Stichus, or The Parasite Rebuffed (60-103)

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.

If they should prefer to remain here rather than to marry afresh, why, let them do so. What need is there for me, the term of my life run out, to be waging war with my children, when I think that they don’t at all deserve that I should do so? By no means; I’ll have no disturbances. But I think that this is the best thing to be done by me; I’ll do thus; I’ll pretend as though they had themselves been guilty of some fault;

I’ll terribly terrify their minds this day by some ambiguous expressions; ana then, after that, as I shall feel disposed, I’ll disclose myself. I know that many words will be spoken; I’ll go in. (Goes to the door of PHILUMENA’S house.) But the door’s open.

Why, surely the sound of my father’s voice reached my ears.

I’ troth, ’tis he; let’s hasten to meet him with a kiss.

My father, my respects.

And to you the same. Away this instant, and be off from me,

One kiss.

I’ve had enough of your kissing.

Prithee, father, why so?

Because, as it is, the seasoning of your affection has reached my soul[*].

Sit down here, father.

I’ll not sit there; do you sit down; I’ll sit on the bench[*].

Wait till I fetch a cushion.

You take kind care of me; I’m nicely seated now as I am[*].

Do let me, father.

What need is there?

There is need.

I’ll submit to you. (Arranging the cushion.) Yes, this does very well.

Why, daughters can never take too much care of their parent. Whom is it proper that we should esteem more dear than yourself? And then, in the next place, father, our husbands, for whom you have chosen that we should be the mothers of families.

You do as it is proper for good wives to do, in esteeming your husbands,

though absent, just as though they were present.

’Tis propriety, father, for us to highly honor those who have chosen us as companions for themselves.

Is there any other person here to listen with his ears[*] to our conversation?

There’s no one except us and yourself.