The Comedies of Plautus

Vol. 2

THE COMEDIES OF

LITERALLY TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH PROSE, WITH NOTES,

BY HENRY THOMAS RILEY, B.A., LATE SCHOLAR OF CLARE HALL, CAMBRIDGE.

IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II.

CONTAINING THE AMPHITRYON, RUDENS, MERCATOR, CISTELLARIA, TRUCULENTUS, PERSA, CASINA, PŒNULUS, EPIDICUS, MOSTELLARIA, AND FRAGMENTS.

LONDON: GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 1890.

LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED. STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.

PREFACE.

In the Translation of the Plays contained in the present volume, the text of Fleckeisen has been adopted for the Amphitryon and the Rudens, and that of Weise (as given in the Tauchnitz Edition) for the others. In the supposed interpolations of the Amphitryon and Mercator, Schmieder has been followed.

The previous English translations of the author are few in number. A part of the Menæchmi (translated, it is supposed, by William Warner) was published in 1595; to which reference will be found at page 372 of Vol. I. In the latter part of the seventeenth century Echard translated the Amphitryon, Rudens, and Epidicus. Thornton remarks that "his style is coarse and indelicate; when he aims at being familiar, he is commonly low and vulgar." In 1747, Cooke, the Translator of Terence, published a version of the Amphitryon, which Thornton speaks of as apparently intended "merely for the use of learners."

Of Thornton's translation of Plautus as a poetical work, it is impossible to speak in other than terms of admiration; but from the circumstance of its being blank verse, it is not sufficiently close to convey to the English reader an accurate idea of the peculiar style of the author.

A professed translation of seven of the Comedies of Plautus was published by the Lev. G. S. Cotter in 1827, but in it he avowedly omits a large portion of the text, and a still larger portion without the least intimation.

In the present translation, particular attention has been given to the difficult and obscure passages, and it may not be presumptuous to hope that the Notes will be found of value to the classical student.

It is hardly necessary to remind the Reader that the asterisks in the text denote where portions of the original are lost.

H. T. R.

CONTENTS.

Cistellaria

CISTELLARIA; OR, THE CASKET.

Dramatis Personæ

Dramatis Personæ.

The God of Help, who speaks the Prologue in the Second Act.

Demipho, a merchant of Lemnos. Alcesimarchus, a young man of Sicyon. Lampadiscus, servant of Demipho.

Phanostrata, wife of Demipho. Silenium, their daughter, beloved by Alcesimarchus. Melænis, a Procuress. Halisca, her servant. A Procuress, the mother of Gymnasium. Gymnasium a Courtesan.

Scene—Sicyon, in Peloponnesus. Before the houses of Demipho, Silenium, and the father of Alcesimarchus.

The Subject

The Subject.

Demiphro, a merchant of Lemnos, having ravished Phanostrata, a young woman of Sicyon, she is brought to bed of a female child. This she gives to her servant Lampadiscus, to be exposed. On this being done, in the sight of Lampadiscus, a Procuress picks up the infant, and afterwards make a present of it to her friend Melænis, by whom it is brought up, under the name of Silenium. Alcesimarchus, a young man in Sicyon, falls violently in love with her, and takes her under his protection. In the meantime, Demipho, who has married another wife, after her death marries Phanostrata, and comes to live at Sicyon. He and his wife are then anxious, if possible, to regain their lost child. The daughter of Demipho by his first wife is destined by her father to become the wife of Alcesimarchus; on hearing which, Melænis removes her foster-child from his protection. At this conjuncture Lampadiscus finds out the Procuress that had taken up the infant when exposed, and from her discovers that the child of his mistress is with Melænis. He informs his mistress of this, while Melænis is, unknown to them, standing by; upon which she determines to confess the truth, and to restore Silenium to her parents. While she is thinking upon this plan, Alcesimarchus lays hands on Silenium, and carries her off to his father's house. In the confusion attendant on this, Halisca, the servant of Melænis, drops a casket in the street, containing some trinkets which had been worn by Silenium at the time when she was exposed. Phanostrata and Lampadiscus find the casket, and on Halisca coming to search for it, they discover where Silenium is. They go into the house, and Phanostrata discovers her long-lost child.

Act I

CISTELLARIA; OR, THE CASKET.

THE ACROSTIC ARGUMENT.

[Supposed to have been written by Priscian the Grammarian.]

A Young man of Lemnos ravishes (Comprimit) a woman of Sicyon. He (Is) returns to his country, and becomes father of a daughter by his marriage there. The woman of Sicyon (Sicyonia) also bears a daughter. A servant takes (Tollit) and exposes her, and keeps watch in secret; her (Eam), taken up, a Courtesan presents to another. Coming back afterwards from Lemnos (Lemno), he marries her whom he had ravished; and his daughter born at Lemnos (Lemni) he promises in marriage to a young man captivated by passion (Amore) for the one that had been exposed. On making enquiry (Requirens), the servant finds her whom he had exposed; and so (Itaque) legally and properly does Alcesimarchus (Alcesimarchus) gain her recognized as a free woman, whom before he had had as a concubine.

Act I.—Scene I.

Enter Silenium, Gymnasium, and Procuress, from the house of Silenium.

Sil. Inasmuch as hitherto I have loved you, and have deemed you to be my friend, my dear Gymnasium, and your mother as well; so have you shown it to me this day, both you and she. If you had been my own sister, how more you two could possibly have held me in esteem I know not; but, according as is my way of thinking, I conceive it could not possibly be; such ready assistance, all other things laid aside, have you given me. for this reason do I love you, and for it a vast obligation have you both conferred upon me.

Gym. I' faith, at such a price as this, indeed, it's easy for us to give you our attendance and to do you good offices; so handsomely and so elegantly have you entertained us at breakfast at your house, as we shall ever remember.

Sil. It has been done with hearty good will by me, and will be done, to get those things which I shall think you are desirous of.

Proc. As the man said, who was borne by a prospering breeze on a calm sea: "I rejoice that we came to you;" in such a delightful manner have we been here this day received; nor except in the management, was there anything there at your house but what pleased me.

Sil. How so, prithee?

Proc. Too seldom did the servant give me something to drink, and, as it was, it clouded the colour of the wine.

Gym. Pray, is that becoming to be mentioned here?

Proc. It's both right and proper; there's no other person here. Sil. With reason do I love you both, who esteem and honor me.

Proc. I' faith, my dear Silenium, it befits this class to be kindly disposed among themselves, and carefully to keep up friendships, when you see these matrons of elevated rank, born of the noblest families, how they value friendship, and how carefully they keep it united between themselves. If we do that same thing, if we imitate the same example, still as it is, with difficulty do we exist with their extreme dislike. Of their own enjoyments they would have us to be in want, in resources of our own they would have us not to possess any power, and to stand in need of them in all matters, that we may be their humble servants. If you wait upon them, you'd rather be giving your room than your company. So very kind are they before the world to our class; in private, if ever there's the opportunity, underhandedly they pour cold water upon us. They declare that we are in the habit of having commerce with their husbands; they say that we are their supplanters; they attempt to crush us. Because we are the free daughters of slaves, both I and your mother, we became Courtesans; she brought up yourself, and I this girl (pointing to Gymnasium), by chance-fathers. Nor yet for the sake of vanity have I driven her to the calling of a Courtesan, but that I mightn't starve.

Sil. But it had been better to give her in marriage to a husband in preference.

Proc. Heyday, now! Surely, faith, she's married to a husband every day; she has both been married to one to-day, she'll be marrying again to-night. I've never allowed her to go to bed a widow. For if she weren't to be marrying, the household would perish with doleful famine.

Gym. It behoves me, mother, to be just as you wish I should be.

Proc. I' troth, I don't regret it, if you will prove such as you say you'll be; for if, indeed, you shall be such as I intend, you'll never be a Hecale in your old age, and you'll ever keep that same tender age which you now have, and you'll prove a loss to many and a profit to myself full oft, without any outlay of my own.

Gym. May the Gods grant it.

Proc. Without your own energies, the Gods cannot possibly do anything in this.

Gym I' faith, for my own part, I'll zealously devote my energies to it. But what mean you amid this conversation, apple of my eye, my own Silenium? (never did I see you more sad;) prithee, do tell me, why does mirth so shun you? And you are not so neat as you usually are. (Silenium sighs.) Do look at that, please, how deep a sigh she heaved. You are pale too. Tell us both what's the matter with you, and in what you want our aid; so that we may know. Prithee, don't by your tears be causing me anxiety.

Sil. My dear Gymnasium, I'm sadly affected; I feel ill, I am shockingly distrest; I am pained in spirits, I feel pain in my eyes, I am in pain from faintness. What shall I say, but that my own folly drives me to sadness?

Gym. Take you care, then, that you have your folly entombed in that very same place from which it takes its rise. Sil. What shall I do? Gym. Hide it in darkness, in the very deepest recesses of your breast. Take you care and have it so, that you yourself are alone sensible of your own folly, without any other witnesses.

Sil. But I've got the heart-ache.

Gym. Why so? For what reason have you the heart-ache, prithee, tell me, a thing that I neither have, nor any other woman whatever, according as the men say?

Sil. If there's any heart to feel pain, it does feel pain; but if there isn't, still this pains me here. (Pointing to her left-side.)

Proc. This woman's in love.

Gym. Come now, to begin to be in love, is it bitter, prithee?

Proc. Why, troth, love is most fruitful both in honey and in gall; inasmuch as it produces sweetness in a mere taste, but causes bitterness even to repletion.

Sil. Of that character is the malady that afflicts me, my dear Gymnasium.

Gym. Love is full of treachery.

Sil. He's taking his spoils of me, then.

Gym. Be of good courage, you'll get the better of this malady. Sil. I trust it will be so, if the physician comes that can administer the medicine to this malady.

Gym. He will come. Sil. A hard expression is that to one in love, "He will come," unless he does come. But by my own fault and foolishness, am I, wretched creature, more afflicted, because for him alone have I longed for myself, with whom to pass my life.

Proc. That is more suitable to a married woman, my dear Silenium, to love but one, and with him to pass her life, to whom she has once been married; but, indeed, a Courtesan is most like a flourishing city; she cannot alone increase her fortunes without a multitude of men.

Sil. I want you to give heed to this matter; the thing on account of which you have been sent for me, I'll disclose. Now, my mother, because I don't wish myself to be called a Courtesan, complied with my desire; in that matter she indulged myself who have been obedient to her; to allow me to live with him alone whom I so ardently loved.

Proc. I' faith, she acted foolishly. But look, have you ever kept company with any man?

Sil. With no one, indeed, except Alcesimarchus; nor has any other person whatever committed an infringement on my chastity. Proc. Prithee, by what means did this man gain your good graces?

Sil. At the festival of Bacchus my mother took me to see the procession. While I was returning home, from a secret look-out he secretly traced me even to the door; after that, he insinuated himself into the friendship of my mother and myself as well, by endearments, presents, and gifts.

Proc. I should like a man of that sort to be offered me. How I'd work him.

Sil. What need is there of words? Through intercourse, I on the other hand began to love him, and he myself.

Proc. O my dear Silenium——!

Sil. What's the matter? Proc. You ought to pretend to be in love; for if you fall in love at once, you'll be much better consulting the interests of him whom you love than your own.

Sil. But in solemn form he took an oath before my mother that he would take me as his wife. Now, another woman is about to be taken home by him, a Lemnian lady, his relation, who is living here hard by (pointing to Demipho's house); for his father has compelled him. Now my mother is enraged with me, because I didn't return home to her, when I came to know of this matter, that he was about to take another as his wife.

Proc. Nothing's unfair in love.

Sil. Now, I entreat you that you'll let her (pointing to Gymnasium) be here only for the next three days, and keep house for me; for I've been sent for to my mother's house.

Proc. Although this will be a troublesome three days for me, and you'll be causing me a loss, I'll do so.

Sil. You act kindly and like a friend. But you, my dear Gymnasium, if in my absence Alcesimarchus shall come, don't you chide him roughly; however he has deserved of myself, still he has my affections; but, prithee, act gently, so that you mayn't say anything that may cause him pain. Take the keys (giving them to her); if you have need to take out anything for use, take it out. I wish to go——

Gym. (weeping). How you have drawn tears from me.

Sil. My dear Gymnasium, kindly, farewell.

Gym. Take care of yourself, there's a dear. Prithee, will you go in this dishabille? {Pointing to her dress.)

Sil. It's right that such neglect should attent upon my prospects thus disarranged.

Gym. At least do lift up that outer garment.

Sil. Let it be dragged, while I myself am being dragged down.

Gym. Since so it pleases you, fare you well and prosper.

Sil. If I could, I would.

(Exit.

Gym. Mother, do you wish anything of me, before I go in-doors? Upon my faith, to me she does seem to be in love.

Proc. For this reason, then, it is, that I'm repeatedly dinning it into your ears, not to be in love with any man. Go in-doors.

Gym. Do you wish anything of me?

Proc. That you may fare well. Gym. Fare you well. (Gymnasium goes into the house of Silenium.)

Scene II.—The Procuress, alone.

Proc. (to the Audience). It's the same fault with myself as with a great part of us women who are following this calling; who, as soon as ever we have got our load of food, are forthwith full of talk; more than is enough do we say. Why, myself now, inasmuch as I'm filled to my heart's content, and because I've charged myself quite full of the choicest of wine, it pleases me to use my tongue more at freedom; to my misfortune I can't keep silent on that which it were necessary to be silent upon. But once upon a time, that girl, who has gone hence in tears, from a lane I carried off a little child exposed. There is here a certain youth, of the highest rank; his father, of a very high family, is living at Sicyon; he is dying desperately in love for this young woman, who has just now gone hence in tears; on the other hand, she is smitten with love. I made a present of her to my friend, this Courtesan; who had often made mention of it to me that somewhere I must find for her a boy or a girl, just born, that she herself might pass it off as her own. As soon as ever the opportunity befell me, I immediately granted her request in that which she had asked of me. After she had received this female child from me, at once she was brought to bed of the same female child which she had received from me, without the aid of a midwife and without pain, just as other women bring forth, who seek a trouble to themselves; but she said that her lover was a foreigner, and that by reason of that circumstance she was palming it off. This, we two alone are aware of, I who gave the child to her, and she who received it from me; (to the Audience) except yourselves, indeed. Thus was this affair managed; if any occasion should arise, I wish you to remember this circumstance. I'm off home. (Exit.

Scene III.—Enter the God of Help, who speaks the Prologue.

(To the Audience.) This old woman is both a much-talker and a much-tippler. Isn't it the fact that she has hardly left room to a Divinity for him to speak, so much has she forestalled him in talking about the substitution of this girl? But if she had held her tongue, still I was about to mention it—a God, who could do it better; for my name is Help. Now (to the Audience) lend your attention, that I may clearly explain this plot to you. Some time since, at Sicyon, there was the Festival of Bacchus; a merchant of Lemnos came hither to the games, and he, an ungovernable young man, ravished a maiden in the dark, in the street, at the dead of night. He, as he knew that he was deserving of a heavy punishment, at once found shelter with his heels, and made off for Lemnos, where he then lived. She whom he had ravished, the ninth ensuing month completed, brought forth a daughter here. Since she did not know the person guilty of this deed, who he was, she made the servant of her father partaker of her counsels, and gave to that servant the child to be exposed to death. He exposed it; this woman took up the child; that servant, who had exposed it, secretly took note whither or to what house she carried away the child. As you have heard her own self confess, she gave this child to the Courtesan Melænis; and she brought her up as being her own daughter, honestly and virtously. But then, this Lemnian married a neighbour there, his relation, for his wife. She departed this life; there she was compliant to her husband. After he had performed the due obsequies to his wife, at once he removed hither; here he married for his wife that same woman whom formerly, when a maid, he ravished. When he understood that it was she whom he had ravished, she told him that, in consequence of the violation, she had brought forth a daughter, and had at once given her to a servant to be exposed. He forthwith ordered this same servant to make enquiries, if anyhow he could discover who had taken it up. Now to that task is the servant always assiduously devoting his attention, if he can find out that Courtesan, whom formerly, when he himself exposed her, he from his hiding-place had seen take her up. Now, what remains unpaid, I wish to discharge, that my name may be struck out, so that I mayn't remain a debtor. A young man is here at Sicyon, his father is alive; with affection he distractedly dotes upon this exposed girl, who just now went hence in tears unto her mother; and she loves him in return, which is the most delightful love of all. As human matters go, nothing is granted for everlasting: the father is wishful to give the young man a wife. When the mother came to know of this, she ordered her to be sent for home. Thus have these matters come to pass. Kindly fare you well, and conquer by inborn valour, as you have done before; defend your allies, both ancient ones and new; increase resources by your righteous laws; destroy your foes; laud and laurels gather; that, conquered by you, the Pœni may suffer the penalty.

(Exit.

Act II

Act II.—Scene I.

Enter Alcesimarchus and Melænis.

Alc. I do believe that Love was the first to invent torture among mankind. This conjecture do I form from myself at home, not to go seek it out of doors; I, who surpass all men, exceed them in the pangs of my feelings. I'm tossed, tormented, agitated, goaded, whirled on the wheel of love in my misery, I'm deprived of sensation, carried one way, carried another way, I'm torn and rent asunder; such clouded faculties of mind have I, where am I, there I am not; where I am not, there my thoughts are; to such a degree have I now all kinds of feelings in me; what I like, then all at once I like not the same; so much does love trifle with me changing my mind, drive me, pursue, desire, and seize for itself, retain, trepan, and promise; what it gives, it gives not; it deludes me; what this moment it has persuaded me, it now dissuades me from; what it has dissuaded me from, it now point out to me that same. After the manner of the sea is it experienced by me; so much does it distract my enamoured feelings; and only in that, in my misery, I do not sink utterly, is there any evil removed from me thus ruined; in such a way has my father detained me these six days running in the country, at his house there; nor has it been allowed me in the meantime to visit my mistress. Isn't this dreadful to relate?

Mel. Are you joking for this reason, because, you've got another wife engaged, a rich lady of Lemnos? Have her then! We are neither of a family so great as you are, nor is our wealth so substantial as yours; but still I have no fears that any one will impeach our oath; you then, if you shall feel any pain, will know for what reason you do feel pain.

Alc. May the Gods confound me—— Mel. Whatever you wish for, I desire it may befall you.

Alc. If ever I'll marry that wife which my father has engaged for me.

Mal. And me, if ever I give yon my daughter for a wife.

Alc. Will you allow me to be forsworn?

Mel. Yes, and a little more easily than myself and my affairs to go to ruin, and my daughter to be trifled with. Begone! go seek where there is confidence enough in your oaths; here now, with us, Alcesimarchus, you've renounced your title to our friendship.

Alc. Make trial of me but once. Mel. I have made that trial full oft; which I lament has been so made.

Alc. Give her back to me. Mel. Under new circumstances I'll use an old proverb: "What I have given, I wish I had not given; what's left, that I shall not give."

Alc. Won't you restore her again to me?

Mel. Answer yourself for me.

Alc. You won't restore her then?

Mel. You know the whole of my resolution already.

Alc. Is that quite resolved upon by you in your heart?

Mel. Why, in fact, I'm thinking about something else; i' faith, I don't at present catch these words of yours with my ears.

Alc. Not hear? Why, what are you doing?

Mel. Then do you give heed at once, that you may know what you are doing.

Alc. Then, so may the Gods and Goddesses of above and below, and of middle rank, and so may Juno the queen and the daughter of supreme Jove, and so may Saturn his uncle——

Mel. I' troth, his father——

Alc. And so may Ops the opulent, his grandam——

Mel. Indeed, his mother, rather.

Alc. Juno his daughter, and Saturn his uncle, supreme Jove—You are maddening me; it's through you I make these mistakes. Mel. Go on saying so.

Alc. Is it that I'm to know what conclusion you are going to come to? Mal. Go on talking; I shall not send her back, that's resolved upon.

Alc. Why then, so may Jupiter, and so may Juno and Saturn, to me, so may—I don't know what to say—Now I know—Yes, madam, listen, that you may know my mind; may all the Deities, great and small, and those honored with the platter * * * cause me not surviving to give a kiss this day to Silenium, if I don't this very day murder you and your daughter and myself, and after that, with the break of day, if I don't to-morrow kill you both, and indeed, by all the powers, if at the third onset I don't demolish you all, if you don't send her back to me. I've said what I intended. Farewell. (Goes into his Father's house.)

Mel. (to herself.) He's gone in-doors in a rage. What shall I do now? If she comes back to him, matters will be just in the same position. When satiety begins to take possession; he'll be turning her out of doors, when he shall be bringing home this Lemnian wife. But still I'll go and follow him; there's necessity for caution, lest he, in love, should be doing some mischief. In fine, since with strict justice a poor person's not allowed to contend with a rich one, I'll lose my labour rather than lose my daughter. But who's this that straight along the street is directing his course this way? Both the other matter do I fear, and this do I dread; so utterly in trepidation am wretched I. (She stands aside.)

Scene II.—Enter Lampadiscus.

Lam. (to himself). I've followed the old woman with my clamour through the streets; I've kept her most dreadfully plagued. In what a multitude of ways has she, this day, kept guard upon herself, and been able to remember nothing. How many alluring things, what advantages I've promised her. How many inventions I've applied to her, how many stratagems in questioning her. With difficulty have I extorted it from her that she should tell me, because I promised to give her a cask of wine.

Scene III.—Enter Phanostrata, from her house.

Phan. (to herself). I seemed just now to be hearing the voice of my servant Lampadiscus before the house.

Lam. (stepping forward). You are not deaf, mistress, you heard aright.

Phan. What are you doing here?

Lam. A thing for you to rejoice at.

Phan. What's that?

Lam. (pointing to the house of Silenium). A little while ago, I saw a woman coming out of that house there.

Phan. Her that took up my daughter?

Lam. You have the matter right.

Phan. What after that? Lam. I told her in what way I had seen her take up the daughter of my mistress from the Hippodrome. Then she was in a fright.

Mel. (apart). Now my body's in a shudder, my heart is throbbing; for I recollect that from the Hippodrome the little female infant was brought to me, and that I brought it up as my own.

Phan. Come, prithee, do go on; my soul's longing to hear how the matter proceeded.

Mel. (apart). I only wish you couldn't hear.

Lam. I proceed * * * saying, "This old woman calls you her daughter wrongfully. * * * * * * * * For this woman here is your foster-mother, so don't think she is your mother. I'm to take you back and invite you to opulence, where you may be settled in a noble family, where your father may present you with twenty great talents for a portion. For this is not a place where after the Etrurian mode you are disgracefully to earn a dowry for yourself by prostitution of your person."

Phan. Is she, pray, a Courtesan, who took it up?

Lam. Yes, she was a Courtesan. But how it happened, I'll tell you about that matter. I was now winning her over to me by my persuasion. The old woman embraced her knees, weeping and entreating that she would not forsake her; saying that she was her own daughter; and she took a solemn oath to me that she herself had borne her. "Her," said she, "whom you are in search of, I gave to a friend of mine to bring her up as her own daughter; and she is alive," said she. "Where is she?" immediately said I.

Phan. Preserve me, ye Gods, I do entreat you.