The Comedies of Terence Part 83

SYRUS. Away! (_Pushes him off._)

DEM. What's this he says of Ctesipho?

SYRUS. Pshaw! nothing.

DEM. How! dog, is Ctesipho within?

SYRUS. Not he.

DEM. Why does he name him then?

SYRUS. It is another.

Of the same name--a little parasite---- D'ye know him?

DEM. But I will immediately. (_Going._)

SYRUS. (_stopping him_). What now? where now?

{_DEMEA and SYRUS struggling._}

DEM. Let me alone.

SYRUS. Don't go!

DEM. Hands off! what won't you? must I brain you, rascal?

(_Disengages himself from SYRUS, and Exit._

SCENE XIII.

_SYRUS alone._

He's gone--gone in--and faith no welcome roarer---- --Especially to Ctesipho.--But what Can I do now; unless, till this blows over, I sneak into some corner, and sleep off This wine that lies upon my head?--I'll do't.

(_Exit reeling._

SCENE XIV.

_Enter MICIO from SOSTRATA._

MICIO. (_to SOSTRATA within_).

All is prepar'd: and we are ready, Sostrata, As I have already told you, when you please. (_Comes forward._) But who's this forces open our street door With so much violence?

_Enter DEMEA on t'other side._

DEM. Confusion! death!

What shall I do? or how resolve? where vent My cries and exclamations? Heav'n! Earth! Sea!

MICIO (_behind._) So! all's discover'd: that's the thing he raves at.

--Now for a quarrel!--I must help the boy.

DEM. (_seeing him._) Oh, there's the grand corrupter of our children!

MICIO. Appease your wrath, and be yourself again!

DEM. Well, I've appeas'd it; I'm myself again; I spare reproaches; let us to the point!

It was agreed between us, and it was Your own proposal too, that you should never Concern yourself with Ctesipho, nor I With aeschinus. Say, was't not so?

MICIO. It was.

I don't deny it.

DEM. Why does Ctesipho Revel with you then? Why do you receive him?

Buy him a mistress, Micio?--Is not justice My due from you, as well as yours from me?

Since I do not concern myself with yours, Meddle not you with mine!

MICIO. This is not fair; Indeed it is not. Think on the old saying, "All things are common among friends."

DEM. How smart!

Put off with quips and sentences at last!

MICIO. Nay, hear me, if you can have patience, Demea.

--First, if you're griev'd at their extravagance, Let this reflection calm you! Formerly, You bred them both according to your fortune, Supposing it sufficient for them both: Then too you thought that I should take a wife.

Still follow the old rule you then laid down: h.o.a.rd, sc.r.a.pe, and save; do ev'ry thing you can To leave them n.o.bly! Be that glory yours.

My fortune, fall'n beyond their hopes upon them, Let them use freely! As your capital Will not be wasted, what addition comes From mine, consider as clear gain: and thus, Weighing all this impartially, you'll spare Yourself, and me, and them, a world of trouble.

DEM. Money is not the thing: their morals----

MICIO. Hold!

I understand; and meant to speak of that.

There are in nature sundry marks, good Demea, By which you may conjecture easily, That when two persons do the self-same thing, It oftentimes falls out that in the one 'Tis criminal, in t'other 'tis not so: Not that the thing itself is different, But he who does it.--In these youths I see The marks of virtue; and, I trust, they'll prove Such as we wish them. They have sense, I know; Attention; in its season, liberal shame; And fondness for each other; all sure signs Of an ingenuous mind and n.o.ble nature: And though they stray, you may at any time Reclaim them.--But perhaps you fear they'll prove Too inattentive to their interest.

Oh my dear Demea, in all matters else Increase of years increases wisdom in us: This only vice age brings along with it; "We're all more worldly-minded than there's need:"

Which pa.s.sion age, that kills all pa.s.sions else, Will ripen in your sons too.

DEM. Have a care That these fine arguments and this great mildness Don't prove the ruin of us, Micio.

MICIO. Peace!

It shall not be: away with all your fears!

This day be rul'd by me: come, smooth your brow.

DEM. Well, since at present things are so, I must, But then I'll to the country with my son To-morrow, at first peep of day.

MICIO. At midnight, So you'll but smile to-day.

DEM. And that wench too I'll drag away with me.

MICIO. Aye; there you've hit it.

For by that means you'll keep your son at home; Do but secure her.

DEM. I'll see that: for there I'll put her in the kitchen and the mill, And make her full of ashes, smoke, and meal: Nay at high noon too she shall gather stubble.