by Terence
Phor. (sneeringly.) You are fishing it out, just as if you didn’t know.
Dem. I, know?
Phor. Yes.
Dem. I say I do not; you, who affirm it, recall it to my recollection.
Phor. Come now, didn’t you know your own cousin-german?
Dem. You torture me to death; tell me his name.
Phor. His name?
Dem. Of course. (Phormio hesitates.) Why are you silent now?
Phor. (aside.) Heavens, I’m undone; I’ve forgot the name.
Dem. Well, what do you say?
Phor. (aside, to Geta.) Geta, if you recollect the name I told you a short time since, prompt me. (Aloud, to Demipho.) Well then, I sha’n’t tell you; as if you didn’t know, you come to pump me.
Dem. I, come to pump you, indeed?
Geta. (whispering to Phormio.) Stilpho.
Phor. But, after all, what matters that to me? It is Stilpho.
Dem. Whom did you say?
Phor. Stilpho, I tell you; you knew him.
Dem. I neither know him, nor had I ever any relation of that name.
Phor. Say you so? Are you not ashamed of this? But if he had left you ten talents ——
Dem. May the Gods confound you!
Phor. You’d have been the first, from memory, to trace your line of kindred, even as far back as from grandfather and great-grandfather.
Dem. Very likely what you say. In that case, when I had undertaken it, I should have shown how she was related to me; do you do the same: tell me, how is she related to me?
Geta. Well done, my master, that’s right! (Threateningly to Phormio.) Hark you, take you care.
Phor. I’ve already made the matter quite plain where I ought, before the judges; besides, if it was untrue, why didn’t your son disprove it?
Dem. Do you talk about my son to me? Of whose folly there is no speaking in the language it deserves.
Phor. Then do you, who are so wise, go to the magistrates, that for you they may give a second decision in the same cause, since you reign alone here, and are the only man allowed to get a second trial in the same cause.
Dem. Although wrong has been done me, still, however, rather than engage in litigation, or listen to you, just as though she had been my relation, as the law orders one to find her a portion, rid me of her, and take five minæ.
Phor. (laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! a pleasant individual!
Dem. Well! am I asking any thing unfair? Or am I not to obtain even this, which is my right at common law?
Phor. Pray, really is it so, that when you have abused her like a courtesan, the law orders you to pay her hire and pack her off? Or is it the fact, that in order that a citizen may bring no disgrace upon herself through poverty, she has been ordered to be given to her nearest relative, to pass her life with him alone? A thing which you mean to prevent.
Dem. Yes, to her nearest relative, indeed; but why to us, or on what ground?
Phor. Well, well, a thing tried, they say, you can’t try over again.
Dem. Not try it? On the contrary, I shall not desist until I have gone through with it.
Phor. You are trifling.
Dem. Only let me alone for that.
Phor. In short, Demipho, I have nothing to do with you; your son has been cast, and not you; for your time of life for marrying has now gone by.
Dem. Consider that it is he that says to you all I now say, or else assuredly, together with this wife of his, I’ll be forbidding him the house.
Geta (aside.) He’s in a passion.
Phor. You’ll be acting more considerately.
Dem. Are you so resolved, you unlucky fellow, to do me all the mischief you can?
Phor. (aside, to Geta.) He’s afraid of us, although he’s so careful to conceal it.
Geta (aside, to Phormio.) Your beginning has turned out well.
Phor. But if, on the contrary, you endure what must be endured, you’ll be doing what’s worthy of you, so that we may be on friendly terms.
Dem. (indignantly.) What, I seek your friendship, or have any wish to see or hear you?
Phor. If you can agree with her, you will have some one to cheer up your old age; just consider your time of life.
Dem. Let her cheer up yourself; keep her to yourself.
Phor. Really, do moderate your passion.
Dem. Mark what I say. There have been words enough already; if you don’t make haste to fetch away the woman, I shall turn her out: I have said it, Phormio.
Phor. If you use her in any other manner than is befitting a free-born woman, I shall be bringing a swinging action against you: I have said it, Demipho. (To Geta.) Hark you, if there should be any occasion for me, I shall be at home.
Geta (apart.) I understand you.
Exit Phormio.
Scene III.
Demipho, Hegio, Cratinus, Crito, and Geta.
Dem. What care and anxiety my son does bring upon me, by entangling himself and me in this same marriage! And he doesn’t so much as come into my sight, that at least I might know what he says about this matter, or what his sentiments are. (To Geta.) Be off, go see whether he has returned home or not by this.
Geta. I will.
Goes into the house.
Dem. (to the Assistants.) You see how the case stands. What am I to do? Tell me, Hegio.
Heg. What, I? I think Cratinus ought, if it seems good to you.
Dem. Tell me, Cratinus.
Crat. What, do you wish me to speak? I should like you to do what is most for your advantage; it is my opinion, that what this son of yours has done in your absence, in law and justice ought to be annulled; and that you’ll obtain redress. That’s my opinion.
Dem. Say now, Hegio.
Heg. I believe that he has spoken with due deliberation; but it is the fact, “as many men, so many minds;” every one his own way. It doesn’t appear to me that what has been done by law can be revoked; and it is wrong to attempt it.
Dem. Speak, Crito.
Crit. I am of opinion that we must deliberate further; it is a matter of importance.
Heg. Do you want any thing further with us?
Dem. You have done very well. (Exeunt Assistants.) I am much more at a loss than before.
Re-enter Geta, from the house.
Geta. They say that he has not come back.
Dem. I must wait for my brother. The advice that he gives me about this matter, I shall follow. I’ll go make inquiry at the harbor, when he is to come back.
Exit.
Geta. And I’ll go look for Antipho, that he may learn what has passed here. But look, I see him coming this way, just in the very nick of time.
Scene IV.
Enter Antipho, at a distance.
Ant. (to himself.) Indeed, Antipho, in many ways you are to be blamed for these feelings; to have thus run away, and intrusted your existence to the protection of other people. Did you suppose that others would give more attention to your interests than your own self? For, however other matters stood, certainly you should have thought of her whom you have now at home, that she might not suffer any harm in consequence of her confiding in you, whose hopes and resources, poor thing, are all now centred in yourself alone.
Geta (coming forward.) Why really, master, we have for some time been censuring you here in your absence, for having thus gone away.
Ant. You are the very person I was looking for.
Geta. But still, we were not a bit the more remiss on that account.
Ant. Tell me, I beg of you, in what posture are my interests and fortunes. Has my father any suspicion?
Geta. Not any at present.
Ant. Is there still any hope?
Geta. I don’t know.
Ant. Alas!
Geta. But Phædria has not neglected to use his endeavors in your behalf.
Ant. He did nothing new.
Geta. Then Phormio, too, in this matter, just as in every thing else, showed himself a man of energy.
Ant. What did he do?
&
nbsp; Geta. With his words he silenced the old man, who was very angry.
Ant. Well done, Phormio!
Geta. I, too, did all I could.
Ant. My dear Geta, I love you all.
Geta. The commencement is just in this position, as I tell you: matters, at present, are going on smoothly, and your father intends to wait for your uncle till he arrives.
Ant. Why him?
Geta. He said he was wishful to act by his advice, in all that relates to this business.
Ant. How greatly now, Geta, I do dread my uncle’s safe arrival! For, according to his single sentence, from what I hear, I am to live or die.
Geta. Here comes Phædria.
Ant. Where is he, pray?
Geta. See, he’s coming from his place of exercise.
Scene V.
Enter from Dorio’s house, Dorio, followed by Phædria.
Phæd. Prithee, hear me, Dorio.
Dor. I’ll not hear you.
Phæd. Only a moment.
Dor. Let me alone.
Phæd. Do hear what I have to say.
Dor. Why really I am tired of hearing the same thing a thousand times over.
Phæd. But now, I have something to tell you that you’ll hear with pleasure.
Dor. Speak then; I’m listening.
Phæd. Can I not prevail on you to wait for only three days? Whither are you going now?
Dor. I was wondering if you had any thing new to offer.
Ant. (apart, to Geta.) I’m afraid for this Procurer, lest ——
Geta (apart, to Antipho.) Something may befall his own safety.
Phæd. You don’t believe me?
Dor. You guess right.
Phæd. But if I pledge my word.
Dor. Nonsense!
Phæd. You will have reason to say that this kindness was well laid out by you on interest.
Dor. Stuff!
Phæd. Believe me, you will be glad you did so; upon my faith, it is the truth.
Dor. Mere dreams!
Phæd. Do but try; the time is not long.
Dor. The same story over again.
Phæd. You will be my kinsman, my father, my friend; you ——
Dor. Now, do prate on.
Phæd. For you to be of a disposition so harsh and inexorable, that neither by pity nor by entreaties can you be softened!
Dor. For you to be of a disposition so unreasonable and so unconscionable, Phædria, that you can be talking me over with fine words, and be for amusing yourself with what’s my property for nothing!
Ant. (apart, to Geta.) I am sorry for him.
Phæd. (aside.) Alas! I feel it to be too true.
Geta (apart, to Antipho.) How well each keeps up to his character!
Phæd. (to himself.) And would that this misfortune had not befallen me at a time when Antipho was occupied with other cares as well.
Ant. (coming forward.) Ah Phædria, why, what is the matter?
Phæd. O most fortunate Antipho!
Ant. What, I?
Phæd. To have in your possession the object of your love, and have no occasion to encounter such a nuisance as this.
Ant. What I, in my possession? Why yes, as the saying is, I’ve got a wolf by the ears; for I neither know how to get rid of her, nor yet how to keep her.
Dor. That’s just my case with regard to him (pointing to Phædria).
Ant. (to Dorio.) Aye, aye, don’t you show too little of the Procurer. (To Phædria.) What has he been doing?
Phæd. What, he? Acting the part of a most inhuman fellow; been and sold my Pamphila.
Geta. What! Sold her?
Ant. Sold her, say you?
Phæd. Sold her.
Dor. (ironically.) What a shocking crime — a wench bought with one’s own money!
Phæd. I can not prevail upon him to wait for me the next three days, and so far break off the bargain with the person, while I get the money from my friends, which has been promised me; if I don’t give it him then, let him not wait a single hour longer.
Dor. Very good.
Ant. It’s not a long time that he asks, Dorio; do let him prevail upon you; he’ll pay you two-fold for having acted to him thus obligingly.
Dor. Mere words!
Ant. Will you allow Pamphila to be carried away from this place? And then, besides, can you possibly allow their love to be severed asunder?
Dor. Neither I nor you cause that.
Geta. May all the Gods grant you what you are deserving of!
Dor. I have borne with you for several months quite against my inclination; promising and whimpering, and yet bringing nothing; now, on the other hand, I have found one to pay, and not be sniveling; give place to your betters.
Ant. I’ faith, there surely was a day named, if I remember right, for you to pay him.
Phæd. It is the fact.
Dor. Do I deny it?
Ant. Is that day past, then?
Dor. No; but this one has come before it.
Ant. Are you not ashamed of your perfidy?
Dor. Not at all, so long as it is for my interest.
Geta. Dunghill!
Phæd. Dorio, is it right, pray, for you to act thus?
Dor. It is my way; if I suit you, make use of me.
Ant. Do you try to trifle with him (pointing to Phædria) in this manner?
Dor. Why really, on the contrary, Antipho, it’s he trifling with me, for he knew me to be a person of this sort; I supposed him to be quite a different man; he has deceived me; I’m not a bit different to him from what I was before. But however that may be, I’ll yet do this; the captain has said, that to-morrow morning he will pay me the money; if you bring it me before that, Phædria, I’ll follow my rule, that he is the first served who is the first to pay. Farewell!
Goes into his house.
Scene VI.
Phædria, Antipho, and Geta.
Phæd. What am I to do? Wretch that I am! where am I now in this emergency to raise the money for him, I, who am worse than nothing? If it had been possible for these three days to be obtained of him, it was promised me by then.
Ant. Geta, shall we suffer him to continue thus wretched, when he so lately assisted me in the kind way you were mentioning? On the contrary, why not, as there’s need of it, try to do him a kindness in return?
Geta. For my part, I’m sure it is but fair.
Ant. Come then, you are the only man able to serve him.
Geta. What can I do?
Ant. Procure the money.
Geta. I wish I could; but where it is to come from — tell me that.
Ant. My father has come home.
Geta. I know; but what of that?
Ant. Oh, a word to the wise is quite enough.
Geta. Is that it, then?
Ant. Just so.
Geta. Upon my faith, you really do give me fine advice; out upon you! Ought I not to be heartily glad, if I meet with no mishap through your marriage, but what, in addition to that, you must now bid me, for his sake, to be seeking risk upon risk?
Ant. ‘Tis true what he says.
Phæd. What! am I a stranger to you, Geta?
Geta. I don’t consider you so. But is it so trifling a matter that the old gentleman is now vexed with us all, that we must provoke him still more, and leave no room for entreaty?
Phæd. Is another man to take her away from before my eyes to some unknown spot? Alas! speak to me then, Antipho, and look upon me while you have the opportunity, and while I’m present.
Ant. Why so, or what are you going to do? Pray, tell me.
Phæd. To whatever part of the world she is borne away, I’m determined to follow her or to perish.
Geta. May the Gods prosper your design! Cautiously’s the word, however.
Ant. (to Geta.) Do see if you can give him any assistance at all.
Geta. Any at all — how?
Ant. Pray, do try, that he mayn’t be doing something that we may afterward be more or less sorry for, Geta.
Geta.
I’m considering. (He pauses.) He’s all safe, so far as I can guess: but still, I’m afraid of mischief.
Ant. Don’t be afraid: together with you, we’ll share good and bad.
Geta. (to Phædria.) How much money do you want? Tell me.
Phæd. Only thirty minæ.
Geta. Thirty? Heyday! she’s monstrous dear, Phædria.
Phæd. Indeed, she’s very cheap.
Geta. Well, well, I’ll get them for you.
Phæd. Oh the dear man! (They both fall to hugging Geta.)
Geta. Take yourselves off. (Shakes them off.)
Phæd. There’s need for them directly.
Geta. You shall have them directly; but I must have Phormio for my assistant in this business.
Ant. He’s quite ready; right boldly lay on him any load you like, he’ll bear it: he, in especial, is a friend to his friend.
Geta. Let’s go to him at once then.
Ant. Will you have any occasion for my assistance?
Geta. None; but be off home, and comfort that poor thing, who I am sure is now in-doors almost dead with fear. Do you linger?
Ant. There’s nothing I could do with so much pleasure.
Goes into the house of Demipho.
Phæd. What way will you manage this?
Geta. I’ll tell you on the road; first thing, betake yourself off.
Exeunt.
ACT THE THIRD.
Scene I.
Enter Demipho and Chremes.
Dem. Well, have you brought your daughter with you, Chremes, for whom you went to Lemnos?
Chrem. No.
Dem. Why not?
Chrem. When her mother found that I staid here longer than usual, and at the same time the age of the girl did not suit with my delays, they told me that she, with all her family, set out in search of me.
Dem. Pray, then, why did you stay there so long, when you had heard of this?
Chrem. Why, faith, a malady detained me.
Dem. From what cause? Or what was it?
Chrem. Do you ask me? Old age itself is a malady. However, I heard that they had arrived safe, from the captain who brought them.
Dem. Have you heard, Chremes, what has happened to my son in my absence?