 | The Lots |  |
275
PROLOGUE.
Most excellent spectators! Ye who honourAbove all other things the goddess Faith,
As above all her other votaries
She is best pleas'd with you; I bid you welcome—
If I have spoke your sentiments, declare,
By giving me some mark of approbation,
That I may know, you're from the very opening
Candid and favourable to me—Those
Who chuse old wine to drink, I esteem wise;
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Old comedies—If antique works and words
To modern ye prefer, with equal reason
Ye should prefer old comedies to new ones—
For the new comedies that now come out,
Are baser far than is our new coin'd money—
We, therefore, having heard from public rumour
How earnestly ye long'd to have presented
Before you on the stage, some plays of Plautus,
Revive this antique comedy of his;
Which heretofore by those of the elder class,
Had been receiv'd with approbation.
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They, I'm assur'd, know nothing of the matter;
But I'll endeavour to inform them of it.
When first this comedy was represented,
It far surpass'd all others of that time:
Yet, at that time, liv'd many famous poets,
Who now are gone from hence into that place
Common to all men; but who, though departed,
Continue still to please, and to instruct us,
Better than those now with us.—Therefore I
Most earnestly intreat you all to give
A strict attention to our present scenes—
Cast from your thoughts all care for getting money,
Nor let the debtor fear his creditor.
'Tis a red letter'd day: no business done,
Or at the forum or amongst the bankers.
All's quiet now, and these are halcyon days—
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There is no paying or receiving money.
If then your ears are in a cue to hear,
Give your attention. First I will explain to you
The name of this our comedy—'Tis call'd
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Drawn for by lots—'Twas in that language written
By Diphilus—Our Plautus afterwards
Translated it, and brought it on our stage,
Calling it Casina, a name betokening
That dog-like barking you shall hear anon—
A married man in years lives in this house—
He has a son, which son lives with him here—
He also has a slave here, who is now
In sickness down, and to his bed confin'd—
But heretofore, some sixteen years now past,
This slave, at break of day, beheld a girl
Carried to be expos'd; he to the woman
Who was exposing her, directly went,
And beg'd her she would give the girl to him;
He by entreaty got her, bore her off,
Carried her home directly; to Cleostrata,
His mistress, gave her; beg'd her to take care of her,
And bring her up—Cleostrata complies;
And of her education takes great care;
Scarce less, than if she had been indeed her daughter.
When she grew up to be a woman, Stalino,
For that's the old man's name, fell desperately
In love with her; as did his son, Euthynicus.
Father and son, each muster now their forces,
Unknown howe'er to each other—Now the father,
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To ask her for his wife, in hopes thereby,
Should he succeed, he might then have from home
A friend to toy away an idle hour with,
And his own wife know nothing of the matter.
The son deputes his armour-bearer, bids him
Demand her for his wife; as knowing, should
His deputy obtain her, he himself
Would have the girl he loves in his possession.
The wife begins to smell a rat; and finding
The old man is in love, joins with her son
To make a dupe of him—But he, perceiving
His son to be in love with the same girl,
And that he'd be a hindrance to his passion,
Sends the young man abroad upon his travels.
His mother, conscious of the whole affair,
Takes her son's part, tho' absent—But expect not
To see him make a part of this our comedy;
He'll not return as yet into the city.
Our author did not choose he should—And so
Has broken down the bridge, that as he journey'd
Lay in his way—But it is not improbable
Some of you may be saying 'mongst yourselves,
What is all this about? Marriage with slaves!
Can slaves or ask a wife, or marry one?
This doctrine's new, it never has been practis'd.
But I'll maintain, that both at Greece and Carthage,
And in this very country here, Apulia,
The thing is done—And that the marriages
Of slaves are celebrated with more care
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A jug of wine? and I'll refer it to
A Grecian, Carthaginian, or Apulian.
What now? I find none here will take my bet—
You none of you are thirsty—I return
To the young foundling, her whom the two slaves,
Each by his various arts contends to wed—
She shall be found to be an honest girl,
Free born, and an Athenian: nor shall she
In this our comedy act ought immodestly.
But when the play is ended, if, by Hercules!
Some one among you'll give her a round sum,
She'll marry you, nor wait at all for omens:
I have said what I'd to say. And now farewell:
Attend to what you are about with care,
And, as you've ever done, with your true valour
Prevail over your enemies, and ours.
This Prologue was undoubtedly not written by Plautus, as is apparent from V. 16, &c. but probably, many years after his death, on the revival of some of his pieces; and in particular of this Comedy, in compliance with the taste of the age; or as it is expressed in the original, V. 11. ad populi rumorem.
| The Lots | |