The Comedies of Terence Part 101

GETA. D'ye know our old man's elder brother, Chremes?

DAVUS. Know him? aye, sure.

GETA. You do?--And his son Phaedria?

DAVUS. As well as I know you.

GETA. It so fell out, Both the old men were forc'd to journey forth At the same season. He to Lemnos, ours Into Cilicia, to an old acquaintance Who had decoy'd the old curmudgeon thither By wheedling letters, almost promising Mountains of gold.

DAVUS. To one that had so much More than enough already?

GETA. Prithee, peace!

Money's his pa.s.sion.

DAVUS. Oh, would I had been A man of fortune, I!

GETA. At their departure, The two old gentlemen appointed me A kind of governor to both their sons.

DAVUS. A hard task, Geta!

GETA. Troth, I found it so.

My angry Genius for my sins ordain'd it.

At first I took upon me to oppose: In short, while I was trusty to th' old man, The young one made my shoulders answer for it.

DAVUS. So I suppose: for what a foolish task To kick against the p.r.i.c.ks!

GETA. I then resolv'd To give them their own way in every thing.

DAVUS. Aye, then you made your market.

GETA. Our young spark Play'd no mad pranks at first: but Phaedria Got him immediately a music-girl: Fond of her to distraction! she belong'd To a most avaricious, sordid pimp; Nor had we aught to give;--th' old gentleman Had taken care of that. Naught else remain'd, Except to feed his eyes, to follow her, To lead her out to school, and hand her home.

We too, for lack of other business, gave Our time to Phaedria. Opposite the school, Whither she went to take her lessons, stood A barber's shop, wherein most commonly We waited her return. Hither one day Came a young man in tears: we were amaz'd, And ask'd the cause. Never (said he, and wept) Did I suppose the weight of poverty A load so sad, _so_ insupportable, As it appear'd but now.--I saw but now, Not far from hence, a miserable virgin Lamenting her dead mother. Near the corpse She sat; nor friend, nor kindred, nor acquaintance, Except one poor old woman, was there near To aid the funeral. I pitied her: Her beauty, too, was exquisite.--In short, He mov'd us all: and Antipho at once Cried, "Shall we go and visit her?"--Why, aye, "I think so," said the other; "let us go!"

"Conduct us, if you please."--We went, arriv'd.

And saw her.--Beautiful she was indeed!

More justly to be reckon'd so, for she Had no additions to set off her beauty.

Her hair dishevel'd, barefoot, woe-begone, In tears, and miserably clad: that if The life and soul of beauty had not dwelt Within her very form, all these together Must have extinguish'd it.--The spark, possess'd Already with the music-girl, just cried, "She's well enough."--But our young gentleman----

DAVUS. Fell, I suppose, in love.

GETA. In love, indeed.

But mark the end! next day, away he goes To the old woman straight, beseeching her To let him have the girl.--"Not she, indeed!

Nor was it like a gentleman," she said, "For him to think on't: She's a citizen, An honest girl, and born of honest parents:---- If he would marry her indeed, by law He might do _that_; on no account, aught else."

--Our spark, distracted, knew not what to do: At once he long'd to marry her, at once Dreaded his absent father.

DAVUS. Would not he, Had he return'd, have giv'n consent?

GETA. To wed A girl of neither family nor fortune?

Never.

DAVUS. What then?

GETA. What then! There is a parasite, One Phormio, a bold, enterprising fellow, Who--all the G.o.ds confound him!----

DAVUS. What did he?

GETA. Gave us the following counsel.--"There's a law That orphan Girls should wed their next of kin, Which law obliges too their next of kin To marry them."--I'll say that you're her kinsman, And sue a writ against you. I'll pretend To be her father's friend, and bring the cause Before the judges. Who her father was, Her mother who, and how she's your relation, All this sham evidence I'll forge; by which The cause will turn entirely in my favor.

You shall disprove no t.i.ttle of the charge; So I succeed.--Your father will return; Prosecute me;--what then?--The girl's our own."

DAVUS. A pleasant piece of impudence!

GETA. It pleas'd Our spark at least: he put it into practice; Came into court; and he was cast; and married.

DAVUS. How say you?

GETA. Just as you have heard.

DAVUS. Oh Geta, What will become of you?

GETA. I don't know, faith.

But only this I know, what'er chance brings, I'll patiently endure.

DAVUS. Why, that's well said, And like a man.

GETA. All my dependence is Upon myself.

DAVUS. And that's the best.

GETA. I might Beg one indeed to intercede for me, Who may plead thus--"Nay, pardon him this once!

But if he fails again, I've not a word To say for him."--And well if he don't add, "When I go hence e'en hang him!"

DAVUS. What of him, Gentleman-usher to the music-girl?

How goes he on?

GETA. So, so!

DAVUS. He has not much To give, perhaps.

GETA. Just nothing, but mere hope.

DAVUS. His father too, is he return'd?

GETA. Not yet.

DAVUS. Nor your old man, when do you look for him?

GETA. I don't know certainly: but I have heard That there's a letter from him come to port, Which I am going for.

DAVUS. Would you aught else With me, good Geta?