Chapter 1

(Enter SCEPARNIO, with a spade on his shoulder.)

SCEPARNIO: (to himself.) O ye immortal Gods, what a dreadful tempest has Neptune sent us this last night!

The storm has unroofed the cottage. What need of words is there? It was no storm, but what Alcmena met with in Euripides; it has so knocked all the tiles from off the roof; more light has it given us, and has added to our windows.

(Enter PLESIDIPPUS, at a distance, talking with three CITIZENS.)

PLESIDIPPUS: I have both withdrawn you from your avocations, and that has not succeeded on account of which I’ve brought you; I could not catch the Procurer down at the harbour. But I have been unwilling to abandon all hope by reason of my remissness; on that account, my friends, have I the longer detained you. Now hither to the Temple of Venus am I come to see, where he was saying that he was about to perform a sacrifice.

SCEPARNIO: (aloud to himself, at a distance.) If I am wise, I shall be getting ready this clay that is awaiting me. (Falls to work digging.)

PLESIDIPPUS: (looking round.) Some one, I know not who, is speaking near to me. (Enter DAEMONES, from his house.)

DAEMONES: Hallo! Sceparnio!

SCEPARNIO: Who’s calling me by name?

DAEMONES: He who paid his money for you.

SCEPARNIO: (turning round.) As though you would say, Daemones, that I am your slave.

DAEMONES: There’s occasion for plenty of clay, therefore dig up plenty of earth. I find that the whole of my cottage must be covered; for now it’s shining through it, more full of holes than a sieve.

PLESIDIPPUS: (advancing.) Health to you, good father, and to both of you, indeed.

DAEMONES: Health to you.

SCEPARNIO: (to PLESIDIPPUS, who is muffled up in a coat.) But whether are you male or female, who are calling him father?

PLESIDIPPUS: Why really, I’m a man.

DAEMONES: Then, man, go seek a father elsewhere.

I once had an only daughter, that only one I lost. Of the male sex I never had a child.

PLESIDIPPUS: But the Gods will give—

SCEPARNIO: (going on digging.) A heavy mischance to you indeed, I’ faith, whoever you are, who are occupying us, already occupied, with your prating.

PLESIDIPPUS: (pointing to the cottage.) Pray are you dwelling there?

SCEPARNIO: Why do you ask that? Are you reconnoitring the place for you to come and rob there?

PLESIDIPPUS: It befits a slave to be right rich in his savings, whom, in the presence of his master, the conversation cannot escape, or who is to speak rudely to a free man.

SCEPARNIO: And it befits a man to be shameless and impudent, for him to whom there’s nothing owing, of his own accord to come to the house of another person annoying people.

DAEMONES: Sceparnio, hold your tongue.

(To PLESIDIPPUS.) What do you want, young man?

PLESIDIPPUS: A mishap to that fellow, who is in a hurry to be the first to speak when his master’s present.

But, unless it’s troublesome, I wish to make enquiry of you in a few words.

DAEMONES: My attention shall be given you, even though in the midst of business.

SCEPARNIO: (to PLESIDIPPUS.) Rather, be off with you to the marsh, and cut down some reeds, with which we may cover the cottage, while it is fine weather.

DAEMONES: Hold your tongue. Do you tell me (to PLESIDIPPUS) if you have need of anything.

PLESIDIPPUS: Inform me on what I ask you;

whether you have seen here any frizzle-headed fellow, with grey hair, a worthless, perjured, fawning knave.

DAEMONES: Full many a one; for by reason of fellows of that stamp am I living in misery.

PLESIDIPPUS: Him, I mean, who brought with him to the Temple of Venus here two young women, and who was to make preparations for himself to perform a sacrifice either to-day or yesterday.

DAEMONES: By my faith, young man, for these very many days past I haven’t seen any one sacrificing there; and yet it can’t be unknown to me if any one does sacrifice there. They are always asking here for water, or for fire, or for vessels, or for a knife, or for a spit, or for a pot for cooking, or something or other. What need is there of words? I procured my vessels and my well, for the use of Venus, and not my own. There has now been a cessation of it for these many days past.

PLESIDIPPUS: According to the words you utter, you tell me I’m undone.

DAEMONES: Really, so far as I’m concerned, I’ faith, you may be safe and sound.

SCEPARNIO: (stopping in his digging.) Hark you, you that are roaming about Temples for the sake of your stomach,’twere better for you to order a breakfast to be got ready at home.

Perhaps you’ve been invited here to breakfast. He that invited you, hasn’t he come at all?

PLESIDIPPUS: ’Tis the fact.

SCEPARNIO: There’s no risk then in your betaking yourself hence home without your breakfast.

It’s better for you to be a waiter upon Ceres than upon Venus; the latter attends to love, Ceres attends to wheat.

PLESIDIPPUS: (to DAEMONES.) This fellow has been making sport of me in a digraceful manner.

DAEMONES: (looking out at the side.) O ye immortal Gods, Sceparnio, what means those people near the sea-shore?

SCEPARNIO: According to my notion, they’ve been invited to a parting breakfast.

DAEMONES: How so?

SCEPARNIO: Why, because, after dinner, I fancy, they yesterday washed themselves clean;

their ship has gone to pieces out at sea.

DAEMONES: (looking steadfastly.) Such is the fact.

SCEPARNIO: But, I’ faith, on dry land our cottage and tiles have done the same.

DAEMONES: Oh dear! what unfortunate creatures you are; (to SCEPARNIO) how the shipwrecked people are swimming.

PLESIDIPPUS: Prithee, where are these people?

DAEMONES: (pointing to the distance.) This way, to the right; don’t you see them near the shore?

PLESIDIPPUS: (looking the same way.) I see them; (to his FRIENDS) follow me. I only wish it may be he that I’m seeking, that most accursed fellow. (To DAEMONES and SCEPARNIO.) Fare you well.

SCEPARNIO: If you hadn’t put us in mind, we should have thought of that ourselves.

(Exeunt PLESIDIPPUS and FRIENDS. SCEPARNIO looks out towards the sea.) But, O Palaemon, hallowed associate of Neptune, who art said to be the partner of Hercules, what shocking thing do I see?

DAEMONES: What do you see?

SCEPARNIO: I see two young women sitting in a boat alone. How the poor things are being tossed about That’s good, that’s good, well done.

The surge is driving the boat away from the rock towards the shore. Not a pilot could have ever done it better. I don’t think that I ever saw billows more huge. They are saved, if they can escape those waves. Now, now’s the danger; it has sent one overboard!

See you that one whom the waves have thrown out of the boat?

Still, she’s in a shallow place; she’ll easily wade through it now. O capital!

now she’s safe; she has escaped from the water; she’s now on shore. But that other one has now sprung towards the land from the boat—from her alarm she has fallen into the waves upon her knees.

She has got up again; if she takes this direction, the matter’s safe; (a pause) but she has taken to the right, to utter destruction. Ah, she will be wandering all the day—

DAEMONES: What signifies that to you?

SCEPARNIO: If she should fall down from that rock towards which she is wending her way, she’ll be putting a period to her wandering.

DAEMONES: If you are about to dine this evening at their expense, I think you may then be concerned for them, Sceparnio; if you are going to eat at my house, I wish your services to be devoted to myself.

SCEPARNIO: You ask what’s good and proper.

DAEMONES: Then follow me this way.

SCEPARNIO: I follow. (Exeunt.)

(Enter PALAESTRA, at a distance, with her clothes torn and drenched.)

PALAESTRA: (to herself.) By heavens, the mishaps of mortals are spoken of as much less bitter than the sharp pangs that are inflicted in the experience of them Has this then pleased the Deity, that I, clad in this guise, should, in my terror, be cast upon a spot unknown? Shall I then declare that I have been born to this wretched lot?

Do I receive this meed in return for my exemplary piety? For to me it would not prove a hardship to endure this laborious lot, if I had conducted myself undutifully towards my parents or the Gods; but if studiously I have exerted myself to beware of that, then, unduly and unjustly,

Deities, you send upon me this. For what henceforth shall the glaringly impious receive, if after this fashion you pay honor to the guiltless? But if I knew that I or my parents had done anything wicked, now should I have grieved the less. But the wickedness of this master of mine is pressing hard upon me, his impiety is causing my woes; everything has he lost in the sea;

these are the remains (looking at her dress) of his property. Even she, who was carried together with me in the boat, was washed out by the violence of the waves; I am now alone. If she at least had been saved for me, through her aid my affliction here would have been lighter to me. Now, what hope or aid or what counsel shall I receive, a spot so lonesome here have I lighted upon alone? Here are the rocks, here roars the sea, and not one individual comes across my path. This dress that I am clothed in forms all my riches quite entirely; nor know I with what food or roof I am to be provided. What hope have I through which to desire to live?

Neither am I acquainted with the place, nor was I ever here before. At least I could have wished for some one who would point out to me either a road or a path from these spots; so much am I now at a loss for advice whether to go this way or that; neither, indeed, do I see anywhere near here a cultivated spot.

Cold, distraction, and alarm, have taken possession of all my limbs. My parents, you know not of this, that I am now thus wretched; I that was born a woman entirely free, was so to no purpose. Am I at all the less in servitude now, than if I had been born a slave? And never in any way has it been a profit to those who for their own sakes reared me up. (She advances forward, and rests on one side against the cliff.)

(Enter AMPELISCA, at a distance, on the other side of the stage, in a similar condition.)

AMPELISCA: (to herself.) What is there better for me, what more to my advantage, than to shut out life from my body? So wretched am I in my existence, and so many deadening cares are there in my breast; so despicable is my lot; I care not for my life; I have lost the hope with which I used to comfort myself. All places have I now rambled about, and through each covert spot have I crawled along, to seek my fellow-slave with voice, eyes, ears, that I might trace her out.

And still I find her nowhere, nor have I yet determined whither to go, nor where to seek her, nor, in the meantime, do I find any person here to give me an answer, of whom I might make enquiry. No place, too, is there on earth more solitary than are these spots and this locality. And yet, if she lives, never while I exist will I cease before I discover her alive.

PALAESTRA: (aloud.) Whose voice is it that sounds close by me here?

AMPELISCA: (starting.) I am alarmed. Who’s speaking near me?

PALAESTRA: Prithee, kind Hope, do come to my aid.

AMPELISCA: It’s a woman: a woman’s voice reaches my ears.

Will you not rescue wretched me from this alarm?

PALAESTRA: Surely a woman’s voice reached my ears.

Prithee is it Ampelisca?

AMPELISCA: Is it you, Palaestra, that I hear?

PALAESTRA: But why don’t I call her by her own name, that she may hear me? (With a loud voice.) Ampelisca!

AMPELISCA: Ha! who’s that?

PALAESTRA: ’Tis I.

AMPELISCA: Is it Palaestra?

PALAESTRA: It is.

AMPELISCA: Tell me where you are.

PALAESTRA: Troth, I’m now in the midst of a multitude of woes.

AMPELISCA: I am your partner; and no less is my own share than yours.

But I long to see you.

PALAESTRA: In that wish you are my rival.

AMPELISCA: Let’s follow our voices with our steps; where are you?

PALAESTRA: See, here am I. Step onward towards me, and come straight on to meet me.

AMPELISCA: I’m doing so with care. (They meet in front of the stage.)

PALAESTRA: Give me your hand.

AMPELISCA: Take it.

PALAESTRA: Are you still alive? Prithee, tell me.

AMPELISCA: You, indeed, make me now wish to live, since I’m empowered to touch you. How hardly can I persuade myself of this, that I am holding you. Prithee, do embrace me (they embrace), my only hope; how you are now easing me of all my woes.

PALAESTRA: You are beforehand with me in using expressions which belong to me. Now it befits us to be going hence.

AMPELISCA: Prithee, whither shall we go?

PALAESTRA: Let’s keep along this sea-shore. (Pointing to the shore.)

AMPELISCA: Wherever you please, I’ll follow.

PALAESTRA: Shall we go along thus with our wet clothing?

AMPELISCA: That which exists, the same must of necessity be borne. (Looking up at the Temple.) But, pray, what’s this?

PALAESTRA: What is it?

AMPELISCA: Prithee, don’t you see this Temple? (Pointing towards it.)

PALAESTRA: Where is it?

AMPELISCA: On the right hand.

PALAESTRA: I seem to be looking at a place becoming the Divinities.

AMPELISCA: There must be people not far hence; it is so delightful a spot. Whoever the God is, I pray him to relieve us from these troubles, and to succour us females, wretched, helpless, and in distress. (They advance towards the Temple, and kneel down before it.)

(Enter PTOLEMOCRATIA, the Priestess, from the Temple of Venus.)

PTOLEMOCRATIA: Who are these, that in their prayers are soliciting aid from my Patroness?

For the voice of suppliants has brought me hither out of doors. They pay suit to a kind and compliant Goddess and a Patroness that makes no difficulties, and one who is very benevolent.

PALAESTRA: Mother, we bid you hail.

PTOLEMOCRATIA: Maidens, hail to you. But, prithee, whence am I to say that you are hither come with your wet garments, thus wofully arrayed?

PALAESTRA: Just now, we came from a place there (pointing towards the shore), not a great way from this spot; but it is a great way off from here, whence we have been brought hither.

PTOLEMOCRATIA: Have you been borne, do you mean, by a ship, the wooden steed, over the azure paths?

PALAESTRA: Even so.

PTOLEMOCRATIA: Then it were more fitting that you should have come arrayed in white and provided with victims; it isn’t the practice for people to come to this Temple in that fashion. (Pointing at their dresses.)

PALAESTRA: Prithee, whence would you have us, who have been both cast away at sea, to be bringing victims hither? Now, in want of assistance, do we embrace your knees, we who are of hopes undefined in places unknown, that you may receive us under your roof and shelter us, and that you will pity the miseries of us both, who have neither any place of refuge nor hope at hand, nor have anything whatever of our own beyond that which you see.

PTOLEMOCRATIA: Give me your hands, arise, both of you, from off your knees; no one among women is more compassionate than I. (They arise from the ground.) But, maidens, my circumstances are poor and limited; with difficulty I support my own existence; Venus I serve for my maintenance.

AMPELISCA: Prithee, is this a Temple of Venus?

PTOLEMOCRATIA: I will admit it; I am styled the Priestess of this Temple. But whatever it is, it shall be done by me with a hearty welcome, so far as my means shall suffice. Come with me this way.

PALAESTRA: Kindly and attentively, mother, do you show your attentions to us.

PTOLEMOCRATIA: So I ought to do. (They go into the Temple.)