# Comedies of Publius Terentius Afer (1870)/Andria/Act I

Layout 2
ANDRIA.
ACT I.
Scene 1.—Simo—Sosia—Davus (with provisions).
Sim. Here you, take these within; stay, Sosia, stay, A word with you.
Sos. About the cookery No doubt.
Sim. Nay, it is something else.
Sos. Whatever It may be, I'll do my best.
Sim. It is not Your active but your passive operation That now I need; silence and secrecy; Virtues I ever noted strong in you.
Sos. I am all attention.
Sim. Since I purchased you, A little child, I have been just to you, And clement in your servitude to me. You served me well and I affranchised you; So I repaid your service with the best Return that I could make you.
Sos. Which I hold In grateful recollection.
Sim. Nor do I Repent your manumission.
​Sos. I am glad; And that my service is commendable, I am grateful also, Simo; but my ear Is frightened more than flattered by this speech. Wherefore remind me of these benefits, Unless it be to blame forgetfulness? Then tell me in one word your present will.
Sim. I will do so; but first I must inform you The nuptials which we feign to celebrate Are but fictitious.
Sos. Wherefore do you feign them?
Sim. Hear, then, from first to last, and by that means Learn my son's life, and what I now design. When Pamphilus was adolescent, Sosia, I gave him licence more than, perhaps, I ought; But so I learnt his true propensities. Unchecked by fear or magisterial hand, He then betrayed his bent.
Sos. Ah! that is so.
Sim. Boys usually have passions and desires, Hugging some special pastime to their arms As dogs and horses—or philosophy. For him—he follows with sobriety All things with prudence, so delighting me.
Sos. And good; to my mind there is nought in life Superior to the ail age that, "Enough Equals a feast."
Sim. This was his course of life: Urbane unto his fellows—subjecting His will to theirs, his pleasures unto theirs, Opposing none; it following, of course, He gained their praises and he made them friends.
​Sos. It is a good commencement; for to-day, Deceit wins friendship and truth enemies.
Sim. Some three years since a certain woman came Hither from Andros, and here made abode. Want and neglect of relatives coerced Her to that step—she—young and beautiful—
Sos. I fear this Andrian woman brings ill luck.
Sim. Modest and prudent at the first, and gained By toil a pittance by the wool and loom. When lovers came, their purses in their hands, With her as with the rest of human kind, Whose tendencies are prone to luxury, Hostile to toil—she unsupported fell— At first submissive but to one or two, And then she opened house to visitors: Among the rest, by others led, my son. Then said I to myself—behold him caught; Then I waylaid their servants, and I asked, Holloa, my lad—tell me which one possessed Chrysis, for so she called herself, last night?
Sos. What said they?
Sim. They replied—or Phædrus, Clinias, or Niceratus; for these three Made court alike to her! Ahah! quoth I, "And Pamphilus, what doth he there?" "Eh, what? He sups and pays his shot." I was rejoiced, For still it held the same—no Pamphilus. And I thought him a proof—and an example Of wisdom in a youth, one firm enough To mingle in the world and in its ways, And not to trip—to such a one we may Resign the bit and let him have his fling; ​And all the world would praise me open-mouthed, Because I had a son of such good sense. And so it followed. Chremes hears his praise, And straightway comes to offer me his child, His only child—with an enormous dowry— As wife to Pamphilus. I was well pleased, Accepted—and the nuptials fall to-day.
Sos. Why, then, delay them in reality?
Sim. For this—our neighbour Chrysis died.
Sos. I breathe again—I was in mortal fear Of that same Chrysis.
Sim. And when she was dead My son—and all her other clientage— Performed the funeral rites. I marked him sad, I saw him weep—and I rejoiced and thought If he grieve thus for one who is a stranger, How would he grieve for one allied to him, How weep for me his father—they were signs To me of an ingenuous human soul, And so to end my tale, to please my son, Neither suspecting evil—I resolved That I would join her funeral rites myself.
Sos. What followed then?
Sim. All in good time. They brought Her body forth, we went. Amidst the women That followed there—there was a girl—a girl Of most exceeding beauty—
Sos. Ah! no doubt!
Sim. Face, Sosia, and demeanour, exquisite, Modest, in deep affliction. Marking her I asked the other women in the train Her name, and learnt she sister was to Chrysis. ​My mind misgave: attat, if that is so Hence, hence our tears; hence, hence our misery.
Sos. I dread the sequel.
Sim. So the train proceeded. We followed to the tomb—they placed the corpse, Upon the pyre, and they raised the lament. The sister then incautiously approached The blazing pile, and doubtless was in peril. Then Pamphilus betrayed the secret fire, Hidden before, he sprung forth—caught the girl About the waist, exclaimed, Glycerium, Wherefore is this—why would you slay yourself? And it was evident that burst of love Was not the first which had ta'en place between them; She flung herself on him familiarly.
Sos. What did you say?
Sim. Irate, with some ado, I choked my anger, for of no avail Had been reproaches then. He would have answered— What have I done, my father? I have saved A woman who had leapt into the flames. To outward sight, it was so—and was right.
Sos. Truly, for if you objurgate a man For saving life, what could you do to one Devising evils and committing wrongs?
Sim. And the next day came Chremes unto me, Indignantly declaring Pamphilus Was wedded to this stranger. I denied it— Said, there was no such thing; which reaverred By him—I straightway came away and left Him, in no mood to give to us a daughter.
Sos. Where is your son?
​Sim. I do not think as yet Proof is sufficient, to attack my son.
Sos. Why not, I pray you?
Sim. For he will retort. Father, you set a bourn to my pursuits, And soon compel me to submit to others— Let me, I pray you, live in the mean time.
Sos. What will be then sufficient cause of plaint?
Sim. If he through love of her refuse to wed, That is an injury I may avenge. I lay a trap to catch him, by false nuptials Catching a true refusal; whereupon I reason have to act. At the same time I catch that cursed Davus, who will show His store of tricks and wiles, which will not lack; He will lay hand and foot to work to cheat. He better loves, methinks, to trouble me Than to assist my son.
Sos. Why so?
Sim. Dost ask! "Bad mind, bad spirit;" but if I perceive— Cease this discourse, for if he prove to me Obedient, nor asks delay—then Chremes May be brought round again, on due petition. That which we now must do—to make appear These spousals to be real: knock Davus down— Keep eye upon my son, and mark what they Will machinate together.
Sos. Enough, I will take heed, Let us go in.
Sim. Go on, I follow you.
ACT I.—Scene 2.—Simo—Davus.
Sim. I do not doubt but that be will refuse, I noticed Davus give a quail, when I Spoke of the marriage. He comes out of doors.
Dav. I cannot make it out; what is on foot, That master ever lenient intends: Who ever since be knew Chremes will not Bestow bis daughter here, has held his tongue, Nor shows a bit of grief.
Sim. But now who means To do so, and to make you know it too.
Dav. It seems to me he laps us in false joy, Puts us to sleep with much security, To swoop upon us, and at unawares Enforce this marriage.
Sim. Hark to that carnifex.
Dav. He, there; I saw him not.
Sim. Davus.
Dav. How now? Who calls?
Sim. Come here.
Dav. Master, how now?
Sim. How now!
Dav. I mean what matter.
Sim. What matter? the whole town Declares my son to be in love.
Dav. [Aside.] The town Cares little about that.
Sim. Say, do you hear Or not?
​Dav. I hear, I hear.
Sim. It is not right— That I, his father now, should ferret this: Nothing he has yet done affecting me. I suffered all this nonsense in due season, And let him have his fling. Now, otherwise The time demands a change of life and manners, And therefore I demand—that is—I pray Thee, Davè, that he march in beaten track.
Dav. What does this signify?
Sim. All boys who love Kick against marriage.
Dav. Ay, ay—so they say.
Sim. If then it hap some evil counsellor Lure him astray—for evil counsellors There are, and prompt to lead the love-sick wrong.
Dav. Hercle! I understand not.
Sim . Of course not!
Dav. Davus I am, not Œdipus.
Sim. Do you mean You wish me to speak out the rest in words?
Dav. I do, assuredly.
Sim. Then hear my words— If I catch you, in matter of these nuptials Devising treachery—in opposition— Or showing off your knavery—you shall have A thousand stripes and then off to the mill For life, I say—and swear that if I spare you I'll take your place and grind—do you understand Or do you need further enlightenment?
Dav. Nay, none; you have explained, indeed, the whole With singular intelligence and clearness.
​Sim. Do you employ your own intelligence Of craftiness upon some other subject.
Dav. Kind words, I pray you, master.
Sim. Ah, you jeer, I know you well: now don't be obstinate, Nor say I did not warn you: eh, beware.
ACT I.—Scene 3.—Davus.
Dav. From what I see, my Davus, it is time To wake and look about—from what I see About the sentiments of this old man This marriage threatens ruin to my master, As well as unto me. Now, bother it, I can't see whether I had better aid My master Pamphilus, or master father. If I leave Pamphilus the boy will die, And if I leave him not, my back must smart. I cannot see my way, Simo knows all, And has his eyes on me, and watches me Lest I should play a trick, and if he spy me Devising one—off am I to the mill— And to that am I tending otherwise. This Andrian, whether wife or whether may, Is heavy now by Pamphilus—and they Outrageous are in wild audacity— Madness, not gladness, better tells their state They mean to rear the child, or boy or girl, And feign a likely story—that she is An Attican—a citizen of Athens. There was a certain merchant—who they say ​Was wrecked on Andros, and that there he died. The father of this Chrysis took the child Orphan'd and wrecked, an infant—'tis absurd! To me it seems a most unlikely tale, To them it seems most cleverly devised. Here Mysis comes forth from her—I will hence Unto the Forum to find Pamphilus, And warn him of these matters going on.
ACT I.—Scene 4.—Mysis—Archillis.
Mys. Nonsense, Archillis, what you talk about; What! Lesbia? Pol, a woman wine-bibber, And rash withal—and to commit to her The management in this—a first-born's birth! And must I bring her home? Behold you now The trickery of these—contipplers both. Gods grant unto my mistress a good time; If they must blunder let it be elsewhere. Eh! what's the matter now with Pamphilus? I fear what it may be, must stop and know, I fear he brings us tidings of some woe.
ACT I.—Scene 5.—Pamphilus—Mysis.
Pam. Now, is this human—this vile enterprise? Say, is this deed paternal?
Mys. What is what?
Pam. O faith of gods and man! What is, I say, A vile indignity, if this be not— To marry me to-day, nor think it meet To ask me, or communicate the fact.
​Mys. Unhappy me, what tidings do I hear?
Pam. And Chremes, who withdrew his word, nor would Grant unto me his daughter. Say has he Turned round because I am unsuitable? And is he thus obdurate, to enforce My separation with Glycerium? If so, I am undone—past remedy. Was ever man, I ask, so crossed in love, Unhappy and unfortunate as I? O faith of gods and man! Is there no mode By which I can avoid—escape this tie. Cursèd alliance. And myself contemned, Despised, and unconsulted, find it all A settled thing. Zounds! And am sent for—why? Now, by my soul! I think she is deformed, And no one else will have her; therefore, therefore, They come to me.
Mys. I am frightened of my life.
Pam. My father also—that he should transact Affairs of so much moment heedlessly. He met me in the Forum, and he said, To-day we marry you, my Pamphilus! Hurry you home. Hurry to hang yourself, Methought he said to me. I stood aghast, Without the gift of speech; nor could reply With reason good nor bad: dumbfounded quite. Now, had I but foreknown, and been prepared, And had my reasons and objections ready; But now I do not know what I can do, For cares beset me, harrowing my soul. Love, pity, detestation, duty to My father, whom I love, and hitherto ​Evermore lenient. I am beset with doubts, Nor do I know which way to turn myself.
Mys. Nor do I know which way to turn myself. I must address him, must speak of my mistress, If he do not ask first. When the mind doubts And vacillates, a pin may turn the scale.
Pam. Who speaks? Ah, Mysis, salvè.
Mys. Salvè, master.
Pam. How goes it?
Mys. Dost thou ask? She is in labour, And in distress of mind—for, as she bears, They marry you to-day unto another, And she in fear that you abandon her.
Pam. How can she fear so? Can she think that I Would suffer she should suffer misery. She who has given all to me—herself, Her soul, loved me exceedingly—my wife. She, nurtured in the gentlest fantasy, As modest as well educated—she To suffer want, to bear indignity, By my soul, never!
Mys. If upon you alone The thing depended—but you must oppose Coercion.
Pam. Am I a beast—inhuman, Ungrateful, barbarous—that fond possession, Love, honour, all things binding to the soul Should let me break my faith?
Mys. And one thing more, Her worth and merit you should not forget.
Pam. Forget her worth and merit—Mysis, Mysis, I have engraven on my very heart ​The words of Chrysis on Glycerium. She called me to her side, ourselves alone, Glycerium and me. My Pamphilus, she said, You see her youth and comeliness, you know The snares which will beset them with the cash I leave to her. By your right hand, I pray, And by your good faith and integrity— Never desert her, nor live separate. If like a brother I have ever loved you, If you by her adored have been alone, If I upon my death-bed trust in thee, Be unto her a husband, friend, and father: My worldly goods do I bequeath to you Assured of your good faith. And then she put Our hands in one another. So she died. The faith I gave to her, I mean to keep.
Mys. Gods grant it so.
Pam. Why did you come away?
Mys. I seek the midwife.
Pam. Hurry then, I pray. And, Mysis, on your life, no word of marriage To trouble and perplex her.
Mys. Fear you not.