Adelphi; or, The Brothers (519-639)

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,

I can see no reason here, Hegio, that I should be so greatly commended. I do my duty; the wrong that has originated with us I redress. Unless, perhaps, you thought me one of that class of men who think that an injury is purposely done them if you expostulate about any thing they have done; and yet are themselves the first to accuse. Because I have not acted thus, do you return me thanks?

Oh, far from it; I never led myself to believe you to be otherwise than you are; but I beg, Micio, that you will go with me to the mother of the young woman, and repeat to her the same; what you have told me, do you yourself tell the woman, that this suspicion of Aeschinus's fidelity was incurred on his brother's account, and that this Music-girl was for him.

If you think I ought, or if there is a necessity for doing so, let us go.

You act with kindness; for you'll then both have relieved her mind who is now languishing in sorrow and affliction, and have discharged your duty. But if you think otherwise, I will tell her myself what you have been saying to me.

Nay, I'll go as well.

You act with kindness; all who are in distressed circumstances are suspicious,

speaking at the door to SOSTRATA. Do as I told you, Sostrata; I'll go find Aeschinus, that lie may know how these matters have been settled. Looking round. But who was it knocking at the door?

apart. Heavens, it is my father!—I am undone !

Aeschinus !

aside. What can be his business here?

Was it you knocking at this door? Aside. He is silent. Why shouldn't I rally him a little? It would be as well, as he was never willing to trust me with this secret. To AESCHINUS. Don't you answer me?

confusedly. It wasn't I knocked at that door, that I know of.

Just so; for I wondered what business you could have here. Apart. He blushes; all's well.

Pray tell me, father, what business have you there?

Why, none of my own; but a certain friend of mine just now brought me hither from the Forum to give him some assistance.

Why?

I'll tell you. There are some women living here; in impoverished circumstances, as I suppose you don't know them; and, in fact, I'm quite sure, for it is not long since they removed to this place.

Well, what next?

There is a girl living with her mother.

Go on.

This girl has lost her father; this friend of mine is her next of kin; the law obliges him to marry her.

aside. Undone!

What's the matter?

Nothing. Very well: proceed.

He has come to take her with him; for he lives at Miletus.

What ! To take the girl away with him?

Such is the act.

All the way to Miletus, pray?

Yes.

aside. I'm overwhelmed with grief To MICIO. But what of them? What do they say?

What do you suppose they should? Why, nothing at all. The mother has trumped up a tale, that there is a child by some other man, I know not who, and she does not state the name; she says that he was the first, and that she ought not to be given to the other.

Well now, does not this seem just to you after all?

No.

Why not, pray? Is the other to be carrying her away from here?

Why should he not take her?

You have acted harshly and unfeelingly, and even, if, father, I may speak my sentiments more plainly, unhandsomely.

Why so?

Do you ask me? Pray, what do you think must be the state of mind of the man who was first connected with her, who, to his misfortune, may perhaps still love her to distraction, when he sees her torn away from before his face, and borne off from his sight forever? An unworthy action, father!

On what grounds is it so? Who betrothed her?

Was it to be expected that a young woman of her age should sit at home, waiting till a kinsman of hers should come from a distance? This, my father, you ought to have represented, and have insisted on it.

Ridiculous! Was I to have pleaded against him whom I was to, support But what's all this, Aeschinus, to us? What have we to do with them? Let us begone:— What's the matter? Why these tears?

weeping. Father, I beseech you, listen to me.

Aeschinus, I have heard and know it all; for I love you, and therefore every thing you do is the more a care to me.

So do I wish you to find me deserving of your love, as long as you live, my dear father, as I am sincerely sorry for the offense I have committed, and am ashamed to see you.

Upon my word 1 believe it, for I know your ingenuous disposition: but I am afraid that you are too inconsiderate. In what city, pray, do you suppose you live? You have debauched a virgin, whom it was not lawful for you to touch. In the first place then that was a great offense; great, but still natural. Others, and even men of worth, have frequently done the same. But after it happened, pray, did you show any circumspection? Or did you use any foresight as to what was to be done, or how it was to be done? If you were ashamed to tell me of it, by what means was I to come to know it? While you were at a loss upon these points, ten months have been lost. So far indeed as lay in your power, you have periled both yourself and this poor girl, and the child. What did you imagine—that the Gods would set these matters to rights for you while you were asleep, and that she would be brought home to your chamber without any exertions of your own? I would not have you to be equally negligent in other affairs. Be of good heart, you shall have her for your wife.

Hah!

Be of good heart, I tell you.

Father, are you now jesting with me, pray?

I, jesting with you! For what reason?

I don't know; but so anxiously do I wish this to be true, that I am the more afraid it may not be.

Go home, and pray to the Gods that you may have your wife; be off.

What! have my wife now?

Now.

Now?

Now, as soon as possible.

May all the Gods detest me, father, if I do not love you better than even my very eyes!

What! better than her?

Quite as well.

Very kind of you !

Well, where is this Milesian?

Departed, vanished, gone on board ship; but why do you delay?

Father, do you rather go and pray to the Gods; for I know, for certain, that they will rather be propitious to you,

I'll go in-doors, that what is requisite may be prepared. You do as I said, if you are wise. Goes into his house. AESCHINUS alone.

What can be the meaning of this? Is this being a father, or this being a son? If he had been a brother or familiar companion, how could he have been more complaisant ! Is he not worthy to be beloved? Is he not to be imprinted in my very bosom? Well then, the more does he impose an obligation on me by his kindness, to take due precaution not inconsiderately to do any thing that he may not wish. But why do I delay going in-doors this instant, that I may not myself delay my own nuptials? Goes into the house of MICIO.