Captivi: The Captives (615-646)

The dress only[*] is wanting; in seeing this man, you behold Ajax himself.

I don’t care; still I’ll approach him.

Now am I utterly undone; now between the sacrifice and the stone[*] do I stand, nor know I what to do.

I lend you my attention, Aristophontes, if there is anything that you would wish with me.

From me you shall hear that truth, which now you think to be false, Hegio.

But I wish, in the first place, to clear myself from this with you—that madness does not possess me, and that I have no malady, except that I am in captivity; and, so may the King of Gods and of men make me to regain my native land, that fellow there is no more Philocrates than either I or you.

Come, then, tell me who he is?

He whom I’ve told you all along from the beginning.

If you shall find him any other than that person, I show no cause why I shouldn’t suffer the loss with you both of my parents and of my liberty for ever.

What say you to this?

That I am your slave, and you my master.

I didn’t ask that—were you a free man?

I was.

But he really wasn’t; he is deceiving you.

How do you know? Were you, perchance, the midwife of my mother,

since you dare to affirm this so boldly?

When a boy, I saw yourself, a boy.

But, grown up, I now see you grown up; so, there’s for you, in return. If you did right, you wouldn’t be troubling yourself about my concerns; do I trouble myself about yours?

Was his father called Thesaurochrysonicocrœsides?

He was not; and I never heard that name before this day.

Theodoromedes was the father of Philocrates.

I’m downright undone. Why don’t you be quiet, heart of mine? Go and be stretched, and hang yourself; you are throbbing so, that unfortunate I can hardly stand up for my fear.

Is a full assurance given me that this was a slave in Elis, and that he is not Philocrates?

So fully, that you will never find this to be otherwise; but where is he[*] now?

Where I the least, and he the most could wish himself. In consequence, then, I’m cut asunder[*], disjointed, to my sorrow, by the devices of this scoundrel, who has bamboozled me by his tricks just as he has thought fit. But do, please, have a care that you are right.

Why, I assure you of this, as an ascertained and established fact.

For certain?

Why, nothing, I say, will you find more certain than this certainty.

Philocrates, from when a boy, has ever since that time been my friend.

But of what appearance is your friend Philocrates?