Comedies of Publius Terentius Afer (1870)/Andria/Act I
ANDRIA.
ACT I.
Scene 1.—Simo—Sosia—Davus (with provisions).
Sim. Here you, take these within; stay, Sosia, stay,
A word with you.
Sos. About the cookery
No doubt.
Sim. Nay, it is something else.
Sos. Whatever
It may be, I'll do my best.
Sim. It is not
Your active but your passive operation
That now I need; silence and secrecy;
Virtues I ever noted strong in you.
Sos. I am all attention.
Sim. Since I purchased you,
A little child, I have been just to you,
And clement in your servitude to me.
You served me well and I affranchised you;
So I repaid your service with the best
Return that I could make you.
Sos. Which I hold
In grateful recollection.
Sim. Nor do I
Repent your manumission.
Sos. I am glad;
And that my service is commendable,
I am grateful also, Simo; but my ear
Is frightened more than flattered by this speech.
Wherefore remind me of these benefits,
Unless it be to blame forgetfulness?
Then tell me in one word your present will.
Sim. I will do so; but first I must inform you
The nuptials which we feign to celebrate
Are but fictitious.
Sos. Wherefore do you feign them?
Sim. Hear, then, from first to last, and by that means
Learn my son's life, and what I now design.
When Pamphilus was adolescent, Sosia,
I gave him licence more than, perhaps, I ought;
But so I learnt his true propensities.
Unchecked by fear or magisterial hand,
He then betrayed his bent.
Sos. Ah! that is so.
Sim. Boys usually have passions and desires,
Hugging some special pastime to their arms
As dogs and horses—or philosophy.
For him—he follows with sobriety
All things with prudence, so delighting me.
Sos. And good; to my mind there is nought in life
Superior to the ail age that, "Enough
Equals a feast."
Sim. This was his course of life:
Urbane unto his fellows—subjecting
His will to theirs, his pleasures unto theirs,
Opposing none; it following, of course,
He gained their praises and he made them friends.
Sos. It is a good commencement; for to-day,
Deceit wins friendship and truth enemies.
Sim. Some three years since a certain woman came
Hither from Andros, and here made abode.
Want and neglect of relatives coerced
Her to that step—she—young and beautiful—
Sos. I fear this Andrian woman brings ill luck.
Sim. Modest and prudent at the first, and gained
By toil a pittance by the wool and loom.
When lovers came, their purses in their hands,
With her as with the rest of human kind,
Whose tendencies are prone to luxury,
Hostile to toil—she unsupported fell—
At first submissive but to one or two,
And then she opened house to visitors:
Among the rest, by others led, my son.
Then said I to myself—behold him caught;
Then I waylaid their servants, and I asked,
Holloa, my lad—tell me which one possessed
Chrysis, for so she called herself, last night?
Sos. What said they?
Sim. They replied—or Phædrus,
Clinias, or Niceratus; for these three
Made court alike to her! Ahah! quoth I,
"And Pamphilus, what doth he there?" "Eh, what?
He sups and pays his shot." I was rejoiced,
For still it held the same—no Pamphilus.
And I thought him a proof—and an example
Of wisdom in a youth, one firm enough
To mingle in the world and in its ways,
And not to trip—to such a one we may
Resign the bit and let him have his fling;
And all the world would praise me open-mouthed,
Because I had a son of such good sense.
And so it followed. Chremes hears his praise,
And straightway comes to offer me his child,
His only child—with an enormous dowry—
As wife to Pamphilus. I was well pleased,
Accepted—and the nuptials fall to-day.
Sos. Why, then, delay them in reality?
Sim. For this—our neighbour Chrysis died.
Sos. I breathe again—I was in mortal fear
Of that same Chrysis.
Sim. And when she was dead
My son—and all her other clientage—
Performed the funeral rites. I marked him sad,
I saw him weep—and I rejoiced and thought
If he grieve thus for one who is a stranger,
How would he grieve for one allied to him,
How weep for me his father—they were signs
To me of an ingenuous human soul,
And so to end my tale, to please my son,
Neither suspecting evil—I resolved
That I would join her funeral rites myself.
Sos. What followed then?
Sim. All in good time. They brought
Her body forth, we went. Amidst the women
That followed there—there was a girl—a girl
Of most exceeding beauty—
Sos. Ah! no doubt!
Sim. Face, Sosia, and demeanour, exquisite,
Modest, in deep affliction. Marking her
I asked the other women in the train
Her name, and learnt she sister was to Chrysis.
My mind misgave: attat, if that is so
Hence, hence our tears; hence, hence our misery.
Sos. I dread the sequel.
Sim. So the train proceeded.
We followed to the tomb—they placed the corpse,
Upon the pyre, and they raised the lament.
The sister then incautiously approached
The blazing pile, and doubtless was in peril.
Then Pamphilus betrayed the secret fire,
Hidden before, he sprung forth—caught the girl
About the waist, exclaimed, Glycerium,
Wherefore is this—why would you slay yourself?
And it was evident that burst of love
Was not the first which had ta'en place between them;
She flung herself on him familiarly.
Sos. What did you say?
Sim. Irate, with some ado,
I choked my anger, for of no avail
Had been reproaches then. He would have answered—
What have I done, my father? I have saved
A woman who had leapt into the flames.
To outward sight, it was so—and was right.
Sos. Truly, for if you objurgate a man
For saving life, what could you do to one
Devising evils and committing wrongs?
Sim. And the next day came Chremes unto me,
Indignantly declaring Pamphilus
Was wedded to this stranger. I denied it—
Said, there was no such thing; which reaverred
By him—I straightway came away and left
Him, in no mood to give to us a daughter.
Sos. Where is your son?
Sim. I do not think as yet
Proof is sufficient, to attack my son.
Sos. Why not, I pray you?
Sim. For he will retort.
Father, you set a bourn to my pursuits,
And soon compel me to submit to others—
Let me, I pray you, live in the mean time.
Sos. What will be then sufficient cause of plaint?
Sim. If he through love of her refuse to wed,
That is an injury I may avenge.
I lay a trap to catch him, by false nuptials
Catching a true refusal; whereupon
I reason have to act. At the same time
I catch that cursed Davus, who will show
His store of tricks and wiles, which will not lack;
He will lay hand and foot to work to cheat.
He better loves, methinks, to trouble me
Than to assist my son.
Sos. Why so?
Sim. Dost ask!
"Bad mind, bad spirit;" but if I perceive—
Cease this discourse, for if he prove to me
Obedient, nor asks delay—then Chremes
May be brought round again, on due petition.
That which we now must do—to make appear
These spousals to be real: knock Davus down—
Keep eye upon my son, and mark what they
Will machinate together.
Sos. Enough, I will take heed,
Let us go in.
Sim. Go on, I follow you.
ACT I.—Scene 2.—Simo—Davus.
Sim. I do not doubt but that be will refuse,
I noticed Davus give a quail, when I
Spoke of the marriage. He comes out of doors.
Dav. I cannot make it out; what is on foot,
That master ever lenient intends:
Who ever since be knew Chremes will not
Bestow bis daughter here, has held his tongue,
Nor shows a bit of grief.
Sim. But now who means
To do so, and to make you know it too.
Dav. It seems to me he laps us in false joy,
Puts us to sleep with much security,
To swoop upon us, and at unawares
Enforce this marriage.
Sim. Hark to that carnifex.
Dav. He, there; I saw him not.
Sim. Davus.
Dav. How now?
Who calls?
Sim. Come here.
Dav. Master, how now?
Sim. How now!
Dav. I mean what matter.
Sim. What matter? the whole town
Declares my son to be in love.
Dav. [Aside.] The town
Cares little about that.
Sim. Say, do you hear
Or not?
Dav. I hear, I hear.
Sim. It is not right—
That I, his father now, should ferret this:
Nothing he has yet done affecting me.
I suffered all this nonsense in due season,
And let him have his fling. Now, otherwise
The time demands a change of life and manners,
And therefore I demand—that is—I pray
Thee, Davè, that he march in beaten track.
Dav. What does this signify?
Sim. All boys who love
Kick against marriage.
Dav. Ay, ay—so they say.
Sim. If then it hap some evil counsellor
Lure him astray—for evil counsellors
There are, and prompt to lead the love-sick wrong.
Dav. Hercle! I understand not.
Sim . Of course not!
Dav. Davus I am, not Œdipus.
Sim. Do you mean
You wish me to speak out the rest in words?
Dav. I do, assuredly.
Sim. Then hear my words—
If I catch you, in matter of these nuptials
Devising treachery—in opposition—
Or showing off your knavery—you shall have
A thousand stripes and then off to the mill
For life, I say—and swear that if I spare you
I'll take your place and grind—do you understand
Or do you need further enlightenment?
Dav. Nay, none; you have explained, indeed, the whole
With singular intelligence and clearness.
Sim. Do you employ your own intelligence
Of craftiness upon some other subject.
Dav. Kind words, I pray you, master.
Sim. Ah, you jeer,
I know you well: now don't be obstinate,
Nor say I did not warn you: eh, beware.
ACT I.—Scene 3.—Davus.
Dav. From what I see, my Davus, it is time
To wake and look about—from what I see
About the sentiments of this old man
This marriage threatens ruin to my master,
As well as unto me. Now, bother it,
I can't see whether I had better aid
My master Pamphilus, or master father.
If I leave Pamphilus the boy will die,
And if I leave him not, my back must smart.
I cannot see my way, Simo knows all,
And has his eyes on me, and watches me
Lest I should play a trick, and if he spy me
Devising one—off am I to the mill—
And to that am I tending otherwise.
This Andrian, whether wife or whether may,
Is heavy now by Pamphilus—and they
Outrageous are in wild audacity—
Madness, not gladness, better tells their state
They mean to rear the child, or boy or girl,
And feign a likely story—that she is
An Attican—a citizen of Athens.
There was a certain merchant—who they say
Was wrecked on Andros, and that there he died.
The father of this Chrysis took the child
Orphan'd and wrecked, an infant—'tis absurd!
To me it seems a most unlikely tale,
To them it seems most cleverly devised.
Here Mysis comes forth from her—I will hence
Unto the Forum to find Pamphilus,
And warn him of these matters going on.
ACT I.—Scene 4.—Mysis—Archillis.
Mys. Nonsense, Archillis, what you talk about;
What! Lesbia? Pol, a woman wine-bibber,
And rash withal—and to commit to her
The management in this—a first-born's birth!
And must I bring her home? Behold you now
The trickery of these—contipplers both.
Gods grant unto my mistress a good time;
If they must blunder let it be elsewhere.
Eh! what's the matter now with Pamphilus?
I fear what it may be, must stop and know,
I fear he brings us tidings of some woe.
ACT I.—Scene 5.—Pamphilus—Mysis.
Pam. Now, is this human—this vile enterprise?
Say, is this deed paternal?
Mys. What is what?
Pam. O faith of gods and man! What is, I say,
A vile indignity, if this be not—
To marry me to-day, nor think it meet
To ask me, or communicate the fact.
Mys. Unhappy me, what tidings do I hear?
Pam. And Chremes, who withdrew his word, nor would
Grant unto me his daughter. Say has he
Turned round because I am unsuitable?
And is he thus obdurate, to enforce
My separation with Glycerium?
If so, I am undone—past remedy.
Was ever man, I ask, so crossed in love,
Unhappy and unfortunate as I?
O faith of gods and man! Is there no mode
By which I can avoid—escape this tie.
Cursèd alliance. And myself contemned,
Despised, and unconsulted, find it all
A settled thing. Zounds! And am sent for—why?
Now, by my soul! I think she is deformed,
And no one else will have her; therefore, therefore,
They come to me.
Mys. I am frightened of my life.
Pam. My father also—that he should transact
Affairs of so much moment heedlessly.
He met me in the Forum, and he said,
To-day we marry you, my Pamphilus!
Hurry you home. Hurry to hang yourself,
Methought he said to me. I stood aghast,
Without the gift of speech; nor could reply
With reason good nor bad: dumbfounded quite.
Now, had I but foreknown, and been prepared,
And had my reasons and objections ready;
But now I do not know what I can do,
For cares beset me, harrowing my soul.
Love, pity, detestation, duty to
My father, whom I love, and hitherto
Evermore lenient. I am beset with doubts,
Nor do I know which way to turn myself.
Mys. Nor do I know which way to turn myself.
I must address him, must speak of my mistress,
If he do not ask first. When the mind doubts
And vacillates, a pin may turn the scale.
Pam. Who speaks? Ah, Mysis, salvè.
Mys. Salvè, master.
Pam. How goes it?
Mys. Dost thou ask? She is in labour,
And in distress of mind—for, as she bears,
They marry you to-day unto another,
And she in fear that you abandon her.
Pam. How can she fear so? Can she think that I
Would suffer she should suffer misery.
She who has given all to me—herself,
Her soul, loved me exceedingly—my wife.
She, nurtured in the gentlest fantasy,
As modest as well educated—she
To suffer want, to bear indignity,
By my soul, never!
Mys. If upon you alone
The thing depended—but you must oppose
Coercion.
Pam. Am I a beast—inhuman,
Ungrateful, barbarous—that fond possession,
Love, honour, all things binding to the soul
Should let me break my faith?
Mys. And one thing more,
Her worth and merit you should not forget.
Pam. Forget her worth and merit—Mysis, Mysis,
I have engraven on my very heart
The words of Chrysis on Glycerium.
She called me to her side, ourselves alone,
Glycerium and me. My Pamphilus, she said,
You see her youth and comeliness, you know
The snares which will beset them with the cash
I leave to her. By your right hand, I pray,
And by your good faith and integrity—
Never desert her, nor live separate.
If like a brother I have ever loved you,
If you by her adored have been alone,
If I upon my death-bed trust in thee,
Be unto her a husband, friend, and father:
My worldly goods do I bequeath to you
Assured of your good faith. And then she put
Our hands in one another. So she died.
The faith I gave to her, I mean to keep.
Mys. Gods grant it so.
Pam. Why did you come away?
Mys. I seek the midwife.
Pam. Hurry then, I pray.
And, Mysis, on your life, no word of marriage
To trouble and perplex her.
Mys. Fear you not.