Adelphi; or, The Brothers (519-543)

My father gone into the country, say you?

with a careless air. Some time since.

Do tell me, I beseech you.

He is at the farm at this very moment,

I really wish, provided it be done with no prejudice to his health, I wish that he may so effectually tire himself, that, for the next three days together, he may be unable to arise from his bed.

So be it, and any thing still better than that,

Just so; for I do most confoundedly wish to pass this whole day in merry-making as I have begun it; and for no reason do I detest that farm so heartily as for its being so near town. If it were at a greater distance, night would overtake him there before he could return hither again. Now, when he doesn't find me there, he'll come running back here, I'm quite sure; he'll be asking me where I have been, that I have not seen him all this day: what am I to say?

Does nothing suggest itself to your mind?

Nothing whatever.

So much the worse

I have; what then?

You have been engaged with them.

When I have not been engaged? That can never do.

It may.

During the daytime; but if I pass the night here, what excuse can I make, Syrus?

Dear me, how much I do wish it was the custom for one to be engaged with friends at night as well! But you be easy; I know his humor perfectly well. When he raves the most violently, I can make him as gentle as a lamb.

In what way?

He loves to hear you praised: I make a god of you to him, and recount your virtues.

What, mine

Yours; immediately the tears fall from him as from a child, for very joy. Starting. Hah take care—

Why, what's the matter?

The wolf in the fable

What! my father?

His own self.

What shall we do, Syrus?

You only be off in-doors, I'll see to that.

If he makes any inquiries, you have seen me no-where; do you hear?

Can you not be quiet? They retreat to the door of MICIO'S house, and CTESIPHO stands in the doorway.

to himself. I certainly am an unfortunate man. In the first place, I can find my brother nowhere; and then, in the next place, while looking for him, I met a day-laborer[*] from the farm; he says that my son is not in the country, and what to do I know not—

apart. Syrus!

apart. What's the matter?

apart. Is he looking for me?

apart. Yes.

apart. Undone!

apart. Nay, do be of good heart.

to himself. Plague on it! what ill luck is this? I can not really account for it, unless I suppose myself only born for the purpose of enduring misery. I am the first to feel our misfortunes; the first to know of them all; then the first to carry the news; I am the only one, if any thing does go wrong, to take it to heart.

apart. I'm amused at him; he says that he is the first to know of every thing, while he is the only one ignorant of every thing.

to himself. I've now come back; and I'll go see whether perchance my brother has yet returned.

apart. Syrus, pray do take care that he doesn't suddenly rush in upon us here.

apart. Now will you hold your tongue? I'll take care.

apart. Never this day will I depend on your management for that, upon my faith; for I'll shut myself up with her in some cupboard

apart. Do so, still I'll get rid of him.

seeing SYRUS. But see! there's that rascal, Syrus.

aloud, pretending not to see DEMEA. Really, upon my faith, no person can stay here, if this is to be the case! ]For my part, I should like to know how many masters I have—what a cursed condition this is

What's he whining about? What does he mean? How say you, good sir, is my brother at home?

What the plague do you talk to me about, "good sir"? I'm quite distracted!

What's the matter with you?

Do you ask the question Ctesipho has been beating me, poor wretch, and that Music-girl, almost to death.

Ha! what is it you tell me?

Aye, see how he has cut my lip. Pretends to point to it.

For what reason?

He says that she was bought by my advice.

Did not you tell me, a short time since, that you had seen him on his way into the country?

I did; but he afterward came back, raving like a madman; he spared nobody—ought he not to have been ashamed to beat an old man? Him whom, only the other day, I used to carry about in my arms when thus high? Showing.

I commend him; O Ctesipho, you take after your father. Well, I do pronounce you a man.

Commend him? Assuredly he will keep his hands to himself in future, if he's wise.

'Twas done with spirit.

Very much so, to be beating a poor woman, and me, a slave, who didn't dare strike him in return; heyday! very spirited indeed!

He could not have done better; he thought the same as I did, that you were the principal in this affair. But is my brother within?

He is not.

I'm thinking where to look for him.

I know where he is—but I shall not tell you at present.

Ha! what's that you say?

I do say so.

Then I'll break your head for you this instant.

I can't tell the person's name he's gone to, but I know the place where he lives.

Tell me the place then.

Do you know the portico down this way, just by the shambles? Pointing in the direction.

How should I but know it?

Go straight along, right up that street; when you come there, there is a descent right opposite that goes down-ward, go straight down that; afterward, on this side extending one hand, there is a chapel: close by it is a narrow lane, where there's also a great wild fig-tree.

I know it.

Go through that—

But that lane is not a thoroughfare.

I' faith, that's true; dear, dear, would you take me to be in my senses?

I know it.

When you have passed that, keep straight along that street on the left hand;

What is he doing there?

He has given some couches to be made, with oaken legs, for use in the open air.

For you to carouse upon! Very fine ! But why do I delay going to him? (Exit.)

Go, by all means. I'll work you to day, you skeleton,