Miles Gloriosus, or The Braggart Captain (626-683)

Ought I to employ these years of yours in seconding my love?

How say you? Do I seem to you so very much a subject for Acheron[*]? So much a bier’s-man[*]? Do I seem to you to have had so very long a life? Why, really, I am not more than four-and-fifty years old;

I see clearly with my eyes, I’m ready with my hands, I’m active with my feet.

If he is seen by you to have white hair, he is by no means an old man in mind; in him the natural strength of his mind is unimpaired.

By my troth, for my part, I have found it to be so as you say, Palaestrio; for, in fact, his kindness is quite that of a young man.

Yes, my guest, the more you make trial of it, the more you will know my courtesy towards you in your love.

What need to know what’s known already?

I’ll show you more amiability on my part than I’ll make mention of ⋯ that you may have instances for proving it at home, and not have to seek it out of doors. For unless one has loved himself, with difficulty he sees into the feelings of one in love.

But I have some little love and moisture in my body still, and not yet am I dried up for the pursuits of merriment and pleasure. Either the merry banterer likewise, or the agreable boon-companion will I be; no interrupter of another am I at a feast. I bear in mind how properly to keep myself from proving disagreable to my fellow-guests;

and how to take a due share with my conversation, and to be silent as well in my turn, when the discourse belongs to another. Far from being a spitter or hawker am I, far from being a dirty-nosed old fellow, too. And never do I take liberties with any person’s mistress when out in company; I don’t snatch up the dainty bits before another, nor take the cup before my turn; nor, through wine, do dissensions ever arise on my account at the convivial board. If there is any one there that is disagreable, I go off home; I cut the parley short. Stretched at my ease, I devote myself to pleasure, love, and mirth. In fine, at Ephesus was I born, not among the Apulians, not at Animula[*].

O what a most delightful old man, if he possesses the qualities he mentions!

Why, troth, surely now, he was brought up in the very rearing of Venus.

Why, in fact, you will not find another person who is of his years, more accomplished in every respect, or who is more a friend to his friend.

By my troth, your whole manners really do show marks of first-rate breeding. Find me three men of such manners against a like weight in double-distilled gold[*].

I’ll make you confess that I really am a youngster in my manners; so abounding in kindnesses will I prove myself to you in every respect. Should you have need of an advocate, severe or fierce? I am he. Have you need of one that is gentle? You shall say that I am more gentle than the sea is when hush’d,

and something more balmy will I prove than is the Zephyr breeze[*]. In this same person will I display to you either the most jovial boon-companion, or the first-rate trencher-man[*], and the best of caterers. Then, as for dancing, there is no ballet-master that is so supple as I.

What could you wish added to these accomplishments, if the option were given you?

That thanks could be returned by me to him in degree equal to his deserts, and to yourself, to both of whom I feel that I am now the cause of extreme anxiety. But it is grievous to me to be the cause of so great expense to you.

You are a simpleton. For, if you lay anything out on a bad wife and upon an enemy, that is an expense; that which is laid out on a deserving guest and a friend is gain;

as that, which is expended upon sacred rites, is a profit to the wise man. By the blessing of the Gods, I have enough, with which to receive you with hospitality in my house. Eat, drink, indulge your tastes with me, and surfeit yourself with enjoyments; my house is at your service, myself likewise do I wish to be at your service. For, through the blessing of the Gods, I may say that, by reason of my wealth,

I could have married a dowered wife of the best family; but I don’t choose to introduce an everlasting female barker at me into my house.

Why don’t you choose? For ’tis a delightful thing to be the father of children [liberos].

Troth, ’tis very much sweeter by far to be free[*] [liberum] yourself.