Miles Gloriosus, or The Braggart Captain (246b-290b)

But do you say that they are extremely alike; and this must be imparted in time to Philocomasium, in order that she may know; that she mayn’t be tripping if the Captain should question her.

A very clever contrivance. But if the Captain should wish to see them both in company together,

what shall we do then?

That’s easy enough. Three hundred excuses may be picked up—she is not at home; she has gone out walking; she is asleep; she is dressing; she is bathing; she is at breakfast[*]; she is taking dessert[*]; she is engaged; she is enjoying her rest[*]; in fact, she can’t come. There are as many of these put-offs as you like, if I can only persuade him at the very outset to believe that to be true which shall be contrived.

I like what you say.

Go in-doors then; and if the damsel’s there, bid her return home directly, and instruct and tutor her thoroughly in this plan, that she may understand our scheme, as we have begun it, about the twin-sister.

I’ll have her right cleverly tutor’d for you. Is there anything else?

Only, be off in-doors.

I’m off.

And I’ll go home, too;

and I’ll conceal the fact that I am giving her my aid in seeking out the man, which fellow-servant of mine it was, that to-day was following the monkey. For it cannot be but in his conversation he must have made some one of the household acquainted about the lady of his master, how that he himself has seen her next door here toying with some stranger spark.

I know the habit myself; I can’t hold my tongue on that which I know alone. If I find out the person who saw it, I’ll plant against him all my mantelets[*] and covered works. The material is prepared; ’tis a sure matter that I must take this person by force, and by thus besieging him. If so I don’t find the man, just like a hound I’ll go smelling about, even until I shall have traced out the fox by his track.

But our door makes a noise: I’ll lower my voice; for here is the keeper of Philocomasium, my fellow-servant, coming out of doors.

Unless, in fact, I have been walking this day in my sleep upon the tiles, i’ faith, I know for sure that I have seen here, at our neighbour’s next door, Philocomasium, the lady of my master, on the high road[*] to mischief to herself.

’Twas he that saw her billing, so far as I have heard him say.

Who’s that?

Your fellow-servant. How are you, Sceledrus?

I am glad that I have met you, Palaestrio.

What now? Or what’s the matter? Let me know.

I’m afraid.

What are you afraid of?

By my troth, lest, this day, as many domestics as there are of us here, we shall jump into a most woful punishmient by way of torture.

Jump you alone, please;

for I don’t at all like this jumping in[*] and jumping out.

Perhaps you don’t know what new mischance has happened at home?

What mischance is this?

A disgraceful one.

Do you then keep it to yourself alone: don’t tell it me; I don’t want to know it.

But I won’t let you not know it. To-day I was following our monkey upon the tiles, next door there.

By my troth, Sceledrus, a worthless fellow, you were following a worthless beast.

The Gods confound you!

That befits yourself, since you began the conversation.

By chance, as it happened, I looked down there through the skylight, into the next house; and there I saw Philocomasium toying with some strange young man, I know not whom.

What scandalous thing is this I hear of you, Sceledrus?

I’ faith, I did see her, beyond a doubt.

What, yourself?