ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

Enter PAMPHILUS and PARMENO.

PAM. No individual, I do believe, ever met with more crosses in love than I. Alas! unhappy me! that I have {thus} been sparing of life! Was it for this I was so very impatient to return home? O, how much more preferable had it been for me to pass my life any where in the world than to return here and be sensible that I am thus wretched! For all of us know who have met with trouble from any cause, that all the time that passes before we come to the knowledge of it, is so much gain.

PAR. Still, as it is, you'll the sooner know how to extricate yourself from these misfortunes. If you had not returned, this breach might have become much wider; but now, Pamphilus, I am sure that both will be awed by your presence. You will learn the facts, remove their enmity, restore them to good feeling once again. {These} are but trifles which you have persuaded yourself are {so} grievous.

PAM. Why comfort me? Is there a person in all the world so wretched as {I}? Before I took her to wife, I had my heart engaged by other affections. Now, though on this subject I should be silent, it is easy for any one to know how much I have suffered; yet I never dared refuse her whom my father forced upon me. With difficulty did I withdraw myself from another, and disengage my affections so firmly rooted there! and hardly had I fixed them in another quarter, when, lo! a new misfortune has arisen, which may tear me from her too. Then besides, I suppose that in this matter I shall find either my mother or my wife in fault; and when I find such to be the fact, what remains but to become still more wretched? For duty, Parmeno, bids me bear with the feelings of a mother; then, to my wife I am bound by obligations; with so much temper did she formerly bear my usage, and on no occasion disclose the many wrongs {inflicted on her} by me. But, Parmeno, something of consequence, I know not what it is, must have happened for {this} misunderstanding to have arisen between them, that has lasted so long.

PAR. Or else something frivolous, i'faith, if you would only give words their proper value; those which are sometimes the greatest enmities, do not argue the greatest injuries; for it often happens that in certain circumstances, in which another would not even be out of temper, for the very same reason a passionate man becomes your greatest enemy. What enmities do children entertain among themselves for trifling injuries! For what reason? Why, because they have a weak understanding to direct them. Just so are these women, almost like children with their fickle feelings; perhaps a single word has occasioned this enmity between them, master.

PAM. Go, Parmeno, into the house, and carry word[35] that I have arrived.

(A noise is heard in the house of PHIDIPPUS.)

PAR. (starting.) Ha! What means this?

PAM. Be silent. I perceive a bustling about, and a running to and fro.

PAR. (going to the door.) Come then, I'll approach nearer to the door. (He listens.) Ha! did you hear?

PAM. Don't be prating. (He listens.) O Jupiter, I heard a shriek!

PAR. You yourself are talking, while you forbid me.

MYR. (within the house.) Prithee, my child, do be silent.

PAM. {That} seems to be the voice of Philumena's mother. I'm undone!

PAR. Why so?

PAM. Utterly ruined!

PAR. For what reason?

PAM. Parmeno, you are concealing from me some great misfortune to me unknown.

PAR. They said that your wife, Philumena, was in alarm about[36] something, I know not what; whether that may be it, perchance, I don't know.

PAM. I am undone! Why didn't you tell me of this?

PAR. Because I couldn't {tell} every thing at once.

PAM. What is the malady?

PAR. I don't know.

PAM. What! has no one brought a physician {to see her}?

PAR. I don't know.

PAM. Why delay going in-doors, that I may know as soon as possible for certain what it is? In what condition, Philumena, am I now to find you? But if you are in any peril, beyond a doubt I will perish with you. (Goes into the house of PHIDIPPUS.)

SCENE II.

PARMENO alone.

PAR. (to himself.) There is no need for me to follow him into the house at present, for I see that we are all disagreeable to them. Yesterday, no one would give Sostrata admittance. If, perchance, the malady should become worse, which really I could far from wish, for my master's sake especially, they would at once say that Sostrata's servant had been in there; they would invent a story that I had brought some mischief against their lives and persons, in consequence of which the malady had been increased. My mistress would be blamed, and I should incur heavy punishment.[37]

SCENE III.

Enter SOSTRATA.

SOS. (to herself.) In dreadful alarm, I have for some time heard, I know not what confusion going on here; I'm sadly afraid Philumena's illness is getting worse. AEsculapius, I do entreat thee, and thee, Health,[38] that it may not be so. Now I'll go visit her. (Approaches the door.)

PAR. (coming forward.) Hark you, Sostrata.

SOS. (turning round.) Well.

PAR. You will again be shut out there.

SOS. What, Parmeno, is it you? I'm undone! wretch that I am, what shall I do? Am I not to go see the wife of Pamphilus, when she is ill here next door?

PAR. Not go see her! Don't even send any person for the purpose of seeing {her}; for I'm of opinion that he who loves a person to whom he is an object of dislike, commits a double mistake: he himself takes a useless trouble, and causes annoyance to the other. Besides, your son went in to see how she is, as soon as he arrived.

SOS. What is it you say? Has Pamphilus arrived?

PAR. He has.

SOS. I give thanks unto the Gods! Well, through that news my spirits are revived, and anxiety has departed from my heart.

PAR. For this reason, then, I am especially unwilling you should go in there; for if Philumena's malady at all abates, she will, I am sure, when they are by themselves, at once tell him all the circumstances; both what misunderstandings have arisen between you, {and} how the difference first began. But see, he's coming out— how sad {he looks}!

SCENE IV.

Re-enter PAMPHILUS, from the house of PHIDIPPUS.

SOS. (running up to him.) O my son! (Embraces him.)

PAM. My mother, blessings on you.

SOS. I rejoice that you are returned safe. Is Philumena in a fair way?

PAM. She is a little better. (Weeping.)

SOS. Would that the Gods may grant it so! Why, then, do you weep, or why so dejected?

PAM. All's well, mother.

SOS. What meant that confusion? Tell me; was she suddenly taken ill?

PAM. Such was the fact.

SOS. What is her malady?

PAM. A fever.

SOS. An intermitting one?[39]

PAM. So they say. Go in the house, please, mother; I'll follow you immediately.

SOS. Very well. (Goes into her house.)

PAM. Do you run and meet the servants, Parmeno, and help them with the baggage.

PAR. Why, don't they know the way themselves to come to our house?

PAM. (stamping.) Do you loiter? (Exit PARMENO.

SCENE V.

PAMPHILUS, alone.

PAM. I can not discover any fitting commencement of my troubles, at which to begin to narrate the things that have so unexpectedly befallen me, some of which with these eyes I have beheld; some I have heard with my ears; {and} on account of which I so hastily betook myself, in extreme agitation, out of doors. For just now, when, full of alarm, I rushed into the house, expecting to find my wife afflicted with some other malady than what I have found it to be;— ah me! immediately the servant-maids beheld that I had arrived, they all at the same moment joyfully exclaimed, "He is come," from having so suddenly caught sight of me. But I soon perceived the countenances of all of them change,[40] because at so unseasonable a juncture chance had brought me there. One of them in the mean time hastily ran before me to give notice that I had come. Impatient to see my wife, I followed close. When I entered the room, that instant, to my sorrow, I found out her malady; for neither did the time afford any interval to enable her to conceal it, nor could she complain in any other accents than {those which} the case itself prompted. When I perceived {this}: "O disgraceful conduct!" I exclaimed, and instantly hurried away from the spot in tears, overwhelmed by such an incredible and shocking circumstance. Her mother followed me; just as I got to the threshold, she threw herself on her knees: I felt compassion for her. Assuredly it is the fact, in my opinion, just as matters befall us all, so are we elated or depressed. At once she began to address me in these words: "O my {dear} Pamphilus, you see the reason why she left your house; for violence was offered to her when formerly a maid, by some villain to us unknown. Now, she took refuge here then, that from you and others she might conceal her labor." But when I call to mind her entreaties, I can not, wretched as I am, refrain from tears. "Whatever chance or fortune it is," said she, "which has brought you here to-day, by it we do both conjure you, if with equity and justice we may, that her misfortune may be concealed by you, and kept a secret from all. If ever you were sensible, my {dear} Pamphilus, that she was tenderly disposed toward you, she now asks you to grant her this favor in return, without making any difficulty of it. But as to taking her back, act quite according to your own convenience. You alone are aware of her lying-in, and that the child is none of yours. For it is said that it was two months after the marriage before she had commerce with you. And then, this is but the seventh month since she came to you.[41] That you are sensible of this, the circumstances themselves prove. Now, if it is possible, Pamphilus, I especially wish, and will use my endeavors, that her labor may remain unknown to her father, and to all, in fact. But if that can not be managed, and they do find it out, I will say that she miscarried; I am sure no one will suspect otherwise than, what is so likely, the child was by you. It shall be instantly exposed; in that case there is no inconvenience whatever to yourself, and you will be concealing an outrage so undeservingly committed upon her,[42] poor thing!" I promised {this}, and I am resolved to keep faith in what I said. But as to taking her back, really I do not think that would be at all creditable, nor will I do so, although love for her, and habit, have a strong influence upon me. I weep when it occurs to my mind, what must be her life, and {how great} her loneliness in future. O Fortune, thou hast never been found constant! But by this time {my} former passion has taught me experience in the present case. The means by which I got rid of that, I must employ on the present occasion. Parmeno is coming with the servants; it is far from convenient that he should be here under present circumstances, for he was the only person to whom I trusted the secret that I kept aloof from her when I first married her. I am afraid lest, if he should frequently hear her cries, he might find out that she is in labor. He must be dispatched by me somewhere till Philumena is delivered.

SCENE VI.

Enter at a distance PARMENO and SOSIA, with people carrying baggage.

PAR. (to SOSIA.) Do you say that this voyage was disagreeable to you?

SOSIA. Upon my faith, Parmeno, it can not be so much as expressed in words, how disagreeable it is to go on a voyage.

PAR. Do you say so?

SOSIA. O lucky man! You don't know what evils you have escaped, by never having been at sea. For to say nothing of other hardships, mark this one only; thirty days or more[43] was I on board that ship, and every moment, to my horror, was in continual expectation of death: such unfavorable weather did we always meet with.

PAR. How annoying!

SOSIA. That's not unknown to me: in fine, upon my faith, I would rather run away than go back, if I knew that I should have to go back there.

PAR. Why really, but slight causes formerly made you, Sosia, do what now you are threatening to do. But I see Pamphilus himself standing before the door. (To the Attendants, who go into the house of LACHES.) Go in-doors; I'll accost him, {to see} if he wants any thing with me. (Accosts PAMPHILUS.) What, still standing here, master?

PAM. Yes, and waiting for you.

PAR. What's the matter?

PAM. You must run across to the citadel.[44]

PAR. Who must?

PAM. You.

PAR. To the citadel? Why thither?

PAM. To meet Callidemides, my entertainer at Myconos, who came over in the same ship with me.

PAR. (aside.) Confusion! I should say he has made a vow that if ever he should return home safe, he would rupture me[45] with walking.

PAM. Why are you lingering?

PAR. What do you wish me to say? Or am I to meet him only?

PAM. No; say that I can not meet him to-day, as I appointed, so that he may not wait for me to no purpose. Fly!

PAR. But I don't know the man's appearance.

PAM. Then I'll tell you how to know it; a huge {fellow}, ruddy, with curly hair, fat, with gray eyes {and} freckled countenance.

PAR. May the Gods confound him! What if he shouldn't come? Am I to wait {there}, even till the evening?

PAM. Yes, wait {there}. Run!

PAR. I can't; I am so tired. (Exit slowly.

SCENE VII.

PAMPHILUS, alone.

PAM. He's off. What shall I do in this distressed situation? Really, I don't know in what way I'm to conceal this, as Myrrhina entreated me, her daughter's lying-in; but I do pity the woman. What I can, I'll do; {only} so long, however, as I observe my duty; for it is proper that I should be regardful of a parent,[46] rather than of my passion. But look— I see Phidippus and my father. They are coming this way; what to say to them, I'm at a loss. (Stands apart.)

SCENE VIII.

Enter, at a distance, LACHES and PHIDIPPUS.

LACH. Did you not say, just now, that she was waiting for my son's return?

PHID. Just so.

LACH. They say that he has arrived; let her return.

PAM. (apart to himself, aloud.) What excuse to make to my father for not taking her back, I don't know!

LACH. (turning round.) Who was it I heard speaking here?

PAM. (apart.) I am resolved to persevere in the course I determined to pursue.

LACH. 'Tis the very person about whom I was talking to you.

PAM. Health to you, my father.

LACH. Health to you, my son.

PHID. I am glad that you have returned, Pamphilus, and the more especially so, as you are safe and well.

PAM. I believe you.

LACH. Have you but just arrived?

PAM. Only just now.

LACH. Tell me, what has our cousin Phania left us?

PAM. Why really, i'faith, he was a man very much devoted to pleasure while he lived; and those who are so, don't much benefit their heirs, but for themselves leave this commendation: While he lived, he lived well.[47]

LACH. So then, you have brought home nothing more[48] than a single sentiment?

PAM. Whatever he has left, we are the gainers by it.

LACH. Why no, it has proved a loss; for I could have wished him alive and well.

PHID. You may wish that with impunity; he'll never come to life again; and after all I know which of the two you would prefer.

LACH. Yesterday, he (pointing to PHIDIPPUS) desired Philumena to be fetched to his house. (Whispers to PHIDIPPUS, nudging him with his elbow.) Say that you desired it.

PHID. (aside to LACHES.) Don't punch me so. (To PAMPHILUS.) I desired it.

LACH. But he'll now send her home again.

PHID. Of course.

PAM. I know the whole affair, and how it happened; I heard it just now, on my arrival.

LACH. Then may the Gods confound those spiteful people who told this news with such readiness!

PAM. (to PHIDIPPUS.) I am sure that it has been my study, that with reason no slight might possibly be committed by your family; and if I were now truthful to mention of how faithful, loving, and tender a disposition I have proved toward her, I could {do so} truly, did I not rather wish that you should learn it of herself; for by that method you will be the more ready to place confidence in my disposition when she, who is now acting unjustly toward me, speaks favorably of me. And that through no fault of mine this separation has taken place, I call the Gods to witness. But since she considers that it is not befitting her to give way to my mother, and with readiness to conform to her temper, and as on no other terms it is possible for good feeling to exist between them, either my mother must be separated, Phidippus, from me, or else Philumena. Now affection urges me rather to consult my mother's pleasure.

LACH. Pamphilus, your words have reached my ears not otherwise than to my satisfaction, since I find that you postpone all considerations for your parent. But take care, Pamphilus, lest impelled by resentment, you carry matters too far.

PAM. How, impelled by resentment, could I now be biased against her who never has been guilty of any thing toward me, father, that I could not wish, and who has often deserved as well as I could desire? I both love and praise and exceedingly regret her, for I have found by experience that she was of a wondrously engaging disposition with regard to myself; and I sincerely wish that she may spend the remainder of her life with a husband who may prove more fortunate than me, since necessity {thus} tears her from me.

PHID. 'Tis in your own power to prevent that.

LACH. If you are in your senses, order her to come back.

PAM. It is not my intention, father; I shall study my mother's interests. (Going away.)

LACH. Whither are you going? Stay, stay, I tell you; whither are you going? (Exit PAMPHILUS.

SCENE IX.

LACHES and PHIDIPPUS.

PHID. What obstinacy is this?

LACH. Did I not tell you, Phidippus, that he would take this matter amiss? It was for that reason I entreated you to send your daughter back.

PHID. Upon my faith, I did not believe he would be so brutish; does he now fancy that I shall come begging to him? If {so} it is that he chooses to take back his wife, why, let him; if he is of another mind, let him pay back her portion,[49] {and} take himself off.

LACH. Just look at that, now; you too are getting obstinate and huffish.

PHID. (speaking with anger.) You have returned to us in a very ungovernable mood, Pamphilus.

LACH. This anger will depart; although he has some reason for being vexed.

PHID. Because you have had a windfall, a little money, your minds are elevated.

LACH. Are you going to fall out with me, too?

PHID. Let him consider, and bring me word to-day, whether he will or will not, that she may belong to another if she does not to him. (Goes hastily into his own house.)

LACH. Phidippus, stay; listen to a few words—

SCENE X.

LACHES, alone.

LACH. He's off; what matters it to me? In fine, let them manage it between themselves, just as they please; since neither my son nor he pay any regard to me; they care but little for what I say. I'll carry the quarrel to my wife, by whose planning all these things have been brought about, and against her I will vent all the vexation that I feel.



ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

Enter MYRRHINA, from her house.

MYR. I am undone! What am I to do? which way turn myself? In my wretchedness, what answer am I to give to my husband? For he seems to have heard the voice of the child when crying, so suddenly did he rush in to my daughter without saying a word. What if he comes to know that she has been delivered? for what reason I am to say I kept it concealed, upon my faith I do not know. But there's a noise at the door; I believe it is himself coming out to me: I'm utterly undone!

SCENE II.

Enter PHIDIPPUS, from the house.

PHID. (to himself.) My wife, when she saw me going to my daughter, betook herself out of the house: and look, there she is. (Addressing her.) What have you to say, Myrrhina? Hark you! to you I speak.

MYR. What, to me, my husband?

PHID. Am I your husband? Do you consider me a husband, or a man, in fact? For, woman, if I had ever appeared to you to be either of these, I should not in this way have been held in derision by your doings.

MYR. By what {doings}?

PHID. Do you ask the question? Is not your daughter brought to bed? Eh, are you silent? By whom?

MYR. Is it proper for a father to be asking such a question? Oh, shocking! By whom do you think, pray, except by him to whom she was given in marriage?

PHID. I believe it; nor indeed is it for a father to think otherwise. But I wonder much what the reason can be for which you so very much wish all of us to be in ignorance of the truth, especially when she has been delivered properly, and at the right time.[50] That you should be of a mind so perverse as to prefer that the child should perish, through which you might be sure that hereafter there would be a friendship more lasting between us, rather than that, at the expense of your feelings, his wife should continue with him! I supposed this to be their fault, while {in reality} it lies with you.

MYR. I am an unhappy creature!

PHID. I wish I were sure that so it was; but now it recurs to my mind what you once said about this matter, when we accepted him as {our} son-in-law. For you declared that you could not endure your daughter to be married to a person who was attached to a courtesan, {and} who spent his nights away from home.

MYR. (aside.) Any cause whatever I had rather he should suspect than the right one.

PHID. I knew much sooner than you did, Myrrhina, that he kept a mistress; but this I never considered a crime in young men; for it is natural to them all. For, i' faith, the time will soon come when even he will be disgusted with himself {for doing so}. But just as you formerly showed yourself, you have never ceased to be the same up to the present time; in order that you might withdraw your daughter from him, and that what I did might not hold good, one thing itself now plainly proves how far you wished it carried out.

MYR. Do you suppose that I am so willful that I could have entertained such feelings toward one whose mother I am, if this match had been to our advantage?

PHID. Can you possibly foresee or judge what is to our advantage? You have heard it of some one, perhaps, who has told you that he has seen him coming from or going to his mistress. What then? If he has done so with discretion, and but occasionally, is it not more kind in us to conceal our knowledge of it, than to do our best to be aware of it, in consequence of which he will detest us? For if he could all at once have withdrawn himself from her with whom he had been intimate for so many years, I should not have deemed him a man, or likely to prove a constant husband for our daughter.

MYR. Do have done about the young man, I pray; and what you say I've been guilty of. Go away, meet him by yourself; ask him whether he wishes to have her as a wife or not; if so it is that he should say he does wish it, {why}, send her {back}; but if on the other hand he does not wish it, I have taken the best course for my {child}.

PHID. And suppose he does not wish it, and you, Myrrhina, knew him to be in fault; {still} I was at hand, by whose advice it was proper for these matters to be settled; therefore I am greatly offended that you have presumed to act thus without my leave. I forbid you to attempt to carry the child any where out of this house. But I am very foolish to be expecting her to obey my orders. I'll go in-doors, and charge the servants to allow it to be carried out nowhere. (Goes into the house.)

SCENE III.

MYRRHINA, alone.

MYR. Upon my faith, I do believe that there is no woman living more wretched than I; for how he would take it, if he came to know the real state of the case, i' faith, is not unknown to me, when he bears this, which is of less consequence, with such angry feelings; and I know not in what way his sentiments can possibly be changed. Out of very many misfortunes, this one evil alone had been wanting to me, for him to compel me to rear a child of whom we know not who is the father; for when my daughter was ravished, it was so dark that his person could not be distinguished, nor was any thing taken from him on the occasion by which it could be afterward discovered who he was. He, on leaving her, took away from the girl, by force, a ring which[51] she had upon her finger. I am afraid, too, of Pamphilus, that he may be unable any longer to conceal what I have requested, when he learns that the child of another is being brought up as his. (Goes into the house.)

SCENE IV.

Enter SOSTRATA and PAMPHILUS.

SOS. It is not unknown to me, my son, that I am suspected by you as the cause of your wife having left our house in consequence of my conduct; although you carefully conceal your knowledge of it. But so may the Gods prosper me, and so may you answer all my hopes, I have never knowingly deserved that hatred of me should with reason possess her; and while I thought before that you loved me, on that point you have confirmed my belief: for in-doors your father has just now related to me in what way you have preferred me to your passion. Now it is my determination to return you the favor, that you may understand that with me lies the reward of your affection. My Pamphilus, I think that this is expedient both for yourselves and my own reputation. I have finally resolved to retire hence into the country with your father, that my presence may not be an obstacle, and that no pretense may remain why your Philumena should not return to you.

PAM. Pray, what sort of resolution is this? Driven away by her folly, would you be removing from the city to live in the country? You shall not do {so}; and I will not permit, mother, any one who may wish to censure us, to say that this has been done through my perverseness, {and} not your inclination. Besides, I do not wish you, for my sake, to forego your friends and relations, and festive days.[52]

SOS. Upon my word, these things afford me no pleasure now. While my time of life permitted it, I enjoyed them enough; satiety of that mode of life has now taken possession of me: this is at present my chief concern, that the length of my life may prove an annoyance to no one, or that he may look forward with impatience to my death.[53] Here I see that, without deserving it, I am disliked; it is time for {me} to retire. Thus, in the best way, I imagine, I shall cut short all grounds {of discontent} with all; I shall both free myself from suspicion, and shall be pleasing them. Pray, let me avoid this reproach, which so generally attaches on women to their disadvantage.

PAM. (aside.) How happy am I in other respects, were it not for this one thing alone, in having such a {good} mother, and her for my wife!

SOS. Pray, my Pamphilus, can you not, seeing how each woman is, prevail upon yourself to put up with one matter of inconvenience? If every thing else is according to your wish, and such as I take it to be— my son, do grant me this indulgence, {and} take her back.

PAM. Alas! wretched me!

SOS. And me as well; for this affair does not cause me less sorrow than you, my son.

SCENE V.

Enter LACHES.

LACH. While standing just by here, I have heard, wife, the conversation you have been holding with him. It is true wisdom to be enabled to govern the feelings whenever there is necessity; to do at the present moment what may perhaps, in the end, be necessary to be done.

SOS. Good luck to it, i'troth.

LACH. Retire then into the country; there I will bear with you, and you with me.

SOS. I hope so, i'faith.

LACH. Go in-doors then, and get together the things that are to be taken with you. I have {now} said it.

SOS. I'll do as you desire. (Goes into the house.)

PAM. Father!

LACH. What do you want, Pamphilus?

PAM. My mother go away? By no means.

LACH. Why would you have it so?

PAM. Because I am as yet undetermined what I shall do about my wife.

LACH. How is that? What should you intend to do but bring her home?

PAM. For my part, I could like, and can hardly forbear it; but I shall not alter my design; that which is most advantageous I shall pursue; I suppose (ironically) that they will be better reconciled, in consequence, if I shall take her back.

LACH. You can not tell. But it matters nothing to you which they do when she has gone away. {Persons of} this age are disliked by young people; it is right {for us} to withdraw from the world; in fine, we are now a {nice} by-word. We are, Pamphilus, "the old man and the old woman."[54] But I see Phidippus coming out just at the time; let's accost him.

SCENE VI.

Enter PHIDIPPUS, from his house.

PHID. (speaking at the door to PHILUMENA, within.) Upon my faith, I am angry with you too, Philumena, extremely so, for, on my word, you have acted badly; still there is an excuse for you in this matter; your mother forced you to it; but for her there is none.

LACH. (accosting him.) Phidippus, you meet me at a lucky moment, just at the very time.

PHID. What's the matter?

PAM. (aside.) What answer shall I make them, or in what manner keep this secret?

LACH. (to PHIDIPPUS.) Tell your daughter that Sostrata is going into the country, that she may not now be afraid of returning home.

PHID. Alas! your wife has been guilty of no fault in this affair; all this {mischief} has originated in my wife Myrrhina.

PAM. (aside.) They are changing sides.

PHID. 'Tis she that causes our disturbances, Laches.

PAM. (aside.) So long as I don't take her back, let her cause as much disturbance as she pleases.

PHID. I, Pamphilus, could really wish, if it were possible, this alliance between us to be lasting; but if you are otherwise inclined, {still} take the child.[55]

PAM. (aside.) He has discovered that she has been brought to bed. I'm undone!

LACH. The child! What child?

PHID. We have had a grandson born to us; for my daughter was removed from you in a state of pregnancy, and yet never before this day did I know that she was pregnant.

LACH. So may the Gods prosper me, you bring good tidings, and I am glad a child has been born, and that she is safe: but what {kind of} woman have you for a wife, or of what sort of a temper, that we should have been kept in ignorance of this so long? I can not sufficiently express how disgraceful this conduct appears to me.

PHID. This conduct does not vex me less than yourself, Laches.

PAM. (aside.) Even if it had just now been a matter of doubt to me, it is so no longer, since the child of another man is to accompany her.

LACH. Pamphilus, there is no room now for deliberation for you in this matter.

PAM. (aside.) I'm undone!

LACH. (to PAMPHILUS.) We were often longing to see the day on which there should be one to call you father; it has come to pass. I return thanks to the Gods.

PAM. (aside.) I am ruined!

LACH. Take home your wife, and don't oppose my will.

PAM. Father, if she had wished to have children by me, or to continue to be my wife, I am quite certain she would not have concealed from me what I find she has concealed. Now, as I find that her mind is estranged from me, and think that there would be no agreement between us in future, why should I take her back?

LACH. The young woman has done what her mother persuaded her. Is that to be wondered at? Do you suppose you can find any woman who is free from fault? Or is it that men have no failings?

PHID. Do you yourselves now consider, Laches, and you, Pamphilus, whether it is most advisable for you to leave her or take her back. What your wife may do, is not in my control. Under neither circumstance will you meet with any difficulty from me. But what are we to do with the child?

LACH. You do ask an absurd question; whatever happens, send him back his {child} of course, that we may bring it up as ours.

PAM. (in a low voice.) A child which the father has abandoned, am I to rear?

LACH. What was it you said? How— not rear it, Pamphilus? Prithee, are we to expose it, in preference? What madness is this? Really, I can not now be silent any longer. For you force me to say in his presence (pointing to PHIDIPPUS) what I would rather not. Do you suppose I am in ignorance {of the cause} of your tears, or what it is on account of which you are perplexed to this degree? In the first place, when you alleged as a reason, that, on account of your mother, you could not have your wife at home, she promised that she would leave the house. Now, since you see this pretext as well taken away from you, because a child has been born without your knowledge, you have got another. You are mistaken if you suppose that I am ignorant of your feelings. That at last you might prevail upon your feelings to take this step, how long a period for loving a mistress did I allow you! With what patience did I bear the expense you were at in keeping her! I remonstrated with you and entreated you to take a wife. I said that it was time: by my persuasion you married. What you then did in obedience to me, you did as became you. Now again you have set your fancy upon a mistress, and, to gratify her, you do an injury to the other as well. For I see plainly that you have once more relapsed into the same course of life.

PAM. What, I?

LACH. Your own self, and you act unjustly therein. You feign false grounds for discord, that you may live with her when you have got rid of this witness {of your actions}; your wife has perceived it too; for what other reason had she for leaving you?

PHID. (to himself.) It's clear he guesses right; for that must be it.

PAM. I will give you my oath that none of these is the reason.

LACH. Oh take home your wife, or tell me why you should not.

PAM. It is not the time at present.

LACH. Take the child, for surely that is not in fault; I will consider about the mother afterward.

PAM. (apart.) In every way I am wretched, and what to do I know not; with so many troubles is my father now besetting wretched me on every side. I'll go away from here, since I avail but little by my presence. For without my consent, I do not believe that they will bring up the child, especially as on that point my mother-in-law will second me. (Exit speedily.

SCENE VII.

LACHES and PHIDIPPUS.

LACH. (to PAMPHILUS.) Do you run away? What, and give me no distinct answer? (To PHIDIPPUS.) Does he seem to you to be in his senses? Let him alone. Phidippus, give me the child; I'll bring it up.

PHID. By all means. No wonder if my wife has taken this amiss: women are resentful; they do not easily put up with such things. Hence that anger of hers, for she herself told me of it; I would not mention this to you in his presence, and at first I did not believe her; but now it is true beyond a doubt; for I see that his feelings are altogether averse to marriage.

LACH. What am I to do, then, Phidippus? What advice do you give?

PHID. What are you to do? I am of opinion that first we ought to go to this mistress of {his}. Let us use entreaties with her; {then} let us rebuke her; and at last, let us very seriously threaten her, if she gives him any encouragement in future.

LACH. I will do as you advise. (Turning to an ATTENDANT.) Ho, there, boy! run to the house of Bacchis here, our neighbor; desire her, in my name, to come hither. (Exit ATTENDANT.) And you, I further entreat, to give me your assistance in this affair.

PHID. Well, I have already said, and I now say again to the same effect, Laches, I wish this alliance between us to continue, if by any means it possibly may, which I trust will be the case. But should you like[56] me to be with you while you meet her?

LACH. Why yes; but first go and get some one as a nurse for the child. (Exit PHIDIPPUS.

SCENE VIII.

Enter BACCHIS, attended by her WOMEN.

BACCH. (to her WOMEN.) It is not for nothing that Laches now desires to speak with me; and, i' faith, I am not very far from mistaken in making a guess what it is he wants me for.

LACH. (to himself.) I must take care that I don't, through anger, miss gaining in this quarter what I {otherwise} might, and that I don't do any thing which hereafter it would have been better I had not done. I'll accost her. (Accosts her.) Bacchis, good-morrow to you!

BACCH. Good-morrow to you, Laches!

LACH. Troth, now, Bacchis, I suppose you somewhat wonder what can be my reason for sending the lad to fetch you out of doors.

BACCH. Upon my faith, I am even in some anxiety as well, when I reflect what I am, lest the name of my calling should be to my prejudice; for my behavior I can easily defend.

LACH. If you speak the truth, you will be in no danger, woman, from me, for I am now of that age that it is not meet for me to receive forgiveness for a fault; for that reason do I the more carefully attend to every particular, that I may not act with rashness; for if you now do, or intend to do, that which is proper for deserving {women} to do, it would be unjust for me, in my ignorance, to offer an injury to you, when undeserving of it.

BACCH. On my word, great is the gratitude that I ought to feel toward you for such conduct; for he who, after committing an injury, would excuse himself, would profit me but little. But what is the matter?

LACH. You admit my son, Pamphilus, to your house.

BACCH. Ah!

LACH. Just let me {speak}: before he was married to this woman, I tolerated your amour. Stay! I have not yet said to you what I intended. He has now got a wife: look out for another person more to be depended on, while you have time to deliberate; for neither will he be of this mind all his life, nor, i' faith, will you be {always} of your present age.

BACCH. Who is it says this?

LACH. His mother-in-law.

BACCH. What! that I—

LACH. That you {do}: and she has taken away her daughter; and for that reason, has wished secretly to destroy the child that has been born.

BACCH. Did I know any other means whereby I might be enabled to establish my credit with you, more solemn than an oath, I would, Laches, assure you of this, that I have kept Pamphilus at a distance[57] from me ever since he took a wife.

LACH. You are very good. But, pray, do you know what I would prefer that you should do?

BACCH. What? Tell me.

LACH. Go in-doors there (pointing to the house of PHIDIPPUS) to the women, and make the same promise, on oath, to them; satisfy their minds, and clear yourself from this charge.

BACCH. I will do {so}; although, i'faith, if it had been any other woman of this calling, she would not have done so, I am quite sure; present herself before a married woman for such a purpose! But I do not wish your son to be suspected on an unfounded report, nor appear inconstant, undeservedly, to you, to whom he by no means ought; for he has deserved of me, that, so far as I am able, I should do him a service.

LACH. Your language has rendered me quite friendly and well disposed toward you; but not only did they think {so}— I too believed it. Now that I have found you quite different from what I had expected, take care that you still continue the same— make use of my friendship as you please; if otherwise——; but I will forbear, that you may not hear any thing unkind from me. But this one thing I recommend you— make trial what sort of a friend I am, or what I can effect {as such}, rather than {what as} an enemy.

SCENE IX.

Enter PHIDIPPUS and a NURSE.

PHID. (to the NURSE.) Nothing at my house will I suffer you to be in want of; but whatever is requisite shall be supplied {you} in abundance. Still, when you are well fed and well drenched, do take care that the child has enough. (The NURSE goes into his house.)

LACH. (to BACCHIS.) My son's father-in-law, I see, is coming; he is bringing a nurse for the child. (Accosting him.) Phidippus, Bacchis swears most solemnly.

PHID. Is this she?

LACH. It is.

PHID. Upon my faith, those women don't fear the Gods; and I don't think that the Gods care about them.

BACCH. (pointing to her ATTENDANTS.) I will give you up my female servants; with my full permission, examine them with any tortures you please. The business at present is this: I must make his wife return home to Pamphilus; should I effect that, I shall not regret its being reported that I have been the only one to do what other courtesans avoid doing.[58]

LACH. We find, Phidippus, that our wives have been unjustly suspected[59] by us in this matter. Let us now try her still further; for if your wife discovers that she has given credence to a false charge, she will dismiss her resentment; but if my son is also angry, by reason of the circumstance that his wife has been brought to bed without his knowledge, that is a trifle: his anger on that account will speedily subside. Assuredly in this matter, there is nothing so bad as to be deserving of a separation.

PHID. I sincerely wish it may be {so}.

LACH. Examine {her}; here she is; she herself will satisfy you.

PHID. Why do you tell me these things? {Is it} because you have not already heard what my feelings are with regard to this matter, Laches? Do you only satisfy their minds.

LACH. Troth now, Bacchis, I do entreat that what you have promised me you will do.

BACCH. Would you wish me, then, to go in about this business?

LACH. Go, and satisfy their minds, so as to make them believe it.

BACCH. I'll go: although, upon my word, I am quite sure that my presence will be disagreeable to them, for a married woman is the enemy of a mistress, when she has been separated from her husband.

LACH. But they will be your friends, when they know the reason of your coming.

PHID. And I promise that they shall be your friends, when they know the fact; for you will release them from their mistake, and yourself, at the same time, from suspicion.

BACCH. Wretched me! I'm ashamed {to meet} Philumena. (To her ATTENDANTS.) Do you both follow me into the house. (Goes into the house with PHIDIPPUS and her ATTENDANTS.)

LACH. (to himself.) What is there that I could more wish for, than what I see has happened to this woman? To gain favor without loss to myself, and to benefit myself at {the same time}. For if now it is the fact that she has really withdrawn from Pamphilus, she knows that by that step she has acquired honor and reputation: she returns the favor to him, and, by the same means, attaches us as friends to herself. (Goes into the house.)



ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

Enter PARMENO, moving along with difficulty.

PAR. (to himself.) Upon my faith, my master does assuredly think my labor of little value; to have sent me for nothing, where I have been sitting the whole day to no purpose, waiting at the citadel for Callidemides, his landlord at Myconos. And so, while sitting there to-day, {like} a fool, as each person came by, I accosted him:— "Young man, just tell me, pray, are you a Myconian?" "I am not." "But is your name Callidemides?" "No." "Have you any {former} guest here {named} Pamphilus?" All said. "No; and I don't believe that there is any such person." At last, i' faith, I was quite ashamed, {and} went away. But how is it I see Bacchis coming out of our neighbor's? What business can she have there?

SCENE II.

Enter BACCHIS, from the house of PHIDIPPUS.

BACCH. Parmeno, you make your appearance opportunely; run with all speed[60] to Pamphilus.

PAR. Why thither?

BACCH. Say that I entreat him to come.

PAR. To your house?

BACCH. No; to Philumena.

PAR. What's the matter?

BACCH. Nothing that concerns you; so cease to make inquiry.

PAR. Am I to say nothing else?

BACCH. Yes; that Myrrhina has recognized that ring as her daughter's, which he formerly gave me.

PAR. I understand— is that all?

BACCH. That's all. He will be here directly he has heard this from you. But do you linger?

PAR. Far from it, indeed; for I've not had the opportunity given me to-day; so much with running and walking about have I wasted the whole day. (Goes into the house of LACHES.)

SCENE III.

BACCHIS, alone.

BACCH. What great joy have I caused for Pamphilus by my coming to-day! How many blessings have I brought him! and from how many sorrows have I rescued him! A son I save for him, when it was nearly perishing through the agency of these {women} and of himself: a wife, whom he thought that he must cast off forever, I restore {to him}: from the suspicion that he lay under with his father and Phidippus, I have cleared him. This ring, in fact, was the cause of these discoveries being made. For I remember, that about ten months ago, at an early hour of night, he came running home to my house, out of breath, without a companion, and surcharged with wine,[61] with this ring {in his hand}. I felt alarmed immediately: "My Pamphilus," I said, "prithee, my dear, why thus breathless, or where did you get that ring? —tell me!" He {began} to pretend that he was thinking of something else. When I saw {that}, I began to suspect I know not what, {and} to press him still more to tell me. The fellow confessed that he had ravished {some female}, he knew not whom, in the street; and said, that while she was struggling, he had taken that ring away from her. Myrrhina here recognized it just now, while I had it on my finger. She asked whence it came: I told her all the story. Hence the discovery has been made that it was Philumena ravished by him, and that this new-born child is his. I am overjoyed that this happiness has befallen him through my agency; although other courtesans would not have similar feelings; nor, indeed, is it to our interest that any lover should find pleasure in matrimony. But, i'faith, I never, for the sake of gain, will give my mind to base actions. So long as I had the opportunity, I found him to be kind, easy, and good-natured. This marriage has fallen out unluckily for me,— that I confess to be the fact. But, upon my word, I do think that I have done nothing for it to befall me deservedly. It is but reasonable to endure inconveniences from one from whom I have received so many benefits.

SCENE IV.

Enter PAMPHILUS and PARMENO, from the house of LACHES, on the other side of the stage.

PAM. Once more, take care, will you, my {dear} Parmeno, that you have brought me a faithful and distinct account, so as not to allure me for a short time to indulge in these transient joys.

PAR. I have taken care.

PAM. For certain?

PAR. For certain.

PAM. I am quite a God, if it is so!

PAR. You'll find it true.

PAM. Just stay, will you; I fear that I'm believing one thing, and you are telling another.

PAR. I am staying.

PAM. I think you said to this effect— that Myrrhina had discovered that Bacchis has her ring.

PAR. It is the fact.

PAM. The one I formerly gave to her; and she has desired you to tell me this: is such the fact?

PAR. Such is so, I tell you.

PAM. Who is there happier than I, and, in fact, more full of joyousness? What am I to present you for these tidings? What? —what? I know not.

PAR. But I know.

PAM. What?

PAR. Why, nothing; for neither in the tidings nor in myself do I know of there being any advantage to you.

PAM. What! am I to suffer you, who have caused me, when dead, to be restored from the shades to life— to leave me unrewarded? Oh, you deem me too thankless! But look— I see Bacchis standing before the door; she's waiting for me, I suppose; I'll accost her.

BACCH. Save you, Pamphilus!

PAM. Oh Bacchis! Oh my Bacchis— my preserver!

BACCH. {It is} a fortunate thing, and gives me great delight.

PAM. By your actions, you give me reason to believe you, and so much do you retain your former charming qualities, that wherever you go, the meeting with you, your company, your conversation, always give pleasure.

BACCH. And you, upon my word, possess your former manners and disposition; so much so that not a single man living is more engaging than you.

PAM. (laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! do you {tell} me so?

BACCH. You had reason, Pamphilus, for being so fond of your wife. For never before to-day did I set eyes upon her, so as to know her: she seems a very gentle person.

PAM. Tell the truth.

BACCH. So may the Gods bless me, Pamphilus!

PAM. Tell me, have you as yet told any of these matters to my father?

BACCH. Not a word.

PAM. Nor is there need, in fact; therefore keep it a secret: I don't wish it to be the case here as it is in the Comedies,[62] where every thing is known to every body. Here, those who ought to know, know already; but those who ought not to know, shall neither hear of it nor know it.

BACCH. Nay more, I will give you a {proof} why you may suppose that this may be the more easily concealed. Myrrhina has told Phidippus to this effect— that she has given credit to my oath, and that, in consequence, in her eyes you are exculpated.

PAM. Most excellent; and I trust that this matter will turn out according to our wishes.

PAR. Master, may I not be allowed to know from you what is the good that I have done to-day, or what it is you are talking about?

PAM. You may not.

PAR. Still I suspect. "I {restore} him, when dead, from the shades below."[63] In what way?

PAM. You don't know, Parmeno, how much you have benefited me to-day, and from what troubles you have extricated me.

PAR. Nay, but indeed I do know: and I did not do it without design.

PAM. I know that well enough (ironically).

BACCH. Could Parmeno, from negligence, omit any thing that ought to be done?

PAM. Follow me in, Parmeno.

PAR. I'll follow; for my part, I have done more good to-day, without knowing it, than ever {I did}, knowingly, in all my life. (Coming forward.) Grant us your applause.[64]



FOOTNOTES

[Footnote 1: See the Dramatis Personae of the Eunuchus.]

[Footnote 2: From pheido, "parsimony," and hippos "a horse."]

[Footnote 3: See the Dramatis Personae of the Andria.]

[Footnote 4: See the Dramatis Personae of the Andria.]

[Footnote 5: See the Dramatis Personae of the Eunuchus.]

[Footnote 6: See the Dramatis Personae of the Heautontimorumenos.]

[Footnote 7: From murrhine "a myrtle."]

[Footnote 8: See the Dramatis Personae of the Heautontimorumenos.]

[Footnote 9: From philotes "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 Hekura, a "step-mother," or "mother-in-law," Latinized.]

[Footnote 15: And calamity)—Ver. 3. "Calamitas." This word is used in the same sense in the first line of the Eunuch. This is evidently the Prologue spoken on the second attempt to bring forward the piece. On the first occasion it probably had none. "Vitium" was a word used by the Augurs, with whom it implied an unfavorable omen, and thence came to be used for any misfortune or disaster. He seems to mean the depraved taste of the public, that preferred exhibitions of rope-dancers and pugilists to witnessing his Plays.]

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

[Footnote 17: Other Plays of his)—Ver. 8. Madame Dacier informs us that Vossius was of opinion that the second representation of this Play did not take place till after that of the Adelphi. In that case, they had already seen the rest of his Plays.]

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

[Footnote 19: Caecilius)—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 Caecilius poscit palmam, in ethesi Terentius.' 'In the choice of subjects, Caecilius 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 Caecilius, distinguishing them as the several characteristics of each writer, "Vincere Caecilius 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 Caecilius, 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 AEdiles 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 AEdiles 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 AEdiles had purchased it from the Poet, and the performers had bought it of the AEdiles 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 AEgean Sea, off the coast of Thrace.]

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

[Footnote 30: With a certain stranger)—Ver. 195. Here Philotis gives a reason, as Donatus observes, why she does not again appear in the Play. The following is an extract from Colman's remarks on this passage: "It were to be wished, for the sake of the credit of our author's acknowledged {art} in the Drama, that Philotis had assigned as good a reason for her appearing at all. Eugraphius justly says: 'The Courtesan in this Scene is a character quite foreign to the fable.' Donatus also says much the same thing in his Preface, and in his first Note to this Comedy; but adds that 'Terence chose this method rather than to relate the argument by means of a Prologue, or to introduce a God speaking from a machine. I will venture to say that the Poet might have taken a much shorter and easier method than either; I mean, to have begun the Play with the very Scene which now opens the Second Act.'"]

[Footnote 31: Scene I.)—Colman has the following observations on this Scene: "Donatus remarks that this Scene opens the intention of Terence to oppose the generally-received opinion, and to draw the character of a good step-mother. It would, therefore, as has been already observed, have been a very proper Scene to begin the Play, as it carries us immediately into the midst of things; and we can not fail to be interested when we see the persons acting so deeply interested themselves. We gather from it just so much of the story as is necessary for our information at first setting out. We are told of the abrupt departure of Philumena, and are witnesses of the confusion in the two families of Laches and Phidippus. The absence of Laches, which had been in great measure the occasion of this misunderstanding, is also very artfully mentioned in the altercation between him and Sostrata. The character of Laches is very naturally drawn. He has a good heart, and a testy disposition, and the poor old gentleman is kept in such constant perplexity that he has perpetual occasion to exert both those qualities."]

[Footnote 32: Intrust their children)—Ver. 212. The plural "liberos," children, is used where only one is being spoken of, similarly, in the Heautontimorumenos, l. 151.]

[Footnote 33: If he comes to know)—Ver. 262. Donatus observes that the Poet shows his art in here preparing a reason to be assigned by Pamphilus for his pretended discontent at the departure of his wife.]

[Footnote 34: Ha! Sostrata)—Ver. 271. Colman observes on this passage: "This is extremely artful. The answer of Philumena, as related by Phidippus, contains an ample vindication of Pamphilus. What, then, can we suppose could make the house so disagreeable to her in his absence, but the behavior of Sostrata? She declares her innocence; yet appearances are all against her. Supposing this to be the first Act of the Play, it would be impossible for a Comedy to open in a more interesting manner."]

[Footnote 35: And carry word)—Ver. 314. It was the custom with the Greeks and Romans, when returning from abroad, to send a messenger before them, to inform their wives of their arrival.]

[Footnote 36: Was in alarm about)—Ver. 321. "Pavitare." Casaubon has a curious suggestion here; he thinks it not improbable that he had heard the female servants whispering among themselves that Philumena "paritare," "was about to be brought to bed," which he took for "pavitare," "was in fear" of something.]

[Footnote 37: Heavy punishment)—Ver. 335. Probably meaning that he will be examined by torture, whether he has not, by drugs or other means, contributed to Philumena's illness.]

[Footnote 38: And thee, Health)—Ver. 338. She invokes AEsculapius, 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 AEsculapius, see the opening Scene of the Curculio of Plautus.]

[Footnote 39: An intermitting one)—Ver. 357. "Quotidiana;" literally, "daily."]

[Footnote 40: All of them change)—Ver. 369. This must have been imaginary, as they were not likely to be acquainted with the reason of Philumena's apprehensions.]

[Footnote 41: Since she came to you)—Ver. 394. There is great doubt what is the exact meaning of "postquam ad te venit," here,— whether it means, "it is now the seventh month since she became your wife," or, "it is now the seventh month since she came to your embraces," which did not happen for two months after the marriage. The former is, under the circumstances, the most probable construction.]

[Footnote 42: Committed upon her)—Ver. 401. Colman very justly observes here: "it is rather extraordinary that Myrrhina's account of the injury done to her daughter should not put Pamphilus in mind of his own adventure, which comes out in the Fifth Act. It is certain that had the Poet let the Audience into that secret in this place, they would have immediately concluded that the wife of Pamphilus and the lady whom he had ravished were one and the same person." Playwrights have never, in any age or country, troubled themselves much about probability in their plots. Besides, his adventure with Philumena was by no means an uncommon one. We find similar instances mentioned by Plautus; and violence and debauchery seem almost to have reigned paramount in the streets at night.]

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

[Footnote 44: To the citadel)—Ver. 431. This was the fort or citadel that defended the Piraeus, and being three miles distant from the city, was better suited for the design of Pamphilus, whose object it was to keep Parmeno for some time at a distance.]

[Footnote 45: He would rupture me)—Ver. 435. He facetiously pretends to think that Pamphilus may, during a storm at sea, have vowed to walk him to death, if he should return home.]

[Footnote 46: Regardful of a parent)—Ver. 448. Colman observes here: "This reflection seems to be rather improper in this place, for the discovery of Philumena's labor betrayed to Pamphilus the real motive of her departure; after which discovery his anxiety proceeds entirely from the supposed injury offered him, and his filial piety is from that period made use of merely as a pretense."]

[Footnote 47: He lived well)—Ver. 461. This is living well in the sense used by the "Friar of orders gray." "Who leads a good life is sure to live well."]

[Footnote 48: Brought home nothing more)—Ver. 462. Colman remarks that this passage is taken notice of by Donatus as a particularly happy stroke of character; and indeed the idea of a covetous old man gaping for a fat legacy, and having his mouth stopped by a moral precept, is truly comic.]

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

[Footnote 50: At the right time)—Ver. 531. Lemaire observes that, from this passage, it would appear that the Greeks considered seven months sufficient for gestation. So it would appear, if we are to take the time of the Play to be seven, and not nine, months after the marriage; and, as before observed, the former seems to be the more reasonable conclusion.]

[Footnote 51: A ring which)—Ver. 574. Colman remarks that this preparation for the catastrophe by the mention of the ring, is not so artful as might have been expected from Terence; as in this soliloquy he tells the circumstances directly to the Audience.]

[Footnote 52: And festive days)—Ver. 592. "Festos dies." The days for sacrificing to particular Divinities, when she would have the opportunity of meeting her friends, and making herself merry with them.]

[Footnote 53: Look forward with impatience to my death)—Ver. 596. Colman says: "This idea of the long life of a step-mother being odious to her family, is applied in a very beautiful and uncommon manner by Shakspeare:—

"Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace; for happy days bring in Another morn; but oh, methinks how slow This old morn wanes! she lingers my desires Like to a step-dame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue."

Midsummer Night's Dream.]

[Footnote 54: The old man and the old woman)—Ver. 621. "Senex atque anus." In these words he probably refers to the commencement of many of the stories current in those times, which began: "There were once upon a time an old man and an old woman." Indeed, almost the same words occur in the Stichus of Plautus, l. 540, at the commencement of a story: "Fuit olim, quasi ego sum, senex," "There was upon a time an old man, just like me."]

[Footnote 55: Still take the child)—Ver. 638. In cases of separation it was customary for the father to have the care of the male children.]

[Footnote 56: But should you like)—Ver. 725. Donatus observes that Phidippus utters these words with an air of disinclination to be present at the conference; and, indeed, the characters are well sustained, as it would not become him coolly to discourse with a courtesan, whom he supposes to have alienated Pamphilus from his daughter, although he might very properly advise it, as being likely to conduce to the peace of both families.]

[Footnote 57: Kept Pamphilus at a distance)—Ver. 752. Colman observes, how are we to reconcile this with the words of Parmeno at the beginning of the Play, where he says that Pamphilus visited Bacchis daily; and he inquires whether we are to suppose that Bacchis, who behaves so candidly in every other instance, wantonly perjures herself in this, or that the Poet, by a strange infatuation attending him in this Play, contradicts himself? To this it may be answered, that as Bacchis appears to be so scrupulous in other instances, it is credible that, notwithstanding his visits, she may not have allowed him to share her embraces.]

[Footnote 58: Other courtesans avoid doing)—Ver. 777. Colman has the following quotation from Donatus: "Terence, by his uncommon art, has attempted many innovations with great success. In this Comedy, he introduces, contrary to received prejudices, a good step-mother and an honest courtesan; but at the same time he so carefully assigns their motives of action, that by him alone every thing seems reconcilable to truth and nature; for this is just the opposite of what he mentions in another place, as the common privilege of all Poets, 'to paint good matrons and wicked courtesans.'" Perhaps the same good feeling prompted Terence, in showing that a mother-in-law and a courtesan could be capable of acting with good and disinterested feelings, which caused Cumberland to write his Play of "The Jew," to combat the popular prejudice against that persecuted class, by showing, in the character of Sheva, that a Jew might possibly be a virtuous man.]

[Footnote 59: Have been unjustly suspected)—Ver. 778. The words here employed are also capable of meaning, if an active sense is given to "suspectas," "our wives have entertained wrong suspicions;" but the sense above given seems preferable, as being the meaning of the passage.]

[Footnote 60: Run with all speed)—Ver. 809. Donatus remarks, that Parmeno is drawn as being of a lazy and inquisitive character; and that Terence, therefore, humorously contrives to keep him always on the move, and in total ignorance of what is going on.]

[Footnote 61: Surcharged with wine)—Ver. 824. Cooke has this remark here: "I suppose that this is the best excuse the Poet could make for the young gentleman's being guilty of felony and rape at the same time. In this speech, the incident is related on which the catastrophe of the Play turns, which incident is a very barbarous one, and attended with more than one absurdity, though it is the occasion of an agreeable discovery."]

[Footnote 62: In the Comedies)—Ver. 867.— Madame Dacier observes on this passage: "Terence here, with reason, endeavors to make the most of a circumstance peculiar to his Play. In other Comedies, every body, Actors as well as Spectators, are at last equally acquainted with the whole intrigue and catastrophe, and it would even be a defect in the plot were there any obscurity remaining. But Terence, like a true genius, makes himself superior to rules, and adds new beauties to his piece by forsaking them. His reasons for concealing from part of the personages of the Drama the principal incident of the plot, are so plausible and natural, that he could not have followed the beaten track without offending against manners and decency. This bold and uncommon turn is one of the chief graces of the Play."]

[Footnote 63: From the shades below)—Ver. 876. Parmeno says this, while pondering upon the meaning of all that is going on, and thereby expresses his impatience to become acquainted with it. He therefore repeats what Pamphilus has before said in the twelfth line of the present Act, about his having been restored from death to life by his agency.]

[Footnote 64: Your applause)—Ver. 881. We may here remark, that the Hecyra is the only one of the Plays of Terence with a single plot.]

* * * * * * * * *

PHORMIO; OR, THE SCHEMING PARASITE

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

DEMIPHO,[1] } Aged Athenians, brothers. CHREMES,[2] } ANTIPHO,[3] son of Demipho. PHAEDRIA,[4] son of Chremes. PHORMIO,[5] a Parasite. GETA,[6] servant of Demipho. DAVUS,[7] a servant. HEGIO,[8] } CRATINUS,[9] } Advocates. CRITO,[10] } DORIO,[11] a Procurer. NAUSISTRATA,[12] the wife of Chremes. SOPHRONA,[13] the nurse of Phanium.

Scene.—Athens; before the houses of DEMIPHO, CHREMES, and DORIO.

THE SUBJECT.

CHREMES and DEMIPHO are two aged Athenians, brothers. Nausistrata, the wife of Chremes, is a wealthy woman, possessed of large estates in the island of Lemnos. Chremes, who goes thither yearly to receive the rents, meets with a poor woman there, whom he secretly marries, and has by her a daughter called Phanium: while engaged in this intrigue, Chremes passes at Lemnos by the name of Stilpho. By his wife, Nausistrata, at Athens, Chremes has a son, named Phaedria, 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, Phaedria 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, Phaedria 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 Phaedria, and Phaedria to Dorio, for his mistress. At this conjuncture, it becomes known who Phanium really is, and the old men are delighted to find that Antipho has married the very person they wished. They attempt, however, to get back the thirty minae from Phormio, and proceed to threats and violence. On this, Phormio, who has accidentally learned the intrigue of Chremes with the woman of Lemnos, exposes him, and relates the whole story to his wife, Nausistrata; on which she censures her husband for his bad conduct, and the Play concludes with her thanks to Phormio for his information.

THE TITLE OF THE PLAY.

Performed at the Roman Games,[14] L. Posthumius Albinus and L. Cornelius Merula being Curule AEdiles. L. mbivius Turpio and L. Atilius Praenestinus performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius, composed the music to a base and a treble flute. It is wholly from the Greek, {being} the Epidicazomenos of Apollodorus. It was represented four times,[15] C. Fannius and M. Valerius being Consuls.[16]

PHORMIO; OR, THE SCHEMING PARASITE.

THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.

Demipho, the brother of Chremes, has gone abroad, his son Antipho being left at Athens. Chremes has secretly a wife and a daughter at Lemnos, another wife at Athens, and an only son, who loves a Music-girl. The mother arrives at Athens from Lemnos, {and there} dies. The girl, her orphan daughter, (Chemes being away,) arranges the funeral. After Antipho has fallen in love with her when seen there, through the aid of the Parasite he receives her as his wife. His father and Chremes, having {now} returned, {begin} to be enraged. Afterward they give thirty minae to the Parasite, that he may take her {as his own} wife. With this money the Music-girl is bought {for Phaedria}. Antipho {then} keeps his wife, who has been recognized by his uncle.



THE PROLOGUE.

Since the old Poet[17] can not withdraw {our} bard from his pursuits and reduce him to indolence, he endeavors, by invectives, to deter him from writing: for he is wont to say to this effect,— that the Plays which he has hitherto composed are poor in their language, and of meagre style: because he has nowhere described a frantic youth as seeing a hind in flight, and the hounds pursuing; while he implores[18] {and} entreated that he would give her aid. But if he had been aware that {his Play}, when formerly first represented, stood its ground more through the merits of the performers than its own, he would attack with much less boldness than he does. Now, if there is any one who says or thinks to this effect, that if the old Poet had not assailed him first, the young one could have devised no Prologue for him to repeat, without having some one to abuse, let him receive this for an answer: "that the prize is proposed in common to all who apply to the Dramatic art." He has aimed at driving our Poet from his studies to {absolute} want; he {then} has intended this for an answer, not an attack. If he had opposed him with fair words, he would have heard himself civilly addressed; what has been given by him, let him consider as {now} returned. I will make an end of speaking about him, when, of his own accord, he himself makes an end of offending. Now give your attention to what I request. I present you a new play, which they call "Epidicazomenos,"[19] in Greek: in the Latin, he calls it "Phormio;" because the person that acts the principal part is Phormio, a Parasite, through whom, principally, the plot will be carried on, if your favor attends the Poet. Lend your attention; in silence give an ear with impartial feelings, that we may not experience a like fortune to what we did, when, through a tumult, our Company was driven from the place;[20] which place, the merit of the actor, and your good-will and candor seconding it, has {since} restored unto us.



ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

Enter DAVUS,[21] with a bag of money in his hand.

DAV. Geta, my very good friend and fellow-townsman, came to me yesterday. There had been for some time a trifling balance of money of his in my hands upon a small account; {he asked me} to make it up. I have done so, {and} am carrying it to him. But I hear that his master's son has taken a wife; this, I suppose, is scraped together as a present for her. How unfair a custom! —that those who have the least should always be giving something to the more wealthy! That which the poor wretch has with difficulty spared, ounce by ounce, out of his allowance,[22] defrauding himself of every indulgence, the whole of it will she carry off, without thinking with how much labor it has been acquired. And then besides, Geta will be struck[23] for another present[24] when his mistress is brought to bed; and then again for another {present}, when the child's birthday comes; when they initiate him,[25] too: all this the mother will carry off; the child will {only} be the pretext for the present. But don't I see Geta there?

SCENE II.

Enter GETA, from the house of DEMIPHO.

GETA (at the door, to those within.) If any red-haired man should inquire for me—

DAV. (stepping forward.) Here he is, say no more.

GETA (starting.) Oh! Why I was trying {to come} and meet you, Davus.

DAV. (giving the money to GETA.) Here, take it; it's {all} ready counted out;[26] the number just amounts to the sum I owed you.

GETA. I am obliged to you; and I return you thanks for not having forgotten me.

DAV. Especially as people's ways are nowadays; things are come to such a pass, if a person repays you any thing, you must be greatly obliged to him. But why are you out of spirits?

GETA. What, I? You little know what terror and peril I am in.

DAV. What's the matter?

GETA. You shall know, if you can only keep it secret.

DAV. Out upon you, simpleton; {the man}, whose trustworthiness you have experienced as to money, are you afraid to intrust with words? In what way have I any interest in deceiving you?

GETA. Well then, listen.

DAV. I give you my best attention.

GETA. Davus, do you know Chremes, the elder brother of our old gentleman?

DAV. Why should I not?

GETA. Well, {and} his son Phaedria?

DAV. As well as your own self.

GETA. It {so} happened to both the old gentlemen, just at the same period, that the one had to take a journey to Lemnos, and our {old man} to Cilicia, to see an old acquaintance; he tempted over the old man by letters, promising {him} all but mountains of gold.

DAV. To one who had so much property, that he had more than he could use?

GETA. Do have done; that is his way.

DAV. Oh, {as for that}, I {really} ought to have been a man of fortune.

GETA. When departing hence, both the old gentlemen left me as a sort of tutor to their sons.

DAV. Ah, Geta, you undertook a hard task {there}.

GETA. I came to experience it, I know that. I'm quite sure that I was forsaken by my good Genius, who must have been angry with me.[27] I began to oppose them at first; {but} what need of talking? As long as I was trusty to the old men, I was paid for it in my shoulder-blades. This, then, occurred to my mind: why, this is folly to kick against the spur.[28] I began to do every thing for them that they wished to be humored in.

DAV. You knew how to make your market.[29]

GETA. Our {young fellow did} no mischief whatever at first; that Phaedria 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 Phaedria. Near the school at which she was taught, right opposite the place, there was a certain barber's shop: here we were generally in the habit of waiting for her, until she was coming home again. In the mean time, while {one day} we were sitting there, there came in a young man in tears;[31] we were surprised at this. We inquired what was the matter? "Never," said he, "has poverty appeared to me a burden so grievous and so insupportable as just now. I have just seen a certain poor young woman in this neighborhood lamenting her dead mother. She was laid out before her, and not a single friend, acquaintance, or relation was there with her, except one poor old woman, to assist her in the funeral: I pitied her. The girl herself was of surpassing beauty." What need of a long story? She moved us all. At once Antipho {exclaims}, "Would you like us to go and visit her?" The other {said}, "I think we ought— let us go— show us the way, please." We went, and arrived {there}; we saw her; the girl was beautiful, and that you might say so the more, there was no heightening to her beauty; her hair disheveled, her feet bare, herself neglected, and in tears; her dress mean, so that, had there not been an excess of beauty in her very charms, these circumstances must have extinguished those charms. The one who had lately fallen in love with the Music-girl said: "She is well enough;" but our {youth}—

DAV. I know it already— fell in love with her.

GETA. Can you imagine to what an extent? Observe the consequence. The day after, he goes straight to the old woman; entreats her to let him have her: she, on the other hand, refuses him, and says that he is not acting properly; that she is a citizen of Athens, virtuous, and born of honest {parents}: that if he wishes to make her his wife, he is at liberty to do so according to law; but if otherwise, she gives him a refusal. Our {youth} was at a loss what to do. He was both eager to marry her, and he dreaded his absent father.

DAV. Would not his father, if he had returned, have given him leave?

GETA. He let him marry a girl with no fortune, and of obscure birth! He would never do {so}.

DAV. What came of it at last?

GETA. What came of it? There is one Phormio here, a Parasite, a fellow of great assurance; may all the Gods confound him!

DAV. What has he done?

GETA. He has given this piece of advice, which I will tell you of. "There is a law, that orphan girls are to marry those who are their next-of-kin; and the same law commands such persons to marry them. I'll say you are the next-of-kin, and take out a summons[32] against you; I'll pretend that I am a friend of the girl's father; we will come before the judges: who her father was, who her mother, how she is related to you— all this I'll trump up, just as will be advantageous and suited to my purpose; on your disproving none of these things, I shall prevail, of course. Your father will return; a quarrel will be the consequence; what care I? She will still be ours."

DAV. An amusing piece of assurance!

GETA. He was persuaded to this. It was carried out; they came {into court}: we were beaten. He has married her.

DAV. What is it you tell me?

GETA. Just what you have heard.

DAV. O Geta, what will become of you?

GETA. Upon my faith, I don't know; this one thing I do know, whatever fortune may bring, I'll bear it with firmness.

DAV. You please me; well, that is the duty of a man.

GETA. All my hope is in myself.

DAV. I commend you.

GETA. Suppose I have recourse to some one to intercede for me, who will plead for me in these terms: "Pray, do forgive him this time; but if after this {he does} any thing, I make no entreaty:" if only he doesn't add, "When I've gone, e'en kill him {for my part}."

DAV. What of the one who was usher to the Music-girl?[33]

GETA (shrugging his shoulders.) So so, but poorly.

DAV. Perhaps he hasn't much to give.

GETA. Why, really, nothing at all, except mere hopes.

DAV. Is his father come back or not?

GETA. Not yet.

DAV. Well, when do you expect your old man?

GETA. I don't know for certain; but I just now heard that a letter has been brought from him, and has been left with the officers of the customs: I'm going to fetch it.

DAV. Is there any thing else that you want with me, Geta?

GETA. {Nothing; but} that I wish you well. (Exit DAVUS.) Hark you, boy (calling at the door). Is nobody coming out here? (A LAD comes out.) Take this, and give it to Dorcium. (He gives the purse to the LAD, who carries it into DEMIPHO'S house and exit GETA.)

SCENE III.

Enter ANTIPHO and PHAEDRIA.

ANT. That things should have come to such a pass, Phaedria, 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.

PHAED. 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 PHAEDRIA).

PHAED. I hear you.

ANT. While I am every moment expecting his return, who is to sever from me this connection.[34]

PHAED. 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, Phaedria, you now seem to me the fortunate man, who still have the liberty, without restraint, of resolving on what pleases you best: {whether} to keep, to love on, {or} to give her up. I, unfortunately, have got myself into that position, that I have neither right[35] to give her up, nor liberty to retain her. But how's this? Is it our Geta I see running this way? 'Tis he himself. Alas! I'm dreadfully afraid what news it is he's now bringing me.

SCENE IV.

Enter GETA, running, at the other side of the stage.

GETA (to himself.) Geta, you are undone, unless you instantly find out some expedient; so suddenly do such mighty evils now threaten me thus unprepared, which I neither know how to shun, nor how to extricate myself therefrom; for this daring step of ours can not now any longer be kept a secret. If such a result is not adroitly guarded against, these matters will cause the ruin of myself, or of my master.

ANT. (to PHAEDRIA.) 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 PHAEDRIA.) 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 PHAEDRIA.) 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?

PHAED. (to ANTIPHO.) He's mentioning your name.

ANT. (to PHAEDRIA.) I know not what great misfortune I expect to hear from this messenger.

PHAED. (to ANTIPHO.) Why, are you in your senses?

GETA (to himself.) I'll make my way homeward; he's generally there.

PHAED. (to ANTIPHO.) Let's call the fellow back.

ANT. (calling out.) Stop, this instant.

GETA (turning round.) Heyday— with authority enough, whoever you are.

ANT. Geta!

GETA. The very person I wanted to find.

ANT. Pray, tell me what news you bring and dispatch it in {one} word, if you can.

GETA. I'll do {so}.

ANT. Out with it.

GETA. Just now, at the harbor—

ANT. What, my {father}—?

GETA. You've hit it.

ANT. Ruined outright!

PHAED. Pshaw!

ANT. What am I to do?

PHAED. (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.

PHAED. That's true.

ANT. I can not change.

GETA. What would you do, if now something else still more difficult had to be done by you?

ANT. As I am not equal to this, I should be still less so to the other.

GETA. This is doing nothing at all, Phaedria, let's be gone; why do we waste our time here to no purpose. I shall be off.

PHAED. And I too. (They move as if going.)

ANT. Pray, now, if I assume an air, will that do? (He endeavors to assume another air.)

GETA. You are trifling.

ANT. Look at my countenance— there's for you. (Assuming a different air.) Will that do?

GETA. No.

ANT. Well, will this? (Assuming another air.)

GETA. Pretty well.

ANT. Well then, this? (Assuming a still bolder air.)

GETA. That's just the thing. There now, keep to that, and answer him word for word, like for like; don't let him, in his anger, disconcert you with his blustering words.

ANT. I understand.

GETA. {Say} that you were forced against your will by law, by sentence of the court; do you take me? (Looking earnestly in one direction.) But who is the old man that I see at the end of the street?

ANT. 'Tis he himself. I can not stand it. (Going.)

GETA. Oh! What are you about? Whither are you going, Antipho? Stop, I tell you.

ANT. I know my own self and my offense; to your management I trust Phanium and my own existence. (Exit hastily.

SCENE V.

PHAEDRIA and GETA.

PHAED. 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, Phaedria.

PHAED. Away with your "musts;" rather do you command me what I am to do.

GETA. Do you remember what were your words formerly on our entering upon this project, with the view of protecting yourselves from ill consequences— that their cause was just, clear, unanswerable, {and} most righteous?

PHAED. 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.

PHAED. 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.

PHAED. Very well. (They retire to a distance.)

SCENE VI.

Enter DEMIPHO, at the other side of the stage.

DEM. (to himself.) And is it possible that Antipho has taken a wife without my consent? and that no authority of mine— but let alone "authority"[38]— no displeasure of mine, at all events, has he been in dread of? To have no sense of shame! O audacious conduct! O Geta, {rare} adviser!

GETA (apart to PHAEDRIA.) Just {brought in} at last.

DEM. What will they say to me, or what excuse will they find? I wonder much.

GETA (apart.) Why, I've found that out already; do think of something else.

DEM. Will he be saying this to me: "I did it against my will; the law compelled me?" I hear {you, and} admit it.

GETA (apart.) Well said!

DEM. But knowingly, in silence, to give up the cause to his adversaries— did the law oblige him to do that as well?

GETA (apart.) That is a hard {blow}.

PHAED. 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 Phaedria, 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? (PHAEDRIA goes forward to accost DEMIPHO.)

DEM. (to himself.) I see Phaedria, my brother's son, coming toward me.

PHAED. My uncle, welcome!

DEM. Greetings to you; but where is Antipho?

PHAED. That you have arrived in safety——

DEM. I believe it; answer my question.

PHAED. He is well; he's close at hand; but is every thing quite to your wishes?

DEM. I wish it was so, indeed.

PHAED. What's the matter?

DEM. Do you ask me, Phaedria? You {people} have cooked up a fine marriage in my absence.

PHAED. 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.

PHAED. 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.

PHAED. 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, Phaedria, have stood up for him.

PHAED. 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?

PHAED. 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}.