Bacchides, or The Twin Sisters (350-437b)

Not so very badly has this web been commenced by me, that I may find means for the son of my master in his amour. I’ve managed it so, that he may take as much of the gold as he chooses, and give up to his father as much as he may like to give up. The old gentleman will be going hence to Ephesus to fetch his gold;

here our life will be spent in a delicious manner, since the old man will leave me and Mnesilochus here, and not be taking us along with him. O! what a kick-up I shall be making here. But what’s to be done, when the old gentleman shall have discovered this? When he shall have found out that he has made his journey thither to no purpose,

and that we have misspent his gold, what will become of me after that? I’ faith, I think upon his arrival he’ll be changing my name, and at once be making me Crucisalus[*] instead of Chrysalus. Troth, I’ll run away, if there shall be a greater necessity for it. If I’m caught, I’ll plague him for a punishment[*];

if his rods are in the fields, still my back’s at home. Now I’ll be off, and tell my master’s son this contrivance about the gold, and about his mistress Bacchis who has been found.

Open and throw back straightway this gate of hell[*], I do entreat. For, really, I do deem it nothing else; inasmuch as no one comes here

but he whon all hopes have deserted, that he may yet be a decent person. Bacchis—no, not Bacchis is their name, but they are most determined Bacchanals. Avaunt from me, you sisters, who suck the blood of men. Richly and elegantly furnished is this house—for destruction. Soon as I beheld all this, at once I straight-way way betook myself to my heels.

And ought I to carry these things concealed in secrecy? Ought I, Pistoclerus, to conceal from your father your excesses, or your misdeeds, or your places of resort? by which you are aiming to drive your father and myself, and your own self and all your friends, to disgrace, and shame, and ruin altogether, and to destroy us all. Within yourself you entertain no awe of either me or your own self on account of the deeds which you are doing

by which you have made your own father and myself as well, your friends and your connexions, to be abettors[*] in the disgrace of your excesses. Now, before you add this mischief to the rest, I am resolved at once to tell your parent. This instant from myself will I remove this blame, and shall disclose the matter to the old gentleman, that he may forthwith draw forth his son out from this loathsome pollution.

In many ways have I thought it over with myself, and thus I think it is; a man your friend, who is a friend such as the name imports—except the Gods—nothing does excel him. By fact have I experienced it so to be. For when I departed hence to Ephesus (’tis now almost two years ago it happened), from Ephesus I sent letters hither to my friend Pistoclerus,

requesting that he would find out my mistress Bacchis for me. I hear that he has found her, as my servant Chrysalus has brought me word. How aptly, too, has he framed a device against my father about the gold, that I may have abundance in my amour. I see ’tis right[*] that I should make a due return. ’Tis better for you to be styled extravagant than ungrateful;

but, i’ faith, in my way of thinking at least, there’s nothing more extravagant than the ungrateful man. The former the good will praise, the latter even the bad will censure. ’Twere better for an ill-doer to escape than for a benefactor to be deserted. For this reason, then, it behoves me to take the greater care; I needs must be on the watch. Now, Mnesilochus, the sample is on view, now the contest is being decided,

whether you are or are not such as you ought to be; good or bad, of whichever kind; just or unjust, penurious or liberal, fretful or complying. Take you care, if you please, lest you let your servant exce. you in doing well. Whatever you shall prove, I warn you, you shall not be concealed. But see, I perceive my friend’s father and his tutor coming this way. I’ll listen what matter ’tis they are upon.

I’ll now make trial, whether your heart is sharpened by wisdom in your breast. Follow me.

Whither shall I follow? Whither are you now leading me?

To her who has undone, utterly destroyed your single, only son.

How now, Lydus; those are the wiser who moderate their passion. ’Tis less to be[*] wondered at if this age does some of these things

than if it does not do so; I, as well, did the same in my youth.

Ah me! ah me! this over-indulgence has proved his ruin. For had he been without you, I should have had him trained up to moral rectitude; now, by reason of you and your trusting disposition, Pistoclerus has become abandoned.

Immortal Gods! he names my friend.

What means this, that Lydus is thus exciting his master, Pistoclerus?

’Tis but a little time, Lydus, that a man has a desire to indulge his inclinations; the time will soon come, when he will hate himself even. Humour him; so that care is taken that he offends not beyond the line of honor, e’en suffer him.

I’ll suffer him not, nor, for my part, while I’m alive, will I allow him to be corrupted.

But you, who are pleading his cause for a son so profligate, was this same your own training, when you were a young man? I declare that for your first twenty years you had not even this much liberty, to move your foot out of the house even a finger’s length away from your tutor.

When it did happen so, this evil, too, was added to the evil; both pupil and preceptor were esteemed disgraced.

Before the rising of the sun had you not come to the school for exercise[*], no slight punishment would you have had at the hands of the master of the school.

There did they exercise themselves rather with running, wrestling, the quoit, the javelin, boxing, the ball, and leaping, rather than with harlots or with kissing;

there did they prolong their lives[*], and not in secret-lurking holes. Then, when from the hippodrome[*] and school of exercise you had returned home, clad in your belted frock[*], upon a stool by your masters[*] would you sit; and there, when you were reading your book, if you made a mistake in a single syllable, your skin would be made as spotted as your nurse’s gown[*].

I’m sorely vexed, to my sorrow, that on my account these things should be said about my friend. In his innocence he incurs this suspicion for my sake.

The manners, Lydus, now are altered.

That, for my part, I know full well. For formerly, a man used to receive public honors by the votes of the people, before he ceased to be obedient to one appointed his tutor.