Aulularia, or The Concealed Treasure (653b-725)

You are mad; you’ve searched me all over at your own pleasure, and yet you’ve found nothing of yours in my possession.

Stop, stop; who was that? Who was the other[*] that was within here, together with yourself? Troth, I’m undone; he’s now rummaging about within. If I let this one go, he’ll escape. At last, I’ve now searched this one all over; he has got nothing. Be off where you please;

Jupiter and the Gods confound you!

He returns his thanks not amiss[*].

I’ll go in here now, and I’ll at once throttle this accomplice of yours. Will you not fly hence from my sight? Will you away from here, or no?

I’m off.

Take you care, please, how I see you.

I would rather that I were dead outright, by a shocking death, than not lay an ambush this day for that old fellow. But he’ll not venture now to hide his gold here; he’ll now be carrying it with him, I guess, and be changing the spot.

But hark! there’s a noise at the door. (Looking in the direction of the Temple.) See, the old fellow’s bringing out the gold with him! Meanwhile, I’ll step aside here to the door.

I had thought that there was the very greatest dependence upon Faith; very nearly had she played me a pretty trick[*]. If the raven hadn’t come to my assistance, to my sorrow I should have been undone.

Troth, I very much wish that raven would come to me which gave me the warning, that I might say something kind to him; for I would as soon give[*] him something to eat as lose it. Now I’m thinking of a lonely spot where I shall hide this. The grove of Sylvanus, outside of the wall, is unfrequented,

and planted with many a willow; there will I choose a spot. I’m determined to trust Sylvanus [*], rather than Faith.

Capital! capital! the Gods will me to be safe and preserved! Now will I run before to that place, and climb up into some tree, and thence will I watch where the old fellow hides the gold.

Although my master bade me remain here, I’m resolved rather to risk a mishap along with emolument.

I’ve told you all, mother; as well as I do myself, you understand all about the daughter of Euclio. Now, I do entreat you, my mother, make mention of it to my uncle, and I now unask of you, mother, that which before I entreated of you, to conceal this from Megadorus.

You know, yourself, that what you desire to be done, I desire, and I trust that I shall obtain this of my brother; and the reason is good, if ’tis so as you say, that in a drunken fit you debauched this damsel.

Could I, my mother, tell a falsehood in your presence?

I die, my nurse; my pangs are coming on! I entreat thee for thy protection, Juno Lucina[*]!

Ah! my mother, I see a more convincing proof for you; she’s crying aloud—she’s in the pangs of labour.

Come in-doors here, with me, my son, to my brother,

that I may obtain a grant from him of that which you beg of me.

Go; I’ll follow you this instant, mother. (EUNOMIA goes into the house.) But my servant, Strobilus, I wonder where he is, whom I ordered to wait here for me. Now I reflect with myself, if he’s lending me his assistance, it isn’t fair that I should be angry with him.

I’ll go in-doors, where they are sitting in judgment[*] upon my life.

I, by myself, exceed the riches of the Griffins[*], who inhabit the golden mountains, For I’m unwilling to make mention of those other kings, beggarly fellows—I am the king Philip. O charming day!

for when I went from here, just now, I arrived there much the first, and, long before, I placed myself in a tree, and thence observed where the old fellow hid the gold. When he departed thence, I let myself down from the tree, and dug up the pot full of gold. Thence, from that spot,

I saw the old fellow betaking himself back again; he didn’t see me, for I turned a little on one side, out of the path. Heyday! here he comes himself. I’ll go and hide this away, at home.

I’m ruined! I’m done for! I’m murdered! Whither shall I run? Whither not run? Stop him—stop him. Whom? who? I don’t know. I see nothing! I’m going blindfold; and, in fact, whither I am going, or where I am, or who I am,

I can’t in my mind find out for certain. (To the AUDIENCE.) I beseech you, give me your aid (I beg and entreat of you), and point me out the person that has taken it away. What’s the matter? Why do you laugh? I’m acquainted with you all; I know that there are many thieves here, who conceal themselves with white clothes and chalk[*], and sit as though they were honest! (To one of the SPECTATORS.) What say you? You I’m resolved to believe; for I perceive, even by your looks, that you are honest.

Well then, none of these has got it? You’ve been the death of me! Tell me, then, who has got it? You don’t know? Oh,wretched, wretched me! I’m done for! wofully undone! In most sorry plight I go; so much groaning, and misfortune, and sorrow, has this day brought upon me, hunger and poverty, too. I’m the most utterly ruined of all men upon the earth! For what need of life have I, who have

lost so much gold that I so carefully watched? I pinched myself, and my inclinations, and my very heart[*]! Now others are rejoicing at this, my loss and my misfortune! I cannot endure it.