Σχολαστικῷ τις ἀπαντήσας εἶπεν· “ὁ δοῦλος, ὃν ἐπώλησάς μοι, ἀπέθανε.” – “μὰ τοὺς θεούς,” ἔφη, “παρ’ ἐμοὶ ὅτε ἦν, τοιοῦτον οὐδὲν ἐποίησεν.”
(Philogelos 18)
A man goes up to a student dunce and says, ‘The slave you sold me died.’ ‘By the gods,’ counters the dunce, ‘when he was with me, he never did any such thing!’ (tr. William Berg)
Οὔ μ’ ἔλαθες φοιτῶν κατ’ ἀμαξιτόν, ἣν ἄρα καὶ πρὶν
ἠλάστρεις, κλέπτων ἡμετέρην φιλίην.
ἔρρε θεοῖσιν τ’ ἐχθρὲ καὶ ἀνθρώποισιν ἄπιστε,
ψυχρὸν ὃς ἐν κόλπῳ ποικίλον εἶχες ὄφιν.
(Theognis, Eleg. 599-602)
I was well aware that you were travelling along the common road you used to drive before, cheating on my friendship. To hell with you, hated by the gods and distrusted by men, you who kept a cold and cunning serpent in your bosom. (tr. Douglas E. Gerber)
Δοκεῖ δὲ ἡ τοῦ Νηλέως θυγάτηρ ἀσελγὴς γενέσθαι καὶ ὑπό τινος τῶν βαρβάρων φθαρῆναι. τῷ δὲ Νηλεῖ τοῦ θεοῦ εἰπόντος τὴν θυγατέρα δείξειν, ὅπου δεῖ κτίζειν, ἀποβάντων αὐτῶν εἰς Μίλητον ἀνασυραμένην τοὺς μηροὺς εἰπεῖν· “τίς θέλει μοι συνουσιάσαι;” συνεὶς δὲ ὁ πατὴρ αὐτῆς τὸ λόγιον ἐκεῖ κατῴκησε.
(Scholia in Lycophronem, Alex. 1385)
The daughter of Neleus seems to have become licentious, and to have been corrupted by someone of the barbarians. When a god said that the daughter would point out to Neleus where it was necessary to found [a settlement], they went away to Miletus, and she, revealing her thighs, said: “Who wants to have sexual intercourse with me?” The father, having understood her declaration, founded the colony there. (tr. Ann Suter)
Non ego te imploro contra taurosque virosque,
utque tua serpens victa quiescat ope;
te peto, quem merui, quem nobis ipse dedisti,
cum quo sum pariter facta parente parens.
dos ubi sit, quaeris? campo numeravimus illo,
qui tibi laturo vellus arandus erat.
aureus ille aries villo spectabilis alto,
dos mea, quam, dicam si tibi “redde,” neges.
dos mea tu sospes, dos est mea Graia iuventus.
i nunc, Sisyphias, inprobe, confer opes!
quod vivis, quod habes nuptam socerumque potentes,
hoc ipsum, ingratus quod potes esse, meum est.
quos equidem actutum—sed quid praedicere poenam
attinet? ingentes parturit ira minas.
quo feret ira sequar. facti fortasse pigebit;
et piget infido consuluisse viro.
viderit ista deus, qui nunc mea pectora versat.
nescio quid certe mens mea maius agit.
(Ovid, Her. 12.195-212)
I do not implore you to go forth against bulls and men, nor ask your aid to quiet and overcome a dragon; it is you I ask for,—you, whom I have earned, whom you yourself gave to me, by whom I became a mother, as you by me a father. Where is my dowry, you ask? On the field I counted it out—that field which you had to plough before you could bear away the fleece. The famous golden ram, sightly for deep flock, is my dowry—the which, should I say to you “Restore it!” you would refuse to render up. My dowry is yourself—saved; my dowry is the band of Grecian youth! Go now, wretch, compare with that your wealth of Sisyphus! That you are alive, that you take to wife one who, with the father she brings you, is of kingly station, that you have the very power of being ingrate—you owe to me. Whom, hark you, I will straight—but what boots it to foretell your penalty? My ire is in travail with mighty threats. Whither my ire leads, will I follow. Mayhap I shall repent me of what I do—but I repent me, too, of regard for a faithless husband’s good. Be that the concern of the god who now embroils my heart! Something portentous, surely, is working in my soul! (tr. Grant Showerman, revised by G.P. Goold)
Τὸ δὲ μεσαίτατον τοῦ λαγόνος ὀμφαλός. τὸ δὲ ὑπὸ τοῦτον ἴτρον. εἶτα τὸ ἐφήβαιον, ὃ καὶ ἐπίσειον καλεῖται. εἰς ὃ τελευτᾷ ὁ θώραξ, ἔνθα καὶ τὰ αἰδοῖα τῶν ἀρρένων τέτακται καὶ τῶν θηλειῶν κατὰ τὴν διάφυσιν τῶν μηρῶν, ὅπως κρύπτηται ὑπὸ τούτων. τοῦ μὲν οὖν ἀρσενικοῦ τὸ προῦχον καυλός. τὸ δὲ ἄκρον αὐτοῦ βάλανος. καθ’ ὃ δὲ τετρύπηται πρὸς ἔκκρισιν, ἀπὸ τῆς χρείας οὐρήθρα ὀνομάζεται· τὸ δὲ σκέπον τὸ ἄκρον ποσθή. τὸ δὲ κάτω μέρος τοῦ καυλοῦ κατὰ μῆκος αὐτοῦ ῥαφή. τὸ δὲ διατεῖνον μέχρι τῆς ἕδρας ταῦρος καλεῖται. δίδυμοι δὲ καὶ ὄρχεις ἔνδοθέν τε καὶ ἔξωθεν ὀνομάζονται. καὶ ὄσχεον τὸ περὶ τοὺς διδύμους. τοῦ δὲ γυναικείου αἰδοίου, οὕτω γὰρ αὐτὸ οἱ παλαιοὶ ὠνόμαζον, αὐτὸς μὲν ὁ κόλπος κτεὶς καλεῖται. τὰ δὲ περιέχοντα τὸν κόλπον πτερυγώματα. τὸ δὲ μέσον τούτων κατὰ τὴν διασχίδα ἐκπεφυκὸς σαρκίδιον, νύμφη, ὃ καὶ διὰ τὸ προκύπτειν ἐπὶ πολὺ ἐκτομῆς ἀξιοῦται παρ’ Αἰγυπτίοις ἐπὶ τῶν παρθένων.
(Pseudo-Galen, Eisagōgē 14.705-706K)
In the middle of the flanks is the navel. What is underneath the navel is called the abdomen. Further down there is the pubic hair, which is also called pubes, and here the body ends. Here are also the male genitals, while the females are placed in the separation between the thighs so that they are hidden by them. In men that which protrudes is called the penis. The tip is called the glans, and therein is a hole for secretion, which after its use is called the urethra. What protects the tip is called the foreskin. Along the lower part of the shaft there is a seam. The part that extends to the anus is called the perineum (‘tauros’). The balls are also called testicles, both inside and outside. What is around the balls is called the scrotum. Of the female pudenda, for that is the term the old ones used, the actual cavity is called the vagina. What is on both sides of this cavity is called the labia. The little piece of flesh that grows out of the crack between them is called the clitoris, and because it protrudes, the Egyptians seem to prefer excising it from girls.
Τουτίλας δὲ μόνος ἐν μεταιχμίῳ ἐγένετο, οὐ μονομαχήσων, ἀλλὰ τὸν καιρὸν τοῖς ἐναντίοις τοῦτον ἐκκρούσων. Γότθων γὰρ τοὺς ἀπολειπομένους δισχιλίους ἄγχιστά πη προσιέναι μαθὼν ἀπετίθετο ἐς τὴν αὐτῶν παρουσίαν τὴν ξυμβολὴν, ἐποίει δὲ τάδε. πρῶτα μὲν οὐκ ἀπηξίου τοῖς πολεμίοις ἐνδείκνυσθαι ὅστις ποτὲ εἴη. τήν τε γὰρ τῶν ὅπλων σκευὴν κατακόρως τῷ χρυσῷ κατειλημμένην ἠμπίσχετο καὶ τῶν οἱ φαλάρων ὁ κόσμος ἔκ τε τοῦ πίλου καὶ τοῦ δόρατος ἁλουργός τε καὶ ἄλλως βασιλικὸς ἀπεκρέματο θαυμαστὸς ὅσος. καὶ αὐτὸς ὑπερφυεῖ ὀχούμενος ἵππῳ παιδιὰν ἐν μεταιχμίῳ ἔπαιζε τὴν ἐνόπλιον ἐπισταμένως. τόν τε γὰρ ἵππον ἐν κύκλῳ περιελίσσων, ἐπὶ θάτερά τε ἀναστρέφων αὖθις κυκλοτερεῖς πεποίητο δρόμους. καὶ ἱππευόμενος μεθίει ταῖς αὔραις τὸ δόρυ, ἀπ’ αὐτῶν τε κραδαινόμενον ἁρπασάμενος εἶτα ἐκ χειρὸς ἐς χεῖρα παραπέμπων συχνὰ ἐφ’ ἑκάτερα, καὶ μεταβιβάζων ἐμπείρως, ἐφιλοτιμεῖτο τῇ ἐς τὰ τοιαῦτα μελέτῃ, ὑπτιάζων καὶ ἰσχιάζων καὶ πρὸς ἑκάτερα ἐγκλινόμενος, ὥσπερ ἐκ παιδὸς ἀκριβῶς τὰ ἐς τὴν ὀρχήστραν δεδιδαγμένος.
(Procopius, Bell. Goth. 8.31.17-20)
But Totila now went alone into the space between the armies, not in order to engage in single combat, but in order to prevent his opponents from using the present opportunity. For he had learned that the two thousand Goths who had been missing were now drawing near, and so he sought to put off the engagement until their arrival by doing as follows. First of all, he was not at all reluctant to make an exhibilion to the enemy of what manner of man he was. For the armour in which he was clad was abundantly plated with gold and the ample adornments which hung from his cheek-plates as well as from his helmet and spear were not only of purple but in other respects befitting a king, marvellous in their abundance. And he himself, sitting upon a very large horse, began to perform the dance under arms skilfully between the armies. For he wheeled his horse round in a circle and then turned him again to the other side and so made him run round and round. And as he rode he hurled his javelin into the air and caught it again as it quivered above him, then passed it rapidly from hand to hand, shifting it with consummate skill, and he gloried in his practice in such matters, falling back on his shoulders, spreading his legs and leaning from side to side, like one who has been instructed with precision in the art of dancing from childhood. (tr. Henry Bronson Dewing)
Augentur autem sicut omnium, ita vocis quoque bona cura, neglegentia minuuntur. sed cura non eadem oratoribus quae phonascis convenit, tamen multa sunt utrisque communia, firmitas corporis, ne ad spadonum et mulierum et aegrorum exilitatem vox nostra tenuetur; quod ambulatio, unctio, veneris abstinentia, facilis ciborum digestio, id est frugalitas, praestat. praeterea ut sint fauces integrae, id est molles ac leves, quarum vitio et frangitur et obscuratur et exasperatur et scinditur vox. nam ut tibiae eodem spiritu accepto alium clusis alium apertis foraminibus, alium non satis purgatae alium quassae sonum reddunt, item fauces tumentes strangulant vocem, obtusae obscurant, rasae exasperant, convulsae fractis sunt organis similes. finditur etiam spiritus obiectu aliquo sicut lapillo tenues aquae, quarum impetus etiam si ultra paulum coit, aliquid tamen cavi relinquit post id ipsum quod offenderat. humor quoque vocem ut nimius impedit, ita consumptus destituit. nam fatigatio, ut corpora, non ad praesens modo tempus sed etiam in futurum adficit. sed ut communiter et phonascis et oratoribus necessaria est exercitatio, qua omnia convalescunt, ita curae non idem genus est. nam neque certa tempora ad spatiandum dari possunt tot civilibus officiis occupato, nec praeparare ab imis sonis vocem ad summos nec semper a contentione condere licet, cum pluribus iudiciis saepe dicendum sit. ne ciborum quidem est eadem observatio: non enim tam molli teneraque voce quam forti ac durabili opus est, cum illi omnes etiam altissimos sonos leniant cantu oris, nobis pleraque aspere sint concitateque dicenda et vigilandae noctes et fuligo lucubrationum bibenda et in sudata veste durandum. quare vocem deliciis non molliamus, nec imbuatur ea consuetudine quam desideratura sit, sed exercitatio eius talis sit qualis usus, nec silentio subsidat, sed firmetur consuetudine, qua difficultas omnis levatur. ediscere autem, quo exercearis, erit optimum (nam ex tempore dicentis avocat a cura vocis ille qui ex rebus ipsis concipitur affectus), et ediscere quam maxime varia, quae et clamorem et disputationem et sermonem et flexus habeant, ut simul in omnia paremur. hoc satis est; alioqui nitida illa et curata vox insolitum laborem recusabit, ut assueta gymnasiis et oleo corpora, quamlibet sint in suis certaminibus speciosa atque robusta, si militare iter fascemque et vigilias imperes, deficiant et quaerant unctores suos nudumque sudorem. illa quidem in hoc opere praecipi quis ferat, vitandos soles atque ventos et nubila etiam ac siccitates? ita, si dicendum in sole aut ventoso, umido, calido die fuerit, reos deseremus? nam crudum quidem aut saturum aut ebrium aut eiecto modo vomitu, quae cavenda quidam monent, declamare neminem qui sit mentis compos puto. illud non sine causa est ab omnibus praeceptum, ut parcatur maxime voci in illo a pueritia in adulescentiam transitu, quia naturaliter impeditur, non, ut arbitror, propter calorem, quod quidam putaverunt (nam est maior alias), sed propter humorem potius: nam hoc aetas illa turgescit. itaque nares etiam ac pectus eo tempore tument, atque omnia velut germinant eoque sunt tenera et iniuriae obnoxia. sed, ut ad propositum redeam, iam confirmatae constitutaeque voci genus exercitationis optimum duco quod est operi simillimum, dicere cotidie sicut agimus. namque hoc modo non vox tantum confirmatur et latus, sed etiam corporis decens et accommodatus orationi motus componitur.
(Quintilian, Inst. Or. 11.3.19-29)
The good qualities of the voice, like everything else, are improved by training and impaired by neglect. But the training required by the orator is not the same as that which is practised by the singing-master, although the two methods may have many points in common. In both cases physical robustness is essential to save the voice from dwindling to the feeble shrillness that characterises the voices of eunuchs, women and invalids, and the mentions for creating such robustness are to be found in walking, rubbing-down with oil, abstinence from sexual intercourse, an easy digestion, and, in a word, in the simple life. Further, the throat must be sound, that is to say, soft and smooth; for if the throat be unsound, the voice is broken or dulled or becomes harsh or squeaky, For just as the sound produced in the pipe by the same volume of breath varies according as the stops are closed or open, or the instrument is clogged or cracked, so the voice is strangled if the throat be swollen, and muffled if it is obstructed, while it becomes rasping if the throat is inflamed, and may be compared to an organ with broken pipes in cases where the throat is subject to spasms. Again, the presence of some obstacle may divide the breath just as a pebble will divide shallow waters, which, although their currents unite again soon after the obstruction is past, still leave a hollow space in rear of the object struck. An excess of moisture also impedes the voice, while a deficiency weakens it. As regards fatigue, its effect is the same as upon the body: it affects the voice not merely at the moment of speaking, but for some time afterwards. But while exercise, which gives strength in all cases, is equally necessary both for orators and singing-masters, it is a different kind of exercise which they require. For the orator is too much occupied by civil affairs to be able to allot fixed times for taking a walk, and he cannot tune his voice through all the notes of the scale nor spare it exertion, since it is frequently necessary for him to speak in several cases in succession. Nor is the same régime suitable as regards food: for the orator needs a strong and enduring voice rather than one which is soft and sweet, while the singer mellows all sounds, even the highest, by the modulation of his voice, whereas we have often to speak in harsh and agitated tones, must pass wakeful nights, swallow the soot that is produced by the midnight oil and stick to our work though our clothes be dripping with sweat. Consequently, we must not attempt to mellow our voice by coddling it nor accustom it to the conditions which it would like to enjoy, but rather give it exercise suited to the tasks on which it will be employed, never allowing it to be impaired by silence, but strengthening it by practice, which removes all difficulties. The best method for securing such exercise is to learn passages by heart (for if we have to speak extempore, the passion inspired by our theme will distract us from all care for our voice), while the passages selected for the purpose should be as varied as possible, involving a combination of loud, argumentative, colloquial and modulated utterance, so that we may prepare ourselves for all exigencies simultaneously. This will be sufficient. Otherwise your delicate, overtrained voice will succumb before any unusual exertion, like bodies accustomed to the oil of the training school, which for all the imposing robustness which they display in their own contests, yet, if ordered to make a day’s march with the troops, to carry burdens and mount guard at night, would faint beneath the task and long for their trainers to rub them down with oil and for the free perspiration of the naked limbs. Who would tolerate me if in a work such as this I were to prescribe avoidance of exposure to sun, wind, rain or parching heat? If we are called upon to speak in the sun or on a windy, wet or warm day, is that a reason for deserting the client whom we have undertaken to defend? While as for the warning given by some that the orator should not speak when dyspeptic, replete or drunk, or immediately after vomiting, I think that no sane person would dream of declaiming under such circumstances. There is, however, good reason for the rule prescribed by all authorities, that the voice should not be overstrained in the years of transition between boyhood and manhood, since at that period it is naturally weak, not, I think, on account of heat, as some allege (for there is more heat in the body at other periods), but rather on account of moisture, of which at that age there is a superabundance. For this reason the nostrils and the breast swell at this stage, and all the organs develop new growth, with the result that they are tender and liable to injury. However, to return to the point, the best and most realistic form of exercise for the voice, once it has become firm and set, is, in my opinion, the practice of speaking daily just as we plead in the courts. For thus, not merely do the voice and lungs gain in strength, but we acquire a becoming deportment of the body and develop grace of movement suited to our style of speaking. (tr. Harold Edgeworth Butler)
Have mi magister dulcissime.
nos valemus. ego aliquantulum prodormivi propter perfrictiunculam, quae videtur sedata esse. ergo ab undecima noctis in tertiam diei partim legi ex Agri Cultura Catonis, partim scripsi, minus misere, mercule, quam heri. inde salutato patre meo aqua mulsa sorbenda usque ad gulam et reiectanda fauces fovi, potius quam dicerem gargarissavi, nam est apud Novium, credo, et alibi. sed faucibus curatis abii ad patrem meum et immolanti adstiti. deinde ad merendam itum. quid me censes prandisse? panis tantulum, cum conchim et caepas et maenas bene praegnatas alios vorantes viderem. deinde uvis metendis operam dedimus et consudavimus et iubilavimus et “aliquot”, ut ait auctor, “reliquimus altipendulos vindemiae superstites”. ab hora sexta domum rediimus. paululum studui atque id ineptum. deinde cum matercula mea supra torum sedente multum garrivi. Meus sermo hic erat: “quid existimas modo meum Frontonem facere?” tum illa: “Quid autem tu meam Gratiam?” tum ego: “Quid autem passerculam nostram Gratiam minusculam?” dum ea fabulamur atque altercamur, uter alterutrum vestrum magis amaret, discus crepuit, id est, pater meus in balneum transisse nuntiatus est. loti igitur in torculari cenavimus (non loti in torculari, sed loti cenavimus) et rusticos cavillantes audivimus libenter. inde reversus, priusquam me in latus converto ut stertam, meum pensum explico et diei rationem meo suavissimo magistro reddo, quem si possem magis desiderare, libenter plusculum macerarer. valebis, mihi Fronto, ubiubi es, mellitissime, meus amor, mea voluptas. quid mihi tecum est? amo absentem.
(Marcus Aurelius in Fronto, Ep. ad M. Caesarem et invicem 4.6)
Hail, my sweetest of masters.
We are well. I slept somewhat late owing to my slight cold, which seems now to have subsided. So from five a.m. till nine I spent the time partly in reading some of Cato’s Agriculture and partly in writing not quite such wretched stuff, by heavens, as yesterday. Then, after paying my respects to my father, I relieved my throat, I will not say by gargling—though the word gargarisso is, I believe, found in Novius and elsewhere—but by swallowing honey water as far as the gullet and ejecting it again. After easing my throat I went off to my father and attended him at a sacrifice. Then we went to luncheon. What do you think I ate? A wee bit of bread, though I saw others devouring beans, onions, and herrings full of roe. We then worked hard at grape-gathering, and had a good sweat, and were merry and, as the poet says, still left some clusters hanging high as gleanings of the vintage. After six o’clock we came home. I did but little work and that to no purpose. Then I had a long chat with my little mother as she sat on the bed. My talk was this: What do you think my Fronto is now doing? Then she: And what do you think my Gratia is doing? Then I: And what do you think our little sparrow, the wee Gratia, is doing? Whilst we were chattering in this way and disputing which of us two loved the one or other of you two the better, the gong sounded, an intimation that my father had gone to his bath. So we had supper after we had bathed in the oil-press room; I do not mean bathed in the oil-press room, but when we had bathed, had supper there, and we enjoyed hearing the yokels chaffing one another. After coming back, before I turn over and snore, I get my task done and give my dearest of masters an account of the day’s doings, and if I could miss him more, I would not grudge wasting away a little more. Farewell, my Fronto, wherever you are, most honey-sweet, my love, my delight. How is it between you and me? I love you and you are away. (tr. Charles Reginald Haines)
Have mi magister gravissime.
nos valemus. ego hodie ab hora nona noctis in secundam diei bene disposito cibo studivi; a secunda in tertiam soleatus libentissime inambulavi ante cubiculum meum. deinde calceatus sagulo sumpto (nam ita adesse nobis indictum erat), abii salutatum dominum meum. ad venationem profecti sumus, fortia facinora fecimus, apros captos esse fando audiimus, nam videndi quidem nulla facultas fuit. clivum tamen satis arduum successimus; inde post meridiem domum recepimus. ego me ad libellos. igitur calceis detractis, vestimentis positis, in lectulo ad duas horas commoratus sum. legi Catonis orationem ‘De Bonis Pulchrae’ et aliam, qua tribuno diem dixit. io, inquis puero tuo, vade quantum potes, de Apollinis bibliotheca has mihi orationes apporta. frustra mittis, nam et
isti libri me secuti sunt. igitur Tiberianus bibliothecarius tibi subigitandus est; aliquid in eam rem insumendum, quod mihi ille, ut ad urbem venero, aequa divisione impertiat. sed ego orationibus his perlectis paululum misere scripsi, quod aut Lymphis aut Vulcano dicarem: ἀληθῶς ἀτυχῶς σήμερον γέγραπταί μοι, venatoris plane aut vindemiatoris studiolum, qui iubilis suis cubiculum meum perstrepunt, causidicali prosum odio
et taedio. quid hoc dixi? immo recte dixi, nam meus quidem magister orator est. ego videor mihi perfrixisse: quod mane soleatus ambulavi an quod male scripsi, non scio. certe homo alioqui pituitosus, hodie tamen multo mucculentior mihi esse videor. itaque oleum in caput infundam et incipiam dormire, nam in lucernam hodie nullam stillam inicere cogito, ita me equitatio et sternutatio defatigavit. valebis mihi, magister carissime et dulcissime, quem ego—ausim dicere—magis quam ipsam Romam desidero.
(Fronto, Ep. ad M. Caesarem et invicem 4.5)
Hail, most reverend master.
We are well. By a satisfactory arrangement of meals I worked from three o’clock a.m. till eight. For the next hour I paced about in slippers most contentedly before my bedroom. Then putting on my boots and donning my cloak—for we had been told to come in that dress—I went off to pay my respects to my Lord. We set out for the chase and did doughty deeds. We did hear say that boars had been bagged, for we were not lucky enough to see any. However, we climbed quite a steep hill; then in the afternoon we came home. I to my books: so taking off my boots and doffing my dress I passed nearly two hours on my couch, reading Cato’s speech On the property of Pulchra, and another in which he impeached a tribune. Ho, you cry to your boy, go as fast as you can and fetch me those speeches from the libraries of Apollo! It is no use your sending, for those volumes, among others, have followed me here. So you must get round the librarian of Tiberius’s library: a little douceur will be necessary, in which he and I can go shares when I come back to town. Well, these speeches read, I wrote a little wretched stuff, fit to be dedicated to the deities of water and fire: truly to-day I have been unlucky in my writing, the lucubration of a sportsman or a vintager, such as those whose catches ring through my bedroom, a noise every whit as hateful and wearisome as that of the law-courts. What is this I have said? Nay, ’tis true, for my master is an orator. I think I must have taken a chill, whether from walking about in slippers in the early morning, or from writing badly, I know not. I only know that, rheumy enough at all times, I seem to be more drivelling than ever to-day. So I will pour the oil on my head and go off to sleep, for not a drop of it do I intend to pour into my lamp to-day, so tired am I with riding and sneezing. Farewell for my sake, dearest and sweetest of masters, whom I would make bold to say I long to see more than Rome itself. (tr. Charles Reginald Haines)
Ἐγὼ γάρ, ὦ Ἀθηναῖοι, ἐπειδὴ ἔδοξέ μοι γῆμαι καὶ γυναῖκα ἠγαγόμην εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν, τὸν μὲν ἄλλον χρόνον οὕτω διεκείμην ὥστε μήτε λυπεῖν μήτε λίαν ἐπ᾽ ἐκείνῃ εἶναι ὅ τι ἂν ἐθέλῃ ποιεῖν, ἐφύλαττόν τε ὡς οἷόν τε ἦν, καὶ προσεῖχον τὸν νοῦν ὥσπερ εἰκὸς ἦν· ἐπειδὴ δέ μοι παιδίον γίγνεται, ἐπίστευον ἤδη καὶ πάντα τὰ ἐμαυτοῦ ἐκείνῃ παρέδωκα, ἡγούμενος ταύτην οἰκειότητα μεγίστην εἶναι· ἐν μὲν οὖν τῷ πρώτῳ χρόνῳ, ὦ Ἀθηναῖοι, πασῶν ἦν βελτίστη, καὶ γὰρ οἰκονόμος δεινὴ καὶ φειδωλὸς καὶ ἀκριβῶς πάντα διοικοῦσα· ἐπειδὴ δέ μοι ἡ μήτηρ ἐτελεύτησε, ἣ πάντων τῶν κακῶν ἀποθανοῦσα αἰτία μοι γεγένηται. ἐπ’ ἐκφορὰν γὰρ αὐτῇ ἀκολουθήσασα ἡ ἐμὴ γυνὴ ὑπὸ τούτου τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ὀφθεῖσα, χρόνῳ διαφθείρεται· ἐπιτηρῶν γὰρ τὴν θεράπαιναν τὴν εἰς τὴν ἀγορὰν βαδίζουσαν καὶ λόγους προσφέρων ἀπώλεσεν αὐτήν. πρῶτον μὲν οὖν, ὦ ἄνδρες, (δεῖ γὰρ καὶ ταῦθ᾽ ὑμῖν διηγήσασθαι) οἰκίδιον ἔστι μοι διπλοῦν, ἴσα ἔχον τὰ ἄνω τοῖς κάτω κατὰ τὴν γυναικωνῖτιν καὶ κατὰ τὴν ἀνδρωνῖτιν. ἐπειδὴ δὲ τὸ παιδίον ἐγένετο ἡμῖν, ἡ μήτηρ αὐτὸ ἐθήλαζεν· ἵνα δὲ μή, ὁπότε λοῦσθαι δέοι, κινδυνεύῃ κατὰ τῆς κλίμακος καταβαίνουσα, ἐγὼ μὲν ἄνω διῃτώμην, αἱ δὲ γυναῖκες κάτω. καὶ οὕτως ἤδη συνειθισμένον ἦν, ὥστε πολλάκις ἡ γυνὴ ἀπῄει κάτω καθευδήσουσα ὡς τὸ παιδίον, ἵνα τὸν τιτθὸν αὐτῷ διδῷ καὶ μὴ βοᾷ. καὶ ταῦτα πολὺν χρόνον οὕτως ἐγίγνετο, καὶ ἐγὼ οὐδέποτε ὑπώπτευσα, ἀλλ’ οὕτως ἠλιθίως διεκείμην, ὥστε ᾤμην τὴν ἐμαυτοῦ γυναῖκα πασῶν σωφρονεστάτην εἶναι τῶν ἐν τῇ πόλει. προϊόντος δὲ τοῦ χρόνου, ὦ ἄνδρες, ἧκον μὲν ἀπροσδοκήτως ἐξ ἀγροῦ, μετὰ δὲ τὸ δεῖπνον τὸ παιδίον ἐβόα καὶ ἐδυσκόλαινεν ὑπὸ τῆς θεραπαίνης ἐπίτηδες λυπούμενον, ἵνα ταῦτα ποιῇ· ὁ γὰρ ἄνθρωπος ἔνδον ἦν· ὕστερον γὰρ ἅπαντα ἐπυθόμην. καὶ ἐγὼ τὴν γυναῖκα ἀπιέναι ἐκέλευον καὶ δοῦναι τῷ παιδίῳ τὸν τιτθόν, ἵνα παύσηται κλᾶον. ἡ δὲ τὸ μὲν πρῶτον οὐκ ἤθελεν, ὡς ἂν ἀσμένη με ἑορακυῖα ἥκοντα διὰ χρόνου· ἐπειδὴ δὲ ἐγὼ ὠργιζόμην καὶ ἐκέλευον αὐτὴν ἀπιέναι, “ἵνα σύ γε” ἔφη “πειρᾷς ἐνταῦθα τὴν παιδίσκην· καὶ πρότερον δὲ μεθύων εἷλκες αὐτήν.” κἀγὼ μὲν ἐγέλων, ἐκείνη δὲ ἀναστᾶσα καὶ ἀπιοῦσα προστίθησι τὴν θύραν, προσποιουμένη παίζειν, καὶ τὴν κλεῖν ἐφέλκεται. κἀγὼ τούτων οὐδὲν ἐνθυμούμενος οὐδ’ ὑπονοῶν ἐκάθευδον ἄσμενος, ἥκων ἐξ ἀγροῦ. ἐπειδὴ δὲ ἦν πρὸς ἡμέραν, ἧκεν ἐκείνη καὶ τὴν θύραν ἀνέῳξεν. ἐρομένου δέ μου τί αἱ θύραι νύκτωρ ψοφοῖεν, ἔφασκε τὸν λύχνον ἀποσβεσθῆναι τὸν παρὰ τῷ παιδίῳ, εἶτα ἐκ τῶν γειτόνων ἐνάψασθαι. ἐσιώπων ἐγὼ καὶ ταῦτα οὕτως ἔχειν ἡγούμην. ἔδοξε δέ μοι, ὦ ἄνδρες, τὸ πρόσωπον ἐψιμυθιῶσθαι, τοῦ ἀδελφοῦ τεθνεῶτος οὔπω τριάκονθ’ ἡμέρας· ὅμως δ’ οὐδ’ οὕτως οὐδὲν εἰπὼν περὶ τοῦ πράγματος ἐξελθὼν ᾠχόμην ἔξω σιωπῇ.
(Lysias, Or. 1.6-14)
After I decided to get married, men of Athens, and brought my bride home, for a while my attitude was not to trouble her too much but not to let her do whatever she wanted either. I watched her as best I could and gave her the proper amount of attention. But from the moment my child was born, I began to have full confidence in her and placed everything in her hands, reckoning that this was the best relationship. In those early days, men of Athens, she was the best of women: a good housekeeper, thrifty, with a sharp eye on every detail. But my mother’s death was the cause of all my troubles. For it was while attending her funeral that my wife was seen by this fellow and eventually corrupted by him: he kept an eye out for the slave girl who did the shopping, put forward proposals, and seduced her. Now before continuing, gentlemen, I need to explain something. My house has two stories, and in the part with the women’s rooms and the men’s rooms, the upper floor is the same size as the floor below. When our baby was born, his mother nursed him. To avoid her risking an accident coming down the stairs whenever he needed washing, I took over the upstairs rooms, and the women moved downstairs. Eventually we became so used to this arrangement that my wife would often leave me to go down and sleep with the baby, so that she could nurse it and stop it crying. Things went on in this way for a long time, and I never had the slightest suspicion; indeed, I was so naive that I thought my wife was the most respectable woman in Athens. Some time later, gentlemen, I returned unexpectedly from the country. After dinner, the baby began to cry and was restless. (He was being deliberately teased by the slave girl, to make him do this, because the man was inside the house: I later found out everything.) So I told my wife to go down and feed the baby, to stop it crying. At first she refused, as if glad to see me home after so long. When I became angry and ordered her to go, she said, “You just want to stay here and have a go at the slave girl. You had a grab at her once before when you were drunk.” I laughed at this, and she got up and left. She closed the door behind her, pretending to make a joke out of it, and bolted it. I had no suspicions and thought no more of it, but gladly went to bed, since I had just returned from the country. Towards morning, she came and unlocked the door. I asked her why the doors had creaked during the night, and she claimed that the baby’s lamp had gone out, so she had to get it relit at our neighbors’. I believed this account and said no more. But I noticed, gentlemen, that she had put on makeup, even though her brother had died less than a month earlier. Even so, I did not say anything about it but left the house without replying. (tr. Stephen C. Todd)
Crambe Repetita 