by Terence
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, 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 perceive 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, 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, 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? 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 more — You see what his age is; (aside) and truly, Chremes, 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.
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. But it is our part to be sensible of this; and, when and where it is requisite, to show due complaisance.
Syr. (coming forward and whispering to Clitipho.) What is it he is saying?
Clit. (aside, to Syrus.) I’m utterly undone!
Syr. Clitipho, these same injunctions I gave you. You have acted the part of a prudent and discreet person.
Clit. Hold your tongue, I beg.
Syr. Very good.
Chrem. (approaching them.) Syrus, I am ashamed of him.
Syr. I believe 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 on
e way of going near them?
Syr. (aside.) Confusion! He’ll be betraying himself before I’ve got the money. (Aloud.) Chremes, will you give attention to me, who am but a silly 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.
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?
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.
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 loss 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 without some portion of our possessions.
Chrem. That was right; thereby you proved the saving of yourself and her.
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 hopes from this incident than I desire. If it i
s 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 be 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, retribution 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. 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.
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.