Asinaria, or The Ass-Dealer (838-877c)

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

Don’t you say that.

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

Well then, look at me; I’m laughing.

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

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

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

But I have a fancy for this one.

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

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

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

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

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

Trust me in nothing henceforth, either divine or human,

Artemona, if you find me untruthful in this matter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just stop there.

What’s the matter?