MENEDEMUS seen at work in his garden.
CHREMES calling to him over the hedge.
CHREMES.
GOOD morning, sir! good morning!
(Aside.) He does not hear me.—Sir!
Good morning!
(Aside.) No: he goes on digging away for his life—
Ho! Menedemus! Ho!
MENEDEMUS.
Who is it calls?
Men. Chremes! why, what’s the matter?
Chr.I only said good morning.4
I wish you the compliments of the day. ’Tis the feast of Bacchus.
Men. I thank you. The same to you.
Chr.I had something to say besides,
If you are at leisure.
Men.You see I am busy:
But if ’tis a matter of any importance—
Men. Pray step to the gate: I’ll open it for you.
Chr.You are very good.
(Aside.) How fagged he looks!
Men.Come in. You will not think me rude,
If I ask you to tell your errand while I dig.
11Chr.Excuse me,
My good friend; and your spade, pray you, awhile put down.
You must stop working.
Men.No: I cannot rest a minute.
(Taking the spade.)Chr. I can’t allow it indeed.
Men.Now, sir, you wrong me.
Chr.Hey!
My word! what a weight it is!
Men.It’s not too heavy for me.5
Chr. Come! what’s all this? well take it again, but don’t refuse me
A moment’s attention.
Chr.’Tis a matter concerns you nearly:
So leave your work, and come outside, and sit on the bench,
Where we may talk.
Men.Whatever you have to say, Chremes,
May be said here.
20Chr.No doubt; but better as I propose:
I will not detain you long.
Men. You have something to say.
Men. (sitting). Well, as you will.
And now in as few words as may be . . . I am at your service.—
Explain.
Chr. Menedemus, although our acquaintance has been but short,
And only dates from the day you bought this piece of land.
And came to live close by me: for little or nought but that6
Occasioned it, as you know: yet my respect for you,
Or else your being a neighbour, for that itself, I take it,
Counts in some sort as friendship, makes me bold and free
30To give you a piece of advice: the fact is, you seem to me
To be working here in a manner, which both to your time of life
And station, is most unsuitable. What, in Heaven’s name,
Can be your object? what do you drive at? To guess your age
You are sixty years at least. There’s no one hereabouts
Can shew a better farm, nor more servants upon it:
And yet you do the work yourself, as tho’ you had none.
Never do I go out, however early in the morning,
Never come home again, however late at night,
But here I see you digging, hoeing, or at all events
40Toiling at something or other. You are never a moment idle,
Nor shew regard for yourself. Now all this can’t be done
For pleasure, that I am sure of, and as for any profit,
Why, if you only applied half the energy
To stirring up your servants, both you and your farm7
Would do much better.
Men. Have you so much spare time then, Chremes,
Left from your own affairs to meddle with other people’s?
The which moreover do not concern you.
Chr.I am a man.
Nought which concerns mankind concerns not me, I think.
49Ere I advise, I’d first enquire what ’tis you do;
If well, to learn by example; if ill, then to dissuade.
Men. My duty is this: do you as best may suit yourself.
Chr. What man can say ’tis right for him to torment himself?
Chr.If it is any sorrow or trouble that has driven you to this,
I am very sorry. But . . . what is it? Tell me, I pray.
Whatever can you have done, that calls for such a penance?
Chr. Come! don’t give way: confide to me this affair.
Trust me: keep nothing back, I entreat you: have no fear.
Surely I may either help, or advise, or at least console you.
8
Men. You really wish to know?
Chr.Yes, for the reason I gave.
Men.I have an only son, Chremes—
Alas what say I? have? had I should rather say;
62For whether now I have or not, I cannot tell.
Men.You shall hear: attend. There came to live in the city
A poor old widow woman from Corinth. She had a daughter,
With whom my son, who is just of age, fell madly in love,
Was even at the point to marry: and all without my knowledge.
However it came to my ears; and then I began to treat him
Unkindly, and not in the way to deal with a love-sick lad;
69But after the usual dictatorial manner of fathers.
I never left him in peace. Don’t think, my fine fellow,
I’d say, that you’ll be allowed to continue behaving thus,
While I am alive to prevent it; running after a girl
And talking of marrying too: you are very much mistaken,
Clinia, if you think that. You don’t know me. I am glad9
To have you called my son, while you respect your honour;
But if you once forget it, I shall find a means,
And one you will not like, of asserting my own. All this
I see very plainly, I said, has come from idle habits.
You have not enough to do. When I was your age
80I did not fritter away my time in making love;
But finding my pockets empty, set out for Asia,
And won myself distinction and fortune in foreign service.
At last, Chremes, it came to this: the poor young fellow,
Continually hearing the same thing put so strongly to him,
Gave in: he thought my age and due regard for his welfare
Were likely to shew him a wiser and more prudent course
Than his own feelings;—he left the country, and went to fight
Under the king of Persia.
Men.He started off
One day without a word. He has now been gone six months.
90Chr. Both were to blame; however I think the step that he took
Was the act of a modest and not unmanly disposition.
10
Men. I enquired of some of his friends, and when I learnt the truth,
I returned home to my house miserable, my mind
Unhinged—distracted with grief. I sat me down; my servants
Came running to know my pleasure; some drew off my shoes,
Others were hastening to and fro to prepare my dinner,
Each anxious by doing his best to lessen the pain
Of my great misfortune: in vain: the sight of them made me think,
‘What! is it then for me alone that all these persons
100So busily are engaged? all for my comfort?
For me is it that so many women are spinning; for me
This great household expense & luxury are maintained?
And my only son, who in all should equally share with me—
Nay, should have the larger share, since at his age he is able
Better to use such things & enjoy them—him, poor boy,
I have driven out of the house by my unkindness. No,
I had rather die than do it. While he leads a life
Of poverty & of hardship, exiled from home & country
109By my severe treatment, so long will I visit
His punishment on myself, labouring, fasting, saving,
Serving and slaving for him.’ I began there and then;11
I stripped the house for a sale, left nothing in it, not a dish
To eat off, not a coat to put on. I collected everything:
And as for the men and maids, excepting such as were able
To work the cost of their living out on my fields, I sent them
To market and sold them, I put up a notice, THIS HOUSE TO LET;
And setting the price of all, some fifty talents, together,
I bought this farm, and am well convinced at heart, Chremes,
That in making myself miserable I act more justly
120Towards him, my absent son; and that ’twere crime to indulge
In any comfort, till he return home safe again
To share it with me.
Chr.I see that you are a kind father;
And he, I think, had been a dutiful son, if treated
With moderation and judgment: but look, you did not know
Each other well enough: a common fault to observe
In family life, and one destructive of happiness.
You never let him perceive how dear he was to you,12
So he dared not confide in you, when it was his duty:
To have done the one or other had spared you this misfortune.
130Men. ’Tis as you say, I admit; but I was the more to blame.
Chr. True. And to lose a child is deplorable. I had myself
The same misfortune without my fault. A daughter it was,
Stolen from me I know not how: my second child, a babe.
That’s fifteen years ago. I was living at Ephesus,
Where such events are regarded as commonish accidents.
I know not where she was taken, have never heard of her since;
And tho’ I have not forgot it, my own experience is,
One does entirely get over the sort of thing—I assure you.
Men. ’Tis kind of you thus to recall your sorrow to comfort mine.
140My condolence can make a distinction: the child you lost
Was a daughter, a babe, you say. Clinia was my only son,13
Grown up. Besides you admit you were not at all to blame:
I brought this on myself. See, friend, the difference!
Chr. However I see no reason yet to despair, Menedemus.
You will have him safe at home again, and soon, I am sure.
Chr.They will. And now, ’tis the feast of Bacchus;
We keep a birthday too. I hope, if it is agreeable,
That you will come and dine at my house.
Chr.Why not?
Do pray now, after all you have done, allow yourself
150This little relaxation. Think your absent son
Is asking you through me.
Men.It is not right that I,
Who have driven him into hardships, should spend my time in pleasures.
Chr. You will not change your mind?
Chr.Then I’ll say good-bye.
Chr.A tear, I do believe; I am sorry for him.
’Tis lamentable to see goodness punished thus14
For lack of a little wisdom. Folly brings remorse,
And again remorse folly: they tread the circle; and he
Would mend one fault by another, and on himself revenge
159The wrong he has done his son. And that wrong too was not
A real unkindness: no: mere want of common sense;
It’s what I am always saying,—that is evil. To quote
From the very profoundest of authors, my favourite Sophocles,
Wisdom is far away the chiefest of happiness.
Of course a man may be happy, although he has lost his son,
If it cannot be charged to his fault. In spite of the best intentions
Menedemus is much to blame. Poor fellow, but I may assist him.
And if I can, I will. I love to help a neighbour;
’Tis pleasure as well as duty: because it is a pleasure
To be wiser than others, and even a friend’s predicament
170Increases the satisfaction I feel, when I think how well
My own household is managed. But stay, ’tis time I went15
To see that all’s in order for the feast we hold to-night.
There are one or two old friends, who’d take it much amiss
[Exit.Did I not ask them. Now at once I’ll go and find them.
Enter Pamphilus and Clinia.
PAMPHILUS.
That queer old boy’s my father: didn’t you know him?
No.
How should I? but his name I know—Chremes.
Pam.You have it.
Take care he hear not your name.
Clin.Why so, Pamphilus?
What can he know of me? and if he knew . . .
Pam.See, Clinia,
That is our house, & here the hedge & paling bounds
Your father’s.
Pam.You see what a stroke of luck it was
181To meet me when you did. You must have betrayed yourself
By making enquiries, but I at the merest hint have led you16
Straight to the place: besides, if you wish to be near your father
Without his knowing that you are returned, my governor
Can put you up.
Clin.For heaven’s sake
Be careful; may he not see me?
Pam.If he looked over the myrtles
No doubt he might.
Clin.Hush! hush! He’ll hear you.
Pam.All serene.
He’s not this side: stand there: I’ll go & spy around.
Keep out of sight.
Clin.Stay, Pamphilus; are you really sure
This is my father’s?
Pam.This is the place they told me, and here
A Menedemus lives, and has for the last six months.
We’re right enough.
Clin.I fear he’ll see us: pray come back.
Pam. I thought you wished to see him.
Clin.Ay, and so I do;
194But nothing less in the world, if it should be the occasion
Of his seeing me.
17
Pam.Trust me: he won’t. I’ll speer about.
He’s sure to be digging somewhere near.
Pam.If not,
(Goes round peering.)It is not old Menedemus.
Clin.Oh what can it mean,
My father’s sudden change of home and manner of life?
He that so loved the town: himself the very centre
200Of all good company, the best invited man,
And most besought in Athens. Nothing but great disgust
Could thus have turned his temper. I am the cause, and one
Of two things it must be; either he is more offended with me
Than I supposed; or else, and this I hope and think,
My flight, breaking the bond that surely was the nearest
And dearest to him, has wrought upon him, and now he turns
And will consent: if that, ’tis well I am here: if not,
He must not come to know I am back in Athens: nay,
’Twould only vex him more: I must hide from him still:18
210For though there is nothing in the extremest scope of duty
In which I would not obey him but one thing, ’tis this thing
I am pledged to. Love absolves me. Nay, ’tis not for him
I am now returned. I have chosen; I am not ashamed: I made
One dutiful effort—oh intolerable! I am come,
Sweetest Antiphila, to marry thee, and I will marry thee;
Without consent, if must be, against my father’s will—
Yet now I have hope; and whether rightly or wrongly I hope
I must discover.
(Pamphilus returns to Clinia.)
Pam.It’s very funny: he’s not to be seen.
Pam.To-day’s my birthday, Clinia:
220We have asked some friends to come: if you will be my guest,
Our house is very handy. No one shall hear your name.
My father will not suspect you.
Clin.I thank you. There’s no need.
Pam. I’ll call you Clitipho.
19
Clin.No, no, I am ill-disposed
For company. Pray excuse me. Besides I am sure your father
Must be acquainted with mine.
Pam.I doubt it. He often says
He wonders who in the world his eccentric neighbour is.
But whether he knows or not we’ll soon find out: for look,
He is coming down the road. Stand back where you can hear;
And if he has any knowledge that can be of use to you,
I’ll worm it out.
Re-enter Chremes.
230Chr.What are you doing, Pamphilus,
Looking over the hedge into our neighbour’s garden?
Do you not know how vulgar curiosity is?
Spying and prying thus into other folk’s affairs.
I am quite ashamed of you, sir!
Pam.I was only looking to see
If I could catch a glimpse of old Menedemus, father.
I’ve found out something about him.
Chr.Eh! and what is that?
Pam. Have you ever heard of Clinia?
Chr.Clinia, Clinia? Yes—20
Of course, why he’s Menedemus’ son, who is now in Persia.
I know about him.
Pam.Well, he’s an old school-friend of mine.
240Pam.You know when first I came to school at Athens,
He was kind to me, and afterwards, when we all came here to live,
I met him again. I never dreamed that ’twas his father,
Who took this place next door. I used to hear he was quite
A different sort of person.
Chr.Ay, no doubt he was.
The trouble his son has brought upon him has broke him down.
Pam. Why, Clinia had no debts.
Chr.Perhaps he had no debts:
But I could tell you more about him than you imagine.
I have never been able to take any pleasure, Pamphilus,
In any one of your friendships; and now I am grieved to find
250You are intimate with this foolish, dissolute young man.21
Evil communications corrupt good manners.
Pam. Clinia is not that sort at all.
Pam. I know he fell in love with a girl that lives in the town,
And wanted to marry her, only his father would not hear of it,
And sent him off to Asia, and now—
Pam. And if he did, no wonder, considering his father’s treatment.
Chr. He should not have done so.
Pam.I take it his father’s sorry now.
Chr. Of course all parents are always sorry for their sons’ misconduct.
Pam. But he has far more cause to be sorry now for his own.
260Chr. (aside).I must not let my son
Know how this old man dotes. If he should think all fathers
As soft as poor Menedemus, pretty pranks he’d play me!
Pam. What were you saying?
Chr.Ha! I’ll tell you what I was saying;
That in any case his duty was to have stayed at home.22
’Tis possible that his father was somewhat more severe
Than he found pleasant; but still he should have put up with it.
For whom shd a lad submit to, if not to his own father?
Ought his father, tell me, to have fallen in with him,
Or he with his father? And then what he is pleased to call
270A hardship, was nothing of the kind: the so-called severities
Of fathers are much of a piece: the least strict do not like
To see their sons continually in bad company,
Continually drinking: and so they are sparing in what they allow them;
For such restrictions, remember, promote good morals.
But when a man’s mind has once become the slave
Of evil passions, he is driven of necessity from bad to worse.
There’s wisdom, Pamphilus, in the saying, By others’ faults
Wise men correct their own.
Chr.Very well.
Then I need say no more.
Pam.Would not the old man, sir,
Be glad to see him back?
23
Chr.He would be glad to see him
281Return from his evil ways to a dutiful course of conduct.
Pam. I guess he’d let him marry the girl.
Chr. (aside).What shall I say?
Chr. Nay, Pamphilus: attend to me. No father
Would ever give in to his son in a matter of this kind.
Learn this lesson: see what shame your friend has brought
On his poor old father. No, ’twould never do to yield.
I can promise you too that he will not. I should not advise it myself.
Pam. You don’t know Clinia, sir; and have never seen the girl.
You go entirely by what this old Menedemus says.
He never saw her himself.
Chr. (aside). That’s true.—And you have seen her?
Chr.And what is she like?
Pam.I never saw anything like her.
Chr. Come, what d’ye mean?
Pam.I tell you, I know now what she’s like—
The statue that stands in the hall: the third on the left.
Chr.The Grace?
An elegant taste.
24
Pam.If you were to see her, you’d say the same.
Chr. Should I? Then just attend. I wish to help my neighbour.
If all were ready to lend their neighbours a helping hand,
We should not hear the complaints we do against ill fortune.
I am always ready myself; am now: in point of fact
299I have promised to do what I can: but since, before I act,
Or even judge, I am willing to know all sides of a case,
’Tis part of my duty to see this girl. Could you procure
That I should speak with her?
Pam. (aside). This is the very thing we want.
If now I could get him to ask Antiphila here to-day,
Clinia of course would come: I’ll try and work it.
Chr.Well?
Answer me. Could you do this?
Chr. I did not mean to-day.
Pam.There’s no time like the present.
Pam.Invite her here to spend the feast with us,25
And bring a friend.
Chr. Whom have you asked besides?
311Chr. It happens, Pamphilus, we are short of guests; I find
My old friend Phanias has gone from home to-day.
Archonides’ wife is ill; they cannot come: and now
Just the last thing Daniel has disappointed me.
The two young ladies would help us out: besides I am sure
’Twould please your mother to ask them.
Pam.I cannot agree with you there.
Chr. Allow me to judge of that; and since you said you were able
To bring them—bring them.
Pam.Oh, if you wish it, I’m ready enough;
I’ll see they come: but I had forgotten; there is one more
Besides Philolaches.
320Chr.Who then? I beg you’ll bring
None of your Clinias here.
Pam.He that is with me now.
Chr. He is it? That’s quite another thing: A gentleman26
At first sight, Pamphilus; I wish that all your friends
Were such as he. By all means bring him. Present him now.
His name?
Chr. (aside). I like his appearance much:
When I came up he went respectfully aside—
Excellent manners. (To Clin.) Ha, good Clitipho, how d’ye do?
’Tis time that we were acquainted. I understand my son
329Has invited you to our house. There’s not much I can offer,
But My little pot is soon hot. I am very glad
And proud to have you my guest.
Clin.I thank you, sir; I am sorry—
Chr. No thanks, I pray. At present excuse me; for I must go
And prepare my wife to receive her guests. You’re sure they’ll come?
Chr.And I hope they may. ’Twill make our numbers up:
We’ll have a merry feast.
[Exit Chremes within.Pam.Ay, sir....
And so we shall,
Clinia.
27
Clin. What have you done?
Pam.Why pretty well, I think.
Clin. I did not look for this, nor wish it, and do not like it.
Pam. Not like it! Is it not perfect? If all the gods in heaven
Had put their heads together to assist in your affairs,
340They could not have done it better than I. My father bids
You and Antiphila both to spend the day; and he,
Charmed with her grace and beauty, will use his influence
To bring your father round.
Clin.I would not risk so much
On the fancy of any man: and though I have a hope
Antiphila’s charms will plead not vainly, that must be
When she’s my wife, not now: and they must urge themselves;
Another cannot paint them.
Pam.I do beseech you, Clinia,
Don’t leave a friend in the lurch. Hark you; to tell the truth,
My scheme suits me to a T as well as you. My father
Expects Antiphila to bring a companion with her:
351Now I have a lady friend, with whom I am circumstanced28
Much as you are with yours. My father, just as yours,
Would never hear of my asking her home; but if she comes
To-day as Antiphila’s friend, he’ll not guess who she is;
So you may have your love to yourself, & I have mine.
And see, here comes Philolaches, our other guest:
I’ll tell him what is arranged: he’ll be a strong ally.
Clin. Indeed, I can’t consent: and who is Philolaches,
That you shd wish to tell him all my private affairs?
360Pam. Ah, he can smell a rat; but don’t be afraid of him;
He’s my sworn friend: & sure no less to keep a secret,
Than he is to find out anything in the mortal world
That you seek to withhold.
Clin.I pray, say nothing to him of me.
Pam. Trust us; we won’t betray you.
(Runs back to meet Phil.)
Clin.Pamphilus! why he’s gone.
Now save me from my friends! Indeed this Pamphilus
Will be my ruin: I wish to heaven I had never met him.
He’ll tell his father next, this old Ionian huckster,
Sponge-mongering Chremes; the gods defend me from him,29
And his family feast, and his prosy wisdom! I thought to spend
370This day of my return with sweet Antiphila:
And here I am, caught by the ears. And yet my troublesome friend
Means well: I would not hurt his feelings; but at any cost
I must get clear, and in one matter I cannot yield:
I will not have Antiphila brought to the judgment-seat
Of this suburban oracle. What has he to do
With me & mine, my father or her—to push his nose
Into our affairs?
Re-enter Pamphilus with Philolaches.
Pam.Allow me, Clinia, here’s my friend
Philolaches, the actor. Philolaches, my friend
Clinia: who is, as I told you, in Persia, you understand.
He looks for some assurance of your discretion.
380Sir,
You have it. Take this hand. And by the dog I swear
Not to divulge a tittle; in friendship’s secrecy
Rather to aid—
Clin.No need, sir: I take the will for the deed.
My business is my own, and not of such a kind
As another can help in.
30
Ph.A family quarrel—
Meddling of course resented. But while your father, sir,
Treats you so ill, expels you his house, denies his ear
To the pitiful plea—
Clin.Excuse me again. I do not know
That my father is ill-disposed.
Ph. (to Pam.).You told me.
Pam.I said he was;
But Clinia hopes he may now be changed.
390Ph.If that’s the case,
I see that your wish must be, that I shd discover at once
Your father’s temper towards you.
Clin.Indeed, sir, I do not wish it.
Ph.I promise to find it out
In half an hour.
Ph.I am an actor, sir;
Never so much myself as when I seem another.
Would you employ my talent—
Clin.Why, what would you do?
Ph. Disguise myself as a Persian, late arrived in Athens:31
Go to your father’s house & bring him tidings of you.
How the old man took what I should tell him would teach you all.
Nay, I can promise more; that, if there’s left in him
401The last wandering spark of affection, I’ll blow it to flame,
And you shall twist him round your thumb.
Clin.But, sir,
What tidings would you feign?
Ph.That is as I should find him:
If soft, I’d handle him kindly: if hard, I’d say I’d seen you
Sick of a fever, enslaved, imprisoned, or, if required,
Dead and buried.
Clin.And so you would give him needless pain.
Pam. That is the question, Clinia; if you were sure of that,
You would not be hiding.
Clin.Nay, but the doubt will not excuse me
In doing the thing, which I still must hope would pain him most.
410Ph. What matter, when all the time you are just behind the hedge?
No reason I see to wound him: I shall feel my way.
An hour will settle all. If he be kindly bent,32
Or I can move him towards you, you must stand prepared
To strike while the iron is hot. The lady, I understand,
Will be with you here: be ready, and when I give the word,
You step across the road and kneel for the old man’s blessing.
Clin. I have told you, Pamphilus, Antiphila must not come.
Your father’s interference is most unfortunate:
He is not my judge for good or ill. It shall not be.
420Ph.A very delicate point.
And yet ’tis a pity they should not come.
Pam.O Clinia,
Your obstinacy will ruin all.
Ph. (to Pam.).I understand.
Your friend objects to the lady coming, because he thinks
Your father will know her?
Ph.Nay, not at all.
Chremes need never know her.
Pam.How can you manage that?
33
Ph. The thing’s as easy as lying. Let the ladies change
Their names; or if so be Chremes knows not their names,
428Let them but change their parts. Gorgo—for that’s the lady,
Whom you would bring, I guess—let Gorgo pass to-day
For Clinia’s mistress; let Antiphila play the maid;
Wh hinders not that when they come, each take his own.
You have your Gorgo; you, sir, your Antiphila:
And none will be any the wiser.
Pam.Good. What say you now?
Clin. ’Twould make all kinds of complications, Pamphilus:
And all to no manner of purpose.
Pam.Why, I should keep my promise,
And spend the day with Gorgo.
Clin.I’ll play no part in this.
You quite forget besides that as yet I know not how
Antiphila will receive me. I have been six months away;
She may have thrown me over, may have another lover,
And think of me no more.
440Ph.Wish you to find out that?
I’ll serve you too in this. Give me the word to go
And visit her where she lives, and if I find her true,
To bring her along at once.
34
Clin. ’Tis extremely kind of you, sir,
To throw yourself so quickly and hotly into my affairs:
But indeed I do not need it.
Ph. ’Tis plain to me you do.
A runaway just returned, afraid to face his father,
Fearful lest in his absence his mistress have proved untrue—
Not need a friend? Why a friend is just what you do need,
To discover for you the state of affairs, and put you in train.
450Clin. Though, sir, I were quite content to reckon upon your zeal,
Maybe you overrate your ability.
Ph.Not at all.
Unless you will say that by art I am able to counterfeit
Passion in all its branches, & yet not know the thing
When I see it;—as if a man cd write who cannot read.
You think your love for this lady a secret between yourselves—
That she would not reveal it to me, a stranger? How in the world
Could she conceal it? Why, don’t you know that a girl in love
Is A B C to read? Trust me and let me try.
Pam. Clinia, do yield, I pray.
35
Clin.I know not what to do.
460I’ll yield so far as this: that if Philolaches
Can, as he boasts, discover these two things for me, first
How my father stands disposed to me now, and next
Whether Antiphila’s heart is firm—and this so soon
And easily as he thinks—I would not hinder him.
One stipulation only: let him name what time
Will cover the whole performance; for failing him, I’d like
To take my affairs in hand myself. I’ll ask him then,
When does he hope to do this?
Ph.Give me an hour apiece.
Ph.Enough: a bargain. ’Tis two hearts
To read—your father and mistress.
470Clin.And both this afternoon.
Pam. And bring the lady if she is true.
Ph.Agree to this: I first will go
And visit Antiphila; if she is willing, I bring her here,
And here you may meet. But since she comes as Gorgo’s maid,
’Twill be easy for you to withdraw with her, where and when you choose:36
I meanwhile will angle your father.
Clin. (to Pam.).Then thus I assent,
That first, she is not introduced to your father; and secondly,
That I may take her away when I choose.
Ph.I’m off.
But first a word with you (to Pam.).
Pam. (to Clin.). O Clinia, I do thank you.
480But don’t stay out here longer: somebody is sure to see you.
Go into the house.
Clin.If you will come with me.
Clin. I have never met your people. I can’t go in by myself.
[Exit Clinia within.Pam. Why, man alive, there’s only my father and mother. Go in.
Ph. Your friend has money?
Ph.If I succeed,
He’ll give me something?
Pam.Surely. What are you going to do?
Ph. I’m going to dress myself up as a Persian—didn’t you hear?
To take in old Menedemus.
37
Ph.Why, yes,
If you will do as I tell: you shall be Persian in chief,
Swagger and talk the gibberish: I’ll be interpreter.
Two are better than one, tho’ one be a tup’s head.
Pam. Menedemus knows me by sight.
491Ph.Not in a Persian dress.
Come, there’s no time to lose. I’ll go to the lady first:
What is her name? Antiphila?
Ph.And where does she live?
Pam. I’ll come with you down the road, and tell you all as we go.
But let’s be off. I fear Clinia may change his mind.
[Exeunt.
38
ACT · II
Enter PAMPHILUS.
PAMPHILUS.
WHAT unjust judges fathers all are towards their children;
Pretending to us as they do that the moment we cease to be boys
We ought to become thorough old men, without a trace
Of the inclinations natural to our time of life:
Governing us by the rule of their present appetites,
And not by those they have lost. If ever I have a son,
He will find me an easy father, able to understand
His faults, I hope, and ready to make allowance for them:
Not like mine, suspicious & cross—& he never speaks
But to read me a lecture on somebody else. Why, bless my soul,
If he has but taken an extra glass or two, the tales
Of his own wickedness he’ll come out with! And then he says,39
By others’ faults wise men correct their own. What wisdom!
He little thinks how deaf an adder he is trying to charm.
510At present the words of my mistress touch me nearer far,
When she says, Give me this, or, Bring me that; and I
Have nothing to answer. Nobody could be in a worse plight.
This fellow Clinia here has his hands full, yet his mistress
Is modest & well brought up, too gentle & innocent
To trifle with affection. Mine is a fine lady, exacting,
Vain, fashionable & extravagant; & I lack the means
To please her fancy. This misfortune is new to me—
An experience, which I have only just begun to learn:
And as yet my father guesses nothing of it.
If all were well,
520They must have been here before: I fear there’s something happened,
Or that in my absence she may have become estranged from me.
Clin.O, I am most unhappy.
Pam.You had best take care,
Or some one coming out of your father’s house may see you.
Clin. I will; but, Pamphilus, I have a strong presentiment
Of some misfortune, I know not what.
Pam.Why, what’s the matter?
Clin. Were nothing the matter, they certainly would have been here by this.
Pam. Nonsense. Doesn’t it strike you it’s some way off? and then
You know how it is with women, they are always about a year
Putting on their things and getting themselves up.
530Clin. But only fancy if really she should have forgotten me!
Yes,—while like a fool I ran away from home,
And wandered I know not where, fall’n in deep disgrace,
Undutiful to my father, for whom I am now sorry
And ashamed of my conduct towards him;—thou, yes, O thou hast
Deserted me, my Antiphila. What shall I do?
Pam.Look, look!
I see them coming.
41
Pam.Well, here’s Philolaches,
Who comes to announce them, (aside) and on his shoulders a mighty bale
Of Persian togs.
Enter Philolaches with a large bundle.
Clin.He has come without them! (To Phil.) Tell me, sir,
Do the ladies come?
They follow; I come before,
540Because there’s not a woman in Athens would walk with me
Carrying such a bundle along the public streets.
(Sets bundle down.)I was almost ashamed of myself.
Clin.But does she know I am here?
Ph. Or else had never come.
Clin.You have actually seen her then?
Ph. I’ll tell you all I saw. The business was, I think,
To discover if she was true?
Clin.It was. Indeed I feared—
Ph. Then I have discovered it for you.
Clin.If you have really done so,
Tell me your news at once.
Ph.Attend. When first I came42
To the house, I knocked. Out came an old woman and opened the door;
I struck past her into the room. Of all the ways
550Of finding out how she has been living all these months,
This suddenly breaking in on her was the best: this gave me
A pretty good guess at her usual way of spending the time:
There’s nothing like it for showing what people really are.
I came upon her hard at work at her tapestry,
Dressed in a common gown: no gold about her; none
Of the rouge and powder, that women bedaub their faces with:
She was dressed like those who dress for themselves: her hair was loose
And pushed back carelessly from her face—
559Ph. The old woman was spinning the woof: one servant girl besides
Wove with her, quite in rags, untidy and dirty.
Pam.Now,
If this is true, I see you are safe. You would not find
The servant a slattern, where there’s a lover.
Ph. When I told her that you were returned, and had sent for her.
She suddenly stopped in her work; the tears ran down her cheeks
In such a way, it was easy to see ’twas for love of you.—
Clin. Perdition take me now, if I know where I am for joy.
I was so afraid.
Ph.Ay, no fear.
But don’t forget who’s who.
Pam.And have you taught the ladies
Their parts?
Ph. Antiphila’s part is nothing to learn at all;
Except she must not call your friend by his right name:
But Gorgo—
Ph.Why she was hard to persuade, but once
Persuaded, I do not fear her. I am more afraid of you;
573Don’t you forget that she doesn’t belong to you, mind! The slip
Of a word might ruin all. And don’t make signs.
Pam.Trust me.
See here they come.
Ph.Stay; let us stand aside;44
And watch them till they see us.
Ph.I say, stand back.
(They retire.)
Enter Gorgo and Antiphila.
GORGO.
Upon my word, my dear Antiphila, I do praise
And envy you too, when I see how all your study has been
579To make your mind as charming and sweet as your face. Lord love you!
I’m not surprised at any one wanting to marry you.
I see from what you’ve said what kind of person you are;
And when I come to think of the sort of life, which you
And people like you, lead, who keep admirers off
At arms’-length, then no wonder, I say, that you shd be
Just what you are, and others, like me, so different.
Then once your mind made up to share and spend your days
With the man whose disposition is most congenial to you,
He never leaves you more: for mutual benefits
Must bind you so closely, that no misfortune can ever come
To cross your love.
45
590I cannot tell what others do;
But I know I always have wished, and done my best, to find
My happiness in what pleased him.
Clin. (aside). Ah, my Antiphila,
And that is why I love you, why I am now returned.
Gor. Who is that young man who is standing to look at us?
Gor.Why, what in the world’s the matter, my dear?
Ant. I shall die; I shall die.
Gor.Do say, what is it astonishes you?
Ant. Is it Clinia I see or not?
Ant. My long-expected Clinia, it is you.
Ant. Oh, I am glad you have come back safe.
Clin.Do I hold thee,
Antiphila, thou most desired of my heart!
600Ph.Take care.
Remember. Here comes the old man.
(Takes up the bundle.)
Enter Chremes from his house.
46
I thought so; here you are.
I heard your voices. I welcome you all. How very nice!
Now, Pamphilus, pray present me!
Pam. (presenting Gorgo).This is the lady, sir.
My father, miss.
Chr. (aside). She is handsomely dressed. (To Gorgo) I am very proud
To make your acquaintance. I hope the day may be fortunate.
’Twas kind of you now to come.
Gor.Why, bless your heart, old man,
I thank ye: but all the same I came to please myself.
Pam.And this is the lady she brings with her.
Chr. (to Antiphila).Ah, good-day.
You are welcome, welcome all. Again, good Clitipho.
Philolaches, I think. Good-day to you, sir! My word!
What a gigantic bundle!
Ph. The ladies’ cloaks and wraps.
Chr.Shame to load you thus!
You know the proverb, The willing horse. Pray set them down.
I’ll send a servant to take them.
47
Ph.Nay, ’tis the merest trifle.
Chr. Why, yes: and I’ll call my wife: excuse me, ladies—a moment.
[Goes into house calling.Sostrata, Sostrata!...
Pam. (to Ph.). Follow me quick: this way, before my father is back.
[Exeunt Pam. and Phil. into house at back.
Clin. You know why I am returned?
Ant.Nay, you must tell me first
What made you go away.
Clin.I could not help it, love;
My father—
Ant.O, I know; but is he not kinder now?
Clin. Nay, I’m afraid he is not.
Re-enter Chremes with servant.
620Chr.Ladies, my wife’s within.
She begs you’ll enter. Why! & where is Philolaches?
Clitipho, pray go in—no ceremony, sir—
And take this lady with you. I follow.
[Exeunt Clinia and Antiphila with servant within.
Chr. (to Gorgo). With you I beg one word of explanation alone,
Ere we go in—one word—
Gor.I wait your pleasure, sir.
Chr. I do not wish to seem to meddle in your affairs.
48
Chr.Believe me, that, if I interfere,
It is for your good.
Gor.I know, sir, and thank you very kindly.
Chr. I broach the matter at once; my maxim has always been,
Straight to the business.
Gor.Well, I don’t dislike you for that.
631Chr. Then am I not right in thinking you have never so much as met
Old Menedemus?
Chr.Stay. Perhaps
You don’t know who I mean.
Gor.He’s whatdyecallem’s father.
Chr. (aside). Whatdyecallem! well!—He is Clinia’s father; yes.
Chr.Why ’tis thus. (aside) What was I going to say?
Chr.Ay, the long and the short of the matter is this.
I know your story—let me see—do I know your name?
49
Chr.Ay, to be sure. Well, Gorgo, I know your story,
But do not charge on you the unhappy consequence
640Of a rash attachment. No. Young men will be young men,
And women are—women; no blame to them. But the fact is this:
That being on intimate terms with Clinia’s family,
I have been entrusted by them, as one unprejudiced,
To enquire, to judge & advise, and, if I can, to find
A Modus vivendi: you, Gorgo, of course are well aware
That your lover, whose absence has had no doubt its effect on you—
That Clinia’s running away from home, I say, was due
To his father’s disapproval of your attachment: that
Gave rise to disagreement; and Clinia, balancing
’Twixt love & duty, fled from home, & is now abroad,
Madly risking his life in Asia. Why do you laugh?
Gor. Indeed, sir, I was not laughing.
Chr.The shock this gave his father
Betrayed at last the affection he really bore his son:
It measures too the mischief—shows his purpose too,
And strong determination. He sold his house in town,50
Retired from life & pleasure—bought a farm out here,
And works upon it from morning till night like a common drudge.
There’s nothing to laugh at.
Gor.Excuse me, sir, I was only thinking
Of something very ridiculous.
Chr.Attend. ’Tis you have caused
660This quarrel: you have alienated father and son.
Not only that; but it lies with you, and you alone,
That one is risking his life in wild & barbarous wars,
The other is taking leave of his senses as fast as he can.
Think of this happy family life thus broken up,
Which may be never renewed. Suppose that Clinia
Be slain in the wars, and his father brought by grief to his grave—
Should not this make you serious?
Chr.Your trifling manner, miss,
Causes me much distress.
Gor.I am very nervous, sir,
Your solemn way of talking alarms me, and when alarmed,
I always laugh. He! he! he!
Chr.Well, try and contain yourself, I pray.
671I asked you here to my house the better to judge of you.
51
Chr. Well, well, I see you are merry. I would not check your mirth,
And yet I cannot see what cause you have to laugh.
Still ’tis a feast with us. I bade you join the feast:
Be merry to-day.
Re-enter Pamphilus and Philolaches.
Chr. (aside).By luck, here’s Pamphilus—
(To Gor.) See, here is my son: go in: I’ll speak with you soon again.
Gor. What time do you dine?
Gor.Is the bath made hot?
Chr. (aside).My word!
What a woman!—I’ll call my wife to attend you within.
Gor. I thank you. I’ll take the bath.
Chr. (aside to Pam.). O Pamphilus, Pamphilus,
[Exit Chremes with Gorgo.What have you done? Such a woman as this to dine in my house.
Pam. By jove, Philolaches; here’s a dilemma now:
682I never thought of it.
Pam.Why when, for Clinia’s sake,
We changed the ladies, I quite forgot that I had described
Antiphila to my father. Gorgo will never do.
Pam.Don’t ask. What is to be done? What shall I say?
Pam.My father must never know who Gorgo is.
Pam.What is to be done? What can I say?
Ph.Your father
690Must sooner or later come to learn the ladies were changed.
Pam. To-morrow that will not matter when Gorgo is out of the way.
To-day we must keep up the deception.
Ph.What do you say if I can make your father
Give Gorgo fifty pounds for being so much unlike
The lady he thinks her to be?
Ph.Why, when your father scolds, turn round upon him;
Say you knew all along exactly what he would think,
And brought the lady here in the hope he’d see his way
To helping old Menedemus out of his scrape.
Ph. Tell him to offer Gorgo forty or fifty pounds,
If she will renounce her claim on Clinia.
701Pam.Fifty pounds!
My father give fifty pounds!
Ph.Why, don’t you wish he would?
Pam. And what’s the use of wishing?
Ph. Try it; I’ll help you out. See here he comes.
Chr.Good heavens!
Pamphilus, here’s a sample of manners and good breeding.54
How could you ever have thought of bringing that woman here?
Pam. You said you wanted to see her: I thought you wished her to come.
Chr. When, sir, I blamed your friend, you said I could not judge,
Not having seen the lady. Did I not rightly judge?
Ph. (aside). Tell him you knew. Don’t stand there mum.
710Chr.I am quite ashamed.
Pam. You see then what she is like?
Chr.Of course I see too well.
Pam. I knew, sir, all along exactly what you would think.
Ph. (aside). That’s right.
Chr.And yet you brought her?
Pam.You blame me, sir, too soon:
I have put within your reach the very thing you wished.
Pam. I thought you wished to help Menedemus out.
Pam. Why, sir, we are all agreed the match would never do;55
Then why in the world not put a stopper on it at once?
Chr. I don’t quite see your drift.
Pam.Why, forty or fifty pound
Would settle the matter.
Pam.Just make the offer and see.
Chr. I’m very dull, no doubt.
Ph.If ’twas my place to speak....
Chr. I don’t forbid you, sir.
Ph.Then, sir, I praise the scheme.
Ph.I’ll wager my life he means, this lady here
Has plenty of other lovers; offer her fifty pounds,
If she’ll renounce this one.
Chr.Why, stuff! suppose she did.
She might be off to-day and on again to-morrow:
Besides, against what Clinia’s worth in cash to her,
A fifty pounds is nothing. (To Pam.) If that is all you meant,
You’re a very clever fellow.
730Ph.No doubt there’s nothing in it,
Unless she set her hand to paper.
56
Chr.Would that bind?
How can you think it?
Ph.It might not be binding perhaps on her;
And yet ’twould do the business. If it did not shock
Clinia’s love, as it must, ’twould kill his last pretence.
How could he face his father armed with such a paper?
If you will help this old Menedemus, that’s the way—
Chr. I’ll tell Menedemus of this.
Pam.If you would help him, father,
Spare him the pain. No doubt he’d give you back the money.
Chr. I believe you there. I’d give six times the sum myself,
Were I in his place.
740Ph.I’ve half a mind, if you are afraid,
To do it myself.
Chr.I should not fear to advance the money.
Ph. A poor man might, but you, sir....
Chr.I do not grudge the money.
Ph. A gentleman can’t consider his pocket at every turn.
Chr. Do you think that forty pounds would do it?
Pam.Do it handsomely.57
You say you’d give six times the sum yourself.
Chr.I would.
Ay, Pamphilus, fifty times.
Ph.Then don’t think twice about it.
Chr. I do think twice. (Goes aside.)
Pam.Heads he does, & tails he doesn’t. Heads!
He does.
Ph. And he will. Look at him.
Chr. (aside.)Fifty pounds! A risk.750
No chance of profit; no: nor marketable return.
Yet might it save a thousand. Well saved, is like well spent;
Ay, even though ’tis saved for another: besides I am sure
The money is safe enough. And now I have gone so far
To help Menedemus, I can’t draw back; while if I do it
I certainly win his esteem & thanks. ’Tis very true
That a good turn done to a neighbour is done to oneself: one lives
Within the circle of joy one goes to create! ’Tis wise:58
759And then to have Menedemus my friend! Say forty pounds;
I happen to have it handy. I’ll do it. It shan’t be said,
Chremes is not a gentleman. No, I’ll do it.
Pam.Sir,
Have you decided?
Ph.Bravo!
Will you give us the money now?
Ph.I mean to your son;
To arrange with the lady.
Chr.How so? You seem in a vast hurry.
I manage my own affairs. Besides the forty pounds
Is only a guess. I hope to win the lady for less.
Perhaps you thought that if I gave you the round sum,
I should not enquire for the balance, and you might manage to save
A little commission. No: I manage my own affairs.
770You can’t take Chremes in as easily as all that.
[Exit.
Ph. Ho! ho! ho! ho! What say you!
Ph.Well!59
You wanted a present for Gorgo, you told me. Won’t this do?
Pam. Oh yes! But I am amazed.
Ph.Come, let’s go in and dress.
I hope to bleed Menedemus to better purpose than this.
For after all we shan’t see much of this forty pound;
And as far as I am concerned it’s money thrown away.
[Exeunt.
60
ACT · III
I NEVER saw such a woman; never in all my life.
Upon my word I am sorry for poor Menedemus now:
What would he have done without me? What a predicament!
780Suppose his son had returned, and he with his simple heart
Had given in, and had this woman to live in his house—
Well, thanks to me he is safe. Forty pounds, I think,
Was not so dear a bargain: and yet ’tis a tidy sum.
As much as I should make on a small consignment of sponges:
And that I have paid on risk—although I cannot doubt
But that Menedemus will gladly pay me again—’tis risked.
All for this paper, wherein the lady promises
In consideration of this same money made over to her,61
Never again to receive the addresses of her quondam lover,
790Clinia; signed Gorgo: a genuine business.
And yet no wonder she laughed; of course she thinks me a fool
To consider her promise of weight. Ah, mistress, giggle and all,
I’ve settled your hash. Ha! ha! ’twas clever of Pamphilus:
The lad has some of my wits. But still I shall be uneasy,
Until I find Menedemus is reasonable:—indeed
I’ll lose no time. Menedemus might desire to come
And judge for himself: I’ll press him to do so: ’twere best, and then
He’ll dine with us after all, & I shall dine much better
Myself, I must confess, when I know my money is safe.
[Exit into Menedemus’ garden.
Enter Philolaches and Pamphilus disguised as Persians.
Now don’t you think we are unmistakable Persians, eh?
The essence of Central Asia: I shouldn’t fear to meet
The shade of Themistocles.
62
Ph.Indeed, I’ll bet my life
Your mother would never know you. Is it not a miracle
What these wide snowy trousers & black beards will do?
Pam.It fits like fun.
Have you your tale by heart?
Ph.I shan’t go wrong in that.
You must speak mock high-Persian; as interpreter
I will make sense of nonsense. Be grave too.
808Pam.If I laugh,
I’ve got a pretty good sleeve to laugh in. Let us go.
But stay—which gate shd good true Persians enter by?
In at the garden gate, or round the house to the front?
Ph. Suppose we try the garden. Isn’t this the garden?
Ph. I’ll lead. You know the way too well.
[They go to the garden gate and there meet Chremes
re-entering.
Pam.Gods, here’s my father!
Chr. (aside). Why, who in the name of wonder are these queer foreigners?
Chr.Sir, I do not understand you.
Pam. (to Phil, aside). Tell him we want Menedemus, and get him out of the way.
63
—Mefarim burne sin menedemus ryneas.
Ph. The prince salutes my lord, and asks if here in the earth
Are the thresholds of lord Menedemus.
Chr.Ah, you speak our tongue.
’Tis well. This is his house. What would you with him?
Pam. (to Phil.).Heavens!
What will you say?
821Pam.Aproysi thulnear.
Kekachylos ratulian dricho bresnion oin.
Ph. My lord has bid me say we are Persians, sir, arrived
With tidings to lord Menedemus.
Chr. (aside).Ah! I guessed as much.
This should be news of Clinia: bad news too, I think.
Their Asiatic gravity cannot quite conceal
A strange anxiety. If he’s dead, my money is lost,
My forty pounds all gone. I’ll learn the truth at once—
The news, sir, that ye bring, concerns it the old man’s son?
Ph. (aside). We’re in for it.
Pam. (aside). Put him off. Say we bear secret tidings.— 830
Nuspiol onayrmico.
Ph.My lord, sir, will not speak
64
But only with lord Menedemus.
Chr. (aside). That’s unfortunate.
How shall I find it out? Menedemus is gone from home:
I’m sure he’d wish them to tell me; and ’twould be kindness’ self
Gently to break the news to the poor old man. Suppose
I say that I’m Menedemus. I’m sure that scowling fellow
Would drive him out of his wits with fright. Ay, so I’ll do.—
Sir, tell your master that I’m Menedemus.
Pam. (to Phil.). Ho; the deuce!
What’s to be done?
Ph. (to Pam.). The old liar. It’s all the same in the end.
He’ll tell Menedemus for us. Go on.
840Pam. Vequamiel
Sarepo maneas, camerusyn náslonon.
Ph. I am bid to tell thee, sir, the news is of thy son.
Pam. (aside). Now must my father
Act for himself. He’ll not discover me.
Chr. I pray,65
Tell me the worst. I am not entirely unprepared.
Conceal nothing.
Pam. Bios emelto ormimos
Nasephon feldido bo Chrysnotaparoys.
Ph. Clinia, thy son, was slain in battle by the prince
Nasephon on the plains Of Chrysnotaparoys.
Chr. (aside). My money is paid for nothing: how very provoking! But now850
I must not forget the part I am playing. I must affect
In some degree the sorrow which Menedemus would feel.—
Alas, my dear son, ah, alas, my dear son, slain,
Slain dead upon the plains of . . .
Chr. Of Chrysnotaparoys. Alas! how was he slain?
Ph. My master now will tell.
Ph. They pierced him through with spears.
Ph.They cut off his head.
Pam.Vem dreschim pailekin.
Ph. They tore him limb from limb.
Chr.Alas, my son! no hope.—
(Aside.) I don’t know what to say.—Barbarian beasts!
Ph.Oh, sir!66
Wreak not thy wrath on us, the unwilling messengers
Of mournful tidings.
Chr.Pray don’t take me now for a fool:
I perfectly understand, that my obligation to you
Is as great as if the news you brought was good. Go on.
Pardon the hasty expression that burst from me in my woe.
If yet there is more, don’t scruple to tell it.
Pam. Catros
Uscorino fricosan non.
Ph.They flayed him alive.
Pam. (aside to Phil.). You’ve killed him twice.
Ph. (aside to Pam.). Give me a long one now.—
Pam. Permason cralti abritheos nasolion,
Ilno synorpin mudi.
Ph.Ere he died, thy son
870Sent thee a message, sir. There lives in the town hard by
A poor old widow woman from Corinth . . .
Chr.I know. Her daughter
My son fell madly in love with, was even on the point to marry.
’Twould never have done: she was not at all the sort of woman.67
Tell me, sirs, when you came.
Ph.Our ship arrived this morning;
And since we sail to-night, ’twill save thee needless trouble
To make thy gift to the prince my master here at once,
According to Persian custom.
Chr.Ask you for money, sir?
Ph. That is the Persian custom.
Chr. (aside). Most annoying this!—
Sir, I will send it you.
Ph.We would not trouble thee:
We’ll wait, sir, while thou fetchest it.
Chr. (aside).What in the world to do?
881These Persians have an uncommon sharp eye to the main chance:
I’ll try one piece of gold if ’twill content him.—Sir,
Give this then to your master.
Ph.It will not satisfy him.
For he is a potentate: but I will obey thee, sir.
Pam. Tartys chribos! (Puts hand on sword.)
Ph.See, sir, he doth not like it.
Chr.Well,
I am but a poor man, but what is right I’ll do.
Look! here are four more pieces, and that is all I have.
And pray consider, sirs, the mournful news you bring68
Cannot be held of value, as joyful tidings might.
(Gives.)
(Aside.) I hope this may content them: ’tis not much. Menedemus890
Will after all be spared the expense of a funeral.
Ph.Sir, he is still but ill contented.
Chr. Then wait, sirs. I’ll go in and fetch you what I may.
Ph. We will await thee here.
[Exit.Chr. (aside). I’ll go and find Menedemus.
Ph. Now let’s be off at once.
Pam.What sport! O gods! five pounds!
He never made me so handsome a present in all my life.
I’ve tried all kinds of dodges to screw coin out of him,
But I never could: and you’ve come round him twice to-day.
I’ll arrange with you for some more adventures of this sort.
899Ph.Stay,
Half this is mine.
Enter Menedemus at back unperceived: he watches them.
Ph.What made your governor
Tell all those lies?
69
Ph.Why should he pretend
To be Menedemus?
Pam.Merely to meddle: besides no doubt
He was anxious about the money we cheated him of this morning;
He wishes now he was off his bargain with Gorgo.
Ph.Ay.
He gave you a blessing this morning.
Pam.May the gods bless him.
I love him at this moment.
Ph.Come, we must be gone.
Pam. Hercules! there is old Menedemus himself.
Make haste!
I hope he has not overheard us.
Ph.March by in good style.
910Chrysnotaparoys! Whatever jargon is this?
Queer-looking fellows too to be prowling about my house,
And talking of me. Some maskers my neighbour Chremes hires70
To honour the Feast of Bacchus. A stupid, vulgar fashion,
This orientalising, in great vogue too, and still
Gains ground, I fear; and this is one of the gaudy-days.
’Tis well I did not accept his invitation to dine.
Mummery and tomfoolery! Alas, I have been all day
More nervous and anxious than ever. I even thought this morning
I heard my poor son’s voice: so certain I was that I ran
To the end of the garden and looked.—Surely I was either born920
With a mind most singularly sensible of grief, or else
The saying is not true that time is sorrow’s cure.
My sorrow rather increases upon me every day,
And the longer he is away the more do I yearn for him,
And miss him.
Re-enter Chremes from Menedemus’ house.
Chr. (aside). Why here he is, just when I’d given him up.—
O Menedemus!
Men. You frighten me, Chremes.
Chr.I’ve sought you everywhere.
Men. I had to go in the town. Is anything wrong?
71
Chr.I came
To tell you how I had done you a service; light of heart.
930Because I had done you a service, knew you must approve,
And did not doubt that you would repay me a little sum
That I ventured on your behalf.
Men.Certainly, Chremes; well?
Chr. I knew you would, but still I came to explain at once.
I sought for you in your garden in vain; and coming out,
Intending to go to your house, just as I opened the gate,
Just here, I met two foreigners strangely dressed.
Men.A moment ago. Who are they?
Chr.The elder one
Addressed me in Persian.
Men.In Persian, did he? What did he say?
Chr. I’ll tell you. When they saw me at your gate, coming out,
They thought most naturally that I was you.
Chr. I did not undeceive them.
Men.They thought that you were me?
72
Men. I have little doubt but that they are revellers,
Who knowing what you, Chremes, would call my folly, came
To play some practical joke. They said they were Persians?
Men. With news of Clinia?
Men.This sort of impertinence
Provokes me, Chremes; ’tis want of respect. Suppose I am
Somewhat old-fashioned, yet to be idly trifled with,
In a matter in which I feel so deeply . . .
Chr.Pray heaven you are right.
I did suspect them myself at first: but when they spoke . . .
950Men.You need not fear.
Chr. They said your son was dead. They saw him killed by a prince,
In a battle at Chrysno . . . Chrysno . . .
Chr. Ha! is it a famous place?
Men.I never heard of it, Chremes.
73
Chr. Then how did you know?
Men.They were talking together as I came in.
Chr. That should convince you, and then the dying message he sent.
Chr.The tale you know. The old Corinthian widow,
Whose daughter he was in love with . . .
Men.Did they say, may I ask,
All this in Persian?
Chr.One did: yes—but I confess,
959That in spite of a few expressions I was able to understand,
I had to trust very much to the one that interpreted.
Men. But him I should understand?
Chr.I don’t say but what you might.
Men. It’s forty years since I was in Persia: but this I know,
That is not a Persian dress, and I think I ought to remember
At least the sound of the language. If you could find these men
And send them to me . . .
Chr.I will. They promised to wait for me.
They’re not far off: I’ll fetch them at once.
Men.Stay! ere you go—74
I wanted to tell you, Chremes, I have quite made up my mind
Concerning the girl: my duty is plain enough.
969Men. To adopt her: for if my son returns, to find her here
Under my care, protected & loved as I shall love her,
Will be a bond between us to make him forget the past,
My harshness and all; while should he be killed or die abroad,—
Which God forbid—or never return, I have then no heir,
And the only consolation remaining to me in the world
Is the loving her, whom he would have made my daughter, and whom
I shall love like him.
Chr.I shall convince you
That you will do nothing of the sort.
Chr.You wouldn’t ask,
If you only knew what a creature she is.
Men. But how? You never told me.
Chr.She is spending the day at my house.
980’Twas this I was coming to tell you about, but the other matter
Had driven it out of my head. I thought to discover for you
(Seeing you did not know) what kind of person she was;
That I might judge and tell you, whether you most were wrong
In being at first so harsh to your son, or now to yourself.
So I asked her to spend the day at my house. It has ended in this,
That when I saw what kind of woman she really was,
I offered her forty pounds if she would renounce your son.
Believe me, she jumped at the bargain; so then, to prevent mistake,
I made her sign a paper to that effect. I hold it.
It cost me forty pounds; and that’s the money I said,
991That I had advanced for you.
Men.’Twas very kind of you, Chremes.
You see I am shocked.
Chr.Nay, don’t give way.
76
Men.You have dashed my hope.
I was not prepared for this. Freeborn I knew she was not;
But this I never suspected.
Chr.Come to my house and see.
I wish you to judge for yourself.
Chr.She is there, do you ask?
Ay, to my cost she is there. No sooner she comes to the door,
Than all is to be topsy-turvy. She calls me ‘old man!’
Asks if the bath is ready, and presently calls for wine.
She’ll take a ‘whetting brusher,’ she says. The quantity
1000She wasted in merely tasting was more than most men drink.
She kept me an hour on my legs before she was pleased, and then
Drank like a fish, & laughed at nothing & everything.
Had it not been for you, Menedemus, I promise you
I could not have stood it.
Men.I feel extremely obliged to you,
And sorry for this. You have been most friendly in all you have done.
I cannot doubt you are right. But still whatever she is,77
I’d like to see her once. I can’t dine with you;—arrange
To send her across to me. Explain to her who I am;
And let me judge for myself if it is so impossible
To carry out my former intention as you believe.
1011Chr. By all means. I shall be glad enough to be rid of her.
I go at once.
Men.And find those Persians, whoever they are.
Chr. Indeed I must. For either I was grossly deceived
In a manner I cannot believe—I gave them money too—
Or else—
Men.Well, lose no time, I pray: I am less at ease
In the matter now, than when you told me first.
Chr.Indeed
I fear you have cause: I’ll go at once. Farewell.
[Exit.
Men.Farewell.
A silly hoax no doubt. I wish ’twere half as likely
1019That Chremes was wrong about the girl. ’Tis very strange
That he should suddenly take such an active interest
In my affairs. I think he’s a little meddlesome,78
With all his kindness and thought. But that’s the way of the world.
[Exit.
Re-enter Chremes and Pamphilus.
Chr. See Gorgo at once, I say, and get it back if you can.
Chr.I’ll tell you. Clinia your friend is dead.
Chr.No. I have seen two Persians just arrived,
Who say he was slain in battle.
Pam.Does old Menedemus know?
Pam.And how does he take it?
Chr.Why? How should he take it?
Pam. How should I know? The cross old hunks.
Chr.Stop! Pamphilus.
1029You wrong him; he’s distracted: and now in consequence,
He has made up his mind to adopt that woman.
Chr.Yes.
How can you laugh?
Pam.Well, if he adopts her, what’s the use
Of asking her for the money now? Menedemus will pay.
79
Chr. You do, please, as I say. Of course it’s impossible
To adopt her: I intimated to him as much, but still
He wants to judge for himself. I promised to send her tó him.
As soon as the ladies return from the bath explain this tó her.
And take her across; at least if I’m not back from town.
Chr.I have promised to bring these Persians back;
1039We wish to establish the news they brought. They half engaged
To await me here, but it seems they are gone.
Chr. Ay, ay. Yet no. (aside) Nay, I shall have to explain to them
That I am not Menedemus,—I fear I must go myself.
I think I shall not be long. You do as I told you, please;
And tell your mother where I am gone.
Pam.I hope you’ll find them.
[Exit.Chr. I shan’t come back without ’em.
Pam. (aside).Good-bye then, dad, for ever!
80
ACT · IV
PAMPHILUS and CLINIA.
PAMPHILUS.
’TIS simply ruin, Clinia; pray come back at once.
Do wait till after dinner.
Pam.The governor
Will smoke it all if you go: ’twill break our party up.
Clin. My father thinks I am killed.
Pam.What matter so you’re not?
1050Clin. He’ll be so grieved. Indeed I can’t consider your party.
Pam. You’re most ungrateful.
Clin.Nay indeed, good Pamphilus,
I am much obliged for all your kindness; I say so again.
But this I told you expressly I did not wish.
Pam.You’ve got
More than you ever hoped. Antiphila here: your father81
Brought nicely round: and all through my good management.
And now you’ll throw me over for want of a little patience.
Clin. To be free with you, I do not like being half drawn in, as I am,
To tricking your father of fifty pounds. Besides I am here
Under a false name, as his guest. Antiphila too
Is passing off for somebody else, I know not who;
1061While you and Philolaches have deceived your father and mine,
In a way that I cannot be party to.
Pam.Wait. Here comes my father.
I’ll show you now what kind of a temper I risk for you.
Wheu! back at last. Wheu, wheu! my word! as hot as hot!
Wheu! bah! and all this worry and flurry for nothing: wheu!
I am covered and choked with dust. I wish most heartily
These Persians had found their grave at Chrysnotaparoys.82
I vow that the famous army of Darius never gave
Such trouble to brave Miltiades at Marathon,
1070As these two rascally slinkers have given to me. Wheu! Wheu!
Pam. (advancing). Have you not found them, father?
Chr.If I have found them? No.
I went to the port; the ship I found there sure enough,
But I could not hear of them. A single passenger,
They said, had landed; and he was a Greek. I enquired besides
At all the houses along the road: there was not a man,
Who had even so much as seen them.
Sostrata (within).Chremes! Chremes!
Enter Sostrata from Chremes’ house.
Sost.She is found, she is found!
Sost.Our daughter, our long-lost daughter is found.
Sost. Look! this is the necklace, this the ring.
Chr.Why, what d’ye mean?
83
1080Sost. See, husband, if you remember them; they are the very same
Our daughter Antiphila wore, the day she was stolen.
Sost.I knew them at once.
Chr.Then tell me at once, whén,
How, and where did you find them?
Sost.The girl that Gorgo brought
Wore them. I knew them at once: and when I heard her name....
Chr.Quite so. You heard the name;
That made you think this girl our daughter: I’ll wager my life
She’s no such thing. ’Tis unsupposable.
Sost.Dearest husband,
I always knew we should find her. I’ve said so a thousand times.
1089Chr. Oh yes! you always knew beforehand of everything
After it happened, wife: there’s nothing could occur
But you would tell me you told me before. And yet this time84
Do not be wise too soon.
Sost.Why, here’s the ring itself,
The necklace and the name.
Chr.The name is a common name,
And rings and necklaces too are made so much alike,
They’re nothing to go by.
Sost.Then I have spoken to her, Chremes,
And she is so like her:—
Chr.Hey! here’s fine proof indeed;
Just think for once now what you have said. You recognize
In a grown-up lady, you say, the baby you have never seen
Since she was three! Why, even supposing she was not changed
In all these fifteen years, could you remember her
So long?
1101Sost. But she is my daughter: that makes the difference.
Chr. Why, that’s the very question. Is she? And if she was,
What difference could it make? But if you have spoken with her,
Where does she say she comes from?
Sost.She says she lives in the town
With an old Corinthian widow . . .
85
I know: the mother of Gorgo.
They live together, do they? Then just send Gorgo here.
Sost. Indeed she has nothing to do with Gorgo.
Chr.According to that
There are two Corinthian widows.
Chr.Why not? I suppose
There must be two, unless it’s the same.
Sost.But who is the other?
1110Chr. There isn’t another at all. Bring Gorgo here at once.
She’ll know enough of the facts to set this matter at rest.
Sost.I assure you, Chremes dear . . .
Chr. Do go and fetch her, wife.
Sost.Well, as you will....
Chr.Of course.
Dó I ever express an opinion, issue a command,
Without an ample reason? (Exit Sostrata.)
’Twould be strange!—(To Pam.) Now, sir,
Had you not heard of this?
Chr.And there you stand,86
As dull as a fish! Why, what will you think, if this be true,
Of finding a sister?
Pam.Sir, you wished me a happy day:
As nothing was more unlooked for, nothing is happier
In the world than this.
Chr.Yet there’s your friend, a perfect stranger.
1121Is far more moved than you. You go to the play, I know:
Fifty per cent. of all our Attic comedies
Have this same plot, a daughter stolen in early years,
Lost sight of, despaired of, almost forgotten, and then at last,
When least expected—although there’s scarce a soul in the house
That does not know or guess it beforehand—she reappears.
Then are not all eyes wet? Why, that’s the poetic art,
Which makes emotion, and sells it to fools at market price.
You have pitied the child, have pictured the thousand possible ills
1130She may have encountered, hardships of body and mind, neglect,
The injuries and privations of slavery, wrongs and blows;87
The lack of all that care, to which, in a mother’s love,
The meanest birth is titled, without which even brutes
Perish for lack of instinct: the tenderness of sex
You have thought of; her innocence, the snares of a merciless world
For the unprotected, and then this picture you contrast
With the comfortable, gentéel hóme the scene presents.
You feel for the parents then—ay, tho’ some ridicule
Be fastened upon them; ’tis by such touches of flesh and blood
1140The life comes home to your heart, and while you are made to smile,
You weep. You have paid for the tear, or if your false shame
Forbids you to shew your feeling, you’ve bought a lump in the throat.
You praise the play, because ’tis a tender situation.
Enough to stir the blood of a crocodile like yourself:
I catch you weeping—slap! all’s changed. ’Tis not a play:
The stage is yóur hóme, the actors your father and mother,
Your own sister is found, & where’s your feeling now?
I think your heart is made of matting! Your friend, I say,
Is far more moved: I see the tears stand in his eyes.
88
1150Clin. ’Tis joy. I wish you joy, sir. I wish your daughter joy.
And, may I say it, your happiness brings happiness to me.
Chr. I thank you, Clitipho; but now we go too fast:
Because I don’t at all suppose this is my daughter.
Ho! Gorgo! where’s Gorgo? (Goes to door.)
Clin. (to Pam.).O Pamphilus, I am in heaven:
For if Antiphila really be your sister, then
My father cannot oppose our marriage.
Pam.No more will mine.
’Twill make him as proud as a peacock.
Pam. Quite so: but what in the world do you think will happen to me,
When he finds out?
Clin.Oh, I have attained the life of the gods!
1160Pam. Go on. You will not tell me now I have done too much?
Clin. Oh no: I forgive it all.
Pam. I shall need more than thanks.
Clin.O Pamphilus, anything.
What can I give you?
Pam.Listen. If things go well with you,89
They’re not so smart with me: and if you wish to help me,
I only see one hope.
Pam.That you should win
Your father to plead for me: after all I have done for him,
I think he might: and if you ask him, I am sure he will.
Concealment is out of the question: go to him now at once,
And tell him all.
Clin.Indeed I was going; but may I not see
Antiphila first?
Pam.No, no, there’s not a moment to lose.
The governor will be back, and if he finds you out,
1172You’ll have to go to your father with him, and what a tale
He’ll tell it’s easy to guess.
Clin.I would not consent to that.
I’ll go at once.
Pam.Go quickly, before Gorgo comes.
[Exit Clinia.Quick! Quick!
And just in time. I wonder what she will say.
Chr. (at the door to Gorgo). I want you a moment, Gorgo.
90
Enter Gorgo with Sostrata.
Prithee, be so good
As just to answer my questions. This girl Antiphila
Who came with you, is your maid? Don’t look at my son and laugh.
I am serious. Is this girl your servant?
Chr.She is not?
She lives with you?
Chr. I thought you lived with the widow woman,
1181Who came from Corinth. Pray be sober. I want to know.
You told me you did.
Chr.And yet Antiphila
Does not live with you?
Chr.When did you see her first?
Chr.Indeed. And can you tell me nothing about her?
Chr.I thank you. I’ve nothing to ask you then.
91
Gor. It’s thank you for nothing, sir! No further commands at present?
Chr. Peace, prithee, peace!
(To Sostrata.) Now, wife, you see I was right for once.
Gorgo knows nothing about her.
Sost.I told you she didn’t, Chremes.
1189Chr. But then you said she lived with the widow. You see she doesn’t,
And Gorgo does.
Sost.I can’t believe it. Antiphila told me
The widow’s name; and then the very clothes she wore
The day she was stolen, she has laid by.
Chr.Eh! said she so?
Then you should have sent for the woman, told her to bring the clothes.
Sost. So, Chremes, I did, but the poor old lady’s too ill to come:
But the clothes were sent. I have seen them.
Chr.And are they the same?
Chr. Why then did you not spare me all this trouble, wife?
Why did you not tell me before of the clothes?
Chr. Not hear! when all the time I was asking you this and that.92
Ye gods! have ye never made one reasonable woman?
1200Don’t you see that the clothes are the chiefest matter of all?
Why, they’re a proof.
Sost.Then do you believe?
Chr.Ay, wife, come in.
I think we have found our daughter.
[Exeunt Sost. and Chr.Gor. Oho! ho! ho!
O he does make me laugh.
And when he finds all out, the silly old man, at last,
How I shall love to see him!
Pam.Indeed you must not stay.
Pam.Why, don’t you see how mad he’ll be?
Pam. He’ll want that forty pounds.
Pam.I am afraid
You cannot keep it.
Gor.I not keep it? What! d’ye think
I’d give it him back?
Pam.I think you had better make sure of it.
Take my advice and go.
Gor.I am sorry to go, and yet
What should I stay for now? There’ll be no dinner.
1210Pam.No,93
That there won’t.
Gor.Well, make my excuses, & give your father
My kind congratulations.
Gor.With the same to you.
Antiphila’s quite a dove.
Gor.Good-bye, my lad.
It’s wisest to go, I see: but if the old man should ask
Where I am gone to . . .
Gor.Why, tell him I’m gone to spend
[Exit.His forty pounds in the town. Ta ta!
Pam.I think that woman
Has done for me. Thank the gods she’s gone, and just in time;
Here somebody comes from the house.
Enter Philolaches from Chremes’ house.
Look out, Pamphilus!
Your father is coming after you.
Pam.He has found us out of course?
1220Ph. He has guessed who Gorgo is; but still is quite in the dark.
He still imagines Clinia slain and torn to bits94
On the plains of what d’ye call it.—
Ph. Nothing. Let him rave it out. The quicker he heats,
The quicker he’ll cool.
Pam.But if you had ever seen him angry . . .
Ph.Throw all the blame on me.
Re-enter Chremes, speaking as he comes out to Sostrata
within.
Chr.It’s high time, wife, you stopped this precious noise,
Deafening the gods with singing all your confounded praises
For finding your daughter. You judge them by yourself perhaps,
And think they can’t understand a simple thing, unless
It’s told them a hundred times.
(To Pam.) Now, sir, ’tis you I want.1230
Come here.
Chr. What, father? As innocent95
As milk, no doubt. You think it’s possible I do not know?
I’ll tell you what: to-day I have found a daughter, sir,
And lost a son. Begone and take your Gorgo with you:
For I’ll not own you longer. Be off! Go where you will:
But see you ne’er set foot beneath my roof again.
Pam. Father, what do you mean? What have I done?
Chr.You dare
Ask! If I tell you now that you are a reprobate,
An idle, dissipated, licentious, spendthrift fellow:—
Is that enough?
1240Chr.Or if I add the rest,
A mean, deceitful, undutiful, snivelling, sneaking cheat;
A liar.
Chr.Well, you deny it, do you?
I’ll ask you is this true or not. You found that I,
With a view to help our neighbour, wished to see the girl
That got his son into trouble. You undertook to bring her.96
I trusted you wholly, could not expect to be played on bý you;
You knew her, and I did not, had never heard her name;
And this you knew, and took occasion to introduce
A different person altogether, a friend of your own,
1250A woman whose very presence was an insult; and not content
With abusing my confidence & kindness, my sheer disgust
You turned to your own account, and so, on a mock pretence
Of doing my neighbour a wonderful service, made me pay
I don’t know what. You blinded me, and robbed me, and all the while
’Twas yóur víle místress I was entertaining for you,
And paying out of my pocket for nothing. Is that not true?
Was it not enough to have this creature sit down to dine
With your mother and me? ay, and with your sister? and as for her,
Yóu have been the means of aspersing her character,
The day when she is restored to the family. Yes, ’tis she 126097
Is the lady in question, and I have been running here and there
To diffame my own daughter to my neighbour, and thanks to you
Have been a pretty fool! And if his son returns,—
For now I am so confused that whether he’s living or dead
I have not a notion,—but if, I say, he should return,
And ask Antiphila’s hand, would then Menedemus believe
That I did not tell him the truth before I knew any cause
To wish for one thing more than another? I say be off!
Ask me what you’ve done? A treasure of innocence
You are! Begone! I’ll never see you again. Begone!
1271Ph. For patience’ sake, one word from me, sir! Pamphilus
Was not so much in fault; I am the one to blame:
He truly intended to introduce Antiphila;
And I was sent to fetch her: but when it appeared her friends
Would not consent to allow that you should interfere
Between Menedemus and her, then, on the spur of the moment,
The ladies were changed, & that at my suggestion, sir.
98
Chr. I interfere, you say? ’Tis you that interfere,
I think. Pray hold your tongue; or if you wish to advise,
Advise your friend again: he needs it more than I;
1281Maybe he’ll thank you for it. I neither ask nor want it.
(To Pam.) To you, sir, I have no more to add. Begone at once!
’Twill spare your sister pain, if she shd never know you;
Not that there’s aught to lose. Now, if there is anything
You want in the house, go in at once and fetch it. Look,
I’ll give you half an hour.
Sost.Chremes, what are you saying?
Chr. I have only said, wife, what I told you; and you may now
Bid your dear Pamphilus good-bye.
Sost.How cruel you are!
1289Do you wish to kill your son? You’ll certainly be his death,
Unless you mind. I wonder how anything so wicked
Could have come into your head.
Chr.Oh, will you never learn99
To keep your place, woman? Was there ever a thing
Which I ever proposed or did in my whole life, in which
You did not go against me? But shd I ask you now
What wrong I am doing, or why I do the thing I do,
You would not know: you could not tell me anything
Of the matter in which so confidently you oppose me. Fool!
Chr.Well, well, you do know. Anything
Rather than have it all over again.
Sost.How iniquitous of you,
To prevent my speaking in such a matter!
1300Chr.I don’t prevent you.
[Exit.Go on! Talk yourself hoarse.
Pam.Mother, what shall I do?
Pam.He says he disowns me.
Sost.Don’t give way.
He is angry now: I know he’ll soon be kind again.
Ph. Quite so, madam; a father’s threats are nothing to fear.
Pam. I am glad you think so.
Ph.Don’t be angry with me, Pam!
I’ve got you into a mess, but if you’ll trust to me,
I’ll get you out.
Sost.How kind of you, Mr. Philogelos!
100
Ph. Take my advice and hide. Pretend you have run away.
I’ll say you’ve sailed to the Persian wars in Clinia’s ship.
And when your father finds that Clinia is safe, and he
1311Demands Antiphila’s hand, the rest will be all forgotten.
Sost. Is Antiphila to marry Clinia?
Sost.Menedemus’ son,
That ran away?
Sost.Why, Chremes said he was killed.
Ph. It’s all a mistake; you’ve spoken to him to-day yourself:
He is Clitipho.
Sost.O dear! I must tell Chremes this.
How glad I am!
Ph.Stay, madam, stay; I pray you won’t.
Your husband will find that out quite soon enough for us.
Far better see Menedemus, if he will help us out.
Ph.He’ll stand our friend. How could he wish
1320To see Antiphila’s brother driven disgraced from home?
101
Sost. Go, Pamphilus, go at once!
Pam.Clinia is there; I will.
Sost. And can I then tell Chremes?
Ph.Madam, consider this:
He won’t believe you, and after will only be angry with you
For knowing it first, and being in the right when he was wrong.
Sost. ’Tis all so strange, that really and truly I don’t suppose
That any one would believe it. It may be best to wait.
But you should waste no time, Pamphilus; go at once.
Pam. I go, but do not tell him where I am gone.
[Exit Pam.Sost.No, son.
I’ll do my best to win him. (To Ph.) I thank you, sir, very kindly.
[Exit Sostrata.Ph. I wish you good success.
1330A sensible body. I lean
On her and old Menedemus. Not that I doubt myself;
I know a stroke to play: is’t not the feast of Bacchus?
I will invoke the god; his genius will confound
This dull, contrary Chremes. What’s his humour worth
To gods or men, that I should bow to it? Nay, & since
Whate’er the humour be, ’tis the persistency102
That carries it, to hell with dumps! ’Twere póor mérriment
1338That Chremes’ frown could dash. Why, if there be a choice
’Twixt Chremes pleased and Chremes angry, of the two
This latter, angry Chremes is the more ridiculous.
103
ACT · V
MENEDEMUS and CLINIA.
MENEDEMUS.
YOU have made me, my dear Clinia, the very happiest of fathers,
By this return to your senses; indeed I ran great risk
Of taking leave of my own: but since I have you back,
’Tis nothing but happiness: and gladly I now consent
To the match, which hitherto in your own interest
I have only opposed because I would not have you marry
A woman not freeborn. To be sure I cd have wished
’Twas somebody else’s daughter than Chremes’. After all
It might be worse. But are you sure you hold to it still,
And wish to marry her?
1350I, father? How can you ask?
Men. You are young to marry; but, mind, I should not make your age
An objection, provided I thought you knew what marriage is.104
But do you, can you know? You have only experience
Of childhood, and some few years of youthful liberty:
What can thát teach? Your tie to me, your friendships,—
Some intimate friendships too: but nothing here nor there
Comparable to the bond of marriage. Suppose I say
’Tis, next to existence, the most familiar thing in the world:—1358
Then judge how jealous pride & self-regard should be,
Ere they admit this master circumstance to rule,
As rule it must. You know the story Plato tells
Of Er, the Armenian soldier, & what he saw in death,
Permitted to stand between the gates of heaven and hell;
How there he saw the souls, who, ere they came on earth,
Were choosing each their lives in turn—and, what was strange,
How wantonly and without deliberation they chose,
Making a rush at what they fancied first: and this,
So Plato said, explained man’s discontent on earth,
His misery being his fault. All wh, be it fable or no,
Clinia, has this much truth; that you may see the like
Without going down to the grave, nor any revelation
Of nature’s secrecies—but every day on earth, 1372105
In men that wive. With them the stake is no less great;
Their carelessness in choice, their after-discontent
Match each in kind. Now I would play the interpreter
To you, as some celestial did to Er: I warn you,
Take not this step in haste. You choose a second being:
The lives are strewn before you: is this the best to take?
Clin. O if you knew Antiphila, father, you would not ask.
1380Men. Very well. I see your choice is made. I only wish
She did not drink.
Men.Yes, yes. I know.
What a number of sad mistakes Chremes has made to-day!
He has not discovered yet who the two Persians were,
Who came to frighten me.
Clin.I hope I need not tell you, father,
I never wished that done. I feared you might be grieved:
But Chremes being so sure you never would forgive me . . .
106
Clin.He said you told him.
Men.Did he? He has been to blame.
There’s much he will have to explain to me, which he will not wish
Another to hear. Retire to the garden, while I go
1390And smooth things over with him, and ask his daughter’s hand.
Men.Well, if I send, be ready at once to come:
And see that Pamphilus too is handy: explain to him,
That if I can be happy enough to make his peace with his father,
His presence will then be needed.
[Exit.Clin.I hope it will not be long.
Men. I am not very wise myself or clever, that I know:
And I may have behaved in a manner open to criticism,
I may have even provoked derision, that may be;
I think I have. But this same would-be helper of mine,
1399My counsellor and guide, Chremes, is very far beyond me.
I never did anything half so foolish in all my life
As to trust my secrets to him. In time now; here he comes.
107
Ah, my good Menedemus, now I have news indeed.
Men. I know it, Chremes, and give you my hearty congratulations.
’Tis a happy day for us both: for you have found a daughter,
And I . . .
Chr.You know it already? Who told you?
Men. Clinia. Yes. He is in my house. I was coming across
To ask you to join your treasure so newly found with mine:
And to give your daughter to-day to my son in marriage.
Chr.Well!
I cannot understand it. Where did he come from? When?
1410Men. Why, that’s the strangest of all: he landed only this morning,
Met your son in the town; & has been in yóur house
Ever since.
Men.It seems your son is a friend of his:
He introduced him, but under another name, because
He did not wish to be known.
Chr. There then! O how I have been deceived! And you were right
About the Persians too: they were a make-believe.
Men. So I guessed all along, Chremes.
Chr.But who then were they?
Men. Forgive me, my good friend, I ask you once for all,
1419The annoyance my family affairs have been to you to-day.
Your kindness has brought you only vexation.
Chr.O, I am sure
You are welcome enough to any service that I can render.
Men. Then pray oblige me in this, and overlook the folly
Of the actors in thís fárce. The intention was to deceive
Me and not you: till you accidentally, as it seems,
Came in their way: and then they could not help themselves:
They even tried to avoid you.
109
Men.Remember too
’Tis the feast of Bacchus to-day, ’tis not so great a crime
To droll on a private person, at a time that is set apart
For mirth and jollity, and when buffoonery too makes up
A part of the festival.
1430Chr.I think no gentleman
Should suffer buffoonery to cover an insult.
Men.Supposing not,
Yet none was intended.
Men.The deceit was planned for me,
And I forgive it.
Men.They came from yóur house.
Men.No; although it was done in his interest.
Your son was one, and a friend . . .
Chr.I know: Philolaches.
I see.
Men. It seems they had drawn from you, I know not how,
Somewhat too harsh a picture of me: so ’twas resolved
To put me to proof.
110
Chr.Menedemus, since ’twas my own son,
It does not matter; for now my account with him is closed.
1440Chr.Well, never mind. He is now no more my son.
O Menedemus, indeed he has treated me shamefully.
This morning I thought your son had acted ill by you:
How willingly now I’d change.
Men.You make too much of it.
No harm was meant; and none has been done: a foolish hoax,
And nothing more.
Chr.You cannot hope to persuade me now
There is any excuse for a son deceiving his own father.
Men. I think a father would find one, Chremes, where there was none.
Chr. Nay, nay: no more of him. I understand you came
About my daughter.
Men.I did. Clinia asks her hand.
Chr. You know she is not that woman they made me think....
Chr. Menedemus, I never wished to have a daughter. I thought111
A girl was a burden, the worst possession a man could have;
Costly to rear, costly to keep, costly to get rid of.
It seems I was wrong. I have had a daughter, who from her cradle
Has never cost me a single penny, and the very hour
She is thrown on my hands, she has offers of marriage. ’Tis not for me
To hinder the kindness of heaven. You are welcome to take her. Yet
I have one condition: the dowry.
Men.Certainly: about that
1459We shall not quarrel however. My son will be rich: and you
Will give as you think is fit.
Chr.I still shall insist on terms.
You will not oppose a project of mine?
Men.I promise not;
Consider it settled: & now let us put the business off,
And bring the two young lovers happily face to face.
I long to see Antiphila.
Chr.Wait. I’ll call my wife,[Goes to L.
And tell her to bring her out.
Men.And I will call my son.[Goes to R.
(Calling) Clinia!
112
Men.Come! Is Pamphilus there?
Enter Sostrata and Antiphila.
Chr.See here, Menedemus, my daughter.
Men.And mine.
My dear Antiphila, I fear you have heard hard tales of me:
I have therefore the greater pleasure in bringing you, now we meet,
1470The joy I have stood in the way of. I have asked your good father
To grant your hand to my son in marriage: he has consented.
See, here is Clinia. Let me join your hands—for ever.
Be happy.
(Aside.) The dear old man; see how he weeps for joy.
Chr. You will not deny me now, Menedemus, I’m sure: you’ll come
And spend what is left of the day at my house. You will dine with us?
113
Men. With all my heart. You have not presented me to your wife.
I beg....
Chr. Come, Sostrata, come & make your compliments
To our new relation.
Sost.O sir, I am glad
My Antiphila will have your son for a husband.
Men.I am very proud
Of such a daughter-in-law. But now, if I may ask,
1481Where is your son Pamphilus? He should not be absent now.
Sost.I beseech you speak with my husband, sir.
Chr. I beg, Menedemus, you’ll say no more. I have cast him off.
Men. I still shall venture to plead his forgiveness.
Chr.’Tis too late.
I have sent him off already: he is gone.
Men.Not so: he is here.
(Calls) Pamphilus! (To Chremes) Do not blame me; I promised to plead for him.
Chr. How dare you again appear in my presence, wretch? Be off!114
I tell you that I disown you. Yes, Menedemus, & you
Will not attempt, I beg, to avert the punishment
1490He more than deserves. I have cast him away and cut him off.
My whole fortune I leave to Antiphila—that is the thing
I said I shd ask—you promised not to oppose me: now
I beg you will not.
Men.Consider if you are wise.
Sost. O you are very unwise!
Sost.Why, he is your son!
Chr. Extremely kind of you to say so! there’s not a doubt in the world
He is yours: but were I you, I shd not be very vain,
Being mirrored in such a cub.
Sost.O Chremes, your own son!
Chr. Not were he twice my son, and sprung from my head, as they say
Minerva was from Jove’s, would I own him.
Consider, sir,
1500My mother’s feelings, although you do not consider me.
115
Chr. I do not consider you, sir? In all I have done,
I have kept You and your follies in view: considering what you are,
I thought you would rather think I considered you too much.
I consider you reckless, sir; I consider that you pursue
Your pleasure and vulgar tastes. I consider you quite unfit
To be trusted with money, and so I have hit on a plan, by which
You’ll be, I consider, spared the trouble of managing it;
And though not launched on the world as I’d wish to see my son,
You’ll be, I consider, ensured from absolute destitution.
1510Unable to leave you my wealth, I turn to those that are next,
To them I do not shrink from entrusting it; and I consider,
That at their house, Pamphilus, you will always find at least
A refuge, food & clothes, & a roof above your head.
Chr.Don’t swear.—’Tis better than that you should be my heir,
And Gorgo squander it. Eh, sir?
Pam.O, I wish I was dead.
Chr. First learn what ’tis to live: when you know that, if life
Displease you still, then wish to die.
Men.Chremes, allow me
To urge you in this. You could not really wish him to go
To Persia, say, and forsake you, as Clinia díd mé.
1520Chr. Forsake me! why, let him go to perdition for all I care,
Rather than stay at home and drag his father down
To beggary with his vices and follies: for if I once
Were saddled with his expenses, I guess ’twould come very soon
To my using that spade of yours, Menedemus, in good earnest.
Men. You offered me your advice this morning; now I in turn....
Chr. I do not need advice.
Men.Spoil not so happy a day.
Chr. I have found a daughter to-day, Menedemus, but lost a son.
117
Men. You have lost your daughter to me, let me restore your son.
Sost. O do forgive him, Chremes; you must.
1530Clin. Me, sir, you cannot blame for taking a brother’s part.
His fault was partly mine: and what was wrongly done
Was done in my behalf.
Chr.No, no, there’s no excuse.
Enter Philolaches as a Persian.
Men. Why, here’s our friend the Persian.
Chr.Pray, sir, what will you?
I hear you have been enquiring for me in the town. Behold me!
Chr. I do not want you now: I know, sir, who you are.
The game is all played out. We have done with masquerades,
And personating others.
Ph.I may take it then I address
Chremes, and not Menedemus?
Chr.You do, sir; and be so kind118
As now to restore me the money, which under a false pretence
You made me give you to-day.
1540Ph.’Tis not the Persian custom.
Chr. You and your Persian customs be hanged, sir; and I believe
You’re more than half to blame for all the impertinence
I have suffered to-day.
Ph.I am, sir; I came to make the confession;
But if you know it already, why do you spite your son?
I have been your guest to-day, & if I have overstrained
The liberty of the feast, I am ready in turn to pay
The penalty. In the name of Bacchus, disown and cast off me,
Disinherit me if you will. But him, your flesh & blood,
Pity and forgive.
1550Chr. Now that’s the first time, lass, you have called me father. I see
I shall have to yield.
Chr.Stay. If I do give in,119
’Tis only on two conditions.
Men.I’ll answer for Pamphilus,
That he’ll accept them: what are they?
Chr.First, my forty pounds;
To get that back from Gorgo.
Men. You spent that money, Chremes, advanced it rather for me,
Thinking to do me a service. I’ll ask you let it be me
Who does it for you. I’ll gladly pay it: it is not lost.
Consider this condition fulfilled.
Chr.You are kinder far
To my boy than he has deserved.
Men.And what is the other matter?
Chr. This. He must marry.
1560Chr.I will not hear a word.
Men. I’ll vouch for him that he will do it.
Chr.He does not say so himself.
Sost.Can you hesitate, Pamphilus?
Chr. Nay, let him do as he likes.
Men.He’ll do it—everything.
120
Sost. This must seem strange at first & disagreeable,
Before you have even thought of it. When you know more of it,
You’ll like it.
Chr.Good! son: for though a wife
Is an evil, she is a necessary evil, and one to which
You will get accustomed in time. ’Tis more respectable too
To be married; and the only cure for a temper such as yours.
Sost. I’ll help you choose, my dear Pamphilus; I know who—1570
That clever, charming girl, whom you’ll be in love with directly;
The orphan niece of our old neighbour, Phanocrates.
Pam. What, not that red-haired thing, with a mouth from ear to ear,
And a little knob of a nose. I couldn’t.
Chr.Why, only see
How nice he has grown: it’s plain he means what he says now.
Sost. Why, I’m sure, Pamphilus, she is a pinnacle of perfection.
But I know another.
Pam.No, no; if I am to marry, be hanged!121
I’ll choose for myself. I know of a girl will do very well.
Pam.Archonides’ daughter.
Sost.You cd not have pleased me more.
Chr. My word! I do believe my wife & I are agreed
On something at last. O wonderful day!
1581Sost.Chremes, I knew
’Twould end like this.
Chr.Now, wife! none of your prophecies.
Come in, come all to dinner.
Pam.Philolaches was asked;
May he come too?
Chr.Oh yes! if it’s the Persian custom.
I’ll bear no grudge to-day; come in, sir, with the rest,
And help to make us merry. This is the Feast of Bacchus.
123
NERO PART II
FROM THE DEATH OF BURRUS TO
THE DEATH OF SENECA
COMPRISING
THE CONSPIRACY OF PISO
124
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
As in first part
| NERO |
| SENECA |
| LUCAN | a poet, nephew to Seneca. |
| PETRONIUS | a gentleman of Rome. |
| TIGELLINUS | prætorian prefect (successor to Burrus). |
| THRASEA | a stoic senator. |
| PRISCUS | a young stoic, lover of Fannia. |
| GRIPUS | a Neapolitan boatman. |
| POPPÆA | now wife to Nero. |
| New Characters in this part |
| CLITUS | a Christian, brother of Epicharis. |
| PISO | a nobleman. |
| NATALIS | confidential follower of Piso. |
| SCEVINUS, a rich lord |  | courtiers. |
| SENECIO, an upstart gentleman |
| QUINTIAN, a court poet |
| PROCULUS | Admiral (successor to Anicetus). |
| LATERANUS | Consul elect. |
| RUFUS | shared prefecture with Tigellinus. |
| FLAVUS, a tribune |  | under Rufus. |
| ASPER, a centurion |
| VATINIUS | Nero’s fool (successor to Paris). |
| CASSIUS | a guardsman, distinguished by his size. |
| ACTE | Nero’s early mistress. |
| EPICHARIS | daughter of a tavern-keeper at Naples. |
| FANNIA | Thrasea’s daughter, marries Priscus. |
| PAULLINA | wife to Seneca. |
| Officers, Attendants, Sailors, Soldiers, Citizens, etc. |
125
NERO PT. II
ACT · I
SCENE · 1
(As Prologue.)
Rome. Thrasea’s house. THRASEA and PRISCUS.
THRASEA.
WHAT is it, Priscus, that hath led thee now
To pledge my ear to closer secrecy
Than what thy loving trust alway command?
Thr.Suppose then I tell thee.
I know thy sickness, and I hold the cure.
Pr. Nay, sir: I rank among the incurables.
Thr. Bravo! that is well said. I have watched thee, Priscus,126
All the six years I have known thee—’tis six years:
I have seen thine eye grow steadier, and thy smile
Softer and kinder, and thy speech, which once
Crackled in flame and smoke, hath stilled to a fire
That comforts my old age. Even as thy body
Hath statelier motion, so is’t with thy mind,
Which ripen’d manners clothe in rich reserve.
Thr.Hearken! ’tis some days since
I have noted thy disturbance and rejoiced.
’Tis ill with them, who quake not at the touch
Of the world’s Creator. Thou hast come to tell me
Thou lov’st my daughter.
Pr. Her name is the oath whereby I seal all truth.
Thr. And well: thou’rt worthy of her; in saying which
I mean thy praise, for she is worthy of thée.
Nay, while she lives I go not from the world;
Death sucks me not, though on his iron ladder
25My years descend: she will be Thrasea still,
Without his struggles. Let me acquaint thee, son,
With one condition which I have thought to make,
Ere I commit her to thy trust.
Pr.Good Thrasea,127
I know not how to thank thee; but, forgive me,
My secret was not this.
Pr.Nay, sir.
Of late I have passed my life half in a dungeon,
Half in the garden, where thou bidst me forth
To bask in my love’s joy: which in my duty
I had spoken of to thee openly, but all
Hath come so quickly: now, a happier way,
I meet thy favour unsolicited.
Let nothing vex this hour; I long to hear
Thy one requirement, which my full consent
Leaps to embrace unheard, that thou mayst join
Fannia and me.
Thr.’Tis but a form. I ask
A promise of thee, Priscus, that thou wílt not
For ten years join any conspiracy
Against the Emperor.
Thr.For Fannia’s sake,
Lest Nero kill thee: and for thy sake too.
Thr.Ten years is a fair term.
Thou wilt be old in prudence then.
Pr.Such prudence
Let me die ere I learn. How would’st thou, sir,128
For ten years bind me down in slavery
To flatter a tyrant?
Thr.Who said flatter? Stay:
50Impatience cannot help. The case is thus.
Since Burrus died, Nero hath broken loose:—
Seneca’s leading-string hath snapped in the midst
Without a strain:—in greed of absolute power
His will cast off restraint; in the possession
His tottering reason doth the like. His lust,
His cruelty, his effeminate, blundering passion
For art and brutal vice are but the brag
Of a hideous nature, which will force the bounds
Of human action, till the shames of Rome
Shame shameless Rome to wipe away her shame.
That is a balance which I cannot poise,
How much shame Rome will bear; but when I hear
The whispers of revolt, and now one name
And now another cast out like a fly
To fish opinion, I give little heed,
For these two reasons; first, there’s not a man
Among the chiefs of faction of such mark
As to make change secure: the second, this,
That lacking such a leader there’s no party
That can command opinion. Nero’s fall,
When he shall fall, will be in a flooding wave
Of common judgment. What the extravagance129
Of crime is weak to move, some unforeseen
75And trifling circumstance may on a sudden
Deliver; and the force that none can raise
None shall control. Await the rising tide,
It will not need us.
Pr.Some, sir, cannot wait.
I came to tell thee how I had given my name
To a conspiracy.
Thr.The gods forbid!
With whom?
Pr.I may not name their names.
Thr.Nay, nay:
But who is the pretender?
Thr. Seneca! Seneca! Hath he consented?
Pr. We are such, sir, as can win him.
Thr.Why, I know you;
The senatorial patriots. There’ll be Lucan,
Cassius and Lateranus, Fænius Rufus,
Flavus, perhaps Vestinus....
Pr.Who they be
Will presently be seen.
Thr.O, I am in time
To stay you yet. This plot is merely mischief,
Seneca’s death.
Pr.Not if ’tis Nero’s death.
130
Thr. Think, man! If first ye go to Seneca,
Ere ye slay Nero, he will not consent:
Never, be sure. And if ye first slay Nero,
Seneca’s nowhere. Others will spring up,
Piso, and all the Augustan family,
Plautus, Silanus....
Pr.But if Seneca
Consent....
Thr. What! to that crime?
Pr.He hath consented
To like before.
Thr.Well, but the wrongs he hath done
His pride alloys, or in pretensed retirement
100Repudiates; ánd, could he feel his guilt,
That were remorse, whose sick and painful palsy
Cannot raise hand to strike. Think you that he,
Who laughed at Claudius’ death; who let be slain
His old friend and protectress Agrippina;
Who glozed the murder of Britannicus;
Who hid his protest when Octavia fell;
That he will turn about and say, ‘Such things
I did for Nero, and the good of Rome:
Now, since he sings at Naples on the stage,
I do repent me, and will kill my pupil;
Will take myself the power I made for him,
And shew how I intended he should rule!’131
This were a Roman but not Seneca.
Pr. We look not fór it óf him.
Thr.’Tis all one.
Seneca! the millionaire!
Pr.If he consent,
We restore the republic.
Thr.The Republic!
The Decii and Camilli will you bring us?
That kingly yeoman, frugal Curius?
Can you restore the brave considerate Gracchi,
And Cato’s stern unconquerable soul?...
O nay: but Seneca the imperialist!——
Priscus, if Seneca refuse, thou’lt make
A promise for ten years?
Pr.With that reserve;
And wilt thou not say five years?
Thr.I’ll say five,
If thou wilt promise.
125Pr.Then, if Seneca
Refuse, I pledge myself to take no part
In any plot against the emperor
For five years.
[Exeunt.Thr.Come within, Fannia is thine.
132
SCENE · 2
Naples. A marine tavern, the open court of it, with
fountain at centre, and low colonnade around. On the
left at a table some Mariners are drinking and playing
with dice. On the right are Officers sitting apart and
drinking. Towards the front PROCULUS (the
Admiral) and SENECIO. EPICHARIS is serving
the Officers.
SENECIO.
I do beg of you, my lord!
PROCULUS.
Why so frightened, sir, at a little trembling of the
soil? Had the Gods any appetite to swallow you,
think you that they would trouble to provide warnings
for your escape?
Seo. I do pray you, my lord admiral, take me on
board your galley for to-night; only for to-night.
Pro. We are under Cæsar’s orders to sail for the
Adriatic, sir; else I might strain to make some
cabin accommodation: but then that would be for
the ladies. Epicharis, help this gentleman to wine;
he’s nervous: some more drink, and I think he’ll be
as brave as any of us.
133
EPICHARIS.
’Twill be at my cost, your excellence.
Pro. Nay, I’ll cover that. Come, drink, sir, and
cheer your soul. That’s the only kindness I can do
you.
Seo. Thank you, my lord, but I . . . (a rumbling
heard.) Oh! oh! there it is again.
Ep. (to Senecio). ’Tis safe enough in our court, sir;
if you sit from the walls.
Pro. And fill for me, fair hostess. Wilt not thou
come aboard my ship?
Ep. Your ship, my lord?
Pro. ’Tis against the rules of the service: but they
provide not for these earthquakes.
Ep. Ha! ha! you jest, my lord.
Pro. We have no wars to occupy us: why should
I not give shelter to the ladies, that fear to be
ashore?
160Ep. That would not be me, my lord. We rode
out worse shakings last year.
Pro. Come, I’ll have thee come. Should Cæsar
hear of it, I can take care of myself.(They talk.)
(Mariners to each other.)
FIRST MARINER.
He was a-acting of Niobby.134
SECOND MARINER.
Niobe, who was Niobe?
THIRD MARINER.
A first-rate, went down with all hands off Andros,
the year of Claudius’ death.
1st. True, mate; that was our Niobby. But this
was a Greek lady that lost all her children at a clap;
bad luck with her name!
2nd. The Emperor would have made to be her, as
’twere; was it?
1st. ’Twas a tragedy, look: and that’s just where
it is. Everybody is somebody else, and nothing’s as it should be.
2nd. That’s right: he were dressed out like a
woman.
1st. Did ye not see him, nodding to the music,
and throwing his hands about? then he gets red in
the face, then he should stoop down to catch his
breath, (he acts) then creening up again he should
throw back his head, and ei! ei! (Screams. All
laugh loudly.)
Pro. Hell and thunder! Silence there!
MARINERS (to themselves).
Why, if we mayn’t laugh in the theater, nor out of it!135
Pro. (to Officers). Here’s a gentleman, who would
go to sea to escape being shaken. Shall we take him
a cruise?
FIRST OFFICER.
Frightened by the earthquake, sir? I do not
blame you.
Seo. When the gods shake your city, as a terrier
does a rat.
1st Off. But how should the sea cure you? ’Tis
their common plaything.
Pro. Indeed, sir, you would learn what heavings
be. These land movements are nought. What
would you say to thirty feet up and down three times
a minute? with now your bows in the air and now
your stern: pitched now forward, now backward, now
rolled from side to side; thrust up to heaven till your
brains are full of air, then sunk down till your belly
squirms, inside out, outside in! 201
Seo. Maybe, sir: but the roof will not fall on your
head: the waves do not crack your walls. Your ships
being constructed mainly of wood . . .
Pro. But the rocks, sir, are mainly constructed of
stone, upon which if a wooden-constructed ship be
driven, there’s no man that would not pay his fortune
down to set one foot on the most quakeful or boggy
ground ’twixt Ganges and Gades. And there be136
monsters, too, which, though I have never seen them,
will swallow, they say, your whole ship at a gulp, as
you do your wine.
(The house trembles, some jars fall: all run to centre.)
Seo. There ’tis again! Oh! oh!
(A great crash heard.)
Mar. Belay there!
Seo. Oh! oh! ye gods in heaven!
1st Off. Steady, my men, steady!
Mar. Ay, ay, sir.
1st Off. Order! To your seats!
Ep. Sit and drink, gentlemen. Wine shall be
cheap to-day. The life in the earth will crack my jars.
A few more rumbles like that will drain the cellars.
1st Off. (to men). We’re safe here as anywhere,
lads; if you keep an eye to the main-walls. It’s all
plasterwork aloft.
Enter Clitus.
CLITUS.
Epicharis! Art thou here, Epicharis? 225
Pro. (to Epicharis). Who is this scared fellow?
Cli. Epicharis, ’tis come: the day is come!
Fly from this place!
Ep. (to Proc.). ’Tis my poor brother, sir: heed him
not; he is simple.
137
Cli. (come to Epi.). Seest thou not, ’tis the end, the day of wrath?
The earth shakes and the dead rise from their tombs.
Pro. (to 1st Off.). By Pluto, if he be not one of them!
Ep. (to Clit.). Sit down quietly, Clitus, for a
minute: I can speak with you presently.
Cli. O Madness! Come from this hell: fly while
thou mayst!
Mar. Ay, sit, mate, sit! be not afeard! sit with us!
Cli. Woe to you, slaves of Babylon! woe cometh
To the queen that sits upon the seven hills.
1st Mar. That is Rome: the seven hills is Rome.
What of Babylon?
Cli. Rome shall be burned with fire, Babylon burned,
Her smoke shall curl to heaven.
Enter Gripus, out of breath.
GRIPUS.
Gone, she’s gone down!
Pro. What’s gone, man?
Gri. The theater; foundered, sir, gone clean down.
I had just got well clear of her, when she gave a lurch,
and plumped under starn-foremost in a cloud of dust.
Cli. (to Epic.). Come, come, Epicharis, I pray thee!
Seo. Is this the gods, or is it not the gods? (drinks.)
Pro. That was the crash. 252
138
Cli. (dragging at Epic.). Thou shalt, thou must.
Ep. (freeing herself). One moment, Clitus, please!
Gri. (to Proc.). I ran to know, my lord, if you’ll
have the boats.
Ep. Were any killed, Gripus? tell us.
Gri. ’Twas a wonder; all the folk had just left her,
I near the last; I felt dizzy-like, and saw the street
seem anyhow: then I looked at the theater, and she
was full of crinks and chinks, when down she went
all to pieces. A little sooner and we had been buried
alive.
1st Off. Emperor and all.
Seo. O ye gods! (drinking) I drink to thee, old
dustman (to Gripus).
Pro. Off with you, my men: in five minutes I’ll be
aboard. (To Epic.) Come, lass!
(Mariners go out with Gripus.)
Ep. Come where, my lord?
Pro. Why, aboard with me.
Ep. Ha ha! I thank you, but I cannot.
Pro. Wouldst thou be buried alive?
Ep. There is my old bed-ridden mother, my lord;
I’ll not leave her. 275
Pro. Well, stick to your ship, like a true girl.
You, Calvus, pay the charges and follow.
139
Seo. Who’s afraid now, my lord! Is it not the gods?
Pro. They take much pains to frighten us, sir.
[Exit.
Seo. And me, with a wife and family. I care not.
1st Off. (paying). Thou’lt be buried with thy jars,
Epicharis.
Ep. Balmed in good wine, eh! Add me yet a
denarius for lord Senecio’s drink.
Seo. Two; I have drunk two.
1st Off. Here’s for him.
Seo. (drinking). Your health, sir! If you wish to
know the cause of all this, I can inform you. ’Tis
the emperor’s cursed singing hath done it. He hath
offended the gods. To call himself Apollo on the
one hand, and on the other to sing in the theatre.
What else could he expect? I give him his due, he
cares not for the gods.
Ep. He doth not, sir.
Seo. Nor I either: not much.
1st Off. Good-night, lass: may we meet again!
Ep. No fear.[Exit 1st Off. with the others.
(Senecio remains, and Clitus, who stands aloof.)
Ep. (to Senecio). Follow thou, follow them. 300
Seo. They won’t have me.
Ep. Nor will I. I wonder thou durst even show
thy face after all thy vain promises. Thou that
wouldst bring me to Cæsar, and I know not what.
140
Seo. I can, I shall yet.
Ep. Begone, see you, begone.
Seo. Look what I had brought thee (showing a book).
Ep. A book I do believe.
Seo. Purple edges and gold knops.
Ep. Seneca on morals, I suppose.
Seo. No. ’Tis Lucan’s book. This can bring thee
to Cæsar. This little book hath great treasons in it.
Ep. Treason! ha! and I to inform, to show it to
Cæsar?
Seo. Well, if not, think what his friends might give
to recover it.
Ep. You should have sold it yourself and brought
me the money.
Seo. ’Twould be guessed whence I whizzled it.
Ep. Wretch! in what villany wouldst thou snare
me? Give it me. (Takes it.) From whom didst thou
steal it?
Seo. Only from a friend.
Ep. I’ll save thy friends from thee, and first myself.
Begone! begone!
Seo. Thou wilt come to Rome, Epicharis?
Ep. (thrusting him out). Begone
207
ACT · IV
SCENE · 1
The tavern at Naples (as in I. 2).
GRIPUS, MARINERS and SENECIO.
GRIPUS.
I SAY weather permitting: it’s always weather
permitting.1568
MARINERS.
1st Mar. There was no weather permitting in it.
I heard the Admiral say he had his orders to sail for
the Adriatic, and the ships at Formiæ were to join
him here last night.
Gri. Weather permitting.
1st M. No: no weather permitting. If it had
been weather permitting, would they have put out in
the teeth of a sou’-wester? that’s what I look at.
2nd M. No sailor would have done it; least of all
Regulus.
Gri. Then ’twas Cæsar’s fault not to have said
weather permitting.
3rd M. Eight firstrates: the pick of the fleet.
1st M. Nay, seven, mate. The Ulysses is put in
for repairs.
208
SENECIO.
What is it you talk of, fellows?
1st M. Why, where have you been, sir? Half the
fleet’s ashore off Misenum.
Seo. Wrecked?
Gri. Ay, that they be.
Enter Epicharis.
EPICHARIS.
Is it true, Gripus? Is the squadron lost?
Gri. True enough.
Ep. Was the Admiral with them?
1st M. Regulus: ’twas Regulus at Formiæ, lady.
Ep. Not Proculus?
1st M. Nay, he’s with his ships in the bay.
Ep. And the crews?
2nd M. Ther’ll not be many stand up, when they
come ashore.
Ep. Poor fellows! And whose fault was this?
Gri. Cæsar’s, I say, lady: and none else.
Seo. Epicharis, see, I am returned. 1600
Ep. Well, I see you, sir. Have you been to Rome
and back so soon?
Seo. Yes, my house is pulled down. But I saw the
Christians burned.
Ep. Hark, sir; I have news for you. (Takes him
aside and speaks with him.)
209
Enter Proculus.
PROCULUS.
What! a dozen of you fellows here! Up with
you! be sharp, and off to the point. See if you can’t
be of some use. You may save a life or two yet.
Mar. We have no orders, my lord.
Pro. Where do you expect to find your orders?
Go and help your mates. You may get into a scrape
yourselves some day.
Mar. Very willing, my lord; so we be sent. (All
drain their cups standing.)
Pro. Come, leave your possets.
Mar. Ay, ay, my lord.[Exeunt Mariners.
Pro. Epicharis, wine!
Ep. Gauran, my lord?
Pro. Yes.—And you, sir, I think are the gentleman
that begged to go aboard the fleet to get clear of
the earthquake. What did I tell you?
Seo. You did not tell me, my lord, that Cæsar
ordered you to be shipwrecked. (Epicharis serves
Pro. with wine.)
Pro. Well, ’twas his doing: I’ll bear no blame of
it. Three days ago it was Cæsar’s intention to go
to Greece; we must therefore be ready to meet him
at Brundisium. Never had more stringent orders.
Now he has forgot all about it, and gone to Rome:210
and I have lost a third of the fleet for nothing. May
all the gods....
Ep. The fire took him to Rome.
Seo. The Romans, my lord, can never spare him
long: their bread depends on him.
Pro. Can’t that old shrimper Tigellinus feed ’em
on sprats?
Seo. Hi, hi!
Pro. Well, sir!
Seo. I shan’t tell.
Ep. The wine will soothe you, my lord. (Refilling
his cup, she signs to Senecio, who goes out.)
Pro. Thank you, lass.
Ep. Did Cæsar give the order himself?
Pro. Don’t talk to me. Ha, that fellow’s gone, is
he? He is not one to blab?
Ep. How should I know, my lord?
Pro. What’s his name?
Ep. Senecio.
Pro. Senecio, yes, of course: one of Nero’s intimates:
and I called Tigellinus an old shrimper:
’twould cost me my life if he heard it.
Ep. No man is safe.1650
Pro. Nor woman either, Epicharis: guard your
tongue.
Ep. I am a Greek, my lord.
211
Pro. What’s that to serve thee?
Ep.Nothing truly; and yet
I have no share in Rome’s reproach; I laugh
Rather to see my country’s conquerors
Themselves enslaved. I have no pride in Cæsar:
Let him be a madman, one day burn his city,
The next day wreck his fleet,—poison his brother,—
Murder his mother,—behead his wife,—I care not.
Let all his courtiers be curs, and he
Sing in the theatre.... In Greece a tyrant
Had little heart for singing; nay, at night
He slept not, thinking what undaunted spirits
Were lying wide-awake for torturing shame
Till they could kill him.
Pro.By Jove, thou hast a tongue!
Ep. And they that like it not may cut it out.
Pro. Drink with me, lass (offers his cup).
Ep.I would I were a Roman
But for one day.
Pro.I love thee for thy spirit.
Ep. Thou lov’st to hear the words thou dar’st not say.
Ep.Greek as I am, my lord,
And woman, were I now as near to Cæsar
As I am to you, I’d stab him to the heart.
212
Pro. I would not stay thee.
Ep.But thou wouldst not do it.
1675Pro. Bah! thou’rt a Greek to brag what thou wouldst do:
I am a Roman, and would do the thing
Before I spake it.
Ep.Yet mightst never do it.
Pro. Thou know’st me not.
Ep.Then none knows thee, my lord.
Were there a plot among the brave in Rome,
Which they should fear to break to thee, and say
We know him not, we cannot risk to sound him,
A woman might; then should they send a woman,
Some woman that thou lov’st, to learn thy mind,
What wouldst thou say?
Pro.Then were it time to speak.
Ep. The brave in Rome have plotted: I am the woman—
Their messenger.
Pro.What! a conspiracy?
’Gainst Cæsar’s life?
Ep.They bid thee bring the navy.
Pro. Art thou in earnest?
Ep.I am a Greek, my lord;
And risk my life for Roman liberty.
Pro. What are their names?
213
Ep. In time I’ll tell their names.
Ep. In three days Cæsar will be slain: ’tis asked
Of thee that thou wilt bring thy ships to Ostia,
And seize the granaries till Rome is ours.
Pro. What are their names?
Ep.With fair security
I will tell all.
Pro.And what security
For me?
Ep.Enough, my lord, even in this risk
To well content thee.
Pro.Tell me the chief names.
Ep. When I have won thee.
Pro.Thou hast won me: tell.
Pro.What would they have me do?
Ep. First bring the officers whose names are here
To meet me here to-night. Then I shall see
Who is to trust.
(Giving a paper)
Pro. (reading the paper). Give me the names of those
Who sent thee.
Pro.I would not harm thee.
Pro.See, Epicharis, I’ll help thee
Out of this mischief. Give me up the names,
And thou shalt be informer.
Ep.Ah, Proculus,
Play not that part; thou that so oft in secret
Hast cursed the tyrant to me; now play not
That part; it cannot serve thee: be true, Proculus,
To the nobleness within thee, that hast not only
A heart sufficient, but in face and figure
Lookest the hero: thou that mightest stand
For a statue of Brutus, and outdo the man
As nature made him: Be thou from this day
Named with the noblest; Proculus the brave,
Who turned the tide ’gainst Nero, and delivered
Romans from shame and slavery;—or wilt thou
Be Proculus the futile; Proculus,
Who aided first infamous Anicetus
To murder Agrippina, and then perceiving
Remorseful Cæsar cast out his gross tool,
Sought to win favour of the parricide,—
And vainly tried to stay the avenger’s hands,—
1725And sold a trustful woman whom he had loved,
On the eve of liberty?
Pro.That day’s not come.215
Look to thyself, and I will win thy safety.
To-night thou wilt set forth with me to Rome:
In two days I shall bring thee before Cæsar.
Then, if thou tell these names, thou wilt go free,
And mayst be rich. Thou canst not ’scape: be ready
[Exit.In one hour hence.
Ep.Ah, wretched Roman slave,
Thy paltry spirit hath baulked me: go thy way;
Thou knowest nought: thou’rt in my power; thou too,
If I could turn aside, shouldst bleed for Clitus:
He hated thee, condemned thee, and thou deservest.
But what care I for thee? what is’t to me
That Piso be set up on Nero’s throne?
Only make void that throne, only tear out
That monster from the world. As for thee, Proculus,
I know thee and can outwit thee: I have my tale
Ready, and false Senecio for my witness.
[Exit.Where is Senecio?—I have yet an hour.
SCENE · 2
A street in Rome.
Enter SCEVINUS, followed by NATALIS and
LATERANUS.
SCEVINUS.
No more, sirs: let me go. This sword shall do it.
I am sworn.
216
Stay, stay, sir! stay! be more discreet.
Sce. I know there’s not a man among you all
Durst risk his life but I. I have made my will:
I have set my house in order. Cæsar dies,
Dies by this hand to-day.
For heaven’s sake, stay, sir!
Have patience. Piso is unprepared.
1750Lat.Scevinus,
Thou art bound to abide by and respect the voice
Of the party.—We do not choose thee.—
Lat. No scheme is ready as yet. The matter needs
More judgment than thou usest.
Sce. Caution and judgment are for cowards. By God
I have sworn. ’Tis by this hand Cæsar shall die.
Nat. (to Lat.). We must prevent him.
Lat. (to Nat.).Shall we seize him?
Sce.My lords,
I thank you for your counsel. Go now to Piso,
And make him ready: I shall to the palace
To screen my purpose in some usual conduct.
[Exit.To-night all will be over.—Fare-you-well.
217
Lat. Come after him, Natalis: we must make
A show of yielding, and delude him gently
[Exeunt.By mock convincement; else he’ll ruin all.
SCENE · 3
A room in the palace. NERO and POPPÆA meeting.
NERO.
Empress! the emperor of the world salutes thee,
Bows to thee.
Ner.And embraceth.—
Didst thou sleep well in thy new chamber?
Pop.’Tis fine. It hath no fault,
Save that it lies so far from thine.
Ner.In that
See how I trust thee.
Pop.I shall need my litter
In this new palace: ’tis a morning’s journey
From end to end. What distances!
Ner.Yes, space:
Grandeur in space: we cannot emulate218
Starry distinctions and ethereal peace;
1775Mortal conditions hamper us . . . yet I’ll teach
The world what may be done; and my new Rome
Shall stand for a type: the streets all laid out broad,
Straight and intelligible; and all the houses
Of fireproof stone from Alba and Gabii.
In four years ’twill be finished.
Pop.Four whole years
Of rubbish-heaps and hammering?
Ner.Come see
The plans in the library.
Pop.Would you believe
The plans of architects can cheer a woman?
Ner. If thou wert happy thou wouldst love to see
All that I do, and for my sake admire.
I wish that thou wert happier. Think, Poppæa,
What cause thou hast, being for thy peerless beauty
Chosen the world’s Augusta. I could wish
Thou didst smile oftener.
Pop.Well, consider, love,
I have cause for care.
Ner.I wish that thou couldst sing:
Music can cheer. Dost thou remember once,
When thou wast fearful in a thunderstorm,
How I diverted thee with sprightly music?
Then I should love if, when I came to see thee,219
I heard thy voice afar, and in thy chamber....
(Vatinius interrupts, entering noisily.)
Who’s there? (Vatinius gives a note to Nero.)
(Reads.) ‘Proculus the admiral is come from Naples
With secret tidings; he hath a lady with him!’
(To Vat.) Let him in, or his tidings, or his lady,
[Exit Vat.Whichever is most secret—or all three.
(To Poppæa, who is going.) Thou needst not go, love.
Ner. Pooh! ’tis some state affair.
[Exit.Pop.I hate affairs.
Ner. Marriage rúins a woman: and how quickly!
And I to lead the ape-dance, who am sworn
1805To rid the world of this and all its plagues!
Enter Tigellinus with Proculus and Epicharis; Vatinius
following.
Ner. Good-day, Lord Proculus; what brings you here?
PROCULUS. Forgive the intrusion, Cæsar.
Ner.The lady’s looks
Are ample excuse. You ask leave to be married?
Pro. Nay, Cæsar; I accuse her.
TIGELLINUS (aside to Nero).
EPICHARIS.Mighty Cæsar,
This is a charge ’gainst me: a foolish charge
Not worth your ear. I have a witness with me
Would make short matter of it, might he enter.
Ner. By all means. Why, sir, did you keep him back?
His name?
Ner.Good. We know him, lady.
Vatinius, fetch him in. (Exit Vat.) What is the charge?
Pro. This woman, sire....
Ner. (interrupting). What is thy name, fair lady?
Ep. Epicharis, your majesty.
Pro.This lady
Was known to me at Naples.
Ner.I understand:
Spare your excuses.
Ner.Ho!
You sailors! (Vat. re-enters with Senecio.)
(To Epicharis) See your witness, lady, is come.
Pro. She took occasion of her intimacy
To draw me into a plot ’gainst Cæsar’s life.
Pro. Entrusted by conspirators at Rome
Three days ago to tamper with me.
221
Ner.By heaven!
And thou dost laugh? (to Epic.)
Ep.Will Cæsar hear the end?
Ner. (to Pro.). Give me the names at once.
Pro.I know no names,
Cæsar; she would not tell.
Ner.No names? and whom
Wert thou then to conspire with?
Pro.She would tell
Nothing of her confederates, unless
I brought together certain officers,
Whose loyalty I know suspicious.
Ner.Dost thou? By God,
I’ll have théir names.
Pro.I was to sail to Rome,
And seize the granaries.
Ner.Enough. Now, madam;
What dost thou answer?
Ep.If Cæsar need an answer
To a charge so empty, ’tis enough to say
I have never been in Rome.
Ner. ’Tis not enough.
Didst thou speak to the Admiral in the sense
He avers?
Ep.I humbly crave great Cæsar’s pardon
For jesting with his name.
222
Ep. Here is my witness; Lord Senecio
Will say that my story is true. Holding with him
Some talk of Proculus, I laid a wager
That I could make the Admiral believe
Anything, no matter how ridiculous:
And this we hit on. Then straight he comes in,
And if I went too far, ’twas in my fear
To lose my money.
’Twas so, sire; I backed the Admiral, and lost.
Ner. (to Proc.). You sailors are so clumsy. You are a fool.
Pro. Sire! on my life ’twas true. ’Twas not a jest:
She would outface me.
As Octavia did
That old sea-mutton Anicetus.
Ner.First, sir,
Send me these same suspicious officers.
Meanwhile for her,—thy rank may win thy tale
So much respect,—she goes not free. (To Tig.) Good master,
Keep her in custody.
223
Ep. (aside to Proculus). Hear me! I warn thee.
Join, or be first to die!
Pro.Now, Cæsar, again
She invites me to conspire.
Ner.Come, man; she mocks thee:
She hath won the privilege. (To Tig.) Take her away;
But treat her well. You follow me: I go
To judge the cases argued yesterday.
No folly, Proculus, like being in earnest,
When others are all jesting.
[Exeunt. Tigellinus with Epicharis: Proculus
and Vatinius with Nero.
SCENE · 4
A room in Piso’s house.
Enter PISO with NATALIS.
PISO (at door).
Show them in here, Natalis; I must see them.
[Exit Nat.
’Tis dangerous: Rufus should know better. Five,
Five of them here together! ’tis enough
To damn an innocent: mere information
By any vagabond. Why should they come?
224
Re-enter Natalis with Rufus, Lateranus, Lucan,
Flavus and Asper.
Come in, my lords; come in.
Pis. Your purpose, gentlemen? Ye would not come
In such a dangerous body to my house
Without great cause.
’Tis urgency, my lord.
We have met to-day, and voted with one voice
Immediate action. That madman Scevinus
Hath taken the whole affair upon himself,
And full of mystery walks at large, parading
His self-importance; wearing on his face
The secret of our lives. You must come forward,
Or we are lost.
1880Ruf.My lord!
My lord! my lord! (A servant has been speaking with Natalis at the door.)
[Exit Nat.Pis. Bring him in.—(To Ruf.) Nay, Rufus, I shall not move.
Why should you come to me? I made no promise
But this, when Nero is dead, to be your Cæsar.
225
The men, my lord, whose hands you grasped in faith
Need your support. A Cæsar we must have;
Stand by us or withdraw.
Pis.May I ask the name
Of the last speaker?
Pis.By heaven!
Asper thou art.
Re-enter Natalis with Senecio.
SENECIO (excitedly). My lords, we are betrayed.
Seo.No. Proculus,
The Admiral. He hath brought to Nero a woman
From Naples, who was sent to gain him over.
Ruf. What names hath she betrayed?
Seo.No names at all.
She outfaced the Admiral with a lie, and I
Swore it was true.
Pis.Hath she not mentioned me?
226
1900Pis. Maybe then she knows nothing.
Seo.Ay, she knows:
She told me.
Pis. Ay, who is she? how came she in the plot?
Seo. Lucan perhaps may know.
Luc.I have heard the name,
And mentioned with my uncle, the physician.
If that is what Senecio means, ’tis nought.
Where is she? let us see her.
Seo.Tigellinus
Hath her in custody.
Ruf.She will be questioned.
Pis.Who, now, is guilty of this?
I have other evidence too that your secret
Has been ill-kept, gentlemen.—When I sent
A messenger to Seneca this morning,227
He was refused admission.—Seneca knows.
My lords, we are all in danger: there’s no time
To investigate. Act,—act ere we be lost!
Lat. The plan I have always urged:
Remember, sirs, how Julius fell. To-morrow
Are the Circensian games, Nero will come:
I, under the pretence of some request,
Will kneel to him, as Cimber knelt to Cæsar;
And as I beg my boon I’ll drag him down,
If one of you will slay him.
Ruf.Better, Sir,
Do without him. And I still hold my plan
1925The best, that Cæsar should be asked to supper:
Then nought were risked. Once more I pray Lord Piso
To save unneeded bloodshed.
Pis.I could not do it:
Nor were it wise, in face of the great pity
Such treachery would stir.
Asp.And the delay:
To-morrow is late.
Ruf.Then Lateranus hath it:228
We adopt his disposition. You, my lord,
Must be by dawn to-morrow in Ceres’ temple
Clad in imperial purple: I with my guards
Will keep the doors; and when the deed is done
Will bring you forth, and lead you through the city,
Proclaiming you with shouts.
Pis.Well, let it be so.
I give consent. Let nothing stop you now:
But each man learn his part and act it bravely.
Your lives are forfeit. Secrecy and despatch—
And now depart.
Ruf.Be you in Ceres’ temple.
Pis. I understand. I shall await you there.
Action, Rufus, is now your only hope;
Let nothing stop you. Fail me not.
Fla. and Asp.Hail, great Cæsar!
Pis.Hush!
Depart your different ways: be no more seen
Than cannot be avoided. I see none
Until to-morrow.
[Exeunt.All (going). To-morrow! to-morrow!
229
SCENE · 5
A room in the palace. Enter NERO and TIGELLINUS
with a drawn sword (R.).
Ner. Fury and Hell! Murder me, would he! A plot,
A damnable hellish plot! Stab me! by God,
1950Arrest him and fetch him hither.
Tig.Bethink you, Cæsar,
Now of Epicharis.
Ner.Ah, true, by heaven!
The impudent drab: she knew it all. Send straight
To the prison, and have her questioned. Rack and fire:
Torture truth from her.
Tig.I will. Whist! Cæsar, I see
The man himself.
Ner.Come out! he may be armed.
We’ll close the doors upon him and shut him in,
[Exeunt hastily (L.).">Till we have got assistance.
Enter Scevinus and Quintian (R.).
How the sun shines to-day, Quintian! Great Phœbus,
The Python-slayer, smiles upon my deed.
Hush! walls have ears.
230
Sce.When the gods favour a man,
They set his mind at ease: he disregards
Your fearful chances. Think you, Quintian,
’Tis the April air intoxicates me so,
And floats my head with birdlike confidence?
Is it the April morning air? Ah, no;
’Tis the air of the eve of liberty.—Is that
Not poetry, good fellow?
Qu.Well, they say
Occasion makes a poet of any man.
Sce. It pleases me to walk about the palace,
And count the columns: with my eye I measure
The carven friezes and gold roofs, and say
All this is thine, Scevinus: stretch but forth
Thy hand and take it from its master: give it
Back to the world. These busts, Hellenic statues,
1975All these are thine, Scevinus! Let us go
To the western court, where we may gaze on Rome.
Sce.All this is thine, Scevinus!
Open the door!
Sce. (trying it). Shut fast! ’Tis strange.
I never knew this door shut up before.
Qu. We can go back the same way we came in,
And round by the north corridor.
231
(Going hurriedly back to first door.)Sce. We will.
By God, ’tis closed too: fast. We are locked in.
Sce. (going again to the second door). They both are fast.
Qu.I hear
Footsteps without.
Sce.Here, here! my dagger: take it.
Qu. Nay, curse thee, I’ll not have it.
Qu. Throw it out of the window.
Sce. By God, Quintian, I forgot. It was the dagger
That should have pierced my heart, if I was taken.
Qu. Brave it out. I know nothing.
Re-enter Nero and Tigellinus preceded by Guards (L.).
Ner. Ha! Quintian too, my feathery Quintian.
(To Tig.) What of him, master?
Tig. (to Ner.).Send him out.
Ner.Begone, sir:
And thank thy littleness.
[Exit.Qu.I am Cæsar’s slave.
Ner. Now, sir, we have thee; we know all: go down,
Fall on thy knees. (Sce. kneels.) Confess, and tell me first
Why in the temple of Capitoline Jove232
Thou didst present and dedicate a sword.
Tig. This sword, sir, sharpened too, and tempered freshly.
Sce. Most mighty Cæsar, I know not on oath
Why I am treated thus. What of this sword?
2000Sce.Pray let me see it near.
Tig. I’d like to put it, sir, where thou couldst feel
More than thou saw’st of it. Dost see it now?
Sce. ’Tis mine. O sacred heirloom of my house,
Left to my father by my grandfather....
Ner. Invoke not thy curst ancestors to me.
Sce. It hath been stolen from me: some slave, Cæsar,
Knowing the store I set by it, hath purloined it.
Tig. One of those thieves whom thou three days ago
Didst liberate,—when thou mad’st thy will—? We know.
Why didst thou that?
Sce.It is the time of year
I fix my household, and reward my servants.
And for my will, it is my habit oft
To change the disposition of my goods,
As they change, and my friends.
Ner.Thou hast changed thy friends,
Say’st thou, of late! As for thy change of will,
Thy little damnèd will, the estate of felons233
Passes to Cæsar at their execution.
Tig. And why, sir, shouldst thou lay up in thy house
A store of bandages, styptics and drugs
Good for fresh wounds?
Sce.I did not: I pray you, Cæsar,
Who hath informed against me?
Ner.Question me,
Wilt thou?
Tig. He hath been seen, sire, with Natalis.
Sce. Never, I know him not.
Ner.Get up, sir.—Take him
To torture, till he tell.
Sce.Cæsar, I pray
2025Have me not tortured. I am innocent.
Ner. Villain, I’ll have thee drawn out limb from limb;
And thou shalt taste at leisure from this sword
What stabbing is. Take him away.
Sce.Nay, Cæsar,
Have me not tortured. I am innocent.
Tig. Take him off, guards.
Sce.Indeed I am innocent.
[Exeunt Guards carrying off Scevinus.Cæsar, Oh Cæsar!
Tig. The informer Milichus, Scevinus’ slave,
Saith he was with Natalis, Piso’s man:
Shall I seize Piso?
Ner.Not yet, no, I am safe234
Here in the palace. Have the city guarded,
And go first to the prison: look thyself
To the torture of Epicharis: from her
Learn all, and bring it to me here. A woman
Is delicately nerved: use thy full art
Most exquisitely.
Tig.She hath confessed by this:
I sent at once.
Ner. A plot! and this contemptible Scevinus
I could almost forgive; that woman never.
She fooled me to my face, laughed as she fooled me:
A Common woman! Cæsar! me! on the eve
Of being the ridicule of history:
My wisdom a mockery,—my insight,—to the end of time
Schoolboys to laugh at turning of my page,
The favourite tale to spice their dreary task.
Nero! and I who, when my very mother,
She who upraised me, dared to plot against me,
Scrupled not, I, for my world-reaching schemes
And absolute power, I scrupled not to hide
Sonship in Cæsardom: yes, and for that
Have oped my soul-gates to the powers of hell,
And daily face spectres of horror, ghostly235
Environments, the blue upbraiding lips
Of shadowy forms, that kiss in mockery,
And poison peace upon the paths of sleep.
To have borne in vain the murderer’s scaring plague,
To be by a common woman—killed: I doubt not,
Had but occasion served, she would have done it.
Have laughed to do it, laughed on when ’twas done.
Ah! by that lately-laughing, cherruping mouth
Shall all her damned conspirators be snared:
Yes, and a thousand times shall she scream truth,
Ere I will hear; a thousand times shriek forth
The names of those her shrieks shall shriek to hell,
Ere she go after them. (Re-enter Tigellinus.) What, Tigellinus!
What saith Epicharis?
Tig.Nothing.
Cæsar will never get a word from her.
Ner. Thou hast not killed her, fool?
Tig.Nay, Cæsar: but no corpse
Keeps better silence.
Ner.Where’s thy art, man? Use
Rack, redhot pincers, the slow fire . . .
Tig. Not all together make her give a sound.
Tig.They do; but ’tis beyond our power
To match the first pangs; and they moved her not.
I came to say we had forgot Senecio.
Ner.Rack him well.
2080But make this woman speak. Use better art.
Tig. I found the torturers sitting round their task:
Their zest had cooled. Without a cry or scream
’Tis a dull sport.
Ner.She is a Christian, then.
Tig. The Christians never plot: I think in that,
Cæsar, you wrong them.
Ner.I? Thou know’st them little:
They are the time’s worst plague. I do not care
If they burned Rome or no: were they all burned
’Twould richly compensate the world. Hark, friend!
The people might be masters; what they lack
This Christ provides. Were I to prophesy,
I’d say that should their cursed doctrines spread,
They would one day drown all, learning and beauty,
Wisdom and rule and art. For that I hate them,
And love to destroy them. I AM THEIR ANTI-CHRIST.
237
ACT · V
SCENE · 1
A strong room in the palace dungeon. TIGELLINUS
seated at a table CENTRE. NATALIS scared, and with
his hands bound behind him, stands R. before two Guards.
[Exeunt Guards.Leave him.—
Natalis, thou hast had a taste of the rack?
Mercy, my lord; have mercy on me I pray thee:
I will tell all, and better without torture.
Tig. So far I have had mercy, sir: I have shown thee
2100In this Epicharis what thou mayst look for,
Should I lack mercy. Canst thou too be silent?
Nat. Nay, my lord, nay. My lord, I am not brave.
Knowing I cannot suffer, I will speak truth
Without the torture.
Tig.Truth, fool! what is that?
I haggle not with thee for thine own tale:
That cannot serve thee. I require of thee
Such answers as best please me.
238
Tig. Thou hast betrayed thy master Piso; now
Tell me, was Seneca in this conspiracy?
(Enter Guards.)Nat.I swear he was not.
Tig.Guards!
Take him to torture.
Nat.Oh, my lord, have pity!
Ask me not this.
Tig.I’ll ask thee nothing else
While thou art parting with thy skin. Once more:
Was Seneca in this conspiracy?
Tig.Just as I thought; hold fast to that;
Else, by great Jupiter, the things thou hast seen
Are nothing.—Take him off and send in the other.
[Exeunt Guards with Natalis.
Now I am rid of Seneca. This method
Is easy and short. The foolish rich Scevinus
May serve me another way.
Enter two Guards with Scevinus, whose hands are
bound before him.
(To Guards.) Leave him.—(Exeunt Guards.) Scevinus,
Cæsar hath ordered thee the rack.
239
My lord,
Have pity upon me I beg. I turn informer.
I will betray it all: I withhold nothing.
Tig. Thou hast seen the torture of Epicharis....
Sce. O, my dear lord, not that! mercy!
Tig.Since she
Hath baulked my inquisitors, I have promised them
Some noisy victim to restore their credit.
Tig.And why not thee? I think thee
A likely fellow.
Sce.My lord, I am too tender.
2130The least prick of my finger, or if the wine
I drink be overheated, ’tis enough
To put me in a frenzy: I should die
At first stretch of the rack.
Tig.Pooh! man: they’d keep thee
Alive for a week.—
Sce.O spare me, good Tigellinus!
Spare me, I pray, kind Tigellinus, spare me!
Tig. Shall I? and if I do, what is it worth?
Hast thou two thousand sesters?
Sce.Oh, my lord,
I have not the tenth of it.
Tig. (calling).Guards!
240
(Enter Guards.)Sce.I swear I have not.
Tig. Get up, that is the price.—Guards, take him off.—
I’ll make good use of thee.
Sce.Sir, I might find it.
Tig. (motioning Guards back). Hark, thou canst raise the money, and mayst write
From prison to thy friends: and if ’tis paid
To me to-night, I will respect thy wish.—
Guards, take this prisoner to the outer cell;
Let him there write what missives he desires,
And see they be delivered in the city.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE · 2
A room in the house of Piso.
Enter FLAVUS and PISO, meeting.
My lord, I come from Rufus.
Fla. Natalis and Scevinus both are taken.
All must be known; and your complicity
The first: meanwhile Rufus is unsuspected;241
Cæsar hath summoned him to sit as judge
In trial of the accused this afternoon.
He has therefore this last hope, but only this,
That you with all your friends proceed at once
To the fort of the guard: he will proclaim you there,
Relying on the people, who well know
Your prudence, and may passively accept
The revolution as a thing accomplished.
Seeing you countenance it, and have your title
Supported by the guards.
Pis.Calls he this hope?
’Tis the forlorn hope.
Fla.Desperation, my lord,
Is not despair. I venture it with gladness.
Pis. So do not I. I am no doubt betrayed
Already and watched.
Fla.Rufus may still be clear:
The informers will not name him while the guards
Remain their last resource.
Pis.Bid him act quickly,
And for himself.
Fla.My lord, he looks to you.
Unless you appear we cannot gain the people.
Consider how we have all trusted our lives
To your concerted action: now stand forth
And help us as you can.
242
Pis.Stay, man; consider
How I have trusted my life to your action;
And what ye have done with it: my stake in this
Compares no more with thine than does my prize
In the success with thine: I should be Cæsar,
Thou Flavus still: so, if we fail, I suffer
In like degree, my family dishonoured,
My rich estates cónfiscate, my innocent,
Honest dependants, whom I count by thousands,
All plunged in misery: to them my duties
Forbid this reckless hazard.—Return to Rufus,
And say so much. I utter no reproach
’Gainst thee nor any other; I forgive
What reproach thou didst hint. I know thou’rt brave;
Thou hast wished well, and I with thee; but now
Our ill-built ship founders. I am your captain;
My word is each man for himself: my part
I shall act no less bravely, that I see
All goes to the bottom.
Fla.Defer, my lord, to the last.
I’ll save you if I may. I will go armed
To the trial.
Pis.Act for thyself; think not of me.
Now bear my word to Rufus. Go this way.
[Exit, showing Flavus out.
243
SCENE · 3
The previous scene withdraws and discovers an open court
of the palace disposed for the trial, the seats in a half-circle.
Nero’s at centre, back, the seat for the Judge at
left front: the raised platform for the accused at right
front. Guards behind NERO, and lining the half-circle.
Enter LUCAN, FLAVUS and ASPER (L.). They
stand talking under cover of Judge’s seat. Guards
and most of audience are assembled.
Rufus will do his best: trust we to Rufus
To minimize the matter; ’tis his interest.
If Cæsar come unguarded, I will kill him.
I will stand by thee. Is Lateranus here?
Luc. He said he should not come. I pray you both
Wait: let us first see who is betrayed.
Fla.Go thou,
And wait thy death. (Lucan goes to his place.)
Asp.Let us die bravely, Flavus;
’Tis all we can. (Coming forward to centre.)
2200Fla.We will. Ah, see! he is guarded.
244
Enter R. Nero, Tigellinus and Rufus; preceded by Guards,
who thrust Flavus and Asper back, making passage for
Cæsar.
Here is our court. I love the open air:
It savours more of justice, heavenly justice;
And while we sit, we breathe. Rufus, ascend.
(Showing Judge’s seat.)
Cæsar is plaintiff, and in his own cause
Might bear a bias: so I make thee judge.
My counsel, Tigellinus, sit by me. (They sit.)
Fla. (to Asp.) I’ll not despair. I’ll keep my dagger ready.
Be near him if I rush. (Asper takes a seat on Rufus’ proper left.)
Ner.Is it in order. Rufus,
That I speak first?
’Twere well for form’s sake, Cæsar,
To state the purpose of this court, and read
The names of those denounced. Where are the informers?
Ner. Bring in the prisoners.—As for this court, general,
’Tis called to inquire upon a matter known
To most here: they that know it not may gather it245
As we proceed; I will premise thus far:—
You will hear certain citizens confess
That they, with others whom they name, were joined
In a conspiracy to murder another,
And him your chiefest citizen, myself.
Rome at the first had kings, and being returned
To an autocratic rule, in the exigency
Of wide dominion, I, her king, her Cæsar,
Her prætor, tribune, consul, typify
The general weal: who aims at my life, aims
At Rome and all. Therefore, though Cæsar needs
No sanction to his sentence, he invites
The public ear unto the public wrong,
That all, before the guilty are arrested,
May hear the evidence, and self-impeachment
2230Of the two chief informers. There they are;
Natalis and Scevinus.—(They have been brought in guarded during Nero’s speech, and now stand up. R.)
As plaintiff I shall watch the case, as Cæsar
I watch the judge. Proceed!
Tig. Thou in this writing hast confessed the truth
Of all the several charges brought against thee
By thy slave Milichus.
246
Tig. ’Tis true there was a plot ’gainst Cæsar’s life,
And thou the instrument?
Sce.My lord, ’tis true:
I crave great Cæsar’s mercy.
Tig.In hope of that,
And moved by late contrition, thou hast revealed
The names of thy confederates.
Ruf. Will Cæsar let me scan the information?
Ner. No need. Take each in turn.
Tig. (to Sce.).I ask thee, therefore,
Now to confirm this paper in open court.
Who was the head of this conspiracy?
The man who thought to sit in Cæsar’s place,
When ye had murdered Cæsar?
Tig. Stand forth, Natalis.
Tig.Art thou
Of Piso’s household?
Tig.Then thou
Shouldst know: was Piso head of this conspiracy?
Ruf. Arrest Calpurnius Piso on this charge.
247
Ner. (to Tig.). Send and arrest him. (Tig. speaks to those behind.)
Fla. (to Ruf.).Let me by thee, Rufus!—
Send me to Cæsar with some paper, Rufus!—
Now I may reach him.—To save Piso, Rufus!—
Ruf. (to Flav., thrusting him back). Be still!
Tig. (looking up). Order! who speaks?
Ner. whispers to Tigellinus, who sets two Guards before Nero’s seat.
Ruf. (to Flav.). See, fool; he hath smelt thee.
Tig. I’ll ask Natalis further if he knew
Of any other chief man in the state
Cognizant of this plot, or joined therein.
Nat. Calpurnius Piso was the chief, my lord.
Tig. No other? and I have here thy writing!
Fla. (aside to Rufus).Now,
General, thy turn is come.
Ruf. (to Natalis).Speak, sir!
Nat.I pray,
Rufus, to urge not this: nay, from my heart
I say . . .
Ruf.This witness, Cæsar,
I do not trust.
Tig.Carry Natalis out
To torture.
248
Tig.Then name, sir, name!
Tig.Yes, Seneca.
Let Seneca be arrested. Judge, what sayst thou?
Ruf. Let Seneca be arrested.
Fla. (to Ruf.).Villain thou art!
Ner. (to Tigell. who has whispered to him). Leave
2270Seneca to me.
Tig. These are the heads. Now will I read three names:
Tell me, Scevinus, if I read aright:
Quintian, Senecio, Lucan.
Ner. Three hypocritical and fawning curs,
The lap-dogs of the palace. Where áre they?
Tig. They are here, Cæsar.—Quintian, stánd forth.
Qu.I give Scevinus
The lie direct.
Ner.We found thee in his company,
The hour of his arrest.
249
Qu.Cæsar, I knew
Of nothing ’gainst thy life. ’Tis true that oft
I have spoken against Vatinius; were he Cæsar,
I should be guilty: but yourself have loved
To prick me to it; and so, maybe, my tongue
Hath given Scevinus undeserved occasion
To think me of his party.
Ruf. I look for evidence.
Tig.Dost thou?—Then, Quintian,
To save thy life wilt thou inform?
Tig. Then was not Lucan with you?
Ner.O Quintian,
Quintian! if I forgave thee for thy treason,
I could not for thy folly. Arrest him.
Ruf.Arrest Quintian.
The next?
Tig. Senecio, General, hath confessed.
His evidence we will take later. Where is
Lucan?
Luc. I am here, my lord, ready to answer.
Ruf. Then let us hear thine answer.
Luc.I deny
The charge of treason: but so far confess
My intimacy with the accused, that oft250
My zeal for senatorial forms hath led me
To listen to them, when the words that passed
Might tell against me: and if I was betrayed
2300By antiquarian taste, to trust these men
Against advice and warning . . .
Ner.Ah! thou sayest
Against advice. Who warned thee?
Ner. Sir, I will know who warned thee of this plot,
And warned not me.
Luc.Sire, I meant not so much.
Luc.I make appeal to Rufus, whether
I must betray the innocent.
Ner.If thou look
For thine own pardon.
Tig.We can make thee speak.
Ruf. Tell us, sir, who these wondrous patriots were,
Who set thy private safety above Cæsar’s.
Luc. If Cæsar bids me speak, I may hide nothing.
I will confess it was my mother, Atilia,
Who warned me against these men. Punish not her
For not betraying her son.
Ner.Nay, sir, but thee
Who in this bungle of prevarication251
Betrayest thine own mother. Judge!
Luc. I am arrested, Cæsar, not condemned.
Ner. Thou’lt see. Stand by!—(To Tigell.) Another woman! why
Comes not Epicharis?
Tig.I know no cause
For the delay. I’ll send again.
Ner.Do so.
(To Scevinus.) Go on, sir: who is next?
Ner. Plautius Lateranus! Have more care
Whom thou accusest. This is one bounden to me
By special favours: from disgrace I raised him
To sit among the senate, and now he is chosen
Consul.
Tig. Dost thou denounce him?
Ner. Whom then can Cæsar trust? Judge, Rufus, judge!
Enter an Officer.
Cæsar, being sent to arrest Calpurnius Piso,252
We found him dead.
Fla. (to Rufus). See how thou hast ruined all!
Ruf. (to Flavus) Speak not to me!
Off. He died by his own hand as we arrived.
I viewed the body.
Tig.He must have killed himself
To escape the confiscation.
Ner.Bah! he hath robbed
The treasury.
Tig.We shall have pickings yet.
Ruf. Cæsar, the untimely suicide of the accused
Confirms the charge against him in so far
As he hath declined to meet it. But the trial
Falls to the ground: we lose both the defence
And the chief witness.
Ner.Not so. My chief object
Remains, and my chief witness.—(To Tig.) Where is Epicharis?
Tig. I see a litter passing ’neath the trees.
Ner. Meet them, and bring her in.—
[Exit Tigellinus.
I now produce a woman in the court.
Her name Epicharis: she lives at Naples,
And there was used by the conspirators253
To tamper with the navy: the Admiral
Arrested her; but she, being charged before me,
Turned off suspicion with a specious tale,
Which I more readily believed, because
2350I hate informers, nor will lightly think
Evil of anyone. Senecio
Confirmed her story, but hath since confessed
He knew it false: himself, as he affirms,
Was not in Piso’s confidence; this woman
Knew all. Now Piso towards Senecio
Trusted too much in trusting but a little,
Trusting Epicharis much he trusted well:
For in the extreme of torture she hath not flinched,
Nor given a sound: but seeing her silence now
Confuted by so many tongues, she hath yielded,
And promised to speak truth. See, here she is.
During this speech Epicharis has been borne in on the litter,
and is set down at the centre of the stage.
Her speech shall now unmask what traitorous faces
Still screen their villany.
Ruf.A woman, Cæsar;
And in the pangs of torture, and fear of death!
What evidence is this?
Ner.What would ye object?
Ruf. Shall Romans have their free lives played with thus?
254
Ner. What puts thee in fear? Silence!—Epicharis,
I bid thee now speak truth before the court.
Piso is dead. Thou seest thy comrades taken.
Truth may not save thy life: yet speak the truth
As thy last hope. Let no man interrupt her.
EPICHARIS (speaks from the litter).
Cæsar, I thank thee that in all my torture
Thou hast spared my tongue to tell thee truth at last:
That I am admitted where my free confession
2375May reach the public ear, nay not denied
Thine own ear, and for that I thank thee most;
And for my torture I thank thee too: ’tis proved
I speak not lightly, and must be well believed.
Thou bidst me, mighty Cæsar, tell thee truth:
Weak is my tongue to tell the mighty truths
Cæsar dare hear, and none hath dared to tell:
And I die . . . hearken quickly. Of all thou seest
There is not one whom thou canst trust: all hate thee . . .
Yet needst thou not, great Cæsar, fear them much;
For all are cowards: nay, there is not among them
One brave enough to kill thee. And yet again,
Great Cæsar, I counsel thee to fear them too;
For all the world ’gainst one will have their way.
I know thou fear’st. Then who is most thy foe?255
Whom first to kill? That I can tell thee, Cæsar:
For none of all thou seest, or ever saw’st,
Or wilt see again, nay, not thy murdered mother,
Thy poisoned brother, thy beheaded wife,
Whose bloody ghosts watch on the banks of hell
To mark thy doom, none hateth thee as I,
Defieth thee as I, curseth thee as I.
O emperor of the world, thine hour is come.
Within thy cankered soul dwell side by side
Remorse and vanity to drive thee mad:
The grecian furies hound thee, the christian devils
2401Dispute for thee. Fly to thy dunghill, Cæsar,
Where thou must perish . . .
Ner.Will none there stop her mouth?
Ep. Plague-spotted, abhorred for ever—by all—accurst—
Asp. Let no man interrupt her!
Ner.Who spoke? Arrest him.—
Epicharis’ last words are spoken as the Soldiers surround
her. She struggles on the litter violently, and falls back
dead. Other Guards arrest Asper.
Who art thou, sir? thy name?
Asp. My name is Asper.
I am centurion under Rufus.
Ner. Rufus,
Know’st thou thy man?
256
Ruf.I grieve, sire, it is true:
He is one of my centurions.
Tig. (who is standing by Epicharis, to Nero). Epicharis is dead.
Ner. Ye have killed her, fools?
Hath she got quit?
Tig.’Twas her own doing, Cæsar:
She meshed her neck among the cords, and so
Hath reft her of what little life remained.
Ner. Remove her to the prison, and let physicians
Attend her at once.
Tig.She is dead. (They carry Epicharis out.)
Ner.Rufus, proceed
With thy centurion.
Asp.If all hate thee, Cæsar,
How wilt thou bid that hater question this?
Asp.Thou that sittest there to judge,
And shouldst stand here, wilt thou dare question me?
Ner.Ha! Rufus, thou turnest pale.
Ruf. With anger I turn pale, that in your presence
A traitor should defame me.
Ner.Be cool, sir:
Thou wast suspected, now accused thou art.257
2423Thou hast but one appeal: In thy worst case
’Tis to thy friends (pointing to accused).
Ruf.Call not those men my friends.
Ner. I’ll see. Speak, traitors all; was Rufus with you?
Luc., Sce., and others. He was. He is guilty.
Ruf.Who dares?
What officer of mine dares raise his hand
Against his general?
That will I, my lord;
Knowing that thou deservest more than all.
Ruf. Help! help!—(To Flavus.) Now, man, strike now or never.
Fla. Hush!
(Rufus is seized after a struggle.)I am the last.
Ner. (stepping down). Now will I mount myself the judge’s seat.
(Fla. rushes forward to stab Nero.)
Ner. Ha! Murder! (Tigellinus, who has watched Flavus, intercepts him. Flavus is seized.)
The inner line of Guards faces outwards, and all present
except the prisoners are driven from centre into the
wings, and the court begins to clear.
Ner. (to Flavus, who is held before him). Who art thou, sir?
258
Fla. A tribune and an honest soldier, Cæsar;
And none more faithful, while you well deserved.
But I began to hate you from the day
You killed your mother, and debased yourself,
Performing to the people: and I am freed
From all my oaths, by all the gods in heaven,
With all the world; and sworn with half the world
To kill thee or be killed.
Ner.Fool! I shall kill thee,
With thy half world, and rule the other half.
(The curtain falls, or scene shuts across.)
SCENE · 4
A room in the palace. Enter Tigellinus.
TIGELLINUS.
Rufus, my rival, is condemned to die:
The city troops are mine: I am secure:
Cæsar I hold by flattery, Rome by force.
Sophronius Tigellinus of Agrigentum!
Of Agrigentum,—well done! be content.
Thou hast the second place in all the world,
And rulest the first; while of thine envious foes,
2450Sulla, Plautus, and Piso, all three are dead:
A few remain: but on the Spaniard Seneca
Shall the Sicilian eagle swoop to-night,259
As on a flying hare. Poppæa, in this
My keen ally, hunts with me eagerly.
Enter Nero and Poppæa.
Hail, mighty Cæsar! fairest Augusta, hail!
(They salute.)
The assassin hath not hurt thy spirits?
Tig.Dined well, I pray the gods.
Ner.Superbly.—
We sent to speak with thee of Seneca;
What should be done.
Tig.What hath been done already?
Ner. Hark, I will tell thee. I sent a letter to him,
Pressing the information of Natalis;—
‘Why, if thou knewest of this plot’—I said—
‘Didst not thou warn me? And if thou knewest not,
What was thy reason why thou didst refuse
Audience to Piso, alleging that such meetings
Were good for neither; adding also, I hold
Thy life needful for mine?’ Now I await
His answer.
Tig.The tribune is returned.
Ner.Impossible;
Seneca is in Campania.
260
Tig.Nay, your majesty;
He is in the suburbs: he returned to-day,
Trusting his wit before his innocence.
[Exit Tigellinus.Ner. Go, fetch the tribune in.
POPPÆA.
Ner. I dally not: I go the shortest way
To find if he be guilty.
2475Ner. Romans are free. There is no man can be touched
On an unproven charge.
Ner. Cæsar administers the law, while it
Can minister to him.
Re-enter Tigellinus.
Tig.Here is his answer written.
Ner. Read it us, Tigellinus.
Tig.If I can . . .
The letters are so pinched and shaky . . . it needs
The scholarship of Cæsar.
Ner.Give it to me.
(Reads.) ‘To Cæsar, Lucius Annæus Seneca
Greeting . . . In answer to thy message; first
’Tis true that once Natalis came to me261
From Piso, and begged that I would visit him:
And I excused myself on plea of sickness,
And need of quiet: As to the words imputed,
However I may prize thy safety, Cæsar,
I have no cause to set a private person’s
Above my own; nor do I stoop to flattery,
As well thou knowest; nor to such shallow arts
As would hide treason in a salutation.’
Ner.’Tis all. He is not guilty.
Pop.Why, he confesses it.
Ner. I know the man: his mind is here at ease.
The style is pithy and careless. When he has aught
To excuse, he is wordy.
Tig.He was wordy enough
In the matter of Agrippina, true.
Pop. And in the matter of Britannicus.
2500Ner. Why raise these matters now?
Tig.These are the matters
That Seneca harps on: while he lives they live.
Pop. These are the deeds Epicharis charged against thee.
Tig. This was the root of Flavus’ hate.
262
Pop. ’Tis this
The people mean, who whisper when I pass,
‘Octavia, Octavia.’
Tig.And he now persuades
Half Rome ’twas not himself who did these things,
But thou . . . which thou, permitting him to live,
Indorsest with thy name; dost set, I say,
The imperial warrant on the black account:
As orphans sign away their patrimony
To scheming uncles; as unwitting pupils
To crafty tutors fall a prey.
Ner.One lesson
He taught me perfectly, that is to hate him.
Pop. Thy hate and love go by half measures, Nero.
Tig. ’Twere pretty, Cæsar, wert thou a private person,
To play the philosopher upon the man
Who led thee astray—albeit to sacrifice
Thy wife and friend,—if he who saved thy life
May style himself thy friend . . .
Ner.Yes, friend; thou savedst
My life to-day.
2520Tig.And yet saved not, if thou
Wilt throw it straight away, and with thy saviour’s.
Ner. Stay, I am resolved: I will not vex you further:
I yield. I know there is no man in the world,263
Nor ever was, but hath his flaw: In some
’Tis a foul blot, that in the eye of nature
Stands out unpardonable and unredeemed
By all the school of virtues, howsoe’er
They dance in grace around it: In another
’Tis like a beauty-mark, a starry mole
2530Which on a virgin’s body but sets off
The dazzling flesh, that else were self-extinguished
In its own fairness.—Yet by these flecks and flaws,
Whate’er they be, ’tis fated that men fall:
And thus may I, nay must; unless in time
I heed good warning, for my fault is gross.
I am over-generous; yes; ye say it; I know it.
That is my flaw. It is because my schemes
Are wider than his own, that Seneca hates me:
Because the world hath tasted more of freedom
Under my rule than under any Cæsar
Who went before—and that can no man question—
It is for this my throne hath more been envied,
And by more plots and treacheries besieged,
Than ever others were: and when I saw
(My safety and the people’s good being one)
I must make holocaust of private feelings
To that which helped the whole, then ’twas for that
The bungling crowd condemned me, & where I looked
For gratitude to be my consolation,264
2550I met reproach. ’Twas Seneca, ye say,
Who did those things. ’Tis true those deeds were his
In reason and connivence; but in the act,
Doing and suffering they were mine, and are.
Yet now, if he withdraw his countenance,
Condemn, wear vulgar horror on his face,
And turn men’s hearts against me, what could move
My anger more if I were vain or cruel?
No. Have your will;—and if I hinder not,
He cannot blame me; since I do but play
Seneca to your Cæsar.
Tig.I thank thee, sire.
He dies to-night; or shall we wait to have him
Compose the palliation?
[Exit Tig.Ner.Jest not; ’tis done.
Pop. You have talked too long, Nero; come in & rest.
Ner. He was my tutor once, and once I loved him.
Pop. You might have done it with a nod.
Ner.He is old:
I rob him not of much. The end of life
Is tedious, I believe. Come back, Poppæa;
And while we are in our prime, let us be merry
[Exeunt.And thank the gods.
265
SCENE · 5
(As epilogue.)
Scene withdraws and shows Seneca’s garden in the suburbs:
a table set out under a tree.
Enter SENECA, THRASEA, and PRISCUS.
SENECA.
This way: I have bid them set a table, Thrasea,
Under my favourite tree. Here let us sit,
And watch the April sunset; the mild air
Permits this summer pleasure.
I long doubted
Whether to come upon an invitation
2575Written before these troubles.
Sen.You did well
Not to desert me. Fannia too shall comfort
My grieved Paullina.—Here is the best wine
Of all my vineyards: drink to my long journey:—
But first remember solemnly our friends
Who have already died to-day: I pour
This cup to them, and specially must name
My nephew Lucan.
266
Thr.’Tis an ancient custom.
Sen. (offering to Thrasea). And should be kept.
Thr. (taking and sprinkling). I’ll name the gentle Piso.
PRISCUS (taking from Thrasea).
(Sprinkling.)This to Epicharis.
Thr.Well spoken, son.
No better wish than that we all may die
Bravely as she.
Sen.So be it! Now let us sit. (They sit.)
And I between (sitting). I would so spend this hour,.
That ye shall not forget it in after-days,
When ye think of me. ’Tis the last time, friends,
That ye will sup with me.
Pr.Nay, say not so:
I trust you have escaped.
Sen.Look on yon sun:
An hour hence he will set; and now he sinks
Smiling eternal promises. Ye both
Shall see him rise, but I—I shall not see it.
This tree shall hang its branches, and another
May sit and comfort his poetic sadness.
As I have done, only not I: I only
Not here . . . not there, where I have been: all things
Have hitherto existed with me, henceforth
All will exist without me.
267
Sen. Nay, it is so; what else could Cæsar mean?
Thr. Your answer may convince him.
Sen.Nay, good Thrasea;
These be the last hours of my life: I’d say
To you, my friends, what I have most at heart.
And first rejoice with me that I depart
With all my senses perfect, not as some,
Tortured by pain and praying for release;
Nor like a man, who walking in the dark,
Comes to a brink upright, and steppeth over
Unhesitatingly, because he knows not.
Nor is my term much shortened, I shall die
Like aged Socrates, and with his hope
That the spirit doth not perish;—I mean not
A senseless immortality of fame:
That I shall have, but more I’ll have; I dream
Of life in which I may be Seneca again,
Seneca still.
Thr. Now if thou couldst convince us,
Seneca, of that, ’twere worthy thy last hour.
Teach me to picture what thou thinkst to see,
That land betwixt oblivion and regret;
Where is’t? how is it?
Sen.It lies not in the scope
Of demonstration, Thrasea; but my heart268
Bears witness to it: the best that I could say
Is in my books. What all mankind desires,
2625The mind requires; what it requires believes:
And calls it truth. I hold that one God made us,
And at our death receives our spirits kindly:
We shall meet elsewhere those whom we leave here.
Pr. This will not comfort Romans: Nero again,
And Tigellinus....
Sen.Why may there not be
Distinction, Priscus, as old fables tell;
Rewards for good, and punishments for ill?
The myths are gross and brutal, but philosophy
Finds reason in religion.
Thr.Then the vulgar,
’Gainst whom you have waged your philosophic war,
Hold the last truth.
Sen.The sanction of all truth
Lies in our common nature. A religion
Based on the truth of what all men desire
Must carry all before it.
Thr.But you said
Philosophy found reason in religion.
What is your ground?
Sen.My first is this, that else
All were unjust. It needs a second life
To set this even.
269
Thr.You have not found in life
Its own reward?
Thr.I know not
If ’tis not sadder, this profound impeachment
Of God’s whole constitution as we see it,
Than the belief that death’s our end of all.
To live in conscious harmony with nature
May satisfy our being; but religion
2650Looks like the poetry which childhood makes
To cloke its empty terrors, or bedizen
Its painted idols: such is my persuasion.
Sen.Ah, Priscus, thou art young. I once
Looked forward into life with a proud heart,
Nor saw the exigency and irony
Of all-subduing Fate. Consider, Priscus,
Whether your father’s virtue or Nero’s crimes
Have found their recompense.
Pr.If Thrasea’s heart
Is comforted by virtue, sir, and Nero
Made wretched by his crime . . .
Sen.Then put it thus:
If any were to make a tragedy
Of these events, how would it pass or please,
If Nero lived on at the end unpunished,270
Triumphing still o’er good?
Thr.Yes, Seneca:
But see you make not now your god of the stage
The God of Nature. Our true tragedy
Is just this outward riddle, and the god
That mends all, comes not in pat at his cue
On a machine, but liveth in our hearts
Resolving evil faster than it falls,
As the sun melts the snow.
Sen.’Tis not enough,
Thrasea, ’tis not enough: there must be more.
Hear you a tramping? That is Cæsar’s men:
They will surround the garden. Come aside.
(Comes to front with Thrasea.)
2675Stand by me, Thrasea, to the last. I would not
Slur the last act of life. Be thou my witness
Of word and deed.
Enter Paullina with Fannia, who goes to Priscus.
PAULLINA.
O Seneca, they are come;
They are come again.
Sen.Dear wife, remember, and help me.—
See, friends, the sun is almost set; ’tis time
We went within.
271
Sen. (to Paullina). Thy tears distract me,
And shame us both.
Enter a Centurion.
CENTURION.
Sen. Well, sir: thy message? Art not thou Silvanus,
That stoodst with Rufus and with Subrius Flavus?
How hast thou wriggled out?
Cent.I am Silvanus,
And bring thee Cæsar’s bidding.
Sen.Hush, wife: be brave.—A man
Need not be shamed, sirs, that his wife bewail him.
(To Paullina.) Go thou, Paullina, fetch my will.
Cent.Stay, madam:
’Tis not allowed.
Sen.This is unkind: my wealth
Was Cæsar’s gift: but now he takes from me
More than he ever gave, my life: ’tis mean
To grudge me my last freedom, the little use
I’d make of his old favours. I but wished
To leave mementoes to three loving friends,272
Who have supped with me to-night.—In lieu thereof
The example of my constancy shall be
More lively undelayed by gentle speeches
And farewell gifts. Come with me, all is ready.
Sen.Farewell, friends! Farewell, Paullina!
Sen.Yes, we must part: the day
Is not much hastened. See how skeleton-like
Already the hand, with which I go to shear
The filmy threads of life.
Pau.But I will die
With thee.
Sen.Be still. Let not thy heart rebel.
Now is the hour of proof.
Pau.If ’twere God’s will.
Sen. All is God’s will: and as we lived together
In love, so now we part.
Pau.Why should we part?
What thou doest I will do: I fear not death.
I’ll hold my little candle by thy sun....
Sen. It may not be. Use thy high courage rather
To live. Yes, live in peace: live long.
Pau.With thee
Murdered! Alas!
Sen.Give me thy last embrace.
273
Pau. Was not my faith then true? Are we not one?
Sen. Yes, yes: we are one.
Pau.Then now forbid me not
To die with thee.
FANNIA.
Do not this thing, madam!
Sen.Paullina, dost thou make
This desperate choice truly with all thy heart?
Sen.Thou dost? Dear wife, I thought
Cæsar could part us: now I can forgive him.—
To you, my friends, farewell! Thrasea, farewell!
Priscus, farewell! Fannia, farewell!—Paullina,
(Taking her hand)
Since thou canst dare, we will go hand in hand
To learn the mighty secret; we will set forth
2724Together unto the place where all have gone.
