Stichus, or The Parasite Rebuffed (20-75)

Weep not, sister, nor do that to your feelings which your father is threatening to do. ’Tis to be hoped[*] that he will act more righteously. I know him well; he says these things in jest; and he would not earn for himself the mountains of the Persians,

which are said to be of gold[*], to do that of which you are in dread. Still, if he does do it, it befits you by no means to be angry; nor will it happen without some reason.

For this is the third year since our husbands have been away from home.

’Tis as you say; while, in the meantime, they may be living, and may be well[*], they do not make us acquainted where they are, what they are doing, whether they are doing well, neither do they return.

And do you, sister, regret this, that they do not observe their duty, whereas you do yours?

Troth, I do.

Hold your peace, if you please; take care, please, that I hear not that same thing from you in future.

And why, pray?

Because, i’ faith, in my opinion, ’tis proper for all prudent people

to observe and to do their duty. For that reason, sister, although you are the older, I advise you to remember your duty; and if they are unjust and act otherwise to us than is right, then, i’ faith, in exactly the same degree,

that there may be no further mischief, it befits us studiously to remember our duty by all means in our power.

’Tis good; I’m silenced.

But do take care and remember it.

I do not wish, sister, to be thought to be unmindful of my husband; nor has he thrown away the distinction that he conferred upon me.

For, by my troth, his kindness is pleasing and delightful to me; and, really, this choice of mine is not now irksome to me, nor is there any reason why I should wish to abandon this match. But, in fine, ’tis placed in our father’s power[*]; that must be done by us which our relatives enjoin.

I know it, and in thinking of it I am overwhelmed with grief; for already has he almost disclosed his sentiments.

Let us consider, then, what is necessary for us to do.

The man in condition of a servant who always waits to be told his duty, and doesn’t remember to do it of his own accord, that servant, I say, is not of a deserving character.

You remember well on each returning Calends to ask for your allotment of provisions[*]; why, then, do you less remember to do what is necessary to do about the house? Now, therefore, if, when I return, the furniture shall not be set for me, each piece in its proper place, I’ll be putting you in mind with a bull’s hide remembrancer[*]. Not human beings seem to be living with me, but pigs.

Take care, if you please, that my house is clean, when I return home. I shall soon be back home; I’m going to her house, to see my eldest daughter. If any one should enquire for me, call me thence, some of you; or—I shall be here soon myself.

What are we to do, sister, if our father shall resolve against us?

It befits us to submit to what he does whose power is the stronger.

By entreating, not by opposing, I think we must use our endeavours. If with mildness we ask for favour, I trust to obtain it of him. Oppose him we cannot, without disgrace and extreme criminality; I will neither do that myself, nor will I give you the advice to do it, but rather that we should entreat him. I know our family[*]; he will yield to entreaty.

In the first place, in what manner I should make a beginning with them, about that I am in doubt; whether I should accost them in language couched in ambiguous terms, after this fashion, as though I had never pretended[*] anything at all against them, or whether as though I had heard that they were deserving of some censure against them; whether I should rather try them gently or with threats. I know that there will be opposition; I know my daughters right well.