by Daisy Dunn
I bring you word that you have got no mistress.
DEMIPHO.
The Gods confound you. Why, prithee, what affair is this?
EUTYCHUS.
I’ll tell you. Give your attention then, both of you.
LYSIMACHUS.
Well then, we are giving you our attention, both of us.
EUTYCHUS.
Those who are born of a good family, if they are of bad tendencies, by their own faultiness withdraw nobleness from their rank, and disgrace their disposition.
DEMIPHO.
He says what’s true.
LYSIMACHUS.
Then it’s to yourself he says it.
EUTYCHUS.
For this reason is this the more true; for at this time of life, it wasn’t just for you to take away from your son, a young man, his mistress, purchased with his own money.
DEMIPHO.
How say you? Is she the mistress of Charinus?
EUTYCHUS. [Aside]
How the rogue does dissemble.
DEMIPHO.
Why, he said that he had bought her as a maidservant for his mother.
EUTYCHUS.
Was it for that reason, then, you bought her, you young lover, you old boy?
LYSIMACHUS.
Very well said, i’ troth! Proceed, proceed. I’ll stand by him here on the other side. Let’s both load him well with such speeches as he’s worthy of.
DEMIPHO. [Aside]
I’m done for.
EUTYCHUS.
Who has done an injustice so great to his blameless son; whom, in fact, upon my faith, I brought back home just when he was setting out in self-banishment; for he was going into exile.
DEMIPHO.
Has he gone then?
LYSIMACHUS.
What, do you speak, you hobgoblin? At this time of life you ought to abstain from those pursuits.
DEMIPHO.
I confess it; undoubtedly I’ve acted wrong.
EUTYCHUS.
What, do you speak, you hobgoblin? You ought at this time of life to have done with these guilty practices. Just as the seasons of the year, so different lines of conduct befit different ages; but if this is proper, that old fellows should be wenching in their old age, where in the world is our common welfare?
DEMIPHO.
Alas! wretch that I am! I’m undone.
EUTYCHUS.
The young men are more in the habit of giving their attention to following those pursuits.
DEMIPHO.
Troth, now, prithee, do take her to yourselves, with pigs and with basket.
EUTYCHUS.
Restore her to your son; let him have her, now, as he wishes.
DEMIPHO.
So far as I’m concerned, he may have her.
EUTYCHUS.
High time, i’ faith, since you haven’t the power of doing otherwise.
DEMIPHO.
For this injury let him take what satisfaction he likes; only do you make peace, I beg of you, that he mayn’t be angry with me. I’ faith, if I had known it, or if, indeed, he had told me in the slightest way of joke that he was in love with her, I should never have proceeded to take her away from him so in love. Eutychus, you are his companion, preserve and rescue me, I beg of you. Make this old fellow your client. You shall say that I’m mindful of a kindness.
And all’s well that ends well.
EUROPA AND THE BULL
‘Idyll II’
Moschus
Translated by Andrew Lang, 1892
In this pastoral Idyll by Moschus, a bucolic poet born in Syracuse, in Sicily, in the mid-second century BC, a young virgin named Europa is sent a curious dream by Aphrodite (‘Cypris’). Her fate is sealed. There are echoes here of the tale of young Persephone (see Story 11), among others. The story of Europa and the bull was particularly popular among artists of the Renaissance.
To Europa, once on a time, a sweet dream was sent by Cypris, when the third watch of the night sets in, and near is the dawning; when sleep more sweet than honey rests on the eyelids, limb-loosening sleep, that binds the eyes with his soft bond, when the flock of truthful dreams fares wandering.
At that hour she was sleeping, beneath the roof-tree of her home, Europa, the daughter of Phoenix, being still a maid unwed. Then she beheld two Continents at strife for her sake, Asia, and the farther shore, both in the shape of women. Of these one had the guise of a stranger, the other of a lady of that land, and closer still she clung about her maiden, and kept saying how ‘she was her mother, and herself had nursed Europa.’ But that other with mighty hands, and forcefully, kept haling the maiden, nothing loth; declaring that, by the will of Aegis-bearing Zeus, Europa was destined to be her prize.
But Europa leaped forth from her strown bed in terror, with beating heart, in such clear vision had she beheld the dream. Then she sat upon her bed, and long was silent, still beholding the two women, albeit with waking eyes; and at last the maiden raised her timorous voice:—
‘Who of the gods of heaven has sent forth to me these phantoms? What manner of dreams have scared me when right sweetly slumbering on my strown bed, within my bower? Ah, and who was the alien woman that I beheld in my sleep? How strange a longing for her seized my heart, yea, and how graciously she herself did welcome me, and regard me as it had been her own child.
‘Ye blessed gods, I pray you, prosper the fulfilment of the dream.’
Therewith she arose, and began to seek the dear maidens of her company, girls of like age with herself, born in the same year, beloved of her heart, the daughters of noble sires, with whom she was always wont to sport, when she was arrayed for the dance, or when she would bathe her bright body at the mouths of the rivers, or would gather fragrant lilies on the leas.
And soon she found them, each bearing in her hand a basket to fill with flowers, and to the meadows near the salt sea they set forth, where always they were wont to gather in their company, delighting in the roses, and the sound of the waves. But Europa herself bore a basket of gold, a marvel well worth gazing on, a choice work of Hephaestus. He gave it to Libya, for a bridal-gift, when she approached the bed of the Shaker of the Earth, and Libya gave it to beautiful Telephassa, who was of her own blood; and to Europa, still an unwedded maid, her mother, Telephassa, gave the splendid gift.
Many bright and cunning things were wrought in the basket: therein was Io, daughter of Inachus, fashioned in gold; still in the shape of a heifer she was, and had not her woman’s shape, and wildly wandering she fared upon the salt sea-ways, like one in act to swim; and the sea was wrought in blue steel. And aloft upon the double brow of the shore, two men were standing together and watching the heifer’s sea-faring. There too was Zeus, son of Cronos, lightly touching with his divine hand the cow of the line of Inachus, and her, by Nile of the seven streams, he was changing again, from a horned heifer to a woman. Silver was the stream of Nile, and the heifer of bronze and Zeus himself was fashioned in gold. And all about, beneath the rim of the rounded basket, was the story of Hermes graven, and near him lay stretched out Argus, notable for his sleepless eyes. And from the red blood of Argus was springing a bird that rejoiced in the flower-bright colour of his feathers, and spreading abroad his tail, even as some swift ship on the sea doth spread all canvas, was covering with his plumes the lips of the golden vessel. Even thus was wrought the basket of the lovely Europa.
Now the girls, so soon as they were come to the flowering meadows, took great delight in various sorts of flowers, whereof one would pluck sweet-breathed narcissus, another the hyacinth, another the violet, a fourth the creeping thyme, and on the ground there fell many petals of the meadows rich with spring. Others again were emulously gathering the fragrant tresses of the yellow crocus; but in the midst of them all the princess culled with her hand the splendour of the crimson rose, and shone pre-eminent among them all like the foam-born goddess among the Graces. Verily she was not for long to set her heart’s delight upon the flowers, nay, nor long to keep untouched her maiden girdle. For o
f a truth, the son of Cronos, so soon as he beheld her, was troubled, and his heart was subdued by the sudden shafts of Cypris, who alone can conquer even Zeus. Therefore, both to avoid the wrath of jealous Hera, and being eager to beguile the maiden’s tender heart, he concealed his god head, and changed his shape, and became a bull. Not such a one as feeds in the stall nor such as cleaves the furrow, and drags the curved plough, nor such as grazes on the grass, nor such a bull as is subdued beneath the yoke, and draws the burdened wain. Nay, but while all the rest of his body was bright chestnut, a silver circle shone between his brows, and his eyes gleamed softly, and ever sent forth lightning of desire. From his brow branched horns of even length, like the crescent of the horned moon, when her disk is cloven in twain. He came into the meadow, and his coming terrified not the maidens, nay, within them all wakened desire to draw nigh the lovely bull, and to touch him, and his heavenly fragrance was scattered afar, exceeding even the sweet perfume of the meadows. And he stood before the feet of fair Europa, and kept licking her neck, and cast his spell over the maiden. And she still caressed him, and gently with her hands she wiped away the deep foam from his lips, and kissed the bull. Then he lowed so gently, ye would think ye heard the Mygdonian flute uttering a dulcet sound.
He bowed himself before her feet, and, bending back his neck, he gazed on Europa, and showed her his broad back. Then she spake among her deep-tressed maidens, saying—
‘Come, dear playmates, maidens of like age with me, let us mount the bull here and take our pastime, for truly, he will bear us on his back, and carry all of us; and how mild he is, and dear, and gentle to behold, and no whit like other bulls. A mind as honest as a man’s possesses him, and he lacks nothing but speech.’
So she spake, and smiling, she sat down on the back of the bull, and the others were about to follow her. But the bull leaped up immediately, now he had gotten her that he desired, and swiftly he sped to the deep. The maiden turned, and called again and again to her dear playmates, stretching out her hands, but they could not reach her. The strand he gained, and forward he sped like a dolphin, faring with unwetted hooves over the wide waves. And the sea, as he came, grew smooth, and the sea-monsters gambolled around, before the feet of Zeus, and the dolphin rejoiced, and rising from the deeps, he tumbled on the swell of the sea. The Nereids arose out of the salt water, and all of them came on in orderly array, riding on the backs of sea-beasts. And himself, the thund’rous Shaker of the World, appeared above the sea, and made smooth the wave, and guided his brother on the salt sea path; and round him were gathered the Tritons, these hoarse trumpeters of the deep, blowing from their long conches a bridal melody.
Meanwhile Europa, riding on the back of the divine bull, with one hand clasped the beast’s great horn, and with the other caught up the purple fold of her garment, lest it might trail and be wet in the hoar sea’s infinite spray. And her deep robe was swelled out by the winds, like the sail of a ship, and lightly still did waft the maiden onward. But when she was now far off from her own country, and neither sea-beat headland nor steep hill could now be seen, but above, the air, and beneath, the limitless deep, timidly she looked around, and uttered her voice, saying—
‘Whither bearest thou me, bull-god? What art thou? how dost thou fare on thy feet through the path of the sea-beasts, nor fearest the sea? The sea is a path meet for swift ships that traverse the brine, but bulls dread the salt sea-ways. What drink is sweet to thee, what food shalt thou find from the deep? Nay, art thou then some god, for godlike are these deeds of thine? Lo, neither do dolphins of the brine fare on land, nor bulls on the deep, but dreadless dost thou rush o’er land and sea alike, thy hooves serving thee for oars.
‘Nay, perchance thou wilt rise above the grey air, and flee on high, like the swift birds. Alas for me, and alas again, for mine exceeding evil fortune, alas for me that have left my father’s house, and following this bull, on a strange sea-faring I go, and wander lonely. But I pray thee that rulest the grey salt sea, thou Shaker of the Earth, propitious meet me, and methinks I see thee smoothing this path of mine before me. For surely it is not without a god to aid, that I pass through these paths of the waters!
So spake she, and the horned bull made answer to her again—
‘Take courage, maiden, and dread not the swell of the deep. Behold I am Zeus, even I, though, closely beheld, I wear the form of a bull, for I can put on the semblance of what thing I will. But ’tis love of thee that has compelled me to measure out so great a space of the salt sea, in a bull’s shape. Lo, Crete shall presently receive thee, Crete that was mine own foster-mother, where thy bridal chamber shall be. Yea, and from me shalt thou bear glorious sons, to be sceptre-swaying kings over earthly men.’
So spake he, and all he spake was fulfilled. And verily Crete appeared, and Zeus took his own shape again, and he loosed her girdle, and the Hours arrayed their bridal bed. She that before was a maiden straightway became the bride of Zeus, and she bore children to Zeus, yea, anon she was a mother.
TROUBLE COMES TO TOWN
The Brothers
Terence
Translated by Betty Radice, 1965
The Brothers is a Roman comedy by Terence (c. 195/185–c. 159 BC), who was born in Carthage to Libyan parents in the second century BC and came as a slave to Rome, where he was later freed. A man named Demea has two sons, the younger of whom, Ctesipho, he has raised in the countryside. Demea’s brother Micio, meanwhile, has raised the elder, his nephew Aeschinus, in the city of Athens. While Demea has been a severe father, Micio has taken a rather hands-off approach to parenting, and his ward Aeschinus is consequently something of a reprobate. This play, which was based on a Greek comedy by Menander (author of Story 31), has a characteristically elaborate plot. Aeschinus has impregnated a girl called Pamphila and promised to marry her. But then his brother Ctesipho comes to town, lets loose, and has him procure a Music Girl for him. Aeschinus agrees to cover for his brother and conceal the Music Girl but is then suspected of taking her for himself. His future mother-in-law, Sostrata, hears about the Music Girl as Pamphila is giving birth to his child. In this extract from the play, Aeschinus considers his options and is confronted by his father, who playfully feigns ignorance of recent events.
AESCHINUS. This is sheer torture! I never thought to receive such a cruel blow. I just can’t think what I’m to do with myself or what to do at all. I’m numb with terror, dazed with fear, robbed of reasoning power! How can I find a way out of this confusion? This awful suspicion – it all seemed so natural! Sostrata is convinced I bought this girl for myself – so I discovered from the old woman when I caught sight of her on her way to fetch the midwife; I ran up and asked her how Pamphila was, whether labour had started and the midwife had been sent for. ‘Get out!’ was all she said. ‘ Clear off, Aeschinus, we’ve had enough of your lying words and your broken promises!’ ‘What on earth do you mean by that?’ I said. ‘Good-bye, you can keep the girl you’ve chosen.’ I guessed at once what they suspected, but held my tongue – one word about my brother to that old gossip and all would be out.
Now what can I do? Say the girl is my brother’s? But this mustn’t get abroad at all costs. I can’t let it out if it’s still possible to keep the secret…. Besides, I doubt if they would believe me: it all hangs together and sounds likely enough. It was I who carried off the girl and I who paid the money, and our house she was brought to. This at least was all my doing, I admit. If only I’d told it all to my father however I’d managed it! I could have persuaded him to let me marry Pamphila…. [After a pause] Here I am, still putting things off! Now’s the time, Aeschinus, to pull yourself together! And first of all I’ll go to the women and clear myself. [He moves towards SOSTRATA’s house.] Here’s the door…. No, I can’t face it…. I’m a poor thing, I can never raise a hand to this door without a shudder…. [He makes a tremendous effort and knocks loudly] Anyone there? It’s Aeschinus. Open the door, somebody, at once! Someone’s coming out; I’ll stay over here.
; [MICIO comes out of SOSTRATA’s house speaking back to her.]
MICIO. Do as I say, Sostrata, both of you, while I find Aeschinus and tell him our arrangements. [Coming forward] Someone knocked – who was it?
AESCHINUS. [Aside] Heavens, it’s my father; I’m done for!
MICIO. Aeschinus!
AESCHINUS. [Aside] What can he want?
MICIO. Was it you who knocked? [Aside] No reply; I think I must tease him a bit – he deserves it for never wanting to trust me over this. [Aloud] Can’t you answer me?
AESCHINUS. [In confusion] I didn’t knock – at least I don’t think I did.
MICIO. No? I was just wondering what you were doing here. [Aside] He’s blushing: all’s well.
AESCHINUS. Excuse me, father, but what took you there? [pointing to SOSTRATA’s house].
MICIO. No business of mine. A friend brought me here just now – to act as a witness.
AESCHINUS. Witness for what?
MICIO. [Watching him closely] I’ll tell you. There are some women living here, in a poor way. I don’t think you know them, in fact I am sure you can’t, for they have not been here long.
AESCHINUS. Well, what then?
MICIO. There is a girl with her mother –
AESCHINUS. Go on –
MICIO. The girl has lost her father, and this friend of mine is her next-of-kin; so he must marry her. That’s the law.
AESCHINUS. [Aside] No – I can’t bear it.
MICIO. What was that?
AESCHINUS. Nothing: it’s all right: go on.
MICIO. He has come to take her away to Miletus – where he lives.
AESCHINUS. What, to take the girl away with him ?
MICIO. That’s right.
AESCHINUS. All the way to Miletus did you say?
MICIO. I did.
AESCHINUS. [Aside] Oh my head reels! [Aloud] But the women – what do they say?
MICIO. What do you expect? Nothing, in fact. The mother has a trumped-up story about the girl having a baby by another man, whom she won’t name. He came first, she says, so the girl ought not to be married to my friend.