MEN. S. (startled). Good Lord, no; it's mine! MEN. I'm a Sicilian-a Syracusan. MEN. S. That's my city and my country, too. MEN. What's that you tell me? MES. (half to himself, as he scans MENÆCHMUS). This is the man I know, of course; this is my master. I'm really his slave, but I fancied (glancing at MENÆCHMUS SOSICLES) I was his. (To MENÆCHMUS) I thought he was you, sir, and what's more, I made myself a nuisance to him, too. (To MENÆCHMUS) I beg your pardon, sir, if I said anything silly to you without realising it. MEN. S. (sharply). You talk like an idiot. Do you not remember coming ashore along with me to-day? MES. (hurriedly). To be sure, you're right. It's you who are my master. (To MENÆCHMUS) You seek another slave. (To MENÆCHMUS SOSICLES) Good day to you, sir. (TO MENÆCHMUS) Good-bye to you, sir. I say this gentleman (indicating his master) is Menæch mus. MEN. But I say I am. MEN. S. (irritated). What yarn is this? You are Menæchmus? MEN. So I say-the son of Moschus. MEN. S. You are the son of my father? MEN. No indeed, sir,-of my own: your father I have no desire to pre-empt or steal from you. MES. (aside, after apparently profound thought). Ye immortal gods! Fulfil the unhoped-for hope I think I see before me! Yes, unless my mind deceives me, these two are the twin brothers! Yes, what they say about their country and father tallies exactly. I'll call my master aside. Menæchmus, sir! ΜΕΝ. MEN. S. What do you want? MES. I don't want both of you, but the one that travelled on board ship with me. MEN. I did not. MEN. S. But I did. MES. You're the one I want, then. (Withdrawing) Come over here, sir. MEN. S. (doing so). Here I am. What is it? MES. (very sagacious and important). That man over there is either a swindler, sir, or else he's your own twin brother. For I never did see two men more alike. No drop of water, no drop of milk, is more like another, believe me, than he's like you, yes, and you like him, sir. And then he says his country and his father's name are the same as yours. We'd better go up and question him. MEN. S. By Jove, you have given me good advice! Thanks! Go on helping me, for God's sake! You are a free man if you find that he is my brother. MES. I hope so. MEN. S. And I-I hope so, too! MES. (stepping up to MENECHMUS). Pardon me, sir. You said your name was Menæchmus, I believe. MEN. I did indeed. MES. This (pointing to MENACHMUS SOSICLES) gentleman's name is Menæchmus, too. You said you were born in Syracuse, in Sicily; he also was born there. You said your father's name was Moschus; so was his. Now both of you can do me a good turn, and yourselves as well. MEN. You have earned my consent to any request you choose to make. Free though I am, I'll serve you quite as if you had bought and paid for me. MES. I have hopes, sir, of finding that you two are twin brothers, born of one mother and one father on one day. MEN. A strange statement! I wish you could bring to pass what you promise. MES. I can. (Tremendously earnest and subtle.) But come now, both of you, and answer my questions. MEN. Ask them when you like; I'll answer. Nothing that I know will I keep back. MES. (to his master). How about you? MEN. S. Of course I am. MES. Everything tallies perfectly so far. Your attention further, gentlemen. (To MENÆCHMUS) What is the earliest thing you remember, tell me, in your own country? MEN. Going with my father to Tarentum, his place of trade, and then straying from my father in the crowd and being carried off. MEN. S. Lord above, preserve me! MES. (with asperity). What are you bawling out for? Keep still, won't you! (TO MENÆCHMUS) How old were you when your father took you away from home? MEN. Seven; you see, I was just beginning to lose my first teeth. And I never saw my father after that. MES. What? And how many sons did your father have then? MEN. So far as I can remembertwo. MES. Which was the older, you or your brother? MEN. We were both of the same age. MEN. S. (unable to contain himself longer). Oh, God has been good to me! MES. (with finality). If you interrupt, I prefer to keep still myself. MEN. S. (contritely). I'll keep still. MES. (to MENÆCHMUS). Tell me, did you both have the same name? MEN. Oh no. Why, I had the same name as now, Menæchmus; he was called Sosicles then. MEN. S. (disregarding MESSENIO's protests). The proof's complete! I can't hold back-I must give him a hug! (Embracing MENECHMUS) God bless you, brother, my own twin brother! I am Sosicles! MEN. (doubtful). How is it then, you came to be called Menæchmus? you MEN. S. After word reached us that and that our father was dead, our grandfather changed my name; he gave me yours. MEN. (still doubtful). No doubt this was the case. But answer me this question. MEN. S. (eagerly). Ask it. MEN. What was our mother's name? MEN. (returning his embrace heartily). Right! To see you, so unhoped for, after all these years! Oh, God bless you! MEN. S. And you, too brother! I've searched and searched for you till this moment-and a sad, weary search it's been-and now you're found, I'm happy. MES. (to his master). This is how the wench here came to call you by his name; she mistook you for him, I suppose, when she invited you to lunch. MEN. (reflecting, then frankly). Well, well! The fact is, I did tell them to prepare lunch for me here to-day, unbeknown to my wife, whose mantle I stole from the house a while ago and gave to the wench here. MEN S. Is this mantle I have the one you speak of, brother? (Showing it.) MEN. That's the one! How did it come into your hands? MEN. S. The wench took me in here to luncheon, and said I had given it to her. Lunch I did, deuced well, and drank, and enjoyed the girl, and carried off the mantle and this piece of jewellery. (Showing bracelet.) MEN. (laughing). By Jove! I'm glad if you're my debtor for a bit of amusement. For when she invited you in, she took you for me. MES. (to MENECHMUS). You have no objection to my being free, as you ordered, have you, sir? MEN. A perfectly just and reasonable request, brother. Grant it, for my sake. MEN. S. (to MESSENIO). Be free. MEN. Messenio, I congratulate you on your freedom! MES. (ingratiatingly). But I need better auspices to be free for good, sirs. (Waits for some hint of further benefits.) MEN. S. Now that things have turned out to our satisfaction, brother, let's both go back to our own country. MEN. As you please, brother. I'll hold an auction here and sell all I have. In the meantime let's go inside for the present, brother. MEN. S. By all means. MES. Do you know what I want of you, sirs? MEN. What? MES. To let me be auctioneer. MES. Well, then, do you want it announced at once that there'll be an auction. MEN. Yes, a week from to-day. MES. (bawling). Auction . . . of the effects of Menæchmus ... one week from to-day in the morning, mind! . . For sale . . . slaves, household goods, land, houses. . . everything! everything! . . . For sale... your own price . . . cash down! For sale... even a wife, too, if any buyer appears! (To spectators) I don't believe the whole auction will bring him more than a mere-fifty thousand pounds. Now, spectators, fare ye well and give us your loud applause. Exeunt omnes. -PAUL NIXON. PHORMIO TERENCE Publius Terentius Afer (about 184 to 159 B.C.) was the last of the great writers of the Græco-Roman comedy. He was brought as a slave from Africa to Rome, where he became closely associated with such men as Scipio the Younger and Lælius, who dominated the intellectual and literary circles of the time. He represents a reaction, possibly due to their influence, towards closer adherence to the Greek models. He shows little originality in plot, but is a much more careful workman than Plautus and possesses greater powers in the delineation of character. The Phormio was produced in 161 B.C. The clear and logical development of the plot, the carefully drawn characters, the quieter action and the more refined language, compared with Plautus, are characteristic of the author. DRAMATIS PERSONÆ DEMIPHO, an old gentleman of Athens. HEGIO, friend to Demipho. NAUSISTRATA, wife to Chremes. PROLOGUE The Old Bard finding it impossible Because he ne'er describ'd a mad-brain'd youth, Who in his fits of phrenzy thought he saw A Hind, the dogs in full cry after her; Her too imploring and beseeching him To give her aid.-But did he understand, That when the piece was first produc'd, it ow'd, More to the Actor, than himself, its safety, He would not be thus bold to give offence. But if there's any one that says, or thinks, "That had not the Old Bard assail'd him first Our Poet could not have devis'd a Prologue, Having no matter for abuse";-let such Receive for answer, "that altho' the prize To all advent'rers is held out in common, The Veteran Poet meant to drive our Bard From study into want: He therefore chose To answer, though he would not first offend. And had his adversary but have prov'd A generous rival, he had had due praise. Let him then bear these censures, and reflect, Of his own slanders 'tis the due return! But henceforth I shall cease to speak of him, Altho' he ceases not himself to rail." But now what I'd request of you, attend! To-day I bring a new play, which the Greeks Call Epidicazomenos; the Latins, From the chief character, name Phormio; Phormio, whom you will find a Parasite, And the chief engine of the plot.-And now, If to our Poet you are well inclin'd, Was by a tumult driven from their place; Enter DAVUS as from the Piazza DAVUS. Geta, my worthy friend and countryman, Came to me yesterday: For some time past I've ow'd him some small balance of account: This, he desir'd, I would make up: I have; And brought it with me: For his master's son, I am inform'd, has lately got a wife: What He scarce, ounce by ounce, from short allowance, Sorely defrauding his own appetite, Has spar'd, poor wretch! shall She sweep all at once, Unheeding with what labour it was got. Geta, moreover, shall be struck for more; Another gift, when Madam's brought to bed; Another too, when Master's Birth-day's kept, And they initiate him.-All this Mamma Shall carry off, the Bantling her excuse. But is that Geta? Enter GETA from DEMIPHO's house No more! he's here. The very man that I was going after. Play'd no mad pranks at first: But Phædria Got him immediately a Musick-Girl : Fond of her to distraction! She belong'd To a most avaricious sordid pimp; Nor had we aught to give;-th' old gentleman Had taken care of That. Nought else remain'd, Except to feed his eyes, to follow her, To lead her out to school, and hand her home. We too, for lack of other business, gave Our time to Phædria. Opposite the school, Whither she went to take her lessons, stood A Barber's shop, wherein most commonly We waited her return. Hither one day Came a young man in tears: we were amaz'd, And ask'd the cause. Never (said he, and wept) Did I suppose the weight of poverty She sat: nor friend, nor kindred, nor acquaintance, |