PSEUDOLUS
(staggering.)
How’s this? And is it the fact? Feet-are you standing or not? Or is it this you want, some; one to pick me up here as I lie? But, by my faith, if I do fall down, yours will be the fault. Are you going to go? Heigho! I must wait upon myself.
This is the great fault in wine; it first lays hold of the feet; ’tis a cunning wrestler. By my faith, assuredly am I now come off right well drenched; with such exquisite viands, with such becoming elegance, in such a delightful place, have we been delightfully entertained.
1250
What’s the need for me to make much prosing? This is the thing for a man, an object for him to pass his life for; here are all pleasures and all delights. I think that the ecstasy is equal to that of the Deities, when the lover embraces his mistress, when he places lip to lip,
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when melting kisses are exchanged, when breast is pressed to breast, or else, if they please, they are locked in strict embrace; then for your most loving mistress, with her white hand, to be pledging you in the luscious goblet, for no one there to be disagreable to another, for no one to be indulging in silly conversation;
1260
for unguents and perfumes, ribbons
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and festive wreaths, to be provided in profusion; and for the rest of the entertainment, too, to be provided in no niggardly style. That no one may have to question me then, in this manner have myself and my young master been spending this day in jollity.
1265
After I had fulfilled all my task just as I intended, the enemy put to flight, I was leaving them reclining and drinking, each lover with his mistress, and my own mistress there as well, indulging heart and soul. But after I had risen, they begged me to dance. After this fashion
(he dances) did I show myself off there quite charmingly, in a master-like style, to wit; for I am
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thoroughly acquainted with the Ionian step. Thus, clad in my little mantle, full of fun, I was stepping about, this way. Some of them clapped me, others cried out for me to dance again. In that same Ionian fashion once again did I begin to take a turn; I presented myself to my mistress,
1275
that she might caress me; as I was pirouetting, down I tumbled: that was the funeral dirge
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for my sport. And so, while I was a-struggling to get up, near—, almost, I mean, I soiled my mantle.
Then, by my troth, I was the cause of plenteous mirth. A goblet was presented me on account of my fall. Forthwith I changed my mantle, and put on this; thence have I come hither, that I might get rid of my surfeit. Now I’m going to my old master, to put him in mind of our bargain. Open-open the door. Hallo, there! Tell Simo, somebody, that I’m here.
1280
(Knocks at the door of SIMO’S house.)
Pseudolus. Plautus. Henry Thomas Riley (Translator). London. 1912.
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