Asinaria: The One about the Asses

6 Stick to the Script

166 6 Stick to the Script 746–809 Pal writes a contract for rival Loverboy 810–827 Loverboy’s Pal will snitch to Mother on his new rival: Father Once more in the play, someone just missed the wave, and must play catch-up. Diabolus the other (half of the) young lover (role) is too late. Ha! The play’s least favourite son, this earwig you mustn’t let burrow into your mind and laser the fun in you, has taken too long to write his own script, and now Asinaria has him beat. He brings an agent of his own, hustling to the stable-door and bustling away when the horse has already bolted. Just when the rest of the cast thought he’d beat them to it, he missed the boat. He doesn’t know how far we’ve come through the comedy, he’s still using an intermediary when the others have used theirs up, and the gloves are off. And reading off a contract between client and callgirl makes an obvious way to start a comedy.1 “Diabolus himself comes up with the next play (to tell Demaenetus’ wife, line 811), but the writing must be left to the parasite (820–27).”2 In the end, his Pal will try on another “contract,” for another day and another comedy. He would like to broker another way to fix the year: a 50/50 split, a trilateral bargain (915–18: p. 170). But this isn’t how they see the draft they think they are finalizing, to settle once for all (year) Who Gets the Girl. It’s meant to wrap it up (746–7, 749–50, 802, 809): DIAB All right. Show us. The contract you’ve scripted, between me; playmate; madam. Rendition of conditions. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PAL I’ll see madam shudder, when she hears the conditions. DIAB Action—Lord, a transmition for me. . . . . . . . . . . . . DIAB Lovely script from you. Real pro of a contract. Stick to the Script 167 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . DIAB Just love those conditions. Sure do. These smart asses, they’ve seen to all the ins and outs. Each and every last i and t are dotty and cross.3 In the line of duty, the draughtsman must mime banned mouthwork for our benefit (794–8, sic . . ., simulat, sic): “Coughing: if she happens to start, she shall not cough, such that in coughing so, she snakes out her tongue: at no one. Item: suppose she does ham up a snot-runny cold, she shall not make like this. You shall wipe her lip clean rather than she openly fakes a kiss: for no one.” We’ll stitch up Mme Maman, with a penalty clause banning her from “joining in the wine” and using the rough edge of her tongue (“fine: 20 . . . —days off the booze”: 799–802). And we’ll stitch up Mlle Aimée, with a ratio (parity) of “as many filthy nights” with Diabolus “as nights she says she wants clean” (806–7). No hitches (752–5): PAL “Mme gets the fee of 20 minae, cash, for Ms Storyville to be with him both night and day this year’s duration—.” DIAB “—And with no one else, either.” PAL Stick that in? DIAB Yes, stick it in. See your script is clean and clear. No glitches, either, in case she gets wise and plays the system against itself (786–90, ne . . . commoveat → moueri): DIAB I don’t want her having a prop, and saying she’s barred. PAL I know: frightened of quibbles. A n-n-nod’s as good as a wink to a blind horse (784, nutet, nictet, adnuat). No quibbles. Puns verboten. Tricks proscribed. Etc., Etc., Etc. “The parasite and Diabolus [are] as much the enemies of ludus as any agelastic senex. Note that Diabolus is also afraid of the power of other poets/artists. He particularly fears writing and painting” (761–4).4 He fears that the courtesan will 168 Commentary and Analysis behave as a courtesan must, playing men off against each other in all the ageold ways specified in the contract: in her element, as party-girl. She fakes, just like a woman, in the very next scene.5 Odd-man-out Diabolus (first named at 634) has sleepwalked his simple path thus far. Now he finds he is in Plautus’ farce, and plenty of company. Straight back out of the brothel he bursts. Second time around...