Strobilus: It is a curious fact that all of the editions make this to be a different person from the Strobilus, the servant of Megadorus, whom we have already seen hiring Congrio, Anthrax, and the "tibicinæ." In the "dramatis personæ" they style this one, Strobilus, "the servant of Lyconides," and the other Strobilus, in some instances, as "the servant of Megadorus," and in others (evidently by mistake) as "the servant of Euclio." On examination we shall find there is no ground for this. Eunomia (most probably a widow) is living, together with her son Lyconides, in the house of her brother Megadorus. This is clear from what Lyconides says in l. 684, where, speaking of the house of his uncle, he calls it "ædes nostras," "our house," which he would not have said had he not been residing there. By the indulgence of his uncle, who has no children, we may presume that Strobilus has been permitted to consider him as "his young master." After hiring the cooks, he has communicated the bad news to Lyconides, who tells him to keep a good look-out, and inform him of any chance that may possibly happen for breaking off the marriage.
This is the duty of a good servant, to do what I'm intending, not to consider the commands of his master a bore or trouble to him. For that servant who resolves to serve his master with hearty goodwill, him it behoves to act expeditiously for his master, slowly for himself; but if he sleeps, let him so sleep as to bethink himself that he is a servant. But he who lives in servitude to one in love, as I am serving, if he sees love overcoming his master, this I think to be the duty of the servant; to restrain him for his safety, not to impel him onwards towards his own inclination. Just as a float of bulrushes is placed beneath boys who are learning to swim, by means of which they may labour less, so as to swim more easily and move their hands; in the same way do I consider that it is proper for the servant to be a buoy to his master thus in love, so as to bear him up lest he should go to the bottom; and so * * * * should he learn the will of his master, that his eyes should know what his mouth chooses not to speak. What he orders, he should hasten to perform more swiftly than the swift steeds. He who shall have a care for these things, will escape the castigation of the ox's hide, nor by his own means will he ever bring the fetters to brightness. Now, my master's in love with the daughter of this poor man, Euclio; word has just now been brought to my master that she is given to Megadorus here: he has sent me here to spy out, that he may be made acquainted with the things that are going on. Now, without any suspicion, I'll sit here by the sacred altarBy the sacred altar
: The Athenians often raised altars to Apollo or Bacchus at their doors. The Romans also had altars in their public streets. On the stage of Comedy there was generally an altar erected in honor of Apollo,
O Goddess Faith, do thou but take care not to discover to any person that my gold is there. I have no fear that any one will find it, so well is it concealed in its hiding place. By my troth, he will surely have a charming booty there, if any one shall meet with that pot loaded with gold. But I entreat thee, Faith, to hinder that. Now I shall go wash me, that I may perform the sacrifice; so that I may not delay my new connexion by marriage, but that, when he sends to me, he may forthwith take my daughter home. Over and over again now, Goddess Faith, do thou take care that I shall carry away the pot safe from thy Temple. To thy fidelityTo thy fidelity
: "Tuæ fidei." He plays upon the word "fides," and flatters himself that his treasure cannot be more secure than when entrusted "to the faith of Falt..."
A gallon jug
: "Congialem." Literally, "holding a congius." This contained about nine pints of English measure. By the use of the word "fidelia," "a jug," he plays on its resemblance to the name of "Fides."
On my left hand
: We cannot fail to remember here the exactly similar expression of Gay, in the fable of the Farmer's Wife and the Raven:
Began to jump about
: "Ars ludicra" here means "the art of a 'ludius,' or stage-player," who moves to and fro and gesticulates-hence "cor cœpit artem facere ludicram" would strictly mean "my heart begins to move to and fro like a play-actor."
Earthworm
: He thinks, that in the short space of time during which he has been absent in the Temple, he can only have sprung out of the earth, as he had not seen him a few minutes before; and taking him to be a sort of "præstigiator," or "juggler," he fancies that he has followed him into the Temple, and purloined the treasure.
What the curst plague does ail you? What business have you with me, old fellow? Why do you torment me? Why are you dragging me? For what reason are you beating me?
You out-and-out whipping-post, do you even ask that, you, not thief, but thrice-dotted thief.
What have I stolen from you?
Give me that back here, if you please.
What do you want me to give you back?
Do you ask me that?
As for me, I've taken nothing away from you.
But give up that which you have taken away for yourself. Are you going to do so?
Do what?
You can't carry it off.
What do you want?
Lay it down.
Troth, for my part, I think that you are in the habitIn the habit
: The real meaning of the author in this line is so indelicate, that it requires another turn to be given to the passage.
Put that down, please; cease your quibbling; I'm not trifling now.
What am I to put down? Why don't you mention it, whatever it is, by its own name? By my faith, I really have neither taken nor touched anything.
Show me your hands, here.
Well, I do show them; see, here they are.
I see them. Come, show me the third Show me your hand. Here 'tis. But where's the other? Why, here. But I mean, where's your other hand? Think you me the giant with an hundred hands? Give me your right. My right? Your left? My left? Now both. There's both, my dear AntonioShow me the third
: This passage has been considered as extravagant; but it really does not appear inconsistent with the ridiculous conduct of the wretched Euclio throughout.
A very great one, I confess, inasmuch as you are not strung up; and that too shall be done this moment, un less you do confess.
What am I to confess to you?
What it was you took away hence.
May the Gods confound me, if I've taken away anything of yours,
Come then, shake out your cloak.
At your pleasure.
You haven't it among your under-clothing?
Search where you please.
Pshaw! how civilly the rascal speaks, that I mayn't suppose he has taken it away! I know your tricks. Come, show me here again that right hand.
Here it is.
Well, then, I show you both, in fact.
Now I leave off searching. Give back that here.
Give back what?
Are you trifling with me? You certainly have got it.
I, got it? Got what?
I shan't say; you want to hear. Whatever you have of mine, give it back.
You are mad; you've searched me all over at your own pleasure, and yet you've found nothing of yours in my possession.
Who was the other
: This suspicion in Euclio is very natural; and he asks the question very artfully, for the purpose of catching a confession from him by inadvertence.
He returns his thanks not amissThanks not amiss
: He says this sarcastically. If he gets such thanks when he has not stolen the treasure, what would he have got supposing that he had?
I'll go in here now, and I'll at once throttle this accomplice of yours. Will you not fly hence from my sight? Will you away from here, or no?
I'm off.
Take you care, please, how I see you.
I would rather that I were dead outright, by a shocking death, than not lay an ambush this day for that old fellow. But he'll not venture now to hide his gold here; he'll now be carrying it with him, I guess, and be changing the spot. But hark! there's a noise at the door.