Heautontimorumenos; or, The Self-Tormenter (380-420)

But what’s he to do?

He will stay here.

O happy man!

Take yourself off.

Upon my word, my dear Antiphila, I commend you, and think you fortunate in having made it your study that your manners should be conformable to those good looks of yours: and so may the Gods bless me, I do not at all wonder if every man is in love with you. For your discourse has been a proof to me what kind of disposition you possess.

And when now I reflect in my mind upon your way of life, and that of all of you, in fact, who keep the public at a distance from yourselves, it is not surprising both that you are of that disposition, and that we are not; for it is your interest to be virtuous; those, with whom we are acquainted, will not allow us to be so. For our lovers, allured merely by our beauty, court us for that;

when that has faded, they transfer their affections elsewhere; and unless we have made provision in the mean time for the future, we live in destitution. Now with you, when you have once resolved to pass your life with one man whose manners are especially kindred to your own, those persons[*] become attached to you. By this kindly feeling, you are truly devoted to each other;

and no calamity can ever possibly interrupt your love.

I know nothing about other women: I’m sure that I have, indeed, always used every endeavor to derive my own happiness from his happiness.

Ah! ’tis for that reason, my Antiphila, that you alone have now caused me to return to my native country; for while I was absent from you, all other hardships which I encountered were light to me,

save the being deprived of you.

I believe it.

Syrus, I can scarce endure it![*] Wretch that I am, that I should not be allowed to possess one of such a disposition at my own discretion!

Nay, so far as I understand your father, he will for a long time yet be giving you a hard task.

Why, who is that young man that’s looking at us?

Ah! do support me, I entreat you!

Prithee, what is the matter with you?

I shall die, alas! I shall die!

Why are you thus surprised, Antiphila?

Is it Clinia that I see, or not?

Whom do you see?

Blessings on you, my life!

Oh my long-wished for Clinia, blessings on you!

How fare you, my love?

I’m overjoyed that you have returned safe.

And do I embrace you, Antiphila, so passionately longed for by my soul?

Go in-doors; for the old gentleman has been waiting for us some time.

It is now daybreak.[*] Why do I delay to knock at my neighbor’s door, that he may learn from me the first that his son has returned? Although I am aware that the youth would not prefer this. But when I see him tormenting himself so miserably about his absence, can I conceal a joy so unhoped for,

especially when there can be no danger to him from the discovery? I will not do so; but as far as I can I will assist the old man. As I see my son aiding his friend and year’s-mate, and acting as his confidant in his concerns, it is but right that we old men as well should assist each other.

Assuredly I was either born with a disposition peculiarly suited for misery, or else that saying which I hear commonly repeated, that time assuages human sorrow, is false. For really my sorrow about my son increases daily; and the longer