Scene IV.
Henry T. (Henry Thomas) Riley translation
Enter Pamphilus and Parmeno, from the house of Laches, on the other side of the stage.
Pam. Once more, take care, will you, my dear Parmeno, that you have brought me a faithful and distinct account, so as not to allure me for a short time to indulge in these transient joys.
Par. I have taken care.
Pam. For certain?
Par. For certain.
Pam. I am quite a God, if it is so!
Par. You’ll find it true.
Pam. Just stay, will you; I fear that I’m believing one thing, and you are telling another.
Par. I am staying.
Pam. I think you said to this effect—that Myrrhina had discovered that Bacchis has her ring.
Par. It is the fact.
Pam. The one I formerly gave to her; and she has desired you to tell me this: is such the fact?
Par. Such is so, I tell you.
Pam. Who is there happier than I, and, in fact, more full of joyousness? What am I to present you for these tidings? What?—what? I know not.
Par. But I know.
Pam. What?
Par. Why, nothing; for neither in the tidings nor in myself do I know of there being any advantage to you.
Pam. What! am I to suffer you, who have caused me, when dead, to be restored from the shades to life—to leave me unrewarded? Oh, you deem me too thankless! But look—I see Bacchis standing before the door; she’s waiting for me, I suppose; I’ll accost her.
Bacch. Save you, Pamphilus!
Pam. Oh Bacchis! Oh my Bacchis—my preserver!
Bacch. It is a fortunate thing, and gives me great delight.
Pam. By your actions, you give me reason to believe you, and so much do you retain your former charming qualities, that wherever you go, the meeting with you, your company, your conversation, always give pleasure.
Bacch. And you, upon my word, possess your former manners and disposition; so much so that not a single man living is more engaging than you.
Pam. (laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! do you tell me so?
Bacch. You had reason, Pamphilus, for being so fond of your wife. For never before to-day did I set eyes upon her, so as to know her: she seems a very gentle person.
Pam. Tell the truth.
Bacch. So may the Gods bless me, Pamphilus!
Pam. Tell me, have you as yet told any of these matters to my father?
Bacch. Not a word.
Pam. Nor is there need, in fact; therefore keep it a secret: I don’t wish it to be the case here as it is in the Comedies,62 where every thing is known to every body. Here, those who ought to know, know already; but those who ought not to know, shall neither hear of it nor know it.
Bacch. Nay more, I will give you a proof why you may suppose that this may be the more easily concealed. Myrrhina has told Phidippus to this effect—that she has given credit to my oath, and that, in consequence, in her eyes you are exculpated.
Pam. Most excellent; and I trust that this matter will turn out according to our wishes.
Par. Master, may I not be allowed to know from you what is the good that I have done to-day, or what it is you are talking about?
Pam. You may not.
Par. Still I suspect. “I restore him, when dead, from the shades below.”63 In what way?
Pam. You don’t know, Parmeno, how much you have benefited me to-day, and from what troubles you have extricated me.
Par. Nay, but indeed I do know: and I did not do it without design.
Pam. I know that well enough (ironically).
Bacch. Could Parmeno, from negligence, omit any thing that ought to be done?
Pam. Follow me in, Parmeno.
Par. I’ll follow; for my part, I have done more good to-day, without knowing it, than ever I did, knowingly, in all my life. (Coming forward.) Grant us your applause.64