Act I

THE PROLOGUE.

Spoken by SILENUS, mounted on his Ass.

'Tis a wonder if the spectators on the benches this day don't hiss, and cough, and make a snorting noise at this ridiculous sight, furrow their brows, and, with cries with one consent, shout all aloud, and mutter imprecations. Hardly in their youth can beardless actors, or mimics with their beards plucked out, find room upon the stage. Why comes forth this aged and lethargic go-between, who is borne upon the ass's back? Listen, I pray, and give me your attention, while I tell you the name of this quiet Comedy. 'Tis proper for you to make silence for a Divinity. It befits not those to use the resources of the voice, who come here not to exclaim, but to be spectators. Give me attentive ears; but not into my hands I mean; I wish my voice, as it flies, to strike these vacant ears. What do you fear? Are those blows more hurtful which open what is shut, or which close what is open? You're very kind; the inhabitants of heaven do love you deservedly. There is profound silence — even the children are still — and now, attend to a new-come messenger, on a new errand. Who I am — why I am come to you — I'll tell you in a few words; at the same time, I'll disclose to you the name of this Comedy. Now, behold, I shall tell you what you wish to know; do you then give me your attention. I am a God of Nature, the foster-father of most mighty Bromius, him who, with a female army, gained a kingdom. Whatever about him renowned nations relate, some part, at least, has been accomplished by my advice. That which pleases me is never displeasing to him. 'Tis right if one father another father does obey. Ass-borne do the Ionian multitudes style me, because I am borne on an ass for my conveyance. Who I am, you understand: if you understand, allow me now to tell the name of this quiet play; at the same time, you may learn why I have come to you. Philemon formerly produced a play in Greek; this, those who speak the Greek language call "Evantides;" Plautus, who speaks the Latin, calls it "Bacchides." 'Tis not to be wondered, then, if hither I have come. Bacchus sends to you the Bacchides — the Bacchanalian Bacchanals. I am bringing them unto you. What! Have I told a lie? It don't become a God to tell a lie; but the truth I tell— I bring not them; but the salacious ass, wearied with its journey, is bringing to you three, if I remember right. One you behold; see now, what on my lips I bring — to wit, two Samian sisters, Bacchanalians, merry Courtesans, born of the same parents, at one time, at a twin-birth; not less alike than milk to milk, if you compare it, or water to water; were you to see them you would think them halved; so much would you confuse your sight, that you would not be able to distinguish which was which. What remains you long to hear. Now give attention: the story of this Play I will disclose. What country Samos is, is known to all; for seas, lands, mountains, and islands, have your legions made easy of access. There, Sostrata bore to her husband, Pyrgoteles Pyrocles, twin-daughters at one birth; and it pleased them, being initiated at the triennial festival of Bacchus, to call after his name the damsels of which they were the parents. The parents, as often happens, gave a turn to their future fortunes. A Captain carried one of them with him to Crete. The other of the twins sailed for Athens. As soon as Mnesilochus, the son of Nicobulus, beheld her, he began to love her, and frequently paid her visits. Meantime, his father sent the youth to Ephesus, to bring back thence some gold, which he himself, some time before, had deposited with Archidemides, an ancient friend of his, an aged Phoenician. When, for two years he had stayed at Ephesus, he received the sad news that Bacchis was gone from Athens, for some sailors of his acquaintance sent him word that she had set sail. On this, he writes a letter to Pistoclerus, his only friend, the son of Philoxenus, entreating him to seek the fugitive with care and earnestness. While Pistoclerus is devoting his services to his friend, the twin-sisters, who have just returned to Athens, arouse a passion in the seeker. The one wins Pistoclerus for herself; the other longs for the coming of Mnesilochus. What wonder if two bewitching, merry, pretty Bacchantes, should attract to themselves two unfledged Bacchanalians, and if they should ensnare their decrepit, most aged fathers, fit subjects for the undertaker, bowed down by the weight of their years. But, see, here's Pistoclerus, who is returning to the Bacchides so lately found, and in his simplicity! is blowing in himself the sparks of passion so lately kindled. Now I'm off — do you attend. (Exit.)

Scene I.

Enter PISTOCLERUS.

PISTOC. * * * * * * those who are of a thrifty turn of mind, modest, and without servility. * * * * * *

* * * * * * *

Chains, rods, and mills; their shocking brutality becomes worse. * * * * * * *

* * * * * * *

She who keeps my friend and me engaged.

* * * * * (Exit.)

Enter FIRST BACCHIS.

1ST BACCH. I have heard that Ulysses underwent toils innumerable, who, in wanderings, was twenty years away from his native land. But this young man by far outdoes Ulysses; who here in this spot is wandering within the walls of the city.

1ST BACCH. * * * * * * She was of the same name with myself.

* * * * * * *

1ST BACCH. Sweep out the house with brooms, work briskly. * * * * * * Will some one call that most dirty fellow with the water-pail and the water.

CLEOMACHUS, SECOND BACCHIS.

CLEOM. * * * * But if a life of wantonness is perchance preferred by you, consider the price that I agreed to give you that at that age you might not be following me for nought * * * * * * from no one else you might be receiving a yearly pay, except from oneself, nor be toying with any man * *

* * * * * * *

* * * * like slugs upon a man.

PISTOCLERUS, SECOND BACCHIS, SERVANT.

* * * * * * *

PISTOC. As like as milk is to milk; whatever is her name

* * * * * * *

SERV. The soldier who sells his life for gold * * * * * * I know that his breath is much stronger than when the bellows of bull's hide are blowing, when the rocks melt where the iron is made.

PISTOC. Of what country did he seem to you?

SERV. I think he is of Praeneste; he was such a boaster.

PISTOC. * * The city * * * and I don't think it is in spurious boastfulness.

* * * * * * *

Scene II.

Enter FIRST and SECOND BACCHIS.

1ST BACCH. * * * My heart, my hope, my honey, my sweetness, my nutriment, my delight. * * * Let me bestow on you my love * * * the Arabian * * * * * * * * * Cupid or has love overpowered * * * * * * * * * * Perhaps to suspect that you are in love. * * * * * * * Get money from that quarter * * * * for I really do believe that with ease you can enchant the heart of any man.

2ND BACCH. * * * * *

1ST BACCH. And suppose it is much better that you should hold your peace, and I should speak?

2ND BACCH. With pleasure; you may proceed.

1ST BACCH. When my memory shall fail me, then do you take care to aid me, sister.

2ND BACCH. I' faith, I'm more afraid that I shan't have the choice of prompting you.

1ST BACCH. Troth, I'm afraid the little nightingale may lose her powers of song. Follow this way. (They move.)

Enter PISTOCLERUS.

PISTOC. What are these two Courtesans, the namesake-sisters, about?

1ST BACCH. Nothing is there more wretched than a woman.

PISTOC. What, say you, is there more worthy of it? What have you been planning in your consultation?

1ST BACCH. What's proper?

PISTOC. I' faith, that doesn't belong to the Courtesan.

1ST BACCH. This sister of mine entreats me so to find some person to protect her against this Captain; that when she has served her time he may bring her back home. Do you, I entreat you, be her protector.

PISTOC. Why should I protect her?

1ST BACCH. That she may be brought home again, when she has fulfilled her engagement to him, so that he may not take her as a servant for himself. But, if she had the gold to pay him back again, gladly would she do so.

PISTOC. Where now is this person?

1ST BACCH. I expect that he'll be here just now. But this you'll be able to arrange better among ourselves; and sitting there, you shall wait until he comes. So you will drink some wine, and so, I'll give you a kiss when you have drunk if.

PISTOC. Your coaxing is mere birdlime.

1ST BACCH. How so?

PISTOC. Because, in fact, I understand how you two are aiming at one poor pigeon, myself; (aside) very nearly is the limed reed breaking my feathers. Madam, I judge that such deeds befit me not.

1ST BACCH. Why so, I pray?

PISTOC. Bacchis, it is, because I dread you Bacchantes, and your Bacchanalian den.

1ST BACCH. What is it that you dread? Surely, not that the couch in my house may lead you into mischief?

PISTOC. Your allurements, more than your couch, do I dread. You're a mischievous serpent. But, madam, a lurking-place does not befit this youthful age.

1ST BACCH. Should you wish at my house to do anything that's unwise, I myself should hinder it. But, when the Captain comes, I wish you to be at my house for this reason; because, when you are present, no one will do her and me any injury. You will prevent that, and by the same means you will be aiding your friend; this Captain, too, on arriving, will suspect that I am your mistress. Why are you silent, pray?

PISTOC. Because these things are pleasant in the talking of; but in the practice, and when you make trial, the same are armed with stings. They pierce the feelings, goad one's fortune, and wound one's merits and character.

2ND BACCH. What do you dread from her?

PISTOC. What do I dread, do you ask? Am I a person in my youth to enter a place of exercise of such a nature, where people sweat to their undoing? — where for the quoit I receive a loss, disgrace, too, for my running?

2ND BACCH. How charmingly you do talk.

PISTOC. Where I'm to take a turtle-dove instead of a sword, and where another puts into my hand the goblet instead of the cestus; the drinking-cup is in place of the helmet, the wreathed garland instead of the crest, the dice in place of the lance. For the coat of mail I should have to assume a soft cloak; where, too, in place of a horse a couch must be given me, — for shield, a strumpet may be lying by me. Avaunt from me — avaunt!

2ND BACCH. O, you're too fierce.

PISTOC. I am attending to my own interests.

2ND BACCH. You must be softened down; and, in fact, I offer you my aid in this.

PISTOC. But you are too expensive an assistant.

1ST BACCH. Do pretend that you are in love with me.

PISTOC. Whether should I be pretending that in jest, or seriously?

1ST BACCH. Well said! better to do the last. When the Captain comes here, I want you to embrace me.

PISTOC. What need is there of my doing that?

1ST BACCH. I want him to see you. I know what I'm about?

PISTOC. And I, i' faith, I know not what I'm in fear of. But what say you?

1ST BACCH. What's the matter now?

PISTOC. Well, suppose perchance on a sudden a breakfast or a drinking bout, or else a dinner, should take place at your house, just as is the wont in such places of resort; where, then, should I take my place?

1ST BACCH. Near myself, my life, that with a she wit a he wit may be reclining at the repast. A place here, at our house, should you come late, is always at your service. When you wish right merrily to disport yourself, my rosebud, you say to me, "Do let me enjoy myself to-day," I'll provide you a delightful place where it may be so.

PISTOC. Here is a rapid stream; not without hazard can this way be passed.

1ST BACCH. (aside). And, by my troth, something must you lose amid this stream. (Aloud.) Give me your hand and follow me.

PISTOC. O, by no means.

1ST BACCH. Why so?

PISTOC. Because to a man in his youth nothing can be more alluring than these — night, women, wine.

1ST BACCH. Away, then, with you; for my part, I don't at all care for it, but for your own sake. The Captain, then, shall take her off; don't you be present at all if you don't choose.

PISTOC. (to himself). And am I a thing of nothing, who cannot moderate my own passions?

1ST BACCH. What's there for you to fear?

PISTOC. There's nothing; all nonsense. Madam, I resign myself to you. I'm yours; to you do I devote my services.

1ST BACCH. You are a dear man. Now I wish you to do this. To-day I want to give a welcome entertainment to my sister. For that purpose I shall at once order the money to be brought you from in-doors. Do you take care and cater for us a splendid entertainment.

PISTOC. No, I'll stand treat; for it would be a shame, that on my account you both should take trouble for me, and by reason of that trouble should pay the expense from your own means.

1ST BACCH. But I can't allow you to give anything.

PISTOC. Do let me.

1ST BACCH. Well, I'll let you, if you choose. Prithee, do make haste.

PISTOC. I shall be here again, before I cease to love you, (Exit PISTOCLERUS.)

2ND BACCH. You entertain me pleasantly upon my return, my sister.

1ST BACCH. How so, prithee?

2ND BACCH. Because, in my way of thinking, this day a lucky haul has fallen to your lot.

1ST BACCH. He's mine, assuredly. INow, sister, with respect to Mnesilochus, I'll give you my aid, that here at home you may be receiving gold, rather than be going hence together with the Captain.

2ND BACCH. That's my desire.

1ST BACCH. My aid shall be given you. The water's warm; let's go in, that you may bathe. For, as you have travelled on board ship, you are faint, I think.

2ND BACCH. A little so, sister. (PISTOCLERUS is seen at a distance.) Besides, he's beginning to cause I don't know what bustle. Let's begone hence.

1ST BACCH. Follow me this way in-doors to bathe, that you may relieve your weariness.

Scene III.

Enter PISTOCLERUS, accompanied by People with Provisions for the Entertainment, followed by LYDUS.

LYD. For some time, Pistoclerus, I've been following you in silence, watching what you were doing in this dress. For, so may the Gods favour me, even Lycurgus himself seems to me as if he could be led into debauchery here. Whither now are you betaking yourself hence in an opposite direction with such a train?

PISTOC. To this place (pointing to the house).

LYD. Why to this place? Who lives there?

PISTOC. Love, Pleasure, Venus, Beauty, Joy, Jesting, Dalliance, Converse, and Sweet-kissing.

LYD. What intercourse have you with these most destructive Deities?

PISTOC. Bad are those men who speak evil of the good. You speak not well of even the Gods themselves; you do what is not right.

LYD. Is Sweet-kissing, then, some God?

PISTOC. And do you not think she is? O Lydus, why, what a barbarian you are, you, whom I had deemed to be far more wise than Thales himself. Go to, you are more foolish than Potitius, the foreigner, who, at an age so advanced, knew not the names of the Divinities.

LYD. This dress of yours pleases me not.

PISTOC. But no one prepared it for you; it was prepared for myself, whom it pleases well.

LYD. And do you commence upon your repartees against myself even? You, who, if you had even ten tongues, ought to be silent.

PISTOC. Not every age, Lydus, is suited for school. One thing especially is just now on my mind, how the cook may with due care attend to these things as befits the elegance of the entertainment.

LYD. Now have you undone yourself and me and all my labours, me who so oft have shown you what is right, all to no purpose.

PISTOC. In the same place have I lost my labour where you've lost yours: your instructions profit neither me nor yourself.

LYD. O obdurate heart!

PISTOC. You are troublesome to me. Hold your tongue, Lydus, and follow me.

LYD. Now, see that, please; he no longer calls me "tutor," but mere "Lydus."

PISTOC. It seems not proper, nor can it be fit, that, when a person is in a house, and is reclining at the feast together with his mistress, and is kissing her, and the other guests are reclining too, the tutor should be there too in their presence.

LYD. Are these provisions purchased for such a purpose, pray?

PISTOC. My intentions, indeed, expect so; how it falls out, is in the hands of the Gods.

LYD. Will you be having a mistress?

PISTOC. When you see, then you'll know.

LYD. Aye, but you shall not have one, and I won't allow it. Go back again home.

PISTOC. Do leave me alone, Lydus, and beware of mischief.

LYD. What? Beware of mischief? O yawning gulf, where art thou now? How gladly would I avail myself of thee! Already have I lived far longer than I could have wished. 'Twere much better now to have once existed than to be living still. That any pupil should thus threaten his tutor!

PISTOC. My years are now advanced beyond your tutorship.

LYD. I want no pupils for me with heated blood. An up-grown one may harass me thus devoid of strength.

PISTOC. As I guess, I shall become a Hercules, and you a Linus.

LYD. I' faith, I fear more that through your goings-on I shall become a Phoenix, and have to tell the news to your father that you are dead.

PISTOC. Enough of these stories.

LYD. This youth is lost to shame; the man's ruined. And does it then recur to you that you have a father?

PISTOC. Am I your servant, or you mine?

LYD. By my troth, you made an exchange not desirable for that age of yours, when you gained these impudent ways. Some bad master has been teaching you all this, not I. You are a scholar far more apt at these pursuits than at those lessons which I taught you when I was losing my labour. Troth, 'twas a bad piece of deceit you were guilty of at your age, when you concealed these vicious tendencies from myself and from your father.

PISTOC. Lydus, you have thus far had liberty of speech; that is enough. So now do you follow this way, and hold your tongue. (They go into the house of BACCHIS.)