Andria; or, The Fair Andrian (617d-659b)

Assuredly, Pamphilus.

As you have just done, I suppose.

Why no, better, I trust.

What, am I to believe you, you scoundrel? [*]

You, indeed, make good a matter that’s all embarrassment and ruin! Just see, in whom I’ve been placing reliance—you who this day from a most happy state have been and plunged me into a marriage. Didn’t I say that this would be the case?

You did say so.

What do you deserve? [*]

The cross. [*] But allow me a little time to recover myself; I’ll soon hit upon something.

Ah me! not to have the leisure to inflict punishment upon you as I desire! for the present conjuncture warns me to take precautions for myself, not to be taking vengeance on you.

Is this to be believed or spoken of; that malice so great could be inborn in any one as to exult at misfortunes, and to derive advantage from the distresses of another! Oh, is this true? Assuredly, that is the most dangerous class of men,

in whom there is only a slight degree of hesitation at refusing; afterward, when the time arrives for fulfilling their promises, then, obliged, of necessity they discover themselves. They are afraid, and yet the circumstances [*] compel them to refuse. Then, in that case, their very insolent remark is,

Who are you? What are you to me? What should I give up to you what’s my own? Look you, I am the most concerned in my own interests.[*] But if you inquire where is honor, they are not ashamed. [*] Here, where there is occasion, they are not afraid; there, where there is no occasion, they are afraid. But what am I to do? Ought I not to go to him, and reason with him upon this outrage,

and heap many an invective upon him? Yet some one may say, you will avail nothing. Nothing? At least I shall have vexed him, and have given vent to my own feelings.

Charinus, unintentionally I have ruined both myself and you, unless the Gods in some way befriend us.

Unintentionally, is it! An excuse has been discovered at last. You have broken your word.

How so, pray?

Do you expect to deceive me a second time by these speeches?

What does this mean?

Since I told you that I loved her, she has become quite pleasing to you. Ah wretched me! to have judged of your disposition from my own.

You are mistaken.

Did this pleasure appear to you not to be quite complete, unless you tantalized me in my passion, and lured me on by groundless hopes?—You may take her.

I, take her? Alas! you know not in what perplexities, to my sorrow, I am involved,

and what vast anxieties this executioner of mine (pointing to DAVUS.) has contrived for me by his devices.

What is it so wonderful, if he takes example from yourself?

You would not say that if you understood either myself or my affection.

I’m quite aware (ironically.); you have just now had a dispute with your father, and he is now angry with you in consequence, and has not been able to-day to prevail upon you to marry her.

No, not at all,—as you are not acquainted with my sorrows, these nuptials were not in preparation for me; and no one was thinking at present of giving me a wife.

I am aware; you have been influenced by your own inclination.

Hold; you do not yet know all.

For my part, I certainly do know that you are about to marry her.