Truculentus, or The Churl (435-475)

but of a partner of kindred feelings and confiding, to do what she just now has done for me, in disclosing to me the palming of the child upon the Captain,—a thing that a sister entrusts not to her own born sister. She discloses herself now to me from her very soul,

that she will never prove faithless to me so long as she exists. Ought I not to love her? Ought I not to wish her well? I’ll rather not love myself, than that love should be wanting for her. Shall I not send her a present? This instant, then, I’ll order five minae to be brought to her from my house,

besides catering to the amount of a mina at least. Much rather shall kindness be shown to her who wishes kindly to me, than to myself, who do every mischief to myself.

Give the breast to that child. (To herself, coming forward.) How wretchedly

and anxiously are mothers[*] distressed in mind. I’ faith, ’twas craftily contrived; and when I revolve this matter in my mind, we are accounted to be much less artful than we naturally are in disposition. I’m now speaking of what, but lately, for the first time, I’ve been taught at home;

how great is my anxiety of mind, what pangs I do feel in my heart, lest through the death of the child the plot should fail. Because I’m styled its mother, for that reason am I the more anxious for its life, who have ventured thus secretly to attempt a stratagem so great. In my avarice, for the sake of gain, have I entered on this disgraceful scheme;

the pangs of others have I falsely shammed for myself. You must attempt nothing by craftiness, unless you would carry it out with cunning and with care. (To the AUDIENCE.) You yourselves now see in what garb[*] I go; I’m now pretending that I’m an invalid from having lain in.

A thing that a woman attempts to do in fraud, unless she is perfect in carrying it out, that same is as bad as disease to her, that same is as bad as old age to her, that to her, wretched creature, is wretchedness: if she begins to do what’s right, soon does weariness of it overtake her. How very few are tired who have commenced to do what’s wrong; how very few carry it out, if they have commenced to do anything aright.

To a female it is a much less burden to do bad than good. In that I’m an artful one, through the agency of my mother[*] and my own artful disposition am I artful, who have thus feigned to the Babylonian Captain that I am pregnant. I wish now the Captain may find this artful plot concocted well. He’ll be here no long time hence, I suppose; forewarned of that I’m now forearmed,

and I’m wearing this garb, as though I had just lain in in pregnancy. (Calls to the SERVANTS within.) Bring me hither some myrrh and fire for the altar, that I may pay adoration to my Lucina. (They bring it.) Place it here (pointing to an altar near the door), and go out of my sight. Ho there! Pithecium, help me to lay me down. Come hither; thus is it proper to help one who has just lain in. (A couch is brought in by ASTAPHIUM and two HANDMAIDS, and she lays herself down.) Take off my sandals; throw a coverlet here over me, Archylis.