Dramatis Personae 
 
 DEMAENETUS, an aged Athenian. 
 ARGYRIPPUS, his son, in love with Philenium. 
 
 LIBANUS, Servants of Demaenetus. 
 LEONIDA, 
 
 THE ASS-DEALER 
 DIABOLUS, an Athenian Captain, the rival of Argyripps. 
 A PARASITE, a dependant of Diabolus. 
 A BOY. 
 ARTEMONA, wife of Demaeenetus. 
 CLEAERETA, a procuress. 
 PHILENIUM, daughter of Cleaereta.

Athens , before the house of CLEAERETA; the house of DEMAENETUS is a little way down another street, and in view of the audience.)

THE SUBJECT

 ARGYRIPPUS, the son of Demaenetus, is violently in love with Philenium, a young woman, who is living with her mother, Cleaereta, a procuress. The latter has made an agreement with a Captain, of the name of Diabolus, to transfer Philenium to him for twenty minae, on condition, however, that if Argyrippus shall first pay that sum, he shall have her. Argyrippus, having exhausted all his own resources, applies to his father, Demaenetus, an over-indulgent and immoral old man, and requests him to furnish him with twenty minae. Demaenetus is married to Artemona, a rich woman, and is totally dependant on the will of herself and her favourite slave, the chamberlain Saurea. Being destitute of money, Demaenetus orders his servant, Libanus, by some means or other to cheat his mistress or the chamberlain out of that sum. Just then an ass-dealer arrives, to pay to Saurea twenty minae, the price of some asses which he has previously purchased. Libanus then arranges with his fellow-servant, Leonida, that the latter shall personate Saurea, and so receive the money from the ass-dealer. This is done, and the money is paid to Leonida, in the presence of Demaenetus, who assures the dealer that Leonida really is the person to whom the money is payable. This sum is then given to Argyrippus, but with the disgraceful stipulation that for one day his father shall enjoy the company of Philenium. This he submits to, and the three sit down to a banquet. The Captain discovers this, and sends his Parasite to inform Artemona of her husband’s conduct. She accordingly accompanies the Parasite, and discovers her husband in the company of his son and the young woman; after soundly rating him, she leads him off; while Argyrippus remains in possession of Philenium.

THE ACROSTIC ARGUMENT. 
 
 THE ASS-DEALER son in love ( Amanti ), the old man, who lives under ( Sub ) his wife’s control, wishes to help him with money; therefore ( Itaque ), some money that has been brought in payment for the asses for Saurea he orders to be paid ( Nulerari ) to his servant Leonida. This is carried to ( Ad ) his mistress, and the son yields her favours to his father. His rival ( Rivinus ) is furious an account of the woman thus taken from him: he ( Is ) tells all the matter, through the Parasite, to the wife. The wife rushes ( Adcurrit ) to the place, and drags her husband from the den.

Attend now, Spectators, if you please, forthwith to this, and may this matter turn out fortunately for me and for yourselves, and for this company, and for our employers , and for our managers . Now, crier, do you at once make all the people give attentive ear.

Come, be seated now, only be careful that ’tis not for nought. Now I will tell you why I have come forward here, and what my intention is, that you may know the name of this play. For, so far as relates to the plot, it really is a short one. Now I will tell you what I said I was wishful to inform you upon.

The name of this play in Greek is Onagos — Demophilus composed it—Marcus Plautus turned it into Latin. He wishes it to be called Asinaria if by your leaves it may be so. In this play there is both pleasantry and fun. ’Tis a droll story; kindly lend me your attention;

may Mars, too, as, full oft at other times he has done, so give you now his aid.

As you desire your own only son to survive your own existence, prosperous, and living on; so by your lengthened years, and by that wife of yours of whom you stand in awe,

do I conjure you, that if this day you have said anything that’s false against myself, your wife may then survive your own existence, and that, she living, you, still alive, may come to utter destruction .

By the Gods above as to what you seek to know, I see that I must, perforce, speak out, whatever you question me upon, being thus conjured;

so determinedly have you accosted me, that I really do not dare otherwise than to disclose everything to you making all these enquiries. Say then at once what it is that you desire so much to know; as I myself shall know, so will I let you know.

Troth now, prithee answer me seriously what I ask you;

take care that you tell me no falsehood.

Why, then, don’t you ask?

Will you, then, be sending me there, where stone grinds stone ?

What place is that? Or where in the world is that place?

Where worthless men are weeping, who breakfast upon pearled barley .

What that place is, or where it is, I cannot understand, where worthless men are weeping, who breakfast upon pearled barley.

Why, in the islands of club-land and rattle- chains ,

where dead oxen attack living men.

I’ faith, I now understand, Libanus, what place it is; that perhaps you mean, where the pearled barley is prepared.

O dear: I’m not speaking of that, i’ faith, nor do I wish to speak of it. Troth now, prithee, do spit out the words that you have spoken.

Be it so; you shall be indulged.

Come, come—hawk away.

What, still more?

Troth now; prithee, do go on—still more.

What—from the very bottom of my throat?

Even more still.

Why, how long?

I want you, even to the death—

Take you care of a woful mishap, if you please.

Of your wife, I mean, not of yourself.

For that speech, I give you leave to be free from apprehension.

May the Gods grant you whatever you desire.

In return, give me your attention. Why should I ask this of you? Or why should I threaten you, because you have not made me acquainted with it? Or why, in fine, should I censure my son

as other fathers do?

What new affair is this? (Aside.) I wonder much what it is, and I’m in dread what the upshot of it may be.

In fact, I’m now aware that my son’s in love with that Courtesan Philenium, that lives close by. Is not this as I say, Libanus?

You are upon the right track; such is the fact. But a dreadful malady has overtaken him.

What is the malady?

Why, that his presents don’t equal his promises.

Are you, then, one who assists my son in his amours?

I really am, and our Leonida is another.

I’ faith, you do kindly, and you gain thanks from me. But this wife of mine, Libanus, don’t you know what sort of a person she is?

You are the first to experience it, but we give a guess beforehand.

I confess that she is troublesome and not to be pleased.

You say that later than I believed you in it.

All parents, Libanus, who listen to me, will show indulgence to their children,

inasmuch as they will find their sons more kindly disposed and more affectionate; and that do I desire to do myself. I wish to be loved by mine; I wish myself to be like my father, who, for my sake, himself in the disguise of a ship-master, carried off from a procurer a female with whom I was in love;

nor was he ashamed, at that time of life, to devise stratagems, and to purchase with good turns me, his son, for himself. These ways of my father have I resolved to imitate. For to-day my son Argyrippus has entreated me

to give him a supply of money for his amours; and I very much wish in that to oblige my son. I wish to forward his amours; I wish him to be fond of myself, his father. Although his mother keeps him strictly, and with a tight rein, as fathers have been in the habit of doing, all that I dismiss.

Especially as he has deemed me deserving, for him to entrust it to ire, I ought to pay all due regard to his feelings. Inasmuch as he has applied to me, as it is right that a respectful son should do, I wish him to have some money for him to give to his mistress

You are desiring that which I find you are do siring to no purpose.

Your wife brought her servant Saurea with her on her marriage , who has more in his control than you have.

I received money with her, and for the portion I sold my authority. Now I’ll compress into a few words what I want of you; my son is now in need of twenty silver minae:

do you manage that it may be forthwith found for him.

From what place in the world?

Cheat me of them.

You are talking downright nonsense. You are bidding me take the clothes from off a naked man. I, cheat you?—come now, fly you without wings, please. What, am I to cheat you who have nothing in your power for your own self?

Unless you have first cheated your wife out of something.

Impose upon or rob myself in any way you can, my wife in any way, my servant Saurea in any way. I promise you that it shall not prove to your detriment, if you effect it to-day.

On the same principle you might bid me to fish in the air,

and to hunt with a javelin in the midst of the sea.

Take Leonida as your coadjutor ; devise some plan or other, think of some expedient: bring it about that my son this day gets some money to give his mistress.

What say you, Demaenetus

if the foe should intercept me, will you ransom me?

I will ransom you.

Then do you attend to something else, whatever you please.

I’m off to the Forum, unless you wish for anything.

Be off—why are you not walking ?

And do you hear, too—?

Well now.

If I want you for anything, where will you be?

Wherever it shall be agreable to my feelings. Really, there’s not a person that I shall stand in dread of from this time forward, for fear he might be able to do me an injury, since in your discourse you have disclosed to me all your sentiments. Why, your own self even I don’t stand much in awe of, if I carry this out. I’ll go where I intended, and there I’ll commune upon my plans.

Do you hear me? I shall be with Archibulus, the banker.

In the Forum, you mean?

There, if there shall be any occasion for me .

I’ll remember it.

Not any servant can there be more artful than this fellow, nor yet more crafty, nor one that it is more difficult for you to be on your guard against.

If you want anything well managed, entrust it to this same fellow; he’d rather he should die in wretchedness, than not have that quite completed which he has promised. For I know that this money is as surely forthcoming for my son, as that I look upon this same walking-stick.

But why am I delaying to go to the Forum where I had intended

Is’t thus it is,—me to be shut out of doors? Is this the reward that’s given to me who deserve so highly of you? To him who deserves well you are unkind, to him who deserves ill you are indulgent.

But to your own misfortune, for now from this spot will I go to the Triumvirs , and there I’ll take care your names shall be. I’ll punish capitally yourself and your daughter, you enticers, pests, and destruction of young men! For, compared with you, the sea is not the sea; you are a most dangerous sea.

For on the sea did I find it, here have I been cleaned out of my wealth. What I have given, and what kindnesses I have done, I find them all valueless for good, and thrown away. But from hence-forth, whatever harm I shall be able to do you, I will do it, and do it at your deserts. I’ faith, I’ll reduce you to the verge of poverty, that state from which you have risen.

By my troth, I’ll make you to know what you now are, and what you once were; what you were before I visited that daughter of yours, and, in my passion, bestowed upon her my affection; on coarse bread you were enjoying your life, in rags, and in want. And if these you had, especial thanks did you return to all the Divinities. Now, bad woman, you the same person, when ’tis better with you, don’t know me through whose means it is so.

From a wild beast, I’ll make you tame through hunger, only trust me for that . But I have no reason to blame your daughter herself; she does not deserve it in the least. She acts by your command; she obeys your bidding; you are her mother, you too her mistress. I’ll revenge myself on you; I’ll ruin you; as you are deserving, and as you merit at my hands. But look now, the hag, how she really doesn’t think me worthy

for her to come to and address and deprecate my resentment. But, see, the enticer’s coming out at last, I think. Here. before the door, I’ll address her in my own fashion, as I please, since I’m not allowed to do so within.

If any purchaser should come, he could not carry him away from me each single word of those for gold Philippean pieces.

What you say wrongfully against us is good gold and silver. Your heart is locked up here with us, at the helm of Cupid. With oars and with sails make haste and fly as fast as you can; the further you betake yourself to sea, the more the tide will bring you back to harbour.

I faith, I’ll be depriving this custom-house officer of his dues.

From henceforth I’ll persist in treating you as you have deserved of me and mine, since you have treated me not as I deserve, in excluding me from your house.

I know that that is rather said with the tongue, than that it will happen in deed.

I alone have brought you from obscurity and from want; if I alone patronize you, you can never return sufficient thanks.

Do you still be the only one to patronize me, if you alone will always give me what I ask. Do you always keep what has been promised you, on this condition, that you surpass others in your presents.

What limit is there to be to giving? For really you can never be satisfied; the moment that you’ve received something, not very long after, you are devising something for you to be asking for.

What limit is there to be to your enjoying yourself, and to your indulging your amour? Can you never be satisfied?

The moment that you have sent her home, that instant, you are directly asking me to send her back to you.

In fact, I have given whatever you have demanded of me.

And I have sent the damsel to you. A requital has been given, like for like; a return for the money.

You treat me badly.

Why do you blame me if I do my duty? For nowhere is it either feigned in story or represented in pictures or written in poems,

where a procuress, who wishes to thrive, treats any lover well.

Still, ’twere right for you to show favour to me at least, that I might last the longer for you.

Don’t you know, the woman that shows favour to a lover, that same woman shows little favour to herself? Just like a fish, so is a lover to a procuress; he’s good for nothing if he isn’t fresh. Then it has juice, then it has sweetness; in any fashion you like you may season it,

either stewed or roasted; ill any way you will, you may turn it. So the lover; he’s ready to give, he longs for something to be asked of him, for there it’s taken from a full stock, nor does he know what he’s giving, or what mischief he’s doing. Of this matter does the new lover think; he wishes himself to please his mistress, he wishes to please me, he wishes to please her lady’s maid , he wishes to please the men-servants, he wishes to please the maid-servants as well, and even my dog

does he caress, that when it sees him, it may be delighted. I tell the truth; it shows cleverness for every person to be fair-dealing for his own advantage.

I’ve thoroughly learned that this is true, to my own great misfortune.

I’ faith, if you now had anything to give, you’d be uttering different remarks; now, since you’ve got nothing, you expect to be having her by means of harsh language.

’Tis not my way.

Nor yet mine, indeed, i’ faith, to be sending her to you for nothing; but this shall be done out of regard for your youthful age and your own sake, since you have rather been the cause of profit to us than of reputation to yourself. If two talents of silver are paid me down, reckoned in my hand, this night will I grant you for nothing, as a present, by reason of my respect for you.

What if I haven’t it?

I’ll believe that you haven’t it—still, she shall go to another.

Where is that which I have given you already?

Spent; for if it was remaining to me, the damsel should be sent to you, and I should never ask for anything. Daylight, water, the sun, the moon, the night, these things I purchase not with money; the rest, whatever we wish to enjoy, we purchase on Grecian trust .

When we ask bread of the baker, wine from the wineshop—if they receive the money, they give their wares; the same principle do I go upon. My hands always have eyes in them; they believe what they see. There’s an old saying, trusting is good for nought ; you know whose it is—I say no more.

Now I’m clean stripped, you tell me another tale;

a very different one, I say, you give me now from formerly, when I was making presents; a different one from formerly, when with kindness and good words you used to entice me to your house. Then did your house even smile upon me, when I used to come to you. You used to say that I alone of all loved you and her. When I had given anything, just like the young ones of a pigeon were you both upon my lips;

and all your likings were according to my own liking. You always kept close to me; whatever I requested, whatever I wished, you used to do; what I didn’t wish and forbade, that, with carefulness, you used to avoid, nor did you first venture to attempt to do it. Now, you jades, you don’t much care either what I do wish or what I don’t wish.

Don’t you know? This calling of ours is very like that of the fowler. The fowler, when he has prepared the spot, sprinkles the food about. The birds are accustomed to the spot. ’Tis necessary for him to make an outlay, who seeks for gain. They eat often; if they are caught once, they reimburse the fowler.

So in like manner here with us. Our house is the spot, I am the fowler, the courtesan is the food, the couch is the decoy, the lovers the birds. By kindly welcoming them, by addressing them courteously, by dallying, and by chattering over the wine, and amusing conversation, they are won. If one of them has touched her bosom, that is not without advantage to the fowler. If he has taken a kiss, him you may take without a net. That you should be forgetful of these things, you who have been schooled so long!

That’s your own fault, in turning away from you a scholar half instructed.

Come back again without hesitation, if you’ve got the pay; for the present, be off.

Stay, stay; don’t you hear me? Say what you think it fair that I should give you for her, that for this year she may be with no one else.

What, you? Twenty minae. And on this condition: if any other person shall bring them first to me, to you—good-bye.

But I— There’s still something that I wish to say to you before you go.

Say what you please.

I’m not entirely ruined yet; there’s still something more left for me to come to ruin. I have wherewithal to give you what you ask; but I’ll give it you on my own terms,

that you may be enabled to understand that throughout all this year she is to be at my service, and that, in the meantime, she is to admit no other man whatever to her, besides myself.

Why, if you choose, the male-servants that are at home, I’ll make eunuchs of. In fine, take you care and bring articles of agreement that we will be as you wish. Impose conditions upon us as you wish, and as you shall choose.

Do you only bring the money with you, I’ll readily put up with the rest. The doors of procurers are very like those of a custom-house officer; if you bring anything, then they are opened; if there is nothing for you to give, then the doors are not opened.

I’m undone, if I don’t procure these twenty minae. And really, unless I make away with this much money, I must come to destruction.

Now I’ll go to the Forum, and make trial with my resources, with all my endeavours. I’ll beg, I’ll earnestly entreat each friend as I see him; both good and bad am I determined to apply to, and make trial of. But if I can’t borrow it, I’ll take it up at interest, I’m resolved.

Upon my faith, Libanus, it really were better for you now to be waking,

and to be devising some plan for procuring the money. A long time has now elapsed, since you parted with your master and went to the Forum. For that end that you might devise some plan for procuring the money, there till this time of day have you been sleeping at your ease. Why don’t you away with all slothfulness from yourself, and remove all sluggishness,

and betake yourself again to your former dexterous ingenuity. Preserve your master; take you care, too, how you do the same that other servants are wont, who employ a clever ingenuity in cheating their master? Whence shall I get it? Whom shall I diddle out of it? Whither shall I steer this fly-boat? ’Tis settled, ’tis confirmed by auspices; on each side do the birds give good omens.

The woodpecker and the crow are on my right, the raven, as well, upon my left. They are persuading me to it: i’ faith, I’m resolved to follow your advice. (Starts and listens.) But what means this, that the woodpecker is tapping the elm-tree? That’s not for nothing. Troth, for certain, so far as I can gather omens from augury, the rods are in readiness for my own back, or for Saurea the chamberlain.

But what means this that Leonida is running this way out of breath? I fear that this bodes ill for my trumped-up schemes

Where now shall I find Libanus, or my master’s son, that I may make them more mirthful than is Mirth herself ? Great booty and a triumph do I bring them on my arrival.

Inasmuch as together with me they drink, together with me they are wont to wench, why, this booty that I’ve got, together with them will I share it.

This fellow has been robbing a house, if he has been acting after his usual manner. Woe to the person that has so carelessly kept the door!

I could be ready to be a slave for an age, if I could only meet with Libanus.

I’ faith, with my assistance, indeed, you shall never be free a bit the sooner.

I’d give two hundred teeming lashes on my back as well.

He’s giving away all his substance, for he carries his treasures on his back .

But if time should intervene upon this opportunity, never, upon my faith, will he hereafter obtain it again, even with white horses .

He’ll be deserting his master in the siege; he’ll be increasing the courage of the foe. But if with me he is desirous to seize hold upon this opportunity which has presented itself, very great bounties brimful of joyousness, will he, together with myself, be producing for his masters, both for the son and the father. So that, for life, they will be indebted to us both,

bound by our services.

He’s talking of persons being bound , I don’t know who. I don’t like it; I fear for us in common, lest he may have been cheating in some cheatery.

I’m utterly undone, unless I find Libanus at once, wherever in the world he is.

This fellow’s looking out for an accomplice, to unite with himself in a bad design. I don’t like it: ’tis a portentous sign that instant, when a person trembles that sweats .

But why, as I hasten, do I loiter here with my feet, and make myself so bounteous with my tongue? Why don’t I bid it be quiet, that in its talkativeness is wearing out the day?

Upon my faith, an unfortunate man, to check his patroness; for if he has done anything roguishly, his tongue perjures itself in his behalf.

I’ll make haste, lest I should be providing a safe keeping for my spoil too late.

What spoil is this? I’ll go meet him, and enquire what it is. (He accosts him.) I wish you health in as loud a voice as my strength admits of.

Exerciser of the whip, health to you.

Keeper of the gaol, how do you do?

Ha! colonizer of the chains.

Ha! delight of the scourges.

When naked, how many pounds do you say you are in weight?

Upon my faith, I don’t know.

I know that you don’t know; but, i’ faith, I who have weighed you do know. Tied up naked, you were a hundred pounds in weight, when you were hanging with your feet downwards.

On what evidence is that?

I’ll tell you on what evidence, and in what way. When you are tied up with a full hundred pounds to your feet , when the manacles are fastened to your hands, and tied to the beam,

you are weighing neither more nor less, than as being a worthless and good-for-nothing fellow.

Woe be to you!

That, Servitude bequeaths to you by her will.

I wish this skirmishing of words to be cut short. What matter is this?

Am I sure in trusting you?

You may, without hesitation.

If you wish to assist our master’s son in his amour,

there is so much of a good opportunity on a sudden, but still mingled with evil—all the hangman’s days will be rendered famous by ourselves. Libanus, now have we occasion to find some boldness and inventiveness. An exploit so great have I thought of just now, that we two may be pronounced the most deserving of all for torture to befall us.

’Twas on that account I was wondering why my shoulder-blades were aching just now, which were beginning to prognosticate that there was some danger for them at home. Whatever it is, speak out.

’Tis great booty with great risk.

If indeed all persons by compact were to collect all the tortures, I have, I fancy, a back at home, so that I need not seek it out of doors.

If you maintain such firmness of resolve, then we are all right.

Why, if the matter were to be atoned for by my back, I could wish to seize the public money: I’ll persist in my denial, and I’ll endure all; in fine, I’ll forswear myself.

Ah! that’s true valour, when occasion is, for one to endure misfortune with boldness. He that endures misfortune with boldness, that man afterwards enjoys good fortune.

Why don’t you tell the matter at once? I’m longing to tempt the scourge.

Ask deliberately each particular then, that I may rest me. Don’t you see that I’m still out of breath with running?

Well, well, I’ll wait your pleasure, even, in fact, till you die.

Where’s our master, pray?

The old one is at the Forum, the young one is here in-doors.

That’s enough for me then.

Is it then that you’ve become a rich man?

Leave off your raillery.

I’ll have done; for my ears are in expectation of what you are bringing me.

Give your attention, that equally with myself you may learn this.

I’m silent, then.

You oblige me. Don’t you remember that our chamberlain sold some Arcadian asses to a dealer of Pella ?

I remember it; after that, what then?

Well, he has sent some money here then to be paid to Saurea, for the asses; a young man has just now come who has brought this money.

Where is this person?

You think he ought to be devoured this instant, if you could see him.

Aye, to be sure. But, however, you are speaking, I suppose, of those asses,

aged and lame, whose hoofs were quite worn away to their very thighs?

Those same ones, that carried the elm twigs hither from the country, for your use.

I understand you; and the same ones carried you from here, bound, into the country .

You say what’s quite correct. But as I was sitting in the barber’s shop, he began to make enquiries of me, whether I knew a certain Demaenetus, the son of Strato.

At once I said that I knew him, and that I was his servant; and I pointed out our house.

After that, what then?

He said that he was bringing the money for the asses to the chamberlain Saurea, twenty minae in amount; but that he himself didn’t know the individual, who he was, but that he knew Demaenetus quite well.

Since he spoke thus to this effect—

What then?

Listen then, and you’ll know. At once I made myself courteous, and a person of consequence. I said that I was the chamberlain. Thus, in these terms did he answer me: Upon my faith, I don’t know Saurea, nor yet of what appearance he is. It isn’t fair for you to blame me; but if you like, bring here Demaenetus, your master, whom I do know; I’ll not prevent you taking the money then.

I said that I would bring him, and that I should be at home immediately. He’s about to go to the baths , from there he’ll afterwards come here. What plan do you think, now, I ought to adopt? Tell me.

Why, I’m thinking of this, how to get between the money, and the stranger, and Saurea.

At present this matter is rough-hewn; but if this stranger brings here the money first, then are we both at once shut out from it. But the old man to-day took me apart at a distance from the house, and threatened me and yourself that we should be tasters of the elm twigs, if Argyrippus didn’t this very day get twenty mine of silver.

He commanded that we should cheat either the chamberlain or his own wife, and said that he would give the aid he promised. Now, do you go to the Forum to our master, and tell him this, how we are going to manage; that you, from Leonida, are going to be the chamberlain Saurea, until the dealer has brought the money for the asses.

I’ll do as you request me.

In the meantime, I’ll amuse him here, if by chance he should come first.

But what say you—?

What do you want?

If I give you a blow on the cheek with my fist, by-and-by, while I’m personating Saurea , don’t you be offended.

I’ faith, but you’ll have a care not to be touching me, if you are wise; you’ll surely have changed your name to day with a bad omen .

Prithee, do endure it with resolution.

Do you endure the cuff that I, too, shall be giving you in return.

I speak as it’s in the habit of being done.

I’ faith, and I speak, too, of how I’m likely to act.

Don’t refuse me.

Why I promise, I tell you, to give you a like return, just as you deserve.

I’m off; I know that you’ll put up with it by-and-by. But who’s this? ’Tis he—’tis the very man himself. I’ll return here just now; in the meantime do you detain him here;

I want to inform the old gentleman.

Well, do your duty, then, and fly.

According as it was pointed out to me, this must be the house where Demaenetus is said to live. (To the BOY.) Go, boy, and knock, and call Saurea the chamberlain out here, if he’s in-doors.

Who’s breaking in our door in this fashion? Enough there, I say, if you hear me at all.

No one has touched it as yet: are you out of your senses?

Why I thought that you had touched it, because you were steering your course in that direction. I don’t want the door, my fellow-slave , to be thumped by you; I really am attached to our house.

I’ faith, there’s no fear of the hinges being broken off the doors, if you answer all who make enquiries in this fashion.

This door is of this habit; it cries out at once for tho porter, if it sees any door-kicker at a distance coming towards it. But what are you come for? What are you enquiring about?

I wanted Demaenetus.

If he were at home, I would tell you so.

Well, his chamberlain then?

No more is ne at home.

Where is he?

He said he was going to the barber’s.

Hasn’t he returned, since he went there?

I’ faith, he hasn’t. What did you want?

He was to have received twenty mine of silver, if he had been in.

What was it for?

He sold some asses at market to a dealer from Pella .

I understand; you are bringing it now. I think that he’ll be here just now.

Of what appearance is your chamberlain Saurea? If it’s he, I shall be able to know at once.

Lantern-jawed, with reddish hair, a little pot-bellied, with glaring eyes, middling stature, sour aspect.

A painter couldn’t have more correctly described his appearance— And, i’ faith, I see the very man; he’s coming this way, wagging his head.

Whoever gets in his way when he’s in a passion, he’ll be for striking him.

By my faith, if, indeed, he were coming filled with the threats and the courage of the grandson ofAeacus , if he were to touch me in his wrath, in his wrath he would be getting a thrashing.

What’s this to do here? Not a person bares a bit about my orders! How did I order Libanus to come to the barber’s shop, and he didn’t come at all. I’ faith, for sure he hasn’t consulted well for his back and his legs.

This is a very overbearing fellow.

Woe to me this day!

I bid welcome to Libanus, the freed-man! Are you set at liberty now?

I do implore you.

In good sooth, to your great misfortune surely have you fallen in my way. Why didn’t you come to the barber’s shop, as I ordered you?

This person detained me.

I’ faith, if in fact you were now to say that supreme Jove had detained you,

and he were present to sue for you, you shouldn’t escape the evil consequences. Whip-knave, did you disobey my orders?

Stranger, I’m done for.

Prithee, Saurea, for my sake, don’t beat him.

I wish, now, I had a whip in my hand—

Prithee, do be appeased.

—With which to lash your sides, which have grown callous with blows.

Stand off this way; let me be the death of this fellow who is continually inflaming me with anger—a thief to whom I can never once enjoin a single thing, but that I must command the same things a hundred times, and din them in his ears . For that reason, now, by my troth, what with bawling and passion, I cannot endure the labour. Have you, you rascal, (pointing) ordered this dirt to be removed hence from the door?

Have you ordered the labours of the spiders to be swept down from the pillars? Have you ordered those bosses on our door to be brought to brightness? It’s of no use; I must walk about with a stick, as though I were a lame man. Because only for these single three days I have been giving my constant attendance at the Forum, in order to find some one who requires money upon interest, here,

in the meantime, are you sleeping at home, and my master is living in a pigstye, not in a house. (He strikes LIBANUS.) There now, take you that.

Prithee, stranger, do take my part.

Saurea, for my sake, I entreat you, do let him go.

Hark you! has any one paid for the carriage of that olive oil?

He has paid.

To whom was it given?

To Stichus himself, your deputy.

Tut! you’re trying to mollify me . I know that he is my deputy,

and that there isn’t a servant in the house who is more valuable to his master than he is. But the wines that I sold yesterday to Exaerambus, the wine merchant, has he yet paid Stichus for them?

I think he has, in full; for I saw Exaerambus himself bringing hither his banker.

On such terms would I always deal ; before, what I’ve trusted, I’ve hardly been paid within a year after.

Now he’s quite in a hurry; even of his own accord he brings him to the house, and writes a transfer of the money . Has Dromo paid down the wages agreed upon?

Less than half, I think.

What about the remainder?

He said that he would pay it directly it was paid to him; for it was retained until he had finished the work that was agreed on to be done by him.

The cups that I lent to Philodamus, has he brought them back?

Not yet.

What, not yet? If you wish to make a present , lend to a person that is a friend—

I’ faith, I’m quite undone; he’ll be just now driving me away with his ill-temper.

Hallo! you, enough now. Do you hear what he’s saying?

I hear, and I’ll have done.

At last, I think, he has done: now it’s best to accost him before he commences again to prate. (To LEONIDA.) How soon, sir, will you give me your attention?

Oh, by all means—have you been here any time?

Troth, I didn’t observe you; pray, don’t lay it to my charge: anger has so blinded my eyesight.

’Tisn’t to be wondered at. But if he’s at home, I was wanting Demaenetus.

Libanus says that he isn’t within. But still, if you like to pay that money over to me, I’ll give you an acquittance that the account is discharged as to that item.

This way rather, for me to pay you in the presence of your master, Demaenetus.

My master knows him, and he my master.

In his master’s presence, I’ll pay him.

At my peril, so you only pay him, I’ll engage the matter’s safe. For if our old gentleman were to know that confidence wasn’t placed in him, to whom he himself always entrusts the management of all matters, he would be angry.

I don’t much care; don’t let him not pay it, if he don’t like; so let him stand here.

Give it him, I say. Oh dear, I’m sadly afraid that he’ll be thinking that I’ve persuaded you not to trust him; prithee, do give it and don’t be afraid. Upon my word, it will be safe.

I think it will be—so long, indeed, as I myself keep it in my hand. I’m a stranger; I don’t know Saurea.

Well, know him now then.

It may be he, it may not be he; i’ faith, I know not; if it’s he, why then it must be he. I know for sure that I shall give this up to no person that I don’t know.

Troth now, may all the Gods confound the fellow. (Aloud to LIBANUS.) Take care you don’t entreat him with a word. He’s arrogant, because he’s fingering my twenty minae. No one will take it. (To the ASS-DEALER.) Take yourself off home, be off from here, and don’t be troublesome.

You are in too angry mood: it isn’t right for a person who is a slave to give himself airs.

By my faith, to your own great misfortune now are you talking uncivilly to him.

Dirty, worthless fellow, don’t you see he’s angry?

Be off then.

Scoundrelly fellow. (Aside to him.) Prithee, do give him the money lest he should abuse you.

On my word, you are seeking evil for yourselves.

By the powers, your legs shall be broken ,

if you don’t proclaim this shameless fellow.

Troth, I’m undone. Be off, you shameless fellow.

You rascal.

Won’t you venture to assist me, you rascal?

Do you persist in soliciting the scamp?

How’s this? (To LEONIDA.) Do you, rascal, who are a slave, speak abusively to a free man?

Give him a beating.

By my faith, that surely shall befall yourself to get a beating as soon as ever I shall see Demaenetus this day.

I summon you to judgments .

I shan’t go.

You won’t go? Remember—

I do remember.

I’ faith, I’ll have satisfaction out of your back.

Woe unto you? What, villain—satisfaction to be given by us to you indeed?

Aye, and even this very day satisfaction shall be given me for your abusive language.

How now, whip-knave? How say you, hang-dog? Do you suppose that we shall run away from our master? Go this instant then to our master, where you were citing us just now, and where you were wishing to go.

What, now at last? Still, you shall never get a coin of money away from me, unless Demaenetus shall order me to give it.

Do so. Come, move on then. Are you to offer insults to another person, and are they not to be repeated to yourself?

I’m a man as much as you are.

No doubt such is the fact.

Follow me this way, then. With your good leave I would now say this: not a person has ever accused me by reason of my deserving it, nor is there in Athens one other individual, this day, whom they would think they could as safely trust.

Perhaps so: but still, you shall never this day persuade me to entrust to you, whom I don’t know, this money.

A man to a man is a wolf , not a man, when the other doesn’t know of what character he is.

Now at last you are appeasing me : I was sure that this day you would give satisfaction to this poor head of mine; although I’m in mean garb, still, I’m well to do, nor can an estimate of my means be formed from it.

Perhaps so.

Still more then I tell you: Periphanes, a merchant of Rhodes , a rich man,

in the absence of my master, himself alone paid over to me, in private, a talent of silver, and trusted me, nor was he deceived in it.

Perhaps so.

And you, too, yourself, as well, if you had enquired about me of other people, would, i’ faith, I’m quite sure, have entrusted to me what you now have with you.

I don’t deny it.

And am I unable to render you obedient to my injunctions?

Or are you so disposed as to be free from the control of your mother?

How could I propitiate Piety , if I could desire to please you, being endowed with these manners, after the fashion, mother, that you enjoin upon me?

Is it consistent with propriety for you to oppose my precepts?

How so?

Is this worshipping Piety, to lessen the authority of a mother?

Those who act right I blame not, nor do I love those who do wrong.

You are a very prating, lovesick girl.

Mother, that is my living . His tongue woos me, his person seeks me, his passion pleads, opportunity prompts.

I was purposing to convince you. Are you come as my accuser?

By my troth, I neither do accuse you, nor do I think it right I should do so;

but I do complain of my lot, when I am separated from him whom I love.

Will then one bit of the whole day’s talk be left for myself?

Both my share of the speaking and your own do I give up to you. Do you yourself keep the signal both for speaking and for being silent.

But, i’ faith, if I only put up my oars in the boat-house while I’m resting, all the welfare of the household is at a standstill for you.

How say you, the out and out most insolent woman that ever I saw? How often have I forbidden you to speak to Argyrippus, the son of Demaenetus, or to touch him, or to hold discourse with him, or to look at him? What has he ever given? What has he ordered to be brought to our house? Or do you fancy to yourself

that smooth words are gold?—that clever speeches are as good as presents? Of your own accord you fell in love with him; of your own accord you go after him; of your own accord you request him to be sent for to you. Those who are givers, those same you laugh at; those who are cheating us, you are dying for. If any one promises you that he’ll make you rich when his mother dies, ought you to be waiting for that?

I’ faith, a great risk impends over ourselves and the household, that we may die of hunger while we are awaiting her death. Now therefore, unless he brings me here twenty minae of silver, upon my word, though profuse of his tears, he shall certainly be turned from here out of doors. This day’s the end of excuses for poverty at my house.

If, my mother, you were to order me to go without victuals, I would submit.

I don’t forbid you to love those who give that for the sake of which they ought to be loved.

What, mother, if this inclination of mine is fixed? What am I to do? Tell me.

Oh dear—look at my head , if, indeed, you consider your own interest.

Even the shepherd, mother, that feeds the sheep of another, has a certain one of his own to be the consoler of his hopes. For the sake of my affection, do allow me to love Argyrippus only, who is my choice.

Go in-doors, for, upon my word, there is really nothing more impudent than yourself.

Mother, you have given birth to a daughter obedient to your commands.

Great praise and thanks we give deservedly to perfidy, when relying upon our tricks, our stratagems, and our devices, upon our confidence in our shoulder-blades and the hardihood resulting from the elm-twigs so oft applied, against the whips, the searing-irons, the crosses, and the fetters,

the cords, the chains, the prisons, the stocks, the shackles, the collars, and taskmasters most cruel and well acquainted with our backs, who many a time before have imprinted scars upon our shoulder-blades; by conquering, now, these legions, troops and armies of thieves,

by our prowess, through our perjuries, O brave, have we gained the victory. This, through the valour of this comrade of mine, and through my own courtesy, has been brought about.

What man is there more firm than myself at enduring stripes?

By the powers, you who can extol your exploits now, as I can do exploits, which in peace and in warfare you have so — villanously performed;

verily, in troth, many in number may they be now recounted according to your deserts; where you have defrauded him that trusted you, where you have proved faithless to your master, where knowingly and wilfully you have on solemn oath been perjured, where you have bored through party walls, where you have been detected in theft, where you have full oft pleaded your cause, as you hung up, against eight

clever, hardened fellows , sturdy stripers.

Certainly I do admit, Leonida, that it is true as you say. But verily, in troth, your many misdeeds, too, may be recounted as well and truly; where wilfully you have proved faithless to the trusting, where you have been detected in theft and scourged in public,

where you have proved forsworn, where you have laid hands on sacred things, where to your masters you have full oft proved a loss, a trouble, and a disgrace, where you have stoutly denied that that was given to you which had been entrusted to you, where you have proved more faithful to your wench than to your friend, where through your hardihood you have frequently reduced to weariness eight

sturdy lictors, armed with pliant twigs of elm. (To the AUDIENCE.) Is the compliment ill repaid in the way that I’ve praised my comrade?

Just as befits both me and yourself, and our dispositions.

Now drop this, and answer me this that I ask.

Enquire of me what you please.

Have you got the twenty silver minae?

Guess —

Upon my word, the old gentleman Demaenetus, has been very obliging to us. How cleverly he pretended that I was Saurea. With the greatest difficulty did I withhold my laughter, when he rebuked the stranger, because in his absence he had been unwilling to put confidence in me; and with what readiness did he call me Saurea the chamberlain.

Stop a moment.

What’s the matter?

Isn’t this Philenium that’s coming from in-doors, and Argyrippus with her.

Keep silence, ’tis he; let’s listen quietly to them.

In tears, she holds him, weeping, by the lappet of his garment; what, I wonder, am I to say is the matter?

Let’s listen in silence.

Dear me, a thought, I’ faith, has just come into my mind; I very much wish I had a long stick here.

For what reason?

With which to beat these asses , if perchance they should begin to bray out here, from within the bag.

Why are you holding me back?

Because, as I love you, I cannot bear your departing.

Farewell.

I should fare somewhat better, if you were to remain here.

Blessings on you.

Do you wish for blessings on me, to whom you are bringing disease by your departure?

Your mother has bid me the last farewell ; she has requested me to go home.

A bitter death will she cause her daughter, if I must part from you.

Troth now, the man has been turned out of doors there.

Such is the fact.

Prithee, do let me go.

Whither are you going now? Why don’t you stay here?

This night, if you choose, I’ll stay.

Don’t you hear him? How profuse he is of his attentions by night. But now, in the daytime, he’s engaged; surely he’s a Solon

to write laws whereby the public may regulate itself. Psha! those who would be in readiness for themselves to pay obedience to his laws, would decidedly never do any good; they would be drinking night and day.

Troth now, for sure, he wouldn’t budge a foot from her if she would let him, who is now in such haste, and is threatening that he’s going away from her.

Now make an end of your talk, that I may catch his discourse.

Farewell!

Whither are you hastening?

Kindly fare you well! I shall see you in the other world . For indeed now, so soon as I can, I shall sever myself from life.

Prithee, why, while I do not deserve it, do you wish to consign me to death?

I—you? whom, if I were to hear that you were in want of life, at once would I

present you my own life, and from my own would add to yours.

Why, then, do you threaten that you will quit life? For what do you suppose that I shall do, if you do that which you are talking of? I’m determined to do everything exactly the same to myself that you do to yourself.

O! sweeter than honey are you to me.

And surely you are my life. Embrace me.

I do so with pleasure.

Would that thus we might be carried to the tomb.

O Libanus, how wretched is the man that loves.

Aye, but surely, faith, the man that’s hanging up is much more wretched.

I know that, who have had experience of it. Let’s go round them: let’s accost them, one on the one side, one on the other.

Health to you, master. But is this female, smoke, that you are embracing?

Why so?

Because your eyes are filled with tears; ’twas for that reason I asked.

One who would have been a protector to you, you have lost.

I’ faith, I surely haven’t lost one; for this reason, be cause I never had one.

Health to you, Philenium.

What you desire, the Gods will give you.

I could desire your favours, and a cask of wine, if wishes were to come to pass.

Whip-knave, beware how you speak a word.

Why, ’tis for you, not for myself, I wish it.

For that reason, then, say on what you please.

Troth, I’d like to give him a beating.

Who, pray, would allow you to do so, you frizzle- pated mountebank? Could you thrash me, you, who reckon as your daily food your own thrashings?

How far superior, Libanus, are your lots to my own,

who never will live this day until the evening.

For what reason, prithee?

Because I’m in love with her, and she’s in love with me, and nowhere have I anything to bestow upon her; for that reason has her mother expelled me with all my affection from her house. The twenty minae of silver have brought me to my end, which the young man, Diabolus, declared that he would give her this day,

in order that she mightn’t send her anywhere, for this whole year, except to himself. Don’t you see of what force are twenty minae of silver, or what they can effect? The man who parts with them is happy; I, who part not with them, am undone.

Has he already paid the money?

He hasn’t paid it.

Be of good courage; don’t be afraid.

Step this way, Libanus, I want you.

Certainly, if you want anything.

I entreat of you,

is it more pleasant in this same matter for you to discourse hugging one another?

Understand, master, that all things are not equally sweet to all persons. ’Tis pleasant for you lovers to converse, hugging one another; I care nothing for his hugging (pointing to LEONIDA) , and (pointing to PHILENIUM) she despises mine. Do you then yourself do that which you would be suggesting to us to do.

Indeed I will, and really with pleasure, i’ faith. (Placing his arm round PHILENIUM’S neck.) In the meantime, if it seems good to you, do you step aside there.

Should you like our master to be bantered a bit?

He really is deserving of it.

Should you like me, in his presence, to make Philenium embrace me?

I’ faith, I should like it.

Follow me this way.

Is there any escape at all? Have you conversed enough?

Listen, and give attention, and devour my words.

First of all, that we are your slaves, we don’t deny; but if twenty silver minae are forthcoming for you, by what name will you call us?

Freed-men.

And not patrons?

That in preference.

Here are twenty minae in this bag. These, if you like, I’ll give you.

May the Deities ever preserve you,

protector of your master, honor to the people, treasury of resources, preserver of my inner man , and commander of love; place it here, put down that bag, here on the spot, at once .

I don’t like you, who are my master, to carry this load.

Still, do you rid yourself of the trouble, and fasten that bag to myself.

I’ll carry it, porter-like; you, as befits my master, go, without any burden, before me.

How now?

Why’s this?

Why don’t you give up the bag here, for your master to feel its weight?

Bid her to whom I’m about to give it, to beg and entreat it of me. For that’s a dangerous spot where you bid me put it down at once.

Apple of my eye, my rose, my life, my delight,

Leonida, do give me the money, and don’t sever us lovers asunder.

Call me, then, your little sparrow, your chicken, your quail, your pet lamb: say that I’m your pet kid or your pet calf; take me by the ears, press your lips to my lips.

She, kiss you, you whip-scoundrel?

Really, how unbecoming it does seem!

But, by the powers, you shan’t get it this day, if my knees are not embraced.

Necessity compels to anything. (To LEONIDA.) Let them be embraced (kneels down and embraces his knees) : now give what I’m asking for.

Come, my Leonida, prithee do bring safety to your master thus in love. Redeem yourself from him by this service, and purchase him for yourself with this money.

You are very pretty and amiable; and if this were mine, you should never this day

ask me for it, but I would give it you: ’tis better for you to ask it of him (pointing to LIBANUS) , for ’twas he gave it me to keep for him. Approach him then prettily, my pretty one. (Delivers the bag to LIBANUS.) Take this, please, Libanus.

Scoundrel, are you still trifling with me?

I’ faith, I should never have done so, if you hadn’t embraced my knees so roughly. (Aside to LIBANUS.) Come, please, in your turn, do you at once have some sport with him, and give her an embrace.

Hold your tongue; trust me for that.

Why don’t we accost him, Philenium? (pointing to LIBANUS) —really, a very worthy fellow, upon my faith, and not like this thief (pointing to LEONIDA) .

We must walk up and down; now, in my turn, they’ll be entreating me.

By heaven, Libanus, I do entreat you, be pleased by your deeds to come to your master’s rescue; do give me those twenty minae: you see that thus in love I stand in need of them.

It shall be seen to; I wish it done; return here at nightfall. Now bid her, ever so little, to beg and entreat them of me.

Do you wish me to begin with caressing, or with kissing you?

Why, really, with them both.

And do you then, I do entreat you, prove the saving of us both.

O Libanus, my patron, do give me that; ’tis more becoming

for the freed-man , than for the patron, to be carrying a burden in the street.

My Libanus, golden apple of my eye, the gift and the very grace of love; there’s a dear, whatever you wish, I’ll do; prithee, do give us that money.

Call me, then, your little duck, dove, or your puppet; your swallow, jackdaw, little sparrow, your mannikin:

make of me the reptile that crawls, so that I may have a double tongue ; enfold me in your arms, and embrace my neck.

She, embrace you, villain?

Really, how undeserving I do seem. You shan’t for no purpose have uttered a speech so unseemly against me. By my troth, if indeed you expect to get this money, this day you shall carry myself on your shoulders.

What? I, carry you?

Otherwise, you shan’t get this money from me.

Heavens, I’m undone! Still, if indeed it is decorous for the master to carry the servant, mount.

In this way are proud people wont to be tamed. Stand still then, just as you were wont to do when formerly a boy . Do you understand what I say? (He prepares to get upon the shoulders of ARGYRIPPUS.) Aye—so—move on: I praise you much; not any horse is there more clever than yourself as a horse.

Get on, directly.

I’ll do so. (He gets on.) Hallo!—what’s the matter? How are you going? By my troth, I’ll deprive you of your barley then, if you don’t amble , lifting up your feet.

Prithee, Libanus, there’s enough now.

Never this day, by my troth, shall you get anything by entreaty. For now up hill with the spur will I push on my steed. After that, I’ll deliver you to the millers, that there you may be tortured as you run .

Stand still, that I may now at once get down for the hill, although you are but a bad one.

Well now—since you’ve both made fun of me just as you liked, are you going to give the money?

Why, yes, if, indeed, you erect to me a statue and an altar, and then sacrifice an ox to me here as though to a God; for I am the Divinity Salvation to you.

Nay, but, master, do you betake yourself away from him, and do you come to me.

And, what he has demanded for himself, will you erect a statue for me, and offer prayers to me?

But what Divinity am I to call you?

Fortune, and that the Propitious one .

You are better than he then.

Why, is there ever anything better for a man than Salvation?

Though I praise Fortune, still, not to speak in dispraise of the Divinity Salvation—

By the powers, but they are good, both of them.

I shall know it, when they have conferred anything that’s good.

Wish for that which you desire to befall you.

What if I do wish it?

It shall come to pass.

I wish for her to be devoted to me alone this whole year round.

You have obtained it.

Do you really say so?

I do say so for certain.

Come to me, in my turn, and make trial: wish ardently for that which you especially desire to happen to you; it shall be done.

What other thing could I ardently wish for rather than that of which I am in want?

Oblige me with twenty silver minae to give to her mother.

They shall be given: take care and be of good courage, your wishes shall be fulfilled.

Just as they are wont, Salvation and Fortune are deceiving mortals.

I this day have been the head in finding this money for you.

I have been the foot.

Why, neither head nor foot of your talking is visible;

I can understand neither what you mean, nor why you are trifling with me.

I think that now you’ve been teased enough; now let’s disclose the matter as it really stands. Give your attention, Argyrippus, if you please. Your father has ordered us to bring this money to you.

How very à propos and opportunely you have brought it.

Here, in this, there will be twenty good minae, obtained by bad means:

these, on certain conditions, he bade us give you.

Prithee, what are they?

That you would grant him her favours and an entertainment.

Bid him come, I beg. For him who deserves it right well, we’ll do what he wishes, him who has brought these scattered loves of ours to a happy result.

You’ll permit your father then, Argyrippus, to caress her?

She, by being restored to me, will easily cause me to permit it.

Prithee, Leonida, run, and beg my father to come here.

He has been in the house some time.

He hasn’t come this way, at all events.

He came round that way by the lane, through the garden, lest any one of his friends should see him coming here; he’s afraid that his wife may come to know of it. If your mother knew about the money, how it was obtained—

Well, well—

do use words of good omens ;

go in-doors quickly,

farewell.

And you two, love on.

Come now, show me this agreement that you’ve written out between myself and the procuress. Read over the conditions; for you are a quite unique composer in such matters.

I’ll make the procuress be terrified when she hears the conditions.

Troth now, prithee, proceed and read them over to me.

Are you attending?

I’m all attention.

Diabolus, the son of Glaucus, has made a present to Cleaereta, the procuress, of twenty silver minae, that Philenium may be with him night and day for this whole year.

Yes, and not with any other person.

Am I to add that?

Add it, and take care and write it plainly and distinctly.

And not admit any other man whatever, because either her friend or her patron, she may choose to call him—

Not any one!

Or because she may say that he is the lover of a female friend of hers. The door must be closed to all men except to yourself.

On the door she must write that she is engaged. Or, because she may affirm that the letter has been brought from abroad, there is not to be even any letter in the house, nor so much as a waxed tablet; and if there is any useless picture , let her sell it; if she does not part with it, within four days

from the time when she has received the money of you, let it be considered as your own; you to burn it if you like; so that she may have no wax, with which she may be able to make a letter. She is to invite no guest; you are to invite them. On no one of them is she to cast her eyes:

if she looks upon any other person, she must be blind forthwith . Then she is to drink cup by cup equally with yourself. She is to receive it from you; she is to hand it to you for you to drink. She is not to have a relish for less or for more than yourself.

That’s quite to my taste.

She is to remove all causes of suspicion from her,

nor is she to tread on any man’s foot with her foot; when she rises she is neither to step upon the next couch, nor when she gets down from the couch is she thence to extend her hand to any one; she is not to give to nor ask of any one a ring for her to look at; she is not to present dice to any man whatever except to yourself ;

when she throws them, she is not to say, ’You I call upon,’ she is to mention your name. She may call on any Goddess that she pleases as propitious to her, but on no God: if she should chance to be very full of devotion, she is to tell you, and you are to pray to him that he may be propitious. She is neither to nod at any man, wink, or make a sign.

In fine, if the lamp goes out, she is not to move a single joint of herself in the dark.

That’s very good; so, in fact, she must do: but expunge that about the chamber; for my part, I prefer that she should move. I don’t wish her to have an excuse, and to say that it is forbidden her by her vow.

I understand, you fear some quibble.

Just so.

Then as you bid me, I’ll strike it out.

And why not?

Hear the rest.

Say on, I’m listening.

And she is not to use any shuffling words, nor is she to know how to speak in any tongue but the Attic. If perchance she should begin to cough,

she is not to cough so as to expose her tongue to any one in coughing. But if she should pretend as though she had a running at the nose , even then she is not to do so; you yourself must wipe her lips rather than that she should open her mouth before another person. And her mother, the procuress, is not to come in in the middle of the wine,

nor is she to utter a word of abuse to any one; if she does so speak, let this be her fine, to go for twenty days without wine.

You have written it nicely; a clever agreement.

Then, if she bids her maid-servant carry chaplets, garlands, or unguents, to Venus or to Cupid,

your servant is to watch whether she gives them to Venus or to a man. If perchance she should say she wishes to keep herself in purity , let her account for as many nights as she has kept herself in purity. These are no trifles; for they are no funeral dirge .

The conditions please me entirely; follow me indoors.

I follow.

Follow this way. Am I to put up with this, or shall I hold my tongue? I would rather die than not discover this to his wife. And say you so, old man? With a mistress would you be acting the part of a youngster? Would you be excusing yourself to your wife, and calling yourself an aged man? Would you be taking the mistress from her lover? And would you be presenting the money

to the procuress, and be secretly pilfering it from your wife at home? You should hang me, rather than you should carry off these matters undiscovered. On my honor, I’ll really go this instant hence to her whom I’m sure that you’ll very soon be destroying, in order that you may be able to supply your extravagance, unless, indeed, she shall first prevent you.

I’m of opinion that thus you must act. ’Tis more becoming that I should disclose this matter, rather than yourself, lest she may think that you, excited by reason of love, rather than for her own sake, have acted thus.

Why, faith, you say what’s right. Do you then contrive to raise a storm and strife against him,

that he, together with his own son, is carousing with one mistress the livelong day, and that he’s secretly pilfering from her.

Don’t suggest to me. I’ll take care of that.

But I’ll wait for you at home.

Come then, father, let’s take our places, please.

As you bid me, my son, so it shall be.

Lads, spread the table.

Is it at all displeasing to you, son, if she takes her place by me?

Duty, father, keeps sorrow from my eyes; although I love her, still I can control my feelings, not to take it to heart because she takes her place by you.

It becomes a young man to be respectful, Argyrippus.

Troth, father, through proper regard for you, I can be so.

Come, then, let’s enjoy this banquet

with wine and pleasant discourse. I don’t wish to be feared, I prefer myself to be loved by you, my son.

In truth, I do them both, as is proper for a son.

I’d believe it, if I saw you were cheerful.

Why, do you think that I’m sorrowful?

Do I think so? You, whom I see as melancholy as if the day of trial had been named for you.

Don’t you say that.

Don’t you be so, then I’ll not say so.

Well then, look at me; I’m laughing.

I’d like that those who wish me ill would laugh thus.

I know, indeed, father, why you now suppose to yourself that I’m sad; it is because she is by you. And really, father, by my faith, to tell you the truth, that matter does hurt me; and not for this reason, that I don’t desire for you that which you wish,

but because I love her; another woman, indeed, I could easily endure to be by you.

But I have a fancy for this one.

Then you have what you desire; for myself, I wish for what I could desire.

Submit to it this one day, since I’ve given you the power to be with her for a year, and have procured for you the command of money in your amour.

Well, by doing that, you have laid me under an obligation to you.

Why then don’t you show yourself cheerful to me?

Prithee, do you say that my husband is carousing here, together with my son?—and that he has carried to his mistress twenty minae of silver?—and that, with the knowledge of my son, his father is perpetrating this wickedness?

Trust me in nothing henceforth, either divine or human,

Artemona, if you find me untruthful in this matter.

Wretched then am I, who have supposed that, beyond others, my husband was sober, decent, chaste, and especially fond of his wife.

But now, henceforth, understand that he, before all men, is a person of the smallest worth—a drunkard, a good-for-nothing fellow, unchaste, and a contemner of his own wife.

I’ faith, if this wasn’t true, he would never be doing the things that he is now doing.

Upon my word, I too always hitherto took him to be a decent person; but by this action he declares himself,—to be carousing, indeed, together with his son, and, a decrepit old man, toying with a mistress in his company.

For this it is, i’ faith, that he’s going out to dinner every day.

He says that he’s going to Archidemus, Chereas, Chaerestratus, Clinius, Chremes, Cratinus, Dinias, Demosthenes: while he’s thinking of debauchery, and public dens of infamy with his harlot.

Why don’t you bid your maid-servants carry him off home upon their shoulders?

Do you only be quiet. By my troth, I’ll surely give him some trouble.

I’m sure of it, that so it will befall him, so long, indeed, as you shall continue married to him.

I was fancying that this fellow was still giving attendance either in the senate or to his dependants: that for that reason it was, that, worn out with fatigue, he snored the whole night through. Wearied with his labours out of doors he comes home at night. Another’s farm he ploughs, his own he leaves untilled.

Both he himself is corrupted, and he corrupts his son as well.

Do you only follow me this way, I’ll make you just now to fall upon the man himself in the very fact.

By heaven, there’s nothing that I could more wish for.

Just stop there.

What’s the matter?

If perchance you were to see your husband reclining, if you beheld him with a garland on, caressing a mistress, could you recognize him?

I’ troth, I could.

Then there’s your man.

I’m undone.

Stay a little. Let’s observe in private, from ambush, what business they are about.

What end will you put to your caresses, father?

I confess, my son—

What do you confess?

That I’m utterly undone with love for her.

Do you hear what he says?

I hear.

Ought I not to filch the mantle from my wife at home,

which she is so fond of, and bring it to you? Though my wife’s life should last a whole year in consequence, by my troth I could not be dissuaded from doing so.

Do you suppose that he has been accustomed to frequent a brothel to-day for the first time?

Upon my faith, it was he that was pilfering me; whereas I was suspecting my maid-servants, and was tormenting the wretched creatures who were innocent all the while.

Father,

bid him pour out some wine; ’tis a long time since I drank first .

Begin, boy, from the top . (To PHILENIUM.) Come, do you meanwhile from below give me a kiss.

Wretch that I am, I’m undone! How the villain, the garnishing of a bier , is kissing away.

A breath, by my faith, somewhat sweeter than that of my wife.

Tell me, there’s a dear, does the breath of your wife smell bad?

I’d prefer to drink bilge-water, if it were necessary, rather than kiss her.

Aye, pray, how say you? By my troth, to your own great detriment, you’ve surely said that against me. Never mind; only de you come home, I’ll let you know what danger there is in speaking abusively against a wife with a dowry.

By heavens, you are a wretch.

I’ faith, he’s deserving so to be.

How say you, father?

Don’t you love my mother?

Who—I? I love her just now, because she isn’t present.

How, when she is present?

Then, I wish she was dead.

This fellow is fond of you, according to what he says.

On my word, he’s surely laying out all this at interest; for if, this day, he returns home, I’ll especially have my revenge in kissing him.

Father, throw the dice; that afterwards I may have a throw.

By all means.

You, Philenium, for myself, and death for my wife. (He throws.) ’Tis Venus’s cast . Lads, clap your hands, and give me some honeyed wine in my cup, in honor of my throw.

I can hold out no longer.

If you haven’t learned the fulling trade , it’s not to be wondered at; now it’s quite fitting for you to beset his eyes. (They make their appearance before the revellers.)

By heavens, I will live, and you this day have made that invocation to your own great misfortune.

Will some one run to fetch the undertakers ?

Health to you, mother.

Health indeed after this fashion!

Demaenetus is dead. ’Tis time to betake myself hence: this battle bravely waxes hot. I’ll be off to Diabolus. I’ll tell him his orders are performed as he desired them; and in the meantime I’ll persuade him that we should take a meal, while these people are squabbling.

Afterwards, in fine, I’ll bring him here to-morrow, to the procuress, that he may give her the twenty mince, that, in his turn, he in his passion may be enabled to obtain this damsel. I hope that Argyrippus will be able to be prevailed upon to allow him to pass each alternate night with him in her company; for, unless I obtain that, I’ve lost my patron ; so great is the passion of the man by reason of his love.

What business have you to give a retreat here in your house to my husband?

Troth, he really will this day be the death of wretched me, through sheer disgust.

Rise, wencher, be off home.

I’m undone.

Yes, you are ; don’t, i’ faith, gainsay it, you most vile of all men. Why, the cuckoo’s still on his nest . Rise, wencher, be off home.

Woe to me!

You prophesy correctly. Rise, wencher, be off home.

Step a little this way then.

Rise, wencher, be off home.

Now, prithee, wife—

Do you remember now that I’m your wife? It was but just now, when you were heaping abuse upon me, that I wasn’t your wife.

I’m utterly ruined.

Why, pray? Does the breath of your wife smell strong?

It smells of myrrh.

Have you filched my mantle then to be giving to your harlot?

By the powers—what, did he promise that he would filch your mantle?

Won’t you hold your tongue?

I was going to dissuade him, mother.

A pretty son! (To DEMAENETUS.) Is it proper for a father to teach these morals to his children? Are you ashamed of nothing?

I’ faith, if there’s nothing else, I’m ashamed of you, wife.

With your hoary head, your wife is dragging you, you cuckoo, from dens of infamy.

The dinner’s cooking; mayn’t I stop, only to take my dinner?

Faith, you’ll dine to-day on a heavy mishap, as you deserve.

I shall repose but uncomfortably; my wife is taking me home condemned.

I told you, father, not to devise ill against my mother.

Do remember about the mantle , there’s a dear.

Won’t you order her to go away from here?

Be off home.

Do give me a kiss, at least, before you go.

Go hang yourself.

No, I’ll go in, in preference. (To ARGYRIPPUS.) Follow me this way, my life.

Yes, I follow.

If this old fellow, unknown to his wife, has been in any way indulging his own inclinations, he has been doing nothing new or wonderful, or otherwise than others are in the habit of doing. No one is there of a disposition so severe, or of a temper so firm,

but that he will enjoy himself when he has any opportunity. Now if you wish to interpose in behalf of this old man, so that he be not punished, we think that it can be brought about if you give us loud applause.