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Title: The Comedies of Terence

Author: Terence

Translator: Henry T. Riley

Release date: July 31, 2007 [eBook #22188]
Most recently updated: July 28, 2021

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22188

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMEDIES
OF TERENCE ***

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This translation was published as part of a volume also containing the 1765
George Colman text. These are available as a separate e-text. For details on
the Riley translation and its publishing history, including the source of the
frontispiece, see the end of this file.
Italics in the translation indicate text added by the translator, not present in
the Latin original.

THE
COMEDIES

OF
TERENCE.
LITERALLY TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH PROSE,
WITH NOTES.

By HENRY THOMAS RILEY, B.A.,
LATE SCHOLAR OF CLARE HALL, CAMBRIDGE.
TO WHICH IS ADDED

THE BLANK VERSE TRANSLATION OF

GEORGE COLMAN.

NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
FRANKLIN SQUARE.

1896.

HARPER’S

NEW CLASSICAL LIBRARY.
COMPRISING LITERAL TRANSLATIONS OF

CÆSAR. CICERO’S TUSCULAN DISPUTATIONS,
VIRGIL. THE NATURE OF THE GODS, AND THE
SALLUST. COMMONWEALTH.
HORACE. JUVENAL.
TERENCE. XENOPHON.
TACITUS. 2 Vols. HOMER’S ILIAD.
LIVY. 2 Vols. HOMER’S ODYSSEY.
CICERO’S ORATIONS. HERODOTUS.
CICERO’S OFFICES, LÆLIUS, CATO DEMOSTHENES. 2 Vols.
MAJOR, PARADOXES, SCIPIO’S THUCYDIDES.
DREAM, LETTER TO QUINTUS. ÆSCHYLUS.
CICERO ON ORATORY AND SOPHOCLES.
ORATORS. EURIPIDES. 2 Vols.
PLATO (SELECT DIALOGUES).

12mo, Cloth, $1.00 per Volume.

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

PREFACE.

In this Version of the Plays of Terence the Text of Volbehr, 1846, has been
followed, with the few exceptions mentioned in the Notes.
The Translator has endeavored to convey faithfully the meaning of the
author, and although not rigorously literal, he has, he trusts, avoided such
wild departures from the text as are found in the versions of Echard, Cooke,
Patrick, and Gordon.

CONTENTS.

COMEDIES OF TERENCE: IN PROSE.

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

About this Translation
The comedies of Terence, translated by Henry Thomas Riley (1816-1878, B.A.
1840, M.A. 1859), were originally published in 1853 as part of Bohn’s Classical
Library.
The series was later sold to Bell & Daldy, which became George Bell & sons; it is
almost certain that the 1887 edition shown here was set from the original 1853
plates. The text appeared in an omnibus volume also containing two translations
of the fables of Phaedrus: Riley’s own, and those of Christopher Smart (1765).
The 1859 Harper’s edition—issued during Riley’s lifetime—omitted the Phaedrus
translations. Instead it added George Colman’s translation of Terence,
coincidentally also from 1765. Only the translations themselves were included,
not the notes and commentary quoted by Riley in his own notes.
The Harper’s edition differs from Bell/Bohn in a few minor points of spelling and
punctuation, but it is very nearly a typographic facsimile of the London original.
Readers who are familiar with the American edition of Riley’s translation of Ovid’s

Metamorphoses should be reassured to learn that the present text seems to have
been much more carefully composed and typeset.

London 1853/1887 New York 1859

Both title pages were wholly capitalized. In the transcription, lines printed in smaller
type are shown as lower case.

The The
COMEDIES COMEDIES
of of
TERENCE. TERENCE.
And
THE FABLES OF PHÆDRUS.

Literally Translated into English Prose, Literally Translated into English Prose,
with Notes. with Notes.
By HENRY THOMAS RILEY, B.A., By HENRY THOMAS RILEY, B.A.,
Late Scholar of Clare Hall, Cambridge. Late Scholar of Clare Hall, Cambridge.

To Which is Added To Which is Added
A METRICAL TRANSLATION OF the Blank Verse Translation of

PHÆDRUS, GEORGE COLMAN.
By Christopher Smart, A.M.

London: George Bell & Sons, York Street, New York:
Covent Garden. Harper & Brothers, Publishers,
1887. Franklin Square.
1859.

This page from late in the volume shows how closely the New York edition followed the
physical format of the London original.

The Frontispiece
The frontispiece shown at the beginning of this e-text is taken from the Bell/Bohn
edition; it is absent from the New York edition. The New York edition also omitted
all illustrations—including a similar frontispiece—from the Colman text.

ANDRIA;
THE FAIR ANDRIAN.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Simo,1 an aged Athenian.
Pamphilus,2 son of Simo.
Sosia,3 freedman of Simo.
Chremes,4 an aged Athenian.
Charinus,5 a young Athenian, in love with Philumena.
Crito,6 a native of Andros.
Davus,7 servant of Simo.
Dromo,8 servant of Simo.
Byrrhia,9 servant of Charinus.
Glycerium,10 a young woman beloved by Pamphilus.
Mysis,11 her maid-servant.
Lesbia,12 a midwife.

Scene.—Athens; before the houses of Simo and Glycerium.

T H E S U B J E C T.

Chremes and Phania were brothers, citizens of Athens. Chremes going to
Asia, leaves his daughter, Pasibula, in the care of his brother Phania, who,

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

Pamphilus, who promises Charinus that he will use his best endeavors to
obtain for him the hand of Philumena.

T H E T I T L E O F T H E P L A Y.

Performed at the Megalensian Games;13 M. Fulvius and M. Glabrio being
Curule Æediles.14 Ambivius Turpio and Lucius Atilius Prænestinus15
performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius,16 composed the music, to
a pair of treble flutes and bass flutes17 alternately. And it is entirely
Grecian.18 Published—M. Marcellus and Cneius Sulpicius being Consuls.19

ANDRIA;
THE FAIR ANDRIAN.

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

THE PROLOGUE.
The poet, when first he applied his mind to writing, thought that the only
duty which devolved on him was, that the Plays he should compose might
please the public. But he perceives that it has fallen out entirely otherwise;
for he is wasting his labor in writing Prologues, not for the purpose of
relating the plot, but to answer the slanders of a malevolent old Poet.20 Now
I beseech you, give your attention to the thing which they impute as a fault.
Menander composed the Andrian21 and the Perinthian.22 He who knows

either of them well, will know them both; they are in plot not very different,
and yet they have been composed in different language and style. What
suited, he confesses he has transferred into the Andrian from the Perinthian,
and has employed them as his own. These parties censure this proceeding;
and on this point they differ from him, that Plays ought not to be mixed up
together. By being thus knowing, do they not show that they know nothing
at all? For while they are censuring him, they are censuring Nævius,
Plautus, and Ennius,23 whom our Poet has for his precedents; whose
carelessness he prefers to emulate, rather than the mystifying carefulness24
of those parties. Therefore, I advise them to be quiet in future, and to cease
to slander; that they may not be made acquainted with their own misdeeds.
Be well disposed, then; attend with unbiased mind, and consider the matter,
that you may determine what hope is left; whether the Plays which he shall
in future compose anew, are to be witnessed, or are rather to be driven off
the stage.

ACT THE FIRST.
Scene I.

Enter Simo and Sosia, followed by Servants carrying provisions.
Simo (to the Servants.) Do you carry those things away in-doors; begone.
(Beckoning to Sosia.) Sosia, just step here; I want a few words with you.
Sosia. Consider it as said; that these things are to be taken care of,
I suppose.25
Sim. No, it’s another matter.
Sos. What is there that my ability can effect for you more than this?
Sim. There’s no need of that ability in the matter which I have in hand; but
of those qualities which I have ever known as existing in you, fidelity and
secrecy.

Sos. I await your will.
Sim. Since I purchased you, you know that, from a little child, your
servitude with me has always been easy and light. From a slave I made you
my freedman;26 for this reason, because you served me with readiness. The
greatest recompense that I possessed, I bestowed upon you.
Sos. I bear it in mind.
Sim. I am not changed.
Sos. If I have done or am doing aught that is pleasing to you, Simo, I am
glad that it has been done; and that the same has been gratifying to you,
I consider sufficient thanks. But this is a cause of uneasiness to me; for the
recital is, as it were, a censure27 to one forgetful of a kindness. But tell me,
in one word, what it is that you want with me.
Sim. I’ll do so. In the first place, in this affair I give you notice: this, which
you suppose to be such, is not a real marriage.
Sos. Why do you pretend it then?
Sim. You shall hear all the matter from the beginning; by that means you’ll
be acquainted with both my son’s mode of life and my own design, and
what I want you to do in this affair. For after he had passed youthfulness,28
Sosia, and had obtained free scope of living, (for before, how could you
know or understand his disposition, while youthful age, fear, and a master29
were checking him?)—
Sos. That’s true.
Sim. What all young men, for the most part, do,—devote their attention to
some particular pursuit, either to training horses or dogs for hunting, or to
the philosophers;30 in not one of these did he engage in particular beyond
the rest, and yet in all of them in a moderate degree. I was pleased.
Sos. Not without reason; for this I deem in life to be especially
advantageous; that one do nothing to excess.31
Sim. Such was his mode of life; readily to bear and to comply with all; with
whomsoever he was in company, to them to resign himself; to devote
himself to their pursuits; at variance with no one; never preferring himself

to them. Thus most readily you may acquire praise without envy, and gain
friends.
Sos. He has wisely laid down his rule of life; for in these days
obsequiousness begets friends; sincerity, dislike.
Sim. Meanwhile, three years ago,32 a certain woman from Andros removed
hither into this neighborhood, driven by poverty and the neglect of her
relations, of surpassing beauty and in the bloom of youth.
Sos. Ah! I’m afraid that this Andrian will bring some mischief.
Sim. At first, in a modest way, she passed her life with thriftiness and in
hardship, seeking a livelihood with her wool and loom. But after an admirer
made advances, promising her a recompense, first one and then another; as
the disposition of all mankind has a downward tendency from industry
toward pleasure, she accepted their proposals, and then began to trade upon
her beauty. Those who then were her admirers, by chance, as it often
happens, took my son thither that he might be in their company. Forthwith I
said to myself, “He is surely caught; he is smitten.”33 In the morning I used
to observe their servant-boys coming or going away; I used to make inquiry,
“Here, my lad, tell me, will you, who had Chrysis yesterday?” for that was
the name of the Andrian (touching Sosia on the arm).
Sos. I understand.
Sim. Phædrus, or Clinias, or Niceratus, they used to say; for these three then
loved her at the same time. “Well now, what did Pamphilus do?” “What?
He gave his contribution;34 he took part in the dinner.” Just so on another
day I made inquiry, but I discovered nothing whatever that affected
Pamphilus. In fact, I thought him sufficiently proved, and a great pattern of
continence; for he who is brought into contact with dispositions of that sort,
and his feelings are not aroused even under such circumstances, you may be
sure that he is already capable of undertaking the governance of his own
life. This pleased me, and every body with one voice began to say all kinds
of flattering things, and to extol my good fortune, in having a son endowed
with such a disposition. What need is there of talking? Chremes, influenced
by this report, came to me of his own accord, to offer his only daughter as a

wife to my son, with a very large portion. It pleased me; I betrothed him;
this was the day appointed for the nuptials.
Sos. What then stands in the way? Why should they not take place?
Sim. You shall hear. In about a few days after these things had been agreed
on, Chrysis, this neighbor, dies.
Sos. Bravo! You’ve made me happy. I was afraid for him on account of
Chrysis.
Sim. Then my son was often there, with those who had admired Chrysis;
with them he took charge of the funeral; sorrowful, in the mean time, he
sometimes wept with them in condolence. Then that pleased me. Thus I
reflected: “He by reason of this slight intimacy takes her death so much to
heart; what if he himself had wooed her? What will he do for me his
father?” All these things I took to be the duties of a humane disposition and
of tender feelings. Why do I detain you with many words? Even I myself,35
for his sake, went forth to the funeral, as yet suspecting no harm.
Sos. Ha! what is this?
Sim. You shall know. She is brought out; we proceed. In the mean time,
among the females who were there present, I saw by chance one young
woman of beauteous form.
Sos. Very likely.
Sim. And of countenance, Sosia, so modest, so charming, that nothing could
surpass. As she appeared to me to lament beyond the rest, and as she was of
a figure handsome and genteel beyond the other women, I approached the
female attendants;36 I inquired who she was. They said that she was the
sister of Chrysis. It instantly struck my mind: “Ay, ay, this is it; hence those
tears, hence that sympathy.”
Sos. How I dread what you are coming to!
Sim. The funeral procession meanwhile advances; we follow; we come to
the burying-place.37 She is placed upon the pile; they weep. In the mean
time, this sister, whom I mentioned, approached the flames too incautiously,
with considerable danger. There, at that moment, Pamphilus, in his extreme

alarm, discovers his well-dissembled and long-hidden passion; he runs up,
clasps the damsel by the waist. “My Glycerium,” says he, “what are you
doing? Why are you going to destroy yourself?” Then she, so that you
might easily recognize their habitual attachment, weeping, threw herself
back upon him—how affectionately!
Sos. What do you say?
Sim. I returned thence in anger, and hurt at heart: and yet there was not
sufficient ground for reproving him. He might say; “What have I done?
How have I deserved this, or offended, father? She who wished to throw
herself into the flames, I prevented; I saved her.” The defense is a
reasonable one.
Sos. You judge aright; for if you censure him who has assisted to preserve
life, what are you to do to him who causes loss or misfortune to it?
Sim. Chremes comes to me next day, exclaiming: “Disgraceful conduct!”—
that he had ascertained that Pamphilus was keeping this foreign woman as a
wife. I steadfastly denied that to be the fact. He insisted that it was the fact.
In short, I then left him refusing to bestow his daughter.
Sos. Did not you then reprove your son?
Sim. Not even this was a cause sufficiently strong for censuring him.
Sos. How so? Tell me.
Sim. “You yourself, father,” he might say, “have prescribed a limit to these
proceedings. The time is near, when I must live according to the humor of
another; meanwhile, for the present allow me to live according to my own.”
Sos. What room for reproving him, then, is there left?
Sim. If on account of his amour he shall decline to take a wife, that, in the
first place, is an offense on his part to be censured. And now for this am I
using my endeavors, that, by means of the pretended marriage, there may be
real ground for rebuking him, if he should refuse; at the same time, that if
that rascal Davus has any scheme, he may exhaust it now, while his
knaveries can do no harm: who, I do believe, with hands, feet, and all his

might, will do every thing; and more for this, no doubt, that he may do me
an ill turn, than to oblige my son.
Sos. For what reason?
Sim. Do you ask? Bad heart, bad disposition. Whom, however, if I do detect
—But what need is there of talking? If it should turn out, as I wish, that
there is no delay on the part of Pamphilus, Chremes remains to be prevailed
upon by me; and I do hope that all will go well. Now it’s your duty to
pretend these nuptials cleverly, to terrify Davus; and watch my son, what
he’s about, what schemes he is planning with him.
Sos. ’Tis enough; I’ll take care; now let’s go in-doors.
Sim. You go first; I’ll follow.
( Sosia goes into the house of Simo.)
Sim. (to himself.) There’s no doubt but that my son doesn’t wish for a wife;
so alarmed did I perceive Davus to be just now, when he heard that there
was going to be a marriage. But the very man is coming out of the house.
( Stands aside.)

Scene II.

Enter Davus from the house of Simo.
Dav. (aloud to himself.) I was wondering if this matter was to go off thus;
and was continually dreading where my master’s good humor would end;
for, after he had heard that a wife would not be given to his son, he never
uttered a word to any one of us, or took it amiss.
Sim. (apart, overhearing him.) But now he’ll do so: and that, I fancy, not
without heavy cost to you.
Dav. (to himself.) He meant this, that we, thus unsuspecting, should be led
away by delusive joy; that now in hope, all fear being removed, we might
during our supineness be surprised, so that there might be no time for
planning a rupture of the marriage. How clever!

Sim. (apart.) The villain! what does he say?
Dav. (overhearing him, to himself.) It’s my master, and I didn’t see him.
Sim. Davus.
Dav. Well, what is it?
Sim. Just step this way to me.
Dav. (to himself.) What does he want?
Sim. What are you saying?
Dav. About what?
Sim. Do you ask the question? There’s a report that my son’s in love.
Dav. The public troubles itself about that,38 of course.
Sim. Will you attend to this, or not?
Dav. Certainly, I will, to that.
Sim. But for me to inquire now into these matters, were the part of a severe
father. For what he has done hitherto, doesn’t concern me at all. So long as
his time of life prompted to that course, I allowed him to indulge his
inclination: now this day brings on another mode of life, demands other
habits. From this time forward, I do request, or if it is reasonable, I do
entreat you, Davus, that he may now return to the right path.
Dav. (aside.) What can this mean?
Sim. All who are intriguing take it ill to have a wife given them.
Dav. So they say.
Sim. And if any one has adopted a bad instructor in that course, he generally
urges the enfeebled mind to pursuits still more unbecoming.
Dav. I’faith, I do not comprehend.
Sim. No? Ha——
Dav. No—I am Davus, not Œdipus.39

Sim. Of course then, you wish me to speak plainly in what further I have to
say.
Dav. Certainly, by all means.
Sim. If I this day find out that you are attempting any trickery about this
marriage, to the end that it may not take place; or are desirous that in this
matter it should be proved how knowing you are; I’ll hand you over, Davus,
beaten with stripes, to the mill,40 even to your dying day, upon this
condition and pledge, that if ever I release you, I shall grind in your place.
Now, do you understand this? Or not yet even this?
Dav. Yes, perfectly: you have now spoken so plainly upon the subject, you
have not used the least circumlocution.
Sim. In any thing would I more willingly allow myself to be imposed upon
than in this matter.
Dav. Fair words, I entreat.
Sim. You are ridiculing me: you don’t at all deceive me. I give you warning,
don’t act rashly, and don’t say you were not warned. Take care.
( Shaking his stick, goes into the house.)

Scene III.

Davus alone.
Dav. (to himself.) Assuredly, Davus, there’s no room for slothfulness or
inactivity, so far as I’ve just now ascertained the old man’s mind about the
marriage; which if it is not provided against by cunning, will be bringing
either myself or my master to ruin. What to do, I am not determined;
whether I should assist Pamphilus or obey the old man. If I desert the
former, I fear for his life; if I assist him, I dread the other’s threats, on
whom it will be a difficult matter to impose. In the first place, he has now
found out about this amour; with hostile feelings he watches me, lest I
should be devising some trickery against the marriage. If he discovers it,
I’m undone; or even if he chooses to allege any pretext, whether rightfully

or wrongfully, he will consign me headlong to the mill. To these evils this
one is besides added for me. This Andrian, whether she is his wife, or
whether his mistress, is pregnant by Pamphilus. It is worth while to hear
their effrontery; for it is an undertaking worthy of those in their dotage, not
of those who dote in love;41 whatever she shall bring forth, they have
resolved to rear;42 and they are now contriving among themselves a certain
scheme, that she is a citizen of Attica. There was formerly a certain old man
of this place, a merchant; he was shipwrecked off the Isle of Andros; he
died. They say that there, the father of Chrysis, on that occasion, sheltered
this girl, thrown on shore, an orphan, a little child. What nonsense! To
myself at least it isn’t very probable; the fiction pleases them, however. But
Mysis is coming out of the house. Now I’ll betake myself hence to the
Forum,43 that I may meet with Pamphilus, lest his father should take him by
surprise about this matter.
( Exit.)

Scene IV.

Enter Mysis from the house of Glycerium.
Mys. (speaking at the door to Archylis within.) I’ve heard you already,
Archylis; you request Lesbia to be fetched. Really, upon my faith, she is a
wine-bibbing44 and a rash woman, and not sufficiently trustworthy for you
to commit to her care a female at her first delivery; is she still to be
brought? (She receives an answer from within, and comes forward.) Do
look at the inconsiderateness of the old woman; because she is her pot-
companion. Ye Gods, I do entreat you, give her ease in her delivery, and to
that woman an opportunity of making her mistakes elsewhere in preference.
But why do I see Pamphilus so out of spirits? I fear what it may be. I’ll
wait, that I may know whether this sorrow portends any disaster.
( Stands apart.)

Scene V.

Enter Pamphilus, wringing his hands.
Pam. (to himself.) Is it humane to do or to devise this? Is this the duty of a
father?
Mys. (apart.) What does this mean?
Pam. (to himself.) O, by our faith in the Gods! what is, if this is not, an
indignity? He had resolved that he himself would give me a wife to-day;
ought I not to have known this beforehand? Ought it not to have been
mentioned previously?
Mys. (apart.) Wretched me! What language do I hear?
Pam. (to himself.) What does Chremes do? He who had declared that he
would not intrust his daughter to me as a wife; because he himself sees me
unchanged he has changed. Thus perversely does he lend his aid, that he
may withdraw wretched me from Glycerium. If this is effected, I am utterly
undone. That any man should be so unhappy in love, or so unfortunate as I
am! Oh, faith of Gods and men! shall I by no device be able to escape this
alliance with Chremes? In how many ways am I contemned, and held in
scorn? Every thing done, and concluded! Alas! once rejected I am sought
again; for what reason? Unless perhaps it is this, which I suspect it is: they
are rearing some monster,45 and as she can not be pushed off upon any one
else, they have recourse to me.
Mys. (apart.) This language has terrified wretched me with apprehension.
Pam. (to himself.) But what am I to say about my father? Alas! that he
should so thoughtlessly conclude an affair of such importance! Passing me
in the Forum just now, he said, “Pamphilus, you must be married to-day:
get ready; be off home.” He seemed to me to say this: “Be off this instant,
and go hang yourself.” I was amazed; think you that I was able to utter a
single word, or any excuse, even a frivolous, false, or lame one? I was
speechless. But if any one were to ask me now what I would have done, if I
had known this sooner, why, I would have done any thing rather than do
this. But now, what course shall I first adopt? So many cares beset me,
which rend my mind to pieces; love, sympathy for her, the worry of this
marriage; then, respect for my father, who has ever, until now, with such an

indulgent disposition, allowed me to do whatever was agreeable to my
feelings. Ought I to oppose him? Ah me! I am in uncertainty what to do.
Mys. (apart.) I’m wretchedly afraid how this uncertainty is to terminate.
But now there’s an absolute necessity, either for him to speak to her, or for
me to speak to him about her. While the mind is in suspense, it is swayed by
a slight impulse one way or the other.
Pam. (overhearing her.) Who is it speaking here? (Seeing her.) Mysis?
Good-morrow to you.
Mys. Oh! Good-morrow to you, Pamphilus.
Pam. How is she?
Mys. Do you ask? She is oppressed with grief,46 and on this account the
poor thing is anxious, because some time ago the marriage was arranged for
this day. Then, too, she fears this, that you may forsake her.
Pam. Ha! could I attempt that? Could I suffer her, poor thing, to be deceived
on my account? She, who has confided to me her affection, and her entire
existence? She, whom I have held especially dear to my feelings as my
wife? Shall I suffer her mind, well and chastely trained and tutored, to be
overcome by poverty and corrupted? I will not do it.
Mys. I should have no fear if it rested with yourself alone; but whether you
may be able to withstand compulsion—
Pam. Do you deem me so cowardly, so utterly ungrateful, inhuman, and so
brutish, that neither intimacy, nor affection, nor shame, can move or
admonish me to keep faith?
Mys. This one thing I know, that she is deserving that you should not forget
her.
Pam. Forget her? Oh Mysis, Mysis, at this moment are those words of
Chrysis concerning Glycerium written on my mind. Now at the point of
death, she called me; I went to her; you had withdrawn; we were alone; she
began: “My dear Pamphilus, you see her beauty and her youth; and it is not
unknown to you to what extent both of these are now of use to her, in
protecting both her chastity and her interests. By this right hand I do entreat

you, and by your good Genius,47 by your own fidelity, and by her bereft
condition, do not withdraw yourself from her, or forsake her; if I have loved
you as my own brother, or if she has always prized you above all others, or
has been obedient to you in all things. You do I give to her as a husband,
friend, protector, father. This property of mine do I intrust to you, and
commit to your care.” She placed her in my hands; that instant, death came
upon her. I accepted her; having accepted, I will protect her.
Mys. So indeed I hope. (Moving.)
Pam. But why are you leaving her?
Mys. I’m going to fetch the midwife.48
Pam. Make all haste. And—do you hear?—take care, and not one word
about the marriage, lest that too should add to her illness.
Mys. I understand.
( Exeunt severally.)

ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.

Enter Charinus and Byrrhia.49
Char. How say you, Byrrhia? Is she to be given in marriage to Pamphilus
to-day?
Byr. It is so.
Char. How do you know?
Byr. I heard it just now from Davus at the Forum.
Char. Woe unto wretched me! As, hitherto, until now, my mind has been
racked amid hope and fear; so, since hope has been withdrawn, wearied
with care, it sinks overwhelmed.

Byr. By my troth, Charinus, since that which you wish can not come to
pass, prithee, do wish that which can.
Char. I wish for nothing else but Philumena.
Byr. Alas! How much better were it for you to endeavor to expel that
passion from your mind, than to be saying that by which your desire is to no
purpose still more inflamed.
Char. We all, when we are well, with ease give good advice to the sick. If
you were in my situation, you would think otherwise.
Byr. Well, well, just as you like.
Char. (looking down the side scene.) But I see Pamphilus; I’m determined
I’ll try every thing before I despair.
Byr. (aside) What does he mean?
Char. I will entreat his own self; I will supplicate him; I will disclose to
him my love. I think that I shall prevail upon him to put off the marriage for
some days at least; in the mean time, something will turn up, I trust.
Byr. That something is nothing.
Char. Byrrhia, how seems it to you? Shall I accost him?
Byr. Why not? Should you not prevail, that at least he may look upon you
as a gallant ready provided for him, if he marries her.
Char. Away with you to perdition with that vile suggestion, you rascal!

Scene II.

Enter Pamphilus.
Pam. I espy Charinus. (Accosting him.) Good-morrow!
Char. O, good-morrow. Pamphilus, I’m come to you, seeking hope, safety,
counsel, and assistance.
Pam. I’faith, I have neither time for counsel, nor resources for assistance.
But what’s the matter now?

Char. To-day you are going to take a wife?
Pam. So they say.
Char. Pamphilus, if you do that, you behold me this day for the last time.
Pam. Why so?
Char. Ah me! I dread to tell it; prithee, do you tell it, Bvrrhia.
Byr. I’ll tell it.
Pam. What is it?
Byr. He’s in love with your betrothed.
Pam. Assuredly he’s not of my way of thinking. Come now, tell me, have
you had any more to do with her, Charinus?
Char. Oh Pamphilus, nothing.
Pam. How much I wish you had.
Char. Now, by our friendship and by my affection, I do beseech you, in the
first place, not to marry her.
Pam. For my own part I’ll use my endeavors.
Char. But if that can not be, or if this marriage is agreeable to you—
Pam. Agreeable to me?
Char. Put it off for some days at least, while I go elsewhere, that I may not
be witness.
Pam. Now listen, once for all: I think it, Charinus, to be by no means the
part of an ingenuous man, when he confers nothing, to expect that it should
be considered as an obligation on his part. I am more desirous to avoid this
match, than you to gain it.
Char. You have restored me to life.
Pam. Now, if you can do any thing, either you yourself, or Byrrhia here,
manage, fabricate, invent, contrive some means, whereby she may be given
to you; this I shall aim at, how she may not be given to me.
Char. I am satisfied.

Pam. Most opportunely I perceive Davus, on whose advice I have
depended.
Char. (turning to Byrrhia.) But you, i’faith, tell me nothing,50 except those
things which there is no need for knowing. (Pushing him away.) Get you
gone from here.
Byr. Certainly I will, and with all my heart.
( Exit.)

Scene III.

Enter Davus in haste.
Dav. (not seeing Pamphilus and Charinus.) Ye gracious Gods, what good
news I bring! But where shall I find Pamphilus, that I may remove the
apprehension in which he now is, and fill his mind with joy—?
Char. (apart to Pamphilus.) He’s rejoiced about something, I don’t know
what.
Pam. (apart.) It’s of no consequence; he hasn’t yet heard of these
misfortunes.
Dav. (to himself.) For I do believe now, if he has already heard that a
marriage is prepared for him—
Char. (apart.) Don’t you hear him?
Dav. (to himself.) He is seeking me distractedly all the city over. But where
shall I look for him? Or in which direction now first to betake me—
Char. (apart to Pamphilus.) Do you hesitate to accost him?
Dav. (to himself.) I have it. (Moving on.)
Pam. Davus, come here! Stop!
Dav. Who’s the person that’s—(Turning round.) O Pamphilus, you are the
very man I’m looking for. Well done, Charinus! both in the nick of time:
I want you both.

Char. Davus, I’m undone!
Dav. Nay but, do hear this.
Pam. I’m utterly ruined!
Dav. I know what you are afraid of.
Char. I’faith, my life indeed is really in danger.
Dav. (to Charinus.) And what you are afraid of, I know.
Pam. My marriage—
Dav. As if I did not know it?
Pam. This day—
Dav. Why keep dinning me with it, when I know it all? (To Pamphilus.) This
are you afraid of, lest you should marry her; and you (to Charinus,) lest you
should not marry her.
Char. You understand the matter.
Pam. That’s the very thing.
Dav. And that very thing is in no danger; trust me for that.
Pam. I do entreat you, release wretched me as soon as possible from this
apprehension.
Dav. Well, then, I will release you; Chremes is not going to give you his
daughter at present.
Pam. How do you know?
Dav. You shall know. Your father just now laid hold of me; he said that a
wife was to be given you to-day, and many other things as well, which just
now I haven’t time to relate. Hastening to you immediately, I ran on to the
Forum that I might tell you these things. When I didn’t find you, I ascended
there to a high place.51 I looked around; you were nowhere. There by
chance I saw Byrrhia, his servant (pointing to Charinus). I inquired of him;
he said he hadn’t seen you. This puzzled me. I considered what I was to do.
As I was returning in the mean time, a surmise from the circumstances
themselves occurred to me: “How now,—a very small amount of good

cheer; he out of spirits; a marriage all of a sudden; these things don’t
agree.”
Pam. But to what purpose this?
Dav. I forthwith betook myself to the house of Chremes. When I arrived
there—stillness before the door;52 then I was pleased at that.
Char. You say well.
Pam. Proceed.
Dav. I stopped there. In the mean time I saw no one going in, no one going
out; no matron at the house,53 no preparation, no bustle. I drew near; looked
in—
Pam. I understand; a considerable indication.
Dav. Do these things seem to accord with a wedding?
Pam. I think not, Davus.
Dav. Think, do you say? You don’t view it rightly; the thing is certain.
Besides, coming away from there I saw the servant-boy of Chremes
carrying some vegetables and little fishes, an obol’s worth,54 for the old
man’s dinner.
Char. This day, Davus, have I been delivered by your means.
Dav. And yet not at all.
Char. Why so? Surely he will not give her to him, after all this. (Pointing to
Pamphilus.)
Dav. You silly fellow! as though it were a necessary consequence that if he
doesn’t give her to him you should marry her: unless, indeed, you look
about you; unless you entreat and make court to the old man’s friends.
Char. You advise well. I’ll go; although, upon my faith, this hope has often
eluded me already. Farewell!
( Exit.)

Scene IV.

Pamphilus and Davus.
Pam. What then does my father mean? Why does he thus make pretense?
Dav. I’ll tell you. If now he were angry with you, because Chremes will not
give you a wife, he would seem to himself to be unjust, and that not without
reason, before he has ascertained your feelings as to the marriage, how they
are disposed. But if you refuse to marry her, in that case he will transfer the
blame to you; then such disturbances will arise.
Pam. I will submit to any thing from him.
Dav. He is your father, Pamphilus. It is a difficult matter. Besides, this
woman is defenseless. No sooner said than done; he will find some pretext
for driving her away from the city.
Pam. Driving her away?
Dav. Aye, and quickly too.
Pam. Tell me then, Davus, what am I to do?
Dav. Say that you will marry her.
Pam. (starting.) Ha!
Dav. What’s the matter?
Pam. What, am I to say so?
Dav. Why not?
Pam. Never will I do it.
Dav. Don’t say so.
Pam. Don’t attempt to persuade me.
Dav. Consider what will be the result of it.
Pam. That I shall be deprived of the one, and fixed with the other.
Dav. Not so. In fact, I think it will be thus: Your father will say: “I wish you
to marry a wife to-day.” You reply: “I’ll marry her.” Tell me, how can he

raise a quarrel with you? Thus you will cause all the plans which are now
arranged by him to be disarranged, without any danger; for this is not to be
doubted, that Chremes will not give you his daughter. Therefore do not
hesitate in those measures which you are taking, on this account, lest he
should change his sentiments. Tell your father that you consent; so that
although he may desire it, he may not be able to be angry at you with
reason. For that which you rely on, I will easily refute; “No one,” you think,
“will give a wife to a person of these habits.” But he will find a beggar for
you, rather than allow you to be corrupted by a mistress. If, however, he
shall believe that you bear it with a contented mind, you will render him
indifferent; at his leisure he will look out for another wife for you; in the
mean time something lucky may turn up.
Pam. Do you think so?
Dav. It really is not a matter of doubt.
Pam. Consider to what you are persuading me.
Dav. Nay, but do be quiet.
Pam. Well, I’ll say it; but, that he mayn’t come to know that she has had a
child by me, is a thing to be guarded against; for I have promised to bring it
up.
Dav. Oh, piece of effrontery.
Pam. She entreated me that I would give her this pledge, by which she
might be sure she should not be deserted.
Dav. It shall be attended to; but your father’s coming. Take care that he
doesn’t perceive that you are out of spirits.

Scene V.

Enter Simo, at a distance.
Sim. (apart to himself.) I’ve come back to see what they are about, or what
scheme they are hatching.

Dav. (to Pamphilus.) He has no doubt at present but that you’ll refuse to
marry. Having considered his course, he’s come from a retired spot
somewhere or other; he hopes that he has framed a speech by which to
disconcert you; do you take care, then, to be yourself.
Pam. If I am only able, Davus.
Dav. Trust me for that, Pamphilus, I tell you; your father will never this day
exchange a single word with you, if you say that you will 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 him55
(pointing to Simo) as he came hither. Himself, as well, I see standing with
Davus close at hand; I’ll note this.
Sim. (apart to himself.) I see that both of them are here.
Dav. (in a low voice to Pamphilus.) Now then, be on your guard.
Sim. Pamphilus!
Dav. (in a low voice.) Look round at him as though taken unawares.
Pam. (turning round sharply.) What, my father!
Dav. (in a low voice.) Capital!
Sim. I wish you to marry a wife to-day, as I was saying.
Byr. (apart.) Now I’m in dread for our side, as to what he will answer.
Pam. Neither in that nor in any thing else shall you ever find any hesitation
in me.
Byr. (apart.) Hah!
Dav. (in a low voice to Pamphilus.) He is struck dumb.

Byr. (apart.) What a speech!
Sim. You act as becomes you, when that which I ask I obtain with a good
grace.
Dav. (aside to Pamphilus.) Am I right?
Byr. My master, so far as I learn, has missed his wife.
Sim. Now, then, go in-doors, that you mayn’t be causing delay when you are
wanted.
Pam. I’ll go.
( Goes into the house.)
Byr. (apart.) Is there, in no case, putting trust in any man? That is a true
proverb which is wont to be commonly quoted, that “all had rather it to be
well for themselves than for another.” I remember noticing, when I saw her,
that she was a young woman of handsome figure; wherefore I am the more
disposed to excuse Pamphilus, if he has preferred that he himself, rather
than the other, should embrace her in his slumbers. I’ll carry back these
tidings, that, in return for this evil he may inflict evil upon me.56
( Exit.)

Scene VII.

Simo and Davus.
Dav. (aside, coming away from the door of the house.) He now supposes
that I’m bringing some trick to bear against him, and that on that account
I’ve remained here.
Sim. What does he say, Davus?57
Dav. Just as much as nothing.58
Sim. What, nothing? Eh?
Dav. Nothing at all.
Sim. And yet I certainly was expecting something.

Dav. It has turned out contrary to your expectations. (Aside.) I perceive it;
this vexes the man.
Sim. Are you able to tell me the truth?
Dav. I? Nothing more easy.
Sim. Is this marriage at all disagreeable to him, on account of his intimacy
with this foreign woman?
Dav. No, faith; or if at all, it is a two or three days’ annoyance this—you
understand. It will then cease. Moreover, he himself has thought over this
matter in a proper way.
Sim. I commend him.
Dav. While it was allowed him, and while his years prompted him, he
intrigued; even then it was secretly. He took precaution that that
circumstance should never be a cause of disgrace to him, as behooves a
man of principle; now that he must have a wife, he has set his mind upon a
wife.
Sim. He seemed to me to be somewhat melancholy in a slight degree.
Dav. Not at all on account of her, but there’s something he blames you for.
Sim. What is it, pray?
Dav. It’s a childish thing.
Sim. What is it?
Dav. Nothing at all.
Sim. Nay but, tell me what it is.
Dav. He says that you are making too sparing preparations.
Sim. What, I?
Dav. You.—He says that there has hardly been fare provided to the amount
of ten drachmæ.59—“Does he seem to be bestowing a wife on his son?
Which one now, in preference, of my companions shall I invite to the
dinner?” And, it must be owned, you really are providing too
parsimoniously—I do not commend you.

Sim. Hold your tongue.
Dav. (aside.) I’ve touched him up.
Sim. I’ll see that these things are properly done. (Davus goes into the
house.) What’s the meaning of this? What does this old rogue mean? But if
there’s any knavery here, why, he’s sure to be the source of the mischief.
( Goes into his house.)

ACT THE THIRD.
Scene I.

Enter Simo and Davus from the house of the former. Mysis and Lesbia are
coming toward the house of Glycerium.
Mys. (not seeing Simo and Davus.) Upon my faith, the fact is really as you
mentioned, Lesbia, you can hardly find a man constant to a woman.
Sim. (apart to Davus.) This maid-servant comes from the Andrian.
Dav. (apart to Simo.) What do you say?
Sim. (apart to Davus.) It is so.
Mys. But this Pamphilas——
Sim. (apart to Davus.) What is she saying?
Mys. Has proved his constancy.
Sim. (apart.) Hah!
Dav. (apart to himself.) I wish that either he were deaf, or she struck dumb.
Mys. For the child she brings forth, he has ordered to be brought up.
Sim. (apart.) O Jupiter! What do I hear! It’s all over, if indeed this woman
speaks the truth.

Les. You mention a good disposition on the part of the young man.
Mys. A most excellent one. But follow me in-doors, that you mayn’t keep
her waiting.
Les. I’ll follow.
( Mysis and Lesbia go into Glycerium’s house.)

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? Now I understand; ah! scarcely even at last, in my
stupidity, have I found it out.
Dav. (aside to himself.) What does he say he has found out?
Sim. (aside.) This piece of knavery is being now for the first time palmed
upon me by this fellow; they are pretending that she’s in labor, in order that
they may alarm Chremes.
Gly. (exclaiming from within her house.) Juno Lucina,60 grant me thine aid,
save me, I do entreat thee!
Sim. Whew! so sudden? What nonsense! As soon as she has heard that I’m
standing before the door, she makes all haste. These incidents, Davus, have
not been quite happily adapted by you as to the points of time.
Dav. By me?
Sim. Are your scholars forgetful?61
Dav. I don’t know what you are talking about.
Sim. (aside.) If he at the real marriage of my son had taken me off my guard,
what sport he would have made of me. Now it is at his own risk; I’m sailing
in harbor.

Scene III.

Re-enter Lesbia from the house of Glycerium.
Les. (speaking to Archylis at the door, and not seeing Simo and Davus.) As
yet, Archylis, all the customary symptoms which ought to exist toward
recovery, I perceive in her. Now, in the first place, take care and let her
bathe;62 then, after that, what I ordered to be given her to drink, and as
much as I prescribed, do you administer: presently I will return hither. (To
herself aloud.) By all that’s holy, a fine boy has been born to Pamphilus.
I pray the Gods that he may survive, since the father himself is of a good
disposition, and since he has hesitated to do an injustice to this most
excellent young woman.
( Exit.)

Scene IV.

Simo and Davus.
Sim. Even this, who is there that knows you that would not believe that it
originated in you?
Dav. Why, what is this?
Sim. She didn’t order in their presence what was requisite to be done for the
woman lying in; but after she has come out, she bawls from the street to
those who are in the house. O Davus, am I thus trifled with by you? Or
pray, do I seem to you so very well suited to be thus openly imposed upon
by your tricks? At all events it should have been with precaution; that at
least I might have seemed to be feared if I should detect it.
Dav. (aside.) Assuredly, upon my faith, it’s he that’s now deceiving himself,
not I.
Sim. I gave you warning, I forbade you with threats to do it. Have you been
awed? What has it availed? Am I to believe you now in this, that this
woman has had a child by Pamphilus?

Dav. (aside.) I understand where he’s mistaken; and I see what I must do.
Sim. Why are you silent?
Dav. What would you believe? As though word had not been brought you
that thus it would happen.
Sim. Any word brought to me?
Dav. Come now, did you of your own accord perceive that this was
counterfeited?
Sim. I am being trifled with.
Dav. Word has been brought you; for otherwise how could this suspicion
have occurred to you?
Sim. How? Because I knew you.
Dav. As though you meant to say that this has been done by my
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 know you!
Dav. But if I begin to tell you any thing, at once you think that deceit is
being practiced upon you in guile; therefore, upon my faith, I don’t dare
now even to whisper.
Sim. This one thing I am sure of, that no person has been delivered here.
(Pointing to Glycerium’s house.)
Dav. You have discovered that? Still, not a bit the less will they presently be
laying the child63 here before the door. Of this, then, I now warn you,
master, that it will happen, that you may be aware of it. Don’t you hereafter
be saying that this was done through the advice or artifices of Davus. I wish
this suspicion of yours to be entirely removed from myself.
Sim. How do you know that?

Dav. I’ve heard so, and I believe it: many things combine for me to form
this conjecture. In the first place then, she declared that she was pregnant by
Pamphilus; that has been proved to be false.64 Now, when she sees that
preparations are being made for the wedding at our house, the maid-servant
is directly sent to fetch the midwife to her, and to bring a child at the same
time.65 Unless it is managed for you to see the child, the marriage will not
be at all impeded.
Sim. What do you say to this? When you perceived that they were adopting
this plan, why didn’t you tell Pamphilus immediately?
Dav. Why, who has induced him to leave her, but myself? For, indeed, we
all know how desperately he loved her. Now he wishes for a wife. In fine,
do you intrust me with that affair; proceed however, as before, to celebrate
these nuptials, just as you are doing, and I trust that the Gods will prosper
this matter.
Sim. Very well; be off in-doors; wait for me there, and get ready what’s
necessary to be prepared. (Davus goes into the house.) He hasn’t prevailed
upon me even now altogether to believe these things, and I don’t know
whether what he has said is all true; but I deem it of little moment; this is of
far greater importance to me—that my son himself has promised me. Now
I’ll go and find Chremes; I’ll ask him for a wife for my son; if I obtain my
request, at what other time rather than to-day should I prefer these nuptials
taking place? For as my son has promised, I have no doubt but that if he
should prove unwilling, I can fairly compel him. And look! here’s Chremes
himself, just at the very time.

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 persons have been to
me, to say that they had heard from you, that my daughter was to be
married to your son to-day; I’ve come to see whether they are out of their
senses or you.
Sim. Listen; in a few words you shall learn both what I want of you, and
what you seek to know.
Chrem. I am listening; say what you wish.
Sim. By the Gods, I do entreat you, Chremes, and by our friendship, which,
commencing with our infancy, has grown up with our years, and by your
only daughter and by my own son (of preserving whom the entire power
lies with you), that you will assist me in this matter; and that, just as this
marriage was about to be celebrated, it may be celebrated.
Chrem. O, don’t importune me; as though you needed to obtain this of me
by entreaty. Do you suppose I am different now from what I was formerly,
when I promised her? If it is for the advantage of them both that it should
take place, order her to be sent for. But if from this course there would
result more harm than advantage for each, this I do beg of you, that you will
consult for their common good, as though she were your own daughter, and
I the father of Pamphilus.
Sim. Nay, so I intend, and so I wish it to be, Chremes; and I would not ask it
of you, did not the occasion itself require it.
Chrem. What is the matter?
Sim. There is a quarrel between Glycerium and my son.
Chrem. (ironically) I hear you.
Sim. So much so, that I’m in hopes they may be separated.
Chrem. Nonsense!
Sim. It really is so.
Chrem. After this fashion, i’faith, I tell you, “the quarrels of lovers are the
renewal of love.”

Sim. Well—this I beg of you, that we may prevent it. While an opportunity
offers, and while his passion is cooled by affronts, before the wiles of these
women and their tears, craftily feigned, bring back his love-sick mind to
compassion, let us give him a wife. I trust, Chremes, that, when attached by
intimacy and a respectable marriage, he will easily extricate himself from
these evils.
Chrem. So it appears to you; but I do not think66 that either he can possibly
hold to her with constancy, or that I can put up with it if he does not.
Sim. How then can you be sure of that, unless you make the experiment?
Chrem. But for that experiment to be made upon a daughter is a serious
thing——
Sim. Why look, all the inconvenience in fine amounts to this—possibly,
which may the Gods forfend, a separation may take place. But if he is
reformed, see how many are the advantages: in the first place, you will have
restored a son to your friend; you will obtain a sure son-in-law67 for
yourself, and a husband for your daughter.
Chrem. What is one to say to all this? If you feel persuaded that this is
beneficial, I don’t wish that any advantage should be denied you.
Sim. With good reason, Chremes, have I always considered you a most
valuable friend.
Chrem. But how say you——?
Sim. What?
Chrem. How do you know that they are now at variance?
Sim. Davus himself, who is privy to all their plans, has told me so; and he
advises me to expedite the match as fast as I can. Do you think he would do
so, unless he was aware that my son desired it? You yourself as well shall
presently hear what he says. (Goes to the door of his house and calls.)
Halloo there! Call Davus out here. Look, here he is; I see him just coming
out.

Scene VI.

Enter Davus from the house.
Dav. I was coming to you.
Sim. Why, what’s the matter?
Dav. Why isn’t the bride sent for?68 It’s now growing late in the day.
Sim. Do you hear me? I’ve been for some time not a little apprehensive of
you, Davus, lest you should do that which the common class of servants is
in the habit of doing, namely, impose upon me by your artifices; because
my son is engaged in an amour.
Dav. What, I do that?
Sim. I fancied so; and therefore, fearing that, I concealed from you what I
shall now mention.
Dav. What?
Sim. You shall know; for now I almost feel confidence in you.
Dav. Have you found out at last what sort of a person I am?
Sim. The marriage was not to have taken place.
Dav. How? Not to have taken place?
Sim. But I was making pretense, that I might test you all.
Dav. (affecting surprise.) What is it you tell me?
Sim. Such is the fact.
Dav. Only see! I was not able to discover that. Dear me! what a cunning
contrivance!
Sim. Listen to this. Just as I ordered you to go from here into the house, he
(pointing to Chremes) most opportunely met me.
Dav. (aside.) Ha! Are we undone, then?
Sim. I told him what you just now told me.

Dav. (aside.) Why, what am I to hear?
Sim. I begged him to give his daughter, and with difficulty I prevailed upon
him.
Dav. (aside.) Utterly ruined!
Sim. (overhearing him speaking.) Eh—What was it you said?
Dav. Extremely well done, I say.
Sim. There’s no delay on his part now.
Chrem. I’ll go home at once; I’ll tell her to make due preparation, and bring
back word here.
( Exit.)
Sim. Now I do entreat you, Davus, since you by yourself have brought about
this marriage for me——
Dav. I myself, indeed!69
Sim. Do your best still to reform my son.
Dav. Troth, I’ll do it with all due care.
Sim. Do it now, while his mind is agitated.
Dav. You may be at ease.
Sim. Come then; where is he just now?
Dav. A wonder if he isn’t at home.
Sim. I’ll go to him; and what I’ve been telling you, I’ll tell him as well.
( Goes into his house.)

Scene VII.

Davus alone.
Dav. (to himself.) I’m a lost man! What reason is there why I shouldn’t take
my departure straightway hence for the mill? There’s no room left for

supplicating; I’ve upset every thing now; I’ve deceived my master; I’ve
plunged my master’s son into a marriage; I’ve been the cause of its taking
place this very day, without his hoping for it, and against the wish of
Pamphilus. Here’s cleverness for you! But, if I had kept myself quiet, no
mischief would have happened. (Starting.) But see, I espy him; I’m utterly
undone! Would that there were some spot here for me, from which I might
this instant pitch myself headlong!
( Stands apart.)

Scene VIII.

Enter Pamphilus in haste from Simo’s house.
Pam. Where is he? The villain, who this day—I’m ruined; and I confess that
this has justly befallen me, for being such a dolt, so devoid of sense; that I
should have intrusted my fortunes to a frivolous slave!70 I am suffering the
reward of my folly; still he shall never get off from me unpunished for this.
Dav. (apart.) I’m quite sure that I shall be safe in future, if for the present I
get clear of this mishap.
Pam. But what now am I to say to my father? Am I to deny that I am ready,
who have just promised to marry? With what effrontery could I presume to
do that? I know not what to do with myself.
Dav. (apart.) Nor I with myself, and yet I’m giving all due attention to it.
I’ll tell him that I will devise something, in order that I may procure some
respite in this dilemma.
Pam. (Catching sight of him.) Oho!
Dav. (apart.) I’m seen.
Pam. (sneeringly.) How now, good sir, what are you about? Do you see how
dreadfully I am hampered by your devices?
Dav. Still, I’ll soon extricate you.
Pam. You, extricate me?

Dav. Assuredly, Pamphilus.
Pam. As you have just done, I suppose.
Dav. Why no, better, I trust.
Pam. What, am I to believe you, you scoundrel?71 You, indeed, make good a
matter that’s all embarrassment and ruin! Just see, in whom I’ve been
placing reliance—you who this day from a most happy state have been and
plunged me into a marriage. Didn’t I say that this would be the case?
Dav. You did say so.
Pam. What do you deserve?72
Dav. The cross.73 But allow me a little time to recover myself; I’ll soon hit
upon something.
Pam. Ah me! not to have the leisure to inflict punishment upon you as I
desire! for the present conjuncture warns me to take precautions for myself,
not to be taking vengeance on you.
( Exeunt.)

ACT THE FOURTH.
Scene I.

Enter Charinus, wringing his hands.
Char. (to himself.) Is this to be believed or spoken of; that malice so great
could be inborn in any one as to exult at misfortunes, and to derive
advantage from the distresses of another! Oh, is this true? Assuredly, that is
the most dangerous class of men, in whom there is only a slight degree of
hesitation at refusing; afterward, when the time arrives for fulfilling their
promises, then, obliged, of necessity they discover themselves. They are
afraid, and yet the circumstances74 compel them to refuse. Then, in that

case, their very insolent remark is, “Who are you? What are you to me?
What should I give up to you what’s my own? Look you, I am the most
concerned in my own interests.”75 But if you inquire where is honor, they
are not ashamed.76 Here, where there is occasion, they are not afraid; there,
where there is no occasion, they are afraid. But what am I to do? Ought I
not to go to him, and reason with him upon this outrage, and heap many an
invective upon him? Yet some one may say, “you will avail nothing.”
Nothing? At least I shall have vexed him, and have given vent to my own
feelings.

Scene II.

Enter Pamphilus and Davus.
Pam. Charinus, unintentionally I have ruined both myself and you, unless
the Gods in some way befriend us.
Char. Unintentionally, is it! An excuse has been discovered at last. You
have broken your word.
Pam. How so, pray?
Char. Do you expect to deceive me a second time by these speeches?
Pam. What does this mean?
Char. Since I told you that I loved her, she has become quite pleasing to
you. Ah wretched me! to have judged of your disposition from my own.
Pam. You are mistaken.
Char. Did this pleasure appear to you not to be quite complete, unless you
tantalized me in my passion, and lured me on by groundless hopes?—You
may take her.
Pam. I, take her? Alas! you know not in what perplexities, to my sorrow,
I am involved, and what vast anxieties this executioner of mine (pointing to
Davus) has contrived for me by his devices.
Char. What is it so wonderful, if he takes example from yourself?

Pam. You would not say that if you understood either myself or my
affection.
Char. I’m quite aware (ironically); you have just now had a dispute with
your father, and he is now angry with you in consequence, and has not been
able to-day to prevail upon you to marry her.
Pam. No, not at all,—as you are not acquainted with my sorrows, these
nuptials were not in preparation for me; and no one was thinking at present
of giving me a wife.
Char. I am aware; you have been influenced by your own inclination.
Pam. Hold; you do not yet know all.
Char. For my part, I certainly do know that you are about to marry her.
Pam. Why are you torturing me to death? Listen to this. He (pointing to
Davus) never ceased to urge me to tell my father that I would marry her; to
advise and persuade me, even until he compelled me.
Char. Who was this person?
Pam. Davus.
Char. Davus! For what reason?
Pam. I don’t know; except that I must have been under the displeasure of
the Gods, for me to have listened to him.
Char. Is this the fact, Davus?
Dav. It is the fact.
Char. (starting.) Ha! What do you say, you villain? Then may the Gods
send you an end worthy of your deeds. Come now, tell me, if all his
enemies had wished him to be plunged into a marriage, what advice but this
could they have given?
Dav. I have been deceived, but I don’t despair.
Char. (ironically.) I’m sure of that.
Dav. This way it has not succeeded; we’ll try another. Unless, perhaps, you
think that because it failed at first, this misfortune can not now possibly be

changed for better luck.
Pam. Certainly not; for I quite believe that if you set about it, you will be
making two marriages for me out of one.
Dav. I owe you this, Pamphilus, in respect of my servitude, to strive with
hands and feet, night and day; to submit to hazard of my life, to serve you.
It is your part, if any thing has fallen out contrary to expectation, to forgive
me. What I was contriving has not succeeded; still, I am using all
endeavors; or, do you yourself devise something better, and dismiss me.
Pam. I wish to; restore me to the position in which you found me.
Dav. I’ll do so.
Pam. But it must be done directly.
Dav. But the door of Glycerium’s house here makes a noise.77
Pam. That’s nothing to you.
Dav. (assuming an attitude of meditation.) I’m in search of—
Pam. (ironically.) Dear me, what, now at last?
Dav. Presently I’ll give you what I’ve hit upon.

Scene III.

Enter Mysis from the house of Glycerium.
Mys. (calling at the door to Glycerium within.) Now, wherever he is, I’ll
take care that your own Pamphilus shall be found for you, and brought to
you by me; do you only, my life, cease to vex yourself.
Pam. Mysis.
Mys. (turning round.) Who is it? Why, Pamphilus, you do present yourself
opportunely to me. My mistress charged me to beg of you, if you love her,
to come to her directly; she says she wishes to see you.
Pam. (aside.) Alas! I am undone; this dilemma grows apace! (To Davus.)
For me and her, unfortunate persons, now to be tortured this way through

your means; for I am sent for, because she has discovered that my marriage
is in preparation.
Char. From which, indeed, how easily a respite could have been obtained,
if he (pointing to Davus) had kept himself quiet.
Dav. (ironically to Charinus.) Do proceed; if he isn’t sufficiently angry of
his own accord, do you irritate him.
Mys. (to Pamphilus.) Aye faith, that is the case; and for that reason, poor
thing, she is now in distress.
Pam. Mysis, I swear by all the Gods that I will never forsake her; not if I
were to know that all men would be my enemies in consequence. Her have I
chosen for mine; she has fallen to my lot; our feelings are congenial;
farewell they, who wish for a separation between us; nothing but Death
separates her from me.
Mys. I begin to revive.
Pam. Not the responses of Apollo are more true than this. If it can possibly
be contrived that my father may not believe that this marriage has been
broken off through me, I could wish it. But if that can not be, I will do that
which is easily effected, for him to believe that through me it has been
caused. What do you think of me?
Char. That you are as unhappy as myself.
Dav. (placing his finger on his forehead.) I’m contriving an expedient.
Char. You are a clever hand; if you do set about any thing.
Dav. Assuredly, I’ll manage this for you.
Pam. There’s need of it now.
Dav. But I’ve got it now.
Char. What is it?
Dav. For him (pointing to Pamphilus) I’ve got it, not for you, don’t mistake.
Char. I’m quite satisfied.
Pam. What will you do? Tell me.

Dav. I’m afraid that this day won’t be long enough for me to execute it, so
don’t suppose that I’ve now got leisure for relating it; do you betake
yourself off at once, for you are a hinderance to me.
Pam. I’ll go and see her.
( Goes into the house of Glycerium.)
Dav. (to Charinus.) What are you going to do? Whither are you going from
here?
Char. Do you wish me to tell you the truth?
Dav. No, not at all; (aside) he’s making the beginning of a long story for
me.
Char. What will become of me?
Dav. Come now, you unreasonable person, are you not satisfied that I give
you a little respite, by putting off his marriage?
Char. But yet, Davus—
Dav. What then?
Char. That I may marry her—
Dav. Absurd.
Char. Be sure to come hither (pointing in the direction of his house) to my
house, if you can effect any thing.
Dav. Why should I come? I can do nothing for you.
Char. But still, if any thing—
Dav. Well, well, I’ll come.
Char. If you can; I shall be at home.
( Exit.)

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 be here this moment, I tell you.
( He goes into the house of Glycerium.)

Scene V.

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

Scene VI.

Enter Davus from the house of Glycerium with the child.
Mys. My good sir, prithee, what is that? Whither are you carrying the child?
Dav. Mysis, I now stand in need of your cunning being brought into play in
this matter, and of your address.
Mys. Why, what are you going to do?
Dav. (holding out the child.) Take it from me directly, and lay it down
before our door.
Mys. Prithee, on the ground?
Dav. (pointing.) Take some sacred herbs78 from the altar here,79 and strew
them under it.

Mys. Why don’t you do it yourself?
Dav. That if perchance I should have to swear to my master that I did not
place it there, I may be enabled to do so with a clear conscience.
Mys. I understand; have these new scruples only just now occurred to you,
pray?
Dav. Bestir yourself quickly, that you may learn what I’m going to do next.
(Mysis lays the child at Simo’s door.) Oh Jupiter!
Mys. (starting up.) What’s the matter?
Dav. The father of the intended bride is coming in the middle of it all. The
plan which I had first purposed I now give up.80
Mys. I don’t understand what you are talking about.
Dav. I’ll pretend too that I’ve come in this direction from the right. Do you
take care to help out the conversation by your words, whenever there’s
necessity.81
Mys. I don’t at all comprehend what you are about; but if there’s any thing
in which you have need of my assistance, as you understand the best, I’ll
stay, that I mayn’t in any way impede your success.
( Davus retires out of sight.)

Scene VII.

Enter Chremes on the other side of the stage, going toward the house of
Simo.
Chrem. (to himself.) After having provided the things necessary for my
daughter’s nuptials, I’m returning, that I may request her to be sent for.
(Seeing the child.) But what’s this? I’faith, it’s a child. (Addressing Mysis.)
Woman, have you laid that here (pointing to the child)?
Mys. (aside, looking out for Davus.) Where is he?
Chrem. Don’t you answer me?

Mys. (looking about, to herself.) He isn’t any where to be seen. Woe to
wretched me! the fellow has left me and is off.
Dav. (coming forward and pretending not to see them.) Ye Gods, by our
trust in you! what a crowd there is in the Forum! What a lot of people are
squabbling there! (Aloud.) Then provisions are so dear. (Aside.) What to say
besides, I don’t know.
( Chremes passes by Mysis, and goes to a distance at the back of
the stage.)
Mys. Pray, why did you leave me here alone?
Dav. (pretending to start on seeing the child.) Ha! what story is this? How
now, Mysis, whence comes this child? Who has brought it here?
Mys. Are you quite right in your senses, to be asking me that?
Dav. Whom, then, ought I to ask, as I don’t see any one else here?
Chrem. (apart to himself.) I wonder whence it has come.
Dav. Are you going to tell me what I ask?
Mys. Pshaw!
Dav. (in a whisper.) Step aside to the right.
( They retire on one side.)
Mys. You are out of your senses; didn’t you your own self?
Dav. (in a low voice.) Take you care not to utter a single word beyond what
I ask you. Why don’t you say aloud whence it comes?
Mys. (in a loud voice.) From our house.
Dav. (affecting indignation.) Heyday, indeed! it really is a wonder if a
woman, who is a courtesan, acts impudently.
Chrem. (apart.) So far as I can learn, this woman belongs to the Andrian.
Dav. Do we seem to you such very suitable persons for you to be playing
tricks with us in this way?
Chrem. (apart.) I came just in time.

Dav. Make haste then, and take the child away from the door here: (in a low
voice) stay there; take care you don’t stir from that spot.
Mys. (aside.) May the Gods confound you! you do so terrify poor me.
Dav. (in a loud voice.) Is it to you I speak or not?
Mys. What is it you want?
Dav. (aloud.) What—do you ask me again? Tell me, whose child have you
been laying here? Let me know.
Mys. Don’t you know?
Dav. (in a low voice.) Have done with what I know; tell me what I ask.
Mys. (aloud.) It belongs to your people.
Dav. (aloud.) Which of our people?
Mys. (aloud.) To Pamphilus.
Dav. (affecting surprise in a loud tone.) How? What—to Pamphilus?
Mys. (aloud.) How now—is it not so?
Chrem. (apart.) With good reason have I always been averse to this match,
it’s clear.
Dav. (calling aloud.) O abominable piece of effrontery!
Mys. Why are you bawling out so?
Dav. (aloud.) What, the very one I saw being carried to your house
yesterday evening?
Mys. O you impudent fellow!
Dav. (aloud.) It’s the truth. I saw Canthara stuffed out beneath her clothes.82
Mys. I’faith, I thank the Gods that several free women were present83 at the
delivery.
Dav. (aloud.) Assuredly she doesn’t know him, on whose account she
resorts to these schemes. Chremes, she fancies, if he sees the child laid
before the door, will not give his daughter; i’faith, he’ll give her all the
sooner,.

Chrem. (apart.) I’faith, he’ll not do so.
Dav. (aloud.) Now therefore, that you may be quite aware, if you don’t take
up the child, I’ll roll it forthwith into the middle of the road; and yourself in
the same place I’ll roll over into the mud.
Mys. Upon my word, man, you are not sober.
Dav. (aloud.) One scheme brings on another. I now hear it whispered about
that she is a citizen of Attica—
Chrem. (apart.) Ha!
Dav. (aloud.) And that, constrained by the laws,84 he will have to take her
as his wife.
Mys. Well now, pray, is she not a citizen?
Chrem. (apart.) I had almost fallen unawares into a comical misfortune.
( Comes forward.)
Dav. Who’s that, speaking? (Pretending to look about.) O Chremes, you
have come in good time. Do listen to this.
Chrem. I have heard it all already.
Dav. Prithee, did you hear it? Here’s villainy for you! she (pointing at
Mysis) ought to be carried off85 hence to the torture forthwith. (To Mysis,
pointing at Chremes.) This is Chremes himself; don’t suppose that you are
trifling with Davus only.
Mys. Wretched me! upon my faith I have told no untruth, my worthy old
gentleman.
Chrem. I know the whole affair. Is Simo within?
Dav. He is.
( Chremes goes into Simo’s house.)

Scene VIII.

Davus and Mysis.

Mys. (Davus attempting to caress her.) Don’t touch me, villain. (Moving
away.) On my word, if I don’t tell Glycerium all this....
Dav. How now, simpleton, don’t you know what has been done?
Mys. How should I know?
Dav. This is the bride’s father. It couldn’t any other way have been managed
that he should know the things that we wanted him to know.
Mys. You should have told me that before.
Dav. Do you suppose that it makes little difference whether you do things
according to impulse, as nature prompts, or from premeditation?

Scene IX.

Enter Crito, looking about him.
Crito (to himself.) It was said that Chrysis used to live in this street, who
preferred to gain wealth here dishonorably to living honestly as a poor
woman in her own country: by her death that property has descended to me
by law.86 But I see some persons of whom to make inquiry. (Accosting
them.) Good-morrow to you.
Mys. Prithee, whom do I see? Isn’t this Crito, the kinsman of Chrysis? It is
he.
Cri. O Mysis, greetings to you.
Mys. Welcome to you, Crito.
Cri. Is Chrysis then——?87 Alas!
Mys. Too truly. She has indeed left us poor creatures quite heart-broken.
Cri. How fare you here, and in what fashion? Pretty well?
Mys. What, we? Just as we can, as they say; since we can’t as we would.
Cri. How is Glycerium? Has she discovered her parents yet?
Mys. I wish she had.

Cri. What, not yet? With no favorable omen did I set out for this place; for,
upon my faith, if I had known that, I never would have moved a foot hither.
She was always said to be, and was looked upon as her sister; what things
were hers she is in possession of; now for me to begin a suit at law here, the
precedents of others warn me, a stranger,88 how easy and profitable a task it
would be for me. At the same time, I suppose that by this she has got some
friend and protector; for she was pretty nearly a grown-up girl when she left
there. They would cry out that I am a sharper; that, a pauper, I’m hunting
after an inheritance; besides, I shouldn’t like to strip the girl herself.
Mys. O most worthy stranger! I’faith, Crito, you still adhere to your good
old-fashioned ways.
Cri. Lead me to her, since I have come hither, that I may see her.
Mys. By all means.
( They go into the house of Glycerium.)
Dav. (to himself.) I’ll follow them; I don’t wish the old man to see me at
this moment.
( He follows Mysis and Crito.)

ACT THE FIFTH.
Scene I.

Enter Chremes and Simo from the house of Simo.
Chrem. Enough already, enough, Simo, has my friendship toward you been
proved. Sufficient hazard have I begun to encounter; make an end of your
entreaties, then. While I’ve been endeavoring to oblige you, I’ve almost
fooled away my daughter’s prospects in life.
Sim. Nay but, now in especial, Chremes, I do beg and entreat of you, that
the favor, commenced a short time since in words, you’ll now complete by

deeds.
Chrem. See how unreasonable you are from your very earnestness; so long
as you effect what you desire, you neither think of limits to compliance, nor
what it is you request of me; for if you did think, you would now forbear to
trouble me with unreasonable requests.
Sim. What unreasonable requests?
Chrem. Do you ask? You importuned me to promise my daughter to a
young man engaged in another attachment, averse to the marriage state, to
plunge her into discord and a marriage of uncertain duration; that through
her sorrow and her anguish I might reclaim your son. You prevailed; while
the case admitted of it I made preparations. Now it does not admit of it; you
must put up with it; they say that she is a citizen of this place; a child has
been born; do cease to trouble us.
Sim. By the Gods, I do conjure you not to bring your mind to believe those
whose especial interest it is that he should be as degraded as possible. On
account of the marriage, have all these things been feigned and contrived.
When the reason for which they do these things is removed from them, they
will desist.
Chrem. You are mistaken: I myself saw the servant-maid wrangling with
Davus.
Sim. (sneeringly.) I am aware.
Chrem. With an appearance of earnestness, when neither at the moment
perceived that I was present there.
Sim. I believe it; and Davus a short time since forewarned me that this
would be the case; and I don’t know how I forgot to tell it you to-day, as I
had intended.

Scene II.

Enter Davus from the house of Glycerium.

Dav. (aloud at the door, not seeing Simo and Chremes.) Now then, I bid you
set your minds at ease.
Chrem. (to Simo.) See you, there’s Davus.
Sim. From what house is he coming out?
Dav. (to himself.) Through my means, and that of the stranger——
Sim. (overhearing.) What mischief is this?
Dav. (to himself.) I never did see a more opportune person, encounter, or
occasion.
Sim. The rascal! I wonder who it is he’s praising?
Dav. All the affair is now in a safe position.
Sim. Why do I delay to accost him?
Dav. (to himself, catching sight of Simo.) It’s my master; What am I to do?
Sim. (accosting him.) O, save you, good sir!
Dav. (affecting surprise.) Hah! Simo! O, Chremes, my dear sir, all things
are now quite ready in-doors.
Sim. (ironically.) You have taken such very good care.
Dav. Send for the bride when you like.
Sim. Very good: (ironically) of course, that’s the only thing that’s now
wanting here. But do you answer me this, what business had you there?
(Pointing to the house of Glycerium.)
Dav. What, I?
Sim. Just so.
Dav. I?
Sim. Yes, you.
Dav. I went in just now.
Sim. As if I asked how long ago!
Dav. Together with your son.

Sim. What, is Phamphilus in there? (Aside.) To my confusion, I’m on the
rack (To Davus.) How now? Didn’t you say that there was enmity between
them, you scoundrel?
Dav. There is.
Sim. Why is he there, then?
Chrem. Why do you suppose he is? (Ironically.) Quarreling with her, of
course.
Dav. Nay but, Chremes, I’ll let you now hear from me a disgraceful piece
of business. An old man, I don’t know who he is, has just now come here;
look you, he is a confident and shrewd person; when you look at his
appearance, he seems to be a person of some consequence. There is a grave
sternness in his features, and something commanding in his words.
Sim. What news are you bringing, I wonder?
Dav. Why nothing but what I heard him mention.
Sim. What does he say then?
Dav. That he knows Glycerium to be a citizen of Attica.
Sim. (going to his door.) Ho there! Dromo, Dromo!

Scene III.

Enter Dromo hastily from the house.
Dro. What is it?
Sim. Dromo!
Dav. Hear me.
Sim. If you add a word—Dromo!
Dav. Hear me, pray.
Dro. (to Simo.) What do you want?

Sim. (pointing to Davus.) Carry him off on your shoulders in-doors as fast
as possible.
Dro. Whom?
Sim. Davus.
Dav. For what reason?
Sim. Because I choose. (To Dromo.) Carry him off, I say.
Dav. What have I done?
Sim. Carry him off.
Dav. If you find that I have told a lie in any one matter, then kill me.
Sim. I’ll hear nothing. I’ll soon have you set in motion.89
Dav. What? Although this is the truth.
Sim. In spite of it. (To Dromo.) Take care he’s kept well secured; and, do
you hear? Tie him up hands and feet together.90 Now then, be off; upon my
faith this very day, if I live, I’ll teach you what hazard there is in deceiving
a master, and him in deceiving a father.
( Dromo leads Davus into the house.)
Chrem. Oh, don’t be so extremely vexed.
Sim. O Chremes, the dutifulness of a son! Do you not pity me? That I
should endure so much trouble for such a son! (Goes to the door of
Glycerium’s house.) Come, Pamphilus, come out, Pamphilus! have you any
shame left?

Scene IV.

Enter Pamphilus in haste from Glycerium’s house.
Pam. Who is it that wants me? (Aside.) I’m undone! it’s my father.
Sim. What say you, of all men, the—?

Chrem. Oh! rather speak about the matter itself, and forbear to use harsh
language.
Sim. As if any thing too severe could now be possibly said against him.
Pray, do you say that Glycerium is a citizen—
Pam. So they say.
Sim. So they say! Unparalleled assurance! does he consider what he says? Is
he sorry for what he has done? Does his countenance, pray, at all betray any
marks of shame? That he should be of mind so weak, as, without regard to
the custom and the law91 of his fellow-citizens, and the wish of his own
father, to be anxious, in spite of every thing, to have her, to his own utter
disgrace!
Pam. Miserable that I am!
Sim. Ha! have you at last found that out only just now, Pamphilus? Long
since did that expression, long since, when you made up your mind, that
what you desired must be effected by you at any price; from that very day
did that expression aptly befit you. But yet why do I torment myself? Why
vex myself? Why worry my old age with this madness? Am I to suffer the
punishment for his offenses? Nay then, let him have her, good-by to him, let
him pass his life with her.
Pam. My father——
Sim. How, “my father?” As if you stood in any need of this father. Home,
wife, and children, provided by you against the will of your father! People
suborned, too, to say that she is a citizen of this place! You have gained
your point.
Pam. Father, may I say a few words?
Sim. What can you say to me?
Chrem. But, Simo, do hear him.
Sim. I, hear him? Why should I hear him, Chremes?
Chrem. Still, however, do allow him to speak.
Sim. Well then, let him speak: I allow him.

Pam. I own that I love her; if that is committing a fault, I own that also. To
you, father, do I subject myself. Impose on me any injunction you please;
command me. Do you wish me to take a wife? Do you wish me to give her
up? As well as I can, I will endure it. This only I request of you, not to think
that this old gentleman has been suborned by me. Allow me to clear myself,
and to bring him here before you.
Sim. To bring him here?
Pam. Do allow me, father.
Chrem. He asks what’s reasonable; do give him leave.
Pam. Allow me to obtain thus much of you.
Sim. I allow it. I desire any thing, so long as I find, Chremes, that I have not
been deceived by him.
( Pamphilus goes into the house of Glycerium.)
Chrem. For a great offense, a slight punishment ought to satisfy a father.

Scene V.

Re-enter Pamphilus with Crito.
Cri. (to Pamphilus, as he is coming out.) Forbear entreating. Of these, any
one reason prompts me to do it, either your own sake, or the fact that it is
the truth, or that I wish well for Glycerium herself.
Chrem. (starting.) Do I see Crito of Andros? Surely it is he.
Cri. Greetings to you, Chremes.
Chrem. How is it that, so contrary to your usage, you are at Athens?
Cri. So it has happened. But is this Simo?
Chrem. It is he.
Cri. Simo, were you asking for me?
Sim. How now, do you say that Glycerium is a citizen of this place?

Cri. Do you deny it?
Sim. (ironically.) Have you come here so well prepared?
Cri. For what purpose?
Sim. Do you ask? Are you to be acting this way with impunity? Are you to
be luring young men into snares here, inexperienced in affairs, and liberally
brought up, by tempting them, and to be playing upon their fancies by
making promises?
Cri. Are you in your senses?
Sim. And are you to be patching up amours with Courtesans by marriage?
Pam. (aside.) I’m undone! I fear that the stranger will not put up with this.
Chrem. If, Simo, you knew this person well, you would not think thus; he is
a worthy man.
Sim. He, a worthy man! To come so opportunely to-day just at the very
nuptials, and yet never to have come before? (Ironically.) Of course, we
must believe him, Chremes.
Pam. (aside.) If I didn’t dread my father, I have something, which, in this
conjuncture, I could opportunely suggest to him.92
Sim. (sneeringly, to Chremes.) A sharper!93
Cri. (starting.) Hah!
Chrem. It is his way, Crito; do excuse it.
Cri. Let him take heed how he behaves. If he persists in saying to me what
he likes, he’ll be hearing things that he don’t like. Am I meddling with these
matters or interesting myself? Can you not endure your troubles with a
patient mind? For as to what I say, whether it is true or false what I have
heard, can soon be known. A certain man of Attica, a long time ago,94 his
ship being wrecked, was cast ashore at Andros, and this woman together
with him, who was then a little girl; he, in his destitution, by chance first
made application to the father of Chrysis—
Sim. (ironically.) He’s beginning his tale.

Chrem. Let him alone.
Cri. Really, is he to be interrupting me in this way?
Chrem. Do you proceed.
Cri. He who received him was a relation of mine. There I heard from him
that he was a native of Attica. He died there.
Chrem. His name?
Cri. The name, in such a hurry!
Pam. Phania.
Chrem. (starting.) Hah! I shall die!
Cri. I’faith, I really think it was Phania; this I know for certain, he said that
he was a citizen of Rhamnus.95
Chrem. O Jupiter!
Cri. Many other persons in Andros have heard the same, Chremes.
Chrem. (aside.) I trust it may turn out as I hope. (To Crito.) Come now, tell
me, what did he then say about her? Did he say she was his own daughter?
Cri. No.
Chrem. Whose then?
Cri. His brother’s daughter.
Chrem. She certainly is mine.
Cri. What do you say?
Sim. What is this that you say?
Pam. (aside.) Prick up your ears, Pamphilus.
Sim. Why do you suppose so?
Chrem. That Phania was my brother.
Sim. I knew him, and I am aware of it.

Chrem. He, flying from the wars, and following me to Asia, set out from
here. At the same time he was afraid to leave her here behind; since then,
this is the first time I have heard what became of him.
Pam. (aside.) I am scarcely myself, so much has my mind been agitated by
fear, hope, joy, and surprise at this so great, so unexpected blessing.
Sim. Really, I am glad for many reasons that she has been discovered to be a
citizen.
Pam. I believe it, father.
Chrem. But there yet remains one difficulty96 with me, which keeps me in
suspense.
Pam. (aside.) You deserve to be——, with your scruples, you plague. You
are seeking a knot in a bulrush.97
Cri. (to Chremes.) What is that?
Chrem. The names don’t agree.
Cri. Troth, she had another when little.
Chrem. What was it, Crito? Can you remember it?
Cri. I’m trying to recollect it.
Pam. (aside.) Am I to suffer his memory to stand in the way of my
happiness, when I myself can provide my own remedy in this matter? I will
not suffer it. (Aloud.) Hark you, Chremes, that which you are trying to
recollect is “Pasibula.”
Chrem. The very same.
Cri. That’s it.
Pam. I’ve heard it from herself a thousand times.
Sim. I suppose, Chremes, that you believe that we all rejoice at this
discovery.
Chrem. So may the Gods bless me, I do believe it.
Pam. What remains to be done, father?

Sim. The event itself has quite brought me to reconcilement.
Pam. O kind father! With regard to her as a wife, since I have taken
possession of her, Chremes will not offer any opposition.
Chrem. The plea is a very good one, unless perchance your father says any
thing to the contrary.
Pam. Of course, I agree.
Sim. Then be it so.98
Chrem. Her portion, Pamphilus, is ten talents.
Pam. I am satisfied.
Chrem. I’ll hasten to my daughter. Come now, (beckoning) along with me,
Crito; for I suppose that she will not know me.
( They go into Glycerium’s house.)
Sim. (To Pamphilus.) Why don’t you order her to be sent for hither, to our
house?
Pam. Well thought of; I’ll at once give charge of that to Davus.
Sim. He can’t do it.
Pam. How so?
Sim. Because he has another matter that more nearly concerns himself, and
of more importance.
Pam. What, pray?
Sim. He is bound.
Pam. Father, he is not rightly bound.99
Sim. But I ordered to that effect.
Pam. Prithee, do order him to be set at liberty.
Sim. Well, be it so.
Pam. But immediately.
Sim. I’m going in.

Pam. O fortunate and happy day!
( Simo goes into his house.)

Scene VI.

Enter Charinus, at a distance.
Char. (apart to himself.) I’m come to see what Pamphilus is about; and
look, here he is.
Pam. (to himself.) Some one perhaps might imagine that I don’t believe this
to be true; but now it is clear to me that it really is true. I do think that the
life of the Gods is everlasting, for this reason, because their joys are their
own.100 For immortality has been obtained by me, if no sorrow interrupts
this delight. But whom in particular could I wish to be now thrown in my
way, for me to relate these things to?
Char. (apart to himself.) What means this rapture?
Pam. (to himself.) I see Davus. There is no one in the world whom I would
choose in preference; for I am sure that he of all people will sincerely
rejoice in my happiness.

Scene VII.

Enter Davus.
Dav. (to himself.) Where is Pamphilus, I wonder?
Pam. Here he is, Davus.
Dav. (turning round.) Who’s that?
Pam. ’Tis I, Pamphilus; you don’t know what has happened to me.
Dav. No really; but I know what has happened to myself.
Pam. And I too.

Dav. It has fallen out just like human affairs in general, that you should
know the mishap I have met with, before I the good that has befallen you.
Pam. My Glycerium has discovered her parents.
Dav. O, well done!
Char. (apart, in surprise.) Hah!
Pam. Her father is an intimate friend of ours.
Dav. Who?
Pam. Chremes.
Dav. You do tell good news.
Pam. And there’s no hinderance to my marrying her at once.
Char. (apart.) Is he dreaming the same that he has been wishing for when
awake?
Pam. Then about the child, Davus.
Dav. O, say no more; you are the only person whom the Gods favor.
Char. (apart.) I’m all right if these things are true. I’ll accost them.
( Comes forward.)
Pam. Who is this? Why, Charinus, you meet me at the very nick of time.
Char. That’s all right.
Pam. Have you heard—?
Char. Every thing; come, in your good fortune do have some regard for me.
Chremes is now at your command; I’m sure that he’ll do every thing you
wish.
Pam. I’ll remember you; and because it is tedious for us to wait for him
until he comes out, follow me this way; he is now in-doors at the house of
Glycerium; do you, Davus, go home; send with all haste to remove her
thence. Why are you standing there? Why are you delaying?
Dav. I’m going. (Pamphilus and Charinus go into the house of Glycerium.
Davus then comes forward and addresses the Audience.) Don’t you wait

until they come out from there; she will be betrothed within: if there is any
thing else that remains, it will be transacted in-doors. Grant us your
applause.101

FOOTNOTES
1. From σιμὸς, “flat-nosed.”
2. From πᾶν, “all,” and φιλὸς, “a friend.”
3. From σώζω, “to save;” saved in war.
4. From χρέμπτομαι, “to spit.”
5. From ξάρις, “grace.”
6. From κριτής, “a judge.”
7. From Dacia, his native country; the Davi and Daci being the same
people.
8. From δρόμος, “a race.”
9. From πυῤῥὸς, “red-haired.”
10. From γλυκερὸς, “sweet.”
11. From Mysia, her native country.
12. From Lesbos, her native country.
13. The Megalensian Games)—These games were instituted at Rome
in honor of the Goddess Cybele, when her statue was brought thither
from Pessinum, in Asia Minor, by Scipio Nasica; they were so called
from the Greek title Μεγάλη Μήτηρ, “the Great Mother.” They were
called Megalesia or Megalensia, indifferently. A very interesting
account of the origin of these games will be found in the Fasti of Ovid.
B. iv. l. 194, et seq.

14. Being Curule Ædiles)—Among the other offices of the Ædiles at
Rome, it was their duty to preside at the public games, and to provide
the necessary dramatic representations for the Theatre, by making
contracts with the Poets and Actors.
15. Ambivius Turpio and Lucius Atilius Prænestinus)—These persons
were the heads or managers of the company of actors who performed
the Play, and as such it was their province to make the necessary
contracts with the Curule Ædiles. They were also actors themselves,
and usually took the leading characters. Ambivius Turpio seems to
have been a favorite with the Roman public, and to have performed for
many years; of L. Atilius Prænestinus nothing is known.
16. Freedman of Claudius)—According to some, the words, “Flaccus
Claudi” mean “the son of Claudius.” It is, however, more generally
thought that it is thereby meant that he was the freedman or liberated
slave of some Roman noble of the family of the Claudii.
17. Treble flutes and bass flutes)—The history of ancient music, and
especially that relative to the “tibiæ,” “pipes” or “flutes,” is replete
with obscurity. It is not agreed what are the meanings of the respective
terms, but in the present Translation the following theory has been
adopted: The words “dextræ” and “sinistræ” denote the kind of flute,
the former being treble, the latter bass flutes, or, as they were
sometimes called, “incentivæ” or “succentivæ;” though it has been
thought by some that they were so called because the former held with
the right hand, the latter with the left. When two treble flutes or two
bass flutes were played upon at the same time, they were called “tibiæ
pares;” but when one was “dextra” and the other “sinistra,” “tibiæ
impares.” Hence the words “paribus dextris et sinistris,” would mean
alternately with treble flutes and bass flutes. Two “tibiæ” were often
played upon by one performer at the same time. For a specimen of a
Roman “tibicen” or “piper,” see the last scene of the Stichus of
Plautus. Some curious information relative to the pipers of Rome and
the legislative enactments respecting them will be found in the Fasti of
Ovid, B. vi. l. 653, et seq.

18. It is entirety Grecian)—This means that the scene is in Greece, and
that it is of the kind called “palliata,” as representing the manners of
the Greeks, who wore the “pallium,” or outer cloak; whereas the
Romans wore the “toga.” In the Prologue, Terence states that he
borrowed it from the Greek of Menander.
19. Being Consuls)—M. Claudius Marcellus and C. Sulpicius Galba
were Consuls in the year from the building of Rome 586, and B.C. 167.
20. A malevolent old Poet)—Ver. 7. He alludes to Luscus Lanuvinus,
or Lavinius, a Comic Poet of his time, but considerably his senior. He
is mentioned by Terence in all his Prologues except that to the Hecyra,
and seems to have made it the business of his life to run down his
productions and discover faults in them.
21. Composed the Andrian)—Ver. 9. This Play, like that of our author,
took its name from the Isle of Andros, one of the Cyclades in the
Ægean Sea, where Glycerium is supposed to have been born. Donatus,
the Commentator on Terence, informs us that the first Scene of this
Play is almost a literal translation from the Perinthian of Menander, in
which the old man was represented as discoursing with his wife just as
Simo does here with Sosia. In the Andrian of Menander, the old man
opened with a soliloquy.
22. And the Perinthian)—Ver. 9. This Play was so called from
Perinthus, a town of Thrace, its heroine being a native of that place.
23. Nævius, Plautus, and Ennius)—Ver. 18. Ennius was the oldest of
these three Poets. Nævius a contemporary of Plautus. See a probable
allusion to his misfortunes in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, l. 211.
24. The mystifying carefulness)—Ver. 21. By “obscuram diligentiam”
he means that formal degree of precision which is productive of
obscurity.
25. Are to be taken care of, I suppose)—Ver. 30. “Nempe ut curentur
recte hæc.” Colman here remarks; “Madame Dacier will have it that
Simo here makes use of a kitchen term in the word ‘curentur.’ I believe
it rather means ‘to take care of’ any thing generally; and at the

conclusion of this very scene, Sosia uses the word again, speaking of
things very foreign to cookery, ‘Sat est, curabo.’”
26. To be my freedman)—Ver. 37. “Libertus” was the name given to a
slave set at liberty by his master. A “libertinus” was the son of a
“libertus.”
27. As it were a censure)—Ver. 43. Among the Greeks (whose manners
and sentiments are supposed to be depicted in this Play) it was a
maxim that he who did a kindness should forget it, while he who
received it should keep it in memory. Sosia consequently feels uneasy,
and considers the remark of his master in the light of a reproach.
28. After he had passed from youthfulness)—Ver. 51. “Ephebus” was
the name given to a youth when between the ages of sixteen and
twenty.
29. And a master)—Ver. 54. See the Notes to the Translation of the
Bacchides of Plautus, l. 109, where Lydus, a slave, appears as the
“pædagogus,” or “magister,” of Pistoclerus.
30. Or to the philosophers)—Ver. 57. It was the custom in Greece with
all young men of free birth to apply themselves to the study of
philosophy, of course with zeal proportioned to the love of learning in
each. They each adopted some particular sect, to which they attached
themselves. There is something sarcastic here, and indeed not very
respectful to the “philosophers,” in coupling them as objects of
attraction with horses and hounds.
31. Nothing to excess)—Ver. 61. “Ne quid nimis.” This was one of the
three sentences which were inscribed in golden letters in the Temple of
Apollo at Delphi. The two others were “Know thyself,” and “Misery is
the consequence of debt and discord.” Sosia seems from the short
glimpse we have of him to have been a retailer of old saws and
proverbs. He is unfortunately only a Protatic or introductory character,
as we lose sight of him after this Act.
32. Meanwhile, three years ago)—Ver. 60. The following remark of
Donatus on this passage is quoted by Colman for its curiosity. “The
Author has artfully said three years, when he might have given a

longer or a shorter period; since it is probable that the woman might
have lived modestly one year; set up the trade the next; and died the
third. In the first year, therefore, Pamphilus knew nothing of the family
of Chrysis; in the second, he became acquainted with Glycerium; and
in the third, Glycerium marries Pamphilus, and finds her parents.”
33. He is smitten)—Ver. 78. “Habet,” literally “He has it.” This was the
expression used by the spectators at the moment when a Gladiator was
wounded by his antagonist. In the previous line, in the words “captus
est,” a figurative allusion is made to the “retiarius,” a Gladiator who
was provided with a net, with which he endeavored to entangle his
opponent.
34. Gave his contribution)—Ver. 88. “Symbolam.” The “symbolæ,”
“shot” at picnic or club entertainments, are more than once alluded to
in the Notes to the Translation of Plautus.
35. Even I myself)—Ver. 116. Cooke remarks here: “A complaisant
father, to go to the funeral of a courtesan, merely to oblige his son!”
36. The female attendants)—Ver. 123. “Pedissequæ.” These
“pedissequæ,” or female attendants, are frequently alluded to in the
Plays of Plautus. See the Notes to Bohn’s Translation.
37. To the burying-place)—Ver. 128. “Sepulcrum” strictly means, the
tomb or place for burial, but here the funeral pile itself. When the
bones were afterward buried on the spot where they were burned, it
was called “bustum.”
38. Troubles itself about that)—Ver. 185. He says this contemptuously,
as if it was likely that the public should take any such great interest in
his son as the father would imply by his remark. By thus saying, he
also avoids giving a direct reply.
39. Davus, not Œdipus)—Ver. 194. Alluding to the circumstance of
Œdipus alone being able to solve the riddle of the Sphynx.
40. To the mill)—Ver. 199. The “pistrinum,” or “hand-mill,” for
grinding corn, was used as a mode of punishment for refractory slaves.
See the Notes to the Translation of Plautus.

41. Those in their dotage, not those who dote in love)—Ver. 218. There
is a jingle intended in this line, in the resemblance between
“amentium,” “mad persons,” and “amantium,” “lovers.”
42. They have resolved to rear)—Ver. 219. This passage alludes to the
custom among the Greeks of laying new-born children on the ground,
upon which the father, or other person who undertook the care of the
child, lifted it from the ground, “tollebat.” In case no one took charge
of the child, it was exposed, which was very frequently done in the
case of female children. Plato was the first to inveigh against this
barbarous practice. It is frequently alluded to in the Plays of Plautus.
43. Hence to the Forum)—Ver. 226. Colman has the following remark:
“The Forum is frequently spoken of in the Comic Authors; and from
various passages in which Terence mentions it, it may be collected that
it was a public place, serving the several purposes of a market, the seat
of the courts of justice, a public walk, and an exchange.”
44. Wine-bibbing)—Ver. 229. The nurses and midwives of antiquity
seem to have been famed for their tippling propensities. In some of the
Plays of Plautus we do not find them spared.
45. Rearing some monster)—Ver. 250. “Aliquid monstri alunt.”
Madame Dacier and some other Commentators give these words the
rather far-fetched meaning of “They are hatching some plot.” Donatus,
with much more probability, supposes him to refer to the daughter of
Chremes, whom, as the young women among the Greeks were brought
up in great seclusion, we may suppose Pamphilus never to have seen.
46. She is oppressed with grief)—Ver. 268. “Laborat a dolore.”
Colman has the following remark upon this passage: “Though the
word ‘laborat’ has tempted Donatus and the rest of the Commentators
to suppose that this sentence signifies Glycerium being in labor, I can
not help concurring with Cooke, that it means simply that she is
weighed down with grief. The words immediately subsequent
corroborate this interpretation; and at the conclusion of the Scene,
when Mysis tells him that she is going for a midwife, Pamphilus

hurries her away, as he would naturally have done here had he
understood by these words that her mistress was in labor.”
47. By your good Genius)—Ver. 289. “Per Genium tuum.” This was a
common expression with the Romans, and is used by Horace, Epistles,
B. i., Ep. 7:—
“Quod te per Genium dextramque Deosque Penates,
Obsecro, et obtestor—”
The word “Genius” signified the tutelary God who was supposed to
attend every person from the period of his birth. The signification of
the word will be found further referred to in the Notes to the
Translation of Plautus.
48. To fetch the midwife)—Ver. 299. Cooke has the following remark
here: “Methinks Mysis has loitered a little too much, considering the
business which she was sent about; but perhaps Terence knew that
some women were of such a temper as to gossip on the way, though an
affair of life or death requires their haste.” Colman thus takes him to
task for this observation: “This two-edged reflection, glancing at once
on Terence and the ladies, is, I think, very ill-founded. The delay of
Mysis, on seeing the emotion of Pamphilus, is very natural; and her
artful endeavors to interest Pamphilus on behalf of her mistress, are
rather marks of her attention than neglect.”
49. Charinus and Byrrhia). We learn from Donatus that the characters
of Charinus and Byrrhia were not introduced in the work of Menander,
but were added to the Play of Terence, lest Philumena’s being left
without a husband, on the marriage of Pamphilus to Glycerium, should
appear too tragical a circumstance. Diderot is of opinion that Terence
did not improve his Play by this addition.
50. Tell me nothing)—Ver. 336. It has been suggested that this refers to
Byrrhia’s dissuading his master from addressing Pamphilus, or else to
what he has told him concerning the intended marriage. Westerhovius
thinks that Byrrhia is just then whispering some trifling nonsense in his
master’s ear, which he, occupied with more important cares, is
unwilling to attend to.

51. To a high place)—Ver. 356. He probably alludes to some part of
the Acropolis, the citadel, or higher part of Athens, which commanded
a view of the lower town.
52. Stillness before the door)—Ver. 362. Madame Dacier observes that
this remark is very appropriately made by Davus, as showing that the
marriage was clearly not intended by Chremes. The house of the bride
on such an occasion would be thronged by her friends, and at the door
would be the musicians and those who were to form part of the bridal
procession.
53. No matron at the house)—Ver. 364. By the use of the word
“matrona,” he probably alludes to the “pronubæ” among the Romans,
whose duties were somewhat similar to those of our bride’s-maids. At
the completion of the bridal repast, the bride was conducted to the
bridal chamber by matrons who had not had more than one husband.
54. An obol’s worth)—Ver. 369. The “obelus” was the smallest Greek
silver coin, and was equal in value to about three halfpence of our
money. “Pisciculi minuti,” “little fish,” were much used for food
among the poorer classes; “mena,” a fish resembling our pilchard, was
a common article of food with the Romans. The larger kinds of fish
went under the general name of “cetum.”
55. I have now followed him)—Ver. 414. “Hunc venientem sequor.”
Cooke has the following remark on this line: “This verse, though in
every edition, as Bentley judiciously observes, is certainly spurious;
for as Pamphilus has not disappeared since Byrrhia left the stage, he
could not say ‘nunc hunc venientem sequor.’ If we suppose the line
genuine, we must at the same time suppose Terence guilty of a
monstrous absurdity.” On these words Colman makes the following
just observations: “Other Commentators have also stumbled at this
passage; but if in the words ‘followed him hither,’ we suppose ‘him’
(hunc) to refer to Simo, the difficulty is removed; and that the pronoun
really does signify Simo, is evident from the circumstance of
Pamphilus never having left the stage since the disappearance of
Byrrhia. Simo is also represented as coming on the stage homeward, so
that Byrrhia might easily have followed him along the street; and it is

evident that Byrrhia does not allude to Pamphilus from the agreeable
surprise which he expresses on seeing him there so opportunely for the
purpose.”
56. Inflict evil upon me)—Ver. 431. “Malum;” the usual name by
which slaves spoke of the beatings they were in the habit of receiving
at the hands or by the order of their irascible masters. Colman has the
following remarks: “Donatus observes on this Scene between Byrrhia,
Simo, Pamphilus, and Davus, that the dialogue is sustained by four
persons, who have little or no intercourse with each other; so that the
Scene is not only in direct contradiction to the precept of Horace,
excluding a fourth person, but is also otherwise vicious in its
construction. Scenes of this kind are, I think, much too frequent in
Terence, though, indeed, the form of the ancient Theatre was more
adapted to the representation of them than the modern. The
multiplicity of speeches aside is also the chief error in this dialogue;
such speeches, though very common in dramatic writers, ancient and
modern, being always more or less unnatural.”
57. What does he say, Davus?)—Ver. 434. “Quid, Dave, narrat?” This
reading Vollbehr suggests in place of the old one, “Quid Davus
narrat?” and upon good grounds, as it appears. According to the latter
reading we are to suppose that Davus is grumbling to himself, on
which Simo says, “What does Davus say?” It seems, however, much
more likely that Davus accompanies Pamphilus to the door, and speaks
to him before he goes in, and then, on his return to Simo, the latter
asks him, “What does he say, Davus?”
58. Just as much as nothing)—Ver. 434. “Æque quidquam nunc
quidem.” This is a circumlocution for “nothing at all:” somewhat more
literally perhaps, it might be rendered “just as much as before.”
Perizonius supplies the ellipsis with a long string of Latin words,
which translated would mean, “Now, indeed, he says equally as much
as he says then, when he says nothing at all.”
59. Amount of ten drachmæ)—Ver. 451. The Attic drachma was a
silver coin worth in value about 9¾d. of English money.

60. Juno Lucina)—Ver. 473. Juno Lucina had the care of women in
childbed. Under this name some suppose Diana to have been
worshiped. A similar incident to the present is found in the Adelphi, l.
486; and in the Aulularia of Plautus, l. 646.
61. Are your scholars forgetful?)—Ver. 477. He alludes under this term
to Mysis, Lesbia, and Pamphilus, whom he supposes Davus to have
been training to act their parts in the plot against him.
62. Let her bathe)—Ver. 483. It was the custom for women to bathe
immediately after childbirth. See the Amphitryon of Plautus, l. 669,
and the Note to the passage in Bohn’s Translation.
63. Be laying the child)—Ver. 507. Colman has the following remark
on this line:—“The art of this passage is equal to the pleasantry, for
though Davus runs into this detail merely with a view to dupe the old
man still further by flattering him on his fancied sagacity, yet it very
naturally prepares us for an incident which, by another turn of
circumstances, afterward becomes necessary.”
64. Proved to be false)—Ver. 513. That is, according to Simo’s own
notion, which Davus now thinks proper to humor.
65. To Bring a child at the same time)—Ver. 515. This is a piece of
roguery which has probably been practiced in all ages, and was
somewhat commonly perpetrated in Greece. The reader of English
history will remember how the unfortunate son of James II was said, in
the face of the strongest evidence to the contrary, to have been a
supposititious child brought into the queen’s chamber in a silver
warming-pan.
66. But I do not think)—Ver. 563-4. “At ego non posse arbitror neque
illum hane perpetuo habere.” Chremes uses an ambiguous expression
here, perhaps purposely. It may mean, “I do not think that he can
possibly be constant to her,” or, “that she will continue to live with
him.”
67. A sure son-in-law)—Ver. 571. By the use of the word “firmum,” he
means a son-in-law who will not be likely to resort to divorce or
separation from his wife.

68. Why isn’t the bride sent for?)—Ver. 582. Among the Greeks the
bride was conducted by the bridegroom at nightfall from her father’s
house, in a chariot drawn by a pair of mules or oxen, and escorted by
persons carrying the nuptial torches. Among the Romans she
proceeded in the evening to the bridegroom’s house; preceded by a boy
carrying a torch of white thorn, or, according to some, of pine-wood.
To this custom reference is indirectly made in the present passage.
69. I myself, indeed!)—Ver. 597. No doubt Davus says these words in
sorrow and regret; Simo, however, supposes them to be uttered in
exultation at the apparent success of his plans. Consequently “vero” is
intended by Davus to have the sense here of “too truly.”
70. To a frivolous slave)—Ver. 610. “Servo futili.” According to the
Scholiast on the Thebais of Statius, B. viii. l. 297, “vas futile” was a
kind of vessel with a broad mouth and narrow bottom, used in the rites
of Vesta. It was made of that peculiar shape in order that the priest
should be obliged to hold it during the sacrifices, and might not set it
on the ground, which was considered profane; as, if set there, the
contents must necessarily fall out. From this circumstance, men who
could not contain a secret were sometimes called “futiles.”
71. You scoundrel)—Ver. 619. “Furcifer;” literally, wearer of the
“furca,” or wooden collar. This method of punishment has been
referred to in the Notes to the Translation of Plautus.
72. What do you deserve?)—Ver. 622. Madame Dacier remarks that
this question is taken from the custom of the Athenians, who never
condemned a criminal without first asking him what punishment he
thought he deserved; and according to the nature of his answer they
mitigated or increased his punishment. Tho Commentators quote a
similar passage from the Frogs of Aristophanes.
73. The cross)—Ver. 622. The “cross,” “crux,” as a punishment for
refractory slaves has been remarked upon in the Notes to the
Translation of Plautus.
74. The circumstances)—Ver. 635. “Res.” According, however, to
Donatus, this word has the meaning here of “malice” or “spitefulness.”

75. Concerned in my own interests)—Ver. 637. Equivalent to our
sayings, “Charity begins at home;” “Take care of number one.”
76. They are not ashamed)—Ver. 638. Terence has probably borrowed
this remark from the Epidicus of Plautus, l. 165-6: “Generally all men
are ashamed when it is of no use; when they ought to be ashamed, then
does shame forsake them, when occasion is for them to be ashamed.”
77. Makes a noise)—Ver. 683. The doors with the Romans opened
inwardly, while those of the Greeks opened on the outside. It was
therefore usual with them, when coming out, to strike the door on the
inside with a stick or with the knuckles, that those outside might be
warned to get out of the way. Patrick, however, observes with some
justice, that the word “concrepuit” may here allude to the creaking of
the hinges. See the Curculio of Plautus, l. 160, where the Procuress
pours water on the hinges, in order that Cappadox may not hear the
opening of the door.
78. Take some sacred herbs)—Ver. 727. “Verbena” appears to have
been a general term applied to any kind of herb used in honor of the
Deities, or to the boughs and leaves of any tree gathered from a pure or
sacred place. Fresh “verbenæ” were placed upon the altars every day.
See the Mercator of Plautus, l. 672.
79. From the altar here)—Ver. 727. It was usual to have altars on the
stage; when Comedy was performed, one on the left hand in honor of
Apollo, and on the representation of Tragedy, one on the right in honor
of Bacchus. It has been suggested that Terence here alludes to the
former of these. As, however, at Athens almost every house had its
own altar in honor of Apollo Prostaterius just outside of the street door,
it is most probable that to one of these altars reference is here made.
They are frequently alluded to in the Plays of Plautus.
80. Which I had first purposed, I now give up)—Ver. 734. His first
intention no doubt was to go and inform Simo of the child being laid at
the door.
81. Whenever there’s necessity)—Ver. 737. He retires without fully
explaining his intention to Mysis; consequently, in the next Scene she

gives an answer to Chremes which Davus does not intend.
82. Stuffed out beneath her clothes)—Ver. 771. “Suffarcinatam.” He
alludes to the trick already referred to as common among the Greeks,
of the nurses and midwives secretly introducing supposititious
children; see l. 515 and the Note.
83. Several free women were present)—Ver. 772. She speaks of
“liberæ,” “free women,” because in Greece as well as Italy slaves were
not permitted to give evidence. See the Curculio of Plautus, l. 621, and
the Note to the passage in Bohn’s Translation. See also the remark of
Geta in the Phormio, l. 293.
84. Constrained by the laws)—Ver. 782. He alludes to a law at Athens
which compelled a man who had debauched a free-born woman to
marry her. This is said by Davus with the view of frightening Chremes
from the match.
85. She ought to be carried off)—Ver. 787. He says this implying that
Mysis, who is a slave, ought to be put to the torture to confess the
truth; as it was the usual method at Athens to force a confession from
slaves by that method. We find in the Hecyra, Bacchis readily offering
her slaves to be put to the torture, and in the Adelphi the same custom
is alluded to in the scene between Micio, Hegio, and Geta.
86. Descended to me by law)—Ver. 800. On the supposition that
Chrysis died without a will, Crito as her next of kin would be entitled
to her effects.
87. Is Chrysis then——?)—Ver. 804. This is an instance of
Aposiopesis; Crito, much affected, is unwilling to name the death of
Chrysis. It was deemed of ill omen to mention death, and numerous
Euphemisms or circumlocutions were employed in order to avoid the
necessity of doing so.
88. Warn me, a stranger)—Ver. 812. Patrick has the following remarks
upon this passage: “Madame Dacier observes that it appears, from
Xenophon’s Treatise on the policy of the Athenians, that all the
inhabitants of cities and islands in alliance with Athens were obliged in
all claims to repair thither, and refer their cause to the decision of the

people, not being permitted to plead elsewhere. We can not wonder
then that Crito is unwilling to engage in a suit so inconvenient from its
length, expense, and little prospect of success.” She might have added
that such was the partiality and corruptness of the Athenian people,
that, being a stranger, his chances of success would probably be
materially diminished.
89. You set in motion)—Ver. 865. By the use of the word “Commotus”
he seems to allude to the wretched, restless existence of a man tied
hand and foot, and continually working at the hand-mill. Westerhovius
thinks that Simo uses this word sarcastically, in allusion to the words
of Davus, at the beginning of the present Scene, “Animo otioso esse
impero;” “I bid you set your minds at ease.”
90. Hands and feet together)—Ver. 866. “Quadrupedem.” Literally “as
a quadruped” or “all fours.” Echard remarks that it was the custom of
the Athenians to tie criminals hands and feet together, just like calves.
91. Without regard to the custom and the law)—Ver. 880. There was a
law among the Athenians which forbade citizens to marry strangers,
and made the offspring of such alliances illegitimate; the same law
also excluded such as were not born of two citizens from all offices of
trust and honor.
92. Could opportunely suggest to him)—Ver. 919. Colman has the
following remark on this line: “Madame Dacier and several English
Translators make Pamphilus say that he could give Crito a hint or two.
What hints he could propose to suggest to Crito, I can not conceive.
The Italian translation, printed with the Vatican Terence, seems to
understand the words in the same manner that I have translated them,
in which sense (the pronoun ‘illum’ referring to Simo instead of Crito)
they seem to be the most natural words of Pamphilus on occasion of
his father’s anger and the speech immediately preceding.”
93. A sharper)—Ver. 920. “Sycophanta.” For some account of the
“sycophantæ,” “swindlers” or “sharpers” of ancient times, see the
Notes to the Trinummus of Plautus, Bohn’s Translation.

94. A long time ago)—Ver. 924. The story begins with “Olim,” just in
the same way that with us nursery tales commence with “There was,
a long time ago.”
95. A citizen of Rhamnus)—Ver. 931. Rhamnus was a maritime town
of Attica, near which many of the more wealthy Athenians had
country-seats. It was famous for the Temple of Nemesis there, the
Goddess of Vengeance, who was thence called “Rhamnusia.” In this
Temple was her statue, carved by Phidias out of the marble which the
Persians brought to Greece for the purpose of making a statue of
Victory out of it, and which was thus appropriately devoted to the
Goddess of Retribution. The statue wore a crown, and had wings, and,
holding a spear of ash in the right hand, it was seated on a stag.
96. One difficulty)—Ver. 941. “Scrupus,” or “scrupulus,” was properly
a stone or small piece of gravel which, getting into the shoe, hurt the
foot; hence the word figuratively came to mean a “scruple,”
“difficulty,” or “doubt.” We have a similar expression: “to be
graveled.”
97. A knot in a bulrush)—Ver. 942. “Nodum in scirpo quærere” was a
proverbial expression implying a desire to create doubts and
difficulties where there really were none; there being no knots in the
bulrush. The same expression occurs in the Menæchmi of Plautus, l.
247.
98. Of course——Then be it so)—Ver. 951. “Nempe id. Scilicet.”
Colman has the following remark on this line: “Donatus, and some
others after him, understand these words of Simo and Pamphilus as
requiring a fortune of Chremes with his daughter; and one of them
says that Simo, in order to explain his meaning, in the representation,
should produce a bag of money. This surely is precious refinement,
worthy the genius of a true Commentator. Madame Dacier, who
entertains a just veneration for Donatus, doubts the authenticity of the
observation ascribed to him. The sense I have followed is, I think, the
most obvious and natural interpretation of the words of Pamphilus and
Simo, which refers to the preceding, not the subsequent, speech of
Chremes.”

99. He is not rightly bound)—Ver. 956. “Non recte vinctus;” meaning
“it was not well done to bind him.” The father pretends to understand
him as meaning (which he might equally well by using the same
words), “non satis stricte,” “he wasn’t tightly enough” bound; and
answers “I ordered that he should be,” referring to his order for Davus
to be bound hand and foot. Donatus justly observes that the disposition
of the old gentleman to joke is a characteristic mark of his thorough
reconciliation.
100. Their joys are their own)—Ver. 961. Westorhovius remarks that
he seems here to be promulgating the doctrine of Epicurus, who taught
that the Deities devoted themselves entirely to pleasure and did not
trouble themselves about mortals. Donatas observes that these are the
doctrines of Epicurus and that the whole sentence is copied from the
Eunuch of Menander; to which practice of borrowing from various
Plays, allusion is made in the Prologue, where he mentions the mixing
of plays; “contaminari fabulas.”
101. Grant us your applause)—Ver. 982. “Plaudite.” Colman has the
following remark at the conclusion of this Play: “All the old Tragedies
and Comedies acted at Rome concluded in this manner. ‘Donec cantor
vos “Plaudite” dicat,’ says Horace. Who the ‘cantor’ was, is a matter of
dispute. Madame Dacier thinks it was the whole chorus; others
suppose it to have been a single actor; some the prompter, and some
the composer. Before the word ‘Plaudite’ in all the old copies is an Ω
which has also given rise to several learned conjectures. It is most
probable, according to the notion of Madame Dacier, that this Ω, being
the last letter of the Greek alphabet, was nothing more than the mark
of the transcriber to signify the end, like the Latin word ‘Finis’ in
modern books; or it might, as Patrick supposes, stand for Ωδος,
‘cantor,’ denoting that the following word ‘Plaudite’ was spoken by
him. After ‘Plaudite’ in all the old copies of Terence stand these two
words, ‘Calliopius recensui;’ which signify, ‘I, Calliopius, have revised
and corrected this piece.’ And this proceeds from the custom of the old
critics, who carefully revised all Manuscripts, and when they had read
and corrected any work, certified the same by placing their names at
the end of it.”

EUNUCHUS;
THE EUNUCH.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Laches,1 an aged Athenian.
Phædria,2
his sons.
Chærea,3
Antipho,4 a young man, friend of Chærea.
Chremes,5 a young man, brother of Pamphila.
Thraso,6 a boastful Captain.
Gnatho,7 a Parasite.
Parmeno,8 servant of Phædria.
Sanga,9 cook to Thraso.
Donax,10
Simalio,11 servants of Thraso.
Syriscus,12
Dorus,15 a Eunuch slave.
Thais,13 a Courtesan.
Pythias,14
her attendants.
Dorias,15
Sophrona,16 a nurse.
Pamphila,17 a female slave.

Scene.—Athens; before the houses of Laches and Thais.

T H E S U B J E C T.

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

T H E T I T L E 1 8 O F T H E P L A Y.

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

EUNUCHUS;
THE EUNUCH.

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

THE PROLOGUE.
If there is any one who desires to please as many good men as possible, and
to give offense to extremely few, among those does our Poet enroll his
name. Next, if there is one who thinks21 that language too harsh, is here
applied to him, let him bear this in mind—that it is an answer, not an attack;
inasmuch as he has himself been the first aggressor; who, by translating
plays verbally,22 and writing them in bad Latin, has made out of good

Greek Plays Latin ones by no means good. Just as of late he has published
the Phasma23 [the Apparition] of Menander; and in the Thesaurus [the
Treasure] has described24 him from whom the gold is demanded, as
pleading his cause why it should be deemed his own, before the person who
demands it has stated how this treasure belongs to him, or how it came into
the tomb of his father. Henceforward, let him not deceive himself, or fancy
thus, “I have now done with it; there’s nothing that he can say to me.”
I recommend him not to be mistaken, and to refrain from provoking me.
I have many other points, as to which for the present he shall be pardoned,
which, however, shall be brought forward hereafter, if he persists in
attacking me, as he has begun to do. After the Ædiles had purchased the
Eunuch of Menander, the Play which we are about to perform, he managed
to get an opportunity of viewing it.25 When the magistrates were present it
began to be performed. He exclaimed that a thief, no Poet, had produced the
piece, but still had not deceived26 him; that, in fact, it was the Colax, an old
Play of Plautus;27 and that from it were taken the characters of the Parasite
and the Captain. If this is a fault, the fault is the ignorance of the Poet; not
that he intended to be guilty of theft. That so it is, you will now be enabled
to judge. The Colax is a Play of Menander’s; in it there is Colax, a Parasite,
and a braggart Captain: he does not deny that he has transferred these
characters into his Eunuch from the Greek; but assuredly he does deny this,
that he was aware that those pieces had been already translated into Latin.
But if it is not permitted us to use the same characters as others, how can it
any more be allowed to represent hurrying servants,28 to describe virtuous
matrons, artful courtesans, the gluttonous parasite, the braggart captain, the
infant palmed off, the old man cajoled by the servant, about love, hatred,
suspicion? In fine, nothing is said now that has not been said before.
Wherefore it is but just that you should know this, and make allowance, if
the moderns do what the ancients used to do. Grant me your attention, and
give heed in silence, that you may understand what the Eunuch means.

ACT THE FIRST.

Scene I.

Enter Phædria and Parmeno.

Phæd. What, then, shall I do?29 Ought I not to go, not now even, when I am
sent for of her own accord? Or ought I rather so to behave myself as not to
put up with affronts from Courtesans? She shut her door against me; she
now invites me back. Ought I to return? No; though she should implore me.
Par. I’faith, if indeed you only can, there’s nothing better or more spirited;
but if you begin, and can not hold out stoutly, and if, when you can not
endure it, while no one asks you, peace being not made, you come to her of
your own accord, showing that you love her, and can not endure it, you are
done for; it’s all over with you; you are ruined outright. She’ll be jilting you,
when she finds you overcome. Do you then, while there’s time, again and
again reflect upon this, master, that a matter, which in itself admits of
neither prudence nor moderation, you are unable to manage with prudence.
In love there are all these evils; wrongs, suspicions, enmities,
reconcilements, war, then peace; if you expect to render these things,
naturally uncertain, certain by dint of reason, you wouldn’t effect it a bit the
more than if you were to use your endeavors to be mad with reason. And,
what you are now, in anger, meditating to yourself, “What! I to her?30 Who
—him! Who—me! Who wouldn’t? Only let me alone; I had rather die; she
shall find out what sort of a person I am;” these expressions, upon my faith,
by a single false tiny tear, which, by rubbing her eyes, poor thing, she can
hardly squeeze out perforce, she will put an end to; and she’ll be the first to
accuse you; and you will be too ready to give satisfaction to her.
Phæd. O disgraceful conduct! I now perceive, both that she is perfidious,
and that I am a wretched man. I am both weary of her, and burn with
passion; knowing and fully sensible, alive and seeing it, I am going to ruin;
nor do I know what I am to do.
Par. What you are to do? Why, only to redeem yourself, thus captivated, at
the smallest price you can; if you can not at a very small rate, still for as
little as you can; and do not afflict yourself.
Phæd. Do you persuade me to this?

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

Scene II.

Enter Thais from her house.
Thais (to herself, not seeing them.) Ah wretched me! I fear lest Phædria
should take it amiss or otherwise than I intended it, that he was not admitted
yesterday.
Phæd. (aside to Parmeno.) I’m trembling and shivering all over, Parmeno,
at the sight of her.
Par. (apart.) Be of good heart; only approach this fire,32 you’ll soon be
warmer than you need.
Thais (turning round.) Who is it that’s speaking here? What, are you here,
my Phædria? Why are you standing here! Why didn’t you come into the
house at once?
Par. (whispering to Phædria.) But not a word about shutting you out!
Thais. Why are you silent?
Phæd. Of course, it’s because33 this door is always open to me, or because
I’m the highest in your favor?
Thais. Pass those matters by.
Phæd. How pass them by? O Thais, Thais, I wish that I had equal affection
with yourself, and that it were in like degree, that either this, might distress
you in the same way that it distresses me, or that I might be indifferent at
this being done by you.
Thais. Prithee, don’t torment yourself, my life, my Phædria. Upon my faith,
I did it, not because I love or esteem any person more than you; but the case
was such that it was necessary to be done.

Par. (ironically.) I suppose that, poor thing, you shut him out of doors, for
love, according to the usual practice.
Thais. Is it thus you act, Parmeno? Well, well. (To Phædria.) But listen—the
reason for which I desired you to be sent for hither—
Phæd. Go on.
Thais. First tell me this; can this fellow possibly hold his tongue? (pointing
to Parmeno.)
Par. What, I? Perfectly well. But, hark you, upon these conditions I pledge
my word to you; the truth that I hear, I’m silent upon, and retain it most
faithfully; but if I hear what’s false and without foundation, it’s out at once;
I’m full of chinks, and leak in every direction. Therefore, if you wish it to
be kept secret, speak the truth.
Thais. My mother was a Samian; she lived at Rhodes—
Par. That may be kept a secret.
Thais. There, at that period, a certain merchant made present to my mother
of a little girl, who had been stolen away from Attica here.
Par. What, a citizen?
Thais. I think so; we do not know for certain: she herself used to mention
her mother’s and her father’s name; her country and other tokens she didn’t
know, nor, by reason of her age, was she able. The merchant added this: that
he had heard from the kidnappers that she had been carried off from
Sunium.34 When my mother received her, she began carefully to teach her
every thing, and to bring her up, just as though she had been her own
daughter. Most persons supposed that she was my sister. Thence I came
hither with that stranger, with whom alone at that period I was connected;
he left me all which I now possess—
Par. Both these things are false; out it goes.
Thais. How so?
Par. Because you were neither content with one, nor was he the only one to
make you presents; for he likewise (pointing to Phædria) brought a pretty

considerable share to you.
Thais. Such is the fact; but do allow me to arrive at the point I wish. In the
mean time, the Captain, who had begun to take a fancy to me, set out to
Caria;35 since when, in the interval, I became acquainted with you. You
yourself are aware how very dear I have held you; and how I confess to you
all my nearest counsels.
Phæd. Nor will Parmeno be silent about that.
Par. O, is that a matter of doubt?
Thais. Attend; I entreat you. My mother died there recently; her brother is
somewhat greedy after wealth. When he saw that this damsel was of
beauteous form and understood music, hoping for a good price, he forthwith
put her up for sale, and sold her. By good fortune this friend of mine was
present; he bought her as a gift to me, not knowing or suspecting any thing
of all this. He returned; but when he perceived that I had formed a
connection with you as well, he feigned excuses on purpose that he might
not give her; he said that if he could feel confidence that he should be
preferred to yourself by me, so as not to apprehend that, when I had
received her, I should forsake him, then he was ready to give her to me; but
that he did fear this. But, so far as I can conjecture, he has set his affections
upon the girl.
Phæd. Any thing beyond that?
Thais. Nothing; for I have made inquiry. Now, my Phædria, there are many
reasons why I could wish to get her away from him. In the first place,
because she was called my sister; moreover, that I may restore and deliver
her to her friends. I am a lone woman; I have no one here, neither
acquaintance nor relative; wherefore, Phædria, I am desirous by my good
offices to secure friends. Prithee, do aid me in this, in order that it may be
the more easily effected. Do allow him for the few next days to have the
preference with me. Do you make no answer?
Phæd. Most vile woman! Can I make you any answer after such behavior as
this?

Par. Well done, my master, I commend you; (aside) he’s galled at last. (To
Phædria.) You show yourself a man.
Phæd. I was not aware what you were aiming at; “she was carried away
from here, when a little child; my mother brought her up as though her own;
she was called my sister; I wish to get her away, that I may restore her to
her friends.” The meaning is, that all these expressions, in fine, now amount
to this, that I am shut out, he is admitted. For what reason? Except that you
love him more than me: and now you are afraid of her who has been
brought hither, lest she should win him, such as he is, from yourself.
Thais. I, afraid of that?
Phæd. What else, then, gives you concern? Let me know. Is he the only
person who makes presents? Have you found my bounty shut against you?
Did I not, when you told me that you wished for a servant-maid from
Æthiopia,36 setting all other matters aside, go and seek for one? Then you
said that you wanted a Eunuch, because ladies of quality37 alone make use
of them; I found you one. I yesterday paid twenty minæ38 for them both.
Though slighted by you, I still kept these things in mind; as a reward for so
doing, I am despised by you.
Thais. Phædria, what does this mean? Although I wish to get her away, and
think that by these means it could most probably be effected; still, rather
than make an enemy of you, I’ll do as you request me.
Phæd. I only wish that you used that expression from your heart and
truthfully, “rather than make an enemy of you.” If I could believe that this
was said sincerely, I could put up with any thing.
Par. (aside.) He staggers; how instantaneously is he vanquished by a single
expression!
Thais. I, wretched woman, not speak from my heart? What, pray, did you
ever ask of me in jest, but that you carried your point? I am unable to obtain
even this of you, that you would grant me only two days.
Phæd. If, indeed, it is but two days; but don’t let these days become twenty.
Thais. Assuredly not more than two days, or—

Phæd. “Or?” I won’t have it.
Thais. It shall not be; only do allow me to obtain this of you.
Phæd. Of course that which you desire must be done.
Thais. I love you as you deserve; you act obligingly.
Phæd. (to Parmeno.) I shall go into the country; there I shall worry myself
for the next two days: I’m resolved to do so; Thais must be humored. Do
you, Parmeno, take care that they are brought hither.
Par. Certainly.
Phæd. For the next two days then, Thais, adieu.
Thais. And the same to you, my Phædria; do you desire aught else?
Phæd. What should I desire? That, present with the Captain, you may be as
if absent; that night and day you may love me; may feel my absence; may
dream of me; may be impatient for me; may think about me; may hope for
me; may centre your delight in me; may be all in all with me; in fine, if you
will, be my very life, as I am yours.
( Exeunt Phædria and Parmeno.)

Scene III.

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

ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.

Enter Phædria and Parmeno.
Phæd. Mind that those people are taken there, as I ordered.
Par. I’ll do so.
Phæd. And carefully.
Par. It shall be done.
Phæd. And with all speed.
Par. It shall be done.
Phæd. Have you had sufficient instructions?
Par. Dear me! to ask the question, as though it were a matter of difficulty.
I wish that you were able, Phædria, to find any thing as easily as this
present will be lost.
Phæd. Together with it, I myself am lost, which concerns me more nearly.
Don’t bear this with such a feeling of vexation.
Par. By no means; on the contrary, I’ll see it done. But do you order any
thing else?
Phæd. Set off my present with words, as far as you can; and so far as you
are able, do drive away that rival of mine from her.
Par. Pshaw! I should have kept that in mind, even if you hadn’t reminded
me.
Phæd. I shall go into the country and remain there.
Par. I agree with you. (Moves as if going.)
Phæd. But hark you!
Par. What is it you want?

Phæd. Are you of opinion that I can muster resolution and hold out so as not
to come back within the time?
Par. What, you? Upon my faith, I don’t think so; for either you’ll be
returning at once, or by-and-by, at night, want of sleep will be driving you
hither.
Phæd. I’ll do some laborious work, that I may be continually fatigued, so as
to sleep in spite of myself.
Par. When wearied, you will be keeping awake; by this you will be making
it worse.
Phæd. Oh, you talk to no purpose, Parmeno: this softness of spirit, upon my
faith, must be got rid of; I indulge myself too much. Could I not do without
her, pray, if there were the necessity, even for a whole three days?
Par. Whew! an entire three days! Take care what you are about.
Phæd. My mind is made up.
( Exit.)

Scene II.

Parmeno alone.
Par. (to himself.) Good Gods! What a malady is this! That a man should
become so changed through love, that you wouldn’t know him to be the
same person! Not any one was there41 less inclined to folly than he, and no
one more discreet or more temperate. But who is it that’s coming this way?
Heyday! surely this is Gnatho, the Captain’s Parasite; he’s bringing along
with him the damsel as a present to her. Heavens! How beautiful! No
wonder if I make but a sorry figure here to-day with this decrepit Eunuch of
mine. She surpasses Thais herself.
( Stands aside.)

SCENE III.

Enter Gnatho at a distance, leading Pamphila.
Gna. (to himself.) Immortal Gods! how much does one man excel another!
What a difference there is between a wise person and a fool! This strongly
came into my mind from the following circumstance. As I was coming
along to-day, I met a certain person of this place, of my own rank and
station, no mean fellow, one who, like myself, had guttled away his paternal
estate; I saw him, shabby, dirty, sickly, beset with rags and years;—“What’s
the meaning of this garb?” said I; he answered, “Because, wretch that I am,
I’ve lost what I possessed: see to what I am reduced,—all my acquaintances
and friends forsake me.” On this I felt contempt for him in comparison with
myself. “What!” said I, “you pitiful sluggard, have you so managed matters
as to have no hope left? Have you lost your wits together with your estate?
Don’t you see me, who have risen from the same condition? What a
complexion I have, how spruce and well dressed, what portliness of person?
I have every thing, yet have nothing; and although I possess nothing, still,
of nothing am I in want.” “But I,” said he, “unhappily, can neither be a butt
nor submit to blows.”42 “What!” said I, “do you suppose it is managed by
those means? You are quite mistaken. Once upon a time, in the early ages,
there was a calling for that class; this is a new mode of coney-catching; I, in
fact, have been the first to strike into this path. There is a class of men who
strive to be the first in every thing, but are not; to these I make my court;
I do not present myself to them to be laughed at; but I am the first to laugh
with them, and at the same time to admire their parts: whatever they say,
I commend; if they contradict that self-same thing, I commend again. Does
any one deny? I deny: does he affirm? I affirm: in fine, I have so trained
myself as to humor them in every thing. This calling is now by far the most
productive.”
Par. (apart.) A clever fellow, upon my faith! From being fools he makes
men mad outright.
Gna. (to himself, continuing.) While we were thus talking, in the mean time
we arrived at the market-place; overjoyed, all the confectioners ran at once
to meet me; fishmongers,43 butchers, cooks,44 sausage-makers, and
fishermen, whom, both when my fortunes were flourishing and when they
were ruined, I had served, and often serve still: they complimented me,

asked me to dinner, and gave me a hearty welcome. When this poor hungry
wretch saw that I was in such great esteem, and that I obtained a living so
easily, then the fellow began to entreat me that I would allow him to learn
this method of me; I bade him become my follower45 if he could; as the
disciples of the Philosophers take their names from the Philosophers
themselves, so too, the Parasites ought to be called Gnathonics.
Par. (apart to the Audience.) Do you see the effects of ease and feeding at
another’s cost?
Gna. (to himself, continuing.) But why do I delay to take this girl to Thais,
and ask her to come to dinner? (Aside, on seeing Parmeno.) But I see
Parmeno, our rival’s servant, waiting before the door of Thais with a
sorrowful air; all’s safe; no doubt these people are finding a cold welcome.
I’m resolved to have some sport with this knave.
Par. (aside.) They fancy that, through this present, Thais is quite their own.
Gna. (accosting Parmeno.) With his very best wishes Gnatho greets
Parmeno, his very good friend.—What are you doing?
Par. I’m standing.46
Gna. So I perceive. Pray, do you see any thing here that don’t please you?
Par. Yourself.
Gna. I believe you,—but any thing else, pray?
Par. Why so?
Gna. Because you are out of spirits.
Par. Not in the least.
Gna. Well, don’t be so; but what think you of this slave? (pointing to her.)
Par. Really, not amiss.
Gna. (aside.) I’ve galled the fellow.
Par. (aside, on overhearing him.) How mistaken you are in your notion!
Gna. How far do you suppose this gift will prove acceptable to Thais?

Par. It’s this you mean to say now, that we are discarded there. Hark you,
there are vicissitudes in all things.
Gna. For the next six months, Parmeno, I’ll set you at ease; you sha’n’t
have to be running to and fro, or sitting up till daylight. Don’t I make you
happy?
Par. Me? O prodigiously!
Gna. That’s my way with my friends.
Par. I commend you.
Gna. I’m detaining you; perhaps you were about to go somewhere else.
Par. Nowhere.
Gna. In that case then, lend me your services a little; let me be introduced to
her.
Par. Very well; (Gnatho knocks at the door, which immediately opens) now
the door is open for you, (aside) because you are bringing her.
Gna. (going into the house of Thais, ironically.) Should you like any one to
be called out from here?
( Goes in with Pamphila, and shuts the door.)

Scene IV.

Parmeno, alone.
Par. (to himself.) Only let the next two days go by; you who, at present, in
such high favor, are opening the door with one little finger, assuredly I’ll
cause to be kicking at that door full oft, with your heels, to no purpose.
( Re-enter Gnatho from the house.)
Gna. Still standing here, Parmeno? Why now, have you been left on guard
here, that no go-between might perchance be secretly running from the
Captain to her?
( Exit.)

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

Scene V.

Enter Chærea on the other side of the stage, in haste.
Chæ. (to himself.) I’m utterly undone! The girl is nowhere; nor do I know
where I am myself, to have lost sight of her. Where to inquire for her, where
to search for her, whom to ask, which way to turn, I’m at a loss. I have only
this hope; wherever she is, she can not long be concealed. O what beauteous
features! from this moment I banish all other women from my thoughts;
I can not endure these every-day beauties.
Par. (apart.) Why look, here’s the other one. He’s saying something, I don’t
know what, about love. O unfortunate old man, their father! This assuredly
is a youth, who, if he does begin, you will say that the other one was mere
play and pastime, compared with what the madness of this one will cause.
Chæ. (to himself, aloud.) May all the Gods and Goddesses confound that
old fellow who detained me to-day, and me as well who stopped for him,
and in fact troubled myself a straw about him. But see, here’s Parmeno.
(Addressing him.) Good-morrow to you.
Par. Why are you out of spirits, and why in such a hurry? Whence come
you?
Chæ. What, I? I’faith, I neither know whence I’m come, nor whither I’m
going; so utterly have I lost myself.
Par. How, pray?
Chæ. I’m in love.
Par. (starting.) Ha!

Chæ. Now, Parmeno, you may show what sort of a man you are. You know
that you often promised me to this effect: “Chærea, do you only find some
object to fall in love with; I’ll make you sensible of my usefulness in such
matters,” when I used to be storing up my father’s provisions for you on the
sly in your little room.48
Par. To the point, you simpleton.
Chæ. Upon my faith, this is the fact. Now, then, let your promises be made
good, if you please, or if indeed the affair is a deserving one for you to exert
your energies upon. The girl isn’t like our girls, whom their mothers are
anxious to have with shoulders kept down, and chests well girthed,49 that
they may be slender. If one is a little inclined to plumpness, they declare
that she’s training for a boxer,50 and stint her food; although their
constitutions are good, by their treatment they make them as slight as
bulrushes; and so for that reason they are admired, forsooth.
Par. What sort of a girl is this one of yours?
Chæ. A new style of beauty.
Par. (ironically.) Astounding!
Chæ. Her complexion genuine,51 her flesh firm and full of juiciness.52
Par. Her age?
Chæ. Her age? Sixteen.
Par. The very flower of youth.53
Chæ. Do you make it your care to obtain her for me either by force, stealth,
or entreaty; so that I only gain her, it matters not how to me.
Par. Well, but to whom does the damsel belong?
Chæ. That, i’faith, I don’t know.
Par. Whence did she come?
Chæ. That, just as much.
Par. Where does she live?
Chæ. Nor yet do I know that.

Par. Where did you see her?
Chæ. In the street.
Par. How did you come to lose her?
Chæ. Why, that’s what I was just now fretting myself about; and I do not
believe that there is one individual to whom all good luck is a greater
stranger than to myself. What ill fortune this is! I’m utterly undone!
Par. What’s the matter?
Chæ. Do you ask me? Do you know Archidemides, my father’s kinsman
and years’-mate?
Par. Why not?
Chæ. He, while I was in full pursuit of her, met me.
Par. Unseasonably, upon my faith.
Chæ. Aye, unhappily, rather; for other ordinary matters are to be called
“unseasonable,” Parmeno. It would be safe for me to make oath that I have
not seen him for fully these six or seven months, until just now, when I least
wanted, and there was the least occasion. Come now! isn’t this like a
fatality? What do you say?
Par. Extremely so.
Chæ. At once he came running up to me, from a considerable distance,
stooping, palsied, hanging his lip, and wheezing. “Halloo, Chærea! halloo!”
said he; “I’ve something to say to you.” I stopped. “Do you know what it is
I want with you?” said he. “Say on,” said I. “To-morrow my cause comes
on,” said he. “What then?” “Be sure and tell your father to remember and
be my advocate54 in the morning.” In talking of this, an hour elapsed.55
I inquired if he wanted any thing else. “That’s all,” said he. I left him. When
I looked in this direction for the damsel, she had that very instant turned
thia way down this street of ours.
Par. (aside.) It’s a wonder if he doesn’t mean her who has just now been
made a present of to Thais here.
Chæ. When I got here, she was nowhere to be seen.

Par. Some attendants, I suppose, were accompanying the girl?
Chæ. Yes; a Parasite, and a female servant.
Par. (apart.) It’s the very same. (To Chærea.) It’s all over with you; make
an end of it; you’ve said your last.56
Chæ. You are thinking about something else.
Par. Indeed I’m thinking of this same matter.
Chæ. Pray, tell me, do you know her, or did you see her?
Par. I did see, and I do know her; I am aware to what house she has been
taken.
Chæ. What, my dear Parmeno, do you know her, and are you aware where
she is?
Par. She has been brought here (pointing) to the house of Thais the
Courtesan.57 She has been made a present to her.
Chæ. What opulent person is it, to be presenting a gift so precious as this?
Par. The Captain Thraso, Phædria’s rival.
Chæ. An unpleasant business for my brother, it should seem.
Par. Aye, and if you did but know what present he is pitting against this
present, you would say so still more.
Chæ. Troth now, what is it, pray?
Par. A Eunuch.58
Chæ. What! that unsightly creature, pray, that he purchased yesterday, an
old woman?
Par. That very same.
Chæ. To a certainty, the gentleman will be bundled out of doors, together
with his present; but I wasn’t aware that this Thais is our neighbor.
Par. It isn’t long since she came.

Chæ. Unhappy wretch that I am! never to have seen her, even. Come now,
just tell me, is she as handsome as she is reported to be?59
Par. Quite.
Chæ. But nothing in comparison with this damsel of mine?
Par. Another thing altogether.
Chæ. Troth now, Parmeno, prithee do contrive for me to gain possession of
her.
Par. I’ll do my best, and use all my endeavors; I’ll lend you my assistance.
(Going.) Do you want any thing else with me?
Chæ. Where are you going now?
Par. Home; to take those slaves to Thais, as your brother ordered me.
Chæ. Oh, lucky Eunuch that! really, to be sent as a present to that house!
Par. Why so?
Chæ. Do you ask? Ho will always see at home a fellow-servant of
consummate beauty, and he conversing with her; he will be in the same
house with her; sometimes he will take his meals with her; sometimes sleep
near her.
Par. What now, if you yourself were to be this fortunate person?
Chæ. By what means, Parmeno? Tell me.
Par. Do you assume his dress.
Chæ. His dress! Well, what then?
Par. I’ll take you there instead of him.
Chæ. (musing.) I hear you.
Par. I’ll say that you are he.
Chæ. I understand you.
Par. You may enjoy those advantages which you just now said he would
enjoy; you may take your meals together with her, be in company with her,
touch her, dally with her, and sleep by her side; as not one of these women

is acquainted with you, nor yet knows who you are. Besides, you are of an
age and figure that you may easily pass for a eunuch.
Chæ. You speak to the purpose; I never knew better counsel given. Well,
let’s go in at once; dress me up, take me away, lead me to her, as fast as you
can.
Par. What do you mean? Really, I was only joking.
Chæ. You talk nonsense.
Par. I’m undone! Wretch that I am! what have I done? (Chærea pushes him
along.) Whither are you pushing me? You’ll throw me down presently.
I entreat you, be quiet.
Chæ. Let’s be off. (Pushes him.)
Par. Do you still persist?
Chæ. I am resolved upon it.
Par. Only take care that this isn’t too rash a project.
Chæ. Certainly it isn’t; let me alone for that.
Par. Aye, but I shall have to pay the penalty60 for this?
Chæ. Pshaw!
Par. We shall be guilty of a disgraceful action.
Chæ. What, is it disgraceful61 to be taken to the house of a Courtesan, and
to return the compliment upon those tormentors who treat us and our
youthful age so scornfully, and who are always tormenting us in every way;
—to dupe them just as we are duped by them? Or is it right and proper that
in preference my father should be wheedled out of his money by deceitful
pretexts? Those who knew of this would blame me; while all would think
the other a meritorious act.
Par. What’s to be done in such case? If you are determined to do it, you
must do it: but don’t you by-and-by be throwing the blame upon me.
Chæ.. I shall not do so.
Par. Do you order me, then?

Chæ. I order, charge, and command you; I will never disavow my
authorizing you.
Par. Follow me; may the Gods prosper it!
( They go into the house of Laches.)

ACT THE THIRD.
Scene I.

Enter Thraso and Gnatho.
Thra. Did Thais really return me many thanks?
Gna. Exceeding thanks.
Thra. Was she delighted, say you?
Gna. Not so much, indeed, at the present itself, as because it was given by
you; really, in right earnest, she does exult at that.
( Enter Parmeno unseen, from Laches’ house.)
Par. (apart.) I’ve come here to be on the look-out, that when there is an
opportunity I may take the presents. But see, here’s the Captain.
Thra. Undoubtedly it is the case with me, that every thing I do is a cause
for thankfulness.
Gna. Upon my faith, I’ve observed it.
Thra. The most mighty King,62 even, always used to give me especial
thanks for whatever I did; but not so to others.
Gna. He who has the wit that you have, often by his words appropriates to
himself the glory that has been achieved by the labor of others.
Thra. You’ve just hit it.63

Gna. The king, then, kept you in his eye.64
Thra. Just so.
Gna. To enjoy your society.
Thra. True; he intrusted to me all his army, all his state secrets.
Gna. Astonishing!
Thra. Then if, on any occasion, a surfeit of society, or a dislike of business,
came upon him, when he was desirous to take some recreation; just as
though—you understand?65
Gna. I know; just as though on occasion he would rid his mind of those
anxieties.
Thra. You have it. Then he used to take me aside as his only boon
companion.
Gna. Whew! You are telling of a King of refined taste.
Thra. Aye, he is a person of that sort; a man of but very few
acquaintanceships.
Gna. (aside.) Indeed, of none,66 I fancy, if he’s on intimate terms with you.
Thra. All the people envied me, and attacked me privately. I don’t care one
straw. They envied me dreadfully; but one in particular, whom the King had
appointed over the Indian elephants.67 Once, when he became particularly
troublesome, “Prithee, Strato,” said I, “are you so fierce because you hold
command over the wild beasts?”
Gna. Cleverly said, upon my faith, and shrewdly. Astounding! You did give
the fellow a home thrust. What said he?
Thra. Dumfounded, instantaneously.
Gna. How could he be otherwise?
Par. (apart.) Ye Gods, by our trust in you! a lost and miserable fellow the
one, and the other a scoundrel.
Thra. Well then, about that matter, Gnatho, the way in which I touched up
the Rhodian at a banquet—did I never tell you?

Gna. Never; but pray, do tell me. (Aside.) I’ve heard it more than a
thousand times already.
Thra. There was in my company at a banquet, this young man of Rhodes,
whom I’m speaking of. By chance I had a mistress there; he began to toy
with her, and to annoy me. “What are you doing, sir impudence?” said I to
the fellow; “a hare yourself, and looking out for game?”68
Gna. (pretending to laugh very heartily.) Ha, ha, ha!
Thra. What’s the matter?
Gna. How apt, how smart, how clever; nothing could be more excellent.
Prithee, was this a saying of yours? I fancied it was an old one.
Thra. Did you ever hear it before?
Gna. Many a time; and it is mentioned among the first-rate ones.
Thra. It’s my own.
Gna. I’m sorry though that it was said to a thoughtless young man, and one
of respectability.
Par. (apart.) May the Gods confound you!
Gna. Pray, what did he do?
Thra. Quite disconcerted. All who were present were dying with laughter;
in short, they were all quite afraid of me.
Gna. Not without reason.
Thra. But hark you, had I best clear myself of this to Thais, as to her
suspicion that I’m fond of this girl?
Gna. By no means: on the contrary, rather increase her jealousy.
Thra. Why so?
Gna. Do you ask me? Don’t you see, if on any occasion she makes mention
of Phædria or commends him, to provoke you——
Thra. I understand.

Gna. That such may not be the case, this method is the only remedy. When
she speaks of Phædria, do you instantly mention Pamphila. If at any time
she says, “Let’s invite Phædria to make one,” do you say, “Let’s ask
Pamphila to sing.” If she praises his good looks, do you, on the other hand,
praise hers. In short, do you return like for like, which will mortify her.
Thra. If, indeed, she loved me,69 this might be of some use, Gnatho.
Gna. Since she is impatient for and loves that which you give her, she
already loves you; as it is, then, it is an easy matter for her to feel vexed.
She will be always afraid lest the presents which she herself is now getting,
you may on some occasion be taking elsewhere.
Thra. Well said; that never came into my mind.
Gna. Nonsense. You never thought about it; else how much more readily
would you yourself have hit upon it, Thraso!

Scene II.

Enter Thais from her house, attended by Pythias.
Thais, (as she comes out.) I thought I just now heard the Captain’s voice.
And look, here he is. Welcome, my dear Thraso.
Thra. O my Thais, my sweet one, how are you? How much do you love me
in return for that music girl?
Par. (apart.) How polite! What a beginning he has made on meeting her!
Thais. Very much, as you deserve.
Gna. Let’s go to dinner then. (To Thraso.) What do you stand here for?
Par. (apart.) Then there’s the other one: you would declare that he was born
for his belly’s sake.
Thra. When you please; I sha’n’t delay.
Par. (apart.) I’ll accost them, and pretend as though I had just come out.
(He comes forward.) Are you going any where, Thais?

Thais. Ha! Parmeno; well done; just going out for the day.
Par. Where?
Thais, (aside, pointing at Thraso.) Why! don’t you see him?
Par. (aside.) I see him, and I’m sorry for it. (Aloud.) Phædria’s presents are
ready for you when you please.
Thra. (impatiently.) Why are we to stand here? Why don’t we be off?
Par. (to Thraso.) Troth now, pray, do let us, with your leave, present to her
the things we intend, and accost and speak to her.
Thra. (ironically.) Very fine presents, I suppose, or at least equal to mine.
Par. The fact will prove itself. (Goes to the door of Laches’ house and
calls.) Ho there! bid those people come out of doors at once, as I ordered.
( Enter from the house a Black Girl.)
Par. Do you step forward this way, (To Thais.) She comes all the way from
Æthiopia.
Thra. (contemptuously.) Here are some three minæ in value.
Gna. Hardly so much.
Par. Where are you, Dorus? Step this way.
( Enter Chærea from the house, dressed like the Eunuch.)
Par. There’s a Eunuch for you—of what a genteel appearance! of what a
prime age!
Thais. God bless me, he’s handsome.
Par. What say you, Gnatho? Do you see any thing to find fault with? And
what say you, Thraso? (Aside.) They hold their tongues; they praise him
sufficiently thereby. (To Thais.) Make trial of him in literature, try him in
exercises,70 and in music; I’ll warrant him well skilled in what it becomes a
gentleman to know.
Thra. That Eunuch, if occasion served,71 even in my sober senses, I—

Par. And he who has sent these things makes no request that you will live
for him alone, and that for his own sake others may be excluded; he neither
tells of battles nor shows his scars, nor does he restrict you as (looking at
Thraso) a certain person does; but when it is not inconvenient, whenever
you think fit, whenever you have the time, he is satisfied to be admitted.
Thra. (to Gnatho, contemptuously.) It appears that this is the servant of
some beggarly, wretched master.
Gna. Why, faith, no person, I’m quite sure of that, could possibly put up
with him, who had the means to get another.
Par. You hold your tongue—a fellow whom I consider beneath all men of
the very lowest grade: for when you can bring yourself to flatter that fellow
(pointing at Thraso), I do believe you could pick your victuals out of the
very flames.72
Thra. Are we to go now?
Thais. I’ll take these in-doors first (pointing to Chærea and the Æthiopian),
and at the same time I’ll order what I wish; after that I’ll return
immediately.
( Goes into the house with Pythias, Chærea, and the Slave.)
Thra. (to Gnatho.) I shall be off. Do you wait for her.
Par. It is not a proper thing for a general to be walking in the street with a
mistress.
Thra. Why should I use many words with you? You are the very ape of
your master.
( Exit Parmeno.)
Gna. (laughing.) Ha, ha, ha!
Thra. What are you laughing at?
Gna. At what you were mentioning just now; that saying, too, about the
Rhodian, recurred to my mind. But Thais is coming out.
Thra. You go before; take care that every thing is ready at home.

Gna. Very well.
( Exit.)
( Re-enter Thais, with Pythias and Female Attendants.)
Thais. Take care, Pythias, and be sure that if Chremes should happen to
come,73 to beg him to wait; if that is not convenient, then to come again; if
he can not do that, bring him to me.
Pyth. I’ll do so.
Thais. Well, what else was I intending to say? O, do you take particular care
of that young woman; be sure that you keep at home.
Thra. Let us begone.
Thais, (to her attendants.) You follow me.
( Exeunt Thais and Thraso, followed by the Attendants. Pythias
goes into the house.)

Scene III.

Enter Chremes.
Chrem. (to himself.) Why, really, the more and more I think of it, I shouldn’t
be surprised if this Thais should be doing me some great mischief; so
cunningly do I perceive myself beset by her. Even on the occasion when she
first requested me to be fetched to her (any one might ask me, “What
business had you with her?” Really I don’t know.) When I came, she found
an excuse for me to remain there; she said that she had been offering a
sacrifice,74 and that she was desirous to speak upon some important
business with me. Even then I had a suspicion that all these things were
being done for her artful purposes. She takes her place beside me; pays
every attention to me; seeks an opportunity of conversation. When the
conversation flagged, she turned off to this point—how long since my
father and mother died? I said that it was now a long time ago. Whether I
had any country-house at Sunium, and how far from the sea? I suppose that
this has taken her fancy, and she expects to get it away from me. Then at

last, whether any little sister of mine had been lost from there; whether any
person was with her; what she had about her when she was lost; whether
any one could recognize her. Why should she make these inquiries? Unless,
perhaps, she pretends—so great is her assurance—that she herself is the
same person that was formerly lost when a little girl. But if she is alive, she
is sixteen years old, not older; whereas Thais is somewhat older than I am.
She has sent to press me earnestly to come. Either let her speak out what
she wants, or not be troublesome; I assuredly shall not come a third time
(knocking at the door of Thais). Ho! there, ho! there! Is any one here? It’s I,
Chremes.

Scene IV.

Enter Pythias from the house.
Pyth. O most charming, dear creature!
Chrem. (apart.) I said there was a design upon me.
Pyth. Thais entreated you most earnestly to come again to-morrow.
Chrem. I’m going into the country.
Pyth. Do, there’s a dear sir.
Chrem. I can not, I tell you.
Pyth. Then stay here at our house till she comes back.
Chrem. Nothing less likely.
Pyth. Why, my dear Chremes? (Taking hold of him.)
Chrem. (shaking her off.) Away to perdition with you!
Pyth. If you are so determined about it, pray do step over to the place where
she is.
Chrem. I’ll go there.
Pyth. (calling at the door.) Here, Dorias (Dorias enters), show this person
directly to the Captain’s.

( Exit Chremes with Dorias, Pythias goes into the house.)

Scene V.

Enter Antipho.
Ant. (to himself.) Yesterday some young fellows of us agreed together at
the Piræus that we were to go shares today in a club-entertainment. We gave
Chærea charge of this matter; our rings were given75 as pledges; the place
and time arranged. The time has now gone by; at the place appointed there
was nothing ready. The fellow himself is nowhere to be met with; I neither
know what to say nor what to suppose. Now the rest have commissioned
me with this business, to look for him. I’ll go see, therefore, if he’s at home.
But who’s this, I wonder, coming out of Thais’s? Is it he, or is it not? ’Tis
the very man! What, sort of being is this? What kind of garb is this? What
mischief is going on now? I can not sufficiently wonder or conjecture. But,
whatever it is, I should like first at a distance to try and find out.
( He stands apart.)

Scene VI.

Enter Chærea from the house of Thais, in the Eunuch’s dress.
Chæ. (looking around, then aloud to himself.) Is there anybody here?
There’s no one. Is there any one following me from there? There’s not a
person. Now am I not at liberty to give vent to these raptures? O supreme
Jupiter! now assuredly is the time for me to meet my death,76 when I can so
well endure it; lest my life should sully this ecstasy with some disaster. But
is there now no inquisitive person to be intruding upon me, to be following
me wherever I go, to be deafening me, worrying me to death, with asking
questions; why thus transported, or why so overjoyed, whither I’m going,
whence I’m come, where I got this garb, what is my object, whether I’m in
my senses or whether downright mad?

Ant. (apart.) I’ll accost him, and I’ll do him the favor which I see he’s
wishing for. (Accosting him.) Chærea, why are you thus transported?
What’s the object of this garb? Why is it that you’re so overjoyed? What is
the meaning of this? Are you quite right in your senses? Why do you stare
at me? What have you to say?
Chæ. O joyous day! O welcome, my friend! There’s not one in all the world
whom I would rather wish to see at this moment than yourself.
Ant. Pray, do tell me what all this means.
Chæ. Nay rather, i’faith, I beg of you to listen to me. Do you know the
mistress whom my brother is so fond of?
Ant. I know her; I suppose you mean Thais?
Chæ. The very same.
Ant. So far I recollect.
Chæ. To-day a certain damsel was presented to her. Why now should I extol
or commend her beauty to you, Antipho, since you yourself know how nice
a judge of beauty I am? I have been smitten by her.
Ant. Do you say so?
Chæ. If you saw her, I am sure you would say she’s exquisite. What need of
many words? I fell in love with her. By good luck there was at our house a
certain Eunuch, whom my brother had purchased for Thais, and he had not
as yet been sent to her. On this occasion, Parmeno, our servant, made a
suggestion to me, which I adopted.
Ant. What was it?
Chæ. Be quiet, and you shall hear the sooner; to change clothes with him,
and order myself to be taken there in his stead.
Ant. What, instead of the Eunuch?
Chæ. The fact.
Ant. To receive what advantage, pray, from this plan?

Chæ. Do you ask? That I might see, hear, and be in company with her
whom I loved, Antipho. Is that a slight motive, or a poor reason? I was
presented to the woman. She, as soon as she received me, joyfully took me
home to her house and intrusted the damsel—
Ant. To whom? To you?
Chæ. To me.
Ant. (ironically.) In perfect safety, at all events.
Chæ. She gave orders that we male was to come near her, and commanded
me not to stir away from her; that I was to remain alone with her in the
inner apartments.77 Looking bashfully on the ground, I nodded assent.
Ant. (ironically.) Poor fellow!
Chæ. (continuing.) “I am going out,” said she, “to dinner.” She took her
maids with her; a few novices of girls78 remained, to be about her. These
immediately made preparations for her to bathe. I urged them to make
haste. While preparations were being made, the damsel sat in a room
looking up at a certain painting,79 in which was represented how Jove80 is
said once to have sent a golden shower into the bosom of Danaë. I myself
began to look at it as well, and as he had in former times played the like
game, I felt extremely delighted that a God should change himself into
money, and slily come through the tiles of another person’s house, to
deceive the fair one by means of a shower. But what God was this? He who
shakes the most lofty temples of heaven with his thunders. Was I, a poor
creature of a mortal,81 not to do the same? Certainly, I was to do it, and
without hesitation. While I was thinking over these matters with myself, the
damsel meantime was fetched away to bathe; she went, bathed, and came
back; after which they laid her on a couch. I stood waiting to see if they
gave me any orders. One came up, “Here, Dorus,” said she, “take this fan,82
and let her have a little air in this fashion, while we are bathing; when we
have bathed, if you like, you may bathe too.” With a demure air I took it.
Ant. Really, I should very much have liked to see that impudent face of
yours just then, and what figure a great donkey like you made, holding a
fan!

Chæ. (continuing.) Hardly had she said this, when all, in a moment, betook
themselves off: away they went to bathe, and chattered aloud;83 just as the
way is when masters are absent. Meanwhile, sleep overtook the damsel;
I slily looked askance84 through the fan;85 this way (showing how): at the
same time I looked round in all directions, to see whether all was quite safe.
I saw that it was. I bolted the door.
Ant. What then?
Chæ. Eh? What then, you simpleton?
Ant. I own I am.
Chæ. Was I to let slip the opportunity offered me, so excellent, so short-
lived,86 so longed for, so unexpected. In that case, i’faith, I really should
have been the person I was pretending to be.
Ant. Troth, you certainly are in the right; but, meantime, what has been
arranged about the club-entertainment?
Chæ. All’s ready.
Ant. You are a clever band; but where? At your house?
Chæ. No, at Discus’s, our freedman.
Ant. That’s a long way off.
Chæ. Then let’s make so much the greater haste.
Ant. Change your dress.
Chæ. Where am I to change it? I’m at a loss; for at present I’m an exile
from home; I’m afraid of my brother, lest he should be in-doors: and then
again of my father, lest he should have returned from the country by this.
Ant. Let’s go to my house; there is the nearest place for you to change.
Chæ. You say right. Let’s be off; besides, I want to take counsel with you
about this girl, by what means I may be able to secure the future possession
of her.
Ant. Very well.
( Exeunt.)

ACT THE FOURTH.
Scene I.

Enter Dorias, with a casket in her hand.
Dorias (to herself.) So may the Gods bless me, but from what I have seen,
I’m terribly afraid that this mad fellow will be guilty of some disturbance
to-day or of some violence to Thais. For when this young man, the brother
of the damsel, arrived, she begged the Captain to order him to be admitted;
he immediately began to get into a passion, and yet didn’t dare refuse; Thais
still insisted that he would invite the man in. This she did for the sake of
detaining him; because there was no opportunity just then of telling him
what she wanted to disclose about her sister. He was invited in, and took his
seat. Then she entered into discourse with him. But the Captain, fancying it
was a rival brought before his very eyes, wanted in his turn to mortify her:
“Hark you, boy,” said he, “go fetch Pamphila, that she may amuse us here.”
She exclaimed, “At a banquet! Certainly not.” The Captain still persisted to
a downright quarrel. Meanwhile my mistress secretly took off her golden
jewels,87 and gave them to me to take away: this is a sign, I’m sure, that
she’ll betake herself from there as soon as she possibly can.
( Goes into the house.)

Scene II.

Enter Phædria.
Phæd. (to himself.) While I was going88 into the country, I began on the
road, as it mostly happens when there is any anxiety on the mind, to reflect
with myself upon one thing after another, and upon every thing in the worst
light. What need of words? While I was musing thus, inadvertently I passed
my country-house. I had already got some distance from it, when I
perceived this; I returned again, really feeling quite uneasy; when I came to
the very turning that leads to the house, I came to a stop, and began to
reason with myself; “What! must I stay here alone for two days without

her? Well, and what then? It’s nothing at all. What? Nothing at all? Well
now, if I haven’t the privilege of touching her, am I not even to have that of
seeing her? If I may not do the one, at least I may the other. Surely to love
at a distance89 even, is better than nothing at all.” I purposely passed the
house. But how’s this, that Pythias is suddenly hurrying out in such a fright?
( Stands apart.)

Scene III.

Enter Pythias and Dorias in haste from the house of Thais.
Pyth. (aloud.) Where, wretch that I am, shall I find this wicked and impious
fellow? Or where look for him? That he should dare to commit so
audacious a crime as this! I’m ruined outright!
Phæd. (apart.) I dread what this may be.
Pyth. Besides, too, the villain, after he had abused the girl, rent all the poor
thing’s clothes, and tore her hair as well.
Phæd. (apart, in surprise.) Ha!
Pyth. If he were just now in my reach, how eagerly would I fly at that
villain’s eyes with my nails!
Phæd. (apart.) Really I can’t imagine what disturbance has happened to us
at home in my absence. I’ll accost them. (Going up to them.) What’s the
matter? Why in such haste? Or whom are you looking for, Pythias?
Pyth. Why, Phædria, whom should I be looking for? Away with you, as you
deserve, with such fine presents of yours.
Phæd. What is the matter?
Pyth. What, do you ask? The Eunuch you gave us, what confusion he has
caused. He has ravished the girl whom the Captain made present of to my
mistress.
Phæd. What is it you say?
Pyth. I’m ruined outright!

Phæd. You are drunk.
Pyth. I wish that they were so, who wish ill to me.
Dorias. Oh, prithee, my dear Pythias, what a monstrous thing this is!
Phæd. You are out of your senses. How could a Eunuch possibly do this?
Pyth. I know nothing about him: as to what he has done, the thing speaks
for itself. The girl is in tears; and when you ask her what’s the matter, she
does not dare tell. But he, a precious fellow, is nowhere to be seen. To my
sorrow I suspect too, that when he took himself off he carried something
away from the house.
Phæd. I can not enough wonder, whither this varlet can possibly have
betaken himself to any distance from here; unless perhaps he has returned
home to our house.
Pyth. Pray, go and see whether he is there.
Phæd. I’ll let you know immediately.
( Goes into the house of Laches.)
Dorias. Ruined outright! Prithee, my dear, I never did so much as hear of a
deed so abominable!
Pyth. Why, faith, I had heard that they were extremely fond of the women,
but were incapable; unfortunately what has happened never came into my
mind; otherwise I should have shut him up somewhere, and not have
intrusted the girl to him.

Scene IV.

Enter Phædria from the house of Laches, with Dorus in Chærea’s clothes.
Phæd. (dragging him out.) Come out, you villain! What, do you lag behind,
you runaway? Out with you, you sorry bargain!
Dorus (crying out.) Mercy, I do entreat you!

Phæd. Oh, do look at that! How the villain distorts his face. What means
your coming back hither? Why this change of dress? What have you to say?
If I had delayed a moment, Pythias, I shouldn’t have found him at home: he
had just prepared, in this fashion, for flight. (Pointing at his dress.)
Pyth. Have you caught the fellow, pray?
Phæd. Caught him, why not?
Pyth. O well done!
Dorias. Upon my faith that really is capital!
Pyth. Where is he?
Phæd. Do you ask the question? Don’t you see him? (Pointing to the
Eunuch.)
Pyth. (staring about.) See whom, pray?
Phæd. This fellow, to be sure (pointing).
Pyth. What person is this?
Phæd. The same that was brought to your house to-day.
Pyth. Not one of our people has ever beheld this person with her eyes,
Phædria.
Phæd. Not beheld him?
Pyth. Prithee, did you fancy that this was he who was brought to our
house?
Phæd. Why, I had no other.
Pyth. O dear! this one really isn’t to be compared with the other. He was of
a handsome and genteel appearance.
Phæd. He seemed so, just then, because he was decked out in party-colored
clothes:90 now he appears ugly, for this reason—because he hasn’t got them
on.
Pyth. Prithee, do hold your tongue; as though indeed the difference was so
trifling. A young man was brought to our house to-day, whom, really,

Phædria, you would have liked to look upon. This is a withered, antiquated,
lethargic, old fellow, with a speckled complexion.91
Phæd. (starting.) Hah! What tale is this? You’ll so be-fool me that I sha’n’t
know what I bought. (To Dorus.) How now, sirrah, did I not buy you?
Dorus. You did buy me.
Pyth. Bid him answer me in my turn.
Phæd. Question him.
Pyth. (to Dorus.) Did you come here to-day to our house? (Dorus shakes
his head.) He says, no. But it was the other one that came, about sixteen
years of age; whom Parmeno brought with him.
Phæd. (to Dorus.) Well now, in the first place tell me this, where did you
get that dress that you have on? What, are you silent? Monster of a fellow,
are you not going to speak (Shakes him.)
Dorus. Chærea came.
Phæd. What, my brother?
Dorus. Yes.
Phæd. When?
Dorus. To-day.
Phæd. How long since?
Dorus. Just now.
Phæd. With whom?
Dorus. With Parmeno.
Phæd. Did you know him before?
Dorus. No.
Phæd. How did you know he was my brother?
Dorus. Parmeno said he was. He gave me these clothes.
Phæd. I’m undone!

Dorus. He himself put on mine; afterward, they both went out together.
Pyth. Now are you quite satisfied that I am sober, and that we have told you
no falsehood? Is it now sufficiently evident that the girl has been ravished?
Phæd. Avaunt, you beast, do you believe what he says?
Pyth. What is there to believe? The thing speaks for itself.
Phæd. (apart to Dorus.) Step aside a little this way. Do you hear? (Dorus
steps aside.) A little further still. That will do. Now tell me this once more;
did Chærea take your clothes off you?
Dorus. He did.
Phæd. And did he put them on?
Dorus. He did.
Phæd. And was he brought here instead of you?
Dorus. Yes.
Phæd. Great Jupiter! O wicked and audacious fellow!
Pyth. Woe unto me! Now at last will you believe that we have been insulted
in a disgraceful manner?
Phæd. It is no wonder that you believe what the fellow says. (Aside.) What
I’m to do I know not. (Aside to Dorus.) Hark you, deny it all again.
(Aloud.) Can I not this day extract the truth from you? Did you really see
my brother Chærea?
Dorus. No.
Phæd. He can’t be brought to confess without being punished, I see: follow
me this way. At one moment he affirms, at another denies. (Aside.) Ask
pardon of me.
Dorus. Indeed, I do entreat you, Phædria.
Phæd. (kicking him.) Be off in-doors.
Dorus. Oh! oh!

Phæd. (aside.) How in any other fashion to get decently out of this I don’t
know; for really it’s all up with me. (Aloud, with pretended indignation.)
Will you be trifling with me even here, you knave?
( Follows Dorus into the house.)

Scene V.

Pythias and Dorias.
Pyth. I’m as certain that this is the contrivance of Parmeno as that I’m
alive.
Dorias. So it is, no doubt.
Pyth. I’faith, I’ll find out a method to-day to be even with him. But now,
what do you think ought to be done, Dorias?
Dorias. Do you mean with regard to this girl?
Pyth. Yes; whether I ought to mention it or be silent?
Dorias. Upon my word, if you are prudent, you won’t know what you do
know, either about the Eunuch or the girl’s misfortune. By this method
you’ll both rid yourself of all perplexity, and have done a service to her.92
Say this only, that Dorus has run away.
Pyth. I’ll do so.
Dorias. But don’t I see Chremes? Thais will be here just now.
Pyth. Why so?
Dorias. Because when I came away from there, a quarrel had just
commenced between them.
Pyth. Take in these golden trinkets; I shall learn from him what’s the
matter.
( Dorias takes the casket into the house.)

Scene VI.

Enter Chremes, somewhat drunk.
Chrem. Heyday! upon my faith, I’ve been bamboozled: the wine that I’ve
drunk has got the upper hand. But, so long as I was reclining, how
extremely sober I did seem to myself to be; when I got up, neither feet nor
senses were quite equal to their duty.
Pyth. Chremes!
Chrem. (turning round.) Who’s that? What, Pythias; dear me, how much
more charming you now seem to me than a short time since!
Pyth. Troth now, you are much more merry, that’s certain.
Chrem. Upon my faith, it is a true saying, that “Venus grows cold without
Ceres and Bacchus.” But has Thais got here long before me?
Pyth. Has she already come away from the Captain’s?
Chrem. A long time ago; an age since. There has been a most violent quarrel
between them.
Pyth. Did she say nothing about you following her?
Chrem. Nothing at all; only, on going away, she gave me a nod.
Pyth. Well now, wasn’t that enough?
Chrem. Why, I didn’t know that she meant that, until the Captain gave me
an explanation, because I was dull of comprehension; for he bundled me out
of the house. But look, here she is; I wonder how it was I got here before
her.

Scene VII.

Enter Thais.
Thais. (to herself.) I really do believe that he’ll be here presently, to force
her away from me. Let him come; but if he touches her with a single finger,
that instant his eyes shall be torn out. I can put up with his impertinences

and his high-sounding words, as long as they remain words: but if they are
turned into realities, he shall get a drubbing.
Chrem. Thais, I’ve been here some time.
Thais. O my dear Chremes, you are the very person I was wanting. Are you
aware that this quarrel took place on your account, and that the whole of
this affair, in fact, bore reference to yourself?
Chrem. To me? How so, pray?
Thais. Because, while I’ve been doing my best to recover and restore your
sister to you, this and a great deal more like it I’ve had to put up with.
Chrem. Where is she?
Thais. At home, at my house.
Chrem. (starting.) Hah!
Thais. What’s the matter? She has been brought up in a manner worthy of
yourself and of her.
Chrem. What is it you say?
Thais. That which is the fact. Her I present to you, nor do I ask of you any
return for her.
Chrem. Thanks are both felt and shall be returned in such way, Thais, as
you deserve.
Thais. But still, take care, Chremes, that you don’t lose her, before you
receive her from me; for it is she, whom the Captain is now coming to take
away from me by force. Do you go, Pythias, and bring out of the house the
casket with the tokens.93
Chrem. (looking down the side Scene.) Don’t you see him, Thais?
Pyth. (to Thais.) Where is it put?
Thais. In the clothes’ chest. Tiresome creature, why do you delay?
( Pythias goes into the house.)

Chrem. What a large body of troops the Captain is bringing with him
against you. Bless me!
Thais. Prithee, are you frightened, my dear sir?
Chrem. Get out with you. What, I frightened? There’s not a man alive less
so.
Thais. Then now is the time to prove it.
Chrem. Why, I wonder what sort of a man you take me to be.
Thais. Nay, and consider this too; the person that you have to deal with is a
foreigner;94 of less influence than you, less known, and one that has fewer
friends here.
Chrem. I’m aware of that; but it’s foolish to run the risk of what you are
able to avoid. I had rather we should prevent it, than, having received an
injury, avenge ourselves upon him. Do you go in and fasten the door, while
I run across hence to the Forum; I should like us to have the aid of some
legal adviser in this disturbance. (Moves, as if going.)
Thais. (holding him.) Stay.
Chrem. Let me go, I’ll be here presently.
Thais. There’s no occasion, Chremes. Only say that she is your sister, and
that you lost her when a little girl, and have now recognized her; then show
the tokens.
( Re-enter Pythias from the house, with the trinkets.)
Pyth. (giving them to Thais.) Here they are.
Thais. (giving them to Chremes.) Take them. If he offers any violence,
summon the fellow to justice; do you understand me?
Chrem. Perfectly.
Thais. Take care and say this with presence of mind.
Chrem. I’ll take care.
Thais. Gather up your cloak. (Aside.) Undone! the very person whom I’ve
provided as a champion, wants one himself.

( They all go into the house.)

Scene VIII.

Enter Thraso, followed by Gnatho, Sanga, and other Attendants.
Thra. Am I to submit, Gnatho, to such a glaring affront as this being put
upon me? I’d die sooner. Simalio, Donax, Syriscus, follow me! First, I’ll
storm the house.
Gna. Quite right.
Thra. I’ll carry off the girl.
Gna. Very good.
Thra. I’ll give her own self a mauling.
Gna. Very proper.
Thra. (arranging the men.) Advance hither to the main body, Donax, with
your crowbar; you, Simalio, to the left wing; you, Syriscus, to the right.
Bring up the rest; where’s the centurion Sanga, and his maniple95 of
rogues?
San. (coming forward.) See, here he is.
Thra. What, you booby, do you think of fighting with a dish-clout,96 to be
bringing that here?
San. What, I? I knew the valor of the general, and the prowess of the
soldiers; and that this could not possibly go on without bloodshed; how was
I to wipe the wounds?
Thra. Where are the others?
San. Plague on you, what others? Sannio is the only one left on guard at
home.
Thra. (to Gnatho.) Do you draw up your men in battle order; I’ll be behind
the second rank;97 from that position I’ll give the word to all.
( Takes his place behind the second rank.)

Gna. (aside.) That’s showing prudence; as soon as he has drawn them up,
he secures a retreat for himself.
Thra. (pointing to the arrangements.) This is just the way Pyrrhus used to
proceed.98
( Chremes and Thais appear above at a window.)
Chrem. Do you see, Thais, what plan he is upon? Assuredly, that advice of
mine about closing the door was good.
Thais. He who now seems to you to be a hero, is in reality a mere vaporer;
don’t be alarmed.
Thra. (to Gnatho.) What seems best to you?
Gna. I could very much99 like a sling to be given you just now, that you
might pelt them from here on the sly at a distance; they would be taking to
flight.
Thra. (to Gnatho.) But look (pointing), I see Thais there herself.
Gna. How soon are we to fall to?
Thra. Hold (holding him back); it behooves a prudent person to make trial
of every thing before arms. How do you know but that she may do what I
bid her without compulsion?
Gna. Ye Gods, by our trust in you, what a thing it is to be wise! I never
come near you but what I go away from you the wiser.
Thra. Thais, in the first place, answer me this. When I presented you that
girl, did you not say that you would give yourself up to me alone for some
days to come?
Thais. Well, what then?
Thra. Do you ask the question? You, who have been and brought your lover
under my very eyes? What business had you with him? With him, too, you
clandestinely betook yourself away from me.
Thais. I chose to do so.

Thra. Then give me back Pamphila; unless you had rather she were taken
away by force.
Chrem. Give her back to you, or you lay hands upon her? Of all the—
Gna. Ha! What are you about? Hold your tongue.
Thra. What do you mean? Am I not to touch my own?
Chrem. Your own, indeed, you gallows-bird!100
Gna. (to Chremes.) Have a care, if you please. You don’t know what kind of
man you are abusing now.
Chrem. (to Gnatho.) Won’t you be off from here? Do you know how
matters stand with you? If you cause any disturbance here to-day, I’ll make
you remember the place, and day, and me too, for the rest of your life.
Gna. I pity you, who are making so great a man as this your enemy.
Chrem. I’ll break your head this instant if you are not off.
Gna. Do you really say so, puppy? Is it that you are at?
Thra. (to Chremes.) What fellow are you? What do you mean? What
business have you with her?
Chrem. I’ll let you know: in the first place, I assert that she is a freeborn
woman.
Thra. (starting.) Ha!
Chrem. A citizen of Attica.
Thra. Whew!
Chrem. My own sister.
Thra. Brazen face!
Chrem. Now, therefore, Captain, I give you warning; don’t you use any
violence toward her. Thais, I’m going to Sophrona, the nurse, that I may
bring her here and show her these tokens.
Thra. What! Are you to prevent me from touching what’s my own?
Chrem. I will prevent it, I tell you.

Gna. (to Thraso.) Do you hear him? He is convicting himself of theft. Is
not that enough for you?
Thra. Do you say the same, Thais?
Thais. Go, find some one to answer you.
( She and Chremes go away from the window.)
Thra. (to Gnatho.) What are we to do now?
Gna. Why, go back again: she’ll soon be with you, of her own accord, to
entreat forgiveness.
Thra. Do you think so?
Gna. Certainly, yes. I know the disposition of women: when you will, they
won’t; when you won’t, they set their hearts upon you of their own
inclination.
Thra. You judge right.
Gna. Shall I dismiss the army then?
Thra. Whenever you like.
Gna. Sanga, as befits gallant soldiers,101 take care in your turn to remember
your homes and hearths.
San. My thoughts have been for some time among the sauce-pans.
Gna. You are a worthy fellow.
Thra. (putting himself at their head.) You follow me this way.
( Exeunt omnes.)

ACT THE FIFTH.
Scene I.

Enter Thais from her house, followed by Pythias.
Thais. What! do you persist, hussy, in talking ambiguously to me? “I do
know;” “I don’t know;” “he has gone off;” “I have heard;” “I wasn’t there.”
Don’t you mean to tell me plainly, whatever it is? The girl in tears, with her
garments torn, is mute; the Eunuch is off: for what reason? What has
happened? Won’t you speak?
Pyth. Wretch that I am, what am I to say to you? They declare that he was
not a Eunuch.
Thais. What was he then?
Pyth. That Chærea.
Thais. What Chærea?
Pyth. That stripling, the brother of Phædria.
Thais. What’s that you say, you hag?
Pyth. And I am satisfied of it.
Thais. Pray, what business had he at my house? What brought him there?
Pyth. I don’t know; unless, as I suppose, he was in love with Pamphila.
Thais. Alas! to my confusion, unhappy woman that I am, I’m undone, if
what you tell me is true. Is it about this that the girl is crying?
Pyth. I believe so.
Thais. How say you, you arch-jade? Did I not warn you about this very
thing, when I was going away from here?
Pyth. What could I do? Just as you ordered, she was intrusted to his care
only.
Thais. Hussy, I’ve been intrusting the sheep to the wolf. I’m quite ashamed
to have been imposed upon in this way. What sort of man was he?
Pyth. Hush! hush! mistress, pray; we are all right. Here we have the very
man.
Thais. Where is he?

Pyth. Why there, to the left. Don’t you see?
Thais. I see.
Pyth. Order him to be seized as quickly as possible.
Thais. What can we do to him, simpleton?
Pyth. What do to him, do you ask? Pray, do look at him; if his face doesn’t
seem an impudent one.
Thais. Not at all.
Pyth. Besides, what effrontery he has.

Scene II.

Enter Chærea, in the Eunuch’s dress, on the other side of the stage.

Chæ. (to himself.) At Antipho’s,102 both of them, father and mother, just as
if on purpose, were at home, so that I couldn’t any way get in, but that they
must have seen me. In the mean time, while I was standing before the door,
a certain acquaintance of mine was coming full upon me. When I espied
him, I took to my heels as fast as I could down a narrow unfrequented alley;
thence again to another, and thence to another; thus have I been most
dreadfully harassed with running about, that no one might recognize me.
But isn’t this Thais that I see? It is she. I’m at a stand. What shall I do? But
what need I care? What can she do to me?
Thais, (to Pythias.) Let’s accost him. (To Chærea.) Good Mister Dorus,
welcome; tell me, have you been running away?
Chæ. Madam, I did so.
Thais. Are you quite pleased with it?
Chæ. No.
Thais. Do you fancy that you’ll get off with impunity?
Chæ. Forgive this one fault; if I’m ever guilty of another, then kill me.
Thais. Were you in fear of my severity?

Chæ. No.
Thais. No? What then?
Chæ. (pointing at Pythias.) I was afraid of her, lest she might be accusing
me to you.
Thais. What had you done?
Chæ. A mere trifle.
Pyth. Come now, a trifle, you impudent fellow. Does this appear a trifle to
you, to ravish a virgin, a citizen?
Chæ. I took her for my fellow-servant.
Pyth. Fellow-servant? I can hardly restrain myself from flying at his hair.
A miscreant! Even of his own free will he comes to make fun of us.
Thais, (to Pythias.) Won’t you begone from here, you mad woman?
Pyth. Why so? Really, I do believe I should be something in this hang-
dog’s debt, if I were to do so; especially as he owns that he is your servant.
Thais. We’ll pass that by. Chærea, you have behaved unworthily of
yourself; for if I am deserving in the highest degree of this affront, still it is
unbecoming of you to be guilty of it. And, upon my faith, I do not know
what method now to adopt about this girl: you have so confounded all my
plans, that I can not possibly return her to her friends in such a manner as is
befitting and as I had intended; in order that, by this means, I might,
Chærea, do a real service to myself.
Chæ. But now, from henceforth, I hope, Thais, that there will be lasting
good-will between us. Many a time, from some affair of this kind and from
a bad beginning, great friendships have sprung up. What if some Divinity
has willed this?
Thais. I’faith, for my own part I both take it in that view and wish to do so.
Chæ. Yes, prithee, do so. Be sure of this one thing, that I did not do it for the
sake of affronting you, but in consequence of passion.
Thais. I understand, and, i’faith, for that reason do I now the more readily
forgive you. I am not, Chærea, of a disposition so ungentle, or so

inexperienced, as not to know what is the power of love.
Chæ. So may the Deities kindly bless me, Thais; I am now smitten with you
as well.
Pyth. Then, i’faith, mistress, I foresee you must have a care of him.
Chæ. I would not dare—
Pyth. I won’t trust you at all in any thing.
Thais, (to Pythias.) Do have done.
Chæ. Now I entreat you that you will be my assistant in this affair. I intrust
and commit myself to your care; I take you, Thais, as my protectress;
I implore you; I shall die if I don’t have her for my wife.
Thais. But if your father should say any thing—
Chæ. Oh, he’ll consent, I’m quite sure of that, if she is only a citizen.
Thais. If you will wait a little, the brother himself of the young woman will
be here presently; he has gone to fetch the nurse, who brought her up when
a little child; you yourself, shall be present Chærea, at his recognition of
her.
Chæ. I certainly will stay.
Thais. In the mean time, until he comes, would you prefer that we should
wait for him in the house, rather than here before the door?
Chæ. Why yes, I should like it much.
Pyth. (to Thais.) Prithee, what are you going to do?
Thais. Why, what’s the matter?
Pyth. Do you ask? Do you think of admitting him after this into your
house?
Thais. Why not?
Pyth. Trust my word for it, he’ll be creating some new disturbance.
Thais. O dear, prithee, do hold your tongue.
Pyth. You seem to me to be far from sensible of his assurance.

Chæ. I’ll not do any thing, Pythias.
Pyth. Upon my faith, I don’t believe you, Chærea, except in case you are
not trusted.
Chæ. Nay but, Pythias, do you be my keeper.
Pyth. Upon my faith, I would neither venture to give any thing to you to
keep, nor to keep you myself: away with you!
Thais. Most opportunely the brother himself is coming.
Chæ. I’faith, I’m undone. Prithee, let’s be gone in-doors, Thais. I don’t want
him to see me in the street with this dress on.
Thais. For what reason, pray? Because you are ashamed?
Chæ. Just so.
Pyth. Just so? But the young woman——
Thais. Go first; I’ll follow. You stay here, Pythias, that you may show
Chremes in.
( Thais and Chærea go into the house.)

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 favor to that villain who palmed this
fellow off upon us?
Chrem. Really, do bestir yourself more quickly, nurse.
Soph. I am bestirring.
Chrem. So I see; but you don’t stir forward.
Pyth. (to Chremes.) Have you yet shown the tokens to the nurse?
Chrem. All of them.
Pyth. Prithee, what does she say? Does she recognize them?

Chrem. Yes, with a full recollection of them.
Pyth. Upon my faith, you do bring good news; for I really wish well to this
young woman. Go in-doors: my mistress has been for some time expecting
you at home. (Chremes and Sophrona go into Thais’s house.) But look,
yonder I espy that worthy fellow, Parmeno, coming: just see, for heaven’s
sake, how leisurely he moves along. I hope I have it in my power to torment
him after my own fashion. I’ll go in-doors, that I may know for certain
about the discovery; afterward I’ll come out, and give this villain a terrible
fright.
( Goes into the house.)

Scene IV.

Enter Parmeno.
Par. (to himself.) I’ve just come back to see what Chærea has been doing
here. If he has managed the affair with dexterity, ye Gods, by our trust in
you, how great and genuine applause will Parmeno obtain! For not to
mention that a passion, full of difficulty and expense, with which he was
smitten for a virgin, belonging to an extortionate courtesan, I’ve found
means of satisfying for him, without molestation, without outlay, and
without cost; then, this other point—that is really a thing that I consider my
crowning merit, to have found out the way by which a young man may be
enabled to learn the dispositions and manners of courtesans, so that by
knowing them betimes, he may detest them ever after. (Pythias enters from
the house unperceived.) For while they are out of doors, nothing seems
more cleanly, nothing more neat or more elegant; and when they dine with a
gallant, they pick daintily about:103 to see the filth, the dirtiness, the
neediness of these women; how sluttish they are when at home, and how
greedy after victuals; in what a fashion they devour the black bread with
yesterday’s broth:—to know all this, is salvation to a young man.

Scene V.

Enter Pythias from the house.
Pyth. (apart, unseen by Parmeno.) Upon my faith, you villain, I’ll take
vengeance upon you for these sayings and doings; so that you sha’n’t make
sport of us with impunity. (Aloud, coming forward.) O, by our trust in the
Gods, what a disgraceful action! O hapless young man! O wicked Parmeno,
to have brought him here!
Par. What’s the matter?
Pyth. I do pity him; and so that I mightn’t see it, wretched creature that I
am, I hurried away out of doors. What a dreadful example they talk of
making him!
Par. O Jupiter! What is this tumult? Am I then undone? I’ll accost her.
What’s all this, Pythias? What are you saying? An example made of whom?
Pyth. Do you ask the question, you most audacious fellow? You’ve proved
the ruin of the young man whom you brought hither for the Eunuch, while
you were trying to put a trick upon us.
Par. How so, or what has happened? Tell me.
Pyth. I’ll tell you: that young woman who was to-day made a present to
Thais, are you aware that she is a citizen of this place, and that her brother
is a person of very high rank?
Par. I didn’t know that.
Pyth. But so she has been discovered to be; he, unfortunate youth, has
ravished her. When the brother came to know of this being done, in a most
towering rage, he——
Par. Did what, pray?
Pyth. First, bound him in a shocking manner.
Par. Bound him?
Pyth. And even though Thais entreated him that he wouldn’t do so——
Par. What is it you tell me?

Pyth. Now he is threatening that he will also do that which is usually done
to ravishers; a thing that I never saw done, nor wish to.
Par. With what assurance does he dare perpetrate a crime so heinous?
Pyth. How “so heinous?”
Par. Is it not most heinous? Who ever saw any one taken up as a ravisher in
a courtesan’s house?
Pyth. I don’t know.
Par. But that you mayn’t be ignorant of this, Pythias, I tell you, and give
you notice that he is my master’s son.
Pyth. How! Prithee, is it he?
Par. Don’t let Thais suffer any violence to be done to him. But why don’t I
go in myself?
Pyth. Take care, Parmeno, what you are about, lest you both do him no
good and come to harm yourself; for it is their notion, that whatever has
happened, has originated in you.
Par. What then, wretch that I am, shall I do, or how resolve? But look, I see
the old gentleman returning from the country; shall I tell him or shall I not?
By my troth, I will tell him; although I am certain that a heavy punishment
is in readiness for me; but it’s a matter of necessity, in order that he may
rescue him.
Pyth. You are wise. I’m going in-doors; do you relate to him every thing
exactly as it happened.
( Goes into the house.)

Scene VI.

Enter Laches.
Lach. (to himself.) I have this advantage104 from my country-house being
so near at hand; no weariness, either of country or of town, ever takes
possession of me; when satiety begins to come on, I change my locality. But

is not that our Parmeno? Surely it is he. Whom are you waiting for,
Parmeno, before the door here?
Par. (pretends not to see him.) Who is it? (Turning round.) Oh, I’m glad
that you have returned safe.
Lach. Whom are you waiting for?
Par. (aside.) I’m undone: my tongue cleaves to my mouth through fright.
Lach. Why, what is it you are trembling about? Is all quite right? Tell me.
Par. Master, in the first place, I would have you persuaded of what is the
fact; whatever has happened in this affair has happened through no fault of
mine.
Lach. What is it?
Par. Really you have reason to ask. I ought first to have told you the
circumstances. Phædria purchased a certain Eunuch, to make a present of to
this woman here.
Lach. To what woman?
Par. To Thais.
Lach. Bought? Good heavens, I’m undone! For how much?
Par. Twenty minæ.
Lach. Done for, quite.
Par. Then, Chærea is in love with a certain music-girl here. (Pointing to
Thais’s house.)
Lach. How! What? In love? Does he know already what a courtesan
means? Is he come to town? One misfortune close upon another.
Par. Master, don’t look so at me; he didn’t do these things by my
encouragement.
Lach. Leave off talking about yourself. If I live, you hang-dog, I’ll——But
first give me an account of it, whatever it is.
Par. He was taken to the house of Thais in place of the Eunuch.

Lach. In place of the Eunuch?
Par. Such is the fact. They have since apprehended him in the house as a
ravisher, and bound him.
Lach. Death!
Par. Mark the assurance of courtesans.
Lach. Is there any other calamity or misfortune besides, that you have not
told me of?
Par. That’s all.
Lach. Do I delay rushing in here?
( Runs into the house of Thais.)
Par. (to himself.) There’s no doubt but that I shall have a heavy punishment
for this affair, only that I was obliged to act thus. I’m glad of this, that some
mischief will befall these women here through my agency, for the old man
has, for a long time, been on the look-out for some occasion105 to do them a
bad turn; at last he has found it.

Scene VII.

Enter Pythias from the house of Thais, laughing.
Pyth. (to herself, on entering.) Never, upon my faith, for a long time past,
has any thing happened to me that I could have better liked to happen, than
the old gentleman just now, full of his mistake, coming into our house. I had
the joke all to myself, as I knew106 what it was he feared.
Par. (apart). Why, what’s all this?
Pyth. Now I’m come out to meet with Parmeno. But, prithee, where is he?
(Looking around.)
Par. (apart.) She’s looking for me.
Pyth. And there he is, I see; I’ll go up to him.

Par. What’s the matter, simpleton? What do you mean? What are you
laughing about? Still going on?
Pyth. (laughing.) I’m dying; I’m wretchedly tired with laughing at you.
Par. Why so?
Pyth. Do you ask? Upon my faith, I never did see, nor shall see, a more
silly fellow. Oh dear, I can not well express what amusement you’ve
afforded in-doors. And still I formerly took you to be a clever and shrewd
person. Why, was there any need for you instantly to believe what I told
you? Or were you not content with the crime, which by your advice the
young man had been guilty of, without betraying the poor fellow to his
father as well? Why, what do you suppose his feelings must have been at
the moment when his father saw him clothed in that dress? Well, do you
now understand that you are done for? (Laughing.)
Par. Hah! what is it you say, you hussy? Have you been telling me lies?
What, laughing still? Does it appear so delightful to you, you jade, to be
making fools of us?
Pyth. (laughing.) Very much so.
Par. Yes, indeed, if you can do it with impunity.
Pyth. Exactly so.
Par. By heavens, I’ll repay you!
Pyth. I believe you; but, perhaps, that which you are threatening, Parmeno,
will need a future day; you’ll be trussed up directly, for rendering a silly
young man remarkable for disgraceful conduct, and then betraying him to
his father; they’ll both be making an example of you. (Laughing.)
Par. I’m done for!
Pyth. This reward has been found you in return for that present of yours;107
I’m off.
( Goes into the house.)
Par. (to himself.) Wretch that I am; just like a rat, this day I’ve come to
destruction through betrayal of myself.108

Scene VIII.

Enter Thraso and Gnatho.
Gna. (to Thraso.) Well now? With what hope, or what design, are we come
hither? What do you intend to do, Thraso?
Thra. What, I? To surrender myself to Thais, and do what she bids me.
Gna. What is it you say?
Thra. Why any the less so, than Hercules served Omphale.109
Gna. The precedent pleases me. (Aside.) I only wish I may see your head
stroked down with a slipper;110 but her door makes a noise.
Thra. Confusion! Why, what mischief’s this? I never saw this person
before; why, I wonder, is he rushing out in such a hurry?
( They stand aside.)

Scene IX.

Enter Chærea from the house of Thais, on the other side of the stage.
Chæ. (to himself, aloud.) O fellow-townsmen, is there any one alive more
fortunate than me this day? Not any one, upon my faith: for clearly in me
have the Gods manifested all their power, on whom, thus suddenly, so many
blessings are bestowed.
Par. (apart.) Why is he thus overjoyed?
Chæ. (seeing Parmeno, and running up to him.) O my dear Parmeno, the
contriver, the beginner, the perfecter of all my delights, do you know what
are my transports? Are you aware that my Pamphila has been discovered to
be a citizen?
Par. I have heard so.
Chæ. Do you know that she is betrothed to me?
Par. So may the Gods bless me, happily done.

Gna. (apart to Thraso.) Do you hear what he says?
Chæ. And then, besides, I am delighted that my brother’s mistress is secured
to him; the family is united. Thais has committed herself to the patronage of
my father;111 she has put herself under our care and protection.
Par. Thais, then, is wholly your brother’s.
Chæ. Of course.
Par. Then this is another reason for us to rejoice, that the Captain will be
beaten out of doors.
Chæ. Wherever my brother is, do you take care that he hears this as soon as
possible.
Par. I’ll go look for him at home.
( Goes into the house of Laches.)
Thra. (apart to Gnatho.) Do you at all doubt, Gnatho, but that I am now
ruined everlastingly?
Gna. (to Thraso.) Without doubt, I do think so.
Chæ. (to himself.) What am I to make mention of first, or commend in
especial? Him who gave me the advice to do so, or myself, who ventured to
undertake it? Or ought I to extol fortune, who has been my guide, and has
so opportunely crowded into a single day events so numerous, so important;
or my father’s kindness and indulgence? Oh Jupiter, I entreat you, do
preserve these blessings unto us!

Scene X.

Enter Phædria from the house of Laches.
Phæd. (to himself.) Ye Gods, by our trust in you, what incredible things has
Parmeno just related to me! But where is my brother?
Chæ. (stepping forward.) Here he is.
Phæd. I’m overjoyed.

Chæ. I quite believe you. There is no one, brother, more worthy to be loved
than this Thais of yours: so much is she a benefactress to all our family.
Phæd. Whew! are you commending her too to me?
Thra. (apart.) I’m undone; the less the hope I have, the more I am in love.
Prithee, Gnatho, my hope is in you.
Gna. (apart.) What do you wish me to do?
Thra. (apart.) Bring this about, by entreaties or with money, that I may at
least share Thais’s favors in some degree.
Gna. (apart.) It’s a hard task.
Thra. (apart.) If you set your mind on any thing, I know you well. If you
manage this, ask me for any present you like as your reward; you shall have
what you ask.
Gna. (apart.) Is it so?
Thra. (apart.) It shall be so.
Gna. (apart.) If I manage this, I ask that your house, whether you are
present or absent, may be open to me; that, without invitation, there may
always be a place for me.
Thra. (apart.) I pledge my honor that it shall be so.
Gna. (apart.) I’ll set about it then.
Phæd. Who is it I hear so close at hand? (Turning round.) O Thraso—
Thra. (coming forward.) Save you both—
Phæd. Perhaps you are not aware what has taken place here.
Thra. I am quite aware.
Phæd. Why, then, do I see you in this neighborhood?
Thra. Depending on your kindness.
Phæd. Do you know what sort of dependence you have? Captain, I give you
notice, if ever I catch you in this street again, even if you should say to me,

“I was looking for another person, I was on my road this way,” you are
undone.
Gna. Come, come, that’s not handsome.
Phæd. I’ve said it.
Gna. I didn’t know you gave yourself such airs.
Phæd. So it shall be.
Gna. First hear a few words from me; and when I have said the thing, if you
approve of it, do it.
Phæd. Let’s hear.
Gna. Do you step a little that way, Thraso. (Thraso stands aside.) In the
first place, I wish you both implicitly to believe me in this, that whatever I
do in this matter, I do it entirely for my own sake; but if the same thing is of
advantage to yourselves, it would be folly for you not to do it.
Phæd. What is it?
Gna. I’m of opinion that the Captain, your rival, should be received among
you.
Phæd. (starting.) Hah!
Chæ. Be received?
Gna. (to Phædria.) Only consider. I’faith, Phaedria, at the free rate you are
living with her, and indeed very freely you are living, you have but little to
give; and it’s necessary for Thais to receive a good deal. That all this may
be supplied for your amour and not at your own expense, there is not an
individual better suited or more fitted for your purpose than the Captain. In
the first place, he both has got enough to give, and no one does give more
profusely. He is a fool, a dolt, a blockhead; night and day he snores away;
and you need not fear that the lady will fall in love with him; you may
easily have him discarded whenever you please.
Chæ. (to Phædria.) What shall we do?
Gna. And this besides, which I deem to be of even greater importance,—not
a single person entertains in better style or more bountifully.

Chæ. It’s a wonder if this sort of man can not be made use of in some way
or other.
Phæd. I think so too.
Gna. You act properly. One thing I have still to beg of you,—that you’ll
receive me into your fraternity; I’ve been rolling that stone112 for a
considerable time past.
Phæd. We admit you.
Chæ. And with all my heart.
Gna. Then I, in return for this, Phaedria, and you, Chaerea, make him over
to you113 to be eaten and drunk to the dregs.
Chæ. Agreed.
Phæd. He quite deserves it.114
Gna. (calling to Thraso.) Thraso, whenever you please, step this way.
Thra. Prithee, how goes it?
Gna. How? Why, these people didn’t know you; after I had discovered to
them your qualities, and had praised you as your actions and your virtues
deserved, I prevailed upon them.
Thra. You have managed well; I give you my best thanks. Besides, I never
was any where but what all were extremely fond of me.
Gna. (to Phædria and Chærea.) Didn’t I tell you that he was a master of the
Attic elegance?
Phæd. He is no other than you mentioned. (Pointing to his Father’s house.)
Walk this way. (To the Audience.) Fare you well, and grant us your
applause.

FOOTNOTES

1. From λαγχάνω, “to obtain by lot” or “heirship.”
2. From φαιδρὸς, “cheerful.”
3. From χαίρων, “rejoicing.”
4. From ἀντὶ, “opposite to,” and φῶς, “light,” or φῆμι, “to speak.”
5. From χρεμίζω, “to neigh;” delighting in horses.
6. From θρασὸς, “boldness.”
7. From γναθὸς, “the jawbone;” a glutton.
8. From παρὰ, “by,” and μένω, “to remain.”
9. From Sangia in Phrygia, his native country.
10. From δόναξ, “a reed.”
11. From σιμὸς, “flat-nosed.”
12. From Syria, his country; or from συρίσκος, “a basket of figs.”
13. From θεάομαι, “to look at.”
14. From πυθομένη, “asking questions.”
15. From Doris, their country, a part of Caria.
16. From σώφρων, “prudent.”
17. From πᾶν, “all,” and φιλὸς, “a friend.”
18. The Title)—Colman has the following remark on this Play: “This
seems to have been the most popular of all the Comedies of Terence.
Suetonius and Donatus both inform us that it was acted with the
greatest applause, and that the Poet received a larger price for it from
the Ædiles than had ever been paid for any before, namely, 8000
sesterces, which is about equal to 200 crowns, which in those times
was a considerable sum.”
19. Acted twice)—This probably means “twice in one day.” As it is
generally supposed that something is wanting after the figures II, this
is presumed to be “die,” “in one day,” in confirmation of which
Suetonius informs us that it really was performed twice in one day.

Donatus says it was performed three times, by which he may probably
mean, twice on one day and once on another.
20. Being Consuls)—M. Valerius Messala and C. Fannius Strabo were
Consuls in the year from the building of the City 591, or B.C. 162.
21. If there is one who thinks)—Ver. 4. He alludes to his old enemy,
Luscus Lavinius, the Comic Poet, who is alluded to in the Prologue to
the Andria, and has since continued his attacks upon him.
22. By translating literally)—Ver. 7. “Bene vertendo, at eosdem
scribendo male.” This passage has greatly puzzled some of the
Commentators. Bentley has, however, it appears, come to the most
reasonable conclusion; who supposes that Terence means by “bene
vertere,” a literal translation, word for word, from the Greek, by which
a servile adherence to the idiom of that language was preserved to the
neglect of the Latin idiom; in consequence of which the Plays of
Luscus Lavinius were, as he remarks, “male scriptæ,” written in bad
Latin.
23. Has published the Phasma)—Ver. 9. The “Φασμά,” or
“Apparition,” was a play of Menander, so called, in which a young
man looking through a hole in the wall between his father’s house and
that next door, sees a young woman of marvelous beauty, and is struck
with awe at the sight, as though by an apparition; in the Play, the girl’s
mother is represented as having made this hole in the wall, and having
decked it with garlands and branches that it may resemble a
consecrated place; where she daily performs her devotions in company
with her daughter, who has been privately brought up, and whose
existence is unknown to the neighbors. On the youth coming by
degrees to the knowledge that the object of his admiration is but a
mortal, his passion becomes so violent that it will admit of no cure but
marriage, with the celebration of which the Play concludes. Bentley
gives us the above information from an ancient Scholiast, whose name
is unknown, unless it is Donatus himself, which is doubtful. It would
appear that Luscus Lavinius had lately made a translation of this Play,
which, from its servile adherence to the language of the original, had
been couched in ungrammatical language, and probably not approved

of by the Audience. Donatus thinks that this is the meaning of the
passage, and that, content with this slight reference to a well-known
fact, the author passes it by in contemptuous silence.
24. And in the Thesaurus has described)—Ver. 10. Cook has the
following appropriate remark upon this passage: “In the ‘Thesaurus,’
or ‘Treasure’ of Luscus Lavinius, a young fellow, having wasted his
estate by his extravagance, sends a servant to search his father’s
monument: but he had before sold the ground on which the monument
was, to a covetous old man; to whom the servant applies to help him
open the monument; in which they discover a hoard and a letter. The
old fellow sees the treasure and keeps it; the young one goes to law
with him, and the old man is represented as opening his cause first
before the judge, which he begins with these words:—
‘Athenienses, bellum cum Rhodiensibus,
Quod fuerit, quid ego prædicem?’
‘Athenians, why should I relate the war with the Rhodians?’ And he
goes on in a manner contrary to the rules of court; which Terence
objects to, because the young man, who was the plaintiff, should open
his cause first. Thus far Bentley, from the same Scholiast [as referred
to in the last Note]. This Note is a clear explanation of the four verses
to which it belongs. Hare concurs with Madame Dacier in her opinion
‘de Thesauro,’ that it is only a part of the Phasma of Menander, and not
a distinct Play; but were I not determined by the more learned Bentley,
the text itself would not permit me to be of their opinion; for the words
‘atque in Thesauro scripsit’ seem plainly to me to be a transition to
another Play. The subject of the Thesaurus is related by Eugraphius,
though not with all the circumstances mentioned in my Note from
Bentley.” Colman also remarks here; “Menander and his contemporary
Philemon, each of them wrote a Comedy under this title. We have in
the above Note the story of Menander’s; and we know that of
Philemon’s from the ‘Trinummus’ of Plautus, which was a Translation
of it.”
25. Opportunity of viewing it)—Ver. 21. Colman thinks that this means
something “stronger than merely being present at the representation,”

and he takes the meaning to be, that having obtained leave to peruse
the MS., he furnished himself with objections against the piece, which
he threw out when it came to be represented before the magistrates.
Cooke thinks that the passage only means, “that he bustled and took
pains to be near enough at the representation to see and hear plainly.”
The truth seems to be that Lavinius managed to obtain admission at the
rehearsal or trial of the merits of the piece before the magistrates, and
that he then behaved himself in the unseemly manner mentioned in the
text.
26. Produced the piece, but still had not deceived him)—Ver. 24. There
is a pun here upon the resemblance in meaning of the words “verba
dare” and “fabulam dare.” The first expression means to “deceive” or
“impose upon;” the latter phrase has also the same meaning, but it may
signify as well “to represent” or “produce a Play.” Thus the
exclamation in its ambiguity may mean, “he has produced a Play, and
has not succeeded in deceiving us,” or “he has deceived us, and yet has
not deceived us.” This is the interpretation which Donatus puts upon
the passage.
27. Colax, an old Play of Plautus)—Ver. 25. Although Nonius
Marcellus professes to quote from the Colax of Plautus (so called from
the Greek Κολὰξ, “a flatterer” or “parasite”), some scholars have
disbelieved in the existence of any Play of Plautus known by that
name. Cooke says: “If Plautus had wrote a Play under the title of
‘Colax,’ I should think it very unlikely that it should have escaped
Terence’s eye, considering how soon he flourished after Plautus, his
being engaged in the same studies, and his having such opportunities
to consult the libraries of the great; for though all learning was then
confined to Manuscripts, Terence could have no difficulty in coming at
the best copies. The character of the ‘Miles Gloriosus’ [Braggart
Captain] here mentioned, I am inclined to think the same with that
which is the hero of Plautus’s Comedy, now extant, and called ‘Miles
Gloriosus,’ from which Terence could not take his Thraso.
Pyrgopolinices and Thraso are both full of themselves, both boast of
their valor and their intimacy with princes, and both fancy themselves
beloved by all the women who see them; and they are both played off

by their Parasites, but they differ in their manner and their speech:
Plautus’s Pyrgopolinices is always in the clouds, and talking big, and
of blood and wounds—Terence’s Thraso never says too little nor
much, but is an easy ridiculous character, continually supplying the
Audience with mirth without the wild extravagant bluster of
Pyrgopolinices; Plautus and Terence both took their soldiers and
Parasites from Menander, but gave them different dresses.” Upon this
Note Colman remarks: “Though there is much good criticism in the
above Note, it is certain that Plautus did not take his ‘Miles Gloriosus’
from the Colax of Menander, as he himself informs us it was translated
from a Greek play called Ἀλάζων, ‘the Boaster,’ and the Parasite is but
a trifling character in that play, never appearing after the first Scene.”
28. Hurrying servants)—Ver. 35. On the “currentes servi,” see the
Prologue to the Heautontimorumenos, l. 31. Ovid, in the Amores, B. i.,
El. 15, l. 17, 18, mentions a very similar combination of the characters
of Menander’s Comedy: “So long as the deceitful slave, the harsh
father, the roguish procuress, and the cozening courtesan shall endure,
Menander will exist.”
29. What, then, shall I do?)—Ver. 46. Phædria, on being sent for by
Thais, breaks out into those words as he enters, after having
deliberated upon his parting with her. Both Horace and Persius have
imitated this passage in their Satires.
30. What! I to her?)—Ver. 65. Donatus remarks that this is an abrupt
manner of speaking familiarly to persons in anger; and that the
sentences are thus to be understood, “I, go to her? Her, who has
received him! Who has excluded me!”—inasmuch as indignation loves
to deal in Ellipsis and Aposiopesis.
31. The downfall of our fortunes)—Ver. 79. Colman observes, “There
is an extreme elegance in this passage in the original; and the
figurative expression is beautifully employed.” “Calamitas” was
originally a word used in husbandry, which signified the destruction of
growing corn; because, as Donatus says, “Comminuit calamum et
segetem;”—“it strikes down the blades and standing corn.”

32. Approach this fire)—Ver. 85. “Ignem” is generally supposed to be
used figuratively here, and to mean “the flame of love.” Eugraphius,
however, would understand the expression literally, observing that
courtesans usually had near their doors an altar sacred to Venus, on
which they daily sacrificed.
33. Of course it’s because)—Ver. 89. It must be observed that these
words, commencing with “Sane, quia vero,” in the original, are said by
Phædria not in answer to the words of Thais immediately preceding,
but to her previous question, “Cur non recta introibas?” “Why didn’t
you come into the house at once?” and that they are spoken in bitter
irony.
34. From Sunium)—Ver. 115. This was a town situate near a lofty
Promontory of that name in Attica. It was famous for a fair which was
held there. “Sunium’s rocky brow” is mentioned by Byron in the song
of the Greek Captive in the third Canto of Don Juan.
35. Set out for Caria)—Ver. 126. This was a country of Asia Minor
upon the sea-coast, opposite to the island of Rhodes.
36. Servant-maid from Æthiopia)—Ver. 165. No doubt Æthiopian or
negro slaves were much prized by the great, and those courtesans
whose object it was to ape their manners.
37. Ladies of quality)—Ver. 168. “Reginæ,” literally “queens,” here
means women of rank and distinction.
38. Paid twenty minæ)—Ver. 169. The “minæ” contained one hundred
“drachmæ” of about 9¾d. each.
39. Ah wretched me!)—Ver. 197. Donatus remarks that the Poet
judiciously reserves that part of the plot to be told here, which Thais
did not relate to Phædria in the presence of Parmeno; whom the Poet
keeps in ignorance as to the rank of the damsel, that he may with the
more probability dare to assist Chærea in his attempt on her.
40. From the dispositions of other women)—Ver. 198. Donatus
observes that this is one of the peculiar points of excellence shown by
Terence, introducing common characters in a new manner, without

departing from custom or nature; since he draws a good Courtesan,
and yet engages the attention of the Spectators and amuses them.
Colman has the following Note here: “Under the name of Thais,
Menander is supposed to have drawn the character of his own mistress,
Glycerium, and it seems he introduced a Courtesan of the same name
into several of his Comedies. One Comedy was entitled ‘Thais,’ from
which St. Paul took the sentence in his Epistle to the Corinthians, ‘Evil
communications corrupt good manners.’” Plutarch has preserved four
lines of the Prologue to that Comedy, in which the Poet, in a kind of
mock-heroic manner, invokes the Muse to teach him to depict the
character of his heroine.
41. Not any one was there)—Ver. 226-7. Very nearly the same words
as these occur in the Mostellaria of Plautus, l. 29, 30: “Than whom,
hitherto, no one of the youth of all Attica has been considered more
temperate or equally frugal.”
42. Nor submit to blows)—Ver. 244. It has been remarked in the Notes
to the Translation of Plautus that the Parasites had, in consequence of
their state of dependence, to endure blows and indignities from their
fellow-guests. Their attempts to be “ridiculi” or “drolls” were made in
order to give some small return to their entertainers. See especially the
character of Gelasimus in the Stichus of Plautus, and the words of
Ergasilus in the Captivi, l. 88, 90. Diderot, as quoted by Colman,
observes: “This is the only Scene in Terence which I remember that
can be charged with being superfluous. Thraso has made a present to
Thais of a young girl. Gnatho is to convey her. Going along with her,
he amuses himself with giving the Spectators a most agreeable
eulogium on his profession. But was that the time for it? Let Gnatho
pay due attention on the stage to the young woman whom he is
charged with, and let him say what he will to himself, I consent to it.”
43. Fishmongers)—Ver. 257. “Cetarii;” strictly speaking, “dealers in
large fish.”
44. Cooks)—Ver. 257. The “coqui” were in the habit of standing in the
market-place for hire by those who required their services. See the
Pseudolus, the Aulularia, and the Mercator of Plautus, and the Notes to

Bohn’s Translation. See also a remark on the knavish character of the
sausage-makers in the Truculentus of Plautus, l. 110
45. Become my follower)—Ver. 262. “Sectari.” In allusion to the
manners of the ancient Philosophers, who were wont to be followed by
a crowd of their disciples, who were styled “sectatores” and “sectæ.”
Gnatho intends to found a new school of Parasites, who shall be called
the “Gnathonics,” and who, by their artful adulation, shall contrive to
be caressed instead of being maltreated. Artotrogus, the Parasite in the
Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, seems, however, to have forestalled
Gnatho as the founder of this new school.
46. I’m standing)—Ver. 271. “Quid agitur?” “Statur.” The same joke
occurs in the Pseudolus of Plautus, l. 457. “Quid agitur? Statur hic ad
hunc modum?” “What is going on?” or “What are you about?” “About
standing here in this fashion;” assuming an attitude. Colman observes
that there is much the same kind of conceit in the “Merry Wives of
Windsor.”
Falstaff. “My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about.”
Pistol. “Two yards or more.”
Cooke has the following note: “‘Quid agitur’ is to be supposed to have
a single meaning as spoken by Gnatho, but Parmeno archly renders it
ambiguous by his answer. Our two first English translations, that by
Bernard and that by Hoole, make nothing of it, nor indeed any other
part of their author. Echard follows Madame Dacier, and perceives a
joke; but he does not render ‘quid, agitur’ as the question ought to be
translated. ‘Quid agitur’ sometimes means, ‘What are you doing?’
Sometimes, ‘How do you do?’ ‘How are you?’ or ‘How goes the world
with you?’”
47. From the Piraeus)—Ver. 290. The Piraeus was the chief harbor of
Athens, at the mouth of the Cephisus, about three miles from the City.
It was joined to the town by two walls, one of which was built by
Themistocles, and the other by Pericles. It was the duty of the
Athenian youth to watch here in turn by way of precaution against
surprise by pirates or the enemy.

48. In your little room)—Ver. 310. Though “cellulam” seems to be
considered by some to mean “cupboard” or “larder,” it is more
probable that it here signifies the little room which was appropriated to
each slave in the family for his own use.
49. Shoulders kept down and chests well girthed)—Ver. 314. Ovid, in
the Art of Love, B. iii., l. 274, alludes to the “strophium” or “girth”
here referred to: “For high shoulders, small pads are suitable; and let
the girth encircle the bosom that is too prominent.” Becker thinks that
the “strophium” was different from the “fascia” or “stomacher,”
mentioned in the Remedy of Love, l. 338: “Does a swelling bosom
cover all her breast, let no stomacher conceal it.” From Martial we
learn that the “strophium” was made of leather.
50. Training for a boxer)—Ver. 315. “Pugilem.” This means “robust as
a boxer,” or “athlete.” These persons were naturally considered as the
types of robustness, being dieted for the purpose of increasing their
flesh and muscle.
51. Complexion genuine)—Ver. 318. “Color verns.” The same
expression is used by Ovid, in the Art of Love, B. iii., l. 164: “Et
melior vero quæritur arte color:” “And by art a color is sought superior
to the genuine one.”
52. Full of juiciness)—Ver. 318. “Succi plenum.” A similar expression
occurs in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, l. 787, where Periplecomenus
wishes inquiry to be made for a woman who is “siccam, at sucedam,”
“sober, but full of juice:” i.e. replete with the plumpness and activity of
youth.
53. The very flower of youth)—Ver. 319. Ovid makes mention of the
“flos” or “bloom” of youth, Art of Love, B. ii., l. 663: “And don’t you
inquire what year she is now passing, nor under what Consulship she
was born; a privilege which the rigid Censor possesses. And this,
especially, if she has passed the bloom of youth, and her best years are
fled, and she now pulls out the whitening hairs.”
54. Be my advocate)—Ver. 340. “Advocatus.” It must be remembered
that this word did not among the Romans bear the same sense as the

word “advocate” does with us. The “advocati” were the friends of a
man who accompanied him when his cause was pleaded, and often
performed the part of witnesses; those who assisted a person in a
dispute or difficulty were also his “advocati,” and in this respect
distantly resembled the “second” or “friend” of a party in the modern
duel. In the Phormio, Hegio, Cratinus, and Crito are introduced as the
“advocati” of Demipho. See also the Pænulus of Plautus, and the Notes
to that Play in Bohn’s Translation.
55. An hour elapsed)—Ver. 341. “Hora” is here used to signify the
long time, that, in his impatience, it appeared to him to be.
56. It’s all over with you,—you’ve said your last)—Ver. 347. “Ilicet”
and “conclamatnm est,” are words of mournful import, which were
used with regard to the funeral rites of the Romans. “Ilicet,” “you may
begone,” was said aloud when the funeral was concluded.
“Conclamare,” implied the ceremony of calling upon the dead person
by name, before light was act to the funeral pile; on no answer being
given, he was concluded to be really dead, and the pile was set fire to
amid the cries of those present: “conclamatum est” would
consequently signify that all hope has gone.
57. Thais the Courtesan)—Ver. 352. Cooke remarks here, somewhat
hypercritically as it would seem: “Thais is not called ‘meretrix’ here
opprobriously, but to distinguish her from other ladies of the same
name, who were not of the same profession.”
58. A Eunuch)—Ver. 356. Eunuchs formed part of the establishment of
wealthy persons, who, in imitation of the Eastern nobles, confided the
charge of their wives, daughters, or mistresses to them. Though Thais
would have no such necessity for his services, her wish to imitate the
“reginæ,” or “great ladies,” would make him a not unacceptable
present. See the Addresses of Ovid to the Eunuch Bagoüs in the
Amours, B. ii., El. 2, 3.
59. as she is reported to be)—Ver. 361. Donatus remarks this as an
instance of the art of Terence, in preserving the probability of Chærea’s
being received for the Eunuch. He shows hereby that he is so entirely a

stranger to the family that he does not even know the person of Thais.
It is also added that she has not been long in the neighborhood, and he
has been on duty at the Piraeus. The meaning of his regret is, that, not
knowing Thais, he will not have an opportunity of seeing the girl.
60. Have to pay the penalty)—Ver. 381. “In me cadetur faba,” literally,
“the bean will be struck” or “laid about me;” meaning, “I shall have to
smart for it.” There is considerable doubt what is the origin of this
expression, and this doubt existed as early as the time of Donatus. He
says that it was a proverb either taken from the threshing of beans with
a flail by the countrymen; or else from the circumstance of the cooks
who have dressed the beans, but have not moistened them sufficiently,
being sure to have them thrown at their heads, as though for the
purpose of softening them. Neither of these solutions seems so
probable as that suggested by Madame Dacier, that dried beans were
inserted in the thongs of the “scuticæ,” or “whips,” with which the
slaves were beaten. According to others the knots in the whips were
only called “fabæ,” from their resemblance to beans.
61. Is it disgraceful)—Ver. 382. Donatus remarks that here Terence
obliquely defends the subject of the Play.
62. The most mighty King)—Ver. 397. It has been suggested that
Darius III. is here alluded to, who was a contemporary of Menander.
As however Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, is mentioned in this Play, there is
no necessity to go out of the way to make Terence guilty of an
anachronism. Madame Dacier suggests that Seleucus, king of part of
Asia Minor, is meant; and as Thraso is called “a stranger” or
“foreigner” toward the end of the Play, he probably was intended to be
represented as a native of Asia and a subject of Seleucus. One of the
Seleuci was also favored with the services of Pyrgopolinices, the
“Braggart Captain” of Plantus, in the Miles Gloriosus. See l. 75 in that
Play: “For King Seleucus entreated me with most earnest suit that I
would raise and enlist recruits for him.”
63. You’ve just hit it)—Ver. 401. Colman here remarks, quoting the
following passage from Shakspeare’s “Love’s Labor Lost,” “That that
Poet was familiarly acquainted with this Comedy is evident from the

passage, ‘Holofernes says, Novi hominem tanquam te. His humor is
lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his
gait majestical, and his general behavior vain, ridiculous, and
Thrasonical.’” We may remark that the previous words of Gnatho,
though spoken with reference to the King, contain a reproach against
the Captain’s boastfulness, though his vanity will not let him perceive
it.
64. In his eye)—Ver. 401. “In oculis” is generally supposed to mean
“as dearly in his eyes.” As, however, the Satraps of the East were
called “the king’s eyes,” those who suppose that Darius is alluded to,
might with some ground consider the passage as meaning that the king
ranked him in the number of his nobles. See the Pænulus of Plautus,
l. 693, and the Note in Bohn’s Translation.
65. You understand)—Ver. 405. He says this at the very moment when
he is at a loss what to say next; the Parasite obligingly steps in to help
him out with the difficulty.
66. Indeed, of none)—Ver. 410. “Immo, nullorum arbitror, si tecum
vivit.” This expression which is used “aside,” has two meanings,
neither of which is complimentary to the Captain. It may mean, “he
has no society if he associates with you,” making the Captain
equivalent to nobody; or it may signify, “if he associates with you he’ll
be sure to drive all his other acquaintances away.”
67. Over the Indian elephants)—Ver. 413. Here he shows his lofty
position to perfection; he dares to take down the pride of one who
commanded even the royal elephants. The Braggart Captain of Plautus
comes into collision with the elephants themselves: l. 26. Artotrogus
says to him, “In what a fashion it was you broke the fore-leg of even
an elephant in India with your fist!”
68. Looking out for game?)—Ver. 426. “Pulmentum,” more strictly
speaking, “A nice bit.” Patrick has the following Note on this passage:
“‘Lepus tute es, et pulmentum quæris?’ A proverbial expression in use
at that time: the proper meaning of it, stripped of its figure, is, ‘You are
little more than a woman yourself, and do you want a mistress?’” We

learn from Donatus and Vopiscus, that Livius Andronicus had used this
proverb in his Plays before Terence. Commentators who enter into a
minute explanation of it offer many conjectures rather curious than
solid, and of a nature not fit to be mentioned here. Donatus seems to
think that allusion is made to a story prevalent among the ancient
naturalists that the hare was in the habit of changing its sex.
69. If, indeed, she loved me)—Ver. 446. Colman has the following
Note upon this passage: “I am at a loss to determine whether it was in
order to show the absurdity of the Captain or from inadvertence in the
Poet, that Terence here makes Thraso and Gnatho speak in
contradiction to the idea of Thais’s wonderful veneration for Thraso,
with which they opened the Scene.”
70. In exercises)—Ver. 477. Reference will be found made to the
“palæstræ,” or “places of exercise,” in the Notes to the Translation of
Plautus.
71. If occasion served)—Ver. 479. The Aposiopesis in this line is very
aptly introduced, on account of the presence of the female; but it
admirably illustrates the abominable turpitude of the speaker, and
perhaps in a somewhat more decent manner than that in which Plautus
attributes a similar tendency to his Braggart Captain, l. 1111.
72. Out of the very flames)—Ver. 491. This was a proverb expressive
of the lowest degree of meanness and infamy. When they burned the
bodies of the dead, it was the custom of the ancients to throw meat and
various articles of food upon the funeral pile, and it was considered the
greatest possible affront to tell a person that he was capable of
snatching these things out of the flames.
73. If Chremes should happen to come)—Ver. 513. This is the first
allusion to the arrangement which ultimately causes the quarrel
between Thais and the Captain.
74. Had been offering a sacrifice)—Ver. 513. It was the custom to
sacrifice before entering on affairs of importance. Thus, too, Jupiter, in
the Amphitryon of Plautus, l. 938, speaks of offering sacrifice on his
safe return.

75. Our rings were given)—Ver. 541. It was the custom of parties who
agreed to join in a “symbola,” or “club” or “picnic” entertainment, to
give their rings as pledges to the “rex convivii,” or “getter up the
feast.” Stakes were also deposited on making bets at races. See Ovid’s
Art of Love, B. i., l. 168.
76. To meet my death)—Ver. 550. There is a passage in the Othello of
Shakspeare extremely similar to this:
——“If I were now to die,
I were now to be most happy; for, I fear,
My soul hath her content so absolute,
That not another comfort, like to this,
Succeeds in unknown fate.”
77. In the inner apartments)—Ver. 579. The “Gynecæa,” or women’s
apartments, among the Greeks, always occupied the interior part of the
house, which was most distant from the street, and there they were
kept in great seclusion.
78. A few novices of girls)—Ver. 582. These “noviciæ” were young
slaves recently bought, and intended to be trained to the calling of a
Courtesan.
79. At a certain painting)—Ver. 584. See the story of Jupiter and
Danaë, the daughter of Acrisius, king of Argos, in the Metamorphoses
of Ovid, B. iv., l. 610. Pictures of Venus and Adonis, and of Jupiter and
Ganymede, are mentioned in the Menæchmi of Plautus; l. 144, and
paintings on the walls are also mentioned in the Mostellaria of Plantus,
l. 821, where Tranio tries to impose upon Theuropides by pretending to
point out a picture of a crow between two vultures.
80. How Jove)—Ver. 584. Donatus remarks here that this was “a very
proper piece of furniture for the house of a Courtesan, giving an
example of loose and mercenary love, calculated to excite wanton
thoughts, and at the same time hinting to the young lover that he must
make his way to the bosom of his mistress, like Jupiter to Danaë, in a
shower of gold. Oh the avarice of harlots!”

81. A poor creature of a mortal)—Ver. 591. “Homuncio.” He uses this
word the better to contrast his abject nature as a poor mortal with the
majesty of Jupiter. St. Augustin refers to this passage. The preceding
line is said by Donatus to be a parody on a passage by Ennius.
82. Take this fan)—Ver. 595. As to the fans of the ancients, see the
Trinummus of Plautus, l. 252, and the Note to the passage in Bohn’s
Translation. See also the Amours of Ovid, B. iii., El. 2, l. 38.
83. Chattered aloud)—Ver. 600. This line bears a strong resemblance
to two lines found in Anstey’s new Bath Guide:
“And how the young ladies all set up their clacks,
All the while an old woman was rubbing their backs.”
84. I slily looked askance)—Ver. 601. This way of looking aside,
“limis,” is mentioned in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, where
Milphidippa tells Acroteleutium to look at the Captain sideways,
“Aspicito limis,” l. 1217; also in the Bacchides, l. 1131. Those familiar
with the works of Hogarth will readily call to mind the picture of
Bedlam in the Rake’s Progress, whore the young woman is looking
askance through her fan at the madman in his cell.
85. Through the fan)—Ver. 602. This shows that the fan was probably
one made of thin boards, and not of feathers.
86. So short-lived)—Ver. 605. Colman has the following Note here:
“Short indeed, considering the number of incidents, which, according
to Chærea’s relation, are crowded into it. All the time allowed for this
adventure is the short space between the departure of Thais and Thraso
and the entrance of Chærea; so that all this variety of business of
sleeping, bathing, ravishing, &c., is dispatched during the two
soliloquies of Antipho and Chærea, and the short Scene between
Chremes and Pythias. The truth is, that a very close adherence to the
unities often drives the Poet into as great absurdities as the perfect
violation of them.”
87. Took off her golden jewels)—Ver. 627. This was probably because
it was contrary to the laws of Athens for a Courtesan to appear with
gold or jewels in the street. Madame Dacier suggests another reason, in

which there is some force, although it is ridiculed by Cooke. Thais
may have supposed that the Captain, when irritated, might not have
scrupled to take them away from her. Indeed, nothing would be more
probable, than that he would be ready to take them by way of security
for the return of the slave, whom he had thus, to no purpose, presented
to her. In reference to the preceding line, we may remark that it was
not customary among the Greeks for females of good character to
appear at table with strangers.
88. While I was going)—Ver. 629. Donatus remarks that here the Poet
artfully finds a reason to bring Phædria back again; as he at first with
equal art sent him out of the way, to give probability to those incidents
necessary to happen in his absence.
89. At a distance)—Ver. 640. “Extremâ lineâ.” There have been many
suggestions offered for the origin of this figurative expression. Some
suggest that it alludes to the last or lowest stage of the supposed ladder
of love; others that it refers to the first or elementary line traced by the
student, when beginning to learn the art of painting. It is however more
generally thought to be a metaphor taken from the chariot-races in the
Circus, where, in going round the turning-place, he who was nearest
was said “currere in primâ lineâ;” the next, “in secundâ;” and so on to
the last, who took the widest range, and was said to run “in extremâ
lineâ.”
90. In party-colored clothes)—Ver. 683. It was the custom to dress
Eunuchs in party-colored clothes of bright hue. Most probably it was
from them that the “motley” descended to the fools and buffoons of the
Middle Ages.
91. With a speckled complexion)—Ver. 689. “Colore stellionino;”
probably having spots or freckles on his face like a “stellio” or
“lizard.”
92. Have done a service to her)—Ver. 722. Though some would have
“illi” here to refer to the damsel, and others again to Phædria, it is
pretty clear that Madame Dacier is right in suggesting that Thais is the
person meant.

93. Casket with the tokens)—Ver. 752. It was the custom with the
ancients when they exposed their children, to leave with them some
pledge or token of value, that they might afterward be recognized by
means of them. The catastrophes of the Curculio, the Rudens, and
other Plays of Plautus, are brought about by taking advantage of this
circumstance. The reasons for using these tokens will be stated in a
future Note.
94. Is a foreigner)—Ver. 758. And therefore the more unlikely to
obtain redress from an Athenian tribunal. See the Andria, l. 811, and
the Note to the passage.
95. And his maniple)—Ver. 775. We learn from the Fasti of Ovid, B.
iii., l. 117-8, that in early times the Roman armies carried bundles or
wisps of hay upon poles by way of standards. “A long pole used to
bear the elevated wisps, from which circumstance the manipular
soldier derives his name.” It appears from this passage, and from other
authors, that to every troop of one hundred men a “manipulus” or wisp
of hay (so called from “manum implere,” to “fill the hand,” as being “a
handful”), was assigned as a standard, and hence in time the company
itself obtained the name of “manipulus,” and the soldier, a member of
it, was called “manipularis.” The “centurio,” or “leader of a hundred,”
was the commanding officer of the “manipulus.”
96. With a dish-clout)—Ver. 776. “Peniculo.” This word meant a
sponge fastened to a stick, or the tail of a fox or an ox, which was used
as dusters or dish-clouts are at the present day for cleaning tables,
dishes, or even shoes. See the Menæchmi of Plautus, ver. 77 and 391.
97. Be behind the second rank)—Ver. 780. “Post principia.” The
Captain, with that discretion which is the better part of valor, chooses
the safest place in his army. The “principes” originally fought in the
van, fronting the enemy, and behind them were the “hastati” and the
“triarii.” In later times the “hastati” faced the enemy, and the
“principes” were placed in the middle, between them and the “triarii;”
but though no longer occupying the front place, they still retained the
name. Thraso, then, places himself behind the middle line.

98. Pyrrhus used to proceed)—Ver. 782. He attempts to defend his
cowardice by the example of Pyrrhus, the powerful antagonist of the
Romans, and one of the greatest generals of antiquity. He might have
more correctly cited the example of Xerxes, who, according to Justin,
did occupy that position in his army.
99. I could very much)—Ver. 785. Although Vollbehr gives these
words to Gnatho, yet, judging from the context, and the words “ex
occulto,” and remembering that Thais and Chremes are up at the
window, there is the greatest probability that these are really the words
of Thais addressed aside to Chremes.
100. You gallows-bird)—Ver. 797. “Furcifer;” literally, “bearer of the
furca.”
101. As befits gallant soldiers)—Ver. 814. Beaumont and Fletcher not
improbably had this scene in view in their picture of the mob regiment
in Philaster. The ragged regiment which Shakspeare places under the
command of Falstaff was not very unlike it, nor that which owned the
valiant Bombastes Furioso as its Captain.
102. At Antipho’s)—Ver. 839. Madame Dacier here observes that
Chærea assigns very natural reasons for not having changed his dress;
in which the art of Terence is evident, since the sequel of the Play
makes it absolutely necessary that Chærea should appear again before
Thais in the habit which he wore while in the house.
103. Pick daintily about)—Ver. 935. He seems here to reprehend the
same practice against which Ovid warns his fair readers, in his Art of
Love, B. iii. l. 75. He says, “Do not first take food at home,” when
about to go to an entertainment. Westerhovius seems to think that
“ligurio” means, not to “pick daintily,” but “to be fond of good
eating;” and refers to the Bacchides of Plautus as portraying courtesans
of the “ligurient” kind, and finds another specimen in Bacchis in the
Heautontimorumenos.
104. This advantage)—Ver. 970. Donatus here observes that the Poet
introduces Laches, as he has Parmeno just before, in a state of perfect

tranquillity, that their sudden change of feeling may be the more
diverting to the Audience.
105. For some occasion)—Ver. 999. We learn from Donatus that
Menander was more explicit concerning the resentment of Laches
against Thais, on account of her having corrupted Phædria.
106. As I knew)—Ver. 1003. She enjoyed it the more, knowing that the
old man had nothing to fear, as he had just heard the fiction which she
had imparted to Parmeno. Donatus observes that the terror of Laches
accounts for his sudden consent to the union of Chærea with Pamphila;
for though he could not settle the matter any other way with credit, he
was glad to find that his son had made an unequal match rather than
endangered his life. Colman, however, observes with considerable
justice: “I think Chærea apologizes still better for this arrangement in
the Scene with Thais at the opening of this Act, where he says that he
is confident of obtaining his father’s consent, provided Pamphila
proves to be a citizen; and, indeed, the match between them is rather a
reparation of an injury done to her than a degradation of himself.”
107. In return for that present of yours)—Ver. 1022. By the present she
means Chærea in the disguise of the Eunuch.
108. Through betrayal of myself)—Ver. 1023. Which betrays itself by
its own squeaking.
109. Hercules served Omphale)—Ver. 1026. He alludes to the story of
Omphale, Queen of Lydia, and Hercules. Being violently in love with
her, the hero laid aside his club and boar’s skin, and in the habit of a
woman plied the spindle and distaff with her maids. See a curious
story of Omphale, Hercules, and Faunus, in the Fasti of Ovid, B. ii. l.
305. As to the reappearance of Thraso here, Colman has the following
remarks: “Thraso, says Donatus, is brought back again in order to be
admitted to some share in the good graces of Thais, that he may not be
made unhappy at the end of the Play; but surely it is an essential part
of the poetical justice of Comedy to expose coxcombs to ridicule and
to punish them, though without any shocking severity, for their
follies.”

110. With a slipper)—Ver. 1027. He doubtless alludes to the treatment
of Hercules by Omphale; and, according to Lucian, there was a story
that Omphale used to beat him with her slipper or sandal. On that
article of dress, see the Notes to the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 252.
111. To the patronage of my father)—Ver. 1038. It was the custom at
Athens for strangers, such as Thais was, to put themselves under the
protection (in clientelam) of some wealthy citizen, who, as their
patron, was bound to protect them against injury. An exactly parallel
case to the present is found in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, l. 799,
where the wealthy Periplecomenus says, “Habeo, eccillam, meam
clientam, meretricem adolescentulam.” “Why, look, I have one,
a dependent of mine, a courtesan, a very young woman.”
112. Been rolling that stone)—Ver. 1084. Donatus thinks that he
alludes to the story of Sisyphus, who, in the Infernal Regions, was
condemned eternally to roll a stone up a hill, which, on arriving at the
summit, immediately fell to the bottom.
113. Make him over to you)—Ver. 1086. “Vobis propino.” The word
“propino” was properly applied to the act of tasting a cup of wine, and
then handing it to another; he means that he has had his taste of the
Captain, and is now ready to hand him over to them.
114. He quite deserves it)—Ver. 1087. Cooke has the following
appropriate remark: “I can not think that this Play, excellent as it is in
almost all other respects, concludes consistently with the manners of
gentlemen; there is a meanness in Phædria and Chærea consenting to
take Thraso into their society, with a view of fleecing him, which the
Poet should have avoided.”

HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS;
THE SELF-TORMENTOR.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Chremes,1 an old gentleman, living in the country.
Menedemus,2 an old gentleman, his neighbor.
Clinia,3 son of Menedemus.
Clitipho,4 son of Chremes.
Dromo,5 son of Clinia.
Syrus,6 servant of Clitipho.
Sostrata,7 wife of Chremes.
Antiphila,8 a young woman beloved by Clinia.
Bacchis,9 a Courtesan, the mistress of Clitipho.
The Nurse of Antiphila.
Phrygia,10 maid-servant to Bacchis.

Scene.—In the country, near Athens; before the houses of Chremes and
Menedemus.

T H E S U B J E C T.

Chremes commands his wife, when pregnant, if she is delivered of a girl
immediately to kill the child. Having given birth to a girl, Sostrata delivers

her to an old woman named Philtera to be exposed. Instead of doing this,
Philtera calls her Antiphila, and brings her up as her own. Clinia, the son of
Menedemus, falls in love with her, and treats her as though his wife.
Menedemus, on learning this, is very angry, and by his harsh language
drives away his son from home. Taking this to heart, and in order to punish
himself for his ill-timed severity, Menedemus, though now an aged man,
fatigues himself by laboring at agricultural pursuits from morning till night.
At the period when the Play commences, Clinia has just returned to Attica,
but not daring to go to his father’s house, is entertained by Clitipho, the son
of Chremes, who is the neighbor of Menedemus. Clitipho then sends for
Antiphila, whose supposed mother has recently died, to come and meet her
lover. On the same day, Chremes learns from Menedemus how anxious he
is for his son’s return; and on hearing from his son of the arrival of Clinia,
he defers informing Menedemus of it until the next day. Syrus, the servant
who has been sent to fetch Antiphila, also brings with him Bacchis, an
extravagant Courtesan, the mistress of Clitipho. To conceal the truth from
Chremes, they represent to him that Bacchis is the mistress of Clinia, and
that Antiphila is one of her maids. Next morning Chremes informs
Menedemus of his son’s arrival, and of the extravagant conduct of his
mistress, but begs that he will conceal from Clinia his knowledge of this
fact. Bacchis requiring ten minæ, Syrus devises a plan for obtaining the
money from Chremes, while the latter is encouraging him to think of a
project against Menedemus. Syrus tells him a story, that the mother of
Antiphila had borrowed a thousand drachmæ of Bacchis, and being dead,
the girl is left in her hands as a pledge for the money. While these things are
going on, Sostrata discovers in Antiphila her own daughter. In order to
obtain the money which Bacchis persists in demanding, Syrus suggests to
Chremes that it should be represented to Menedemus that Bacchis is the
mistress of Clitipho, and that he should be requested to conceal her in his
house for a few days; it is also arranged that Clinia shall pretend to his
father to be in love with Antiphila, and to beg her as his wife. He is then to
ask for money, as though for the wedding, which is to be handed over to
Bacchis. Chremes does not at first approve of the plan suggested by Syrus;
but he pays down the money for which he has been informed his daughter is
a pledge in the hands of Bacchis. This, with his knowledge, is given to
Clitipho, who, as Syrus says, is to convey it to Bacchis, who is now in the

house of Menedemus, to make the latter more readily believe that she is his
mistress. Shortly after this, the plot is discovered by Chremes, who
threatens to punish Clitipho and Syrus. The Play concludes with Chremes
giving his consent to the marriage of Clinia with Antiphila, and pardoning
Clitipho, who promises to abandon the Courtesan, and marry. Unlike the
other Plays of Terence and Plautus, the Plot of this Play extends over two
days.

T H E T I T L E O F T H E P L A Y.

It is from the Greek of Menander. Performed at the Megalensian Games;
Lucius Cornelius Lentulus and Lucius Valerius Flaccus being Curule
Ædiles. Ambivius Turpio performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius,
composed the music. The first time it was performed to the music of treble
and bass flutes; the second time, of two treble flutes. It was acted three
times; Marcus Juventius and Titus Sempronius being Consuls.11

HEAUTONTIMORUMENOS;
THE SELF-TORMENTOR.

THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.
A severe father compels his son Clinia, in love with Antiphila, to go abroad
to the wars; and repenting of what has been done, torments himself in mind.
Afterward, when he has returned, unknown to his father, he is entertained at
the house of Clitipho. The latter is in love with Bacchis, a Courtesan. When
Clinia sends for his much-loved Antiphila, Bacchis comes, as though his
mistress, and Antiphila, wearing the garb of her servant; this is done in
order that Clitipho may conceal it from his father. He, through the
stratagems of Syrus, gets ten minæ from the old man for the Courtesan.
Antiphila is discovered to be the sister of Clitipho. Clinia receives her, and
Clitipho, another woman, for his wife.

THE PROLOGUE.
Lest it should be a matter of surprise to any one of you, why the Poet has
assigned to an old man12 a part that belongs to the young, that I will first
explain to you;13 and then, the reason for my coming I will disclose. An
entire Play from an entire Greek one,14 the Heautontimorumenos, I am to-
day about to represent, which from a two-fold plot15 has been made but
one. I have shown that it is new, and what it is: next I would mention who it

was that wrote it, and whose in Greek it is, if I did not think that the greater
part of you are aware. Now, for what reason I have learned this part, in a
few words I will explain. The Poet intended me to be a Pleader,16 not the
Speaker of a Prologue; your decision he asks, and has appointed me the
advocate; if this advocate can avail as much by his oral powers as he has
excelled in inventing happily, who composed this speech which I am about
to recite. For as to malevolent rumors spreading abroad that he has mixed
together many Greek Plays while writing a few Latin ones, he does not
deny that this is the case, and that he does not repent of so doing; and he
affirms that he will do so again. He has the example of good Poets; after
which example he thinks it is allowable for him to do what they have done.
Then, as to a malevolent old Poet17 saying that he has suddenly applied
himself to dramatic pursuits, relying on the genius of his friends,18 and not
his own natural abilities; on that your judgment, your opinion, will prevail.
Wherefore I do entreat you all, that the suggestions of our antagonists may
not avail more than those of our favorers. Do you be favorable; grant the
means of prospering to those who afford you the means of being spectators
of new Plays; those, I mean, without faults: that he may not suppose this
said in his behalf who lately made the public give way to a slave as he ran
along in the street;19 why should he take a madman’s part? About his faults
he will say more when he brings out some other new ones, unless he puts an
end to his caviling. Attend with favorable feelings; grant me the opportunity
that I may be allowed to act a quiet Play20 in silence; that the servant
everlastingly running about, the angry old man, the gluttonous parasite, the
impudent sharper, and the greedy procurer, may not have always to be
performed by me with the utmost expense of voice, and the greatest
exertion. For my sake come to the conclusion that this request is fair, that so
some portion of my labor may be abridged. For nowadays, those who write
new Plays do not spare an aged man. If there is any piece requiring
exertion, they come running to me; but if it is a light one, it is taken to
another Company. In the present one the style is pure. Do you make proof,
what, in each character,21 my ability can effect. If I have never greedily set
a high price upon my skill, and have come to the conclusion that this is my
greatest gain, as far as possible to be subservient to your convenience,

establish in me a precedent, that the young may be anxious rather to please
you than themselves.

ACT THE FIRST.
Scene I.

Enter Chremes, and Menedemus with a spade in his hand, who falls to
digging.
Chrem. Although this acquaintanceship between us is of very recent date,
from the time in fact of your purchasing an estate here in the neighborhood,
yet either your good qualities, or our being neighbors (which I take to be a
sort of friendship), induces me to inform you, frankly and familiarly, that
you appear to me to labor beyond your years, and beyond what your affairs
require. For, in the name of Gods and men, what would you have? What can
be your aim? You are, as I conjecture, sixty years of age, or more. No man
in these parts has a better or a more valuable estate, no one more servants;
and yet you discharge their duties just as diligently as if there were none at
all. However early in the morning I go out, and however late in the evening
I return home, I see you either digging, or plowing, or doing something, in
fact, in the fields. You take respite not an instant, and are quite regardless of
yourself. I am very sure that this is not done for your amusement. But really
I am vexed how little work is done here.22 If you were to employ the time
you spend in laboring yourself, in keeping your servants at work, you
would profit much more.
Men. Have you so much leisure, Chremes, from your own affairs, that you
can attend to those of others—those which don’t concern you?
Chrem. I am a man,23 and nothing that concerns a man do I deem a matter
of indifference to me. Suppose that I wish either to advise you in this
matter, or to be informed myself: if what you do is right, that I may do the
same; if it is not, then that I may dissuade you.

Men. It’s requisite for me to do so; do you as it is necessary for you to do.
Chrem. Is it requisite for any person to torment himself?
Men. It is for me.
Chrem. If you have any affliction, I could wish it otherwise. But prithee,
what sorrow is this of yours? How have you deserved so ill of yourself?
Men. Alas! alas! (He begins to weep.)
Chrem. Do not weep, but make me acquainted with it, whatever it is. Do not
be reserved; fear nothing; trust me, I tell you. Either by consolation, or by
counsel, or by any means, I will aid you.
Men. Do you wish to know this matter?
Chrem. Yes, and for the reason I mentioned to you.
Men. I will tell you.
Chrem. But still, in the mean time, lay down that rake; don’t fatigue
yourself.
Men. By no means.
Chrem. What can be your object? (Tries to take the rake from him.)
Men. Do leave me alone, that I may give myself no respite from my labor.
Chrem. I will not allow it, I tell you. (Taking the rake from him.)
Men. Ah! that’s not fair.
Chrem. (poising the rake.) Whew! such a heavy one as this, pray!
Men. Such are my deserts.
Chrem. Now speak. (Laying down the rake.)
Men. I have an only son,—a young man,—alas! why did I say—“I
have?”—rather I should say, “I had” one, Chremes:—whether I have him
now, or not, is uncertain.
Chrem. Why so?

Men. You shall know:—There is a poor old woman here, a stranger from
Corinth:—her daughter, a young woman, he fell in love with, insomuch that
he almost regarded her as his wife; all this took place unknown to me.
When I discovered the matter, I began to reprove him, not with gentleness,
nor in the way suited to the love-sick mind of a youth, but with violence,
and after the usual method of fathers. I was daily reproaching him,—“Look
you, do you expect to be allowed any longer to act thus, myself, your father,
being alive; to be keeping a mistress pretty much as though your wife? You
are mistaken, Clinia, and you don’t know me, if you fancy that. I am willing
that you should be called my son, just as long as you do what becomes you;
but if you do not do so, I shall find out how it becomes me to act toward
you. This arises from nothing, in fact, but too much idleness. At your time
of life, I did not devote my time to dalliance, but, in consequence of my
poverty, departed hence for Asia, and there acquired in arms both riches and
military glory.” At length the matter came to this,—the youth, from hearing
the same things so often, and with such severity, was overcome. He
supposed that I, through age and affection, had more judgment and
foresight for him than himself. He went off to Asia, Chremes, to serve under
the king.
Chrem. What is it you say?
Men. He departed without my knowledge—and has been gone these three
months.
Chrem. Both are to be blamed—although I still think this step shows an
ingenuous and enterprising disposition.
Men. When I learned this from those who were in the secret, I returned
home sad, and with feelings almost overwhelmed and distracted through
grief. I sit down; my servants run to me; they take off my shoes:24 then
some make all haste to spread the couches,25 and to prepare a repast; each
according to his ability did zealously what he could, in order to alleviate my
sorrow. When I observed this, I began to reflect thus:—“What! are so many
persons anxious for my sake alone, to pleasure myself only? Are so many
female servants to provide me with dress?26 Shall I alone keep up such an
expensive establishment, while my only son, who ought equally, or even
more so, to enjoy these things—inasmuch as his age is better suited for the

enjoyment of them—him, poor youth, have I driven away from home by my
severity! Were I to do this, really I should deem myself deserving of any
calamity. But so long as he leads this life of penury, banished from his
country through my severity, I will revenge his wrongs upon myself,
toiling, making money, saving, and laying up for him.” At once I set about
it; I left nothing in the house, neither movables27 nor clothing; every thing I
scraped together. Slaves, male and female, except those who could easily
pay for their keep by working in the country, all of them I set up to auction
and sold. I at once put up a bill to sell my house.28 I collected somewhere
about fifteen talents, and purchased this farm; here I fatigue myself. I have
come to this conclusion, Chremes, that I do my son a less injury, while I am
unhappy; and that it is not right for me to enjoy any pleasure here, until
such time as he returns home safe to share it with me.
Chrem. I believe you to be of an affectionate disposition toward your
children,29 and him to be an obedient son, if one were to manage him
rightly or prudently. But neither did you understand him sufficiently well,
nor he you—a thing that happens where persons don’t live on terms of
frankness together. You never showed him how highly you valued him, nor
did he ever dare put that confidence in you which is due to a father. Had this
been done, these troubles would never have befallen you.
Men. Such is the fact, I confess; the greatest fault is on my side.
Chrem. But still, Menedemus, I hope for the best, and I trust that he’ll be
here safe before long.
Men. Oh that the Gods would grant it!
Chrem. They will do so. Now, if it is convenient to you—the festival of
Bacchus30 is being kept here to-day—I wish you to give me your company.
Men. I can not.
Chrem. Why not? Do, pray, spare yourself a little while. Your absent son
would wish you do so.
Men. It is not right that I, who have driven him hence to endure hardships,
should now shun them myself.
Chrem. Is such your determination?

Men. It is.
Chrem. Then kindly fare you well.
Men. And you the same.
( Goes into his house.)

Scene II.

Chremes, alone.
Chrem. (to himself.) He has forced tears from me, and I do pity him. But as
the day is far gone, I must remind Phania, this neighbor of mine, to come to
dinner. I’ll go see whether he is at home. (Goes to Phania’s door, makes the
inquiry, and returns.) There was no occasion for me to remind him: they tell
me he has been some time already at my house; it’s I myself am making my
guests wait. I’ll go in-doors immediately. But what means the noise at the
door of my house? I wonder who’s coming out! I’ll step aside here.
( He stands aside.)

Scene III.

Enter Clitipho, from the house of Chremes.
Clit. (at the door, to Clinia within.) There is nothing, Clinia, for you to fear
as yet: they have not been long by any means: and I am sure that she will be
with you presently along with the messenger. Do at once dismiss these
causeless apprehensions which are tormenting you.
Chrem. (apart.) Who is my son talking to?
( Makes his appearance.)
Clit. (to himself.) Here comes my father, whom I wished to see: I’ll accost
him. Father, you have met me opportunely.
Chrem. What is the matter?

Clit. Do you know this neighbor of ours, Menedemus?
Chrem. Very well.
Clit. Do you know that he has a son?
Chrem. I have heard that he has; in Asia.
Clit. He is not in Asia, father; he is at our house.
Chrem. What is it you say?
Clit. Upon his arrival, after he had just landed from the ship, I immediately
brought him to dine with us; for from our very childhood upward I have
always been on intimate terms with him.
Chrem. You announce to me a great pleasure. How much I wish that
Menedemus had accepted my invitation to make one of us: that at my house
I might have been the first to surprise him, when not expecting it, with this
delight!—and even yet there’s time enough——
Clit. Take care what you do; there is no necessity, father, for doing so.
Chrem. For what reason?
Clit. Why, because he is as yet undetermined what to do with himself. He is
but just arrived. He fears every thing; his father’s displeasure, and how his
mistress may be disposed toward him. He loves her to distraction: on her
account, this trouble and going abroad took place.
Chrem. I know it.
Clit. He has just sent a servant into the city to her, and I ordered our Syrus
to go with him.
Chrem. What does Clinia say?
Clit. What does he say? That he is wretched.
Chrem. Wretched? Whom could we less suppose so? What is there wanting
for him to enjoy every thing that among men, in fact, are esteemed as
blessings? Parents, a country in prosperity, friends, family, relations, riches?
And yet, all these are just according to the disposition of him who possesses

them. To him who knows how to use them, they are blessings; to him who
does not use them rightly, they are evils.
Clit. Aye, but he always was a morose old man; and now I dread nothing
more, father, than that in his displeasure he’ll be doing something to him
more than is justifiable.
Chrem. What, he? (Aside.) But I’ll restrain myself; for that the other one
should be in fear of his father is of service to him.31
Clit. What is it you are saying to yourself!
Chrem. I’ll tell you. However the case stood, Clinia ought still to have
remained at home. Perhaps his father was a little stricter than he liked: he
should have put up with it. For whom ought he to bear with, if he would not
bear with his own father? Was it reasonable that he should live after his
son’s humor, or his son after his? And as to charging him with harshness, it
is not the fact. For the severities of fathers are generally of one character,
those I mean who are in some degree reasonable men.32 They do not wish
their sons to be always wenching; they do not wish them to be always
carousing; they give a limited allowance; and yet all this tends to virtuous
conduct. But when the mind, Clitipho, has once enslaved itself by vicious
appetites, it must of necessity follow similar pursuits. This is a wise maxim,
“to take warning from others of what may be to your own advantage.”
Clit. I believe so.
Chrem. I’ll now go hence in-doors, to see what we have for dinner. Do you,
seeing what is the time of day, mind and take care not to be any where out
of the way.
( Goes into his house, and exit Clitipho.)

ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.

Enter Clitipho.
Clit. (to himself.) What partial judges are all fathers in regard to all of us
young men, in thinking it reasonable for us to become old men all at once
from boys, and not to participate in those things which youth is naturally
inclined to. They regulate us by their own desires,—such as they now are,
—not as they once were. If ever I have a son, he certainly shall find in me
an indulgent father. For the means both of knowing and of pardoning33 his
faults shall be found by me; not like mine, who by means of another person,
discloses to me his own sentiments. I’m plagued to death,—when he drinks
a little more than usual, what pranks of his own he does relate to me! Now
he says, “Take warning from others of what may be to your advantage.”
How shrewd! He certainly does not know how deaf I am at the moment
when he’s telling his stories. Just now, the words of my mistress make more
impression upon me. “Give me this, and bring me that,” she cries; I have
nothing to say to her in answer, and no one is there more wretched than
myself. But this Clinia, although he, as well, has cares enough of his own,
still has a mistress of virtuous and modest breeding, and a stranger to the
arts of a courtesan. Mine is a craving, saucy, haughty, extravagant creature,
full of lofty airs. Then all that I have to give her is—fair words34—for I
make it a point not to tell her that I have nothing. This misfortune I met
with not long since, nor does my father as yet know any thing of the matter.
( Exit.)

Scene II.

Enter Clinia from the house of Chremes.
Clin. (to himself.) If my love-affairs had been prosperous for me, I am sure
she would have been here by this; but I’m afraid that the damsel has been
led astray here in my absence. Many things combine to strengthen this
opinion in my mind; opportunity, the place, her age, a worthless mother,
under whose control she is, with whom nothing but gain is precious.
( Enter Clitipho.)

Clit. Clinia!
Clin. Alas! wretched me!
Clit. Do, pray, take care that no one coming out of your father’s house sees
you here by accident.
Clin. I will do so; but really my mind presages I know not what misfortune.
Clit. Do you persist in making up your mind upon that, before you know
what is the fact?
Clin. Had no misfortune happened, she would have been here by this.
Clit. She’ll be here presently.
Clin. When will that presently be?
Clit. You don’t consider that it is a great way from here.35 Besides, you
know the ways of women, while they are bestirring themselves, and while
they are making preparations a whole year passes by.
Clin. O Clitipho, I’m afraid—
Clit. Take courage. Look, here comes Dromo, together with Syrus: they are
close at hand.
( They stand aside.)

Scene III.

Enter Syrus and Dromo, conversing at a distance.
Syr. Do you say so?
Dro. ’Tis as I told you,—but in the mean time, while we’ve been carrying
on our discourse, these women have been left behind.
Clit. (apart.) Don’t you hear, Clinia? Your mistress is close at hand.
Clin. (apart.) Why yes, I do hear now at last, and I see and revive, Clitipho.
Dro. No wonder; they are so encumbered; they are bringing a troop of
female attendants36 with them.

Clin. (apart.) I’m undone! Whence come these female attendants?
Clit. (apart.) Do you ask me?
Syr. We ought not to have left them; what a quantity of things they are
bringing!
Clin. (apart.) Ah me!
Syr. Jewels of gold, and clothes; it’s growing late too, and they don’t know
the way. It was very foolish of us to leave them. Just go back, Dromo, and
meet them. Make haste—why do you delay?
( Exit Dromo.)
Clin. (apart.) Woe unto wretched me!—from what high hopes am I fallen!
Clit. (apart.) What’s the matter? Why, what is it that troubles you?
Clin. (apart.) Do you ask what it is? Why, don’t you see? Attendants,
jewels of gold, and clothes, her too, whom I left here with only one little
servant girl. Whence do you suppose that they come?
Clit. (apart.) Oh! now at last I understand you.
Syr. (to himself.) Good Gods! what a multitude there is! Our house will
hardly hold them, I’m sure. How much they will eat! how much they will
drink! what will there be more wretched than our old gentleman? (Catching
sight of Clinia and Clitipho.) But look, I espy the persons I was wanting.
Clin. (apart.) Oh Jupiter! Why, where is fidelity gone? While I, distractedly
wandering, have abandoned my country for your sake, you, in the mean
time, Antiphila, have been enriching yourself, and have forsaken me in
these troubles, you for whose sake I am in extreme disgrace, and have been
disobedient to my father; on whose account I am now ashamed and grieved,
that he who used to lecture me about the manners of these women, advised
me in vain, and was not able to wean me away from her:—which, however,
I shall now do; whereas when it might have been advantageous to me to do
so, I was unwilling. There is no being more wretched than I.
Syr. (to himself.) He certainly has been misled by our words which we have
been speaking here. (Aloud.) Clinia, you imagine your mistress quite
different from what she really is. For both her mode of life is the same, and

her disposition toward you is the same as it always was; so far as we could
form a judgment from the circumstances themselves.
Clin. How so, prithee? For nothing in the world could I rather wish for just
now, than that I have suspected this without reason.
Syr. This, in the first place, then (that you may not be ignorant of any thing
that concerns her); the old woman, who was formerly said to be her mother,
was not so.—She is dead: this I overheard by accident from her, as we came
along, while she was telling the other one.
Clit. Pray, who is the other one?
Syr. Stay; what I have begun I wish first to relate. Clitipho; I shall come to
that afterward.
Clit. Make haste, then.
Syr. First of all, then, when we came to the house, Dromo knocked at the
door; a certain old woman came out; when she opened the door, he directly
rushed in; I followed; the old woman bolted the door, and returned to her
wool. On this occasion might be known, Clinia, or else on none, in what
pursuits she passed her life during your absence; when we thus came upon a
female unexpectedly. For this circumstance then gave us an opportunity of
judging of the course of her daily life; a thing which especially discovers
what is the disposition of each individual. We found her industriously
plying at the web; plainly clad in a mourning dress,37 on account of this old
woman, I suppose, who was lately dead; without golden ornaments,
dressed, besides, just like those who only dress for themselves, and patched
up with no worthless woman’s trumpery.38 Her hair was loose, long, and
thrown back negligently about her temples. (To Clinia.) Do you hold your
peace.39
Clin. My dear Syrus, do not without cause throw me into ecstasies,
I beseech you.
Syr. The old woman was spinning the woof:40 there was one little servant
girl besides;—she was weaving41 together with them, covered with patched
clothes, slovenly, and dirty with filthiness.

Clit. If this is true, Clinia, as I believe it is, who is there more fortunate
than you? Do you mark this girl whom he speaks of, as dirty and drabbish?
This, too, is a strong indication that the mistress is out of harm’s way, when
her confidant is in such ill plight; for it is a rule with those who wish to gain
access to the mistress, first to bribe the maid.
Clin. (to Syrus.) Go on, I beseech you; and beware of endeavoring to
purchase favor by telling an untruth. What did she say, when you mentioned
me?
Syr. When we told her that you had returned, and had requested her to
come to you, the damsel instantly put away the web, and covered her face
all over with tears; so that you might easily perceive that it really was
caused by her affection for you.
Clin. So may the Deities bless me, I know not where I am for joy! I was so
alarmed before.
Clit. But I was sure that there was no reason, Clinia. Come now, Syrus, tell
me, in my turn, who this other lady is.
Syr. Your Bacchis, whom we are bringing.42
Clit. Ha! What! Bacchis? How now, you rascal! whither are you bringing
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 great and memorable action is done without some risk.
Clit. Look now; are you seeking to gain credit for yourself, at the hazard of
my character, you rascal, in a point, where, if you only make the slightest
slip, I am ruined? What would you be doing with 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. Plague on it, what roundabout story is he beginning to tell me?
Clin. Syrus, he says what’s right—do omit digressions; come to the point.
Syr. Really I can not hold my tongue. Clitipho, you are every way unjust,
and can not possibly be endured.
Clin. Upon my faith, he ought to have a hearing. (To Clitipho.) Do be
silent.
Syr. You wish to indulge in your amours; you wish to possess your
mistress; you wish that to be procured wherewithal to make her presents; in
getting this, you do not wish the risk to be your own. You are not wise to no
purpose,—if indeed it is being wise to wish for that which can not happen.
Either the one must be had with the other, or the one must be let alone with
the other. Now, of these two alternatives, consider which one you would
prefer; although this project which I have formed, I know to be both a wise
and a safe one. For there is an opportunity for your mistress to be with you
at your father’s house, without fear of a discovery; besides, by these self-
same means, I shall find the money which you have promised her—to effect
which, you have already made my ears deaf with entreating me. What
would you have more?
Clit. If, indeed, this could be brought about—
Syr. If, indeed? You shall know it by experience.
Clit. Well, well, disclose this project of yours. What is it?
Syr. We will pretend that your mistress is his (pointing to Clinia).
Clit. Very fine! Tell me, what is he to do with his own? Is she, too, to be
called his, as if one was not a sufficient discredit?
Syr. No—she shall be taken to your mother.

Clit. Why there?
Syr. It would be tedious, Clitipho, if I were to tell you why I do so; I have a
good reason.
Clit. Stuff! I see no grounds sufficiently solid why it should be for my
advantage to incur this risk.43 (Turning as if going.)
Syr. Stay; if there is this risk, I have another project, which you must both
confess to be free from danger.
Clit. Find out something of that description, I beseech you.
Syr. By all means; I’ll go meet her, and tell her to return home.
Clit. Ha! what was it you said?
Syr. I’ll rid you at once of all fears, so that you may sleep at your ease upon
either ear.44
Clit. What am I to do now?
Clin. What are you to do? The goods that—
Clit. Only tell me the truth, Syrus.
Syr. Dispatch quickly; you’ll be wishing just now too late and in vain.
(Going.)
Clin. The Gods provide, enjoy while yet you may; for you know not—
Clit. (calling.) Syrus, I say!
Syr. (moving on.) Go on; I shall still do that which I said.45
Clin. Whether you may have another opportunity hereafter or ever again.
Clit. I’faith, that’s true. (Calling.) Syrus, Syrus, I say, harkye, harkye,
Syrus!
Syr. (aside.) He warms a little. (To Clitipho.) What is it you want?
Clit. Come back, come back.
Syr. (coming back to him.) Here I am; tell me what you would have. You’ll
be presently saying that this, too, doesn’t please you.

Clit. Nay, Syrus, I commit myself, and my love, and my reputation entirely
to you: you are the seducer; take care you don’t deserve any blame.
Syr. It is ridiculous for you to give me that caution, Clitipho, as if my
interest was less at stake in this affair than yours. Here, if any ill luck
should perchance befall us, words will be in readiness for you, but for this
individual blows (pointing to himself.) For that reason, this matter is by no
means to be neglected on my part: but do prevail upon him (pointing to
Clinia) to pretend that she is his own 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.
Clin. But she mustn’t be tripping at all.
Syr. She is thoroughly tutored in her part.
Clit. But this I wonder at, how you could so easily prevail upon her, who is
wont to treat such great people46 with scorn.
Syr. I came to her at the proper moment, which in all things is of the first
importance: for there I found a certain wretched captain soliciting her
favors: she artfully managed the man, so as to inflame his eager passions by
denial; and this, too, that it might be especially pleasing to yourself. But
hark you, take care, will you, not to be imprudently impetuous. You know
your father, how quick-sighted he is in these matters; and I know you, how
unable you are to command yourself. Keep clear of words of double
meaning,47 your sidelong looks, sighing, hemming, coughing, tittering.
Clit. You shall have to commend me.
Syr. Take care of that, please.
Clit. You yourself shall be surprised at me.
Syr. But how quickly the ladies have come up with us!
Clit. Where are they? (Syrus stands before him.) Why do you hold me
back?
Syr. For the present she is nothing to you.

Clit. I know it, before my father; but now in the mean time—
Syr. Not a bit the more.
Clit. Do let me.
Syr. I will not let you, I tell you.
Clit. But only for a moment, pray.
Syr. I forbid it.
Clit. Only to salute her.
Syr. If you are wise, get you gone.
Clit. I’m off. But what’s he to do? (Pointing at Clinia.)
Syr. He will stay here.
Clit. O happy man!
Syr. Take yourself off.
( Exit Clitipho.)

Scene IV.

Enter Bacchis and Antiphila at a distance.
Bacchis. Upon my word, my dear Antiphila, I commend you, and think you
fortunate in having made it your study that your manners should be
conformable to those good looks of yours: and so may the Gods bless me,
I do not at all wonder if every man is in love with you. For your discourse
has been a proof to me what kind of disposition you possess. And when
now I reflect in my mind upon your way of life, and that of all of you, in
fact, who keep the public at a distance from yourselves, it is not surprising
both that you are of that disposition, and that we are not; for it is your
interest to be virtuous; those, with whom we are acquainted, will not allow
us to be so. For our lovers, allured merely by our beauty, court us for that;
when that has faded, they transfer their affections elsewhere; and unless we
have made provision in the mean time for the future, we live in destitution.

Now with you, when you have once resolved to pass your life with one man
whose manners are especially kindred to your own, those persons48 become
attached to you. By this kindly feeling, you are truly devoted to each other;
and no calamity can ever possibly interrupt your love.
Anti. I know nothing about other women: I’m sure that I have, indeed,
always used every endeavor to derive my own happiness from his
happiness.
Clin. (apart, overhearing Antiphila.) Ah! ’tis for that reason, my Antiphila,
that you alone have now caused me to return to my native country; for
while I was absent from you, all other hardships which I encountered were
light to me, save the being deprived of you.
Syr. (apart.) I believe it.
Clin. (apart.) Syrus, I can scarce endure it!49 Wretch that I am, that I should
not be allowed to possess one of such a disposition at my own discretion!
Syr. Nay, so far as I understand your father, he will for a long time yet be
giving you a hard task.
Bacch. Why, who is that young man that’s looking at us?
Anti. (seeing Clinia.) Ah! do support me, I entreat you!
Bacch. Prithee, what is the matter with you?
Anti. I shall die, alas! I shall die!
Bacch. Why are you thus surprised, Antiphila?
Anti. Is it Clinia that I see, or not?
Bacch. Whom do you see?
Clin. (running to embrace Antiphila.) Blessings on you, my life!
Anti. Oh my long-wished for Clinia, blessings on you!
Clin. How fare you, my love?
Anti. I’m overjoyed that you have returned safe.

Clin. And do I embrace you, Antiphila, so passionately longed for by my
soul?
Syr. Go in-doors; for the old gentleman has been waiting for us some time.
( They go into the house of Chremes.)

ACT THE THIRD.
Scene I.

Enter Chremes from his house.
Chrem. (to himself.) It is now daybreak.50 Why do I delay to knock at my
neighbor’s door, that he may learn from me the first that his son has
returned? Although I am aware that the youth would not prefer this. But
when I see him tormenting himself so miserably about his absence, can I
conceal a joy so unhoped for, especially when there can be no danger to him
from the discovery? I will not do so; but as far as I can I will assist the old
man. As I see my son aiding his friend and year’s-mate, and acting as his
confidant in his concerns, it is but right that we old men as well should
assist each other.
( Enter Menedemus from his house.)
Men. (to himself.) Assuredly I was either born with a disposition peculiarly
suited for misery, or else that saying which I hear commonly repeated, that
“time assuages human sorrow,” is false. For really my sorrow about my son
increases daily; and the longer he is away from me, the more anxiously do I
wish for him, and the more I miss him.
Chrem. (apart.) But I see him coming out of his house; I’ll go speak to him.
(Aloud.) Menedemus, good-morrow; I bring you news, which you would
especially desire to be imparted.
Men. Pray, have you heard any thing about my son, Chremes?

Chrem. He’s alive, and well.
Men. Why, where is he, pray?
Chrem. Here, at my house, at home.
Men. My son?
Chrem. Such is the fact.
Men. Come home?
Chrem. Certainly.
Men. My son, Clinia, come home?
Chrem. I say so.
Men. Let us go. Lead me to him, I beg of you.
Chrem. He does not wish you yet to know of his return, and he shuns your
presence; he’s afraid that, on account of that fault, your former severity may
even be increased.
Men. Did you not tell him how I was affected?51
Chrem. No—
Men. For what reason, Chremes?
Chrem. Because there you would judge extremely ill both for yourself and
for him, if you were to show yourself of a spirit so weak and irresolute.
Men. I can not help it: enough already, enough, have I proved a rigorous
father.
Chrem. Ah Menedemus! you are too precipitate in either extreme, either
with profuseness or with parsimony too great. Into the same error will you
fall from the one side as from the other. In the first place, formerly, rather
than allow your son to visit a young woman, who was then content with a
very little, and to whom any thing was acceptable, you frightened him away
from here. After that, she began, quite against her inclination, to seek a
subsistence upon the town. Now, when she can not be supported without a
great expense, you are ready to give any thing. For, that you may know how
perfectly she is trained to extravagance, in the first place, she has already

brought with her more than ten female attendants, all laden with clothes and
jewels of gold; if a satrap52 had been her admirer, he never could support
her expenses, much less can you.
Men. Is she at your house?
Chrem. Is she, do you ask? I have felt it; for I have given her and her
retinue one dinner; had I to give them another such, it would be all over
with me; for, to pass by other matters, what a quantity of wine she did
consume for me in tasting only,53 saying thus, “This wine is too acid,54
respected sir,55 do please look for something more mellow.” I opened all the
casks, all the vessels;56 she kept all on the stir: and this but a single night.
What do you suppose will become of you when they are constantly preying
upon you? So may the Gods prosper me, Menedemus, I do pity your lot.
Men. Let him do what he will; let him take, waste, and squander; I’m
determined to endure it, so long as I only have him with me.
Chrem. If it is your determination thus to act, I hold it to be of very great
moment that he should not be aware that with a full knowledge you grant
him this.
Men. What shall I do?
Chrem. Any thing, rather than what you are thinking of; supply him with
money through some other person; suffer yourself to be imposed upon by
the artifices of his servant: although I have smelt out this too, that they are
about that, and are secretly planning it among them. Syrus is always
whispering with that servant of yours;57 they impart their plans to the young
men; and it were better for you to lose a talent this way, than a mina the
other. The money is not the question now, but this—in what way we can
supply it to the young man with the least danger. For if he once knows the
state of your feelings, that you would sooner part with your life, and sooner
with all your money, than allow your son to leave you; whew! what an
inlet58 will you be opening for his debauchery! aye, and so much so, that
henceforth to live can not be desirable to you. For we all become worse
through indulgence. Whatever comes into his head, he’ll be wishing for; nor
will he reflect whether that which he desires is right or wrong. You will not
be able to endure your estate and him going to ruin. You will refuse to

supply him: he will immediately have recourse to the means by which he
finds that he has the greatest hold upon you, and threaten that he will
immediately leave you.
Men. You seem to speak the truth, and just what is the fact.
Chrem. I’faith, I have not been sensible of sleep this night with my eyes,59
for thinking of this—how to restore your son to you.
Men. (taking his hand.) Give me your right hand. I request that you will still
act in a like manner, Chremes.
Chrem. I am ready to serve you.
Men. Do you know what it is I now want you to do?
Chrem. Tell me.
Men. As you have perceived that they are laying a plan to deceive me, that
they may hasten to complete it. I long to give him whatever he wants: I am
now longing to behold him.
Chrem. I’ll lend my endeavors. This little business is in my way. Our
neighbors Simus and Crito are disputing here about boundaries; they have
chosen me for arbitrator. I’ll go and tell them that I can not possibly give
them my attention to-day as I had stated I would. I’ll be here immediately.
( Exit.)
Men. Pray do. (To himself.) Ye Gods, by our trust in you! That the nature of
all men should be so constituted, that they can see and judge of other men’s
affairs better than their own! Is it because in our own concerns we are
biased either with joy or grief in too great a degree? How much wiser now
is he for me, than I have been for myself!
( Re-enter Chremes.)
Chrem. I have disengaged myself, that I might lend you my services at my
leisure. Syrus must be found and instructed by me in this business. Some
one, I know not who, is coming out of my house: do you step hence home,
that they may not perceive60 that we are conferring together.
( Menedemus goes into his house.)

Scene II.

Enter Syrus from the house of Chremes.
Syr. (aloud to himself.) Run to and fro in every direction; still, money, you
must be found: a trap must be laid for the old man.
Chrem. (apart, overhearing him.) Was I deceived in saying that they were
planning this? That servant of Clinia’s is somewhat dull; therefore that
province has been assigned to this one of ours.
Syr. (in a low voice.) Who’s that speaking? (Catches sight of Chremes.) I’m
undone! Did he hear it, I wonder?
Chrem. Syrus.
Syr. Well—
Chrem. What are you doing here?
Syr. All right. Really, I am quite surprised at you, Chremes, up so early,
after drinking so much yesterday.
Chrem. Not too much.
Syr. Not too much, say you? Really, you’ve seen the old age of an eagle,61
as the saying is.
Chrem. Pooh, pooh!
Syr. A pleasant and agreeable woman this Courtesan.
Chrem. Why, so she seemed to me, in fact.
Syr. And really of handsome appearance.
Chrem. Well enough.
Syr. Not like those of former days,62 but as times are now, very passable:
nor do I in the least wonder that Clinia doats upon her. But he has a father—
a certain covetous, miserable, and niggardly person—this neighbor of ours
(pointing to the house). Do you know him? Yet, as if he was not abounding
in wealth, his son ran away through want. Are you aware that it is the fact,
as I am saying?

Chrem. How should I not be aware? A fellow that deserves the mill.
Syr. Who?
Chrem. That servant of the young gentleman, I mean.
Syr. (aside.) Syrus! I was sadly afraid for you.
Chrem. To suffer it to come to this!
Syr. What was he to do?
Chrem. Do you ask the question? He ought to have found some expedient,
contrived some stratagem, by means of which there might have been
something for the young man to give to his mistress, and thus have saved
this crabbed old fellow in spite of himself.
Syr. You are surely joking.
Chrem. This ought to have been done by him, Syrus.
Syr. How now—pray, do you commend servants, who deceive their
masters?
Chrem. Upon occasion—I certainly do commend them.
Syr. Quite right.
Chrem. Inasmuch as it often is the remedy for great disturbances. Then
would this man’s only son have staid at home.
Syr. (aside.) Whether he says this in jest or in earnest, I don’t know; only,
in fact, that he gives me additional zest for longing still more to trick him.
Chrem. And what is he now waiting for, Syrus? Is it until his father drives
him away from here a second time, when he can no longer support her
expenses?63 Has he no plot on foot against the old gentleman?
Syr. He is a stupid fellow.
Chrem. Then you ought to assist him—for the sake of the young man.
Syr. For my part, I can do so easily, if you command me; for I know well in
what fashion it is usually done.
Chrem. So much the better, i’ faith.

Syr. ’Tis not my way to tell an untruth.
Chrem. Do it then.
Syr. But hark you! Just take care and remember this, in case any thing of
this sort should perchance happen at a future time, such are human affairs!
—your son might do the same.
Chrem. The necessity will not arise, I trust.
Syr. I’ faith, and I trust so too: nor do I say so now, because I have
suspected him in any way; but in case, none the more64—You see what his
age is; (aside) and truly, Chremes,65 if an occasion does happen, I may be
able to handle you right handsomely.
Chrem. As to that, we’ll consider what is requisite when the occasion does
happen. At present do you set about this matter.
( Goes into his house.)
Syr. (to himself.) Never on any occasion did I hear my master talk more to
the purpose; nor at any time could I believe that I was authorized to play the
rogue with greater impunity. I wonder who it is coming out of our house?
( Stands aside.)

Scene III.

Enter Chremes and Clitipho from the house of the former.
Chrem. Pray, what does this mean? What behavior is this, Clitipho? Is this
acting as becomes you?
Clit. What have I done?
Chrem. Did I not see you just now putting your hand into this Courtesan’s
bosom?
Syr. (apart.) It’s all up with us—I’m utterly undone!
Clit. What, I?

Chrem. With these self-same eyes I saw it—don’t deny it. Besides, you
wrong him unworthily in not keeping your hands off: for indeed it is a gross
affront to entertain a person, your friend, at your house, and to take liberties
with his mistress. Yesterday, for instance, at wine, how rude you were—
Syr. (apart.) ’Tis the truth.66
Chrem. How annoying you were! So much so, that for my part, as the Gods
may prosper me, I dreaded what in the end might be the consequence.
I understand lovers. They resent highly things that you would not imagine.
Clit. But he has full confidence in me, father, that I would not do any thing
of that kind.
Chrem. Be it so; still, at least, you ought to go somewhere for a little time
away from their presence. Passion prompts to many a thing; your presence
acts as a restraint upon doing them. I form a judgment from myself. There’s
not one of my friends this day to whom I would venture, Clitipho, to
disclose all my secrets. With one, his station forbids it; with another, I am
ashamed of the action itself, lest I may appear a fool or devoid of shame; do
you rest assured that he does the same.67 But it is our part to be sensible of
this; and, when and where it is requisite, to show due complaisance.
Syr. (coming forward and whispering to Clitipho.) What is it he is 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.68
Clit. Hold your tongue, I beg.
Syr. Very good.
Chrem. (approaching them.) Syrus, I am ashamed of him.
Syr. I believe it; and not without reason. Why, he vexes myself even.
Clit. (to Syrus.) Do you persist, then?
Syr. I’ faith, I’m saying the truth, as it appears to me.
Clit. May I not go near them?

Chrem. How now—pray, is there but one way69 of going near them?
Syr. (aside.) Confusion! He’ll be betraying himself before I’ve got the
money. (Aloud.) Chremes, will you give attention to me, who am but a silly
person?
Chrem. What am I to do?
Syr. Bid him go somewhere out of the way.
Clit. Where am I to go?
Syr. Where you please; leave the place to them; be off and take a walk.
Clit. Take a walk! where?
Syr. Pshaw! Just as if there was no place to walk in. Why, then, go this way,
that way, where you will.
Chrem. He says right, I’m of his opinion.
Clit. May the Gods extirpate you, Syrus, for thrusting me away from here.
Syr. (aside to Clitipho.) Then do you for the future keep those hands of
yours within bounds. (Exit Clitipho.) Really now (to Chremes), what do you
think? What do you imagine will become of him next, unless, so far as the
Gods afford you the means, you watch him, correct and admonish him?
Chrem. I’ll take care of that.
Syr. But now, master, he must be looked after by you.
Chrem. It shall be done.
Syr. If you are wise,—for now he minds me less and less every day.
Chrem. What say you? What have you done, Syrus, about that matter which
I was mentioning to you a short time since? Have you any plan that suits
you, or not yet even?
Syr. You mean the design upon Menedemus? I have; I have just hit upon
one.
Chrem. You are a clever fellow; what is it? Tell me.
Syr. I’ll tell you; but, as one matter arises, out of another——

Chrem. Why, what is it, Syrus?
Syr. This Courtesan is a very bad woman.
Chrem. So she seems.
Syr. Aye, if you did but know. O shocking! just see what she is hatching.
There was a certain old woman here from Corinth,—this Bacchis lent her a
thousand silver drachmæ.
Chrem. What then?
Syr. She is now dead: she has left a daughter, a young girl. She has been
left with this Bacchis as a pledge for that sum.
Chrem. I understand you.
Syr. She has brought her hither along with her, her I mean who is now with
your wife.70
Chrem. What then?
Syr. She is soliciting Clinia at once to advance her this money; she says,
however, that this girl is to be a security, that, at a future time, she will
repay the thousand pieces of money.
Chrem. And would she really be a security?71
Syr. Dear me, is it to be doubted? I think so.
Chrem. What then do you intend doing?
Syr. What, I? I shall go to Menedemus; I’ll tell him she is a captive from
Caria, rich, and of noble family; if he redeems her, there will be a
considerable profit in this transaction.
Chrem. You are in an error.
Syr. Why so?
Chrem. I’ll now answer you for Menedemus—I will not purchase her.
Syr. What is it you say? Do speak more agreeably to our wishes.
Chrem. But there is no occasion.
Syr. No occasion?

Chrem. Certainly not, i’ faith.
Syr. How so, I wonder?
Chrem. You shall soon know.72
Syr. Stop, stop; what is the reason that there is such a great noise at our
door?
( They retire out of sight.)

ACT THE FOURTH.
Scene I.

Enter Sostrata and a Nurse in haste from the house of Chremes, and
Chremes and Syrus on the other side of the stage unperceived.
Sos. (holding up a ring and examining it.) Unless my fancy deceives me,
surely this is the ring which I suspect it to be, the same with which my
daughter was exposed.
Chrem. (apart.) Syrus, what is the meaning of these expressions?
Sos. Nurse, how is it? Does it not seem to you the same?
Nur. As for me, I said it was the same the very instant that you showed it
me.
Sos. But have you now examined it thoroughly, my dear nurse?
Nur. Thoroughly.
Sos. Then go in-doors at once, and if she has now done bathing, bring me
word. I’ll wait here in the mean time for my husband.
Syr. (apart.) She wants you, see what it is she wants; she is in a serious
mood, I don’t know why; it is not without a cause—I fear what it may be.

Chrem. What it may be? I’ faith, she’ll now surely be announcing some
important trifle, with a great parade.
Sos. (turning round.) Ha! my husband!
Chrem. Ha! my wife!
Sos. I was looking for you.
Chrem. Tell me what you want.
Sos. In the first place, this I beg of you, not to believe that I have ventured
to do any thing contrary to your commands.
Chrem. Would you have me believe you in this, although so incredible?
Well, I will believe you.
Syr. (aside.) This excuse portends I know not what offense.
Sos. Do you remember me being pregnant, and yourself declaring to me,
most peremptorily, that if I should bring forth a girl, you would not have it
brought up.
Chrem. I know what you have done, you have brought it up.
Syr. (aside.) Such is the fact, I’m sure: my young master has gained a
loss73 in consequence.
Sos. Not at all; but there was here an elderly woman of Corinth, of no
indifferent character; to her I gave it to be exposed.
Chrem. O Jupiter! that there should be such extreme folly in a person’s
mind.
Sos. Alas! what have I done?
Chrem. And do you ask the question?
Sos. If I have acted wrong, my dear Chremes, I have done so in ignorance.
Chrem. This, indeed, I know for certain, even if you were to deny it, that in
every thing you both speak and act ignorantly and foolishly: how many
blunders you disclose in this single affair! For, in the first place, then, if you
had been disposed to obey my orders, the child ought to have been
dispatched; you ought not in words to have feigned her death, and in reality

to have left hopes of her surviving. But that I pass over; compassion,
maternal affection, I allow it. But how finely you did provide for the future!
What was your meaning? Do reflect. It’s clear, beyond a doubt, that your
daughter was betrayed by you to this old woman, either that through you
she might make a living by her, or that she might be sold in open market as
a slave. I suppose you reasoned thus: “any thing is enough, if only her life
is saved:” what are you to do with those who understand neither law, nor
right and justice? Be it for better or for worse, be it for them or against
them, they see nothing except just what they please.
Sos. My dear Chremes, I have done wrong, I own; I am convinced. Now
this I beg of you; inasmuch as you are more advanced in years than I, be so
much the more ready to forgive; so that your justice may be some
protection for my weakness.
Chrem. I’ll readily forgive you doing this, of course; but, Sostrata, my easy
temper prompts you to do amiss. But, whatever this circumstance is, by
reason of which this was begun upon, proceed to tell it.
Sos. As we women are all foolishly and wretchedly superstitious, when I
delivered the child to her to be exposed, I drew a ring from off my finger,
and ordered her to expose it, together with the child; that if she should die,
she might not be without74 some portion of our possessions.
Chrem. That was right; thereby you proved the saving of yourself and her.75
Sos. (holding out the ring.) This is that ring.
Chrem. Whence did you get it?
Sos. From the young woman whom Bacchis brought here with her.
Syr. (aside.) Ha!
Chrem. What does she say?
Sos. She gave it me to keep for her, while she went to bathe. At first I paid
no attention to it; but after I looked at it, I at once recognized it, and came
running to you.
Chrem. What do you suspect now, or have you discovered, relative to her?

Sos. I don’t know; unless you inquire of herself whence she got it, if that
can possibly be discovered.
Syr. (aside.) I’m undone! I see more hopes76 from this incident than I
desire. If it is so, she certainly must be ours.
Chrem. Is this woman living to whom you delivered the child?
Sos. I don’t know.
Chrem. What account did she bring you at the time?
Sos. That she had done as I had ordered her.
Chrem. Tell me what is the woman’s name, that she may be inquired after.
Sos. Philtere.
Syr. (aside.) ’Tis the very same. It’s a wonder if she isn’t found, and I lost.
Chrem. Sostrata, follow me this way in-doors.
Sos. How much beyond my hopes has this matter turned out! How
dreadfully afraid I was, Chremes, that you would now be of feelings as
unrelenting as formerly you were on exposing the child.
Chrem. Many a time a man can not be77 such as he would be, if
circumstances do not admit of it. Time has now so brought it about, that I
should be glad of a daughter; formerly I wished for nothing less.
( Chremes and Sostrata go into the house.)

Scene II.

Syrus alone.

Syr. Unless my fancy deceives me,78 retribution79 will not be very, far off
from me; so much by this incident are my forces now utterly driven into
straits; unless I contrive by some means that the old man mayn’t come to
know that this damsel is his son’s mistress. For as to entertaining any hopes
about the money, or supposing I could cajole him, it’s useless; I shall be
sufficiently triumphant, if I’m allowed to escape with my sides covered.80

I’m vexed that such a tempting morsel has been so suddenly snatched away
from my jaws. What am I to do? Or what shall I devise? I must begin upon
my plan over again. Nothing is so difficult, but that it may be found out by
seeking. What now if I set about it after this fashion. (He considers.) That’s
of no use. What, if after this fashion? I effect just about the same. But this I
think will do. It can not. Yes! excellent. Bravo! I’ve found out the best of all
—I’ faith, I do believe that after all I shall lay hold of this same runaway
money.81

Scene III.

Enter Clinia at the other side of the stage.
Clin. (to himself.) Nothing can possibly henceforth befall me of such
consequence as to cause me uneasiness; so extreme is this joy that has
surprised me. Now then I shall give myself up entirely to my father, to be
more frugal than even he could wish.
Syr. (apart.) I wasn’t mistaken; she has been discovered, so far as I
understand from these words of his. (Advancing.) I am rejoiced that this
matter has turned out for you so much to your wish.
Clin. O my dear Syrus, have you heard of it, pray?
Syr. How shouldn’t I, when I was present all the while?
Clin. Did you ever hear of any thing falling out so fortunately for any one?
Syr. Never.
Clin. And, so may the Gods prosper me, I do not now rejoice so much on
my own account as hers, whom I know to be deserving of any honor.
Syr. I believe it: but now, Clinia, come, attend to me in my turn. For your
friend’s business as well,—it must be seen to—that it is placed in a state of
security, lest the old gentleman should now come to know any thing about
his mistress.
Clin. O Jupiter!
Syr. Do be quiet.

Clin. My Antiphila will be mine.
Syr. Do you still interrupt me thus?
Clin. What can I do? My dear Syrus, I’m transported with joy! Do bear
with me.
Syr. I’ faith, I really do bear with you.
Clin. We are blest with the life of the Gods.
Syr. I’m taking pains to no purpose, I doubt.
Clin. Speak; I hear you.
Syr. But still you’ll not mind it.
Clin. I will.
Syr. This must be seen to, I say, that your friend’s business as well is placed
in a state of security. For if you now go away from us, and leave Bacchis
here, our old man will immediately come to know that she is Clitipho’s
mistress; if you take her away with you, it will be concealed just as much as
it has been hitherto concealed.
Clin. But still, Syrus, nothing can make more against my marriage than
this; for with what face am I to address my father about it? You understand
what I mean?
Syr. Why not?
Clin. What can I say? What excuse can I make?
Syr. Nay, I don’t want you to dissemble; tell him the whole case just as it
really is.
Clin. What is it you say?
Syr. I bid you do this; tell him that you are in love with her, and want her
for a wife: that this Bacchis is Clitipho’s mistress.
Clin. You require a thing that is fair and reasonable, and easy to be done.
And I suppose, then, you would have me request my father to keep it a
secret from your old man.

Syr. On the contrary; to tell him directly the matter just as it is.
Clin. What? Are you quite in your senses or sober? Why, you were for
ruining him outright. For how could he be in a state of security? Tell me
that.
Syr. For my part, I yield the palm to this device. Here I do pride myself
exultingly, in having in myself such exquisite resources, and power of
address so great, as to deceive them both by telling the truth: so that when
your old man tells ours that she is his son’s mistress, he’ll still not believe
him.
Clin. But yet, by these means you again cut off all hopes of my marriage;
for as long as Chremes believes that she is my mistress, he’ll not give me
his daughter. Perhaps you care little what becomes of me, so long as you
provide for him.
Syr. What the plague, do you suppose I want this pretense to be kept up for
an age? ’Tis but for a single day, only till I have secured the money: you be
quiet; I ask no more.
Clin. Is that sufficient? If his father should come to know of it, pray, what
then?
Syr. What if I have recourse to those who say, “What now if the sky were
to fall?”82
Clin. I’m afraid to go about it.
Syr. You, afraid! As if it was not in your power to clear yourself at any time
you like, and discover the whole matter.
Clin. Well, well; let Bacchis be brought over to our house.
Syr. Capital! she is coming out of doors.

Scene IV.

Enter Bacchis and Phrygia, from the house of Chremes.

Bacch. (pretending not to see Clinia and Syrus.) To a very fine purpose,83
upon my faith, have the promises of Syrus brought me hither, who agreed to
lend me ten minæ. If now he deceives me, oft as he may entreat me to
come, he shall come in vain. Or else, when I’ve promised to come, and
fixed the time, when he has carried word back for certain, and Clitipho is
on the stretch of expectation, I’ll disappoint him and not come. Syrus will
make atonement to me with his back.
Clin. (apart, to Syrus.) She promises you very fairly.
Syr. (to Clinia.) But do you think she is in jest? She’ll do it, if I don’t take
care.
Bacch. (aside.) They’re asleep84—I’faith, I’ll rouse them. (Aloud.) My dear
Phrygia, did you hear about the country-seat of Charinus, which that man
was showing us just now?
Phry. I heard of it.
Bacch. (aloud.) That it was the next to the farm here on the right-hand
side.85
Phry. I remember.
Bacch. (aloud) Run thither post-haste; the Captain is keeping the feast of
Bacchus86 at his house.
Syr. (apart.) What is she going to be at?
Bacch. (aloud.) Tell him I am here very much against my inclination, and
am detained; but that by some means or other I’ll give them the slip and
come to him.
( Phrygia moves.)
Syr. (coming forward.) Upon my faith, I’m ruined! Bacchis, stay, stay;
prithee, where are you sending her? Order her to stop.
Bacch. (to Phrygia.) Be off.
Syr. Why, the money’s ready.
Bacch. Why, then I’ll stay.

( Phrygia returns.)
Syr. And it will be given you presently.
Bacch. Just when you please; do I press you?
Syr. But do you know what you are to do, pray?
Bacch. What?
Syr. You must now go over to the house of Menedemus, and your equipage
must be taken over thither.
Bacch. What scheme are you upon, you rascal?
Syr. What, I? Coining money to give you.
Bacch. Do you think me a proper person for you to play upon?
Syr. It’s not without a purpose.
Bacch. (pointing to the house.) Why, have I any business then with you
here?
Syr. O no; I’m only going to give you what’s your own.
Bacch. Then let’s be going.87
Syr. Follow this way. (Goes to the door of Menedemus, and calls.) Ho
there! Dromo.
( Enter Dromo from the house.)
Dro. Who is it wants me?
Syr. Syrus.
Dro. What’s the matter?
Syr. Take over all the attendants of Bacchis to your house here
immediately.
Dro. Why so?
Syr. Ask no questions. Let them take what they brought here with them.
The old gentleman will hope his expenses are lightened by their departure;

for sure he little knows how much loss this trifling gain will bring him. You,
Dromo, if you are wise, know nothing of what you do know.
Dro. You shall own that I’m dumb.
( Clinia, Bacchis, and Phrygia go into the house of Menedemus,
and Dromo follows with Bacchis’s retinue and baggage.)

Scene V.

Enter Chremes from his house.
Chrem. (to himself.) So may the Deities prosper me, I am now concerned
for the fate of Menedemus, that so great a misfortune should have befallen
him. To be maintaining that woman with such a retinue! Although I am well
aware he’ll not be sensible of it for some days to come, his son was so
greatly missed by him; but when he sees such a vast expense incurred by
him every day at home, and no limit to it, he’ll wish that this son would
leave him a second time. See—here comes Syrus most opportunely.
Syr. (to himself, as he comes forward.) Why delay to accost him?
Chrem. Syrus.
Syr. Well.
Chrem. How go matters?
Syr. I’ve been wishing for some time for you to be thrown in my way.
Chrem. You seem, then, to have effected something, I know not what, with
the old gentleman.
Syr. As to what we were talking of a short time since? No sooner said than
done.
Chrem. In real earnest?
Syr. In real.
Chrem. Upon my faith, I can not forbear patting your head for it. Come
here, Syrus; I’ll do you some good turn for this matter, and with pleasure.

(Patting his head.)
Syr. But if you knew how cleverly it came into my head——
Chrem. Pshaw! Do you boast because it has turned out according to your
wishes?
Syr. On my word, not I, indeed; I am telling the truth.
Chrem. Tell me how it is.
Syr. Clinia has told Menedemus, that this Bacchis is your Clitipho’s
mistress, and that he has taken her thither with him in order that you might
not come to know of it.
Chrem. Very good.
Syr. Tell me, please, what you think of it.
Chrem. Extremely good, I declare.
Syr. Why yes, pretty fair. But listen, what a piece of policy still remains. He
is then to say that he has seen your daughter—that her beauty charmed him
as soon as he beheld her; and that he desires her for a wife.
Chrem. What, her that has just been discovered?
Syr. The same; and, in fact, he’ll request that she may be asked for.
Chrem. For what purpose, Syrus? For I don’t altogether comprehend it.
Syr. O dear, you are so dull.
Chrem. Perhaps so.
Syr. Money will be given him for the wedding—with which golden trinkets
and clothes——do you understand me?
Chrem. To buy them——?
Syr. Just so.
Chrem. But I neither give nor betroth my daughter to him.
Syr. But why?
Chrem. Why, do you ask me? To a fellow——

Syr. Just as you please. I don’t mean that in reality you should give her to
him, but that you should pretend it.
Chrem. Pretending is not in my way; do you mix up these plots of yours, so
as not to mix me up in them. Do you think that I’ll betroth my daughter to a
person to whom I will not marry her?
Syr. I imagined so.
Chrem. By no means.
Syr. It might have been cleverly managed; and I undertook this affair for
the very reason, that a short time since you so urgently requested it.
Chrem. I believe you.
Syr. But for my part, Chremes, I take it well and good, either way.
Chrem. But still, I especially wish you to do your best for it to be brought
about; but in some other way.
Syr. It shall be done: some other method must be thought of; but as to what
I was telling you of,—about the money which she owes to Bacchis,—that
must now be repaid her. And you will not, of course, now be having
recourse to this method; “What have I to do with it? Was it lent to me? Did I
give any orders? Had she the power to pawn my daughter without my
consent?” They quote that saying, Chremes, with good reason, “Rigorous
law88 is often rigorous injustice.”
Chrem. I will not do so.
Syr. On the contrary, though others were at liberty, you are not at liberty; all
think that you are in good and very easy circumstances.
Chrem. Nay rather, I’ll at once carry it to her myself.
Syr. Why no; request your son in preference.
Chrem. For what reason?
Syr. Why, because the suspicion of being in love with her has been
transferred to him with Menedemus.
Chrem. What then?

Syr. Because it will seem to be more like probability when he gives it her;
and at the same time I shall effect more easily what I wish. Here he comes
too; go, and bring out the money.
Chrem. I’ll bring it.
( Goes into his house.)

Scene VI.

Enter Clitipho.
Clit. (to himself.) There is nothing so easy but that it becomes difficult
when you do it with reluctance. As this walk of mine, for instance, though
not fatiguing, it has reduced me to weariness. And now I dread nothing
more than that I should be packed off somewhere hence once again, that I
may not have access to Bacchis. May then all the Gods and Goddesses, as
many as exist, confound you, Syrus, with these stratagems and plots of
yours. You are always devising something of this kind, by means of which
to torture me.
Syr. Will you not away with you—to where you deserve? How nearly had
your forwardness proved my ruin!
Clit. Upon my faith, I wish it had been so; just what you deserve.
Syr. Deserve? How so? Really, I’m glad that I’ve heard this from you
before you had the money which I was just going to give you.
Clit. What then would you have me to say to you? You’ve made a fool of
me; brought my mistress hither, whom I’m not allowed to touch——
Syr. Well, I’m not angry then. But do you know where Bacchis is just now?
Clit. At our house.
Syr. No.
Clit. Where then?
Syr. At Clinia’s.

Clit. I’m ruined!
Syr. Be of good heart; you shall presently carry to her the money that you
promised her.
Clit. You do prate away.—Where from?
Syr. From your own father.
Clit. Perhaps you are joking with me.
Syr. The thing itself will prove it.
Clit. Indeed, then, I am a lucky man. Syrus, I do love you from my heart.
Syr. But your father’s coming out. Take care not to express surprise at any
thing, for what reason it is done; give way at the proper moment; do what
he orders, and say but little.

Scene VII.

Enter Chremes from the house, with a bag of money.
Chrem. Where’s Clitipho now?
Syr. (aside to Clitipho.) Say—here I am.
Clit. Here am I.
Chrem. (to Syrus.) Have you told him how it is?
Syr. I’ve told him pretty well every thing.
Chrem. Take this money, and carry it. (Holding out the bag.)
Syr. (aside to Clitipho.) Go—why do you stand still, you stone; why don’t
you take it?
Clit. Very well, give it me. (Receives the bag.)
Syr. (to Clitipho.) Follow me this way directly. (To Chremes.) You in the
mean while will wait here for us till we return; for there’s no occasion for us
to stay there long.
( Clitipho and Syrus go into the house of Menedemus.)

Chrem. (to himself.) My daughter, in fact, has now had ten minæ from me,
which I consider as paid for her board; another ten will follow these for
clothes; and then she will require two talents for her portion. How many
things, both just and unjust, are sanctioned by custom!89 Now I’m obliged,
neglecting my business, to look out for some one on whom to bestow my
property, that has been acquired by my labor.

Scene VIII.

Enter Menedemus from his house.
Men. (to Clinia within.) My son, I now think myself the happiest of all
men, since I find that you have returned to a rational mode of life.
Chrem. (aside.) How much he is mistaken!
Men. Chremes, you are the very person I wanted; preserve, so far as in you
lies, my son, myself, and my family.
Chrem. Tell me what you would have me do.
Men. You have this day found a daughter.
Chrem. What then?
Men. Clinia wishes her to be given him for a wife.
Chrem. Prithee, what kind of a person are you?
Men. Why?
Chrem. Have you already forgotten what passed between us, concerning a
scheme, that by that method some money might be got out of you?
Men. I remember.
Chrem. That self-same thing they are now about.
Men. What do you tell me, Chremes? Why surely, this Courtesan, who is at
my house, is Clitipho’s mistress.
Chrem. So they say, and you believe it all; and they say that he is desirous
of a wife, in order that, when I have betrothed her, you may give him

money, with which to provide gold trinkets and clothing, and other things
that are requisite.
Men. That is it, no doubt; that money will be given to his mistress.
Chrem. Of course it is to be given.
Men. Alas! in vain then, unhappy man, have I been overjoyed; still
however, I had rather any thing than be deprived of him. What answer now
shall I report from you, Chremes, so that he may not perceive that I have
found it out, and take it to heart?
Chrem. To heart, indeed! you are too indulgent to him, Menedemus.
Men. Let me go on; I have now begun: assist me in this throughout,
Chremes.
Chrem. Say then, that you have seen me, and have treated about the
marriage.
Men. I’ll say so—what then?
Chrem. That I will do every thing; that as a son-in-law he meets my
approbation; in fine, too, if you like, tell him also that she has been
promised him.
Men. Well, that’s what I wanted—
Chrem. That he may the sooner ask of you, and you may as soon as possible
give him what you wish.
Men. It is my wish.
Chrem. Assuredly, before very long, according as I view this matter, you’ll
have enough of him. But, however that may be, if you are wise, you’ll give
to him cautiously, and a little at a time.
Men. I’ll do so.
Chrem. Go in-doors and see how much he requires. I shall be at home, if
you should want me for any thing.
Men. I certainly do want you; for I shall let you know whatever I do.
( They go into their respective houses.)

ACT THE FIFTH.
Scene I.

Enter Menedemus from his house.
Men. (to himself.) I am quite aware that I am not so overwise, or so very
quick-sighted; but this assistant, prompter, and director90 of mine, Chremes,
outdoes me in that. Any one of those epithets which are applied to a fool is
suited to myself, such as dolt, post, ass,91 lump of lead; to him not one can
apply; his stupidity surpasses them all.
( Enter Chremes, speaking to Sostrata within.)
Chrem. Hold now, do, wife, leave off dinning the Gods with thanksgivings
that your daughter has been discovered; unless you judge of them by your
own disposition, and think that they understand nothing, unless the same
thing has been told them a hundred times. But, in the mean time, why does
my son linger there so long with Syrus?
Men. What persons do you say are lingering?
Chrem. Ha! Menedemus, you have come opportunely. Tell me, have you
told Clinia what I said?
Men. Every thing.
Chrem. What did he say?
Men. He began to rejoice, just like people do who wish to be married.
Chrem. (laughing.) Ha! ha! ha!
Men. Why are you laughing?
Chrem. The sly tricks of my servant, Syrus, just came into my mind.
Men. Did they?
Chrem. The rogue can even mould the countenances of people.92
Men. That my son is pretending that he is overjoyed, is it that you mean?

Chrem. Just so. (Laughing.)
Men. The very same thing came into my mind.
Chrem. A crafty knave!
Men. Still more would you think such to be the fact, if you knew more.
Chrem. Do you say so?
Men. Do you give attention then?
Chrem. Just stop—first I want to know this, what money you have
squandered; for when you told your son that she was promised, of course
Dromo would at once throw in a word that golden jewels, clothes, and
attendants would be needed for the bride, in order that you might give the
money.
Men. No.
Chrem. How, no?
Men. No, I tell you.
Chrem. Nor yet your son himself?
Men. Not in the slightest, Chremes. He was only the more pressing on this
one point, that the match might be concluded to-day.
Chrem. You say what’s surprising. What did my servant Syrus do? Didn’t
even he say any thing?
Men. Nothing at all.
Chrem. For what reason, I don’t know.
Men. For my part, I wonder at that, when you know other things so well.
But this same Syrus has moulded your son,93 too, to such perfection, that
there could not be even the slightest suspicion that she is Clinia’s mistress!
Chrem. What do you say?
Men. Not to mention, then, their kissing and embracing; that I count
nothing.
Chrem. What more could be done to carry on the cheat?

Men. Pshaw!
Chrem. What do you mean?
Men. Only listen. In the inner part of my house there is a certain room at the
back; into this a bed was brought, and was made up with 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 had gone into the room, they shut the door.
Chrem. Well—did Clinia see all this going on?
Men. How shouldn’t he? He was with me.
Chrem. Bacchis is my son’s mistress, Menedemus—I’m undone.
Men. Why so?
Chrem. I have hardly substance to suffice for ten days.94
Men. What! are you alarmed at it, because he is paying attention to his
friend?
Chrem. His “she-friend” rather.95
Men. If he really is paying it.
Chrem. Is it a matter of doubt to you? Do you suppose that there is any
person of so accommodating and tame a spirit as to suffer his own mistress,
himself looking on, to—

Men. (chuckling and speaking ironically.) Why not? That I may be imposed
upon the more easily.
Chrem. Do you laugh at me? You have good reason. How angry I now am
with myself! How many things gave proof, whereby, had I not been a stone,
I might have been fully sensible of this? What was it I saw? Alas! wretch
that I am! But assuredly they shall not escape my vengeance if I live; for
this instant—
Men. Can you not contain yourself? Have you no respect for yourself? Am I
not a sufficient example to you?
Chrem. For very anger, Menedemus, I am not myself.
Men. For you to talk in that manner! Is it not a shame for you to be giving
advice to others, to show wisdom abroad and yet be able to do nothing for
yourself?
Chrem. What shall I do?
Men. That which you said I failed to do: make him sensible that you are his
father; make him venture to intrust every thing to you, to seek and to ask of
you; so that he may look for no other resources and forsake you.96
Chrem. Nay, I had much rather he would go any where in the world, than by
his debaucheries here reduce his father to beggary! For if I go on supplying
his extravagance, Menedemus, in that case my circumstances will
undoubtedly be soon reduced to the level of your rake.
Men. What evils you will bring upon yourself in this affair, if you don’t act
with caution! You’ll show yourself severe, and still pardon him at last; that
too with an ill grace.
Chrem. Ah! you don’t know how vexed I am.
Men. Just as you please. What about that which I desire—that she may be
married to my son? Unless there is any other step that you would prefer.
Chrem. On the contrary, both the son-in-law and the connection are to my
taste.

Men. What portion shall I say that you have named for your daughter? Why
are you silent?
Chrem. Portion?
Men. I say so.
Chrem. Alas!
Men. Chremes, don’t be at all afraid to speak, if it is but a small one. The
portion is no consideration at all with us.
Chrem. I did think that two talents were sufficient, according to my means.
But if you wish me to be saved, and my estate and my son, you must say to
this effect, that I have settled all my property on her as her portion.
Men. What scheme are you upon?
Chrem. Pretend that you wonder at this, and at the same time ask him the
reason why I do so.
Men. Why, really, I can’t conceive the reason for your doing so.
Chrem. Why do I do so? To check his feelings, which are now hurried away
by luxury and wantonness, and to bring him down so as not to know which
way to turn himself.
Men. What is your design?
Chrem. Let me alone, and give me leave to have my own way in this matter.
Men. I do give you leave: is this your desire?
Chrem. It is so.
Men. Then be it so.
Chrem. And now let your son prepare to fetch the bride. The other one shall
be schooled in such language as befits children. But Syrus——
Men. What of him?
Chrem. What? If I live, I will have him so handsomely dressed, so well
combed out, that he shall always remember me as long as he lives; to
imagine that I’m to be a laughing-stock and a plaything for him! So may the

Gods bless me! he would not have dared to do to a widow-woman the
things which he has done to me.97
( They go into their respective houses.)

Scene II.

Enter Menedemus, with Clitipho and Syrus.
Clit. Prithee, is it really the fact, Menedemus, that my father can, in so
short a space of time, have cast off all the natural affection of a parent for
me? For what crime? What so great enormity have I, to my misfortune,
committed? Young men generally do the same.
Men. I am aware that this must be much more harsh and severe to you, on
whom it falls; but yet I take it no less amiss than you. How it is so I know
not, nor can I account for it, except that from my heart I wish you well.
Clit. Did not you say that my father was waiting here?
( Enter Chremes from his house.)
Men. See, here he is.
( Menedemus goes into his house.)
Chrem. Why are you blaming me, Clitipho? Whatever I have done in this
matter, I had a view to you and your imprudence. When I saw that you were
of a careless disposition, and held the pleasures of the moment of the first
importance, and did not look forward to the future, I took measures that you
might neither want nor be able to waste this which I have. When, through
your own conduct, it was not allowed me to give it you, to whom I ought
before all, I had recourse to those who were your nearest relations; to them I
have made over and intrusted every thing.98 There you’ll always find a
refuge for your folly; food, clothing, and a roof under which to betake
yourself.
Clit. Ah me!
Chrem. It is better than that, you being my heir, Bacchis should possess this
estate of mine.

Syr. (apart.) I’m ruined irrevocably!—Of what mischief have I, wretch that
I am, unthinkingly been the cause?
Clit. Would I were dead!
Chrem. Prithee, first learn what it is to live. When you know that, if life
displeases you, then try the other.
Syr. Master, may I be allowed——?
Chrem. Say on.
Syr. But may I safely?
Chrem. Say on.
Syr. What injustice or what madness is this, that that in which I have
offended, should be to his detriment?
Chrem. It’s all over.99 Don’t you mix yourself up in it; no one accuses you,
Syrus, nor need you look out for an altar,100 or for an intercessor for
yourself.
Syr. What is your design?
Chrem. I am not at all angry either with you (to Syrus), or with you (to
Clitipho); nor is it fair that you should be so with me for what I am doing.
( He goes into his house.)
Syr. He’s gone. I wish I had asked him——
Clit. What, Syrus?
Syr. Where I am to get my subsistence; he has so utterly cast us adrift. You
are to have it, for the present, at your sister’s, I find.
Clit. Has it then come to this pass, Syrus—that I am to be in danger even of
starving?
Syr. So we only live, there’s hope——
Clit. What hope?
Syr. That we shall be hungry enough.

Clit. Do you jest in a matter so serious, and not give me any assistance with
your advice?
Syr. On the contrary, I’m both now thinking of that, and have been about it
all the time your father was speaking just now; and so far as I can perceive
——
Clit. What?
Syr. It will not be wanting long. (He meditates.)
Clit. What is it, then?
Syr. It is this—I think that you are not their son.
Clit. How’s that, Syrus? Are you quite in your senses?
Syr. I’ll tell you what’s come into my mind; be you the judge. While they
had you alone, while they had no other source of joy more nearly to affect
them, they indulged you, they lavished upon you. Now a daughter has been
found, a pretense has been found in fact on which to turn you adrift.
Clit. It’s very probable.
Syr. Do you suppose that he is so angry on account of this fault?
Clit. I do not think so.
Syr. Now consider another thing. All mothers are wont to be advocates for
their sons when in fault, and to aid them against a father’s severity; ’tis not
so here.
Clit. You say true; what then shall I now do, Syrus?
Syr. Question them on this suspicion; mention the matter without reserve;
either, if it is not true, you’ll soon bring them both to compassion, or else
you’ll soon find out whose son you are.
Clit. You give good advice; I’ll do so.
( He goes into the home of 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 Sostrata from the house.
Sos. Really, sir, if you don’t take care, you’ll be causing some mischief to
your son; and indeed I do wonder at it, my husband, how any thing so
foolish could ever come into your head.
Chrem. Oh, you persist in being the woman? Did I ever wish for any one
thing in all my life, Sostrata, but that you were my contradicter on that
occasion? And yet if I were now to ask you what it is that I have done
amiss, or why you act thus, you would not know in what point you are now
so obstinately opposing me in your folly.
Sos. I, not know?
Chrem. Yes, rather, I should have said you do know; inasmuch as either
expression amounts to the same thing.101
Sos. Alas! you are unreasonable to expect me to be silent in a matter of such
importance.
Chrem. I don’t expect it; talk on then, I shall still do it not a bit the less.
Sos. Will you do it?
Chrem. Certainly.
Sos. Don’t you see how much evil you will be causing by that course?—He
suspects himself to be a foundling.
Chrem. Do you say so?
Sos. Assuredly it will be so.

Chrem. Admit it.
Sos. Hold now—prithee, let that be for our enemies. Am I to admit that he
is not my son who really is?
Chrem. What! are you afraid that you can not prove that he is yours,
whenever you please?
Sos. Because my daughter has been found?102
Chrem. No; but for a reason why it should be much sooner believed—
because he is just like you in disposition, you will easily prove that he is
your child; for he is exactly like you; why, he has not a single vice left him
but you have just the same. Then, besides, no woman could have been the
mother of such a son but yourself. But he’s coming out of doors, and how
demure! When you understand the matter, you may form your own
conclusions.

Scene IV.

Enter Clitipho from the house of Chremes.
Clit. If there ever was any time, mother, when I caused you pleasure, being
called your son by your own desire, I beseech you to remember it, and now
to take compassion on me in my distress. A thing I beg and request—do
discover to me my parents.
Sos. I conjure you, my son, not to entertain that notion in your mind, that
you are another person’s child.
Clit. I am.
Sos. Wretch that I am! (Turning to Chremes.) Was it this that you wanted,
pray? (To Clitipho.) So may you be the survivor of me and of him, you are
my son and his; and henceforth, if you love me, take care that I never hear
that speech from you again.
Chrem. But I say, if you fear me, take care how I find these propensities
existing in you.
Clit. What propensities?

Chrem. If you wish to know, I’ll tell you; being a trifler, an idler, a cheat,
a glutton, a debauchee, a spendthrift—Believe me, and believe that you are
our son.
Clit. This is not the language of a parent.
Chrem. If you had been born from my head, Clitipho, just as they say
Minerva was from Jove’s, none the more on that account would I suffer
myself to be disgraced by your profligacy.103
Sos. May the Gods forbid it.
Chrem. I don’t know as to the Gods;104 so far as I shall be enabled, I will
carefully prevent it. You are seeking that which you possess—parents; that
which you are in want of you don’t seek—in what way to pay obedience to
a father, and to preserve what he acquired by his industry. That you by
trickery should bring before my eyes—I am ashamed to mention the
unseemly word in her presence (pointing to Sostrata), but you were not in
any degree ashamed to act thus.
Clit. (aside.) Alas! how thoroughly displeased I now am with myself! How
much ashamed! nor do I know how to make a beginning to pacify him.

Scene V.

Enter Menedemus from his house.
Men. (to himself.) Why really, Chremes is treating his son too harshly and
too unkindly. I’m come out, therefore, to make peace between them. Most
opportunely I see them both.
Chrem. Well, Menedemus, why don’t you order my daughter to be sent for,
and close with the offer105 of the portion that I mentioned?
Sos. My husband, I entreat you not to do it.
Clit. Father, I entreat you to forgive me.
Men. Forgive him, Chremes; do let them prevail upon you.

Chrem. Am I knowingly to make my property a present to Bacchis? I’ll not
do it.
Men. Why, we would not suffer it.
Clit. If you desire me to live, father, do forgive me.
Sos. Do, my dear Chremes.
Men. Come, Chremes, pray, don’t be so obdurate.
Chrem. What am I to do here? I see I am not allowed to carry this through,
as I had intended.
Men. You are acting as becomes you.
Chrem. On this condition, then, I’ll do it; if he does that which I think it
right he should do.
Clit. Father, I’ll do any thing; command me.
Chrem. You must take a wife.
Clit. Father——
Chrem. I’ll hear nothing.
Men. I’ll take it upon myself; he shall do so.
Chrem. I don’t hear any thing from him as yet.
Clit. (aside.) I’m undone!
Sos. Do you hesitate, Clitipho?
Chrem. Nay, just as he likes.
Men. He’ll do it all.
Sos. This course, while you are making a beginning, is disagreeable, and
while you are unacquainted with it. When you have become acquainted
with it, it will become easy.
Clit. I’ll do it, father.
Sos. My son, upon my honor I’ll give you that charming girl, whom you
may soon become attached to, the daughter of our neighbor Phanocrata.

Clit. What! that red-haired girl, with cat’s eyes, freckled face,106 and
hooked nose? I can not, father.
Chrem. Heyday! how nice he is! You would fancy he had set his mind upon
it.
Sos. I’ll name another.
Clit. Why no—since I must marry, I myself have one that I should pretty
nearly make choice of.
Sos. Now, son, I commend you.
Clit. The daughter of Archonides here.
Sos. I’m quite agreeable.
Clit. Father, this now remains.
Chrem. What is it?
Clit. I want you to pardon Syrus for what he has done for my sake.
Chrem. Be it so. (To the Audience.) Fare you well, and grant us your
applause.

FOOTNOTES
1. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.
2. From μενὸς, “strength,” and δῆμος, “the people.”
3. From κλίνω, “to incline,” or from κλινὴ, “the marriage-bed.”
4. From κλειτὸς, “illustrious,” and φῶς, “light.”
5. See the Dramatis Personæ of the Andria.
6. From Syria, his native country.
7. From σώζω, “to preserve,” or “save.”

8. From ἀντὶ, “in return,” and φιλῶ, “to love.”
9. From Bacchus, the God of Wine.
10. From Phrygia, her native country.
11. Being Consuls)—M. Juventius Thalna and Ti. Sempronius
Gracchus were Consuls in the year from the Building of the City 589,
and B.C. 164.
12. Assigned to an old man)—Ver. 1. He refers to the fact that the
Prologue was in general spoken by young men, whereas it is here
spoken by L. Ambivius Turpio, the leader of the Company, a man
stricken in years. The Prologue was generally not recited by a person
who performed a character in the opening Scene.
13. That I will first explain to you)—Ver. 3. His meaning seems to be,
that he will first tell them the reason why he, who is to take a part in
the opening Scene, speaks the Prologue, which is usually spoken by a
young man who does not take part in that Scene; and that he will then
proceed to speak in character (eloquor), as Chremes, in the first Scene.
His reason for being chosen to speak the Prologue, is that he may be a
pleader (orator) for the Poet, a task which would be likely to be better
performed by him than by a younger man.
14. From an entire Greek one)—Ver. 4. In contradistinction to such
Plays as the Andria, as to which it was a subject of complaint that it
had been formed out of a mixture (contaminatus) of the Andrian and
Perinthian of Menander.
15. Which from a two-fold plot)—Ver. 6. Vollbehr suggests that the
meaning of this line is, that though it is but one Play, it has a two-fold
plot—the intrigues of two young men with two mistresses, and the
follies of two old men. As this Play is supposed to represent the events
of two successive days, the night intervening, it has been suggested
that the reading is “duplex—ex argumento—simplici;” the Play is
“two-fold, with but one plot,” as extending to two successive days. The
Play derives its name from the Greek words, ἑαυτὸν, “himself,” and
τιμωρουμενὸς, “tormenting.”

16. To be a Pleader)—Ver. 11. He is to be the pleader and advocate of
the Poet, to influence the Audience in his favor, and against his
adversaries; and not to explain the plot of the Play. Colman has the
following observation: “It is impossible not to regret that there are not
above ten lines of the Self-Tormentor preserved among the Fragments
of Menander. We are so deeply interested by what we see of that
character in Terence, that one can not but be curious to inquire in what
manner the Greek Poet sustained it through five Acts. The Roman
author, though he has adopted the title of the Greek Play, has so altered
the fable, that Menedemus is soon thrown into the background, and
Chremes is brought forward as the principal object; or, to vary the
allusion a little, the Menedemus of Terence seems to be a drawing in
miniature copied from a full length, as large as the life, by Menander.”
17. A malevolent old Poet)—Ver. 22. He alludes to his old enemy,
Luscus Lavinius, referred to in the preceding Prologue.
18. The genius of his friends)—Ver. 24. He alludes to a report which
had been spread, that his friends Lælius and Scipio had published their
own compositions under his name. Servilius is also mentioned by
Eugraphius as another of his patrons respecting whom similar stories
were circulated.
19. As he ran alone in the street)—Ver. 31. He probably does not
intend to censure this practice entirely in Comedy, but to remind the
Audience that in some recent Play of Luscus Lavinius this had been
the sole stirring incident introduced. Plautus introduces Mercury
running in the guise of Sosia, in the fourth Scene of the Amphitryon, l.
987, and exclaiming, “For surely, why, faith, should I, a God, be any
less allowed to threaten the public, if it doesn’t get out of my way, than
a slave in the Comedies?” This practice can not, however, be intended
to be here censured by Plautus, as he is guilty of it in three other
instances. In the Mercator, Acanthio runs to his master Charinus, to tell
him that his mistress Pasicompsa has been seen in the ship by his
father Demipho; in the Stichus, Pinacium, a slave, runs to inform his
mistress Philumena that her husband has arrived in port, on his return
from Asia; and in the Mostellaria, Tranio, in haste, brings information

of the unexpected arrival of Theuropides. The “currens servus” is also
mentioned in the Prologue to the Andria, l. 36. See the soliloquy of
Stasimus, in the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 1007.
20. A quiet Play)—Ver. 36. “Statariam.” See the spurious Prologue to
the Bacchides of Plautus, l. 10, and the Note to the passage in Bohn’s
Translation. The Comedy of the Romans was either “stataria”,
“motoria”, or “mixta”. “Stataria” was a Comedy which was calm and
peaceable, such as the Cistellaria of Plautus; “motoria” was one full of
action and disturbance, like his Amphitryon; while the “Comœdia
mixta” was a mixture of both, such as the Eunuchus of Terence.
21. What in each character)—Ver. 47. “In utramque partem ingenium
quid possit meum.” This line is entirely omitted in Vollbehr’s edition;
but it appears to be merely a typographical error.
22. How little work is done here)—Ver. 72. Vollbehr thinks that his
meaning is, that he is quite vexed to see so little progress made, in
spite of his neighbor’s continual vexation and turmoil, and that, as he
says in the next line, he is of opinion that if he were to cease working
himself, and were to overlook his servants, he would get far more
done. It is more generally thought to be an objection which Chremes
suggests that Menedemus may possibly make.
23. I am a man)—Ver. 77. “Homo sum: humani nihil a me alienum
puto.” St. Augustine says, that at the delivery of this sentiment, the
Theatre resounded with applause; and deservedly, indeed, for it is
replete with the very essence of benevolence and disregard of self.
Cicero quotes the passage in his work De Officiis, B. i., c. 9. The
remarks of Sir Richard Steele upon this passage, in the Spectator, No.
502, are worthy to be transcribed at length. “The Play was the Self-
Tormentor. It is from the beginning to the end a perfect picture of
human life, but I did not observe in the whole one passage that could
raise a laugh. How well-disposed must that people be, who could be
entertained with satisfaction by so sober and polite mirth! In the first
Scene of the Comedy, when one of the old men accuses the other of
impertinence for interposing in his affairs, he answers, ‘I am a man,
and can not help feeling any sorrow that can arrive at man.’ It is said

this sentence was received with an universal applause. There can not
be a greater argument of the general good understanding of a people,
than their sudden consent to give their approbation of a sentiment
which has no emotion in it. If it were spoken with ever so great skill in
the actor, the manner of uttering that sentence could have nothing in it
which could strike any but people of the greatest humanity—nay,
people elegant and skillful in observation upon it. It is possible that he
may have laid his hand on his heart, and with a winning insinuation in
his countenance, expressed to his neighbor that he was a man who
made his case his own; yet I will engage, a player in Covent Garden
might hit such an attitude a thousand times before he would have been
regarded.”
24. Take off my shoes)—Ver. 124. As to the “socci,” or low shoes of
the ancients, see the Notes to the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 720, in
Bohn’s Translation. It was the especial duty of certain slaves to take
off the shoes of their masters.
25. To spread the couches)—Ver. 125. The “lecti” or “couches” upon
which the ancients reclined at meals, have been enlarged upon in the
Notes to Plautus, where full reference is also made to the “coena” or
“dinner,” and other meals of the Romans.
26. Provide me with dress)—Ver. 130. It was the custom for the
mistress and female servants in each family to make the clothes of the
master. Thus in the Fasti of Ovid, B. ii., l. 746, Lucretia is found
amidst her female servants, making a cloak, or “lacerna,” for her
husband. Suetonius says that Augustus refused to wear any garments
not woven by his female relations. Cooke seems to think that
“vestiant” alludes to the very act of putting the clothes upon a person.
He says, “The better sort of people had eating-dresses, which are here
alluded to. These dresses were light garments, to put on as soon as they
had bathed. They commonly bathed before eating, and the chief meal
was in the evening.” This, however, does not seem to be the meaning
of the passage, although Colman has adopted it. We may here remark
that the censure here described is not unlike that mentioned in the

Prologue to the Mercator of Plautus, as administered by Demænetus to
his son Charinus.
27. Neither movables)—Ver. 141. “Vas” is here used as a general name
for articles of furniture. This line appears to be copied almost literally
from one of Menander, which still exists.
28. To sell my house)—Ver. 145. On the mode of advertising houses to
let or be sold among the Romans, see the Trinummus of Plautus, l.
168, and the Note to the passage in Bohn’s Translation.
29. Toward your children)—Ver. 151. The plural “liberos” is here used
to signify the one son which Menedemus has. So in the Hecyra, l. 217,
the same word is used to signify but one daughter. This was a common
mode of expression in the times of the earlier Latin authors.
30. Festival of Bacchus, “Dionysia”)—Ver. 162. It is generally
supposed that there were four Festivals called the Dionysia, during the
year, at Athens. The first was the Rural, or Lesser Dionysia, κατ᾽
ἀγροὺς, a vintage festival, which was celebrated in the “Demi” or
boroughs of Attica, in honor of Bacchus, in the month Poseidon. This
was the most ancient of the Festivals, and was held with the greatest
merriment and freedom; the slaves then enjoyed the same amount of
liberty as they did at the Saturnalia at Rome. The second Festival,
which was called the Lensea, from ληνὸς, a wine-press, was celebrated
in the month Gamelion, with Scenic contests in Tragedy and Comedy.
The third Dionysian Festival was the Anthesteria, or “Spring feast,”
being celebrated during three days in the month Anthesterion. The first
day was called πιθοίγια, or “the Opening of the casks,” as on that day
the casks were opened to taste the wine of the preceding year. The
second day was called χοες, from χοῦς, “a cup,” and was probably
devoted to drinking. The third day was called χυτροὶ, from χυτρὸς, “a
pot,” as on it persons offered pots with flower-seeds or cooked
vegetables to Dionysus or Bacchus. The fourth Attic festival of
Dionysius was celebrated in the month Elaphebolion, and was called
the Dionysia ἐν ἄστει, Αστικὰ, or Μεγαλὰ, the “City” or “great”
festival. It was celebrated with great magnificence, processions and
dramatic representations forming part of the ceremonial. From Greece,

by way of Sicily, the Bacchanalia, or festivals of Bacchus, were
introduced into Rome, where they became the scenes of and pretext for
every kind of vice and debauchery, until at length they were put down
in the year B.C. 187, with a strong hand, by the Consuls Spurius
Posthumius Albinus and Q. Marcius Philippus; from which period the
words “bacchor” and “bacchator” became synonymous with the
practice of every kind of vice and turpitude that could outrage common
decency. See a very full account of the Dionysia and the Bacchanalia
in Dr. Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities.
31. Is of service to him)—Ver. 199. He means that it is to the advantage
of Clitipho that Clinia should be seen to stand in awe of his father.
32. Reasonable men)—Ver. 205. “Homo,” “a man,” is here put for men
in general who are fathers.
33. Of knowing and of pardoning)—Ver. 218. There is a jingle
intended here in the resemblance of the words “cognoscendi,”
“knowing,” and “ignoscendi,” “pardoning.”
34. Is—fair words)—Ver. 228. “Recte est.” It is supposed that he
pauses before uttering these words, which mean “very well,” or “very
good,” implying the giving an assent without making a promise; he
tells the reason, in saying that he has scruples or prejudices against
confessing that he has got nothing to give her.
35. Great way from here)—Ver. 239. That is, from the place where
they are, in the country, to Athens.
36. Troop of female attendants)—Ver. 245. The train and expenses of a
courtesan of high station are admirably depicted in the speech of
Lysiteles, in the Trinummus of Plautus, l. 252.
37. In a mourning dress)—Ver. 286. Among the Greeks, in general,
mourning for the dead seems to have lasted till the thirtieth day after
the funeral, and during that period black dresses were worn. The
Romans also wore mourning for the dead, which seems, in the time of
the Republic, to have been black or dark blue for either sex. Under the
Empire the men continued to wear black, but the women wore white.
No jewels or ornaments were worn upon these occasions.

38. With no worthless woman’s trumpery)—Ver. 289. By “nullâ malâ
re muliebri” he clearly means that they did not find her painted up with
the cosmetics which some women were in the habit of using. Such
preparations for the face as white-lead, wax, antimony, or vermilion,
well deserve the name of “mala res.” A host of these cosmetics will be
found described in Ovid’s Fragment “On the Care of the Complexion,”
and much information upon this subject is given in various passages in
the Art of Love. In the Remedy of Love, l. 351, Ovid speaks of these
practices in the following terms: “At the moment, too, when she shall
be smearing her face with the cosmetics laid up on it, you may come
into the presence of your mistress, and don’t let shame prevent you.
You will find there boxes, and a thousand colors of objects; and you
will see ‘oesypum,’ the ointment of the fleece, trickling down and
flowing upon her heated bosom. These drugs, Phineus, smell like thy
tables; not once alone has sickness been caused by this to my
stomach.” Lucretius also, in his Fourth Book, l. 1168, speaks of a
female who “covers herself with noxious odors, and whom her female
attendants fly from to a distance, and chuckle by stealth.” See also the
Mostellaria of Plautus, Act I., Scene 3, l. 135, where Philematium is
introduced making her toilet on the stage.
39. Do hold your peace)—Ver. 291. “Pax,” literally “peace!” in the
sense of “Hush!” “Be quiet!” See the Notes to the Trinummus of
Plautus, ll. 889-891, in Bohn’s Translation.
40. The woof)—Ver. 293. See an interesting passage on the ancient
weaving, in the Metamorphoses of Ovid, B. vi., l. 54, et seq. See also
the Epistle of Penelope to Ulysses, in the Heroides of Ovid, l. 10, and
the Note in Bohn’s English Translation.
41. She was weaving)—Ver. 294. This line and part of the next are
supposed to have been translated almost literally from some lines, the
composition of Menander, which are still extant.
42. Your Bacchis, whom we are bringing)—Ver. 310. Colman has the
following remark: “Here we enter upon the other part of the table,
which the Poet has most artfully complicated with the main subject by

making Syrus bring Clitipho’s mistress along with Antiphila. This part
of the story, we know, was not in Menander.”
43. Incur this risk)—Ver. 337. As to his own mistress.
44. Upon either ear)—Ver. 342. “In aurem utramvis,” a proverbial
expression, implying an easy and secure repose. It is also used by
Plautus, and is found in a fragment of the Πλοκιὸν, or Necklace,
a Comedy of Menander.
45. Still do that which I said)—Ver. 346. “Perge porro, tamen istue
ago.” Stallbaum observes that the meaning is: “Although I’m going
off, I’m still attending to what you’re saying.” According to Schmieder
and others, it means: “Call on just as you please, I shall persist in
sending Bacchis away.”
46. Such great people)—Ver. 363. “Quos,” literally, “What persons!”
47. Words of double meaning)—Ver. 372. “Inversa verba, eversas
cervices tuas.” “Inversa verba” clearly means, words with a double
meaning, or substituted for others by previous arrangement, like
correspondence by cipher. Lucretius uses the words in this sense, B. i.,
l. 643. A full account of the secret signs and correspondence in use
among the ancients will be found in the 16th and 17th Epistles of the
Heroides of Ovid, in his Amours, B. i., El. 4, and in various passages
of the Art of Love. See also the Asinaria of Plautus, l. 780. It is not
known for certain what “eversa cervix” here means; it may mean the
turning of the neck in some particular manner by way of a hint or to
give a sidelong look, or it may allude to the act of snatching a kiss on
the sly, which might lead to a discovery.
48. A man whose manners—those persons)—Ver. 393. “Cujus—hi;”
a change of number by the use of the figure Enallage.
49. I can scarce endure it)—Ver. 400. Colman has the following
remark on this passage: “Madame Dacier, contrary to the authority of
all editions and MSS., adopts a conceit of her father’s in this place, and
places this speech to Clitipho, whom she supposes to have retired to a
hiding-place, where he might overhear the conversation, and from
whence he peeps out to make this speech to Syrus. This she calls an

agreeable jeu de théâtre, and doubts not but all lovers of Terence will
be obliged to her father for so ingenious a remark; but it is to be feared
that critical sagacity will not be so lavish of acknowledgments as filial
piety. There does not appear the least foundation for this remark in the
Scene, nor has the Poet given us the least room to doubt of Clitipho
being actually departed. To me, instead of an agreeable jeu de théâtre,
it appears a most absurd and ridiculous device; particularly vicious in
this place, as it most injudiciously tends to interrupt the course of
Clinia’s more interesting passion, so admirably delineated in this little
Scene.”
50. It is now daybreak)—Ver. 410. Though this is the only Play which
includes more than one day in the action, it is not the only one in
which the day is represented as breaking. The Amphitryon and the
Curculio of Plautus commence before daybreak, and the action is
carried on into the middle of the day. Madame Dacier absolutely
considers it as a fact beyond all doubt, that the Roman Audience went
home after the first two Acts of the Play, and returned for the
representation of the third the next morning at daybreak. Scaliger was
of the same opinion; but it is not generally entertained by
Commentators.
51. How I was affected)—Ver. 436. “Ut essem,” literally, “How I was.”
52. If a satrap)—Ver. 452. “Satrapa” was a Persian word signifying “a
ruler of a province.” The name was considered as synonymous with
“possessor of wealth almost inexhaustible.”
53. In tasting only)—Ver. 457. “Pytiso” was the name given to the
nasty practice of tasting wine, and then spitting it out; offensive in a
man, but infinitely more so in a woman. It seems in those times to
have been done by persons who wished to give themselves airs in the
houses of private persons; at the present day it is probably confined to
wine-vaults and sale-rooms where wine is put up to auction, and even
there it is practiced much more than is either necessary or agreeable.
Doubtless Bacchis did it to show her exquisite taste in the matter of
wines.

54. Is too acid)—Ver. 458. “Asperum;” meaning that the wine was not
old enough for her palate. The great fault of the Greek wines was their
tartness, for which reason sea-water was mixed with them all except
the Chian, which was the highest class of wine.
55. Respected sir)—Ver. 459. “Pater,” literally “father;” a title by
which the young generally addressed aged persons who were strangers
to them.
56. All the casks, all the vessels)—Ver. 460. “Dolia omnia, omnes
serias.” The finer kinds of wine were drawn off from the “dolia,” or
large vessels, into the “amphoræ,” which, like the “dolia,” were made
of earth, and sometimes of glass. The mouths of the vessels were
stopped tight by a plug of wood or cork, which was made impervious
to the atmosphere by being rubbed over with a composition of pitch,
clay, wax, or gypsum. On the outside, the title of the wine was painted,
and among the Romans the date of the vintage was denoted by the
names of the Consuls then in office. When the vessels were of glass,
small tickets or labels, called “pittacia,” were suspended from them,
stating to a similar effect. The “seriæ” were much the same as the
“dolia,” perhaps somewhat smaller; they were both long, bell-mouthed
vessels of earthen-ware, formed of the best clay, and lined with pitch
while hot from the furnace. “Seriæ” were also used to contain oil and
other liquids; and in the Captivi of Plautus the word is applied to pans
used for the purpose of salting meat. “Relino” signifies the act of
taking the seal of pitch or wax off the stopper of the wine-vessel.
57. With that servant of yours)—Ver. 473. Dromo.
58. What an inlet)—Ver. 482. “Fenestram;” literally, “a window.”
59. This night with my eyes)—Ver. 491. Colman has the following
Note here: “Hedelin obstinately contends from this passage, that
neither Chremes nor any of his family went to bed the whole night; the
contrary of which is evident, as Menage observes, from the two next
Scenes. For why should Syrus take notice of his being up so early, if
he had never retired to rest? Or would Chremes have reproached
Clitipho for his behavior the night before, had the feast never been

interrupted? Eugraphius’s interpretation of these words is natural and
obvious, who explains them to signify that the anxiety of Chremes to
restore Clinia to Menedemus broke his rest.”
60. That they may not perceive)—Ver. 511. Madame Dacier observes
that Chremes seizes this as a very plausible and necessary pretense to
engage Menedemus to return home, and not to his labors in the field,
as he had at first intended.
61. Old age of an eagle)—Ver. 521. This was a proverbial expression,
signifying a hale and vigorous old age. It has been suggested, too, that
it alludes to the practice of some old men, who drink more than they
eat. It was vulgarly said that eagles never die of old age, and that
when, by reason of their beaks growing inward, they are unable to feed
upon their prey, they live by sucking the blood.
62. Not like those of former days)—Ver. 524. Syrus, by showing
himself an admirer of the good old times, a “laudator temporis acti,” is
wishful to flatter the vanity of Chremes, as it is a feeling common to
old age, perhaps by no means an unamiable one, to think former times
better than the present. Aged people feel grateful to those happy hours
when their hopes were bright, and every thing was viewed from the
sunny side of life.
63. Can no longer support her expenses)—Ver. 544. He refers to
Menedemus and Bacchis.
64. But in case, none the more)—Ver. 555. “Sed si quid, ne quid.” An
instance of Aposiopesis, signifying “But if any thing does happen,
don’t you blame me.”
65. And truly, Chremes)—Ver. 557. Some suppose that this is said in
apparent candor by Syrus, in order the more readily to throw Chremes
off his guard. Other Commentators, again, fancy these words to be said
by Syrus in a low voice, aside, which seems not improbable; it being a
just retribution on Chremes for his recommendation, however well
intended: in that case, Chremes probably overhears it, if we may judge
from his answer.

66. ’Tis the truth)—Ver. 568. “Factum.” “Done for” is anothor
translation which this word will here admit of.
67. That he does the same)—Ver. 577. Clinia.
68. Of a prudent and discreet person)—Ver. 580. This is said
ironically.
69. Is there but one way)—Ver. 583. And that an immodest one.
70. With your wife)—Ver. 604. Madame Dacier remarks, that as
Antiphila is shortly to be acknowledged as the daughter of Chremes,
she is not therefore in company with the other women at the feast, who
are Courtesans, but with the wife of Chremes, and consequently free
from reproach or scandal.
71. Would she really be a security)—Ver. 606. The question of
Chremes seems directed to the fact whether the girl is of value
sufficient to be good security for the thousand drachmæ.
72. You shall soon know)—Ver. 612. Madame Dacier suggests that
Chremes is prevented by his wife’s coming from making a proposal to
advance the money himself, on the supposition that it will be a
lucrative speculation. This notion is contradicted by Colman, who adds
the following note from Eugraphius: “Syrus pretends to have concerted
this plot against Menedemus, in order to trick him out of some money
to be given to Clinia’s supposed mistress. Chremes, however, does not
approve of this: yet it serves to carry on the plot; for when Antiphila
proves afterward to be the daughter of Chremes, he necessarily
becomes the debtor of Bacchis, and is obliged to lay down the sum for
which he imagines his daughter is pledged.”
73. Has gained a loss)—Ver. 628. He alludes to Clitipho, who, by the
discovery of his sister, would not come in for such a large share of his
father’s property, and would consequently, as Syrus observes, gain a
loss.
74. That she might not be without)—Ver. 652. Madame Dacier
observes upon this passage, that the ancients thought themselves guilty
of a heinous offense if they suffered their children to die without

having bestowed on them some of their property; it was consequently
the custom of the women, before exposing children, to attach to them
some jewel or trinket among their clothes, hoping thereby to avoid
incurring the guilt above mentioned, and to ease their consciences.
75. Saving of yourself and her)—Ver. 653. Madame Dacier says that
the meaning of this passage is this: Chremes tells his wife that by
having given this ring, she has done two good acts instead of one—she
has both cleared her conscience and saved the child; for had there been
no ring or token exposed with the infant, the finder would not have
been at the trouble of taking care of it, but might have left it to perish,
never suspecting it would be inquired after, or himself liberally
rewarded for having preserved it.
76. I see more hopes)—Ver. 659. Syrus is now alarmed that Antiphila
should so soon be acknowledged as the daughter of Chremes, lest he
may lose the opportunity of obtaining the money, and be punished as
well, in case the imposition is detected, and Bacchis discovered to be
the mistress of Clitipho and not of Clinia.
77. A man can not be)—Ver. 666. This he says by way of palliating the
cruelty he was guilty of in his orders to have the child put to death.
78. Unless my fancy deceives me)—Ver. 668. “Nisi me animus fallit.”
He comically repeats the very same words with which Sostrata
commenced in the last Scene.
79. Retribution)—Ver. 668. “Infortunium!” was the name by which the
slaves commonly denoted a beating. Colman has the following remark
here: “Madame Dacier, and most of the later critics who have
implicitly followed her, tell us that in the interval between the third
and fourth Acts, Syrus has been present at the interview between
Chremes and Antiphila within. The only difficulty in this doctrine is
how to reconcile it to the apparent ignorance of Syrus, which he
discovers at the entrance of Clinia. But this objection, says she, is
easily answered. Syrus having partly heard Antiphila’s story, and
finding things likely to take an unfavorable turn, retires to consider
what is best to be done. But surely this is a most unnatural impatience

at so critical a conjuncture; and, after all, would it not be better to take
up the matter just where Terence has left it, and to suppose that Syrus
knew nothing more of the affair than what might be collected from the
late conversation between Chremes and Sostrata, at which we know he
was present? This at once accounts for his apprehensions, which he
betrayed even during that Scene, as well as for his imperfect
knowledge of the real state of the case, till apprised of the whole by
Clinia.”
80. With my sides covered)—Ver. 673. He most probably alludes to the
custom of tying up the slaves by their hands, after stripping them
naked, when of course their “latera” or “sides” would be exposed, and
come in for a share of the lashes.
81. Runaway money)—Ver. 678. “Fugitivum argentum.” Madame
Dacier suggests that this is a bad translation of the words of Menander,
which were “ἀποστρέψειν τὸν δραπέταν χρυσὸν” where “χρυσὸς”
signified both “gold” and the name of a slave.
82. If the sky were to fall)—Ver. 719. He means those who create
unnecessary difficulties in their imagination. Colman quotes the
following remark from Patrick: “There is a remarkable passage in
Arrian’s Account of Alexander, lib. iv., where he tells us that some
embassadors from the Celtic, being asked by Alexander what in the
world they dreaded most, answered, ‘That they feared lest the sky
should fall [upon them].’ Alexander, who expected to hear himself
named, was surprised at an answer which signified that they thought
themselves beyond the reach of all human power, plainly implying that
nothing could hurt them, unless he would suppose impossibilities, or a
total destruction of nature.” Aristotle, in his Physics, B. iv., informs us
that it was the early notion of ignorant nations that the sky was
supported on the shoulders of Atlas, and that when he let go of it, it
would fall.
83. To a very fine purpose)—Ver. 723. “Satis pol proterve,” &c.
C. Lælius was said to have assisted Terence in the composition of his
Plays, and in confirmation of this, the following story is told by
Cornelius Nepos: “C. Lælius, happening to pass the Matronalia [a

Festival on the first of March, when the husband, for once in the year,
was bound to obey the wife] at his villa near Puteoli, was told that
dinner was waiting, but still neglected the summons. At last, when he
made his appearance, he excused himself by saying that he had been in
a particular vein of composition, and quoted certain lines which occur
in the Heautontimorumenos, namely, those beginning ‘Satis pol
proterve me Syri promissa huc induxerunt.’”
84. They’re asleep)—Ver. 730. “Dormiunt.” This is clearly used
figuratively, though Hedelin interprets it literally.
85. Farm here on the right-hand side)—Ver. 732. Cooke suggests that
the Poet makes Bacchis call the house of Charinus “villa,” and that of
Chremes “fundus” (which signifies “a farm-house,” or “farm”), for the
purpose of exalting the one and depreciating the other in the hearing of
Syrus.
86. The feast of Bacchus)—Ver. 733. This passage goes far to prove
that the Dionysia here mentioned as being celebrated, were those κατ᾽
ἀγρους, or the “rural Dionysia.”
87. Let’s be going)—Ver. 742. Colman here remarks to the following
effect: “There is some difficulty in this and the next speech in the
original, and the Commentators have been puzzled to make sense of
them. It seems to me that the Poet’s intention is no more than this:
Bacchis expresses some reluctance to act under the direction of Syrus,
but is at length prevailed on, finding that he can by those means
contrive to pay her the money which he has promised her.”
88. Rigorous law)—Ver. 796. Cicero mentions the same proverb in his
work De Officiis, B. i., ch. 10, substituting the word “injuria” for
“malitia.” “‘Extreme law, extreme injustice,’ is now become a stale
proverb in discourse.” The same sentiment is found in the Fragments
of Menander.
89. Are sanctioned by custom)—Ver. 839. He inveighs, perhaps justly,
against the tyranny of custom; but in selecting this occasion for doing
so, he does not manifest any great affection for his newly-found
daughter.

90. Assistant, prompter, and director)—Ver. 875. The three terms here
used are borrowed from the stage. “Adjutor” was the person who
assisted the performers either by voice or gesture; “monitor” was the
prompter; and “præmonstrator” was the person who in the rehearsal
trained the actor in his part.
91. Dolt, post, ass)—Ver. 877. There is a similar passage in the
Bacchides of Plautus, l. 1087. “Whoever there are in any place
whatsoever, whoever have been, and whoever shall be in time to come,
fools, blockheads, idiots, dolts, sots, oafs, lubbers, I singly by far
exceed them all in folly and absurd ways.”
92. Mould the countenances of people)—Ver. 887. He means that
Syrus not only lays his plots well, but teaches the performers to put on
countenances suitable to the several parts they are to act.
93. Has moulded your son)—Ver. 898. “Mire finxit.” He sarcastically
uses the same word, “fingo,” which Chremes himself employed in l.
887.
94. Substance to suffice for ten days)—Ver. 909. “Familia” here means
“property,” as producing sustenance. Colman, however, has translated
the passage: “Mine is scarce a ten-days’ family.”
95. His she-friend rather)—Ver. 911. Menedemus speaks of “amico,”
a male friend, which Chremes plays upon by saying “amicae,” which
literally meant a she-friend, and was the usual name by which decent
people called a mistress.
96. And forsake you)—Ver. 924. Madame Dacier observes here, that
one of the great beauties of this Scene consists in Chremes retorting on
Menedemus the very advice given by himself at the beginning of the
Play.
97. Which he has done to me)—Ver. 954. Colman has the following
Note: “The departure of Menedemus here is very abrupt, seeming to be
in the midst of a conversation; and his re-entrance with Clitipho,
already supposed to be apprised of what has passed between the two
old gentlemen, is equally precipitate. Menage imagines that some
verses are lost here. Madame Dacier strains hard to defend the Poet,

and fills up the void of time by her old expedient of making the
Audience wait to see Chremes walk impatiently to and fro, till a
sufficient time is elapsed for Menedemus to have given Clitipho a
summary account of the cause of his father’s anger. The truth is, that a
too strict observance of the unity of place will necessarily produce
such absurdities; and there are several other instances of the like nature
in Terence.”
98. Intrusted every thing)—Ver. 966. This is an early instance of a
trusteeship and a guardianship.
99. It’s all over)—Ver. 974. “Ilicet,” literally, “you may go away.” This
was the formal word with which funeral ceremonies and trials at law
were concluded.
100. Look out for an altar)—Ver. 975. He alludes to the practice of
slaves taking refuge at altars when they had committed any fault, and
then suing for pardon through a “precator” or “mediator.” See the
Mostellaria of Plautus, l. 1074, where Tranio takes refuge at the altar
from the vengeance of his master, Theuropides.
101. Amounts to the same thing)—Ver. 1010. “Quam quidem redit ad
integrum eadem oratio;” meaning, “it amounts to one and the same
thing,” or, “it is all the same thing,” whether you do or whether you
don’t know.
102. Because my daughter has been found)—Ver. 1018. This sentence
has given much trouble to the Commentators. Colman has the
following just remarks upon it: “Madame Dacier, as well as all the rest
of the Commentators, has stuck at these words. Most of them imagine
she means to say, that the discovery of Antiphila is a plain proof that
she is not barren. Madame Dacier supposes that she intimates such a
proof to be easy, because Clitipho and Antiphila were extremely alike;
which sense she thinks immediately confirmed by the answer of
Chremes. I can not agree with any of them, and think that the whole
difficulty of the passage here, as in many other places, is entirely of
their own making. Sostrata could not refer to the reply of Chremes,
because she could not possibly tell what it would be; but her own

speech is intended as an answer to his preceding one, which she takes
as a sneer on her late wonderful discovery of a daughter; imagining
that he means to insinuate that she could at any time with equal ease
make out the proofs of the birth of her son. The elliptical mode of
expression so usual with Terence, together with the refinements of
Commentators, seem to have created all the obscurity.”
103. By your profligacy)—Ver. 1036. It is probably this ebullition of
Comic anger which is referred to by Horace, in his Art of Poetry:
“Interdum tamen et vocem Comœdia tollit,
Iratusque Chremes tumido delitigat ore:”
“Yet sometimes Comedy as well raises her voice, and enraged
Chremes censures in swelling phrase.”
104. I don’t know as to the Gods)—Ver. 1037. “Deos nescio.” The
Critic Lambinis, in his letter to Charles the Ninth of France, accuses
Terence of impiety in this passage. Madame Dacier has, however, well
observed, that the meaning is not “I care not for the Gods,” but “I
know not what the Gods will do.”
105. And close with the offer)—Ver. 1048. “Firmas.” This ratification
or affirmation would be made by Menedemus using the formal word
“Accipio,” “I accept.”
106. Freckled face)—Ver. 1060. Many take “sparso ore” here to mean
“wide-mouthed.” Lemonnier thinks that must be the meaning, as he
has analyzed the other features of her countenance. There is, however,
no reason why he should not speak of her complexion; and it seems,
not improbably, to have the same meaning as the phrase “os
lentiginosum,” “a freckled face.”

ADELPHI;
THE BROTHERS,

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Demea,1 Brother, aged Athenian.
Micio,2 Brother, aged Athenian.
Hegio,3 an aged Athenian, kinsman of Sostrata.
Æschinus,4 son of Demea, adopted by Micio.
Ctesipho,5 another son of Demea.
Sannio,6 a Procurer.
Geta,7 servant of Sostrata.
Parmeno,8 servant of Micio.
Syrus,9 servant of Micio.
Dromo,10 servant of Micio.
Pamphila,11 a young woman beloved by Æschinus.
Sostrata,12 a widow, mother of Pamphila.
Canthara,13 a Nurse.
A Music-girl.

Scene.—Athens; before the houses of Micio and Sostrata.

T H E S U B J E C T.

Micio and Demea are two brothers of dissimilar tempers. Demea is married,
and lives a country life, while his brother remains single, and resides in
Athens. Demea has two sons, the elder of whom, Æschinus, has been
adopted by Micio. Being allowed by his indulgent uncle to gratify his
inclinations without restraint, Æschinus has debauched Pamphila, the
daughter of a widow named Sostrata. Having, however, promised to marry
the young woman, he has been pardoned for the offense, and it has been
kept strictly secret. Ctesipho, who lives in the country with his father under
great restraint, on visiting the city, falls in love with a certain Music-girl,
who belongs to the Procurer Sannio. To screen his brother, Æschinus takes
the responsibility of the affair on himself, and succeeds in carrying off the
girl for him. Demea, upon hearing of this, censures Micio for his ill-timed
indulgence, the bad effects of which are thus exemplified in Æschinus; and
at the same time lauds the steady conduct and frugality of Ctesipho, who
has been brought up under his own supervision. Shortly after this, Sostrata
hears the story about the Music-girl, at the very time that her daughter
Pamphila is in labor. She naturally supposes that Æschinus has deserted her
daughter for another, and hastens to acquaint Hegio, her kinsman, with the
fact. Meantime Demea learns that Ctesipho has taken part in carrying off
the Music-girl, whereon Syrus invents a story, and screens Ctesipho for the
moment. Demea is next informed by Hegio of the conduct of Æschinus
toward Pamphila. Wishing to find his brother, he is purposely sent on a
fruitless errand by Syrus, on which he wanders all over the city to no
purpose. Micio having now been informed by Hegio, and knowing that the
intentions of Æschinus toward Pamphila are not changed, accompanies him
to the house of Sostrata, whom he consoles by his promise that Æschinus
shall marry her daughter. Demea then returns from his search, and, rushing
into Micio’s house, finds his son Ctesipho there carousing; on which he
exclaims vehemently against Micio, who uses his best endeavors to soothe
him, and finally with success. He now determines to become kind and
considerate for the future. At his request, Pamphila is brought to Micio’s
house; and the nuptials are celebrated. Micio, at the earnest request of
Demea and Æschinus, marries Sostrata; Hegio has a competency allowed
him; and Syrus and his wife Phrygia are made free. The Play concludes
with a serious warning from Demea, who advises his relatives not to
squander their means in riotous living; but, on the contrary, to bear

admonition and to submit to restraint in a spirit of moderation and
thankfulness.

T H E T I T L E O F T H E P L A Y.

Performed at the Funeral Games of Æmilius Paulus,14 which were
celebrated by Q. Fabius Maximus and P. Cornelius Africanus. L. Atilius
Prænestinus and Minutius Prothimus performed it. Flaccus, the freedman of
Claudius, composed the music for Sarranian flutes.15 Taken from the Greek
of Menander, L. Anicius and M. Cornelius being Consuls.16

ADELPHI;
THE BROTHERS,

THE SUMMARY OF C. SULPITIUS APOLLINARIS.
As Demea has two sons, young men, he gives Æschinus to his brother
Micio to be adopted by him; but he retains Ctesipho: him, captivated with
the charms of a Music-girl, and under a harsh and strict father, his brother
Æschinus screens; the scandal of the affair and the amour he takes upon
himself; at last, he carries the Music-girl away from the Procurer. This same
Æschinus has previously debauched a poor woman, a citizen of Athens, and
has given his word that she shall be his wife. Demea upbraids him, and is
greatly vexed; afterward, however, when the truth is discovered, Æschinus
marries the girl who has been debauched; and, his harsh father Demea now
softened, Ctesipho retains the Music-girl.

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 Play that we are about to
perform, he shall give information about himself; you shall be the judges
whether this ought to be esteemed to his praise or to his discredit. The
Synapothnescontes17 is a Comedy of Diphilus;18 Plautus made it into a Play
called the “Commorientes.” In the Greek, there is a young man, who, at the
early part of the Play, carries off a Courtesan from a Procurer; that part

Plautus has entirely left out. This portion he has adopted in the Adelphi, and
has transferred it, translated word for word. This new Play we are about to
perform; determine then whether you think a theft has been committed, or a
passage has been restored to notice which has been passed over in neglect.
For as to what these malevolent persons say, that men of noble rank assist
him, and are always writing in conjunction with him—that which they
deem to be a heavy crimination, he takes to be the highest praise; since he
pleases those who please you all and the public; the aid of whom in war, in
peace, in private business,19 each one has availed himself of, on his own
occasion, without any haughtiness on their part. Now then, do not expect
the plot of the Play; the old men20 who come first will disclose it in part;
a part in the representation they will make known. Do you cause your
impartial attention to increase the industry of the Poet in writing.

ACT THE FIRST.
Scene I.

Enter Micio, calling to a servant within.
Mic. Storax! Æschinus has not returned home from the entertainment last
night, nor any of the servants who went to fetch him.21 (To himself.) Really,
they say it with reason, if you are absent any where, or if you stay abroad at
any time, ’twere better for that to happen which your wife says against you,
and which in her passion she imagines in her mind, than the things which
fond parents fancy. A wife, if you stay long abroad, either imagines that you
are in love or are beloved, or that you are drinking and indulging your
inclination, and that you only are taking your pleasure, while she herself is
miserable. As for myself, in consequence of my son not having returned
home, what do I imagine? In what ways am I not disturbed? For fear lest he
may either have taken cold,22 or have fallen down somewhere, or have
broken some limb. Oh dear! that any man should take it into his head, or
find out what is dearer to him than he is to himself! And yet he is not my

son, but my brother’s. He is quite different in disposition. I, from my very
youth upward, have lived a comfortable town life, and taken my ease; and,
what they esteem a piece of luck, I have never had a wife. He, on the
contrary to all this, has spent his life in the country, and has always lived
laboriously and penuriously. He married a wife, and has two sons. This one,
the elder of them, I have adopted. I have brought him up from an infant,
and considered and loved him as my own. In him I centre my delight; this
object alone is dear to me. On the other hand, I take all due care that he may
hold me equally dear. I give—I overlook; I do not judge it necessary to
exert my authority in every thing; in fine, the things that youth prompts to,
and that others do unknown to their fathers, I have used my son not to
conceal from me. For he, who, as the practice is, will dare to tell a lie to or
to deceive his father, will still more dare to do so to others. I think it better
to restrain children through a sense of shame and liberal treatment, than
through fear. On these points my brother does not agree with me, nor do
they please him. He often comes to me exclaiming, “What are you about,
Micio? Why do you ruin for us this youth? Why does he intrigue? Why
does he drink? Why do you supply him with the means for these goings on?
You indulge him with too much dress; you are very inconsiderate.” He
himself is too strict, beyond what is just and reasonable; and he is very
much mistaken, in my opinion, at all events, who thinks that an authority is
more firm or more lasting which is established by force, than that which is
founded on affection. Such is my mode of reasoning;
and thus do I persuade myself. He, who, compelled by harsh treatment,
does his duty, so long as he thinks it will be known, is on his guard: if he
hopes that it will be concealed, he again returns to his natural bent. He
whom you have secured by kindness, acts from inclination; he is anxious to
return like for like; present and absent, he will be the same. This is the duty
of a parent, to accustom a son to do what is right rather of his own choice,
than through fear of another. In this the father differs from the master: he
who can not do this, let him confess that he does not know how to govern
children. But is not this the very man of whom I was speaking? Surely it is
he. I don’t know why it is I see him out of spirits; I suppose he’ll now be
scolding as usual. Demea, I am glad to see you well.23

Scene II.

Enter Demea.

Dem. Oh,—opportunely met; you are the very man I was looking for.24
Mic. Why are you out of spirits?
Dem. Do you ask me, when we have such a son as Æschinus,25 why I’m out
of spirits?
Mic. (aside.) Did I not say it would be so? (To Demea.) What has he been
doing?
Dem. What has he been doing? He, who is ashamed of nothing, and fears no
one, nor thinks that any law can control him. But I pass by what has been
previously done: what a thing he has just perpetrated!
Mic. Why, what is it?
Dem. He has broken open a door,26 and forced his way into another person’s
house, beaten to death the master himself, and all the household, and
carried off a wench whom he had a fancy for. All people are exclaiming that
it was a most disgraceful proceeding. How many, Micio, told me of this as I
was coming here? It is in every body’s mouth. In fine, if an example must
be cited, does he not see his brother giving his attention to business, and
living frugally and soberly in the country? No action of his is like this.
When I say this to him, Micio, I say it to you. You allow him to be
corrupted.
Mic. Never is there any thing more unreasonable than a man who wants
experience, who thinks nothing right except what he himself has done.
Dem. What is the meaning of that?
Mic. Because, Demea, you misjudge these matters. It is no heinous crime,
believe me, for a young man to intrigue or to drink; it is not; nor yet for him
to break open a door. If neither I nor you did so, it was poverty that did not
allow us to do so. Do you now claim that as a merit to yourself, which you
then did from necessity? That is unfair; for if we had had the means to do
so, we should have done the same. And, if you were a man, you would now

suffer that other son of yours to act thus now, while his age will excuse it,
rather than, when he has got you, after long wishing it, out of the way, he
should still do so, at a future day, and at an age more unsuited.
Dem. O Jupiter! You, sir, are driving me to distraction. Is it not a heinous
thing for a young man to do these things?
Mic. Oh! do listen to me, and do not everlastingly din me upon this subject.
You gave me your son to adopt; he became mine; if he offends in any thing,
Demea, he offends against me: in that case I shall bear the greater part of
the inconvenience. Does he feast,27 does he drink, does he smell of
perfumes,28—it is at my cost. Does he intrigue, money shall be found by
me, so long as it suits me; when it shall be no longer convenient, probably
he’ll be shut out of doors.29 Has he broken open a door—it shall be
replaced; has he torn any one’s clothes—they shall be mended. Thanks to
the Gods, I both have means for doing this, and these things are not as yet
an annoyance. In fine, either desist, or else find some arbitrator between us:
I will show that in this matter you are the most to blame.
Dem. Ah me! Learn to be a father from those who are really so.
Mic. You are his father by nature, I by my anxiety.
Dem. You, feel any anxiety?
Mic. Oh dear,—if you persist, I’ll leave you.
Dem. Is it thus you act?
Mic. Am I so often to hear about the same thing?
Dem. I have some concern for my son.
Mic. I have some concern for him too; but, Demea, let us each be concerned
for his own share—you for the one, and I for the other. For, to concern
yourself about both is almost the same thing as to demand him back again,
whom you intrusted to me.
Dem. Alas, Micio!
Mic. So it seems to me.

Dem. What am I to say to this? If it pleases you, henceforth—let him spend,
squander, and destroy; it’s nothing to me. If I say one word after this——
Mic. Again angry, Demea?
Dem. Won’t you believe me? Do I demand him back whom I have
intrusted? I am concerned for him; I am not a stranger in blood; if I do
interpose—well, well, I have done. You desire me to concern myself for one
of them,—I do concern myself; and I give thanks to the Gods, he is just as I
would have him; that fellow of yours will find it out at a future day: I don’t
wish to say any thing more harsh against him.
( Exit.)

Scene III.

Micio alone.

Mic. These things are30 not nothing at all, nor yet all just as he says; still
they do give me some uneasiness; but I was unwilling to show him that I
took them amiss, for he is such a man; when I would pacify him, I steadily
oppose and resist him; and in spite of it he hardly puts up with it like other
men; but if I were to inflame, or even to humor his anger, I should certainly
be as mad as himself. And yet Æschinus has done me some injustice in this
affair. What courtesan has he not intrigued with? Or to which of them has he
not made some present? At last, he recently told me that he wished to take a
wife,31 I suppose he was just then tired of them all. I was in hopes that the
warmth of youth had now subsided; I was delighted. But look now, he is at
it again; however, I am determined to know it, whatever it is, and to go
meet the fellow, if he is at the Forum.
( Exit.)

ACT THE SECOND.