Miles Gloriosus by Plautus (c.200 BC)

The Latin title translates as The Boastful Soldier. It was based on a (now lost) Greek original titled Alazon or The Braggart (as Plautus tells us in the prologue). The play was so popular in its day and after, that the title gave its name to a stock character type, the miles gloriosus, the stereotype of the swaggering vainglorious but, in reality, cowardly soldier who featured in comedies for the next 1,500 years, appearing in Shakespeare and other European authors,

The characters all have Greek names and the play is set in the Greek city of Ephesus and, once you start reading the biggest surprise about the plot is how peripheral to it the boastful soldier is. The play opens with a short scene showing the boastful soldier, Pyrgopolynices, outside his house accompanied by his parasite or sycophant Artotrogus for some comic banter. As mentioned in previous reviews, parasitus is the word used for this character type but Watling thinks it is better translated as ‘table companion’ i.e. a man who sucks up to a rich patron, is flattering and amusing and is rewarded with a place at his table. The relationship is made crystal clear when, after flattering Pyrgopolynices with an account of the huge number of men he has killed in heroic encounters, Pyrgopolynices declares:

PYRGOPOLYNICES: Go on as you are doing, my man, and you will never go hungry. I give you the freedom of my table. (p.155)

The essence of the ‘parasite’s role is captured in this phrase. Anyway, Pyrgopolynices says he needs to round up his troop and go to the forum to pay some recruits he’s recently gathered for the King of Seleucia, so off he and Artotrogus go.

The plot

Enter Palaestrio

Enter the clever slave, Palaestrio, and he becomes the central character of the first half of the play, the prime mover of the plots and its scams.

Palaestrio explains in a lengthy speech that he previously lived in Athens where he served a young Athenian, Pleusicles. Pleusicles had a girlfriend named Philocomasium. Pleusicles was sent on a diplomatic mission to Naupactus and, while he was out of town, Pyrgopolynices ingratiated himself with the girl’s mother, bringing her presents, paying court to the young woman until one day, when the mother’s back was turned, Pyrgopolynices abducted Philocomasium, carrying off to the port and by ship back here to Ephesus.

The loyal slave Palaestrio tried to go to his master with this bad news but was himself captured by pirates and given (by an enormous coincidence) to the same soldier, Pyrgopolynices, as his slave.

Palaestrio secretly sent a letter to his former master telling him where he and Philocomasium were. As a result Pleusicles has now come to Ephesus and is staying with an old man, Periplectomenus, who lives next door to Pyrgopolynices.

So this play can be categorised as one of Plautus’s next door comedies, along with Trinummus, Aulularia, Menaechmi and Pseudolus, which all use the same device of situating the homes of the two main characters next door to each other.

So as the play opens, both Palaestrio and the abducted Philocomasium are living in Pyrgopolynices’s house in Ephesus – her lover Pleusicles is staying in the house next door – and Palaestrio has cut a hole in the party wall between the two houses to allow the two lovers to see each other another (p.157). And hug and kiss.

So deep down the structure is very simple. The ‘problem’ of the play is that although the lovers are pretty much physically reunited already, some way must be found to get Pyrgopolynices to formally relinquish his ‘ownership’ of Philocomasium so that she becomes free to marry Pleusicles.

Sceledrus sees the kissers

First, however, there is a problem which drives the first half of the plot. One of Palaestrio’s fellow servants, the ‘stupid slave’ Sceledrus, has spotted Pleusicles and Philocomasium having a snog. If he tells Pyrgopolynices, then the reunion of the lovers will be over before it’s started.

Therefore Palaestrio cooks up a holding manoeuvre, which is to persuade Sceledrus that Philocomasium’s identical twin sister has come to town with her fiancé and that it was this identical twin sister who Sceledrus saw snogging Pleusicles, her legitimate fiancé (p.161).

This triggers a lot of comic business such as Philocomasium lounging in the soldier’s house so Sceledrus can see her there, then nipping through the hole between the two houses (while Sceledrus keeps a close watch on the front doors of both houses) so that she can emerge from Periplectomenus’s house in the guise of a completely different woman, while the bewildered Sceledrus had close watch on the two front doors and so is utterly convinced she can’t have got from one house to the next.

It’s worth noting that Philocomasium plays a central part in creating and maintaining the illusion of the identical twin, calling herself Honoria when in the guise of the Pleusicles’ beloved in Periplectomenus’s house.This is an unusually prominent and leading role for a young woman in a Plautus play. (And obviously it’s another play featuring identical twins, as in Menaechmi, albeit fake or non-existent identical twins.)

Anyway, with Palaestrio, Philocomium and Periplectomenus all ganging up to assure Sceledrus that he saw Philocomium’s twin sister kissing Pleusicles – and with some comic business of him going into first one house then the other and seeing Philocomium in both, Sceledrus eventually, reluctantly, comes to believe it himself. He is forced to grovellingly apologise to Periplectomenus for manhandling Philocomium earlier, when he thought she was guilty of the kiss, and comes to fear the whole thing is some kind of plot to have him (Sceledrus) sold off in shame, allowing Palaestrio to take the position of top dog in Pyrgopolynices’s household (where he is already a favourite).

The conspirators

Once Sceledrus has gone back into the Captain’s house, enter canny Palaestrio, the young lover Pleusicles and next door’s Periplectomenus. It is clear they are all on the same page, all friends, and all determined to help young Pleusicles.

At first they all agree that Periplectomenus is the ideal host and Pleusicles is very grateful for all his help and goes on to sing Periplectomenus’s praises and Periplectomenus joins in, explaining that, at the age of 54, he is a considerate host and a well-mannered guest, a lovely man all round.

When one of them asks if he doesn’t miss his dead wife, this scene morphs into a disquisition on the evil of wives and the joys of bachelorhood, displaying the same general anti-women animus – call it sexism or misogyny – as all the other plays. Mind you, he also sings the praises of not having any children, so it’s more pro-male freedom than anti-women, as such. And anyway, a few minutes earlier, he was full of praise for the way Philocomium played the role of the innocent twin sister outraged at the slave Sceledrus’s accusations.

Periplectomenus is about to launch into a long disquisition on the deficient table manners of the poor when Palaestrio tactfully reminds them that maybe they ought to return to the business in hand i.e. plans to take the Captain down a peg or two and to help Pleusicles obtain his lady love.

Palaestrio’s plan

Palaestrio tells them his plan. He asks Periplectomenus is he knows of an attractive woman who’d be up for playing a trick, with a maid. Periplectomenus says he does, knows just the woman, very attractive and willing to do anything for pay.

Well, Palaestrio’s plan is to pay this woman to pretend for a day to be Periplectomenus’s wife, and live with him, but to take the pretence a step further by pretending she is secretly in love with Pyrgopolynices. What they’ll do is take a ring of Periplectomenus’s, say he has given it to his wife, then Palaestrio will say he has been asked by the wife to give this ring to the Captain as a token of her secret love. He’ll immediately be inflamed with the urge to seduce her, and the game will be afoot.

So Periplectomenus agrees to a) give Palaestrio a big ring he usually wears and b) go and get the woman (and her maid) who he thinks will be willing to play the role.

Palaestrio and Lurcio

Paleatrio knocks on the Captain’s door and it is opened by his servant Lurcio. There follows a rather laboured exchange in which Palaestrio establishes that Sceledrus has drunk himself into a stupor fuelled by the wine that the potboy, Lurcio, has provided him with. That’s to say they’ve been illegally drinking the master’s wine so when Palaestrio threatens to expose him, Lurcio decides to go into hiding for a bit. Good. That’s one more servant out of the way (given that Sceledrus is sleeping off his boozy lunch).

Introducing Acroteleutium and Milphidippa

An interlude in which Periplectomenus introduces to Palaestrio the two women he mentioned earlier, the clever, attractive, canny Acroteleutium and her maid, Milphidippa. Acroteleutium makes it clear that she totally understands the role she must play and is all-too-willing to take down that ‘public pest, that big-mouthed menace to women, that scent-reeking hairdressers’ delight, Pyrgopolynices (p.188).

Good. Palaestrio tells them to go into Periplectomenus’s house while he goes to find the Captain in the forum, there to tell him that Periplectomenus’s wife is madly in love with him and give him Periplectomenus’s ring as a token of her infatuation.

Palaestrio fools Pyrgopolynices

We witness the scene in which Palaestrio gives Pyrgopolynices the supposed love token from Periplectomenus’s supposed wife. That’s the easy bit. The next bit is more dicey. Palaestrio points out that Pyrgopolynices can hardly seduce Periplectomenus’s wife if that other girl, Philocomium, is hanging round. True, the Captain replies, what should he do? Well, Palaestrio says, he just happens to know that the girl’s twin sister and mother have arrived in Ephesus looking for her (the Captain is suitably surprised). Best thing would be to let her keep whatever jewels and clothes he’s given her to date, and hand her back to her family in a polite and respectful way (p.190).

Milphidippa and Pyrgopolynices

All this time they’ve been walking across stage to the Captain’s house and, at this point, see someone come out of Periplectomenus’s house. It’s the maid. Palaestrio tells the Captain to hide so they can see what she’s about. Milphidippa, perceiving that they are overhearing her, goes out of her way to play her part, loudly describing how desperately her mistress is in love with the legendary Pyrgopolynices.

Overhearing all this, Pyrgopolynices is tempted to have a shot at the maid but Palaestrio tells him to hold back and wait for the mistress herself. First Palaestrio nips over to the maid and has a few words to check she’s up to speed with the plot and will describe her mistress as swooning for love; then he nips back to Pyrgopolynices and advises him to play hard to get.

Then the maid is introduced to Pyrgopolynices for a comic dialogue, with both playing the roles Palaestrio has suggested for them, commenting all the way through and, in asides, mocking Pyrgopolynices’s preposterous posturing.

Eventually Milphidippa is dispatched to fetch her mistress. So this brings to a head the issue of what to do with the other woman, Philcomium. First some jokes. When Palaestrio tells the Captain that her twin sister is staying next door, Pyrgopolynices, wonders if he should have a shot at her, too; when Palaestrio says the twins’ mother is currently resting on the ship that brought them from Athens, Pyrgopolynices wonders about having a pot at her as well; and when Palaestrio says the twin’s chaperone is also staying next door (meaning Pleaucles) Pyrgopolynices asks whether he’s an attractive youth – to all of which Palaestrio ironically comments that Pyrgopolynices is an unstoppable bull, a veritable stallion! (p.197)

But no, first things first, they have to dispense with Philocomium and Palaestrio recommends it will be best coming from the captain himself. So Pyrgopolynices goes into his house to give Philocomium her marching orders.

The conspirators

Out of Periplectomenus’s house come the old bachelor himself, Acroteleutium, Milphidippa and  Pleusicles i.e. the conspirators are all assembled and Palaestrio runs them once more through the parts they are to play and what they are to say. They decide that Acroteleutium is not merely to tell the Captain how much she fancies him, but to tell him she has divorced Periplectomenus and now owns the house next door. This is to allay any scruples the Captain might have about swiving a woman in her husband’s house (unlikely though the existence of any such scruples might be).

It also occurs to me that part of the pleasure of a scam like this, for the audience, whether in an ancient play or in modern scams like The Italian Job or Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, is that there is a certain glee in watching comic conspirators come up with a comic plan and work through its details. We, the audience, become part of the fun.

A further element to the scam is that Pleusicles is to dress up as the captain of a ship (described in detail on p.200). He is to tell Philocomium, in front of Pyrgopolynices, that her mother has ordered the ship to set sail back for Athens and she must come straight away if she is to be on it. I.e. it is a scam to get her to leave immediately, thus clearing the way for Pyrgopolynices’s supposed conquest.

In case Pleusicles hasn’t guessed it yet, Palaestrio will come with them, ostensibly to help carry the girl’s luggage, but in fact to set sail with them never to return. At which Pleusicles promises to give the slave his freedom. (Freeing the clever slave is as central to the happy resolution of these plots as the marriage of the lovers.) They all go back into Perplectomenus’s house except for Palaestrio.

Re-enter Pyrgopolynices

Pyrgopolynices tells Palaestrio he has successfully persuaded Philocomium to leave his house. Took a while, comments Palaestrio. Yes, she refused to go until I gave her you, says Pyrgopolynices. She wouldn’t leave without you and so I give you to her and will set you free when all this is over. (Obviously this was a joke to the contemporary audience, but brings home just how central the freedom of the slave character was to these plots.)

Anyway, right on cue arrive Acroteleutium and Milphidippa, ready themselves to play their parts, and then speak up in loud voices intended to be overheard by the Captain and Palaestrio, who hide to one side of the stage. In a very funny series of exchanges Acroteleutium tells her maid how madly, foolishly she is in love with the great hero, while Palaestrio sycophantically tells the Captain such passion is only the due of such a great man.

Acroteleutium pretends to be able to scent and intuit that great man is not in his house but is outside, here, somewhere nearby and pretends to swoon with passion. She sends her maid to talk to him. Milphidippa approaches Pyrgopolynices and Palaestrio and says she has produced her mistress, as promised. Pyrgopolynices asks what she wants of him. Milphidippa replies her mistress wants him to visit her in her house. Pyrgopolynices is momentarily reluctant to visit her in another man’s house until the maid tells him, as planned, that Acroteleutium has divorced her husband and the house is now hers. At which Pyrgopolynices enthusiastically agrees and says he’ll be along in a minute.

Milphidippa returns to Acroteleutium, tells her the Captain’s message and they go back inside Periplectomenus’s house.

Pleusicles as ship’s captain

Next thing Pyrgopolynices and Palaestrio spy Pleusicles dressed as a ship’s captain coming along the street. He comes swaggering up and knocks at the Captain’s door. Pyrgopolynices and Palaestrio ask who he is and he plays his part perfectly, saying he is the ship’s captain and that Philocomium’ mother is waiting for her. Keen to get rid of Philocomium, Pyrgopolynices tells Palaestrio to get some slaves to carry all the girl’s gold and jewellery, clothes and valuables down to the ship.

So out comes Philocomosium pretending to be distraught at having to leave the Captain, who of course, takes her worship and distress as only fitting such a hero as himself.

The whole thing is nearly ruined when Philocomium pretends to swoon with tragic distress and Pleusicles catches her and take the opportunity of having a quick snog, and Pyrgopolynices thinks he catches sight of them and is momentarily suspicious. But Palaestrio manages to intervene with some bluster and the slaves appear carrying all her luggage and Pyrgopolynices is mollified and off Philocomium and Pleusicles go.

Palaestrio takes the opportunity for a prolonged and fake-impassioned farewell to Pyrgopolynices, telling him how much he will miss his inspiring example and, with heavy dramatic irony, how Pyrgopolynices will soon realise who were his true slaves and who his disloyal ones. Then he exits.

Pyrgopolynices’s come-uppance

Now the stage is set for the comic catastrophe. A slave boy comes out of Periplectomenus’s house and tells him his mistress is waiting within, overflowing with passion. But when Pyrgopolynices goes inside, the audience hears a rumpus and commotion. This then spills out onstage where Periplectomenus accuses Pyrgopolynices of seducing another man’s wife in his house, and gets his slaves to arrange Pyrgopolynices for a serious flogging by laying him out flat and spread-eagled and holding him down. Not only this but he has one of his cooks brandish a sharp knife and declare he is ready to gut Pyrgopolynices and use his intestines as baubles for the little slave boy (p.210). Or do they mean castrate him? It’s not totally clear.

They actually beat Pyrgopolynices a few times as he begs them to stop at which point Periplectomenus extracts from him a promise, a pledge, that he will never take revenge on anyone for this day’s events or the flogging he’s received. Pyrgopolynices desperately agrees, vowing to take no revenge on anyone or let him be impotent for life. He even agrees to hand over 100 drachmas to the cook for the privilege of not being cut open, and willingly hands over his tunic, cloak and sword into the bargain.

Thus the play ends with the young lovers safely escaped, the canny slave given his freedom, and the braggart soldier stripped and humiliated.

The final humiliation comes when Sceledrus returns with the slaves who have carried all Philocomium’s baggage down to the harbour, and tells Pyrgopolynices that the ship’s captain was none other than her long-term lover. At which point Pyrgopolynices groans and realises how completely he’s been had, and all arranged by that ‘double-dyed villain’, Palaestrio who he has just given his freedom.

At which point one of the actors, unnamed, turns to the audience and bluntly says:

Give us your applause.

THE END.


Credit

Page references are to the Penguin paperback edition of The Pot of Gold and Other Plays by Plautus, translated by E.F. Watling and published by Penguin in 1965.

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Roman reviews

Menaechmi (The Brothers Menaechmus) by Plautus (c.200 BC)

Prologue

The prologue explains that there were once two little boys, identical twin sons of a merchant of Syracuse, named Menaechmus and Sosicles. One day the father took little Menaechmus on a business trip to Tarentum but while walking through a carnival together they got separated. A trader from Epidamnus found the little boy and took him home with him. The father fell sick with grief and died. His father i.e. the boys’ grandfather, back in Syracuse, renamed Sosicles Menaechmus (the name of the lost boy, who he had always preferred).

So we have now got identical twins both named Menaechmus, one living with his grandfather, one growing up far away in Epidamnus.

(Incidentally, you can see how the title The Brothers Menaechmus is a pastiche of Elizabethan or olde worlde word order. In modern English it would simply be The Menaechmus Brothers or, if this was a brat pack movie, The Menaechmus Boys.)

The years passed and the boys grew to manhood in their separate cities. Back in Epidamnus, Menaechmus reached manhood and the trader gave him a wife and dowry and, when the trader died, Menaechmus inherited his large estate, where he now lives. Anyway, that’s the back story, and now the play begins.

The plot

Enter Peniculus

Enter Peniculus, a prime example of the stock character, the parasitus. The editor and translator of this edition, E.F. Watling, has previously explained that the best way to understand this character type is as a kind of dinner companion for hire – educated men who go from patron to patron ingratiating themselves, trying to get invitations to dinner where they amuse with their witty conversation (the other characters call him a ‘table companion’).

As a result the parasitus is associated with comic speeches about food and Peniculus is no exception, entering to make a speech on the comic premise that, if you wanted to lock people up, to make them secure, you’d do better to give them stunning feasts each day rather than put them in chains. Who would willingly run off and lose the chance of a daily feast?

Thus Peniculus explains that he is Menaechmus’s ‘bond slave’ but willingly reports for duty at his villa for love of the amazing spreads.

Menaechmus the adulterer

Peniculus arrives just as young Menaechmus emerges from his villa, yelling back through the open door at his wife (a very characteristic position for a Plautus character). This opening speech establishes that he is not a noble character but a bad tempered adulterer. He accuses his wife of asking endless questions about his movements and spying on him. In the next breath he justifies her suspicions by revealing that he’s going to meet his mistress, Erotium, tonight and – in a comic manoeuvre – has smuggled out of the house his wife’s dresses by wearing it under his toga.

It’s at this point that Peniculus comes forward, they greet each other, shake hands and Menaechmus shows off to Peniculus his cunning little prank i.e. displays himself wearing the gown.

Menaechmus’ mistress, Erotium

Scared of Menaechmus’s wife, they move shiftily over to the house next door (as in so many of the plays, the set consists of two neighbouring houses) because, lo and behold, right next door is the house of Menaechmus’s mistress, Erotium. He knocks on the door, she comes out he declares his eternal love for her and gives her his wife’s gown, then declares they’re going to have a party at her place, Menaechmus, Peniculus and her, so can she get her cook to start cooking. And with that Menaechmus declares his off to town and exists, followed by his lackey Peniculus.

Erotium calls out her cook, Cylindrus, gives him three pounds and bids him go to the market to buy grub for lunch. When he hears one of them is Menaechmus’s table companion’ he complains that people like him can do the work of of eight men, but off he goes anyway, grumbling.

Quite obviously Menaechmus having a mistress is not designed to make any highfalutin’ moral or ethical points but to maximise the amount of confusion to be caused by the comic conceit of the identical twins: I predict not only his wife but his mistress will be thrown into turmoil by the arrival of the twin.

Enter Sosicles and Messenio

And sure enough enter Sosicles, or that was his original name until his brother was abducted and his grandfather renamed him Menaechmus. He’s just arrived by ship accompanied by his slave Messenio and a group (number unspecified) of slaves carrying his baggage.

Messenio is the grumpy sort of slave and complains to his master, and thus informs the audience, that Sosicles has been traipsing round the entire Mediterranean searching for his brother, calling in at the Danube, Spain, Massilia, Illyria, all over the Adriatic, the Greek colonies and the entire coast of Italy (p.111).

Messenio goes on to explain that the inhabitants of the place they’ve arrived at, Epidamnus, have a bad reputation.

Obviously they’ve arrived in front of Menaechmus’s villa while Messenio makes a long speech about how they haven’t a hope in hell of finding Menaechmus, he must be long dead. At which point Erotium’s cook, Cylindrus, arrives back from the market. When he sees Sosicles he of course thinks he is Menaechmus, the guest for the planned lunch party, waiting outside his mistress’s house. And so into the first of many comic misidentifications and misunderstandings.

Misunderstanding 1 Sosicles and Cylindrus

Cylindrus, of course, thinks Sosicles is Menaechmus arrived for lunch and engages him in casual conversation. Sosicles, of course, is completely bewildered at being addressed familiarly by a strange slave, and when he assumes he (Sosicles) lives next door, with his wife, Sosicles thinks he must be mad and gives him money to buy a sacrifice to make at the shrine of the god of lunatics. Of course, Cylindrus thinks Sosicles is mad – with Sosicles’ slave Messenio chipping in from the sidelines.

Misunderstanding 2 Sosicles and Erotium

Cylindrus goes in the house and is replaced by Erotium who appears and, of course, calls Sosicles ‘darling’ and carries on a normal conversation with him (p.115), reminding him that he a) brought her a gown of his wife’s b) asked her to prepare lunch for him and his table companion (p.116). Obviously, Sosicles thinks she is mad, though is puzzled how she knows his name.

N.B: It’s important to remember that the twins both have the same name. Menaechmus was always the name of the boy who was abducted, the other one, Sosicles, was renamed Menaechmus by his grandfather. So they both have the same name. When I refer to Sosicles in this summary it is to clarify who is who, but he isn’t referred to as Sosicles in the play.

All these confusions give Messenio the opportunity to say he warned his boss about Epidamnus – looks like the reputation is true, it really is full of lunatics.

After conferring with his slave Sosicles takes the decision that he’s going to play along with this pretty woman. If she wants to give him a free lunch and witter on about his non-existent wife, then, sure, he’ll play nice. So he apologises to Erotium for being confused and she, now mollified, invites him into her house. Messenion warns him to watch himself but Sosicles reckons he’s on to a good thing, a free lunch and then maybe some afternoon delight.

Misunderstanding 3 Sosicles and Peniculus

The table companion Peniculus has been at some public meeting all morning and arrives in a bad mood to spy Sosicles emerging from Erotium’s house, obviously drunk, with a laurel wreath at a rakish angle on his head and calling back to Erotium that he promises to take the gown (the one Menaechmus gave her that morning) to a dressmaker’s in town to have it adjusted.

When Peniculus steps forward to castigate Sosicles for starting (and finishing) lunch without telling him, Sosicles, naturally enough, says he’s no idea who he is or what he’s talking about. As in every one of these encounters, they each think the other must be mad. Peniculus vows revenge, swearing he’ll tell Menaechmus’s wife all about his affair.

Misunderstanding 4 Sosicles and the maid

Erotium’s maid pops out of her house and asks Sosicles one more favour. Can he please take these gold bracelets, the ones he stole from his wife and gave to Erotium, to a goldsmith and have some gold added and reshaped. Sosicles is no longer bewildered, he is master of the situation and milking it for all he’s got, so he willingly accepts gold bracelets.

Then the maid takes things a bit further by asking if he can get her some pretty little gold earrings, please. Then next time he pops over she’s be everso nice to him (flutter eyelashes). Sosicles says, Sure, where’s the gold? But when the maid says she doesn’t have any, she was hoping he’d buy her some as a gift he loses interest and, realising it, the maid goes back into Erotium’s house.

At which point Peniculus emerges from Menaechmus’s house with the latter’s wife. He has told her everything. She is furious and asks herself how much longer she has to put up with this insulting behaviour? They spot Menaechmus coming and hide.

Misunderstanding 5 Menaechmus and wife

Sosicles had exited the stage in one direction. Now from the opposite direction enters the real, or original, Menaechmus. He delivers a page long soliloquy about what a pain it is being patron to a number of clients; he’s wasted his whole morning sorting out litigation around a client of his, an obvious crook, but in a patron-client society that’s what you have to do. He laments not having got away earlier for lunch although hopes the gift of the gown he stole from his wife will placate her. His wife is hiding behind a bush and hears him say this!

She steps out and accuses him of being a slimeball, egged on by the irate table companion Peniculus (‘That’s the way to talk to him’). Menaechmus desperately back pedals, disclaiming any knowledge of a mistress or stolen gown. This goes on for some time with Menaechmus until the furious wife finally says he’s not getting back into their house till he returns the gown, and goes into the house slamming the door!

Misunderstanding 6 Menaechmus and Erotium

Oh well, if his wife’s locked him out at least Erotium will give him a warm welcome. She’s pleased to see him back so soon but, of course, when he asks for the gown she is confused: she gave it to him not half an hour ago. His insistence that she give it back infuriates her and she slams the door in his face. Oops. Now he’s locked out of both women’s houses. He says he’ll go back into town looking for a friend to cheer him up.

Misunderstanding 7 Sosicles returns

Menaechmus’s wife looks out the door and sees Sosicles return with the famous gown. She thinks he’s come to make up with her. But when she confronts him, Sosicles is, of course, completely non-plussed and denies any knowledge of her. At which point, understandably, she reverts to her former fury. When she tells him that an hour ago he promised to find the gown and give it back to her he has no idea what she’s on about. All Sosicles knows is he spent a nice time with Erotium who gave him a gown to be altered. Who’s this madwoman ranting at him?

She’s so furious she sends a servant to fetch her aged father. He’ll sort out her faithless husband! When he arrives he tells his daughter off for being a scold and keeping such a tight watch on her husband i.e. he takes Menaechmus’s side. But then…

Misunderstanding 8 Sosicles and the father

Then the father actually confronts Sosicles, thinking he’s Menaechmus and, like everyone else, thinks the latter must have gone mad when he denies all knowledge of him. In fact it occurs to Sosicles that if people keep accusing him of being mad, maybe there’s some advantage to actually behaving mad, so he starts ‘gaping and flinging himself about’ (p.133) and starts to rant and rave and claiming to hear the gods’ instructions telling him to beat this ‘bitch’ and the ‘old goat’ i.e. wife and father.

Terrified, she runs back inside the house leaving her father to grapple with Sosicles who pretends to be hearing instructions from Apollo himself telling him to run the old man over with a (non-existent) chariot and horses. They grapple till Sosicles falls to the floor. The father thinks he’s had a stroke so says he’d better hurry and fetch a doctor. Once he’s gone Sosicles gets up, dusts himself off, declares everyone here is mad, and decides he’d better get back to his boat while the coast is clear.

Misunderstanding 9 Father, doctor and Menaechmus

The father returns, out of breath, with a doctor who is just asking the symptoms of the patient when the real Menaechmus enters. Obviously he knows nothing of the encounter which just ended in which his identical twin feigned madness and fell to the floor. So he hasn’t a clue what the father is describing and the doctor is quizzing him about and answers all the latter’s impertinent questions rudely (‘Jupiter and all the gods blast you and your silly questions’, p.137). But he quickly becomes so angry, and answers so sarcastically, that he does himself appear mad, just like his twin had. So the doctor suggests Menaechmus is brought over to his house so he can supervise his treatment (hellebore seems to be the recommended drug). They exit to go and get some strong slaves to grab, bind and take Menaechmus away.

They both exit leaving Menaechmus alone. He sits down and a) wonders what on earth has possessed these two to accuse him of being mad and b) what the devil is going to happen now he’s locked out by both his wife and mistress.

Misunderstanding 10 Menaechmus and Messenio

Messenio is Sosicles’s slave. Last time he saw his master he told him to see the slaves and baggage settled at an inn, which he’s achieved. Now he re-enters and goes up to Erotium’s door because that’s the last time he saw his master, going in to have lunch with Erotium. But before he can knock on her door, he witnesses the father returning with four strong slaves. And then sees them set on Menaechmus, with a view to binding him and carrying him away.

Menaechmus calls for help and Messenio comes to his rescue and there’s quite a fight with our pair finally getting the better of the foursome who run away. Now, of course, Messenio not only expects Menaechmus to recognise him but asks for a big reward: will he set him free?

(I commented in my review of Captivi how almost all the plays include a slave who performs adroit services for his master and promptly asks to be freed, wondering if this was a reality of Roman life or just a hilarious staple of stage comedy.)

Menaechmus, of course, has now idea who Messenio is and thought he was a good samaritan coming to his aid. He tells him to his face he’s no idea who he is but, by all means, go free. Messenio takes this as meaning he has been liberated and cries tears of joy. He says he’ll go and get the purse of money, baggage and slaves from the inn and rushes off. Menaechmus refuses to be fazed by this but has no idea what he’s talking about.

He knocks on Erotium’s door with a view to trying to get the famous gown back and give it to his wife, completely unaware that Sosicles went off with it some time ago.

Misunderstanding 11

On the way to the inn Messenio has bumped into his real master, Sosicles. Now they enter arguing. Sosicles of course knows nothing about Messenio rescuing him from the four slaves and giving him his liberty. Oh no he bloody well didn’t, says Sosicles.

The catastrophe

In classical literary theory, the catastrophe is:

the final resolution in a poem or narrative plot, which unravels the intrigue and brings the piece to a close. (Wikipedia)

It’s at this moment, just as Sosicles is telling his slave Messenio he has no idea what he’s talking about, that Menaechmus walks out Erotium’s front door and comes face to face with his identical twin, Sosicles. The comedy is dramatised by being seen through the eyes of a third party, Messenio.

The two brothers are slow to recognise each other but it is Messenio’s comic intervention, claiming to be the slave of each in turn and getting them muddled up, which is played for a few more laughs.

In fact it is Messenio who takes Sosicles aside and points out that this other fellow may well be his long lost twin brother. He suggests they ask him a few more questions and Sosicles readily agrees. The play then mutates into a kind of courtroom drama with Messenio playing the role of interrogating counsel as he asks Menaechmus a series of questions which confirm that he is indeed the little boy from Syracuse who lost his father in a crowd, was kidnapped and adopted by a stranger who raised him here in Epidamnus.

At each answer Sosicles cries out in wonder with Messenio impatiently telling him to wait his turn to question the witness. Presumably a) the conceit of being a courtoom was meant to be funny as was b) the idea of a slave like Messenio impersonating a magistrate.

There’s still a smidgeon of doubt at which point Menaechmus asks Sosicles what their mother’s name was. Sosicles replies Teuximarcha. All doubts are removed, they both realise they are each other’s twin brother and embrace in tears.

The resolution

If you remember, Sosicles has been on a vast 6-year-long odyssey round the Mediterranean looking for his long-lost brother. Now that quest is at an end. Menaechmus resolves to accompany him back to the family home in Syracuse. He says he’ll quickly sell up all his property here then they can depart. Oh and Menaechmus asks Sosicles to give Messenio his freedom, as a favour to him, seeing as how he stoutly defended him in the battle of the four slaves.

1. It is very striking that the catastrophe did not involve either of the women, Menaechmus’s wife or mistress. Surely there was a world of comic potential, not to mention some kind of reconciliation with his wife, waiting to take place here. But it simply doesn’t happen. As if the women really are just pawns in the plot, who can be dispensed with as soon as they’re not needed; as if the only reconciliation which counts is male, among men, between the brothers, and to some extent Messenio.

2. The very last passage of the play is when Messenio cheekily asks the brothers if he can be their auctioneer, they say yes, and this gives Plautus the opportunity to show the cheeky slave impersonating an auctioneer, using his patter to quickly describe the contents and effects of Menaechmus’s house – everything must be sold off, including his wife (‘should there be any purchaser’) – before quickly bringing the play to an end with the traditional request for the audience’s applause.

Roman slavery

As in most of the other plays the thing which catches my attention most is the ubiquitous condition of slavery, of ordinary, everyday, commonplace slavery which everyone took for granted. Messenio is given a speech in which he describes how he’s made a conscious decision to be a good slave, which he defines as one who attends to his master’s welfare, plans his business and organises his affairs as effectively in his absence as in his presence. OK. Then goes on describe what life has in store for slaves who are worthless, idle or dishonest, namely:

floggings, chains, the treadmill, sweating, starving, freezing stiff. (p.138)

Is this an accurate description? It brings home the way a master would be friendly with, spend most of his life with, joke, laugh, cry, share his ups and downs with a person who he also order to do everything for him, run errands, fetch and carry, serve and please and who, if he (all the slaves in these plays are men) upsets, irritates his master or falls short, can be submitted to a staggering range of physical punishment and abuse.

And, as in so many of the plays, the top thing on Messenio’s mind was winning his freedom. As soon as he’s helped Menaechmus fight off the four slaves, he asks for his freedom. Is this what it was like? Did slaves think all the time of how to get free, and pester their masters for requests to be freed? Did they ever make such requests? Was there a recognised time or occasion which might merit it? Were there social conventions and forms of words?

Interestingly, Messenio says that, if he is freed, his one-time master becomes his patron. Is that how it worked. Was ‘freedom’ the exchange from one recognised form of hierarchical relationship for another? Did a freed slave remain within the orbit and indeed the service of his master/patron, only with freedom of action?

Messenio, after he thinks Menaechmus has freed him, hurries to say he still wants to take his orders and go home with him and carry on living with him. Was this meant to be funny because it indicated what a poor notion of freedom Messenio had? Or was it a commonplace situation, that freed slaves continued to live in their former master’s houses but on new terms? How was that managed by everyone concerned, not least the other slaves who remained in their unfree condition?


Credit

Page references are to the Penguin paperback edition of The Rope and Other Plays by Plautus, translated by E.F. Watling and published by Penguin in 1964.

Related link

Roman reviews

Captivi (The Prisoners) by Plautus (c.200 BC)

Prologue

Hegio is a wealthy man living in the Greek city of Aetolia. Years ago his slave, Stalagmus, stole Hegio’s four-year-old son and ran off, never to be seen again. Hegio had one other son, Philopolemus.

Now, years later, Philopolemus is grown up. But Hegio’s city is at war with the Greeks of Elis and Philopolemus has gone off to fight in the war and gotten himself captured. He is a prisoner of war with the Elisians. So Hegio has been buying up prisoners of war from Elis with a view to finding one who is of such high status that he can be exchanged for his son.

Plot

This explains why the play opens outside the house of Hegio with the sight of two prisoners of war chained to the wall. These Elisian prisoners are Philocrates and his slave Tyndarus. Before the action of the play started they exchanged clothes with the idea that the noble master might be safer if he’s disguised as a slave. The play opens with them exchanging noble sentiments and respect for each other. In fact the play is dominated by very uncomedic sentiments of nobility and dignity from all involved, more like one of Shakespeare’s problem plays than a comedy.

Philocrates-posing-as-Tyndarus goes on his mission

Anyway, when Hegio lets Philocrates and Tyndarus know that his son, Philopolemus, is now a slave in Elis belonging to a doctor named Menarchus, the Elisian pair excitedly declare that they know this doctor and should be able to easily ransom him if one of them is sent back to Elis to bargain (p.68).

They keep the pretence of having each other’s identities so that when Hegio decides to send the slave, Tyndarus, while keeping the (more valuable) noble Philocrates with him, he is, in fact, all unknowingly, actually sending Philocrates and keeping the slave Tyndarus.

Once the decision is made and Hegio has left the stage, there is a great deal of noble ‘it is a far, far better thing I do’ kind of speechifying between the two noble Greeks, master and servant. And so Philocrates-posing-as-Tyndarus is sent back to Elis. Then Hegio declares he is going off to his brother’s to check on some of the other POWs he’s bought.

Ergasilus

The gap is filled by the arrival of Ergasilus. He is described in the text as a parasitus. E. F. Watling in his introduction explains that the straight English translation of this term, ‘parasite’, is too harsh. Ergasilus is a social type who has disappeared, a kind of professional table companion, a man who makes a living by hawking himself around in the forum as a dining companion available for hire, who has ‘nothing but his witty conversation to live on’. As a comic stereotype, because his main aim in life is to get invited to dinner, the parasitus‘s stock conversation is fantasies of gluttony.

(He reminds me a bit of the character John Beaver in Evelyn Waugh’s novel A Handful of Dust, who is always available for society hostesses when someone drops out of a dinner party at the last minute; a quick phone call to Beaver and he’ll be round in 20 minutes to make up the numbers, grovelling and grateful.)

Anyway, Ergasilus gives a comic soliloquy about what a wretched day he’s having trawling round the forum for work and how everyone’s ignoring him. He comically fantasises about bringing criminal proceedings against all the fine gentlemen who have ignored him in the forum, demanding they each give him ten dinners for free!

Enter Aristophontes

But really his scene was a filler to cover Hegio’s departure and return, for now Hegio returns with a fine  Elisian prisoner of war who he’s recently bought, one Aristophontes. Aristophontes has told Hegio that he’s a good friend of old Philocrates (the master of the pair of Elisian POWs at the heart of the story) and would love to see him.

Except that Aristophontes is, of course, astonished when Hegio introduces Tyndarus as being Philocrates. Not being in on the ruse, Aristophontes begins to protest, telling Hegio that this isn’t Philocrates, this is his slave Tyndarus. Tyndarus, in a panic at having his cover blown, comes up with a comic excuse on the spot: he claims that Aristophontes is mad! Famous for it. Has epileptic fits. Once attacked his family with a spear! Don’t believe a word he says (p.76).

Hegio starts out by believing Tyndarus but Aristophontes’ indignation and anger and repeated impassioned oaths, swearing on his life that Tyndarus is not Philocrates, eventually wins him round and persuades him that he has been duped by the pair and sent the master back to Elis, not as he had intended, the slave.

Hegio punishes Tyndarus

Tyndarus is eventually forced to admit it’s the truth, he is Tyndarus, it was Philocrates the master who Hegio sent back to Elis. But he points out that he did it out of love for his master, ensuring his master Philocrates was sent home safe and sound to be reunited with his family while he, Tyndarus, bore the risk that he might not return even at the risk of his own life.

Tyndarus asks Hegio if he wouldn’t reward a slave who showed the same fidelity to him? Hegio grudgingly concedes that maybe he would, but nonetheless he is furious at being deceived. He has Tyndarus tightly bound with ropes and swears he’ll be sent off to have iron shackles set on him and then sent to the worst fate possible, forced labour in the underground stone quarries (p.82).

Far too late Aristophontes realises what a noble thing Tyndarus has done and how his insistence on blowing Tyndarus’s cover has consigned him to a wretched fate, but Hegio orders that Aristophontes, also, is bundled away.

Hegio’s disappointment

It’s maybe worth emphasising that Hegio’s towering rage has two sources: one is that he has been made a fool of; he had told his brother and his friends about how he’d released Philocrates-as-Tyndarus and sent him back to Elis to reclaim his son – so now he fears that he will exposed as a ‘laughing stock’ (p.84).

But the other spur to anger is that he had genuinely got his hopes up about his son – and now believes his one chance at getting him released has been foiled by these rascals. So it is bitter disappointment that he won’t be seeing his son again which also fuels his anger, and the audience can understand that. For a farceur, there are surprising depths of characterisation and feeling in this play.

Guess what Ergasilus has seen

He’s in the middle of explaining all this in a soliloquy when the parasitus Ergasilus comes bustling in very pleased with himself. Ergasilus insists that Hegio sends out for the best food available and whips up a huge feast and treats him as his best friend, puzzling Hegio who asks him what the devil he’s on about. Plautus has Ergasilus drag out his explanation of what’s going on for pages and pages until the audience becomes as restive and cross with Ergasilus’s obfuscation and delay as Hegio does.

Eventually Ergasilus bloody spits it out: down at the harbour who has he just seen getting off a boat but Hegio’s son Philopolemus!! And not only him, but also Hegio’s old slave Stalagmus, the one who ran away with Hegio’s first son when he was just 4 years old!!!

Ergasilus gets his reward

At first Hegio can’t believe it but when Ergasilus keeps swearing it’s true in a series of escalating oaths, Hegio finally believes it and tells Ergasilus to go into his house and run riot in the kitchen and stuff his face – in fact he makes him his butler! So Hegio exits, running down to the harbour, while Ergasilus goes into his house.

In scenes of broad farcical comedy, Ergasilus’s ingress is followed by sounds of mayhem coming from within until a boy runs out of the house to deliver a description of the chaos Ergasilus is causing, breaking down the pantry doors and ransacking the place for goodies. Again, like Ergasilus’s interlude earlier in the play, this is really just stage business, an interlude, to cover the notional time required for Hegio to make it down to the harbour and now, as he does, to return onstage.

The return of Philopolemus

For Hegio now enters accompanied by his beloved son Philopolemus, by the notorious slave Stalagmus and by Philocrates the noble POW, who has kept his word, freed his son and brought him home.

Hegio is, of course, overjoyed. But the finale of the play has an oddly unemotional feel: it is more by way of being a kind of logical distribution of just deserts. It is a sort of dramatised lesson in ethics. So:

For keeping his word and delivering his son to him, Hegio grants Philocrates anything he wishes which, of course, is his loyal slave Tyndarus. Hegio apologetically admits he’s had him consigned to the quarries (although, as this was only about 8 minutes ago, we can’t imagine he’s got very far; another example of the way the plays work in a kind of imaginary time, not real, logical time at all).

Mary Beard described Plautus’s plays as stereotypical ‘boy meets girl’ stories, but none of the ones I’ve read are like that. It would be more accurate to describe them as ‘master frees slave’ stories. The master-slave relationship is much more central to Plautus’s plays than ‘romantic’ love.

Stalagmus’s secret

Anyway, the noble Elisian Philocrates accompanies the recently freed Philopolemus into Hegio’s house, leaving the stage to Hegio and the surly slave who stole his son all those years ago, Stalagmus.

Hegio tells Stalagmus that if he speaks the truth he may avoid the heinous punishment which is otherwise looming over him. So Stalagmus, briefly, makes the startling revelation that he stole Hegio’s son, ran off to Elis and there sold him to a man named Theodoromides…who we know from conversation earlier in the play is none other than Philocrates’ father. For a split second I thought this meant noble Philocrates was Hegio’s long-lost son, but Stalagmus goes on to confirm with Philocrates that the latter received a little playmate-slave when he was 4, a boy known everyone knew as ‘Laddie’ but formally named Tyndarus (p.93)!

So that explains why Tyndarus has since the start of the play behaved (and spoken) with such super-aristocratic nobility – it is because, as in so many fairy stories, he is of aristocratic blood and good breeding always shows.

Tyndarus is released – happy ending

At which point Tyndarus arrives back onstage, shackled and carrying a crowbar and looking rough and dirty from what is implied has been years of suffering in the terrible stone quarries (which we saw him depart for only 15 minutes ago; we are operating in imaginary theatrical time).

And so Hegio and Philocrates tell a startled Tyndarus the full story: that he is Hegio’s son, stolen all those years ago, and now they are going to release him from the quarries and make him a free man and restore him to his father.

Stalagmus turns to the audience and makes the final speech. He points out the qualities of the play, namely that it contains no wenching, no intriguing, no exposure of a child, no cheating out of money, no young man in love without father’s knowledge or permission. On the contrary, it is founded on chaste manners, a rare example of a drama showing how good men might become better. And so he asks for the audience’s applause.

THE END.


Credit

Page references are to the Penguin paperback edition of The Rope and Other Plays by Plautus, translated by E.F. Watling and published by Penguin in 1964.

Related link

Roman reviews

Plautus (254 to 184 BC)

Biography

Titus Maccius Plautus (254 to 184 BC), generally referred to as Plautus, was a Roman playwright of the Republican era. His comedies are the earliest Latin literary works to have survived in their entirety. It is said he moved to Rome and became a theatre assistant and actor who became successful with comic parts. However, as soon as he had the capital, he went into business as a merchant shipper. However, his business went bust and sometime around the age of 40 he used his knowledge of theatre to turn to playwriting. Plautus is a nickname meaning flat-footed or broad-footed.

Plautus published a large number of plays from 205 BC to his death in 184. He claimed simply be to importing and translating original Greek plays rather as a wholesaler imports Greek olives for the Roman market. However, although none of the direct sources have survived, scholars believe Plautus often amended and rewrote his models, sometimes changing the plot or combining plot elements from two original Greek works into one new play. And Plautus himself indicates as much when he refers to himself and his own practice in some of the plays’ chatty prologues.

Plautus wrote around 130 plays. Twenty of these plays survive in their entirety, with small fragments from 30 others, making him the most prolific dramatist from the entire ancient world, Greek or Roman, in terms of surviving work

Greek old and new comedy

Plautus freely borrowed his plots and characters from the Greek comedy of his day. This had come to be referred to, generically, as the New Comedy to distinguish it from the older style, which was referred to, unsurprisingly, as Old Comedy. The difference is simple: old Greek comedy tackled big political  and social issues and the new comedy didn’t. An example of Old Comedy is Aristophanes’ comedy Lysistrata in which the womenfolk of Athens go on a sex strike to force their men to call a truce in the ruinous Peloponnesian War. That play dates from around 410 BC i.e. 200 years before Plautus.

Greek New Comedy came in about a hundred years later and is most associated with the playwright Menander (c. 342 to 291 BC). The difference is that New Comedy dropped political themes, satire and serious moral or intellectual subject matter in order to focus solely on comic situations. These are generally set in domestic households and featuring a stock set of characters, usually an objectionable father who argues with his wastrel son, a scolding wife/mother, a young woman from a neighbouring household who the son is in love with, and a clever servant who outwits his master and fixes everything. So stock and standard were these character types that the Romans had special words for them:

  • adulescens = young man, the hero
  • virgo = maiden, the love interest
  • senex = old man, generally presenting an obstacle to the true love of the young couple, often with a particular humour or foible for example the miserliness of Euclio
  • servus callidus = clever slave, whose nimble footwork in helping
  • servus stultus = foolish slave
  • parasitus = parasite or sycophant – in his introduction to Captivi E.F. Watling says a more accurate translation might be paid ‘table companion’
  • miles gloriosus = braggart soldier
  • meretrix = courtesan
  • cooks – thrown in for comic moments

E.F. Watling, the editor and translator of the Penguin edition, speculates that Plautus may in fact have been a slave, when he started in theatre, which was only an occasional and low class occupation (most plays were only performed once at festivals they were written for; many actors belonged to slave masters). This would explain one of the distinctive features of his plays, which is the wide variety of slave types which appear in them, and the sympathetic lines about a slave’s miserable lot in life which he gives to many of them. And the way witty and canny slaves often come of the plays very well. Maybe. But maybe not.

Three points

1. Although Plautus was Roman and wrote in Latin and all his plays were performed in Rome, they are all actually set in Greek locations and the characters have (often ludicrously contorted) Greek names. That said, the plays freely invoke Roman ideas, customs and laws, creating a sort of cultural hybrid.

2. The plays were written in verse, quite complicated verse. As the Encyclopedia Britannica puts it:

Plautus’s plays are written in verse, as were the Greek originals. The metres he used included the iambic six foot line (senarius) and the trochaic seven foot line (septenarius), which Menander had also employed. But Plautus varied these with longer iambic and trochaic lines and more elaborate rhythms. The metres are skillfully chosen and handled to emphasize the mood of the speaker or the action. It is possible that now lost Greek plays inspired this metrical variety and inventiveness, but it is much more likely that Plautus was responding to features already existing in popular Italian dramatic traditions. The Senarii (conversational lines) were spoken, but the rest was sung or chanted to the accompaniment of double and fingered reed pipes, or auloi. It could be said that, in their metrical and musical liveliness, performances of Plautus’s plays somewhat resembled musicals of the mid-20th century.

3. As the sheer volume of his output suggests, Plautus wrote in a hurry and his plays work in a hurry. They are full of slapstick, pratfalls, ludicrous situations. Later literary critics were (and still are) snooty about this but it makes them feel incredibly modern and accessible.

E.F. Watling’s translations

Watling was commissioned to by Penguin to translate nine of Plautus’s plays, four in this volume and five in its sister volume ‘The Pot of Gold and other plays’. The two volumes were published in 1964 and 1965 (the introduction is actually dated 1963, ‘between the Lady Chatterley ban and the Beatles first LP’). Penguin wanted to make the world’s greatest literature as accessible as possible to the widest possible audience. Therefore they asked Watling to produce versions which were ready to produce for the stage. So:

Prose not verse

1. All his translations are in prose. There are only occasional attempts to capture the complex verse of the originals or the comic or dramatic effects Plautus created by having characters switch between different Roman verse forms.

Rather mind bogglingly ‘a considerable part’ of the original texts were designed to be sung to the accompaniment of a flute (!). As Watling says, it’s hard to see what kind of contemporary theatrical idiom, that could possibly be translated into. So his versions for the most part don’t even try, apart from long soliloquies, such as the prologues or speeches on specific subjects, which he casts into very loose iambic verse, and for a handful of short songs. Instead they aim for a fluent, fast-moving, rangy, continuous 1960s prose and are very enjoyable for it.

No notes

2. There is a complete absence of notes or scholarly apparatus, no footnotes explaining references or indicating gaps in the text or problems with the manuscript or all the other editorial issues old texts are  so often cluttered with. You’re meant to pick his translations up and start reading them out loud and performing them straight away.

Watling explains that the plays have come down in the manuscript tradition neatly divided into acts and scenes. He thinks these are much later scholarly interferences so has dumped them. On the other hand, Watling has added stage directions and these are very useful. He points out that almost all the actions that occur in a Plautus play are described in the dialogue, so much so that, as he strikingly puts it: ‘a blind audience could follow every move in a Plautine play’ (p.17). Still. It saves time and mental effort to have them written out explicitly so you’re free to concentrate on the comic plots and witty wordplay.


Credit

Page references are to the Penguin paperback edition of The Rope and Other Plays by Plautus, translated by E.F. Watling and published by Penguin in 1964.

Roman reviews

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