<GetPassage xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0" xmlns="http://chs.harvard.edu/xmlns/cts">
            <request>
                <requestName>GetPassage</requestName>
                <requestUrn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi0134.phi002.perseus-eng2:53-175</requestUrn>
            </request>
            <reply>
                <urn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi0134.phi002.perseus-eng2:53-175</urn>
                <passage>
                    <TEI xmlns="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><text xml:lang="en"><body><div xml:lang="eng" type="translation" n="urn:cts:latinLit:phi0134.phi002.perseus-eng2"><div type="textpart" n="53" subtype="card"><stage>Enter CHREMES, and MENEDEMUS with a spade in his hand, who falls to
                        digging.</stage><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> Although this acquaintanceship between us is of very recent date, from
                            the time in fact of your purchasing an estate here in the neighborhood,
                            yet either your good qualities, or our being neighbors (which I take to
                            be a sort of friendship), induces me to inform you, frankly and
                            familiarly, that you appear to me to labor beyond your years, and beyond
                            what your affairs require. For, in the name of Gods and men, what would
                            you have? What can be your aim? You are, as I conjecture, sixty years of
                            age, or more. No man in these parts has a better or a more valuable
                            estate, no one more servants; and yet you discharge their duties just as
                            diligently as if there were none at all. However early in the morning I
                            go out, and however late in the evening I return home, I see you either
                            digging, or plowing, or doing something, in fact, in the fields. You
                            take respite not an instant, and are quite regardless of yourself. I am
                            very sure that this is not done for your amusement. But really I am
                            vexed how little work is done here.<milestone n="72" unit="line"/>
                     <note anchored="true"><q>How little work is done
                                    here</q>: Vollbehr thinks that his meaning is, that he is
                                quite vexed to see so little progress made, in spite of his
                                neighbor's continual vexation and turmoil, and that, as he says in
                                the next line, he is of opinion that if he were to cease working
                                himself, and were to overlook his servants, he would get far more
                                done. It is more generally thought to be an objection which Chremes
                                suggests that Menedemus may possibly make.</note> If you were to
                            employ the time you spend in laboring yourself, in keeping your servants
                            at work, you would profit much more.</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> Have you so much leisure, Chremes, from your own affairs, that you can
                            attend to those of others-those which don't concern you?</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> I am a man,<milestone n="77" unit="line"/>
                     <note anchored="true"><q>I am a man</q>: "Homo sum: humani
                                nihil a me alienum puto." St.
                                    Augustine says, that at the delivery of this
                                sentiment, the Theatre resounded with applause; and deservedly,
                                indeed, for it is replete with the very essence of benevolence
                                and:disregard of self. Cicero quotes the passage in his work De
                                Officiis, B. i., c. 9. The remarks of Sir Richard Steele upon this
                                passage, in the Spectator, No. 502, are worthy to be transcribed at
                                length. "The Play was the Self-Tormentor. It is from the beginning
                                to the end a perfect picture of human life, but I did not observe in
                                the whole one passage that could raise a laugh. How well-disposed
                                must that people be, who could be entertained with satisfaction by
                                so sober and polite mirth! In the first Scene of the Comedy, when
                                one of the old men accuses the other of impertinence for interposing
                                in his affairs, he answers, 'I am a man, and can not help feeling
                                any sorrow that can arrive at man.' It is said this sentence was
                                received with an universal applause. There can not be a greater
                                argument of the general good understanding of a people, than their
                                sudden consent to give their approbation of a sentiment which has no
                                emotion in it. If it were spoken with ever so great skill in the
                                actor, the manner of uttering that sentence could have nothing in it
                                which could strike any but people of the greatest humanity—nay,
                                people elegant and skillful in observation upon it. It is possible
                                that he may have laid his hand on his heart, and with a winning
                                insinuation in his countenance, expressed to his neighbor that he
                                was a man who made his case his own; yet I will engage, a player in
                                    <placeName key="tgn,4012717">Covent Garden</placeName> might hit
                                such an attitude a thousand times before he would have been
                                regarded."</note> and nothing that concerns a man do I deem a matter
                            of indifference to me. Suppose that I wish either to advise you in this
                            matter, or to be informed myself: if what you do is right, that I may do
                            the same; if it is not, then that I may dissuade you.</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> It's requisite for me to do so; do you as it is necessary for you to
                            do.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> Is it requisite for any person to torment himself?</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> It is for me.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> If you have any affliction, I could wish it otherwise. But prithee, what
                            sorrow is this of yours? How have you deserved so ill of yourself?</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> Alas! alas! <stage>He begins to weep.</stage>
                  </p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> Do not weep, but make me acquainted with it, whatever it is. Do not be
                            reserved; fear nothing; trust me, I tell you. Either by consolation, or
                            by counsel, or by any means, I will aid you.</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> Do you wish to know this matter?</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> Yes, and for the reason I mentioned to you.</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> I will tell you.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> But still, in the mean time, lay down that rake; don't fatigue
                            yourself.</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> By no means.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> What can be your object? <stage>Tries to take the rake from
                            him.</stage>
                  </p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> Do leave me alone, that I may give myself no respite from my labor.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> I will not allow it, I tell you. <stage>Taking the rake from
                                him.</stage>
                  </p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> Ah! that's not fair.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p><stage>poising the rake.</stage> Whew! such a heavy one as this,
                            pray!</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> Such are my deserts.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> Now speak. <stage>Laying down the rake.</stage>
                  </p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> I have an only son,—a young man,—alas! why did I say—" I
                            have?"—rather I should say, "I had" one, Chremes:—whether I have him
                            now, or not, is uncertain.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> Why so?</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> You shall know:—There is a poor old woman here, a stranger from
                                <placeName key="perseus,Corinth">Corinth</placeName>:—her daughter, a
                            young woman, he fell in love with, insomuch that he almost regarded her
                            as his wife; all this took place unknown to me. When I discovered the
                            matter, I began to reprove him, not with gentleness, nor in the way
                            suited to the love-sick mind of a youth, but with violence, and after
                            the usual method of fathers. I was daily reproaching him,—"Look you, do
                            you expect to be allowed any longer to act thus, myself, your father,
                            being alive; to be keeping a mistress pretty much as though your wife?
                            You are mistaken, Clinia, and you don't know me, if you fancy that. I am
                            willing that you should be called my son, just as long as you do what
                            becomes you; but if you do not do so, I shall find out how it becomes me
                            to act toward you. This arises from nothing, in fact, but too much
                            idleness. At your time of life, I did not devote my time to dalliance,
                            but, in consequence of my poverty, departed. hence for <placeName key="tgn,1000004">Asia</placeName>, and there acquired in arms both
                            riches and military glory." At length the matter came to this,—the
                            youth, from hearing the same things so often, and with such severity,
                            was overcome. He supposed that I, through age and affection, had more
                            judgment and foresight for him than him-self. He went off to <placeName key="tgn,1000004">Asia</placeName>, Chremes, to serve under the
                            king.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> What is it you say?</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> He departed without my knowledge—and lias been gone these three
                            months.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> Both are to be blamed—although I still think this step shows an
                            ingenuous and enterprising disposition.</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> When I learned this from those who were in the secret, I returned home
                            sad, and with feelings almost over-whelmed and distracted through grief.
                            I sit down; my servants run to me; they take off my shoes:<milestone n="124" unit="line"/>
                     <note anchored="true"><q>Take off my? shoes</q>: As to the "socci," or low shoes of
                                the ancients, see the Notes to the Trinummus of Plautus, 1. 720, in
                                Bohn's Translation. It was the especial duty of certain slaves to
                                take off the shoes of their masters.</note> then some make all haste
                            to spread the couches,<milestone n="125" unit="line"/>
                     <note anchored="true"><q>To spread the couches</q>:
                                The "lecti" or "couches" upon which the ancients reclined at meals,
                                have been enlarged upon in the Notes to Plautus, where full
                                reference is also made to the "coena," or "dinner," and other meals
                                of the Romans.</note> and to prepare a repast; each according to his
                            ability did zealously what he could, in order to alleviate my sorrow.
                            When I observed this, I began to reflect thus:—"What! are so many
                            persons anxious for my sake alone, to pleasure myself only? Are so many
                            female servants to provide me with dress?<milestone n="130" unit="line"/>
                     <note anchored="true"><q>Provide
                                    me with dress</q>: It was the custom for the mistress and
                                female servants in each family to make the clothes of the master.
                                Thus in the Fasti of <persName>Ovid</persName>,
                                B. ii., 1. 746, <persName>Lucretia</persName> is
                                found amidst her female servants, making a cloak, or "lacerna," for
                                her husband. Suetonius says that Augustus refused to wear any
                                garments not woven by his female relations. Cooke seems to think
                                that "vestiant" alludes to the very act of putting the clothes upon
                                a person. He says, "The better sort of people had eating-dresses,
                                which are here alluded to. These dresses were light garments, to put
                                on as soon as they had bathed. They commonly bathed before eating,
                                and the chief meal was in the evening." This, however, does not seem
                                to be the meaning of the passage, although Colman has adopted it. We may here
                                remark that the censure here described is not unlike that mentioned
                                in the Prologue to the Mercator of Plautus, as administered by
                                Demaenetus to his son Charinus.</note> Shall I alone keep up such an
                            expensive establishment, while my only son, who ought equally, or even
                            more so, to enjoy these things-inasmuch as his age is better suited for
                            the enjoyment of them—him, poor youth, have I driven away from home by
                            my severity! Were I to do this, really I should deem myself deserving of
                            any calamity. But so long as he leads this life of penury, banished from
                            his country through my severity, I will revenge his wrongs upon myself,
                            toiling, making money, saving, and laying up for him." At once I set
                            about it; I left nothing in the house, neither movables<milestone n="141" unit="line"/>
                     <note anchored="true"><q>Neither movables</q>: "Vas" is here used as a general name
                                for articles of furniture. This line appears to be copied almost
                                literally from one of Menander, which still exists.</note> nor
                            clothing; every thing I scraped together. Slaves, male and female,
                            except those who could easily pay for their keep by working in the
                            country, all of them I set up to auction and sold. I at once put up a
                            bill to sell my house.<milestone n="145" unit="line"/>
                     <note anchored="true"><q>To sell my house</q>: On the
                                mode of advertising houses to let or be sold among the Romans, see
                                the Trinummus of Plautus, 1. 168, and the Note to the passage in
                                Bohn's Translation.</note> I collected somewhere about fifteen
                            talents, and purchased this farm; here I fatigue myself: I have come to
                            this conclusion, Chremes, that I do my son a less injury, while I am
                            unhappy; and that it is not right for me to enjoy any pleasure here,
                            until such time as he returns home safe to share it with me.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> I believe you to be of an affectionate disposition toward your
                                children,<milestone n="151" unit="line"/>
                     <note anchored="true"><q>Toward your clildren</q>: The plural "
                                liberos" is here used to signify the one son which Menedemus has. So
                                in the Hecyra, 1.217, the same word is used to signify but one
                                daughter. This was a common mode of expression in the times of the
                                earlier Latin authors.</note> and him to be an obedient son, if one
                            were to manage him rightly or prudently. But neither did you understand
                            him sufficiently well, nor he you-a thing that happens where persons
                            don't live on terms of frankness together. You never showed him how
                            highly you valued him, nor did he ever dare put that confidence in you
                            which is due to a father. Had this been done, these troubles would never
                            have befallen you.</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> Such is the fact, I confess; the greatest fault is on my side.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> But still, Menedemus, I hope for the best, and I trust that he'll be
                            here safe before long.</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> Oh that the Gods would grant it!</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> They will do so. Now, if it is convenient to you—the festival of
                                <persName>Bacchus</persName>
                     <milestone n="162" unit="line"/>
                     <note anchored="true">"<q>Festival
                                    of <persName>Bacchus</persName>,"
                                    "Dionysia"</q>: It is generally supposed that there were
                                four Festivals called the Dionysia, during the year, at <placeName key="perseus,Athens">Athens</placeName>. The first was the Rural,
                                or Lesser Dionysia, <foreign xml:lang="grc">κατ</foreign> a
                                vintage festival, which was celebrated in the "Demi" or boroughs of
                                    <placeName key="tgn,7002681">Attica</placeName>, in honor of
                                    <persName>Bacchus</persName>, in the month
                                Poseidon. This was the most ancient of the Festivals, and was held
                                with the greatest merriment and freedom; the slaves then enjoyed the
                                same amount of liberty as they did at the Saturnalia at <placeName key="perseus,Rome">Rome</placeName>. The second Festival, which
                                was called the Lenaea, from <foreign xml:lang="grc">ληνὸς,</foreign>
                                a wine-press, was celebrated in the month Gamelion, with Scenic
                                contests in Tragedy and Comedy. The third Dionysian Festival was the
                                Anthesteria, or "Spring feast," being celebrated during three days
                                in the month Anthesterion. The first day was called <foreign xml:lang="grc">πιθοίγια,</foreign> or "the Opening of the casks,"
                                as on that day the casks were opened to taste the wine of the
                                precedingyear. The second day was called <foreign xml:lang="grc">χοες,</foreign> from <foreign xml:lang="grc">χου</foreign> "a
                                cup," and was probably devoted to drinking. The third day was called
                                    <foreign xml:lang="grc">χυτροὶ,</foreign> from <foreign xml:lang="grc">χυτρὸς,</foreign> "a pot," as on it persons offered
                                pots with flower-seeds or cooked vegetables to Dionysus or
                                    <persName>Bacchus</persName>. The fourth
                                Attic festival of Dionysius was celebrated in the month
                                Elaphebolion, and was called the Dionysia <foreign xml:lang="grc">ἐν</foreign> or <foreign xml:lang="grc">Μεγαλὰ,</foreign> the "City" or "great" festival. It was
                                celebrated with great magnificence, processions and dramatic
                                representations forming part of the ceremonial. From <placeName key="tgn,1000074">Greece</placeName>, by way of <placeName key="tgn,7003122">Sicily</placeName>, the Bacchanalia, or
                                festivals of Bacchus, were introduced into <placeName key="perseus,Rome">Rome</placeName>, where they became the
                                scenes of and pretext for every kind of vice and debauchery, until
                                at length they were put down in the year n.c. 187, with a strong
                                hand, by the Consuls Spurius Posthumius Albinus and Q. Marcius
                                Philippus; from which period the words "bacchor" and "bacchator"
                                became synonymous with the practice of every kind of vice and
                                turpitude that could outrage common decency. See a very full account
                                of the Dionysia and the Bacchanalia in Dr. Smith's Dictionary of
                                Greek and Roman Antiquities.</note> is being kept here to-day—I
                            wish you to give me your company. </p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> I can not.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> Why not? Do, pray, spare yourself a little while. Your absent son would
                            wish you do so.</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> It is not right that I, who have driven him hence to endure hardships,
                            should now shun them myself.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> Is such your determination?</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> It is.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> Then kindly fare you wall.</p></sp><sp><speaker>MENEDEMUS</speaker><p> And you the same. <stage>Goes into his house.</stage>
                        </p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p><stage>to himself.</stage> He has forced tears from me, and I do pity
                            him. But as the day is far gone, I must remind Phania, this neighbor of
                            mine, to come to dinner. I'll go see whether he is at home. <stage>Goes
                                to PHANIA'S door, makes the inquiry, and returns.</stage> There was
                            no occasion for me to remind him: they tell me he has been some time
                            already at my house; it's I myself am making my guests wait. I'll go
                            in-doors immediately. But what means the noise at the door of my house?
                            I wonder who's coming out! I'll step aside here. <stage>He stands
                                aside.</stage>
                  </p></sp></div><milestone unit="scene" n="2"/><div type="textpart" n="175" subtype="card"><stage>Enter CLITIPHO, from the house of CHREMES.</stage><sp><speaker>CLITIPHO</speaker><p><stage>at the door, to CLINIA within.</stage> There is nothing, Clinia,
                            for you to fear as yet: they have not been long by any means: and I am
                            sure that she will be with you presently along with the messenger. Do at
                            once dismiss these causeless apprehensions which are tormenting you.
                        </p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p><stage>apart.</stage> Who is my son talking to? <stage>Makes his
                                appearance.</stage>
                  </p></sp><sp><speaker>CLITIPHO</speaker><p><stage>to himself.</stage> Here comes my father, whom I wished to see:
                            I'll accost him. Father, you have met me opportunely.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> What is the matter?</p></sp><sp><speaker>CLITIPHO</speaker><p> Do you know this neighbor of ours, Menedemus?</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> Very well.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CLITIPHO</speaker><p> Do you know that he has a son?</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> I have heard that he has; in <placeName key="tgn,1000004">Asia</placeName>.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CLITIPHO</speaker><p> He is not in <placeName key="tgn,1000004">Asia</placeName>, father; he
                            is at :our house.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> What is it you say?</p></sp><sp><speaker>CLITIPHO</speaker><p> Upon his arrival, after he had just landed from the ship, I immediately
                            brought him to dine with us; for from our very childhood upward I have
                            always been on intimate terms with him..</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> You announce to me a great pleasure. How much I wish that Menedemus had
                            accepted my invitation to make one of us: that at my house I might have
                            been the first to surprise him, when not expecting it, with this
                            delight!—and even yet there's time enough—</p></sp><sp><speaker>CLITIPHO</speaker><p> Take care what you do; there is no necessity, father, for doing so.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> For what reason?</p></sp><sp><speaker>CLITIPHO</speaker><p> Why, because he is as yet undetermined what to do with himself. He is
                            but just arrived. He fears every thing; his father's displeasure, and
                            how his mistress may be disposed toward him. He loves her to
                            distraction: on her account, this trouble and going abroad took
                            place.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> I know it.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CLITIPHO</speaker><p> He has just sent a servant into the city to her, and I ordered our Syrus
                            to go with him.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> What does Clinia say?</p></sp><sp><speaker>CLITIPHO</speaker><p> What does he say? That he is wretched.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> Wretched? Whom could we less suppose so? What is there wanting for him
                            to enjoy every thing that among men, in fact, are esteemed as blessings?
                            Parents, a country in prosperity, friends, family, relations, riches?
                            And yet, all these are just according to the disposition of him who
                            possesses them. To him who knows how to use them, they are blessings; to
                            him who does not use them rightly, they are evils. </p></sp><sp><speaker>CLITIPHO</speaker><p> Aye, but lie always was a morose old man; and now I dread nothing more,
                            father, than that in his displeasure he'll be doing something to him
                            more than is justifiable.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> What, he? <stage>Aside.</stage> But I'll restrain myself; for that the
                            other one should be in fear of his father is of service to
                                him.<milestone n="199" unit="line"/>
                     <note anchored="true"><q>Is of service to him</q>: He means that it is
                                to the advantage of Clitipho that Clinia should be seen to stand in
                                awe of his father.</note>
                  </p></sp><sp><speaker>CLITIPHO</speaker><p> What is it you are saying to yourself?</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> I'll tell you. However the case stood, Clinia ought still to have
                            remained at home. Perhaps his father was a little stricter than he
                            liked: he should have put up with it. For whom ought he to bear with, if
                            he would not bear with his own father Was it reasonable that he should
                            live after his son's humor, or his son after his? And as to charging him
                            with harshness, it is not the fact. For the severities of fathers are
                            generally of one character, those I mean who are in some degree
                            reasonable men.<milestone n="205" unit="line"/>
                     <note anchored="true"><q>Reasonable men</q>: "Homo," "a man,"
                                is here put for men in general who are fathers.</note> They do not
                            wish their sons to be always wenching; they do not wish them to be
                            always carousing; they give a limited allowance; and yet all this tends
                            to virtuous conduct. But when the mind, Clitipho, has once enslaved
                            itself by vicious appetites, it must of necessity follow similar
                            pursuits. This is a wise maxim, "to take warning from others of what may
                            be to your own advantage."</p></sp><sp><speaker>CLITIPHO</speaker><p> I believe so.</p></sp><sp><speaker>CHREMES</speaker><p> I'll now go hence in-doors, to see what we have for dinner. Do you,
                            seeing what is the time of day, mind and take care not to be any where
                            out of the way. <stage>Goes into his house, and exit CLITIPHO.</stage>
                        </p></sp></div></div></body></text></TEI>
                </passage>
            </reply>
            </GetPassage>