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<,
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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