Complete Works of Terence

by Terence

  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, 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. Her hair was loose, long, and thrown back negligently about her temples. (To Clinia.) Do you hold your peace.

  Clin. My dear Syrus, do not without cause throw me into ecstasies, I beseech you.

  Syr. The old woman was spinning the woof: there was one little servant girl besides; — she was weaving 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.

  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. (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.

  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.

  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 people 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, 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 persons 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! 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. 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?

  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 re
ady to give any thing. For, that you may know how perfectly she is trained to extravagance, in the first place, she has already brought with her more than ten female attendants, all laden with clothes and jewels of gold; if a satrap 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, saying thus, “This wine is too acid, respected sir, do please look for something more mellow.” I opened all the casks, all the vessels; 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; they impart their plans to the young men; and it were better for you to lose a talent this way, than a mina the other. The money is not the question now, but this — in what way we can supply it to the young man with the least danger. For if he once knows the state of your feelings, that you would sooner part with your life, and sooner with all your money, than allow your son to leave you; whew! what an inlet 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.