^^^^Bt/tT' , ' ' '■ , ' : ■' 1 i i • i GIFT OF / THE COMEDIES OF .T E R E N C E. AM) * THE FABLES OFJHiiDEUS. - ITERALLY TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH PROSE WITH NOTES, Et KEXEY THOMAS EILEY, B.A. LATK SCHOLAR Or CLABE HALL, CAKBBIDGB. TO ■WHICH IS ADDED i METRICAL TRANSLATION OF TILEDRUS, By CHRISTOPHER SMART, A.M. >ONrON ; GEORGE BELL & SONS, YORK STREET, CO VENT G.UiDEN. 1891. ^^ CilAKI.NG CKOSS. In tins Version of the Plays of Terence tlio Text t AolbL-lir, 18 1(), has been followed, with the few iccptions raeutioued iu the Notes. The Translator has endeavonrotl to convey faithfully le meaning of the author, and although not rigorously teral, he has, he trusts, avoided such wide departures ■om the text, as are found in the versions of Echard, coke, Patrick, and Gordon. In the Translation of Phuedrus, the Critical Edition y Orellius, 1831, has been used, and in the ^sopian 'ables, the text of the Parisian Edition of Gail, 182G. 'he Notes will, it is believed, be found to embody the ttle that is known of the contemporary history of 16 Author. II. T. R. ^IcfiGl C N T E N T 3. COMEDIES OF TEHENCE, Andria; OB THE Fair Andriak ■^^' Y-EUNUCHUS; OR THE EUNUCH y*^ , . • / • S[^ HEAnXONTIMORCMENOS ; OR THE SeLF-TORJIENTOB Ir V.ADELPHI; OR THE BROTHERS HeCYRA; THE MOTHER-IN-LAW .... ^PaOKMlO; OB IHK bCHElllJiG PaRASITE Fable I. 11. III. IV. V. VI. Vll. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. THE FABLES OF PH.^DRUS. Book I. Prolosrue The Wolf and the Lamb The Frogs asking for a King The vain Jackdaw and the Peacock The Dog carrying some Meat across a River The Cow, the She-Goat, the Sheep, and the I The Frogs' complaint auainst the Sun The Fox and the Tragic Mask The Wolf and the Crane The Sparrow and the Hare ... The Wolf, the Fo.x, and the Ape The Ass and the Lion hunting The Stag at the Stream The Foi and the Raven The Cobbler turned Physicinn The Ass and the Old Sliephcrd The Stag, the Sheep, and the Wolf .. The Sheep, the Dog, and the Wolf ., Prose. Ver:^ 3G5 4 7? 365 472 366 4 74 367 4 7.' River 308 4 7{ the Lion 368 4 7( 369 47( 369 47! 370 473 370 47J 371 4 7( 371 4 7( 372 4 7< 372 4S( 373 4S( 373 48; 374 At<- ■••. 37 4 4^; CONTENTS. rr.i«e. Vt The Womnn in I^nhour The Hit.h ami hvr \\ h.lps Tlu- luiniiry l)oi;s The iii;t> 487 381 487 III. IV. V. VI. \ II. VIII. fable I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. ^III. IX. X. XI. XII. Book II. Prolosrue ... The Lion, the Rohher, and the Traveller Two Women of tliHerent Ages beloved by the Midiile-aged Man The Man and the Dog The Eagle, the Cat. and the Sow C'fejar to the Chamberlain The Easle, the Crow, and the Tortoisj The Mules and Robbers The Stag and the Oxen Epilogue Book III. Prologue, to Eutychus The Old Woman and the Cask The Panther and Sliepherd Esop and the Farmer ... The Buteher and the Ape .... "* .... Esop and the Insolent Man .... The Fly and the Mule "' The Dog and the Wolf ... The Brother and Sister Socrates to his Friends _ The Poet on Believing and not Believing The Cock and the Pearl The Bees and the Drones, the Wasp sitting as ju'lge Esoj) at plav The Dog to he Lamb .... 382 488 383 488 383 489 384 489 384 490 385 491 386 492 387 492 .•i87 493 388 494 3"0 49" o93 498 394 498 395 — 395 499 395 499 396 499 397 500 398 501 398 502 399 502 401 504 402 505 402 505 403 506 vi COXTEXTS. XV. Tlie Grasshopper and the Onl XV'I. The Trees under the Protection of the Goda .... XVII. The Peacock to Juno XVIII. Esop's Answer to the Inquisitive Man Epilogue Book IV. PrologTie Fable I. The Ass and the Priests of Cybele II. The Weasel and th^! Mice .... ..... III. The Fo.\ and the Grajies IV. The Horse and the Wild Boar V. Esop interpreting a Will VI. The Battle of the Mice and the Weasels VII. Tiie Poet's Defence against the Censurers of his Fables VIII. The Viper and the File IX. The Fox and tlie Goat X. Of the Vices of Men XI. A Thief pilla^in^ the Altar of Jupiter XII. Hercules and Plutus .... XI 11. Tlie Lion reigning XIV. Prometheus XV. The She-Goats and their Beards XVI. The Pilot and the Mariners XVII. The Embassy of the Dogs to Jupiter .... XVIII. Tlie Man and the Snake XIX. The Fo.\ and the Dragon XX. Phsedrus XXI. The Sliipwreck of Simonides .... XXII. The Jlountain in Labour XXIII. The .\nt and the Fly XXIV. Simonides preserved by the Gods Epilogue Book V. Proloiiue Fable I. Demetrius and Menander II. The Travellers and tne Robber III. The B.ild Man and the Fly IV. Tlie Man and the Ass V. Tlie Butloon and Countryman VI. The Two B:.ld Men VII. Princeps the Flute Player VIH. The Emlilein of Opportunity .... IX. The Bull and the Calf X. The Huntsman and the Dog .... Prose Verse. 404 507 405 ju-- 405 Olr.i 405 509 407 — 409 510 410 SOU 411 510 111 511 411 511 412 512 413 514 414 514 415 515 415 51/. 416 51 r, , 41G 517 1 417 517 417 — 418 — 418 518 419 518 419 — 420 519 421 519 422 520 422 520 423 522 424 522 425 523 426 524 427 52r, 427 52 7 4 28 528 4 29 529 429 529 429 530 431 532 431 532 433 534 433 534 433 53: CONTI.NTS. VU The Nr.w Fmii.f.s — Arnmii'TF.D to PiLKniu's. 'lie I. The Ape nnd the Fox 11. The Author III. Mercury iiiul the two Women .... IV. Prometheus and Cunning ^'. 'I'he Author \\. The siciiitieation of the Punishments of T.irfaius VII. The Author VIII. .ICsop and the .\uthor .... l.\. Ponijieius Ma;;nus and his SoKlier X. Juno, Venus', and the Hen XI. The Father of u Family and .Tlsop XII. Tlie PhiKisopher and the Victor in the Gymnastic Games XIII. The Ass and the Lyre XIV. The Widow and the Sohlier XV. The Hi.h Suitor and the Poor One XVI. iEsop and his Mistress .... XVII. .\ Cork carried in a Litter by Cats XV 1 1 1. Tlie >o\v hringin^ forth and the \NoIf .... XIX. The Runaway Slave and .ililsop ... XX. The Chariot Horse sold for the Mill .... XXI. The Hunsry Bear XXII. The Traveller and the Raven XXIII. The Shepherd and the She-Goat XXIV. The Serpent and the Lizard XXN'. The Crow and the Sheep XXVI. The Servant and the Master X\VIL The Hare and the Herdsman XXVI 1 1. The Young Man and the Courtesan XXI X. The Beaver XXX. The Butterfly and the Wasp XXXI. The Ground-Swallow and the Fox Epilogue.... .-EsOPI.KN FaPLES — THE AUTHORS OF WHICH ARE NOT ICNOWN. Fable I. The Sick Kite , II. The Hares tired of Life III. Jupiter and the Fox .... <-.. IV. The Lion and the Mouse V. The Man and the Trees... VI. The Mouse and the Frog VIL The Two Cocks and flje Hawk... VIII. The Snail and the .\pe IX. The City Mouse and the Country Mouse X. The .Ass fawning upon his Master XI. The Crane, the C"row, and the Countryman XII. The Birds and the Swallow CONTEXTS*. XI TT. The Partridge and the Fox XIV. fhe Ass, the Ox, and the Birds XV. The Lion and the Shephera XVI. The Gnat and the Bull XVII. The Horse and the Ass .... XV I II. The Birds, the Beasts, and the Bat .... XIX. The Nightingale, the Hawk, and the Fowler XX. The Wolf, the Fo.x, and the Shepherd.... X^. The Sheep and the Wolves XXII. The Ape and the Fox XXIII. The Wolf, the Huntsman, and the Shepherd XXIV. The Truthful Man, the Liar, and the Apes X.X.V. The Mail and the Lion XXVI. The Stork, the Goose, and the Hawk .... XXVII. The Sheep and the Crow XXVIII. The Ant and the Grasshopper .... XXIX. The Horse and the Ass XXX. The Old Lion and the Fox XXXI. The Camel and the Flea XXXII. The Kid and the Wolf XXXIII. The Poor Man and the Serpent XXX IV. The Kagle and the Kite .... 4G0 461 4G1 462 462 468 4 6 1 ■111 I 4(i.') 4t)5 466 467 467 468 468 469 469 469 t70 470 471 TnR TITLE OF TflE PLAY. Performed at the M..,o:alon.sian Games;' M. F,.lvins an.I Liu-ms At.hus rnv.u.sti,u..s3 pcrfonned it. Fiac • s e .ve. .nan ot C auaiu.s/ oon.po.socl the mu.sic, to a air 7f treble riutesaiul bass flutes' alternately. And it is euUrely ' The Mefinleiman ^'awM)— These trames were insfifnfn^ „♦ t^ n honour of the Goddcs. Cvbele. when her tatae,"'oi.f,. lu^ from re*.M.unn. in Asia Minor, by Scipio \asica ev v.r" u"\ w"" ''irM^T^^'/'-'" ^W'"^ •'''-'r''t.:e'^G'rearyX..^ ^? ^ were called Mesjjilesia or Megalens^ia, indifferentlv. A very intero./ M kTI loJl'^tr '''"'" '""" '"' '' '■""' i'^ th^ ;U; o7ovi"cf » ie/Msr (7Mr«/e lf;i("\o/C/aiulius)- According to some, the words " Placcus Uaudi mean "the son of Claudius." It i», however, r.^ore irenerillv thought that >t IS thereby meant that he was the freednum or libcTa ted blave ot some Roman noble of ihe family of-fhe Claudii '"^^'-ii^'i .nH^r'''^'-(("'?K"/"'^-'' Air(li ; and she liavinc: become pregnant, he jrivos his word tliat slie siiall be his wife; but iiis fatlior iia.s enijai,'cd for him another, tlie daiiirbter of Ciiremes; and when he discovers tiie intrigue he pretemls that the nuptials are about to t;ike place, desiring to learn what intentions his son may have. By the advice ot Davus, Painphilus does not resist; but Chrenies, as soon as he has seen the little child bora of Glycerium, breaks off the match, and declines him for a sou inlaw. Afterwards, this Glycerium, unex- pectedly discovered to b'' his own daughter, he bestows as a wife ou Pampiiilus, the other ou L'hariuus. TIIE PROLOGUE. The Poet, when fir.st ho applied his mind to -wTiting, thouijlit that the only duty which ilL'\olved on him was, tliat the Plays he should compose might plea.'^e tlie public. But he per- ••eives that it ha.s talleu out entirely otherwise; for he is wasting his labour in writing Prologxies, not for the piu-pose of relating the plot, but to answer the slanders of a malevolent old Poet.' Now I beseech you, give your attention to the thing whieli they impute as a fault. Meuander composed tlie Andrian' ' A malevolent old Poet) — Ver. 7. He "alludes to Luscus Lanuvinus, or Lavinius, a Comic Poet of his time, but considerably his senior. lie in mentioned by Terence in all his Prologues except that to the Hecyra, iud seems to have luade it thejtusinesa of his life to run down hie productions and discover faults in them. - Composed the Andrian) — Ver. 9. This Play, like that of our author, took its uame from the Isle of Andros, one of the Cyclades iu the Ji^can Sea, where Glycerium is supposed to have been born. Donatus, the Commentator on Terence, informs us that the first Scene \ tills Play is almost a literal trauslatiou from the Periuthiau of Meuander G AXDRIA ; Act I aucl the Peimtliian.' He who knows either ol them well vn\\ know them both ; they are in plot not very different and yet they have been composed in different language and style. What suited, he confesses he has ti-ausferred into the Andrian from the Perinthian, and has employed them as his own. These pai-ties censure this proceeding, and on this point they differ //•(?»? him, that Plays ought not to be mixed up together. By being thus kno^^-ing, do they not show that they know nothing at all? For white'' they are censuring him, they are censuring Nje%-ius, Plautus, and Enniu.s,* whom our Foet has for his precedents ; whose care- lessness he prefers to emulate, rather than the mystifying care- I'ulness' of those jiai-ties. Therefore, I advise them to be quiet in future, and to cease to slander; that tliey may not be made acquainted with their own misdeeds. Be well disposed, then ; attend with unbiassed mind, and consider the matter, that you may determine what hope is left ; wliether the Plays which he shall in future compose anew, are to be wit- nessed, or are rather to be driven off the stage. ACT THE FIRST. [ Scene I. Unter SiMO and SosiA, fuUowed hy Serv.ajn'ts carrying provisions. SiMO. {to the Servants.) Do you carry those things away in-doors ; begone. (Beckoning to SosiA.) Sosia, just step here ; I want a few words with you. in wliieh the old man was represented as di.scoursing witli his wife just, as Simo docs here with Sosia. In the Andrian of Menander, the ohl man opened with a soliloquy. And the Perinthian) — Ver 9. This Play was so called from Perinthus, a town of Thrace, its heroine being a native of that place. =* Na>v ux, Plaittiif, and £nniui!)—Ver. IS. Enuius was the oldest ol these three Poets. Ntevius was a contemporary of Plautus. See a proba- ble allusion to his misfortunes in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus.1.211. 3 The inyMifiiing careful ne-^s) — Ver. '21. By "obscuram diligentiam''' be means that formal degree of precision which is productive of obscurity. S- I. T11F, KAIU ANniU.VK. 7 SusiA. L'tmsidiT it as said ; that tliesc tliin;^s ;uc to bo taken o;u*o ot". I supjtDSf.' Sim. No, it's auotlier inatttT. Sos. What is there tliat uiy ability can effect for you moro than this r Sim. There's no need of that ability in the matter which I have in hand ; but of those i/ualifies which 1 have ever known as existing in you, fidelity and secrecy. Sos. I await your will. Sim. Sinc4.' I jiurcha.scd you. you kiinw that, from a liltlc child, your servitude with me has always been easy and li;:lit. From a slave I made you my freedman ;* for this reason, liecause you si-rved me with readiness. The greatest recom- j»euse that I ])os.sessed, I bestowed ujion you. Sos. I Var it in mind. Sim. I am not changed. t>os. If I have done or am doinjr au<;ht that is pleasing to you, Simo, I am glad that it has been done ; and that the same has been gratifying to you, I consider sujpcitnt thanks. But this is a cause of uneasiness to me; for the recital is, as it were, a censure' to one forgetful of a kindness. IJut tell me, in one word, what it is that you want with me. Sim. ril do so. In the first place, in this affair I give yi>u notice : this, which you suj)pose to be such, is not a real marriage. Sos. Why do you ]>retend it then? Sim. You shall hear all the matter from the beginning l»y that meims youll be acquainted with both ni}' son's mode ' Art to be taken care of, I sui'/Ktae) — Ver 30. " Nempe ut curentur rocte htec." Colman here rcniaikei ; " ih^damc Dacicr will have it that *>imo here ma es use of a kitclien term in the word ' cureutur." I believe it rather means 'to take eare oi^ anything gene;ally: and at the conclu.sion of this very scene. .Sosiauses tlie word again, speaking of things very foreign to cookery. ' Sat est, cumbo.'" ^ To be vuj j'n'edman) — \'GT.Z'. '• Libcrtus" was the name gi^en to a slave set at liberty by his master. A "iibertinus" was the son ot a " libertus." ^ As iiwt: re a couture) — Ver. 43. Among the Greeks (whose manners and sentiments are supposed to ije depicted in this I'lay) itwasa nia.xini that he who did a kindness should forget it. while he who reieiv-d it chnuld keep it in memory. Sosia con.sequently feels uneasy, and oaaaidera the remark of his m;ister in the light yt a rc^iroach. 3 AKDRIA ; Acrt I. of life and mj own design, and wliat I want you to do in this affair. For after he had passed yoiithfulness,' Sosia, and had obtained free scope of livini;, (for before, how could you know or untlerstand his disposition, while youthful age, fear, and a master^ were checking himr) Sos. That's tiiie. A Sim. What all young men, for the most part, do. — devote (their attention to some particular pui-suit, either to traiuiuLj lioi-ses or dogs for hunting, or to the philoso]ihei-s ;' in not one I of these did he engage in particular beyond the rest, and yet in all of them in a moderate degree. I was pleased. Sos. Not without reason ; for this I deem in life to be especially advantageous ; that one Jo nothing to excess.* Sim. Such was his mode of life ; readily to beai- and to comply with all ; with whomsoever he was in company, to them to resign himself; to devote himself to their pursuits-; at variance with no one; never preferring himself to them. Thus most readily you may acquire praise without en\y, anuth. Sos. Ah! I'm alViiiil that this Aixhiaii will Uiiiig soii»o mischitvf. Sim. At £r-?+., ia a nioiU'st way, she pissed her litb with .hril"ti:iessaii(l in hanlsf.ip. seeking a livelihood with her wool uid loom. I>ut after an admirer made advanees, promisiiiL,' ner a reet>mj)ense, firsf one ami then another; as the disposi- tion of iUl mankind has a downward temleney from industry! towards j)leasure, she aceepted their })ro|)os;ds, aiul theul U'irau to trade upon her bcuuli/. Tiiose who then wei'e her ■ admirers, by ehanee, as it oflni happens, took my son thither that he might be in their eomfKiny. Forthwith I said to myself, " He is surely eaught ; he is smitten."' In the morning I used to observe their servant-boys coming or going away ; I useil to make enquiiy, " Here, my lad, tell me, will you, who had yiy^iiigvesterday r" for that was the name of the Andrian {touching feosiA on the arm). Sos. I undei-stand. Si.\[. PhaHlnis, or Clinias, or Niceratus, they used to say; for these three then loved her at the same time. " Well now. what(//(/ Pamphilus (/«.''" "What? He gave his contribution;' he took part iii the dinner." Just so on another day I made inquiry, but I di.scovered nothing whatever that affected Pamphilus. In fact, I thought him sufficiently proved, and a great pattern of continence; for he who is brought into Author has artfully said three years, when he might have given a longer or a sliorter period ; since it is proh.ihle that the woman might liavc lived modestly one year; set up the trade the next; and died the thini. In the tirst year, therefore, i'ampiiilus knew nothing of the family of Chrysis ; in the second, he bewme acquainted with Glycerium ; and in the third, Glycerium marries I'araphilus, and finds her parents." '-" He is smitten) — Ver. 78. " Ilabet," literally "He has it." Thi.s was the expression used by the spectators at the moment when a Gladiator was wounded by his antagonist. In the previous line, in the words "captus est," a figurative allusion is made to the " retiarius," a Gladiator who was provided with a net, with which he endeavoured to entangle his opponent. - Gave hin coiitrihtttion) — Ver. 88. "Symbolara." The " .symhohie," "shot" at pie-nic or clui) cntert;iiiiments, are more than once alluded to in the Notes to the TrausUiliou ot i'lauius. lO AJTDRIA ; A.ct L contact with dispositions of that sort, and his feelings are not aroused even under such circumstances, you may be sure that he is already cai)able of undertaking the governance of his own life. This pleased me, and everybody with one r voice began to say all kinds of flattering things, and to extol my good fortune, in having a son endowed \\\t\i such a dis- I position. What need is there of talking? Chremes, in- fluenced by this report, came to me of his owai accord, to ofier his only daughter as a wife to my son, with a very large portion. It pleased me ; I betrothed him ; this was the day appointed for the nuptials. Sos. What then stands in the way ? Why should they not take place ? Sim. You shall hear. In about a few days after these things had been agreed on, Cluysi-s, this neighbour, dies. Sos. Bmvo ! You've made me happy. I was afraid for him on account of Chiysis. Sim. Then my .son was often there, with those who had admired Chrysis ; with them he took charge of the funeral : 6orro^v^ul, in the meantime, he sometimes wept with tlirm in condolence. Then that pleased me. Thus I reflected : \ " He by reason of this slight intimacy takes her death so much to heart ; what if he himself had wooed her ? What vn\\ he do for me his father ?" All these things I took to be the duties of a humane disposition and of tender feehngs. Wliy do I detain you with many words ? Even I myself,^ for his sake, went forth to the fimei-al, as 3'et suspecting no harm. Sos. Ha ! what is this ? Sim. You shall know. She is brought out ; we proceed. In the meantime, among the females who were there present, I saw by chance one young woman of beauteous form. Sos. Very likely. Sim. And of countenance, Sosia, so modest, so charming, that nothing could sur})a,ss. As sheajipeared to me to lament beyond the rest, and as she was of a tigiire handsome and genteel beyond the other women, I approached the female ^ Even I mysel/) — Ver. 116. Cooke rcm.irks here : " A complais.iav father, to go to the funeral of a courtesan, merely to oblige his Sf fern lie children. Plato was the first to inveigh against this barbarous practice. It is frequently alluded to in the I'lays of Plautus. ■' Hence to the Forum)— \cv. '226. Colman has the following remark : " The Forum is frequently spoken of in the Comic Authors ; and from various passages in which Terence mentions it. it may be collected that It was a public place, serving the several purposes of a market, the seat of the coufWi of justice, a public walk, and au cxcLauye." I^ A^DRIA : Act 1. you already, Arcliylis ; you rtnjuest LesWa to be fetched. Eeally, upon my faith, she is a wine-bibbing* and a rash woman, and not sufficiently trustworthy for you to commit to her care a female at her first deliveiy ; is she still to be brought ? (She receives an answer from icithin, and comes forward.) Do look at the ineonsiderateness of the ok. woman ; because she is her pot-companion. Ye Gods, I do entreat you, give her ease in her deliveiy, and to that woman an opportunity of making her mistakes elsewhere in preference. But why I de see Pamphilus so out of spirits ? I fear what it may be. I'll wait, that I may know whether this sorrow ]>oi-tends any disaster. (Stands ajaart.) Scene V. "Enter Pamphilus, ivringing Ins hands. Pam. ito himself.) Is it humane to do or to devise this ? Is this the duty of a father r Mys. (apart.) What does this mean ? Pam. (to himself) 0, by our faith in the Gods! wliat is, if this is not, an indignity ? He had resolved that he him- self would give me a wife to-day ; ought I not to have kno\sTi this beforehand ? Ought it not to have been men- tioned previously ? Mys. (ajmrt.) Wretched me! Wliat language do I hear? Pam. (to himself.) What r/o^-s Chremes f/o / He who had de- clai'ed that he would not entrust his daughter to me as a wile ; because he hijuself sees me unchanged he has changed. Thus perversely does he lend his aid, that he may ^^-ithdl-aw wi-etched me from Glycerium. If this is eftected, I am utterly mdone. That any man should be so unhappy in love, or so unfortunate as I am I Oh, faith of Gods and men! shall I "by no device be able to esca])e this alliance ^\^th Chremes ? In liow many ways atn I contemned, and held in scorn ? Everything done, and concluded! Alas! once rejected I iuii sought again ; for what reason ? Unless perhaps it is this, • Wine-bibbing) — Ver. 229. The nurses and midwives of antiquity Ecem to have been famed for their tippling propensities. In some of the riavB of Plautus we do not find them spared. \' So. V. THE FAIK ANDIUAM. 17 wliioh I suspect it is: tlu-y aiv n'.'iriuijj some nionstor.' and as slu* cannot be pushed vtY uj)(>n any one tLsr, tliev have i-uoiJUi-se to me. Mys. {apart.) This language has terrilied wr-ti luil nie %v'ith apjuvliension. r.v.M. {fo himttflf.) But what am I to say ahiKit my lather? Ahi*>I that he shouUl so thoughtlessly eonelude an allUir of such importance! Passing me in the Forum just now, he sjiid, "ramphilus, you must hemarriitl to-day : get ready j be off home." lie seemed to me to say this : " Be off this instant, juid go hang yoursell"." I was amazed; tliink you that I was able to utter a single word, or any excuse, even a frivolous, false, or lame one? I was speechless. But if any one were to ask me now what I would have done, if I had kno^^^^ this sooner, irhy, I would have done anything rather than do this. But now, what course sIkiU I first adopt? So many cjires beset me, which rend my mind to i pieces ; love, sympathy for her, the woriy of this marriag?^ ; then, respect for my father, who h:vs ever, until now, with such an indulgent disposition, allowed me to do wliatever was agreeable to my feelings. Ought I to oppose him? Ah me I I am in uncertainty what to do. Mys. {apart.) I"m \\Tetcludly afraid how this uncertainty IS to terminate. But now theres an absolute necessity, either for him to si)eak to her, or for me to speak to him al)out her. While the mind is in suspense, it is swayed by a slight impulse one way or the other. Pam. {orcrhcarin(f her.) Who is it speaking here? {Seeing her.) Mysis? Good morrow to you. Mys. O ! Good morrow to you, Pamphilus. Pam. How is she? Mys. Do you aok? She is ojjjjre.ssed with gricf,^ and on this account the poor thing is anxious, because some time ' Rearing some mo7i.iter) — Ver. 2f0. "Aliquid monstri ahmt." M.idame Dacier and some other Commentators jrive these vords the r.ulier far-fetched meaning iuiA ; Act I., Sc. V. ago the marriage was arranged for this day. Then, too, she fears this, that jon may forsalce her. Pam. Ha! could I attempt that? Could I suffer her, poor thing, to be deceived on my account? She, who has con- fided to me her affection, and her entire existence? She, ^vhom I have held especially dear to my feolings as my wife? ^luiU I suffer her mirid, well and chastely t .^med and tutored, to be overcome by poverty and cori-upted? I will not do it. Mys. I should have no fear if it rested -with yourself alone; but whether you may be able to withstand compulsion Pam. Do you deem me so cowardly, so utterly ungi-ateful, inhuman, and so bnitisli, that neither intimacy, nor affection, nor shame, can move or admonish me to keep faith? Mys. This one thing I know, that she is deserving that you should not forget her. Pam. Forget her? Oh Mysis, Mysis, at this moment are those words of Chrysis concerning Glycerium ^vl•itten on my mind. Now at the point of death, she called me ; ^jK#nt to her; you had ^vithdra^vn ; we were alone ; she begaiyL'" ^Jy dear Pamphilus, you see her beauty and her i/outh ; ancl it is not unkno^vTi to you to what extent both of these are now of use to her, in protecting both her chastity and her inte- rests. By this right hand I do entreat you, and by your good Genius,' by your OAvn fidelity, and by her bereft condi- Colman has the following remark upon this passage: "Though the word 'laborat' has tempted Donatus and the rest of the Com- mentators to suppose that tliis sentence signifies Glycerium being in labour, I cannot help concurring with Cooke, that it means simply that she is weighed down with grief. The words immediately subse- quent corroborate this interpretation; and at the conclusion of the Scene, when Mysis tells him that she is going lor a midwife. Pamphilus hurries her away, as he would naturally have done here had he under- stood by these words that her mistress was in labour." ' Bij yoitr good Genius) — Ver. 2S9. " I'er Genium tuum." This waa a common expression with the Itomans, and is used by Horace, Epistles, B. i., Ep. 7 :— " Quod te per Genium dextramque Deosque Penates, Obsecro, et obtcstor '' The word " Genius" signified the tutelary God who was su))posed to attend every person from the period of his birtli. The signitication oi the word will be found further referred to iu the Notes to the Trai>»- btiou of I'hiutus. Alt H.,Si-. 1. Tin: FAIU ANniUAN. 19 lion, ilo mit witlulraw yuursilf from lu-r, or foi^siiko licrl if 1 liavf loved you as my own InotluT, or if slio Ills atwjivs j>riz«'(l you aliove all others, or has i)eeii olteilient to you in all thini^. You do I give to her as a Iuisl>and, friend, pro- 'cetor, father. This projK^jty of uiine do I entrust «o you, and ei>mmit to your eare.^^ Sije placed her in my hajids ; that instant, death eame iqmn her. 1 accepted her; having accepted, I will protect her. Mvs. So inhilus, nothinuj. Pam. How mucii I \\k\\ j/ou had. Char. Now, by our iriemlship and by my afiectiou, I do besiveeh you, in the tirst j)laee, not to marry her. 1'am. For my own j>art I'll use my endeavours. Char. But if that ctumot be, or if this mai'riage is agree- able to you Pam. Atn'eortble to me? Ch.\I{. Put it off for some days at least, while I go else- where, that I may not be witness. Pam. Now listen, once for all : I think it, Charinus, to be by no means the part of an ingenuous man. when he confers nothing, to expect that it should be considered as an obli- gation on his part. I am more dosix'ous to avoid this match, than you to gain it. ^ *v c Char. You have restored me to life. *^^ ' ^^ Pam. Now, if you can do anything, either you yourself, or Byrrhia here, manage, taltricate, invent, contrive Nonie vieantt, wiui-eby she may be given to you; this I shall aim at, how she may not be given to me. Char, I am siitisfied. P.\M. ]Mo3t opportunely I perceive Davns, on "whose alo from this a|i]>ri'li(iisi()ii. Dav. Will, tlu'ii, 1 will n-lt'iiso you ; C'luciiu-.s i.s not ^oim^ to jjivo you liis tlaui;litor at juvsi-nt. Pam. How do you know? 1)av. You shall know. Your lathor just now laid hohl of nu- ; ln' s;ii(l that a wifo wa.s to be pvi-n you to-day, and many otlu-r tliinirs a.s wi-ll. which just now I haven't time to relate. Hivstenini; to you immeiliately, I ran on to the Fonun that I miirht tell you these things. When I didn't find you, I a.seended there to a liigh place.* I looked ai*onnd ; you were nowhere. There l>y chance I saw Byrrhia. his servant [poiutiirj^ to CllAKINrs). I enquired of him; he Siiid he hadn't seen you. This puzzled me. I consi- dered what I was to do. As I was returning in the mean- time, a surmise from the circum.stances themselves occurred to me: '"How now, — a very small amount of good cheer; he out of spirits; a marriage all of a sudden; these things don't agree." Pam. But to what purjiose this? Dav. I forthwith betook myself to the house of Chremes. When I arrived there — stillness before the door;* then I wa« .pleased at thai. Chaii. You say well. Pam. Proceed. Dav. I stopped there. In the meantime I saw no one goin? in. no one going out ; no matron at the house,^ no j)reparation, no bustle. I drew near; looked in To a high place^ — Ter. 356. He prol^ably alludes to some part of the Acropolis, the citadel, or higher part of Athens, which couiiuanded a new of the lower town. , -' Stillness before the door) — Ver. 362. Madame Dacier observes that this remark is very approi>riately made'hy Davus. as .«howing that the marriage was clearly not intended liy Chronics. The hou.se of the hride on such an occasion would be thronged by her friend.--, and at the door would (>e the musicians and those who were to form part of the bridal procession. ^ Xu matron at the hovse) — Ver. 364. By the use of the word " matrona." he probably alludes to the " pronul.re" among the Koniaus, whose duties were somewhat similar to those of our briile's-niaiiis. At the completion of the bridal repast, the l)ride was conducted to the bridal chamber bymatro:ui who had not had more than one hu.-^bai.cL 24 ANPRiA ; Act II. Paji. I understand ; a considerable indication. Dav. Do these tliinijs seem to accord with a wedding? Pam. I think not, Da\-us. Dav. Think, do you say ? You don't view it riohtly : the thing is certain. Besides, coming away from there I saw the servant-boy of Chromes carrying smne vegetables and little fishes, an ^bf)rs worth,' for the old man's dinner. Guar. This day, Davus, have I been delivered by your means. Dav. And yet not at all. Char. Why so? Surely he will not give her to him, after all this. {Poinfiufi to Pamphilus.) Dav. You silly fellow ! as though it were a necessary consequence that if he doesn't give her to him you should marry her : unless, indeed, you look about you ; unless you entreat and make court to the old man's frieiuls. Char. Yoii advise well. I'll go; although, upon my faith, this hope has often eluded me already. Farewell ! {Exit. Scene IV. Pamphilus and Davus. PA:\r. What then does my tathei mean ? ^^Iiy does he thus make pretence ? Dav. I'll tell you. If now he were angry icith you, because Chremcs will not give you a wife, he would seem to himself to be unjust, and that not without reason, before he has ascei-tained your feelings as to the marriage, how they are disposed. But if you refuse to marry her, in that ca.se he will transfer the blame to you ; then such di.'iturbanc-es will ari.se. ■\ Pam. I ^\^ll submit to an}*thing /"ro?;? Iiim. Dav. He is your lather. Pamphilus. It is a difficult mat- fter. Besides, this woman is defenceless. No sooner said ' An ohol's vorth) — Ver. 3G9. The "obolus" was the smallest Greek silver coin, and ivas equal in value to abpv.t three halfpence ofourmonev. " Pisciciili niinuti," " little fish," were much used for food among the poorer classes; " nicna," a fish resemhlina; our i>ilchv»rd, was a common article of food wiih the Komaus. The larger kinds of fish went under tho general name of " cetum." Si'. TV. TIIK FAIK ANDKIAN. J?.*) than (lone; lie will find some pretext for drivinij lur away iVoui the eity. Tam. Drivini; her away "r* 1)av. Ji/t\ anil (luukly too. Pam. Tell nie then, l)avus, what am I to ilo ? Day. Say that you will marry her. 1*AM. {shirfiiKj.) Ha! Day. ^^'hat■s'the matter? Tam. What, am I to s;iy so ? Pay. Why not? Pam. NeYer will T do it. I>AV. Don't sjiy no. Pam. Don't attempt to persnado mo. Day. Consider what will he the result of it. Pam. That I shall be deprived of the one, and fixed with the other. Day. Not so. Tn fact, I think it will be thus: Your father will say: "I wish you to marry a wife to-day." You rejtly: "I'll many her." Tell me, how can he raise a quarrel with yon ? Thus you will cause all the plans which are now, aiT-anged by him to be disarranged, without any danger; for! this is not to lie doubted, that Chreniesjidll-»ot gire yoit his daughter. TIierefoi'e~"(To~ior hesvEate in those measures which you are taking, on this account, lest he should change his sentiments. Tell yoiir father that you consent; ss that although he may desire it, he may not be able to be aniny at \-ou ^\^th reason. For that which you rely on, I will ea.sily refute ; "No one,'\i/ou think, "will give a Avife to a peraoii o/" these habits." But he will find a beggar for you. rather than allow you to be cornipted hy a mistress. If, however, he shall believe that you bear it vrith a contented mind, you will render liim inditl'erent; at his leisure lu' wJU look out for another icij'e for i/oii ; in the meantime somethiijg lucky may tm-u up. t*\yi.. Do you think so ? Day. It really is not a matter of doul it. Pam. Consider to what^yo" ai'e jiersuading me. Day. Nay, but do be quiet. I'am. Well, I'll say it ; but, that he mayn't come to know that she has had a child by me, is a thing to be gutu'ded against; for I have pruiauie d to brin g it uj). Day. O, piece'of ellrontery ! " ~ 26 AXDRiA ; Act II, Pam. She entreated me that I would give her tliis pledge, Ly -which she might be sure she should not be desei-ted. Dav. It shall be attended to ; but your father's coming. Take care that he doesn't perceive that you are out of spiiits. Scene V. Enter SiJio, at a distance. Sim. {apart to Tiimself.) I've come back to see what thev are about, or what scheme they are hatching. Dav. {to Pami'HILUS.) He has no doubt at pi*esent but that you'll refuse to many. Having considered liis course, he's come from a retired sjiot somewhere or other ; he hopes that he has framed a speech by which to disconcert you ; do you take care, then, to be youi'self. Pam. If I am only able, Davus. Dav. Trust me for that, Pamphilus, I tell you ; yoiu- father will never this day exchange a single word with you, if you say that you will marry. Scene VI. Enter Byrrhia, unperceived, at a distance behind Simo. Byr. {apart to himself.) My master has ordered me, leaving my business, to keep an eye on Pamphilus to-day, what he is doing with regard to the marriage. I was to learn it ; for that reason, I have now followed him' {pointing to Simo) as ' / have notv followed him) — Ver. 414. " Hunc venientem sequor." Cook lias the following remark on this line : " This verse, though in every edition, as Bentlcy judiciously ob.sen-es, is certainly spurious; for as I'aniphilus has not dis^ippearcd since Hyrrhia left the stage, he could not say 'nunc Inoic venientem sequor.' If we suppose the line genuine, we must at the same time suppose Terence guilty of a monstrous absurdity." On these words Colinan makes the following just obser- vations : " Other Commentators liave also stumbled at this pa.ssage ; but if in the words ' followed him hither," we suppose 'him ' (hunc") to refer to Simo. the difficulty is removed ; and that the pronoun really does signify Simo, is evident from the circumstance of ramphilus never liaving left the stage since the disappearance of Byrrhia. Simo is also represented as coming on the stage homewards, so that Byrrhia might easily have followed him along the street ; and it is evident that Byrrhia does not allude to ramphilus from the agreeable surprise which he expresses on seeing him there so opportunely for the purpose." S,\ VI. THK FAIR ANPItlAN". 27 he came hither, llimstlf, ;is \w\\, 1 s«>o standing,' with D.ivus close at hautl ; I'll iioti' this. Sim. {apart to hinine-l/.) I see tlmt hoth of tlu-m :uv here. Dav. {in a low voice to rAiil'lllLLS.) Now thcu, l)e on your L^ianl. Sim. raiiiphilus! Dav. {in a low voice.) Look roniul at him as thougli taken imawaivs. I'am. {turninfj raiind sharplji.) AVhat, my t'atlier! 1)av. {in a low'voicr.) Capital ! Sim. I wish you to many a wife to-day, as I was sayiiiL;. Byij, {apart.) Now l"m in dread for our side, as \o what he will answer. Pam. Neither in that nor in anything else shall you ever find any hesitation in me. HvR. {apart.) Hah! Dav. {in a low mice to PAMrillLUS.) He is stnick dumb. HvK. {apart.) What a speech ! Sim. You act as hecomes you, when that which I ask I obtain \\'ith a ffood gi'ace. Dav. {aside to PAMririLUS.) Am. I i-k^ht? BvR. ily master, so far as I k-arn. has missed his wife. Sim. Now, then, go in-dooi-s, that you uiayu't be causing delay when you are wanted. Pam. I'll go. {Goes into tlie Jiotise.) r>VR. {apart.) Is there, in no '^ase, TAi'jt.ing tnist in ?ii\ manr That is a true proverb which is went to be commonly quoted, that " all had rather it to be well for themselves than for another." I remember noticing, when I saw her, that she was a young woman of handsome figure ; wherefore I am the more disposed to excuse Pamjihilus, if he htis preferred that he himself, rather than the other,^should embi-ace her in his sluml>ers. I'll carry Ijack these tidings, that, in return for this evil he may iiitlict evil ujion me. ' {Uxit. ' Inflict evil ri]>on me) — Ver. 431. "Malum;" the usual name hj which slaves spoke of the beatings they were in the habit of recci.Ing at the hands or by the order of their ini.*(Mble ma.^>-. I. nil- FAii: ANiM;iA>f. 2'.> Dvv. Wliilo it \v;is allowi-tl him, and while his years proiMpteil him, he intrimieil ; crfti then it tnis sei-irtly. Hu look piveautioii tlmt tluit eireumstance shouhl never be u cause ot ilisi^niee to him, as behoves a nian ot jirineipK' ; now that he must have a wife, he lias set his miml upon a wife. Sim. He seemed to me to be somewhat melaneholy in a sliLxht de<;r(H.\ Dav. Not at all ou acoount of her, l>uL therea sonielliing he blames yiiu for. Si.M. What is it, ]n-ay ? Dav. It's a childish thing. Sim. What is it ? D.vv. Nothing at all. Sim. Nay but, tell me what it is. Pay. He savs that you are making too sparing preparations. Sim. What," I? Dav. You. — He says that thei-e has hardly been fare pro- vided to the amount of ten drachmiv.^ — "Does he seem to be bestowing a wife on his son ? Which one now, in prefei"- ence, of my companions shall I invite to the dinner r" And. it must be o^\^le^l.you really art' ^ryt"/(//«y too parsimoniously — I do not commend you. Sim. Hold your tongue. Dav. (a^-idc.) I've touched him up. Sim. I'll see that the.se things are properly done. (D.wus (/oes info the house.) What's the meaning of this ? What does tills old rogue mean ? But if there's any knavery here, why, he's sure to be the source of the mischief. {Goes info his house.) ACT THE THIRD. Scene I. Enter Simo and Dxvvs from the house of the former. IMvsrs and LEiiBiA are cominij towards the house oj Glyceriu.m. ]Mvs. {not seeing SiMO -and Davl'.s.) Uj)on my faith, the fact is really as you mentioned, Lesbia, you can hardly Gnd a man constant to a woman. ' Amount of ten drachmce) — Ver. 451. The .Vttic drachma was a til.'er coiu worth in value about ^%d. of Eaglish mout-j. 30 axduia; Act IIL Sim. {apart to Davus.) This maid-servant comes from the Andriau. Dav. {apart to Snio.) What do you say ? Sim. {apart to Dav us.) It is so. Mys. But this Pamphihis Sim. {apart to Davus.) What is she saying ? Mys. Has proved his constancy. Sim. {apart.) Hah! Dav. {apart to himself.) I wish that either he were deaf, or she stiiick dumb. Mys. For the child she brings forth, he has ordered to be brought up. Sim. {apart.) Jupiter ! What do I hear ! It's all over, if indeed this woman speaks the truth. Les. You mention a good disposition on the part of the young man. Mys. a most excellent one. But follow me in-dooi*s, that you mayn't keep her waiting. Les. I'll follow, (Mysis and Lesbia go into Gi.ycerium's hov^e.) Scene II. SiMO and Davus. Dav. {aside.) What remedy now shall I find for this mishap ? Sim. {to himself aloud.) What does this mean ? Is he so infatuated ? The child of a foreign woman 't Now I under- stand ; ah ! scarcely even at last, in my stupidity, have I found it out. Dav. {aside to himself) AVhat does he say he has found out? Sim. {aside.) This piece of knavery is being now for the first time palmed upon me by this fellow ; they are pre- tending that she's in labour, in order that they may alarm Chremes. Gly. {exclaiminfj from icithin her house.) Juno Lucina,* grant me thine aid, save me, I do entreat thee ! Sim. Whew ! so sudden ? What nonsense ! As soon ' Juno Lucina) — Ver. 473. Juno Lucina had the care of women iu childbed. Under this nnine ?on;e siipjiose Diana to liave been wor- ehipped. A similar incident- to the })rctfent is found iu the Adelphi, 1. 406; and iu the Aulularia of l'lautu», 1. (3-16. ^' . IV. TUK KAIU AVDKIAN. 31 she has hoanl that I'm stamling heforo the fhior, sliw ikfsall haste. Tlieso inritlrnfs, Davii.s, have not heeutjuite i]«|iily ailaptetl hy you as to the })oints ui' tiuie. 1 )AV. By nie ? Sim. Are your sehohu's fori^etfiil ?' Dav. I ilon't know what you are talking ahont. Sim. (fl,v/(//'.) It he at the real marriage of' mi/ son hnosition. anut, she bawls from the street to those who are in the house. O l)a\iis, am I thus trifled with by you ? Or pray, do I seem 1 Are your scholars forgetful ?)~Yqt. 477. He alludes under this lenn to MysLs, Lesbia, aud I'ainphilus, whom lie supposes Davus to have heen training: to act their parts iu the plot against him. - Ltt Iter bathe}— \ev. 483. It was the custom for women to batiie immediately after childHrth. Sec the Amphitryon of Plautus, L 569, aud the Xole to the pasjage in Bohu s Translatioa. 32 andria; Act ITI to you so very "well suited to be thus openly imposed upon by youx' tricks? At all events it sJiouId have heen with precaution ; that at least I might have seemed to be feared, if I should detect it. Day. [aside.) Assuredly, upon my faith, it's he that's now deceiving himself, not I. Sim. I gave you warning, I forbade you with threats to do it. Have you been awed ? What has it availed ? Am I to believe you now in tliis, that this woman has had a child by Pamphilus? Dav. {aside.) I understand where he's mistaken; and I see what I must do. Sim. Why are you silent? Dav. What would you believe? As though word nad not been brought you that thus it would happen. Sim. Any ivord hrour/Jit to me? Dav. Come now, did you of your own accord perceive that this was counterfeited ? Sim. I am being trifled %vith. Dav. Woi'd has been brought you ; for other wise bow could this suspicion have occurred to you ? Sim. How? Because I knew you. Dav. As though you meant to say that this has been done by my contrivance. Sim. Why, I'm sure of it, to a certainty. Dav. Not yet even do you know me sufficiently, Simo, what sort of person I am. Sim. I, not /iiioic you! Dav. But if I begin to tell i/ou anything, at once you think that deceit is being practised ujion you in guile ; there fore, uj)on my faitli, I don't dare now even to whisper. Sim. This one thing I am sure of, that no person has been delivered here. {Pointing to Glyckhiu.m's house.) Dav. You have discovered that.'' Still, not a bit the let.s will they pi'esently be laying the child* here before the door. Of this, then, I now warn you, masterj that it will happen, ' Be laijing the child') — Vcr. 507. Colman has the following retrark on thiii line : — " The art of this passage is equal to the pleasantry, for though Davus runs into this detail merely with a view to dupe the old man still further hy flattering hiiu on his fancied sagacity, yet it very naLurally prepares us for an incident wliich, by another turn of eircuni- Btati"C>=, afterwards bei^oiiies necessary." /?C. IV. TIIK KAMI ANDKIAN. '6?t that you may lie awaiv of it. Don't you IxTvaftcr lu? sayiii'* that this was dono throui^h tlic advico or artifici-s of Davus. I wish this susjiiciou of youi*s to bo outiroly iTiuuvt-d fioiu my so If 8iM. How do you know that? Dav. I'vo lu'urd so, and I bolievo it : many things comhine for me to form this oonjooturo. In tho fii-st {)hu-o tlun, sho declaix'd that sho was j»roi,'nant hy J\ini|iliihis; tluit hsus hocii proved to be false.' Now, when sho sees that |)ro|(arations are Iwins; made for tlie wotKling at our house, tho niaid-.sorvant 18 dirootly sent to fotoli tho midwife to hor, and to bring a child at tho same time.' Vnloss it is managed for you to seo thoi-hild, tho marriage will not be at all imj)odod. Sim. What do you s^iy fo tliis.^ When you porcoivod that they weiv adopting this ])lan, why didn't you toll l'ann)liilus imme«liatoly? Dav. Why, who has induce! him to leave her, but myself ? For, indeed, we all know how do.'*j)orately he loved hor. Xow he wishes for a wife. In fine, do you intrust me with that atTair; ju-ooeed however, as before, to celebrate these nuptials, just as you are doing, and I trust that the Gods will prosper this matter. Sim. Veiy well ; be off in-doors ; wait for me there, and ^t. t i-eady what's necessary to be prepared. (Davus (/ocs into the house.) He hasn't prevailed upon me even now altogether to believe these things, and I don't know whether what he has said is all tnie ; but I deem it of little moment ; this is of far givator importance to me — that my son himself has promised me. Now I'll go and tind Clu'emes; I'll ask him for a wife for my son ; if I obtain my request, at what other time rather than to-day should I prefer these nuptials taking jilace? For as my son has promised, I have no doubt but that if he should prove iniwilling, I can fairly compel him. And look ! here's Chremes himself, just dt the very time. ' Proved to be /nI.^e)—YcT. 513. That is, according to Simo's owa notion, wiiich Davus now thinks proper to humour. -' To bring a child at the Hatire time) — Ver. 515. This is a piece of roguery which has probably been practised in all ages, and wassoincwliat commonly perpetrated in Greece. The reader of English history will remember how the unfortunate son of James II. was said, in the face j{ Uic stronsjest evidence to the contriry, to have been a sa|i[iasitil.ioui ^Id brought into the queen's chamber in a silver warmiugpam U 34 andria; Act I IT. Scene V. Enter Chremes. Sim. I greet you, Chremes. Chrem. O, you are the very person I was looking for. Sim. And I for you. Chrem. You meet me at a welcome moment. Some per- sons have been to me, to say that they had heard from you, that my daughter was to be maiTied to your son to-day ; I've come to see whether they are out of their senses or you. Sim. Listen ; in a few words you shall learn both what 1 want of you, and what you seek to know. Chrem. I am listening; say what you wish. Sim. By the Gods, I do entreat you, Chremes, and hif our friendship, which, commencing with our infancy, has grown up with our years, and by your only daughter and by my own son (of preserving whom the entire power lies with you), that you will assist me in this matter ; and that, just as this ' marriage was about ti5 be celebrated, it may be celebrated. Chrem. 0, don't importmie me ; as though you needed to o])taui this of me by entreaty. Do you suppose I am diffe- rent now from what I was formerly, when I promised her? If it is for the advantage of them both that it should take place, order her to be sent for. But if fr>"im this course there woi;ld result more harm than advantage for each, this I do beg of you, that you will consult for their common good, as though she were your own daughter, and I the father of Pamphilus. Sim. Nay, so I intend, and so I wish it to be, Chremes ; and I would not ask it of you, did not the occasion itself require it. Chrem. What is the matter ? Sim. There is a quarrel between Glycerium and my son. Chrem. {ironical 1 1/.) I hear you. Si.M. So much so, that I'm in hopes they may be separated. CiiREJL Nonsense! Sim. It really is so. CliREM. After this fashion, i' faith, I teli you, " the quarrels of lovers are the renewal of love." S<- V. THE FAIR ANT>niAN. 35 Sim. Well — tnia T Vi^ of you, tli.it wc may pivvcnt it. Whilo an opportunity olUi-s, and wliilo his passion is cooled by atlronts, lu-foiv the wiKs of thi-so women and tlieir tears, craftily feij^ned, orini; back his love-siek mind to lom passion, let us ;iivc him a wife. I trust, Chreuies, that, when attached by intimacy and a respectahle marriage, he will wusily extricato himself from these evils, CuKKM. So it appeai-s to you ; hut I do not think' that I either he can possilily hold to her with constancy, or that I can put up with it if he docs not. t, Sim. Hi>w then can you be sure of that, unless you make [[the experiment ? I Chkflm^ l^ut_for_jthat experiment to be made \\\)on a I daughter is a serious thing ' Sim. Why look, all the inconvenience in fine amounts to " — ])ossibly, which may the Gods forfend, a sepy the bridegroom at niy:hll.ili Iroiu her father house, iu a chariot drawu by a pair of uiules or oxcu, aud escorted I- persons carrying tlie nuptial (Mrfbos. Aniou!^ tlie Homaus. she pr ceeded in the evening to the bridegroom s house; preceded by a b: carrying a torch of white flioni, or, according to some, of pine-woO' | To tliib custom relerencc is mdircctlj' made iu the present passajiC. | S» ^'11. TUi: KAIIl ANDKIAN. 37 Pav. (nsiilf.) Ila! Are \vi> imtlonc, then ? Sim. I tolil him wliat yo.i just now told mo. Dav. («.i. There's no delay on his part now. t'uKKM. I'll go home at onee ; I'll tell her to n;ake due piepai-ation, ami brLng baek word here. (F.xil. Sim. Now I do entreat you, Davus. since you by youi-self have brought about this marriage tor me Dav. 1 myself, indeetl I ' Sim. Do your best still to reform my sjhuient lias been referred to in the Notes to the Translation of Phiutus. I ft Art IV., Sl. I. THE FAIR ANDUIAK. 3'.) mini Jiibtscr, in whom I've l)oin pliicinsj; reliance, — you \vli;» tliis (lay from a most happy state havo bot-n and jiluiiL^i-d mu iuto a marriaj^o. Didn't 1 siiy that this would he- tliu 0118*;? Dav. You did &i\y so. Pam. What do you deserve?' Dav. The ci\>ss.* 15ut allow me a little time to ivcover niysoli"; I'll soon hit upon soinethin;^. Tam. Ah me! not to have the leisure to infliit puiiishment upon you lus I desire! for the present eonjuneturo warns mo to take precautious lor myself, not to be taking veni^eanee on you. {J£xeunt. ACT THE FOURTH. Scene I. Enter CH.tVRiNUS, xcringing his handfi. CiiAR. {to hiinsrlf.) Is this to he believed or spoken ol ; that malice so gi'eat could be inborn in any one as to exult at misfortunes, and to derive advant;\ije from the distresses of another! Oh, is this true? As.suredly, that is the most dangerous class of men, in whom there is only a slight de- gree of hesitation at refusijig ; afterwards, wheii the time arrives for fulfilling their promises, then, obliged, of necessity they discover themselves. They are afraid, and yet tlie^ circumstances* compel them to refuse. Then, in that case, their very insolent remark is, " Who are you ? What are you to me ? Why should I give up to you what's my o\vn ? ' What do 7J0U desvi-ve?) — Ver. 622. ^ladame Dacier remarks that this question is taken from the custom of the Athenians, who never condemned a criminal without first asking him what punislnneni he thought he deserved ; and according to the nature of his an.swer they mitiiruted or increased his pun shment. The Commentators quote a aimilar passage from tlie Frogs of Aristophanes. - The cross) — Ver. 622. Thg""cross," "crux," as a puwi.shment for refractorj- slaves has been remarked upon in the Notes to the Transla- tion of Plautus. •• The circumftances) — Ver. 635. " Res." According, however, to I>onsiu8, this word haa the meaning here o( "malice" or " apito- (uiuetB." 40 andria; Act FT". Look you, I am the most concerned in my ovm interusts."' But if you enquire whore is honor, they are not ashamed.* Here, where there is occasion, they are not afraid ; there, whore there is no occasion, they are afraid. But what am I to do? Ought I not to go to him, and reason with him upon this outrage, and heap many an invective upon Jiivi.'' Yet some one may say, "you will avail nothing." Nothing? At least I sliall have vexed him, and have given vent to my own feeHngs. Scene II. Enter Pamphilus and Davits. Pam. Charinus, unintentionally I have ruined both myself and you, unless the Gods in some way befriend us. Char. Unintentionally, is it I An excuse has been dis- covered at last. You have broken your word. Pam. How so, pray ? Guar. Do you expect to deceive me a second time by these speeches ? Pam. W^hat does this mean ? Char. Since I told you that I loved her, she has become quite pleasing to you. Ah wretcl^ed me! to have judgeil ni your disposition from my ovm.. Pam. You are mistaken. Char. Did this pleasure ap})ear to you not to be quite co-,n- plete, unless you tantalized me in my passion, and lured me ou by gi'oundless hopes ? — You may take her. Paji. I, take her? Alas! you know not in what per- plexities, to my sorrow, I am involved, and what vast anxie- ties this executioner of mine (^oiiiting to Davus) has con- trived for me by his devices. Char. What is it so wonderful, if he takes example from yourself ? ' Concerned in my own inffrests^ — Ver. 637. Equivalent, to our sayings, '• Charity begins at home ;" " Take care of number one. ' - They are not n.iliamed) — Ycr. 6S^. Terence has probably borrowed this remark from the EpidiL-us of Tlautns, 1. ICo-G: ''Generally nil men are ashamed when it is of no use ; when they ought to be ashamed, then does shsjuc forsake them, when occasion is *"or them to Bo. IT. TIIK FAIU ANPUIAN. 41 Fam. Yon would not s;iy that if yon understood oitlu-r mysolf or my alUition. CuAlt. I'm (jnitf iiwiiw (iroiiicijJli/) ; yon liavo jnst now had a dispute with yoir tatlur. anil he is now ani^ry with yon in consequenoo, ami hiis nt>t been able to-day to |tnvail n|iou yon to many her. Pam. No, not at all, — as yon are not aeqnaintod with my sorn>ws, these iniptials weiv not in preparation for me; and no one was thinkini; at presi-nt of i^ivin^ mr a wife. Char. I am awiuv; you have been inllueuced by your own inclination. 1\\M. Hold ; you do not yet know nil. Char. For my pai-t, I certainly do know that you aro about to marry her. Vau. Why are you torturing me to death ? Listen to this. He {poinfiiiq to Davus) never ceased to urge me to tell my father that I woukl marry her ; to advise and per- suade me, even until he compelled me. Chak. Who was this person ? Pam. Davus. Char. Davus ! For what reason ? Pam. I don't know ; exce{)t that I must have been under the displeasure of the Gods, for me to have listened to liim. Char. Is this the fact, Davus? Day. It is the tact. Char, (sfarfinq.) Ha ! Wliat do you say, i/ou villain" ? Then may the Gods send you an end worthy of your deeds. Come now, tell me, if all his enemies had wi.shetl him to be plunged into a marriage, what advice but this could they have given ? Day. I have been deceived, but I don't despair. Char, {ironically.) Tnv stire of that. Dav. This way it has not succeeded ; we'll try another. Unless, perhaps, you think that because it failed at tii-st, this misfortune cannot now possibly be changed for better luck. Pam. Certainly not ; for I quite believe that if you set ab(mt it, you will be making two marriages for me out of one. Day. I owe you this, Pamphilus, in respect of my servi- tude, to strive with hands and feet, night and day ; to sub- mit to hazard ot my life, to serve you. It is your j)ai-t, if aaything has fallen out contrary to expectation, to forgivo 42 andria; Act IV. me. "What I was contrhnng has not succeeded ; still, I ciui using all endeavours ; or, do you yourself devise something better, and dismiss me. Pasi. I wish to; restore me to the position in which you fuimd me. Day. I'll do so. Pam. But it must be done directly. Day. But the door of Glycerium's house here makes a noise.' Pam. Thafs nothing to you. Day. {assuming an attitude of meditation.) I'm in sseairh of Pam. (ironicalli/.) Dear me, what, now at la.^t ? Day. Presently I'll give you what I've hit upon. Scene III. Enter MYSis/row tlie Jwuse of Glycerii'^. Mys. {calling at the door to Glycerium u-ithin.) Xow, wherever he is, I'll take care tliat your own Pamphilus shall be found for you, and brought to you by me ; do you only, my life, cease to vex yoiu'sell'. Pam. Mysis. Mys. {turning round) "WTio is it ? Why, Pamphilus, ; you do present yourself opportimely to me. ]My mistress I charged me to beg of you, if you love her, to come to her ' directly ; she says she wishes to see you. Pam. {aside.) Alas ! I am undone ; this dilemma grows apace ! {To Davus.) For me and her, unfortimate persons, now to be tortured this w^ay through yoiu- means ; for I am sent for, because she has discovered that my marriage is in preparation. ' Makes a noise) — Ver. 6S3. The doors with the Rom.-uis opened inwardly, while those of the Greeks opened on the outside. It was therefore usual with them, when coming out, to strike the door on the inside with a stick or with the knuckles, that those outside might be warned to get out of the way. Patrick, however, observes with some justice, that the word "concrepuit " may here allude to the creaking of the hinges. See the Curculio of Tlautus, 1. KiO. where the Procuress pours water on the hinges, iu order that Cappadox may not hear the jpeuing ol the door. S.v TTT. THK FAIK ANOKIAN. 43 CuAic Fn>m which, iml oil, li roulil Imvo bciMi olttuinod, if he [pointiiii^fol^wVii) had ki-pt hiinstlf (|uiet. DaV. {ironicdlli/ to Ciiaiunlts.) Do proi-enl ; if he i.sa't sutUi'iontly aiiu;i y of his own aecord, do you irritate him. Mys. {fo rAMniiM'S.) Aye faith, that is tlio case; and for that n'as on, noorj Jtu»?i she is now in distress. PajT .'nIvsis, Iswear by all the (.iods that I will never forsake her ; not if I were to know that all men would be my enemies in eonse<|uence. Her have I ehosen for mine ; she luis fallen to my lot ; our feelin;;s are conucwial ; farewell they, who wish for a separation between usn nothing but Desith separates her from mJ^ ^"^ Mys. I begin to revi\-B. '^ Pam. Not the res])onsos of Apollo are more time than this. If it can possibly be contrived that my father may nv. t K'lieve that this marriage has been bi'oken otF through me, I could wish it. But if that cannot be, I will do that which is easily effected, for him to believe that tlirough me it has been caused. What do you think of me? Char. That you are as unha}>py as myself. D.w. {plixriiitj hU J'uujer on hin Joreheaii.) I'm contriving an ex|)edient. CuAli. You are a clever hand ; if you do set about any tlimg. Dav. Assuredly, I'll manage this for you. Paji. There's need of it now. Dav. But I've got it now. Char. What is it ? Dav. For him {pointinj to Pamphilus) I've got it, not for you, don't mistake. Char. I'm quite satisfied. Pam. Wliat will you do ? Tell me. Dav. I'm afraid that this day Tvou't be long enough for me to execute it, so don't suppose tljat I've now got leisure for relating it ; do you betake yourself off at once, for you are a hindi"ance to me. Pam. I'll go and see her. ( Goes into the hoiti'S of Glycerium. ) Dav. (/o Charinus.) yVhat are jon t/oi/iff fo do / Whither ai-e you going from here ? Char. Do you wish me to tell you the tnith ? Dav. No, not at all; {aside) he's niukiug the beginning of a hnff story for me. 44 andria; Act IV. Char. "Wliat will become of me ? Dav. Come now, you unreasonable person, are you not Batisfied that I give you a little respite, by putting otf his marriage ? Char. But yet, Davus Dav. What then F Char. That I may marry her Dav. Aljsurd. Char. Be sure to come hither {pointinfj in tlie dirrcfinn of his house) to my house, if you can e//'ect anything. Dav. Why should I come ? I can do nothing ^or i/ou. Char. But still, if anything Dav. Well, well, I'll come. Char. If you can ; I shall be at home. { Exit. Scene IV. Mysis and Davus. Dav. Do you, Mysis, remain here a little while, until I come out. Mys. For what reason ? Dav. There's a necessity for so doing. Mys. Make haste. Dav. I'll ])e here this moment, I tell you. (He goes into the house o/'Glycerium.) Scene V. Mysis alone. Mys. {to herself.) That nothing can be secure to any one ! Ye Gods, by our tnist in you ! I used to make sure that this Pamphilus was a supreme blessing for my mistress ; a friend, a protector, a husband secured under every circum- stance ; yet what anguish is she, poor thing, now suffering through him ? Clearly thei'e's more trouble yb?" her now than there was happiness formerly. But Davus is coming out. Scene YI. Unter Daws from the house ofGLYCERiUM icifh the child. Mys. My good sir, prithee, what is that ? Whither ai-e you carrying the cliild ? i?-. VI. TIIK KAIll \M>l!IAy. 4.1 1)av. ^Tysis, T ncnv stiiiicl in m-fil of your ciiiiiiing being l>roUL,'lit into play in tins niatttT, and of your aiMivss. Mys. Why, wliiit arc you ,i(tunLC to do? Dav. (hoh/iiif/ out the chihi.) Take it from nio diirctly, and lay it down lictbiv our tloor. Mys. Prithee, on tlu> ijround ? Dav. (poiiifiiiff.) Take some sacred herbs' from the altar htre,' and strew them tinder it. Mys. Why don't you do it yourself? D.vv. That if perehanee I should have to swear to mv imuster that I did not place it there, I may be enabled to do so with a clear conscience. Mys. I undei-stand ; have these new sci-uples only just now occurivil to yon, jtray ? Dav. Bestir yourself quickly, that you may learn what I'm .ixoin<;f to do next. (^Iy'sis lai/fs the child at SlMo s Jour.) Oh Jupiter! Mys. (s-farflnrj i/p.) What's the matter ? Dav. The father of the iiifnu/ri/ briile is coming in the miiklle of it all. The plan which I had first purposed I now give up. ' Mvs. I don't understand what you are talking about. Dav. I'll pretend too that I've come in this direction from the right. Do you t;ike care to help out the conversa- tion by your words, whenever there's necessity.* ' Take some sacred herbiis : conseiiuontlv. in the next Scene alio gives All answer to Chrcmes which Davus aocs not iuicL»tL 46 AifDRiA; Act IV. Mys. I don't at all comprehend what you are ahouc; but if there's anything in which yon have need of my assistance, as you understand the best, I'll stay, that I mayn't in any way impede your success. (Davus retires out of siyht.) Scene VIL Enter Chremes on the other side of the stage, goinrj touards the house of SiMO. Chrem. {to hi?nseJf.) After having provided the things necessaiy for my daughter's nuptials, I'm returning, that I may request her to be sent for. {Seeinr/ the child.) But what's this? I'faith, it's a child. {Addr('ssing Mrsis.) Woman, have you laid that here {pointing to the child) ? Mys. {aside, looking out for Davus.) Where is he ? Chrem. Don't you answer me ? Mys. {looking about, to herself.) He isn't anywhere to be seen. Woe to wretched me! the fellow has left me and is off. Dav. {coming forward and pretending not to see them.) Ye Gods, by our trust in you ! what a crowd there is in the Forum! What a lot of people are squabbling there! (Aloud.) Then provisions are so dear. {Aside.) What to say besides, I don't know. (Chremes passes by Mysis, and goes to a distance at the bach of the stage.) IMys. Pray, why did you leave me here alone ? Dav. {pretending to start on seeing the child.) Ha ! what story is this ? How now, Mysis, whence comes this child ? Who has brought it here ? ^ ' Mys. Ai-e you quite right in your senses, to be asking me that ? Dav. Whom, then, ought I to ask, as I don't see any one else here ? Chrem. {apart to himself) I wonder whence it has come. Dav. Are you going to tell me what I ask ? Mys. Pshaw ! Dav. {in a whisper.) Step aside to the right. {TJieg retire on one side.) jNIys. You are out of your senses; didn't you your own self? 1)av. {in a low voice.) Take you care not to utter a single i;eath her clothes.' Mys. I'fiith, I thank the Gods that several free women were present' at the delivery. ' Stvffed out beneath hfir ctnthes) — Vcr. 771. " Suffarcinatam. " He ■Uudes to the trick already rclerred to as common :\mon]!;thc Greeks, of the nurses and midwivcd secrelly introducing supiiositilioua 'jhiidron ; ■PC I. 515 and the Note. ' Several free women were present) — Vcr. 772. She speak* of 48 andria; Act TV. Dav. (aloud.) Assuredly she doesn't know him, on whose jtccoimt she resorts to these schemes. Clu'cmes, she fancies, if he sees the child laid before the door, will not give his daughter ; i'faith, he'll give her all the sooner. CiiKEM. (apart.) I'faith, he'll not do so. Dav. (aloud.) Now therefore, that you may be quite aware, if you don't take up the child, I'll roll it forth\\'ith into the middle of the road ; and yoiu'self in the same place I'll roll over into the mud. I Mys. Upon my word, man, you are not sober. Dav. (aloud.) One scheme brings on another. I now hear it whispered about that she is a citizen of Attica Chrem. (apart.) Ha! Dav. (aloud.) And that, consti-ained by the laws,' he will bave to take her as his wife. Mys. Well now, pray, is she not a citizen ? Chrem. (apart.) I had almost fallen unawai-es into a comical misfortune. (Comes forward.) Dav. Who's that, speaking? (Pretending to look about.) O Chremes, you have come in good time. Do listen to tlJs. Chrem. I have heard it all ah'eady. Dav. Prithee, did you hear it ? Here's villany for you ! she (pointinfj at Mysis) ought to be carried off" hence to the torture forthwith. (To Mysis, point in (/ at Chre.mes.) This is Chremes himself; don't suppose that you ai-e triiliug with Davus onli/. Mys. Wretched me ! upon my faith I have told no untruth, my trorthi/ old gentleman. Chrem. I know the whole affair. Is Simo within ? Dav. He is. {Chre.mes goes into Simo's house.) "liberse," " free women," because in Greece as well as Italy slaves were not permitted to give evidence. See the Curculio of riaiitus, 1. 621, and the Note to the passage iu Bohn's Translation. See also the remark of Geta in the Phormio, 1. 29.3. ' Constrained hi/ the laics) — Ver. 782. He alludes to a law at Athens which compelled a man who had debauched a free-born woman to marry her. This is said by Davus witL ihe view of frightening Chremes from the match. - Me oiif/ht to he carried oJPi — Yer. 787. He says this implying that Mysis, who is a slave, ouglit to be put to the torture to confess the truth; as it was the usual mt-ihod at Athens to force a confession from slaves by that method. Wt; find in the Hecyra, l?acc!iis readily offering her slaves to be put lo the toriuco, and in the Vdclphi tlie same custom in alluded to iu the Scene between -Micio, Uegio, and Geta. Sc. IX. THE KAIK AMUUAN. 4^ SCENK VI 11. P.wrs ami Mvsis. ^fys. (Davits attemptiiiff to carrss htr.) Don't toiu-h me, villain. {Mmiiiif away.) Ou my word, if I don't trll (Jivierium all this Dav. How now, simpU-ton, don't you know what hiui heou • luno-' Mys. How should I know ? Dav. This is the hrido's t'athor. It coul(tn't any othe^ \v ly have heen man.ij^ed that he should know the things tluu we wanted him to know. Mvs. You should have told me that before. Dav. Do you suj>j)ose that it makes little difference wht» tlier you tlo things aeeortling t«.i im])ulse, iis nature promjjt;* ^'f from premeditation r Scene IX- Entcr CuiTO, looking about him. Criti" {to himself.) It was said that Chrysis used to live in thi.s .^reet, who preferred to gtxin wealth here dishonomhly t»> liWng honestly as a poor woman in her o^vn eountry : hy her death that property has descended to me by law.* But I see some persons of whom to make eucpiiry. (Accosting ihem.) Good morrow to you. Mvs. Prithee, whom do I see? Isn't this Crito, the kins- ran of Chrysis r It is he. Cri. Mysis, gi-eetiugs to you. Mys. W eknaie to you, Crito. ■> Cri. Is Chrysis then r* Ala-s! ' Dejtcended to me hy laic) — Ver. 800. On the suppo.sition tli.at Chrysis ei*son of some consecjuence. There is a tjr.vve sternness in his features, and something commanilin'4 in his words. Sim. What nnrs are you lirin!j;inL;, I wonder? Dav. Why nothinuj but what I heard him mention. Sim. What doe« he Siiy tlieii ': D.vv. J?hat he knows (.Jlyeorinm to be a citizen of Attica. Sim. i^oinij to his dour.) Ilo there! Dromo, Dromo ! Scene III. Enter DuOMO hast ihi from the house. Dro. What is it ? Sim. Dromo! Dav. Hear me. Sim. If you add a word Dromo! D.W. Hear me. pray. Ij Dko. {to SiMO.) What do you want ? I Sim. [pointinif to Davl'S.) Carry him ofF on your shoul- [dei-s iu-dooi-s as fast as possible. Dro. Wliom? Sim. Da\-\is. Dav. For what reason ? Sim. Because I choo.se. {To Df.omo.) Cany him off, I say. Dav. What have I done ? r Si.M. Carry him off. D.vv. If you find that I have tokl a lie in any one matter, then kill me. Sim. I'll hear nothing. I'll soon have you set in motion.' ' Tou set in motion) — Ver.865. By the u.se of the word " Coin- motus" he seems to allude to the wretched, re.y you at any |iri<'o ; from that vt-ry ilay did tliat r.r/irixsnm aptly hi'tit you. Ikit yot why do I tornu-nt niy.sdfr' Why \o.\ nivsflf r Why worry my ohl ai;c with hi.s ma(hu'.><.s ? Am 1 to sutViT the punislinu'iit lor his oIII'iutm ? Nay then, let him huve her, good bye to him, let him juiss his life with her. Pam. My father Sim. How, " my father ?" As if you stood in any need of this father. Home, wife, and eliildren, |irovided fti/ i/oii a:,'!iinst the will of your father ! Peojjle suborned, too, to .s;iy that slie is a eitizeii of this plai-e ! You have gained your jioint. Pam. Father, may I sni/ a few wonls ? Sim. What ean you say to me ? CiiREM. But. Simo, do hear him. Sim. I, hear him ? Why should I hear him, Chremes ? CnuEM. Still, however, do allow him to speak. Sim. Well then, let liim speak : I allow him. Pam. I owu that I love_ lier j if that is committing a fi\ult, I own that also. To you, father, do I subject myself. Impose on me any injunction you pleiuse ; command me. Do* you wish me to take a wife ? Do you wisli me to give her up ? As well as I can, I will endure it. This only I request of you, not to tliink that this old gentleman has been suborned by me. Allow me to clear myself, and to bring him here before you. Sim. To bring him here ? Pam. Do allow me, fiither. Chkem. He asks whats reasonable ; do give him leave. Pa.m. Allow me to obtain thus much of you. Sim. I allow it. I desire anything, so long as I find. f'hremes, that I have not been deceived by him. (Pa.m- V iliLV s r/oes info the house o/'Glyceuium.) CuREM. For a gi'eat offence, a slight pimishment ought to satisfy a father. SCF-NE V. He-en fer Pampiiilu.s with Crito. Cri. (to Pampuilus, as he is coming out.) Forbear entreat- ing. Of these, any one reason prompts me to do it, either 56 andria; Act V. your owm sake, or the fact that it is the truth, or that I wish well for Glycerium herself Chrem. (starting.) Do I see Crito of x^ndros ? Siu'ely it; is he. Cri. Greetings to you, Chremes. Chrem. How is it that, so contrary to your usage, you are at Athens ? Cri. So it has happened. But is this Simo ? Chrem. It is he. Cri. Simo, were you a.sking for me ? Sim. How now, do you say that Glycerium is a citizen ot this place ? Cri. Do you deny it ? Sim. (iro7iicaIli/.) Have you come here so well prepared? Cri. For what purpose ? Sim. Do you ask ? Are you to be acting this way with impunity ? Are you to be luring young men into snares here, inexperienced in affairs, and liberally brought up, l>y tempting them, and to be playmg upon their fancies by making promises ? Cri. Are you in your sen.ses ? Sim. And are you to be patching up amours with Cour- tesans by marriage ? Pam. (aside.) I'm undone ! I foar that the stranger will not put up with this. Chrem. If, Simo, you knew this person well, you would not think thus ; he is a worthy man. Sim. He, a worthy man ! To come so opportunely to-day just at tVe very nuptials, a7icl yet never to have come before ? (h-onicalJi/.) Of course, we must believe him, Chremes. Pam. (aside.) If I didn't di-oad my father, I have somc- tliing, which, in this conjuncture, I could opportunely suggest to him.* ' Could opportuJieh/ siifjfje-^t toll im) — Ver. 919. Colman has the fol- lowing remark on this line: "Madame Dacicr and several English Translators make Pamphilussay that he could give Crito a hint or two. What hints lie could propose to suggest to Crito, I cannot conceive. The It;V.iau translation, printed with the Vatican Terence, seems to understand the words in the same manner that I have translated them, in which sense (the pronoun 'ilium' referring to Simo instead of Crito) they seem to be the most natural words of Pamphilus on occasiou f hi.s f'lther'c anger aud the speech immediately precedixig." So. V. TIIF FAIR ANDUIAN'. 57 Sim. (xrirrriiiifh/, f(> ('\inKM\.s.) A ,sli.ii|Kr!* Cm. {sfiir/in;/.) ll;ih ! C'hkkm. It is liis way, Crito ; do t-xiusf it. Cm. Lot liiiu take lioetl how he holuivos. If lio ]ionatus observes that these arc the doctrines of Epicurus, and that the whole sentence is copied from the Eunuch of Jlenander; to which practice of borrowing from various Plays, allusion is made in tl;c I'rologuc, where he mentions the mixiuij of plays ; " coatamiuari labula:i." Sc. VII. TMK FAIK AMMtlAN. 61 Pam. {fo hinisrif.) I s(>o Diiviis. TIuto is no one in the world whom I wouKl choose in prt'llTonoo ; for 1 am sure that he ut' all peoj)le will sincerely rejoice in my hap])inesa. Scene VII. Enter Davus. r>AV. {to himself.) Where is Pamphilus, I wonder? Pam. Here he is, Davus. D.W. {turn'nuj round.) Who's that ? Pam. Tis I, I'auiphilus ; you (lon't know wliat ha.s hap- rpeued to nie. ' Dav. No really ; but I know what ha.s hapjiciied to myself. Pam. And I too. Dav. It ha.s fallen out ju.-^t like human atlairs in geneml, that vou shcndd know the mishap I liave met with, hefore I the good that has befallen you. Pam. !My Gly cerium has discovered her parenta Day. O, well done ! Char, {npart, in surprise.) Hah ! P.vm. Her father is an intimate friend of ours. D.vv. \Mio? (Pam. Chremes. Dav. You do tell good news. P.VM. And there's no hiudi-ance to my mniTying her at once. Char, {apart.) Is he dreaming the siime that he has been wishing for when awake ? Pam. Then about the child, Davus. Dav. O, say no more ; you are the only person whom the Gods favour. ^ Char, (apart.) I'm all right if these things are true. I'll accost them. (Comes furn-ard.) Pam. Who is this ? Why, Charinus, you meet me at the very nick of time. Char. That's all right. Paji. Have you heiird ? Char. Eveiythiug ; come, in your good toituut uw hava 62 ajojria; the fair andrian. ActY.jSc.YII. some i"egard for me. Cliremes is no"w at your command ; I'm sure that he'll do everythins^ you wish. Pam. I'll remember you ; and because it is tedious for us to wait for him untd he comes out, follow me this way ; he is now in-doors at the house of Glycerium ; do you, DaAnis, go home ; send with all haste to remove her thence. Why are you standing there ? Why are you delaying ? Dav. I'm going. (Pamphilus and Chari>xs (jo into tlie house of Glycerium. Davus then comes forn-ard and addresses the Audience.) Don't you wait until they come out from there ; she will be betrothed within : if there is anything else that remains, it "will be transacted in-doors. Grart us your applause. * ' Grant us your applause) — Ver. 9S2. "Plaudite." Colman has the following remark at the conclusion of this Play: '"All the old Tragedies and Comedies acted at Rome concluded in this manner. ' Donee cantor vos ' Plaudite' dicat,' says Horace. Who the 'cantor' was, is a matter of dispute. Madame Dacier thinks it was the whole chorus ; others suppose it to have been a single actor; some the prompter, and some the composer. Before the word ' Plaudite' in all the old copies is an U, which has also given rise to several learned conjectures. It is most probable, according to the notion of Madame Uacier, that this 12, being the last letter of the Greek alphabet, was nothing more th;ui the mark of the transcriber to signify the end, like the Latin word ' Finis ' in modern books; or it might, as Patrick supposes, stand for liror, ' cantor, ' denoting that the following word ' Plaudite ' was spoken by him. After 'Plaudite' in all the old copies of Terence stand these two words, ' Calliopius re^ensui;" Afhich signify, 'I, Calliopius, have revised and corrected this piece.' And this proceeds from the custom of the old critics, who carefully revised aU Manuscripts, and when they had read and corrected any work, certified the same by placing their naiues at '-he eud of i*.." TIIC TITLE* 01- THE PLAY. Perform KD at the I\ro!x-aloiisian Games ; L. Posthnmiiis AUiinus aud L. Coniolius Morula hoing Curule ^EdiKs. L. Ambivius Tiirpio and L. Atilius Pnencstiuus porl'oniicd it. Flaccus, the iVeeduiau of Claudius, composed the music to two treble flutes. From the Greek. ol MeikHndor. It was acted twice,* M. ^lilerius aud C. Fauuius being Cousuls.* ' The Titles — Colmaa has the following remark on this Play: "This seems to have been the most popular of all the Comedies of Terence. Suetonius aud Donatus both inform us that it was acted with the greatest applause, and that the Poet received a larger price for it from the .Ediles than had ever been paid for any before, namely. 8000 sesterces, which is about equal to 200 crowns, which in those times was a considerable sum." - Ac^fd twicer — This probably means "twice in one day." As it if generally suppo.'J1, or u.u. 162. EUXUCHUS; THE EUNUCH. THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIU3 APOLLINARTS. The Captain. Thraso, being ignorant of the same, has brought from abroad a girl who used wrongly to be called the sister of Thais, and presents her to jTAa/s herself : she in rcaliti/ \? a. citizen of Attica. To the same woman, Phaedria, an admirer of Thais, orders a Eunuch whom he has purchased, to be taken, and he himself goes away into the country, having been entreated to give up two days to Thraso. A youth, the brother of Phaedria, having fallen in love with the damsel sent to the house of Thais, is dressed up in the clothes of the Eunuch. Parmeno prompts him ; he goes in ; he ravishes the maiden ; but at leiuith her brother being discovered, a citizen of Attica, betrothes her who has been ravished, to the youth, and Thraso prevails upon Phsedria by his entreaties. THE PROLOGUE. If there is any one who desires to please as many good men as possible, and to give oftence to extremely few, among tho.se does our Poet enrol his name. Next, if there is one who thinks^ that language too harsh is here applied to him, let him hear this in mind — that it is an answer, not an attack ; inasmnch as he has himself been the first aggi-essor; who, by translating plat/s verbally,'' and ^vl•iting them in bad Latin, has made ont of good Greek Flays Latin ones by no means good. ' If there is oneieho tUinhs) — Vcr. 4. He alludes to his old enemy, Luscus Lavinius. the Comic Poet, who is alluded to in the Prologue to the Andria. and has since continued his attacks upon him. " By tran-shitiiiff iiteralli/ — Ver. 7. "Bene vertendo, at eosdem scribendo male." This passage has greatly puzzled some of the Commen- tators. Bentley has, however, it appeal's, come to the most rea.sonable conclusion ; who .supposes that 'I crence means by •"bone vcrtere," a literal translation, word for word, from the Greek, by which a servile adherence to the idiom of that language was pr served to the neglect of the Latin idiom; in conse(|ucnce of which the Plays of Luscub Lavinius were, ab he remarks, " "^ale scriptae," written iu bad Latiu. EUNT'nrrs; the Fi'Nrcir. (17 Just as of Iftto ho has jtuMislifil tlu' Phasina' fthe Apjwiri- tioii" of MtiiaiuliT ; and in the Tlu'sjuinis (the Tn'Msiiif] lias iK'SLTilK'il^ liini fn>iu whom tlu' i^olil is tlcniandcil, a.s ' Has piibU-ilifil fill- Phu.iwa) — Vor. 9. The " <^(IT/(,(^" or "Appa- rition," wiia a riay of Monaiulor, so oilloil. in which a voiinij inim lookini; throuch a hole in tlio wall ln'tween his fatlu-rs house and that jK'xt lioor, sees a youni; woman of niarvellons heaiilv, and is struck with awe at the siurht, as thouirh hy an apparition ; in the IMav, the irirl's mother is represented as havimr niadc this hole in the wall, and having ilcckcd it with tnirlands and hranches that it may resemlile a eon- secnited place; where she daily performs licr devotions in company with her daugliter. who lias heen privately bronirht up, and whoso existence is unknown to tlie neij^jlilniurs. On the yiiuth cominij: hy degrees to the knowledge that the ohject of his admiration is Lut a mortal, his passion becomes so violent tliat it will admit of no cure hut marriau:e. with tlie celebration of which the Play concludes. l?entley uives us the above information from an ancient Scludiast, whose name is unknown, unless it is Donatus himself, wluch is doubtful. It would appear that Luscus liavinius had lately made a translation of this Play, which, from its servile adherence to tlie language of the original, had been couched in ungmmmatical laniruaiie, and probably not approved of by the Audience. Donatus thinks tliat this is the meaning of the passage, and that, content with this sligiit reference to a well-known fact, the author passes it by in contemptuous silence. - And ill (he Thcsaitnt.'i /kj.s- di.tcn'bid \ — Ver. 10. Cook has the fol- lowinii appropriate remark upon this pass;ige : " In the ' Thesaurus,' or 'Treasure 'of Luscus Lavinius, a young fellow, having wasted his estate by his extnivagance. sends a servant to search his father's monu- ment: but he had before sold tlie ground on which the monument was?, to a covetous old man : to whom the servant applies to help him open the monument ; in which they discover a hoanl and a letter. The old fellow sees the treasure and keeps it ; the young one goes to law with him, .•\nd the old man is represented as opening his cause first before the judge, which he begins with these words -. — " Athenicnses, bellum cum Ithoilicnsibus, Quod fuerit, quid ego prajditcm !" "Athenians, why should I relate the wax w-ith the Rhodiansi" And he goes on in a manner contrary to the nITes of court; which Terence objects to, because the young man, who was the plaintiff, should open his cause first. Thus far Bentley, from the same Scholiast [as referred to in the last Note]. This Notejs a clear explanation of tlie four verses to which it belongs. Hare concurs with ^ladame Dacicr in her opinion '• ie Tlies;iuro." that it is only a part of the Phasma of ilonaiider, and not a distinct Play; but were I not determined by the more Icarnud Bentley, the text itself would not permit me to be of their opinion ; for the words " at(|ue in Thesauro scripsit" seem plainly to me to be a tran- eilioa to another Play. The subject of the Thes;iurus is related by k-2. 68 EUNUCHUS; pleading his cause why it should be deemed bis own, hel'ore the person who demands it has stated how this ti-fasure belongs to him, or how it came into the tomb of his father. Hencefoi-Avard, let him not deceive himself, or fancy thus, " I have now done with it ; there's nothing that he can say to me." I recommend him not to be m'staken, and to refrain fi'om provoking me. I have many other points, as to which for the present he shall be pardoned, which, however, shall be brought forward hereafter, if he persists in attacking me, avS he has begim to do. After the ^Ediles had pm'chased the Eunuch of Menander, the Flay which we are about to perfoi-m, he managed to get an oppoi'tunitj'- of viewing it.* When the magistrates were ])re?.ent it began to be per- formed. He exclaimed that a thief, no Poet, had produced the piece, but still had not deceived- him; that, in fact, it was the Colax, an old Play of Plautus;* and that from it were taken the characters of the Parasite and the Captain. Euc^raphius, though not with all the circumstances mentioned in my Note from Bentley." Colman also remarks here : '" ^lenandcr and his contemporary Piiilcmon, each of them wrote a Comedy under this title. We have Ln the aiiove Note the story of ^lenaiuler's ; and we know that of Plnlemou's from the ' Trinummus' of Plautus, which wasaTranshition of it." ' Opportunity of viewing it) — Ver. 21. Colman thinks that this means something "stronger than merely being present at the repre- sentation," and lie takes the meaning to be, tluit liaving obtained leave to peruse the MS., he furnished himself with objections against the piece, which he threw out when it came to be represented before the magistrates. Cooke thinks that the passage only means, "that he bustled and took pains to be near enough at the representation to see and hear plainly." The truth seems to be that Lavinius managed to obtain admission at the rehearsal or trial of the merits of the piece before the magistrates, and that he then behaved himself in the unseemly manner mentioned in tiie te.xt. - Produced the jiiccc. but siil! had not deceived him) — Ver. 24. There is a pun here upon the rescmlilance in meaning of the words "verba dare " and " fabulam dare." The first expression means " to deceive " or " impose upon ; " the latter phrase has also the s:ime meaning, i>ul it may signify as well "to represent" or 'produce a Play." Thus the exclamation in its ambiguity may mean, " he has produced a T'lay, and has n.^t succeeded in deceiving us," or " he has deceived us, and yet has not deceived us." This is the interpretation which Donaius puts upoa the passage. * Volar,, an old Play of Plautus) — Ver. 25. Although Nonius ilar- rnr. v.vsicn. 69 If tins is a fimlt, tho fault is tin- iijnorance of the P tf ; not that ho inteiuU'il to lie guilty t)f theft. That en it is, ^you will now ho onahloil to juiliio. Tho Colax is a Phii/ ->{" ^Meiinmlor s ; in it there is Colax, a Panisite, ami a l>ri'.;i,'art I'ajitain: he does ns:h t lilliinUy i l,ut r T lu-ar wliat s lalso and witliont Inundation, it's out at iK'OjTm full of cliiuks, and IcaJi. iu every direction. TIkto- r(.»rej_it'^jjuu-wi5h it to he kept secret; wp^k- ^ktv |.i-utli. Thais, ^ly mother was a Samiau; she lived at Kliodcs Vwi. Tliat may be kept a secret. Tn.vis. There, at that period, a certain nicnliaiit made pre.^ent to my nmther of a little girl, who had heen stolen away from Attica here. Pah, Wlij'.t. a citi».'n ? Thaks. I think so; we do not know for certain : she her- self used to nu'ntion her mother's and hiT father's nanie ; her coimtry and other tokens she didn't know, nor, l>y reason of her aixe, was she ahle. The merchant added this : tliat he had heard from the kidnappi;\s that she had been carried off from Sunium.* When my mother received her, she beaiui carefully to ti'acli her every thin;;, a)i(l to bring her up, just as though she had been her own daughtei". i\Iost persons Jsuppi>sed that she was my si.ster. Thence I came hither with that stninger. with whom alone at that period I was con- nected ; he left me all which I now possess Par. Both these things are false; out it goes. Thais. How so ? Pail Because you were neither content with one, nor was 16 the only one to make you presents ; for he likewise pointing to Pu.edria) brought a pretty considerable share ;o you. Thais. Such is the fact ; but do allow me to an-ive at the ])oint I wish. In the meantime, the Captain, who had begun ,to take a fancy to me, set out for Caria;' since when, in the jinterval, I became acquainted witli you. You youi'self are inware how very dear I have held you ; and how I confess to you all my nearest counsels. ^ I Ph.€:d. Xor will I^-mengJifi_sileiit-aliout that. • From Siiniin») — Yer. 115: This was a town situate near a lofty Promonlon' of that name in Atiica. It was famous for a fair wliieh was held there. " Sunium's rocky brow " is mentioned l>y Byron in tho Bonir of the Greek Captive in the 'hinl Canto of Don .Iiian. - .'^et out for Carta) — Ver. l"JtJ. This was a country of Asia Miaor upon the sea-coast, opposite to the island of lihodes. 74 EuinjCHUs; Act t Par. O, is that a matter of doubt ? Thais. Attend; I entreat ^ou. My mother died there recently ; her brother is somewhat too greedy after wealth. When he saw that this damsel was of beauteous form and understood music, hoping for a good price, he forthwith put her up for sale, and sold her. By good fortune this friend of mine was present ; he bought her as a gift to me, ^jiot knowing or suspectmg anything of all this. He returned ; ^^afjt when he perceived that I had formed a connexion with you as well, he feigned excuses on purpose that he might not give her ; he said that if he could feel confidence that he should be jireferred to yourself by me, so as not to appre- hend that, when I had recei^-ed her, I should forsake him, fJieti he was ready to give her to me ; Init that he did fear this. But, so far as I can conjecture, he has set his affections ujDon the girl. I'li.ED. Anything beyond that ? Thais. Nothing; for I have made enquiry. Now, my Phajdria, there are many reasons why I could wish to get her away from him. In the first place, because she Avas called my sister ; moreover, that I may restore and deliver her to her friends. I am a lone woman ; I have no one here, neither 'acquaintance nor relative ; wherefore, Phfedria, I am desirous I by my good ofiices to secure friends. Prithee, do aid me I in this, in order that it may be the more easily effected. Do / »,llow him for the few next days to have the preference with ' jne. Do you make no answer ? PhjED. Most vile woman ! Can I make you any answer after such behaviour as this ? Par. Well done, my master, I commend you ; (anide) he's galled at last. (To Ph.edria.) You show yoiu'self a man. FhjED. I was not aware what you were aiming at ; " she was carried away from hci-e, ic/ien a little child ; my mother brought her uj) as though her o■s^^l ; she was called my sister; I wish to get her away, tliat I may restore her to her friends." The meaning is, that all these expressions, in fine, noAv amount to this, tliaf I am shut out, he is admitted. For what reason ? Except that you love him more than me: and now you areafraitl of her who has been brought hitlier, lest .she should win hiiU; such as he is, li'om yoursel£ Thais. I, al'raid of that r So. 11. TlIK El'NXClI. 75 I'ji.KD. What i>lso, then, ijivi's you conc-um ? I^et nie know. Is he the only jtoi-son who inaki's ])resi'iit.sy ITiiVf \o\\ fuuml my hounty shut aipiinst you? Did I in)t, wIhii y«iu toUl nil! that you wishoil for a sorvant-nmiil fnmi yKtlii(i|iiii,' set- itinii all utluT iuatti'i"s asidi-, ^o and seek fur one? Then you sjiid that you wanted a Kuiuuh, beeuuse Indies of y ^ou, 1 still kept these things iu mind ; as u rewaid for so iloing, I am despised by you. Thais. IMnvdria, what does tliis mean ? Althoujjjh I wish to tjet her away, and think that by these means it eould most probably be etleeted; still, rather tlian make an enemy of you, I'll do as you request me. Ph.€D. I oiili/ wish that you usetl that cxjiression from your heart and truthfully, " rather than make an enemy of yim." If I eould l)elieve that this was said siucerely, I iduUI put up with anything. Pak. {<:.\-i(i«:) He staggers ; how instantaneously is he vanquished by a single expre.ssion ! Thais. I, wretched woman, not speak fi-om my heart ? What. pi"ay. did you ever ask of me in jest, but that you carried your point? J[__a m unabl e to obtain even this of (you, that you would giuntwr only t^vO ftejs: Pn.ED. If, indeed, it is but two days ; but don't let these days become twenty. Thais. Assuredly not more than two days, or Ph.bd. " Or ?" I won't have it. Thais. It shall not be ; only do allow me to obtain this of you. Ph.ed. Of course that which you desire must be done. I Thais. I IcLvn yo" "" yo" d.>>;.-vv^^ ^ you act obli;j;iugly. Ph.ed. {to Pahmeno.) I shall ^o into the country ; there ' I shall worry myself fur the next two days : I'm resolved ' Servant-maid from ^Ediiopia) — Ver. 165. No doubt iEthioi>ian or negro slaves vrcre much prized by tlie great, and those courtesaoB whose object it w.as to ape their manners. • L adieu o/qual ti/) — Ver. 16S. " lieginee," literally " queent-," hero means women of ratik and distinction. ' Paid tiifnty mince)— \ct. ItJO. The " miaa " coutaiucU ouc liun* dred " drachmae " ot about Ojji/. each. 7(y ETNUCHrs ; Act I, Sc. IIT. to (\o so ; Tliais must bo humoured. Do you. ParmenOj take care that they are brought hither. Par. Certainly. Ph^d. For the next two days then, Thais, adieu ! Thais. And the same to you, my Phaedria ; do you desire aught else ? Ph^d. What should I desire ? That, present with the Captain, you may be as if absent ; that night and day yoii iaay love me ; may feel my absence ; may dream of me ; may be impatient for me ; may think about me ; may hope for me ; may centre your delight in me ; may be all in all with me ; in tine, if you will, be my veri/ life, as I am yours. {Exeunt Ph.edria and Pakmeko. Scene III. Thais alone. Thais, (to J/erself.) Ah wretched me ! * perhaps now he [puts but little faith in me, and forms his estimate of me fi*om the dispositions of other womejiJ By my troth, I, who know my own ^elI7 am vefy^ure of this, that I have not feigned anything that's false, and that no person is dearer to my heart than this -*<»«' pretty iicarlj: iLuicuvci"o«l lnr hrotlu-rrii younLj Inaii o( \rxy ijyuil I'lUiiily ; nnd lie has apiiointt'd tliis day to come to nw at uiy liouso. I'll no iuiiit.' iii-doui-s, and wait until lie comes. {She (/ucs into her ACT THE SECOND. Scene I. Enter rn.KDiUA and r.\HMr.\o. Th v.D. !Mind that those people ui-e taken there, as F cidcroil. Pak. I'll do so. Vn.vx>. And carefully. Pak. It shall be done. Ph.ed. And with all speed. Pak. It shall be done. Pll.KD. Have you lunl sufficient instructions ? j Pak. Dear niel to ask the question, as though it were a [matter of difficulty. I wish that you were able, Phaedria,N to tind anythini; as easily as this present will be lost. Ph-ED. Together with it, I vii/srJf am lost, which concerns - me more nearly. Don't bear this with such a feeling of vexation. Par. By no means ; on the contrary, I'll see it done. But do you order anything else ? Piled. Set oti' my present with words, as far as you can ; and so far as you ai-e able, do drivo awp^y that riviLl-/>/^ Dlj iie fro ja^httr. Par. Pshaw ! I sliould have kept that in mind, even if you hadn't reminded me. ^ Ph.ed. I shall go into the country and remain there. Par. I agi-ee with you. (^Moves as if going.) Ph.ed. But hark you! - Par. What is it you want ? Ph.ed. Are you of opinion that I can muster resolution ) and hold nut so as not to come ])ack Avithin the time ■:^ Par. What, you? Upon my faith, I don't think so; for ■y 7S ETurucHus; Act IT. either youHl be retuminsj at once, or by-and-by, at night, ■want of sleep will be driving you hither. Ph.ed. I'll do some laborious work, that I may be continu- ally fati^ied, so as to sleep in spite of myself. Par. When wearied, you will be keeping awake ; by this -- you wiU be making it worse. (Ph.ed. Oh, you talk to no piu^ose, Parmeno : this soft- ness of spirit, upon my faith, must be got rid of; I indulge myself too much. Could I not do without her, pray, if then were the necessity, even for a whole three days ? Par. Whew! an entire three days! Take care what yo are aliout. Ph^ed. My mind is made up, {Exit. ScEXE II. Pajoieno alone. Par. [to Inmaelf.) Good Gods! Wliat a malady is this! That a man should become so changed through love, that li you wouldn't know him to be the same person ! Not any >• jone was there^ less inclined to folly than he, and no one ' more discreet or more temperate. But who is it that's coming this way? Hey-day! surely this is Gnatho, the Cap- tain's Parasite ; he's bringing along with him the damsel as a px-esent to her. Heavens ! How beautiful ! No wonder if I make but a sorry lig-ui'e here to-day with this decrepit Eunuch of mine. She surpasses Thais herself. {Stands aside.) Scene III. Enter Gnatho at a distance, leading Pamphila. GxA. {to JiimseJf.) Immortal Gods! how much does one man excel another ! What a difference there is between a wise person and a fool! This strongly came into mj ' Not an)/ one u'a-y,/ dirty, sickly, l»eset with nvsjs and years ; — " What's the meajiinsj of this garh'r" sjvid T; he ansivcred, "Because, wrvtch that I am. Tve lost what I possessed: see to what 1 am re«lucod. — all my acquaintances and friends forsjiko me." On this I felt contempt for him in comparison with myself "What!" said I, '• you pitiful sluL,'i,'ard, have you so managed mattei"s as to have no hope left ? Have you lost your wits together with your estate? Don't you see me, who have risen from the same comlition? What a com- > j>lexion I have, how spruce and wdl-dressetl, what portli- ness of iK'rson y I have everything, //r/ have nothing; and although I pos.sess nothing, .still, of nothing am I in want.' '• But I." said ht\ '• unha])pily, can neither lie a Imtt nor submit to blows."' ''What!" said I, ''do you su])po.se it is managed by those means? You are quite mi.staken, . Once upon a time, in the early ages, there was a calling for that class ; this is a new mode of coney-catching ; Jl, in fact, have been the tii-st to strike into this path./ There is a class of men who strive to be the fii-st in everything, but are not; tQ__these I make jfly ooiH-t; I do not pre- sent myself to theiu to he laughed at ; but I am the fii-st to laugh with them, and at the same time to admire their parts : whatever they say, I commend ; if they contradict that self-same thing, I commend again. Does any one deny ? I deny : does he affirm ? I affirm : in fine, ' Nor suhmit to hhws^ — Ver. 244. It has been remarked in the Notes to the Translation of IMautus that, the Para.ut auytliiui; t'lsf, pray? Tai;. Why so? Una. IVmuuso you are out of sjiirits. Tah. Not in the K-nst. GxA. ll'rlh don't l)o so; but what tliink you of tfiis< shive ? (poiiifiiK/ to firr.) Par. Rially, not amiss. Gna. {a,\-itlf:) li\G galkil tho follow. Pa II. {a.e running to and fro, or sitting up till daylight. Don't I make you happy? PAlt. 3Ie ? prodigiously! Gxa. That's my way with my friends. Par. I eommeud i/ou. ^ I'm sfani) — YeT. i'90. The Pirreus was the chief harbour of Athens, at the mouth of tlic Cepliisus, about three miles from the C ity. It was joined to tiie town by twt) walls, one of which was built by The- mi.stocles, and the other by IVMicles. It was the duty of the Athenian youth to watch iierc iu turn by way of precaution against surprise bv ni rales or the cuciay. 6^:. V. THE KINTCK. R ; whiiv ; Tior do T kn.nv wiu'iv I am myself, to liavo lent siylif, of lur. Wlu'iv to oiuiuiro for her. wlien> to seaivh for lier, • wliom to ask, wliieh way to turn, I'm at a loss. I liavt> only til is hope ; wherever she is, she cannot lonuj lie eoneealtMl. O what heaviteous features ! tVom this moment I hanish ail otlu'r wi>nien from my thoughts; I cannot endure these e\ery-tlay heauties. P.vit. {ii/iiirt.) Why look, here's the other one. He's Hay- ing .somethintj, I tlon't know what, ahout love. O unfortunate old man, their father ! This as.suredly is a youth, who, if ho does hoi^in, you will s;n- that the other one was mere play and pastime, comi)ared with what the madness of this one will cause. Ch.e. {to himself, aloud.) ^lay all the Gods and Goddes.se3 confound that old fellow who detained me to-day, and me as well who stopped for him, and in fact troubled myself a straw about him. But see, here's Pai-meuo. (AJdresainf/ him.) Good morrow to you. P.\.R. Wliy are yoii out of spirits, and why in such a hurry ? Whence come you ? Ch.e. \V1iat. I ? I'faith, I neither know whence I'm come, nor whither I'm going ; so utterly have I l(«t mysuLf. Par. How, pray ? * 1 - Cii.E. I'm injove. ' Yt (^ Y^' " P.VR. l^tinc,.) Ha ! \ Ch.e. Now, Parmeno, you may show what sort of a man you are. You know that you often promised me to this ejj'ect : " Cha^rea, do you only find some object to fall iii . love with ; I'll make you sensible of my usefulness in such ' mat tei-s." when I used to be storing up my father's provi- sions for you on the sly in your little room.^ Par. To the point, yo?/ simpleton. ' Ch.e. Upon my faith, this is the- fact. Now, then, kt yc^ur promises be made good, if you please, or if indeed the afl'air is a deserving one for you to exert your energies ipon. The girl isn't like our girls, whom their mothers are anxious to have ^vith shoulders kept doAvn, and chests well I ' In your little room) — Ver. 310. Though "cclhilam " scem.s to be considered by some to mcin " cupliourd " or ■' lurdor," it is more pn>- buble that it hcresiijnifics the little room which was appropriated to oaeh •lave in the fja Uy lor hid owu uie. 84 EUNUCHUs; Act II. girtlied,* that^-tbey may ])e sleBder. If one is a little inclinecrToplumpncss, they declare that she's traininjj for a boxer,' and stint her food ; although their constitutions are good, by their treatment they make them as slight as buhiishes ; and so for that reason they are admired, fw- sooth. Par. Wliat sort of a girl is this one of yours ? ChjE. a new style of beauty. \ Pak. {ironicalh/.) Astounding ! y / 1 CiiyE. Her complexion genuine,^ her flesh firm and full of H\xiciness.* ^ Par. Her age ? Ch.*:. Her age ? Sixteen. Par. The very flower of youth.' Ch.*;. Do you make it your care to obtain her for me (/* eitlier by force, stealth, or entreaty ; so that I only gain ^ lier, it matters not how to me. ^ SJiovlders kept doivn and chest.'i ivell girthed) — Ver. 314. Ovid, in the Art ot Love, B. iii., 1. 274, alludes to the " strophium " or "girth" Here retcrred to -. " For liigli shoulders, small puds are suitable : and let the girth encircle the bosom that is too prominent." Becker thinks that the "strophium" was diflerent from the "fascia" or "stomacher," mentioned in the Kemedy or Love, 1. 338: "Docs a swelling bosom cover all her breast, let no stomacher conceal it." From Martial we learn that the "strophium" was made of leather. * Training for a boxer)— \er. 315. " Pugilem." This means '• robust as a boxer," or " athlete." These persons were naturally considered as the types of robustness, being dieted for the purpose of increasing their Hesli and muscle. ■^ Comph'xiou genutuc) — Ver. 318. "Color verus." The same expression is used by Ovid, in the Art of Love, B. iii., 1. 164 : "Et luclior vero quan-itur arte color:" "And by art a colour is sought superior to the genuine one." ■• Fidl of juiciness) — Ver. 318. "Succi plenum." A similar expres- sion occurs in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, 1. 7S7, where Peripleco- mcnus wishes enquiry to be made for a woman who is " siccam, at siiccidam," " sober, but full of juice : " i. e. replete with the plumpness and activity ol youth. '" The vtrij flower of yov*h)~~Y(iT.Z\^. Ovid makes mention of the "Acs " or " bloom" oi youth, Art Oi lyove, B. ii., 1. 6t!3 : "And ilon"t you enquire what year she is now passing, nor under what Consulship she v.-isborn; a privilege which the rigid Censor possesses. And vois, (specially, if she has passed the bloom of youth, and her best years arc lied, and she now pulls out liie whitening hairs." S.-. V. THE ElNlt'Il. S-, Par. Wt'll, but to whom dot's the damsel heU.: j,' ? Cn.t:. That, i'taith, I don't kiiuw. r.vii. Whonoe diil slie nmioi' Cn.fi. ^V/u/, just as murh. V\v~ Where iloes she live ? Cii.K. Nor yet do I know that. i ~ Paii. Where did you see her? / A ' , Cll.E. In the street. : ^ Pak. How did you eome to lose her ? Cn.F- Why, that's what I was just now frettinic myself about ; ami 1 do not believe that there is one individual t>> whom all i^ood luek is a greater stranijer than to myself. What ill fortune this is! I'm utterly undone! Paii. What's the matter? Cii.E. Do you lusk me r Do you know Arehidemides. my father's kinsman and yeai-s'-niate '? Paii. Why nof? Cn.t:. He, while I was in full jmrsuit of her, met me. Paii. Unseasonably, upon my faith. Ch.e. Aye, unhappily, rather ; for other ord'nwrif matters are to be ealleil " unseasonable," Parmeno. It would be safe for me to make oath that I have not seen him for fully these six or seven months, until just now, when I le;ust wanted, and there was the least occasion. Come now! isn't this like a Vitality'? What do you say? Par. Extremely so. Ch.e. At once he came runnincj up to mo, from a consider- able distance, stooping, palsied, hangincj his lip, «//e who as-sisted a person in a dispute or difficulty were also his " advocati," and in this respect distantly ivocmbled the "eecond" or "friend" of a party in tlie modern (biol. li (Jie I'hormio, llcgio, Cratiuus, uud Crilo are introduced as Luc •advocati' 86 Eui.'ucHus ; Act 11 iTioming." In talking of this, an honr ela])sed.* I enquii'ed if lie wanted anything else. " That's all,"- said he. I left him. When I looked in this direction for the damsel, she had that veiy instant turned this way down this street of ours. Par. [aside.) It's a wonder if he doesn't mean her who has just now been made a present of to Tliais here. CllM. When I got here, she was nowhere to be seen. Par. Some attendants, I suppose, Avere accompanying the girl r Cii^. Yes; a Parasite, and a female servant. Par. {apart) It's the veiy same. [To Cii.erea.) It's all over with you ; make an end of it ; you've said your last.'^ CiitE. You are thinking about something else. Par. Indeed I'm thinking of this same matter. Ch^. Pi^ay, tell me, do you know her, or did you see her? Par. I did see, and I do know her; I am aware to what house she has been taken. Ch^. What, my dear Parmeno, do you know her, and are you aware where she is? P,\R. She has been brought here {pointing) to the house of Thais the Courtesan.^ She has been made a present to her. Ch^. What opulent person is-it, to be jH-esen^ing a gilt so precious as this ? Par. The Captain Thraso, Phsedria's rival. of Dcmiplio. Sec also the Paenulus of Plautiis, and the Notes to tliat riay in liohn's Translation. ' An lioiir elajhsed) — Yen 341. " ITora" is here used to signify the ]ong time, that, in his impatience, it appeared to him to be. '• It's all over with yott, — you've said your la.st) — Yer. 347. "llicet" and " conclamatum est," are words of mournful import, which were used with regard to the funeral rites of the Komans. "Iiicet,""you may begone," was s;iid aloud when the funeral was concluded. '' Concla- mare," implied tlie ceremony of calling upon the dead person by name, before light was set to the funeral pile ; on no answer being given, he was concluded to be really dead, and the pile was set fire to amid the cries of those present : " conclamatum est" would consequently signify that all hope has gone. ■' Thain tltr.: Cotirtcsnn) — Yer. 352. Cooke remarks here, somevliat hypercritically as it would seem : " Thais is not called ' mcreirix,' here opprcbiously, but to distinguish her fiom other ladies of the same nanio, V ho were not ot the same profe-soion." So. Y. Tiir rrNfcii. 87 Cu.E. An Tinploasnnt Imsiiu'ss for " li' |ir oi]iir, it flioiilvl Par. Ayo. antl if you did luit know what pivst'iit he id pittiiiij ai^iinst this pii'srnt. you wouhl say so still mow.. Cum. Troth now. what is it, in-ay? P.vii. A Euuui-h.' Cil.E. What! that unsiijlitly croature, pray, th.it ho pur- •ha.st'd y»>storda^,-»«rT>Td woman? Paii. That very s;inu\ , Cii.iiL To a certainty, the ijontlcman will ho hnndlcd out r/dooi-s. to^otw er with l>is present; but 1 wasn't aware that this Thais is ovn* neighhour. Par. It isn't lonij ^iiiicr .slir came. Cil.t:. Unhappy wreteh that I am! never to have seen her, rven. Come now, just tell me, is she as handsome us she ia reported to be':' Par. Quite. Ch.e. l>ut nothincT in comparison wiih tliis damsel of mine? Par. Another tliinu aituiicther. Cii.E. Trotli now, Parmouo, pritliee do contrive for me to cain po.ssession of her. Par. I'll do my best, antl use all my endeavours; I'll lend you my assistance. (Goiiif/.) Do you want anything else with me? Cn.E. WTiere are you jroins: now? Par, Home ; to take those slaves to Thais, as your broth(T ordered me. Cn.€L Oh, lucky Eunuch that! really, to be sent as a present to that house! ' A Eunuch — Yer. 356. Eunuchs formed part of the establishment 0*" we.iilhy persons, who, in imitation of the Eastern nobles, confided .the charge of their wives, danj^htci-s, or, mistresses to them. TlioiiLjli / Thais would have no such necessity for his services, Iier wisii to imitaie tiie " regina?," or " great ladies,"' would-Tiiake him a not unacceptiible present. ??ee tlic Addresses of Ovid to the Eunuch BagoUa in the Amours, B. ii., El. 2. 3. ■As she is rejHuteJ to 6e)j— Yer. 361. Donatus remarks this as an instance of the art of Terence, in preserving the probal)ility of Chairca's being received for the Eunuch. He shows hereby that he is so entirely a stranger to the family tliat he does not even know the person of Thais. It is also added that she has not been Ion? in the neighbour- hood, and he has been on duty at the Pincus. The meaning of his n-.Tft is, that, not knowing Thais, he will not have an oppurtuuity oi seeing lUe girl. ' 83 . --< '-''■ EuxucHus; Act II.. Sc. V. Par. Why so? Ch/E. Do you ask ? He will always see at home a fellow- 'serv^ant of consummate beauty, and be convei-siiig with her; he will be in the same house with her; sometimes he will take his meals with her ; sometimes sleep near her. Par. Wliat now, if you yourself were to be this foitunate person ? Cum. By what means, Parmeno? Tell me. Par. Do you assume his dress. Ch^e. His dress! Well, what then? Par. I'll take you there instead of him. CHjE. {musing.) Iheav i/oii. Par. I'll say that you are he. Ch^. I understand you. VxR. You may enjoy those advantages which you just now said he icould enjoy ; you may take your meals together with her, be in company with her, touch her, dally with her, and sleep by her side; as not one of these women is j acquainted with you, nor yet knows who you are. Besides, -|j you are of an age and figure that you may easdy pass for a {■ eunuch. ' Oh-E. You speak to the purpose ; I never knew better counsel given. Well, let's go in at once ; dress me up, take me away, lead me to her, as fast as you can. Par. \Vliat do you mean? Eeally, I was only joking. Cii.E. You talk nonsense. Par. I'm undone ! Wretch that I am ! what have I done ? (Ciij-:rea pushes him along.) Whither are you pusliing me ? You'll throw me downi presently. I entreat you, be quiet. Cii^. Let's be off. {Fushes him.) Par. Do you still persist ? Chje. I am resolved upon it. Par. Only take care that this isn't too rash a project. Cil^. Certainly it isn't ; let me alone for that. Par. Aye, but I shall have to })ay the penalty^ for this ? Ch^. Pshaw! ' Have to -pay the penalt)/) — Yer. 381. "In me cudetur faba." literallj', "the bean will be struck " or "laid about me;" meauini,', " I shall have to smart for it." There is considerable doubt what is the origin of this expression, and this doubt existed as early as the time of Donatus. He says that it was a proverb either taken from the threshing of beans with a flail by the countrymen ; or elae from the circumstance of Act III., So. I. THE EiNrcii. so Vxii. We shall ho fjiiilty of a ilis!:^u'efnl action. Ch.e. "What, is it (li.s<;racotiil ' to he taken to the house of a Courte&m, and to ivturn the coniplinu'nt upon those tor-\ mentors who tivnt us ami our youthful aije so .sconifullv, ami ] wlio are always tormentini; us in every way ; to dupe them just as we aiv duped hy them? Or is it ri^ht and proper that in pivfeivnee my father should he wheedled ni/f of lii.t numri/ \*y deeeiti'ul jtretexts'r Tliose who knew of this woidd bhime me ; while all would think the other a meritorimis ait. r.vu. What's to l>e tlone in sueh ease ? If yon are deter- mineanion. OXA. Whew! You are telliii',' of a Kincc of refnu'd taste. TlULV. Aye, he is a pei-son of that .sort ; a man of l>ut very few aoquuintanoeships. GxA. {)isi,/f.) Indeed, of none,- I f mcv, if he's on intimate terms with you. Thra. All the peo])leeuvieil me, and attacked me jirivately. I didn't cai-e one straw. They envied me dreadfidly; hut one in j>articular, whom fhr Kiiif) had apjH>inted over the Indian elejihants.' Once, when he became jiarticularly trou- I'lesome, ''Prithee, Strato," sjiid I, "are you so lierce because you hold command over the wild beasts r" GxA. Cleverly said, upon my faith, and shrewdly. Astound- intr! You did give the fellow a home thrust. What said he?/ TllRA. Dumbfounded, instantaneously. GxA. How could he l)e otherwise ? Par. {apart.) Ye Gods, l>v o\ir trust in you ! a lost and misei-able fellow the one, and the other a scoundrel. TnKA. Well then, about that matter, Gnatho, the Avay ii 'vliich I touched u]) the Khodiau at a banquet — did I never tell you ? ' You understand) — Vcr. 40,"). lie says this at the very moment when he is at a loss what to say next; the Parasite obligingly steps in lo help him out with tlie ditticulty. * Indeed, q/'/ioHe) — Ver. 410. " Immo, nullorum arbitror, si tecum vivit." This expression which is used "aside," has two meanings, /.either ol which is complimentary to lite Captain. It may mean. " he has no society if he associates witi) you," making tiie Captain e(|uivalent to nobody ; or it may signify, " if he a.-^.^ociates with you he'll be sure to drive all his other acquaintaiMiiLS aw.iy." ^ Orer (he Indian elc]>haiit.s — Ver. 413. Here he shows his lofty position to perfection ; he dares to take down the pride of one who com- mandcd even the royal elephant.-;. The ]5ragi,'art Captain of Plautus comes into collision with the elephants themselves: 1.26. Artolrogns Bays to him, *' In what a fashion it was you broke the fore leg of even au vlcpUuui in lutiu wiih your Us.. '.' 92 EuxucHus; Act HL Gna. Never; out pray, do tell me. (Aside.) Tve heard it more than a thousand times, already, Thra. There was in my company at a banquet, this young man of Rhodes, whom I'm speaking of. By chance I had a mistress there ; he began to toy with her, and to annoy me. "What are you doing, sir impudence:" said I to the fellow; "a hare yourself, and looking out for gamer"* GxA. {j)retfndinrf to l(H(f/h very heartily.) Ha, ha, ha! — TilRA. What's the matter ? GxA. How apt, how smart, how clever; nothing could Le more excellent. Prithee, was this a saying of youi-s ? I fancied it was an old one. Thra. Did you ever iiear it before ? Gna. Many a time ; and it is mentioned among the first- rate ones. Thra. Itla^jLown. GxA. I'm sorry thoufili that it was said to a thoughtless young man, and one of respectability. Par. [apart.) May the Gods confound you! Gna. Pray, what did he do t Thra. Quite disconcerted. All who were present were dying with laughter ; in short, they were all quite afraid of me. Gna. Not without reason. Thra. But hark you, had I best clear myself of this to Thais, as to her suspicion that I'm fond of this girl ? Gna. By no means : on the contrary, rather increase her jealousy. Thra. Why so ? Gna. Do you ask me? Don't you see, if on any occasion she makes mention of Plutdria or commends him, to provoke you ' Looldna out for (lame ?) — Ver. 420. " Pulmentnm," more strictly speaking, " A nice bit." Patrick has tlie tollowiiig Note on tins passage: "'Lepus tnlc cs, et pnhiicntura qnseris !' A proverbial ex- pression in use at that time: tlic proper meaning of it, stripped of i;3 figure, is, ' You arc little more than a woman yourself, and do you want a mistress ] ' " ^''c learn liom Uonatus and Vopiscus, that Livius Androni- cus had used this proverb in his I'lays before Terence. Commentators who enter into a minute explanation of it offer many conjectures rather curious than solid, and of a nature not fit to be mentioned here. Donatus seems to think that allusion is made to a story prevalent among tJio ancieut naturalists that the hare was in the habit of changing its ec;. Sc. IT. TIIK KIMCIL '.).} Thka. T uiuli'ivtinl. GxA. Tlmt siich may not be the case, thin uictlxxl ih tin- only ivnuuly. When she speiiks of riiiedriu. fio yon instantly f tiifiition I'aniphila. If at any time she sjiys, *' Let's invite Ph:v(lria to make one," Jo yon say, "Let's ask ranipliila to sing." If she praises his gooil looks, do you, on the other hand. ])raise hei-s. In short, do yuu return like for like, whnh will mortify her. - TiiH.v. If, indeeil, she loved me,* this might he of some nse, Gnatho. Gna. Since she is impatient for and loves that which ^ you give her. she ahvady loves you ; as it is, f/ini, it is an eji.<;y matter for her to feel vexed. She will he always afraid lest the pn-sents whit-h she lu-rself is now getting, you may on some occasion he taking elsewhere. Tini.\. Well si\id ; that never came into my mind. -- (.Jna. Nonsense. You never thought about it ; else how much more readily would you youi'self have hit upon it, Thi-aso ! SCEXE II. Hiiter Tn.\TS/*ro/n her Jioirse, af fended hj/ Pythias. Thais, {as she conies out.) I thought I just now heard the Captain's voice. And look, here he is. Welcome, my dear Thi-aso. TiiRA. O my Thais, my sweet one, how are you ? How much do you love me in return for that music girl ? Par. (apart.) How polite! What a beginning he has made on meeting her ! Thais. Veiy much, as you deserve. Gna. I ^'s go t o din ner th en. (Jb Thraso.) Wliat do you stand here tor V " Par. (apart.) !Th*y!;i.^iiinnv^^i^^thoT one : you woidd declare tliit he was born for his belly's sake. ' //, indeed, she loved 7?ie) — Ver. 446. Colman lias the followini; Note upon this passage • " I am at a lo.ss to determine whether it waa in order to show the ali.surdity of the Captain or from inadvertence in t'ae Toet, that Terence heni ra: Thais.) JNEake trial of hiiu in literaturo, try hini in exercises. ^ ' In exercises) — Ver. 477. Reference will be found matle to Die " pahvstraa," or " places of exercise," in the Notes to the Translatioa of Piaulud. F- TL TIIK KIM-CII. '.>5 H!ul in music ; I'll warnint him wi-ll .skilli-tl in wliat it Itfivuiu-.* : 1,'i'ntK'man to kiit>'.v. rilicv. That Eunuch, if occd-siou scrvcil,' oven in my s.>l>,r uses. 1 ■ V.UL And he who has sent those thinija makes no ruqucst • lit you will live tor him alone, and that for his own sake fal;t'i"s may he excUuled ; he neither tells of hattles nor uliows his sc}U"s, nt)r does ho restrict you as {lookim/ at TllKASO) a certain pei-son does; hut when it is not inconve- nient, whenever you think tit, whenever you have the time, he is satisticd to lie aihnittcil. TuiLV. {to Gnatho, (•oii/r»i/)tiiousIi/.) It appears that this is the servant of some be<;i;arly, wretched master. GxA. Wliy, faith, no person, I'm quite sure of that, could possibly i>ut up with him, who had the means to get anotlier. Par. \\>u hold your tongue — a fellow whom I consider ' I'neath all men of the very lowest grade: for ^vhen you m l-ritry ^' ii uri i 'lt' t ' ihilt'T thnt f 'l l "v {r^i'tfi't-f at .i'iikaso), I 7foTcTic\e you could pick your victuals out of the ccrij ilamcs.' Titii-V. Are we to go now ? Thais. I'll take these in-doors first {poiutiiifj to Cii.KunA and the ^•Etiiiopi.vn). and at the same time I'll order what I wish ; after that I'll return immediately. {Goes into the house icith P^tiilvs, Ch.ickea, and the Slave.) Thra. {to GxATHo). I shall be off. Do you wait for her. Par. It is not a proper tiling for a general to be walk- ing in tlie street with a mistress. TiiR-V. Why should I use many word.^ with you ? You are the very ape of your master. {Exit Pahmfixo. Gna. {laughimj.) Ha, ha, ha ! ' If occasion sertrd) — Ver. 479. The Aposiopcsis in this line is ■ 'Tj aptly introduced, on account of^ho pre.n the funeral pile, and it was eonsidered tho greatest possible affront to tell a person that he was capable of bnat«.U- iag thcde tbin^ out ol ^Le tiauiud. 9n EUNTJCHUS; Act III. Thka. What are you laughing at ? Gna. j\.t what you were mention'mg just now ; that saying, too, about the Rhodian, reciirred to my mind. But Thais is coming out. Thra- You go before ; take care that eveiy thing is ready at home. Gna. Very welL {Exit. Se-enter Thais, icith Pythias and Female ATTE^^).^TS. Thais. Take care, Pythias, and be sure that if Chremea should happen to come,^ to beg him to wait ; if that is not fonvenient, then to come again ; if he cannot do that, bring him to me. Pyth. I'll do so. Thais. "Well, what else was I intending to say? 0, do you take particiilar care of that young woman j be sui'e that you keep at home. Thra. Let us begone. Thais, (to her atteiidants.) You follow me. {E.vennt Thais and TnnASO, followed hg the Attendants. Pythias yoe» into the house.) SCEXE III. Enter Chremes. Ciirem:. {to himself.) Why, really, the more and more I think of it, I shouldn't be surprised if this Thais should be doing me some great mischief ; so cunningly do I perceive myself beset by her. Even on the occasion when she hrst requested me to be fetched to her (any one might ask me, *• What business had you with her ?" Really I don't know.) When I came, she found an excuse for me to remain there ; she Siiid that she had been offering a sacri- lice,- and that she was desirous to speak upon some im- portant business with me. Even then I had a suspicion ' If Chremes nJinuld happen to come) — Ver. 501. This is the first nllusion to the arrangement which ultimately causes the quarrel between Thais and tlie Captain. '^ Had heeji offtriucj a sacrifice) — Ter. 518. It was the custom to eaorifiee before entering on atlairs of inino'-tance Thus, too, Jupiter, in the Amphitryon of I'lautus, 1. 1'38, si)eaKa of oHeriug sacrifice on hiri s:.fi- rcturu. K •. IV. THE ElXl-CH. 07 it all those things were lifing tluiie for hi«r artful purposcK, .' takes lier plnoo besiilo ine ; jiays evi-ry attintiuu tu iv.r ; -■ tks an ojiportunity of conversation. Wlu-n t/ir coiirrrsa/ion (liiXUeil, she turned otl* tt> this j>oint— how hmg sinee niv father ami niothrr dievl ? I Siiiwin<,' niL* wlun-ver 1 jjo, to be ileafeninj; me. worryinij me to (leuth. with askinj^ (|ues- tions; why ///h.v tninsjmrted, or why .w overjoyed, whither I'm going, whenee I'm come, where 1 pit this garb, what is mv object, wliether I'm in my senses or wln'ther ilownriLjht mail H Ant. {apart.) I'll accost him, and I'll do liim the favour which I see he's wishing for. {Jccosfini/ him.) Cluerea, why are you thus transported? What's the object of this garb 'r Why is it that you're so overjoyed ? What is tho meaning of this ? Are you quite right in your seuaes ? Why ilo you stare at me ? What have you to say ? Ch.e. O joyous day ! O welcome, my friend ! There's not one in all the world whom I would rather wish to see at this moment th;in yom*sel£ A>T. Pray, do tell me what all this means. Ch.e. Nay rather, i'faith. I beg of you to listen to me. Do you know the mistress whom my brother is so foud of? Ant. I know her ; I suppose you mean Thais? CuREM. The veiy same. Ant. So far I recollect. Ch.£. To-day a certain damsel was presented to her. ^Vlly now should I extol or commend her beauty to you, Antipho, since you youi-sclf know how nice a judge of beauty I am ? I have been smitten by her. Ant. Do you say so ? Ch.e. If you siiw her, I am sure you would say she's exquisite. What need of many words? I fell in love with her. By good luck there was at our house a certain Emiuch, ft'hom my brother had purcha.sed for Thais, and he had not IS yet been sent to her. On thi§^ occasion, I'ai'meno, our lervant, made a suggestion to me, which I adopted. * To meet my deaOi) — Ver. 6^0. There is a passage in the Othello of Shakspcare extremely similar to this : " If I were now to die, 1 were now to be mojl happy; lor, I fear, iiy soul hath her content so al'solutc, That not another comfort, like lo this, Succeeds in unknown fate." h2 100 EUNUCuus; Act III. AxT. What was it ? CiivE. Be quiet, and you shall hear the sooner ; to change clothes with him, and order myself to be taken there in his stead. Ant. What, instead of the Eunuch ? Ch^. The fact. Ant. To receive what advantage, pray, from this plan ? Ch^. Do you ask ? That I might see, hear, and be in company with her whom I Invpd^ Ar.tjpl-iri. — ^^s that a slight motive, or a jwor reason ? I was presented to the woman. 8he, as soon as she received me, joyfully took me home to her house and entrusted the damsel Ant. To whom ? To you ? Ch^. To me. '" Ant. {h-onicalhj.) In pei'fect safety, at all events. ChjE. She gave orders that no male was to come near her, and commanded me not to stir away from her ; that I was to remain alone with her in the inner apartments.^ Looking bashfully on the ground, I nodded assent. Ant. {ironicafli/.) Poor fellow ! Cii-'E. {continuinc/.) " I am going out," said she, " to dinner." She took her maids with her ; a few novices of girls'' re- mained, to be about her. These immediately made prepara- tions for her to bathe. I urged them to make ha.ste. Wliile H ])reparations were being made, the damsel sat in a room looking \\\) at a certain painting.^ in which was represented how Jove* is said once to have sent a golden shower into the 'j bosom of Danae. I myself begun to look at it as well, and ^ In the inner apartments) — A''er. 679. The " Gynecaea," or women's ajiartmcnts, among the Greeks, always occupied the interior part of the liouse, wliich was most distant from the street, and there they were kept in great seclusion. ■ A few novices of girls) — Yer. 5S2. These " novieiae " were young slaves recently bought, and intended to be trained to the calling of a Courtesan. •^ At a certain painting) — Ver. 5S4. See the story of Jupiter and Panae, the daughter of Acrisius, king of Argos, in the Metamorphoses of Ovid, B. iv., 1. 610. Pictures of Venus and Adonis, and of Jupiter anil Ganymede, arc mentioned in the^Menajchmi of Plautus; 1. 1^4, and ji lintings on tiie walls are also mentioned in the Jlostellaria of I'lautus, 1. S21, wlure Tranio tries to impose upon Theuropides by pretending to point out a picture of a crow between two vultures. * How Jove) — Ver. SS-l. Douatus remarks here that this was " a verj •. VI. THE ErNrrii. V^ ns he h;i(l in fovnioi" tiiiu-s pl.iyod the like fjniiu;. I lelt cxtrt'inely dcli^'htt'il tlmt a (iml shotild I'liani^o lumsi-lf into niomy, iind slily come throuixh tlie tiles of another pei-son's house, to deivive the fair tMie hy nieann of a sliower. I'liit what God was ////.«»/ lie who shakes tlie most lofty temples of lieaven with his thunders. Was T, a poor eivature of a - mortal,' not to do the same? Certainly, I was to do it. and without hesitation. While I was thinkimjover these matters with myselt, the damsel meantime was fetched away to hatlie; she went, batlied, and came hack ; after wliieh they laiil her on a coueh. I stood waitinj* to see if they gave me any ordei*s. One came up, "Here. Donis," said she, " take tin.-' tan.* and let her have a little air in this fa.sliion, while we are hatliin;^ ; wlien we have hathed, if you like, yon may hathe too." With a demuiv air I took it. Ant. Really, I should vi'ry much have liked to see that \ impudent lace of yours just then, and what ligurc a great ) donkey like yon made, holding a fan ! Cn.E. {continniiiij.) Hardly had .-^he said this, when all, in a moment, betook themselves otf : aw.ay they went to bathe, and chattered aloud;' just as the way is when masters ai-e ab.sent. Meanwhile, sleep overtook the dam.sel ; I slily looked askance* proper piece of furniture for the house of a Courtes,in. giving an example of loose and mercenary love, calculated to excite wanton • thoughts, and at the same time hinting to the young lover that he must make his w.ay to the bosom of his mistress, like Jupiter to Uanae, in a siiower of gold. Oh the avarice of harlots !" A poor rrratiire of a mortal) — Vcr. 591. "Homuncio." Houses this word the bettor to contrast his .abject nature as a poor mortal with the majesty ot .hipiter. St. Augustin refers to this p.assagc. The pre- ceding line is s.'vid i>y Donatus to be a parody on a piis-sagc by Eunius. - Take this jan) — Ver. 595. As to the fans of the ancients, see the Trinummus of Plautus. 1. 252, and the Note to the passage in Bohn's Translation. See also the Amours of OvfrT. B. iii , El. 2, 1. 38. ■' Chattered aloud) — Ver. 600. This line l)ears a strong resemblance to two lines found in Ansteys new ]5:ith Guide ; " And how the young Ituiies all set up their clacks, All the while an old woman was nilibing their backs." * / slily looked askance) — Ver. 601. This way of looking aside, "limis,"" is mentioned in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, where Mil- phidippa tells Acroteleutiura to look at the Captain sideways, " .Vspiuito limis," 1. 1217: also in the" Bacchides, 1. 1131. Those familiar wiili the workr of Ilogurth will readily call to mind the picture of Bedlam 5/wA^ 15^^ r K/S 'EUNUcnus; Act III, Sc. YI. through the fan;' this way {shoidng hoic) : at the same time I looked roimd in all directions, to see whether all was quite safe. I saw that it was. I bolted the door. Ant. What then ? Cum. Eh ? What then, you simpleton ? Ant. I OAvn I am. Ch^. Was I to let slip the opportunity offered me, so excel- lent, so short-lived,'' so longed-for, so unexpected. In that case, i'faith, I really should have been the person I was pretending to be. Ant. Troth, you ceii;ainly are in the right ; but, meantime, what has been arranged about the club-entertainment ? ChjE. All's ready. Ant. You are a clever hand ; but where ? At your house ? Ch.*:. No, at Discus's, our freedman. Ant. That's a long way off. Ch^. Then let's make so much the gi'eater haste. Ant. Change your dress. Ch.e. Where am I to change it ? I'm at a loss ; for at present I'm an exile from home ; I'm afraid of my brother, lest he sliould be in-doors : and then again of my father, lest he should have returned from the country by this. Ant. Let's go to my house ; there is the nearest place for you to change. Ch^. You say right. Let's be off; besides, I want to take counsel with you about this girl, by what means I may be able to secure the futui-e possession of her. Ant. Very well. {Exeunt. in the TJake's Progress, where the j'oung woman is looking askance through her fan at the madman in his cell. ' Throiajh (he /a)i) — \cT. 602. This shows that the fan was pro- bably one made of thin boards, and not of featliers. " So short-lived) — Xer. 605. Colnian has the following Note here: " Short indeed, considering the number of incidents, which, according to Chserea's relation, are crowded into it. All the time allowed for this adventure is the short space between the departure of Thais and Thraso and the entrance of C'lui'rea; so that all this variety of business of sleeping, bathing, ravishing, &c., is despatched during the two soliloquies of Antipho and Cluvrea, and the short Scene between Chremes and Pythias. The truth is, that a very close adherence to the unities often drives the Poet into as great absurdities as the perfect violaliou of tlitiUi." A-otlV., Sc. L TiiF ru-Nucii. lo3 ACT THE FOURTH. SCKNE I. ^ Enter DouiAS, with a casket in her hand. DoRlAS. {to herself.) So may tlic Gotls liU'ss me, but from wliat I have seen, I'm terril'ly nlVaid tliat this mad tellow will be giiilty of some disturbance to-day or oi some violence to Thais. For when this young man, the brother of the damsel, arrived, she begged the Cajttain to order liim to be admitteil ; he immediately began to get into a passion, ajid yet didn't dare refuse ; Thais still insisted that lie woukl invite the man in. This she did for the sake of detaining him ; because there was no opportunity ji(.^t then of telling him what she wanted to disclose about her sister. He was invited in, and took his seat. Then she enteivd into discourse with him. But the Captain, fancying it was a rival brought before his iw// eyes, wanted in his turn to mortify her : " Hark you, boy," said he, " go fetch Pamphila. that she may amuse us here." She exclaimed, "At a banquet I Certainly not." The Captain still persisted to a downright quaiTel. Meanwhile my mistress secretly took off her golden jewels,^ and gave tliem to me to take away : this is a sign, I'm sure, that she'll betake herself from tiiere as soon as she possibly can. {Goes info the house. ' Took off her golden jewels) — Ver. 627. This was probably because it was contrary to the laws of Athens for a Courtesan to appear witli gold or jewels in the street. JIadame Baeier suggests another reason, in which there is some force, alttough it is ridiculed by Cooke. Thais may have supposed that the Captain, when irritated, might not have Bcrupled to take them away from her. Indeed, nothing would be more probable, than that he would be ready to take them by way if Becurity lor the return of the i-lave, whom he had thus, to no purpo.^f, presented to her. In relerence to the preceding line, we may remark that it was not customary among the Greeks lor females of good ch.i- racter to appear at table with stran^rers. jU A V'i I f/W EU^-UCIIUS: Act IV. ,J I? /l^ SCEXE II. 1 ^«i'^r Ph.edria, Ph^d. {to himself.) While 1 was going ^ into the country, I began on the road, as it ntiostly ha])pens when there is any anxiety on the mind, to reflect with myself upon one thing after another, and upon eveiything in the worst light. What need of words ? While I was musing thus, inadvertently I passed my country-house. I had already got some distance from it, when I perceived this ; I returned again, really feeling quite uneasy ; when I came to the very turning that leads to the house, I came to a stop, and began to reason with myself; " What ! must I stay here alone for two days without her ? Well, and what then? It's nothing at all. What 't Nothing at all ? Well now, if I haven't the privilege of touching her, am I not even to have that of seeing her ? If I may not do the one, at least I may the other. Surely to love at a distance'^ even, is better than nothing at all." I purposely passed the house. But how's this, that Pythias is suddenly hui'iying out in such a fright ? {Stands aimrt.) Scene III. Enter Pythias and Dorias in haste from the house of Thais. Pyth. {aloud!) Where, wretch that 1 am, shall I find this wicked and impious fellow P Or where look for him ? ' While I icas going) — Yer. G29. Donatus remarks that here the Poet artfiillj' finds a reason to bring Phaedria back again ; as he at first witli equal art sent him out of the way, to give probability to those incidents necessarj' to happen in his absence. ■^ At a distance)— Yer. 640. " Extremd linciV" There have been many suggestions offered for the oriuin of this figurative expression. Some suggest that it allude- to the last or lowest stage of the supposed ladder of love ; others that it refers to the first or clenieniary line traced by the student, when beginning to learn the art of painting. It is however more generally thought to be a metaphor taken from the chariot-races in the Circus, where, in going round the turning-place, he who was nearest was said "currere in priniil linca,;" the next, "in Bpcunda ;" and so on to the last, who took the widest range, and was eaid to run '• in exirema liuei." So. TTI. THE EUM\II, 105 That lie slioulil daro to coinniit so ixiulaoions a crime us this! I'm ruiiiotl outrij^ht ! ru.KD. (aparf.) I thvad wliat this may be. I'ytu. Bositlcs too, the villain, al"t«.T ho hail alniscnl tlio jjirl, rent all tlio poor thing's (.lotlics, and tore her hair as well. rH.T:n. {apart, in surprise.) Ha ! rvTH. It' ho wore just now in my reach, how eagerly would 1 lly at that villain's eyes witli luy nails! Tii-KD. {apart.) Ueally I can't imagine what distui'bance lias hajipencd to us at home in my absence. I'll accost them. {Going up to t/iciii.) What's the matter? Why in suih haste ? Or whom are you looking for, Pythias ? rvTiI. Why, Pha'dria, whom should I bo looking for ? Away with you, as you deserve, with such fine presents of youi-s. Pii.F.D. What is the mattei ? Pytu. What, do you a.sk ? The Lnnuch you gave us, what confusion he has caused. lie has ravished the girl whom the Captain made present of to my mistress. I'u.F.D. What is it you .>;ay r' Pyth. I"m mined outright! Piled. You are drunk. Pytu. I wish that they were so, who wish ill to me. DoiUAS. Oh, prithee, my dear Pythias, wliat a monstrous thing this is ! Pir.T;D. You are out of your senses. How could a Eunuch possibly do this? Pyth. I know nothing about liim : as to what he has done, the thing sjK'aks for itself The girl is in tears; and when- you ask her what's the matter, she docs not dare tell. But lie, a precious fellow, is nowhere to^be seen. To my sorrow I suspect too, that when he took liimself off he carried something away from the house. Pu.ED. I camiot enough wonder, whither this varlet can pos.sibly have betaken himself to any distance fi-om here ; imle.ss perhaps he has returned home to our house. Pyth. Pray, go and see whether he is there. Pa.r.D. I'll let you know immediately. {Goes into tha home o/'Lal>ly it wa.- I'mtu thum that the 'motley ' descended to the lools and buffoons of the Midv itself Ph.ed. (apart to DoRUS.) Step aside a little this way. Do you hear? (DoRUS steps aside.) A little further stiU. Th;>t will do. Now teU me this once more ; did Chserea take yoiu* clothes off you ? DoRUS. He did. Ph^d. And did he put them on ? DoRUS. He did. Ph^d. And was he brought hci-e instead of you ? DoRUS. Yes. Ph^d. Gx'eat Jupiter ! O wicked and audacioiis fellow ! Pyth. Woe unto me! Now ^at last ^v^ll you believe that we have been insulted in a disgraceful manner ? Ph,ed. It is no wonder that you believe what the fellow says. (Aside.) What I'm to do 1 know not. (Aside io DoRUS.) Hjirk_yoUi_dcny-i^ oil again. (Aloud.) Can I n t this day extract the tnith from you ? Did you reaily ^ee my brother Chserea ? DoRUS._Na_^ Pn.ED. He can't be brought to confess without being punished, I see : follow me this way. At one moment he affirms, at another denies. (Aside.) Ask pardon of me. DoRUS. Indeed, I do entreat you, Phoedria. VnJED. (kickinq liim.) Be off in-doors. Douus. Oh! Oh! Ph^ed. (aside.) How in any other fashion to get decently out of this I don't know ; for really it's all up tcith iiir. (Aloud, icith pretended indignation.) Will you be trifling with me even here, you kuave ? (Follows Dorus into the house.) So. \'L Tilt: KiMiu. lO'j Scene V. Pythias and Dorias. Pyth. I'm ns certain that tliis is tho contrivance of Parniond as that I'm alive. DoKiAS. S(» it is. no iloiiht. PvTll. I'laith, I'll lind out a nicthotl to-dny to ho even ■with him. But now, what do you think ovight to be done, Dorias ? Dorias. Do you mean with reurard to this c;irl ? I*VTil. Yes ; whether I ouufht to mention it or be silent ? DoKiAS. Upon my word, if you are prudent, you won't know what you do know, either about the Eunueh or tho girl's misfortune. By this method you'll botli rid yourself of all per]>lexity, and have done a service to hei'.* Say this only, that Dorus has run away. PvTH. ril do so. Dorias. But don't I see Chremes? Thais will bo here just now. P\TU. "Why so ? Dorias. Because when I came away from there, a quarrel bad just commenced betweeu them. Pytu. Take in these golden trinlcets; I shall learn from him what's tlie matter. (Dorias ta/ces the casket info the house.) Scene VI. lEnfer Chremes, someichat dninh. Chrem. Heyday! upon my faith, I've been bamboozled: e wine that I've drunk has got the upper hand. But, sj >ng as I was reclining, how extremely sober I did seem to myself to be ; when I got up, neither feet nor senses were quite equal to their duty. Pyth. Chremes! ' Have done a service to her) — Ver. 722. ThonE:h some would have " illi," here to refer to the d.amscl, and others again to Phuedria, it is pretty cle.ir thnt Madame Dacier is right in su'^'gcsling that Thaia is tue per&ou mwuiu .110 EUNucuus; Act IV. U' Chrem. {turning round.) Wlio's that ? What, Pj^hias ; Ijdeai' me, how much more charming you now seem to me than a short time since ! Pyth. Troth now, you are much more meiTy, that's certain. Chrem. Upon my faith, it is a true saying, that ^yC^uua^ v_gro3KS cold without Cerea and Bacchus." But has Thais got here long before me ? Pyth. Has she already come away from the Captain's ? Chrem. A long time ago ; an age since. There has been a most violent quarrel between them. Pyth. Did she say notliiug about you following her ? Chrem. Nothing at all ; only, on going away, she gave me a nod. Pyth. Well now, wasn't that enough ? Chrem. Why, I didn't know that she meant that, until the Captain gave me an explanation, because I was dull of comprehension ; for he bundled me out of the house. But look, here she is ; I wonder how it was I got here before her. Scene YII. Enter Thais. Thais, {to lerself) I really do believe that he'll be here presently, to force her away from me. Let him come ; but if he touches her ^vith a single finger, that instant his eyes shall be torn out. I can put up with his impertinences and his high-sounding words, as long as they remain words : but if they are turned into realities, he shall get a drubbing. Chre.m. Thais, Pve been hei'e some time. Thais. O my dear Chi'emes, you are the very person I was wanting. Ai-e you aware that this quarrel took place on your account, and that the whole of this afiair, in fact, bore reference to yourself? I, Chrem. To me ? How so, pray ? r Thais. Because, while Pve been doing my best to recover and restore your sister to you, this and a great deal more lika ' it I've had to put up with. Chrem. Where is she ? '^luAis. At home, at mv house. S VTT. THK Kl'NUCH. Ill CllKEM. {sf(irfiii(f.) Hall! Thais. What's tho inattt>r? Slie has Won broni,'lit uj) in a niiiniKT worthy of yoiu-self and uf her. CuKEM. AVhat is it yi>u say ? Thais. That which is the faot. I Tor I present to yon, nor do I ask of yon any retnrn for Iut. CllKEM. Thanks are both felt and shall be returned in sueh way, Thais, as you ileserve. TuAis. But still, tiike care, Chronics, that you don't lose her, iH'fore you receive her from me ; for it is she, whom the Cai)tain is now comin<» to take away from me V>y force. Do vou ijo, rvthi;is, and bring out of the house the casket with the tokens.' Chkem. {looking doicn the side Scene.) Don't you see him, Tliais •? Pyth. {to Thais.) "WTierc is it put ? Thais. In the clothes' chest. Tiresome creature, why do you delay : (Pythias qocs into the house.) Chre.m. ^^'^lat a hirge body of troops the Captain is bring- ins: with him against you. Bless me ! Thais. Prithee, are you fi-ightened, my drar sir ? Chue>w Cret out with vou , Whiiti, T f'-if(^'*^'^""'^ ? There's not a man alive le^s so. Thais. TIku now is the time to prove it. Chrem. Why, I wonder what sort of a man you take me to be. \s. Thais. Nay, and consider this too; the person that you pave to deal with is a foreigner ; * of less influence than jj'ou, less known, and one that has fewer friends here. Chkem. Pm aware of that ; but it's foolish to run the risk of what you are able to avoid. I had rather we should ])revent it, than, having received an injury, avenge ourselves ' Casket tcith the toietis) — Ver. 752. It was the custom with the ancients when they expOfod their children, to leave with them some pledge or token of value, that they might afterwards be recoixnized by means of them. The castxstrophes of the Curculio, the Rudens, and other Plays of Plautus, are brought about by taking advantage of this circumstance. The reasons for using these tokens will be stated in a future Note. ■ h a foreigner) — Ver. 758. And therefore the more unlikely to obtain redress from an Athenian tribunal. See the Audria, 1. Sll, and the ^'oie to the pas&Oj^e. 1 112 ECKUCHUS, Act lY. upon mm. Do you jjo in and fasten the door, while I run across hence to the Fonim ; I should like us to have the aid of some legal adviser in this disturbance. {Moves, as if going.) Thais, {holding Jiitn.) Stay. Chrem. Let me go, I'll be here presently. Thais. There's no occasion, Chremes. Only say that she is your sister, and that you lost her icJien a little gii'l, and have now recognized her ; then show the tokens. Se-enfer 'Pythias from the house, with the trinkets. Pyth. {giving them to Thais.) Hei-e they are. /' Thais, {giving them to Chremes.) Take them If he offers any violence, summon the fellow to justice ; do you understand me ? Chrem. Perfectly. Thais. Take care and say this with presence of mind. Chrem. I'll take care. Thais. Gather up your cloak. {Aside.) Undone ! the very ]iei'son whom I've provided as a champion, wants one himself. {T/iei/ all go into the house.) SCEN-E VIII. Safer TiLRASO, followed bg GsATHO, Sang A, and other Attendants. Thra. Am I to submit, Gnatho, to such a glaring affi'ont as this being put upon me ? I'd die sooner. Simalio, Donax. Syriscus, follow me ! First, I'll storm the house. Gna. Quite right. Thra. I'll carry oflf the girL Gna. Very good. Thra. I'll give her own self a mauling. Gna. Very proper. Thra. {arranging the men.) Advance hither to the main body, Donax, with your crowbar ; you, Simalio, to the left wing ; you, Syriscus, to the right. Bring up the rest ; where's the centiu-ion Sanga, and his maniple* of rogues ? ' And his maniple) — Ver. 775. We learn from the Fasti of Ovid, B. iii.,1. 117-8, tiiat in early tirnvs the Roman armies carried bundles or wisps of hay upon poles by way ot standards. '" .\ ^onjr pole used to bear the eh vatcd wisps, from which circumstano<» the manipular soldie OO. VIII. THE EINVTU. 113 San. {coviinrj fonrard.) See, luiv lie I'.i. I Thk.\. What, you lK)ol)y, «lo you think of flc;]itini]C with a ishrli)Ut.' to be bfini^ing that hrre ? San. What, I ? 1 know tlio valour of tho grniTal, and the prowess of the soKliers ; ami that this eouUl not jH>s.sihly go on without blootlsheil ; how was I to wipe the wounds ? Tint\. Wliere are the others ? S.vN. rhiijrue ou you, wlmt othere ? Saiinio is the only oiio j left on guaril at lionie. TliiLV. (/() CiNATiio.) Do y a can', itvini ploaso. You don't I kn'>w what kiiul oi man you an.' almsiiii; imw. CmtKM. (to CiN.vTiio.) Won't you 1k> otl" tVoin lion;? I)o you know how uiattoi's stand with you F If you cause any distuihancc here to-day. I'll make you nMuemher the place, ainl ilay. and nie too, for the rest of your life. (Jna. I pity you, who are making so great a man as I this yi>ur enemy. I CliKK.M. Ill break your head this instant if you are not olF. ' GxA. Do you really say .so, puppy r Is it that you are at? Thka. (/u Cmu:Mi>i.) What fellow are you? What ilo i you mean ? What business have you with her? ! Cinu:M. I'll let you know : in tlie first place, I assert that { she is a freehorn woman. Thr.v {star/im/) Ha! CiiuKM. Acitizen of Attica. TiiKV. \MTe%t-! » CiiKKM. My o^^^l sister. TiiiLV. Brazen face ! Chkem. Now, therefore. Captain, I give you warning ; don't you use any violence towiu-ds her. Thais, I'm going ■ to Sophrona, the nm-se, that I may bring her here and shew her these tokens. Thr.\. What ! Are you to prevent me from touching wh.it's my own ? CiiREM. I will prevent it, I tell you. Gna. {fo TiiiiASO.) Do you hear him ? He is convicting hinisi'lf of theft. Is not that enough for you ? Thil\. Do you say the same, Thais? Thais. Go, tind some one to answer you. {She and Cll HEMES yo au-ajifrom the icindoic.) TnK.v. (fo Gxatiio.) "What are we to do now? Gna. Wliy, go back again : she'll ^oon be with you, of her own accord, to entreat forgiveness. Thiia. Do you think so ? G.VA. Certainly, yes. I know the disposition of women : ■w^icn you will, they won't ; when you won't, they set ir hearts upon you of their own inclination. Thra. You judge right. GxA. Shall I dismiss the army then ? TuR.\. Whenever you like. i2 116 EUNUCHUS; Act Y. Gna. Sanga, as befits gallant soldiers,* take care in your turn to remember your bomes and heartlis. San. My thougbts bave been for some time among the saucepans. ^~€rTX.. You are a wortby fellow. Thra- {putting Mmself at their head.) YquJoUottjh© tbis way. _ {Exeunt omnes. ACT THE FIFTH. Scene I. Enter Thais /row her house, followed hj Pythias. Thais. Wbat! do you persist, bussy, in talking ambi- guously to me? "I do know;" "I don't know;" "be bas gone oil ;" " I bave beard ;" " I wasn't tbere." Don't you mean to tell me plainly, whatever it is ? The sjirl in tears, with her garments torn, is mute ; the Eunuch is off : for wbat reason ? Wbat bas happened ? Won't you speak ? Pyth. Wret(^ that I am, what am I to say to you? Thty declare that he was not a Eunuch. Thais. Who was be then ? Pyth. That Chjerea. Thais. AMiat Chaji-ea? Pyth. That stripling, the brother of Pba^di'ia. Thais. What's that you say, you bag ? Pyth. And I am satisfied of it. Thais. Pray, wbat business bad be at my bouse ? What brought him tbere ? Pyth. I don't know ; unless, as I suppose, be was in love with Pamphila. Thais. Alas! to my confusion, unhappy woman that I am, I'm undone, if what you tell me is time. Is it about this that the girl is crying ? Pyth, I beUeve so. ' As befil3 gallnyit soldiers^— Yer. 814. Beaumont and Fletcher not improbably had this scene in view in their pictr.re of the mob rciriment in Philas'.er. The ragged regiment which t^hakspcare places under the commaml of Falstaff was not very unlike it, nor that which owned the valiant lijnibastes Fuiioso as its Captain. 5c. II. THE KiNircir. 117 TiiAis. IIow say you, \\m mrh-jiulo? Did I n;)t wuu jrou iihout this very thing, when I was going away liuiij hire ? rvTit. What oould T do ? Just as you ordered, slie waa entrusted to his eare only. Thais, llu.^sy, I've l)een entrusting the slieep to the wolf. I'm (Mite aslianied to liave been inipo.sed up-j;^ in this way. What .sort ot" man was he "r^ rvTU. Hus!»I luish! mistress, jn^ay; we are all riglit. Ilery We have tlie very man. Ta.vis. Wlu-re is he ? Pyth. Why there, to the left. Don't you see ? Thais. I see. Pyth. Order him to bo seized as quickly as possible. Thais. What ean we do to him, simpleton ? Pyth. What do to him, do you ask ? Pray, do loak at him ; if his lace doesn't seem an impudent one. Thais. Not at all. Pytu. Besides, what efirontery he has. Scene XL Enter Cii.erea, in the Euxucii s dress, on ilie otlicr side of the staye. Ch.e. {to himself.) At Antipho's,' both of them, father and mother, just as if on purpose, were at home, so that I couldn't any way get in, but that they must have seen me. lu the meantime, while I was standing before the door, a certain acquaintance of mine was coming full upon me. A\'hen I espied him, I took to my heels as fast as I could down a narrow unfrequented alley ; thence again to another, and thence to another ; thus have ^I been most dreadfully harassed with running about, that-'no one might recognize me. But isn't this Thais that I see '? It is she. I'm at a stand. What shall I do ? But what need I care ? What can she do to me ? ' At Antipho's) — Ver. 839. Madame Dacier here observes that Chsrea assies yj;ry nat.ural reasons for not having chantred liis dress; in which the art of Terence is evident, since the sequel of the i'laj makes it absolutely necessary th.it Chsereu -iiould appear again before Tbain in the habit which he wore nrhiie in the house. V\ 118 EUNUCHUS; Act V. Thais, (fo Pythias.) Let's accost him. {ToCk.xkea.) Good Mister Dorus, welcome ; tell me, have you been r unnin g away ? CHiE. Madam. I did so. Thais. Are yau quite pleased with it ? Ch^. No. / Thais. Do you fancy that you'll get off with impimity ? / Chje. Forgive this one fault ; if I'm ever guilty of ano- 'ther, then kill me. Thais. Were you in fear of my severity ? Ch^. No. Thais. No? What then? Ch.e. (jjointivff at Pythias.) I was afraid of her, lest she might be accusing me to you. Thais. What had you done ? Ch.e. a mere trifle. \ Pyth. Come now, a trifle, you impudent fellow. Does his appear a trifle to y ou, to ravi.^h n v\Yirvn ^a_r,\t\:zjija. ? Ch.e. I took her for iny Jellow servant. Pyth. Fellow servant ? I can hardly restrain myself from flying at his hair. A miscreant ! Even of his omti free will he comes to make fun of us. Thais, {to Pythias.) Won't you begone from here, ^u mad woman ? Pyth. Why so ? Peally, I do believe I should be some- thing in this hang-dog's debt, if I were to do so ; especially as he o^\^ls that he is your servant. Thais. We'll pass that by. Chaprea, you have behaved unworthily of yourself ; for if I am deserving in the highest (degree of this affront, still it is unbecoming of you to be ^ilty of it. And, upon my faith, I do not know what method now to adopt about this girl : you have so confounded all my plans, that I cannot possibly return her to her friend- tn such a manner as is befitting and as I had intended ; hi ( order that, by this means, I might, Chaerea, do a real service to myself CuJE. But now, from henceforth, I hope, Thais, that there will be la.sting good will between us. jMany a time, from some affair of this kind and from a bad beginning, great friendships have sprung up. What if some DiWnity has willed this ? Thais. I'faith, for my own pai-t I both take it in that view and wish io do so. So. 11. THE KL-NUCII. 119 Cic.c Yt's, prithee, do so. li« stire of thi.s on>> tliiii-^, that I dill not do it for the sake of afVn)Uting you, hut in constMpu'iuv of |»a.ssiou. Thais. 1 uiidirstand, Jind, i'faith, for that rojuson do I now the more ivadily forgive you. I am not, Chierea, of a di.s- positiou so ungentle, or so inexperienced, as not to know what is the jioii:ci:-***-4TTrTr Ch.k. So may tlie l)eiti«\s kindly bless me, Thais; lam now smitten with you as woU. PxTll. Then, i'faith, mistress, I foresee you must liave a care of him. Ch.e. I would not dare PxTH. 1 won't trust you at all in anything. Thais, (/o Pythlvs.) Do have done. Ch.e. Now I entreat you that you will be my assistant on this alfair. I entiii-st and commit myself to your care ; i/I take you, Thais, as my protectress ; I implore you ; I s liall die if I don't h ftTghf'y f6r my Vife. — Thais. I'ut, it your lilTTier sJioiiid sai/ anything Ch.e. Oh, he'll consent, I'm quite sure of that, if she is only a citizen. TTTXTs. Ifyou will wait a little, the brother himself of the young woman will be here presently ; he has gone to fetch the nurse, who brought her up when a little child ; you yourself shall be present, Cha-rea, at his recognition of her. Ch-€. I certainly will stay. Th.\is. In the meantime, until he comes, would you prefer that we should wait for him iu the house, rather than heiv before the door ? Chj: Why yes, I should like it much. Pyth. {to Thais.) Prithee, what ai-e you going to vlor 1 Thais, ^^^ly, what's the matter?^ Pyth. Do you a,sk ? Do you think of admitting him after this into your house ? Thais. Why not ? Py'TH. Trust my word for it, he'll be creating some new disturbance. Thais. O dear, prithee, do hold your tongue. Pyth. Yoa seem to me to be far from sensible o' hi* Msui-auca 120 EUNUCHus; Act Y. Ckm. ril not do anything, Pythias. Pyth. Upon my faith, I don't believe you, Chserea^ except in rase you are not trusted. Ch^. Nay but, Pythias, do you be my keeper. Pyth. Upon my faith, I would neither venture to give anything to you to keep, nor to keep you mtjseJf: away with you! Thais. Most opportunely the brother himself is coming Ch^. Pfaith, I'm undone. Prithee, let's be gone in-doors, Thais. I don't want him to see me in the sti'eet with this dress on. Thais. For what reason, pray ? Because you are ashamed ? ChjE. Just so. Pyth. Just so ? But the young woman Thais. Go first ; I'll follow. You stay here, Pythias, \that you may show Chremes in. (Thais and Cn^EiiEA go into the house.) Scene III. Enter Chremes and Sophrona. Pyth. {to herself.) Well ! what now can suggest itself to my mind ? What, I wonder, in order that I may repay the favour to that villain who palmed this fellow otf upon us ? Chrem. Really, do bestir yourself more quickly, nurse. Soph. I am bestirring. Chrem. So I see ; but you don't stir forwards. Pyth. {to Chremes.) Have you yet slio\vn the tokens to the nurse? Chrem. All of them. Pyth. Prithee, what does she say ? Does she recognize them ? Chrem. Yes, with a full recollection of them. Pyth. Upon my faith, you do bring good news ; for I reallif I wish well to this young woman. Go in-doors: my mistress I has been for some time expecting you at home. (Chremes I and SoPHRONA (JO into TiiAis's house.) But look, yonder I ' espy that worthy fellow, Pai-meno, coming : just see, for heaven's sake, how leisurely he moves along. I hope I have it in my power to torment him after my own fashion. I'U go Be. V. TiiF, ErsTcn. 121 in-(liiors, tlijvt I may know t\>r coit;»iii iilxmt tlio (llsfovcry ; at'terwarils I'll coino out, luid give this villain a terrible I'riyht. {Goes info the Itousc.) Scene IV. Untcr rAiiMEXO. Par. (fo Jiimself.) I've just come back to sec what Chrprca has been doing horc. If ho has managed the allair with dexterity, ye Gods, by our trust in you, how great and cenii ine apj>!aus e.3yill Purmeno obtain ! For not to mention IlKtfli passion, lull of ditVu-ult y and expense, with whieh he was /smitten for a virgin beK^nging to an extortionate courtesan, ^Vc fountl means of satisfying for him, witlxnrt mo^ostntion, ■\vTnT(iTTtoilttav^(;j(.Jj\yijjHnit eost; then, tliis other point — that i>* rciilly irtmiig that I consider my cro"v\ning merit, to have founil out the way by whieh a young man may be enabled to learn the dispositions and manners of courtesans, so that by Vnow^urr tli.ii y bctimcs, he may det gat- -tirPih "evef^-ttftcr . (Pythi.vs eutcr.t from the liouse unperceived.) For while they I are out of dooi-s, nothing seems more cleanly, nothing more I neat or moi-e elegant; ami when they dine Avith a gallant, they Ipick daintily about } to sec the tilth, the dirtiness, the needi- Iness of these women ; liow sluttish they are when at home, and mow gi-eedy after victuals; in what a tashion they devour the plack bread with yesterday's broth : — to know all this, is sal- vation to a young man. Scene V. Enter Pytkias from the Jiouse. rvTU. (apart, unseen bi/ Parmej^o.) Upon my faith, you villain, I'll take vengeance upon you for these sayings and doings; so that you shan't ^make sport of us with ' Pick daintily alovt) — Vcr. 935. He seems here to reprehend the eame practice against which Ovid warns his fair readers, in his .\rt of Love, B. iii. \. 75. He says, " Do not first take food at home," when about to go to an entertainment. Westerhovius seems to think that " ligurio" means, not to " pick daintily," hut " to be fond of good eatin?:" and refers to the IJaccliides of I'iautiis as pourtraying courtesans of the "iiiruricnt" kind, and finds another specimen ia Bacchis in the llcautontimorumenos. 122 EumiCHUs; Act V. iiiij'uuity. {Aloud, coming farvcard.) O, by our trust iu the Gods, what a disgj'aceful action ! O hapless young man ! O wicked Parmeno, to have brought him here ! Par. What's the matter ? Pyth. I do pity him ; and so that I mightn't see it, ■wretched creature that I am, I hurried away out of doors. What a dreadful example they talk of making him ! Par. O Jupiter! What is tliis tumult ? Am I then imdone ? I'll accost her. What's all this, Pythias ? What are you saying ? An example made of whom ? Pyth. Do you ask the question, you most audacious fellow r You've proved the niin of the young man whom you brought hither for the Eunuch, while you were tiying to put a trick Jipon us. Par. How so, or what has happened ? Tell me. Pyth. I'll tell you : that yoimg woman who was to-day made a pixseii^ to Thais, are you aware that she is a citizen of this pLace, and that her brother is a person of very high Tank? Par. I didn' know that. Pyth. But so she has been discovered to he; he, unfor- tunate youth, has ravished her. When the brother came to know of this being"dorrer'in"a most towering rage, he Par. Did what, pray ? Pyth. First, bound him in a shocking manner. Par. Bound him ? Pyth. And even though Thais entreated him that he would'nt do so Par. What is it you tell me ? Pyth. Now he is thi-eatening that he ivill also do that which is usually done to ravishers ; a thing that I never saw done, nor wish to. Par. With what assurance does he dai'e perpetrate a crime so heinous ? Pyth. How "so heinous?" \ Par. Is it not most heinous ? Who ever saw__any— one I taken up as a ruvisher in a courtesaii*s house ? ' Pyth. I don't know. ' ~- Par. But that you mayn't be igiiomnt of this, Pythias, I tell you, and give you notice that he is my master's son. Pyth. How ! Prithee, is it he ? I Sc. VI. THE Ers-rni. 123 I'aic Dun't lot Thais sutrcr any violence to bo iKme to him. But why ilon't I i^o in inysolf ? Pytii. Take oaro, Parmono, what you are ahout, h'st you both do him no good anil oomo to harm youi-sclf; for it is their uotion, that whatovor has happened, has originated in you. P.\ii. WTiat thon, WTotoh that I am, .>^ lime past, has anytliiiiLj liapjx'ncd to mo that I eonUl have better liked to ha])peii. than the okl jxenthMnan just now. I'uU of liis mistake, eomiuL; into our house. I had the joke all to myself as I knew' what it was he feai'cd. Vwi. {apart.) Why, what's all this ? Pyth. Now I'm come out to meet with Parmeno. Put, prithee, where is he ? {Looking around.) P.vii. {apart.) She's looking for me. Pytii. And there he is. I see ; I'll tjo up to him. Paic What's the matter, simpleton ? What do you mean? What are you laughing about? Still going on ? Pytii. {lawjhintj.) Pm dying ; I'm wretchedly tired with laughiniir at you. Pak. Why so ? Pytii. Do you ask ? Upon my faith, I never did see, nor shall see, a more silly fellow. Oh dear, I cannot well express what amusement you've afl'orded in-doors. And still I for- merly took you to be a cIpvpt and shrfiwd p^'-g*^ Why, was there any neud fur yUTTTnstantly to believe what I told you ? Or were you not content with the crime, which by your advice the young man had been guilty of, without betraying the poor fellow to his father as well ? Why, ' As I knew) — Ver. 1003. She enjoyed it the more, knowing that the old man had nothing to fear, as he had just heard the fiction which she had imparted to Parmeno. Ponatus ob»erve.« tliat the terror of Laches accounts for his sudden consent to the union of Chivrea with Pamphila ; for though he could not settle the matter any other way with credit, he was glad to find that his son had made an unequal match rather than endangered his life. Colman, however, observes with con- Bidemble justice: "I think-Chaerea apologizes still better for this arrangement in the Scene with Thais at the opening of this Act, where he says that he is confident of obtaining his father s consent, provided I'amphila proves to be a citizen ; and. indeed, the match between them \d rather a repawtion of an injury done to her than a dcgradatioB of iiuiixli." 1"6 eunttchus; Act V. what do you suppose his feelings must have heen at the mo- ment when his father saw him clothed in that dress ? Well, do you now understand that you are done for? {Laughing.) Par. Hah ! what is it you say, you hussy ? Have you been telling me lies ? \^'Tiat, laughing still ? Does it appear so delightful to you, you jade, to be making fools of us ? Pyth. {htKgJiinr/.) Very much so. Par. Yes, indeed, if you can do it with impunity. Pyth. Exactly so. Par. By heave»s,'Tri repay you ! Pyth; I believe you ; but, perhaps, that which you are threatening, Parmeno, will need a future day ; you'll be trussed up directly, for rendering a silly young man remark- able for disgraceful conduct and then betraying him to his father; they'll both be makmg an example of you. {Lmighing.) Par. I'm done for! Pyth. This reward has been foimd you in return for that present of yours ;^ Pm off. {Goes into the house.) Par. {to himself.) Wretch that I am ; just like a rat, this day I've come to destruction through betrayal of myself ' Scene YIII. Unter Thraso and Gnatho. -/■/: / Gna. {to Thraso.) Well now? With what hope, or J' what design, are we come hither ? What do you intend o do, Thraso ? Thra. What, I ? To surrender myself to Thais, and do what she bids me. / Gna. What is it you say ? / TuRA. ^Yhy — afiy— tbe-4ess — «*»7— iJifln l^p^-'lllffl g^'TV*'^ - Ofiftphftle.' ' In return for that present of yours) — Ver. 1022. By the present sho means Chserea in the disguise of the Eunuch. - Throuf;h betrayal of myself) — Ver. 1023. Which hetrays itself by its own squeaking. •* Hercules served Omphale) — Ver. 1026. He alludes to the story of Omphalc. Queen of Lydia, and Hercules. Being violently in love with her. the hero laid a.sitle his club and boar's skin, and in the habit of a woman plied the spindle and distaft" with her maids. See a curious Btory of Omphale, Hercules, and l'";iuuus, in the Fasti of Ovid, B. iu J. IX. THE Ei-Nrcn. 127 Gna. Tlie preccdont plcasis iiit>. {JxiJr.) T only wish I may see your head stroked down with ti slipper;' hut her dour makes a noise. Thua. Confusion! ^Vhy, what mischiefs this? I never saw this pei-sou before; wliy, I woniler, is ho rushing out io Buch a hurry ? {They stand aside.) Scene IX. Unfcr Cn.EREA/rom the house of Thais, on the other side of the stage. Ch.€. {to himself, aloud.) O fellow townsmen, is there any ione alive more ft>rtunate tlian me this day? Not any one, upon my faith : for elearly in me have the Gods mani- d all their power, on whom, thus suddenly, so many ilessings are bestowed. Par. {apart) Why is he thus overjoyed ? Cum. {seeinij Pakmexo, and running up to him.) O my dear Panneno, the contriver, the beginner, the perfecter of all my delights, do you know wliat are my transports ? Are 4b«t my^Paniphila has been discovered to be a citizen ? ^' Par. I have heard so. Cu.E. Do you know that she is betrothed to me ? Par. So may the Gods bless me, happily done. GxA. {apart to Thraso.) Do you hear what he says ? Ch.e. And then, besides, I am delighted that my bro- ther's mistress is secured to him; tlie family is united. Thais has comnii tt cjl h-"-^.^' l f fr> <- Jv»>- pntr"nfig" **f-iTrj fnth"r;* ehe has put herself' under our care and protection. 1. 305. As tdltJC wappcarance of ThrasoTereTColman has the following remarks: "Thraso, s;iy3 Donatus, is broii'ght back again in order to be admitted to some share in the good gra(;cs of Thais, tiiat he may not- be made unhappy at the end of the Play ; but surely it is an et-sential part of the poetical justice of Comedy to expose coxcombs to ridicule and to puni:Jh them, though without any shocking severity, for their follies." ' With a slipper — Ver. lOW. He doubl'ess alludes to the treat- Bent of Hercules by Omphale ; and, according to Lucian, there was • story that Omphale used to beat him with her slipper or sandal. On that article of dress, see the Notes to the Triuummus of I'lautus, L25-2 To the patronage of my father) — Ver. 1038. It was the custom »t V 128 EUNUCHUs; A.ct V. Par. Thais, tten, is wholly your brother's. Ch.e. Of course. Par. Then this is another reason for us to rejoice, that the Captain will be beaten out of doors. Ch^. Wherever my brother is, do you take care that he hears this as soon as possible. Par. I'U go look for him at home. {Goes into tJie lioiise of Laches.) Thra. {apart to Gnatho.) Do you at aU doubt, Gnatho, but that I am now ruined everlastingly ? Gna. {to Thraso.) Without doubt, I do think so. ChjE. {to himself.) What am I to make mention of first, or commend in especial ? Him who gave me the advice to do so, or myself, who ventured to undertake it ? Or ought I to extol fortune, who has been my guide, and has so ojiportunely crowded into a single day events so numerous, so important ; or my father's kindness and indulgence ? Oh Jupiter, I entreat you, do preserve these blessings unto us ! Scent: X. Enter VnrnDBiiLfrom the house o/" Laches. Ph.ed. {to liimself.) Ye Gods, by our trust in you, what incredible things has Parmeno just related to me! But where is my brother ? Ch^. {stepping forward.) Here he is. Ph.ed. I'm overjoyed. QvLM. I quite believe you. There is no one, brother, IJinore worthy to be loved than this Thais of yours : so much [is she a benefactress to all our family. Ph^d. Whew l are you commending her too to me ? Thra. {apart.) I'm undone ; the less the hope I have, Athens for strangers, such as Thais was, to put themselves under the protection (in clientelam) of some wealthy citizen, who, as their patron, •was bound to protect them against injury. An exactly parallel case to the present is found in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, 1. 799, where the wealthy Periplocomcuus says. " Habeo, eccillam, meam clientam, meretricem adolescentulam." " Why, look, 1 have one, a depeudaat oi mine, a courtesan, a very young woman." So. X. THE KlNlCir. 129 tlio more I am in love, rritlue, Clnatlio, my hope is ii you. Gn.v. {apart.) Wlitit do you wi.sh me to do? 'rnR-V (^rvart.) Brincj tliis a1>out, hy I'lit ivatics or witb moiit'V, tluit I may ut loast sliaro Thais's lavuurs iu sojue dcirne. CiXA. {apart.) It's a hard ta.<5k. TiiK.\. {apart.) If you sot your mind on nnythincr. 1 know you urll. If you manacro this, a.-^k mo lor any [>rc.scut you like aa your reward ; you shall have what you ask. Gx.v. {apart.) Is it so? TnKA. (apart.) It shall be so. Gn'A. {apart.) If I mana^je this, I ask that your house, wlu'ther you are present or absont, may be open to mo ; that, without invitation, there may always be a jilace for me. TiiK.v. {apart.) I plodjjje my honour that it shall be so. Gn'a. {apart.) I'll set about it thni. Piled. \Vho is it I hear so close at hand ? {Turning round.) Thraso- TiiRA. {com iufj forward.) Save you hoth Ph.ed. Perhaps you are not aware what has taken place here. Thra. I am quite aware. Piled. Wliy, then, do I see you in this neighbourhood ? TiiRA. Depending on your kindness. Piled. Do you know what sort of dependence you have ? Captain, I give you notice, if ever I catch you in this street again, even if you should say to me, " I was looking for another pei^son, I was on my road this way," you are undone. Oka. Come, come, that's not handsome. Puja). I've said it. GxA. I didn't know you gave yourself such airs. Piled. So it shall be. Gna. First hear a few words from" me ; and when I have said tlie thing, if you approve of it, do it. Piled. Lot's hear, f Gx.v. Do you step a little that way, Thraso. (Trraso I gtands aside.) In the first place, I wish you both implicitly / to believe me in this, that whatever I do in this matter, J /- < do it entirely for my own sake ; but if the same thing is of/ / !i»dvantjige to youi-selves, it would be folly for you not to do iy ^^t^ 130 EUNUCHUs; Act "V. Pn.ED. ^\Tiat is it ? Gna. I'm of opinion that the Captain, your rival, should be received amoug yoii. Ph^ed. {startmg.) Hah! Cum. Be received ? Gna. {to PH.EDRIA.) Only consider. T faith, Phsedria, at the free rate you are living with her, and indeed very freely you are living, you have but little to give ; and it's necessary for Thais to receive a good deal. That all this may be supplied for your amour and not at your own expense, there is not an individual better suited or more fitted for your purpose than the Captain. In the first place, he both has got enough to give, and no one does give more profusely. He 4&_a.J!»el^,adolt;_j,__bloekhead ; night and day he snores away ; and you need not fear that the lady will fall in love with him ; you may easily have him discarded whenever you please. . Ch^. {to Ph.edria.) "What shall we do ? Gna. And this besides, which I deem to be of even gi-eater importance, — not a single person entertains in better style or more bountifully. Ch^. It's a wonder if this sort of man cannot be made vise of in some way or other. • Ph^d. I think so too. [ Gna. You act properly. One tiling I have stiU to beg of you, — that you'll receive me into your fraternity ; I've been rolling that stone* for a considerable time past. Pii^D. We admit you. Cii^. And with all my heart. Gna. Then I, in return for this, Phsedria, and you, Chserea, make him over to you- to be eaten and drimk to the dregs. Cji^. Agreed. Ph^d. He quite deserves it.' ' Bee.n rolling that stone) — Ver. 1084. Donatus thinks that he alludes to the story of Sisyphus, who, in the Infernal Regions, was condemned eternally to roll a stone up a hill, which, on arriving at the summit immediately fell to the bottom. - Makt him over to you) — Yer. 10S6. " Vobis propino." The word "propino" was propeily applied to the act of tasting a cup of wine, and then handing it to anollier ; be means that he has had his taste of the Captain, and is now ready to hand him over to them. ^ He quite desei-vts itj — Ver. 1087. Cooke has the following ap- I I Sc. X. TIIK ErNl'CU. ir>l Gna. {railing to Tiikaso.) Tluiso, wlicncver you i>lease, Btep this Wiiy. Thua. Prithee, how goes it? G\A. How ? Jr/ii/, these people didn't know you ; after I had discoveivd to them your (pialities, and had praised you as your aetions and your virtues deserved, 1 prevailed upon them. TiniA. You have mnnaijed well ; I give you my best thanks. Besides, I never was anywhere but what all were extremely fond of me. Gn.\. [to V II. VAnuA and Cu.T.nKA.) Didn't I tell yuu that he was a master of the Attie ele^anee ? y Pii.KO. lie is no other than you mentioned. {Pninfiufj lip his Fathkr's house.) Walk this way. {To the Audience.) Fare you well, and grant us your applause. propriatc remark : " I cannot think that this Play, excellent as it is in aluiO!;t all other respects, concludes consistently with the manners of gentlemen; there is a meanness in I'hajdria aneli in mind. Afterwards, when he lia.s returned, unknown to his father, he is entertained at the house of Clitipho. The latter is in love with Bacehis, a Courtesan. When Clinia sends for his much-loved Antiphila, Bacehis eomes, as thouijh his mistress, and Antiphila, wearing the g-arb of her servant ; this is done in order that Clitipho may conceal it from his father. He, through the stratagems of Syrus, gets ten minne from the old man for the Courtesan. Antiphila is dis- covered to he the sister of Clitipho. Clinia receives her, and Clitipho, another woman, for his wife. THE PROLOGUK Lest it should be a matter of surprise to any one of you, wiiy the Poet hixs assigned to an old man' a part that belongs to the young, that I wall first explain to you ;* and then, the reason ' Assigned to an old man) — Ver. 1. He refers to the fact that the Prologue waa in general spoken by yoking men, whereas it is here t^pokcn by I.. Ambivius Turpio, the leader of the Company, a man uricken in years. The Prologue was ge»erally not recited by a person who performed a character in the opening Scene. - That I will first explain to you) — Ver. 3. His meaning seems to be, that he will first tell them the reason why he, who is to ta'sc a parr in the opening Scene, speaks the Prologue, which is usually spoken l>y a young man who does not take part in that Scene ; and that he will then proceed to speak in character (eloquor), as Chromes, in the first Scene. His reason for being chosen to speak the Prologue, is that he may be a pleader (orator) for the Poet, a task which would be likely to be better performed by him than by a younger man. I ^6 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; i'jT my coming I will disclose. An entire Play from an entire Greek one,^ the Heautontimorumenos, I am to-day about to represent, which ii-om a twofold plot- has been made but one. I have shown that it is new, and what it is : next I would mention who it was that A\Tote it, and whose in Greek it is, it I did not tliink that the greater part of you are aware. Now, for what reason I have learnt this part, in a few words I will explain. Tlie Poet Latended me to be a Pleader,^ not the Speaker of a Prologue; your decision he asks, and has appointed me the advocate; if this advocate can avail as much by his oral powers as he has excelled in inventing I happily, who composed this speech which I am about to recite. For as to malevolent rumours spreading abroad . that he has mixed together many Greek Plays wliile wTiting [ a tew Latin ones, he does not deny that this is the case, and { that he does not repent of so doing ; and he affirms that he twill do so again. He has the example of good Poets; after \ which example he thinks it is allowable for him to do what ' From an entire Greek one) — Ver. 4. In contradistinction to such Plays as the Andria, as to which it was a subject of complaint that it had been formed out of a mixture (contaminatus) of the Andrian and Perinthian oi llenander. - Which from a twofold plot) — Ver 6. Vollbehr suggests that the meaning of this line is, that though it is but one Play, it has a twofold plot — the intrigues of two young men with two mistresses, and the tollies of two old men. As this Plaj' is supposed to represent the events ot two successive days, the night intervening, it has been suggested that the reading is "duplex — ex argumento — simplici ;" the Play is " twofold, with but one plot," as extending to two successive days. The Play derivesits name from the Greek words, kavrbv, " him- self," and TifKopovntvvg, " tormenting." •* 7'o be a Pleader)— Yer. 11. He is to be the pleader and advocate of the Poet, to influence the Audience in his favour, and against his adversaries ; and not to explain the plot of the Play. Colman has the following observation : " It is impossible not to regret that there are not above ten lines of the Self-Tormentor preserved among the Frag- ments of Menander. We are so deeply interested by what we see of that character in Terence, that one cannot but be curious to enquire in what manner the Greek Poet sustained it through tive Acts. The Ivoman author, though he has adopted the title of the Greek Play, has 60 altered the fable, that Menedemus is soon thrown into the back- ground, and Chremes is brought forward as the principal object; or, to vary the allusion a little, the Menedemus of Terence seems to be a drawing in miniature copied Irom a full length, as large as the life, by ilenauder." TnE SELF-TORMENTOR. 1/7 they liavo done. Tlion. as to n ninlovolciit oKl Poet' sjiviiit* that ho hivs sudilonly applied liiinsi'lf to dnmiatic jmrNuits. nlyini^f ou the genius of liis iVieiids,' and not his own natund al'ilities ; on that your judunient, your oj)inion. will jinvail. Wherefore I do entreat you all. that the suL,'u;estiou3 of our .'uitagonists may not avail nioi*e than those ot our favourers. Po you he favourable; grant the means of jirosjx-riiig to t hose who atlord you the means of being spectators of new riays; those, ///»<•««, without faults: that he may not suppose this said in his behalf wlio lately made the public give way to a slave as he ran along in the street ;' why .should lie take a madman's part ? About his faults he will say more when he brings out some other new ones, unless he puts an end to his cavilling. Attend with favourable feelings ; grant me the opportunity that I may be allowed to act a quiet Play* in ' A mnlcvohnt old Poet) — Vcr. 22. He alludes to his old enemy, Lusous Lavinius, referred to in the preceding Prologue. - Thr fltiiius of his J'rientls) — Ver. 24. He alhides to a report which had been spread, that his friends Ltelius and Scipio had pub- lished (heir own composition.^ under hi.s name. Servilius is also men- tioned by Eugraphiuj as another of his patrons respecting whom similar btories were circulated. •* As he ran along in the street) — Ver. 31. He probably does not intend to censure this practice entirely in Comedy, but to remind the Audience that in some recent Play of Luscus Lavinius, this had been the sole stirring incident introduced. Plautus introduces Mercury running in the gui.se o< Sosia, in the fourth Scene of the Amphitryon, 1 9S7, and exclaiming. "For surely, why. faith, should I, a God, be nay less allowed to threaten the public, if it doesn't get out of my way, than a slave in the Comedies}" This practice cannot, however, be intended to be here censured by Flautus, .is he is guilty of it in three other instances. In the Mcrcator, Acanthio runs to his master Charinus. t'l tell him that his mistres.s Pasicompsa has been seen in the ship by his father Dcmipho; in the Stichns, Pinaciunf, a slave, runs to inform his mistress Philumena that her husband has arrived in port, on his return from Asia; and in the Mostellaria, Tranio, in haste, brings informa- tion of the unexpected arrival of Theuropides. The "currens servus" is also mentioned in the Prologue to the Andria, 1. 36. See the soliloquy of Stasimus, in the Triuummus of Plautus, 1. 1007. * A quiet Play) — \cT. ZQ. " Statariam." See the spurious Prologue to the Bacchides of Plautus, 1. 10, and the Note to the pa.s.sage in Bohn'a TninslatioD. The Comedy of the Romans was either " stataria," '• motoria," or ''mixta." " Stataria" was a Comedy which was calm and peaceable, such as the Cistcllaria of Pl.uitus; "motoria" was one full o' action and disturbance, like his Amphitryon ; while the "Comoedia miita' was a mixture of both, such as the Euuuchiu of Terence. 138 HEAUTOlfTIMOKUMEXOS; Act I. silence; that the servant everlnstingly running about, the angry old man, the gluttonous parasite, the impudent sharper, and the greedy procurer, may not have always to be per- formed by me with the utmost expense of voice, and the greatest exertion. For my sake come to the conclusion that this request is fair, that so some portion of my labour may be abridged. For now-a-days, those who write new Plays do not spare an aged man. If there is any piece requiring ex- ertion, they come running to me ; but if it is a light one, it is taken to another Company. In the present one the style is pure. Do you make proof, what, in each character,' my ability can effect. If I have never greedily set a high price upon my skill, and have come to the conclusion that this is my greatest gain, as far as possible to be subser^■ient to your convenience, establish in me a precedent, that the young may be anxious rather to please you than themselves. ACT THE FIRST. Scene L Enter Chremes, and Menedemus tcith a spade in his hand, xcho falls to digging. Chrem. Although this acquaintanceship between us is of veiy recent date, from the time in fact of your piirchasing an estate here in the neighbourhood, yet either yotir good qualities, or our being neighbours (which I take to be a sort of friendship), induces me to inform you, fi-ankly and familiarly, that you appear to me to labour beyond your years, and beyond what your affairs require. For, in the mime of Gods and men, what would you have ? What can be your aim ? You are, as I conjecture, sixty years of age, or more No man in these pai-ts has a better or a more valuable estate no one more servants ; and yet you discharge their duties just as diligently as if there were none at all. However early in the morning I go out, and however late in the evening I ' What in each character) — Ver 47. " In utramque partem inge- nium quid possit mcuui.*' This liue is entirely ouiiiied in VoUbehr's edition ; but it appears to be merely a typographical error. / ivturn ' ^sl)lIR•tl THE SELF-TORSrTNTOn. 139 irn homo, I see you cither (lii^ju^in;;, or plouj^hinoj, or doini* thini;, in fact, in the fn-lils. You tiiko nsjiitti not an instant, ami are quite rei^anlless of youi-self. 1 uni very sum that this is not tlone for your aniusenient. Hut really I am vexed liow little work is clone here.' If you were to euiplov the time you spend in lahourinc; yourself, in keeping your servants at work, you would protit nmeh more. Men. Have you so much leisure, Chromes, from your own affiiirs, that you can attend to those of others — those whidi don't conojai you ? CiiremJJ am a man.' and nothing ^at concerns a man do ^at c( pSui I deem a matter of indilFerence to "it^ Suppose that I wish ' IIoic little irork is done here)— YcT. 72. Vollbchr thinks that his mcaniii!; is, that he is quite ve.xed to see so little proere.-js made, in spito of his neitrhhoiir's continual vexation and turmoil, and that, as he say.s in the next line, he is of opinion that if he wore to cease workin;^ himself, anil were to overlook his servants, he would pet far more done. It is more generally thought to he aa objectiou which Chremes suggests that Mcudcmus may possibly make. - / am a niawi — Yer. 77. "TTr>fnr>Hii Tn: hn^ Tni niliil a me alicnum .mito." St. Augustine says, that at the dnoss, nor in tlio whv suited to tlio lovtvsick mine! of a \.>uth, but witli vioieuco, ami aflcr tlio usual uu'thixl of latlu'rs. I was daily reproaching him, — " Iviiok you, do you oxjHvt to he aliowetl any loMLji'r to act thus, niyseli', your lather, heinix alive ; to he keepiuLj a mistress jm-ttv much as thouLrh your wife? You are mistaki'U, Uliuia, and y((u don't know me, if you fancy tliat. I am willini,' tliat you should he called my ,w/;. just as loni^ as you do what heconies you ; hut if you do not do so. 1 shall find out how it hecoines n>e to act towards you. This arises from nothin;;, in fact, hut too much idleness. At your time of life, I did not devote my time to dalliance, but. in consequence of my poverty, lU'inirted hence for~A«*ia. and there actpiircd in arms hotli riches and military sxlory." At lenixth th.e matter came to this. — the youth, from hearincj the same thintjs so often, and with such severity, was overcome. He supposed that I, through asxo and atlection. had more judgment and foresight for him than himself. He went off to Asia, Chi'cmes, to serve under the king. CnRE.M. What is it you say ? Mkn'. He departed without my knowledge — and has been gone these three mouths. CuREM. Both are to be blamed — although I still think tliis step shows an ingenuous and enterprising disposition. !Mkx. When I learnt this from those who were in the secret. I returned home sad, and with feelings almost overwhelmed and distracted through grief. I sit down ; my servants run to me ; they take off my shoes :' then some make all haste to spi-ead the couches,- and to prepare a ivpast ; each according to his ability did zealously ic/iat hr coiiIJ, in order to alleviatQ_jnX- g! Trow . When I observed this, I began to reflect thus : — •' \V»ha"l ! are so many persons anxious for my Siike alone, to pleasure myself only:" Arc ' Tal-fi off my shoes) — Yer. 124. As to the "socci," or low shoes of the ancients see the Notes to the Trinnmmus of I'lautus, 1. 720, in Iktbn's Translation. It was the especial duty of certain slaves to tal;o off the shoes of their masters. * To spread the couche'^) — Ver. 12.5. The " Iceti " or "couches" ijton which the ancients reclined at meals, have been enlarged upoa in iM Notes to Plautus, where full reference is also made to the " coena," or 'dinner," and other meals of the Honiaus. m 142 HEAUTOXTIMORUMENOS ; Act T. 80 many female servants to provide me with dress ? ^ Shall I alone keep up such an expensive establishment, whUe my only son, who ought equally, or even more so, to enjoy these things— inasmuch as his age is better suited for the enjoyment of them — him, poor i/outh, have I diiven away from home by my severity ! Were I to do this, really I should deem myself deserving of any calamity. But so long as he leads this life of penury, banished fi'om his country through my severity, I will revenge his wrongs upon myself, toiling, making money, saving, and laying up for him." At once I set about it ; I left nothing in the house, neither moveables''' nor clothing ; everj'thing I scraped together. Slaves, male and female, except those who could easily pay for their keep by working in the country, all of them I set up to auction and sold. I at once put up a bill to sell my house.' I collected somewhere about fifteen talents, and purchased this farna-;— here I fatigue myself 7l have come to this conclusion, .Chr emeg ^tbat I do my son a less injury, while I am unhappy -and {hat it is not right for me to enjoy any pleasure hex^until such time as he returns home saie to share it with maj Chreji. I beKve you to be of an affectionate disposition Provide me with dress) — Yer. 130. It was the custom for the mistress and female servants in each lamily to make the clothes of the master. Thus in the Fasti ol Ovid, B. ii., 1. 746, Lucretia is found amid her female servants, making a cloak, or " lacerna," for her hus- band. Suetonius says that Augustus refused to wear any garments not woven by his female relations. Cooke seems to think that " vestiant " alludes to the very act of putting the clothes upon a person. He say."?, " The better sort of people had eating dresses, which are here alluded to. These dresses were light garments, to put on as soon as they had bathed. They commonly bathed before eating, and the chief meal was in the evening." This, however, does not seem to be the meaning ol the passage, although Colman has adopted it. We may here remark that the censure here described is not unlike that mentioned in the Prologue to the Mercator of Plautus, as administered by Demaenetus to his son Charinus. 2 Neither nwveables) —Yer. 141. " Vas" is here used as a general name for articles of furniture. This line appears to be copied almost literally from one of Menander, which still exists. ^ To sell my house) — Ver. 145. On the mode of advertising houses to let or be sold among the Komans, see the Trinummus of Plautus, L ICS, and the 2\ote to the poiiuge in Bohn's Trauslaiiou. S.I. THE SEI.F-TORMrVTOR. Ill towards your childivn,' and liiin to bo an obedient snn, if ono \viTv to manaijo hini riulitly or prndtutly. But ncitluT did you uniK'i-staml him svitlioiontly well, nor he you — a thin^* that happens where pel-sons di)n"t live on terms of fRinkncsa toi^ether. You never showed liim liow hijjhly you vahicd him, nor did he evrr dare put that contidenee in you which is due to a father. Had this been doue, these troubles wouM never have befallen you. 'Mv.y. Such is the fact, I confess ; the greatest fault is on my side. CnKK.M. But still, Mencdemus, I hope for the best, and I trust that he'll be here safe before lonfj. Men. Oh that the Gods would grant it! Chrem. They will do .^o. Now, if it is convenient to you — the festival of Bacchus' is being kept here to-day — I wish you to give me your company. ' Toirarda your children) —"Ver. 151. The plural "liberos" is here used tc sitmify the one son which Mcneilcmu* has. So in the Hccyra, 1. 217, the same word is used to signify but one daugliter. This was a common mode of expression in thf times of the earlier Latin authors. * I etitival of Bacchus, " Dion>/sia") — \cT. \62. It is generally sup- posed that there were four Festivals called the Dionysia, during the year, at Athens. The first was the Kural, or Lesser Dionysia, kut' aypovi, a vintage festival, which was celebrated in the " Demi " or boroughs of Attica, in honor of Bacchus, in the month Poseidon. This was the most ancient of the Festivals, and was held with the greatest merriment and freedom ; the slaves then enjoyed the same amount of liberty as they did at the S.aturnalia at Home. The second Festival, which was called the Lenaja, from Xtji'vc, a wine-press, was celebrated in the month Gamelion, with Scenic contests in Tragedy and Comedy. The third Dionysian Festival was the Anthesteria, or " Spring feast," being celebrated during three days in the month Anthesterion. The first day was called :Ti«oiy(o, or " the Opening of the casks, ' as on that d.iy the casks were opened to taste the wine of the preceding year. Tiic second day was called \ofr, from \ovi:, "a"Cup,"and was probably devotort to drinking. The third day was called xvrpni, from \iirpo<,-, "a pot,' as on it pereons offered pots with flower-seeds or cooked vegetables to Dionysus or Bacchus. The fourth Attic festival of Diony.sius was celebrated in the month Elaphebolion, and was called the Dionysia iy uTTu, Attiku. or Mf^aXd. the "City" or "great" festival. It wjis celebrated with great magnificence, processions and dramatic represen- tations forming part of the ceremonial. From Greece, by way of Sicily, the Bacchanalia, or festivals of Bacchus, were introduced into B^nx*, where they became the scenes of am^ uretcxt for every kind of vice aiiU 144 HEAUTONTIJIORUMENOSj Act I. INIex. I cannot. Chrem. "Why not ? Do. pray, spare yoursell a little while. Your absent son would wish you do so. MEx.^Tt is not right that I, who have driven him lience to endure hardships, should now shun them mysebl CHRE.Ar. Is such jour determination ? \ Me>\ It is. - — ' Chrem. T/ie7i kindly fare you well. Men. And you the same. {Goes into Ids Jiouse.) SCEXE II. Chremes, alone. CiiREM. {to Mmself) He has forced teag _from me, and I do pity him. But as the day is far gone, I must remind Phania, this neighbour o/'m?;/^, to come to dinner. I'll go see whether he is at home. {Goes to Phajnia's door, makes the enquirji, and returns.) There was no occasion for me to remind him : they tell me he has been some time already at my house ; it's I myself am making my guests wait. I'll go iu-doors immediately. But what means the noise at the door of my house ? I wonder who's coming out ! I'U step aside here. {He stands aside.) Scene III. Enter Clitipho, /row? the house o/'Chrexies. Cut. {at the door, to Cltnta within.) There is nothing, Clinia, for you to fear as yet : they have not been long by any means : and I am sure that she will be with you pre- sently along with the messenger. Do at once dismiss these causeless appi-ehensions which are tormenting you. debauchery, iinfil at lencrth they were put down in the year B.C. 1S7, with a stronu' liand, by the Con>uls Spurius Postluiinius Alliiuus and Q. Maroius Thilippus; from which period the words " biicchor" and "bacchator" hccniue synonymous with the practice of every l^ind of vice and turpitude that could outrage comnm decency. See a very full account of the IVionysia and the Bacchanalia in Dr. Smitb'i Dictionary of Greek and Koiuan Antiiiuities. Ko. III. THE SKLF TOItMKMOR. H .') C'llKE31. (apart.) Who is my si>n talUing to? (Makrb lii< apjifti ranee.) CiAT. {fo himself.) Here comes my father, wlioin I wislictl to tee : I'll Hcfost liim. Father, you have met me opportunely. CuKKM. What is the matter? Clit. Do you know this neighbour of ours, Menedemus? CltKCM. Very well. Clit. Do you know that he has a son ? Chkkm. I have heard that ho has ; in Asia. (IliXl.,^^^^' ^"^ "*^*' '" -^*■''^ father; he is at ou r house. C'HKKM.^WTrat is it yTrrrsny? Clit. Upon his arrival, after he Imd jii.ff landed from the ship, I immediately brought him to dine with us ; for from •'ur very ehildhood upwai'ds I have always been on intimattr terms with him. CuREM. You announce to me a great pleasure. How much I wish that ^Menedemus had aeeepteil my invitation to make one of us : that at my house I might have been the first to surprise him, when not expecting it, with this delight ! — and even yet theix>'s time enotigh Cut. Take care what you do ; there is no necessity, fathei",yt»r doing so. Chrem. For what reason ? Clit. Why, because he is as yet undetermined what to rdo with him.self. He is but just an'ived. He fears every thing; his father's displeasupe,,jind how his mistress may lie disposed towards him. He Invps hPr t^ dig Enxctio n : on ' her account, this trouble and going abroad took place. Chrem. I know it. Clit. He has just sent a servant into the city to her, and I ordered our Syrus to qo witlrtiim. ClinEM. What does C'lii('ia^ :\y ? Clit. Wliat does he snif ? That he is wretched. Chrem. Wretched? Wliom could we less suppose so? What is there wjmting for him to enjoy every thing that among men, in fact, are esteemed as blessings ? Parents, a country in prosperity, friends, family, relation.s, riches ? And yet, all these are just according to the disposition of him who possesses them. To him who knows how to use tliem, they are ble.ssings ; to him who does not use them rightly, ihc^ j are evik. f h ] 146 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; Act IT- Cut. Aye. but he always was a inoroi?e old man ; and now I di'ead nothing more, father, than that in his displeasure he'll be doing something to him more than is justifiable. Chrem. What, he ? (Aside.) But PU restrain myself ; for that the other one should be in feai' of his father is of ser- vice to him.^ Clit. "What is it you are saying to yourself? Chrem. I'll tell you. However the ca.se stood, Clinia ought still to have remamed at home. Perhaps his father was a little stricter than he liked : he should have put up with it. For ■ whom ought he to bear with, if he would not bear with his own father ? Was it reasonable that he should live after hia sotis humour, or his son after his ? And as to charging him "with harshness, it is not the fact. For the severities of fathers are generally of one character, those / meaji who are in some degi'ee reasonable men.' They do not wdsh their sons to be ,'ilways wenching ; they do not wish them to be always carousing ; they give a limited allowance ; and yet all this tends to vii-tuoiis conduct. But when the mind, Clitipho, has once enslaved itself by vicimis—appetites, it must ot necessity follow similar pursuits. This is a wise maxim, " to take warning fi'om others of what may be to your own advantage." Clit. I believe so. Chrem. FU now go hence in-doors, to see what we hr.ve for dinner. Do you, seeing what is the time of day, mind and take care not to be anywhere out of the way. {Goes into his house, and exit Clitipho.) ACT THE SECOND. Scene 1. Enter Clitipho. Clit. {to himsrlf.) Wliat partial judecs are all fathers in regard to all of us young men, in thinking it reasonable for ' le of service to him) — Ver. 199. He means th.at it is to the advantage of Clitipho that Clinia should be seen to stand in awe of his father. - J^'rasoTiabte me7i)—Yer. 205. " Homo," "a man," is here put for men iu geueial who are luthcrii. So. TI. THE SELr-TOnMT:NTOIL 1 17 US !.■> Tiooonie old nun all at onoe from l)oys, nml not t> participate in those thini;^ whioh youth is ny their own (Ksires,- such as they now are,— not as they once weiv. It" ever I have a son, he certainly shall tind in mo an indulgent father. For the ms both of knowini; and of pardoninuj' his faults shall be md f>i/ me; not like mine, who by means of another i)er.son, ' >closes to me his own sentiments. I'm plagued to death. — when he drinks a little more than usual, what pranks ot his own he dot.>« irlate to me ! Now he says, " Take warn- ing from others of what may be to your advantage." How shrewd ! He certainly does not know liow deaf I am at the moment when he's telling his stories. Just now, the words of my mistress make luore impression upon me. " Give me this, and bring me that^sJi^e cries ; I have nothing to say to her in answer, and no one is there more wretched than myself But this Clinia, although he, as well, has cares enough of his ovn\, still has a mistress of virtuous and modest breeding, and a stranger to the arts of a courtesan. Mine is a ci-aving, saucy, haughty, extravagant creature, full of lofty airs. Then all that I have to give her is — fair words' — for I make it a point not to tell her that I have nothing. This misfortune I met with not long since, nor does my father as yet know anything of the matter. {Exit. Scene II. Enter Clinia /rom the house of Chresies. Clin, {to himself.) If my love-aSJiirs had been prosperous for me, I am sure she would haAtJ- been here by this ; but I'm afriiid that the damsel has been led astray here in my absence. Many things combine to sti-engthen this opinion in my mind; opportunity,^ the phice, her age, a worthless ' Of hnowing and of pardoning) — Vor. 218. Tliere is a jingle intended here in the resemblance of the words " cognoscendi," " know- ing," and " ignoscendi," " pardoning." - Is -fair wordi) — Ver. 2'28. " Recte est." It is supposed that he pauses before uttering thot-e words, which mean " very well," or - ven.- good," implying the giving an a.sscnt without making a promi.^e ; lie tells the reason, in s.nying that he has scniples or prejudices agaiast cjofed&ing that he has got nothing to give her. l2 148 HEAUTOXTIMORUMENOS; Act II. , mother, under whose contx-ol she is, with whom, nothing but gain is precious. Enter Clitipho. Cut. Clinia! Clin. Alas ! AVTetched me ! Clit. Do, pray, take care that no one coming out of your father's house sees you here by accident. Clin. I will do so; but really my mind presages I know not what misfoi-tune. Clit. Do you persist in making up youi' mind upon that, before you know what is the fact ? Clin. Had no misfortune happened, she would have been here by this. Clit. She'll be here presently. Clin. "When will that presently be ? I Clit. You don't consider that it is a great way from here.* Besides, you know the ways of women, while they ai-e bestirring themselves, and while they are making prepa- rations a wliole year passes by. Clin. O Clitipho, I'm afraid Clit. Take courage. Look, here comes Dromo, together with Syrus: they are close at hand. {They stand aside.) Scene III. Enter Syrus and Dromo, coiiversing at a distance. Syr. Do you say so ? Dro. 'Tis as I told you, — but in the meantime, while we've been carrying on oiu- discom'se, these women have been left behind. Clit. (apart.) Don't you hear, Clinia ? Your mistress is close at hand. Clin, (opart.) ^^Hiy yes, I do hear now at last, and I see and revive, Cliti})ho. Dro. No wonder ; they are so encumbered ; they arc bringing a troop of female attendants * with them. ' Great %cay from here) — Vcr. 239. That is, from the place where ihej are, in the country, to Atlicns. ' Troop of female attendant^}— "Vcr. 245. The train and expenses of a courte&in of high station are admirably depicted in the speech of Lysiteles, in the Triuummus olTlautus. 1. 252. S(-. Tir. THE SELF-TORMEXTOR. 1 19 CiAS. (apart.) I'm uudone ! WIk-iuo codio tlieso fomiilo attt'iulants ? Clit. {apart. ) Do you ask me ? Syi^ Wo ouglit not to luivo left tliom ; ^vllat a (luantity of things thoy are bringing! Clin, (apart.) Ali me ! Syii. Jewels of gold, and clothes ; it's growing late too, and they don't know the way. It was veiy foolLsh of ns to It-arc them. Just go back, Dromo, and meet them. Make luuste— why do you delay ? (Eu-it Dro.mo. Clix. (apart.) Woe unto wretched me ! — from what high hojx's am I fallen ! Clit. (apart.) What's the matter ? Why, what is it that troubles you ? Cnx. (apart.) Do you ask Avhat it is ? Why, don't you see ? Attenilani-s. jewels of gold, and clothes, her fou, whom T left here with oiili/ one little servant girl. Whence do you sup{K)se that they come ? Clit. (apart.) Oh ! now at last I understand yoii. Syr. (to himsi'lf.) Good Gods ! what a multitude there* is ! Our house will hardly hold them, I'm sure. How much they will eat ! how much they will drink ! what will there lie more wTetched than our old gentleman ? (Cut chin r/ sight o/Clinia and Clitipho.) But look, I espy the persons I wa.s wanting. Clin, (apart.) Oh Jupiter ! Why, where is fidelity gone ? While I, distractedly wandering, have abandoned my country for your sake, you, in the meantime, Antiphila, have been enridiing yourself, and have forsaken me in these troubles, you for whose sake I am in extrenie disgi-ace, and have been disobedient to my father ; on "odiose account I am now ashamed and grieved, that he who used to lecture me about the manners of these women, advised me in vain, and was nitt able to wean me a^vay from her : — which, however, I shall now do; xrhereas ysXxew it might have been advantageou3 to me to do so, I was unwilling. There is no being more I wretched than I. Syr. (to himself.) He certainly has been misled by our words which we have been speaking here. (Aloud.) Clinia, you imagine your mistress quite different from what she really is. For both her mode of life is the same, and her disviosition 150 HEAUTONTlMORUMEirOS; Act Ti F, /towards you is the same as it always was ; so far as we could foTm a judgment from the circumstances themselves. Clix. How so, prithee ? For nothing in the world could I rather wish for just now, than that I hare suspected this ^\^thout reason. Syr. This, in the first place, tlien (that you may not be ignorant of anything that concerns her) ; the old woman, who was formerly said to he her mother, was not so. — She is dead : this I overheard by accident from her, as we came along, while she was telling the other one. Clit. Pray, who is the other one ? Syr. Stay; what I have begim. I wish fii-st to relate, Clitipho ; I shall come to that afterwards. Cut. MtJie haste, tlien. ^ Syr. Fii^st of all. then, when we came to the house, Dromo knocked at the door ; a certain old woman came out ; when she opened the door, he directly rushed in ; I followed ; the old woman bolted the door, and retimied to her wool. j On this occasion might be kno-«Ti, Clinia, or else on none, /l in what pursuits she passed her life diu'ing your absence ; // when we thus came upon a female unexpectedly. For this V circumstance then gave us an opportunity of judging of the coui-se of her daily life ; a tliinrj which especially discovei-s what is the disposition of each indi^ddual. ^Ye found her industriously plying at the web ; plainly clad in a mourning dress,' on account of this old woman, I suppose, who was \ lately dead ; without golden ornaments, ch'essed, besides, just \ like those who only dress for themselves, and patched up with no worthless woman's trumpery.' Her hair was loose, long, ' In a viouminf/ dress') — Ver. 2S6. Among the Greeks, in general, mourning for the dead seems to have histcd till the thirtieth day after the funeral, and during that period black dresses were worn. The Komansalso wore mourning for the dead, which seems, in the time of the Kepublic, to have been black or dark blue for either sex. Under the Empire the men continiied to wear black, but the women wore white. Kojewels or oruamenis were worn upon these occasions. - With no u-ortldeiis woman's trumpery) — Ver. 2S9. By "null4 mala re muliebri" he clearly means that they did not find her painted up with the cosmetics which some women were in the habit of using. Such prei>arations for the face as white-lead, wax, antimony, or ver- milion, well deserve the nanicof " ni:ila res." A host of these cosmetics will be found described in Ovid's Fragment " On the Care of the Com- Si- TTI. THE SELP-TORMKNTOn. 1 .") 1 and tlirowu back noijligontly al)i>ui Ikt temples. (2b Cuxi.v.) Do hold your j>ouce.' Clin. My dear Synis, do not without cause throw uh; into ecstasies, I beseeeh you. 8vK. The old woman was spinning the woof:' there was one little servant girl besitles ; - she was weaving' together with them, coveix'd with patched clothes, slovenly, and dirty with tiltiiiness. Clit. If this is true, Clinia, as I believe it is, who is there more fortunate tlian you r Do you m.U'k this c/irl whom lie speaks of, as dirty and dnibbish ? This, too, is a strong indication that the mistivss is out of hai'm's way, when her contidant is in such ill jilight ; for it is a rule with those who wisli to gain access to the misti'css, first to bribe the maid. j CiJX. {to Syrus.) Go on, I beseech you ; and beware ot /endeavouring to purchase favour by telling an untruth. iWliat did she say, when you mentioned me? SvR. When we told her that you had returned, and had rev|uested her to come to you, the damsel instantly put away tile web, and covered her face all over with tears ; so that Diexion," and much in'ormation upon this subject is given in various pas" tvigos in the Art of Love. In the Remedy of J^ove, 1. 351, Ovid speaks of these practices in the following terms: "At tiie moment, too, when she ^hall be smearing ber face with the cosmetics laid up on it, you may come into the presence of your mistress, and don't let shame prevent you. You will tind there boxes, and a thousand colours of olijects; and yi>u will see ' Q?sypum,' the ointment of the fleece, trickling down and flowing upon her heated bosom. These drugs, I'hineus, smell like thy tables; not once alone has sickness been caused by this to my stomach." Lucre- tius also, in his Fourth Book, 1. IIGS, speaks of a female who "covers herself with noxious odours, and whom her female attendants fly from to a distance, and chuckle by stealth;.^ See also the Mostellaria of riautus. Act I., Scene 3, 1. 135, where Philematium is introduced making her toilet on the stage. Do hold your jitace) — Ver. 291. " I'ax." literally "peace !" in the sense of' Hush ! " " Be ouiett" See the Notes to the Trinummus of I'lautus, 11. 8SU-891, in Bohn's Translation. -■ The woof I — Ver. 293. See an Interesting passage on the ancient weaving, in the Metamorphoses of Ovid, B. vi., 1. oi, et seq. See also the Hpistle of Penelope to Ulysses, in the Heroides of Ovid, \. 10, and the Note in Bohn's Lriglish Traiislation. •' She icoji tceaviiigj — Ver. '2iH. This line and part of the next are supposed to have been translated almost literally from some lines, the composilioa of Mcuauder, which are siill extuui. 152 HEAUTOXTIMORUMENOS; Act TI. you miglit easily perceive that it really was caused by her atfection for you. Clin. So may the Deities bless me, I know not where I aiu for joy! I was so alarmed before. Clit. But I was sure that there was no reason, Clinia. Come now, Syi-us, tell me, in my turn, who this other lady is. Syr. Your Bacchis, tvhom we are bringing.' Cut. Ha! What! Bacchis? How now, you rascal! whither are you bringing her? Syr. Whither am I bringing her ? To our house, to be sure. Clit. What ! to my father's ? Syr. To the very same. Clit. Oh, the audacious impudence of the fellow! Syr. Hark'ye, no gi-eat and memorable action is done without some risk. Clit. Look now ; are you seeking to gain credit for your- self, at the hazard of ray character, j ou rascal, in a point, where, if you only make the slightest slip, I am mined ? What would you be doing with her? Syr. But still Clit. Why "still?" Syr. If you'll give me leave, I'll tell you. Clin. Do give him leave. Clit. I give him leave then. Syr. This affair is now just as though when Clit. Plagiie on it, what roundabout story is he beginning to tell me ? Clin. Syms, he says what's right — do omit digressions; come to the ])oint. Syr. Eeally I cannot hold my tongue. Clitipho, you are every way iniju.st, and cannot possibly be endui-ed. Clin. Upon my ftvith, he ought to have a hearing. {To Clitipho.) Do be silent. Syr. You wish to indulge in your amours ; you wish to possess your mistress; you wish that to be procured where- 1 Yonr Bacchis, whom tve are hrinriing) — Ver. 310. Colnian has tlic following remark : " Here we enter upon tlic other part of the table, whieh the Poet has most artfully couiplicatcd with the main tulijcct hy making Syrus bring Clitipho's mistress along with Aati- phila. This part of the story, wc know, was uot in ilcuauder." S.- III. THE SELF-TDRMKNTMl. LIT witlial to make her jnvsonts; in ijcttinrj thin, you do not wish the risk to lie your own. You arc not wise to no pur- noso, — if imlootl it is boinsj wise to wisli for tliut which can- not hapi»cn. Either the one must bo had with tlio other, or t he one must bo let alone with the other. Now, of these two alternatives, consider which one you would prefer ; althou<;h this project which I have formed, I know to be both a wise and a s;ife one. For there is an c)ii])ortunity for your mi:i- tress to be with you at your father's house, without fear of a (/iscoffri/ ; be>ides, by these self-s;\me means, I shall find the money which you have promised her — to effect which, you have already made my eai-s deaf with entreating me. What woulil you have more ? Clit. If, indeoil, this could be bi'ouijht about 8vK. If, indeed ? You shall know // by experience. Ci.iT. Well, well, disclose this project of yom-s. What is it r SvR. We will pretend that your mistress is his {pointing t^ Cunia). Clit. Very fine ! Tell me, what is he to do with his own ? Is she, too, to be called his, as if one was not a sufficient discredit ? Svn. No — she shall be taken to your mother. Cut. Why there? SvR. It would be tedious, Clitipho, if I were to tell you ^\ hy I do so ; I have a good reason. Cut. Stuff! I see no grounds sufficiently solid why it sliould be for my advantage to incui" tliis risk.' {Turning II. s- if going.) Syr. Stay ; if there is this risk, I have another project, which yt>u must both confess to h**^ free from danger. Clit. Find out sometliing of that description, I beseech you. SvR. By all means ; I'll- go meet her, and teU her to return liome. (,'lit. Ha ! what wa.s it you said ? Syr. ril rid you at once of all fears, so that you may sleep at your ease upon either ear.' Jwur this ri-ok) — Ver. 337. As to his own mistress. * i'/ion eillcr ear) — Vcr. 342. "Inaiirein utraiiivis," a proverbial txpre&sioii, iiuplying aa easy aud secure repo:ic. It is also used by 15-i HEALTOXTIMORUMENOS; Act II, Ci.iT. Wliat am I to do now? Cliit. What are yoii to do ? The goods that Clit. Only tell me the truth, S}tus. Syr. Dispatch quickly; you'll be wishing just now too late and in vain. {Goin(f.) ,Clin. The Gods provide, enjoy while yet you may ; for you know not Clit. {caUing.) Syrus, I say ! Syr. {moving on.) Go on ; I shall still do that loliich 1 said} Clin. "Whether you may have another opportunity here- after or ever again. Clit. 1 'faith, that's true. {Calling.) Syinis, Syi-us, I say, harkye, harkye, Syrus! Syr. {aside.) He warms a little. {To Clitipho.) "What is it you want ? Clit. Come back, come back. Syr. {coming bacJi to him.) Here I am ; tell me what you would have. You'll be presently saying that this, too, doesn't please you. Clit. Nay, ^rus, I commit myself, and my love, and mif reputation entu'clg to you : you are the seducer ; take care you don't deserve any blame. Syr. It is ridiculous for you to give me that caution, (Clitipho, as if my interest was less at stake in this affiiir than yoursT Here, if any ill luck should pcu-chance befall us, words will be in readiness for you, lut for this individual blows {pointing to himself). For that reason, this matter is by no means to be neglected on my part : but do prevail upon him {pointing to Clinia) to protend that she is his owni mistress. Clin. You may rest assured I'll do so. The matter has now come to that pass, that it is a case of necessity. Clit. 'Tis with good reason that I love you, Clinia. Plautus, and is fouiul in a fragment of the XIXokwv, or Necklace, a Comedy of JEcnander. ' Still do that which I .taid) — Ver. 346. " Perge porro, tamcn istuc ago." Stallbaum observes that the meaning is: "Although I'm going' otf, I'm still attending to wliat you're saying." According to Schmiede and others, it means: "Call on just as you please, I shall persist "u seudiug Ijucchis awaj*," Si-. If[. THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 155 Cl!N. But she mustn't be tripjtiniT at all. Syr. She is thorouijhiy tiitorod in her imrt. Cut. But this I womler at, how you could so ea.sily pre- vail iipou her, who is wont to trout snA\ t/reat peo^Ic^ with scorn. Syr. I came to her at the proper moment, which in all thincp is of the lir.st iiii|>ortance : for thei-e I found a certain wivtched captain soliciting her favours: she artfully managed the man, so as to inflame his eager jia.ssions by denial ; and this, too, that it might be especially jdeasing to youi"self. . But hark you. take care, will you, not to be impruilcntly I inii>etuous. You know your father, how quicksighted he is I in these matters ; and I know you, how unable you ai'o to coui mnnd vo urself Keep clear of words of douVile mean- ing.* your sidelong looks, sighing, hennuing, coughing, tit- tering. Clit. You shall have to commenrl j»e. Syr, Take care of that, please. Clit. You yourself shall be surprised at me. Syr. But how quickly the ladies have come np -with ua! Clit. Whei-e are they ? (Syrus stands before Mm.) Why do you hold me back ? Syr. For the present she is nothing to you. Cut. I know it, before my father ; but now in the mean- time Syr. Not a bit the more. Clit. Do let me. Syr. I will not let you, I tell you. Cut. But only for a moment, pray. > Such great ptople) — Ver. 363. " Quos, " literally, " What persons I" -^ -' Words of douhlp meaning) —Ycr. 372. " Inversa verba, cvci-saa cer\'icea tuas." " Inversa verba" clearly means, words with a double meaning, or substituted for others by j>revious arrangement, like cor- respondence by cyplier. Lucretius uses the words in this sense, B. i., I. 643. .\ full account of the secret .siijns and correspondence in use amou;r the ancients, will be found in the lOlh and 17th Kpistles of the Ileroidcs of Uvid, in his Amours, B. i.. El. 4, and in various passages of the Art of Love. See also the Asinaria ot IMautus, 1. 780. It is not known for certain what " <^•ersa cen-i.x " here means; it may mean the turning of the neck in .som'* yiarticular manner by way of a hint or to pive a sidelong look, or it may allude to the act of snatching a kiss ou the sly, which might lead to a discovery. ir)f5 nEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; Act IL Syr. I forbid it. Clit. Only to salute her. Syr. If you are wise, get you gone. Clit. I'm oflf. But what's he to do ? {Pointing at Clinia.) Syr. He will stay liere. Clit. O happy man ! Syr. Take yourself off (Exit Clitipho. Scene TV. Enter Bacchis and Antiphila at a distance. Bacchis. Upon my word, my dear Antiphila. I commend you, and think you fortunate in having made it your study that your manners should be conformable to those good looks of yours: and so may the Gods bless me, I do not at all wonder if every man is in lo ve with you. For yoiu' discourse has been a proof to me what kind of disposition you possess. And when now I reflect in my mind upon your way of life, and that of all of you, in fact, who keep the public at a distance from yourselves, it is not surprising both that you are of that disposition, and that we are not ; for it is your interest to , be vy:tuous ; those, with whom we are acquainted, will not d !al^w us to he so. For our lovers, allured merely by our f ; beauty, court u?,for that; when that has faded, they transfer I their affections elsewhere ; and unless we have made provi- i sion in the meantime for the futui-e, we live in destitution. I JS'ow with you/w^hen you have once resolved to pass your life with one man whose manners are especially kindred to your o\\ii, those persons^ become attached to you. By this kindly feeling, you are truly devoted to each^^er; and no calamity ean ever possibly interrupt your love^^ A_NTi. I know nothing about other women : I'm sure that I have, indeed, always used every endeavour to derive my own happiness from his happiness. Clin, {apart, overhearing Antipiiila.) Ah! 'tis for that reason, my Antiphila, that you alone have now caused me to return to my native coimtry ; for while I was absent froia A man whose manners— thot:T08. 1">1> ClIREM. Hero, nt my lnmso, at homo. . Mk^'. My sou r I C'nuKM. SiK-li is the fact. / Mfa". Coino /loiiir.'' I Ciiur.M. Certainly. Mkn. My son. Ciinia, come home? Chkkm. I s;iy so. Mkx. Lot us so. Load mo to him, I hep: of yox7. (^'nKE.M. He does iiot wish you yet to know of his retniTi, aiul lie shuns your ]>roseneo; he's afraid that, on accoiuii of that fault, your former severity may even be incroa.sed. Men'. Dill you not tell him how I was aflected ? * CnuEM. Xo Men. For what re.ison, Chromes ? CiiHE.M. Borause there you would judge extremely ill both for yoiu-self and for him, if you were to show yourself of a spirit so weak and irresolute. Mex. I canuot help it: enough already, enough, have I proved a rigox-ous father. ^*"— Chrem. Ah !Menedemus(X^ou are too precipitate in either extreme, either with pt^^^soness or with parsiijj>ony too groatN) Into the same error~wW you fall from 'tlie one side as from the other. In the first place, formerly, rather than allow your son to -s-isit a young woman, who was then I'ontent -w-ith a very little, and to whom anything was accep- table, you frightened him away from here. After that, she began, quite against her inclination, to seek a subsistence upon *,he town. Xow, when she cannot be supported without a great expense, you ai*e ready to g^ive anything. For, that you may know how perfectly she is trained to extravagance, in the tii'st place, she has already- brought with her more than ten female attendants, all laden with clothes and jewels of 'T^old ; if a satrap^ had been her admirer, he ne^^er could sup|>ort her expenses, much less can you. Me\. Is she at your house ? CiiKEM. Is she, do you ask? I have felt it; for I have ' IIow I teas affectfid)—YeT. 436. "Ut essem," literalIyr""Trow-i^ wns." * 1/ a Katrap^ — Ver. 452. "Satrapa" was a Persian word signifying "a ruler of a province." Tlie name was considered as synonjinoui with "possessor of wealth almost iuc.xhauaiible." J no HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS ; Act III. given her and her rethme one dinner ; had I to give them another such, it would be all over ivith me; for, to pass by other matters, what a quantity of wine she did consume for me in tasting only,^ saying thus, " This tcine is too acid,' rqape^ed sii-,' do jjlease look for something more mellow." I openetl all the casks, all the vessels; she kept all on the stir: and this hut a single night. What do you suppose will become of you when they are constantly preying upon you ? So may the Gods prosper me, Menedemus, I do pity your lot. Men. Let him do what he will ; let him take, waste, mid ■Squander ; I'm determined to endure it, so long as I only have him with m«. ' In tasting onhj, — Ver. 457. "rytiso"was the name given to the nasty practice of tasting wine, and then spitting it out; offensive in a man, but infinitely more so in a woman. It seems in those times to have been done by persons who wisiied to give themselves airs in the houses of private persons; at the present day it is probably confined to wine-vaults and sale-rooms where wine is put up to auction, and even there it is practised much more than is either necessary or agreeable. Doubtless Bacchis did it to show her exquisite taste in the matter of wines. 2 Is too acid) — Ver. 458. "Asperum;" meaning that the wine was not old enough for her palate. The great fault of the Greek wines was their tartness, for which reason sea-water was mixed with them ail except the Chian, which was the highest class of wine. ^ Bespected sir) — Ver. 459. " Pater," literally "father;" a title by which the young generally addressed aged persons who were strangers to them. •* All the caslcs, all the vessels) — Ver. 460. "Dolia omnia, omnes serias." The finer kinds of wine were drawn ofT from the "dolia." or large vessels, into the " amphora?," which, like the " dolia," were made of earth, and sometimes of glass. The mouths of the vessels were stopped tight by a plug of wood or cork, which was made impervious to the atmosphere by being rubbed over with a composition of pitcn, clav. wax, or gypsum. On the outside, the title of the wine wa.i painted, and among the Romans the date of the vintage was denoted by the names of the Consuls then in ofiice. When tlie vessels were of glass, small tickets or labels, called "pittacia," were suspended from them, stating to a similar eflect. The "seriiv;" were much the same as the " dolia," perhaps somewhat smaller; they were both long, bell-mouthed vessels of earthenware, formed of the best clay, and lined with pitch while hot from the furnace. " Seria?" were also used to contain oil and other liquids; and in the Captivi of Plautus the word is applied to pans used for the purpose of salting meat. " Kelino" signifies the RCt of 'aking the seal of pitch or was oU" the stopper of the wiae-vesseL Pc. L TIIK SELF-TORMICNTOR. It'l CnuEM. If it 13 your determination thus to act, I hold it to be of very givat moment that he slionld not be aware that witli a full kiiowlodL,^^ you i;iiint him this. I\Ik..v. What shall 1 do? CiiiiEM. Anything, rather than what yon are thinking of; supply him with iiioiin/ throui^li some other person ; sutli r yourself to be imposed upon by the artifiees of his servant : although I have smelt out this too, that they are about that, «/«/ are seeretly planning it among them. Syrus is lans to the young men ; and it were better for you to losi- a Udfut this way, than a mina the other. Tlie money is i i;ot the question now, but this — in what way we ean supply ' it to the young man with the least danger. For if he unee knows the state of your feelings, that you woidd sooner juirt with your life, and sooner with all your money, than allow your sou to leave you ; whew! what an inlet ^ will you be opening for his debauchery! aye, and so much so, that hence- .' forth to live cannot be desirable to you. For we all become / worse through indulgence. Whatever comes into his head, he'll be wishing for ; nor will he reflect whether that which l.e desires is right or wrong. You will not be able to endure youi" estate and him going to ruin. You avlU refuse to supply him : he will immediately have recourse to the means by which he finds that he has the greatest bold upon you, and thivaten that he will immediately leave you. ^Iex. You seem to speak the truth, and just what is the fact. Chrem. I'faith, I have not been sensible of sleep this night with my eyes,^ for thiidcing of this— how to restore your sod tu you. -^ ' With that servant of yours) — Ver. 473. Dromo. * What an inlet) — Ver. 482. " Fenestram ;" literally, "a window." ^ This night with viy ei/es)—YeT. 491. Colman lias the following Note here : " Hedelin obstinately contends from this passage, that neither Chremes nor any of his family went to bed the whole night; tlio contrarj- of which is evident, as ilenage observes, from the two next ,. 'enes. For why should Syrus take notice of his being up so early, if he had never retired to rest ! Or would t'hrenies have rejjroaihed Clitipho for his behaviour the night before, had the fea-t never beta interrupted? Eugraphius' interpretation of these words is natural ana Oiivious, who explains them to siirnify that the anxiety of Chrcnies to icotorc Cliuia to Alcucdcmu;j bruise his rust." / 162 HEALTONTISrORUMENOS; Act TIL JMen. {falling his hand.) Give ine your right hand. I request that you will still act in a like manner, Chi-emes. Chrem. I am ready to serve you. Men. Do you know what it is I now want you to do ? Chrem. Tell me. Men. As you have perceived that they are laying a plan to deceive me, that they may hasten to complete it. I /ong to give him whatever he wants ; I am now longing •to behold him. Chrem. I'll lend my endeavours. This little business is in my way. Our neighbours Simus and Crito are disputing here about boundaries ; they have chosen me for arbitrator. I'll go and tell them that I cannot possibly give them my attention to-day as I had stated I would. I'll be here im- mediately. (Exit. Men. Pray do. {To himself.) Ye Gods, by our ti-ust in you ! That the nature of all men should be so constituted, that they can see and judge of other men's affairs better than their own ! Is it because in our own concerns we are biassed either with joy or grief in too gi-eat a degree ? How much wiser now is he for me, than I have been for myself! He-enter Chremes. Chkem. I have disengaged myself, that I might lend yon my services at my leisure. Synis must be found and insti-ucted by me in this bimness. Some one, I know not who, is coming out of my house ; do you step hence home, that they may not perceive ' that we are conferring together. (Menedemus goes into his house.) Scene IT. Enter Syrus from the house of Chremes. Syr. {aloud to himself.) Run to and fro in eveiy direction ; still, money, you must be found : a trap must be laid for the old man. ' Tliat they may not perceive) — Yer. 511. Madame Dacier observes that Chremes seizes this as a very plausible and Dccessarj* pretence to eiiixage Menedemus to return home and not to his labours in the field, B8 he had at tirht iutcudcd. Sc. TI. THK SEI-F-TOnMENTOR. 103 Chrem. {npart,ov<^rhearin(f him.) Was T doroivod in xatfinrj tlifit tlu'V woiv phmnint; this ? Tliat servant of Oliiiia'a is s<:.nioNvliat dull ; thfielorc that province h;ts been assigned to this one of ours. Svit {in a loir voire.) Who's that speakinf^? {Cntrhe» tiqht ^/CnKEMK-s.) I'm undone! Did he hear it, I wonder? Chrem. Svrus. Svit Well CiiHEM. What are yon doini^ here ? Syr. All riicht. Really, I am quite surpris' d at you, Chremes, up so early, after drinking so much yesterday. Chrem. Not too much. Syr. Not too tni/rh, say yon ? Really, you've seen the old age of an eacjle,' a.s the saying is. Chrem. Pooh, pooh! Syr. A plea.sant and agreeable woman this Courtesan. Chrem. Why, so she seemed to me, in fact. Syr. And really of handsome appearance. Chrem. Well enough. Syr. Not like tho., tkhio tlu> more' Vou see what his w^e is; [axit/t) and truly, Clireines,' if an oeeasion does hapiien, I may lie alile to liandle you riijlit handsomely. Ciiiu;m. As to that, we'll consider wliat is requisite wIkui the ocea^iou does hapjien. At present do you set aliout this matter. {Goes into //is //ow.sv.) Syr. {fo fiiiiixrlf.) Never on any oeeasion did I hear my master talk more to the purpose; nor at an;/ time eould J helieve that I was authorized to l)laj the rogue with greater impunity. T wonder who it is eomiug out of our liouse? (Stands aside.) Scene III. Enter Chremes and Clitivho from the house of the former. CnuESi. Pray, what does this mean? What behaviour is this. Cliti]ihor Is this acting as becomes you? Cut. What have I done? ' CniiEM. Did I not see you just now putting your hand into I this Courtesan's bosom? Syr. {apart.) It's all up Avith us — I'm utterly undone! Cut. What. I? Chrem. With these selfsame eyes I saw it don't deny ^ it. Besides, you wrong him unworthily in not keeping your hands otl" : for indeed it is a gi-oss affront to entertain a iei-son, your friend, at your house, and to take libei'ties with lis mistress. Yesterday, for instance, at wine, how rude ,'ou were i Syr. {apart.) 'Tis the truth.' ' But in case, vone the more) — Ver. 555. "Scd si quid, ne quid." An instance of A poaiopesis, signifying " But it anything does happen, don't you blame me." 1 And truhj, Chremen) — Ver. 557. Some suppose that this is said in apparent candour liy Syrus, in order the more readily fo throw Chromes od his guard. Other Commentators, again, fancy these words to ho Faid by Syrus in a low voice, aside, which seems not improbable; it being a just retribution on Chromes for his recommendation, however well intended : in that aaae, Chremes probably overhears 'X, if we m;iy judge from his answer. ' 'Tia the (nith^—Yer. 5G8. "Factum." "Done for" is anothct tr.iQslatioa which this word will here admit of. 166 HEATJTONTIMORUMENOS ; A?t II- i'V Chrem. How annoying you were I So much so, tliat for my part, as the Gods may prosper me, I dreaded what in the end might be the consequence. I understand lovers. They resent highly things that you would not imagine. Clit. But he has full conhdence in me, father, that I would not do anything of that kind. Chuem. Be it so ; still, at least, you ought to go some- where for a little time away from their presence. Passion prompts to many a things your presence acts as a restraint upon doing them. I form a judgrment from myself. There's not one of my friends this day to whom I would venture. Clitii:)ho, to disclose all my secrets. With one, his station forbids it; with another, I am ashamed of the action itselt, lest I may appear a fool or devoid of shame] do you rest assured that he does the same.^ But it is our part to be sensible of this; and, when and where it is requisite, to show due complaisance. Syr. (coming forward and whispering to Clitipho.) What is it he is saying? Clit. {aside, to Syrus.) I'm utterly undone ! Syr. Clitipho, these same injunctions I gave you. You have acted the part of a prudent and discreet person." Clit. Hold your tongue, I beg. Syr, Very good. Chrem. {approaching them.) Syrus, I am ashamed of him. Syr. I believe itj and not ^vithout reason. Why, he vexes myself even. Clit. {to Syrus.) Do you persist, then ? Syr. I' faith, I'm saying the truth, as it appears to me. Clit. May I not go near them ? Chrem. How now — pray, is there but one way* of going near them ? Syr. {aside.) Confusion ! He'll be betraying himself before I've got the money. {Aloud.) Chremes, will you give attention to me, who am but a silly pei'son? Chrem. What am I to do ? Syr. Bid him go somewhere out of the way. ' That he does the same)— Yer. 577. Clinia. * 0/ a prudent and discreet person)— Yer. 580. This is said ironi- cally. * Js thtre but one way) — Ver. 5S3. And that an immodest oue. Re. III. HE SELF-TORMENTOR. 107 Ci.iT. Where am I to go ? Syiw Where you pk-asc; leave the place to them; Ik) off tuiil take a walk. ' Cut. Take a walk ! where ? / Syk. r.sliiiw ! Just as if there was no place to teal k in. r\Vhy, thru, go this way. that way, where you will. CiiKEM. Ho says right, I'm ot" his opinion. Cut. May tlie Ciods extirpate you, iSyrus, for thru.sting me away from here. Syr. [iixiilc to Clitipho.) Theu do you for the future keep iiliose hands oj' i/oiirs within bound.s. {Exit Clitipuo.) I Keally now {to Ciire.mes), what do you think ? What do } ou imagine will become of him next, unless, so far as the I iJods ali'ord you the means, you watch him, correct ami I ;ulmoui.sh him ? CiiR>-M. I'll tiJce care of that. Syr. But now, master, he must be looked after by you. CuREM. It shall be done. Syr. If you are wise, — for now he minds me less and less treri/ da If. C11RE.M. ^\^lat sat/ you ? W^hat have you done, Syrus, about that matter which I was mentioning to you a shoit time since? Have you any plan that suits you, or not, yet even ? Syr. You mean the design upon Menedemus ? I have; 1 have just hit ujion one. CuREM. You are a clever fellow; what is it ? Tell me. S\"R. I'll tell you ; but, as one matter arLses out 0/ another , CiiiiE.M. Why, what is it, Syrtis ? Syr. 'l'iiis,^H4tM!t,«^Kaji is a. vftrx t^^ ^gQJngjl:. CllREil. So she seems. Syr. Aye, if you did but know. O shocking! just see what she is hatching. There was a certain old woman here li-om Corinth, — this Macchis lent her a thousand silver di"achmje. CuREM. WTiatthen? Syr. She is now dead: she has left a daughter, a young girl. She has been left with this Bacclds as a pledge for that lum. CuREU. I understand you. 1^8 HEAUTOXTIMOBT-MEXOS ; Act TIL, Sc. IV. SvR. She has brought her hither alon^ with her, her I mean who is now with yoiu' wife. ' Chrem. "What then ? Syr. She is soliciting Clinia at once to advance her this money ; she says, however, that this girl is to be a security, tliat, at a futiu'e time, she will repay the thousand pieces of money. Chrem. And would she really be a seciu'ity ?' Syr. Dear me, is it to be doubted ? I think so. Chrem. What then do you intend doing ? Syr. "What, I? I shall go to Menedemus ; I'll tell him she is a captive from Caria, rich, and of noble family; if he redeems her, there will be a considerable pi'ofit in this ti'ansaction. Chrem. You are in an error. Syr. Why so ? Chrem. I'll now answer you for ]\Ienedemus — I will not purchase her. Syr. What is it you say ? Do speak more agreeably to our wishes. Chrem. But there is no occasion. Syr. No occasion ? Chrem. Certainly not, i' faith. Syr. How so, I wonder ? Chrem. You shall soon know.' ' With your wife) — Yer. 604. Jladame Dacier remarks, that as Anti- phila is shortly to be acknowledged as the daughter of Chremes, she is not therefore in company with the other women at the feast, who are Courtesans, but with the wife of Chremes, and ccnseqnently free from reproach or scandal. - Would she really be a securily)~Yer. 606. The question of Chremes seems directed to the fact whether the girl is of value sufficient to be good security for the thousand drachmae. ^ You shall soon know) — Yer. 612. Madame Dacicr suggests that Chremes is prevented by his wife's coming from making a proposal to advance the money himself, on the supposition that it will l)e a lucrative speculation. This notion is contradicted by Colman, who add? the following note from luigraphins: "Synis pretends to have concerted this plot against Menedemus, in order to trick him out of some money to be given to Clinia's supposed mistress. Chremes. however, does not approve of this: yet it serves to carry on the plot; for when Autiphila proves afterwards to be the daughter of Chremes, he necessarily becomes the debtor of Bacchis, and is obliged to lay down the sum for wliicli li9 imagiucs Lis daughter is pledged.' Act TV., So. I. Tin: SELF-TORMr.vTOR, 1C3 Syk. Stop, stop; what is the reason that tlioro is such a great uoise at our door ? {T/iri/ retire uui of' sijhtJ) ACT THE FOURTH. Scene I. Untrr SosTR.\TA and a NrnsE in Jinsfe from ilip Jiousf; of C1IRE.MES, and Chremes and Syrus on the other side of the stage unperceived. Sos. {holding up a ring and examining it.) Unless my fancy deceives me, surely this is the rini; ■svhich I suspect it to be, the same \vith vhich my dau!:rhter was exposed. CuREM. {apart.) Syrus, "wliat is the meaning of these ex- pressions ? Sos. yurse, how is it ? Does it not seem to you the same ? Nl"r. As for me, I said it was the same the very instant that you showed it me. Sos. But have you now examined it thoroughly, my dear nurse? NuR. Thoroughly. Sos. Then go in doors at once, and if she has now done bathing, bring me word. Ill wait here in the meantime for my husband. Syr. {apart.) She wants you, see what it is she wants ; she is in a sei'ious mood, I doni't know why ; it is not without a cause 1 fear what it may be. Chreji. What it may be? I'Taith, she'll now surely be annoimcing some important trifle, with a great parade. Sos. {turning round.) Ha! my husband! CuREM. Ha ! my wife ! Sos. I was looking for you. Chrem. Tell me what you want. t Sos. In the fii-st place, this I beg of you, not to believe \ that I have ventured to do anything contrary to your 1 commands. ' CuREM. Would you have me believe yon \n this, although so incredible ? }\ til, 1 will believe you. 170 HEAUTONTIMORUMEHOS; Act IT. Syr. (aside.) This excuse portends I know not what offence. Sos. Do you remember me being pregnant, and yourself declaring to me, most peremptorily, that if I should briug forth a girl, you would not have it brought up. Chrem. I know what you have done, you have brought it up. Syr. (aside.) Such is the fact, I'm sure : my young master has gained a loss' in consequenca Sos. Not at all ; but there was here an elderly woman of 09linth, of no indifferent character ; to her I gave it to be exposed, CiiREM. Jupiter! that there should be such extreme folly in a persons mind. Sos. Alas ! what have I done ? Chrem. And do you ask the question ? Sos. If I have acted wrong, my dear Chremes, I have done so in ignorance. Chrem. This, indeed, I know for certain, even if you were to deny it, that in everything you both speak and act igno- i-antly and foolishly : how many blunders you disclose in this jingle affdii- ! For, in the first place, then, if you had been ■lisposed to obey my orders, the child ought to have been Mispatched ; you ought not in words to have feigned her Meath, and in reality to have left hopes of her surviving. iJut that I pass over; compassion, maternal affection, I allow it. But how finely you did provide for the future ! What was your meaning ? Do reflect. It's clear, beyond a doubt, that your daughter was betrayed by you to this old woman, cither that through you she might make a living by her, or that she might lie sold in Qpen maiket as a slave. I su])- 1])0se you reasoned thus: "anything is enough, if only her life is saved :" what ai-e you to do with those who under- stand neither law, nor right and justice ? Be it for better or for worse, be it for them or against them, they see notliiug except just what they please. Sos, My dear Chremes, I have done wrong, I 0"\vn ; I nm convinced. Now this I beg of you; inasmuch as you ai'e ' Has gained a /o.^.s)— Ver. 62S. lie alludes to Clitipho, who, by the discovery of his sister, would not come in for such a large share of his lather's property, and would consciiueutly, as Syrus observes, gain a loss. Sc. T. THE SELF-TORMmiTOR. 171 iimio aihancLHl in years than I, bo so nuuli tlio more rt^afly to t'orijivo ; so that your justice may be aome jji'otection for my weakness. CiiKKM. I'll readily forgive you doiiicj this, of coui^se ; but, Sostrata, my easy temper prompts you to do amiss. But, Nvliatever this circiimafaiice is, by reaisou of which this was betjim upon, pi'ooeeil to tell it. Sos. As we iconini are all foolishly and wretchedly super- stitious, when I delivered t/ic child to her to be exposed, I drew a ring from otf my finger, and ordered her to exjjose it, together with the cliilil; i/iat if she should die, she might not be without' some portion of oiu* possessions. (CiiREM. That irrtjf right; thcrebi/ yon proved the saving of ourself and her.' Sos. (hohiiiii/ out the ring.) This is that ring. Chuem. \Yhence did you get it ? Sos. From the young womau whom Bacchis brought here with her. Syr. {aside) Ha! CiiREM. What does she say? Sos. She gave it me to keep for her, whilst she went to bathe. At fii-st I paid no attention to it; but after I looketl at it, I at once recognized it, and came nmning to you. Chrem. What do you suspect now, or have you discovered, relative to her ? Sos. I don't know ; unless you enquire of herself whence she got it, if that can possibly be discovered. ' That she might not be tcithoitt) — V^r. 652. Madame Dacier observe? upon this passage, that the ancientsjjiought themselves guilty of a heinous oflence if they suficrcd their children to die without having licstowed on them some of their property; it was consequently the custom of the women, before exposing children, to attach to them V'lme jewel or trinket among their clothes, hoping thereby to avoid !ucurring the guilt above-mentioned, and to ease their consciences. -' Saving of yoursdf and her) — Vcr. 053. Madame Dacier says that the meaning of this pa.ssage is this: Chremcs tells his wife that by liaving given this ring, she has done two good acts instead of one — she las both cleared her conscience and saved the child; for had there tieen no ring or token exposed with the infant, the -finder would not have been at the trouble of taking care of it, but might have left it to ])eriah, never suspecting it would be enquired after, or himself liberally icAordcd for having preserved it. 172 HEAUTONmroRUSTENOs; Act TV. Syr. {aside.) I'm undone ! I see more hopes* from this incident than I desire. If it is so, she certainly must be ours. Chrem. Is this icoman living to -whom you delivered tht child? Bos. I don't know. Chre-M. What accoimt did she bring you at the time ? Sos. That she had done as I had ordered her. Chrem. Tell me what is the woman's name, that she may be enquired after. Sos. Phjltere. Syr'' (a«/c?e.) 'Tis the very same. It's a wonder if she isn't found, and I lost. Chrem. Sostrata, follow me this way in doors. Sos. How much beyond my hopes has this matter tunaed out ! How dreadfully afraid I was, Chremes, that you would now be of feelings as imrelenting as formerly you were on exposing the child. Chrem. Many a time a man cannot be^ such as he would be, if circimistances do not admit of it. Time has now so brought it about, that I should be glad of a daughter; iormarl j Z^cished for nothing less^ (CHREiiEgTnrcHiiuyTKATA go tnio the house. Scene II. Syrus alone. Syr. Unless my fancy deceives me,' re tribut ion* will not ' / see more hopes) — Yer. 659. Syrus is now alarmed that Antiphila should so soon be acknowledged as the daughter of Chremes. lest be may lo.se the opportunity of obtaining the money, and be punished iW well, in case the inipo.4tion is detected, and Bacchis discovered to be the mistress of Clitipho and not of Clinia. - A man cannot be) — Yer. 666. This he saj'S by way of palliating the cruelty he was guilty of in his orders to have the child put to death. " Unless my fancy deceives me) — Yer. 66S. " Nisi me animus fallit." He comically repeats the very same words with which Sostrata com- menced in the last Scene. •* Bctribution) — yer. 6GS. "Infortunium" was the name by which the slaves commonly denoted a beating. Colman has the following remark here: " Madame Dacicr, and most of the later critics who have implicitly followed her, tell ui that in the interval between the third So. TIT, THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 173 bo very fur off from nio ; so mucli by this incident nro my forces now utterly driven into straits ; unless 1 contrive by some means that the oKl man mayn't come to know that this damsel is his son's misti-ess. For as to entertaining any hopes about the money, or supposinij I ecndd cajole him. it's useless ; I shall be sujficienthf triumphant, if I'm allowed to escape with my siiles covered.' I'm vexed that such a tempt'utij moi-sel has been so suddenly snatched away from my jaws. What am I to do ? Or what shall I devise ? I mu.st bejjjin u])on my ])lan over ai^jain. Nothing is so diffi- cult, but that it may be fonnil out by seeking. What now if I set about it after this fashion. {He coiisidrrs.) That's of no use. What, if after this fashion? I etiect just about the s;une. But this I think will do. It cannot. Yes! excellent. Bmvo! I've found out the best of all — I' faith, I do believe that after all I shall lay hold of this same run- away money." Scene III, Enter Clixia at the other side of the stage. Clin, {to himself.) Nothing can possibly henceforth befall * and fourth Acts, Syrus has been present at the interview between I Chromes and .Ant'phila within. Tiie only difliculty in this doctrine is how to reconcile it to the apparent ignorance of Syrus, which he dis- covers at the entrance of Cliuia. But this objection, says she, is easily answered. Syrus having partly heard Antiphila's story, and finding things likely to take an unfavourable turn, retires to consider what is best to be done. But surely this is a most unnatural impatience at FO critical a conjuncture; and, after ay, would it not be better to take up the matter just where Terence has left it, and to suppose that Syrus knew nothing more of the affair than>what might be collected from tiie late conversation between Chremcs and Sostrata, at which we know he was present? This at once accounts for his apprehensions, which he betrayed even during that Scene, as well as for his imperfect knowledge of the real state of the case,^ill apprised of the whole l)y Clinia." ' With mil sides covered) — Ver. G73. He most probably alludes to the custom of tying up the slaves by their hands, after stripping them naked, when of course their " latera" or "sides" would be exposed, and come in for a share of the lashes. • Runaway moneys — Ver. GTS. "Fugitivum argentum." Madame J^acier suggests that this is a bad translation of tlie words of Meuander, which were "(i— DTroninr riv ininrt-av \iivoiiv," where " \^\}aii^" bijfiiilied boLh "gold," and the name ot a slave. 174 HEAtJTONTIMORUirEN'OS; ActlY. xae of such consequence as to cause me uneasiness; so ex- treme is_t]iis joy that has surprised me. Now then I shall give myself up entirely to my father, to be more frugal than even he could wish. Syr. (apart.) I wasn't mistaken; she has been discovered, so far as T understand from these words of his. {Advancing.) I am rejoiced that this matter has turned out for you so much to your wish. CXiN. O my dear Syrus, have you heard of it, pray? Syr. How shouldn't I, when I was present all the whUe? Clin. Did you ever hear of anything falling out so fortu- nately for any one? Syr. Never. Clin. And, so may the Gods prosper me, I do not now rejoice so much on my own account as hei^s, whom I know to be deserving of any honor. Syr. I believe it : but now, Chnia, come, attend to me in my turn. For your friend's business as well, — it must be seen to — that it is placed in a state of security, lest the old gentleman should now come to know anything about his mistress. Clix. Jupiter! Syr. Do be quiet. Clin. My A ntiphila will be mine. Syr. Do you still interrupt me thus? Clin. What can I do? My dear Syrus, I'm transported with joy! Do bear with me. Syr. I' fixith, I really do bear with you. Clin. We are blest with the life of the Gods. Syr. I'm taking pains to no purpose, I doubt. Clin. Speak ; I hear you. Syr. But still you'll n^mind it. Clin. I will. Syr. This must be seen to, I say, that your friend's busi- 1 ness as well is placed in a state of security. For if you now Ago away from us, and leave Bacchis here, our old man will immediately come to know that she is Clitipho's mistress ; if you take her away with you, it will be concealed just as much as it has been hitherto concealed. Clln. But still, Syrus, nothing can make more against c>^' S<\ TTT. THE SELF-TORMF.NTOR. 175 tnarrirtge than this; l\)r with what fare am T to address my Tatlu'r ahoiit it ^ You uiulorstjiiul wlmt 1 im-an? Syii. Why not? Cmn'. Wlial i-an T s;iy? What excuse can I make? Svit, Nay, I (Uni't want you to dissemble ; tell him the whole case just as it really is. Clin. What is it you sjiy? ; Syr. I bid you do this; tell him that you arc in love with her, and wimt her for a wife: that this Bacchis is Clitipho's inistreas. Clin. You require a thing that is fair and reasonable, and easy to be done. And I suppose, then, you would have mo request my father to keep it a secret from your old man. Syr. On the contrary; to tell him tlirectly the matter just as it is. Clin. Wliat? Are you quite in your senses or sober? Why, you were for ruining him outright. For how could he be in a slate of security? Tell me that. Sy'r. For my part, I yield the palm to this device. Here I do pride myself exultingly, in having in myself such exquisite : rest)urces, and power of address so gi'eat, as to deceive them both l\v telling the truth : so that when your old man tell^ ours that she is his son's mistress, he'll stUl not believe him. Clin. But yet, by these means you again cnt off all hopes )f my marriage; for as long as Chremes believes that she is my mistress, he'll not give me his daughter. Perhaps you care little what becomes of me, so long as you provide for him. Sy'R. What the plague, do you suppose I want this pre- tence to be kept up for an age r^ 'Tis but for a single day, nnlif till I have secured the money : you be quiet ; 1 ask no more. Clis. Is that siifficient ? If his father should come to k now of it, pray, what then ? Syr. What if I have recourse to tho.se who say, " What now if the sky were to fall ? " ' ' If the sky wpre to fall) — Ver. 719. Tie means those who create nn- nccessary ditliciiltics in their imagination. Colman quotes tlie following rumark from Patrick: "There is a rcra,'irkal)lc pa.«.«agc in Arrian's Account of Alexander, lih. iv.. where he tells us that some ambassadors 176 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; [Act lY. CuN. I'm afritiJ to go about it. Syr. You, afraid ! As if it was not in your power to clear yourself at any time you like, and discover the ichule matter. Clin. Well, well ; let Baocliis be brouglit over to our Syr. Capital ! she is coming out of doors. Scene IY. Enter Bacchis and Vwrygix, from tJie lionse of Chremes. Bacch. {pretending not to see Cix^ix and ^trvs.) To a very fine purpose,^ upon my faith, have the promises of Syrus brought me liither, who agreed to lend me ten minse. If now he deceives me, oft as he may entreat me to come, he shall come in vain. Or else, when I've promised to come, and fixed the time, when he has carried word back for certain, and Clitipho is on the stretch of expectation, I'll disappoint him and not come. Syrus will make atone- ment to me with his back. Clin, {apart, to Syrus.) She promises you very faii'ly. from the Celtoe, being asked by Alexander what in the world they dreaded most, answered, ' That they feared lest the sky should fall [upon them].' Alexander, who expected to hear himself named, was surprised at an answer which siguitied that they thought themselves beyond the reach of all human power, plainly implying that nothing could hurt them, unless he would suppose impossibilities, or a total destruction of nature." Aristotle, in his Physics, B. iv., informs us that it was the early notion of ignorant nations that the sky was sup- ported on the shoulders of Atlas, and that when he let go of it, it would fall. > To a very fine purpose) — Ver. 723. "Satis pol proterve," &c. C. Lailius was said to have assisted Terence in the composition of his Mays, and in coiifirmatiou of this, the following story is told by Cor- nelius Ncpos : " C. l.ailius, happening to pass the JIatronalia [a Festival en the tirst of March, when the husband, for once in the year, was bound to obey the wife] at his villa near Tuteoli, was told that dinner was waiting, but still neglected the summons. At last, when he made his appearance, he excused himself by saying that he had been in a particular vein of composition, and quoted certain lines which occur in the Ileautontimorumeuos. namely, those beginning 'Satis pol pro terve me Syji promissa iiuc indu xcruuU' " So IV. Tlir SF.I.F TORMKNTOR. 177 Syii. {fo Cl.iMA.) r>ut tlo you think slio is in jest? She'll ilo it, if I don't t;iko euro. li.vccn. (aside.) Thry're nsloop' — I'faith, I'll rouso tlicni. (lloiitl.) My diar rhry>j;iii, did you hear about the oountry- seat of Charinus. wliii-li that man was showing lis just now ? VliKY. I heard of it. B.vi'Cir. {(iloiui.) That it was the next to tht- farm hcio on till" riixht htuid side.* PiiKY. I romonibor. r>.vcTir. (aloud.) l\un thither post haste ; the Captain is koi'ping the feast of Riocluis' at his house. 8yii. (aparf.) What is she going to be at ? B.vccH. (aloud.) Tell him I am here very much against my inclination, and am detained ; but that by some means or other I'll give them the slip and come to him. (Purygia mores.) Syr. (coming forward.) Upon my faith, I'm ruined ! \ Ricehis, stay, stay; prithee, where ai*e you sending her? Order her to stop. B.\ccn. (^0 Phrygia.) Be off. Syr. Why. the money's ready. Baccii. Why, then I'll stay. (Phrygia returns.) Syr. iVnd it will be given you presently. Baccii. Just when you ]iU'ase ; do I press you ? Syr. But do you know what you are to do, pray ? Bacch. What? Syr. You must now go over to the house of Menedemus and your equipage must be taken over thither. B.\CCH. What scheme are you upon, you rascal ? Syr. What, I ? Coining money 1;o give to you. Bacch. Do you think me a propgr person /or you to play upon ? ' They're a.ileep') — Ver. 730. " Dormiunt." This is clearly figuratively, though Hedelin interprets it literally. - Farm here on the rvjld hand side) — Ver. 732. Cooke suggests that the Poet makes Baechis eall the house of Charinus " villa," and that of Chremes " funtlns" (which signifies " a farm-house,'" or "farm"), for tho purpose of exalting the o.ie and depreciating the other in the hearing of Syrus. ' The feast of Bacchus) — Ver. 733. This passage goes far to prove that the Diony.-ia here mentioned as being celebrated, were those tar uypui\, or the "rural Diouytia." V 178 HEAUT0XTIM0RU3IEX0S ; Act IV. Syr. It's not -without a purpose. Bacch. {pointing to the house.) Why, have I any business then with you hei'c ? Syr. no ; I'm only going to give you what's your own. Bacch. Then let's be going.* Syr. Follow this way. ( Goes to the door of Menedemus, and calls.) Ho there ! Di'omo. Enter DviO^o, from the house. Dro. Who is it wants me ? Syr. Syrus. Dro. What's the matter ? Syr. Take over all the attendants of Bacchis to your house here immediately. Dro. Why so ? Syr. Ask no questions. Let them take what they brought here with them. The old gentleman will hope Ills expenses are lightened by their depaxiiure ; for sure he little knows how much loss this trifling gain will bring him. You, Dromo, if you are wise, know notliing of what you do know. Dro. You shall own that I'm dumb. (Clixia, Bacchis, and Phrygia go into the house of Mexedemus, and Dromo ■follows with Bacchis's retinue and baggage.) Scene Y. Enter Chremes froyn his house. Chrem. {to himself.) So may the Deities prosper me, I am now concerned for the fate of Menedemus, that so gi-eat a I'tnLsfortune shoiild have befallen him. To be maintaining Ithat woman with such a retinue ! Although I am well awai'e he'll not be sensible of it for some days to come, his son was so gi'eally missed by him ; but when he sees such a vast expense incurred by him every day at home, and no limit to ' Let's he going) — Ver. 742. Colman here remarks to the following iffcct: "There is some difficulty in this ami the next speech in the jriginal. and the Commentators have been puzzled to make sense of tiiem. It seems tome tliat the Poet's intention is no more than this: ]5acchis expresses some reluctance to act under the direction ot Syrus, but is at length prevailed on, findiuc: that he can by those means contrive to pay her the monay which he has promised her." Sv.\ V. THE SELF-TOnMENTOn. 17!) it. ho'll wish that this sou would K-avo hiui a second liinc. Soo — horo comes Syrus most oi)i>ortuni'Iy. Syu. {to himsflj', as he comes Juncurd.) Why delay to •ccost him ? Chrem. Svrus. Syii. Woli. On REM. How go matters ? Syr. Fvo beeu wishing for some time for you to be thrown in my way. Chrem. You seem, then, to have effected something, I know not what, with the old gentleman. Syr. As to what we were talking of a short time since ? Xo sooner said than done. Chrem. In real earnest? Syr. In real. Chrem. Upon my faith, I cannot forbear patting your head for it. Come here, Syrus ; I'll do you some good turn for this matter, and with pleasure. {Patting his head) Syr. But if you knew how cleverly it came into my head Chrem. Pshaw ! Do you boast because it has turned out according to your wishes ? Syr. On my word, not I, indeed ; I am telling the truth. Chrem. Tell me how it is. Syr. Clinia has told Meuedemus, that this Bacchis is your Clitipho's mistress, and that he has taken her thither v/itli him in order that you might not come to know of it. Chrem. Very good. Syr. Tell me, please, ichat you think of it. Chrem. Extremely qood, I declare. Syr, ^Vlly yes, pretty fair. Bu* listen, what a piece of piilicy still remains. He is then to say that he has seen yuur daughtei' — that her beauty charmed him as soon as ho l>eheld her ; and that he desires her for a wife. Chrem. What, her that has just been discovered ? Syr. The same ; and, in fact, he'll request that she may lie asked for. Chrem. For what purpose, Syi-us ? For I don't altogether comprehend it. Syr. O dear, you are so duLL Ch KKM. Perhaps so. v2 180 HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; Act IV. Syr. Money •will be given him for the wedding — with which golden trinkets and clothes do you understand me ? Chre3I. To buy them ? Syr. Just so. Chrem. But I neither give nor betroth my daughter to Jiim. Syr. But why ? Chrem. Why, do you ask me ? To a fellow Syr. Just as you please. I don't mean that in reality you should give her to him, but that you should pretend it. Chrem. Pretending is not in my way ; do you mix up these plots of yours, so as not to mix me up iii tliem. Do you think that I'll betrotli my daughter to a person to whom I will not marry her ? Syr. I imagined so. Chbem. By no means. Syr. It might have been cleverly managed ; and I under- took this afirtir for the very reason, that a short time since you so lu'gently requested it. Chrem. I believe you. Syr. But for my part, Chremes, I take it well and good, either ivay. Chrem. But still, I especially wish you to do your best for it to be brought about ; but in some other way. Syr. It shall be done : some other method must be thought of; but as to what I was telling you of, — about the money which she owes to Bacchis, — that must now be repaid her. And you will not, of course, now be having recourse to this method ; "What have I to do with it ? Was it lent to me ? Did I give any orders ? Had she the power to pa^vn my daughter withoiit my consent?" They quote that saying, Chremes, with good reason, "Rigoraus law^ is often rigorous inj«et4€e." ~~~ ~^ Chrem. I will not do so. Syr. On the contrary, though others were at liberty, you are not at liberty ; all think that you are in good and very easy circumstances. ' Rigorous Jaw) — Ver. 796. Cicero mentions the same proverb in \)is work De OHiciis, B. i., ch. 10, substituting tlie word " injuria" for '■ maliti.i." " ' Extreme biw, extreme injustice,' is now become a stale proverb in discourse." The same sentiment is found in the Fragments of Menander. S<'. VI. THE SFXF-TOUMK.NTOR, ISl (JuREM. Nay rather, I'll at onco carry it to lu-r mystlf. Syic Why no ; roquost your sou in profcreui-o. CmiEM. For what roasou ? ij Syil Why. luvauso the suspicion of boinij in love with fher has been transt'envil to him with McHcdcmua. ' Chuem. What then ? Syr. Because it will seem to ho more like prohability when he ijivcs it her ; and at the same time I shall elloct more easily what I wish. Here he comes too ; go, and bring out the money. CilREiM. rii bring it. {Goes into his house.) Scene VL Enter Clitipho. Clit. {to himnclf.) There is nothing so easy but that it becomes difficult when you do it with reluctance. As this walk of mine, for instance, though not fatiguing, it has reduced me to weariness. And now I cb-ead nothing more than that I should be packed off somewhere hence once again, that I may not have access to Bacchis. May then all the Gods and Goddesses, as many as exist, confound you, Syrus, with these stratagems and plots of yours. You are always devising something of tliis kind, by means of which to torture me. Syr. Will you not away with you — to where you deserve? How nearly had your forwardness proved my ruin! Clit. Upon my faith, I wish it had been so ; just what you deserve. Syr. Deserve? How so? Keally, I'm glad that I've heard this from you before you had the money which I was just going to give you. Clit. What then woiddyou have me say to you? You've made a fool of me ; brought my mistress hither, whom I'm not allowed to touch Syr. Well, I'm not angry then. But do you know whert Bacchis is just now ? Clit. At our house. Syr. No. Cut. Where then ? 182 HEAUTONTIMORUMENGS; Act IV. Syr. At Clinia's. Clit. I'm ruined ! Syr. Be of good heart ; you shall presently carry to her I the money that you promised her. Clit. You do prate away. — Where from ? Syr. From your own father. Clit. Perhaps you are joking with me. Syr. The thing itself will prove it. Clit. Indeed, then, I am a lucky man. Syrus, I do love you from my heart. Syr. But your father's coming out. Take care not to express surprize at anything, for what reason it is done ; give way at the proper moment ; do what he orders, and say but little. Scene VII. Enter Chremes/;'o»i the house, tcith a hag of money. Chrem. Where's Clitipho now ? Syr. {aside to Clitipho.) Say — here I am. Clit. Here am I. Chrem. {to Syrus.) Have you told him how it is ? Syr. I've told liim pretty well everything. Chreil Take this money, and cai-iy it. {Holding out the lag.) Syr. {aside to Clitipho.) Go — why do you stand still, you stone ; why don't you take it ? Clit. Veiy well, give it me. {Receives the hag.) Syr. {to Clitipho.) Follow me this way directly. {To Chremes.) You in the meanwhile will wait here for us till •we return; for there's no occasion for us to stay there long. (Clitipho and Syrus go into the house of Menedemus.) Chrem. {to himself.) My daughter, in fact, has now had ten minte from me, which I consider as paid for her board ; another ten will follow these for clothes ; and then she will requfre two talents for her portion. How many things, hoth just and unjust, are sanctioned by custom!' Now I'm * Are sanctioned hy custom) — Ver. 839. He inveighs, perhaps justly, against the tyranny of custom; but in selecting this occasion for doing so, he does not manifest any great affection for his uewly-fouud daughter. Si- VIII TIIF. SKI.F-TORMF.XTOR. 1 .S3 ol)liuoil, no!:jlecting my Imsiness, to look out for some cm;, ou wlioui to bestow my jiroporty, that lias ln'i-n accniircd ]>y my la hour. Scene VIII. Enter Mexed emus /row his house. Mex. (fo Clixia u'ifhiii.) !My son, I now think myself the happiest of all men, sineo I llnJ that you liave retunieJ. to a r:\tional mode of life. CiiKEM. {aside.) llow mueh he is mistaken ! Mkk. Chremes, yon are the very person I wanted ; pro- serve, so far as in you lies, my son. myself, and my family. Oil REM. Tell me what you would have me do. Men. You have this day found a daughter. CllREM. What then ? Men. Cliuia^i-she s her to be jyiyc " hiT )! for n. wifn. Chrem. Prithee, what kind of a person are you ? Mex. Why? CiiREM. Have you already forgotten what passed between us. eoncerning a scheme, that by that method some money mi<;ht be got out of you ? Mex. I remember. Cni{EM. That self-same thing they are now about. Mex. What do you tell me, Chremes? Wliy surely, this Couiie.-^n, vho is at my house, is Clitipho's mistress. Chrem. So they say, and you believe it all ; and they say . that he is desirous of a "wife, in order that, when I have I betrothe\ Did they? Chrfji. The rogue can even mould the countenances of people.' 'Mes. That my son is pretending that he is overjoyed, is it that you mean ? CllRELM. Just so. {Laughing.) Mex. The very same thing came into my mind. CiiREM. A crafty knave ! Mfa. Still more would you think, such to be the fact, if you knew more. CiiREM. Do you say so? ^Iex. Do you give attention thea-? Chrem. Just stop — fir.st I want to know this, what money you have squandered ; for when you told your son that she was promised, of course Dromo would at once throw in a l^acchidcg of Plautus, 1. 10S7. " Whoever there are in any place what- Miever, whoever have been, and whoever shall he in time to come, fools, blockheads, idiot.s, dolts, sots, oafs, lubbers, 1 singly by fur exceed them all in folly and absurd, ways." ' Mould the countenances of people) — Ver. 887. He means that Syrus not only lays his plots well, but teaches the performers to put on countenauccs suitable to the several parts they arc to act. 186 HEAUTONTIMORUJIENOS; Act V. word that golden jewels, clothes, and attendants would be needed for the bride, in order that you might give the money. Men. No. Chrem. How, no ? Men. No, I tell you. Chrem. Nor yet your son himself? Men. Not in the slightest, Chremes. He was only the more pressing on this one point, that the match might l)e concluded to-day. CnREM. You say what's surprising. What did my servant Syrus do ? Didn't even he say anything? Men. Nothing at all. Chrem. For what reason, I don't know. Men. For my part, I wonder at that, when you know other J things so well. But this same Syrus has moulded your sou,' Ltoo, to such perfection, that there could not be even the i slightest suspicion that she is Clinia's mistress ! f Chrem. What do you say ? Men. Not to mention, then, their kissing and embracing ; that T count nothing. Chrem. What more could be done to carry on the cheat ? Men. Pshaw! Chrem. WHiat do you mean ? Men. Only listen. In the inner part of my house there is a certain room at the back ; into this a bed was brought, and was made iip w'ith bed-clothes. Chrem. What took place after this ? Men. No sooner said than done, thither went Clitipho. Chrem. Alone? Men. Alone. Chrem. I'm alarmed. Men. Bacchis followed directly. Chrem. Alone? Men. Alone. Chrem. I'm undone ! Men. When they liad gone into the room, they shut the door. Chrem. Well — did Clinia see all this going on ? ' Has moulded your son)— Yct. 898. "Mire finxit." He sarca U- cally uses the same word, " lingo," which Chremes himself employed iu 1. 887. So. T. Tin: SELF-TORMENTOR. 1S7 Mex. How shouldn't he ? He wiia with me. CiiREJf. Bacchis is my son's mistress, !Moncclcmus — I'm undone. MtLV Whvso? PifPFu Jl^ i^n^i^hiirrily m>^^^n"rp tiO.-'vffi'^" f"'' ten days.' Mex. What! are you aliunued iit it, beeause Tie Is jwyiug attention to his friend ? CnuEM. His " she-friend" rather.* Men. If he really is paying it. Chrem. Is it a matter of doubt to yon ? Do yon suppose that there is any pei-son of so aecommodatiug anil tame a sjtirit :is to sutfer his own mistress, himself looking on, to Mex. {chuckHii(j and sprakinrj ironically.) Why not? That I may be imposed upon the more easily. Chrem. Do you laugli at me ? You have good reason. How angiy I now am with myself! How many things gave proof, wheivby, had I not been a .stone, I might have been fully sensible of this ? What was it I saw ? Alas ! wretch that I am ! But assuredly they shall not escape my ven- gea nce_if_X_liiji. ; for this instant Men. Can you not contain youi-self ? Have you no respect for youi-self r Am I not a sufficient example to you ? CuREM. For very anger, Me«ut Syrus ibL\. What of him ? CuRt:!!. What ? If I live, I will have him so handsomely dn'ssod, so well combeil out, that he shall idways I'ememlier me aa long as he lives ; to imagine that I'm to be a laugh- ing-stock and a plaything for him ! So may the Gods bless me ! he would not have daivd to do to a widow-woman the things which ho has done to me.* {Tiny go into their respective houses.) Scene IL Enter !Mexedemus, with Clitipho and SvRua Clit. Prithee, is it really the fact, Menedemus, that my father can, in so short a space of time, have cast off all the natural affection of a parent for me? For what crime? What 80 gi'eat enormity have I, to my misfortune, com- mitted? Young jiien geiicrally do the__sa me . Men. I am a^\■are that^his musFbe much more harsh and severe to you, on whom it falls ; but yet I take it no less amiss than you. How it is so I know not, nor can I account for it, except that from my heart I wish you well. Clit. Did not you say that my father was "waiting here? Enter CnKEisssfrom his house. Men. See, here he is. (Menede:mus yoe* into his house.) ' Which he has done to me^ — Yer. §54. Colman has the following Note: " The departure of Menedemus here is very al>rupt, seeming to he in the midst of a conversation ; and his re-entrance with Clitipho, already suppo?ed to be apprized of what has passed between the two old gentlemen, is equally precipitate. Jlenage imagines that some verges are lost here. Madame Dacier strains hard to defend the Poet, and fills up the void of time by her old expedient of making the Audience wait to see Chremes walk, impatiently to and fro, till a suffi- cient time is elapsed for ilenedemus to have given ( litipho a summary account of the cause of his father's anger. The truth is, that a too strict observance of the unity of place will necessarily produce such absurdities: and there are several other instances of the like aaturo In Tcri;u.M. 190 ikEAUTONTIMORUMENOS; Act V. Chrem. Why are (you blaming me, Clitipho ? Whatever I have done in this matter, I had a view to you and your impiiidence. When I saw that you were of a careless dispo- sition, and held the pleasures of the moment of the first importance, and did not look forward to the fiitiu'e, I took measures that you might neither want nor be able to waste this ivhich I have. When, through your own conduct, it was not allowed me to give it you, to whom I ought before all, I had recourse to those who were your nearest relations; to them I have made over and entrusted every thing.^ There you'll always find a refuge for your folly ; food, clothing, and a roof under which to betake yourself. Cut. Ah me ! Chrem. It is better than that, you being my heir, Bacchis should jiossess this estate of mine. Syr. (apart.) I'm ruined in-evocably ! — Of what mischief nave I, wretch that I am, unthinkingly been the cause ? Clit. Would I were dead ! Chrem. Prithee, first learn what it is to live. When you know that, if life displeases you, then try the other. Syr. Master, may I be allowed ? Chrem. Say on. Syr. But mat/ I safely ? Chrem. Say on. Syr. What injustice or what madness is this, that that in which I have offended, should be to his detriment ? / Chrem. It's all over.* Don't you mix yourself up in it; /no one accuses you, Syrus, nor need you look out for an I altar,' or for an intercessor for yourself. ^ Syr. What is your design ? Chrem. I am not at all angry either with you (to Syrus), or with you (to Clitipho) ; nor is it fau- that you ' Entrusted every tiling'" — Vcr. 966. This is an early instance of a trusteeship and a guardianship. - It's all over) — Ver. 974. " Ilicet," literally, "you may go away." This was the formal word with which funeral ceremonies and trials at luw were concluded. 3 Look out for an alfar) — Ver. 975. He alludes to the practice of slaves taking refuge at altars when they had committed any fault, and then suing for pardon through a "precator" or " mediator." See the Mostellaria of I'lautus. 1. 1074. where Tranio takes refuge at the ftii;ir Irum the veugcuuce of his muAicr, Theuropides. Sc. TI. THE SELF-TOnMENTOU. I'M should he so with mo for what I am iloiiig. (77> ffors info his house.) Syi;. ITo's gone. I wish I h.t(l aski-d liim Clit. What, Syrus? Syi{. "Whore I am to get my suhsistonce ; he has 5m> tittorly cast us aih-il't. You are to have it for the present ; ftt your sister's, I fuitl. I Cut. Has it then come to this pass, Syrus— that I am to \o in danger even of starving ? Syr. So we ouly live, there's hope Cut. What hope ? Svit. That we shall be Imnijry enough. Cut. Do you jest in a matter so serious, and not give mf» my as.sistanoe_wuth__yau*--ft4vioo ? Syr-^Uu the contrary, I'm both now thinking of that, and have been about it all the time your father was speaking just now ; and -'^o far as I can perceive Cut. What? Syr. It will not be wanting long. ( Tie meditates.) Cut. What is it, then r Syr. It is this — I think that you are not their son. Cut. How's that, Syrus ? Are you quite in your senses ? Syr. ril tell you what's come into my mind ; be you the judge. Wliile they had you alone, while they had no other source of joy more nearly to affect them, they indulgec/ you, they lavished upon yon. Now a daughter has been f>iund. a pi-etence has been found in fact on which to turn yuu adrift. Clit. It's very probable. ^ Syr. Do you suppose that he is so^ngry on account of this fault? Cut. I do not think so. Syr. Now consider another thing. All mothers are wont to be advocates for their sons when in fault, and to aid then' against a father's severity ; 'tis not so here. Cut. You say true ; what then shall I now do, Syrus ? Syr. Question them on this suspicion ; mention the matter without reserve ; eitlier, if it is not true, you'll soon bring them both to compassion, or else you'll soon find out { whose son you are. i 192 HEAUTOXTlMORUilEXOS ; Act V. Clit. You give good advice ; I'll do so. {He goes into the house of Chremes.) Syr. {to himself.) Most fortunately did this come into my mind. For the less hope the young man entertains, the greater the difficulty with which he'll bring his father to his own terms. I'm not sure even, that he may not take a wife, and then no thanks for Syrus. But what is this? The old man's coming out of doors ; I'll be off. What has so far happened, I am surprised at, that he didn't order me to be carried off from here : now I'll away to Menedemus here, I'll secure him as my intercessor ; I can put no trust in our old man. {Goes into the house of Menedemus.) Scene III. Enter Chremes and ^ostratx from the house. Sos. Really, sir, if you don't take care, you'll be causing some mischief to your son ; and indeed I do wonder at it, my husband, how anything so foolish could ever come into your head. Chrem. Oh, you persist in being the woman? Did I ever wish for any one thing in all my life, Sostrata, but that you were my^^eoati-adicter on thatj ^cgasion ? And yet if I were now to ask yoiT wlnrTlt is that I have done amiss, or why you act thus, you would not know in what point you axe now so obstinately opposing me in your folly. Sos. I, not know ? Chrem. Yes, rather, I should have said you do know ; inasmuch as either expression amounts to the same thing.* Sos. Alas ! you are imreasonable to expect me to be silent in a matter of such impox'tance. Chrem. I don't expect it ; talk on then, I shall still do it not a bit the less. Sos. Will you do it ? Chrem. Certainly. Sos. Don't you see how much evil you will be causing by that course ? — He suspects himself to be a foimdling. * Amounts to the same thing) — Ver. ICIO. " Quam quidem redit ad i\Jegrura eadcm oratio j" meaning, " it amounts to one and the same tliiiiir," or, " it is all the same tliine," whether you do or whether you duu'i know. Ro. rV. THK SF.LK TOllMUXTOH. l«);i Chrem. Do you say no ? Sos. Assuivdly it will bo so. CmiEM. Admit it. Sos. lldlil now — ]>rithee, k't tliat be for oiir Piipniios. A.m I to ailinit that ho is not my son who rraUii is ? C11KE.M. ^^'hat ! are you atVaitl that you cannot jirove that he is yours, whonovor you jiloase ? Sos. Beeauso my clauu;hter has been found: ' Chrem. No ; but for a rcanon why it should bo much sooner believed — because he is just like you in disposition, you will easily prove that he is your child ; for ho is exactly like you ; why, ho has not a sin'j;le vice left him l)ut you have just the same. Then besides, no woman could h:»vc been the mother of such a souj mt y ourst^'. But hos coming; out of doors, and how demure! \Vlien you understand the matter, you may form your own conclusions. Scene IV. I^nfcr QlAllvno from the house o/'CiiREiiES. Clit. If there ever was any time, mother, when I caiised you pleasure, being called your son by your own desire, I beseech you to remember it, and now to take compassion on me in my distress. A thing I beg and request — do discover to me my parents. ' Because my daur/hter Jias been found) — Yer. 10T8. Tliis sentence baa given much trouble to the Coniuientators. Colmau has the follow- ing just remarks upon it: " Madame Dueier, as well as all the rest of the Commentators, h.is stuck at these wprds. Most of them imagine 6he means to say, that the discovery of Antiphila is a plain proof that she is not barren. Madame Dacier supp«»ses that she intimates such a proof to be ea-^y, because Clitipho and Antiphila were e.xtremely alike; which sense she thinks immediately confirmed by the an.swer of Chremes. I cannot agree with any of them, and think that the whole diflicuhy of the passage here, as in many "other places, is entirely of their owu making. Sostrata could not refer to the reply of Chremes, because she Could not possibly tell what it would be ; but her own speech is intended ts an answer to his preceding one, which she takes as a sneer on her U\t« wonderful discovery of a d:iu;^hter; imagining that he mean* to iusinuate that she could at any time with equal ease make out the proofs of the birth of her son. The elliptical mode of expression so Orioal with Terence, together with the rerinemeiits of Comnicn:»*jnv teeoi to have created all the obscurity." o 194 HEALTONTIMORUilEXOS; Act V. Sos. I coniuro jom, my son, not to entertain that notioii in your r::;nd, that you are another person's child. Clit. I am. Sos. Wr -ech that I am ! {Turning to Chremes.) Was it this that you wanted, pray ? {To Clitipho.) So may you be the survivor of me and of him, you are my son and his ; and, henceforth, if you love me, take care that I never hear that speech from you ar/ain. Chrem. But I say, if you fear me, take care how I find these propensities existing in you. f, Clit. What propensities I i Chrem. If you wish to know, I'll tell you ; being a trifler, dn idler, a cheat, a glutton, a debauchee, a spendthrift — Believe me, and believe that you are our son. Clit. This is not the language of a parent. Chrem. If you had been born from my head, Clitipho, just as they say Minerva was from Jove's, none the more on that account would I suffer myself to be disgraced by your profligacy.* Sos. jNIay the Gods forbid it. Chrem. I don't know as to the Gods ;' so far as I shall be enabled, I tcill carefully prevent it. You are seeking that sv^hich you possess — parents ; that which you are in want of you don't seek — in what way to pay Jibedie»ee-fco- a father, and to preserve what he acquired by his industry. That you by trickery should bring before my eyes 1 am ashamed to mention the unseemly word in lias-agc. Madame Dacier has, however, well observed, that the mcaiiiiin; is not '' 1 care not for the Gods," b^t '' 1 know not what the Gods will do." Sc. V. TU£ SELF-TOKMCNTOR. l9o Scene V. Enter MENEDEMUsy/'om ///.? house. ^Wy. {to Iiimsrlf.) Why rcilly, nircmcs is troatincf his Foii too hiii'shly and too unkindly. I'm come out, tlu'irfore, to make peace between them. ^Nlost opportunely I see thorn ioth. C'hrem. Well, ^ronodemus, why don't yon order my d;ini;h- tor to he sent for, and close with the otl'cr' of the poxlion that 1 nuMitionod? 80s. ^ly husband, I entreat you not to do it. Ci.iT. Father, I entreat you to forgive me. Men. Forgive him, Chremcs ; do let them prevail upon you. CnuEM. Am I knomngly to make my property a present to Iviochis? ni not <1o -?V. !Men. Why, we would not suffer it. Clit. If you desire me to live, father, do forgive me. S )S. Dp, my dear Chremes. ^ f ^IenJ Come. Chremes, pray, don't be so obdurate. J CiiHra. What n»i I to do here? I see I am noEallowed to carry this through, as I had intended. Men'. You are acting as becomes you. CliREM. On this con/, "The Urotlicrs'M was performed at the Funeral Games of Lucius iEmilius I'auius, who was surnameJ Maccdonieus, from iiaving Jjaiued a victory i>\er I'erseus, King of Macedon. He was so poor at the lime of his ileoease, that they were oMiircd to sell his estate iu order to pay his widow her dower. The Q. Fabius Ma.\imus and 1^. Cornelius Africanus hero mentioned were not, as some have llioiight, the Curuie /l^diles. but two sons of .Emilius I'aulus. wlio had taken the surnames of the families into which they had been adopted. - Satraiiian Jiiite.i^ The '" Sarranian" or "Tyriau" pipes, or flutes, are supposed to have been of a ijuick and mirthful tone ; Madame Dacicr iias consequently with much justice suLigested that the representation being ou the occasion of a funeral, the title has not come down to us in a complete form, and that it was performed with the Lydiaii. or grave, - .iemn pipe, alternately with the Tyrian. This opinion is also :eni,'!hcncd by the fact that ]")onatus expressly says that it was per- : Tmed to the music of l>ydian flutes. ■ Bfiiifj Consuls) h. Anicius (Jallus and M. Cornelius Cethogus v/ere . uosuls in the year from tlic Building of the City 5U2, and B.C. IGl. ADELPHT; THE BROTHERS. THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLIXARIS. As Demea has two sons, young men, he gives ^flschinus to his brother Micio to be adopted byliini; but he retains Ctesipho: him, captivated with the charms of a Music-girl, and under a liarsh and strict father, his brother iEschinus screens; the scandal of the attair and the amour he takes upon himself; at hvst. he carries the Musie-yirl away from the Procurer. Tliis same yEschinus has ja?-?!-/©;/*/^ debauched a poor woman, a citizen of Atheus, and has given his word that she shall be his wife. Demea upbraids him, and is greatly vexed ; afterwards, however, wlien the truth is discovered, ^schinus marries the girl who has been debauched; and, his harsh father Demea now softened, Ctesipho retains the Music-girl. THE PROLOGUE. Since the Poet has found that his writings are carped at by unfair critics, and that his adversaries represent in a bad light the Plity that we are about to perform, he shall give information about himself; you shall be the judges whether this ought to be esteemed to his praise or to his tlis- credit. The Synapothnescontes* is a Comedy of Diphilus;' Plautus made it into a Play called the " Commorientes." In the Greek, there is a young man. who, at the eai'ly part of the Play, carries otF a Courtesan fi'om a Procurer; that part Plautus has entirely left out. This portion he has adojited m the Adelphi, and has transfeiTed it, translated ^\•ord for word. This new Plai/ we are about to perform ; determine then whether you think a theft has been committed, or a passage has been restored to notice which has been passed over in ' Synapothne.'icontrs) — Ver. 6. Signifying "persons dying together." The "Commorientes" of Plautus is lost. It has been doubted by some, despite these words of Terence, if Plautus ever did write such a Play. - Of Dipliiltis) — Ver. 6. Diphilus was a Greek Poet, contemporary with Menauder. ActL.Sc. I. Ai)i:i,riii; tiik nnornnus. 201 neglect. Fi>r as to wliiit those malrvolent persons siiy, thiit men of noble rank assist him, and are alwavs writin;» m eonjuni'tion with him — tliat wliicli tluy deem to bo u heavy crimination, he takes to be the highest praise ; since he pleases those who please you all and the public ; the aid of whom in war, in peace, in private business,' each ouo has availed himself of, on his o\v\\ occasion, without onif hauu;htiness on their part. Now then, do not exjiect the plot of the riay; the old men' who come first will disclose it in jwrt; a part in the representation they will make known. Po you cause your impartial attention to increase tho in- dustry of the Poet in writing. ACT THE FIRST. Scene I. Untcr !MiciO, calUnrj to a servant tvlfliin. MiC. Storax! ^schinus has not returned home from tho entertainment last ni^ht. nor any of the servants who went to fetch him.' {To himxelf.). Really, they say it with reason, if you are absent anywherev_or iX, you stay abroad any time, 'twure better for that to happen -wWch i/oiir wife says against you, and which in her passion she imagines in her mind, than the things which fond pai'ents fancjJT^ A wife, if you stay long abroad, either imagines that you are in love or are lieloved, or that you are drinking and indulging your inclina- tion, and that you only are takiqg your pleasure, while she herself is misei-able. As for my.self, in consequence of my son not having ivtumccTLome, wllTxt do I imagine? In what ways am I not distui'bed? For fear lest he may either have ' In war, in prace, in private business) ~Ycr. 20. According to Donat'is, by the words " in bello," Terence is supposed to refer to his fi'iend and patron Scipio; by "in otio," to Furius I'ubliiis; and in the words "in negotio" to Laelius, who was famed for his wisdom. - The old nwn) — Ver. 23. This is similar to the words in the Pro- logue to the Trinumnms of Plautus. 1. IG : •' But e.\pcct notiiim; about the plot of this I'lay; the old men who will come hither will disclose the matter to you." > To fetch him)— Yer. 24. "Advorsnm ierant." On tho duties of the ■' advoTji tores," see the Xotcs to Bohn's Trunslation of I'lautus. 202 I ADELPm; Act I. taken cold/ or have fallen down somewhere, or have broken Bome limb. Oh dear! that any man shoukl take it into his head, or find out what is dearer to him than he^ to himself! And yet he is not my son, bnt my brother's.. He is quite different in disposition. I, from my very youth upwards, liave lived a comfortable town life, and taken my ease; and, \ What they esteem a piece of luck, I have never had a wife. ^He, on the contrary to all this, has spent his life in the -—Country, and has always lived laboriously and peuuriously. He married a wife, and has two sons. This one, the elder of them, I have adojited. I have brought him up from an infant, and considered ajid loved him as my ovra. In him I centre my delight"^,'"~tbis object alone is dear to me. On the other hand, I take all due care that he may hold me equally dear.\ I give — I overlook; I do not judge it neces- sary to exert' my authority iii everything ; in fine, the things that youth prompts to, mr^ that others do unkuown to their father.s, I have used my son not to conceal from me. For he, who, as the practice is, will dare to tell a lie to or to d<--ceive his father, will still more dare to do so to others. ^ think it better to restrain children through a sense of shame and liberal treatment, than through fear. On these points my brother does not agree with me, nor do tliey please him. He often comes to me exclaiming, '• What are you about, Micio ? Why do you ruin for us this youth? Why does he intrigue? Why does he drink? Wliy^o you supply him with the means for these goings on ? )K^u indulge him with too much di'ess; you are very inconsiderate." He himself is too strict, beyond what is just and reasonable; and he is very much mistaken, in my opinion, at all events, who thinks that an authority is more firm or moi-e lasting which is -ostablished by force, than that which is founded on aftection.''^ Such is my mode of rcason- ^ Either have taken cold) — Ver. 36. Westerhovius observes that this passage seems to be taken from one in the Miles Gloriosus of Phuitus, 1. 7'2l, et scq.: "Troth, if I had had them, enough anxiety should I have had from my children ; I should have been cvorlastin^^ly toruientcd in mind: but if perchance one had had a fever, I tliiuk 1 should have tiled. Or if one in lupior liad tumbled anywhere from his horse, I bhould have been afraid that he had broken his legs or neck on that occasion." It may be remarked that there is a great resemblance between the characters of Micio here and Pcriplecomcnus in the Miles (Jioriosu* So. 1 L. THK BROTIIKTIS. 203 i'ul;; !iiul thus ilo I |H'i*su;iiU> Tuysi-lf. He, wIki, ooinpcllt'il liy liai-sh tn-atinoiit, does his ihity. so h)iii; ius lie thinks it will ho known, is on his fximnl : if ho hojios tliat it will bo conct'iiled, lie air.iin roturns to his natunil bojitN^lIo whom you have socured by kiudnoss, acts lioni inclination ; he is anxious to return like for like ; present and absent, he will be tlie sjime. This is the duty of a parent, to accus- tom a sou to do what is right rather of his own clioico, than through fear of another. In this the fatlier ditlei-s from the master: ho who cannot do tliis, let him confess that he does not know how to govern children. But is not this the very man of whom I was si)eaking? Surely it is he. I don't know why it is I see him out of spirits; I suppose lie'll now bo scolding as usual. Demea, I am glad to see you well.' Scene II. Huter Demea. Dem. Oh, — opportunely met ; you are the very man I was looking for.' Mic. Why are you out of spirits? Dem. Do you ask me, when we have such a son as ^schinus,' why I'm out of tpirits? Mic. {asiilc.) Diil I not say it would be so? {To Demea.) What has he been doing ? Dem. What has he been doing ? He, who is ashamed of nothing, and feai-s no one, nor thinks that any law can control him. But I pass by what has been previously done : what a thing he has just perj)eti*at^ed ! ^lic. Why, what is it? Dem. He has broken open a^door,* and forced his way ' To see you well) — Ver. 81. Cooke remarks, that though there are Bcveral fine passages in tliis speech, and good observations on human life, yet it is too long a solilocfuy. - / was looking for) — Ver. 81. Donatus observes that the Poet has in this place improved upon ^Itnandcr, in representing Dcnica as more ready to wrangle with his brother than to return his compliments. ' Such a son as ^Eschinus) — Ver. 82. The pa.ss;ige pretty clearly means by " ubi nobis /Esehinus sit," "when I've got such a son as ..tlocLinu.s." Madame Dacier, however, would translate it: " A.-k nie — you, in whose hou.se Ji.schinus is!" thus accusing him of harbouring .£schinus; a verj- forced construction, however. ^ Broken open a doorj — Ver. 6S. The works of Ovid and Plautua 204 ADELPHi ; Act L into another person's bouse, beaten to death the master himself, and all the household, and carried off a wench whom he had a fancy for. AH people are exclaiming that it was a most disgraceful proceeding. How many, Micio, told me of this as I was coming here? It is in every body's mouth. In fine, if an example must be cited, does he not see his brother giving his attention to business, and living fi-ugally and soberly in the country? No action of his is like this. When I say tliis to him, INIicio, I say it to you. You allow him to be corrupted Mic. Never is there anything more unreasonable than a man who wants experience, who thinks nothing light except what he himself has done. Deji. What is the meaning of that ? Mic. Because, Demea, you misjudge these matters. It is no heinous crime, believe me, for a young man to intrigue or to drink; it is not; nor yet for him to break open a door. If neither I nor you did so, it was poverty that did not allow us to do so. Do you now claim that as a merit to yourself, which you then did from necessity ? That is un- fair; for if weSAad had the means to do so, we should have done the same, -j^nd, if you were a man, you would now suffer that other son of yours to act thus now, while his age will excuse it, rather than, when he has got you, after long wishing it, out of the way, he should still do so, at a future _day, and at an age more unsuited. ~2)em. O Jupiter! You, sir, are driving me to distraction. Is it not a heinous thing for a young man to do these things ? Mic. Oh! do listen to me, and do not everlastingly din me upon this subject. You gave me your son to adopt ; he became mine ; if he offends in anything, Demea, he offends against me : in that case I shall bear the greater part of the inconvenience. Does he foast,^ does he drink, does he smell show that it was no uncommon thing for riotous young men to break open doors; Ovid even suggests to the lover the expediency of getting into the house througii the windows. ' Does he /east) - Vcr. 117. Colman has the following observation here : " The mild character of Micio is contrasted by Cicero to that of a furious, savage, severe father, as drawn by the famous Comic Poet, Csecilius. Both writers arc quoted in the Orution for Caslius, in th« S'-. n. Tin- BROTHERS. 205 of porfumos,' — it is at my cost. Dooa ho intricnie, Tnnnoy slmll be Ibuiitl by me, so lonjjj lus it suits me ; wlioii it shall be no lon/frr coiirniifiif, probably he'll be shut out of doore.* ]Ias he broken open a door — it shall be i"e]ihue/ to this ? If it pleases you, lience- forth — let him spend, squander, and desti-oy ; it's nothing to me. If / saji one word after this Mic. A!::ain angiy, Demea ? / Dem. AVon't you believe me ?^ Do I demand him back Y whom I have entrusted ? I aiu, concerned for him; I am' not a stranger in blood ; if I do interpose well, well, I have done. You desire me to concern myself for one of composition of which it is plain that the orator kept his eye pretty i-losely on our Poet. The passages from CiKciiius contain all that vehemence and severity which, as Horace tells us, was accounted the common cliaracter of the style of that author." • Smell of perfumes I — Ver. 117. For an account of the " ungucnta." or perfumes in use among the ancients, see the Notes to Bohn'g Trans- lation of i'lautus. « Will be shut out of doors)— Ycr. \\9. No doubt by his mistress, whin Bhe has drained him of his money, and not by .Micio himself, as Colmau says he was oooe led to imaj^iue. 206 ADELPHi; Act IL them, — I do concern myself; and I give thanks to the Gods, he is just as I wonld have him ; that fellow of yours will find it out at a future day : I don't wish to say anything more harsh against him. {Exit. ScE>rE III. Micio alone. Mic. These things are* not nothing at all, nor yet all just as he says ; still they do give me some uneasiness ; but I was un^villing to show him that I took them amiss, for he is such a man ; when I would pacify him, 1 steadily oppose and resist him ;'''^(ma in spite of it he hardly puts up with it like other men j/Cu^ if I were to inflame, or even to humour his anger, I should certainly be as mad as himself. And yet ^sehinus has done me some injustice in this affiiir. What courtesan has he not inti'igued with ? Or to which of them has he not made some present ? At last, he recently told me that he wished to take a wife ;' I suppose he was just then tired of them all. I was in hopes that tlie warmth of youth had now subsided ; I was delighted. But look now, he is at it again ; however. I am determined to know it, whatever it is, and to go meet the fellow, if he is at the Forum, {£xit. ACT THE SECOND. Scene I. Enter yEscniNUS and Parmeno icith the Music Girt.. followed by Sannio and a crowd of people. San. I beseech you, fellow citizens, do give aid to a miserable and innocent man ; do assist the distressed. ' These thiTtfjs are) — Vcr. 141. Donatus observes here, that Terence ecems inclined to favour the part of mild fathers. He represents Jlicio as apjialled at his adopted son's irregularities, lest if he siiouUl appear wholly unmoved, he should seem to be corruptinrj him, rather tlian to be tteatini;; him with only a proper dcLrree of indui!:jence. - Wished to take n wZ/i") — Ver. 151. Donatus remarks here, that the art of Terence in prepMriuir his incidents is wonderful. He contrives Chat even i^'uorant persiuus sliall open the plot, a;$ iu the present instanoe, Sc. I. Tin: nuoTHKiis. 2,">7 ^Escii. {to the Girl.) Y>c iiiiiot, ami now then stand hero Just wlure you niv. \sh\ t" all. iijSCH. Though he is a villain, hell not risk, to-ilay, getting a second beating. Sax. Uear me, .^sohinus, that you may not say that you were in ignorance of my calling; I am a Procuirr.' ^-EscH. I know it. Sax. Autl of as high a character as any one ever was. When you shall be exiusing youi-self by-and-by, how tliat you wish this injury had not been done me, I shall not value it this {snapping his Jintfcrs). Depenil upon it, I'll prosecute my rights ; and you shall never jiay with words for the evil that you have done me in deed. I know those icai/s o{ yours: •' I wish it hadn't happened ; I'll take my oath that you did not deserve this injustice;" while I myself have been treated in a disgi-aceful manner. ^SCH. {(o Pak.me:xo.) Go fir.st with all despatch and open the door. (Parmeno opens the door.) S.\x. But you will avail nothing by this. .^iscu. {To the Girl.) Now then, step iru S.vx. {coming between.) But I'll not let her. .^5^CH. Step this way, Parmeno ; you are gone too fur that way ; here {pointing), stand close by him ; there, that's what I want. "Now then, take care you don't move your eyes in any direction from mine, that there may be no delay if I give you the sign, to youi- list being instantly planted in his jaws. S.A.X. rd have him then try thatj. ^SCH. {to Parmexo.) Isow then, observe me. Par. {to Saxxio.) Let go the woman. {Strikes him.) Sax. Oh ! scandalous deed ! where we understand hat iE.echinus has mentioned to Micio his inten- tion of taking a wife, though he has not entered into particulars. This naturally leads us to the ensuing parts of the Pla}', without forestalling any of the circumstances. ' lam n Procurer) —Ver.lQl. He says this aloud, and with emphasis, relying upon the laws which were cnactcil at Athens in liivour of the '■ lenoncs," whose occupation brought great profits to the state, from their extensive trading in slaves. It was forbidden to maltreat them, uader p".iu of bcinj ilisiulicritcJ. 208 ADELPHi; Aot TT. j3^sch. He shall repeat it, if you don't take care. (Par- UEXO strilces liim af/aiii.) San. Oh shocking! -i3?]scH. (to Parjiexo.) I didn't give the sign ; but still make your mistakes on that side in preference. Now then, go. (Parmexo r/oes tcifh the Music Girl info Micio's house.) San. What is the meaning of this? Have you the sway here, ^scliinus? ■ ^scH. If J had it, vou should be exalted for your deserts. Ban. \Vhat business have you with me? ^SCH. None. San. How then, do you know who I am? ^SCH. I don't want to. San. Have I touched anything of yours? -^SCH. If you had touched it, you'd have got a dinibbing. San. What greater right then have you to take my pro- pert j/, for which I paid «??/ money ? Answer me that. .^SCH. It were better for you not to be making a disturb- ance here before the house ; for if you persist in being imper- tinent, you shall be dragged in at once, and there you shall be lashed to death ■wdth whips. San. a free man, with whips? .^scn. So it shall be. San. Oh, you shameless fellow ! Is this the place where they say there is equal liberty for all? j3iscu. If you have now raved enough, Procux-er, now then listen, if you please. San. Why, is it I that have been raving, or you against me? -5^SCH. Leave alone all that, and come to the point. San. What point? Where am I to come to? .^scil. Are you willing now that I should say something that concerns you? San. With all my heart, only so it be something that's fair. ^SCH. Very fine ! a Procui-er wishing me not to saj what's unfair. San. I am a Procurer,^ I confess it — the common bane of youth — a perjurer, a. public nuisance; still, no injury ha? befallen you from me. ' lama Procurer) — Vcr. ISS. Wcstcrhovius supposes this part to be a traublatiou Irom the works of DipLilus. >' iL Tin: imoTiir-is. 209 /l-'scll. Why. f:iith, that remains to come Sax. Pray, vEscliinus, do come back to the point at wliic-'a * on set out. ^'J^CH. You houtjht her for twenty mmaj ; and may your bai'train never thrive! That sum shall be ff'wcri for her. 8.V.N. What if I don't choose to sell her to you? Will yon compel me? yllscii. r>y no means. Sax. I was afmiil you would. ^•Escil. Neither do I think that a woman can be sold who is free ; for I claim her by action of freedom.* Now consider which you choose; take the money, or prepare yourself for the action. Think of it, Troourcr, till I return.'' {Hi gucs into the houae o/"Micio.) SCEXE IL Saxxio, alone. Rax. {to himself.) O supreme Jupiter! I do T)y no means wonder that men run mad through ill usage. He has dragged me out of my house, beaten me, taken my propertif away aited in this Scene in the chanicter of iE.'. I believe that to be the better y^/rt/j — but 1 was nevorN^ so cunning as not, whenever I was able to get it, to prel'ur getting re;idy money. Syu. Come, eome, I know your spirit ; as if twenty minaj wore anything at all to you in comparison to obliging liim ; besides, they Siiy that you ai"e setting out for Cyprus S.\X. {asiih'.) Ilah ! Syk. That you have been buying up many things to take tliither; a/nl that the vessel is hired. This I know, your mind is in suspense ; however, when you return thence, I Lojie you'll settle the matter. Sax. Not a foot do I stir : Heavens ! I'm undone ! (J.v/i this reckvutd) — Yer. ', 36. ".lamne enumcrasti id quod ad te rediturum putcsT" Coluian renders this, "Well, have you calculated what's your due?" referring to the value of the .Music- girl that has hceu taken away from him ; and thinks that the following conversation between Sannio and Syrus supports that construction, iladame Dacier pnt.s another sense on the words, and understands theiu tb uliudiug lo ijuiiuiob calculation of his expected profits at C\ i.rua. V2 \ 212 ADELPHi; Act IT. San. Is this Honorable of him ? Ought ^^schinus to at- tempt this? Ouyht he to endeavour to take her away from me by downright violence? Syr. {aside.) He gives ground. (To Saksio.) I have this one jrroposal to maJce; see if you fully approve of it. Kather than you should run the risk, Sannio, of getting or losing the wh^le, halve it. He will manage to scrape together ten minae^ frdm some quarter or other. San. Ah me N unfortunate wretch, I am now in danger of even losing part of the principal. Has he no shame? He has loosened all my teeth ; my head, too, is full of bumps with his cuffs; and would he defraud me as well? I sh.dl go nowhere. Syr. Just as you please. Have you anything more to say before I go? San. Why yes, Syrus, i' faith, I have this to request. Whatever the matters that are past, rather than go to law, let what is my own be returned me ; at let\st, Syi-us, the sum she cost me. I know that you have not hitherto made trial of my friendship ; you will have no occasion to say that I am unmindful or ungrateful. S\R. I'll do the best I can. But I see Ctesipho; he's in high spirits about his mistress. San. What about what I was asking you ? Syr. Stay a little. Scene 1Y. Enter Ctesipho, a^^e other side of the stage. Ctes. From any man, when you stand in need of it, you are glad to receive a service; but of a ti-uth it is doubly accept- able, if he docs y«\i a kindness who ought to do so. O brother, brother, he jv can I .sufficiently commend you ? This I am quite sure of I can never speak of you in such high terms but that ycur deserts will surpass it. For I am of opinion that I poi sess this one thing in especial beyond all > Scrape together en mirice) — Ver. 242. Doiiatus remarks, that Syrus knows very well that /Kschinus is ready to p.iy the whole, but oilers Sannio half, that he may be glad to take the bare priucipal, aad think himsclt well uli' into the bar;;aiu. Sc. V. THE nrioTUF.Ra £i3 olliors, a brother tliiin whom no iiulividual is nioro highly t'Uilt>wcd with tlio highest qualities. Syr. O Ctesipho ! Ctes. O Syrus, where is ^Eschinus? Sti;. Why, look — he's at home, waiting for yoii. Crtis. {sfitdki/K/ joi/oiiiili/.) lla! Syr. What's the mutter ? Ctes. What's the matter? 'Tis through him, Syrus, that I am now alive — generous civaturo I Has he not deemeil everything of secondary importance to himself in comparison with my haj)piness ? The reproach, the discivdit, my own jimour and impnidence, he has taken upon himself There c;m be nothing beyond tliis ; but what means that noise at the door ? Stb. Stay, stay; 'tis .J^chinus himself coming out. SCEXE V. Fnfer MscRisvs, from the house ofMicio. ^SCH. Where is that villain ? Sax. (aside.) He's looking for me.* Is he bringing any- thing icith hi/ii ? Confusion ! I don't see anything. yE.scn. {to Cte.>;ipuo.) Ha! well met; you are the very man I was looking for. How goes it, Ctesipho ? All is safe \ away then with your melancholy. CteS^ B^ my troth, I certainly will away ■with it, when I hav^-^ljA^a "brother as you. O my dear ^schinus ! O my brotherT^^^AJ^ ! I am unwilling to praise you any more to your face, le.st you should think l^do so rather for flattery than tli rouijh __grutitude. ^*T^RnTr"tjroto. you simpleton ! as though we didn't by this time understand each other, Ctesipho. This grieves me, that wf knew of it almost too late, and that the matter had come to such a pass, that if all mankind had wished they could not possibly have assisted you. Ctes. I felt ashamed. ' Ht'ti lo'ihinafor me) — Ver. 265. Donatns remarks upon the readi- ness with which Sannio takes the appellation of " Bacrilcijus. " aa kdaplcJ to no other person thau him^lf. 21^ ADELPHi; Act II., Sc. Y. ^SCH. Pooh! that is folly, not shame; about such a trifliug matter to he almost y?v/»y the country!' 'Tis shocking to be mentioned ; 1 pray the Gods may forbid it! Ctes. I did -wrong. ^SCH. {in a lower voice.) What says Sannio to us at last? Syr. He is pacified at last. ^SCH. I'll go to the Forum to pay him off; you, Ctesipho, step in-doors to her. San. (aside to Syrus.) Syrus, do urge the matter. Syr. (to -^scuixus.) Let us be off, for he is in haste for Cyprus.' / S.:V:n. Not particularly so; although still, I'm stopping here [ctoing nothing at all. Syr. It shall be paid, don't fear. / San. But he is to pay it all. ' Syr. He shall pay it all; only hold your tongaie and follow us this way. San. I'll follow. Ctes. {as Syrus is goinfj!) Hai-kye, harkye. Syi-us. Syr. {turning bacJc.) Well now, what is it ? Ctes. {aside.) Pray do discharge that most abominable fellow as soon as possible ; for fear, in case he should become more angiy, by some means or other this matter should reach my father, and then I should be ruined for ever. Syr. That shall not happen, be of good heart ; mean- while enjoy yourself in-doors with hei", and order the couches' to be spread for us, and the other things to be got I'eady. As soon as this business is settled, I shall come home with the provisions. Ctes. Pray do so. Since this has turned out so well, let us ' Flying the country) — Ycr. 275. Donatns tells u?, that in Mcnander the j'ounir man was on the point of killing himself. Terence has here softened it into leavinc; the country. Colman remarks : '" We know that the circumstance of carrying oft" the Music-girl was horrowed from Diphilus; yet it is plain from Donatns that there was also an intrigue hy Ctesipho in tlie Play of Menander ; which gives another proof of the manner in which Terence used the Greek Comedies." 2 He is in haste for Cyprus) — Ver. 278. Donatns remarks that this is a piece of malice on the part of Syrus, for the purpose of teazing Sannio. 3 Order the couches)— Ycr. 2S5. Those used for the purpose of reclining oa at the entertainment. Act. III., Si'. IT. TirE nROTici TvS. 215 in;iko a chocrlul d;iy of it. (Cti-SHMIO i/ttra into thr hoiisf t>f Mk'IO ; and exeunt /RsCHlNUS ami Sykus, followed bif San MO.) \' '.r\j ^ ACT THE THIRD. Scene I. Enter Sostr.vt.v and C.vnth.vi!.\. /}-ow the houae of the former. Sos. Prithee, my dear nurse, how is it like to e-^d ? Can. Like to end, do you ask ? I' troth, right well, I trust / Sos. Her pains are just l)e'. I' faith, he'll certainly be here just now, for he never lets a day p;vss without visiting us. Sos. He IS my sole comfort in my afflictions. Cax. Things could not have hapi)ened, mistress, more for the advantage of your daughter than they have, seeing that \Tolcnce was offered her; so far as he is concerned, it is ino&t lucky, — such a person, of such disjtosition and feelings, a member of so respectable a family ., Sos. It is indeed as you .say ; I entreat the Gods that ho may be preserved to us. {They stafid apart, on seeing Geta.) Scene II. Enter Geta, on the other side of the starje. Geta {to himself) Now such is our condi/ion, that if idl wore to combine all their counsels, and to seek a remeein in chat, so that they might hti liished when they came home for staying out so long." S •. IT. TiiK niioriiFits. 2»7 c;eta. Alas! alas I Sos. My dear Gota, ^\lly in such hasto? Do take bn-ath. GtrrA. Quito (pauses.) Sos. Wiiy. what moans this "quite"? GhTTA. Unilono — It's all ovor with us. Sos. Sjiy. thon, I iutroat yuu, what is thu mutter. Gcta. Now Sos. What '-now," Gota? Geta. ^Esihinus Sos. What aliout him? Geta. Has abaiulonod our family. Sos. Thou I am umlono ! ^\'hy so? Geta. He has attaohod himsolf to another woman. Sos. Woe inito wretched mo! Geta. And ho makes no secret of it; he himself has carried her oti' o|)only fn^m a procurer. Sos. Are you quite sure of this? Geta. Quite sure; I saw it myself, Sostrata, with these s;imo eyes. Sos. Ah wretched me ! What is one now to believe, or whom believe? Our own ^schinus, the vrri/ life of us all, in whom all our hopes and comforts were centered ! Who used to swear he could never live a single day without her! ^\'ho used to say, that he would place the infant on his father's knees,' and thus intreat that he might be allowed to make her his wife! Geta. Dear mistress, forbear weeping, and rather consider what must be done for the future In this matter. Shall we submit to it, or .shall we tell it to^jay pex'son? C.KS. Pooh, pooh I ai-e you in your senses, my qood man ? Does this seem to you a business to be made known to any one? Get.\. I, indeed, have no wish for it. In the finst place, thon, that his feelings are estranged from us, the thing itself •loclares. Now, if we make this known, he'll deny it, I'm ^laite sure; your reputation and your daughter's character will tfini be in danger. On the other hand, if he wore fully to Confess it, as he is in love with another woman, it would not ' Onhisjatlirr'skneejt) — Vcr. 3.3.3. It wa.s a prevalent cii.stom with tho Greeks to place the uewly boru child upon the knee of its grandfaCLe." £1 S ADELPHi ; Act in. Ijf to her advantage to be given to him. Therefore, uneler either circumstance^ there is need of silence. Sos Oh ! by no means in the world ! I'll not do it. Geta What is it you say ? Sos. I'll make it known. Geta. Ha, my dear Sostrata, take care what you do ! Sos. The matter cannot possibly be in a worse position than it is at present. In the fii'st place, she has no portion ; then, besides, that which was as good as a poi'tion, her honor, is lost : she cannot be given in marriage as a virgin. This resource is left; if he should deny it, -I have a ring which he lost as evidence of the truth. In fine, Geta, as I am fully conscious that no blame attaches to me, and that neither interest nor any consideration unworthy of her or of myself has had a share in this matter, I will make trial Geta. What am I to say to this? I agree, as you speak for the best. Sos. You be off as fast as possible, and relate all the matter just as it has happened to her kinsman Hegio; for he was the best friend of our lamented Simulus, and has shown esi>ecial regard for us. Geta [aside.) Aye, faith, because nobody else takes any notice of ns. Sos. Do you, my dear Canthara, run with all haste, and fetch the midwife, so that, when she is wanted, we may not have to wait for her. (Sostrata t/oes info the house, and exit Geta and Cantuaua.) Scene IH. Enter Demea. Dem. {to him.ho was with -^si-hinus at the carrying off of this f/irl. This sorrow still remains for unhappy me, should yl^schinuf! he able to seduce him, even him, who promises so f\iir, to a course of debaucheiy. Where am I to inquire for him? I doubt he has been carried oirto some bad house, that proflisiite has persuaded him, I'm quite sure. But look — I see Sy^is coming this trai/, I shall now know from him where he i;s. But, i' faith, he is one of the gaugj if he perceives that I So. IV. THE DROTIIKUS. 219 am loukinsj for him, the rascal will uovlt tell mo. 1 11 not lot him kuow what I want. Scene IV. Enter SvRUS, at the other side of the stnje. Syr. (to hiiiiself.) We just now toUl the olil f:;ontloman tho whole affair just as it ha])peued; I never did sci! auy one more delii^hted. Dkm. {(ipart.) Jupiter! the folly of the man! Syr. {coiitiiiiiiiif/) He commended his son. To me, who put them upon this project, he gave thanks Dkm. {n/Hirf.) I s-hall burst asunder. Syr. {confiniti/i(j.) lie told down the money instantly, and gave me half a mina besides to spend. That was laid out quite to my liking. Dem. (apart.) Very fine — if you would wish a thing to be nicely managed, entrust it to this ftlloiv. Syr. (overhearing him.) Ha, Demea ! I didn't see you ; how goes it ? De.m. How should it go? I cannot enough wonder at your mode of living here. Syr. Why, really silly enough, and, to speak without di.s- guise, altof/eiher absurd. (Citll/i at the door of Micio's hoitsr ) Dromo, clean the rest of the fish ; let the largest conger-eel play a little in the water ; when I come back it shall be i)oned;' not before. Dem. Is profligacy like this Syr. As for myself, it isn't to my\aste, andl often exclaim affainst it. (Calls at the door.) Ste^anio, take care that the salt fiah is well soaked. Dem. Ye Gods, by our trust in you! is he doing this f -r any purpose of his own, or does he think it creditable to niin hi.^ son? Wretch that I am! methiuksl already see the day when yEichiniis will be runnmg away for want, to sen'o .somewhere or other as a soldier.- ' It shall be bon'd) — Ver. 378. The operation of boning concrer eel.s is often mentioned in I'iaiitus, from wiiom we learn that tlicv wero best wlien eaten in that stxite, and cold. • Strve norm where or oUnr a-i a soldier) — Ver. 385. See a simil.ir pas^hed enough, that is vcn/ well done; remember and do .ly, hv has heard tliis ahout tlie Musie-^^irl ; that civi-s him <.onot'ru, ///o//y// a .straiimr; this f.ithcr of his thiuks notliiui; of it. Ah mo! I wish ho were somewhere close at hand to overhear this. Hecj. Uuless they do as they ought to do, they shall not cme off so easily. (lETA. All our ho|ics, He2;io, are centered in you ; you we have for otir only J? inn f ; you are our protector, our father. Tlie old man, Simiiliui, when dying recommended us to you; ii you fors;ike us, we are undone. Heg. Beware how you mention that; I neither will do it, nor do I think that, with duo regard to the ties of rekition- s^hip, I could. 1>EM {apart.) I'll accost him. {Approaches Hegio.) Hegio, 1 t>id you welcome right heartily. Heg. {start i III/.) Oh ! you ai"o the very man I was looking f >r. Greetings to you, Domea. Dem. Why, what's the matter? Heg. Your eldest son -^schinus, whom you gave to your 1 rot her to adopt, has been acting the part of neither an honest man nor a gentleman. De.m. What has he been doing? II EC. You knew my friend and year's-mate, Simulus? Dk.m. Why not ? Heg. He has debauched liis daughter, a virgin. De.m. Hah! Heg. Stay, Demea. Yoii have not yet heard the worst. De.m. Is there anything still worse? Heg. Worse, by far : for this indeed might in some nuasure have been borne with. The hour of night promj^ted li:m ; passion, wine, young blood; 'tis human nature. When lie was sensible of what he had done, he came voluntarily t'> the girl's mother, weeping, praying, entraiting, pledging liis honor, vowing that he would take her home.' T/ic ajjair was pardoned, hushed up, his word taken. The girl from t'lat intercourse became pregnant : this is the tenth mouth. He, worthy fellow, has provided himself, if it please tha ' Would take her home) — Vcr. 473. As his wife. 224 ADELPHi : Act III. Gods, with a Music-girl to live with ; the other he haa cast off. Dem. Do you say this for certain ? Heg. The mother of the yomig woman is among us/ the young woman too; the fact speaks for itself; this Geta^ besides, according to the common run of servants, not a bad one or of idle habits; he supports them; alone, maintains the whole family; take him, bind him,'^ examine him upon the matter. Geta. Aye, faith, put me to the torture, Demea, if such is not the fact: besides, he will not deny it. Confront me with bim. Dem. (aside.) I am ashamed; and what to do, or how to answer him, I don't know. Pam. {cri/inf/ out irilhin the house of Sostrata.) Ah me! I am racked with pains ! Juno Lucina,' luring aid, save me, I beseech thee ! Heg. Hold ; is she in labour, pray ? Geta. No doubt of it, Hegio. Heg. Ah! she is now imploring your protection, Demea; let her obtain from you spontaneously what the power nf the law compels you to give. I do entreat the Gods that what befits you may at once be done. But if your senti- ments are otherwise, Demea, I will defend both them and him who is dead to the utmost of my power. He was my kinsman :* we were brought uj) together from children, we were companions in the wars and at home, together we ex- perienced the hardships of poverty. I will therefore exert my- self, strive, use all methods, in tine lay down my life, rather than forsake these women. What answer do you give me ? Dem. I'll go find my brother, Hegio : the advice he gives me upon this matter I'll follow.' ' Is among us) — Ver. 479. " In medio," " is alive," or " in the midst of us." '^ Take him, bind Jiim) — Ver. 482. In allusion to the method of examining: slaves, by bindinf;; and toriuring tlicm. •* Juno Liicina)—^ or. 487. So in the Andria, 1. 473, where Gly- cerium is overtaken with the pains of labour, she calls upon Juno Lucina. ■• Jfe icas ivy kinsDian) — Ver. 494. In the Play of Menander, Hegio was the brother of Sostrata. ■" Upon this matter J'll/oHow) — Ver. 500. "Is, quod mihi do hac re dederat consilium, id scquar." Colman haa the lollowiug Note ou Sc. VII. THE BROTHERS. V.25 Heo. But, Demca, tiiko yi)U care aiul iifltvt upnn tlii.s: the more easy you are in your circuuistances, tlie more juiwerful. wealthy, aflluent, and noble you are, so much the nioiv ouixht you with etiuaniiiiity to ohservc ffic dicfafrs of justice, ii" you would have yourselves esteemed aa men of prohity. Dkm. Go back noir;^ everything shall be done that is proper to lie ilone. IIeg. It becomes you to act tJiiis. Geta, shew me in to Sostnita. {Fhllou's Geta into Sostkata's fioiiae.) Deji. {to hinist'If.) Not without warning on my part have these things happened: I only wish it may end here; but this immoderate indidgence will undoubtedly lead to some great misfortune. I'll go tind my brother, and vent these feelings upon him. {Exit. Scene VII. Enter IlEGic/rom Sosthata's house, and spealcing to her icithin. Heg. Be of good heart,' Sostrata, and take care and console her as far as you can. I'll go find Micio, if he is at the Forum, and acquaint him with the whole circumstances in their order; if so it is that he will do his duty hi/ }/ou, let him ilo so; but if his sentiments are othei'^vise about this matter, Kt him give me his answer, that I may know at once what I am to do. {Exit. this passage: " Madame Dacicr rejects thra line, because it is also to bo found in the Phormio. But it is no uncommon thing with our aui^iorto use the same expression or verse tor diflerent places, especially on (amiliar occasions. There is no impropriety in it here, and the turegoinir hemistich is rather lame without it. The propriety of con- sulting Micio, or Demea's present ill-humour with him, are of no cou- scquence. The old man is surprised at Hcgio's story, does not know what to do or say, and means to evade giving a positive answer, by saying that he would consult his brother." ' Go back 7iow) — Ver. 506. " Redite." Demea most probably uses this word, because Hcgio has come back to him to repeat the hust words for the sake of greater emphasis, ^ Be of good heart) — Ver. 512. Colman has the following Note here : " Donatus ttl!« us, tliat in some old copies this whol-T Scene w."»s xaating. Guyetus Uioretor* entireiy rejects it. I have not vcnlureJ 223 ADELPni ; A^t IV ACT THE FOURTIL Scene I. Enter Ctesipho and Syrus^'oot the home of Micio. Ctes. ]My father gone into the country, say you ? Syr. {with a careless air.) Some time since. Ctes. Do tell me, I beseech you. Syr. He is at the farm at this very moment,^ I warrant — hard at some work or other. Ctes. I I'eally wish, provided it be done with no prejudice to his health, I wish that he may so effectually tire himself, that, for the next three days together, he may be unable to arise from his bed. Syr. So be it, and anything still better than that,* if j)Ossible. Ctes. Just so ; for I do mo.st confoundedly wish to pas? this whole day in meny-making as I have be,gun it ; and for no reason do I detest that i\irm so heai-tily as for its being so near town. If it were at a greater distance, night would overtake him there before he could return hither again. Now, when he doesn't hnd me there, he'll come running back here, I'm quite sure ; he'll be asking me where I have been, that I have not seen him all this day : what am 1 to say ? Syr. Does nothing suggest itself to your mind ? Ctes. Nothing whatever. Syr. So much the worse' — have you no client, friend, or guest ? to take that liberty; ))ut must confess that it appears to mc, if not suppo- sititious, at least cold and superfluous, and the substance of it had better been supposed to have passed between Hegio and Sostrata witliin." ' At this nrij moment) — Ver. 519. It is very doubtful whether the words "cum maxime" mean to signify exactly " at this moment," or are intended to signily the intensity with which Demea is labouring. - A nyth ing still better than that) — Ver. ;V22. Lenuiire suggests that by these words Syrus intends to imply that he should not care if Demea were never to arise Irom his bed, but were to die there. Ctesipho, only taking him heartily to second his own wishes for the old man's absence, answers alii rmativcly " ita," " by all means," "exactly so." ^ .So mwk the worse) — Ver. 5'29. Schmieder observes that " tauto So. I. THE r.ROTIlF.US. 227 Cti%s. I liiivo ; wliat then ? Syk. Ytni liavo beoii enjjased with them. Crvs. Wht'ii I have not been engiigoil ? Tliat can never. lo. Svi{ It may. Ctks. Durin;:^ tlie daytime ; l)Ut if I pass tlu> niL,'Iit here, what excuse can I make, Synis ? Svit Dear me, liow mueh I do wisli it was tlio custom for (>ne to he enixiiiied witli friends at ni^lit as well ! But you he ea.--iu.-<, in his Commentary on the Ninth Eclogue of Virgil, says that the saying arose from the common belief that the person whom a Wolf sets his eyes upon is deprived of hi^ voice, and thence came to be applied to a person who, coming upon others in the act of talking about him, necessarily put a stop to their conversation. Cooke says, in reference to this passage, "This certainly alludes to a Fable of /Ksop's, of the Wolf, the Fo\. and the Ape : which is translated by Pi aidrus. and is the tenth of his First Book." It is much more certain that Cooke is mistaken here, and that the fable of the arbitration of the Ape between the Wolf and the Fox ha.s nothing to do with this passage. If it alludes to any fable (which from the expression itself is not at all unlikely, it is more likely to be that where the Nurse threatens that the wolf shall take the naughty Child, on which he makes liis appearance, but is disappointed in his expectations, or else that of the Shepherd. l>oy and the Wolf. See the Stichua of Plautus, 1. 57, where the "^ima expressioa occurs. Q 2 228 ADELPHi; Act IV Ctes. If he makes any enquiries, you have seen me no- where , do you ht-ar ? Syr. Can you not be quiet? {Theij retreat to the door of Micio's house, ana Ctesipho stands in the doorway.) SCEXE II. Enter Demea, on the other side of the stage. Dem. {to himself.) I certainly am an unfortunate man. In tlie fii'st place, I can find my brother nowhere; and then. in the next place, while looking for him, I met a day- labourer^ from the farm; he says that my son is not in the country, and what to do I know not Ctes (apart.) Syrus! Syr (apart.) What's the matter ? Ctes. (apart.) Is he looking for me r Syr. (apart.) Yes Ctes. (apart.) Undone! Syr. (apart.) Nay^ do be of good heart. Dem. (to himself) Plague on it! what ill luck is this? I cannot really account for it, unless I suj)pose myself only i born for the purpose of enduring misery. I am the fii-st to feel our misfortunes; the first to know of them all; then the first to carry the news ; I am the only one, if anything does go wrong, to take it to heai-t. Syr. (apart ) I'm amused at him ; he says that he is the first to know of everything, ichile he is the only one ignorant of eveiy thing. De.m. (to himself.) I've now come back; and I'll go see whether perchance my brother has yet returned. Ctes. (apart.) Syrus, pray do take cai-e that he doesn't suddenly rush in ujion us here. Syk. (apart.) Now will you hold your tongue? I'll take care. Ctes. (apart.) Never this day will I depend on yoin management for that, upon my faith, for I'll shut mysell uji ' Met a day-labourer') — Vcr. 542. Donatus remarks that the Poe( artfully contrives to detain Demea in town, his prosonoc beiu;.c neecssurj iij ile latter part of tlic Plav >('. 11. TUK nuoTiir.us. 22j with liiT in some cupboanl' — that's tht> safest, {(iorx into tllf llOUSt' ) Syii. {(iporf.) Do so, still I'll got ml <>t"liini. Dkm. (ivr/Hy Sykl's.) But see ' there's that rascal, Syrus. SviL {tiloinl, prctfiulinff not to see Demea.) lleally, uj»on iiiv faith, no person can stay lu-re, if this is to bo the ease ! For my part, I should like to know how many masters 1 have - wliat a eui"sed comlitiou this is! Dem. What's he whining about ^ What does ho mean y How s;iy you. good sir, is my brother at home y Syr. What the plague do you talk to me about, "good sir"y I'm quite disti-aeted! Dem. What's the matter with you ? Syii. Do you ask the question ? Ctesipho has been beating me. poor wretch, and that ^lusic-girl, almost to death. Dem. I la! what is it you tell mer* Syi{. Ay, see how he has cut my lij). {Pretends to point to if.) De.m. For what reason ? Svi{. He says that she wiis bought by my advice. Dem. Did not you tell me, a short time since, that you had seen him on his way into the country ? Syii. I did: but he afterwanls came back, raving like a mad- man; he spared nobody — ought he not to have "Deen ashamed to beat an old man ? Him whom, only the other day, I used to carry about in my arms when thus high ? {>S/ioicinf/.) De.m. I commend him ; O Ctesipho, you take after your father. Well, I do pronounce you a man. Syr. Commend him ? Assuredly^he mil keep his hands to himself m future, if he's wise. ^ Df.m. 'Tiras (lone with spirit. Syr. Very much .so, to be beating a poor woman, and me, a slave, who didn't dare strike him in return; heyday! very Fjiinted indeed! Dem. He c-uld not Jinve done better: he thought the .■ijinie as I did, that you were the principal in this atl'air. l>ut is my brother within ? ' Wi(h her in some aiphonrd) — Vcr. 553. Donatus ob.scrvcs th.at the yoiinc: ni.in was silly in tliis. for if di.scovered to be there he would be sure to be cauirht. His object, however, for going there would be that he mipht not be discovered. 230 APELPHi ; Act IV. Syr. He is not. Dem. I'm thinking where to look for him. Syr. I know where he is — but I shall not tell you at present. Dem. Ha! what's that you say? Syr. 1 do saji so. Dem. Then I'll break your head for you this instant. Syr. I can't tell the person's name lies gone to, but I know the place where he lives. Dem. Tell me the place then. Syr. Do you know the portico down this way, just by the shamliles? {Pointing in the direction.) Dem. How should I but know it r Syr. Go straight along, right up that street ; when you come there, there is a descent right opposite that goes downwards, go straight down that; afterwards, on this side {extending one hand), there is a chapel : close by it is a narrow lane, where there's also a great wild fig-tree. Dem. I know it. Syr. Go through that Dem. But that lane is not a thoroiighfare. Syr. I'faith, that's true ; dear, dear, would you take me to be in my senses ?^ I made a mistake. Eeturn to the portico; iudeed that will be a much nearer way, and there is less going round about : you know the house of Cratinus, the rich man ? De.m. I know it. Syk Wlien you have passed that, keep straight along that street on the left hand;- ^vhen you come to the Temple of Diana, turn to the right; before you come to the citg gate.^ just by that pond, there is a baker's shop, and opposite to it a joiner's; there he is. ' Tal-e me to be in my senses) — Yer. 580, " Censen hominem me esse'?" literally, "Do you take me to be a human being]" meaning, ' Do you take me to be a person in my common senses V ^ Street on the left hand) — Ver. 583. Theobald, in his edition of Sliakspeare, observes that the direction given by Lancelot in the Jler- chant of Venice seems to be copied from that given here by Syrus : " Turn up on your right haiul at the next turning, but at the next turn- ing of all on your left; marry, at the very next turning of no haiul, but turn down iiulircclly to the Jew's house." ^ Cu7ne to the citi/ i/atc) — Ver. [>Si. From this wc discover that Deuiea is being s^nt fo the vcrj- extremity of the town, as Donatus informs So. III. TlIK nUOTIlKllS. 231 Dkm. Wlmt is lie doin^j thfro? Syh. Ill' has jrivon w>me i-DUchea to be made, with oaken h'Lr>^, lor n>orne oft' from his sight fur ever.'' An unworthy action, hither I Mic. On -what grounds is it so? Who betrothed her:* Who gave her away ? ^^'hen and to whom was she married ? Who was the author of all this ? Why did he connect himself v,ith a woman who belonged to another ? jEscu. Was it to be exjtected that a young woman of her age should sit at home, waiting till a kinsman of hers should come from a distance? This, my father, you ought to have represented, anw. ^-Ksiii Now ? Mic. Now, :u^ soon as possible. ^'Escn. ^lay all the Gods detest me, father, if T do ujt love vou better than even my very eyes ! ISl'ic What! ir//rr than her? -Kscu. Quite as well. !Mic. Very kind of you ! ^I'^cu. Well, where is this ^Milesian ? Mic. Departed, vauished, gone on board ship ; but wliy do you delay r ^^cii. Father, do you rather go and pi*ay to the Gods ; for 1 know, for eertain, that they will rather be piopitious to you,' as being a mueh better man than I am. Mic. I'll go in doors, that what is requisite may be pre- paivd. You do a^j I said, if you ai'e wise. {Goes into his house.) Scene VII. -Echinus aJone. ^^CH. WTiat can be the meaning of this ? Is this being a father, or this being a son ? If he had been a brother or familiar companion, how could he have been more complai- sant ! Is he not worthy to be beloved ? Is he not to be imprinted m my very bosom ? Well then, the more does he impose an obligation on me t>y his kindness, to take due jirecaution not inconsiderately to do anything that he may not wish. But whj do I delay going in-dooi*s this instant, that I may not myself delay my o^\^l nuptials ? {Goes into the house of Micio.) ' Prapitious to you) — Ver. 707. Donatus remarks that there is great tlelioaey in this couipliment of Jilseliiuus to Micio, which, though made in liis presence, docs not hear the semblance of flattery. JIadame Ducicr thinks that Terence here alludes to a line of Ilcsiod, which saya that it is the duty of the aged to pray. Colman suggests that the pa^iaa^c i-> I'oriowcd from some lines of ^Icnandcr still in existence. 238 ADELPHi ; Act IV Scene VIII. Enter Demea. I am quite tired with walking : May the great Jupiter confound you, Syrus, together with your directions ! I have crawled the whole city over ; to the gate, to the pond — where not ? There was no joiner's shop there ; not a soul could say he hv,d seen my brother ; but now I'm determined to alt and wait at his house till he returns. Scene IX. Enter "Micio from his house. Mic. {speakivg to the people icithin.) I'll go and tell them there's no delay on our part. Dem. But see here's the very man : Micio, I have been seeking you this long time. Mic. Why, what's the matter ? Dem. I'm bringing you some new and great enormities of that hopeful youth. Mic. Just look at that ! Dem. Fresh ones, of blackest dye. Mic. There now — at it again, Dem. Ah, Micio! you little know what sort of person he is. Mic. I do. Dem. O simpleton ! you are dreaming that I'm talking about the Music-girl ; this crime is against a virgin and a citizen. Mic. I know it. Dem. So then, you know it, and put up with it ! Mic. Why not put up with it ? Dem. Tell me, pray, don't you exclaim about it ? Don't you go distracted ? Mic. Not I : certainly I had rather* • * Certainly I had rather) — Ver. 730. He pauses after " quidem," jut he means to say that if he had his choice, he would rather it had not beea so Sc. IX. THE IlKOTIIKILS. 2^9 Dem. Thoro has hvcn i\ child Imhti. Mio May tho CJods ho pn)|iitiim3 /« //. Dkm. Tlie i^irl liaa no fortune. Mic. Su I have hoard. Dem. And he — must ho marry lior without ono P Mio. Of course. Dem. What is to he done then ? ^lir. Why, what tlio case itself points out : the young woman must be broui^jht hither. De.m. Jujiiter! must that be the \v;iy (Jtcii/ ^Iic". What can I do else ? Dem. What can you do ? If in reality this causes you no concern, to pretend it were .>urely the duty of a man. Mic. But I have alreaily betrothed tlie young woman to him ; the matter is settle^d : the marriage takes place to-dai/. I have removed all apprehensions. That is rather the dutj* of a man. De.m. But does the affair please you, Micio ? ^Iic. If I were able to alter it, no ; now, as I cannot, I bear it with patience. The life of man is just like playing with dice :' if that which you most want to throw does not tuni up, what turns up by chance you must correct by art. Dem. rare coiTector ! of course it is by your art that twenty mina; have been thrown away for a ]\Iusic-girl ; who. as soon as possible, must be got rid of at any price ; and if not for money, why then for nothing. Mic. Nut at all, and indeed I have no wish to sell her. Dem. What will you do with her^hen ? ^Iic. She shall be at my house. Dem. For heaven's sake, a courtesan ami a matron in the same house ! ' Playinf) *rith dice) — Vcr. 7-f^. The " tcsscraa" of the ancients were fuho.s, or -vh.''t we call "dice;" while the "tali" were iu imitation of the knucklebones of animals, and were marked on four sides only. For some eat." 240 ADELPHi; Act IV., So, X. Mic. Wliy not ? Dem. Do you imagine you are in your senses ? Mic. Really I do tliink so. Dem. So may the Gods })rosper me, T now see your folly ; T believe you are gomg to do so that you may have some- body to practise music with. Mic. Why not? Dem. And the new-made bride to be learning too ? Mic. Of course. Dem. Having hold of the rope,^ you will be dancing with them. Mic. Like enough ; and you too along with us, if there's need. Dem. Ah me ! are you not ashamed of this ? Mic. Demea, do, for once, lay aside this anger of yours, and show yourself as you ought at your son's wedding, cheerful and good-humoured. I'll just step over to them, and return immediately. (Goes into Sostrata's house.) Scene X. Demea alone. Dem. O Jupiter ! here's a life ! here are manners ! here's madness ! A wife to be coming without a fortune ! A music- wench in the house ! A house full of wastefulness ! A young man ruined by extravagance ! An old man in his dotage! — Should Salvation herself '^ desire it, she certamly could not save this family. {Exit. * Hold of the rope) — Yer. 755. "Eestim ductanssaltabis." Donatus and Madame Dacier think that this is only a fijrurative expression for a dance in which all joined hands ; according to some, however, a dance is alluded to where the person who led ofl'dicw a rope or cord after him, which the rest of the company took hold of as they danced ; which was invented in resemblance of the manner in which the wooden horse was dragged by ropes into the city of Troy. 2 Salvation herself] — Ver. 764. See an observation relative to the translation of the word " Salus," iu the Notes t-^ ^'"uitus, vol. i. pages 193, 450. Act v., So. IL THE BKOTUEllS. 2-11 ACT THE FIFTH. ScE^K I, Enter Syrus, druid; and Dkme.v, on the opposite side of the tifin/c. Syr. Upon my faith, my dear little Syrus, you have taken di'licate caa-e of youi'self, and liave done your duty' with oxiiuisite taste ; be oti with you. But since I've had my till of evsrything indoors, I have felt disposed to take a »7i.k. Dzv. {.r.r^t.) -Tust look at that — there's an instance of their ffood training ! SvR. {fo fiiinsr/f.) But see, here comes our old man. {AddrfS'iinq him.) What's the matter? Why out of spirits ? Dem. Oh you rascal ! Syr. Hold now; are you spouting your sage maxims here r Dem. If you were my servant Syr. Why, you would be a rich man, Demea, and improve your estate. De.m. I would take care that you should be an example to all the rest. Syr. For what reason ? What have I done ? Dem. Do you ask me ? in the midst of this confusion, and during the greatest mischief, which is hardly yet set right, you have been getting drunk, you villain, as though things had been going on well. Syr. [aaide.) Really, I wish I hadn't come out. Scene II. Enter Dromo in has t^, from the house of Micio, Dro. Hallo, Syrus ! Ctesipho desires you'll come back. Syh. Get you gone. (Pushes him lack into the house.) • ITare done your EM. I will know him before long. {Going to the door.) Syr. {stopping him.) What ai*e you about ? Whither are you going ? Deii. {sf niggling.) Let me alone. Syr. {holding him.) Don't, I tell you Dem. Won't you keep your hands off, whip-scoundrel ? Or would you like me to knock your brains out this instant ? {Rushes into the house.) Syr. He's gone ! no very pleasant boon-companion, u]ion my faith, particularly to Ctesipho. What am I to do now? Why, even get into some corner till this tempest is lulled, and sleep off this drop of wine. That's my plan. {Goes int/* the house, staggering.) Scene III. Enter Micio,y)-ow? the house of Sostrata. INIic. {to Sostrata, within.) Everything's ready with us, as I told you, Sostrata, when you like. — Who, I wonder, u making my door fly open with such fury ? JEnter Demea in haste, from the house of Micio. Dem. Alas ! what shall I do ? How behave ? In what terms exclaim, or how make my complaint? O heavens! O earth ! O seas of Nejitiine ! Mic. {apart.) Here's for you! he has discovered all aboiit the affair; and of course is now raving about it ; a quarrel is the consequence ; I must assist him,* however. ' I vutxt n.et'.veen us, — proposed by yourself, in fact, — that you were in it to coneern yourself about my son, nor I about yours? Answer me. Mic. It is the fact. — I don't deny it. Dem. Why is he now carousing at your house ? Why are you harbouring my son? Why do you purchase a mistress f >r him, Micio ? Is it at all fair, that I should have any less justice from you, than you from me ? Since I do not concein myself about your son, don't you concern yourself about mine. Mic. You don't reason fairly. Dem. No? Mic. For surely it is a maxim of old, that among them- selves all tilings are common to friends. De.m. Smai'tly said; you've got that speech up for the occasion. !Mic. Listen to a few words, unless it is disagreeable, Demea, In the first jilace, if the extravagance your sons are guilty of distresses you, pray do reason with yourself. You formerly brought up the two suitably to your circum- stances, thinking that your o's^ti property would have to suffice for them both ; and, of course, you then thought that I should marry. Adhere to that same old rule oft/ours, — save, scrape together, and be thrifty for them ; take care to leave them as much as possible, and talcf that credit to yourself: my fortune, which has come to them beyond their expectation, allow them to enjoy ; of your capital there will be no diminution ; what comes from this quarter, set it all down as so much gain. If you think pi-oper impai-^.ially to consider these matters in your mindT Demea, you -^ll save me ai.d youi-self, and them, considerable uneasiness. Dem. I don't speak about the expen.se ; their morals ]Mic. Hold; I understand you; that point I was coming hen^siblc. PerhapB the Poet threw this shade over his virtues on pur- po.4€ to show tiial mildueas and good humour uigiit be curried to exceiiii." B 3 244 ADELPHi; Act V. to.' There are in men, Demea, many signs from whick a conjecture is easily formed ; so that when two persons do the same thing, you R^'ay often say, this one may be allowed to do it with impunity, the other may not; not that the thing itself is different, but that he is who does it. I see aigns m them, so as to feel confident that they wUl turn out as we wish. I see that they have good sense and understanding, that they have modesty u})on occasion, and are affectionate to each other ; you may infer that their bent and disposition is of a pliant nature ; at any time you like you may reclaim them. But still, you may be apprehensive that they will be somewhat too apt to neglect their interests. O my dear Demea, ia all other things we grow wi:>er with age ; this sole vice does old age bring upon men : we ai'e all more solicitous about our own interests than we need be ; and in this respect age will make them sharp enough. Dem. Only take care, Micio, that these fine reasonings of yours, and this easy disposition of yours, do not ruin us in the end. Mic. Say no more ; there's no danger of that. Now think no further of these matters. Put youi'self to-day into my liands ; smooth your brow. Dem. Why, as the occasion requires it, I must do so : but to-morrow I shall be off with my son into the country at daybreak. Mic. Aye, to-night, for my share ; only keep yourself in good hiunour for the day. Dem. I'll carry off that Music-girl along with me as well. Mic. You will gam your point ; by that means you will keep your son fast there ; only take care to secure her. Dem. I'll see to that ; and what with cooking and grinding, I'll take care she shall be weU covered with ashes, smoke, and ' That point I was coming to) — Ver. 824. Colman observes here : " Afadainc Daeier makes an observation on tins speech, something like that oi Donatus on one of Mieio's above ; and says that Jlicio, beinjrhard tiutto it by tiie real circumstances of the case, thinks to confound Demea fy a nonsensical u;alliinatia. I cannot be of the injrenious lady's opinion on this mattt'r, for I think a more sensible speech could not be made, nor a better pica oflc-ed iu favour of the youuy men, than that of ^iiciJ iu the ^/icseut instance." So. I v. THE BROTHEIIS. 24.') nii'al ; ht-sides nl! this, at the very mid-tlay' I'll sit lur jj.ithoring stubble; I'll make her as burnt antl as black aa a roal. Mic. You quite delij;ht me ; now you seem to me to be V iso ; and for my part I would then compel my sou to go t.i bed with her, even though he should be unwilling. 1H:.\I. l)o you banter me? Happy man, to have such a temper! I feel ^lir. Ah ! at it again ! Dkm. I'll have done then at once. Mu'. Go indoor.-* tluii. and let's devote thi.s day to tlie ol)ject' to which it belongs. {Goes into the house.) Scene IV. Demea alone. Dem. ^ever was there any person of ever such well-trained haliits of lite, but that experience, age, and custom are always bringing him something new, or sugsesting something; so much so, that what you believe you know you don't know, ami what you have fancied of first importance to you. on making trial you reject; and this is my case at present: for the rigid life I have hitherto led, my race nearly run, I notr renounce. Why so "r — I have found, by experience, that there is nothing better for a man than an e;i.'*y temper and complacency. That this is the truth, it is easy for any one to understand on comparing me with my brother. He has always spent his life in ease and gaiety; mild, gentle, offensive to no one, having a .smile for all, he has lived for himself, and luis spent his money for himself; atl men speak well of him, all love him. I, ar/ain, a rustic, a rigid, cross, self-denyiu'^, moro.se and thrifty person, married a wife ; what misery I entailed in consequence! Sons were bom — a fresh care. And jn>t look, while I have been studying to do as much as pos- silile for them, I have worn out my life and years in saving ; now, in the decline of my days, the return I get from *.hem for my pains is their dislike. He, on the other hand, ' AtUie very mid-day) — \eT. 851. Exposed to the heat of a midday Eun. = To the object)— Yet. 857. The marriage and iU festivities. 846 ADELPHi; Act V. without any trouble on his part, enjoys a father's comforts ; they love him ; me they shun ; him they tnist vnih all their secrets, are fond of hun, are ahcai/s with him. I am for- saken ; tliey wsh him to live ; but my death, forsooth, they are longing for. Thus, after bringing them up with all l)ossible pains, at a trifling cost he has made them his own ; thus I bear all the misery, he enjoys the pleasure. WeD then, henceforward let us try, on the other hand, whether I can't speak kindly and act complaisantly, as he challenges me to it : I also want myselt to be loved and highly valued by my friends. If that is to be effected by giving and indulging, I wUl not be behind him. If oiu* means fail, that least concerns me, as I am the eldest.^ SCEXE V. Enter Syrus. Syr Eark you, Demea, your brother begs you will not go out of the way. Dem. Who is it ? — Syms, my friend^ save you ! how are you? How goes it icith you ? Syr. Very well. Dem. Very good. (Aside.) I have now for the first time used these thi-ee expressions contnuy to my nature, — " O Syrus, my friend, how are you? — how goes it •with you?" (To Syrus.) You show yom*self far from an unworthy servant, and I shall gladly do you a service. Syr. I thank you. Dem. Yes. Syrus, it is the truth ; and you shall be con- vinced of it by experience before long. Scene VI. Enter Geta, frovi the house of Sostrata. Geta. {to Sostrata, within.) Mistress, I am going to sc- ' Am the ttdest) — Ver. 884. And therefore likely to be the first to die, and to avoid seeing such a time come. - O S:i/r7i.tnfl') — Ycr.SSf). The emptiness ofhis poorattempts to be laniiliiuare very cviilcnt in this line. So. Vir. TIIK UKOTHKIIS. 217 aftir tlKin, that thoy may send for the dumsul as soon a.s jto.ssible; but see, here's Denieu. {Accosdiiff him.) Save you! Dkm. O, what's your name ? Gkta. Get a. Dkm. Geta. I havo this day como to the com-hision tliat you ai-e a man of very great worth, for 1 hiok u|)on him :i:m. On the contrary, i'faith. it is what we onglit to il(> : in the first place, she is the mother oi his wilo (jjoiiUintj/ to :Mic. She is. \Miat then? I^VM. An honest and respectable woman. Mio. So they say. Dkm. Advanced in years. Mic. I am aware of it. Dk.m. Through her years, she is long past chiM-hoaring ; there is no one to take care of her ; she is a lone woman. Mic. (aside.) What can be his meaning ? I)km. It is right you shou'd marry her ; and that you, jji-^rhinus, should use your endeavours to effect it. Mic. I. marry her, indeed ? Pi:m. You. Mic. I? 1)i:m. You, I say. ^Iic You ai'e trifling! Dem. y]isclii>ius, if you arc a man, he'll do it. yl'scH. My dfuir lather !Mic. What, ass ! do you attend to him ? V>VM. 'T is all in vain ; it cannot be otherwise. Mic. You are mad ! ^llscH. Do let me prevail on you, my father. Mic. Are you out of your seu.ses ? Take yourself off.* I)em. Come, do oV>lige your son. Mic. Are you quite in your right mind ? Am I, in my five-and-sixtieth year, to be manyiug at last? A decrepit old V oman too ? Do you advise me /o do this ? .•EscH. Do ; I have promised it.'' Mic. Promised, indeed ; be generous at your own cost, young man Dem. Come, what if he should ask a still greater fa- vour? ' 7\ile yourself of) — Ver. 940. .^.schinus, proliably, in hi.s cnrncsrt- iu\-«, has seized hold of him with his hand, which Micio now pushes away. ■'l have promijicd it) — Ver. 043. This is not tha truth; the notioa bos only been started since he last saw them. 250 ADEJLPHi; Act Y. Mic. As if this was not the greatest I Dem. Do comply. ^SCH. Don't make any difficulty. Dem. Do promise. Mic. Will you not have done ? -^SCH. Not until I have prevailed upon you. Mic. Really, this is do^vnri,^ht force.* Dem. Act with heartiness, Micio. Mic. Althou,L!;h this seems to me* to be -wrong, foolish, absurd, and repugnant to my mode of life, yet, if you so strongly wish it, be it so. -^SCH. You act obligingly. Dem. With reason I love you; but Mic. What? Dem. I will tell you, when my wish has been complied with. Mic. What now? Wh-cit rema.ms to be done ? Dem. Hegio here is their nearest relation ; Jw is a con- nexion of ours a/ul poor ; we ought to do some good for him. Mic. Do what ? Dem. There is a little farm here in the suburbs, w^hich you let out ; let us give it him to live upon. Mic. But is it a little one ? Dem. If it were a large one, still it ought to be done ; he has been as it were a father to her; he is a worthy man, a)ul connected with us ; it would be properly bestowed. In fine, ' Bealhj, this is downright force) — Ver. 946. "Vis est hsec quidem. " The same expression occurs in the Captivi of Plantus, 1. 755. The (.xpression seemed to be a common one with the Romans. Accordim^ to Suetonius, .lulius Ctvsar used it when attacked by his murderers in tlie senate-house. On Tullius Cimbe:- seizing hold ot liis garments, he exchiinicd, " Ita quidem vis est !" — " Why, really, this is violence !'" - This nanus to me) — \*sT. 9-17. Donatus informs us that in Menan- der's Play, the old man did not make any resistance whatever to the match thus patched up for him. Colman has the following observation on this tact : " It is surprising that none of the critics on this passjige liaye taken notice of this observation of Donatus, especially as our los.s of Mcnander makes it rather curious. It is plain that Terence in the ])lan ot his last .\ct followed Mcnander ; but though he das adopted the absurdity ot marrying Micio to the old lady, yet we learn from Donatus that his judgment rather revolted at this circumstance, and he improved on his original by making Micio express a repugnance to such a match, which it seems he did not in the I'luv ti Menander." So. IX. TlIK BK^niKUS. 251 I now jiilopt that provirl) wliich you. Alu-io, a short timu ajjo n-peateil with souse and wisdom — it is the (.oinuiuu vic« of all, in old ai;e, to bo too intout upon our own interests. This .-taiu we ouidi;red b} iLc Greeks a debauch. 2j2 adelpht; Act V. Mic. (to ^sciiixus.) Do you desire tHs to be done ? tEsch I do wish it. Mic. Why then, if you desire it, just come hither, Synia, to me {performing the ceremony of manumission) ; be a free man.* Syr. You act generously ; I return my thanks to you all ; — and to you, Demea, in jiarticular. Dem. I congratulate you. -^SCH. And I. Syr. I believe you. I wish that this joy were made com- plete — that I could see my wife, Phrygia,'' free as weU. Dem. Really, a most excellent woman. Syr. And the first to suckle your grandchild, his son, to-day (jwinting to iEscniNUs). * Deji. Wliy really, in seriousness, if she was the first to do so, there is no doubt she ought to be made free. Mic. What, for doing that ? Dem. For doing that ; in fine, receive the amount from rae^ at which she is valued. Syr. May all the Gods always grant you, Demea, all you desire. Mic. Syrus, you have thrived pretty well to-day. Dem. If, in addition, Micio, you will do your duty, and lend him a little ready money in hand for present use, he will soon repay you. Mic. Less than this (snapping his fingers). j^EscH. He is a deserving fellow. Syr. Upon my word, I will repay it ; only lend it me. ^SCH. Do, fother. Mic. I'll consider of it afterwards. Dem. IIe"ll do it, Si/riis. Syr. O most worthy man ! ^SCH. O most kind-hearted father ? ' Be a free man) — Ver. 974. He touches Syrus on the ear, and makes him free. The same occurs in the Epidicus of Plautus, Act V. Sc. 2, 1. 65. - My wife, Plirycjia) — Ver. 977. The so-called marriage, or rather cohabitation, ot the Roman slaves will be found treated upon in the Notes to riautus. Syrus calls Phrygia his wife on anticipation that she will become a free woman. 3 Receive the amount from me) — Yer. 981. The only sign of gener> bity he has yet shown. Bo. IX. Tin: nnoTi! 1:1:3. 2!'>\ IMic. TTow is this ? What hius so siuldcnly cTiangcJ your (lisjiositidu, Dfiiit'ti / What caprice is this? Wftj^ moans this siuKk'ii liberality?* '■^ Pk.m. I will tell you : — That I may convii/ yott of this, Mieio, that the fact that thoy consider you aft«nfty«iid kind- Iicarted miui, does not proceed from your feal lifaA«or, in- deed, from a rcjjard for virtue and justice; Init f'foni your humourini», induli^iui;. and iiamperinij them. Noir therefon-, /Esviiinus, if my mode of life has been displeasiuij; to you. l>ecause I do not quite humour you in every thing, just or unjust, I have done : squander, buy, do what you please. But if you would rather have one to reprove and correct those faults, the results of which, by reason of your youth, you cannot see? which you pursue too ardently, ami are thought- less upon, and in due season to dii'cct you ; behold me ready to do it for you. -KscH. Father, we leave it to you ; you best know what ought to be done. But what is to be done about my brother ? Dem. I consent. Let him have Jiis mistress .' with her Lt him make an end of his follies. 3I1C. That's right. {To the Audience.) Grant us your applause. ' Tills sudden liberalihj) — Ver. 989. " Quid prohihiural Qiije isttec :=iibita est largitas V Madame Dacier tells us that tliis passage was borrowed from Ca?cilius, the Comic Poet. ^ Let him have his miftrf.ss) — Ver. 1001. It must be remembered that he has the notions of a Greek parent, and sees no such criminaliry !a tdis sanctioa as a pareat 7ould be sensible of at the present da/. HECYRA; THE MOTHEIMX-LAW. DRAMATIS PERSONA. Laches,' nn aged Athenian, father of Pamphilns. Phidippus,- an aged Athenian, father of Philumeaa. P.uiPHiLUS,'' son ot Laches. SosiA,'' servant of Pamphilus. PaemEno,* servant of Sostrata. SosTBATA,^ wife of Laches. Myrrhixa," wife of Phidippug. Bacchis,^ a Courtesan. Philotis,^ a Courtesan. Syka,'" a Procuress. Scfne. — Athens; before the houses of Laches, Phidippus, and BACcmSi ' See the Dramatis Personae of the Eunuchus 2 From (p(i('io, " parsimony," and 'nnrtic, " a horse " 2 See the Dramatis Personae of the Andria. * See the Dramatis Personae of the Andria. * See the Dramatis Personae of the Eunuchus. •• See the Dramatis Personas of the Heautontimoriimenos. 7 From fivoptin'i, "a myrtle." " See tlie Dramatis Persons of the Heautontimorumenos. ® From c^/XoD/c, "friendship." '" From Syria, lier native country. IIECYRA: THE MOTIIKR-IX-LAW. THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLUXARIS. Pamphilus has married Philumona, to whom, when a virj^in, he formerly, not knowinj; who she w;vs, oIUtoiI violence ; and whose rinij, which he took otrby force, he gave to his mistress, liacohis, a Courtesan. After- wards he sets ont for Imhros, not having touched his bride. Hav- ing become pregnant, her mother brings her over to her own house, as though sick, that her mother-in-law may not know it. Pamjihilus returns ; detects her being delivered ; conceals it ; but determines not to take ba-k his wife. His father imputes Ih'S io his i>assion for Bacchis. While Bacchis is exculpating herself, Mvrrhina, the mother of the injured girl, by chance recoirnizcs the ring. Famphilus take* back his wife, together with his son. THE FIRST PROLOGUE. Hecyr.\' is the name of this Play; when it was rei)resente>l for the first time, an unusual disa-ster and calamity- intei- nipted it, so that it could not be witnessed throu(]hout or estimated ; so much had the populace, carried away with ailmiration, devoted their attention to some rope-dancing. It is now offt-red as thoutrh entirely a new Play; and he who wTote it did not wish to bring it foiVard then a second time, on purpose that he might be able^gain to sell it.^ Other ' Heiyra) — Ver. 1. The Greek word "Eni'pa, a "step-mother," or " mother-m-law," Latinized. - Aud ralamtti/) — ycT. Z. " Galamitas."' 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 Itring forward the piece. »>n the first occ:ision it probably had none. " Vitium" was a word used by the .\ueurs, wit'-, whom it implied an unfavourable omen, and tiience came to be used for any misfortune or disaster. He seems to mean the depraved taste of the put)lic, that preferred exhibitions of rope-dancers ami pui;ilists to wifncs.-ing his I'l.ivs. ^ A'jnin to sell i^;— Ver. 7. see the last Note to the SecoUil Pro- logue. 3 2r>8 hecyra; Flnijs of his' you have seen represented ; I beg you now to give your attention to this. THE SECOND PEOLOGTJE.* I COME to you as an envoy from the Poet, in the character of prologue-speaker; allow me to be a successful jileader, that in my old age I may enjoy the same pri^dlege that I enjoyed when a younger man, when I caused new Plays, that had been once rejected, to come into favour; so that his -svritings might not die with the Poet. Among them, as to those of Csecilius,' which I first studied when new; in some of which I was rejected; in some I kept my ground with difficulty. As I knew that the fortune of the stage was varying, where the hopes wei'e uncer- tain, I siibmitted to certain toil. Those I zealously attempted to perform, that from the same icriter I might learn new ones, rnd not discourage him from his pursuits. I caused them to be represented. When seen, they pleased. Thus did I re- .store the Poet to his place, who was now almost weaned, through the malevolence of his adversaries, from his pursuits and labours, and from the dramatic art. But if I had at that period slighted the writer, and had wished to use my endea- ^ Other Plays of his) — Ver. 8. Madame Dacicr informs us tbatVossiua 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. - Second PnAogue) — Eugraphius informs us that thi.s Prologue was spoken by Anibivius Turpio, the head of the company of Actors. * CcBr{lius)—YcT. 14. Colman has the following Xote : " 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, &c., and the last by "N'arro. ' In argumcntis Cajcilius poscit palmam, in ethesi Terentius.' 'In the choice of subjects, Crecilius demands the preference; in the man- ners, Terence.'" Madame Dacier, indeed, renders "in argumcntis," "in the disposition of his subjects." But the words will not bear that con- struction. "Arguuicntum," I believe, is uniformly used for the argu- ment 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 Cwcilius, distinguishing them as the several charactcristica of '-■•;ch writer, " Vincere CDCcilius gravitate, Terentius arte." THE MOTHER-IN LAW. 2.')9 vours in disoonnnjjinij him, so tliat he might livo n life of idle- ness rather than of study. I miijht have etusily diseourai^ed him from writing; othei*s. Now, for my sake, hear with un- hiassed minds wliat it is I ask. I ajjain hrinf.; before you tho lleeyra, whieh I have never been allowed to act biforc i/oii in silenee ; such misfortunes have so overwhelmed it. These mis- fortunes your intelliiience will allay, if it is a seconder of our exertions. The first time, when 1 began to act this Plai/, the vauntinir? <)f boxers,* the expectation of a rope-dancer,* added to which, the throng of followers, the noise, the clamour of the women, caused me to retire from your presence before the time. In this new Play, I attempted to follow the old cu.stom of tnine,^ of making a fresh trial; I brought it on again. In the tirst Act I plea-setl ; when in the meantime a nimour spread that gkidiators were about to be exhibited; the populace llock together, make a tumult, clamoin- aloud, and tight for theii" places :* meantime, I was unable to maintain my place. Kow there is no confusion : there is attention and silence — an oj.portimity of acting mi/ Plati has been granted me; to yourselves is given the power of gi'acing the scenic festival* Do not permit, through your agency, the dramatic ' Vauntxngs of boxers) — Ver. 33. Horace probably had this passage in his miml when he penned the First Epistle in his Second Boole, 1. 165; where he mentions the populace leaving a Play in the midst for the sight of a bear, or an exhibition of boxers. - Of a rope-dancer) — Ver. 34. The art of dancing on the tight rope was carried to great perfection among the ancients. 3Iany paintings have been discovered, wliich show the numerous attitudes which the ]"rformers assumed. The tigures have th^ir heads enveloped in skins c r caps, probably intended as a protection in ca.se of falling. At the conclusion of the performance the dancar ran down the rope. Ger- manicus and Galba are said to have exhibited elephants dancing on the tight rope. •* The old cuMom 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. * Fi(jld for their places') — Ver. 41. This wa.s in consequence of their sitting indiscriminately at the Amphi heatre, where the gladiators were exhibited ; whercaa at the Theatres there were distinct places appro- priated to each " ordo ' or cla-ss. * Oraring the scenic jestii-al) — Ver. 45. Madame Dacicr rcmnrka that there is great force and eloquence in the Acrtor'.-; aflccting a concern for the hacrcd festivals, which were in dantrer of beinir deprived of their 260 hecyra; Act I. art to sink into the hands of a few; let your authority prove a seconder and assistant to my oAvn. If I have never covetously set a price upon my skill and have come to this conclusion, that it is the gi-eatest gain in the highest possible degree to contribute to your entertainment ; allow me to obtain this of you, that him who has entrusted his labours to my protec- tion, and himself to your integrity, — that him, I say, the malicious may not maliciously deride, beset bij them on every side. For my sake, admit of this plea, and attend in silence, that he may be encouraged to write other Plays, and that it may be for my advantage to study new ones hereafter, purchased at my own expense.^ ACT THE FIRST. Scene I. Enter Philotis' and Stra. PuiL. I'faith, Syra, you can find but very few lovers who prove constant to their mistresses. For instance, how often did this Pamphilus swear to Bacchis — how solemnly, chief ornaments, if by too great a severity they discouraged the Poeta who undertook to furnish the Plays during the solemnity. ' 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 if^diles to purchase a Play of a Poet at a price fi.xed by the liead of the company of actors. It is also thought that the money was paid to the actor, who handed over tlie whole, or a certain part, to the Poet, and if the Play was not received with favour, the ^Ediles had the right to ask back the money from the actor, who consequently became a loser by the transaction. Parens and Jleric CasauboQ think, however, that in the case of this Play, the /l']diles had purchased it from the Poet, and the performers had bought it of the /Ediles as a .speculation. AVhat 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 favour, he would have had to forfeit the money, and lose all right to any future pecuniary intercut in it ; but he preferred to cancel the whole transaction, and to reserve the Play tor purchase and representation at a more favourable period. ■•^ P/((7o(/s)— This is a protatic character, or one that helps to introduce the subject of the Play, and then appears no more. Sv II. TllE MCTIIKR-IN LAW. ^f.l SO tliut any onc« niiiu'lit Imvo nadily l>iliic- chis here, when his father bepin to inij)ortune him to take a wife, anil to urge those jioints whieh are usual with all fethers, that he //////.sv7/"was now in years, and that he was hi.s only son, that he wished for a sup]>ort for his declining years. He refused at tirst. But ou his father pressing more urgently, he caused him to become wavering in his mind, whether to yield mther to duty or to love. By hammering on and teazing him, at last the old man gained his point; and betrothed him to the daughter of our next iloor neighbour here {pointing to the housr of Phidippis.) This did not .seem so very di.s;igi-ee- able to Pamphilus, until on the very point of marriage, when he saw that all was ready, and that no respite was granted, but maiTV he must ; then, at la.st, he took it so much to heiirt, that I do believe if Baechis hail been present, even she would have pitied him. Whenever ojiportuuity was afforded for us being alone, so that he could conver.se with me, he nued to sdi/ : '• Parmeno, I am ruined ! What have I done ! Into what misery have I plunged myself! Parmeno, I shall never be able to endure this. To my miseiy, I am undone!" Phil, {vehementli/ exclaiming.) ^lay the Gods and God- desses confound you. Laches, for vexing him so! Par. To cut the matter short, he took home his wife. On the tir.-it night, he did not touch the girl; the night that followed that, not a bit the more. -< Phil. What is it you tell me ? ^A young man go to bed with a virgin, intoxicated to boot, and able to restrain him- self from touching her ! You do not say what's likely; nor do I V>elieve it to be the tnith. Par. I suppose it docs seem so to you, for no one comes to you unless he is eager for you; but he had married her against his will. PiiiL. After this, what followed ? Par. In a very few days after, Pamphilus took me aside, away from the hou.se, and told me how that the young woman wa.s still untouched by him; and how that before he had taken her home as his wife, he had hoped to be able to euduni 2fi4 hectra; Act L this marriage ; " But, Parmeno. as I cannot resolve to live with her any longer, it is neither honorable in me, nor of advantage to the young woman herself, for her to be turned to ridicule, but rather I ought to retiu'n her to her relations just as I received her." Phil. You tell me of a conscientious and virtuous disposi- tion in Pamphilus. Par. " For me to declare this, I consider to be inconvenient to me, but for her to be sent back to her father without men- tioning any blame, would be insolent j but I am in hojies that she, when she is sensible that she caixnot live with me, will go at last of her own accord." Phil. What did he do in the meanwhile ? Used he to visit Bacchis ? Par. Every day. But as iisttally is the case, after she saw that he belonged to another, she immediately became more ill-natured and more peevish. Phil. I' faith, that's not to be wondered at. Par, And this circumstance in especial contributed to estrange him from her; after he had fairly examined himself, and her, and the one that was at home, he formed a judgment, by compai'ison, upon the principles of them both. She, just as might be expected from a person of respectable and free birth, chaste and virtuous, patient under the slights and all the insults of her husband, and concealing his afiVonts. Upon this, his mind, partly overcome by com])assion for his \vife, partly constrained by the insolence of the other, was gra- dually estranged from Bacchis, and transferred its aflections to the other, after having found a congenial disposition. In the meantime, there dies at Imbros,' an old man, a relative of theirs. His property there devolved on them by law. Thither his father dx-ove the love-sick Pamphilus, much against his will. He left his wife here with his mother, for the old man has retired into the country; he seldom comes into the city. Phil. What is there yet in this marriage to pi-event its- being lasting ? Par. You shall hear just now. At first, for several days, there really was a gootl understanding between them. In the ' /HjJros)— Ver. 171. An island in the .Eg-ean sea, off the coiust of Thrace. 5v.\ IT. Tin: MOTIIKIMN LAW. 2^5 Micimtiuie, however, iu a strange way, she hei^ii t<> taku a dislike to Sostrata; nor yut waa there ever tiiiy ijuaiivl or wonls between tlieiu. TniL. What tlien ? I'.VK. If at any time she eanie to eonversi? with lur, slio wouM instantly withdraw from lu-r presenee,' ami refuse to see her; in tine, when she eouM no Ioniser emliire her, she pretenileil that she was sent fur hy lur niotln-r to assist at a srteritii-e. When she luid been there a few days, Sosfrata orUered her to be fetched. She made some, I know not wliat, excuse. Again she gave similar orders; no one .>w Hs yet ; but really I do feel some anxiety in. what way this is to end. You note have the whole matter ; and I shidl pro- ceed whither I was on my way. Phil. And I too, for I made an appointment with a certain stranger- to meet him. P.\.K. !May the Gods prosper what you undertake ! Phil. Farewell ! Paic And a kind farewell to you, my dear PhLlotis. (Exeunt severaUi/. ' From her presprtce^ — Ver. 182. For the purpose, a.s will aftenvarcia appear, of not letting Jjostrata see ttiat she was pregnant. ■" With a certain strawjer) — Ver 195» Here Philotis gives a reasop, as Douatus observes, why she does not again appear iu the I'iay. Th following is an extract Irom Col mans -rtraarks on this passage: "It «ere to be wis^hed, for the sake of the credit oi our author's acknowlcdgeil vrt \n the Drama, that Philotis had a.ssigned as good a reason for Lr;r ! Mpearing at all. Iluirraphius justly says: 'The Courtesan in thia ^cene is a character quite foreign to the fable.' Donatus also s;iys niu<-oor old gentleman is kept in such constant perplexity that he has perpetual occasion to exert both those qualities." Pc. T. Tin: MOTiir.R-iN-i.AW. 2C7 You. who are disjjracini; both nic ami \ uur.sclf and thf t.iuiily, ami use layins» up sorrow for your son. Th»'n lu'sidi's, you are inakini; our (.'onnoxions ln-comc, from frii'nds, mmiii's to ua, wlio have thou>;ht liini ih'st>rvini^ for thoni to t-ntrust their children' to him. You alone have jnit yourself for- wanl, bv your folly, to bo causing this (listurbaucu. Sos. What. I ? ' L.vrn. You. woman. I S!\y. who take me to be a stone, not A man. Do you think because it's my hal)it to be so much in the country, that I tlon't know in what way each pei-sou is passing his life here? I know much lu'tter what is going on here than there, where I am daily ; for this reason, be- muse, jnst as you act at home, I am spoken of abroad. -^.'Uie time since, indeed, I heard that Pliiiumena had taken I dislike to you ; nor did I the least wonder at it ; indeed, if ^lie hadn't done so, it would have been more surprising. But 1 ilid not sujipose that she woixld have gone so far as to hate '. .-n the whole of the family ; if 1 had known (fiot, she should ive remained here in preference, ant/ you should have gone way. But consider how undeservedly these vexations arise II your account, Sostrata ; I went to live in the country, in inpliance with your request, and to look after my aflairs, in order that my ciiTumstances might be able to sup]iort your lavishness and comforts, not sparing my own exertions, V>evond what's reasonable and my time of lite allows. That you should take no care, in return for all this, that there should be nothing to vex me ! Sos. Upon my word, through no means or fault of mine has this taken place. Lacii. Nay, through you in especial ; yon were the only jierson here; on you alone, Sostrata7 falls all the blame. You ouirht to have taken care of matters here, as I had released you from other anxieties. Is it not a disgrace for an old woman to pick a quan-el with a girl ? You will say it was her fault. Sos. Indeed I do not say so, my dear Laches. Lach. I am glad of that, so may the Gods prosper me, for my son's sake. I am quite sure of this, that no fault of yours can possibly put you in a woi-se light. Sos. How do you know, my husband, whether she may ' EntruH their children)— Ycr. 212. The plural "libcros." .•liildrcn, - usc that iii this matter I shall liml citlier my motlier or my wilo in fault; ainl when 1 find such to he the fact, what romiiins hut to become still more wretched ? For duty, rarmeno, bids uie bear with tlie feelinlt(-r SOSTRATA. Sos. (to herself.) In chiadtul ^ilarin, I liavo for some timo heard, I know not what confusion going on here ; I in sadly afniiil rhiluinena's illness is getting worse. yEs(nlaj)ius, I do entreat thee, and thee. Health,' that it may not be so. Now I'll go visit her. {Approaches the i/oor.) Par. {coming foncard.) Hark you, Sostrata. Sos. {tuniiiKj round.) Well. Par. You will aujain be shut out there. Sos. What, Parnieno, is it you ? I'm undone ! wrcteh 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 himsell" 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 1 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 ari.sen between you, mid how the diflerence first began. I But see, he's coming out — haw sad he looks ! ' And thee. Health) — Ver. 338. She invokes iEsculopius, the God of Medicine, and "'Salus," or " Health," because, in Greece, their sUituea were always placed near each other ; so that to have ofl'ered prayers to one and not to the other, would have been deemed a hii^h iiidiiriiity. On the worship of ^Edculapius, sec the opening; Scene of the C/uculij of Flauuu. 274 hectba; A.rt m. Scene IV. He-enter Pamphilus, from the house of Phidippus. Sos. {running up to him.) O my son ! {Embraces him.) Pam. My mother, blessmgs on you. i 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 sud- denly taken ill ? Pam. Such was the fact. Sos. What is her malady ? Pam. a fever. Sos. An intermitting one ? * 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 P ( Exit Parmeno. Scene V. Pamphilus, alone. Pam. I cannot discover any fitting commencement of my troubles, at which to begin to narrate the things that have so unexjiectedly befallen me, some of wliich 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 aftlicted with some otlior malady than what I have found it to be ; — ah me ! immediately the servant-maids beheld that I had ' An intermitting one) — Ver. 357. " Quotidiana;" litciilly, " daily." Sc. V. THi: MOTIIF.R-IN-LAVA 27.1 arrived, they all at the same moment joyfnllv exolfiimeel " lie is come," from having so smldenly emi^lit si"ht of my But I soon pereeived tlie eountenances of all of them cljiiiiijc^ beeauso at so unseasonahlo a juncture eliam-o had hrouL,'!| mo there. One of them in the meantime ha^til} ran hLtoif me to give notice that I had come. Impatient to see my wife, I followed close. ^NHien I entered the room, thr.t instant, to my sori-ow, I found out her malady; for neither did the time atlonl any interval to enalde her to conceal it, nor could she complain in any other accents than those which the case itself jn-omptcd. When I perceived this : " O dis- graceful conduct!" I exclaimed, and instantly hurried away from the spot in tears, overwhelmed by such an incredible and shocking circimistance. Her mother followed me; just a.s 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: "0 my dear Pamphilus, you see the reasson why she left your house ; for violence was offered to her when formerly a maid, by some villain to us imknown. Now, she took refuge here then, that from you and others she might conceal hex labour." But when I call to mind her entreaties, I cannot, wi-etched as 1 am, refrain irom 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 deai- Pamphilus, that she was tenderly disposed towards you, she now asks you to grant her this favour in return, without making any difficulty of it. But as to taking her back, act quite according to your own con- venience. You alone are aware of her lying-m, and that tlie 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 l)ut the seventh month since she came to you.' That you are sensible of this, the circumstances thera- • All of them change) — Vcr. .369. This mnat have bein imacfin.iry, M they were not likely to be acquainted with the reason of riiiluaitiia'a apprehen.sions. - Hincc dht came to you) — Vcr. 3ltl. There id great doiiM what is tlio X :j 27(i hecyra; Aot IIL .velves prove. Now, if it is possible, Pamphilus, I esjiecially wish, and will use my endeavours, that her labour may remain unknown to her father, and to all, in fact. But if that cannot be managed, and they do find it out, I will say that she miscan-ied ; I am sui^e no one will suspect othei-wise than, what is so likely, the child was by you. It shaD be instantly exposed ; in that case there is no inconvenience whatever to yourself, and you will be concealing an outrage so imdeservingly committed upon her,^ poor thing :" I pro- mised 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 hoiv great her loneliness in future. O Fortune, thou hast never been found constant ! But by this time mjj former passion has taught me experience in tlie 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 cir- cumstances, 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 Jest, if he should frequently hear her cries, he might find out that she is in labour He must be dispatched by me somewhere till PhUumena is delivered. exact meaning of "postquam ad te venit," here, — whether it means, "it is now the seventh montli since she became your wife," or, " it is now the Beventh month since she came to jour embraces," which did not hiippen for two monllis after the marriage. The former is, under the circum- Btanccs, the most probable construction. ' Committed v))on her) — Ver. 401. Colman very justly observes here: "It is rather extraurdiuary 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 Fitth 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 IMautus; and violence and debauchery seem almost to have reigned paramount iii the tilreets at uighU St". ^'^. Tin: MOTH Ku IN ivw. Scene VI. Enter at a distance Pahmeno antt Sosi.v. with people carry nig bafjjttijr. Pail {to SosiA.) Do you siiy that this voyage wua (liwijjrco- ablo to you ? SosiA. V\wn my faith, Purmcno, it ouniiot ho so much as expresjiod in wt)nls, Ijow disiigreeable it is to go on u voyage. Par. Do you s;iy so ? SosiA. lui-ky man! You don't know what evils you huvtt i.-oa|X!d, by never having boon at sea. For to say notlnng of other hardships, mark this one only; thirty days or more' wjis I on Kiartl tiiat slup, and eveiy moment, to my horror, was in continual expectation of death : such unfavourable weather did we always meet with. Pak. How annoying ! SosiA. That's not unknown to me : in fine, upon my faith, I would rather nm away than go back, if I knew that I should have to go back there. Pak. Why really, but slight causes formerly made you, Sosia, do what now you are threatening to do. But I se<; Pamphilus himself standing before the door. {To the Atten- ' nils, v:ho go into the house q/' Laches.) Go in doors; FU oost him, to see if he wants anything with me. {Accostis pAMPUiLrs.) What, still standing here, master? Pam. Yes, and waiting for you. Par. What's the matter '? Pam You must run across to the citadel.' Par. Who must ? -- Pam. You. Par. To the citadel ? Wliy thither ? Pam. To meet Callidemwles, my entertainer at I\Tyconoft, wlio came over in the same ship witli me. P.\R. {aside.) Confusion! I should say he has made a vow ' Thirty daua or more) — Ver. 421. In liia voyage from Imbroa to Athena, namely, which certainly appears to have Viecn unusually lonjtr. -' To the citadel)— \cr. r6\. This wa.s the fort or citadel that defenilcd the Piraeus, and beim; three miles distant from the city, was belter aiilcd for the design ol Pamphilus, whose object it was to keep Panneno fir some time at a distance. 278 hecyra; Act IIL that if ever he should return home safe, he would i-upture me' with walking. Pam. Why are you lingering ? Par. What do you wish me to say ? Or am I to meet hin: only ? Pam. No j say that I cannot 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 1*11 tell you how to know it ; a huge fellou; ruddy, with curly hair, fat, with grey 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, Avait titers. Run ! Par. I can't ; I am so tired. {Exit slowly. Scene VIL Pamphilus, alone. Pam. He's off. What shall I do in this distressed situa- tion ? Peally, I don't know in what way I'm to conceal this, as INlyiThina entreated me, her daughter's lying-in ; bin I do pity the woman. What I can, I'll do ; onh/ so long, how- ever, as I observe my duty; for it is proper that I should be regardful of a parent,- 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 a])aTt.) Scene VIIL Enter, at a distance, Laches and Phidippus. Lach. Did you not say, just now, that she was waiting for my son's return ? ' H^voidd rupture me) — Ver. 435. He facetiously pretends to think that Pamphilus may, during a storm at sea, have vowed to walk him x* death, if he should return home. - Regardful of a parent) — Ver. 448. Colman observes here : " Thi-^ reflection seems to be rather improper in this place, for the discover}' cf Philumena's labour betrayed to i'amphilus the real motive of her depar- ture ; after which discovery his anxiety proceeds entirely from the sup- posed injury otl'crcd him, and his filial piety is from that period made ase of merely aa a pretence." 1 B<- VIII. THE MOTnEn-iN-:.AW. '279 Vniu. Just 80. Lach. Thoy say that ho has arrived ; let hor rettim. PaM. {apart to /limsrlf, aloud.) Wliat exeuse ti) make to my lather for uot taking lier back, I clout know ! Lacii. {turniiuj round.) Who was it I heard .si)eakiii:,' luif r Pam. (apart.) I am resolved to persevere in the course I dcteruiined to pursue. Lach. 'Tis the very person about whom I was talking to you Pam. Health to you, my lather. Lach. Health to you, my son. Phid. I am gl.ul that you have returned, Pamjjhilus, and the more esjieeially so, as you are sale and well. Pam. 1 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 i)leasure while he lived ; and tho.se who aie so, don't much l>enetit their heirs, but for themselves leave this coni- inendation : While he lived, he lived well.' Lach. So then, you have brought home nothing more' than a single sentiment ? Pam. Whatever he has left, we are the gainers by it. L.\cH. 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 •me to life again; and after all I know which of the two you would prefer. ^ Lach. Yesterday, he (pointing to Phidippus) desired Philu- mena to be fetched to his house. {IVhiapers to Phidippus, nuiiijing him with his elboio.) Say that you desired it. He lived well) — Ver. 461. This is living well in the sense used by the " Friar of onlera grey " " Who leads a good life is sure to live well.- - Brought home nothing more) — Ver. 462. Colman remarks that tiiia paa&ige is taken neticc of by Donatus as a particularly iiappy stroko of ciiaractcr; and indeed the idea of a covetous old man {;a[>iiig for a fat •:i<'y, and having his mouth stopped by a moral precept, is truly 280 Hi:cYiiAj Act IIT. Phid. {aside to Laches.) Don't punch me so. {To Pam- PHiLUS.) I desired it. Lach. But hell 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 an-ival. 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 fimily ; and if I were now truthful to mention of how faithful, loving, and tender a disposition I have proved towards 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 towards me, speak. SCKNI: IV. Entrr SosTiiATA and PAMrim.rs. Soa It 19 not unknown to mo, my son, tliat 1 iim auspoctod liy you as tho cause ot your wito li.iviuij lel't «)ur house iit ionse«|uence of my conihu t ; altliou^li you carelully coneiMl your kuowleilgo of it. But so may tlie GocU prosper me, and bO may you answer all my hoj)es, I have never knowingly deserved that hatred of me sliould with i-eason pos.sess her ; and while I thought before that you loved me, on that point you have oontirmed my belief: for indoors your father has just uow related to me in what way you have preferred me to your passion. Now it is my determination to return ytni the f.ivour, that you may understand that with me lies the reward of your ailootion. My ramjihilus, I think that this is expedient both for yourselves and my own reputation. I have finally resolved to retire hence into the c;ountry with your fatiier, that my presence may not be an obstaele, and that no pretence may remain why yom* Philumena should not i-tituru 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 throui^'h my perverscness, and not your inclination. Besides, I do not wish you, for my sake, to forego your friends and relations, and festive days.' Sos. Upon my word, these things aflbrd me no pleasure now. While my time of life permitted it, I enjoyed them enough ; satiety of that mode of "fife has now taken {)osses- sion 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.* 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 ' Andfeiiwe day8)^Yer. 592. " Festos dies." Tlic days for wicri- ficini; to particular Divinitic", wlicn bIic would have the opportunity of meeting lier trienda, and uialving lierself merry witli tlicm. ■* Look fonrard with impatience to vn/ (lfath) — \cr. 59*5. Colman Bays: •' Tiiis idea of tlie loug Life of a step-mother being odious lo hor 286 HEOYiu; Act IV. short all grrotinrls of discontent -^-jth all ; I stall both fiea 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 ffood 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 everything 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 Y. Unfer 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 indoors tlien, and get together the things that are to be t;iken with you, I have noiv said it. Sos. I'll do as you desire. [Goes into the house.) family, is applied in a very beautiful and uncommon manner by Shaka- peare : — " Xow, fair Ilippolyta, our nuptial hour Drawi5 on apace ; for liappy days bring in Anotlier morn ; but oh, methinks how slow This old nioru wane-! ! she lingers my desires Like to a stopdamc, or a dowager, Long withering out a young mans revenue." Midsummer Night's Dream. Bo. VI. Tilt: MtmiKiMx-L-vw. 237 Pam. Father! Lacii. What do you want, ram]>hihis? Pam. ^ly mother ^o awriy ''. V>)' no moanii. Lacii. Why would you havo it so ? Pam Bocauso I tun as yet undetermined what T sliall clo about my wite. Lacii. How is that ? What should you intend to do but brinij her home ? Pam. For my part, I couhl like, and ean liardly forl)eMr it; but I shall not alter my de.sii;n; that whieh is most advan- tageous I shall pursue; I suppose {ironicalhi) tliat they will be better reconciled, in conseipience, il" I shall take her back. Lacii. You cannot tell. r>ut it matters nothinj:; to you which they do when she has gone away. Fersons o/'this ago are disliked by young people ; it is right /or us to withdraw from the world ; in Hne, we are now a nice by^vord. We are, Panijdiilus, "the old man and the old woman."* But I see Phidippus coming out just at the time; let's accost him. Scene VL Jlnfcr PniDipPUS, from Ins lioxise. PniT>. {speal-iufj at the door to Piiilumena, wifJn'n.) Upon my faith, I am angiy with you too, Philumena, extremely so, for, on my word, you have acted badly; still there is an excu.^ for you in this matter ; your mother forced you to it; but for her there is none. Lach. {accostinff him.) Phidippus, you meet me at a lucky moment, ju.st at the very time. -^ Phid. What's the matter ? Pam. [aitide.) What answer shall I make them, or in what manner keep this secret ? - ' The old man and the old icomayi) — Vcr. 621. "Senex afquc anus." In these words he probably refer-* to the commencement of many of the Ftories current in those times, which began : " There were once upon a • uc an obi man and an old woman." Indeed, almost the same words •ur in the Sticbus of I'lautus, 1. 540, at the commencemeut oi a story : ' Fuit olim. quasi ego sum, seuex," "There was upon a time au old Uioa. juiit like me." 2ftS hecyra; Act IV. I Lach. {to Pkidippus.) Tell your daughter that Sostrata is going into the country, that she may not now be afraid returning home. Phid. Alas ! your wife has been guilty of no fault in thial affair; all this mischief has originated in my wife Myi*- rhina. 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 other- wise inclined, still take the child. ^ Pam. (aside.) He has discovered that she has been brought to bed. I'm undone! Lach. The chUd ! 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. L\CH. So may the Gods prosper me, you bring good tidings,, and I am glad a child has been born, and that she is sate: 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 cannot sufliciently 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 deliberatioa for you in this matter. Pam. (aside.) I'm undone ! Lach. (fo 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 ' Still take the child) — Vcr. 638. In cases of separation it was ca» touiary for the fulhcr to have the cure of the male children. So \\. Tin: MOTllKK-lN-l.AW. 2H0 Pam. Fatlior, if sin- lia suaded her. Is that to be wondered at? Do you suppose •ni can tind any woman who is free from fault ? Or is it it men have no failings ? Pain. Do you yourselves now consider, I^iches, aniiiion tliat first we ouijht to go to tliis mistrt'ss of /lin. Lot us use entivaties with her; ffmi lot us ivlnike lur; and at last, let us very aeriously threaten her, if she gives him any eneouragement in futuiw Lacii. I will do as you advise. {Ti(nunfj io an Attendant ) llo, there, boy! run to the house of Bacchis here, our ncigh- li(»ur; dosiiv her, in my name, to come hither. {Exit At- ■' i:nd.\nt.) And you, I further entreat, to give mc your sistance in tliis atJair. PuiD. Well, I have already said, and I now s:iy again to lO same etToct, Laches, I wish this alliance botweou us to utinue, if by any means it possibly may, which I trust will the case. But should you like' me to be with you while 'U meet her ? L.vcH. Why yes; but fii'st go and get some one as a nurse I I- the child. {Exit Phidh'PUS. Scene VIIL Enter Bacchis, attended hy 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. Lack, (to himself.) I must take c^ire that I don't, through anger, miss gaining in this quarter what I other u'i^r migjit, and that I don't do anything which hereafter it would have Iteen Wtter I had not done. I'll accost her. {Accosts her.) Ricchis, good morrow to you ! Baccu. Good morrow to you, Laches ! Lack. Troth, now, Bacchis, I suppose you somewhat ' But should you like) — Ver. 725. Donatua ohservea that, Phidipiiia nttcrs these words with an air of disinclination fo be present at tiie cun- fcrcuce, ami. indeed, tlie chunictcrs arc well susi.iined, as it would not l>e- rome him coolly to discourse wiiii a courtesan, vlioni he siii>i><>sls to have i'^nated I'ainphiliia from his daughter, althoMj^h he nii;,'ht vcrv pro- j^ .r.y advise it, Od being likel/ to conduce to tlie peace of both fauiilici, U 2 292 nECTRA ; Act lY. wonder wha*. 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 he to my prejudice; for my behaviour I can easily defend. Lach. If you speak the truth, you will be iu 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 oflfer an injury to you, when undeserving of it. Baoch. On my word, great is the gratitude that I ought to feel towards you for such conduct; for he who, after commit- ting 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 1 intended. He has now got a wife : looh out for another person more to be depended on, while you have time to deliberate; for neither will he be of this miud 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' from me ever since he took a wife. ' Kept Pamphilus at a distance)— Yer. 752. Colman observes, how are we to rctroncile this with the words of Parineno at the begiimiii!; of the Play, where he says that Taniphihis vi.-iited Bacch is daily; and ha ciKiuire.s whether we are to supiiosc that Bacchis. who behaves so CAn-
  • means oULrht ; lor he has deserved of me, that so far £ij I am able, I should do him a ser\'ice. L.\CH. Your lauL;ua:L^e ha" rendered rae quite friendly and well disposed towards you; but not only did they think to — I too believed it. Now that I have found you quite different from what I had expected, take care that you still ■iiutinue the same —make use of my friend.ship as y>.>u j)Iease; t" otherwise ; but I will forbear, that you may not hear .inythiui,' unkind from me. But this one thing I recommend you — make trial what sort of a friend I am, or what I cau (. tlect <;*■ ;iuch, rather than icliat as an enemy. Scene IX. Enter Phidippus arid a Nurse. PiciD. {to the Nurse.) Nothing at my house will T suffer \■<^\l to l>e in want of ; but whirtrever is requisite shall be .-upplied uou in abundance. Still, when you are well fetl and well flrenched, do take care that the child has enou/^h. ^The NuB.SEyw« into hia hmse.) Lach. {to Bacciiis.) ^ly son's father-in-law, I see, ia eomiuf:; he is bringing a nurse for the child. {Accosting him.) rhidippus. I'acchis swears most solemnly, PlliD. Is this she ? liim.selfl To thia it may he answered, that as Bacchis appears to !* •& scrupuloui* in other instances, it is crcdihie that, noiwiiiistAnding hil ViailA, oLc ma^ uul have allowed Liiu to ^Luru bur eiubiacc^. 291 hecyra; Act IV., So. IX. Lach. It is. PiiiD. Upon my faith, those women don't fear the Gods ; and I don't think that the Gods care about them. Bacch. (poinfinr/ to her Attesvai^ts.) I will give you up my female servants; with my full permission, examine them wth any tortures you please. The business at present is this : I must make his wife return home to Pampliilus; 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.' Lach. We find, Phidippus, that our wives have been vmjustly suspected'* by us in this matter. Let us row try her still further j for if your ^vife discovers that she has given credence to a false charge, she will dismiss her resent- ment ; but if my son is also angry, by reason of the circum- stance that his wife has been brought to bed Avithout his knowledge, that is a trifle : liis 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 Iter; here she is ; she herself will satisfy you. PiiiD. Why do you tell me these things ? Is it because you have not already heard what my feelings are with regard to this mattex', Laches ? Do you ouly satisfy their minds. ' Other courtesans avoid doing) — Ver. 777. Colman has the following quotation Irom Douatus: "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 everything seems reconcileable 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 courtes:ins.'" I'erhaps 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 iiis Play of "The Jew," to combat the popular prejudice against that persecuted class, by showing, iu the character of Sheva, that a Jew might possibly be a virtuous man. - Have been uiijiistl;/ 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 tha pensc above given seems piefer.\ble, as being the meaning of th' passage. Act v., Sc. T. TlIK MOTIIKR-IN [,\W, 2'J5 L.vcii. Troth now, Dacihis, I do i-ntrout that wl);it you havo promisi'd uw you will do. Bacch. Would you wish mc, then, to go in alxiut this business ? Lach. Go, aud sjitisfy thov: minis, so a.< to n.jikc thcu believe it. Baccii. I'll go: although, upon my word, I uii< (juitc sjic that my presence will he disairieeahle to them, ♦ov a married woman is the enemy of a mistress, when slie has heen se[>a- rated from her husband. Lach. But they will be your friends, when they know tlio reason of your eoming. PiliD. And 1 promi.se that tiny shall be your friends, win ii they know the tact; for you will release them from thur mistake, ami youi-self, at the same time, from sus])ieion. Baccii. Wretched me ! I'm ashamed to meet Philumcr»^. ^To Afr AttexD/\:nts.) Do you both follow me into the house. {Goes into the house with Piiidii'I'ls and her Attendants.) Lach. {to himself.) What is there that I could more wit-h for, than what I see has hapjuned to this woman ? To gain favour without loss to niv.self. and to benefit myself at thn same time. For if now it is the fact that she has really with- d^a^vn from Pamphilns, she knows that l>y that step she haij acquired honour and reputation : she returns the favour to him, and, by the same means, attaches us as friends to hur- 8el£ {Goes into the house.) ACT THE flFTIL Scene I. Enter Parjieno, movin/j along icith (lijjiculty. Par. {to himself.) Upon my faith, my master does assuredly think my labour 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 laDtt)re /<> ////// .- from tho suspicion that ho lay umU-r witli his father ami rhi(li|>|ius, 1 have oleareil him. This ring, in fait, was the cau.se of theso much so that not u siuLrlo man liviu" IS moro ongaj,'ing than you. Pam. (litin/liini/.) Ha, ha, lia ! do you /ill mo so ? Bacoh. You had reason, Pamphihis, for being so fond of your wife. For never hefore to-day did I set eyes upon her, so as to know her: she seems a very gentle ])ersou. 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 uiy father ? Bacch. Not a word. P.\M. Nor is there need, in lact; therefore keep it a secret: I don't wish it to be the ca.se here aa it is in the Comiulies,* whei-e everything is known to everybody. 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. jNIyrrhina has told Phidippus to this etiect — that .she has given ei'edit to my oath, and that, in consequence, in her eyes you are exculpated. Pam. Mo.st excellent ; and I trust that this matter will turn out accoriling 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 ia you are tilking about ? Pam. You may not. ' In the Comedies) — Ver. 867. Madame Dacicr oli?eivos on fliis pa&sa^e : " Terenc-c here, with rexson, endeavours to make the most of a circumstance peculiar to hi* Play. In other Comedies, everybody, .\ctor3 as well as Spectators, are at last equally acquainted with the whole inlrii^e and cata-slropbe, and it would even be a defect in the plot were there any obscurity remainini^. But Terence, like a true genius, makes himself superior to rules, and adds new beauties to his piece by fon^king them. His rea.sons for concealinij from part of tiio personiiges of the Drama the principal incident of the plot, are so plau- sible and natunil, that he could not have followed the beaten track without oBcnding again.st manners and decency. Thia bold aud uncom* mou turn ia cue of the chief gmccs of the I'lay." nnO HECTRA. ActV.. Sc. IT. Par. Still I susjiect. "7 restore Mnij when dead, from the shades below."' 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 anything 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.* 1 From the shades heloiv) — Ver. 876 Parmeno says tnis, while pon- dering upon the meaning of all that is going oq, and therby expresses his impatience to become acquainted wi'h it. He therelbre repeats what Pampliilus has before said in the twelfth line of LUe present Act, about his having be-n restored from death to life by hs agency. - Ynnr apphnifie) --\tr. ^iSl. We may here remark, that the Hecyrj is the xily Due of tk"? Pia?*; of Tarenje witJi a single plat. TlIK TIT1.F ^F Till' PLAY. rKRFORMF.D at the Eomau Games,' L. Posthumiua Albinos? and L. Cornelius "Merula being Curule ^Ediles. L. Ambi- vius Tiirpio and L. Atilius Pnenestinus performed it. Flaccus, trie freedman of Claudius, composed the music to a base and a treble flute. It is wholly from the Greek, being the Epiili^azomonos of ApoUodorus. It was repre^ sonted four times,' C. Fanuius and M. Valerius being Consuls.* ' 77*e Roman Games) — The " ludi Romani." or "Roman Oames," were firtit csialilished by Ancus Marcius, auJ wcro ccleJxated in the month of September. * Four times) — The numerals signifying "four," Donatua takes to mean that this was the fourth Play composed by Terence; it is, however, more generally supposed that the meaning is, that it wa3 acted four tioaes ill one year. 5 B'^inij Co/tfnds) — M. Valerius Mes.^tila and C. Fnnnius Strabo wei» CousuU in the ^ear from the Building of the City i>fJi, and B.C. 10? PHORMTO ; 01], THE SCHEMING PAEASITE. THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINAEIS. SMlPHO, the brother of Chremes, has gone abroad, his son Antipho being left at Atliens. Cliremes has secretly a wife and a daughter at Lemuos, 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, (Chremes being away,^ arranges the funeral. After Antipho has fallen in love with her when seen there, through the aid of the Para.et from his studies to absolute want; he ///'// 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 jjiven by him, let him consider as now returned. I will make an end of speaking about him. when, of his o\y\i 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 " Epidicazo- menos,"' in Greek: in the Latin, he calls it "Phormio;" because the person that acts the principal psirt is Phormio, a Piirasite, through whom, principally, the plot will be carried on, if your favour attends the Poet. Lend your attention; in silence give an eiir 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 ]>lace;' which place, the merit of the actor, and your goodwill and candoiu secouaing it, has since restored unto us. ' Epidicazomenox^i — Yer. 25. A Play of Apollodorus, so called from that Greek word, signifyinE: "one who demands justice from another," in allu.-iion to Phormio, who is the complainant in the suit, which is the foundation of the plot. - Wcu driven from the place)— "Ver. 32. Alluding, probably, to the disturbances which tooic place at the first representation ot the Ilccyia, aud which arc mcationed in the Trologucs to that Piay. w^ 3Q(3 PHORMIO; OR, Act I., So. I. ACT THE FIRST. SCEXE I. Enter Davus,^ toith a hag of money in Jiis liand. Day. Geta, my very good friend and feUow-towTisman, came to me yesterday. There had been for some time a trifling balance of money of his in my hands upon a small account ; Tie 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 spai'ed, ounce by ounce, out of his allowance,'* defrauding himself of every indulgence, the whole of it will she carry off, without thinking with how much labour it has been acquired. And then besides, Geta will be struck* for another present* when his mistress is brought to bed; and then again for another nresent, when the child's birthday comes; when they initiate nim,' 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 ? > Da^rus) — Darus is a protatic character, only introduced for the pur- pose ot opening the story. 2 Out of his alloivance) — Ver. 43. Donatus tells us that the slaves received four "modii," or measures of corn, each month, which was called their "demensum." 3 Will he struck)— ^' ex. is. " Ferietur." "To strike" a person for a present was said when it was extorted from him reluctantly. So in the Trinummuns of Plautus, 1. 247, " Ibi ilia pendeutem ferit." " Then does she strike while he is wavering." * For another prfsent) — Ver. 48. Presents were usually made to persons on their birthday, on the day of their marriage, aiiU on the birth of their children. » Initiate him) — Ver. 49. It is not known what initiation is here referred to. ^ladame Dacier thinks it was an initi:ition into the great mysteries of Ceres, which was commonly performed while children were yet verj- young; others suggest that it means the period of weaning the child, and initiating it into the use of another kind of diet. Donatus says, that Varro speaks of chililrou being initiated into the mysteries of the Deities Kdulia, Potica, and Cuba, the Divinities of Eating, Drinking, •nil Sleeping. Sc. IL THE SCHEMING rAlUSlTE, 307 Scene 1 1. Entn" Geta, fi-om the house of Demipro. Ci'eta. {at the door, to those ivithin.) If any red-haired mau •IkhiKI oiuiniro for me l\\v. (stepping fonrard.) Ifcro he is, say no more. CJeta. {start iii/j.) OJi ! Why I was trying to come and meet you. Davus. Dav. {i/iriiii/ the vionei/ to Geta.) Here, take it; it's all ready counted out;' the number just amounts to the sum I owed you. Geta. I am oMifjed to you; and I return you thanks for not ha\-in£j forj^otten me. Dav. E.specially as people's ways are now-a-days; things nre come to sucli a pass, if a pei^son rejiays you anytliing, 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 trustwor- thiness you have experienced as to money, are you afraid to entrust with words? In what way have I any interest in deceiving you ? Geta. Well then, listen. Dav. I give you my best attcntipn. Geta. Duvus, do you know Chremes, the elder brother of our old gt-ntleman ? "^ Dav. Why should I not ? Geta. Well, and his son Phiedria ? Dav. As well as your own self. Geta. It so happened to both the old gentlemen, just a*, the same period, that the one had to take a journey to Lemno.s, and our old man to Cilicia, to sec an old acquaint- ance; he tempted over the old man by letters, promismg him all but mountains of gold. ' Rfodti counffd out^ — Vcr. 5^. "Lcctum." literally " picked out" tr "chobcn" — the coins being of full weight. x2 308 PHORMio; OR, Act I. Dav. To one who had so much property, that he ha J more than he could use ? Geta. Do have done; that is his way. Dav. Oh, as for that, I realli/ ouglit 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 undei-took a hard task there. Geta. I came to experience it, I know that. I'm quite «ure that I was forsaken by my good Genius, who must have lieen angry with me.^ 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.* 1 began to do everything for them that they wished to be humoured in. Dav. You knew how to make your market.' Geta. Our young felloic did no mischief whatever at first ; that Phsedria 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. Thero remained nothing for him then but to feed his eyes, to follow her about, to escort her to the school,* 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 ' Have been ayirjry tuith me) — Ver. 74. He alludes to the common belief that each person had a Genius or Guardian Deity; and that when misfortune overtook him, he had been abiuidoned by liis Genius. - Kick against the spur^ — Ver. 78. " To kick against the pricks," or "in spite of the spur," vas a common Greek proverb. The expression occurs in the New Testament, Acts i.\. 5. " It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks." ^ To make yoxr rnarl-ff) — Ycr. 79. Tliis is a metaphorical expression laken from tnilhc, in wiiich merchants suit themselves to the times, and fix a price on their commodities, according to the course of the market. ■• To tJie school)— \cr. 86. It was the custom for the "lenones," or "procurers," to send their female slaves to music-schools, in order to learn accomplishments. 8o in the Prologue to the Kudens of Plautus : '■ 'I'his Piocurer brought the maiden to Cyrene hither. A certain Athenian youth, a citi/en of this city, beheld her as she was going homo from the music-school." So. (T. THE SCHEMING PARASITE. 309 j'laoe, tht're wks a certain harliir's slioji : here wo wt-ro piH'i-ally in the hahit of waitii>i^ for her, until she wan rouuii'4 lionie aijain. In the nieantiiue, while otw ihiii wo weiv sittinii there, there came in a ynuni^ man in teal's;' we were surprised at this. We enquired what was tlie matter ? "Never," said he, "'has poverty apjieareil to me a hurdeu so grievotjs and so insuj^portahle as just now. I have jus*; seen a certain poor young woman in this neii^hliourhood lamenting her ileail mother. iShe wa.s laid out before her, and not a single friend, acquaintance, or relation was there with her, exeejtt one poor old woman, to assist her in the funerd : 1 pitied her. The girl hei"st'lf wiis of sui-pa.ssing beauty." What need of a long story? She moved us all. At onco Antipho vxchiims, " Would you like us to go and visit her r ' The other sniJ, " I think we ought — let us go — show us the way, please." We went, and arrived there; we saw lier; the girl was beautiful, and that you might say so the more, there was no heightening to her beauty; her hair dishevelled, her feet bare, herself neglected, and in tears; her ili"e.ss mean, so that, had there not been an excess of beauty in her very charms, those circumstances must have extin- guished those charms. The one who had lately fallen in love with the Music-girl said: "She is well enough;" but our yovth Da v. I know it already — fell in love with her. Geta. Can you imagine to what an extent ? Observe the consequence. The da}' after, he goes straight to the oKl 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 }>aients : that if hf 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 t/oidh was at a loss what to do. He was both eager to marry her, and he dreaded hjs absent father. ' Ymmg man in tears)— \cr. 92. In the Play of ApoUodoni.s, it w;i3 the barlier himself that gave the account how he hud ju.^t returned from cullin;,' off the young woman's hair, which was one ot the usual ccrcm'> nies in mourning among the Greckfl. Donatu.s remarks, tliat Terence altered tiiis circumstance that he might not sliock a Koman audienco b\ a rulereuce to luanuers ao JiilcruiiL Irum t-L-'i" owu. 310 pnoRjno; or, Act I. Day. Would not his father, if he had returned, have given him \eiivef Geta. He let him marry a girl with no fortune, and of obscure birth ! He would never do so. Dav. What came oi 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 oi-phan girls are to marry those who are their next-of-kin; and the same law commands such liersons to many them. I'll say you are the next-oi-kin, and take out a summons^ against you; I'll pretend that I am a friend ol the girl's father; we will come betore 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 tirmness. Dav. You please me; well, that is the duty ol 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 : *• I'r-ay, do forgive him this time; but if after this he does anything. I make no entreaty:" if only he doesn't add, "When I've gone, e'en kill him for mi/ part." Pa v. What of the one who was usher to the Music-girl r ' • Take out a summons) — Ver. 127. "Dica" was the writ or sum- mons with which an action at law was commenced. - Utihei- to the Musk-'jirl) — Ver. 144. This is said satirically of So. TTT. THE SniEMTNO rAKASITR. 311 CiETA. (shnttjffini/ his shouJilirs.) So so, l»ut poorly. 1)av. l\rli;iiis \\v hasn't much to tjive. (tKTA. Wliy, ivully, iiotluiii; at all, fxcopt nit-rc hoi)os. Dav. Is his father come back or not ? (iirTA. Not yet. Dav. Well, when do you expect yonr old man ? (.rVTTA. I don't know for certain , Init I just now hcsird that a letter has been broujjht from him, and has been lelt with the officers of tlie customs*. I'm goiu2f to fetch it. Dav. Is there anything else that you want with me, Geta ? Geta Nothing, hut that I wish you well. {Exit Davus. ) Hark yon, boy {caUinrj at the door). Is nobody coming out here ? {A Lad comes out ) Take this, and give it to Dorciuui. {lie givcg the purse to the Lad, who carries it into DEMiriio'3 house, and exit Geta.) Scene III. Enter Antipho and Ph.edria. Ant. That things should have come to such a pass, Phse- dria, that I should be in utter dread of my father, wlio 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. Ph.ed. 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 mine kept ti seorot. If siu-h a ivsult is not mlroitly unanlcil against, these mattoi's will cause the ruin of niysolf, ur of my iiuLsti r. Ant. {(o riLtuJiiiA.) Why, I wonder, is he comini; in such a friiiht ? CJct.\. (to himself.) Besides, I've but a moment left for this matter — my master's close at hand. A.NT. {to ru.ElMiiA.) What mi.s(hief is this? Get.v. {to himsflf.) When he comes to hear of it, what remedy shall I discover for liis amj^er? Am I to speak? I shall irritate him: be silent? I shall provoke him: excuso ^myself r I should be wa.shin^ a brickbat.* 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; fi>r liail it not been for him. I should have made due provision for my safety, ami have taken ven- geance on the old man for liis cmbbedness; I should have scniped up something, and straightway taken to my heels away I'rom here Ant. {to Pu.EDRiA.) I wonder what running away or theft it is that he's planning. (JFrr.\. (A ) t it i/ i ) But where shall I find Antipho, or which way go look for him ? I'li.ED. {to Antitiio.) He's mentioning your name. Ant. {to PH.fiDRiA.) I know not what great misfortune I expect to hear from this messenger. Th-CD. {to Antipho.) Why, are you in your senses ? Gcta. (to himself.) FU make my way homewards; he's irenerally there. Ph.fj). (to Antipho.) Let'* call the fellow back. Ant. (callinq out.) Stop, this instant. Gkt.v. (turning round.) Heyday — with authority enough, whoever you are. Ant. Ueta! Geta. The very person I wanted to find. ' Be va.^hiu(j a brickbat) — Vcr. 1S7. " Ijatercm lavare," "to w.^-h a trick," or "tile, " wxs a proverb simiilyiiii? labour iu vain, probably because (If the brick was previously baked; it was impossible to wa.-'y way of reinforcement, if you give ground at all. PuJiD. Very weiL {Tliey retire to a distance.) ^ Here in Tf serve)— Yer. 2^0. "Succcnturiatus." The "Hncy-cntu- riiti" were, properly, men entrusted to fill up vacancies iu the ccaluriea or compauicd, wbca ihiimcd Ly buule. 316 PHORMIOj OR, Act L Scene VI. Enter DEJiipno, at the other side of the stage, Dem. {to himsrlf.) And is it possible that Antipho has taken a wife without my consent ? and that no aiithority of mine — but let alone "authority"^ — no disjjltasui-e of mine, at all events, has he been in dread of:' To have no sense of' shame ! audacious conduct ! O Geta, rare adviser ! Geta. {apart to Ph.edkia.) Just hrourfht in at last. Dem. What %vill they say to me, or what excuse will they find ? I wonder much. Geta. {apart.) Why, I've found that out ah-eady; do tliink of something else. Dem. Will he be saying this to me : " 1 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 liis adversaries — did the law oblige him to do that as well ? Geta. {apart.) That is a hard blom. Ph^d. 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 behef, lias this befallen me. So enraged am I, that I cannot compose my mind to think npoa it. Wherefore it is the duty of all persons, when aflairs are the ■most prosperous,* then in especial to reflect within themselvt s in what way they are to endure adversity. Returning from abroad, let him always picture to himself dangers and losses. either ofiences committed by a son, or the death of his wife, nr the sickness of a daughter, — that these things are the couimdii lot, so tiiat 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. * Let alone "authoritij") — Ver. 232. "Ac mitto imperium." Cicero Has quoted tliis pas^suge in his Epistles to Atticus, B. ii. Ep. 19. " When affairs ore the most prof!}ieroit.'<) — Vcr. 241 Cicero quotes this passage in tiie Third Book of his Tiiscidan Questions, and tlie maiiin here inculcated was a favourite one with the Stoic philosophers. Sc. VI THE SCHEMING PAKASITr. .T 1 7 jETA. (apart.) PhaMlria, it is incn'^•^'n iili-fddi/ calfulatoil upon liy mo, upon my masti-r i-omini; Iiduiu. I must tjrinil at tlio mill, be liiatiii, woar ftttrrs, l>o set to j work in the fields ; not one individual thiiiuj of these will 1 ha|ipen unexpectetl by my mind. Whatever falls out beyiiu a tine marriage in my absence. Piled. What now. are you angry with him for that ? Get.\. {apart.) What a clever contriver ! Peuh. Have I not reason to be angry with hira ? 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 I a most severe one. Ph.ed. But he has done nothing, uncle, for which you I should blame him. ; Dtai. Now, do look at that; all afike; all hanging together; I whm you know one, you know all. j Piled. That is not the case. \ ^)k.m. When the one is fn fault, the other is at hand to defend him; when it is the other, then he is reaily ; they . ;«*/ help one another V)y turns. Geta. (apart.) The old man, without knowing it, hm* ' exactly described their proceedings. Dem. For if it had not been so, you would not, Phaedria, ' ]".vc stoo. If, uncle, it is the fact, that Antipho has beea /• / u^ 318 PHORsno; OR, Act I. guilty of any fault, in consequence of which he has been too reffardless of his interest or his reputation, I "would not allege any reason why he should not sufl'er what he deserves. But if some one by chance, relying iipon 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 i-ights, when you yourself don't answer a word — as he has done ? Ph.^d. 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 returnel. Dem. {ironicalli/.) Ah, excellent guartlian ! save you, stay ot my family, no doubt, to whom, at my departure, I entrusted my son. Geta. For some minutes past I've heard you accusing all of us undeservedly; and me the most undeservedly of tnem aU; for what would you have had me do for you in this afiair ? The laws do not allow a person who is a slave to plead; nor is there any giving evidence^ on his jiart. Dem. I grant all that: I admit this too — the young man, unused to courts, was bashful; I allow it: you, too, are a slave: still, if she was ever so near a relative, it was not necessary for him to marry her, but as the law enjoins, you might have given her a poi-tion;^ she could have looked out for another husl)and. Why, then, in preference, did he bring a pauper home ? ' Any giving cfjrf?Mfe)— Yer. 203. Slaves were neither allowed to plead for themselves, nor to give evidence. See the Curculio of Tlautus, 1. 621, and the Notes to the Andria. * Given her a portion) — Vcr. 297. By this remark, Donatus observes that Terence arttiilly prepares ns for the imposition of I'hormio, who extorts money from the old gentleman on this very ground. 1 S<- ^ 11 Tin: sciiEMiNO parvsitr. 319 Gkta. "So porficiiliu- reason ; Imt lio lunln't the monoy. Pkm. IIo niiL;ht hiivo bormwod it IVoni soino jici-sou or oHuT. Ctvrrx. From some person or othor r Nothing more easily Slilii. Dkm. After all, if on no other terms, on interest. teads, in L 933, that he is going to otler sacrifice for Im tiaie ruturu. 320 PHORsno; OK, Act IL mon some of my frieuds to give me their assistance in this alYair ; so that I may not be unprepared, when Phormio comes. (Goes into his house.) ACT THE SECOND. Scene L I^nter Phormio and Geta. Phor. And so you say^ that dreading his father's pre- sence, he has taken himself off ? Geta. Exactly so. Phor. That Phaniirm is left alone ? Geta. Just so. Phor. And that the old man is in a rage ? Geta. Extremely so. Phor. The whole b\isiness, Phormio, rests on yourself alone; you yourself have hashed it up;' it must all bo swallowed by yourself, so set about it. Geta. I entreat you Phor. (to himself.) If he enquires. Geta. In you is all our hope. Phor. {to himself.) Look at this, now: — WTiat if he sends her back ? Geta. It was you that urged us. ' And so you fiai/) — Ver. 315. Donatus tells the followinsr story with reference to this pass:v2:e : " This Play heing once rehearsed before Terence and some of his most intimate acquaintances, Ambivius, who acted the part of Phormio, came in drunk, which threw tlie author into a violent passion; but Ambivius had scarcely repeated a few lines, Btammering and scratching his bend, before Terence became pacified, declaring that when he was writing these very lines, he had e.xactly Buch a Parasite as Ambivius then represented, in his thoughts." - Hare hashed it vp) — Vcr. 318. He is thought to allude here, figuratively, to the composition of a dish called " moretum," (in praise of which Virgil wrote a pncni), which was composed of garlic, onions, cheese, eggs, and other ingredients, beaten up in a mortar. The allusion to ersons, out of whom anything can be got, there's risk from others; they know that I've got nothing. You will say: "They will tak3 you,* when sentenced, into their house;" they have no wish to maintain a devouring fellow; and, in my opinion, they are wi.se, if for an injury they are unwiUing to return the highest benefit. ' Turn upon vu/'fel/) — Ver. 323. Donatus observes that in this Scene, Terence eihibiU the lower order -6f Parasites, who ingnitiatt>i themselves by sharping and roguer}-, as in the Eiinuchus he dcsorilic!) Parasites of a higher mnk, and of a newer species, who obtained tlicir ends by flattery. - In (he stocks at last) — Ver. 325. " In nervum crumpat denique." There are several interpretations siie;ge.='ed for tlicse words. Some think tliey allude to the drawing of a b^w till it breaks; but they are more generally thought to imply terminstion in corporal punishment. *' Nenr'us" is supposed to have been the name of a kind of stocks tuscd in torturing slaves, and so called from being formed, in part at least, of the sinews ol animals. * Tfiey tcill taL-e you)— Ycr. 3Zi. At Rome, insolvent debtors became the olnvcti of their creditors till their debts were paid. Y 322 KflOKMiO; OR, Act H Geta. It's impossible that sufficient thanks can be returued you by him for your kindness. Phor. Why no ; no person can return thanks sufficient to his patron^ for his kindness. For you to take jour place at table at free cost,'' anointed and just washed at the bath, with your mind at ease, whereas he is devoured with the care and expense : while everything is being done to give you delight, he is being vexed at heart; you are laughing away, first to drink,' take the higher place; a banquet full of doubts* is placed before you Geta. What is the meaning of that expression ? Phor. When you are in doubt which in especial to partake of When you enter upon a consideration how delicious these things are, and how costly they are, the person who provides them, must you not account him a very God — neither more nor less ? Geta. The old man is coming ; take care what you are about; the first onset is the fiercest; if you stand that, then, afterwards, you may play just as you please. (They retire to a distance^ Scene II. Enter, at a distance, Demipho, Hegio, Cratinus, and Crito, following him. Dem. Well now — did you ever hear af an injury being done to any person in a more affronting manner than this has to me ? Assist me, I do beg of you. Geta. {apart.) He's in a passion. ' To his patron) — Ver. 338. "Regi." The Parasites were in the habit of calling their patron " Rex," their "King." * At free cost)— Yer. 339. " Asymbolum." Without having paid his "symbola," or "club," for the entertainment. Donatus informs ns that the whole of this passage is borrowed from one of Eiinius, which is Ktill preserved. ^ First to drink) — Ver. 342. To be the first to drink, and to take the higher place on the couch when eating, was the privilege of the most honoured guests, who usually bathed, and were then anointed before the repast. ■' Banqxiet full of donhts) — Ver. 342. "Cocna dubia." Horace, whj borrows many of hi« phrases from Terence, uses the same expression. 1 Sc. II. THE SCnEMINO PARASITE. 32S PiiOR. (apart.) Do you mind your cue; I'll ronso liim just now. (Steppinr; forward and cn/ing aloud.) Oh iminortjil CJoils! aoea Dcmipho deny that riuuiium here is related to him ? Get.^. He does deny it. Dem. {(o his frirnd.t.) I believe it is the very man I was speaking about. Follow rae. {They all comcforu-ard.) PliOR. {to Geta.) And that he knows who her father was? Geta. He docs deny it. PiiOR And that he knows who Stilpho was? Geta. He does deny it. PnOR. Because the jmor thini; was left destitute, her lather 18 disowned; she hei-self is slighted: see what avarice does. Geta. {in a loud voice.) If you are going to accuse my master of avarice, you shall hear what you won't like. Dem. Oh. the impudence of the fellow ! Does he come on purpose to accuse me ? Phor. For really, I have no reason why I slioidd be offended at the young man, if he did not know him ; since that person, when growing aged and poor, and supporting him- self by his labour, genei^ally confined himself to the country; there he had a piece of land from my father to cultivate; full oft, in the meantime, did the old man tell me that this ki nsm.-xn of his neglected him : but what a man ? The very best I ever saw in all my life. Geta. {in a loud voice.) Look to yourself as well as to him, how you speak. Phor. {with affected indignation.) A^ay, to utter perdition, viith you. For if I had not formed such an opinion t>f him, I should never have incurred such enfiiity with your family on her account, whom he now slights in such an ungenerous manner. Geta. (aloud.) What, do you persist in speaking abusively of my master in his absence, you most abominable fellow ? PuoR. Why, it's ju.iu-k ius from eranKM. Very likely what you say. In that ca.s«', wlu-n I had undertaken it, I .should have shown how she was wlated to me ; tlo yo>i do the sjune: tell me, how is she related to me ? (Jct.x.. \\'ell done, my wiK-M. Well! am I asking anything unfair? Or am I not to obtain even this, which is my right at cor:.mon law ? Phor. Pray, really is it so, that when you have abused her like a courtesan, the law onlers jou to jiay her hire and ' pack her oti' ? Or is it the fact, that in order that a citizen I may bring r.o di.sgrace ui)on herself through poverty, she has Ven ordered to be given to her nearest relative, to pass her life with him alone ? A thing which you mean to prevent. Dem Yes, to her nearest relative, indeed; but why to us, or on what ground ? i Phor. Well, well, a thing tried, they say, you can't try i over again. i Dem. Not try it ? On tTie contrary, I shall not desist \ until I have gone through with it. (Phor. You are trilling. Dem. Only let me alone for that. ' Since ymi reir/n alone) — Ver. 60.'). This is a remark well pnt into I the mouth of an .\thenian, as the puhlic were vtry jealous of any pcreon . becoming paramount to the law.s, and to prevent it, wore frequently ' gwltj of the mo«t odious oppreswion. S26 PHORMio ; OR, Act 11. Phor. In short, Demipho, I have nothing to do with you; your son has been cast, and not you; for your time of life for marr}'ing has now gone by. Dem. Consider that it is he that says to you all I now say, or else assuredly, together with this wife of his, I'll be forbidding him the house. Get A. (aside.) He's in a passion. Phor. You'll be acting more considerately. Dem. Are you so resolved, you unlucky fellow, to do me all the mischief you can ? PnoR. (aside, to Geta.) He's afiraid of us, although he's so careful to conceal it. Geta. (aside, to Phormio.) Your beginning has turned out well. Phor. But if, on the contrary, you endure what must be endured, you'll be doing what's worthy of you, so that wi may be on friendly terms. Dem. (indignantly.) What, I seek your friendship, or hav€ any wish to see or hear you ? Phor. If you can agree with her, you will have some ont to cheer up your old age ; just consider your time of life. Dem. Let her cheer up yourself; keep her to yourself. Phor. Really, do modex'ate your passion. Dem. Mark what I say. There have been words enougl already ; if you don't make haste to fetch away the woman I shall turn her out : I have said it, Phormio. Phoh. If you use her in any other manner than is befittin; a free-born woman, I shall be bringing a swmge'ng actioi against you; I have said it, Demipho. (To Geta.) Hark you if there should be any occasion for me, I shall be at liome. Qeta. (ajpart.) I understand you. (Exit Pnoiaiio. Scene III. Demipho, Hegio, Cratinus, Crito, and Geta. Dem. What care and anxiety my son does bring upon mi by entangling himself and me in this same marriage ! An he doesn't so much as come into my sight, tliat at least might know what he says about this matter, or what hi S III. TlIK 30HEMIN0 PARASITB. 327 . iitiments are. {To Gftta.) Bo ofl* go scoi whether he hx* rcturneil homo or not by tliis. CJcta. 1 will, {(fot's into the house.) Dkm. {to the Assistants.) You see how the cnae standa, NVhivt Jim I to do? Tell wf. lle^io. IIku. Wh;it, I ? I think Cratiuus ought, if it seems good io you. Dem. Tell me, Cratinus. Cr.\T. What, do you wi.sh me to sjuak ? I should liku you to do what is most for your advantage, it is my opinion, that what this sou of yours has douo m your abseuce, in law and justice ouijht to bo annulled; and that you'll dbtaiu ri'divss. That's my opinion. Deim. Siiy now, He^'io. Heo. I believe that he has spoken with due deliberation ; but it is the fact, "as many men, so many minds;"' eveiy one his own way. It doesn't apjxar to me that what has be«'n done by law can be revoked; and it is wrong to attempt it. Dem. Speak, Crito. Crit. I am of opinion, that we must deliberate further;' it is a matter of importance. Heg. Do you want anything further with us ? Dem. You have done very well. {Exeunt Assistants.) I am much more at a loss' than before. ' So many minds) — Vcr. 454. " Quot homines, tot sentcntise." Tliis is a famous adage. One eimilar to the siici-ccding one is luund in the Second Eclogue of Virgil, 1. 05 : " Traiiit .sua quemque voluptaa, exactly equivalent to our saying, " Every man to his taste." - Mu4t tie! (berate further) — Ver. 457. "Amplius deliberandum. This is probably a satirical allusion to the judicial system of procra.-ti- nation, which, by the Uomans, wa.s caTTed "ampliutio." When the judges could not come to a satisfactory conclusion about a cause, they signified it by the letters N. L. (for " non liquet," "it is not clear"), and put ofl the suit for a reheacing. * Much more at a lo^s) — Ver. 459. See the Pocnulus of Plautus, where advocates or assistants are introduced among the Dramatis Persona}. Culman has the following remarks on this quaint pa-.sai;e : " I believe there it no Scene in Comedy moro highly seasoned with the ridiculoui than thus before us. The idea is truly comic, and it is worked up with a»I that simplicity and cha-stity so peculiar to the manner of Terence. Au ordioar}- writer would have imiulged himself in twinty little conceita on this occasion; but the dry gnivity of Terence infinitely Kurj)a.s.-*os, as true L amour, all the drolleries which, perhaps, even those great munittn 328 PHORino: or, Act II. Re-enter Geta, from the house. Geta. They say that he has not come back. Dem. I must wait for my brother. The advice that he gives me about this matter, I shall follow. I'll go make enquiry at the harbour, when he is to come back. {Exit. Geta. And I'll go look for Antipho, that he may learn what has passed here. But look, I see him coming this way, j ust in the very nick of time. Scene IV. Enter Antipho, at a distance. Ant. {to himself.) Indeed, Antipho, in many ■vrays you are to be blamed for these feelingsj to have thus run away, and entrusted your existence to the protection of other people. Did you suppose that others would give more attention to your mterests than your owTi self? For, however other matters stood, certainly you should have thought of her whom you have now at home, that she might not suffer any harm in consequence of her contidiug in you, whose hopes and resources, poor thing, are all now centred in yourself alone. Geta. {coming forward.) Wliy really, master, we have for some time been censuring you here in your absence, for having thus gone away. Ant. You are the very person I was looking for. Geta. But stdl, we were not a bit the more remiss on that account. Ant. Tell me, I beg of you, ui what posture arc my interests and fortunes. Has my father any suspicion ? Geta. Not any at present. Ant. Is there still any hope ? Geta. I don't know. Ant. Alas ! of Comedy, Plautus or ^^oli^re, might have been tempted to throw out. It is the highest art of a Dramatic Author, ou some occasious, to leave a good deal to the Actor; and it lias been remarked by Heinsius aud others, that Terence was particularly attentive to this circumstance." Sr V. Tlir SCUKMING PARASITE. .?20 Ci LTA. But riuedria has not neglected to use his cndeavoure in your luhult'. Ant. lie did notliinij new. CiCTA. Tlien Phorniio, too, in this matter, just as in cvery- thini; else, showed himself a man ol" energy. Ant. What did he do ? Geta. With his words he silenced the old man, who was ver}' angiy. Ant. Well done, Phormio ! Geta. I. too, le to serve hinu Geta. What can 1 do ? Ant. rr<.K'ui"e the nionoy. GjrTA. I wish I could; but whore it is to come from — t«ll rue that. A ST. My father has come home. (.Jeta. I know; hut what of that ? Ant. Oh, a word to the wise' is quite enough. Get.v Is that it, then ? A N'T. Just so. e heartily glad, if I meet with no mishap through your marriage, hut what, in addi- tion to that, you must now hid me, for his siike, to be seeking risk upm risk ? Ant. 'Tis tnie what he says. Ph.f.d. ^^'^lat ! am I a stranger to you, Geta ? Get.\.. I don't consider ijon so. But is it so trifling a mat- ter that the old gentleman is now vexed with us all, that we must provoke him still more, and leave no room for entreaty ? Ph.ed. Is another man to take her away from before my eyes to some unknown spot ? Alas ! speak to me then, .\ntipho, and look upon me while you have the opportunity, aid while I'm present. Ant. Why so, or what are you going to do ? Pray, tell me. Ph.ed. To whatever part of the world she is borne away, Fm determined to follow her or to perish. Geta. May the Gods prospeiryour design! Cautiously'3 ") 'he tcord, however. Ant. {to Geta.) Do see if you can give him any assistaucp at all. GjTfA. Any at all — how ? Ant. Pray, do try, that he mayn't be doing .something that we may afterwards be more or le.ss soin' for. Geta. Geta. I'm considering. {lie pauses.) He's all safe, so far Rs I can guess: but still, I'm afraid of mischief. ' A vord to the in'jte) — Ver. 540 " Pictiim mpicnti sat cat," The Miuie proverb u found in the I'cna of riautus, 1. 73d. 334 PHORMio; OR, Act TIL Ant. Don't be afraid : together -witli you, well share good a7id bad. Get A. (to Ph^bria.) How much money do you want ? Tell me. Ph^d. Only thirty minse. Get A. Thh'ty ? Heyday ! she's monstrous dear, Phsedria. Ph^d. Indeed, she's very cheap. Geta. Well, well, I'll get them for you. Pn^D. Oh the dear man ! {They both fall to hugging Geta.) Geta. Take yourselves off. (Shales them of.) PhjED. There's need for them directly. Geta. You shall have them directly ; but I must have Phormio for my assistant m this business. Ant. He's quite ready; right boldly lay on him any load you like, he'll bear it : he, in especial, is a friend to his friend. Geta. Let's go to him at once then. Ant. Will you have any occasion for my assistance ? Geta. None; but be off home, and comfort that poor thing, who I am sure is now in-doors almost dead with fear. Do you linger ? Ant. There's notliing I could do with so much pleasure. (Goes into the house of Demipho.) Ph^ed. What way will you manage this ? Geta. I'll tell you on the road; first thing, betake yourse'* off {Exeunt ACT THE THIRD Scene I. Enter Demipho and Chremes. Dem. Well, have you brought your daughter with you, Chremes, for whom you went to Lemnos ? Chrem. No. Dem. Why not ? Chrem. When her mother found that I stayed here longer Chun usual^ and at the same time the age of the girl did not P- IT. THE SCHEMINO PARASITB. 3,1.'5 jniit witli my ilolay.", tiny tolil ino that slu-, with all lur family, sot Diit in .stjuvh ot" nic 1)km. rniy, tlu'ii, wliy ilid you stay there so long, \vlu«u you hat! hoanl of this ? CuKKM. Why. faith, a malady detnlnetl me. Dkm. Fn>m what cause ? Or what ica,s it / Chrem. Do you ask me? Old ape itself is a malady. I lowi'ver, I heard that thi-y had arrived sale, from the captiiin who brought them. DvM. Have you heard, Chremes, what has happened to my son. in my absence ? Chrem. Tis that, in fact, that has emharr.issed me in my plans. For if I otl'er my dauLjhter in marriai^e to any person thdts a stranijer, it must all he told how and by whom I had her. You I knew to be fully as faithful to me as I am to myself; if a sti-anijer shall think fit to be connected with me by marriage, he will hold his tongue, just as long as good terms exist between us: but if he takes a dislike to me, he'll be knowing more than it's proper he should know. I am afraid, too, lest my wife should, by some means, come to know of it ; if that is the ca.se, it onli/ remains for me to shake myself and leave the house; for I'm the only one I can rely on at home.* Dem. I know it is so, and that circumstance is a cause of anxiety to me; and I shall never cease trying, until I've made good what I promised you. SCE^B 11. Enter Geta, on the other side of. the stage, not seeing Demipuo or Chkemes. Geta. (Jo himself.) I never saw a more cunning fellow •'■an this Phormio. I came to the fellow to tell him that ' To shake myself) — Vcr. 685. "Mc excutiam." In reference to ■ cu!«toui of the Greeks, and the Eastern nations, of shaking their ■ thcs at the door of any house which they were going to leave. - y»'f7y I'H at home)— Vcr. iife'j. " Nam eco niconim solus sum meua." lie mcan.s that he is the only person in his house friendly to liimself, isniiich as his wife, from her wealth, has supremo power over '.he t. I im»lei*staml. CJjTTA. It set.'mec tiuiit ; I'll frivo it: (I»> y.ni only Inin.; your smi ti» marry tlie woman wo wunt him /o /mn: Ant. {ttfxirt.) Ah me! Gcta, you havo ruiiud mo l>y yimr tivftduiy. Chkksi. Tis on my account she's tuninl -ilV; it'.s rii,'Iit th.it I shou'ul li»>ar the loss. (•KTA. '"Take cai*o ami let mc know," said he, '"a-s .suou as |H5ssil>le, ii they iire sjoint; to let me have her, that I may pet rid of the other, so that I mayn't be in doubt ; tor the others have ftinved to pay me down the portion directly." CiiRKM. Let him have her at once; let him give notice to them that he bre;dcs otF the match iciih the ui.'icr, and let him marr)' this woman. Dkm. Yes, and little joy to him of the bargain ! CuiiEM. Luekily, too. I've now brought hoiiie some money with me. the rents which my wile's farms at Lemnos pro- duce. I'll take it out of that, and tell my wife that vou had occasion for it. {T/ici/ i/o into the house y/"CilKE.MES.) Scene IV. AsTiPiio and Grrr.'C AxT. {coming forward.) Geta. Get.v Well. Ant. Wliat have you been doing? Geta. Diddling the old fellows out of their money. Ant. Is that quite the thmg "r* "• Geta. I' faith, I don't know : it^ just what I was told to do. Ant. How now, whip-scoundrel, do you give me an answer to what I don't ask you 'i {Kirks him.) Geta. What was it then that you did a.sk ? Ant. What was it I did ask 'i Through your agency, mat- ' tors have most undoubtedly come to the pass that I may iro h.uig myself. ^lay then all the Gods, Goddesses, Dcitie> al>ove and below, with every evil confound you I Look now. if you wi.sh anything to sueceed, entnist it to him who may I bring you from smooth water on to a rock. What was there less advantageous than to touch iipon this sore, or to nana' 3-10 PHORMIO; OR, Act III. my wife ? Hopes have been excited in my father that cshe may possibly be got rid of Pray now, tell me, suppose Phormio receives the portion, she must be taken home hy him as his wife : what's to become of me ? Geta. But he's not going to marry her. Ant. I know that. But {ironiculhj) when they demand the money back, of course, for our sake, he'll prefer going to prison. Geta. There is nothing, Antipho, but what it may be made worse by being badly told : you leave out what is good, and you mention the bad. Now then, hear the other side : if he receives the money, she must be taken ai> his -wife, you say; I grant you; still, some time at least will be allowed for ])reparing for the nuptials, for inviting, and for sacrificing. In the meantime, I^hudria's friends will advance what they have promised; out oi that he will repay it. Ant. On what grounds ? Or what will he say ? Geta. Do you ask the question ? " How many circum- stances, since then, have befallen me as prodigies ? A strange black dog^ entered the house; a snake came down trom the tiles through the skylight;* a hen crowed;^ the soothsayer forbade it; the diviner* warned me not: besides, before winter there is no sufficient reason for me to commence upon any new undertaking." This will be the case. Ant. I only wish it may be the case. Geta. It shall be the case; trust me for that. Yowr fathers coming out; go tell Phtedria that the money is found. ' A strange black dog) — Ver. 705. This omen, Plautus calls, in the Casina. 1. 937. "canina scseva." - Through tlie shjlight) — Ver. 706. So in the Amphitryon of Plautus, 1.1108, two great snakes come down through the '• i-mphivium," or "skylight." On the subject oi the "impluvium," see the Notes to the Miles Gloriosua ol' Plautus, 1. 159. ^ A hen crowed) — Yer. 707. Donatus tells us that it was a saying, that in the house where a hen crowed, the wife had the upper hand. ^ The mtdhsatjcr — the diviner) — Yer. 70S. According to some accounts there »as this diOerence between the '"hariolus" and the '"aruspex," that ilie former foretold human events, the latter those relating to the Deities. Donatus has remarked on these passages, that Terence seems to sneer at tue superstiL-lons referred to. Sc. V. Tin: sciiKJiiNu I'AUAsuu Ji; Scene V. Enter Demtpho nnd Ciikkmes, from the Jionse of the latter, the former with a purse of money. Dem. Do be qiiiot, I tell you ; I'll take care ho shall not bo phiyinij any trioks upon us. I'll not rashly part with this without haviuLf my Avitncsses; I'll have it stated to whom I pay it, and for what purpose I pay it. Geta. (apart.) How cautious he is, when there's no need for it ! Chrem. Wliy yes, you had need do so, and with all haste, while the fit is upon him; for if this other woman shall prove more pressiuLr, perhajis he may throw us over. Geta. You've hit upon the very thing. Dem. Lead me to him then. Geta. I won't delay. CiiREM. (to Demipiio.) Wlien you've done so, go over to my wife, that she may call upon her before she goes away. She must tell her that we are going to give her in marriage to Phormio, that she may not be angry with us ; and that he is a fitter match for her, as knowing more of her; that we have in no way departed from our duty ; that as much has been given for a portion as he asked for. Dem. What the jdague does that matter to you ? CiiREiM. A gi'eat deal, Demipho. It is not enough for you to ('.o your duty, if common repoi-t does not approve of it ; T wish all this to be done with her wvn sanction as well, that she mayn't be saying that she has been turned out of doors. Dem I can do all that myself ^ CuREM. It will come better from one woman to another. Dem. I'll ask her. {Goes into the house of Chremes; ami 'xit Geta.) Chrem. {to himself.) Tm thinking where I can find them T.» ' Can find them noto) — Vcr. 726. His Lcmnian wife and d.'iu;jhter. Colman remarks : " This is intended as a tranrfition to the next S^-ene ; lint I think it would have been Letter if it ii.id followed without thid kind of introduction. The Scene it.^elf is aKSI. How very foolishly, in fact, wo have iiiaiui;^cil tin; artair with him ! LJcta. If by these means wo can only manage lor him to marry her. Dkm. Is that, then, a matter of (loul>t ? Octa. I' faith. jiiiliriiiLT from what the fellow is, I don't know whether he mightn't chanice his mind. Dkm. How! chanice it indeed "^ Gcta. I don't know : but *• if perhaps," I say. Dk.m. I'll do as my brother advised me, brincf hither his wife, to talk with her. Do you, Geta, co beiore; tell her that Xausistnita is about to visit her. ^Demipho (/oes into the house of Curemes.) Scene II. Get.\, alune. GirrA. The uroney's been got for Pha^drla; it's all hushed about the law-suit ; due care ha.s been taken that she's not to leave for the present. What next, then ? What's to be done ? You are still sticking in the mud. You are jiaying by boiTowing ■} the evil that was at hand, has been put off for a day. The toils are increasing upon you, if you don't look out. Now I'll away home, sind tell Phanium not to be afi-aid of Nausistrata, or his talking.* {Goes into the house of Demipho.) ' Paying by borrowing)— Yer. 779. "Vcrsura solvere," was "to jiay a dcht by borrowing money," and consequently to be no better otF ih.in before. Geta baring, by tlie money lie has procured, freed I'hacdria from all danger of losing his mistres.s, but at the same time '. ving brought Antipho into still greater danger of losing his wife. Or hiji t(tfLing) — \ cr. 782. "Kjiis" here alludes, not to N.iusistrata .t to riiuriuio. Madame Dacier suggests, that it should be "hujus 546 PHORMIO; OE, Act IV. Scene III. Elder Demipho and Nausistrata, from the house of Chremes. Dem. Come now, Nausistrata, after your usual way, manage to keep her in good humour with us, and make her do of her own accord what must be done. Naus. I will. Dem. You are now seconding me with your endeavours, just as you assisted me with your money ^ before. ISTaus. I Avish to do so ; and yet, i' faith, through the fault of my husband, I am less able than I ought to be. Dem. Why so ? Naus. Because, i' faith, he takes such indifferent care of the property that was so industriously acquired by my father ; for from those farms he used regularly to receive two talents of silver yearly; there's an instance, how superior one man is to another. Dem. Two talents, pray ? Naus. Aye, and when things were much worse, two talents even. Dem. AVhew! Naus. What ! does this seem surprising ? Dem. Of course it does. — Naus. I -wish I had been born a man; I'd have she\vn Dem. That I'm quite sure of. Naus. In what Avay Dem. Forbear, pray, that you may be able to do battle with her; lest she, being a young woman, may be more than a match for you. Naus. I'll do as you bid me ; but I see my husband coming out of your house. ' With your money) — Yer. 785. Colman observes: "Alluding to the money borrowed of her to pay Pliormio ; and as Donatus observes in another place, it is admirably contrived, in order to bring about a humorous catastrophe, that Chromes should make use of his wife's moucY on this occasion." ^>c. IV. THE sc::i:mino rAUAsiiE. 347 Scene IV. Enter CllREMES, /ias( III/, from DlCMiriKKs housr. CiiisKM. IIu! Demij)ho, has the uu>uoy hoiMi ii;iiil liiin yet r Dem. I took care immediately. CmiEM. I wish it hadn't been paid him. (On srn'nr/ Nai;- SISTRATA, aside.) Ilallo, I espy my wife; I had almost said more than I ought. Dem. Why do you wish I hadn't, Chremes ? Chkfim. It's all right. Dem. What ,wv you ? Have you been letting her know why we are going to bring her ? {jwintiny tu 2s ausistkata.) CiiuEM. I've arranged it. Dem. Pray, what does she say ? Chrem. She can't be got to leave. DEAf. Why can't she ? Chrem. Because they are fond of one another. Dkm. What's that to us ? CiiREM. {apart, to Demipho.) A great deal; besides that, I've found out that she is related to us. Dem. {apart.) What ? You are mad, .ti/rrli/. Chrem. {apart.) So you wdl find; I don't speak at ran- dom : I've recovered my recollection. Dem. {apart.) Arc you quite in your senses ? Chrem. apart.) Nay, prithee, do take care not to injure your kinswoman. ^ De.m. (apart.) She is not. ^ Chrem. (apart.) Don't deny it; her father went by another name; that was the cause of your mi.stake. DEii. (apart.) Did she notknow who wa-s her father ? Chre.m. (apart.) She did. Dem. (apart.) Why did she call him by another name ? Chrem. (apart, froicning.) Will you never yield to mo. nor understand what I mean ? Dem. (apart.) If you don't tell me of anything Chrem. (impatientlii.) Do you persist ? KaI'S. I wonder what all this can be. Dem. For my yoxi, uj>on my faith, I don't know. 348 PHORMio; OR, Act IV. Chrem. {whispering to Jiim.) Would you like to know ? Then, so may Jupiter preserve me, not a person is there more nearly related to her than are you and I. Dem. {starting.) Ye Gods, by our trust iii you! let's away to her; I wish for all of us, one way or other, to be sure about this {going). Chrem. {stopping Jiim.) Ah! Dem. What's the matter ? Chrem. That you should put st little confidence in me ! Dem. Do you wish me to believe you ? Do you wish me to consider this as quite certain ? Vcrj well, be it so. Well, what's to be done with our friend's^ daaghter ? Chrem. She'll do well enough. Dem. Are we to drop her, then ? Chrem. Why not ? Dem. The other one to stop ? Chrem. Just so. Dem. You may go then, Nausist'.'ata. Naus. r faith, I think it better for all that she should remain here as it is, than as joii Jirst intended; lor she seemed to me a very genteel person when I saw her. ( Goes into her house.) Scene V. Demipuo and Chremes. Dem. What is the meaning of all this ? Chrem. {looking at the door of his house.) Has she shut the door yet ? Dem. Now she has. Chrem. O Jupiter! the Gods do befriend us; I have found that it is my daughter married to your son. Dem. Ha ! How can that possibly be ? Chrem. This spot is not exactly suited for me to tell it 1J0U. Dem. Well then, step in-doors. Chrem. Hark you, I don't wish our sons even to come to know of this. {Thcg go into Demipho's house.) ' Our friend's) — Vcr. 811. Chremes himself is so called, to deceive Nau£istraU. Scene VI. Enter Antipiio. A XT. I'm glad that, however my own afTaira go, my brother has siu-reetleil in liis wislies. How wiso it is ti» cherish desires of tliat nature in tlio mind, that wlien things t run counter, you may easily lind a cure /(»/• thnn ! He Iuls l' Iwth pot the money, and released himself from care; I, by no method, can extrirate niyself from these troubles; on the contrary, if tlie matter is concealed, I am in dread — but if disclosed, in disixi'aee. Neither should I now cjo home, were not a liope still j)resented me of retainini? lier. But where, T wonder, can T find Geta, that I may ask him wlrn oppor- tunity ho would rocumuieud me to take for meeting my father 'i Scene VIT. Enter Piiormio, at a distance. Phor. {to JiinistJj.) I received the money; handed it over »o the Procurer; brought away the woman, that Phajdria might have her as his own — for she has now become free. Now there is one thing still remaining for me to manage, — to get a respite from the old gentlemen for carousing; for I'll enjoy myself the nest few days. Ant. Put here's Phormio. {Going tip to him.) What have you to .>;ay ? ^ PnoiL A))out what ? Ant. W'liy — what's Phredria going to do now ? In what way does he say that he intends to take his fdl of love ? Piioi;. In his turn, he's going to act your 2)art. Ant. \s\vAt part f PiiuR. To nm away from his fjithcr; he begs that you in your return will act on his behalf -to plcail his cause for him. For he's going to carou.se at my house I shall tell the old man that I'm going to Sunium, to the fair, to purcha.se the fiinalo lervant that Geta mentioned a while since, so that, when thev 350 piiOKMio; on, ij Act IV. 5 A./ don't see me here, they mayn't suppose that I'm squandering their money. But there is a noise at the door of your house. Ant. See who's coming out. Phor. It's Geta. Scene VIII. Enter G"eta, at a distance, hastihj, from the house of Demipiio. Geta. {to himself.) O fortune! n-ood hick !^ -with hlessin'rs how great, how suddenly has thou loaded this day with tliy favours to my master Antipho ! Ant. {apart to Phokjiio.) I wonder what it is he means. Geta. {contimdng.) And relieved us, his friends, from alarm; but I'm now delaying, in not thro^^ang my cloak' over my shoulder {throws it over his shoulder), and making haste to find him, that he may know what has happened. Ant. {apart to PllORMlo.) Do you xmderstand what he's talking about ? Phor. {apart to Antipho.) Do you ? Ant. {apart to Phoumio.) Not at all. PuoR. {apart to Antipho.) And I just as much. Geta. {to himself.) I'll be off hence to the Procurer's; they are there just now. {Runs along.) Ant. {calling out.) Hallo ! Geta ! Geta. {still running.) There's for you. Is it anything new or wonderful to be called back, directly you've started r Ant. Geta! Geta. Do you persist ? Troth, you shall not on this occasion get the better of me by your annoyance. Ant. {running after him.) Won't you stop ? Geta. You'll be getting a beating. Ant. A.-^suredly that will befall yourself just now unless you stop, you whip-knave. ' fio' d luck) — Ver. 840. " Fors fortAina," "good fortune;" while "flirt una" merely means "chance." - Throivinri m;/ doa/:) — \ er. 843. When expedition was required, it was usual to throw the ends of the "pallium," or "cloak," over the Bliouldera. Sf. \III. THE SCIIEMINO FWRASITIU ?^,^>\ Gcta. This must bo some one pretty familinr, thrcatonii:;* iiu' with a hoatinjj. {Turns round.) But is it tlie jii'i>t)ii I'nj in search of or not ? 'Tis the very man ! Up to iiim at once. Ant. What's the nuittor ? Geta. O hcini; nlo.>^t Mossed of all men living ! For without question, Antipho, you are the only favourite of the fJmls. Ant. So I couKl wish; but I shouUl like to be told why I'm to believe it is so. Geta. Is it enough if I plvniLje you into a sea of joy ? A>T. You are worrying me to iloath. Phor. Nay but, do have done with your promi.ses and tell us what you bring. Geta. {lookiiv) roilnJ.) Oh, are you here too. Phormio ? " Piioii. I am : but irJn/ do you tlelay ? Geta. Listen, then. When we just now paid you the money at the Forum, we went sti-aight to Chremes; in the meantime, my master sent me to your wife. Ant. What for ? Geta. I'll omit telling you ///(//, as it is nothing to the present purpose, Antipho. Just as I was going to the woman's apartments, the boy Mida came running up to me, and caught me behind by my cloak, and pulled me back; I turned about, and enquired for what reason he stopped me ; he said that it was forbidden for any one to go in to his mistress. ''Sophrona has just now," saiil he, "introduced here Chremes, the old gentleman's brother," and he said that he was then in the room with them : when I heard this, on tip-toe I stole softly along; I came there, stood, held my breath, I applied my ear, and so bcgjin to listen, catchin"- the convei-sation every word in this fashion {sJiotcs them). Ant. Well done, Geta. ^ Get.\. Here I overheard a veiy pretty piece of business; so nnich so that I had nearly cried out for joy. Ant. What tras it ? Geta. {laufjhing.) What do you think ? Ant. I don't know. Gtrr.\. Why, something most marvellous. Your uncle has been discovered to be the father of your wife, Phanium. Ant. {starting.) Hah I what's that you s;iy ? Geta. He formerly cohabited secretly with her Uiother at Lemnos. 352 PHORMio; OR, Act TV PiiOR. A_dreaui: how could she be ignorant about her own father ? Geta. Be sure, Phormio, that there is some reason: but do you suppose that, outside of the door, I was able to understand everything that passed between them within ? AxT. On my faith, I too have heard the same story. Geta. Aye, and I'll give you still further reason for believ- ing it: your uncle in the meantime came out from there; not long after he returned again, with your father; each .said that he gave you permission to retain her; in fine, I've beeii sent to find you, and bring you to them. Ant. "Why then carry me oflf^ at once; — why do you delay ? Geta. I'll do so. AxT. my dear Phormio, farewell ! Phor. Farewell, Antipho. (Antipho and Geta jo info Demipho's house.) Scene IX. Phormio, alone. Phor. So may the Gods bless me, this has turned out luckily. I'm glad of if, that such good fortune has tlnis suddenly befallen them. I have now an excellent oj^por- tunity for diddling the old mejQ, and ridding Phsedria of all anxiety about the money, so that he mayn't be under the necessity of applying to any of his companions. For this same money, as it has been given him, shall be gvven. for good, whether they like it or not : how to force them to this, I've found out the very way. I must now assume a new air and countenance. But I'll betake myself ofi to this next alley; ' Carry me off) — Ver. 8S1. Madame Dacier says that Antipho is so rejoiced here at Geta's news, that he jumps upon his shoulders, and is carried oil in triumph, which was a sort of stage-trick, and was very diverting to the Audience. On this, Colman observes: "I believe JSIadame Dacier has not the least foundation for this extraordinary piece of information ; and I must confess, that I have too higii an opinion, both oi the Roman audience and actors, to believe it to be true." 1 Act v., au- L T»»£ SCnK.MINO I.MtASITt. Iill3 from ti:^ epot I i: pri'sent myself to them, w}icn they oomo out of doors. I shan't go to the fair, whcro 1 i>rclcinJcd 1 was i^oiujj. (/it? retirt;s into the alliy.) ACT THE FIFTH. Scene L Enter DE!inpno and Chremes, from Demipho's house. Dem. I do give and return hearty thanks to the Gods, and with reason, brother, ina.smiich as these matters have turnrd out for us so furtuDately. We must now meet with I'lmr- mio as soon as possible, before he squanders ourtliii'ty minse^ so that we may get them from him. Enter Puoiiilio, coming forward, and speaking aloud, as though not ni'fing them. PiiOR. ril go see if Demipho's at homo; that as to what^ • DtM. {accosting him.) Why, Phurmio, we were coming to you. PuOR. Perhaps about the very same affair. (Demipho 7?0(/« 1 •>•<•«/.) I' faith, I thought so. What were you coming to y hou.se for? Ridiculous; are you afraid that I shan't do nat I have once undertaken ? Hark you, whatever is my ■verty, still, of this one thing I have taken due care, not lu tnrfeit my word. CiiHEM. {to DiiMiPUO.) Is shc not genteel-looking,* just aa I told you ? ^ ' Thnt as to xcfiat) — Vcr. SOS. Lcmaire suggest that he is about to : " that as to what was agreed upon hetweeu us, I may take home .3 young woman, and make her my wife." - y» she not >jenleellouking) — Ver. y04. Patrick h.is the rdiowing r ■to here : " One cannot conceive anything more liapjiy or ju.-it than tbej*e words of Chremes. Dcmipho s thoughts arc wholly taken up how to recover the money, and I'hormio is ccpially solicitous ti> retain '' : but Chremes, who had just lelt his daughter, is roganiicss of tlieir •ourj^e, and fresh from the imprc.-i.-ioiis wliich she had made on him, . ivzn to know if his brother s scnlimcnt.s of lier were equally favourable, •tui xuturjUy puts this paternal question to him." 354 PHORMio ; OR, Act V. T)em. "Very much so. Phor. And this is what I'm come to tell you, Demipho, that I'm quite ready; whenever you please, give me my wife. Por I postponed all my other business, as was fit I should, whtn I understood that you were so very desirous to have it so. Dem. {^pointing to Chremes.) But he has dissuaded me from giving her to you. " For what," says he, " will be the talk among people if you do this ? Formerly, when sne might have been handsomely disposed of, then she wasn't given ; now, it's a disgrace for her to be turned out of doors, a repudiated woman;" pretty nearly, in fact, all the reasons which you yourself, some little time since, were urging to me. Phor. Upon my faith, you are treating me in a very insulting manner. Dem. How so ? Phor. Do you ask me ? Because I shall not be able to marry the other person / mentioned; for with what face shall I return to her whom I've slighted ? Chrem. Then besides, I see that Antipho is unwilling to part with her. {Aside, prompting Demipho.) Say so. Dem. Then besides, I see that my son is very unwilling to part with the damsel. But have the goodness to step over to the Forum, and order this money to be transferred to my account,^ Phormio. Phor. What, when I've paid it over to the persons to whom I was indebted ? Dem. What's to be done, then ? Phor. If you will let me have her for a wife, p.s you jn-o- mised, I'll take her; but if you prefer that she should stay with you, the portion must stay with me, Demipho. For it isn't fair that I should be misled for you, as it was for your own sakes that I broke oflf with the other woman, who was to have brought me a portion just as large. Dem. Away with you to utter jierdition, with this swag- gering, you vagabond. What, then, do you fancy we don't know you, or your doings ? nt ' Transferred to my account) — Ver. 921. "Ec-?cribcre argentum, or "nummos," meant " to transfer,'" or "set down money to the accoun of another person in one s banker's books." A passage in the Asinari* ol Plautufi, 1. 445 seems to have the same mcauiii^. -A>^J I' Be. I. TUE SCHEMING PARASITE. 355 PiioR Yoa are provokinjj me. Dem. Would you have m:irried her, if she had been given to you ? rnoR. Tn' the expcrimont. Dem. Thiit my sou might cohabit with her at your house, that wivs your dejsiijn. Phor. Pniy, what is that you say ? Dem. Thou do you give me my money ? PuoR. Nay, but do you give me my wife ? I>EM. Come before a magistrate. {Going to seize hold of ) FnoR. Why, really, if you persist in being troublesome — Hem. What ■will you do ? I'liOR. What, I ? You fancy, perhaps, just now, that I . the protector of the portionless; for the well portioufd,' 1 in in the habit of being so as welL Chrem. What's that to us f I'hor. {tcith a careless air.) Jsothing at all. I know a !-ain ladv here {pointing at Chremes's house) whose hus- Ihad-^- i'HREM. (lifarfing.) Ha! Dem. What's the matter ? PuoR. Another trite at Lemnos I 'hrem. ( ; -iusportcd bonce to some desolate land at the public cliari^e ? L'uuKM. (asiilr.) I am brought to such a pass, that I really don't know what to do in it. Dem. I know ; let's go into court. PuOR. Into court ? llei*e in prrfrrrnce {point itiq io CJhremes's houKc), if it suits you in any way. {Moius toicanh the huuxr.) Dem. {to CiiKE.MES.) Follow him, and hold him back, till I call out the servants. Chrem. {trying to seize PnoRMio.) But I can't by myself; run and help me. Phor. {to Demipho, who seizes hold of him.) There's one action of damages against you. CuREM. Sue him at law, then. PiiOR. And another with you, Chremes. Dem. Lay hold of him. (T/iei/ both drag him). PuoR. Is it thus you do r Why then I muist exert my Toice : Nausistrata, come out {rolling aloud). Chrem. {to Demipho.) Stop his mouth. Dem. See how strong the rascal iS. PuoR. {calling aloud.) Nausistrata, I say. Chrhim. Will you not hold your tongue ? Phor. Hold my tongue ? Dem. {to Chre.mes, as they drag him along.) If he won't follow, jilant your fists in his stomach. Phor. Or e'en gouge out an eye. The time's coming when ■ I I shall have a full rcvcii^'o ou you. 358 FHORMio; OB, Act V, Scene IL Enter Nausistbata, in haste, from the hous«. Naus. Who calls my name ? Chrem. {in alarm.) Ha ! Naus. My husband;, pray what means this disturbance ? Phor. {to Chrejies.) Oh, oh, why are you mute now ? Naus. Who is this man ? Won't you answer me ? Phor. What, he to answer you? who, upon my faith, doesn't know where he is. Chrem. {to ISTausistrata.) Take care how you believe that fellow in an}i;hing. Phor. {to Nausistrata.) Go, touch him ; if he isn't in a cold sweat all over, why then kill me. Chrem. 'Tis nothing at all. Naus. What is it, then, that this person is talking about ? Phor. You shall know directly ; listen now. Chrem. Are you resolved to believe him ? Naus. Pray, how can. I believe him, when he has told me nothing ? Phor. The poor creature is distracted from fright. Naus. It isn't for nothing, i' laith, that you are in such a fright. Chrem. What, I in a fright ? Phor. {to Chremes.) All right, of course : since you are not in a fright at all, and this is nothing at all that I'm going to tell, do you relate it. Dem. Villain, is he to relate it at your request ? Phor. {to Demipuo.) Come now, you've managed nicely Cor your brother. Naus. My husband, will you not tell me r* Chrem. But Naus. But what ? Chrem. There's no need to tell you. Phor. Not for you, indeed; but there's need for her to know it. At Lemnos Chrem. {sturtincj.) Ha! what are vou doii: ? Re II. TOE SCHEMING PARASITK. 359 Dkm. (/() PllORMlo ) Won't you hoUi yiir toni,M>e ? riiuK. (A> N.vr.si5>riu.TA.) Uukuown to you Chrhsi. Ah mo ! l*noK. He maiTied another Nais. My tiftir sir, may the Goils forbid it ! rnoK. Siuh is the fact. Nai's. Wivtoh that I am. I'm umloue ! Thor. And had u daughter by her, too, while you never drejuiit of it. Cm REM. Wh.at are we to do ? Nais. O immortal Gods! — a disgraceful and a wicked mi.-^deetl ! 1")em. {axiilr, to CliREMES.) It's all up iriffi you. Phor. Was ever anytliing now more un generously done ? Your men, who, when thoy como to their wives, then become iucajiacitated from old age. ' Naus. Demij)ho, I ajipeal to you; for with that man it is irksome for me to .«;jieak. Were these those frcrjueut journeys and long visits at Lemnos ? Was this the lowuess of prices that reduced our rents ? Dem. Xausistrata, I don't deny that in this matter, he has been deseniug of censure ; but still, it may be pardoned. PuoR. {apart.) He is talking to the dead. - — Dem. For he did this neither through neglect or aversion to yourself About tifteen years since, in a drunken fit, he had an intrigue with this poor woman, of whom this girl was bom, nor did he ever touch her aftei'vvards. She is dead and gone : the onh/ difficulty that remained in this matter. Wheivfore, I do beg of you, that, ds in other things, you'll bear this with patience. ^ Nais. Why should I with patience ? I could wish, »fflicte\ i8 Ins ser- vant, a worthlesii, wieked fellow. Inteniliiitf to nin awav firom the house, he earried otT this girl, whou her father was brinLring up in the eountry, thtn tive yeai-s old, and. secretly taking her with hiui to Euba^a, sold her to Lyeus, a menhaut. This pei-son, a long time after, sold her, when now gro\ni up, to Dorio. She, however, knew that she was the daughter of paivnts of rank, inas- much as she recollected herself being attended and trained up by t'eiuale servants : the name of her parents she didn't recollect. Piioii. How, then, were they discovered ? I'li.KD. Stay; I was coming to that. This runaway was cauglit yesterday, and sent back to Phanocrates : he relatevl the wonderful circumstances I have mentioned about the girl, and how she was sold to Lycus, and afterwards to Dorio. Phanocrates sent immediately, and claimed his daughter ; but wlien he learned that she had been st)M, he came runniu'jj to rae. PnoK. O. how extremely fortunate ! Ph.ed. Phimocrates has no objection to my marrying her ; nor has my father, I imagine. Phou. Trust me for that ; I'll have all this matter managed for you ; Phorniio has so arranged it, that you shall not be a suppliant to your father, but his judge. Ph.ed. You are joking. ^ Phor. So it is, I tell you. Di> you only r/ive me the thirty minae which Dorio Pn>ED. You |iut me well in mind ; I iniderstand you ; you may have them ; for he must give them back, a.s the law forbids a free woman to be sold ; and, on my laith, I do rejoice that an opportunity i« allbrded me of rewarding you, and taking a hearty ven esoajte tleath ; terror dtpriveji them of voiee. By stealth, therefoiv, they siiul tlinniu'h Mer- eury a reeut evil, le^st u greater ouo befall you." Fabi.e III. THE VAIN JACKDAW AND THE PEACOCK. 1 That one ought not to i)lume oneself ou the merits which I belong to another, but ought rather to pass his life in his owu i prvijvr guise, ^Ksop has given us this illustration : — A Jackilaw, swelling with empty pride, picked up .some feathers which had fallen from a I'eacoek, and decked him- ■ self out thn-cwith ; upon which, despising his own kuinl, he ; mingled with a beauteous flock of Peacocks. They tore his ■feathei-s tVom off" the impudent bird, and put him to flight J with their beaks. The Jackdaw, tlina roughly handled, in j grief hi\i>tened to return to his o^vn kind; repulsed by whom, he had to submit to sad disgrace. Then said one of those whom he had formerly despised : " If you had been con- tent with our station, and had been ready to put up with what nature had given, you would neither have experienced the former attVout, nor would your ill fortune have had to feel the additional pang of this repulse: that Phtfdnia, like iEsop, intends to conceal a polHical meaning under this Fahle. ami that by the Wateiu^nake lie iiKaiis Culiirula, and l>.v ihe ' -, Tiberius. Others, perhaps with more probability, think that the '^v of Tiberius alone is alluded to in the mention of the snake, d. it is doubtful whether I'haedrus .sunived to the time of Cali^'ula: and it is more generally believed that the First and Second Books were xvrittcn in the time of Augustus and Tiberius. ' A Jarblnir, mceHimi) — Ver. 4. tJchtUer thiuks that .Slj^iuub u ailudfil 'jo under lliu ima^e. 3G8 TUE FABLES OF PH.EDRUS. Bcwk T. Fable IV. THE DOG CARRYING SOME MEAT ACROSS A RIVER. He who covets what belongs to another, deservedly loses his own. As a Dog, swimming* through a river, was carrying a piece of meat, he saw his own shadow in the watery mirror ; and, thinking that it was another booty carried by another do;/, attempted to snatch it away; but his greediness iras disap- pointed, he both dropjjed the food which he was holding in his mouth, and was after all unable to reach that at which he grasped. Fable Y. THE COW, THE SHE-GOAT. THE SHEEP, AND THE LION. An alliance with the powerful is never to be relied upon : the present Fable testifies the truth of my maxim. A Cow, a She-Goat, and a Sheep' patient under injuries, were partners in the forests with a Lion. "When they had captured a Stag of vast bulk, thus spoke the Lion, after it had been divided into shares : " Because my name is Lion. 1 take the first ; the second you will yield to me because I am courageous ; then, because I am the strongest,' the third will ' As a Dog stvimmivg) — Ver. 9. Lessing finds some fault with the way in which this Fable is related, and with fair reason. The Dog swiinniin,2; would be likely to disturb the water to such a degree, that it would be impossible for him to see with any distinctness the reflection of the meat. The version which represents him as crossing a bridge is certainly more consistent with nature. - And a Sheep) — Ver. 3. Lessing also censures this Fable on the ground of tlie partnership being contrary to nature ; neither the cow, the goat, nor the sheep feed on flesh. •* I am the strongest) — Ver. 9. Some critics profess to see no difference between "sum fortis" in the eigiith line, and " plus valeo" here; but the former exi)res.sion appears to refer to his courage, and the latter to hi- strength. However, the second and third reasons are nothiug but reiti rations of the first one, under another form. Davidson remarks on this passage: " I am not certain that the Poet meant any distinction ; nay, there is, pcrhai)S, a propriety in supposing that he industriously maiies Fable VTI. TiiK FMti.rs ok imi vniirs. 809 fill! to my lot; if any one touilics tin- fMintli, wcw Itctide him." Thus did unscrupulousnoss seize upon ihe whuK- pivy for itsul£ F.\ni.r VI. THE FROGS' COMrLAINT AGAINST THE SUN. .iE.- i ' Titling a tci/e') — Ver. 3. It has been susgested by Broticr and Do.ihillons, that in this Fable rha'drus covcfily alludes to the marriape RJiich was contemplated l>y Livia. or L villa, the daughter of the elder |)nisus and Antoniu. and the wife of lier first-cousin, the younirer Drusus. with the iiifimous Sejanus^thc minister an2't'ciously deny. Fable XL THE ASS AND THE LION HUNTING}. A diistard. who in his talk braids of his ])rowess, and is devoid of eouraee,' imposes upon strangers, but is the jest jf all who know him. A Lion having resolved to hunt in company with an Ass, "OiK-ealed him in a thicket, and at the same time enjoined lim to frighten the wild beasts with his voice, to which they ■Aere imu.sed, while he himself was to catch them as they led. Upon this, Long-eai-s, with all his might, suddenly ■aised a cry, and terrified the beasts with //lis new cause if astonishment.' While, in their alarm, they are flying o the well known ontlet.s, they ar€? overpowered by the* Iread onset of the Lion; who, aftoc^he was wearied with laughter, called forth the Ass frojn his retreat, and bade iiiiu cease his clamour. On this the other, in hia insolence, \/i'/iiireti: "What think you_ of the assistance given by my joi.-er" " E.xcelleiit !" said the Lion, "so much so, that if !■ had not been acquainted with your spirit and your race, I I 'hould have fled in alarm like the rest. I ' Devoid of cr>urnf}e)—\cT. 1. Biirinann suppests, with prcat pri> I ibility, th-at rhicflru.s had here in iniiul those hra^'gurt warrlora, who I iTe been .w well dt.'scribecl hy riautu.s aud Terence, under the cbarac- I-rsi of Pyr.'opoiyniccs and Tiiraso. « Thi« ifiF rnii-i^ of aMiini.-tUmrnt') Ver. 8. — Never iiavinij heard tlio jjee o( au u physic in a strange jilaee, and seHiiig his anti- dote' under a feigned name, gained some reputation for himself by his delusive speeches. Upon this, the King of the city, who lay ill, being afflittt-d with a sevei-e malady, asked for a eup, for the jmrpose of try- ing him ; and then jiouring water into it, and javtending that he was mixing poison with the fellow's antidote, ordered him to drink it otF, in consult ration of a stated rewar Through fear of death, the cobbler then confessed that not by any skill in the medieal art, but through the .stupidity of the jmblie, he had gained his reputation. The King, h;iv- ing summoned a council, thus remarked : ""What think you of the extent of your madness, when you do not hesitate to trust your lives' to one to whom no one would tnist his feet to be "fitted with shoes?" This, I should Siiy with good reason, is aimed at those thi-ough wliose folly impudence makes a profit. Fable XV. THE ASS AND THE OLD SHEPHERD. In a change of government, the poor change nothing beyond the name of their master. That tliis is the fact tliis little Fable shows. mentions the design of his Fable, he seldom does so at the end. In thir conjecture he is followed by Bentley, Sanadon, and many others of the learned. ' Selling his antidote) — Verr 3. "Antidotum" probably means a universal remedy, capable of curing all natural diseases, as well aa neutralizing the efl'ects of poison. • Trust yi.ur lives) — Ver. 15. He seems to pun upon the word "capita," as meaning not only "the life," but "the head," in contradis- tinction to " the feet," mentioned in the next line. As in 1. 2 we find that he came to a place where he was not known, we must suppose that the Cobbler confcsoed to the Kiuy hid tormor caiiiu^r. S74 THE FABLES OF PH.EDRUS. Book I. A t'morous Old ]Man was feeding an Ass n a meadow. Frightened by a sudden alarm of the enemy, lie tried to per- jiuade the Ass to fly, lest they should be taken prisoners. But he leisurely replied : " Pray, do you suppose that the conqueror will ])lace double panniers upon me r" The Old Man said, " No." " Then what matters it to me, so long as I have to cariy my panniers, whom I serve f " Fable XVL THE STAG, THE SHEEP, AND THE WOLF. When a rogue oflTers his name as surety in a doubtfid case, he has no design to act straight-foi-wardly, but is looking to mischief. A Stag asked a Sheep for a measure^ of wheat, a Wolf being his surety. The other, however, suspectmg fraud, replied : " The Wolf has always been in the habit of plun- dering and absconding ; you, of rushing out of sight with rapid flight : where am I to look for you both when the day comes :"• Fable XVII. THE SHEEP, THE DOG, AND THE WOLF. Liars generally^ pay the penalty of their guilt. A Dog, who was a false accuser, having demanded of a Sheep a loaf of bread, which he afiirmed he had entrusted to her charge ; a Wolf, summoned as a witness, afiirmed that not only one was owing but ten. Condemned on false tes- timony, the Sheep had to pay what she did not owe. A few days after, the Sheep saw the Wolf lying in a pit. " This," said she, " is the reward of villany, sent by the Gods." ' For a v}eaxurfi) — Ver. 3. Properly "modius;" the principal dry measure of the l\omans. It was equal to one-third of the amphora, ami therefore to nearly two gallons English. ' Du>/ comets) — Ver. 6. " Quuni dies adveniat," a law term, signify- ing " when the day of payment comes." ^ Liars genbralli/) — ycv.\. It is supposed by some that this Fablff is levelled against the informers who infested Rome in the days of Tiberius. FbMo XXV. THK KAiu.KS OF rii.r.nuT'.s. .377 Those ))orsons on-^'Iit to rooo'^nize tin's as np]>lirMMo to henisflvfs, whose ol)jtvt is private julvuutu|^c, aud who Loust ) the unthiukiu'r of an umval merit. F.\BLE XXTTT. t THE FAITHFUL DOG. The man who becomes liberal all of a sudden, fjratifies tho foolish, but for the wary spreads his toils in vain. A Thief one nisjht threw a crust of bread to a Doi;, to try whether he coidd be gained by the proflered victuals: •' Hark you," said the Dog, " do you think to stop my touguo so that I may not bark for my master's jirojierty ? You are greatly mistaken. For this sudden liberality bids me be ou the watch, that you may not profit by my neglect. Fable XXIV. THE FROG AND THE OX. The needy man, while affecting to imitate the powerful, comes to ruin. Onoe on a time, a Frog espied an Ox in a meadow, and moved with euvj at his vast bulk, puffed out her wrinkled pkin. tiiiil then asked her young ones whether she was bigger than the Ox. They said "No." Again, with still greater efforts, she distended her skin, and in like manner enquired which was the bigger:^ they said: "The Ox." At last, while, full of indignation, she tried, with all her might, to putT herself out, she burst her body^ on the spot. Fable XXV. THE DOG ANp THE CROCODILE. Tho.se who give bad advice to discreet persons, both lose their pains, and are laughed to scorn. Which tro' the higger'^ — Ver. 8. " Quis major cssct. Illi (li.xeriint Bovem." Bt-ntlcy censures this line, and thinks it spurious. In ^rood l^tin, he s.iys " uter " wonhl occupy the place of " quis," aud " bo- tern " would be replaced b^- '• bos." 878 THE FABLES OF PII.flDRUS. B jok L It has been related,* that Dogs driuk at the river Nile ninning along, that they may not be seized by the Crocodiles. Accordingly, a Dog having begun to drink while running along, a Crocodile thus addressed him : " Lap as leisurely as you like ; drink on ; come nearer, and don't be afraid," said he. The other replied : " Egad, I would do so with all my heart, did I not know that you are eager for my Hesh." Fable XXYI. THE FOX AND THE STOEK Harm shoidd be done to no man; but if any one do an injury, this Fable shows that he may be visited with a like return. A Fox is said to have given a Stork the first invitation to a banquet, and to have placed l)efore her some thin bi'oth in a flat dish, of which the hungry Stork could in no way get a taste. Having invited the Fox in retui'n, she set he/ore him a narrow-mouthed jar,^ full of minced meat:' and, thrust- ing her beak into it, satisfied herself, ivhile she tormented her guest with hunger ; who, after having in vain licked the neck of the jar, as we have heard, thus addressed the foreign bird:* "Every one is bound to bear patiently the results of his own example." ' It has been related)— "Ver. 3. Pliny, in his Natural History, B. viii. c. 40, pnd .i-Rlian, in his Various and Natural Histories, relate the same fact as to the dogs drinking of the Nile. " To treat a thing, as the dogs do the Nile," was a common proverb with the ancients, signifying to do it supcrticially ; corresponding with our homely s;iying, "To give it a lick and a promise." MacrDhius, in the Saturnalia, B. i. c. 2, mentions t^tory, tliat after the defeat at JIutina, when enquiry was made as to what had become of Antony, one of his servants made answer: "He has done what the dogs do in Egypt, he drank and ran away," " Of iniiired meat) — A'er. 7. " Intritus cihus," is thought here to signify a peculiar dish, consisting of bread soaked in milk, cheese, gar- lic, and other herbs. ^ Karrow-vioiitlied jar) — Ver. 8. The "lagena," or " lagona," wa^i a longncckcd bottle or flagon, made "of earth, and much used for keeping •wine or fruit. * The furcign bird) — Ver. 11. Alluding probably to the migratory habits of the stork, or the fact of her being especially a uaiive of Egypt. Fablo XXVIII. Tilt: F.vuLta of rii.EUKUS, 379 Farle XXVTT. TllF. DOO, TlIK TRKASUllE, AND TTIR VULTUllE. Tli's FaMo iiKiy lie appliotl to the avaricious, nnd to thoso, who, born to a humble lot, atlV'ft to be calhMl ridi. CirubbiiiEj up luinian bones,* a Do£:f met with a Treasure; and, because he had ofl'endcd the Gods the Planes,* a desire for riches was inspired in him, that so he might jiay the penalty ilae to the holy character of the place. Accordingly, while he was watcluTig over the gold, forgetful of food, he was stai-ved to death; on which a Vulture, .standing over him, is reported to have said : '' O Dog, you justly meet your death, who. begotten at a cross-road, and bred up on a dunghill, have suddenly coveted regal wealth. Fable XXVTTL THE FOX AND THE EAGLE. Mm, however high in station, ought to be on their guard against the lowly; because, to ready address, revenge lies near at hand. An Eagle one day carrieil off the whelps of a Fox, and placed them in her nest before her young ones, for them to tear in pieces as food. The mother, following her, began to entreat that she would not cause such sorrow to her miserable suppliant. The other despised her, as being safe in the very situation of the spot. The Fox snatched from an altar a burning torch, and surroinTded the whole tree with flames, intending to mingle anguish to her foe with the lo.ss ' Human bonfA) — Ver. 3. Ttiia plainly refers to the custom which prevailed among the ancients, of burying golden orn;imeut.s, and even money, with the dead ; which at lenjxth was practised to such an exce&J, that at Uome the custom was forbidden liy law. It was protiaMy prac- tised to a great extent by the people of Ktruria; if we may judge from the discoveries of golden ornaments freipieiitly made in lluir tombs. - Goda the Maiif-i) -Xer. 4. rerhaps by " Deo8 Manes" are mcaat the good and bud Geuii of the deceased. 380 THE FABLES OF PH^DRUS. Book L of her offspring. The Eagle, thnt she might rescue her young ones from the peril of death, in a suppliant manner restored to the Fox her whelps in safety. Fable XXIX. THE ASS DERIDING THE BOAR. Fools often, while trying to raise a siUy laugh, provoke others by gross affronts, and cause serious danger to them- selves. An Ass meeting a Boar: " Good morrow to you, brother." says he. The other indignantly rejects the salutation, and enquires why he thinks }>roper to utter such an untruth. The Ass, with legs^ crouching down, replies : "If yoii deny that you are like me, at all events I have something veiy like your snout." The Boar, just on the point of making a fierce attack, suppressed his rage, and said : " Revenge were easy for me, but I decline to be defiled with such dastai'dly blood. Fable XXX. THE FROGS FRIGHTENED AT THE BATTLE OF THE BULLS. When the powerful* are at variance, the lowly are the sufferers. A Frog, viewing from a marsh, a combat of some Bulls : "Alas!" said she, "what tei-rible destruction is threatening us." Being asked by another why she said so, as the Bulls were contending for the sovereignty of the herd, and passed Iheir lives atar from them: "Their habitation is at a dis- tance," said she, and they are of a difterent kind; still, he who is expelled from the sovereignty of the meadow, will take ' The ass, zcith legs) — Ver. 7. This line is somewhat modified in the transliition. - }Vh( n the powerful) — Ver. 1. This is similar to the line of Horace, •' Quiciiuid deliruut rcijes, plectuatur Achivi." Fa bio XXXT. the fahi.ks of rii.rnnua. 381 to flight, ami come to tho seoret hidiiifij-placos in the feiia. aiul tnimide and crush us with liis hurd hout". Tlius docs tlioir lury couccru om* sufcty." Faiu.k XXXT. THE KITE AND THE TICEOXS. TTo who entrusts himself to tho protection of a wicked man, while he seeks assistance, meets with destruction. Some Pii^eons, having often escaped from a Kite, and by their swiftness of wing avoided death, tlie spoiler had recourse to stratagem, and by a crafty device of this nature, deceived the harmless race. " Why do you prefer to live a life of anxiety, rather than conclude a treaty, and make me voiir king, who can ensure your safety from every injury r" They, putting eontiilence in him, entrusted them.selves X) the Kite, who, on obtaining the sovereignty, began to devour them one by one, and to exercise authority with his ci-uel talons. Then Sixid one of those that were left ; "Deservedly are wo biniLteiA." 382 THE FABLES OF Pfl.KDRUa Book II. EOOK II. THE PROLOGUE. The plan of ^sop is confined to instniction by examples; nor by Fables is anything else^ aimed at than that the errors of mortals may be corrected, and persevering industry* exert itself. Whatever the playful invention, therefore, of the narj'ator, so long as it pleases the ear, and answers its pur- pose, it is recommended by its merits, not by the Authoi-'s name. lor my part, I "will with all care follow the method of the sage;^ but if I should think fit to insert something* of 7»i/ oica, that variety of subjects may gratify the taste, I trust, Reader, you will take it in good part ; provided that my brevity be a feir return for such a favour : of which, that vif praises may not be verbose, listen to the reason why you ought to deny the covetous, a)id even to ofier to the modest that for which they have not asked. ' Is ani/thi»fi else) — Ver. 2. Burmann thinks that the object of the Author ill this Proloj^ue is to defend himself against the censures of those who might blame him for not keeping to his purpose, mentioned in the Prologue of the First Book, of adhering to the fabulous matter used by i^Esop, but mixing up with such stories narratives of events that had happened in his own time. - PerstveriiKj industri/ — Ver. 5. "Diligens industria." An indus- try or ingenuity that exerts itself in trying to discover the meaning of Ilia Fables. * OJ the sage) — Ver. 8. Sfeaning .^Esop. * To insert somcthi/i'j) — Ver. t). lie probably alludes to such con- temporary narratives as are found in Fable v. of the present Book; !a Fable x. of the Third; iu 13. IV., Fables v., xxi., xiiv.; and B. V., Fabiett L, v., vii. Fublo II. Tin: FAnLi.s of rH.F.niiLa. 3R3 Faiu.r T. TIIK LION, TllK Kol'.l'.HR, AND THE TKAVELLEll. While a Lion was standiiicf over a Bullock, which he had l>ri>iiiilit to the ijroiind, a Robber came up, and demanded a share. "I would sive it you," said the J Jon, ''were you not in the habit of takin;; without leave;" and a^o repulsed the ropie. By chance, a harmless Traveller was led to the same spot, and on seeing the wild beast, retraced his .steps ; uu which the Lion kindly .said to him : '"You have nothini^ to fear; boldly take the share which is due to your nuxlcsty." Then havinjx divitlcd the carcase, he sought the woods, that lie miiiht make room for the Man. A very excellent example, and worthy of all praise^ but covetousuesa is rich and modesty iu want.* Fable IT. THE TWO W0:MEN OF DIFFERENT AOxES BELOVED BY THE MIDDLE-AGED MAN. That the men, midcr all circumstances, are preyed npon l>y the women, whither they love or ai'e beloved, this truly we learn from examples. A Woman, not devoid of grace, held enthralled a certain ^lau of middle age,' concealing her years by the arts of the toilet : a lovely Young creature, too, had ca]>tivated the heart of the same person. Both, as they were desirous to api>ear of the same aue with him^ began, each in her tm-n, to pluck out the hair of the Man. While he imagined that ' Modesty in tcant)—\eT. 12. Martial haa a similar passage, B. iv., Epig. 9 :— "Semper oris pauper, si pauper es, iEmili.ane, Dantur opes nulii nunc nisi divitiiius." • 0/ middle age) — Ver 8. It has been a matter of doul>t amon^ Commentators to which " retatis mcdiie" applies — the man or the •jroman. But as she is called "anus," "an old Woman," in the last Uqc, it Ls most probable that the man is meant. 384 THE FABLES OF PH.€:DRU3 Book II. he was made trim by the care of the women, he suddenly found himself bald ; for the Young Woman had entirely pulled out the white haii's, the Old Woman the black ones. Fable TTI. THE MAN AND THE DOG. A 'Man, torn by the bite of a savage Dog, threw a piece of bread, dipt in his blood, to the offender ; a thing that he had heard was a remedy for the wound. Then said ^sop : " Don't do this befoi'e many dogs, lest they devour us alive, when they know that such is the reward of guilt." The success of the wicked is a temptation to many. Fable IY. THE EAGLE, THE CAT, AND THE WILD SOW. An Eagle had made her nest at tlie top of an oak ; a Cat ■who had found a hole in the middle, had kittened there; a Sow, a dweller in the woods, had laid her offspring at the bottom. Then thus does the Cat with deceit and wicked malice, destroy the community so formed by accident. She mounts up to the nest of the Bird : " Destruction," says she, "is preparing for you, perhaps, too, for wretched me; for as you see, the Sow, digging up the earth every day, is insidiously trying to overthrow the oak, that she may easily seize our progeny on the gTound." Having fit us spread terror, and bewildered the Eac/les senses, the Cat creeps down to the lair of the bristly Sow : " In great danger," says she, "are your offs])ring ; for as soon as you go out to forage with your young litter, the Eagle is ready to snatch away from you your httle pigs." Having filled this place likewise ■with alarm, she cunningly hides hei'self in her safe hole. Thence she wanders forth on tiptoe by night, and having filled hei'self and her off-^priug with food, she looks out all day long, pretending alarm. Fearing the downfall, the Eagle sits still in the branches ; to avoid the attack of the epoiler, the Sow stirs n.ot abroad. Why make a long story ? Fablo V Tiin F.vni.Ks of pn.ronisi. 385 Tlioy perished throu<;h lumber, with their young oju's, and alloiiK'd the Cat and hw kitti-na an amjile rciiast. Silly (.Toilulity may take this as a pmof Low mudi evil a double-tougucd man may ul'un contrive. Fable V. CESAR TO THE CHAMBERLAIN. There is a certain set of busyhodies at Rome, hurriedly running to and iVo, busily engaged in idleness, out of breath abtnit nothing at all, with much ado doing nothing, a trouble to themselves, and most annoying to others. It is my object, by a time story, to reform this race, if indeed I can : it is worth your while to attend. Tiberius Caesar, when on his way to Naples, came to his country-seat at Misenum,' which, placed by tlie hand of Lueullus on the summit of the heights, beholds the Sicilian 8e:i in the distaiace, and that of Etruria close at hand. One of the highly girt Chamberlains,^ whose tunic of Pelusian linen was nicely smoothed from his shoulders downwards, with hanging fringes, while his master was walking through ' the pleaj^ant shrubberies, began with bustling officiousness to sprinkle^ the parched ground with a wooden watering-pot ; but oiilj/ got laughed at. Thence, by short cuts to him ' Country-seat at Mi-senum) — Ver. 8. This villa was situate on Cape Miscnum, a promontoiy of Campania, near Baite and Cuma;, so called from Misenus. the trumpeter of ^Eneas, whoAvas said to have been buried ' there. The villa was originally built by C. Marius, and was bought by Cornelia, and then by Lueullus, who' either rebuilt it or added extensively to it. -■ 0/ the chamberlains) — Ver. 11. The "atrienses" were a superior class of the domestic slaves. Ifcjvas their duty to take charge of the "atrium," or hall; to escort visitors or clients, and to explain to strangers all matters connected with the pictures, statues, and other decorations of the house. * To sprinkle) — Ver. 16. Burmann suggests that this duty did not belong to the "atriensis," who would consequently think that his courteous politeness woald on th-^t account be still more pleasing to the Emperor. 2c 386 THE FABLES OF PH-EDRCS, Book II. well known, he runs before into another walk,* laying the dust. Caesar takes notice of the fellow, and discerns his object. Just as he is supposing that there is some extra- ordinary good fortune in store for him : " Come hither," says his master ; on which he skips up to him, quickened by the joyous hope of a sure reward. Then, in a jesting tone, thus spoke the mighty majesty of the prince : " You have not profited much ; your labour is all in vain ; manumission stands at a much higher price with me." Fable TI. THE EAGLE, THE CROW, AND THE TORTOISE. No one is sufficiently armed against the powerful; but if a wicked adviser joins them, nothing can withstand such a combination of violence and unscrupulousness.' An Eagle carried a Tortoise aloft, who had hidden her body in her horny abode, and in her concealment could not, while thus sheltered, be injured in any way. A Crow came through the air, and flying near, exclaimed : " You really have carried off a rich prize in your talons ; but if I don't instruct you what you must do, in vain will you tire your- self with the heavy weight." A share being promised her, she persuades the Eagle to dash the hard shell from the lofty stars upon a rock, that, it being broken to pieces, she may easily feed upon the meat. Induced by her words, the Eagle attends to her suggestion, and at the same time gives a large share of the banquet to her instructress. ' Another walk)— Ycr. 18. The "xystus" was a level piece of ground, in front of a portico, divided into flower-beds of various shapes by borders of box. " Much hiijher price)-— Yer. 25. He alludes to the Roman mode of manumission, or setting the slaves at liberty. Before the master pre- sented the slave to the Quaestor, to have the "vindicta," or lictor's rod, laid on him, he turned him round and gave him a blow on the face. In the word " veueunt," "sell," there is a reference to the pur- chase of their liberty by the slaves, which was often effected by means of their " peculium," or savings. 3 Literally : Whatever violence and uuscrupulousncss attack, comes Fal)loVIir. THE KAni-r-s ok nixDUfs. 387 ' Thus sho who had been protected by the bounty of nature, boini; an unequal match for the two, perished by an unhappy fate. Fable VII. THE MULES AND THE ROBBERS. Laden with burdens, two JNIules were travelling along; the one was carrying baskets' with money, the other sacks dis- I tended with store of barley. The former, rich with his burden, goes exulting along, with neck erect, and tossing to-and-fro uj)on his throat hi.s elear-toned bell :' his com- jianiou follows, with quiet and easy step. Suddenly some Rol)bei-s mish from ambush upon them, and amid the slaughtei-^ pierce the Mule with a sword, and cany off the money ; the valueless barley they neglect. While, then, the one despoiled was bewailing their mishaps : "For my part," says the otlu-r, •' I am glad I was thought so little of; for I ! have lost nothing, nor have I received hurt by a wound." [ According to the moral of this Fable, poverty is safe ; great ; riche." are liable to danger. i Fable VIIL ' THE STAG AND THE OXEN. i A Stag, aroused from his woodland lair, to avoid im- ' pending death threatened by huntsmen, repaired with blind fear to the nearest farm-house, and hid himself in an ox-stall close at hand. X^pon this, an Ox said to him, , as he concealed himself: "Why, what do you mean, un- ( happy one, in thus rushing of yorur own accord upon ! ' Carryinj baskets) — Ver. 2. " Fisci " were baskets made of twigs, ' or panniers, in which the Romans kept and carried about sums of ' money. Beinj^ used especially in -the Roman treasury, the word in time ' came to signify the money itself. Hence our word " fiscal." ' - Clcartoned bell) — Ver. 5. ScheflFer and Gronovius think that the ' bell was used, as in some countries at the present day, for the pur- pose of warning those who came in an opposite direction to make room where the path was narrow. ' Amiil the slawjhter) — Ver. S. He alludes no douJ)t to the murder of the men conducting the mules by the Roblior=. 2c2 ^f 1(» it my iilijoct, ii tiling wiin^-h still lay in my pow t-r. tluit ho '•uliliuit 1)0 tlio only i>ne. Nor is tins onvy. l>ut oniula- u ; ami if Latium shall favour my oll'orts, sho will have :1 more at their betters, I shall endure my unhappy ^ -tiuy' with strength of mind, until Fortune is ashiuued if her owii injustice. X ' Unhappy destiny) — Ver. 17. The words "fntalo eiitium" have •I considered as being here inappropriately nsod. It ia very doubtful V . iber the last part of this Epilogae is genuine. 390 XHE FABLES OF PH^DBUS. Book III. BOOK ITT. THE PROLOGUE. To EUTYCHUS. If you have a desire, Eutychus, to read the little books of Phsedinis, you must keep yourself diseugaged from business, that your mind, at liberty, may relish the meaning of the lines. "But," you say, "my genius is not of such great value, that a moment of time should be lost for it to my o^vn pur- suits." There is no reason then why that should be touched by your hands which is not suited for ears so engaged. Perhaps you will say, "some holidays will come,'^ which ' Eutychus) — Ver. 2. It is not known with certainty who this E^tychus was to whom he addresses himself. It has been suggested that he is the same person who is mentioned by Josephus, Antiq. B. xix., c. 4, as flourishing at the Court of Caligula, and who had previously been a charioteer and inspector of buildings at the stables of Claudius. He is also supposed, from the words of the Epilogue of this ; Book, line 20 — 26, to have held more than one public office. It has been suggested that he was the frcedman of the Emperor Claudius or , Augustus, an inscription having been found in the tomb of the freedmcn of the latter to C. Julius Eutychus. But it is hardly probable that he is the person meant ; as there is little doubt that Phtedros (vroie the present Book of Fables long after the time of Augustus. Indeed it has been suggested by some that he wrote it as late as the reign of Caligula. '■* Some'Iiolida)/s)~\eT. 8. The Eomans had three kinds of public " fcrisc," or holidays, which all belonged to the " dies nctasli," or days on which no public business could be done. These were the "ferise stativa)," "conceptiva;," and " iuiperativa\" The first were held regularly, and on stated days set forth in the Calendar. To these belonged the Lupercalia, Carmentalia, and Agonalia. The "concoptiviv," or "con- ceptoe," were moveable feasts held at certain seasons in everj' year, but not on fixed days; the times for holding them being annually appointed TUE FABLES OP PIIiEDRlS. 391 will invite me to study with iniiul unlH'nt." Will you rather, I ask you, reml worthless ilitties,' tlinu bestow attention upon your domestic eoneerns, j^ive moments to your friends, your leisure to your wife, relax your mind, and refresh j'our body, in order that you may return mon; eftieiently to your wonted iluties? You must ehanj^e your purpose and your mode of life, if you liave tlu)ughts of i crossinix the threshold of the Muses. I, whom my mother brought forth on the Pierian hill,* upon whieh hallowed . Mnemosyne, nine times fruitful, bore the choir of Muses to 1 thuntlerini; Jove : although I was bom almost in the very , school itself, and have entirely erased all care for acquiring I wealth from my brea-st, and with the approval of many have I applied myself to these pui-suits, am still with difficulty I received into the choir of the foetus. What do you imagine must be the lot of him who seeks, with ceaseless vigilance, to amass great wealth, preferring the sweets of gain to the labours of learning ? J But now, come of it what may (as Sinon said' when he [ by the magistrates or priests. Amon£r these were the " ferine Latinso," Sementiva?. Paganalia, and Couipitalia. The " ferro iniperativae" \ were appointed to be held on certain emergencies by order of the Consuls, I'nutors, and Dictators; and were in general held to avert t national calamities or to celebrate great victories. ' Worthless ditties) — Ver. 10. " Xa?nia " were, properly, the improvised songs that were sung at funerals bj' the hired mourners, I who were gener.dly females. From their trivial nature, the word came to be generally applied to all worthless ditties, and under this dame : Phaedrus, with all humility, alludes to his Fables. 1 - On the Pifrianllill) — Ver. 17. Judging from this passage it would ' appear that Ph tdrus was a Macedonian by birth, and not, as more generally stated, a Thracian. Pieria was a country on the south-east I coast of Macedonia, through which ran a ridge of mountains, a part of I which were called Pieria, or the Pierian jnountain. The inhabitants : are celebrated in the early history of the music and poesy of Greece, ay . their country waa one of the earliest seats of the worship of the Muses, and Orpheus was said to have been buried there. It is most probable that I'hadrus was carried away in slavery to Rome in his early years, i and that he remembered but little of his native country. ; ^ At Sinon said) — Ver. 27. He here alludes to tiie words of Sinon, i the Grecian spv, when brought before Priam, iu the Second Book of i Virgil, 77-73 :— 'Tunctaeiiuidem tibi, rex, fuerit quodcumque fa'cbor Vera, inquit 392 THE FABLES OP PH.EDRUS. Book III. was brought before the King of Dardania), I will trace a third book with the pen of ^sop, and dedicate it to you, in acknowledgment of your honor and your goodness.^ If you I'ead it, I shall rejoice ; but if otherwise, at least jjosterity will have something with which to amuse them- selves. Now will I explain in a few words why Fabulous narrative was invented. Slaveiy,^ subject to the will of another, because it did not dare to say what it wished, couched its sentiments in Fables, and by pleasing fictions eluded censure. In place of its foot-path I have made a road, and have invented more than it left, selecting some points to my own misfortune.^ But if any other than Sejanus* had been the informer, if any other the witness, if any other the judge, in fine, I should confess myself deserving of such severe woes; nor should I soothe my sorrow with these expedients. If any one shall make erroneous surmises, and ap]'ly to himself what is applicable to all in common, he will absurdly expose the secret convictions of his mind. And still, to him I would hold myself excused ; for it is no intention of mine to point at individuals, but to describe life itself and the manners of mankind. Perhaps some one will say, that I undertake a Others, agaiu, suppose that this was a proverbial expression in general use at Home. It is not improbable that it may have become so on being adopted from the work of Virgil : " Come ivhat may of it, as Sinon said." ' A7id your goodness) — Ver. 30. "Honori et meritis dedicam ilium tuis." AYe learn from ancient inscriptions that this was a customary formula in dedications. ■•^ Slavery) — Ver. 34. He probably alludes to .lEsop's state of slavery, in the service of the philosopher Xauthus. 3 To my oicn misfortune) — Ver. 40. He evidently alludes to some misfortune wiiich has befalKn him in consequence of having alluded in his work to the events of iiis own times. It has been suggested that he fell under the displeasure of Tiberius and his minister Sojanus, in consequence of the covert allusions made to them in Fables II and VI in the First Book. This question is, however, involved in impene- trable obscurity. ■• Than Sejaims) — Yer. 41. He moans that ..Elius Scjanus had acted against him as both informer, witness, and judge ; but that had an honest man condemned him to the sufferings he then experienced, he should not have complained. The nature of the punishment here alluded to is not known. Falilo T. Tin: faiu-ks oc imi.kduus, SO.'J weifjhty task. If ^sop of Phryyia, if Anacliai-sis of Scythi.'i could, by tluir genius, found a lastini^ fanu'. why should I who ani more nearly related to learned Greeee, forsiiko in slujLji^ish indolenee tlie jjjlories of my country? es|ieeially as the Thnu-ian niee numbers its own authors, and Apollo was the parent of Linus, a INluse of Orpheus, who with liis sonj^ moveil rocks and tamed wiUl beasts, anil held the current of Hebrus in sweet suspense. Away then, envy! nor lament in vain, because to me the customary fame is due. I have uri,'ed you to read thc.'^t' lines; I beg that you will give me yoar sincere opinion' of them with i/uur wcll-knowu cauduui'. Fable I. THE OLD W^OMAN AND THE CASK. An Old Woman espied a Cask,' which had been drained to the dregs, lying on the gi'ound, and which still sj)read forth h'oia its ennobled shell a delightful smell of the Faleniian lees.* After she had greedily snuti'ed it u]> her nostrils with all her might ; " O delicious fragrance,'" said ' Anacharsis of Scythia) — Ver. 52. A Scythian philosopher, and Bupposcil contemporary of ..Esop. He came to Athens in pursuit of knowledge while Solon was the lawgiver of that city. lie is said to have written works on legislation and the art of war. -' Nearer to learned Greece) — Ver. 5i. Alluding to Pieria, the place of his birth. The people of Pieria were supposed to have been of Thracian origin. ^ A cojiif: —YcT. 1. "Amphoram." Properly, the "amphora," or earthen vessel with two handles, in which^vine was usually kept * Fakritian Lees) — Ver. 2. The Falernian wine hekl the second rank in estimation among the IJomans. The territory where it was grown commenced at the " Pons Campanus," and extended from the Massic Hills to the river Vultumus. I'liny mentions three kinds, the rough, the sweet, and the thin. It is supposed to have been of an amber colour, and of considerable strength, it was the custom to write the age of the wine and the vintage on the " amphora," or cask. * O, dcliciouj>/ra(/raHce) — \'er. 5. "Anima," most probably applies to the savour or smell of the wine ; though some Commentators have thought that she addresses the cask as "anima," meaning "O dear 80ul;' othei's, that she speaks of the wine as being the soul of life; 394 THE FABLES OF PK.KDRUS. Book III- she. " how good I should say were your former contents, when the remains of them ai'e such !" What this refers to let him say who knows me.' Fable II. THE PANTHER AND THE SHEPHERD. Repayment in kind is generally made by those who are despised. A Panther* had once inadvertently fallen into a pit. The rustics saw her ; some belaboured her with sticks, others pelted her with stones ; while some, on the other hand, moved with compassion, seeing that she must die even though no one should hurt her, threw her some bread to sustain existence. Night comes on apace ; homeward they go without concern, making sure of finding her dead on the following day. She, however, after having recruited her failing strength, with a swift bounc^ oifected her escape from the pit, and with hurried jiace hastened to her den. A few days intervenirg, she sallies forth, slaughters the flocks, kills the shepherds them- selves, and laying waste every side, rages with unbridled fury. Upon this those who had shown mercy to the beast, while Walchius seems to think that she is addressing her own soul, which is quite cheered by the fumes. ' Who knows jne)— Ver. 7. Burmann thinks that the author covertly hints here at the habits of the Emperor Tiberius in his old age, who still hankered after those vicious indulgences which had been his main pursuits in his former days; or else that the Poet simply refers to human life, in the same spirit in which Seneca, Ep. Ivii., calls old age, "faex vit£E," "the lees of life." Othersagain suppose that Phsedrus alludes to his own old age, and means that those who knew him when this Fable was written, may judge from their present acquaintance with him what he must have been in his younger days. Heinsius thinks that it refere to the present state of servitude of Phicdrus, compared with bis former liberty; but, if he was manumitted, as generally supposed by Augustus, and this Fable was not written till after the death of Sejanus, that cannot be the case. - A Panther) — Ver. 2. Some have suggestea, Burmann and Guyetus in the number, that by the Panther is meant Tiberius, who, during his banishment to the isle of Khodes, occupied himself in studying how to wreak his vengeance upon his enemies at Rome, and, with the fury of the Panther, as soon as he had the opportunity, glutted his vengeance. is notion, however, seems more iugcuiou.s than well founded. i Fal'le IV. THE F.\i!i.r.s of i'ii.t:i>ui*3. 3D5 nlariued for tlioir safety, mado no di'imir to the loss of thvir flocks^ and boi^i^eil only foi- their lives. But she thus answered them: "I ivnu'ml)er him who attacked mo with stones, and him who gave me bread ; lay aside your fears ; I return as au ouemy to those only who iujuiod mu." Fable III. .ESOP AND THE FARMER One taught by experience is proverbially said to be more quick-K-/7/<'(/ than a wizard, but the reason is not told ; which, uow for the tii-st time, shall be made known by my Fable. The ewes of a certain i\Iau who reared flocks, brought forth lambs with human heads. Dreadfully alarmed at the prodigy, he runs full of concern to the soothsayers. One answei-s that it bears reference to the life of the owner, and that the danger must be averted ■with a victim. Another, no \s'iser. ailirms that it is meant that his wife is an adultress, and his children are spurious ; but that it can be atoned for by a victim of greater age.* Why enlarge ? They all difi'ei in opinions, and greatly aggravate the anxiety of the Man. -^op being at hand, a sage of nice discernment, whom nature could never deceive hy appearances, remarked : — " If you wish. Farmer, to take due precautions against this portent, tind wives for your shepherds."* Fable IV. THE BUTCHER AND THE APE. A man seeing an Ape hanging up.at a Butcher's among the rest of his commodities and provisions, enquired how it might taste f on which the Butcher, joking, replied : " Just as the head is, such, I warrant, is the taste." • 0/ prrater age) — Ver. 11. " Majori hosti4;" probablj, a sheep of two years old in.stcad of a lamb. "' Fur your nhfpherdt:) — Ver. 17. Plutarch introduces Thales in his " Couviviuni Sapiontium," astelliiiga somewhatsimilarstory. Tha'drue mit;ht, with better grace, have omitted this so-called Fable. •* How it might ta«<€)— Ver. 3. The Butcher puns upon the twofold 396 THE FABLES OF PHiEDRUS. Book IIL This I deem to be said more facetiously than correctly; for on the one hand I have often found the good-looking to be very knaves, and on the other I have known many witli ugly featui'es to be most worthy men. Fable V. ^SOP AND THE INSOLENT MAN. Success leads many astray to their ruin. An Insolent Fellow threw a stone at -^sop. " Well done," said he, and then gave him a penny, thus continuing : "Upon my faith I have got no more, but I will show you where you can get some ; see, yonder comes a rich and influential man ; throw a stone at him in the same way, and you will receive a due reward." The other, being persuaded, did as he was advised. His daring impudence, however, was dis- appointed of its hope, for, being seized, he paid the penalty on the cross. ^ Fable YI. THE FLY AND THE MULE. A Fly sat on the pole of a chariot, and rebuking the JNIule : " How slow you are," said she ; " will you not go faster ? Take care that I don't prick your neck w*ith my sting." The Mule made answer : " I am not moved by your words, but I fear him who, sitting on the next seat, guides myj'oke' Adth his pliant whip, and governs my mouth with the foam- meaning of '•'sapio," "to taste of," or "have a flavour," and "to be wise." Tlie customer uses the word in the former sense, while the Butcher answt rs it in the hitter, and perhaps in the former as well ; " Such as the he.ad is," pointing to it, " 111 warrant the wisdom of the animal to be ;"' the words at the same time bearing the meaning of, " It has an ape's head, and therefore it can only taste like the head of an ape." "Sapor" ordinarily means "flavour," or "taste;" but Cicero uses it in tht signification of wisdom or genius. Many other signi- fications of this passage have been suggested by the various Editors. ' On the a-oss)—\er. 10. The cross was especially used as an instru- ment of punishment for malefactors of low station, and, as we see here, sometimes on very trivial occasions. ■•^ Guides my yoke) — Ver. 6. "Jugum meum ;" meaning, "me who Lear the voke." 'Me VII. Tin: FABLES OF PlI.KDnUS. 307 covered rt-ins. Therefore, cease your frivolotis imjiortincnce, for I Will know when to go at a gentle ]iace, and when to nui. " In this Fahle, he may he deservedly ridiculed, who, without any stivngth, gives utteniuee to vain threats. Fable A'II. THE DOG AND THE WOLF. I will shew in a few words how sweet is Liberty. A Wolf, quite starveil with hunger, chimced to meet a well-fed Dog, and as they stopped to salute eaeh other, "Pray," said the Wolf, how is it that you are so sleek? or on what food have you made so much flesh ? I, who am fiir stronger, am perishing wnth hunger." The Dog firankly replied : "You may enjoy the same condition, if you can render the like service to your master." " What is it .^" said the other. '• To be the guardian of his threshold, and to protect the house from thieves at night." "lam quite ready for that," said the Wolf; '• at present I have to en- duiv snow and showei-s, dragging on a ^^^•etched existence in the woods. How much more plea.sant for me to be living under a roof, and, at my ease, to be stufled with plenty of victuals." " Come along, then, with me," said the Dog. As they were going along, the Wolf observed the neck of the Dog, where it was worn with the chain. " Whence comes this, my friend?" "Oh, it is nothing.*" '-'Do tell me, though." '' Because I appear to be fierce, they fosten me up in the day- time, that I may be quiet when it is light, and watch when night comes; unchained at midnight, I wander wherever I please. Bread is brought me without my asking ; from his own table my master gives me b(5hes; the sei-vants throw me bits, and whatever dainties each pei-son leaves; thus, without trouble on my part, is my belly filled." " Well, if you have a mind to go anjrtvhere, are you at liberty?" " Cer- tainly not," rej)lied the Dog. '* Then, Dog, enjoy what you boast of; I woidd not be a king, to lose my liberty." ' It is notkinfj) —\cr. 17. "Nihil est." This was a form of expres- sion used when they wished to cut short any disiigreable question, to which they did not think fit to give a direct answer 398 TaE FABLES OP PH^DRUS. Book IlL Fable VIII. THE BROTHER AND SISTER. ^ya^led by this lesson, often examine yourself. y A certain Man had a very ugly Daughter, and also a Son, remarkable for his handsome features. These, diverting themselves, as children do, chanced to look into a mirror, as it lay upon their mother's chair.^ He praises his own good looks; she is vexed, and cannot endure the raillery of her boasting brother, construing ever^iihing (and how could she do otherwise ?) as a reproach arjainst herself. Accordingly, off she runs to her Father, to be avenged on him in her turn, and with great rancour, makes a charge against the Son, how that he, though a male, has been meddling with a thing that belongs to the women. Em- bracing them both, kissing them, and dividing his tender affection between the two, he said : " I wish you both to use the mirror every day : you, that you may not spoil your beauty by ^^cious conduct ; you, that you may make amends by your virtues for your looks." Fable IX. SOCRATES TO HIS FRIENDS. The name of a friend is common ; but fidelity is rarely found. Socrates having laid for himself the foimdation of a small house (a man, whose death I would not decline, if I could acquii'e similar fame, and UJce him I could yield to envy, if 1 might be but acquitted* when ashes); one of the people, no ' Their mother's chair) — Vcr. 4. The " cathedra " was properly a soft or easy chair used in the " gj-nncctea," or women's apartments. These were of various forms and sizes, and had backs to them ; it was considered effeminate for the male sex to use them. "Selloe" was the name of seats common to both sexes. The use of the "speculum," or mirror, was also confined to the female sex ; indeed, even Pallas or Minerva was represented as shunning its use, as only befitting her more volup- tuous fellow-goddess, Venus. - / might he nrquitted; — Ver. 4. He alludes to the fate of Socrates, Fable X. THE fables of ni-F.Dura. 399 nijittor who, avwnqsf such passing rrniarfiK us nrv usiuil m these cases, asked : " Wliy «lo you, so lUmeil as yt)U arc, l>uilTEVING, AND NOT BELIEVING. It is dangerous a.ike to believe or to disbelieve. Of either fact, I will briefly lay before you an instance. Hippolytus met his death,* because his step-mother wa.s believed : because Cassandra was not believed, Troy fell. Therefore, we oujjht to examine strictly into the truth of a matter, i-ather than srifl'er an erroneous impression to pervert our judgment. But, that I may not weaken iliis truth by refi-rring to fabulous antiquity, I will relate to you a thing that hajipened within my own memory. A certain married Man. wlio was very fond of his "Wife, having now provided the white toga' for his Son, was pri- vatelv taken aside by his Freedman, who hoped that he should be substituted as his next heir, and who, after telling many lies about the youth, and still more about tlie mis- conduct of the chaste Wife, added, what he knew would espe- cially grieve one .so fond, that a gallant was in the habit of paying her \nsits, and that the honor of his house was stained with iiase adidtcry. Enraged at the supposed guilt of his Wife, the husband pretended a journey to his country-house, ami privately stayed behind in to%vn ; then at night he suddenly entered at the door, making straight to his Wife's apartment , who, after he was put to death by his countrj-men, was publicly pro- nounced to be innocent, and a statue was erected in his honour. • ^f'^t his death}— YcT. 3. The story of Hippolytus, who met hie death in con.sequence of the treachery of his stepmother Phredra, is related at length in the Play of Euripides of that name, and in the Fifteenth Book of Ovids Metam~orphosc3. The fate of Cass-indna. the dauijhter of Priam, who in vain prophesied the fall of Troy, is related in the Second Book of the iEneid, 1. 246, et .vc^. • The ichitf tofja)—Ycx. 10. The " toga pn-tcxta," or Consular robe, was worn by the male children of the Koman;; till their sixiccnth year; when Ihcy a.ssumcd the ordinary "toga,'" which was called '"pura," because it had no purple border, and was entirely white. 400 THE FABLES OF PH.EDRU3. Book III. . in which the mother had ordered her son to sleep, keeping a' strict eye over his ripening years. While they are seeking i for a light, while the servants are hurrying to and fro, unable to restrain the violence of his raging passion, he approaches the bed, and feels a head in the dark. When he finds the hair cut close,^ he plunges his sword into the sleeper's breast, caring for nothing, so he but avenge his injury. A light being brought, at the same instant he beholds his son, and his chaste wife sleeping in her apartment ; who, fast locked in her first sleep, had heard nothing : on the spot he inflicted punishment on himself for his guilt, and fell upon the sword which a too easy belief had unsheathed. The accusers indicted the woman, and dragged her to Rome, Defore the Centumviri.'' Innocent as she was, dark suspicion weighed heavily against her, because she had become possessor of his property : her patrons stand * and boldly plead the cause of , the guiltless woman. The judges then besought the Emperor, Augustus that he would aid them in the discharge of theil' oath, as the intricacy of the case had embarrassed thei After he had dispelled the clouds raised by calumny, and had discovei'ed a sure source of truth*: "Let the Freedman," said he, " the cause of the mischief, suffer punishment ; but as for her, at the same instant bereft of a son, and deprivec" of a husband, I deem her to be pitied rather than con4 demned. If the father of the family had thoroughly enquire? into the charge preferred, and had shrewdly sifted the lyin^ ' The hair cut close) — Ver. 27. This is appropriately introduced, as] the bair of youths was allowed to grow long until they had reached the age of manhood, on which it was cut close, and consecrated to the Gods. 2 The Centumviri) — Ver. 35. The " Centumviri"' were a body of | 105 oflScers, whose duty it was to assist the praetor in litigated questions. They were sometimes called "judices seleeti, " or " commissionei j ludges." 3 The patrons stand) — Ycr. 37. The patrons stood while pleading the causes of their clients, while the judges sat, as with us. ■• Sure source of truth)— \cr. 43. It is suggested that the sourc of information here alluded to was the evidence of the slaves, who had heard their master mention in his last moments the treachery of hisj freedman. It is not probable that the freedman voluntarily came for«j ward, and declared the truth to Augustus. In 1. 30, Augustus is called " Divus," as having been deified after his death. Domitian was the tird who was so called during his lifetime. ,' 11.' XIT. TiiK rAUi.r.s of imi j :i>i:r.s. 401 isutions, he would not, bv a disnuil crime, have mined his house from the very t'oinulation." L«^t the ear ch'spise nothini;, nor yet let it accord implicit belief at once: since not only do those err whom you would be far fi-om suspeetins, but those who do not err are su/iie- tuiifs falsely and maliciously accused. This also may be a warninij to the simjile, not to form a j«idi:ment on anything according to the opinion of another; for the ditlcrent aims of mortals either follow the bias of their goodwill or their prejudice. He alone will be correctly estimated In/ i/oti, whom you judge of by jiersonal exjierience. These jioints I have eulai'ged upon, as by too great brevity 1 have utl'cuded some. Fable XI. THE EUNUCH TO THE ABCSIYE MAN. A Eunuch had a dispute with a scurrilous fellow, who, ia addition to obscene remarks and insolent abuse, reproached liim with the misfortune of his mutilated person. '• Look you," sj\id file Eunuch, '' this is the only point as to which I am etfectually staggered, forasmuch as I want the evidenci'S of integrity. But why, simpleton, do you charge me with the faults of fortune ? That alone is really disgraceful to a nxou, which he has deserved to suffer."' Fable XII. , THE COCK AND THE PEARL. \ A young Cock, while seeking ^r food on a dunghill, found a Pearl, and exclaimed : " What a tine thing are you I ♦o be lying in so unseemly a place. If any one sensible of your value had espied you iiere, you would long ago have j returned to your former brilliancy. And it is I who have ' Desfrred to svffrr) — Ver. 7. Though this moral may apply to all misfortunes in general, it is supposed by .some of the Coinuientatorp ' that by the insulter some individual notorious for his adulteries waa ■ intended to be lepresentcd ; who consc<|uently merited by law to bd reduced to the sac c tdtiution as Ihc innoeLUt Eunuch. 2 o 402 THE FABLES OF PH^DRUS. Book III. found you, I to whom food is far preferable ! I can be of no use to you or you to me." This I relate for those who have no relish for me.' Fable XIII. THE BEES AND THE DROXES, THE WASP SITTING AS JUDGE. } Some Bees had made their combs in a lofty oak. Some lazy Drones asserted that these belonged to them. The cause was brouii as the Sac;e.- a laiii;hor at otlu-rs ratlicr tlinn ono tn ha laiiijluil at,— jtiiveived this, ho phueil an unstniii<^ Ijow in tho inidille of tlie road : " Hark you, wis(? man.'' said ho, " unriddle what I have dune." The i>oo]tU» t,'atlitT round. The man tormonts his invention a K)nix tinio, Imt cannot make out the n>ason of the ]iro[iosi'd quostion. At hist he j;ives up. Uj>on this, the victorious I'hilosojihor says: "You will soon break the how, if you always keep it bent; but it j you loosen it, it will be tit for use when you want it." Thus ought recreation sometimes to bo piven to the mind, that it may return to you better fitted tor thought. Fable XV. THE DOG TO THE LA:^^5. i A T)o«t said to a Lamb* bleating among some She-Goats : "Simj'kton. you are mistaken; your mother is not here;" : and pointed out some Sheep at a distance, in a flock by them- ; selves. '• I am not looking for her." said the Lamb, '' who, when i she thinks tit. conceives, then carries her unknown burden for a certain number of months, and at last empties out the fallen I bundle; but for her who, prcFjnting her uddei', nourishes I me. and deprives her young ones of milk that I may not go jwthout." '•Still," said the Dog. "she ought to be preferred 'who brought you foi-th." "Not at all: how was she to know whether I should be born black or white ?* However, 'wrote thi3 FaMe in defence of his early patron Augustus, against those "' ■■ '■onsurotl him for the levity of liis conduct in his old age, as we : from Suetonius that he amused himself with fi.shing, playing with pebliles, or nuts with boys. — For soxne account of Roman games wiih nuts, see " The Walnut-tree," a fragment ot Ovid, in vol. iii. p. 491, I of liohn's Translation of that author. ' ' To a Lamb)—\ er. 1. Burmann suggests that this Fable is levelled iajrainst the cruelty of parents, who- were much in the habit of exposing '■ r children, who were consequently far from indebted to them. ibe conjectures that the syatem of employing wet-nurses is intended J 'o be censured. , ' lilitrh or h-h tr) — Ver. 10. This, thouirh disregarded by the mother, .would be ot imporiuuce to him, aii the black lumba weic first selected for Bachtioj. 2 d2 404 THE FAJ3LES OF PHjajRus. Book III. suppose she did know ; seeing I was bom a male, tnily she conferred a great obligation on me in giving me birth, that 1 might expect the butch'.T every hour. Why should she, who had no power in engendering me, be preferred to her who took pity on me as I lay, and of her o"\vn accord shewed me a welcome aflfection ? It is kindliness makes parents, not the ordinary coiirse of N'atiire." By these lines the author meant to show that men are averse to fixed rules, but ai-e won by kind services. Fable XYL THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE OWL. He who does not conform to courtesy, mostly pays the penalty of his superciliousness. A Grasshopper was making a chirping that was disagree- able to an Owl, who was wont to seek her living in the dark, and in the day-time to take her rest in a hollow tree. She was asked to cease her noise, but she began much moi-e loudly to send forth her note ; entreaties urged again only set her on still more. The Owl, when she saw she had no i-emedy, and that her words were slighted, attacked the chatterer with this stratagem : " As your song, which one might take for the tones of Apollo's Ip-e, will not allow me to go to sleep, I have a mind to drink some nectar which Pallas lately gave me -^ if you do not object, come, let us drink together." The other, who was parched with thii-st, as soon as she found her voice comjilimented, eagerly flew up. The Owl, coming forth from her hollow, seized the trembling thing, and put her to death. Thus what she had refused when alive, she gave when dead. ' Pallas lately gave me) — Vcr, 13. The Owl was sacred to Pallas. I il.le XVIII. Tllli FABI^ES OF PH;£DI!U3L 405 Faiu.k XVIT. THE TREES UNDER Tin-: PROTECTION OF Tin: CiODS. The Gods 'in days of yore made choice of such Trees as thov wished to be under their protection. The Oak pleased Jupiter, the INIyrtle Venus, tlie Ijaurel Phoebus, the Pino Cybele, the h>fty Poplar Hercules. ]\Iinerva, wonderin«» why they had chosen the barren ones, enquired tlio reiuson. Jupiter answeivd : "That we may not seem to sell the honor for the fruit." " Now, so heaven help me,"' said she, " let any one say what he likes, but the Olive is more pleasing to me ou account of its fruit." Then said the Father of the Gods and the Creator of men : " O dauLchter, it is with justice that you suv called wise by all ; unless what we do is useful, vain is our ^dory."' This little Fable admonishes us to do nothing that is not protltabla. Fable XVIII. THE PEACOCK TO JUNO. A Peacock cart of a sepulchral inscription, at Alba Julia or Weisscnburg, m TiaubylvaoJiL 4^*6 THE FABLES OF PHJ.DRUS. Book ni at the very instant he raised his voice. The Goddess, ti» console him. replied: "But you sui'pass the nujhtin(]ale in beauty, you surpass 1dm in size; the brilliancy of the eme- rald shines upon your neck ; and you luifold a tail begemmed Avith painted plumage." " Wherefore _(7/i'<' me," he retorted,] " a beauty that is dumb, if I am surpassed in voice r" " Bj the will of the Fates," said she, '■' have your respectiAT qualities been assigned ; beauty to you, strength to tl Eagle, melody to the Nightingale, to the Baven presagci unpropitious omens to the Crow ; all of these ai"e contented with their owti endo^^^nents." Covet not that which has not been granted you, lea your baffled hopes sink down to useless repinings. Fable XIX. ^SOFS ANSWER TO THE INQUISITIVE MAN. When .^sop was the only servant of his master, he ordered to prepare dinner earlier than usual. Accordingly he went round to several houses, seeking for fire,^ and last found a place at which to light liis lantern. Then he had made a rather long circiTit, he shortened the wa back, for he went home straight throiigh the Forum. The a certain Busybody in the crowd said to him: "/Esop, wl with a light at mid-day r" "I'm in search of a man,'"' he ; and went hastily homewards. If the inquistive fellow reflected on this answer, he miv have perceived that the sage did not deem him a man, wl could so unseasonably rally him when busy. ■ Seeking for fire) — Ver. 3. Fire was kindled iu general by beil kept smouldering iu a log under the ashe.s. from day to day. for culina purposes ; or else it was begged from a neighbour, as wo learn from Aulularia of IMautus, A. 1., Sc. ii., 1. 12 et seq.; and so generally wd this done that we find it stated in the Trinummus, A. II., .sc. ii., I. 6| that it was the custom uot to refuse fire when asked for even to enemy. -' In search of a ma7i^ — Ver 9. iNTeaiiing that he did not deem enquirer to be a man. The same story is told ia Dio!;'enc3 Lacrliiie^ i Dioyencs the CYui«. TUK F.VBI£S OF Pll.lOiUUS. 407 EPILOGUE.' I Tlioro are yet Tema.\n\n^ Fables for mo to write, Imt T jiur- poscly iil'stiiin ; lii-st, tliat I may not serm troubU'snine to you, whom a multiplicity of matters distraet ; and next, • that, if jH'n.'haiiee any other j)er.son is desirous to make a . like attempt, he may still have somi/ enjoyment ; the sooner 1 receive i/oiir favniirs, the longer shall I have the benefit therrof. While there are yet some remnants of a we:U"ied life,* there is room for your goodness ; in aftertimcs your kindness will in vain endeavour to aid me, infirm with old age ; for then I shall have ceased to be able to enjoy your < kindness, and death, close at hand, will be claiming its due. I deem it foolish to address my entreaties to you, when yoiu- • compa.ssion is so ready., sjiontaneously, to render assistance. I A criminal has often gained pardon by confessing; how much moiv reasonably ought it to be granted to the innocent ? : It is your province* now to judge of my cause ; it will fall ' This and the following Prologue seem better suited to their present '• places tlian to tlie close of the Fourth Book, where in most of the , editions they appear. ' Of a iceniird lifp.> — Ver. 15. It is Impossible to say with any certainty to what he refers; but the most probable conjecture is that he I h&.s apain pot into trouble through his compositions, and is begging I Eutychus, in some public capacity, immediately to give a fivourabie decision in his behalf. That "l..an'4:uens oevum " means a life worn out with nii.«tortune, and does not rctcr to himself as sinking, in want, under I old a^'o, is evident from the next line. It has been conjectured by some ' that l'ha?dni.'< wrote these lines in prison, where he had been thrown through the malice of his enemies. . •* Jt M your province' — \er. 2i. He is supposed to allude to sonic I jadicial position held by Eutychus, which he would have to vacate at the end of a year, and be succeeded b-y others, probably not so favoural.lv deposed to himself. 408 THE FABLES OF PH.HDRUS. to others by-and-by ; and again by a like revolution, the turn of others will come. Pronounce the sentence, as religion — as youi- oath permits; and give me reason to rejoice in your decision. My feelings have passed the limits they had pro- posed ; but the mind is with difficulty restrained, which, conscious of unsullied integrity, is exposed to the insults of spiteful men. " Who are they K' you will ask : they will be seen in time. For my part, so long as I shall continue in my tenses, I shall take care to recollect that " it is a dangerous thing for a man of humble birth to murmur in public.'" * To murmur in public) — Ver. 33. " I'aliim mutire plcbcio piaculuBi eai." These words are quoted from the Telephus of Euniui. •LllK h'AliU^ Oh- i'U.LUllUS. 409 BOOK TV. r R O L O G U R To Pauticulo. '.\nion T h:i(l (loterminecl to juit an end to my lal outt, with the view that thoiv nii^ht bo material enouji;h ItJ'f for others, in my mind I silontly condomned iiii/ resolve. For even if there is any one desirous of the like fame, how will he guess what it is I have omitted,* so as to wish to hand down that same to posterity; since each man has a turn oi' thinking of his own, and a tone peculiar to himself. It was not, therefore, oiii/ fickleness, but assured gi'ounds, that set me upon writing ai/ain. Wherefore, Pai-ticulo,' as you are amused by Fal'les (which I will style " ^-I'^sopian," not "those of ^i^sop ;" for whereas he published but few, I have brought out a gi-eat many, employing the old style, but with modern subjects), now at your leisure you .shall peruse a Fourth Book. If envy shall choose to carp at it, so long as it can- not imitate,' why let it carp. I have gained glory enoi>f/Ii, in that you, and others like to you, have quoted my word.s in your \\Titings, and have thought me worthy of being long remembered. Why should I stand in need of the applause of the illiterate ? ' / have omitted) — Ver. 5. "Divinabit" seems preferaWe here to ■ liainnabit," or "demonstrabit," the other readings; and Btirraann is probably risht in supposing tiiat he means to .«ay that many of tlie ./Kaopiaa fables had not yet been used by him, and though others may make use of them as bearing a general moral, they will not be ai>ie so well as him.self to point their moral in reference to individuals or classes, in consequenee of his advantage in having already adapted many of them to the censure of purticular vices. • 'Parlicul'))—VcT. 10. Of Particulo nothing whatever is known, except that he was a freedmaa. ' Cannot inii-'a/*;)— Ver. 16. Gronovius thinks that he alludes to llm Greek provcrl) ' .Mui/itioOat paoiov i) fitfitlaoai." " 'Tis easier to Llaiuo tiua to imitate." 410 THE FABLES OF PH^DRUa Book IV. Fable 1. THE ASS AND THE PETESTS OF CYBELE He who has been born to ill luck, not only jiasses an un- happy life, but even after death the cruel rigour of destiny pursues him. The Galli, priests of Cybele,^ were in the habit, on their beijEring excursions, of leading about an Ass, to carry their burdens. "When he was dead with fatigue and blows, his hide being stripped off, they made themselves tambom-ines' there- with. Afterwards, on being asked by some one what they | had done with their favourite, they answered in these words: " He fancied that after death he would rest in quiet; but see, dead as he is, fx-esh blows are heaped upon him." Fable II. THE WEASEL AND THE MICE This way of writing seems to you facetious; and noj doubt, while we have nothing of more importance, wej do sport with the pen. But examine these Fables with atten-j tion, and what useful lessons will you find concealed Tinder] them ! Things are not always what they seem; first appear-] ances deceive many: few minds understand what skill has. hidden in an inmost corner. That I may not apjiear to] have said this witliout reason, I wiU add a Fable about thej Weasel and the Mice. A Weasel, worn out with years and old age, being unable to overtake the active Mice, rolled herself in flour, and tlu-e\ herself carelessly along in a dark spot. A Mouse, thinking lier] food, jumped upon her, and, being caught, was i>ut to death ; ' Priests of C'i/bcle)—yvv. 4. During ilie Festival of CyLele. the Galli| or eunueh-pricsts of the Godilctis went about with au image of her seated on an ass, and boating a tambourine, for tiie purpose of making a collection to detray the expenses of the worship, They were called by the Greeks ynTpayvitrai, "Collectors for the Mother." See the] Fasti of Ovid, B. iv., 1. 350, vol. .i. p. 149, ol Bohn's Translation. - Tambourines) — Vcr. 7. " The tympana," which were almost exactly ■ Eimilar to our tambourines, were covered with the skin of a^cs or of' oxen, and were beaten with the hand or a small stick Fn1>\- TV. Tiir. KAni,r.s of rii.r.mu';*. 411 nnotlur in like iiianiu'r jH-risluil, ami tluii ii tliinl. Soiuo othi'fs hiivini; I'oUowcd. an old briiulK-il trllow came, who liod fscapiil siians ami inonso-traps t'lill ul't ; ami virwiui; from afar the stratjii^oin of tin- crafty foe: 'So fire you well/" said he, '• you that ai-c lying there, as you lU'e tlour." FAni.E IT I. THE FOX AND THE GRAPES. I'^r^'cil liy huii'ier. a Fox, loa]ung with all her micrht, tvicl to ivach a cluster of Cirajtcs upon a lofty vine. When she fotnitl she couUl not reach them, she left them, sayinji '> "Tlicy are not ripe yet; I dont like to eat them wliilo sour." Those who dispara^re what they eauuot perform, ought to apply this lesson to themselves. Fable TV. THE HOESE AND THE "SYILD BOAR. While a Wild Boar was wallowinfj, he muddied the shallow water, at which a Hoi-se had been in the habit of quenching his thii-st. Upon this, a disagreement arose. Tlie Horse,* enraged with the beast, sought the aid of man, and, raising him on his back, returned against the foe. After the Horse- man, hurling his javelins, h:id s'ain the Boar, he is said to have spoken thus: ''I am g'ad that I gave assistance at your entn\»ties, for I have captured a prey, and have learned how useful you are;" and so compelled him, unwilling as he was. to submit to the rein. Then scud the Horse, sori'owing: " Fool that I am ! while .seeking to revenge a trifling matter, T have nut with slavery." ^ This Fable will admonish the passionate, that it is better to be iujvired with impunity, than to ])ut ourselves in the l»ower of another. ' So fare i/ni tcell) — Ver. 21. "Sic valeaa." — "Fare you well, if you •re flour, wiiick you arc not I wi.sh you luck as much as I believe you are wh.it you pretend to l>e. i. e., not at nil." • I'he /lojxf) -Ver. 3. " 8onii)e.<," lileially "soundinff-hoof." This WM a name commonly given to the lioise by the lioiuaus. Lucaa repeat cilly calU a war-horse by this cpitheL 412 THE FABLES OF PH^EDIiUS, Bojk lY. Fable V. ^SOP INTERPRETING A \YILL. E ■will show to posterity, by a short story, that there is often moi-e merit in one man than in a multitude. A Person, at his death, left three Dauci;hters ; one hand- some, and hunting for the men with her eyes ; the second, an industrious spinner of wool,^ frugal, and fond of a country life; the third, given to wine, and very ugly. Now the old man made their Mother his heir, on this condition, that she should distribute his whole fortune equally among the three, but in such a manner that they should not possess or enjoy what was given them; and further, that as soon as they should cease to have the property which they had re- ceived, they should pay over to their Mother a hundred thou- sand sesterces. The rumour spreads all over Athens. The anxious Mother consults the leai'ned in the law. No one can explain in what way they are not to ])03sess what has been given, or have the enjoyment of it; and then again, in what way those who have received nothing, are to pay money. After a long time had been wasted, and still the mean- ing of the will could not be understood, the Parent, dis- regarding the strict letter of the law, consulted equity.* For the Wanton, she sets aside the garments, female trinkets, silver bathing- vessels, eunuchs, and beardless boys: for the Worker in wool, the fields, cattle, farm, labourers, oxen, beasts of burden, and implements of husbandly: for the Drinker, a store-room,^ well stocked with casks of old ' Spinner of icooD—Y or. 5. " Lanificam." Working in wool was the constant employment of the more industrious among the females of the higher class. Ovid, in the Fasti, Book ii., 1. 74'2, represents Lucretia as heing found thus employed hy her husband and Tarquinius. The Emperor Augustus refused to wear any clothes that were not s-oven by the females of his family. 2 Consulted equitij) — Ver. 20. This seems to be the meaning of "fidem advocare :" hut the passage has caused considerable difficulty to the Commentators. •'* A store-iooiii)— YcT. 25. The " apotheca " was a place in the upper part of tiie house, in which the liomans frcnucntly placed the aiuphone in which their wine was stored. It was situate above the " fumarium,' ts the smoke was thought to heighten the flavour ol t))e wiue. TMe VI. THE F.VDLES OP rUl-DUl'S. 113 :.', a liiicly finislu'd house,' and (U'li^htful ^ai Jons. Wli. n waij intiiuliiiLC to tlistrilmto what was tlnis sft apart lor li, aiul the jiublic approved, who knew them well; ^'Esop .lenly stood up in the midst of the nudtituile, ami r.r- iicJ: "OI if cuuscioiisuess remained to their buried father, ,. w would he urievo that the peoi»le of Athens ai'o unable to int.rpret his wdl !" (.)u this, being questioned, ho cxjilained the error of thera all ; "The house and the furniture, with the line gardens, and old wines, give to the Worker in wool, so fond of a utrv life. The clothes, the peiu-ls, the attendants, and ' ■ iier things, make over to Iwr who spends her life in luxury. 'I'Ik' tields. the vines, and the lloeks, with the shejdurds, prc- t to the Wanton. Not one will be able to retain jiosses- 1 of what is alien to her taste. The Ungainly one will -II her wardrobe to procure wine; the Wanton will part w uh the lands to procure tine clothes ; and she who delights ill cattle, and attends to her spinning, will get rid of her 1 '\urious abode at any price. Tims, no one will possess it was given, and they will pay to their Mother the sum ed from the price of tlie things, which each of them sold." Thus did the sagacity of one man find out what had baffled liie superficial enquiries of many. Faele YI. THE BATTLE OF THE MICE AND THE WEASELS. When the Mice, overcome by the army of the Weasels, o.-e History is painted in our taverns^), took to flight, and i"wded in trepidation about their riaiTow lurldng-holes, with ' difliculty getting in, they managed, however, to escape death. • A finthj finidhed house) — Ver. 26. "rolitam" probably refers to I the care with which the houses of the opulent in cities were smoothed ; by the workman's art. According to some Commentators, however, \ " doniuj politu " here means " a house furnished with cvtiy luxury." ' ' In our tavern«)- Ver. 2. We learn troni Horace and other ancient I writers, that it was the custom to j>aint comic suljccts on the walls of the taverns; and similar gubjccts have been found painted on walls at Pompeii. 41 4 THE FABLES OF PH.EDRUS. Book IV. Their Leaders, who had fastened horns to their heads, iu order that they might have a conspicuous sign for their troops to follov, in battle, stuck fist at the entrance, and were cap- tured by the enemy. The victor, sacrificing them -with greedy teeth, plunged them into the Tartarean recesses of his capacious paunch. Whenever a people is reduced to the last extremity, the high position of its chiefs is in danger; the humble com- monalty easily linds safety in obscurity. Fable VII. THE POET'S DEFENCE AGAINST THE CENSURERS OF HIS Fx\.BLES. You, fastidious critic, who carp at my writings, and dis- dain to read trifles of this kind, endure with some small patience this little book, while I smooth down the severity of your brow, and /Esop comes forward in a new and more lofty style.^ Would that the pine had never fallen on the siimmits of Pelion* under the Thessalian axe! and that Argus had never, with the aid of Pallas, invented a way boldly to meet cer- tain death, in the ship which, to the destruction of Greeks and Barbarians, first laid open the bays of the inhospitable Euxine. For both had the house of the pi-oud ^etes to lament it, and the realms of Pelias' fell by the giiilt of Medea, who, after concealing by various methods the cruelty of her dis- position, thei'e efiected her escape, by means of the limbs* of ' More lofty style) — Vcr. 5. " Cothurnis," literally " the buskins of Tragedy." - Summits of Pclion) — Vcr 0. The ship Argo was said to have been l)uilt of wood grown on Blount Pclion. The author alludes to the expedition of .lason to Colchis to fetch tlience the Golden Fleece. ^ The realms of Pel i as) — Vcr. 13. He alludes to the death of Pelias, King of Thessaly, through the schemes of Medea, daughter of iEetes, King of Colciiis, at the hands of his own daughters. See Ovid's Meta- morphoses, B. vii. 1. 297, etseq. * Limbs of lur brother)— War. 15. When, on her flight with Jason, jEetes pursued his daughter Jledca, she, having taken with her her brother Al)syrtus, in onlcr to retard her father in the pursuit, cut her brother in pieces, and scattered his liuihs in the way. Thus, while the father was employed in gathering tiie limbs ot his son. Jledea made lier ctecape. The place where this happened was thence said to have hud FnMe TX, Tiir r.vnT.iis ok rii.i:i>nr<\, 4!S I hor brother, and lioiv oniluurd tlic liaiuls «)t tho diiiifjhtt'rs of Peliiu* in thoir father's lilouil. What tliink ytm of this ? *' Tliis, too, is mere folly," say you, *■ and is an untnie story: for loiii^ hefoiv this, Minos, <>f ■ nioiv aneient il;iti", suhjoeteil the vlyL,'iean seas with his lleet, and by seasoniihlo correction, ]>unishelly, and, to gain a reputation lor wisdom, would cchmuo heaven ilself. F.vRLr. VTTT. THE VIPER AND THE FILE. Lot him who with cri'oedy teeth attacks one who can bite harder, consiiler himself described in this Fable. A Viper came'* into a smith's workshop ; and while on the search whether there was anything; tit to eat, fastened her teeth upon a File. That, however, disdainfully ex- claimed : "Why, fool, do you try to wound me with your teeth, who am in tho habit of gnawing a&ondcr evcrv kind of Lion '(" Fable IX THE FOX AND TIJE GOAT. As soon as a crafty man has fall?5h into danger, he seeks to make his escape by the sacrifice of another. tho name of Tomi ; and to this place Ovid was banished by Augustus. See the .Story rclatfl in the Tri-;tia of Ovid, B. iii. El. ix. ' If neither Fahles) —Wt. '22. By "fabcll;e," he probahly means .^Uopian fables, wliile by "fahnlaj," the more lofty stories of trai;edy ■re meant By " Cato," he means a ccnsoriou.-^ or over-scrupulous reader. '* A Viper entpre(J)—Yox. 3. Lokman, the .\nhian Fabulist, ha^ Llie ■uae fable i but there a Cat plays the part of the Viper. 416 THE FABLES OF PHJIDEUS. Eook J V. lf»! A Fox, through inadvertence, having fallen into a well,* and beiag closed in by the sides which were too high for her,"' if a Goat parched with thirst came to the same spot, and asked > »fl whether the water was good, and in plenty. The other, de- vising a stratagem, replied : " Come down, mi/ friend: such is b the goodness of the water, that my j^leasure in drinking can- not be satisfied." Lonubeard descended ; then the Fox, mounting on his high horns, escajied from the Well, and left the Goat to stick fast in the enclosed mud. Fable X. OF THE VICES OF MEN. Jupiter has loaded us with a couple of Wallets : the one, filled with our own vices, he has placed at our backs, tha othe)', heavy with those of others, he has hung before. From this circumstance, we are not able to see our own faults : but as soon as others make a sHp, we ai'e ready to censure. Fable XI. A THIEF PILLAGIXG THE ALTAE OF JUPITER A Thief lighted his Lamp at the altar of Jupiter, and then plundered it by the help of its own light. Just as he was taking his departure, laden with the results of liis sacrilege, the Holy Place suddenly sent forth these words : " Although these were the gifts of the wicked, and to me abominable, so much so that I care not to be spoiled of them, still, profane man, thou shalt pay the penally with thy life, when here- after, the day of punishment, appointed by fate, amves. But, that our fire, by means of wliich piety woi-ships the awful Gods, may not afibrd its light to crime, I forbid that henceforth there shall be any such interchange of light.'' Accordingly, to this day, it is neither hnvful for a lamp to be lighted at the fire of the Gods, nor yet a sacrifice kindled from a lamp.^ ' Fallen into a well) — Vcr. 3. Pome of the Commentators think that Tiberius and S( j imis arc pointed at in tliis Fable. " Frovi a lainp) — \cv. 13. 'i'be ancients were compelled to light sacrifices to the Gods from torches, and not vitb tire from a lamp, fcit 'aMoXIII. THE F.Vni^ES OF PHiEDRUS. 417 No otlur than he who invented this Fable, conld exi)lain ow many useful lessons it aHonls. In the fii-st iilaee, it >aehes that those whtini you ycui-self have brought up, may fteu be t'ountl tlie most hostile to you: then aLjain. it shows lat erimesare jmnishetl not thmu^'h the wrath of the (.Jods, lit at the time api.ointeil by tlie Kates: lastly, it warns the nty homnirs, niid to ISO the hiidLTc that helonipi to your rank, so long aa they xe not sharers in your eoui-aije." This Fal)Ie traohes you to hear that those who are inferior o you in merit should bo like you in outside ap^jcaraiices. Fable XVI. TTTE riLOT AND THE MAHTNERS. a certain man complaining of his «(/ir;-5e fortune, ^3op, le purjiose of consoling him, invented this J^\thlc. A ship which had lieen tossed by a fierce tempest (while ' I iissengei-s were all in tears, and filled with apprehensions ith) on the day sudilenly ehanging to a serene aspect, _ i to be borne along in safety upon the buoyant waves, nd to iusjiire the mariners with an excess of gladness. On his, the Pilot, who had been rendered wise by experience, einarked : '"We ought to be moderate in our joy, and to omplain with caution; for the whole of life is a mixture of rief and joy." Fable XVII. THE EMBASSY OF THE DOGS TO JUPITER. The Dogs once sent* Ambassadors to Jupiter, to entreat f him a happier lot in life, and that he would deliver 'hem from the insulting treatment of man, who gave them •read mixed with bran, and satisfied their most urgent hunger .nth filthy off.d. The ambassadors set out, hut with no hasty teps, while snufl5ng with their nostrils for food in every filth, •ieing summoned, they faU to make their appearance. After lome difficulty Mercury finds them at last, and brings them ' ' The Dons once sent) — Ver. 1. It is supposed that in this singular 'ible, Phaever, those who live in retirement, and take their ease, come creeping in last of all, that their absence may not injure them. Among these Menander, famous^ for his Come- dies (which Demetrius, who did not know him, had read, and had admired the genius of the man), perfumed with unguents, and clad in a Howing robe, came with a mincing and languid step. As soon as the Tp-ant caught sight of him at the end of the train : " What effeminate wretch," said he, " is this, who presumes to come into my presence r" Those near him made answer : " This is Menander the Poet." Changed in an instant, he exclaimed : " A more agreeable looking man could not possibly exist." Fable II. THE TRAYELLEES AND THE ROBBEE. Two Soldiers having fallen in with a Eobber, one fled, while the other stood his ground, and defended himself with a stout right-hand. The Eobber slain, his cowardly companion comes running up, and draws his sword; then tlirowing back his travelling cloak,^ says : "Let's have him;" " rU take care he shall soon know whom he attacks." On this, he who had vanquished the robber made ansicer : " I wish you had seconded me just now at least with those words ; I should have been still more emboldened, believing them true ; now keej) your sword quiet, as well as your silly tongue, that you may be able to deceive others who don't know you. I, who have experienced with what speed you take to your heels, know full well that no dependence is to be placed upon your valour." Tliis story may be a})plied to him who is courageous in prosperity, in times of danger takes to flight. > Menander, famous) — Ver. 9. Menander, the inventor of the New Comedy. Some of the Comedies of Terence are Translations from his works. -' Jlis travelling cloak) — Ver. 5. The " prenula " was a travelling- cloak made of leather or wool, with a hood attached to it, to cover the head. Filble V. THE FAUI.KS ov vii.v.vnis. 4'2'J Faim.k TTT. THE BALD MAN AND THK FLY. A Fly liit the bare pato of a Bald INFaii ; wlio, cndoa- vourius? to crush it, gixve liiuisolf a lieavy lilow. Tluni sjiitl the Fly joiriiigly : " You wanted to revenge the stini:; of a tiny insect with death ; what will you do to yoursi-lf, who have added insult to injury r" T/ie Mini made answi-r : " I am easily reconciled to myself, because I know that thei*o was no intention of iloing harm. But you, worthless insect, and one of a contemptible race, who take a delight in drink- ing liuman blood, I coukl wish to destroy you, even at a heavier jtenalty." This Fable teaches that pardon is to be granted to him who en's through mistake. But him who is drsignedly mis- cluevous, I deem to be desei-ving of aii^ punishment. Fable IV. THE MAN A^T> THE ASS. A Man having sacrificed a young boar to the god Her- cules, to whom he owed performance of a vow viade for the preservation of his health, ordered the remains of the barley to be set for the Ass. But he i-efused fo touch it, and said : "I woxild most willingly accejjt your food, if he who had been fed upon it had not had his throat cut." Warned by the significance of this Fable, I have always been careful to avoid the gain that exposed to hazard. " But," say you, " those who have ^got riches by rapine, are ttill in possession of them." Come, then, let us enumerate those, who, Vjeing detected, have come to a bad end ; you wDl find that those so punished constitute a great majority. Bashness brings luck to -a few, misfoi-tune to most. Fable V. THE BUFFOON AND THE COUNTRYMAN. Men are in the habit of en-ing throurjh prrjudice : and r 430 THE FABLES OF PH.EDRUS. Book V. •while they stand up in defence of their erroneous notions, are wont to be di'iven by plain facts to confession of their mistakes. A I'ich i\Ian, about to entertain the people "svith gi'and shows, in\'ited all, by the promise of a reward, to exhibit whatever new piece of ingenuity any one could. The Performers came to the contest for fame, among whom a Buffoon, well known for his drolleiy, said that he had a kind of entertainment which had never yet been brought out at any theatre. The rumoiu*, spreading, brought together the whole city ; and the places, empty shortly before, sufficed not for the multitude. But as soon as he appeared on the stage, alone, and without any apparatus, any stage-assistants, the very intenseness of expectation produced silence. Sud- denly, he dropped down his head towards his bosom, and so ■well did he imitate the voice of a pig with his own, that they concluded there was a real one under his cloak, and ordered it to be shaken out. This being done, as soon as they found that nothing was discovered, they loaded the Man with many praises, and bestowed upon him the greatest applause. A Coimtryman seeing this take place : " Egad," said he, " he shan't surpass me ;" and immediately gave out that he would do the same thing still better on the following day. A still gi'eater crowd assembled. Prejudice had already taken possession of their minds, and they took their seats, determined to deride, and not as unbiassed spectatoi*s. Both Performers come forth. First, the Buffoon gnmts away, and excites their applause, and awaken their acclamations. Next, the Countryman, pretending that he concealed a pig beneath his clothes (which, in fact, he did; but quite unsuspected, because they had found none about the other), twitched the ear of the real ^)/y, which he was concealing, and with the pain forced from it its natural cry. The people shouted with one voice that the Buffo )n had given a much more exact imitation, and ordered the Countryman to be di'iven from the stage. On this, he produced the pig itself from the folds of his cloak, and convicting them of their disgraceful mistake by a manifest proof : " Look," said he, " this shows what sort of judges you ai'e." i ible VII. TUB FABLES OF PU^EDBLS. 431 Fable VI. THE TWO BALD MEN. A RiUl Man chanced to find a comb in the pnMic road. Auothor, equally destitute of hair, came uj) : "Come," saiil 'i>". "shai\'9, whatever it is you have found." The other ■wed the l»ooty, and added withal : " The will of the CJod.s ,.,is favouivd us, but through the malii^iity of fate, we have found, as the sj\ying is, a coal in.^^tead of a treasni-e." This complaint befits him whom hope has disappointed. Fable VII. PRI^^CEPS, THE FLUTE-PLAYER. When a weak mind, beguiled by frivolous applause, has once given way to insolent self-sufficiency, such foolish vanity is easily exposed to ridicule. Princeps, the Flute-})layer, was pretty well known, being accustomed to accompany Bathyllus* with his music on the stage. It chanced that, at a representation, I don't well remember what it was, while the flying-machine* was being whirled along, he fell heavily, through inadvertence, and broke his left leg, when he would much rather have parted A^-ith two right ones.' He was picked up and can-ied to his bouse groaning aloud. Some months pass by before his cure is completed. As is the way with the spectators, for they are a merry race, the man began to be missed, by * Accompany Balhyllus) — Ver. 5. He alludes to Bathyllus, the favourite and freedman of Mecaenas, aifS who brought to perfection pantomimic dancing at Rome. • Fli/iii break two right-handed pipes." 432 THE FABLES OF PU.KDRUS. Book V, whose blasts the vigour of the daucer was wont to be kept at full stretch. A certain Nobleman was about to exhibit a show, just when Princeps was beginning to walk abroad. With a pre- sent and entreaties he prevailed upon him merely to present himself on the day of the show. When the day came a rumom' about the Flute-player ran through the theatre. Some affinned that he was dead, some that he would ap- pear before them without delay. The curtain falling,* the thunders rolled,' and the Gods conversed in the usual form. At this moment the Chorus struck up a song vmknown to him who had so recently returned ; of which the bm-then was this : " Rejoice, Rome, in security, for your prince [^Princeps] is well." All rise with one consent and applaud. The Flute-player kisses hands, a7id imagines that his friends are congi-atidating him. The Equestrian order perceive the ridicidous mistake, and with loud latighter encore the song. It is repeated. My man now throws himself sprairUng at full length upon the stage.' Ridiculing him, the Knights applaud ; while the people fancy he is only asking for a chaplet. When, however, the reality came to be known thi'oughout all the tiers, Princeps, his leg bound up with a snow-white fillet, clad in snow-white tunic, and snow- wliite shoes,* while pluming himself on the honors really paid to the Deified House,* was thi-ust out headlong by com- mon consent. * The curtain f alii nq) — Ver. 23. The "aulaeum," or stage-curtain, called also " siparium," was a piece of tapestry stretched on a frame, AThich, rising before the stage, concealed it till the actors appeared. Instead of drawing up this curtain to discover the stage and actors, according to the present practice, it was depressed when the play began, and fell beneath the level of the stage: whence "aulsRa prcnumtur" or " mittuntur," "the curtain is dropped," meant that the play had began. - The thunders rolled)— \ct. 23. This thunder was made by the noise of rolling stones in copper vessels. 3 Upon the stage) — Ver. 32. The " pulpitum" was properly an elevated place on the proscenium, or space between the scene and the orchestra. * Snow-white shoes) — Ver. 37. "We learn from Ovid and other authors that white shoes were solely worn by the female sex. 5 To the Deified house) — Ver. 3S. Taking to himself the honor that belonged to the house of Augustus, which was worshipped with D'w iue nonori Fal)k' X. THE KABLKS OF IMl.KUUL'i 433 Fadle VI it. THE E^FBLEM OF OTPORTUNITY. A T>:iltl Man. lialimciiiij on a razor's oilm-, tloi't of font, his forehead covoreil with liair,' liis hody naked -if you have eau!j;ht him, liold him fast ; when he his ouec escaped, not Jupiter himself can overtake him : he is the emblem how shortlived is Opporttinity. The ancients devised siich a jiortraiture of Time, to siqnifu that slothful delay should not hinder the execution of our purposes. Fahlk TX. THE BULL AND THE CALF. 'Vlien a Bull was stnicrizlinij with his horns in a narrow S<\ and could hardly eftect an entrance to the manger, a L'alf hesjan to point out in what way he might turn himself: " Hush."' siiid the Bull, " I knew that before you were ])orn." Ix't him who would instruct a wiser man, consider this as said to himself. Fable X. THE HUNTSMAN AND THE DOG. A Dog. who had always given satisfaction to his master |.\ his boldness against swift and savage beasts, began to A feeble under increasing years. On one occasion, being I [is forehead covered with hair)—\cT. 2. From this fiirurc of Timo portunity. Time came to be represented in tlie niiildle ai^es with : of hair on his forehead; whence our common expresj-ion "To time by the forelock," signilying tc maiie the best of an . rtuuiiy." 2 P 434 THE FABLES OF PH.EDEUS. urged to the combat with a bristling Boar, he seized him by the ear ; but, through the rottenness of his teeth, let go his prey. Vexed at this, the Huntsman upbraided the Do^, Old Barker' replied: "It is not my courage that dis- appoints you, but my strength. You commend me for what I have been ; and you blame me that I am not icliat I was. You, Philetus,* may easily perceive why I have ^\-l■itteu this, ' Old Barker) — Ver. 7. We may here enumerate the names of this nature, which we find given by Phoedrus to various auimals: "laniger,"' " wool-bcarcr," the sheep ; " aurituhis," " long-ears," the ass ; " sonip " sounding hoof," the horse; " barbatus," "long-beard," the goat: " retorridus," " brindle," the mouse ; and " latrans," " barker," the dog ^ Philetus.) — Ver. 10. Of this Philetus nothing certain is kaown, but he is suppoecd to have been « freedmaa of the emperor Claudius. \ k THE NEW FABLES, BY SOME ATTRIBUTED TO PH^DRUS. Fable I. TTTE ArE AND THE FOX. TJie Greedy Man is not willing to give even from his superabundance. As Ape asked a Fox for a part of lior tail, that lie micht leocntly cover his naked hinder parts therewith ; but the ll-natured creature replied: " Althou<:jh it grow even longer han it is, still I will sooner drag it through mud and : irambles, thaxi give you ever so small a part thereof." i' ' Attributed to Phcedrus) — Cassito and Jannelli, with several other (' ritics, are strongly of opinion that these Fables were written hy Phied- I U8. On a critical examination, however, they will be found to be jo di.pted. ■1 r 1 -i36 THE >-EW FABLES OF PH.EDRUS. Fable II. Fable II. THE AUTHOR We must not require ivhat is unreasonable. If Natiire had* formed the human race according to my notions, it wonld have been far better endowed : for she would have given us every good quality that indulgent Foi-tune has bestowed on any animal : the strengih of the Elephant, and the impetuous force of the Lion, the age of the Crow, the majestic port of the fierce Bull, the gentle tractableness of the fleet Horse ; and Man should stiU have . had the ingenuity that is peculiarly his own. Jupiter in ; heaven laughs to himself, no doubt, he who, in his mighty , plan, denied these qualities to men, lest our audacity should wrest from him the sceptre of the world. Contented, there- fore, with the gifts of unconquered Jove, let us jiass the years of our time allutted by fate, nor attempt more than mortality permits. Fable III. MERCURY AND THE TWO WOMEN. Another Fable on the same subject. Once on a time, two Women had given their guest, Mercury, a mean and sordid entertainment; one of the women had a little son in the cradle, while the profession of a Courtesan had its charms for the other. In order, there- fore that he might give a suitable return for their services, when about to depart, and just crossing the threshold, he said: " In me you behold a God ; I will give you at once whatever each may wish." Tlie Mother makes her request, and asks that she may immediately see her Son graced -with a beard; the Courtesan requests that ^^hateve^ she touches may follow, her. Mercury flies away — the women return in-dooi-s : behold. ' If natvre had) — Vcr. 1. This can haidly be styled a Fable; it is merely an Epilogue or mor;il lesson. i lai A' VlII. THi: NHW FAP.t.KS OF rit.tDKUa. 439 Fahm: Vir. THK AUTHOR. On the Oracle of Apollo. riHTliua? irTjo dost inhabit Poljihi and tlio boanteon.s r MISSUS, sjiy wliat is most nsfful to us. Wliy do tlio i." k> of tlio holy ]>!•()] ilu'toss stand I'lx'ct; the tripods shake; tlu- holy shrin«'s rx'sound ; the lauii'ls. too,' quiver, and the fvery day ijrow ]>aleF Smitten by the Divinity, the Pythia Mittci-s these words, and the warninjj of tlu' Deliau God 'in-truets the nations: "Practise virtue; ptty your vows 'to the Gods above; defend your country, your parents, your 'ehildreu, and your chaste wives with ai"ms; rjpel the foe witii the sword; assist your friends; spare the Avi-etched; tav.Hir the good; meet the treacherous faee to face; punish I'tl'mcos; chastise the impious; inflict vengeance on those who. by base adultery, delile the marriage couch ; bewai"e 'u' wicked; trust no man too far." Thus having .said, Maiden falls frenzied to the ground: frenzied, indeed, Ij\. what she s;iid, she s;ud in vain. F.VBLE VIII. ^SOP AND THE AUTHOR. On a lad Author tvho praised himself. \ Person had recited' some worthless composition to •, in which he had inordinately bragged about himself. lous, therefore, to know what the Sixge thought thereof: • l».>fs it appear to you," said he, "that I have been too I'll'' lauirh, too) — Ver. 5. The " cortina" or omciil.ir shrine w.ia inilcd with laurels ; which were said to quiver while (he oracles lieini; pronounced. This is probably the most beautiful portion se newlv-discovercd poems. Still, it cannot with propriety Ikj la Fable". - A pernon had rfriffd^ — Ver 1. Adry remarks that this is nit a Fable, but only uu ilpij^ram. 440 THE NEW FABLES OF PH.EDRUS. Fiiltle conceited ? I have no empty confidence in my owji capa city." Worried to death ^^^th the execrable volume, ^Esop replied : " I gi-eatly ajiiaove of your liestowing praise on yourself, for it will never be youi- lot to receive it from another." Fable IX, P0:MPEIUS MAGNUS AND HIS SOLDIER. How difficult it is to understand a man. A Soldier of Pompeius ^Mai^nus, a man of huge bulk, by talking mincingly and walking with an affected gait, had acquired the character of an effeminate wretch, andtliat most fully established. Lying in wait by night for the beasts of burden of his General, he drives away the mules laden with garments and gold, and a vast weight of silver. A rumour of what has been done gets abroad ; the soldier is accused, and carried off to the Prsetorium. On this, Magnus sai/s to Jiini:^ " How say you ? Have you dared to rob me, comrade r " Th^i, soldier forthwith s])its into his left hand, and scatters about the spittle with his fingers. " Even thus, General," says he^ " may my eyes drip out, if I have seen or touched i/oiir pro- pert//." Then Magnus, a man of easy disposition, orders the false accusers to be sent about their busmess/ and will not believe the man guilty of so great audacity. Not long afterwards a bai'barian, confiding in his strength of hand, challenges one of the Romans. Each man fears to accept the challenge, and the leaders of highest rank mutter amon;/ themselces. At length, this effeminate wretdl in appearance, but Mars in prowess, approached the Gene- ral, who was seated on his tribunal, and, with a lisping voice, said " May I ?"* But Magnus, getting angry, as ' Ahiyiit their buxine.'ii) — Ver. 13. The words suggested in Orellius, * Indicii falsi auctores propcUi jubet," are used here to fill up the lacuna. ^ May I?) — Ver. 29. " Licet T meaning: "Do you give me per- mission to go against the enemy 1" The story about the spittle savours of the middle ages. i F;il)!c X. THE m;\V lAliM'-S OF rii.KDKrs. 411 I a*i urll he >iiiou this, an am'il uiau aiuuiii; tlio Chi«'f- taiu'a tiieiitls, rfimtrktil : '"1 think it wonld bu licttor lor this j)or.>on to 1«' oxposoil to the hazards ot" b'ortmu', since in liini our loss \vt)ulil bo but small, than a valiant man, who, if cunijuered throuijh some mischance, mi^ht entail ujiDn you a charLje ol rashness." Ma;j;nus acquiesced, and gave tho Sol'lier permis-siou to go out to meet the cinniijtian, whoso head, t(.) the surprise of the army, ho whijiped olV sooner than you could say it, and returned victorious. Thereupon siiid Tompeius : "With i^reat pleasure I jiix-sent you with the .suldit r s crown, because you have vimlicated the honor of the Koman name ; nevertheless," said he, " may my eyes drip out" (imitatiuij; the unseenuy act wnth wliich the Soldier had jiecompaiiied his oath), " if you did not carry oil' uiy property from among the baggage." Fable X. JUNO, VENUS, AND THE HEN. On the Lustfuhiess of Women. VD\on Juno* was praising her own chastity, Venus did not lose the ojiportunity of a Jolce. and, to show that there •was no female eipial to herself in that virtue, is said to have asked this question of the Hen : " Tell me, will you, with liuw much food could you be satisfied:" The hen replied : " Whatever you give me will be enough; but still you must let me scratch a bit with m^ feet." " To keep you from scratching," said the Godck's.ry^" is a measure of wheat enough ?" "Certainly ; indeed it is too much ; but still do allow me to scratch." " In tine," said Venus, '' what do you requii'e, on condition of not scratching at all ?" Then at last the heu confessed the weak point in her nature : " Though a whole bam were ojien for me, still scratch I must." Juno is said to have laughed at the joke of Venus, for by the Hen she meant the Female Sex. ' When Juno)—\cT. 1. This story iis bolu silly and in very IjuJ taste. -442 THE NEW FABLE9 OF PH.EBRUS. Fable XL Fable XL THE FATHER OF A FAMILY AND ^ESOP. How a bad-tempered San mai/ he tamed. g A Father of a family had a passionate Son. who, as soon ' as he had got out of his father's sight, inflicted many a blow upon the servants, and .gave loose to the impetuous temper of youth. ^Esop consequently told this short story to the old man. A certain Man was yoking an old Ox along with a Calf; and when the Ox shunning to hear the yoke with a neck so unfit for it, alleged the failing strength of his years : " You have no reason to fear," said the Coujitiyman, " I don't do this that you may labour, but that you may tame him, who with his heels and horns has made many lame." Just so, unless you always keep your son by you, and by your manage- ment restrain his temper, take cai'e that the broils in your house don't inci-ease to a still greater degree. Gentleuess is the remedy for a bad temper.* Fable XIL THE PHILOSOPHER AND THE VICTOR IN THE GYMNASTIC GAMES. Hoiv Boastfulness may sometimes he cliecTced. A Philosopher chancing to find the Victor in a gymnastic contest too fond of boasting, asked him whether his ad- versary had been the stronger man. To this the other replied: "Don't mention it; my strength was far gi'eater." " Then, you simpleton," i-etorted the Philosopher, " what praise do you deserve, if you, being the stronger, have con- quered one who was not so powerful ? You might jierhaps have been tolerated if you had told us that you had conquered one who was your superior in strcngih." ' Remedy for a bad teviper) — Ver. 15. This doctrine is stated ia far too general terms. Fable XIV, THE NEW FARI,F-S 0»' ni lOUKUa. 413 Fable XIII. THE ASS AND THE LYRE. TTow Oeniits is often wasted through Mi.tfortune. An Ass espied a Lyre lying in a meailow: ho a]>i)roaclie<,l and tried the sti-iiii;:s with his hoof; thoy sountlod at his touch. " By my faith, a pretty thin;::," a^vid he ; "it hajniens unfortunately that I am not skilled in the art. If an;.-- pei-sou of i^reater skill had found it, he might have chai'med my cat's with divine notes." So Genius is often wasted through Misfortune.* Fable XIV. THE WIDOW AND THE SOLDIER. Tlie great Inconstancy and Lustfuhiess of Women. A certain Woman' had for some years lost her beloved Husl>and, and had jiiaced his body in a tomb; and as she could by no me;\ns be forced from it, and passed her life in mourning at the sepulchre, she obtained a distinguished chiu-acter for strict chastity. In the meantime, some jiersons who had plundered the temple of Jujjiter sufl'ered the [>enalty of ci-ueitixion. In order that no one might remove tlu ir remains, soldiers were appointed as guards of the dead lies, close by the monument in which the woman had t herself up. Some time after, one of the Guards, being rsty, asked, in the middle of the night, for some water, a servant-maid, who chanced j^t then to be assisting 1 mistress, who was going to rest ; for she had been watch- , by a lamp, and had prolonged her vigils to a late houi. • door being a little ope% the Soldier peeps in, and beholds ne»ius often tcastfd.) — Ver. 7. It seems to border upon the absurd -jicak ot an a.«3 losing the opportunity of cultivating his " inireniiim. " can hardly with propriety be quoted under any circumstances as a imen of a " mute inijlorious Jlilton." A ctrlain M'oman) — Ver. 1. This is the story of the Matron of SU8, told in a much more interesting manner b>- Petronivu 444 THE NEW FABLES OF PII.EDUUS. Fable XY. a Woman, emaciated indeed, but of beauteous features. His smitten heart is immediately inflamed, and he gradually biu'ns with iinchaste desires. His crafty shrewdness in- vents a thousand pretences for seeing her more frequently. AVrought upon by daily intercourse, by degi'ees she became more complaisant to the stranger, and soon enthralled liis heart by a closer tie. While the careful Guard is here passing his nights, a body is missed from one of the crosses. The Soldier in his alarm relates to the Woman what hai happened ; but tbe chaste Matron rephes : " You have no grounds for fear ;" and gives up the body of her Husband to be fastened to the cross, that he may not undergo punish- ment for his negligence. Thus did profligacy usurp the place of honour. Fable XY. THE RICH SUITOR AXD THE POOR ONE. Fortune sometimes favours Men heyond their hopes and expectations. Two Youths were courting a INIaiden at the same time ; the Rich man got the better of the birth and good looks of the Poor one. When the a[)pointed day for the nuptials had arrived, the woe-begoue Lover, because he could not endure his grief, betook himself to some gardens near at hand; a little beyond which, the s]>lendid viUa of the Rich man was about to receive the Maiden from her mothers bosom, as his house in the city seemed not to be roomy enough. The marriage procession is arranged, a great crowd flocks to the scene, and Hyraenreus gives the marriage torch. IS^ow an Ass, which used to gain a living for the Poor man, was standing at the threshold of a gate ; and it so happens the maidens lead him along, that the fatigues of the way may not hurt the tender feet of the Bride. On a sudden, by the ])ity of Yenus, the heavens are swept by winds, the crash of thunder resounds through the firmament, and brings on a rough night with heavy rain; light is withdrawal from their eyes, and at the same moment a storm of hail, spreading in all directions; beats uj)on them, frightening and FaMi.' XVI. Tin; Ni:\v KAULh>< ok i'iikduis. 4;,i scattcriiii; thoin on all suits, c(>in|H-lliiii; c:\vh to scvk iuiftty for himself in plauses of his comrades. The liride's p.irents sought their daughter through the crier, ichilr the intended Husband grieved at the los^ of his Wife. Al'tir what had taken place becivme known to the jniblic, all agreed in approving of the favour shown by the (Jods of heaven. Fable XVI. iESOP AND HIS MISTRESS. IIoic injurious it often is to tell the Truth. .^sop being in the service of an Ugly Woman, wTio wasted the whole day in painting hei"self u]i, and used fine • clothes, pearls, gold, ami silver, yet found no one who would '■ touch her with a linger: " May I aw/ a few words?" said i he, " Say on," she replied. " llien I think," said he, " that ! you •will eflect anj-thing you wish, if you lay aside your I ornaments." " Do I then seem to you so much preferable ( by myself?" said she. " Vv'hy, no; if you don't make pre- . Rents, your bed will enjoy its repose." " But your sides." .she replied, "shan't enjoy their re^iose;"' and ordeivd tho I talkative Slave to be fiogfjed. Shortly after a thief took ! away a silver bracelet. When the Woman was told that I it could not be found, full of fuiy she .summoned all hrr I flares, and threatened them with a severe fl()gging if they did • >t tell the tiixth. "Threaten others," said ^Ksop, "indeed u won't trick me, mistress; I was lately beaten with tho . whip because I told the truth." j ' Shan't fnjoy tlfir repoae) — Vcr. 9. The pl.ny i;pon the worJ I "ccasabo," gcoms redolent of the wit of the uiiddlc a^jcd, and not of , the daya of rhoiurvu. 4-tQ THE XEW FABLES OF PH.EDRUS. Fable XVII* Fable XVII. A OOCK CARRIED IN A LITTER BY CATS. An extreme feeling of Security often leads Men into Danger. A Cock had some Cats to carry him in his litter : a Fox on, seeing him borne along in this pompous manner, said: " I advise you to be on your guard against treachery, for if you were to examine the countenances of those creatures, you would pronounce that they are carr}^ing a booty, not a burden." As soon as the savage brotherhood* began to be himgry, they tore their INIaster to pieces, and went shares in , the proceeds of their guHt. Fable XYIII. THE SOW BRINGING FORTH, AND THE WOLF JVe miist first maJce trial of a Man before we entrust ourselves to him. A Sow -was lying and groanin;?, her travail coming on ; a Wolf came running to her aid, and, oflering his assistance^ said that he could perform the duties of midwife. She, how- ever, understanding the treacheiy of the wicked animal, rejected the suspicious services of the evil-doer, and said: " If you keep at a gi'eatcr distance it is enough." But had she entrusted herself to the perfidious Wolf, she wovild have had just as much pain to ciy for, and her death irUo the bargain. ' Savage brofhf^hood) — Yct. 6. " Socictas." The brotherhood of Uttcr-cariiei;^ |)eilia^s tour or six iu number. V. I ^-i Fab'lO XX. TUK NEW KAULES OF rU.EURUS. 4i7 Fable XIX. THE RUNAWAY SLAVE AND JE^^OV. There is no necessifi/ to add evil to ceil. A Slave, when runniiii; away from a IMaster of severe di»- I position, met .^'I'^op, to whom he was known as a nei^hhour : ' •• Why are you in sueh a hurry r" said AUsop, " I'll tell you ciuididly, father," said the other, " for you are worthy ' to be calkxl by that name, as our sorrows are safely en- * istetl to you. Stripes are in sujierabundance ; victiuds : every now and then I am sent to the farm as a ^ ^^lave to the nisticj thi re: if he dines at home I am kejit i stimding by him all night, or if he is invited out, I remain I' qntd daylight in the stivet. I have fairly eiu-ned my liberty; but with grey hail's I am still a slave. If I were conscious I to myself of any fault, I should bear this patiently : I j never have had a bellyful, and, indiajipy that I am, I have f to put up with a severe master besides. For these reasons, k and for others which it woidd take too long to recount, I < have det-EW FABLES OF PH.EDRUS. Fable XXI- f'' said, " Go on and be happy; celebrate without me the festive day iu the race ; at the place to which the accursed hand of the tliief has dragged me, will I lament my sad late." Fable XXI. THE HUNGRY BEAR. Iliinfjer sharpens the wits. If at any time sustenance is wanting to the Bear in the woods, he runs to the rocky shore, and, gi-asping a rock, gi'adually lets down his shaggy thighs into the water; and as soon as the Crabs have stuck to the long haii', betaking himself to shore, the crafty fellow shakes ofl' his sea-spoil, and enjoys the food that he has collected in every quarter. Thus even in Fools does hunger sharpen the wits. Fable XXII. THE TRAVELLER AND THE RATEN. Men are very frequently imposed tipon by words. A ]\Ian while going through the fields along his solitary path, heard the word "Hail!" wliereat he stopped for a moment, but seeing no one, went on his way. Again the same soimd saluted him from a hidden spot ; encouraged by the hosi^itable voice, he stopped short, that wlioever it was might receive the like civility. When, looking all about, he had remained long in perplexity, and had lost the time in which he might have walked some miles, a Raven showed himself, and hovering above him, continually repeated "Hail!" Then, perceiving that he had been deluded : " Perdition seize you," said he, " most mischievous bii'd, to have thus delayed me when I was in such a hurry." ' 1/ at any time) — Ver. 1. This is not a Fable; it is merely ao anecdote in natural historj', and one not very unlikely to have been true. b Fuble XXV. TUE NKw fauljls of rii.fiDBus. 449 Fable XXTII. THE SnEPHERD AND TIIR STIK-flOAT. Nothing is secret tchich shall not he made manij't\st } A Shoplierd had brokon' the horn of a She-Goat with h'm start', and boLran to entreat lier not to betray liini to liis i^Iaster. ''Although iinju>tly injured," said slir, "still, I shall bo silent ; but the tiling itself will proclaim your oticnoe." Fable XXIV. THE SERPEXT AXD THE LIZARD. IVTien the Lion's skin fails, the JFhs's must be emphj/ed ; that is to say, when strength fails, tee must employ craftiness. A Serpent chanced to catch a Lizard by the tail ; but when jhe tried to devour it with open throat, it snatched up a ittle twig that lay close at hand, and, holding it tnmsvei'sely *ith pertinacious bite, checked the gi-eedy jaws, agape to levour it. by this cleverly contrived impediment. So the Serpent diopped the prey from her mouth unenjoyed Fable XXV. THE CROW AND THE SHEEP. I£any are in the habit of injiirinr/ thfiveak and cringing to the poircrjul. An pestilent Crow had taken her seat upon a Sheep ; which iter carrying her a long time on her back and much against ' Be made manifest) — Ver. 1. This moral is couched in the same 'ords as St. Luke, viii. 17: " For nothing is secret which shall not « made manifest." ' A Sh'plteid had brolrn)—\eT. 1. As Adry remarks, this F»blo Oore closely resembles the brevity and elegance of I'hoednif. 2 450 THE NEW FABLES OF PH^DRUS. Fable XXVI- her inclination, remarked : " If you had done thus to a Dog with his sharp teeth, you would have suffered for it. To this the rascally Crow replied : " I despise the defenceless, and I yield to the powerful ; T know whom to vex, and whom to flatter craftily j by these means I put off my old age for yearg." Fable XXYI. THE SERVANT AND THE MASTER. There is no curse more severe than a had conscience. & A Servant having been guilty^ of a secret offence in debauching the wife of his master, on the latter coming to know of it, he said, in the presence of those standing by : "Are you quite pleased with yourself? For, when you ought not, you do please yoiu'self ; but not with impunity, for when you ought to be pleased, you cannot be." h Fable XXVIL THE HARE AND THE HERDS^^IAN. Many are kind in words, faithless at heart. A Hare was flying from the Huntsman with speedy foo^ and being seen by a Herdsman, as she was creeping into a thicket : " By the Gods of heaven, I beg of you," said she, " and by all your hopes, do not betray me, Herd;sman ; I have never done any injury to this field.* " Don't be afraid," ' Having been guilty) — Ver. 5. Chambn-, one of the French Editors, omits this, as unworthy of Phanlrus. and Adry pronounces it unintel- H ligible. The meaning of this, which is Jannelli's version, seems to be: " When you ought not to please yourself, you do please yourself, ia committing the crime; but the consequence is that, afterwards, whea you ought to feel pleased, in that you have gratified your desires, you cannot, in consequence of your guilty conscience." It is so muti- lated, however, that Cassitti, Jannelli, and other Editors give entirelj li dififerent versions. ^ Injury to this field) — Ver. 4. The Hare is more an enemy to the flowers in gardens than to the fields. It was probably for tliis reason that the Romans sacriticed this animal to the Goddess Flora, FaMe XXTX. Tiir nfw fadles of pn^EPRirs. 4.11 the CuuntiTiuan ro[)lio(l, " ivniaiii coiuvakd without iippro- housion." And luiw tho Huiitsinau coiuiiiL; up, nuiuired : •* Tniy, llordsman. has a llaro ooiiie this way r" " Sho did coiiio, but went oil" that way to tho loft ;" Iw ansurmi, winkinsx J"»d noihlint; to tlio rii^ht. Tho lluntsnuin in hia ha.--to did not uudoi-stand liiui, and huriiod out ut" si'dit. Then said the llordsmau : "Aro you uot ghid that I conoo alod you r" " 1 don't dony," sjiid sho, " that to your ton;,'uo I owe most sinoore thanks, ami 1 ivturn thoni, but I wish you may bo do])rivoil of your portidious oyos," Fable XXVIII. THE YOUNG MAN AND THE COURTESAN. Maiu/ things are pleasing which still are not to our advantage. Wliile a portidious Courtesan was fa^v^ling upon a Youth, ind ho, though \vronged bg her many a time and oft, still [ihowed himself indulgent to the Woman, the faithless \Crecause you are constant, but because you administer to ny pleasures." Fable XXIX , THE BEAVEB^ Many veould escape, if for the sake of safety they tcould disregard their comforts. The Beaver (to which the talkative Greeks have given tho une of Castor, thus bestowing upon an animal the name f a God' — thoy who boast of the abundance of their epi- * Name of a God^ — Yer. 3. This pun upon the f^sosemblance of lOlBtor," the name of the demigod, to " Castor," " a beaver," Bcema to ! a puerile pun; and the remark upon the limited " copia vcrborum" U G 2 452 THE XEW FABLES OF PHiEDRUS. Fable XXX. thets) when can no longerescape the dogs, is said to bite off his testicles, because he is aware that it is for them he is sought ; a thing wKich I would not deny being done through an instinct granted by the Gods ; foi" as soon as the Huntsman has found the drug, he ceases his pursuit, and calls off the dogs. If men could manage, so as to be ready to part with what they own, in order to live in safety for the future, there would be no one to devise stratagems to the detriment of the naked body. Fable XXX. THE BUTTERFLY AND THE WASP. Not past hut present Fortune must be regarded. A Butterfly^ seeing a "Wasp flying by : " Oh, sad is our lot," said she, '* derived from the depths of hell, from the recesses of which we have received our existence. I, eloquent in peace, brave in battle, most skilled in every art, whatever I once was, behold, light and rotten, and mere ashes do I fly.' You, who were a Mule^ with jjanniers, h\u't whomsoever yon of the Greeks, seems more likely to proceed from the Archbishop of Sipontum than from Phsedrus, who was evidently proud of his Grecian origin. ' A Butterfly) — Ver. 1. This Fable is in a sadly mutilated state, and critics are at a loss to say, with any certainty, what is meant by it. Whether the supposed word in 1. 2, "barathris," (if really the correct reading), means the depths of hell, or the inner folds of the leaves in which the Butterfly is enveloped in the chrysalis state, or whether it, means something else, will probably always remain a matter of doubt. However, the Fable seems to allude to the prevalent idea, that the soul, when disengaged from the body, took the form of a buttei-fly. Indeed the Greeks called botii the soul and a butterfly by the name of ^vxii. There are six or seven diOoreut versions of the first five lines. * A>fhes do J fly) — Ver. 6. It is just possible that this may allude to the soul being disengaged from the corruption of the body. ' ]Yko were a Mule) —Ver. 7. She would seem here to allude to the doctrine of the transmigration of souls. It may possibly have been a notion, tliat as the human soul took the form of a Butterfly, the souls uf animals appeared in the shapes of Wasps and Fliea. I Fablo XXXII. THF M'w FAni.F.s OF ni.i.iii.us. 4'>3 choose, by fixing your stiui^ in liiin. Tlio Wasp, tuo, nttciiJil these words, will suitoil to her disposition: '* Consider not what we were, but what we now are." Fable XXXI. THE GROUND-SWALLOW AND THE FOX. Conjidence is not to he placed in the xcickcd. A Bird which the Rustles call a Ground-Swallow {ter- ' raneola), because it makes its nest in the ijround, chanced to meet a wicked Fox, on seeing whom she soared aloft on her wings. " Save you," said the otlier ; " why, pray, do you ; fly from me, as though I had not abundance of food in the meadows, — crickets, beetles, and plenty of locusts. You have nothing to feiir, I beg to assure you; I love you ' rly for your quiet ways, and your harmless life. The /replied: "You speak very faii-Iy, indeed; however, I not near you. but up in the air ; I shall therefore pro- 1, and that Ls the way in which I trust my life to you." Fable XXXII. THE EPILOGUE.* Of those who read this book. ^^'hatever my Muse has here written in sportive mood, I malice and worth equally join in praising; but the i.uu-r with candour, while the other is secretly annoyed. ' Thf Eiiilogue) — This appears ia reality to be only the I'ragment of an Epilogue. ^SOPTAN FABLES/ THE AUTHOKS OF WHICH AKE NOT KNOWl^ Fable I. THE SICK KITE. A Kite having been sick for many months, and seeing now thei-e was no longer any hope of his recovery, asked his Mother to go round the sacred places, and make the most earnest vows for his i-ecoveiy. " I will do so, my Son," said she, "but I am greatly afraid I shall obtain no helpj but you, who h»ave polluted eveiy temple and eveiy altar with your ravages, sparing no sacrificial food, what is it you would now have me ask r" Fable II. THE HARES TIRED OF LIFR He who cannot endure his own misfortune, let him look at others, and learn patience. On one occasion, the Hares being scared in the woods by a great noise, cried out, that, on account of their continued alarms, they would end their lives. So they repaired to a certain pond, into which, in their despondency, they were ^ jEsopian Fables)— These iEsopian Fables appear much more worthy of the genius of Phwdrus than the preceding ones, which have been attributed to him by the lUlian Eiiitoi-s. The name of the author or authors of tlicse is unknown; but from the internal evidence, it u not iiiiprobuble that some may have beea composed by Phtedrua Fablo IV. -EsopiAN F.vntra. 455 foiuij to throw thonisi'lvos. Alarnu-tl ut tlu-ir ajiproach, some ropj tloil distractoiUy into the j^reen sinlijo. " Oh !" says oiu' of the hart's, "thoi*e are others too whom f»'ar of mis- fort uue toriueuta. Eudure oxisteucc as others do." Fable ITT. JUPITER AND THE FOX. No fortune oonceals baseness of nature. Jupiter haviug chan'::ed a Fox into a human shape, while she was sitting as a Mistress on a royal throne, she saw a beetle ereeping out of a corner, and sprang nimbly towards the well-knowni pivy. The Gods of heaven smiled ; the Great Father was ashamed, and expelled the Concubine, repudiated and di.sLrraced, addressing her in these words : " Live on in the manner that yo\i deserve, you, who camiot make a worthy use of my kindness." Fable IV. THE LION AND THE MOUSE This Fable teaches that no one shotild hurt th »se of more > humble condition. While a Lion was asleep in a wood, where some Field- Mice were sjiorting about, one of them by chance leaped upon the Lion as he lay. The Lion awoke and seized the ^wretched creature with a sudden spring. The captive im- I'plored pardon and suppliantly confe«^<) his crime, a sin of ( imprudence. The Monarch, not deen ''n^' it a glorious thing > to exact vengeance for this, pardoned hiin anl let him go. J A few days after, the Lion, while roan ing l>y night, fell into ^,a trap. \Vhen he perceived that he was caiight in the snare, i he began to roar with his loudest voice. At this tremtudoua 4 noise the ^Mouse instantly ran to his assistance, att^ ex- ! claimed : " You hiive no need to fear ; I will make an adequate return for your great kindness." Immediately he began to survey all the knots and the fastenings of the knots ; and 456 .asopiAK FABLES. Fable Y. gnawing the strings after he had examined them, loosened the snare. Thus did the Mouse restore the captui-ed Lion to the woods. Fable V. THE MAN AND THE TREES. Those perish, who give assistance to their foes. A certain Man, having made an axe, besought the Trees to afford him a handle from their wood that would prove firm : they all desired that a piece of Olive-tree should be given. He accepted the offer, and, fitting on the handle, set to work with the axe to hew dcsvn the huge tnmks. While he was selecting such as he thought fit, the Oak is I'eported thus to have said to the Ash: "We richly deserve to be cut down." Fable VI. THE MOUSE AND THE FROG. A Mouse, in order that he might pass over a river with greater ease, sought the aid of a Frog. She tied the fore leg of the Mouse to her hinder thigh. Hardly had they swum to the middle of the river, when the Frog dived suddenly, trying to reach the bottom, that she might perfidiously deprive the Mouse of life. While he struggled with all his might not to sink, a Kite that was flying near at hand, beheld the prey, and seizing the floundering Mouse in his talons, at the same time bore ofi" the Fi'og that was fastened to him. Thus do men often perish while meditating the destruction othera. Fable VII. THE TWO COCKS AND THE HAWK. A Cock who had often fought with another Cock, and been beaten, requested a Hawk to act as umpire in the contest. FhMc IX. ^.SOPIAN KAIII.KS. 4dT Tlio lattor coinvived lin|us, if Iioth should como, of divuvir- mt; him who sliouKl tii-st pivsi-nt himsi-If. Shortly ufU'i; when he siiw that thry had coino to i)K'Hd their cause, ho seizoil the ouo who tii-st broui;ht his caso into court. Tlio victim chimorously exchiimcd : " Ti.s not I that sliouM bo punishivl. but the one who took to lli<,'lit ;" the iiird rrplicd: "Do not supposi' that you can this day escape my tahms ; it is just tlmt you shouUi now yourself endure the treacheries you were 2>lji'^i>iug for another."' He who often coujitates upon the death of others, little knows what s;id Fate he may be preparing for hinisell'. Fable VIIL THE SNAIL AND THE APR A Snail, smitten with admiration of a ]Mirror which she had tound. be;y\n to climb its shining face, and lick it, fancy- ing she could confer no greater favour upon it, than to stain its brightness with her slime. An Ape, when he saw the ^liiTor thus defiled, remarked : " He who allows himself to be trodden by such bcin(js, deserves to suffer such a disgrace." This Fable is written for those Women who unite them- selves to itmoiunt and fooUsh Men. Fable IX. THE CITY MOUSE AND COUNTRY MOUSK A City Mouse being once entertained at the table of a Countrj' one, dined on hunil)le acorns in a hole. After- I wards he prevailed \x\ion the Countryman by his entreaties to enter the city and a cellar that abounded with the choicest things. Here, while they were enjoying remnants of various kinds, the door is thrown open, and in comes the Butler; the Mice, terrified at the noise, fly in different direc- ' Planning for another) — Ver. 10. The nature of the reason as-sipned by the Hawk is not very clear. Perhaps the writer did not care that he should give even so much as a spcoioud reaaou. f 458 .4S0P1AN FABLES. Fable X. tions, and the City one easily hides himself in his well-known holes; while the unfortunate Rustic, all trepidation in that strange house, and ch'eading death, runs to-and-fro along the walls. When theButler had taken what he wanted, and had shut the door, the City Mouse bade the Country one again to take courage. The latter, still in a state of perturbation, replied : " I hardly can take any food for fear. Do you think he will come?" — "Why are you in such a fright?" said the City one ; " come, let us enj oy dainties which you may seek in vain in the country." The Countryman replied : "You, who don't know what it is to fear, will enjoy all d these things ; but, free from care and at liberty, may acorns be my food !" > 'Tis l)etter to live secure in poverty, than to be consumed by the cares attendant upon riches. i Table X. J THE ASS FAWNING UPON HIS MASTER. ] An Ass, seeing the Dog fawn upon his master, and how he was crammed at his table each day, and had bits thrown to him in abundance by the Servants, thus remarked : " If tlie Master and the Servants are so very fond of a most filthy Dog, what must it be with me, if I should pay him similar attentions, who am much better than this Dog, and useful and praiseworthy in many respects ; who am supported by the pure streams of undefiled water, and never in the habit of feeding upon nasty food ? Siu'ely I am more Avorthy than a whelp to enjoy a happy life, and to obtain the highest honor." While the Ass is thus soliloquising, he sees his Master enter the stable ; so running up to him in haste and biiiying aloud, he leaps upon him, claps both feet on his shoulders, begins to lick his face; and tearing his clothes with his dii'ty hoofs, he fatigues his Master with his heavy weight, as he stupidly fawns uiion him. At their INIaster's outcry the Servants nm to the spot, and seizing everywhere such sticks and stones as come in their way, they pimish the braying least, aiid knocking him otf his Master's body, soon send him back, half-dead to the manger, with sore Umbs and battered rump. Fable XIL jsopian F.vni.ra. 459 ^'/i/»- FhMo toadies that a fool is not to tlinist lilinsi'lf ir,>ou tlioso wlio do not w;uit him, or ull'oct to ikji'Iuiiu tho |iart of ouo superior to him. Fable XT. THE CRANE. TllK CUOW, AND Till-] COUNTRYMAN, A Crane and a Crow had made a leaijne on oath, that the Crane shouM protect the Crow against the Birds, and tliat the Cix)w should foretell the fiitui-e, so that the Crane might be on her guard. Alter this, on their frequently flying into the tields of a certain Countryman, and tearing up by the roots what had been sown, the owner of the tield saw it. and being vexed, cried out : '• Give me a stone, Boy, that I f may hit the Crane." When the Cn)W heard this, at once I' she wai-ued the Crane, who took all due precaution. On ' another day, too, the Crow hearing liim ask for a stone, I again warned the Crane carefully to a\oid the danger. The Countryman, suspecting that the divining Bird heard his I commands, said to the Boy : " If I say, give me a cake, do I you secretly hand me a stone." The Crane came at/a in ; he |» bade the Boy give him a cake, but the Boy gave him a stone, li with which he bit the Crane, and broke her legs. The f. Crane, on being wounded, said : " Prophetic Crow, where i now are your auspices ? Why did you not hasten to warn I your companion, as you swore you would, that no such evil I might befall me r" The Crow made answer : " It is not my art that desei-ves to be blamed ; but the purposes of ; double-tongued people are so deceiving, who say one thing ' and do another." ^ Those who impose upon the inexperienced by deceitful jtromises, fail not to cajole them by-and-bye with pretended , reasons. Fable XIL THE BIRDS AND THE SWALLOW. The Birds having assembled in one spot, saw a Man sowing fL^x in a field. When the Swallow found that they thought 4^0 JESOPIAN FABLES. Fable XTII, nothing at all of this, she is reported to have called them together, and thus addressed them : "Danger a"v\'aits iis all from this, if the seed should come to maturity." The Bii-ds laughed at her. When the crop, however, sprang up, the Swallow again remai-ked : " Our destruction is impending ; come, let us root up the noxious blades, lest, if they shortly grow up, nets may be made thereof and we may be taken by the contrivances of man." The Birds persist in laughing at the words of the Swallow, and tbolishly despise this most prudent advice. But she, in her can don, at once betook herself to Man, that she might suspend her nest in safety under his rafters. The Birds, however, who had disregarded her wholesome advice, being caught in nets made of the flax, came to an untimely end. Fable XIII. THE PARTRIDGE AND THE FOX. Once on a time a Partridge was sitting in a lofty tree. A Fox came up, and began thus to speak : " O Partridge, how beautiful is j'our aspect ! Your beak transcends the coral ; your thighs the brightness of purple. And then, if you were to sleep, how much more beauteous you would be. As soon as the silly Bird had closed her eyes, that instant the Fox seized the credulous thing. Suppliantly she uttered these words, mingled with loud cries : " Fox, I beseech you, by the graceful dexterity of your exquisite skill, utter my name as before, and then you shall devour me." The Fox, willing to speak, opened his mouth, and so the Partridge escaped destruction. Then said the deluded Fox : " What need was there for me to speak ?" The Partridge retorted : " And what necessity was there for me to sleep, when my hour for .sleep had not come?" This is for those who speak when there is no occasion, and who slee]J when it is requisite to be on the watch. l.iblo XV. jESOriAN FABLE8. -iCA Farle XTV. THE ASS, THE OX, AND THE BTEDS. An Ass and an Ox, fastoneil to tlio s;imo yoko, were drawing q wairiron. Wliilo the Ox Ava.s |>ullinLC with all his nii>,dit ho ke his horn. The Ass swears that he experiences no help iitever from his wejik companion. Exerting hinistlt" \t>. t!ie labour, the Ox breaks his other horn, and at len^^h falls ■ 1 :id upon the E^ound. Presently, the Herdsman loads the \ s with the flesh of the Ox, and he breaks down amid a i:M>us;ind blows, and stretched in the middle \of the road, expires. The Birds flying to the prey, exclaim : "If you ' 1 shown yourself com passionate to the Ox when he entreated 1. you woulil not have been food for us through youx uutimely death." Fable XV. THE LION AND THE SHEPHERD. A Lion,* while wandering in a wood, trod on a thorn, and Boon after came up, wagging his tail, to a Shepherd : " Don't be alarmed," said he, " I sui)pliantly entreat your aid ; I am not in search for prey." Lifting up the icouiuJed foot, the Man places it in his lap, and, taking out the thorn, relieves the patient's severe pain : whercuppn the Lion returns to the woods. Some time after, the Shepherd (being accused on a false charge) is condemned, and^is ordered to be exjiosed to ravening Beasts at the ensuing games. While the Beasts, on being let out,* are roaming to-and-fro, the Lion recognizes the Man who etfected the cure, and again raising his foot, places it in the Shepherd's lap. The King, as soon as ho awai*e of this, immediately restored the Lion to the woods, and the Shepherd to his friends. ' A Lion)—\cT. 1. Thia story is also told by Seneca — De Bcneficiii^ B. II. c. 19, and l.y .Aulus Gollius, H. III. c. 14. ' 7Vtr Beasts, on bfinr/ Ut out)—YcT. 10. The beasts were Rent forth froni "caveoe, " or "ca^jea," iuio the area of the Circus or Amphitheatre. 462 iEsopiAN FABLES. Fable XVI. Fable XYI. THE GNAT AND THE BULL. A Gnat having challenged a BuU to a trial of strength, all the People came to see the combat. Then said the Gnat : " 'Tis enough that you have come to meet me in combat ; for though little in my own idea, I am great in your judg- ment," and so saying, he took himself off on light wing through the air, and duped the multitude, and eluded the threats of the Bull. Now if the Bull had kept in mind his strength of neck, and had contemned an ignoble foe, the vapom-ing of the trifler would have been all in vain. He loses character who puts himself on a level with the undeserving. Fablk XYIL THE HOESE AND THE ASS. A Steed, swelling tcith pride beneath his trappings, met an Ass, and because the latter, wearied with his load, made room very slowly: " HanUy," said the Horse, "can I resti-ain myself from kicking you severely." The Ass held his peace, only appealing with his groans to the Gods. The Horse in a short space of time, broken-winded with running, is sent to the farm. There the Ass espying him laden with dtmg, thus jeered him: "Where are vour foi-mer trappings, vain coaster, who nave now lailen mto the misery <\hicn you treated with such contempt ?" Let not the fortunate man, unmindful of the uncertainty of fortune, despise the lowly one, seeing that he knows not what he may come to himself Fable XIX. iESOPIAN FAIW.KS. *»• Fable XYTTT. THE BIRDS, THE BEASTS, AND Tin: BAT. The Birds wore at war witli tlio Beasts, and tho ctniquoror» weiv dfl'outod ill their turn ; but tlio Bat, fearini^ tlio doubtful issue of the stri/'r. always betook himself to thosa whom he sjiw victorious. When they had returned to their former state of peace, the fraud was apparent to both sides; convicted therefore of a crime so disirniceful, and flying from the light, he thencefoi-th bid himself in deep darkness, always flying alone by night. Whoever otiei-s himself for sale to both sides, will live a life of clisgrace, hateful to them both. Fable XIX. THE NIGHTINGAJ.E, THE HAWK, AND THE FOWLER While a Hawk was sitting in a Nightingale's nest, on the watch for a Hare, he found there some young ones. Tlie Mother, alarmed at the danger of her otlspring, flew up, and suppliantly entreated him to si>are her young ones. " I will do what you wish," be replied, '"if you will sing me a tuneful song with a clear voice." On this, much as her heart failed her, still, through fear, she cyl)eyed, and being coni- |)elled, full of grief she saug. The^awk, who had seized , the prey, then said : " You have not sung yoiu* best ;" and, I seizing one of the young ones with bis claws, began to devour I it A Fowler approacbe3_ from another direction, and stealthily extending his reed,^ touches the perfidious creature • with bird-lime, and drags him to the ground. Whoever lays crafty stratagems for others, ought to be- ware that he bimself be not entrapped by cunning. ' I^Tinnding hiii r^ed) — Ver. 13. From this it would appear, thnt ^ fowlers stood behind trees, and used reeds tipped with birdlime, for I the purpoise of takiug birds. '*64 .ffisopiAN FABLES. Fable "yy. Fable XX. THE WOLF, THE FOX, AND THE SHEPHERD. A Wolf, in the course of time, had collected a store in his den, that he miirht have food, -which he might enjoy at his ease for many months. A Fox, on learning this, went to the Wolf's den, and said with tremulous voice : " Is all , right, brother? For not ha^ong seen you on the look-out % for prey in your woods, life has been saddened every day." I The Wolf, when he perceived the envy of his rival, replied: \ "You have not come hither from any anxiety on my account, j but that you may get a share. I know what is your deceit- ful aim." The Fox enraged, comes to a Shepherd, and says : " Shepherd, will you retum me thanks, if to-day I deliver up to you the enemy of your flock, so that you need have no more anxiety r" The Shepherd replied: " I will serve you, and will with pleasiu'e give you an}i;hing you like." She points out the Wolf's den to the Shepherd, who shuts him in, despatches him immediately with a spear, and gladly gratifies his rival with the property of another. When, however, the Fox had fallen into the Hunter's hands, being caught and mangled by the Dogs, she said : " Hardly have I done an injuiy to another, ere I am now punished myself.'" Whoever ventures to injure another, ought to beware lest a greater evil befall himself Fable XXI. THE SHEEP AND THE WOLVES. \ When the Sheep and the Wolves* engaged in battle, the former, safe under the protection of the dogs, were victo- rious. The Wolves sent ambassadors, and demanded a peace, ' The Sheep and the Wolve.") — Ver. 1. Demosthenes is said to have related this Fal)le to the Athenians, when dissuading them from sur- 'p.ndering the Orators to Alexander. I Fable XX 1 11. jfsoviak fvulka 4(5/j nitifu'd oil oath, on those terms ; that the Rh(>ep slumld j^'ivo U|) the Pol;^, ami reeeivo aa hostages the whelps ol' tho Wolves. Tlie Sheep, hopin!:j that lajstini; eouconl would lur thus seemvd. did as the Wolves demanded. Shortlv after, when the whelps bei^jin to howl, the Wolves, allei^iui; aa a pivtext, that their youns; oneswei-e beint:j murdere; pictures here; real valour is shown by deeds." I T/iis Fable teaches that liars use coloiu'ing in vain, when ' a sure test is produced. I • Fable XXVI. • THE STORK, THE GOOSE, 4XD THE HAWK. I A Stork, having come to a well-known pool, found a Goose diving frequently beneath the water, and enquired why she J did so. The other replied : '^This is our custom, and we rind { our food in the mud; and then, besides, we thus rind safety, ii and escajHj the attack of the Hawk when he camcs against I ^ Some garnet) — Ver. 9. " Spectaculum," or "vonatio." These • were exhibited by the wialihy Uoiuans in tlie auiphitlicatrc or circus, • nnJ on gome occx«ion.s many hundred beasts W":re slain in one d.ay. 'I' •ourse. as here mentioned, their assailants wculd tiouiclimea meet . an untimely end. 2 II 2 4o8 .SSOPIAN FABLES. Fable XXVII. us." "1 am much stronger than the Hawk," said the Stork; " if you choose to make an alliance with me, you will be able victoriously to deride him." The Goose believing her. and immediately accepting her aid, goes with her into the fields : forthwith comes the Hawk, and seizes the Goose in his remorseless claws and devours her, while the Stork flies ofK The Goose called out after her : " He who trusts him- seiT to so weak a protector, deserves to come to a still woi-se end." Fable XXYII. THE SHEEP AND THE CROW. A Crow, sitting at her ease upon a Sheep's back, pecked her with her beak. After she had done this for a long time, the Sheep, so patient under injury, remarked : "If you had offered this affront to the Dog, you coidd not have en- dured his barking." But the Crow tJnis ansirered the Sheep: " I never sit on the neck of one so strong, as I know whom I may provoke; my years having taught me cunning, I am civil to the robust, but insolent to the defenceless. Of such a natiire have the Gods thought fit to create me." T//i,s Fable was written for those base persons who oppress the innocent, and fear to annoy the bold. Fable XXYIII. THE ANT AKD THE GRASSHOPPER. In winter time, an Ant was dragging forth from hex her hole, and drpng, the grains which, in her foresight, she had collected during the summer. A Grasshopper, being hungry, begged her to give him something : the Ant replied; "What were you doing in summer?" The other said: " I had not leisure to think of the future : I was wandering through hedges and meadows, singing away." The Ant huighing, and carrying back the grains, siud : " Very well, you who were singing away in the summer, ance in the winter." Let the sluggard always labour at the proper time, lest when he has nothing, he beg in vain. Fable XXXI. ,£S0P1AN FAU1.E3. 4G'J Faiu.k XXIX. TllK llOKSH AND THE ASS. An Ass asked a Hoi-so for a little ijarle}-. "With all mv heart," Kiid he, '' it" I had more than I wantt'd, I would give you plenty, in aceordanee with my dii,'iiitiod j)osition ; but byo-aml-bye, as .soon as 1 shall have eome to my manner in the oveiiinj;, I will give yon a sackful of wheat." The Ass replied: "If you now deny me ou a trifling occasion, what am I to suppose you will do on one of greater import- ance "r" They who, while making great promises, refuse small favours, show that they are very tenacious of giving. Fable XXX. THE OLD LION AND THE FOX. Worn with years, a Lion pretended illness. IMany Beasts came for the purpose of visiting the sick King, whom at once he devoured. But a war}' Fox stood at a distance before the den, s;iluting the King. On the Lion asking her why she did not come in : " Because," said she, " I see many foot-marks of those who have gone in, but none of those who came out." The danger's of othere are generally of advantage to the wary. Fable XXXI. THE CAMEL AND THE FLEA. X Flea, chancing to sit on the back of a Camel wlio wa.s ng along weighed down with heavy biu'dens, was quite iL^hted with himself, as he appeared to be so much higlier. ter they had made a long journey, tliey came together in w.c evening to the stable. The Flea immetliately exclaimed, skipping lightly to the ground : " See, I have got dovni directly, that I may not weary you any longer, so galled a.s you are." The Camel replinl : "I thank you; but neither ^70 ^sopi.^N FABLES. Fable XXXlI. "when you were on me did I find myself oppressed by your weight, nor do I feel myself at all lightened now you have dismounted." He who, while he is of no standing, boasts to be of a lofty one, falls under contempt when he comes to be known. Fable XXXII. THE KID AND THE WOLF. A She-Goat, that she might keep her young one in safety, on going forth to feed, warned her heedless Kid not to open the door, because she knew that many wild beasts were prowling about the cattle stalls. When she was gone, there came a Wolf, imitating the voice of the dam, and ordered the door to be opened for him. When the Kid heard liim, looking tlirough a chink, he said to the Wolf : " I hear a soimd like my Mother's voice, but you are a deceiver, and an enemy to me ; tmder my Mother's voice you are seeking to di-ink my blood, and stuff yoiu'self with my flesh. Farewell." 'Tis gi-eatly to the credit of children to be obedient to their parents. Fable XXXIII. THE POOR INIAN AND THE SERPENT. In the house of a certain Poor Man, a Sciijent was always in the habit of coming to his table, and being fed thex'e plen- tifully upon the crumbs. Shortly after, the ]\[an becoming rich, he began to be angry with the Serpent, ami woimded him ^vith an axe. After the lapse of some time he returned to his former poverty. When he saw that like the vaiying lot of the Serpent, his own fortunes also changed, he coax- mgly begged him to pardon the offence. Then said the Sci*])ent to him : " You will repent of your wickedness until my woimd is healed ; don't suppose, however, thai I take you henceforth with implicit confidence to be my friend. Still, I could wish to be reconciled with you, if only I could never recaU to mind the perfidious axe." Fal'k' XXXl\'. iESOPIAN FABLES. 171 He deserves to be suspected, who has once done an injtirv; and an intimary with liim is always to be renewed witli caution. Fable XXXIV. THE EAGLE AND THE KITE. An Eagle was sitting on a bnmch ^^^th a Kite, in sorrowful mood. " Why." saiJ the Kite, '• do I see you with such a melaucholy air r" " I ain looking out," said she, " for a mate suited to myself, and cannot tind one." " Tidce me," said the Xiff, " who am so much sti'onger than you." " Well, are you able to get a living by what you can carry away?" "JNfany's the time that I have seized and carried off an ostrich in my talons," Induced by his words, the Eigle took him as her mate. A short time having passed id'ter the nujitials, the Eagle said : " Go and carry off for me the booty you ]iro- mised mc." Soaring aloft, the Kite brings back a lield-mouse, most filthy, and stinking from long-contracted mouldiness. ** Is this," Siiid the Eagle, " the j)crformance of your jiro- mise r" The Kite replied to her : " That I might contract a marriage with royalty, there is nothing I would not have pledged myself to do, although I knew that I was unable." Those who seek anxiously for inutners of higher rank, paintidly lament a deception that has united them to the worthlc^. A' m 'I THE FABLES OF Fn.EDRUS, TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISn VERSK Bt CIIRISTOrUER SMART, A.M, rcLLow or fembbokf. nAi.i^ cambridoh. BOOK :. PROLOGUR ^^'HAT from the founder Esop fell, In neat iamiliar vei-se T tell : Twofold's the ccnius of the pafrc. To make you smile and make you sago. But if the critics we displease, By wTaugling hnites and talkin<» trees, Let them remember, ere they blame, We're working neither sin uor shame; 'Tis but a play to form the youth By fiction, in the cause of tinith. Fable I. the wolf a^jd the lamb. By thirst incited; to the brook The Wulf and Lamb themselves betook. The Wolf higli up the cuiTent drank, The Lamb far lower down the bank. Then, bent his rav'nous maw to cram, The Wolf took umbrage at the Lamb, '• How dare you trouble all tlie flood, And mingle my good drink with mud?" '• Sir," says the Lambkin, sore afraid, " How should I act, as you upbraid ? 474 THE FABLES OF PH.EDRUS. Book L The thing you mention cannot be, The stream descends from you to me." Abash'd by facts, says he, " I know 'Tis now exact six months ago You strove my honest fame to blot" — " Six months ago, sir, I was not." " Then 'twas th' old ram thy sire," he cried, And so he tore him, till he died. To those this fable I address Who are determined to oppress, And ti-ump up any false pretence, But they will injure innocence. II. THE FROGS DESIRING A KINO. With equal laws when Athens thi-ove, I'lie petulance of freedom drove Their state to license, which o'erthrew Those just restraints of old they knew. Hence, as a factious discontent Through every rank and order went, Pisistratus the tyrant form'd A party, and the fort he stoi-m'd : Which yoke, while all bemoau'd in gi'icti (Not that he was a cruel cliief But they unused to be coutroll'd) Then Esop thus his fable told : The Frogs, a freeborn people made, I From out tlieir marsh with clamor pray'u J That Jove a monarch would assign ^ With power their manners to re tine. f he sovereign smiled, and on their bog Sent his petitioners a log. Which, as it dash'd upon the place, At fii*st alurm'd tlie tim'rous race. ^ But ere it long had lain to cool, * One slily ]ieep'd out of the pool, And finding it a king in jest. He boldly summou'd all the rest- Now, void of fear, the tribe advanced. And on the timber leap'd and danced. Fabli'III. TIIK FAlil.KS OK riLKDUUS. 47i Ami ha\ iiii; lot tlioir fury looso, In ixross ullVouts ami rank aliusc, Of Jove tlu'V sought anoilicr kin;;, For useless was this wootlen thiu)?. riu u he a water-snake enipower'd, W ho one by one their race devour' J. They try to make esoajH) in vain, "Nor, dumb throui^h fear, can they complaia. ^y stealth they Merouiy depute, That Jove would onee more hear their suit, And send their sinkin;:; state to save ; But he in wrath this answer fijave : "You scorn'd the good king that you had, And therefore you shall bear the bad." Ye likewise, O Athenian friends. Convinced to what impatience teuils, Though slaveiy be no common curse, Be still, for feai* of woi"se and woi'se. III. THE VAIK JACKDAW. Lest any one himself should plume, And on his neighbour's worth presume ; But still let Nature's garb prevail — Ksop has left this little tale : A Daw, ambitious and absurd, Pick'd up the quills of Juno's bird ; And, with the gorgeous spoil adorn'd, All his o^\^l s;ible brethren scorn'd. And joiu'd the ])eacocks — whojn scoff 8tripj>"d the bold thief, and drove him ofi. The Daw, thus roughly handled, went To his o^v^l kind in discontent : But they in turn contemn the spark. And brand with many a shameful mark- Then one he formerly disdain'd, " Had you," said he, " at home remain'd— Content with Nature's ways and will, You had not felt th*^ peacock's bill ; Nor 'mongst the birds of your own dress Had been deserted in distress." 476 THE FABLES OF PU.EDRUS. Book L IV. THE DOG IN THE RIVER. The churl that wants another's fare Deserves at least to lose liis share. As through the stream a Dog convey'd A piece of meat, he spied his shade In the clear mirror of the flood, And thinking it was flesh and blood, Snapp'd to depiive him of the treat : — • But mark the glutton's self-defeat, Miss'd both another's and his own, Both shade and substance, beef and bone, Y. THE HEIFER, GOAT, SHEEP, AND UON. ; A partnership with men in power We cannot build ujion an hour. This Fable proves the fact too true : An Heifer, Goat, and harmless Ewe, Were with the Lion as allies. To raise in desert woods su})plies. There, when they jointly had the luck To take a most enormous buck. The Iiion first the pai-ts disposed, A.nd then his royal will disclosed. " The first, as Lion hight, I crave ; The next you yield to me, as brave ; The third is my peculiar due. As being stronger far than you ; The fourth you likewise will renounce, For him that touches, I shall trounce." Thus rank unrighteousness and force Seized all the prey without remorse. VI. T7IE FROGS AXD SUN. When Esop saw, with inward grief, The nuptials of a neighb'ring thief, He thus his narrative begun : Of old 'twas rumor'd that the Sun Would take a wife : with hideous cric!. The quer'lous Frogs alarm'd the skie.'i. J Fable VIII. Tin: fables of pii.edrus. 477 I Moved at their murmurs, Jove immin'l Wluit was the thiuLC that thiv tlcsinal 'i When thus i\ tenant of tlie lake, lu tenor, tor his Vtrethivn spake : '■ Ev'n now one Sun too mueh is found, Auil dries ujt all the pools around, Till we thy ereatures perish here ; But oh, how- dreadfully severe, Should he at k-ngth be made a sire, And propagate a raee of lire !" VIT. THE FOX AND THE TRAGIC ilASIU A Fox beheld a IMask— " O rare The headpiece, if ))ut brains wei'e there!" This holds — whene'er the Fates dispense Pomp, pow'r, aiiel everything but sense. VTII. THE WOLF AND CKANC. Who for his merit seeks a price From men of violence and vice, Is twice a fool — tirst so declared. As for the worthless he has cared ; Then after all, his honest aim Must end in punishment and shame. A bone the Wolf devoxu-'d in haste, Stuck in his greedy throat so fast. That, tortured with the pain, he roar'd. And ev'iy beast around imjilort^d. That who a remedy could find ^ Should have a premium to his mind. A Crane was wrou,'ht upon to trust 1 [is oath at length — and down she thrust Her neck into his throat impure. And so perform'd a dcsp'rate cure. At which, when she desii-ed her fee, '* You base, ungrateful minx," says he, " Whom I so kind forbore to kill. And now, forsooth, you'd bring your bill !' 473 TUE FABLES OF PII.EDRCS. Book I. IX. THE HARE AND THE SPARROW. Still to give cautions, as a frieud, And not one's ovm affairs attend, Is but impertinent and vain, As these few vei'ses will explain. A SpaiTOw taunted at a Hare Caught by an eagle high in air. And screaming loiid — " Where now," says she, " Is your renowTi'd velocity ? Why loiter'd your much boasted speed r" Just as she spake, an hungiy glede Did on th' injui-ious railer fall, Nor could her cries avail at all. The Hare, with its expiring breath, Thus said : " See comfort ev'n in deatli ! She that derided my distress JNIust now deplore her own no less." X. THE WOLF AJSTD FOX, WITH THE APE FOR JUDGE. Whoe'er by practice indisci'eet Has pass'd for a notorious cheat, Will shortly find his credit fail, Though he speak truth, says Esop's tale. The Wolf the Fox for theft arraign' d ; The Fox her innocence maintain'd : The Ape, as umpire, takes his seat ; Each pleads his cause with skill and heat. Then thus the Ape, with aspect grave, m The sentence from the hustings gave : • " For you. Sir Wolf, I do descry That all your losses are a lie — And you, with negatives so stout, O Fox ! have stolen the goods no doubt.* XI. THE ASS AND THE LION HUNTINa A coward, full of pompous speech, The ignorant may overreach ; But is the laughing-stock of those Who know how far his valor goes. J Fablf XII. TIIK rAIil.KS OF Pri.EDUU3. 47<> Onco on a time it camo to piuss, Tlu' Lion luinted with tlu* Ass, Wliom liiilin<; in the thickest shade Ho there pmposeil shouhl \v\nl him aiil, Hy tnnnpetiiii; so stranije a l»ray, That all the heasts he should dismay, And tirive them o'er the desert heath Into the lurkinij Lion's teeth. Proud of the ta.sk, the loiifj-ear'd loou Stniek up such an outraijeous tune, That 'twa.s a miraele to hear — The beasts forsake their haunts with fear, And in the Lion's fane's expired : Who, bein^:j now with slaughter tired, Call'd out the Ass. whose noise he stops. The Ass, paradiuLT from the copse. Cried out with most conceited seotf, " How did my music-piece go ofi"? " So well — were not thy courage known, Their terror had been all my own!" XII. THE STAG AT THE FOUNTAiy. Full often what you now despise Proves better than the things you prize ; Let Esop's naiTative decide : A Stag beheld, with conscious pride, (As at the fountain-head he stood) His image in the silver flood, ^ And there extols his branching horns, While his poor spindle-shanks4ie scorns — But, lo! he heai-s the hunter's cries, And, friirhten'd, o'er the champaign flies- - His s^vit■tness baffles the pursuit: At length a wood receives the brute, And by his bonis entangled there, The pack began his flesh to tear : Then dying thus he wail'd his fate: '• Unhapi'V me! and wise too late! How useful what I did disdain! How grievous that which made me vtiin'." 480 THE FABLES OF PH^ajRus. Book L Fi''' XIII. THE FOX AlO) THE CRO'ff. His folly in repentance ends, Who, to a llatt'ring knave attends. A Crow, her hanger to appease, Had from a window stolen some cheese. And sitting on a lofty pine In state, was just about to dine. This, when a Fox observed below, He thus harangued the foolish Crow : " Lady, how beauteous to the view Those glossy plumes of sable hue! Thy features how divinely fair ! With what a shape, and what an air! Could you but frame your voice to sing, You'd have no rival on the wing.** But she, now willing to display Her talents in the vocal way, Let go the cheese of luscious taste. Which Renard seized with gTeedy haste. The gi'udging dupe now sees at lasi That for her folly she must fast. XIV. THE COBBLER TURNED DOCTOB. A banknipt Cobbler, poor and lean, (No bungler e'er was half so mean) Went to a foreign jilace, and there Began his med'cincs to prepare : But one of more especial note He call'd his sov' reign antidote ; And by his technical bombast Contrived to raise a name at last. It happen'd t hat the king was sick, Who, willing to detect the trick, Call'd for some water in an ewer, Poison in which he feign'd to pour The antidote was likewise mix'd ; He then upon th' emjiiric fix'd To take the medicated cup, And, for a premiinn, drink it up Filhh XVT. TUr. FABLES OP ril.F.DRUS. 481 Tilt' quack, thi-ou2:1i droatl of doath, coufoja'i That ho wa:> of no skill possossM ; But all this <;ivat ami i^lorious jol) Was made of lumsouso ami tho mob. Tlu'ii dill tlu* kinu; his pooi-s convoke. And thus unto th' asscmldy s{)oke: '* My lords and s^cntK-UK'n, I rato Your folly rts inordinate. "Who trust your heads into his hand. Whore no one had his hods japann'd."— This story their attention craves Whose weakness is the prey of knaves. XV. THE SAPIENT ASS. In all the chanujes of a state, Tho poor are the most fortunate, Who, save the name of him they call Their king, can find no odds at all. Tho truth of this you now may read— A foailul old man in a mead. While leading of liis Ass about, Was startled at tho sudden sliout Of enemies approaching uigh. He then advised the Ass to fly, '• Lest we be t;iken in the ]ilace:" But loth at all to mend his pace, *• Pray, will the conqueror," quoth Jack, " \\ itb double panniers load my back ?" " No," says the man. " If that'tj the thing," Cries he, " I cai'e not who is king." XVI. THE SHEEP, THE STAG, AND THE WOLI AVhen one rogue would another get For surety in a case of debt, 'Tis not the thing t' accept the terms, But dread th' event — the tale atlirms. A Stag api>roach'd tho Sheep, to treat For one gooil bushel of Jier wheat. "The honest Wolf will give his bond." At which, beginning to despond, 2 I 482 THE FABLES OF PH.EDRU3. Book I. '* The Wolf (cries she) 's a vagrant bite. And jon are quickly out of sight ; Where shall I find or him or you Upon the day the debt is due ?" XTII. THE SHEEP, THE DOG. AND THE WOLF. Liars are liable to rue The mischief they 're so prone to do. The Sheep a Dog unjustly dunn'd One loaf directly to refimd, Which he the Dog to the said Sheep Had given in confidence to keep. The Wolf was summoned, and he swore It was not one, but ten or more. The Sheep was therefore cast at law To pay for things she never saw. But, lo ! ere many days ensued. Dead in a ditch the Wolf she view'd : " This, this," she cried, " is Heaven's decree Of justice on a wretch like thee." XIX. THE BITCH AND HER PUPPIEa. Bad men have speeches smooth and fair, Of which, that we should be aware, And such designing villains thwart, The undei-wi'itten lines exhort. A Bitch besought one of her kin . For room to put her Puppies in : I She, loth to say her neighbour nay. Directly lent both hole and hay. But asking to be repossess'd, For longer time the former press' d, Until her Pu]))>ies gather'd strength, Which second lease expired at length ; And when, abused at such a rate, The lender grew importunate, "The place," quoth she, '' I will resign When vou 're a match for me and mine.'* Fnblo XXII. Tin: FAni.ia ok I'li.KDura. 488 XX. THK IIUNORY DOGS. A stupid i>l;ui tliat fools project, Kot only will not taki- oHl'ct, ut provos tlo.struc-tivo in tiio oni To thoso that bnniile and pretend. Some linnpT l)t>trs bclKld an hide Pfop sunk btiuath the crystal tide, Which, that they niiujht extract tor food, They strove to drink iiji all the tlood; But bui"sten iu the dcsp'rate deed, They perish'd, ere they could succeed. XXI. THE OLD LION. Whoever, to his honor's cost, His pristine disunity has lost. Is the fool's jest and coward's scorn, Wlieii once deserted and forlorn. With years enfeebled and decay'd, A Lion t;asjiin day?" The Ox is hinji-r still, tlu-y sa\-. At lonj^h, with inoiv and inoif ->do, She raged aud putlVd, ami burst in two. XXV. TUK nor, AND TIIK caOCODIL& W'lio fjivo bad pivcopts to the wi.so, Aiy.1 cautious nu-n with tijuilc advise^ N«tVi\JTiLltvs^.tk3>ir\t«>i'Kand thn^ f^ But slip into saroa.stio rliymoc The dotxs that are about the Nile, Through terror of the Crocoilile, Are theit'fore said to drink and iim. It happen'd on a day. that one, As scamp'riui:: by the river side, Was by the Crocodile esjiied : *• Sir, at your leisure drink, nor fear The least design or treaeh'ry here." " That," says the Dog, "ma'm, would I do With all my heai-t, and thank you too, But as you can on dog's flesh dine/ You shall not taste a bit of mine/' XXVI. THE FOX AND TUE STORK. One should do injury to none; But he that has th' assault begim, Ought, says the falmlist, to find The dread of being served in Kind, A Fox, to sup within his cave The Stork an invitation gave, Where, in a shallow dish, was pour'd Some broth, which he -himself devour'd; While the i)Oor hungry Stork was fain Inevitably to abstain. The Stork, in turn, the Fox invites, And brinirs her liver and her lights Ina ta 11 flagon, finely minced. And thrusting in her beak, convinced The Fox that he in grief must fast, WMle she enj jy'd the rich repast. 486 THE FABLES OF PH.EDRXTSl. Book f Then, as in vain he lick'd the neck, The Stork was heard her guest to check, " That every one the fruits should bear Of their example, is but fair." XXVII. THE DOG, TKEASURE, AJTD VULTURE. A. Dog, while scratching up the ground, 'Mongst human bones a treasure found ; But as his i^acrilege was great, To covet riches was his fate, And punishment of his ofl'ence ; He therefore never stirr'd from thence, But both in hunger and the cold, With anxious care he watch'd the gold, Till wholly negligent of food, A ling' ring death at length ensued. Upon his corse a Vulture stood, And thus descanted : — " It is good, O Dog, that there thou liei;t bereaved Who in the highway wast conceived. And on a scurvy dunghill bred, Hadst royal riches in thy head." XXVin. THE FOX AND EAGLB. Howe'er exalted in your sphere, There's something from the mean to fear; For, if their property you wrong. The poor's revenge is quick and strong. When on a time an Eagle stole The cubs from out a Fox's hole, And bore them to her yoimg away. That they miglit feast upon the i>rey, The dam pursues the winged thief, And deprecates so great a gi'ief ; But sale upon the lofty tree. The Eagle scorn' d the Fox's plea. With that the Fox perceived at hand An altar, whence she snatch d a brand. And compassing with flames the wood. Put her in terror for her brood. FaMo XXX. THE faui.ks of rii.KDiits iS'i She llu'ivfoiv, It'st luT house slioiihl burn. Submissive did the cubs ix'turn. XXIX. THK FHOGS AND BULLS. ^len of low life are in distress When great ones enmity jn-ofess. Theiv wiis a BuU-tiLllit in the fen, A Frog cried out in trouble then, " Oh. what perdition on our race !" " How," says another, " can the caso Be quite so desp'rate as you've sjiid ? For they're contending who is head, And lead a life from us disjoin'd, Of sep'rate station, divei-se kind." — '• But he, who worsted shall retire, Will come into this lowland mire. And with his hoof d;ish out our brains, Wherefore their rage to us pertains." XXX. THE KITE AND THE DOVCS He that would have the wicked reign, Instead of helji will find his bane. The Doves had oft escaped the Kite, By their celerity of flight ; The ruthim then to coznage stoop'd. And thus the timrous race he du]ied: " Why do you lead a life of fcaY, Ilt\ther than my proposals heju:^? Elect me for your king, and I Will all your race indemnify." They foolishly the Kite believed. Who having now the pow'r received, Began upon the Doves to prey, And exerci.se tyrannic sway. " Justly," says one who yet remain'd, " We die the death oiirselves ordain' d." 488 THE FABLES OF PII.EDRU3. Book IL BOOK II. PROLOGUE. The way of writing Esop chose, Sound doctrine by example shows ; For nothing by these tales is meant, So much as that the bad repent ; And by the pattern that is set, Due diligence itself should whet. "Wherefore, whatever arch conceit You in our naiTatives shall meet (It with the critic's ear it take, And for some special purpose make). Aspires by real use to fame, Rather than from an author's name. In fact, with all the care I can, T shall abide my Esop's plan : But if at times I intersperse My own materials in the verse, That sweet variety may please The fancy, and attention ease ; Receive it in a friendly way ; Which gi-ace I purjiosc to repay By this consciousness of my song ; "Whose praises, lest they be too long, Attend, why you shoiild stint the sneal^ But give the modest, ere they seek. Fable I, the judicious Lioir. A Lion on the carcass stood Of a young heifer in the wood ; A robber that was passing there, Cftm^ up, and ask'd him for a share. " A share," says he, " you should receivfi. But that you seldom ask our leave For things so handily removed." At which the rufliiau was reproved. Frtl>lo III. Tin: k.vijlf:s of rii.rnnus. ASO It hai>pon\l that tlic stllVnmo day A uunlost itil!.\R AND HIS SL-VVii Thoro is in town a certain set Of mortals, ever in a sweat. Who idly bustlinj; heiv anil tliure^ Ifavo never any time to s|>aiu While upon nothini; tliey diseuss With heat, and most outra^a^ous fuss, Plaijue to themselves, and to the rust A most intolerable j>est. I will eorreet this stupiil elan Of busy-bodies, if I ean, By a true stoiy; lend an ear, 'Tis worth a tritler"s time to hear. Tiberius Ctvsar, in his way To Naples, on a certain day Came to his own ^lisenian seat, (Of old Luculluss ix'treat,) Which from the mountain top surveys Two seas, by lookimr difl'erent ways. Here a shrewd slave began to cringe With dapper coat and sash of fringe. And, as his miuster walk'd between The trees upon the tufted green, Finding the weather very hot, Officiates with his watring-jiot ; And still attending thi-ough the glado, Is ostentatious of his aid. Caesar turns to another row,-^ Where neither sun nor rain could go; He, for the nearest cut he knows. Is still before with j>ot and rose. Cap.sar ob.serves him twist and shift, And understands the fellow's diift; " Here, you sir," says th' imperiiJ lord. The bustler, hoping a reward, Euns skipping up. The chief in jest Thus the jioor jackanapes addre.ss'd " As here is no great matter dune. Small is the premium you have won : 492 THE FABLES OF PH.EDRU3. Book TL The cuffs that make a servant free, Are for a better man than thee." VI. THE EAGLE, CARRIOX CROW, AND TORTOISE. No soul can warrant life or right. Secure from men of lawless might ; But if a knave's advice assist, 'Gainst fraud and force what can exist ? An Eagle on a Toi-toise fell, And mounting bore him by the shell : She with her house her body screens. Nor can be hurt by any means. A Carrion Crow came by that way, " You've got," says she, " a luscious prey j But soon its weight will make you rue, Unless I show you what to do." The captor promising a share, She bids her from the upper air To dash the shell against a rock, Which woiild be sever'd b}' the shock. The Eagle follows her behest, Then feasts on turtle with his guest. Thiis she, whom Nature made so strong. And safe against external wi-ong, No match for force, and its allies, To cruel death a victim dies. VII. THE MULES AND ROBBERS. Two laden IMules were on the road — A charge of money was bestowed Upon the one, the other bore Some sacks of barley. He before. Proud of his freight, begun to swell, Stretch'd out his neck, and shook his belL The poor one, with an easy pace. Came on behind a little space, When on a sudden, from the wood A gang of thieves before theai stood ; And, Avhile the muleteers engage, Wound the poor creature in their rage Fublc VITI. THE Kvni.ra of pii.kdrus. -103 Kiger they seize the jjolden |>rizo, But the vile barley-bnijs tlesjiise. The phimUr'il inuk> was all i\»rl«»rn, The other thankM them tor their scorn : " 'Tis now my turn the head to toss, Sustuinini; neither wouml nor loss." Tile K>w estate's from peril elear. But wealthy men have much to fear. VIII. THE ST.Va AND TUF OXEJT. A Stag nnharhouril hy the hound?; Forth from his wootlland covert bounds, Aiitl blind with terror, at th" alarm Ot' death, miUces to a ueighb'ring farm ; There snug conceals him in some straw. Which in an ox's stall he saw. '• Wretch that thon art !"' a bullock cried, '' That com'st within this place to hide ; By tnisting man you are undone, And into sure destruction run." But he with sujipliant voice replies : " Do you but wink with both your eyes, I soon shall my occivsions shape, To make from hence a fair escape." The day is spent, the night succeeds, The herdsman comes, the cattle feed% But notliing sees — then to and fro Time after time the servant^ go ; Yet not a soul perceives the case. The steward pas.ses by the place, Himself no wiser than the rest. The joyful Stag his thanks address'd To all the Oxen, that he there Had found a refuge in desi)air. " We wish you well," an (Jx return'!, " But for your life are still couceni'd. For if old Argus come, no doubt, His hundred eyes will find you out." Scarce had the speaker made an end. When from the supj^er of a friend 494 THE FABLES OF PH.EDRU3. Book II. The master enters at the door, And, seeing that the steers -were poor Of late, advances to the rack. " Why were the fellow's hands so slack ? Here's hardly any straw at all, Binish down those cobwebs from the walL Pray how much labour would it ask ?" AV'hile thus he undertakes the task, To dust, and rummage by degrees, The Stag's exalted horns he sees : Then calling all his folks around. He lays him breathless on the ground. The master, as the tale declares, Looks sharpest to his o-svn affaiia. EPILOGUE. A STATUE of great cost and fame Th' Athenians raised to Esop's name, Him setting on th' the eternal base, Whom servile rank could not disgrace ; That they might teach to all makind The way to honor's unconfined, That glory's due to rising worth, And not alone to pomp and birth. Since then another seized the post Lest I priority should boast, This pow'r and praise was yet my own. That he shoidd not excel alone : Nor is this Envys jealous ire. But Emulation's genuine fire. And if Rome should apjirove mj piec^ She'U soon have more to rival Greeee. / But should th' iuAndious tov,n.\ doclaiy Against my plodding ovei They cannot take away, nor luir Th' internal conscience of desert. If these my stuilies rcai'h their aini, And, reader, your attention claim, If your perception fully weighs The drift of these my labour' d lays; Tiir FAin F.^ OF rn rnnua. 405 Then siu-h sucrt-ss i>ri'rluiii's coinplaiut. But it' the Picture which 1 jtaint Shouhl hnji|ien to attract their si^ht, W'lioui UukKss Nature brought to light, ^^'ho scorn the hibours of a nmu. Ami when they carp do all tliey can; Yet must this tktiil cause to mouru With all its bitterness be borne, Till fortune be ashamed of days, When gtuiiis fails, and int'rest sways. BOOK HI. PROLOGUE, TO EUTYCHUa The tales of Phaxhus wdidd you read, Eutychus, you must be freed From busine^s, that the mind unb( nt !May take the author's full intent. You urge that this poetic turn Of mine is not of such concern, As with your time to intertere A moment's space : 'tis therefore clear For those essays you have no call, Which suit not your aftiiii-s at alL A time may come, perhaps you'll say, That I shall make a holiday, And haAC my vacant thoui;hts^t lar^^e, The student's office to discharge — And can you such vile .stufl' jieruse, 1 lather than serve domt\stic views, Peturn the visits of a friend, Or with your wife your leisure spend, Relax your mind, your limbs relieve, And for new toil new strength receive ? From wordly c.ires you must estniiige Your thouylith, and feel u perfect change^ 496 THE FABLES OF PH.EDRUS. Book ITL If to Parnassus you repair, And seek for your admission there, Me — (whom a Grecian mother bore On Hil] Pierian, where of yore IMneiiiosyne in love divine Brought forth to Jove the tuneful T^ine. Though spi'ung where genius reign'd with art» I grublj'd up av'rice from my heai-t, And rather f(ir api)lause than pay, Embrace the literary way) Yet as a writer and a wit, With some abatements they admit. What is his case then, do you think, Who toils for wealth nor sleeps a wink. Preferring to the pleasing pain Of composition soi'did gain ? But hap what will ^as Sinon said, When to king Piiam he was led), 1 book the thii-d sh.all now fulfil, With ^sop for my master stiil j Which book I dedicate to you. As both to worth and honour due. Pleased, if you read — if not, content As conscious of a sure event, That these my fables shall remain, And after-ages entertain. In a few words I now propose To point from whence the Fable ro?e. A servitude was all along Exposed to most op}u-essive wrong, The suif 'rer therefore did not dare His licai-t's true dictates to declare ; But couoh'd his meaning in the veil Of many an allegoric tale, And jesting with a moral aim, Eluded all ofTence and blame. This is the path that I pursue, Inventing more than yEsop knew ; And certain topics by-the-by, To my own hindrance did 1 try. TMK FAHLf-S OK ril.flDIlUa 4'.l' fjiit was tlicii" any of niaiiTciiul, l^csiiU'S Sejaiius, so iiifliiuil, \Vlu> was aloiK' to work my fall, liifoniuT. witness, JikIl^o ami all ; 1 would oonfi ss tlio slaiulor tnn'. Ami own smh lianlsliijis were my duo; Nor would I lly, my j^rief to ease, To sueh poor lenitives a.s these. It" any throuixh siispieion en's, And to himself alone refei^s, \\'liat was design'd for thousands more He'll show too ])lainly, where he's sora Yet ev'n from such I crave excuse, For (fiir from ]K^:-sonal abuse) Mv vei-se in 2:en'ral woulil put down True life and mannei-s of the town. r>ut heiv, perhaj's. some one will ask Why I, foi-sooth, embraced this ta.sk ? If Ksop. thomrh a I'hryuian, rose. And ev'n derived from ScytliiaH snows ; If Auachai'sis could devise I'.y wit to i;ain th' inuT.ortai prize ; Shall I, who to learnd Greece belong, Keirlect her honour and her song, And by dull sloth myself disin'ace ? Since we can reckon up in Thrace, The authors that have sweetest sung, Where Linus from Apollo sprang ; And he whose mother was a inuse. Whose voice could tendemes§Jnfuse To solid rocks, strange monstei's quell'd, And Hebrus in his coui"se withheld. Envy, stand dear, or thou shalt rue Th' attack, for glory is my due. Thus having wiought upon your ear, I beg that you would be sincere, And in the poet's cause avow That candor, uU the world uiluw. 2 K 4'. 8 THE FABLES OF PH^DRUS. Book IIL Fable I. the old woiux and f^pty cask. An ancient dame a firkin sees, In which the rich Falernian lees Send trom the nobly tinctured shell A rare and most delicious smell! There when a season she had clung With greedy nostrils to the bimg, " O spirit exquisitely sweet !" She cried, " how perfectly complete Were you oi old, and at the best, When ev'n your dregs have such a zest !" They '11 see the drift of this my rhyme. Who knew the author in his prime. II. THE PANTHER AND SHEPHERDS. Their sconi comes home to them again Who treat the wretched with disdain. A careless Panther long ago Fell in a pit, which overtlirow The Shepherds all around alarm'd ; When some themselves wifeh cudgels armd j Others threw stones upon its head ; But some in pity sent her bread, As death was not the creature's due. The night came on - the hostile crew Went home, not doubting in the way To find the Panther dead next day. But she, recovering of her strength, Hprang from tlie pit and fled at length. Dut rusliing in a little space IVom forth her den upon the place, Hhe tears the Hock, the Shepherd slays, And all the region round dismays. Then they began to be afriiid Who sjtared tiie beast and lent their aid j They reck not of the loss, but make Their prayr for life, when thus she spake: •' I well remember them that threw The stones, and well remember you F.iMe V. TiiK K.viu.i-s OF pn.t;DKia 499 Wlio fj;ivo iiu- lnvjui - (U'sist to fo;ir, For 'twiuj tho opjiressor brought me Ik re." ' III. Till-: apk's ukad. A certain person, as he stood Within tlK' sluunbK's buying food, Amongst tho other kitrlu-n fare IVhi-hl an Ape suspended tl::ro; And a.sking liow 'twould taste, when dress' d, 'Ilie butelier shook his lieail in jest ; " If for suih prog your fancy is, Judge of the thivour by the phiz." This s]>eeeh was not so true as keen, For I in life have often seen (Jood features with a wicked heart, And plainness acting vii-tue's part, IV. ESOP AXD THE IXSOLEXT FELLOW. . Fools from success perdition meet. An idle wretch about the street At Esop threw a stone in rage. '• So much the better," quoth the .«age, And gives three farthings for the job ; *• I've no more money in my fob ; But if you '11 follow my advice, More shall be levied in a trice." It happen'd that the selfsame hour Came by a man of wealth and pow'r. " There, throw your jx*llet at my lord, And yon shall have a sure n ward!" The fellow did as he wa:5 told ; But mark the downfall of the bold ; Jlis hopes are baulk d. and, lo! he gains A ro])e and gibbet for his pains* V. Tin: FLV AXD THE MULE;, A Fly that sat ujvin the beam Katcd the Mule : " Why, sure you dream ? 2 K 2 500 THE FABLES OF PH.EDRUa Book III. " Pray get on faster viiih the cart Or I shall sting jon till you smart!" She answers : *• All this talk I hear With small attention, but must fear Him who upon the box sustains The pliant whip, and holds the reins. Cease then your pertuess — for I know When to give back, and when to go." This tale derides the talking crew, Whose empty thi-eats are all they do. VI. THE DOG AND THE WOLF. I will, as briefly as I may. The sweets of liberty display. A Wolf half famish'd, chanced to see A Dog, as fat as dog could be : For one day meeting on the road, They mutual comiDliments bestowed : " Prithee," says Isgrim, faint and weak, *' How came you so well fed and sleek ? I stai-ve, though stronger of the two." " It will be just as well with you," The Dog quite cool and frank rej^lied, " If with my master you'll abide." " For what r" '•' Why merely to attend, And from night thieves the door defend.** " I gladly will accept the post. What ! shall I bear with snow and frost And all this rough inclement plight, Ilather than have a home at night. And feed on plenty at my ease ?" '• Come, then, with me " — the Wolf agrees. But as they went the mark he found, Where the Dog's collar had been bound : '■ What's this, my friend r" " Why, nothing." " Nay, Be more explicit, sir. I pray." " I'm somewhat fierce and ajit to bite, '-'herefore they hold me pretty tight, That in the day-time I may sleep, And night by night my vigils keep. IVil' \' 1 1 Tin: FAiu-iN or ni.f.DRUs. 601 At ivoninutiiU' tlioy l^'t nu' out, And then I tVioly walk about : Broail couu's without a oaiv of mine. I tVoiu my master's table dine ; The servants throw mo many a scrap, With ohoiee of pot-liquor to lap; Ho. I've my bellylul, you tind." " But can you go where you've a mind ?'* '"Not always, to be llat and plain." " Then, Dog, enjoy your post again, For to ix'main tliis servile thing, Old Isgrim would not be a kinj " YII. THE DROTIIER AXD alSTni";. Warn'd by our council, oft beware, And look into yourself with care. There was a certain father liad A homely girl and comely lad. These being at their childish phiy Within their mother's room one day, A looking-glass was in the chair, And they beheld their faces there. The boy gi'ows prouder as he looks ; The gii'l is in a rage, nor brooks Her boasting brother's jests and .sneei'9, Affronted at each word she heai-s : Then to her father down she flies, And urges all she can devise ^ Against tlie boy, who could prcsuma To meddle in a lady's room. At which, embracing each in turn, "With most afl'ectionate concern, " My deal's," he says, " ye may not parf A day without this useful gkiss ; You, lest you spoil a jtretty face, By doing things to your disgrace ; Vou, by good conduct to correct Youi" form, aud bcuutity defect." 502 THE FABLES OF PH.^DRUS. Book IIL VIII. A SAYING OF SOCRATES. Though common be the name of friend. Few can to faithfukiess pretend, That Socrates (whose cruel case, I'd freely for his fame embrace, And living any en\'j bear To leave my chai-acter so fair) Was building of a little cot, When some one, standing on the spot^ Ask'd, as the folks are apt to do, " How comes so great a man as you Content with such a little hole r" — "I wish," says he, "with all my sou That this same little house I build Was with true friends completely fiU'd.'* IX. OF DOUBT AND CREDULITT. 'Tis frequently of bad event To give or to withhold assent. Two cases will th' affair explain — The good Hippolytus was slain ; In that his stepdame credit found. And Troy was levell d with the ground j Because Cassandra's prescious care Sought, but obtain"d no credence there. The facts should then be very strong, Lest the weak judge determine wrong : But that I may not make too free With fabulous antiquity, I now a curious tale shall tell, Which I myself remember well. An honest man, that loved his wife^ Was introducing into life A son upon the man s estate. One day a servimt (whom, of late, He with his freedom had endu'd) Took him aside, and being shrewd, Supposed that he might be his heir When he'd divulged the whole alikir. F;lll<> IX. TUK FAIM,K-S OF Til ilORrs. .'03 Miuli iliil ho lie atrainst t)u' ymitli, Hut more ajjc^iinst the matron's truth : And hinti'tl that, wliich wors( of nil Was suro a lover's lieart to gall, The visits of a lusty nike, And honour of liis house at stake. He at this scandal taking heat, Pretends a journey to liis seat ; But stopp'd at l>inid, while it was light, Where, on a sudden, and l>y night, IK' to his wife's apjirtnient sped, Wlu-re she had put tlu' lad to bed, As watehful of his youthful l)loom. While now they're running to the rofini, And seek a light in haste, the sire, No longer stitliug of his ire. Flies to the coueh, where gi'ouping round, A head, but newly shaved, he found ; Then, as alone, he vengeance hreath'd, The sword within his bosom sheath'd — The candle entring, when he spied The bleeding youth, and by his side The spotless dame, who being fast Asleep, knew nothing that had pass' J, Instant in utmost grief involved, He vengciince for himself resolved ; And on that very weajion flew. Which his too credlous fury drew. Th' accusers take the woman straight. And dnig to the centumvirate ; Th' ill-natured world directly built A strong suspicion of her guilts, .Vs she th' estate was-to enjoy — The lawyers all their skill employ ; Aad a great spirit those exert Who most her inuocence assert. The judL,'es then to Ciesar pray'd That he would lend his special aid ; Who, as they acted upon ontli. Declared thcmselve^i ext/rcim^i^ loth 504: THE FABLES OF PH.EDRUS Book IIL To close this intricate aff lir — He, taking then himself the chair, The clouds of calumny «lisj)laced. And Truth up to her fountain traced. " Let the frecdman to vengeance go. The cause of all this s :ene of woe : For the poor widow, thus undone, Deprived of husband and of son, To pity has a greater plea Than condemnation. I decree — But if the man, with caution due, Had rather blamed than listend to The vile accuser, and his lie Had strictly search'd A\-ith Reason's eye, This desp'rate guilt he had not known. Nor bi-anch and root his house o'ertln'own." Nor wholly scorn, nor yet attend Too much at what the tatlers vend. Because thei'e's many a sad neglect. Where you have little to suspect ; And treach'rous persons will attaint Men, against whom there's no complaint. Hence simple folks too may be taught How to form judgments as they ought, And not see with another's glass ; For tilings are come to such a pass, That love and hate work dilf'rent ways, As int'rest or ambition sways. Them you may know, in them confide, Whom by experience you have tried. Thus have I made a long amends For that brief style which some oifends. XI. THE COCK AND THE PEARTi, A Cock, while scratching all around, A Pearl upon the dunghill found : " O splendid thing in foul disgrace, Had there been any in the place F.iMcXllI. Tin: FAr.i.r.s of pii r.nnfs. 505 ^ That siiw ami knew thy worth wlicn sjIJ, Kiv tliis thtui h;ul.st hoon si't in jjolj. But I, whi» ratliLT wouhl have u;ot A corn of bark-v, hocil theo not ; Ko service ciui thoro roniU-r'd bo From me to you, and you to mo." I write this talc to them alone To whom in vain my pearls are thrown. XIT. THK BKKS AKD THE DU0NF5 Up in a lotty oak the Dees Had made their honey-combs : but thcso Tile Drones asserted they had wroutrht. Tlien to the bar the cause was In-ouglit Before the wasp, a learneil chief, AVho well mii:;ht argue either brief, As of a middle nature made. He therefore to both ])arties said : " You're not dissimihir in size, And each with each your color vies , That there's a doubt noneerning both : But, lest I err. upon my oath, Hives for youi-selves directly choose. And in the "wax the work infuse, That, from the flavor and the form. We may point out the geniiine swaim." The Di'ones refuse, the Bees agi'ce — Then thus did Ju-;tice Wasj) decree : " Who can, and who cannot, is plain, So take, ye Bees, your comT)s again." This nan*ative had l>een suppress'd Had not the Drones refused the test. XIII. VeSOP ri.AYINO. As Esop was with boys at play, And had his nuts as well as tliey, A grave Athenian, pa.ssing by, Cast on the sage a .scornful eye, As on a diitard quite bereaved : Which, when the moralist perceived. £0G TUE FABLES OF PH^DRUS. Book IIL \lrey secures j The nightingale can sing an ode ; The crow antl mven may foreboilo : -Ml these in sheer conteiitment crave No other voice than Nature gave." By atfectation be not sway'd, ^\'llere Nature has not lent her aid ; Nor to that flatt'ring ho{ie attend, Which must in disLijn ointment end. XVIII. ESOP AXD THE IMrOUTU.SATE FELLO'.V. I-iop (no other slave at hand) lleeeived himself his lord's command An eai'ly supper to provide. From liouse to house he therefore tried To beg the favor of a light ; At length he hit upon the right. But as when tii"st he sallied out He made his tour quite round about, On his return he took a race Directly, cross the market-]ilace : When thus a talkative buHoon, '■ Esop, what means this liy^ht at noon ?* He answer'd briefly, as he ran, '• Fellow. I'm looking for innan." Now if this jackanapes had weigh'd Tlie tiiie intent of what was said, He'd ibund that Er*op had no sense Of manhood in impei-tiuence. XIX. TUE ASS AXD PRIESTS OP CYCELH. The luckless wretch that's bom to woe Must all his life affliction know — And har ler still, his ci-iicl fate Will on his very ashes wait. 510 THE FABLES OF PH.€DRU3w Book TV. Cybele's priests, in que t of bread, An Ass about the village led, With things for sale irom door to door ; Till work'd and beaten more and more, At length, when the poor ci'eature died, They made them drums out of his hide. Then questioned " how it came to pass They thus could serve their darling Ass?" The answer was, " He thought of peace In death, and that his toils would cease ; But see his mis'ry knows no bounds, Still with our blows Lis back reaounds.'* COOK IV. PEOLOGUE. To you, who 've graver things bespoke, This seems no better than a joke, And light for mere amusement made; Yet still we drive the scribbling trade, And from the pen our jileasure find, When we've no greater things to mind. Yet if you look with care intense, These tales your toil shall i-ecompeuse; Appearance is not always true, And thousands err by such a view. 'Tis a choice spirit that has pried Where clean contrivance chose to hide; That this is not at random said, I shall produce u])(m this head A fable of an arch device, About the Weasel and the IMice. Fable I. the weazel and micb. A Weasel, worn with years, and lame, That could not overtake its game, FuMi- IT'. Tin: K.vm.Es of pii.Ennus. r»lJ Now witl) iho iiiinltlo Mice to ilo.il, l)is<;\iisi'il lui-siU" with li;irKy lucal; Tlun nL'i;limMit lu-r liml>.s slu- spivaJ III a sly nook, aiul liiy tor dead. A Mouse that thou'^'lit slie thrro might In il, Leajit u\\ aiul perish d in the ilccd; A socoml in like m-miur iliotl; A tliinl, aiul smithy more l)esiile: 'Ihen eomes the hrimlKil Mouse, a chap That oft eseapetl both snare ami trap, Ami seeing how the trick was played, Thus to his erat'ty toe he said : — •• So may'st thou prosper day and night, As thou art not an errant bite." II. Tin: FOX AND THE GUAPES. An hr.nirrv Fox with tieree attack Spiung on a Vine, but tumbled back, Nor could attain the point in view, 80 near the sky the bunches grew. As he went oti', "They re scurvy stufT," Says he, " and not half ripe enough — And 1 've more revreuce for my trijtcs Than to torment them with the gi'ipes," For those this tale is very pat Who lessen what they can't come at. III. THE IIOnSE AND BOAR. A Wild-Boar wallow'd in the flood, And troubled all the stream with mud. Just where a hoi*se to drink repair' d — He therefore havin|j war declared, Sought man's alliance for the tight, And bore njion his back the knight; Who being skilld his darts to throw. Despatched the Wild-Boar at a h\o\v. Then to the steed the victor .siiid, " I'm glad you came to me for aid, For taught how usetnl yoti can be, I've got at once a »|joi1 and thcv." 512 THE FABLES OF PII^EDRUS. Buok IV. Oa which the fields he made him quit. To feel the spur and champ the bit. Then he his sorrow thus express'd: " I needs must have my wrongs redress' d. And making tyrant man the judge, Must all my life become a drudge." This tale the passionate may warn. To bear with any kind of scorn; A nd rather all complaint withdraw Than either go to war or law. IV. ESOP AND THE WILL, That one man sometimes is more shrewd Than a stupendous multitude, To after-times I shall rehearse In my concise familiar verse. A certain man on his decease, Left his three girls so much a-piece: The first was beautiful and frail, With eyes still hunting for the male; The second giv'n to spin and card, A country hoiTsewife working hard; The third but very ill to pass, A homely slut, that loved her glass. The dying man had left his wife Executrix, and for her life Sole tenant, if she should fulfil These strange provisos of his will : " That she should give th' estate in feo In equal portions to the three; But in such sort, that this bequest Should not be holden or possess'd ; Then soon as they should be bereav'n Of all the substance that was giv'n, They must for their good mother's ease Make up an hundred sesterces." This spread through Athens in a trice; The prudent widow takes advice. But not a lawyer could unfold How they should neither have nor hold laMi' IV. TUli FAULl-:s OF l'lI.i:UKUS. 513 Tin.' vory tlunjjs tliat thoy wi>n> K-ft. ncsiiles. when oiuvthry wi-iv luivl't, How tlioy tVoin notliiuif slioultl confer Tlu' inoiioy that w;i^ »luo to ht-r. Whoa ;i Ioiil; tinu" was sjHnt in vain. Ami no one roiiKl tlio will ox|ilain, 8I10 lift the counsolloi's unfird, And thus of lior own self (loe-ivod : The minstrels, trinkets, plate, imd di'css, She tjave the Lady to possesa. Then 3Irs. Notable she stoeks With idl the tields, the kine and flocks: The workmen, farm, with a supply Of all the tools of husbandry. I>ast, to the Guzzler she consiinis The cellar stored with good old wines, A handsome house to see a friend, With pleasant gardens at the end. Thus as she strove th' aflair to close, By giving each the things they cho.se. And those that knew them e\ cry one Highly apiilauded what was done- Esop arose, and thus addressM The crov.-d that to his jnvseucc yires-s'tl: " O that the dead could yet jicroeivei How would the prudent father grieve. That all th' Athenians had not skill Enough to inuler.stand his will! Then at their joint request he solved That error, wliieh had all involved. " The gardens, house, and wine vaults too. Give to the spinster as her due ; The clothes, the jewels, and such ware, Be all the tippling lady's share ; The tields. the bams, and flocks of sheep, Give the gay courtesan to keep. Not one will bear the very touch Of things th:i± thwart their tastes so much ; The slut to fill her cellar straight Her wardrobe wjll evacuate; 2 L 514 THE FABLES OF PH.EDRUS. Book IV The lady soon will sell her farms, For garments to set off her charms ; But she that loves the flocks and kiuo Will alienate her stores of wine. Her rustic genius to employ. Thus none their portions shall enjoy, And from the money each has made Their mother shall be duly paid." Thus one man by his wit disclosed The point that had so many posed. Y. THE BAITLE OF THE MICE AND WEASETA t'he routed Mice upon a day Fled from the Weasels in array ; But in the hurry of the flight, What with their weakness and their fright Each scarce could get into his cave : Howe'er, at last their lives they save. But their commanders (who had tied Horns to their heads in martial pride, Which as a s'gnal they design" d For non-commission'd mice to mind) Stick in the entrance as they go, And there are taken by the foe, Who, greedy of the victim, gluts With mouse-flesh his ungodly guts. Each great and national distress Must chiefly mighty men oppress ; While folks subordinate and poor Are by their littleness secure. YI. PH.EDRUS TO THE CAVILLERS. Thou that against my tales inveigh'st, As much too {)leasant for vhy taste ; Egregious critic, cease to scoflf. While for a time I play you off, And strive to soothe your puny lage. A.S Esop comes upon the stage, FiiUc VII THE F.vni.US OF PU.F.DRUS. iI5 And (hvssM entirely now in Rume, Thus entoi-s with the traijie phiiue. — '■ () th;it the fair Thessalian pino Had never felt the wratli divine, And ti-arless of the axe's wound, Had still the IVlian niountain crown'd ! That Ariius by Palladiau aid Hail ne'er thi' advent rous vessel made ; In whieh at first, without dismay, IVath's bold professors won their way, III whieh th' inliospitable main Was first laid open for the bane Of Greeians and barliarians too. Whieh made the proud ^Eetsus rue, And whenee Medea's erimes to nouglit The house and reiRU3L As we shall manifest forth Nvith. — There was a hovel of a smith, Where a poor Viper chanced to steal. And being greedy of a meal, When she had seized upon a file, Was answer'd in this injgged style : " Why do you think, stu^^id snake ! On me your usual meal to make, Who've shai-jjer teeth than thine by far, And can corrode an iron bar r" YIII. THE FOX AXD THE GOAT. A crafty knave will make escape, When once he gets into a scrape, Still meditating self-defence, At any other man's expense. A Fox by some disaster fell Into a deep and fenced well : A thirsty Goat came down in haste. And ask'd about the water's taste, If it was plentiful and sweet ? At which the Fox, in rank deceit, " So great the solace of the rxm, I thought I never should have done. Be quick, my friend, yoiu* sorrows drowu." This said, the silly Goat comes down. The subtle Fox herself avails, And by his horns the mound ahe scales, And leaves the Goat in all the mire, To gratify his heart's desire. IX. THE TWO BAGS. Great Jove, in his paternal care. Has giv'n a man two Bags to bear ; That which his own default contains Behind his back unseen remains ; But that which othei-s' vice attests S\\ ags full in view before our breasts. Hence we're inevitably blind, Kelating to the Bag bciiiud ; Fable XI. TIIK FABLES OF PU.KDHUS. .',17 But wlun our noiirliliours misdoiucan, Our ccusuros are exeeetliug keen. X. THE SACRILEGIOUS TUIEF A villain to Jove's altar camo To liyht his caudle in the flame, Ami rol)l>\l the iroil iu dead of nighc, By his own conseerated lii^ht : Theu thus au awt'id voice was sent, As with the sjicrileice he went : ■ Though all tliis gold and silver plate As gifts of evil men I hate ; And their removal from the fane Can cause the Deity no j)ain ; Yet, caititr, at th" appointed time, Thy life shall answer for thy crime. But. for the future, lest this bhize, At which the pious pray and pi-aise, Should guide the wiekeil, I decree That no such iuterooui-se there be." Hence to this day all men decline To light their candle at the shrine ; Nor from a candle e'er pi-esume The holy light to re-illume. How many things are here contain'd. By kim alone can be explain'd Who coidd this useful tale invent. In the fii-st place, herein is mdant, That they ai-e often most youf foes Who from your (bst'riug hand arose. Next, that the hardeud villain's fate Is not from wrath precipitate, But rather at a destined hour. Lastly, we 're charg'd with all our pov/'r, To keep ourselves, by care intense, From all connexions with oH'ence. XI. HERCULES AND PLUTUS. Wealth by the brave is justly scom'd, Since men are from the tinith subom'd, 518 THE FABLES OF PH^EDRUS. Book I\' And a full chest perverts their ways From giving or deserving praise. When Hercules, for matchless worth, Was taken up to heiiv'n from earth, As in their turns to all the crowd Of gratidating gods he bow'd, When Plutus, Fortune's son, he spies, He from his face avciis his eyes. Jove ask'd the cause of this disgust : *' I hate him, as he is unjust, To %vicked men the most inclined, And grand corrupter of mankind." XII. THE HE-GOATS AND SHE-GOATS. When the She-Goats from Jove obtain' d A beard, th' indignant Males complain'd. That females by this near approach Would on theii' gravity encroach. " Suffer, my sapient friends," says he, " Their eminence in this degree. And bear their beard's most graceful length. As they can never have your strength." Warn'd by this little tale, agree With men in gen'ral forni'd like ihe^ While you by virtue still exceed, And in the spirit take the lead. XIII. THE PILOT AND SAILOKS. On hearing a poor man lament His worldly thoughts in discontent, Esop this tale began to write, For consolation and delight. The ship by furious tempests toss'd, The Mariners gave all for lost ; But midst their teai-s and dread, the sceu^ Is changed at once, and all serene. The wind is fail", the vessel speeds. The Sailors' boi.st'rous joy exceeds; The Pilot then, by peril wise. Was pron}pted to philosophiso. I'aMi' XV Tin: lAl'.l.KS OF IMI.CDKUS. .> | !» " "Tis rii^lit to put !i thu" rfsti-.iint Oil joy, ami to ivtanl coiiniluiiit , iVrauso alternate \\o\t -Make uj> our livos of bliuk ami whiti-." Xl\'. Tin: MAX Axu the addlil lTi>, tliiit malicious mon relieves, Ills tolly in a season orriives. A jSIan, against himself humane, Took u]> an Atlder. that had lain And stitfen'd in the frosty air. Ami in his bosom placed with care, ^\'here she with sjR-ed recov'ring breath, Her benefactor stung to death. Another Adder near the j> ace, On asking why she was so base. Was told, •• 'Tis othei's to dissuade ^ From giving wickedness their aid." XV. THE FOX AND THE DRAQOX. A Fox w;\s throwing up the soil, And while with his assiduous toil He buiTowd deep intf> the ground, A Dragon in his den he found, A-watching hidden treasure there. Whom seeing, Renard sjieaks him fair : '• Fii-st, for your pardon 1 apyly For breaking on your privacy; Then, as you very plainly sec That gold is of no use to me, Your gentle leave let me obtain To ask you, what can be the gain Of all this care, and what the fi'uit, That you should not with sleep recruit Your spirits, but your life consume Thus in an everla-sting gloom r" '• 'Tis not my profit here to stay," He cries ; '' but I must Jove obey." •• What ! will you therefore nothing tako Yourself, nor others welcome maker" 520 THE FABLES OF PH.EDRUi Bjjk TV " Ev'n so the fates decree." — •'•' Then, sir. Have patience, wliilst I do aver That he who like affections knowii Is bom with all the gods his foe.s. Since to that place you needs must speed. Where all your ancestors precede, Why in the blindness of your heart Do you torment your noble part ?" All this to thee do I indite, Thou grudging chuid, thy heir's delight, Who robb'st the gods of incense due, Thyself of food and raiment too ; Who hear'st the harp with sullen mien. To whom the piper gives the spleen ; W^ho'rt full of heavy groans and sigha When in their price provisions rise ; Who with thy frauds heaven's patience tire To make thy lieap a little higher, And, lest death thank tliee, in thy wUl Hast tax'd the undertakers bill. XVI, PH^DRUS, ON HIS FABLES. What certain envious hearts intend I very clearly comprehend, Let them dissemble e'er so much.— ' When they perceive the master s touch. And tiud 'tis likely to endure, They'll say 'tis Esoji to be sure — But what apjtears of mean design, At any rate they'll vouch for mine. These in a word I would refute : Whether of gi-eat or no re]iute, What sprung from Esop's fertile thought This hand has to perfection brought ; But waiving things to our distaste, Let's to the destined period haste. XVII. THE SHIPWRECK OF SIMONIDES. A man, whose learacd woi-th is known. Has always riches of his owii. TlIF, KAI'.I.KS OK l'll.T:i)Kl'a. ,')2tf Now for that prizo I inako luy pleu You promised to my hrovity. Ktvp your kiiul wonl ; lor lifo, my tViiuii, Is daily uoarcr to its end ; And I shall shai"e your lovo the loss Tlu' longer you your hand repress : The sooner you the boon insuiv, The more the tenure must endure ; And if I quiek possession take, The fjroater i>rolit must I make, While yet deelininLi; age subsists, A room for frieiidly aid exists. Anon with tasteless years grown weak, In vain benevolenee will seek To do me good — when Death at hand [Shall come and urge his last demand, 'Tis folly, you'll be apt to Siiy, A thousand times to beg and ]>ray Of one with so mueh worth and souse, Whose gen'rous bounty is propense. If e'er a miscreant suoeeeds, By fair confession of his deeds. An innocent otl'onder's case Is far more worthy of your grace. You for example sake begin, Then othci-s to the lure you'll win, And in rotation more and more Will soon communicate their stoio. Consider in your mind howYar At stake your word and hoaour are ; And let your closing the debate By what I may congratulate. I have been guilty jof excess Beyond my thought in this address But 'tis not easy to refrain A spirit w orkd up to disdain By wretches insolent and vile, With a dear conscience all the while. You'll ask me, sir, at whom i hint- In time they may appear in print. C-6 /HE PADLES OF PH.EDRU3. Book V. But give me leave to cite a phrase I met with in mj boyish days. " 'Tis dangerous for the mean and low Too plain their grievances to show." This is advice I shall retain While life and sanity remain. BOOK V. PROLOGUE, TO PARTICULO When I resolved my hand to stay For this, that others might have p'.ay, On reconsidering of my part I soon recanted in my heart: For if a rival should arise. How can he possihly devise The things that I have let alone. Since each man's fancy is his own, And likewise colouring of the piece ?"— - It was not theref )re mere caprice, But strong reflection made me write: W^herefore since you in tales delight, Which I, in justice, after all, Not Esop's, but Esopian call; Since he invented but a few; I more, and some entirely new, Keeping indeed the ancient style, With fresh materials all the while. As at your leisure you peruse The fourth collection of my muse, That you may not be at a stand, A fifth shall shortly come to hand ; 'Gainst which, if as against the rest, Malignant cavillers protest, Let them cai-p on, and make it pla'n They carp at what they can't attain. My fame's set'uve, since I can show How m(;u ot eminence like vou. Fal)lo T. THE Fvni.rs op pii.f:nRf|>laus« of li'ariK'il m^'ii. T. Dkmktuius and Mkxandiir. Tf Rsop's name at any time 1 brin>; into this measurod rhyme. To whom I've paid whate't-r I owe, Ix-'t all men by tlu'se ]tresents know, I with th' old fabulist make free, To strenijthen my authority. As certain sculptors of the age, The more attention to engage. And rai.se their price, the curious please. By forging of Praxiteles; And in like manner they purloin A M\TO to their silver coin. 'Tis thus our fables we can smoke, As jiietui-es for their age bespoke: For biting envA*, in disgust To new imjirovements, favors rust; But now a tale comes in of course, Which these assertions will enforce. Demetrius, who was justly call'd The tyrant, got himself in.stall'd. And held o'er Athens impiqus sway. The crowil, as ever is the way. Came, eager ru.shing far and^wid(\ And, '• Fortimate event I " they crierl. The nobles came, the throne adtlress'il : The hand by which -they were oppress d They meekly kiss'd, with inward stingd Of ajiiruish for the face of things. The idlers also, with the tribe Of those who to themselves prescribe Their ea.se and [doasure, in the end Came sneaking, lest they should oir< nil Amongst this troop Menander hies, v>o famous for his comedie.s. 528 THE FABLES OF Pii.EDuus. Book V. (Him, though he was not kuo\\Ti by sight, The tyrant read with great delight, Stiiick Avith the genius of the hard.) In flowing robes bedaub'd with nard, And saunt'ring tread he came along, Whom, at the bottom of the throng, When Phalereus beheld, he said : " How dares that fribble show his head In this our presence P" he was told — '■ It is Menander you behold." Then, changed at once fi-om fierce to bla:^d, He caU'd, and took him by the hand. II. THE THIEF AND THE TRAVELLFJ13. Two men equipp'd were on then- way; One fearful ; one without dismay, An able fencer. As they went, A robber came with black intent ; Demanding, upon pain of death, Their gold and silver in a breath. At which tl-e man of spirit drew. And instantly disarin'd and slew The Thief, his honor to maintain. Soon as the rogue was fairly slain, The tim'rous chap began to puff. And drew his sword, and stripp'd in buff — " Leave me alone w ith him ! stand back ! I'll teach him whom he should attack." Then he who fought, " I wish, my friend, But now you'd had such words to lend; I might have been confirm' d the more. Supposing truth to all you swore ; Then put your weapon in the sheath. And keep your tongue within your teeth. Though you may play an actor's part On them who do not know your heai't, I, who have seen this very day How lustily you ran away, Experience when one comes to blow* How far your lesohition goes." Fal)Io IV. Tiir F.vnLKs of phvedrus. 5L".> Tliis narrative to thoso T tell Who stand tlioir trromiil wlu'ii all is wi-l! ; }\nt in the hour ot" ])n'ssiuL; nooil Abash \1, most shanu I'ully ruoodo. III. THE BAl.l) MAX AND TllK FLY. As on hiss head she chanced to sit, A Man's bald pate a Gadfly bit; ]\{\ prompt to oriKsh the little foe, Dealt on himself a ixiMevous i)lo\v: At uhii'h the Fly, deriding said, " You that would strike an insect dead For one slight sting, in wrath so strict. What punishment will you intlict T pon yourself, who was so blunt To do yoiii'self this gross atlVont ?" — '• O," says the party, "is for me, I with myself can soon agree. The spirit of th' intentions all; But thou, detested cannibal ! Blood-sucker ! to have thee secured !More would I ghnlly have enut apprehend that life's at stake; For he you fatted up and fed With store of this, is stuck and dead." Struck with the import of this tale, I have succeeded to prevail 2 a 630 THE FABLES OF PH.EDKU' Bo-^k Y Upon my passions, and abstain, From peril of immod'rate gain. But, you will say, those that have come Unjustly by a handsome sum, Upon the pillage still subsist — Why, if we reckon up the list, You'll find by far the major part Have been conducted in the cart : Temerity for some may do, But many more their rashness rue. V. THE BUFFOON AND COUXTRY-IELLOW/. In ev'ry age, in each profession, j\Ien err the most by prepossession ; But when the thing is clearly shown. Is fairly m-ged, and fiilly known, "\Ve soon applaud what we deride. And penitence succeeds to pi'ide. A certain noble, on a day, Ilaving a mind to show away, Invited by reward the mimes A nd play'rs and tumblei-s of the times, And built a large commodious stage For the choice spirits of the age : But, above all, amongst the rest There came a genius who profess'd To have a curious trick in store That never was jierform'd before. Through all the town this soon got air, And the whole house was like a fair ; |] But soon his entry as he made, Without a promjiter or parade, 'Twas all expectance and susjiense, And silence gagg'd the audience. He, stooping down and looking big, So wondrous well took off a pig. All swore 'twas serious, and no j()ke, For that, or underneath his cloak He had concealed some grunting elf^ Or was a real hoc himsel£ Falilf \'. Tiir. FAn.Fs OF rn.F.t>KTs. 531 A smroh was matlo— no piij was fuiiml - With thuinrrin^ claj>s tlu" siiits ri'souinl. Ami pit. ami Im)x, and i^iU'rit's roar With — " O rare! liravu!" ami " fuoorc" Old liOi^er Grouse, a country rlown. Who yt't know sonu'thini; ut" the town, Ix'hoKl the niiniii' i>l" his whini, And on the morrow chalk-nt^ed him Dedai'ins; to each heaii ami belle That he this i^nniter would excel. The morrow came — the crowd was gi*eater— • But j>rejudice and rank ill-nature Usurpd the minds of men and wenches, Who came to hiss and break the beuthes. The mimic took his usual station, And sque;ik'd with general ajiprobation ; Again '"Encore! encore!" they ciy — " "Tis quite the thing, 'tis very high." Old Grouse couceal'd, amiilst this racket, A real pig beneath his jacket — Then forth he came, and with his nail He pinch'd the urchin by the taU. The tortured pig, from out his throat, Produced the genuine nat'ral note. All beU'iwd out 'twas very sad ! Sure never stufl' was half so bad. *' That like a pig!" each cried in scoff; "Pshaw! nonsense! blockhead! oti"! off! offl'* The mimic was extolld, and Grouse Was hiss'd, and catcall'd from the house. " Soft ye, a word before I go," Quoth honest Hodge ; and stooping low, Produced the pig, aiTd thus aloud Bespoke the stupid partial crowd : '• Behold, and learn from this poor cmtur. How much you critics know of natur!" TO PARTICULO As yet my muse is not to seek, But can from fresh materials speak ; 532 THE FABLES OF Fi:.EDBUs. BooV V. And our poetic fountain springs With rich variety of things. But you're for sallies shoi-t and sweefc ; Long tales their purposes defeat. Wherefore, thou worthiest, best of mei. Particulo, for whom my j)en Immortal honour will insure, Long as a rev'rence shall endure For Roman learning — if this strain Cannot your approbation gain, Yet, yet my brevity admire, Which may the more to praise aspire. The more our poets now-a-days Are tedious in theii* lifeless lays. VI. THE TWO CALD ^T.S. As on his way a Bald-pate went, He found a comb by accident ; Another, with a head as bare. Pursued, and hoUow'd for a share. The first produced the prize, and cried, " Good Providence was on our side ; But by the strange caprice of Fate, We 're to no purpose fortunate ; And, as the proverb says, have found A hobnail, for a hundi'ed pound." They by this tale may be relieved Whose sangTiine holies have been deceived* VII. PRINCE THE PIPER. A little, friv'lous, abject mind, Pleased with the rabble, puff'd with winol. When once, as fast as pride presumes, Itself with vanity it plumes. Is by fond lightness brought with easo To any ridicule you please. One Prince, a piper to the play. Was rather noted in liis way, As call'd upon to show his art, Wiicno'er Bathyllus did his par* aM'' Vir. TMK FAr.M'.s OF ni r.nia-s. 538 III' luitij; at a cort;iiii fair. (I do not well n^mtinlHr \vl)(>n\') While tliey puU'd down the i)u.)th in hasto, Not tiikiuijf heoil. his Iol; disphvirtl, Ho from the scallold loll so hard — (\Vould he his pipos had rathor niarrM! Thoui,'h thoy, jioor follow ! wero to hiiu As doar alniost as lifo and limh). Borne hy the kind oilioious erowd. Homo ho 's condmted. ufroaninijj loud. Some months elapsed before ho found Himself reeovor'd of his wound: !^^eantim(^ acoording to their way, The droll frequontei"s of the play Had a great miss of him, whose toti(>h The danoei*s' spirits raised so much. A certain man of high renown Was just preparing for the town Some games the mob to entertain, When Prince began to walk again ; Whom, what with bribes and pray'i"S, his graoe Prevail'd upon to show his face In this jM'rformance, by all moans — And wliile he waits behind the scones, A rumour through the house is spread. By certain, that "the piper's dead." Others cried out, " The man is here, And will immediately ajipeajp." The curtain draws, the lightnings flash. The gods speak out their ustlal trash. An ode, not to the Piper known, Was to the chorus leader shown, Which he was ordered to repeat, And which was closed with this concoif — • " Kcceive with joy, O loyal Rome, Thy Prince just rescued from his tomb." Thoy all at once stand up and claj., At which my most facetious chap Kisses his hand, and scniiK-s and bows Xo his good patrons in the house. >31: TIIC FABLES OF PU/EDRUS, Eook First the equestrian order smoke The fool's mistake, and high in joke, Command the song to be encort-d ; Which ended, flat upon the board The Piper falls, the kuights acclaim ; The people think that Princes aim Is for a crown of bays at least. Now all the seats pej'ceived the jest, And with his bandage white as snow, White frock, -white pumps, a perfect beauty Proud of the feats he had acliieved. And these high honoui-s he received, With one unanimous huzza, Poor Prince was kick'd out of the i)lay. VIII. OPPORTUNITY. Bald, naked, of a human shape. With fleet wings ready to escape, Upon a razor's edge his toes, And lock that on his forehead gi'ows — Him hold, when seized, for goodness" sako^ For Jove himself cannot retake The fugitive w hen once he's gone. The picture that we here have di-awu Is Opportunity so brief — The ancients, in a bas-relief, Thus made an efiigy of Time, That every one might use their prime j Nor e'er impede, by dull delay, Th' efiectual business of to-day. IX. THE BULL ASD TUE CALF. A Bull was struggling to secure His passage at a narrow door, And scarce could reach the rack of hay, His horns so much were in his way. A Calf ofticious, fain would show How he might twist himself and go. Fable X. Tin: F\in.T:s of imikdrfs. " IIoKl thoxi tliy prato ; all this," sjiys ho, " Eiv thou wiTt lalvoil was known to nu'," lie. tliat a wiser man liy halt' Would t<.'uch, may thiuk IiiiuM If (Ins Calf. Jt- THE OLD DOO AND nil; IILMnM.VN. A Dog, that time and oftrn tried, His master always satisHcd ; And whensoever he assiiil'd, A,£pimst the tbrest-beasts prevail'd Both hy activity and strength, Throxigh yejirs began to llag at length, C)ne day, when hounded at a boar, His ejir he seized, as heretofore ; But with his teeth, decay'd juid old, Could not suceeed to kt-tj) his hold. At which the huntsman, much concem'd. The vctrau huli" d. who thus retiuiid : '• !My resolution and my aim, Though not my strength, are still the same; For w hat J am if I am chid, IVaise what I was. and what I did." Phiktus, you the drift jXTceive Of tliis, w ith w iucb I take my leavei JTHE END. ^XDOIf PRPCTRn BT wn,t.IAl» rtOWRS AKP gOWS. LIMITBO, SIAMruKO OTliEET AND CUAKINO CKUoa. ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BOHN'S LIBRARIES March, 1894. ' I may say in regard to all manner of books, Bohn's Publi;.ation Series is the usefuUest thing I know." — Thomas Carlyle. ' The respectable and sometimes excellent translations of Bolm's Library have done for literature what railroads have done for internal intercourse." — Emerson. 'An important body of cheap literature, for which every living worker in this country who draws strength from the past has reason to be grateful.' Professor Henry Morley. BOHN'S LIBRARIES. STANDARD LIBRARY . HISTORICAL LIBRARY PHILOSOPHICAL LIBRARY ECCLESIASTICAL LIBRARY ANTIQUARIAN LIBRARY . ILLUSTRATED LIBRARY . SPORTS AND GAMES . CLASSICAL LIBRARY . COLLEGIATE SERIES . SCIENTIFIC LIBRARY. ECONOMICS AND FINANCE REFERENCE LIBRARY NOVELISTS' LIBRARY ARTISTS' LIBRARY . CHEAP SERIES . SELECT LIBRARY OF STANDARD WOl 343 Volumes. 23 Volumes. 17 Volumes. 15 Volumes. 36 Volumes. 75 Volumes. 16 Volumes. 108 Volu.mes. 10 Volumes. 46 Volumes, 5 Volumes. 30 Volumes. 13 Volumes. 10 Volu.mes. 55 Volumes. KS 31 Volumes. ' Messrs. Bell are determined to do more than m.uniiun the reput.ition of " Bohn's Libraries."' — Guirdian. ' The imprint of Bolm's Standard Library is a guaranty of good editing.' Critic- (N.Y.). ' This new and attractive form in which the volumes of Bohn's Standard Library are being issued is not meant to hide either indifference in the selection of books included in this well-known series, or carelessness in the editing.' Si. James i Gazette. ' Messrs. Bell & Sons are making constant additions of an eminently acceptable character to " Eoh.i's LibrariC)."' — Athencrum. ALPlIABKllLAL LIS r OF BOOKS CilN r.\INKI> IN BOHN'S LIBRARIES. 747 Vols., Small Post 8vo. cloth. Price £160. Complete Detailed Catalogue icill be sent on amplication. Addison's Works. 6 vols. y. 6J. each. Aeschylus. Wrse Trans, by Anna S\s.inwn.'k. 5J. Prose Trans, by T. .A. Buckley. y. 6J. Agasslz & Gould's Comparative Phy- siology. 5-.-. Alflerl's Tragedies. Trans, by Bowring. 2 vols. y. 6d. each. Alford's Queen's English, i^. & is. 6d. Allen's Battles of the British Xavy. 2 vols. y. each. Anunlanus Marcellinus. Trans, by C D. Yonge. -js. 6J. Andersen's Danish Tales. Trans, by Caroline Peachey. y. Antoninus (Marcus .Aurelius). Trans. by George Long. y. 6d. Apollonlus Rhodius. TheArgonauiicii. Trans, by E. P. Coleridge. 55. ApuIeiUB, The Works of. y. AriostO's Orlando Furioso. Trans, by W. S. Rose. 2 \oIs. y. each. Aristophanes. Trans, by W. J. Hickie. 2 vols. y. each. Aristotle's Works. 5 vols, y. each ; 2 vols, y. 6d. each. Arrlan. Trans, by E. J. Chinnock. 5J. Aschams Scholemaster. (J. E. 13. -M.iyor. ) IS. Bacon's Essays and Historical Works. y. 6d. ; Essays, is. and is. 61/.; Novum Organum, and Advanceniei.t of Learning, y. Ballads and Songs of the Peasantr)-. r.y Robert Pxrll. y. 6d. ss's lexicon to the Greek Test. 2j-. Baz's Manual of the History of Philo- sophy. 5f. Beaumont & Fletcher. I.eigh Hunt's Selections, y. 6d. Bechstein's Cage and Chamber Birds. Beckmann's History of Inventions. 2 vols. y. 6J. each. Bede's Ecclesiastical History and the A. S. Chronicle. 5^. Bell (Sir C.) On the Hand. y. Anatomy of E.xpression. y. Bentley's Phalaris. y. BJornson's Ame and the Fisher I.assii'. Trans, by W. H. Low. y. 6d. Blair's Chronological Tables. ioj. Index of Dates. 2 vols. y. each. Bleek's Introduction to the Old Testa- ment. 2 vols. y. each. Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy, . .uul IS. 6J. De Stael's Corinni'. Tnins. by Kiiiily Halilwiii ami I'aulina Driver. 3^. 6atisc on P' ing. Trans, by J. V. Rigaud. LepBlus' Letters from Egypt, itc. Ti by L. and J. B. Homer, y. Lessing's Dr.imatic Works. Trans. TIrnest Bell. 2 vols. y. (xi. cii Nathan the Wise and Minna \ Barnhelm. is. and is. 6. Bohn.) 51. .md lof. 6. Walson. 2 vols. 5^. o.ich. Racine's Tragedies. Trans, by K. B. 1 '.OS will. 2 vols. 3^. 61/. each. Ranke s History of the Popes. Trans. by E. Foster. 3 vols. y. 6d. each. l.atin and Teutonic Nations. Trans, by P. A. Ashworth. 3^. 6./. History of Servia. Trans, by Mrs. Kerr. 3^. 6d. Renuie's Insect Architecture. (J. G. Wood. ) 5J. Reynold's Discourses and Kssays. ( Hccchy. ) 2 vols. y. 6J. each. Rlcardo'S Political Economy. (Con- ner. ) y. Richter's Levana. y. 6ii. ■ Flower Fruit and Thorn Pieces. ^r.^n^. by Lieut. -Col. Ewing. y. 6. 2 vols. y. each. Roger of Wendover. Trans, by Dr. Giks. 2 vols. y. each. ^ Roget's Animal and Vegetable Phy- siology. 2 vols. 6s. each. Rome in the Nineteenth Century. (C. A. E. by .A. Ilenfrey. 51. Sclxumann's Ivirly Letters. Irans. May Herbert, y. 6d, Reissmann's Life of. Tnins. •A. L. Alger. 3^. bd. Seneca on Benefits. Trans, by AuL Stewart. 3^^. 6d. Minor Essays and On Clemen Trans, by Aubrey Stewart, y. Sbarpe's History of Egypt, a v 5J-. eacli. Sheridan's Dramatic Works, y. 6 I'l.iys. IS. and is. 6d. Sismondi's Literature of the Souil Europe. Trans, by T. Roscoe. vols. y. 6d. each. Six Old English Chronicles, y. Smith (Archdeacon). Synonynu ; .Antonyms, y. Smith (.Adam). Wc.Tlth of Nai- (Belfort Ba.x.) 2 vols. y. 6d. ■ Theory of Moral SeniiniL y. 6 T. A. Buckley, y. 6d. Voltaire's Tales. Trans, by R. B Boswell. y. 6d. Walton's Angler. 5^. Lives. (A. H. Bullen.) y. Waterloo Days. By C. A. Eaton. IS. and IS. 6d. Wellington, Life of. By 'An Old Soldier.' y. Werner's Templars in Cyprus. Trans. by E. A. M. Lewis. 3^. 6d. Westropp's Handbook of .Archaeology Wlieatley. On the Book of Common Prayer, y. 6>d. Wheeler's Dictionary of Noted Names of Fiction. 5^. ■White's Natural History of Selborne. S-f- Wieseler's Synopsis of the Gospels. WiUlam of Malmssbury's Chronicle. Wright's Dictionary of Obsolete and Provincial English. 2 vols. y. each. Xenophon. Trans, by Rev. J. S. Wat- son and Rev. H. Dale. 3 vols. y. ea. Young's Travels in France, 1787-89. (M. Betham-Edwards.) y. 6d, Tour in Ireland, 1776-9. (A. W. Mutton.) 2 vols. 3^^. 6d. each. Yule-Tide Stories. (B. Thorpe.) 5^. 16 Nica Ni-\v K.litt iM. riui.. Sv -. tl-l. ('.•u'h, not. THE ALDINE EDITION OK I UK BRITISH POETS. 'This c.xcollcnt mlitiun of tlio Kuiflii'li olassic?, with tliuir coiii|iIt