Tynd. But when you shall have gained the point you aim at, Forget not then!-It is too oft the way

With most men ;-when they're suing for a favor,

While their obtaining it is yet in doubt,

They are most courteous, but when once they've got it,

They change their manners, and from just become

Dishonest and deceitful.-I now think you

All that I wish, and what I do advise

I would advise the same unto my father.

Phil. And verily, if I durst, I'd call you father;
For next my father you are nearest to me.
Tynd. I understand.

Phil.

Then what I oft have urg'd,
Remember.-I no longer am your master,
But now your servant.-This I beg then of you-
Since the immortal gods will have it so,
That I, from being once your master, now
Should be your fellow-slave, I do entreat,
By Prayer,' a favor which I could command,
Once as my right.-By our uncertain state,
By all my father's kindness shown unto you,
By our joint fellowship in slavery,

Th' event of war, bear me the same regard,
As once I bore you, when I was your master,

And you my slave; forget not to remember,

What once you have been, and who now you are.

Tynd. I know-I now am you, and you are I.

Phil. Forget not-and there's hope our scheme will prosper.

SCENE II.

Enter HEGIO speaking to those within.

When I'm inform'd of what I want to know,

I shall come in again.-Where are those captives,

I ordered to be brought before the house?

Phil. Chain'd as we are, and wall'd in by our keepers,

You have provided that we shall not fail

To answer to your call.

Heg.
The greatest care
Is scarce enough to guard against deceit;
And the most cautious, even when he thinks
He's most upon his guard, is often trick'd.
But have I not just cause to watch you well,

When I have bought you with so large a sum?

Phil. Twould not be right in us to blame you for it;
Nor, should occasion offer to escape,

Would it be right in you to censure us,

That we made use of it.

Per Precem. According to Homer, who makes Prayer a goddess, and one of the daughters of Jupiter.

B. C. 254-184.]

Heg.

PLAUTUS.

As you are here,

Yes, he is.

So in your country is my son confin'd.
Phil. What! Is your son a captive?
Heg.

Phil. We are not then, it seems, the only cowards.
Heg. (to Phil. supposing him servant to Tynd.)

Come nearer this way-something I would know
In private of you-and in which affair
You must adhere to truth.

-Which would you choose?

To be a slave, or have your freedom? tell me.
Phil. That I prefer, which nearest is to good,
And farthest off from evil :-though, I own,
My servitude was little grievous to me;

They treated me the same as their own child.

Tynd. (aside.) Bravo!-I would not give a talent now

To purchase even Thales the Milesian;

A very oaf in wisdom match'd with this man:

How cleverly does he adapt his phrase

To suit a slave's condition.

Heg.

Is this Philocrates?

Phil.

Of what family

The Polyphusian,

A potent and most honorable house!

Heg. What honors held he in his country?

Phil.

Such as the chief men can alone attain to.

Heg. Seeing his rank's so noble, as you say,

What is his substance?

Phil.

As to that, the old one

Is very warm.

Heg.

His father's living, then?

High ones,

Philocrates, your

Phil. We left him so, when we departed thence;

But whether he is now alive or no,

You must ask further of the nether regions.

Heg. (addressing Tyndarus as Philocrates.)

servant

Has acted as behoves an honest fellow.

I've learn'd of him your family:-he has own'd it:
Do you the same; 'twill turn to your advantage—
If you confess what, be assur'd, I know

Tynd.
When he confess'd the truth to you-although
I would have fain conceal'd from you my state,
My family, and my means.-But now alas!
Since I have lost my country and my freedom,
Can I suppose it right, that he should dread
Me before you? The power of war has sunk
My fortunes to a level with his own.
Time was, he dar'd not to offend in word,
Though now he may in deed. -Do you not mark,

How Fortune moulds and fashions human beings,
Just as she pleases? Me, who once was free,

She has made a slave, from highest thrown me down
To lowest state:-Accustom'd to command,

I now abide the bidding of another.

Yet if my master bear him with like sway,

As when myself did lord it over mine,

I have no dread, that his authority

Will deal or harshly or unjustly with me.—
So far I wished you to be made acquainted,
If peradventure you dislike it not.

Heg. Speak on, and boldly.

Tynd.

I ere this was free »

As your own son.-Him has the power of war
Depriv'd of liberty, as it has me.

He in my country is a slave-as now

I am a slave in this.-There is indeed

A God, that hears and sees whate'er we do:-
As you respect me, so will He respect
Your lost son.-To the well-deserving, good
Will happen, to the ill-deserving, ill.-
Think, that my father feels the want of me,
As much as you do of your son.
Heg.

I know it.-
But say, will you subscribe to the account
Your servant gave?

Tynd.

My father's rich, I own,
My family is noble ;-but, I pray you,
Let not the thought of these my riches bend
Your mind to sordid avarice, lest my father,
Though I'm his only child, should deem it fitter
I were your slave, clothed, pamper'd at your cost,
Than beg my bread in my own country, where
It were a foul disgrace.

Heg.

Thanks to the gods,

And to my ancestors, I'm rich enough;
Nor do I hold, that every kind of gain

Is always serviceable.—Gain, I know,

Has render'd many great.-But there are times,
When loss should be preferr'd to gain.-I hate it,
"Tis my aversion, money:-many a man
Has it enticed oft-times to wrong.-But now
Attend to me, that you may know my mind.
My son's a captive and a slave of Elis:-
If you restore him to me, I require
No other recompense ;--I'll send you back,
You and your servant :-on no other terms
Can you go hence.

Tynd.
You ask what's right and just,
Thou best of men!-But is your son a servant
Of the public, or some private person?

Heg. A private--of Menarchus, a physician.

Phil. O, 'tis his father's client;-and success
Pours down upon you, like a hasty shower.
Heg. Find means then to redeem my son.
Tynd.

But I must ask you

Heg.

Ask me what you will,

I'll do't-if to that purpose.
Tynd.

Hear, and judge.

I do not ask you, till your son's return
To grant me a dismission; but, I pray you,
Give me my slave, a price set on his head,
That I may send him forthwith to my father,
To work your son's redemption.

Нед.

I'd despatch

Some other rather, when there is a truce,
Your father to confer with, who may bear

Any commands you shall intrust him with.

I'll find them.

Tynd. Twould be in vain to send a stranger to him: You'd lose your labor:-Send my servant:-he'll Complete the whole, as soon as he arrives.

A man more faithful you can never send,

Nor one my father sooner would rely on,

More to his mind, nor to whose care and confidence

He'd sooner trust your son.-Then never fear:

At my own peril will I prove his faith,

Relying on his nature, since he knows

I've borne me with benevolence towards him.

Heg. Well-I'll despatch him, if you will-your word Pawn'd for his valuation.

Tynd.

Prithee do,

And let him be dismiss'd without delay.

Heg. Can you show reason, if he don't return,

Why you should not pay twenty mine for him?

Tynd. No, surely: I agree.
Heg.

And take them off from both.

Take off his chains

May all the gods

Tynd.
Grant all your wishes! Since that you have deign'd
To treat me with such favor, and releas'd me
From my vile bonds :-I scarce can think it irksome
To have my neck free from this galling collar.
leg. The favors we confer on honest souls
Teem with returns of service to the giver.

But now, if you'd despatch him hence, acquaint him,
Give him your orders, and forthwith instruct him
What you would have him say unto your father.
Shall I then call him to you?

Tynd.

Do, sir-call him.

About three hundred and fifty dollars.

THE MISER, OR POT OF GOLD.1

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Enter STROBILUS.

'Tis a good servant's duty to behave
As I do-to obey his master's orders
Without delay or grumbling for whoever
Seeks to demean him to his master's liking,
Ought to be quick in what concerns his master,
And slow to serve himself: his very dreams,
When sleeping, should remind him what he is.
If any serve a master that's in love

(As I do for example), and he find
His passion has subdued him, 'tis his duty
To keep him back, restrain him for his good,
Not push him forward, where his inclinations
Hurry him on. As boys that learn to swim,
Rest on a kind of raft compos'd of rushes,
That they may labor less, and move their hands,

The Aulularia is principally occupied with the display of the character of a miser. No vice has been so often pelted with the good sentences of moralists, or so often ridiculed on the stage, as avarice; and of all the characters that have been there represented, that of the miser in the Aulularia of Plautus is, perhaps, the most entertaining and best supported. Comic dramas have been divided into those of intrigue and character, and the Aulularia is chiefly of the latter description. It is so termed from Aula, or Olla, the diminutive of which is Aulula, signifying the little earthen pot that contained a treasure which had been concealed by his grandfather, but had been discovered by Euclio the miser, who is the principal character of the play. He, having found the treasure, employs himself in guarding it, and lives in continual apprehension, lest it should be discovered that he possesses it. Accordingly, he is brought on the stage driving off his servant, that she may not spy him while visiting this hoard, and afterwards giving directions of the strictest economy. He then leaves home on an errand very happily imagined-an attendance at a public distribution of money to the poor. Megadorus now proposes to marry his daughter, and Euclio comically enough supposes that he has discovered something concerning his newly acquired wealth; but on his offering to take her without a portion, he is tranquillized, and agrees to the match. Knowing the disposition of his intended father-in-law, Megadorus sends provisions to his house, and also cooks, to prepare a marriage feast; but the miser turns them out, and keeps what they had brought. At length his alarm for discovery rises to such a height, that he hides his treasures in a grove, consecrated to Sylvanus, which lay beyond the walls of the city. While thus employed, he is observed by the slave of Lyconides, the young man who had run off with the miser's daughter. Euclio coming to recreate himself with the sight of his gold, finds that it is gone. Returning home in despair, he is met by Lyconides, who, hearing of the projected nuptials between his uncle and the miser's daughter, now apologizes for his conduct; but the miser applies all that he says concerning his daughter to his lost treasure.