Plautus, Pseudolus 133-234: English Translation

BALLIO: Get out here, get moving, get out here, you worthless clods, bad to have and bad to have bought in the first place. Never has it ever come into any of your minds to do anything at all right. Unless I try this way [he swings his whip], I can’t get any use out of you. I never saw any men who were more like donkeys: your hides are so calloused by blows. When you strike them, it hurts you more than them: they’re such whipping posts by nature. This is their plan: when they get the chance it’s snatch, steal, grab, harpoon, drink, eat, flee. This is their duty: you’d be better off to put wolves in charge of sheep than to leave these guys to watch the house. But when you take a look at their faces, they don’t seem so bad: they trick you on purpose. Now, unless you all pay attention to this decree of mine, unless you get the sleep and sloth out of your minds and eyes, I’ll decorate your hides with lashes so thoroughly that not even Campanian curtains and embroidered Alexandrian tapestry are as colorful. I already made decrees for all of you yesterday, and I handed out your provinces; but you are so negligent and have such bad natures, that you force me to remind you of your duty with punishment. Really, that’s the way your minds are: your stubbornness is too much for this [he shows his whip] and for me. Just look at this, look how off task they are! Come on, pay attention! Listen to what I’m saying, you race of whipping posts. I tell you, your hides will never be tougher than this hide I’ve got [he lashes one of the slaves with his whip]. So, does that hurt? Well, that’s what happens whenever a slave scorns his master. All right, all of you stand in front of me and pay attention to what I have to say. You, who have the urn: bring in water, see to it that the pot is full for the cook. To you with the axe I assign the province of woodcutting. SLAVE. But this one is worn down. BA. So be it. You are all worn down from being beaten: do I get any less work out of you? You I assign the province of making the house shine. You know what you have to do: hurry and go inside. You be the couch-arranger. You wash the silver. You lay it out. See to it that when I come back from the forum I find all these things done, turned, spread, polished, strewn, washed and anointed. For today is my birthday: all of you should celebrate it with me. See to it that ham, meat, sweetbread, and sow’s udder are lying in water. Do you hear me? I want to receive the leading citizens gloriously, so they think I have money. Go inside and do these things tout de suite, so there is no delay when the cook comes. I’m going to the market so I can bargain for whatever fish is for sale there. Boy, go on ahead. We have to take care that no one pierces my purse. No, wait, I almost forgot something at home. [singing back inside the house] Do you hear me? Women, I have this edict for you. You famous courtesans, who live your little lives in elegance, softness, and delights, with the leading citizens: now, today, I’ll know, I’ll find out, which of you looks out more for her head, which for her stomach, and which one is eager for her own well-being, which one for sleep. I’ll find out today which of you I’ll free and which I’ll sell. See to it that lots of gifts from lovers get piled up here today. For unless I get a year’s supply of provisions today, tomorrow I’ll turn you all into streetwalkers. You know today is my birthday. Where are all those men for whom you are their eyes, their lives, their delights, their kisses, their breasts, their little sweethearts? Make sure they’re here in front of the house in droves, bringing gifts. Why do I provide you with clothing, gold and the things useful to you? What do I get at home besides trouble from what you do? You’re worthless, and all you ever want is wine. You Pseudolus 133-234, English even get yourselves and your insides sloshed, while I’m over here dry. Now the best thing for me to do is to call each of you by name, so that none of you can turn around and deny that I said anything to you. Pay attention, all of you. First of all, Hedytium, I’m talking to you, the girlfriend of the grain merchants, who all have huge heaps of grain at home: please see to it that enough grain is brought to me here to feed me and all my household for a year. Make me so overflowing with grain that the state changes my name and calls me Jason the King instead of Ballio the Pimp. CA. Do you hear what that scoundrel is saying? You think he’s boastful enough? PS. He sure is, and badful too. But be quiet and pay attention to this. BA. Aeschrodora, whose lovers are butchers, who imitate pimps: we make our money with bad oaths, they make theirs with bad soup.1 Listen up: unless I get three meat racks today, loaded down with big fat hides, tomorrow I’m gonna string you up on a meat rack, just like in the story, when the two sons of Jupiter tied Dirce to a bull: the meat rack’s gonna be your bull. CA. His talk makes me so mad! PS. Does the youth of Athens really allow this man to live here? The ones who are still young, who love a pimp’s woman, where are they, where are they hiding? Why don’t they get together? Why don’t they all together free this people from this plague? But wait! That was really stupid and ignorant of me. Would they dare do that, when love makes them slaves? CA. Sh! Quiet! PS. What is it? CA. You’re bothering me: I can’t hear what he’s saying. PS. OK, I’m quiet. CA. I’d much rather you be quiet than say you’re quiet. BA. But you, Xystilis, make sure you pay attention, you whose lovers have huge amounts of olive oil at home. If I don’t get olive oil brought here in leather sacks, I’ll see to it that you yourself are carried off in a leather sack—into the shed. There you’ll get a bed, where you’ll hardly sleep a wink, but where, until you’re exhausted…. You get my drift. But you, who are always counting out money for me for your freedom in bits and pieces, who know how to promise but don’t how to do what you promised, Phoenicium, I’m talking to you, plaything of the leading citizens: unless all the provisions from the estates of your lovers are brought here today, Phoenicium, tomorrow you’ll visit the shed with a scarlet hide.2 CA. Pseudolus, don’t you hear what he’s saying? PS. I hear it, master, and I’m paying close attention. CA. What do you say? What should I send him, so he doesn’t make my girl a streetwalker? PS. Don’t worry, rest easy: I’ll manage everything for me and for you. For a long time now Ballio and I have wished only the best for each other, and we have an old friendship: today for his birthday I’ll send him a great big fresh disaster.

1 Ballio puns on the words iurare (to swear an oath) and ius (soup). 2 Plautus puns on the name Phoenicium and poenicius, meaning scarlet.