 Act I of Hikaira, the mother-in-law, by Terence, translated by Henry Thomas Reilly. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dramatis personae. Larkas, an aged Athenian, father of Pamphilus, read by Todd. Fidipus, an aged Athenian, father of Philomena, read by Alan Mapstone. Pamphilus, son of Lachas, read by Thomas Peter. Socia, servant of Pamphilus, read by Nima. Parmeno, servant of Sostrata, read by Eva Davis. Sostrata, wife of Lachis, read by Beth Thomas. Marina, wife of Fidipus, read by T. J. Burns. Becces, a courtesan, read by Sonia. Filotis, a courtesan, read by Devorah Allen. Sira, a procurus, read by Abaii. And stage directions, read by Lian Yao. Seen, Athens, before the house of Lachis, Fidipus, and Bacchus. The first prologue. Hakaera is the name of this play. When it was represented for the first time, an unusual disaster and calamity interrupted it, so that it could not be witnessed throughout or estimated. So much had the populace, carried away with admiration, devoted their attention to some rope dancing. It is now offered as though entirely a new play, and he who wrote it did not wish to bring it forward then a second time, on purpose that he might be able again to sell it. Other plays of his you have seen represented. I beg you now to give your attention to this. The second prologue. I come to you as an envoy from the poet, in the character of prologue speaker. Allow me to be a successful pleader, that in my old age I may enjoy the same privilege that I enjoyed when a younger man, when I caused new plays, that had been once rejected, to come into favour, so that his writings might not die with the poet. Among them, as to those of Caicilius, which I first studied when new, in some of which I was rejected, in some I kept my ground with difficulty. As I knew that the fortune of the stage was varying, where the hopes were uncertain, I submitted to certain toil. Those I zealously attempted to perform, that from the same writer I might learn new ones, and not discourage him from his pursuits. I caused them to be represented. When seen, they pleased. Thus did I restore the poet to his place, who was now almost weaned, through the malevolence of his adversaries, from his pursuits and labours, and from the dramatic art. But if I had, at that period, slighted the writer, and had wished to use my endeavours in discouraging him, so that he might live a life of idleness rather than of study, I might have easily discouraged him from writing others. Now, for my sake, here with unbiased minds, what it is I ask? I again bring before you the hikaira, which I have never been allowed to act before you in silence. Such misfortunes have so overwhelmed it. These misfortunes your intelligence will allay, if it is a seconder of our exertions. The first time, when I began to act this play, the warnings of boxes, the expectation of a rope dancer, added to which the throng of followers, the noise, the clamour of the women, caused me to retire from your presence before the time. In this new play, I attempted to follow the old custom of mine, of making a fresh trial. I brought it on again. In the first act, I pleased, when in the meantime a rumour spread that gladiators were about to be exhibited. The populace flocked together, make a tumult, clamour allowed, and fight for their places. Meantime, I was unable to maintain my place. Now, there is no confusion, there is attention and silence. An opportunity of acting my play has been granted to me. To yourselves is given the power of gracing the scenic festival. Do not permit, through your agency, the dramatic art to sink into the hands of a few. Let your authority prove a seconder and assistant to my own. If I have never covetously set a price upon my skill, and have come to this conclusion, that it is the greatest gain in the highest possible degree to contribute to your entertainment, allow me to attain this of you. That him who has entrusted his labours to my protection, and himself to your integrity, that him, I say, the malicious may not maliciously deride, beset by them on every side. For my sake, admit of this plea, and attend in silence, that he may be encouraged to write other plays, and that it may be for my advantage to study new ones hereafter. Purchased at my own expense. Act one, scene one. Enter Philotis and Sira. If faith, Sira, you can find but very few lovers who prove constant to their mistresses. For instance, how often did this pamphilus swear to Bacchus, how solemnly so that anyone might have readily believed him, that he would never take home a wife so long as she lived? Well, now he is married. Therefore, for that very reason, I earnestly both advise and entreat you to take pity upon no one. But plunder, fleece, and drain every man you lay hold of. What, hold no one exempt? No one. For not a single one of them rest assured comes to you without making up his mind, by means of his flatteries, to gratify his passion with you at the least possible expense. Will you not pray plot against them in return? And yet upon my faith it is unfair to be the same to all. What? Unfair to take revenge on your enemies? Or for them to be caught in the very way they try to catch you? Ah, lass wretched me! Why do not your age and beauty belong to me? Why else these sentiments of mine to you? Scene two. Enter Parmino from the house of Lakeys. Parmino at the door, speaking to skirtus within. If the old man should be asking for me, do you say that I have just gone to the harbour to inquire about the arrival of Pamphilus? Do you hear what I say, Sirtis? If he asks for me, then you are to say so. If he does not, why I say nothing at all, so that at another time I may be able to employ that excuse as a new one. Comes forward, and looking around. But is it my dear Philotus that I see? How has she come here? Ac costing her. Philotus, heartily good morrow. Oh, good morrow, Parmino. By my troth, good morrow, Parmino. If faith, Sira, the same to you. Philotus, tell me, where have you been enjoying yourself so long? For my part, indeed, I have been far from enjoying myself, and leaving this place for Corinth with the most brutal captain. For two whole years there had I to put up with him to my sorrow. A troth, I fancy that I regret for Athens' full off possessed you, and that you felt the poorly of your foresight. Oh, it cannot be expressed how impatient I was to return hither. Get rid of the captain, and see yourselves here. But after our old fashion I might at ease enjoy the merry makings among you. For there it was not allowed me to speak, except at the moment prescribed, and on such subjects as he chose. Parmino, sarcastically. I don't think it was gallant in the captain to place a restraint on your tongue. But what is this piece of business that Bacchus has just now been telling me indoors here? Pointing to her house. A thing I never supposed would come to pass, that he and her lifetime could possibly prevail upon his feelings to take a wife. To take, indeed. Why, look you, has he not taken one? He has, but I doubt whether this match will be lasting. May the gods and goddesses grant it so if it is for the advantage of Bacchus. But why am I to believe it is so? Tell me, Parmino. There's no need for it being spread abroad. Ask me no more about it. For fear I suppose it may be made public. So may the gods prosper me, I do not ask you in order that I may spread it abroad, but that in silence I may rejoice within myself. You'll never speak to me so fairly that I shall trust my back to your discretion. Oh, don't say so, Parmino, as though you were not much more impatient to tell me this than I to learn what I'm inquiring about. Parmino, to himself. She tells the truth there, and that is my greatest failing. To Philotus. If you give me your word that you'll keep it a secret, I'll tell you. You are now returning to your natural disposition. I give you my word, sayon. Listen. I'm all attention. Pamphilis was in the height of his passion for Bacchus here, when his father began to importune him to take a wife and urge those points which are usual with all fathers, that he himself was now in years, and that he was his only son, that he wished for his support for his declining years. He refused at first, but on his father pressing more urgently, he caused him to become wavering in his mind, whether to yield rather to duty or to love. By hammering on and teasing him, at last the old man gained his point and betrothed him to the daughter of our next door neighbor here, pointing to the house of Phidipus. This did not seem so very disagreeable to Pamphilis, until, on the very point of marriage, when he saw that all was ready and that no respite was granted, but Mary he must. Then, at last, he took it so much to heart that I do believe that Bacchus had been present, even she would have pitied him. Whenever opportunity was afforded for us being alone so that he could converse with me, he used to say, Parmeno, I am ruined. What have I done? Into what misery have I plunged myself? Parmeno, I shall never be able to endure this. To my misery, I am undone. May the gods and goddesses confound you, Bacchus, for vexing him so. To cut the matter short, he took home his wife. On the first night he did not touch the girl. The night that followed that, not a bit the more. What is it you tell me? A young man go to bed with a virgin, intoxicated to boot, and able to restrain himself from touching her. You do not say what's likely, nor do I believe it to be the truth. I suppose it does seem so to you, for no one comes to you unless he is eager for you, but he had married her against his will. After this, what followed? In a very few days after, Panthelus took me aside away from the house and told me how that the young woman was still untouched by him and how that before he had taken her home as his wife he had hoped to be able to endure this marriage. But, Parmenal, as I cannot resolve to live with her any longer, it is neither honorable in me nor of advantage to the young woman herself for her to be turned to ridicule, but rather I ought to return her to her relations just as I received her. You tell me of a conscientious and virtuous disposition in Panthelus. For me to declare this I consider to be inconvenient to me, but for her to be sent back to her father without mentioning any blame would be insolent, but I am in hopes that she, when she is sensible, she cannot live with me, will go at last of her own accord. What did he do in the meanwhile? Used he to visit Bacchus? Every day, but as is usually the case, after she saw that he belonged to another, she immediately became more ill-natured and peevish. In faith that's not to be wondered at. And this circumstance in a special contributed to estrange him from her, after he had fairly examined himself and her, and the one that was at home, he formed a judgment by comparison upon the principles of them both. She, just as might be expected from a person of respectable and free birth, chaste and virtuous, patient, under the slights and all the insults of her husband and concealing his affronts. Upon this, his mind, partly overcome by compassion for his wife, partly constrained by the insolence of the other, was gradually estranged from Bacchus and transferred its affections to the other after having found a congenial disposition. In the meantime, their dyes had imbrose an old man, a relative of theirs, his property there devolved on them by law. That there his father drove the lovesick Penphilus much against his will, he left his wife here with his mother, for the old man has retired into the country, he seldom comes into the city. What is there yet in this marriage to prevent its being lasting? You shall hear just now. At first, for several days, there really was a good understanding between them. In the meantime, however, in a strange way, she began to take a dislike to Sustrata, nor yet was there ever any quarrel or words between them. What then? If at any time she came to converse with her, she would instantly withdraw from her presence and refuse to see her. And fine, when she could no longer endure her, she pretended that she was sent for by her mother to assist at a sacrifice. When she had been there a few days, Sustrata ordered her to be fetched. She made some, I know not what, excuse. Again, she gave similar orders. No one sent back any excuse. After she had sent for her repeatedly, they pretended that the damsel was sick. My mistress immediately went to see her. No one admitted her. On the old man coming to know of this, he yesterday came up from the country on purpose and waited immediately upon the father of Filomena. What passed between them, I do not know as yet. But really, I do feel some anxiety in what way this is to end. You now have the whole matter, and I shall proceed with her eye-wares on my way. And I too, for I made an appointment with a certain stranger to meet him. May the gods prosper what you undertake. Farewell. And a kind farewell to you, my dear Filotis. Oh, faith of gods and men! What a race is this! What a conspiracy this! That all women should desire and reject every individual thing alike, and not a single one can you find a swerve in any respect from the disposition of the rest. For instance, quite as though with one accord do all mother-in-laws hate their daughters-in-law. Just in the same way is it their system to oppose their husbands? Their obstinacy here is the same. In the very same school they all seem to me to have been trained up to perverseness. Of that school, if there is any mistress, I am very sure that she— Pointing at Sastrata. It is. Wretched me, when now I don't so much as know why I am accused. Eh, don't you know? So may the gods kindly prosper me, Luckies, and so may it be allowed us to pass our lives together in unity. Lakies, aside. May the gods avert such a misfortune. I'm sure that before long you will be sensible that I have been accused by you undeservedly. You undeservedly? Can anything possibly be said that you deserve in return for this conduct of yours? You, who are disgracing both me and yourself and the family, and are laying up sorrow for your son. Then, besides, you are making our connections become from friends, enemies to us, who have thought him deserving for them to entrust their children to him. You alone have put yourself forward by your folly to be causing this disturbance. What, I? You, woman, I say, who take me to be a stone, not a man. Do you think, because it's my habit to be so much in the country, that I don't know in what way each person is passing his life here? I know much better what is going on here than there, where I am daily. For this reason, because, just as you act at home, I am spoken of abroad. Sometimes since, indeed, I heard that Filomena had taken a dislike to you. Nor did I the least wonder at it. Indeed, if she hadn't done so, it would have been more surprising. But I did not suppose that she would have gone so far as to hate even the rest of the family. If I had known that, she should have remained here in preference, and you should have gone away. But consider how undeservedly these vexations arise on your account, Sostrada. I went to live in the country, in compliance with your request, and to look after my affairs, in order that my circumstances might be able to support your lavishness and comforts, not sparing my own exertions beyond what's reasonable and my time of life allows. That you should take no care in return for all this, that there should be nothing to vex me? Upon my word, through no means or fault of mine has this taken place. Nay, through you in especial, you were the only person here. On you alone, Sostrada, falls all the blame. You ought to have taken care of matters here, as I had released you from other anxieties. Is it not a disgrace for an old woman to pick a quarrel with a girl? You will say it was her fault. Indeed I do not say so, my dear Lockies. I am glad of that, so may the gods prosper me for my son's sake. I am quite sure of this, that no fault of yours can possibly put you in a worse light. How do you know, my husband, whether she may not have pretended to dislike me on purpose that she might be more with her mother? What say you to this? Is it not proof sufficient, when yesterday no one was willing to admit you into the house when you went to see her? Why, they told me she was very ill just then. For that reason I was not admitted to her. I fancy that your humours are more her malady than anything else. And with good reason, in fact, for there is not one of you but wants her son to take a wife. And the match which has taken your fancy must be the one. When, at your solicitation, they have married, then, at your solicitation, they are to put them away again. Scene two. Enter Fidipus from his house. Fidipus, speaking to Filumena, within. Although I am aware, Filumena, that I have the right to compel you to do what I order, still, being swayed by the feelings of a father, I will prevail upon myself to yield to you and not oppose your inclinations. And look, most opportunally I see Fidipus. I'll presently know from him how it is. Ac costing him. Fidipus, although I am aware that I am particularly indulgent to all my family, still it is not to that degree to let my good nature corrupt their minds. And if you would do the same, it would be more for your own interest and ours. At present I see that you are under the control of those women. Just look at that now. I waited on you yesterday about your daughter. You sent me away just as wise as I came. It does not become you if you wish this alliance to continue to conceal your resentment. If there is any fault on our side, disclose it. Either by clearing ourselves or excusing it, we shall remedy these matters for you, yourself, the judge. But if this is the cause of detaining her at your house because she is ill, then I think you do me an injustice, Fidipus, if you are afraid, lest she should not be attended with sufficient care at my house. But so may the gods prosper me. I do not yield in this to you, although you are her father, that you can wish her well more than I do, and that of my son's account, who I know values her not less than his own self. Nor, in fact, is it unknown to you how much, as I believe, it will vex him if he comes to know of this. For this reason I wish to have her home before he returns. Larches, I am sensible of both your carefulness and your goodwill, and I am persuaded that all you say is just as you say, and I would have you believe me in this. I am anxious for her to return to you if I possibly can, by any means, effect it. What is it that prevents you from affecting it? Come now. Does she make any complaint against her husband? By no means. For when I urged it still more strongly, and attempted to constrain her by force to return, she solemnly protested that she couldn't possibly remain with you while Pamphillus was absent. Probably each has his own failing. I am naturally of an indulgent disposition. I cannot for my own family. Larches, turning to his wife, who stands apart. Ah, Stostrada. Ah, alas, wretched me. Larches, to Phidipus. Is this your final determination? For the present at least. As it seems. But have you anything else to say? For I have some business that obliges me to go at once to the forum. I'll go with you. Excellent. Scene three. Stostrada alone. Upon my faith we assuredly are all of us hated by our husbands with equal injustice on account of a few, who cause us all to appear deserving of harsh treatment. For, may so the gods prosper me, as to watch my husband accuses me of, I am quite guiltless. But it is not so easy to clear myself, so strongly have people come to the conclusion that all stepmothers are harsh. If faith not I, indeed, for I never regarded her otherwise than if she had been my own daughter. Nor can I conceive how this has befallen me. But really, for many reasons, I long for my son's return home with impatience. Goes into her house. End of act two. Act three of Hikaira. The mother-in-law by Terence. Translated by Henry Thomas Riley. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Scene one. Enter Pamphilus and Parmino. No, individual, I do believe ever met with more crosses in love than I. Alas, unhappy me, that I have thus been sparing of life. Was it for this I was so very impatient to return home? Oh, how much more preferable I had been for me to pass my life anywhere in the world than to return here and be sensible that I am thus wretched. For all of us know who have met with trouble from any cause, that all the time that passes before we come to the knowledge of it is so much pain. Still, as it is, you'll the sooner know how to extricate yourself from these misfortunes. If you had not returned, this breach might have become much wider, but now, Pamphilus, I am sure that both will be odd by your presence. You will learn the facts, remove their enmity, restore them to good feeling once again. These are betrifals which you have persuaded yourself are so grievous. Why comfort me? Is there a person in all the world so wretched as I? Before I took her to wife, I had my heart engaged by other affections. Now, though on this subject I should be silent, it is easy for anyone to know how much I have suffered. Yet I never dared refuse her whom my father forced upon me. With difficulty did I withdraw myself from another, and disengage my affections so firmly rooted there. And hardly had I fixed them in another quarter, when lo! a new misfortune has arisen which may tear me from her too. Then, besides, I suppose that in this matter I shall find either my mother or my wife in fault. And when I find such to be the fact, what remains but to become still more wretched? For duty, Parmeno, bids me bear with the feelings of a mother. Then to my wife I am bound by obligations, with so much temper did she formally bear my usage, that on no occasion disclose the many wrongs inflicted on her by me. But, Parmeno, something of consequence, I know not what it is, must have happened for this misunderstanding to have arisen between them that has lasted so long. Or else, something frivolous of faith, if you would only give words, their proper value. Those which are sometimes the greatest enmities do not argue the greatest injuries, for it often happens that in certain circumstances, in which another would not even be out of temper, for the very same reason a passionate man becomes your greatest enemy, what enmities do children entertain among themselves for trifling injuries? For what reason? Why, because they have a weak understanding to direct them. Just so are these women, almost like children with their fickle feelings. Perhaps a single word has occasioned this enmity between them, master. Go, Parmeno, into the house, and carry word that I have arrived. A noise is heard in the house of Oedipus. What means this? Be silent. I perceive a bustling about, and a running to and fro. Parmeno, going to the door. Come, then, I'll approach nearer to the door. He listens. Did you hear? Don't be prading. He listens. Oh, Jupiter, I heard a shriek. You yourself are talking while you forbid me. Marina, within the house. Per thee, my child, do be silent. That seems to be the voice of Filomena's mother. I'm undone. Why so? Utterly ruined. For what reason? Parmeno, you are concealing from me some great misfortune to me unknown. They said that your wife, Filomena, was in alarm about something. I know not what. Whether that may be it, perchance, I don't know. I am undone. Why didn't you tell me of this? Because I couldn't tell everything at once. What is the malady? I don't know. What? Has no one brought a physician to see her? I don't know. Why do I going indoors that I may know as soon as possible for certain what it is? In what condition, Filomena, am I now to find you? But if you aren't any peril beyond a doubt, I will perish with you. Goes into the house of Phidipus. Seen to. Parmeno alone. There's no need for me to follow him into the house at present, for I see that we are all disagreeable to them. Yesterday no one would give Sustrada admittance. If, perchance, the malady should become worse, which really I could far from wish, for my master's sake especially. They would at once say that Sustrada's servant had been in there. They would invent a story that I had brought some mischief against their lives and persons, and consequence of which the malady had been increased. My mistress would be blamed, and I should incur heavy punishment. Seen three. Enter Sustrada. Sustrada to herself. In dreadful alarm I have for some time heard I know not what confusion going on here. I'm sadly afraid Filomena's illness is getting worse. Asclepius, I do entreat thee, and thee, health, that it may not be so. Now I'll go visit her. Approaches the door. Parmeno coming forward. Hark you, Sustrada. Sustrada, turning round. Well, you will again be shut out there. What, Parmeno, is it you? I'm undone. Rich that I am. What shall I do? Am I not to go see the wife of Pamphilus when she is ill here next door? Not go see her. Don't even send any person for the purpose of seeing her, for I'm of the opinion that he who loves a person to whom he is an object of dislike commits a double mistake. He himself takes a useless trouble and causes annoyance to the other. Besides, your son went in to see how she is as soon as he arrived. What is it you say? Has Pamphilus arrived? He has. I give thanks unto the gods. Well through that news my spirits are revived and anxiety has departed from my heart. For this reason, then, I am especially unwilling that you should go in there. For if Filumena's malady at all abates, she will, I am sure, when they are by themselves, at once tell him all the circumstances, both what misunderstandings have arisen between you and how the difference first began. But see, he's coming out. How sad he looks. Running up to him. Oh my son, embraces him. My mother, blessings on you. I rejoice that you are returned safe. Is Filumena in a fair way? She is a little better. Would that the gods may grant it so. Why then do you weep or why so dejected? All's well, mother. What meant that confusion? Tell me, was she suddenly taken ill? Such was the fact. What is her malady? A fever. An intermittent one? So they say. Go in the house, please, mother. I'll follow you immediately. Very well. Goes into her house. Do you run and meet the servants upon Menel and help them with the baggage? Why? Don't they know the way themselves to come to our house? Pampholis, stamping. Do you loiter? Exit Parmino. Scene five. Pampholis, alone. I cannot discover any fitting commencement of my troubles and which to begin to narrate the things that have so unexpectedly befallen me, some of which with these eyes I have beheld, some I have heard with my ears and on account of which I so hastily betook myself an extreme agitation out of doors. For just now, when full of alarm, I rushed into the house expecting to find my wife afflicted with some other malady than what I have found it to be. I am me. Immediately the servant mays beheld that I had arrived. They all at the same moment joyfully exclaimed, he has come from having so suddenly caught sight of me. But I soon perceived the countenances of all of them change because it so unseasonable a juncture chance that brought me here. One of them in the meantime hastily ran before me to give notice that I had come. Impatient to see my wife, I followed close. When I entered the room, that instant to my sorrow, I found out her malady. For neither did the time afford any interval to enable her to conceal it, nor could she complain in any other accents and those which the case itself prompted. When I perceived this, oh disgraceful conduct, I exclaimed, and instantly hurried away from the spot in tears, overwhelmed by such an incredible and shocking circumstance. Her mother followed me. Just as I got to the threshold she threw herself on her knees. I felt compassion for her. I surely hear this effect in my opinion just as matters before us all, so are we elated or depressed. And once she began to address me in these words, Oh my dear Pamphilus, you see the reason why she left your house for violence was offered to her when formerly unmade by some villain to us unknown. Now she took refuge here then that from you and others she might conceal her labor. But when I called to mind her in treaties, I cannot wretched as I am refrain from tears. Whatever chance or fortune it is that she which has brought you here today, by it we do both conjure you, if with equity and justice we may, that a misfortune may be concealed by you and kept a secret from all. If ever you were sensible, my dear Pamphilus, that she was tenderly disposed towards you, she now asks you to grant her this favour in return without making any difficulty of it. But as to taking her back act quite according to your own convenience, you alone are aware of her lying in and that the child is none of yours. For it is said that it was two months after the marriage before she had commerce with you and then this is but the seventh month since she came to you. That you are sensible of this, the circumstances themselves prove. Now if it is possible, Pamphilus, I especially wish and will use my endeavours that her labor may remain unknown to her father and to all in fact. But if that cannot be managed and I do find it out, I will say that she miscarried. I am sure no one will suspect otherwise then what is so likely the child was by you. It shall be instantly exposed. In that case there is no inconvenience whatever to yourself and you will be concealing an outrage so undeservingly committed upon her poor thing. I promise this and I am resolved to keep faith in what I said. But as to taking her back really I do not think that would be at all creditable nor will I do so. Although love for her and habit have a strong influence upon me I weep when it occurs to my mind what must be her life and how great her loneliness in the future. Oh fortune, thou hast never been found constant. By this time my former passion has taught me experience in the present case. The means by which I got word of that I must employ on the present occasion. Parmeno is coming with the servants just far from convenient that he should be here under present circumstances for he was the only person to whom I trusted the secret that I kept aloof from her when I first married her. I am afraid lest if he should frequently hear her cries he might find out that she is in labour. He must be dispatched by me somewhere till Philomena is delivered. Scene 6 Enter at a distance, Parmeno and Socia with people carrying baggage. Parmeno to Socia. Do you say that this voyage was disagreeable to you? Upon my faith, Parmeno it cannot be so much as expressed in words how disagreeable it is to go on a voyage. Do you say so? O lucky man you don't know what evils you have escaped by never having been at sea. For to say nothing of other hardships mark this one only thirty days or more was I on board that ship and every moment to my horror was in continual expectation of death. Such unfavourable weather did we always meet with. How annoying. That's not unknown to me. And fine upon my faith I would rather run away than go back if I knew that I should have to go back there. Why really? But slight causes formally made you, Socia do what you are now threatening to do but I see Pamphilis himself standing before the door. To the attendants to go into the house of Lakeys. Go indoors, I'll accost him to see if he wants anything with me. Of course, it's Pamphilis. What, still standing here master? Yes, and waiting for you. What's the matter? You must run across to the Citadel. Who must? You. To the Citadel? Why thither? To meet Caledemides my entertainer at Mykonos who came over in the same ship with me. Parmalo, aside. Confusion. I should say he has made a vow that if he should ever return home safe he would rupture me with walking. Why are you lingering? What do you wish me to say? Or am I to meet him only? No, say that I cannot meet him today as I appointed so that he may not wait for me to no purpose. Fly! But I don't know the man's appearance. Then I'll tell you how to know it. A huge fellow, ruddy with curly hair, fat with grey eyes and freckled countenance. May the gods come found him. Um, what if he shouldn't come? Am I to wait there even till evening? Yes, wait there. Run! I can't. I'm so tired. Exit slowly. Scene seven. Pamphilis alone. He's off. What shall I do in this distressed situation? Really, yeah. I don't know in what way I'm to conceal this. There's Maraena entreat in me. Her daughter's lying in. I pity the woman. What I can I'll do. Only so long, however, as I observe my duty. For it is proper that I should be regardful of a parent rather than of my passion. But look. I see Fidipus and my father, and they are coming this way. What to say to them? I'm at a loss. Stands apart. Scene eight. Enter at a distance, Lachys and Fidipus. Did you not say, just now, that she was waiting for my son's return? Just so. They say that he has arrived. Let her return. Pamphilus, apart to himself, allowed. What excuse to make to my father for not taking her back, I don't know. Lachys, turning round. Who was it I heard speaking here? Pamphilus, apart. I am resolved to persevere in the course I determined to pursue. She is the very person about whom I was talking to you. Health to you, my father. Health to you, my son. I am glad that you have returned, Pamphilus. And the more especially so, as you are safe and well. I believe you. Have you by just arrived? Only just now. Tell me, what has our cousin Fania left us? Well, really, faith. He was a man very much devoted to pleasure while he lived, and those who are so don't much benefit the heirs, but for themselves leave this commendation. While he lived, he lived well. So then, you have brought home nothing more than a single sentiment? Whatever he has left, we are the gainers, buy it. Oh, I know, it has proved a loss. For I could have wished him alive and well. You may wish that with impunity. He'll never come to life again. And after all, I know which of the two you would prefer. Yesterday, he Pointing to Fidipus Desired for lamena to be fetched to his house. Whispers to Fidipus, nudging him with his elbow. Say that you desired it. Fidipus, aside to Lakeys. Don't punch me so. Too Pamphilus. I desired it. But he'll now send her home again. Of course. I know this whole affair and how it happened. I heard it just now on my arrival. Then may the gods confound those spiteful people who told this news with such readiness. Pamphilus to Fidipus. I'm sure that it has been my study that with reason no slight might possibly be committed by your family. And if I were now truthful to mention of how faithful, loving and tender at disposition I have proved toward her, I could do so truly did I not rather wish that you should learn it of herself. For by that method you will be the more ready to place confidence in my disposition when she who is now acting unjustly toward me speaks favourably of me. And that through no fault of mine this separation has taken place I call the gods to witness. But since she considers that it is not befitting her to give way to my mother and with readiness conformed to her temper and as on no other terms it is possible for good feeling to exist between them other my mother must be separated, Fidipus, from me or else Filomena. Now affection urges me rather to consult my mother's pleasure. Pamphilus, your words have reached my ears not otherwise than to my satisfaction. Since I find that you postpone all considerations for your parent. But take care, Pamphilus, lest impaled by resentment you carry matters too far. How impaled by resentment could I now be biased against her who never has been guilty of anything toward me, Father, that I could not wish who has often deserved as well as I could desire. I both love and praise and exceedingly regret her for I have thrown by experience that she was a full wondrously engaging disposition with regard to myself and I sincerely wish that she may spend the remainder of her life with a husband who may prove more fortunate than me. Since necessity thus tears her from me. Tis in your own power to prevent that. If you are in your senses order her to come back. It is not my intention, Father. I shall study my mother's interests. Going away. Whither are you going? Stay, stay I tell you. Whither are you going? Exit, Pamphilus. Scene nine. Lakeys and Fidipus. What obstinacy is this? Did I not tell you, Fidipus, that he would take this matter amiss? It was for that reason I untreated you to send your daughter back. Upon my faith I did not believe he would be so brutish. Does he now fancy that I shall come begging to him? If so it is that he chooses to take back his wife, why let him? If he is of another mind let him pay back her portion and take himself off. Just look at that now. You two are getting obstinate and huffish. Fidipus speaking with anger. You have returned to us in a very ungovernable mode, Pamphilus. This anger will depart though he has some reason for being vexed. Because you have had a windfall, a little money, your minds are elevated. Are you going to fall out with me too? Let him consider and bring me word today whether he will or will not that she may belong to another if she does not to him. Goes hastily into his own house. Fidipus, stay. Listen to a few words. He's off. What matters it to me? In fine, let them manage it between themselves just as they please. Since neither my son nor he pay any regard to me, they care but little for what I say. I'll carry the quarrel to my wife by whose planning all these things have been brought about and against her I will vent all the vexation that I feel. End of Act 3 Act 4 of Hikara The Mother-in-law by Terence Translated by Henry Thomas Riley This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Scene 1 Enter Marina from her house I am undone. What am I to do? Which way turn myself? In my wretchedness what answer am I to give to my husband? For he seems to have heard the voice of a child when crying. So suddenly did he rush into my daughter without saying a word. What if he comes to know that she has been delivered? For what reason am I to say I kept it concealed? Upon my face I do not know. But there is the noise at the door. I believe it is himself coming out to me. I am utterly undone. Scene 2 Enter Fidipus from the house Fidipus to himself My wife, when she saw me going to my daughter, we took herself out of the house. And look, there she is. Addressing her What have you to say, Marina? Hark you! To you I speak. What? To me my husband? Am I your husband? Do you consider me a husband? Or a man in fact? For woman, if I had ever appeared to you to be either of these, I should not in this way have been held in derision by your doings. By what doings? Do you ask the question is not your daughter brought to bed? Eh, are you silent? By whom? Is it proper for a father to be asking such a question? Oh, shocking! By whom do you think, pray, except by him to whom she was given in marriage? I believe it. Nor indeed is it for a father to think otherwise. But I wonder much what the reason can be for which you so very much wish all of us to be in ignorance of the truth, especially when she has been delivered properly and at the right time, that you should be of a mind so perverse as to prefer that the child should perish through which you might be sure that hereafter there would be a friendship more lasting between us. Rather than that, at the expense of your feelings, his wife should continue with him. I suppose this to be their fault, while in reality, it lies with you. I am an unhappy creature. I wish I were sure that it was so, but now it recurs to my mind what you once said about this matter when we accepted him as our son-in-law. For you declared that you could not enjoy your daughter to be married to a person who was attached to a courtesan and who spent his nights away from home. Marina, aside, any cause, whatever, I had rather he should suspect than the right one. I knew much sooner than you did, Marina, that he kept a mistress, but this I never considered a crime in young men, for it is natural to them all. For he faith, the time will soon come when even he will be disgusted with himself for doing so. But just as you formally showed yourself, you have never ceased to be the same up to the present time, in order that you might withdraw your daughter from him, and that what I did might not hold good. One thing itself now plainly proves how far you wished it carried out. Do you suppose that I am so willful that I could have entertained such feelings towards one whose mother I am if this match had been to our advantage? Can you possibly foresee or judge what is to our advantage? You have heard it of someone, perhaps, who has told you that he has seen him coming from or going to his mistress. What then? If he has done so with discretion, and, but occasionally, is it not more kind in us to conceal our knowledge of it than to do our best to be aware of it, in consequence of which he will detest us. For if he could all at once have withdrawn himself from her with whom he has been intimate for so many years, I should not have deemed him a man, or likely to prove a constant husband for our daughter. Do have done about the young man, I pray, and what you say I've been guilty of. Go away, meet him by yourself. Ask him whether he wishes to have her as a wife or not. If so, it is that he should say he does wish it. Why, send her back. But if, on the other hand, he does not wish it, I have taken the best course for my child. And suppose he does not wish it, and you, Myrina, knew him to be in fault. Still, I was at hand, by whose advice it was proper for these matters to be settled. Therefore, I am greatly offended that you have presumed to act thus without my leave. I forbid you to attempt to carry the child anywhere out of this house. But I am very foolish to be expecting her to obey my orders. I'll go indoors and charge the servants to allow it to be carried out nowhere. Goes into the house. Scene three, Myrina, alone. Upon my faith, I do believe that there is no woman living more wretched than I, for how he would take it if he came to know the real state of the case in faith is not unknown to me, when he bears this, which is of less consequence, with such angry feelings. And I know not in what way his sediments can possibly be changed. Out of very many misfortunes, this one evil lone had been wanting to me, for him to compel me to rear a child of whom we know not who is the father. For when my daughter was ravished, it was so dark that his person could not be distinguished, nor was anything taken from him on the occasion by which it could be afterward discovered who he was. He, unleaving her, took away from the girl by force a ring which he had on her finger. I'm afraid, too, of Pamphilus, that he may be unable any longer to conceal what I have requested when he learns that the child of another is being brought up as his. Goes into the house. Scene four, Enter Sustrata and Pamphilus. It is not unknown to me, my son, that I am suspected by you as the cause of your wife having left our house in the consequence of my conduct, although you carefully conceal your knowledge of it. But so may the gods prosper me, and so may you answer all my hopes. I have never knowingly deserved that hatred of me should with reason possess her. And while I thought before that you loved me, on that point you have confirmed my belief. For indoors your father has just now related to me in what way you have preferred me to your passion. Now it is my determination to return you the favour that you may understand that with me lies the reward of your affection. My Pamphilus, I think that this is expedient both for yourselves and my own reputation. I have finally resolved to retire hence into the country with your father, that my presence may not be an obstacle, and that no pretense may remain why your filomena should not return to you. Pray, what sort of resolution is this? Driven away by her folly, should you be removing from the city to live in the country? You shall not do so, and I will not permit, mother, anyone who may wish to censure us to say that this has been done through my perverseness and not your inclination. Besides, I do not wish you, for my sake, to forgull your friends and relations and festive days. Upon my word, these things afford me no pleasure now. While my time of life permitted it, I enjoyed them enough. Satiety of that mode of life has now taken possession of me. This is at present my chief concern, that the length of my life may prove an annoyance to no one, or that he may look forward with impatience to my death. Here I see that, without deserving it, I am disliked. It is time for me to retire. Thus, in the best way, I imagine, I shall cut short all grounds of discontent with all. I shall both free myself from suspicion and shall be pleasing them. Pray, let me avoid this reproach, which so generally attaches on women to their disadvantage. Pamphilus, aside. How happy am I in other respects, but not for this one thing alone, and having such a good mother and her for my wife. Pray, my Pamphilus, can you not, seeing how each woman is, prevail upon yourself to put up with one matter of inconvenience? If everything else is according to your wish, and such as I take it to be, my son, do grant me this indulgence and take her back. Lass wretched me. And me as well, for this affair does not cause me less sorrow than you, my son. Scene five. Enter Lakeys. While standing by just here, I have heard, wife, the conversation you have been holding with him. It is true wisdom to be enabled to govern the feelings whenever there is necessity. To do, at the present moment, what may perhaps, in the end, be necessary to be done. Good luck to it, Itroth. Retire, then, into the country. There I will bear with you and you with me. I hope so, Ife. Go indoors, then, and get together the things that are to be taken with you. I have now said it. I'll do as you desire. Go into the house. Father. What do you want, Pamphylis? My mother go away. By no means. Why would you have it so? Because I am as yet undetermined what I shall do about my wife. How is that? What should you intend to do but bring her home? For my part, I could like and can hardly forbear it. But I shall not alter my design. That which is most advantageous I shall pursue. I suppose that they will be better reconciled and consequence if I shall take her back. You cannot tell. But it matters nothing to you which they do when she has gone away. Persons of this age are disliked by young people. It is right for us to withdraw from the world. In fine we are now a nice byword. We are, Pamphylis, the old man and the old woman. But I see Phidipus coming out just at the time. Let's accost him. Scene 6 Enter Phidipus from his house. Phidipus speaking at the door to Philomena within. Upon my faith I am angry with you too, Philomena. Extremely so. For all my word you have acted badly. Still, there is an excuse for you in this matter. Your mother forced you to it. But for her there is none. Phidipus, you meet me at a lucky moment just at the very time. What's the matter? Pamphylis, aside. What answer shall I make them? On what manner keep the secret? Lekies, to Phidipus. Tell your daughter that Sostrata is going into the country, that she may not now be afraid of returning home. Alas, your wife has been guilty of no fault in this affair. All this mischief has been originated by my wife Myrina. Pamphylis, aside. They are changing sides. Is she that causes our disturbances, Laches? Pamphylis, aside. So long as I don't take her back, let her cause as much disturbance as she pleases. I, Pamphylis, could really wish, if it were possible, this alliance between us to be lasting. If you are otherwise inclined, still take the child. Pamphylis, aside. He has discovered that she has been brought to bed. I'm undone. The child? What child? We have had a grandson born to us, for my daughter was removed from you in a state of pregnancy. And yet never before this day did I know that she was pregnant. So may the gods prosper me, you bring good tidings, and I am glad a child has been born and that she is safe. But what kind of woman have you for a wife, or of what sort of a temper, that we should have been kept in ignorance of this so long? I cannot sufficiently express how disgraceful this conduct appears to me. This conduct does not vex me less than yourself, douches. Pamphylis, aside. Even if it had just now been a matter of doubt to me, it is so no longer, since the child of another man is to accompany her. Pamphylis, there is no room now for deliberation for you in this matter. Pamphylis, aside. I'm undone. Lakies, to Pamphylis. We were often longing to see the day on which there should be one to call you a father. It has come to pass. I return thanks to the gods. Pamphylis, aside. I am ruined. Take home your wife, and don't oppose my will. Father, if you had wished to have children by me, or to continue to be my wife, I am quite certain she would not have concealed from me what I find she has concealed. Now, as I find that her mind is estranged from me, and think that there would be no agreement between us in the future, why should I take her back? The young woman has done what her mother persuaded her. Is that to be wondered at? Do you suppose you can find any woman who is free from fault, or is it that men have no failings? Do you yourself now consider, Lakies and you, Pamphylis, whether it is most advisable for you to leave her, or take her back? What your wife may do is not in my control. Under neither circumstance will you meet with any difficulty from me, but what are we to do with the child? You do ask an absurd question. Whatever happens, send him back his child, of course, that we may bring it up as ours. Pamphylis, in a low voice. A child which the father has abandoned? Am I to rear? What was it you said? How, not rear at Pamphylis? Prithee, are we to expose it in preference? What badness is this? Really, I cannot now be silent any longer, or you forced me to say in his presence, Pointing to Philippus, What I would rather not. Do you suppose I am in ignorance of the cause of your tears, or what it is on account of which you are perplexed to this degree? In the first place, when you alleged as a reason that, on account of your mother, you could not have your wife at home, she promised that she would leave the house. Now, since you see this pretext as well, take it away from you, because a child has been born without your knowledge, you have got another. You are mistaken if you suppose that I am ignorant of your feelings. That at last you might prevail upon your feelings to take this step, how long a period for loving a mistress did I allow you. With what patience did I bear the expense you were at in keeping her? I remonstrated with you and entreated you to take a wife. I said that it was time. By my persuasions, you married. What you then did in obedience to me, you did as became you. Now again you have set your fancy upon a mistress, and to gratify her you do an injury to the other as well. For I see plain that you have once more relapsed into the same course of life. What? I? Your own self, and you act unjustly therein. You feign false grounds for discord that you may live with her when you have gotten rid of this witness of your actions. Your wife has perceived it too. For what other reason had she for leaving you? Fidipus to himself. It's clear he guesses right, for that must be it. I will give you my oath that none of these is the reason. Oh, take home your wife, or tell me why you should not. It is not the time at present. Take the child, for surely that is not in fault. I will consider about the mother afterwards. Pampholus, apart. In every way I am wretched, and what to do I know not. So many troubles as my father now besetting wretched me on every side. I'll go away from here, since I avail but little by my presence. For without my consent I do not believe that they will bring up the child, especially as on that point my mother-in-law will second me. Exits speedily. Scene seven. Lakies and Fidipus. Lakies to Pampholus. Do you run away? What, and give me no distinct answer? To Fidipus. Does he seem to you to be in his senses? Let him alone. Fidipus, give me the child. I'll bring it up. By all means. No wonder if my wife has taken this amiss. Women are resentful. They do not easily put up with such things. Hence the anger of hers, for she herself told me of it. I would not mention this to you in his presence, and at first I did not believe her. But now it is true beyond a doubt, for I see that his feelings are altogether adverse to marriage. What am I to do then, Fidipus? What advice do you give? What are you to do? I am of opinion that first we ought to go to this mistress of his. Let us use in treaties with her, then let us rebuke her, and at last let us very seriously threaten her, if she gives him any encouragement in the future. I will do as you advise. Turning to an attendant. Oh there boy. Run to the house of Bacchus here, our neighbour. Desire her in my name to come hither. Exit attendant. And you, I further entreat, to give me your assistance in this affair? Well, I have already said, and now I say again to the same effect, Larches, I wish this alliance between us to continue, if by any means it possibly may, which I trust will be the case. But should you like me to be with you while you meet her? Why yes, but first go and get someone as a nurse for the child. Exit Fidipus. Scene 8 Enter Bacchus, attended by her women. Bacchus to her women. It is not for nothing that Larches now desires to speak with me, and in faith I am not very far from mistaking in making a guess what it is he wants me for. Blakies to himself. I must take care that I don't, through anger, misgaining in this quarter what I otherwise might, and that I don't do anything which her after it would have been better I had not done. I'll accost her. Accost, sir. Bacchus, good morrow to you. Good morrow to you, Larches. Troth now, Bacchus. I suppose you somewhat wonder what can be my reason for sending the lad to fetch you out of doors. Upon my faith I am even in some anxiety as well, when I reflect what I am, lest the name of my calling should be to my prejudice. For my behavior I can easily defend. If you speak the truth you will be a no-danger woman from me. Or I am now of that age that it is not meet for me to receive forgiveness for a fault. For that reason do I the more carefully attend to every particular that I may not act with rashness. Or if you now do or intend to do that which is proper for deserving women to do, it would be unjust for me in my ignorance to offer an injury to you when undeserving of it. On my word, great is the gratitude that I ought to feel toward you for such conduct. For he who, after committing an injury, would excuse himself, would profit me but little. But what is the matter? You admit my son, Pamphilus, to your house. Ah! Let me speak. Before he was married to this woman I tolerated your amor. Stay, I have not yet said to you what I intended. He has now got a wife. Look out for another person more to be depended on, while you have time to deliberate, for neither will he be of this mind all his life, nor, in faith, will you be always of your present age. Who is it, Cestis? His mother-in-law. What? That I? That you do. And she has taken away her daughter. And for that reason has wished secretly to destroy the child that has been born. Did I know any other means whereby I might be enabled to establish my credit with you more solemn than an oath, I would, likeies, assure you of this, that I have kept Pamphilus at a distance from me ever since he took a wife. You are very good. But pray, do you know what I would prefer that you should do? What? Tell me. Go indoors, there. Pointing to the house of Fidipus. To the woman. And make the same promise on oath to them. Satisfy their minds, and clear yourself from this charge. I will do so. Although, in faith, if it had been any other woman of this calling, she would not have done so, I am quite sure. Present herself before a married woman for such a purpose? But I do not wish your son to be suspected on an unfounded report, nor appear in constant, undeservedly to you, to whom he by no means ought. He has deserved of me that, so far as I am able, I should do him a service. Your language has rendered me quite friendly and well-disposed toward you. But not only did they think so, I too believed it. Now that I had found you quite different from what I had expected, take care that you still continue the same. Make use of my friendship as you please, if otherwise. But I will forbear that you may not hear anything unkind from me. But there's one thing I recommend you. Make trial what sort of a friend I am, or what I can effect as such, rather than what as an enemy. Scene nine. Enter Fidipus and a nurse. Fidipus to the nurse. The thing at my house will I suffer you to be in want of. But whatever is requisite shall be supplied you in abundance. Still, when you are well fed and well drenched, do take care that the child has enough. The nurse goes into his house. Lakey's to Bacchus. My son's father-in-law, I see, is coming. He is bringing a nurse for the child. Ac costing him. Fidipus, Bacchus swears most solemnly. Is this she? It is. Upon my faith these women don't fear the gods, and I don't think that the gods care about them. Bacchus, pointing to her attendance. I will give you up my female servants. With my full permission examine them with any tortures you please. The business at present is this. I must make his wife return home to Pamthylos. Should I effect that, I shall not regret its being reported that I have been the only one to do what other courtesans avoid doing. We find, Fidipus, that our wives have been unjustly suspected by us in this matter. Let us now try her still further, or if your wife discovers that she has given credence to a false charge she will dismiss her resentment. But if my son is also angry by reason of the circumstance that his wife has been brought to bed without his knowledge, that is a trifle. His anger on that account will speedily subside. Assurately in this manner there is nothing so bad as to be deserving of a separation. I sincerely wish it may be so. Examine her. Here she is. She herself will satisfy you. Why do you tell me these things? Is it because you have not already heard what my feelings are with regard to this matter, Larches? Do you only satisfy their minds? Throth now, Bacchus. I do entreat that what you have promised me you will do. Would you wish me then to go in about this business? Go, and satisfy their minds so as to make them believe it. I'll go, although, upon my word, I am quite sure that my presence will be disagreeable to them. For a married woman is the enemy of a mistress when she has been separated from her husband. But they will be your friends when they know the reason of your coming. And I promise that they shall be your friends when they know the fact. For you will release them from their mistake and yourself at the same time from suspicion. Wretched me! I am ashamed to meet Philomena. To her attendance. Do you both follow me into the house? Goes into the house with Fedipus and her attendance. Laches to himself. What is there that I could more wish for than what I see has happened to this woman? To gain favour without loss to myself and to benefit myself at the same time. For if now it is the fact that she has really withdrawn from Pemphilis, she knows that by that step she has acquired honour and reputation. She returns the favour to him and by the same means attaches us as friends to herself. Goes into the house. End of Act 4 Act 5 of Hecira, The Mother-in-Law by Terrence Translated by Henry Thomas Riley This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Scene 1 Enter Parmino, moving along with difficulty. Parmino to himself. Upon my faith, my master does assuredly think my labour of little value sent me for nothing, where I have been sitting the whole day to no purpose, waiting at the citadel for Caledemides, his landlord at Mykonos. And so, while sitting there today, like a fool, as each person came by, I accosted him. Young man, just tell me, pray, are you a Myconian? I am not. But is your name Caledemides? No. Have you any form or guest here named Pemphilis? All said, no, and I don't believe there is any such person. At last, if faith, I was quite ashamed and went away. But how is it I see Bacchus coming out of our neighbours? What business can she have there? Scene 2 Enter Bacchus from the house of Phidopus. Parmino, you make your appearance opportunely. Run with old speed to Pemphilis. Why thither? Say that I entreat him to come. To your house? No. To Philomena. What's the matter? Nothing that concerns you, so cease to make inquiry. Am I to say nothing else? Yes. That Mirina has recognised that ring as her daughter's, which he formally gave me. I understand. Is that all? That's all. He will be here directly, he has heard this from you. But, do you linger? Far from it. Indeed, for I've not had the opportunity given to me to-day. So much with running and walking about have I wasted the whole day. Goes into the house of Lakeys. Scene 3 Bacchus alone What great joy have I caused for Pemphilis by my coming to-day. How many blessings have I brought him? And from how many sorrows have I rescued him? The son I say for him, when it was nearly perishing through the agency of these women, and of himself. A wife, whom he thought that he must cast off forever, I'll restore to him. From the suspicion that he lay under with his father and Phidipus, I have cleared him. This ring, in fact, was the cause of these discoveries being made. For I remember that about ten months ago, at an early hour of night, he came running home to my house, out of breath, without a companion, and sir charged with wine, with this ring in his hand. I felt alarmed immediately. My Pemphilis, I said, pretty, my dear, why thus breathless, or where did you get that ring? Tell me. He began to pretend that he was thinking of something else. When I saw that, I began to suspect I know not what, and to press him still more to tell me. The fellow confessed that he had ravished some female he knew not whom, in the street, and said that while she was struggling, he had taken that ring away from her. Marina he'll recognize that just now, while I had it on my finger. She asked whence it came. I told her all the story. Hence the discovery has been made that it was Philomena ravished by him, and that his newborn child is his. I am overjoyed that this happiness has befallen him through my agency, although other courtesans would not have similar feelings. Nor indeed is it to our interest that any lover should find pleasure in matrimony. But in faith, I never, for the sake of gain, will give my mind to base actions. So long as I had the opportunity, I found him to be kind, easy, and good-natured. This marriage has fallen out, unluckily for me, that I confess to be the fact. But upon my word, I do think that I have done nothing for it to befall me deservedly. It is but reasonable to endure inconveniences from one from whom I have received so many benefits. Scene Four Enter Pamphilus and Parmeno from the House of Lakeys on the other side of the stage. Once more, take care, will you, my dear Parmeno, that you have brought me a faithful and distinct account so as not to allure me for a short time to indulge in these transient joys. I've taken care. For certain. For certain. I am quite a god, if it is so. You'll find it true. Just stay, will you. I fear that I am believing one thing and you are telling another. I am staying. I think you said to this effect that Mariner had discovered that Bacchus has her ring. It is the fact. The one I formally gave to her, and she has desired you to tell me this, is such the fact. Such is so, I tell you. Who is there happier than I? In fact, more full of joyousness. What am I to present you for these tidings? What? What? I know not. But I know. What? Why, nothing. For neither in the tidings nor in myself do I know of there being any advantage to you. What? Am I to suffer you who have cast me when dead to be restored from the shades to life to leave me unrewarded? How you deem me too thankless. But look, I see Bacchus standing before the door. She is waiting for me, I suppose. I'll accost her. Save you, Pamphilus. Oh, Bacchus. Oh, my Bacchus, my preserver. It is a fortunate thing and gives me great delight. By your actions you give me reason to believe you, and so much do you retain your former charming qualities, that wherever you go the meeting with you, your company, your conversation, always give pleasure. And you, upon my word, possess your former manners and disposition, so much so that not a single man living is more engaging than you. Ha! Do you tell me so? You had reason, Pamphilus, for being so fond of your wife. For never before today did I set eyes upon her so as to know her. She seems a very gentle person. Tell the truth. So may the gods bless me, Pamphilus. Tell me, have you as yet told any of these matters to my father? Not a word. Nor is there need. In fact, therefore I'll keep it a secret. I don't wish it to be the case here as it is in the comedies, where everything is known to everybody. Here, those who ought to know know already, but those who ought not to know shall neither hear of it nor know it. Nay more! I will give you a proof why you may suppose that this may be the more easily concealed. Marina has told Fidipus to this effect, that she has given credit to my oath, and that in consequence, in her eyes, you are exculpated. Most excellent! And I trust that this matter will turn out according to our wishes. Master, may I not be allowed to know from you what is the good I have done today, or what it is you are talking about? You may not. Still, I suspect I restore him when dead from the shades below. In what way? You don't know, Pameno, how much you have benefited me today, and from what troubles you have extricated me. Nay, but indeed I do know, and I did not do it without design. I know that well enough. Could Pameno from negligence omit anything that ought to be done? Follow me in, Pameno. I'll follow, for my part. Hm, I have done more good today without knowing it, than ever I did knowingly in all my life. Coming forward. Grant us your applause.