SyrusWe’ve just disclos’dThe whole of this affair to Micio,Syrus(to himself). We’ve justDisclos’d the whole of this affair to Micio,Exactly as it happen’d. I ne’er sawThe good old gentleman more pleas’d.Dem.Oh Heav’n,The folly of the man! (Listening.)Syrus(to himself). He prais’d his son;Me, who concerted the whole scheme, he thank’d.Dem.I burst with rage. (Listening.)Syrus(to himself). He told the money downImmediately, and threw us in beside,To make an entertainment, a half-mina:Which I’ve laid out according to my liking.Dem.So! if you’d have your business well discharg’d,Dem.So! if you’d have your business well ta’en care of,Commit it to this fellow!Syrus(overhearing). Who’s there? Demea!I did not see you, Sir. How goes it?Dem.How?I can’t sufficiently admire your conduct.Syrus(negligently). Silly enough, to say the truth, and idle.Here! Hark ye, Dromo! see you gut and scaleThe other fish immediately: But let(To servants within). Cleanse you the rest of those fish, Dromo: letThat large eel play a little in the water.When I return it shall be bon’d; till thenIt must not be.Dem.Are crimes like these——Syrus(toDemea). IndeedI like them not, and oft cry shame upon them.—(To servants within.) See that those salt fish are well soak’d, Stephanio.Dem.Gods! is this done on purpose? Does he think’Tis laudable to spoil his son? Alas!I think I see the day when ÆschinusShall fly for want, and list himself a soldier.Syrus.O Demea! that is to be wise: to see,Not that alone which lies before your feet,But ev’n to pry into futurity.Dem.What! is the Music-Girl at your house?Syrus.Aye,Madam’s within.Dem.What! and is ÆschinusTo keep her at home with him?Syrus.I believe so;Such is their madness.Dem.Is it possible?Syrus.A fond and foolish father!Dem.I’m asham’dTo own my brother; I’m griev’d for him.Syrus.Ah!There is a deal of diff’rence, Demea,—Nor is’t because you’re present that I say this——There is a mighty difference between you!You are, from top to toe, all over wisdom:He a mere dotard.—Would you e’er permitYour boy to do such things?Dem.Permit him? I?Or should I not much rather smell him outSix months before he did but dream of it?Syrus.Pshaw! do you boast your vigilance to me?Dem.Heav’n keep him ever as he is at present!Syrus.As fathersformtheir children, so they prove.Dem.But, prithee, have you seen the lad to-day?Dem.But now we’re speaking of him, have you seenThe lad to-day? (With an affected carelessness.)Syrus.Your son, d’ye mean?—I’ll drive him out of town.He’s hard at work upon your grounds by this time.Dem.Ay? Are you sure he’s gone into the country?Syrus.Your son d’ye mean?—I’ll drive himInto the country. (Aside.)—He is hard at workUpon your grounds by this time. (ToDemea.)Dem.Are you sure on’t?Syrus.Sure? I set out with him myself.Dem.Good! good!I was afraid he loiter’d here. (Aside.)Syrus.And muchEnrag’d, I promise you.Dem.On what account?Syrus.A quarrel with his brother at the Forum,About the Music-Girl.Dem.Indeed?Syrus.Aye, faith:He did not mince the matter: he spoke out;For as the cash was telling down, in pops,All unexpected, Master Ctesipho:Cries out—“Oh Æschinus, are these your courses?These your persuits? enormities like these?Oh shame! oh scandal to our family!”Do you commit these crimes? and do you bringSuch a disgrace upon our family?”Dem.Oh, oh, I weep for joy.Syrus.——“You squander notThe money only, but your life, your honor.”Dem.Heav’n bless him; he is like his ancestors. (Weeping.)Syrus.Father’s own son, I warrant him.Dem.Oh, Syrus!He’s full of all those precepts, he!Syrus.No doubt on’t:He need not go from home for good instruction.Dem.I spare no pains; neglect no means; I train him.—In short, I bid him look into the livesOf all, as in a mirror, and thence drawFrom others an example for himself.—“Do this.”——Syrus.Good!Dem.“Fly that.”Syrus.Very good!Dem.“This deedIs highly commendable.”Is commendable.”Syrus.That’s the thing!Dem.“That’s reprehensible.”Syrus.Most excellent!Dem.“And then moreover——”Syrus.Faith, I have not timeTo give you further audience just at present,I’ve got an admirable dish of fish;And I must take good care they are not spoil’d.For that were an offense as grievous, Demea,In us, as ’twere in you to leave undoneThe things you just now mentioned: and I try,According to my weak abilities,To teach my fellow-slaves the self-same way.—“This is too salt.—This is burnt up too much.That is not nice and cleanly.—That’s well done.Mind, and do so again.”—I spare no pains,And give them the best precepts that I can.In short, I bid them look into the dishes,As in a mirror, Demea, and thence learnThe duty of a cook.—This school of ours,I own, is idle: but what can you do?According to the man must be the lesson.—Would you aught else with us?Dem.Your reformation.Syrus.Do you go hence into the country?Dem.Straight.Syrus.For what should you do here, where nobody,However good your precepts, cares to mind them?Exit.SCENE V.Demeaalone.I then will hence, since he, on whose accountI hither came, is gone into the country.Heis my only care,He’smy concern.My brother, since he needs will have it so,May look to Æschinus himself.——But whoIs coming yonder? Hegio, of our tribe?If I see plainly, beyond doubt ’tis he.Ah, we’ve been old acquaintance quite from boys;And such men nowadays are wondrous scarce.A citizen of ancient faith and virtue!The commonwealth will ne’er reap harm from him.How I rejoice to see but the remainsOf this old stock! Ah, life’s a pleasure now.I’ll wait, that I may ask about his health,And have a little conversation with him.SCENE VI.EnterHegio,Getaconversing at a distance.Hegio.Can it be true?Geta.Ev’n so.Hegio.Good Heaven! a most unworthy action, Geta!Geta.Ev’n so.Hegio.A deed so baseSprung from that family?—Oh Æschinus,This was not acting like your father.Dem.(behind.) So!He has just heard about this Musick-Girl,And is affected at it, though a stranger,While his good father truly thinks it nothing.Oh monstrous! would that he were somewhere nigh,And heard all this!Hegio.Unless they do you justiceThey shall not carry off the matter thus.Hegio.A deed so baseSprung from that family?—Oh Æschinus,I’m sure this was not acting like your father.Dem.(behind.) So! he has heard about this Music-Girl,And is affected at it, though a stranger,While his good father truly thinks it nothing.Oh monstrous! would that he were somewhere nigh,And heard all this!Hegio.Unless they do what’s just,They shall not carry off the matter thus.Geta.Our only hope is in you, Hegio.You’re our sole friend, our guardian, and our father,On his death-bed, the good old SimulusThe good old Simulus, on his death-bedBequeath’d us to your care. If you desert us,We are undone indeed.Hegio.Ah, name it not!I will not, and with honesty, I can not.Dem.I’ll go up to him.—Save you, Hegio!Hegio.The man I look’d for.—Save you, Demea!Dem.Your pleasure!Hegio.Æschinus, your elder son,Your brother’s by adoption, has committedAdopted by your brother, has committedA deed unworthy of an honest man,And of a gentleman.Dem.How so?Hegio.You knewOur friend and good acquaintance, Simulus?Dem.Aye, sure.Hegio.He has debauch’d his daughter.Dem.How!Hegio.Hold, Demea, for the worst is still to come.Dem.Is there aught worse?Hegio.Much worse: for this perhapsMight be excus’d. The night, love, wine, and youth,Might prompt him. ’Tis the frailty of our nature.—Soon as his sense returning made him consciousOf his rash outrage, of his own accordHe came to the girl’s mother, weeping, praying.Entreating, vowing constancy, and swearingThat he would take her home.—He was forgiven;The thing conceal’d; and his vows credited.The girl from that encounter prov’d with child:This is the tenth month.—He, good gentleman,Has got a music-girl, Heav’n bless the mark!With whom he means to live, and quit the other.Dem.And are you well assur’d of this?Hegio.The mother,The girl, the fact itself, are all before you,Joining to vouch the truth on’t. And besides,This Geta here—as servants go, no bad one,Nor given up to idleness—maintains them;The sole support of all the family.Here take him, bind him, force the truth from him.Geta.Aye, torture me, if ’tis not so, good Demea!Nay, Æschinus, I’m sure, will not deny it.Bring me before him.Dem.(aside). I’m asham’d: and whatTo do, or what to say to him, I know not.Pamphila(within). Ah me! I’m torn in pieces!—Racking pains!Juno Lucina, help me! save, I pray thee!Hegio.Ha! Is she then in labor,Geta?Geta.Yes, Sir.Hegio.Hark! she now calls upon your justice, Demea!Grant her then freely, what law else will claim.And Heaven send, that you may rather doWhat honor bids! but if you mean it not,Be sure of this; that with my utmost forceI’ll vindicate the girl, and her dead father;He was my kinsman; we were bred togetherFrom children; and our fortunes twin’d togetherIn war, and peace, and bitter poverty.Wherefore I’ll try, endeavor, strive, nay loseMy life itself, before I will forsake them.—What is your answer?Dem.I’ll find out my brother:What he advises, I will follow, Hegio.Hegio.But still remember, Demea, that the moreYou live at ease; the more your pow’r, your wealth,Your riches, and nobility; the moreIt is your duty to act honorably,If you regard the name of honest men.Dem.Go to: we’ll do you justice.Hegio.’Twill become you.Geta, conduct me in to Sostrata.Exit withGeta.SCENE VII.Demeaalone.This is no more than I foretold: and wellIf his intemp’rance would stophere!—But thisImmoderate indulgence must produceSome terrible misfortune in the end.—I’ll hence, find out my brother, tell my news,And empty all my indignation on him.Exit.SCENE VIII.Re-enterHegio, speaking toSostrataat the door.Be of good cheer, my Sostrata; and comfort,As much as in your pow’r, poor Pamphila!I’ll find out Micio, if he’s at the Forum,And tell him the whole story: if he’ll actWith honor in it, why ’tis well; if not,Let him but speak his mind to me, and thenI shall know how to act accordingly.Exit.ACT THE FOURTH.SCENE I.Ctesipho,Syrus.Ctes.My father gone into the country, say you?Syrus.Long since.Ctes.Nay; speak the truth!Syrus.He’s at his farm,And hard at work, I warrant you.Ctes.I wish,So that his health were not the worse for it,He might so heartily fatigue himself,As to be forc’d to keep his bed these three days!Syrus.I wish so too; and more, if possible.Ctes.With all my heart: for I would fain consume,As I’ve begun, the livelong day in pleasure.Nor do I hate that farm of ours so muchFor any thing, as that it is so near.For if ’twas at a greater distance, nightWould come upon him ere he could return.But now, not finding me, I’m very sureHe’ll hobble back again immediately;Question me where I’ve been, that I’ve not seen himAll the day long; and what shall I reply?Syrus.What? can you think of nothing?Ctes.No, not I.Syrus.So much the worse.—Have you no client, friend,Or guest?Ctes.I have. What then?Syrus.You’ve been engag’dWith them.Ctes.When not engag’d? It can not be.Syrus.It may.Ctes.Aye, marry, for the day I grant you.But if I pass the night here, what excuseThen, Syrus?Syrus.Ah! I would it were the customTo be engag’d at night too with one’s friends!—But be at ease! I know his mind so well,That when he raves the loudest, I can make himAs gentle as a lamb.Ctes.How so?Syrus.He lovesTo hear you prais’d. I sing your praises to him,And make you out a little God.Ctes.Me!Syrus.You.And then the old man blubbers like a child,For very joy.—But have a care! (Looking out.)Ctes.What now?Syrus.The wolf i’ th’ fable!Ctes.What, my father?Syrus.He.Ctes.What’s the best, Syrus?Syrus.In! fly! I’ll take care.Ctes.You have not seen me, if he asks: d’ye hear?Syrus.Can’t you be quiet? (Pushes outCtesipho.)SCENE II.EnterDemeaat another part of the stage.Dem.Verily I amA most unhappy man! for first of all,I can not find my brother any where:And then besides, in looking after him,I chanc’d on one of my day laborers,Who had but newly left my farm, and told meCtesipho was not there. What shall I do?Ctes.(peeping out.) Syrus?Syrus.What?(Apart.)Ctes.Does he seek me?Syrus.Yes.Ctes.Undone!Syrus.Courage!Dem.(to himself). Plague on it, what ill luck is this?I can’t account for it: but I believeThat I was born for nothing but misfortunes.I am the first who feels our woes; the firstWho knows of them; the first who tells the news:And come what may, I bear the weight alone.Syrus(behind). Ridiculous! he says he knows all first;And he alone is ignorant of all.Dem.I’m now return’d to see if MicioBe yet come home again.Ctes.(peeping out). Take care, good Syrus,He don’t rush in upon us unawares!Syrus.Peace! I’ll take care.(Apart.)Ctes.’Faith, I’ll not trust to you,But shut myself and her in some by-placeTogether: that’s the safest.Syrus.Well, away! (Ctesiphodisappears.)I’ll drive the old man hence, I warrant you.Dem.(seeingSyrus). But see that rascal Syrus coming hither!Syrus(advancing hastily, and pretending not to seeDemea).By Hercules, there is no living here,For any one, at this rate.—I’d fain knowHow many masters I’m to have.—Oh monstrous!Dem.What does he howl for? what’s the meaning on’t?Hark ye, my good Sir! prithee tell me ifMy brother be at home.Syrus.My good Sir!Plague!Why do you come with yourgood Sirsto me?I’m half-kill’d.Dem.What’s the matter?Syrus.What’s the matter!Ctesipho, vengeance on him, fell upon me,And cudgel’d me and the poor Music-GirlAlmost to death.Dem.Indeed?Syrus.Indeed. Nay seeHow he has cut my lip. (Pretending to show it.)Dem.On what account?Syrus.The girl, he says, was bought by my advice.Dem.Did not you say you saw him out of townA little while ago?Syrus.And so I did.But he came back soon after, like a madman.He had no mercy.—Was not he asham’dTo beat a poor old fellow? to beat me;Who bore him in my arms but t’other day,An urchin thus high? (Showing.)Dem.Oh rare, Ctesipho!Father’s own son! a man, I warrant him.Syrus.Oh rare, d’ye cry? I’ faith, if he is wise,He’ll hold his hands another time.Dem.Oh brave!Syrus.Oh mighty brave, indeed!—Because he beatA helpless girl, and me a wretched slave,Who durst not strike again;—oh, to be sure,Mighty brave, truly!Dem.Oh, most exquisite!My Ctesipho perceived, as well as I,That you was the contriver of this business.—But is my brother here?Syrus.Not he. (Sulkily.)Dem.I’m thinkingWhere I shall seek him.Syrus.I know where he is:But I’ll not tell.Dem.How, Sirrah?Syrus.Even so.Dem.I’ll break your head.Syrus.I can not tell the nameOf him he’s gone to, but I know the place.Dem.Well, where’s the place?Syrus.D’ye know the PorticoJust by the market, down this way? (Pointing.)Dem.I do.Syrus.Go straight along that street: and at the endSyrus.Go up that street; keep straight along: and thenYou’ll see a hill; go straight down that: and thenOn this hand, there’s a chapel; and just byA narrow lane. (Pointing.)Dem.Where? (Looking.)Syrus.There; by the great wild fig-tree.D’ye know it, Sir?Dem.I do.Syrus.Go through that lane.Dem.That lane’s no thoroughfare.Syrus.Aye, very true:No more it is, Sir.—What a fool I am!I was mistaken—You must go quite backInto the portico; and after all,This is the nearest and the safest way.—D’ye know Cratinus’ house? the rich man?Dem.Aye.Syrus.When you’ve pass’d that, turn short upon the left.Keep straight along that street, and when you reachDiana’s Temple, turn upon the right.And then, on this side of the city gate,Just by the pond, there is a baker’s shop,And opposite a joiner’s.—There he is.Dem.What business has he there?Syrus.He has bespokeSome tables to be made with oaken legsTo stand the sun.Dem.For you to drink upon.Oh brave! But I lose time. I’ll after him.Exit hastily.SCENE III.Syrusalone.Aye, go your ways! I’ll work your old shrunk shanksAs you deserve, old Drybones!—ÆschinusLoiters intolerably. Dinner’s spoil’d.Ctesipho thinks of nothing but his girl.’Tis time for me to look to myself too.Faith, then I’ll in immediately; pick outAll the tid-bits, and tossing off my cups,In lazy leisure lengthen out the day.Exit.SCENE IV.EnterMicioandHegio.Micio.I can see nothing in this matter, Hegio,Wherein I merit so much commendation.’Tis but my duty, to redress the wrongsThat we have caus’d: unless perhaps you took meFor one of those who, having injur’d you,Term fair expostulation an affront;And having first offended, are the firstTo turn accusers.—I’ve not acted thus:And is’t for this that I am thank’d?Hegio.Ah, no;I never thought you other than you are.But let me beg you, Micio, go with meTo the young woman’s mother, and repeatYourself to her what you have just told me:—That the suspicion, fall’n on Æschinus,Sprung from his brother and the Music-Girl.Micio.If you believe I ought, or think it needful,Let’s go!Hegio.’Tis very kind in you: for thusYou’ll raise her spirit drooping with the loadOf grief and misery, and have perform’dEv’ry good office of benevolence.But if you like it not, I’ll go myself,And tell her the whole story.Micio.No, I’ll go.Hegio.’Tis good and tender in your nature, Micio.For they, whose fortunes are less prosperous,Are all I know not how, the more suspicious;And think themselves neglected and contemn’d,Because of their distress and poverty.Wherefore I think ’twould satisfy them moreIf you would clear up this affair yourself.Micio.What you have said is just, and very true.Hegio.Let me conduct you in!Micio.With all my heart.Exeunt.SCENE V.Æschinusalone.Oh torture to my mind! that this misfortuneShould come thus unexpectedly upon me!I know not what to do, which way to turn.Fear shakes my limbs, amazement fills my soul,And in my breast despair shuts out all counsel.Ah, by what means can I acquit myself?Such a suspicion is now fallen on me;And that too grounded on appearances.Sostrata thinks that on my own accountI bought the Music-Girl. That’s plain enoughFrom the old nurse. For meeting her by chance,As she was sent from hence to call a midwife,I ran, and ask’d her of my Pamphila.—“Is she in labor? are you going nowTo call a midwife?”—“Go, go, Æschinus!Away, you have deceiv’d us long enough,Fool’d us enough with your fine promises,”Cried she.—“What now?” says I.—“Farewell, enjoyThe girl that you’re so taken with!”—I sawImmediately their cause of jealousy:Yet I contain’d myself, nor would discloseMy brother’s business to a tattling gossip,By whom the knowledge on’t might be betray’d.—But what shall I do now? shall I confessThe girl to be my brother’s; an affairWhich should by no means be reveal’d?—But notTo dwell on that.—Perhaps they’d not disclose it.Nay, I much doubt if they would credit it:So many proofs concur against myself.——I bore her off: I paid the money down;She was brought home to me.—All this, I own,Is my own fault. For should I not have toldMy father, be it as it might, the whole?I should, I doubt not, have obtain’d his leaveTo marry Pamphila.—What indolence,Ev’n, till this hour! now, Æschinus, awake!—But first I’ll go and clear myself to them.I’ll to the door. (Goes up.) Confusion! how I tremble!How guilty like I seem when I approachThis house! (Knocks.) Holloa! within! ’Tis I;’Tis Æschinus. Come, open somebodyThe door immediately!—Who’s here? A stranger!I’ll step aside. (Retires.)SCENE VI.EnterMicio.Micio(toSostrata, within). Do as I have told you, Sostrata.I’ll find out Æschinus, and tell him all.—But who knock’d at the door? (Coming forward.)Æsch.(behind). By Heav’n, my father!Confusion!Micio(seeing him). Æschinus!Æsch.What does he here? (Aside.)Micio.Was’t you that knock’d? What, not a word! SupposeI banter him a little. He deserves it,For never trusting this affair to me. (Aside.)—Why don’t you speak?Æsch.Not I, as I remember. (Disordered.)Micio.No, I dare say, not you: for I was wond’ringWhat business could have brought you here.—He blushes.All’s safe, I find. (Aside.)Æsch.(recovering.) But prithee, tell me, Sir,What brought you here?Micio.No business of my own.But a friend drew me hither from the Forum,To be his advocate.Æsch.In what?Micio.I’ll tell you.This house is tenanted by some poor women,Whom, I believe, you know not;—Nay, I’m sure on’t,For ’twas but lately they came over hither.Æsch.Well?Micio.A young woman and her mother.Æsch.Well?Micio.The father’s dead.—This friend of mine, it seems,Being her next relation, by the lawIs forc’d to marry her.Æsch.Confusion! (Aside.)Micio.How?Æsch.Nothing.—Well?—pray go on, Sir!——Micio.He’s now comeTo take her home, for he is of Miletus.Æsch.How! take her home with him?Micio.Yes, take her home.Æsch.What, to Miletus?Micio.Aye.Æsch.Oh torture! (Aside.)— Well?What say the women?Micio.Why, what should they? Nothing.Indeed the mother has devis’d a taleAbout her daughter’s having had a childBy some one else, but never mentions whom:His claim, she says, is prior; and my friendOught not to have her.Æsch.Well? and did not thisSeem a sufficient reason?Micio.No.Æsch.No, Sir?And shall this next relation take her off?Micio.Aye, to be sure: why not?Æsch.Oh barbarous, cruel!And to speak plainly, Sir—ungenerous!Micio.Why so?Æsch.Why so, Sir?—What d’ye thinkWill come of him, the poor unhappy youthWho was connected with her first—who stillLoves her, perhaps, as dearly as his life;——When he shall see her torn out of his arms,And borne away forever?—Oh shame, shame!Micio.Where is the shame on’t?—Who betroth’d, who gave her?When was she married? and to whom? Where is he,And wherefore did he wed another’s right?Æsch.Was it for her, a girl of such an age,To sit at home, expecting till a kinsmanCame, nobody knows whence, to marry her?—This, Sir, it was your business to have said,And to have dwelt on it.Micio.Ridiculous!Should I have pleaded against him to whomI came an advocate?—But after all,What’s this affair to us? or, what have weTo do with them? let’s go!—Ha! why those tears?Æsch.Father, beseech you, hear me!Micio.Æschinus,I have heard all, and I know all, already:For I do love you; wherefore all your actionsTouch me the more.Æsch.So may you ever love me,And so may I deserve your love, my father,As I am sorry to have done this fault,And am asham’d to see you!Micio.I believe it;For well I know you have a liberal mind:But I’m afraid you are too negligent,For in what city do you think you live?You have abus’d a virgin, whom the lawForbade your touching.—’Twas a fault, a great one;But yet a natural failing. Many others,Some not bad men, have often done the same.—But after this event, can you pretendYou took the least precaution? or consider’dWhat should be done, or how?—If shame forbadeYour telling me yourself, you should have foundSome other means to let me know of it.Lost in these doubts, ten months have slipp’d away.You have betray’d, as far as in you lay,Yourself, the poor young woman, and your child.What! did you think the Gods would bring aboutThis business in your sleep; and that your wife,Without your stir, would be convey’d to youInto your bed-chamber?—I would not have youThus negligent in other matters.—Come,Cheer up, son! you shall wed her.Æsch.How!Micio.Cheer up,I say!Æsch.Nay, prithee, do not mock me, father!Micio.Mock you? I? wherefore?Æsch.I don’t know; unlessThat I so much desire it may be true,I therefore fear it more.Micio.—Away; go home;And pray the Gods, that you may call your wifeAway!Æsch.How’s that? my wife? what! now?Micio.Now.Æsch.Now?Micio.Ev’n now, as soon as possible.Æsch.May allThe Gods desert me, Sir, but I do love you,More than my eyes!Micio.Than her?Æsch.As well.Micio.That’s much.Æsch.But where is that Milesian?Micio.Gone:Vanish’d: on board the ship.—But why d’ye loiter?Æsch.Ah, Sir, you rather go, and pray the Gods;For, being a much better man than I,They will the sooner hear your pray’rs.Micio.I’ll in,To see the needful preparations made.You, if you’re wise, do as I said.Exit.SCENE VII.Æschinusalone.How’s this?Is this to be a father? Or is thisTo be a son?—Were he my friend or brother,Could he be more complacent to my wish?Should I not love him? bear him in my bosom!Ah! his great kindness has so wrought upon me,That it shall be the study of my lifeTo shun all follies, lest they give him pain.But wherefore do I loiter here, and thusRetard my marriage by my own delay?—But I’ll in straight, that I may not retardMy marriage by my own delay.Exit.SCENE VIII.Demeaalone.I’ve walk’d, and walk’d, till I’m quite tir’d with walking.—Almighty Jove confound you, Syrus, I say;I’m tir’dWith walking.—Now great Jove confound you, Syrus;You and your blind directions! I have crawl’dAll the town over: to the gate; the pond;Where not? No sign of any shop was there,Nor any person who had seen my brother.—Now I’ll in, therefore, and set up my restIn his own house, till he comes home again. (Going.SCENE IX.EnterMicio.
SyrusWe’ve just disclos’dThe whole of this affair to Micio,Syrus(to himself). We’ve justDisclos’d the whole of this affair to Micio,Exactly as it happen’d. I ne’er sawThe good old gentleman more pleas’d.Dem.Oh Heav’n,The folly of the man! (Listening.)Syrus(to himself). He prais’d his son;Me, who concerted the whole scheme, he thank’d.Dem.I burst with rage. (Listening.)Syrus(to himself). He told the money downImmediately, and threw us in beside,To make an entertainment, a half-mina:Which I’ve laid out according to my liking.Dem.So! if you’d have your business well discharg’d,Dem.So! if you’d have your business well ta’en care of,Commit it to this fellow!Syrus(overhearing). Who’s there? Demea!I did not see you, Sir. How goes it?Dem.How?I can’t sufficiently admire your conduct.Syrus(negligently). Silly enough, to say the truth, and idle.Here! Hark ye, Dromo! see you gut and scaleThe other fish immediately: But let(To servants within). Cleanse you the rest of those fish, Dromo: letThat large eel play a little in the water.When I return it shall be bon’d; till thenIt must not be.Dem.Are crimes like these——Syrus(toDemea). IndeedI like them not, and oft cry shame upon them.—(To servants within.) See that those salt fish are well soak’d, Stephanio.Dem.Gods! is this done on purpose? Does he think’Tis laudable to spoil his son? Alas!I think I see the day when ÆschinusShall fly for want, and list himself a soldier.Syrus.O Demea! that is to be wise: to see,Not that alone which lies before your feet,But ev’n to pry into futurity.Dem.What! is the Music-Girl at your house?Syrus.Aye,Madam’s within.Dem.What! and is ÆschinusTo keep her at home with him?Syrus.I believe so;Such is their madness.Dem.Is it possible?Syrus.A fond and foolish father!Dem.I’m asham’dTo own my brother; I’m griev’d for him.Syrus.Ah!There is a deal of diff’rence, Demea,—Nor is’t because you’re present that I say this——There is a mighty difference between you!You are, from top to toe, all over wisdom:He a mere dotard.—Would you e’er permitYour boy to do such things?Dem.Permit him? I?Or should I not much rather smell him outSix months before he did but dream of it?Syrus.Pshaw! do you boast your vigilance to me?Dem.Heav’n keep him ever as he is at present!Syrus.As fathersformtheir children, so they prove.Dem.But, prithee, have you seen the lad to-day?Dem.But now we’re speaking of him, have you seenThe lad to-day? (With an affected carelessness.)Syrus.Your son, d’ye mean?—I’ll drive him out of town.He’s hard at work upon your grounds by this time.Dem.Ay? Are you sure he’s gone into the country?Syrus.Your son d’ye mean?—I’ll drive himInto the country. (Aside.)—He is hard at workUpon your grounds by this time. (ToDemea.)Dem.Are you sure on’t?Syrus.Sure? I set out with him myself.Dem.Good! good!I was afraid he loiter’d here. (Aside.)Syrus.And muchEnrag’d, I promise you.Dem.On what account?Syrus.A quarrel with his brother at the Forum,About the Music-Girl.Dem.Indeed?Syrus.Aye, faith:He did not mince the matter: he spoke out;For as the cash was telling down, in pops,All unexpected, Master Ctesipho:Cries out—“Oh Æschinus, are these your courses?These your persuits? enormities like these?Oh shame! oh scandal to our family!”Do you commit these crimes? and do you bringSuch a disgrace upon our family?”Dem.Oh, oh, I weep for joy.Syrus.——“You squander notThe money only, but your life, your honor.”Dem.Heav’n bless him; he is like his ancestors. (Weeping.)Syrus.Father’s own son, I warrant him.Dem.Oh, Syrus!He’s full of all those precepts, he!Syrus.No doubt on’t:He need not go from home for good instruction.Dem.I spare no pains; neglect no means; I train him.—In short, I bid him look into the livesOf all, as in a mirror, and thence drawFrom others an example for himself.—“Do this.”——Syrus.Good!Dem.“Fly that.”Syrus.Very good!Dem.“This deedIs highly commendable.”Is commendable.”Syrus.That’s the thing!Dem.“That’s reprehensible.”Syrus.Most excellent!Dem.“And then moreover——”Syrus.Faith, I have not timeTo give you further audience just at present,I’ve got an admirable dish of fish;And I must take good care they are not spoil’d.For that were an offense as grievous, Demea,In us, as ’twere in you to leave undoneThe things you just now mentioned: and I try,According to my weak abilities,To teach my fellow-slaves the self-same way.—“This is too salt.—This is burnt up too much.That is not nice and cleanly.—That’s well done.Mind, and do so again.”—I spare no pains,And give them the best precepts that I can.In short, I bid them look into the dishes,As in a mirror, Demea, and thence learnThe duty of a cook.—This school of ours,I own, is idle: but what can you do?According to the man must be the lesson.—Would you aught else with us?Dem.Your reformation.Syrus.Do you go hence into the country?Dem.Straight.Syrus.For what should you do here, where nobody,However good your precepts, cares to mind them?Exit.
SyrusWe’ve just disclos’dThe whole of this affair to Micio,
SyrusWe’ve just disclos’d
The whole of this affair to Micio,
Syrus(to himself). We’ve just
Disclos’d the whole of this affair to Micio,
Exactly as it happen’d. I ne’er saw
The good old gentleman more pleas’d.
Dem.Oh Heav’n,
The folly of the man! (Listening.)
Syrus(to himself). He prais’d his son;
Me, who concerted the whole scheme, he thank’d.
Dem.I burst with rage. (Listening.)
Syrus(to himself). He told the money down
Immediately, and threw us in beside,
To make an entertainment, a half-mina:
Which I’ve laid out according to my liking.
Dem.So! if you’d have your business well discharg’d,
Dem.So! if you’d have your business well ta’en care of,
Commit it to this fellow!
Syrus(overhearing). Who’s there? Demea!
I did not see you, Sir. How goes it?
Dem.How?
I can’t sufficiently admire your conduct.
Syrus(negligently). Silly enough, to say the truth, and idle.
Here! Hark ye, Dromo! see you gut and scaleThe other fish immediately: But let
Here! Hark ye, Dromo! see you gut and scale
The other fish immediately: But let
(To servants within). Cleanse you the rest of those fish, Dromo: let
That large eel play a little in the water.
When I return it shall be bon’d; till then
It must not be.
Dem.Are crimes like these——
Syrus(toDemea). Indeed
I like them not, and oft cry shame upon them.
—(To servants within.) See that those salt fish are well soak’d, Stephanio.
Dem.Gods! is this done on purpose? Does he think
’Tis laudable to spoil his son? Alas!
I think I see the day when Æschinus
Shall fly for want, and list himself a soldier.
Syrus.O Demea! that is to be wise: to see,
Not that alone which lies before your feet,
But ev’n to pry into futurity.
Dem.What! is the Music-Girl at your house?
Syrus.Aye,
Madam’s within.
Dem.What! and is Æschinus
To keep her at home with him?
Syrus.I believe so;
Such is their madness.
Dem.Is it possible?
Syrus.A fond and foolish father!
Dem.I’m asham’d
To own my brother; I’m griev’d for him.
Syrus.Ah!
There is a deal of diff’rence, Demea,
—Nor is’t because you’re present that I say this——
There is a mighty difference between you!
You are, from top to toe, all over wisdom:
He a mere dotard.—Would you e’er permit
Your boy to do such things?
Dem.Permit him? I?
Or should I not much rather smell him out
Six months before he did but dream of it?
Syrus.Pshaw! do you boast your vigilance to me?
Dem.Heav’n keep him ever as he is at present!
Syrus.As fathersformtheir children, so they prove.
Dem.But, prithee, have you seen the lad to-day?
Dem.But, prithee, have you seen the lad to-day?
Dem.But now we’re speaking of him, have you seen
The lad to-day? (With an affected carelessness.)
Syrus.Your son, d’ye mean?—I’ll drive him out of town.He’s hard at work upon your grounds by this time.Dem.Ay? Are you sure he’s gone into the country?
Syrus.Your son, d’ye mean?—I’ll drive him out of town.
He’s hard at work upon your grounds by this time.
Dem.Ay? Are you sure he’s gone into the country?
Syrus.Your son d’ye mean?—I’ll drive him
Into the country. (Aside.)—He is hard at work
Upon your grounds by this time. (ToDemea.)
Dem.Are you sure on’t?
Syrus.Sure? I set out with him myself.
Dem.Good! good!
I was afraid he loiter’d here. (Aside.)
Syrus.And much
Enrag’d, I promise you.
Dem.On what account?
Syrus.A quarrel with his brother at the Forum,
About the Music-Girl.
Dem.Indeed?
Syrus.Aye, faith:
He did not mince the matter: he spoke out;
For as the cash was telling down, in pops,
All unexpected, Master Ctesipho:
Cries out—“Oh Æschinus, are these your courses?
These your persuits? enormities like these?Oh shame! oh scandal to our family!”
These your persuits? enormities like these?
Oh shame! oh scandal to our family!”
Do you commit these crimes? and do you bring
Such a disgrace upon our family?”
Dem.Oh, oh, I weep for joy.
Syrus.——“You squander not
The money only, but your life, your honor.”
Dem.Heav’n bless him; he is like his ancestors. (Weeping.)
Syrus.Father’s own son, I warrant him.
Dem.Oh, Syrus!
He’s full of all those precepts, he!
Syrus.No doubt on’t:
He need not go from home for good instruction.
Dem.I spare no pains; neglect no means; I train him.
—In short, I bid him look into the lives
Of all, as in a mirror, and thence draw
From others an example for himself.
—“Do this.”——
Syrus.Good!
Dem.“Fly that.”
Syrus.Very good!
Dem.“This deed
Is highly commendable.”
Is commendable.”
Syrus.That’s the thing!
Dem.“That’s reprehensible.”
Syrus.Most excellent!
Dem.“And then moreover——”
Syrus.Faith, I have not time
To give you further audience just at present,
I’ve got an admirable dish of fish;
And I must take good care they are not spoil’d.
For that were an offense as grievous, Demea,
In us, as ’twere in you to leave undone
The things you just now mentioned: and I try,
According to my weak abilities,
To teach my fellow-slaves the self-same way.
—“This is too salt.—This is burnt up too much.
That is not nice and cleanly.—That’s well done.
Mind, and do so again.”—I spare no pains,
And give them the best precepts that I can.
In short, I bid them look into the dishes,
As in a mirror, Demea, and thence learn
The duty of a cook.—This school of ours,
I own, is idle: but what can you do?
According to the man must be the lesson.
—Would you aught else with us?
Dem.Your reformation.
Syrus.Do you go hence into the country?
Dem.Straight.
Syrus.For what should you do here, where nobody,
However good your precepts, cares to mind them?
Exit.
Demeaalone.
I then will hence, since he, on whose accountI hither came, is gone into the country.Heis my only care,He’smy concern.My brother, since he needs will have it so,May look to Æschinus himself.——But whoIs coming yonder? Hegio, of our tribe?If I see plainly, beyond doubt ’tis he.Ah, we’ve been old acquaintance quite from boys;And such men nowadays are wondrous scarce.A citizen of ancient faith and virtue!The commonwealth will ne’er reap harm from him.How I rejoice to see but the remainsOf this old stock! Ah, life’s a pleasure now.I’ll wait, that I may ask about his health,And have a little conversation with him.
I then will hence, since he, on whose account
I hither came, is gone into the country.
Heis my only care,He’smy concern.
My brother, since he needs will have it so,
May look to Æschinus himself.——But who
Is coming yonder? Hegio, of our tribe?
If I see plainly, beyond doubt ’tis he.
Ah, we’ve been old acquaintance quite from boys;
And such men nowadays are wondrous scarce.
A citizen of ancient faith and virtue!
The commonwealth will ne’er reap harm from him.
How I rejoice to see but the remains
Of this old stock! Ah, life’s a pleasure now.
I’ll wait, that I may ask about his health,
And have a little conversation with him.
EnterHegio,Getaconversing at a distance.
Hegio.Can it be true?Geta.Ev’n so.Hegio.Good Heaven! a most unworthy action, Geta!Geta.Ev’n so.Hegio.A deed so baseSprung from that family?—Oh Æschinus,This was not acting like your father.Dem.(behind.) So!He has just heard about this Musick-Girl,And is affected at it, though a stranger,While his good father truly thinks it nothing.Oh monstrous! would that he were somewhere nigh,And heard all this!Hegio.Unless they do you justiceThey shall not carry off the matter thus.Hegio.A deed so baseSprung from that family?—Oh Æschinus,I’m sure this was not acting like your father.Dem.(behind.) So! he has heard about this Music-Girl,And is affected at it, though a stranger,While his good father truly thinks it nothing.Oh monstrous! would that he were somewhere nigh,And heard all this!Hegio.Unless they do what’s just,They shall not carry off the matter thus.Geta.Our only hope is in you, Hegio.You’re our sole friend, our guardian, and our father,On his death-bed, the good old SimulusThe good old Simulus, on his death-bedBequeath’d us to your care. If you desert us,We are undone indeed.Hegio.Ah, name it not!I will not, and with honesty, I can not.Dem.I’ll go up to him.—Save you, Hegio!Hegio.The man I look’d for.—Save you, Demea!Dem.Your pleasure!Hegio.Æschinus, your elder son,Your brother’s by adoption, has committedAdopted by your brother, has committedA deed unworthy of an honest man,And of a gentleman.Dem.How so?Hegio.You knewOur friend and good acquaintance, Simulus?Dem.Aye, sure.Hegio.He has debauch’d his daughter.Dem.How!Hegio.Hold, Demea, for the worst is still to come.Dem.Is there aught worse?Hegio.Much worse: for this perhapsMight be excus’d. The night, love, wine, and youth,Might prompt him. ’Tis the frailty of our nature.—Soon as his sense returning made him consciousOf his rash outrage, of his own accordHe came to the girl’s mother, weeping, praying.Entreating, vowing constancy, and swearingThat he would take her home.—He was forgiven;The thing conceal’d; and his vows credited.The girl from that encounter prov’d with child:This is the tenth month.—He, good gentleman,Has got a music-girl, Heav’n bless the mark!With whom he means to live, and quit the other.Dem.And are you well assur’d of this?Hegio.The mother,The girl, the fact itself, are all before you,Joining to vouch the truth on’t. And besides,This Geta here—as servants go, no bad one,Nor given up to idleness—maintains them;The sole support of all the family.Here take him, bind him, force the truth from him.Geta.Aye, torture me, if ’tis not so, good Demea!Nay, Æschinus, I’m sure, will not deny it.Bring me before him.Dem.(aside). I’m asham’d: and whatTo do, or what to say to him, I know not.Pamphila(within). Ah me! I’m torn in pieces!—Racking pains!Juno Lucina, help me! save, I pray thee!Hegio.Ha! Is she then in labor,Geta?Geta.Yes, Sir.Hegio.Hark! she now calls upon your justice, Demea!Grant her then freely, what law else will claim.And Heaven send, that you may rather doWhat honor bids! but if you mean it not,Be sure of this; that with my utmost forceI’ll vindicate the girl, and her dead father;He was my kinsman; we were bred togetherFrom children; and our fortunes twin’d togetherIn war, and peace, and bitter poverty.Wherefore I’ll try, endeavor, strive, nay loseMy life itself, before I will forsake them.—What is your answer?Dem.I’ll find out my brother:What he advises, I will follow, Hegio.Hegio.But still remember, Demea, that the moreYou live at ease; the more your pow’r, your wealth,Your riches, and nobility; the moreIt is your duty to act honorably,If you regard the name of honest men.Dem.Go to: we’ll do you justice.Hegio.’Twill become you.Geta, conduct me in to Sostrata.Exit withGeta.
Hegio.Can it be true?Geta.Ev’n so.Hegio.Good Heaven! a most unworthy action, Geta!Geta.Ev’n so.Hegio.A deed so baseSprung from that family?—Oh Æschinus,This was not acting like your father.Dem.(behind.) So!He has just heard about this Musick-Girl,And is affected at it, though a stranger,While his good father truly thinks it nothing.Oh monstrous! would that he were somewhere nigh,And heard all this!Hegio.Unless they do you justiceThey shall not carry off the matter thus.Hegio.A deed so baseSprung from that family?—Oh Æschinus,I’m sure this was not acting like your father.Dem.(behind.) So! he has heard about this Music-Girl,And is affected at it, though a stranger,While his good father truly thinks it nothing.Oh monstrous! would that he were somewhere nigh,And heard all this!Hegio.Unless they do what’s just,They shall not carry off the matter thus.Geta.Our only hope is in you, Hegio.You’re our sole friend, our guardian, and our father,On his death-bed, the good old SimulusThe good old Simulus, on his death-bedBequeath’d us to your care. If you desert us,We are undone indeed.Hegio.Ah, name it not!I will not, and with honesty, I can not.Dem.I’ll go up to him.—Save you, Hegio!Hegio.The man I look’d for.—Save you, Demea!Dem.Your pleasure!Hegio.Æschinus, your elder son,Your brother’s by adoption, has committedAdopted by your brother, has committedA deed unworthy of an honest man,And of a gentleman.Dem.How so?
Hegio.Can it be true?Geta.Ev’n so.
Hegio.Can it be true?
Geta.Ev’n so.
Hegio.Good Heaven! a most unworthy action, Geta!
Geta.Ev’n so.
Hegio.A deed so baseSprung from that family?—Oh Æschinus,This was not acting like your father.Dem.(behind.) So!He has just heard about this Musick-Girl,And is affected at it, though a stranger,While his good father truly thinks it nothing.Oh monstrous! would that he were somewhere nigh,And heard all this!Hegio.Unless they do you justiceThey shall not carry off the matter thus.
Hegio.A deed so base
Sprung from that family?—Oh Æschinus,
This was not acting like your father.
Dem.(behind.) So!
He has just heard about this Musick-Girl,
And is affected at it, though a stranger,
While his good father truly thinks it nothing.
Oh monstrous! would that he were somewhere nigh,
And heard all this!
Hegio.Unless they do you justice
They shall not carry off the matter thus.
Hegio.A deed so base
Sprung from that family?—Oh Æschinus,
I’m sure this was not acting like your father.
Dem.(behind.) So! he has heard about this Music-Girl,
And is affected at it, though a stranger,
While his good father truly thinks it nothing.
Oh monstrous! would that he were somewhere nigh,
And heard all this!
Hegio.Unless they do what’s just,
They shall not carry off the matter thus.
Geta.Our only hope is in you, Hegio.
You’re our sole friend, our guardian, and our father,
On his death-bed, the good old Simulus
The good old Simulus, on his death-bed
Bequeath’d us to your care. If you desert us,
We are undone indeed.
Hegio.Ah, name it not!
I will not, and with honesty, I can not.
Dem.I’ll go up to him.—Save you, Hegio!
Hegio.The man I look’d for.—Save you, Demea!
Dem.Your pleasure!
Hegio.Æschinus, your elder son,
Your brother’s by adoption, has committed
Adopted by your brother, has committed
A deed unworthy of an honest man,
And of a gentleman.
Dem.How so?
Hegio.You knew
Our friend and good acquaintance, Simulus?
Dem.Aye, sure.
Hegio.He has debauch’d his daughter.
Dem.How!
Hegio.Hold, Demea, for the worst is still to come.
Dem.Is there aught worse?
Hegio.Much worse: for this perhaps
Might be excus’d. The night, love, wine, and youth,
Might prompt him. ’Tis the frailty of our nature.
—Soon as his sense returning made him conscious
Of his rash outrage, of his own accord
He came to the girl’s mother, weeping, praying.
Entreating, vowing constancy, and swearing
That he would take her home.—He was forgiven;
The thing conceal’d; and his vows credited.
The girl from that encounter prov’d with child:
This is the tenth month.—He, good gentleman,
Has got a music-girl, Heav’n bless the mark!
With whom he means to live, and quit the other.
Dem.And are you well assur’d of this?
Hegio.The mother,
The girl, the fact itself, are all before you,
Joining to vouch the truth on’t. And besides,
This Geta here—as servants go, no bad one,
Nor given up to idleness—maintains them;
The sole support of all the family.
Here take him, bind him, force the truth from him.
Geta.Aye, torture me, if ’tis not so, good Demea!
Nay, Æschinus, I’m sure, will not deny it.
Bring me before him.
Dem.(aside). I’m asham’d: and what
To do, or what to say to him, I know not.
Pamphila(within). Ah me! I’m torn in pieces!—Racking pains!
Juno Lucina, help me! save, I pray thee!
Hegio.Ha! Is she then in labor,Geta?
Geta.Yes, Sir.
Hegio.Hark! she now calls upon your justice, Demea!
Grant her then freely, what law else will claim.
And Heaven send, that you may rather do
What honor bids! but if you mean it not,
Be sure of this; that with my utmost force
I’ll vindicate the girl, and her dead father;
He was my kinsman; we were bred together
From children; and our fortunes twin’d together
In war, and peace, and bitter poverty.
Wherefore I’ll try, endeavor, strive, nay lose
My life itself, before I will forsake them.
—What is your answer?
Dem.I’ll find out my brother:
What he advises, I will follow, Hegio.
Hegio.But still remember, Demea, that the more
You live at ease; the more your pow’r, your wealth,
Your riches, and nobility; the more
It is your duty to act honorably,
If you regard the name of honest men.
Dem.Go to: we’ll do you justice.
Hegio.’Twill become you.
Geta, conduct me in to Sostrata.
Exit withGeta.
Demeaalone.
This is no more than I foretold: and wellIf his intemp’rance would stophere!—But thisImmoderate indulgence must produceSome terrible misfortune in the end.—I’ll hence, find out my brother, tell my news,And empty all my indignation on him.Exit.
This is no more than I foretold: and well
If his intemp’rance would stophere!—But this
Immoderate indulgence must produce
Some terrible misfortune in the end.
—I’ll hence, find out my brother, tell my news,
And empty all my indignation on him.
Exit.
Re-enterHegio, speaking toSostrataat the door.
Be of good cheer, my Sostrata; and comfort,As much as in your pow’r, poor Pamphila!I’ll find out Micio, if he’s at the Forum,And tell him the whole story: if he’ll actWith honor in it, why ’tis well; if not,Let him but speak his mind to me, and thenI shall know how to act accordingly.Exit.
Be of good cheer, my Sostrata; and comfort,
As much as in your pow’r, poor Pamphila!
I’ll find out Micio, if he’s at the Forum,
And tell him the whole story: if he’ll act
With honor in it, why ’tis well; if not,
Let him but speak his mind to me, and then
I shall know how to act accordingly.
Exit.
Ctesipho,Syrus.
Ctes.My father gone into the country, say you?Syrus.Long since.Ctes.Nay; speak the truth!Syrus.He’s at his farm,And hard at work, I warrant you.Ctes.I wish,So that his health were not the worse for it,He might so heartily fatigue himself,As to be forc’d to keep his bed these three days!Syrus.I wish so too; and more, if possible.Ctes.With all my heart: for I would fain consume,As I’ve begun, the livelong day in pleasure.Nor do I hate that farm of ours so muchFor any thing, as that it is so near.For if ’twas at a greater distance, nightWould come upon him ere he could return.But now, not finding me, I’m very sureHe’ll hobble back again immediately;Question me where I’ve been, that I’ve not seen himAll the day long; and what shall I reply?Syrus.What? can you think of nothing?Ctes.No, not I.Syrus.So much the worse.—Have you no client, friend,Or guest?Ctes.I have. What then?Syrus.You’ve been engag’dWith them.Ctes.When not engag’d? It can not be.Syrus.It may.Ctes.Aye, marry, for the day I grant you.But if I pass the night here, what excuseThen, Syrus?Syrus.Ah! I would it were the customTo be engag’d at night too with one’s friends!—But be at ease! I know his mind so well,That when he raves the loudest, I can make himAs gentle as a lamb.Ctes.How so?Syrus.He lovesTo hear you prais’d. I sing your praises to him,And make you out a little God.Ctes.Me!Syrus.You.And then the old man blubbers like a child,For very joy.—But have a care! (Looking out.)Ctes.What now?Syrus.The wolf i’ th’ fable!Ctes.What, my father?Syrus.He.Ctes.What’s the best, Syrus?Syrus.In! fly! I’ll take care.Ctes.You have not seen me, if he asks: d’ye hear?Syrus.Can’t you be quiet? (Pushes outCtesipho.)
Ctes.My father gone into the country, say you?
Syrus.Long since.
Ctes.Nay; speak the truth!
Syrus.He’s at his farm,
And hard at work, I warrant you.
Ctes.I wish,
So that his health were not the worse for it,
He might so heartily fatigue himself,
As to be forc’d to keep his bed these three days!
Syrus.I wish so too; and more, if possible.
Ctes.With all my heart: for I would fain consume,
As I’ve begun, the livelong day in pleasure.
Nor do I hate that farm of ours so much
For any thing, as that it is so near.
For if ’twas at a greater distance, night
Would come upon him ere he could return.
But now, not finding me, I’m very sure
He’ll hobble back again immediately;
Question me where I’ve been, that I’ve not seen him
All the day long; and what shall I reply?
Syrus.What? can you think of nothing?
Ctes.No, not I.
Syrus.So much the worse.—Have you no client, friend,
Or guest?
Ctes.I have. What then?
Syrus.You’ve been engag’d
With them.
Ctes.When not engag’d? It can not be.
Syrus.It may.
Ctes.Aye, marry, for the day I grant you.
But if I pass the night here, what excuse
Then, Syrus?
Syrus.Ah! I would it were the custom
To be engag’d at night too with one’s friends!
—But be at ease! I know his mind so well,
That when he raves the loudest, I can make him
As gentle as a lamb.
Ctes.How so?
Syrus.He loves
To hear you prais’d. I sing your praises to him,
And make you out a little God.
Ctes.Me!
Syrus.You.
And then the old man blubbers like a child,
For very joy.—But have a care! (Looking out.)
Ctes.What now?
Syrus.The wolf i’ th’ fable!
Ctes.What, my father?
Syrus.He.
Ctes.What’s the best, Syrus?
Syrus.In! fly! I’ll take care.
Ctes.You have not seen me, if he asks: d’ye hear?
Syrus.Can’t you be quiet? (Pushes outCtesipho.)
EnterDemeaat another part of the stage.
Dem.Verily I amA most unhappy man! for first of all,I can not find my brother any where:And then besides, in looking after him,I chanc’d on one of my day laborers,Who had but newly left my farm, and told meCtesipho was not there. What shall I do?Ctes.(peeping out.) Syrus?Syrus.What?(Apart.)Ctes.Does he seek me?Syrus.Yes.Ctes.Undone!Syrus.Courage!Dem.(to himself). Plague on it, what ill luck is this?I can’t account for it: but I believeThat I was born for nothing but misfortunes.I am the first who feels our woes; the firstWho knows of them; the first who tells the news:And come what may, I bear the weight alone.Syrus(behind). Ridiculous! he says he knows all first;And he alone is ignorant of all.Dem.I’m now return’d to see if MicioBe yet come home again.Ctes.(peeping out). Take care, good Syrus,He don’t rush in upon us unawares!Syrus.Peace! I’ll take care.(Apart.)Ctes.’Faith, I’ll not trust to you,But shut myself and her in some by-placeTogether: that’s the safest.Syrus.Well, away! (Ctesiphodisappears.)I’ll drive the old man hence, I warrant you.Dem.(seeingSyrus). But see that rascal Syrus coming hither!Syrus(advancing hastily, and pretending not to seeDemea).By Hercules, there is no living here,For any one, at this rate.—I’d fain knowHow many masters I’m to have.—Oh monstrous!Dem.What does he howl for? what’s the meaning on’t?Hark ye, my good Sir! prithee tell me ifMy brother be at home.Syrus.My good Sir!Plague!Why do you come with yourgood Sirsto me?I’m half-kill’d.Dem.What’s the matter?Syrus.What’s the matter!Ctesipho, vengeance on him, fell upon me,And cudgel’d me and the poor Music-GirlAlmost to death.Dem.Indeed?Syrus.Indeed. Nay seeHow he has cut my lip. (Pretending to show it.)Dem.On what account?Syrus.The girl, he says, was bought by my advice.Dem.Did not you say you saw him out of townA little while ago?Syrus.And so I did.But he came back soon after, like a madman.He had no mercy.—Was not he asham’dTo beat a poor old fellow? to beat me;Who bore him in my arms but t’other day,An urchin thus high? (Showing.)Dem.Oh rare, Ctesipho!Father’s own son! a man, I warrant him.Syrus.Oh rare, d’ye cry? I’ faith, if he is wise,He’ll hold his hands another time.Dem.Oh brave!Syrus.Oh mighty brave, indeed!—Because he beatA helpless girl, and me a wretched slave,Who durst not strike again;—oh, to be sure,Mighty brave, truly!Dem.Oh, most exquisite!My Ctesipho perceived, as well as I,That you was the contriver of this business.—But is my brother here?Syrus.Not he. (Sulkily.)Dem.I’m thinkingWhere I shall seek him.Syrus.I know where he is:But I’ll not tell.Dem.How, Sirrah?Syrus.Even so.Dem.I’ll break your head.Syrus.I can not tell the nameOf him he’s gone to, but I know the place.Dem.Well, where’s the place?Syrus.D’ye know the PorticoJust by the market, down this way? (Pointing.)Dem.I do.Syrus.Go straight along that street: and at the endSyrus.Go up that street; keep straight along: and thenYou’ll see a hill; go straight down that: and thenOn this hand, there’s a chapel; and just byA narrow lane. (Pointing.)Dem.Where? (Looking.)Syrus.There; by the great wild fig-tree.D’ye know it, Sir?Dem.I do.Syrus.Go through that lane.Dem.That lane’s no thoroughfare.Syrus.Aye, very true:No more it is, Sir.—What a fool I am!I was mistaken—You must go quite backInto the portico; and after all,This is the nearest and the safest way.—D’ye know Cratinus’ house? the rich man?Dem.Aye.Syrus.When you’ve pass’d that, turn short upon the left.Keep straight along that street, and when you reachDiana’s Temple, turn upon the right.And then, on this side of the city gate,Just by the pond, there is a baker’s shop,And opposite a joiner’s.—There he is.Dem.What business has he there?Syrus.He has bespokeSome tables to be made with oaken legsTo stand the sun.Dem.For you to drink upon.Oh brave! But I lose time. I’ll after him.Exit hastily.
Dem.Verily I am
A most unhappy man! for first of all,
I can not find my brother any where:
And then besides, in looking after him,
I chanc’d on one of my day laborers,
Who had but newly left my farm, and told me
Ctesipho was not there. What shall I do?
Ctes.(peeping out.) Syrus?
Syrus.What?
Ctes.Does he seek me?
Syrus.Yes.
Ctes.Undone!
Syrus.Courage!
Dem.(to himself). Plague on it, what ill luck is this?
I can’t account for it: but I believe
That I was born for nothing but misfortunes.
I am the first who feels our woes; the first
Who knows of them; the first who tells the news:
And come what may, I bear the weight alone.
Syrus(behind). Ridiculous! he says he knows all first;
And he alone is ignorant of all.
Dem.I’m now return’d to see if Micio
Be yet come home again.
Ctes.(peeping out). Take care, good Syrus,
He don’t rush in upon us unawares!
Syrus.Peace! I’ll take care.
Ctes.’Faith, I’ll not trust to you,
But shut myself and her in some by-place
Together: that’s the safest.
Syrus.Well, away! (Ctesiphodisappears.)
I’ll drive the old man hence, I warrant you.
Dem.(seeingSyrus). But see that rascal Syrus coming hither!
Syrus(advancing hastily, and pretending not to seeDemea).
By Hercules, there is no living here,
For any one, at this rate.—I’d fain know
How many masters I’m to have.—Oh monstrous!
Dem.What does he howl for? what’s the meaning on’t?
Hark ye, my good Sir! prithee tell me if
My brother be at home.
Syrus.My good Sir!Plague!
Why do you come with yourgood Sirsto me?
I’m half-kill’d.
Dem.What’s the matter?
Syrus.What’s the matter!
Ctesipho, vengeance on him, fell upon me,
And cudgel’d me and the poor Music-Girl
Almost to death.
Dem.Indeed?
Syrus.Indeed. Nay see
How he has cut my lip. (Pretending to show it.)
Dem.On what account?
Syrus.The girl, he says, was bought by my advice.
Dem.Did not you say you saw him out of town
A little while ago?
Syrus.And so I did.
But he came back soon after, like a madman.
He had no mercy.—Was not he asham’d
To beat a poor old fellow? to beat me;
Who bore him in my arms but t’other day,
An urchin thus high? (Showing.)
Dem.Oh rare, Ctesipho!
Father’s own son! a man, I warrant him.
Syrus.Oh rare, d’ye cry? I’ faith, if he is wise,
He’ll hold his hands another time.
Dem.Oh brave!
Syrus.Oh mighty brave, indeed!—Because he beat
A helpless girl, and me a wretched slave,
Who durst not strike again;—oh, to be sure,
Mighty brave, truly!
Dem.Oh, most exquisite!
My Ctesipho perceived, as well as I,
That you was the contriver of this business.
—But is my brother here?
Syrus.Not he. (Sulkily.)
Dem.I’m thinking
Where I shall seek him.
Syrus.I know where he is:
But I’ll not tell.
Dem.How, Sirrah?
Syrus.Even so.
Dem.I’ll break your head.
Syrus.I can not tell the name
Of him he’s gone to, but I know the place.
Dem.Well, where’s the place?
Syrus.D’ye know the Portico
Just by the market, down this way? (Pointing.)
Dem.I do.Syrus.Go straight along that street: and at the endSyrus.Go up that street; keep straight along: and thenYou’ll see a hill; go straight down that: and thenOn this hand, there’s a chapel; and just byA narrow lane. (Pointing.)Dem.Where? (Looking.)Syrus.There; by the great wild fig-tree.D’ye know it, Sir?
Dem.I do.
Syrus.Go straight along that street: and at the end
Syrus.Go up that street; keep straight along: and then
You’ll see a hill; go straight down that: and then
On this hand, there’s a chapel; and just by
A narrow lane. (Pointing.)
Dem.Where? (Looking.)
Syrus.There; by the great wild fig-tree.
D’ye know it, Sir?
Dem.I do.
Syrus.Go through that lane.
Dem.That lane’s no thoroughfare.
Syrus.Aye, very true:
No more it is, Sir.—What a fool I am!
I was mistaken—You must go quite back
Into the portico; and after all,
This is the nearest and the safest way.
—D’ye know Cratinus’ house? the rich man?
Dem.Aye.
Syrus.When you’ve pass’d that, turn short upon the left.
Keep straight along that street, and when you reach
Diana’s Temple, turn upon the right.
And then, on this side of the city gate,
Just by the pond, there is a baker’s shop,
And opposite a joiner’s.—There he is.
Dem.What business has he there?
Syrus.He has bespoke
Some tables to be made with oaken legs
To stand the sun.
Dem.For you to drink upon.
Oh brave! But I lose time. I’ll after him.
Exit hastily.
Syrusalone.
Aye, go your ways! I’ll work your old shrunk shanksAs you deserve, old Drybones!—ÆschinusLoiters intolerably. Dinner’s spoil’d.Ctesipho thinks of nothing but his girl.’Tis time for me to look to myself too.Faith, then I’ll in immediately; pick outAll the tid-bits, and tossing off my cups,In lazy leisure lengthen out the day.Exit.
Aye, go your ways! I’ll work your old shrunk shanks
As you deserve, old Drybones!—Æschinus
Loiters intolerably. Dinner’s spoil’d.
Ctesipho thinks of nothing but his girl.
’Tis time for me to look to myself too.
Faith, then I’ll in immediately; pick out
All the tid-bits, and tossing off my cups,
In lazy leisure lengthen out the day.
Exit.
EnterMicioandHegio.
Micio.I can see nothing in this matter, Hegio,Wherein I merit so much commendation.’Tis but my duty, to redress the wrongsThat we have caus’d: unless perhaps you took meFor one of those who, having injur’d you,Term fair expostulation an affront;And having first offended, are the firstTo turn accusers.—I’ve not acted thus:And is’t for this that I am thank’d?Hegio.Ah, no;I never thought you other than you are.But let me beg you, Micio, go with meTo the young woman’s mother, and repeatYourself to her what you have just told me:—That the suspicion, fall’n on Æschinus,Sprung from his brother and the Music-Girl.Micio.If you believe I ought, or think it needful,Let’s go!Hegio.’Tis very kind in you: for thusYou’ll raise her spirit drooping with the loadOf grief and misery, and have perform’dEv’ry good office of benevolence.But if you like it not, I’ll go myself,And tell her the whole story.Micio.No, I’ll go.Hegio.’Tis good and tender in your nature, Micio.For they, whose fortunes are less prosperous,Are all I know not how, the more suspicious;And think themselves neglected and contemn’d,Because of their distress and poverty.Wherefore I think ’twould satisfy them moreIf you would clear up this affair yourself.Micio.What you have said is just, and very true.Hegio.Let me conduct you in!Micio.With all my heart.Exeunt.
Micio.I can see nothing in this matter, Hegio,
Wherein I merit so much commendation.
’Tis but my duty, to redress the wrongs
That we have caus’d: unless perhaps you took me
For one of those who, having injur’d you,
Term fair expostulation an affront;
And having first offended, are the first
To turn accusers.—I’ve not acted thus:
And is’t for this that I am thank’d?
Hegio.Ah, no;
I never thought you other than you are.
But let me beg you, Micio, go with me
To the young woman’s mother, and repeat
Yourself to her what you have just told me:
—That the suspicion, fall’n on Æschinus,
Sprung from his brother and the Music-Girl.
Micio.If you believe I ought, or think it needful,
Let’s go!
Hegio.’Tis very kind in you: for thus
You’ll raise her spirit drooping with the load
Of grief and misery, and have perform’d
Ev’ry good office of benevolence.
But if you like it not, I’ll go myself,
And tell her the whole story.
Micio.No, I’ll go.
Hegio.’Tis good and tender in your nature, Micio.
For they, whose fortunes are less prosperous,
Are all I know not how, the more suspicious;
And think themselves neglected and contemn’d,
Because of their distress and poverty.
Wherefore I think ’twould satisfy them more
If you would clear up this affair yourself.
Micio.What you have said is just, and very true.
Hegio.Let me conduct you in!
Micio.With all my heart.
Exeunt.
Æschinusalone.
Oh torture to my mind! that this misfortuneShould come thus unexpectedly upon me!I know not what to do, which way to turn.Fear shakes my limbs, amazement fills my soul,And in my breast despair shuts out all counsel.Ah, by what means can I acquit myself?Such a suspicion is now fallen on me;And that too grounded on appearances.Sostrata thinks that on my own accountI bought the Music-Girl. That’s plain enoughFrom the old nurse. For meeting her by chance,As she was sent from hence to call a midwife,I ran, and ask’d her of my Pamphila.—“Is she in labor? are you going nowTo call a midwife?”—“Go, go, Æschinus!Away, you have deceiv’d us long enough,Fool’d us enough with your fine promises,”Cried she.—“What now?” says I.—“Farewell, enjoyThe girl that you’re so taken with!”—I sawImmediately their cause of jealousy:Yet I contain’d myself, nor would discloseMy brother’s business to a tattling gossip,By whom the knowledge on’t might be betray’d.—But what shall I do now? shall I confessThe girl to be my brother’s; an affairWhich should by no means be reveal’d?—But notTo dwell on that.—Perhaps they’d not disclose it.Nay, I much doubt if they would credit it:So many proofs concur against myself.——I bore her off: I paid the money down;She was brought home to me.—All this, I own,Is my own fault. For should I not have toldMy father, be it as it might, the whole?I should, I doubt not, have obtain’d his leaveTo marry Pamphila.—What indolence,Ev’n, till this hour! now, Æschinus, awake!—But first I’ll go and clear myself to them.I’ll to the door. (Goes up.) Confusion! how I tremble!How guilty like I seem when I approachThis house! (Knocks.) Holloa! within! ’Tis I;’Tis Æschinus. Come, open somebodyThe door immediately!—Who’s here? A stranger!I’ll step aside. (Retires.)
Oh torture to my mind! that this misfortune
Should come thus unexpectedly upon me!
I know not what to do, which way to turn.
Fear shakes my limbs, amazement fills my soul,
And in my breast despair shuts out all counsel.
Ah, by what means can I acquit myself?
Such a suspicion is now fallen on me;
And that too grounded on appearances.
Sostrata thinks that on my own account
I bought the Music-Girl. That’s plain enough
From the old nurse. For meeting her by chance,
As she was sent from hence to call a midwife,
I ran, and ask’d her of my Pamphila.
—“Is she in labor? are you going now
To call a midwife?”—“Go, go, Æschinus!
Away, you have deceiv’d us long enough,
Fool’d us enough with your fine promises,”
Cried she.—“What now?” says I.—“Farewell, enjoy
The girl that you’re so taken with!”—I saw
Immediately their cause of jealousy:
Yet I contain’d myself, nor would disclose
My brother’s business to a tattling gossip,
By whom the knowledge on’t might be betray’d.
—But what shall I do now? shall I confess
The girl to be my brother’s; an affair
Which should by no means be reveal’d?—But not
To dwell on that.—Perhaps they’d not disclose it.
Nay, I much doubt if they would credit it:
So many proofs concur against myself.——
I bore her off: I paid the money down;
She was brought home to me.—All this, I own,
Is my own fault. For should I not have told
My father, be it as it might, the whole?
I should, I doubt not, have obtain’d his leave
To marry Pamphila.—What indolence,
Ev’n, till this hour! now, Æschinus, awake!
—But first I’ll go and clear myself to them.
I’ll to the door. (Goes up.) Confusion! how I tremble!
How guilty like I seem when I approach
This house! (Knocks.) Holloa! within! ’Tis I;
’Tis Æschinus. Come, open somebody
The door immediately!—Who’s here? A stranger!
I’ll step aside. (Retires.)
EnterMicio.
Micio(toSostrata, within). Do as I have told you, Sostrata.I’ll find out Æschinus, and tell him all.—But who knock’d at the door? (Coming forward.)Æsch.(behind). By Heav’n, my father!Confusion!Micio(seeing him). Æschinus!Æsch.What does he here? (Aside.)Micio.Was’t you that knock’d? What, not a word! SupposeI banter him a little. He deserves it,For never trusting this affair to me. (Aside.)—Why don’t you speak?Æsch.Not I, as I remember. (Disordered.)Micio.No, I dare say, not you: for I was wond’ringWhat business could have brought you here.—He blushes.All’s safe, I find. (Aside.)Æsch.(recovering.) But prithee, tell me, Sir,What brought you here?Micio.No business of my own.But a friend drew me hither from the Forum,To be his advocate.Æsch.In what?Micio.I’ll tell you.This house is tenanted by some poor women,Whom, I believe, you know not;—Nay, I’m sure on’t,For ’twas but lately they came over hither.Æsch.Well?Micio.A young woman and her mother.Æsch.Well?Micio.The father’s dead.—This friend of mine, it seems,Being her next relation, by the lawIs forc’d to marry her.Æsch.Confusion! (Aside.)Micio.How?Æsch.Nothing.—Well?—pray go on, Sir!——Micio.He’s now comeTo take her home, for he is of Miletus.Æsch.How! take her home with him?Micio.Yes, take her home.Æsch.What, to Miletus?Micio.Aye.Æsch.Oh torture! (Aside.)— Well?What say the women?Micio.Why, what should they? Nothing.Indeed the mother has devis’d a taleAbout her daughter’s having had a childBy some one else, but never mentions whom:His claim, she says, is prior; and my friendOught not to have her.Æsch.Well? and did not thisSeem a sufficient reason?Micio.No.Æsch.No, Sir?And shall this next relation take her off?Micio.Aye, to be sure: why not?Æsch.Oh barbarous, cruel!And to speak plainly, Sir—ungenerous!Micio.Why so?Æsch.Why so, Sir?—What d’ye thinkWill come of him, the poor unhappy youthWho was connected with her first—who stillLoves her, perhaps, as dearly as his life;——When he shall see her torn out of his arms,And borne away forever?—Oh shame, shame!Micio.Where is the shame on’t?—Who betroth’d, who gave her?When was she married? and to whom? Where is he,And wherefore did he wed another’s right?Æsch.Was it for her, a girl of such an age,To sit at home, expecting till a kinsmanCame, nobody knows whence, to marry her?—This, Sir, it was your business to have said,And to have dwelt on it.Micio.Ridiculous!Should I have pleaded against him to whomI came an advocate?—But after all,What’s this affair to us? or, what have weTo do with them? let’s go!—Ha! why those tears?Æsch.Father, beseech you, hear me!Micio.Æschinus,I have heard all, and I know all, already:For I do love you; wherefore all your actionsTouch me the more.Æsch.So may you ever love me,And so may I deserve your love, my father,As I am sorry to have done this fault,And am asham’d to see you!Micio.I believe it;For well I know you have a liberal mind:But I’m afraid you are too negligent,For in what city do you think you live?You have abus’d a virgin, whom the lawForbade your touching.—’Twas a fault, a great one;But yet a natural failing. Many others,Some not bad men, have often done the same.—But after this event, can you pretendYou took the least precaution? or consider’dWhat should be done, or how?—If shame forbadeYour telling me yourself, you should have foundSome other means to let me know of it.Lost in these doubts, ten months have slipp’d away.You have betray’d, as far as in you lay,Yourself, the poor young woman, and your child.What! did you think the Gods would bring aboutThis business in your sleep; and that your wife,Without your stir, would be convey’d to youInto your bed-chamber?—I would not have youThus negligent in other matters.—Come,Cheer up, son! you shall wed her.Æsch.How!Micio.Cheer up,I say!Æsch.Nay, prithee, do not mock me, father!Micio.Mock you? I? wherefore?Æsch.I don’t know; unlessThat I so much desire it may be true,I therefore fear it more.Micio.—Away; go home;And pray the Gods, that you may call your wifeAway!Æsch.How’s that? my wife? what! now?Micio.Now.Æsch.Now?Micio.Ev’n now, as soon as possible.Æsch.May allThe Gods desert me, Sir, but I do love you,More than my eyes!Micio.Than her?Æsch.As well.Micio.That’s much.Æsch.But where is that Milesian?Micio.Gone:Vanish’d: on board the ship.—But why d’ye loiter?Æsch.Ah, Sir, you rather go, and pray the Gods;For, being a much better man than I,They will the sooner hear your pray’rs.Micio.I’ll in,To see the needful preparations made.You, if you’re wise, do as I said.Exit.
Micio(toSostrata, within). Do as I have told you, Sostrata.
I’ll find out Æschinus, and tell him all.
—But who knock’d at the door? (Coming forward.)
Æsch.(behind). By Heav’n, my father!
Confusion!
Micio(seeing him). Æschinus!
Æsch.What does he here? (Aside.)
Micio.Was’t you that knock’d? What, not a word! Suppose
I banter him a little. He deserves it,
For never trusting this affair to me. (Aside.)
—Why don’t you speak?
Æsch.Not I, as I remember. (Disordered.)
Micio.No, I dare say, not you: for I was wond’ring
What business could have brought you here.—He blushes.
All’s safe, I find. (Aside.)
Æsch.(recovering.) But prithee, tell me, Sir,
What brought you here?
Micio.No business of my own.
But a friend drew me hither from the Forum,
To be his advocate.
Æsch.In what?
Micio.I’ll tell you.
This house is tenanted by some poor women,
Whom, I believe, you know not;—Nay, I’m sure on’t,
For ’twas but lately they came over hither.
Æsch.Well?
Micio.A young woman and her mother.
Æsch.Well?
Micio.The father’s dead.—This friend of mine, it seems,
Being her next relation, by the law
Is forc’d to marry her.
Æsch.Confusion! (Aside.)
Micio.How?
Æsch.Nothing.—Well?—pray go on, Sir!——
Micio.He’s now come
To take her home, for he is of Miletus.
Æsch.How! take her home with him?
Micio.Yes, take her home.
Æsch.What, to Miletus?
Micio.Aye.
Æsch.Oh torture! (Aside.)— Well?
What say the women?
Micio.Why, what should they? Nothing.
Indeed the mother has devis’d a tale
About her daughter’s having had a child
By some one else, but never mentions whom:
His claim, she says, is prior; and my friend
Ought not to have her.
Æsch.Well? and did not this
Seem a sufficient reason?
Micio.No.
Æsch.No, Sir?
And shall this next relation take her off?
Micio.Aye, to be sure: why not?
Æsch.Oh barbarous, cruel!
And to speak plainly, Sir—ungenerous!
Micio.Why so?
Æsch.Why so, Sir?—What d’ye think
Will come of him, the poor unhappy youth
Who was connected with her first—who still
Loves her, perhaps, as dearly as his life;——
When he shall see her torn out of his arms,
And borne away forever?—Oh shame, shame!
Micio.Where is the shame on’t?—Who betroth’d, who gave her?
When was she married? and to whom? Where is he,
And wherefore did he wed another’s right?
Æsch.Was it for her, a girl of such an age,
To sit at home, expecting till a kinsman
Came, nobody knows whence, to marry her?
—This, Sir, it was your business to have said,
And to have dwelt on it.
Micio.Ridiculous!
Should I have pleaded against him to whom
I came an advocate?—But after all,
What’s this affair to us? or, what have we
To do with them? let’s go!—Ha! why those tears?
Æsch.Father, beseech you, hear me!
Micio.Æschinus,
I have heard all, and I know all, already:
For I do love you; wherefore all your actions
Touch me the more.
Æsch.So may you ever love me,
And so may I deserve your love, my father,
As I am sorry to have done this fault,
And am asham’d to see you!
Micio.I believe it;
For well I know you have a liberal mind:
But I’m afraid you are too negligent,
For in what city do you think you live?
You have abus’d a virgin, whom the law
Forbade your touching.—’Twas a fault, a great one;
But yet a natural failing. Many others,
Some not bad men, have often done the same.
—But after this event, can you pretend
You took the least precaution? or consider’d
What should be done, or how?—If shame forbade
Your telling me yourself, you should have found
Some other means to let me know of it.
Lost in these doubts, ten months have slipp’d away.
You have betray’d, as far as in you lay,
Yourself, the poor young woman, and your child.
What! did you think the Gods would bring about
This business in your sleep; and that your wife,
Without your stir, would be convey’d to you
Into your bed-chamber?—I would not have you
Thus negligent in other matters.—Come,
Cheer up, son! you shall wed her.
Æsch.How!
Micio.Cheer up,
I say!
Æsch.Nay, prithee, do not mock me, father!
Micio.Mock you? I? wherefore?
Æsch.I don’t know; unless
That I so much desire it may be true,
I therefore fear it more.
Micio.—Away; go home;
And pray the Gods, that you may call your wife
Away!
Æsch.How’s that? my wife? what! now?
Micio.Now.
Æsch.Now?
Micio.Ev’n now, as soon as possible.
Æsch.May all
The Gods desert me, Sir, but I do love you,
More than my eyes!
Micio.Than her?
Æsch.As well.
Micio.That’s much.
Æsch.But where is that Milesian?
Micio.Gone:
Vanish’d: on board the ship.—But why d’ye loiter?
Æsch.Ah, Sir, you rather go, and pray the Gods;
For, being a much better man than I,
They will the sooner hear your pray’rs.
Micio.I’ll in,
To see the needful preparations made.
You, if you’re wise, do as I said.
Exit.
Æschinusalone.
How’s this?Is this to be a father? Or is thisTo be a son?—Were he my friend or brother,Could he be more complacent to my wish?Should I not love him? bear him in my bosom!Ah! his great kindness has so wrought upon me,That it shall be the study of my lifeTo shun all follies, lest they give him pain.But wherefore do I loiter here, and thusRetard my marriage by my own delay?—But I’ll in straight, that I may not retardMy marriage by my own delay.Exit.
How’s this?
Is this to be a father? Or is this
To be a son?—Were he my friend or brother,
Could he be more complacent to my wish?
Should I not love him? bear him in my bosom!
Ah! his great kindness has so wrought upon me,
That it shall be the study of my life
To shun all follies, lest they give him pain.
But wherefore do I loiter here, and thusRetard my marriage by my own delay?
But wherefore do I loiter here, and thus
Retard my marriage by my own delay?
—But I’ll in straight, that I may not retard
My marriage by my own delay.
Exit.
Demeaalone.
I’ve walk’d, and walk’d, till I’m quite tir’d with walking.—Almighty Jove confound you, Syrus, I say;I’m tir’dWith walking.—Now great Jove confound you, Syrus;You and your blind directions! I have crawl’dAll the town over: to the gate; the pond;Where not? No sign of any shop was there,Nor any person who had seen my brother.—Now I’ll in, therefore, and set up my restIn his own house, till he comes home again. (Going.
I’ve walk’d, and walk’d, till I’m quite tir’d with walking.—Almighty Jove confound you, Syrus, I say;
I’ve walk’d, and walk’d, till I’m quite tir’d with walking.
—Almighty Jove confound you, Syrus, I say;
I’m tir’d
With walking.—Now great Jove confound you, Syrus;
You and your blind directions! I have crawl’d
All the town over: to the gate; the pond;
Where not? No sign of any shop was there,
Nor any person who had seen my brother.
—Now I’ll in, therefore, and set up my rest
In his own house, till he comes home again. (Going.
EnterMicio.