Chapter 18

44 Shall we examine you, then, from boyhood? I think so: let us start at the beginning. Do you remember going bankrupt before you had put off your boy’s bordered toga? “That was my father’s fault,” you will say. I grant it: a defense full of filial devotion. Yet it was your own audacity that made you sit in the fourteen rows, though the Roscian law assigned bankrupts a particular place, even if their bankruptcy arose from misfortune rather than their own fault. You put on the toga of a man and at once turned it into a woman’s. At first you were a common prostitute, with a fixed price for your disgrace, and no small one. But Curio soon intervened, drew you away from the prostitute’s trade and, as though clothing you in a married woman’s dress, settled you in a fixed and lasting marriage.

45 No boy bought for sexual pleasure was ever so completely in his master’s power as you were in Curio’s. How many times did his father drive you from the house? How many times did he set guards to bar your entrance? Yet with night as your accomplice, lust urging you and payment compelling you, you would lower yourself through the roof. That house could endure such disgraces no longer. Do you realize I am speaking of matters I know intimately? Remember when the elder Curio lay grieving on his bed, while his son threw himself at my feet, in tears, commending you to my care. He begged me to defend him against his father if he demanded the six million sesterces: that, he said, was the amount for which he had stood surety on your behalf. Burning with love, he declared that he would go into exile, unable to bear the pain of separation from you.

46 What troubles I soothed—or rather, removed—from that flourishing family then! I persuaded the father to pay his son’s debts, to use his property to ransom a young man of the highest promise in character and ability, and, exercising a father’s lawful power, to forbid him not only your intimacy but even your company. Remembering that I had done all this, would you have dared provoke me with abuse unless you trusted in those swords we can see?

44 So, shall we look at you from boyhood? I think so. Let’s start at the beginning. Do you remember going bankrupt in your boyhood toga? “That was my father’s fault,” you’ll say. Fair enough. That’s certainly a loving son’s defense. But you were responsible for daring to sit in the fourteen rows. The Roscian law set aside a particular place for bankrupts. That applied even when bad luck caused their bankruptcy, not their own fault. You put on a man’s toga. You immediately turned it into a woman’s toga. At first, you were a common whore. Your disgraceful services had a set price, and no small one. But Curio soon stepped in. He took you away from earning money through prostitution. As though he’d given you a married woman’s dress, he settled you in a lasting, dependable marriage.

45 No boy bought for sex was ever so completely under his owner’s control as you were under Curio’s. How often did his father throw you out of his house? How often did he post guards to keep you from crossing the threshold? Yet you still let yourself down through the roof tiles. Night was your accomplice. Lust urged you on. Your fee left you no choice. That house couldn’t put up with your disgraceful acts any longer. Do you know I’m talking about things I know very well? Remember when Curio’s father lay grieving on his bed. His son threw himself at my feet in tears. He begged me to look after you. He asked me to defend him against his father if his father demanded six million sesterces. He said he’d guaranteed that much for you. He was burning with love. He insisted he’d go into exile, because he couldn’t bear the pain of being parted from you.

46 What terrible troubles I calmed in that thriving family then—or rather, removed altogether! I persuaded the father to pay his son’s debts. He should use the family’s resources to buy back that young man, whose character and talent showed such promise. He should use his authority and power as a father to stop more than your close friendship. He should prevent you from even meeting. You remembered that I’d done all this. Without your faith in those swords we can see, you’d never have dared to provoke me with insults.