Complete Works of Terence

by Terence

  ACT THE FIRST.

  Scene I.

  Enter Phædria and Parmeno.

  Phæd. What, then, shall I do? 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? 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, — 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, 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 because 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. 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; 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, setting all other matters aside, go and seek for one? Then you said that you wanted a Eunuch, because ladies of quality alone make use of them; I found you one. I yesterday paid twenty minæ 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! perhaps now he puts but little faith in me, and forms his estimate of me from the dispositions of other women. 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 there 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.” “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, butchers, cooks, 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 bad
e him become my follower 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.