The Comedies of Terence Part 68

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

_Enter MICIO._

Ho, Storax!--aeschinus did not return Last night from supper; no, nor any one Of all the slaves who went to see for him.

--'Tis commonly--and oh how truly!--said, If you are absent, or delay, 'twere best That should befall you, which your wife denounces, Or which in anger she calls down upon you, Than that which kindest parents fear.--Your wife, If you delay, or thinks that you're in love, Or lov'd, or drink, or entertain yourself, Taking your pleasure, while she pines at home.

--And what a world of fears possess me now!

How anxious that my son is not return'd; Lest he take cold, or fall, or break a limb!

--G.o.ds, that a man should suffer any one To wind himself so close about his heart, As to grow dearer to him than himself!

And yet he is not my son, but my brother's, Whose bent of mind is wholly different.

I, from youth upward even to this day, Have led a quiet and serene town-life; And, as some reckon fortunate, ne'er married.

He, in all points the opposite of this, Has pa.s.s'd his days entirely in the country With thrift and labor; married; had two sons; The elder boy is by adoption mine; I've brought him up; kept; lov'd him as my own; Made him my joy, and all my soul holds dear, Striving to make myself as dear to him.

I give, o'erlook, nor think it requisite That all his deeds should be controll'd by me, Giving him scope to act as of himself; So that the pranks of youth, which other children Hide from their fathers, I have us'd my son Not to conceal from me. For whosoe'er Hath won upon himself to play the false one, And practice impositions on a father, Will do the same with less remorse to others; And 'tis, in my opinion, better far To bind your children to you by the ties Of gentleness and modesty, than fear.

And yet my brother don't accord in this, Nor do these notions nor this conduct please him.

Oft he comes open-mouth'd--"Why how now, Micio?

Why do you ruin this young lad of ours?

Why does he wench? why drink? and why do you Allow him money to afford all this?

You let him dress too fine. 'Tis idle in you."

--'Tis hard in him, unjust and out of reason.

And he, I think, deceives himself indeed, Who fancies that authority more firm Founded on force, than what is built on friends.h.i.+p; For thus I reason, thus persuade myself: He who performs his duty driven to't By fear of punishment, while he believes His actions are observ'd, so long he's wary; But if he hopes for secrecy, returns To his own ways again: But he whom kindness, Him also inclination makes your own: He burns to make a due return, and acts, Present or absent, evermore the same.

'Tis this then is the duty of a father, To make a son embrace a life of virtue, Rather from choice than terror or constraint.

Here lies the mighty difference between A father and a master. He who knows not How to do this, let him confess he knows not How to rule children.--But is this the man Whom I was speaking of? Yes, yes, 'tis he.

He seems uneasy too, I know not why, And I suppose, as usual, comes to wrangle.

[Changes:

_quotation marks at mid-speech supplied from 1768 edition_

_Harper_ [beginning of speech, through line --G.o.ds, that a man ...]

_Colman 1768_ Ho, Storax!--No reply?--Then Aeschinus Never return'd, it seems, last night from supper; Nor any of the slaves, who went to meet him.

--'Tis commonly--and oh how truly!--said, If you are absent, or delay, 'twere best That should befall you, which your wife declares Or which in anger she supposes of you Than that which kindest parents fear.--Your wife, If you delay, suspects that you're engag'd In some intrigue, debauch, or entertainment; Consulting your own happiness abroad, While she, poor soul! is left to pine at home.

But what a world of fears possess me now!

How many ills I figure to myself, As causes that my son is not return'd!

Lest he have taken cold, or had a fall, Or broke a limb!--Good heavens! that a man Shou'd doat so much, or suffer any one]

SCENE II.

_Enter DEMEA._

MICIO. Demea, I'm glad to see you well.

DEMEA. Oho!

Well met: the very man I came to seek.

MICIO. But you appear uneasy: What's the matter?

DEMEA. Is it a question, when there's aeschinus To trouble us, what makes me so uneasy?

MICIO. I said it would be so.--What has he done?

DEMEA. What has he done? a wretch, whom neither ties Of shame, nor fear, nor any law can bind!

For not to speak of all his former pranks, What has he been about but even now!

MICIO. What has he done?

DEMEA. Burst open doors, and forc'd His way into another's house, and beat The master and his family half dead; And carried off a wench whom he was fond of.

The whole town cries out shame upon him, Micio.

I have been told of it a hundred times Since my arrival. 'Tis the common talk.---- And if we needs must draw comparisons, Does not he see his brother thrifty, sober, Attentive to his business in the country?

Not given to these practices; and when I say all this to him, to you I say it.

You are his ruin, Micio.

MICIO. How unjust Is he who wants experience! who believes Nothing is right but what he does himself!

DEMEA. Why d'ye say that?

MICIO. Because you, Demea, Judge wrongly of these matters. 'Tis no crime For a young man to wench or drink.--'Tis not, Believe me!--nor to force doors open.--This, If neither you nor I have done, it was That poverty allow'd us not. And now You claim a merit to yourself, from that Which want constrain'd you to. It is not fair.

For had there been but wherewithal to do't, We likewise should have done thus. Wherefore you, Were you a man, would let your younger son, Now, while it suits his age, pursue his pleasures; Rather than, when it less becomes his years, When, after wis.h.i.+ng long, he shall at last Be rid of you, he should run riot then.

DEMEA. Oh Jupiter! the man will drive me mad.

Is it no crime, d'ye say, for a young man To take these courses?

MICIO. Nay, nay; do but hear me, Nor stun me with the self-same thing forever!

Your elder son you gave me for adoption: He's mine, then, Demea; and if he offends, 'Tis an offense to me, and I must bear The burden. Does he treat? or drink? or dress?

'Tis at my cost.--Or wench? I will supply him, While 'tis convenient to me; when 'tis not, His mistresses perhaps will shut him out.

--Has he broke open doors? we'll make them good.

Or torn a coat? it shall be mended. I, Thank Heaven, have enough to do all this, And 'tis as yet not irksome.--In a word, Or cease, or choose some arbiter between us: I'll prove that you are more in fault than I.

DEMEA. Ah, learn to be a father; learn from those Who know what 'tis to be indeed a parent!

MICIO. By nature you're his father, I by counsel.

DEMEA. You! do you counsel any thing?

MICIO. Nay, nay; If you persist, I'm gone.

DEMEA. Is't thus you treat me?

MICIO. Must I still hear the same thing o'er and o'er?

DEMEA. It touches me.

MICIO. And me it touches too.