Mostellaria, or The Haunted House (252-284_285)

For that expression, Scapha, that you mayn’t have said anything so pretty in vain, I’ll to-day give something for your savings—to you, my Philematium.

Will you see that each hair is nicely arranged in its own place?

When you yourself are so nice, do believe that your hair must be nice.

Out upon it! what worse thing can possibly be spoken of than this woman? Now the jade’s a flatterer, just now she was all contradictory.

Hand me the ceruse[*].

Why, what need of ceruse have you?

To paint my cheeks with it.

On the same principle, you would want to be making ivory white with ink.

Cleverly said that, about the ink and the ivory! Bravo! I applaud you, Scapha.

Well then, do you give me the rouge.

I shan’t give it. You really are a clever one. Do you wish to patch up a most clever piece with new daubing? It’s not right that any paint should touch that person, neither ceruse, nor quince-ointment, nor any other wash.

Take the mirror, then. (Hands her the glass.)

Ah wretched me!—she gave the glass a kiss. I could much wish for a stone, with which to break the head of that glass.

Take the towel and wipe your hands.

Why so, prithee?

As you’ve been holding the mirror, I’m afraid that your hands may smell of silver; lest Philolaches should suspect you’ve been receiving silver somewhere.

I don’t think that I ever did see any one procuress more cunning. How cleverly and artfully did it occur to the jade’s imagination about the mirror!

Do you think I ought to be perfumed with unguents as well?

By no means do so.

For what reason?

Because, i’ faith, a woman smells best[*] when she smells of nothing at all. For those old women who are in the habit of anointing themselves with unguents, vampt up creatures,

old hags, and toothless, who hide the blemishes of the person with paint, when the sweat has blended itself with the unguents, forthwith they stink just like when a cook has poured together a variety of broths; what they smell of, you don’t know, except this only, that you understand that badly they do smell.

How very cleverly she does understand everything! There’s nothing more knowing than this knowing woman!

(To the AUDIENCE.) This is the truth, and a very great portion, in fact, of you know it, who have old women for wives at home who purchased you with their portions.

Come now, examine my golden trinkets and my mantle; does this quite become me, Scapha?

It befits not me to concern myself about that.

Whom then, prithee?

I’ll tell you;

Philolaches; so that he may not buy anything except that which he fancies will please you. For a lover buys the favours of a mistress for himself with gold and purple garments. What need is there for that which he doesn’t want as his own, to be shown him still? Age is to be enveloped in purple; gold ornaments are unsuitable for a woman. A beautiful woman will be more beautiful naked than drest in purple.