Heautontimorumenos; or, The Self-Tormenter

Tell me, please, what you think of it.

Extremely good, I declare.

Why yes, pretty fair. But listen, what a piece of policy still remains. He is then to say that he has seen your daughter—that her beauty charmed him as soon as he beheld her; and that he desires her for a wife.

What, her that has just been discovered ?

The same;

and, in fact, he’ll request that she may be asked for.

For what purpose, Syrus? For I don’t altogether comprehend it.

O dear, you are so dull.

Perhaps so.

Money will be given him for the wedding—with which golden trinkets and clothes—do you understand me?

To buy them—?

Just so.

But I neither give nor betroth my daughter to him.

But why?

Why, do you ask me? To a fellow—

Just as you please. I don’t mean that in reality you should give her to him, but that you should pretend it.

Pretending is not in my way; do you mix up these plots of yours, so as not to mix me up in them. Do you think that I’ll betroth my daughter to a person to whom I will not marry her?

I imagined so.

By no means.

It might have been cleverly managed; and I under-took this affair for the very reason, that a short time since you so urgently requested it.

I believe you.

But for my part, Chremes, I take it well and good, either way.

But still, I especially wish you to do your best for it to be brought about; but in some other way.

It shall be done: some other method must be thought of; but as to what I was telling you of,—about the money which she owes to Bacchis,—that must now be repaid her. And you will not, of course, now be having recourse to this method; What have I to do with it? Was it lent to me? Did I give any orders? Had she the power to pawn my daughter

without my consent? They quote that saying, Chremes, with good reason, Riorous law is often rigorous injustice.

I will not do so.

On the contrary, though others were at liberty, you are not at liberty; all think that you are in good and very easy circumstances.

Nay rather, I’ll at once carry it to her myself.

Why no; request your son in preference.

For what reason?

Why, because the suspicion of being in love with her has been transferred to him with Menedemus.

What then?

Because it will seem to be more like probability when he gives it her; and at the same time I shall effect more easily what I wish. Here he comes too; go, and bring out the money.

I’ll bring it.

There is nothing so easy but that it becomes difficult when you do it with reluctance. As this walk of mine, for instance, though not fatiguing, it has reduced me to weariness. And now I dread nothing more than that I should be packed off somewhere hence once again, that I may not have access to Bacchis.

May then all the Gods and Goddesses, as many as exist, confound you, Syrus, with these stratagems and plots of yours. You are always devising something of this kind, by means of which to torture me.

Will you not away with you—to where you deserve? How nearly had your forwardness proved my ruin!

Upon my faith, I wish it had been so; just what you deserve.

Deserve? How so? Really, I’m glad that I’ve heard this from you before you had the money which I was just going to give you.

What then would you have me to say to you? You’ve made a fool of me; brought my mistress hither, whom I’m not allowed to touch—

Well, I’m not angry then. But do you know where Bacchis is just now?

At our house.

No.

Where then?

At Clinia’s.

I’m ruined!

Be of good heart; you shall presently carry to her the money that you promised her.

You do prate away.—Where from?

From your own father.

Perhaps you are joking with me.

The thing itself will prove it.

Indeed, then, I am a lucky man. Syrus, I do love you from my heart.

But your father’s coming out. Take care not to express surprise at any thing, for what reason it is done; give way at the proper moment; do what he orders, and say but little.

Where’s Clitipho now?

Say—here I am.

Here am I.

Have you told him how it is?

I’ve told him pretty well every thing.

Take this money, and carry it.

Go—why do you stand still, you stone; why don’t you take it?

Very well, give it me.

Follow me this way directly. (To CHREMES.) You in the mean while will wait here for us till we return; for there’s no occasion for us to stay there long.

My daughter, in fact, has now had ten minae from me, which I consider as paid for her board; another ten will follow these for clothes; and then she will require two talents for her portion. How many things, both just and unjust, are sanctioned by custom!

Now I’m obliged, neglecting my business, to look out for some one on whom to bestow my property, that has been acquired by my labor.

My son, I now think myself the happiest of all men, since I find that you have returned to a rational mode of life.

How much he is mistaken!

Chremes, you are the very person I wanted;

preserve, so far as in you lies, my son, myself, and my family.

Tell me what you would have me do.

You have this day found a daughter.

What then?

Clinia wishes her to be given him for a wife.

Prithee, what kind of a person are you?

Why?

Have you already forgotten what passed between us, concerning a scheme,

that by that method some money might be got out of you?

I remember.

That self-same thing they are now about.

What do you tell me, Chremes? Why surely, this Courtesan, who is at my house, is Clitipho’s mistress.

So they say, and you believe it all; and they say that he is desirous of a wife, in order that, when I have betrothed her,

you may give him money, with which to provide gold trinkets and clothing, and other things that are requisite.

That is it, no doubt; that money will be given to his mistress.

Of course it is to be given.

Alas! in vain then, unhappy man, have I been overjoyed; still however, I had rather any thing than be deprived of him. What answer now shall I report from you, Chremes,

so that he may not perceive that I have found it out, and take it to heart?

To heart, indeed! you are too indulgent to him, Menedemus.

Let me go on; I have now begun: assist me in this throughout, Chremes.

Say then, that you have seen me, and have treated about the marriage.

I’ll say so—what then?

That I will do every thing;

that as a son-in-law he meets my approbation; in fine, too, if you like, tell him also that she has been promised him.

Well, that’s what I wanted—

That he may the sooner ask of you, and you may as soon as possible give him what you wish.

It is my wish.

Assuredly, before very long, according as I view this matter, you’ll have enough of him.

But, however that may be, if you are wise, you’ll give to him cautiously, and a little at a time.

I’ll do so.

Go in-doors and see how much he requires. I shall be at home, if you should want me for any thing.

I certainly do want you; for I shall let you know whatever I do.

I am quite aware that I am not so overwise, or so very quick-sighted;