Poenulus, or The Young Carthaginian (215-279b)

nor is the largest amount of equipment sufficient for them. And as I mention these things, from experience at home do I now say thus; for we two, even from daybreak up to the present hour of the day, have never ceased

either washing, or scrubbing, or rubbing, or dressing, smoothing, polishing, painting, trimming, with all our might, and at the same time the two maid-servants, that have been provided for each of us, have been giving us their assistance in washing and cleaning; and in carrying water two men have become quite weary.

Fie upon it! how great a plague there is in one female. But if there are two, I know full well that they are able to give to any one, the mightiest nation whatsoever, more trouble than enough, in being night and day, always, at all hours, dressing, washing, rubbing, polishing.

In fine, there’s no moderation in women, nor do we understand how ever to set a limit to washing and scrubbing. But she who is washed clean, unless she is thoroughly dressed, in my notion at least, is just as though she were dirty.

I really wonder, sister, that you talk in this fashion; you who are so knowing, and discreet, and clever;

for when with all care we have ourselves in trim, hardly and with difficulty do we find poor pitiful admirers.

Such is the fact; but still reflect upon this one thing; a limit is best to be observed in all things, sister; all things in excess give too much trouble to mortals of themselves.

Sister, prithee, do reflect that we are accounted just in the same way as pickled salt-fish[*] is thought of—without any relish and without sweetness; unless full oft and long it is soaked in water, it smells badly, and is salt, so that you cannot touch it.

Just so are we. Women of this class are utterly tasteless, and devoid of grace, without dress and expense.

She surely is a cook, Agorastocles, according to my notion; she knows how to soak pickled fish.

Why are you thus troublesome?

Sister, do, there’s a dear, forbear. It’s quite sufficient for others to say that to us, not to be ourselves as well proclaiming our foibles.

I’ll have done, then.

I thank you: but now answer me this; are all things here which ought to be provided for propitiating the Gods?

I’ve taken care of everything.

How charming and joyous a day, and full of delight, worthy of Venus, by my troth, whose Aphrodisia are celebrated to-day!

Any thanks for me, for calling you out of doors? Oughtn’t I now to be presented with a cask of old wine? Say it shall be given. Don’t you answer me?

His tongue has fallen out, I imagine. What, plague on it, have you been struck with amazement standing here?

Do let me love on; don’t disturb me, and do hold your peace.

I’ll hold my peace.

If you had held your peace, why then that I’ll hold my peace would not have been in existence.

Let’s go, my sister.

How now—why, prithee, are you now hastening that way?

Do you ask me? Because our master is waiting for us at the Temple of Venus.

Let him wait, i’ faith. Do you stay;

there’s a crowd just now at the altar. Do you wish yourself to be pushed about among those common prostitutes, the doxies of bakers, the cast-offs of the spelt-bread sellers; wretched creatures, daubed over with grease[*], followers of poor slaves, who stink for you of their stable and stall[*], their seats and very sheds; whom, in fact, not a single freeman has ever touched or taken home with him,

the twopenny strumpets[*] of dirty trumpery slaves?

Away with you to utter perdition! Do you dare, then, to despise the slaves, you hussey? As if she was a beauty, as if kings were in the habit of making her their choice. A monstrosity of a woman! Diminutive as she is, she does spit out such mighty words—seven nights with whom I wouldn’t purchase at a cupful of vapour.

Immortal and omnipotent Divinities, what is there among you more beauteous? What have you that I should deem you more immortal than I am myself. in beholding with my eyes these delights so great? But Venus is not Venus; for my own part, her will I worship as Venus; that she may love me and prove propitious. Milphio!—hallo! Milphio, where are you?

See, here I am with you.