PR 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR4161.B6F2 1894 
 
 The feast of Bacchus; a comedy in the Lat 
 
 3 1924 013 439 132 
 
^^ 
 
 Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013439132 
 
^0. bij. ^zmi oi 
 
THE FEAST 
 
 OF BACCHUS 
 
 ' A COMEDY IN THE LATIN MANNER 
 
 AND PARTLY TRANSLATED FROM TERENCE 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT BRIDGES. 
 
 Published by George Bell & Sons, Covent Garden, 
 and J. & E. Bumpus, Lim., Holborn Bars. 
 
 VS) Ft 
 
P\1(pX1 6> : 
 
 THE FEAST OF BACCHUS. 
 
 DRAMPERS 
 
 MkNEDEMUS 
 CHREMES 
 
 CLINIA 
 
 PAMPHILUS... 
 PHILOLACHES 
 
 SOS TR AT A ... 
 ANTIPHILA ... 
 GORGO 
 
 ... An A then ian gentleman. 
 
 ... A retired Ionian sponge-merchant. 
 
 Son to Menedemus. 
 ... Son to Chremes. 
 An actor, friend to Pamphilus. 
 
 ... Wife to Chremes. 
 
 ... Daughter of Chremes, beloved of Clinia. 
 Beloved of Pamphilus. 
 
 The scene is in a suburb of Alliens, opposite the house of Chremes {IS) : On the 
 other side is Menedemus garden [K) : this occupies most of the back of the 
 stage : a gate from the garden gives on the stage : between the garden and 
 Chremes^ house a road runs down to the city. 
 
 Duration of titne — nearly the same as in acting. There is no pause in the action, 
 and the whole may be played continuously with a formal break at the end of 
 each act. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Menedemus seen at luork in his garden. Chremes calling to him over the hedge, 
 
 CHREMES. 
 OOD morning sir! good morning! {aside). He does not hear me. — Sir! 
 Good morning,! (aside). No : he goes on digging away for his hfe — 
 Ho ! Menedemus ! Ho ! 
 MEN. Who is it calls? 
 
 CHR. 'Tis I. 
 
 MEN. Chremes ! why, what's the matter? 
 CHR. I only said good morning. 
 
 I wish you the compliments of the day. 'Tis the feast of Bacchus. 
 MEN. I thank you. The same to you. 
 CHR. I had something to say besides, 
 
 If you are at leisure. 
 MEN. Now ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, now. 
 
Act I.] 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 185 
 
 I. I 
 
 36—40 
 
 MEN. You see I am busy : 
 
 But if 'tis a matter of any importance — 
 
 CHR. Indeed it is. 
 
 MEN. Pray step to the gate : I'll open for you. 
 
 CSR. You are very good. 
 
 {aside). How fagged he looks ! 
 MEN. Come in. You will not think me rude, 
 
 If I ask you to tell your errand while I dig. 
 
 CHR. Excuse me, 
 
 My good friend, and your spade, pray you, awhile put down. 
 You must stop working. 
 MEN. No : I cannot_rest a minute. 
 
 CHR. I can't allow it indeed. {taking the spade.) 
 
 MEN. Now, sir, you wrong me. 
 
 CHR. Hey ! 
 
 My word ! what a weight it is ! 
 MEN. It's not too heavy for me. 
 
 CHR. Come ! what's all this? well take- it again, but don't refuse me 
 A moment's attention. 
 
 MEN. Well ! 
 
 CHR. 'Tis a matter concerns you nearly : 
 
 So leave your work, and come outside, and sit on the bench, 
 Where we may talk. 
 MEN. Whatever you have to say, Chremes, 
 
 May be said here. 
 
 CHR. No doubt, but better as I propose : 
 
 I will not detain you long. 
 
 MEN. What is it? 
 
 CHR. '' Sit you down. 
 
 MEN. You have something to say. 
 
 CHR. Not while you stand. 
 
 MEN. {sitting). Well, as you will. 
 
 And now in as few words as may be. — I am at your service.— 
 Explain. 
 
 CHR. Menedemus, although our acquaintance has been but short, 
 
 And only dates from the day you bought this piece of land. 
 And came to live close by me : for little or nought but that 
 Occasioned it, as you know : yet my respect for you. 
 Or else your being a neighbour, for that itself, I take it, 
 Counts in some sort as friendship, makes me bold and free 
 To give you a, piece of advice : the fact is, you seem to me 
 To be working here in a manner, which both to your time of life 
 And station, is most unsuitable. What, in Heaven's name. 
 Can be your object? what do you drive at? To guess your age 
 You are sixty years at least. There's no one hereabouts 
 Can shew a better farm, nor more servants upon it : 
 And yet you do the work yourself, as though you had none. 
 Never do I go out, however early in the morning. 
 Never come home again, however late at night. 
 But here I see you digging, hoeing, or at all events 
 Toiling at something or other. You are never a moment idle. 
 Nor shew regard for yourself. Now all this can't be done 
 For pleasure, that I am sure of, and as for any profit. 
 Why if you only applied half the energy 
 
 I. I 
 1-36 
 
i86 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 CHR., 
 
 MEN. 
 
 CHR. 
 MEN. 
 
 CHR. 
 
 MEN. 
 CHR. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 CHR. 
 MEN. 
 
 CHR. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 CHR. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 To stirring up your servants, both you and your farm 
 Would do much better. 
 
 Have you so much spare time then, Chremes, 
 Left from your own affairs to meddle with other people's? 
 The which moreover do not concern you. 
 
 I am a man. 
 Nought which concerns mankind concerns not me, I think. 
 Ere I advise, I'd first enquire what 'tis you do ; 
 If well, to learn by example ; if ill, then to dissuade. 
 My duty is this : do you as best may suit yourself. 
 What man can say 'tis right for him to torment himself? 
 I can. 
 
 If it is any sorrow or trouble that has driven you to this, 
 I am very sorry. But . . . what is it? Tell me, I pray. 
 Whatever can you have done, that calls for such a penance? 
 Ay me ! 
 
 Come don't give way : confide to me this affair. 
 Trust me : keep nothing back, I entreat you : have no fear. 
 Surely I may either help, or advise, or at least console you. 
 You really wish to know? 
 
 Yes, for the reason I gave. 
 I'll tell you. 
 
 What is it? 
 
 I have an only son, Chremes — ■ 
 Alas what say I ? have ? had I should rather say ; 
 For whether now I have or not, I cannot tell. 
 How so? 
 
 You shall hear : attend. There came to live in the city 
 A poor old widow woman from Corinth. She had a daughter, 
 With whom my son, who is just of age, fell madly in love. 
 Was even at the point to marry : and all without my knowledge. 
 However it came to my ears ; and then I began to treat him 
 Unkindly, and not in the way to deal with a love-sick lad ; 
 But after the usual dictatorial manner of fathers. 
 I never left him in peace. Don't think, my fine fellow, 
 I'd say, that you'll be allowed to continue behaving thus, 
 WTiile T am alive to prevent it ; running after a girl 
 And talking of marrying too : you are very much mistaken, 
 Clinia, if you think that. You don't know me. I am glad 
 To have you called niy son, while you respect^ your honour ; 
 But if you once forget it, I shall find a means. 
 And one you will not like, of asserting my own. All this 
 I see very plainly, I said, has come from idle habits. 
 You have not enough to do. When I was your age 
 I did not fritter away my time in making love ; 
 But finding my pockets empty, set out for Asia, 
 And won myself distinction and fortune in foreign service. 
 At last, Chremes, it came to this : the poor young fellow, 
 Continually hearing the same thing put so strongly to him. 
 Gave in : he thought my age and due regard for his welfare 
 Were likely to shew him a wiser and more prudent course 
 Than his own feelings ; — he left the country, and went to fight 
 Under the king of Persia. 
 
 41 — lo6 
 
Act I.] 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 187 
 
 (See note 
 2 at end of 
 play.) 
 
 CHU. Indeed? 
 
 MEN. He started off 
 
 One day without a word. He has now been gone six months. 
 
 CHR. Both were to blame ; however I thinlc the step that he took 
 Was the act of a modest and not unmanly disposition. 
 
 MEN. I enquired of some of his friends, and wlien I learnt the truth, 
 I returned home to my house miserable, my mind 
 Unhinged — distracted with grief. I sat me down ; my servants 
 Came running to know my pleasure ; some drew off my shoes, 
 Others were hastening to and fro to prepare my dinner, 
 Each anxious by doing his best to lessen the pain 
 Of my great misfortune : in vain : the sight of them made me think, 
 ' ' What ! is it then for me alone that all these persons 
 So busily are engaged ? all for my comfort ? 
 For me is it that so many women are spinning ; for me 
 This great household expense and luxury are maintained? 
 And my only son, who in all should equally share with me^ 
 Nay should have the larger share, since at his age he is able 
 Better to use such things and enjoy them — him, poor boy, 
 I have driven out of the house by my unkindness. No, 
 I had rather die than do it. While he leads a life 
 Of poverty and of hardship, exiled from home and country 
 By my severe treatment, so long will I visit 
 His punishment on myself, labouring, fasting, saving. 
 Serving and slaving for him." I began there and then; 
 I stripped the house for a sale, left nothing in it, not a dish 
 To eat off, not ii coat to put on. I collected everything : 
 And as for the men and maids, excepting such as were able 
 To work the cost of their living out on my fields, I sent them 
 To market and sold them ; I put up a notice, THIS HOUSE TO LET ; 
 And setting the pricCL of all, some fifty talents, together, 
 I bought this farm, and am well convinced at heart, Chremes, 
 That in making myself miserable I act more justly 
 Towards him, my absent son j and that 'twere crime to indulge 
 In any comfort, till he return home safe again 
 To share it with me. 
 
 CHS. I see that you are a kind father ; 
 
 And he, I think, had been a dutiful son, if treated 
 With moderation and judgment : but look, you did not know 
 Each other well enough : a common fault to observe 
 In family life, and one destructive of happiness. 
 You never let him perceive how dear he was to you. 
 So he dared not confide in you, when it was his duty : 
 To have done the one or other had spared you this misfortune. 
 
 MEN. 'Tis as you say, I admit ; but I was the more to blame. 
 
 CHR. True. And to lose a child is deplorable. I had myself 
 
 The same misfortune without my fault. A daughter it was. 
 
 Stolen from me I know not how ; my second child, a babe. 
 
 That's fifteen years ago. I was living at Ephesus, 
 
 Where such events are regarded as commonish accidents. 
 
 I know not where she was taken, have never heard of her since ; 
 
 And though I have not forgot it, my own experience is, 
 
 One does entirely get over the sort of thing — I assure you. 
 
i88 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 MEN, 'Tis kind of you thus to recall your sorrow to comfort mine. 
 
 My condolence can make a distinction : the child you lost 
 
 Was a daughter, a babe, you say. Clinia was my only son, 
 
 Grown up. Besides you admit you were not at all to blame : 
 
 I brought this on myself. See, friend, the difference ! 
 CHR. However I see no reason yet to despair, Menedemus. 
 
 You will have him safe at home again, and soon, I am sure. 107 — 115 
 
 MEN. The gods grant it. 
 CHS. They will. And now, 'tis the feast of Bacchus ; 
 
 We keep a birthday too. I hope, if it is agreeable, 
 
 That you will come and dine at my house. 
 MEN. I can't. 
 
 CffR. Why not ? 
 
 Do pray now, after all you have done, allow yourself 
 
 This little relaxation. Think your absent son 
 
 Is asking you through me. 
 MEN. It is not right that I, 
 
 Who have driven him into hardships, should 'Spend my time in pleasures. 
 CffR. You will not change your mind? 
 MEN. No. 
 
 CHR. Then I'll say' good-bye. 
 
 MEN. Good-bye. 
 CHR. A tear, I do believe ; I am sorry for him. 
 
 'Tis lamentable to see goodness punished thus 
 
 For lack of a little wisdom. Folly brings remorse. 
 
 And again remorse folly : they tread the circle ; and he 
 
 Would mend one fault by another, and on himself revenge 
 
 •The wrong he has done his son. And that wrong too was not 
 
 A real unkindness : no : mere want of common sense ; 
 
 It's what I am always saying, — that is evil. To quote 
 
 From the very profoundest of authors, my favourite Sophocles, 
 
 Wisdom is far away the chief est of happiness. 
 
 Of course a man may be happy, although he has lost his son, 
 
 If it cannot be charged to his fault. In spite of the best intentions 
 
 Menedemus is much to blame. Poor fellow, but I may assist him, \ 
 
 And if I can, I will. I love to help a neighbour ; 
 
 'Tis pleasure as well as duty : because it is a pleasure 
 
 To be wiser than others, and even a friend's predicament 
 
 Increases the satisfaction I feel, when I think how well 
 
 My own household is managed. But stay, 'tis time I went 
 
 To see that all's in order for the feast we hold to-night. 
 
 There are one or two old friends, who'd take it much amiss 
 
 Did I not ask them. Now at once I'll go and find them. 
 
 \Exil. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Enter PAMPHILUS and CLINIA. 
 
 PAM. That queer old boy's my father: didn't you know him? 
 CLIN. No. 
 
 How should I? but his name I know — Chremes. 
 PAM. You have it. 
 
 Take care he hear not your name. 
 CLIN. Why so, Pamphilus? 
 
 What can he know of me ? and if he knew . . , 
 
Act 
 
 I.] The Feast of Bacchus. i 
 
 89 
 
 PAM. 
 
 See, Clinia, 
 That is our house, and here the hedge and paling bounds 
 Your father's. 
 
 
 CLIN. 
 
 Here ? 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 You see what a stroke of luck it was i'" 
 To meet me when you did. You must have betrayed yourself 
 By making enquiries; but I, at the merest hint have led you 
 Straight to the place : besides, if you wish to be near your father 
 Without his knowing that you are returned, my governor 
 Can put you up. 
 
 
 CLIN. 
 
 Is it here ? 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 Yes, there. 
 
 
 CLIN. 
 
 Forfheaven's sake 
 Be careful ; may he not see me ? 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 If he looked over the myrtles 
 No doubt he might. 
 
 
 CLIN. 
 
 Hush I hush 1 He'll hear you. 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 All serene. 
 He's not this side : stand there : I'll go and spy around. 
 Keep out of sight. 
 
 
 CLIN. 
 
 Stay, Pamphilus ; are you really sure 
 This is my father's? 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 This is the place they told me, and here i"" 
 A Menedemus lives, and has for the last six months. 
 We're right enough. 
 
 
 CLIN. 
 
 I -fear he'll see us : pray come back. 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 I thought you wished to see him. 
 
 
 CLIN. 
 
 Ay, and so I do ; 
 But nothing less in the world, if it should be the occasion 
 Of his seeing me. 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 Trust me : he won't. I'll speer about. 
 He's sure to be digging somewhere near. 
 
 
 CLIN. 
 
 Digging ? 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 If not. 
 It is not old Menedenius. (goes rouitd peering. ) 
 
 
 CLIN. 
 
 Oh what can it mean. 
 My father's sudden change of home and manner of life ? 
 He that so loved the town : himself the very centre 
 
 Of all good company, the best invited man, 2<"i 
 And most besought in Athens. Nothing but great disgust 
 Could thus have turned his temper. I am the cause : and one 
 Of two things it must be ; either he is more offended with me 
 Than I supposed; or else, and this I hope and think, 
 My flight, breaking the bond that surely was the nearest 
 And dearest to him, has wrought upon him, and now he turns 
 And will consent : if that, 'tis well I am here : if not. 
 He must not come to know I am back in Athens : nay, 
 'Twould only vex him more : I must hide from him still : 
 For though there is nothing in the extremest scope of duty 'i" 
 In which I would not obey him but one thing, 'tis this thing 
 I am pledged to. Love absolves me. Nay, tis not for him 
 I am now returned. I have chosen ; I am not ashamed : I made 
 One dutiful effort — oh intolerable ! I am come, 
 
 
190 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. [Act 
 
 I. 
 
 
 Sweetest Antiphila, to marry thee, and I will marry thee ; 
 
 
 
 Without consent, if must be, against my father's will — 
 
 
 
 Yet now I have hope; and whether rightly or wrongly I hope 
 
 
 
 I must discover. 
 
 
 
 (Pamphilus returns to Clinia.) 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 It's very funny : he's not to be seen. 
 
 
 CLIN. 
 
 What shall I do? 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 To-day's my birthday, Clinia : 
 We have asked some friends to come : if you will be my guest, ™ 
 Our house is very handy. No one shall hear your name. 
 My father will not suspect you. 
 
 
 CLIN. 
 
 I thank you. There's no need. 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 I'll call you Clitipho. 
 
 
 CLIN. 
 
 No, no, I am ill disposed 
 For company. Fray excuse me. Besides I am sure your father 
 Must be acquainted with mine. 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 I doubt it. He often says 
 He wonders who in the world his eccentric neighbour is. 
 But whether he knows or not we'll soon find out : for look, 
 He is coming down the road. Stand back where you can hear ; 
 And if he has any knowledge that can be of use to you, 
 I'll worm it out. 
 
 Enter CHREMES. 
 
 
 CHR, 
 
 What are you doing, Pamphilus, '"' 
 Looking over the hedge into our neighbour's garden? 
 Do you not know how vulgar curiosity 4s ? 
 Spying and prying thus into other folk's affairs. 
 I am quite ashamed of you, sir ! 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 I was only looking to see 
 If I could catch a. glimpse of old Menedemus, father. 
 I've found out something about him. 
 
 
 CUR. 
 
 Eh ! and what is that ? 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 Have you ever heard of Clinia ? 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 Clinia, Clinia? Yes— 
 Of course, why he's Menedemus' son, who is now in Persia. 
 I>.know about him. 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 Well, he's an old school-friend of mine. 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 Is he? 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 You know when first I came to school at Athens, '*" 
 He was kind to me, and afterwards, when we all came here to live, 
 I met him again. I never dreamed that 'twas his father, 
 Who took this place next door. I used to hear he was quite 
 A different sort of person. / 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 Ay, no doubt he was, 
 The trouble his son has brought upon him has broke him down. 
 
 
 PAM. 
 
 Why, Clinia had no debts. 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 Perhaps he had no debts : 
 But I could tell you more about him than you imagine. 
 I have never been able to take any pleasure, Pamphilus, 
 In any one of your friendships ; and now I am grieved to find 
 You are intimate with this foolish, dissolute young man. '"' 
 Evil communications corrupt good manners. 
 
 
Act I.] 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 191 
 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 
 PAM. 
 
 CHR. 
 
 PAM. 
 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 
 CHR. 
 
 PAM. 
 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 
 Clinia is not that sort at all. 
 
 You do not know, 
 I know he fell in love with a girl that lives in the town, 
 And wanted to marry her, only his father would not hear of it. 
 And sent him off to Asia, and now — 
 
 He ran away. 
 And if he did, no wonder, considering his, father's treatment. 
 He should not have done so. 
 
 I take it his father's sorry now. 
 Of course all parents are always sorry for their sons' misconduct. 
 But he has far; more cause to be sorry now for his own. 
 You think so? 
 
 Yes, I do. 
 {flside'\. I must not let my son 
 
 Know how this old man dotes. If he should think all fathers 
 As soft as poor Menedemus, pretty pranks he'd play me ! 
 What were you saying? 
 
 Ha ! I'll tell you what I was saying ; 
 That in any case his duty was to have stayed at home, 
 'Tis possible that his father was somewhat more severe 
 Than he found pleasant ; but still he should have put up with it. 
 For whom should a lad submit to, if not to his own father? 
 Ought his father, tell me, to have fallen in with him. 
 Or he with his father? And then what he is pleased to call 
 A hardship, was nothing of the kind : the so-called severities 
 Of fathers are much of a piece : the least strict do not like 
 To see their sons continually in bad company, 
 
 Continually drinking : and so they are sparing in what they allow them j 
 For such restrictions, remember, promote good morals. 
 But when a man's mind has once become the slave 
 Of evil passions, he is driven of necessity from bad to worse. 
 There's wisdom, Pamphilus, in the saying, By others' faults 
 Wise men correct their own. 
 
 I think so too. 
 
 Very well. 
 Then I need say no more. 
 
 Would not the old man, sir. 
 Be glad to see him back ? 
 
 He would be glad to see him 
 Return from his evil ways to a dutiful course of conduct. 
 I guess he'd let him marry the girl. 
 {aside"). What shall I say? 
 
 He would. 
 
 Nay Pampihilus: attend to me. No father 
 Would ever give in to his son in a matter of this kind. 
 Learn this lesson : see what shame your friend has brought 
 On his poor old father. No, 'twould never do to yield, 
 I can promise you too that he will not, I should not advise it myself. 
 You don't know Clinia, sir ; and have never seen the girl. 
 You go entirely by what this old Menedemus says. 
 He never saw her himselt 
 
 {aside). That's true. — And you have seen her? 
 I have. 
 
 I. 2 
 
 25—37 
 
192 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 CHR. And what is she like? 
 
 PAM. I never saw anything like her. 
 
 CHR. Come, what d'ye mean? 
 PAM. I tell you, I know now what she's like — 
 
 The statue that stands in the hall : the third on the left. 
 CHR. The Grace? 
 
 An elegant taste. 
 PAM. If you were to see her, you'd say the same. 
 
 CHR. Should I? Then just attend. I wish to help my neighbour. 
 If all were ready to lend their neighbours a helping hand. 
 We should not hear the complaints we do against ill fortune. 
 I am always ready myself; am now: in point of fact 
 I have promised to do what I can: but since, before I act, 
 Or even judge, I am willing to know all sides of a case, 
 'Tis part of my duty to see this girl. Could you procure 
 That I should speak with her? 
 
 {aside). This is the very thmg we want. 
 
 If now I could get 'him to ask Antiphila here to-day, 
 Clinia of course would come : I'll try and work it. 
 
 Well? 
 Answer me. Could you do this? ■ ^ ^ 
 
 Yes, father. 
 
 When? 
 To-day. 
 I did not mean to-day. 
 
 There's no time like the present. 
 For inconvenience? 
 
 No; for opportunity. 
 How so? 
 
 Invite her here to spend the feast with us, 
 And bring a friend. 
 
 But would she come? 
 
 Yes, she would come. 
 Whom have you asked besides? 
 
 Only Fhilolaches. 
 It happens, Pamphilus, we are short of guests,; I find 
 My old friend Phanias has gone from home to-day. 
 Archonides' wife is ill ; they cannot come : and now 
 Just the last thing Daniel has disappointed me. 
 The two young ladies would help us out : besides I am sure 
 'Twould please your mother to ask them. 
 
 I cannot agree with you there. 
 Allow me to judge of that ; and since you said you were able 
 To bring them — bring them. 
 
 Oh, if you wish it, I'm ready enough ; 
 I'll see they come : but I had forgotten ; there is one more 
 Besides Fhilolaches. 
 
 Who then? I beg you'll bring 
 None of your Clinias here. 
 
 He that is with me now. 
 He is it ? That's quite another thing : A gentleman 
 At first sight, Pamphilus; I wish that all your friends 
 Were such as he. By all means bring him. Present him now. 
 
 PAM. 
 
 CHR. 
 
 PAM. 
 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 
 PAM. 
 
 CHR. 
 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 
Act I.] The Feast of Bacchus. 193 
 
 His name? 
 PAM. Clitipho. 
 
 CHR. (aside). I like his appearance much : 
 
 When I came up he went respectfully aside — 
 
 Excellent manners, [to Clin.] Ha, good Clitipho, how d'ye do? 
 
 'Tis time that we were acquainted. I understand my son 
 
 Has invited you to our house. There's not much I can offer, 
 
 But My little fot is soon hot. I am , very glad '* 
 
 And proud to have you my guest. 
 CLIN. I thank you, sir; I am sorry — 
 
 CHR. No thanks, I pray. At present excuse me ; for I must go 
 
 And prepare my wife to receive her guests. You're sure they'll come? 
 PAM. Sure. 
 CHR. And I hope they may. 'Twill make our numbers up : 
 
 We'll have a merry feast. 
 
 PAM. Ay, sir [Exit Chremes ivitkin. 
 
 And so we shall, 
 
 Clinia. 
 CLIN. What have you done ? 
 PAM. Why pretty well, I think. 
 
 CLIN. I did not look for this, nor 'wish it, and do not like it. 
 PAM. Not like, it ! Is it not perfect? If all the gods in heaven 
 
 Had put their heads together to assist in your affairs. 
 
 They could not have done it better than I. My father bids "« 
 
 You and Antiphila both to spend the day; and he. 
 
 Charmed with her grace and beauty, will use his influence 
 
 To bring your father round. 
 CLIN. I would not risk so much 
 
 On the fancy of any man : and though I have a hope 
 
 Antiphila's charms will plead not vainly, that must be 
 
 When she's my wife, not now : and they must urge themselves ; 
 
 Another cannot paint them. 
 PAM. I do beseech you, Clinia, 
 
 Don't leave a friend in the lurch. Hark you; to tell the truth, 
 
 My scheme suits me to a te as well as you. My father 
 
 Expects Antiphila to bring a companion with her : sm 
 
 Now I have a lady friend, with whom I am circumstanced 
 
 Much as you are with yours. My father, just as yours. 
 
 Would never hear of my asking her home ; but if she comes 
 
 To-day as Antiphila's friend, he'll not guess who she is ; 
 
 So you may have your love to yourself, and I have mine. 
 
 And see, here comes Philolaches, our other guest : 
 
 I'll tell him what is arranged : he'll be a strong ally. 
 CLIN. Indeed, I can't consent : and who is Philolaches, 
 
 That you should wish to tell hira all my private affairs ? 
 PAM. Ah, he can smell a rat ; but don't be afraid of him ; seo 
 
 He's my sworn friend : and sure no less to keep a secret. 
 
 Than he is to find out anything in the mortal world 
 
 That you seek to .withhold. 
 CLIN. I pray, say nothing to him of me. 
 
 PAM. Trust us ; weiwon't betray you. (rum back to meet PHI.) 
 
 CLIN. Pamphilus ! why he's gone. 
 
 Now save me from my friends ! Indeed this Pamphilus 
 
194 The Feast of Bacchus. [Act I. 
 
 Will be my ruin : I wish to heaven I had never met him. 
 
 He'll tell his father next, this old Ionian huckster, 
 
 Sponge-mongering Chremes ; the gods defend me from him. 
 
 And his family feast, and his prosy wisdom ! I thought to spend 
 
 This day of my return with sweet Antiphila : ""■ 
 
 And here I am, caught by the ears. And yet my troublesome friend 
 
 Means well : I would not hurt his feelings ; but at any cost 
 
 I must get clear, and in one matter I cannot yield : 
 
 I will not have Antiphila brought to the judgment seat 
 
 Of this suburban oracle. What has he to do 
 
 With me and mine, my father or her — to push his nose 
 
 Into our affairs? 
 
 Re-ento' PAMPHILUS with PHILOLACHES. 
 
 PAM. Allow me, Clinia, here's my friend 
 
 Philolaches, the actor. Philolaches, my friend 
 Clinia : who is, as I told you, in Persia, you understand. 
 He looks for some assurance of your discretion. 
 PS. Sir, 
 
 You have it. Take this hand. And by the dog I swear 
 Not to divulge a tittle ; in friendship's secrecy 
 Rather to aid — 
 CLIN. No need, sir: I take the will for the deed. 
 
 My business is my own, and not of such a kind 
 As another can help in. 
 PAM. Oh, but he can. 
 
 PH. A family quarrel — 
 
 Meddling of course resented. But while your father, sir, 
 Treats you so ill, expels you his house, denies his ear 
 To the pitiful plea — 
 CLIN. Excuse me again. I do not know 
 
 That my father is ill-disposed. 
 PH. {to Pam.) You told me. 
 
 PAM. I said he was; 
 
 But Clinia hopes he may now be changed. 
 PH. If that's the case, 
 
 I see that your wish must be, that I should discover at once 
 Your father's temper tov/ards you. 
 CLIN. Indeed, sir, I do not wish it. 
 
 PH. I die to serve you. 
 CLIN. I thank you. 
 
 PH. I promise to find it out 
 
 In half-an-hour. 
 CLIN. How would you? 
 
 PH. I am an actor, sir ; 
 
 Never so much myself as when I seem another. 
 Would you employ my talent — 
 CLIN. Why, what would you do? 
 
 PH. Disguise myself as a Persian, late arrived in Athens : 
 Go to your father's house and bring him tidings of you. 
 How the old man took what I should tell him would teach you all. 
 
Act I.] The Feast of Bacchus. 195 
 
 Nay, I can promise more ; that, if there's left in him *"" 
 
 The last wandering spark of affection, I'll blow it to flame, 
 
 And you shall twist him round your thumb. 
 PAM. Bravo ! 
 
 CLIN. But, sir, 
 
 What tidings would you feign ? 
 Pff. That is as I should find him : 
 
 If soft, I'd handle him kindly : if liard, I'd say I'd seen you 
 
 Sick of a fever, enslaved, imprisoned, or, if required. 
 
 Dead and buried. 
 CLIN. And so you would give him needless pain. 
 
 PAM. That is the question, Clinia ; if you were sure of that. 
 
 You would not be hiding. 
 CLIN. Nay, but the doubt will not excuse me 
 
 In doing the thing, which I still must hope would pain him most. 
 PII. What matter, when all the time you are just behind the hedge? "" 
 
 No reason I see to wound him : I shall feel my way. 
 
 An hour will settle all. If he be kindly bent, 
 
 Or I can move him towards you, you must stand prepared 
 
 To strike while the iron is hot. The lady, I understand. 
 
 Will be with you here : be ready, and when I give the word, 
 
 You step across the road and kneel for the old man's blessing. 
 CLIN. I have told you, Pamphilus, Antiphila must not come. 
 
 Your father's interference is most unfortunate : 
 
 He is not my judge for good or ill. It shall not be. 
 PAM. I have promised. 
 CLIN. I am determined. 
 
 PH. A very delicate point. *■" 
 
 And yet 'tis a pity they should not come. 
 PAM. O Clinia, 
 
 Your obstinacy will ruin all. 
 PH. (to Pam.). I understand. 
 
 Your friend objects to the lady coming, because he thinks 
 
 Your father will know her? 
 PAM. And so he will. 
 
 PH. Nay, not at all. 
 
 Chremes need never know her. 
 PAM. How can you manage that? 
 
 PH. The thing's as easy as lying. Let the ladies change 
 
 Their names ; or if so be Chremes knows not their names, 
 
 Let them but change their parts. Gorgo — for that's the lady, 
 
 Whom you would bring, I guess — let Gorgo pass to-day 
 
 For Clinia's mistress ; let Antiphila play the maid ; «" 
 
 Which hinders not that when they come, each take his own. 
 
 You have your Gorgo ; you, sir, your Antiphila : 
 
 And none will be any the wiser. 
 PAM. Good. What say you now? 
 
 CLIN. 'Twould make all kinds of complications, Pamphilus : 
 
 And all to no manner of purpose. 
 PAM. Why I should keep my promise. 
 
 And spend the day with Gorgo. 
 CLIN. I'll play no part in this. 
 
 You quite forget besides that as yet I know not how 
 
196 The Feast of Bacchus. [Act 
 
 I. 
 
 Antiphila will receive me. 1 have been six months away, 
 
 
 She may have thrown me over, may have another lover, 
 
 
 And think of me no more. 
 
 
 Pff. Wish you to find out that? '*^ 
 
 
 I'll serve you too in this. Give me the word to go 
 
 
 And visit her where she lives, and if I find her true. 
 
 
 To bring her along at once. 
 
 
 CLIN. 'Tis extremely kind of you, sir. 
 
 
 To throw yourself so quickly and hotly into my affairs : 
 
 
 But indeed I do not need it. 
 
 
 PH. 'Tis plain to me you do. 
 
 
 A runaway just returned, afraid to face his father, 
 
 
 Fearful lest in his absence his mistress have proved untrue — 
 
 
 Not need a friend? Why a friend is just what you do need, 
 
 
 To discover for you the state of affairs, and put you in train. 
 
 
 CLIN. Though, sir, I were quite content to reckon upon your zeal, *'" 
 
 
 Maybe you overrate your ability. 
 
 
 PH. - Not at all. 
 
 
 Unless you will say that by art I am able to counterfeit 
 
 
 Passion in all its branches, and yet not know the thing 
 
 
 When I see it ; — as if a man could write who cannot read. 
 
 
 You think your love for this lady a secret between yourselves — 
 
 
 That she would not reveal it to me, a stranger? How in the world 
 
 
 Could she conceal it ? Why, don't you know that a girl in love 
 
 
 \s A B C to read? Trust me and let me try. 
 
 
 PAM. Clinia, do yield, I pray. 
 
 
 CLIN. I know not what to do. 
 
 
 I'll yield so far as this : that if Philolaches «» 
 
 
 Can, as he boasts, discover these two things for me. 
 
 
 First, how my father stands disposed to me now, and next 
 
 
 Whether Antiphila's heart is firm — and this so soon 
 
 
 And easily as he thinks— I would not hinder him. 
 
 
 One stipulation only : let him name what time 
 
 
 Will cover the whole performance j for failing him, I'd like 
 
 
 To take my affairs in hand myself. I'll ask him then. 
 
 
 When does he hope to do this? 
 
 
 PH. Give me an hour a-pieoe. 
 
 
 CLIN. This afternoon. 
 
 
 PH. Enough: a bargain. 'Tis two hearts 
 
 
 To read — your father and mistretes. 
 
 
 CLIN. And both this afternoon. *" 
 
 
 PAM. And bring the lady if she is true. 
 
 
 CLIN. I said not that. 
 
 
 PAM. Clinia, you must. 
 
 
 PH. Agree to this : I first will go 
 
 
 And visit Antiphila ; if she is willing, I bring her here, 
 
 
 And here you may meet. But since she comes as Gorgo's maid. 
 
 
 'Twill be easy for you to withdraw with her, where and when you choose : 
 
 
 I meanwhile will angle your father. 
 
 
 CLIN, {to Pam.). Then thus I assent, 
 
 
 That first, she is not introduced to your father ; and secondly. 
 
 
 That I may take her away when I choose. 
 
 
 PAM. Agreed. 
 
 
Act II.] The Feast, of Bacchus. i 
 
 97 
 
 PH. I'm oflF. 
 
 
 But first a word with you. (to Pam. ) 
 
 
 PAM. (to Clin.). O Clinia, I do thank you. 
 
 
 But don't stay out here longer : somebody is sure to see you. *"• 
 
 
 Go into the house. 
 
 
 CLIN. If you will come with me. 
 
 
 PAM. I'll come directly. 
 
 
 CLIN. I have never met your people. I can't go in by myself. 
 
 
 PAM. Why, man alive, there's only my father and mother. Go in. 
 
 
 [Exit Clinia within. 
 
 
 PH. Your friend has money? 
 
 
 PAM. Yes, his father. 
 
 
 PH. If I succeed, • 
 
 
 He'll give me something? 
 
 
 PAM, Surely. What are you going to do? 
 
 
 PH. I'm going to dress myself up as a Persian— didn't you hear? 
 
 
 To take in old Menedemus. 
 
 
 PAM. May I help? 
 
 
 PH. . Why, yes, 
 
 
 If you will dg as I tell : you shall be Persian in chief. 
 
 
 Swagger and talk the gibberish : I'll be interpreter. 
 
 
 Two are better than one, tho' one be a tup's head. *"i 
 
 
 PAM. Menedemus knows me by sight. 
 
 
 PH. Not in a Persian dress. 
 
 
 Come, there's no time to lose. I'll go to the lady first : 
 
 
 What is her name? Antiphila? 
 
 
 PAM. Yes. 
 
 
 PH. ' And where does she live? 
 
 
 PAM. I'll come with you down the road, and tell you all as we go. 
 
 
 But let's be off. I fear Clinia may change his mind. [Exeunt. 
 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 
 Enter PAMPHILUS. 
 
 
 ^ What unjust judges fathers all are towards their children j 
 
 II. I 
 
 Pretending to us as they do that the moment we cease to be boys 
 
 . . . 
 
 We ought to become thorough old men, without a trace 
 
 
 Of the inclinations natural to our time of life : 
 
 
 Governing us by the rule of their present appetites, 60o 
 
 
 And not by those thty have lost. If ever I have a son. 
 
 
 He will find me an easy father, able to understand 
 
 
 His faults, I hope, and ready to make allowance for them : 
 
 
 Not like mine, suspicious and cross — and he never speaks 
 
 
 But to read me a lecture on somebody else. Why, bless my soul, 
 
 
 If he has but taken an extra glass or two, the tales 
 
 
 Of his own wickedness he'll come out with ! And then he says, 
 
 
 By others' faults wise men correct their mm. What wisdom ! 
 
 
198 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 He little thinks how deaf an adder he is trying to charm. 
 At present the words of my mistress touch me nearer far, 
 When she says, Give me this, or. Bring me that; and I 
 Have nothing to answer. Nobody could be in a worse plight. 
 This fellow Clinia here has his hands full, yet his mistress 
 Is modest and well brought up, too gentle and innocent 
 To trifle with affection. Mine is a fine lady, exacting, 
 Vain, fashionable and extravagant ; and I lack the means 
 To please her fancy. This misfortune is new to me — 
 An experience, which I have only just begun to learn : 
 And as yet my father guesses nothing of it. 
 
 Enter CLINIA. 
 
 CLIN. If all were well, 
 
 They must have been here before ; I fear [there's something happened, * 
 
 Or that in my absence she may have become estranged from me. 
 PAM. What now, man ? 
 CLIN. O, I am most unhappy. 
 
 PAM. You had best take care, 
 
 Or some one coming out of your father's house may see you. 
 CLIN. I will ; but, Pamphilus, I have a strong presentiment 
 
 Of sonie misfortune, I know not what. 
 PAM. Why, what's the matter? 
 
 CLIN. Were nothing the matter, they certainly would have been here by this. 
 PAM. Nonsense. Doesn't it strike you it's some way off? and then 
 
 You know how it is with women, they are always about a year 
 
 Putting on their things and getting themselves up. 
 CLIN. But only fancy if really she should have forgotten me ! ' 
 
 Yes, — while like a fool I ran away from home, 
 
 And wandered I know not where, fall'n in deep disgrace, 
 
 Undutiful to my father, for whom I am now sorry 
 
 And ashamed of my conduct towards him ; — thou, yes, O thou hast 
 
 Deserted me, my Antiphila. What shall I do? 
 PAM. Look, look ! 
 
 I see them coming. 
 CLIN. Where ? 
 
 PAM. Well, here's Philolaches, 
 
 Who comes to annoimce them, (fiside) and on his shoulders a mighty bale 
 
 Of Persian togs. [Enter PHILOLACHES with a large bundle. 
 
 CLIN. He has*'come without them! (to Phil.) Tell me, sir, 
 
 Do the ladies come? 
 PH. They follow ; I come before 
 
 Because there's not a woman in Athens would walk with me 
 
 Carrying such a bundle along the public streets. 
 
 1 was almost ashamed of myself. (sets bundle down.) 
 
 CLIN. But does she know I am here? 
 
 PH. Or else had never come. 
 CLIN. You have actually seen her then? 
 
 PH. I'll tell you all I saw. The business was, I think. 
 
 To discover if she was true? 
 CLIN. It was. Indeed I feared— 
 
 PH. Then I have discovered it for you. 
 
 II. 2 
 
 II- 3 
 15 etc. 
 
Act II.] 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 199 
 
 11.3 
 33-67 
 
 CLIN. If you have really done so, 
 
 Tell me your news at once. 
 PS. Attend. When first I came 
 
 To the house, I knocked. Out came an old woman and opened the door ; 
 I struck past her into the room. Of all the ways 
 
 Of finding out how she has been living all these months, ^ '*", 
 
 This suddenly breaking in on her was the best : this gave me 
 A pretty good guess at her usual way of spending the time : 
 There's nothing like it for showing what people really are. 
 I came upon her hard at work at her tapestry, 
 Dressed in a common gown : no gold about her ; none 
 Of the rouge and powder, that women bedaub their faces 'with : 
 She was dressed like those who dress for themselves : her hair was loose 
 And pushed back carelessly from her face — 
 CLIN. Go on, I pray. 
 
 PH. The old woman was spinning the woof; one servant girl besides 
 Wove with her, quite in rags, untidy and dirty. 
 PAM. Now, 560 
 
 If this is tnie. I see you are safe. You would not find 
 The servant a slattern, where there's a lover. 
 CLIN. Pray go on. 
 
 PH. When I told her that you were returned, and had sent for her. 
 
 She suddenly stopped in her work ; the tears ran down her cheeks 
 In such a way, it was easy to see 'twas for love of you. — 
 CLIN. Perdition take me now, if I know where I am for joy. 
 
 I was so afraid. 
 PAM. And Gorgo is coming? 
 
 PH. Ay, no fear. 
 
 Biit don't forget who's who. 
 PAM. And have you taught the ladies 
 
 Their parts? 
 PH. Antiphila's part is nothing to learn at all ; 
 
 Except she must not call your friend by his right name : • '" 
 
 But Gorgo-^ 
 PAM. What? 
 
 PH. Why she was hard to persuade, but once 
 
 Persuaded, I do not fear her. I am more afraid of you ; 
 Don't you forget that she doesn't belong to you, mind ! The slip 
 Of a word might nrin all. And don't make signs. 
 PAM. Trust me. 
 
 See here they come. 
 CLIN. I see them. 
 
 PH. Stay ; let us stand aside ; 
 
 And watch them till they see us. 
 CLIN. Why now ! 
 
 PH. I say, stand back. (they retire. ) 
 
 Enter GORGO and ANTIPHILA. 
 
 GOR. Upon my word, my dear Antiphila, I do praise 
 
 And envy you too, when I see how all your study has been 
 
 To make your mind as charming and sweet as your face. Lord love you ! 
 
 I'm not surprised at any one wanting to marry you. *™ 
 
 II. 4. 
 1—29 
 
aoo Tke Feast of Bacchus. [Act II. 
 
 I see from what you've said what kind of person you are ; 
 
 And wlien I come to think of the sort of life, which, you 
 
 And people like you, lead, who keep admirers off 
 
 At arms'-Iength, then no wonder, I sajr, that you should be 
 
 Just what you are, and others, like me, so different. 
 
 Then once your mind made up to share and spend your days 
 
 With the man whose disposition is most congenial to you. 
 
 He never leaves you more : for mutual benefits 
 
 Must bind you so closely, that no misfortune cart ever come 
 
 To cross your love. 
 ANT. I cannot tell, what others do ; »«<' 
 
 But I know I always have wished, and done my best, to find 
 
 My happiness in what pleased him. 
 CLIN, {aside). Ah, my Antiphila, 
 
 And that is why I love you, why I am now returned. 
 GOR. Who is that young man who is standing to look at us? 
 ANT. Ah, hold me up ! 
 
 GOR. Why, what in the world's the matter, my dear? 
 
 ANT. I shall die; I shall die. 
 
 GOR. Do say, what is it astonishes you? 
 
 ; ANT. Is it Clinia I see or not? 
 GOR. See who ? 
 
 CLIN. 'Tis I, my dearest. 
 
 ANT. My long-expected Clinia, it is you. 
 CLIN. Are you well? 
 
 ANT. Oh, I am glad 'you have come back safe. 
 CLIN. Do I hold thee, 
 
 Antiphila, thou most desired of my heart ! 
 PH. Take care. «« 
 
 Remember. Here comes the old man. {takes uf the bimdle.) 
 
 Enter CHREMES from his house. 
 
 CHR. I thought so ; here you are. 
 
 I heard your voices. I welcome you all. How very nice ! 
 
 Now, Pamphilus, pray present me ! 
 PAM. [presenting Gorgo). This is the lady, sir. 
 
 My father, miss. 
 CHR. (aside). She is handsomely dressed, (to Gorge) I am very proud 
 
 To make your acquaintance. I hope the day may be fortunate. 
 
 'Twa&- kind of you now to come. 
 GOR. Why, bless your heart, old man, 
 
 I thank ye: but all the same I came to please myself. 
 CHR. (aside). My word ! 
 
 PAM. And this is the lady she brings with her. 
 
 CHR. (to Antiphila). Ah, good-day. 
 
 You are welcome, welcome all. Again, good Clitipho. 
 
 Fhilolaches, I think. Good-day to you, sir ! My word ! " 
 
 What a gigantic bundle ! 
 PH. Ay. 
 
 CHR. What can it be? ~ 
 
 PH. The ladies' cloaks and wraps. 
 CHR. Shame to load you thus! 
 
Act II.] The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 201 
 
 You know the proverb, The willing horse. Pray set them down. 
 
 
 
 I'll send a servant to. take them. 
 
 
 
 Pff. Nay, 'tis the merest trifle. 
 
 
 
 CHR. Why, yes : and I'll call my wife : excuse me, ladies — a moment. 
 
 
 
 Sostrata, Sostrata ! . . . \goes into house 
 
 calling. 
 
 
 PAM. \to PA.]. Follow me quick : this way, before my father is back. 
 
 
 
 1 [exeunt Pant, and Phil, into home at back. 
 
 
 CLIN. You know why I am returned? 
 
 
 
 ANT. Nay, you must tell me first 
 
 
 
 What made you go away. 
 
 
 
 CLIN. I could not help it, love ; 
 
 
 
 My father — 
 
 
 
 ANT. O, I know ; but s he not kinder now ? 
 
 
 
 CLIN. Nay, I'm afraid he is not. 
 
 
 
 Re-enter CHREMES with servant. 
 
 
 
 CHR. Ladies, my wife's within. 
 
 6S!1 
 
 
 She begs you'll enter. Why ! and where is Philolaches ? 
 
 
 
 Clitipho, pray go iti — no ceremony, sir — 
 
 
 
 And take this lady with you. I follow. 
 
 
 
 CLIN. I thank you, sir. 
 
 
 
 [Exeunt Clinia and Antiphila with servant within. 
 
 
 CHR. {to Cargo). With you I beg one word of explanation alone, 
 
 
 
 Ere we go in — one word — 
 
 
 
 COR. I wait your pleasure, sir. 
 
 
 
 CHR. I do not wish to seem to meddle in your affairs. 
 
 
 
 GOR. No matter for that. 
 
 
 
 CHR. Believe me, that, if I interfere. 
 
 
 
 It is for your good. 
 
 
 
 GOR. 1 know, sir, and thank you very kindly. 
 
 
 
 CHR. I broach the matter at once ; my maxim has always been. 
 
 
 
 Straight to the business. 
 
 
 
 GOR. Well, I don't dislike you for that. 
 
 1-30 
 
 
 CHR. Then am I not right in thinking you have never so much as met 
 
 
 
 Old Menedemus? 
 
 
 
 GOR. No. 
 
 
 
 CHR. You have not? 
 
 
 
 GOR. No. 
 
 
 
 CHR. Stay. Perhaps , 
 
 
 
 You don't know who I mean. 
 
 
 
 GOR. He's whatdyecallem's father. 
 
 
 
 CHR, (aside). Whatdyecallem ? well !— He is Clinia's father; yes. 
 
 
 
 GOR. What of him? 
 
 
 
 CHR. Why 'tis thus, {aside). What was I going to say? 
 
 
 
 GOR. Go on, sir. 
 
 
 
 CHR. Ay, the long and the short of the matter is this. 
 
 
 
 I know^your story — let me see— do I know your name? 
 
 
 
 GOR. Gorgo. 
 
 
 
 CHR. Ay, to be sure. Well, Gorgo, I know your story. 
 
 
 
 But do not charge on you the unhappy consequence 
 
 \ 
 
 
 Of a rash attachment. No. Young men will be young men, 
 
 «\o 
 
 
 And women are — women ; no blame to them. But the fact is this : 
 
 
 
202 The Feast of Bacchus. [Act 
 
 [I. 
 
 That being on intimate tenns with Clinia's family, 
 
 
 I have been entrusted by them, as one unprejudiced. 
 
 
 To enquire, to judge and advise, and, if I can, to find 
 
 
 A Modus Vivendi: you, Gorgo, of course are VFell aware 
 
 
 That your lover, whose absence has had no doubt its effect on you — 
 
 
 That Clinia's running away from home, I say, was due 
 
 
 To his father's disapproval of your attachment : that 
 
 
 Gave rise to disagreement; and Clinia, balancing 
 
 
 'Twixt love and duty, fled from home, and is now abroad, '"' 
 
 
 Madly risking his life in Asia. Why do you laugh? 
 
 
 GOR. Indeed, sir, I was not laughing. 
 
 
 CHR. The shock this gave his .father 
 
 
 Betrayed at last the "affection he really bore his son : 
 
 
 It measures too the mischief— shows his purpose too, 
 
 
 And strong determination. He sold his house in town, 
 
 
 Retired from life and pleasure — bought a farm out here. 
 
 
 And works upon it from morning till night like a common drudge. 
 
 
 There's nothing to laugh at. 
 
 
 GOR. Excuse me, sir, I was only thinking 
 
 
 Of something very ridiculous. 
 
 
 CHR. Attend. 'Tis you have caused 
 
 
 This quarrel: you have alienated father and son. '«" 
 
 
 Not only that ; but it lies with you, and you alone, 
 
 
 That one is risking his life in wild and barbarous wars, 
 
 
 The other is taking leave of his senses as fast as he can. 
 
 
 Think of this happy family life thus broken up. 
 
 . 
 
 Which may be never renewed. Suppose that Clinia 
 
 
 Be slain in the wars, and his father brought by grief to liis grave- 
 
 
 Should not this make you serious? 
 
 
 GOR. He ! He ! He ! 
 
 
 CHR. Your trifling manner, miss. 
 
 
 Causes me much distress. 
 
 
 GOR. I am very nervous, sir. 
 
 
 Your solemn way of talking alarms me, and when alarmed. 
 
 
 I always laugh. He ! He ! He ! 
 
 
 CHR. Well try and contain yourself, I pray. "" 
 
 
 I asked you here to my house the better to judge of you. 
 
 
 GOR. Ha! Hal Ha! 
 
 
 CHR. Well, well, I see yon are merry. I would not check your mirth, 
 
 
 And yet I cannot see what cause you have to laugh. 
 
 
 Still 'tis a feast with us. I bade you join the feast : 
 
 
 Be merry to-day. 
 
 
 GOR. Ha! Ha! I will, sir. 
 
 
 Enter PAMPHILUS and PHILOLACHES. 
 
 
 CHR. (aside). By luck, here's Pamphilus— 
 
 
 {to Gor.). See, here is my son : go in: I'll speak with you soon again. 
 
 
 GOR. What time do you dine? 
 
 
 CHR. At -five. 
 
 
 GOR. Is the bath made hot? 
 
 
 CHR. (aside). My word ! 
 
 
 What a woman!— I'll cajl[my wife to attend you within. 
 
 
Act II.] The Feast of Bacchus. 203 
 
 COR. I thank you. I'll take the bath, (going indoors. ) 
 
 
 CHR. (aside to Pant.). Pamphilus, Pamphilus. 
 
 
 What have you done ? Such a woman as this to dine in my house ! "*• 
 
 
 [Exit Chremes with Gorgo. 
 
 
 PAM. By Jove, Fhilolaches ; here's a dilemma now : 
 
 
 I never thought of it. 
 
 
 Pff. What ! 
 
 
 PAM. Why when, for Clinia's sake, 
 
 
 We changed the ladies, I quite forgot that I had described 
 
 
 Antiphila to my father. Gorgo will never do. 
 
 
 PIT. Why not? 
 
 
 PAM. Don't ask. What is to be done? What shall I say? 
 
 
 PH. I'm thinking. 
 
 
 PAM. My father must never know who Gorgo is. 
 
 
 PH. I see. 
 
 
 PAM. What can I tell him? 
 
 
 Pff. I'm thinking. 
 
 
 PAM. He must not know. 
 
 
 PH. Do let me think. 
 
 
 PAM. What is to be done? What can I say? 
 
 
 Pff. I have it. 
 
 
 PAM. What is it? 
 
 
 Pff. If we can do it — 
 
 
 PAM. What? 
 
 
 Pff. Your father 
 
 
 Must sooner or later come to learn the ladies were changed. **> 
 
 
 PAM. To-morrow that will not matter when Gorgo is out of the way. 
 
 
 To-day we must keep up the deception. 
 
 
 Pff. I see you must. 
 
 
 PAM. How can I? 
 
 
 Pff. What do you say if I can make your father 
 
 
 Give Gorgo fifty pounds for being so much unlike 
 
 
 The lady he thinks she is? 
 
 
 PAM. Impossible. 
 
 
 Pff. Nay, 'tis not. 
 
 
 PAM. Well, how? 
 
 
 Pff. Why, when your father scolds, turn round upon him ; 
 
 
 Say you knew all along exactly what he would think. 
 
 
 And brought the lady here in the hope he'd see his way 
 
 
 To helping old Menedemus out of his scrape. 
 
 
 PAM. And then? 
 
 
 Pff. Tell him to offer Gorgo forty or fifty pounds, 
 
 
 If she will renounce her claim on Clinia. 
 
 
 PAM. Fifty pounds ! ™<J 
 
 
 My father give fifty pounds ! 
 
 
 Pff. Why, don't you wish he would? 
 
 
 PAM. And what's the use of wishing? 
 
 
 Pff. Try him. 
 
 
 PAM. I think you're mad. 
 
 
 Pff. Try it J I'll help you out. See here he comes. 
 
 
204. The Feast of Bacchus. [Act II. 
 
 Enter CHREMES. 
 
 CHR. Good heavens! 
 
 Famphilus, here's a sample of manners and good breeding. 
 
 How could you ever have thought of bringing that woman here ? 
 PAM. You said you wanted to see her : I thought you wished her to come. 
 CHR. When, sir, I blamed your friend, you said I could not- judge. 
 
 Not having seen the lady. Did I not rightly judge? 
 PH. {aside). Tell him you knew. Don't stand there mum. ^ 
 CHR. ~ I am quite ashamed. 
 
 PAM. You see then what she is like ? 
 CHR. Of course I see too well. 
 
 PAM. I knew, sir, all along exactly what you would think, 
 
 PH. {aside). That's right. 
 CHR. And yet you brought her? 
 
 PAM. You blame me, sir, too soon : 
 
 I have put within your reach the very thing you wished, 
 CHR. How so? 
 
 PAM. I thought you wished to help Menedemus out, 
 
 CHR. I do. 
 PAM. Why then, 'tis easy. 
 
 PH. {aside). Bravo! 
 
 CHR. What do you mean? 
 
 PAM. Why, sir, we are all agreed the match would never do ; 
 
 Then why in the world not put a stopper on it at once ? 
 CHR. I don't quite see your drift. 
 PAM. Why, forty or fifty pound 
 
 Would settle the matter, 
 CHR. How? 
 
 PAM. Just make the offer and see. 
 
 CHR. What offer? 
 
 PH. O, I see. 
 
 CHR. I don't see. 
 
 PH. Capital ! 
 
 CHR. I'm very dull, no doubt. 
 
 PH. If 'twas my place to speak ... 
 
 CHR. I don't forbid you, sir. 
 
 PH. Then, sir, I praise the scheme. 
 
 CHR. What scheme ? 
 PH. I'll wager iriy life he means, this lady here 
 
 Has plenty of, other lovers; offer her fifty pounds. 
 
 If she'll renounce this one. ^ 
 
 CHR. Why, stuff: suppose she did. 
 
 She might be off to-day and on again to-morrow : 
 
 Besides, against what Clinia's worth iu cash to her, 
 
 A fifty pounds is nothing. [71? Pam.]. If that is all you meant. 
 
 You're a very clever fellow. 
 PH. No doubt there's nothing in it. 
 
 Unless she set her hand to paper. 
 CHR. Would that bind? 
 
 How can you think it? 
 PH. It might not be binding perhaps on her ; 
 
Act. II.] The Feast of Bacchus. 205 
 
 And yet 'twould do the business. If it did not shock 
 Clinia's love,, as it must, 'twould kill his last pretence. 
 How could he face his father armed with such a paper? 
 If you will help this old Menedemus, that's the way — 
 CHR. I'll tell Menedemus of this. 
 PAM. If you would help him, father, 
 
 Spare him the pain. No doubt he'd give you back the money. 
 CHR. I believe you there. I'd give six times the sum myself. 
 Were I injhisjplace. 
 PH. I've half a mind, if you are afraid, '*° 
 
 To do it myself. 
 CHR. I should not fear to advance the money. 
 
 PH. A poor man might, but you, sir . . . 
 CHR. I do not grudge the money. 
 
 PH. A gentleman can't consider his pocket at every turn. 
 PAM. I'm sure you^can't. 
 CHR. Do you think that forty pounds would do it? 
 
 PH. Forty or fifty. 
 CHR. Thirty? 
 
 PAM. Do it handsomely. 
 
 You say you'd give six times the sum yourself. 
 CHR. I would. 
 
 Ay, Famphilus, fifty times. 
 PH. Then don't think twice about it. 
 
 CHR. I do think twice. {goes aside.) 
 
 PH. Will he do it or not? 
 
 PAM. My lucky coin. 
 
 PH. Watch him. 
 PAM. Heads he does, and tails he doesn't. Heads ! 
 
 He does. 
 PH. And he will. Look at him. 
 CHR. [aside). Fifty pounds ! A risk. "° 
 
 No chance of profit ; no : nor marketable return. 
 Yet might it save a thousand. Well saved, is like well spent ; 
 Ay, even though 'tis saved for another: besides I am sure 
 The money is safe enough. And now I have gone so far 
 To help Menedemus, I can't draw back ; while if I do it 
 I certainly win his esteem and thanks. 'Tis very true 
 That a good turn done to a neighbour is done to oneself : ' one lives 
 Within the circle of joy one goes to create ! 'Tis wise : 
 And then to have Menedemus my friend 1 Say forty pounds ; 
 ^ I happen to have it handy. I'll do it. It shan't be said, '■*° 
 
 Chremes is not a gentleman. No, I'll do it. 
 PAM. Sir, 
 
 Have you decided? 
 CHR. I have. 
 
 PH. You'll do it? 
 
 CHR. I shall. 
 
 PH. Bravo ! 
 
 Will you give us the money now ? 
 CHR. You, sir! 
 
 PH. I mean to your son ; 
 
 To arrange with the lady. 
 
2o6 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 CHR. How so? You seem in a vast hurry. 
 
 I manage my own affairs. Besides the forty pounds 
 
 Is only a guess. I hope to win the lady for less. 
 
 Perhaps you thought that if I gave you the round sura, 
 
 I should not enquire for the balance, and you might manage to save 
 
 A little commission. No : I manage my own affairs. 
 
 You can't take Chremes in as easily as all that. \Exit. 
 
 PH. Ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! What say you ! 
 PAM. You dre a genius, 
 
 PH. Well ! 
 
 You wanted a present for Gorgo, you told me. Won't this do ? 
 PAM. Oh yes ! But I am amazed. 
 PH. Come, let's go in and dress. 
 
 I hope to bleed Menedemus to better purpose than this. 
 
 For after all we shan't see much, of this forty pounds ; 
 
 And as far as I am concerned it's money thrown away. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Enter CHREMES. 
 
 I NEVER saw such a woman ; never in all my life 
 
 Upon my word I am sorry for poor Menedemus now : 
 
 What would he have done without me? What a predicament! 
 
 Suppose his son had returned, and he with his simple heart '** 
 
 Had given in, and had this woman to live in his house — 
 
 Well, thanks to me he is safe. Forty pounds, I think, 
 
 Was not so dear a bargain : and yet 'tis a tidy sum. 
 
 As much as I should make on a small consignment of sponges : 
 
 And that I have paid on risk — althoi^h I cannot doubt 
 
 But that Menedemus will gladly pay me ^ain — 'tis risked. 
 
 All for this paper, wherein the lady promises 
 
 In consideration of this same money made over to her. 
 
 Never again to receive the addresses of her quondam lover, 
 
 Clinia ; signed Gorgo : a genuine business. '* 
 
 And yet no wonder she laughed ; of course she thinks me a fool 
 
 To consider her promise of weight. Ah mistress, giggle and all, 
 
 I've settled your hash. Ha ! ha I 'twas clever of Pamphilus : 
 
 The lad has some of my wits. But still I shall be uneasy, 
 
 Until I find Menedemus is reasonable :^ndeed 
 
 I'll lose no time. Menedemus might desire to come 
 
 And judge for himself : I'll press him to do so : 'Twere best, and then 
 
 He'll dine with us after all, and I shall dine much better 
 
 Myself, I must confess, when I know my money is safe. 
 
 [Exit into Menedemus' garden. 
 
 Enter PHILOLACHES and PAMPHILUS disguised as Persians. 
 PH. Now don't you think we are unmistakable Persians, eh? *"' 
 
 PAM. The essence of Central Asia ; 
 The shade of Themistocles. 
 
 I shouldn't fear to meet 
 
Act III.] The Feast of Bacchus. 207 
 
 PH. Indeed, I'll bet my life 
 
 Your mother would never know you. Is it not a miracle 
 What these wide snowy trousers and black beards will do? 
 PAM. I like the hat. 
 
 PH. Is it comfortable? 
 
 PAM. It fits like fun. 
 
 Have you your tale by heart?' 
 PH. I shan't go wrong in that 
 
 You must speak mock high-Persian ; as interpreter 
 I will make sense of nonsense. Be grave too. 
 PAM. If I laugh, 
 
 I've got a pretty good sleeve to laugh in. Let us go. 
 
 But stay — which gate should good true Persians enter by? '" 
 
 In at the garden gate, or round the house to the front? 
 PH. Suppose we try the garden. Isn't this the garden? 
 PAM. Yes. 
 
 PH. I'll lead. You know the way too well. 
 
 [They go to the garden gale and there meet Chremes entering. 
 PAM. Gods, here's my father! 
 
 CHR, {aside). Why, who in the name of wonder are these queer foreigners? 
 
 PH. LlERTOS TULVO. 
 CHR. Sir, I do not understand you. 
 
 PAM. (to Phil, 'aside). Tell hixa we want Menedemus, and get him out of the way. 
 — Mefarim burne sin menedemus ryneas. 
 PH. The prince salutes my lord, and asks if here in the earth 
 Are the thresholds of lord Menedemus. 
 CHJi. Ah, you speak our tongue. 
 
 'Tis well. This is his house. What would you with him? 
 PAM. (to Phil.). Heavens! ™ 
 
 What will you say? 
 PH. Go on. 
 
 PAM. Aproysi thulnear. 
 
 Kekachylos ratuuan.dricho bresnion oin. 
 PH. My lord has bid me say we are Persians, sir, arrived 
 With tidings to lord Menedemus. 
 CHR. (aside). Ah! I guessed as much. 
 
 This should be news of Clinia ; bad news too, I think. 
 Their Asiatic gravity cannot quite conceal 
 A strange anxiety. If he's dead, my money is lost. 
 My forty pounds all gone. I'll learn the truth at once — 
 The news, sir, that ye bring, concerns it the old man's son? 
 PH. (aside). We're in for it. 
 PAM. (aside). Put him off. Say we bear secret tidings. — ss" 
 
 NUSPIOL ONAYRMICO. 
 
 PH. My lord, sir, will not speak 
 
 But only with lord Menedemus. 
 CHR. (aside). That's unfortunate. 
 
 Hqw shall I find it out ? Menedemus is gone from home : 
 
 I'm sure he'd wish them to tell me; and 'twould be kindness' self 
 
 Gently to break the news to the poor old man. Suppose 
 
 I say that I'm Menedemus. I'm sure that scowling fellow 
 
 Would drive him out of his wits with fright. Ay, so I'll do. — 
 
 Sir, tell your master that I'm Menedemus. 
 
ao8 The Feast of Bacchus. [Act III. 
 
 PAM. {to Phil.). Ho ; the deuce ! 
 
 What's to be done? 
 PH. {to Pam.). The old liar. It's all the same in the end. 
 
 He'll tell Menedemus for us. Go on, 
 PAM. Vequamiel 810 
 
 Sarepo maneas, camerusyn nAslonon. 
 Pff, I am bid to tell thee, sir, the news is of thy son. 
 CH/i. Is't bad news? 
 
 PH. Very bad. 
 
 Cff/i. Alas ! 
 
 PAM. {aside). Now must my father 
 
 Act for hiraselC He'll not discover ra». 
 CHR. I pray, 
 
 ' Tell me the worst. I am not entirely unprepared. 
 Conceal nothing. 
 PAM, Bios emelto ormimos 
 
 Nasephon feldido bo Chrysnotaparoys. 
 PH. Cllviia, thy son, was slain in battle by the prince 
 Nasephon on the plains of Chrysnotaparoys. 
 CHR. (aside). My money is paid for nothing: how very provoking! But now ** 
 I must not forget the part I am playing. I must affect 
 In some degree the sorrow which Menedemus would feel. — 
 Alas, my dear son, ah, alas, my dear son, slain. 
 Slain dead upon the plains of . . . 
 PAM. Chrysnotaparoys. 
 
 CHR. Of Chrysnotaparoys. Alas ! how was he slain ? 
 
 PH. My master now wilj tell. 
 PAM. Hastoripeson non. 
 
 PH. They pierced him through with spears. 
 PAM. Bo naslon tyvamo. 
 
 CHR. What's that? 
 
 PH. They cut off his head. 
 
 PAM. Vem dreschim pailekin. 
 
 PH. They tore him limb from limb. 
 CHR. Alas my son 1 No hope. — 
 
 {aside). I don't know what to say. — Barbarian beasts ! 
 PH. Oh sir ! sso 
 
 Wreak not thy wrath on us, the unwilling messengers 
 Of mournful tidings. 
 CHR. Pray don't take me now for a fool : 
 
 I perfectly understand, that my obligation to you 
 Is as great as if the news you brought was good. Go on. 
 Pardon the hasty expression that burst from me in my woe. 
 If yet there is more, don't scruple to tell it. 
 PH. We thank thee. 
 
 PAM. . Catros 
 
 USCORINO fricosan non, 
 PH. They fla:yed him alive. 
 
 PAM. {aside to PMl.). You've killed him twice. 
 CHR. O horror! 
 
 PH. {aside to Pam.). Give me a long one now. — 
 
 PAM. Permason cralti abritheos nasolion, 
 Ilno synorpin mudi. 
 
Act III.] The Feast of Bacchus. 209 
 
 Pff. Ere he died thy son 
 
 Sent thee a message, sir. There lives in the town hard by '"' 
 
 A poor old widow woman from Corinth , . . 
 CUR. I know. Her daughter 
 
 My son fell madly in love with, was even on the point to marry. 
 
 'Twould never have done : she was not at ;all the sort of woman. 
 
 Tell me, sirs, when you came. 
 Pff. Our ship arrived this morning; 
 
 And since we sail to-night, 'twill save thee needless trouble 
 
 To make thy gift to the prince my master here at once, 
 
 According to Persian custom. 
 CHR. Ask you for money, sir? 
 
 PH. That is the Persian custom. 
 CHR. (aside). Most annoying this ! — 
 
 Sir, I will send it you. 
 PH. We would not trouble thee : 
 
 We'll wait, sir, while thou fetchest it. 
 CHR. (aside). What in the world to do? *» 
 
 These Persians have an uncommon sharp eye to the main chance: 
 
 I'll try one piece of gold if 'twill content him. — Sir, 
 
 Give this then to your master. 
 £H. It will not satisfy him. 
 
 For he is a potentate : but I will obey thee, sir. 
 PAM. Tartys chribos ! (pits hand on sword.) 
 
 PH. See, sir, he doth not like it. 
 
 CHR. Well, 
 
 I am but a poor man, but what is right I'll do. 
 
 See, here are four more pieces, and that is all I have. 
 
 And pray consider, sirs, the mournful news you bring 
 
 Cannot be held of value, as joyful tidings might, (gives.) 
 
 (aside). I hope this may content them : 'tis not much. Menedemus *"" 
 
 Will after all be spared the expense of a funeral. 
 
 PAM. JOPISCO MORCA. 
 
 PH. Sir, he is still but ill contented. 
 
 CHR. Then 'wait, sirs. I'll go in and fetch you what I may. 
 
 PH. We will ,await thee here. 
 CHR. (aside). I'll go and find Menedemus. \Exi(. 
 
 PH. Now let's be off at once. 
 PAM. What sport ! O gods ! five pounds ! 
 
 He never made me so handsome a present in all my life. 
 I've tried all kinds of dodges to screw coin out of him. 
 But I never could : and you've come round him twice to-day. 
 I'll arrange with you for some more adventures of this sort. 
 PH. Stay, 
 
 Half this is mine. 
 PAM. And welcome. r 
 
 Enter MENEDEMUS at back unperceived: he watches them. 
 
 PH. What made your governor 
 
 Tell all those lies? 
 PAM. Just like him. 
 
2IO 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 Pfl. Why should he pretend 
 
 To be Menedemus? 
 PAM. Merely to meddle ! besides no doubt 
 
 He was anxious about the money we cheated him of this morning ; 
 He wishes now he was off his bargain with Gorgo. 
 
 PH. Ay. 
 
 He gave you a blessing this morning. 
 PAM. May the gods bless him. 
 
 I love him at this moment. 
 
 PH. Come, we must be gone. 
 
 PAM. Hercules ! there is old Menedemus himself. Make haste ! 
 I hope he has not overheard us. 
 
 PH. March by in good style. 
 
 PAM. Chrysnotaparoys. 
 
 PH. Bo Chrysnotaparoys. 
 
 MEN. Chrysnotaparoys I Whatever jargon is this? 
 
 Queer-looking fellows too to be prowling, about my house, 
 
 And talking of me. Some maskers my neighbour Chremes hires 
 
 To honour the Feast of Bacchus. A stupid, vulgar fashion. 
 
 This orientalising, in great vogue too, and still 
 
 Gains ground, I fear ; and this is one of the gaudy-days. 
 
 'Tis well I did not accept his invitation to dine. 
 
 Mummery and tomfoolery ! Alas, I have been all day 
 
 More nervous and anxious than ever. I even thought this morning 
 
 I heard my poor son's voice : so certain I was that I ran 
 
 To the end of the garden and looked. — Surely I was either born 
 
 With a mind most singularly sensible of grief, or else 
 
 The saying is not true that time is sorrow's cure. 
 
 My sorrow rather increases upon me every day, 
 
 And the longer he is away the more do I yearn for him. 
 
 And miss him. 
 
 HI. i 
 II — 16 
 
 Entir CHREMES from MENEDEMUS' house. 
 
 CHR. {aside). Why here he is, just when I'd given him up. — 
 
 Menedemus ! 
 
 MEN. What is the matter? 
 
 CHR. Alas, Menedemus ! 
 
 MEN. You frighten me, Chremes. 
 
 CHR. I've sought you everywhere. 
 
 MEN. I had to go in the town. Is anything wrong? 
 CHR. I came 
 
 To tell you how I had done you a service ; light of heart. 
 Because I had done you a service, knew you must approve, 
 And did not doubt that you would repay me a little sum 
 That I ventured on your behalf. 
 MEN. Certainly, Chremes; well? 
 
 CHR. I knew you would, but still I came to explain at once. 
 
 1 sought for you in your garden in vain ; and coming out, 
 Intending to go to your house, just as I opened the gate, 
 Just here, I met two foreigners strangely dressed. 
 
 MEN. In white? 
 
 CHR. You saw them? 
 
Act III.] The Feast of Bacch us. an 
 
 MEN. A moment ago. Who are they? 
 
 CHR. The elder one 
 
 Addressed me in Persian. 
 MEN. In Persian, did he? What did he say? 
 
 CHR. I'll tell you. When they saw me at y6ur gate, coming out, 
 
 They thought most naturally that I was you. 
 MEN, I see. " 
 
 CHR. I did not undeceive them. 
 MEN. They thought that you were me? 
 
 CHR. They did. 
 MEN. I have little doubt but that they are revellers, 
 
 Who knowing what you, Chremes, would call my folly, came 
 To play some practical joke. They said they were Persians ? 
 CHR. Yes. 
 
 MEN. With news of Clinia ? 
 CHR. Yes. 
 
 MEN. This sort of impertinence 
 
 Provokes me, Chremes; 'tis want of respect. Suppose I am 
 Somewhat oldfashioned, yet to be idly trifled with. 
 In a matter in which I feel so deeply . . . 
 CHR. Pray heaven you are right. 
 
 I did suspect them myself at first : but when they spoke . . . 
 MEN. What did they say? 
 CHR. I dare not tell you. 
 
 MEN. You need not fear. '^i 
 
 CHR. They said your son was dead. They saw him killed by a prince, 
 
 In a battle at Chrysno . . . Chrysno . . . 
 MEN. Chrysnotaparoys ? 
 
 CHR. Ha ! is it a famous place ? 
 
 MEN. I never heard of it, Chremes. 
 
 CHR. Then how did you know? 
 
 MEN. They were talking together as I came in. 
 
 CHR. That should convince you, and then the dying message he sent. 
 MEN. What's that? 
 CHR. The tale you know. The old Corinthian widow. 
 
 Whose daughter he was in love with . . . 
 MEN. Did they say, may I ask. 
 
 All this in Persian? 
 CHR. One did : yes — but I confess. 
 
 That in spite of a few expressions I was able to understand, 
 I had to trust very much to the one that interpreted, "" 
 
 MEN. But him I should understand? 
 
 CHR. I don't say but what you might. 
 
 MEN. It's forty years since I was in Persia : but this I know. 
 
 That is not a Persian dress, and I think I ought to remember 
 At least the sound of the language. If you could find these men 
 And send them to me . . . 
 CHR. I will. They promised to wait for me. 
 
 They're not far off: I'll fetch them at once. 
 MEN. Stay ! ere you go — 
 
 I wanted to tell you, Chremes, I have quite made up my mind 
 Concerning the girl : my duty is plain enough, 
 CHR. What is it? 
 
212 The Feast of Bacchus. [Act III. 
 
 MEN. To adopt her : for if my son returns, to find her here 
 
 
 Under my care, protected and loved as I shall love her, "" 
 
 
 Will be a bond between us to make him forget the past. 
 
 
 My harshness and all ; while should he be killed or die abroad, — 
 
 
 Which God forbid — or never return, I have then no heir, 
 
 
 And the only consolation remaining to me in the world 
 
 
 Is the loving her, whom he would have made my daughter, and whom 
 
 
 I shall love like him. 
 
 
 CHR. You won't. 
 
 
 MEN. Why not? 
 
 
 CHR. I shall convince you 
 
 
 That you will do nothing of the sort. 
 
 
 MEN. Why not? 
 
 
 CHR. You wouldn't ask, 
 
 
 If you only knew what a creature she is. 
 
 
 MEN. You know her? 
 
 
 CHR. Ay. 
 
 
 MEN. But how? You never told me. 
 
 
 CHR. She is spending the day at my house. 
 
 
 'Twas this I was coming to tell you about, but the other matter ^'' 
 
 
 Had driven it out of my head. I thought to discover for you ^ 
 
 
 (Seeing you did not know) what kind of person she was ; 
 
 
 That I might judge and tell you, whether you most were wrong 
 
 
 In being at first so harsh to your son, or now to yourself. 
 
 
 So I asked her to spend the day at my house. It has ended in this, 
 
 
 That when I saw what kind of woman she really was. 
 
 
 I offered her forty pounds if she would renounce your son. 
 
 
 Believe me, she jumped at the bargain ; so then, to prevent mistake. 
 
 
 I made her sign a paper to that effect. I hold it. 
 
 
 It cost me forty pounds ; and that's the money I said, "" 
 
 
 That I had advanced for you. 
 
 
 MEN. 'Twas very kind of you, Chremes. 
 
 
 You see I am shocked. 
 
 
 CHR. Nay, don't give way. 
 
 
 MEN. You have dashed my hope. 
 
 
 I was not prepared for this. Freeborn I knew she was not ; ^ 
 
 
 B\it this I never suspected. 
 
 
 CHR. Come to my house and see. ' 
 
 
 I wish you to judge for yourself. 
 
 
 MEN. She is there? 
 
 
 CHR. She is there, do you ask? 
 
 III. i 
 
 Ay, to my cost she is there. No sooner she comes to the door, 
 
 47—52 
 
 Than all is to be. topsy-turvy. She calls me " old man ! " 
 
 
 Asks if the bath is ready, and presently calls for wine. 
 
 
 She'll take a "whetting brasher," she says. The quantity 
 
 
 She wasted in merely tasting was more than most men drink. ""*' 
 
 
 She kept me an hour on my legs before she was pleased, and then 
 
 
 Drank like a fish, and laughed at nothing and everything. 
 
 
 Had it not been for you, Menederaus, I promise you 
 I could not have stood it. 
 
 
 
 MEN. I feel extremely obliged to you. 
 
 
 And sorry for this. You have been most friendly in all you have done. 
 
 
 I cannot doubt you are right. But still whatever she is. 
 
 
Act III.] The Feast of Bacchus. 213 
 
 I'd like to see her once. I can't dine with you j — arrange 
 
 To send her across to me. Explain to her who I am ; 
 
 And let me judge for myself if it is so impossible 
 
 To carry out my former intention as you believe. ^'"'' 
 
 CHR. By all means. I shall be glad enough to be rid of her. 
 
 I go at once. 
 MEN. And find those Persians, whoever they are. 
 
 CHR. Indeed I must. For either I was grossly deceived 
 
 In a manner I cannot believe — I gave them money too — 
 
 Or else — 
 MEN. Well, lose no time, I pray : I am less at ease 
 
 In the matter now, than when you told me firsti 
 CHR. Indeed 
 
 I fear you have cause : I'll go at once. Farewell. [Exii. 
 
 MEN. Farewell. 
 
 A silly hoax no doubt. I wish 'twere half as likely 
 
 That Chremes was wrong about the girl. 'Tis very strange 
 
 That he should all of a sudden take such interest "^ 
 
 In my affairs. I think he's a. little meddlesome, 
 
 With all his kindness and thought. But that's .the way of the world. lExi/. 
 
 1 Enter CHREMES aitd PAMPHILUS. 
 
 CHR. See Gorgo at once, I say, and get it back if you can. 
 PAM. Why, father? 
 
 CHR. I'll tell you. Clinia your friend is dead. 
 
 PAM. Impossible. 
 CHR. No. I have seen two Persians just arrived, 
 
 Who say he was slain in battle. 
 PAM. Does old Menedemus know? 
 
 CHR. He does. 
 
 PAM. And how does he take it? 
 
 CHR. ■ Why? How should he take it? 
 
 PAM. How should I know? The cross old hunks. 
 CHR. Stop! Pamphilus. 
 
 You wrong him ; he's distracted ! and now in consequence, 
 
 He has made up his mind to adopt that woman. 
 PAM. Gorgo?' 
 
 CHR. Yes. "'» 
 
 How can you laugh? 
 PAM. Well, if he adopts her, what's the use 
 
 Of asking her for the money now? Menedemus will pay. 
 CHR. You do, please, as I say. Of course it's impossible 
 
 To adopt her : I intimated to him as much, but still 
 
 He wants to judge for himself. I promised to send her to him. 
 
 As soon as the ladies return from the bath explain this to her, 
 
 And take her across ; at least if I'm not back from town. 
 PAM. You go to the town? 
 CHR. I have promised to bring these Persians back ; 
 
 We wish to establish the news they brought. They half engaged 
 
 To await me here, but it seems they are gone. 
 PAM. .„ Can I go "for you? i»« 
 
 CHR. Ay, ay. Yet no. [aside). Nay, I shall have to explain to them 
 
214 Tke Feast of Bacchus. [Act IV. 
 
 That I am not Menedemus, — I fear I must go myself. 
 
 
 I think I shall not be long. You do as I told you, please; 
 
 
 And tell your mother where I am gone. 
 
 
 PAM. I hope you'll find them. 
 
 
 CHX. I shan't come back without 'em. [Exit. 
 
 
 PAM. {aside). Good-bye then, dad, for ever! 
 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 
 PAMPHIL US and CLINIA . , 
 
 
 PAM. 'Tis simply ruin, Clinia; pray come back at once. 
 
 
 Do wait till after dinner. 
 
 
 CLIN. I couldn't. 
 
 
 PAM. The governor 
 
 
 Will smoke it all if you go : 'twill break our party up. 
 
 
 CLIN. My father thinks I am killed. 
 
 
 PAM. What matter so you're not? 
 
 
 CLIN. He'll be so grieved. Indeed I can't consider your party. '°"' 
 
 
 PAM. You're most ungrateful. 
 
 
 CLIN. Nay indeed, good Pamphilus, 
 
 
 I am much obliged for all your kindness; I say so again. 
 
 
 But this I told you expressly I did not wish. 
 
 
 PAM. You've got 
 
 
 More than you ever hoped. Antiphila here : your father 
 
 
 Brought nicely round : and all through my good management. 
 
 
 And now you'll throw me over for want of a little patience. 
 
 
 CLIN. To be free with you, I do not like being half drawn in, as I am, 
 
 
 To tricking your father of fifty pounds. Besides I am here 
 
 
 Under a false name, as his guest. Antiphila too 
 
 
 Is passing off for somebody else, I know not who ; '"^ 
 
 
 While you and Philolaches have deceived your father and mine. 
 
 
 In a way that I cannot be party to. 
 
 
 PAM. Wait. Here comes my father. 
 
 
 I'll show you now what kmd of a temper I risk for you. 
 
 
 Enter CHREMES from town. 
 
 
 CHR. When ! back at last. When, when ! my word ! as hot as hot ! 
 
 
 When! bahl and all this worry and flurry for nothing: when! 
 
 
 I am covered and choked with dust. I wish most heartily 
 
 
 These Persians had found their grave at Chrysnotaparoys. 
 
 
 I vow that the famous army of Darius never gave 
 
 
 Such trouble to brave Miltiades at Marathon, 
 
 
 As these two rascally slinkers have given to me. Wheul When! ^'"''' 
 
 
 PAM. (advancing). Have you not found them, father? 
 
 
 CHR. If I have found them? No. 
 
 
 I went to the port ; the ship I found there sure enough. 
 
 
 But I could not hear of them. A single passenger, 
 
 
 They said, had landed ; and he was a Greek. I enquired besides 
 
 
 At all the houses along the road: there was not a man, 
 
 
 Who had even so much as seen them. 
 
 
Act IV.] The Feast of Bacchus. ai 
 
 5 
 
 SOST. 
 
 (within). Chremes ! Chremes ! 
 
 
 CffJi. 
 
 Ah! 
 
 
 
 Enter SOSTRA TA from Chremes'' house. 
 
 (For this 
 scene see 
 
 SOST. 
 
 O husband ! husband ! 
 
 IV. i.) 
 
 CHR. 
 
 wife ! wife ! 
 
 
 SQSh 
 
 She is found, she is found ! 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 Who's found? 
 
 
 SOST. 
 
 Our daughter, our long-lost daughter is found. 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 What now? 
 
 
 SOST. 
 
 Look ! this is the necklace, this the ring. 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 Why, what d'ye mean? 
 
 
 SOST. 
 
 See, husband, if you remember them ; they are the very same "*" 
 Our daughter Antiphila wore, the day she was stolen. 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 Hey! 
 What's this? 
 
 
 SOST. 
 
 I knew them at once. 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 Then tell me at once, when, 
 How, and where did you find them? 
 
 
 SOST. 
 
 The girl that Gorgo brought 
 Wore them. I knew them at once : and when I heard her name. . . . 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 Antiphila ? 
 
 
 SOST. 
 
 Yes, Antiphila. 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 Quite so. You heard the name ; 
 That made you think this girl our daughter : I'll wager my life 
 She's no such thing. 'Tis unsupposable. 
 
 
 SOST. 
 
 Dearest husband, 
 I always knew we should find her. I've said so a thousand times. 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 Oh yes ! you always knew beforehand of everything 
 
 After it happened, wife : there's nothing could occur '"so 
 
 But you would' tell me you told me before. And yet this time 
 
 Do not be wise too soon. 
 
 
 SOST. 
 
 Why, here's the ring itself. 
 The necklace and the name. 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 The name is a common name, 
 And rings and necklaces too are made so much alike, 
 They're nothing to go by. 
 
 
 SOST. 
 
 Then I have spoken to her, Chremes, 
 And she is so like her : — 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 Hey ! here's fine proof indeed ; 
 Just think for once now what you have said. You recognize 
 In a grown-up lady, you say, the baby you have never seen 
 Since she was three! Why even supposing she was not changed 
 In all these fifteen years, could you remember her '"lo 
 So long? 
 
 
 SOST. 
 
 But she is my daughter : that makes the difference. 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 Why that's the very question. Is she ? And if she was, 
 
 What difference could it make ? But if you have spoken with her. 
 
 Where does she say she comes from ? 
 
 
 SOST. 
 
 She says she lives in the town 
 With an old Corinthian widow ... ^ 
 
 
 CHR. 
 
 I know : the mother of Gorgo. 
 They live together, do they? Tlien just send Gorgo here. 
 
 
2l6 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 SOST. 
 CHR. 
 
 SOST. 
 CHR. 
 
 SOST. 
 CHR. 
 
 SOST. 
 
 CHR. 
 SOST. 
 
 CHR. 
 SOST. 
 
 CHR. 
 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 
 PAM. 
 
 CHR. 
 
 Indeed she has nothing to do with Gorgo. 
 
 According to that 
 There are two Corinthian widows. 
 
 Two? 
 
 Why not? I suppose 
 There must be two, unless it's the same. 
 
 But who is the other? 
 There isn't another at all. Bring Gorgo here at once. 
 She'll know enough of the facts to set this matter at rest. 
 Why, Chremes . . . 
 
 I say, fetch Gorgo. 
 
 I assure you, Chremes dear . . . 
 Do go and fetch her, wife. 
 
 Well, as you will. . . . 
 
 Of course. 
 Do I ever express an opinion, issue a command. 
 Without an ample reason? {Exit Sosirata). 
 
 'Twould be strange ! — [to Pam.). Now, sir, 
 Had you not heard of this ? 
 
 No, father. 
 
 And there you stand, _, 
 
 As dull as a, fish ! Why what will you thinlj, if this be true. 
 Of finding a sister? 
 
 Sir, you wished me a happy day : 
 As nothing was more unlocked for, nothing is happier 
 In the world than this. 
 
 Yet there's your friend, a perfect stranger. 
 Is far more moved than you. You go to the play, I know : 
 Fifty per cent, of all our attic comedies 
 Have this same plot, a daughter stolen in early years, 
 Lost sight of, despaired of, almost forgotten, and then at last. 
 When least expected — although there's scarce a soul in the house 
 That does not know or guess it beforehand — she reappears. 
 Then are not all eyes wet ? Why that's the poetic art, 
 Which makes emotion, and sells it to fools at market price. 
 You have pitied the child, have pictured the thousand possible ills 
 She may have encountered, hardships of body and mind, neglect, 
 The injuries and privations of slavery, wrongs and blows ; 
 The lack of all that care, to which, in a mother's love, 
 The meanest birth is titled, without which even brutes 
 Perish for lack of instinct : the tenderness of sex 
 You have thought of; her innocence, the snares of a merciless world 
 For the unprotected, and then this picture you contrast 
 With the comfortable, genteel home the scene presents. 
 You feel for the parents then — ay, though some ridicule 
 Ba fastened upon them ; 'tis by such touches of flesh and blood 
 The life comes home to your heart, and while you are made to smile. 
 You weep. You have paid for the tear, or if your false shame 
 Forbids you to shew your feeling, you've bought a lump in the throat. 
 You praise the play, because 'tis a tender situation, 
 Enough to stir the blood of a crocodile like yourself: 
 I catch you weeping — slap ! all's changed. 'Tis not a play : 
 The stage is y6ur home, the actors your father and mother, 
 
Act IV.] 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus 
 
 ii"] 
 
 Your own sister is found, and where's your feeling now ? 
 I think your heart is made of matting ! Your friend, I say, 
 Is far more moved : I see the tears stand in his eyes. 
 CLIN. 'Tis joy. I wish you joy, sir. I wish your daughter joy. '"" 
 
 And, may I say it, your happiness brings happiness to me. 
 CHR. I thank you, Clitipho ; but now we go too fast : 
 
 Because I don't at all suppose this is my daughter. 
 
 Ho! Gorgo! where's Gorgo? (goes to door). 
 
 CLIN, ifo Pam.). O Pamphilus, I am in heaven: 
 
 For if Antiphila really be your sister, then 
 My father cannot oppose our marriage. 
 PAM. No more will mine. 
 
 'Twill make him as. proud as a peacock. 
 CLIN. Sweetest Antiphila. 
 
 PAM. Quite so : but what in the world do you think will happen to me, 
 
 When he finds out? 
 CLIN. Oh, I have attained the life of the gods ! 
 
 PAM. Go on. You will not tell me now I have done too much? ^'^^ 
 
 CLIN. Oh no : I forgive it all. 
 PAM. Forgive it ? 
 
 CLIN. I thank you for it. 
 
 PAM. I shall need more than thanks. 
 CLIN. O Pamphilus, anything. 
 
 What can I give you ? 
 PAM. Listen. If things go well with you, 
 
 They're not so smart with me : and if you wish to help me, 
 I only see one hope. 
 CLIN. What's that ? 
 
 PAM, That you should win 
 
 Your father to plead for me : after all I have done for him, 
 I think he might : and if you ask him, I am sure he will. 
 Concealment is out of the question : go to him now at once, 
 And tell him all. 
 CLIN. Indeed \ was going ; but may I not see 
 
 Antiphila first? 
 PAM. No, no, there's not a moment to lose. iiw 
 
 The governor will be back, and if he finds you out. 
 You'll have to go to your father with him, and what a tale 
 He'll tell it's easy to guess. 
 CLIN. I would not consent to that. 
 
 I'll go at once. 
 PAM. Go quickly, before Gorgo comes. 
 
 Quick ! Quick ! lExit Clinia. 
 
 And just in time. I wonder what she will say. 
 CHR. {at the door to Gorgo"). I want you a moment, Gorgo. 
 
 Enter GORGO and CHREMES with SOSTRATA. 
 
 Prithee, be so good 
 As just to answer my questions. This girl Antiphila 
 Who came with you, is your maid? Don't look at my son and laugh. 
 I am serious. Is this girl your servant? 
 GOR. No. 
 
 iv. 3- IS 
 
ai8 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 CHR. She is not? 
 
 She lives with you? 
 GOR. No. 
 
 CHR. I thought you lived with the widow woman, 
 
 Who came from Corinth. Pray be sober. I want to know. 
 
 You told me you did. 
 GOR. Ay, sir. 
 
 CHR. And yet Antiphila 
 
 Does not live with you? 
 GOR. No, sir. 
 
 CHR. When did you see her first ? 
 
 GOR. This morning. 
 
 CHR. Indeed. And can you tell me nothing about her? 
 
 GOR. Nothing whatever, 
 
 CHR. I thank you. I've nothing to ask you then. 
 
 GOR. It's thank you for nothing, sir ! No further commands at present ? 
 CHR. Peace, prithee, peace ! 
 
 {to Sostrata). Now, wife, you see I was right for once. 
 
 Gorgo knows nothing about her. 
 SOST. I told you she didn't, Chremes. 
 
 CHR. But then you said she lived with the widow. You see she doesn't, 
 
 And Gorgo does. 
 SOST. I can't believe it. Antiphila told me 
 
 The widow's name ; and then the very clothes she wore ^ 
 
 The day she was,:stolen, she has laid by. 
 CHR. Eh ! said she so ? 
 
 Then you should have sent for the woman, told her to bring the clothes. 
 SOST. So, Chremes, I did, but the poor old lady's too ill to come : 
 
 But the clothes were sent. I have seen them. 
 CHR. And are they the same? 
 
 SOST. They are. 
 
 CHR. Why then did you not spare me all this trouble, wife? 
 
 Why did you not tell me before of the clothes? 
 SOST. You would not hear ! 
 
 CHR, Not hear ! when all the time I was asking you this and that. 
 
 Ye gods ! have ye never made one reasonable woman ? 
 
 Don't you see that the clothes are the chiefest matter of all ? 
 
 Why, they're a proof. 
 SOST. Then do you believe? i 
 
 CHR. Ay, wife, come in. 
 
 I think we have found our daughter. 
 GOR. Oho! ho! ho! 
 
 O he does make me laugh. 
 
 And when he finds all out, the silly old man, at last, 
 
 How I shall love to see him ! 
 PAM. Indeed you must not stay. 
 
 GOR. Why not? 
 
 PAM. Why don't you see how mad he'll be? 
 
 GOR. He will. 
 
 PAM. He'll want that forty pounds. 
 GOR. He may want. 
 
 PAM. I am afraid 
 
 You cannot keep it. 
 
 \Exeunt Sost. and Chr. 
 
Act IV.] The Feast of Bacchus. 219 
 
 GOR. I not keep it? What! d'ye think 
 
 
 I'd give it him back? 
 
 
 PAM. I think you had better make sure of it. 
 
 
 Take my advice and go. 
 
 
 GOR. I am sony to go, and yet 
 
 
 What should I stay for now? There'll be no dinner. 
 
 
 PAM. No, '2" 
 
 
 That there won't. 
 
 
 GOR. Well, make my excuses, and give your father 
 
 
 My kind congratulations. 
 
 
 PAM. Go ! 
 
 
 GOR. With the same to you. 
 
 
 Antiphila's quite a dove. 
 
 
 PAM. Do go ! 
 
 
 GOR. Goodbye, ray lad. 
 
 
 It's wisest to go, I see : but if the old man should ask 
 
 
 Where I am gone to . . . 
 
 
 PAM. Well ? 
 
 
 GOR. Why tell him I'm gone to spend 
 
 
 His forty pounds in the town. Ta ta ! [Exit. 
 
 
 PAM. I think that woman 
 
 
 Has done for me. Thank the gods she's gone, and just in time; 
 
 
 Here somebody comes from the house. 
 
 
 Enter PHILOLACHES from Chremes' house. 
 
 
 PH. Look out, Pamphilus ! 
 
 
 Your father is coming after you. * 
 
 
 PAM. He has found us out of course? 
 
 
 PH. He has guessed who Gorgo is ; but still is quite in the dark. 1220 
 
 
 He still imagines Clinia slain and torn to bits 
 
 
 On the plains of what d'ye call it. — 
 
 
 PAM. What is best to do ? 
 
 
 PH. Nothing. Let him rave it out. The quicker he heats. 
 
 
 The quicker he'll cool. 
 
 
 PAM. But if you had ever seen him angry . . . 
 
 
 PH. Don't be afraid. 
 
 
 PAM. I am. 
 
 
 PH. Throw all the blame on me. 
 
 
 PAM. I hear him. 
 
 
 Enter CHREMES, speaking as he comes out to SOSTRATA within. 
 
 
 CHR. It's high time, wife, you stopped this precious noise, 
 
 
 Deafening the gods with singing all your confounded praises 
 
 V. I 
 6 . . . 
 
 For finding your daughter. You judge them by yourself perhaps. 
 
 And think they can't understand a simple thing, unless 
 
 
 It's told them a hundred times. 
 
 \to Pam.\ Now, sir, 'tis you I want. rao 
 
 
 
 Come here. 
 
 
 PAM. What, father? 
 
 
 CHR. What, father? As innocent 
 
 
 As milk, no doubt. You think it's possible I do not know? 
 
 
 I'll tell you what : to-day I have found a daughter, sir, 
 
 
 And lost a son. Begone and take your Gorgo with you : 
 
 
220 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 V. iv. 
 
 lO — II 
 
 Cp. IS 
 
 — 20 
 
 For I'll not own you longer. Be off! Go where you will; 
 
 But see you ne'er set foot beneath my roof again. 
 PAM. Father, [what do you Mean? What have I done? 
 CHR. " You dare 
 
 Ask ! If I tell you now that you are a reprobate, 
 
 An idle, dissipated, licentious, spendthrift fellow : — 
 
 Is that enough? 
 PAM. O father ! 
 
 CHR. Or if I add the rest, "" 
 
 A mean, deceitful, undutiful, snivelling, sneaking cheat ; 
 
 A liar. 
 PAM. Oh, I am not. 
 CHR. Well, you deny it, do you? 
 
 I'll ask you is this true or not. You found that I, 
 
 With a view to help our neighbour, wished to see the girl 
 
 That got his son into trouble. You undertook to bring her. 
 
 I trusted you w^hoUy, could not expect to be played on by you ; 
 
 You knew her, and I did not, had never heard her name ; 
 
 And this you knew, and took occasion to introduce 
 
 A different person altogether, a friend of your own, 
 
 A woman whose very presence was an- insult; and not content '^*' 
 
 With abusing my confidence and kindness, my sheer disgust 
 
 You turned to your own account, and so, on a mock pretence 
 
 Of doing my neighbour a wonderful service, made me pay 
 
 I don't know what. You blinded me, and robbed me, and all the while 
 • 'Twas your vile mistress I was entertaining for you, 
 
 And paying out of my pocket for nothing. Is that not true? 
 
 Was it not enough to have this creature sit down to dine 
 
 With your mother and me ? ay, and with your sister ? and as for her, 
 
 You have been the means of aspersing hei character, 
 
 The day when she is restored to the family. Yes, 'tis she '^^ 
 
 Is the lady in question, and I have been running here and there'' 
 
 To diffame my own daughter to my neighbour, and thanks to you 
 
 Have been a pretty fool ! And if his son returns, — 
 
 For now I am so confused that whether he's living or dead 
 
 I have not a notion,— but if, I say, he should return. 
 
 And ask Antiphila's hand, would then Menedemus believe 
 
 That I did not tell him the truth before I knew any cause 
 
 To wish for one thing more than another? I say be off! 
 
 Ask me what you've done? A treasure of innocence 
 
 You are ! Begone ! I'll never see you again. Begone ! ^^^ 
 
 PH. For patience' sake, one word from me, sir ! Pamphilus 
 
 Wa^ not so much in fault ; I am the one to blame : 
 
 He truly intended to introduce Antiphila ; 
 
 And I was sent to fetch her : but when it appeared her friends 
 
 Would not consent to allow that you should interfere 
 
 Between Menedemus and her, then, on the spur of the moment, 
 
 The ladies were changed, and that at my suggestion, sir. 
 CHR, I interfere, you say? 'Tis you that interfere, 
 
 I think. Pray hold your tongue ; or if you wish to advise, 
 
 Advise your friend again : he needs it more , than I ; '^^ 
 
 Maybe he'll thank you for it. I neither ask nor want it. 
 
Act IV.] The Feast of Bacchus. 221 
 
 {Enter SOS TR ATA.) 
 
 
 {to PAM.). To you, sir, I have no more to add. Begone at once ! 
 
 
 'Twill spare your sister pain, if she should never know you ; 
 
 
 Not that there's aught to lose. Now, if there is anything 
 
 
 You want in the house, go in at once and fetch it. Look, 
 
 
 I'll give you half-an-hour. 
 
 
 SOST. Chremes, what are you saying? 
 
 
 CffR. I have only said, wife, what I told you ; and you may now 
 
 
 Bid your dear Pamphilus good-bye. 
 
 
 SOST. How cruel you are ! 
 
 V. ilj. 
 
 Do you wish to kill your son? You'll certainly be his death, 
 
 I — II 
 
 Unless you mind. I wonder how anything so wicked i™" 
 
 
 Could have come into your head. 
 
 
 CHR. Oh, will you never learn 
 
 
 To keep your place, woman? Was there ever a thing 
 
 
 Which I ever proposed or did in my whole life, in which 
 
 
 You did not go against me? But should I ask you now 
 
 
 What wrong I am doing, or why I do the thing I do. 
 
 
 You would not know : you could not tell me anything 
 
 
 Of the matter in which so confidently you oppose me. Fool ! 
 
 
 SOST. I do not know? 
 
 
 CHR. Well,' well, you do know. Anything 
 
 
 Rather than have it all over again. 
 
 
 SOST. , How iniquitous of you. 
 
 
 To prevent my speaking in such a matter ! 
 
 
 CHR. I don't prevent you. """ 
 
 
 
 Go on ! Talk yourself hoarse. [Exit. 
 
 
 PAM. Mother, what shall I do? 
 
 
 SOST. What did he say? 
 
 
 PAM. He says he disowns me. 
 
 
 SOST. Don't give way. 
 
 
 He is angry now : I know he'll soon be kind again. 
 
 
 PH. Quite so, madam ; a father's threats are nothing to fear. 
 
 
 PAM. I am glad you think so. 
 
 
 PH. Don't be angry with me, Pam ! 
 
 
 I've got you into a mess, but if you'll trust to me. 
 
 
 I'll get you out. 
 
 
 SOST. How kind of you, Mr. Philogelos ! 
 
 
 PH. Take my advice and hide. Pretend you have run away. 
 
 
 I'll say you've sailed to the Persian wars in Clinia's ship. 
 
 
 And when your father finds that Clinia is safe, and he mo 
 
 
 Demands Antiphila's hand, the rest will be all forgotten. 
 
 
 SOST. Is Antiphila to marry Clinia? 
 
 
 PH. Yes, ma'am. 
 
 
 SOST. Menedemus' son. 
 
 
 That ran away? 
 
 
 PH. Yes, ma'am. 
 
 
 SOST. Why, Chremes said he was killed. 
 
 
 PH. It's all a mistake ; you've spoken to him to-day yourself : 
 
 
 He is Clitipho. 
 
 
 SOST. dear! I must tell Chremes this. 
 
 
 How glad I am ! 
 
 
222 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 PH. Stay, madam, stay ; I pray you woi%'t. 
 
 Your husband will find that out quite soon enough for us. 
 
 Far better see Menedemus, if he will help us out. ' 
 
 What could he do? 
 
 He'll stand our friend. How could he wish 
 To see Antiphila's brother driven disgraced from home? ^^ 
 
 Go, Pamphilus, go at once ! 
 
 Clinia is there; I will. 
 And can I then tell Chremes? 
 
 Madam, consider this : 
 He won't believe you, and after will only be angry with you 
 For knowing it first, and being in the right when he was wrong. 
 'Tis all so strange, that really and truly I don't suppose 
 That any one would believe it. It may be best to wait. 
 But you should waste no time, Pamphilus ; go at once. 
 I go, but do not tell him where I am gone. 
 
 No, son. [Exit Pain. 
 
 I'll do my best to win him. {fo Ph.) I thank you, sir, very kindly. 
 I wish you good success. \JExit Sostrata. 
 
 A sensible body. I learf ^sso 
 
 On her and old Menedemus. Not that I doubt myself; 
 I know a stroke to play : is't not the feast of Bacchus ? 
 I will invoke the god ; his genius will confound 
 This dull, contrary Chremes. What's his humour worth 
 To gods or men, that I should bow to it? Nay, and since 
 Whate'er the humour be, 'tis the persistency 
 That carries it ; to hell with dumps ! 'Twere poor merriment 
 That Chremes' frown could dash. Why if there be a choice 
 'Twixt Chremes pleased and Chremes angry, of the two 
 This latter, angry Chremes is the more ridiculous. "*' 
 
 SOST. 
 PH. 
 
 SOST. 
 
 PAM. 
 
 SOST. 
 
 PH. 
 
 SOST. 
 
 PAM. 
 SOST. 
 
 PH. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 MENEDEMUS and CLINIA. 
 
 MEN. You have made me, my dear Clinia, the very happiest of fathers, 
 By this return to your senses ; indeed I ran great risk 
 Of taking leave of my own : but since I have you back, 
 'Tis nothing but happiness : and gladly I now consent , 
 
 To the match, which hitherto in your own interest 
 I have only opposed because I would not have you marry 
 A woman not freebom. To be sure I could have wished 
 'Twas somebody else's daughter than Chremes'. After all 
 It might be worse. But are you sure you hold to it still, 
 And wish to marry her? 
 
 CLIN. I, father? How can you ask? 
 
 MEN. You are young to marry; but, mind, I should not make your age 
 An objection, provided I thought you knew what marriage is. 
 But do you, can you know? You have only experience 
 Of childhood, and some few years of youthful liberty : 
 What can that teach ? Your tie to me, your friendships, — 
 
 IV. 8 
 1—3 
 
Act v.] 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 2,23 
 
 Some intimate friendships too : but nothing here nor there 
 
 Comparable to the bond of marriage. Suppose I say 
 
 'Tis, next to existence, the most familiar thing in the world : — 
 
 Then judge how jealous pride and self-regard should be, 
 
 Ere they admit this master circumstance to rule, 
 
 As rule it must. You know the story Plato tells 
 
 Of Er, the Armenian soldier, and what he saw in death. 
 
 Permitted to stand between the gates of heaven and hell; 
 
 How there he saw the souls, who, ere they came on earth, 
 
 Were choosing each their lives in turn — and, what was strange, 
 
 How wantonly and without deliberation they chose. 
 
 Making a rush at what they fancied first : and this, • 
 
 So Plato said, explained man's discontent on earth. 
 
 His misery being his fault. All which, be it fable or no, 
 
 Clinia, has this much truth ; that you may see the like 
 
 Without going down to the grave, nor any revelation 
 
 Of nature's secrecies — but every day on earth. 
 
 In men that wive. With them the stake is no less great ; 
 
 Their carelessness in choice, their after-discontent 
 
 Match each in kind. Now I would play the interpreter 
 
 To you, as some celestial did to Er: I warn you. 
 
 Take not this step in haste. You choose a. second being: 
 
 The lives are strewn before you : is this the best to take ? 
 
 CLIN. O if you knew Antiphila, father, you would not ask. 
 
 MEN. Very well. I see your choice is made. I only wish 
 She did not drink. 
 
 CLIN. O father ! you know — 
 
 MEN. Yes, yes. I know. 
 
 What a number of sad mistakes Chremes has made to-day ! ^ 
 He has not discovered yet who the two Persians were, 
 Who came to frighten me. 
 
 CLIN. I hope I need not tell you, father, 
 
 I never wished that done. I feared you might be grieved : 
 But Chremes being so sure you never would forgive me . . . 
 
 MEN. Was he? 
 
 CLIN. He said you told him. 
 
 MEN. Did he? He has been to blame. 
 
 There's much he will have to explain to me, which he will not wish 
 
 Another to hear. Retire to the garden, while I go 
 
 And smooth things over with him, and ask his daughter's hand. 
 
 CLIN. How long? 
 
 MEN. Well, if I send, be ready at once to come : 
 
 And see that Pamphilus too is handy : explain to him, 
 
 That if I can be happy enough to make his peace with his father. 
 
 His presence will then be needed. 
 
 CLIN. I hope it will not be long. 
 
 MEN. I am not very wise myself or clever, that I know : 
 
 And I may have behaved in a manner open to criticism, 
 
 I may have even provoked derision, that may be ; 
 
 I think I have. But this same would-be helper of mine, 
 
 My counsellor and guide, Chremes, is very far beyond me. 
 
 I never did anything half so foolish in all my life 
 
 As to trust my secrets to him. In time now ; here he comes. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 V. I, 
 I — 2 
 
224 Tkk Feast of Bacchus. [Act V. 
 
 Enter CHREMES. 
 
 
 CHR. Ah, my good Menedemus, now I have news indeed.: 
 
 (For this 
 
 MEN, I know it, Chremes, and give you my hearty congratulations. - 
 
 scene cp. 
 IV. viij.) 
 
 'Tis a happy day for us both : for your have found a daughter. 
 
 And I . . . 
 
 
 CHR. You know it already? Who told you? 
 
 
 MEN. My son. 
 
 
 CHR. Your son 1 
 
 
 MEN. Clinia. Yes. He is- in my house. I was coming across 
 
 
 To ask you to join your treasure so newly found with mine : 
 
 
 And to give your daughter to-day to my son in marriage. 
 
 
 CHR. Well ! 
 
 
 I cannot understand it. Where did he come from? When? 
 
 
 MEN. Why that's the strangest of all : he landed only this morning, i«» 
 
 
 Met your son in the town; and has been in your house 
 
 
 Ever since. 
 
 
 CHR. My house? 
 
 
 MEN. It seems your son is a friend of his : 
 
 
 He introduced him, but under another name, because 
 
 
 He did not wish to be known. 
 
 
 CHR. Not Clitipho? 
 
 
 MEN. Ay, 'twas that. 
 
 
 CHR. There then ! how I hav^ been deceived ! And you were right 
 
 
 About the Persians too : they were a make-believe. 
 
 
 MEN. So I guessed all along, Chremes. 
 
 
 CHR. But who then were they? 
 
 
 MEN. Forgive me, my good friend, I ask you once for all. 
 
 
 The annoyance my family affairs have been to you to-day. 
 
 
 Your kindness has brought you only vexation. 
 
 
 CHR. 0, I am sure i«» 
 
 
 You are welcome enough to any service that I can render. 
 
 
 MEN. Then pray oblige me in this, and overlook the folly 
 
 
 Of the actors in this farce. The intention was to deceive 
 
 
 Me and not you : till you accidentally, as it seems, , 
 
 
 Came in their way : and then they could not help themselves : 
 
 
 They even tried to avoid you. 
 
 
 CHR. Who were they? 
 
 
 MEN. Remember too 
 
 
 'Tis the feast of Bacchus to-day ; 'tis not so great a crime 
 
 
 To droll on a private person, at a time that is set apart 
 
 
 For mirth and jollity, and when buffoonery too makes up 
 
 
 A part of the festival. 
 
 
 CHR. I think no gentleman iMo 
 
 
 Should suffer buffoonery to cover an insult. 
 
 
 MEN. Supposing not, 
 
 
 Yet none was intended. 
 
 
 CHR. Who were they? 
 
 
 MEN. The deceit was planned for me, 
 
 
 And I forgive it. 
 
 
 CHR. Who were they? 
 
 
 MEN. They came from your house. 
 
 
 CHR. Not Clinia? 
 
 
Act v.] The Feast of Bacchus. 225 
 
 MEN'. No ; although it was done in his interest. 
 
 Your son was one, and a friend . . . 
 CHR. I know: Philolaches. 
 
 I see, 
 MEN. It seems they had drawn from you, I Itnow not how, 
 
 Somewhat too harsh a picture of me : so 'twas resolved 
 
 To put me to proof. 
 CHR. Menedemus, since 'twas my own son, • '"" 
 
 It does not matter ; for now my account with him is closed. 
 MEN. What say you? 
 CHR. Well, never mind. He is now no more my son. 
 
 Menedemus, indeed he has treated me shamefully. 
 This morning I thought your son had acted ill by you : 
 How willingly now I'd change. 
 
 MEN. You make too much of it. 
 
 No harm was meant ; and none has been done : a foolish hoax. 
 
 And nothing more. 
 CHR. You cannot hope to persuade me now 
 
 There is any excuse for a son deceiving his own father. 
 MEN. I think a father would find one, Chremes, where there was none. 
 CHR. Nay, nay : no more of him. I understand you came 
 
 About my daughter. 
 MEN. I did. Clinia asks her hand. 
 
 CHR. You know she is not that woman they made me think . . . 
 MEN. 1 know. """ 
 
 CHR. Menedemus, I never wished to have a daughter. I thought 
 
 A girl was a. burden, the worst possession a man could have j 
 
 Costly to rear, costly to keep, costly to get rid of. 
 
 It seems I was wrong. I have had a daughter, who from her cradle 
 
 Has never cost me a single penny, and the very hour 
 
 She is thrown on my hands, she has offers of marriage. 'Tis not for me 
 
 To hinder the kindness of heaven. You are welcome to take her. Yet 
 
 1 have one condition : the dowry. 
 MEN. Certainly: about that 
 
 We shall not quarrel however. My son will be rich : and you 
 
 Will give as you think is fit. 
 CHR. I still shall insist on terms. i^" 
 
 You will not oppose a project of mine? 
 MEN. I promise not ; 
 
 Consider it settled : and now let us put the business off, 
 
 And bring the two young lovers happily face to face. 
 
 I long to see Antiphila. 
 CHR. Wait. I'll call my wife, [goes to L. 
 
 And tell her to bring her out. 
 MEN. And I will call my son. ]^oes to R. 
 
 (calling) Clinia ! 
 
 
 Enter CLINIA. 
 
 CUN. Father ! 
 
 
 MEN. Come ! 
 
 Is Pamphilus there? 
 
 CLIN. 
 
 He is. 
 
 MEN. Let him be ready. 
 
 
2,26 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Enter SOSTRATA and ANTIPHILA. 
 
 CHR. See here, Menedemus, my daughter. 
 
 MEN. And mine. 
 
 My dear Antiphila, I fear you have heard hard tales of me : 
 
 I have therefore the greater pleasure in bringing you, now^ we meet. 
 
 The joy I have stood in the way of. I have asked your good father "'' 
 
 To grant your hand to my son in marriage: he has consented. 
 
 So here is ^Clinia. Let me join your hands — for ever. 
 
 Be happy. 
 SOST. {aside). The dear old man ; see how jhe weeps for joy. 
 CHR. You will not deny me ' now, Menedemus, I'm sure : you'll come 
 
 And spend what is left of the day at my house. You will dine with us? 
 MEN. With all my heart. You have not presented me to your wife. 
 
 I beg . . . 
 CHR. Come, Sostrata, come and make your compliments 
 
 To our new relation. 
 MEN. Your servant, madam. 
 
 SOST. O sir, I am glad 
 
 My Antiphila will have your son for a husband. 
 MEN. I am very proud 
 
 Of such a daughter-in-law. But now, if I may ask, '** 
 
 Where is your son Pamphilus? He should not be absent now. 
 CHR. Don't ask for him. 
 
 SOST. I beseech you speak with my husband, sir. 
 
 CHR. I beg, Menedemus, you'll say no more. I have cast him off. 
 MEN. I still shall venture to plead his forgiveness. 
 CHR. 'Tis too late. 
 
 I have sent him off already : he sis gone. 
 MEN. Not so ; he is here. 
 
 (calls) Pamphilus! (to Chrenies). Do not blame me: I promised to plead for 
 him. 
 
 Enter PAMPHILUS. 
 
 CHR. How dare you again appear in my presence, wretch? Be off! 
 
 I tell you that I disown you. Yes, Menedemus, and you 
 
 Will not attempt, I beg, to avert the punishment 
 
 He more than deserves. I have cast him away and cut him off. i*'" 
 
 My whole fortune I leave to Antiphila — that is the thing 
 
 1 said I should ask — you promised not to oppose me: now 
 
 I beg you will not. 
 MEN. Consider if you are wise. 
 
 CHR. ^ Not wise? 
 
 SOST. O you are very unwise! 
 CHR. Wife ! 
 
 SOST. Why he is your son ! 
 
 CHR. Extremely kind of you to say so ! there's not a doubt in the world 
 
 He is yours : but were I you, I should not be very vain. 
 
 Being mirrored in such u cub. 
 SOST. O Chremes, your own son ! 
 
 CHR. Not were he twice my son, and sprung from my head, as they say 
 
 Minerva was from Jove's, would I own him. 
 
 V. iiji 
 l6 etc. 
 
 V. iv. 12 
 
Act v.] Feast of Bacchus. 22 
 
 7 
 
 PAM, Consider, sir, 
 
 
 My mother's feelings, although you do not consider me. 
 
 V. ii. 
 
 CHR. I do not consider you, sir? In all I have done, I have kept "™ 
 
 7-19 
 
 You and your follies in view : considering what you are ' 
 
 • • • 
 
 I thought you would rather think I considered you too much. 
 
 
 I consider you reckless, sir; I consider that you pursue 
 
 
 Your pleasure and vulgar tastes. I consider you quite unfit 
 
 
 To be trusted with money, and so I have hit on a plan, by which 
 
 
 You'll be, I consider, spared thp trouble of managing it ; 
 
 
 And though not launched on the world as I'd wish to see my son, 
 
 
 You'll be, I consider, ensured from absolute destitution. 
 
 
 Ijnable to leave you my wealth, I turn to those that are next, "'" 
 
 
 To them I do not shrink from entrusting it ; and I consider. 
 
 
 That at their house, Pamphilus, you will always find at least 
 
 
 A refuge, food and clothes, and a roof above your head. 
 
 
 PAM. Good God ! 
 
 
 CHR. Don't swear. — 'Tis better than that you should be my heir. 
 
 
 And Gorge squander it. Eh, sir? 
 
 
 PAM. 0, I wish I was dead. 
 
 
 CHR. First learn what 'tis to live ; when you know that, if life 
 
 
 Displease you still, then wish to die. 
 MEN. Chremes, allow me 
 
 . . . 
 
 
 To urge you in this. You could not really wish him to go 
 
 
 To Persia, say, and forsake you, as Clinia did me. 
 
 V.I, 
 
 CHR. Forsake me ! why let him go to perdition for all I care, "'" 
 
 55 
 
 Rather than stay at home and drag his father down 
 
 
 To beggary with his vices and follies : for if I once 
 
 
 / Were saddled with his expenses, I guess 'twould come very soon 
 
 
 To my using that spade of yours, Menedemus, in good earnest. 
 
 
 MEN. You offered me your advice this morning : now I in turn . . . 
 
 
 CHR. I do not need advice. 
 
 
 MEN. Spoil not so happy a day. 
 
 
 CHR. I have found a daughter to-day, Menedemus, but lost a son. 
 
 
 MEN. You have lost your daughter to me, let me restore your son. 
 
 
 SOST. do forgive him, Chremes ; you must. 
 
 
 CHR. Pray, silence, wife. 
 
 
 CLIN. Me, sir, you cannot blame for taking a brother's part. I'^o 
 
 
 His fault was partly mine : and what was wrongly done 
 
 
 Was done in my behalf. 
 
 
 CHR. No, no, there's no excuse. 
 
 
 Enter PHILOLACHES as a Persian. 
 
 
 MEN. Why here's our friend the Persian. 
 
 
 CHR. Pray, sir, what will you? « 
 
 
 PH. I hear you have been enquiring for me in the town.^ Behold me ! 
 
 
 CHR. I do not want you now : I know, sir, who you are. 
 
 
 The game is all played out. We have done with masquerades. 
 
 
 And personating others. 
 
 
 PH. I may take it then I address 
 
 
 Chremes, and not Menedemus ? 
 
 
 CHR. You do, sir, and be so kind 
 
 
 As now to restore me the money, which under a false pretence 
 
 
 You made me give you to-day. 
 
 
228 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 PH. 
 CHR. 
 
 PH. 
 
 MEN. 
 ANT. 
 CHR. 
 
 ANT. 
 CHR. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 CHR. 
 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 MEN. 
 
 CHR. 
 
 MEN. 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 MEN. 
 CHR. 
 PAM. 
 SOST. 
 CHR. 
 MEN. 
 SOST. 
 
 PAM. 
 CHR. 
 
 SOST. 
 
 PAM. 
 
 'Tis not the Persian custom. 
 You and your Persian customs be hanged, sir ; and I believe 
 You're more than half to blame for all the impertinence 
 I have suffered to-day. 
 
 I am, sir ; I came to make the confession ; 
 But if you know it already, why do you spite your son ? 
 I have been your guest to-day, and if I have overstrained 
 The liberty of the feast, I am ready in turn to pay 
 The penalty. In the name of Bacchus, disown and cast off me, 
 Disinherit me if you will. But him, your flesh and blood, 
 Pity and forgive. 
 
 Yes, Chremes. 
 
 father, do give in ! 
 
 Now that's the first time, lass, you have called me father. I see 
 I shall have to yield. 
 
 O thank you. 
 
 Stay. If I do give in, 
 'Tis only on two conditions. 
 
 I'll answer for Pamphilus, 
 That he'll accept them : what are they ? 
 
 First, my forty pounds ; 
 To get that back from Gorgo. 
 
 1 can't do that. 
 
 You can't? 
 You spent that money, Chremes, advanced it rather for me, 
 Thinking to do me a service. I'll ask you let it be me 
 Who does it for you. I'll gladly pay it : it is not lost. 
 Consider this condition fulfilled. 
 
 You are kinder far 
 To my boy than he has deserved. 
 
 And what is the other matter? 
 This. He must marry. 
 
 Father ! 
 
 I will not hear a word. 
 I'll vouch for him that he will do it. 
 
 He does not say so himself. 
 No use, — impossible. 
 
 Can you hesitate, Pamphilus? 
 Nay, let him do as he likes. 
 
 He'll do it — everything. 
 This must seem strange at first and disagreeable, 
 Before you have even thought of it. When you know more of it. 
 You'll like it. 
 
 I will, father. 
 
 Good ! son : for though a wife 
 Is an evil, she is a necessary evil, and one to which 
 You will get accustomed in time. 'Tis more respectable too 
 To be married ; and the only cure for a temper such as yours. 
 I'll help you choose, my dear Pamphilus ; I know who — 
 That clever, charming girl, whom you'll be in love with directly ; 
 The orphan niece of our old neighbour, Phanocrates. 
 What, not that red-haired thing, with a mouth from ear to ear. 
 And a little knob of a nose. I couldn't. 
 
 (Compare 
 last scene 
 ofTer. 
 
Act v.] 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 229 
 
 CHS. Why only see 
 
 How nice he has grown : it's plain lie means what he says now. 
 SOST. Why, I'm sure, Pamphilus, she is a pinnacle of perfection. 
 
 But I know another. 
 PAM. No, no ; if I am to marry, be hanged ! 
 
 I'll choose for myself, I know of a girl will do very well. 
 SOST. Who is it ? 
 PAM. Archonides' daughter. 
 
 SOST. You could not have pleased me more. 
 
 CHR. My word ! I do believe my wife and I are agreed 
 
 On something at last. O wonderful day ! 
 SOST. Chremes, I knew 
 
 'Twould end like this. 
 CHR. Now, wife ! none of your prophecies. 
 
 Come in, come all to dinner. 
 PAM. Philolaches was asked; 
 
 May he come too? 
 CHR. Oh yes ! if it's the Persian custom. 
 
 I'll bear no grudge to-day ; come in, sir, with the test. 
 
 And help to make us merry. This is the Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 
 NOTE I. {chiefly from first edition). 
 
 This attempt to give Menander to the english stage is based upon his Heautontimorumenos as we know 
 it through Terence. That play, though marked by roman taste, is a work of high excellence ; but as it stands 
 would be unpresentable to a christian audience, chiefly on account of the story o/Antiphila's exposure, which must 
 deprive Chremes of sympathy. And, since the liberties which Terence took with Menander cannot be detertnitud, 
 it was but mannerly to extend the necessary alteration, and suppress the slaves with their tedious and difficult 
 intrigue. Thus altered, only about one-sixth of the latin original remains ; and the play is perhaps not so sound 
 in plot as Terence made it, and is still weighted with the badness of his Bacchis [Gorgo] ; but it has the advantage 
 of being more easily followed. The construction of the modern stage required the opening change. All that is beauti- 
 ful in Terence, and therefore possibly most of what was Menander's, has been carefully preserved ; attd some extant 
 fragments of his have also found a lodging. 
 
 The metre is a line of six stresses, written according to rules of english rhythm ; and its correspondence with the 
 latin comic trimeter iambic is an accident. Whatever a stress may carry, it should never be made to carry more 
 than one \o-ng syllable with it, — the comic vein allowing some license as to what is reckoned as long ; — but as there 
 are no conventional, or merely metric stresses (except sometimes tn the sixth place ; and in the third, when the mid- 
 verse break usual in english six-stressed verse is observed, or that plcue is occupied by a proper name,) the accom- 
 panying long and short syllables may have very varied relation of position with regard to their carrying stress.' 
 Where more than four short unstressed syllables come together, a stress is distributed or lost ; and in some conditions 
 of rhythm this may occur when only four short syllables come together ; and this distributed stress occurs very 
 readily in the second, fouHh, and fifth places. Such at least seem some of the rhythmic laws, any infringement of 
 which must be regarded as a fault or liberty of writing: and the best has not been made of the metre, A natural 
 emphasising of the sense gives all the rhythm that is intended. 
 
230 
 
 The Feast of Bacchus. 
 
 The author thinks that so much explanation is due to the reader, because the verse is new. He has been told that 
 it will be said by the critics to be prose ; but that if it were printed as prose, they might pronounce it to be verse : 
 and this is the effect aimed at; since a comic metre which will admit colloquial speech without torturing it must 
 have such a loose varying rhythm. 
 
 The marginal refereiues are to Bentley's Terence. Where only single lines or expressions are taken, reference is 
 not always given. Dots in the margin mean that the translation is continued to next reference, or to the dash in 
 the margin, which is put to signify the end of the translation. 
 
 NOTE II. {from Montaign^s essays, \l.&). 
 
 Feu M. le Mareschal de Monluc, ayant perdu son filz qui mourut en I'IsIe de Maderes, brave Gentil-homme 
 ^ la verity et de grande esperance, me faisoit fort valoir entre ses autres regrets, le desplaisir et creve-coeur qu'il 
 sentoit de ne s'estre jamais communique k luy : et sur cette humeur d'une gravity et grimace patemelle, avoir 
 perdu la comnjodit^ de gouster et bien cognoistre son filz ; et aussi de luy declarer I'extreme amiti^ qu'il luy 
 portoit, et le digne jugement qu'il faisoit de sa vertu. " Et ce pauvre garjon, disoit-il, n'a rien veu de moy 
 qu'une contenance refroignee et pleine de mespris ; et a emport^ cette creance, que je n'ay sceu ny I'aimer ny 
 I'estimer selon son raerite. A qui guardoy-je b. descouvrir cette singuliere aflfection que je luy portoy dans mon 
 ame ? Estoit-ce pas lay qui en devoit avoir tout le plaisir et toute 1' obligation? Je me suis contraint et gehenne 
 pour maintenir ce vain masque : et y ay perdu le plaisir de sa conversation, et sa volonte quant et quant, qu'il 
 ne me pent avoir portee autre que bien froide, n'ayant jamais receu de moy que rudesse, ny senti qu'une fa9on 
 tyrannique. " Je trouve cette plainte estoit bien prise et raisonable. It surprises me that Montaigne does not in 
 this place refer to Menedemus. In the tenth essay, Des Livres, he writes thus of Terence : Quant au bon Terence, 
 la mignardise, et les graces du langage latin, je le trouve admirable a representor au vif les mouvemens de I'ame, 
 et la condition de nos moeurs : k toute heure nos actions me rejettent a luy : Je ne le puis lire si souvent que je 
 n'y treuve quelque beaute et grace nouvelle. ... Sa gentilesse et sa mignardise nous retiennent par tout. II 
 est partout si plaisant, Liquidus, puroqiie simillimus amni, et nous remplit tant I'ame de ses graces, que nous en 
 oublions celles de sa fable. 
 
 NOTE III. 
 
 The text is a reprint of Mr. DanieVs edition, with the foil, corrections. Dan. p. 22. /. 22. PH. should have 
 been PAM.—f. i^,. I. 5. CLIN...CHR—HS. IJ. this...his—Ji. 13. this. ..the— So. 11. CHR...CLIN—%\. submit 
 ...admit— Si. for — ever...— forever. — 88. 24. my...your. Alterations are made in lines 187. 321. 563. 6l2. 682. 
 932. 1016. 1050. 1062. 1068. 1082, 3. 1127, 8. II77. 1218, 9. 1337. 1495. 1547, 9. 1574. of this edition. 
 
 R. B. 1894. 
 
By tlie same Author, in this series, price 2s. 6d. each. 
 
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