Chapter XIX: Act III

ENTER _Congrio_ AND HIS ASSOCIATES TUMBLING OUT OF
_Euclio’s_ HOUSE, SLAMMING DOOR BEHIND THEM.

_Cong._

Attatae! cives,[6] populares, incolae, accolae, advenae omnes,
date viam qua fugere liceat. facite totae plateae pateant.
neque ego umquam nisi hodie ad Bacchas veni in Bacchanal coquinatum,
ita me miserum et meos discipulos fustibus male contuderunt.
totus doleo atque oppido perii,
ita me iste habuit senex gymnasium; 410

(_in burlesque panic_) Hi-i-i! Citizens, natives,
inhabitants, neighbours, foreigners, every one--give me
room to run! Open up! Clear the street! (_stopping at some
distance from the house_) This is the first time I ever came
to cook for Bacchantes at a Bacchante den. Oh dear, what an
awful clubbing I and my disciples did get! I’m one big ache!
I’m dead and gone! The way that old codger took me for a
gymnasium!

attat, perii hercle ego miser,
aperit bacchanal. adest, 411a
sequitur. scio quam rem geram: hoc
ipsus magister me docuit. 412a
neque ligna ego usquam gentium praeberi vidi pulchrius,
itaque omnis exegit foras, me atque hos, onustos fustibus.

(_Euclio’s door opens and he appears, cudgel in hand_) Oh--
ow--ow! Good Lord be merciful! I’m done for! He’s opening
the den; he’s at the door; he’s after me! I know what I’ll
do: (_retires_) he’s taught me my lesson, my master has.
I never in all my life saw a place where they were freer
handed with their wood: (_rubbing his shoulders_) why, when
he drove the lot of us out he let us have big sticks of it,
all we could stagger under.

III. 2.

Scene 2.

_Eucl._

Redi. quo fugis nunc? tene, tene.

(_going into street_) Come back! Where are you running to
now? Stop him, stop him!

_Cong._

Quid, stolide, clamas?

What are you yelling for, stupid?

_Eucl._

Quia ad tris viros iam ego deferam nomen tuom.

Because I am going to report your name to the police this
instant.

_Cong._

Quam ob rem?

Why?

_Eucl._

Quia cultrum habes.

Well, you carry a knife.

_Cong._

Cocum decet.

And so a cook should.

_Eucl._

Quid comminatu’s
mihi?

And how about your threatening me?

_Cong._

Istud male factum arbitror, quia non latus fodi.

It’s a pity I didn’t jab it through you, I’m thinking.

_Eucl._

Homo nullust te scelestior qui vivat hodie
neque quoi ego de industria amplius male plus libens faxim. 420

There isn’t a more abandoned villain than you on the face of
the earth, or one I’d be gladder to go out of my way to
punish more, either.

_Cong._

Pol etsi taceas, palam id quidem est: res ipsa testist;
ita fustibus sum mollior magis quam ullus cinaedus.
sed quid tibi nos tactiost, mendice homo?

Good Lord! That’s evident enough, even if you didn’t say so:
the facts speak for themselves. I’ve been clubbed till I’m
looser than any fancy dancer. Now what did you mean by
laying hands on me, you beggar?

_Eucl._

Quae res?
etiam rogitas? an quia minus quam aequom erat feci?

What’s that? You dare ask me? Didn’t I do my duty by you--is
that it? (_lifts cudgel_)

_Cong._

Sine, at hercle cum magno malo tuo, si hoc caput sentit.

(_backing away_) All right: but by gad, you’ll pay heavy for
it, or I’m a numskull.

_Eucl._

Pol ego haud scio quid post fuat: tuom nunc caput sentit.
sed in aedibus quid tibi meis nam erat negoti
me absente, nisi ego iusseram? volo scire.

Hm! I don’t know anything about the future of your skull,
but (_chuckling and tapping his cudgel_) it must be numb
now. (_savagely_) See here, what the devil were you doing in
my house without my orders while I was gone? That’s what I
want to know.

_Cong._

Tace ergo.
quia venimus coctum ad nuptias.

Well then, shut up. We came to cook for the wedding, that’s
all.

_Eucl._

Quid tu, malum, curas,
utrum crudum an coctum ego edim, nisi tu mi es tutor? 430

And how does it concern you, curse you, whether I eat my
food cooked or take it raw--unless you are my guardian?

_Cong._

Volo scire, sinas an non sinas nos coquere his cenam?

Are you going to let us cook dinner here or not? That’s what
I want to know.

_Eucl._

Volo scire ego item, meae domi mean salva futura?

Yes, and I want to know whether my things at home will be
safe?

_Cong._

Utinam mea mihi modo auferam, quae adtuli, salva:
me haud paenitet, tua ne expetam.

All I hope is I can get safe away with my own things that I
brought there. That’ll do for me: don’t worry about my
hankering for anything you own.

_Eucl._

Scio, ne doce, novi.

(_incredulous_) I know. You needn’t go on. I quite
understand.

_Cong._

Quid est qua prohibes nunc gratia nos coquere hic cenam?
quid fecimus, quid diximus tibi secus quam velles?

Why won’t you let us cook dinner here now? What have we
done? What have we said that you didn’t like?

_Eucl._

Etiam rogitas, sceleste homo, qui angulos in omnis
mearum aedium et conclavium mihi pervium facitis?
ibi ubi tibi erat negotium, ad focum si adesses,
non fissile auferres caput: merito id tibi factum est. 440

A pretty question, you villainous rascal, with your making
a public highway of every nook and cranny in my whole house!
If you had stayed by the oven where your business lay, you
wouldn’t be carrying that cloven pate: it serves you right.

adeo ut tu meam sententiam iam noscere possis
si ad ianuam huc accesseris, nisi iussero, propius,
ego te faciam miserrimus mortalis uti sis.
scis iam meam sententiam.

(_with forced composure_) Now further, just to acquaint you
with my sentiments in the matter,--you come any nearer this
door without my permission, and I will make you the most
forlorn creature in God’s world. Now you know my sentiments.
[EXIT INTO HOUSE.

_Cong._

Quo abis? redi rursum.
ita me bene amet Laverna, uti te iam, nisi reddi
mihi vasa iubes, pipulo te his differam ante aedis.
quid ego nunc agam? ne ego edepol veni huc auspicio malo.
nummo sum conductus: plus iam medico merce dest opus.

(_calling after him_) Where are you off to? Come back! So
help me holy Mother of Thieves, but I’ll soon make it warm
for you, the way I’ll rip up your reputation in front of the
house here, if you don’t have my dishes brought back! (_as
Euclio closes the door_) Now what? Oh, hell! It certainly
was an unlucky day when I came here! Two shillings for the
job, and now it’ll take more than that to pay the doctor’s
bill.

III. 3.

Scene 3.

RE-ENTER _Euclio_ FROM HOUSE WITH OBJECT UNDER HIS CLOAK.

_Eucl._

Hoc quidem hercle, quoquo ibo, mecum erit, mecum feram,
neque isti id in tantis periclis umquam committam ut siet. 450
ite sane nunciam omnes, et coqui et tibicinae,
etiam intro duce, si vis, vel gregem venalium,
coquite, facite, festinate nunciam, quantum libet.

(_aside_) By heaven, wherever I go this goes (_peering
under cloak_) too: I won’t leave it there to run such risks,
never. (_to Congrio and others_) Very well, come now, in
with you, cooks, music girls, every one! (_to Congrio_) Go
on, take your under-strappers inside if you like, the whole
hireling herd of ’em. Cook away, work away, scurry around to
your hearts’ content now.

_Cong._

Temperi, postquam implevisti fusti fissorum caput.

A nice time for it, after you’ve clubbed my head till it’s
all cracks!

_Eucl._

Intro abite, opera huc conducta est vostra, non oratio.

In with you. You were engaged to get up a dinner here, not a
declamation.

_Cong._

Heus, senex, pro vapulando hercle ego abs te mercedem petam.
coctum ego, non vapulatum, dudum conductus fui.

I say, old boy, I’ll come to you with my bill for that
basting, by the Lord I will. I was hired a while ago to be
cook, not to be thumped.

_Eucl._

Lege agito mecum. molestus ne sis. i et cenam coque,
aut abi in malum cruciatum ab aedibus.

Well, go to law about it. Don’t bother me. Away with you:
get dinner, or else get to the devil out of here.

_Cong._

Abi tu modo.

You just get to--(_mildly, as he pushes in past him_) one
side, then. [EXEUNT _Congrio_ AND HIS ASSOCIATES INTO HOUSE.

III. 4.

Scene 4.

_Eucl._

Illic hinc abiit. di immortales, facinus audax incipit 460
qui cum opulento pauper homine coepit rem habere aut negotium.[7]
veluti Megadorus temptat me omnibus miserum modis,
qui simulavit mei honoris mittere huc causa coquos:
is ea causa misit, hoc qui surriperent misero mihi.

(_looking after them_) He’s disappeared. My Lord, my Lord!
It’s an awful chance a poor man takes when he begins to have
dealings or business with a wealthy man. Here’s Megadorus
now, trying to catch me--oh, dear, dear!--in all sorts of
ways. Sending cooks over here and pretending it’s because
of regard for me! Sent ’em to steal this (_looking under
cloak_) from a poor old man--that’s what his sending ’em
was because of!

condigne etiam meus med intus gallus gallinacius,
qui erat anu peculiaris, perdidit paenissume.
ubi erat haec defossa, occepit ibi scalpurrire ungulis
circum circa. quid opust verbis? ita mihi pectus peracuit:
capio fustem, obtrunco gallum, furem manufestarium.

And then of course that dunghill cock of mine in there, that
used to belong to the old woman, had to come within an inch
of ruining me, beginning to scratch and claw around where
this (_looking under cloak_) was buried. Enough said. It
just got me so worked up I took a club and annihilated that
cock, the thief, the redhanded thief!

credo edepol ego illi mercedem gallo pollicitos coquos, 470
si id palam fecisset. exemi ex manu[8] manubrium.[9] (471)
sed Megadorus meus affinis eccum incedit a foro. (473)
iam hunc non ausim praeterire, quin consistam et conloquar.

By heaven, I do believe the cooks offered that cock a reward
to show them where this (_looking under cloak_) was. I took
the handle (_looking under cloak_) out of their hands!
(_looking down street_) Ah, but there is son-in-law
Megadorus swaggering back from the forum. I suppose it
would hardly do for me to pass him without stopping for
a word or two, now.

III. 5.

Scene 5.

ENTER _Megadorus._

_Mega._

Narravi amicis multis consilium meum
de condicione hac. Euclionis filiam
laudant. sapienter factum et consilio bono.

(_not seeing Euclio_) Well, I’ve told a number of friends of
my intentions regarding this match. They were full of praise
for Euclio’s daughter. Say it’s the sensible thing to do,
a fine idea.

nam meo quidem animo si idem faciant ceteri
opulentiores, pauperiorum filias
ut indotatas ducant uxores domum, 480
et multo fiat civitas concordior,
et invidia nos minore utamur quam utimur,
et illae malam rem metuant quam metuont magis,
et nos minore sumptu simus quam sumus.

Yes, for my part I’m convinced that if the rest of our
well-to-do citizens would follow my example and marry poor
men’s daughters and let the dowries go, there would be a
great deal more unity in our city, and people would be less
bitter against us men of means than they are, and our wives
would stand in greater awe of marital authority than they
do, and the cost of living would be lower for us than it is.

in maximam illuc populi partem est optimum;
in pauciores avidos altercatio est,
quorum animis avidis atque insatietatibus
neque lex neque sutor capere est qui possit modum.
namque hoc qui dicat “quo illae nubent divites
dotatae, si istud ius pauperibus ponitur?” 490

It’s just the thing for the vast majority of the people;
the fight comes with a handful of greedy fellows so stingy
and grasping that neither law nor cobbler can take their
measure. And now supposing some one should ask: “Who are
the rich girls with dowries going to marry, if you make this
rule for the poor ones?”

quo lubeant, nubant, dum dos ne fiat comes.
hoc si ita fiat, mores meliores sibi
parent, pro dote quos ferant, quam nunc ferunt,
ego faxim muli, pretio qui superant equos,
sint viliores Gallicis cantheriis.

Why, anyone they please, let ’em marry, provided their dowry
doesn’t go along with ’em. In that case, instead of bringing
their husbands money, they’d bring them better behaved wives
than they do at present. Those mules of theirs that cost
more than horses do now--they’d be cheaper than Gallic
geldings by the time I got through.

_Eucl._

Ita me di amabunt ut ego hunc ausculto lubens.
nimis lepide fecit verba ad parsimoniam.

(_aside_) God bless my soul, how I do love to hear him
talk! Those thoughts of his about economizing--beautiful,
beautiful!

_Mega._

Nulla igitur dicat “equidem dotem ad te adtuli
maiorem multo quam tibi erat pecunia;
enim mihi quidem aequomst purpuram atque aurum dari, 500
ancillas, mulos, muliones, pedisequos,
salutigerulos pueros, vehicla qui vehar.”

Then you wouldn’t hear them saying: “Well, sir, you never
had anything like the money I brought you, and you know it.
Fine clothes and jewellery, indeed! And maids and mules and
coachmen and footmen and pages and private carriages--well,
if I haven’t a right to them!”

_Eucl._

Ut matronarum hic facta pernovit probe.
moribus praefectum mulierum hunc factum velim.

(_aside_) Ah, he knows ’em, knows ’em through and through,
these society dames! Oh, if he could only be appointed
supervisor of public morals--the women’s!

_Mega._

Nunc quoquo venias plus plaustrorum in aedibus
videas quam ruri, quando ad villam veneris.
sed hoc etiam pulchrum est praequam ubi sumptus petunt.

Wherever you go nowadays you see more wagons in front of a
city mansion than you can find around a farmyard. That’s a
perfectly glorious sight, though, compared with the time
when the tradesmen come for their money.

stat fullo, phyrgio, aurifex, lanarius;
caupones patagiarii, indusiarii,
flammarii, volarii, carinarii; 510
stant manulearii, stant[10] murobatharii,
propolae linteones, calceolarii;
sedentarii sutores diabathrarii,
solearii astant, astant molocinarii;[11] (514)
strophiarii astant, astant semul sonarii. (516)

The cleanser, the ladies’ tailor, the jeweller, the woollen
worker--they’re all hanging round. And there are the dealers
in flounces and underclothes and bridal veils, in violet
dyes and yellow dyes, or muffs, or balsam scented foot-gear;
and then the lingerie people drop in on you, along with
shoemakers and squatting cobblers and slipper and sandal
merchants and dealers in mallow dyes; and the belt makers
flock around, and the girdle makers along with ’em.

iam hosce absolutes censeas: cedunt, petunt
treceni, cum stant thylacistae in atriis
textores limbularii, arcularii.
ducuntur, datur aes. iam absolutos censeas, 520
cum incedunt infectores corcotarii,
aut aliqua mala crux semper est, quae aliquid petat.

And now you may think you’ve got them all paid off. Then up
come weavers and lace men and cabinet-makers--hundreds of
’em--who plant themselves like jailers in your halls and
want you to settle up. You bring ’em in and square accounts.
“All paid off now, anyway,” you may be thinking, when in
march the fellows who do the saffron dyeing--some damned
pest or other, anyhow, eternally after something.

_Eucl._

Compellarem ego illum, ni metuam ne desinat
memorare mores mulierum: nunc sic sinam.

(_aside_) I’d hail him, only I’m afraid he’d stop talking
about how the women go on. No, no, I’ll let him be.

_Mega._

Ubi nugivendis res soluta est omnibus,
ibi ad postremum cedit miles, aes petit.
itur, putatur ratio cum argentario,
miles inpransus astat, aes censet dari.
ubi disputata est ratio cum argentario,
etiam ipsus ultro debet argentario. 530
spes prorogatur militi in alium diem.

When you’ve got all these fellows of fluff and ruffles
satisfied, along comes a military man, bringing up the rear,
and wants to collect the army tax. You go and have a
reckoning with your banker, your military gentleman standing
by and missing his lunch in the expectation of getting some
cash. After you and the banker have done figuring, you find
you owe him money too, and the military man has his hopes
postponed till another day.

haec sunt atque aliae multae in magnis dotibus.
incommoditates sumptusque intolerabiles
nam quae indotata est, ea in potestate est viri;
dotatae mactant et malo et damno viros
sed eccum adfinem ante aedes. quid agis, Euclio?

These are some of the nuisances and intolerable expenses
that big dowries let you in for, and there are plenty more.
Now a wife that doesn’t bring you a penny--a husband has
some control over her; it’s the dowered ones that pester
the life out of their husbands with the way they cut up and
squander. (_seeing Euclio_) But there’s my new relative in
front of the house! How are you, Euclio?

III. 6.

Scene 6.

_Eucl._

Nimium lubenter edi sermonem tuom.

Gratified, highly gratified with your discourse--I devoured
it.

_Mega._

An audivisti?

Eh? you heard?

_Eucl._

Usque a principio omnia.

Every word of it.

_Mega._

Tamen meo quidem animo aliquanto facias rectius,
si nitidior sis filiai nuptus. 540

(_looking him over_) But I say, though, I do think it would
be a little more in keeping, if you were to spruce up a bit
for your daughter’s wedding.

_Eucl._

Pro re nitorem et gloriam pro copia
qui habent, meminerunt sese unde oriundi sient.
neque pol, Megadore, mihi neque quoiquam pauperi
opinione melius res structa est domi.

(_whining_) Folks with the wherewithal and means to let ’em
spruce up and look smart remember who they are. My goodness,
Megadorus! I haven’t got a fortune piled up at home (_peers
slyly under cloak_) any more than people think, and no other
poor man has, either.

_Mega._

Immo est quod satis est, et di faciant ut siet
plus plusque et istuc sospitent quod nunc habes.

(_genially_) Ah well, you’ve got enough, and heaven make it
more and more, and bless you in what you have now.

_Eucl._

Illud mihi verbum non placet “quod nunc habes.”
tam hoc scit me habere quam egomet. anus fecit palam.

(_turning away with a start_) “What you have now!” I don’t
like that phrase! He knows I have this money just as well as
I do! The old hag’s been blabbing!

_Mega._

Quid tu te solus e senatu sevocas?

(_pleasantly_) Why that secret session over there?

_Eucl._

Pol ego ut te accusem merito meditabar.

(_taken aback_) I was--damme sir,--I was framing the
complaint against you that you deserve.

_Mega._

Quid est? 550

What for?

_Eucl._

Quid sit me rogitas? qui mihi omnis angulos
furum implevisti in aedibus misero mihi,
qui mi intro misti in aedis quingentos coquos,
cum senis manibus, genere Geryonaceo;

What for, eh? When you’ve filled every corner of my house
with thieves, confound it! When you’ve sent cooks into my
house by the hundred and every one of ’em a Geryonian[C]
with six hands apiece!

quos si Argus servet qui oculeus totus fuit,
quem quondam Ioni Iuno custodem addidit,
is numquam servet. praeterea tibicinam,
quae mi interbibere sola, si vino scatat,
Corinthiensem fontem Pirenam potest.
tum obsonium autem--

Why, Argus, who had eyes all over him and was set to
guarding Io once by Juno, couldn’t ever keep watch on those
fellows, not if he tried. And that music girl besides! She
could take the fountain of Pirene at Corinth and drink it
dry, all by herself, she could,--if it ran wine. Then as
for the provisions--

[Footnote C: Geryon was a giant with three heads and
bodies.]

_Mega._

Pol vel legioni sat est. 560
etiam agnum misi.

Bless my soul! Why, there’s enough for a regiment. I sent
you a lamb, too.

_Eucl._

Quo quidem agno sat scio
magis curiosam[12] nusquam esse ullam beluam.

Yes, and a more shearable beast than that same lamb doesn’t
exist, I know that.

_Mega._

Volo ego ex te scire qui sit agnus curio.

I wish you would tell me how the lamb is shearable.

_Eucl._

Quia ossa ac pellis totust, ita cura macet.
quin exta inspicere in sole ei vivo licet:
ita is pellucet quasi lanterna Punica.

Because it’s mere skin and bones, wasted away till it’s
perfectly--(_tittering_) sheer. Why, why, you put that
lamb in the sun and you can watch its inwards work: it’s as
transparent as a Punic[D] lantern.

[Footnote D: Perhaps of glass, of which the Phoenicians
were reputedly the inventors.]

_Mega._

Caedundum conduxi ego illum.

(_protestingly_) I got that lamb in myself to be slaughtered.

_Eucl._

Tum tu idem optumumst
loces efferendum; nam iam, credo, mortuost.

(_dryly_) Then you’d best put it out yourself to be buried,
for I do believe it’s dead already.

_Mega._

Potare ego hodie, Euclio, tecum volo.

(_laughing and clapping him on the shoulder_) Euclio, we
must have a little carouse to-day, you and I.

_Eucl._

Non potem ego quidem hercle.

(_frightened_) None for me, sir, none for me! Carouse! Oh my
Lord!

_Mega._

At ego iussero 570
cadum unum vini veteris a me adferrier.

But see here, I’ll just have a cask of good old wine brought
over from my cellars.

_Eucl._

Nolo hercle, nam mihi bibere decretum est aquam.

No, no! I don’t care for any! The fact is I am resolved to
drink nothing but water.

_Mega._

Ego te hodie reddam madidum, si vivo, probe,
tibi cui decretum est bibere aquam.

(_digging him in the ribs_) I’ll get you properly soaked
to-day, on my life I will, you with your “resolved to drink
nothing but water.”

_Eucl._

Scio quam rem agat:
ut me deponat vino, eam adfectat viam,
post hoc quod habeo ut commutet coloniam.
ego id cavebo, nam alicubi abstrudam foris.
ego faxo et operam et vinum perdiderit simul.

(_aside_) I see his game! Trying to fuddle me with his wine,
that’s it, and then give this (_looking under cloak_) a new
domicile! (_pauses_) I’ll take measures against that: yes.
I’ll secrete it somewhere outside the house. I’ll make him
throw away his time and wine together.

_Mega._

Ego, nisi quid me vis, eo lavatum, ut sacruficem.

(_turning to go_) Well, unless I can do something for you,
I’ll go take a bath and get ready to offer sacrifice.
[EXIT INTO HOUSE.

_Eucl._

Edepol, ne tu, aula, multos inimicos habes 580
atque istuc aurum quod tibi concreditum est.
nunc hoc mihi factu est optumum, ut ted auferam,
aula, in Fidei fanum: ibi abstrudam probe.
Fides, novisti me et ego te: cave sis tibi,
ne in me mutassis nomen, si hoc concreduo.
ibo ad te fretus tua, Fides, fiducia.

(_paternally to object under cloak_) God bless us both, pot,
you do have enemies, ah yes, many enemies, you and the gold
entrusted to you! As matters stand, pot, the best thing I
can do for you is to carry you off to the shrine of Faith:
I’ll hide you away there, just as cosy! You know me, Faith,
and I know you: don’t change your name, mind, if I trust
this to you. Yes, I’ll go to you, Faith, relying on your
faithfulness. [EXIT _Euclio_.

ACTVS IV