Pseudolus, or The Cheat (376-435b)

What is that duty?

If you bring the money, I’ll break faith with him; that’s my duty. If it were more worth my while, I would talk further with you. But, without a coin of money, ’tis in vain that you request me to have pity upon you. Such is my determination; but do you, from this, consider what you have henceforth to do?

Are you going then?

At present I am full of business.

Before long you’ll be more so. That man is my own, unless all Gods and men forsake me. I’ll bone him just in the same fashion that a cook does a lamprey [*]. Now, Calidorus, I wish you to give me your attention.

What do you bid me do?

I wish to lay siege to this town, that this day it may be taken.

For that purpose, I have need of an artful, clever, knowing, and crafty fellow, who may despatch out of hand what he is ordered, not one to go to sleep upon his watch.

Tell me, then, what you are going to do?

In good time I’ll let you know. I don’t care for it to be repeated twice; stories are made too long that way.

You plead what’s very fair and very just.

Make haste; bring the fellow hither quickly.

Out of many, there are but few friends that are to be depended upon by a person.

I know that; therefore, get for yourself now a choice of both, and seek out of these many one that can be depended upon.

I’ll have him here this instant.

Can’t you be off then? You create delay for yourself by your talking.

Since he has gone hence, you are now standing alone, Pseudolus.

What are you to do now, after you have so largely promised costly delights to your master’s son by your speeches? You, for whom not even one drop of sure counsel is ready, nor yet of silver * * * * nor have you where first you must begin your undertaking,

nor yet fixed limits for finishing off your web. But just as the poet, when he has taken up his tablets, seeks what nowhere in the world exists, and still finds it, and makes that like truth which really is a fiction; now I’ll become a poet; twenty minae,

which no-where in the world are now existing, still will I find. And some time since had I said that I would find them for him, and I had attempted to throw a net over our old gentleman; however, by what means I know not, he perceived it beforehand. But my voice and my talking must be stopped;

for, see! I perceive my master, Simo, coming this way, together with his neighbour, Callipho. Out of this old sepulchre will I dig twenty minae this day, to give them to my master’s son. Now I’ll step aside here, that I may pick up their conversation.

If now a Dictator [*] were to be appointed at Athens of Attica out of the spendthrifts or out of the gallants, I do think that no one would surpass my son. For now the only talk of all throughout the city is to the effect that he is trying to set his mistress free,

and is seeking after money for that purpose. Some people bring me word of this; and, in fact, I had long ago perceived it, and had suspected it, but I dissembled on it.

Already is his son suspected by him; this affair is nipt in the bud, this business is at a stand-still.

The way is now entirely blocked up against me, by which I had intended to go a-foraging for the money.

He has perceived it beforehand. There’s no booty for the marauders.

Those men who carry about and who listen to accusations, should all be hanged, if so it could be at my decision, the carriers by their tongues, the listeners by their ears.

For these things that are told you, that your son in his amour is desirous to chouse you out of money, the chance is that these things so told you are all lies. But sappose they are true, as habits are, now-a-days especially, what has he done so surprising? What new thing, if a young man

does love, and if he does liberate his mistress?

A delightful old gentleman.