Scene II
Enter Menedemus.
Mene. (to himself). Sure I’m by nature form’d for misery
Beyond the rest of humankind, or else
’Tis a false saying, though a common one,
“That time assuages grief.” For ev’ry day
My sorrow for the absence of my son
Grows on my mind: the longer he’s away,
The more impatiently I wish to see him,
The more pine after him.
Chrem. But he’s come forth. (Seeing Menedemus.)
Yonder he stands. I’ll go and speak with him.
Good-morrow, neighbor! I have news for you;
Such news as you’ll be overjoy’d to hear.
Mene. Of my son, Chremes?
Chrem. He’s alive and well.
Mene. Where?
Chrem. At my house.
Mene. My son?
Chrem. Your son.
Mene. Come home?
Chrem. Come home.
Mene. My dear boy come? my Clinia?
Chrem. He.
Mene. Away then! prithee, bring me to him.
Chrem. Hold!
He cares not you should know of his return,
And dreads your sight because of his late trespass.
He fears, besides, your old severity
Is now augmented.
Mene. Did not you inform him
The bent of my affections?
Chrem. Not I.
Mene. Wherefore, Chremes?
Chrem. Because ’twould injure both yourself and him
To seem of such a poor and broken spirit.
Mene. I can not help it. Too long, much too long,
I’ve been a cruel father.
Chrem. Ah, my friend,
You run into extremes; too niggardly,
Or, too profuse; imprudent either way.
First, rather than permit him entertain
A mistress, who was then content with little,
And glad of any thing, you drove him hence:
Whereon the girl was forc’d against her will,
To grow a common gamester for her bread:
And now she can’t be kept without much cost,
You’d squander thousands. For to let you know
How admirably madam’s train’d to mischief,
How finely form’d to ruin her admirers,
She came to my house yesternight with more
Than half a score of women at her tail,
Laden with clothes and jewels.—If she had
A Prince to her gallant, he could not bear
Such wild extravagance: much less can you.
Mene. Is she within too?
Chrem. She within! Aye, truly.
I’ve found it to my cost: for I have given
To her and her companions but one supper;
And to give such another would undo me.
For, not to dwell on other circumstances,
Merely to taste, and smack, and spirt about.
What quantities of wine has she consum’d!
This is too rough, she cries; some softer, pray!
I have pierc’d every vessel, ev’ry cask;
Kept ev’ry servant running to and fro:
All this ado, and all in one short night!
What, Menedemus, must become of you,
Whom they will prey upon continually?
Now, afore Heaven, thinking upon this,
I pitied you.
Mene. Why let him have his will;
Waste, consume, squander; I’ll endure it all,
So I but keep him with me.
So I but have him with me.
Chrem. If resolv’d
To take that course, I hold it of great moment
That he perceive not you allow of this.
Mene. What shall I do then?
Chrem. Any thing much rather
Than what you mean to do: at second-hand
Supply him; or permit his slave to trick you;
Though I perceive they’re on that scent already,
And privately contriving how to do’t.
There’s Syrus, and that little slave of yours
In an eternal whisper: the young men
Consulting too together: and it were
Better to lose a talent by these means,
Than on your plan a mina: for at present
Money is not the question, but the means
To gratify the youth the safest way.
For if he once perceives your turn of mind,
That you had rather throw away your life,
And waste your whole estate, than part with him,
Ah, what a window to debauchery
You’ll open, Menedemus! Such a one,
As will embitter even life itself;
And that you’d rather hazard life, and wealth,
Than part from him; ah, Menedemus, what
A window to debauchery you’ll open!
Nay, life itself will grow a burden to you;
For too much liberty corrupts us all.
Whatever comes into his head, he’ll have;
Nor think if his demand be right or wrong.
You, on your part, to see your wealth and son
Both wreck’d, will not be able to endure.
You’ll not comply with his demands; whereon
He falls to his old fence immediately,
And knowing where your weak part lies, will threaten
To leave you instantly.
Mene. ’Tis very like.
Chrem. Now on my life I have not clos’d my eyes,
Nor had a single wink of sleep this night,
For thinking how I might restore your son.
Mene. Give me your hand: and let me beg you, Chremes,
Continue to assist me!
Chrem. Willingly.
Mene. D’ye know what I would have you do at present?
Chrem. What?
Mene. Since you have found out they meditate
Some practice on me, prithee, urge them on
To execute it quickly: for I long
To grant his wishes, long to see him straight.
Chrem. Let me alone. I must lay hold of Syrus,
And give him some encouragement.—But see!
Some one, I know not who, comes forth: In, in,
Lest they perceive that we consult together!
I have a little business too in hand.
Simus and Crito, our two neighbors here,
Have a dispute about their boundaries;
And they’ve referr’d it to my arbitration,
I’ll go and tell them, ’tis not in my power
To wait on them, as I propos’d to-day.
I will be with you presently.
Mene. Pray do.
Exit Chremes.
Gods! that the nature of mankind is such,
To see and judge of the affairs of others
Much better than their own! Is’t therefore so,
Because that, in our own concerns, we feel
The influence of joy or grief too nearly?
Too much the influence of joy or sorrow?
How much more wisely does my neighbor here,
Consult for me, than I do for myself!
Chrem. (returning.) I’ve disengag’d myself! that I might be
At leisure to attend on your affairs.
Exit Menedemus.