UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 UNI\ TKSITY of CALIFORNIA 
 
 AT 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 LIBRARY
 
 i ti 
 
 COMEDIES 
 
 O F 
 
 TERENCE, 
 
 Trauflated into FAMILIAR BLANK VERST. 
 By GEORGE COLMAN. 
 
 . Priuti'ti populi arripuit populumque tributtm : 
 biiucet uni eequus wirtuti atque ejus amicis. 
 Quin ubi fe a <vulgo et fcena in fecreta remorant 
 Virtus Scipiadte et miti$ fapientia L&lt, 
 Nugari cum illo et difcinfti ludere, donee 
 Decoqueretur olus, folitii. ^., Ho a. 
 
 The SECOND EDITION, revifed and correfted 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for T. BECKET and P. A. DE HONDT, in the 
 and R. BALDWIN, in Pater-nofter-Ro-iu, 
 MDC<?LXVIII.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 AN attempt to give a new tranfla- 
 tion of the Comedies of Te- 
 rence will, I believe, fcarce be 
 thought to demand an apology. Bernard 
 and Hoole were obfolete even in the days 
 of Echard; Echard and his co-adjutors, 
 it is univerfally agreed, prefented as im- 
 perfect an image of Terence, as Hobbs 
 of Homer, or Ogilby of Virgil ; and 
 thofe, who have fince employed them- 
 felves on this author, feem to have con- 
 fined their labours to the humble endea- 
 vour of affifting learners of Latin in the 
 conftrudlion of the original text. It is 
 
 not
 
 ii PREFACE. 
 
 not, however, the intention of this Pre- 
 face to recommend the prefent tranfla- 
 tioh, fuch as it is* by depreciating the 
 value of thofe that have gone before it j 
 and I will fairly confefs, that of fuch of 
 them as I thought it expedient to con^ 
 fult, I have made all the ufe that the 
 different genius of our undertakings 
 would admit* 
 
 When the beauties of Sophocles lay 
 buried in Adams's profe, it was no 
 wonder that a Greek Profeflbr, with a 
 laudable jealoufy for the reputation of 
 one of the firft writers in that language, 
 mould ftep forth, and endeavour to re- 
 commend him to the notice of the 
 Englifh Reader, by exhibiting him in a 
 poetical drefs. Blank Verfe is now con- 
 fidered as the life and foul of Tragedy; 
 though perhaps too much attention to 
 the language, in preference to the fable 
 
 and
 
 PREFACE. iii 
 
 and the manners, has been one of the 
 chief caufes of the failure of our mo- 
 dern Tragedies. From almoft all other 
 compofitions that meafure is now ex- 
 cluded; and fince the days of Milton, it 
 has been thought to relifh fo much of 
 the fublime, that it has fcarce ever been 
 fuffered to tread the ftage, as an attend- 
 ant on the Comick Mufe. Wherefore, 
 notwithftanding the praifes juftly due 
 to the Translator of Sophocles, it may 
 be thought ftrange to make the fame 
 experiment on Terence, to raife the 
 voice of Comedy againft her will, and 
 to force the author to wear the bufkin 
 inflead of the fock. 
 
 To thefe and the like obje&ions, the 
 reader might exped: an anfwer in the 
 following translation ; but there I will 
 not promife that he {hall find it. A 
 man of very moderate talents may form 
 a 2 a plan
 
 iv PREFACE, 
 
 a plan above his ability to execute ; and 
 his failure may ferve the caufe of letters, 
 though not very honourable to himfelf. 
 It may not be amifs, therefore, to con- 
 fider the nature of the undertaking, and 
 to examine the propriety of an attempt 
 to tranflate the plays of a Roman Go- 
 mick Poet into Englifh Blank Verfe. 
 
 It is well known that Comedy, as 
 well as Tragedy, owed its origin to a 
 kind of rude fong ;* Tragedy to the 
 Dithyrambick, and Comedy to the 
 Phallica : and as each of them began 
 to form themfelves into Dramatick Imi- 
 tations, each ftudied to adopt a meafure 
 fuited to their purpofe. Tragedy, the 
 more lofty, chofe the Tetrameter; and 
 Comedy, who aimed at familiarity, the 
 lambick. But as the ftile of Tragedy 
 improved, Nature herfelf, fays Ariftotle, 
 
 * Ariftot. vtpt rcw. p. r. . 
 
 directed
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 directed the writers to abandon the ca- 
 pering Tetrameter, and to embrace that 
 meafure which was moft accommodated 
 to the purpofes of dialogue; whence the 
 lambick became the common meafure 
 of Tragedy and Comedy. 
 
 * Hunc S o c c i cepere pedem y grandefo COTHURNI, 
 Alternis aptum fermonibus , et popular es 
 Vincent em Jlrepitus, e? natum rebus agendis. 
 
 lambicks fuited to the flage, 
 
 In comick humour, or in tragick rage, 
 With fweet variety were found to pleafe, 
 And taught the dialogue to flow with eafe ', 
 Their numerous cadence was for action fit, 
 And form'd to quell the clamours of the pit. 
 
 FRANCIS, 
 
 Some of the Tragedies of Sophocles, 
 and more of Euripides, have efcaped 
 the wreck of Grascian Literature : but; 
 
 9 
 * Hor. de Arte Poetic!, 
 
 a 3 none?
 
 T i PREFACE. 
 
 none of the Greek legitimate Comedies, 
 except thofe of Ariftophanes be fuch, 
 have come entire down to our times. 
 Yet even from thofe, as well as from the 
 fragments of Menander, Philemon, &c. 
 it is evident that meafure was fuppofed 
 to be as necefTary to Comedy as Tra- 
 gedy. 
 
 *In this, as well as in all other mat- 
 ters of literature, the ufage of Greece 
 was religioufly obferved at Rome. Plau- 
 tus, in his richeft vein of humour, is 
 numerous and poetical : and the Co- 
 medies of Terence, though we cannot 
 agree to read them after Bifliop Hare> 
 
 * Some pafiages in this the idea of this tranflation ; 
 
 prcfaccaretak.cn from a fmall and as the nature of the fub- 
 
 tract, publifhed fome time je& then led me to fay fome- 
 
 ago, entitled Critical Reflec- thing concerning the ufe of 
 
 tions on thcOld EnglifhDra- Meafure inComedy,! thought 
 
 maticlc Writers, which has it better to introduce thofe 
 
 fmce been prefixed by the paflages into this preface, 
 
 Eookfeller to Coxeter's Edi- than to repeat the very fame 
 
 tion of Maflinger. In that thing in other words, 
 little tract I firft mentioned 
 
 were
 
 PREFACE. yii 
 
 were evidently not written without re- 
 gard to Meafure. The Comick Poets 
 indeed indulge4 themfelves in many 
 licences ; but the particular character 
 of the meafure ufed by thofe authors, as 
 rnay be gathered from Horace, was its 
 familiarity, and near approach to com- 
 mon cpnyerfation, 
 
 # Idcirco quidam, Com<Edia necne poema 
 EfTet, quaefivere, quod acer fpiritus & vis 
 Nee verbis, nee rebus ineft : ntfi quodpede certg 
 Dffirt fernioni, fermo merus. 
 
 Some doubt, if Comedy be juftly though^ 
 A real poem, fince it may be wrought 
 In ftile and fubjedl, without fire or force ; 
 Andy bate the numbers, is but mere difcourfe. 
 
 FRANCIS. 
 
 By the Antients then it is evident 
 that Meafure was always confider- 
 pd as eflential to Comedy, nor has 
 
 * Hor. Sat, iv. lib. I. 
 
 a 4 it
 
 viii PREFACE, 
 
 it always been thought .improper even 
 among the Moderns. Our neighbours, 
 the French, feem to have imagined mere 
 profe, which, with Moliere's Bourgeois 
 Gentilhomme) the meaneft of us have 
 talked from our cradle, to be too little 
 elevated for the language of the theatre. 
 Even to this day, they write moft of 
 their plays, Comedies as well as Trage- 
 dies, in verfe ; and the excellent Avare 
 of Moliere had nearly failed of the ap- 
 plaufe it deferved by being written in 
 profe. In our own nation, Shakefpeare, 
 Jonfon, Beaumont and Fletcher, Maf- 
 fingcr, Shirley, and all our old writers, 
 ufed Blank Verfe in their Comedy : of 
 which practice it is too little to fay, 
 that it needs no apology. It deferves 
 the higheft commendation, fince it hath 
 been the means of introducing the moft 
 capital beauties into their competitions, 
 
 while
 
 PREFACE. ix 
 
 while the fame fpecies of excellence 
 could not poffibly enter into the come- 
 dies of a later period, when the Mufe 
 had conftrained herfelf to walk the ftage 
 in humble profe. 
 
 I would not however be underftood, 
 by what I have here faid of Meafure in 
 Comedy, to object to the ufe of profe, 
 or to infmuate that our modern pieces, 
 taken all together, are the worfe for be- 
 ing written in that ftile. That indeed is 
 a queftion that I am not called upon to 
 enter into at prefent ; and it is enough 
 for me to have {hewn that Poetical Dia- 
 logue was in ufe among our old writers, 
 and was the conftant practice of the 
 Antiencs. Menander and Apollodorus 
 wrote in meafure ; Terence, who copied 
 from their pieces, wrote in meafure ; 
 and consequently they, who attempt to 
 render his plays into a modern language, 
 
 fhould
 
 S PREFACE, 
 
 fliould follow the fame method. If Te- 
 rence, in the opinion of Qujntilian, 
 failed of transfufing all the elegancies 
 of Menander into his ftile, by neglect - 
 ing to adhere to Trimeters, how can 
 the tranflator of Terence hope to catch 
 the fmalleft part of his beauties by to- 
 tally abandoning the road of poetry, 
 and deviating entirely into profe ? If it 
 be too true of tranflations in general, 
 according to the fevere and witty cenr 
 fure of Don Quixote in his yifit to the 
 printing-houfe at Barcelona, that they 
 are like the wrong fide of Flemifli 
 Tapeftry, in which, though we diftin- 
 guifh the figures, they are confufed and 
 obfcured by ends and threads ; they, 
 who render verfe by profe, may be faid 
 purpofely to turn the pieces of their ori- 
 ginal the feamy fide without ; and to 
 avoid copying the plain face of nature, 
 
 in
 
 PREFACE. xi 
 
 in order to make their drawings after 
 the topfy-turvy figures of the Camera 
 Obfcura. 
 
 But this matter is not merely fpecula- 
 tive. The theory has long ago been con- 
 firmed by practice, and the firft tranf- 
 lators of the antient comick writers na- 
 turally gave poetical verfions of their 
 plays. We are told by Voltaire in the 
 Supplement to his General Hiftory, * 
 that early in the i6th century the beft 
 pieces of Plautus were translated into 
 Italian at Venice ; " and they tranfla- 
 " ted them," continues he, " into 
 cc Verfe, as they ought to be tranjla- 
 " tcdj Jince it was in Verfe that they 
 " were written by Plautus" In the 
 fame century, in the reign of Charles 
 IV. Baif, an old French Poet, tranfla- 
 tcd the Eunuch of our Author into 
 
 * Pag. 183. 
 
 French
 
 xii PREFACE. 
 
 French Verfe, and Madam Dacier her- 
 felf acknowledges it to have been an 
 excellent tranflation ; notwithftanding 
 which acknowledgment we cannot won- 
 der that She, who translated Homer in- 
 to profe, fliould do the fame thing by 
 Terence. Menage mentions an old 
 tranflation of all the works of Terence, 
 partly verfe, partly profe ; and I be- 
 lieve there is more than one tranflation 
 of all his plays into Italian verfe : be- 
 fides which, great part of The Andrian 
 and The Brothers have been translated 
 pretty clofely into French verfe by Ba- 
 ron, as well as of the Eunuch by Fon- 
 taine. 
 
 The French Heroick, if we may fcan 
 it by our Englifh ears, 
 
 Lcgltimumque fonum digit o callemus ct aure, 
 
 IS,
 
 PREFACE. xiii 
 
 is> like the Greek Tetrameter, a kind 
 of dancing meafure, ill fuited to the 
 purpofes of dialogue, noble or familiar; 
 and fo very inconvenient in poems of 
 length, that the want of a .proper mea- 
 fure in that language has occaSioned 
 that ftrange folecifm in letters, an Epick 
 Poem in Profe : but, notwithstanding 
 thefe difficulties, whoever will compare 
 Baron, Fontaine* and fome few pafiages 
 of Terence translated by Moliere, with 
 any profe translation, will immediately 
 be convinced of their great fuperiority. 
 The English Blank Verfe is happily con- 
 ceived in the true Spirit of that elegant 
 and magnificent Simplicity, which cha- 
 racterifes the Grecian lambick, and it 
 is remarked by the Rev. Mr. T. War- 
 ton, the learned and ingenious Poetry- 
 Profefibr of the Univerfity of Oxford, 
 that " an Alexandrine, entirely con- 
 
 fitting
 
 xiv PREFACE. 
 
 " fitting of lambick feet, anfwers pre- 
 " cifely to a pure Tetrametical lam- 
 " bick verfe of the Anticnts." * 
 
 The mere modern critick, whofe idea 
 of Blank Verfe is perhaps attached to 
 that empty fwell of phrafeology, fo fre- 
 quent in our late tragedies, may conii - 
 der thefe notions as void of foundati- 
 on ; and will not readily allow that 
 the fame meafure can be as well adapted 
 to the expreffion of comick humour, as 
 to the pathos of Tragedy : but practice, 
 as well as theory, has confirmed the 
 promifcuous ufe of it. It is obferved 
 byGravina, that as an Hexameter founds 
 very differently inHomer and inTheocri- 
 tus, fo doth an lambick in Tragedy and 
 Comedy. *f- Nobody will pretend that 
 there is the Icaft fimilarity between the 
 
 * Obfcrvations on the Fairy Queen, fecond Edit. p. 153. 
 f Delia Tragedia, Napoli, 1732. p. 6r. 
 
 3 ftile
 
 PREFACE. xv 
 
 ftile of Horace and Virgil ; and yet they 
 both life the fame meafure, But not to 
 dwell on argument, and rather to pro- 
 duce irrefragable proofs of the fac% let 
 me recur to the works of our old wri- 
 ters. Shakefpeare, Jonfon, Fletcher, &c. 
 fhall be my vouchers. Let the critick 
 carefully read over the works of thole 
 authors. There he will feldom or ever 
 find that tumour of Blank Verfe, to 
 which he has been fo much accuftomed 
 on the modern ftage. He will be fur- 
 prifed with a familiar dignity, which, 
 though it rifes fomewhat above ordinary 
 converfation, is rather an improvement 
 than perverfion of it. He will foon 
 be convinced, that Blank Verfe is by no 
 means appropriated folely to the Bufkin, 
 but that the hand of a mafter may mould 
 it to whatever purpofes he pleafes ; and 
 that in Comedy, it will not only admit 
 
 humour,
 
 *v PREFACE. 
 
 humour, but even heighten and embel- 
 lifli it. " The Britons," fays Mr. Se- 
 ward in his preface to the laft edition of 
 Beaumont and Fletcher,* " not only 
 " retained metre in their Comedies, but 
 cc alfo all the acer fpiritus, all the 
 " ftrength and nerves of poetry, which 
 " was in a good meafure owing to the 
 " happinefs of our Blank Verfe, which, 
 " at the fame time that it is capable of 
 the higheft fublimity, the moft ex- 
 teniive and nobleft harmony of the 
 Tragick and Epick ; yet, when ufed 
 familiarly, is fo near \hsfermo fedeftris^ 
 fo eaiy and natural, as to be well 
 " adapted even to the drolleft comick 
 " dialogue. -f Every one muft know 
 ' that the genteel parts of Comedy, de- 
 " fcriptions of polite life, moral fen- 
 
 * P*S- 38. t Pa S . 39- 
 
 " tences,
 
 cc 
 
 " 
 
 PR E F A C E* xvii 
 
 tenccs, paternal foridnefs, filial duty, 
 generous friend (hip, and particularly 
 the delicacy and tendernefs of lovers' 
 fentiments,are equally proper to poetry 
 in Comedy as in Tragedy. ---- *Such 
 poetick excellence, therefore, will the 
 " reader find in the genteel part of our 
 " Authors' Comedies; and there is a 
 " poetick ftile often equally proper and 
 " excellent even in the loweft drollery 
 " of Comedy." 
 
 Inftancesof the truth andjuftice of 
 thefe obfervations might be produced 
 without number from the authors above 
 mentioned; and perhaps the unnatural 
 ftiffhefs of the modern tragiek ftile is in 
 great meafure owing to the almoft total 
 exclufion of Blank Verfe from modern 
 compofitions, Tragedy excepted. The 
 common ufe of an elevated diction in 
 
 * Page 43- 
 
 VOL. I. b Co-
 
 xviii PREFACE. 
 Comedy, where the writer was often, of 
 neceffity, put upon expreffing the moft 
 ordinary matters, and where the fubjecl: 
 demanded him to paint the moft fami- 
 liar and ridiculous emotions of the mind, 
 was perhaps one of the chief caufes of 
 that eafy vigour fb conlpicuous in the 
 ftile of our old tragedies. Habituated 
 toPoetical Dialogue in thofe compositions, 
 wherein they were obliged to adhere 
 more ftridly to the Simplicity of the 
 language of nature, the poets learned, in 
 thofe of a more exalted fpecies, not to 
 depart from it too wantonly, nor en- 
 tirely to abandon that magnificent plain- 
 nefs, which is the genuine drefs of true 
 paffion and poetry. The Greek Tra- 
 gedy, as has been before obferved, quit- 
 ted the Tetrameter for the natural lam- 
 bick. Juft the contrary happened on 
 our own ilage, when Dryden and the co- 
 
 tem-
 
 PREFACE. xix 
 
 temporary poets, authors of thofe ftrange 
 produ&ions called Heroick Tragedies, 
 introduced rhime in the place of Blank 
 Verfe, aflerting that the latter was no- 
 thing more than meafured profe ; which, 
 by the bye, exactly agrees with Horace's 
 character of the irregular iambick of 
 the Roman Comedy, 
 
 niji quod pede certo 
 Dijfert fermoni, fermo merus. 
 
 Thefe, and the like confederations, 
 had long appeared to me as the invincible 
 reafons, why all attempts to render the 
 comedies of the Antients into downright 
 profe muft prove, as they ever have 
 proved, unfuccefsful ; and imagining that 
 we had in our own language the models 
 of a proper diction, I was led to attempt 
 a verilon of one of Terence's plays in 
 familiar Blank Verfe, fomething after the 
 manner of our Old Writers, but by no 
 b 2 means
 
 xx PREFACE* 
 
 means profefling or intending a direct 
 imitation of them. This firft eflay, con- 
 fcious of its crudenefs and inaccuracy, 
 but dubious whether it was worth while 
 to endeavour to give it a higher polifti, I 
 communicated to a few friends; whofe 
 partiality to that effort encouraged me 
 to proceed, and I found myfelf ferioufly 
 engaged, almoft before I was aware, in a 
 tranflation of all our Author's pieces. 
 How I have acquitted myfelf of this very 
 hard tafk muft now be fubmitted to the 
 Publick : but if I have failed in the un- 
 dertaking, I will venture to fay, that my 
 ill fuccefs is entirely owing to the lame- 
 nefs of the execution of a plan, which 
 may be perfued more happily by fome 
 better writer. 
 
 Thus much, however, it was thought 
 neceflary to premife, not only by way of 
 reflection on our Englifli Blank Verfe, 
 
 but
 
 PREFACE. xxi 
 
 but that the reader might not expect an 
 attempt at a different kind of poetry, 
 than I have endeavoured to fet before 
 him in the following tranflation. There 
 are indeed fcenes of Terence that require 
 all the graces of poetry to give a tolerable 
 verfion of them ; but it has been * ob- 
 ferved to be his peculiar excellence, that 
 his plays have fo admirably preferved the 
 due character of Comedy, that they 
 never rife to the fublime of Tragedy, 
 nor fink into the meannefs of Farce ; and 
 Madam Dacier has remarked with what 
 addrefs he has accommodated the fenti- 
 ments of Euripides to the ufe of Comedy. 
 The fcenes here alluded to are much of 
 the fame colour with many in our old 
 writers : wherefore I am the more fur- 
 
 * Illud quoque inter Te- neque abjiciantur ad mimi- 
 
 rentianas virtutes mirabile, cam vilitatem. 
 
 quod ej us fabulae eo funt tern- EVANTHIUS de Tragoedia 
 
 peramento,ut neque extumef- . &f Comeedia. 
 caiuadtragicamcelfitudinem, 
 
 b 3 prized
 
 xxii PREFACE, 
 
 prized that Mr. Seward, in his Preface 
 above-cited, while he gives fo jufl an 
 account of the diclion ufed in the old 
 comedies of our own theatre, fhould yet 
 fpeak fo unadvifedly of the ftile of the 
 Greek and Roman Drama, as to fay, 
 that * " even the fublimeft fentiments 
 " of Terence, when his Comedy raifes 
 " its voice to the greateft dignity, are 
 " ftillnot cloathed in poetick diction. "-- 
 And again, " that the Greeks appro- 
 " priated the fpirit and nerves of poetry 
 " to Tragedy only, and though they did 
 " not wholly deprive Comedy of metre, 
 " they left it not the iliadow of poetick 
 " didion." That learned and elegant 
 Critick, Mr. Jofeph Warton, who was 
 the rirft that gave in Englifh any of the 
 fragments of Menander, when he apolo- 
 gizes for the translation, -f " remember- 
 cc ing always how much his elegance is 
 
 * Page 37, and 38. t Adventurer, No. 105
 
 PREFACE. xxiii 
 " injured by a plain profai'c tranflation," 
 was, it is evident, of a very different opi- 
 nion: andGravina* mentions it as a 
 wonderful quality of the meafure in the 
 antient Tragedy and Comedy, that while 
 it poffefies all the dignity of Verfe, it has 
 all the eafe and familiarity of Profe. 
 
 But not only the opinion of many in- 
 genious men among the moderns, as well 
 as the living teftimony of the plays them- 
 felves, but alfo the exprefs authority of 
 the antient Criticks abfolutely contra- 
 dicts the affertion of Mr. Seward. We 
 are told by Quintilian, thatMenander,f 
 though he cultivated a different province 
 of the drama, was a great admirer and 
 imitator of Euripides, which accounts 
 for the fentiments of that Tragick Poet 
 ftill to be met with in the comedies of 
 Terence. The fame critick alfo fpeaks 
 
 * Delia Tragedia, p. 59. f Inft, Orator. Lib. x.cap, j. 
 
 b 4 of
 
 xxiv PREFACE, 
 of the force and grandeur, as well as ele- 
 gance, * of the ftile in the Old Comedy ; 
 and Horace, even in the paflage where he 
 doubts whether a Comedy is to be e- 
 teemed a Poem, on account of the fa-r 
 miliarity of the ftile, immediately fub-r 
 joins, At pater ardens ftevit^ &c. And 
 in another place he has dire&ly delivered 
 his opinion, how far the Tragick and 
 Comick Mufe may reciprocally afiume 
 each other's tone. 
 
 Verfibus exponi tragicis res comica non vult 3 
 Indignatur item privatis ac prope focco 
 Dignis carminibus narrari coena Thyeftag. 
 
 * Antiqua Comcedia cum milior fit oratoribus, aut ad, 
 
 finceram illam fermonis At- oratores faciendos aptior. 
 
 ticigratlam prope fola retinet, Quin&ilian. Inft. Orator, 
 
 turn facundiffimse libertatis, Lib. x. cap. j. 
 
 etfi eft in infeiandis vitiis Sua cuique propofita lex, 
 
 jyaecipua, plurimum tamcn fqus cuique decor eft.Nec co- 
 
 virlum etiani in caeteris parti- mcedia in cothurnos affurgit, 
 
 bus habet. Nam & grandis^ nee contra tragoedia focco in- 
 
 ft clegans, & vcnufta, & ne- greditur. Habet tamen omnis 
 
 fcio an ulla, port Homerum eltquentia aliquld commune. 
 
 tamen, quem, ut Achillem, Ibid. cap. 2. 
 tcnjper ex'cipi par eft, aut fi- 
 
 Singula :
 
 PREFACE. xx* 
 
 Singula quasque locum teneant fortita decentcr. 
 Interdum tarn en et vocem Comcedia tollit, 
 Iratufque Chremes tumido delitigat ore ; 
 Et tragicus plerumque dolet fermone pedeftri. * 
 
 To thefe lines I (hall fubjoin Old- 
 ham's unpolifhed imitation, bccaufe it 
 brings them home to our own ftage; and 
 I would recommend it to the reader, 
 who is curious to fee any thing further 
 on this fubjedt, to perufe Dacier's notes 
 on this paffage in the original, 
 
 Volpone and Morofe will not admit 
 Of Catiline's high {trains, nor is it fit 
 To make Sejanus on the ftage appear 
 In the low drefs which Comick perfons wear; 
 Whate'er the fubjedl be on which you write, 
 Give each thing its due place and time aright. 
 Yet Comedy fometimes may raife her ftile, 
 And angry Chremes is allow'd to fwell ; 
 And Tragedy alike has fometimes leave 
 To throw off majefty when 'tis to grieve. 
 
 OLDHAM. 
 
 * Hor. Art. Poet. 
 
 IfliaH
 
 xxvi PREFACE. 
 
 I (hall conclude what I have to fay, 
 on the propriety of tranflating the Ro- 
 man Comick Poets into Englifli Blank 
 Verfe, by obferving to what advantage 
 many of the fentiments of Terence and 
 Plautus have already appeared in that 
 drefs in the plays of our old writers. 
 Jonfon, according to the juft and ele- 
 gant obfervation of Dry den, may often 
 be tracked in their fnow ; and in the 
 notes to this tranflation the reader will 
 meet with many paflages fimilar to thofe 
 in our Author from Shakefpeare. A 
 moft learned and acute critick has ob- 
 ferved, that " we feldom are able to 
 " faften an imitation, with certainty, 
 " on fuch a writer as Shakefpeare ;" 
 bccaufe " he takes nothing but the 
 " fentiment ; the expreffion comes of it- 
 " felf,and is purely Englifh."t I have 
 
 * HURD on ike Marks of Imitatiw, p. 19. 
 . f Ibid. p. 75. 
 
 there-
 
 PREFACE. xxvii 
 
 therefore given the pafiages in queftion 
 merely as refemblances^ leaving the reader 
 to make his own comment on them. 
 
 Befides the refemblance of particular 
 paflages, fcattered up and down in dif- 
 ferent plays, it is well known that the 
 whole Comedy of Errors is in great mea- 
 fure founded on the_Menaechmi of Plau- 
 tus ; but I do not recoiled: ever to have 
 feen it obferved that the difguife of the 
 Pedant in the Taming of the Shrew, his 
 afiuming the name and character of 
 Vincentio, together with his encounter- 
 ing the real Vincentio, feem to be evi^ 
 dently taken from the difguife of the 
 Sycophanta in the Trinummus of the 
 fame author; and there is a quotation 
 from the Eunuch of Terence alfo, fo fa- 
 miliarly introduced into the dialogue of 
 the Taming of the Shrew, that I think it 
 puts the queftion of Shakefpeare's hav- 
 ing
 
 xxviii PREFACE. 
 
 ing read the Roman Comick Poets in 
 the original language out of all doubt. 
 
 o. Mailer, it is no time to chide you nowj 
 Affection is not rated from the heart. 
 If love hath touch'd you, nought remains but fo, 
 * Redime te caftum quam queas minimo. 
 
 Taming of the Shrew, Aft I. 
 
 I do not think it incumbent on me in 
 this place, according to the cuftom of 
 moft editors and tranflators, to write a 
 panegyrick on my Author; much lefs 
 {hall I attempt to draw a comparifon in 
 his favour between Him and Plautus ; 
 though I cannot help obferving, that the 
 common-place of modern criticifm on 
 thefe writers is, in general, very different 
 from that of the Antients. We now ex- 
 
 * It is remarkable that this here does not run exactly in 
 
 feems to be a quotation from the words of Terence, which 
 
 memory, or that the phrafe are thefe : Quid agas ? nift 
 
 is purpofely altered by Shake- ut te~ redimas captum quam 
 
 fpeare, in order to bring the queas minimo. 
 fenfe within the compafs of Eunuch. A&. I. Seen. j. 
 one line j for the pafiago 
 
 tol
 
 PREFACE. xxix 
 
 tol Plautus for his humour, and Terence 
 for his ftile ; and on this foundation is 
 raifed the comparifon between them, fo 
 injurious to our author, in the lixth book 
 of the Poeticks of Scaliger. Varro, on 
 the contrary, gives the preference to the 
 ftile of Plautus, which he confiders as 
 the language of the Mufes themfelves ; 
 and afiigns the juft delineation of cha- 
 raclers as the peculiar excellence of Te- 
 rence j who, in the time of Auguftus, 
 was equally admired for the artful con- 
 texture and judicious conduclof his plots. 
 Casfar and Tully, and Quintilian, have 
 indeed fpoken with juftice of the ele- 
 gance and purity of his ftile 5 but the ex- 
 cellencies of the fable and the manners 
 are prior to thofe of the di&ion ; and as 
 they are the chief beauties of Comedy, 
 fo are they the diftinguifliing charac- 
 terifticks of Terence. 
 
 In
 
 xxx PREFACE. 
 
 In my opinion, the jufteft objection 
 ever made to his plays is the * fimilari- 
 ty of the plots, which neceffarily pro- 
 duces a fimilarity of ftile and charac- 
 ters ; nor can it be fufficiently lamented 
 that a writer, who was fo accurate a 
 painter of the manners, and fo judicious 
 a conductor of the fable, as well as fo 
 exquifite in his language, fhould not 
 have given full fcope to his genius, 
 and taken in a greater variety of per- 
 fonages, and been more ftudious to 
 diverfify the incidents of his feveral co- 
 medies. 
 
 For more particular obfervations on 
 our Poet, the reader is referred to the 
 Notes on the feveral plays. As for the 
 
 * Hac fane parte [fcilicet In Terentio vero magnopere 
 
 vi comica] videtur fuperior conveniunt argumenta fabu- 
 
 Plautus j uti & varictate turn larum: & quando de eadem 
 
 argumentorum,tumdiftionis. re, aut fimili eft fermo, pluri- 
 
 Nam Plautus fempcr ftudet mum nee abfimilis eft didio. 
 
 efle novus, fuique diffimilis ; Vossius, //?. Poet. Lib. ii. 
 
 feu ran fpedtes, feu verba. cap.2$.feft.5. 
 
 i Notes
 
 PREFACE. xxxt 
 
 Notes themfelves, many of them, being 
 taken from the beft criticks and com- 
 mentators, antient and modern, living 
 and dead, natives and foreigners, will, 
 I know, be allowed to have merit; many 
 others being entirely my own, are as 
 liable to cenfure as the tranflation itfelf ; 
 efpecially thofe, wherein I have ven- 
 tured to oppofe the judgments of others; 
 though I can fafely fay that I have never 
 attempted to litigate any opinion, mere- 
 ly from a petulant fpirit of contradic- 
 tion, or an ambition of novelty. It is 
 the duty of an editor and tranflator to il- 
 luftrate and explain the author, to the 
 beft of his abilities ; and if he differs from 
 former criticks, he fhould give his rea- 
 fons for his diffent, and leave it to the 
 Publick to decide. He too, it is true, 
 may be deceived in his turn ; for as the 
 critick is as often wrong as the author 
 on whom he comments, or if we may 
 
 take
 
 PREFACE, 
 take a poet's word on this occafiorij 
 Ten cenfure wrong for one who writes amifs,* 
 
 fo is the Hypercritick as fallible as 
 the Critick. But each man's under- 
 ftanding, fuch as it is, muft be his guide ; 
 and he, who has not courage to make 
 a free ufe of it, but obtrudes the opini- 
 ons of others, unlifted and unexamined, 
 on his readers, betrays more want of re- 
 fpecl: for their underftanding, than dif- 
 fidence of his own. 
 
 It was my firft intention to have ac- 
 companied this tranflation with a Difler- 
 tation on Comedy, hoping it might 
 have appeared an agreeable addition to 
 the work ; but on weighing this mat- 
 ter ferioufly, and turning it over and 
 over in my thoughts, I found the fubjecl: 
 grow upon me fo confiderably, as it 
 opened itfelf to my mind, that the per- 
 
 * Pope's Eflay on Crit. 
 
 fuit
 
 PREFACE. xxxiii 
 
 fuitof it would have unavoidably be- 
 trayed me into another volume ; fo that 
 what I meant for the advantage of the 
 Reader, like the Bonus in a Government - 
 Subfcription, would in fact have proved 
 a heavy tax. The work has already ex- 
 ceeded the limits, which I propofed to 
 myfelf at firft fetting out. I did not, 
 therefore, think it jufticc to the pur- 
 chafers to fvvell the price ftill more ; 
 and to have given the difiertation, 
 maimed or incomplete, would have been 
 injuftice to them, as well as to myfelf. 
 Whenever it fees the light, it fhall be as 
 perfect as I am able to make it. In the 
 mean time, every thing relative to the 
 Comedies of Terence, critical as well as 
 explanatory, will, I hope, be 'found in 
 the Notes. I have with much induftry 
 endeavoured to collect from all quarters, 
 fometimes perhaps too minutely, what- 
 VOL. J, c ever
 
 xxxiv PREFACE. 
 
 ever could contribute to throw any light 
 on our Author; and there is prefixed a 
 translation of the account of his life from 
 Suetonius : with which, as well as the 
 notes annexed to it from Madam Dacier, 
 together with a translation of all that 
 learned lady's remarks on the four laft 
 plays, I was favoured by Dr. Ralph 
 Schomberg of Bath : nor can I otherwife 
 account for his great kindnefs in volun- 
 tarily offering to take fo toilfome and dif- 
 agreeable part of my tafk off my hands, 
 but that he wasrefolved that there fhould 
 be none of his family, to whom I Should 
 not owe fome obligation. 
 
 The order in which the Six Comedies 
 are placed in this translation, although 
 the fame that is obferved in moft editions 
 and manufcripts, is not according to the 
 real feries in which they were written 
 and exhibited byTer^p&ce: they Succeeded 
 
 each
 
 PREFACE. xxxv 
 
 each other in the original courfe of re- 
 prefentation at Rome as follows. 
 
 1. The Andrian, 
 
 2. The Step-Mother, 
 
 3. The Self-Tormentor, 
 
 4. The Eunuch, 
 
 5. Phormio, 
 
 6. The Brothers. 
 
 Madam Dacier endeavouring to afflgn 
 the motives that induced the moft anti- 
 ent editors and tranfcribers to that ai- 
 rangement of the plays in which we now 
 fee them, in preference to the true chro- 
 nological order, imagines it beyond a 
 doubt, that they were influenced by the 
 judgement of Volcatius Sedigitus; who, 
 fhe fuppofes, had ranked every dramatick 
 piece, as well as every author, accord- 
 ing to his opinion of their merit ; and 
 who placed the Step-Mother the laft of 
 our Author's Six P$ays. 
 
 c 2 Sumctur
 
 xxxvi P R E F A C E, 
 
 Sumetur Hecyra fexta ex hisfabula. 
 The Step-Mother, 
 The laft and leail in merit of the Six. 
 
 Agreeably to this notion, fhe places 
 the Step-Mother the laft in her collec- 
 tion, which has induced her followers to 
 do the fame thing : but the truth is, that 
 in moft copies, the Step-Mother ftands 
 the fifth, fo that in all probability, as 
 little refpecl was paid to the judgement 
 of Volcatius concerning the refpe&ive 
 merit of our author's feveral pieces, if 
 indeed he decided on them all, as to his 
 injudicious decifion of the rank due to 
 him among the Comick Poets. 
 
 The old compilers had, I doubt not, 
 a reafon for the order in which they 
 placed thefe comedies: it is impoffible 
 to fpeak with any confidence on fo dark 
 a point at this diftance of time; but after 
 a lenger inveftigation of this matter 
 
 than
 
 PREFACE. xxxvii 
 
 than perhaps fuch a trifle required, it 
 appeared to me the moft plaufible, as 
 well as moft fimple manner of account- 
 ing for it, to fuppofe that, in regard to 
 the original authors from which the co- 
 medies were taken, the principal inten- 
 tion of the firft compilers was merely to 
 keep together all the pieces imitated 
 from the fame Greek poet. According- 
 ly, the four firft plays, The Andrian, 
 Eunuch, Self-Tormentor, and Brothers, 
 are from Menander; and the two laft, 
 the Step-Mother and Phormio, from 
 Apollodorus : allowing for this varia- 
 tion, they are ranged, as nearly as may 
 be, according to the true order in which 
 they appeared ; for I take it for granted, 
 that the Eunuch is placed the fecond, 
 that the Self- Tor mentor might not be 
 forced out of its right place ; fince in the 
 prefent arrangement the Self-Tormentor 
 c 3 and
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 and the Andrian ftill precifely occupy 
 their original rank. This however is 
 fubmitted merely as conje&ure ; but it 
 is remarkable, that however books differ 
 in other refpe&s, they all concur in giving 
 the firft place to the Andrian ; though 
 it would be difficult for the niceft cri- 
 tick to affign the reafons why it ought, 
 in point of merit, to take the lead of 
 the Eunuch, or why either of the two 
 fhould precede the Self-Tormentor, It 
 fhould feem therefore, that the chrono- 
 logical order was attended to by the old 
 tranfcribers, as far as it could be recon- 
 ciled to the plan on which they pro- 
 ceeded. 
 
 Before I conclude this Preface, it is 
 neceffary to fpeak of two or three cir- 
 cumftances peculiar to thefe Comedies. 
 Firft then, the Englifh reader is defired 
 to obferve, that the manners, prevailing 
 
 in
 
 PREFACE. xxxix 
 in them all, are wholly Grecian. The 
 fcene is always laid in or near Athens, the 
 a&ors were drefled in Graecian habits, 
 fuitable to their refpective characters ; 
 and the cuftoms, coins, 6cc. occafionally 
 mentioned, fuch as were ufed in Greece. 
 Terence, who imitated, rather than * 
 translated Menander, chofe however to 
 prefer ve the fcenery and manners of his 
 original. The direft tranjlator of Terence 
 therefore has certainly no right to mo- 
 dernize his comedies, and inftead of 
 Grecian manners to fubftitute the French, 
 Englifli, or Italian. Yet this hath been 
 the method perfued by moft profefled 
 
 * The ingenious Author him,that the prologues of Te- 
 
 of a commentary and notes rence point out Tome capital 
 
 on Horace's Arc of Poetry af- variations from the Greek, 
 
 ferts, p. 193. that " fome of and the learned C'ritick him- 
 
 " Terence's plays are dirett felf has on other occafions 
 
 " tranjlations from Menan- taken notice of thofevanati- 
 
 * e der." This could proceed ons. The old commentators 
 
 from nothing but mere inad- have taken notice of many 
 
 vertence, fince the flighteft others, as will appear in the 
 
 yefleclionmuft have convinced notes to this translation. 
 
 c 4 tranf-
 
 s l PREFACE. 
 
 translators, though neceflarily productive 
 of two great inconveniencies : for firft, 
 it deprives the modern reader of the plea- 
 fure of directly comparing the manners 
 and cuftoms of another age and country 
 with thofe of his own; and fecondly, the 
 ground of the play, the fable, characters, 
 fentiments, and language, ftill retaining 
 the antient caft, the refult of this mo- 
 dernizing fpirit is a fantaftical medley, 
 which reprefents the manners of no age 
 or country at all. 
 
 Notwithstanding the acknowledged 
 chaftity of Terence, there are many things 
 in thefe plays irreconcilable to modern 
 notions of delicacy ; and there is, even in 
 his dialogue, fo juftly efteemed for its 
 urbanity, many violations of the modern 
 rules of politenefs. " The influence of 
 " modern manners (fays an excellent 
 ^ writer) reaches even to names and the 
 4 " or-
 
 PREFACE. xli 
 
 " ordinary forms of addrefs. In the Greek 
 " and Roman Dialogues, it was per- 
 " mitted to accoft the greateft perfons 
 " by their obvious and familiar appella- 
 " tions. Alcibiades had no more addl- 
 " tion than Socrates: and Brutus and 
 <c Caefar loft nothing of their dignity from 
 " being applied to in thofe direct terms. 
 " The Moderns, on the contrary, have 
 cc their guards and fences about them ; 
 " and we hold it an incivility to approach 
 " them without fome decent periphrafis, 
 " or ceremonial title."* Many inftances 
 of this antient familiarity will occur in 
 thefe comedies; and though I have fome- 
 times rendered the here or hera of the 
 original by the terms of Sir or Madam, 
 yet the reader will commonly find the 
 meaneftflaveaccofting his mafter or mif- 
 trefs by their plain names without any 
 more refpedful addition. 
 
 * Preface to Moral and Political Dialogues, by the Rev. 
 Mr. Kurd. The
 
 xlii PREFACE. 
 
 The feveral allufions to antient cuf- 
 toms are explained, as occafion requires; 
 and the value of the coins is taken no- 
 tice of the two or three firft times that 
 each fpecies is mentioned : but as there 
 is not one of the plays, wherein moft of 
 them do not very frequently occur, I 
 have thought proper to infert in this 
 place Cooke's Table of Attick Money > 
 to be referred to at pleafure. 
 
 d Talk of Sums in AttickMoney, with tkeirProftortiontoEngli&Maney. 
 
 OBOLI. 1. s. d. 
 
 j .... oo oo 01 
 
 <---- 00 00 02 
 
 3 .... oo oo 03 
 
 4 .... oo oo 05 
 
 5 - - - - co oo 06 
 
 6 equal to aDrachmaoo oo 07 
 
 DRACHMAE. 
 
 l - - - - oo co 07 
 
 10 - .-- oo 06 05 
 
 loo equal to a Mina 03 04 07 
 
 M I N AE. 
 
 i ... - 03 04 07 
 
 10 -.- - 3* 05 10 
 
 MINAE. 1. $. d. 
 
 20 - - - 64 II 08 
 
 60 equal to a Talent 193 15 oo 
 
 T A L E N T A. 
 
 i 193 15 co 
 
 5 968 15 oo 
 
 10 1937 10 oo 
 
 15 2906 05 oo 
 
 ao 3875 oo oo 
 
 ioo - - 19375 oo oo 
 
 Terence mentions the Half Mina i 
 his Adclphi, which was a fingle coi 
 in proportion to - 01 iz 03 
 
 The Obolus was brafs, the reft were 
 filver. 
 
 On the whole it will appear that it has 
 
 been my chief ftudy to exhibit Terence 
 
 as nearly as poffible in the fame drefs in 
 
 3 which
 
 PREFACE. 1iii 
 
 which he appeared at Rome; hoping 
 that the learned reader may recognize 
 his old acquaintance, and that I may be 
 able to introduce to the unlearned, one 
 fo well worth his knowledge. I have 
 tried, however the difficulty of the at- 
 tempt may have baffled my endeavours, 
 to catch the manner ', as well as features, 
 of my original. Some perhaps may think 
 that, having once abandoned profe, I might 
 have given ftill freer fcope to my imagi- 
 nation, and have introduced moreftrokes 
 of poetry : but fuch criticks muft have 
 very little considered the concife purity 
 of Terence, the difficulty of preferving 
 that proprietas verborum for which he 
 is fo remarkable, the namelefs force even 
 of adverbs and particles in his ftile, and 
 how dangerous it would be to attempt 
 any additions or flourifhes on his dialogue. 
 I meant a direcl: tranflation, not a loofe 
 
 imitation
 
 xliv PREFACE. 
 
 imitation ; and perhaps this verfion will 
 be found in moft inftances to be more 
 literal than the profe tranflations. The 
 peculiar felicity of the mode I had em- 
 braced often gave me an opportunity of 
 following the Author, without ftiffnefs, 
 in the arrangement of his words and fen- 
 tences, and even of indulging myfelf, 
 without affectation, in the elleipfes, fo 
 frequent in his ftile. In a word, if this 
 verfion fhall be allowed to have any 
 merit, it is entirely owing to the ftrict 
 adherence to the original. 
 
 The other circumftances neceffary to 
 be mentioned, for the better illuftration 
 of thefe Comedies, are chiefly relative to 
 the reprefentation. <c Some (fays Echard) 
 " object, that in the beginning of many 
 " fcenes, two actors enter the ftage, and 
 " talk to themfelves a considerable time 
 " before they fee or know one another ; 
 
 " which,
 
 PREFACE. xlv 
 
 " which, fay they, is neither probable 
 " nor natural. They, that object this, 
 " do not consider the difference betwixt 
 " our fmall fcanty ftage and the large 
 magnificent Roman Theatres : their 
 ftage was fixty yards wide in front ; 
 their fcenes fo many ftreets meeting 
 " together, with by-lanes, rows, and 
 " alleys, fo that two actors coming down 
 " two diftinct ftreets or lanes, could not 
 " be feen by each other, though the fpec- 
 " tators might fee both; and fometimes 
 " if they did fee each other, they 
 could not well diftinguifti faces at 
 fixty yards diftance. Befides, on feve- 
 ral accounts, it might well be fuppofed, 
 when an actor enters the ftage, out of 
 fome houfe, he might take a turn or 
 two under the porticoes, ufual at that 
 " time, about his door, and not obferve 
 
 " an-
 
 xfvi PREFACE. 
 
 " another a&or on the other fide of the 
 
 ftage." * 
 
 To make the a&ion and bufinefs of the 
 play ftill clearer, as well as to prefent the 
 reader with fome image of its effect in 
 the reprefentation, I have all along fub- 
 joined, according to the modern manner, 
 marginal notes of direction. For this 
 practice I have, in the proper place, given 
 the reafons at large from an ingenious 
 French Writer. It may be faid indeed 
 that a dramatick author fhould fo frame 
 his dialogue, as to make it evident by 
 whom every part of it is fpoken, to whom 
 each fpeech is addreffed, and the pro- 
 bable tone, gefture, and action aflumed 
 by the fpeaker. Allowing this to be 
 ftrictly true, and always practicable, which 
 is however a very doubtful point, I have 
 annext no directions of that fort, which 
 
 * Preface to Terence, p. 10. 
 
 may
 
 PREFACE. xlvii 
 may not be collected by an attentive 
 reader from the text itfelf ; and they who 
 objedt to the ufe of thefe little curfory 
 elucidations of the written or printed 
 drama, might as well cenfure the pre- 
 fixing the names of the particular cha- 
 racter to the feveral fpeeches. Thefe 
 familiar direcl:ions,as they are the fhorteft, 
 fo are they the cleareft interpreters of the 
 conduct of the fcene ; and the want of 
 them in the original text has on many 
 occafions put the commentators to the 
 expence of a very long note to explain, 
 what the reader is thus made acquainted 
 with, often by a fingle word. 
 
 As to the habits of the a&ors, it is 
 plain from Donatus, as well as the reafon 
 of the thing, that they were in general 
 fuited, according to the cuftom of 
 the times and country, to the fex, age, 
 and condition of the feveral characters. 
 
 Some
 
 xlviii PREFACE. 
 
 Some particulars, however, in their drefs 
 very effentially diftinguifh the antient 
 players from thofe on any modern ftage, 
 viz. the Bufkin, the Sock, and the Maflc. 
 The Bufkin was a kind of high- heeled 
 'boot, worn only by the Tragedians ; as 
 the Sock was a fort of fandai peculiar to 
 the actors in Comedy. Every player 
 wore a Mafk; of which the reader may 
 form a better idea from the plates pre- 
 fixed to each play, (which, as well as the 
 Frontifpiece, are faithfully engraved after 
 the cuts in the Vatican Terence) than 
 from any verbal defcription. It is plain, 
 as Madam Dacier obferves, that it 
 was not like the modern Mafk, which 
 covers only the face; but enclofed the 
 whole head, and had falfe hair faftened 
 to it, agreeable to the vifage and com- 
 pletion of the fore part. The Mafk 
 was called perform, from p erf on are, to 
 
 found
 
 PREFACE. X n* 
 
 found through, being fo formed as to 
 enlarge the voice, and convey it to a 
 greater diftance ; a contrivance, which 
 the vaft extent of the antient theatres 
 rendered extremely neceffary. For the 
 fame reafons the features, pourtrayed on 
 the vifor,were fo much aggravated beyond 
 the proportion of thofe drawn by the 1 
 hand of Nature. It muft be confefled, 
 that in thefe inftances the Moderns have 
 infinitely the advantage; and that by 
 contracting the dimeniions of their 
 theatres, although they have a good deal 
 abated the magnificence of the fpectacle, 
 they have been able to approach much 
 nearer to the truth and Simplicity of 
 theatrical reprefentation. 
 
 The Antient Drama was indeed, as a 
 fpedacle, extremely different from the 
 Modern; and, on the ftage, approach- 
 ing nearer to the genius of our Opera, 
 VOL, I. d than
 
 I PREFACE. 
 
 than Tragedy or Comedy; which cn> 
 cumftance, if duly confidered, might 
 have prevented a deal of idle difputation 
 concerning the propriety of a Chorus. 
 The antient plays, it is certain, were all 
 accompanied with Mulick; Ariftotle 
 mentions Mufick as one of the fix parts 
 of Tragedy ; and we know from Horacej 
 that the alterations in the Drama, Mu- 
 fick, and Decorations, kept pace with 
 each other, and that in procefs of time, 
 as the Roman Theatres were enlarged, 
 their Mulick alfo became more rich and 
 full. 
 
 Tibia non, ut nunc, orichalco vindla, tubseque 
 Emilia $ fed tenuis, fimplexque foramine pauco 
 Adfpirare & adefle choris erat utilis, atque 
 Nondum fpifla nimis complere fedilia flatu : 
 Quo fane populus numerabilis, utpote parvus, 
 Et frugi caftufque verecundufque coibat. 
 Poflquam ccEpit agros extendere vidor, 6c urbem 
 Latior ample<5li murus, vinoque diurno 
 
 Placari Genius feftis impune diebus, 
 
 Accefllt
 
 PREFACE. H 
 
 Acceffit numerifque modifque licentia major. 
 Indoctus quid enim faperet, liberque laborum, 
 Rufticus urbano confufus, turpis honefto ? 
 Sic prifcae motumque & luxuriem addidit arti 
 Tibicen, traxitque vagus per pulpita veftem : 
 Sic etiam Fidibus voces crevere feveris, 
 Et tulit eloquium infolitum facundia prasceps ; 
 Utiliumque fagax rerum, ac divina futuri 
 Sortilegis non difcrepuit fententia Delphis.* 
 
 Nor was the Flute at firft with filver bound, 
 
 Nor rival'd emulous the trumpet's found : 
 
 Few were its notes, its form was fimply plain ; 
 
 Yet not unufeful was its feeble flrain 
 
 To aid the Chorus, and their fongs to raife : 
 
 Filling the little theatre with eafe : 
 
 To which a thin and pious audience came, 
 
 Of frugal manners, and unfullied fame. 
 
 But when victorious Rome enlarg'd her ftate, 
 And broader walls enclos'd th' imperial feat, 
 Soon as with wine, grown diflblutely gay, 
 Without reftraint (lie chear'd the feftal day, 
 Then Poefy in ioofer numbers mov'd, 
 And Mufick in licentious tones improv'd : 
 
 * Hor. Art. Poet. 
 
 d 2 Such
 
 lii PREFACE, 
 
 Such ever is the tafte when clown and wit, 
 Ruftick and critick, fill the crouded pit. 
 
 He who before with modeft art had play'd, 
 Now eall'd in wanton movements to his aid, 
 Fill'd with luxurious tones the pleafing drain, 
 And drew along the ftage a length of train : 
 And thus the Lyre, once awfully fevere, 
 Increas'd the firings, and fweeter charm'd the ear > 
 Thus Poetry precipitately flow'd, 
 And with unwonted elocution glow'd 5 
 Pour'd forth prophetick truth in awful ftrain, 
 
 Dark as the language of the Delphick Fane. 
 
 * 
 
 FRANCIS* 
 
 t 
 In the above lines the two principal 
 
 inftruments in ufe on .the theatre are 
 mentioned, viz. Ttfo'a, the Flute, and 
 Fides, the Lyre. On fo obfcure a part 
 of learning many doubts rnuft neceflari- 
 ly have arifen; but the moft probable 
 opinion feems to be that the Flute was 
 employed to accompany the declamation 
 or recitative, and the Lyre was peculiar 
 
 to the Chorus: whence it happens that 
 
 rr.- T rr 
 
 in 

 
 PREFACE. iiii 
 
 in the plays of Terence, as appears from 
 the titles, only the Flutes were ufed ; 
 the Chorus, which made a part of the 
 Old Comedy, as well as Tragedy, not 
 being admitted into the New. The Co- 
 mick Mufick was certainly much more 
 familiar than the Tragickj and on com-r 
 paring the federal authorities on this fub-r 
 Jed, it feems probable that the fcenick 
 modulation, as Quintilian calls it, in 
 Comedy, was a kind of eafy chant, cal- 
 culated to a/lift the a&ors in the decla^ 
 mation, and to throw out the voice with 
 force, in order to fill their ample 
 theatres. Indeed the fame critick ex- 
 prefsly tells us, that the declamation of 
 the comick actors was nothing more than 
 adding a certain theatrical grace to the 
 manner of common converfation ; no 
 falling entirely into the eafe of ordinary 
 difcourfe, which would be inartificial, 
 d 3 nor
 
 liv PREFACE. 
 
 nor departing fofar from nature, as to lofe 
 the excellence of imitation. * 
 
 The Englifh reader will find, in the 
 titles to thefe comedies, fome expreffions 
 relative to the Mufick, that may perhaps 
 appear to him rather ftrange and un- 
 couth; fuch as Flutes Equal or Un- 
 equal, Right or Left-handed; but 
 
 they are the only words that could be 
 ufed with any propriety to tranflate the 
 original names of the inftruments ; and 
 yet even thofe words, uncouth as they 
 are, are not intelligible without fome fur- 
 ther explanation; andto mend the matter, 
 that further explanation is fo difficult to 
 be obtained, that the learned Le Fevre 
 wrote a moll elegant copy of Latin 
 
 * A&ores Comici nee ita periret imitatio : fed morcm 
 prorfus, ut nos vulgo loqui- communis hujusfermonis de- 
 mur, pronuntiant, quod eflet corequodamfcenicoexornant. 
 finearte: nee procul tamen QUINTIL. Injl, Orat. lib. ij. 
 a natura recedunt, quo vitio cap. 10. 
 
 Verfes,
 
 PREFACE. iv 
 
 Verfes, execrating the Flute, and all the 
 commentators on it. 
 
 The fhort account fromDonatus, which 
 I have fubjoined to the title to the An- 
 drian, {hews that the Right-handed 
 Flutes were the proper accompaniments 
 to comedies of a graver caft, and the 
 Left-handed to thofe of more pleafantry. 
 Montfaucon * obferves, that the Flute 
 took its original name Tibia, from being 
 antiently made of the leg of fome animal, 
 as a horfe, a dog, &c. -f He feems at a 
 lofs to conceive how a double flute could 
 
 * MONTFAUCON, Tome conceit in one of the Fables 
 gme parte 2de. p. 342. ofPhaedrus on a minftrel's 
 
 breaking his leg. 
 t This is the ground of a 
 
 Princeps Tibicen notior paulo fuit, 
 Operam Bathyllo folitus in fcena dare. 
 Is forte ludis (non fads memini quibus) 
 Dum pegma rapitur, concidit cafu gravi 
 Nee opinans, etjini/lram fregit tibiam' t 
 Duas cum dcxtras maluiflet perdere. 
 
 PH^EDRUS. Lib. v. Fab. 7. 
 
 Here the whole joke confifts left-handed flute and the min* 
 in fmijlra tibia fignifying a ftrel's left leg* 
 
 d 4 create
 
 Jti PREFACE. 
 
 create an agreeable harmony, but believes 
 it to have been even more common in 
 \ife than the fingle ; though he fuppofes 
 that the two flutes were in fad: fepara- 
 ted, but that the feveral pipes of each 
 joined in the mouth of the player. To 
 this account he annexes the figure of a 
 Choraules, or Chief Minflr el, \yhoholds 
 in each hand a pipe vyithout holes, much 
 in the fhape of a modern pofr.-horn.-j 
 
 |n order to give as plain an idea a$ 
 poflible of the Mufick, to the Antient 
 Comedies, I have fubjoined to this pr.e r 
 face a plate containing three Mufical 
 Figures taken from an Italian treatife on 
 the Theatrical Mafks and Comick Figures 
 of the Romans, by Francefco de Fico- 
 roni.* The Figure at the top is that of 
 a Female-Minftrel, playing on two Un-* 
 
 . * Le Mafchere Sceniche e vemente da P'rancefco de Fi- 
 \K Figure Comiche d'Anti- coroni. In Roma, 1736. : . v 
 di Romani, \Jefcritte bre-
 
 PREFACE. }vji 
 
 equal Flutes; and is copied from a very 
 antient bas-relief in marble, preferved 
 among the curious pieces of fculpture in 
 the Farnefe Palace: The whole marble 
 contains five figures, and reprefents a 
 fcene in the laft ad of the Andrian, 
 where Simo calls forth Dromo to carry 
 off Davus to punifhment. On one fide 
 Dromo, with a kind of knotted cord in 
 his hand, which is raifed in the air and 
 feems prepared to fall heavy on Davus, 
 is hurrying him away. On the other fide 
 appears the enraged Simo, with Chremes 
 endeavouring to moderate his anger; and 
 in the middle the Minftrel, playing as in 
 the annexed plate. The drefs of the Min- 
 ftrel (although here a female one) is ex- 
 actly conformable to the defcription of 
 the habit of the Minftrel by Horace, 
 
 Traxittjue vagus per pulpita veftem. 
 And drew along the ftage a length of train. 
 
 4 la
 
 Iviii PREFACE. 
 
 In the original plate {he is turned to- 
 wards the two flaves ; and feems intend^ 
 ing to keep time with Dromo's blows, 
 or, as Ficoroni fuppofes, to exhilarate the 
 fpectators between the feveral ftrokes.* 
 
 The female figure on the left, bear- 
 ing two Unequal Flutes in her hand, re- 
 prefents (as Ficoroni fuppofes -f- from her 
 flowing hair being collected in a knot be^- 
 hind, as well as from a Satyrick Mafk, 
 which in the original Cameo, whence the 
 plate is taken, ftands by her fide) a 
 Minftrel employed in the Satyrick Drama, 
 a kind of Serious Paftoral much in fa- 
 vour on the Roman Stage, and of which 
 Horace has fpoken very largely in his 
 Art of Poetry. This figure feems to con- 
 firm the conjecture of Montfaucon, that 
 the Double Flutes were in fact two dif- 
 ^tinct inftruments, and that the pipes 
 
 x * Ficoroni, p. 27. t Ibid. p. 118. 
 
 of
 
 PREFACE. lix 
 
 of each joined in the mouth of the Min- 
 ftrel. 
 
 The figure on the right is copied 
 from a mutilated marble containing a 
 Greek Infcription, KAT. FIFO. IZ. KAA. 
 ARPI AIHN. which infcription, as it records 
 no name, nor bears any other mark of 
 thofe ufed on funeral occafions, * Fi- 
 coroni fuppofes to be intended to record 
 fome theatrical exhibition on the time 
 there mentioned, which was feventeen 
 days before the Calends of April, being 
 equal to our Sixteenth of March, and 
 the time of the celebration of the Li- 
 beralia, or Games in Honour of Bacchus, 
 in Antient Rome. 
 
 I have given thefe two laft figures to 
 fhew the various forms, as well as im- 
 provements of the Flute. Thofe in the 
 hands' of the Paftoral Minftrel have but 
 
 * Ficoroni, p. 196. 
 
 three
 
 I* PREFACE. 
 
 three flops; but that in the right hand 
 of the mutilated figure has feven; which 
 confirms the obfervation of the learned 
 Montfaucon, who tells us that the Flute 
 had at firfl> three holes, but that they 
 were afterwards multiplied to feven, and 
 even to ten : In another part of Fico- 
 roni's * book is a figure, which feems to 
 be that of .a Vain-Glorious Soldier, a 
 very common character in the comedies 
 of the Antients, finging to a minftrel 
 playing on Double Flutes, which by their 
 fliape and fize feem to have been thofe 
 Jarge trumpet- toned inftruments in ufc 
 in the days of Horace. 
 
 As to the manner in which thefe Flutes 
 were .ufed,-f FicoroniobfervesfromDio- 
 medes the Grammarian, that by Flutes 
 equa^ or unequal^ was meant, that in 
 Soliloquy the minflr-el blew only one 
 
 * Page 29, f Page 30. 
 
 pipe,
 
 PREFACE. fxi 
 
 pipe, and in Dialogue both. The pre-* 
 faces of Donatus to the feveral plays of 
 our author do, I think, plainly overthrow 
 this afTertion; and on the fame authority 
 we may pronounce it to be pretty certain, 
 that the Soliloquies, like the Airs in our 
 Opera, had more laboured accompani- 
 ments than the Dialogue, or common 
 Recitative ; for Donatus has informed us 
 ~Q\w&%\khiftriones pronuntiabant : C AN- 
 TIC A vero temper abantur modis ?2on a 
 poetd, fed a perito art is muf^c<z faElis. Ne- 
 que enim omnia iifdem modis ;;z uno can- 
 tico agebantur^fedfepe mutatis. Ut fig* 
 nificant qui tres numeros in cot/tcediis po- 
 itunt) qui tres continent mutatos modos 
 cantici illita. The import of this paflage 
 is explained by Diomedes, who tells us 
 that Diverbia fignifies the Dialogue, and 
 Cantica the Soliloquies.* Of this techni- 
 
 * Diverbia partes Comcediarum funt, in quibus plures per- 
 fonx vcrfantur ; Cantica, in quibus una tantum. 
 
 cal
 
 Ixii PREFACE, 
 
 cal fenfe of the word Canticum^ after 
 confulting and carefully comparing many 
 other paffages of Donatus, I am well 
 convinced; though I confefs I was not 
 at all aware of it in my firft draught 
 of the notes to the Brothers; nor, it is 
 evident, was Madam Dacier ; who has 
 alfo, in her account of the Mufick, in 
 the notes to the Andrian, miftaken the 
 meaning of Flutes equal or unequal* right 
 
 * Donatus hss left us no 
 explanation of the ufe of the 
 Tibia pares and impares. My 
 friend Mr. Burney, a very 
 ingenious mafter of mufick, 
 conjectures, and I think very 
 happily, that theEqualFlutes 
 were. Flutes in unifon with 
 each other and the une- 
 qual Flutes, Flutes in oflave 
 to each other : the ottave re- 
 fcmbling unity fo much, that 
 an uncultivated ear can fcarce 
 diftinguifh between them; as 
 is the cafe where a man and 
 woman fing the fame air or 
 melody together, at which 
 time it feems as if they were 
 
 finging in unifon, whereas 
 the male voice moves an oc- 
 tave below that of the female. 
 Now it is well known in Har- 
 monicks, by thedivifion of a 
 monochord, that twomufical 
 firings of the fame matter, 
 thicknefs, and tenfion, one 
 being but half the length of 
 the other, will be in ofta-ve^ 
 It is the fame of two .pipes : 
 and the appearance of the E- 
 qual and Unequal Flutes in 
 antique reprefentations, feems 
 to confirm the conjecture of 
 their being unifcns and oftaues 
 to each other.
 
 PREFACE. Ixiii 
 
 cr left-handed^ fuppofing them {ynony- 
 mous terms; whereas it is plain from Do- 
 natus, as well as from the title to that play, 
 that it was acted to EQUAL Flutes , Right 
 AND Left-handed, and that the Right* 
 handed fignified thofe ufed in the more 
 Serious parts of Comedy, and the Left- 
 handed thofe ufed in the more Pleafant. 
 It appears alfo, from the lines above 
 cited from Horace, that the Minftrel did 
 not content himfelf with playing on the 
 Flutes, but accompanied his mulick 
 with fome gefture fuitable to the adlion 
 of the fcene. 
 
 * prifca; motumquc & luxuriem addidit arti 
 
 Tibicen. 
 
 -- call'd in wanton movements to his aid. 
 
 " Of the ufe and propriety of thefe 
 " geftures," fays the ingenious Annotator 
 on the Art of Poetry whom I have often 
 cited, " it will not be eafy for us, who 
 
 " fee
 
 " 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 fee no fuch things attempted on the 
 modern ftage, to form any very clear 
 cf or exa& notions."* Here therefore I 
 {hall conclude this preface, and take my 
 leave of the Antient Mufick, referring 
 the curious reader to the feveral com- 
 mentators on Horace and Ariftotle, and 
 to thofe authors who have written ex- 
 prefsly on this fubjecl:; which it is need- 
 lefs to perfue any further in this place, 
 as it is now of no great confequence to 
 the reader of the Comedies of Terence. 
 
 * KURD'S Notes on the Art of Poetry, p. 150. 
 
 THE

 
 THE 
 
 LIFE of TERENCE. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 THE 
 
 LIFE 
 
 O F 
 
 TERENCE. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM 
 
 SUETONIUS* 
 
 PU B L I U S Terentius Afer was born 
 at Carthage, and was a Have of 
 Terentius Lucanus, a Roman Sena- 
 
 * From Suetonius.] This life of Madam Dacier in giving 
 of our Author is by fome at- a tranflation of this account, 
 tributed to Donatus. It is with a few fupplementary 
 not very fatisfaclory; but as notes, than to pretend to at- 
 all that has been faid of Te- tempt an alteration, where I 
 rence by other writers is chiefly could make no material ad- 
 taken from it, I thought it dition. 
 better to follow the example 
 
 e 2 tor;
 
 Ixviii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 tor;* who, perceiving him to have an excel- 
 lent understanding and a great deal of wit, not 
 only beftowed on him a liberal education, but 
 gave him his freedom in the very early part of 
 his life. Some writers are of opinion that he 
 was taken prifoner in battle, but Feneftella -j- 
 proves this to be impoffible, fince Terence was 
 born after J the fecond Punick war, and died 
 before the commencement of the third. But 
 
 * A Roman Senator. ] This 
 Senator gave our Author the 
 name of Terence, according 
 to the prevailing cuftom a- 
 mong the Romans, whenever 
 theyconferred freedom on their 
 ilaves. His real name we are 
 entirely unacquainted with ; 
 though it is fomewhat extraor- 
 dinary that a Poet of fuch dif- 
 tinguifhed merit fliould want 
 a friend to hand it down to 
 us j and that, by a fingular 
 fatality, he who could ftamp 
 immortality on the name of 
 his mafter, fhou'ld be unable 
 to continue his own. DA- 
 CIER. 
 
 f Lucius Fene/lella.] He 
 was one of the moft accurate 
 hiftorians and antiquaries the 
 Romans ever had : heflourifii- 
 ed towards the end of Au- 
 gu/tus' reign, or in the be- 
 
 ginning of that of Tiberius ; 
 he wrote many things, efpe- 
 cially annals ; but time has 
 deprived us of them all. DA- 
 
 t The fecond Punick War.-} 
 This ended in the year of 
 Rome 552 ; 196 years before 
 the birth of Chrift ; and the 
 third began in the year of 
 Rome 6p3 ; an interval of 
 fifty-one years, which both 
 faw the birth and death of 
 Terence. It is evident he 
 died in the year of Rome 594, 
 while Cn. Corn. Dolabella 
 and M. Fulvius were confuls, 
 at the age of thirty-five ; nine 
 years before the third Punick 
 war. He was born confe- 
 quently in the year of Rome 
 560, eight years after the 
 iecond Punick war. DACIER. 
 
 even
 
 TERENCE. Ixix 
 
 even fuppofing that he had boen taken by the 
 Numidians, * or Getulians, he could not have 
 fallen into the hands of a Roman commander,-)- 
 fince there was little or no communication be- 
 tween the Romans and Africans till^ after the 
 entire definition of Carthage. 
 
 Our Poet was beloved and much efteemed by 
 noblemen of the firft rank in the Roman Com- 
 monwealth ; and lived in a ftate of great in- 
 timacy with Seipio African us, and C. Lae- 
 
 * Numidians, &?<:.] The 
 Carthaginians (between the 
 fecond and third Punick war) 
 were in continual broils with 
 the Numidians or Getulians, 
 and confequently Terence 
 might be taken prifoner in 
 fome one of thefe fldrmifhes 
 by theNumidian troops. DA- 
 CIER. 
 
 f- Roman commander.] This 
 is a very undecifive way of 
 reafoning : for though it is 
 very certain that the Romans 
 before the entire demolition 
 of Carthage, had very little 
 
 intcrcourfe with Africa, they 
 might, without any great dif- 
 ficulty, have purchafed a 
 (lave. It is well known that 
 ambaffadors were fent from 
 P.ome to Carthage at two or 
 three different times, in order 
 to fettle fome differences fub- 
 fitting between them and the 
 Numidians. Where then is 
 the improbability of a Numi- 
 dian's felling a Have, he had 
 taken from the Carthagini- 
 ans, to one of the Romans ? 
 Nothing more probable. DA- 
 
 lius,
 
 Ixx T H E L I F E O F 
 
 lius, * to whom the beauty of his perfon alfo is 
 fuppofed to have recommended him : which Fe- 
 neftella lays to his charge, aflerting that Terence 
 was older than either of them.-f Corn. Nepos 
 on the contrary writes, that they were nearly of 
 an age, and Porcius gives us room to fufped: 
 fuch a familiarity between them by the follow- 
 ing lines. 
 
 Dum lafciviam nobilium &? fucofas laudes petit : 
 Dum Africani "cod dlvma inhiat avidis auribus : 
 Dum ad Furium \fe ccmitare^ s? L*lium> pulcrum put at : 
 Dumfe amari ab hifce credit, crebrb in Albanum rapi 
 Obflorem xtatis fu<e -, adfummam inopiam redaffus eft. 
 Itaque econfpeftu omnium abiit in Gr<eci<e t err am ultimam. 
 Mortum eft in Stymphalo, Arcadia oppido. 
 
 * To whom the beauty of his 
 perfon, &c.] Madam Dacier, 
 (from a female delicacy, I 
 iuppofe) has entirely altered 
 this circumftance ;. and there 
 is, in her tranflation of this 
 life from Suetonius, fcarce 
 the {hadow of this imputation 
 on our Author either in the 
 text; or the verfes introduced 
 on purpofe to fupport it. 
 
 f Older than either of them,"] 
 Terence was nine years elder 
 
 than Scipio, the fon of Pau- 
 lus jEmilius, the perfon here 
 meant, who was not born 
 till the year of Rome 569. 
 We are not quite fo certain 
 as to the age of Laelius. 
 DACIER. 
 
 J Fur jus Pullius.'] A man 
 of great rank and quality ; 
 notAulus Furius Antia, or 
 the Marcus Furius Biba- 
 culus mentioned by Horace. 
 DACIER. 
 
 Seeking
 
 TERENCE. Ixxi 
 
 Seeking the pleafures and deceitful praife 
 Of nobles, while the Bard with greedy ears 
 Drinks in the voice divine of Africanus, 
 Happy to fup with Furius f and with Laslius, 
 Carefs'd , and often, for his bloom of youth, 
 Whiii'd to Mount Alba -, amidft all thefe joys, 
 He finds himfelf reduc'd to poverty. 
 Wherefore withdrawing from all eyes, and flying 
 To the extremeft parts of Greece, he dies 
 At Stymphalus, a village in Arcadia. 
 
 He wrote fix comedies. When he offered his 
 firft play, which was the Andrian, to the^diles, 
 he was ordered to read it to Cascilius.* When 
 he arrived at that Poet's houfe, he found him at 
 table ; and it is faid that our Author, being very 
 meanly drefled, was fuffercd to read the opening 
 of his play, feated on a very low ilool, near 
 the couch of Caecilius : but fcarce had he re- 
 peated a few lines, when Caecilius invited him 
 to fit down to fupper with him, after which 
 Terence proceeded with his play, and finished 
 
 * Read it toC&cilius.] Cze- ous, correHon of Voffius, 
 
 cilius died two years before to read Acilius, the name of 
 
 the reprefentation of the An- one of the ^Ediles, the year 
 
 drian. It is therefore a very of the exhibition of that play, 
 plauiible, as well as ingeni- 
 
 c 4 it
 
 Ixxii THE LIFE OF 
 
 it to the no fmall admiration of Csecilius. Hi 
 fix plays* were equally admired by the Ro- 
 mans ; though Volcatius f- in his remarks on 
 them fays, 
 
 Sumetur Hecyrafexta ex Us f alula. 
 
 " The Step-Mother, 
 
 " The laft, and lead in merit of the Six." 
 
 The Eunuch met with fuch remarkable fuo 
 cefs, that it was aded twice in one day, and 
 
 * Six plays equally admir- 
 ed.'] It would not be eafy to 
 decide which of the fix is the 
 Ueft ; fince each of them has 
 its peculiar beauty. TheAn- 
 drian and Brothers feem to 
 excell in beauty of character : 
 the Eunuch and Phormio, in 
 the vivacity of intrigue : and 
 the Self- Tormentor and Step- 
 Mother have, in my mind, 
 the advantage in fentiment, a 
 livelypaintingof thepafllons, 
 and in the purity, and deli- 
 cacy of ftile. DACIER. 
 
 f Volcatius.] Volcatius Se- 
 digitus, a very antient poet, 
 though we do not precifely 
 know the time in which he 
 
 4 
 
 lived. In his judgment of 
 the Comick Poets, he gives 
 the firft place to Csecilius, 
 the fecond to Plautus, the 
 third to Nsevius, the fourth 
 to Licinius, the fifth to At- 
 tilius j and ranks Terence 
 but the fixth. But Volcatius 
 has done more discredit to 
 hinifclf by this judgment, 
 than honour to Caecilius, and 
 the other writers whom he has 
 preferred toTerence. Each 
 of them might have fome ex- 
 cellencies that our Author 
 did not poflefs; but on the 
 whole theRomans had noCo- 
 mick Poet equal to Terence. 
 DACIER, 
 
 Terence
 
 TERENCE. Jxxiii 
 
 Terence was paid for it 8000 fefterces *, being 
 more than was ever paid for any comedy be- 
 fore -, for which reafon the fum is recorded 
 in the title -f- of that play. Varro prefers the 
 beginning of the Brothers to the beginning of 
 the original of Menander. 
 
 It is pretty commonly faid, that Scipio and 
 Laelius, with whom he lived in fuch familiari- 
 ty, affifted our Author J in his plays, and in- 
 deed Terence himf^lf increafed that fufpicion, 
 
 * 8000 fe/lerces.] About 
 60 1. of our money. 
 
 f Recorded in the title.'] 
 Not as the title now (lands, 
 which {hews that the titles, 
 now come down to us, are 
 imperfect. 
 
 TANAQUIL FAEER. 
 
 \Affifled our Author.} There 
 might be fome foundation 
 for fuch a report. Both Scipio 
 and Lselius might have af- 
 fifted him in poliming his 
 ftile, and even have fupplied 
 him with many a line : be- 
 ing an African, he might not 
 have fo thorough a know- 
 
 ledge of the elegancies and 
 beauties of the Latin lan- 
 guage. This reafoning how- 
 ever is to me by no means 
 conclufive. Phsedrus was a 
 Thracian flave, yet no one 
 wrote more correctly or with, 
 greater purity ; nor was he 
 ever taxed with having re- 
 ceived any affiftance in his 
 compontions : why then fuf- 
 pect Terence, when Sueto- 
 nius, in the very beginning 
 of his life, confefles he had 
 been very carefully educated 
 and made free in his very early 
 youth byTerentius Lucanus: 1 
 DACIER.
 
 Irxiv THE LIFE OF 
 
 by the little pains he took to refute it, witnefs 
 the Prologue to the Brothers :* though he might 
 probably have ated thus, knowing that fuch an 
 opinion was not unpleafing to thofe great men. 
 Be that as it may, this opinion gained ground,-)- 
 and has continued down to our times. 
 
 3'* 
 
 Quintus Memmius, J in an oration written 
 in his own defence, politively declares that 
 Scipio wrote the plays for his amufement, which 
 he permitted Terence to father : Corn. Nepos 
 
 * jyitnefs the Prologue to dit to idle and malicious tales. 
 
 the Brothers.] But in the Pro- D ACIER. 
 logue to the Self- Tormentor 
 
 he is not fo complaifantj flat- f Opinion gained ground.] 
 
 ly declaring the report malici- Valgius, a Poet cotemporary 
 
 ous, and intreating his Audi- to Horace, exprefsly fays, 
 ence not to give the leaft cre- 
 
 Hee qua: vacant ur fabula, cujus funt ? 
 Non has, qui jura populis recenfem dabat % 
 Honor e fummo affeftus^ fecit fabulas ? 
 
 And whofe then are thefe pieces ? Did not Ke, 
 Who, full of honours, gave the people laws, 
 Compofe thefe Comedies ? DACIER. 
 
 % Q Memmius.'] Moft Poem of Lucretius is in- 
 probably the Grandfather to fcribed. DACIER. 
 that Memmius to whom the 
 
 3 aflerts,
 
 TERENCE. Ixxv 
 
 aflcrts, that he had been informed from very good 
 authority, that Laslius, being at his Villa, at 
 Puzzuoli, on a certain firft day of March,* was 
 requeued by his Lady to fup fooner than his 
 ufual hour, but he intreated her not to interrupt 
 hisftudies: Coming into fupper rather late, he 
 declared he had never employed his time with 
 better fucceis than he had then done; and 
 being afked what he had written, he *f- repeated 
 thofe verfes in the Self-Tormentor, beginning 
 with, 
 
 Satis pel proterve me Syri promiffa hue induxerunt. 
 
 Santra J obferves, that if Terence had needed 
 any affiftance in the compofition of his plays, he 
 
 * A certain fir/1 day of found fome lines written by 
 
 March.'] The firft day of his friends ; yet nobody would 
 
 March was a holiday kept pretend to fay that thofq 
 
 by the Roman ladies, who pieces were not written by 
 
 on that occafion claimed the Moliere. DACIER. 
 privilege of being entire mif- 
 
 trefles of their houfes, and J Santra*] An Author of 
 
 directed every thing for that the time of Julius Casfar. He 
 
 day. DACIER.. wrote a treatife on the anti- 
 quity of words, antl the lives 
 
 ^ Repeated tbofe verfes 9 &c.] of illuftrious men: but hU 
 
 This may be. In the plays works are allloft. DACIER. 
 of Moliere perhaps might be 
 
 would
 
 Ixxvi 
 
 THE LIFE Of 
 
 would not have applied to Scipio * and Laeliusy 
 who were at that time very young, but rather to 
 C.SuIpiciusGallus,-f- arhanof found learning,and 
 who was thefirft perfon that introduced plays at 
 the Confular Games ; or to J Marcus Popilius 
 Lenas, or to QJFabius Labco, || both men of 
 
 * Would not hav applied 
 to Scipio.~\ This reafoning of 
 Santra proves nothing : for 
 when Terence commenced 
 Author, Scipio was at the 
 age of twenty-one ; and be- 
 iides having been extremely 
 well educated, was poflerTed 
 of an extraordinary genius. 
 DACIER. 
 
 Paftorals and little poems 
 tnay perhaps now and then 
 be written at fixteen or eigh- 
 teen, but it muft be allowed 
 that the age of twenty-one is 
 a very early period for the 
 produdlion of fuch dramatick 
 pieces as thofe of Terence. 
 Beftdes, when the Andrian 
 was firft exhibited, our Au- 
 thor was buf twenty-feven, 
 and Madam Dacier herfelf 
 tells us that he was nine years 
 older than Scipio, who there- 
 fore could be np more than 
 eighteen years of age, a time 
 of life when men rather be- 
 
 gin to be the fubje&s, than 
 the cultivators of the Comick 
 Mufe. 
 
 f C. Sulpidus Callus.] The 
 fame Sulpicius Gallus, who 
 was conful at the time of the 
 firft exhibition of the Andri- 
 an. DACIER. 
 
 J M.Popilius Lenas.} Con- 
 ful in the year of Rome 581, 
 when Terence was at the age 
 of twenty-one. DACIER. 
 
 |1 <%. Fabius Labco.] A man 
 of very diftinguifhed merit,- 
 who pa(Ted the offices of 
 Quaeftor, Praetor, Triumvir, 
 Conful and High Prieft ; and 
 commanded theRomau troops 
 with reputation. Hiftory 
 fixes his confulfhip in the year 
 of Rome 570 : his Colleague 
 was M. Claud. Marcellus. 
 Terence at that time was but 
 ten years old. DACIER. 
 
 Con-
 
 TERENCE. Jxxvii 
 
 Confular dignity, and excellent Poets. Terence 
 himfelf intimates, fpeaking of thofe who were 
 fuppofed to affifl him, that they were not young 
 men, but perfons whofe abilities had been ex- 
 perienced by the Publick in peace, war, and 
 bufinefs of ftate. 
 
 To wipe off the afperfion of plagiarifm, or 
 perhaps to make himfelf a mailer of the cuf- 
 toms and manners of the Grecians, in order to 
 delineate them the better in his writings, he 
 left Rome in the thirty-fifth year of his age, 
 after having exhibited the fix comedies which 
 are now extant -, and he never returned more. 
 
 Volcatius fpeaks of his death in the follow- 
 ing manner : 
 
 Sed ut Aferfex populo edidit comcedias, 
 Iter him in Afiam fecit : navim cum femel 
 Confcendit, vifus nunquam eft. Sic vita vacat. 
 
 But
 
 Ixxviii THE LIFE OF 
 
 But Terence, having given the town fix plays, 
 Voyag'd for Afia : but when once embark'd, 
 Was ne'er feen afterwards. He died at fea. 
 
 Q._Confetius * fays, that he died at fea in 
 his return from Greece, whence he was bring- 
 . ing one hundred and eight plays -f- tranflated 
 from Menander. Others again aflert, that he 
 died at Stymphalus in Arcadia, during the 
 Confulfhip of Cn. Cornelius Dolabella, and M. 
 Fulvius Nobilior J, for grief, having loft the 
 comedies he had tranflated, as well as thofe he 
 had himfelf written. 
 
 * Jg. Confetius.] This which Terence had already 
 
 Author I am quite a ftranger exhibited four. This ftory 
 
 to. DACIER. therefore muft be a mere 
 fable. DACIER. 
 
 f One hundred and eight 
 
 plays.'] Menander wrote but % The conful/hip of Dola- 
 
 one hundred and nine plays bella, &V.} In the year of 
 
 himfelf, fome fay but one Rome 594, the year after the 
 
 hundred and eight, and others exhibition of the Brothers, 
 
 but one hundred and five, of DACIER. 
 
 He
 
 TERENCE. Ixxix 
 
 He is faid to have been of a middle flature, 
 genteel, and of a fwarthy complexion. He left 
 a daughter, who was afterwards married to a 
 Roman Knight ; and at the time of his death he 
 was poflelTed of an houfe together with a garden 
 containing fix acres of land on the Appian way, 
 clofe by the Villa Martis. It is very extraordi- 
 nary therefore that Porcius mould fay, 
 
 Nil Publius 
 
 Scipio profuit, nil ei La 'Hits, nil Furius : 
 Tres per idem tcmpus qui agitabant nobiks fatillime. 
 Eorum ilk opera ne domum quidem habuit conduftitiam : 
 Saltern ut effet, quo referret obitum domini fervulus. 
 
 Nothing did Publius Scipio profit him, 
 Nothing did Laslius, nothing Furius, 
 At once the three great patrons of our Bard ; 
 And yet fo niggard of their bounties to him, 
 He had not even wherewithal to hire 
 
 A houfe
 
 Ixxx THE LIFE OF 
 
 A houfe in Rome, to which a faithful flave 
 Might bring the tidings of his mailer's death.' 
 
 * Afranius in his Compitalia -J- prefers him to 
 all the Cotnick Poets. - 
 
 Veretttio non fimikm dices quempiam. 
 To Terence you can mew no parallel. 
 
 But Volcatius not only places him after Nas- 
 vius, Plautus, and Cascilius^ but even after Li- 
 cinius. Cicero in his Leimon, | a work in 
 
 * Afircmhts.] A Drama- 
 tick Poet of great reputation, 
 whofe teftimony is the more 
 honourable, as he was a co- 
 temporary of our author, 
 though much younger. DA- 
 
 CIER. 
 
 f Compitalia.'] Feafts in 
 crofs-ftreets and ways, cele- 
 brated the fecond day of Ja- 
 ruary in honour of their rural 
 (Gods, hence called Lares y or 
 Compitalitii. 
 
 AlNSWORTHIUS. 
 
 J Llctnus."] Licinius Im- 
 brex, who flourifhed in the 
 year of Rome 554. DACIER. 
 
 || Leitnon."] A Greek word 
 [A(/XWV] fignifyrng a mea- 
 dow- This work of Cicero 
 contained, mofl probably, 
 nothing but the praifes of 
 eminent men. Thefe beauti- 
 ful verfes are imitated by Au- 
 fonius, and Caefar begins his 
 criticifm on Terence in the 
 very fame terms. For it is 
 certain that Csefar only un- 
 dertook that tafk in order to 
 imitate
 
 TERENCE. 
 
 Ixxxi 
 
 Y quoque, qui folus leflo fermone, 
 Comer fum expreflumque Latino, voce Menandrum 
 Jn medio populi fedatis vocibus effers\ 
 Quidquid come loquens, ac omnia dulcia dicens. 
 
 imitate and contradict Ci- 
 cero. DACIER. 
 
 [Voffius confiders this as 
 an Erratum, and tells us that 
 this work of Tully was not 
 called Leimon but Libo^ and 
 was addrefled to Terentius 
 Libo, a poet of that time, 
 and a native of Fregellae.] 
 
 (7" Before we conclude thefe 
 
 notes, it will be proper to 
 
 take notice of a paflage in 
 
 Orofius, which has mifled 
 
 many concerning our Poet. 
 
 This hiftorian, though none 
 
 of the moft correct, yet not 
 
 without merit, writes thus : 
 
 Scipio jam cognomento Afri- 
 
 canus^ triumphant urbem in- 
 
 grejjus eft, quern Terentitts, qiti 
 
 pojlea Csrnicus, ex nobilibus 
 
 Cartkaginienfium captivis, pile- 
 
 atus, quod indultce fib'i liber- 
 
 tatis infigne fuit, triumpban- 
 
 tem pojl furrum fecutui eft. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 " ScipiO Africanus entered 
 ** Rome in triumph, and was 
 " attended byTerence, one of 
 ** the chief of the Carthagini- 
 " an captives, who afterwards 
 " became the celebrated Co- 
 " mick Poet, wearing a cap 
 " on his head, as a mark of 
 " his freedom having been 
 *' conferred on him." This 
 is undoubtedly fabulous, take 
 it which way you will. For 
 if Orofius means Scipio the 
 Elder, his triumph was in th? 
 year of Rome 552, eightyears 
 before Terence was born. If 
 he fpeaks of the Younger Sci- 
 pio, the fon of Paulus/Emi- 
 lius, his triumphal entry was 
 in the year of Rome 637, 
 thirteen years after the death 
 of Terence. What hurried 
 Orofius into the miftake, is 2. 
 paflage in Livy, which he did 
 not attentively examine.This 
 great hiftorian in his 3oth 
 book and 45th Chapter fay*, 
 g Secutia
 
 Ixxxii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 And thou, O Terence, couldft alone transfuie 
 The Attick Graces to the Latin Tongue, 
 And bring Menander to the ear of Rome : 
 Such purity, fuch fweetnefs in thy ftile ! 
 
 C. Caefar in like manner, 
 
 TH quoque, tu in fummis, O dimidiate Menander 1 , 
 Poneris, & merito, puri fermonis amator. 
 Lenibus atque utinam fcriptis adjunftaforet vis 
 Comica, ut <equato virtus polleret honore 
 Cum Greeds, neque in hdc defpeftus parte jaceres : 
 *Unum hoc maceror &f doleo tibi deej/e, 'Terenti. 
 
 SectttusScipionem triumphantem 
 eft, pileo capiti impojito, >. 
 Terentius Culleo j omnique de- 
 inde vita, ut dignum erat, li- 
 tertatis au ft or em coluit. " Qi 
 " Terentius Cuileo followed 
 " the triumphal car of Scipio 
 " on the day of his publick 
 " entrance into Rome, with 
 " a cap on his head, and 
 " honoured him during the 
 " remainder of his life, as the 
 " author of his freedom." It 
 could not therefore be ourTe- 
 rence, of whom Livy is fpeak- 
 
 ing. It was a Roman fertator, 
 who having been taken pri- 
 foner by the Carthaginians, 
 and fet free by Scipio, deter- 
 mined to grace his deliverer's 
 triumph, which he attended 
 wearing the cap of liberty on 
 his head, by way of compli- 
 ment, as if he had indeed 
 really received his manumif- 
 fion from, the hands of Scipio. 
 DACIER. 
 
 * Unum hoc maceror, &V.J 
 
 ValeaSedigitus! nosAfranio 
 
 aflentiii
 
 TERENCE. Ixxxiii 
 
 And Thou, oh Thou among the firft be plac'd, 
 Ay and defervedly, thou Half-Menander, 
 Lover of pureft dialogue ! And oh, 
 That Humour had gone hand in hand with cafe - 
 In all thy writings ! that thy Mufe might Hand 
 In equal honour with the Grecian ftage, 
 Nor Thou be robb'd of more than half thy fame ! 
 'This only I lament, and this, I grieve, 
 There's wanting in thee, Terence ! 
 
 aflentiri non pigeat, ac Te- carmina) defideremus. Nihil 
 rentium omnibus praeftitiiFe illi defuit : omnia quae Co- 
 Comicis credamus ; neque mico Poetae prasftanda funt, 
 vim illam comicam, quam ei 
 unam defuifle dolet Caefar 
 
 praeftitit. 
 FRANCISCUS ASULANUS. 
 
 (ft modo funt ilia Csefaris 
 
 THE

 
 
 T -II E 
 
 A N D R I A N. 
 
 
 VOL. I,
 
 TO THE 
 
 STUDENTS OF CHRIST CHURCH, 
 
 OXFORD, 
 
 THE FOLLOWING COMEDY, 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM TERENCE, 
 
 IS HUMBLY INSCRIBED, 
 
 BY THEIR MOST OBEDIENT SERVANT, 
 
 AND FELLOW-STUDENT, 
 
 GEORGE COLMAN.
 
 PERSONS. 
 
 PROLOGUE, 
 SI MO, 
 
 PAMPHILUS, 
 C H R E M E S, 
 C H A R I N U S, 
 C R I T O, 
 S O S I A, 
 D A V U S, \ 
 B Y R R H I A, 
 D R O M O, 
 SERVANTS, &c. 
 
 GLYCERIUM, 
 
 M Y S I S, 
 
 L E S B I A, 
 
 A R C H I L L I S, 
 
 SCENE, ATHENS,
 
 THE 
 
 ANDRIAN;* 
 
 Aded at the MEGALESIAN GAMES, f 
 
 M. Fulvius arid M. Glabrio, Curule ^Ediles : J Prin- 
 cipal Actors, || L. Ambivius Turpio and L. Attilius 
 Prseneftinus : The Mufick, f|| compofed for Equal 
 Flutes, Right and Left-handed, by Flaccus, Freed- 
 man to Claudius: It is wholly Grecian :||J Publifhed, 
 M. Marcellus and Cn. Sulpicius, Confuls. || 
 
 The Andrian.] There is 
 much controverfy among the 
 Criticks, whether the Andrian 
 was the firft play, which Te- 
 rence produced, or only the firft 
 of thofe which have come down 
 to our times. Donatus poft- 
 tively afTerts it to be our au- 
 thor's firft production, and adds 
 that the favourable reception it 
 met with, encouraged him to 
 go on in writing for the Stage. 
 He tells us a!fo that this Piece 
 was entitled " The Andrian of 
 Terence," and not Terence's 
 " Andrian," according to the 
 cuftoms of th Romans, who 
 placed the name, of the Play 
 firft, if it was written by an au- 
 thor, yet unknown in the 
 Theatrical world, but placed 
 the author's name firft in the 
 title, if it was one already cele- 
 brated. Madam Dacier is of a 
 ontrary opinion, and thinks 
 
 that the introductory lines of 
 the Prologue make it evident 
 that Terence had written before. 
 Thefe inquiries are little more 
 than mere matter of curiofity. 
 For my part, I am rather in- 
 clined to the opinion of Dona- 
 tus. The objections of Lavi- 
 nius, which Terence in his 
 Prologue endeavours to refute, 
 are entirety confined to this 
 play; and that itwaspoflible for 
 Lavinius to have feen the manu- 
 fcript before the reprefentation 
 is evident from the Prologue to 
 the Eunuch, where Terence di- 
 rectly charges that circumftance 
 to his adverfary. The con- 
 cluding lines of the Prologue 
 fpeak the languageof an author, 
 new in theDrama,muchftronger 
 than thofe in the beginning de- 
 note his having written before. 
 It may be remembered alfo, 
 that Terence was no more than 
 B 3 27 year*
 
 [ vi] 
 
 27 years of age at the time of 
 the firft reprefentation of this 
 comedy. 
 
 Both the Englifh and French 
 Theatres have borrowed the 
 Fable of this Play. Sir Richard 
 Steelehas raifed on that founda- 
 tion his Comedy of theConfci- 
 ous Lovers ; and Baron has 
 adopted even the Title. It is 
 propofed to throw out fome ob- 
 fervations oneach of thefe pieces, 
 and to compare them with Te- 
 rence's comedy, in the courfe 
 of thefe notes. 
 
 f The Megalefian Games 
 were thofe inftituted in honour 
 of the fuperior Gods. 
 
 t The JEdiles were Magif- 
 trates of Rome, whofe office it 
 was to take care of the city, its 
 publick Buildings, &c. to re- 
 gulate the market, and to pre- 
 fide at folemn games, publick 
 entertainments, Sec. 
 
 || Principal Afiors.} Egerunt, 
 fefc. The perfons thus menti- 
 oned in the feveral titles to our 
 Author's pieces, were the Mana- 
 gers of the Company or Com- 
 panies of A dors concerned in the 
 reprefentation. It is certain 
 alfo, that they were principal 
 aftors : for befides the anecdote 
 concerning Ambivius and Te- 
 rence, related in the notes to 
 Phormio, Donatus in his pre- 
 face to the Brothers, exprefly 
 fays, Agentibus L. Ambivio tt 
 L. Turpione : qui cum fuis gregi- 
 tus etiam turn ferfonati agebunt. 
 
 We are told by the Greek 
 Scholiafts, that thefe titles were 
 always prefixt to pieces afte'd 
 by authority of the Magiftrate. 
 One of them ftands before each 
 of the Comedies of Terence ; 
 but it is plain from Suetonius, as 
 Le Fevre has obferved, that 
 they have defcended to our 
 times defective and imperfect. 
 
 f|| No part of the hiftory of 
 the antient Drama is more ob- 
 fcure, than that' which relates 
 to the Mufick. A Ihort extract 
 from Donatus will ferve to give 
 fome explanation of the phrafes 
 ufed in the above title. " They 
 ' were adled to Flutes equal or 
 ' unequal, right or left-hand- 
 ' ed. The Right-handed, or 
 ' Lydian, by their grave tone,. 
 ' denounced the ferioas ftile of 
 ' the comedy. The Left-hand- 
 ' ed, or Tyrian, by their light 
 ' Iharp found, denoted the vi- 
 ' vacity of the piece. But when 
 ' the play was faid to be acted 
 ' to both Right and Left-hand- 
 ' ed, it denoted it to be Serio- 
 ' Comick." 
 
 ||t// it 'wholly Grecian.} That 
 is, that fpecies of Comedy, 
 which was called P alii at a ; in 
 which theHabits, Manners, and 
 Arguments, were all Grecian. 
 
 || Marcellus and Sulpicius, 
 Con/uls.]' That is, in the year of 
 Rome 587, the twenty-feventh 
 of our Author's age, and 166 
 Years before Chrift. 
 
 PRO-
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 TH E Bard, when firft he gave his mind to write, 
 Thought it his only bufmefs, that his plays 
 Shou'd pleafe the people : * But it now falls out, 
 He finds, much otherwife, and waftes, perforce, 
 His time in writing Prologues , not to tell 
 The argument, but to refute the (landers 
 Broach'd by the malice of an older Bard, f 
 
 And mark what vices he is charg'd withall! 
 Menander wrote the Andrian and Perinthian : J 
 Know one, and you know both; in argument 
 Lefs difFrent than in fentiment and ftile. 
 What fuited with the Andrian he confefles 
 From the Perinthian he transferred, and us'd 
 For his: and this it is thefe fland'rers blame, 
 
 * Should pleafe the people.] It Jonfon, that the Prologue to 
 has been obferved by Mr. the SilentWornan opens in imi- 
 Whalley, the laft editor of Ben tation of this of our Author. 
 " Truth fays, of old the art of making plays, 
 '* Was to content the people." 
 
 \ Of an older Bard.'} This thefe two plays being nearly the 
 old Arch-adverfary of Terence fame, Terence having pitch- 
 was, according to Donatus, Lu- ed upon the Andrian for the 
 cius Lavinius; but, according Groundwork of his Fable, en- 
 to Madam Dacier, Lufcius La- riched it with fuch parts of the 
 nuvinus. Perinthian, as naturally fell in 
 
 I MtnaMler wrote the Andrian. with that plan. We are told 
 
 and Perinthian.} From this ac- b X Donatus, that the firft fcene 
 
 count it is plain, that Terence of our Author's Andrian is al- 
 
 did not in this play weave two moft a literal tranflation of the 
 
 different ftories of Menander && fcene of the Perinthian of 
 
 together in that vicious manner Menander, in which the Old 
 
 which is generally imputed to Ma " difcourfed with his wife, 
 
 him : but that the argument of J"^ Simo does with Soiia. In 
 B 4 the
 
 Vlll 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Proving by deep and learned difputation, 
 That Fables fhou'd not be confounded thus. 
 Troth ! all their knowledge is they nothing know : 
 Who, blaming him, blame * Naevius, Plautus, Ennius, 
 Whofe great example is his precedent; 
 Whofe negligence he'd wifh to emulate 
 Rather than their dark diligence. Henceforth, 
 Let them, I give them warning, be at peace, 
 And ceafe to rail, left they be made to know 
 Their own mifdeeds. Be favourable ! fit 
 With equal mind, and hear our play j that hence 
 Ye may conclude, what hope to entertain, 
 Whether the plays he may hereafter write 
 Shall merit approbation or contempt. 
 
 the Andrian of Menander, the 
 Old Man opened with a foli- 
 loquy. 
 
 The Perinthian, as well as 
 the Andrian, took its name from 
 the place the woman came from; 
 vi7,,Perinthus,atownofThrace. 
 
 * Ntgvius, Plautus, Ennius.'] 
 Thefe poets are not mentioned 
 here in exaft chronological or- 
 der, Ennius being elder than 
 Plautus. The firft author, who 
 brought a regular play on the 
 Roman ftage, is faid to have 
 been Livius Andronicus, about 
 the year of Rome 5 10, and one 
 year befcre the birth of Ennius. 
 Five years after the reprefcnta- 
 
 tion of the firfl play of Andro- 
 nicus, or as fome fay nine, Nx- 
 vius wrote for the ftage. Then 
 followed Ennius, Plautus, Pacu- 
 vius,Caecilius,PorciusLicinius, 
 Terence, and his cotemporary 
 and adverfary Lucius Larinius, 
 Accius, Afranius, &c. Of all 
 thefe, many of whom were very 
 eminent writers, wehavefcarce 
 any remains, except of Plautus 
 and Terence : and what is ftill 
 more to be lamented, the inefti- 
 mablc Greek Authors, whofe 
 writings were the rich fource, 
 whence they drew their fable, 
 characters, &c. are alfo irreco- 
 verably loft; 
 
 THE
 
 THE 
 
 A N D R I A N. 
 
 * * 
 
 ****** ** ******************** **** ****** 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 SIMO, SOSI A, and Servants with Prc-ri/ions. 
 
 A R R Y thofe things in: go! [Ex. Serv*~ 
 Sofia, come here; 
 A Word with you ! 
 
 * Exeunt Servants.'] The want 
 of marginal directions, however 
 trifling they may at firil fight 
 appear, has occasioned, as it 
 necefTarily muft, much confufi- 
 on and obfcurity in fcveral paf- 
 fages of the antient Dramatick 
 Writers : and is a defect in the 
 manufcripts, and old editions 
 of thofe authors in the learned 
 languages, which has in vain 
 been attempted to be fupplied 
 by long notes of laborious com- 
 mentators, and delineations of 
 the figures of the characters 
 employed in each fcene. This 
 fimple method of illustrating 
 the dialogue, and rendering it 
 clear and intelligible to the moft 
 ordinary reader, I propofe to 
 perfue throughout this tranfla- 
 tion : And 1 cannot better en- 
 force the utility of this practice, 
 than bv a fe,v extracts from a 
 
 very ingenious treatife on Dra- 
 matick Poetry, written inFrench 
 by Monf. Diderot, and annexe 
 to his Play, called the Father 
 of a Family. 
 
 " The Pantomime is a part of 
 the Drama, to which the au- 
 thor ought to pay the moft feri- 
 ous attention : for if it is not 
 always prefcnt to him, he can 
 neither begin, nor conduct, nor 
 end a fcene according to truth 
 and nature ; and the action 
 fhould frequently be written 
 down inftead of dialogue. 
 
 " The Pantomime mould be 
 written down, whenever it 
 creates a picture ; whenever it 
 gives energy, or clearnefs, or 
 connection to the Dialogue ; 
 whenever it paints character ; 
 whenever it confifts in a deli- 
 cate play, which the reader can- 
 not himfelf fupply ; whenever 
 it
 
 THE ANDRIAN. 
 
 Sofia. I underftand: that thefe 
 Be ta'en due care of.* 
 
 Simo. Quite another thing. 
 
 So/ta. What can my art do more for you ? 
 
 Simo. This bufinefs 
 
 Needs not that art-, but thofe good qualities, 
 Which I have ever known abide in you, 
 Fidelity and fecrecy. 
 
 Sofia. I wait 
 Your pleafure. 
 
 Simo. Since I bought you, from a boy 
 How jufl and mild a fervitude you've pafs'd 
 With me, you're confcious: from a purchas'd flave 
 I made you free, becaufe you (erv'd me freely : 
 The greateft recompence I cou'd beftow. 
 
 Sofia. I do remember. 
 
 it (lands in the place of an an- 
 fsver ; and almoft always at the 
 beginning of a fcene. 
 
 ' Whether a poet has 'writ- 
 ten down the Pantomime or not, 
 it is eafy to difcover at firfl 
 fight, whether he has compofed 
 after it. The conduft of the 
 piece will not be the fame ; the 
 fcenes will have another turn ; 
 the Dialogue will relimof it." 
 
 Moliere, as this ingenious 
 Critick obferves, has always 
 written down the Pantomime (as 
 hephrafes it) and Terence feems 
 plainly to have had it always in 
 
 his view, and to have paid a 
 conftant attention to it in his 
 compofition, though he has not 
 fet it down in words. 
 
 * He taen due care of.] Nempe 
 ut curentur rette hac. Madam 
 Dacier will have it, that Simo 
 here makes life of a kitchen-term 
 in the word curentur. I believe 
 it rather means to take care of 
 any thing generally ; and at the 
 concluiion of this very fcene, 
 Sofia ufes the word again fpeak- 
 ing of things very foreign to 
 cookery. Sat eft, CUR A BO. 
 
 Simo.
 
 THEANDRIAN. 3 
 
 Simo. Nor do I repent. 
 
 Sofia. If I have ever done, or now do aught 
 That's pleafmg to you, Simo, I am glad, 
 And thankful that you hold my fervice good. 
 And yet this troubles me : for this detail, 
 Forcing your kindnefs on my memory, 
 Seems to reproach me of ingratitude.* 
 Oh tell me then at once, what wou'd you, Sir? 
 
 Sim. I will j and this I muft advife you firft : 
 The nuptial you fuppofe preparing now, 
 Is all unreal. 
 
 Sofia. Why pretend it then ? 
 
 Simo. You mall hear all from firft to laft: f and thus 
 
 * Seems to reproach me of in- opening his mind to Francifco. 
 gratitude.] There is a beauti- The Englifh Poet has with 
 ful paflage in theDukeof Milan great addrefs transferred the 
 of Maflinger very fimilar to the fentiment from the inferior to 
 above. The fituations of the the fuperior character, which 
 perfons are fomewhat alike, certainly adds to its delicacy. 
 Sforza being on the point of 
 
 Sforza. I have ever foucd you true and thankful, 
 Which makes me love the building I have rais'd, 
 In your advancement ; and repent no grace, 
 I have conferr'd upon you : And believe me, 
 Tho' now I mould repeat my favours to you, 
 It is not to upbraid you ; but to tell you, 
 I find you're worthy of them, in your love 
 And fervice to me. 
 
 f You Jhall hear all, csV.] more fwiftnefs or noife than 
 
 *' Terence ftands alone in that which it derives from its 
 
 every thing, but efpecially in courfe and the ground it runs 
 
 his narrations. It is a pure over. No wit, no difplay of 
 
 and tranfparent ftream which fentiment, not a fentence that 
 
 flows always evenly, with no wears an epigrammatical air,
 
 4 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 The conduft of my fon, my own intent, 
 
 And what part you're to aft, you'll know at once. 
 
 For my fon, Sofia, now to manhood grown, * 
 
 Had freer fcope of living : for before 
 
 How might you know, or how indeed divine 
 
 His difpofition, good, or ill, while youth, 
 
 Fear, and a mafter, all conftrain*d him ? 
 
 Sofia. True. 
 
 Simo. Though moft, as is the bent of youth, apply 
 Their mind to fome one object, horfes, hounds, 
 Or to the ftudy of philofophy ; f 
 Yet none of thefe, beyond the reft, did he 
 
 none of thofe definitions al- 
 ways out of place, except in 
 Nicole or Rochefoucault. When 
 lie generalizes a maxim, it is 
 In fo fimple and popular a man- 
 ner, you would believe it to 
 be a common proverb which he 
 has quoted : Nothing but what 
 belongs to the fubjeclt. I have 
 read this poet over and ovpr 
 with attention ; there are in 
 him no fuperfluous fcenes, nor 
 any thing fuperfluous in the 
 fcenes." DIDEROT. 
 
 This being the firft narration 
 in our author, and exceedingly 
 beautiful, I could not help 
 franfcribing the foregoing paf- 
 fage from the French Treatife 
 abovementioned. The narra- 
 tions in the Greek Tragedies 
 have been long and jutfly ad- 
 4 
 
 mired ; and from this and 
 many other parts of Terence, 
 taken from Greek authors, wfi 
 may fairly conclude that their 
 Comedies were equally excel- 
 lent in that particular. 
 
 * Noiu to manhood grown.-} 
 Pojiquam excejpt f.*Ephebis. The 
 Ephebia was the firft ftage of 
 youth, and youth the laft ftage 
 of boyhood. DONATUS. 
 
 t Or to tkt ftudy of philofophy . J 
 It was at that age that the: 
 Greeks applied themfelves to 
 the ftudy of philofophy, and 
 chofe out fome particular feft, 
 to which they attached them- 
 felves. Plato's Dialogues give 
 us a fufficient infight into that 
 cuiiom. DACIER. 
 
 Perfue ;
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 5 
 
 Perfue; and yet, in moderation, all. 
 I was o*erjoy'd. 
 
 Sofia. And not without good caufe. 
 For this I hold to be the Golden Rule 
 Of Life, Too much of one Thing's good for nothing.* 
 
 Simo. So did he mape his life to bear himfelf 
 With eafe and frank good-humour unto all j 
 Mixt in what company foe'er, to them 
 He wholly did refign himfelf; complied 
 With all their humours, checking nobody, 
 Nor e'er affuming to himfelf : and thus 
 With eafe, and free from envy, may you gain 
 Praife, and conciliate friends. 
 
 Sofia. He rul'd his life 
 By prudent maxims : for, as times go now, 
 Compliance raifes friends, and truth breeds hate. 
 
 Simo. Meanwhile, 'tis now about three years ago,f 
 
 * Too much of one thing s good very next time he opens his 
 
 fir nothing.'] Ne quid niwis. A mouth, he utters another. I 
 
 fentiment not unbecoming a thought it neceffary therefore, 
 
 fervant, becaufe it is common, for the fake of the prefervation 
 
 and is therefore not put into the of character, to tranflate this 
 
 mouth of the matter. DONA- antient proverb by one of our 
 
 TUS. own, though themodern maxim 
 
 Though the Commentators is not expreft with equal ele- 
 
 are full of admiration of this gance. 
 
 golden faying, Do nothing f 'Tis now about three Yean 
 
 to excefs," yet it is plain that ago .] The mention of thisdif- 
 
 Terence introduces it here as a tance of time is certainly artful, 
 
 char after ifiick fentiment. Sofia a s it affords time for all the 
 
 is a dealer in old fayings. The events, previous to the open- 
 
 ing
 
 THE AN BRIAN. 
 
 A certain woman from the ifle of Andros 
 Came o'er to fettle in this neighbourhood, 
 By poverty and cruel kindred driv'n : 
 Handfome and young. 
 
 Sofia. Ah ! I begin to fear 
 Some mifchief from this Andrian. 
 
 Simo. At firft 
 
 Modeft and thriftily, tho* poor, me liv'd, f 
 With her own hands a homely livelihood 
 Scarce earning from the diftaff and the loom, 
 But when a lover came with promis'd gold, 
 Another, and another, as the mind 
 Falls eafily from labour to delight, 
 She took their offers, and fet up the trade. 
 
 ing of the piece, to have hap- 
 pened with the ftrifteft proba- 
 bility. The comment of Do- 
 natus on this paflage is curi- 
 ous. 
 
 "The author hath artfully 
 faid three years, when he might 
 have given a longer or a fhorter 
 period. Since it is probable 
 that the woman might have 
 lived modeftly one year ; fet up 
 the trade,' the next ; and died, 
 the third. In the firft year, there- 
 fore, Pamphilus knew nothing 
 of the, family of Chryfis ; in 
 the fccond.he became acquaint- 
 ed with Glycerium ; and in the 
 third, Glycerium marries Pam- 
 3 
 
 philus, and finds her parents." 
 DONATUS. 
 
 f Modeft and thriftily, fcfc.] 
 It is abfolutely neceflary that 
 the reputation of Glycerium 
 fhould be fuppofed to be fpot- 
 lefs and unblemimed : and as 
 fhe could never be made an koneft 
 woman, if it were not clear that 
 fhe was fo before marriage, 
 Chryfis, with whom me lived, 
 is partly to be defended, partly 
 to be praifed ; whom although 
 it is neceflary to confefs to be a 
 courtezan, yet her behaviour is 
 rendered as excufable as fuch a 
 circum-ftance will admit. DO- 
 
 NATUS. 
 
 They,
 
 THEANDRIAN. 7 
 
 They, who were then her chief gallants, by chance 
 Drew thither, as oft happens with young men, 
 My fon to join their company. " So, fo !" 
 Said I within myfelf, " he's fmit ! he has it!"* 
 And in the morning as I faw their fervants 
 Run to and fro, I'd often call, " Here, Boy ! 
 " Prithee now, who had Chryfis yefterday ?" 
 The name of this fame Andrian. 
 
 Sofia. I take you. 
 
 Simo. Phasdrus they faid, Clinia, or Niceratus, 
 For all thefe three then follow'd her.- " Well, well, 
 *< But what of Pamphilus ?" " Of Pamphilus ! 
 " He fupt, and paid his reck'ning." I was glad. 
 Another day I made the like enquiry, 
 But ftill found nothing touching Pamphilus. 
 Thus I believ'd his virtue prov'd, and hence 
 Thought him a miracle of continence : 
 For he who ftruggles with fuch fpirits, yet 
 Holds in that commerce an unfhaken mind, 
 May well be trufted with the governance 
 Of his own conduit. Nor was I alone 
 Delighted with his life,-f- but all the world 
 
 * He s fmit ! be has it /] Captus tjl, balet. Terms taken froth the 
 Gladiators. DACIER. 
 
 f But all the ivcrld, &V.] I Agoniftes of Milton, which 
 There is a beautiful fentiment feems to be partly borrowed 
 uttered byManoa in the Samfon I from this paflage in our author. 
 I gaiu'd a fon, 
 And fuch a fon, as all men hail'd me happy j ' 
 Who would be now a Father in my ftead ! 
 
 With
 
 35 T H E A N D R I A N, 
 
 Vv T ith one accord faid all good things, and prais'd 
 My happy fortunes, who poffeft a fon 
 So good, fo lib'rally difpos'd. In fliort, 
 Chremes, feduc'd by this fine character, 
 Came of his own accord, to offer me 
 His only daughter with a handfome portion 
 In marriage with my fon. I lik'd the match : 
 Betroth'd my fon ; and this was pitch'd upon, 
 By joint agreement, for the Wedding-Day. 
 
 Sofia. And what prevents it's being fo ? 
 
 Simo. I'll tell you, 
 In a few days, the treaty ftill on foot, 
 This neighbour Chryfis dies. 
 
 Sofia. In happy hour ; 
 Happy for you ! I was afraid of Chryfis. 
 
 Simo. My fon, on this event, was often there 
 With thofe who were the late gallants of Chryfis > 
 Aflifted to prepare the funeral, 
 Ever condoi'd, and fometimes wept with them. 
 This pleas'd me then ; for in myfelf I thought, 
 " * Since merely for a fmaD acquaintance-fake 
 
 * Since merely, t3c.~\ 'Tis Valentine inTwclfth-Night re- 
 grange, the Criticks have never ports the inconquerable grief of 
 discovered a fimilar fentiment Olivia for the lofs of a brother, 
 to this in Shakefpeare. When the Duke obferves upon it, 
 
 Oh, /he that hath a heart of that fine frame 
 
 To pay this debt of love but to a brother, 
 
 How will She love, when the rich golden fliaft 
 
 Hath kill'd the flock of all affeftions elfc 
 
 That live in her ? 
 
 Com-
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 9 
 
 " He takes this woman's death fo nearly, what 
 
 " If he himfelf had lov'd ? What wou'd he feel 
 
 " For me, his father ?" All thefe things, I thought, 
 
 Were but the tokens and the offices 
 
 Of a humane and tender diipofition. 
 
 In Ihort, on his account, e'en I myfelf * 
 
 Attend the funeral, fufpecting yet 
 
 No harm. 
 
 Sofia. And what -- 
 
 Simo. You mail hear all. The Corpfe 
 Born forth, we follow : when among the women, 
 Attending there, I chanc'd to ca my eyes 
 Upon one girl, in form 
 
 Sofia. Not bad, perhaps. 
 
 Simo. And look; fo modelt, and fo beauteous, Sofia! 
 That nothing cou'd exceed it. As me feein'd 
 To grieve beyond the reft-, and as her air 
 Appeared more liberal and ingenuous, 
 I went, and afk'd her women, who me was. 
 Sifter, they faid, to Chryfis : when at once 
 It ftruckmy mind; "So! fo! the fecret's out; 
 " Hence were thofe tears, and hence all that companion!" 
 
 Common fenfe direfts us, for quifitions of needy Art, but as 
 the moft part, to regard Re- the honeft fruits of Genius, the 
 femllances in great writers, not free and liberal bounties of Un- 
 as the pilferings, or frugal ac- envying Nature. 
 
 KURD'* Diffour/e on Poetical Imitation. 
 
 * I myfelf, fcff.] A com- funeral of a courtezan, mercljr 
 
 plaifant father, to go to the to oblige his fon. COOKE. 
 
 VOL. L C
 
 io T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 Sofia. Alas ! I fear how this affair will end! 
 
 Simo. Meanwhile the funeral proceeds: we follow; 
 Come to the fepulchre : the Body's plac'd 
 Upon the pile; lamented: Whereupon 
 This Sifter, I was fpeaking of, all wild, 
 Ran to the flames with peril of her life. 
 Then ! there ! the frighted Pamphilus betrays 
 His well-difiembled and long-hidden love : 
 Runs up, and takes her round the waift, and cries, 
 " Oh my Glycerium ! what is it you do ? 
 " Why, why endeavour to deftroy yourfelf ?" 
 Then fhe, in fuch a manner, that you thence 
 Might eafily perceive their long, long, love, 
 Threw herfelf back into his arms, and wept 
 Oh how familiarly ! * 
 
 * Having introduced this nar- " may fometimes be expedient -. 
 
 ration with a general Eulogium " but it is often extremely pre- 
 
 on the narrations of our Author " judicial to a narrative; not 
 
 by a moft judicious French " only as it renders it obfcure; 
 
 Critick, it may not be impro- " but as it takes off that air of 
 
 per at the conclufion of this " eafe and chearfulnefs, and 
 
 particular narration, to produce " force of perfuafion, which are 
 
 the teftimony of Cicero in its " the chief properties of a nar- 
 
 favour. " rative. In Terence for in- 
 
 " If brevity confifts in ufing " fiance, how minute and par- 
 
 ** no more words than are ab- " ticular is that narration, 
 
 " folutely necefiary, fuch a ftile * which commences with, 
 
 For my fon, Sofia, now to manhood grown, &c. ! 
 
 " The manners of the Youth " the look, and figure, and 
 " himfelf, the cnriofity of the " grief of the Sifter, are drawn 
 " SlaTe, the death of Chryfis, " ?.t full length, and in the 
 
 moft
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. ji 
 
 Sofia. How fay you ! 
 
 Sitno. I 
 
 Return in anger thence, and hurt at heart, 
 Yet had not caufe fufEcient for reproof. 
 " What have I done? he'd fay: or how deferv'd 
 " Reproach ? or how offended, Father ? Her, 
 " Who meant to caft herfelf into the flames, 
 " I ftopt." A fair excufe ! 
 
 Sofia. You're in the right:* 
 For him, who fav'd a life, if you reprove, 
 What will you do to him that offers wrong ? 
 
 Simo. Chremes next day came open-mouth'd to me : 
 Oh monftrous ! he had found that Pamphilus 
 Was married to this Stranger- Woman, f I 
 
 " mod agreeable colours. But " affec~led a brevity like that of 
 
 " if he had, through the whole, " the following paflage, 
 " Meanwhile the funeral proceeds ; we follow ; 
 " Come to the fepulchre : the body's plac'd 
 " Upon the pile ; 
 
 " the whole might have been " fperfe it with fpeeches; and 
 
 ' comprifcd in little more than " the fac~litfelf receives a greater 
 
 ' ten fhort verfes : and yet in " air of probability, when you 
 
 1 thefe very exprellions, the " relate rhe manner in which it 
 
 ' fur.sral proceeds ; we follow ; *' patted." 
 
 ' concife as they are, the poet Dt Oratore, Lib. II. 8 1. 
 ' was rather ftudious of beauty, 
 
 than brevity. For had there Tou re tn . th < "&'} N ,' 
 
 been nothing more than, tb, th.ug can mark the flat fimph- 
 
 < M^plaSduptn tbepih, the "ty of Sofia;s charaaer ftronger 
 
 whole might have been clear- han the "^ 1 of thl$ 
 
 ly underflood : but it enli- 
 
 vens a narration to mark it 
 
 with characters, and inter- Woman.] The Greeks and 
 
 C 2 Romans
 
 12 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 Deny the fact moft fleadily, and he 
 As fteadily infifts. In Jhort we part 
 On fuch bad terms, as let me underftand 
 He wou'd refufe his daughter. 
 
 Sofia. Did not you 
 Then take your fon to tafk ? 
 
 Simo. Not even this 
 Appear'd fufficient for reproof. 
 
 Sofia. How fo ? 
 
 Simo. " Father,(he might have faid) you have, you know> 
 " Prefcrib'd a term to all thefe things yourfelf. 
 " The time is near at hand, when I muft live 
 " According to the humour of another. 
 " Meanwhile, permit me now to pleafe my own !" 
 
 Sofia. What caufe remains to chide him then 1 
 
 Simo. If he 
 
 Refufes, on account of this amour, 
 To take a wife, fuch obftinate denial 
 Muft be confidered as his firft offence. 
 Wherefore I now, from this mock-nuptial, 
 Endeavour to draw real caufe to chide : 
 And that fame rafcal Davus, if he's plotting, 
 That he may let his couniel run to wafte, 
 
 Romans made ufe of this ex- that fenfe in the books of the 
 
 preffion to fignify a Courtezan ; Old Teftament. DACIER. 
 
 and I believe they borrowed Donatus feems to think the 
 
 that term from the people of word ufed here merely as a con- 
 
 the eaft j as we find it ufed in temptuous expreflion. 
 
 Now,
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 13 
 
 Now, when his knaveries can do no harm : 
 Who, I believe, with all his might and main 
 Will firive to crofs my purpofes -, and that 
 More to plague me, than to oblige my fon. 
 
 Sofia. Why fo ? 
 
 Simo. Why fo! Bad mind, bad heart: * But if 
 I catch him at his tricks! But what need words ? 
 If, as I wifh it may, it Ihou'd appear 
 That Pamphilus objects not to the match, 
 Chremes remains to be prevail'd upon, 
 And will, I hope, confent. 'Tis now your place 
 To counterfeit thefe nuptials cunningly ; 
 To frighten Davus ; and obferve my fon, 
 What he's about, what plots they hatch together. 
 
 Sofia. Enough i I'll take due care. Let's now go in ! 
 
 Simo. Go firft; I'll follow you. [Exit Sofia, f 
 
 * Bad mind, bad heart."] Mala 
 mens l malus animus. Animus, the 
 heart, conceives the bad aftions, 
 and Menst the mind, devifes the 
 means of carrying them into ex- 
 ecution. DACIER. 
 
 f Exit Sofia.] Here we take 
 our laft leave of Sofia, who is, 
 in the language of the Commen- 
 tators, a ProtalickPerfonage,\h'a\. 
 is, as Donatus explains it, one 
 who appears only once in the 
 beginning (the Protafes) of the 
 piece, for the fake of unfolding 
 the argument, and is never feen 
 
 in any part of the play. The 
 narration being ended, fays Do- 
 natus, the character of Sofia is 
 no longer neceflary. He there- 
 fore departs, and leaves Simo 
 alone to carry on the aftion. 
 With all due deference to the 
 antients, I cannot help think- 
 ing this method, if too con- 
 ftantly praftifed, as I think it 
 is in our author, rather inartifi- 
 cial. Narration, however beauti- 
 ful, is certainly the deadeft pare 
 of theatrical compofitions ; it is 
 indeed, ftridlly fpeaking, fcarce 
 Dramatick, and itrikes the lead
 
 i 4 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 Beyond all doubt 
 
 My fon's averfe to take a wife : I faw 
 How frighten'd Davus was, but even now, 
 When he was told a nuptial was preparing. 
 But here he comes. 
 
 in the reprcfentation : and the 
 too frequent introduction of a 
 chara&er, to whom a principal 
 perfon in the Fable is to relate 
 in confidence the circumflances 
 previous to the opening of the 
 Play, is furely too diredl a man- 
 ner of conveying that informa- 
 tion to the audience. Every 
 thing of this nature mould come 
 obliquely, fallin a manner by ac- 
 cident, or be drawn, as it were, 
 perforce, from the parties con- 
 cerned, in the cotrrfe of the acti- 
 on: a pra&ice, which if reckon- 
 ed highly beautiful inEpick,may 
 be almoft fet down as abfolute- 
 ly neceffary in DramatickPoetry. 
 It is, however, more advifeable 
 even to feem tedious, than to 
 hazard being obfcure. Terence 
 certainly opens his plays with 
 great addrefs, and afligns a 
 probable reafon for one of the 
 parties being fo communicative 
 to the other ; and yet it is too 
 plain that this narration is made 
 merely for the fake of the audi- 
 ence, fince there never was a 
 duller hearer than Mafter Sofia, 
 and it never appears in the fe- 
 qucl of the Play, that Simo's 
 
 inftru&ions to him are of the 
 leaft ufe to frighten Davus, or 
 work upon Pamphilus. Yet 
 even this Protatick Perfonage is 
 one of the inftances of Terence's 
 art, fince it was often ufual in 
 the Roman Comedy, as may be 
 feen even in Plautus, to make 
 the relationof the argument the 
 exprefs office of the Prologue. 
 
 Sir Richard Steelehas opened 
 the Confcious Lovers in direcl: 
 imitation of the Andrian, but 
 has unfolded the argument with 
 much lels art, as will perhaps 
 appear in thecourfeof the notes 
 on this aft. In this place it is 
 fufficient to obferve, that the 
 delineation of the characters in 
 the Englifh author is infinitely 
 inferior to that of thofe in the 
 Roman. Simo is the moft fi- 
 nifhed character in the play. Sir 
 John Bevil, I fear, is but an 
 infignificant perfonage. Hum- 
 phry, while he has all the 
 plainncfs and dullnefs of Sofia, 
 poflefles neither his fidelity nor 
 fecrecy ; for he goes between 
 the father and the fon, and in 
 fome mcafure betrays both. 
 
 SCENE
 
 THEANDRIAN. if 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Enter D A V U S.* 
 
 Davus to bimfelf. 1 I thought 'twere wonderful 
 If this affair went off fo eafily ; 
 And dreaded where my matter's great good-humour 
 Wou'd end at laft: Who, after he perceiv'd 
 The Lady was refus'd, ne'er faid a word 
 To any of us, nor e'er took it ill. 
 
 Simo, behind.'] But now he will; to your coft too, I 
 warrant you ! 
 
 Davus. This was his fcheme ; to lead us by the nofe 
 In a falie dream of joy i then all agape 
 With hope, even then that we were mod fecure, 
 To have o'erwhelm'd us, nor allow'd us time 
 To caft about which way to break the match. 
 Cunning old Gentleman ! 
 
 Simo. What fays the Rogue ? 
 
 Davus. My matter, and I did not fee him ! 
 
 Simo. Davus ! 
 
 Davus. Well! what now? [pretending not to fee him. 
 
 Simo. Here! this way! 
 
 Davus. What can he want? [to bimfelf. 
 , overbearing.'] What fay you ? 
 
 Sir Richard Steele elegance and humour in his 
 has modernized the characters fprightlyFootman and Chamber- 
 of Davus and Myfis with great maid, Tom and Phillis. 
 
 C 4 Dai'ttf,
 
 AS THEANDRIAN, 
 
 Davits. Upon what, Sir ? 
 
 &'w7. Upon what! 
 The world reports that my fon keeps a miftrefs. 
 
 Davus. Oh, to be fure,the world cares much for that, 
 
 Simo. D'ye mind what I fay, Sirrah ? 
 
 Davus,. Nothing more, Sir. 
 
 Simo. But for me now to dive into thefe matters 
 May feem perhaps like too fevere a father : 
 For all his youthful pranks concern not me, 
 While 'twas in feafon, he had my free leave 
 To take his fwing of pleafure. But to-day 
 Brings on another flage of life, and afks 
 For other manners : wherefore I defire, 
 Or, if you pleafe, I do befeech you, Davus, 
 To fet him right again, [ironically. 
 
 Davus. What means all this ? 
 
 Simo. All, who are fond of miftrefifes, cUfiikq 
 The thoughts of matrimony. 
 
 Davys. So they fay. 
 
 Simo. And then, if fuch a perfon entertains 
 An evil counfellor in thofe affairs, 
 He tampers with the mind, and makes bad worfe. 
 Davus. Troth, I don't comprehend one word of this, 
 Simo. No? 
 
 &avus. No. I'm Davus, and not Oedipus. 
 Simo. Then for the reft I have to fay to you, 
 You chufe I mould fpeak plainly ?
 
 THEANDRIAN: 17 
 
 Davus. By all means. 
 
 Simo. If I difcover then, that in this match 
 You get to your dog's tricks to break it off, 
 Or try to fhew how Ihrewd a rogue you are, 
 I'll have you beat to mummy, and then thrown 
 * In prifon, Sirrah F upon this condition, 
 That when I take you out again, I fwear 
 To grind there in your Head. D'ye take me now ? 
 Or don't you underftand this neither? 
 
 Davus. Clearly. 
 
 You have fpoke out at laft: the very thing! 
 Quite plain and home; and nothing round about. 
 
 Simo. I could excufe your tricks in any thing, 
 Jlather than this, [angrily. 
 
 Davus. Good words ! I beg of you. 
 
 Simo. You laugh at me: well, well! I give you 
 
 warning, 
 
 That you do nothing raflily, nor pretend 
 You was not advertis'd of this Take heed ! [Exit, 
 
 SCENE III. 
 DAVUS. 
 
 -{-Troth, Davus, 'tis high time to look about you ; 
 No room for {loth, as far as I can found 
 
 * In Prifon.'] Te in piflrinum, for flaves, to which they were 
 Dcrve,dedam. The prifon mend- fent to grind corn, as diforderly 
 oned here, and in many other perfons are made to beat hemp 
 paflages of our Author, was a in our Bridewell. 
 Kind of Houfe of Correction f Troth, Davus, &V.] This, 
 
 fays
 
 i8 T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 The fentiments of our old gentleman 
 
 About this marriage; which if not fought off, 
 
 And cunningly, fpoils me, or my poor matter. 
 
 I know not what to do; nor can refolve 
 
 To help the fon, or to obey the father. 
 
 If I defert poor Pamphilus, alas ! 
 
 I tremble for his life ; if I afiift him, 
 
 I dread his father's threats : a Ihrewd old Cuff, 
 
 Not eafily deceiv'd. For firft of all, 
 
 He knows of this amour ; and watches me 
 
 With jealous eyes, left I devife fome trick 
 
 To break the match.' If he difcovers it, 
 
 Woe to poor Davus ! nay, if he's inclin'd 
 
 To punilh me, he'll feize on fome pretence 
 
 To throw me into prifon, right or wrong. 
 
 Another mifchief too, to make bad worfe, 
 
 This Andrian, wife or miftrefs, is with child 
 
 By Pamphilus. And do but mark the height 
 
 Of their afiurance ! for 'tis certainly 
 
 fays Donatus, is a fhort and co- How much more artful is the 
 
 mick deliberation, calculated to conducl of Terence in this place 
 
 excite the attention of the audi- than that of Sir Richard Steele 
 
 ence to the impending events ; in the Confcious Lovers, who 
 
 artfully relating part of the ar- befides the long narration, with 
 
 gament, but in order to prepare which the play opens, has obli- 
 
 the events without anticipating ged ths patient Humphrey to 
 
 them, reprefenting the circum- hear a feccmd itory, with which 
 
 ttances of the ftory as fabulous; he has burthened the conclusion 
 
 and in order toenliven it, pa/ling of his tirft ad, from young Be- 
 
 from dry narration to mimickry. vil. 
 
 5 The
 
 THE A N D R I A N. 19 
 
 * The dotage of mad people, not of lovers. 
 
 Whate'er {he fhall bring forth, they have refolv'd 
 
 f To educate : and have among themfelves 
 
 Devis'd the ftrangeft ftory ! that Glycerium 
 
 Is an Athenian citizen. " There was 
 
 u Once on a time a certain merchant, fhipwreckt 
 
 " Upon the ifle of Andros ; there he died : 
 
 " And Chryfis' father took this Orphan- wreck, 
 
 " Then but an infant, under his protection." 
 
 Ridiculous ! 'tis all romance to me : 
 
 And yet the ftory pleafes them. But fee ! 
 
 Myfis comes forth. But I muft to the Forum J 
 
 To look for Pamphilus, for fear his father 
 
 Should find him firft, and take him unawares. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Enter M Y S I S. [Speaking to a fervant within. 
 
 I hear, Archillis ; I hear what you fay : 
 You beg me to bring Lefbia. By my troth 
 
 * The dotage, &c.] Inceptlo As foon as a child was born, it 
 
 f/?amentium, haud amantmm. A was laid on the ground ; and if 
 
 play upon words, impoffible to the father was willing to edu- 
 
 be exaftly prefcrved in the cate it, he ordered it to be taken 
 
 tranflation. up : but if he faid nothing, it 
 
 f To educate.-} Decrewrunt tol- was a token Signifying that he 
 
 lere. The word tol/ere ftriftly would **ve it expofed. DAC. 
 
 fignifies to take /, and alludes J The Forum.'] The Forum is 
 
 to the cuftom of thofe times, frequently fpoken of in the co- 
 
 mick
 
 20 T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 That Lcfbia is a drunken wretch, hot-headed, 
 
 Nor. worthy to be trufted with a woman 
 
 In her firft labour. Well, well! fhe fhall come. 
 
 Obferve how earnefl the old goflip is, [Coming forward. 
 
 Becaufe this Lefbia is her pot-companion. 
 
 Oh grant my miftrefs, Heav'n, a fafe delivery, 
 
 And let the midwife trefpafs any where 
 
 Rather than here ! But what is it I fee ? 
 
 Pamphilus all diforder'd : How I fear 
 
 The caufe ! I'll wait awhile, that I may know 
 
 If this commotion means us any ill. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 * PAMPHILUS, MYSIS behind. 
 
 Pam. Is this well done? or like a man ? Is this 
 The action of a father ? 
 Myfis. What's the matter ? 
 
 mick authors ; and from vari- Steele falls fhort of Terence in 
 
 ous paflages in which Terence delineating the firft ; and I muit 
 
 mentions it, it may be collected, own, though Bevil is plainly 
 
 that it was a publick place, the moft laboured charafter in 
 
 fervingthefeveralpurpofesofa the Confcious Lovers, I think 
 
 market, the feat of the Courts " much inferior to Pamphilus. 
 
 of Juftice, a publick walk, and The particular differences in 
 
 an Exchange. their charader I propofe to 
 point out in the courfe of thefe 
 
 f Pampbilus.] The two moft notes : at prefent I fhall only 
 
 beautiful characters in this play, obferve in general, that, of the 
 
 in my opinion, are the Father two, Bevil is the more cool and 
 
 and Son. It has already been refined, Pamphilus the more 
 
 ebferved how much Sir Richard natural and pathetick, 
 
 Pam,
 
 THE ANDRIAN. 
 
 21 
 
 Pam. Oh all ye Pow'rs of heav'n and earth, what's 
 
 wrong 
 
 If this is not fo ? If he was determin'd 
 That I to-day mould marry, mould I not 
 Have had fome previous notice ? ought not He 
 To have informed me of it long ago ? 
 
 Myfis. Alas ! what's this I hear ? 
 
 Pam. And Chremes too, 
 
 Who had refus'd to truft me with his daughter, 
 Changes his mind, becaufe I change not mine.* 
 
 which immutatus does not : and 
 thence arifes all the difficulty. 
 Terence certainly ufes the verb 
 immutare both negatively and 
 pofitively, as is plain from this 
 palTage and the above paflage 
 from the Phormio : and I dare 
 fay with ftricl propriety. Incur 
 own language \ve have inflan- 
 ces of the fame word bearing 
 two fenfes diredtly oppofite to 
 each other. The word Let for 
 inftance is ufed in the contra- 
 dictory meanings of permijjion 
 and prohibition. The modern 
 acceptation of the word is in- 
 deed almoil entirely confined to 
 the firft fenfe ; though we fay 
 even at this day without LET or 
 moleftatrcn. Shakefpearein Ham- 
 let, fays, 
 him that lets me. 
 pofed to remove the whole dif- 
 ficulty of this paftage by place- 
 ing a point of interrogation at 
 the end of the lentence, which 
 would 
 
 * Changes his mind, &c."\ Id 
 mutavit, quia me immutatum 
 'videt. The verb immutart in 
 other Latin authors, and even 
 in other parts of Terence him- 
 felf, fignifies to change : as in 
 the Phormio, Antipho faysNon 
 puffum immutarier. " I cannot 
 bt changed." But here the fenfe 
 abfolutely requires that immu- 
 tatum fhould be rendered NOT 
 changed. Madam Dacier en- 
 deavours to reconcile this, ac- 
 cording to a conjeclure of her 
 father's, by fliewing that im- 
 mutatut Hands for immutalilis ; 
 as immotus for immziilis, iniiiflus 
 for in<vincibilis, &C. But thefe 
 examples do not remove the 
 difficulty; fincethofeparticiples 
 always bear a negative fenfe, 
 I'll make a Ghoft of 
 that is, flops, prevents, hinders 
 me, which is direclly oppofite 
 to the modern ufe of the word. 
 
 It has been ingenioufly pro-
 
 22 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 Can he then be fo obftinately bent 
 
 To tear me from Glycerium ? To lofe Her 
 
 Is lofing life. Was ever man fo croft > 
 
 So curd as I ? Oh Pow'rs of heav'n and earth \ 
 
 Can I by no means fly from this alliance 
 
 With Chremes* family ? fo oft contemn'd 
 
 And held in fcorn ! all done, concluded all ! 
 
 Rejected, then recall'd: and why? unlefs 
 
 For fo I muft fufpecl:,* they breed fome monfter > 
 
 Whom as they can obtrude on no one elfe, 
 
 They bring to me. 
 
 Myfis. Alas, alas ! this fpeech 
 Has ftruck me almoft dead with fear. 
 
 Paw. And then 
 
 My father ! what to fay of Him ? Oh fhame ! 
 A thing of fo much confequence to treat 
 So negligently ! For but even now 
 Faffing me in the Forum, " Pamphilus ! 
 " To-day's your wedding-day, faid He : Prepare , 
 " Go, get you home !" This founded in my ears 
 As if he faid, " Go, hang yourfelf !" I flood 
 
 would preferve the ufual im- and fome others imagine thefe 
 
 port of the word immutatum : words to fignify fome plot that 
 
 but this, I think, would take is hatching. Donatus and the 
 
 from the force and energy of Commentators on him interpret 
 
 the fpeech, and would fcarce them'as referring to the woman, 
 
 agree with the fenfe of the fen- which is the fenfe I have fol- 
 
 tence immediately following. lowed ; and I think the next 
 
 Tty Irted / monger.] kntence confirms this interpre- 
 
 mor.Jlri alunt. Dacier tation. 
 
 Con-
 
 THEANDRIAN. 23 
 
 Confounded. Think you I could fpeak one word? 
 Or offer an excufe, how weak foe'er ? 
 No, I was dumb: and had I been aware, 
 Should any afk what I'd have done, I would, 
 Rather than this, do any thing. But now 
 What to refolve upon ? So many cares 
 Entangle me at once, and rend my mind, 
 Pulling it diff'rent ways. My love, companion, 
 This urgent match, my rev'rence for my father, 
 Who yet has ever been fo gentle to me, 
 And held fo flack a rein upon my pleafures. 
 And I oppofe him? Racking thought ! Ah me! 
 I know not what to do. 
 
 Myfis. Alas, I fear 
 
 Where this uncertainty will end. 'Twere befl 
 He fhould confer with Her -, or I at leaft 
 Speak touching her to Him. For while the mind * 
 
 ' For luhile the mind t &c.~\ weight, which while it is yrt 
 
 Dura in dubio eft animus, paulo unfixt, and hangs in fufpencc, 
 
 momenta hue illuc impellitiir. Da- is driven by the flighted touch 
 
 cier thinks that thefe words al- here or there. In the beautiful 
 
 lude to fcales, which fenfe I ftory of Myrrha in Ovid's Me- 
 
 have adopted in the tranflation ; tamorphofes, there is a paffage, 
 
 but I rather think with Donatus which theCommentatorsfuppofe 
 
 that they refer to any great to be an imitation of thisfeutence. 
 
 Utque fecuri 
 
 Saucia trabs ingens, ubi plaga noviffima reftat, 
 
 Quo cadat, in dubio (ft, oranique a parte timetur; 
 
 Sic aniir.ui vario labefa&us vulnere nutat 
 
 Hue levis atque illuc, tnomentaque famit utroque. 
 
 Han 23
 
 24 T Ii E A N D R I A N. 
 
 Hangs in fufponce, a trifle turns the fcale. 
 
 Pam. Who's there? what, Myfis! Save you! 
 
 Myfis. Save you ! Sir. [Coming forwards.- 
 
 Pam. How does fhe ? 
 
 Myfis. How ! oppreft with wretchednefs. * 
 -To-day fupremely wretched, as to-day 
 Was formerly appointed for your wedding. 
 And then fhe fears left you defert her. 
 
 Pam. I! 
 
 Defert. her ? Can I think on't ? or deceive 
 A wretched maid, who trufted to my care 
 Her life and honour ! Her, whom I have held 
 Near to my heart, and cherifh'd as my wife ? 
 Or leave her modeft and well-nurtur'd mind 
 Through want to be corrupted ? Never, never. 
 
 Myfis. No doubt, did it depend on you alone ; 
 But if conftrain'd 
 
 Pam. D'ye think me then fo vile ? 
 Or fo ungrateful, fo inhuman, favage, 
 Neither long intercourfe, nor love, nor fhame, 
 
 * Qppreji with wctcbcdnffi.'] immediately fubfequent corro- 
 
 Laborat e dolore. Though the borate this interpretation : and 
 
 word lalorat has tempted Do- at the conclufion of the fcene, 
 
 jiatus and the reft of the Com- when Myfis tells him, (he is 
 
 rnentators to fuppofe that this going for a midwife, Pamphil us 
 
 fentence fignified Glycerium's hurries her away as he would 
 
 being in labour, I cannot help naturally have done here, had 
 
 concurring with Cooke, that it he underftood by thefe words, 
 
 means fimply, that fhe is weigh- that her miftrefs was in labour, 
 ed down with grief. The words 
 
 4 Can
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 25 
 
 Can move my foul, or make rrie keep my faith ? 
 
 Myfis. I only know, my miftrefs \vell deferves 
 You mould remember her. 
 
 Pam. Remember her ? 
 Oh, Myfis, Myfis ! even at this hour, 
 The words of Chryfis touching my Glycerium 
 Are written in my heart. On her death-bed 
 She call'd me. I approach'd her. You retir'd. 
 We were alone -, and Chryfis thus began. 
 " My Pamphilus, you fee the youth and beauty 
 " Of this unhappy maid : and well you know, 
 " Thefe are but feeble guardians to preferve 
 " Her fortune or her fame. By this right hand 
 " I do befeech you, by your better angel,* 
 *' By your tried faith, by her forlorn condition, 
 " I do conjure you, put her not away, 
 " Nor leave her to diftrefs ! If I have ever, 
 " As my own brother, lov'd you ; or if She 
 " Has ever held You dear 'bove all the world, 
 " And ever fhewn obedience to your will 
 " I do bequeath you to her as a hufband, 
 
 * By your better angel.} Per and there is a pafTage in Horace, 
 
 Genium tuum. Maft editors give plainly imitated from this in 
 
 I".gcnlum: but as Bentley ob- our author, where the meafure 
 
 fervzs, this [per Genium] was infallibly determines the read- 
 
 the moft ufual way of adjuring ; ing. 
 
 Quod te per Centum Dextrar,:$ut Deofque Penates, 
 Obfecro, etobteftor. 
 
 Hor. L. i. Ep. 7. COOKE. 
 
 VOL. I. D " Friend,
 
 .i6 THE A N D R I A N. 
 
 " Friend, Guardian, Father : All our little wealth 
 " To you I leave, and trull it to your care." 
 She join'd our hands, and died. I did receive her, 
 And once receiv'd will keep her. * 
 
 Myfis. So we truft. 
 
 Pam. What make you from her ? 
 
 Myfis. Going for a widv/ife. -\ 
 
 * How much more affefting entirely referved for Indiana 
 is this fpeech, th:;o B.evil's dry herfelf in the fcene with her fa- 
 detail to Humphry of his meet- thcr. 
 
 ing with Indiana ! a detail the There is a palpable imitation 
 
 more heedlefs 'arid inartificial, of this beautiful fpeech in the 
 
 as it might with much more Orphan of Otway; 
 propriety and pathos have been 
 
 Chamont. When our dear Parents died, they died together, 
 One fate furpriz'd them, and one grave receiv'd them : 
 My father with his dying breath bequeath'd 
 Her to my love : My mother, as fhe lay 
 Languifhing by him, call'd me to her .fide, 
 Took me in her fainting arms, wept, and embraced me - t 
 Then preft me clofe, and as fhe obferv'd my tears, 
 Kifl them away : Said fhe, Chamont, my fon, 
 By th'is, and all the love I ever fliew'd thee, 
 Be careful of Monimia, watch her youth. 
 Let not her wants betray her to difhonour. 
 Perhaps kind heav'n may raife fome friend then figh'd, 
 Kift me again ; fo bleft us, ar.d expir'd. 
 
 j- Going for a midwife.'] glancing at once onTercnce rr.d 
 .Methinks Myfis has loitered a the ladies, is, I think, very ill- 
 little too much, confidering her founded. The delay of Myfis, 
 errand ; but perhaps Terence on feeing the emotion of Pam- 
 knew, that fome women would phiius, is very natural ; and 
 goffip on the way, though on her artful endeavours to intereft 
 an affair of life and death, his pnffions in favour of her 
 COOKE. m'ftrefs, are rather marks of 
 
 This two-edged reflexion, her attention, than neglect. 
 
 Pam.
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 27 
 
 Pam. Hafte then ! and hark, be fure takefpecial heed, 
 You mention not a word about the marriage, 
 Left this too give her pain. 
 
 Myjis. I underftand. .* 
 
 ACT II. S C E N E L 
 
 CHARINUS, BYRRKIA. 
 
 T TOW, Byrrhia ? Is fhe to be married, fay you, 
 
 Char. M 
 
 To Pamphilus to-day ? 
 
 Byr. 'Tis even To. 
 
 Char. How do you know ? 
 
 Byr. I had it even now 
 From Davus at the Forum. 
 
 * The firft a& of Baron's 
 .Andrian is little elfe than a 
 mere verfion of this firft aft of 
 Terence. Its extreme elegance 
 and great fuperiority to the 
 Profe Translation of Dacier, is 
 a ftrong proof of the fuperior 
 excellence and propriety of a 
 Poetical Tranfiation of the works 
 of this author. 
 
 f Cbarinus, Bjrrbia.] Thefe 
 two characters were not in the 
 works of Menander, but were 
 added to the Fable by Terence, 
 leit Philumena's being left with- 
 out a hufband, on the marriage 
 
 of Pamphilus to Giycerium, 
 fhould appear too tragical a. sir - 
 curnftance. DOKATUS. 
 
 Madam Dacier, after tranf- 
 cribir.g this remark, adds, that 
 it appears to her to be an ob- 
 fervauon of great importance 
 to the Theatre, and well \yorthy 
 our attention. 
 
 Important as this Dramatick 
 Arcanum m?.y be, it were to be 
 wifhed that Terence had never 
 found it cut, or at kail that he 
 had not availed himfelfof it in 
 the conftru&ion of the Andrian. 
 It is plain that the Duplicity 
 of Intrigue did not proceed from 
 D 2 the
 
 28 
 
 THE ANDRIAN, 
 
 Char. Woe is me ! 
 
 Then I'm a wretch indeed : till now my mind 
 Floated 'twixt hope and fear : now, hope remov'd,. 
 Stunn'd, and o'erwhelm'd, it finks beneath its cares, 
 
 Byr. Nay, prithee Mafter, fmce the thing you wifh 
 Cannot be had, e'en wifh for that which may ! 
 
 Cbar. I wifh for nothing but Philumena. 
 
 Syr. Ah, how much wifer were it, that you ftrove 
 
 the imitation of Menander, fince 
 thefe characters, on which the 
 double plot is founded, were 
 not drawn from the Greek 
 Poet. Charinus and Byrrhia are 
 indeed bur poor counterparts, 
 or faint fhadows of Pamphilus 
 and Davus ; and inflead of add- 
 ing life and vigour to the Fable, 
 father damp its fpirit, and Hop 
 the activity of itsprogrefs. As to 
 the/rc;az/circumftance of Phi- 
 Jumena's having no hufband, it 
 feemsfomething like the diftrefs 
 of Prince Prettyman,who think* 
 it a matter of indifference,, 
 whether he fhall appear to be 
 the fon of a King or a Fifher- 
 xnan, and is only uneafy left he 
 fhould be the fon of nobody at 
 all. I am much more inclined 
 to the opinion of an ingenious 
 French Critick, whom I have 
 already cited more than once, 
 than to that of Donatus or 
 Madam Dacier. His comment 
 on this under-plot is as follows. 
 " It is i.imoll impoffibie to 
 ' conduct two intrigues t ^a 
 
 " time, withoHt weakening the 
 " intereft of both. With wha: 
 " addrefs has Terence inter- 
 " woven the Amours of Pam- 
 " philus and Charinus in the 
 " Andrian t But has he done it 
 " without inconvenience ? At 
 " the beginning of the fecond 
 " Aft,, do we not feem to be 
 " entering upon a new piece : 
 " and does the fifth conclude 
 " in a very interefting man- 
 *< ner?" DIDEROT. 
 
 It is but juftice to Sir Richard 
 Steele to confcfs, that he ha? 
 conducted the under-plot in 
 the Confcioas Lovers in a much 
 more artful and interefting man- 
 ner than Terence in the play 
 before us. The part which 
 Myrtle fuftains (though not 
 wholly unexceptionable, efpe- 
 ci.illy in the laft aft) is more 
 aflential to the Fable. His cha- 
 racleralfo is more feparated and 
 diilinguifhed from Bevil than 
 Charinus from Pamphilus, and 
 ferves to produce one of thebeft 
 fcenes in the phy. 
 
 To
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 29 
 
 To quench this pafiion, than, with words like thefe, 
 To fan the fire, and blow it to a flame ? 
 
 Char. *How readily do men at eafe prefcribe 
 To thofe who're fick at heart ! Diftreft like me, 
 You would not talk thus. 
 
 Byr. Well, well, as you pleafe. 
 
 Char. Ha ! I fee Pamphilus. I can refolve . 
 On any thing, ere give up all for loft. 
 
 Byr. What now ? 
 
 Char. I will entreat him, beg, befeech him. 
 Tell him our courfe of love, and thus perhaps, 
 At leaft prevail upon him to defer 
 His marriage fome few days : meanwhile, I hope, 
 Something may happen. 
 
 * How readily, ;?<.] Shake- pafTage, as in moft others, tie 
 fpeare's Leonato falls into the Englilh Poet has the advan- 
 fame fentiment : but in this tage. 
 
 Men 
 
 Can couiifel, and give comfort to that grief 
 Which they themfelves not feel ; but tafting it, 
 Their counfel turns to pafiion. 
 
 And again in the fame fpeech, 
 
 No, no ; 'tis all men's office to fpeak patience 
 
 To thofe, that wring under the load of forrow ; 
 
 But no man's virtue, nor fufficiency, 
 
 To be fo moral, when he (hall endure 
 
 The like himfelf. Much Ado alout Kctbing. 
 
 It is a very natural fentiment, from whom, however, it is no 
 extremely likely to fuggeft itfelf more neceflary to fuppofe that 
 on fach occafions, and it has Terence adopted it, than that 
 been obferved by Madam Da- Shakefpeare borrowed it from 
 cier, that it occurs in^Efchylus ; Terence. 
 
 D r.
 
 30 T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 Eyr. Ay, that fomething's nothing. 
 
 Char. Byrrhia, what think you ? Shall I fpeak to him ? 
 
 Byr. Why not ? for tho' you don't obtain your fuit, 
 Ke will at leafl imagine you're prepar'd 
 To cuckold him in cafe he marries her. 
 
 Cbar. Away, you hang-dog, with your hafe fufpicions ! 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Enter PAMPHILUS. 
 
 Pam. Charinus, fave you ! 
 
 Cbar. Save you, Pamphilus ! 
 Imploring comfort, fafety, help, and counfel, 
 You fee me now before you. 
 
 Pam. Help, and counfel ! 
 I can afford you neither. But what mean you ? 
 
 Char, Is this your Wedding-day ? 
 
 Pam. Ay, fo they fay. 
 
 Cbar. Ah Pamphilus, if it be fo, this day 
 You fee the laft of me. 
 
 Pam. How fo ? 
 
 Cbar. Ah me ! 
 I dare not fpeak it : prithee tell him, Byrrhia, 
 
 Byr. Ay, that I will. 
 
 Pam. What is't ? 
 
 Byr. -He is in Love 
 With your bride, Sir*. 
 
 * With your BriJc.~\ Sponfam cxadly anfwering the fenfe of 
 fee tuam atr.at. We have no word Spo/ifam in this place, The fa- 
 miliar
 
 THE A'N D R 1 A N. 
 
 Pam. I 'faith ib am not I. 
 Tell me y Charinus, has aught further paft 
 'Twixt you and her ? 
 
 Char. Ah, no, no.- 
 
 Pam. WouJ^ there had ! 
 
 Char. Now by our friendfhip, by my love, I beg 
 You wou'd not marry her 
 
 Pam. I will endeavour. 
 
 Char. If that's impofllble,- ot if this match 
 Be grateful to your heart > 
 
 Pam. My heart ! 
 
 Char. At lead 
 
 Defer it fome few days , while J depart, 
 That I may not behold it. 
 
 Pam. Hear, Charinus , 
 It is, I think, fcarce honefty in him 
 To look for thanks, who means ni favour. I 
 Abhor this marriage, more than' you defir 
 
 Char. You have reviv'd me. 
 
 Pam. Now if you, or He, 
 Your Byrrhia here, can do or think of aught ; 
 Aft, plot, devife, invent, ftrive all you can 
 To make her your's -, and I'll do all I can 
 That She may not be mine. 
 
 miliar French exprefiion of La fation to fpcak of the Lady by 
 
 Future comes pretty near it. It the name of the Bride on her 
 
 is, however, I hope, an allow- wedding-day, though beforethe 
 
 able liberty in familiar Conver- performance of the- ceremony. 
 
 D 4 Char.
 
 32 T H E A N D R I A N, 
 
 Char. Enough. 
 
 Pam, I fee 
 
 Davus, and in good time : for he'll .advife 
 What's bell to do, 
 
 Char. But you, you forry Rogue, [to Byrrhia. 
 Can give me no advice, nor tell me aught, 
 But what it is impertinent to know. 
 Hence, Sirrah, get you gone ! 
 
 Byr. With all my heart. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 Enter DAVUS baftifa 
 
 Davus. Good tfcav'ns, what news I bring f what 
 
 joyful news ! 
 
 ; -where fkall I find Pamphilus, to drive 
 js. fears away, and make him full of Joy ? 
 
 Char. There's fomething .pleafes him. 
 o r 
 
 Pam. No matter what. 
 He has not heard of our ill fortune yet. 
 
 Davus. And He, I warrant, if he has been told 
 Of his intended Wedding . 
 
 Char. Do you hear ? 
 
 Davus. Poor Soul, is running all about the Town 
 In queft of me. But whither fhall I go ? 
 Or which way run ? 
 
 Cbar. Why don't you fpeak to him ? 
 
 Davus.
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. jj 3 
 
 Daws. I'll go. 
 
 Pam. Ho ! Davus ! Stop, come here ! 
 
 Davus. Who calls ? 
 
 O, Pamphilus ! the very man.. Heyday ! 
 Charinus too ! Both gentlemen, well met ! 
 I've news for both. 
 
 Pam. I am ruin'd, Davys. 
 
 Davus. Hear me ! 
 
 Paw. Undone! 
 
 Davus. I know your fears. 
 
 Char. My life's at flake. - 
 
 Davus. Your's I knc*v alfo, 
 
 Pam. Matrimony mine. \ \ 
 
 Davus. I know it. 
 
 'Pam. E\M to-day. 
 
 Davus. You flun me ; Plague ! 
 J tell you I know ev'ry thing : You fear [lo Charirivis. 
 You fhou'd not marryher. You fear you 'fi>ou'd : [to Pom. 
 
 Char. The very thing. 
 
 Pam. The fame. 
 
 Davuj. And yet thar/^/^ 
 Js nothing. Mark! 
 
 T.-T i r r * 
 
 Pam. IN ay, rid me of my fear. 
 
 Davus. I will then.Chremes don't intend his daughter 
 
 - 
 
 Shall marry you to-day. 
 
 Pam. No ! How d'ye know ? 
 
 . I'm fure of it. Your Father but jtift now
 
 34 T HE A N D R I A N. 
 
 Takes me afide, and tells me 'twas his will, ' 
 That you fnou'd wed ; to-day ; with much beftde,, 
 "Which now I have not leifure to repeat. 
 I, on the inftant, haitenihg to find you, 
 Run to the Forum to inform 'ycm of it : 
 There, failing, climb an eminence ; look round i 
 No Pamphiltis : I light by chance en Byrrhia ; 
 * Enquire; he hadn't feen you. Vefct-at heart,' 
 Wbafs to be dene ? thought I. Returning thence 
 A doubt arofe within me. Ha ! bad cheer, 
 The old man melancholy, and a wedding : 
 Clapt up fo fuddenly ! This don't agree. 
 
 Pam. Well, what then ? 
 
 Davus. I betook me inftantly 
 To Chremes* houfe ; but thither when I came, 
 f Before the door all hufli. This tickled me. 
 
 Pam. You're in the right. Proceed.' 
 
 Da'vus. I watch'd awhile : 
 Mean time no foul went in, no foul came out; 
 
 * Enquire; he kadntfeen you.] reader may partly determine 
 Zogo ne g at vidijfe. Wonderful from the prefent and other 
 brevity, and worthy imitation, tranflations. 
 
 DoNATUS - f Before the door all bujh.] 
 
 Whoever remembers this Terence has not put this re- 
 
 Speech, as well as many other mark into the mouth of Davus 
 
 little narrations, in the ongi- without f oundation . The Houfe 
 
 nal, will readily concur with of the Bridc WM alwavs ful]> 
 
 the Critick ; but whether the and bcfore the Street door 
 
 imitation recommended is very wre MuflcianSf and thofe who 
 
 prafticable, or capable of equal waited to accompany t he Bride, 
 
 elegance in our language, the D ACIE R 
 
 No
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 35 
 
 *No Matron-, in the houfe no ornament-, 
 No note of preparation. I approach'd, 
 Look'd in 
 
 Pam. I underftand : a potent fign ! 
 
 Davtts. Does this feem like a nuptial ? 
 
 Pam. I think not. 
 
 Davus. 'Think not^ d'ye lay ? Away ! you don't conceive : 
 The thing is evident. J met befide, 
 As I departed thence, with Chremes' boy. 
 Bearing fome pot-herbs, and a pennyworth f 
 Of little fifties for the old man's dinner. 
 
 Char. \ am deliver'd, Davus, by your means,. 
 From all my apprehenfions of to-day. 
 
 Davus. And yet you are undone. 
 
 Char. How fo ? fmce Chremes 
 Will not confent to give Philumena 
 To Pamphilus, 
 
 Davus. Ridiculous ! As if, 
 Becaufe the daughter is denied to //, 
 She muft of courfe wed you. Look to it well j 
 Court the old Gentleman thro' friends, apply, 
 Or elfe 
 
 * No matron."] Married wo- -f A pennyworth. ~\ Oielo. The 
 
 men, neighbours, and relations; Of>olui, fays Donatus, was a 
 
 whofe bufinefs it was to attend coin of the loweft value. Cooke 
 
 the Lady, whofe -name (Pro- tells us that the precife worth 
 
 nuba) as well as office was much of it was one penny, farthing, 
 
 the fame as that of the modern one-fixth. 
 
 Char.
 
 36 T.HEANDRIAN. 
 
 Char. You're right : I will about it ftraight, 
 Altho' that hope has often fail'd. Farewell ! 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 PAMPHILUS, DAVUS. 
 
 Pam. What means my Father then ? why counterfeit . ? 
 Davus. That I'll explain. If he were angry now, 
 Merely that Chremes has refus'd his Daughter, 
 He'd think himfelf in fault ; and juftly too, 
 Before the biafs of your mind is known. 
 But granting you refufe her for a Wife, 
 Then all the blame devolves on you ; and then 
 Comes all the ftorm. 
 Pam. What courfe then mall I take ? 
 
 Shall I fubmit 
 
 Davus. He is your Father, Sir, 
 Whom to oppofe were difficult -, and then 
 Glycerium's a lone woman ; and he'll find 
 Some courfe, no matter what, to drive her hence, 
 Pam. To drive her hence ? 
 Davus. Directly. 
 Pam. Tell me then. 
 
 Oh tell me, Davus, what were beft to do ? 
 Davus. Say that you'll marry*. 
 
 * Say that you'll marry. ~\ The Fable of this Comedy, is muci/ 
 reciprocal diflimulation between better managed by our Author 
 the Father and Son, in the than by Sir Richard Steele. 
 
 The
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 37 
 
 Pam. How! 
 
 Davus. And where's the harm ? 
 
 Pam. Say that I'll marry ! 
 
 Davus. Why not ? 
 
 Pam. Never, never. 
 
 Davus. Do not refufe ! 
 
 Pam. Perfuade not ! 
 
 Davus. Do but mark 
 The confequence. 
 
 Pam. Divorcement from Glycerium, 
 And marriage with the other. 
 
 Davus. No fuch thing. 
 Your father, I fuppofe, accofts you thus. 
 rd have you wed to-day ; / toil!, quoth you . 
 What reafon. has he to reproach you then ? 
 Thus fhall you baffle all his fettled fchemes, 
 And put him to confufion -, all the while 
 Secure yourfelf : for 'tis beyond a doubt 
 That Chremes will refufe his daughter to you -, 
 
 The efforts made by each party, lowed by no confeqtiences, and 
 
 in order to accompiifh the fa- his boneft diff>mulat:on t as he 
 
 vourite point, which they fe- himfelf calls it, is lefs recon- 
 
 verally have in view, very na- cileable to the philofophical 
 
 turaliy keeps all the characters turn of his character, than to 
 
 in motion, and produces many the natural fenfibility of Pam- 
 
 affeding, and pleafant fituati- phiius ; befides that the dilfi- 
 
 ons. There is too much uni- mulation of the latter* is palli- 
 
 formity in the adventures, as ated by his being almoft invo- 
 
 well as character of Bevil, for luntarily driven into it by the 
 
 the vivacity of the Drama. His artful inftig*tions 
 fuppofed confcnt to marry i: fol-
 
 3 8 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 So obftinately too, you need not paufe, 
 Or change thefe meafures, left he change his mind ; 
 Say to your father then, that you will wed, 
 That, with the will, he may want caufe to chide. 
 But if, deluded by fond hopes, you cry, 
 " No one will wed their daughter to a rake, 
 " A libertine." Alas, you're much deceiv'd. 
 For know, your father will redeem fome wretch 
 From rags and beggary to be your wife, 
 Rather than fee your ruin with Glycerium. 
 But if he thinks you bear an eafy mind, 
 Fie too will grow indifTrent, and feek out 
 Another match at leifure : the mean while 
 Affairs may take a lucky turn. 
 
 Pam. D'ye think fo ? 
 
 Davits. Beyond all doubt. 
 
 Pam. See, what you lead me to. 
 
 Davits. Nay, peace ! 
 
 Pam. I'll fay fo then. But have a care 
 He knows not of the child, which I've agreed 
 To educate. 
 
 Davus. Oh confidence ! 
 
 Pam. She drew 
 
 This promife from me, as a firm afiurance 
 That I would not forlake her. 
 
 Davus. We'll take care. 
 But here's your father : let him not perceive 
 
 You're melancholy. 
 
 SCENE
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 39 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 Enter SI MO at advance. 
 
 Shno. I return to fee 
 What they're about, or what they meditate. 
 
 Davits. Now is he lure that you'll refuie to wed. 
 From fome dark corner brooding o'er black thoughts 
 He comes, and fancies he has fram'd a fpeech 
 To difconcert you. See, you keep your ground I 
 
 Pam. If I can, Davus. 
 
 Davits. Truft me, Pamphilus, 
 Your father will not change a fmgle word 
 In anger with you, do but fay you'll wed. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 Enter BYRRHIA behind. 
 
 Byr. To-day my matter bad me leave all elie 
 For Pamphilus, and watch how he proceeds, 
 About his marriage ; wherefore I have now f 
 *Follow'd the old man hither : yonder too 
 
 * Foliaiu'dtkf .oldman hither.] entemfequor. If we fuppofe the 
 
 H u N c *uenif ntem fequor. This linegenuine,we muftat thefame 
 
 verfe, though in every edition, time fuppofe Terence guilty of a 
 
 as Bentley judicioufly obferves, rr.onftroas abfurdity. COOKE. 
 
 is certainly fpurious : for as Other Commentators have 
 
 Pamphilus has not difappeared alfo fiumbled at this pafTa^e ; 
 
 fince Byrrhjajeft tfae ftage, be but if in the words /. 
 
 could not fay nunc HVNC itni- HIM hithtr, we fuppof^ HIM 
 
 [HU:;C]
 
 40 T H A N D R I A N. 
 
 Stands Pamphilus hiinfelf, and with him Davus. 
 To bufmefs then! 
 
 Simo. I fee them both together. 
 
 Davus. Now mind* [apart to Pam. 
 
 Simo. Here, Pamphilus! 
 
 Davus. Now turn about, 
 As taken unawares. [apart. 
 
 Pam. Who calls ? my father ! 
 
 Davus. Well faid ! [apart. 
 
 Simo. It is my pleafure, that to-day, 
 As I have told you once before, you marry. 
 
 Byr. Now on our part, I fear what he'll reply, [afide. 
 
 Pam. In that, and all the reft of your commands, 
 I mail be ready to obey you j Sir ! 
 
 Byr. How's that ! [overhearing. 
 
 Davus. Struck dumb* [afide. 
 
 Byr. What faid he ? [lijlening. 
 
 Simo. You perform 
 
 Your duty, when you chearfully comply 
 With my defires. 
 
 r. There ! faid I not the truth ? [apart 
 
 [HUNC] to refer to Simo, the the ftage homewards, fo that 
 
 difficulty is removed : and that Byrrhia might eafily have fol 
 
 the Pronoun does really fignify lowed him along the flreet: and 
 
 Simo, is evident froto the very it is evident that Byrrhia does 
 
 circumftance of Pamphilus never not allude to Pamphilus, from 
 
 having left the ftage fince the the agreeable furprize which he 
 
 difappearance of Byrrhia. Simo exprclies on feeing him there fo 
 
 is alfo reprefentcd as comingon opportunely for his purpofe.
 
 T H E A 
 
 Eyr. My matter then, -fo faj~l c 
 May whittle for a wife. 
 
 /;#0. Now then go^in, 
 That when you're wanted you 
 
 Pam. I go. 
 
 Byr. Is there no faith in the afTairs of men ; 
 J Tis an old faying and a true one 
 " Of all mankind each loves liiiriftlf tiu 
 I've teen the lady j know her beautiful i 
 And therefore fooner pardon Pamphjlus, 
 If he had rather win, her to.kis arms , 
 Than yield Her to th' embraces of my mailer. 
 * I will go bear theie tidings, and r^cei 
 Much evil treatment for my evil .news. [Exit. 
 
 * I './'// go bear tb;fi tidings ] 
 Donatus obierves on this fcene 
 between Byrrhia, Simo, Pam- 
 philus, and Davus, that the 
 Dialogue is fuftained by four 
 peifons, who have little or no 
 intercourfe with each other: fo 
 that the fcene is not only in di- 
 rect contradiction to the precept 
 of Horace excluding a fourth 
 perfon, but is alfo otherwifc vi- 
 cious in its cenftruclion. Scenes 
 of this kind are, I think, much 
 too frequent in Terence, though 
 indeed the form of the antient 
 theatre was more adapted to ike 
 
 reprefentation of them than the 
 modern. The multiplicity of 
 fpeeches afide is aKo the c'uicf 
 error in his Dialogue, fuch. 
 fpeeches, though very common 
 in Dramatick writers aruienu 
 and modern, being always more 
 or lefs unnatural. 
 
 Myrtle's fufpicioasf, s;r^nded 
 on the i'ntelligerjce di: \v;, "ro'n. 
 Bevil'sfervant, arc more artfully 
 imagined by the Engjilh Poet, 
 than thofe of Charm us created 
 by employing his. fervant as a 
 Ipy on the actions of Paraphi- 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 SCENE
 
 42 T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 Manent SIMO and DAVUS. 
 
 Davus. Now he fuppofes I've fome trick in hand, 
 And loiter here to pra&ife it upon him ! 
 
 Simo. Well, what now, Davus ? 
 
 Davus. Nothing. 
 
 Simo. Nothing, fay you ? 
 
 Davus. Nothing at all. 
 
 Simo. And yet I look'd for fomething. 
 
 Davus. *So, I perceive, you did: This nettles 
 him, [afide. 
 
 Simo. Can you fpeak truth ? 
 
 Davus. Mod eafily. 
 
 Simo. Say then, 
 
 Is not this wedding irkfome to my fon, 
 From his adventure with the Andrian ? 
 
 Davus. No faith -, or if at all, 'twill only be 
 Two or three days' anxiety, you know : 
 
 * So, 1 perceive, you did ': him, I rather think it was in- 
 
 This nettles him. ["afide.] Prefer tended in reply ; to which Da- 
 
 fpem pvenit : fetitio : hoc male babet vus fubjoins the conclusion, as 
 
 virum. All the commentators and his fly remark ajldt. Whether 
 
 tranflators have underftood this this was certainly the Poet's 
 
 whole line as fpoken afide : but meaning, it is difficult to de- 
 
 as the firft part of itjs an apt termine; bup \ think that this 
 
 anfwer to what Simo had faid, manner of fpeaking the line 
 
 and in the fame ftile with the would have the belt effeft on 
 
 ^reft of the converfation, that the ftage. 
 Pavus commonly holds with 
 
 Thea
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 43 
 
 Then 'twill be over : for he lees the thing 
 In its true light. 
 
 Simo. I praife him for't. 
 
 Davus. While you 
 
 Reflrain'd him not ; and while his youth allow'd, 
 'Tis true he lov'd;' but even then by Health, 
 As wife men ought, ' and careful of his fame. 
 Now his age calls for matrimony, now 
 To matrimony he inclines his mind. 
 
 Simo. Yet, in my eyes, he feem'd a little fad. 
 , Davus. Not upon that account. He has, he thinks, 
 Another reafon to complain of you. 
 
 Simo. For what ? 
 
 Davus. A trifle. 
 
 Simo. Well, what is't ? 
 
 Davus. Nay, nothing. 
 
 Simo. Tell me, what is't ? 
 
 Davus. You are" .then, he complains, 
 Somewhat too fparing of expence. 
 
 Simo. I ? 
 
 Davus. You. 
 
 * A feaft of fcarce ten Drachms \ Does this, fays he, 
 Look like a \vcdding-fupper for his fon ? 
 What friends can I invite ? efpecially, 
 At fuch a time as this ? and, truly, Sir, 
 You have been very frugal ; much too fparing. 
 
 * A fenjl cf fcarce ten Drachms /] The A ttick Drachma was equal 
 to feven-pence, three farthings, of Engliih money. COOKE. 
 
 E 2 I can't
 
 44 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 I can't commend you for it. 
 Simo. Hold your peace. 
 
 Davits. I've ruffled him. [afide. 
 
 Simo. I'll look to that. Away ! [Exit Davus.. 
 What now ? What means the varlet ? Precious Rogue ! 
 For if there's any knavery on foot, 
 *He, I am fure, is the contriver on't. [Exit. 
 
 * The fecond Aft of the Andrian of Baron is, like the firft, very 
 nearly aa exaft tranflation of Terence. 
 
 ACT
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 45 
 
 * *4*********4********** ******* ***** 
 
 ACT III. SCENE I. 
 
 SIMO, DAVUS, coming out of Simo'j 
 
 MY SIS, LESBIA, going towards the 
 Houfe of Glycerium. 
 
 \ 
 My/is. \ Y, marry, 'tis as you fay, Lefbia : 
 
 * ^ Women fcarce ever find a conftant man. 
 . Simo. The Andrian's maid-fervant ? Is'i not ? . 
 
 Davus. Ay. 
 
 Myfis. But Pamphilus - 
 
 Simo. What fays me ? '[overbearing. 
 
 Myfis. Has been true, 
 
 'Simo. How's that ? [overhearing. 
 
 Davus. Wou'd he were deaf, or me were dumb \\afide. 
 
 Myfis. For the child, boy or girl, he has refojv'd 
 To educate. 
 
 Simo. O Jupiter 1 what's this 
 I hear ? If this be true, I'm loft indeed. 
 
 Lejbia. A good young gentleman ! 
 
 Myjls. Oh, very good. 
 But in, in, left you make her wait. 
 
 Leflna. I follow. [Exeunt Myfis and Lefbia, 
 
 E 3 SCENE
 
 THE AKDRIAN. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Mancnt SIMO, DAVUS. 
 
 Davus. Unfortunate ! What remedy ! [ajide. 
 
 Simo. How's this ? [to kimfelf. 
 
 And can he be fo mad ? What ! educate 
 A Harlot's child ! Ah, now I know their drift : 
 Fool that I was, fcarce fmelt it out at laft.* 
 
 Davxs liftcningJ] What's this he fays Jie has fmelt out ? 
 Simo. Imprimis, [to limfelf. 
 
 'Tis this rogue's trick upon me. All a mam : 
 A counterfeit deliv'ry* and mock labour. 
 Devis'd to frighten Chremes from the match. 
 
 Glycerhim within.'] -f- Juno Lucina, fave me ! help, t 
 pray thec. 
 
 " In their Comedies, the Ro- 
 mans generally borrowed their 
 plots from the Greek Poets ; 
 and theirs was commonly a 
 little girl ftolen cr wander- 
 ed from her parents, brought 
 back unknown to the city, 
 there got with child by fume 
 lewd young fellow ; u ho, by 
 the help of his iervant, cheats 
 1 his father : and when her 
 1 time comes, to cry Juno Lu- 
 1 cina, ftr opem ! one or other 
 1 fees a little box or cabinet, 
 1 which was carried away with 
 
 " her, 
 
 * Scarce fmelt it out at 
 Here the Poet inculcates an ex- 
 cellentmoral, and {hews that fuf- 
 picious pcrfcns are as fubject to 
 be deceived, as thofe of 1'mall 
 penetration : for by too great 
 acutenefs and refinement they 
 rnifintcrprct theplaineftcircum- 
 ftances, and impofe upon thcrn- 
 felves. DONATUS. 
 
 f Gljcerlum fMitbin-~\ Juno Lu- 
 cina,fa'vej;:e! help, I pray thcc .'] 
 Juno Lucir.a was the Goddefs 
 fuppofed to prefide over child- 
 birth.
 
 THE ANDRIAN. 
 
 Simo. Hey-day ! Already ? Oh ridiculous ! 
 Soon as fhe heard that I was at the door 
 
 47 
 
 " her, and fo difcovers her to 
 " her friends ; if fome God do 
 " do not prevent it, by coming 
 " down in a machine, and tak- 
 " ing the thanks of it to him- 
 " felf. 
 
 " By the Plot you tnayguefs 
 41 much of the characters of the 
 " Perfons. An old father, who 
 " would willingly, before he 
 " dies, fee his fon well married : 
 " a debauched fon, kind in his 
 " nature to his miftrefs,but mi- 
 " ferably in want of money j a 
 " fcrvant or Have, who has fo 
 " much wit as to ftrike in with 
 **him, and help to dupe his 
 " father ; a Braggadochio Cap- 
 " tain ; a Parafite ; and a Lady 
 ' ofPleafure. 
 
 '* As for the poor honeft 
 *' maid, on whom the ftory is 
 " built, and who ought to be 
 " one of the principal Actors in 
 " the Play, me is commonly 
 " mute in it: She has the breed- 
 " ing of the old Elizabeth way, 
 " which was for maids to be 
 " feen, and not to be heard ; 
 .*' and it is enough you know 
 " me is willing to be married 
 " when the fifth Adi requires 
 " it." DRYDES'S Eay cfDra- 
 matick Potjie, 
 
 It muft be remembered that 
 Dryden's EiTay is written in the 
 form of a Dialogue, and there- 
 
 fore the above extract is not to 
 be fuppofed to be abfolutely the 
 very opinion of the writer, but 
 receives a good deal of its high 
 colouring from the character of 
 the fpeaker. It is true, indeed, 
 that this trying out of u woman 
 in labour behind the fcenes, 
 which Donatus gravely remarks 
 is the only way in which the 
 feverity of \hzComadia Palliata 
 would allow a young gentlewo- 
 man to be introduced, is per- 
 haps the moft exceptionable cir- 
 cumftance of all the antient 
 drama : and if the modern 
 theatre has any tranfcendent ad- 
 vantage over the antient, it is 
 in the frequen t and fuccefsf ul in- 
 troduftion of female perfonages. 
 The antients were fo little 
 fenfible of the impropriety or 
 indecorum of fuch an incident, 
 that it is (as Dryden has ob- 
 ferved) introduced into many of 
 their plays, wherein the Lady 
 cries out in the fame, or very (I- 
 milar, words with Glycerium. 
 I do not, however, remember 
 any play where the Lady in the 
 Straw produces fo many plea- 
 fant circumftances, as in the 
 play before us ; nor is there, I 
 think, any one of thofe cir- 
 cumftances, except the crying 
 out, which might not be repre- 
 fented on our Stage. This acl, 
 4 and
 
 4 3 T H E A N D R I A X. 
 
 She haftens to cry out: Your incidents* 
 Are ill-tim'd, Davus. 
 
 Dr.-j-.'.s. Mine, Sir? 
 
 Simo. Are your players 
 Unmindful of their cues, and want a prompter ? 
 
 Dai-xs. I do not comprehend you. 
 
 Simo apart.'] If this knave 
 Had, in the real nuptial of my fon, 
 Come thus upon me unprepaf d, what fport, 
 Wha: icrirn he'd have expos'd me to r But now 
 At his cvrn peril be it. I'm fecure. 
 
 and the next, which are en- 
 tirely built on the delivery of 
 Glycerium, are the moft hu- 
 mourous of the five ; and yet 
 thefe very a&s fcem to have 
 been the moft obnoxious to the 
 delicacy of the modern imitators 
 of our Author. Sir Richard 
 Steele, indeed, departed in 
 many other circumftances from 
 the Fable of Terence, fo that 
 it is no wonder he took the ad- 
 vantage cf bringing our Gly- 
 cerium on the Stage in the per- 
 fon of Indiana : but Baron, 
 who has wrought his wh<-!e 
 piece on the ground of Terrr^t, 
 thought it ncceffary tc 
 
 mould thefe two ab, and has 
 introduced Glycerium merely to 
 fill up the chafni created by the 
 omiifion of the other incidents. 
 Baron, I doubt not, judged right 
 in thinking it unfafe to hazard 
 them on the French Stage : but 
 it mud be obvious to every 
 reader that the deadeft and moll 
 infipid parts of Baron's play are 
 thofe fcenes in which he de- 
 viates from Tc. 
 
 * Yci. 
 
 commede di-v'fa fu* i-:.^or':lut 
 tit-.i. /)<*.'. '.. A metaphor 
 taVei DA- 
 
 S C E N E 
 I
 
 T II E A N D R I A N, 49 
 
 SCENE III. 
 Re-enter LESBIA. ARCHILLIS appears at the door. 
 
 Lejlia to Arch, within.] As yet, Archillis, all the 
 
 fymptoms feem 
 
 As good as might be wifh'd in her condition : 
 Firft, let her make ablution : after that, 
 Drink what I've order'd her, and juft fo much : 
 And prefently I will be here again, [coming forward. 
 Now, by this good day, Matter Pamphilus 
 P^as got a chopping Boy : Heav'n grant it live ! 
 For he's a worthy gentleman, and fcorn*d 
 To do a wrong to this young innocent. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Manent SIMO, DAVUS. 
 
 Simo. This too, where's he that knows you wou'd 
 
 not fwear 
 Was your contrivance ? 
 
 Davus. My contrivance ! what, Sir ? 
 
 Simo. While in the houfe, forlboth, the midwife gave 
 No orders for the Lady in the Straw : 
 But having iflued forth into the ftreet, 
 
 Bawls
 
 50 T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 Bawls out moft luftily to.thofe within. 
 
 Oh Davus, am I then fo much your fcorn ? 
 
 Seem I fo proper to be play'd upon, 
 
 With fuch a mallow, barefac'd, impofition ? 
 
 You "might at leaft, in reverence, have us'd 
 
 Some fpice of art, were't only to pretend 
 
 You fear'd my anger, fhou'd I find you out. 
 
 Davus. I'faith now he deceives himielf, not I. [afide. 
 
 Simo, Did not I give you warning ? threaten too, 
 In cafe you play'd me falfe ? But all in vain : 
 For what car'd you ? What ! think you I believe 
 This ftory of a child by Pamphilus ? 
 
 Davus. I fee his error: Now I know my game, [ajidc. 
 
 Simo. Why don't you anfwer ? 
 
 Davus. What ! you don't believe it ? 
 As if you had not been inform'd of this ? [archly. 
 
 Sime. Inform'd? 
 
 Davus. What then you found it outyourfelf ? [archly. 
 
 Simo. D'ye laugh at me ? 
 
 Davus. You muft have been inform'd : 
 Or whence this fhrewd fufpicion ? 
 
 Simo. Whence ! from you : 
 Becaufe I know you. 
 
 Davus. Meaning, this was done 
 By my advice. 
 
 Simo. Beyond all doubt: I know it: 
 
 Davus. You do not know me, Simo. 
 
 Simo,
 
 THEANDRIAN. 51 
 
 Simo. I not know you ? 
 
 Davus. For if I do but fpeak, immediately 
 You think youriclf impos'd on. 
 
 Simo. Falfely, hey ? 
 
 Davus. So that I dare not ope my lips before you. 
 
 Simo. All that I know is this ; that nobody 
 Kas been dcliver'd here. 
 
 Davus. You've found it our ? 
 Yet by and by they'll bring the bantling here, * 
 And lay it at our door. Remember, Sir, 
 I give you warning that will be the cafe ; 
 That you may ftand prepar'd, nor after fay, 
 'Twos done by Davus's advice, his tricks ! 
 I wou'd fain cure your ill opinion of me. 
 
 Simo. But how d'ye know ? 
 
 Daws. I've heard fo, and believe fo. 
 Befides a thoufand different things concur 
 To lead to this conjecture. Firft, Glycerium 
 Profefs'd herfelf with child by Pamphilus : 
 That proves a falfehood. Now, as me perceives 
 A nuptial preparation at our houfe, 
 A maid's immediately difpatch'd to bring 
 
 * They'll bring the bantling ther by flattering him on his 
 
 here.'] The art of this paflage is fancied fagacity, yefit very na- 
 
 equal to the pleafantry : for turally prepares us for an inci- 
 
 though Davus runs into this dent which, by another turn of 
 
 detail merely with a view to circumftances, afterwards be- 
 
 dupe the old man ftill fur- comes neceflary. 
 
 A mid-
 
 52 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 A midwife to her, and withal a child*: 
 
 You too, they will contrive, fhall fee the child, 
 
 Or elfe the wedding muft proceed. 
 Simo. How's this ? 
 
 Having difcover'd fuch a plot on foot, 
 
 Why did not you directly tell my fon ? 
 Davits. Who then has drawn him from her but myfelf ? 
 
 For we all know how much he doated on her : 
 
 But now he wimes for a wife. In fine, 
 
 Leave that affair to me , and you mean while 
 
 Perfue, as you've begun, the nuptials j which 
 
 The Gods, I hope, will profper ! 
 Simo. Get you in. 
 
 Wait for me there, and fee that you prepare 
 
 What's requifite. [Exit Daviis. 
 
 He has not wrought upon me 
 
 To yield implicit credit to his tale, 
 Nor do I know if all he faid be true. 
 But, true or falfe, it matters not : to me 
 My fon's own promife is the main concern. 
 Now to meet Chremes, and to beg his daughter 
 In marriage with my fon : If I fucceed, 
 What can I rather wim, than to behold 
 Their marriage-rites to-day ? For fmce my fon 
 Has given me his word, I've not a doubt, 
 
 * And withal a child.~\ This often deceived the old men by 
 was a piece of roguery ve^y fuppofitious children. DA- 
 common in Greece, where t'nev citK. 
 
 2 Should
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 53 
 
 Should he refufe, but I may force him to it : 
 And to my wifhes fee where Chremes comes. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 Enter CHREMES*. 
 
 Simo. Chremes, Good day ! 
 
 Chremes. The very man I iook'd for. 
 
 Simo. And I for you. 
 
 Chremes. Well met. Some perfons came 
 To tell me you informed them, that my daughter 
 Was to be married to your fon to-day : 
 And therefore came I here, and fain wou'd know 
 Whether 'tis you or they have loft their wits. 
 
 Simo. A moment's hearing ; you mall be inform'd. 
 What I requeft, and what you wifh to know. 
 
 Chremes. I hear : what would you ? fpeak. 
 
 Simo. Now by the Gods -, 
 
 Now by our friendfhip, Chremes, which, begun 
 In infancy, has ilill increased with age -, 
 Now by your only daughter, and my fon, 
 Whofe prefervation wholly refts on you ; 
 
 * Enter CHREMES.] Chremes oeu Srit to renew his confent to 
 
 is a humane, natural, unarfec- the match, and afterwards 
 
 ted old gentleman. Sealand in wrought upon by occurrences 
 
 the Confcious Lovers, the En- ariiingin the fable to withdraw 
 
 glifh Chremes, is a fenfible re- it again, renders his character 
 
 fpeftable merchant. Both the more eflential to the Drama, 
 
 characters are properly fuftain- than Sealand's. 
 td: but Chremes being indu- 
 
 Let
 
 54 T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 Let me entreat this boon : and let the match 
 Which mould have been, ftill be. 
 
 Chremes. Why, why entreat ? 
 Knowing you ought not to befeech this of me. k 
 Think you, that I am other than I was, 
 When firft I gave my promife ? If the match 
 Be good for both, e'en call them forth to wed. 
 Bin if their union promifes more harm 
 Than good to both, You alfo, I befeech you, 
 Confnlt our common intereft, as if 
 You were her father, Pamphilus my fon. 
 
 Simo. E'en in that fpirit, I defire it, Chremes, 
 Entreat it may be done ; nor would entreat, 
 But that occafion urges. 
 
 Chremes. What occafion ? 
 
 Simo. A difference 'twixt Glycerium and my fon. 
 
 Cbremes. I hear. [ironically. 
 
 Simo. A breach fo wide as gives me hopes 
 To feparate them for ever. 
 
 Chremes. Idle tales ! 
 
 Simo. Indeed 'tis thus. 
 
 Chremes. Ay marry, "thus it is. 
 Quarrels of lovers but renew their love. 
 
 Simo. Prevent we then, I pray, this mifchief now> 
 While time permits, while yet his pafiion's fore 
 From contumelies j ere thefe womens' wiles, 
 Their wicked arts, and tears made up of fraud, 
 
 Shake
 
 THEANDRIAN. 55 
 
 Shake his weak mind, and melt it to companion. 
 Give him a wife : By intercourfe with her, 
 Knit by the bonds of wedlock, foon, I hope, 
 He'll rife above the guilt that finks him now. 
 
 Chremes. So you believe : for me, I cannot think 
 That he'll be conftant, or that I can bear it. 
 
 Simo. How can you know, unlefs you make the trial ? 
 
 Chremes. Ay, but to make that trial on a daughter 
 Is hard indeed. 
 
 Simo. The mifchief, mould he fail, 
 Is only this : divorce, which heav'n forbid I 
 But mark what benefits if he amend ! 
 Firft, to your friend you will reftore a fon ; 
 Gain to yourfelf a fon-in-law j and match. 
 Your daughter to an honeft hufband. 
 
 Chremes. Well! 
 
 Since you're fo thc~oughly convinc'd 'tis right, 
 I can deny you naught that lies in me. 
 
 Simo. I fee I ever lov'd you juilly, Chremes. 
 
 Chremes. But then 
 
 Simo. But whac ? 
 
 Chremes. From whence are you appriz'd 
 That there's a difference between them ? 
 
 Simo. Davus, 
 
 Davus, in all their fecrets, told me fo ; 
 Advis'd me too, to haften on the match 
 As faft as poffible. Wou'd He, d'ye think, 
 
 Do
 
 56 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 Do that, nnlefs he were full well afiur'd 
 
 My fon defir'd it too ? Hear what lie fays. 
 
 Ho there ! call Davus forth. But here he comes. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 Enter DAVUS. 
 
 Davus. I was about to feck you. 
 
 Simo. What's the matter ? 
 
 Davits. Why is not the bride fcnt for ? it grows late. 
 
 Simo. D'ye hear him ? Davus, I for fome time paft 
 Was fearful of you j left, like other flaves, 
 As flaves go now, you mould put tricks upon me, 
 And baffle me, to favour my ion's love. 
 
 Davus. I, Sir? 
 
 Simo. I thought fo : and in fear of that 
 Conceal'd a fecret which I'll now difclofe. 
 
 Davus. What fecret, Sir ? 
 
 Simo. I'll tell you : for I now 
 Almoft begin to think you may be trufted. 
 
 Davus. You've found what fort of man I am at la ft 
 
 Simo. No marriage was intended. 
 
 Davus. How ! none ! 
 
 Simo. None. 
 All counterfeit, to found my fon and you. 
 
 Davus. How fay you ? 
 
 Simo. Even fo. 
 
 Davus.
 
 THEANDRIAN, / 
 
 Dai-us. Alack, alack! 
 
 I never could have thought it. Ah, what art ! 
 
 [archly. 
 
 Simo. Hear me. No fooner had I fent you in, 
 But opportunely I encounter'd Chremes. 
 
 Davus. How ! are we ruin'd then ? [afide. 
 
 Simo. I told him all, 
 That you had juft told me, 
 
 Davus. Confufion ! how ? [afide. 
 
 Simo. Begg'd him to grant his daughter, and at 
 
 length 
 With much ado prevail'd, 
 
 Davus. Undone ! . [afide. 
 
 Simo. How's that ? \pverhearing^ 
 
 Davus. Well done ! I faid. 
 
 Simo. My good friend Chremes then 
 Is now no obftacle. 
 
 Chremes. I'll home awhile, 
 Order due preparations, and return. [Exit, 
 
 Simo. Prithee now, Davus, feeing you alone 
 Have brought about this match-- 
 
 Davus. Yes, I alone. 
 
 Simo. Endeavour further to amend my fon, 
 
 Davus. Moft diligently. 
 
 Simo. It were eafy now, 
 While his mind's irritated. 
 
 Davus. Be at peace. 
 
 VOL - I- F
 
 5$ THEANDRIAN. 
 
 Simo. Do then : where is he ? 
 7)avtts. Probably, at home. 
 
 Simo. I'll in, and tell him, what I've now told 
 you. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 
 DAY US alone. 
 
 Loft and undone! To prifon with me ftraight? 
 No prayer, no plea: for I have ruin'd all : 
 Deceiv'd the old man, hamper'd Pamphilus 
 With marriage; marriage, brought about to-day 
 By my fole means ; beyond the hopes of one ; 
 Againft the other's will. Oh cunning fool ! 
 Had I been quiet, all had yet been well. 
 But fee, he's coming. Would my neck were broken. 
 
 [Retires. 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 ^rPAMPHILUSi DAVUS behind. 
 
 Pam. Where is this villain that has ruin'd me ? 
 
 Daws. I'm a loft man. 
 
 Pam. And yet I muft confefs, 
 That I deferv'd this, being fuch a dolt, 
 A very ideot, to commit my fortunes 
 To a vile Dave. I fuffer for my folly, 
 
 But
 
 THEANDRIAN. 39 
 
 But will at lead take vengeance upoa Him. 
 
 Davus. Let me but once cfcape the prefent 
 
 danger, 
 I'll anfwer for hereafter. 
 
 Pam. To my father 
 
 What mall I fay ? And can I then refufe, 
 Who have but now confented ? with what face ? 
 I know not what to do. 
 
 Davus. I'faith, nor I ; 
 
 And yet it takes up all my thoughts. I'll tell him 
 I've hit on fomething to delay the match. 
 
 Pam. Oh ! [fwwg Davus. 
 
 Davus. I am feen. 
 
 Pam. So, Good Sir! What fay you ? 
 See, how I'm hamper'd with your fine advice. 
 
 Davus coming forward.} But I'll deliver you, 
 
 Pam. Deliver me ? 
 
 Davus. Certainly, Sir. 
 
 Pam. What, as you did juft now ? 
 
 Davus. Better, I hope. 
 
 Pam. And can you then believe 
 That I would truft you, Rafcal ? You amend 
 My broken fortunes, or redeem them loft ? 
 You, who to-day, from the moft happy flate, 
 Have thrown me upon marriage. Did not I 
 Foretell it would be thus ? 
 You did indeed. 
 
 F a Pam.
 
 6o 
 
 THE ANDRIAN. 
 
 Pam. .And what do you deferve for this?* 
 
 Davits. The gallows. 
 Yet fuffer me to take a little breath, 
 I'll devife fomething prefently. 
 
 Pam. Alas, f 
 
 * Andiukat do you deferve for 
 tbit ?] Quid meritus ? This 
 queftion is taken from the cuf- 
 tom of the Athenians, whenever 
 condemned a criminal without 
 firft afking what punifhment he 
 thought he deferved; and ac- 
 cording to the nature of the 
 culprit's anfwer, they mitigated 
 or aggravated his punifhment. 
 >DACIER. 
 
 The Commentators cite a paf- 
 fage exaftly parallel from the 
 Frogs ofAriftophar.es. 
 
 f Alas, lhave not leifur^&c."] 
 ' Characters too faintly drawn 
 " are the oppofite of Carica- 
 " ture. Pamphilus in the An- 
 " drian is, in my mind, a faint 
 " character. Davus has preci- 
 " pitated him into a marriage 
 " that he abhors. His miftrefs 
 " has but juft been brought to- 
 ' bed. He has a hundred rea- 
 " fons to be out of humour. 
 " Yet he takes all in good part." 
 DIDEROT. 
 
 I cannot think there is much 
 juftice in the above obfervation. 
 Pamphilus appears to me to 
 have all the feelings of an ami- 
 aUleandingenuous mind. There 
 
 is an obfervation of Donatus oc 
 Simo's obferving to Davus, at 
 the end of the fecond aft, that 
 his fon appeared to him to be 
 rather melancholy, which is in 
 my opinion infinitely more joft, 
 and applicable to the character 
 of Pamphilus than the remark 
 of our ingenious French Cri- 
 tick. It has been referved for 
 this place on purpofe to oppofe 
 them to each other. Thepaffage 
 and note on it are as follow. 
 
 " Tet in my mind he feem'd a 
 " little fad.] The propriety of 
 " behaviour neceflary to thedif- 
 " ferent characters of the Son 
 " and the Lover, is wonderful- 
 " ly preferved in this inftance. 
 ' ' A deceit, fuftained with great 
 " afTurance, would not have 
 " been agreeable to the charac- 
 { ter of an ingenuous youth : 
 " and it would have been im- 
 " probable in the character of 
 " the Lover to have entirely 
 " fmothered his concern. He 
 " fupprefles it therefore in fome 
 " meafure, becaufe the thing 
 ' was to be concealed ; bat 
 "could not aflume a thorough 
 " joyfulnefs, becaufe his difpo- 
 (< fition
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 61 
 
 I have not Icifure for your punifhment, 
 The time demands attention to myfelf, 
 Nor will be wafted in revenge on you. 
 
 " fition and paffion infpiredhim lus concludes this a<Et, alluding 
 
 "with melancholy." DONAT. to his prefent fttuation, affign a 
 
 It may be added alfo, as a very natural reafon for his fub- 
 
 further anfvver to Diderot, that duing the tranfports of his anger 
 
 the words with which Pamphi- towards Davus. 
 
 ACT
 
 62 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 'I * * 'I' * ******* * * * * ** * * * 'I- * Hi * -I- * ************** 
 
 A C T IV. S C E N E I. 
 
 C H A R I N U S alone. 
 
 IB this to be believ'd, or to be told ? 
 Can then fuch inbred malice live in man, 
 To joy in ill, and from another's woes 
 To draw his own delight? Ah, is't then fo ? 
 Yes, fuch there are, the meaneft of mankind, 
 Who, from a fneaking bafhfulnefs, at firft 
 Dare not refufe - y but when the time comes on 
 To make their promife good, then force perforce 
 Open themfelves and fear: yet muft deny. 
 Then too, oh mamelefs impudence, they cry, 
 " Who then are You ? and what are you to Me ? 
 " Why fhould I render up my love to You ? 
 " Troth, neighbour, charity begins at home." 
 Speak of their broken faith, they blufh not, they, 
 *Now throwing off that fhame they ought to wear, 
 Which they before affum'd without a caufe. 
 
 * NO-M throwing ejj~, &c.~] It this from a paflage in the firft 
 is obferved by Patrick, thatTe- fcene of the fecond ad of the 
 rence has manifeftly borrowed Epidicus of PJautus. 
 Plerique homines, qiios, cum nihil referr, pudct: ubipudendum eft, 
 Ibi eos deferit p-udor, cum ufus eft ut pudeat. 
 Too many are afiiam'd without a caufe, 
 And Hiamelefs. only when they've caufe for fhame. 
 
 -What
 
 THEANDRIAN. 63 
 
 * What (hall I 'do ? accofl him ? tell my wrongs ? 
 Expoftulate, and throw reproaches on him ? 
 What will that profit, fay you ? very much. 
 I mail at leail embitter his delight, 
 And gratify my anger. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 To him PAMPHILUS and DAY US. 
 
 Pam. Oh, Charinus, 
 
 By my imprudence, unlefs Heav'n forefend, 
 I've ruin'd both myfelf and you. 
 
 Char. Imprudence ! 
 Paltry evafion ! You have broke your faith. 
 
 Pam. What now ? 
 
 Char. And do you think that words like theib 
 Can baffle me again ? 
 
 Pam. What means all this ? 
 
 Char. Soon as I told you of my paflion for her, 
 Then me had charms for you. Ah, fenfelefs fool, 
 To judge your difpofition by my own ! 
 
 Pam. You are miftaken. 
 
 Char. Was your joy no joy, 
 Without abufmg a fond lover's mind, 
 Fool'd on with idle hopes ? Well, cake her. 
 
 Pam. Take her ? 
 
 Alas ! you know not what a wretch I am : 
 How many cares this flave has brought upon me, 
 My rafcal here. 
 
 F 4 Char.
 
 64 T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 Char. No wonder, if he takes 
 Example from his mailer. 
 
 Pam. Ah, you know not 
 Me, or my love, or elfe you would not talk thus. 
 
 Char. Oh yes, I know it all. You had but now 
 A dreadful altercation with your father : 
 And therefore he's enrag'd, nor could prevail 
 On You, forfooth, to wed. [ironically. 
 
 Pam. To (hew you then, 
 How little you conceive of my diftrefs, 
 Thefe nuptials were mere femblance, mock'ry all, 
 Nor was a wife intended me. 
 
 Char. I know it : 
 You are conftrain'd, poor man, by inclination. 
 
 Pam.. Nay, but have patience ! you don't know 
 
 Ckar. I know 
 That you're to marry her. 
 
 Pam. Why rack me thus ? 
 Nay hear ! He never ceas'd to importune 
 That I wou'd tell my father, I would wed ; 
 So preft, and urg'd, that he at length prevaiPd. 
 
 Char. Who did this ? 
 
 Pam. Davus. 
 
 Char. Davus ! 
 
 Pam. Davus all. 
 
 Cbar. Wherefore? 
 
 Pam. I know not : but I know the Gods 
 
 Meant
 
 THEANDRIAN. 65 
 
 Meant in their anger I mould liften to him. 
 
 Char. Is it fo, Davus ? 
 
 Davus. Even fo. 
 
 Char. How, villain ? 
 
 The Gods confound you for it ! Tell me, wretch. 
 Had all his moft inveterate foes defir'd 
 To throw him on this marriage, what advice 
 Could they have given elfe ? 
 
 Davus. I am deceiv'd, 
 But not difhearten'd. 
 
 Char. True. \ircmcally. 
 
 Davus. This way has fail'd ; 
 We'll try another way : unlefs you think 
 Becaufe the bulinefs has gone ill at firft, 
 We cannqt graft advantage on misfortune. 
 
 Pam. Oh ay, I warrant you, if you look to't, 
 Out of one wedding you can work me two. 
 
 Davus. Pamphilus, 'tis my duty, as your Have, 
 To ftrive with might and main, by day and night, 
 With hazard of my life, to do you fervice : 
 'Tis your's, if I am croft, to pardon me, 
 My undertakings fail indeed, but then 
 I fpare no pains. Do better if you can, 
 And fend me packing. 
 
 Pam. Ay, with all my heart : 
 Place me but where you found me firft. 
 
 Davus. I will. 
 
 Pam.
 
 66 T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 Pam. But do it inftantly. 
 Davits. Hift ! hold awhile : 
 I hear the creaking of Glycerium's door.* 
 Pam. Nothing to you. 
 J)avus. I'm thinking. 
 Pam. What, at laft ? 
 Davus. Your bufmefs fnall be done, and prefently. 
 
 S E E N E III. 
 Enter M Y S I S. 
 
 Myfis to Glycer. within.'} Be where he will, I'll find 
 
 your Pamphilus, 
 
 And bring him with me. Meanwhile, you, my foul, 
 Forbear to vex yourfelf. 
 
 Pam. Myfis ! 
 
 Myfis. Who's there ? 
 Oh Pamphilus, well met, Sir ! 
 
 Pam. What's the matter ? 
 
 Myfis. My miftrefs, by the love you bear her, begs 
 
 * The creaking of Glycerium's on the in fide, as appears from 
 
 dt>or.~\ We learn from Plutarch, Pliny, Book xxxvi. Ch. 15. But 
 
 in Publicola, that when any one the creaking meant here is more 
 
 was coming out, he flruck the probably that of the door itfelf 
 
 door on the infide, that fuch as upon the hinges, to prevent 
 
 were without might be warned which in the night-time, it was 
 
 to take care, left they might be ufual for lovers to pour wine or 
 
 hurt. The doors of the Ro- water upon them. PATRICK. 
 mans, on the contrary, opened 
 
 3 Your
 
 THEANDRIAN. 67 
 
 Your prefence inftantly. She longs to fee you. 
 
 Pam. Ah, I'm undone: This fore breaks out afrefh. 
 Unhappy that we are, thro' your curfl means, 
 To be tormented thus ! [/0 Davus.] She has been told 
 A nuptial is prepar'd, and therefore fends. 
 
 Char. From which how fafe you were, had he been 
 quiet ! pointing to Davus. 
 
 Davus. Ay, if he raves not of himfelf enough, 
 Do, irritate him. \to Charinus. 
 
 Myfts. Truly that's the caufe ; 
 And therefore 'tis, poor foul, me fbrrows thus. 
 
 Pam. Myfis, I fwear to thee by all the Gods, 
 I never will defert her: tho' affur'd 
 That for her I make all mankind my foes.* 
 I fought her, carried her : our hearts are one, 
 And farewell they that wilh us put afunder ! 
 Death, only death (hall part us. 
 
 Myfis. I revive. 
 
 Pam. Apollo's oracles are not more true. 
 If that my father may be wrought upon, 
 
 * For her I make all mankind my general expreffion of paflion ; 
 
 foes.'] Donatus obfervcs the pe- for in the very next fpeech 
 
 culiar modefty of Pamphilus in Pamphilus, by a very natural 
 
 this paffage, wherein though he gradation, proceeds to mention 
 
 . means to glance at his father, Simo. It muft however be aL 
 
 he rather chafes to include him lowed, that in his greateft eroo- 
 
 among the reft of mankind, tion he preferves a temperance 
 
 than to point him oat parti- and amiable refpeft towards his 
 
 cularly. I am apt to think no- father, 
 thing more is intended than a 
 
 To
 
 68 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 To think I hinder*d not the match, 'tis well : 
 But if that cannot be, come what come may, 
 Why let him know, 'twas I. What think you now ? 
 
 [to Ckar. 
 
 Char. That we are wretches both. 
 
 Davus. My brain's at work. 
 
 Char. Oh brave ! 
 
 Pam. I know what you'd attempt. 
 
 Davus. Well, well ! 
 I will effecl: it for you. 
 
 Pam. Ay, but now. 
 
 Davus. E'en now. 
 
 Char. What is't ? 
 
 Davus. For him. Sir, not for you. 
 Be not miftaken. 
 
 Char. I am Tatisfied. 
 
 Pam. Well, what do you propofe ? 
 
 Davus. This day, I fear, 
 Is fcarce fufficient for the execution, 
 So think not I have leifure to relate. 
 Hence then! You hinder me : hence, hence I fay ! 
 
 Pam. I'll to Glycerium. [Exit. 
 
 Davus. Well, and what mean you ? 
 Whither will you, Sir ? 
 
 Char. Shall I fpeak the truth ? 
 
 Davus. Oh to be fure : now for a tedious tale ! 
 
 Char. What will become of me ?
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 69 
 
 Davus. How ! not content ! 
 Is it not then fufficient, if I give you 
 The refpite of a day, a little day, 
 By putting off this wedding? 
 
 Char. Ay, but Davus, 
 
 Davus. But what? 
 
 Char. That I may wed 
 
 Davus. Ridiculous! 
 
 Char. If you fucceed, come to me. 
 . Davus. Wherefore come ? 
 I can't aflift you. 
 
 Char. Should it fo fall out.--- 
 
 Davus. Well, well, I'll come. 
 
 Char. If aught, I am at home. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Mw*/DAVUS, MYSIS. 
 
 Davus. Myfis, wait here till I come forth. 
 
 Myfis. For what ? 
 
 Davus. It muft be fo. 
 
 Myfis. Mak hafte then. 
 
 Davus. In a moment, [Exit to Glycerium's. 
 
 SCENE
 
 TO T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 M Y S I S alone. 
 
 Can we fecurely then count nothing our's ? 
 Oh all ye Gods! I thought this Pamphilus 
 The greateft' good my miftrefs could obtain, 
 Friend, lover, hufband, ev'ry way a blefling : 
 And yet what woe, poor wretch, endures fhe not 
 On his account? Alas more ill than good. 
 But here comes Davus. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 Re-enter DAVUS with the child. 
 
 Myfis. Prithee, man, what now ? 
 Where are you carrying the child? 
 
 Davos. Oh; Myfis, 
 
 Now have I need of all your ready wit, 
 And all your cunning. 
 
 Myfis. What are you about ? 
 
 Davus. Quick, take the boy, and lay him at our door, 
 
 Myfis. What! on the bare ground? 
 
 Davus. From the altar then * 
 
 * From the altar then, &c.] tinned here was the altar ufually 
 Donatus and Scaliger the father placed on the ftage. When a 
 have written that the altar men* Tragedy was acted, the altar
 
 T H E A N D R I A N, 7. 
 
 Take herbs and flrew them underneath, 
 
 Myfis. And why 
 Can't you do that yourfelf ? 
 
 Davus. Becaufe, fuppofmg 
 There mould be need to fwear to my old mailer 
 I did not lay the bantling there myfelf, 
 I may with a fafe confcience. [gives her the child. 
 
 Myfis. I conceive. 
 But pray how came this fudden qualm upon- you ? 
 
 Davus. Nay, but be quick, that you may com- 
 prehend 
 
 What I propofe. [Myfis lays the child at Simo'j doer ] 
 Oh Jupiter ! [looking out. 
 
 Myfis. What now ? 
 
 Davus. Here comes the father of the bride ! I 
 
 change 
 My firft intended purpofe -f . 
 
 was dedicated to Bacchus; when tus.] Thefe altars were covered 
 a Comedy, to Apollo. But in with frefh herbs every day, and 
 my opinion the Stage- Altar has it is one of thefe, to which Te- 
 no connection with this pafl*age: rence here alludes. DACIER. 
 This adventure is not to be It was a cuftom among the 
 confidered as an incident in a Romans to have an altar fa- 
 comedy, but as a thing which cre ^ to Vefta in the entrance of 
 pafles in the ftreet. Probabi- their houfes, whence it was called 
 lity therefore muft be preferved; The Veftibule* EUGRAPHIUS. 
 which it cannot be, if one of f /f/ ^ inteM 
 the Stage-Altar, employed m ^ H is firft intention doubt- 
 this place. At Athen* every Jefs was to go and inform Simo 
 houfe had an altar at the (beet of the child bei Wd at the 
 door: [which ftrcet- altars are door> DACIER . 
 alfo often mcatioued in Plau-
 
 ; 2 T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 AT->r. What you mean 
 I can't imagine. 
 
 Dr^jus. This way, from the right 
 I'll counterfeit to come: And be't your care 
 To throw in aptly now and then a word, 
 To help out the difcourfe as need requires. 
 
 Myfis. Still what you're at, I cannot comprehend. 
 But if I can afllfl, as you know belt, 
 Not to obitruct your purpofes, I'll ftay. [Davus retires. 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 Enter CHREMES^u^ towards SimoV. 
 
 Chremes. Having provided all things necefiary, 
 I now return to bid them call the bride. 
 What's here? [feeing the child,] by Hercules, a child! 
 
 Ha, woman, 
 Was't you that laid it here ? 
 
 Myfis. Where is he gone ? [looking after Davus. 
 
 Chremes. What, won't you anfwer me? 
 
 Myfis. looking about. ~] Not here : Ah me ! 
 The fellow's gone, and left me in the lurch. 
 [Davus coming forward and pretending not to fee them. 
 
 Davus. Good heavens, what confufion at the Forum ! 
 The people all difputing with each other ! 
 The market-price is fo confounded high. \kud~ 
 What to fay elfe I know not. [ajidc. 
 
 Myfis
 
 THEANDRIAN. 73 
 
 Myjis to Davus. ~\ What d'ye mean 
 
 [Chremes retires ', andliftens to their converfation. 
 By leaving me alone ? 
 
 Davus. What farce is this ? 
 
 Ha, Myfis, whence this child ? Who brought it here? 
 Myfis. Have you yooir wits, to afk me fuch a 
 
 queftion ? 
 
 Davus. Whom mould I afk, when no one elfe is here? 
 Cbr ernes behind.'] I wonder whence it comes, [to bimfelf* 
 Davus. Wilt anfwer me ? [loud. 
 
 Myfis. Ah ! \ttnfnfed 1 . 
 
 Davits. This way to the right ! [apart to Myfis. 
 Myfis. You're raving mad. 
 Was't not yourfelf ? 
 
 Davits. I charge you not a word, 
 But what I afk you. [apart to Myfis. 
 
 Myfis. Do you threaten me ? 
 Davus. Whence comes this child ? [loud. 
 
 Myfis. From our houfe.* 
 Davus. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 * From our houfe. ~\ A NOBIS. diate obfervation of Chremes, 
 
 Moft of the Books read rtvo BIS, that flie was the Andrian's 
 
 but I am perfuaded-the other is maid, is more agreeable to this 
 
 the right reading. Thefn&is, fcnfe. Befides the mention of 
 
 the child really came frcm CMy- the other family is referred for 
 
 cerium's, and Davus's laugh- the anfwers drawn from Myfis 
 
 ing at the impudence of Myfis by Davus's alking her wbofe 
 
 in owning it, and the immedi- child it was. 
 
 VOL. I. G No
 
 74 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 No wonder that a harlot has aflurance. 
 
 Chrcmcs. This is the Andrian's fervant-maid, I take it, 
 
 Davits. Do we then feem to you iuch proper folks 
 To play thefe tricks upon ? [loud to Myf. 
 
 Cbremcs. I came in time. [to himfelf. 
 
 Davus. Make hafle, and take your bantling from 
 
 our door. [loud. 
 
 Hold! do not ftir from where you are, be fure. [foftty* 
 
 Myfis. A plague upon you : you fo terrify me ! 
 
 Davus. Wench, did I fpeak to you or no ? [loud. 
 
 Myfis. What would you? 
 
 Davus. What would I ? Say, whofe child have 
 
 you laid here ? 
 Tell me. [loud. 
 
 My fa. You don't know ? 
 
 Davus. Plague of what I know : 
 Tell what I afk. Uflb- 
 
 Myfis. Your's. 
 
 Davus. Ours ! Whofe I [loud. 
 
 Myfis. Pamphilus's. 
 
 Davus. How fay you ? Pamphilus*s ? [loud, 
 
 Myfis. To be fure. 
 
 Ckrcmcs. I had good caufe to be againft this 
 
 match. >^'A \. to hiwfelf- 
 
 Davus. O monftrous impudence I [bawling. 
 
 Myfis. Why all this noife ? 
 
 Davus. Did not I Ice this~child convey'd by ftcalth 
 
 Into 
 
 r 

 
 THEANDRIAN. 75 
 
 Into your houfe laft night ? 
 
 Myfis. Oh rogue! 
 
 Davus. 'Tis true. 
 I faw old Canthara ftufPd out. 
 
 Myfis. Thank heav'n, 
 *Some free-women were prefent at her labour. 
 
 Davus. Troth, fhe don't know the gentleman, for 
 
 whom 
 
 She plays this game. She thinks, mould Chremes fee 
 The child laid here, he would not grant his daughter 
 Faith, he would grant her the more willingly. 
 
 Chremes. Not he indeed. [to himfelf. 
 
 Davits. But now, one word for all, 
 Take up the child ; or I mall trundle him 
 Into the middle of the ftreet, and roll 
 You, madam, in the mire. 
 
 Myjis. The fellow's drunk. 
 
 Davus. One piece of knavery begets another : 
 Now, I am told, 'tis whifper'd all about, 
 That me's a citizen of Athens [loud. 
 
 Chremes. How ! 
 
 Davus. fAnd that by law he will be forc'd to wed her. 
 
 * Some free-*ivomen.~\ Free- Among the laws of Athens was 
 women : For in Greece as \vell that equitable one, which com- 
 as in Italy, flaves were not ad- pelled the man to marry her 
 mitted to give evidence. DA- whom he had debauched, if (he 
 CIER. was a free-woman. COOKE. 
 
 t And that fy laiv, l>\-.]
 
 76 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 Myfis. Why prithee is (he not a citizen ? 
 
 Cbremes. What a fine fcrape was I within a hair 
 Of being drawn into ! [to himfelf. 
 
 Daws. What voice is that ? [turning about. 
 Oh Chremes ! you are come in time. Attend ! 
 
 Cbremes. I have heard all already. 
 
 Davus. You've heard all? 
 
 Cbremes. Yes, all, I fay, from firft to laft. 
 
 Davus. Indeed ? 
 
 Good lack, \vhat knaveries ! This lying jade 
 Shou'd be dragg'd hence to torture.* This is he ! 
 
 [to Myfis. 
 
 Think not 'twas Davus you impofed upon. 
 Myfis. Ah me! Good Sir, I fpoke the truth indeed. 
 
 Cbremes. I know the whole. Is Simo in the houfe ? 
 
 Davits. Yes, Sir. [Exit Chrem. 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 Manent DAVUS, MYSIS. Davus runs up to ler. 
 
 Myfis. Don't offer to touch me, you villain ! 
 If I don't tell my miftrefs every word 
 
 * To torture."] Implying that flares to be put to the torture, 
 
 fhe ought to be put to the tor- PATRICK. 
 ture to confcfs the truth ; for The fame cuftom is alluded to 
 
 it was a common way at Athens in the Scene between Mitio. 
 
 to force the truth from flaves Hegio, and Gta, in the Bro- . 
 
 by torture. Thus in the ftcp- thers. 
 mother, Bacchis offers her
 
 THEANDRIAN. 77 
 
 , Why you don't know, you fool, what good 
 
 we've done. 
 Myjts. How fnould I ? 
 Daws. This is father to the bride : 
 Nor could it otherv/ife have been contrived 
 That he fhould know what we would have him. 
 
 Myfis. Well, 
 
 You fhou'd have giv'n me notice. 
 Davus. Is there then * 
 
 * Is there then r.e Jiff'rcKee, &c. ] 
 It is an obfervation of Voltaire 
 in the preface to his comedy of 
 L'Enfant Prodigue, that al- 
 though there are various kinds 
 of pleaiantry that excite mirth, 
 yet univerfal burfts of laughter 
 are feldom produced, unlefs by 
 a fcene of miflake or ezquivoque, 
 A thoufand inftances might be 
 given to prove the truth of this 
 cbfervation. There is fcarce 
 any writer of Comedy, who has 
 not drawn from this fource of 
 humour. A fcene founded on 
 a miiunderftanding between the 
 parties, where the characters 
 arc all at crofs purpofes with 
 eacn other, never fails to fet 
 the audience in a roar : nor in 
 deed can ;hcro be a happier in- 
 cident in a comedy, if produced 
 naturally, and managed judici- 
 oufly. 
 
 The fcenes in this act, occa- 
 iicr.sd by the artifice of Davus 
 
 concerning the child, do not 
 Jail directly under the obferva- 
 tion of Voltaire, but are, how- 
 ever, fo much of the fame co- 
 lour, that if reprefented on the 
 llage, they would, I doubt not, 
 have the like effect, and be the 
 beft means of confuting thofe 
 infidel criticks, who maintain 
 that Terence has no humour. I 
 do not remember a fcene in any 
 comedy, where there is fuch a 
 natural complication of pleafant 
 circumftances. Davus's fudden 
 change of" his intentions on fee- 
 ing Chremes, without having 
 time to explain himfelf toMyfis; 
 her confufion and comical dif- 
 trefs, together with the genuine 
 Simplicity of her anfwers ; and 
 the conclufion drawn by Chre- 
 mes from their fuppofcd quar- 
 rel ; are all finely imagined, 
 and directly calculated for the 
 purpofes of exciting the higheft 
 nr.irth in the fpcctators. The 
 
 G 3 words
 
 7 T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 No difPrence, think you, whether all you fay 
 Falls naturally from the heart, or comes 
 From dull premeditation ? 
 
 SCENE IX. 
 Enter C R I T O. 
 
 Crito. In this ilreet 
 
 Thfcy fay that Chryfis Hv'd: who rather chofe 
 To heap up riches here by wanton ways, 
 Than to live poor and honeftly at home : 
 She dead, her fortune comes by law to me. * 
 
 words of Davus to Myfis in this 
 fpeech ' Is there then, &c. have 
 the air of an oblique praife of 
 this fcene from the Poet him- 
 felf, {hewing with what art it 
 is introduced, and how natural' 
 ly it is fuftaincd. 
 
 Sir Richard Steele had devi- 
 ated fo much from Terence in 
 the original confirmation of his 
 fable, that he bad no oppor- 
 tunity of working this fcene in- 
 to it. Baron, who, I fuppofe, 
 was afraid to hazard it on the 
 French Theatre, fills up the 
 chafm by bringing Glycerium 
 on the ftage. She, amufed by 
 Davus with a forged tale of the 
 falfehood of Paraphilus, throws 
 herfelf at the feet of Chremes, 
 
 and prevails on him once more 
 to break off the intended match 
 with Philumena. In confe- 
 quence of this alteration, the 
 moft lively part of the comedy 
 in Terence, becomes the graveft 
 in Baron ; the artifice of Davus 
 is carried on with the moft 
 ftarch formality ; and the whole 
 incident, as conducted in the 
 French imitation, lofes all that 
 air of eafe and pleafantry, which 
 it wears in the original. 
 
 * She dead, her fortune ccmcs 
 ly la<w to )nc.~\ Supposing 
 Chryfis to have died without 
 a will, in which cafe the near- 
 eft of kin was heir at by.-. 
 PATRICK. 
 
 But
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 79 
 
 But I lee perfons to enquire of. [goes up] Save you ! 
 
 Myfis. Good now, who's that I fee ? is it not Crito, 
 Chryfis's Kinfman ? Ay, the very fame. 
 
 Crito. O Myfis, fave you ! 
 
 Myfis. Save you, Crito ! 
 
 Crito. Chryfis* 
 Is then ha ? 
 
 Myfis. Ay, flie has left Us, poor fouls ! 
 
 Crito. And ye^ how go you on here? pretty well? 
 
 Myfis. We ? as we can, as the old faying goes, 
 When, as we would, we cannot. 
 
 Crito. And Glycerium, 
 Has Ihe found out her parents ? 
 
 Myfis. Wou'd (he had ! 
 
 Crito. Not yet ! an ill wind blew me hither then. 
 For truly, had I been appriz'd of that, 
 I'd ne'er have fet foot here: For this Glycerium 
 Was always call'd and thought to be her fifter. 
 What Chryfis left, She takes pofleflion of : 
 And now for me, a ftranger, to commence -f- 
 A law-fuit here, how good and wife it were, 
 
 * Cbryfis isthen ha?~\ This f For me, a Jir anger, to com- 
 manner of expreffion, avoid- mence a /a-iv-fuit.] Madam Da- 
 ing the direft mention of cier obferves, that it appears 
 a mocking circumftance, and from Xenophon's treatifeon the 
 foftening it as far as poflible, policy of the Athenians, that 
 carries in it a great deal of ten- all the inhabitants of cities and 
 dernefs. PATRICK. iflands in alliance with Athens 
 G 4 were
 
 Jo THEANDRIAN. 
 
 Other examples teach me. She, I warrant, 
 Has got her forne gallant too, fome defender : 
 For fhe wis growing up a jolly girl 
 When firft me journied hither. They will cry- 
 That I'm a petty-fogger, fortune-hunter, 
 A beggar. And befides it were not well 
 To leave her in diflrefs. 
 
 Myfis. Good foul! Troth, Crito, 
 You have the good old-fafhion'd honefly. 
 
 Crito. Well, fmce I am arriv'd here, bring me to her. 
 That I may fee her. 
 
 Mjifis. Ay, with all my heart. 
 
 Davus. I will in with them : for I wou'd not chufe 
 That our old gentleman fhould fee me now. [Exeunt. 
 
 were obliged, in ail claims, to wonder then that Crito is un- 
 repair thither, and refer their wi.ling to engage in a fuit fo 
 caufe to the deciucn of the inconvenient from its length, 
 ic, not being permitted to expence, and little profpeft of 
 plead eHewhere. We cannot fcccefs. PATRICK. 
 
 ACT
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 81 
 
 ACT V. SCENE I. 
 
 CHREMES, SIMO. 
 
 Cbremes. T"^ NOUGH already, Simo, and enough 
 J . J I've fhewn my friendfhip for you-, 
 
 hazarded 
 
 Enough of peril : urge me then no more ! 
 Wifhing to pleafe you, I had near deftroy'd 
 My daughter's peace and happinefs for ever. 
 
 Simo. Ah, Chremes, I muft now intreat the more, 
 More urge you to confirm the promised boon. 
 
 Chremes. Mark, howunjuftyou are thro* wilfulnefs ! 
 So you obtain what you demand, you fet 
 No bounds to my compliance, nor confider 
 What you requeft; for if you did confider, 
 You'd cede to load me with thefe injuries. 
 
 Simo. What injuries ? 
 
 Cbremes. Is that a queflion now ? 
 Have you not driven me to plight my child 
 To one poffeft with other love, averfe 
 To marriage ; to expofe her to divorce, 
 And crazy nuptials j by her woe and bane 
 
 To
 
 82 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 To work a cure for your diftemper'd fon ? 
 You had prevaiPd ; I travell'd in the match, 
 While circumftances would admit -, but now 
 The cafe is chang'd, content you : It is faid, 
 That fhe's a citizen j a child is born : 
 Prithee excufe us ! 
 
 Simo. Now, for heaven's fake, 
 Believe not Them, whofe intereft it is 
 To make him vile and abject as themfelves. 
 Th'efe ftories are all feign'd, concerted all, 
 To break the match : when the occafion's paft, 
 That urges them to this, they will defift. 
 
 Chremes. Oh, you miftake : E'en now I faw the maid 
 Wrangling with Davus. 
 
 Simo. Artifice ! mere trick. 
 
 Chremes. Ay, but in earneftj and when neither knew 
 That I was there. 
 
 Simo. It may be fo : and Davus 
 Told me before-hand they'd attempt all this ; 
 Though I, I know not how, forgot to tell you. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Enter DAVUS from GlyceriumV. 
 
 Davus to himfelfJ] He may be eafy now, I warrant 
 him 
 
 Cbremes. See, yonder's Davus. 
 
 Simo.
 
 THE ANDRIAN. 8 3 
 
 Simo. Ha ! whence comes the rogue ? 
 
 Davus. By my afiiftance, and this ftranger's fafe. 
 
 [to himfelf. 
 
 Simo. What mifchief 's this ? [liftening. 
 
 Davus. A more commodious man, 
 Arriving juft in feafon, at a time 
 So critical, I never knew. [to him f elf. 
 
 Simo. A knave ! 
 Who's that he praifes ? [liftening. 
 
 Davus. All is now fecure. [to himfelf. 
 
 Simo. Why don't I fpeak to him ? 
 
 Davus. My mafter here ! [turning about. 
 
 What mail I do ? [to bimfdf. 
 
 Simo. Good Sir, your humble fervant! [fneering. 
 
 Davus. Oh, Simo ! and our Chremes ! All is now 
 Prepard within. 
 
 Simo. You've taken fpecial care. [ironically, 
 
 Davus. E'en call them when you pleafe. 
 
 Simo. Oh, mighty fine ! 
 That to be fure is all that's wanting now. 
 But tell me, Sir ! what bufmefs had you there ? 
 
 [feinting to Glycerium'j. 
 
 Davus. I? [confufed. 
 
 Simo. You. 
 
 Davus. I ? [ftammering. 
 
 Simo. You, Sir. 
 
 J)avus. I went in but now. [di for tiered. 
 
 5 Sim.
 
 84 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 Simo. As if I alk'd, how long it was ago ! 
 
 Davus. With Pamphilus, 
 
 Sims. Is Pamphilus within ? 
 Oh torture! Did not you afiure me, firrah, 
 They were at variance ? 
 
 Davits. So they are. 
 
 Simo. Why then 
 Is Pamphilus within ? 
 
 Ckremes. Oh, why d'ye think ? 
 He's gone to quarrel with her. [filtering. 
 
 Davus. Nay but, Chremes, 
 There's more in this, and you fhall hear ftrange 
 
 news. 
 
 There's an old countryman, I know not who, 
 Is. juft arriv'd here , confident and fhrewd ; 
 His look befpeaks him of fome confequence. 
 A, grave feverity is. in his face, 
 And credit, in his words. 
 
 Simo. What ftory now ? 
 
 Dai-us. Nay, nothing, Sir, but what I heard him 
 fay. 
 
 Simo. And what fays he, then ? 
 
 Davits. That he's well affur'd 
 Ctfycerium's an Athenian citizen. 
 
 Simo. Ho, Dromo ! Dromo ! {calling. 
 
 Davus. What now ? 
 
 Simo. Dromo! 
 
 Davus.
 
 T H E A N D R I A .N; $5 
 
 Davus. Hear me. 
 
 Simo. Speak but a word more Dromo ! 
 Davus. Pray, Sir, hear ! 
 
 SCENE III. 
 Enter DROMO. 
 
 Dromo. Your pleafure, Sir ? 
 
 Simo, Here drag him headlong in, 
 And triifs the rafcal up immediately. 
 
 Dromo. Whom ? 
 
 Simo. Davus. 
 
 Davus. Why ? 
 
 Simo. Becaufe I'll have it To. 
 Take him, I fay. 
 
 Davus. For what offence ? 
 
 Simo. Off with him. 
 
 Davus. If it appear that I've faid aught but truth, 
 Put me to death. 
 
 Simo. I will not hear. I'll trounce you. 
 
 Davus. But tho' it mould prove true, Sir ! 
 
 Simo. True or falfe. 
 
 See that you keep him bound : and do you hear ? 
 *Bind the (lave hand and foot. Away! 
 
 {Exeunt Dromo and Davus. 
 
 * Bind the Jlave band and the Athenians to tie criminals, 
 foot."} QUADRUPEDEM con- hand and feet together, like a 
 jlrlngito. It was ufual among calf. ECHARD. 
 
 SCENE
 
 THEANDRIAN. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Mamnt SIMO, CHREMES. 
 
 By heav'n, 
 
 As I do live, I'll make you know this day 
 
 What peril lies in trifling with a mailer, 
 
 And make Him know what 'tis to plague a father. 
 
 Chremes. Ah, be not in Jfuch rage. 
 
 Simo. Oh Chremes, Chremes, 
 Filial unkindnefs ! Don't you pity me? 
 To feel all this for fuch a thanklefs fon ! 
 Here, Pamphilus, come forth ! ho, Pamphilus ! 
 Have you no fhame ? [calling at Glycerium'j- door. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 Enter PAMPHILUS. 
 
 Pam. Who calls ? Undone ! my father 
 
 Simo. What fay you ? Moft 
 
 Cbremes. Ah, rather fpeak at once 
 Your purpole, Simo, and forbear reproach, 
 
 Simo. As if 'twere poffible to utter aught 
 Severer than he merits ! Tell me then ; [to Pam. 
 Glycerium is a citizen ? 
 
 Pam. They fay fo. 
 
 Simo,
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 87 
 
 Simo. They fay fo! Oh amazing impudence I- 
 Does he confider what he fays ? docs he 
 Repent the deed ? or does his colour take 
 The hue of fhame ? To be fo weak of foul, 
 Againft the cuftom of our citizens, 
 * Againft the law, againft his father's will, 
 To wed himfelf to fhame and this vile woman. 
 
 Pam. Wretch that I am ! 
 
 Simo. Ah, Pamphilus ! d'ye feel 
 Your wretchednefs at laft ? Then, then, when firft 
 You wrought upon your mind at any rate 
 To gratify your paflion ; from that hour 
 Well might you feel your ftate of wretchednefs. 
 
 But why give in to this ? Why torture thus, 
 Why vex my fpirit ? Why afflict my age 
 For his ch'ftemp'rature ? Why rue his fins ? 
 
 No; let him have her, joy in her, live with her 
 Pam. My father! - 
 
 Simo. How, iiy father I can I think -f- 
 You want this father ? You that for yourfelf 
 A home, a wife, and children have acquir'd . 
 
 * Againjl the /anv.~\ There f Simo. flew, my 
 
 was a law among the Athenians, Donatus is full of admiration 
 
 that no citizen fhould marry a of this fpeech, and tells us 
 
 ftranger ; which law alfo ex- that it was not taken from 
 
 eluded fuch as were not born Menander, but original in Te- 
 
 of two citizens from all offices rence. 
 of truft and honour. See Pin- 
 tarch'i life cf Ptricles. COOKE. 
 
 Againft
 
 88 T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 Againft your father's will ? And witnefles 
 Suborn'd, to prove that fhe's a citizen ? 
 You've gain'd your point. 
 
 Pam. My father, but one word ! 
 
 Simo. What would you fay ? 
 
 Chremes. Nay, hear him, Simo. 
 
 Simo. Hear him ? 
 What muft I hear then, Chremes ? 
 
 Cbrcmes. Let him fpeak. 
 
 Simo. Well, let him fpeak : I hear him. 
 
 Pam. I confefs, 
 
 I love Glycerium : if it be a fault, 
 That too I do confefs. To you, my father, 
 I yield myfelf : difpofe me as you pleafe ! 
 Command me ! Say, that I mail take a wife -, 
 Leave Her - y I will endure it, as I may. 
 This only I befeech you, think not I 
 Suborn'd this old man hither. Suffer me 
 To clear myfelf, and bring him here before you. 
 
 Simo. Bring him here ! 
 
 Pam. Let me, father ! 
 
 Chremes. 'Tis but juft : 
 Permit him ! 
 
 Pam. Grant me this ! 
 
 Simo. Well, be it fo. *Exit Pamphilus. 
 
 * Exit Pamphilus.] The a- had not, it feems, fufficient 
 bove fcene, admirable as it is, temptations for Sir Richard 
 
 Steele
 
 THE ANDRIAN, 
 
 I could bear all this bravely, Chremes-, more", 
 Much more, to know that he deceiv'd me not. 
 Cbremes. For a great fault a little puniiliment 
 Suffices to a father. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 Re-enter PAMPHILUS with CRITG, 
 
 Crito. Say no more ! 
 
 Any of thefe inducements would prevail : 
 Or your entreaty, or that it is truth, 
 Or that I wim it for Glycerium's fake. 
 
 Chremes. Whom do I fee ? Crito, the Andrian ? 
 
 Steele to induce him to include 
 it in his plan Of the Confcious 
 Lovers. Bevil and his Father 
 are never brought to an open 
 rupture, like Simo and Pam- 
 philus, but rather induflrioufly 
 kept from coming to any ex- 
 planation, which is one reafon 
 of the infipidity and want of 
 fpirit in their characters. It 
 muft be obvious to every reader, 
 how naturally this fcene brings 
 on the cataftrophe : how inju- 
 dicioufly then has the English 
 Poet deprived his audience of 
 the pleafure that muft have a- 
 rifen from it in the reprefenta- 
 tion, and contented himfelf with 
 making Sir J. Bevil declare, at 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 entering with his fon, after the 
 difcovery is over, " Your good 
 " filter, Sir, has with the ftory 
 " of your daughter's fortune 
 " filled us with furprize and 
 " joy ! Now all exceptions are 
 " removed ; my fon has now 
 " avowed his love, and turned 
 " all former jealoufies and 
 " doubts to approbation, and*, 
 " I am told, your goodncfs has 
 " confented to reward him:" 
 How manydramatick incidents, 
 what fine pictures of the man- 
 ners, has Terence drawn from 
 the circumftances huddled to- 
 gether in tlvefe few lines of Sit 
 Richard Steele ! 
 
 H 
 
 Nay
 
 9 o T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 Nay certainly 'tis Crito. 
 Crito. Save you, Chremes ! 
 Chremes. What has brought you to Athens ? 
 Crito. Accident. 
 But is this Simo ? 
 Chremes. Ay. 
 Simo. Afks he for me ? 
 So, Sir, you fay that this Glycerium 
 Is an Athenian citizen ? 
 
 Crito. Do you 
 Deny it ? 
 
 Simo. What then are you come prepar'd ? 
 Crito. Prepar'd'! for what ? 
 Simo. And dare you afk for what ? 
 Shall you proceed thus with impunity ? 
 Lay fnares for inexperienc'd, lib'ral, youth, 
 With fraud, temptation, and fair promifes 
 Soothing their minds ? 
 
 Crito. Have you your wits ? 
 Simo. And then 
 With marriage folder up their harlot loves ? 
 
 Pam. Alas, I fear the ftranger will not bear this. 
 
 \afide. 
 Chremes. Knew you this perfon, Simo, you'd not 
 
 think thus : 
 He's a good man. 
 
 Simo. A good man he ? To come, 
 
 Altho*
 
 T H E A N D R I A N. 91 
 
 Altho* at Athens never feen till now, 
 So opportunely on the wedding-day ! 
 Is fuch a fellow to be trufted, Chremes ? 
 
 Pam. *But that I fear my father, I could make 
 That matter clear to him, \afide. 
 
 Simo. A Sharper ! 
 
 Crito. How ? 
 
 Chrcmes. It is his humour, Crito: do not heed him, 
 
 Crito. Let him look to't. If he perfifts in faying 
 Whate'er he pleafes, I mail make him hear 
 Something that may difpleafe him. Do I flir 
 In thefe affairs, or make them my concern ? 
 Bear your misfortunes patiently ! For me, 
 If I fpeak true or falfe, mall now be known. 
 " A man of Athens once upon a time 
 " Was mipwreck'd on the coaft of Andros : with him 
 " This very woman, then an infant. He 
 " In this diftrefs applied, it fo fell out, 
 c For help to Chryfis' father 
 
 * But that I fear, ffr.] A7 with theVatican Terence, feemj 
 
 tnttuampatrem, kabeo pro ilia re to underftand the words in the 
 
 ilium quod moneam probe. Ma- fame manner that I have tranf- 
 
 dam Dacier, and feveral En- lated them, in which fenfe (the 
 
 glilh tranflations, make Pam- pronoun ilium referring to Simo 
 
 philus fay that he could give inftead of Crito) they feem to 
 
 Crito a hint or two. What be the moft natural words of 
 
 hints he could propofe to fug- Pamphilus on occafion of his 
 
 gelt to Crito I cannot conceive, father's anger, and the fpeech 
 
 The Italian translation, printed immediately preceding. 
 
 H 2
 
 92 T H E A N D R I A X. 
 
 Simo. All romance. 
 ChremesT Let him alone. 
 Crito And will he interrupt me ? 
 Chremes. Go on. 
 
 Crito. " Now Chryfis' father, who receiv'd him, 
 " Was my relation. There I've often heard 
 " The man himfelf declare, he was of Athens. 
 " There too he died." 
 Chremes. His name ? 
 Crito. His name, fo quickly ?- 
 Phania^ 
 
 Chremes. Amazement! 
 Crito. Troth, I think 'twas Phania ; 
 But this I'm fure, he faid he was of Rhamnus*. 
 
 Chremes. Oh Jupiter ! 
 . Crito. Thefe circumftances, Chremes, 
 Were known to many others, then in Andros. 
 
 Crm<y.Heav'ngrantitmaybeasIwifh!- Inform me, 
 Whofe daughter, faid he, was the child ? his own ? 
 Crito. No, not his own. 
 Cbremes. Whofe then ? 
 Crito. His brother's daughter. 
 Chremes. Mine, mine, undoubtedly ! 
 Crito. What fay you ? 
 
 * 0/Rbamus.] Rhamnus, maritime towns of Attica, near 
 and fuch other places often which the more wealthy Athe- 
 mentioned in Terence, were nians had country feats. PATR. 
 
 Simo.
 
 THE ANDRIAN. 93 
 
 Simo, How ! 
 
 Pam. Hark, Pamphilus ! 
 Simo. But why believe yon this ? 
 Chr ernes. That Phania was my brother. 
 Simo. True. I knew him. 
 Cbremts. He, to avoid the war, departed hence : 
 And fearing 'twere unfafe to leave the child, 
 Embark'd with her in queft of me for Afia : 
 Since when I've heard no news of him till now. 
 
 Pam. I'm fcarce myfelf, my mind is fo enrapt 
 With fear, hope, joy, and wonder of fo great, 
 So fudden happinefs. 
 
 Simo. Indeed, my Chremes, 
 I heartily rejoice me's found your daughter. 
 Pam. I do believe you, father. 
 Chremes. But one doubt 
 There flill remains, which gives me pain. 
 
 Pam. Away 
 
 With all your doubts ! You puzzle a plain caufe. [afide* 
 Crito. What is that doubt ? 
 Chremes. That name does not agree. 
 Crito. She had another, when a child. 
 Chremes. What, Crito ? 
 Can you remember ? 
 
 Crito. I am hunting for it. 
 Pam. Shall then his memory oppofe my blifs, 
 When I can minifter the cure myfelf? 
 
 H 3 No,
 
 94 T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 No, I will not permit it. Hark you, Chremes, 
 The name is Pafibula. 
 
 Crito. True. 
 
 Chrcmes. The fame. 
 
 Pam. I've heard it from herfelf a thoufand times, 
 
 Simo.. Chremes, I truft you will believe, we all 
 Rejoice at this. 
 
 Cbrewes. 'Fore heaven I believe fo, 
 
 Pam. And now, my father 
 
 Simo. Peace, fon! the event 
 Has reconcil'd me. 
 
 Pam. O thou beft of fathers ! 
 Does Chremes too confirm Glycerium mine ? 
 
 Chremes. And with good caufe, if Simo hinder not, 
 
 Pam. Sir ! [io Simo *. 
 
 Simo. Be it fo. 
 
 Chremes. My daughter's portion is 
 Ten talents, Pamphilus. f 
 
 * "P. Sir! Si. Be it fo.~\ P. Madam Dac:er, who entertain^ 
 Nempe. Si. IJ fcihcet. Donatus, a juft veneration for Donatus, 
 and fome others after him, un- doubts the authenticity of the 
 derftanci thi ,c words of Simo o'ofervation afcribed to him. 
 and Pamphilus, as requiring a The fenfe I have followed is, I 
 fortune of Clircmes with his think, the moft obvious and na- 
 dau^hter: and one of them fays, tural interpretation of the words 
 that Simo, in order to explain of Pamphilus and Simo, which 
 his meaning in the repreftnta- refer to the preceding, not the 
 tion, fbould produce a bag of fubicquent fpeech, of Chremes. 
 money. This furely is preci- 
 ous refinement, worthy the ge- -f My daughter''! portion is ten ta- 
 jiius of a true commentator. /^/;.] All our own tranflatorsof
 
 THE ANDRIAN. 
 
 Patn. I am content. 
 
 Chremes. I'll to her inftantly : and prithee, Crito, 
 Along with me ! for fure me knows me not. 
 
 * [Exeunt Chremes and Crito. 
 
 this poet have betrayed great ig- 
 norance in their eftimations of 
 antient fums : and Madam Da- 
 cier, and the common Latin 
 Interpreters, feem not to have 
 given themfelves much trouble 
 on this head : but this part of 
 antient learning ought not to be 
 pafled over fiightly, fince the 
 wealth and plenty qf a great 
 and famous ftate are to be dif- 
 covered from it. The name of 
 the Talent ought to be preferv- 
 ed in a tranfiation, as mould 
 the Mina, Plalf-filina, Drachma, 
 and Obolus, for the fame reafon 
 for which Terence preferved 
 them in his Latin Tranflations 
 of Greek Plays, i-iz. becaufe 
 the fcene is in Athens, and thefe 
 are Attick pieces of money. 
 The common Attick Talent, 
 which is the Talent mentioned 
 thro' Terence, contained fixty 
 Minse, as Gronovius, in a note 
 to the Ciftcllaria of Plautus, 
 end other accurate Enquirers 
 have agreed. TenTalents there- 
 fore were equal to 1937!. los. 
 of our money, which we may 
 reafonably fuppofe a tolerable 
 good fortune, confiden'ng the 
 price of provifions then in that 
 part of Greece; which we 
 
 may partly judge of from the 
 paffage, where the Ol/olus is 
 mentioned in the fecond aft of 
 this play. COOKE. 
 
 * Exeunt Chremes aWCrito.] 
 Crito is, as Donatus calls him, 
 ptrfona in cataftrophen machinata, 
 a character formed to bring a- 
 bout the cataftrophe. To fup- 
 ply his place in the fable, Sir 
 Richard Steele has converted 
 Phania, the brother of Chremes 
 mentioned in the foregoing 
 fcene, into a filler, and fubfti- 
 tuted Ifabella for Crito. But 
 here, I think, and in almoft 
 every circumflance of the dif- 
 covery, the art of the Englifh 
 Poet is much inferior to that of 
 his Original. Ifabella does not 
 maintain her importance in the 
 Drama fo well as Crito. Indi- 
 ana indeed ferves to add a de- 
 gree of Pathos to the fcene : 
 but the relation of the incidents 
 of her life, acd throwing offher 
 little ornaments in a kind of 
 Tragedy-Rant, till Ifabella ap- 
 pears to unravel the myftery, is 
 furely much lefs natural than 
 the minute detail of circum- 
 flances, fo finely produced by 
 our Author. It is, fays Do- 
 H 4 natus,
 
 t)6 T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 Simo. Why do you not give orders inftantly 
 To bring her to our houfe ? 
 
 Pam. Th' advice is good. 
 I'JJ give that charge to Davus. 
 
 Simo. It can't be. 
 
 Pam. Why ? 
 
 Simo. He has other bufinefs of his own, 
 Of nearer import to himfelf. 
 
 Pam, What bufinefs ? 
 
 Simo. He's bound. 
 
 * Pam. Bound! how, Sir! 
 
 Simo, How, Sir ? neck and heels. 
 
 Pam. Ah, let him be enlarg'd ! 
 
 Simo. It fhall be done. 
 
 Pam. But inflantly. 
 
 Simo. I'll in, and order it. [Exit. 
 
 Pam. Oh what a happy, happy, day is this ! 
 
 natus, the greateft praife, when 
 the fp ctator may imagine thole 
 things to happen by chance, 
 which are produced by the 
 utnjoft induftry of the Pcet. 
 
 P. Benin/! hew, fir! Si. 
 ),fir? nfck and heels ] Nan 
 CTE -vinfius cft. haud it a 
 The conceit in the ori- 
 
 ginal is a Pun upon the wor<J 
 refit, impoflible to bepreferved 
 exactly in the tranflation. DQ- 
 natus obfcrves very well on this 
 pafiage, that the jocularity of 
 the old gentleman on this occa- 
 fion, is a chara&eriftick marlf 
 of his thorough reconcili- 
 
 SCENE
 
 THE ANDRIAN. 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 * Enter CHARINUS behind. 
 
 Char. I come to fee what Pamphilus is doing : 
 And there he is ! 
 
 Pam. And is this true ? Yes, yes, 
 
 * Enter Charir.us.] He who 
 undertakes to conduct two in- 
 trigues at a time, impofes on 
 himfelf the neceflity of unravel- 
 ling them both at the fame in- 
 llant. If the principal concludes 
 firft, that which remains can 
 fupport itfelf no longer : if, on 
 the contrary, the epifode aban- 
 dons the main part of the fable, 
 there arifes another inconveni- 
 ence ; fome of the characters 
 either difappear without reafon, 
 or fhew themfelves again to no 
 end or purpofe ; fo that the 
 piece becomes maimed or unin- 
 tcrefting. DIDEROT. 
 
 The firft of the inconveni- 
 ences above mentioned is that 
 which occurs in the conclufion 
 of this play. The difcovery 
 once made, and Glycerium 
 given to Pamphilus, all that 
 remains becomes cold. From 
 the extreme brevity of this laft 
 
 fcene, one would imagine that 
 the Poet himfelf found this part 
 of the fable languifh under his 
 hands. Some of the commen- 
 tators, fond of that tedioufnefs, 
 which Terence was fo ftudicus 
 to avoid, have added feventeen 
 fpurious lines of dialogue be- 
 tween Charinus and Chremes. 
 Donatus, tho' he approved of 
 this underplot, which Terence 
 added to the fable of Menander, 
 yet commends his judgment in 
 avoiding prolixity, by fettling 
 only one marriage on the ftage, 
 and difpatching the other be- 
 hind the fcenes. But furely the 
 whole epifode of Charinus is 
 unneccfTary.and the fable would 
 be more clear, more compaft, 
 and more complete without it. 
 See the firft note to the fecond 
 aft. 
 
 The fifth aft of Baron is an 
 almoil literal, though very ele- 
 gant
 
 9$ T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 I know 'tis true, becaufe I wifh it fo. 
 * Therefore I think the life of Gods eternal, , 
 For that their joys are permanent : and now, 
 -f My foul hath her content fo abfolute, 
 That I too am immortal, if no ill 
 Step in betwixt me and this happinefs. 
 Oh, for a bofom-friend now to pour out 
 My ecftafies before him ! 
 
 Char. What's this rapture ? \liflening. 
 
 Pam. Oh, yonder's Davus : nobody more welcome: 
 For he, I know, will join in tranfport with me. 
 
 gant verfion, of this of our 
 Author. 
 
 It is very remarkable, that 
 though Terence is generally 
 confidered to be a grave author, 
 as a writer of Comedy, the An- 
 drian has much more humour 
 and pleafantry, than either the 
 Englifh orFrench imitation of it. 
 
 * Therefore 1 think, &c.] This 
 whole fentence is transferred by 
 our Poet to this play from the 
 Eunuch of Menander : and to 
 this praftice alludes the objec- 
 tion mentioned in thePrologue. 
 That fables mould not be con- 
 founded. DONATUS. 
 
 f- Mj Soul bath her content ft) 
 abfolute.} The paflage in Shake- 
 fpeare's Othello, from which I 
 have borrowed this line, is a 
 kind of contraft to this in our 
 Author. Each of them are 
 fpeeches of the higheft joy and 
 rapture, and each of them 
 founded on the inftability of hu- 
 man happinefs ; but the reader 
 will meet with a ftill clofer 
 comparifon between the Englifh 
 and Latin Poet in the notes to 
 the jd aft of the Eunuch, to 
 which place I have referred the 
 citation from Shakefpeare. 
 
 S C E N 6
 
 T H E A N D R I A N, 99 
 
 SCENE THE LAST. 
 Enter D A V U S. 
 
 Davits entering.'] Where's Pamphilus ? 
 
 Pam. OhDavus! 
 
 Davus.. Who's there ? 
 
 Pam. I. 
 
 Davus. Oh Pamphilus ! 
 
 Pam. You know not my good fortune, 
 
 Davus. Do you know my ill-fortune ? 
 
 Pam. To a tittle. 
 
 Davus. 'Tis after the old fafhion, that my ills 
 JShould reach your ears, before your joys reach mine* 
 
 Pam. Glycerium has difcover'd her relations. 
 
 Davus. Oh excellent ! 
 
 Char. How's that ? [liftening* 
 
 Pam. Her father is 
 Our moft near friend. 
 
 Davus. Who? 
 
 Pam. Chremes. 
 
 Dravus. Charming news ! 
 
 Pam. And I'm to marry her immediately. 
 
 Char. Is this man talking in his fleep, and dreams 
 Qn what he wilhes waking ? [liftening* 
 
 4 Pam.
 
 ioo T H E A N D R I A N. 
 
 Pam. And moreover, 
 For the child, Davus 
 
 Davus. Ah, Sir, fay no more. 
 You're th' only favourite of the Gods. 
 
 Char. I'm made 
 If this be true. I'll fpeak to them, \ccmes forward, 
 
 Pam. Who's there ? 
 Charinus ! oh, well met. 
 
 Cbar. I give you joy. 
 
 Pam. You've heard then 
 
 Char. Ev'ry word : and prithee now, 
 In your good fortune, think upon your friend. 
 Chremes is now your own ; and will perform 
 Whatever you mail afk. 
 
 Pam. 1 mail remember. 
 'Twere tedious to expect his coming forth : 
 Along with me then to Glycerium ! 
 Davus, do you go home, and haften them 
 To fetch her hence. Away, away ! 
 
 Davus. 1 go. [Exeunt Pam. and Char. 
 
 [Davus addrejjing the audience. 
 Wait not till they come forth : Within 
 She'll be betroth'd , within, if aught remains 
 Undone, 'twill be concluded. Clap your hands ! * 
 
 * Clap your handi.~\ Plaudlte. eluded in this manner. Dtntc 
 All the old Tragedies and Co- CANTOR vet PLAUDITE dicat, 
 medics acled at Rome con- fays Horace. Who the Cantor
 
 THE ANDRIAN. 
 
 was is a matter of difpute. 
 Monf. Dacier thinks it was the 
 whole Chorus ; others fuppofe 
 it to have been a fingle Aclor ; 
 fome the Prompter, and fome 
 the Compofer. 
 
 Before the word Plaudite in 
 all the old copies is an n, 
 which has alfo given rife to fe- 
 veral learned conjectures. It 
 is mofl probable, according to 
 the notion of Madam Dacier, 
 that this n, being the laft Let- 
 ter of the Greek Alphabet, 
 was nothing more than the 
 mark of the tranfcriber to fig- 
 nify the end, like the Latin 
 word Finis in modern books : 
 
 or it might, as Patrick fup- 
 pofes, ftand for fiSs;, Cantor 
 denoting that the following word 
 Plaudite, was fpoken by him. 
 
 CALLIOPIUS RECE.NSUI.] 
 After Plaudite, in all the old 
 copies of Terence, ftand thefe 
 two words: which fignify, " I 
 " Calliopius have revifed and 
 " corrected this piece." And 
 this proceeds from the cuftom 
 of the old criticks, who care- 
 fully revifed all manufcriprs : 
 and when they had read and 
 corrected any work, certified the 
 fame by placing their names at 
 the end of it. DACIEK.. 
 
 THE
 
 Emiuch .
 
 T H E 
 
 EUNUCH.
 
 t O T H E 
 
 KING'S SCHOLARS 
 
 Of St. Peter's College, Weftminfter, 
 
 THE FOLLOWING COMEDY, 
 TRANSLATED FROM TERENCE, 
 
 IS HUMBLY INSCRIBED, 
 BY THEIR MOST HUMBLE SERVANT, 
 AND OLD SCHOOL. FELLOW, 
 
 GEORGE CQLMAN, 
 VOL. L I
 
 PERSONS. 
 
 PROLOGUE, 
 
 LACHES, 
 
 PH^EDRIA, 
 
 CHOREA, 
 
 A N T I P H O, 
 
 CHREMES, 
 
 THRASO, 
 
 GNAT HO, 
 
 PARMENO, 
 
 D O R U S, 
 
 SANG A, 
 
 S I M A L I O, and other Mutes. 
 
 THAIS, 
 
 PYTHIAS, 
 
 D O R Y A S, 
 
 SOPHRONA, 
 
 P A M P H I L A, and other Mutes. 
 
 SCENE, ATHENS, 

 
 THE 
 
 EUNUCH;* 
 
 Adled at the MEGALESIAN GAMES, 
 
 L. Poflumius Albinns and L. Cornelius Merula, 
 Curule JEdiles : Principal Actors, L. Ambivius 
 Turpio and L. Attilius Prseneftinus : The Mufick, 
 compofed for Two Right-handed Flutes, by Flaccus, 
 Freedman to Claudius : It is from the Greek of 
 Menander. It was acted twice -f, M. Valerius, t 
 and C. Fannius, Confuls ||. 
 
 * The Eunuch.] This feems 
 to have been the moft popular 
 of all the Comedies of Terence. 
 Suetonius and Donatus, both 
 inform us that it was afted 
 with the greateft applaufe, and 
 that the Poet received a larger 
 Price for it from the Mtiiles, 
 than had ever been paid for any 
 before, viz. 8000 fefterces, 
 which is about equal to 200 
 crowns, which in thofe times 
 was a confiderable fum. 
 
 f Aaed twice.] A3a n. Do- 
 natus informs us it was acled a 
 
 third time. It is certain there- 
 fore that there is fomething 
 wanting- in this title, and that 
 we mould read atla n. DIE, 
 aled twice IN ONE DAY, of 
 which fa<ft we are made ac- 
 quainted by Suetonius. DAC. 
 
 J Valerius, and Fannius, Con- 
 fuls.] That is in the year of 
 Rome 592, and 160 before 
 Chrift. 
 
 || Baif, a Poet, who lived un- 
 der Charles IX. made a tninf- 
 lation of the Eunuch into French 
 Verfe, which if I am not dj- 
 I 2 ceivsd,
 
 ceived, was never publickly re- 
 prefented, as there was not at 
 that time a company of Co- 
 medians regularly eftablifhed at 
 Paris. I have not heard that 
 before, or fmce his time, we 
 have any other poetical tranf- 
 lations of ^Terence ; and my 
 Andrianis, I believe, the firft 
 of his Comedies, that has ap- 
 peared on our ftage. BARON. 
 
 Baron is partly miftaken. 
 There is extant in the works of 
 the celebrated Fontaine a Co- 
 medy entitled L'Eunuque, be- 
 ing, like Baron's Andrian, 
 founded on Terence, with fuch 
 alterations, as the modern Poet 
 thought advifeable in his age 
 and country. Some of the prin- 
 cipal variations will be obferv- 
 ed in the courfe of thefe notes. 
 
 PROLOGUE.
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 TO pleafe the candid, give offence to none, 
 This, lays the Poet, ever was his paje : 
 * Yet if there's One, who thinks he's hardly^nfur'd, 
 Let him remember He was the Aggrefibr : 
 //if, who tranflating many, but not well, 
 On good Greek fables fram'd poor Latin plays j 
 He, who but lately to the Publick gave 
 -[-The Phantom of Menanderj He, who made, 
 J In the Thefaurus, the Defendant plead 
 
 * Ytt if there's one, &c.] 
 Meaning Lavinius, the Poet 
 cenfured in the Prologue to the 
 Andrian. DONATUS. 
 
 f The Phantom cf MenanJer. ] 
 The Phantom [s^c^a] was the 
 title of a Comedy of Menander; 
 in which a young Man looking 
 thro* a hole in the wall, which 
 divides his father's houfe from 
 a neighbour's, beholds a virgin 
 of extraordinary beauty, and is 
 affefted with an aweful reve- 
 rence, as at the fight of a Di- 
 vinity ; from which the P!ay 
 is called the Phantom. The Mo- 
 ther (who had thrs child by a 
 fecret amour before her marri- 
 age with the young man's fa- 
 tjier, and educated her private- 
 ly- in the houfe of her next 
 door neighbour) is reprefented 
 10 have made the hole in the 
 .<%.!, ami to have decked ihe 
 
 paflage with garlands, and green, 
 branches, that it might look 
 like a confecrated place; whi- 
 ther (he daily went to her devo- 
 tions, and ufed to call forth her 
 daughter to converfe with her 
 there. The Youth, coming by 
 degrees to the knowledge of 
 her being but a mortal, his paf- 
 fion for her becomes fo violent, 
 as to admit of no cure but mar- 
 riage ; which at laft is accom- 
 plifhed to the great fatisfadion 
 of the Mother and Daughter, 
 the joy of the Lover, and the 
 confent of his Father. This 
 argumentof the PhafmaBentley 
 gives us ; but to whom we are 
 obliged for it fays he does not 
 know, whether to Donatus or 
 fome older Icholiaft. COOKE. 
 
 I In the T/-faurus.] In the 
 Thefaurus, or Treafure, ofl-a- 
 viuiu:,, a youug fellow having
 
 no PROLOGUE. 
 
 And vouch the qucflion'd treafure to be his, 
 Before the Plaintiff his own title fhews, 
 Or whence it came into his father's tomb. 
 
 Henceforward, let him not deceive himfelf, 
 Or cry, " I'm fafe, he can fay nought of me.'* 
 I charge.htm that he err not, and forbear 
 To urge me farther ; for I've more, much more, 
 Which now mail be o'erlook'd-, but mall be known, 
 If he perfue his (landers, as before. 
 
 Soon as this Play, the Eunuch of Menander a 
 Which we are now preparing to perform, 
 Was purchas'd by the ./Ediles, he obtained 
 
 fquandered his eftate, fends a which Terence ridicules, b- 
 fervaut ten years after his fa- caufe the young man who was 
 ther's death, according to the the Plaintiff, (hould fiift Ihew 
 will of the deceafed, to carry his own title to it. Thus far 
 provifions to his father's mo- Bentley from the fame fcholiaft. 
 miment ; but he had before This note is a clear explanation 
 fold the ground, in which the of the paffage to which it be- 
 monument Hood, to a covetous longs. Hare concurs with Ma- 
 old man ; to whom the fervant dam Dacier in her opinion, that 
 applied to help him to open the this ftory of the Treafure was 
 monument ; in which they dif- only an incident foifled by La- 
 covered a hoard of gold and a vinius into the Phantom of Me- 
 ktter. The old fellow feizes nander, and not a diftinft play : 
 the Treafure, and keeps it, un- but was I not determined by 
 der pretence of having depofited the more learned Bentley, the 
 it there, for fafety, during Text itfelf would not permit me 
 times of war : the young fel- to concur in their opinion, as 
 low goes to, law with him ; and the words atque in Tbefauro 
 the old man is reprefented as fcripjit, feem plainly to 'be a 
 opening the caufe thus:" Athe- transition to another play. 
 ' " nians, why (hould I relate the COOKE. 
 V \vaj\vhh iji'e Khadians? &c." . 
 
 Menandcr,
 
 PROLOGUE. in 
 
 * Leave to examine it : and afterwards 
 fWhen 'twas rehears'd before the Magiftrates, 
 " A Thief, he cried, no Poet gives this pieces 
 " Yet has he not deceiv'd us ; for we know, 
 " JThe Colax is an antient Comedy 
 " Of Nsevius, and of Plautus ; and from thence 
 " The Parafite and Soldier both are ftolen." 
 
 If that's the Poet's crime, it is a crime 
 Of ignorance, and not a ftudied theft. 
 Judge for yourfelves ! the fad is even thus. 
 The Colax is a fable of Menander ; 
 Wherein is drawn the character of Colax 
 The Parafite, and the Vain-Glorious Soldier : 
 Which characters, he fcruples not to own, 
 He to his Eunuch from the Greek transferrM : 
 
 Menander, and his Cotem- jeclions againft the piece, which 
 
 porary Philemon, each of them he threw out when it came to 
 
 wrote a Comedy under this title, be reprefented before the Magi- 
 
 We have in the above note the ftrates. 
 
 ftory of Menander's ; and we f wben ,^ aj ^^j ^ 
 
 know that of Philemon's from fore tbe Magifirate^ This is 
 
 the Trinummus of Plautus, 3 remarkable ff for it ^ 
 
 which was a tranflation of it. forms us that whe * the Magi- 
 
 * Leave to exeunine it.] Per- ftrates had bought a piece, they 
 
 fecit y fibi ut infpiciundi eflet bad it reprefented at their own 
 
 fcpia. The word infpiciundi cer- houfe, before it was played in 
 
 tainly carries a ftronger fenfe publick. DACIER. 
 than merely to be prefent at + en. r> f 
 the reprefentation. The mean- * 
 
 ing of the whole paffage I take ^# 
 
 to be this. Thatha^ngob- 
 tained leave to perufe thf MS. 
 ob. 
 
 I 4 But
 
 U2 P R O L O G U E. 
 
 *But that he knew, thofe pieces were before 
 Made Latin, That he ftedfaftly denies, f 
 
 But that he Anew, &c.] If 
 Plautus wrote a play under the 
 title of Colax, I fhould think 
 it very unlikely for Terence 
 not to have feen it, cqnfider- 
 ing how foon he flourifhed after 
 Plautus, his being engaged in 
 the fame ftudies, and his hav- 
 ing fuch accefs to the libraries 
 of the Great. Among the frag- 
 ments of Plautus is one verfe 
 faid to be a line of the Colax : 
 yet I am inclined to believePIau- 
 tus never tranflated Menander's 
 Colax. The Character of the 
 Vain- G loriousSoldier here men- 
 tioned I am apt to think the 
 fame with that which is the 
 Hero of Plautus's Comedy now 
 extant, and called Miles Glori- 
 cjbs ; from which Terence could 
 not take his Thrafb. Pyrgo- 
 polinices and Thrafo are both 
 full of themfelves, both boaft 
 of their valour, and their inti- 
 macy with princes, and both 
 fancy themfelves beloved by all 
 the women, who fee them; and 
 they are both played off by their 
 Parafites ; but they differ in 
 their manners and their fpeech. 
 Plautus's Pyrgopolinices is al- 
 ways in the clouds, and talk- 
 ing big, and of blood and 
 wounds, like our heroes com- 
 monly called Derby Captains. 
 Terence's Thrafo never fays too 
 
 little, nor too much, but is an 
 eafy ridiculous character, con- 
 tinually fupplying the audience 
 with mirth, without the wild, 
 extravagant bl lifter of Pyrgo- 
 polinices. Plautus and Terence 
 both took their Soldiers and 
 Parafites from Menander, bqt 
 gave them different drefles. 
 COOKE. 
 
 Though there is much good 
 criticifm in the above note, it 
 is certain that Plautus did not 
 take his Miles Gloriofus from 
 the Colax of Menander, as he 
 himfelf informs qs it was tranf- 
 lated from a Greek Play called 
 Abated the Boafter, and the 
 Parafite is but a trifling charac- 
 ter in that play, never appear- 
 ing after the fitft fcene. 
 
 f That be Jledfaftly denies.'} 
 It feems almoft incredible, that 
 Terence mould be ignorant of 
 thefe two plays, written by Nae- 
 vius and Plautus ; but our won- 
 der will abate, when we refleft 
 that all the learning of that time 
 was confined to manufcripts, 
 which being few and not com- 
 mon, could not be in the hands 
 of many. Befides, as it was 
 not then fo general a cuftom to 
 col left in one volume all the 
 works of the fame poet, one 
 might fee fome of his pieces, 
 Without feeing the whole. PAT. 
 Yet
 
 PROLOGUE. 113 
 
 Yet if to other Poets 'tis not lawful 
 To draw the characters our fathers drew, 
 How can it then be lawful to exhibit 
 Slaves running to and fro , to reprefent 
 Good matrons, wanton harlots , or to fliew 
 An eating parafite, vain-glorious foldier, 
 Suppofititious children, bubbled dotards, 
 Or Love, or Hate, or Jealoufy ? In fliort 
 Nothing's faid now, but has been laid before. 
 Weigh then thefe things with candour, and forgive 
 The Moderns, if what Antients did, they do. 
 
 Attend, and lift in filence to our play, 
 That ye may know what 'tis the Eunuch means. 
 
 THE

 
 THE 
 
 E U N U C H. 
 
 A C T I. S C E N*E I. 
 
 PH^DRIA, PARMENO. 
 
 \ 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
 N D what then mall I do? not go ? noc 
 
 now ? 
 
 When me herfelf invites me ? or were't belt 
 Fafhion my mind no longer -to endure 
 Thefe harlots' impudence ? Shut out ! recall'd ! 
 Shall I return ? No, not if me implore me. 
 
 Par. Oh brave! oh excellent! if you maintain it! 
 But if you try, and can't go thro' with fpirit, 
 And rinding you can't bear it, uninvited, 
 Your peace unmade, all of your own accord, 
 You come and fwear you love, and can't endure it, 
 Good night ! all's over ! ruin'd and undone ! 
 
 * And whet (hex, &c.] Phnsdria enters, as having deliberated a 
 long time within himfelf, at lafl breaking out into thefe words. DON. 
 
 Horace and Perfius have both imitated this beautiful paffage 
 in their faures, 
 
 She'll
 
 n6 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 She'll jilt you, when (he fees you in her pow'r. 
 
 Ph*d. You then, in time confider and advife ! 
 
 Par. Mafter! the thing which hath not in itfelf 
 Or meafure or advice, advice can*t rule. 
 In love are all thefe ills : fufpicions, quarrels, 
 Wrongs, reconcilements, war, and peace again : 
 Things thus uncertain, if by reafon's rules 
 You'd certain make, it were as wife a talk 
 
 * To try with reafon to run mad. And now 
 What you in anger meditate I her? T 
 
 That him? that me? that would not pardon me! 
 I would die rather : No ! me (hall perceive 
 How much I am a man. Big words like thefe, 
 She in good faith with one falfe tiny drop, 
 Which, after grievous rubbing, from her eyes 
 
 * TQ try *with reafon to run mad.'} Theobald is of opinion, that 
 the following pafiage of Shakefpeare is partly imitated from 
 this of our Author. 
 
 _. To be wife and love 
 
 Exceeds man's might, and dwells with Gods above. 
 
 Troilut and CreJJida. 
 
 If it be really an imitation, Shakefpeare in this inftance, con- 
 trary to cuftom, falls infinitely below his original. 
 
 f 1 kerf that bim?--tbat indignation loves to deal in the 
 
 me ? - that would net ") An Ellipfis and Apofiopefis. DON. 
 
 abrupt manner of (peaking fa- As the Pronoans in our lan- 
 
 mijiar to perfons in anger, for guage admit a variation of Cafe, 
 
 thp ienfences are ro be under- \ law no reafon why I fbouUl 
 
 flood thus. ] gn to her ? that not literally copy the beautiful 
 
 rwrti>Vhim? rharrrf/vi'A/me? egone ilt<*>n ? &c. of Terence. 
 
 - taut would not // me in ; tor 
 
 Can
 
 T H E E U N U C H. 117 
 
 Can Icarce perforce be fqueez'd, (hall overcome. 
 Nay, fhe fhall fwear, 'twas you in fault, not fhe ; 
 You too fhall own th* offence, and pray for pardon. 
 
 Ph<ed. Oh monftrous ! monftrous ! now indeed I fee 
 How falfe fhe is, and what a wretch I am ! 
 Spite of myfelf I love , and knowing, feeling, 
 With open eyes run on to my deftrudion ; 
 And what to do I know not. 
 
 Par. What to do ? 
 
 What jhould you do, Sir, but redeem yourfelf 
 As cheaply as you can ? at eafy rates 
 If pofTible if not at any rate 
 And never vex yourfelf. 
 
 Pbxd. Is that your counfel ? 
 
 Par. Ay, if you're wife-, and do not add to love 
 More troubles than it has, and thofe it has 
 Bear bravely ! * But fhe comes, our ruin comes -, 
 
 * But Jhe tomety our ruin patifon between them, tlic 
 
 comes ; For fit, fcfr.] There is learned reader will agree widi 
 
 an extreme elegance in this paf- me, that the paflage in the En- 
 
 fage in the original. There is glilh poet is not only equal, 
 
 much the fame fentiment in the but even fuperior in beauty to 
 
 Cymbeline of Shakefpeare : and that in Terence. 
 I believe, upon a fair com- 
 
 Sed ecca ipfa egreditur, noftri fundi calamitas : 
 
 Nam quod nos capere oportet, haec intercipit. TER. 
 
 comes in my father ; 
 
 And, like the tyrannous breathing of the North, 
 Shakes all our buds from blowing. 
 
 CYM8EtXN, Aft, I. 
 
 For
 
 n8 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 For {he, like ftorms of hail on fields of corn, 
 Boats down our hopes, and carries all before her. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Enter THAIS. 
 
 ttais. Ah me ! I fear left Phaedria take offence, 
 And think I meant it other than I did, 
 That he was not admitted yefterday. 
 
 [to h erf elf not feeing them. 
 
 Phted. I tremble, Parmeno, and freeze with horror. 
 Par. Be of good cheer ! approach yon fire fhe'll 
 
 warm you. 
 Vbais. Who's there ? my Phasdria ? Why did you 
 
 ftand here ? 
 Why not directly enter ? 
 
 Par. Not one word 
 Of having fhut him out ! 
 
 ttais. Why don't you fpeak ? 
 Ph<ed. Becaufe, forfooth, thefe doors will always fly 
 Open to me, or that becaufe I ftand 
 The firft in your good graces. [ironically. 
 
 'Thais. Nay, no more ! 
 Pb*d. No more ? O Thais, Thais, would to 
 
 heaven 
 
 Our loves were parallel, that things like thefe 
 Might torture you, as this has tortur'd me j 
 
 Or
 
 T H E E U N U C H. u 9 
 
 Or that your aftions were indifferent to me ! 
 
 Thais. Grieve not, I beg, my love, my Phjedria! 
 Not that I lov'd another more, I did this. 
 But I by circumftance was forc'd to do it. 
 
 Par. So then, it feems, for very love, poor foul, 
 You (hut the door in's teeth. 
 
 Thais. Ah, Parmeno ! 
 
 Is't thus you deal with me ? Go to ! But hear 
 Why I did call you hither. 
 
 Pb*d. Be it Jo. 
 
 Thais. But tell me firft, can yon flave hold hb 
 peace ? 
 
 Par. I ? oh mod faithfully: But hark ye, madam! 
 On this condition do I bind my faith : 
 The truths I hear, I will conceal; but falfehocd, 
 Fiction, or grofs pretence, mail out at once. 
 I'm full of chinks, and run through here and there: 
 So if you claim my fecrefy, fpeak truth. 
 
 Thais. My mother was a Samian, liv'd at Rhodes.* 
 
 Par. This fleeps in filence. [archly. 
 
 Thais. There a certain merchant 
 Made her a prefent of a little girl, 
 Stol'n hence from Attica. 
 
 * My mother <was a Samian, in another. For this reafon 
 
 liv'd at Rhodes.] An indirect courtezans were called grangers; 
 
 and tender manner of acknow- and on this circumftance de- 
 
 ledging her mother to be a pends the archnefs and malice 
 
 courtezan, by faying me was a of Parmeno's anfwer. DONAT. 
 native of one place, and lived 
 
 I Pbtd.
 
 120 T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 Pb*d. A citizen? 
 
 Thais. I think fo, but we cannot tell for certain s 
 Her father's and her mother's name (he told 
 Herfelf ; her country, and the other marks 
 Of her original, (he neither knew, 
 Nor from her age, was't poflible me mould. 
 The merchant added further, that the pirates, 
 Of whom he bought her, let him underftand, 
 She had been ftol'n from Sunium.* My mother 
 Gave her an education, brought her up 
 In all refpects as me had been her own $ 
 And me in gen'ral was fuppos'd my fitter. 
 I journied hither with the gentleman 
 To whom alone I was connected then, 
 The fame who left me all I have. 
 
 Par. Thefe articles 
 Are both rank falfehoods, and mail out. 
 
 Thais. Why fo ? 
 
 Par. Becaufe nor you with one could be content, 
 Nor he alone enrich'd you , for my mailer 
 Made good and large addition. 
 
 Tbais. I allow it. 
 
 But let me haften to the point I wifh. 
 Meantime the Captain, who was then but young 
 In his attachment to me, went to Caria. f 
 
 * Sunium. ] A part of Attica upon the fea coaft. 
 
 f Caria.'] A region of Afia Minor upon the fea coaft, oppofite 
 to Rhodes. 
 
 I,
 
 THE EUNUCH. i?i 
 
 *I, in his abfence, was addreft by You ; 
 Since when, full well you know, how very dear 
 I've held you, and have trufted you with all 
 My neareft counfels. 
 
 Pb*d. And yet Parmeno 
 Will not be filent even here. 
 
 Par. Oh, Sir, 
 Is that a doubt ? 
 
 Thais. Nay, pritnee now, attend ! 
 My mother's lately dead at Rhodes : her brother 
 Too much intent on wealth, no fooner faw 
 This virgin, handfome, \vell-accomplifht, fkilFd 
 In mufick, than, fpurr'd on by hopes of gain, 
 In publick market he expos'd and fold her. 
 It fo fell out, my foldier-fpark was there, 
 And bought her, all unknowing thefe events ; 
 To give to me : but foon as he returned, 
 And found how much I was attach'd to You, 
 He feign'd excufes to keep back the girl ; 
 Pretending, were he thoroughly convinc'd 
 That I would ftill prefer him to yourfelf, 
 Nor fear'd that when I had receiv'd the girl, 
 I would abandon him, he'd give her to me j 
 But that he doubted. For my part, I think 
 He is grown fond of her himfelf. 
 
 * I in his al>/fnct, sV.] It is which Thais may plead for this 
 artful of the Poet to reprefent indulgence from Phadria with 
 the captain as the prior lover, by a better grace. DONATUS. 
 
 Voi.. I. K
 
 i:>2 T H E E U N U C H, 
 
 Is there 
 Aught more between them ? 
 
 Thais. No'; for I've enquir'd. 
 And now, my Phasdria, there are fundry caufes 
 Wherefore I wifh to win the virgin from him. 
 Firlt, for me's call'd my lifter : and moreover, 
 That I to her relations may reftore her. 
 I'm a lone woman, have nor friend, nor kin : 
 Wherefore, my Phasdria, I would raife up friends 
 By fome good turn: And you, I prithee now, 
 Help me to do it ! Let him fome few days 
 Be my gallant in chief. What ! no reply ? 
 
 Phxd. Abandon'd woman ! can I aught reply 
 To deeds like thefe ? 
 
 Par. Oh excellent ! well faid ! 
 He feels at length: Now, matter, you're a man. 
 
 Ph<cd. I faw your (lory's drift. " A little girl 
 " Stol'n hence My mother brought her up wa* 
 
 call'd 
 
 " My lifter I would fain obtain her from him, 
 " That I to her relations might reftore her-" 
 All this preamble comes at laft to this. 
 I am excluded, he's admitted. Why ? 
 But that you love him more than me, and fear 
 Left this young captive win your hero from you, 
 
 fkais. Do I fear that ? 
 
 Pb<cd. Why, prithee now, what elfe ? 
 
 Does
 
 THE EUNUCH. 123 
 
 Does He bring gifts alone ? did'ft e'er perceive 
 My bounty fhut againil you ? Did I not, 
 Becaufe you told me you'd be glad to have 
 An ./Ethiopian fervant-maid, all elfe 
 Omitted, feek one out ? You faid befides, 
 You wifh'd to have an Eunuch, 'caufe fbrfooth, 
 They were for dames of quality. I found one. 
 For both I yefterday paid twenty win*.* 
 Yet you contemn me I forgot not thefe, 
 And for thefe I'm defpis'd. 
 
 Thais. Why this, my Phasdria ? 
 Tho' I would fain obtain the girl, and tho' 
 I think by thefe means it might well be done j 
 Yet, rather than make you my enemy, 
 I'll do as you command. 
 
 Pb<ed. Oh, had you faid 
 
 Thofe words fmcerely " Rather than make you 
 " My enemy!" Oh, could I think thofe words 
 Came from your heart, what is't I'd not endure ! 
 
 Par. Gone ! conquer'd with one word ! alas, how foon 
 
 Thais. Not ipeak fmcerely? from my very foul ? 
 What did you ever afk, altho' in fport, 
 But you obtaia'd it of me ? yet I can't 
 Prevail on you to grant but two Ihort days. 
 
 Pbad. Well for two days -fo tho/e two be net 
 twenty. 
 
 * Twenty Mina.] Equal to 64/. lit. 8 d. of our money. COOK E. 
 
 K 2 Thais,
 
 124 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 Thais. No in good faith but two, or 
 
 Ph<td. Or ? no more. 
 
 'Thais. It fhall not be : but you will grant me thofe. 
 
 Ph<ed. Your will muft be a law. 
 
 'Thais. Thanks, my fweet Phaedria ! 
 
 Pb<ed. I'll to the country : there confume myfelf 
 For thefe two days : it muft be fo : we muft 
 Give way to Thais See you, Parmeno, 
 The flaves brought hither. 
 
 Par. 'Sir, I will. 
 
 Pb*d. My Thais, 
 For thefe two days, farewell ! 
 
 Thais. Farewell, my Fhasdria ! 
 Would you aught elfe with me ? 
 
 Ph<cd. Aught elfe, my Thais ? 
 * Be with yon foldier prcfent, as if abfent : 
 
 * Be with yon fattier, {5V.] prefies her intention to have 
 
 Phaedria's requeft tohis miftrefs, laid much the fame kind of 
 
 upon leaving her for two days, is things on parting with Pofthu- 
 
 inimitably beautiful and natural, mus. As both the pafiages 
 
 ADDISON'S Speflatcr N 170. arc extremely beautiful, it may 
 
 Imogen in the fpeech above not be difagreeable to the reader 
 
 cited from Shakefpeare, ex- to compare them together. 
 
 I did not take my leave of him, but had 
 Mofl pretty things to fay : ere 1 could tell him, 
 How J would think on him, at certain hours, 
 Such thoughts, and fuch ; or, I could make him fwear, 
 The fhees of Italy fliould not betray 
 Mine int'reft, and his honour ; or have charg'd him 
 At the fixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, 
 To encounter me with orifon? ; for then 
 I *m in Leaven with him, &c. 
 
 All
 
 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 125 
 
 All night and day love Me : llill long for Me : 
 Dream, ponder ftill of Me ; wilh, hope for Me j 
 Delight in Me ; be ail in all with Me : 
 Give your whole heart, for mine's all your's, to Me. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 Manet THAIS.* 
 
 Ah me ! I fear that he believes me not, 
 
 And judges of my heart from thofe of others, f 
 
 I in my confcience know, that nothing falfe 
 
 I have deliver'd, nor to my true heart 
 
 Is any dearer than this Phcedria : 
 
 And whatfoe'er in this affair I've done, 
 
 * Manet Thais.] The Poet 
 very judicioufly referves part 
 of the argument to be told 
 here, which Thais did not re- 
 late to Phxdria, in the prefence 
 of Parmeno : whom the poet 
 keeps in ignorance, that he may 
 with probability dare to affiit 
 Chsrea in his attempt on the 
 virgin. DONATUS. 
 
 f And judges of my heart from 
 tbofe of ut /;<.r s.~\ Here Terence 
 Ihews it to be his peculiar ex- 
 cellence to introduce common 
 characters in a new manner, 
 without departing fz^r.: cu.leni, 
 
 or nature : Since he draws a 
 good courtezan, and yet engages 
 and delights the fpeclator. 
 DONATUS. 
 
 Under the name of Thais, 
 Menander is fuppofed to have 
 drawn the character of his own 
 niiftrefsjGlycere ; and, it feems, 
 he introduced a courtezan of 
 the fame name into feveral of 
 his comedies. One comedy 
 was entitled Thais, from which 
 St. Paul took the fentence in 
 his EpilHe to the Corinthians, 
 " Evilcommunications corrupt 
 " good manners/' Plutarch 
 has dlb preferred four lines of 
 K 3 the
 
 126 
 
 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 For the girl's fake I've clone : for I'm in hopes 
 I know her brother, a right noble youth. 
 To day I wait him, by his own appointment i 
 V/hereforc I'll ip, and tarry for his coming. 
 
 the prologue to that comedy, the rnufe, to teach him to 
 in which the poet, in a kind of draw the character of his he- 
 inock-heroick manner invokes roine. 
 
 cfiroxKeMsctv, 
 
 P L t' T . de Andiend. Poet* 
 
 Such therefore (ing, O Goddefs ! bold, but fair, 
 And blcft with all the arts .of fond perfuafion ; 
 Injurious, quarrellous, for ever craving, 
 Caring for none, but feigning love to all. 
 
 The word a.Tr'o^si^cfxv alludes 
 particularly to the fhutting out 
 her lovers, the very injury of- 
 fcred to Phaedria in this play. 
 
 Fontaine, probably for the 
 
 fame reafons that induced Ba- 
 ron to vary from his original, 
 reprelents Thais as a young \vi 
 dow, inftead of a courtezan, 
 
 ACT
 
 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 i : 
 
 ACT II. SCENE I. 
 
 PH^SDRIA, PAR MEN O. 
 
 Phxdria. f~^ ARRY the flaves according to my 
 V_>< order *, 
 
 Par. I will. 
 
 Pboed. But diligently. 
 
 Par. Sir, I will. 
 
 Ph<ed. But foon. 
 
 Par. I will, Sir ! 
 
 Pbrtd. Say, is it fufficient ? 
 
 Par. Ah! what a queftion's that? as if it were 
 So difficult! I wim, Sir Phasdria, 
 You could gain aught fo eafy, as lofe thefe. 
 
 Pb#d. I lofe, what's dearer yet, my comfort with 
 
 them. 
 Repine not at my gifts. 
 
 Par. Not I : moreover 
 
 * Carry thejlaves, &c.~\ This and over again, and in a tire- 
 Scene contains a deal of lover's fome manner. DONATUS. 
 impertinence and idle talk, re- tf theCritick meant this note 
 peating what has been faid be- for a cenfure, it is in fadl rather 
 fore ; and that too much over a commendation. 
 
 K 4 I will
 
 iz8 T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 I will convey them ftraight. But have you any 
 Other commands ? 
 
 Ph*d. Oh yes : Set off our prefents 
 With words as handfome as you can -, and drive, 
 As much as poffible, that rival from her ! 
 
 Par. Ah, Sir ! I Ihould, of courfe, remember that. 
 
 Pktfd. I'll to the country, and flay there. 
 
 Par. O, ay ! \ironically. 
 
 Pb<ed. But hark you ! 
 
 Par. Sir, your pleafure ? 
 
 Ph<ed. Do you think 
 I can with conftancy hold out, and not 
 Return before my time ? 
 
 Par. Hold out ? Not you. 
 Either you'll ftraight return, or want of fleep* 
 Will drive you forth at midnight. 
 
 Pb*d. I will toil ; 
 That, weary, I may fleep againft my will. 
 
 Par. Weary you may be i but you'll never fleep. 
 
 Phted. Ah, Parmeno, you wrong me. I'll caft out 
 This treacherous foftnefs from my foul, nor thus 
 Indulge my paffions. Yes, I could remain, 
 If need, without her even three whole days. 
 
 * Want nfjhtp, l?V.] Aut max the word infomnia in this place 
 no3u fe aciigft horjum infcmnia. to fignify watching, nuant of 
 The common reading is adigent. fl'ty* is confirmed by the two 
 But the corre&ion and interpre- next fpeeches. 
 tation of Donatus, who explains 
 
 Par.
 
 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 129 
 
 Par. *Hui! three whole livelong days ! confider, Sir, 
 Ph<ed. I am refolved. 
 
 * Hut! three 'whole days f] 
 Hui .' v N I vo R s u M triduum ! 
 Crites. To read Macrobius, ex- 
 plaining the propriety and ele- 
 gance of many words in Virgil, 
 which I had before pafied over 
 without confideration, as com- 
 mon things, is enough to aflure 
 me that I ought to think the 
 fame of Terence; and that in 
 the purity of his flile, (which 
 Tully fo much valued, that he 
 ever carried his works about 
 him) there is yet left in him 
 great room for admiration, if I 
 knew but where to place it. 
 
 Eugenics. I fhould have been 
 led to a confideration of the 
 wit of the ancients, had not 
 Crites given me fufficient warn- 
 ing not to be too bold in my 
 judgment of it; becaufe the 
 languages being dead, and many 
 of the cuftoms, and little acci- 
 dents, on which it depended, 
 loll to us, we are not compe- 
 tent judges of it. But though 
 I grant, that here and there we 
 may mifs the application of a 
 proverb or a cu Horn, yet a thing 
 well faid will be wil in all lan- 
 
 guages ; and though it may lofc 
 fomething in the tranflation, yet 
 to him who reads it in the ori- 
 ginal, it is ftill the fame. He 
 has an idea of its excellence, 
 though it cannot pafs from his 
 mind into any other expreffion 
 or words than thofe in which 
 he finds it. When Phaedria in 
 the Eunuch had a command 
 from his miftrefs to be abfent 
 two days, and encouraging him- 
 felf to go through with it, faid, 
 Tandem ego non ilia, caream, fe 
 opus Jit, *vel totum triduum? 
 Parmeno, to mock the foftnefs 
 of his matter, lifting up his 
 hands and eyes, cries out, as it 
 were in admiration, Hui ! uni- 
 vorfum triduum ! the elegancy 
 of which univorfum, though /'/ 
 cannct be rendered in our language, 
 yet leaves an impreffion on our 
 fouls. But this happens feldom 
 in him, in P.autus oftener; who 
 is infinitely too bold in hi? me- 
 taphors and coining words; out 
 of which many times his wit is 
 nothing. 
 
 D R Y D E N '/ Ejfcy of Dramatick 
 Potfit. 
 
 SCENE
 
 THE EUNUC H, 
 
 SCENE IJ, 
 PAR ME NO clone. 
 
 *Heav'ns, what a ftrange difeafe is this! That lovg 
 
 Should fo change men, that one can hardly fwear 
 
 They are the fame! No mortal liv'd 
 
 Lefs weak, more grave, more temperate than he, 
 
 But who comes yonder ? Gnatho, as I live i 
 
 The Captain's parafite ! and brings along 
 
 The Virgin for a prefent : oh rare wench ! 
 
 f How beautiful ! I mall come off, I doubt, 
 
 But fcurvily with my decrepid Eunuch. 
 
 This girl furpaffes ev'n Thais herfelf. 
 
 * Heav'nt, *wbat a firange t 
 *3c ,] Part of Benedift's fchlo- 
 quy in the fecond a& of Much 
 ado about Nothing is much in 
 the fame vein with this of Par- 
 meno ; only that it is heighten- 
 ed by the circumftance of its be- 
 ing immediately previous to his 
 falling in love himfelf. 
 
 f How tecutifal, C5V.] The 
 Poet makes Parmeno take no- 
 tice of her extraordinary beau- 
 ty, in order to make the vio- 
 lence of Chorea's paffion for her 
 the more probable. D 
 
 SCENE
 
 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 131 
 
 S C E N E III. 
 
 GNATHO, hading PAMPHILAj 
 PAR ME NO behind. 
 
 *-Gxatb. Good hcav'ns! how much one man excels 
 
 another ! 
 
 What difference 'twixt a wife man and a fool ! 
 What juit now happen'd proves it : Coming hither 
 
 * Enter Gnatho,} Thefecha- 
 rafters, the Parafue and the Sol- 
 dier, as the Poet himfelf con- 
 fefies, are not in the Eunuch 
 of Menander, but taken from 
 the Colax. DON AT us. 
 
 Two a&ions, equally labour- 
 ed and driven on by the writer, 
 would deftroy the unity of the 
 poem; it would be no longer 
 one play, but two: Not but 
 that there may be many actions 
 in a plav, as Ben Jonfon has ob- 
 ferved in his Difcoveries, but 
 they muft be all fabfervient to 
 the great one, which our lan- 
 guage happily exprefles in the 
 name of under plots : Such as 
 in Terence's Eunuch is the dif- 
 ference and reconcilement of 
 Thais and Phaedria, which is not 
 the chief bufmefs of the play, 
 but promotes the marriage of 
 Cha;:ca and Chremes's filler, 
 ally intended by the poet. 
 There ought to be but one ac- 
 tion, lays Corneille, that is, 
 one complete aciion, which 
 
 leaves the mind of the audience 
 in a full repofe ; bat this can- 
 not be brought to.pafs, but by 
 many other imperfeft adlions 
 which conduce to it, and held 
 the audience in a delightful fuf- 
 pence of what will be. 
 Dryderi 'sEJ/ay cfDramatickPoefie. 
 Inftead of the quarrels of 
 Thais and Phaedria, which were 
 moft probably in the Eunuch of 
 Menander, it would have been 
 better to have inftanced the 
 characters taken from the Co- 
 lax; which Terence has very 
 artfully connected with the reft 
 of the fable, by reprefenting the 
 Girl, loved byChserea, as given 
 to Thais byThrafo ; which pro- 
 duces the' abfence of Phasdria, 
 lea es room for the comical im- 
 pofture of Chasrea, and, al- 
 though adfcititious, becomes the 
 main fpringof the whole aftion. 
 f Good heav'ns ! t3c.~\ This 
 is the onty fcene in Terence, 
 which I remember, that can be 
 charged with being fuperfluous. 
 t Thrafo
 
 132 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 I met with an old countryman-, a man 
 
 Of my own place and order ; like myfelf, 
 
 No fcurvy fellow ; who, like me, had fpent 
 
 In mirth and jollity his whole eilate. 
 
 Seeing him in a wretched trim j his looks 
 
 Lean, fick, and dirty, and his cloaths, all rags-, 
 
 " How nov/ !" cry'd I, " what means this figure, friend ?" 
 
 " Alas," lays he, " my patrimony's gone. 
 
 " Ah, how am I reduc'd ! my old acquaintance 
 
 " And friends all fhun me." Hearing this, how cheap 
 
 I held him in comparifon with Me ! 
 
 " Why, how now ? wretch, faid I, moil idle wretch ' 
 
 " Have you fpent all, nor left ev'n hope behind ? 
 
 " What! have you loft your lenfe with your eftate ? 
 
 " Me! look on Me come from the fame condition! 
 
 *' How fleck ! how neat ! how clad ! in what good cafe ? 
 
 " I've ev'ry thing, though nothing j nought poffefs, 
 
 " Yet nought I ever want." " Ah, Sir ! but I 
 
 " Have an unhappy temper, and can't bear 
 
 " To be the butt of others, or to take 
 
 " A bearing now and then." " How then ! d'ye think 
 
 *' Thofe are the means of thriving ? No, my friend ! 
 
 Thrafo has made a prefent to time for it ? Let Gnatho pay 
 
 Thais of a young girl. Gna- due attentionon the Itage to the 
 
 tho is to carry her. Going a. young woman whom he is 
 
 long with her, he amufes him- charged with, and let him fay 
 
 felf with giving the fpe&ator a what he will to himfelf, I con- 
 
 moft agreeable eulogium on his fent to it. DIDER.OJ . 
 profc&on. But vra* that the 
 
 " Such
 
 THE E U N U C II. 
 
 '33 
 
 " Such formerly indeed might drive a trade : 
 
 " *But mine's a new profeilion-, I the firfl 
 
 " That ever ftruck into this road. There are 
 
 " A kind of men, who wilh to be the head 
 
 " Of every thing ; but are not. Thefe I follow; 
 
 " Not for their fpcrt and laughter, but for gain 
 
 " To laugh with them, and wonder at their parts: 
 
 " Whate'er they lay, I praife itj if again 
 
 upon the ftage before ; msflcr 
 of a more delicate manner 
 of adulation than ordinary flat- 
 terers, and fupporting his cou- 
 fequence with his patron at the 
 
 * But mine's a new 
 erV.] Thbugh the Vain Man 
 and the Flatterer were charac- 
 ters in great meafure dependant 
 on each other, and therefore 
 
 him, and laughs at him. C- 
 m:dendo & deride ndo. Gnatho's 
 
 commonly fhewn together, yet fame time that he lives upon 
 
 it is mofl probable, that in the 
 
 Colax of Menander, from 
 
 whence Gnatho and Thrafo acquaintance defcribes the -old 
 
 were taken by our author, the fchool of Parafites, which gives 
 him occafion to fliew, in his 
 turn, the fuperior excellence of 
 the new fel, of which he is 
 himftlf the founder. The firft 
 of thefe, as Madam Dacier cb- 
 ferves juiVy, was the exaft de- 
 finition of a Parafite, who is 
 
 Parafite was the chief charac- 
 ter, as in the AA^^T, or the 
 Boafler, the Greek Comedy, 
 from which Plautus took his 
 Miles Gloriofus, the Bragga- 
 dochio Captain was moft pro- 
 bably the principal. Bat this 
 I think is not all: for in the 
 prefent in fiance the Poet feems 
 to have intended to introduce a 
 i ; ew fort of Parafite, never feen 
 
 El hie quidem, bfrc/e, tiifi qui colaplos ferpeti 
 
 } olis Para/jfi/s, frangique aulas in taput, 
 
 J'd ire extra portam trigeminam ad fatcum licet. 
 
 CAPTEIVEI, A 61. i. 
 And here the Parafite, unlefs he can 
 Bear blows, and l.ave pots broken on his fconce, 
 Without the city-gate m?.y beg his bread. 
 
 defcribed on almofl every occa- 
 fion by Plautus, as a fellow 
 beaten, kicked, and cuffed at 
 plcafure.
 
 ! 5 4 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 " They contradift, I praife that too: Does any 
 
 " Deny ? I too deny : Affirm ? I too 
 
 " Affirm : and in a word I've brought myfelf 
 
 " To fay, tmfay, fwear, and forfwear, at pleafure : 
 
 " And that is now the beft of all profefiions." 
 
 Par. A fpecial fellow this ! who drives fools mad. 
 
 Gnat. Deep in this converfation, we at length 
 Come to the Market, where the fev'ral tradefmen, 
 Butchers, cooks, grocers, poult'rers, fifhmongers, 
 (Who, while my means were ample, profited, 
 And, tho' now wafted, profit by me ftill,) 
 All run with joy to me, falute, invite, 
 And bid me welcome. He, poor half-ftarv'd wretch, 
 Soon as he faw me thus careft, and found 
 I got my bread fo eafily, defir'd 
 He might have leave to learn that art of me. 
 I bad him follow me, if poffible : 
 And, as the Schools of the Philofophers 
 
 Gnatho, on the contrary, by obnoxious to Diderot, with 
 
 his artful adulation, contrives which he introduces himfelf to 
 
 to be carefled in/lead of ill- the audience; throws a new 
 
 treated. Had the Colax of light on all he fays and does ; 
 
 Plautus at leaft remained to us, and is a ftrong proof of the ex- 
 
 wc fhould perhaps have fl-en the ccllence of Menander in draw- 
 
 fpecifick difference between ing characters. However this 
 
 Him and other Parafites more may be, it is certain that Gnatho 
 
 at large. In the Eunuch Gnatho is one of the moft agreeable 
 
 is but epifodical^ but if this Parafites in any play, antient 
 
 manner of confidering his cha- or modern, except the incom- 
 
 radler be not too refined, it ac- parable Falftaff. 
 counts for the long fpeech, fo 
 
 2 Have
 
 THE EUNUCH. i - 
 
 Have ta'en from the Philofophers their name?, 
 So, in like manner, let all Parafites 
 Be calPd from me Gnathonicks ! 
 
 Par. Mark, what eafe, 
 And being kept at other's coft produces! 
 
 Gnat. But hold, I muft convey this girl to Thais, 
 And bid her forth to fup. Ha, Parmeno ! 
 Our rival's (lave, Handing at Thais' door ! 
 -How melancholy he appears ! All's fafe : 
 Thefe poor rogues find but a cold welcome here. 
 I'll play upon this knave. [afide. 
 
 Par. Thefe fellows think 
 This prefent v/ill make Thais all their own. [afide. 
 
 Gnat. To Parmeno, his lov'd and honour'd friend, 
 Gnatho fends greeting, [ironically.'] What are you upon?* 
 
 Par. My legs. 
 
 Gnat. I fee it. Is there nothing here 
 Difpleafing to you ? 
 
 Par. You. 
 
 Gnat. I do believe it. 
 But prithee, is there nothing elfe ? 
 
 Par. Wherefore? 
 
 Gnat. Becaufe you're melancholy. 
 
 * What are you upon? My tus. There is much the fame 
 Legs.] ^uid agitur? Statur. A kind of conceit with the prefent 
 mere play upon words, which in the Merry Wives of Wind- 
 is alfo in the Pfeudolus of Plaa- for. 
 
 Falflaf. My honeft lads, I will tell you what I am About. 
 Piftd. Two Yards and more. 
 
 Par.
 
 T H E E U N U C H. 
 Par. Not at all. 
 Gnat. Well, do not be fo ! Pray, now, what d'ye 
 
 think 
 Of this young handmaid ? 
 
 Par. Troth, Die's not amifs. 
 
 Gnat. I plague the rafcal. \balf-afide. 
 
 Par. How the knave's deceiv'd ! \balf-afide. 
 
 Gnat. Will not this gift be very acceptable 
 To Thais, think you ? 
 
 Par. You'd infmuate 
 
 That we're fhut out. There is, alas, a change 
 In all things. 
 
 Gnat. For thefe fix months, Parmeno, 
 For fix whole months at leaft, I'll make you eafy ; 
 You fhan't run up and down, and watch till day-light ; 
 Come, don't I make you happy ? 
 
 Par. Very happy. 
 
 Gnat. 'Tis my way with my friends. 
 
 Par. You're very good. 
 
 Gnat. But I detain you : you, perhaps, was going 
 Somewhere elfe. 
 
 Par. No where. 
 
 Gnat. May I beg you then 
 To ufe your int'reft here, and introduce me 
 To Thais ? 
 
 Par. Hence ! away ! thefe doors 
 Fly open now, becaufe you carry Her. 
 
 [pointing to Pamphila. 
 Gnat.
 
 T H E E U N U C H. 137 
 
 Gnat. Wou'd you have any one call'd forth ? [Exir. 
 
 Par. Well ! well ! 
 
 Pafs but two days ; and you, fo welcome now, 
 That the doors open with your little ringer, 
 Shall kick againft them then, I warrant you, 
 Till your heels ache again, 
 
 Re-Enter G N A T H O. 
 
 Gnat. Ha! Parmeno! 
 
 Are you here ftill! What! are you left a fpy, 
 Left any go-between fhould run by Health 
 To Thais from the Captain ? [Exit, 
 
 Par. Very 1m art ! 
 
 No wonder fuch a wit delights the Captain ! 
 But hold! I fee my mailer's younger fon 
 Coining this way* I Wonder much he mould 
 Defert Pirseus,* where he'splac'don guard. 
 'Tis not for nothing. All in hafte he comes, 
 And feems to look about. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Enter CHOREA. PARMENO htinA] 
 
 Ck*r. Undone ! Undone I 
 The Girl is loft : I know not where me is, 
 
 * Df/errPir^us.] Piraeus, as were placed on guard to watch 
 
 well as Sunium, was a mari- againft the incurfions of pirates, 
 
 time town of Attica, with a or other enemies* DONATUS. 
 port, where the Athenian youth 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 X 3 * t H fi 6 U N U C H. 
 
 Nor where I am : Ah, whither mall I trace ? 
 Where feek ? of whom enquire ? or which way turn ? 
 I'm all uncertain , but have one hope Hill : 
 Where'er frie is, me cannot long lie hid. 
 
 charming face ! all others from my memory 
 Hence I blot out. * Away with com'mon beauties t 
 
 Par. So, here's the other ! and he mutters too 
 
 1 know not what of love. Ah, poor old father ! 
 As for this {tripling, if he once begin, 
 
 His brother's is but jeft and children's play 
 To his mad fury. 
 
 Char. Twice ten thoufand curfes 
 Seize the old wretch, who kept me back to-day ; 
 And me for flaying ! with a fellow too 
 I did not care a farthing for ! But fee ! . 
 Yonder ftands Parmeno. Good day ! 
 
 Par. How now ? 
 
 Wherefore fo fad ? and why this hurry, Chserea ? 
 Whence come you ? 
 
 Ch<er. I ? I cannot tell, i'faith, 
 Whence I am come, or whither I am going, 
 I've fo entirely loft myfelf. 
 
 * A*waj 'with common leauties.'] confifts in the three words encl- 
 
 ^Teedtt quotidianarum forum for- ing in arum, which are admirably 
 
 marum. It is impoffible to tranf- adapted to exprefs difguft, and 
 
 late this paflage without lofing make us even feel that fenfa- 
 
 much of its elegance, which tion. DACIER. 
 
 Par.
 
 THE E U'N U C M. 139 
 
 Par. ' And why ? 
 
 Char. I am in love\ 
 
 Par. Oh brave ! 
 
 Char. Now, Parmeno, 
 
 Now you may mew what kind of man you are. 
 You know you've often told me ; " Chasrea, 
 " Find ibmething out to let your heart upon, 
 " And mark how I will ferve you!" yes, you kno\V 
 You've often faid fo, when I fcrap'd together 
 All the provifions for you at my father's. 
 
 Par. Away, you trifler ! 
 
 Char. Nay, in faith, 'tis true : 
 Now make your promiie good ! and in a caufe 
 Worthy the utmoft Teachings of your foul : 
 A girl, my Parmeno ! not like our mifTes, 
 Whofe mothers try to keep their moulders down, 
 And bind their bofoms, that their ihapes may feem 
 Genteel and Him. Is a girl rather plump ? 
 **They call her Nurfe, and ftint her in her food. 
 Thus art, in ipite of nature, makes them all 
 Mere bulrumes i and therefore they're belov'd, 
 Par. And what's this girl of your's ? 
 
 Char. A miracle. 
 
 Par- Oh, to be furc ! 
 
 * They call her Kurfe.'] Pu- hope, will pardon, and the La- 
 gilem (JJe aiunt. Literally, they dies, approve my foftenijig this 
 tail her Bextr. The learned, J pafTage.
 
 i 4 o T H E E U N U C H, 
 
 Cb*r. True, natural red and white ; 
 Her body firm, and full of precious fluff! 
 
 Par. Her age ? 
 
 Cb<er. About fixteen. 
 
 Par. The very prime ! 
 
 Ch<er. This girl, by force, by Health, or by mtreaty^ 
 Procure me ! how I care not, fo I have her. 
 
 Par. Well, whom does me belong to? 
 
 Cb*r. I don't know. 
 
 Par. Whence comes me ? 
 
 Ck*r. I can't tell. 
 
 Par. Where does me live ? 
 
 Char. I can't tell neither. 
 
 Par. Where was it you faw her ? 
 
 Ch*r. Here in the ftreet. 
 
 Par. And how was it yon loft her ? 
 
 Cb*r. Why, it was that, which I Ib funvd about, 
 As I came hither ! nor was ever man 
 So jilted by good fortune, as myfelf. 
 
 Par. What mifchief now ? 
 
 Cbtr. Confounded luck ! 
 
 Par. How fo ? 
 
 Char. Howfo! d'ye know one Archidemkles, 
 My father's kinfman, and about his age ? 
 
 Par. Full well. 
 
 Char. As I was in purfuit of her 
 He met me. 
 
 Par. Rather inconveniently.
 
 THE E U N U C II. 141 
 
 Char. Oh moft unhappily ! for lighter ills 
 May pafs for inconvenient ^ Parmeno. 
 Nay, I could fwear, with a fafc confcience too, 
 For fix, or feven months, I had not feen him, 
 Till now, when leaft I wifh'd and moft would mun it. 
 Js not this monftrous ? Eh ! 
 
 Par. Oh ! very monftrous. 
 
 Ch<er. Soon as from far he faw me, inftantly, 
 Bent, trembling, drop-jaw'd, gafping, out of breath, 
 He hobbled up to me." Holo ! ho ! Chorea !" 
 I ftopt. D'ye know what I want with you ?" -. 
 
 " What ?" 
 " I have a caufe to-morrow." " Well! what 
 
 then?" 
 
 " Fail not to tell your father, he remember 
 '^To go up with me, as an Advocate*." 
 His~prating took fome time. " Aught elfe ?" faid I. 
 " Nothing," faid he. Away flew I, and faw 
 The girl that inftant turn into this ftreet. 
 
 Par. Sure he muft mean the virgin, juft now brought 
 To Thais for a prefent, 
 
 Char. When I reach'd 
 This place, the girl was vanifti'd. 
 
 * As an Advocate.} The word that accompanied thofe who had 
 
 Advocate, Advocatm, did not caufes, either to do them ho- 
 
 bear the fame fenfe then aj it nour, or to appear as witnefles, 
 
 does with us at prefent. The or to render them fome other 
 
 Advccates,//<foftf/,were friends fervice. DACIER 
 
 L 3 P*r>
 
 1 4 7 T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 Par. Had your lady > 
 
 Any attendants ? T 
 
 Cbar. Yes ; a parafite, 
 \Vith a maid-fervant. 
 
 Par. 'Tis the very fame : 
 Away ! have done ! all's over *, 
 
 Char. What d'ye mean ? 
 
 Par. The Girl I mean. 
 
 Ch<cr. D'ye know then who me is ? 
 Tell me J or have you feen her ? 
 
 Par. Yes, I've feen her ; 
 I know her ; and can tell you where me is. 
 
 Cb<sr. How> my dear Parmeno ! D'ye know lier ? 
 
 Par. Yes. 
 
 Char. And where me is, d'ye know ? 
 
 Par. Yes, there me is -, [pointing. 
 
 Carried to Madam Thais for a prefent. 
 
 Cb*r. What monarch could beftow a gift fo precious? 
 
 Par. The mighty Captain Thrafo, Phasdria's rival. 
 
 Char. Alas, poor brother ! 
 
 Par, Ay, and if you knew 
 The gift he fends to be compar'd with this, 
 You'd cry Alas, indeed ! 
 
 Ch*r. What is his gift? f 
 
 * All's over.] yam concla- f What is bis gift. 1 Obferve 
 piatum ejl. A metaphor taken with what addrefs Terence pro- 
 from the Funeral Ceremonies ceeds to the main part of his 
 pf the Ancients. argument : the Eunuch being 
 
 cafually
 
 THE EUNUCH. 143 
 
 Par. An Eunuch. 
 
 Cb*r. What ! that old and ugly flavc, 
 That he bought yefterday ? 
 
 Par. The very fame. 
 
 Char. Why, furely, he'll be trundled out o'dooit 
 He and his gift together. But till now 
 I never knew, this Th'ais was our neighbour. 
 
 Par. She came but lately. 
 
 Chxr. EvVy way unlucky ! 
 
 Ne'er to have feen her neither ! Prithee, tell me, 
 Is fhe fo handfome, as fhe's faid to be ? * 
 
 Par. Yes faith! 
 
 Cb<r. But nothing to compare to mine. 
 
 Par. Oh, quite another thing. 
 
 Char. But Parmeno ! 
 Contrive that I may have her, 
 
 Par. Well, I will. 
 
 Pepend on my afiiftanee :--- have you any 
 further commands ? [as if going. 
 
 Cb#r. W T here are you going ? 
 
 Par. Home'i 
 
 cafually mentioned, fuggefts, as rea's being received for the Eu 
 
 it were of courfe, the itratagem nuch. He was fuch a ftranger 
 
 of impofmg Chorea upon the fa- to the family, that he himfelf 
 
 roilyof Thais for him. DONAT. did not even know the perfon 
 of Thais. It is added further, 
 
 * Is Jht fo handjlme^ as foe's that ihe has not lived long in 
 
 faid to be ?] Another inftance the neighbourhood, and the 
 
 of the art of Terence, in pre- young fellow has beenchieflyat 
 
 Ccrving the probability of Chz- Pirasus. DONATUS.
 
 144 T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 To bring, according to your brother's order, 
 The (laves to Thais. 
 
 Ch*r. Oh, that happy Eunuch ! 
 To be convey'd into that houfe ! 
 
 Par. Why fo ? 
 
 Char. Why fo ! why, he Hull have that charming 
 
 Girl 
 
 His fellow-fervant, fee her all day long, 
 Converfe with her, dwell under the fame roof, 
 And fometimes eat, and fometimes deep by her, 
 
 Par. And what if Ypu fhould be fo happy ? 
 
 Char. How? 
 Tell me, dear Parmeno t 
 
 Par. AfTume his drefs. 
 
 Chair. His drefs ! what then ? 
 
 Par. I'll carry you for him. 
 
 Char. I hear you. 
 
 Par. I will fay that you are he. 
 
 Chdr. I underfland you. 
 
 Par. So mail you enjoy 
 
 Thofe blefllngs, which but now you envied him : 
 -' Eat with her, be with her, touch, toy with her s 
 
 And fleep by her : fmce none of Thais' maids 
 - Know you, or dream of what you are. Bcfides 
 Your figure, and your age are fuch, that you 
 May well pafs for an Eunuch* 
 ' Chtr. Oh, well faid ! 
 
 1 ne'er
 
 T H E E U N U C H. 145 
 
 I ne'er heard better counfel. Come, let's in! 
 Drefs me, and carry me ! Away, make hafte ! 
 
 Par. What are you at ? I did but jeft. 
 
 Cb*r. You trifle. 
 
 Par. I'm ruin'd : Fool, what have I done ? 
 
 Nay whither 
 D'ye pufh me thus ? you'll throw me down. Nay, flay! 
 
 Cb*r. Away. 
 
 Par. Nay prithee ! 
 
 Cb*r. I'm refolv'd, 
 
 Par. Confider , 
 You carry this too far. 
 
 Cb*r. No, not at all. 
 Give way ! 
 
 Par. And Parmeno muft pay for all. * 
 Ah, we do wrong ! 
 
 Char. Is it then wrong, for mef 
 To be convey 'd into a houfe of harlots, 
 And turn thofe very arts on Them, with which 
 They hamper Us, and turn our youth to fcorn ? 
 
 * And Parmeno mu/t pay for were fure to have them throws 
 
 all.~\ Ijleec in me cudetur faba. at their heads. DONATUS. 
 Literally, the Bean will be threjb- The commentators give us fe- 
 
 td on me. A Proverb taken veral other interpretations of 
 
 from the countrymen's threfli- this proverb ; but all concur 
 
 ing Beans ; or from the cooks concerning the import of it. 
 dreffing them, who when they ^ j s it t h en ivrong.] HereTe- 
 
 had not moiftened them enough, rence obliquely defends the fub- 
 
 but left them hard and tough, jeft of the piece, DONATUS. 
 
 c Can
 
 i 4 6 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 Can it be wrong for Me too, in my turn, 
 
 To deceive Them, by whom we're all deceiv'd ? . . 
 
 No, rather let it be ! 'tis juft to play 
 
 This trick upon them : which, if greybeards know, 
 
 They'll blame indeed, but all will think well done. 
 
 Par. Well, if you muft, you muft; but do not then 
 After all's over, throw the blame on Me. 
 
 Cb*r. No, no ! 
 
 Par. But do you order me ? 
 
 Cb*r. I do: 
 
 Order, command, compel you -, nor will e'er 
 Deny, or difavow my putting-on. 
 
 Par. Come on then : follow me ! 
 
 Cbar. Heav'n grant fuccefs [ 
 
 A C T-
 
 T H E E U N U C H. 147 
 
 * ********** * ****** ^^H 
 
 ACT III. SCENE I. 
 
 THRASO, and GNATHCX 
 
 Tkrafo. AND Thais then returns me many thanks ? 
 
 XjL Gnat. Ten thoufand. 
 ^hra. Say, is fhe delighted with it ? 
 Gnat. Not for the prefent's fake fo much, as that 
 From you it was prefented : But therein 
 She truly triumphs, 
 
 Enter P A R M E N O behind. 
 
 Par. I'm upon the watch, 
 To mark a proper opportunity 
 To bring my prefents. But behold the Captain? 
 
 Tbra. It is, indeed, fomething, I know not how, 
 Peculiar to me, do whate'er I pleafe, 
 It will appear agreeable. 
 
 Gnat. In truth 
 I always have obferv'd it, 
 
 fhra. Ey'n the King * 
 
 * Ev'ntbe King.] This may is mentioned in this very play, 
 
 be underftood of Darius the Madam Dacier thinks it ought 
 
 Third, who reigned in the time rather to be underltood of Se- 
 
 pfMenander. But as Pyrrhus leucos,Kingof Afia. PATRICK. 
 
 Held
 
 i 4 S T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 Held himfelf much oblig'd, whate'er I did ; 
 Not fo to others. 
 
 Gnat. Men of wit, like You, 
 The glory, got by other's care and toil, 
 Often transfer unto themfelves. 
 
 <Thra. You've hit it. * 
 
 Gnat. The king then held you 
 
 Tbra. Certainly. 
 
 Gnat. Moft dear. 
 
 *bra. Moft near. He truiled his whole army to me^ 
 His counfels. 
 
 Gnat. Wonderful! 
 
 ^bra. And then, whene'er 
 Satiety of company, or hate 
 Of bufmefs feiz'd him when he would repofe 
 As if you underftand rne< 
 
 Gnat. Perfectly. 
 
 When he wou'd in a manner clear his ftomach 
 Of all uneafmefs. 
 
 tbra. The very thing, 
 On fuch occafions he chofe none but me. 
 
 Gnat. Hui! there's a king indeed! a king of taftef 
 
 * TH R A so. You i>e hit /'/.] That 
 Shakefpeare was familiarly ac- 
 quainted with this comedy is 
 evident from the following paf- 
 fcge. 
 
 " Holcf ernes. Novi Jjomi- 
 
 mour is lofty, his difcourfe 
 peremptory, his tongue filed, 
 his eye ambitious, his gate 
 majedical, and his general 
 behaviour vain, ridiculous, 
 and THRASONICAL." 
 
 " aeai, tanquamte. His hu- Love'i Labour Loft.- 
 
 Thra.
 
 T H E E U N U C H. 149 
 
 . No general man, I promife you. * 
 
 Gnat. Oh no 1 
 
 He mufl have been particular indeed* 
 If he convers'd with You. 
 
 T&ra. The courtiers all 
 Began to envy me, and raiPd in fecret i 
 I car'd not; whence their fpleen increas'd the more. 
 One in particular, who had the charge 
 Of th' elephants from India, grew at laft 
 So very troublefome, " I prithee, Strato, 
 " Are you fo favage, and fo fierce, (fays I) 
 " Becaufe you're governor of the wild beafts ?'* 
 
 Gnat. Oh, finely faid! and fhrewdly! Excellent! 
 Too hard upon him ! what faid He to': ? 
 
 Thra. Nothing. 
 
 Gnat. And how the devil mould he ? 
 
 * No general man.} Homo " The fturgcon does not low 
 
 ptrpaacorum bominum. That is, " much company." 
 one who admits but few into a This paflage of Cicero, quot- 
 
 familiarity with him. Horace ed by the Commentators both 
 
 ufes the fame phrafe, in the on Horace and Terence, puts 
 
 fame fenfe, fpeaking of MX- the meaning of the phrafe out 
 
 cenas. Paucorum hominum, tt of all doubt ; and indeed in 
 
 mentis benefana. In like man- this fenfe the fpeech of Thrafo 
 
 ner, Cicero tells us in his book more properly follows up the 
 
 ae/ato, that Scipio having en- fpeech immediately preceding, 
 
 gaged two or three friends to and without the leaft violence 
 
 fup with him upon fturgeon, to the natural flow of the clia- 
 
 and feeming inclined to detain logue takes off the aukwardnefs 
 
 fome others who dropt in upon of an afide from the reply of 
 
 him. Pontius. whifpered him Gnatho, and leaves him that 
 
 " Take care, Scipio! Acipmfcr eafy raillery, which diilinguifhes 
 
 " ifte paucorum hominum e/t. him in mod paru of the p!ay.
 
 i 5 o T H E E U N U C M* 
 
 Par. Gracious heav'n ! 
 
 The flupid coxcomb! and that rafcal too ! \afidt. 
 Thra. Ay! but the ftoryof the Rhodian, Gnatho! 
 How fmart I was upon him at a feafl 
 Did I ne'er tell you ? 
 
 Gnat. Never : but pray do ! 
 I've heard it o'er and o'er a thoufand times, [afidt, 
 
 Tbra. We were by chance together at a feaft-<- 
 This Rhodian, that I told you of, and I. 
 I, as it happen'd, had a wench: Thefpark 
 Began to toy with Her, and laugh at Me. 
 " Why how now, Impudence! (faid I) are You * 
 " A hare yourfelf, and yet would hunt for game ?* 
 
 Gnat. Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Tbra. What's the matter ? 
 
 Gnat. Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Witty! fmart! excellent! incomparable! 
 Is it your own ? I fwear I thought 'twas old. 
 
 Tbra. Why did you ever hear it ? 
 
 Gnat. Very often ; 
 And reckon'd admirable. 
 
 * Are you at/are, &c,~] Leput eus, that Livius Andrcnicus 
 tutt es, et pulpamentum queeris. had inferred it in his plays be* 
 A proverbial expreflion in ufe fore Terence. Commentators, 
 at that time. The proper mean- who enter into a minute expli- 
 ing of it, ftript of the figure, cation of it, offer many conjee- 
 is, ' You are little more than tures, rather curious than folid, 
 " a woman yourfelf, and do and of a nature not fit to be 
 " you want a miftrefs ?" We mentioned here, PATRICK. 
 learn from Donatus and Vopif.
 
 THE EUNUCH. i;i 
 
 Thra. 'Tis my own. 
 
 Gnat. And yet 'twas pity to be fo ievere 
 On a young fellow, and a gentleman, 
 
 Par. Ah ! devil take you ! \afidc. 
 
 Gnat. What became of him ? 
 
 Thra. It did for him. The company were all 
 Ready to die with laughing : in a word, 
 They dreaded me. 
 
 Gnat. No wonder. 
 
 Ttbra. Harkye, Gnatho ! 
 Thais, you know, fufpects I love this Girl, 
 Shall I acquit myfelf ? 
 
 Gnat. On no account. 
 Rather increafe her jealoufy. 
 
 fhra. And why ? 
 
 Gnat. Why ? do you afk ? as if you didn't know! 
 Whene'er me mentions Phaedria, or whene'er 
 She praifes him, to vex you 
 
 Vbra. I perceive. 
 
 Gnat. To hinder that, you've only this refource. 
 When She names Phaedria, name You Pamphila. 
 If She mould fay, " Come! let's have Phsedria 
 " To dinner with us!" " ay, and Pamphila 
 " To fing tons!" if She praife Phaedria's perfon, 
 Praife You the Girl's ! fo give her tit for tat, 
 And gall Her in her turn. 
 
 Sftni.
 
 J 5 2 T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 T'hra. Suppofe me lov'd me, * 
 This might avail me, Gnatho ! 
 
 Gnat. While fhe loves 
 The prefents which you give, expecting 
 So long me loves you ; and fo long you may 
 Have pow'r to vex her. She will always fear 
 To make you angry, left fbme other reap 
 The harveft, which fhe now enjoys alone. 
 
 fhra. You're right : and yet I never thought of if. 
 
 Gnat. Ridiculous ! becaufe you did not turn 
 Your thoughts to't; or how much more readily 
 Wou'd you have hit on this device yourfelf ! 
 
 fS C E N E II. 
 Enter THAIS, and PYTHIAS. 
 
 ttais. I thought I heard the Captain's voice: and fee! 
 Good-day, my Thrafo ! 
 
 fbra. Oh my Thais, welcome ! 
 
 * Suppofe Jhe loifd me t feV.] f Scene feconJ.] SfiSeiaJ per- 
 
 I am at a ]ofs to determine, fons of the play are concerned 
 
 whether it was in order to fhew in this fcene, and yet, by the 
 
 the abiurdity of the Captain, or art and excellence of the Poet, 
 
 from inadvertence in the Poet, there arifes noconfufion of dia- 
 
 that Terence here makesThrafo logue ; each fpeech being ad- 
 
 and Gnatho fpeak in contradic- mirably adapted to the charac- 
 
 tion to the idea of Thais's ter to which it is appropriated, 
 
 wonderful vcaeration for Thra- DONATVS. 
 fo, with which they opened the 
 fccne. 
 
 How
 
 T H E E U N U C R 153 
 
 How does my fweeting? are you fond of me 
 For fending you that mufick-girl ? 
 
 Par. Oh brave ! 
 He fets out nobly ! 
 
 Thais. For your worth I love you. 
 
 Gnat. Come, let's to fupper! why do you delay? 
 
 Par. Mark t'other! he's a chip of the old block.* 
 
 Thais. I'm ready when you pleafe. 
 
 Par. I'll up to her, 
 
 And feem as if but now come forth. Ha! Thais, 
 Where are you gadding ? 
 
 fbais. "Well met, Parmeno ! 
 I was juft going 
 
 Par. Whither? 
 
 Tbais. Don't you fee 
 The Captain ? 
 
 Par. Yes, I fee him to my forrow. 
 The prefents from my mailer wait your pleafure. 
 
 * A Chip cf the dd Block.] the Grecians, the Poets fought 
 
 Ex bomine hunc natum dicas. indeed to exprefs the r9oj> as 
 
 There has been much difpute in their Tragedies the -raflo?, of 
 
 about the meaning of thefe mankind. But this contained 
 
 words. The old familiar expref- only the general chara&ers of 
 
 iion, which I have made ufe of, men and manners ; that is, one 
 
 as, I think, agreeable to the oh- old man or father, one lover, 
 
 vious and natural meaning of one courtezan; fo like another 
 
 them. That Dryden under- as if the fim of them had begot 
 
 flood them in this fenfe is evi- the reit of every fort. Ex bomine 
 
 dent from the following paf- bitnc nalum 4icas. n 
 
 fage. EJ/ay cfDramatickPccJie. 
 
 ' In the New Co-mcdy of 
 
 VOL. I. M Tbra.
 
 154- T H E E U N U C H, 
 
 fkra* Why do we flop thus? wherefore go hot 
 
 hence ? [angrify. 
 
 Par. Befeech you, Captain, let us, with your leave, 
 Produce our prefents, * treat, and parley with her ! 
 I'hra. Fine gifts, I warrant you, compared with mine 
 Par. They'll anfwer for themfelves. Ho, there ! 
 
 within ! 
 Order the flaves, I told you, to come forth. 
 
 Enter a Black Girl 
 
 This way! do You Hand forward! This girl, ma'am 
 Comes quite from ./Ethiopia. 
 
 <Thra. Worth three Minas.-f- 
 
 Gnat. Scarce. 
 
 Par. Ho! where are you,* Dorus? oh, come hither 
 
 Enter Chasrea in the EunucWs lal'it. 
 
 An Eunuch, Madam! of a liberal air, 
 And in his prime ! 
 
 'Thais. Now as I live, he's handfome ! 
 
 Par. What fay You, Gnatho ? Is he defpicable ? 
 
 Or, Captain, what fay You ? Dumb ? Praife 
 
 fufficient ! 
 
 * Treat, and parley nuitk ber ."\ f Mirue.'] A Mina was 
 
 Ccnvenire & colloqui. Military equal to 3/. 4*. 7^. COOKE. 
 terms ; ufed by Parmeno to fncer 
 at Thrafo. DONATUS. 
 
 Try
 
 THE EUNUCH. 2 ,;., 
 
 Try him in letters, exerciies, mufick : 
 In all the arts a gentleman mould know, 
 I'll warrant him accomplifh'd.* 
 
 Tbra. Troth, that Eunuch 
 Is well enough* 
 
 Par. And he, who fends thefe prefentSj 
 Requires you not to live for kim alone, 
 And for his fake to mut out all mankind : 
 Nor does he tell his battles, mew his wounds, 
 Or fhackle your free will, as fome folks do; 
 
 [looking at Thrafoi 
 
 But when 'twill not be troublefome, or when 
 You've leifure, in due feafon, he's content 
 If then he is admitted. 
 
 Thra. This poor wretch 
 Seems to belong to a poor wretched mafter, 
 
 Gnat. Beyond all doubt ; for who that could obtfUD 
 Another, would endure a Have like this ? 
 
 * /'// warrant kiat accent- one might be almoft tempted 
 
 plijlfd.] From the following to imagine that Shakefpfare" 
 
 paffage in Twelfth Night, con- had the Eunuch of Tereue in 
 
 erning the difguife, of Violaj his eye. 
 
 Conceal me what I am, and be my aid 
 For fuch difguife as haply mall become 
 The form of my intent. I'll ferve this Duke ; 
 Thou lhalt prefent me as an Eunuch to him : 
 It may be worth thy pains ; for I can fing, 
 And fpeak to him in many forts of muiiel;, 
 That will allow me very worth his fervice. 
 
 M 3 .f 3 ^
 
 I5 6 T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 Par. Peace, wretch, that art below the meanefl 
 
 nave! 
 
 You, that could bring your mind fo very low, 
 As to cry Ay and No at yon fool's bidding, 
 I'm fure, might get your bread out o* the fire. * 
 
 Thra. Why don't we go ? [impatiently. 
 
 'Thais. Let me but introduce 
 Thefe firft, and give fome orders in the houfe, 
 And I'll attend you. [Exit with Chasrea, andthesEthiopian. 
 
 Thra. I'll depart from hence. 
 Gnatho, wait you for her ! 
 
 Par. It ill befeems 
 
 The dignity of a renown'd commander, 
 T'efcort his miftrefs in the ftreet, 
 
 I'hra. Away, 
 
 Slave! you're beneath my notice like your matter. 
 
 [Exit Par. 
 
 Gnat. Ha! ha! ha! ha! 
 
 'Tbra. What moves your laughter, Gnatho? 
 
 Gnat. Your fpeech but now: and then the Rhodian 
 
 came 
 Acrofs my mind. But Thais comes, 
 
 Vbra. Go, fun, 
 
 * Getyour breaJoutcfthefre.'] Antients of throwing victuals 
 E flamma petere cibum. A pro- into the fire, at the time of burn- 
 verb to exprefs the loweft de- ing their dead ; to eat which was 
 gree of meannefs and infamy : looked on asan aft of the great- 
 taken fiom a cuftom among the eft indignity. COOKE. 
 
 5 And
 
 THE EUNUCH. 157 
 
 And fee that ev'ry tiling's prepar'd at home ! 
 
 Gnat. It mall be done. [Exit. 
 
 Thais. [entering with Pythias.] Take care now, 
 
 Pythias, * 
 
 Great care, if Chremes come, to prefs him flay ; 
 Or, if that's inconvenient, to return : 
 If that's impofiible, then bring him to me ! 
 
 Pytb. I'll do fo. 
 
 Thais. Hold ! what elfe had I to fay ? 
 Take care, be fure, of yonder virgin ! fee, 
 You keep at home | 
 
 Thra. Let's go ! 
 
 Thais. Girls, follow me ! 
 
 7/, attended by Servants and Thrafo. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 CHREMES alone. 
 
 In truth, the more and more I think, the more 
 I am convinc'd that Thais means me ill : 
 So plain I fee her arts to draw me in. 
 fjXn when me firfl invited me, (and when 
 Had any afk'd, What bufimfs have you there ? 
 The queilion would have ftagger'd me) (he fram'd 
 Sev'ral excufes to detain me there. 
 
 * Takecare, KQIV Pjthia;, &c.~] An artful preparation for ihe 
 enfuing difference between her and Thrafo. DON ATUS. 
 
 M 3 Said
 
 I5 T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 Said fhe had * made a facrifice, and had 
 
 Affairs of confequence to fettle with me. 
 
 ? Oho ! thought I immediately, I frnell 
 
 A trick upon me ! down fhe fat, behav'd 
 
 Familiarly, and tried to beat about 
 
 For converfation , being at a lofs, 
 
 She afk'd, how long my parents had been dead ? 
 
 I told her, long time fmce : on which fhe afk'd> 
 
 Whether I had a coimtry-houfe at Sunium ? 
 
 And how far from the fea ? I half believe 
 
 She likes my villa, and would wheedle me 
 
 To give it her. Her final queftions were, 
 
 If I ne'er loft a little fifter thence ? 
 
 Who was mifs'd with her what me had, when loft ? 
 
 If there was' any body capable 
 
 Of recollecting her ? Why all thefe queftions ? 
 
 Unlefs perhaps fhe means, a faucy baggage ! 
 
 To play the counterfeit, and feign herfelf 
 
 That fifter, who was loft fo long ago ? 
 
 But fhe, if living, is about fixteen ;' 
 
 Not more : and Thais older than myfelf. 
 
 She fent befide to prefs me earneftly 
 
 To vifit her again. Or, let her fay 
 
 What fhe would have -, or trouble me no more ! 
 
 I'll not return a third time. Ho ! who's there ? 
 
 Here am I ! Chremes ! 
 
 * Made a facrfoe .] The Antients ufed to offer a facrifice, be- 
 fcre they entered on any affair of importance. COOKE. 
 
 SCENE
 
 THE EUNUCH. 159 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Enter PYTHIAS. 
 
 Pyth. Oh, fweet, charming, Sir! 
 
 Cbre. A coaxing huffy ! did not I forefee 
 A trick upon me ? 
 
 Pyth. Thais begs and prays 
 You'd come again to-morrow. 
 
 Cbre. I am going 
 Into the country. 
 
 Pytb. Nay, now, prithee come! 
 
 Cbre. I can't, I tell you. 
 
 Pytb. Walk in then, and flay 
 Till me returns herfelf. 
 
 Cbre. Not I. 
 
 Pytb. And why, 
 Dear Chremes ? [taking bold of bim. 
 
 Cbre. Off, you faucy flut ! 
 
 Pytb. Well, Sir, 
 
 Since you're fo pofitive, fhall I intreat you 
 To go to Her ? 
 
 Cbre. I will. 
 
 Pyth. Here, Dorias ! [a maid-fervant enters. 
 
 Conduct this gentleman to Captain Thrafo's. 
 
 [Pythias re-enters. Chremes goes out another 
 way ivitb Dorias. 
 
 M 4 SCENE
 
 i6o THE EUNUCH. 
 
 
 SCENE V. 
 ANTIPHO alone, 
 
 But yefterday a knot of us young fellows 
 
 Aifembled at Piraeus, and agreed 
 
 To club together for a feaft to-day. 
 
 Chaerea had charge of all ; the rings were given, * 
 
 And time, and place appointed. The time's paft ; 
 
 No entertainment's at the place , and Chaerea 
 
 Is no where to be met with. For my part, 
 
 I'm quite to feek in this ; and what to fay, 
 
 Or guefs, I know not. Yet the company 
 
 Have all commiflion'd me to find him out. 
 
 I'll fee if he's at home -, but who comes here 
 
 From Thais? Is it He, or no? 'Tis He. 
 
 What manner of man's here ? what habit's that ? 
 
 What mifchief is the meaning of all this ? 
 
 I'm all aftonilhment, ^and cannot guefs. 
 
 But I'll withdraw awhile, and try to learn., [retires. 
 
 * Rings lue re given. ] It was ufual to dcpoflt their rings, as 
 pledges of obfervjng their appointment. 
 
 SCENE
 
 T H E E U N U C H. 161 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 Enter CHOREA in the Eunuch's Habit. 
 
 Char, [looking about.'] Is any body here ? No, 
 
 nobody. 
 
 Does any follow me ? No, nobody. 
 May I then let my extacy break forth ? 
 *Oh, Jupiter ! 'tis now the very time, 
 When I could fuffer to be put to death, 
 Left, not another tranfport, like to this, 
 Remain in life to come. But is there not 
 Some curious impertinent to come 
 Acrofs me now, and murder me with queftions ? 
 To afk, why I'm fo flutter'd ? why fo joyful ? 
 Whither I'm going? whence I came? from whence 
 I got this habit ? what I'm looking after ? 
 Whether I'm in my fenfes ? or ftark mad ? 
 
 * Ob, Jupiter ! 'tis now the referred to in a note on the laft 
 
 very time.} Prob Jupiter ! Nunc aft of the Andrian, contains 
 
 eft profcfto, cum interjici perpeti exactly the fame fentiment, and 
 
 me poj/um, Ne hoc gaudium conta- almoft in the fame words with 
 
 minet <vita agritudine aliqua. this of Terence. 
 The paflage from Shakefpeare 
 
 If I were now to die, 
 'Twere now to be moft happy ; for, I fear, 
 My foul hath her content fo abfolute, 
 That not another comfort, like to this, 
 Succeeds in unknown fate. OTHELLO. 
 
 Anti.
 
 1 62 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 Anti. I'll go myfelf, and do that kindnefs to him. 
 Chasrea, [advancing] what's all this flutter ? what's 
 
 this drefs ? 
 
 What is't tranfports you ? what d'ye want ? art mad? 
 Why do you flare at me ? and why not fpeak ? 
 
 Char. O happy, happy day ! You're welcome, friend ! 
 There's not a man on earth I'd rather fee 
 This moment than yourfelf. 
 
 Anti. Come, tell me all ! 
 
 Cb<zr. Tell you ! I will befeech you give me hearing, 
 D'y e know my brother's miilrefs here ? 
 
 Anti. I do : 
 Thais, I think. 
 
 Char. The fame, 
 
 Anti. I recollect. 
 
 Char. To-day a girl was fent a prefent to her, 
 Why need I fpeak or praife her beauty now 
 To You, that know me, and my tafte fo well ? 
 She fet me all on fire. 
 
 Anti. Is me fo handfome ? 
 
 Char. Moft exqnifite; Oh, had you but once feenher, 
 You would pronounce her, I'm confident, 
 The firft of woman-kind. But in a word, 
 I fell in love with her. By great good luck 
 There was at home an Eunuch, which my brother 
 Had bought for Thais, but not yet fent thither, 
 ' -I had a gentle hint from Parmeno, 
 
 Which
 
 THE EUNUCH. 163 
 
 Which I feiz'd greedily. 
 
 Anti. And what was that ? 
 
 Char. Peace, and I'll tell yon. To change dreflcs 
 
 with him, 
 
 And order Parmeno to carry me 
 Inftead of him. 
 
 Anti. How ? for an Eunuch, You ? 
 
 Cb*r. E'en fo. 
 
 Anti. What good could you derive from that ? 
 
 Cb^er. What good! why, fee, and hear, and be 
 
 with her 
 
 I languim'd for, my Antipho ! was That 
 An idle reafon, or a trivial good ? 
 To Thais I'm deliver'd j me receives me, 
 And carries me with joy into her houfe \ 
 Commits the charming girl 
 
 Anti. To whom ? to You ? 
 
 Cb*r. To Me, 
 
 Anti. In fpecial hands, I muft confefs. 
 
 Char. Injoins me, to permit no man come near her j 
 s or to depart, myfelf, one inftant from her ; 
 *But in an inner chamber to remain 
 Alone with her alone. I nod, and look 
 
 * But in an inner chamber, permitted to come to them, but 
 
 fcfc.] In Greece the women relations, and the flaves that 
 
 always occupied the interior waited upon them. DACIER. 
 ppartments, where nobody was 
 
 Baflv
 
 1 64 T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 Bafhfully on the ground. 
 
 Anti. Poor fimple foul ! 
 
 Char. I am bid forth, fays me ; and carries off 
 All her maid-fervants with her, fave fome few 
 Raw novices, who flraight prepar'd the bath. 
 I bad them hafte ; and while it was preparing, 
 In a retiring-room the Virgin fat -, 
 * Viewing a picture, where the tale was drawn 
 Of Jove's defcending in a golden Ihow'r 
 To Dajiae's bofom. I beheld it too, 
 And becaufe He of old the like game play'd, 
 I felt my mind exult the more within me, 
 That Jove mould change himfelf into a man, 
 And fteal in fecret thro* a ftranger-roof, 
 With a mere woman to intrigue. Great Jove, 
 Who makes the higheft heav'ns with his thunder !f 
 And I, poor mortal man, not do the fame ! 
 I did it, and with all my heart I did it. 
 While thoughts, like thefe, pofleft my foul, they 
 call'd 
 
 * Viewing a piflurtiwhere the piter to Danae, in a fliower of 
 
 7"a/e, &c.~\ A very proper piece gold. Oh the avarice of harlots! 
 
 of furniture for the houfe of a DONATUS. 
 courtezan, giving an example 
 
 of loofe and mercenary love ; . t Wtn Jhakes the highejt 
 calculated to excite wantoa 1**oe*i -with his thunder.'] ^a/- 
 thoughts, and at the fame time tem P la cotli fumme fonitu concutit. 
 hinting to the young lover that A parody on a paflage in Ennius. 
 h muft make his way to the DONATUS. 
 bofom of his miilrefs, like To- 
 
 The
 
 T II E E U N U C H. 165 
 
 The girl to bathe. She goes, bathes, then returns: 
 
 Which done, the fervants put her into bed. 
 
 I ftand to wait their orders. Up comes one, 
 
 " Here, harkye, Dorus ! take this fan, and mark 
 
 " You cool her gently thus, while we go bathe. 
 
 " When we have bath'd, You, if you pleafe, 
 
 " bathe too." 
 I, with a fober air, receive the fan. 
 
 Anti. Then would I fain have feen your flmplc 
 
 face ! 
 
 I Ihould have been delighted to behold 
 How like an afs you look'd, and held the fan. 
 
 Char. Scarce had Ihe fpoke, when all rufh'd out 
 
 o'doors ; 
 
 Away they go to bathe ; grow full of noife, 
 As fervants ufe, when matters are abroad. 
 Meanwhile deep feiz'd the virgin : I, by Health, 
 Peep'd thro' the fanfticks thus ; then looking round, 
 And feeing all was fafe, made faft the door. 
 
 Anti. What then ? . 
 
 Char. What then, fool ! 
 
 Anti. I confefs. 
 
 Cb*r. D'ye think, 
 Bleft with an opportunity like this, 
 *So fhort, fo wifli'd for, yet fo unexpe&ed, 
 
 * An opportunity fo Jhort.\ according to Chorea's relation, 
 Short indeed, confidering the are crouded into it. All the 
 number of incidents, which, time, allowed for this adven- 
 ture.
 
 166 T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 I'd let it flip ? No. Then I'd been, indeed, 
 The thing I counterfeited. 
 
 Anti. Very true. 
 But what's become of our club-fupper ? 
 
 Ch*r. Ready. 
 
 Anti. An honeft fellow ! where ? at your owrt 
 houfe ? 
 
 CJy^er. At Freeman Difcus's, 
 
 Anti. A great way oif. 
 
 Char. Then we muft make more hafte. 
 
 Anti. But change your drefs. 
 
 Cb*r. Where can I change it ? I'm diftreft. From 
 
 home 
 
 I muft play truant, left I meet my brother. 
 My father too, perhaps, is come to town, -j- 
 
 Anti. Come to my houfe then ! that's the neareft 
 
 place 
 Where you may fhift. 
 
 Ch<er. With all my heart ; let's go ! 
 And at the fame time, I'll confult with you 
 
 ture, is the fhort fpace between that a very ftrift and religious 
 
 the departure of Thais and adherence to the Unities often 
 
 Thrafo and the entrance of drives the Poet into as great ab- 
 
 Chsereaj fo that all this variety furdities as the profeil violation 
 
 of bufmefs of fleeping, bath- of them, 
 ing, ravifhing, &e. is difpatch- 
 
 ed during the two foliloquies of t W f at ^ r to ferbaft is 
 
 Antipho and Chremes, and the (ome to ^w-l Preparation for 
 
 fhort fcene between Chremes the arrival of the father, Do- 
 
 and Pythias. The truth is, NAT us. : ~ 
 
 I HOW
 
 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 How to fecure this dear girl. 
 Anti. Be it fo. * 
 
 * Inftead of this fcsne, Fon- 
 taine, in his Eunuch, has fubfli- 
 tuted one between Chaerea and 
 Pamphila, whom he brings on 
 the ftage, as Baron does Gly- 
 cerium in the Andrian. Chorea 
 profefles honourable love, leaves 
 her in the houfe of Thais, and 
 applies to his father, by whofe 
 confcnt he at lad obtains her in 
 marriage. Fontaine was moil 
 probably right in his conjec- 
 ture, that the plot of the Eu- 
 nuch, exaftly as it lies in Te- 
 rence, was not conformable to 
 the feverity of the French, or, 
 
 perhaps, the Englifh ftage. It 
 would certainly therefore have 
 been advifable, in order to a- 
 dapt it for reprefentation before 
 a modern audience, to change 
 fome circumflances, and the 
 introduction of Pamphila might 
 perhaps have been hazarded 
 not without fuccefs: But by de- 
 parting fo eflentially, as Fon- 
 taine has done from Menaader 
 and Terence, the very founda- 
 tions of the fable are undermi- 
 ned, and itlofes moft part of that 
 vivacity and intereft fo remark- 
 able ia the Play before us. 
 
 ACT
 
 168 
 
 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 A C T IV. S C E N E I. 
 
 Enter D O R I A S, with a Cajket *. 
 
 D O R I A S. 
 
 NOW, as I hope for mercy, I'm afraid, 
 From what I've feen, left yonder fwaggerer 
 Make fome difturbance, or do violence 
 
 * Enter Dorias.J 'Tis true, 
 the Ancients have kept the 
 continuity of fcenes fomewhat 
 better than the Moderns. Two 
 do not perpetually coma in to- 
 gether, talk, and go out to- 
 gether ; and other two fucceed 
 them, and do the fame through- 
 out the aft, which the Englifh 
 calLbythe name of (ingle fcenes; 
 but the reafon is, becaufe they 
 have feldom above two or three 
 fccnes, properly fo called, in 
 every aft ; for it is to be ac- 
 counted a new fcene, not only 
 every time the (lage is empty, 
 but every perfon who enters, 
 though to others, makes it fo ; 
 becaufe he introduces a new bu- 
 fmcfs. Now the plots of their 
 plays being narrow, and the per- 
 ibns few, one of their afts is 
 
 written in a lefs compafs than 
 one of our well- wrought fcenes ; 
 and yet they are often deficient 
 even in this. To go no farther 
 than Terence, you. find, in the 
 Eunuch, An tipho en teringfingle 
 in the midft of the third Aft, 
 after Chremes and Pythias were 
 gone off: in the fame play you 
 have likewife Dorias begin- 
 ning the fourth aft alone ; and 
 after fhe has made a relation 
 of what was done at the Soldi- 
 er's entertainment, (which by 
 the way was very inartificial, 
 becaufe (he was prefumed to 
 fpeak direftly to the audience ; 
 and to acquaint them with what 
 was neceffary to be known, but 
 yet fl.ould have been fo con- 
 trived by the Poet, as to have 
 been told by perfons of the 
 Drama
 
 THE EUNUCH. 169 
 
 To Thais. For, as foon as Chrenrjes came, 
 (Chremes, the youth that's brother to the virgin) 
 She beg'd of Thrafo, he might be admitted. 
 This piqu'd him ; yet he durft not well refufe. 
 She, fearing Chremes mould not be detain'd, 
 Till me had time and opportunity 
 To tell him all me wifh'd about his filler, 
 Urg'd Thrafo more and more to aik him in. 
 The Captain coldly aiks him-, down he fat -, 
 And Thais enter'd into chat with him. 
 The Captain, fancying a rival brought 
 Before his face, refolv'd to vex Her too : 
 " Here, boy," faid he, " let Pamphila be call'd 
 " To entertain us!"" Pamphila !" cries Thais 
 " She at a banquet! No, it muft not be." 
 Thrafo infilling on't, a broil enfued : 
 On which my Miflrefs flyly flipping off 
 Her jewels,* gave them me to bear away , 
 
 Drama to one another, and fo by the departure of Softrata, 
 
 by them to have come to the Geta, and Canthara ; and in- 
 
 knowledge of the people) flie deed you can fcarce look into 
 
 quits the ftage, and Phxdria any of his comedies, where you 
 
 enters next, alone likewife : will not prefently difcover the 
 
 He alfo gives you an account fame interruption, 
 
 of himfelf, and of his return- DRYDEN'J E/ayif Dramatick 
 
 ing from the country in mono- Poefie. 
 logue, to which unnatural way 
 
 of narration Terence is fubjedl * Slipping off ker jewels. ~\ Be- 
 
 in all his plays. In his Adelphi, caufe courtezans were not aj- 
 
 or Brothers, Syrus and Demea lowed to wear gold or jewels in 
 
 enter, after the fcene is broken the ftrect. DACIER. 
 
 VOL. I. N Which
 
 170 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 Which is, I know, a certain fign, fhe will, 
 
 As foon as poflible, fheak off herfelf. [,Y/V; - 
 
 SCENE U. 
 Enter PH^EDRIA.* 
 
 Ph<ed. Going into the country, I began 
 (As happens when the mind is ill at eafe) 
 To ponder with myfelf upon the road, 
 Toiling from thought to thought, and viewing all 
 In the worft light. While thus I ruminate, 
 I pafs'd unconfcioufly my country-houfe, 
 And journied far beyond, ere I perceiv'd it. 
 I turn'd about, but with a heavy heart ; 
 And foon as to the very fpot I came 
 Where the roads part, I ftopt. Then paus'd awhile : 
 " Alas ! thought I, and muft I here remain 
 " Two days? alone? without her? Well! what then? 
 " That's nothing. What, is't nothing? If I've not 
 " The privilege to touch her, fliaU I not 
 " Behold her neither ? If one may not be, 
 *' At leaft the other lhall. And certainly 
 
 * Enter Phaedria.] Here the him out of the way, to give pro- 
 Poet artfully finds a reafon to bability to thofe incidents ne- ; 
 bring Phaedria 'back again ; as ceflary to happen in hisabfence. 
 he at firft with equal art fent DONATUS.
 
 T H E E U N U C H. 171 
 
 *' * Love, in its laft degree, is fomething dill." 
 Then I, on purpofe, paft the houfe. But fee ! 
 Pythias breaks forth affrighted. What means this ? 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Enter PYTHIAS <^DORIAS> PH^DRIA 
 
 at a diftance. 
 
 Pytb. Where mall I find, unhappy that I am, 
 Where feek this rafcal-flave ? this flave, that durft 
 Attempt a deed like this ? Undone! undone! 
 
 Pb<ed. What this may be, I dread. 
 
 Pytb. And then the villain, 
 After he had abus'd the virgin, tore 
 The poor girl's cloaths, and dragg'd her by the hair. 
 
 Pb*d. How's this ? 
 
 Pytb. Oh, were he but within my reach, 
 How could I fly upon the vagabond, 
 And tear the villain's eyes out with my nails ! 
 
 Ph<ed. What tumult's this, arifen in my abfence ? 
 I'll go and afk her. [gcing up.] What's the matter, 
 
 Pythias ? 
 Why. thus difturb'd ? and whom is it you feek ? 
 
 Pytb. Whom do I feek? Away, Sir Phsdria ! 
 
 * Love, in its lajl degree* \3e .] phor taken from the lines drawn 
 Extremd lined amare, hand nikil in the chariot races. 
 eft. Suppofed to be a mcta- 
 
 N 2 You
 
 i;2 T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 You and your gifts together ! 
 
 Ph<cd. What's the matter ? 
 
 Pylb. The matter, Sir ! The Eunuch, that you 
 
 fent us, 
 
 Has made fine work here ! the young Virgin, whom 
 The Captain gave my miftrefs, he has ravifti'd. 
 
 Pb&d. Ravifh'd ? How fay you ? 
 
 Pytb. Ruin'd and undone ! 
 
 Pb*d. You're drunk. 
 
 Pytb. Would thofe, who wifli me ill, were ib I 
 
 Don. Ah, Pythias ! what ilrange prodigy is this ? 
 
 Pb<ed. You're mad : how could an Eunuch 
 
 Pytb. I don't know 
 
 Or who, or what he was. What he has done, 
 The thing itfelf declares. The Virgin weeps ; 
 Nor, when you afk what ails her, dare me tell. 
 But he, good man, is no where to be found : 
 And I fear too, that when he dole away, 
 He carried fomething off. 
 
 Ph<ed. I can't conceive 
 Whither the rafcal can have flown, unk-fs 
 He to our houfe, perhaps, flunk back again. 
 
 Pytb. See now, I pray you, if he has. 
 Pb*d. I will. [Exit. 
 
 ~Dt>ri. Good lack! fo Mrange a thing I never 
 heard. 
 
 Pylb. I've heard, that they lov'd women mightily, 
 
 But
 
 THE EUNUCH. 173 
 
 But could do nothing; yet I never thought on't :* 
 For if I had, I'd have confin'd him clofe 
 Infome bye place, nor trufted the girl to him. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Re-enter P H JE D R I A, with D O R U S the 
 Eunuch^ in ChsereaV cloatbs. 
 
 Ph<ed. Out, rafcal, out! What are you refty, 
 
 firrah ? 
 Out, thou vile bargain ! 
 
 Dor. Dear Sir ! {frying. 
 
 Ph<fd. See the wretch ! 
 
 What a wry mouth he makes ! Inform me, rafcal, 
 What means this coming back, and change of dretb 3 
 What anfwer, firrah ? If I had delay'd 
 A minute longer, Pythias, I had mifs'd him, 
 He was equipp'd fo bravely for his flight. 
 
 Pytb. What, have you got the rogue ? 
 
 Pb<ed. I warrant you. 
 
 Pyth. Well done! well done ! 
 
 Deri. Ay, marry, very well. 
 
 * Yet I never thought cn't.'] or refer to what is fald in the 
 
 Vit-um mifer<e non in mentetn ve- preceding verfe, Amatorts muli- 
 
 nerat. This muft either be erum ejje audieram eos maximos, 
 
 taken abfohnely that fhe never " I've heard that theylov'd wo- 
 
 apprchended any fuch accident, " men mightily." PATRICK. 
 
 N 3 Pytb.
 
 174 T H E E U N U C H< 
 
 Pytb. Where is he ? 
 
 Pbad. Don't you fee him ? 
 
 Pytb. See him? whom? 
 
 Ph<ed. This fellow, to be fure. 
 
 Pytb. This man ! who is he ? 
 
 Pbad. He that was carried to your houfe to-day. 
 
 Pytb. None of our people ever laid their eyes 
 Upon this fellow, Phsedria ! 
 
 Ph*d. Never faw him ? 
 
 Pytb. Why, did you think this fellow had been. 
 
 brought 
 To Us ? 
 
 Pb*d. Yes, furcly, for I had no other. 
 
 Pytb. Oh dear! this fellow's not to be compared 
 To t'other. He was elegant, and handfome. 
 
 Pb*d. Ay, fo he might appear awhile ago, 
 Becaufe he had gay cloaths on : now he feems 
 Ugly, becaufe he's ftript. 
 
 Pytb. Nay, prithee, peace ! 
 As if the difference was fo very fmall ! _ . 
 The youth conducted to our houfe to-day, 
 'Twou'd do you good to caft your eyes on,' Ph^dria: 
 This is adrowfy, withered, weazel-fac'd * 
 Old fellow. 
 
 which he Lizard. *, , 
 
 likely
 
 THE EUNUCH. i ; j 
 
 Pbad. How ? you drive me to that pafs, 
 That I icarce know what I have done myfelf. 
 Did not I buy you, rafcal ? [to Dorus. 
 
 Dor. Yes, Sir. 
 Pytb. Order him 
 To anfwer Me. 
 
 Pbtcd. Well, queftion him. 
 Pytb. to Dorus.'] Was You 
 Brought here to-day ? [/hakes his bead.'} See there ! 
 
 Not He. It was 
 
 Another, a young lad, about fixteen, 
 Whom Parmeno brought with him. 
 Pbad. to Dorus.'] Speak to Me ! 
 Hrft tell me, whence had you that coat ? What 
 
 dumb ? 
 I'll make you fpeak, you villain ? [beating bim. 
 
 Dor. Chserea came [frying. 
 
 Pbxd. My brother? 
 
 Dor. Yes, Sir! 
 
 Pb*d. When? 
 
 Dor. To-day. 
 
 Pbad. How long fince ? 
 
 likely to have made Pythias ex- mal exprefled in it. A Lizard 
 
 prefs her diflike of the Eunuch, being a thin animal, Menander 
 
 by comparing him to a Weazel, probably intended a fimili- 
 
 whofe flcin has much of the tude in the lanknefs. Tateoms 
 
 tawny in it. As to the paflage yjpv may therefore be conftru- 
 
 from Menander, there is no- ed a thin, half-ftarv'd fellow, 
 
 thing of the colour of the aui- COOKE. 
 
 N 4 Der.
 
 176 T HE EUNUCH. 
 
 Dor. Juft now. 
 
 Pb*d. With whom? 
 
 Dcr. With Parmeno. 
 
 Ph*ed. Did you 
 Know him before ? 
 
 Dor. No, Sir; nor e'er heard of him. 
 
 Pb#d. How did you know he was my brother 
 then? 
 
 Dor. Parmeno told me fo, and Chserea 
 Gave me thefe clo'aths 
 , Pb*d. Confufion ! \afide. 
 
 Dcr. Put on mine ; 
 And then they both went out o' doors together. 
 
 Pytb. Now, Sir, do you believe that I am fober ? 
 Now do you think, I've told no lie? And now 
 Are you convinc'd the Girl has been abus'd ! 
 
 Ph*d. Away, fool ! d'ye believe what this wretch 
 fays ? 
 
 Pytb. What fignifies belief ? It fpeaks itfelf, 
 
 Ph*d. apart to Dcrus.~] Come this way harke ye ! 
 
 further ftill. Enough. 
 Tell me once more. Did Chasrea ftrip you ? 
 
 Dor. Yes. 
 
 Pb*d. And put your cloaths on ? 
 
 Dor. Yes, Sir ! 
 
 Phtfd. And was brought, 
 In your Head, hither ? 
 
 Dor. Yes.
 
 THEE UN U C H. I;7 
 
 Ph*d. Great Jupiter! 
 
 [pretending to le in a paffion with him. 
 What a mofl wicked fcoundrel's this ? 
 
 Pytb. Alas! 
 Don't you believe, then, we've been vilely us'd ? 
 
 Phtfd. No wonder if you credit what he fays ? 
 I don't know what to do. [afidc. .] Here, harkye, 
 
 firrah ! 
 Deny it all again, [apart to Dorus.~\ What! can't I 
 
 beat 
 
 The truth out of you, rafcal ? have you feen 
 My brother Chasrea ? [aloud and beating him. 
 
 Dor. No, Sir ! \. cr y in g- 
 
 Ph*d. So ! I fee 
 
 He won't confefs without a beating. -This 
 
 way! [apart.] Now 
 
 He owns it-, now denies it. Afk my pardon ! [apart. 
 Dor. Befeech you, Sir, forgive me ! 
 Pbted. Get you gone. [kickin^bim. 
 
 Dor. Oh me ! oh dear ! [Exit howling. 
 
 Ph*d. afde. I had no other way 
 To come off handfomely. We're all undone. 
 D'ye think to play your tricks on me, you rafcal ? 
 [Aloud, and Exit after Dorus. 
 
 SCENE
 
 178 THE EUNUCH, 
 
 SCENE V. 
 Mancnt PYTHIAS and DO&IAS, 
 
 Pytb. As fure as I'm alive, this is a tricl^. 
 Of Parmeno. 
 
 Dori. No doubt on't. 
 
 Pytb. *Flldevife 
 
 Some means to-day to fit him for't. But now, 
 What would yog have me do ? 
 
 Dori. About the Girl ? 
 
 Pb*d. Ay, fhall I tell? or keep the matter fecret? 
 
 Dori. Troth, if you're wife, you know not what 
 
 you know, 
 
 Nor of the Eunuch, nor the ravifhment : 
 So mail you clear yourfelf of all this trouble, 
 And do a kindnefs to our miftrefs too. 
 Say nothing, but that Dorus is gone off. 
 
 Pytb. I'll do fo. 
 
 Dori. Prithee is not Chremes yonder ? 
 Thais will foon be here. 
 
 Pytb. How fo ? 
 
 Dori. Becaufe 
 When I came thence, a quarrel was abroach 
 
 rttdeviftfome means to-day, fcfr.] The revenge of Pythias on 
 Parracno isvery artfully made productive of thccataftrophe. DON. 
 
 Amongft
 
 THE EUNUC H. 179 
 
 Amongfr them. 
 
 Pytb. Carry in the jewels, Dorias ! 
 Meanwhile I'll learn of Chremes what has happen'd. 
 
 [Exit Doria$. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 Enter CHREMES tipfey. 
 
 Chrem. So! fo! I'm in for't and the wine I've 
 
 drank 
 
 Has made me reel again. Yet while I fat, 
 How fober I fuppos'd myfelf! But I 
 No fooner rofe, than neither foot, nor head, 
 Knew their own bufmefs ! 
 
 Pytb. Chremes ! 
 
 Chrem. Who's that ? Ha ! 
 
 Pythias! How much more handfome you feemnow, 
 Than you appear'd a little while ago ! 
 
 Pytb. I'm fure you feem a good deal merrier. 
 
 Chrem. I'faith 'tis an old faying, and a true one, 
 *" Ceres and Bacchus are warm friends of Venus." 
 But, pray, has Thais been here long before me ? 
 
 Pyth. Has (he yet left the Captain's ? 
 
 Chrem. Long time fince : 
 
 * Ceres and Bacchus are warm verb, fignifying that love is 
 friends of Venus,] Sine Cerere cold without good eating and 
 fcf Liber o friget ftnus, A pro- drinking, 
 
 An
 
 iSo T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 An age ago. They've had a bloody quarrel. 
 
 Pytb. Did not fhe bid you follow her ? 
 
 Cbrem. Not me : 
 Only fhe made a fign to me at parting. 
 
 Pytb. Well, wasn't that enough ? 
 
 Cbrem. No, faith ! I never 
 At all conceiv'd her meaning, till the Captain 
 Gave me the hint, and kick'd me out o'doors. 
 But here me is ! I wonder how it was 
 I overtook her ! 
 ' 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 
 ,,* THAIS. 
 
 ^r 
 
 'Thais. I am apt to think 
 The Captain will foon follow me, to take 
 The Virgin from me : Well then, let him come ! 
 But if he does but lay a finger on her, 
 We'll tear his eyes out. His impertinence, 
 And big words, while mere words, I can endure ; 
 But if he comes to action, woe be to him ! 
 
 Cbrem. Thais, I have been here fome time. 
 
 Thais. My Chremes ! 
 The very man I wanted ! Do you know 
 That You have been th' occafion of this quarrel ? 
 And that this whole affair relates to You ? 
 
 Cbrem.
 
 T H E E U N U C H. iSi 
 
 Chrem. To Me ! how fo ? 
 
 Thais. Becaufe, while I endeavour, 
 And ftudy to rellore your filler to you, 
 This and much more I've fuffer'd. 
 
 Chrem. Where's my filler ? 
 
 Thais. Within, at my houfe. 
 
 Cbrem. Ha \ [with concern. 
 
 Thais. Be not alarm'd : 
 
 She has been well brought up, and in a manner 
 Worthy herfelf and you. 
 
 Chrem. Indeed ? 
 
 Thais. 'Tis true : 
 
 And now moll freely I rellore her to you, 
 Demanding nothing of you in return. 
 
 Chrem. I feel your goodnefs, Thais, and lhall ever 
 Remain much bounden to you. 
 
 Thais. Ay, but now 
 
 Take heed, my Chremes, left you lofe your filler, 
 Ere you receive her from me ! for 'tis She, 
 Whom now the Captain comes to take by dorm. 
 r -Pythias, go, fetch the ca&et with the proofs ! * 
 
 Cbrem. D'ye fee him, Thais ? [looking out. 
 
 Pyth. Where does the cafket Hand ? 
 
 Thais. Upon the cabinet. D'ye loiter, huffy ? 
 
 [#// Pythias. 
 
 * With the proofs.] Cum children, by which they might 
 monumentis. Alluding to the be recognized, if expofed, or 
 cuftom of the ancients of attach- ftolen in their infancy. 
 
 Cbrem.
 
 .182 THE E U N U C H. 
 
 Cbrem. What force the Captain brings with him 
 
 againft you ! 
 Good heav'n ! 
 
 tfbais. Are you afraid, young gentleman ? 
 
 Cbrem. Away! who? I? afraid? No mortal lefs; 
 
 Thais. Nay, you had need be flout at prefent, Chremes. 
 
 Cbrem. What kind of man d'ye take me for? 
 
 <Tbais. Confider, 
 
 He, whom you've now to cope with, is a ftranger, 
 Lefs powerful than you, lefs known, and lefs 
 Befriended here than you ! 
 
 Cbrem. I know all that : 
 
 But why, like fools, admit, what we may Ihun ? 
 Better prevent a wrong, than afterwards 
 Revenge it, when receiv'd. Do You flep in, 
 And bolt the door, while / run to the Forum> 
 And call fome advocates to our afliftancc. [going* 
 
 'Tbais. Stay ! [holding bim. 
 
 Cbrem. 'Twill be better. 
 
 Thus. Hold ! 
 
 Cbrem. Nay, let me go ! 
 I'll foon be back. 
 
 Tbais. We do not want them, Chremes. 
 Say, only, that this maiden is your fitter, 
 And that you loft her when a child, and now 
 Know her again for your's, 
 
 Enter
 
 T H E E U N U C H. iSj 
 
 Enter PYTHIAS. 
 
 Thais to PythJ] Produce the proofs. 
 
 Pytb. Here they are. 
 
 Thais. Take them, Chremes ! If the Captain 
 Attempts to do you any violence, 
 Lead him before a magistrate. D'ye mark me ? 
 
 Chrem. I do. 
 
 Thais. Be fure now fpeak with a good courage ! 
 
 Chrem. I will. 
 
 Thais. Come, gather up your cloak. Undone! 
 My champion wants a champion for himfelf. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 Enter THRASO, GNATHO, SANGA, &c. 
 
 Thrafo. Shall I put up with an affront fo grofs, 
 So monftrous, Gnatho ? No, I'd rather die. 
 Simalio, Donax, Syrus, follow me ! 
 Firft, I will ftorm their caftle. 
 
 Gnat. Excellent! 
 
 Thra. Next carry off the Virgin. 
 
 Gnc.t. Admirable ! 
 
 Thra. Then punim Thais herfelf. 
 
 Gnat. Incomparable ! 
 
 Thra. Here, in the centre, Donax, with your club! 
 
 Do
 
 i&4 T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 Do you, Slmalio, charge on the left wing ! 
 Yon, Syrus, on the right ! Bring up the reft F 
 Where's the Centurion Sanga,* and his band 
 Of rafcal runaways ? 
 
 San. Here, Sir! 
 
 <Tkra. How now ? 
 
 Think'ft thou to combat with a diihclout, (lave ! 
 That thus thou bring'ft it here ? 
 
 Sari. Ah,' Sir ! I knew 
 The valour of the gen r ral, and his troops ; 
 And feeing this affair muft end in blood, 
 I brought a clout to 'wipe the wounds withall. 
 
 <Thra. Where are the reft ? 
 
 San. Reft ! Plague, whom d'ye mean ? 
 There's nobody, but Sannio, left at home. 
 
 fbra. Lead you the van ; [to Gnatho] and I'll 
 ... , - 
 
 bring up the rear : 
 _, . 7- 
 
 Tnence give the word to all. 
 
 ... . , . . . 
 
 Gnat. What wifdom is ! 
 
 Now he has drawn np thefe in rank and file, ' 
 ,,. . , , . , r , . . 
 
 His pole behind lecures him a retreat. 
 
 - 
 
 fhra. Juft fo his line of battle'-]- Pyrrhus form'd.' " 
 
 * "The Centurion Sanga."] The f PyrrkusC] King of Epirus, 
 Centurion was an officer, who and one of the g*eatdl'gei*eral 
 had the command of an hundred of antiquity. 
 men, commonly thought to be 
 of much the fame rank as our 
 
 Chremes
 
 THE EUNUCH. 18$ 
 
 Chremes and Thais appear above at a window. 
 
 Cbrcm. D'ye lee, my Thais, what he is about ? 
 To bar and bolt the doors was good advice. 
 
 Thais. Tut, man ! yon fool, that fcems fo mighty 
 
 brave, 
 Is a mere coward. Do not be afraid ! 
 
 Thra. What were bed ? [to Gnathcn 
 
 Gnat. Troth, I wi{h you had a fling : 
 That you from far in ambufh might attack them ! 
 They'd foon fiy then, I warrant you. 
 
 Thra. But fee ! 
 Thais appears. 
 
 Gnat. Let's charge them then ! Come on ! 
 
 Thra. Halt ! 'Tis the part of a wife general 
 To try all methods, e'er he come to arms. 
 How do you know, but Thais may obey 
 My orders without force ? 
 
 Gnat. Oh, gracious heavens ! 
 Of* what advantage is it to be wife ! 
 I ne'er approach but I go wifer from you. 
 
 Thra. Thais, firft anlwcr this ! Did you, or no, 
 When I prefented you the Virgin, promife 
 To give yourfelf fome days to me alone ? 
 
 Thais, What then ? 
 
 Thra. Is that a queftion, when you brought 
 Tour lover to affront me to my face? 
 
 Thais. What bufmefs have you with him ? 
 
 VOL. I, O Tbrtt.
 
 r86 THE E U N U C H. 
 
 Tbra. And dole off" 
 
 In company with him ? 
 
 Thais. It was my pleafure. 
 
 Thra. Therefore, reflore me Pamphila , unlcfs 
 You chufe to fee her carried off by force. 
 
 Cbrem. She reftore Pamphila to you ? Or You 
 Attempt to touch her, rafcal ? 
 
 Gnat. Ah, beware ! 
 Peace, peace, young gentleman ! 
 
 Thra. to Chrcm.'] What is't you mean H 
 Shall I not touch my own ? 
 
 Chrcm. Your own, you fcoundrel ? 
 
 Gnat. Take heed ! you know not whom you rail 
 at thus. 
 
 Ghrcm. Won't you be gone ? here, hark ye, Sir! 
 
 d'ye know 
 
 How matters ftand with you ? if you attempt 
 To raife a riot in this place to-day, 
 I'll anfwer for it, that you {hall remember 
 This place, to-day, and me, your whole life long. 
 
 Gnat. I pity you : to make fo great a man 
 Your enemy ! 
 
 Chrcm. Hence ! or I'll break your head. 
 
 'Gnat. How's that, you hang-dog ? Are you for 
 
 that fport ? 
 
 * 
 
 Thra. Who are You, fellow ? what d'ye mean ? 
 and what 
 
 Have,
 
 TH E E U N U C H. 187 
 
 Have you to do with Pamphila ? 
 
 Cbrem. I'll tell you. 
 Firft, I declare, that fhe's a free-born woma^i, 
 
 ?bra. How ? 
 
 Cbrcm. And a citizen of Athens. 
 
 Tbra. Hui ! 
 
 Cbrem. My filter. 
 
 Thra. Impudence ! 
 
 Cbrem. So, Captain, now 
 I give you warning, offer her no force f 
 Thais, I'll now to Sophrona, the Nurfe, 
 And bring her hither to infped: the proofs, 
 
 Tbra. And you prohibit me to touch my own * 
 
 Cbrem. Yes, I prohibit you.. 
 
 Gnat. D'ye hear ? he owns 
 The robbery himfelf. Isn't that fufficient ? 
 
 Tbra. And, Thais, you maintain the fame ? 
 
 Thais. Alk thofe, 
 Who care to anfwer. [Sbuts down tie window. 
 
 Manent THRASO, </GNATHO, fcfa 
 
 T'brc. What mall we do now ? 
 
 Gnat. "Why e'en go back again ! This harlot 
 
 here 
 
 Will foon be with you to requeft forgivenefs, 
 rbra. D'ye think fo ? 
 Gnat. Ay, mod certainly. I know 
 
 O 2 The
 
 i$8 T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 The ways of women. When you will, they won't. 
 And when you won't, they're dying for you. 
 
 Tbra. True. 
 
 Gnat. Shall I diiband the army ? 
 
 bra. When you will. 
 
 Gnat. *Sanga, as well becomes a brave militia, 
 Take to your houfes and fire-fides again. 
 
 Sang. My mind has been a fop i'th' pan long fince. 
 
 Gnat. Good fellow ! 
 
 Sang. To the right about there ! march ! 
 [Exit with Gnatho WThrafo at the bead of the troops. 
 
 * Senga, as well becomes, &c .] 
 Beaumont and Fletcher feem 
 to have had their thoughts on 
 this fcene in their draught of 
 the Mob-Regiment in Philafter. 
 The old Captain difembodies 
 
 his Militia much in the fame- 
 manner with Gnatho. *' Fall 
 " off again, my fweet Youths; 
 * Come, and every man trace 
 " to his houfe ngain, and hang 
 11 his pewter up." 
 
 ACT
 
 THE E U N U C H. 189 
 
 ACTV. SCENE I. 
 
 THAIS and PYTHIAS. 
 
 THAIS. 
 
 STILL, ftill, you baggage, will you fliuffle with me? 
 " I know I don't know- he's gone off 
 
 I've heard- 
 
 " I was not prefent." Be it what it may, 
 
 Can't you inform me openly ? The Virgin, 
 
 Her cloaths all torn, in fallen filence weeps. 
 
 The Eunuch's run away.--Why ? what has happen'd? 
 
 Still filent ? Won't you anfwer me ? 
 
 Pytb. Alas! 
 
 What can I anfwer you ? He was, they fay, 
 No Eunuch. 
 
 Thais. What then? 
 Pytb. Chserea. 
 Thais. Chserea ! 
 What Chorea ? 
 
 Pytb. Phaedria's younger brother. 
 Thais. How ! 
 What's that, hag ? 
 
 O 3 Pytb.
 
 190 THE E U N U C H. 
 
 Pytb. I've difcover'd it : I'm fure on't. 
 
 Thais. Why, what had Chaerea to do here ? or why 
 Was he brought hither ? 
 
 Pytb. Who can tell ? unlefs, 
 As I fuppofe, for love of Pamphila. 
 
 Thais, Alas ! I am undone ; undone, indeed, 
 If that, which you have told me now, be true. 
 li't that the Girl bemoans thus ? 
 
 Pytb. I believe fo. 
 
 Thais. How, carelcfs wretch! was that the charge 
 
 I gave you 
 At 'my departure ? 
 
 Pytb. What could / do ? She 
 Was trufted, as you bad, to him alone. 
 
 Tbais. Oh, jade, you let the wolf to keep the fheep. 
 w-Fm quite amam'd to Ve been fo poorly bubbled. 
 
 Pytb. Who comes here ? Hift ! peace, madam, I 
 
 beieech you ! 
 We're fafe : we have the very man. 
 
 [Seeing Chaerea at a diftance. 
 
 Thais. W T here is he ? 
 
 Pytb. Here, on the left-, d'ye fee him, ma'am? 
 
 Thcis. I fee him. 
 
 Pyth. Let him be fciz'd immediately ! 
 
 Thais. And what 
 Can we do to him, fool ? 
 
 Pyth. Do to him, fay you ? 
 
 See,
 
 THE E U N U C II. 
 
 See, -what a fancy face the rogue has got ! 
 Ha'nthe? and then how fettled an afluran ;: 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Enter CHOREA. 
 
 Char. *At Antipho's, as if for fpite, there were 
 His father and his mother both at home, 
 So that I could by no means enter, but 
 They muft have feen me. Meanwhile, as I flood 
 Before the door, came by an old acquaintance, 
 At fight of whom, I flew, with all my fpeed, 
 Into a narrow unfrequented alley -, 
 And thence into another, and another, 
 Frighten'd and flurried as I fcampered on, 
 Left any one mould knew me in this habit. 
 But is that Thais ? She. I'm all aground. 
 What fhall I do ? Pfhaw ! what have I to care ? 
 "What can Ihe do to me ? 
 
 ybais. Let's up to him. 
 
 Oh, Dorus ! Good fir, welcome ! And fo, firrah, 
 You ran away. 
 
 * At dntipht?ii &?c.] Chserea the fequel of the fable made it 
 
 afligns very natural reafons for abfolutelyneceflary that Chasrea 
 
 not having changed his drefs : fhould appear again beforeThajs 
 
 in which it is worth while to in the habit which he wore 
 
 obferve the art of Terence, fince while in the houfe. DACIER. 
 
 O 4 Ck*r.
 
 T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 Yes, madam ! 
 
 Thais. And you think 
 It was a clever trick, I warrant you ? 
 
 Char. No, madam! 
 
 Thais. Can you believe that you mail go unpuniih'd ? 
 
 Ch^er. Forgive me this one fault ! If I commit 
 Another, kill me ! 
 
 Thais. Do you dread my cruelty ? 
 
 Ch^er. . No, ma'am ! 
 
 
 
 Thais. What then ? 
 
 Char. I only was afraid, 
 She might accufe me to you. [printing to Pythias, 
 
 Thais. Of what crime ? 
 
 Cheer. A little matter. 
 
 Pyth. Rogue ! a little matter ? 
 Is it fo little, think you, to abufe 
 A virgin, and a citizen ? 
 
 Char. I thought 
 She was my fellow-fervant. 
 
 Pyth. Fellow-fervant ! 
 I can fcarce hold from flying at his hair. 
 Mqnftrous ! he's come to make his Jport of us, 
 
 Thais. Away ! you rave. 
 jyjk_Not I. If I had done't, 
 I mould have ftill been in the monfter's debt ; 
 Particularly, as he owns himfelf 
 Your fervant. 
 
 fytb. Well no more of this. Oh, Chasrea, 
 
 You've
 
 THE EUNUCH. 193 
 
 You've done a deed unworthy of yourfelf : 
 
 For granting, 1 perhaps might well deferve 
 
 This injury, it was not honourable 
 
 In You to do it. As I live, I know not 
 
 What counlel to perfue about this girl ; 
 
 You've fo deftroy'd my meafures, that I cannot 
 
 Reftore her, without blufhing, to her friends, 
 
 Nor fo deliver her, as I propos'd, 
 
 To make them thank me for my kindnefs, Chserea, 
 
 Char. Henceforth, I hope, eternal peace mall be 
 Betwixt us, Thais ! Oft from things like thefe, 
 And bad beginnings, warmed friendfhips rife. 
 What if fome God hath order'd this ? 
 
 Thais. Indeed, 
 I'll fo interpret it, and wifh it fo. 
 
 Cbar. I prithee do ! and be affur*fl of this, 
 That nought I did in fcorn, but all in love. 
 
 3*bais. I do believe it -, and, on that account, 
 JVIore readily forgive you : for oh, Chasrea, 
 I am not form'd of an ungentle nature, 
 JS T or am I now to learn the pow'r of love. 
 
 Char. Now, Thais, by my life, I love Thee too. 
 
 Pyth. Then, by my troth, you muft take care of 
 him. 
 
 Char. I durft not 
 
 Pytb. I don't mind a word you fay, 
 
 Tfyats. Have done !
 
 i 9 4 THE E U N U C H. 
 
 Char. But now, in this one circumflance > 
 Let me befeech you to aflift me, Thais ! 
 I truft myfelf intirely to your care : 
 Invoke you, as my patronefs j implore you. 
 Perdition feize me, but I'll marry her ! 
 
 Thais. But if your father 
 
 Cb*r. What of Him ? I know 
 He'll foon confent, provided it appears 
 That {he's a citizen. \^ 
 
 'Thais. If you'll but wait 
 A little while, her brother will be here : 
 He's gone to fetch the nurfe, that brought her up -, 
 And You mail witnefs the difcovery. 
 
 Ch<er. I will remain then. 
 
 Thais. But, in the mean time, 
 Had you not rather wait within, than here 
 Before the door ? 
 
 Char. Much rather. 
 
 Pytb. What the plague 
 Are you about ? 
 
 Thais. What now ? 
 
 Pyth. What now, indeed ? . 
 AVill you let Him within your doors again ? 
 
 Thais. Why not ? 
 
 Pyth. Remember that I prophecy, 
 He'll make fome frefh difturbance. 
 
 Tcais. Prithee, peace ! 
 
 Pytb,
 
 THE EUNUCH. 195 
 
 Pyth. It feems, you have not had fufficient proof 
 Of his aflurance. 
 
 Cb<er. I'll do no harm, Pythias ! 
 
 Pyth. I'll not believe it, till I fee it, Chserea. 
 
 Char. But you mall keep me, Pythias ! 
 
 Pyth. No, not I. 
 
 For, by my troth, I would truft nothing with you, 
 Neither to keep, nor be kept by you. Hence ! 
 Away ! 
 
 Thais. Oh brave ! the brother's here, [looking out* 
 
 Ch<er. Confufion ! 
 
 Let's in, dear Thais ! I'd not have him fee me 
 Here in this drefs. 
 
 Thais. Why fo ? Arc you afham'd ? 
 
 Cb<er. I am indeed. 
 
 Pyth. Indeed ! afham'd ! oh dear ! 
 Think of the girl ! 
 
 Thais. Go in ! I'll follow you. 
 * Pythias, do you flay here to bring in Chremes. 
 
 [Exeunt Thais and Chorea. 
 
 * Pythias, do you flay lere.~] inducing him to divulge the 
 
 Pythias is left on the ftage, in whole affair to Chaerea's father, 
 
 order tobringonthecataftrophe, Dos ATUS. 
 by frightening Parmeno, and 
 
 SCENE
 
 1^6 T H E E U N U C H, 
 
 SCENE III. 
 PYTHIAS, CHREMES, SOPHRONA, 
 
 Pytb. What can I think of ? what can I devife ? 
 Some trick now to be even with that rogue 
 Who palm'd this young fpark on us. 
 
 Chrem. leading the nurfeJ] Nay but ftir 
 Your flumps a little fafter, nurfe ! 
 
 Soph. I come. 
 
 Chrem. Ay, marry , but you don't come on a jot. 
 
 Pytb. Well! have you fhewn the tokens to the nurfe-? 
 
 Chrem. I have. 
 
 Pyth. And pray what fays me ? Did fhe know them ? 
 
 Cbrem. At firft fight. 
 
 Pyth. Oh brave news ! I'm glad to hear it j 
 For I've a kindnefs for the Girl. Go in ; 
 My miftrefs Is impatient for your coming. 
 
 [Exeunt Chremes and Sophrona, 
 See, yonder's my good mailer Parmeno, 
 Marching this way: How nnconcern'd, forfooth, 
 He ftalks along! But I've devis'd, I hope, 
 The means to vex him forely. Firft I'll in. 
 To know the truth of this difcovery, 
 And- then return to terrify this rafcal. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE
 
 T H E E U N U C H. 197 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 P A R M E N O. 
 
 Par. I'm come to fee what Chasrea has been doing : 
 Who, if he has but manag'd matters well, 
 Good heav'ns, how much, and what fincere applaufe 
 Shall Parmeno acquire! For not to mention, 
 In an intrigue fo difficult as this, 
 Of fo much probable expence at leaft, 
 Since with a griping harlot he'd have bargain'd, 
 That I've procur'd for him the girl he lov'd, 
 Without coft, charge, or trouble ; t'other point,. 
 That, that I hold my mafler-piece, there think 
 I've gain'd the prize, in mewing a young fpark 
 The difpofitions and the ways of harlots ; 
 Which having early learnt, he'll ever fhun. 
 
 {Enter Pythias behind, 
 
 When they're abroad, forfooth, there's none fo clean. 
 Nothing fo trim, fo elegant, as they ; 
 Nor, when they fup with a gallant, fo nice ! 
 To fee thefe very creatures' gluttony, 
 Filth, poverty, . and meannefs, when at home v 
 So eager after food, that they devour 
 From yefterday's ftale broth the coarfe black breads- 
 All this to know is fafety to young men. 
 
 SCENE
 
 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 PYTHIAS, PAR MEMO. 
 
 Pytb. leRnd.] 'Faith, firrah, I'll be handfomely 
 
 reveng'd 
 
 For all you've done and faid. You fhall not boaft 
 Your tricks on us without due punimmeht. 
 
 [afoua, coming forward* 
 
 Oh heav'ns ! oh dreadful deed ! oh haplefs youth ! 
 Oh wicked Parmeno, that brought him here ! 
 Par. What now ? 
 
 Pytk. It mov'd me fo, I could not bear 
 To fee it : therefore I flew out o'doors. 
 What an example will they make of him ! 
 
 Par. Oh Jupiter! what tumult can this be ? 
 Am I undone, or no ? I'll e'en enquire. 
 Pythias, [going up] What now ? what is't you rave 
 
 about ? 
 Who's to be made this terrible example ? 
 
 Pyth. Who ? moft audacious mohftef ! while you 
 
 meant 
 
 To play your tricks on Us, you have deftroy'd 
 The youth, whom you brought hither for the Eunuch. 
 Par. Howfo? and what has happen'd? Prithee 
 tell me !
 
 THEEUNUGtt. 199 
 
 Pytb. Tell you ? D'ye know the virgin, that was 
 
 fent 
 
 To-day to Thais, is a citizen ? 
 Her brother too a man of the firft rank ? 
 
 Par. I did not know it ? 
 
 Pytb. Ay, but fo it feems. 
 The poor young fpark abus'd the girl -, a thing 
 No fooner known, than he, the furious brother 
 
 Par. Did what ? 
 
 Pytb. Firft bound him hand and foot 
 
 Par. How ! bound him ! 
 
 Pytb. And now, though Thais begg'd him not to 
 do it 
 
 Par. How! whatf 
 
 Pytb. Moreover threatens, he will ierve him 
 After the manner of adulterers -, 
 A thing I ne'er faw done, and ne'er defire. 
 
 Par. How durfl he offer at an act (b monflrous ? 
 
 Pytb. And why fo monflrous ? 
 
 Par. Is it not moft monftrous ? 
 Who ever faw a young man feiz'd by force, 
 And puniuVd for adultery in a brothel ? 
 
 Pytb. I don't know. 
 
 Pay. Ay, but you muft all know this. 
 I tell you, and foretell you, that young fpark 
 Is my old mailer's fon. 
 
 Pytb. Indeed ! is he ? 
 4
 
 200 THE E UN U C I-L 
 
 Par. And let not Thais fuffer any one 
 To do him any violence ! But why 
 Don't I rum in myfelf ? 
 
 Pytk. Ah ! have a care 
 What you're about j left you do him no good > 
 And hurt yourfelf : for they imagine You, 
 Whatever has been done, the caufe of all. 
 
 Par. What mall I do then ? what refolve ? Confufion ! 
 Oh! yonder's my old matter, juft return'd 
 To town. Shall I tell Him of it, or no ? 
 I'll tell him, tho* I am well convinc'd, the blame 
 Will light on me, and heavily : And yet 
 It mult be done to help poor Chserea. 
 
 Pytb. Right. 
 
 I'll in again ; and You, in the mean while, 
 Tell the old gentleman the whole affair. [#//, 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 * Enter LACHES. 
 
 Lades. I've this convenience from my neighb'ring 
 
 villa ; 
 I'm never tir'd of country, or of town. 
 
 * Enter Laches.'] Here tTie that the fudden turn of ther 
 
 Poet introduces Laches, as he flate of mind might be more 
 
 did Parmeno juft before, in a entertaining to the fpc&ators. 
 
 (late of perfcft tranquillity j DONATVS. 
 
 /; For
 
 THE EUNUCH. 201 
 
 For as difguft comes on, I change my place. 
 But is not that our Parmeno ? 'Tis he. 
 Parmeno, who is it you're waiting for 
 Before that door ? 
 
 Par. Who's that ? oh, Sir ! you're welcome : 
 I'm glad to fee you fafe return'd to town. 
 
 Laches. Whom do you wait for ? 
 
 Par. I'm undone : my tongue 
 Cleaves to my mouth thro' fear. [apart. 
 
 Laches. Ha ! what's the matter ? 
 Why do you tremble fo ? Is all right ? Speak ! 
 
 Par. Firfl be perfuaded, Sir, for that's the cafe, 
 Whatever has befallen, has not befallen 
 Through any fault of mine. 
 
 Laches. What is't ? 
 
 Par. That's true. 
 
 Your pardon, Sir, I fhould have told that firfL 
 Phaedria lately bought a certain Eunuch 
 By way of prefent to this gentlewoman. 
 
 Laches. What gentlewoman, firrah ? 
 
 Par. Madam Thais. 
 
 Laches. Bought ? I'm undone ! at what price ? 
 
 par. Twenty Mina?. 
 
 Inches. I'm ruin'd. 
 
 Par. And then Chserea's falfn in K'/vc 
 With a young mufick-girl. 
 
 Lacbes. How! what-! in love ! 
 
 Vii*.. I. P Knows
 
 202 T H E E U N U C H*. 
 
 Knows He, already, what a harlot is ? 
 
 Is He in town ? misfortune on misfortune ! 
 
 Par. Nay, Sir ! don't look on me ! it was nor 
 
 done 
 By my advice. 
 
 Laches. Leave prating of yourfelf. 
 As for you, rafcal, if I live But firft, 
 Whatever has befallen, tell me, quick ! 
 
 Par. Chorea was carried thither for the Eunuch : 
 
 Laches. He for the Eunuch ? 
 
 Par. Yes : fince when, it feems, 
 They've feiz'd and bound him for a ravifher. 
 
 Laches. Confufibn ? 
 
 Par. See the impudence of harlots T 
 
 Laches. Is there aught elfe of evil or misfortune, 
 You have not told me yet ? 
 
 Par. You know the whole. 
 
 Laches. Then why do I delay to rum in on them ? 
 
 [Exit* 
 
 * Exit.] The terror of La- in the fcene with Thai* at the 
 ches accounts for bis fudden opening of this aft, where he 
 confent to the union of Chtcrea fays, he is confident of obtain- 
 and Pamphila: for though he ing his father's confent, pro- 
 could not fettle the matter en- vided Pamphila proves to be a 
 t'trely with credit, yet he was citizen ; and indeed the match 
 glad to find his fon had made between them is rather a repa- 
 an unequal match, rather than ration of an injury done to her, 
 endangered hisJife. DON AT us. than a degradation of him- 
 
 I ihink Chrerea apologizes felf. 
 fi-ll better fofr this arrangement 
 
 ' 4 -
 
 THE EUNUC H. 203 
 
 Par. There is no doubt but I {hall fmart for this. 
 But fmce I was oblig'd to't, I rejoice 
 That I fhall make thefe ftrumpets fufFer too : 
 For our old gentleman has long defir'd * 
 Some caufe to punilh them ; and now he has it. 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 Enter PYTHIAS* PARMENO at a dijlance. 
 
 . I fwear, that I was never better pleas'd, 
 Than when I faw th' old man come bkmd'ring in. 
 I had the j eft alone ; for I alone 
 Knew what he was afraid of. 
 
 Par. Hey ! what now ? 
 
 Pytb. I'm now come forth t'encounter Parmeno, 
 Where is he ? 
 
 Par. She feeks me. 
 
 Pytb. Oh, there he is. 
 I'll go up to him. 
 
 Par. Well, fool, what's the matter ? [Pyth. laughs* 
 What wou'd you ? what d'ye laugh at ? Hey ! what 
 ftill ? 
 
 Pytb. Oh, I mail die: I'm horribly fatigu'd 
 
 * ffas long defer* d fome caufe ment of Laches againft Thais, 
 to punijh them*] Donatus tells us on account of her having cor- 
 that Menander was more ex- rupted Phsedria. 
 plicit concerning the refent- 
 
 P a With
 
 20 4 T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 With laughing at you. [laughing heartily. 
 
 Par. For what caufe ? 
 
 Pyth. What caufe ? [laughing. 
 
 I ne'er faw, ne'er fhall lee, a greater fool. 
 Oh, 'tis impofiible to tell what fport * 
 You've made within. I fwear, I always thought 
 That you had been a ftirewd, fliarp, cunning fellow. 
 What! to believe directly what I told you ! 
 f Or was not you contented with the crime 
 
 * What fport you've made 
 iuithmJ\ There is a great error, 
 in regard to the Unity of Time, 
 in Terence's Eunuch, when 
 Laches, the old Man, enters by 
 miitake into the houfe of Thais, 
 where betwixt his Exit, and 
 the Entrance of Pythias, who 
 comes to give ample relation of 
 the diforders he has raifed 
 within, Parmeno, who was left 
 upon the Itage, has not above five 
 lines to fpeak. C'tft bisn employer 
 un temps Jt court. 
 D K Y D E N 's E/ay of Dramatick 
 
 Poefie. 
 
 Befides the abfurdity here 
 taken notice of by Dryden, in 
 regard to Time, there is alfo 
 another inconv<.-iicnce, in the 
 prefent inftance, arifing from 
 too Itrift an adherence to the 
 Unity of Place. What a figure 
 would this narration of Pythias 
 have made, if thrown into ac- 
 tion ! The circumstances are in 
 
 themfelves as truly corajck as 
 thofe of any fcene in this excel- 
 lent play ; and it would be we!! 
 worth while to follow Laches 
 into the houfe, to be prefent at 
 the ridiculous diftrefs and con- 
 fufion which his prefence muft 
 cccafion. 
 
 There is, however, much more 
 to be commended, and even 
 imitated, than cenfured, in the 
 conftru&ion of this laft aft. 
 All that pafles between Pythias, 
 Parmeno, and Laches, is truly 
 admirable. 
 
 f Wus not you contented. .] An 
 panitebnt. This, as Patrick 
 obferves, is not to be explained 
 did you repent ? But was not you 
 (ontenttdf Donatus gives the 
 fame interpretation, and con- 
 firms it by citations from our 
 Author and Plautus, as well as 
 Patrick by quotations from Ci- 
 
 You
 
 THE E U N U C II. 205 
 
 You urg'd the youth to perpetrate, unleis 
 You afterwards betray'd him to his father ? 
 How d'ye fuppofe he felt, when old Grey-beard 
 Surpriz'd him in that habit? What! you find 
 That you're undone. [laughing heartily. 
 
 Par. What's this, Impertinence ? 
 Was it a lie, you told me ? D'ye laugh ftill ? 
 Is't fuch a jeft to make fools of us, hag ? 
 
 Pyth. Delightful ! [laughing. 
 
 Per. If you don't pay dearly for it ! 
 
 Pyth. Perhaps fo. [laughing. 
 
 Par. I'll return it. 
 
 Pyth. Oh, no doubt on't. [laughing. 
 
 But what you threaten Parmeno, is diftant : 
 You'll be truls'd up to-day j who firft draw in 
 A raw young lad to fin, and then betray him. 
 They'll both conipire to make you an example. 
 
 [laughing. 
 
 Par. I'm done for. 
 
 Pyth. Take this, flave, as a reward 
 For the fine gift you fent us ; fo, farewell ! 
 
 [Exit Pythias. 
 
 Par. I've been a fool indeed ; and like a rat, 
 Betray 'd myftlf to-day by my own fqueaking. 
 
 SCENE
 
 206 
 
 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 * Enter THRASO, GNATHO, [Parmcno lehind. 
 
 Gnat. What now ? with what hope, or defign, ad- 
 vance we ? 
 What's your intention, Thrafo ? 
 
 I'bra. My intention ? 
 To Thais to furrender at discretion, 
 
 Gnat. How fay you ? 
 
 * Enter Thrafo and Gnato.] 
 With the entrance of Laches 
 into the houfe of Thais, and in 
 confequence of it, his confent 
 to the marriage of Chxrea with 
 Pamphila, the Fable of the Eu- 
 nuch is certainly concluded : 
 and all that follows, like the 
 Tall fcene of the Andrian, is 
 bat the lame completion of an 
 epifode, limping after the main 
 aftion. In the four firft adls 
 the adventures of Thrafo are fo 
 artfully interwoven with the 
 r.rher bufinefs of the play, that 
 they are fairly blended and in- 
 corporated with the fable of the 
 F.unuch : but here we perceive, 
 that though our Author has got 
 rid of one of Menander's pieces, 
 the other, the Colax, ftill hangs 
 heavy on his hand?. Were an 
 author to farm his play on 
 
 twepty different pieces, if he 
 could melt them all down into 
 one adlion, there would be no 
 impropriety : but if he borrows 
 only from Two, whenever the 
 epifode ceafes to al as one of 
 the neceflary fprings of the main 
 action, it becomes redundant j 
 and the Unity of the A&ion 
 (perhaps the only Unity, which 
 ought never to be violated) is 
 deftroyed. Thrafo, fays Do- 
 natus, is brought back again, 
 in order to be admitted to fofne 
 fhare in the good graces of 
 Thais, that he may not be made 
 unhappy at the end of the play : 
 but furely it is an eflemial part 
 of the Poetical Juftice of Co- 
 medy to expole coxcombs to ri- 
 dicuie, and to punifh them, 
 though without nny mocking fc- 
 vetity, for their Tollies. 
 
 Tbra,
 
 T H E E U N U C H. 207 
 
 Tbra. Even fo. Why Ihould not I, 
 As well as Hercules to Omphale ? 
 
 Gnat. A fit example. Oh, that I could fee her 
 * Combing your empty noddle with her flipper! 
 
 But her door opens. 
 
 Thrafo. Death ! what mifchief now ? 
 I ne'er fo much as faw this face before. 
 Why burfts he forth with fuch alacrity ? 
 
 SCENE IX. 
 
 Enter C H IE R E A at another part of the Stage. 
 
 Cbw. Lives there, my countrymen, a happier man 
 To-day than I? Not one. For on my head 
 The Gods have plainly emptied all their ftore, 
 On whom they've pour'd a flood of blifs at once. 
 
 Par. What's he fo pleas'd at ? 
 
 f Ccmling your empty noddle Omphale was a queen of 
 
 with her flipper,] Utinam tiki Lydia, with whom Hercules 
 
 commitigari videam fandalio ca- falling in love, fhe Jmpofed on 
 
 put. It is fomewhat extraordi- him the tafk of fpinning wool; 
 
 nary that Donatus, who has an- and Gnatho, according to Ma- 
 
 ali/.ed almoft every word of our dam Dacier, here alludes to 
 
 author's text,(hould omit taking fome old comedy on this fub- 
 
 notice of the irony conveyed by jeft, in which the hero was re- 
 
 the word commit igari t which in prefented with a diftaff by the 
 
 Ainfworth's Dictionary is well fide of his miftrefs, who broke 
 
 explained by demulctri. his head with her Hipper. 
 
 P 4 Ct*r.
 
 ftoS T H E E U N U C H. 
 
 Ck*r. feting 'bim.~] Oh my Parmeno ! 
 Inventor, undertaker) perfecter 
 Of all my plcafures, know*ft'thou my good fortunes? 
 Know'ft thou my Pamphila's a citizen ? 
 
 Par. I've heard fo. 
 
 Ch^r. Know'ft thou, flie's betroth'd mywlfe ? 
 
 Par. Good news, by heaven ! 
 
 Gnat. Hear you, what he fays ? [to Thrafo. 
 
 Cb*r. Then I rejoice, my brother Phzdria's love 
 Is quietly fecur'd to him for ever : 
 We'ie now one family : and Thais lias 
 Found favour with my father, and refign'd 
 Heffelf to Us for patronage and care. 
 
 Par. She's then entirely Phc^dria's ? 
 
 Cb<ei~. Ay entirely. 
 . Par. Another caufe of joy : the Captain routed ! 
 
 Char. See, Parmeno, my brother (wherefoc'cr 
 1 le be) knew this, as ibbn as poffible ! 
 
 far. I'll ice if he's at home. [Exit. 
 
 T'krafo. Hail any doubt, 
 But I'm entirely ruin'u, Gnatho r 
 
 Gnat. None. 
 
 . What (hall I mention firft? whom praife the 
 
 Him that advis'd this a&ion ? or myfelf 
 That durfl to undertake it ? or extol 
 
 Fortune,
 
 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 Fortune, the governefs of all, who deign'd, 
 
 Events fo many, of fuch moment too, 
 
 So happily to clofe within one day ? 
 
 Or mail I praife my father's frank good-humour, 
 
 And gay feftivity ? Oh, Jupiter, 
 
 Make but thefe bleflings permanent ! 
 
 SCENE X. 
 
 Enter PH^EDRIA. 
 
 Pb<ed. Good heavens! 
 
 What wond'rous things has Parmenojuft told me! 
 But where's my brother ? 
 
 Char. Here. 
 
 Pb*d. I'm quite tranfported. 
 
 Cb<er. I dare believe you are-, and truft me, 
 
 brother, 
 
 None can be worthier of your love than Thais : 
 Our family are all much bounden to her. 
 
 Pbxd. So ! you'd need fmg her praife to me ! 
 
 'Tbrafo. Confufion ! 
 
 As my hope dies, my paflion gathers ilrength. 
 Gnatho, your help! my only hope's in you. 
 
 Gnat. What would you have me do ? 
 
 Tbrafo. Accomplifh this , 
 By pray'r, by purchafe, that I ftill may have 
 
 Some
 
 sio THE E U N U C H, 
 
 Some little mare in Thais. 
 
 Gnat. A hard talk ! 
 
 'Thrafo. Do but incline to do't, you can, I know, 
 Effect it, and demand whatever gift, . 
 Whate'er reward you pleafe, it fhall be your's. 
 
 Gnat. Indeed ? 
 
 Thrafo. Indeed. 
 
 Gnat. If I accomplilh this, 
 I claim, that you agree to throw yoyr doors, 
 Prefent or ablent, always open to me ; 
 A welcome uninvited gueft for ever. 
 
 Thrafo. I pawn my honour as the pledge. 
 
 Gnat. I'll try. 
 
 Ph<ed. What voice is that? Oh, Thrafo F 
 
 Thrafo. Gentlemen, 
 Good day ! 
 
 Ph<ed. Perhaps you're not acquainted yet, 
 With what has happen'd here ? 
 
 Thrafo. I am. 
 
 Pb*d. Why then 
 Do I behold you in thefe territories ? 
 
 Thrafo. Depending on 
 
 Ph<ed. Depend on nought but this ! 
 Captain, I give you warning, if, henceforth, 
 I ever find you in this ftreet, although 
 You tell me, " 7 was looking fcr another , 
 " 7 was but pajfing tkrwgh? exped no quarter. 
 
 Gnat.
 
 THEEUNUCH. 
 
 Gnat. Oh fie ! that is not handfome. 
 
 Pb*d. I have faid it. 
 
 Gnat. You cannot be fo rude.' 
 
 Pbxd. It (ball be fo. 
 
 G*/. Firft grant me a fliort hearing : if you like 
 "What I propofe, agree tp't. 
 
 Ph<ed. Let us hear ! 
 
 Gnat. Do you retire a moment, Thrafo ! [Thrafo 
 
 retires.'] Firft 
 
 I muft befeech you both, moft firmly think. 
 That I, whate'er I do in this affair, 
 For my own fake I do it : But if tfcat 
 Likewife advantage You, not to agree 
 In you were folly. 
 
 Pb*d. What are your propofals ? 
 
 Gnat. I think, 'twere not imprudent to admit 
 The Captain, as your rival. 
 
 Pb*d. How! 
 Admit him, fay you ? 
 
 Gnat. Nay reflect a little. 
 Phasdria, you live at a high rate with Thais, 
 Revel, and feaft, and flick at no expence. 
 Yet what you give's but little, and you know 
 'Tis needful Thais mould receive much more. 
 Now to fupply your love without your coft, 
 A fitter perfon, one more form'd, can't be 
 Than Thrafo is : Firft, he has wherewithal 
 
 To
 
 -ife T H E U N U C H. 
 
 To give, and gives moft largely : A fool too, 
 A dolt, a block, that fnores out night and day - t 
 Nor can you fear fhe'll e'er grow fond of him , 
 And you may drive him out whene'er you pleafe. 
 
 Pb*d. What mail we do ? [to Chserea. 
 
 Gnat. Moreover this i the which 
 I hold no trifle, no man entertains 
 More nobly or more freely. 
 
 Plxed. I begin 
 To think we've need of fuch a fool. , 
 
 Cb<er. And I. 
 
 Gnat. Well judg'd ! and let me beg one favour more j 
 Admit me into your fraternity ! 
 I've roll'd this ftone too long. * 
 
 Ph*d. We do admit you. 
 
 Ch<sr. With all our hearts. 
 
 Gnat. And you, firs, in return, 
 f Shall pledge me in the Captain ; tat him -, drink 
 
 him : 
 And laugh at him, 
 
 Cb<er. A bargain ! 
 
 Pb*d. J'Tis his due. 
 
 * Rolfd tbu Jlene.] Plcafant who difcourfes in convivial 
 allufion to the fable ofSifyphus. terms. DONATUS. 
 
 t 'Til bis due."} I cannot 
 think that this p]ay, excellent 
 as it is in almoil all other re- 
 
 DONATUS. 
 
 f Shall pledge me in the Cap- 
 tain, fcfr.] Facetioufly faid in 
 
 the chara&er of the Parafite, fpedb, concludes confiftently 
 
 - wirb
 
 THE EUNUCH. 
 
 213 
 
 Gnat. Thrafo, whene'er you pleafe, come forward ! 
 
 fbrtfo. Well ! 
 How ftands the cafe ? 
 
 Gnat. Alas ! they knew you not : 
 But when I drew your character, and prais'd 
 Your worth, according to your deeds and virtues, 
 I gain'd my point. 
 
 Thrafo. 'Tis well : I'm much oblig'd. 
 I ne'er was any where, in all my life, 
 But all folks lov'd me mod exceedingly. 
 
 Gnat. There ! Did not I allure you, gentlemen, 
 That he had all the Attick Elegance ? 
 
 Pb*d. He is the very character you drew. 
 
 Gnat. Retire then. Ye, [to the audience] farewell, 
 and clap your hands ! 
 
 with the manners of Gentlemen : 
 there is a meannefs in Phredria 
 and Chzerea confenting to take 
 Thrafo into their focicty with a 
 view of fleecing him, which the 
 Poet ftiould have avoided. 
 COOKE. 
 
 The content of Laches to 
 the continuance of his Son's 
 connection with Thais is alfo fo 
 repugnant' to modern manners, 
 that Fontaine found himfelf 
 obliged to change that circum- 
 flance in his imitation of this 
 Comedy. 
 
 THE
 
 Self Tormentor.
 
 T II E 
 
 SELF-TORMENTOR.
 
 TO THE HONOURABLE 
 
 HARRY PULTENEY, 
 
 General of His Majefty's For jes, 
 
 THE FOLLOWING COMEDY, 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM TERENCE, 
 
 IS HUMBLY INSCRIBED, 
 
 BY HIS MOST OBLIGED 
 AND OBEDIENT HUMBLE SERVANT, 
 
 GEORGE COL MAN. 
 VOL. 1. Q
 
 PERSONS. 
 
 PROLOGUE, 
 
 MENEDEMUS, 
 
 C H R E M E S, 
 
 C L I N I A, 
 
 C L I T I P H O, 
 
 S Y R U S, 
 
 D R O M O, 
 
 SO STRATA, 
 A N T I P H I L A, 
 B A C C H I S, 
 
 NURSE, 
 
 P H R Y G I ^andotherfervants Oj Bacchis, 
 
 S C E N E, a Village near ATHENS.
 
 THE 
 
 S E L F-T O R M E N T O R, 
 
 Adled at the MEGALESIAN GAMES. 
 
 L. Cornelius Lehtulus, and L. Valerius Flaccus, 
 Curule ^diles : Principal Actors, L. Ambivius 
 Turpio and L. Attilius Praeneflinus : The Mufick 
 competed by Flaccus, Freedman to Claudius : Taken 
 from the Greek of Menander : Acted the firft 
 time with unequal flutes, afterwards with two right- 
 handed ones : It was acted a third time. Publiihed, 
 M. Juvcntius, and M. Sempronius, Confuls *. 
 
 * Juvtntius andSemprcnius, Confuls.'] That is, in the year of 
 Rome 590, and 163 years before Chriil.
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 LEST any cf you wonder, why the Bard 
 To an old actor hath afligned the part 
 *Suftain'd of old by young performers ; fThat 
 I'll firft explain: then fay what brings me here. 
 To-day, a whole play, wholly from the Greek, 
 We mean to reprefent : The Self-Tormentor : 
 Wrought from a fingle to a double plot. || 
 
 * Suftain'd of old by young per- 
 formen.] It appears from this 
 paflage that the Prologue was 
 ufmlly fpoken by young men. 
 DACIER. 
 
 J- That rilfirjl explain : then 
 fay tvbat brings me here. Te- 
 rence has been accufed by fome 
 criticks of being worfe than 
 his word here ; for, fay they, 
 he does oot firft explain why he 
 has chofen an old performer. 
 But this accufation is unjuft, 
 for it is the firft thing which he 
 does : what he fays before is 
 merely to make thepiece known, 
 which bufinefs he difpatches in 
 two words, and that too in a 
 parenthefis. DACIER. 
 
 This paflage is alfo x-indica- 
 tcd by Scaliger in his Pocticks, 
 chap. 3. book 6. 
 
 t The Self -Torment or.} The 
 Latin title of this play, Heau- 
 tontimoramenos, is of Greek 
 
 derivation, being a compound 
 of two words in that language, 
 taJ.ov rppiifjuiu, litej-ally fig- 
 nifying a Self-Tormentor. 
 
 j| Wrought from a Jingle to a, 
 double plot,] Duplex qu& ex ar- 
 gunento fafla eft Jimplici. This 
 paflage has greatly perplexed 
 the Commentators. Julius Scali- 
 ger was of opinion that Terence 
 called this Comedy Duplex* 
 double, becaufe it was a&ed at 
 two different times : the two 
 firji Aftt at the clofe of the even- 
 ing, and the remaining three 
 on the following morning; and 
 that it therefore ferved as two 
 diftinfl pieces. But this con- 
 jedure is not admiffible : Te- 
 rence only meant to fay that he 
 had doubled the characters; in- 
 ftead of one old man, one young 
 gallant, one mlftrej}, as in Me- 
 nander, he had two old men, &c. 
 he therefore adds very properly,
 
 222 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Now therefore that our Comedy is new, * 
 And what it is, Fvefhewn: who wrote it too, 
 And whofe in Greek it is, were I not fure 
 jMoft of you knew already, would I tell. 
 But, v/herefore I have ta'en this part upon me, 
 In brief I will deliver : for the Bard 
 Has fent me here as Pleader, not as Prologue : 
 You he declares his Judges, me his Counfcl : 
 And yet as Counfel nothing can I fpeak 
 More than the Author teaches me to fay, 
 Who wrote th* oration which I now recite. 
 
 As to reports, which envious men have fpread, 
 That he has ranfack'd many Grecian plays, 
 While he compofes fome few Latin ones, 
 
 zcvaff! ej/e oftendl t That our Co- 
 medy is NEW, which certainly 
 could not have been implied, 
 had the chara&ers been the fame 
 in the Greek poet. DACIER. 
 
 * That our Comedy is new, 
 &c.] Terence pretends, that 
 having doubled the fubjecl of 
 the Self Tormentor, his piece 
 is new. I allow it ; but whether 
 it is better on that account, is 
 quite another queftion. Di- 
 PEROT. 
 
 It is impoifible not to regret 
 that there are not above ten 
 Jinesof the Self-Tormentor pre- 
 ferved among the Fragments of 
 IHenander. We are fo deeply 
 inferelied by what we fee of 
 that uhsra&ei in Terence, that 
 
 one cannot but be curious to en- 
 quire in what manner theGreek 
 Poet fuftrfined it through five 
 afts. The Roman Author, 
 though he has adopted the title 
 of the Greek Play, has fo al- 
 tered the fable, that Menede. 
 mus is foon thrown into the 
 back-ground, and Chremes is 
 brought forward as the princi- 
 pal objefl : or, to vary the al- 
 lufion a little, the Menedemus 
 of Terence feems to be a draw. 
 ing in miniature copied from a 
 full length, as large as the life, 
 by Menander. 
 
 f Me/f of you know already.] 
 
 This is a remarkable proof how 
 
 careful the Romans were in the 
 
 ftudy of the Greek Poets. S. 
 
 That
 
 PROLOGUE, 223 
 
 That he denies not, he has done; nor does 
 
 Repent he did it; means to do it Hill; 
 
 Safe in the warrant and authority 
 
 Of greater bards, who did long fmce the fame. 
 
 Then for the charge, that his Arch-Enemy* 
 
 Malicioufly reproaches him withal, 
 
 That he but lately hath applied himfelf 
 
 fTo mufick, with the genius of his friends, 
 
 Rather than natural talents, fraught; how true, 
 
 Your judgment, your opinion, muft decide. 
 
 I would intreat you, therefore, not to lean 
 
 To tales of flander, rather than of candour. 
 
 Be favourable ; nurfe with growing hopes 
 
 The bards, who give you pleafmg novelties ; 
 
 Pkafing I fay, not fuch as His I mean, 
 
 J Who lately introduc'd a breathlefs (lave, 
 
 Making the croud give way: But wherefore trace 
 
 A dunce's faults ? which mail be ihewn at large, 
 
 When more he writes, unlefs he ceafe to rail. 
 
 * His Artk -Enemy."} Lufcius J Who lately introduced A 
 
 Lavinius, the fame Poet who is Ireathlefs Jlave, &c.] It muft 
 
 mentioned in the Prologues to have been a wretched piece, if 
 
 the Andrian and Eunuch. this was the moft beautiful paf- 
 
 f To Uufuk."} The Antients fa 8 e in * Ye < fuch an incident 
 
 called that Mufick, which we " often N^ary as may be 
 
 now term the Belles Lt ttru , fe f n m the Amphitryon of 
 
 Ariftophanes more than once P^tus, where Mercury runs m 
 
 calls the art of dramatick wri- cr y in S 
 ting, Mufick. DACIER. 
 
 oncedite atyut abfcedite, omnes de via decedite* 
 
 Terence
 
 3H PROLOGUE. 
 
 Attend impartially ! and let me once 
 Without annoyance aft an eafy part ;* 
 Led your old fervant be o'er-labour'd ftill 
 
 Terence therefore only blames the whole paflage In th< Amr 
 thofe authors, who, like Lufc;- phitryon, I think it would have 
 us, made it the capital circum- been evident that Plautus alfo 
 flance in their plays. DACIER. meant to ridicule the like prac- 
 Had Madam Dacier quoted tice. 
 
 Concedite tftque aqfeeJite, omnes de 'via decedite, 
 
 Nee quifyttam tarn audax fuat homo, qui obvicnn injijjat mibi ! 
 
 Nam tnihi quidem, kercle, qui minus liceat Deo mini-tarter 
 
 Poi>y/o t ni decedat mihi, quam fervulo in Comcediis ? 
 
 Plaut. Amph. A3. 2. Se. 4. 
 Give place, make room, Hand by, and clear the way, 
 
 Nor any be fo bold to flop my fpeed ! 
 
 For (hall not I, who am a Deity, 
 
 Menace the croud, unlefs they yield to me, 
 
 As well as Slaves in Comedy ? 
 
 * A3 an eafipart.'] Statariam made the fame diftinftionr, and 
 eigcre. The word Statariam has called thofe Pieces Stataria 
 not been thoroughly under- which were grave and compofed, 
 ftood ; in order more fully to and required little or no action, 
 explain it, we muft have re- Ths Motoria on the contrary 
 courfe to its original meaning, were lively and full of bufinefs 
 The Greek Poets divided their andaftion. This Play is of the 
 chorufes into two different forts forrner kind. ^ome Commen- 
 of verfe, the ^gifta M.SAIT, Jla- tators imagine Terence means 
 ttrrh} ver/us, f? called, becaufe pne charafter only by Stntariam, 
 the aclor who repeated them as if fcrfonam were to be under- 
 never moved from his place ; ftood; but though the Antients 
 and into the -a?s$/x<; fze/.n, mo- did CtKtltt'^Xtionj/tatarutftmtf' 
 iorios verfuj, becaufe the per- torios, according to the different 
 former flapped and danced a- parts they were engaged in, lam 
 bout while he was repeating convinced that it is not in this 
 ^i? part. This has been per- place at all applicable to them, 
 fe&ly well explained by the but to the whole comedy : how 
 Scholiafts upon ^Efchylus and elfe are we to explain the 45tH 
 s. The Romans verfe? 
 
 SIB U;-ii ffi, ad all urn mox defirtur grtgtm, 
 
 To
 
 PROLOGUE. 225 
 
 With toilfome characters, the running flave, 
 The eating parafite, enrag'd old man, 
 The bold-fac'd fharper, covetous procurer ; 
 Parts, that alk pow'rs of voice, and iron fides. 
 Deign then, for my fake, to accept this plea, 
 And grant me fome remiflion from my labour. 
 For they, who now produce new comedies, 
 Spare not my age : If there is aught laborious, 
 They run to me ; but if of little weight, 
 Away to others. In our piece to-day 
 *The ftile is pure: Now try my talents then 
 In either character. If I for gain, 
 
 To apply it to any one of the have been Menedemus) and not 
 
 other aftors of the company, to the whole comedy : and the 
 
 would be overtraining thefenfe lines immediately fubfequent, I 
 
 of the text. DACIER. think, confirm' this interpreta- 
 
 Being entirely of a different tion, as they contain a defcrip- 
 
 opinion from Madam Dacier, tion of the laborious characters 
 
 concerning the fenfe of the he ufually reprefented, Clamore 
 
 words Statariam agere, I have fummo, cum labore maxumo ; 
 
 tranflated them as referring which he urges as a plea for his 
 
 merely to the character, which being allowed to aci an eafier 
 
 the Prologue- Speaker was to part at prefent. 
 play, (which I apprehend to 
 
 . date poiejt atem, mihi 
 
 Statariam agere, ut liceat per filentium. 
 
 As to the difficulty ftarted by prehend ; nor do I fee the leaft 
 Madam Dacier concerning the neceflity of applying that verie 
 line, to any one of the other aftors 
 
 Sim / 'Jl, ad alium vox f the "mpany, in kr ' 
 defmur gr egtm , warrant thls interpretation. 
 
 it is a difficulty, which I muft * We ftile is pure.-] Terence 
 pw I cannot very well com- with E reat propriety commends 
 
 this
 
 226 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 Never o'er-rated my abilities ; 
 
 If I have held it flill my chief reward 
 
 To be fubfefyient to your pleafure ; fix 
 
 In me a fair example, that our youth 
 
 May feek to pleafe You, rather than Themfelves. 
 
 this play for the parity of its 
 ftile ; he knew it to be very 
 deficient in point of aftion, 
 and therefore determined to re- 
 pair that defeft by the vivacity 
 and purity of the language ; 
 and he has perfectly fucceeded. 
 
 D.ACIER. 
 
 With all due deference to 
 
 Madam Dacier, the play is, in 
 my mind, far from being def- 
 titute of aftion : the plot being 
 as artfully conftrudled, and con- 
 taining as many unexpected 
 turns and variety of incidents, 
 as any of our Author's pieces, 
 as may perhaps appear in the 
 coiuie of theic-Botes. 
 
 THE
 
 r 227 ] 
 
 THE 
 
 SELF-TORMENTOR*. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 CHREMES, MENEDEMUS. 
 
 C H R E M E S. 
 
 THOUGH our acquaintance is as yet but young, 
 Since you have bought this farm that neigh- 
 
 bours mine, 
 ,And little other commerce is betwixt us ; 
 
 * The Self-Tormentor.'] There 
 is, perhaps, no play of Te- 
 rence, wherein the Author has 
 pointed out the place and time 
 of aclion with more exaclnefs 
 than in the'prefent: and yet 
 the fettling thofetwo points has 
 occafioned a moft furious con- 
 troverfy between two learned 
 Frenchmen, Hedelin and Me- 
 nage. Madam Dacier, in her re- 
 marks, has endeavoured to mode- 
 rate between them, fometimes 
 inclining to one fide, and fome- 
 times to the other. I, perhaps, 
 in my turn, fhall occafionally 
 differ from all three, not doubt- 
 ing but I fhall become equally 
 
 liable to the reprehenfions of 
 future criticks. I fhall, how- 
 ever, endeavour to found my 
 remarks on an accurate exami- 
 nation of the piece itfelf, and 
 to draw my arguments from 
 within, rather than from with- 
 out. The principal caufe of 
 the different errors of Hedelin 
 and Menage, feerns to me to 
 have been an idle parade of 
 learning, foreign to thepurpofe; 
 together with an obilinate ad- 
 herence to their fever.il fyftcms, 
 which having onee adopted, 
 they were refolved to fquare all 
 their arguments to the fupport 
 of their opinions, rather than 
 to
 
 228 THE SELF-TORMENTOR, 
 
 Yet or your virtue, or good neighbourhood, 
 
 (Which is in my opinion kin to friendfhip) 
 
 Urge me to tell you, fairly, openly, 
 
 That you appear to me to labour more 
 
 Than your age warrants, or affairs require. 
 
 For in the name of heav'n and earth, what wou'd you? 
 
 What do you drive at ? Threefcore years of age, 
 
 Or older, as I guefs -, with an eftate, 
 
 Better than which, more profitable, none 
 
 In thefe parts hold ; mafter of many flaves ; 
 
 As if you had not one at your command, 
 
 You labour in their offices yourfelf. 
 
 I ne'er go out fo foon, return fo late, 
 
 Morning or evening, but I fee you ftill 
 
 to direft them townrds the in- 
 vffligation of truth. The mat- 
 ters in difpute between them, 
 though drawn out to a great 
 length of controverfy, lie in a 
 v..-ry narrow compafs. But 
 there heirt in both an apparent 
 jcalouiy of their chorafters, as 
 Jcholar:!, both were induced to 
 multiply quotations and illaf- 
 trations from other authors, in- 
 alead of turning their attention 
 fufficiently to thetex', and ma- 
 king the poet a comment on 
 }iirr,fe!f; which every writer, 
 efpccislly thofe who attempt 
 the Drama, ought to be. Fach 
 i feme inflanccs wrong ; 
 z:id evca when they were in 
 
 the right, having condefcended 
 to maintain their opinion with 
 falfe arguments, each in their 
 turn afforded the opponent an 
 opportunity of cavilling with 
 fome appearance of juftice. 
 Many examples of this will,.! 
 think, appear in the courfe of 
 thefe notes, from which it may 
 be concluded, that there is no 
 point whatever, that lies fo 
 plain and level to the under- 
 /landing, but it may be render- 
 ed obfcure and intricate by 
 learned and ingenious difpu- 
 tants, who chufe it as a fubjeft 
 for the exercife of their talents 
 and a difplay of their erudition. 
 
 At
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 225 
 
 At labour on your acres,* digging, ploughing, 
 Or carrying fome burden: in a word, 
 You ne'er remit your toil, nor fparc yourfelf. 
 
 all day, and being unable to fee 
 any longer, takes his tools on 
 his back, and is making the 
 beft of his way home; Chremes 
 at that very inftant meets him 
 near his own door, where the 
 fcene lies: the beginning of this 
 play therefore is evidently to- 
 wards the clofe of the day, 
 when Menedemus had quitted 
 his work. DACIER. 
 
 There is certainly a great 
 want of accuracy in this way of 
 reafoning, with which Madam 
 Dacicr efpoufes Hcdelin's argu- 
 ment: for why, as Menage j ufl- 
 ly fays, mould the words aut 
 aliquid ferre refer to the manner 
 in which Menedemus was then 
 actually employed, more than 
 the other words, fodere, aut a- 
 rare? or if they were fo inter- 
 preted, flill they muft be ap- 
 plied to his carrying burdens in 
 the courfe of his laborious oc- 
 cupations, while at work in the 
 fields. One word of marginal 
 direction, fetting down the Pan- 
 tomime of the fcene, according 
 to Diderot's pkn, would have 
 folved all our doubts on this 
 head. On the whole, Menage, 
 1 think, fails in his proofs that 
 Menedemus is actually at work, 
 though he labours that point 
 exceedingly: and Hedelin is 
 mans- 
 
 > ploughing cr carry- 
 ing fome bur den. ~\ Fodere, aut 
 arare, aut aliquid firre. This 
 paflage is of much greater con- 
 fequence than is generally ima- 
 gined, towards the underfland- 
 ing the true intent and manage- 
 ment of this play ; for it is 
 material to know what Mene- 
 demus is about when Chremes 
 rft accofls him j whether he is 
 at work in the field, or is re- 
 turning home loaded with his 
 tools. Two very learned men 
 engaged in a very elaborate dif- 
 putation upon this fubjeft. If 
 Menedemus is ftill at^ work 
 when Chremes firft mee'ts-him, 
 Terence would certainly have 
 been guilty of a very grofs im- 
 propriety in the condudl of his 
 comedy ; for, as the fcene never 
 changes, Menedemus muft ne- 
 cefiarily be ever prefent. Te- 
 rence could never be fo abfurd 
 as not to guard againlt falling 
 into fo grofs an error. He not 
 only takes care to acquaint us 
 with the fituation of Menede- 
 mus, but alfo with the hour of 
 the day, at which the piece 
 commences ; which is plainly 
 marked out by thefe words, aut 
 aliquid ferre, which dtfcides the 
 whole point in queftion. Me- 
 nedemus having been at work
 
 23 
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 This, I am certain, is not done for pleafure. 
 *-- You'll fay, perhaps, it vexes you to fee 
 Your work go on fo flowly-, do but give 
 The time you fpend in labouring yourfelf 
 To fet your (laves to work, 'twill profit more. 
 
 manifeftly wrong in maintaining 
 that the fcene lies within the 
 city of Athens. One of the 
 principal objections urged by 
 Hedelin (and referred to by 
 Madam Dacier in the above 
 note) to the Poet's having in- 
 tended to exhibit Menedemus 
 a&ually at work, whenChremes 
 accofts him, is, that the fcene 
 evidently lies between both their 
 houfes. Were the fcene laid 
 In town, as Hedelin contends, 
 indeed it could not be : but if 
 in the country adjacent, as Da- 
 cier agrees with Menage, why 
 might not Menedemus . be at 
 workon a piece of ground lying 
 between the two Koufes ? It is 
 natural enough that the fight of 
 Menedemus thus employed, 
 might urge Chremes to prefume, 
 under the privilege of good 
 neighbourhood, to fpeak to 
 him.- There is a brevity and 
 fullennefs alfo in the anfwers of 
 Menedemus, that feems in cha- 
 rafler for a man employed, and 
 unwilling to be interrupted, 
 though he relents by degrees, 
 and reluctantly fuffers Chremes 
 to force his tools from him. 
 His bting at work toe form? a 
 
 kind of theatrical picture on the 
 opening of the piece. Thefe, 
 I think, are the ftrongeft argu- 
 ments, deduced from the fcene 
 itfelf, which can be urged in 
 behalf of the notion of Mene- 
 demus being exhibited as at 
 work on his farm ; and fome 
 of them,I think, appear weighty 
 and plaufible : but a further 
 examination, with an attention 
 to the conduit of the reft of the 
 piece, determined me to the 
 contrary opinion. At the end 
 of the fcene, it is evident that 
 Menedemus quits the ftage, and 
 enters his own houfe. It can- 
 not be faid, that he is prevail- 
 ed on to defift from his labour 
 by the arguments of Chremes ; 
 fmce he will not even accept 
 the invitation to fupper, left it 
 fhould afford him arefpite from 
 his mifery. It is plain there- 
 fore, I think, that Terence 
 meant to open the firft aft with 
 the dole of the day, together 
 with the labours of Menede- 
 mu ; as he begins the third 
 a5t with the break of day ar.d 
 the coming forth of Menede- 
 mus, to return to his toils and 
 felf punifhmenr. 
 
 The
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 231 
 
 Mene. Have you fuch leifure from your own affairs 
 To think of thofe, that don't concern you, Chremes ? 
 
 Chr ernes. I am a man, and feel for all mankind.* 
 Think, I advife, or alk fojr information : 
 
 The length of this, and fome 
 other controverfial notes on this 
 comedy, will, I hope, be ex- 
 cufed, when it is confidered 
 that thisdifpute has filled whole 
 volumes. I thought it incum- 
 bent on me to clear up thefe 
 points to the beft of my abili- 
 ties; fincenone can be fo juftly 
 reproved for having omitted to 
 explain an author's meaning, as 
 thofe who have attempted to 
 tranflate him. 
 
 * / am a mzn, GV.] Homo 
 fum\ kumani nihil a me alienum 
 futo. It is faid that at the de- 
 livery of this fentiment, the 
 whole theatre, though full of 
 fcolijh and ignorant people, re- 
 founded with applaafe. ST. 
 AUGUSTINE. 
 
 It is faid this fentence was 
 received with an univerfal ap- 
 plaufe. There cannot be a 
 greater argument cf the general 
 good undtrftanding of a people, 
 than a fudden confent to give 
 their approbation of a fentiment 
 which has no emotion in it. If 
 it were fjpoken with never fo 
 great fkill in the aftor, the 
 manner of uttering that fentence 
 could have nothing in it which 
 could ftrike any but ptople of the 
 4 
 
 greatejl humanity, nay, people ele~ 
 gar.t and fkilful in otfervaticnt 
 upon it. It is pcfitble he might 
 have laid his hand on his breaft, 
 and with a winning infinuatioii 
 in his countenance, cxprefled to- 
 his neighbour that he was a 
 man who made his cafe his own i 
 yet F1I engage, a player in CQ- 
 vent-Garden might hit fuch an 
 attitude a thoufand times before 
 he would have been regarded. 
 
 We are not to take this, as hath 
 conflantly been done, for a ten- 
 ement of purs humanity and the 
 natural ebullition of benevolence. 
 We may obferve in it a defigned 
 ftroke of fatirical refentment. 
 The Self- Tormentor, as we faw, 
 had ridiculed Chremes' curiofit+ 
 by a fevere reproof. Chremes, 
 to be even with him, reflect 
 upon the inhumanity of his- 
 temper. " You, fays he [or 
 " rather he implies} feem fuch a 
 " foe to huiranity, that yoit 
 " fpare it not inyourjtlf\ I, on 
 " the other hand, am affecltd 
 < when I feeit iuffer in another." 
 HURD'/ Dffertaticn on the Pro- 
 <uinca of the Drama. 
 
 I cannot difmifs this long^ 
 
 nole without exprelSng my con- 
 
 currence
 
 232 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 If right, that I may do the fame ; if wrong, 
 To turn you from it. 
 
 Mene. I have need to do thus. 
 Do you as you think fit. 
 
 Chremes. Need any man 
 Torment himfelf ? 
 
 Mene. I need.* 
 
 currcnce with the laft cited cri- 
 tick in his explanation of this 
 paflage: but I cannot agree 
 with Sir Richard Steele that 
 fentiments of humanity are fuf- 
 fered to pafs unnoticed on our 
 Theatres, any more than I can 
 conclude with the pious St. Au- 
 guftine, that the Roman theatre 
 was filled with foolifh and igno- 
 rant people. A modern audi- 
 ence feems to be on the catch 
 for fentiment ; and perhaps 
 eften injudicioufly : for nothing 
 can be more oppofite to the ge- 
 nius of the Drama, whether in 
 Tragedy or Comedy, than a 
 forced detail of fentiraents, ur.- 
 lefs, like this before us, they 
 grow out of the circumftances 
 of the play, and fall naturally text. 
 
 J am a man ; and all calamities, 
 
 That touch humanity, come home to me. 
 
 * 1 need.'} Comedy relates other perfon. The principal 
 
 to the whole fpecies, Tragedy charafter of a Comedy, mould 
 
 to individuals. What I mean on the contrary reprefenl a great 
 
 is this, the hcroe of a Tragedy number of men. If by chance 
 
 is fuch or fuch a man ; Regulus, the Poet mould give him fo pe- 
 
 91 Brutus, r' Cato, and no culiar a phyfiognomy, that there 
 
 from the character that delivers 
 them. The original contains a 
 play of words between homo and 
 humani, and a retort of the word 
 alienum, which makes it rather 
 difficult to be given with its full 
 force in a tranflation. My ver- 
 fion, I am confcious, does not 
 comprehend every <word\ but I 
 hope it will be found to include 
 the ivhole meaning of the fenti- 
 ment. It is eafy to open it flill 
 further by a more diffuftd ex- 
 prefllon ; but I thought that 
 concifenefs made it more round, 
 and full, ,and forcible. If there 
 are any readers of a different 
 opinion, let them fubflitute the 
 two following lines ; though I 
 muft own I prefer that in th
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR, 
 
 Cbremes. If you're unhappy, * 
 I'm forry for it. But what evil's this ? 
 What is th* offence fo grievous to your nature, 
 
 putting away his fervants, and 
 condemning himfelf to labour 
 the earth with his own hands. 
 One may venture to pronounce 
 fuch a father to be out of na- 
 ture. A great city would fcarce 
 in an age furnifti one example 
 of fo whimfic?.! a diftrefs. 
 
 Horace, whofe tafte was of a 
 fingvilar Helicacy, appears to 
 me to have perceived this faulr; 
 and to have glanced at it in th* 
 following paflage. 
 
 were in focietj but one indivi- 
 dual who refembled him* Co- 
 medy would relapfe into its 
 childhood, and degenerate into 
 fatire. 
 
 Terence fcems to me to have 
 fallen cfhce into this errbf. His 
 Self-Tormentor is a father af- 
 flifted at the extremities to 
 which he has driven his fon by 
 an excefs of feverity ; for which 
 he punifhes himfelf by rags, 
 hard fare, avoiding company, 
 
 Hie ? <v:x credere poffls 
 
 Quam Jibi nonfit amicus : it a ut pate ille^ T'eretti 
 Tabula quern nliferun: liato <vix:JJe fugato 
 Inducit, ncn fe pejui crucia\erit atquehi'c. 
 
 No 'tis amazing, that this man of pelf 
 Hath yet fo little friendfhip for himfelf, 
 That ev'n the Self-Tormentor in the play, 
 Cruel, who drove his much-lov'd fbn away, 
 Amidft the willing tortures of defpair, 
 Could not, with wretchedoefs like his, compare^ 
 
 FRANCIS. 
 
 Kothing is more in the man- 
 ner of this poet, than to have 
 given two fenfes to pejus, one 
 of which is aimed at Terence, 
 while the other falls cm Fufidius, 
 the immediate objeft of his fa- 
 tire. DIDEROT. 
 
 Perhaps the reader will ima- 
 gine the latter part of the above 
 note, relative to Horace, is 
 rather a refinement of the in- 
 
 genious critick, than the real! 
 intention of the fatirifL 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 * If you're unhappy, I'm forrjf 
 for it.] Si quid labor is eft, ncl- 
 tern. Thislhort fentence in the 
 original has employed all the 
 commentators. The firrt cladfe,- 
 Ji quid laboriseji, has, I think, 
 been very properly explained 
 by Madam Dacicr to fignify, if 
 R
 
 2 3 4 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 That afks fuch cruel vengeance on yourfelf ? 
 
 Mene. Alas ! alas ! [in tears. 
 
 Chremes. Nay, weep not-, but inform me. 
 Be not referv'd : fear nothing: prithee, truftme: 
 By confolation, counfcl, or affiftance, 
 I pofiibly may ferve you. 
 
 Mwe. Would you know it ? 
 
 Chremes. Ay, for the very reafon I have mention'd. 
 
 Mene. I will inform you. 
 
 Chremes. But meanwhile lay down 
 Thofe rakes : don't tire yourfelf. 
 
 Mene. It muft not be. 
 
 Cbremes. What mean you ? 
 
 Mene. Give me leave : that I may take 
 No refpite from my toil. 
 
 Chremes. I'll not allow it. [taking away the rakes. 
 
 Mene. Ah, you do wrong. 
 
 Chremes. What, and fo heavy too ! 
 
 [weighing them in his hand. 
 
 Mene. Such my defert. 
 
 Chremes. Now fpeak. [laying down the rakes. 
 
 Mene. One only fon 
 
 I have. Have did I fay ? Had I mean, Chremes. 
 Have I or no, is now uncertain. 
 
 you have any eaufe of uneajtnrfs ; vellem, in a direSly oppofite 
 
 but I prefer the fenfe given by fcnfe, frequently occurs in our 
 
 Wefterhovius totheword no//w, author. 
 Inuijh it ivcrt notfo. The word 
 
 Chremes.
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 235 
 
 Chr ernes. Wherefore? 
 
 Mene. That you fhall know. An old Corinthian 
 
 woman 
 
 Now fojourns here, a ftranger in thefe parts, 
 And very poor. It happen'd, of her daughter 
 My fon became diftractedly enamour'd ; 
 E'en to the brink of marriage j and all this 
 Unknown to me: which I no fooner learnt 
 Than I began to deal feverely with him, 
 Not as a young and love-fick mind requir'd, 
 But in the rough and ufual way of fathers. 
 Daily I chid him-, crying, " How now, Sir !* 
 " Think you that you fhall hold thefe courfes long, 
 " And I your father living? Keep a miftrefs, 
 " As if me were your wife ! You are deceiv'd, 
 " If you think that, and do not know me, Clinia. 
 " While you aft worthily, you're mine ; if not, 
 " I mall acl; towards you worthy of myfelf. 
 " All this arifes from mere idlenefs. 
 " I, at your age, ne'er thought of love ; but went 
 " To feck my fortune in the wars in Afia, 
 " And there acquir'd in arms both wealth and glory." 
 In mort, things came to fuch a pafs, the youth, 
 O'crcome with hearing ftill the felf-iame thing, 
 
 Hc<zunoiv,Sirf&c.] There after the fame manner, in the 
 
 is a very natural, as well as Prologue to the Meicator of 
 
 truly comick defcription, of a Plautus. 
 father taking his fon to talk, 
 
 R 2 And
 
 236 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 And wearied out with my reproaches , thinking, 
 Age and experience had enabled me 
 To judge his intereft better than himfelf, 
 Went off to ferve the king in Alia, Ghremes. 
 
 Chremes. How fay you ? 
 
 Mene. Stole away three months ago, 
 Without my knowledge. 
 
 Chremes. Both have been to blame : 
 And yet this enterprize befpeaks a mind, 
 Modeft and manly. 
 
 Mene. Having heard of this 
 From fome of his familiars, home I came 
 Mournful, half-mad, and almoft wild with grief. 
 I fit me down ; my fervants run to me ; 
 Some draft my fandals off-, while others hade 
 * To fpread the couches, and prepare the fupper : 
 Each in his way, I mark, does all he can 
 To mitigate my forrow. Noting this, 
 " How !" faid I to myfelf, " fo many then 
 " Anxious for me alone ? to pleafure me ? 
 " So many (laves to drefs me ? f All this colt 
 
 * To fpread the couches ] It the table, which was raifed but 
 
 will not be improper to fay a little from the ground, 
 
 fomething here of the antient COOKE. 
 manner of eating among the 
 
 Greeks and Romans : they fat, f ^ many Jlaves to drefs me?} 
 
 or rather lay, in an accumbent The better fort of people had 
 
 pofture: the beds or couches, eating drefies, which are here 
 
 on which they lay, were round alluded to. Theft: drefles were 
 
 l 'light
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 337 
 
 ** For me alone ? Meanwhile, my only fon, 
 
 " For whom all thefe were fit, as well as me, 
 
 " Nay rather more, fmce he is of an age 
 
 " More proper for their ufe Him, him, poor boy, 
 
 " Has my unkindnefs driven forth to forrow. 
 
 " Oh I were worthy of the heavieft cnrfe, 
 
 " Could I brook That! No ; long as he mall lead 
 
 " A life of penury abroad, an exile 
 
 " Through my unjuft fe verity, fo long 
 
 " Will I revenge his wrongs upon myielf, 
 
 " Labouring, fcraping, fparing, flaving for him." 
 
 In fliort, I did fo ; in the houfe I left 
 
 Nor * cloaths, nor mpveables ; I fcrap'd up all. 
 
 light garments to put on as * Cloaths, mo<veables, Slaver, 
 foon as they had bathed. They male and female.] Nee was, nee 
 commonly bathed before eat- *veflimentum t ancillas, 3V. A- 
 ing; and the chief meal was in mong the fragments of Me- 
 the evening. COOKE. nander's Heautontimorumenos, 
 
 is a line much to this purpofe. 
 
 Asrpov, flfpanratva?* apyupw/xal*. 
 The bath, maid-fervants, filver-utenfils. 
 
 There are alfo two other lines, which feem to be defcriptive of the 
 miieries of being driven into exile. 
 
 OlXO( (JifVilV, V.0.1 (J.VElV Av9pOV, 
 
 H {xnxiT* ttvai) Toy xa/co^ ivZaifjisva.- 
 Let him remain at home, and free remain, 
 Or ceafe to be, who wou'd be truly bleft ! 
 May we not conjecture from but what is merely relative to 
 thefe paiiages, that this firft the Self- Tormentor, which, we 
 fcene is a pretty clofe tranflation know, occupied the whole play 
 from Menander; cfpecially as it in the Greek poet ? 
 contains no part of the fable, 
 
 R 3 My
 
 2 5 S THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 My fiaves, both male and female, except thofe 
 Who more than earn'd their bread in country- work;, 
 I fold: Then fet my houfe to fale:* In all 
 I got together about fifteen talents ; -f 
 Purchas'd this farm; and here fatigue myfelf ; 
 Thinking I do my fon lefs injury, 
 J While I'm in mifery too-, nor is it juft 
 For Me, I think, to tafte of pleafure here, 
 
 * Then fet ny boufe to fale.~\ qual to 193 I. 15 s. Englifh 
 
 Jnfcripjt illico #dei. It appears money, 
 by this, that the Greeks and 
 
 Romans ufed to fix bills on their t Wbile Pm in mi f er y tco ^ 
 
 doors, as we do now. JEdt* There is much refemblance be- 
 
 veaduntl*, adtf locante, a houfe tvveen thi s charafter of Menede- 
 
 to be fold, a houfe to be let. mus > and that of Laertes in the 
 
 PATRICK. Odyfley. Laertes, unhappy and 
 afflifted at the abfence of his 
 
 f Fifteen talents.] A talent, fon, is under the fame trouble 
 
 according to Cooke, was e- and anxiety. 
 
 Thy Sire in folitude foments his care : 
 
 The Court is jo) lefs, for thou art not there, &c. 
 
 Pope's Odyffey, Book XI, ver. 226. 
 
 Laertes lives, the miferable Sire, 
 Lives, but implores of ev'ry pow'r to lay 
 The burden down, and wifhes for the day. 
 Torn from bis offspring in the eve of life, &c. 
 
 Book XV. ver. 375. 
 
 But old Laertes weeps his life away, 
 
 And deems thc-e loft 
 
 The mournful hour that tore his fon away 
 
 Sent the fad Sire in folitude to ftray ; 
 
 Yet bufied with his flaves, to cafe his woe, 
 
 He dreft the vine, and bad the garden blow, &c. 
 
 Book XVI. ver. 145. 
 
 Till
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 239 
 
 Till He return in fafety to partake on't. 
 
 Cbremes. You I believe a tender parent, Him 
 A duteous fon, if govern'd prudently. 
 But you were unacquainted with his nature, 
 And he with your's : fad life, where things are fo ! ' 
 You ne'er betray'd your tendernefs to Him ; 
 Nor durft he place that confidence in You, 
 Which well becomes the bofom of a father. 
 Had that been done, this had not happen'd to you. 
 
 Mem. True, I confefs : but I was moft in fault. 
 
 Chremes. All, Menedemus, will, I hope, be well, 
 And truft, your fon will foon return in fafety. 
 
 Mem. Grant it, good Gods ! 
 
 Cbremes. They will. Now, therefore, fmce 
 *The Dionyfia are held here to-day, 
 
 Ybe Diotyfia.] The Athe- wrong one; for he thinks the 
 
 nians celebrated feveral feafts feaft Terence is now fpeaking 
 
 in honour of Bacchus, but there of, was that held in the Spring 
 
 were two principal ones ; one feafon, called by the antients 
 
 kept in theSpring, the other in Antbtjleria, where he alfo places 
 
 the Autumn feafon. TheAbbe that called the Pythoigia, be- 
 
 d'Aubignac [Hedelin] has been caufe they then broached the 
 
 very minute in his account of winecafks; and he grounds his 
 
 thefe feafts, and yet after all opinion upon line the 5Oth, of 
 
 has unhappily pitched upon the the firft fcene in the third acl. 
 
 R{lt--vi omntA delta, omnesferias. 
 I have pierc'd ev'ry veflel, ev'ry caflc. 
 
 But this manner of reafor.ing they did fo upon all their grand 
 is by no means conclufive; for, feftivals, in order to entertain 
 could they not have done juft their guefts with the belt wine 
 the felf-fame thing at any other their cellar afforded. Befides, 
 time of the year ? And in fail we may here obferve that the 
 R 4 broaching
 
 240 THE SELF-TORMENTOR, 
 
 If 'tis convenient, come, and feaft with me. 
 
 Mene. Impoflible. 
 
 Chr ernes. Why ib? Nay, prithee now, 
 Indulge yourfelf a while: your abfentlbn, 
 I'm fure, would have it ib. 
 
 Mene. It is not meet, 
 That I, who drove him forth to mifery. 
 Should fly it now mylelf. 
 
 Ckremcs. You are refolv'd? 
 
 Mene. Moft conftantly. 
 
 Broaching all the veffels was not 
 in compliance with cuftom, but 
 fhat Chremes was forced into it 
 by the jmportunitiesof Bacchisj 
 neither docs he mention it to 
 Menedemus, but with an intent 
 to let him fee to what a mon- 
 flrous expe;ice he is going to 
 expofe himfelf : This miftake 
 is of greater confequence than 
 it may at firft appear to be; for 
 jt is productive of many more, 
 2nd led thp Abbe to place the 
 fcene pf this comedy errone- 
 oufly. The feaft in queftion 
 was that celebrated in the Au- 
 tumn feafon, and was called 
 Dionyjia in agris, the Dionyfia in 
 the fields. Neither is the fcene 
 in Athens, as Mr. d'Aubignac 
 fuppofed, but in a fmall village 
 where Chremes and Mencde- 
 jnus had each of them a houfe. 
 The only difficulty remaining, 
 j$ tp account why Chremes fays 
 
 Dionyjta hie funt t the 
 are held here to-day. The rea- 
 fon is obvious. This feaft con-, 
 tinued for many days, b ut not 
 in the fame boroughs or vjl- 
 lages at one and the fame time ; 
 to-day it was here, to-morrow 
 there, &c. that they wight af- 
 femble the more company to- 
 gether. DACIER. 
 
 Menage obferves, that it is not 
 flear on what authority Ma- 
 dam Pacier pronounces fo ab- 
 folutely, concerning the fluctu- 
 ating manner of celebrating 
 this feaft, to-day here, to-mor- 
 row there, &c f and though he 
 differs with Hedelin about the 
 place in which the fcene lies, 
 yet he defends the Abbe's opi- 
 nion concerning thePytkcigia, in 
 oppofuion to Madam Dacier. 
 Non nojtrum eft tantqf fomfcnere 
 lites. 
 
 Ckremts.
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR, 241 
 
 Ckremes. Farewel then ! 
 
 Mene. Fare you well ! [Exit. 
 
 SCENE ii. 
 
 CHREMES alone. 
 
 He draws tears from me. How I pity him ! 
 But 'tis high time, as the day goes, to warn 
 My neighbour Phania to come forth to fupper. 
 I'll go, and fee if he's at home. 
 
 [goes to PhaniaV door, and returns. 
 
 There was, 
 
 It feems, no need of warning ; for, they tell me, 
 He went to his appointment fome time fince. 
 'Tis I myfelf that keep my guefts in waiting. 
 I'll in immediately. But what's the meaning 
 That my door opens ? Who's this ? I'll retire. 
 
 [retires. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 Enter CLITIPHO, freaking to Clinia within. 
 
 As yet, my Clinia, you've no caufe to fear : 
 They are not long : and me, I'm confident, 
 Will be here fhprfly with the meflenger. 
 Prithee, away then with thefe idle cares, 
 
 Which
 
 242 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 "Which thus torment you ! 
 
 Chremes, behind.] Whom does my fon fpeak to ? 
 Clit. My father as I wifh'd. Good Sir, well met. 
 Chremes. What now ? 
 
 Clit. D'ye know our neighbour Menedemus ? 
 
 Chremes. Ay, very well. 
 
 Clit. D'ye know he has a fon ? 
 
 Chremes. I've heard he is in Afia, 
 
 Clit. No fuch thing : 
 He's at our houfe, Sir. 
 
 Chremes. How ! 
 
 Clit. But juft arriv'd : 
 Ev'n at his landing I fell in with him, 
 And brought him here to fupper: for, from boys, 
 We have been friends and intimates. 
 
 Chremes. Good news ! 
 Now do I wilh the more that Menedemus, 
 Whom I invited, were my guefl to-day, 
 That I, and under my own roof, might be 
 The firft to have furpris'd him with this joy ! 
 And I may yet. [going- 
 
 Clit. Take heed ! it were not good. 
 
 Chremes. Howfo? 
 
 Clit. Becaufe the youth is yet in doubt : 
 Newly arriv'd ; in fear of ev'ry thing ; 
 He dreads his father's anger, and iufpecb 
 The difpofition of his miftrefs tow'rds him , 
 Her, whom he doats upon-, on whofe account, 
 
 3 This
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 243 
 
 This difference and departure came about. 
 
 Chremes. I knew it. 
 
 Clit. He has juft difpatch'd his boy* 
 Into the city to her, and our Syrus 
 I fent along with him. 
 
 Chremes. What; lays the fon ? 
 
 Clit. Says? that he's miserable. 
 
 Chremes* Miferable ! 
 
 Who need be lefs fo ? for what earthly good 
 Can man poiTefs, which he may not enjoy ? 
 Parents, a profp'rous country, friends, birth, riches. 
 Yet thefe all take their value from the mind 
 Of the pofTeflbr : He that knows their ufe, 
 To him they're bleflings ; he that knows it not, 
 To him mifufe converts them into curfes. 
 
 Clit. Nay,- but he ever was a crofs old man : 
 And now there's nothing that I dread fo much, 
 As left he be tranfported in his rage 
 To fome grofs outrages againft his fon. 
 
 Chremes. He! He ? But I'll contain myfelf. 'Tis 
 good 
 
 * He has juft difpatclf d his loy rence, where one may not meet 
 
 into the city to her.] Servolum ad with this expreflion taken in his 
 
 tarn z'ffurbem mi/it. This plainly own fenfe of it. He will per- 
 
 marks the fcene to be in the fuade none to think fo, except 
 
 country ; though M. d'Aubig- thofe who have not read them, 
 
 nac treats this argument with For my part I do not recollecl 
 
 ridicule. But it is in vain for one inftance of it, and I will 
 
 him to aflert that there is not venture to fay it is impoflible to 
 
 one comedy of Plautus, or Te- find one. DACIER. 
 
 For
 
 244 THE SELf-TORMENTOR. 
 
 For Menedemus that his fon fhou'd fear. [cfide. 
 Clit. What fay you, Sir, within yourfelf ? 
 
 Chremes. I fay, 
 Be't as it might, the fon fhou'd have remain'd, 
 Grant that the father bore too drift a hand 
 Upon his loofe defires; he fhou'd have born it. 
 Whom would he bear withal, if not a parent ? 
 Was't fitting that the father mou'd conform 
 To the fon's humour, or the fon to his ? 
 And for the rigour that he murmurs at, 
 'Tis nothing : The feverities of fathers, 
 Unlefs perchance a hard one here and there, 
 Are much the fame : they reprimand their fons 
 For riotous excefits, wenching, drinking ; 
 And ftarve their pleafures by a fcant allowance, 
 Yet this all tends to good : But when the mind 
 Is once enflav'd to vicious appetites, 
 It needs muft follow vicious meafures too. 
 Remember then this maxim, Clitipho, 
 A wife one 'tis, to draw from others' faults, 
 A profitable lefibn for yourfelf. 
 
 Clit. I do believe it. 
 
 Cbremes. Well, I'll in, and fee 
 What is provided for our fupper : You, 
 As the day wears, fee that you're not far hence. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 245 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 C L I T I P H O alone. 
 
 What partial judges of all fons are fathers ! 
 
 Who afk grey wifdom from our greener years, 
 
 And think our minds mou'd bear no touch of youth-, 
 
 Governing by their pafiions, now kill'd in them, 
 
 And not by thofe that formerly rebell'd. 
 
 If ever I've a fon, I promife him 
 
 He mall find Me an eafy father , fit 
 
 To know, and apt to pardon his offences : 
 
 Not fuch as mine, who, fpeaking of another, 
 
 Shews how he'd ad in fuch a cafe himfelf : 
 
 Yet when he takes a cup or two too much, 
 
 Oh, what mad pranks he tells me of his own ! 
 
 But warns me now, " to draw from others' faults 
 
 " A profitable leflbn for myfelf." 
 
 Cunning old gentleman ! he little knows, 
 
 He pours his proverbs in a deaf man's ear. 
 
 The words of Bacchis, Give me, Bring me, now 
 
 Have greater weight with me : to whofe commands, 
 
 Alas ! I've nothing to reply withall ; 
 
 Nor is there man more wretched than myfelf. 
 
 For Clinia here, (though he, I mud confefs, 
 
 Has
 
 246 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Has cares enough) has got a miftrefs, modeft, 
 Well-bred, and ftranger to all harlot arts : 
 Mine is a felf-will'd, wanton, haughty madam, 
 Gay, and extravagant ; and let her afk 
 Whate'er me will, fhe muft not be denied ; 
 Since poverty I durft not make my plea. 
 This is a plague I have but newly found, 
 Nor is my father yet appriz'd of it. 
 
 A G T
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 247 
 
 A C T II. S C E N E I. 
 C L I N I A. 
 
 Clin. T TAD my affairs in love been profperous, 
 A X They had, I know, been here long fmce: 
 
 but, ah, 
 
 I fear fhe's fall'n from virtue in my abfence : 
 So many things concur to prove it fo, 
 My mind mifgives me ; opportunity, 
 The place, her age, an infamous old mother, 
 Under whofe governance me lives, to whom 
 Nought but gain's precious. 
 
 To him C L I T I P H O. 
 
 CUt. Clinia! 
 
 Clin. Woe is me ! [to himfelf. 
 
 CUt. Take heed, left fome one ifTue from your 
 
 father's, 
 And chance to fee you here. 
 
 Clin. I will : but yet 
 My mind forebodes I know not what of ill. 
 
 Clit.
 
 24$ THE SELF-TORMENTOR* 
 
 Clit. What, Hill foreboding, ere you know the truth ? 
 
 Clin. Had there been no untoward circumftance, 
 They had returned already. 
 
 Cllt. Patience, Clinia! 
 They'll be here prefently. 
 
 Clin. Prefehtly ! but when ? 
 
 Clit. *Confider, 'tis a long way off: And then 
 You know the ways of women ; to fet off, 
 And trick their perfons out, requires an age, 
 
 Clin. Oh Clitipho, I fear- 
 
 Clit. Take courage ; fee y 
 Dromo and Syrus ! 
 
 S C fi N E If. 
 Enter SYRUS and DROMO, converfmg at a dijlance. 
 
 Syrus. Say you ? 
 Dromo. Even fo. 
 
 Syrus. But while we chat, the girls are left behind. 
 Clit. liftening.] Girts, Clinia! do you hear ? 
 Clin. I hear, I fee, 
 And now, at laft, I'm happy, Clitipho. 
 
 Drcmo to Syrus."] Left behind ! troth, no wonder : 
 fo encumber'd ; 
 
 * ConJiJer, 'tis a long iv&y fcene, arc 'a further con firm a- 
 eff".] Non cogitat hinc longule tion of the fcenc'a lying in the 
 ejji ? This paflage, as well as country, 
 the circumflances of the next 
 
 A troop
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 249 
 
 A troop of waiting-women at their heels ! 
 
 Clinia, lift'ening.'] Confufion! whence mould flie have 
 
 waidng-women ? 
 Clit. How can I tell ? 
 Syrus to Dromo.] We ought not to have dropp'd 
 
 them.' 
 
 They bring a world of baggage ! 
 Clima, liftening.'] Deatli ! 
 Syrus. Gold, cloaths ! 
 
 It grows late too, and they may mifs their way. 
 We've been too blame : Dromo, run back, and 
 
 meet them. 
 Away ! quick, quick ! don't loiter. [Exit Dromo. 
 
 Clin. What a wretch ! 
 All my fair hopes quite blafled ! 
 
 Clit. What's the matter ? 
 What is it troubles you ? 
 
 Clin. What troubles me ? 
 
 D'ye hear? She waiting-women, gold, and cloaths! 
 She, whom I left with one poor fervant-girl ! 
 Whence come they, think you ? 
 Clit. Oh, I take you now. 
 Syrus to bimfdf.~] Gods, what a croud! our Koufc 
 
 will hardly hold them. 
 
 What eating, and what drinking will there be ! 
 How miferable our old gentleman ! 
 But here are thofe I wilh'd to fee ! 
 
 [feeing Clit. and Clinia. 
 VOL. I. S CO*.
 
 250 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Clin. Oh Jove! 
 
 Where then are truth, and faith, and honour fled ? 
 "While I a fugitive, for love of you, 
 Quit my dear country, You, Antiphila, 
 For fordid gain defert me in diftrefs : 
 You, for whole fake I courted infamy, 
 And caft off my obedience to my father. 
 He, I remember now with grief and fhame, 
 Oft warn'd me of thefe women's ways ; oft tried 
 In vain by fage advice to wean me from her. 
 But now I bid farewell to her for ever; 
 Though, when 'twere good and wholefome, I was 
 
 froward. 
 No wretch more curft than I F 
 
 Syrus. He has mifconftrued 
 All our difcourfe, I find. You fancy, Clinia, 
 Your miftrefs other than me is. Her life, 
 As far as we from circumftance could learn, 
 Her difpofition tow'rd you, are the fame. 
 
 Clin. How ! tell me all : for there is nought on eartfi 
 I'd rather know than that my fears are falfe. 
 
 Syrus. Firft then, that you may be apprizM of all, 
 Th' old woman, thought her mother, was. not fo : 
 That beldam alfo is deceas*dj for this 
 I overheard her, as we came along, 
 Telling the other. 
 
 Clit. Other! who? what other? 
 
 2 Syrus.
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 251 
 
 Syrus. Let me but finifli what I have begun, 
 And I fhall come to that. 
 
 Clit. Difpatch then. 
 
 Syrus. Firfl, 
 
 Having arriv'd, Dromo knocks at the door : 
 Which an old woman had no fooner open'd, 
 But in goes Dromo, and I after him. 
 Th' old woman bolts the door, and fpins again. 
 And now, or never, Clinia, might be known, 
 Coming thus unexpectedly upon her, 
 Antiphila's employments in your abfence : 
 For fuch, as then we faw, we might prefume 
 Her daily practice, which, of all things elfe, 
 Betrays the mind and difpofition moft. 
 Bufily plying of the web we found her,* 
 Decently clad in mourning,- I fuppofe, 
 For the deceas'd old woman. She had on 
 No gold, or trinkets, but was plain and neat, 
 And dreft like thofe who drefs but for themfelves.' 
 No female varnim to fet off her beauty : 
 Her hair difhevel'd, long, and flowing loofe 
 About her moulders. Peace! {to Clinia. 
 
 Clin. Nay, prithee, Syrus. 
 
 * Bujily flying of the <wel ixe terally with the following 
 
 found her. ~\ Texentsm telam ftu- Greek one preferved by Le 
 
 dioj'e ipfam offemiimut. This line Clerc among the fragments of 
 
 of our author agrees almoft li- Menandcr. 
 
 E ic t ?.[e3 fxpffialo <iA&TS ;':;$ Tatv. 
 
 82 Do
 
 252 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Do not tranfport me thus without a caufe. 
 
 Syrus. Th' old woman fpun the woof; one fer- 
 
 vant-girl, 
 A tatter'd dirty dowdy, weaving by her. * 
 
 Clit. Clinia, if this be true, as fure it is, 
 Who is more fortunate than you? D'ye mark 
 The ragged dirty girl that he defcrib'd ? 
 A fign the millrefs leads a blamelefs life, 
 When me maintains no flaunting go-between : 
 For 'tis a rule with thofe gallants, who wifli 
 To win the millrefs, firfl to bribe the maid. 
 
 Clin. Goon, I beg you, Syrus-, and take heed 
 You fill me not with idle joy. What faid fhe 
 When you nam'd Me ? 
 
 Syrus. As foon as we inform'd her 
 You were return'd, and begg'd her to come to you, 
 
 * Onefervant girl, a tatter'd gletta, immvnda illu'vlt. This 
 
 dirty dowdy, weaving by her.] paflage is equally clofe to the 
 
 Praterea una ancillula erat : ea fenfe of the following, taken 
 
 ttxebat una, pannis objita t ne- from the fame book. 
 
 Le Clerc took thefe Greek Suppofing the lines in quef- 
 
 lines from Viftorius;' and Vic- tion to be genuine, may we 
 
 torius copied them from a book not fairly conclude that all this 
 
 of Politian, who had written fine narration is a very clofe 
 
 them in the margin, not (as it imitation of Menander, as well 
 
 iliould feem) of his own com- as that other beautiful one, 
 
 pofition, but from a fragment, which opens the firfl Aft ? 
 which he had fomewhere met 
 with, of Menander. 
 
 She
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 253 
 
 She left her work immediately, and burft 
 Into a flood of tears, which one might fee 
 Were Ihed for love of you. * 
 
 Clin. By all the Gods, 
 I know not where I am for very joy. 
 Oh, how I trembled ! 
 
 Clit. Without caufe, I knew. 
 fBut come-, now, Syrus, tell us, who's that other? 
 
 Syrus. Your miftrefs, Bacchis. 
 
 Clit. How ! what ! Bacchis ? 
 Where d'ye propofe to carry Her, rogue ? 
 
 Syrus. Where ? 
 To our houfe certainly. 
 
 Clit. My father's ? 
 
 Syrus. Ay. 
 
 Clit. Oh monftrous impudence ! 
 
 Syrus. Confider, Sir j 
 
 * Were Jhed for love cf j;#.j it among us for this fpecch, 
 
 Terence's Comedy of the Self- though fo full of nature and 
 
 Tormentor is written is if he good fenfe. 
 hoped to pleafe none but fuch STEELE'S Spectator, No. 502. 
 as had as good a tafte as him- 
 
 felf. I could not but reflect t But come', now, Syrus, &c.] 
 
 upon the natural defcription of Here we enter upon the other 
 
 the innocent young woman made P art of the fable, which the poet 
 
 by the fervant t.o his matter, has mod artfully complicated 
 
 When I came to the bou/e, &c. with the main fubjeft, by mak- 
 
 He muft be a very good aftor, ing Syrus bring Clitipho's mif- 
 
 and draw attention rather from trefs along with Antiphila. 
 
 his own character than the words This part of the flory, we 
 
 cf the author, that could gain know, was not in Menander. 
 
 S 2 More
 
 254 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 More danger, the more honour. 
 
 Clit. Louk ye, firnih, 
 
 You mean to purchafe praife at my expence, 
 Where the leaft flip of yours would ruin me. 
 What is't you drive at ? 
 
 'Syrus. But - 
 
 Clit. But what? 
 
 Syrus. I'll tell you ; 
 Give me but leave ! 
 
 Clin. Permit him. 
 
 Clit. Well, I do. 
 
 Syrus. This bufmefs now is juft as if 
 
 Clit. Confufion! 
 What a long round-about beginning ! 
 
 Clin. True/ 
 To the point, Syrus ! 
 
 Syrus. I've no patience with you. 
 You ufe me ill, Sir, and I can't endure it. 
 
 Clin. Hear him: peace> Clitipho ! \to Cljtipho, 
 
 Syrus. You'd be in love ; 
 Poflefs your miftrcis; and have wherewithal 
 To make her prefents : but to gain all this 
 You'd rifque no danger. By my troth, you're wile, 
 If it be wife to wilh for what can't be. 
 Take good and bad together ; both, or none -, 
 Chufe which you will -, no miftrefs, or no danger. 
 
 And- yet the fcheme I've laid is fair and fafe ; 
 
 Your
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 255 
 
 Your miftrefs may be with you at your father's 
 
 Without detection ; by the felf-fame means 
 
 I (hall procure the fum you're promis'd her, 
 
 Which you have rung fo often in my ears, 
 
 You've almoft deafen'd them. What wou'd you more ? 
 
 Clit. If it may be fo 
 
 Syrus. If ! the proof mail mew. 
 
 Clit. Well, well then, what's this fcheme ? 
 
 Syrus. We will pretend 
 That Bacchis is his miflrefs. 
 
 Clit. Mighty fine! 
 
 What mall become then of his own ? Shall She 
 Pafs for his too, becaufe one's not enough 
 To anfwer for ? 
 Syrus. No. She mall to your mother. 
 
 Clit. How fo ? 
 
 Syrus. 'Twere tedious, Clitipho, to tell : 
 Let it fuffice, I've reafon for it. 
 
 Ctit. Nonfenfe ! 
 I fee no ground to make me hazard this. 
 
 Syrus. Well-, if you dread this, I've another way, 
 Which you mall both own has no danger in't. 
 
 Clit. Ay, prithee, find that out. 
 
 Syrus. With all my heart. 
 I'll run and meet the women on the road, 
 And order them to go ftraight home again. 
 
 Clit. How ! what ! 
 
 S 4 tyrus.
 
 256 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Syrus. I mean to cafe yoy of your fear, 
 That you may deep in peace on either fide. * [going. 
 
 * That you may Jletp in peace on the fmall, though precious rc- 
 
 *//<?WSIDE.]/AUREM utram'viit mains of it, was much the fame 
 
 otiose ut dormias. Literally, on as that of the George Dandin 
 
 either EAR. A Latin proverb of Moliere, the marriage of a 
 
 ufed by Plautus as well as our poor man to a rich heireis. An 
 
 author, and borrowed from the extraft or two may, perhaps, 
 
 Greek. We have an inftance of notbedifagreeable to the reader, 
 
 it among the fragments of the and ferve to relieve the drynefs 
 
 ITAOK.ION, or Necklace, of of the controverfial notes to this 
 
 Menander. The fubjeftof that comedy. The very firft line 
 
 comedy, if we may judge from contains the proverb. 
 
 % > -jr/xAnpo; vctra. 
 v, Ka.Tfpya.sscc& fiey* 
 K< Tp<onTcr t^yov' (K Trig <3tmu$ 
 ESf^aXa Tjj tMtusctv vv tS^ero, 
 Iv' SKiGteTraet -rctvlei; ei; TO KpiwCt'Aj 
 Tlpoaairov, n 3' svyvufog j y (xn yuvw, 
 btSToivx 3i inv o\J//x v\v t\Cr\totrO' 
 Oio{ ev a<8xo<; tc;i 3n TO Atyoptfyoy. 
 TUT* H tittrciv <7' r ap, ti nxi 
 BSeStiTTOftai rnv j'txra ToAAaw /xo/ 
 i/' (np.ii, 
 
 Ma TOVT* OAuftT/ ov K Aflni-ar, 
 
 IIofS<ffap'Ov ^tfaftvTiKov, vai Aoya 
 
 T*x>', Tya y " , tv rtAAn^ a v1g/f ayo/ . 
 Now may our Heirefs flcep on either ear, 
 Having perform'd a great and mighty feat, 
 Andfatisfied the longings of her foul. 
 Her, whom flie hated moft, flie has caft forth, 
 That all the world may henceforth look upon 
 The vifage of Creobyla, and thence 
 May know my wife for millrefs, by the print 
 Of flern' authority upon her brow. 
 She is indeed, as the old faying goes, 
 (a) An Afs among the Apes. This can't be kept 
 (*) A proverb to fignify thofe, who arc prpud among thofr, who laugh at them.
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTQR. 257 
 
 Ctit. Whatfhallldo? 
 
 Clin. E'en profit of his fcheme. 
 
 In filence, even tho' I wifh'd it fo. 
 
 Curie on the night, the fource of all my ills ! 
 
 Ah me, that I (hou'd wed Creobyla ! 
 
 Ten Talents, and a wife of half-a-yard ! 
 
 And then who is there can endure her pride? 
 
 By Jove, by Pallas, 'tis intolerable. 
 
 A maid moft diligent, and quick as thought, 
 
 She has caft forth, to introduce another. 
 
 There is another psflage ex- fubjeft; but, for the fake of 
 
 tant, containing part of a dia- variety, I fhall fubjoin an ex- 
 
 logue between the hufband and tradl from the fame comedyof a 
 
 an old neighbour, on the fame different colour. 
 
 n Tfti; K.'ixoSaiuwv, 0^1? CLV vtvrt^ yetfj.it. 
 ~K.cu TaiSoToieutti" t 
 
 TictvTuv fispo? TI, TWV 5 ayaSwv s $v 
 Thrice wretched he, that's poor and takes a wife, 
 And doth engender children ! Oh fool, fool ! 
 Who undefended, bare of neceflaries, 
 Soon as ill fortune comes, that comes to all, 
 Can.'t wrap his miferies in affluence ; 
 But in a naked, wretched, poverty 
 Freezes, like winter; mifery his portion 
 Too amply dealt, and every good denied. 
 
 What Menander has in the above paflage confidered metaphori- 
 cally, our own Shakefpeare has very finely realized : 
 
 Poor naked wretches, wherefoe'er you are, 
 That bide the pelting of this pitilefs ftorm! 
 How (hall your houfelefs heads, and unfed fides, 
 Your loop'd and window'd raggednefs, defend you 
 From feafons fuch as thefe 9" ' KINGLEAR. 
 
 ay.
 
 2 5 S THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Clit. But, Syrus, tell me then 
 
 Syrus. Away, away! 
 This day, too late, you'll wifh for her in vain, [going. 
 
 din. This is your time: enjoy it, wliile you may : 
 Who knows, if you may have the like again ? 
 
 Clit. Syrus, I fay. 
 
 Syrus. Call as you pleafe, I'll on, 
 
 Clit. Clinia, you're right. Ho, Syrus ! Syrus, ho ! 
 Syrus, I fay. 
 
 Syrus. So, he grows hot at laft. [to himfelf. 
 What would you, Sir ? [turning about. 
 
 Clit. Come back, eome back ! 
 
 Syrus. I'm here. [returns. 
 
 Your pleafure, Sir! What, will not this content you? 
 
 Clit. Yes, Syrus ; me, my pafiion, and my fame 
 I render up to you: diipofe of all ! 
 But fee you're not to blame. 
 
 Syrus. Ridiculous ! 
 
 Spare your advice, good Clitipho! you know 
 Succefs is my concern ftill more than your's : 
 For if perchance we fail in our attempt, 
 You (hall have words , but I, alas, dry blows. 
 Be fure then of my diligence j and beg 
 Your friend to join, and countenance our fcheme. 
 
 CIin. Depend on me: I fee it muft be fo. 
 
 Clit. Thanks, my beft Clinia ! 
 
 Gin. But take heed Ihe trip not. 
 
 Syrus.
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 259 
 
 Syrus. Oh, flie is well inftru&ed. 
 
 Clit. Still I wonder 
 
 How you prevail'd fo eafily upon her > 
 Her, who's fo fcornfull. 
 
 Syrus. I came juft in time, 
 
 Time, that in moft affairs is all in all : 
 For there I found a certain wretched captain, 
 Begging her favours. *She, an artful baggage, 
 Denied him, to enflame his mind the more, 
 
 * She, an artful baggage, &c.~\ fentiment, and much of the 
 Htfc arte Iraftabat <virum, ut il- fame turn of expreflion, in 
 lius animut* cupidum inopid ac- Shakefpeare's All's Well that 
 (tndcret. There is the fame Ends Well. 
 
 She knew her diflance, and did angle for me, 
 Madding my eager xe/s nvitb her rejlraint, 
 As all impediments in fancy's courfe 
 Are motives of more fancy. 
 
 This fentiment is alfo finely ployed by Shakefpeare, is almoft 
 touched upon by Ben Jonfon in parallel to that in Terence, but 
 his Every Man in his Humour, in Ben Jonfon's play it is ap- 
 Thc occafion on which it is em- plied to the education of youth. 
 I am refolv'd I will not flop his journey, 
 Nor practice any violent means to flay 
 Th' unbridled courfe of youth in him; for that 
 Reflrain'd, grows more impatient ; and in kind 
 Like to the eager, but the generous grey-hound, 
 Who ne'er fo little from his game with-held, 
 Turns head, and leaps up at his holder's throat. 
 
 Every Man in his Humour, Aft I. 
 
 I do not fay that the above juftly obferved, was borrowed 
 fine lines were ftruck out from from another part of oar au- 
 this paflage in Terence ; but it thor's works, which fhall be 
 is plain that the remainder of pointed out in the notes on the 
 Knowell's fpeech, as the late next comedy, 
 editor of Jonfon hat 
 
 And
 
 260 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 And make her court to you. But hark ye, Sir, 
 Be cautious of your conduct ! no imprudence ! 
 You know how fkrewd and keen your father is ; 
 And I know your intemperance too well. 
 No double meanings, glances, leers, fighs, hems, 
 Coughing, or titt'ring, I befeech you, Sir J 
 
 Clit. I'll play my part 
 
 Syr us. Look to't ! 
 
 Clit. To your content. 
 
 Syrus. But fee, the women ! they're foon after us 
 
 [looking out. 
 
 Clit. Where are they > [Syrus flops him.] Why d'ye 
 hold me ? 
 
 Syrus. She is not 
 Your miftrefs now, 
 
 CUt. True : not before my fathcr t 
 But now, meanwhile 
 
 Syrus. Nor now, meanwhile. 
 
 Clit. Allow me ! 
 
 Syrus. No. 
 
 Clit. But a moment ! 
 
 Syrus. No. 
 
 Clit. A fmgle kifs ! 
 
 Syrus. Away, if you are wife? 
 
 C//V. Well, well, I'm gone. 
 What's He to do ? 
 
 Syrus. Stay here. 
 
 OBJ
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 261 
 
 Clit. Oh happy 
 
 Syrus. March ! [pujhes off Clitipho. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 Enter BACCHIS, and ANTIPHILA at a diftanct. 
 
 Bacch. Well, I commend you, my Antiphila : 
 Happy, that you have made it ftill your care, 
 That virtue mould feem fair as beauty in you ! 
 Nor, gracious Heav'n fo help me, do I wonder 
 If ev'ry man mould wifh you for his own ; 
 For your difcourfe befpeaks a worthy mind. 
 And when I ponder with myfelf, and weigh 
 Your courfe of life, and all the reft of thofe 
 Who live not on the common, 'tis not ftrange, 
 Your morals mould be different from our's. 
 Virtue's your int'reft; thofe, with whom we deal, 
 Forbid it to be our's : For our gallants, 
 Charm'd by our beauty, court us but for That ; 
 Which fading, they transfer their love to others. 
 If then meanwhile we look not to ourfelves, 
 We live forlorn, deferted, and diftreft. 
 Yon, when you've once agreed to pafs your life 
 Bound to one man, whofe temper fuits with your's, 
 He too attaches his whole heart to you : 
 Thus mutual friendlhip draws you each to each ; 
 
 Nothing
 
 262 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Nothing can part you, nothing fhake your love. 
 
 Anti. * I know not others j for myfelf I know, 
 From his content I ever drew my own. 
 
 Clin. overbearing.'] Excellent maid! my beft An- - 
 
 tiphila ! 
 
 Thou too, thy love alone is now the caufe 
 That brings me to my native land again. 
 For when away, all evils elfe were light 
 Compared to wanting thee. 
 
 Syrus. I do believe it. 
 
 Clin. fO Syrus, 'tis too much: I cannot bear it. 
 Wretch that I am ! and muft I be dcbarr'd 
 To give a loofe to love, a love like this ? 
 
 Syrus. And yet if I may judge your father's mind, 
 He has more troubles yet in ftore for you. 
 
 Bacch. Who is that youth that eyes us ? [feeing C\m. 
 
 Anti. Ha! [feeing him.'] Support me ! 
 
 * / knoia not others, &c.J trary to the authority of all edi- 
 The character of Antiphila is tions and MSS. adopts a con- 
 here' finely drawn, and repre- ceit of her father's in this place, 
 fents innocence in perfection, and places this fpcech to Cli- 
 There is nothing of conftraint tipho, whom me fuppofes to 
 or emulation in her virtue, nor have retired to a hiding-place, 
 is me influenced by any confide- where he might over- hear the 
 ration of the miferies likely to converfation, and from whence 
 attend loofenefs or debauchery, hepeepsout to make this fpeech 
 but purely by a natural biafs to to Syrus. This ihe calls an 
 virtue. DACUR. agreeable jtu de theatre, and 
 doubts not but all lovers of Te- 
 
 f Cllr.ia, O Syrus, 'tis too rence will be obliged to her fa- 
 
 muih.] Madam Dacier, con- ther for fo ingenious a remark : 
 
 but
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 263 
 
 Baccb. Blefs me, what now ? 
 
 Anti. I faint. 
 
 Baccb. Alas, poor foul ! 
 What is't furprizes you, Antiphila ? 
 
 Anti. Is't Clinia that I fee, or no ? 
 
 Baccb. Whom do you fee ? 
 
 Clin. Welcome my foul ! [running up to her. 
 
 Anti. My wifh'd-for Clinia, welcome ! 
 
 Clin. How fares my love ? 
 
 Anti. O'erjoy'd at your return. 
 
 Clin. And do I hold thee, my Antiphila, 
 Thou only wifh, and comfort of my foul ? 
 
 Syrus. In, in, for you have made our good man 
 wait. \JLxeunt. 
 
 but it is to be feared that criti- 
 cal fagacity will not be fo lavifh 
 of acknowledgments as filial 
 piety. There does not appear 
 the leafl foundation for this re- 
 mark in the fcene, nor has the 
 Poet given us the lead room to 
 doubt of Clitipho being aftu- 
 ally departed. To me, inftead 
 
 of an agreeable jeu de t/xaire, 
 it appears a molt abfurd and ri- 
 diculous device ; particularly 
 vicious in this place, as it moft 
 injudicioufly tends to interrupt 
 the courfe of Clinia's more in- 
 terelling paffion, fo admirably 
 delineated in this little fcene. 
 
 ACT
 
 264 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 ACT III. SCENE I. 
 
 C H R E M E S. 
 
 T 
 
 IS now juft day-break.* Why delay I then 
 To call my neighbour forth, and be the fill! 
 
 To tell him of his fon's return ? The youth, 
 I underftand, would fain not have it fo. 
 
 * "Tit now juft day-break.} 
 lucefcit hoc jam. This is fpoken 
 with the eyes lifted up towards 
 heaven; hoc has reference to 
 cesium, which is underftood. 
 Thus Plautus in his Curculio. 
 Nam hoc quidem edepol baud multb 
 pojt luce lucebit. 
 
 It is beyond all doubt that 
 this play was a&ed at txvo dif- 
 ferent and diftinft times ; the 
 two firft a&s at night, after 
 fun--fet ; and the three remain- 
 ing acts the next morning, at 
 break of day: the time between 
 the fecond and third aft was 
 taken up with the caroufal and 
 fupper given by Chremes. Me- 
 nander, upon account of the 
 feafts then celebrating, had a 
 right to divide his comedy in 
 this manner: Terence took the 
 fame liberty, and with the fame 
 julljce, fince hi* plays were rc- 
 
 prefented atRome upon the like 
 folemn occafions. Eugraphius, 
 who wrote notes upon this co- 
 medy, was of opinion, that this 
 method was without precedent; 
 but heis miftaken. Ariftophanes 
 did the very fame thing; the two 
 firft adls of his Plutus were 
 performed in the evening, the 
 three laft early the next morn- 
 ing, and the time between the 
 fecond and third al is employ- 
 ed by Plutus in paying a vifit to 
 the temple of ^Efculapius, 
 where he pafles the whole night. 
 If we could precifely tell the 
 hour, at which Ariftophanes 
 opens his play, we fhould un- 
 doubtedly find he had not tranf- 
 grefled the unity of time (twelve 
 hours) which is requifite in dra- 
 matick pieces. It is at leaft 
 certain that Terence has not ex- 
 ceeded it here, and that he is
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 But fhall I, when I fee this poor old man 
 Afflidt himfelf fo grievoufly, by filencc 
 
 165 
 
 as exaft in this particular as in 
 every other. The play begins 
 a little after eight at night. The 
 two firft a&s do not laft above 
 two hours ; they then go to 
 fupper ; this makes an interval 
 of fix or feven hours. The 
 third aft begins at the break of 
 day, as Terence has taken care 
 to point out, luctfcit hoc jam; 
 *tis ncwjitft day- break. So that 
 the three adls, which could not 
 laft three hours, muft have 
 ended about feven in the morn- 
 ing. But what is chiefly re- 
 markable is, that this third in- 
 terval is interwoven with the 
 fubjecl matter of the play, as 
 well as it is in Ariftophanes. 
 Chremes, during that time, ob- 
 ferves the freedoms which pafs 
 between Clitipho and Bacc his ; 
 and this creates great part of 
 the bufmefs of the third ac~l. 
 The critics were little attentive 
 to this, when they cry out, 
 Vajia 3" bians & inanis comcedia 
 eft ; there is a iroid, a gap, an 
 emptineff in this comedy. Which 
 is far, very far from being true; 
 for what they call fo, has a 
 Very material connection with 
 the play, and may be faid to be 
 almoft the very ground work of 
 it. Had Terence divided it fo, 
 that this interval had not enter- 
 ed into the fubject, it would in- 
 VOL. I. 
 
 deed have been ridiculous and in- 
 fupportable. Were we toad one 
 of Moliere's plays thus by piece- 
 meal, the beginning to-night, 
 and the end to-morrow morn- 
 ing, every body would laugh at 
 the partition ; but Terence and 
 Menander, who were perfefl 
 matters of the drama, attempt- 
 ed it with fuccefs. And in- 
 deed it might even now-a-days 
 be done with propriety, nay, 
 would become neceflary, pro- 
 vided it could be executed with 
 equal judgment and addrefs. 
 DACIER. 
 
 The idea of the above note, 
 as well as of feveral others of 
 Madam Dacier, was firft fug- 
 gefted by Scaliger, who, in the 
 fixth book of his Poeticks, firft 
 broached the notion of thi? di- 
 vifion of the comedy in the re- 
 prefentation, in order to vindi- 
 cate our author from the impu- 
 tation of having left an unwar- 
 rantable chafm between the fe- 
 cond and third ads. And it if 
 fomething whimfical, that this 
 great critick, after having de- 
 preciated our author's merit in 
 the grofs, more than any of his 
 predeceflbrs, mould take it in- 
 to hishead to juftify him againft 
 every objection that had been 
 made to any particular paflage 
 in his works. Eat though 
 T Scaliger
 
 2 66 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Rob him of fuch an unexpected joy, 
 When the difcovery cannot hurt the fon ? 
 
 Scaliger was ever dogmatical 
 and pofitive in his opinion, yet 
 that opinion was not always 
 uncontrovcrtible : In the pre- 
 fent inftance I am fo far from 
 a/Tcnting with Madam Dacier, 
 that the fadt is beyond all doubt, 
 that I will venture to fay there 
 is not the leaft ground for fuch 
 an afiertion. Donatus, who 
 mentions this play in his pre- 
 face to the Phormio, does not 
 ;ifford the leaft colour to fuch 
 an argument ; nor do I believe 
 there is any more countenance 
 given to it by the fcholiafts on 
 Ariftophanes : whofe comedies 
 it would be an extremely diffi- 
 cult tafk to reconcile to an agree- 
 ment with the Unities. 
 
 One of the chief points in 
 difpute between Hedelin and 
 Menage, about this comedy, 
 relates to this interval ; and 
 great part of the controverfy 
 turns upon a very obfcure and 
 uncertain part of literature, viz. 
 whether the Athenian month 
 Anthefterion be agreeable to our 
 April or January. Both agree 
 that a night elapfes between the 
 fccond and third act ; but He- 
 delin, who is followed by Ma- 
 dam Dacier in the above note, 
 contends, that according to 
 the time of year, and circum- 
 ftancesof thepiece,it is an inter. 
 
 val of fix or feven hours, which* 
 Menage extends to thirteen or 
 fourteen. Each of them lays- 
 out a deal of learning on this 
 qucftion, but in my mind to- 
 very little purpofe. It is a- 
 greed on all hands, that a whole 
 night certainly pafles, and the 
 fpedlator has not time to enter 
 into a minute difquifition, 
 whether 'tis in June or Decem- 
 ber : nor indeed could any 
 thing fo direftly tend to make 
 the obfervation of the Unities 
 appear ridiculous, as fuch a 
 trifling confideration. As to 
 what Madam Dacier fays of this 
 interval's beinginterwoven with 
 the fubjeft ; and of the fuppof- 
 ed employments of the charac- 
 ters, in their abfence from the 
 ftage, being made conducive to 
 the fable, it is perfectly juft ; 
 and every fkilfull playwright 
 fhould contrive his intervals 
 with the like art. But to fill 
 up thofe chafms by occupying 
 the audience alfo in the fame 
 manner, is, I think, a more 
 curious device than any in the 
 Rehearfal. Madam Dacier her- 
 feif could not be infenfible of 
 the difficulty, and confefles that 
 a play of Moliere, fo divided 
 in the reprefentation, would 
 appear very ridiculous; yet is 
 willing to imagine that even a 
 modern
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 No, I'll not do't-, but far as in my pow'r 
 AfTift the father. As my fon, I feCj 
 Minifters to th' occafions of his friend, 
 A floriated in counfels, rank, and age, 
 So we old men mould ferve each other too. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Enter M E N E D E M U S.* 
 
 Mene. to himfelf.] Sure I'm by nature form'd for 
 mifcry 
 
 modern drama might be thus 
 exhibited with propriety. Let 
 Us fuppofe therefore that, at 
 the firft opening of the theatre 
 in the Haymarket, Sir John 
 Vanburgh had written a comedy, 
 in which he had introduced a 
 mafquerade at the end of the 
 fccond act. The fpeftators af- 
 femble : two afts are played : 
 then comes the mafquerade ; 
 and the fpedtators, in order to 
 fill up the interval, flip on their 
 dominos, game, drink, dance, 
 and intrigue till day-light. 
 With what appetite would they 
 return to the reprefentation of 
 the three laft acls ? However 
 fuch a partition might be re- 
 eived at Rome or Athens, I 
 
 think it would never go down 
 at Paris or London : and, were 
 it not for the example of Ma- 
 dam Dacier, I Jhould imagine 
 that even the moft rigid French 
 critick would think it more 
 reafonaWe to be wafted from 
 fhore to fhore by Shakefpeare's 
 chorus, than to adopt this ex- 
 traordinary method of preferv- 
 ing the Unities. 
 
 * Enter Menedmus.~\ Menede- 
 mus comes out of his houfe at 
 day-break to return to his 
 work ; for be has already de- 
 clared that he will allow him- 
 felf no refpite. This is well 
 conducted, DACIER. 
 
 Beyond
 
 SELfr-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Beyond the reft of humankind, or elfe 
 'Tis a falfe faying, though a common one, 
 " That time affuages grief." For ev'ry day 
 My forrow for the abfence of my fon 
 Grows on my mind : the longer he's away, 
 The more impatiently I wifh to fee him, 
 The more pine after him. 
 
 'Cbremes. But he's come forth, [feeing Menedemus, 
 Yonder he ftands. I'll go and fpeak with him. 
 Good morrow, neighbour ! I have news for you 5 
 Such news, as you'll be overjoy'd to hear. 
 
 Mene. Of my fon, Chremes ?* 
 
 Cbremes. He's alive and well. 
 
 Mene. Where ? 
 
 Chremes. At my houfe ? 
 
 Mene. My fon ? 
 
 Cbremes. Your fon. 
 
 Mene. Come home ? 
 
 Chremes. Come home. 
 
 Mene. My dear boy come ? myClihiaPf 
 
 Chremes. He. 
 
 * Of my fon, Cbremes?} Te- \ My dear lay come ? my 
 rencedifcovers uncommon judg- Ciinia ?] Thefe repetitions 
 ment in preferving his charac- are very natura i. There is a 
 ters. Menedemus, when he ff nke thjs in th<J 
 
 hears of good news, immedi- fourth aft of the c iyi of 
 ately enquires, if they relate to 
 hi fon, thinking nothing elfe 
 worthy his notice. PATRICK. 
 
 3 ..
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 269 
 
 Mene. Away then ! prithee, bring me to him. 
 
 Cbremes. Hold! 
 
 He cares not you mould know of his return, 
 And dreads your fight becaufe of his late trefpafs, 
 JFIe fears, befides, your old feverity 
 Is now augmented. 
 
 Mene. Did not you inform him * 
 The bent of my affeftions ? 
 
 Cbremes. Not I. 
 
 Mene. Wherefore, Chremes ? 
 
 Cbremes. Becaufe 'twould injure both yourfelf and 
 
 him, j 
 
 To feem of fuch a poor and broken fpirit. 
 
 Mene. I cannot help it. Too long, much too 
 
 long, 
 I've been a cruel father. 
 
 Cbremes. Ah, my friend, 
 You run into extremes ; too niggardly, 
 Or, too profufe -, imprudent cither way. 
 Firft, rather than permit him entertain 
 A miltrefs, who was then content with little, 
 And glad of any thing, you drove him hence ; 
 Whereon the girl was forc'd, againft her will, 
 To grow a common gamefter for her bread : 
 And now fhe can't be kept without much coft, 
 You'd fquander thoufands. For to let you know 
 
 T 3 How
 
 270 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 How admirably Madam's train'd to mifchief,* 
 How finely fonn'd to ruin her admirers, 
 She came to my houfe yefler-night with more 
 Than half a fcore of women at her tail, 
 Laden with cloaths and jewels. If me had 
 f A Prince to her gallant, he could not bear 
 Such wild extravagance : much lefs can You, 
 
 Mene. Is She within too ? 
 
 Chremes. She within ? Ay truly. 
 I've found it to my coft : for I have given 
 To her and her companions but one lupper ; 
 And to give fuch another would undo me. 
 For, not to dwell on other circumftances, 
 Merely to tafte, and fmack, and fpirt about, J 
 What quantities of wine has me confum'd ! 
 This is too rough, me cries , feme fofter, pray ! 
 I have pierc'd ev'ry vefiel, ev'ry cafk -, 
 Kept ev'ry fervant running to and fro : 
 All this ado, and all in one fhort night ! 
 
 * Hc-iu admirably Madam's, vinces ; who were generally 
 
 ?V.] Chremes takes Bacchis very rich, and fo many petty 
 
 for Clinia's miilrefs, and his kings in the eailern nations, 
 
 own fon is her real gallant. PATRICK. 
 This yew ft theatre is admirable. 
 
 DACIER. t *P' irt a bcut.~\ Pit't/ando. 
 Pififiart is a word originally 
 
 f A P.rlnce to Itr gallant.] Greek, and is, what we call, 
 
 Sutrapes ft f.ct amato,-. Sa- a verb of imitation, forits found 
 
 impes is originally a Hebrew very much refembles the noife 
 
 word, but in ufe too among irade by the action of fpirting 
 
 the Perfians, who ga\-c this title wine out of the mouth. PA- 
 
 tb che governors of their pro- TRTCK. 
 
 4 What,
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 271 
 
 What, Menedemus, muft become of You, 
 Whom they will prey upon continually ? 
 Now, afore heaven, thinking upon this, 
 I pitied you. 
 
 Mene. Why, let him have his willj * 
 Wafte, confume, fquander; I'll endure it all, 
 So I but keep him with me. 
 
 Chremes. Ifrefolv'd 
 
 To take that courfe, I hold it of great moment 
 That he perceive not you allow of this. 
 
 Mene. What mail I do then ? 
 
 Chremes. Any thing, much rather 
 Than what you mean to do : at fecond hand 
 Supply him; or permit his flave to trick you ; 
 Though I perceive they're on that fcent already, 
 And privately contriving how to do't. 
 There's Syrus, and that little flave of your's, 
 In an eternal whifper : the young men 
 Confuking too together : and it were 
 Better to lofe a Talent by thefe means, 
 Than on your plan a Mina : for at prefent 
 Money is not the queilion, but the means 
 To gratify the youth the fafeft way. 
 
 * Why, let him ba<vehis -Mill, ent offered by Chremes, which 
 
 ffr.] Here we have drawn in comes in very naturally, and 
 
 lively colours, the picture of infenfibly leads to the re- 
 
 a man hafty in running from maining part of the plot. PA ? 
 
 one extreme to another. This TRICK. 
 gives occaiion to the expedi- 
 
 T 4 For
 
 27* TI3E SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 for if he once perceives your turn of mind, 
 
 That you had rather throw away your life, 
 
 And wafte your whole eftate, than part with him, 
 
 Ah, what a window to debauchery 
 
 You'll open, Menedemus ! Such a one, 
 
 As will embitter even life itfelf ; 
 
 For too much liberty corrupts us all. 
 
 Whatever comes into his head, he'll have -, 
 
 Nor think, if his demand be right or wrong. 
 
 You, on your part, to fee your wealth and fon 
 
 Both wreck'd, will not be able to endure. 
 
 You'll not comply with his demands ; whereon 
 
 He falls to his old fence immediately, 
 
 And knowing where your weak part lies, will threaten 
 
 To leave you inftantly. 
 
 Mem. 'Tis very like. 
 
 Chr ernes. Now on my life I have not clos'd my 
 
 eyes,* 
 Nor had a fmgle wink of fieep this night, 
 
 * Have not clos'd my eyes, to reft ? or would Chremes have 
 
 &c.~\ Hedelin obHinately con- reproached (Jlitipho for his be- 
 
 tends from this paflage, that haviour the night before, had 
 
 neither Chremes, nor any of the feaft never been inter- 
 
 his family, went to bed the rupted? Eugraphius's interpre- 
 
 whole night ; the contrary of tation of thefe words is natural 
 
 which is evideqt, as Menage and obvious ; who explains 
 
 obferves, from the two next them to fignify that the anxiety 
 
 fcenes. For why fhould Syrus of Chremes to reftore Clinia 
 
 take notice of his being up fo to Menedemus broke his reft, 
 early, if he had never retired 
 
 For
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 373 
 
 For thinking how I might reftore your fon. 
 
 Mene. Give me your hand : and let me beg you, 
 
 Chremes, 
 Continue to aflift me ! 
 
 Chremes. Willingly. 
 
 Mene. D'ye know, what I would have you do at 
 prefent ? 
 
 Chremes. What? 
 
 Mene. Since you have perceiv'd they meditate 
 Some practice on me, prithee, urge them on 
 To execute it quickly: for I long 
 To grant his wifhes, long to fee him ftraight. 
 
 Chremes. Let me alone ! I muft lay hold of Syrus, 
 And give him fome encouragement. But fee ! 
 Some one, I know not who, comes forth : In, in,* 
 Left they perceive that we confult together ! 
 I have a little bufmefs too in hand. 
 Simus and Crito, our two neighbours here, 
 Have a difpute about their boundaries ; -J- 
 And they've referr'd it to my arbitration. 
 I'll go and tell them, 'tis not in my power 
 To wait on them, as I propos'd, to-day. 
 I will be with you prefently. 
 
 * In, in, &c.~\ Chremes f A difpule about their btund- 
 
 feizes this as a very plaufible aries.] This circumftance is 
 
 and necefTary pretence to engage a further confirmation that 
 
 Menedemus to return home, and the fcene lies in the coun- 
 
 not to his labour in the field, as try. 
 he had at firft intended. DAC. 
 
 Mene.
 
 2/4 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Mene. Pray do. \Exit Chremes. 
 
 Gods ! that the nature of mankind is fuch, 
 To lee, and judge of the affairs of others, 
 Much better than their own ! * Is't therefore fo, 
 Becaufe that, in our own concerns, we feel 
 The influence of joy or grief too nearly ? 
 How much more wifely does my neighbour here 
 Confult for me, than I do for myfelf ! 
 
 Chremes returning^} I've difengag'd myfelf, that I 
 
 might be 
 
 At leifure to attend on your affairs, [.// Mene. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Enter S YRU S at another part of the Stage. 
 
 Syrus to himfelf.'] One way, or other, money muft 
 
 be had, 
 
 And the old gentleman impos'd upon. 
 Chromes overhearing.} Was I deceiv'd, in thinking 
 
 they were at it ? 
 
 That (lave of Clinia, it mould feem, is dull, 
 And fo our Syrus has the part afllgn'd him. 
 
 fyrus. Who's there ? [feeing Chremes.] Undone, 
 if he has overheard me. 
 
 * Much better than their 01 '..] ous how applicable they are 
 Thcfe reflections have double to Chremes as well as Mene- 
 force, when thrown out to dtmus. 
 the audience, who are confci- 
 
 Ckremcs.
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR, 275 
 
 Chremes. Syrus ! 
 
 Syrus. Sir! 
 
 Chremes. What now ? 
 
 Syrus. Nothing. But I wonder 
 To fee you up fo early in the morning, 
 Who drank fo freely yefterday. 
 
 Chremes. Not much. 
 
 Syrus. Not much ? You have. Sir, as the proverb 
 
 goes, 
 The old age of an eagle.* 
 
 Cbremes. Ah ! 
 
 Syrus. A pleafant, 
 Good fort of girl, this wench of Clinia, 
 
 Chremes. Ay, fo fhe feems, 
 
 Syrus. And handfome. 
 
 Chremes. Well enough. 
 
 Syrus. fNot like the maids of old, but paffable, 
 As girls go now: nor am I much amaz'd 
 That Clinia doats upon her. But he has, 
 Alas, poor lad ! a miferable, clofe, 
 
 * The old age of an eagle, ,] \^ot like the maidi of old, fsV.J 
 Moft probably a proverb, fig- // non ut olim> &c. This is cer- 
 nifying a vigorous and lufly tainl y the truc meaning of the 
 
 old age, like that of the eagle; fente f e ' S > TUS artfull y flat ~ 
 ters the vanity of Chremes; old 
 
 who, as naturaluts lay, never ,, , 
 
 men are generally apt to think 
 
 dies of old age, and preferves every thing they haye feen or 
 
 its life by perpetual drink- heard in former times, far fur- 
 jng. pafles the productions of the 
 
 DACIER. PATRICK. prefent. DACIER. 
 
 Dry
 
 276 THE SELF-TORMENTOR, 
 
 Dry, covetous, curmudgeon to his father : 
 
 Our neighbour here; d'ye know him? Yet, as if 
 
 He did not roll in riches, his poor fon 
 
 Was forc'd to run away for very want. 
 
 D'ye know this ftory ? 
 
 Cbremes. Do I know it ? Ay. 
 A fcoundrel ! fliould be horfe-whipt. 
 
 Syria. Who ? 
 
 Chremes. That flave 
 Of Clinia 
 
 Syria. Troth, I trembled for you, Syrus ! [afidc, 
 
 Cbremes. Who fuffer'd this. 
 
 Syrus. Why what mould he have done ? 
 
 Cbremes. What ? have devis'd fome fcheme, fomc 
 
 ways and means, 
 
 To raife the cafh for the young gentleman 
 To make his miftrefs prefents ; and have done 
 A kindnefs to the old hunks againft his will. 
 
 Syrus. Youjeft, 
 
 Cbremes. Not I : it was his duty, Syrus. 
 
 Syrus. How's this ? why prithee then, d'ye praifc 
 
 thofe flaves, 
 Who trick their mailers ? 
 
 Chremes. Tes, upon occafion, 
 
 Syrus. Mighty fine, truly ! 
 
 Cbremes. Why, it oft prevents 
 A great deal of uneafmefs : for inftance, 
 
 My
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 277 
 
 My neighbour Menedemus, well deceiv'd, 
 Would ne'er have feen his fon abandon him. 
 
 Syrus. I don't know whether he's in jeft or earneft, 
 But it gives me encouragement to trick him. \afide. 
 
 Cbremes. And now what is't the blockhead waits 
 
 for> Syrus ? 
 
 Is't, till his mafter runs away again, 
 When he perceives himfelf no longer able 
 To bear with the expences of his miftrefs ? 
 Has he no plot upon th* old gentleman ? 
 
 Syrus. He's a poor creature. 
 
 Cbremes. But it is your part, 
 For Clinia's fake, to lend a helping hand. 
 
 Syrus. Why that indeed I eafily can do, 
 If you command me j for I know which way. 
 
 Cbremes. I take you at your word. 
 
 Syrus. I'll make it good. 
 
 Cbremes. Do fo. 
 
 Syrus. But hark ye, Sir ! remember this, 
 If ever it hereafter come to pafs, 
 As who can anfwer for th' affairs of men ? 
 That your own ion 
 
 Cbremes. I hope 'twill never be. 
 
 Syrus. I hope fo too -, nor do I mention this, 
 From any knowledge or fufpicion of him : 
 But that in cafe his time of life, you know-, 
 And mould there be occafion, truft me, Chremes, 
 
 But
 
 278 THE SELF-TORMENTOrv. 
 
 But I could handle you moft handfomely. 
 
 Chremes. Well, well, well think of it, when that 
 
 time comes. 
 Now to your prefent tafk ! [Exit Chremes, 
 
 SCENE IV, 
 S Y R U S atone. 
 
 I never heard 
 
 My mafter argue more commodioufly ; 
 Nor ever was inclin'd to mifchief, when 
 It might be done with more impunity. 
 But who's this coming from our houfe ? 
 
 SCENE V. 
 Enter CLITIPHO, CHREMES following. 
 
 Chremes. How now ? 
 
 What manners are thefe, Clitipho? Does this 
 Become you ? 
 
 Clit. What's the matter ? 
 
 Chremes. Did not I 
 
 This very inftant fee you put your hand 
 Into yon wench's bofom ? 
 
 Syrus. So ! all's over : 
 I am undone, [aJSek. 
 
 Clit.
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR, 279 
 
 Clit. Me, Sir ? 
 
 Chremcs. Thefe very eyes 
 Beheld you : don't deny it. 'Tis bafe in you * 
 To be fo flippant with your hands. For what 
 Affront's more grofs, than to receive a friend 
 Under your roof, and tamper with his miftrefs ? 
 And laft night in your cups too how indecent, 
 And rudely you behav'd ! 
 
 Syrus. 'Tis very true. 
 
 Cbremes. So very troublefome, fo help me, heav'n, 
 I fear'd the confequence. I know the ways 
 Of lovers : they oft take offence at things, 
 You dream not of. 
 
 Clit. But my companion, Sir, 
 Is confident I would not wrong him; 
 
 Clrcmcs. Granted. 
 
 Yet you mould ceafe to hang for ever on them. 
 Withdraw, and leave them fomctimes to themfelves. 
 Love lias a thoufand fallies j you reilrain them. 
 I can conjecture from myfelf. There's none, 
 How near foever, Clitipho, to whom 
 I dare lay open all my weaknefles. 
 With one my price forbids it, with another 
 The very action fliames me : and believe me, 
 It is the fame with Him; and 'tis our place 
 
 To mark on what occafions to indulge him. 
 
 t> 
 
 Syrus. What fays He now ? [afidc. 
 
 Clit. Confufion ! 
 
 Syr**
 
 280 THE SELF-TORMENTOR, 
 
 Syrus. Clitipho, 
 
 Thefe are the very precepts that I gave you : 
 And how difcreet and temperate you've been ! 
 
 Clit. Prithee, peace ! 
 
 Syrus y Ay, I warrant you. 
 
 Cbrcmes. Oh, Syrus, 
 I'm quite amam'd of him. 
 
 Syrus. I do not doubt it. 
 Nor without reafon ^ for it troubles Me, 
 
 Clit. Still, rafcal? 
 
 Syrus. Nay, I do but fpeak the truth. 
 
 Clit. May I not then go near them ? 
 
 Chremcs. Prithee, then, 
 Is there one way alone of going near them ? 
 
 Syrus. Confuiion ! he'll betray himfelf, before 
 I get the money, \afide. ~\ Chremes, will you once 
 Hear a fool's counfel? 
 
 Chremes. What do you advife ? 
 
 Syrus. Order your fon about his bufmefs. 
 
 Clit. Whither ? ' 
 
 Syrus. Whither ? where'er you pleafe. Give place 
 
 to Them. 
 Go, take a walk. 
 
 Clit. Walk! where? 
 
 Syrus. A pretty queftion ' 
 This, that, or any way. 
 
 Chremes. He fays right. Go ! 
 
 Clit.
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 281 
 
 Uit. Now, plague upon you, Syrus ! [gcing. 
 Syrus to Clit. going.'] Henceforth, learn 
 To keep thofe hands of yours at reft. [Exit Clitipho. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 CHREMES, SYRUS. 
 
 Syrus. D'ye mind? 
 
 What think you, Chremes, will become of hirr^ 
 Unlefs you do your utmoft to preferve, 
 Correct, and counfel him ? 
 
 Chremes, I'll take due care. 
 
 Syrus. But now's your time, Sir, to look after him, 
 
 Chremes. It mall be done. 
 
 Syrus. It muft be, if you're wife : 
 For ev'ry day he minds Me lefs and lefs. 
 
 Cbremes. But, Syrus, fay, what progrefs have you 
 
 made 
 
 In that affair I juft now mention'd to you ? 
 Have you ftruck out a fcheme, that pleafes you ? 
 Or are you ftill to feek ? 
 
 Syrus. The plot, you mean, 
 On Menedemus. I've juft hit on one. 
 
 Cbretnes. Good fellow ! prithee now, what is't ? 
 Syrus. I'll tell you. 
 But as one thing brings in another . 
 
 VOL, I, U Clremcs,
 
 282 THE SELF-TORMENTOR,- 
 
 Chremes. Well ? 
 
 Syrus. This Bacchis is a fad jade. 
 
 Chremes. So it feems. 
 
 Syrus. Ay, Sir, if you knew all! nay, even now 
 She's hatching mifchief. Dwelling hereabouts, 
 There was of late an old Corinthian woman, 
 To whom this Bacchis lent a thoufand pieces. 
 
 Chremes. What then ? 
 
 Syrus. The woman's dead ; and left behind 
 A daughter, very young, whom me bequeath'd, 
 By way of pledge, to Bacchis for the money. 
 
 Cbremes. I underftand. 
 
 Syrus. This girl came here with Bacchis, 
 And now is with your wife.* 
 
 Chremes. What then ? 
 
 Syrus. She begs 
 
 Of Clinia to advance the cam , for which 
 She'll give the girl as an equivalent. 
 She wants the thoufand pieces. 
 
 Chremes. Does me fo ? 
 
 Syrus. No doubt on't. 
 
 Chremes. So I thought. And what do you 
 Intend to do ? 
 
 * dad now it with jew wife.] women at the feaft, who were 
 
 Antiphila is fhortly to be ac- no othernhan courtezans, but 
 
 knowledged as the daughter with the wife of Chremes, and 
 
 of Chremes. She is not there- confequently free from reproach 
 
 fore in company with the other or fcandal. DACIER. 
 
 2 Syrus*
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 283 
 
 Syrus. Who ? I, Sir ? I'll away 
 To Mencdemus prefently; and tell him 
 This maiden is a rich and noble captive, 
 Stolen from Caria; and to ranfom her 
 Will greatly profit him. 
 
 Chremes. 'Twill never do. 
 
 Syrus. How fo ? 
 
 Chremes. I anlwer now for Menedemus. 
 / will not pur chafe her. What fay you now ? 
 
 Syrus. Give a more favourable anfwer ! 
 
 Chremes. No, 
 There's no occafion.* 
 
 * There's no occajion.'] Chremes 
 is not allowed here to explain 
 himfelf, being prevented by the 
 coming of his wife ; nor have 
 any of the commentators given 
 themfelves the trouble to do it 
 for him. What feems moft 
 probable to me is this. He 
 finds that Bacchis makes a de- 
 mand of ten minze, and offers 
 Antiphila as a pledge for it ; a 
 bargain by which he was fure 
 to lofe nothing, and wherein 
 Bacchis could not deceive him, 
 the girl being already in his 
 pofleflion. It is therefore like- 
 ly that he intended to advance 
 the money on thofc conditions 
 himfelf. DACIER. 
 
 The above conjecture of Ma- 
 dam Dacier would be a very 
 ingenious way of accounting 
 
 for a man's conduct in thefe cir- 
 cumftances in real life ; but in 
 a play where the fource of every 
 adlion is induftrioufly laid 
 open by the poet, had this been 
 the intention of Chremes, I 
 fhould think it would have been 
 expreft, and the motive, that 
 influenced him to it, alfo af- 
 figned. The following note on 
 this fcene gives a much better 
 account of this conference be- 
 tween Chremes and Syrus, and 
 fhews of how much ufe it is in 
 the enfuing part of the fable. 
 
 " Syrus pretends to have con- 
 " certed this plot again ft Mene- 
 " demus, in order to trick him 
 " out of fome money to be 
 ' given to Clinia's fuppofed 
 ' miftrefs. Chremes, how- 
 " ever, does not approve of 
 U 2 " this :
 
 284 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Syrus. No occafion ? 
 
 Cbremes. No. 
 
 Syrus. I cannot comprehend you. 
 
 Cbremes. I'll explain. 
 But hold ! what now ? whence comes it, that onr 
 
 door 
 Opens fo haftily ? 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 
 Enter at a diftance SOSTRATA with a 
 and the Nurfe. 
 
 Sqftra. I'm much deceiv'd, 
 Or this is certainly the very ring , 
 The ring, with which my daughter was expos'd. 
 
 Cbremes to Syrus behind.] What can thofe words 
 mean, Syrus ? 
 
 Softra. Tell me, Nurfe \ 
 Does it appear to You to be the fame ? 
 
 Nurfe. Ay, marry : and the very moment that 
 You fhew'd it me, I faid it was the fame. 
 
 Softra. But have you thoroughly examin'd, Nurfe ? 
 
 Nurfe. Ay, thoroughly. 
 
 this : yet it ferves to carry " debtor of Bacchis, and i 
 on the plot; for when An- " obliged to lay down the fum 
 tiphila proves afterwards to " for which he imagines hi* 
 be the daughter of Chremes, ' daughter was pledged." Eu 
 he neceflarily becomes the GRAPHIUS. 
 
 Sojlra.
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 285 
 
 Softra. In then, and let me know 
 If lite has yet done bathing j and meanwhile 
 I'll wait my hufband here. [Exit Nurfe. 
 
 Syrus. She wants you, Sir ! 
 
 Enquire, what me would have. She's very grave. 
 'Tis not for nothing; and I fear the caufc. 
 
 Chremes. The caufe ? pfhaw ! nothing. She'll take 
 
 mighty pains 
 TO be deliver'd of fome mighty trifle. 
 
 Softra. feeing them.'] Oh hufband ! 
 
 Chremes. Oh wife ! 
 
 Softra. I was looking for you. 
 
 Cbr ernes. Your pleafure ? 
 
 Softra. Firft, I muft intreat you then, 
 Believe, I would not dare do any thing 
 Againft your order. 
 
 Chremes. What ! muft I believe 
 A thing paft all belief ? I do believe it. 
 
 Syrus. This exculpation bodes fome fault, I'm fure. 
 
 [afde. 
 
 Softra. Do you remember, I was pregnant once, 
 When you aflur'd me with much earneftnefs, 
 That if I were deliver'd of a girl, 
 You would not have the child brought up ? 
 
 Chremes. I know 
 
 What you have done. You have brought up the 
 child. 
 
 U 3 Syrus.
 
 286 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Syrus. Madam, if fo, my mailer gains a lofs.* 
 
 Scftra. No, I have not: but there was at that time 
 An old Corinthian woman dwelling here, 
 To whom I gave the child to be expos'd. 
 
 Cbrcmes. Oh Jupiter ! was ever fuch a fool ! 
 
 Softra. Ah, what have I committed ? 
 
 Cbrcmes. What committed ? 
 
 Softra. If I've offended, Chremes, 'tis a crime 
 Of ignorance, and nothing of my purpofe. 
 
 Chremes. Own it, or not, I know it well enough, 
 That ignorantly, and imprudently, 
 You do and fay all things : how many faults 
 In this one action are you guilty of? 
 For firft, had you complied with my commands, 
 The girl had been difpatch'djf and not her death 
 
 * Madam, if fo, my mafter the manner of the original, 
 gains a lofs.} Si fie fafium eft, gains a lofs. Some think by 
 domina, ergo berus DAM NO AUC- his mzftcr is meant Clitipho, 
 TUS eft. The moft indifferent others Chremes. Eugraphius 
 parts of an author commonly explains the words to fignify 
 give the moft trouble. The that Clitipho will be a lofer by 
 fenfe of the original being fome- a new-found fifter, who will be 
 what dark, and the Deft con- co-heirefs ; and others will 
 ftruftion not very elegant, fe- have them to imply the lofs to 
 veral attempts have been made befuftained by Chremes in pay- 
 to amend and alter the text. In ing Antiphila's portion, 
 this, as in moft other cafes, I 
 
 believe the common reading to f The girl had Ittn dif- 
 
 be the right ; and that it con- patched.] One cannot avoid be- 
 
 tains nothing mere than a con- ing feized with a kind of hbr- 
 
 ceit from the flave, founded on ror, to think that, in a country 
 
 the words damno auQus, which I fo polite as Greece, men mould 
 
 have endeavoured to render in be fo barbarous, as to murder 
 
 their
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 287 
 
 Pretended, and hopes given of her life. 
 
 But that I do not dwell upon : You'll cry, 
 
 " Pity, a mother's fondnefs." I allow it. 
 
 But then how rarely you provided for her! 
 
 What could you mean? confider! for 'tis plain, , 
 
 You have betray'd your child to that old beldam, 
 
 Either for proftimtion or for fale. 
 
 So me but liv'd, it was enough, you thought : 
 
 No matter how, or what vile life me led. 
 
 What can one do, or how proceed, with thofe, 
 
 Who know of neither reafon, right, nor juftice ? 
 
 Better or worfe, for or againft, they fee 
 
 Nothing but what they lift. 
 
 Softra. My deareft Chremes, 
 I own I have offended : I'm convinc'd. 
 But fmce you're more experienced than myfelf, 
 I pray you be the more indulgent too, 
 And let my weaknefs flicker in your juftice. 
 
 Chremes. Well, well, I pardon you : but, Softrata, 
 Forgiving you thus eafily, I do 
 But teach you to offend again. But come, 
 Say, wherefore you begun this ? 
 
 their own children without re- ders, but even of expofing 
 
 morfe, when they imagined it children. But philofophy is 
 
 to be for the intereft of their always weak and unavailing, 
 
 family. Philofophy had lonf 'vhen oppofed to cuftoms au- 
 
 before this demonftrated the thorized by long ufage. PA- 
 
 horror, not only of thefe mur- TRICK. 
 
 U 4 Softra.
 
 i8S THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Softra. As we women 
 Are generally weak and fuperftitious, 
 When firft to this Corinthian old woman 
 I gave the little infant, from my finger 
 I drew a ring, and charg'd her to expofe 
 That with my daughter: that if chance (he died, 
 *She mighchave part of our pofTeflions with her. 
 
 Ckrcmes. f'Twas right: you thus preferv'd your- 
 felf and her. 
 
 Softra. This is that ring, 
 
 Cbremes. Where had it you ? 
 
 Softra. The girl 
 That Bacchis brought with her 
 
 Syrus. Ha! [afide. 
 
 Chr ernes. WJiat fays She ? 
 
 * She m':gkt have part of our 
 jcjfcjficns.'] ' The antients ima- 
 gined they were guilty of a 
 moll heinous crime, if they fuf- 
 fered their children to die, 
 without having pofiefled fome 
 part of their fortune : the wo- 
 men therefore, who are gene- 
 rally fuperftitious, when they 
 expofed their children, put fome 
 jewel or other trinket among 
 their cloaths, by this means 
 thinking to difcharge their 
 claim of inheritance, and to 
 clear their own confcience. 
 DACIER. 
 
 f 'Tkvat fight : you that pr:~ 
 ferv'd, sV.] The meaning of 
 this paflage is this. Chremes 
 tells his wife, that by having 
 given this ring, me had done 
 two good afts inftead of one j 
 me had cleared her confcience, 
 andpreferved her child; for had 
 there been no ring or other 
 token among the infant's things, 
 the finder would fcarce have 
 been at the trouble of taking 
 care of her, but might have left 
 her to perifh, never fufpefting 
 me would ever be enquired 
 after, or themfelves liberally 
 rewarded for their pains of pre- 
 fervingher. DACIER. 
 
 Sofra,
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 289 
 
 Softra. Defir'd I'd keep it while fhe went to bathe.* 
 I took no notice on't at firft ; but I 
 No fooner look'd on't, than I knew*t again, 
 And ftraight run out to you. 
 
 Chremes. And what d'ye think, 
 Or know concerning her ? 
 
 Softra. I cannot tell, 
 Till you enquire of herfelf, and find, 
 If poflible, from whence me had the ring. 
 
 Syrus. Undone ! I fee more hope than I defire.-f- 
 She's our's, if this be fo. [afide. 
 
 Chremes. Is (he alive 
 To whom you gave the child ? 
 
 Softra. I do not know. 
 
 Cbremes. What did (he tell you formerly ? 
 
 Softra. That fhe 
 Had done what I commanded her. 
 
 Cbremes. Her name ; 
 That we may make enquiry, 
 
 Softra. Philtere. 
 
 * While Jbe "juent to lathe.'} f Undone! &c.] Syrus is 
 
 Hedelin is grofly miftaken in alarmed, fearing that, by the 
 
 faying that Antiphila bathed difcovery of Antiphila, their 
 
 during the fourth aft. It is fo , ot Qn Menedemus would ^ 
 
 far from true, that, in the be- , , , , , r 
 
 . . c .. r baffled, and their impofition on 
 ginning of this fcene, Softrata 
 
 fends the nurfe to fee if And- Chremes deteded. EUGRA- 
 
 phila was not already come out PHIUS. 
 of the bath. DACIER. 
 
 Syrus.
 
 290 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Syrus. The very fame! ihe's found, and I am loft, 
 
 \apde. 
 
 Cbrcpies. In with me, Soflrata ! 
 
 Softra. Beyond my hopes. 
 How much I fear'd you mould continue ftill 
 So rigidly inclin'd, as formerly, 
 When you refus'd to educate her, Chremes ! 
 
 Chr ernes. Men cannot always be, as they defire,* 
 But muft be govern'd by their fortunes -ftill. 
 The times are alten'd with me, and I wifh 
 To have a daughter now ; then, nothing lefs. -f 
 
 * Men cannot always, 5V.] 
 This he fays by way of palli- 
 ating the cruelty of his former 
 orders to put the child to death. 
 DACIER. 
 
 f Then, nothing left.] Here 
 ends the aft, and, by the dif- 
 covery of Antiphila, to all ap- 
 pearance, the main Itory of the 
 piece. The following obfer- 
 vation on the great art of our 
 
 poet, in continuing it through 
 two afts more, is extremely juft 
 and ingenious. 
 
 " What would become of the 
 piece which Terence has cal- 
 led the Self-Tormentor, if 
 the poet, by an extraordinary 
 effort of genius, had not 
 contriv'd to take up the ftory 
 of Clinia anew, and to weave 
 it in with the intrigue of Cli- 
 tipho f " DIDEROT. 
 
 ACT
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 ********* 'I' * > : * * >** * I' * * it; * * ********* 
 
 A C T IV. SCENE I. 
 
 S Y R U S 
 
 MY mind rnifgives me, my defeat is nigh.* 
 This unexpected incident has driven 
 My forces into fuch a narrow pafs, 
 I cannot even handfomely retreat 
 Without fome feint, to hinder our old man 
 From feeing that this wench is Clitipho's. 
 As for the money, and the trick I dreamt of, 
 
 * My mind, &c.] Madam 
 Dacier, and moft of the later 
 criiicks who have implicitly 
 followed her, tell us, that, in 
 the interval between the third 
 and fourth ads, Syrus has been 
 prefent at the interview be- 
 tween Chremes and Antiphila 
 within. The only difficulty in 
 this doftrine is how to recon- 
 cile it to the apparent ignorance 
 cf Syrus, which he difcovers at 
 the entrance of Clinia. But 
 this objection, fays fhe, is eafily 
 'anfwered. Syrus having partly 
 heard Antiphila's ftory, and 
 finding things likely to take an 
 unfavourable turn, retires to 
 confider what is beft to be done. 
 
 But furely this is a moft unna- 
 tural impatience at fo critical 
 a juncture: and after all, would 
 it not be better to take up the 
 matter juft where Terence has 
 left it, and to fuppofe that 
 Syrus knew nothing more of 
 the affair than what might be 
 collected from the late conver- 
 fation between Chremes and 
 Soflrata, at which we know 
 he was prefent ? This at once 
 accounts for his apprchenfi- 
 ons, which he betrayed even 
 during that fcene, as well as 
 for his imperfeft knowledge of 
 the real ftate of the cafe, till 
 apprized of the whole by Clinia. 
 
 Thofe
 
 292 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Thofe hopes are flown, and I mall hold it triumph, 
 So I but 'fcape a fcouring. Curfed Fortune, 
 To have fo delicate a morfel fnatch'd 
 Out of my very jaws ! What fhall I do ? 
 What new device? for I muft change my plan, 
 Nothing fo difficult, but may be won 
 By induftry. Suppofe, I try it thus. {thinking, 
 'Twill never do. Or thus ? No better ftill. 
 But thus I think. No, no. Yes, excellent ! 
 Courage! I have it. Good! Good! Beft pf all! 
 'Faith, I begin to hope to lay faft hold 
 Of that fame flipp'ry money after all. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Enter CLINIA at another part of the Stage. 
 
 Clin. Henceforward, Fate, do with me what thou 
 
 wilt ! 
 
 Such is my joy, fo full and abfolute, 
 I cannot know vexation. From this hour 
 To you, my father, I refign myfelf, 
 Content to be more frugal than you wifh ! 
 
 Syrus, overbearing.] 'Tis juft as I fuppos'd. The 
 
 girl's acknowledg'd ; 
 
 His raptures fpeak it fo. \jping up.] I'm overjoy'd, 
 That things have happen'd to your wilh. 
 Clin. O Syrus ! 
 
 i Have
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 293 
 
 Have You then heard it too ? 
 
 Syrus. Undoubtedly. 
 I, who was prefent at the very time ! 
 
 Clin. Was ever any thing fb lucky ? 
 
 Syrus. Nothing. 
 
 Clin. Now, heav'n fo help me, I rejoice at this 
 On her account much rather than my own, 
 Her, whom I know worthy the higheft honours. 
 
 Syrus. No doubt on't But now, Clinia, hold awhile ! 
 Give me a moment's hearing in my turn. 
 For your friend's bufmefs muft be thought of now* 
 And well fecur'd -, left our old gentleman 
 Sufpedb about the wench. 
 
 Clin. O Jupiter ! [in raptures. 
 
 Syrus. Peace! [impatiently. 
 
 Clin. My Antiphila mail be my wife. 
 
 Syrus. And will you interrupt me ? 
 
 Clin. Oh, my Syrus, 
 What can I do? I'm overjoy'd. Bear with me, 
 
 Syrus. Troth, fo I do. 
 
 Clin. We're happy, as the Gods. 
 
 Syrus. I lefe my labour on you. 
 
 Clin. Speak -, I hear. 
 
 Syrus. Ay, but you don't attend, 
 
 Clin. I'm all attention. 
 
 Syrus. I fay then, Clinia, that your friend's affairs 
 Muft be attended to, and well fecur'd : 
 For if you now depart abruptly from us. 
 
 And
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 And leave the wench upon our hands, my matter 
 Will inftantly difcover, fhe belongs 
 To Clitipho. But if you take her off, 
 It will remain, as ftill it is, a fecret. 
 
 Clin. But, Syrus, this is flatly oppofite 
 To what I moft devoutly wifh, my marriage. 
 For with what face fhall I accoft my father ? 
 D'ye underftand me ? 
 
 Syrus. Ay. 
 
 Clin. What can I fay ? 
 What reafon can I give him ? 
 
 Syrus. Tell no lie. 
 Speak the plain truth. 
 . Clin. How ? 
 
 Syrus. Every fyllable. 
 Tell him your pafiion for Antiphila ; 
 Tell him you wilh to marry her, and tell him, 
 Bacchis belongs to Clitipho. 
 
 Clin. 'Tiswell, 
 
 In reafon, and may eafily be done : 
 And then befides, you'd have me win my father, 
 To keep it hid from your old gentleman ? 
 
 Syrus. No; rather to prevail on him, to go 
 And tell him the whole truth immediately. 
 
 Clin. How? are you mad or drunk? You'll be 
 
 the ruin 
 Of Clitipho: for how can he be fafe? 
 
 Eh;
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 295 
 
 Eh, Sirrah! 
 
 Syrus. That's my mafterpiece : This plot 
 Is my chief glory, and Prn proud to think 
 I have fuch force, fuch pov/'r of cunning in me, 
 As to be able to deceive them both, 
 By fpeaking the plain truth : that when your father 
 Tells Chremes, Bacchis is his own fon's miftrefs, 
 He fhan't believe it. 
 
 Ctin. But that way again 
 
 You blaft my hopes of marriage : for while Chremes 
 Suppofes her my miftrefs, he'll not grant 
 His daughter to me. You, perhaps, don't care, 
 So you provide for him, what comes of me. 
 
 Syrus. Why, plague! d'ye think I'd have you 
 
 counterfeit 
 
 For ever ? but a day, to give me time 
 To bubble Chremes of the money. Peace ! 
 Not an hour more. 
 
 Clin. Is that fufficient for you ? 
 But then, fuppofe, his father find it out ! 
 
 Syrus. * Suppofe, as fome folks fay, the fky mould 
 fall ! 
 
 There is a remarkable paflage " that they feared, left the 
 
 in Arrian's account of Alex- " fky fhould fall." Alexander, 
 
 ander, lib. 4. where he tells who expeded to hear himfelf 
 
 us that fome embafladors from named, was furprifed at an an- 
 
 theCelta;, being alked by Alex- fwer, which fignified that they 
 
 ander, what in the world they thought themfelves beyond the 
 
 dreaded molt, anfwered atftew, reach of all human power, 
 
 plainly
 
 2 9 6 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Clin. Still I'm afraid. 
 
 Syrus. Afraid indeed ! as if 
 It were not in your pow'r, whene'er you pleas'd, 
 To clear yourfelf, and tell the whole affair. 
 
 Clin. Well, well, let Bacchis be brought over then ! 
 
 Syrus. Well faid ! and here fhe comes. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Enter BACCHIS, PHRYGIA, fcfc. at another 
 Part of the Stage. 
 
 Bacch. Upon my life, 
 This Syrus with his golden proinifes 
 Has fool'd me hither charmingly ! Ten Minse 
 He gave me full afTurance of: but if 
 He now deceives me, come whene'er he will, 
 Canting and fawning to allure me hither, 
 It mail be all in vain , I will not ftir. 
 Or when I have agreed, and fix'd a time, 
 Of which hefliall have giv'n his mafter notice, 
 And Clitipho is all agog with hope, 
 I'll fairly jilt them both, and not come near them 5 
 And mafter Syrus' back mall fmart for it. 
 
 Clin. She promifes you very fair. 
 
 plainly implying that nothing or a total deftru&ion of nature, 
 could hurt them, unlefs he PATRICK. 
 would fuppofe impoffibilities, 
 
 Syr US:
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 297 
 
 Syrus. D'ye think 
 She jells? She'll do it, if I don't take heed, 
 
 Baccb. Theyfleep: i'faith, I'll roufe them.* Hark 
 
 ye, Phrygia, 
 
 Did you obierve the villa of Charinus, -\- 
 Which yonder fellow fhew'd us ? [aloud. 
 
 Phry. I did, Madam. 
 
 Bacch. The next upon the right. {aloud, 
 
 Phry. I recoiled. 
 
 Bacch. Run thither quickly: for the Captain fpends 
 TheDionyfia there. {alcud. 
 
 Syrus, behind.] What means me now ? 
 
 Bacch. Tell him I'm here , and fore againit my will, 
 Detain'd by force : but I'll devife fome means 
 To flip away and come to him. [aloud. 
 
 Syrus. Confufion ! {ccmss forward. 
 
 Stay, Bacchis, Bacchis ! where d'ye fend that girl ? 
 Bid her ftop ! 
 
 Baccb. Go ! {to Phrygia. 
 
 Syrus. The money's ready for you. 
 
 ffaitb Til wife f Tbt villa efCJsarinus*] Vil* 
 
 them.] Dortniunt ; ego pel iftcs lam Charlni. This paflbge alone 
 
 commoi:tbo: Hedelin interprets is a fufficient proof that the 
 
 thefe words literally ; but fure- fcaft of Bacchus, mentioned iu 
 
 ly nothing can be more plain, this play, was the Diomjla in 
 
 from the whole tenor ,of the the Jlelds and confequently 
 
 fcene, than that they are mere- that the fcene is not laid in A- 
 
 ly metaphorical, as Menage thens, but in the country. DA- 
 
 jultly argues. CIER. 
 
 VOL. I. X Baccb.
 
 298 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Baccb. Oh ! then I flay. [Phrygia returns. 
 
 Syrus. You fhall be paid direftly. 
 
 Baccb. When you pkafe : Do I prefs you ? 
 
 Syrus. But d'ye know 
 What you're to do ? 
 
 Bacch. Why, what? 
 
 Syrus. You muft go over, 
 You and your equipage, to Menedemus. 
 
 Baccb. What are you at now, fauce-box ? 
 
 Syrus. Coining money, 
 For your ufe, Bacchis. 
 
 Baccb. Do you think to play 
 Your jells on me ? 
 
 Syrus. No-, this is downright earnefl. 
 
 Bacch. Are You the perfon I'm to deal with ?* 
 
 Syrus. No. 
 But 'twill fecure your money. 
 
 Bacch. Let us go then ! 
 
 Syrus. Follow her there. Ho, Dromo ! 
 
 * Are you, &c.] There is Bacchis exprefles fome reluc- 
 
 fome difficulty in this and the tance to aft under the direction 
 
 next fpeech in the original, and of Syrus, but is at length pre- 
 
 the Commentators have been vailed on, finding that he can 
 
 puzzled to make fenfe of them, by thofe means contrive to pay 
 
 Jt feems to me that the Poet's her the money, which he had 
 
 intention is no more than this, promifed her. 
 
 SCENE
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 209 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Enter DROMO. 
 
 Dromo. Who calls ? 
 
 Syr us. Syrus. 
 
 Dromo. Your pleafure ! What's the matter now ? 
 
 Syrus. Conduct 
 'All Bacchus' maids to your houfe inftantly. 
 
 Dromo. Why fo ? 
 
 Syrus. No queftions ; let them carry over 
 All they brought hither. Our old gentleman 
 Will think himfelf reliev'd from much expence 
 By their departure, Troth, he little knows, 
 With how much lofs this fmall gain threatens him. 
 If you're wife, Dromo, know not what you know. 
 
 Dromo. I'm dumb. 
 
 [Exit Dromo, with Bacchis' fervants and baggage 
 into the boufe of Menedemus. After which, 
 
 SCENE V. 
 Enter C H R E M E S. 
 
 Ckretnes, to himfelf.] Tore heav'n, I pity Menedemus. 
 His eafe is lamentable : to maintain 
 
 X 2 That
 
 300 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 That jade, and all her harlot-family ! 
 
 Altho' I know for fome few days indeed 
 
 He will not feel it ; fo exceedingly 
 
 He long'd to have his fon : but when he fees 
 
 Such monftrous houlhold riot and expence 
 
 Continue daily, without end or meafure, 
 
 He'll wiih his fon away from him again. 
 
 But yonder's Syrus in good time. [feeing Syrus. 
 
 Syrus. I'll to him. [afede. 
 
 Chr ernes. Syrus. 
 
 Syrus. Who's there ? [turning about. 
 
 Cbremes. What now ? 
 
 Syrus. The very man ! 
 I have been wifhing for you this long time. 
 
 Cbremes. You feem to've been at work with 
 Menedemus. 
 
 Syrus. What ! at our plot ? No fooner faid, than done. 
 
 Cbremes. Indeed ! 
 
 Syrus. Indeed. 
 
 Cbremes. I can't forbear to ftroke 
 Your head for it. Good lad ! come nearer, Syrus ! 
 I'll do thee fome good turn for this. I will, 
 I promife you. [patting bis bead. 
 
 Syrus. Ah, if you did but know 
 How luckily it came into my head ! 
 
 Cbremes. Pfliaw, are you vain of your good luck ? 
 
 Syrus. Not I. 
 
 I fpeak the plain truth. 
 
 Cbremes.
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 301 
 
 Cbremes. Let me know it then. 
 
 Syrus. Clinia has told his father, that the wench 
 Is miftrefs to your Clitipho ; and that 
 He brought her over with him to their houfe, 
 To hinder your detecting it. 
 
 Cbremes. Good ! good ! 
 
 Syrus. D'ye think fo ? 
 
 Cbremes. Charming ! 
 
 Syrus. Ay, if you knew all. 
 But only hear the reft of our device. 
 He'll tell his father, he has feen your daughter, 
 Whofe beauty has fo charm'd him at firil fight, 
 He longs to marry her. 
 
 Cbremes. Antiphila ? 
 
 Syrus. The fame: and he'll requeft him to demand her 
 Of you in marriage. 
 
 Cbremes. TO what purpofe, Syrus ? 
 I don't conceive the drift on't. 
 
 Syrus. No! you're flow. 
 
 Cbremes. Perhaps fo, 
 
 Syrus. Menedemus inftantly 
 Will furnilh him with money for the wedding, 
 To buy d'ye take me ? 
 
 Cbremes. Cloaths and jewels. 
 
 Syrus. Ay. 
 
 Cbremes. But I will neither marry, nor betroth 
 My daughter to him. 
 
 Syrus. No? Why? 
 
 X 3 Cbremes.
 
 302 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Cbr ernes. Why ! is that 
 A queftion ? to a wretch ! 
 
 Syrus. Well, as you pleafe. 
 I never meant that he fhould marry her, 
 But only to pretend 
 
 Chremes. I hate pretence. 
 Plot as you pleafe, but do not render me 
 An engine in your rogueries. Shall I 
 Contract my daughter, where I never can 
 Confent to marry her ? 
 
 Syrus. 1 fancied fo. 
 
 Cbreiwes. Not I. 
 
 Syrus. It might be done mofl dextroufly : 
 And, in obedience to your ftricl: commands, 
 I undertook this bufinefs. 
 
 Chremes. I believe it. 
 
 Syrus. However, Sir, I meant it well. 
 
 Chremes. Nay, nay, 
 
 Do't by all means, and fpare no trouble in't -, 
 But bring you* fcheme to bear fome other way. 
 
 Syrus. Jt mall be done : I'll think upon fome other. 
 ~ But then the money which I mention'd to you, 
 Owing to Bacchis by Antiphila, 
 Muft be repaid her: and you will not now 
 Attempt to fhift the matter off ; or fay, 
 *' What is'tto me? Was /the borrower? 
 " Did / command it ? Could me pledge my daughter 
 
 ^ Againft
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 303 
 
 " Againft my will ?" Thefe pleas you cannot urge-, 
 
 For 'tis a common faying, and a true, 
 
 * That ftricteft law is oft the higheft wrong. 
 
 Cbremes. I mean not to evade it. 
 
 Syrus. No, I'll warrant. 
 
 Nay You, tho* others did, could never think on't ; 
 For all the world imagines you've acquir'd 
 A fair and handfome fortune. 
 
 Cbremes. I will carry 
 The money to her inftantly myfelf. 
 
 Syrus. No; rather fend it by your fon. 
 
 Cbremes. Why fo? 
 
 Syrus. Becaufe he acts the part of her gallant. 
 
 Cbremes. What then ? 
 
 Syrus. Why then 'twill feem more probable, 
 If he prefents it: I too mall effect 
 My fcheme more eafily. And here he is. 
 In, Sir, and fetch the money out. 
 
 Cbremes. I will. {Exit Chremes. 
 
 * Srifleft law is oft the higbeft Menander probably made nfe of 
 
 wrong.] Summumjus,f<epe/um- it in this very play, as the fame 
 
 ma eji malitia. This, as Syrus fentiment is to be found among 
 
 himfelf fays, was a proverb, his fragments. 
 
 Oj voftoi 0-q>o8p' ttttv' o J* 
 
 The law, 'tis true, is good and excellent ; 
 But he who takes the letter of the law 
 Too fhiftly, is a pettyfogging knave. 
 
 SCENE
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOje 
 
 SCENE VL 
 
 Inter CLIT IF HO. 
 
 . 
 
 Clit. to bimfelf.] Nothing To eafy in itfelf, but when 
 Pcrforni'd agairift one's will, grows difficult. 
 This little walk, how ea'fy ! yet how faint 
 And weary it has made me ! and I fear 
 Left I be ftill excluded, and forbid 
 To come near Bacchis. [feeing Syrus.'] -Now all 
 
 pow'rs above 
 
 Confound you, Syrus, for the trick you play'd me ! 
 That brain of your's is evermore contriving 
 Some villainy to torture me withall. 
 
 Syrus. Away, you malapert! Your frowardnefs 
 Had well nigh been my ruin. 
 
 Clit. Would it had ! 
 For you deferv'd it richly. 
 
 Syrus. How! deferv'd it? 
 I'faith I'm glad I heard you fay fo much 
 Before you touch'd the cafh, that I was juft 
 About to give you. 
 
 Clit. Why, what can I fay ? 
 You went away; came back, beyond my hopes, 
 And brought my miftrefs with you; then again 
 Forbad my touching her. 
 
 Cyrus.
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR, 305 
 
 Syrus. Well, well, I can't 
 Be peevifh with you now. But do you know 
 Where Bacchis is ? 
 
 Clit. At our houfe. 
 Syrus. No. 
 
 Clit. Where then ? 
 
 Syrus. At Clinia's. 
 
 Clit. Then I'm ruin'd. 
 
 Syrus. Courage, man ! 
 You mail go to her inftantly, and carry 
 The money that you promis'd her. 
 
 Clit. Fine talk! 
 Where mould I get it ? 
 
 Syrus. From your father. 
 
 Clit. Plhaw! 
 You play upon me. 
 
 Syrus. The event mall mew. 
 
 Clit. Then I am bleft indeed. Thanks, thanks, 
 dear Syrus ! 
 
 Syrus. Hift! here's your father. Have a care ! 
 
 don't feem 
 
 Surpriz'd at any thing : give way in all : 
 Do as he bids, and fay but little. Mum ! 
 
 SCENE
 
 3 o6 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 Enter C H R E M E S. 
 
 Cbremes. Where's Clitipho ? 
 
 Syrus, to Clit.'] Here, fay. 
 
 Clit. Here, Sir ! 
 
 Chr ernes. Have You 
 Informed him of the bufmefs ? [to Syrus, 
 
 Syrus. In good part. 
 
 Cbremes. Here, take the money then, and carry it. 
 
 [to Clitipho. 
 
 Syrus. Plague, how you ftand, log! take it. 
 
 Clit. Give it me. [aukwardly. 
 
 Syrus. Now in with me immediately ! You, Sir, 
 
 \to Chremes. 
 
 Be pleas'd meanwhile to wait our coming here ; 
 There's nothing to detain us very long. 
 
 [Exeunt Clit. and Syrus. 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 CHREMES, alone. 
 
 My daughter now has had Ten Minae of me, 
 .Which I account laid out upon her board : 
 
 4 Ten
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR, 307 
 
 Ten more her cloaths will come to : and moreover 
 
 Two Talents for her portion. -How unjuft. 
 
 And abfolute is cuftom ! * I muft now 
 Leave every thing, and find a ftrangcr out, 
 On whom I may beftow the fum of wealth, 
 Which I have fo much labour'd to acquire, 
 
 SCENE IX. 
 
 Enter MENEDEMUS. 
 
 Mene. to bimfelf.~] Oh fon, how happy haft thou 
 
 made thy father, 
 Convinc'd of thy repentance ! 
 
 Cbr ernes, overbearing.'} How miflaken ! 
 
 Mene. Chremes ! I wifh'd for you. 'Tis in your 
 
 power, 
 
 And I befeech you do it, to preferve 
 My fon, myfelf, and family. 
 
 Chremes. I'll dp't. 
 Wherein can I oblige you ? 
 
 * How unjuft, and alfclute is tune with her. And as a proof, 
 cuftom /] I am charmed with that cuftom only authorizes 
 this fentiment, and ftill rr.ore fuch a praftice,in antient time* 
 with the good man's applica- the very contrary was the cafe, 
 tion of it. For in faft nothing money and prefents being given 
 can be more ridiculous, than to the fathers by thofe who de- 
 that when a father beftows his manded their daughters in mar- 
 daughter upon a man, he muft riage. MADAM DA:IER. \ 
 alfo beftow part of his for- 
 
 Mene,
 
 3 o8 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Ment. You to-day 
 Have found a daughter. 
 
 Cbremes. True. What then ? 
 
 Mcne. MyClinia 
 Begs your confent to marry her. 
 
 Cbremes. Good heaven ! 
 What kind of man are you ? 
 
 Mem. What mean you, Chremes ? 
 
 Cbremes. Has it then dipt your memory fo foon, 
 The converfation that we had together, 
 Touching the rogueries they mould devife, 
 To trick you of your money ? 
 
 Mcne. I remember. 
 
 Cbremes. This is the trick. 
 
 Mene. How, Chremes ? Pm deceived. 
 
 'Tis as you fay. From what a pleafms; hope 
 J -/. r o r 
 
 Have I then fall'n ! 
 
 Cbremes. And me, I warrant you,* 
 Now a.t your houfe, is my fon's miflrefs ? Eh ! 
 
 Mene. So they fay. 
 
 Cbremes. What ! and you believ'd it ? 
 
 Mene. All. 
 
 Cbremes. And they fay too he wants to marry her? 
 That foon as I've confented, you may give him 
 
 * And Jhe, I warrant you > f?r.] lowed that order, which Teemed 
 
 Thefe two or three fpeeches to me to create the moft lively 
 
 are differently divided in dif- and natural dialogue, 
 ferent editions. I have fol- 
 
 2 Money
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 309 
 
 Money to furnifh him with jewels, cloaths, 
 And other necefiaries. 
 
 Mcne. Ay, 'tis fo : 
 The money's for his miftrefs. 
 
 Cbremes. To be fure. 
 
 Mene. Alas, my tranfports are all groundlefs then. 
 Yet I would rather bear with any thing, 
 Than lofe my fon again. What anfwer, Chremes, 
 Shall I return with, that he mayn't perceive 
 I've found him out, and take offence ? 
 
 Cbremes. Offence ! 
 You're too indulgent to him, Menedemus ! 
 
 Mene. Allow me. I've begun, and muft go through. 
 Do but continue to affift me, Chremes. 
 
 Cbremes. Say we have met, and treated of the 
 match. 
 
 Mene. Well , and what elfe ? 
 
 Chremes. That I give full confent ; 
 That I approve my fon-in-law ; In Ihort, 
 You may aflure him alfo, if you pleafe, 
 That I've betroth'd my daughter to him. 
 
 Mene. Good ! 
 The very thing I wanted. 
 
 Cbremes. So your fon 
 
 The fooner (hall demand the money of you , 
 And fo mail you, according to your wiih, 
 The fooner give. 
 
 Mate,
 
 510 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Mem. It is my wilh indeed. 
 
 Chremes. Tore heaven, friend, as far as I can judge,/ 
 You'll foon be weary of your fon again. 
 But be it as it may, give cautioufly, 
 A little at a time, if you are wile. 
 
 Mene. I will. 
 
 Chremes. Go in, and fee what he demands. 
 If you fhou'd want me, I'm at home. 
 
 Mene. 'Tis well. 
 For I (hall let you know, do what I will. 
 
 [Exeunt federally. 
 
 ACT
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 311 
 
 ACT V. SCENE I. 
 
 MENEDEMUS alone. 
 
 THAT I'm not overwife, no conjurer, 
 I know full well : but my afliftant here, 
 And counfellor, and grand comptroller Chremes, 
 Outgoes me far : dolt, blockhead, ninny, afs -, 
 Or thefe, or any other common terms 
 By which men fpeak of fools, befit Me well : 
 But Him they fuit not : His ftupidity 
 Is fo tranfcendent, it exceeds them all. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Enter CHREMES. 
 
 Cbremes, to Softrata within. ~\ Nay prithee, good wife, 
 
 ceafe to ftun the Gods 
 
 With thanking them that you have found your daughter ; 
 Unlefs you fancy they are like yourfelf, 
 And think, they cannot underftand a thing 
 Unlefs faid o'er and o'er a hundred times. 
 But meanwhile [coming forward] wherefore do my 
 fon and Syrus 
 
 Loiter
 
 312 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Loiter fo long ? * 
 
 Mene. Who are v tliofe loiterers, Chremes ? 
 
 Chremes. Ha, Menedemus, are You there ? In- 
 form me, 
 Have you told Clinia what I faid ? 
 
 Mene. The whole. 
 
 Chremes. And what faid He ? 
 
 Mene. Grew quite tranfported at it. 
 Like thofe who wifh for marriage. 
 
 Chremes. Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Mene. What do you laugh at ? 
 
 Chremes. I was thinking of 
 The cunning rogueries of that Have, Syrus, [laughing. 
 
 Mene. Oh, was That it ? 
 
 Chremes. Why, he can form and mould 
 The very vifages of men, a rogue ! [laughing. 
 
 Mene. Meaning my fon's well-acted tranfport ? 
 
 Chremes. Ay. [laughing. 
 
 Mene. The very thing that I was thinking of. 
 
 Chremes. A fubtle villain ! [laughing. 
 
 Mene. Nay, if you knew more, 
 You'd be ftill more convinced on't. 
 
 Chremes. Say you fo ? 
 
 Mene. Ay, do but hear. 
 
 Chremes^ laughing.'] Hold ! hold ! inform me firft 
 How much you're out of pocket. For as foon 
 As you informed your fon of -my content, 
 
 Dromo,
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 313 
 
 Dromo, I warrant, gave you a broad hint, 
 
 That the bride wanted jewels, cloaths, attendants i 
 
 That you might pay the money. 
 
 Mene. No. 
 
 Cbremes. How ? No ? 
 
 Mene. No, I fay. 
 
 Cbremes. What ! nor Clinia ? 
 
 Mene. Not a word ; 
 But only preft the marriage for to-day. 
 
 Cbremes. Amazing"! But our Syrus ? Did not He 
 Throw in a word or two ? 
 
 Mene. Not he. 
 
 Chremes. How fo ? 
 
 Mene. Faith I can't tell : but Pm amaz'd that you, 
 Who fee fo clearly into all the reft, 
 Sliou'd flick at this. But that arch villain Syrus 
 Has form'd and moulded your fon too fo rarely, 
 That nobody can have the leaft fufpicion, 
 That this is Clinia's miftrefs. 
 
 Cbremes. How ? 
 
 Mene. I pafs 
 Their kiffes and embraces. All that's nothing. 
 
 Cbremes. What is there more that he can counterfeit? 
 
 Mene. Ah ! [fmiting. 
 
 Chremes. What d'ye mean ? 
 
 Mene. Nay, do but hear. I have 
 A private fnug apartment, a back-room, 
 
 VOL. I. Y Whither
 
 $14 THE SELF-TORiMENTOR. 
 
 * Whither a bed was brought and made. 
 
 Chr ernes. What then ? 
 
 Mene. No fooner done, than in went Clitipho, 
 
 Chremes. Alone ? 
 
 Mene. Alone. 
 
 Chremes. I tremble. 
 
 Mene. Bacchis follow'd. 
 
 Chremes. Alone? 
 
 Mene. Alone. 
 
 Chremes. Undone ! 
 
 Mene. No fooner in, 
 But they made faft the door. 
 
 Chremes. Ha ! And was Clinia 
 Witnefsto this? 
 
 Mene. He was. Both He and I. 
 
 Chremes. Bacchis is my fon's rniftrefs, Mciiedemus ! 
 I'm ruin'd. 
 
 Mene. Why d'ye think fo ? 
 
 Chremes. Mine is fcarce 
 A Ten-days family. 
 
 Mene. What ! are you difmay'd 
 
 * Whither abed <was BROUGHT poftor, by his manner of ac- 
 
 ffr.] Peter Nannius obierves knowledging it; becaufe this 
 
 that the beds among the an- bed was formed out of the trunk 
 
 tients were portable, and pro- of an olive, wrought into the 
 
 duces a pafTage from the Odyf. apartment itfelf, and therefore, 
 
 fey, wherein Penelope orders contrary to the nature of other 
 
 the marriage- bed to be produ- beds, could not be removed, 
 
 ced, to try whether Ulyfles was WESTERHOVIUS. 
 really her hufband, or an im- 
 
 Becaufe
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 515 
 Becaufe he fticks fo clofely to his friend ? 
 
 Cbremes. Friend ! His She-fr'xnd. 
 
 Mem. Iffo 
 
 Clrmes. Is that a doubt ? 
 Is any man fo courteous,- and fo patient, 
 As tamely to (land by, and fee his miftrefs 
 
 Mene. Ha, ha, ha! Why not? That I, you know, 
 Might be more eafily impos'd upon. [ironically. 
 
 Cbremes. D'ye laugh at me? I'm angry with myfelf i 
 And well I may. How many circumftances 
 Confpir'd to make it grofs and palpable, 
 Had I not been a ftone! What things I faw ! 
 Fool, fool! But by my life I'll be reveng'd ; 
 For now 
 
 Mene. And can*t you then contain yourfelf ? 
 Have you no felf-refpecl ? And am not I 
 A full example for you ? 
 
 Cbremes. Menedemus, 
 My anger throws me quite befide myfelf. 
 
 Mene. That You mould talk thus ! Is it not a fliame 
 To be fo liberal of advice to others, 
 So wife abroad, and poor in fenfe at home ? 
 
 Cbremes. What mail I do ? 
 
 Mene. That which but even now* 
 
 * Tfjat <wbicb lut even now Menedemtis the very adrictf 
 
 jou coanfeird me . ] One of the given by himfeif at the begin- 
 
 great beauties of this fcene con- ning of the piece* DACJER. 
 fiils in Chremes* retorting on
 
 jxrf THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 You counfeU'd me to do : Give him to know 
 That you're indeed a father : let him dare 
 Truft his whole foul to you, feek, a(k of you ; 
 Left he to others have recourfe, and leave you. 
 Chremes. And let him go ; go where he will ; 
 
 much rather 
 
 Than here by his extravagance reduce 
 His father to diftrefs and beggary. 
 For if I mould continue to fupply 
 The courfe of his expences, Menedemus, 
 Your defp'rate rakes wou'd be my lot indeed. 
 
 Mene. Ah, to what evils you'll expofe yourfelf, 
 Unlefs you're cautious! You will feem fevere, 
 And yet forgive him afterwards, and then 
 With an ill grace too. 
 
 Chremes; Ah, you do not know 
 How much this grieves me. 
 
 Mene. Well, well, take your wsy. 
 But tell me, do you grant me my requeft, 
 That this your new-found daughter wed my fon ? 
 Or b there aught more welcome to you ? 
 
 Cbremes. Nothing. 
 The fon-in-law, and the alliance pleafe me. 
 
 Mene. What portion mall I tell my fon you've fettkd? 
 Why are you filent ? 
 
 Cbremes. Portion ! 
 
 Mene. Ay, what portion ? 
 
 Cbremes. Ah '
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 317 
 
 Mene. Fear not, Chremes, tho' it be but fmall ; 
 The portion nothing moves us, 
 
 Chremes. I propos'd, 
 
 According to my fortune, that Two Talents 
 Were full fufficient: But you now muft fay, 
 If you'd fave me, my fortune, and my fon, 
 That I have fettled all I have upon her. 
 
 Mene. What mean you ? 
 
 Chremes. Counterfeit amazement too, 
 And queftion Clitipho my reafon for it. 
 
 Mene. Nay, but I really do not know your reafon. 
 
 Chremes. My reafon for it ? That his wanton mind, 
 Now flum'd with lux'ry and lafcivioufnefs, 
 1 may o'erwhelm ; and bring him down fo low, 
 He may not know which way to turn himfelf. 
 
 Mene. What are you at ? 
 
 Chremes. Allow me ! let me have 
 My own way in this bufinefs. 
 
 Mene. I allow you. 
 Jt is your pleafure ? 
 
 Chremes. It is. 
 
 Mene. Be it fo. 
 
 Chremes. Come then, let Clinia halte to call the 
 
 bride. 
 
 And for this fon of mine, he mail be fchool'd, 
 As children ought. But Syrus ! 
 
 Mene. What of him ? 
 
 Chremes. What! I'll fo handle him, fo curry him, 
 Y 3 That
 
 jig THE SELF-TORMENTOR, 
 
 That while he bv^s he fhall remember me. 
 
 [*Exi! Menedemus, 
 
 What ! make a jeft of me ? a laughing ftock ? 
 Now, afore heav'n, he would not dare to treat 
 A poor lone widow, as he treated me. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Re-enter MENEDEMUS with CLITIPHQ 
 and SYRUS, 
 
 Clit. And can it, Menedemus, can it be, 
 My father has fo fuddenl-y caft off 
 All natural affection? for what aft? 
 What crime, alas, fo heinous have J done ? 
 Jt js a common failing. 
 
 Mene. This, I know, 
 Should be more hea.vy and fevere v to you 
 
 * Exit MeneJerqus.] The de- her old expedient of making 
 parture of Menedemus here is the audience wait to fee Chre- 
 yery abrupt, feeming to be in mes walk impatiently to and 
 the midlt of a converfation ; fro, till a fufljcient time is clap- 
 and his re-entrance with Cli- fed for Menedemus to have 
 tiphp, already fuppofed to be given Clitipho a fummary ac- 
 apprized of what had paft be- count pf the caufe of his fa- 
 tween the twp old gentlemen, ther's anger. The truth is, thm 
 is equally precipitate. Menage a to ^ r ^ obfervance of Unity 
 imagines that feme verfes are of Place will neceflhrily pro- 
 loft here. Madam Dacier ftrains duce fuch abfurdities ; and 
 hard to defend the poet, and there are feverai other in flancc3 
 fills up the void of time by of the like nature in Terence, 
 
 On
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 319 
 
 On whom it falls : and yet am I no lefs 
 Affected by it, tho' I know not why, 
 And have no other reafon for my grief, 
 But that I wilh you well. 
 
 Clit. Did not you fay 
 My father waited here ? 
 
 Mene. Ay, there he is. [Exit Menedemus. 
 
 Chremes Why d'ye accufe your father, Clitipho ? 
 Whatever I've done, was providently done 
 Tow'rd you and your imprudence. When I faw 
 Your negligence of foul, and that you held 
 The plcafurcs of to-day your only care, 
 Regardlefs of the morrow ^ I found means 
 That you fhou'd neither want, nor wafte my fubflance. 
 When You, whom fair fucceflion firft made heir, 
 Stood felf-degraded by unworthinefs, 
 I went to thofe the next in blood to yon, 
 Committing and configning all to Them. 
 There mall your weaknefs, Clitipho, be fure 
 Ever to find a refuge, food, and raiment, 
 And roof to fly to. 
 
 Clit. Ah me ! 
 
 Chremes. Better thus, 
 Than, you being heir, for Bacchis to have all. 
 
 Syrus. Diffraction ! what difturbances have I, 
 Wretch that I am, all unawares created ! 
 Clit. Wou'd I were dead ! 
 
 Y 4 Cbremes.
 
 320 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Chremes . Learn firft, what 'tis to live. 
 "When you know That, if life difpleafes yoiij 
 Then talk of dying. 
 
 Syrus. Matter, may I fpeak ? 
 
 Ckremes. Speak. 
 
 Syrus. But with fafety ? 
 
 Chi -ernes. Speak. 
 
 Syrus. How wrong is this, 
 Or rjither what extravagance and madnefs, 
 To punifh him for my offence ! 
 
 Chremes. Away ! 
 
 . J 
 
 Do not you meddle. No one blames you, Syrus 
 Nor need you to provide a fanctuary, 
 Or intercefTpr. 
 
 Syrus, What is it you do ? 
 
 Chremes. I am not angry, nor Ttith you, nor him ; 
 Nor Ihould you take offence at what I do. 
 
 Chremes. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Mamnt CLITIFHO, SYRUS, 
 
 Syrus. He's gone. Ah, wou'c^ I'd afk'd him - - 
 
 C//V. Alk'4 what, Syrus ? 
 
 Syrus. Where I fhou'd eat, fmce he has caft us off, 
 You, I perceive, are quarter'd on your fifter. 
 
 Clit. Is't come to this, that I fhou'd be in fear 
 Of ftarving, Syrus ? 
 
 3 Syrus.
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 321 
 
 S\rus. So we do but live, 
 There's hope 
 
 Clit. Of what? 
 
 Syrus. That we fhall have rare ftomachs. 
 
 Clit. D'ye jeft at fuch a time as this ; 
 And lend me no afiiftance by your counfel ? 
 
 Syrus. Nay, I was ftudying for you even now, 
 And was fo all the while your father Ipoke. 
 And far as I can underftand this 
 
 Clit. What ? 
 
 Syrus. Stay, you lhall have it prefently. [thinking. 
 
 Clit. Well, what ? 
 
 Syrus. Thus then: I don't believe that you're 
 their fon. 
 
 Clit. How, Syrus ! are you mad ? 
 
 Syrus. 'I'll fpcak my thoughts. 
 Be you the judge. While they had You alone, 
 While yet there was no other, nearer joy, 
 YofKhcy indulg'd, and gave with open hand : 
 But now a daughter's found, their real child, 
 A caufe is found to drive you forth. 
 
 Clit. 'Tis like. 
 
 Syrus. Think you this fault fo angers him ? 
 
 CUt. I think not. 
 
 Syrus. Confider too -, 'tis ever found, that mothers 
 Plead for their fons, and in the father's wrath 
 Defend them. Tis not fo at prefent. 
 
 Clit. True. 
 
 What
 
 312 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 What mall I do then, Syrus ? 
 
 Syr us. Afk of them 
 
 The truth of this fufpicion. Speak your thoughts, 
 If 'tis not fo, you'll fpeedily incline them 
 Both to companion - 3 or, if fo, be told 
 Whofe fon you are. 
 
 C/i/. Your counfel's good. I'll do'u 
 
 SCENE V. 
 SYRUS alone. 
 
 *A kicky thought of mine! 
 
 The lefs he hopes, fo much more eafily 
 
 Will he reduce his father to good terms. 
 
 Befides, who knows but he may take a wife 5 
 
 No thanks to Syrus neither. But who's here ? 
 
 Chremes ! I'm off : for feeing what has paft, 
 
 I wonder that he did not order me 
 
 To be trufs'd up immediately. I'll hence 
 
 To Menedemus, and prevail on him 
 
 To intercede for me : as matters ftand, 
 
 I dare nottruftto our old gentleman. [Exit Syrus, 
 
 * The art and addrefs of this ftratagem of Syrus is excellent, 
 and cannot be fufHciently admired. DACIER. 
 
 SCENE
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 223 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 Enter C H R E M E S, SO STRATA. 
 
 Scftra. Nay indeed, hulband, if you don't taka care, 
 You'll bring fome kind of mifchief on your fon : 
 I can't imagine how a thought fo idle 
 Could come into your head. 
 
 Chremes. Still, woman, ftill 
 D'ye contradict me ? Did I ever wifh 
 For any thing in all my life, but you 
 Jn that lame thing oppos'd me, Softrata ? 
 Yet now if I mould afk, wherein I'm wrong, 
 Or wherefore I act thus, you do not know. 
 Why then d'ye contradict me, Simpleton ? 
 
 Scftra. Not know ? 
 
 Chremes. Well, well, you know: I grant it, rather 
 Than hear your idle ftory o'er again. 
 
 Softra. Ah, 'tis unjuft in you to afk my filencc 
 In fuch a thing as this. 
 
 Cbrcmes. I do not afk it, 
 Speak if you will : I'll do it ne'erthelefs. 
 
 Sojlra. Will you ? 
 
 Cbremes. I will. 
 
 Scftra. You don't perceive what harm 
 
 May
 
 3 24 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 May come of this. He thinks himfclf a foundling.* 
 
 Cbremes. A foundling, fay you ? 
 
 Softra. Yes indeed, he does. 
 
 Cbremes. Confefs it to be true. 
 
 Softra. Ah, heav'n forbid ! 
 Let our moft bitter enemies do that ! 
 Shall I difown my fon, my own dear child : 
 
 Cbremes. What! do you fear you cannot, at your 
 
 pleafure, 
 Produce convincing proofs that he's your own ? 
 
 Softra. Is it, becaufe my daughter's found,-}- ypu 
 fay this ? 
 
 * He thinks himfelf a found- 
 ling.] Su&ditumfesusPiCATi;*.. 
 It is odd enough that Madam 
 Dacier changes the text here, 
 according to an alteration of 
 her father, and reads SUSPI- 
 CETUR, He MAY think himfelf 
 a foundling and affigns as a 
 reafonfor it, that Terence could 
 not be guilty of the very im- 
 propriety which ihe undertook 
 to vindicate in the preceding 
 fcene. I have followed the com- 
 mon reading; becaufe Chremes, 
 ordering her to confirm her 
 fon's fufpicions, fhews that he 
 underftood her words in a pofi- 
 tive, not a potential, fenfe. 
 Clitipho, on his entrance in the 
 next fcene, feems to renew a 
 requeft already made; and it 
 would be a poor artifice in the 
 
 poet, and, as Patrick obferves, 
 below the genius of Terence, 
 to make Softrata apprehend that 
 thefe would be her fon's fufpici- 
 ons, before ftie had any reafon 
 to fuppofe fo. 
 
 f Betaufe my daughter's fou*d.~\ 
 Mada.ni Pacier, as well as all 
 the reft of the commentators, 
 has ftuck at thefe words. Moft 
 of them imagine Ihe means to 
 fay, that the difcovery of Anti- 
 phila is a plain proof that m 
 is not barren. Madam Dacier 
 fuppofes that flie intimates fuch 
 a proof to be eafy, becaufe Cli- 
 tipho and Antiphila were ex- 
 tremely alike ; which fenfe fhe 
 thinks immediately confirmed 
 by the anfwer of Chremes. I 
 cannot agree with any of them, 
 and
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR 325 
 
 Chremss. No: but becaufe, a ftronger reafon far, 
 His manners are fo very like your own, 
 They are convincing proofs that he's your fon. 
 He is quite like you : not a vice, whereof 
 He is inheritor, but dwells in You : 
 And fuch a fon no mother but yourfelf 
 Could have engendered. But he comes. How grave ! 
 Look in his face, and you may guefs his plight. 
 
 SCENE VII: 
 ' Enter C L I T I P H O. 
 
 CUt. O Mother, if there ever was a time 
 When you took pleafure in me, or delight 
 To call me fon, befeech you, think of that , 
 Pity my prefent mifery, and tell me 
 Who are my real parents ! 
 
 Softra. My dear fon, 
 
 and think that the whole diffi- of a daughter ; imagining that 
 
 culty of the paflage here, as in he means to infmuate, that ft 
 
 many other places, is entirely could at any time with equal 
 
 of their own making. Softrata eafe make out the proofs of ahe 
 
 could not refer to the reply of birth of her fon. The cllipti- 
 
 Chremes, becaufe Ihe could not cal mode of expreffion, fo ufua 
 
 poffibly tell what it would be : in Terence, together with tl 
 
 but her own fpeech is intended refinements of commentators, 
 
 as ah anfwer to his preceding feem to have created all the 
 
 one, which (he takes as a fneer obfcurity. 
 on her late wonderful difcovery 
 
 Take
 
 $26 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Take not, I beg, that notion to your mind^ 
 That you're an alien to our blood* 
 
 Clit. lam. 
 
 Softra. Ah me! and can you then demand me that? 
 So may you profper after both, as you're 
 Of both the child ! and if you love your mother, 
 Take heed henceforward that I never hear 
 Such words from you. 
 
 Chr ernes. And if you fear your father, 
 See that I never find fuch vices in you. 
 
 CUt. What vices? 
 
 Cbremes. What? I'll tell you. Trifler, idler, 
 Cheat, drunkard, whoremafter, and prodigal. 
 Think this, and think that you are our's. 
 
 Softra. Thefe words 
 Suit not a father. 
 
 Chremes. No, no, Clitipho, 
 
 *Tho' from my brain you had been born, as Pallas 
 Sprang, it is faid, from Jupiter, I wou'd not 
 
 * Tho'frommy Brain, &t.] I generally imagined that this if 
 
 cannot help confidering this as the paflage alluded to by 
 
 a touch of comtck anger. How- Horace, when he fays in hi? 
 
 ever, all the commentators are Art of Poetry, 
 of a different opinion ; and it is 
 
 Infer dum tamen & wctm Comiedia tollit ; 
 Iratufquc Cbremes tumido delitigat ore. 
 
 Yet Comedy fometimes her voice may raife, 
 And angry Chremes rail in fwelling phrafe. 
 
 FRANCIS. 
 
 Bear
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 327 
 
 Bear the difgrace of your enormities. 
 
 Softra. The Gods forbid 
 
 Chrcmes. I know not for the, Gods : * 
 I will do all that lies in Me. You feck 
 For parents, which you have : but what is wanting, 
 Obedience to your father, and the means 
 To keep what he by labour hath acquir'd, 
 For That you feek not. Did you not by tricks 
 
 Ev'n to my prefence introduce 1 blum 
 
 fTo fpeak immodeftly before your mother 
 But you by no means blufn'd to do't. 
 
 CKt. Alas ! 
 
 How hateful am I to myfelf ! how much 
 Am I afham'd ! fo loft, I cannot tell 
 How to attempt to pacify my father. 
 
 * I know not for the Gods.] what Bacchis tells her of 
 
 Kefcio Decs. Lambinus, in his other women, fays, Ntjfiojdfesj 
 
 admirable letter to Charles the &. For my own part (fays flie) 
 
 9th, accufes Terence of im- 1' know not what otbtr ivomex 
 
 piety : but the charge is may do, gV. and not, / <jW/ 
 
 groundlefs. Nay, had Terence care for other women. DACIER. 
 been ever fo wicked, he would 
 
 fcarce have been fo imprudent f To fptak immodcfily btfcrt 
 
 as to introduce impious expref- your mother.] The Greeks and 
 
 fions in a play which was to be Romans were remarkably polite 
 
 licenfed by the magistrates. AV- in this particular. They would^ 
 
 fiio Deos, does not imply, I care upon no account whatever, ex- 
 
 not for the Gods, but / know not prefs themfelves indecently be- 
 
 *wbat the Gods will do. This is fore their wives. Religion, po- 
 
 farther confirmed by a paflage licy, and good manners forbad 
 
 in the fourth fcene of the fecond it. DACIER. 
 Ad. Antiphila, in anfwer to 
 
 SCENE
 
 328 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 Enter MENEDEMUS, 
 
 Mene. Now in good faith our Chremes plagues his foa 
 Too long and too feverely. I come forth 
 To reconcile him, and make peace between them. 
 And there they are I 
 
 Chremes. Ha, Menedemus ! wherefore 
 Is not my daughter fummon'd ? and the portion, 
 I fettled on her, ratified by You ? 
 
 Sqftra. Dear hufband, I befeech you not to do it ! 
 
 Clit. My father, I intreat you pardon me ! 
 
 Mene. Forgive him, Chremes ! let his pray'rs prevail \ 
 
 Chremes. What! mall I then with open eyes beftow 
 My whole eftate on Bacchis ? I'll not do't. 
 
 Mene. We will prevent that. It lhall not be fo. 
 
 Clit. If you regard my life, forgive me, father! 
 
 Softra. Do, my dear Chremes ! 
 
 Mene. Do, I prithee n;ow ! 
 Be not obdurate, Chremes ! 
 
 Cbremes. Why is this? 
 I fee I can't proceed as I've begun. 
 
 Mene. 'Tis as it Ihou'd be now. 
 
 Chremes. On this condition, 
 That he agrees to do what I think fit. 
 
 Clit.
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 329 
 
 Ctit. I will do ev'ry thing. Command me, father ! 
 
 Chremes. Take a wife. 
 
 Clit. Father! 
 
 Chremes. Nay, Sir, no denial! 
 
 Mene. I take that charge upon me. He (hall do't. 
 
 Ckremes. But I don't hear a word of it from him. 
 
 Clit. Confufion ! 
 
 Softra. Do you doubt then, Clitipho ? 
 
 Chremes. Nay, which he pleafes. 
 
 Mene. He'll obey in all ; 
 Whate'er you'd have him. 
 
 Softra. This, at firft, is grievous, 
 While you don't know it-, when you know it, eafy. 
 
 Clit. I'm all obedience, father ! 
 
 Scftra. Oh my fon, 
 
 I'll give you a fweet wife, that you'll adore, 
 Phanocrata's, our neighbour's daughter, 
 
 Clit. Her.! 
 That red-hair'd, blear-ey'd, wide-mouth'd, hook- 
 
 nos'd wench ? 
 I cannot, father. 
 
 Chremes. Oh, how nice he is ! 
 Would any one imagine it ? 
 
 Softra. I'll get you 
 Another then. 
 
 Clit. Well, well ; fmce I muft marry, 
 I know one pretty near my mind. 
 
 VOL. I. Z Softra.
 
 3 3 o THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Sojtra. Good boy ! 
 
 Clit. The daughter of Archonides, our neighbour. 
 Sofira. Well chofen ! 
 Clit. One thing, father, ftill remains. 
 Chremes. What? 
 
 Clit. That you'd grant poor Syrus a full pardon 
 For all that he hath done on my account. 
 
 Chremes. *Be it fo. [to the Audience.] Farewell, 
 Sirs, and clap your hands ! 
 
 * Beitfo&c.} Terence's 
 comedy of the Self-Tormentor 
 is from the beginning to the 
 end a perfect picture of human 
 life, but I did not obferve in 
 the whole one paflagethat could 
 raife a laugh. 
 
 STEELE'sSPECTATOR,N502. 
 
 The idea of this drama [Co- 
 medy] is much enlarged beyond 
 what it was in Ariflotle's time ; 
 who defines it to be, an itarta- 
 lion of tight and trivial a&iofis, 
 provoking ridicule. His noti- 
 on was taken from the ftate 
 and practice of the Athenian 
 ftage ; that is, from the old or 
 middle comedy, which anfwers 
 to this defcription. The great 
 revolution, which the introduc- 
 tion of the ;w comedy, made in 
 the drama, did not happen till 
 afterwards. This propofed for 
 \\noljeft, in general, the afti- 
 ons and characters of ordinary 
 life ; which are not, of necef- 
 
 fity, ridiculous, but, as ap- 
 pears to every obferver, of a 
 mixt kind, ferious as well as 
 ludicrous, and, within their pro- 
 per fphere of influence, notun- 
 frequently even important. This 
 kind of imitation, therefore, 
 now admits the feriout ; and 
 its fcenes, even without tbt 
 Itaft mixturt of pleafantrj t are 
 entirely COMICK. Though the 
 common run f laughers in oar 
 theatre are fo little aware of 
 the extenfion of this province, 
 that I ihould fcarcely have 
 hazarded the obfervation, Wit 
 for the authority of Terence, 
 who hath confefledly very little 
 of the pltafant in his drama. 
 Nay, one of the moll admired 
 of his comedies hath the gra- 
 vity, and, in fome places, al- 
 moft the folemnity of traggfy 
 itftlf. 
 
 HURQ'S DiJ/irtation on the fevt- 
 rovinctt of tbt Drama. 
 
 -Te-
 
 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 331 
 
 authority of Terence cannot be 
 fairly pleaded in confirmation 
 of the dodrine that Comedy 
 may fubfift without the leajt 
 mixture of the flea/ant or ridi- 
 culous. Terence, fays the 
 French cri ticks, fait rireau de- 
 dans, \3 Plaute au debars. The 
 humour of Terence is indeed of 
 a more chafte and delicate com- 
 pletion than that of Platuus, 
 Jonfon, or Moliere. There are 
 alfo, it is true, many grave 
 and affecting pafTages in his 
 plays, which Horace in hi s rule 
 of Interdum (amen, &t, and 
 even " the common run of 
 ' laughers in our theatre," al- 
 low and applaud in our gaycft 
 comedies. I cannot however 
 think that he ever trefpafles on 
 the feverity or folemnity of 
 Tragedy : nor can I think that 
 there are not touches of humour 
 in every one of the plavs, which 
 he has left behind him ; fome 
 humour of dialogue, more ot 
 character, and ftiil mere of co- 
 mick fituation, neceflarily re- 
 fulting from the artful contex- 
 ture of his pieces. The An- 
 drian, The Eunuch, The Bro- 
 thers, and Phormio, efpccial- 
 ly the feconcl and fourch, are 
 confefledly pleafmt comedies, 
 and the Eunuch in particular 
 themoftfavt i 
 of the Roman theatre. '. 
 ces of humour have been pro- 
 duced, by the ingenious cri- 
 tick hjjnfelf, even from the 
 Step- 
 
 Terence, whether impelled 
 by his native humour, or de- 
 termined by his truer tafte, 
 mixed fo little of the ridiculous 
 in his comedy, as plainly (hews, 
 it might, in his opinion, fubjift 
 tntirely without it. DITTO. 
 
 In the paflages, felecled 
 from the ingenious and learned 
 critick laft cited, are thefe four 
 pofitions. Firft, that Ariltotle 
 (who founded his notion of 
 Comedy on the Margites of 
 Homer, as he did that of Tra- 
 gedy on the Iliad) had not fo 
 enlarged an idea of mat kind 
 of drama, as we have at this 
 time, or as was entertained by 
 the authors of the new comedy : 
 Secondly, that this kind of imi- 
 tation, even without the LEAST 
 MIXTURE of pleafantry , is en- 
 tirely COMICK : Thirdly, that 
 Comedy might, in the opinion 
 cf Terence, /ubfift entirely with- 
 out the RIDICULOUS : And 
 fourthly, that the Self-Tor- 
 mentor hath the gravity of tra- 
 gedy itfelf. 
 
 The fwo firft pofitions con- 
 cerning Ariflotle's idea of this 
 kind of imitation, and the ge- 
 nius of Comedy itfelf, it is not 
 necefTary to examine at pre- 
 fent ; and indeed they are 
 queftions of too extenfive a na- 
 ture to be agitated in a fugitive 
 note : But in regard to the two 
 laft pofitions, with all due de- 
 ference to the learned critick, I 
 will venture to aflat that the
 
 332 THE SELF-TORMENTOR. 
 
 Step-Mother ; and the enfuing 
 notes will probably point out 
 more. As to the prefent co- 
 medy, the Self-Tormentor, I 
 fnould imagine that a man, with 
 much lefs mercury in his com- 
 pofition than Sir RichardStcele, 
 might have met with more than 
 one or two pafiages in it that 
 would raife a laugh. Terence 
 indeed does not, like the player- 
 clowns mentioned by Shake- 
 fpeare's Hamlet, " let on the 
 " fpedtators to laugh, though 
 " in the mean time Tome necef- 
 " f;n-y fjueftion of the play be to 
 " be confidered." He never 
 Harts from the fubjeft, merely 
 to indulge himfelf in pleafant- 
 ries, like PLiutus and'evenMo- 
 liere, for whole fcenes toge- 
 ther. His humour always ariles 
 from the occafion, and flows 
 from him in the natural courfe 
 of the fable ; in which he not 
 only docs not admit idle fcenes, 
 but fcarce a fpeech that is not 
 immediately conducive to the 
 bufir.efs cf the drama. His hu- 
 mour, therefore, muft neccffari- 
 ly He clofe and compafi, and re- 
 quires the conflant attention of 
 tht: reader to the incidents that 
 ce it; on which drama- 
 rick humour often in great mea- 
 :urc tU-prnds, and would there- 
 fore of courfe unfold itfelf in 
 the reprcfentation, when thofa 
 incidents were thrown into ac- 
 t'.un. In the prefent qomedy, 
 
 the character of Syrus, bating 
 the defcription in the fecond 
 a&, muft be allowed to be 
 wholly comick ; and that of 
 Chremes {till more fo. The 
 conduct of the third and fourth 
 acts is happily contrived for the 
 production of mirth, and the 
 fituatipn of the two old men in 
 the firft fcene of the fifth aft is 
 very pleafantly imagined. The 
 deep diftrefs of Menedemus, 
 with which the play opens, 
 makes but a very inconfiderable 
 part of Terence's comedy ; and 
 I am apt to think, as I have be- 
 fore hinted in another place, 
 that the Self-Tormentor of Me- 
 nander was a more capital and 
 interefting character. As our 
 poet has contrived, the felf- 
 punifhmerjt of Menedemus end* 
 as fcxm as -the play beginf. 
 The fon returns in the very fe- 
 cond fcene; and the chiefcaufe 
 of the grief of MeneJemus be- 
 ing removed, other incident?, 
 >:io(t comick 
 
 cult too, are. worked into the 
 play ; which, in relation to 
 the' fuhjcct of it, might per- 
 haps, with more propriety, 
 have been entitled, The Fa- 
 : than The Self- Tormen- 
 
 tor. I canno: therefore, not- 
 and 
 
 fimplL-ity of the firit fcene, 
 agree, " tl.at this comedy 
 .he gravity of tragedy 
 " itfelf." 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
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