._

DORIAS (_to herself._) So may the Gods bless me, but from what I have
seen, I’m terribly afraid that this mad fellow will be guilty of some
disturbance to-day or of some violence to Thais. For when this young
man, the brother of the damsel, arrived, she begged the Captain to
order him to be admitted; he immediately began to get into a passion,
and yet didn’t dare refuse; Thais still insisted that he would invite
the man in. This she did for the sake of detaining him; because there
was no opportunity {just then} of telling him what she wanted to
disclose about her sister. He was invited in, and took his seat. Then
she entered into discourse with him. But the Captain, fancying it was
a rival brought before his {very} eyes, wanted in his turn to mortify
her: “Hark you, boy,” said he, “go fetch Pamphila, that she may amuse
us here.” She exclaimed, “At a banquet! Certainly not.” The Captain
still persisted to a downright quarrel. Meanwhile my mistress secretly
took off her golden {jewels},[87] and gave them to me to take away:
this is a sign, I’m sure, that she’ll betake herself from there as
soon as she possibly can.

      (_Goes into the house._)


  _Enter PHÆDRIA._

PHÆD. (_to himself._) While I was going[88] into the country, I began
on the road, as it mostly happens when there is any anxiety on the
mind, to reflect with myself upon one thing after another, and upon
every thing in the worst light. What need of words? While I was musing
thus, inadvertently I passed my country-house. I had already got some
distance from it, when I perceived this; I returned again, really
feeling quite uneasy; when I came to the very turning that leads to
{the house}, I came to a stop, {and} began to reason with myself;
“What! must I stay here alone for two days without her? Well, and what
then? It’s nothing at all. What? Nothing at all? Well now, if I
haven’t the privilege of touching her, am I not even to have that of
seeing her? If I may not do the one, at least I may the other. Surely
to love at a distance[89] {even}, is better than nothing at all.”
I purposely passed the house. But how’s this, that Pythias is suddenly
hurrying out in such a fright? (_Stands apart._)


  _Enter PYTHIAS and DORIAS in haste from the house of THAIS._

PYTH. (_aloud._) Where, wretch that I am, shall I find this wicked and
impious fellow? Or where look for him? That he should dare to commit
so audacious a crime as this! I’m ruined outright!

PHÆD. (_apart._) I dread what this may be.

PYTH. Besides, too, the villain, after he had abused the girl, rent
all the poor thing’s clothes, and tore her hair as well.

PHÆD. (_apart, in surprise._) Ha!

PYTH. If he were just now in my reach, how eagerly would I fly at that
villain’s eyes with my nails!

PHÆD. (_apart._) Really I can’t imagine what disturbance has happened
to us at home in my absence. I’ll accost them. (_Going up to them._)
What’s the matter? Why in such haste? Or whom are you looking for,

PYTH. Why, Phædria, whom should I be looking for? Away with you, as
you deserve, with such fine presents of yours.

PHÆD. What is the matter?

PYTH. What, do you ask? The Eunuch you gave us, what confusion he has
caused. He has ravished the girl whom the Captain made present of to
my mistress.

PHÆD. What is it you say?

PYTH. I’m ruined outright!

PHÆD. You are drunk.

PYTH. I wish that they were so, who wish ill to me.

DORIAS. Oh, prithee, my {dear} Pythias, what a monstrous thing this

PHÆD. You are out of your senses. How could a Eunuch possibly do this?

PYTH. I know nothing about him: as to what he has done, the thing
speaks for itself. The girl is in tears; and when you ask her what’s
the matter, she does not dare tell. But he, a precious fellow, is
nowhere to be seen. To my sorrow I suspect too, that when he took
himself off he carried something away from the house.

PHÆD. I can not enough wonder, whither this varlet can possibly have
betaken himself to any distance from here; unless perhaps he has
returned home to our house.

PYTH. Pray, go and see whether he is there.

PHÆD. I’ll let you know immediately. (_Goes into the house of

DORIAS. Ruined outright! Prithee, my dear, I never did so much as hear
of a deed so abominable!

PYTH. Why, faith, I had heard that they were extremely fond of the
women, but were incapable; unfortunately {what has happened} never
came into my mind; otherwise I should have shut him up somewhere, and
not have intrusted the girl to him.


  _Enter PHÆDRIA from the house of LACHES, with DORUS in CHÆREA’S

PHÆD. (_dragging him out._) Come out, you villain! What, do you lag
behind, you runaway? Out with you, you sorry bargain!

DORUS (_crying out._) Mercy, I do entreat you!

PHÆD. Oh, do look at that! How the villain distorts his face. What
means your coming back hither? Why this change of dress? What have you
to say? If I had delayed a moment, Pythias, I shouldn’t have found him
at home: he had just prepared, in this fashion, for flight. (_Pointing
at his dress._)

PYTH. Have you caught the fellow, pray?

PHÆD. Caught him, why not?

PYTH. O well done!

DORIAS. Upon my faith that really is capital!

PYTH. Where is he?

PHÆD. Do you ask the question? Don’t you see him? (_Pointing to the

PYTH. (_staring about._) See whom, pray?

PHÆD. This fellow, to be sure (_pointing_).

PYTH. What person is this?

PHÆD. The same that was brought to your house to-day.

PYTH. Not one of our people has ever beheld this person with her eyes,

PHÆD. Not beheld him?

PYTH. Prithee, did you fancy that this was he who was brought to our

PHÆD. Why, I had no other.

PYTH. O dear! this one really isn’t to be compared with the other. He
was of a handsome and genteel appearance.

PHÆD. He seemed {so}, just then, because he was decked out in
party-colored clothes:[90] now he appears ugly, for this reason--
because he hasn’t got them on.

PYTH. Prithee, do hold your tongue; as though indeed the difference
was so trifling. A young man was brought to our house to-day, whom,
really, Phædria, you would have liked to look upon. This is a
withered, antiquated, lethargic, old fellow, with a speckled

PHÆD. (_starting._) Hah! What tale is this? You’ll so be-fool me that
I sha’n’t know what I bought. (_To DORUS._) How now, sirrah, did I not
buy you?

DORUS. You did buy {me}.

PYTH. Bid him answer me in my turn.

PHÆD. Question {him}.

PYTH. (_to DORUS._) Did you come here to-day to our house? (_DORUS
shakes his head._) He says, no. But it was the other one that came,
about sixteen years of age; whom Parmeno brought with him.

PHÆD. (_to DORUS._) Well now, in the first place tell me this, where
did you get that dress that you have on? What, are you silent? Monster
of a fellow, are you not going to speak (_Shakes him._)

DORUS. Chærea came.

PHÆD. What, my brother?


PHÆD. When?

DORUS. To-day.

PHÆD. How long since?

DORUS. Just now.

PHÆD. With whom?

DORUS. With Parmeno.

PHÆD. Did you know him before?


PHÆD. How did you know he was my brother?

DORUS. Parmeno said he was. He gave me these clothes.

PHÆD. I’m undone!

DORUS. He himself put on mine; afterward, they both went out together.

PYTH. Now are you quite satisfied that I am sober, and that we have
told you no falsehood? Is it now sufficiently evident that the girl
has been ravished?

PHÆD. Avaunt, you beast, do you believe what he says?

PYTH. What is there to believe? The thing speaks for itself.

PHÆD. (_apart to DORUS._) Step aside a little this way. Do you hear?
(_DORUS steps aside._) A little further still. That will do. Now tell
me this once more; did Chærea take your clothes off you?

DORUS. He did.

PHÆD. And did he put them on?

DORUS. He did.

PHÆD. And was he brought here instead of you?


PHÆD. Great Jupiter! O wicked and audacious fellow!

PYTH. Woe unto me! Now at last will you believe that we have been
insulted in a disgraceful manner?

PHÆD. It is no wonder that you believe what the fellow says.
(_Aside._) What I’m to do I know not. (_Aside to DORUS._) Hark you,
deny {it all} again. (_Aloud._) Can I not this day extract the truth
from you? Did you {really} see my brother Chærea?


PHÆD. He can’t be brought to confess without being punished, I see:
follow me this way. At one moment he affirms, at another denies.
(_Aside._) Ask pardon of me.

DORUS. Indeed, I do entreat you, Phædria.

PHÆD. (_kicking him._) Be off in-doors.

DORUS. Oh! oh!

PHÆD. (_aside._) How in any other fashion to get decently out of this
I don’t know; for really it’s all up {with me}. (_Aloud, with
pretended indignation._) Will you be trifling with me even here, you
knave? (_Follows DORUS into the house._)



PYTH. I’m as certain that this is the contrivance of Parmeno as that
I’m alive.

DORIAS. So it is, {no doubt}.

PYTH. I’faith, I’ll find out a method to-day to be even with him. But
now, what do you think ought to be done, Dorias?

DORIAS. Do you mean with regard to this girl?

PYTH. Yes; whether I ought to mention it or be silent?

DORIAS. Upon my word, if you are prudent, you won’t know what you do
know, either about the Eunuch or the girl’s misfortune. By this method
you’ll both rid yourself of all perplexity, and have done a service to
her.[92] Say this only, that Dorus has run away.

PYTH. I’ll do so.

DORIAS. But don’t I see Chremes? Thais will be here just now.

PYTH. Why so?

DORIAS. Because when I came away from there, a quarrel had just
commenced between them.

PYTH. Take in these golden {trinkets}; I shall learn from him what’s
the matter. (_DORIAS takes the casket into the house._)


  _Enter CHREMES, somewhat drunk._

CHREM. Heyday! upon my faith, I’ve been bamboozled: the wine that I’ve
drunk has got the upper hand. But, so long as I was reclining, how
extremely sober I did seem to myself to be; when I got up, neither
feet nor senses were quite equal to their duty.

PYTH. Chremes!

CHREM. (_turning round._) Who’s that? What, Pythias; dear me, how much
more charming you now seem to me than a short time since!

PYTH. Troth now, you are much more merry, that’s certain.

CHREM. Upon my faith, it is a true saying, that “Venus grows cold
without Ceres and Bacchus.” But has Thais got here long before me?

PYTH. Has she already come away from the Captain’s?

CHREM. A long time ago; an age since. There has been a most violent
quarrel between them.

PYTH. Did she say nothing about you following her?

CHREM. Nothing at all; only, on going away, she gave me a nod.

PYTH. Well now, wasn’t that enough?

CHREM. Why, I didn’t know that she meant that, until the Captain gave
me an explanation, because I was dull of comprehension; for he bundled
me out of the house. But look, here she is; I wonder how it was I got
here before her.


  _Enter THAIS._

THAIS. (_to herself._) I really do believe that he’ll be here
presently, to force her away from me. Let him come; but if he touches
her with a single finger, that instant his eyes shall be torn out.
I can put up with his impertinences and his high-sounding words, as
long as they remain words: but if they are turned into realities, he
shall get a drubbing.

CHREM. Thais, I’ve been here some time.

THAIS. O my {dear} Chremes, you are the very person I was wanting. Are
you aware that this quarrel took place on your account, and that the
whole of this affair, in fact, bore reference to yourself?

CHREM. To me? How so, pray?

THAIS. Because, while I’ve been doing my best to recover and restore
your sister to you, this and a great deal more like it I’ve had to put
up with.

CHREM. Where is she?

THAIS. At home, at my house.

CHREM. (_starting._) Hah!

THAIS. What’s the matter? She has been brought up in a manner worthy
of yourself and of her.

CHREM. What is it you say?

THAIS. That which is the fact. Her I present to you, nor do I ask of
you any return for her.

CHREM. Thanks are both felt and shall be returned in such way, Thais,
as you deserve.

THAIS. But still, take care, Chremes, that you don’t lose her, before
you receive her from me; for it is she, whom the Captain is now coming
to take away from me by force. Do you go, Pythias, and bring out of
the house the casket with the tokens.[93]

CHREM. (_looking down the side Scene._) Don’t you see him, Thais?

PYTH. (_to THAIS._) Where is it put?

THAIS. In the clothes’ chest. Tiresome {creature}, why do you delay?
(_PYTHIAS goes into the house._)

CHREM. What a large body of troops the Captain is bringing with him
against you. Bless me!

THAIS. Prithee, are you frightened, my {dear} sir?

CHREM. Get out with you. What, I frightened? There’s not a man alive
less so.

THAIS. Then now is the time to prove it.

CHREM. Why, I wonder what sort of a man you take me to be.

THAIS. Nay, and consider this too; the person that you have to deal
with is a foreigner;[94] of less influence than you, less known, and
one that has fewer friends here.

CHREM. I’m aware of that; but it’s foolish to run the risk of what you
are able to avoid. I had rather we should prevent it, than, having
received an injury, avenge ourselves upon him. Do you go in and fasten
the door, while I run across hence to the Forum; I should like us to
have the aid of some legal adviser in this disturbance. (_Moves, as if

THAIS. (_holding him._) Stay.

CHREM. Let me go, I’ll be here presently.

THAIS. There’s no occasion, Chremes. Only say that she is your sister,
and that you lost her {when} a little girl, {and} have now recognized
her; {then} show the tokens.

  _Re-enter PYTHIAS from the house, with the trinkets._

PYTH. (_giving them to THAIS._) Here they are.

THAIS. (_giving them to CHREMES._) Take them. If he offers any
violence, summon the fellow to justice; do you understand me?

CHREM. Perfectly.

THAIS. Take care and say this with presence of mind.

CHREM. I’ll take care.

THAIS. Gather up your cloak. (_Aside._) Undone! the very person whom
I’ve provided as a champion, wants one himself. (_They all go into the


  _Enter THRASO, followed by GNATHO, SANGA, and other Attendants._

THRA. Am I to submit, Gnatho, to such a glaring affront as this being
put upon me? I’d die sooner. Simalio, Donax, Syriscus, follow me!
First, I’ll storm the house.

GNA. Quite right.

THRA. I’ll carry off the girl.

GNA. Very good.

THRA. I’ll give her own self a mauling.

GNA. Very proper.

THRA. (_arranging the men._) Advance hither to the main body, Donax,
with your crowbar; you, Simalio, to the left wing; you, Syriscus, to
the right. Bring up the rest; where’s the centurion Sanga, and his
maniple[95] of rogues?

SAN. (_coming forward._) See, here he is.

THRA. What, you booby, do you think of fighting with a dish-clout,[96]
to be bringing that here?

SAN. What, I? I knew the valor of the general, and the prowess of the
soldiers; {and} that this could not possibly go on without bloodshed;
how was I to wipe the wounds?

THRA. Where are the others?

SAN. Plague on you, what others? Sannio is the only one left on guard
at home.

THRA. (to GNATHO.) Do you draw up your men in battle order; I’ll be
behind the second rank;[97] from that position I’ll give the word to
all. (_Takes his place behind the second rank._)

GNA. (_aside._) That’s showing prudence; as soon as he has drawn them
up, he secures a retreat for himself.

THRA. (_pointing to the arrangements._) This is just the way Pyrrhus
used to proceed.[98]

  _CHREMES and THAIS appear above at a window._

CHREM. Do you see, Thais, what plan he is upon? Assuredly, that advice
of mine about closing the door was good.

THAIS. He who now seems to you to be a hero, is in reality a mere
vaporer; don’t be alarmed.

THRA. (_to GNATHO._) What seems {best to you}?

GNA. I could very much[99] like a sling to be given you just now, that
you might pelt them from here on the sly at a distance; they would be
taking to flight.

THRA. (_to GNATHO._) But look (_pointing_), I see Thais there herself.

GNA. How soon are we to fall to?

THRA. Hold (_holding him back_); it behooves a prudent person to make
trial of every thing before arms. How do you know but that she may do
what I bid her without compulsion?

GNA. Ye Gods, by our trust in you, what a thing it is to be wise!
I never come near you but what I go away from you the wiser.

THRA. Thais, in the first place, answer me this. When I presented you
that girl, did you not say that you would give yourself up to me alone
for some days to come?

THAIS. Well, what then?

THRA. Do you ask the question? You, who have been and brought your
lover under my very eyes? What business had you with him? With him,
too, you clandestinely betook yourself away from me.

THAIS. I chose {to do so}.

THRA. Then give me back Pamphila; unless you had rather she were taken
away by force.

CHREM. Give her back to you, or you lay hands upon her? Of all the--

GNA. Ha! What are you about? Hold your tongue.

THRA. What do you mean? Am I not to touch my own?

CHREM. Your own, indeed, {you} gallows-bird![100]

GNA. (_to CHREMES._) Have a care, if you please. You don’t know what
kind of man you are abusing now.

CHREM. (_to GNATHO._) Won’t you be off from here? Do you know how
matters stand with you? If you cause any disturbance here to-day, I’ll
make you remember the place, and day, and me too, for the rest of your

GNA. I pity you, who are making so great a man as this your enemy.

CHREM. I’ll break your head this instant if you are not off.

GNA. Do you really say so, puppy? Is it that you are at?

THRA. (_to CHREMES._) What fellow are you? What do you mean? What
business have you with her?

CHREM. I’ll let you know: in the first place, I assert that she is a
freeborn woman.

THRA. (_starting._) Ha!

CHREM. A citizen of Attica.

THRA. Whew!

CHREM. My own sister.

THRA. Brazen face!

CHREM. Now, therefore, Captain, I give you warning; don’t you use any
violence toward her. Thais, I’m going to Sophrona, the nurse, that I
may bring her here and show her these tokens.

THRA. What! Are you to prevent me from touching what’s my own?

CHREM. I will prevent it, I tell you.

GNA. (_to THRASO._) Do you hear him? He is convicting himself of
theft. Is not that enough for you?

THRA. Do you say the same, Thais?

THAIS. Go, find some one to answer you. (_She and CHREMES go away from
the window._)

THRA. (_to GNATHO._) What are we to do now?

GNA. Why, go back again: she’ll soon be with you, of her own accord,
to entreat forgiveness.

THRA. Do you think so?

GNA. Certainly, yes. I know the disposition of women: when you will,
they won’t; when you won’t, they set their hearts upon you of their
own inclination.

THRA. You judge right.

GNA. Shall I dismiss the army then?

THRA. Whenever you like.

GNA. Sanga, as befits gallant soldiers,[101] take care in your turn to
remember your homes and hearths.

SAN. My thoughts have been for some time among the sauce-pans.

GNA. You are a worthy fellow.

THRA. (_putting himself at their head._) You follow me this way.

(_Exeunt omnes._



  _Enter THAIS from her house, followed by PYTHIAS._

THAIS. What! do you persist, hussy, in talking ambiguously to me? “I
do know;” “I don’t know;” “he has gone off;” “I have heard;” “I wasn’t
there.” Don’t you mean to tell me plainly, whatever it is? The girl in
tears, with her garments torn, is mute; the Eunuch is off: for what
reason? What has happened? Won’t you speak?

PYTH. Wretch that I am, what am I to say to you? They declare that he
was not a Eunuch.

THAIS. What was he then?

PYTH. That Chærea.

THAIS. What Chærea?

PYTH. That stripling, the brother of Phædria.

THAIS. What’s that you say, you hag?

PYTH. And I am satisfied of it.

THAIS. Pray, what business had he at my house? What brought him there?

PYTH. I don’t know; unless, as I suppose, he was in love with

THAIS. Alas! to my confusion, unhappy woman that I am, I’m undone, if
what you tell me is true. Is it about this that the girl is crying?

PYTH. I believe so.

THAIS. How say you, you arch-jade? Did I not warn you about this very
thing, when I was going away from here?

PYTH. What could I do? Just as you ordered, she was intrusted to his
care only.

THAIS. Hussy, I’ve been intrusting the sheep to the wolf. I’m quite
ashamed to have been imposed upon in this way. What sort of man was

PYTH. Hush! hush! mistress, pray; we are all right. Here we have the
very man.

THAIS. Where is he?

PYTH. Why there, to the left. Don’t you see?

THAIS. I see.

PYTH. Order him to be seized as quickly as possible.

THAIS. What can we do to him, simpleton?

PYTH. What do to him, do you ask? Pray, do look at him; if his face
doesn’t seem an impudent one.

THAIS. Not at all.

PYTH. Besides, what effrontery he has.


  _Enter CHÆREA, in the EUNUCH’S dress, on the other side of the

CHÆ. (_to himself._) At Antipho’s,[102] both of them, father and
mother, just as if on purpose, were at home, so that I couldn’t any
way get in, but that they must have seen me. In the mean time, while I
was standing before the door, a certain acquaintance {of mine} was
coming full upon me. When I espied him, I took to my heels as fast as
I could down a narrow unfrequented alley; thence again to another,
{and} thence to another; thus have I been most dreadfully harassed
with running about, that no one might recognize me. But isn’t this
Thais that I see? It is she. I’m at a stand. What shall I do? But what
need I care? What can she do to me?

THAIS, (_to PYTHIAS._) Let’s accost him. (_To CHÆREA._) Good Mister
Dorus, welcome; tell me, have you been running away?

CHÆ. Madam, I did so.

THAIS. Are you quite pleased with it?

CHÆ. No.

THAIS. Do you fancy that you’ll get off with impunity?

CHÆ. Forgive this one fault; if I’m ever guilty of another, {then}
kill me.

THAIS. Were you in fear of my severity?

CHÆ. No.

THAIS. No? What then?

CHÆ. (_pointing at PYTHIAS._) I was afraid of her, lest she might be
accusing me to you.

THAIS. What had you done?

CHÆ. A mere trifle.

PYTH. Come now, a trifle, you impudent fellow. Does this appear a
trifle to you, to ravish a virgin, a citizen?

CHÆ. I took her for my fellow-servant.

PYTH. Fellow-servant? I can hardly restrain myself from flying at his
hair. A miscreant! Even of his own free will he comes to make fun of

THAIS, (_to PYTHIAS._) Won’t you begone from here, you mad woman?

PYTH. Why so? Really, I do believe I should be something in this
hang-dog’s debt, if I were to do so; especially as he owns that he is
your servant.

THAIS. We’ll pass that by. Chærea, you have behaved unworthily of
yourself; for if I am deserving in the highest degree of this affront,
still it is unbecoming of you to be guilty of it. And, upon my faith,
I do not know what method now to adopt about this girl: you have so
confounded all my plans, that I can not possibly return her to her
friends in such a manner as is befitting and as I had intended; in
order that, by this means, I might, Chærea, do a real service to

CHÆ. But now, from henceforth, I hope, Thais, that there will be
lasting good-will between us. Many a time, from some affair of this
kind and from a bad beginning, great friendships have sprung up. What
if some Divinity has willed this?

THAIS. I’faith, for my own part I both take it in that view and wish
{to do so}.

CHÆ. Yes, prithee, do so. Be sure of this one thing, that I did not do
it for the sake of affronting you, but in consequence of passion.

THAIS. I understand, and, i’faith, for that reason do I now the more
readily forgive you. I am not, Chærea, of a disposition so ungentle,
or so inexperienced, as not to know what is the power of love.

CHÆ. So may the Deities kindly bless me, Thais; I am now smitten with
you as well.

PYTH. Then, i’faith, mistress, I foresee you must have a care of him.

CHÆ. I would not dare--

PYTH. I won’t trust you at all in any thing.

THAIS, (_to PYTHIAS._) Do have done.

CHÆ. Now I entreat you that you will be my assistant in this affair.
I intrust and commit myself to your care; I take you, Thais, as my
protectress; I implore you; I shall die if I don’t have her for my

THAIS. But if your father {should say} any thing--

CHÆ. Oh, he’ll consent, I’m quite sure of that, if she is only a

THAIS. If you will wait a little, the brother himself of the young
woman will be here presently; he has gone to fetch the nurse, who
brought her up when a little child; you yourself, shall be present
Chærea, at his recognition of her.

CHÆ. I certainly will stay.

THAIS. In the mean time, until he comes, would you prefer that we
should wait for him in the house, rather than here before the door?

CHÆ. Why yes, I should like it much.

PYTH. (_to THAIS._) Prithee, what are you going to do?

THAIS. Why, what’s the matter?

PYTH. Do you ask? Do you think of admitting him after this into your

THAIS. Why not?

PYTH. Trust my word for it, he’ll be creating some new disturbance.

THAIS. O dear, prithee, do hold your tongue.

PYTH. You seem to me to be far from sensible of his assurance.

CHÆ. I’ll not do any thing, Pythias.

PYTH. Upon my faith, I don’t believe you, Chærea, except in case you
are not trusted.

CHÆ. Nay but, Pythias, do you be my keeper.

PYTH. Upon my faith, I would neither venture to give any thing to you
to keep, nor to keep you {myself}: away with you!

THAIS. Most opportunely the brother himself is coming.

CHÆ. I’faith, I’m undone. Prithee, let’s be gone in-doors, Thais.
I don’t want him to see me in the street with this dress on.

THAIS. For what reason, pray? Because you are ashamed?

CHÆ. Just so.

PYTH. Just so? But the young woman----

THAIS. Go first; I’ll follow. You stay here, Pythias, that you may
show Chremes in. (_THAIS and CHÆREA go into the house._)



PYTH. (_to herself._) Well! what now can suggest itself to my mind?
What, I wonder, in order that I may repay the favor to that villain
who palmed this {fellow} off upon us?

CHREM. Really, do bestir yourself more quickly, nurse.

SOPH. I am bestirring.

CHREM. {So} I see; but you don’t stir forward.

PYTH. (_to CHREMES._) Have you yet shown the tokens to the nurse?

CHREM. All of them.

PYTH. Prithee, what does she say? Does she recognize them?

CHREM. Yes, with a full recollection of them.

PYTH. Upon my faith, you do bring good news; for I {really} wish well
to this young woman. Go in-doors: my mistress has been for some time
expecting you at home. (_CHREMES and SOPHRONA go into THAIS’S house._)
But look, yonder I espy {that} worthy fellow, Parmeno, coming: just
see, for heaven’s sake, how leisurely he moves along. I hope I have it
in my power to torment him after my own fashion. I’ll go in-doors,
that I may know for certain about the discovery; afterward I’ll come
out, and give this villain a terrible fright. (_Goes into the house._)


  _Enter PARMENO._

PAR. (_to himself._) I’ve just come back to see what Chærea has been
doing here. If he has managed the affair with dexterity, ye Gods, by
our trust in you, how great and genuine applause will Parmeno obtain!
For not to mention that a passion, full of difficulty and expense,
with which he was smitten for a virgin, belonging to an extortionate
courtesan, I’ve found means of satisfying for him, without
molestation, without outlay, {and} without cost; then, this other
point-- that is really a thing that I consider my crowning merit, to
have found out the way by which a young man may be enabled to learn
the dispositions and manners of courtesans, so that by knowing them
betimes, he may detest them ever after. (_PYTHIAS enters from the
house unperceived._) For while they are out of doors, nothing seems
more cleanly, nothing more neat or more elegant; and when they dine
with a gallant, they pick daintily about:[103] to see the filth, the
dirtiness, the neediness of these women; how sluttish they are when at
home, and how greedy after victuals; in what a fashion they devour the
black bread with yesterday’s broth:-- to know all this, is salvation
to a young man.


  _Enter PYTHIAS from the house._

PYTH. (_apart, unseen by PARMENO._) Upon my faith, you villain, I’ll
take vengeance upon you for these sayings and doings; so that you
sha’n’t make sport of us with impunity. (_Aloud, coming forward._) O,
by our trust in the Gods, what a disgraceful action! O hapless young
man! O wicked Parmeno, to have brought him here!

PAR. What’s the matter?

PYTH. I do pity him; and so that I mightn’t see it, wretched creature
that I am, I hurried away out of doors. What a dreadful example they
talk of making him!

PAR. O Jupiter! What is this tumult? Am I then undone? I’ll accost
her. What’s all this, Pythias? What are you saying? An example made of

PYTH. Do you ask the question, you most audacious fellow? You’ve
proved the ruin of the young man whom you brought hither for the
Eunuch, while you were trying to put a trick upon us.

PAR. How so, or what has happened? Tell me.

PYTH. I’ll tell you: that young woman who was to-day made a present to
Thais, are you aware that she is a citizen of this place, and that her
brother is a person of very high rank?

PAR. I didn’t know {that}.

PYTH. But so she has been discovered {to be}; he, unfortunate {youth},
has ravished her. When the brother came to know of this being done, in
a most towering rage, {he}----

PAR. Did what, pray?

PYTH. First, bound him in a shocking manner.

PAR. Bound him?

PYTH. And even though Thais entreated him that he wouldn’t do so----

PAR. What is it you tell me?

PYTH. Now he is threatening that he {will} also {do} that which is
usually done to ravishers; a thing that I never saw done, nor wish to.

PAR. With what assurance does he dare {perpetrate} a crime so heinous?

PYTH. How “so heinous?”

PAR. Is it not most heinous? Who ever saw any one taken up as a
ravisher in a courtesan’s house?

PYTH. I don’t know.

PAR. But that you mayn’t be ignorant of this, Pythias, I tell you,
{and} give you notice that he is my master’s son.

PYTH. How! Prithee, is it he?

PAR. Don’t let Thais suffer any violence to be done to him. But why
don’t I go in myself?

PYTH. Take care, Parmeno, what you are about, lest you both do him no
good and come to harm yourself; for it is their notion, that whatever
has happened, has originated in you.

PAR. What then, wretch that I am, shall I do, or how resolve? But
look, I see the old gentleman returning from the country; shall I tell
him or shall I not? By my troth, I will tell him; although I am
certain that a heavy punishment is in readiness for me; but it’s a
matter of necessity, in order that he may rescue him.

PYTH. You are wise. I’m going in-doors; do you relate to him every
thing exactly as it happened. (_Goes into the house._)


  _Enter LACHES._

LACH. (_to himself._) I have this advantage[104] from my country-house
being so near at hand; no weariness, either of country or of town,
ever takes possession of me; when satiety begins to come on, I change
my locality. But is not that our Parmeno? Surely it is he. Whom are
you waiting for, Parmeno, before the door here?

PAR. (_pretends not to see him._) Who is it? (_Turning round._) Oh,
I’m glad that you have returned safe.

LACH. Whom are you waiting for?

PAR. (_aside._) I’m undone: my tongue cleaves {to my mouth} through

LACH. Why, what is it you are trembling about? Is all quite right?
Tell me.

PAR. Master, in the first place, I would have you persuaded of what is
the fact; whatever has happened in this affair has happened through no
fault of mine.

LACH. What {is it}?

PAR. Really you have reason to ask. I ought first to have told you the
circumstances. Phædria purchased a certain Eunuch, to make a present
of to this woman here.

LACH. To what woman?

PAR. To Thais.

LACH. Bought? Good heavens, I’m undone! For how much?

PAR. Twenty minæ.

LACH. Done for, quite.

PAR. Then, Chærea is in love with a certain music-girl here.
(_Pointing to THAIS’S house._)

LACH. How! What? In love? Does he know already what a courtesan means?
Is he come to town? One misfortune close upon another.

PAR. Master, don’t look so at me; he didn’t do these things by my

LACH. Leave off talking about yourself. If I live, you hang-dog,
I’ll---- But first give me an account of it, whatever it is.

PAR. He was taken to the house of Thais in place of the Eunuch.

LACH. In place of the Eunuch?

PAR. Such is the fact. They have since apprehended him in the house as
a ravisher, and bound him.

LACH. Death!

PAR. Mark the assurance of courtesans.

LACH. Is there any other calamity or misfortune besides, that you have
not told me of?

PAR. That’s all.

LACH. Do I delay rushing in here? (_Runs into the house of THAIS._)

PAR. (_to himself._) There’s no doubt but that I shall have a heavy
punishment for this affair, only that I was obliged to act thus. I’m
glad of this, that some mischief will befall these women here through
my agency, for the old man has, for a long time, been on the look-out
for some occasion[105] to do them a bad turn; at last he has found it.


  _Enter PYTHIAS from the house of THAIS, laughing._

PYTH. (_to herself, on entering._) Never, upon my faith, for a long
time past, has any thing happened to me that I could have better liked
to happen, than the old gentleman just now, full of his mistake,
coming into our house. I had the joke all to myself, as I knew[106]
what it was he feared.

PAR. (_apart_). Why, what’s all this?

PYTH. Now I’m come out to meet with Parmeno. But, prithee, where is
he? (_Looking around._)

PAR. (_apart._) She’s looking for me.

PYTH. And there he is, I see; I’ll go up to him.

PAR. What’s the matter, simpleton? What do you mean? What are you
laughing about? Still going on?

PYTH. (_laughing._) I’m dying; I’m wretchedly tired with laughing at

PAR. Why so?

PYTH. Do you ask? Upon my faith, I never did see, nor shall see,
a more silly fellow. Oh dear, I can not well express what amusement
you’ve afforded in-doors. And still I formerly took you to be a clever
and shrewd person. Why, was there any need for you instantly to
believe what I told you? Or were you not content with the crime, which
by your advice the young man had been guilty of, without betraying the
poor fellow to his father as well? Why, what do you suppose his
feelings must have been at the moment when his father saw him clothed
in that dress? Well, do you now understand that you are done for?

PAR. Hah! what is it you say, you hussy? Have you been telling me
lies? What, laughing still? Does it appear so delightful to you, you
jade, to be making fools of us?

PYTH. (_laughing._) Very much so.

PAR. Yes, indeed, if you can do it with impunity.

PYTH. Exactly so.

PAR. By heavens, I’ll repay you!

PYTH. I believe you; but, perhaps, that which you are threatening,
Parmeno, will need a {future} day; you’ll be trussed up directly, for
rendering a silly young man remarkable for disgraceful conduct, and
{then} betraying him to his father; they’ll both be making an example
of you. (_Laughing._)

PAR. I’m done for!

PYTH. This reward has been found you in return for that present {of
yours};[107] I’m off. (_Goes into the house._)

PAR. (_to himself._) Wretch that I am; just like a rat, this day I’ve
come to destruction through betrayal of myself.[108]


  _Enter THRASO and GNATHO._

GNA. (_to THRASO._) Well now? With what hope, or what design, are we
come hither? What do you intend to do, Thraso?

THRA. What, I? To surrender myself to Thais, and do what she bids me.

GNA. What is it you say?

THRA. Why any the less so, than Hercules served Omphale.[109]

GNA. The precedent pleases me. (_Aside._) I only wish I may see your
head stroked down with a slipper;[110] but her door makes a noise.

THRA. Confusion! Why, what mischief’s this? I never saw this person
before; why, I wonder, is he rushing out in such a hurry? (_They stand


  _Enter CHÆREA from the house of THAIS, on the other side of the

CHÆ. (_to himself, aloud._) O fellow-townsmen, is there any one alive
more fortunate than me this day? Not any one, upon my faith: for
clearly in me have the Gods manifested all their power, on whom, thus
suddenly, so many blessings are bestowed.

PAR. (_apart._) Why is he {thus} overjoyed?

CHÆ. (_seeing PARMENO, and running up to him._) O my {dear} Parmeno,
the contriver, the beginner, the perfecter of all my delights, do you
know what are my transports? Are you aware that my Pamphila has been
discovered to be a citizen?

PAR. I have heard {so}.

CHÆ. Do you know that she is betrothed to me?

PAR. So may the Gods bless me, happily done.

GNA. (_apart to THRASO._) Do you hear what he says?

CHÆ. And then, besides, I am delighted that my brother’s mistress is
secured to him; the family is united. Thais has committed herself to
the patronage of my father;[111] she has put herself under our care
and protection.

PAR. Thais, then, is wholly your brother’s.

CHÆ. Of course.

PAR. Then this is another reason for us to rejoice, that the Captain
will be beaten out of doors.

CHÆ. Wherever my brother is, do you take care that he hears this as
soon as possible.

PAR. I’ll go look for him at home. (_Goes into the house of LACHES._)

THRA. (_apart to GNATHO._) Do you at all doubt, Gnatho, but that I am
now ruined everlastingly?

GNA. (_to THRASO._) Without doubt, I do think so.

CHÆ. (_to himself._) What am I to make mention of first, or commend in
especial? Him who gave me the advice to do so, or myself, who ventured
to undertake it? Or ought I to extol fortune, who has been my guide,
and has so opportunely crowded into a single day events so numerous,
so important; or my father’s kindness and indulgence? Oh Jupiter,
I entreat you, do preserve these blessings unto us!


  _Enter PHÆDRIA from the house of LACHES._

PHÆD. (_to himself._) Ye Gods, by our trust in you, what incredible
things has Parmeno just related to me! But where is my brother?

CHÆ. (_stepping forward._) Here he is.

PHÆD. I’m overjoyed.

CHÆ. I quite believe you. There is no one, brother, more worthy to be
loved than this Thais of yours: so much is she a benefactress to all
our family.

PHÆD. Whew! are you commending her {too} to me?

THRA. (_apart._) I’m undone; the less the hope I have, the more I am
in love. Prithee, Gnatho, my hope is in you.

GNA. (_apart._) What do you wish me to do?

THRA. (_apart._) Bring this about, by entreaties {or} with money, that
I may at least share Thais’s favors in some degree.

GNA. (_apart._) It’s a hard task.

THRA. (_apart._) If you set your mind on any thing, I know you {well}.
If you manage this, ask me for any present you like as your reward;
you shall have what you ask.

GNA. (_apart._) Is it so?

THRA. (_apart._) It shall be so.

GNA. (_apart._) If I manage this, I ask that your house, whether you
are present or absent, may be open to me; that, without invitation,
there may always be a place for me.

THRA. (_apart._) I pledge my honor that it shall be {so}.

GNA. (_apart._) I’ll set about it {then}.

PHÆD. Who is it I hear so close at hand? (_Turning round._) O Thraso--

THRA. (_coming forward._) Save you {both}--

PHÆD. Perhaps you are not aware what has taken place here.

THRA. I am quite aware.

PHÆD. Why, then, do I see you in this neighborhood?

THRA. Depending on your {kindness}.

PHÆD. Do you know what sort of dependence you have? Captain, I give
you notice, if ever I catch you in this street again, even if you
should say to me, “I was looking for another person, I was on my road
this way,” you are undone.

GNA. Come, come, that’s not handsome.

PHÆD. I’ve said it.

GNA. I didn’t know you gave yourself such airs.

PHÆD. So it shall be.

GNA. First hear a few words from me; and when I have said the thing,
if you approve of it, do it.

PHÆD. Let’s hear.

GNA. Do you step a little that way, Thraso. (_THRASO stands aside._)
In the first place, I wish you both implicitly to believe me in this,
that whatever I do in this matter, I do it entirely for my own sake;
but if the same thing is of advantage to yourselves, it would be folly
for you not to do it.

PHÆD. What is it?

GNA. I’m of opinion that the Captain, your rival, should be received
{among you}.

PHÆD. (_starting._) Hah!

CHÆ. Be received?

GNA. (_to PHÆDRIA._) Only consider. I’faith, Phaedria, at the free
rate you are living with her, and indeed very freely you are living,
you have but little to give; and it’s necessary for Thais to receive a
good deal. That all this may be supplied for your amour and not at
your own expense, there is not an individual better suited or more
fitted for your purpose {than the Captain}. In the first place, he
both has got enough to give, and no one does give more profusely. He
is a fool, a dolt, a blockhead; night and day he snores away; and you
need not fear that the lady will fall in love with him; you may easily
have him discarded whenever you please.

CHÆ. (_to PHÆDRIA._) What shall we do?

GNA. And this besides, which I deem to be of even greater
importance,-- not a single person entertains in better style or more

CHÆ. It’s a wonder if this sort of man can not be made use of in some
way or other.

PHÆD. I think so too.

GNA. You act properly. One thing I have still to beg of you,-- that
you’ll receive me into your fraternity; I’ve been rolling that
stone[112] for a considerable time past.

PHÆD. We admit you.

CHÆ. And with all my heart.

GNA. Then I, in return for this, Phaedria, and you, Chaerea, make him
over to you[113] to be eaten and drunk to the dregs.

CHÆ. Agreed.

PHÆD. He quite deserves it.[114]

GNA. (_calling to THRASO._) Thraso, whenever you please, step this

THRA. Prithee, how goes it?

GNA. How? {Why}, these people didn’t know you; after I had discovered
to them your qualities, and had praised you as your actions and your
virtues deserved, I prevailed upon them.

THRA. You have managed well; I give you my best thanks. Besides,
I never was any where but what all were extremely fond of me.

GNA. (_to PHÆDRIA and CHÆREA._) Didn’t I tell you that he was a master
of the Attic elegance?

PHÆD. He is no other than you mentioned. (_Pointing to his FATHER’S
house._) Walk this way. (_To the AUDIENCE._) Fare you well, and grant
us your applause.


  [Footnote 1: From λαγχάνω, “to obtain by lot” or “heirship.”]

  [Footnote 2: From φαιδρὸς, “cheerful.”]

  [Footnote 3: From χαίρων, “rejoicing.”]

  [Footnote 4: From ἀντὶ, “opposite to,” and φῶς, “light,” or φῆμι,
  “to speak.”]

  [Footnote 5: From χρεμίζω, “to neigh;” delighting in horses.]

  [Footnote 6: From θρασὸς, “boldness.”]

  [Footnote 7: From γναθὸς, “the jawbone;” a glutton.]

  [Footnote 8: From παρὰ, “by,” and μένω, “to remain.”]

  [Footnote 9: From Sangia in Phrygia, his native country.]

  [Footnote 10: From δόναξ, “a reed.”]

  [Footnote 11: From σιμὸς, “flat-nosed.”]

  [Footnote 12: From Syria, his country; or from συρίσκος,
  “a basket of figs.”]

  [Footnote 13: From θεάομαι, “to look at.”]

  [Footnote 14: From πυθομένη, “asking questions.”]

  [Footnote 15: From Doris, their country, a part of Caria.]

  [Footnote 16: From σώφρων, “prudent.”]

  [Footnote 17: From πᾶν, “all,” and φιλὸς, “a friend.”]

  [Footnote 18: _The Title_)--Colman has the following remark on
  this Play: “This seems to have been the most popular of all the
  Comedies of Terence. Suetonius and Donatus both inform us that it
  was acted with the greatest applause, and that the Poet received a
  larger price for it from the Ædiles than had ever been paid for
  any before, namely, 8000 sesterces, which is about equal to 200
  crowns, which in those times was a considerable sum.”]

  [Footnote 19: _Acted twice_)--This probably means “twice in one
  day.” As it is generally supposed that something is wanting after
  the figures II, this is presumed to be “die,” “in one day,” in
  confirmation of which Suetonius informs us that it really was
  performed twice in one day. Donatus says it was performed three
  times, by which he may probably mean, twice on one day and once on

  [Footnote 20: _Being Consuls_)--M. Valerius Messala and C. Fannius
  Strabo were Consuls in the year from the building of the City 591,
  or B.C. 162.]

  [Footnote 21: _If there is one who thinks_)--Ver. 4. He alludes to
  his old enemy, Luscus Lavinius, the Comic Poet, who is alluded to
  in the Prologue to the Andria, and has since continued his attacks
  upon him.]

  [Footnote 22: _By translating literally_)--Ver. 7. “Bene vertendo,
  at eosdem scribendo male.” This passage has greatly puzzled some
  of the Commentators. Bentley has, however, it appears, come to the
  most reasonable conclusion; who supposes that Terence means by
  “bene vertere,” a literal translation, word for word, from the
  Greek, by which a servile adherence to the idiom of that language
  was preserved to the neglect of the Latin idiom; in consequence of
  which the Plays of Luscus Lavinius were, as he remarks, “male
  scriptæ,” written in bad Latin.]

  [Footnote 23: _Has published the Phasma_)--Ver. 9. The “Φασμά,” or
  “Apparition,” was a play of Menander, so called, in which a young
  man looking through a hole in the wall between his father’s house
  and that next door, sees a young woman of marvelous beauty, and is
  struck with awe at the sight, as though by an apparition; in the
  Play, the girl’s mother is represented as having made this hole in
  the wall, and having decked it with garlands and branches that it
  may resemble a consecrated place; where she daily performs her
  devotions in company with her daughter, who has been privately
  brought up, and whose existence is unknown to the neighbors. On
  the youth coming by degrees to the knowledge that the object of
  his admiration is but a mortal, his passion becomes so violent
  that it will admit of no cure but marriage, with the celebration
  of which the Play concludes. Bentley gives us the above
  information from an ancient Scholiast, whose name is unknown,
  unless it is Donatus himself, which is doubtful. It would appear
  that Luscus Lavinius had lately made a translation of this Play,
  which, from its servile adherence to the language of the original,
  had been couched in ungrammatical language, and probably not
  approved of by the Audience. Donatus thinks that this is the
  meaning of the passage, and that, content with this slight
  reference to a well-known fact, the author passes it by in
  contemptuous silence.]

  [Footnote 24: _And in the Thesaurus has described_)--Ver. 10. Cook
  has the following appropriate remark upon this passage: “In the
  ‘Thesaurus,’ or ‘Treasure’ of Luscus Lavinius, a young fellow,
  having wasted his estate by his extravagance, sends a servant to
  search his father’s monument: but he had before sold the ground on
  which the monument was, to a covetous old man; to whom the servant
  applies to help him open the monument; in which they discover a
  hoard and a letter. The old fellow sees the treasure and keeps it;
  the young one goes to law with him, and the old man is represented
  as opening his cause first before the judge, which he begins with
  these words:--

    ‘Athenienses, bellum cum Rhodiensibus,
    Quod fuerit, quid ego prædicem?’

  ‘Athenians, why should I relate the war with the Rhodians?’ And he
  goes on in a manner contrary to the rules of court; which Terence
  objects to, because the young man, who was the plaintiff, should
  open his cause first. Thus far Bentley, from the same Scholiast
  [as referred to in the last Note]. This Note is a clear
  explanation of the four verses to which it belongs. Hare concurs
  with Madame Dacier in her opinion ‘de Thesauro,’ that it is only a
  part of the Phasma of Menander, and not a distinct Play; but were
  I not determined by the more learned Bentley, the text itself
  would not permit me to be of their opinion; for the words ‘atque
  in Thesauro scripsit’ seem plainly to me to be a transition to
  another Play. The subject of the Thesaurus is related by
  Eugraphius, though not with all the circumstances mentioned in my
  Note from Bentley.” Colman also remarks here; “Menander and his
  contemporary Philemon, each of them wrote a Comedy under this
  title. We have in the above Note the story of Menander’s; and we
  know that of Philemon’s from the ‘Trinummus’ of Plautus, which was
  a Translation of it.”]

  [Footnote 25: _Opportunity of viewing it_)--Ver. 21. Colman thinks
  that this means something “stronger than merely being present at
  the representation,” and he takes the meaning to be, that having
  obtained leave to peruse the MS., he furnished himself with
  objections against the piece, which he threw out when it came to
  be represented before the magistrates. Cooke thinks that the
  passage only means, “that he bustled and took pains to be near
  enough at the representation to see and hear plainly.” The truth
  seems to be that Lavinius managed to obtain admission at the
  rehearsal or trial of the merits of the piece before the
  magistrates, and that he then behaved himself in the unseemly
  manner mentioned in the text.]

  [Footnote 26: _Produced the piece, but still had not deceived
  him_)--Ver. 24. There is a pun here upon the resemblance in
  meaning of the words “verba dare” and “fabulam dare.” The first
  expression means to “deceive” or “impose upon;” the latter phrase
  has also the same meaning, but it may signify as well “to
  represent” or “produce a Play.” Thus the exclamation in its
  ambiguity may mean, “he has produced a Play, and has not succeeded
  in deceiving us,” or “he has deceived us, and yet has not deceived
  us.” This is the interpretation which Donatus puts upon the

  [Footnote 27: _Colax, an old Play of Plautus_)--Ver. 25. Although
  Nonius Marcellus professes to quote from the Colax of Plautus (so
  called from the Greek Κολὰξ, “a flatterer” or “parasite”), some
  scholars have disbelieved in the existence of any Play of Plautus
  known by that name. Cooke says: “If Plautus had wrote a Play under
  the title of ‘Colax,’ I should think it very unlikely that it
  should have escaped Terence’s eye, considering how soon he
  flourished after Plautus, his being engaged in the same studies,
  and his having such opportunities to consult the libraries of the
  great; for though all learning was then confined to Manuscripts,
  Terence could have no difficulty in coming at the best copies. The
  character of the ‘Miles Gloriosus’ [Braggart Captain] here
  mentioned, I am inclined to think the same with that which is the
  hero of Plautus’s Comedy, now extant, and called ‘Miles
  Gloriosus,’ from which Terence could not take his Thraso.
  Pyrgopolinices and Thraso are both full of themselves, both boast
  of their valor and their intimacy with princes, and both fancy
  themselves beloved by all the women who see them; and they are
  both played off by their Parasites, but they differ in their
  manner and their speech: Plautus’s Pyrgopolinices is always in the
  clouds, and talking big, and of blood and wounds-- Terence’s
  Thraso never says too little nor much, but is an easy ridiculous
  character, continually supplying the Audience with mirth without
  the wild extravagant bluster of Pyrgopolinices; Plautus and
  Terence both took their soldiers and Parasites from Menander, but
  gave them different dresses.” Upon this Note Colman remarks:
  “Though there is much good criticism in the above Note, it is
  certain that Plautus did not take his ‘Miles Gloriosus’ from the
  Colax of Menander, as he himself informs us it was translated from
  a Greek play called Ἀλάζων, ‘the Boaster,’ and the Parasite is but
  a trifling character in that play, never appearing after the first

  [Footnote 28: _Hurrying servants_)--Ver. 35. On the “currentes
  servi,” see the Prologue to the Heautontimorumenos, l. 31. Ovid,
  in the Amores, B. i., El. 15, l. 17, 18, mentions a very similar
  combination of the characters of Menander’s Comedy: “So long as
  the deceitful slave, the harsh father, the roguish procuress, and
  the cozening courtesan shall endure, Menander will exist.”]

  [Footnote 29: _What, then, shall I do?_)--Ver. 46. Phædria, on
  being sent for by Thais, breaks out into those words as he enters,
  after having deliberated upon his parting with her. Both Horace
  and Persius have imitated this passage in their Satires.]

  [Footnote 30: _What! I to her?_)--Ver. 65. Donatus remarks that
  this is an abrupt manner of speaking familiarly to persons in
  anger; and that the sentences are thus to be understood, “I, go to
  her? Her, who has received him! Who has excluded me!”-- inasmuch
  as indignation loves to deal in Ellipsis and Aposiopesis.]

  [Footnote 31: _The downfall of our fortunes_)--Ver. 79. Colman
  observes, “There is an extreme elegance in this passage in the
  original; and the figurative expression is beautifully employed.”
  “Calamitas” was originally a word used in husbandry, which
  signified the destruction of growing corn; because, as Donatus
  says, “Comminuit {calamum} et segetem;”-- “it strikes down the
  blades and standing corn.”]

  [Footnote 32: _Approach this fire_)--Ver. 85. “Ignem” is generally
  supposed to be used figuratively here, and to mean “the flame of
  love.” Eugraphius, however, would understand the expression
  literally, observing that courtesans usually had near their doors
  an altar sacred to Venus, on which they daily sacrificed.]

  [Footnote 33: _Of course it’s because_)--Ver. 89. It must be
  observed that these words, commencing with “Sane, quia vero,” in
  the original, are said by Phædria not in answer to the words of
  Thais immediately preceding, but to her previous question, “Cur
  non recta introibas?” “Why didn’t you come into the house at
  once?” and that they are spoken in bitter irony.]

  [Footnote 34: _From Sunium_)--Ver. 115. This was a town situate
  near a lofty Promontory of that name in Attica. It was famous for
  a fair which was held there. “Sunium’s rocky brow” is mentioned by
  Byron in the song of the Greek Captive in the third Canto of Don

  [Footnote 35: _Set out for Caria_)--Ver. 126. This was a country
  of Asia Minor upon the sea-coast, opposite to the island of

  [Footnote 36: _Servant-maid from Æthiopia_)--Ver. 165. No doubt
  Æthiopian or negro slaves were much prized by the great, and those
  courtesans whose object it was to ape their manners.]

  [Footnote 37: _Ladies of quality_)--Ver. 168. “Reginæ,” literally
  “queens,” here means women of rank and distinction.]

  [Footnote 38: _Paid twenty minæ_)--Ver. 169. The “minæ” contained
  one hundred “drachmæ” of about 9¾_d._ each.]

  [Footnote 39: _Ah wretched me!_)--Ver. 197. Donatus remarks that
  the Poet judiciously reserves that part of the plot to be told
  here, which Thais did not relate to Phædria in the presence of
  Parmeno; whom the Poet keeps in ignorance as to the rank of the
  damsel, that he may with the more probability dare to assist
  Chærea in his attempt on her.]

  [Footnote 40: _From the dispositions of other women_)--Ver. 198.
  Donatus observes that this is one of the peculiar points of
  excellence shown by Terence, introducing common characters in a
  new manner, without departing from custom or nature; since he
  draws a good Courtesan, and yet engages the attention of the
  Spectators and amuses them. Colman has the following Note here:
  “Under the name of Thais, Menander is supposed to have drawn the
  character of his own mistress, Glycerium, and it seems he
  introduced a Courtesan of the same name into several of his
  Comedies. One Comedy was entitled ‘Thais,’ from which St. Paul
  took the sentence in his Epistle to the Corinthians, ‘Evil
  communications corrupt good manners.’” Plutarch has preserved four
  lines of the Prologue to that Comedy, in which the Poet, in a kind
  of mock-heroic manner, invokes the Muse to teach him to depict the
  character of his heroine.]

  [Footnote 41: _Not any one was there_)--Ver. 226-7. Very nearly
  the same words as these occur in the Mostellaria of Plautus,
  l. 29, 30: “Than whom, hitherto, no one of the youth of all Attica
  has been considered more temperate or equally frugal.”]

  [Footnote 42: _Nor submit to blows_)--Ver. 244. It has been
  remarked in the Notes to the Translation of Plautus that the
  Parasites had, in consequence of their state of dependence, to
  endure blows and indignities from their fellow-guests. Their
  attempts to be “ridiculi” or “drolls” were made in order to give
  some small return to their entertainers. See especially the
  character of Gelasimus in the Stichus of Plautus, and the words of
  Ergasilus in the Captivi, l. 88, 90. Diderot, as quoted by Colman,
  observes: “This is the only Scene in Terence which I remember that
  can be charged with being superfluous. Thraso has made a present
  to Thais of a young girl. Gnatho is to convey her. Going along
  with her, he amuses himself with giving the Spectators a most
  agreeable eulogium on his profession. But was that the time for
  it? Let Gnatho pay due attention on the stage to the young woman
  whom he is charged with, and let him say what he will to himself,
  I consent to it.”]

  [Footnote 43: _Fishmongers_)--Ver. 257. “Cetarii;” strictly
  speaking, “dealers in large fish.”]

  [Footnote 44: _Cooks_)--Ver. 257. The “coqui” were in the habit of
  standing in the market-place for hire by those who required their
  services. See the Pseudolus, the Aulularia, and the Mercator of
  Plautus, and the Notes to Bohn’s Translation. See also a remark on
  the knavish character of the sausage-makers in the Truculentus of
  Plautus, l. 110]

  [Footnote 45: _Become my follower_)--Ver. 262. “Sectari.” In
  allusion to the manners of the ancient Philosophers, who were wont
  to be followed by a crowd of their disciples, who were styled
  “sectatores” and “sectæ.” Gnatho intends to found a new school of
  Parasites, who shall be called the “Gnathonics,” and who, by their
  artful adulation, shall contrive to be caressed instead of being
  maltreated. Artotrogus, the Parasite in the Miles Gloriosus of
  Plautus, seems, however, to have forestalled Gnatho as the founder
  of this new school.]

  [Footnote 46: _I’m standing_)--Ver. 271. “Quid agitur?” “Statur.”
  The same joke occurs in the Pseudolus of Plautus, l. 457. “Quid
  agitur? Statur hic ad hunc modum?” “What is going on?” or “What
  are you about?” “About standing here in this fashion;” assuming an
  attitude. Colman observes that there is much the same kind of
  conceit in the “Merry Wives of Windsor.”

    FALSTAFF. “My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about.”
    PISTOL. “Two yards or more.”

  Cooke has the following note: “‘Quid agitur’ is to be supposed to
  have a single meaning as spoken by Gnatho, but Parmeno archly
  renders it ambiguous by his answer. Our two first English
  translations, that by Bernard and that by Hoole, make nothing of
  it, nor indeed any other part of their author. Echard follows
  Madame Dacier, and perceives a joke; but he does not render ‘quid,
  agitur’ as the question ought to be translated. ‘Quid agitur’
  sometimes means, ‘What are you doing?’ Sometimes, ‘How do you do?’
  ‘How are you?’ or ‘How goes the world with you?’”]

  [Footnote 47: _From the Piraeus_)--Ver. 290. The Piraeus was the
  chief harbor of Athens, at the mouth of the Cephisus, about three
  miles from the City. It was joined to the town by two walls, one
  of which was built by Themistocles, and the other by Pericles. It
  was the duty of the Athenian youth to watch here in turn by way of
  precaution against surprise by pirates or the enemy.]

  [Footnote 48: _In your little room_)--Ver. 310. Though “cellulam”
  seems to be considered by some to mean “cupboard” or “larder,” it
  is more probable that it here signifies the little room which was
  appropriated to each slave in the family for his own use.]

  [Footnote 49: _Shoulders kept down and chests well girthed_)--Ver.
  314. Ovid, in the Art of Love, B. iii., l. 274, alludes to the
  “strophium” or “girth” here referred to: “For high shoulders,
  small pads are suitable; and let the girth encircle the bosom that
  is too prominent.” Becker thinks that the “strophium” was
  different from the “fascia” or “stomacher,” mentioned in the
  Remedy of Love, l. 338: “Does a swelling bosom cover all her
  breast, let no stomacher conceal it.” From Martial we learn that
  the “strophium” was made of leather.]

  [Footnote 50: _Training for a boxer_)--Ver. 315. “Pugilem.” This
  means “robust as a boxer,” or “athlete.” These persons were
  naturally considered as the types of robustness, being dieted for
  the purpose of increasing their flesh and muscle.]

  [Footnote 51: _Complexion genuine_)--Ver. 318. “Color verns.” The
  same expression is used by Ovid, in the Art of Love, B. iii.,
  l. 164: “Et melior vero quæritur arte color:” “And by art a color is
  sought superior to the genuine one.”]

  [Footnote 52: _Full of juiciness_)--Ver. 318. “Succi plenum.”
  A similar expression occurs in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus,
  l. 787, where Periplecomenus wishes inquiry to be made for a woman
  who is “siccam, at sucedam,” “sober, but full of juice:” _i.e._
  replete with the plumpness and activity of youth.]

  [Footnote 53: _The very flower of youth_)--Ver. 319. Ovid makes
  mention of the “flos” or “bloom” of youth, Art of Love, B. ii.,
  l. 663: “And don’t you inquire what year she is now passing, nor
  under what Consulship she was born; a privilege which the rigid
  Censor possesses. And this, especially, if she has passed the
  bloom of youth, and her best years are fled, and she now pulls out
  the whitening hairs.”]

  [Footnote 54: _Be my advocate_)--Ver. 340. “Advocatus.” It must be
  remembered that this word did not among the Romans bear the same
  sense as the word “advocate” does with us. The “advocati” were the
  friends of a man who accompanied him when his cause was pleaded,
  and often performed the part of witnesses; those who assisted a
  person in a dispute or difficulty were also his “advocati,” and in
  this respect distantly resembled the “second” or “friend” of a
  party in the modern duel. In the Phormio, Hegio, Cratinus, and
  Crito are introduced as the “advocati” of Demipho. See also the
  Pænulus of Plautus, and the Notes to that Play in Bohn’s

  [Footnote 55: _An hour elapsed_)--Ver. 341. “Hora” is here used to
  signify the long time, that, in his impatience, it appeared to him
  to be.]

  [Footnote 56: _It’s all over with you,-- you’ve said your
  last_)--Ver. 347. “Ilicet” and “conclamatnm est,” are words of
  mournful import, which were used with regard to the funeral rites
  of the Romans. “Ilicet,” “you may begone,” was said aloud when the
  funeral was concluded. “Conclamare,” implied the ceremony of
  calling upon the dead person by name, before light was act to the
  funeral pile; on no answer being given, he was concluded to be
  really dead, and the pile was set fire to amid the cries of those
  present: “conclamatum est” would consequently signify that all
  hope has gone.]

  [Footnote 57: _Thais the Courtesan_)--Ver. 352. Cooke remarks
  here, somewhat hypercritically as it would seem: “Thais is not
  called ‘meretrix’ here opprobriously, but to distinguish her from
  other ladies of the same name, who were not of the same

  [Footnote 58: _A Eunuch_)--Ver. 356. Eunuchs formed part of the
  establishment of wealthy persons, who, in imitation of the Eastern
  nobles, confided the charge of their wives, daughters, or
  mistresses to them. Though Thais would have no such necessity for
  his services, her wish to imitate the “reginæ,” or “great ladies,”
  would make him a not unacceptable present. See the Addresses of
  Ovid to the Eunuch Bagoüs in the Amours, B. ii., El. 2, 3.]

  [Footnote 59: _as she is reported to be_)--Ver. 361. Donatus
  remarks this as an instance of the art of Terence, in preserving
  the probability of Chærea’s being received for the Eunuch. He
  shows hereby that he is so entirely a stranger to the family that
  he does not even know the person of Thais. It is also added that
  she has not been long in the neighborhood, and he has been on duty
  at the Piraeus. The meaning of his regret is, that, not knowing
  Thais, he will not have an opportunity of seeing the girl.]

  [Footnote 60: _Have to pay the penalty_)--Ver. 381. “In me cadetur
  faba,” literally, “the bean will be struck” or “laid about me;”
  meaning, “I shall have to smart for it.” There is considerable
  doubt what is the origin of this expression, and this doubt
  existed as early as the time of Donatus. He says that it was a
  proverb either taken from the threshing of beans with a flail by
  the countrymen; or else from the circumstance of the cooks who
  have dressed the beans, but have not moistened them sufficiently,
  being sure to have them thrown at their heads, as though for the
  purpose of softening them. Neither of these solutions seems so
  probable as that suggested by Madame Dacier, that dried beans were
  inserted in the thongs of the “scuticæ,” or “whips,” with which
  the slaves were beaten. According to others the knots in the whips
  were only called “fabæ,” from their resemblance to beans.]

  [Footnote 61: _Is it disgraceful_)--Ver. 382. Donatus remarks that
  here Terence obliquely defends the subject of the Play.]

  [Footnote 62: _The most mighty King_)--Ver. 397. It has been
  suggested that Darius III. is here alluded to, who was a
  contemporary of Menander. As however Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, is
  mentioned in this Play, there is no necessity to go out of the way
  to make Terence guilty of an anachronism. Madame Dacier suggests
  that Seleucus, king of part of Asia Minor, is meant; and as Thraso
  is called “a stranger” or “foreigner” toward the end of the Play,
  he probably was intended to be represented as a native of Asia and
  a subject of Seleucus. One of the Seleuci was also favored with
  the services of Pyrgopolinices, the “Braggart Captain” of Plantus,
  in the Miles Gloriosus. See l. 75 in that Play: “For King Seleucus
  entreated me with most earnest suit that I would raise and enlist
  recruits for him.”]

  [Footnote 63: _You’ve just hit it_)--Ver. 401. Colman here
  remarks, quoting the following passage from Shakspeare’s “Love’s
  Labor Lost,” “That that Poet was familiarly acquainted with this
  Comedy is evident from the passage, ‘Holofernes says, _Novi
  hominem tanquam te_. His humor is lofty, his discourse peremptory,
  his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his
  general behavior vain, ridiculous, and Thrasonical.’” We may
  remark that the previous words of Gnatho, though spoken with
  reference to the King, contain a reproach against the Captain’s
  boastfulness, though his vanity will not let him perceive it.]

  [Footnote 64: _In his eye_)--Ver. 401. “In oculis” is generally
  supposed to mean “as dearly in his eyes.” As, however, the Satraps
  of the East were called “the king’s eyes,” those who suppose that
  Darius is alluded to, might with some ground consider the passage
  as meaning that the king ranked him in the number of his nobles.
  See the Pænulus of Plautus, l. 693, and the Note in Bohn’s

  [Footnote 65: _You understand_)--Ver. 405. He says this at the
  very moment when he is at a loss what to say next; the Parasite
  obligingly steps in to help him out with the difficulty.]

  [Footnote 66: _Indeed, of none_)--Ver. 410. “Immo, nullorum
  arbitror, si tecum vivit.” This expression which is used “aside,”
  has two meanings, neither of which is complimentary to the
  Captain. It may mean, “he has no society if he associates with
  you,” making the Captain equivalent to nobody; or it may signify,
  “if he associates with you he’ll be sure to drive all his other
  acquaintances away.”]

  [Footnote 67: _Over the Indian elephants_)--Ver. 413. Here he
  shows his lofty position to perfection; he dares to take down the
  pride of one who commanded even the royal elephants. The Braggart
  Captain of Plautus comes into collision with the elephants
  themselves: l. 26. Artotrogus says to him, “In what a fashion it
  was you broke the fore-leg of even an elephant in India with your

  [Footnote 68: _Looking out for game?_)--Ver. 426. “Pulmentum,”
  more strictly speaking, “A nice bit.” Patrick has the following
  Note on this passage: “‘Lepus tute es, et pulmentum quæris?’
  A proverbial expression in use at that time: the proper meaning of
  it, stripped of its figure, is, ‘You are little more than a woman
  yourself, and do you want a mistress?’” We learn from Donatus and
  Vopiscus, that Livius Andronicus had used this proverb in his
  Plays before Terence. Commentators who enter into a minute
  explanation of it offer many conjectures rather curious than
  solid, and of a nature not fit to be mentioned here. Donatus seems
  to think that allusion is made to a story prevalent among the
  ancient naturalists that the hare was in the habit of changing its

  [Footnote 69: _If, indeed, she loved me_)--Ver. 446. Colman has
  the following Note upon this passage: “I am at a loss to determine
  whether it was in order to show the absurdity of the Captain or
  from inadvertence in the Poet, that Terence here makes Thraso and
  Gnatho speak in contradiction to the idea of Thais’s wonderful
  veneration for Thraso, with which they opened the Scene.”]

  [Footnote 70: _In exercises_)--Ver. 477. Reference will be found
  made to the “palæstræ,” or “places of exercise,” in the Notes to
  the Translation of Plautus.]

  [Footnote 71: _If occasion served_)--Ver. 479. The Aposiopesis in
  this line is very aptly introduced, on account of the presence of
  the female; but it admirably illustrates the abominable turpitude
  of the speaker, and perhaps in a somewhat more decent manner than
  that in which Plautus attributes a similar tendency to his
  Braggart Captain, l. 1111.]

  [Footnote 72: _Out of the very flames_)--Ver. 491. This was a
  proverb expressive of the lowest degree of meanness and infamy.
  When they burned the bodies of the dead, it was the custom of the
  ancients to throw meat and various articles of food upon the
  funeral pile, and it was considered the greatest possible affront
  to tell a person that he was capable of snatching these things out
  of the flames.]

  [Footnote 73: _If Chremes should happen to come_)--Ver. 513. This
  is the first allusion to the arrangement which ultimately causes
  the quarrel between Thais and the Captain.]

  [Footnote 74: _Had been offering a sacrifice_)--Ver. 513. It was
  the custom to sacrifice before entering on affairs of importance.
  Thus, too, Jupiter, in the Amphitryon of Plautus, l. 938, speaks
  of offering sacrifice on his safe return.]

  [Footnote 75: _Our rings were given_)--Ver. 541. It was the custom
  of parties who agreed to join in a “symbola,” or “club” or
  “picnic” entertainment, to give their rings as pledges to the “rex
  convivii,” or “getter up the feast.” Stakes were also deposited on
  making bets at races. See Ovid’s Art of Love, B. i., l. 168.]

  [Footnote 76: _To meet my death_)--Ver. 550. There is a passage in
  the Othello of Shakspeare extremely similar to this:

    --“If I were now to die,
    I were now to be most happy; for, I fear,
    My soul hath her content so absolute,
    That not another comfort, like to this,
    Succeeds in unknown fate.”]

  [Footnote 77: _In the inner apartments_)--Ver. 579. The “Gynecæa,”
  or women’s apartments, among the Greeks, always occupied the
  interior part of the house, which was most distant from the
  street, and there they were kept in great seclusion.]

  [Footnote 78: _A few novices of girls_)--Ver. 582. These “noviciæ”
  were young slaves recently bought, and intended to be trained to
  the calling of a Courtesan.]

  [Footnote 79: _At a certain painting_)--Ver. 584. See the story of
  Jupiter and Danaë, the daughter of Acrisius, king of Argos, in the
  Metamorphoses of Ovid, B. iv., l. 610. Pictures of Venus and
  Adonis, and of Jupiter and Ganymede, are mentioned in the Menæchmi
  of Plautus; l. 144, and paintings on the walls are also mentioned
  in the Mostellaria of Plantus, l. 821, where Tranio tries to
  impose upon Theuropides by pretending to point out a picture of a
  crow between two vultures.]

  [Footnote 80: _How Jove_)--Ver. 584. Donatus remarks here that
  this was “a very proper piece of furniture for the house of a
  Courtesan, giving an example of loose and mercenary love,
  calculated to excite wanton thoughts, and at the same time hinting
  to the young lover that he must make his way to the bosom of his
  mistress, like Jupiter to Danaë, in a shower of gold. Oh the
  avarice of harlots!”]

  [Footnote 81: _A poor creature of a mortal_)--Ver. 591.
  “Homuncio.” He uses this word the better to contrast his abject
  nature as a poor mortal with the majesty of Jupiter. St. Augustin
  refers to this passage. The preceding line is said by Donatus to
  be a parody on a passage by Ennius.]

  [Footnote 82: _Take this fan_)--Ver. 595. As to the fans of the
  ancients, see the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 252, and the Note to
  the passage in Bohn’s Translation. See also the Amours of Ovid, B.
  iii., El. 2, l. 38.]

  [Footnote 83: _Chattered aloud_)--Ver. 600. This line bears a
  strong resemblance to two lines found in Anstey’s new Bath Guide:

    “And how the young ladies all set up their clacks,
    All the while an old woman was rubbing their backs.”]

  [Footnote 84: _I slily looked askance_)--Ver. 601. This way of
  looking aside, “limis,” is mentioned in the Miles Gloriosus of
  Plautus, where Milphidippa tells Acroteleutium to look at the
  Captain sideways, “Aspicito limis,” l. 1217; also in the
  Bacchides, l. 1131. Those familiar with the works of Hogarth will
  readily call to mind the picture of Bedlam in the Rake’s Progress,
  whore the young woman is looking askance through her fan at the
  madman in his cell.]

  [Footnote 85: _Through the fan_)--Ver. 602. This shows that the
  fan was probably one made of thin boards, and not of feathers.]

  [Footnote 86: _So short-lived_)--Ver. 605. Colman has the
  following Note here: “Short indeed, considering the number of
  incidents, which, according to Chærea’s relation, are crowded into
  it. All the time allowed for this adventure is the short space
  between the departure of Thais and Thraso and the entrance of
  Chærea; so that all this variety of business of sleeping, bathing,
  ravishing, &c., is dispatched during the two soliloquies of
  Antipho and Chærea, and the short Scene between Chremes and
  Pythias. The truth is, that a very close adherence to the unities
  often drives the Poet into as great absurdities as the perfect
  violation of them.”]

  [Footnote 87: _Took off her golden jewels_)--Ver. 627. This was
  probably because it was contrary to the laws of Athens for a
  Courtesan to appear with gold or jewels in the street. Madame
  Dacier suggests another reason, in which there is some force,
  although it is ridiculed by Cooke. Thais may have supposed that
  the Captain, when irritated, might not have scrupled to take them
  away from her. Indeed, nothing would be more probable, than that
  he would be ready to take them by way of security for the return
  of the slave, whom he had thus, to no purpose, presented to her.
  In reference to the preceding line, we may remark that it was not
  customary among the Greeks for females of good character to appear
  at table with strangers.]

  [Footnote 88: _While I was going_)--Ver. 629. Donatus remarks that
  here the Poet artfully finds a reason to bring Phædria back again;
  as he at first with equal art sent him out of the way, to give
  probability to those incidents necessary to happen in his

  [Footnote 89: _At a distance_)--Ver. 640. “Extremâ lineâ.” There
  have been many suggestions offered for the origin of this
  figurative expression. Some suggest that it alludes to the last or
  lowest stage of the supposed ladder of love; others that it refers
  to the first or elementary line traced by the student, when
  beginning to learn the art of painting. It is however more
  generally thought to be a metaphor taken from the chariot-races in
  the Circus, where, in going round the turning-place, he who was
  nearest was said “currere in primâ lineâ;” the next, “in secundâ;”
  and so on to the last, who took the widest range, and was said to
  run “in extremâ lineâ.”]

  [Footnote 90: _In party-colored clothes_)--Ver. 683. It was the
  custom to dress Eunuchs in party-colored clothes of bright hue.
  Most probably it was from them that the “motley” descended to the
  fools and buffoons of the Middle Ages.]

  [Footnote 91: _With a speckled complexion_)--Ver. 689. “Colore
  stellionino;” probably having spots or freckles on his face like a
  “stellio” or “lizard.”]

  [Footnote 92: _Have done a service to her_)--Ver. 722. Though some
  would have “illi” here to refer to the damsel, and others again to
  Phædria, it is pretty clear that Madame Dacier is right in
  suggesting that Thais is the person meant.]

  [Footnote 93: _Casket with the tokens_)--Ver. 752. It was the
  custom with the ancients when they exposed their children, to
  leave with them some pledge or token of value, that they might
  afterward be recognized by means of them. The catastrophes of the
  Curculio, the Rudens, and other Plays of Plautus, are brought
  about by taking advantage of this circumstance. The reasons for
  using these tokens will be stated in a future Note.]

  [Footnote 94: _Is a foreigner_)--Ver. 758. And therefore the more
  unlikely to obtain redress from an Athenian tribunal. See the
  Andria, l. 811, and the Note to the passage.]

  [Footnote 95: _And his maniple_)--Ver. 775. We learn from the
  Fasti of Ovid, B. iii., l. 117-8, that in early times the Roman
  armies carried bundles or wisps of hay upon poles by way of
  standards. “A long pole used to bear the elevated wisps, from
  which circumstance the manipular soldier derives his name.” It
  appears from this passage, and from other authors, that to every
  troop of one hundred men a “manipulus” or wisp of hay (so called
  from “manum implere,” to “fill the hand,” as being “a handful”),
  was assigned as a standard, and hence in time the company itself
  obtained the name of “manipulus,” and the soldier, a member of it,
  was called “manipularis.” The “centurio,” or “leader of a
  hundred,” was the commanding officer of the “manipulus.”]

  [Footnote 96: _With a dish-clout_)--Ver. 776. “Peniculo.” This
  word meant a sponge fastened to a stick, or the tail of a fox or
  an ox, which was used as dusters or dish-clouts are at the present
  day for cleaning tables, dishes, or even shoes. See the Menæchmi
  of Plautus, ver. 77 and 391.]

  [Footnote 97: _Be behind the second rank_)--Ver. 780. “Post
  principia.” The Captain, with that discretion which is the better
  part of valor, chooses the safest place in his army. The
  “principes” originally fought in the van, fronting the enemy, and
  behind them were the “hastati” and the “triarii.” In later times
  the “hastati” faced the enemy, and the “principes” were placed in
  the middle, between them and the “triarii;” but though no longer
  occupying the front place, they still retained the name. Thraso,
  then, places himself behind the middle line.]

  [Footnote 98: _Pyrrhus used to proceed_)--Ver. 782. He attempts to
  defend his cowardice by the example of Pyrrhus, the powerful
  antagonist of the Romans, and one of the greatest generals of
  antiquity. He might have more correctly cited the example of
  Xerxes, who, according to Justin, did occupy that position in his

  [Footnote 99: _I could very much_)--Ver. 785. Although Vollbehr
  gives these words to Gnatho, yet, judging from the context, and
  the words “ex occulto,” and remembering that Thais and Chremes are
  up at the window, there is the greatest probability that these are
  really the words of Thais addressed aside to Chremes.]

  [Footnote 100: _You gallows-bird_)--Ver. 797. “Furcifer;”
  literally, “bearer of the furca.”]

  [Footnote 101: _As befits gallant soldiers_)--Ver. 814. Beaumont
  and Fletcher not improbably had this scene in view in their
  picture of the mob regiment in Philaster. The ragged regiment
  which Shakspeare places under the command of Falstaff was not very
  unlike it, nor that which owned the valiant Bombastes Furioso as
  its Captain.]

  [Footnote 102: _At Antipho’s_)--Ver. 839. Madame Dacier here
  observes that Chærea assigns very natural reasons for not having
  changed his dress; in which the art of Terence is evident, since
  the sequel of the Play makes it absolutely necessary that Chærea
  should appear again before Thais in the habit which he wore while
  in the house.]

  [Footnote 103: _Pick daintily about_)--Ver. 935. He seems here to
  reprehend the same practice against which Ovid warns his fair
  readers, in his Art of Love, B. iii. l. 75. He says, “Do not first
  take food at home,” when about to go to an entertainment.
  Westerhovius seems to think that “ligurio” means, not to “pick
  daintily,” but “to be fond of good eating;” and refers to the
  Bacchides of Plautus as portraying courtesans of the “ligurient”
  kind, and finds another specimen in Bacchis in the

  [Footnote 104: _This advantage_)--Ver. 970. Donatus here observes
  that the Poet introduces Laches, as he has Parmeno just before, in
  a state of perfect tranquillity, that their sudden change of
  feeling may be the more diverting to the Audience.]

  [Footnote 105: _For some occasion_)--Ver. 999. We learn from
  Donatus that Menander was more explicit concerning the resentment
  of Laches against Thais, on account of her having corrupted

  [Footnote 106: _As I knew_)--Ver. 1003. She enjoyed it the more,
  knowing that the old man had nothing to fear, as he had just heard
  the fiction which she had imparted to Parmeno. Donatus observes
  that the terror of Laches accounts for his sudden consent to the
  union of Chærea with Pamphila; for though he could not settle the
  matter any other way with credit, he was glad to find that his son
  had made an unequal match rather than endangered his life. Colman,
  however, observes with considerable justice: “I think Chærea
  apologizes still better for this arrangement in the Scene with
  Thais at the opening of this Act, where he says that he is
  confident of obtaining his father’s consent, provided Pamphila
  proves to be a citizen; and, indeed, the match between them is
  rather a reparation of an injury done to her than a degradation of

  [Footnote 107: _In return for that present of yours_)--Ver. 1022.
  By the present she means Chærea in the disguise of the Eunuch.]

  [Footnote 108: _Through betrayal of myself_)--Ver. 1023. Which
  betrays itself by its own squeaking.]

  [Footnote 109: _Hercules served Omphale_)--Ver. 1026. He alludes
  to the story of Omphale, Queen of Lydia, and Hercules. Being
  violently in love with her, the hero laid aside his club and
  boar’s skin, and in the habit of a woman plied the spindle and
  distaff with her maids. See a curious story of Omphale, Hercules,
  and Faunus, in the Fasti of Ovid, B. ii. l. 305. As to the
  reappearance of Thraso here, Colman has the following remarks:
  “Thraso, says Donatus, is brought back again in order to be
  admitted to some share in the good graces of Thais, that he may
  not be made unhappy at the end of the Play; but surely it is an
  essential part of the poetical justice of Comedy to expose
  coxcombs to ridicule and to punish them, though without any
  shocking severity, for their follies.”]

  [Footnote 110: _With a slipper_)--Ver. 1027. He doubtless alludes
  to the treatment of Hercules by Omphale; and, according to Lucian,
  there was a story that Omphale used to beat him with her slipper
  or sandal. On that article of dress, see the Notes to the
  Trinummus of Plautus, l. 252.]

  [Footnote 111: _To the patronage of my father_)--Ver. 1038. It was
  the custom at Athens for strangers, such as Thais was, to put
  themselves under the protection (in clientelam) of some wealthy
  citizen, who, as their patron, was bound to protect them against
  injury. An exactly parallel case to the present is found in the
  Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, l. 799, where the wealthy
  Periplecomenus says, “Habeo, eccillam, meam clientam, meretricem
  adolescentulam.” “Why, look, I have one, a dependent of mine,
  a courtesan, a very young woman.”]

  [Footnote 112: _Been rolling that stone_)--Ver. 1084. Donatus
  thinks that he alludes to the story of Sisyphus, who, in the
  Infernal Regions, was condemned eternally to roll a stone up a
  hill, which, on arriving at the summit, immediately fell to the

  [Footnote 113: _Make him over to you_)--Ver. 1086. “Vobis
  propino.” The word “propino” was properly applied to the act of
  tasting a cup of wine, and then handing it to another; he means
  that he has had his taste of the Captain, and is now ready to hand
  him over to them.]

  [Footnote 114: _He quite deserves it_)--Ver. 1087. Cooke has the
  following appropriate remark: “I can not think that this Play,
  excellent as it is in almost all other respects, concludes
  consistently with the manners of gentlemen; there is a meanness in
  Phædria and Chærea consenting to take Thraso into their society,
  with a view of fleecing him, which the Poet should have avoided.”]

       *       *       *       *       *
           *       *       *       *




  CHREMES,[1] an old gentleman, living in the country.
  MENEDEMUS,[2] an old gentleman, his neighbor.
  CLINIA,[3] son of Menedemus.
  CLITIPHO,[4] son of Chremes.
  DROMO,[5] son of Clinia.
  SYRUS,[6] servant of Clitipho.

  SOSTRATA,[7] wife of Chremes.
  ANTIPHILA,[8] a young woman beloved by Clinia.
  BACCHIS,[9] a Courtesan, the mistress of Clitipho.
  The Nurse of Antiphila.
  PHRYGIA,[10] maid-servant to Bacchis.

_Scene._--In the country, near Athens; before the houses of CHREMES


CHREMES commands his wife, when pregnant, if she is delivered of a
girl immediately to kill the child. Having given birth to a girl,
Sostrata delivers her to an old woman named Philtera to be exposed.
Instead of doing this, Philtera calls her Antiphila, and brings her up
as her own. Clinia, the son of Menedemus, falls in love with her, and
treats her as though his wife. Menedemus, on learning this, is very
angry, and by his harsh language drives away his son from home. Taking
this to heart, and in order to punish himself for his ill-timed
severity, Menedemus, though now an aged man, fatigues himself by
laboring at agricultural pursuits from morning till night. At the
period when the Play commences, Clinia has just returned to Attica,
but not daring to go to his father’s house, is entertained by
Clitipho, the son of Chremes, who is the neighbor of Menedemus.
Clitipho then sends for Antiphila, whose supposed mother has recently
died, to come and meet her lover. On the same day, Chremes learns from
Menedemus how anxious he is for his son’s return; and on hearing from
his son of the arrival of Clinia, he defers informing Menedemus of it
until the next day. Syrus, the servant who has been sent to fetch
Antiphila, also brings with him Bacchis, an extravagant Courtesan, the
mistress of Clitipho. To conceal the truth from Chremes, they
represent to him that Bacchis is the mistress of Clinia, and that
Antiphila is one of her maids. Next morning Chremes informs Menedemus
of his son’s arrival, and of the extravagant conduct of his mistress,
but begs that he will conceal from Clinia his knowledge of this fact.
Bacchis requiring ten minæ, Syrus devises a plan for obtaining the
money from Chremes, while the latter is encouraging him to think of a
project against Menedemus. Syrus tells him a story, that the mother of
Antiphila had borrowed a thousand drachmæ of Bacchis, and being dead,
the girl is left in her hands as a pledge for the money. While these
things are going on, Sostrata discovers in Antiphila her own daughter.
In order to obtain the money which Bacchis persists in demanding,
Syrus suggests to Chremes that it should be represented to Menedemus
that Bacchis is the mistress of Clitipho, and that he should be
requested to conceal her in his house for a few days; it is also
arranged that Clinia shall pretend to his father to be in love with
Antiphila, and to beg her as his wife. He is then to ask for money, as
though for the wedding, which is to be handed over to Bacchis. Chremes
does not at first approve of the plan suggested by Syrus; but he pays
down the money for which he has been informed his daughter is a pledge
in the hands of Bacchis. This, with his knowledge, is given to
Clitipho, who, as Syrus says, is to convey it to Bacchis, who is now
in the house of Menedemus, to make the latter more readily believe
that she is his mistress. Shortly after this, the plot is discovered
by Chremes, who threatens to punish Clitipho and Syrus. The Play
concludes with Chremes giving his consent to the marriage of Clinia
with Antiphila, and pardoning Clitipho, who promises to abandon the
Courtesan, and marry. Unlike the other Plays of Terence and Plautus,
the Plot of this Play extends over two days.


It is from the Greek of Menander. Performed at the Megalensian Games;
Lucius Cornelius Lentulus and Lucius Valerius Flaccus being Curule
Ædiles. Ambivius Turpio performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of
Claudius, composed the music. The first time it was performed to the
music of treble and bass flutes; the second time, of two treble
flutes. It was acted three times; Marcus Juventius and Titus
Sempronius being Consuls.[11]




A severe father compels his son Clinia, in love with Antiphila, to go
abroad to the wars; and repenting of what has been done, torments
himself in mind. Afterward, when he has returned, unknown to his
father, he is entertained at the house of Clitipho. The latter is in
love with Bacchis, a Courtesan. When Clinia sends for his much-loved
Antiphila, Bacchis comes, as though his mistress, and Antiphila,
wearing the garb of her servant; this is done in order that Clitipho
may conceal it from his father. He, through the stratagems of Syrus,
gets ten minæ from the old man for the Courtesan. Antiphila is
discovered to be the sister of Clitipho. Clinia receives her, {and}
Clitipho, another woman, for his wife.


Lest it should be a matter of surprise to any one of you, why the Poet
has assigned to an old man[12] a part that belongs to the young, that
I will first explain to you;[13] and then, the reason for my coming I
will disclose. An entire Play from an entire Greek one,[14] the
Heautontimorumenos, I am to-day about to represent, which from a
two-fold plot[15] has been made but one. I have shown that it is new,
and what it is: next I would mention who it was that wrote it, and
whose in Greek it is, if I did not think that the greater part of you
are aware. Now, for what reason I have learned this part, in a few
words I will explain. {The Poet} intended me to be a Pleader,[16] not
the Speaker of a Prologue; your decision he asks, {and} has appointed
me the advocate; if this advocate can avail as much by his oral powers
as he has excelled in inventing happily, who composed this speech
which I am about to recite. For as to malevolent rumors spreading
abroad that he has mixed together many Greek Plays while writing a few
Latin ones, he does not deny that this is the case, and that he does
not repent {of so doing}; and he affirms that he will do so again. He
has the example of good {Poets}; after which example he thinks it is
allowable for him to do what they have done. Then, as to a malevolent
old Poet[17] saying that he has suddenly applied himself to dramatic
pursuits, relying on the genius of his friends,[18] {and} not his own
natural abilities; {on that} your judgment, your opinion, will
prevail. Wherefore I do entreat you all, that the suggestions of our
antagonists may not avail more than {those} of our favorers. Do you be
favorable; grant the means of prospering to those who afford you the
means of being spectators of new Plays; {those, I mean}, without
faults: that he may not suppose this said in his behalf who lately
made the public give way to a slave as he ran along in the street;[19]
why should he take a madman’s part? About his faults he will say more
when he brings out some other new ones, unless he puts an end to his
caviling. Attend with favorable feelings; grant me the opportunity
that I may be allowed to act a quiet Play[20] in silence; that the
servant everlastingly running about, the angry old man, the gluttonous
parasite, the impudent sharper, {and} the greedy procurer, may not
have always to be performed by me with the utmost expense of voice,
{and} the greatest exertion. For my sake come to the conclusion that
this request is fair, that so some portion of my labor may be
abridged. For nowadays, those who write new {Plays} do not spare an
aged man. If there is any {piece} requiring exertion, they come
running to me; but if it is a light one, it is taken to another
Company. In the present one the style is pure. Do you make proof,
what, in each character,[21] my ability can effect. If I have never
greedily set a {high} price upon my skill, and have come to the
conclusion that this is my greatest gain, as far as possible to be
subservient to your convenience, establish in me a precedent, that the
young may be anxious rather to please you than themselves.



  _Enter CHREMES, and MENEDEMUS with a spade in his hand, who falls to

CHREM. Although this acquaintanceship between us is of very recent
date, from the time in fact of your purchasing an estate here in the
neighborhood, yet either your good qualities, or our being neighbors
(which I take to be a sort of friendship), induces me to inform you,
frankly and familiarly, that you appear to me to labor beyond your
years, and beyond what your affairs require. For, in the name of Gods
and men, what would you have? What can be your aim? You are, as I
conjecture, sixty years of age, or more. No man in these parts has a
better or a more valuable estate, no one more servants; and yet you
discharge their duties just as diligently as if there were none at
all. However early in the morning I go out, and however late in the
evening I return home, I see you either digging, or plowing, or doing
something, in fact, in the fields. You take respite not an instant,
and are quite regardless of yourself. I am very sure that this is not
done for your amusement. But really I am vexed how little work is done
here.[22] If you were to employ the time you spend in laboring
yourself, in keeping your servants at work, you would profit much

MEN. Have you so much leisure, Chremes, from your own affairs, that
you can attend to those of others-- those which don’t concern you?

CHREM. I am a man,[23] {and} nothing that concerns a man do I deem a
matter of indifference to me. Suppose that I wish either to advise
{you} in this matter, or to be informed {myself}: if {what you do} is
right, that I may do the same; if it is not, {then} that I may
dissuade you.

MEN. It’s requisite for me {to do} so; do you as it is necessary for
you to do.

CHREM. Is it requisite for any person to torment himself?

MEN. {It is} for me.

CHREM. If you have any affliction, I could wish it otherwise. But
prithee, what sorrow is this {of yours}? How have you deserved so
{ill} of yourself?

MEN. Alas! alas! (_He begins to weep._)

CHREM. Do not weep, but make me acquainted with it, whatever it is. Do
not be reserved; fear nothing; trust me, I tell you. Either by
consolation, or by counsel, or by any means, I will aid you.

MEN. Do you wish to know this matter?

CHREM. Yes, and for the reason I mentioned to you.

MEN. I will tell you.

CHREM. But still, in the mean time, lay down that rake; don’t fatigue

MEN. By no means.

CHREM. What can be your object? (_Tries to take the rake from him._)

MEN. Do leave me alone, that I may give myself no respite from my

CHREM. I will not allow it, I tell you. (_Taking the rake from him._)

MEN. Ah! that’s not fair.

CHREM. (_poising the rake._) Whew! such a heavy one as this, pray!

MEN. Such are my deserts.

CHREM. Now speak. (_Laying down the rake._)

MEN. I have an only son,-- a young man,-- alas! why did I say
--“I have?”-- rather {I should say}, “I had” {one}, Chremes:
--whether I have him now, or not, is uncertain.

CHREM. Why so?

MEN. You shall know:-- There is a poor old woman here, a stranger from
Corinth:-- her daughter, a young woman, he fell in love with, insomuch
that he almost regarded her as his wife; all this {took place} unknown
to me. When I discovered the matter, I began to reprove him, not with
gentleness, nor in the way suited to the love-sick mind of a youth,
but with violence, and after the usual method of fathers. I was daily
reproaching him,-- “Look you, do you expect to be allowed any longer
to act thus, myself, your father, being alive; to be keeping a
mistress pretty much as though your wife? You are mistaken, Clinia,
and you don’t know me, if you fancy that. I am willing that you should
be called my {son}, just as long as you do what becomes you; but if
you do not do so, I shall find out how it becomes me to act toward
you. This arises from nothing, in fact, but too much idleness. At your
time of life, I did not devote my time to dalliance, but, in
consequence of my poverty, departed hence for Asia, and there acquired
in arms both riches and military glory.” At length the matter came to
this,-- the youth, from hearing the same things so often, and with
such severity, was overcome. He supposed that I, through age and
affection, had more judgment and foresight for him than himself. He
went off to Asia, Chremes, to serve under the king.

CHREM. What is it you say?

MEN. He departed without my knowledge-- {and} has been gone these
three months.

CHREM. Both are to be blamed-- although {I} still {think} this step
shows an ingenuous and enterprising disposition.

MEN. When I learned {this} from those who were in the secret,
I returned home sad, and with feelings almost overwhelmed and
distracted through grief. I sit down; my servants run to me; they take
off my shoes:[24] then some make all haste to spread the couches,[25]
and to prepare a repast; each according to his ability did zealously
{what he could}, in order to alleviate my sorrow. When I observed
this, I began to reflect thus:-- “What! are so many persons anxious
for my sake alone, to pleasure myself only? Are so many female
servants to provide me with dress?[26] Shall I alone keep up such an
expensive establishment, while my only son, who ought equally, or even
more so, to enjoy these things-- inasmuch as his age is better suited
for the enjoyment of them-- him, poor {youth}, have I driven away from
home by my severity! Were I to do this, really I should deem myself
deserving of any calamity. But so long as he leads this life of
penury, banished from his country through my severity, I will revenge
his wrongs upon myself, toiling, making money, saving, and laying up
for him.” At once I set about it; I left nothing in the house, neither
movables[27] nor clothing; every thing I scraped together. Slaves,
male and female, except those who could easily pay for their keep by
working in the country, all of them I set up to auction and sold. I at
once put up a bill to sell my house.[28] I collected somewhere about
fifteen talents, and purchased this farm; here I fatigue myself.
I have come to this conclusion, Chremes, that I do my son a less
injury, while I am unhappy; and that it is not right for me to enjoy
any pleasure here, until such time as he returns home safe to share
{it} with me.

CHREM. I believe you to be of an affectionate disposition toward your
children,[29] and him to be an obedient {son}, if one were to manage
him rightly or prudently. But neither did you understand him
sufficiently well, nor he you-- a thing that happens where persons
don’t live on terms of frankness together. You never showed him how
highly you valued him, nor did he {ever} dare put that confidence in
you which is due to a father. Had this been done, these {troubles}
would never have befallen you.

MEN. Such is the fact, I confess; the greatest fault is on my side.

CHREM. But still, Menedemus, I hope for the best, and I trust that
he’ll be here safe before long.

MEN. Oh that the Gods would grant it!

CHREM. They will do {so}. Now, if it is convenient {to you}-- the
festival of Bacchus[30] is being kept here to-day-- I wish you to give
me your company.

MEN. I can not.

CHREM. Why not? Do, pray, spare yourself a little while. Your absent
son would wish you do so.

MEN. It is not right that I, who have driven him hence to endure
hardships, should now shun them myself.

CHREM. Is such your determination?

MEN. It is.

CHREM. {Then} kindly fare you well.

MEN. And you {the same}. (_Goes into his house._)


  _CHREMES, alone._

CHREM. (_to himself._) He has forced tears from me, and I do pity him.
But as the day is far gone, I must remind Phania, this neighbor {of
mine}, to come to dinner. I’ll go see whether he is at home. (_Goes to
PHANIA’S door, makes the inquiry, and returns._) There was no occasion
for me to remind him: they tell me he has been some time already at my
house; it’s I myself am making my guests wait. I’ll go in-doors
immediately. But what means the noise at the door of my house?
I wonder who’s coming out! I’ll step aside here. (_He stands aside._)


  _Enter CLITIPHO, from the house of CHREMES._

CLIT. (_at the door, to CLINIA within._) There is nothing, Clinia, for
you to fear as yet: they have not been long by any means: and I am
sure that she will be with you presently along with the messenger. Do
at once dismiss these causeless apprehensions which are tormenting

CHREM. (_apart._) Who is my son talking to? (_Makes his appearance._)

CLIT. (_to himself._) Here comes my father, whom I wished {to see}:
I’ll accost him. Father, you have met me opportunely.

CHREM. What is the matter?

CLIT. Do you know this neighbor of ours, Menedemus?

CHREM. Very well.

CLIT. Do you know that he has a son?

CHREM. I have heard that he has; in Asia.

CLIT. He is not {in Asia}, father; he is at our house.

CHREM. What is it you say?

CLIT. Upon his arrival, after he had {just} landed from the ship,
I immediately brought him to dine with us; for from our very childhood
upward I have always been on intimate terms with him.

CHREM. You announce {to me} a great pleasure. How much I wish that
Menedemus had accepted my invitation to make one of us: that at my
house I might have been the first to surprise him, when not expecting
it, with this delight! --and even yet there’s time enough----

CLIT. Take care what you do; there is no necessity, father, {for doing

CHREM. For what reason?

CLIT. Why, because he is as yet undetermined what to do with himself.
He is but just arrived. He fears every thing; his father’s
displeasure, and how his mistress may be disposed toward him. He loves
her to distraction: on her account, this trouble and going abroad took

CHREM. I know it.

CLIT. He has just sent a servant into the city to her, and I {ordered}
our Syrus {to go} with him.

CHREM. What does {Clinia} say?

CLIT. What {does} he {say}? That he is wretched.

CHREM. Wretched? Whom could we less suppose so? What is there wanting
for him to enjoy every thing that among men, in fact, are esteemed as
blessings? Parents, a country in prosperity, friends, family,
relations, riches? And yet, {all} these are just according to the
disposition of him who possesses them. To him who knows how to use
them, they are blessings; to him who does not use them rightly, {they
are} evils.

CLIT. Aye, but he always was a morose old man; and now I dread nothing
more, father, than that in his displeasure he’ll be doing something to
him more than is justifiable.

CHREM. What, he? (_Aside._) But I’ll restrain myself; for that the
other one should be in fear of {his father} is of service to him.[31]

CLIT. What is it you are saying to yourself!

CHREM. I’ll tell you. However the case stood, {Clinia} ought still to
have remained {at home}. Perhaps his father was a little stricter than
he liked: he should have put up with it. For whom ought he to bear
with, if he would not bear with his own father? Was it reasonable that
he should live after his {son’s} humor, or {his son} after his? And as
to charging him with harshness, it is not the fact. For the severities
of fathers are generally of one character, those {I mean} who are in
some degree reasonable men.[32] They do not wish their sons to be
always wenching; they do not wish them to be always carousing; they
give a limited allowance; and yet all this tends to virtuous conduct.
But when the mind, Clitipho, has once enslaved itself by vicious
appetites, it must of necessity follow similar pursuits. This is a
wise maxim, “to take warning from others of what may be to your own

CLIT. I believe so.

CHREM. I’ll now go hence in-doors, to see what we have for dinner. Do
you, seeing what is the time of day, mind and take care not to be any
where out of the way. (_Goes into his house, and exit CLITIPHO._)



  _Enter CLITIPHO._

CLIT. (_to himself._) What partial judges are all fathers in regard to
all {of us} young men, in thinking it reasonable for us to become old
men all at once from boys, and not to participate in those things
which youth is {naturally} inclined to. They regulate us by their own
desires,-- such as they now are,-- not as they once were. If ever I
have a son, he certainly shall find in me an indulgent father. For the
means both of knowing and of pardoning[33] his faults shall be found
{by me}; not like mine, who by means of another person, discloses to
me his own sentiments. I’m plagued to death,-- when he drinks a little
more {than usual}, what pranks of his own he does relate to me! Now he
says, “Take warning from others of what may be to your advantage.” How
shrewd! He certainly does not know how deaf I am at the moment when
he’s telling his stories. Just now, the words of my mistress make more
impression upon me. “Give me {this}, and bring me {that},” {she
cries}; I have nothing to say to her in answer, and no one is there
more wretched than myself. But this Clinia, although he, as well, has
cares enough of his own, still has {a mistress} of virtuous and modest
breeding, and a stranger to the arts of a courtesan. Mine is a
craving, saucy, haughty, extravagant {creature}, full of lofty airs.
Then {all} that I have to give her is-- fair words[34]-- for I make it
a point not to tell her that I have nothing. This misfortune I met
with not long since, nor does my father as yet know {any thing of the
matter}. (_Exit._


  _Enter CLINIA from the house of CHREMES._

CLIN. (_to himself._) If my love-affairs had been prosperous for me,
I am sure she would have been here by this; but I’m afraid that the
damsel has been led astray here in my absence. Many things combine to
strengthen this opinion in my mind; opportunity, the place, her age,
a worthless mother, under whose control she is, with whom nothing but
gain is precious.

  _Enter CLITIPHO._

CLIT. Clinia!

CLIN. Alas! wretched me!

CLIT. Do, pray, take care that no one coming out of your father’s
house sees you here by accident.

CLIN. I will do {so}; but really my mind presages I know not what

CLIT. Do you persist in making up your mind upon that, before you know
what is the fact?

CLIN. Had no misfortune happened, she would have been here by this.

CLIT. She’ll be here presently.

CLIN. When will that presently be?

CLIT. You don’t consider that it is a great way from here.[35]
Besides, you know the ways of women, while they are bestirring
themselves, {and} while they are making preparations a {whole} year
passes by.

CLIN. O Clitipho, I’m afraid--

CLIT. Take courage. Look, here comes Dromo, together with Syrus: they
are close at hand. (_They stand aside._)


  _Enter SYRUS and DROMO, conversing at a distance._

SYR. Do you say so?

DRO. ’Tis as {I told you},-- but in the mean time, while we’ve been
carrying on our discourse, these women have been left behind.

CLIT. (_apart._) Don’t you hear, Clinia? Your mistress is close at

CLIN. (_apart._) Why yes, I do hear now at last, and I see and revive,

DRO. No wonder; they are so encumbered; they are bringing a troop of
female attendants[36] with them.

CLIN. (_apart._) I’m undone! Whence come these female attendants?

CLIT. (_apart._) Do you ask me?

SYR. We ought not to have left them; what a quantity of things they
are bringing!

CLIN. (_apart._) Ah me!

SYR. Jewels of gold, {and} clothes; it’s growing late too, and they
don’t know the way. It was very foolish of us {to leave them}. Just go
back, Dromo, and meet them. Make haste-- why do you delay? (_Exit

CLIN. (_apart._) Woe unto wretched me! --from what high hopes am I

CLIT. (_apart._) What’s the matter? Why, what is it that troubles you?

CLIN. (_apart._) Do you ask what it is? Why, don’t you see?
Attendants, jewels of gold, {and} clothes, her {too}, whom I left here
with {only} one little servant girl. Whence do you suppose that they

CLIT. (_apart._) Oh! now at last I understand you.

SYR. (_to himself._) Good Gods! what a multitude there is! Our house
will hardly hold them, I’m sure. How much they will eat! how much they
will drink! what will there be more wretched than our old gentleman?
(_Catching sight of CLINIA and CLITIPHO._) But look, I espy the
persons I was wanting.

CLIN. (_apart._) Oh Jupiter! Why, where is fidelity {gone}? While I,
distractedly wandering, have abandoned my country for your sake, you,
in the mean time, Antiphila, have been enriching yourself, and have
forsaken me in these troubles, {you} for whose sake I am in extreme
disgrace, and have been disobedient to my father; on whose account I
am now ashamed and grieved, that he who used to lecture me about the
manners of these women, advised me in vain, and was not able to wean
me away from her:-- which, however, I shall now do; {whereas} when it
might have been advantageous to me {to do so}, I was unwilling. There
is no being more wretched than I.

SYR. (_to himself._) He certainly has been misled by our words which
we have been speaking here. (_Aloud._) Clinia, you imagine your
mistress quite different from what she really is. For both her mode of
life is the same, and her disposition toward you is the same as it
{always} was; so far as we could form a judgment from the
circumstances themselves.

CLIN. How so, prithee? For nothing in the world could I rather wish
for just now, than that I have suspected this without reason.

SYR. This, in the first place, {then} (that you may not be ignorant of
any thing that concerns her); the old woman, who was formerly said to
be her mother, was not {so}. --She is dead: this I overheard by
accident from her, as we came along, while she was telling the other

CLIT. Pray, who is the other one?

SYR. Stay; what I have begun I wish first to relate. Clitipho; I shall
come to that afterward.

CLIT. Make haste, {then}.

SYR. First of all, then, when we came to the house, Dromo knocked at
the door; a certain old woman came out; when she opened the door, he
directly rushed in; I followed; the old woman bolted the door, {and}
returned to her wool. On this occasion might be known, Clinia, or else
on none, in what pursuits she passed her life during your absence;
when we {thus} came upon a female unexpectedly. For this circumstance
then gave {us an} opportunity of judging of the course of her daily
life; {a thing} which especially discovers what is the disposition of
each individual. We found her industriously plying at the web; plainly
clad in a mourning dress,[37] on account of this old woman, I suppose,
who was {lately} dead; without golden ornaments, dressed, besides,
just like those who {only} dress for themselves, {and} patched up with
no worthless woman’s trumpery.[38] Her hair was loose, long, {and}
thrown back negligently about her temples. (_To CLINIA._) Do you hold
your peace.[39]

CLIN. My {dear} Syrus, do not without cause throw me into ecstasies,
I beseech you.

SYR. The old woman was spinning the woof:[40] there was one little
servant girl besides;-- she was weaving[41] together with them,
covered with patched clothes, slovenly, {and} dirty with filthiness.

CLIT. If this is true, Clinia, as I believe it is, who is there more
fortunate than you? Do you mark this {girl} whom he speaks of, as
dirty and drabbish? This, too, is a strong indication that the
mistress is out of harm’s way, when her confidant is in such ill
plight; for it is a rule with those who wish to gain access to the
mistress, first to bribe the maid.

CLIN. (_to SYRUS._) Go on, I beseech you; and beware of endeavoring to
purchase favor by telling an untruth. What did she say, when you
mentioned me?

SYR. When we told her that you had returned, and had requested her to
come to you, the damsel instantly put away the web, and covered her
face all over with tears; so that you might easily perceive that it
really was caused by her affection for you.

CLIN. So may the Deities bless me, I know not where I am for joy!
I was so alarmed {before}.

CLIT. But I was sure that there was no reason, Clinia. Come now,
Syrus, tell {me}, in my turn, who this other lady is.

SYR. Your Bacchis, {whom} we are bringing.[42]

CLIT. Ha! What! Bacchis? How now, you rascal! whither are you bringing

SYR. Whither {am I bringing} her? To our house, to be sure.

CLIT. What! to my father’s?

SYR. To the very same.

CLIT. Oh, the audacious impudence of the fellow!

SYR. Hark’ye, no great and memorable action is done without some risk.

CLIT. Look {now}; are you seeking to gain credit for yourself, at the
hazard of my character, you rascal, in a point, where, if you only
make the slightest slip, I am ruined? What would you be doing with

SYR. But still--

CLIT. Why “still?”

SYR. If you’ll give me leave, I’ll tell you.

CLIN. Do give him leave.

CLIT. I give him leave {then}.

SYR. This affair is now just as though when--

CLIT. Plague on it, what roundabout story is he beginning to tell me?

CLIN. Syrus, he says what’s right-- do omit {digressions}; come to the

SYR. Really I can not hold my tongue. Clitipho, you are every way
unjust, and can not possibly be endured.

CLIN. Upon my faith, he ought to have a hearing. (_To CLITIPHO._) Do
be silent.

SYR. You wish to indulge in your amours; you wish to possess {your
mistress}; you wish that to be procured wherewithal to make her
presents; in getting {this}, you do not wish the risk to be your own.
You are not wise to no purpose,-- if indeed it is being wise to wish
for that which can not happen. Either the one must be had with the
other, or the one must be let alone with the other. Now, of these two
alternatives, consider which one you would prefer; although this
project which I have formed, I know to be both a wise and a safe one.
For there is an opportunity for your mistress to be with you at your
father’s house, without fear {of a discovery}; besides, by these
self-same means, I shall find the money which you have promised her--
to effect which, you have already made my ears deaf with entreating
me. What would you have more?

CLIT. If, indeed, this could be brought about--

SYR. If, indeed? You shall know {it} by experience.

CLIT. Well, well, disclose this project of yours. What is it?

SYR. We will pretend that your mistress is his (_pointing to CLINIA_).

CLIT. Very fine! Tell me, what is he to do with his own? Is she, too,
to be called his, as if one was not a sufficient discredit?

SYR. No-- she shall be taken to your mother.

CLIT. Why there?

SYR. It would be tedious, Clitipho, if I were to tell you why I do so;
I have a good reason.

CLIT. Stuff! I see no grounds sufficiently solid why it should be for
my advantage to incur this risk.[43] (_Turning as if going._)

SYR. Stay; if there is this risk, I have another {project}, which you
must both confess to be free from danger.

CLIT. Find out something of that description, I beseech you.

SYR. By all means; I’ll go meet her, {and} tell her to return home.

CLIT. Ha! what was it you said?

SYR. I’ll rid you at once of all fears, so that you may sleep at your
ease upon either ear.[44]

CLIT. What am I to do now?

CLIN. What are you {to do}? The goods that--

CLIT. Only tell me the truth, Syrus.

SYR. Dispatch quickly; you’ll be wishing just now too late and in
vain. (_Going._)

CLIN. The Gods provide, enjoy while {yet} you may; for you know not--

CLIT. (_calling._) Syrus, I say!

SYR. (_moving on._) Go on; I shall still do that {which I said}.[45]

CLIN. Whether you may have another opportunity hereafter or ever

CLIT. I’faith, that’s true. (_Calling._) Syrus, Syrus, I say, harkye,
harkye, Syrus!

SYR. (_aside._) He warms {a little}. (_To CLITIPHO._) What is it you

CLIT. Come back, come back.

SYR. (_coming back to him._) Here I am; tell me what you would have.
You’ll be presently saying that this, too, doesn’t please you.

CLIT. Nay, Syrus, I commit myself, and my love, and {my} reputation
{entirely} to you: you are the seducer; take care you don’t deserve
any blame.

SYR. It is ridiculous for you to give me that caution, Clitipho, as if
my interest was less at stake in this affair than yours. Here, if any
ill luck should perchance befall us, words will be in readiness for
you, {but} for this individual blows (_pointing to himself._) For that
reason, this matter is by no means to be neglected on my part: but do
prevail upon him (_pointing to CLINIA_) to pretend that she is his own

CLIN. You may rest assured I’ll do so. The matter has now come to that
pass, that it is a case of necessity.

CLIT. ’Tis with good reason that I love you, Clinia.

CLIN. But she mustn’t be tripping at all.

SYR. She is thoroughly tutored in her part.

CLIT. But this I wonder at, how you could so easily prevail upon her,
who is wont to treat such {great people}[46] with scorn.

SYR. I came to her at the {proper} moment, which in all things is of
the first importance: for there I found a certain wretched captain
soliciting her favors: she artfully managed the man, so as to inflame
his eager passions by denial; and this, too, that it might be
especially pleasing to yourself. But hark you, take care, will you,
not to be imprudently impetuous. You know your father, how
quick-sighted he is in these matters; and I know you, how unable you
are to command yourself. Keep clear of words of double meaning,[47]
your sidelong looks, sighing, hemming, coughing, tittering.

CLIT. You shall have to commend {me}.

SYR. Take care of that, please.

CLIT. You yourself shall be surprised at me.

SYR. But how quickly the ladies have come up with us!

CLIT. Where are they? (_SYRUS stands before him._) Why do you hold me

SYR. For the present she is nothing to you.

CLIT. I know it, before my father; but now in the mean time--

SYR. Not a bit the more.

CLIT. Do let me.

SYR. I will not let you, I tell you.

CLIT. But only for a moment, pray.

SYR. I forbid it.

CLIT. Only to salute her.

SYR. If you are wise, get you gone.

CLIT. I’m off. {But} what’s he {to do}? (_Pointing at CLINIA._)

SYR. He will stay {here}.

CLIT. O happy man!

SYR. Take yourself off. (_Exit CLITIPHO._


  _Enter BACCHIS and ANTIPHILA at a distance._

BACCHIS. Upon my word, my {dear} Antiphila, I commend you, and think
you fortunate in having made it your study that your manners should be
conformable to those good looks {of yours}: and so may the Gods bless
me, I do not at all wonder if every man is in love with you. For your
discourse has been a proof to me what kind of disposition you possess.
And when now I reflect in my mind upon your way of life, and {that} of
all of you, in fact, who keep the public at a distance from
yourselves, it is not surprising both that you are of that
{disposition}, and that we are not; for it is your interest to be
virtuous; those, with whom we are acquainted, will not allow us {to be
so}. For {our} lovers, allured {merely} by our beauty, court us {for
that}; when that has faded, they transfer their affections elsewhere;
{and} unless we have made provision in the mean time for the future,
we live in destitution. {Now} with you, when you have once resolved to
pass your life with one man whose manners are especially kindred to
your own, those persons[48] become attached to you. By this kindly
feeling, you are truly devoted to each other; and no calamity can ever
possibly interrupt your love.

ANTI. I know nothing about other women: I’m sure that I have, indeed,
always used every endeavor to derive my own happiness from his

CLIN. (_apart, overhearing ANTIPHILA._) Ah! ’tis for that reason, my
Antiphila, that you alone have now caused me to return to my native
country; for while I was absent from you, all {other} hardships which
I encountered were light to me, save the being deprived of you.

SYR. (_apart._) I believe it.

CLIN. (_apart._) Syrus, I can scarce endure it![49] Wretch that I am,
that I should not be allowed to possess one of such a disposition at
my own discretion!

SYR. Nay, so far as I understand your father, he will for a long time
yet be giving you a hard task.

BACCH. Why, who is that young man that’s looking at us?

ANTI. (_seeing CLINIA._) Ah! do support me, I entreat you!

BACCH. Prithee, what is the matter with you?

ANTI. I shall die, alas! I shall die!

BACCH. Why are you {thus} surprised, Antiphila?

ANTI. Is it Clinia that I see, or not?

BACCH. Whom do you see?

CLIN. (_running to embrace ANTIPHILA._) Blessings on you, my life!

ANTI. Oh my long-wished for Clinia, blessings on you!

CLIN. How fare you, {my love}?

ANTI. I’m overjoyed that you have returned safe.

CLIN. And do I embrace you, Antiphila, {so} passionately longed for by
my soul?

SYR. Go in-doors; for the old gentleman has been waiting for us some
time. (_They go into the house of CHREMES._)



  _Enter CHREMES from his house._

CHREM. (_to himself._) It is now daybreak.[50] {Why} do I delay to
knock at my neighbor’s door, that he may learn from me the first that
his son has returned? Although I am aware that the youth would not
prefer this. But when I see him tormenting himself {so} miserably
about his absence, can I conceal a joy so unhoped for, {especially}
when there can be no danger to him from the discovery? I will not do
{so}; but as far as I can I will assist the old man. As I see my son
aiding his friend and year’s-mate, and acting as his confidant in his
concerns, it is {but} right that we old men as well should assist each

  _Enter MENEDEMUS from his house._

MEN. (_to himself._) Assuredly I was either born with a disposition
peculiarly suited for misery, or else that {saying} which I hear
commonly repeated, that “time assuages human sorrow,” is false. For
really my sorrow about my son increases daily; and the longer he is
away from me, the more anxiously do I wish for him, and the more I
miss him.

CHREM. (_apart._) But I see him coming out of his house; I’ll go speak
to him. (_Aloud._) Menedemus, good-morrow; I bring you news, which you
would especially desire to be imparted.

MEN. Pray, have you heard any thing about my son, Chremes?

CHREM. He’s alive, and well.

MEN. Why, where is he, pray?

CHREM. Here, at my house, at home.

MEN. My son?

CHREM. Such is the fact.

MEN. Come {home}?

CHREM. Certainly.

MEN. My son, Clinia, come {home}?

CHREM. I say {so}.

MEN. Let us go. Lead me to him, I beg of you.

CHREM. He does not wish you yet to know of his return, and he shuns
your presence; he’s afraid that, on account of that fault, your former
severity may even be increased.

MEN. Did you not tell him how I was affected?[51]


MEN. For what reason, Chremes?

CHREM. Because there you would judge extremely ill both for yourself
and for him, if you were to show yourself of a spirit so weak and

MEN. I can not {help it}: enough already, enough, have I proved a
rigorous father.

CHREM. Ah Menedemus! you are too precipitate in either extreme, either
with profuseness or with parsimony too great. Into the same error will
you fall from the one side as from the other. In the first place,
formerly, rather than allow your son to visit a young woman, who was
then content with a very little, and to whom any thing was acceptable,
you frightened him away from here. After that, she began, quite
against her inclination, to seek a subsistence upon the town. Now,
when she can not be supported without a great expense, you are ready
to give any thing. For, that you may know how perfectly she is trained
to extravagance, in the first place, she has already brought with her
more than ten female attendants, {all} laden with clothes and jewels
of gold; if a satrap[52] had been her admirer, he never could support
her expenses, much less can you.

MEN. Is she at your house?

CHREM. Is she, do you ask? I have felt it; for I have given her and
her retinue one dinner; had I to give them another such, it would be
all over {with me}; for, to pass by other matters, what a quantity of
wine she did consume for me in tasting only,[53] saying thus, “This
{wine} is {too} acid,[54] respected sir,[55] do please look for
something more mellow.” I opened all the casks, all the vessels;[56]
she kept all on the stir: and this {but} a single night. What do you
suppose will become of you when they are constantly preying upon you?
So may the Gods prosper me, Menedemus, I do pity your lot.

MEN. Let him do what he will; let him take, waste, {and} squander; I’m
determined to endure it, so long as I only have him with me.

CHREM. If it is your determination thus to act, I hold it to be of
very great moment that he should not be aware that with a full
knowledge you grant him this.

MEN. What shall I do?

CHREM. Any thing, rather than what you are thinking of; supply him
{with money} through some other person; suffer yourself to be imposed
upon by the artifices of his servant: although I have smelt out this
too, that they are about that, {and} are secretly planning it among
them. Syrus is {always} whispering with that {servant} of yours;[57]
they impart their plans to the young men; and it were better for you
to lose a talent this way, than a mina the other. The money is not the
question now, but this-- in what way we can supply it to the young man
with the least danger. For if he once knows the state of your
feelings, that you would sooner part with your life, and sooner with
all your money, than allow your son to leave you; whew! what an
inlet[58] will you be opening for his debauchery! aye, and so much so,
that henceforth to live can not be desirable to you. For we all become
worse through indulgence. Whatever comes into his head, he’ll be
wishing for; nor will he reflect whether that which he desires is
right or wrong. You will not be able to endure your estate and him
going to ruin. You will refuse to supply him: he will immediately have
recourse to the means by which he finds that he has the greatest hold
upon you, {and} threaten that he will immediately leave you.

MEN. You seem to speak the truth, and just what is the fact.

CHREM. I’faith, I have not been sensible of sleep this night with my
eyes,[59] for thinking of this-- how to restore your son to you.

MEN. (_taking his hand._) Give {me your} right hand. I request that
you will still act in a like manner, Chremes.

CHREM. I am ready {to serve you}.

MEN. Do you know what it is I now want you to do?

CHREM. Tell {me}.

MEN. As you have perceived that they are laying a plan to deceive me,
that they may hasten to complete it. I long to give him whatever he
wants: I am now longing to behold him.

CHREM. I’ll lend my endeavors. This little business is in my way. Our
neighbors Simus and Crito are disputing here about boundaries; they
have chosen me for arbitrator. I’ll go and tell them that I can not
possibly give them my attention to-day as I had stated I would. I’ll
be here immediately.

MEN. Pray do. (_To himself._) Ye Gods, by our trust in you! That the
nature of all men should be so constituted, that they can see and
judge of other men’s affairs better than their own! Is it because in
our own concerns we are biased either with joy or grief in too great a
degree? How much wiser now is he for me, than I {have been} for

  _Re-enter CHREMES._

CHREM. I have disengaged myself, that I might lend you my services at
my leisure. Syrus must be found and instructed by me {in this
business}. Some one, I know not who, is coming out of my house: do you
step hence home, that they may not perceive[60] that we are conferring
together. (_MENEDEMUS goes into his house._)


  _Enter SYRUS from the house of CHREMES._

SYR. (_aloud to himself._) Run to and fro in every direction; still,
money, you must be found: a trap must be laid for the old man.

CHREM. (_apart, overhearing him._) Was I deceived {in saying} that
they were planning this? That servant of Clinia’s is somewhat dull;
therefore {that} province has been assigned to this one of ours.

SYR. (_in a low voice._) Who’s that speaking? (_Catches sight of
CHREMES._) I’m undone! Did he hear it, I wonder?

CHREM. Syrus.

SYR. Well--

CHREM. What are you doing here?

SYR. All right. Really, I am quite surprised at you, Chremes, up so
early, after drinking so much yesterday.

CHREM. Not too much.

SYR. Not {too much}, say you? Really, you’ve seen the old age of an
eagle,[61] as the saying is.

CHREM. Pooh, pooh!

SYR. A pleasant and agreeable woman this Courtesan.

CHREM. Why, so she seemed to me, in fact.

SYR. And really of handsome appearance.

CHREM. Well enough.

SYR. Not like {those} of former days,[62] but as {times are} now, very
passable: nor do I in the least wonder that Clinia doats upon her. But
he has a father-- a certain covetous, miserable, and niggardly
person-- this neighbor {of ours} (_pointing to the house_). Do you
know him? Yet, as if he was not abounding in wealth, his son ran away
through want. Are you aware that it is the fact, as I am saying?

CHREM. How should I not be aware? A fellow that deserves the mill.

SYR. Who?

CHREM. That servant of the young gentleman, I mean.

SYR. (_aside._) Syrus! I was sadly afraid for you.

CHREM. To suffer it to come to this!

SYR. What was he to do?

CHREM. Do you ask the question? He ought to have found some expedient,
contrived {some} stratagem, by means of which there might have been
something for the young man to give to his mistress, and {thus} have
saved this crabbed old fellow in spite of himself.

SYR. You are {surely} joking.

CHREM. This ought to have been done by him, Syrus.

SYR. How now-- pray, do you commend {servants}, who deceive their

CHREM. Upon occasion-- I certainly do commend {them}.

SYR. Quite right.

CHREM. Inasmuch as it often is the remedy for great disturbances. Then
would this man’s only son have staid at home.

SYR. (_aside._) Whether he says this in jest or in earnest, I don’t
know; only, in fact, that he gives me additional zest for longing
still more {to trick} him.

CHREM. And what is he now waiting for, Syrus? Is it until {his father}
drives him away from here a second time, when he can no longer support
her expenses?[63] Has he no plot on foot against the old gentleman?

SYR. He is a stupid fellow.

CHREM. Then you ought to assist him-- for the sake of the young man.

SYR. For my part, I can do {so} easily, if you command me; for I know
well in what fashion it is usually done.

CHREM. So much the better, i’ faith.

SYR. ’Tis not my way to tell an untruth.

CHREM. Do it then.

SYR. But hark you! Just take care and remember this, in case any thing
of this sort should perchance happen at a future time, such are human
affairs! --your son might do {the same}.

CHREM. The necessity will not arise, I trust.

SYR. I’ faith, and I trust so too: nor do I say so now, because I have
suspected him in any way; but in case, none the more[64]-- You see
what his age is; (_aside_) and truly, Chremes,[65] if an occasion does
happen, I may be able to handle you right handsomely.

CHREM. As to that, we’ll consider what is requisite when the occasion
does happen. At present do you set about this matter. (_Goes into his

SYR. (_to himself._) Never on any occasion did I hear my master talk
more to the purpose; nor {at any time} could I believe that I was
authorized to play the rogue with greater impunity. I wonder who it is
coming out of our house? (_Stands aside._)


  _Enter CHREMES and CLITIPHO from the house of the former._

CHREM. Pray, what does this mean? What behavior is this, Clitipho? Is
this acting as becomes you?

CLIT. What have I done?

CHREM. Did I not see you just now putting your hand into this
Courtesan’s bosom?

SYR. (_apart._) It’s all up with us-- I’m utterly undone!

CLIT. What, I?

CHREM. With these self-same eyes {I saw it}-- don’t deny it. Besides,
you wrong him unworthily in not keeping your hands off: for indeed it
is a gross affront to entertain a person, your friend, at your house,
and to take liberties with his mistress. Yesterday, for instance, at
wine, how rude you were--

SYR. (_apart._) ’Tis the truth.[66]

CHREM. How annoying {you were}! So much so, that for my part, as the
Gods may prosper me, I dreaded what in the end might be {the
consequence}. I understand lovers. They resent highly things that you
would not imagine.

CLIT. But he has {full} confidence in me, father, that I would not do
any thing of that kind.

CHREM. Be it so; still, at least, you ought to go somewhere for a
little time away from their presence. Passion prompts to many a thing;
your presence acts as a restraint upon doing them. I form a judgment
from myself. There’s not one of my friends this day to whom I would
venture, Clitipho, to disclose all my secrets. With one, {his} station
forbids it; with another, I am ashamed of the action itself, lest I
may appear a fool or devoid of shame; do you rest assured that he does
the same.[67] But it is our part to be sensible of {this}; and, when
and where it is requisite, to show due complaisance.

SYR. (_coming forward and whispering to CLITIPHO._) What is it he is

CLIT. (_aside, to SYRUS._) I’m utterly undone!

SYR. Clitipho, these same injunctions I gave you. You have acted the
part of a prudent and discreet person.[68]

CLIT. Hold your tongue, I beg.

SYR. Very good.

CHREM. (_approaching them._) Syrus, I am ashamed {of him}.

SYR. I believe it; and not without reason. Why, he vexes myself even.

CLIT. (_to SYRUS._) Do you persist, then?

SYR. I’ faith, I’m saying the truth, as it appears {to me}.

CLIT. May I not go near them?

CHREM. How now-- pray, is there but one way[69] of going near {them}?

SYR. (_aside._) Confusion! He’ll be betraying himself before I’ve got
the money. (_Aloud._) Chremes, will you give attention to me, who am
but a silly person?

CHREM. What am I to do?

SYR. Bid {him} go somewhere {out of the way}.

CLIT. Where am I to go?

SYR. Where you please; leave the place to them; be off and take a

CLIT. Take a walk! where?

SYR. Pshaw! Just as if there was no place {to walk in}. Why, then, go
this way, that way, where you will.

CHREM. He says right, I’m of his opinion.

CLIT. May the Gods extirpate you, Syrus, for thrusting me away from

SYR. (_aside to CLITIPHO._) Then do you for the future keep those
hands {of yours} within bounds. (_Exit CLITIPHO._) Really {now} (_to
CHREMES_), what do you think? What do you imagine will become of him
next, unless, so far as the Gods afford you the means, you watch him,
correct {and} admonish him?

CHREM. I’ll take care of that.

SYR. But now, master, he must be looked after by you.

CHREM. It shall be done.

SYR. If you are wise,-- for now he minds me less and less {every day}.

CHREM. What {say} you? What have you done, Syrus, about that matter
which I was mentioning to you a short time since? Have you any {plan}
that suits {you}, or not yet even?

SYR. You mean the design {upon Menedemus}? I have; I have just hit
upon one.

CHREM. You are a clever fellow; what is it? Tell me.

SYR. I’ll tell {you}; but, as one matter arises, out of another----

CHREM. Why, what is it, Syrus?

SYR. This Courtesan is a very bad woman.

CHREM. So she seems.

SYR. Aye, if you did but know. O shocking! just see what she is
hatching. There was a certain old woman here from Corinth,-- this
{Bacchis} lent her a thousand silver drachmæ.

CHREM. What then?

SYR. She is {now} dead: she has left a daughter, a young girl. She has
been left with this {Bacchis} as a pledge for that sum.

CHREM. I understand {you}.

SYR. She has brought her hither along with her, her {I mean} who is
now with your wife.[70]

CHREM. What then?

SYR. She is soliciting Clinia at once to advance her this {money}; she
says, however, that this {girl} is to be a security, that, at a future
time, she will repay the thousand pieces of money.

CHREM. And would she really be a security?[71]

SYR. Dear me, is it to be doubted? I think so.

CHREM. What then do you intend doing?

SYR. What, I? I shall go to Menedemus; I’ll tell him she is a captive
from Caria, rich, and of noble family; if he redeems her, there will
be a considerable profit in this transaction.

CHREM. You are in an error.

SYR. Why so?

CHREM. I’ll now answer you for Menedemus-- I will not purchase her.

SYR. What is it you say? Do speak more agreeably to our wishes.

CHREM. But there is no occasion.

SYR. No occasion?

CHREM. Certainly not, i’ faith.

SYR. How so, I wonder?

CHREM. You shall soon know.[72]

SYR. Stop, stop; what is the reason that there is such a great noise
at our door? (_They retire out of sight._)



  _Enter SOSTRATA and a NURSE in haste from the house of CHREMES, and
  CHREMES and SYRUS on the other side of the stage unperceived._

SOS. (_holding up a ring and examining it._) Unless my fancy deceives
me, surely this is the ring which I suspect it to be, the same with
which my daughter was exposed.

CHREM. (_apart._) Syrus, what is the meaning of these expressions?

SOS. {Nurse}, how is it? Does it not seem to you the same?

NUR. As for me, I said it was the same the very instant that you
showed it me.

SOS. But have you now examined it thoroughly, my {dear} nurse?

NUR. Thoroughly.

SOS. Then go in-doors at once, and if she has now done bathing, bring
me word. I’ll wait here in the mean time for my husband.

SYR. (_apart._) She wants you, see what it is she wants; she is in a
serious mood, I don’t know why; it is not without a cause-- I fear
what it may be.

CHREM. What it may be? I’ faith, she’ll now surely be announcing some
important trifle, with a great parade.

SOS. (_turning round._) Ha! my husband!

CHREM. Ha! my wife!

SOS. I was looking for you.

CHREM. Tell me what you want.

SOS. In the first place, this I beg of you, not to believe that I have
ventured to do any thing contrary to your commands.

CHREM. Would you have me believe you in this, although so incredible?
{Well,} I will believe you.

SYR. (_aside._) This excuse portends I know not what offense.

SOS. Do you remember me being pregnant, and yourself declaring to me,
most peremptorily, that if I should bring forth a girl, you would not
have it brought up.

CHREM. I know what you have done, you have brought it up.

SYR. (_aside._) Such is the fact, {I’m sure}: my young master has
gained a loss[73] in consequence.

SOS. Not at all; but there was here an elderly woman of Corinth, of no
indifferent character; to her I gave it to be exposed.

CHREM. O Jupiter! that there should be such extreme folly in
{a person’s} mind.

SOS. Alas! what have I done?

CHREM. And do you ask the question?

SOS. If I have acted wrong, my {dear} Chremes, I have done {so} in

CHREM. This, indeed, I know for certain, even if you were to deny it,
that in every thing you both speak and act ignorantly and foolishly:
how many blunders you disclose in this {single} affair! For, in the
first place, then, if you had been disposed to obey my orders, {the
child} ought to have been dispatched; {you ought} not in words to have
feigned her death, {and} in reality to have left hopes of her
surviving. But that I pass over; compassion, maternal affection,
I allow it. But how finely you did provide for the future! What was
your meaning? Do reflect. It’s clear, beyond a doubt, that your
daughter was betrayed by you to this old woman, either that through
you she might make a living by her, or that she might be sold in open
market as {a slave}. I suppose you reasoned thus: “any thing is
enough, if only her life is saved:” what are you to do with those who
understand neither law, nor right and justice? {Be it} for better {or}
for worse, be it for them or against them, they see nothing except
just what they please.

SOS. My {dear} Chremes, I have done wrong, I own; I am convinced. Now
this I beg of you; inasmuch as you are more advanced in years than I,
be so much the more ready to forgive; so that your justice may be some
protection for my weakness.

CHREM. I’ll readily forgive you doing this, of course; but, Sostrata,
my easy temper prompts you to do amiss. But, whatever this
{circumstance} is, by reason of which this was begun upon, proceed to
tell it.

SOS. As we {women} are all foolishly and wretchedly superstitious,
when I delivered {the child} to her to be exposed, I drew a ring from
off my finger, and ordered her to expose it, together with the child;
{that} if she should die, she might not be without[74] some portion of
our possessions.

CHREM. That {was} right; {thereby} you proved the saving of yourself
and her.[75]

SOS. (_holding out the ring._) This is that ring.

CHREM. Whence did you get it?

SOS. From the young woman whom Bacchis brought here with her.

SYR. (_aside._) Ha!

CHREM. What does she say?

SOS. She gave it me to keep for her, while she went to bathe. At first
I paid no attention {to it}; but after I looked at it, I at once
recognized it, {and} came running to you.

CHREM. What do you suspect now, or have you discovered, relative to

SOS. I don’t know; unless you inquire of herself whence she got it, if
{that} can possibly be discovered.

SYR. (_aside._) I’m undone! I see more hopes[76] {from this incident}
than I desire. If it is so, she {certainly} must be ours.

CHREM. Is this {woman} living to whom you delivered {the child}?

SOS. I don’t know.

CHREM. What account did she bring you at the time?

SOS. That she had done as I had ordered her.

CHREM. Tell me what is the woman’s name, that she may be inquired

SOS. Philtere.

SYR. (_aside._) ’Tis the very same. It’s a wonder if she isn’t found,
and I lost.

CHREM. Sostrata, follow me this way in-doors.

SOS. How much beyond my hopes has {this matter} turned out! How
dreadfully afraid I was, Chremes, that you would now be of feelings as
unrelenting as formerly you were on exposing {the child}.

CHREM. Many a time a man can not be[77] such as he would be, if
circumstances do not admit of it. Time has now so brought it about,
that I should be glad of a daughter; formerly {I wished for} nothing

(_CHREMES and SOSTRATA go into the house._)


  _SYRUS alone._

SYR. Unless my fancy deceives me,[78] retribution[79] will not be
very, far off from me; so much by this incident are my forces now
utterly driven into straits; unless I contrive by some means that the
old man mayn’t come to know that this {damsel} is his son’s mistress.
For as to entertaining any hopes about the money, or supposing I could
cajole him, it’s useless; I shall be {sufficiently} triumphant, if I’m
allowed to escape with my sides covered.[80] I’m vexed that such a
{tempting} morsel has been so suddenly snatched away from my jaws.
What am I to do? Or what shall I devise? I must begin upon my plan
over again. Nothing is so difficult, but that it may be found out by
seeking. What now if I set about it after this fashion. (_He
considers._) That’s of no use. What, if after this fashion? I effect
just about the same. But this I think will do. It can not. Yes!
excellent. Bravo! I’ve found out the best of all-- I’ faith, I do
believe that after all I shall lay hold of this same runaway


  _Enter CLINIA at the other side of the stage._

CLIN. (_to himself._) Nothing can possibly henceforth befall me of
such consequence as to cause {me} uneasiness; so extreme is this joy
that has surprised me. Now then I shall give myself up entirely to my
father, to be more frugal than {even} he could wish.

SYR. (_apart._) I wasn’t mistaken; she has been discovered, so far as
I understand from these words of his. (_Advancing._) I am rejoiced
that this matter has turned out for you so much to your wish.

CLIN. O my {dear} Syrus, have you heard of it, pray?

SYR. How shouldn’t I, when I was present all the while?

CLIN. Did you {ever} hear of any thing falling out so fortunately for
any one?

SYR. Never.

CLIN. And, so may the Gods prosper me, I do not now rejoice so much on
my own account as hers, whom I know to be deserving of any honor.

SYR. I believe it: but now, Clinia, come, attend to me in my turn. For
your friend’s business as well,-- it must be seen to-- that it is
placed in a state of security, lest the old gentleman should now {come
to know} any thing about his mistress.

CLIN. O Jupiter!

SYR. Do be quiet.

CLIN. My Antiphila will be mine.

SYR. Do you {still} interrupt me thus?

CLIN. What can I do? My {dear} Syrus, I’m transported with joy! Do
bear with me.

SYR. I’ faith, I really do bear with you.

CLIN. We are blest with the life of the Gods.

SYR. I’m taking pains to no purpose, I doubt.

CLIN. Speak; I hear you.

SYR. But still you’ll not mind it.

CLIN. I will.

SYR. This must be seen to, I say, that your friend’s business as well
is placed in a state of security. For if you now go away from us, and
leave Bacchis here, our {old man} will immediately come to know that
she is Clitipho’s mistress; if you take her away {with you}, it will
be concealed just as much as it has been hitherto concealed.

CLIN. But still, Syrus, nothing can make more against my marriage than
this; for with what face am I to address my father {about it}? You
understand what I mean?

SYR. Why not?

CLIN. What can I say? What excuse can I make?

SYR. Nay, I don’t want you to dissemble; tell him the whole case just
as it really is.

CLIN. What is it you say?

SYR. I bid you {do this; tell him} that you are in love with her, and
want her for a wife: that this {Bacchis} is Clitipho’s {mistress}.

CLIN. You require a thing that is fair and reasonable, and easy to be
done. And I suppose, then, you would have me request my father to keep
it a secret from your old man.

SYR. On the contrary; to tell him directly the matter just as it is.

CLIN. What? Are you quite in your senses or sober? Why, you were for
ruining him outright. For how could he be in a state of security? Tell
me {that}.

SYR. For my part, I yield the palm to this device. Here I do pride
myself exultingly, in having in myself such exquisite resources, and
power of address so great, as to deceive them both by telling the
truth: so that when your old man tells ours that she is his son’s
mistress, he’ll still not believe him.

CLIN. But yet, by these means you again cut off all hopes of my
marriage; for as long as {Chremes} believes that she is my mistress,
he’ll not give me his daughter. Perhaps you care little what becomes
of me, so long as you provide for him.

SYR. What the plague, do you suppose I want this pretense to be kept
up for an age? ’Tis but for a single day, {only} till I have secured
the money: you be quiet; {I ask} no more.

CLIN. Is that sufficient? If his father should come to know of it,
pray, what then?

SYR. What if I have recourse to those who say, “What now if the sky
were to fall?”[82]

CLIN. I’m afraid to go about it.

SYR. You, afraid! As if it was not in your power to clear yourself at
any time you like, {and} discover the {whole} matter.

CLIN. Well, well; let Bacchis be brought over {to our house}.

SYR. Capital! she is coming out of doors.


  _Enter BACCHIS and PHRYGIA, from the house of CHREMES._

BACCH. (_pretending not to see CLINIA and SYRUS._) To a very fine
purpose,[83] upon my faith, have the promises of Syrus brought me
hither, who agreed to lend me ten minæ. If now he deceives me, oft as
he may entreat me to come, he shall come in vain. Or else, when I’ve
promised to come, and fixed the time, when he has carried word back
for certain, {and} Clitipho is on the stretch of expectation, I’ll
disappoint him and not come. Syrus will make atonement to me with his

CLIN. (_apart, to SYRUS._) She promises you very fairly.

SYR. (_to CLINIA._) But do you think she is in jest? She’ll do it, if
I don’t take care.

BACCH. (_aside._) They’re asleep[84]-- I’faith, I’ll rouse them.
(_Aloud._) My {dear} Phrygia, did you hear about the country-seat of
Charinus, which that man was showing us just now?

PHRY. I heard of it.

BACCH. (_aloud._) That it was the next to the farm here on the
right-hand side.[85]

PHRY. I remember.

BACCH. (_aloud_) Run thither post-haste; the Captain is keeping the
feast of Bacchus[86] at his house.

SYR. (_apart._) What is she going to be at?

BACCH. (_aloud._) Tell him I am here very much against my inclination,
and am detained; but that by some means or other I’ll give them the
slip and come {to him}. (_PHRYGIA moves._)

SYR. (_coming forward._) Upon my faith, I’m ruined! Bacchis, stay,
stay; prithee, where are you sending her? Order her to stop.

BACCH. (_to PHRYGIA._) Be off.

SYR. Why, the money’s ready.

BACCH. Why, then I’ll stay. (_PHRYGIA returns._)

SYR. And it will be given you presently.

BACCH. Just when you please; do I press you?

SYR. But do you know what {you are to do}, pray?

BACCH. What?

SYR. You must now go over to the house of Menedemus, and your equipage
must be taken over thither.

BACCH. What scheme are you upon, {you} rascal?

SYR. What, I? Coining money to give you.

BACCH. Do you think me a proper person {for you} to play upon?

SYR. It’s not without a purpose.

BACCH. (_pointing to the house._) Why, have I any business then with
you here?

SYR. O no; I’m only going to give you what’s your own.

BACCH. {Then} let’s be going.[87]

SYR. Follow this way. (_Goes to the door of MENEDEMUS, and calls._) Ho
there! Dromo.

  _Enter DROMO from the house._

DRO. Who is it wants me?

SYR. Syrus.

DRO. What’s the matter?

SYR. Take over all the attendants of Bacchis to your house here

DRO. Why so?

SYR. Ask no questions. Let them take what they brought here with them.
The old gentleman will hope his expenses are lightened by their
departure; for sure he little knows how much loss this trifling gain
will bring him. You, Dromo, if you are wise, know nothing of what you
do know.

DRO. You shall own that I’m dumb. (_CLINIA, BACCHIS, and PHRYGIA go
into the house of MENEDEMUS, and DROMO follows with BACCHIS’S retinue
and baggage._)


  _Enter CHREMES from his house._

CHREM. (_to himself._) So may the Deities prosper me, I am now
concerned for the fate of Menedemus, that so great a misfortune should
have befallen him. To be maintaining that woman with such a retinue!
Although I am well aware he’ll not be sensible of it for some days to
come, his son was so greatly missed by him; but when he sees such a
vast expense incurred by him every day at home, and no limit to it,
he’ll wish that this son would leave him a second time. See-- here
comes Syrus most opportunely.

SYR. (_to himself, as he comes forward._) {Why} delay to accost him?

CHREM. Syrus.

SYR. Well.

CHREM. How go matters?

SYR. I’ve been wishing for some time for you to be thrown in my way.

CHREM. You seem, then, to have effected something, I know not what,
with the old gentleman.

SYR. As to what we were talking of a short time since? No sooner said
than done.

CHREM. In real earnest?

SYR. In real.

CHREM. Upon my faith, I can not forbear patting your head {for it}.
Come here, Syrus; I’ll do you some good turn for this matter, and with
pleasure. (_Patting his head._)

SYR. But if you knew how cleverly it came into my head----

CHREM. Pshaw! Do you boast because it has turned out according to your

SYR. On my word, not I, indeed; I am telling the truth.

CHREM. Tell {me} how it is.

SYR. Clinia has told Menedemus, that this Bacchis is your Clitipho’s
mistress, and that {he} has taken her thither with him in order that
you might not come to know of it.

CHREM. Very good.

SYR. Tell me, please, {what you think of it}.

CHREM. Extremely {good}, I declare.

SYR. Why yes, pretty fair. But listen, what a piece of policy still
remains. He is then to say that he has seen your daughter-- that her
beauty charmed him as soon as he beheld her; {and} that he desires her
for a wife.

CHREM. What, her that has just been discovered?

SYR. The same; and, in fact, he’ll request that she may be asked for.

CHREM. For what purpose, Syrus? For I don’t altogether comprehend it.

SYR. O dear, you are {so} dull.

CHREM. Perhaps so.

SYR. Money will be given him for the wedding-- with which golden
trinkets and clothes---- do you understand me?

CHREM. To buy {them}----?

SYR. Just so.

CHREM. But I neither give nor betroth my daughter {to him}.

SYR. But why?

CHREM. Why, do you ask me? To a fellow----

SYR. Just as you please. I don’t mean that in reality you should give
her to him, but that you should pretend it.

CHREM. Pretending is not in my way; do you mix up these {plots} of
yours, so as not to mix me up {in them}. Do you think that I’ll
betroth my daughter to a person to whom I will not marry her?

SYR. I imagined {so}.

CHREM. By no means.

SYR. It might have been cleverly managed; and I undertook this affair
for the very reason, that a short time since you so urgently requested

CHREM. I believe you.

SYR. But for my part, Chremes, I take it well and good, {either way}.

CHREM. But still, I especially wish you to do your best for it to be
brought about; but in some other way.

SYR. It shall be done: some other {method} must be thought of; but as
to what I was telling you of,-- about the money which she owes to
Bacchis,-- that must now be repaid her. And you will not, of course,
now be having recourse to this method; “What have I to do with it? Was
it lent to me? Did I give any orders? Had she the power to pawn my
daughter without my consent?” They quote that saying, Chremes, with
good reason, “Rigorous law[88] is often rigorous injustice.”

CHREM. I will not do {so}.

SYR. On the contrary, though others were at liberty, you are not at
liberty; all think that you are in good and very easy circumstances.

CHREM. Nay rather, I’ll at once carry it to her myself.

SYR. Why no; request your son in preference.

CHREM. For what reason?

SYR. Why, because the suspicion of being in love with her has been
transferred to him {with Menedemus}.

CHREM. What then?

SYR. Because it will seem to be more like probability when he gives it
her; and at the same time I shall effect more easily what I wish. Here
he comes too; go, {and} bring out the money.

CHREM. I’ll bring it. (_Goes into his house._)


  _Enter CLITIPHO._

CLIT. (_to himself._) There is nothing so easy but that it becomes
difficult when you do it with reluctance. As this walk of mine, for
instance, though not fatiguing, it has reduced me to weariness. And
now I dread nothing more than that I should be packed off somewhere
hence once again, that I may not have access to Bacchis. May then all
the Gods and Goddesses, as many as exist, confound you, Syrus, with
these stratagems and plots of yours. You are always devising something
of this kind, by means of which to torture me.

SYR. Will you not away with you-- to where you deserve? How nearly had
your forwardness proved my ruin!

CLIT. Upon my faith, I wish it had been {so}; just what you deserve.

SYR. Deserve? How so? Really, I’m glad that I’ve heard this from you
before you had the money which I was just going to give you.

CLIT. What then would you have me to say to you? You’ve made a fool of
me; brought my mistress hither, whom I’m not allowed to touch----

SYR. {Well}, I’m not angry then. But do you know where Bacchis is just

CLIT. At our house.

SYR. No.

CLIT. Where then?

SYR. At Clinia’s.

CLIT. I’m ruined!

SYR. Be of good heart; you shall presently carry to her the money that
you promised her.

CLIT. You do prate away. --Where from?

SYR. From your own father.

CLIT. Perhaps you are joking with me.

SYR. The thing itself will prove it.

CLIT. Indeed, then, I am a lucky man. Syrus, I do love you from my

SYR. But {your} father’s coming out. Take care not to express surprise
at any thing, for what reason it is done; give way at the proper
moment; do what he orders, {and} say but little.


  _Enter CHREMES from the house, with a bag of money._

CHREM. Where’s Clitipho now?

SYR. (_aside to CLITIPHO._) Say-- here I am.

CLIT. Here am I.

CHREM. (_to SYRUS._) Have you told him how it is?

SYR. I’ve told him pretty well every thing.

CHREM. Take this money, and carry it. (_Holding out the bag._)

SYR. (_aside to CLITIPHO._) Go-- why do you stand still, {you} stone;
why don’t you take it?

CLIT. Very well, give it me. (_Receives the bag._)

SYR. (_to CLITIPHO._) Follow me this way directly. (_To CHREMES._) You
in the mean while will wait here for us till we return; for there’s no
occasion for us to stay there long. (_CLITIPHO and SYRUS go into the
house of MENEDEMUS._)

CHREM. (_to himself._) My daughter, in fact, has now had ten minæ from
me, which I consider as paid for her board; another {ten} will follow
these for clothes; and then she will require two talents for her
portion. How many things, {both} just {and} unjust, are sanctioned by
custom![89] Now I’m obliged, neglecting my business, to look out for
some one on whom to bestow my property, that has been acquired by my


  _Enter MENEDEMUS from his house._

MEN. (_to CLINIA within._) My son, I now think myself the happiest of
all men, since I find that you have returned to a rational mode of

CHREM. (_aside._) How much he is mistaken!

MEN. Chremes, you are the very person I wanted; preserve, so far as in
you lies, my son, myself, and my family.

CHREM. Tell me what you would have me do.

MEN. You have this day found a daughter.

CHREM. What then?

MEN. Clinia wishes her to be given him for a wife.

CHREM. Prithee, what kind of a person are you?

MEN. Why?

CHREM. Have you already forgotten what passed between us, concerning a
scheme, that by that method some money might be got out of you?

MEN. I remember.

CHREM. That self-same thing they are now about.

MEN. What do you tell {me}, Chremes? Why surely, this Courtesan, who
is at my house, is Clitipho’s mistress.

CHREM. So they say, and you believe it all; and they say that he is
desirous of a wife, in order that, when I have betrothed her, you may
give him {money}, with which to provide gold trinkets and clothing,
and other things that are requisite.

MEN. That is it, no doubt; that money will be given to his mistress.

CHREM. Of course it is to be given.

MEN. Alas! in vain then, unhappy man, have I been overjoyed; still
however, I had rather any thing than be deprived of him. What answer
now shall I report from you, Chremes, so that he may not perceive that
I have found it out, and take it to heart?

CHREM. To heart, {indeed}! you are too indulgent to him, Menedemus.

MEN. Let me go on; I have {now} begun: assist me in this throughout,

CHREM. Say then, that you have seen me, {and} have treated about the

MEN. I’ll say {so}-- what then?

CHREM. That I will do every thing; that as a son-in-law he meets my
approbation; in fine, too, if you like, tell him also that she has
been promised him.

MEN. Well, that’s what I wanted--

CHREM. That he may the sooner ask of you, and you may as soon as
possible give him what you wish.

MEN. It is my wish.

CHREM. Assuredly, before very long, according as I view this matter,
you’ll have enough of him. But, however that may be, if you are wise,
you’ll give to him cautiously, and a little at a time.

MEN. I’ll do {so}.

CHREM. Go in-doors {and} see how much he requires. I shall be at home,
if you should want me for any thing.

MEN. I certainly do want you; for I shall let you know whatever I do.
(_They go into their respective houses._)



  _Enter MENEDEMUS from his house._

MEN. (_to himself._) I am {quite} aware that I am not so overwise, or
so very quick-sighted; but this assistant, prompter, and director[90]
of mine, Chremes, outdoes me in that. Any one of those epithets which
are applied to a fool is suited to myself, such as dolt, post,
ass,[91] lump of lead; to him not one can {apply}; his stupidity
surpasses them all.

  _Enter CHREMES, speaking to SOSTRATA within._

CHREM. Hold now, do, wife, leave off dinning the Gods with
thanksgivings that your daughter has been discovered; unless you judge
of them by your own disposition, and think that they understand
nothing, unless the same thing has been told them a hundred times.
But, in the mean time, why does my son linger there so long with

MEN. What persons do you say are lingering?

CHREM. Ha! Menedemus, you have come opportunely. Tell me, have you
told Clinia what I said?

MEN. Every thing.

CHREM. What did he say?

MEN. He began to rejoice, just like people do who wish to be married.

CHREM. (_laughing._) Ha! ha! ha!

MEN. Why are you laughing?

CHREM. The sly tricks of my servant, Syrus, {just} came into my mind.

MEN. Did they?

CHREM. The rogue can even mould the countenances of people.[92]

MEN. That my son is pretending that he is overjoyed, is it that you

CHREM. Just so. (_Laughing._)

MEN. The very same thing came into my mind.

CHREM. A crafty knave!

MEN. Still more would you think such to be the fact, if you knew more.

CHREM. Do you say so?

MEN. Do you give attention then?

CHREM. Just stop-- first I want to know this, what {money} you have
squandered; for when you told your son that she was promised, of
course Dromo would at once throw in a word that golden jewels,
clothes, {and} attendants would be needed for the bride, in order that
you might give the money.

MEN. No.

CHREM. How, no?

MEN. No, I tell you.

CHREM. Nor yet your son himself?

MEN. Not in the slightest, Chremes. He was only the more pressing on
{this} one point, that the match might be concluded to-day.

CHREM. You say what’s surprising. What did my {servant} Syrus do?
Didn’t even he {say} any thing?

MEN. Nothing at all.

CHREM. For what reason, I don’t know.

MEN. For my part, I wonder at {that}, when you know other things so
well. But this same Syrus has moulded your son,[93] too, to such
perfection, that there could not be even the slightest suspicion that
she is {Clinia’s} mistress!

CHREM. What do you say?

MEN. Not to mention, then, their kissing and embracing; that I count

CHREM. What more could be done to carry on the cheat?

MEN. Pshaw!

CHREM. What do you mean?

MEN. Only listen. In the inner part of my house there is a certain
room at the back; into this a bed was brought, {and} was made up with

CHREM. What took place after this?

MEN. No sooner said than done, thither went Clitipho.

CHREM. Alone?

MEN. Alone.

CHREM. I’m alarmed.

MEN. Bacchis followed directly.

CHREM. Alone?

MEN. Alone.

CHREM. I’m undone!

MEN. When they had gone into {the room}, they shut the door.

CHREM. Well-- did Clinia see {all} this going on?

MEN. How shouldn’t he? He was with me.

CHREM. Bacchis is my son’s mistress, Menedemus-- I’m undone.

MEN. Why so?

CHREM. I have hardly substance to suffice for ten days.[94]

MEN. What! are you alarmed at it, because he is paying attention to
his friend?

CHREM. His “she-friend” rather.[95]

MEN. If he {really} is paying it.

CHREM. Is it a matter of doubt to you? Do you suppose that there is
any person of so accommodating and tame a spirit as to suffer his own
mistress, himself looking on, to--

MEN. (_chuckling and speaking ironically._) Why not? That I may be
imposed upon the more easily.

CHREM. Do you laugh at me? You have good reason. How angry I now am
with myself! How many things gave {proof}, whereby, had I not been a
stone, I might have been fully sensible {of this}? What was it I saw?
Alas! wretch that I am! But assuredly they shall not escape my
vengeance if I live; for this instant--

MEN. Can you not contain yourself? Have you no respect for yourself?
Am I not a sufficient example to you?

CHREM. For {very} anger, Menedemus, I am not myself.

MEN. For you to talk in that manner! Is it not a shame for you to be
giving advice to others, to show wisdom abroad {and yet} be able to do
nothing for yourself?

CHREM. What shall I do?

MEN. That which you said I failed to do: make him sensible that you
are his father; make him venture to intrust every thing to you, to
seek and to ask of you; so that he may look for no other resources and
forsake you.[96]

CHREM. Nay, I had much rather he would go any where in the world, than
by his debaucheries here reduce his father to beggary! For if I go on
supplying his extravagance, Menedemus, in that case my circumstances
will undoubtedly be {soon} reduced to the level of your rake.

MEN. What evils you will bring upon yourself in this affair, if you
don’t act with caution! You’ll show yourself severe, and still pardon
him at last; that too with an ill grace.

CHREM. Ah! you don’t know how vexed I am.

MEN. Just as you please. What about that which I desire-- that she may
be married to my {son}? Unless there is any other step that you would

CHREM. On the contrary, both the son-in-law and the connection are to
my taste.

MEN. What portion shall I say that you have named for your daughter?
Why are you silent?

CHREM. Portion?

MEN. I say so.

CHREM. Alas!

MEN. Chremes, don’t be at all afraid {to speak}, if it is but a small
one. The portion is no consideration at all with us.

CHREM. I did think that two talents were sufficient, according to my
means. But if you wish me to be saved, and my estate and my son, you
must say to this effect, that I have settled all my property on her as
her portion.

MEN. What scheme are you upon?

CHREM. Pretend that you wonder at this, and at the same time ask him
the reason why I do so.

MEN. Why, really, I can’t conceive the reason for your doing so.

CHREM. Why {do I do so}? To check his feelings, which are now hurried
away by luxury and wantonness, and to bring him down so as not to know
which way to turn himself.

MEN. What is your design?

CHREM. Let me alone, and give me leave to have my own way in this

MEN. I do give you leave: is this your desire?

CHREM. It is so.

MEN. {Then} be it so.

CHREM. And now let your son prepare to fetch the bride. The other one
shall be schooled in {such} language as befits children. But Syrus----

MEN. What of him?

CHREM. What? If I live, I will have him so handsomely dressed, so well
combed out, that he shall always remember me as long as he lives; to
imagine that I’m to be a laughing-stock and a plaything for him! So
may the Gods bless me! he would not have dared to do to a widow-woman
the things which he has done to me.[97] (_They go into their
respective houses._)



CLIT. Prithee, is it really the fact, Menedemus, that my father can,
in so short a space {of time}, have cast off all the {natural}
affection of a parent for me? For what crime? What so great enormity
have I, to my misfortune, committed? {Young men} generally do {the

MEN. I am aware that this must be much more harsh and severe to you,
on whom it falls; but {yet} I take it no less amiss {than you}. How it
is so I know not, nor can I account for it, except that from my heart
I wish you well.

CLIT. Did not you say that my father was waiting here?

  _Enter CHREMES from his house._

MEN. See, here he is. (_MENEDEMUS goes into his house._)

CHREM. Why are you blaming me, Clitipho? Whatever I have done in this
matter, I had a view to you and your imprudence. When I saw that you
were of a careless disposition, and held the pleasures of the moment
of the first importance, and did not look forward to the future,
I took measures that you might neither want nor be able to waste this
{which I have}. When, through your own {conduct}, it was not allowed
me to give it you, to whom I ought before all, I had recourse to those
who were your nearest relations; to them I have made over and
intrusted every thing.[98] There you’ll always find a refuge for your
folly; food, clothing, and a roof under which to betake yourself.

CLIT. Ah me!

CHREM. It is better than that, you being my heir, Bacchis should
possess this {estate of mine}.

SYR. (_apart._) I’m ruined irrevocably! --Of what mischief have I,
wretch that I am, unthinkingly been the cause?

CLIT. Would I were dead!

CHREM. Prithee, first learn what it is to live. When you know that, if
life displeases you, then try the other.

SYR. Master, may I be allowed----?

CHREM. Say on.

SYR. But {may I} safely?

CHREM. Say on.

SYR. What injustice or what madness is this, that that in which I have
offended, should be to his detriment?

CHREM. It’s all over.[99] Don’t you mix yourself up {in it}; no one
accuses you, Syrus, nor need you look out for an altar,[100] or for an
intercessor for yourself.

SYR. What is your design?

CHREM. I am not at all angry either with you (_to SYRUS_), or with you
(_to CLITIPHO_); nor is it fair that you {should be so} with me for
what I am doing. (_He goes into his house._)

SYR. He’s gone. I wish I had asked him----

CLIT. What, Syrus?

SYR. Where I am to get my subsistence; he has so utterly cast us
adrift. You are to have it, for the present, at your sister’s, I find.

CLIT. Has it then come to this pass, Syrus-- that I am to be in danger
even of starving?

SYR. So we only live, there’s hope----

CLIT. What {hope}?

SYR. That we shall be hungry enough.

CLIT. Do you jest in a matter so serious, and not give me any
assistance with your advice?

SYR. On the contrary, I’m both now thinking of that, and have been
about it all the time your father was speaking just now; and so far as
I can perceive----

CLIT. What?

SYR. It will not be wanting long. (_He meditates._)

CLIT. What is it, then?

SYR. It is this-- I think that you are not their {son}.

CLIT. How’s that, Syrus? Are you quite in your senses?

SYR. I’ll tell you what’s {come} into my mind; be you the judge. While
they had you alone, while they had no other source of joy more nearly
to affect them, they indulged you, they lavished upon you. Now a
daughter has been found, a pretense has been found in fact on which to
turn you adrift.

CLIT. It’s very probable.

SYR. Do you suppose that he is so angry on account of this fault?

CLIT. I do not think {so}.

SYR. Now consider another thing. All mothers are wont to be advocates
for their sons when in fault, {and} to aid them against a father’s
severity; ’tis not so {here}.

CLIT. You say true; what then shall I now do, Syrus?

SYR. Question them on this suspicion; mention the matter without
reserve; either, if it is not true, you’ll soon bring them both to
compassion, or else you’ll {soon} find out whose son you are.

CLIT. You give good advice; I’ll do so. (_He goes into the home of

SYR. (_to himself._) Most fortunately did this come into my mind. For
the less hope the young man entertains, the greater the difficulty
with which he’ll bring his father to his own terms. I’m not sure even,
that he may not take a wife, and {then} no thanks for Syrus. But what
is this? The old man’s coming out of doors; I’ll be off. What has so
far happened, I am surprised at, that he didn’t order me to be carried
off from here: now I’ll away to Menedemus here, I’ll secure him as my
intercessor; I can put no trust in our old man. (_Goes into the house


  _Enter CHREMES and SOSTRATA from the house._

SOS. Really, sir, if you don’t take care, you’ll be causing some
mischief to your son; and indeed I do wonder at it, my husband, how
any thing so foolish could ever come into your head.

CHREM. Oh, you persist in being the woman? Did I ever wish for any one
thing in {all} my life, Sostrata, but that you were my contradicter on
that occasion? And yet if I were now to ask you what it is that I have
done amiss, or why you act thus, you would not know in what point you
are now so obstinately opposing me in your folly.

SOS. I, not know?

CHREM. Yes, rather, {I should have said} you do know; inasmuch as
either expression amounts to the same thing.[101]

SOS. Alas! you are unreasonable to expect me to be silent in a matter
of such importance.

CHREM. I don’t expect it; talk on then, I shall still do it not a bit
the less.

SOS. Will you do it?

CHREM. Certainly.

SOS. Don’t you see how much evil you will be causing by that course?
--He suspects himself {to be} a foundling.

CHREM. Do you say {so}?

SOS. Assuredly it will be so.

CHREM. Admit it.

SOS. Hold {now}-- prithee, let that be for our enemies. Am I to admit
that he is not my son who {really} is?

CHREM. What! are you afraid that you can not prove that he is yours,
whenever you please?

SOS. Because my daughter has been found?[102]

CHREM. No; but for {a reason} why it should be much sooner believed--
because he is just like you in disposition, you will easily prove that
he is your child; for he is exactly like you; why, he has not a single
vice left him but you have just the same. Then, besides, no woman
could have been the mother of such a son but yourself. But he’s coming
out of doors, {and} how demure! When you understand the matter, you
may form your own conclusions.


  _Enter CLITIPHO from the house of CHREMES._

CLIT. If there ever was any time, mother, when I caused you pleasure,
being called your son by your own desire, I beseech you to remember
it, and now to take compassion on me in my distress. A thing I beg and
request-- do discover to me my parents.

SOS. I conjure you, my son, not to entertain that {notion} in your
mind, that you are another person’s child.

CLIT. I am.

SOS. Wretch that I am! (_Turning to CHREMES._) Was it this that you
wanted, pray? (_To CLITIPHO._) So may you be the survivor of me and of
him, you are my son and his; and henceforth, if you love me, take care
that I never hear that speech from you {again}.

CHREM. But I {say}, if you fear me, take care how I find these
propensities existing in you.

CLIT. What {propensities}?

CHREM. If you wish to know, I’ll tell you; being a trifler, an idler,
a cheat, a glutton, a debauchee, a spendthrift-- Believe me, and
believe that you are our {son}.

CLIT. This is not the language of a parent.

CHREM. If you had been born from my head, Clitipho, just as they say
Minerva was from Jove’s, none the more on that account would I suffer
myself to be disgraced by your profligacy.[103]

SOS. May the Gods forbid it.

CHREM. I don’t know as to the Gods;[104] so far as I shall be enabled,
{I will} carefully {prevent it}. You are seeking that which you
possess-- parents; that which you are in want of you don’t seek-- in
what way to pay obedience to a father, and to preserve what he
acquired by {his} industry. That you by trickery should bring before
my eyes-- I am ashamed to mention the unseemly word in her presence
(_pointing to SOSTRATA_), but you were not in any degree ashamed to
act thus.

CLIT. (_aside._) Alas! how thoroughly displeased I now am with myself!
How much ashamed! nor do I know how to make a beginning to pacify him.


  _Enter MENEDEMUS from his house._

MEN. (_to himself._) Why really, Chremes is treating his son too
harshly and too unkindly. I’m come out, therefore, to make peace
{between them}. Most opportunely I see them {both}.

CHREM. Well, Menedemus, why don’t you order my daughter to be sent
for, and close with the offer[105] of the portion that I mentioned?

SOS. My husband, I entreat you not to do it.

CLIT. Father, I entreat you to forgive me.

MEN. Forgive him, Chremes; do let them prevail upon you.

CHREM. Am I knowingly to make my property a present to Bacchis? I’ll
not do {it}.

MEN. Why, we would not suffer {it}.

CLIT. If you desire me to live, father, do forgive me.

SOS. Do, my {dear} Chremes.

MEN. Come, Chremes, pray, don’t be so obdurate.

CHREM. What {am I to do} here? I see I am not allowed to carry this
through, as I had intended.

MEN. You are acting as becomes you.

CHREM. On this condition, then, I’ll do it; if he does that which I
think it right he {should do}.

CLIT. Father, I’ll do any thing; command me.

CHREM. You must take a wife.

CLIT. Father----

CHREM. I’ll hear nothing.

MEN. I’ll take it upon myself; he shall do so.

CHREM. I don’t hear any thing from {him} as yet.

CLIT. (_aside._) I’m undone!

SOS. Do you hesitate, Clitipho?

CHREM. Nay, just as he likes.

MEN. He’ll do it all.

SOS. This course, while you are making a beginning, is disagreeable,
and while you are unacquainted with it. When you have become
acquainted with it, {it will become} easy.

CLIT. I’ll do it, father.

SOS. My son, upon my honor I’ll give you that charming girl, whom you
may soon become attached to, the daughter of our neighbor Phanocrata.

CLIT. What! that red-haired girl, with cat’s eyes, freckled face,[106]
{and} hooked nose? I can not, father.

CHREM. Heyday! how nice he is! You would fancy he had set his mind
upon it.

SOS. I’ll name another.

CLIT. Why no-- since I must marry, I myself have one that I should
pretty nearly make choice of.

SOS. Now, son, I commend you.

CLIT. The daughter of Archonides {here}.

SOS. I’m quite agreeable.

CLIT. Father, this now remains.

CHREM. What {is it}?

CLIT. I want you to pardon Syrus for what he has done for my sake.

CHREM. Be it so. (_To the Audience._) Fare you well, and grant us your


  [Footnote 1: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

  [Footnote 2: From μενὸς, “strength,” and δῆμος, “the people.”]

  [Footnote 3: From κλίνω, “to incline,” or from κλινὴ,
  “the marriage-bed.”]

  [Footnote 4: From κλειτὸς, “illustrious,” and φῶς, “light.”]

  [Footnote 5: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

  [Footnote 6: From Syria, his native country.]

  [Footnote 7: From σώζω, “to preserve,” or “save.”]

  [Footnote 8: From ἀντὶ, “in return,” and φιλῶ, “to love.”]

  [Footnote 9: From Bacchus, the God of Wine.]

  [Footnote 10: From Phrygia, her native country.]

  [Footnote 11: _Being Consuls_)--M. Juventius Thalna and Ti.
  Sempronius Gracchus were Consuls in the year from the Building of
  the City 589, and B.C. 164.]

  [Footnote 12: _Assigned to an old man_)--Ver. 1. He refers to the
  fact that the Prologue was in general spoken by young men, whereas
  it is here spoken by L. Ambivius Turpio, the leader of the
  Company, a man stricken in years. The Prologue was generally not
  recited by a person who performed a character in the opening

  [Footnote 13: _That I will first explain to you_)--Ver. 3. His
  meaning seems to be, that he will first tell them the reason why
  he, who is to take a part in the opening Scene, speaks the
  Prologue, which is usually spoken by a young man who does not take
  part in that Scene; and that he will then proceed to speak in
  character (eloquor), as Chremes, in the first Scene. His reason
  for being chosen to speak the Prologue, is that he may be a
  pleader (orator) for the Poet, a task which would be likely to be
  better performed by him than by a younger man.]

  [Footnote 14: _From an entire Greek one_)--Ver. 4. In
  contradistinction to such Plays as the Andria, as to which it was
  a subject of complaint that it had been formed out of a mixture
  (contaminatus) of the Andrian and Perinthian of Menander.]

  [Footnote 15: _Which from a two-fold plot_)--Ver. 6. Vollbehr
  suggests that the meaning of this line is, that though it is but
  one Play, it has a two-fold plot-- the intrigues of two young men
  with two mistresses, and the follies of two old men. As this Play
  is supposed to represent the events of two successive days, the
  night intervening, it has been suggested that the reading is
  “duplex-- ex argumento-- simplici;” the Play is “two-fold, with
  but one plot,” as extending to two successive days. The Play
  derives its name from the Greek words, ἑαυτὸν, “himself,” and
  τιμωρουμενὸς, “tormenting.”]

  [Footnote 16: _To be a Pleader_)--Ver. 11. He is to be the pleader
  and advocate of the Poet, to influence the Audience in his favor,
  and against his adversaries; and not to explain the plot of the
  Play. Colman has the following observation: “It is impossible not
  to regret that there are not above ten lines of the Self-Tormentor
  preserved among the Fragments of Menander. We are so deeply
  interested by what we see of that character in Terence, that one
  can not but be curious to inquire in what manner the Greek Poet
  sustained it through five Acts. The Roman author, though he has
  adopted the title of the Greek Play, has so altered the fable,
  that Menedemus is soon thrown into the background, and Chremes is
  brought forward as the principal object; or, to vary the allusion
  a little, the Menedemus of Terence seems to be a drawing in
  miniature copied from a full length, as large as the life, by

  [Footnote 17: _A malevolent old Poet_)--Ver. 22. He alludes to his
  old enemy, Luscus Lavinius, referred to in the preceding

  [Footnote 18: _The genius of his friends_)--Ver. 24. He alludes to
  a report which had been spread, that his friends Lælius and Scipio
  had published their own compositions under his name. Servilius is
  also mentioned by Eugraphius as another of his patrons respecting
  whom similar stories were circulated.]

  [Footnote 19: _As he ran alone in the street_)--Ver. 31. He
  probably does not intend to censure this practice entirely in
  Comedy, but to remind the Audience that in some recent Play of
  Luscus Lavinius this had been the sole stirring incident
  introduced. Plautus introduces Mercury running in the guise of
  Sosia, in the fourth Scene of the Amphitryon, l. 987, and
  exclaiming, “For surely, why, faith, should I, a God, be any less
  allowed to threaten the public, if it doesn’t get out of my way,
  than a slave in the Comedies?” This practice can not, however, be
  intended to be here censured by Plautus, as he is guilty of it in
  three other instances. In the Mercator, Acanthio runs to his
  master Charinus, to tell him that his mistress Pasicompsa has been
  seen in the ship by his father Demipho; in the Stichus, Pinacium,
  a slave, runs to inform his mistress Philumena that her husband
  has arrived in port, on his return from Asia; and in the
  Mostellaria, Tranio, in haste, brings information of the
  unexpected arrival of Theuropides. The “currens servus” is also
  mentioned in the Prologue to the Andria, l. 36. See the soliloquy
  of Stasimus, in the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 1007.]

  [Footnote 20: _A quiet Play_)--Ver. 36. “Statariam.” See the
  spurious Prologue to the Bacchides of Plautus, l. 10, and the Note
  to the passage in Bohn’s Translation. The Comedy of the Romans was
  either “stataria”, “motoria”, or “mixta”. “Stataria” was a Comedy
  which was calm and peaceable, such as the Cistellaria of Plautus;
  “motoria” was one full of action and disturbance, like his
  Amphitryon; while the “Comœdia mixta” was a mixture of both, such
  as the Eunuchus of Terence.]

  [Footnote 21: _What in each character_)--Ver. 47. “In utramque
  partem ingenium quid possit meum.” This line is entirely omitted
  in Vollbehr’s edition; but it appears to be merely a typographical

  [Footnote 22: _How little work is done here_)--Ver. 72. Vollbehr
  thinks that his meaning is, that he is quite vexed to see so
  little progress made, in spite of his neighbor’s continual
  vexation and turmoil, and that, as he says in the next line, he is
  of opinion that if he were to cease working himself, and were to
  overlook his servants, he would get far more done. It is more
  generally thought to be an objection which Chremes suggests that
  Menedemus may possibly make.]

  [Footnote 23: _I am a man_)--Ver. 77. “Homo sum: humani nihil a me
  alienum puto.” St. Augustine says, that at the delivery of this
  sentiment, the Theatre resounded with applause; and deservedly,
  indeed, for it is replete with the very essence of benevolence and
  disregard of self. Cicero quotes the passage in his work De
  Officiis, B. i., c. 9. The remarks of Sir Richard Steele upon this
  passage, in the Spectator, No. 502, are worthy to be transcribed
  at length. “The Play was the Self-Tormentor. It is from the
  beginning to the end a perfect picture of human life, but I did
  not observe in the whole one passage that could raise a laugh. How
  well-disposed must that people be, who could be entertained with
  satisfaction by so sober and polite mirth! In the first Scene of
  the Comedy, when one of the old men accuses the other of
  impertinence for interposing in his affairs, he answers, ‘I am a
  man, and can not help feeling any sorrow that can arrive at man.’
  It is said this sentence was received with an universal applause.
  There can not be a greater argument of the general good
  understanding of a people, than their sudden consent to give their
  approbation of a sentiment which has no emotion in it. If it were
  spoken with ever so great skill in the actor, the manner of
  uttering that sentence could have nothing in it which could strike
  any but people of the greatest humanity-- nay, people elegant and
  skillful in observation upon it. It is possible that he may have
  laid his hand on his heart, and with a winning insinuation in his
  countenance, expressed to his neighbor that he was a man who made
  his case his own; yet I will engage, a player in Covent Garden
  might hit such an attitude a thousand times before he would have
  been regarded.”]

  [Footnote 24: _Take off my shoes_)--Ver. 124. As to the “socci,”
  or low shoes of the ancients, see the Notes to the Trinummus of
  Plautus, l. 720, in Bohn’s Translation. It was the especial duty
  of certain slaves to take off the shoes of their masters.]

  [Footnote 25: _To spread the couches_)--Ver. 125. The “lecti” or
  “couches” upon which the ancients reclined at meals, have been
  enlarged upon in the Notes to Plautus, where full reference is
  also made to the “coena” or “dinner,” and other meals of the

  [Footnote 26: _Provide me with dress_)--Ver. 130. It was the
  custom for the mistress and female servants in each family to make
  the clothes of the master. Thus in the Fasti of Ovid, B. ii.,
  l. 746, Lucretia is found amidst her female servants, making a cloak,
  or “lacerna,” for her husband. Suetonius says that Augustus
  refused to wear any garments not woven by his female relations.
  Cooke seems to think that “vestiant” alludes to the very act of
  putting the clothes upon a person. He says, “The better sort of
  people had eating-dresses, which are here alluded to. These
  dresses were light garments, to put on as soon as they had bathed.
  They commonly bathed before eating, and the chief meal was in the
  evening.” This, however, does not seem to be the meaning of the
  passage, although Colman has adopted it. We may here remark that
  the censure here described is not unlike that mentioned in the
  Prologue to the Mercator of Plautus, as administered by Demænetus
  to his son Charinus.]

  [Footnote 27: _Neither movables_)--Ver. 141. “Vas” is here used as
  a general name for articles of furniture. This line appears to be
  copied almost literally from one of Menander, which still exists.]

  [Footnote 28: _To sell my house_)--Ver. 145. On the mode of
  advertising houses to let or be sold among the Romans, see the
  Trinummus of Plautus, l. 168, and the Note to the passage in
  Bohn’s Translation.]

  [Footnote 29: _Toward your children_)--Ver. 151. The plural
  “liberos” is here used to signify the one son which Menedemus has.
  So in the Hecyra, l. 217, the same word is used to signify but one
  daughter. This was a common mode of expression in the times of the
  earlier Latin authors.]

  [Footnote 30: _Festival of Bacchus, “Dionysia”_)--Ver. 162. It is
  generally supposed that there were four Festivals called the
  Dionysia, during the year, at Athens. The first was the Rural, or
  Lesser Dionysia, κατ᾽ ἀγροὺς, a vintage festival, which was
  celebrated in the “Demi” or boroughs of Attica, in honor of
  Bacchus, in the month Poseidon. This was the most ancient of the
  Festivals, and was held with the greatest merriment and freedom;
  the slaves then enjoyed the same amount of liberty as they did at
  the Saturnalia at Rome. The second Festival, which was called the
  Lensea, from ληνὸς, a wine-press, was celebrated in the month
  Gamelion, with Scenic contests in Tragedy and Comedy. The third
  Dionysian Festival was the Anthesteria, or “Spring feast,” being
  celebrated during three days in the month Anthesterion. The first
  day was called πιθοίγια, or “the Opening of the casks,” as on that
  day the casks were opened to taste the wine of the preceding year.
  The second day was called χοες, from χοῦς, “a cup,” and was
  probably devoted to drinking. The third day was called χυτροὶ,
  from χυτρὸς, “a pot,” as on it persons offered pots with
  flower-seeds or cooked vegetables to Dionysus or Bacchus. The
  fourth Attic festival of Dionysius was celebrated in the month
  Elaphebolion, and was called the Dionysia ἐν ἄστει, Αστικὰ, or
  Μεγαλὰ, the “City” or “great” festival. It was celebrated with
  great magnificence, processions and dramatic representations
  forming part of the ceremonial. From Greece, by way of Sicily, the
  Bacchanalia, or festivals of Bacchus, were introduced into Rome,
  where they became the scenes of and pretext for every kind of vice
  and debauchery, until at length they were put down in the year
  B.C. 187, with a strong hand, by the Consuls Spurius Posthumius
  Albinus and Q. Marcius Philippus; from which period the words
  “bacchor” and “bacchator” became synonymous with the practice of
  every kind of vice and turpitude that could outrage common
  decency. See a very full account of the Dionysia and the
  Bacchanalia in Dr. Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman

  [Footnote 31: _Is of service to him_)--Ver. 199. He means that it
  is to the advantage of Clitipho that Clinia should be seen to
  stand in awe of his father.]

  [Footnote 32: _Reasonable men_)--Ver. 205. “Homo,” “a man,” is
  here put for men in general who are fathers.]

  [Footnote 33: _Of knowing and of pardoning_)--Ver. 218. There is a
  jingle intended here in the resemblance of the words
  “cognoscendi,” “knowing,” and “ignoscendi,” “pardoning.”]

  [Footnote 34: _Is-- fair words_)--Ver. 228. “Recte est.” It is
  supposed that he pauses before uttering these words, which mean
  “very well,” or “very good,” implying the giving an assent without
  making a promise; he tells the reason, in saying that he has
  scruples or prejudices against confessing that he has got nothing
  to give her.]

  [Footnote 35: _Great way from here_)--Ver. 239. That is, from the
  place where they are, in the country, to Athens.]

  [Footnote 36: _Troop of female attendants_)--Ver. 245. The train
  and expenses of a courtesan of high station are admirably depicted
  in the speech of Lysiteles, in the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 252.]

  [Footnote 37: _In a mourning dress_)--Ver. 286. Among the Greeks,
  in general, mourning for the dead seems to have lasted till the
  thirtieth day after the funeral, and during that period black
  dresses were worn. The Romans also wore mourning for the dead,
  which seems, in the time of the Republic, to have been black or
  dark blue for either sex. Under the Empire the men continued to
  wear black, but the women wore white. No jewels or ornaments were
  worn upon these occasions.]

  [Footnote 38: _With no worthless woman’s trumpery_)--Ver. 289. By
  “nullâ malâ re muliebri” he clearly means that they did not find
  her painted up with the cosmetics which some women were in the
  habit of using. Such preparations for the face as white-lead, wax,
  antimony, or vermilion, well deserve the name of “mala res.”
  A host of these cosmetics will be found described in Ovid’s
  Fragment “On the Care of the Complexion,” and much information
  upon this subject is given in various passages in the Art of Love.
  In the Remedy of Love, l. 351, Ovid speaks of these practices in
  the following terms: “At the moment, too, when she shall be
  smearing her face with the cosmetics laid up on it, you may come
  into the presence of your mistress, and don’t let shame prevent
  you. You will find there boxes, and a thousand colors of objects;
  and you will see ‘oesypum,’ the ointment of the fleece, trickling
  down and flowing upon her heated bosom. These drugs, Phineus,
  smell like thy tables; not once alone has sickness been caused by
  this to my stomach.” Lucretius also, in his Fourth Book, l. 1168,
  speaks of a female who “covers herself with noxious odors, and
  whom her female attendants fly from to a distance, and chuckle by
  stealth.” See also the Mostellaria of Plautus, Act I., Scene 3,
  l. 135, where Philematium is introduced making her toilet on the

  [Footnote 39: _Do hold your peace_)--Ver. 291. “Pax,” literally
  “peace!” in the sense of “Hush!” “Be quiet!” See the Notes to the
  Trinummus of Plautus, ll. 889-891, in Bohn’s Translation.]

  [Footnote 40: _The woof_)--Ver. 293. See an interesting passage on
  the ancient weaving, in the Metamorphoses of Ovid, B. vi., l. 54,
  _et seq._ See also the Epistle of Penelope to Ulysses, in the
  Heroides of Ovid, l. 10, and the Note in Bohn’s English

  [Footnote 41: _She was weaving_)--Ver. 294. This line and part of
  the next are supposed to have been translated almost literally
  from some lines, the composition of Menander, which are still

  [Footnote 42: _Your Bacchis, whom we are bringing_)--Ver. 310.
  Colman has the following remark: “Here we enter upon the other
  part of the table, which the Poet has most artfully complicated
  with the main subject by making Syrus bring Clitipho’s mistress
  along with Antiphila. This part of the story, we know, was not in

  [Footnote 43: _Incur this risk_)--Ver. 337. As to his own

  [Footnote 44: _Upon either ear_)--Ver. 342. “In aurem utramvis,”
  a proverbial expression, implying an easy and secure repose. It is
  also used by Plautus, and is found in a fragment of the Πλοκιὸν,
  or Necklace, a Comedy of Menander.]

  [Footnote 45: _Still do that which I said_)--Ver. 346. “Perge
  porro, tamen istue ago.” Stallbaum observes that the meaning is:
  “Although I’m going off, I’m still attending to what you’re
  saying.” According to Schmieder and others, it means: “Call on
  just as you please, I shall persist in sending Bacchis away.”]

  [Footnote 46: _Such great people_)--Ver. 363. “Quos,” literally,
  “What persons!”]

  [Footnote 47: _Words of double meaning_)--Ver. 372. “Inversa
  verba, eversas cervices tuas.” “Inversa verba” clearly means,
  words with a double meaning, or substituted for others by previous
  arrangement, like correspondence by cipher. Lucretius uses the
  words in this sense, B. i., l. 643. A full account of the secret
  signs and correspondence in use among the ancients will be found
  in the 16th and 17th Epistles of the Heroides of Ovid, in his
  Amours, B. i., El. 4, and in various passages of the Art of Love.
  See also the Asinaria of Plautus, l. 780. It is not known for
  certain what “eversa cervix” here means; it may mean the turning
  of the neck in some particular manner by way of a hint or to give
  a sidelong look, or it may allude to the act of snatching a kiss
  on the sly, which might lead to a discovery.]

  [Footnote 48: _A man whose manners-- those persons_)--Ver. 393.
  “Cujus-- hi;” a change of number by the use of the figure

  [Footnote 49: _I can scarce endure it_)--Ver. 400. Colman has the
  following remark on this passage: “Madame Dacier, contrary to the
  authority of all editions and MSS., adopts a conceit of her
  father’s in this place, and places this speech to Clitipho, whom
  she supposes to have retired to a hiding-place, where he might
  overhear the conversation, and from whence he peeps out to make
  this speech to Syrus. This she calls an agreeable _jeu de
  théâtre_, and doubts not but all lovers of Terence will be obliged
  to her father for so ingenious a remark; but it is to be feared
  that critical sagacity will not be so lavish of acknowledgments as
  filial piety. There does not appear the least foundation for this
  remark in the Scene, nor has the Poet given us the least room to
  doubt of Clitipho being actually departed. To me, instead of an
  agreeable {jeu de théâtre}, it appears a most absurd and
  ridiculous device; particularly vicious in this place, as it most
  injudiciously tends to interrupt the course of Clinia’s more
  interesting passion, so admirably delineated in this little

  [Footnote 50: _It is now daybreak_)--Ver. 410. Though this is the
  only Play which includes more than one day in the action, it is
  not the only one in which the day is represented as breaking. The
  Amphitryon and the Curculio of Plautus commence before daybreak,
  and the action is carried on into the middle of the day. Madame
  Dacier absolutely considers it {as a fact beyond all doubt}, that
  the Roman Audience went home after the first two Acts of the Play,
  and returned for the representation of the third the next morning
  at daybreak. Scaliger was of the same opinion; but it is not
  generally entertained by Commentators.]

  [Footnote 51: _How I was affected_)--Ver. 436. “Ut essem,”
  literally, “How I was.”]

  [Footnote 52: _If a satrap_)--Ver. 452. “Satrapa” was a Persian
  word signifying “a ruler of a province.” The name was considered
  as synonymous with “possessor of wealth almost inexhaustible.”]

  [Footnote 53: _In tasting only_)--Ver. 457. “Pytiso” was the name
  given to the nasty practice of tasting wine, and then spitting it
  out; offensive in a man, but infinitely more so in a woman. It
  seems in those times to have been done by persons who wished to
  give themselves airs in the houses of private persons; at the
  present day it is probably confined to wine-vaults and sale-rooms
  where wine is put up to auction, and even there it is practiced
  much more than is either necessary or agreeable. Doubtless Bacchis
  did it to show her exquisite taste in the matter of wines.]

  [Footnote 54: _Is too acid_)--Ver. 458. “Asperum;” meaning that
  the wine was not old enough for her palate. The great fault of the
  Greek wines was their tartness, for which reason sea-water was
  mixed with them all except the Chian, which was the highest class
  of wine.]

  [Footnote 55: _Respected sir_)--Ver. 459. “Pater,” literally
  “father;” a title by which the young generally addressed aged
  persons who were strangers to them.]

  [Footnote 56: _All the casks, all the vessels_)--Ver. 460. “Dolia
  omnia, omnes serias.” The finer kinds of wine were drawn off from
  the “dolia,” or large vessels, into the “amphoræ,” which, like the
  “dolia,” were made of earth, and sometimes of glass. The mouths of
  the vessels were stopped tight by a plug of wood or cork, which
  was made impervious to the atmosphere by being rubbed over with a
  composition of pitch, clay, wax, or gypsum. On the outside, the
  title of the wine was painted, and among the Romans the date of
  the vintage was denoted by the names of the Consuls then in
  office. When the vessels were of glass, small tickets or labels,
  called “pittacia,” were suspended from them, stating to a similar
  effect. The “seriæ” were much the same as the “dolia,” perhaps
  somewhat smaller; they were both long, bell-mouthed vessels of
  earthen-ware, formed of the best clay, and lined with pitch while
  hot from the furnace. “Seriæ” were also used to contain oil and
  other liquids; and in the Captivi of Plautus the word is applied
  to pans used for the purpose of salting meat. “Relino” signifies
  the act of taking the seal of pitch or wax off the stopper of the

  [Footnote 57: _With that servant of yours_)--Ver. 473. Dromo.]

  [Footnote 58: _What an inlet_)--Ver. 482. “Fenestram;” literally,
  “a window.”]

  [Footnote 59: _This night with my eyes_)--Ver. 491. Colman has the
  following Note here: “Hedelin obstinately contends from this
  passage, that neither Chremes nor any of his family went to bed
  the whole night; the contrary of which is evident, as Menage
  observes, from the two next Scenes. For why should Syrus take
  notice of his being up so early, if he had never retired to rest?
  Or would Chremes have reproached Clitipho for his behavior the
  night before, had the feast never been interrupted? Eugraphius’s
  interpretation of these words is natural and obvious, who explains
  them to signify that the anxiety of Chremes to restore Clinia to
  Menedemus broke his rest.”]

  [Footnote 60: _That they may not perceive_)--Ver. 511. Madame
  Dacier observes that Chremes seizes this as a very plausible and
  necessary pretense to engage Menedemus to return home, and not to
  his labors in the field, as he had at first intended.]

  [Footnote 61: _Old age of an eagle_)--Ver. 521. This was a
  proverbial expression, signifying a hale and vigorous old age. It
  has been suggested, too, that it alludes to the practice of some
  old men, who drink more than they eat. It was vulgarly said that
  eagles never die of old age, and that when, by reason of their
  beaks growing inward, they are unable to feed upon their prey,
  they live by sucking the blood.]

  [Footnote 62: _Not like those of former days_)--Ver. 524. Syrus,
  by showing himself an admirer of the good old times, a “laudator
  temporis acti,” is wishful to flatter the vanity of Chremes, as it
  is a feeling common to old age, perhaps by no means an unamiable
  one, to think former times better than the present. Aged people
  feel grateful to those happy hours when their hopes were bright,
  and every thing was viewed from the sunny side of life.]

  [Footnote 63: _Can no longer support her expenses_)--Ver. 544. He
  refers to Menedemus and Bacchis.]

  [Footnote 64: _But in case, none the more_)--Ver. 555. “Sed si
  quid, ne quid.” An instance of Aposiopesis, signifying “But if any
  thing does happen, don’t you blame me.”]

  [Footnote 65: _And truly, Chremes_)--Ver. 557. Some suppose that
  this is said in apparent candor by Syrus, in order the more
  readily to throw Chremes off his guard. Other Commentators, again,
  fancy these words to be said by Syrus in a low voice, aside, which
  seems not improbable; it being a just retribution on Chremes for
  his recommendation, however well intended: in that case, Chremes
  probably overhears it, if we may judge from his answer.]

  [Footnote 66: _’Tis the truth_)--Ver. 568. “Factum.” “Done for” is
  anothor translation which this word will here admit of.]

  [Footnote 67: _That he does the same_)--Ver. 577. Clinia.]

  [Footnote 68: _Of a prudent and discreet person_)--Ver. 580. This
  is said ironically.]

  [Footnote 69: _Is there but one way_)--Ver. 583. And that an
  immodest one.]

  [Footnote 70: _With your wife_)--Ver. 604. Madame Dacier remarks,
  that as Antiphila is shortly to be acknowledged as the daughter of
  Chremes, she is not therefore in company with the other women at
  the feast, who are Courtesans, but with the wife of Chremes, and
  consequently free from reproach or scandal.]

  [Footnote 71: _Would she really be a security_)--Ver. 606. The
  question of Chremes seems directed to the fact whether the girl is
  of value sufficient to be good security for the thousand drachmæ.]

  [Footnote 72: _You shall soon know_)--Ver. 612. Madame Dacier
  suggests that Chremes is prevented by his wife’s coming from
  making a proposal to advance the money himself, on the supposition
  that it will be a lucrative speculation. This notion is
  contradicted by Colman, who adds the following note from
  Eugraphius: “Syrus pretends to have concerted this plot against
  Menedemus, in order to trick him out of some money to be given to
  Clinia’s supposed mistress. Chremes, however, does not approve of
  this: yet it serves to carry on the plot; for when Antiphila
  proves afterward to be the daughter of Chremes, he necessarily
  becomes the debtor of Bacchis, and is obliged to lay down the sum
  for which he imagines his daughter is pledged.”]

  [Footnote 73: _Has gained a loss_)--Ver. 628. He alludes to
  Clitipho, who, by the discovery of his sister, would not come in
  for such a large share of his father’s property, and would
  consequently, as Syrus observes, gain a loss.]

  [Footnote 74: _That she might not be without_)--Ver. 652. Madame
  Dacier observes upon this passage, that the ancients thought
  themselves guilty of a heinous offense if they suffered their
  children to die without having bestowed on them some of their
  property; it was consequently the custom of the women, before
  exposing children, to attach to them some jewel or trinket among
  their clothes, hoping thereby to avoid incurring the guilt above
  mentioned, and to ease their consciences.]

  [Footnote 75: _Saving of yourself and her_)--Ver. 653. Madame
  Dacier says that the meaning of this passage is this: Chremes
  tells his wife that by having given this ring, she has done two
  good acts instead of one-- she has both cleared her conscience and
  saved the child; for had there been no ring or token exposed with
  the infant, the finder would not have been at the trouble of
  taking care of it, but might have left it to perish, never
  suspecting it would be inquired after, or himself liberally
  rewarded for having preserved it.]

  [Footnote 76: _I see more hopes_)--Ver. 659. Syrus is now alarmed
  that Antiphila should so soon be acknowledged as the daughter of
  Chremes, lest he may lose the opportunity of obtaining the money,
  and be punished as well, in case the imposition is detected, and
  Bacchis discovered to be the mistress of Clitipho and not of

  [Footnote 77: _A man can not be_)--Ver. 666. This he says by way
  of palliating the cruelty he was guilty of in his orders to have
  the child put to death.]

  [Footnote 78: _Unless my fancy deceives me_)--Ver. 668. “Nisi me
  animus fallit.” He comically repeats the very same words with
  which Sostrata commenced in the last Scene.]

  [Footnote 79: _Retribution_)--Ver. 668. “Infortunium!” was the
  name by which the slaves commonly denoted a beating. Colman has
  the following remark here: “Madame Dacier, and most of the later
  critics who have implicitly followed her, tell us that in the
  interval between the third and fourth Acts, Syrus has been present
  at the interview between Chremes and Antiphila within. The only
  difficulty in this doctrine is how to reconcile it to the apparent
  ignorance of Syrus, which he discovers at the entrance of Clinia.
  But this objection, says she, is easily answered. Syrus having
  partly heard Antiphila’s story, and finding things likely to take
  an unfavorable turn, retires to consider what is best to be done.
  But surely this is a most unnatural impatience at so critical a
  conjuncture; and, after all, would it not be better to take up the
  matter just where Terence has left it, and to suppose that Syrus
  knew nothing more of the affair than what might be collected from
  the late conversation between Chremes and Sostrata, at which we
  know he was present? This at once accounts for his apprehensions,
  which he betrayed even during that Scene, as well as for his
  imperfect knowledge of the real state of the case, till apprised
  of the whole by Clinia.”]

  [Footnote 80: _With my sides covered_)--Ver. 673. He most probably
  alludes to the custom of tying up the slaves by their hands, after
  stripping them naked, when of course their “latera” or “sides”
  would be exposed, and come in for a share of the lashes.]

  [Footnote 81: _Runaway money_)--Ver. 678. “Fugitivum argentum.”
  Madame Dacier suggests that this is a bad translation of the words
  of Menander, which were “ἀποστρέψειν τὸν δραπέταν χρυσὸν” where
  “χρυσὸς” signified both “gold” and the name of a slave.]

  [Footnote 82: _If the sky were to fall_)--Ver. 719. He means those
  who create unnecessary difficulties in their imagination. Colman
  quotes the following remark from Patrick: “There is a remarkable
  passage in Arrian’s Account of Alexander, lib. iv., where he tells
  us that some embassadors from the Celtic, being asked by Alexander
  what in the world they dreaded most, answered, ‘That they feared
  lest the sky should fall [upon them].’ Alexander, who expected to
  hear himself named, was surprised at an answer which signified
  that they thought themselves beyond the reach of all human power,
  plainly implying that nothing could hurt them, unless he would
  suppose impossibilities, or a total destruction of nature.”
  Aristotle, in his Physics, B. iv., informs us that it was the
  early notion of ignorant nations that the sky was supported on the
  shoulders of Atlas, and that when he let go of it, it would fall.]

  [Footnote 83: _To a very fine purpose_)--Ver. 723. “Satis pol
  proterve,” &c. C. Lælius was said to have assisted Terence in the
  composition of his Plays, and in confirmation of this, the
  following story is told by Cornelius Nepos: “C. Lælius, happening
  to pass the Matronalia [a Festival on the first of March, when the
  husband, for once in the year, was bound to obey the wife] at his
  villa near Puteoli, was told that dinner was waiting, but still
  neglected the summons. At last, when he made his appearance, he
  excused himself by saying that he had been in a particular vein of
  composition, and quoted certain lines which occur in the
  Heautontimorumenos, namely, those beginning ‘Satis pol proterve me
  Syri promissa huc induxerunt.’”]

  [Footnote 84: _They’re asleep_)--Ver. 730. “Dormiunt.” This is
  clearly used figuratively, though Hedelin interprets it

  [Footnote 85: _Farm here on the right-hand side_)--Ver. 732. Cooke
  suggests that the Poet makes Bacchis call the house of Charinus
  “villa,” and that of Chremes “fundus” (which signifies “a
  farm-house,” or “farm”), for the purpose of exalting the one and
  depreciating the other in the hearing of Syrus.]

  [Footnote 86: _The feast of Bacchus_)--Ver. 733. This passage goes
  far to prove that the Dionysia here mentioned as being celebrated,
  were those κατ᾽ ἀγρους, or the “rural Dionysia.”]

  [Footnote 87: _Let’s be going_)--Ver. 742. Colman here remarks to
  the following effect: “There is some difficulty in this and the
  next speech in the original, and the Commentators have been
  puzzled to make sense of them. It seems to me that the Poet’s
  intention is no more than this: Bacchis expresses some reluctance
  to act under the direction of Syrus, but is at length prevailed
  on, finding that he can by those means contrive to pay her the
  money which he has promised her.”]

  [Footnote 88: _Rigorous law_)--Ver. 796. Cicero mentions the same
  proverb in his work De Officiis, B. i., ch. 10, substituting the
  word “injuria” for “malitia.” “‘Extreme law, extreme injustice,’
  is now become a stale proverb in discourse.” The same sentiment is
  found in the Fragments of Menander.]

  [Footnote 89: _Are sanctioned by custom_)--Ver. 839. He inveighs,
  perhaps justly, against the tyranny of custom; but in selecting
  this occasion for doing so, he does not manifest any great
  affection for his newly-found daughter.]

  [Footnote 90: _Assistant, prompter, and director_)--Ver. 875. The
  three terms here used are borrowed from the stage. “Adjutor” was
  the person who assisted the performers either by voice or gesture;
  “monitor” was the prompter; and “præmonstrator” was the person who
  in the rehearsal trained the actor in his part.]

  [Footnote 91: _Dolt, post, ass_)--Ver. 877. There is a similar
  passage in the Bacchides of Plautus, l. 1087. “Whoever there are
  in any place whatsoever, whoever have been, and whoever shall be
  in time to come, fools, blockheads, idiots, dolts, sots, oafs,
  lubbers, I singly by far exceed them all in folly and absurd

  [Footnote 92: _Mould the countenances of people_)--Ver. 887. He
  means that Syrus not only lays his plots well, but teaches the
  performers to put on countenances suitable to the several parts
  they are to act.]

  [Footnote 93: _Has moulded your son_)--Ver. 898. “Mire finxit.” He
  sarcastically uses the same word, “fingo,” which Chremes himself
  employed in l. 887.]

  [Footnote 94: _Substance to suffice for ten days_)--Ver. 909.
  “Familia” here means “property,” as producing sustenance. Colman,
  however, has translated the passage: “Mine is scarce a ten-days’

  [Footnote 95: _ His she-friend rather_)--Ver. 911. Menedemus
  speaks of “amico,” a male friend, which Chremes plays upon by
  saying “amicae,” which literally meant a she-friend, and was the
  usual name by which decent people called a mistress.]

  [Footnote 96: _And forsake you_)--Ver. 924. Madame Dacier observes
  here, that one of the great beauties of this Scene consists in
  Chremes retorting on Menedemus the very advice given by himself at
  the beginning of the Play.]

  [Footnote 97: _Which he has done to me_)--Ver. 954. Colman has the
  following Note: “The departure of Menedemus here is very abrupt,
  seeming to be in the midst of a conversation; and his re-entrance
  with Clitipho, already supposed to be apprised of what has passed
  between the two old gentlemen, is equally precipitate. Menage
  imagines that some verses are lost here. Madame Dacier strains
  hard to defend the Poet, and fills up the void of time by her old
  expedient of making the Audience wait to see Chremes walk
  impatiently to and fro, till a sufficient time is elapsed for
  Menedemus to have given Clitipho a summary account of the cause of
  his father’s anger. The truth is, that a too strict observance of
  the unity of place will necessarily produce such absurdities; and
  there are several other instances of the like nature in Terence.”]

  [Footnote 98: _Intrusted every thing_)--Ver. 966. This is an early
  instance of a trusteeship and a guardianship.]

  [Footnote 99: _It’s all over_)--Ver. 974. “Ilicet,” literally,
  “you may go away.” This was the formal word with which funeral
  ceremonies and trials at law were concluded.]

  [Footnote 100: _Look out for an altar_)--Ver. 975. He alludes to
  the practice of slaves taking refuge at altars when they had
  committed any fault, and then suing for pardon through a
  “precator” or “mediator.” See the Mostellaria of Plautus, l. 1074,
  where Tranio takes refuge at the altar from the vengeance of his
  master, Theuropides.]

  [Footnote 101: _Amounts to the same thing_)--Ver. 1010. “Quam
  quidem redit ad integrum eadem oratio;” meaning, “it amounts to
  one and the same thing,” or, “it is all the same thing,” whether
  you do or whether you don’t know.]

  [Footnote 102: _Because my daughter has been found_)--Ver. 1018.
  This sentence has given much trouble to the Commentators. Colman
  has the following just remarks upon it: “Madame Dacier, as well as
  all the rest of the Commentators, has stuck at these words. Most
  of them imagine she means to say, that the discovery of Antiphila
  is a plain proof that she is not barren. Madame Dacier supposes
  that she intimates such a proof to be easy, because Clitipho and
  Antiphila were extremely alike; which sense she thinks immediately
  confirmed by the answer of Chremes. I can not agree with any of
  them, and think that the whole difficulty of the passage here, as
  in many other places, is entirely of their own making. Sostrata
  could not refer to the reply of Chremes, because she could not
  possibly tell what it would be; but her own speech is intended as
  an answer to his preceding one, which she takes as a sneer on her
  late wonderful discovery of a daughter; imagining that he means to
  insinuate that she could at any time with equal ease make out the
  proofs of the birth of her son. The elliptical mode of expression
  so usual with Terence, together with the refinements of
  Commentators, seem to have created all the obscurity.”]

  [Footnote 103: _By your profligacy_)--Ver. 1036. It is probably
  this ebullition of Comic anger which is referred to by Horace, in
  his Art of Poetry:

    “Interdum tamen et vocem Comœdia tollit,
    Iratusque Chremes tumido delitigat ore:”

  “Yet sometimes Comedy as well raises her voice, and enraged
  Chremes censures in swelling phrase.”]

  [Footnote 104: _I don’t know as to the Gods_)--Ver. 1037. “Deos
  nescio.” The Critic Lambinis, in his letter to Charles the Ninth
  of France, accuses Terence of impiety in this passage. Madame
  Dacier has, however, well observed, that the meaning is not “I
  care not for the Gods,” but “I know not what the Gods will do.”]

  [Footnote 105: _And close with the offer_)--Ver. 1048. “Firmas.”
  This ratification or affirmation would be made by Menedemus using
  the formal word “Accipio,” “I accept.”]

  [Footnote 106: _Freckled face_)--Ver. 1060. Many take “sparso ore”
  here to mean “wide-mouthed.” Lemonnier thinks that must be the
  meaning, as he has analyzed the other features of her countenance.
  There is, however, no reason why he should not speak of her
  complexion; and it seems, not improbably, to have the same meaning
  as the phrase “os lentiginosum,” “a freckled face.”]

       *       *       *       *       *
           *       *       *       *



  DEMEA,[1] Brother, aged Athenian.
  MICIO,[2] Brother, aged Athenian.
  HEGIO,[3] an aged Athenian, kinsman of Sostrata.
  ÆSCHINUS,[4] son of Demea, adopted by Micio.
  CTESIPHO,[5] another son of Demea.
  SANNIO,[6] a Procurer.
  GETA,[7] servant of Sostrata.
  PARMENO,[8] servant of Micio.
  SYRUS,[9] servant of Micio.
  DROMO,[10] servant of Micio.
  PAMPHILA,[11] a young woman beloved by Æschinus.
  SOSTRATA,[12] a widow, mother of Pamphila.
  CANTHARA,[13] a Nurse.
  A Music-girl.

_Scene._--Athens; before the houses of MICIO and SOSTRATA.


MICIO and DEMEA are two brothers of dissimilar tempers. Demea is
married, and lives a country life, while his brother remains single,
and resides in Athens. Demea has two sons, the elder of whom,
Æschinus, has been adopted by Micio. Being allowed by his indulgent
uncle to gratify his inclinations without restraint, Æschinus has
debauched Pamphila, the daughter of a widow named Sostrata. Having,
however, promised to marry the young woman, he has been pardoned for
the offense, and it has been kept strictly secret. Ctesipho, who lives
in the country with his father under great restraint, on visiting the
city, falls in love with a certain Music-girl, who belongs to the
Procurer Sannio. To screen his brother, Æschinus takes the
responsibility of the affair on himself, and succeeds in carrying off
the girl for him. Demea, upon hearing of this, censures Micio for his
ill-timed indulgence, the bad effects of which are thus exemplified in
Æschinus; and at the same time lauds the steady conduct and frugality
of Ctesipho, who has been brought up under his own supervision.
Shortly after this, Sostrata hears the story about the Music-girl, at
the very time that her daughter Pamphila is in labor. She naturally
supposes that Æschinus has deserted her daughter for another, and
hastens to acquaint Hegio, her kinsman, with the fact. Meantime Demea
learns that Ctesipho has taken part in carrying off the Music-girl,
whereon Syrus invents a story, and screens Ctesipho for the moment.
Demea is next informed by Hegio of the conduct of Æschinus toward
Pamphila. Wishing to find his brother, he is purposely sent on a
fruitless errand by Syrus, on which he wanders all over the city to no
purpose. Micio having now been informed by Hegio, and knowing that the
intentions of Æschinus toward Pamphila are not changed, accompanies
him to the house of Sostrata, whom he consoles by his promise that
Æschinus shall marry her daughter. Demea then returns from his search,
and, rushing into Micio’s house, finds his son Ctesipho there
carousing; on which he exclaims vehemently against Micio, who uses his
best endeavors to soothe him, and finally with success. He now
determines to become kind and considerate for the future. At his
request, Pamphila is brought to Micio’s house; and the nuptials are
celebrated. Micio, at the earnest request of Demea and Æschinus,
marries Sostrata; Hegio has a competency allowed him; and Syrus and
his wife Phrygia are made free. The Play concludes with a serious
warning from Demea, who advises his relatives not to squander their
means in riotous living; but, on the contrary, to bear admonition and
to submit to restraint in a spirit of moderation and thankfulness.


Performed at the Funeral Games of Æmilius Paulus,[14] which were
celebrated by Q. Fabius Maximus and P. Cornelius Africanus. L. Atilius
Prænestinus and Minutius Prothimus performed it. Flaccus, the freedman
of Claudius, composed the music for Sarranian flutes.[15] Taken from
the Greek of Menander, L. Anicius and M. Cornelius being Consuls.[16]



As Demea has two {sons}, young men, he gives Æschinus to his brother
Micio to be adopted {by him}; but he retains Ctesipho: him, captivated
with the charms of a Music-girl, {and} under a harsh and strict
father, his brother Æschinus screens; the scandal of the affair and
the amour he takes upon himself; at last, he carries the Music-girl
away from the Procurer. This same Æschinus has {previously} debauched
a poor woman, a citizen of Athens, and has given his word that she
shall be his wife. Demea upbraids him, {and} is greatly vexed;
afterward, however, when the truth is discovered, Æschinus marries
{the girl} who has been debauched; {and}, his harsh father Demea {now}
softened, Ctesipho retains the Music-girl.


Since the Poet has found that his writings are carped at by unfair
{critics}, and that his adversaries represent in a bad light {the
Play} that we are about to perform, he shall give information about
himself; you shall be the judges whether this ought to be esteemed to
his praise or to his discredit. The Synapothnescontes[17] is a Comedy
of Diphilus;[18] Plautus made it into a Play {called} the
“Commorientes.” In the Greek, there is a young man, who, at the early
part of the Play, carries off a Courtesan from a Procurer; that part
Plautus has entirely left out. This portion he has adopted in the
Adelphi, {and} has transferred it, translated word for word. This new
{Play} we are about to perform; determine {then} whether you think a
theft has been committed, or a passage has been restored to notice
which has been passed over in neglect. For as to what these malevolent
persons say, that men of noble rank assist him, and are always writing
in conjunction with him-- that which they deem to be a heavy
crimination, he takes to be the highest praise; since he pleases those
who please you all and the public; the aid of whom in war, in peace,
in private business,[19] each one has availed himself of, on his own
occasion, without {any} haughtiness {on their part}. Now then, do not
expect the plot of the Play; the old men[20] who come first will
disclose it in part; a part in the representation they will make
known. Do you cause your impartial attention to increase the industry
of the Poet in writing.



  _Enter MICIO, calling to a servant within._

MIC. Storax! Æschinus has not returned {home} from the entertainment
last night, nor any of the servants who went to fetch him.[21] (_To
himself._) Really, they say it with reason, if you are absent any
where, or if you stay abroad at any time, ’twere better for that to
happen which {your} wife says against you, and which in her passion
she imagines in her mind, than the things which fond parents {fancy}.
A wife, if you stay long abroad, either imagines that you are in love
or are beloved, or that you are drinking and indulging your
inclination, and that you only are taking your pleasure, while she
herself is miserable. As for myself, in consequence of my son not
having returned home, what do I imagine? In what ways am I not
disturbed? For fear lest he may either have taken cold,[22] or have
fallen down somewhere, or have broken some {limb}. Oh dear! that any
man should take it into his head, or find out what is dearer {to him}
than he is to himself! And yet he is not my son, but my brother’s. He
is quite different in disposition. I, from my very youth upward, have
lived a comfortable town life, and {taken} my ease; and, what they
esteem a piece of luck, I have never had a wife. He, on the contrary
to all this, has spent his life in the country, {and} has always lived
laboriously and penuriously. He married a wife, {and} has two sons.
This one, the elder of them, I have adopted. I have brought him up
from an infant, {and} considered {and} loved him as my own. In him I
centre my delight; this {object} alone is dear to me. On the other
hand, I take all due care that he may hold me equally dear. I give-- I
overlook; I do not judge it necessary to exert my authority in every
thing; in fine, the things that youth prompts to, {and} that others do
unknown to their fathers, I have used my son not to conceal from me.
For he, who, as the practice is, will dare to tell a lie to or to
deceive his father, will still more dare {to do so} to others. I think
it better to restrain children through a sense of shame and liberal
treatment, than through fear. On these points my brother does not
agree with me, nor do they please him. He often comes to me
exclaiming, “What are you about, Micio? Why do you ruin for us this
youth? Why does he intrigue? Why does he drink? Why do you supply him
with the means for these goings on? You indulge him with too much
dress; you are very inconsiderate.” He himself is too strict, beyond
what is just and reasonable; and he is very much mistaken, in my
opinion, at all events, who thinks that an authority is more firm or
more lasting which is established by force, than that which is founded
on affection. Such is my mode of reasoning; and thus do I persuade
myself. He, who, compelled by harsh treatment, does his duty, so long
as he thinks it will be known, is on his guard: if he hopes that it
will be concealed, he again returns to his natural bent. He whom you
have secured by kindness, acts from inclination; he is anxious to
return like for like; present and absent, he will be the same. This is
the duty of a parent, to accustom a son to do what is right rather of
his own choice, than through fear of another. In this the father
differs from the master: he who can not do this, let him confess that
he does not know how to govern children. But is not this the very man
of whom I was speaking? Surely it is he. I don’t know why it is I see
him out of spirits; I suppose he’ll now be scolding as usual. Demea,
I am glad to see you well.[23]


  _Enter DEMEA._

DEM. Oh,-- opportunely met; you are the very man I was looking

MIC. Why are you out of spirits?

DEM. Do you ask me, when we have {such a son as} Æschinus,[25] why I’m
out of spirits?

MIC. (_aside._) Did I not say it would be so? (_To DEMEA._) What has
he been doing?

DEM. What has he been doing? He, who is ashamed of nothing, and fears
no one, nor thinks that any law can control him. But I pass by what
has been previously done: what a thing he has just perpetrated!

MIC. Why, what is it?

DEM. He has broken open a door,[26] and forced his way into another
person’s house, beaten to death the master himself, and all the
household, {and} carried off a wench whom he had a fancy for. All
people are exclaiming that it was a most disgraceful proceeding. How
many, Micio, told me of this as I was coming here? It is in every
body’s mouth. In fine, if an example must be cited, does he not see
his brother giving his attention to business, {and} living frugally
and soberly in the country? No action of his {is} like this. When I
say this to him, Micio, I say it to you. You allow him to be

MIC. Never is there any thing more unreasonable than a man who wants
experience, who thinks nothing right except what he himself has done.

DEM. What is the meaning of that?

MIC. Because, Demea, you misjudge these matters. It is no heinous
crime, believe me, for a young man to intrigue or to drink; it is not;
nor yet for him to break open a door. If neither I nor you did so, it
was poverty that did not allow us to do {so}. Do you now claim that as
a merit to yourself, which you then did from necessity? That is
unfair; for if we had had the means to do so, we should have done {the
same}. And, if you were a man, you would now suffer that {other son}
of yours to act {thus} now, while his age will excuse it, rather than,
when he has got you, after long wishing it, out of the way, he should
still do {so}, at a future day, {and} at an age more unsuited.

DEM. O Jupiter! You, sir, are driving me to distraction. Is it not a
heinous thing for a young man to do these things?

MIC. Oh! do listen to me, and do not everlastingly din me upon this
subject. You gave me your son to adopt; he became mine; if he offends
in any thing, Demea, he offends against me: in that case I shall bear
the greater part {of the inconvenience}. Does he feast,[27] does he
drink, does he smell of perfumes,[28]-- it is at my cost. Does he
intrigue, money shall be found by me, so long as it suits me; when it
shall be no {longer convenient}, probably he’ll be shut out of
doors.[29] Has he broken open a door-- it shall be replaced; has he
torn any one’s clothes-- they shall be mended. Thanks to the Gods,
I both have means for doing this, and {these things} are not as yet an
annoyance. In fine, either desist, or else find some arbitrator
{between us}: I will show that in this matter you are the most to

DEM. Ah me! Learn to be a father from those who are really so.

MIC. You are his father by nature, I by my anxiety.

DEM. You, feel any anxiety?

MIC. Oh dear,-- if you persist, I’ll leave you.

DEM. Is it thus you act?

MIC. Am I so often to hear about the same thing?

DEM. I have some concern {for my son}.

MIC. I have some concern {for him} too; but, Demea, let us each be
concerned for his own share-- you for the one, and I for the other.
For, to concern yourself about both is almost the same thing as to
demand him back again, whom you intrusted to me.

DEM. Alas, Micio!

MIC. So it seems to me.

DEM. What {am I to say} to this? If it pleases you, {henceforth}-- let
him spend, squander, {and} destroy; it’s nothing to me. If I {say} one
word after this----

MIC. Again angry, Demea?

DEM. Won’t you believe me? Do I demand him back whom I have intrusted?
I am concerned for him; I am not a stranger in blood; if I do
interpose-- well, well, I have done. You desire me to concern myself
for one {of them},-- I do concern myself; and I give thanks to the
Gods, he is just as I would have him; that fellow of yours will find
it out at a future day: I don’t wish to say any thing more harsh
against him. (_Exit._


  _MICIO alone._

MIC. These things are[30] not nothing at all, nor yet all just as he
says; still they do give me some uneasiness; but I was unwilling to
show him that I took them amiss, for he is such a man; when I would
pacify him, I steadily oppose and resist {him}; {and} in spite of it
he hardly puts up with it like other men; but if I were to inflame, or
even to humor his anger, I should certainly be as mad as himself. And
yet Æschinus has done me some injustice in this affair. What courtesan
has he not intrigued with? Or to which {of them} has he not made some
present? At last, he recently told me that he wished to take a
wife,[31] I suppose he was just then tired of them all. I was in hopes
that the warmth of youth had now subsided; I was delighted. But look
{now}, he is at it again; however, I am determined to know it,
whatever it is, and to go meet the fellow, if he is at the Forum.



  _Enter ÆSCHINUS and PARMENO with the MUSIC-GIRL, followed by SANNIO
  and a crowd of people._

SAN. I beseech you, fellow-citizens, do give aid to a miserable and
innocent man; do assist the distressed.

ÆSCH. (_to the GIRL._) Be quiet, and now then stand here just where
you are. Why do you look back? There’s no danger; he shall never touch
you while I am here.

SAN. I’ll {have} her, in spite of all.

ÆSCH. Though he is a villain, he’ll not risk, to-day, getting a
second beating.

SAN. Hear me, Aeschinus, that you may not say that you were in
ignorance of my calling; I am a Procurer.[32]

ÆSCH. I know it.

SAN. And of as high a character as any one ever was. When you shall be
excusing yourself by-and-by, how that you wish this injury had not
been done me, I shall not value it this (_snapping his fingers_).
Depend upon it, I’ll prosecute my rights; and you shall never pay with
words for the evil that you have done me in deed. I know those {ways}
of yours: “I wish it hadn’t happened; I’ll take my oath that you did
not deserve this injustice;” while I myself have been treated in a
disgraceful manner.

ÆSCH. (_to PARMENO._) Go first with all dispatch and open the door.
(_PARMENO opens the door._)

SAN. But you will avail nothing by this.

ÆSCH. (_To the GIRL._) Now then, step in.

SAN. (_coming between._) But I’ll not let her.

ÆSCH. Step this way, Parmeno; you are gone too far that way; here
(_pointing_), stand close by him; there, that’s what I want. Now then,
take care you don’t move your eyes in any direction from mine, that
there may be no delay if I give you the sign, to your fist being
instantly planted in his jaws.

SAN. I’d have him then try that.

ÆSCH. (_to PARMENO._) Now then, observe me.

PAR. (_to SANNIO._) Let go the woman. (_Strikes him._)

SAN. Oh! scandalous deed!

ÆSCH. He shall repeat it, if you don’t take care. (_PARMENO strikes
him again._)

SAN. Oh shocking!

ÆSCH. (_to PARMENO._) I didn’t give the sign; but still make your
mistakes on that side in preference. Now then, go. (_PARMENO goes with
the MUSIC-GIRL into MICIO’S house._)

SAN. What is the meaning of this? Have you the sway here, Aeschinus?

ÆSCH. If I had it, you should be exalted for your deserts.

SAN. What business have you with me?

ÆSCH. None.

SAN. How then, do you know who I am?

ÆSCH. I don’t want to.

SAN. Have I touched any thing of yours?

ÆSCH. If you had touched it, you’d have got a drubbing.

SAN. What greater right then have you to take my {property}, for which
I paid {my} money? Answer me that.

ÆSCH. It were better for you not to be making a disturbance here
before the house; for if you persist in being impertinent, you shall
be dragged in at once, and there you shall be lashed to death with

SAN. A free man, with whips?

ÆSCH. So it shall be.

SAN. Oh, you shameless fellow! Is this the place where they say there
is equal liberty for all?

ÆSCH. If you have now raved enough, Procurer, now then listen, if you

SAN. Why, is it I that have been raving, or you against me?

ÆSCH. Leave alone {all} that, and come to the point.

SAN. What point? Where am I to come to?

ÆSCH. Are you willing now that I should say something that concerns

SAN. With all my heart, only so it be something that’s fair.

ÆSCH. Very fine! a Procurer wishing me not to say what’s unfair.

SAN. I am a Procurer,[33] I confess it-- the common bane of youth-- a
perjurer, a {public} nuisance; still, no injury has befallen you from

ÆSCH. Why, faith, that remains to come----

SAN. Pray, Æschinus, do come back to the point at which you set out.

ÆSCH. You bought her for twenty minæ; and may your bargain never
thrive! That sum shall be given {for her}.

SAN. What if I don’t choose to sell her to you? Will you compel me?

ÆSCH. By no means.

SAN. I was afraid you would.

ÆSCH. Neither do I think that a woman can be sold who is free; for I
claim her by action of freedom.[34] Now consider which you choose;
take the money, or prepare yourself for the action. Think of it,
Procurer, till I return.[35] (_He goes into the house of MICIO._)


  _SANNIO alone._

SAN. (_to himself._) O supreme Jupiter! I do by no means wonder that
men run mad through ill usage. He has dragged me out of my house,
beaten me, taken my {property} away against my will, {and} has given
me, unfortunate wretch, more than five hundred blows. In return for
all this ill usage he demands {the girl} to be made over to him for
just the same price at which she was bought. But however, since he has
{so well} deserved {of me}, be it so: he demands what is his due. Very
well, I consent then, provided he only gives the money. But I suspect
this; when I have said that I will sell her for so much, he’ll be
getting witnesses forthwith that I have sold her.[36] As to getting
the money, it’s all a dream. {Call again} by and by; come back
to-morrow. I could bear with that too, hard as it is, if he would only
pay it. But I consider this to be the fact; when you take up this
trade, you must brook and bear in silence the affronts of {these}
young fellows. However, no one will pay me; it’s in vain for me to be
reckoning upon that.


  _Enter SYRUS, from the house of MICIO._

SYR. (_speaking to ÆSCHINUS within._) Say no more; I myself will
arrange with him; I’ll make him glad to take the money at once, and
say besides that he has been fairly dealt with. (_Addressing SANNIO._)
Sannio, how is this, that I hear you have been having some dispute or
other with my master?

SAN. I never saw a dispute on more unequal terms[37] than the one that
has happened to-day between us; I, with being thumped, he, with
beating me, were both of us quite tired.

SYR. Your own fault.

SAN. What could I do?

SYR. You ought to have yielded to the young man.

SAN. How could I more so, when to-day I have even afforded my face to
his blows?

SYR. Well-- are you aware of what I tell you? To slight money on some
occasions is sometimes the surest gain. What! --were you afraid, you
greatest simpleton alive, if you had parted with ever so little[38] of
your right, and had humored the young man, that he would not repay you
with interest?

SAN. I do not pay ready money for hope.

SYR. {Then} you’ll never make a fortune. Get out with you, Sannio; you
don’t know how to take in mankind.

SAN. I believe that to be the better {plan}-- but I was never so
cunning as not, whenever I was able to get it, to prefer getting ready

SYR. Come, come, I know your spirit; as if twenty minæ were any thing
at all to you in comparison to obliging him; besides, they say that
you are setting out for Cyprus----

SAN. (_aside._) Hah!

SYR. That you have been buying up many things to take thither; {and}
that the vessel is hired. This I know, your mind is in suspense;
however, when you return thence, I hope you’ll settle the matter.

SAN. Not a foot {do I stir}: Heavens! I’m undone! (_Aside._) It was
upon this hope they devised their project.

SYR. (_aside._) He is alarmed. I’ve brought the fellow into a fix.

SAN. (_aside._) Oh, what villainy! --Just look at that; how he has
nicked me in the very joint.[39] Several women have been purchased,
and other things as well, for me to take to Cyprus.[40] If I don’t get
there to the fair, my loss will be very great. Then if I postpone this
{business}, and settle it when I come back from there, it will be of
no use; the matter will be quite forgotten. “Come at last?” {they’ll
say}. “Why did you delay it? Where have you been?” So that I had
better lose it altogether than either stay here so long, or be suing
for it then.

SYR. Have you by this reckoned[41] up what you calculate will be your

SAN. Is this honorable of him? Ought Æschinus to attempt this? Ought
he to endeavor to take her away from me by downright violence?

SYR. (_aside._) He gives ground. (_To SANNIO._) I have this one
{proposal to make}; see if you fully approve of it. Rather than you
should run the risk, Sannio, of getting or losing the whole, halve it.
He will manage to scrape together ten minæ[42] from some quarter or

SAN. Ah me! unfortunate wretch, I am now in danger of even losing part
of the principal. Has he no shame? He has loosened all my teeth; my
head, too, is full of bumps with his cuffs; and would he defraud me as
well? I shall go nowhere.

SYR. Just as you please. Have you any thing more to say before I go?

SAN. Why yes, Syrus, i’ faith, I have this to request. Whatever the
matters that are past, rather than go to law, let what is my own be
returned me; at least, Syrus, the sum she cost me. I know that you
have not hitherto made trial of my friendship; you will have no
occasion to say that I am unmindful or ungrateful.

SYR. I’ll do the best I can. But I see Ctesipho; he’s in high spirits
about his mistress.

SAN. What about what I was asking you?

SYR. Stay a little.


  _Enter CTESIPHO, at the other side of the stage._

CTES. From any man, when you stand in need of it, you are glad to
receive a service; but of a truth it is doubly acceptable, if he does
you a kindness who ought to do so. O brother, brother, how can I
sufficiently commend you? This I am quite sure of; I can never speak
of you in such high terms but that your deserts will surpass it. For I
am of opinion that I possess this one thing in especial beyond all
others, a brother than whom no individual is more highly endowed with
the highest qualities.

SYR. O Ctesipho!

CTES. O Syrus, where is Æschinus?

SYR. Why, look-- he’s at home, waiting for you.

CTES. (_speaking joyously._) Ha!

SYR. What’s the matter?

CTES. What’s the matter? ’Tis through him, Syrus, that I am now
alive-- generous creature! Has he not deemed every thing of secondary
importance to himself in comparison with my happiness? The reproach,
the discredit, my own amour and imprudence, he has taken upon himself.
There can be nothing beyond this; but what means that noise at the

SYR. Stay, stay; ’tis {Æschinus} himself coming out.


  _Enter ÆSCHINUS, from the house of MICIO._

ÆSCH. Where is that villain?

SAN. (_aside._) He’s looking for me.[43] Is he bringing any thing
{with him}? Confusion! I don’t see any thing.

ÆSCH. (_to CTESIPHO._) Ha! well met; you are the very man I was
looking for. How goes it, Ctesipho? All is safe: away then with your

CTES. By my troth, I certainly will away with it, when I have such a
brother as you. O my {dear} Æschinus! O my brother! Alas! I am
unwilling to praise you any more to your face, lest you should think I
do so rather for flattery than through gratitude.

ÆSCH. Go to, you simpleton! as though we didn’t by this time
understand each other, Ctesipho. This grieves me, that we knew of it
almost too late, and that the matter had come to such a pass, that if
all mankind had wished they could not possibly have assisted you.

CTES. I felt ashamed.

ÆSCH. Pooh! that is folly, not shame; about such a trifling matter
{to be} almost {flying} the country![44] ’Tis shocking to be
mentioned; I pray the Gods may forbid it!

CTES. I did wrong.

ÆSCH. (_in a lower voice._) What says Sannio to us at last?

SYR. He is pacified at last.

ÆSCH. I’ll go to the Forum to pay him off; you, Ctesipho, {step}
in-doors to her.

SAN. (_aside to SYRUS._) Syrus, do urge {the matter}.

SYR. (_to ÆSCHINUS._) Let us be off, for he is in haste for

SAN. Not particularly so; although still, I’m stopping here doing
nothing at all.

SYR. It shall be paid, don’t fear.

SAN. But he is to pay it all.

SYR. He shall pay it all; only hold your tongue and follow {us} this

SAN. I’ll follow.

CTES. (_as SYRUS is going._) Harkye, harkye, Syrus.

SYR. (_turning back._) Well now, what is it?

CTES. (_aside._) Pray do discharge that most abominable fellow as soon
as possible; for fear, in case he should become more angry, by some
means or other this matter should reach my father, and then I should
be ruined forever.

SYR. That shall not happen, be of good heart; meanwhile enjoy yourself
in-doors with her, and onder the couches[46] to be spread for us, and
the other things to be got ready. As soon as {this} business is
settled, I shall come home with the provisions.

CTES. Pray {do} so. Since this has turned out so well, let us make a
cheerful day of it. (_CTESIPHO goes into the house of MICIO; and
exeunt ÆSCHINUS and SYRUS, followed by SANNIO._)



  _Enter SOSTRATA and CANTHARA, from the house of the former._

SOS. Prithee, my {dear} nurse, how is it like to end?

CAN. Like to end, do you ask? I’troth, right well, I trust.

SOS. Her pains are just beginning, my dear.

CAN. You are in a fright now, just as though you had never been
present {on such an occasion}-- never been in labor yourself.

SOS. Unfortunate woman that I am! I have not a person {at home}; we
are quite alone; Geta too is absent. I have no one to go for the
midwife, or to fetch Æschinus.

CAN. I’faith, he’ll certainly be here just now, for he never lets a
day pass without visiting us.

SOS. He is my sole comfort in my afflictions.

CAN. Things could not have happened, mistress, more for the advantage
of your daughter than they have, seeing that violence was offered her;
so far as he is concerned, it is most lucky,-- such a person, of such
disposition and feelings, a member of so respectable a family.

SOS. It is indeed as you say; I entreat the Gods that he may be
preserved to us. (_They stand apart, on seeing GETA._)


  _Enter GETA, on the other side of the stage._

GETA (_to himself._) Now such is {our condition}, that if all were to
combine all their counsels, and to seek a remedy for this mischief
that has befallen myself, my mistress, and her daughter, they could
find no relief. Oh wretched me! so many calamities beset us on a
sudden, we can not possibly extricate ourselves. Violence, poverty,
oppression, desertion, infamy! What an age is this! O {shocking}
villainy! O accursed race! O impious man!--

SOS. Unhappy me! How is it that I see Geta hurrying along thus

GETA (_continuing._) Whom neither promises, nor oaths, nor compassion
could move or soften; nor yet the fact that the delivery was nigh at
hand of the unfortunate woman on whom he had so shamefully committed

SOS. (_apart to CANTHARA._) I don’t well understand what he is talking

CAN. Pray, let us go nearer to him, Sostrata.

GETA (_continuing._) Ah wretched me! I am scarcely master of my
senses, I am so inflamed with anger. There is nothing that I would
like better than for all that family to be thrown in my way, that I
might give vent to all {my} wrath upon them while this wound is still
fresh. I could be content with any punishment, so I might only wreak
my vengeance on them. First, I would stop the breath of the old fellow
himself who gave being to this monster; then as for his prompter,
Syrus, out upon him! how I would tear him piecemeal! I would snatch
him by the middle up aloft, and dash him head downward upon the earth,
so that with his brains he would bestrew the road: I would pull out
the eyes of the young fellow himself, {and} afterward hurl him
headlong {over some precipice}. The others I would rush upon, drive,
drag, crush, and trample them {under foot}. But why do I delay at once
to acquaint my mistress with this calamity? (_Moves as if going._)

SOS. (_to CANTHARA._) Let us call him back. Geta----

GETA. Well-- leave me alone,[47] whoever you are.

SOS. ’Tis I,-- Sostrata.

GETA (_turning round._) Why, where are you? You are the very person I
am looking for. I was in quest of you; it’s very fortunate you have
met me.

SOS. What’s the matter? Why are you trembling?

GETA. Alas! Alas!

SOS. My {dear} Geta, why in such haste? Do take breath.

GETA. Quite-- (_pauses._)

SOS. Why, what means this “quite”?

GETA. Undone-- It’s all over with us.

SOS. Say, then, I entreat you, what is the matter.

GETA. Now----

SOS. What “now,” Geta?

GETA. Æschinus----

SOS. What about him?

GETA. Has abandoned our family.

SOS. Then I am undone! Why so?

GETA. He has attached himself to another woman.

SOS. Woe unto wretched me!

GETA. And he makes no secret of it; he himself has carried her off
openly from a procurer.

SOS. Are you quite sure of this?

GETA. Quite sure; I saw it myself, Sostrata, with these same eyes.

SOS. Ah wretched me! What is one now to believe, or whom believe? Our
own Æschinus, the {very} life of us all, in whom all our hopes and
comforts were centred! Who used to swear he could never live a single
day without her! Who used to say, that he would place the infant on
his father’s knees,[48] {and} thus entreat that he might be allowed to
make her his wife!

GETA. {Dear} mistress, forbear weeping, and rather consider what must
be done for the future in this matter. Shall we submit to it, or shall
we tell it to any person?

CAN. Pooh, pooh! are you in your senses, my {good} man? Does this seem
to you a business to be made known to any one?

GETA. I, indeed, have no wish for it. In the first place, then, that
his feelings are estranged from us, the thing itself declares. Now, if
we make this known, he’ll deny it, I’m quite sure; your reputation and
your daughter’s character will {then} be in danger. On the other hand,
if he were fully to confess it, as he is in love with another woman,
it would not be to her advantage to be given to him. Therefore, under
either circumstance, there is need of silence.

SOS. Oh! by no means in the world! I’ll not do it.

GETA. What is it you say?

SOS. I’ll make it known.

GETA. Ha, my {dear} Sostrata, take care what you do!

SOS. The matter can not possibly be in a worse position than it is at
present. In the first place, she has no portion; then, besides, that
which was as good as a portion, {her honor}, is lost: she can not be
given in marriage as a virgin. This {resource} is left; if he should
deny it, I have a ring which he lost as evidence {of the truth}. In
fine, Geta, as I am fully conscious that no blame attaches to me, and
that neither interest nor any consideration unworthy of her or of
myself has had a share in this matter, I will make trial----

GETA. What am I to say to this? I agree, as you speak for the best.

SOS. You be off as fast as possible, and relate all the matter just as
it has happened to her kinsman Hegio; for he was the best friend of
our {lamented} Simulus, and has shown especial regard for us.

GETA. (_aside._) Aye, faith, because nobody else takes any notice {of

SOS. Do you, my {dear} Canthara, run with all haste, {and} fetch the
midwife, so that, when she is wanted, we may not have to wait for her.
(_SOSTRATA goes into the house, and exit GETA and CANTHARA._)


  _Enter DEMEA._

DEM. (_to himself._) Utterly undone! I hear that Ctesipho was with
Æschinus at the carrying off {of this girl}. This sorrow {still}
remains for unhappy me, should {Æschinus} be able to seduce him, even
him, who promises so fair, to a course of debauchery. Where am I to
inquire for him? I doubt he has been carried off to some bad house;
that profligate has persuaded him, I’m quite sure. But look-- I see
Syrus coming {this way}, I shall now know from him where he is. But,
i’faith, he is one of the gang; if he perceives that I am looking for
him, the rascal will never tell me. I’ll not let him know what I want.


  _Enter SYRUS, at the other side of the stage._

SYR. (_to himself._) We just now told the old gentleman the whole
affair just as it happened; I never did see any one more delighted.

DEM. (_apart._) O Jupiter! the folly of the man!

SYR. (_continuing._) He commended his son. To me, who put them upon
this project, he gave thanks----

DEM. (_apart_) I shall burst asunder.

SYR. (_continuing._) He told down the money instantly, {and} gave me
half a mina besides to spend. That was laid out quite to my liking.

DEM. (_apart._) Very fine-- if you would wish a thing to be nicely
managed, intrust it to this {fellow}.

SYR. (_overhearing him._) Ha, Demea! I didn’t see you; how goes it?

DEM. How should it go? I can not enough wonder at your mode of living

SYR. Why, really silly enough, and, to speak without disguise,
{altogether} absurd. (_Calls at the door of MICIO’S house._) Dromo,
clean the rest of the fish; let the largest conger-eel play a little
in the water; when I come {back} it shall be boned;[49] not before.

DEM. Is profligacy like this----

SYR. As for myself, it isn’t to my taste, and I often exclaim {against
it}. (_Calls at the door._) Stephanio, take care that the salt fish is
well soaked.

DEM. Ye Gods, by our trust in you! is he doing this for any purpose of
his own, or does he think it creditable to ruin {his} son? Wretch that
I am! methinks I already see the day when {Æschinus} will be running
away for want, to serve somewhere or other as a soldier.[50]

SYR. O Demea! that is wisdom {indeed},-- not only to look at the
present moment, but also to look forward to what’s to come.

DEM. Well-- is this Music-girl still with you?

SYR. Why, yes, she’s in-doors.

DEM. How now-- is he going to keep her at home?

SYR. I believe so; such is his madness!

DEM. Is it possible?

SYR. An imprudent lenity in his father, and a vicious indulgence.

DEM. Really, I am ashamed and grieved at my brother.

SYR. Demea! between you there is a great-- I do not say it because you
are here present-- a too great difference. You are, every bit of you,
nothing but wisdom; he a {mere} dreamer. Would you indeed have
suffered that son of yours to act thus?

DEM. I, suffer him? Would I not have smelt it out six months before he
attempted it?

SYR. Need I be told by you of your foresight?

DEM. I pray he may only continue the same he is at present!

SYR. Just as each person wishes his son to be, so he turns out.

DEM. What news of him? Have you seen him to-day?

SYR. What, your son? (_Aside._) I’ll pack him off into the country.
(_To DEMEA._) I fancy he’s busy at the farm long before this.

DEM. Are you quite sure he is there?

SYR. What! --when I saw him part of the way {myself}----

DEM. Very good. I was afraid he might be loitering here.

SYR. And extremely angry too.

DEM. Why so?

SYR. He attacked his brother in the Forum with strong language about
this Music-girl.

DEM. Do you really say so?

SYR. Oh dear, he didn’t at all mince the matter; for just as the money
was being counted out, the gentleman came upon us by chance, {and}
began exclaiming, “Oh Æschinus, that you should perpetrate these
enormities! that you should be guilty of actions {so} disgraceful to
our family!”

DEM. Oh, I shall weep for joy.

SYR. “By this you are not squandering your money {only}, but your

DEM. May he be preserved to me! I trust he will be like his
forefathers. (_Weeping._)

SYR. (_aside._) Heyday!

DEM. Syrus, he is full of these maxims.

SYR. (_aside._) Strange, indeed! He had the means at home of learning

DEM. I do every thing I can; I spare no pains; I train him up to it:
in fine, I bid him look into the lives of men, as though into a
mirror, and from others to take an example for himself. Do this, {I

SYR. Quite right.

DEM. Avoid that----

SYR. Very shrewd.

DEM. This is praiseworthy----

SYR. That’s the thing.

DEM. That is considered blamable----

SYR. Extremely good.

DEM. And then, moreover----

SYR. Upon my honor, I have not the leisure to listen to you just at
present: I have got some fish just to my taste, {and} must take care
they are not spoiled; for that would be as much a crime in me, as for
you, Demea, not to observe those maxims which you have just been
mentioning; and so far as I can, I lay down precepts for my
fellow-servants on the very same plan; “this is {too} salt, that is
quite burned up, this is not washed enough, that is {very} well done;
remember {and do} so another time.” I carefully instruct them so far
as I can to the best of my capacity. In short, Demea, I bid them look
into their sauce-pans as though into a mirror,[51] and suggest to them
what they ought to do. I am sensible these things are trifling which
we do; but what is one to do? According as the man is, so must you
humor him. Do you wish any thing else?

DEM. That more wisdom may be granted you.

SYR. You will be going off into the country, {I suppose}?

DEM. Directly.

SYR. For what should you do here, where, if you do give any good
precepts, no one will regard them? (_Goes into MICIO’S house._)


  _DEMEA, alone._

DEM. (_to himself._) I certainly will be off, as he on whose account I
came hither has gone into the country. I have a care for him: that
alone is my own concern, since my brother will have it so; let him
look to the other himself. But who is it I see yonder at a distance?
Isn’t it Hegio of our tribe?[52] If I see right, i’faith, it is he.
Ah, a man I have been friendly with from a child! Good Gods! we
certainly have a great dearth of citizens of that stamp nowadays, with
the old-fashioned virtue and honesty. Not in a hurry will any
misfortune accrue to the public from him. How glad I am to find some
remnants of this race even still remaining; now I feel some pleasure
in living. I’ll wait here for him, to ask him how he is, and have some
conversation with him.


  _Enter HEGIO and GETA, conversing, at a distance._

HEG. Oh immortal Gods! a disgraceful action, Geta! What is it you tell

GETA. Such is the fact.

HEG. That so ignoble a deed should come from that family! Oh Æschinus,
assuredly you haven’t taken after your father in that!

DEM. (_apart._) Why surely, he has heard this about the Music-girl;
that gives him concern, {though} a stranger; this father {of his}
thinks nothing of it. Ah me! I wish he were somewhere close at hand to
overhear this.

HEG. Unless they do as they ought to do, they shall not come off so

GETA. All our hopes, Hegio, are centred in you; you we have for {our}
only {friend}; you are our protector, our father. The old man,
{Simulus}, when dying, recommended us to you; if you forsake us, we
are undone.

HEG. Beware how you mention {that}; I neither will do it, nor do I
think thaat; with due regard to the ties of relationship, I could.

DEM. (_apart._) I’ll accost him. (_Approaches HEGIO._) Hegio, I bid
you welcome right heartily.

HEG. (_starting._) Oh! I you are the very man I was looking for.
Greetings to you, Demea.

DEM. Why, what’s the matter?

HEG. Your eldest son Æschinus, whom you gave to your brother to adopt,
has been acting the part of neither an honest man nor a gentleman.

DEM. What has he been doing?

HEG. You knew my friend and year’s-mate, Simulus?

DEM. Why not?

HEG. He has debauched his daughter, a virgin.

DEM. Hah!

HEG. Stay, Demea. You have not yet heard the worst.

DEM. Is there any thing still worse?

HEG. Worse, by far: for this indeed might in some measure have been
borne with. The hour of night prompted him; passion, wine, young
blood; ’tis human nature. When he was sensible of what he had done, he
came voluntarily to the girl’s mother, weeping, praying, entreating,
pledging his honor, vowing that he would take her home.[53] {The
affair} was pardoned, hushed, up, his word taken. The girl from that
intercourse became pregnant: {this} is the tenth month. He, worthy
fellow, has provided himself, if it please the Gods, with a Music-girl
to live with; the other he has cast off.

DEM. Do you say this for certain?

HEG. The mother of the young woman is among us,[54] the young woman
too; the fact {speaks for} itself; this Geta, besides, according to
the common run of servants, not a bad one or of idle habits; he
supports them; alone, maintains the whole family; take him, bind
him,[55] examine him upon the matter.

GETA. Aye, faith, put me to the torture, Demea, if such is not the
fact: besides, he will not deny it. Confront me with him.

DEM. (_aside._) I am ashamed; and what to do, or how to answer him,
I don’t know.

PAM. (_crying out within the house of SOSTRATA._) Ah me! I am racked
with pains! Juno Lucina,[56] bring aid, save me, I beseech thee!

HEG. Hold; is she in labor, pray?

GETA. No doubt of it, Hegio.

HEG. Ah! she is now imploring your protection, Demea; let her obtain
from you spontaneously what the power {of the law} compels you to
give. I do entreat the Gods that what befits you may at once be done.
But if your sentiments are otherwise, Demea, I will defend both them
and him who is dead to the utmost of my power. He was my kinsman:[57]
we were brought up together from children, we were companions in the
wars and at home, together we experienced the hardships of poverty.
I will therefore exert myself, strive, use all methods, in fine lay
down my life, rather than forsake these women. What answer do you give

DEM. I’ll go find my brother, Hegio: the advice he gives me upon this
matter I’ll follow.[58]

HEG. But, Demea, take you care and reflect upon this: the more easy
you are in your circumstances, the more powerful, wealthy, affluent,
{and} noble you are, so much the more ought you with equanimity to
observe {the dictates of} justice, if you would have yourselves
esteemed as men of probity.

DEM. Go back {now};[59] every thing shall be done that is proper to be

HEG. It becomes you to act {thus}. Geta, show me in to Sostrata.
(_Follows GETA into SOSTRATA’S house._)

DEM. (_to himself._) Not without warning on my part have these things
happened: I only wish it may end here; but this immoderate indulgence
will undoubtedly lead to some great misfortune. I’ll go find my
brother, and vent these feelings upon him. (_Exit._


  _Enter HEGIO, from SOSTRATA’S house, and speaking to her within._

HEG. Be of good heart,[60] Sostrata, and take care and console her as
far as you can. I’ll go find Micio, if he is at the Forum, and
acquaint him with the whole circumstances in their order; if so it is
that he will do his duty {by you}, let him do so; but if his
sentiments are otherwise about this matter, let him give me his
answer, that I may know at once what I am to do. (_Exit._



  _Enter CTESIPHO and SYRUS from the house of MICIO._

CTES. My father gone into the country, say you?

SYR. (_with a careless air._) Some time since.

CTES. Do tell me, I beseech you.

SYR. He is at the farm at this very moment,[61] I warrant-- hard at
some work or other.

CTES. I really wish, provided it be done with no prejudice to his
health, I wish that he may so effectually tire himself, that, for the
next three days together, he may be unable to arise from his bed.

SYR. So be it, and any thing still better than that,[62] if possible.

CTES. Just so; for I do most confoundedly wish to pass this whole day
in merry-making as I have begun it; and for no reason do I detest that
farm so heartily as for its being so near {town}. If it were at a
greater distance, night would overtake him there before he could
return hither again. Now, when he doesn’t find me there, he’ll come
running back here, I’m quite sure; he’ll be asking me where I have
been, that I have not seen him all this day: what am I to say?

SYR. Does nothing suggest itself to your mind?

CTES. Nothing whatever.

SYR. So much the worse[63]-- have you no client, friend, or guest?

CTES. I have; what then?

SYR. You have been engaged with them.

CTES. When I have not been engaged? That can never do.

SYR. It may.

CTES. During the daytime; but if I pass the night here, what excuse
can I make, Syrus?

SYR. Dear me, how much I do wish it was the custom for one to be
engaged with friends at night as well! But you be easy; I know his
humor perfectly well. When he raves the most violently, I can make him
as gentle as a lamb.

CTES. In what way?

SYR. He loves to hear you praised: I make a god of you to him, {and}
recount your virtues.

CTES. What, mine?

SYR. Yours; immediately the tears fall from him as from a child, for
{very} joy. (_Starting._) Hah! take care----

CTES. Why, what’s the matter?

SYR. The wolf in the fable[64]----

CTES. What! my father?

SYR. His own self.

CTES. What shall we do, Syrus?

SYR. You only be off in-doors, I’ll see to that.

CTES. If he makes any inquiries, you {have seen} me nowhere; do you

SYR. Can you not be quiet? (_They retreat to the door of MICIO’S
house, and CTESIPHO stands in the doorway._)


  _Enter DEMEA, on the other side of the stage._

DEM. (_to himself._) I certainly am an unfortunate man. In the first
place, I can find my brother nowhere; and then, in the next place,
while looking for him, I met a day-laborer[65] from the farm; he says
that my son is not in the country, and what to do I know not----

CTES. (_apart._) Syrus!

SYR. (_apart._) What’s the matter?

CTES. (_apart._) Is he looking for me?

SYR. (_apart._) Yes.

CTES. (_apart._) Undone!

SYR. (_apart._) Nay, do be of good heart.

DEM. (_to himself._) Plague on it! what ill luck is this? I can not
really account for it, unless I suppose myself {only} born for the
purpose of enduring misery. I am the first to feel our misfortunes;
the first to know of them all; then the first to carry the news; I am
the only one, if any thing does go wrong, to take it to heart.

SYR. (_apart._) I’m amused at him; he says that he is the first to
know of {every thing, while} he is the only one ignorant of every

DEM. (_to himself._) I’ve now come back; and I’ll go see whether
perchance my brother has yet returned.

CTES. (_apart._) Syrus, pray do take care that he doesn’t suddenly
rush in upon us here.

SYR. (_apart._) Now will you hold your tongue? I’ll take care.

CTES. (_apart._) Never this day will I depend on your management for
that, upon my faith; for I’ll shut myself up with her in some
cupboard[66]-- that’s the safest. (_Goes into the house._)

SYR. (_apart._) Do so, still I’ll get rid of him.

DEM. (_seeing SYRUS._) But see! there’s that rascal, Syrus.

SYR. (_aloud, pretending not to see DEMEA._) Really, upon my faith, no
person can stay here, if this is to be the case! For my part, I should
like to know how many masters I have-- what a cursed condition this

DEM. What’s he whining about? What does he mean? How say you, good
sir, is my brother at home?

SYR. What the plague do you talk to me about, “good sir”? I’m quite

DEM. What’s the matter with you?

SYR. Do you ask the question? Ctesipho has been beating me, poor
wretch, and that Music-girl, almost to death.

DEM. Ha! what is it you tell me?

SYR. Aye, see how he has cut my lip. (_Pretends to point to it._)

DEM. For what reason?

SYR. He says that she was bought by my advice.

DEM. Did not you tell me, a short time since, that you had seen him on
his way into the country?

SYR. I did; but he afterward came back, raving like a madman; he
spared nobody-- ought he not to have been ashamed to beat an old man?
Him whom, only the other day, I used to carry about in my arms when
thus high? (_Showing._)

DEM. I commend him; O Ctesipho, you take after your father. Well, I do
pronounce you a man.

SYR. Commend him? Assuredly he will keep his hands to himself in
future, if he’s wise.

DEM. {’Twas done} with spirit.

SYR. Very much so, to be beating a poor woman, and me, a slave, who
didn’t dare strike him in return; heyday! very spirited indeed!

DEM. He could not {have done} better: he thought the same as I {did},
that you were the principal in this affair. But is my brother within?

SYR. He is not.

DEM. I’m thinking where to look for him.

SYR. I know where he is-- but I shall not tell you at present.

DEM. Ha! what’s that you say?

SYR. {I do say} so.

DEM. Then I’ll break your head for you this instant.

SYR. I can’t tell the person’s name {he’s gone to}, but I know the
place where he lives.

DEM. Tell me the place then.

SYR. Do you know the portico down this way, just by the shambles?
(_Pointing in the direction._)

DEM. How should I but know it?

SYR. Go straight along, right up that street; when you come there,
there is a descent right opposite that goes downward, go straight down
that; afterward, on this side (_extending one hand_), there is a
chapel: close by it is a narrow lane, where there’s also a great wild

DEM. I know it.

SYR. Go through that--

DEM. But that lane is not a thoroughfare.

SYR. I’ faith, that’s true; dear, dear, would you take me to be in my
senses?[67] I made a mistake. Return to the portico; indeed that will
be a much nearer way, and there is less going round about: you know
the house of Cratinus, the rich man?

DEM. I know it.

SYR. When you have passed that, keep straight along that street on the
left hand;[68] when you come to the Temple of Diana, turn to the
right; before you come to the {city} gate,[69] just by that pond,
there is a baker’s shop, and opposite to it a joiner’s; there he is.

DEM. What is he doing there?

SYR. He has given some couches to be made, with oaken legs, for use in
the open air.[70]

DEM. For you to carouse upon! Very fine! But {why} do I delay going to
him? (_Exit._)


  _SYRUS alone._

SYR. Go, by all means. I’ll work you to day, {you} skeleton,[71] as
you deserve. Æschinus loiters intolerably; the breakfast’s spoiling;
and as for Ctesipho, he’s head and ears in love.[72] I shall now think
of myself, for I’ll be off at once, and pick out the very nicest bit,
and, leisurely sipping my cups,[73] I’ll lengthen out the day. (_Goes
into the house._)


  _Enter MICIO and HEGIO._

MIC. I can see no reason here, Hegio, that I should be so greatly
commended. I do my duty; the wrong that has originated with us I
redress. Unless, perhaps, you thought me one of that class of men who
think that an injury is purposely done them if you expostulate about
any thing they have done; and yet are {themselves} the first to
accuse. Because I have not acted thus, do you return me thanks?

HEG. Oh, far from it; I never led myself to believe you to be
otherwise than you are; but I beg, Micio, that you will go with me to
the mother of the young woman, and {repeat to her} the same; what you
have told me, do you yourself tell the woman, that this suspicion of
{Æschinus’s fidelity} was incurred on his brother’s account, {and}
that this Music-girl was for him.

MIC. If you think I ought, or if there is a necessity for doing so,
let us go.

HEG. You act with kindness; for you’ll then both have relieved her
mind who is {now} languishing in sorrow and affliction, and have
discharged your duty. But if you think otherwise, I will tell her
myself what you have been saying to me.

MIC. Nay, I’ll go as well.

HEG. You act with kindness; all who are in distressed circumstances
are suspicious,[74] to I know not what degree; they take every thing
too readily as an affront; they fancy themselves trifled with on
account of their helpless condition; therefore it will be more
satisfactory for you to justify him to them yourself. (_They go into
the house of SOSTRATA._)


  _Enter ÆSCHINUS._

I am quite distracted in mind! for this misfortune so unexpectedly to
befall me, that I neither know what to do with myself, or how to act!
My limbs are enfeebled through fear, my faculties bewildered with
apprehension; no counsel is able to find a place within my breast.
Alas! how to extricate myself from this perplexity I know not; so
strong a suspicion has taken possession of them about me; not without
some reason too: Sostrata believes that I have purchased this
Music-girl for {myself}: the old woman informed me of that. For by
accident, when she was sent for the midwife, I saw her, and at once
went up to her. “How is Pamphila?” I inquired; “is her delivery at
hand? Is it for that she is sending for the midwife?” “Away, away,
Æschinus,” cries she; “you have deceived us long enough; already have
your promises disappointed us sufficiently.” “Ha!” said I; “pray what
is the meaning of this?” “Farewell,” {she cries}; “keep to her who is
your choice.” I instantly guessed what it was they suspected, but
still I checked myself, that I might not be telling that gossip any
thing about my brother, whereby it might be divulged. Now what am I to
do? Shall I say she is for my brother, a thing that ought by no means
to be repeated any where? However, let that pass. It is possible it
might go no further. I am afraid they would not believe it, so many
probabilities concur {against it}: ’twas I myself carried her off;
’twas I, my own self, that paid the money {for her}; ’twas my own
house she was carried to. This I confess has been entirely my own
fault. Ought I not to have disclosed this affair, just as it happened,
to my father? I might have obtained his consent to marry her. I have
been too negligent hitherto; henceforth, then, arouse yourself,
Æschinus. This then is the first thing; to go to them and clear
myself. I’ll approach the door. (_Advances to the door of SOSTRATA’S
house._) Confusion! I always tremble most dreadfully when I go to
knock at that {door}. (_Knocking and calling to them within._) Ho
there, ho there! it is Æschinus; open the door immediately, some one.
(_The door opens._) Some person, I know not who, is coming out; I’ll
step aside here. (_He stands apart._)


  _Enter MICIO from the house of SOSTRATA._

MIC. (_speaking at the door to SOSTRATA._) Do as I told {you},
Sostrata; I’ll go find Æschinus, that he may know how these matters
have been settled. (_Looking round._) But who was it knocking at the

ÆSCH. (_apart._) Heavens, it is my father! --I am undone!

MIC. Æschinus!

ÆSCH. (_aside._) What can be his business here?

MIC. Was it you knocking at this door? (_Aside._) He is silent. Why
shouldn’t I rally him a little? It would be as well, as he was never
willing to trust me with this {secret}. (_To ÆSCHINUS._) Don’t you
answer me?

ÆSCH. (_confusedly._) It wasn’t I {knocked} at that {door}, that I
know of.

MIC. Just so; for I wondered what business you could have here.
(_Apart._) He blushes; all’s well.

ÆSCH. Pray tell me, father, what business have you there?

MIC. Why, none of my own; {but} a certain friend {of mine} just now
brought me hither from the Forum to give him some assistance.

ÆSCH. Why?

MIC. I’ll tell you. There are some women living here; in impoverished
circumstances, as I suppose you don’t know them; and, {in fact}, I’m
quite sure, for it is not long since they removed to this place.

ÆSCH. Well, what next?

MIC. There is a girl living with her mother.

ÆSCH. Go on.

MIC. This girl has lost her father; this friend of mine is her next of
kin; the law obliges him to marry her.[75]

ÆSCH. (_aside._) Undone!

MIC. What’s the matter?

ÆSCH. Nothing. Very well: proceed.

MIC. He has come to take her with him; for he lives at Miletus.

ÆSCH. What! To take the girl away with him?

MIC. Such is the fact.

ÆSCH. All the way to Miletus, pray?[76]

MIC. Yes.

ÆSCH. (_aside._) I’m overwhelmed with grief. (_To MICIO._) {But} what
of them? What do they say?

MIC. What do you suppose they should? Why, nothing at all. The mother
has trumped up a tale, that there is a child by some other man, I know
not who, and she does not state the name; {she says} that he was the
first, {and} that she ought not to be given to the other.

ÆSCH. Well now, does not this seem just to you after all?

MIC. No.

ÆSCH. Why not, pray? Is {the other} to be carrying her away from here?

MIC. Why should he not take her?

ÆSCH. You have acted harshly and unfeelingly, and even, if, father,
I may speak my sentiments more plainly, unhandsomely.

MIC. Why so?

ÆSCH. Do you ask me? Pray, what do you think must be the state of mind
of the man who was first connected with her, who, to his misfortune,
may perhaps still love her to distraction, when he sees her torn away
from before his face, {and} borne off from his sight {forever}? An
unworthy action, father!

MIC. On what grounds is it so? Who betrothed her?[77] Who gave her
away? When {and} to whom was she married? Who was the author of all
this? Why did he connect himself with a woman who belonged to another?

ÆSCH. Was it to be expected that a young woman of her age should sit
at home, waiting till a kinsman {of hers} should come from a distance?
This, my father, you ought to have represented, and have insisted on

MIC. Ridiculous! Was I to have pleaded against him whom I was to
support? But what’s all this, Æschinus, to us? What have we to do with
them? Let us begone:---- What’s the matter? Why these tears?

ÆSCH. (_weeping._) Father, I beseech you, listen to me.

MIC. Æschinus, I have heard and know it all; for I love you, and
therefore every thing you do is the more a care to me.

ÆSCH. So do I wish you to find me deserving of your love, as long as
you live, my {dear} father, as I am sincerely sorry for the offense I
have committed, and am ashamed to see you.

MIC. Upon my word I believe it, for I know your ingenuous disposition:
but I am afraid that you are too inconsiderate. In what city, pray, do
you suppose you live? You have debauched a virgin, whom it was not
lawful for you to touch. In the first place then that was a great
offense; great, but still natural. Others, and even men of worth, have
frequently done the same. But after it happened, pray, did you show
any circumspection? Or did you use any foresight as to what was to be
done, {or} how it was to be done? If you were ashamed to tell me of
it, by what means was I to come to know it? While you were at a loss
upon these points, ten months have been lost. So far indeed as lay in
your power, you have periled both yourself {and} this poor {girl}, and
the child. What did you imagine-- that the Gods would set these
matters to rights for you while you were asleep, and that she would be
brought home to your chamber without any exertions of your own?
I would not have you to be equally negligent in other affairs. Be of
good heart, you shall have her for your wife.

ÆSCH. Hah!

MIC. Be of good heart, I tell you.

ÆSCH. Father, are you now jesting with me, pray?

MIC. I, {jesting} with you! For what reason?

ÆSCH. I don’t know; but so anxiously do I wish this to be true, that I
am the more afraid it may not be.

MIC. Go home, and pray to the Gods that you may have your wife; be

ÆSCH. What! have my wife now?

MIC. Now.

ÆSCH. Now?

MIC. Now, as soon as possible.

ÆSCH. May all the Gods detest me, father, if I do not love you better
than even my very eyes!

MIC. What! {better} than her?

ÆSCH. Quite as well.

MIC. Very kind of you!

ÆSCH. Well, where is this Milesian?

MIC. Departed, vanished, gone on board ship; but why do you delay?

ÆSCH. Father, do you rather go and pray to the Gods; for I know, for
certain, that they will rather be propitious to you,[78] as being a
much better man than I {am}.

MIC. I’ll go in-doors, that what is requisite may be prepared. You do
as I said, if you are wise. (_Goes into his house._)


  _ÆSCHINUS alone._

ÆSCH. What can be the meaning of this? Is this being a father, or this
being a son? If he had been a brother or {familiar} companion, how
could he have been more complaisant! Is he not worthy to be beloved?
Is he not to be imprinted in my very bosom? Well then, the more does
he impose an obligation on me by his kindness, to take due precaution
not inconsiderately to do any thing that he may not wish. But why do I
delay going in-doors this instant, that I may not myself delay my own
nuptials? (_Goes into the house of MICIO._)


  _Enter DEMEA._

I am quite tired with walking: May the great Jupiter confound you,
Syrus, together with your directions! I have crawled the whole city
over; to the gate, to the pond-- where not? There was no joiner’s shop
there; not a soul could say he had seen my brother; but now I’m
determined to sit and wait at his house till he returns.


  _Enter MICIO from his house._

MIC. (_speaking to the people within._) I’ll go and tell them there’s
no delay on our part.

DEM. But see here’s the very man: O Micio, I have been seeking you
this long time.

MIC. Why, what’s the matter?

DEM. I’m bringing you some new and great enormities of that hopeful

MIC. Just look at that!

DEM. Fresh ones, of blackest dye.

MIC. There now-- at it again.

DEM. Ah, {Micio}! you little know what sort of person he is.

MIC. I do.

DEM. O simpleton! you are dreaming that I’m talking about the
Music-girl; this crime is against a virgin {and} a citizen.

MIC. I know it.

DEM. So then, you know it, and put up with it!

MIC. Why not put up with it?

DEM. Tell me, pray, don’t you exclaim about it? Don’t you go

MIC. Not I: certainly I had rather[79]----

DEM. There has been a child born.

MIC. May the Gods be propitious {to it}.

DEM. The girl has no fortune.

MIC. {So} I have heard.

DEM. And he-- must he marry her without one?

MIC. Of course.

DEM. What is to be done then?

MIC. Why, what the case itself points out: the young woman must be
brought hither.

DEM. O Jupiter! must that be the way {then}?

MIC. What can I do else?

DEM. What can you do? If in reality this causes you no concern, to
pretend it were surely the duty of a man.

MIC. But I have already betrothed the young woman {to him}; the matter
is settled: the marriage takes place {to-day}. I have removed all
apprehensions. This is rather the duty of a man.

DEM. But does the affair please you, Micio?

MIC. If I were able to alter it, no; now, as I can not, I bear it with
patience. The life of man is just like playing with dice:[80] if that
which you most want to throw does not turn up, what turns up by chance
you must correct by art.

DEM. {O rare} corrector! of course it is by your art that twenty minæ
have been thrown away for a Music-girl; who, as soon as possible, must
be got rid of at any price; and if not for money, why then for

MIC. Not at all, and indeed I have no wish to sell her.

DEM. What will you do with her then?

MIC. She shall be at my house.

DEM. For heaven’s sake, a courtesan and a matron in the same house!

MIC. Why not?

DEM. Do you imagine you are in your senses?

MIC. Really I do think {so}.

DEM. So may the Gods prosper me, I {now} see your folly; I believe you
are going to do so that you may have somebody to practice music with.

MIC. Why not?

DEM. And the new-made bride to be learning too?

MIC. Of course.

DEM. Having hold of the rope,[81] you will be dancing with them.

MIC. Like enough; and you too along with us, if there’s need.

DEM. Ah me! are you not ashamed of this?

MIC. Demea, do, for once, lay aside this anger of yours, and show
yourself as you ought at your son’s wedding, cheerful and
good-humored. I’ll just step over to them, {and} return immediately.
(_Goes into SOSTRATA’S house._)


  _DEMEA alone._

DEM. O Jupiter! here’s a life! here are manners! here’s madness!
A wife to be coming without a fortune! A music-wench in the house!
A house full of wastefulness! A young man ruined by extravagance! An
old man in his dotage! --Should Salvation herself[82] desire it, she
certainly could not save this family. (_Exit._



  _Enter SYRUS, drunk, and DEMEA, on the opposite side of the stage._

SYR. Upon my faith, my dear little Syrus, you have taken delicate care
of yourself, and have done your duty[83] with exquisite taste; be off
with you. But since I’ve had my fill of every thing in-doors, I have
felt disposed to take a walk.

DEM. (_apart._) Just look at that-- there’s an instance of their
{good} training!

SYR. (_to himself._) But see, here comes our old man. (_Addressing
him._) What’s the matter? Why out of spirits?

DEM. Oh you rascal!

SYR. Hold now; are you spouting your sage maxims here?

DEM. If you were my {servant}----

SYR. Why, you would be a rich man, Demea, and improve your estate.

DEM. I would take care that you should be an example to all the rest.

SYR. For what reason? What have I done?

DEM. Do you ask me? in the midst of this confusion, and during the
greatest mischief, which is hardly yet set right, you have been
getting drunk, you villain, as though things had been going on well.

SYR. (_aside._) Really, I wish I hadn’t come out.


  _Enter DROMO in haste, from the house of MICIO._

DRO. Halloo, Syrus! Ctesipho desires you’ll come back.

SYR. Get you gone. (_Pushes him back into the house._)

DEM. What is it he says about Ctesipho?

SYR. Nothing.

DEM. How now, {you} hang-dog, is Ctesipho in the house?

SYR. He is not.

DEM. {Then} why does he mention him?

SYR. It’s another person; a little diminutive Parasite. Don’t you know

DEM. I will know him before long. (_Going to the door._)

SYR. (_stopping him._) What are you about? Whither are you going?

DEM. (_struggling._) Let me alone.

SYR. (_holding him._) Don’t, I tell you.

DEM. Won’t you keep your hands off, whip-scoundrel? Or would you like
me to knock your brains out this instant? (_Rushes into the house._)

SYR. He’s gone! no very pleasant boon-companion, upon my faith,
particularly to Ctesipho. What am I to do now? Why, even get into some
corner till this tempest is lulled, and sleep off this drop of wine.
That’s my plan. (_Goes into the house, staggering._)


  _Enter MICIO, from the house of SOSTRATA._

MIC. (_to SOSTRATA, within._) Every thing’s ready with us, as I told
you, Sostrata, when you like. --Who, I wonder, is making my door fly
open with such fury?

  _Enter DEMEA in haste, from the house of MICIO._

DEM. Alas! what shall I do? How behave? In what terms exclaim, or how
make my complaint? O heavens! O earth! O seas of Neptune!

MIC. (_apart._) Here’s for you! he has discovered all about the
affair; {and} of course is now raving about it; a quarrel is the
consequence; I must assist him,[84] {however}. DEM. See, here comes
the common corrupter of my children.

MIC. Pray moderate your passion, and recover yourself.

DEM. I have moderated it; I am myself; I forbear all reproaches; let
us come to the point: was this agreed upon between us,-- proposed by
yourself, in fact,-- that you were not to concern yourself about my
{son}, nor I about yours? Answer me.

MIC. It is the fact,-- I don’t deny it.

DEM. Why is he now carousing at your house? Why are you harboring my
son? Why do you purchase a mistress for him, Micio? Is it at all fair,
that I should have any less justice from you, than you from me? Since
I do not concern myself about your {son}, don’t you concern yourself
about mine.

MIC. You don’t reason fairly.

DEM. No?

MIC. For surely it is a maxim of old, that among themselves all things
are common to friends.

DEM. Smartly {said}; you’ve got that speech up for the occasion.

MIC. Listen to a few words, unless it is disagreeable, Demea. In the
first place, if the extravagance your sons are guilty of distresses
you, pray do reason with yourself. You formerly brought up the two
suitably to your circumstances, thinking that your own property would
have to suffice for them both; and, of course, you then thought that I
should marry. Adhere to that same old rule {of yours},-- save, scrape
together, {and} be thrifty {for them}; take care to leave them as much
as possible, and {take} that credit to yourself: my fortune, which has
come to them beyond their expectation, allow them to enjoy; of {your}
captial there will be no diminution; what comes from this quarter, set
it {all} down as so much gain. If you think proper impartially to
consider these matters in your mind, Demea, you will save me and
yourself, and them, {considerable} uneasiness.

DEM. I don’t speak about the expense; their morals--

MIC. Hold; I understand you; that point I was coming to.[85] There are
in men, Demea, many signs from which a conjecture is easily formed;
{so that} when two persons do the same thing, you may often say, this
one may be allowed to do it with impunity, the other may not; not that
the thing {itself} is different, but that he is who does it. I see
{signs} in them, so as to feel confident that they will turn out as we
wish. I see that they have good sense and understanding, that they
have modesty upon occasion, {and} are affectionate to each other; you
may infer that their bent and disposition is of a pliant nature; at
any time you like you may reclaim them. But still, you may be
apprehensive that they will be somewhat too apt to neglect their
interests. O my {dear} Demea, in all other things we grow wiser with
age; this sole vice does old age bring upon men: we are all more
solicitous about our own interests than we need be; and in this
respect age will make them sharp enough.

DEM. Only {take care}, Micio, that these fine reasonings of yours, and
this easy disposition of yours, do not ruin us {in the end}.

MIC. Say no more; there’s no danger of that. Now think no further of
these matters. Put yourself to-day into my hands; smooth your brow.

DEM. Why, as the occasion requires it, I must do so; but to-morrow {I
shall be off} with my son into the country at daybreak.

MIC. Aye, to-night, for my share; only keep yourself in good-humor for
the day.

DEM. I’ll carry off that Music-girl along with me as well.

MIC. You will gain your point; by that means you will keep your son
fast there; only take care to secure her.

DEM. I’ll see to that; and what with cooking and grinding, I’ll take
care she shall be well covered with ashes, smoke, and meal; besides
{all} this, at the very mid-day[86] I’ll set her gathering stubble;
I’ll make her as burned and as black as a coal.

MIC. You quite delight me; now you seem to me to be wise; and for my
part I would then compel my son to go to bed with her, even though he
should be unwilling.

DEM. Do you banter me? Happy man, to have such a temper! I feel--

MIC. Ah! at it again!

DEM. I’ll have done then at once.

MIC. Go in-doors then, and let’s devote this day to the object[87] to
which it belongs. (_Goes into the house._)


  _DEMEA alone._

DEM. Never was there any person of ever such well-trained habits of
life, but that experience, age, {and} custom are always bringing {him}
something new, {or} suggesting something; so much so, that what you
believe you know you don’t know, and what you have fancied of first
importance to you, on making trial you reject; and this is my case at
present: for the rigid life I have hitherto led, my race nearly run,
I {now} renounce. Why so? --I have found, by experience, that there is
nothing better for a man than an easy temper and complacency. That
this is the truth, it is easy for any one to understand on comparing
me with my brother. He has always spent his life in ease {and} gayety;
mild, gentle, offensive to no one, having a smile for all, he has
lived for himself, {and} has spent his money for himself; all men
speak well of him, {all} love him. I, {again}, a rustic, a rigid,
cross, self-denying, morose and thrifty person, married a wife; what
misery I entailed in consequence! Sons were born-- a fresh care. And
just look, while I have been studying to do as much as possible for
them, I have worn out my life and years in saving; now, in the decline
of my days, the return I get from them for my pains {is} their
dislike. He, on the other hand, without any trouble on his part,
enjoys a father’s comforts; they love him; me they shun; him they
trust with all their secrets, are fond of him, are {always} with him.
I am forsaken; they wish him to live; but my death, forsooth, they are
longing for. Thus, after bringing them up with all possible pains, at
a trifling cost he has made them his own; thus I bear all the misery,
he enjoys the pleasure. Well, then, henceforward let us try, on the
other hand, whether I can’t speak kindly and act complaisantly, as he
challenges me to it: I also want myself to be loved and highly valued
by my friends. If that is to be effected by giving and indulging,
I will not be behind him. If our means fail, that least concerns me,
as I am the eldest.[88]


  _Enter SYRUS._

SYR. Hark you, Demea, your brother begs you will not go out of the

DEM. Who {is it}? --O Syrus, my {friend},[89] save you! how are you?
How goes it {with you}?

SYR. Very well.

DEM. Very good. (_Aside._) I have now for the first time used these
three expressions contrary to my nature,-- “O Syrus, my {friend}, how
are you? --how goes it with you?” (_To SYRUS._) You show yourself far
from an unworthy servant, and I shall gladly do you a service.

SYR. I thank you.

DEM. Yes, Syrus, it is the truth; and you shall be convinced of it by
experience before long.


  _Enter GETA, from the house of SOSTRATA._

GETA (_to SOSTRATA, within._) Mistress, I am going to see after them,
that they may send for the damsel as soon as possible; but see, here’s
Demea. (_Accosting him._) Save you!

DEM. O, what’s your name?

GETA. Geta.

DEM. Geta, I have this day come to the conclusion that you are a man
of very great worth, for I look upon him as an undoubtedly good
servant who has a care for his master; as I have found to be your
case, Geta; and for that reason, if any opportunity should offer,
I would gladly do you a service. (_Aside._) I am practicing the
affable, and it succeeds very well.

GETA. You are kind, sir, to think so.

DEM. (_aside._) Getting on by degrees-- I’ll first make the lower
classes my own.


  _Enter ÆSCHINUS, from the house of MICIO._

ÆSCH. (_to himself._) They really are killing me while too intent on
performing the nuptials with all ceremony; the {whole} day is being
wasted in their preparations.

DEM. Æschinus! how goes it?

ÆSCH. Ha, my father! are you here?

DEM. Your father, indeed, both by affection and by nature; as I love
you more than my very eyes; but why don’t you send for your wife?

ÆSCH. {So} I wish {to do}; but I am waiting for the music-girl[90] and
people to sing the nuptial song.

DEM. Come now, are you willing to listen to an old fellow like me?

ÆSCH. What {is it}?

DEM. Let those things alone, the nuptial song, the crowds, the
torches,[91] {and} the music-girls, and order the stone wall in the
garden[92] here to be pulled down with all dispatch, {and} bring her
over that way; make but one house {of the two}; bring the mother and
all the domestics over to our house.

ÆSCH. With all my heart, kindest father.

DEM. (_aside._) Well done! now I am called “kind.” My brother’s house
will become a thoroughfare; he will be bringing home a multitude,
incurring expense in many ways: what matters it to me? I, as the kind
{Demea}, shall get into favor. Now then, bid that Babylonian[93] pay
down his twenty minæ. (_To SYRUS._) Syrus, do you delay to go and do

SYR. What {am I to do}?

DEM. Pull down {the wall}: and you, {Geta}, go and bring them across.

GETA. May the Gods bless you, Demea, as I see you so sincere a
well-wisher to our family. (_GETA and SYRUS go into MICIO’S house._)

DEM. I think they deserve it. What say you, {Æschinus, as to this

ÆSCH. I quite agree to it.

DEM. It is much more proper than that she, being sick {and} lying-in,
should be brought hither through the street.

ÆSCH. Why, my {dear} father, I never did see any thing better

DEM. It’s my way; but see, here’s Micio coming out.


  _Enter MICIO, from his house._

MIC. (_speaking to GETA, within._) Does my brother order it? Where is
he? (_To DEMEA._) Is this your order, Demea?

DEM. Certainly, I do order it, and in this matter, and in every thing
else, {wish} especially to make this family one with ourselves, to
oblige, serve, {and} unite them.

ÆSCH. Father, pray let it be so.

MIC. I do not oppose it.

DEM. On the contrary, i’ faith, it is what we ought to do: in the
first place, she is the mother of his wife (_pointing to Æschinus_).

MIC. She is. What then?

DEM. An honest and respectable woman.

MIC. So they say.

DEM. Advanced in years.

MIC. I am aware of it.

DEM. Through her years, she is long past child-bearing; there is no
one to take care of her; she is a lone woman.

MIC. (_aside._) What can be his meaning?

DEM. It is right you should marry her; and that you, {Æschinus},
should use your endeavors to effect it.

MIC. I, marry her, indeed?

DEM. You.


DEM. You, I say.

MIC. You are trifling!

DEM. {Æschinus}, if you are a man, he’ll do it.

ÆSCH. My {dear} father----

MIC. What, ass! do you attend to him?

DEM. ’Tis all in vain; it can not be otherwise.

MIC. You are mad!

ÆSCH. Do let me prevail on you, my father.

MIC. Are you out of your senses? Take yourself off.[94]

DEM. Come, do oblige your son.

MIC. Are you quite in your right mind? Am I, in my five-and-sixtieth
year, to be marrying at last? A decrepit old woman too? Do you advise
me {to do} this?

ÆSCH. Do; I have promised it.[95]

MIC. Promised, indeed; be generous at your own cost, young man.

DEM. Come, what if he should ask a still greater favor?

MIC. As if this was not the greatest!

DEM. Do comply.

ÆSCH. Don’t make any difficulty.

DEM. Do promise.

MIC. Will you not have done?

ÆSCH. Not until I have prevailed upon you.

MIC. Really, this is downright force.[96]

DEM. Act with heartiness, Micio.

MIC. Although this seems to me[97] to be wrong, foolish, absurd, and
repugnant to my mode of life, yet, if you so strongly wish it, be it

ÆSCH. You act obligingly.

DEM. With reason I love you; but----

MIC. What?

DEM. I will tell you, when my wish has been complied with.

MIC. What now? What remains {to be done}?

DEM. Hegio here is their nearest relation; {he is} a connection of
ours {and} poor; we ought to do some good for him.

MIC. Do what?

DEM. There is a little farm here in the suburbs, which you let out;
let us give it him to live upon.

MIC. But is it a little one?

DEM. If it were a large one, {still} it ought to be done; he has been
as it were a father to her; he is a worthy man, {and} connected with
us; it would be properly bestowed. In fine, I now adopt that proverb
which you, Micio, a short time ago repeated with sense and wisdom-- it
is the common vice of all, in old age, to be too intent upon our own
interests. This stain we ought to avoid: it is a true maxim, and ought
to be observed in deed.

MIC. What am I to say to this? Well then, as he desires it (_pointing
to ÆSCHINUS_), it shall be given {him}.

ÆSCH. My father!

DEM. Now, Micio, you are {indeed} my brother, both in spirit and in

MIC. I am glad of it.

DEM. (_aside._) I foil him at his own weapon.[98]


  _Enter SYRUS, from the house._

SYR. It has been done as you ordered, Demea.

DEM. You are a worthy fellow. Upon my faith,-- in my opinion, at
least,-- I think Syrus ought at once to be made free.

MIC. He free! For what reason?

DEM. For many.

SYR. O my {dear} Demea! upon my word, you are a worthy man! I have
strictly taken care of both these {sons} of yours, from childhood;
I have taught, advised, {and} carefully instructed them in every thing
I could.

DEM. The thing is evident; and then besides {all} this, to cater {for
them}, secretly bring home a wench, prepare a morning
entertainment;[99] these are the accomplishments of no ordinary

SYR. O, what a delightful man!

DEM. Last of all, he assisted to-day in purchasing this Music-wench--
he had the management of it; it is right he should be rewarded; other
servants will be encouraged {thereby}: besides, he (_pointing to
ÆSCHINUS_) desires it to be so.

MIC. (_to ÆSCHINUS._) Do you desire this to be done?

ÆSCH. I do wish it.

MIC. Why then, if you desire it, just come hither, Syrus, to me
(_performing the ceremony of manumission_); be a free man.[100]

SYR. You act generously; I return my thanks to you all;-- and to you,
Demea, in particular.

DEM. I congratulate you.

ÆSCH. And I.

SYR. I believe you. I wish that this joy were made complete-- that I
could see my wife, Phrygia,[101] free as well.

DEM. Really, a most excellent woman.

SYR. And the first to suckle your grandchild, his son, today
(_pointing to ÆSCHINUS_).

DEM. Why really, in seriousness, if she was the first to do so, there
is no doubt she ought to be made free.

MIC. {What}, for doing that?

DEM. For doing that; in fine, receive the amount from me[102] at which
she is valued.

SYR. May all the Gods always grant you, Demea, all you desire.

MIC. Syrus, you have thrived pretty well to-day.

DEM. If, in addition, Micio, you will do your duty, and lend him a
little ready money in hand for present use, he will soon repay you.

MIC. Less than this (_snapping his fingers_).

ÆSCH. He is a deserving fellow.

SYR. Upon my word, I will repay it; only lend it me.

ÆSCH. Do, father.

MIC. I’ll consider of it afterward.

DEM. He’ll do it, {Syrus}.

SYR. O most worthy man!

ÆSCH. O most kind-hearted father!

MIC. How is this? What has so suddenly changed your disposition,
{Demea}? What caprice {is this}? What means this sudden

DEM. I will tell you:-- That I may convince you of this, Micio, that
the fact that they consider you an easy and kind-hearted man, does not
proceed from your real life, nor, indeed, from {a regard for} virtue
and justice; but from your humoring, indulging, and pampering them.
Now therefore, Æschinus, if my mode of life has been displeasing to
you, because I do not quite humor you in every thing, just {or}
unjust, I have done: squander, buy, do what you please. But if you
would rather have one to reprove and correct those faults, the results
of which, by reason of your youth, you can not see, which you pursue
too ardently, {and} are thoughtless upon, and in due season to direct
you; behold me ready to do it for you.

ÆSCH. Father, we leave it to you; you best know what ought to be done.
But what is to be done about my brother?

DEM. I consent. Let him have {his mistress}:[104] with her let him
make an end {of his follies}.

MIC. That’s right. (_To the AUDIENCE._) Grant us your applause.


  [Footnote 1: From δημὸς, “the people.”]

  [Footnote 2: From Μικιὼν, a Greek proper name.]

  [Footnote 3: From ἡγεῖσθαι, “to lead,” or “take charge of.”]

  [Footnote 4: From αισχὸς, “disgrace.”]

  [Footnote 5: From κτησὶς, “a patrimony,” and φῶς, “light.”]

  [Footnote 6: From σαννὸς, “foolish.”]

  [Footnote 7: One of the nation of the Getæ.]

  [Footnote 8: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]

  [Footnote 9: From Syria, his native country.]

  [Footnote 10: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

  [Footnote 11: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]

  [Footnote 12: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Heautontimorumenos.]

  [Footnote 13: From κανθαρὸς [“a cup.”]

  [Footnote 14: _Of Æmilius Paulus_)--This Play (from the Greek
  Ἀδελφοὶ, “The Brothers”) was performed at the Funeral Games of
  Lucius Æmilius Paulus, who was surnamed Macedonicus, from having
  gained a victory over Perseus, King of Macedon. He was so poor at
  the time of his decease, that they were obliged to sell his estate
  in order to pay his widow her dower. The Q. Fabius Maximus and P.
  Cornelius Africanus here mentioned were not, as some have thought,
  the Curale Ædiles, but two sons of Æmilius Paulus, who had taken
  the surnames of the families into which they had been adopted.]

  [Footnote 15: _Sarranian flutes_)--The “Sarranian” or “Tyrian”
  pipes, or flutes, are supposed to have been of a quick and
  mirthful tone; Madame Dacier has consequently with much justice
  suggested that the representation being on the occasion of a
  funeral, the title has not come down to us in a complete form, and
  that it was performed with the Lydian, or grave, solemn pipe,
  alternately with the Tyrian. This opinion is also strengthened by
  the fact that Donatus expressly says that it was performed to the
  music of Lydian flutes.]

  [Footnote 16: _Being Consuls_)--L. Anicius Gallus and M. Cornelius
  Cethegus were Consuls in the year from the Building of the City
  592, and B.C. 161.]

  [Footnote 17: _Synapothnescontes_)--Ver. 6. Signifying “persons
  dying together.” The “Commorientes” of Plautus is lost. It has
  been doubted by some, despite these words of Terence, if Plautus
  ever did write such a Play.]

  [Footnote 18: _Of Diphilus_)--Ver. 6. Diphilus was a Greek Poet,
  contemporary with Menander.]

  [Footnote 19: _In war, in peace, in private business_)--Ver. 20.
  According to Donatus, by the words “in bello,” Terence is supposed
  to refer to his friend and patron Scipio; by “in otio,” to Furius
  Publius; and in the words “in negotio” to Lælius, who was famed
  for his wisdom.]

  [Footnote 20: _The old men_)--Ver. 23. This is similar to the
  words in the Prologue to the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 16: “But
  expect nothing about the plot of this Play; the old men who will
  come hither will disclose the matter to you.”]

  [Footnote 21: _To fetch him_)--Ver. 24. “Advorsum ierant.” On the
  duties of the “adversitores,” see the Notes to Bohn’s Translation
  of Plautus.]

  [Footnote 22: _Either have taken cold_)--Ver. 36. Westerhovius
  observes that this passage seems to be taken from one in the Miles
  Gloriosus of Plautus, l. 721, _et seq._: “Troth, if I had had
  them, enough anxiety should I have had from my children; I should
  have been everlastingly tormented in mind: but if perchance one
  had had a fever, I think I should have died. Or if one in liquor
  had tumbled any where from his horse, I should have been afraid
  that he had broken his legs or neck on that occasion.” It may be
  remarked that there is a great resemblance between the characters
  of Micio here and Periplecomenus in the Miles Gloriosus.]

  [Footnote 23: _To see you well_)--Ver. 81. Cooke remarks, that
  though there are several fine passages in this speech, and good
  observations on human life, yet it is too long a soliloquy.]

  [Footnote 24: _I was looking for_)--Ver. 81. Donatus observes that
  the Poet has in this place improved upon Menander, in representing
  Demea as more ready to wrangle with his brother than to return his

  [Footnote 25: _Such a son as Æschinus_)--Ver. 82. The passage
  pretty clearly means by “ubi nobis Æschinus sit,” “when I’ve got
  such a son as Æschinus.” Madame Dacier, however, would translate
  it: “Ask me-- you, in whose house Æschinus is?” thus accusing him
  of harboring Æschinus; a very forced construction, however.]

  [Footnote 26: _Broken open a door_)--Ver. 88. The works of Ovid
  and Plautus show that it was no uncommon thing for riotous young
  men to break open doors; Ovid even suggests to the lover the
  expediency of getting into the house through the windows.]

  [Footnote 27: _Does he feast_)--Ver. 117. Colman has the following
  observation here: “The mild character of Micio is contrasted by
  Cicero to that of a furious, savage, severe father, as drawn by
  the famous Comic Poet, Caecilius. Both writers are quoted in the
  Oration for Caelias, in the composition of which it is plain that
  the orator kept his eye pretty closely on our Poet. The passages
  from Caecilius contain all that vehemence and severity, which, as
  Horace tells us, was accounted the common character of the style
  of that author.”]

  [Footnote 28: _Smell of perfumes_)--Ver. 117. For an account of
  the “unguenta,” or perfumes in use among the ancients, see the
  Notes to Bohn’s translation of Plautus.]

  [Footnote 29: _Will be shut out of doors_)--Ver. 119. No doubt by
  his mistress when she has drained him of his money, and not by
  Micio himself, as Colman says he was once led to imagine.]

  [Footnote 30: _These things are_)--Ver. 141. Donatus observes
  here, that Terence seems inclined to favor the part of mild
  fathers. He represents Micio as appalled at his adopted son’s
  irregularities, lest if he should appear wholly unmoved, he should
  seem to be corrupting him, rather than to be treating him with
  only a proper degree of indulgence.]

  [Footnote 31: _Wished to take a wife_)--Ver. 151. Donatus remarks
  here, that the art of Terence in preparing his incidents is
  wonderful. He contrives that even ignorant persons shall open the
  plot, as in the present instance, where we understand that
  Aeschinus has mentioned to Micio his intention of taking a wife,
  though he has not entered into particulars. This naturally leads
  us to the ensuing parts of the Play, without forestalling any of
  the circumstances.]

  [Footnote 32: _I am a Procurer_)--Ver. 161. He says this aloud,
  and with emphasis, relying upon the laws which were enacted at
  Athens in favor of the “lenones,” whose occupation brought great
  profits to the state, from their extensive trading in slaves. It
  was forbidden to maltreat them, under pain of being disinherited.]

  [Footnote 33: _I am a Procurer_)--Ver. 188. Westerhovius supposes
  this part to be a translation from the works of Diphilus.]

  [Footnote 34: _By action of freedom_)--Ver. 194. “Asserere
  liberati causa,” was to assert the freedom of a person, with a
  determination to maintain it at law. The “assertor” laid hands
  upon the person, declaring that he or she was free; and till the
  cause was tried, the person whose freedom was claimed, remained in
  the hands of the “assertor.”]

  [Footnote 35: _Till I return_)--Ver. 196. Colman has a curious
  remark here: “I do not remember, in the whole circle of modern
  comedy, a more natural picture of the elegant ease and
  indifference of a fine gentleman, than that exhibited in this
  Scene in the character of Æschinus.”]

  [Footnote 36: _I have sold her_)--Ver. 204. He means, that if he
  only names a price, Æschinus will suborn witnesses to say that he
  has agreed to sell her, in which case Æschinus will carry her off
  with impunity, and the laws will not allow him to recover her; as
  it will then be an ordinary debt, and he will be put off with all
  the common excuses used by debtors.]

  [Footnote 37: _On more unequal terms_)--Ver. 212. “Certationem
  comparatam.” This was a term taken from the combats of gladiators,
  where it was usual to choose as combatants such as seemed most
  nearly a match for each other.]

  [Footnote 38: _If you had parted with ever so little_)--Ver. 217.
  This passage is probably alluded to by Cicero, in his work, De
  Officiis B. ii. c. 18: “For it is not only liberal sometimes to
  give up a little of one’s rights, but it is also profitable.”]

  [Footnote 39: _In the very joint_)--Ver. 229. “Ut in ipso articulo
  oppressit.” Colman translates this, “Nick’d me to a hair.”]

  [Footnote 40: _To take to Cyprus_)--Ver. 230. He alludes to a
  famous slave-market held in the Isle of Cyprus, whither merchants
  carried slaves for sale, after buying them up in all parts of

  [Footnote 41: _Have you by this reckoned_)--Ver. 236. “Jamne
  enumerasti id quod ad te rediturum putes?” Colman renders this,
  “Well, have you calculated what’s your due?” referring to the
  value of the Music-girl that has been taken away from him; and
  thinks that the following conversation between Sannio and Syrus
  supports that construction. Madame Dacier puts another sense on
  the words, and understands them as alluding to Sannio’s
  calculation of his expected profits at Cyprus.]

  [Footnote 42: _Scrape together ten minæ_)--Ver. 242. Donatus
  remarks, that Syrus knows very well that Æschinus is ready to pay
  the whole, but offers Sannio half, that he may be glad to take the
  bare principal, and think himself well off into the bargain.]

  [Footnote 43: _He’s looking for me_)--Ver. 265. Donatus remarks
  upon the readiness with which Sannio takes the appellation of
  “sacrilegus,” as adapted to no other person than himself.]

  [Footnote 44: _Flying the country_)--Ver. 275. Donatus tells us,
  that in Menander the young man was on the point of killing
  himself. Terence has here softened it into leaving the country.
  Colman remarks: “We know that the circumstance of carrying off the
  Music-girl was borrowed from Diphilus; yet it is plain from
  Donatus that there was also an intrigue by Ctesipho in the Play of
  Menander; which gives another proof of the manner in which Terence
  used the Greek Comedies.”]

  [Footnote 45: _He is in haste for Cyprus_)--Ver. 278. Donatus
  remarks that this is a piece of malice on the part of Syrus, for
  the purpose of teasing Sannio.]

  [Footnote 46: _Order the couches_)--Ver. 285. Those used for the
  purpose of reclining on at the entertainment.]

  [Footnote 47: _Leave me alone_)--Ver. 321. Quoting from Madame
  Dacier, Colman has this remark here: “Geta’s reply is founded on a
  frolicsome but ill-natured custom which prevailed in Greece-- to
  stop the slaves in the streets, and designedly keep them in chat,
  so that they might be lashed when they came home for staying out
  so long.”]

  [Footnote 48: _On his father’s knees_)--Ver. 333. It was a
  prevalent custom with the Greeks to place the newly-born child
  upon the knee of its grandfather.]

  [Footnote 49: _It shall be boned_)--Ver. 378. The operation of
  boning conger-eels is often mentioned in Plautus, from whom we
  learn that they were best when eaten in that state, and cold.]

  [Footnote 50: _Serve somewhere or other as a soldier_)--Ver. 385.
  See a similar passage in the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 722, whence
  it appears that it was the practice for young men of ruined
  fortunes to go and offer their services as mercenaries to some of
  the neighboring potentates. Many of the ten thousand who fought
  for the younger Cyrus at the battle of Cunaxa, and were led back
  under the command of Xenophon, were, doubtless, of this class.]

  [Footnote 51: _As though into a mirror_)--Ver. 428. He parodies
  the words of Demea in l. 415, where he speaks of looking into the
  lives of men as into a mirror.]

  [Footnote 52: _Of our tribe_)--Ver. 439. Solon divided the
  Athenians into ten tribes, which he named after ten of the ancient
  heroes: Erectheis, Ægeis, Pandionis, Leontis, Acamantis, Œneis,
  Cecrops, Hippothoontis, Æantis, and Antiochis. These tribes were
  each divided into ten Demi.]

  [Footnote 53: _Would take her home_)--Ver. 473. As his wife.]

  [Footnote 54: _Is among us_)--Ver. 479. “In medio,” “is alive,” or
  “in the midst of us.”]

  [Footnote 55: _Take him, bind him_)--Ver. 482. In allusion to the
  method of examining slaves, by binding and torturing them.]

  [Footnote 56: _Juno Lucina_)--Ver. 487. So in the Andria, l. 473,
  where Glycerium is overtaken with the pains of labor, she calls
  upon Juno Lucina.]

  [Footnote 57: _He was my kinsman_)--Ver. 494. In the Play of
  Menander, Hegio was the brother of Sostrata.]

  [Footnote 58: _Upon this matter I’ll follow_)--Ver. 500. “Is, quod
  mihi de hae re dederat consilium, id sequar.” Coleman has the
  following Note on this passage: “Madame Dacier rejects this line,
  because it is also to be found in the Phormio. But it is no
  uncommon thing with our author to use the same expression or verse
  for different places, especially on familiar occasions. There is
  no impropriety in it here, and the foregoing hemistich is rather
  lame without it. The propriety of consulting Micio, or Demea’s
  present ill-humor with him, are of no consequence. The old man is
  surprised at Hegio’s story, does not know what to do or say, and
  means to evade giving a positive answer, by saying that he would
  consult his brother.”]

  [Footnote 59: _Go back now_)--Ver. 506. “Redite.” Demea most
  probably uses this word, because Hegio has come back to him to
  repeat the last words for the sake of greater emphasis.]

  [Footnote 60: _Be of good heart_)--Ver. 512. Colman has the
  following Note here: “Donatus tells us, that in some old copies
  this whole Scene was wanting. Guyetus therefore entirely rejects
  it. I have not ventured to take that liberty; but must confess
  that it appears to me, if not supposititious, at least cold and
  superfluous, and the substance of it had better been supposed to
  have passed between Hegio and Sostrata within.”]

  [Footnote 61: _At this very moment_)--Ver. 519. It is very
  doubtful whether the words “cum maxime” mean to signify exactly
  “at this moment,” or are intended to signify the intensity with
  which Demea is laboring.]

  [Footnote 62: _Any thing still better than that_)--Ver. 522.
  Lemaire suggests that by these words Syrus intends to imply that
  he should not care if Demea were never to arise from his bed, but
  were to die there. Ctesipho, only taking him heartily to second
  his own wishes for the old man’s absence, answers affirmatively
  “ita,” “by all means,” “exactly so.”]

  [Footnote 63: _So much the worse_)--Ver. 529. Schmieder observes
  that “tanto nequior” might have two meanings,-- “so much the worse
  {for us},” or, as the spectators might understand it, “so much the
  more worthless you.”]

  [Footnote 64: _The wolf in the fable_)--Ver. 538. This was a
  proverbial expression, tantamount to our saying, “Talk of the
  devil, he’s sure to appear.” Servius, in his Commentary on the
  Ninth Eclogue of Virgil, says that the saying arose from the
  common belief that the person whom a wolf sets his eyes upon is
  deprived of his voice, and thence came to be applied to a person
  who, coming upon others in the act of talking about him,
  necessarily put a stop to their conversation. Cooke says, in
  reference to this passage, “This certainly alludes to a Fable of
  Æsop’s, of the Wolf, the Fox, and the Ape: which is translated by
  Phædrus, and is the tenth of his First Book.” It is much more
  certain that Cooke is mistaken here, and that the fable of the
  arbitration of the Ape between the Wolf and the Fox has nothing to
  do with this passage. If it alludes to any fable (which from the
  expression itself is not at all unlikely), it is more likely to be
  that where the Nurse threatens that the wolf shall take the
  naughty Child, on which he makes his appearance, but is
  disappointed in his expectations, or else that of the Shepherd-boy
  and the Wolf. See the Stichus of Plautus, l. 57, where the same
  expression occurs.]

  [Footnote 65: _Met a day-laborer_)--Ver. 542. Donatus remarks that
  the Poet artfully contrives to detain Demea in town, his presence
  being necessary in the latter part of the Play.]

  [Footnote 66: _With her in some cupboard_)--Ver. 553. Donatus
  observes that the young man was silly in this, for if discovered
  to be there he would be sure to be caught. His object, however,
  for going there would be that he might not be discovered.]

  [Footnote 67: _Take me to be in my senses_)--Ver. 580. “Censen
  hominem me esse?” literally, “Do you take me to be a human being?”
  meaning, “Do you take me to be a person in my common senses?”]

  [Footnote 68: _Street on the left hand_)--Ver. 583. Theobald, in
  his edition of Shakspeare, observes that the direction given by
  Lancelot in the Merchant of Venice seems to be copied from that
  given here by Syrus: “Turn up on your right hand at the next
  turning, but at the next turning of all on your left; marry, at
  the very next turning of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the
  Jew’s house.”]

  [Footnote 69: _Come to the city gate_)--Ver. 584. From this we
  discover that Demea is being sent to the very extremity of the
  town, as Donatus informs us that ponds of water were always close
  to the gates of towns, for the purpose of watering the beasts of
  burden, and of having a supply at hand in case the enemy should
  set fire to the city gates.]

  [Footnote 70: _The open air_)--Ver. 586. Donatus remarks that it
  was usual for the Greeks to sit and drink in the sun; and that
  Syrus being suddenly asked this question shows his presence of
  mind by giving this circumstantial answer, that he may the better
  impose upon Demea. The couches used on such occasions may be
  presumed to have required stout legs, and to be made of hard wood,
  such as oak, to prevent them from splitting. Two instances of
  couches being used for carousing in the open air will be found in
  the last Scenes of the Asinaria and Stichus of Plautus.]

  [Footnote 71: _You skeleton_)--Ver. 588. “Silicernium.” This was
  said to be the name of a funeral entertainment or dish of meats
  offered up to the “umbræ” or “manes,” in silence. The word is also
  said to have been applied to an old man from his stooping
  postures, “silices cernit,” “he looks at the stones.”]

  [Footnote 72: _Head and ears in love_)--Ver. 590. “Totus,”
  literally, “quite” or “altogether.”]

  [Footnote 73: _Sipping my cups_)--Ver. 592. As to the “cyathi” and
  cups of the ancients, see the last Scene of the Stichus of
  Plautus, which is a perfect specimen of a carousal among the lower
  classes in ancient times. See also the last Scene of the Asinaria.
  The slaves generally appear to have taken part in the
  entertainments with their young masters.]

  [Footnote 74: _Are suspicious_)--Ver. 606. These lines are
  supposed to be founded on some verses of Menander which are still

  [Footnote 75: _Obliges him to marry her_)--Ver. 655. It appears to
  have been a law given by Solon to the Athenians that the next male
  relative of suitable age should marry a female orphan himself, or
  find her a suitable portion. Madame Dacier suggests that the
  custom was derived from the Phœnicians, who had received it from
  the Jews, and quotes the Book of Numbers, xxxvi. 8. This law forms
  the basis of the plot of the Phormio.]

  [Footnote 76: _To Miletus, pray?_)--Ver. 658. A colony of Athens,
  on the coast of Asia Minor.]

  [Footnote 77: _Who betrothed her?_)--Ver. 673. Donatus observes
  that these questions, which enumerate all the proofs requisite for
  a marriage, are an indirect and very delicate reproof of Æschinus
  for the irregular and clandestine nature of his proceedings.]

  [Footnote 78: _Propitious to you_)--Ver. 707. Donatus remarks that
  there is great delicacy in this compliment of Æschinus to Micio,
  which, though made in his presence, does not bear the semblance of
  flattery. Madame Dacier thinks that Terence here alludes to a line
  of Hesiod, which says that it is the duty of the aged to pray.
  Colman suggests that the passage is borrowed from some lines of
  Menander still in existence.]

  [Footnote 79: _Certainly I had rather_)--Ver. 730. He pauses after
  “quidem,” but he means to say that if he had his choice, he would
  rather it had not been so.]

  [Footnote 80: _Playing with dice_)--Ver. 742. The “tesseræ” of the
  ancients were cubes, or what we call “dice;” while the “tali” were
  in imitation of the knuckle-bones of animals, and were marked on
  four sides only. For some account of the mode of playing with the
  “tali,” see the last Scene of the Asinaria, and the Curculio of
  Plautus, l. 257-9. Madame Dacier suggests that Menander may
  possibly have borrowed this passage from the Republic of Plato,
  B. X., where he says, “We should take counsel from accidents, and,
  as in a game at dice, act according to what has fallen, in the
  manner which reason tells us to be the best.”]

  [Footnote 81: _Hold of the rope_)--Ver. 755. “Restim ductans
  saltabis.” Donatus and Madame Dacier think that this is only a
  figurative expression for a dance in which all joined hands;
  according to some, however, a dance is alluded to where the person
  who led off drew a rope or cord after him, which the rest of the
  company took hold of as they danced; which was invented in
  resemblance of the manner in which the wooden horse was dragged by
  ropes into the city of Troy.]

  [Footnote 82: _Salvation herself_)--Ver. 764. See an observation
  relative to the translation of the word “Salus,” in the Notes to
  Plautus, vol. i. pages 193, 450.]

  [Footnote 83: _Have done your duty_)--Ver. 767. His duty of
  providing the viands and drink for the entertainment. So Ergasilus
  says in the Captivi of Plautus, l. 912, “Now I will go off to my
  government (præfecturam), to give laws to the bacon.”]

  [Footnote 84: _I must assist him_)--Ver. 795. Colman remarks on
  this passage: “The character of Micio appears extremely amiable
  through the first four Acts of this Comedy, and his behavior is in
  many respects worthy of imitation; but his conduct in conniving at
  the irregularities of Ctesipho, and even assisting him to support
  them, is certainly reprehensible. Perhaps the Poet threw this
  shade over his virtues on purpose to show that mildness and
  good-humor might be carried to excess.”]

  [Footnote 85: _That point I was coming to_)--Ver. 824. Colman
  observes here: “Madame Dacier makes an observation on this speech,
  something like that of Donatus on one of Micio’s above; and says
  that Micio, being hard put to it by the real circumstances of the
  case, thinks to confound Demea by a nonsensical gallimatia. I can
  not be of the ingenious lady’s opinion on this matter, for I think
  a more sensible speech could not be made, nor a better plea
  offered in favor of the young men, than that of Micio in the
  present instance.”]

  [Footnote 86: _At the very mid-day_)--Ver. 851. Exposed to the
  heat of a mid-day sun.]

  [Footnote 87: _To the object_)--Ver. 857. The marriage and its

  [Footnote 88: _Am the eldest_)--Ver. 884. And therefore likely to
  be the first to die, and to avoid seeing such a time come.]

  [Footnote 89: _O Syrus, my friend_)--Ver. 886. The emptiness of
  his poor attempts to be familiar are very evident in this line.]

  [Footnote 90: _The music-girl_)--Ver. 908. “Tibicinæ,” or
  music-girls, attended at marriage ceremonials. See the Aulularia
  of Plautus, where Megadorus hires the music-girls on his intended
  marriage with the daughter of Euclio.]

  [Footnote 91: _The crowds, the torches_)--Ver. 910. See the Casina
  of Plautus, Act IV., Scenes 3 and 4, for some account of the
  marriage ceremonial. The torches, music-girls, processions, and
  hymeneal song, generally accompanied a wedding, but from the
  present passage we may conclude that they were not considered
  absolutely necessary.]

  [Footnote 92: _Stone wall in the garden_)--Ver. 911. The
  “maceria,” or garden-wall of loose stones, is also mentioned in
  the Truculentus of Plautus, l. 301.]

  [Footnote 93: _Bid that Babylonian_)--Ver. 918. This passage has
  much puzzled the Commentators; but it seems most probable that it
  is said aside, and that in consequence of his profuseness he calls
  his brother a Babylonian, (just as we call a wealthy man a nabob,)
  and says, “Well, let him, with all my heart, be paying twenty minæ
  (between £70 and £80) for music-girl.”]

  [Footnote 94: _Take yourself off_)--Ver. 940. Æschinus, probably,
  in his earnestness, has seized hold of him with his hand, which
  Micio now pushes away.]

  [Footnote 95: _I have promised it_)--Ver. 943. This is not the
  truth; the notion has only been started since he last saw them.]

  [Footnote 96: _Really, this is downright force_)--Ver. 946. “Vis
  est hæc quidem.” The same expression occurs in the Captivi of
  Plautus, l. 755. The expression seemed to be a common one with the
  Romans. According to Suetonius, Julius Cæsar used it when attacked
  by his murderers in the senate-house. On Tullius Cimber seizing
  hold of his garments, he exclaimed, “Ita quidem vis est!”-- “Why,
  really, this is violence!”]

  [Footnote 97: _This seems to me_)--Ver. 947. Donatus informs us
  that in Menander’s Play, the old man did not make any resistance
  whatever to the match thus patched up for him. Colman has the
  following observation on this fact: “It is surprising that none of
  the critics on this passage have taken notice of this observation
  of Donatus, especially as our loss of Menander makes it rather
  curious. It is plain that Terence in the plan of his last Act
  followed Menander; but though he has adopted the absurdity of
  marrying Micio to the old lady, yet we learn from Donatus that his
  judgment rather revolted at this circumstance, and he improved on
  his original by making Micio express a repugnance to such a match,
  which it seems he did not in the Play of Menander.”]

  [Footnote 98: _At his own weapon_)--Ver. 961. He probably means,
  by aping the kind feeling which is a part of Micio’s character.]

  [Footnote 99: _A morning entertainment_)--Ver. 969. A banquet in
  the early part or middle of the day was considered by the Greeks a

  [Footnote 100: _Be a free man_)--Ver. 974. He touches Syrus on the
  ear, and makes him free. The same occurs in the Epidicus of
  Plautus, Act V., Sc. 2, l. 65.]

  [Footnote 101: _My wife, Phrygia_)--Ver. 977. The so-called
  marriage, or rather cohabitation, of the Roman slaves will be
  found treated upon in the Notes to Plautus. Syrus calls Phrygia
  his wife on anticipation that she will become a free woman.]

  [Footnote 102: _Receive the amount from me_)--Ver. 981. The only
  sign of generosity he has yet shown.]

  [Footnote 103: _This sudden liberality_)--Ver. 989. “Quid
  prolubium? Quae istæc subita est largitas?” Madame Dacier tells us
  that this passage was borrowed from Coecilius, the Comic Poet.]

  [Footnote 104: _Let him have his mistress_)--Ver. 1001. It must be
  remembered that he has the notions of a Greek parent, and sees no
  such criminality in this sanction as a parent would be sensible of
  at the present day.]

       *       *       *       *       *
           *       *       *       *



  LACHES,[1] an aged Athenian, father of Pamphilus.
  PHIDIPPUS,[2] an aged Athenian, father of Philumena.
  PAMPHILUS,[3] son of Laches.
  SOSIA,[4] servant of Pamphilus.
  PARMENO,[5] servant of Sostrata.

  SOSTRATA,[6] wife of Laches.
  MYRRHINA,[7] wife of Phidippus.
  BACCRIS,[8] a Courtesan.
  PHILOTIS,[9] a Courtesan.
  SYRA,[10] a Procuress.

_Scene._--Athens; before the houses of LACHES, PHIDIPPUS, and BACCHIS.


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


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



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


Hecyra[14] is the name of this Play; when it was represented for the
first time, an unusual disaster and calamity[15] interrupted it, so
that it could not be witnessed {throughout} or estimated; so much had
the populace, carried away with admiration, devoted their attention to
some rope-dancing. It is now offered as though entirely a new Play;
and he who wrote it did not wish to bring it forward {then} a second
time, on purpose that he might be able again to sell it.[16] Other
{Plays} of his[17] you have seen represented; I beg you now to give
your attention to this.


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



  _Enter PHILOTIS[26] and SYRA._

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

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

PHIL. What! Hold no one exempt?

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

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

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


  _Enter PARMENO from the house of LACHES._

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

PHIL. O, good-morrow, Parmeno.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PAR. To take, indeed!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PAR. (_to himself._) She tells the truth there; and that is my
greatest failing. (_To PHILOTIS._) If you give me your word that
you’ll keep it a secret, I’ll tell you.

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

PAR. Listen.

PHIL. I’m all attention.

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

PHIL. (_vehemently exclaiming._) May the Gods and Goddesses confound
you, Laches, for vexing him so!

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

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

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

PHIL. After this, what followed?

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

PHIL. You tell me of a conscientious and virtuous disposition in

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

PHIL. What {did he do} in the mean while? Used he to visit Bacchis?

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

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

PAR. And this circumstance in especial contributed to estrange him
from her; after he had fairly examined himself, and her, and the one
that was at home, he formed a judgment, by comparison, upon the
principles of them both. She, just as might be expected from a person
of respectable and free birth, chaste {and} virtuous, patient under
the slights and all the insults of her husband, and concealing his
affronts. Upon this, his mind, partly overcome by compassion for his
wife, partly constrained by the insolence of the other, was gradually
estranged from Bacchis, and transferred its affections to the other,
after having found a congenial disposition. In the mean time, there
dies at Imbros[28] an old man, a relative of theirs. His property
there devolved on them by law. Thither his father drove the love-sick
Pamphilus, much against his will. He left his wife here with his
mother, for the old man has retired into the country; he seldom comes
into the city.

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

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

PHIL. What then?

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

PHIL. And I too, for I made an appointment with a certain stranger[30]
to meet him.

PAR. May the Gods prosper what you undertake!

PHIL. Farewell!

PAR. And a kind farewell to you, my dear Philotis. (_Exeunt


SCENE I.[31]

  _Enter LACHES and SOSTRATA, from the house of the former._

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

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

LACH. Eh! you don’t know?

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

LACH. (_aside._) May the Gods avert {such} a misfortune!

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

LACH. You, undeservedly? Can any thing possibly be said that you
deserve in return for this conduct of yours? You, who are disgracing
both me and yourself and the family, {and} are laying up sorrow for
your son. Then besides, you are making our connections become, from
friends, enemies to us, who have thought him deserving for them to
intrust their children[32] to him. You alone have put yourself
forward, by your folly, to be causing this disturbance.

SOS. What, I?

LACH. You, woman, I say, who take me to be a stone, not a man. Do you
think because it’s my habit to be so much in the country, that I don’t
know in what way each person is passing his life here? I know much
better what is going on here than there, where I am daily; for this
reason, because, just as you act at home, I am spoken of abroad. Some
time since, indeed, I heard that Philumena had taken a dislike to you;
nor did I the least wonder at it; indeed, if she hadn’t done so, it
would have been more surprising. But I did not suppose that she would
have gone so far as to hate even the whole of the family; if I had
known {that}, she should have remained here in preference, {and} you
should have gone away. But consider how undeservedly these vexations
arise on your account, Sostrata; I went to live in the country, in
compliance with your request, and to look after my affairs, in order
that my circumstances might be able to support your lavishness and
comforts, not sparing my own exertions, beyond what’s reasonable and
my time of life allows. That you should take no care, in return for
all this, that there should be nothing to vex me!

SOS. Upon my word, through no means or fault of mine has this taken

LACH. Nay, {through you} in especial; you were the only person here;
on you alone, Sostrata, falls all the blame. You ought to have taken
care of matters here, as I had released you from other anxieties. Is
it not a disgrace for an old woman to pick a quarrel with a girl? You
will say it was her fault.

SOS. Indeed I do not say so, my {dear} Laches.

LACH. I am glad of that, so may the Gods prosper me, for my son’s
sake. I am quite sure {of this}, that no fault of yours can possibly
put you in a worse light.

SOS. How do you know, my husband, whether she may not have pretended
to dislike me, on purpose that she might be more with her mother?

LACH. What say you {to this}? Is it not proof sufficient, when
yesterday no one was willing to admit you into the house, when you
went to see her?

SOS. Why, they told me that she was very ill just then; for that
reason I was not admitted to her.

LACH. I fancy that your humors are more her malady than any thing
else; and with good reason in fact, for there is not one of you but
wants her son to take a wife; and the match which has taken your fancy
must be the one; when, at your solicitation, they have married,
{then}, at your solicitation, they are to put them away again.


  _Enter PHIDIPPUS from his house._

PHID. (_speaking to PHILUMENA within._) Although I am aware,
Philumena, that I have the right to compel you to do what I order,
still, being swayed by the feelings of a father, I will prevail {upon
myself} to yield to you, and not oppose your inclination.

LACH. And look, most opportunely I see Phidippus; I’ll presently know
from him how it is. (_Accosting him._) Phidippus, although I am aware
that I am particularly indulgent to all my family, still it is not to
that degree to let my good nature corrupt their minds. And if you
would do the same, it would be more for your own interest and ours. At
present I see that you are under the control of those {women}.

PHID. Just look at that, now!

LACH. I waited on you yesterday about your daughter; you sent me away
just as wise as I came. It does not become you, if you wish this
alliance to continue, to conceal your resentment. If there is any
fault on our side, disclose it; either by clearing ourselves, or
excusing it, we shall remedy these matters for you, yourself the
judge. But if this is the cause of detaining her at your house,
because she is ill, {then} I think that you do me an injustice,
Phidippus, if you are afraid lest she should {not} be attended with
sufficient care at my house. But, so may the Gods prosper me, I do not
yield in this to you, although you are her father, that you can wish
her well more than {I do}, and that on my son’s account, who I know
values her not less than his own self. Nor, in fact, is it unknown to
you, how much, {as} I believe, it will vex him, if he comes to
know[33] of this; for this reason, I wish to have her home before he

PHID. Laches, I am sensible of both your carefulness and your
good-will, and I am persuaded that all you say is just as you say: and
I would have you believe me in this; I am anxious for her to return to
you, if I possibly can by any means effect it.

LACH. What is it prevents you from effecting it? Come, now, does she
make any complaint against her husband?

PHID. By no means; for when I urged it still more strongly, and
attempted to constrain her by force to return, she solemnly protested
that she couldn’t possibly remain with you, while Pamphilus was
absent. Probably each has his own failing; I am naturally of an
indulgent disposition; I can not thwart my own family.

LACH. (_turning to his wife, who stands apart._) Ha! Sostrata![34]

SOS. (_sighing deeply._) Alas! wretched me!

LACH. (_to PHIDIPPUS._) Is this your final determination?

PHID. For the present, at least, as it seems; but have you any thing
else to say? for I have some business that obliges me to go at once to
the Forum.

LACH. I’ll go with you. (_Exeunt._


  _SOSTRATA alone._

SOS. Upon my faith, we assuredly are all of us hated by our husbands
with equal injustice, on account of a few, who cause us all to appear
deserving of harsh treatment. For, so may the Gods prosper me, as to
what my husband accuses me of, I am quite guiltless. But it is not so
easy to clear myself, so strongly have people come to the conclusion
that all step-mothers are harsh: i’faith, not I, indeed, for I never
regarded her otherwise than if she had been my own daughter; nor can I
conceive how this has befallen me. But really, for many reasons,
I long for my son’s return home with impatience. (_Goes into her




PAM. No individual, I do believe, ever met with more crosses in love
than I. Alas! unhappy me! that I have {thus} been sparing of life! Was
it for this I was so very impatient to return home? O, how much more
preferable had it been for me to pass my life any where in the world
than to return here and be sensible that I am thus wretched! For all
of us know who have met with trouble from any cause, that all the time
that passes before we come to the knowledge of it, is so much gain.

PAR. Still, as it is, you’ll the sooner know how to extricate yourself
from these misfortunes. If you had not returned, this breach might
have become much wider; but now, Pamphilus, I am sure that both will
be awed by your presence. You will learn the facts, remove their
enmity, restore them to good feeling once again. {These} are but
trifles which you have persuaded yourself are {so} grievous.

PAM. Why comfort me? Is there a person in all the world so wretched as
{I}? Before I took her to wife, I had my heart engaged by other
affections. Now, though on this subject I should be silent, it is easy
for any one to know how much I have suffered; yet I never dared refuse
her whom my father forced upon me. With difficulty did I withdraw
myself from another, and disengage my affections so firmly rooted
there! and hardly had I fixed them in another quarter, when, lo! a new
misfortune has arisen, which may tear me from her too. Then besides,
I suppose that in this matter I shall find either my mother or my wife
in fault; and when I find such to be the fact, what remains but to
become still more wretched? For duty, Parmeno, bids me bear with the
feelings of a mother; then, to my wife I am bound by obligations; with
so much temper did she formerly bear my usage, and on no occasion
disclose the many wrongs {inflicted on her} by me. But, Parmeno,
something of consequence, I know not what it is, must have happened
for {this} misunderstanding to have arisen between them, that has
lasted so long.

PAR. Or else something frivolous, i’faith, if you would only give
words their proper value; those which are sometimes the greatest
enmities, do not argue the greatest injuries; for it often happens
that in certain circumstances, in which another would not even be out
of temper, for the very same reason a passionate man becomes your
greatest enemy. What enmities do children entertain among themselves
for trifling injuries! For what reason? Why, because they have a weak
understanding to direct them. Just so are these women, almost like
children with their fickle feelings; perhaps a single word has
occasioned this enmity between them, master.

PAM. Go, Parmeno, into the house, and carry word[35] that I have

(_A noise is heard in the house of PHIDIPPUS._)

PAR. (_starting._) Ha! What means this?

PAM. Be silent. I perceive a bustling about, and a running to and fro.

PAR. (_going to the door._) Come then, I’ll approach nearer to the
door. (_He listens._) Ha! did you hear?

PAM. Don’t be prating. (_He listens._) O Jupiter, I heard a shriek!

PAR. You yourself are talking, while you forbid me.

MYR. (_within the house._) Prithee, my child, do be silent.

PAM. {That} seems to be the voice of Philumena’s mother. I’m undone!

PAR. Why so?

PAM. Utterly ruined!

PAR. For what reason?

PAM. Parmeno, you are concealing from me some great misfortune to me

PAR. They said that your wife, Philumena, was in alarm about[36]
something, I know not what; whether that may be it, perchance, I don’t

PAM. I am undone! Why didn’t you tell me of this?

PAR. Because I couldn’t {tell} every thing at once.

PAM. What is the malady?

PAR. I don’t know.

PAM. What! has no one brought a physician {to see her}?

PAR. I don’t know.

PAM. Why delay going in-doors, that I may know as soon as possible for
certain what it is? In what condition, Philumena, am I now to find
you? But if you are in any peril, beyond a doubt I will perish with
you. (_Goes into the house of PHIDIPPUS._)


  _PARMENO alone._

PAR. (_to himself._) There is no need for me to follow him into the
house at present, for I see that we are all disagreeable to them.
Yesterday, no one would give Sostrata admittance. If, perchance, the
malady should become worse, which really I could far from wish, for my
master’s sake especially, they would at once say that Sostrata’s
servant had been in there; they would invent a story that I had
brought some mischief against their lives and persons, in consequence
of which the malady had been increased. My mistress would be blamed,
and I should incur heavy punishment.[37]


  _Enter SOSTRATA._

SOS. (_to herself._) In dreadful alarm, I have for some time heard,
I know not what confusion going on here; I’m sadly afraid Philumena’s
illness is getting worse. Æsculapius, I do entreat thee, and thee,
Health,[38] that it may not be so. Now I’ll go visit her. (_Approaches
the door._)

PAR. (_coming forward._) Hark you, Sostrata.

SOS. (_turning round._) Well.

PAR. You will again be shut out there.

SOS. What, Parmeno, is it you? I’m undone! wretch that I am, what
shall I do? Am I not to go see the wife of Pamphilus, when she is ill
here next door?

PAR. Not go see her! Don’t even send any person for the purpose of
seeing {her}; for I’m of opinion that he who loves a person to whom he
is an object of dislike, commits a double mistake: he himself takes a
useless trouble, and causes annoyance to the other. Besides, your son
went in to see how she is, as soon as he arrived.

SOS. What is it you say? Has Pamphilus arrived?

PAR. He has.

SOS. I give thanks unto the Gods! Well, through that news my spirits
are revived, and anxiety has departed from my heart.

PAR. For this reason, then, I am especially unwilling you should go in
there; for if Philumena’s malady at all abates, she will, I am sure,
when they are by themselves, at once tell him all the circumstances;
both what misunderstandings have arisen between you, {and} how the
difference first began. But see, he’s coming out-- how sad {he looks}!


  _Re-enter PAMPHILUS, from the house of PHIDIPPUS._

SOS. (_running up to him._) O my son! (_Embraces him._)

PAM. My mother, blessings on you.

SOS. I rejoice that you are returned safe. Is Philumena in a fair way?

PAM. She is a little better. (_Weeping._)

SOS. Would that the Gods may grant it so! Why, then, do you weep, or
why so dejected?

PAM. All’s well, mother.

SOS. What meant that confusion? Tell me; was she suddenly taken ill?

PAM. Such was the fact.

SOS. What is her malady?

PAM. A fever.

SOS. An intermitting one?[39]

PAM. So they say. Go in the house, please, mother; I’ll follow you

SOS. Very well. (_Goes into her house._)

PAM. Do you run and meet the servants, Parmeno, and help them with the

PAR. Why, don’t they know the way themselves to come to our house?

PAM. (_stamping._) Do you loiter? (_Exit PARMENO._


  _PAMPHILUS, alone._

PAM. I can not discover any fitting commencement of my troubles, at
which to begin to narrate the things that have so unexpectedly
befallen me, some of which with these eyes I have beheld; some I have
heard with my ears; {and} on account of which I so hastily betook
myself, in extreme agitation, out of doors. For just now, when, full
of alarm, I rushed into the house, expecting to find my wife afflicted
with some other malady than what I have found it to be;-- ah me!
immediately the servant-maids beheld that I had arrived, they all at
the same moment joyfully exclaimed, “He is come,” from having so
suddenly caught sight of me. But I soon perceived the countenances of
all of them change,[40] because at so unseasonable a juncture chance
had brought me there. One of them in the mean time hastily ran before
me to give notice that I had come. Impatient to see my wife,
I followed close. When I entered the room, that instant, to my sorrow,
I found out her malady; for neither did the time afford any interval
to enable her to conceal it, nor could she complain in any other
accents than {those which} the case itself prompted. When I perceived
{this}: “O disgraceful conduct!” I exclaimed, and instantly hurried
away from the spot in tears, overwhelmed by such an incredible and
shocking circumstance. Her mother followed me; just as I got to the
threshold, she threw herself on her knees: I felt compassion for her.
Assuredly it is the fact, in my opinion, just as matters befall us
all, so are we elated or depressed. At once she began to address me in
these words: “O my {dear} Pamphilus, you see the reason why she left
your house; for violence was offered to her when formerly a maid, by
some villain to us unknown. Now, she took refuge here then, that from
you and others she might conceal her labor.” But when I call to mind
her entreaties, I can not, wretched as I am, refrain from tears.
“Whatever chance or fortune it is,” said she, “which has brought you
here to-day, by it we do both conjure you, if with equity and justice
we may, that her misfortune may be concealed by you, and kept a secret
from all. If ever you were sensible, my {dear} Pamphilus, that she was
tenderly disposed toward you, she now asks you to grant her this favor
in return, without making any difficulty of it. But as to taking her
back, act quite according to your own convenience. You alone are aware
of her lying-in, and that the child is none of yours. For it is said
that it was two months after the marriage before she had commerce with
you. And then, this is but the seventh month since she came to
you.[41] That you are sensible of this, the circumstances themselves
prove. Now, if it is possible, Pamphilus, I especially wish, and will
use my endeavors, that her labor may remain unknown to her father, and
to all, in fact. But if that can not be managed, and they do find it
out, I will say that she miscarried; I am sure no one will suspect
otherwise than, what is so likely, the child was by you. It shall be
instantly exposed; in that case there is no inconvenience whatever to
yourself, and you will be concealing an outrage so undeservingly
committed upon her,[42] poor thing!” I promised {this}, and I am
resolved to keep faith in what I said. But as to taking her back,
really I do not think that would be at all creditable, nor will I do
so, although love for her, and habit, have a strong influence upon me.
I weep when it occurs to my mind, what must be her life, and {how
great} her loneliness in future. O Fortune, thou hast never been found
constant! But by this time {my} former passion has taught me
experience in the present case. The means by which I got rid of that,
I must employ on the present occasion. Parmeno is coming with the
servants; it is far from convenient that he should be here under
present circumstances, for he was the only person to whom I trusted
the secret that I kept aloof from her when I first married her. I am
afraid lest, if he should frequently hear her cries, he might find out
that she is in labor. He must be dispatched by me somewhere till
Philumena is delivered.


  _Enter at a distance PARMENO and SOSIA, with people carrying

PAR. (_to SOSIA._) Do you say that this voyage was disagreeable to

SOSIA. Upon my faith, Parmeno, it can not be so much as expressed in
words, how disagreeable it is to go on a voyage.

PAR. Do you say so?

SOSIA. O lucky man! You don’t know what evils you have escaped, by
never having been at sea. For to say nothing of other hardships, mark
this one only; thirty days or more[43] was I on board that ship, and
every moment, to my horror, was in continual expectation of death:
such unfavorable weather did we always meet with.

PAR. How annoying!

SOSIA. That’s not unknown to me: in fine, upon my faith, I would
rather run away than go back, if I knew that I should have to go back

PAR. Why really, but slight causes formerly made you, Sosia, do what
now you are threatening to do. But I see Pamphilus himself standing
before the door. (_To the Attendants, who go into the house of
LACHES._) Go in-doors; I’ll accost him, {to see} if he wants any thing
with me. (_Accosts PAMPHILUS._) What, still standing here, master?

PAM. Yes, and waiting for you.

PAR. What’s the matter?

PAM. You must run across to the citadel.[44]

PAR. Who must?

PAM. You.

PAR. To the citadel? Why thither?

PAM. To meet Callidemides, my entertainer at Myconos, who came over in
the same ship with me.

PAR. (_aside._) Confusion! I should say he has made a vow that if ever
he should return home safe, he would rupture me[45] with walking.

PAM. Why are you lingering?

PAR. What do you wish me to say? Or am I to meet him only?

PAM. No; say that I can not meet him to-day, as I appointed, so that
he may not wait for me to no purpose. Fly!

PAR. But I don’t know the man’s appearance.

PAM. Then I’ll tell you how to know it; a huge {fellow}, ruddy, with
curly hair, fat, with gray eyes {and} freckled countenance.

PAR. May the Gods confound him! What if he shouldn’t come? Am I to
wait {there}, even till the evening?

PAM. Yes, wait {there}. Run!

PAR. I can’t; I am so tired. (_Exit slowly._


  _PAMPHILUS, alone._

PAM. He’s off. What shall I do in this distressed situation? Really,
I don’t know in what way I’m to conceal this, as Myrrhina entreated
me, her daughter’s lying-in; but I do pity the woman. What I can, I’ll
do; {only} so long, however, as I observe my duty; for it is proper
that I should be regardful of a parent,[46] rather than of my passion.
But look-- I see Phidippus and my father. They are coming this way;
what to say to them, I’m at a loss. (_Stands apart._)


  _Enter, at a distance, LACHES and PHIDIPPUS._

LACH. Did you not say, just now, that she was waiting for my son’s

PHID. Just so.

LACH. They say that he has arrived; let her return.

PAM. (_apart to himself, aloud._) What excuse to make to my father for
not taking her back, I don’t know!

LACH. (_turning round._) Who was it I heard speaking here?

PAM. (_apart._) I am resolved to persevere in the course I determined
to pursue.

LACH. ’Tis the very person about whom I was talking to you.

PAM. Health to you, my father.

LACH. Health to you, my son.

PHID. I am glad that you have returned, Pamphilus, and the more
especially so, as you are safe and well.

PAM. I believe you.

LACH. Have you but just arrived?

PAM. Only just now.

LACH. Tell me, what has our cousin Phania left us?

PAM. Why really, i’faith, he was a man very much devoted to pleasure
while he lived; and those who are so, don’t much benefit their heirs,
but for themselves leave this commendation: While he lived, he lived

LACH. So then, you have brought home nothing more[48] than a single

PAM. Whatever he has left, we are the gainers by it.

LACH. Why no, it has proved a loss; for I could have wished him alive
and well.

PHID. You may wish that with impunity; he’ll never come to life again;
and after all I know which of the two you would prefer.

LACH. Yesterday, he (_pointing to PHIDIPPUS_) desired Philumena to be
fetched to his house. (_Whispers to PHIDIPPUS, nudging him with his
elbow._) Say that you desired it.

PHID. (_aside to LACHES._) Don’t punch me so. (_To PAMPHILUS._)
I desired it.

LACH. But he’ll now send her home again.

PHID. Of course.

PAM. I know the whole affair, and how it happened; I heard it just
now, on my arrival.

LACH. Then may the Gods confound those spiteful people who told this
news with such readiness!

PAM. (_to PHIDIPPUS._) I am sure that it has been my study, that with
reason no slight might possibly be committed by your family; and if I
were now truthful to mention of how faithful, loving, and tender a
disposition I have proved toward her, I could {do so} truly, did I not
rather wish that you should learn it of herself; for by that method
you will be the more ready to place confidence in my disposition when
she, who is now acting unjustly toward me, speaks favorably of me. And
that through no fault of mine this separation has taken place, I call
the Gods to witness. But since she considers that it is not befitting
her to give way to my mother, and with readiness to conform to her
temper, and as on no other terms it is possible for good feeling to
exist between them, either my mother must be separated, Phidippus,
from me, or else Philumena. Now affection urges me rather to consult
my mother’s pleasure.

LACH. Pamphilus, your words have reached my ears not otherwise than to
my satisfaction, since I find that you postpone all considerations for
your parent. But take care, Pamphilus, lest impelled by resentment,
you carry matters too far.

PAM. How, impelled by resentment, could I now be biased against her
who never has been guilty of any thing toward me, father, that I could
not wish, and who has often deserved as well as I could desire? I both
love and praise and exceedingly regret her, for I have found by
experience that she was of a wondrously engaging disposition with
regard to myself; and I sincerely wish that she may spend the
remainder of her life with a husband who may prove more fortunate than
me, since necessity {thus} tears her from me.

PHID. ’Tis in your own power to prevent that.

LACH. If you are in your senses, order her to come back.

PAM. It is not my intention, father; I shall study my mother’s
interests. (_Going away._)

LACH. Whither are you going? Stay, stay, I tell you; whither are you
going? (_Exit PAMPHILUS._



PHID. What obstinacy is this?

LACH. Did I not tell you, Phidippus, that he would take this matter
amiss? It was for that reason I entreated you to send your daughter

PHID. Upon my faith, I did not believe he would be so brutish; does he
now fancy that I shall come begging to him? If {so} it is that he
chooses to take back his wife, why, let him; if he is of another mind,
let him pay back her portion,[49] {and} take himself off.

LACH. Just look at that, now; you too are getting obstinate and

PHID. (_speaking with anger._) You have returned to us in a very
ungovernable mood, Pamphilus.

LACH. This anger will depart; although he has some reason for being

PHID. Because you have had a windfall, a little money, your minds are

LACH. Are you going to fall out with me, too?

PHID. Let him consider, and bring me word to-day, whether he will or
will not, that she may belong to another if she does not to him.
(_Goes hastily into his own house._)

LACH. Phidippus, stay; listen to a few words--


  _LACHES, alone._

LACH. He’s off; what matters it to me? In fine, let them manage it
between themselves, just as they please; since neither my son nor he
pay any regard to me; they care but little for what I say. I’ll carry
the quarrel to my wife, by whose planning all these things have been
brought about, and against her I will vent all the vexation that I



  _Enter MYRRHINA, from her house._

MYR. I am undone! What am I to do? which way turn myself? In my
wretchedness, what answer am I to give to my husband? For he seems to
have heard the voice of the child when crying, so suddenly did he rush
in to my daughter without saying a word. What if he comes to know that
she has been delivered? for what reason I am to say I kept it
concealed, upon my faith I do not know. But there’s a noise at the
door; I believe it is himself coming out to me: I’m utterly undone!


  _Enter PHIDIPPUS, from the house._

PHID. (_to himself._) My wife, when she saw me going to my daughter,
betook herself out of the house: and look, there she is. (_Addressing
her._) What have you to say, Myrrhina? Hark you! to you I speak.

MYR. What, to me, my husband?

PHID. Am I your husband? Do you consider me a husband, or a man, in
fact? For, woman, if I had ever appeared to you to be either of these,
I should not in this way have been held in derision by your doings.

MYR. By what {doings}?

PHID. Do you ask the question? Is not your daughter brought to bed?
Eh, are you silent? By whom?

MYR. Is it proper for a father to be asking such a question? Oh,
shocking! By whom do you think, pray, except by him to whom she was
given in marriage?

PHID. I believe it; nor indeed is it for a father to think otherwise.
But I wonder much what the reason can be for which you so very much
wish all of us to be in ignorance of the truth, especially when she
has been delivered properly, and at the right time.[50] That you
should be of a mind so perverse as to prefer that the child should
perish, through which you might be sure that hereafter there would be
a friendship more lasting between us, rather than that, at the expense
of your feelings, his wife should continue with him! I supposed this
to be their fault, while {in reality} it lies with you.

MYR. I am an unhappy creature!

PHID. I wish I were sure that so it was; but now it recurs to my mind
what you once said about this matter, when we accepted him as {our}
son-in-law. For you declared that you could not endure your daughter
to be married to a person who was attached to a courtesan, {and} who
spent his nights away from home.

MYR. (_aside._) Any cause whatever I had rather he should suspect than
the right one.

PHID. I knew much sooner than you did, Myrrhina, that he kept a
mistress; but this I never considered a crime in young men; for it is
natural to them all. For, i’ faith, the time will soon come when even
he will be disgusted with himself {for doing so}. But just as you
formerly showed yourself, you have never ceased to be the same up to
the present time; in order that you might withdraw your daughter from
him, and that what I did might not hold good, one thing itself now
plainly proves how far you wished it carried out.

MYR. Do you suppose that I am so willful that I could have entertained
such feelings toward one whose mother I am, if this match had been to
our advantage?

PHID. Can you possibly foresee or judge what is to our advantage? You
have heard it of some one, perhaps, who has told you that he has seen
him coming from or going to his mistress. What then? If he has done so
with discretion, and but occasionally, is it not more kind in us to
conceal our knowledge of it, than to do our best to be aware of it, in
consequence of which he will detest us? For if he could all at once
have withdrawn himself from her with whom he had been intimate for so
many years, I should not have deemed him a man, or likely to prove a
constant husband for our daughter.

MYR. Do have done about the young man, I pray; and what you say I’ve
been guilty of. Go away, meet him by yourself; ask him whether he
wishes to have her as a wife or not; if so it is that he should say he
does wish it, {why}, send her {back}; but if on the other hand he does
not wish it, I have taken the best course for my {child}.

PHID. And suppose he does not wish it, and you, Myrrhina, knew him to
be in fault; {still} I was at hand, by whose advice it was proper for
these matters to be settled; therefore I am greatly offended that you
have presumed to act thus without my leave. I forbid you to attempt to
carry the child any where out of this house. But I am very foolish to
be expecting her to obey my orders. I’ll go in-doors, and charge the
servants to allow it to be carried out nowhere. (_Goes into the


  _MYRRHINA, alone._

MYR. Upon my faith, I do believe that there is no woman living more
wretched than I; for how he would take it, if he came to know the real
state of the case, i’ faith, is not unknown to me, when he bears this,
which is of less consequence, with such angry feelings; and I know not
in what way his sentiments can possibly be changed. Out of very many
misfortunes, this one evil alone had been wanting to me, for him to
compel me to rear a child of whom we know not who is the father; for
when my daughter was ravished, it was so dark that his person could
not be distinguished, nor was any thing taken from him on the occasion
by which it could be afterward discovered who he was. He, on leaving
her, took away from the girl, by force, a ring which[51] she had upon
her finger. I am afraid, too, of Pamphilus, that he may be unable any
longer to conceal what I have requested, when he learns that the child
of another is being brought up as his. (_Goes into the house._)



SOS. It is not unknown to me, my son, that I am suspected by you as
the cause of your wife having left our house in consequence of my
conduct; although you carefully conceal your knowledge of it. But so
may the Gods prosper me, and so may you answer all my hopes, I have
never knowingly deserved that hatred of me should with reason possess
her; and while I thought before that you loved me, on that point you
have confirmed my belief: for in-doors your father has just now
related to me in what way you have preferred me to your passion. Now
it is my determination to return you the favor, that you may
understand that with me lies the reward of your affection. My
Pamphilus, I think that this is expedient both for yourselves and my
own reputation. I have finally resolved to retire hence into the
country with your father, that my presence may not be an obstacle,
and that no pretense may remain why your Philumena should not return
to you.

PAM. Pray, what sort of resolution is this? Driven away by her folly,
would you be removing from the city to live in the country? You shall
not do {so}; and I will not permit, mother, any one who may wish to
censure us, to say that this has been done through my perverseness,
{and} not your inclination. Besides, I do not wish you, for my sake,
to forego your friends and relations, and festive days.[52]

SOS. Upon my word, these things afford me no pleasure now. While my
time of life permitted it, I enjoyed them enough; satiety of that mode
of life has now taken possession of me: this is at present my chief
concern, that the length of my life may prove an annoyance to no one,
or that he may look forward with impatience to my death.[53] Here I
see that, without deserving it, I am disliked; it is time for {me} to
retire. Thus, in the best way, I imagine, I shall cut short all
grounds {of discontent} with all; I shall both free myself from
suspicion, and shall be pleasing them. Pray, let me avoid this
reproach, which so generally attaches on women to their disadvantage.

PAM. (_aside._) How happy am I in other respects, were it not for this
one thing alone, in having such a {good} mother, and her for my wife!

SOS. Pray, my Pamphilus, can you not, seeing how each woman is,
prevail upon yourself to put up with one matter of inconvenience? If
every thing else is according to your wish, and such as I take it to
be-- my son, do grant me this indulgence, {and} take her back.

PAM. Alas! wretched me!

SOS. And me as well; for this affair does not cause me less sorrow
than you, my son.


  _Enter LACHES._

LACH. While standing just by here, I have heard, wife, the
conversation you have been holding with him. It is true wisdom to be
enabled to govern the feelings whenever there is necessity; to do at
the present moment what may perhaps, in the end, be necessary to be

SOS. Good luck to it, i’troth.

LACH. Retire then into the country; there I will bear with you, and
you with me.

SOS. I hope so, i’faith.

LACH. Go in-doors then, and get together the things that are to be
taken with you. I have {now} said it.

SOS. I’ll do as you desire. (_Goes into the house._)

PAM. Father!

LACH. What do you want, Pamphilus?

PAM. My mother go away? By no means.

LACH. Why would you have it so?

PAM. Because I am as yet undetermined what I shall do about my wife.

LACH. How is that? What should you intend to do but bring her home?

PAM. For my part, I could like, and can hardly forbear it; but I shall
not alter my design; that which is most advantageous I shall pursue;
I suppose (_ironically_) that they will be better reconciled, in
consequence, if I shall take her back.

LACH. You can not tell. But it matters nothing to you which they do
when she has gone away. {Persons of} this age are disliked by young
people; it is right {for us} to withdraw from the world; in fine, we
are now a {nice} by-word. We are, Pamphilus, “the old man and the old
woman.”[54] But I see Phidippus coming out just at the time; let’s
accost him.


  _Enter PHIDIPPUS, from his house._

PHID. (_speaking at the door to PHILUMENA, within._) Upon my faith,
I am angry with you too, Philumena, extremely so, for, on my word, you
have acted badly; still there is an excuse for you in this matter;
your mother forced you to it; but for her there is none.

LACH. (_accosting him._) Phidippus, you meet me at a lucky moment,
just at the very time.

PHID. What’s the matter?

PAM. (_aside._) What answer shall I make them, or in what manner keep
this secret?

LACH. (_to PHIDIPPUS._) Tell your daughter that Sostrata is going into
the country, that she may not now be afraid of returning home.

PHID. Alas! your wife has been guilty of no fault in this affair; all
this {mischief} has originated in my wife Myrrhina.

PAM. (_aside._) They are changing sides.

PHID. ’Tis she that causes our disturbances, Laches.

PAM. (_aside._) So long as I don’t take her back, let her cause as
much disturbance as she pleases.

PHID. I, Pamphilus, could really wish, if it were possible, this
alliance between us to be lasting; but if you are otherwise inclined,
{still} take the child.[55]

PAM. (_aside._) He has discovered that she has been brought to bed.
I’m undone!

LACH. The child! What child?

PHID. We have had a grandson born to us; for my daughter was removed
from you in a state of pregnancy, and yet never before this day did I
know that she was pregnant.

LACH. So may the Gods prosper me, you bring good tidings, and I am
glad a child has been born, and that she is safe: but what {kind of}
woman have you for a wife, or of what sort of a temper, that we should
have been kept in ignorance of this so long? I can not sufficiently
express how disgraceful this conduct appears to me.

PHID. This conduct does not vex me less than yourself, Laches.

PAM. (_aside._) Even if it had just now been a matter of doubt to me,
it is so no longer, since the child of another man is to accompany

LACH. Pamphilus, there is no room now for deliberation for you in this

PAM. (_aside._) I’m undone!

LACH. (_to PAMPHILUS._) We were often longing to see the day on which
there should be one to call you father; it has come to pass. I return
thanks to the Gods.

PAM. (_aside._) I am ruined!

LACH. Take home your wife, and don’t oppose my will.

PAM. Father, if she had wished to have children by me, or to continue
to be my wife, I am quite certain she would not have concealed from me
what I find she has concealed. Now, as I find that her mind is
estranged from me, and think that there would be no agreement between
us in future, why should I take her back?

LACH. The young woman has done what her mother persuaded her. Is that
to be wondered at? Do you suppose you can find any woman who is free
from fault? Or is it that men have no failings?

PHID. Do you yourselves now consider, Laches, and you, Pamphilus,
whether it is most advisable for you to leave her or take her back.
What your wife may do, is not in my control. Under neither
circumstance will you meet with any difficulty from me. But what are
we to do with the child?

LACH. You do ask an absurd question; whatever happens, send him back
his {child} of course, that we may bring it up as ours.

PAM. (_in a low voice._) A child which the father has abandoned, am I
to rear?

LACH. What was it you said? How-- not rear it, Pamphilus? Prithee, are
we to expose it, in preference? What madness is this? Really, I can
not now be silent any longer. For you force me to say in his presence
(_pointing to PHIDIPPUS_) what I would rather not. Do you suppose I am
in ignorance {of the cause} of your tears, or what it is on account of
which you are perplexed to this degree? In the first place, when you
alleged as a reason, that, on account of your mother, you could not
have your wife at home, she promised that she would leave the house.
Now, since you see this pretext as well taken away from you, because a
child has been born without your knowledge, you have got another. You
are mistaken if you suppose that I am ignorant of your feelings. That
at last you might prevail upon your feelings to take this step, how
long a period for loving a mistress did I allow you! With what
patience did I bear the expense you were at in keeping her!
I remonstrated with you and entreated you to take a wife. I said that
it was time: by my persuasion you married. What you then did in
obedience to me, you did as became you. Now again you have set your
fancy upon a mistress, and, to gratify her, you do an injury to the
other as well. For I see plainly that you have once more relapsed into
the same course of life.

PAM. What, I?

LACH. Your own self, and you act unjustly therein. You feign false
grounds for discord, that you may live with her when you have got rid
of this witness {of your actions}; your wife has perceived it too; for
what other reason had she for leaving you?

PHID. (_to himself._) It’s clear he guesses right; for that must be

PAM. I will give you my oath that none of these is the reason.

LACH. Oh take home your wife, or tell me why you should not.

PAM. It is not the time at present.

LACH. Take the child, for surely that is not in fault; I will consider
about the mother afterward.

PAM. (_apart._) In every way I am wretched, and what to do I know not;
with so many troubles is my father now besetting wretched me on every
side. I’ll go away from here, since I avail but little by my presence.
For without my consent, I do not believe that they will bring up the
child, especially as on that point my mother-in-law will second me.
(_Exit speedily._



LACH. (_to PAMPHILUS._) Do you run away? What, and give me no distinct
answer? (_To PHIDIPPUS._) Does he seem to you to be in his senses? Let
him alone. Phidippus, give me the child; I’ll bring it up.

PHID. By all means. No wonder if my wife has taken this amiss: women
are resentful; they do not easily put up with such things. Hence that
anger of hers, for she herself told me of it; I would not mention this
to you in his presence, and at first I did not believe her; but now it
is true beyond a doubt; for I see that his feelings are altogether
averse to marriage.

LACH. What am I to do, then, Phidippus? What advice do you give?

PHID. What are you to do? I am of opinion that first we ought to go to
this mistress of {his}. Let us use entreaties with her; {then} let us
rebuke her; and at last, let us very seriously threaten her, if she
gives him any encouragement in future.

LACH. I will do as you advise. (_Turning to an ATTENDANT._) Ho, there,
boy! run to the house of Bacchis here, our neighbor; desire her, in my
name, to come hither. (_Exit ATTENDANT._) And you, I further entreat,
to give me your assistance in this affair.

PHID. Well, I have already said, and I now say again to the same
effect, Laches, I wish this alliance between us to continue, if by any
means it possibly may, which I trust will be the case. But should you
like[56] me to be with you while you meet her?

LACH. Why yes; but first go and get some one as a nurse for the child.


  _Enter BACCHIS, attended by her WOMEN._

BACCH. (_to her WOMEN._) It is not for nothing that Laches now desires
to speak with me; and, i’ faith, I am not very far from mistaken in
making a guess what it is he wants me for.

LACH. (_to himself._) I must take care that I don’t, through anger,
miss gaining in this quarter what I {otherwise} might, and that I
don’t do any thing which hereafter it would have been better I had not
done. I’ll accost her. (_Accosts her._) Bacchis, good-morrow to you!

BACCH. Good-morrow to you, Laches!

LACH. Troth, now, Bacchis, I suppose you somewhat wonder what can be
my reason for sending the lad to fetch you out of doors.

BACCH. Upon my faith, I am even in some anxiety as well, when I
reflect what I am, lest the name of my calling should be to my
prejudice; for my behavior I can easily defend.

LACH. If you speak the truth, you will be in no danger, woman, from
me, for I am now of that age that it is not meet for me to receive
forgiveness for a fault; for that reason do I the more carefully
attend to every particular, that I may not act with rashness; for if
you now do, or intend to do, that which is proper for deserving
{women} to do, it would be unjust for me, in my ignorance, to offer an
injury to you, when undeserving of it.

BACCH. On my word, great is the gratitude that I ought to feel toward
you for such conduct; for he who, after committing an injury, would
excuse himself, would profit me but little. But what is the matter?

LACH. You admit my son, Pamphilus, to your house.


LACH. Just let me {speak}: before he was married to this woman,
I tolerated your amour. Stay! I have not yet said to you what I
intended. He has now got a wife: look out for another person more to
be depended on, while you have time to deliberate; for neither will he
be of this mind all his life, nor, i’ faith, will you be {always} of
your present age.

BACCH. Who is it says this?

LACH. His mother-in-law.

BACCH. What! that I--

LACH. That you {do}: and she has taken away her daughter; and for that
reason, has wished secretly to destroy the child that has been born.

BACCH. Did I know any other means whereby I might be enabled to
establish my credit with you, more solemn than an oath, I would,
Laches, assure you of this, that I have kept Pamphilus at a
distance[57] from me ever since he took a wife.

LACH. You are very good. But, pray, do you know what I would prefer
that you should do?

BACCH. What? Tell me.

LACH. Go in-doors there (_pointing to the house of PHIDIPPUS_) to the
women, and make the same promise, on oath, to them; satisfy their
minds, and clear yourself from this charge.

BACCH. I will do {so}; although, i’faith, if it had been any other
woman of this calling, she would not have done so, I am quite sure;
present herself before a married woman for such a purpose! But I do
not wish your son to be suspected on an unfounded report, nor appear
inconstant, undeservedly, to you, to whom he by no means ought; for he
has deserved of me, that, so far as I am able, I should do him a

LACH. Your language has rendered me quite friendly and well disposed
toward you; but not only did they think {so}-- I too believed it. Now
that I have found you quite different from what I had expected, take
care that you still continue the same-- make use of my friendship as
you please; if otherwise----; but I will forbear, that you may not
hear any thing unkind from me. But this one thing I recommend you--
make trial what sort of a friend I am, or what I can effect {as such},
rather than {what as} an enemy.


  _Enter PHIDIPPUS and a NURSE._

PHID. (_to the NURSE._) Nothing at my house will I suffer you to be in
want of; but whatever is requisite shall be supplied {you} in
abundance. Still, when you are well fed and well drenched, do take
care that the child has enough. (_The NURSE goes into his house._)

LACH. (_to BACCHIS._) My son’s father-in-law, I see, is coming; he is
bringing a nurse for the child. (_Accosting him._) Phidippus, Bacchis
swears most solemnly.

PHID. Is this she?

LACH. It is.

PHID. Upon my faith, those women don’t fear the Gods; and I don’t
think that the Gods care about them.

BACCH. (_pointing to her ATTENDANTS._) I will give you up my female
servants; with my full permission, examine them with any tortures you
please. The business at present is this: I must make his wife return
home to Pamphilus; should I effect that, I shall not regret its being
reported that I have been the only one to do what other courtesans
avoid doing.[58]

LACH. We find, Phidippus, that our wives have been unjustly
suspected[59] by us in this matter. Let us now try her still further;
for if your wife discovers that she has given credence to a false
charge, she will dismiss her resentment; but if my son is also angry,
by reason of the circumstance that his wife has been brought to bed
without his knowledge, that is a trifle: his anger on that account
will speedily subside. Assuredly in this matter, there is nothing so
bad as to be deserving of a separation.

PHID. I sincerely wish it may be {so}.

LACH. Examine {her}; here she is; she herself will satisfy you.

PHID. Why do you tell me these things? {Is it} because you have not
already heard what my feelings are with regard to this matter, Laches?
Do you only satisfy their minds.

LACH. Troth now, Bacchis, I do entreat that what you have promised me
you will do.

BACCH. Would you wish me, then, to go in about this business?

LACH. Go, and satisfy their minds, so as to make them believe it.

BACCH. I’ll go: although, upon my word, I am quite sure that my
presence will be disagreeable to them, for a married woman is the
enemy of a mistress, when she has been separated from her husband.

LACH. But they will be your friends, when they know the reason of your

PHID. And I promise that they shall be your friends, when they know
the fact; for you will release them from their mistake, and yourself,
at the same time, from suspicion.

BACCH. Wretched me! I’m ashamed {to meet} Philumena. (_To her
ATTENDANTS._) Do you both follow me into the house. (_Goes into the
house with PHIDIPPUS and her ATTENDANTS._)

LACH. (_to himself._) What is there that I could more wish for, than
what I see has happened to this woman? To gain favor without loss to
myself, and to benefit myself at {the same time}. For if now it is the
fact that she has really withdrawn from Pamphilus, she knows that by
that step she has acquired honor and reputation: she returns the favor
to him, and, by the same means, attaches us as friends to herself.
(_Goes into the house._)



  _Enter PARMENO, moving along with difficulty._

PAR. (_to himself._) Upon my faith, my master does assuredly think my
labor of little value; to have sent me for nothing, where I have been
sitting the whole day to no purpose, waiting at the citadel for
Callidemides, his landlord at Myconos. And so, while sitting there
to-day, {like} a fool, as each person came by, I accosted him:--
“Young man, just tell me, pray, are you a Myconian?” “I am not.” “But
is your name Callidemides?” “No.” “Have you any {former} guest here
{named} Pamphilus?” All said. “No; and I don’t believe that there is
any such person.” At last, i’ faith, I was quite ashamed, {and} went
away. But how is it I see Bacchis coming out of our neighbor’s? What
business can she have there?


  _Enter BACCHIS, from the house of PHIDIPPUS._

BACCH. Parmeno, you make your appearance opportunely; run with all
speed[60] to Pamphilus.

PAR. Why thither?

BACCH. Say that I entreat him to come.

PAR. To your house?

BACCH. No; to Philumena.

PAR. What’s the matter?

BACCH. Nothing that concerns you; so cease to make inquiry.

PAR. Am I to say nothing else?

BACCH. Yes; that Myrrhina has recognized that ring as her daughter’s,
which he formerly gave me.

PAR. I understand-- is that all?

BACCH. That’s all. He will be here directly he has heard this from
you. But do you linger?

PAR. Far from it, indeed; for I’ve not had the opportunity given me
to-day; so much with running and walking about have I wasted the whole
day. (_Goes into the house of LACHES._)


  _BACCHIS, alone._

BACCH. What great joy have I caused for Pamphilus by my coming to-day!
How many blessings have I brought him! and from how many sorrows have
I rescued him! A son I save for him, when it was nearly perishing
through the agency of these {women} and of himself: a wife, whom he
thought that he must cast off forever, I restore {to him}: from the
suspicion that he lay under with his father and Phidippus, I have
cleared him. This ring, in fact, was the cause of these discoveries
being made. For I remember, that about ten months ago, at an early
hour of night, he came running home to my house, out of breath,
without a companion, and surcharged with wine,[61] with this ring {in
his hand}. I felt alarmed immediately: “My Pamphilus,” I said,
“prithee, my dear, why thus breathless, or where did you get that
ring? --tell me!” He {began} to pretend that he was thinking of
something else. When I saw {that}, I began to suspect I know not what,
{and} to press him still more to tell me. The fellow confessed that he
had ravished {some female}, he knew not whom, in the street; and said,
that while she was struggling, he had taken that ring away from her.
Myrrhina here recognized it just now, while I had it on my finger. She
asked whence it came: I told her all the story. Hence the discovery
has been made that it was Philumena ravished by him, and that this
new-born child is his. I am overjoyed that this happiness has befallen
him through my agency; although other courtesans would not have
similar feelings; nor, indeed, is it to our interest that any lover
should find pleasure in matrimony. But, i’faith, I never, for the sake
of gain, will give my mind to base actions. So long as I had the
opportunity, I found him to be kind, easy, and good-natured. This
marriage has fallen out unluckily for me,-- that I confess to be the
fact. But, upon my word, I do think that I have done nothing for it to
befall me deservedly. It is but reasonable to endure inconveniences
from one from whom I have received so many benefits.


  _Enter PAMPHILUS and PARMENO, from the house of LACHES, on the other
  side of the stage._

PAM. Once more, take care, will you, my {dear} Parmeno, that you have
brought me a faithful and distinct account, so as not to allure me for
a short time to indulge in these transient joys.

PAR. I have taken care.

PAM. For certain?

PAR. For certain.

PAM. I am quite a God, if it is so!

PAR. You’ll find it true.

PAM. Just stay, will you; I fear that I’m believing one thing, and you
are telling another.

PAR. I am staying.

PAM. I think you said to this effect-- that Myrrhina had discovered
that Bacchis has her ring.

PAR. It is the fact.

PAM. The one I formerly gave to her; and she has desired you to tell
me this: is such the fact?

PAR. Such is so, I tell you.

PAM. Who is there happier than I, and, in fact, more full of
joyousness? What am I to present you for these tidings? What? --what?
I know not.

PAR. But I know.

PAM. What?

PAR. Why, nothing; for neither in the tidings nor in myself do I know
of there being any advantage to you.

PAM. What! am I to suffer you, who have caused me, when dead, to be
restored from the shades to life-- to leave me unrewarded? Oh, you
deem me too thankless! But look-- I see Bacchis standing before the
door; she’s waiting for me, I suppose; I’ll accost her.

BACCH. Save you, Pamphilus!

PAM. Oh Bacchis! Oh my Bacchis-- my preserver!

BACCH. {It is} a fortunate thing, and gives me great delight.

PAM. By your actions, you give me reason to believe you, and so much
do you retain your former charming qualities, that wherever you go,
the meeting with you, your company, your conversation, always give

BACCH. And you, upon my word, possess your former manners and
disposition; so much so that not a single man living is more engaging
than you.

PAM. (_laughing._) Ha, ha, ha! do you {tell} me so?

BACCH. You had reason, Pamphilus, for being so fond of your wife. For
never before to-day did I set eyes upon her, so as to know her: she
seems a very gentle person.

PAM. Tell the truth.

BACCH. So may the Gods bless me, Pamphilus!

PAM. Tell me, have you as yet told any of these matters to my father?

BACCH. Not a word.

PAM. Nor is there need, in fact; therefore keep it a secret: I don’t
wish it to be the case here as it is in the Comedies,[62] where every
thing is known to every body. Here, those who ought to know, know
already; but those who ought not to know, shall neither hear of it nor
know it.

BACCH. Nay more, I will give you a {proof} why you may suppose that
this may be the more easily concealed. Myrrhina has told Phidippus to
this effect-- that she has given credit to my oath, and that, in
consequence, in her eyes you are exculpated.

PAM. Most excellent; and I trust that this matter will turn out
according to our wishes.

PAR. Master, may I not be allowed to know from you what is the good
that I have done to-day, or what it is you are talking about?

PAM. You may not.

PAR. Still I suspect. “I {restore} him, when dead, from the shades
below.”[63] In what way?

PAM. You don’t know, Parmeno, how much you have benefited me to-day,
and from what troubles you have extricated me.

PAR. Nay, but indeed I do know: and I did not do it without design.

PAM. I know that well enough (_ironically_).

BACCH. Could Parmeno, from negligence, omit any thing that ought to be

PAM. Follow me in, Parmeno.

PAR. I’ll follow; for my part, I have done more good to-day, without
knowing it, than ever {I did}, knowingly, in all my life. (_Coming
forward._) Grant us your applause.[64]


  [Footnote 1: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]

  [Footnote 2: From φειδὼ, “parsimony,” and ἱππὸς “a horse.”]

  [Footnote 3: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

  [Footnote 4: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

  [Footnote 5: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]

  [Footnote 6: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Heautontimorumenos.]

  [Footnote 7: From μυῤῥινὴ “a myrtle.”]

  [Footnote 8: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Heautontimorumenos.]

  [Footnote 9: From φιλοτὴς “friendship.”]

  [Footnote 10: From Syria, her native country.]

  [Footnote 11: _Menander_)--According to some, this Play was
  borrowed from the Greek of Apollodorus, a Comic Poet and
  contemporary of Menander, who wrote forty-seven Plays.]

  [Footnote 12: _Being Consuls_)--Cneius Octavius Nepos and T.
  Manlius Torquatus were Consuls in the year from the building of
  the City 587, and B.C. 166.]

  [Footnote 13: _It was then approved of_)--“Placuit.” This is
  placed at the end, in consequence of the inauspicious reception
  which had been given to it on the two first representations. See
  the account given in the Prologues.]

  [Footnote 14: _Hecyra_)--Ver. 1. The Greek word Ἕκυρα,
  a “step-mother,” or “mother-in-law,” Latinized.]

  [Footnote 15: _And calamity_)--Ver. 3. “Calamitas.” This word is
  used in the same sense in the first line of the Eunuch. This is
  evidently the Prologue spoken on the second attempt to bring
  forward the piece. On the first occasion it probably had none.
  “Vitium” was a word used by the Augurs, with whom it implied an
  unfavorable omen, and thence came to be used for any misfortune or
  disaster. He seems to mean the depraved taste of the public, that
  preferred exhibitions of rope-dancers and pugilists to witnessing
  his Plays.]

  [Footnote 16: _Again to sell it_)--Ver. 7. See the last Note to
  the Second Prologue.]

  [Footnote 17: _Other Plays of his_)--Ver. 8. Madame Dacier informs
  us that Vossius was of opinion that the second representation of
  this Play did not take place till after that of the Adelphi. In
  that case, they had already seen the rest of his Plays.]

  [Footnote 18: _Second Prologue_)--Eugraphius informs us that this
  Prologue was spoken by Ambivius Turpio, the head of the company of

  [Footnote 19: _Cæcilius_)--Ver. 14. Colman has the following Note:
  “A famous Comic Poet among the Romans. His chief excellences are
  said to have been, the gravity of his style and the choice of his
  subjects. The first quality was attributed to him by Horace,
  Tully, etc., and the last by Varro. ‘In argumentis Cæcilius poscit
  palmam, in ethesi Terentius.’ ‘In the choice of subjects, Cæcilius
  demands the preference; in the manners, Terence.’” Madame Dacier,
  indeed, renders “in argumentis,” “in the disposition of his
  subjects.” But the words will not bear that construction.
  “Argumentum,” I believe, is uniformly used for the argument
  itself, and never implies the conduct of it; as in the Prologue to
  the Andrian, “non tam dissimili argumento.” Besides, the
  disposition of the subject was the very art attributed by the
  critics of those days to Terence, and which Horace mentions in the
  very same line with the gravity of Cæcilius, distinguishing them
  as the several characteristics of each writer, “Vincere Cæcilius
  gravitate, Terentius arte.”]

  [Footnote 20: _Vauntings of boxers_)--Ver. 33. Horace probably had
  this passage in his mind when he penned the First Epistle in his
  Second Book, l. 185; where he mentions the populace leaving a Play
  in the midst for the sight of a bear, or an exhibition of boxers.]

  [Footnote 21: _Of a rope-dancer_)--Ver. 34. The art of dancing on
  the tight rope was carried to great perfection among the ancients.
  Many paintings have been discovered, which show the numerous
  attitudes which the performers assumed. The figures have their
  heads enveloped in skins or caps, probably intended as a
  protection in case of falling. At the conclusion of the
  performance the dancer ran down the rope. Germanicus and Galba are
  said to have exhibited elephants dancing on the tight rope.]

  [Footnote 22: _The old custom of mine_)--Ver. 38. He says that on
  the second representation he followed the plan which he had
  formerly adopted in the Plays of Cæcilius, of bringing those
  forward again which had not given satisfaction at first.]

  [Footnote 23: _Fight for their places_)--Ver. 41. This was in
  consequence of their sitting indiscriminately at the Amphitheatre,
  where the gladiators were exhibited; whereas at the Theatres there
  were distinct places appropriated to each “ordo” or class.]

  [Footnote 24: _Gracing the scenic festival_)--Ver. 45. Madame
  Dacier remarks that there is great force and eloquence in the
  Actor’s affecting a concern for the sacred festivals, which were
  in danger of being deprived of their chief ornaments, if by too
  great a severity they discouraged the Poets who undertook to
  furnish the Plays during the solemnity.]

  [Footnote 25: _At my own expense_)--Ver. 57. It is generally
  supposed that “meo pretio” means “a price named as my estimate;”
  and that it was the custom for the Ædiles to purchase a Play of a
  Poet at a price fixed by the head of the company of actors. It is
  also thought that the money was paid to the actor, who handed over
  the whole, or a certain part, to the Poet, and if the Play was not
  received with favor, the Ædiles had the right to ask back the
  money from the actor, who consequently became a loser by the
  transaction. Pareus and Meric Casaubon think, however, that in
  case of this Play, the Ædiles had purchased it from the Poet, and
  the performers had bought it of the Ædiles as a speculation. What
  he means at the end of the First Prologue by selling the Play over
  again, is not exactly known. Perhaps if the Play had been then
  performed throughout and received with no favor, he would have had
  to forfeit the money, and lose all right to any future pecuniary
  interest in it; but he preferred to cancel the whole transaction,
  and to reserve the Play for purchase and representation at a more
  favorable period.]

  [Footnote 26: _Philotis_)--This is a protatic character, or one
  that helps to introduce the subject of the Play, and then appears
  no more.]

  [Footnote 27: _Don’t say so, Parmeno_)--Ver. 109. She says this
  ironically, at the same time intimating that she knows Parmeno too
  well, not to be sure that he is as impatient to impart the secret
  to her as she is to know it. Donatus remarks, that she pretends
  she has no curiosity to hear it, that he may deem her the more
  worthy to be intrusted with the secret.]

  [Footnote 28: _Imbros_)--Ver. 171. An island in the Ægean Sea, off
  the coast of Thrace.]

  [Footnote 29: _From her presence_)--Ver. 182. For the purpose, as
  will afterward appear, of not letting Sostrata see that she was

  [Footnote 30: _With a certain stranger_)--Ver. 195. Here Philotis
  gives a reason, as Donatus observes, why she does not again appear
  in the Play. The following is an extract from Colman’s remarks on
  this passage: “It were to be wished, for the sake of the credit of
  our author’s acknowledged {art} in the Drama, that Philotis had
  assigned as good a reason for her appearing at all. Eugraphius
  justly says: ‘The Courtesan in this Scene is a character quite
  foreign to the fable.’ Donatus also says much the same thing in
  his Preface, and in his first Note to this Comedy; but adds that
  ‘Terence chose this method rather than to relate the argument by
  means of a Prologue, or to introduce a God speaking from a
  machine. I will venture to say that the Poet might have taken a
  much shorter and easier method than either; I mean, to have begun
  the Play with the very Scene which now opens the Second Act.’”]

  [Footnote 31: _Scene I._)--Colman has the following observations
  on this Scene: “Donatus remarks that this Scene opens the
  intention of Terence to oppose the generally-received opinion, and
  to draw the character of a good step-mother. It would, therefore,
  as has been already observed, have been a very proper Scene to
  begin the Play, as it carries us immediately into the midst of
  things; and we can not fail to be interested when we see the
  persons acting so deeply interested themselves. We gather from it
  just so much of the story as is necessary for our information at
  first setting out. We are told of the abrupt departure of
  Philumena, and are witnesses of the confusion in the two families
  of Laches and Phidippus. The absence of Laches, which had been in
  great measure the occasion of this misunderstanding, is also very
  artfully mentioned in the altercation between him and Sostrata.
  The character of Laches is very naturally drawn. He has a good
  heart, and a testy disposition, and the poor old gentleman is kept
  in such constant perplexity that he has perpetual occasion to
  exert both those qualities.”]

  [Footnote 32: _Intrust their children_)--Ver. 212. The plural
  “liberos,” children, is used where only one is being spoken of,
  similarly, in the Heautontimorumenos, l. 151.]

  [Footnote 33: _If he comes to know_)--Ver. 262. Donatus observes
  that the Poet shows his art in here preparing a reason to be
  assigned by Pamphilus for his pretended discontent at the
  departure of his wife.]

  [Footnote 34: _Ha! Sostrata_)--Ver. 271. Colman observes on this
  passage: “This is extremely artful. The answer of Philumena, as
  related by Phidippus, contains an ample vindication of Pamphilus.
  What, then, can we suppose could make the house so disagreeable to
  her in his absence, but the behavior of Sostrata? She declares her
  innocence; yet appearances are all against her. Supposing this to
  be the first Act of the Play, it would be impossible for a Comedy
  to open in a more interesting manner.”]

  [Footnote 35: _And carry word_)--Ver. 314. It was the custom with
  the Greeks and Romans, when returning from abroad, to send a
  messenger before them, to inform their wives of their arrival.]

  [Footnote 36: _Was in alarm about_)--Ver. 321. “Pavitare.”
  Casaubon has a curious suggestion here; he thinks it not
  improbable that he had heard the female servants whispering among
  themselves that Philumena “paritare,” “was about to be brought to
  bed,” which he took for “pavitare,” “was in fear” of something.]

  [Footnote 37: _Heavy punishment_)--Ver. 335. Probably meaning that
  he will be examined by torture, whether he has not, by drugs or
  other means, contributed to Philumena’s illness.]

  [Footnote 38: _And thee, Health_)--Ver. 338. She invokes
  Æsculapius, the God of Medicine, and “Salus,” or “Health,”
  because, in Greece, their statues were always placed near each
  other; so that to have offered prayers to one and not to the
  other, would have been deemed a high indignity. On the worship of
  Æsculapius, see the opening Scene of the Curculio of Plautus.]

  [Footnote 39: _An intermitting one_)--Ver. 357. “Quotidiana;”
  literally, “daily.”]

  [Footnote 40: _All of them change_)--Ver. 369. This must have been
  imaginary, as they were not likely to be acquainted with the
  reason of Philumena’s apprehensions.]

  [Footnote 41: _Since she came to you_)--Ver. 394. There is great
  doubt what is the exact meaning of “postquam ad te venit,” here,--
  whether it means, “it is now the seventh month since she became
  your wife,” or, “it is now the seventh month since she came to
  your embraces,” which did not happen for two months after the
  marriage. The former is, under the circumstances, the most
  probable construction.]

  [Footnote 42: _Committed upon her_)--Ver. 401. Colman very justly
  observes here: “it is rather extraordinary that Myrrhina’s account
  of the injury done to her daughter should not put Pamphilus in
  mind of his own adventure, which comes out in the Fifth Act. It is
  certain that had the Poet let the Audience into that secret in
  this place, they would have immediately concluded that the wife of
  Pamphilus and the lady whom he had ravished were one and the same
  person.” Playwrights have never, in any age or country, troubled
  themselves much about probability in their plots. Besides, his
  adventure with Philumena was by no means an uncommon one. We find
  similar instances mentioned by Plautus; and violence and
  debauchery seem almost to have reigned paramount in the streets at

  [Footnote 43: _Thirty days or more_)--Ver. 421. In his voyage from
  Imbros to Athens, namely, which certainly appears to have been
  unusually long.]

  [Footnote 44: _To the citadel_)--Ver. 431. This was the fort or
  citadel that defended the Piræus, and being three miles distant
  from the city, was better suited for the design of Pamphilus,
  whose object it was to keep Parmeno for some time at a distance.]

  [Footnote 45: _He would rupture me_)--Ver. 435. He facetiously
  pretends to think that Pamphilus may, during a storm at sea, have
  vowed to walk him to death, if he should return home.]

  [Footnote 46: _Regardful of a parent_)--Ver. 448. Colman observes
  here: “This reflection seems to be rather improper in this place,
  for the discovery of Philumena’s labor betrayed to Pamphilus the
  real motive of her departure; after which discovery his anxiety
  proceeds entirely from the supposed injury offered him, and his
  filial piety is from that period made use of merely as a

  [Footnote 47: _He lived well_)--Ver. 461. This is living well in
  the sense used by the “Friar of orders gray.” “Who leads a good
  life is sure to live well.”]

  [Footnote 48: _Brought home nothing more_)--Ver. 462. Colman
  remarks that this passage is taken notice of by Donatus as a
  particularly happy stroke of character; and indeed the idea of a
  covetous old man gaping for a fat legacy, and having his mouth
  stopped by a moral precept, is truly comic.]

  [Footnote 49: _Pay back her portion_)--Ver. 502. As was
  universally done on a separation by agreement.]

  [Footnote 50: _At the right time_)--Ver. 531. Lemaire observes
  that, from this passage, it would appear that the Greeks
  considered seven months sufficient for gestation. So it would
  appear, if we are to take the time of the Play to be seven, and
  not nine, months after the marriage; and, as before observed, the
  former seems to be the more reasonable conclusion.]

  [Footnote 51: _A ring which_)--Ver. 574. Colman remarks that this
  preparation for the catastrophe by the mention of the ring, is not
  so artful as might have been expected from Terence; as in this
  soliloquy he tells the circumstances directly to the Audience.]

  [Footnote 52: _And festive days_)--Ver. 592. “Festos dies.” The
  days for sacrificing to particular Divinities, when she would have
  the opportunity of meeting her friends, and making herself merry
  with them.]

  [Footnote 53: _Look forward with impatience to my death_)--Ver.
  596. Colman says: “This idea of the long life of a step-mother
  being odious to her family, is applied in a very beautiful and
  uncommon manner by Shakspeare:--

    “Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
    Draws on apace; for happy days bring in
    Another morn; but oh, methinks how slow
    This old morn wanes! she lingers my desires
    Like to a step-dame, or a dowager,
    Long withering out a young man’s revenue.”

  _Midsummer Night’s Dream._]

  [Footnote 54: _The old man and the old woman_)--Ver. 621. “Senex
  atque anus.” In these words he probably refers to the commencement
  of many of the stories current in those times, which began: “There
  were once upon a time an old man and an old woman.” Indeed, almost
  the same words occur in the Stichus of Plautus, l. 540, at the
  commencement of a story: “Fuit olim, quasi ego sum, senex,” “There
  was upon a time an old man, just like me.”]

  [Footnote 55: _Still take the child_)--Ver. 638. In cases of
  separation it was customary for the father to have the care of the
  male children.]

  [Footnote 56: _But should you like_)--Ver. 725. Donatus observes
  that Phidippus utters these words with an air of disinclination to
  be present at the conference; and, indeed, the characters are well
  sustained, as it would not become him coolly to discourse with a
  courtesan, whom he supposes to have alienated Pamphilus from his
  daughter, although he might very properly advise it, as being
  likely to conduce to the peace of both families.]

  [Footnote 57: _Kept Pamphilus at a distance_)--Ver. 752. Colman
  observes, how are we to reconcile this with the words of Parmeno
  at the beginning of the Play, where he says that Pamphilus visited
  Bacchis daily; and he inquires whether we are to suppose that
  Bacchis, who behaves so candidly in every other instance, wantonly
  perjures herself in this, or that the Poet, by a strange
  infatuation attending him in this Play, contradicts himself? To
  this it may be answered, that as Bacchis appears to be so
  scrupulous in other instances, it is credible that,
  notwithstanding his visits, she may not have allowed him to share
  her embraces.]

  [Footnote 58: _Other courtesans avoid doing_)--Ver. 777. Colman
  has the following quotation from Donatus: “Terence, by his
  uncommon art, has attempted many innovations with great success.
  In this Comedy, he introduces, contrary to received prejudices,
  a good step-mother and an honest courtesan; but at the same time
  he so carefully assigns their motives of action, that by him alone
  every thing seems reconcilable to truth and nature; for this is
  just the opposite of what he mentions in another place, as the
  common privilege of all Poets, ‘to paint good matrons and wicked
  courtesans.’” Perhaps the same good feeling prompted Terence, in
  showing that a mother-in-law and a courtesan could be capable of
  acting with good and disinterested feelings, which caused
  Cumberland to write his Play of “The Jew,” to combat the popular
  prejudice against that persecuted class, by showing, in the
  character of Sheva, that a Jew might possibly be a virtuous man.]

  [Footnote 59: _Have been unjustly suspected_)--Ver. 778. The words
  here employed are also capable of meaning, if an active sense is
  given to “suspectas,” “our wives have entertained wrong
  suspicions;” but the sense above given seems preferable, as being
  the meaning of the passage.]

  [Footnote 60: _Run with all speed_)--Ver. 809. Donatus remarks,
  that Parmeno is drawn as being of a lazy and inquisitive
  character; and that Terence, therefore, humorously contrives to
  keep him always on the move, and in total ignorance of what is
  going on.]

  [Footnote 61: _Surcharged with wine_)--Ver. 824. Cooke has this
  remark here: “I suppose that this is the best excuse the Poet
  could make for the young gentleman’s being guilty of felony and
  rape at the same time. In this speech, the incident is related on
  which the catastrophe of the Play turns, which incident is a very
  barbarous one, and attended with more than one absurdity, though
  it is the occasion of an agreeable discovery.”]

  [Footnote 62: _In the Comedies_)--Ver. 867.-- Madame Dacier
  observes on this passage: “Terence here, with reason, endeavors to
  make the most of a circumstance peculiar to his Play. In other
  Comedies, every body, Actors as well as Spectators, are at last
  equally acquainted with the whole intrigue and catastrophe, and it
  would even be a defect in the plot were there any obscurity
  remaining. But Terence, like a true genius, makes himself superior
  to rules, and adds new beauties to his piece by forsaking them.
  His reasons for concealing from part of the personages of the
  Drama the principal incident of the plot, are so plausible and
  natural, that he could not have followed the beaten track without
  offending against manners and decency. This bold and uncommon turn
  is one of the chief graces of the Play.”]

  [Footnote 63: _From the shades below_)--Ver. 876. Parmeno says
  this, while pondering upon the meaning of all that is going on,
  and thereby expresses his impatience to become acquainted with it.
  He therefore repeats what Pamphilus has before said in the twelfth
  line of the present Act, about his having been restored from death
  to life by his agency.]

  [Footnote 64: _Your applause_)--Ver. 881. We may here remark, that
  the Hecyra is the only one of the Plays of Terence with a single

       *       *       *       *       *
           *       *       *       *



  DEMIPHO,[1] } Aged Athenians, brothers.
  CHREMES,[2] }
  ANTIPHO,[3] son of Demipho.
  PHÆDRIA,[4] son of Chremes.
  PHORMIO,[5] a Parasite.
  GETA,[6] servant of Demipho.
  DAVUS,[7] a servant.
  HEGIO,[8]    }
  CRATINUS,[9] } Advocates.
  CRITO,[10]   }
  DORIO,[11] a Procurer.
  NAUSISTRATA,[12] the wife of Chremes.
  SOPHRONA,[13] the nurse of Phanium.

_Scene._--Athens; before the houses of DEMIPHO, CHREMES, and DORIO.


CHREMES and DEMIPHO are two aged Athenians, brothers. Nausistrata, the
wife of Chremes, is a wealthy woman, possessed of large estates in the
island of Lemnos. Chremes, who goes thither yearly to receive the
rents, meets with a poor woman there, whom he secretly marries, and
has by her a daughter called Phanium: while engaged in this intrigue,
Chremes passes at Lemnos by the name of Stilpho. By his wife,
Nausistrata, at Athens, Chremes has a son, named Phædria, and his
brother has a son, named Antipho. Phanium having now arrived at her
fifteenth year, the two brothers privately agree that she shall be
brought to Athens and married to Antipho. For this purpose, Chremes
goes to Lemnos, while Demipho is obliged to take a journey to Cilicia.
On departing, they leave their sons in the care of Geta, one of
Demipho’s servants. Shortly afterward, Phædria falls in love with a
Music-girl, but, from want of means, is unable to purchase her from
her owner. In the mean time, the Lemnian wife of Chremes, urged by
poverty, embarks for Athens, whither she arrives with her daughter and
her nurse. Here they inquire for Stilpho, but in vain, as they can not
find any one of that name. Shortly after, the mother dies, and
Antipho, seeing Phanium by accident, falls in love with her. Being
wishful to marry her, he applies to Phormio, a Parasite, for his
advice. The latter hits upon the following scheme: there being a law
at Athens, which obliges the next-of-kin to female orphans, either to
marry them or give them a portion, the Parasite pretends that he is a
friend of Phanium, and insists that Antipho is her nearest relation,
and is consequently bound to marry her. Antipho is summoned before a
court of justice, and it being previously arranged, allows judgment to
be given against himself, and immediately marries Phanium. Shortly
after, the old men return upon the same day, and are much vexed, the
one on finding that his son has married a woman without a fortune, the
other that he has lost the opportunity of getting his daughter
advantageously married. In the mean time, Phædria being necessitated
to raise some money to purchase the Music-girl, Geta and Phormio
arrange that the former shall pretend to the old man that Phormio has
consented to take back the woman whom Antipho has married, if Demipho
will give her a portion of thirty minae. Demipho borrows the money of
Chremes, and pays it to Phormio, who hands it over to Phædria, and
Phædria to Dorio, for his mistress. At this conjuncture, it becomes
known who Phanium really is, and the old men are delighted to find
that Antipho has married the very person they wished. They attempt,
however, to get back the thirty minae from Phormio, and proceed to
threats and violence. On this, Phormio, who has accidentally learned
the intrigue of Chremes with the woman of Lemnos, exposes him, and
relates the whole story to his wife, Nausistrata; on which she
censures her husband for his bad conduct, and the Play concludes with
her thanks to Phormio for his information.


Performed at the Roman Games,[14] L. Posthumius Albinus and
L. Cornelius Merula being Curule Ædiles. L. mbivius Turpio and
L. Atilius Prænestinus performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of
Claudius, composed the music to a base and a treble flute. It is
wholly from the Greek, {being} the Epidicazomenos of Apollodorus. It
was represented four times,[15] C. Fannius and M. Valerius being



Demipho, the brother of Chremes, has gone abroad, his son Antipho
being left at Athens. Chremes has secretly a wife and a daughter at
Lemnos, another wife at Athens, and an only son, who loves a
Music-girl. The mother arrives at Athens from Lemnos, {and there}
dies. The girl, her orphan daughter, (Chemes being away,) arranges the
funeral. After Antipho has fallen in love with her when seen there,
through the aid of the Parasite he receives her as his wife. His
father and Chremes, having {now} returned, {begin} to be enraged.
Afterward they give thirty minæ to the Parasite, that he may take her
{as his own} wife. With this money the Music-girl is bought {for
Phædria}. Antipho {then} keeps his wife, who has been recognized by
his uncle.


Since the old Poet[17] can not withdraw {our} bard from his pursuits
and reduce him to indolence, he endeavors, by invectives, to deter him
from writing: for he is wont to say to this effect,-- that the Plays
which he has hitherto composed are poor in their language, and of
meagre style: because he has nowhere described a frantic youth as
seeing a hind in flight, and the hounds pursuing; while he
implores[18] {and} entreated that he would give her aid. But if he had
been aware that {his Play}, when formerly first represented, stood its
ground more through the merits of the performers than its own, he
would attack with much less boldness than he does. Now, if there is
any one who says or thinks to this effect, that if the old Poet had
not assailed him first, the young one could have devised no Prologue
for him to repeat, without having some one to abuse, let him receive
this for an answer: “that the prize is proposed in common to all who
apply to the Dramatic art.” He has aimed at driving our Poet from his
studies to {absolute} want; he {then} has intended this for an answer,
not an attack. If he had opposed him with fair words, he would have
heard himself civilly addressed; what has been given by him, let him
consider as {now} returned. I will make an end of speaking about him,
when, of his own accord, he himself makes an end of offending. Now
give your attention to what I request. I present you a new play, which
they call “Epidicazomenos,”[19] in Greek: in the Latin, he calls it
“Phormio;” because the person that acts the principal part is Phormio,
a Parasite, through whom, principally, the plot will be carried on, if
your favor attends the Poet. Lend your attention; in silence give an
ear with impartial feelings, that we may not experience a like fortune
to what we did, when, through a tumult, our Company was driven from
the place;[20] which place, the merit of the actor, and your good-will
and candor seconding it, has {since} restored unto us.



  _Enter DAVUS,[21] with a bag of money in his hand._

DAV. Geta, my very good friend and fellow-townsman, came to me
yesterday. There had been for some time a trifling balance of money of
his in my hands upon a small account; {he asked me} to make it up.
I have done so, {and} am carrying it to him. But I hear that his
master’s son has taken a wife; this, I suppose, is scraped together as
a present for her. How unfair a custom! --that those who have the
least should always be giving something to the more wealthy! That
which the poor wretch has with difficulty spared, ounce by ounce, out
of his allowance,[22] defrauding himself of every indulgence, the
whole of it will she carry off, without thinking with how much labor
it has been acquired. And then besides, Geta will be struck[23] for
another present[24] when his mistress is brought to bed; and then
again for another {present}, when the child’s birthday comes; when
they initiate him,[25] too: all this the mother will carry off; the
child will {only} be the pretext for the present. But don’t I see Geta


  _Enter GETA, from the house of DEMIPHO._

GETA (_at the door, to those within._) If any red-haired man should
inquire for me--

DAV. (_stepping forward._) Here he is, say no more.

GETA (_starting._) Oh! Why I was trying {to come} and meet you, Davus.

DAV. (_giving the money to GETA._) Here, take it; it’s {all} ready
counted out;[26] the number just amounts to the sum I owed you.

GETA. I am obliged to you; and I return you thanks for not having
forgotten me.

DAV. Especially as people’s ways are nowadays; things are come to such
a pass, if a person repays you any thing, you must be greatly obliged
to him. But why are you out of spirits?

GETA. What, I? You little know what terror and peril I am in.

DAV. What’s the matter?

GETA. You shall know, if you can only keep it secret.

DAV. Out upon you, simpleton; {the man}, whose trustworthiness you
have experienced as to money, are you afraid to intrust with words? In
what way have I any interest in deceiving you?

GETA. Well then, listen.

DAV. I give you my best attention.

GETA. Davus, do you know Chremes, the elder brother of our old

DAV. Why should I not?

GETA. Well, {and} his son Phædria?

DAV. As well as your own self.

GETA. It {so} happened to both the old gentlemen, just at the same
period, that the one had to take a journey to Lemnos, and our {old
man} to Cilicia, to see an old acquaintance; he tempted over the old
man by letters, promising {him} all but mountains of gold.

DAV. To one who had so much property, that he had more than he could

GETA. Do have done; that is his way.

DAV. Oh, {as for that}, I {really} ought to have been a man of

GETA. When departing hence, both the old gentlemen left me as a sort
of tutor to their sons.

DAV. Ah, Geta, you undertook a hard task {there}.

GETA. I came to experience it, I know that. I’m quite sure that I was
forsaken by my good Genius, who must have been angry with me.[27]
I began to oppose them at first; {but} what need of talking? As long
as I was trusty to the old men, I was paid for it in my
shoulder-blades. This, then, occurred to my mind: why, this is folly
to kick against the spur.[28] I began to do every thing for them that
they wished to be humored in.

DAV. You knew how to make your market.[29]

GETA. Our {young fellow did} no mischief whatever at first; that
Phædria at once picked up a certain damsel, a Music-girl, {and} fell
in love with her to distraction. She belonged to a most abominable
Procurer; and their fathers had taken good care that they should have
nothing to give him. There remained nothing for him then but to feed
his eyes, to follow her about, to escort her to the school,[30] and to
escort her back again. We, having nothing to do, lent our aid to
Phædria. Near the school at which she was taught, right opposite the
place, there was a certain barber’s shop: here we were generally in
the habit of waiting for her, until she was coming home again. In the
mean time, while {one day} we were sitting there, there came in a
young man in tears;[31] we were surprised at this. We inquired what
was the matter? “Never,” said he, “has poverty appeared to me a burden
so grievous and so insupportable as just now. I have just seen a
certain poor young woman in this neighborhood lamenting her dead
mother. She was laid out before her, and not a single friend,
acquaintance, or relation was there with her, except one poor old
woman, to assist her in the funeral: I pitied her. The girl herself
was of surpassing beauty.” What need of a long story? She moved us
all. At once Antipho {exclaims}, “Would you like us to go and visit
her?” The other {said}, “I think we ought-- let us go-- show us the
way, please.” We went, and arrived {there}; we saw her; the girl was
beautiful, and that you might say so the more, there was no
heightening to her beauty; her hair disheveled, her feet bare, herself
neglected, and in tears; her dress mean, so that, had there not been
an excess of beauty in her very charms, these circumstances must have
extinguished those charms. The one who had lately fallen in love with
the Music-girl said: “She is well enough;” but our {youth}--

DAV. I know it already-- fell in love with her.

GETA. Can you imagine to what an extent? Observe the consequence. The
day after, he goes straight to the old woman; entreats her to let him
have her: she, on the other hand, refuses him, and says that he is not
acting properly; that she is a citizen of Athens, virtuous, and born
of honest {parents}: that if he wishes to make her his wife, he is at
liberty to do so according to law; but if otherwise, she gives him a
refusal. Our {youth} was at a loss what to do. He was both eager to
marry her, and he dreaded his absent father.

DAV. Would not his father, if he had returned, have given him leave?

GETA. He let him marry a girl with no fortune, and of obscure birth!
He would never do {so}.

DAV. What came of it at last?

GETA. What came of it? There is one Phormio here, a Parasite, a fellow
of great assurance; may all the Gods confound him!

DAV. What has he done?

GETA. He has given this piece of advice, which I will tell you of.
“There is a law, that orphan girls are to marry those who are their
next-of-kin; and the same law commands such persons to marry them.
I’ll say you are the next-of-kin, and take out a summons[32] against
you; I’ll pretend that I am a friend of the girl’s father; we will
come before the judges: who her father was, who her mother, how she is
related to you-- all this I’ll trump up, just as will be advantageous
and suited to my purpose; on your disproving none of these things,
I shall prevail, of course. Your father will return; a quarrel will be
the consequence; what care I? She will still be ours.”

DAV. An amusing piece of assurance!

GETA. He was persuaded to this. It was carried out; they came {into
court}: we were beaten. He has married her.

DAV. What is it you tell me?

GETA. Just what you have heard.

DAV. O Geta, what will become of you?

GETA. Upon my faith, I don’t know; this one thing I do know, whatever
fortune may bring, I’ll bear it with firmness.

DAV. You please me; well, that is the duty of a man.

GETA. All my hope is in myself.

DAV. I commend you.

GETA. Suppose I have recourse to some one to intercede for me, who
will plead for me in these terms: “Pray, do forgive him this time; but
if after this {he does} any thing, I make no entreaty:” if only he
doesn’t add, “When I’ve gone, e’en kill him {for my part}.”

DAV. What of the one who was usher to the Music-girl?[33]

GETA (_shrugging his shoulders._) So so, but poorly.

DAV. Perhaps he hasn’t much to give.

GETA. Why, really, nothing at all, except mere hopes.

DAV. Is his father come back or not?

GETA. Not yet.

DAV. Well, when do you expect your old man?

GETA. I don’t know for certain; but I just now heard that a letter has
been brought from him, and has been left with the officers of the
customs: I’m going to fetch it.

DAV. Is there any thing else that you want with me, Geta?

GETA. {Nothing; but} that I wish you well. (_Exit DAVUS._) Hark you,
boy (_calling at the door_). Is nobody coming out here? (_A LAD comes
out._) Take this, and give it to Dorcium. (_He gives the purse to the
LAD, who carries it into DEMIPHO’S house and exit GETA._)


  _Enter ANTIPHO and PHÆDRIA._

ANT. That things should have come to such a pass, Phædria, that I
should be in utter dread of my father, who wishes me so well, whenever
his return comes into my thoughts! Had I not been inconsiderate,
I might have waited for him, as I ought to have done.

PHÆD. What’s the matter?

ANT. Do you ask the question? You, who have been my confederate in so
bold an adventure? How I do wish it had never entered the mind of
Phormio to persuade me to this, or to urge me in the heat of my
passion to this step, which is the source of my misfortunes. {Then} I
should not have obtained her; in that case I might have been uneasy
for some {few} days; but still, this perpetual anxiety would not have
been tormenting my mind (_touching PHÆDRIA_).

PHÆD. I hear you.

ANT. While I am every moment expecting his return, who is to sever
from me this connection.[34]

PHÆD. Other men feel uneasiness because they can not gain what they
love; you complain because you have too much. You are surfeited with
love, Antipho. Why, really, upon my faith, this situation of yours is
surely one to be coveted and desired. So may the Gods kindly bless me,
could I be at liberty to be so long in possession of the object of my
love, I could contentedly die. Do you, then, form a judgment as to the
rest, what I am now suffering from this privation, and what pleasure
you enjoy from the possession of your desires; not to mention how,
without {any} expense, you have obtained a well-born and genteel
woman, and have got a wife of unblemished reputation: happy {you},
were not this one thing wanting, a mind capable of bearing all this
with moderation. If you had to deal with that Procurer with whom I
have to deal, then you would {soon} be sensible of it. We are mostly
all of us inclined by nature to be dissatisfied with our lot.

ANT. Still, on the other hand, Phædria, you now seem to me the
fortunate man, who still have the liberty, without restraint, of
resolving on what pleases you best: {whether} to keep, to love on,
{or} to give her up. I, unfortunately, have got myself into that
position, that I have neither right[35] to give her up, nor liberty to
retain her. But how’s this? Is it our Geta I see running this way?
’Tis he himself. Alas! I’m dreadfully afraid what news it is he’s now
bringing me.


  _Enter GETA, running, at the other side of the stage._

GETA (_to himself._) Geta, you are undone, unless you instantly find
out some expedient; so suddenly do such mighty evils now threaten me
thus unprepared, which I neither know how to shun, nor how to
extricate myself therefrom; for this daring step of ours can not now
any longer be kept a secret. If such a result is not adroitly guarded
against, these matters will cause the ruin of myself, or of my master.

ANT. (_to PHÆDRIA._) Why, I wonder, is he coming in such fright?

GETA (_to himself._) Besides, I’ve but a moment left for this matter--
my master’s close at hand.

ANT. (_to PHÆDRIA._) What mischief is this?

GETA (_to himself._) When he comes to hear of it, what remedy shall I
discover for his anger? Am I to speak? I shall irritate him: be
silent? I shall provoke him: excuse myself? I should be washing a
brickbat.[36] Alas! unfortunate me! While I am trembling for myself,
this Antipho distracts my mind. I am concerned for him; I’m in dread
for him: ’tis he that now keeps me here; for had it not been for him,
I should have made due provision for my safety, and have taken
vengeance on the old man for his crabbedness; I should have scraped up
something, and straightway taken to my heels away from here.

ANT. (_to PHÆDRIA._) I wonder what running away or theft it is that
he’s planning.

GETA (_to himself._) But where shall I find Antipho, or which way go
look for him?

PHÆD. (_to ANTIPHO._) He’s mentioning your name.

ANT. (_to PHÆDRIA._) I know not what great misfortune I expect to hear
from this messenger.

PHÆD. (_to ANTIPHO._) Why, are you in your senses?

GETA (_to himself._) I’ll make my way homeward; he’s generally there.

PHÆD. (_to ANTIPHO._) Let’s call the fellow back.

ANT. (_calling out._) Stop, this instant.

GETA (_turning round._) Heyday-- with authority enough, whoever you

ANT. Geta!

GETA. The very person I wanted to find.

ANT. Pray, tell me what news you bring and dispatch it in {one} word,
if you can.

GETA. I’ll do {so}.

ANT. Out with it.

GETA. Just now, at the harbor--

ANT. What, my {father}--?

GETA. You’ve hit it.

ANT. Ruined outright!

PHÆD. Pshaw!

ANT. What am I to do?

PHÆD. (_to GETA._) What is it you say?

GETA. That I have seen his father, your uncle.

ANT. How am I, wretch that I am, now to find a remedy for this sudden
misfortune? But if it should be my fortune, Phanium, to be torn away
from you, life would cease to be desirable.

GETA. Therefore, Antipho, since matters are thus, the more need have
you to be on your guard; fortune helps the brave.

ANT. I am not myself.

GETA. But just now it is especially necessary you should be so,
Antipho; for if your father perceives that you are alarmed, he will
think that you have been guilty of some fault.

PHÆD. That’s true.

ANT. I can not change.

GETA. What would you do, if now something else still more difficult
had to be done by you?

ANT. As I am not equal to this, I should be still less so to the

GETA. This is doing nothing at all, Phædria, let’s be gone; why do we
waste our time here to no purpose. I shall be off.

PHÆD. And I too. (_They move as if going._)

ANT. Pray, now, if I assume an air, will that do? (_He endeavors to
assume another air._)

GETA. You are trifling.

ANT. Look at my countenance-- there’s for you. (_Assuming a different
air._) Will that do?


ANT. Well, will this? (_Assuming another air._)

GETA. Pretty well.

ANT. Well then, this? (_Assuming a still bolder air._)

GETA. That’s just the thing. There now, keep to that, and answer him
word for word, like for like; don’t let him, in his anger, disconcert
you with his blustering words.

ANT. I understand.

GETA. {Say} that you were forced against your will by law, by sentence
of the court; do you take me? (_Looking earnestly in one direction._)
But who is the old man that I see at the end of the street?

ANT. ’Tis he himself. I can not stand it. (_Going._)

GETA. Oh! What are you about? Whither are you going, Antipho? Stop,
I tell you.

ANT. I know my own self and my offense; to your management I trust
Phanium and my own existence. (_Exit hastily._



PHÆD. Geta, what’s to be done now?

GETA. You will just hear some harsh language: I shall be trussed up
and trounced, if I am not somewhat mistaken. But what we were just now
advising Antipho to do, the same we must do ourselves, Phædria.

PHÆD. Away with your “musts;” rather do you command me what I am to

GETA. Do you remember what were your words formerly on our entering
upon this project, with the view of protecting yourselves from ill
consequences-- that their cause was just, clear, unanswerable, {and}
most righteous?

PHÆD. I remember it.

GETA. Well then, now there’s need of that {plea}, or of one still
better and more plausible, if such there can be.

PHÆD. I’ll use my best endeavors.

GETA. Do you then accost him first; I’ll be here in reserve,[37] by
way of reinforcement, if you give ground at all.

PHÆD. Very well. (_They retire to a distance._)


  _Enter DEMIPHO, at the other side of the stage._

DEM. (_to himself._) And is it possible that Antipho has taken a wife
without my consent? and that no authority of mine-- but let alone
“authority”[38]-- no displeasure of mine, at all events, has he been
in dread of? To have no sense of shame! O audacious conduct! O Geta,
{rare} adviser!

GETA (_apart to PHÆDRIA._) Just {brought in} at last.

DEM. What will they say to me, or what excuse will they find? I wonder

GETA (_apart._) Why, I’ve found that out already; do think of
something else.

DEM. Will he be saying this to me: “I did it against my will; the law
compelled me?” I hear {you, and} admit it.

GETA (_apart._) Well said!

DEM. But knowingly, in silence, to give up the cause to his
adversaries-- did the law oblige him to do that as well?

GETA (_apart._) That is a hard {blow}.

PHÆD. I’ll clear that up; let me alone {for that}.

DEM. It is a matter of doubt what I am to do; for beyond expectation,
and quite past all belief, has this befallen me. So enraged am I, that
I can not compose my mind to think {upon it}. Wherefore it is the duty
of all persons, when affairs are the most prosperous,[39] then in
especial to reflect within themselves in what way they are to endure
adversity. Returning from abroad, let him always picture to himself
dangers and losses, either offenses committed by a son, or the death
of his wife, or the sickness of a daughter,-- that these things are
the common lot, so that no one of them may ever come as a surprise
upon his feelings. Whatever falls out beyond his hopes, all that he
must look upon as so much gain.

GETA (_apart._) O Phædria, it is incredible how much I surpass my
master in wisdom. All my misfortunes have been {already} calculated
upon by me, upon my master coming home. I must grind at the mill, be
beaten, wear fetters, be set to work in the fields; not one individual
thing of these will happen unexpected by my mind. Whatever falls out
beyond my expectations, all that I shall look upon as so much gain.
But why do you hesitate to accost him, and soften him at the outset
with fair words? (_PHÆDRIA goes forward to accost DEMIPHO._)

DEM. (_to himself._) I see Phædria, my brother’s son, coming toward

PHÆD. My uncle, welcome!

DEM. Greetings to you; but where is Antipho?

PHÆD. That you have arrived in safety----

DEM. I believe it; answer my question.

PHÆD. He is well; he’s close at hand; but is every thing quite to your

DEM. I wish it was so, indeed.

PHÆD. What’s the matter?

DEM. Do you ask me, Phædria? You {people} have cooked up a fine
marriage in my absence.

PHÆD. What now, are you angry with him for that?

GETA (_apart._) What a clever contriver!

DEM. Have I not reason to be angry with him? I long for him to come
into my sight, that he may know that through his faultiness, from
being a mild father, I am become a most severe one.

PHÆD. But he has done nothing, uncle, for which you should blame him.

DEM. Now, do look at that; all alike; all hanging together; when you
know one, you know all.

PHÆD. That is not the case.

DEM. When the one is in fault, the other is at hand to defend him;
when it is the other, {then} he is ready; they {just} help one another
by turns.

GETA (_apart._) The old man, without knowing it, has exactly described
their proceedings.

DEM. For if it had not been so, you would not, Phædria, have stood up
for him.

PHÆD. If, uncle, it is {the fact}, that Antipho has been guilty of any
fault, in consequence of which he has been too regardless of his
interest or his reputation, I would not allege any reason why he
should not suffer what he deserves. But if some one by chance, relying
upon his own artfulness, has laid a snare for our youthful age, and
has succeeded, is it our fault or {that} of the judges, who often,
through envy, take away from the rich, or, through compassion, award
to the poor?

GETA (_apart._) Unless I knew the case, I could fancy he was saying
the truth.

DEM. Is there any judge who can possibly know your rights, when you
yourself don’t answer a word-- as he has done?

PHÆD. He acted the part of an ingenuous young man; after they had come
before the judges, he was not able to say what he had intended, so
much did his modesty confuse him there through his bashfulness.

GETA (_apart._) I commend him: but why do I hesitate at once to accost
the old man? (_Going forward to DEMIPHO._) Master, welcome to you! I’m
glad to see you safe returned.

DEM. (_ironically._) Ah, excellent guardian! save you, stay of my
family, no doubt, to whom, at my departure, I intrusted my son.

GETA. For some minutes past I’ve heard you accusing all of us
undeservedly; and me the most undeservedly of them all; for what would
you have had me do for you in this affair? The laws do not allow a
person who is a slave to plead; nor is there any giving evidence[40]
{on his part}.

DEM. I grant all that: I admit this too-- the young man, unused to
courts, was bashful; I allow it: you, {too, are} a slave: still, if
she was ever so near a relative, it was not necessary {for him} to
marry her, but as the law enjoins, you might have given her a
portion;[41] she could have looked out for another husband. Why, then,
in preference, did he bring a pauper home?

GETA. No {particular} reason; but he hadn’t the money.

DEM. He might have borrowed it from some person or other.

GETA. From some person or other? Nothing more easily said.

DEM. After all, if on no other terms, on interest.

GETA. Aye, aye, fine talking; as if any one would have trusted him,
while you were living.[42]

DEM. No, it shall not be so; it must not be. Ought I to allow her to
remain with him as his wife a single day? She merits no indulgence.
I should like this fellow to be pointed out to me, or to be shown
where he lives.

GETA. Phormio, do you mean?

DEM. That fellow, the woman’s next friend?[43]

GETA. I’ll have him here immediately.

DEM. Where is Antipho at present?

GETA. Away from home.

DEM. Go, Phædria, look for him, and bring him here.

PHÆD. I’ll go straightway to the place.

GETA (_aside._) To Pamphila, you mean.

  (_Exeunt PHÆDRIA and GETA._


  _DEMIPHO, alone._

DEM. (_to himself._) I’ll just step home to salute the household
Gods.[44] From there, I’ll go to the Forum, and summon some of my
friends to give me their assistance in this affair; so that I may not
be unprepared, when Phormio comes. (_Goes into his house._)



  _Enter PHORMIO and GETA._

PHOR. And so you say[45] that, dreading his father’s presence, he has
taken himself off?

GETA. Exactly so.

PHOR. That Phanium is left alone?

GETA. Just so.

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

GETA. Extremely so.

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

GETA. I entreat you----

PHOR. (_to himself._) If he inquires.

GETA. In you is {all} our hope.

PHOR. (_to himself._) Look at this, now:-- What if he sends her back?

GETA. It was you that urged us.

PHOR. (_to himself._) I think that will do.

GETA. Do help us.

PHOR. (_with alacrity._) Let the old gentleman come; all my plans are
now ready prepared in my mind.

GETA. What will you do?

PHOR. What would you have me? But that Phanium may continue {with
him}, and that I may clear Antipho from this charge, and turn upon
myself[47] all the wrath of the old gentleman?

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

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

GETA. How {is} that?

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

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

PHOR. Why no; no person can return thanks sufficient to his patron[50]
for his kindness. For you to take your place {at table} at free
cost,[51] anointed and just washed at the bath, with your mind at
ease, whereas he is devoured with the care and expense: while every
thing is being done to give you delight, he is being vexed at heart;
you are laughing away, first to drink,[52] take the higher place;
a banquet full of doubts[53] is placed before you--

GETA. What is the meaning of that expression?

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

GETA. The old man is coming; take care what you are about; the first
onset is the fiercest; if you stand that, then, afterward, you may
play just as you please. (_They retire to a distance._)


  _Enter, at a distance, DEMIPHO, HEGIO, CRATINUS, and CRITO,
  following him._

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

GETA (_apart._) He’s in a passion.

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

GETA. He does deny it.

DEM. (_to his friends._) I believe it is the very man I was speaking
about. Follow me. (_They all come forward._)

PHOR. (_to GETA._) And that he knows who her father was?

GETA. He does deny it.

PHOR. And that he knows who Stilpho was?

GETA. He does deny it.

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

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

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

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

GETA (_in a loud voice._) Look to yourself as well as to him, how you

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

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

PHOR. Why, it’s {just} what he deserves.

GETA (_aloud._) Say you so, you jail-bird?

DEM. (_calling aloud._) Geta!

GETA (_aloud._) A plunderer of people’s property-- a perverter of the

DEM. (_calling aloud._) Geta!

PHOR. (_apart, in a low voice._) Answer him.

GETA. Who is it? (_Looking round._) Oh!----

DEM. Hold your peace.

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

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

PHOR. (_sneeringly._) You are fishing it out, just as if you didn’t

DEM. I, know?

PHOR. Yes.

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

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

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

PHOR. His name?

DEM. Of course. (_PHORMIO hesitates._) Why are you silent now?

PHOR. (_aside._) Heavens, I’m undone; I’ve forgot the name.

DEM. Well, what do you say?

PHOR. (_aside, to GETA._) Geta, if you recollect the {name} I told you
a short time since, prompt me. (_Aloud, to DEMIPHO._) Well then,
I sha’n’t tell you; as if you didn’t know, you come to pump me.

DEM. I, come to pump you, indeed?

GETA. (_whispering to PHORMIO._) Stilpho.

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

DEM. Whom did you say?

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

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

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

DEM. May the Gods confound you!

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

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

GETA. Well done, my {master}, that’s right! (_Threateningly to
PHORMIO._) Hark you, take you care.

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

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

PHOR. Then do you, who are so wise, go to the magistrates, that for
you they may give a second decision in the same cause, since you reign
alone[54] {here}, and are the only man allowed to get a second trial
in the same cause.

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

PHOR. (_laughing._) Ha, ha, ha! a pleasant individual!

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

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

DEM. Yes, to her nearest relative, indeed; but why to us, or on what

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

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

PHOR. You are trifling.

DEM. Only let me alone {for that}.

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

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

GETA (_aside._) He’s in a passion.

PHOR. You’ll be acting more considerately.

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

PHOR. (_aside, to GETA._) He’s afraid of us, although he’s so careful
to conceal it.

GETA (_aside, to PHORMIO._) Your beginning has turned out well.

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

DEM. (_indignantly._) What, I seek your friendship, or have any wish
to see or hear you?

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

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

PHOR. Really, do moderate your passion.

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

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

GETA (_apart._) I understand you. (_Exit PHORMIO._



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

GETA. I will. (_Goes into the house._)

DEM. (_to the ASSISTANTS._) You see how the case stands. What am I to
do? Tell {me}, Hegio.

HEG. What, I? I think Cratinus {ought}, if it seems good to you.

DEM. Tell {me}, Cratinus.

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

DEM. Say now, Hegio.

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

DEM. Speak, Crito.

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

HEG. Do you want any thing further with us?

DEM. You have done very well. (_Exeunt ASSISTANTS._) I am much more at
a loss[57] than before.

  _Re-enter GETA, from the house._

GETA. They say that he has not come back.

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

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


  _Enter ANTIPHO, at a distance._

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

GETA (_coming forward._) Why really, master, we have for some time
been censuring you here in your absence, for having {thus} gone away.

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

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

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

GETA. Not any at present.

ANT. Is there still any hope?

GETA. I don’t know.

ANT. Alas!

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

ANT. He did nothing new.

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

ANT. What did he do?

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

ANT. Well done, Phormio!

GETA. I, too, {did} all I could.

ANT. My {dear} Geta, I love you all.

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

ANT. Why him?

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

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

GETA. Here comes Phædria.

ANT. Where is he, pray?

GETA. See, he’s coming from his place of exercise.[58]


  _Enter from DORIO’S house, DORIO, followed by PHÆDRIA._

PHÆD. Prithee, hear me, Dorio.

DOR. I’ll not hear you.

PHÆD. Only a moment.

DOR. Let me alone.

PHÆD. Do hear what I have to say.

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

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

DOR. Speak {then}; I’m listening.

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

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

ANT. (_apart, to GETA._) I’m afraid for this Procurer, lest----

GETA (_apart, to ANTIPHO._) Something may befall his own safety.[59]

PHÆD. You don’t believe me?

DOR. You guess right.

PHÆD. But if I pledge my word.

DOR. Nonsense!

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

DOR. Stuff!

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

DOR. {Mere} dreams!

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

DOR. The same story over again.

PHÆD. You {will be} my kinsman, my father, my friend; you----

DOR. Now, do prate on.

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

DOR. For you to be of a disposition so unreasonable and so
unconscionable, Phædria, that you can be talking me over with fine
words,[60] and be for amusing yourself with what’s my property for

ANT. (_apart, to GETA._) I am sorry for him.

PHÆD. (_aside._) Alas! I feel it to be too true.

GETA (_apart, to ANTIPHO._) How well each keeps up to his character!

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

ANT. (_coming forward._) Ah Phædria, why, what is the matter?

PHÆD. O most fortunate Antipho!

ANT. What, I?

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

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

DOR. That’s just my case with regard to him (_pointing to PHÆDRIA_).

ANT. (_to DORIO._) Aye, aye, don’t you show too little of the
Procurer. (_To PHÆDRIA._) What has he been doing?

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

GETA. What! Sold her?

ANT. Sold her, say you?

PHÆD. Sold her.

DOR. (_ironically._) What a shocking crime-- a wench bought with one’s
own money!

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

DOR. Very good.

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

DOR. {Mere} words!

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

DOR. Neither I nor you {cause that}.

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

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

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

PHÆD. {It} is the fact.

DOR. Do I deny it?

ANT. Is that {day} past, then?

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

ANT. Are you not ashamed of your perfidy?

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

GETA. Dunghill!

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

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

ANT. Do you try to trifle with him (_pointing to PHÆDRIA_) in this

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



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

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

GETA. For my part, I’m sure it is {but} fair.

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

GETA. What can I do?

ANT. Procure the money.

GETA. I wish I could; but where {it is to come} from-- tell me that.

ANT. My father has come home.

GETA. I know; but what of that?

ANT. Oh, a word to the wise[62] is quite enough.

GETA. Is that it, then?

ANT. Just so.

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

ANT. ’Tis true what he says.

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

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

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

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

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

GETA. May the Gods prosper your design! Cautiously’s {the word},

ANT. (_to GETA._) Do see if you can give him any assistance at all.

GETA. Any at all-- how?

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

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

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

GETA. (_to PHÆDRIA._) How much money do you want? Tell me.

PHÆD. Only thirty minæ.

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

PHÆD. Indeed, she’s very cheap.

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

PHÆD. Oh the dear man! (_They both fall to hugging GETA._)

GETA. Take yourselves off. (_Shakes them off._)

PHÆD. There’s need for them directly.

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

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

GETA. Let’s go to him at once then.

ANT. Will you have any occasion for my assistance?

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

ANT. There’s nothing I could do with so much pleasure. (_Goes into the
house of DEMIPHO._)

PHÆD. What way will you manage this?

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



  _Enter DEMIPHO and CHREMES._

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


DEM. Why not?

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

DEM. Pray, then, why did you stay there so long, when you had heard of

CHREM. Why, faith, a malady detained me.

DEM. From what cause? Or what {was it}?

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

DEM. Have you heard, Chremes, what has happened to my son in my

CHREM. ’Tis that, in fact, that has embarrassed me in my plans. For if
I offer my daughter in marriage to any person that’s a stranger, it
must all be told how and by whom I had her. You I knew to be fully as
faithful to me as I am to myself; if a stranger shall think fit to be
connected with me by marriage, he will hold his tongue, just as long
as good terms exist between us: but if he takes a dislike to me, he’ll
be knowing more than it’s proper he should know. I am afraid, too,
lest my wife should, by some means, come to know of it; if that is the
case, it {only} remains for me to shake myself[63] and leave the
house; for I’m the only one I can rely on at home.[64]

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


  _Enter GETA, on the other side of the stage, not seeing DEMIPHO or

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


  _Enter ANTIPHO from the house, behind at a distance._

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

GETA. (_to himself._) I’ll accost them. (_Goes up to them._) O welcome
to you, our {neighbor} Chremes.

CHREM. Save you, Geta.

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

CHREM. I believe you.

GETA. How go matters?

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

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


GETA. (_to DEMIPHO._) What, have you told him? Disgraceful conduct,
Chremes, thus to be imposed on.

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

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

DEM. What {is} the remedy?

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

CHREM. Who {is} Phormio?

GETA. He who {patronized} her.

CHREM. I understand.

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

ANT. (_apart._) What is he about? Or where is this to end at last?

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

ANT. (_apart._) Are the Gods quite on good terms with him?[65]

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

DEM. Who ordered you to say so?

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

ANT. (_apart._) Undone!

CHREM. Go on with your story.

GETA. At first the fellow raved.

DEM. Say, what did he ask?

GETA. What? A great deal too much.

CHREM. How much? Tell me.

GETA. Suppose he were to give a great talent.

DEM. Aye, faith, perdition {to him rather}; has he no shame?

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

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

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

GETA. His land is mortgaged,-- for ten minæ he said.

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

GETA. He has a house besides, {mortgaged} for another ten.

DEM. Huy, huy! that’s too much.

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

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

DEM. Then let him at once bring six hundred actions[67] against me;
I shall give nothing at all; is this dirty fellow to be laughing at me
as well?

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

ANT. (_apart._) Ah me! Geta, you have ruined me by your treachery.

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

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

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

DEM. Yes, {and} little joy to him of the bargain!

CHREM. Luckily, too, I’ve now brought {home} some money with me, the
rents which my wife’s farms at Lemnos produce. I’ll take it out of
that, {and} tell my wife that you had occasion for it. (_They go into
the house of CHREMES._)



ANT. (_coming forward._) Geta.

GETA. Well.

ANT. What have you been doing?

GETA. Diddling the old fellows out of their money.

ANT. Is that quite the thing?

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

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

GETA. What was it then that you did ask?

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

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

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

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

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

GETA. Do you ask the question? “How many circumstances, since then,
have befallen me as prodigies? A strange black dog[68] entered the
house; a snake came down from the tiles through the sky-light;[69]
a hen crowed;[70] the soothsayer forbade it; the diviner[71] warned me
not: besides, before winter there is no sufficient reason for me to
commence upon any new undertaking.” This will be the case.

ANT. I only wish it may be the case.

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


  _Enter DEMIPHO and CHREMES, from the house of the latter, the former
  with a purse of money._

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

GETA. (_apart._) How cautious he is, when there’s no need for it!

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

GETA. You’ve hit upon the very thing.

DEM. Lead me to him then.

GETA. I won’t delay.

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

DEM. What the plague does that matter to you?

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

DEM. I can do {all} that myself.

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

DEM. I’ll ask her. (_Goes into the house of CHREMES; and exit GETA._)

CHREM. (_to himself._) I’m thinking where I can find them now.[72]


  _Enter SOPHRONA from the house of DEMIPHO, at a distance._

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

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

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

CHREM. (_apart, to himself._) Upon my faith, surely, unless my
recollection deceives me, or my sight’s not very good, I espy my
daughter’s nurse.[73]

SOPH. (_to herself._) And we are not able to find----

CHREM. (_apart._) What must I do?

SOPH. (_to herself._) Her father.

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

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

CHREM. (_apart, to himself, aloud._) ’Tis the very woman. I’ll address

SOPH. (_turning round._) Who’s that speaking here?

CHREM. (_coming forward._) Sophrona.

SOPH. Mentioning my name, too?

CHREM. Look round at me.

SOPH. (_seeing him._) Ye Gods, I do beseech you, isn’t this Stilpho?


SOPH. Do you deny it?

CHREM. (_in a low voice._) Step a little this way from that door,
Sophrona, if you please (_pointing_). Don’t you, henceforth, be
calling me by that name.

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

CHREM. Hush! (_pointing to his own house._)

SOPH. Why are you afraid about that door?

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

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

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

SOPH. Ah, wretched me!

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

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

CHREM. An unfortunate thing!

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

CHREM. What! to Antipho?

SOPH. The very same, I say.

CHREM. What? {Has} he {got} two wives?

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

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

SOPH. Why, this is she.

CHREM. What is it you say?

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

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

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

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

SOPH. No one shall know {it} from me.

CHREM. Follow me; in-doors we’ll hear the rest. (_He goes into
DEMIPHO’S house, followed by SOPHRONA._)



  _Enter DEMIPHO and GETA._

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

GETA. Most clearly so.

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

GETA. Most undoubtedly.

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

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

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

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

DEM. How! change it indeed?

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

DEM. I’ll do as my brother advised me, bring hither his wife, to talk
with her. Do you, Geta, go before; tell her that Nausistrata is about
to visit her. (_DEMIPHO goes into the house of CHREMES._)


  _GETA, alone._

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


  _Enter DEMIPHO and NAUSISTRATA, from the house of CHREMES._

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

NAUS. I will.

DEM. You are now seconding me with your endeavors, just as you
assisted me with your money[78] before.

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

DEM. Why so?

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

DEM. Two {talents}, pray?

NAUS. {Aye}, and when things were much worse, two talents even.

DEM. Whew!

NAUS. What! does this seem surprising?

DEM. Of course it does.

NAUS. I wish I had been born a man; I’d have shown----

DEM. That I’m quite sure of.

NAUS. In what way----

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

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


  _Enter CHREMES, hastily, from DEMIPHO’S house._

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

DEM. I took care immediately.

CHREM. I wish it hadn’t been paid him. (_On seeing NAUSISTRATA,
aside._) Halloo, I espy my wife; I had almost said more than I ought.

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

CHREM. It’s all right.

DEM. What {say} you? Have you been letting her know why we are going
to bring her? (_pointing to NAUSISTRATA._)

CHREM. I’ve arranged it.

DEM. Pray, what does she say?

CHREM. She can’t be got to leave.

DEM. Why can’t she?

CHREM. Because they are fond of one another.

DEM. What’s that to us?

CHREM. (_apart, to DEMIPHO._) A great deal; besides that, I’ve found
out that she is related to us.

DEM. (_apart._) What! You are mad, {surely}.

CHREM. (_apart._) So you will find; I don’t speak at random; I’ve
recovered my recollection.

DEM. (_apart._) Are you quite in your senses?

CHREM. (_apart._) Nay, prithee, do take care not to injure your

DEM. (_apart._) She is not.

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

DEM. (_apart._) Did she not know who was her father?

CHREM. (_apart._) She did.

DEM. (_apart._) Why did she call him by another {name}?

CHREM. (_apart, frowning._) Will you never yield to me, nor understand
{what I mean}?

DEM. (_apart._) If you don’t tell me of any thing----

CHREM. (_impatiently._) Do you persist?

NAUS. I wonder what {all} this can be.

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

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

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

CHREM. (_stopping him._) Ah!

DEM. What’s the matter?

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

DEM. Do you wish me to believe you? Do you wish me to consider this as
quite certain? Very well, be it so. Well, what’s to be done with our
friend’s[79] daughter?

CHREM. She’ll do well enough.

DEM. Are we to drop her, then?

CHREM. Why not?

DEM. The other one to stop?

CHREM. Just so.

DEM. You may go then, Nausistrata.

NAUS. I’ faith, I think it better for all that she should remain here
as it is, than as you {first} intended; for she seemed to me a very
genteel person when I saw her. (_Goes into her house._)



DEM. What is the meaning of all this?

CHREM. (_looking at the door of his house._) Has she shut the door

DEM. Now {she has}.

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

DEM. Ha! How can that possibly be?

CHREM. This spot is not exactly suited for me to tell it {you}.

DEM. Well then, step in-doors.

CHREM. Hark you, I don’t wish our sons even to come to know of this.
(_They go into DEMIPHO’S house._)


  _Enter ANTIPHO._

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


  _Enter PHORMIO, at a distance._

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

ANT. But {here’s} Phormio. (_Going up to him._) What have you to say?

PHOR. About what?

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

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

ANT. What {part}?

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

ANT. See who’s coming out.

PHOR. It’s Geta.


  _Enter GETA, at a distance, hastily, from the house of DEMIPHO._

GETA. (_to himself._) O fortune! O good luck![80] with blessings how
great, how suddenly hast thou loaded this day with thy favors to my
master Antipho!--

ANT. (_apart to PHORMIO._) I wonder what it is he means.

GETA. (_continuing._) And relieved us, his friends, from alarm; but
I’m now delaying, in not throwing my cloak[81] over my shoulder
(_throws it over his shoulder_), and making haste to find him, that he
may know what has happened.

ANT. (_apart to PHORMIO._) Do you understand what he’s talking about?

PHOR. (_apart to ANTIPHO._) Do you?

ANT. (_apart to PHORMIO._) Not at all.

PHOR. (_apart to ANTIPHO._) And I just as much.

GETA. (_to himself._) I’ll be off hence to the Procurer’s; they are
there just now. (_Runs along._)

ANT. (_calling out._) Halloo! Geta!

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

ANT. Geta!

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

ANT. (_running after him._) Won’t you stop?

GETA. You’ll be getting a beating.

ANT. Assuredly that will befall yourself just now unless you stop, you

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

ANT. What’s the matter?

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

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

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

ANT. You are worrying me to death.

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

GETA. (_looking round._) Oh, are you here too, Phormio?

PHOR. I am: but {why} do you delay?

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

ANT. What for?

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

ANT. Well done, Geta.

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

ANT. What {was it}?

GETA. (_laughing._) What do you think?

ANT. I don’t know.

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

ANT. (_starting._) Ha! what’s that you say?

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

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

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

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

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

ANT. Why then carry me off[82] {at once};-- why do you delay?

GETA. I’ll do so.

ANT. O my {dear} Phormio, farewell!

PHOR. Farewell, Antipho. (_ANTIPHO and GETA go into DEMIPHO’S house._)


  _PHORMIO, alone._

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



  _Enter DEMIPHO and CHREMES, from DEMIPHO’S house._

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

  _Enter PHORMIO, coming forward, and speaking aloud, as though not
  seeing them._

PHOR. I’ll go see if Demipho’s at home; that as to what[83]--

DEM. (_accosting him._) Why, Phormio, we were coming to you.

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

CHREM. (_to DEMIPHO._) Is she not genteel-looking,[84] just as I told

DEM. Very much so.

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

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

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

DEM. How so?

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

CHREM. Then besides, I see that Antipho is unwilling to part with her.
(_Aside, prompting DEMIPHO._) Say so.

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

PHOR. What, when I’ve paid it over to the persons to whom I was

DEM. What’s to be done, then?

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

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

PHOR. You are provoking me.

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

PHOR. Try the experiment.

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

PHOR. Pray, what is that you say?

DEM. Then do you give me my money?

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

DEM. Come before a magistrate. (_Going to seize hold of him._)

PHOR. Why, really, if you persist in being troublesome----

DEM. What will you do?

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

CHREM. What’s that to us?

PHOR. (_with a careless air._) Nothing at all. I know a certain lady
here (_pointing at CHREMES’S house_) whose husband had----

CHREM. (_starting._) Ha!

DEM. What’s the matter?

PHOR. Another {wife} at Lemnos--

CHREM. (_aside._) I’m ruined!

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

CHREM. (_aside._) I’m {dead and} buried!

PHOR. This I shall assuredly now inform her of. (_Walks toward the

CHREM. (_running and catching hold of him._) I beg of you, don’t do

PHOR. (_with a careless air._) Oh, were you the person?

DEM. What a jest he’s making {of us}.

CHREM. (_to PHORMIO._) We’ll let you off.

PHOR. Nonsense.

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

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

CHREM. (_aside, to DEMIPHO._) In what manner, or from whom has he come
to know of this?

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

CHREM. (_aside._) So may the Gods bless me, ’tis as good as a miracle.

PHOR. (_aside, to himself._) I’ve graveled them.

DEM. (_apart, to CHREMES._) Well now, is he to be carrying off[87]
from us such a sum of money as this, and so palpably to impose upon
us? By heavens, I’d sooner die. Manage to show yourself of resolute
and ready wit. You see that this slip of yours has got abroad, and
that you can not now possibly conceal it from your wife; it is then
more conducive to our quiet, Chremes, ourselves to disclose what she
will be hearing from others; {and} then, in our own fashion, we shall
be able to take vengeance upon this dirty fellow.

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

CHREM. (_apart, to DEMIPHO._) But I doubt whether it’s possible for
her to be appeased.

DEM. (_apart, to CHREMES._) Be of good courage; I’ll effect a
reconciliation between you; remembering this, Chremes, that she is
dead[88] and gone by whom you had this girl.

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

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

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

DEM. I know; let’s go into court.

PHOR. Into court? Here {in preference} (_pointing to CHREMES’S
house_), if it suits you in any way. (_Moves toward the house._)

DEM. (_to CHREMES._) Follow him, and hold him back, till I call out
the servants.

CHREM. (_trying to seize PHORMIO._) But I can’t by myself; run {and
help me}.

PHOR. (_to DEMIPHO, who seizes hold of him._) There’s one action of
damages against you.

CHREM. Sue him at law, then.

PHOR. {And} another with you, Chremes.

DEM. Lay hold of him. (_They both drag him._)

PHOR. Is it thus you do? Why then I must exert my voice: Nausistrata,
come out (_calling aloud_).

CHREM. (_to DEMIPHO._) Stop his mouth.

DEM. See how strong the rascal is.

PHOR. (_calling aloud._) Nausistrata, I say.

CHREM. Will you not hold your tongue?

PHOR. Hold my tongue?

DEM. (_to CHREMES, as they drag him along._) If he won’t follow, plant
your fists in his stomach.

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


  _Enter NAUSISTRATA, in haste, from the house._

NAUS. Who calls my name?

CHREM. (_in alarm._) Ha!

NAUS. My husband, pray what means this disturbance?

PHOR. (_to CHREMES._) Oh, oh, why are you mute now?

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

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

CHREM. (_to NAUSISTRATA._) Take care how you believe that fellow in
any thing.

PHOR. (_to NAUSISTRATA._) Go, touch him; if he isn’t in a cold sweat
all over, why then kill me.

CHREM. ’Tis nothing at all.

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

PHOR. You shall know directly; listen {now}.

CHREM. Are you resolved to believe him?

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

PHOR. The poor creature is distracted from fright.

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

CHREM. What, I in a fright?

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

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

PHOR. (_to DEMIPHO._) Come now, you’ve managed nicely for your

NAUS. My husband, will you not tell me?

CHREM. But--

NAUS. But what?

CHREM. There’s no need to tell you.

PHOR. {Not} for you, indeed; but there’s need for her to know it. At

CHREM. (_starting._) Ha! what are you doing?

DEM. (_to PHORMIO._) Won’t you hold your tongue?

PHOR. (_to NAUSISTRATA._) Unknown to you----

CHREM. Ah me!

PHOR. He married another----

NAUS. My {dear} sir, may the Gods forbid it!

PHOR. Such is the fact.

NAUS. Wretch that I am, I’m undone!

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

CHREM. What are we to do?

NAUS. O immortal Gods! --a disgraceful and a wicked misdeed!

DEM. (_aside, to CHREMES._) It’s all up {with} you.

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

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

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

PHOR. (_apart._) He is talking to the dead.

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

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

PHOR. (_in a loud voice._) Those who have[89] a mind to come to the
funeral of Chremes, why now’s their time. ’Tis thus I retaliate: come
now, let him challenge Phormio who pleases: I’ll have him
victimized[90] with just a like mischance. Why then, let him return
again into her good graces. I have now had revenge enough. She has got
something for her as long as she lives, to be forever ringing into his

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

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

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

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

PHOR. (_aside._) But really, before she grants pardon to him, I must
take care of myself and Phædria. (_To NAUSISTRATA._) Hark you,
Nausistrata, before you answer him without thinking, listen {to me}.

NAUS. What’s the matter?

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

CHREM. Ha! what is it you say?

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

DEM. He shall do as you wish.

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

DEM. You are a wise woman, Nausistrata.

NAUS. Does that satisfy you, Chremes?

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

NAUS. (_to PHORMIO._) Do you tell me, what is your name?

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

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

PHOR. You speak obligingly.

NAUS. I’ faith, it is as you deserve.

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

NAUS. With all my heart.

PHOR. Invite me to dinner.

NAUS. Assuredly indeed, I do invite you.

DEM. Let us now away in-doors.

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

PHOR. I’ll have him here just now. (_To the AUDIENCE._) Fare you well,
and grant us your applause.[91]


(_Which is generally considered to be spurious._)

  _Enter PHÆDRIA and PHORMIO, from opposite sides of the stage._

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

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

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

PHOR. Pray, tell me what is the matter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

PHÆD. Do you know Phanocrates?

PHOR. As well as {I do} yourself.

PHÆD. The rich man?

PHOR. I understand.

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

PHOR. How, then, were they discovered?

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

PHOR. O, how extremely fortunate!

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

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

PHÆD. You are joking.

PHOR. So it is, I tell you. Do you only {give me} the thirty minæ
which Dorio--

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

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

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

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

PHÆD. Very well; follow me. (_To the AUDIENCE._) Fare you well, and
grant us your applause.


  [Footnote 1: From δημὸς, “the people,” and φῶς “light”.]

  [Footnote 2: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

  [Footnote 3: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]

  [Footnote 4: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]

  [Footnote 5: From φορμὸς, “an osier basket.”]

  [Footnote 6: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Adelphi.]

  [Footnote 7: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

  [Footnote 8: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Adelphi.]

  [Footnote 9: From κρατὸς, “strength.”]

  [Footnote 10: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.]

  [Footnote 11: From Doris, his country, a part of Caria.]

  [Footnote 12: From ναῦς, “a ship,” and στρατὸς, “an army.”]

  [Footnote 13: See the Dramatis Personæ of the Eunuchus.]

  [Footnote 14: _The Roman Games_)--The “ludi Romani,” or “Roman
  Games,” were first established by Ancus Marcius, and were
  celebrated in the month of September.]

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

  [Footnote 16: _Being Consuls_)--M. Valerius Messala and C. Fannius
  Strabo were Consuls in the year from the Building of the City 591,
  and B.C. 162.]

  [Footnote 17: _Since the old Poet_)--Ver. 1. He alludes to his old
  enemy, Luscus Lavinius, who is mentioned in all his Prologues,
  except those to the Hecyra.]

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

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

  [Footnote 20: _Was driven from the place_)--Ver. 32. Alluding,
  probably, to the disturbances which took place at the first
  representation of the Hecyra, and which are mentioned in the
  Prologues to that Play.]

  [Footnote 21: _Davus_)--Davus is a protatic character, only
  introduced for the purpose of opening the story.]

  [Footnote 22: _Out of his allowance_)--Ver. 43. Donatus tells us
  that the slaves received four “modii,” or measures of corn, each
  month, which was called their “demensum.”]

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

  [Footnote 24: _For another present_)--Ver. 48. Presents were
  usually made to persons on their birthday, on the day of their
  marriage, and on the birth of their children.]

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

  [Footnote 26: _Ready counted out_)--Ver. 53. “Lectum,” literally
  “picked out” or “chosen”-- the coins being of full weight.]

  [Footnote 27: _Have been angry with me_)--Ver. 74. He alludes to
  the common belief that each person had a Genius or Guardian Deity;
  and that when misfortune overtook him, he had been abandoned by
  his Genius.]

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

  [Footnote 29: _To make your market_)--Ver. 79. This is a
  metaphorical expression taken from traffic, in which merchants
  suit themselves to the times, and fix a price on their
  commodities, according to the course of the market.]

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

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

  [Footnote 32: _Take out a summons_)--Ver. 127. “Dica” was the writ
  or summons with which an action at law was commenced.]

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

  [Footnote 34: _Sever from me this connection_)--Ver. 161. By
  forcing him to divorce her.]

  [Footnote 35: _Neither right_)--Ver. 176. No right to get rid of
  her in consequence of the judgment which, at the suit of Phormio,
  has been pronounced against him; nor yet, right to keep her,
  because of his father insisting upon turning her out of doors.]

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

  [Footnote 37: _Here in reserve_)--Ver. 230. “Succenturiatus.” The
  “succenturiati” were, properly, men intrusted to fill up vacancies
  in the centuries or companies, when thinned by battle.]

  [Footnote 38: _Let alone “authority”_)--Ver. 232. “Ac mitto
  imperium.” Cicero has quoted this passage in his Epistles to
  Atticus, B. ii. Ep. 19.]

  [Footnote 39: _When affairs are the most prosperous_)--Ver. 241.
  Cicero quotes this passage in the Third Book of his Tusculan
  Questions, and the maxim here inculcated was a favorite one with
  the Stoic philosophers.]

  [Footnote 40: _Any giving evidence_)--Ver. 293. Slaves were
  neither allowed to plead for themselves, nor to give evidence. See
  the Curculio of Plautus, l. 621, and the Notes to the Andria.]

  [Footnote 41: _Given her a portion_)--Ver. 297. By this remark,
  Donatus observes that Terence artfully prepares us for the
  imposition of Phormio, who extorts money from the old gentleman on
  this very ground.]

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

  [Footnote 43: _The woman’s next friend_)--Ver. 307. The “patronus”
  was the person who undertook to conduct a lawsuit for another.]

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

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

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

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

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

  [Footnote 49: _They will take you_)--Ver. 334. At Rome, insolvent
  debtors became the slaves of their creditors till their debts were

  [Footnote 50: _To his patron_)--Ver. 338. “Regi.” The Parasites
  were in the habit of calling their patron “Rex,” their “King.”]

  [Footnote 51: _At free cost_)--Ver. 339. “Asymbolum.” Without
  having paid his “symbola,” or “club,” for the entertainment.
  Donatus informs us that the whole of this passage is borrowed from
  one of Ennius, which is still preserved.]

  [Footnote 52: _First to drink_)--Ver. 342. To be the first to
  drink, and to take the higher place on the couch when eating, was
  the privilege of the most honored guests, who usually bathed, and
  were then anointed before the repast.]

  [Footnote 53: _Banquet full of doubts_)--Ver. 342. “Coena dubia.”
  Horace, who borrows many of his phrases from Terence, uses the
  same expression.]

  [Footnote 54: _Since you reign alone_)--Ver. 605. This is a remark
  well put into the mouth of an Athenian, as the public were very
  jealous of any person becoming paramount to the laws, and to
  prevent it, were frequently guilty of the most odious oppression.]

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

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

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

  [Footnote 58: _From his place of exercise_)--Ver. 484. “Palæstra.”
  He alludes to the Procurer’s house under this name.]

  [Footnote 59: _Befall his own safety_)--Ver. 490. Overhearing
  Phædria earnest and determined, and the Procurer obstinate and
  inflexible, Antipho and Geta join in apprehending that the
  brutality of the latter may provoke Phædria to some act of

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

  [Footnote 61: _A wolf by the ears_)--Ver. 505. A proverbial
  expression which, according to Suetonius, was frequently in the
  mouth of Tiberius Cæsar.]

  [Footnote 62: _A word to the wise_)--Ver. 540. “Dictum sapienti
  sat est.” The same proverb is found in the Persa of Plautus,
  l. 736.]

  [Footnote 63: _To shake myself_)--Ver. 585. “Me excutiam.” In
  reference to the custom of the Greeks, and the Eastern nations, of
  shaking their clothes at the door of any house which they were
  going to leave.]

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

  [Footnote 65: _Good terms with him_)--Ver. 635. Meaning, “Is he in
  his senses or not?”]

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

  [Footnote 67: _Six hundred actions_)--Ver. 667. “Sescentos;”
  literally, “six hundred.” The Romans used this term as we do the
  words “ten thousand,” to signify a large, but indefinite number.]

  [Footnote 68: _A strange black dog_)--Ver. 705. This omen, Plautus
  calls, in the Casina, l. 937, “canina scæva.”]

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

  [Footnote 70: _A hen crowed_)--Ver. 707. Donatus tells us that it
  was a saying, that in the house where a hen crowed, the wife had
  the upper hand.]

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

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

  [Footnote 73: _My daughter’s nurse_)--Ver. 735. Among the
  ancients, it was the custom for nurses who had brought up children
  to remain with them in after-life.]

  [Footnote 74: _Where are the ladies?_)--Ver. 748. “Ubi illæ?”
  literally, “Where are these women?”]

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

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

  [Footnote 77: _Or his talking_)--Ver. 782. “Ejus” here alludes,
  not to Nausistrata but to Phormio. Madame Dacier suggests that it
  should be “hujus.”]

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

  [Footnote 79: _Our friend’s_)--Ver. 811. Chremes himself is so
  called, to deceive Nausistrata.]

  [Footnote 80: _O good luck_)--Ver. 840. “Fors fortuna,” “good
  fortune;” while “fortuna” merely means “chance.”]

  [Footnote 81: _Throwing my cloak_)--Ver. 843. When expedition was
  required, it was usual to throw the ends of the “pallium,” or
  “cloak,” over the shoulders.]

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

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

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

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

  [Footnote 86: _For the well portioned_)--Ver. 939. Though Colman
  thinks otherwise, it is pretty clear that he alludes to
  Nausistrata in these words.]

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

  [Footnote 88: _Dead and gone_)--Ver. 965. “E medio excedere,” was
  an Euphemism signifying “to die,” which it was deemed of ill omen
  to mention.]

  [Footnote 89: _Those who have_)--Ver. 1025. He here uses the terms
  which it was customary to employ in the celebration of a public
  funeral. See also the form of proclaiming an auction, at the end
  of the Menæchmi of Plautus.]

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *
           *       *       *       *
       *       *       *       *       *

Errors and Inconsistencies (Noted by transcriber)

The variation between “Augustin” and “Augustine” (St.) is unchanged.

Unless otherwise noted, errors found in the New York (Harper) edition
are also present in the London (Bell/Bohn) edition.


  CHREM. But how say you----? [extraneous close quote at end]
  Footnote 83... She speaks of “liberæ,” “free women,”
    [in Harper edn. only, second open quote missing]
  Footnote 90... to tie criminals hands and feet together
    [no apostrophe after ”criminals”; grammatical intent is


  Footnote 10... From δόναξ, “a reed.” [δόνὰξ with extra accent]
  Footnote 33... these words, commencing with “Sane, quia vero,”
     [Harper edn. has “conmencing”]


  CHREM. ...I opened all the casks, all the vessels;[56]
    [footnote tag missing in Bell/Bohn;
    Harper has extraneous close quote instead]


  Footnotes 14-16 --This Play [page printed without dashes in
  DEM. {Æschinus}, if you are a man, he’ll do it.
    [final period missing in Harper]


  Footnote 57... contradicts himself?
    [Harper edn. has extraneous close quote]

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